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FRONTISPIECE—PORTRAIT OF LINNAUS.

THE VERTEBRATES OF THE ADIRONDACK REGION, NORTHEASTERN
NEW YORK. (General Introduction—Mammalia: carnivora.)

BY CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

IS NOT THE FISH CROW (Corvus ossifragus Wilson) A WINTER AS WELL AS
A SUMMER RESIDENT AT THE NORTHERN LIMIT OF ITS RANGE?

BY WILLIAM DUTCHER.

A REVIEW OF THE SUMMER BIRDS OF A PART OF THE CATSKILL
MOUNTAINS WITH PREFATORY REMARKS ON THE FAUNAL AND
FLORAL FEATURES OF THE REGION.

BY EUGENE PINTARD BICKNELL.

—_--

Published by the Society, December, 1882.

NEW YORK:
PRESS OF L. S. FOSTER, 35 PINE STREET.

MDCCCLX XXII.

Copies of this volume can be obtained of the Corresponding Secretary
of the Society.
Price, Paper cover, . . $2.00
“Cloth binding, ; .- 2a gees

Purchasers in Great Britain and on the Continent of Europe may be sup-
plied through W. WESLEY, 28 Essex Street, Strand, London.

THE LINNASAN SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

was founded March 7, 1878, by the following-named gentlemen :—

HH: B. Bailey, Franklin Benner, Eugene P. Bicknell,
John Burroughs, Harold Herrick, Dr. Frederick H. Hoadley,
Ernest Ingersoll, Newbold T. Lawrence, C. Hart Merriam,

William C. Osborn.

The original Officers were :

C. HART MERRIAM, , President.
HAROLD HERRICK, . ; ; : . Vice-President.
ERNEST INGERSOLL, , ; ; Secretary.
Ene BAILEY, 9 -: ; : Corres. Secy and Treasurer.

Abstracts of the proceedings of the Society, and papers read before it,
have appeared in different scientific serials, but much valuable matter
has been withheld from lack of a direct medium of publication. The
necessity for such an organ has now become manifest, and the present

volume is designed to be the first of a series in which papers coming before

the Society may be permanently preserved.

The Frontispiece accompanying this number is after an old engraving in the possession of
Mr. L. S. Foster, by whom it is contributed.

OPFICERS OF THE SOCIF TY:

1882--83.

President :
EUGENE P. BICKNELL.

Vice-President :

I? Bb. BAIBEY.

Recording Secretary :

LS POs:

Corresponding Secretary and Treasurer :
NEWBOLD T. LAWRENCE,
4 Pine St., New York City.

Committee on Publication :
EUGENE P. BICKNELL,
C. HART MERRIAM, M. D.,
NEWBOLD T. LAWRENCE.

THE VERTEBRATES OF THE ADIRONDACK REGION,
NORTHEASTERN NEW YORK.

BY

CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

{FIRST INSTALMENT.]

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CHAPTER I.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

1. LOCATION AND BOUNDARIES.

2. GEOLOGICAL HISTORY.

Geology ; Soil.

3. TOPOGRAPHY.

Character of Mountains; Altitudes; Black River side ; Champlain side; Natural Avenue from
New York to the St. Lawrence, below Montreal; Characteristic Birds of the mountains

and valley about Lake George.

4. CLIMATE.

Snow ; Temperature ; Relation between Temperature and Altitude ; Sudden Changes of Tem-

perature ; Rain-fall; Humidity, and its Influence upon Vegetation.

5. GENERAL FEATURES.

Marsh Plants upon High Mountains; Peculiarities of Valleys; of Mountains; Windfalls ;

vastating Fires; A Walk through the Forest ; Winter; Autumn; Mixed Flocks.

6. BOTANY.

Forest Trees ; Undershrubs ; Smaller Flowering Plants and Herbs; Mosses ; Lichens.

7. FAUNAL POSITION.

As Illustrated by the Mammals; Birds ; Lepidoptera, and Plants.

De-

CON Ts i eS

( Continued.)

CHAPTER It.

MAMMALIA.

CHAPTER IIL.

AW BS:

CHAPTER IV-

REP eres

CHAPTER V.

BAT RAGHLE.

CHAPTER VI.

PRSC Eo:

CeAPTER, -

GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

4—LOCATION AND BOUNDARIES.

N general terms the Adirondack Wilderness may be said to em-
brace that portion of New York State lying to the north of
the Mohawk Valley, and included between Lake Champlain on the
east and the valley of the Black River on the west. These limits,
-however, include much territory not properly belonging to the
region under consideration, for its boundaries are more or less
irregular, and in many places fall short of the limits above defined.
The Adirondacks proper, or the area to which the subject-matter of
this paper is restricted, can be stated, with sufficient exactness, to
lie between parallels 43° 15’ and 44° 45’ north latitude, hence meas-
uring about an hundred and twenty miles (193,121 metres) in a north
and south direction.

The transverse diameter of the region is approximately of equal
extent, A large area on its western border is well known by the
name of ‘“ Brown’s Tract,’ and the whole territory is frequently
spoken of as the ‘‘ North Woods.” It covers more or less exten-
sive portions of twelve counties, namely : St. Lawrence, Franklin,
Clinton, Lewis, Herkimer, Hamilton, Essex, Warren, Oneida, Ful-
ton, Saratoga, and Washington.

a--GEOQLOGICAL HISTORY.

From a geological stand-point, the Adirondacks are interesting as
constituting one of the few islands that rose above the level of
2 9

10 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

the mighty Continental sea, previous to Paleozoic time. Its stern
Archzean shores were washed by the waves of countless ages before
the undermost strata of the Lower Silurian were deposited upon
them, entombing and preserving many of the Trilobites, Brachio-
pods, and other curious inhabitants of that vast ocean. This Lower
Silurian zone marked the shore line, so to speak, of the ancient
island, and consists of Potsdam sandstone and the lime rocks of
the Trenton period. Though broken and interrupted, enough of
it still remains to afford us tantalizing glimpses of the life of the
time, torn pages of fragmentary chapters that constitute but a half-
told story to excite our imagination and regret.

The old Archzan centre, which we call the Adirondacks, is made
up mainly of gneiss, and includes areas of syenite, hypersthenite,
granite, iron ore, and other metamorphic rocks. The soil, therefore,
except that resulting from decomposed vegetation, is largely sili-

cious sand.

ao. LOPOGERAPE.

The topography of the region is diversified, and in some respects
peculiar. The mountains and short ranges of high hills have no
regular trend, and conform to no definite axis. They are in no
sense a chain of mountains, and have no backbone at all; but, on
the contrary, consist of more or less irregular groups, isolated
peaks, short ranges, and “ hog-backs,” scattered over the entire
area—the highest to the eastward. They slope in all possible direc-
tions, according to the position and courses of the valleys and river
beds adjacent. Like the grand old Lawrentian Hills of Canada,
and other Archean mountains, they are bold and rugged, with
well-defined and often much broken outlines. Nearly thirty peaks
exceed four thousand feet (1,219.20 metres) in height, several are
about five thousand (1,524 metres), and one, Mt. Marcy, attains an

TOPOGRAPHY. II

altitude of five thousand three hundred and forty-four feet (1,628.-
Sou metres).”

The entire region is studded with hundreds of beautiful lakes of va-
rious sizes and depths, and two of them are upwards of four thousand
feet above tide level. The altitude of the western border of this area
is nowhere less than one thousand feet (304.80 metres), and in most
places is considerably more than this. From the valley of the Black
River the slope is gradual, and the flattened summits of the first
range of foot-hills form a terrace of great extent. The dense forests
that formerly covered this terrace have mostly been destroyed, and
it is now a sandy, barren region, overrun with blackberries and
other rank undergrowth. Beyond, to the eastward, lie the ranges
of low hills and irregularly distributed mountains, with their many
lakes and rivers, that indicate the confines of the Adirondacks.

On the eastward the case is very different. Lake Champlain is not
an hundred feet + (30.48 metres) above tide-level, and Lake George is
but three hundred and forty-three feet (104.546 metres). From the
head (south end) of Lake George to Glen’s Falls, a distance of but
nine miles (14,484 metres), there is a fall of sixty-one feet (18.69
metres). Glen’s Falls, it will be remembered, is directly on the
Hudson, just east of Luzerne. Hence it is clear that one can travel
from New York city to Montreal on the St. Lawrence River, and
by a very direct road, too, without passing over any elevation greater
than the shore of Lake George. The route would be: up the Hud-
son to Glen’s Falls, thence overland nine miles to Fort William
Henry on Lake George, or down the valley to Whitehall, and
thence, skirting the Adirondacks, down Lake Champlain and its
outlet, the river Richelieu, to Sorel on the St. Lawrence, at the
head of Lake St. Peter—about forty miles below Montreal. This

is, indeed, the exact pathway traversed, but littlke more than two

* Report of Adirondack Survey, Verplanck Colvin, Superintendent, 1880.

| Exactly 99 feet.

12 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

centuries ago, by the fierce war parties of the merciless Iroquois, as
they journeyed with a fleet of birch-bark canoes, from their wig-
wams on the Mohawk, to harass and imperil the three exposed col-
onies of New France—Montreal, Three Rivers, and Quebec—
already crippled and disheartened by early struggles with the Hu-
rons and Algonquins. It is well to bear these facts in mind, lest,
by forgetting that modern civilization has overcome so many bar-
_ riers and established so many channels of communication between
different regions, we lose sight of the great natural avenues that
were known so well to the aborigines, and to our forefathers. This
narrow valley, penetrating the primeval forests of the north, and
walled in by the Adirondacks on the west, and the Green Mountains
of Vermont on the east, exerts a powerful influence over the life of
adjoining lands, carrying southern forms into the heart of a great
northern wilderness. Along the opposite border of the Adiron-
dacks we have seen that the mountains and foot-hills slope gradually
to the westward till they disappear in the valley of the Black River.
Here, on the contrary, lofty rugged mountains rise. some from
the very water’s edge, and many of the highest peaks of the entire
region lie within a few miles from the shores of Lakes George and
Champlain. Among these mountains breed such northern birds as
the Hermit and Olive-backed Thrushes, the Red-bellied Nuthatch,
the Winter Wren, the Yellow-rumped, Blackburnian, Black and
Yellow, Mourning, and Canada Fly-catching Warblers, both Cross-
bills, the White-throated Sparrow, the Raven, the Canada Jay, both
Three toed Woodpeckers, and the Spruce Grouse; while in the
valley below may be found the Wood Thrush, Brown Thrasher,
House Wren, Large-billed Water Thrush, Field Sparrow, Chewink,
Mourning Dove and other species supposed to pertain to. the Alle-
ghanian Fauna, through much more characteristic of the Carolinian.
Nowhere, except in the Catskills, do representatives from the Cana-
dian and Carolinian Faunz so nearly meet as upon the mountain

sides bordering the southwestern part of Lake George.

CLIMATE. 13

4,-CLIMATE.

The climate of the Adirondack Wilderness varies greatly with the
season. Snow covers the ground from some time in November till
the middle or latter part of April, and in mid-winter averages over
four feet in depth on the level. During this period the mercury
often falls below —25° Fahr. (—32° C.), and more than once it
has been frozen (—40° F. and C.) In summer the days are warm
and the nights cool. Owing to the altitude of the region its mean
annual temperature falls considerably below that of the surrounding
country. Guyot says: ‘“ On an average an increase of three hundred
and thirty féet of altitude diminishes the temperature one degree
Fahrenheit; hence the rate of diminution is about three degrees to
every thousand feet.” Therefore the temperature at the summit of
Mt. Marcy should average sixteen degrees Fahrenheit below that of
tide-level in the same latitude. Mr. Verplanck Colvin found, from
observations made at three sets of localities, in 1876, that the mean
decrease in temperature per each thousand feet increase in altitude,
in this region was 2.93° Fahr. in August, 4.11° F. in September, and
4.52° F. in November.* On this basis the mean temperature of that
portion of the Adirondacks having an altitude of four thousand feet
(1,219.20 metres) would average below that of New York city during
ie same tune, 11-72, Fin August, 16.44° F. in| September, and
18.08° F. in November, if in the same latitude.

There are probably few places on this continent that are subject to
greater or more sudden changes of temperature than this area. Vart-
ations of forty, fifty, and sixty degrees Fahrenheit, during the twenty-
four hours, are by no means uncommon; and | have seen the mercury
fall over seventy degrees Fahrenheit in fifteen hours in winter. My
journal records arise of 42° in six hours, of 32° in five hours, and of
12° in one hour; a fall of 38° in thirteen hours, and one of 20° in four

hours. These great and rapid changes usually occur in winter—dur-

* Report of Adirondack Survey, Verplanck Colvin, Superintendent, 1880, pp. 324-6.

14 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

ing January, February, and March. Notwithstanding these facts,
diseases of the lungs are rare among the inhabitants, and even the
severe winters have proved of benefit to those consumptives that have
remained here throughout the entire year.

The mean annual rain-fall exceeds that of most portions of the
State, and is estimated by Mr. Colvin, from the available data, to be
45.18 inches (1,149 mm.) for the entire region. The mean annual rain-

fall over the whole State is 41.94 inches (1,063 mm.).*
There are two elements that tend to increase the humidity of this
region: Ist, its mountainous character, for mountains always act as
condensers of moisture; and 2d, its heavy covering of forests, for
dense vegetation protects the underlying soil and rock from the direct
action of the sun, and keeps the temperature lower—thus favoring
condensation and the precipitation of excess moisture.

“A deciduous tree, during the season when in foliage, is constantly
drawing from the earth and giving off from its leaves a considerable
amount of moisture, and in some cases this amount is very great.
This change of state, from a fluid to a gaseous condition, is a cooling
process, and the air near the surface, being screened from the sun and
from the winds, becomes by this means so humid, that a rank suc-
culent vegetation often springs up and thrives, which in an open field
would wither and perish in an hour.’

Now it is well known that there is, in nature, no such thing as a
perfectly dry atmosphere, for at all times, and in all places, it is laden
with less or more aqueous vapor in a state of suspension. The higher
the temperature the greater the capacity for carrying moisture, and
consequently the more moisture required to produce saturation—by
which term we understand the maximum quantity of watery vapor
that a definite amount of atmospheric air can contain at any given de-
gree of temperature. No evaporation whatever can take place from any

surface in a saturated atmosphere, and any cooling of such an atmos-

* Meteorology of New York State, Second Series, F. B. Hough, 1872, p. ix.
+ Hough’s Report on Forestry, 1878, p. 289.

GENERAL FEATURES. ]

wn

phere produces instant precipitation of the excess of moisture above
the degree to which the temperature has been lowered. Therefore,
the temperature and dew point being low in this great wilderness, and
a large amount of moisture being given off, both from the dense
forests themselves, and from the multitude of lakes and swamps scat-
tered over its surface, the atmosphere is often saturated, and showers
during the summer season are of frequent occurrence. The conforma-
tion of the country, too, favors precipitation within its own borders,

for a wind, from whatsoever direction blowing,

could not easily
convey the lower vapor-laden atmosphere away without coming
in contact with some cool area or mountain side that would so lower
its temperature as to cause instant precipitation. Clouds carried over
the Adirondacks from a distance would, when sufficiently low, share
the same fate, and disappear in showers over the foot-hills.

And such is, in fact, the case; for a long residence overlooking a
considerable portion of the western slope of the region has enabled
me to observe repeatedly, not only occasional showers, but sometimes
even whole days of more or less continuous rain there, when not a
drop, or at most a slight shower, fell at the point of observation, only
twelve or fifteen miles distant.

ob GENERAL FEATURES.

We have found, then, that the atmospheric and general climatic
conditions, over this area, favor the production of a luxuriance of
vegetation; and, on the other hand, the conformation of the land and
the density of the forests and undergrowth tend to lower the temper-
ature and increase the humidity—interacting causes whose effect
upon floree and faunz has hardly received the attention it deserves.

The deep beds of moss upon the mountain tops consist chiefly of
species of Sphagnum and the “Shining Feather Moss” (//ypzame
splendens), over which runs, in various places, the pretty Creeping
Snow-berry (Chzogenes hispidula) and the lovely twin bell-flowers
of Lznnea borealis. Other still more characteristic marsh plants grow

16 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

upon these elevated summits, for, in the language of our State Bota-
nist, Mr. Charles H. Peck, “the frequent rains, the investing clouds,
and the low temperature which retards evaporation, all conspire to
produce that prevalence of moisture which imitates the condition of
the marshes.”* On the open summit of Mt. Marcy (altitude 5,344
feet, or 1,628 metres) Mr. Peck found Cassandra calyculata, Ledum
latifolium, Kalmia glauca, Habenaria dilatata, Veratrum viride, Ca-
rex trvigua, and Calamagrostis Canadensis—all swamp plants. There
are no trees here to protect them from the sun, for they grow upon
the open summit ‘above timber line’ —which is about 4,800—4,900 feet
(1,463.04—1,493.52 metres) above tide-level.

Many of the valleys are occupied by extensive balsam and tama-
rack swamps, which are always carpeted with dense mats of wet
Sphagnum, into which one sinks half a foot or more and yet rarely
leaves a trail—so perfectly does the spongy mass resume its former
shape. These places are the homes of the Spruce Grouse or Canada
Partridge, the Blue Yellow-backed Warbler that builds its pensile
nest of the gray tamarack lichen (Usvea), the Canada Fly-catching
Warbler, and several other species.

Most of the mountains are covered with a tolerably dense growth
of coniferous trees, but there are quite a number whose summits have
been laid bare by tornadoes. These devastating winds every now
and then uncover a mountain so effectually that not only the trees and
undershrubs, but even the soil itself, and all life upon it, are hurled
together into the valley below

forming vast and lasting “ windfalls ” -
to bar the path of inquisitive man.

Fire, also, too frequently overruns and lays waste tracts of large
extent, that, for years afterwards, constitute marked features in the
make-up of the country, and exert a decided influence upon the
minor local distribution of life over its surface. The charred stubs

of the larger trees long remain as favorite haunts for several species

* Report of Adirondack Survey, Albany, 1880, pp. 405-6.

GENERAL FEATURES, 17

of Woodpeckers, while the dense growth of blackberry and rasp-
berry bushes, dotted over with the large showy flowers of the Willow
Herb (Lpclobtum angustifolium), is well known to the ornithologist
as the summer home of the Mourning Warbler.

Here is a sparkling trout stream, perhaps the outlet of a mountain
lake ; let us follow its winding course through yonder thicket of
alders. Working our way through the tangled bushes we soon
emerge into the open grassy bottom of one of the most beauti-
ful and interesting of nature’s many adornments—a Beaver meadow.
Here, less than a century ago, might have been heard the splash and
seen the hut of the sagacious Beaver. But, like the Moose that once
roamed these mighty forests, they have, excepting a few isolated
individuals, been exterminated or driven beyond our borders, till
now these green meadows, with occasionally the buried ruin of an
ancient dam, are about all that remain to remind us of the former
existence here of one of the most curious, interesting, and typical of
North American mammals.

The dam has long since disappeared, and as it gave way the pond
again became a narrow stream, spreading its way through the broad
muddy bottom, now verdant with marsh grasses that spring from a
thick bed of elastic Sshagnum. Upon this moist level now stand
scattered clumps of feathery tamaracks; and here and there over
the uniform light green of the meadow rise, in marked contrast, the
odd-looking Blue Gentians and the bright scarlet Cardinal Flowers.
These are favorite haunts of the Canada Jay and, in the autumn, of
immense flocks of Robins that come to feed upon the handsome ber-
ries of the mountain ash trees that always skirt the open places,
easing the stiff edge of the bordering forest. Here, too, may
be heard the quick snap of the Wood Pewee, as he gobbles
up some passing insect, and the characteristic note of his congener,
the Olive-sided Flycatcher, who is perched upon the topmost
branch of yonder hemlock. Should you possess the keen eye and
stealthy tread of the experienced hunter, you may surprise a red

rs GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

deer quietly feeding in supposed security, and may rest assured that
a nice bit of fresh venison steak will in no way interfere with your
investigations.

Crossing from the Beaver meadow to the nearest lake, we find its
shores steep and rocky, with a dense border of dark cedars overhanging
the water—which is of considerable depth, even close to the shore.
A little farther along, the steep rocks are replaced by a more sloping
bank, covered with stones of various sizes, and spruce and hem-
~ locks, mingled, perhaps, with a few birches and maples, are substitu-
ted for the cedars just passed. Beyond still is a beach of clean white
sand, strewn with smooth quartz pebbles, and backed with a grove
of tall pines, beneath whose lofty summits a cluster of paper birch
saplings casts flitting shadows over the blue huckleberries below.
Continuing the circuit, we next come to a marshy bay lined with
sedges and covered with lily-pads—a feeding ground, at night, for the
much persecuted deer. Finally we reach the outlet, with its dense
thicket of alders, and are startled by the splash of a diving Musk-
rat, or the sudden flight of a Wood Duck or Heron. _ In the alders
and undershrubs bordering the stream we notice a few Song Spar-
rows, Rusty Blackbirds, and a solitary Maryland Yellow-throat.
Turning from the lake into the adjoining forest, the dark form and
yellow crown of a Three-toed Woodpecker arrest our eye, and
rounding a rocky knoll we get a glimpse of his princely cousin, the
Cock-of-the-Woods. From various quarters may be heard the clear
mellow whistle of the Peabody Bird, and the less frequent but sadder
note of the Wood Pewee. Winding slowly up the shady ravine that
leads to the pass between the mountains that separate us from the
valley beyond, a Hermit Thrush silently glides across our path, and
we notice here a pair of Slate-colored Snow-birds, and the trim form
of a littke Winter Wren as she flits from a moss-covered log to the
branches of a fallen tree-top, pertly tipping her tail in salute. Near-
ing the summit a passing flock of noisy Blue Jays excites the wrath

of a Red Squirrel who, perched on a neighboring limb, manifests his

GENERAL FEATURES. 19

indignation by chippering saucily, keeping time with vehement jerks
of the body and spasmodic flourishes of the tail, which he has by no
means neglected to cock up over his arched back. Crossing the
crest of the divide the coarse croak of a Raven greets our ears; and,
descending into the valley below, the shrill cry of a wary Loon, from
the distant lake, melts away into the evening air, and the silence of
the fast-approaching twilight is unbroken save by the soft flute-like
song of the sombre Thrush.

During winter and early spring the birds one is most apt to find
here are the White-winged and Red Crossbills, the Blue and Canada
Jays, Black-capped and Hudsonian Titmice, Nuthatches, Ravens,
several species of Woodpeckers, the Ruffed and Spruce Grouse, and
once in a while an Owl. Sometimes the Pine Grosbeak is common,
in flocks; and occasionally, during February, March, and April, the
Wilderness literally swarms with Pine Linnets which then breed here
in thousands and may hardly be seen again for several years.

In autumn, during the fall migrations, the most marked feature in
the bird line consists in what I have for many years designated the
“ mixed flocks.” At this season one may hunt for hours and _scarce-
ly see a bird, when, suddenly, he finds himself surrounded by a host
of individuals, representing many species and pertaining to widely
different families. To illustrate, I quote from my journal under date
of October, 1879—a lowery day—the locality being Big Moose Lake
in the heart of the Wilderness. ‘“ During the afternoon one of those
mixed flocks of birds, so characteristic of the Adirondacks at this sea-
son, passed slowly by our camp and I stepped out, in the rain, and
watched them till all were gone. There were at least fifty Robins
and they loaded down a mountain ash, feeding upon its berries and
making a most unnecessary amount of noise—very unlike their con-
duct at home, where, when similarly engaged in our garden, they are
noted for their silence. In the trees overhead were several Blue Jays,
and in the undergrowth and amongst the fallen timber were large

numbers of Slate-colored Snow-birds, a few White-throated, Song,

20 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

and Fox-colored Sparrows, a couple of Winter Wrens, and one

Nashville Warbler—which I shot. A dozen Chickadees, with an
equal number of Yellow-birds and a few Golden-crowned Kinglets,
could be seen among the branches of a low spruce near by, while
several Red-bellied Nuthatches and a pair of Brown Creepers amused
themselves with winding up and down its trunk. Leaving out the
Fox Sparrows and the Nashville Warbler, this flock stands as a very
fair example of these incongruous assemblages, several of which one
falls in with every day at this time of year. It seems strange that
the desire for company, always marked during the migrations, should
induce such unlike species to collect and wander together over this
wilderness. It must be that they have faith in the old adage that
‘there is strength in numbers!’ I have seen the Purple Finch in
some of these mixed flocks; anda few Hairy and Downy Wood-
peckers and Hermit Thrushes sometimes hang about their outskirts,
but the latter are more commonly seen by themselves in groups of

half a dozen or thereabouts.”

6 BOTANY

While the grand scenic effect of any region, the effect that is de-
pendent on the general contour and make up of the country and its
gross reliefs, is governed by its geology and topography; so is the
general aspect, or Ahystognomy, of a region dependent upon the char-
acter of the vegetation in which it is clothed. As, in the tropics, the
stately Palms, the colossal arborescent Ferns, the solemn Aloes, and
the light and feathery Mimosas contribute such striking features to
the physiographical areas to which they severally pertain; so do the
deciduous hardwood groves of the temperate zone, and the dark co-
niferous forests of the north give to these regions their peculiar and
characteristic appearance.

The distinctive physiognomic aspect of the Adirondack Wilderness,
the dark and sombre evergreen forests, is chiefly the consequence of
the large development of a single genus of coniferous trees; for the

BOTANY. 21

predominating forms are not only coniferous evergreens, but consist

mainly of Spruce, Hemlock, and Balsam—all representatives of the
genus Adzes. Tall Pines, at intervals, rear their lofty summits above
the level of surrounding tree-tops, fragrant Cedars overhang the lake-
shores and swamps, delicate Tamaracks wave over the soft grassy
bottoms of Beaver meadows, dense thickets of tangled Alders border
many of the streams and rivers, hardy Birches and light Poplars are
scattered sparingly upon the mountain-sides and in the valleys, and
areas of hard timber, indicating second growth, mark tracts that have
been bared by fire, wind, or the woodman’s axe. These hardwood
areas are readily distinguished, at a distance, by the marked contrast
afforded by the light color and different aspect of the foliage, in sum-
mer, and by their nakedness in winter. They are composed, chiefly,
of Maple, Beech, and Birch.

The common forest trees of the Adirondacks are: the American
Linden or Bass Wood (77/¢?a Americana), Sugar Maple (Acer sac-
charinum), Black Sugar Maple (A. saccharinum nigrum), Red or
Swamp Maple (A. rubrum), Black Cherry (Prunus serotina), Beech,
(Fagus ferruginea), Iron Wood (Ostrya Virginica), Cherry Birch
(Betula lenta), Yellow Birch (£. lutea), Paper or Canoe Birch (2. pa-
pyracea), American Aspen (Populus tremuloides), Large-toothed As-
pen (P. grandidentata), White Pine (Pinus strobus), Red or ‘“ Nor-
way” Pine (P. ves¢nosa—common only in certain localities, not gen-
erally distributed), Black Spruce (Aédzes nigra), White Spruce (A.
alba), Hemlock (A. Canadensis), Balsam Fir (A. balsamea), Tamarack
or Larch (Larix Americana), White Cedar or Arbor Vite ( 7haa
occidental?s). Besides these occur the following, which are rare, or
are common only along the borders of the region: Locust (/odzxza
pseudacacia), White Ash (fraxinus Americana), Black Ash (/. sam-
buctfolia), Elm (Ulmus Americana), Slippery Elm (U. fulva), Butter-
nut (Fuglans cinerea), Swamp Hickory (Carya amara), three or more
Oaks (Quercus), Balsam Poplar or Tacamahac (/0pzlus balsamifera),
Pitch Pine (/%x2s rigida), and Juniper (Huneperus Virgintana).

22 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

The more common undershrubs (some of them growing to be
small trees) are : Acer Pennsylvanicum, A. spicatum, Prunus pumila,
P. Fennsylvanica, P. Virginiana, Spirea salicifolia, S. tomentosa,
Rubus odoratus, R. triflorus, R. strigosus, R. occidentalis, R. villosus,
R. Canadensis, Rosa Carolina, Crategus coccinea, C. tomentosa, C.
crus-galli, Pyrus sambuctfolia, Amelanchicr Canadensis, A. Canaden-
sts botryapium, A. Canadensts oblongifolia, Ribes lacustre, R. rubrum,
Flamamelis Virginica, Cornus circinata, C. stolonifera, C. paniculata,
C. alternifolia, Lonicera ciliata, Diervilla trifda, Sambucus pubens,
S. Canadensis, Viburnum lentago, V. acerifolium, V. opulus, V. lan-
tanotdes, Cephalanthus occidentalis, Gaylussacia resinosa, Vaccinium
Pennsylvanicum, V. corymbosum, Arctostaphylos uva-urst, Cassandra
calyculata, Andromeda polifolia, Kalmia angustifolia, K. glauca, Aza-
lia nudtflora, Rhodora Canadensis, Ledum latifolium, Apocynum
androsemifolium, [lex levigata, Corylus rostrata, Carpinus Amert-
cana, Myrica gale, Alnus viridis, A. incana, Salix (several species),

and Zaxus baccata Canadensis.

Of the smaller flowering plants the following are among the most
noticeable: Clematis Virginiana, Anemone Penusylvanica, A. nemorosa,
Flepatica triloba, Thalictrum dioicum, Ranunculus flammula reptans,
R. abortivus, Rk. recurvatus, Caltha palustris, Coptis trifolia, Aquilegia
Canadensis, Actea spicata rubra, A. alba, Caulophyllum thalictrordes,
Nymphea odorata, Nuphar advena, Sarracenia purpurea, Sanguinaria
Canadensis, Dicentra cucullaria, D. Canadensis, Dentaria diphylla,
D. laciniata, Arabis lyrata, Viola rotundifolia, V. blanda, V. Sel-
kerki, V. cucullata, V. canina sylvestris, V. rostrata, V. Canadensis,
V. pubescens, Drosera rotundifolia, D. longifolia, Helianthemum Cana-
dense, Hypericum pyramidatum, 1. ellipticum, H1. perforatum, Elodes
Virginica, Silene inflata, Arenaria Grenlandica, A. lateriflora, Clay-
tonia Caroliniana, Geranium Robertianum, Lnpatiens pallida, Oxalis
acetosella, Ampelopsis quinguefolia, Celastrus scandens, Polygala pauct-

folia, Poterium Canadense, Geum macrophyllum, Waldsteinia fraga-
vtotdes, Potentilla Norvegica, P. Canadensis, P. tridentata, P. palustris,

BOTANY, 23

Fragarta vesca, Dalibarda repens, Saxifraga Pennsylvanica, Mitella
diphylla, M. nuda, Tiarella cordifolia, Circea alpina, Epilobium
angustifolium, E. palustre lineare, EF. coloratum, Cnothera biennis,
i. pumila, Fleraclium lanatum, Archangelica atropurpurea, Os-
morrhiza longistylis, O. brevistylis, Aralia racemosa, A. nudicaulis,
A. trifolia, Cornus Canadensis, Linnea borealis, Triosteum perfolia-
tum, Galium trifdum pusillum, Mitchella repens, FHloustonia cerulea,
Eupatorium purpureum, £. perfoliatum, E. ageratoides, Tussilago
Jarfara, Solidago thyrsotdea, Bidens cernua, Achillea millefolium,
Tanacetum vulgare, Antennaria margaritacea, Senecio aureus, Lo-
belia cardinalis, L. syphylitica, L. inflata, L. Kalmit, Campanula
rotundifolia, Vaccinium macrocarpon, V. cespitosum, Chiogenes hispi-
dula, Epigea repens, Gaultheria procumbens, Pyrola rotundifolia, P.
chlorantha, P. secunda, Chimaphila umbellata, Meonotropa uniflora,
Lrientalis Americana, Lysimachia ciliata, L. thyrsiflora, Utricularia
cornuta, Epiphegus Virginiana, Verbascum Thapsus, Scrophularia no-
dosa, Chelone glabra, Mimulus ringens, Rhinanthus crista-galli, Pedt-
cularts Canadensis, Monarda didyma, Scutellaria galericulata, S.
lateriflora, Symphytume officinale, Cynoglossum officinale, C. Morrisont,
flydrophyllum Virginicum, Hf. Canadense, Diapensia Lapponica,
Gentiana (several species), Asarum Canadense, Laportea Canadensis,
Comandra umbellata, Arisema triphyllum, Calla palustris, Acorus
calamus, Scheuchzeria palustrts, Saggitaria calyctna, Orchis specta-
btlis, Habenaria tridentata, Hf. viridis bracteata, H. h yperborea, FH.
dilitata, H. Hooker’, H. orbiculata, 1. blephariglottis, H. lacera, H.
psycodes, Ff. fimbriata, Goodyera repens, Spiranthes latifolia, S. cernua,
S. gracilis, Listera cordata, Pogonia ophtioglossoides, Calopogon pul-
chellus, Calypso borealis, Microstylis monophyllos, Cypripedium parvi-
florum, C. pubescens, C. spectabile, C. acaule, Trillium grandiflorum,
LZ. evectum, T. erythrocarpum, Medeola Virginica, Veratrum viride,
Uvularia grandiflora, U. sessifolia, Streptopus roseus, Clintonia bore-
alts, Smilacena racemosa, S. stellata, S. trifolia, S. bifolia, Polygonatum

24 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

biflorum, Erythrontum Americanum, Allium tricoccum, Pontederia
cordata, and Eriocaulon septangulare.

Among the Mosses the genera Sphagnum, Dicranum, Orthotri-
chum, and /Lypnum are particularly well represented, both in species
and individuals; but such a vast number of mosses are found here
that an enumeration of even the more common or characteristic would
be out of place.

The so-called “ Iceland Moss” (Cetraria /slandica) and “ Reindeer
Moss” (Cladonia rangiferina), together with the common gray
Usnea, are worthy of special mention from out the host of Lichens
that thrive upon the moist atmosphere of the Wilderness.

1.-FAUNALE-POsSlLTMIGN:

There remains to be considered the Faunal Position of the Adi-
rondacks.

Data are wanting for the determination of exact thermometric
means over any considerable portion of the region, but sufficient
exist to establish the fact that during the months of May, June, and
July (the breeding season of birds) the thermometer shows an aver-
age of 57° Fahr. (14° C.), or lower, everywhere within the limits of
the Wilderness, and averages below 50° Fahr. (10° C.) throughout
much of the interior. The temperature alone, therefore, would indi-
cate that the district pertained to the Canadian Fauna, and a brief study
of its characteristic animal and plant life will suffice to confirm the
fact.

Amongst the Mammals the following species are eminently north-
ern in habitat : the Lynx, Fisher, Marten, Hudsonian Flying Squirrel,
Jumping Mouse, Long-eared Wood Mouse, Porcupine, and Northern
Hare.

Of the Birds that breed here many are characteristic of the Cana-
dian Fauna. Such are: the Hermit Thrush, Swainson’s Thrush, Red-
bellied Nuthatch, Winter Wren; Tennessee, Yellow-rumped, Black-
burnian, Black and Yellow, Mourning, and Canada Flycatching

FAUNAL POSITION. 25

Warblers; White-winged and Red Crossbills, White-throated Sparrow,
Junco, Rusty Blackbird, Raven, Canada Jay, Olive-sided Flycatcher,
Black-backed and Banded-backed Three-toed Woodpeckers, Spruce
Grouse, Goshawk, and Golden-eyed Duck. In addition to the above
it i$ not improbable that the Hudsonian Tit and one (or both) of the
Kinglets will be found nesting here.

Mention of the characteristic Reptiles, Batrachians, and Fishes is

deferred, and will be made in the chapters pertaining to these groups.

Following is a list of ‘ Subarctic”’ species of Lepidoptera collected
in the immediate vicinity of Beaver Lake (also called ‘*‘ Fenton's,” and
‘ Number 4”) in Lewis County, by Mr. Hill, and identified by Prof.
J. A. Lintner, late State Entomologist: Agrotis Chardinyt, A. con-
flua, A. astricta, Plusia bimacalata, P. u-aureum, Thamnonoma brun-
neata, Melanippe hastata, M. fluctuata, Coremia ferrugaria, Cidaria
Packardata, C. albolineata, C. cuntgerata, C. hersiliata, C. truncata,
Spargamia magnoliata, Oporabia cambricaria, and Larentia cesiata.
These were all found in a single locality, and therefore probably con-
stitute but a small proportion of the northern Lepidoptera that occur
in the Adirondacks.

Floral limitations are by no means so clearly defined as the boun-
daries of Faunal areas, and for the reason that plants are much more
easily than animals affected by minor physiographical conditions.
They are more susceptible to the influences of local topographical] and
climatic conditions, such as altitude, humidity, etc., and are also
affected by the nature of the soil, and by association with one another.
This is seen in the influence which certain kinds of forests exert in
determining the character of the more humble plants that grow in
their shade. For example, it is well known that the destruction of
an evergreen coniferous forest is commonly followed, in the course of
nature, by a growth of hard timber—maple, beech, and birch (all decid-
uous trees) usually predominating. Coincident with this change of
forest is an equally radical change in the kinds of small plants that

spring up underneath.
3

26 GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

Many plants that are quite characteristic of northern latitudes are
found in greater or less abundance in isolated localities, such as high
mountain sides and cool shaded ravines or deep swamps, far south-
ward of their usual homes; and, on the other hand, representatives of
many southern species find their way far northward along suitable
water-courses, and warm valleys, that penetrate regions clothed in
vegetation of a very different type. These seeming peculiarities of
distribution are dependent on definite physiographical conditions
and are not difficult of explanation, however annoying they may be to
those engaged in the determination of distributional areas. Never-
theless there are species that are more or less distinctive of certain
tolerably well-defined areas, and I present the following as a pro-
visional list, fairly characteristic of a CanapIAN FLora: Ranunculus
frammuta reptans, Coptis trifolia, Dicentra Canadensis, Viola rotundz-
folia, V. Canadensis, Arenaria Grentandica, Claytonia Caroliniana, Ge-
vanium Robertianum, Impatiens pallida, Oxalis acetosella, Acer spicatum,
Polygala paucifolia, Poterium Canadense, Geum macrophyllum, Wald-
steinta fragarioides, Potentilla tridentata, Dalabarda repens, Ribes
lacustre, Mitella diphylla, M. nuda, Tiarella cordifolia, Epilobium al-
pinum, E. palustre lineare, Circea alpina, Aralia trifolia, Cornus
Canadensis, Linnea borealis, Aster acuminatus, Solidago thyrsotdea,
S. Virga-aurea alpina, Nabulus nanus, N. Boottit, Campanula
rotundifolia, Vaccineum uliginosum, V. cespitosum, V. Vitis-Idea,
Chiogenes hispidula, Casstope hypnoides (Dr. Parry), Cassandra calycu-
lata, Kalmia glauca, Rhododendron Lapponicum, Rhodora Canadensis,
Ledum latifolium, Pyrola rotundifolia, Chimaphila umbellata, Trien-
talis Americana, Empetrum nigrum, Betula glandulosa, Salix Cutlert,
Pinus strobus, Abies nigra, A. Canadensis, A. balsamea, Thaga ocet-
dentalis, Diapensia Lapponica, Orchis spectabilis, Habenaria hyper-
borea, Hf, dilitata, Goodyera repens, Listera cordata, Microstylis mono-
phyllos, Crpripedium pubescens, C. spectabile, C. acaule, Trillium gran-
diflorum, T. erectum, T. erythrocarpum, Streptopus roseus, Clintonta
borealis, Smilacena trifolia, S. btfolza.

CARA P BER Ll.

MAMMALIA.

In the following pages forty-two species of mammals are enu-
merated as occurring in the Adirondack region, and it is not proba-
ble that future investigation will greatly augment this number. With
the exception of one or two additional Shrews, and two or three
Bats, I know of no others that are likely to be found. The Harbor
Seal and the Fox Squirrel are accidental stragglers, but the remaining
forty are permanent residents. Among them are several of consid-
erable economic value. These are: the Marten, Fisher, Ermine,
Mink, Skunk, Otter, Bear, Deer, Beaver, and Muskrat; and it is not
many years since the Moose could have been reckoned with the
rest, for it was formerly abundant here, and large numbers were
killed for their flesh and hides.

The great majority of our mammals move both by day and night,
few being either strictly nocturnal or exclusively diurnal. The only
species that can fairly be called nocturnal are the Skunk, the Rac-
coon, the Bats, and the Flying Squirrels; and even these are occa-
sionally seen abroad during cloudy days, and do much of their hunt-
ing in the twilight. Of strictly diurnal forms the number is still smaller,
for I know of but two, the Gray Squirrel and the Chipmunk, that
have not been seen after nightfall. The truth of the matter
seems to be that very few mammals range about much during the
brightest part of the day, or darkest part of the night, these being the
times when most of them do the greater part of their sleeping.
It is between the dark and the daylight, before sunrise in the morn-

ing and in the dusk of evening, when the faint light obscures their

bo

7

28 MAMMALIA.

outlines and hides their movements, that the larger number do their
hunting. Many of them are also out during cloudy days and moon-
light nights; and in winter, when the ground is white with snow,
they apparently circumambulate all night long.

The phenomenon of hibernation, which enables many mammals
to endure a climate to the severity of which they would inevitably
succumb were they to remain active throughout the year, and to
_ thrive in regions where they would starve during certain seasons
but for their ability to become dormant when scarcity of food pre-
vails, is well exemplified in a number of our species. The following
are known to pass a greater or less period of the winter season in a
condition of lethargy: the Bear, Raccoon, Bats, Gray Squirrel, Chip--
munk, Woodchuck, and Jumping Mouse. Of these the Woodchuck
- affords the most remarkable example. With astonishing regularity
and precision, and utterly regardless of the state of the weather or
condition of his food supply, he sinks into his burrow about the 2oth
of September, and is rarely seen again before the middle of March.
It frequently, indeed usually, happens that the time chosen for enter-
ing upon the execution of this singular proclivity is during fine warm
weather and at a time when the fields are clothed with a luxuriant
growth of his favorite food, clover. In fact the Woodchuck retires
to the cold dank recesses of his cheerless subterranean abode to
commence a period of voluntary seclusion, to enter upon a state of
complete oblivion and absolute lethargy, at the very time when one
would naturally suppose he would most enjoy himself above ground.

The Gray Squirrel, on the other hand, remains out nearly the entire
winter.and withdraws to its nest, in some hollow tree, only during
the severest weather. The Raccoon and the Bear furnish examples
of animals whose dormant periods are intermediate in duration be-
tween those above cited.

Hibernation is, after all, merely a profound sleep, intensified and
protracted. During ordinary sleep respiration is slackened and

the temperature of the body is lower than when the animal is awake.

FELIS CONCOLOR. 29

The longer the sleep continues the less frequent do the respirations
become and the lower does the temperature fall, till finally the con-
dition of deep and continued sleep—the true lethargy of hiberna-
tion—is attained. This apparent phenomenon, then, is a genuine
physiological process, differing in degree only from ordinary sleep.
It is the result of conditions of environment, and has become an
hereditary habit, enabling certain mammals to exist during a pe-
riod when their usual food supply is cut off. The dormant state is
sometimes brought on by extremes of temperature, but this is not
often the case. ,

Few mammals are commonly seen by those who traverse the
forests of the Adirondacks, and it is a fact that the average sportsman,
during his annual ‘trip to the North Woods,” rarely sees any save
Red Squirrels, Chipmunks, a few Mice, and perhaps a Deer or Por-
cupine. This is in part due to the nature of their haunts, partly be-
cause they do not roam about much in broad daylight, but chiefly
because of their shy dispositions and wary habits. The experienced
hunter, more familiar with their haunts and ways, falls in with a
larger number ; still, by far the greater portion go unobserved. Of
the forty-two kinds found here I have myself seen living, and in the
wild state, all but three; therefore the remarks upon their habits, in
the following biographies, are, when the contrary is not stated, drawn

largely from the results of personal observation.

Order FER. FIssIpEDIA. Family FELIDa«.

FELIS CONCOLOR Linneus.
Cougar; Panther; Mountain Lion (of the West); Puma (of South Am.).

It is not many years since the Cougar or Panther, second largest
of American /e/¢d@, was a common inhabitant of the primeval forests
of the Adirondacks; but, since the State offered a bounty* for their

* The law granting this bounty was passed April 26, 1871. It reads as follows: ‘‘ A State bounty
of thirty dollars for a grown wolf, fifteen dollars for a pup wolf, and twenty dollars for a panther,

20 MAMMALIA.
e)

destruction, so many more have been killed than born that they are
now well nigh exterminated. However, a few still remain, and some
years may yet elapse before the last Panther disappears from the
dense evergreen swamps and high rocky ridges of this Wilderness.

For many of the facts related in the following narrative of the hab-
its of this gigantic “Cat,” I am indebted to the experienced hunter
and guide, Mr. E. L. Sheppard, who has himself killed, or been in-
strumental in killing, twenty-eight Panthers in the Adirondacks.

Cougars are either particularly fond of porcupines, or else are
frequently forced by hunger to make a distasteful meal, for certain it
is that large numbers of these spiny beasts are destroyed by them.
Indeed, it often happens that a Panther is killed whose mouth and lips,
and sometimes other parts also, fairly bristle with the quills of this
formidable rodent. Porcupines are such logy, sluggish creatures, that
in their noctivagations they fall an easy prey to any animal that
cares to meddle with them.

But the Panther feeds chiefly upon venison, which he captures by
“‘still-hunting,” in a way not unlike, save in the manner of killing,
that practised by its greatest enemy—man. Both creep stealthily
upon the intended victim until within range, when the one springs,
the other shoots.

Panthers hunt both by day and by night, but undoubtedly kill the
larger part of their game after nightfall. When one scents a deer he
keeps to the leeward and creeps stealthily toward it, as a cat does

after a mouse. With noiseless tread and crouching form does he

shall be paid to any person or persons who shall kill any of said animals within the boundaries of
this State. The person or persons obtaining said bounty shall prove the death of the animal so
killed by him or them, by producing satisfactory affidavits, and the skull and skin of said animal,
before the supervisor and one of the justices of the peace of the town within the boundaries of
which the said animal was killed, Whereupon said supervisor and justice of the peace, in the pres-
ence of each other, shall burn and destroy the said skull, and brand the said skin so that it may be
thereafter identified,” etc.—thus ruining many valuable specimens. (Laws of 1871, chap. 721,
$39.) When the game laws were repealed, in 1879, this section became a part of the new law, and
it may be found in the Laws of 1879, chap. 534, § 31.

May 5, 1874, a law was passed providing the sum of $500, or somuch thereof as might be neces-
sary for the payment of bounties in pursuance of the requirements of the above law of April 26,
1871, chap. 721, § 39. (See Laws of 1874, chap. 323, $2.) But nearly double this amount has
already been paid on Panthers alone (see p. 39).

FELIS CONCOLOR. 31

pass over fallen trees and ragged ledges, or through dense swamps
and tangled thickets, till, if unobserved, within thirty or forty feet of his
intended victim. If he can now attain a slight elevation and a firm
footing he springs directly upon his prey, but if upon level ground
makes one or two preliminary leaps before striking it. The noise
thus made frightens the deer, who makes a sudden and desperate
effort to escape. But, if lying down, several seconds are necessary
to get under full headway, and the Panther follows so rapidly, in a
series of successive leaps, that it often succeeds in alighting upon the
back of its unhappy quarry. Its long claws are planted deep into
the quivering flesh, and its sharp teeth make quick work with the ill-
fated sufferer. If, however, the deer sees him in season, and can get
a good footing for a sudden move, it commonly escapes, and the Pan-
ther rarely follows it more than a few rods, for as soon as he finds
that the deer is gaining on him he at once gives up the chase. In
fact, a Panther rarely secures more than one out of every four or five
deer upon which he attempts to spring. Then, too, it not infrequent-
ly happens that he strikes a deer when it is under such headway that
it escapes; and when Panthers were more plenty here than they now
are it was no uncommon thing to shoot a deer bearing deep scars
upon its flanks—scars that were clearly made by the claws of this pow-
erful beast. The female is by far the better hunter and does not lose
so many deer as the male.

The deer that furnish the most nutriment to our Panthers are gen-
erally under two years of age. This is not because this beast is afraid
to attack a full-grown animal, but because young deer are less wary,
and therefore more easily captured.

The distance that a Panther can pass over in a single leap is almost
incredible. On level ground a single spring of twenty feet is by no
means uncommon, and on one occasion Mr. Sheppard measured a leap,
over snow, of nearly forty feet. In this instance there were three
preliminary springs, and the Panther struck his deer on the fourth.

The longest leap measured by Mr. Sheppard was one of sixty feet,

32 MAMMALIA.

but here the Panther jumped from a ledge of rocks about twenty feet
above the level upon which the deer was standing. He struck it
with such force as to knock it nearly a rod farther off.

Under certain conditions of the deep snows the deer cut in so
deeply that the poor animals can make but slow progress. At such
times a Panther, by spreading the toes of his great broad paws,
simulates a man on snow-shoes and sinks but a short distance in the
snow. He thus gains a vital advantage over his prey, and will now
give chase to and capture one that he missed on his first spring.
Under no other circumstances will a Panther pursue a deer, for he
is too well aware of the uselessness of an attempt to overtake so fleet
an animal. Immediately upon killing one he drags it bodily into
some dense thicket or windfall, where he will not be likely to be
observed. He has thus been known to drag a full-grown deer con-
siderably over a hundred feet before reaching a satisfactory covert.
Unlike the wolf, he makes the most of his prey and devours it
all before killing another. One deer generally lasts a Panther a
week or ten days, and during this time he may usually be found
within a mile of the carcass, hidden under some log or uprooted tree.
Sometimes, but very rarely, does he partially bury it, after each meal,
by scraping leaves and brush over it. When all but enough for
one or two meals has been eaten, the Panther, especially if a female
with young, will often make another hunt, but if unsuccessful returns
to the remains of the old carcass.

The young follow the mother till nearly two years old—that is
until about two-thirds grown. She leaves them when hunting, and,
after having killed a deer, returns and leads them to it.

It is often stated that Panthers hunt in pairs, but on one occasion
only has Mr. Sheppard found an adult male and female in company.
This was early in December and the tracks on the snow indicated
that they had been sporting considerably, and were probably rutting.
He killed them both.

The range of these animals, as individuals, is very extensive, and

FELIS CONCOLOR. a

is only limited by the confines of the Adirondacks. They are, indeed,
famous travellers, and when not hunting, roam far and wide, following
the highest ridges of the Wilderness, and finding their path along the
steepest and most inaccessible ledges. During the winter of 1877—78
J. W. Shultz killed one near Lake Terror that he, in company with
E. L. Sheppard, had followed over the summit of Lake Terror Moun -
tain. They sometimes make use of trees to aid in the ascent and
descent of steep rocky cliffs, and generally take refuge in a spruce or
hemlock when pursued by dogs; but under no other circumstances

do any but the young sporting kittens ever climb trees.

Panthers are hunted during the deep snows of winter, when the
hunter, on snow-shoes, makes wide circuits in various directions till
he finds a track. ‘This he follows, leading the dogs, till he comes to
the carcass of a deer which the Panther has recently killed and
partially devoured. Knowing that the animal is not far off he now
“lets loose” the dogs, and as a rule the cowardly beast is soon
“treed” and shot. Out of the twenty-eight Panthers in the killing
of which Mr. Sheppard was concerned, four refused to “ tree,” and
were shot while on the ground. When attacked they never spring
after the dogs, but merely act on the defensive. Whena dog makes
bold to come too near he receives such an energetic “ cuff” from the
Panther's paw that he rarely solicits another.

Though possessed of great strength and power, and naturally quick
in his movements, the Panther is a positive coward. For all that,
when seriously wounded, without being entirely crippled, all his
latent ferocity is aroused, and he rushes fiercely at his assailants.
But even at such times, when in an attitude of supreme anger and
rage, and while lashing the snow impetuously with his long tail, any-
thing thrust into his open mouth serves to divert his wrath from the
enemy to his weapon. Thus on two occasions, once with an axe,
and once with the muzzle of his gun, has Mr. Sheppard saved himself
and his dogs from mutilation, if not from a horrible death.

The hunter commonly follows a Panther for many days, and some-
y J y

MAMMALIA.
34 fA A

times for weeks, before overtaking him, and could never get him
were it not for the fact that he remains near the spot where he kills
a deer till it is eaten. When the hunter has followed a Panther for
days, and has, perhaps, nearly come up with him, a heavy snow-storm
often sets in and obliterates all signs of the track. He is then obliged
to make wide detours to ascertain in which direction the animal has
gone. Onthese long and tiresome snow-shoe tramps he is of course
obliged to sleep, without shelter, wherever night overtakes him.
The heavy walking makes it impossible for him to carry many days’
rations, and when his provisions give out he must strike for some
camp or settlement for a new supply—this of course consumes valu-
able time and enables the Panther to get still farther away. When
the beast is finally killed the event is celebrated by a feast, for Pan-
ther meat is not only palatable, but is really very fine eating.

Most mammals are larger at the north than at the south, but with
the present species the reverse is true. Individuals from various
parts of the south and southwest average considerably larger than
those found in the Adirondacks. This is in obedience to the law,
clearly defined by Mr. J. A. Allen, that: “The maximum physical
development of the individual is attained where the conditions of

environment are most favorable to the life of the species.” *

In the Adirondacks, it is an uncommonly large Panther that meas-
sures eight feet from the end of its nose to the tip of its tail, and an
unusually heavy one that weighs a hundred and fifty pounds. Still,
on the 15th of February, 1877, Mr. Verplanck Colvin, Superintend-
ent of the Adirondack Survey, shot a male on Seventh Lake Moun-
tain, in Hamilton County, that weighed about two hundred pounds.
This is the heaviest Panther concerning which I have been able to
procure trustworthy information. It was killed near a deer “ yard,”
and the carcasses of two of its victims were found hard by. Hence
it is fair to infer that he had been for some time lurking in this vi-

* Bulletin of the U. S. Geol. Survey, Aug., 1876, Vol. II, No. 4, p. 310.

FELIS CONCOLOR. 35

cinity, feasting and fattening upon the deer that were unable to
escape in the deep snow.

An adult Panther stands about two and a half feet high at the shoul-
ders and is so slender that it generally appears to be very thin and
gaunt when in reality it may be quite fat. Either the old males kill the
young males (which I do not think probable), or the females greatly
preponderate at birth; for out of twenty-eight killed by, or through
the instrumentality of E. L. Sheppard, only five were males.

The mother commonly has two kittens at a birth, sometimes one,
three, or even four. The period of gestation was ascertained to be
ninety-seven days in a female observed by the Zoological Society of
London. The young are brought forth late in the winter or in early
spring, and the lair is usually in a shallow cavern on the face of some
inaccessible cliff or ledge of rocks. It is probable that they do not,

with us, have young oftener than every other year.*

SOME COMMON FALLACIES CONCERNING PANTHERS.

Ist. Concerning the alleged Frerceness of the Panther.

Not only is it customary for the community at large to speak of the
terrible danger of encountering one of these dreadful and savage ani-
mals, but even many very respectable works upon Natural History con-

tain the most detailed and heart-rending accounts of the loss of human

* William A. Conklin, Esq., Ph. I., has had the kindness to favor me with the following very
valuable note concerning the breeding of a female Panther, during a series of years, at the Central
Park Menagerie, of which he is director, in New York city. Mr. Conklin writes: ‘‘ In my experi-
ence the period of gestation is thirteen weeks (gt days), and it occasionally, but rarely, exceeds that
time by one or two days. I have one Panther that has bred seven times, as follows:

In her Ist litter were 4 kittens. In her 4th litter were 4 kittens.
ae ad ae “ee 4 “ce oe 5th ae “ce 3 “ea
“ec 3d “ee ae 2 ce ae 6th ae ae 2 “ce

In her 7th litter was r kitten.

Her age, 16 years, at the time of her last litter, and the fact that this female came from Texas,
may have some bearing on the number of young produced at a birth. The cubs are born with the
eyelids closed; they open after eight or nine days. The incisors and canine teeth cut through the
gums in eighteen or twenty days. The body is at first spotted, the spots disappearing in about six
months. They are weaned when three months old. The mother carries the young about in her
mouth in the same way that a cat does her kittens.”

36 MAMMALIA.

life by the brutal attacks of these ferocious beasts. Even as cautious
and reliable a naturalist as Zadock Thompson quotes the following
appalling and blood-curdling tale as an authentic narrative: “Two
hunters, accompanied by two dogs, went out in quest of game, near
the Catskill Mountains. At the foot of a large hill, they agreed to
go round it in opposite directions, and when either discharged his
rifle, the other was to hasten toward him to aid him in securing the
game. Soon after parting, the report of a rifle was heard by one of
them, who, hastening toward the spot, after some search, found noth-
ing but the dog, dreadfully lacerated and dead. He now became
much alarmed for the fate of his companion, and, while anxiously
looking round, was horror-struck by the harsh growl of a Catamount,
which he perceived on a large limb of a tree, crouching upon the
body of his friend, and apparently meditating an attack on himself.
Instantly he levelled his rifle at the beast, and was so fortunate as to
wound it mortally, when it fell to the ground along with the body of
his slaughtered companion. His dog then rushed upon the wound-
ed Catamount, which, with one blow of its paw, laid the poor crea-
ture dead by his side,”* et cetera. The illustrious Audubon, in his
great work upon the Quadrupeds of North America, cautions the read-
er not to credit the legends of the vulgar in regard to the ferocity of
this animal, and its propensity to attack man, and then goes on to
picture midnight encounters and hair-breadth escapes almost as thrill-
ing and improbable as the story above quoted. Oh, the inconsist-
ency of man!

It is now so well known that the Panther is one of the most cow-
ardly of beasts, never attacking man unless wounded and cornered,
that it is unnecessary to do more than contradict the popular im-

pression to the contrary.

2d. Concerning the Method of Capturing its Prey.

It is commonly and widely believed, and frequently and boldly as-

* Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1842, p. 38.

FELIS CONCOLOR. 37

serted in print, that the Panther lurks in ambush for its prey; that it
lies in wait beside the runways of the wary deer, hidden by some
rock or thicket, or crouching upon an overhanging limb, and falls,
like a thunderbolt from heaven, upon the back of its hapless and un-
suspecting victim. * Such romances, however gratifying to the nar-
rator, and entertaining to the community, are without foundation in
fact, and could only have originated in the over-fertile imagination
of a conscienceless fabricator :

ee a false creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain.”

3d. Concerning the Screams of the Panther.

Who has not heard of the piercing cries and startling screams of
the Panther? Who has listened, about the evening camp-fire, to the
tales of hunters and woodsmen, but has felt his blood run cold, and
his hat lighten on his head, as the earnest speaker, perhaps in a
whisper, and uninterrupted save by the sputtering of the fire, told of
the time when alone in the solitudes of the deep forest, and at the
dead of night, he was suddenly awakened by a piercing scream that
burst upon his weary ears. It seemed like the shriek of a woman in
distress, or the pitiful cry of a lost child. Half asleep, bewildered,
and amazed, he starts to his feet to render assistance, when the glar-
ing eyeballs of a fierce Cougar meet his horrified gaze and acquaint
him with the nature of his unwelcome guest!

An attack of indigestion, the cry of a Loon, or the screech of an
Owl,a piece of phosphorescent wood, and a very moderate imagination,
are all that are necessary, in the way of material and connections, to
build up a thrilling tale of this description. Indeed, the writer once
had a bit of personal experience in this line that is not yet forgotten.

In conversing with honest hunters upon this point it has been my
uniform experience to find that those who have had most to do with
Panthers are the most skeptical in regard to their cries; and I have yet

to find the man, whose statements on this point are of any value, that

38 MAMMALIA.

has ever heard a wild Panther scream. This is negative evidence it
is true, but it is by no means without value ; and it is certainly safe
to assert that at least ninety-nine per cent. of the so-called “ Panther

screams '’ emanate from a widely different source.

4th. Concerning the Size of the Panther.

In talking with border hunters of a certain type, and in perusing the
literature of the subject, one is every now and then confronted with the
most fabulous statements concerning the size of the beast now under
consideration. Some would have us believe that Panthers have been
killed and measured with a “two-foot rule” that were eleven,
twelve, and even thirteen feet in length. Formidable beasts, in-
deed! No less an authority than James De Kay tells us, in appar-
ent good faith, that one was killed on an island in Fourth Lake (of
the Fulton Chain) in Herkimer County, that, when recently killed,
“had a total length of eleven feet three inches.”* To those that are
inclined to credit such statements I have only to say: measure off
eleven feet on your floor; place the largest Panther you ever saw on
this measured line, and then tell me on what part of the beast you

would “annex” or ‘splice on” the three or more additional feet.

5th. Concerning the way a Panther carries its Prey.

We often see statements to the effect that a Panther has killed a
deer or a young bullock, “slung it over his back,” and marched off
(perhaps up an embankment, or even climbed a tree) with it. A
Panther drags a deer along the ground just as a dog drags a sheep,
or a cat a big piece of meat, and if he is a large one he may be able

to lift the deer so high that only its hinder parts drag.

* Zoology of New York, Part I, Mammals, 1842, p. 48.

BouNTIES PAID ON PANTHERS UNDER THE LAw oF 1871.

FELIS CONCOLOR.

oo

Data concerning Panthers killed in the Adirondacks from June,

1871,to August, 1882, on which bounties have been paid by the State.*

(From official records on file in the Comptroller’s office, at Albany.)

Locality where killed.
County. 4

Essex,
ae

Franklin,
ace

Hamilton,
ae

ae

Herkimer,

ae
ae
ae
ae
Lewis,
ae
ae

ae

St. Lawrence,

ae

Town.

Newcomb,

ae
Dickinson,

oe
Lake Pleasant,
Long Lake,
Wells,
Wilmurt,

ee

Diana,

ae

oe

oe
Fine,

ae
Township, No. 11,
Fine,

ce

ae

Hopkinton,
Fine,

Hopkinton,
oe

Fine,
Colton,
Fine,
Hopkinton,
Fine,
Colton,
ae

Fine,

ae

oe

oe

oe

ae

“ce

ae

Date of killing.

Nov. 10, 1871,
Dec. 11, 1871,
Feb. 25, 1880,
Aug. 29, 1873,
Dec. 4, 1872,
Feb. 20, 1872,
Heb. 1878,
Dec. Ig, 1876,
Deen S777.
DEGy res 1877
DEE Ts. 1S 77.
Feb. 26, 1878,
March 8, 1878,
May 23, 1882,
June 10, 1882,
June 27, 1882,
July 13, 1882,
june: 7, tat.
June 22, 1871,
Oct, 245 1871,
Une Lye us 72.
June 26, 1872,
June 29, 1872,
Nov. 19, 1873,
June 8, 1873,
Oct 29571872.
Nov. 4, 1874,
Dec. 26, 1876,
Jan. 24, 1877,
Bebe £5, £578:
May 1, 1879,
Oct: 12; 1879;
June 15, 1880,
Jan. 15, 1881,
Noy. 23, 1880,
Octa7- 188i,
Oct. 6, 1881,
Aug. 26, 1881,
July 16, 1881,
May 23, 1881,
April 26, 1881,
Sept. 10, 1881,
Nov. 7, 1881,

By whom killed.

j.. Gs Harmer:
J. C. Farmer,
Wm. H. Cullen,
Chas. A. Merrill,
Milo H. Ober,

Aaron B. Sturges and B. Page,

J. W. Shultz,

Silas Call,

Edwin L. Sheppard,
Edwin L. Sheppard,
Edwin L. Sheppard,
E. N. Arnold,

E. N. Arnold,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
Spencer B. Ward,
Spencer B. Ward,
Michael Duffy,
John Muir,

John Muir,

John Muir,

Noah A. Gale,
John Muir,

Wm. Henry Marsh,
Norman E. Wait,
Charles W. Gale,
Webster Partlow,
Hiram Hutchins,
George Muir,

Peter Burreau,
George Muir,
Hiram Hutchins,
Hiram Hutchins,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,

No
killed.

hota ern en oly eC Ger ei ane ara em OM tug teat Wom re nr mom ec nn!

ae
O

Amt.
paid.

$20
60
20

nf bbb bv
legeeee

$920

* Tt is impossible to obtain, even with approximate accuracy, any satisfactory estimate of the total
number of Panthers that have been killed in the Adirondacks, even during the past fifty years.
Mr. Byron P. Graves, of Boonville, N. Y., shot three in Herkimer and Hamilton Counties during
February and March, 1871, four were killed about the same time in Franklin County, and others

in other parts of the Woods.

A year or two previous to this several Panthers, one of which I

skinned, were shot on the extreme western confines of the Wilderness—in the town of Greig, in
Lewis County. As near as I can reckon, from the data that I have been able to procure, nearly

an hundred Panthers have been killed in the Adirondacks since the year 1860.

4O MAMMALIA.
LYNX CANADENSIS (Wesm.) Raf.

Canada Lynx.

The Lynx is, and so far as I can learn, has always been a rather
rare inhabitant of this region. It is most often met with on the

Champlain or eastern side of the Woods, but is nowhere common.

The Lynx is called “ Loup Cervier” by the French Canadians,
and has been erroneously termed Carcajou, or Wolverine, by some
of the older hunters in this State.

It preys upon the northern hare, and such other small mammals
as it can catch, and upon the Ruffed Grouse and Spruce Partridge.
It has also been known to devour pigs, lambs, and young fawns, but
the accounts of its attacking full-grown deer are not to be credited.

Its haunts are in the deep forests and burnt districts, remote from
the paths of man; and consequently it rarely intrudes upon the
barn-yard.

Its ordinary gait when in a hurry is a long gallop, like that of the

hare, and it is said to swim well.

The female commonly has two young at a birth, her lair being
usually located in a cavern or hollow tree.

The older naturalists, having little or no personal acquaintance
with the animals of which they wrote, were often led into grave
errors when treating of their habits, and even Thomas Pennant,
writing in 1770, said, of the present species, that it “is long lived:
climbs trees: lies in wait for the deer which pass under, falls on
them, and seizing on the jugular vein soon makes them its prey :
will not attack mankind, but is very destructive to the rest of the
animal creation: the furs of these animals are valuable for their soft-
ness and warmth: . . . The ancients celebrated the great quick-
ness of its sight; and feigned that its urine was converted into a

precious stone.”

* Synopsis of Quadrupeds, 1771, pp. 157-188.

LYNX RUFUS. 41
janie. RUFUS ‘Gmielin) Raf.
Wild Cat; Bay Lynx, “Chat Cervter.”

The Wild Cat is, for some reason, an extremely rare animal in the
Adirondacks. It may be that our climate is too severe for it, since

it is much more common farther south.

It frequents rocky hills and ledges, and does not show that antip-
athy to civilization so marked in its congener, the Lynx. In fact it
is often quite common in thickly settled portions of the State, and
sometimes proves of much annoyance to the farmer by carrying off
lambs, little pigs, and poultry—ducks, geese, turkeys, and chickens
proving alike acceptable. Away from the farm-yard it feeds upon
rabbits, squirrels, mice, grouse, and what small birds it is fortunate
enough to capture. It generally makes its nest in a hollow tree
or log, and lines it well with moss. From two to four young con-

stitute a litter, the most frequent number being three.

In 1873 or 1874, I shot a grouse as it was flying along the north
side of Mt. Tom, in Massachusetts. Scarcely had it touched the
rocky slope when a Wild Cat sprang upon it, from behind a neigh-
boring bush, and, in a succession of rapid leaps, started up the side
of the mountain with the grouse in its mouth. ‘The contents of the
other barrel of my gun caused him to change his mind as well as

direction.

I have eaten the flesh of the Wild Cat, and can pronounce it excel-

lent. It is white, very tender, and suggests veal more than any other

meat with which I am familiar.

When enraged, this animal is the most ferocious-looking beast I
have ever seen, and hisses, spits, and growls in the most unattractive

manner imaginable.

The term ‘“ Wild Cat” is sometimes also applied to certain erratic
individuals of the domestic cat kind, that have become wild and make

their homes in the forest, bringing forth their young in hollow logs,

4

42 MAMMALIA.

old stumps, and caves, and preying upon poultry and eggs as well as
upon wild game. With these the present species must not be con-

founded.
Family CANIDA.

CANIS LUPUS Linnzus.
Wolf.

Comparatively few Wolves are now to be found in the Adiron-
dacks, though twelve years ago they were quite abundant, and used
to hunt in packs of half a dozen or more.

They have hard work to get a living here, and are always gaunt
and hungry. They cannot catch deer with any certainty except in
deep snow, and are, therefore, during the greater part of the year, forced
to subsist upon skunks, hares, mice, frogs, carrion, and such other food
as they are able to procure. In times past they were a great enemy
to the settlers of this region and within fifty years have caused our
border farmers much annoyance by destroying their sheep and pigs ;
they have also been known to kill calves and young colts.

In summer they sometimes drive a deer into a lake and follow it
along the shore, from time to time jumping high in the air in order
to sight it and determine the direction in which it is swimming. If
the lake is a small one and there are enough Wolves, they are oc-
casionally able to pounce upon it as it emerges from the water; but
this rarely happens, and the deer almost always escapes. In Septem-
ber, 1870, I saw a pack of Wolves drive a deer into the head of
Seventh Lake, Fulton Chain. It escaped the Wolves to be slain by
a man with a shot-gun!

Within my recollection Wolves were so common here that scarce-
ly a night passed when they could not be heard howling in various
parts of the forest. So bold and impudent were they that they often
came about camp while the inmates were sleeping and stole any
venison, or other meat, that chanced to hang within reach,

CANIS LUPUS. -
43

The amount of noise that a single Wolf is capable of producing is
simply astonishing, and many amusing episodes of camp lore owe
their origin to this fact. More than one “lone traveller” has hastily
taken to a tree, and remained in the inhospitable shelter of its scrawny
branches for an entire night, believing himself surrounded by a pack
of at least fifty fierce and hungry Wolves, when, in reality, there was
but one, and (as its tracks afterwards proved) it was on the farther
side of a lake, a couple of miles away.

The Wolf is one. of the most cowardly and wary of our mammals,
always taking good care to keep out of sight; and he is so crafty and
sagacious that it is almost impossible to allure him into any kind of
a trap.

When. opportunity affords he is one of the most destructive and
wasteful of brutes, always killing as much game as possible, regard-
less of the condition of his appetite, and he used to be the greatest
enemy that our deer had to contend with. During the deep snows |
a small pack of Wolves would sometimes kill hundreds of deer, tak-
ing here and there a bite, but leaving the greater number untouched.

In the year 1871 the State put a bounty™ on their scalps, and it is
a most singular coincidence that a great and sudden decrease in their
numbers took place about that time. What became of them is a great
and, to me, inexplicable mystery, for it is known that but few were
killed. There is but one direction in which they could have es-
caped, and that is through Clinton County into Lower Canada. In
so doing they would have been obliged to pass around the north end
of Lake Champlain and cross the River Richelieu, and before reach-
ing any extensive forests would have had to travel long distances
through tolerably well-settled portions of country. And there is no
evidence that they made any such journey.

The Wolf makes its nest: in rocky caverns, under the upturned
roots of fallen trees, and in hollow logs; and where suitable shelter

* The law granting this bounty has already been given in a foot note under the Panther. See

pp. 29-30.

44

cannot be found, it digs holes in the ground for its home.

MAMMALIA.

From six

to ten pups constitute a litter, and they are usually produced in April
or May. ‘The period of gestation is said to be sixty-three days.*

BounTIES PAID ON WOLVES UNDER THE LAw OF 1871.

Data concerning Wolves killed in the Adirondacks from June,

1871, to July, 1882, on which bounties have been paid by the State.

(From official records on file in the Comptroller's office, at Albany.)

County.
Essex,
Franklin,

ae
ae

Herkimer,

oe
Oneida,
ae
ae

Lewis,

ce
St. Lawrence,
oe
ae

ae

“ec
sé
sé
ae
oe
ae
ae
“ec
ee
“e
ae
ac
“ce
“ec
“ec
“ec
“ce
se
se
ac
ae
ac
ae

“se

Washington,

Locality where killed.
a i

own.
Minerva,
Duane,
Brandon,
ae

Ohio,

Forest Port,

ce
Greig,
Diana,
Fine,
Hopkinton,
oe

sé

Fine,

“ce

Pitcairn,
ac
Brasher,
Fine,

ae

se

Hopkinton,
Fine,

ae

oe

ae

ae

ae

oe
Parishville,
Colton,
Hopkinton,
Fine,

ae

ac

ae

oe

oe

ae

Hopkinton,
Dresden,

Date of killing.

Sept. 6, 1872,
July 4, 1874,
June 12, 1875,
June 17, 1875,
Jan. 28, 1882,
Feb. 2, 1882,
Feb. 14, 1882,
March 15, 1882,
March Ig, 1882,
Nov. 10, 1881,
June 27, 1882,
Oct 17, coz.
Aug. 17, 1871,
AlgS E77, Loz,
Oct. 6, 1871,
Nov. 7, 1872,
May 26, 1872,
Nov. 4, 1872,
Dec, 12,1873;
Dee 2x1, 1872:
May 22, 1875,
May 24, 1875,
May 15, 1876,
Oct. 9, 1876,
April 8, 1878,
May 5, 1877,
July 14, 1877,
April 29, 1879,
Sept, 16, 1878,
April 26, 1880,
Oct. 3, 1880,
Noy. 13, 1880,
Nov. 5, 1880,
Nov. 6, 1880,
Sept. 25, 1881,
Aug. 24, 1881,
July 20, 1881,
June 11, 1881,
June 11, 1881,
April 28, 1881,
Nov. 8, 1881,
Sept. 20, 1881,

By whom killed.

Wesley Rice,
James H. Bean,
Calvin Wait,
Calvin Wait,
Henry Sheldon,
Henry Sheldon,
Henry Dunan,
Henry Dunan,
Henry Dunan,
George Botchford,
George Muir,
John Muir,
George Spear,
George Spear,
Joseph Whitney,
John Muir,
John Muir,
Aaron Thomas,
Aaron Thomas,
Timothy Desmond,
John Muir,
John Muir,
John Muir,
George Peck,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
Henry C. Hibbard,
Abram Barkley,
Jonathan Baldwin,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
George Muir,
Henry Hibbard,

Feb., 1882, latter part, Rollin Gamby,
March, 1882, early part, Rollin Gamby,

* Fauna Americana, by Richard Harlan, M.D,, 1825, p. 81.

No.

killed.

& | f
UI La OT DD De er

Pup

Amt.
paid.

60

VULPES VULGARIS PENNSYLVANICUS. 45
VULPES VULGARIS PENNSYLVANICUS (Bodd.) Coues.
Fox, Red Fox; Cross Fox; Silver Fox; Black Fox.

The common Fox is a tolerably abundant resident in the “ North
Woods,” and its short bark is often heard, after nightfall, by parties
encamped about our lakes.

He is both nocturnal and diurnal in habits, and preys upon skunks,
woodchucks, muskrats, hares, rabbits, squirrels, mice, and small birds
and eggs. He is a well-known and much-dreaded depredator of the
poultry-yard, destroying, with equal alacrity, turkeys, ducks, geese,
hens, chickens, and doves; and has been known to make off with
young lambs. He will also eat carrion, and even fish, and is said to
be fond of ripe grapes and strawberries.

The cunning of the Fox is proverbial. Wily, crafty, and sagacious,
toa degree almost beyond credibility, he defies the superior skill and
intelligence of man, and meets, with shrewd manceuvre and subtle
stratagem, all attempts at his extermination. He lives and thrives
and multiplies in our very midst, and is as common in many of the
thickly settled portions of the State as in the remotest depths of the
primeval forests.

He is hunted both for pleasure and profit, and for the gratification
of a malicious spite that seems to be inherent in man for his destruc-
tion. He is trapped for where his presence is suspected, hounded
when his foot-prints are seen on the snow, dug out when found in
his subterranean burrow, and shot at when surprised at any of his
tricks, from the first hour of his youthful gambols till the time that he
finally succumbs before man’s combined and persistent efforts to-
ward his annihilation. Nevertheless, his race survives, and I have
yet to be convinced that his numbers have undergone any very ma-
terial diminution during the last hundred years.

The influence of zatural selection in developing hereditary habits
for the protection of the species is well exemplified in this animal, for

he seems familiar, from earliest infancy, with the multifarious contri-

A6 MAMMALIA.

vances devised by man for his capture, and avoids them all, eluding
and circumventing his pursuer with an intelligence and promptness
that command our wonder and respect.

The pastime (?) of Fox hunting is largely practised everywhere along
the border-lands of our Wilderness, and two or three men, with one
or two fox-hounds, commonly constitute a hunting party. As soon
as a fresh track is found the dog is allowed to follow it, which he
does with great joy and alacrity. The men now separate, each pro-
ceeding, without further delay, to some ravine, hill-side, or other
point that is known to be one of the “‘run-ways” of the Fox. Oc-
casionally the Fox, on being started, makes a round on one of these
courses, and is shot while passing the first station. More commonly, |
however, he makes off, taking a tolerably straight course, and runs
several miles before commencing to circle and wind about among the
hills. Therefore the hunter is, on these interesting excursions, generally
obliged to walk many miles over the deep snow, and night frequently
overtakes him, tired and hungry, far from the cheerful fireside of his
pleasant home. And he may, or may not, have been rewarded by
securing the object of the chase.

It sometimes happens, especially during a thaw, when the snow
“slumps, that the dog catches up with the Fox. At such times both
pursuer and pursued are commonly well-nigh exhausted, and the weary
hunter lags far behind. The resulting scene, to which I have myself
been an eye-witness, is so graphically depicted by Audubon and
Bachman that I take pleasure in reproducing their account of it here :
«. . . . every bound and plunge into the snow, diminishes the dis-
tance between the Fox and his relentless foe. . . . . One more
desperate leap, and with a sudden snappish growl he turns upon his
pursuer, and endeavors to defend himself with his sharp teeth. For
a moment he resists the dog, but is almost instantly overcome. He
is not killed, however, in the first onset; both dog and Fox are so
fatigued that they now sit on their haunches facing each other, rest-

ing, panting, their tongues hanging out, and the foam from their lips

VULPES VULGARIS PENNSYLVANICUS. 47

dropping on the snow. After fiercely eyeing each other for a while,
both become impatient—the former to seize his prey, and the latter
to escape. At the first leap cf the Fox, the dog is upon him; with
renewed vigor he seizes him by the throat, and does not loose his
hold until the snow is stained with his blood, and he lies rumpled,
draggled, with blood-shot eye, and frothy open mouth, a mangled
carcass on the ground.”*

Not infrequently the Fox, after leading his pursuers a long and tire-
some chase, betakes himself to his hole. If this chances to lie with-
in a ledge of rocks it is the safest of retreats, but if it be merely a
burrow in the earth he is by no means secure, for the hunters (pro-
vided they have enough energy and ambition left) repair to the
nearest farm-house for spade and pick with which to dig out the luck-
less beast.

Hence Fox hunting, with us, can hardly be ranked among the
most fascinating of sports; and those that indulge in it must have
good pluck and hard muscle or they are apt to come out the worse
for wear. Sze transit gloria mundi / Having “killed my Fox” I am
not now easily seduced into this form of recreation.

Foxes make rather pretty pets, and, when taken young, are easily
tamed; but they are so deceitful and treacherous that they are not
apt to gain one’s affection.

The Fox makes its nest in caverns and ledges of rocks, in burrows
in the earth, and occasionally in old stumps and hollow logs. From
four to nine young are brought forth at a time, the usual period be-
ing, with us, the latter part of March or first of April.

Family MUSTELID&. Subfamily MUSTELIN/&.

Nore.—The Wolverine (Gado /uscus) is not now an inhabitant of
the Adirondacks, and I have been unable to find among the hunters

and trappers of this region anyone who has ever seen it in our Wilder-

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 48.

48 MAMMALIA.

ness. Dr. DeKay, writing in 1842, said: “Although we have not
met with this animal, yet hunters who have killed them repeatedly,
and knew them well, have assured us that they are still found in the
districts north of Raquet Lake.’*

Dr. Bachman killed one, about the year 1811, in its den in a ledge
of rocks, in Rensselaer County.+

This animal is the Carcajou of the Canadians.

MUSTELA PENNANTIT Enteben.
Fisher; Pekan; Pennant's Marten; “ Black Cat; “ Black Fox.”

Though not so common as formerly, the Fisher, as it is here termed,
is by no means a rare inhabitant of these mountains.

The name Fisher is somewhat of a misnomer, for these animals
commonly frequent deep swamps and wooded mountain-sides, away
from the immediate vicinage of water, and are not known to catch
fish for themselves as do the Mink and Otter. However, they are
fond of fish and never neglect to devour those that chance to fall in
their way. They prey chiefly upon hares, squirrels, mice, grouse,
small birds, and frogs, and are said to eat snakes. They also catch
and feed upon their own congener, the Marten, and make a practice
of devouring all that they discover in dead-falls and steel-traps,
thus proving almost as great a nuisance to the trapper as the Wol-
verine. It is said to be less objectionable than the Wolverine in one
particular: 2. ¢. it leaves the traps where it finds them, while the other
blackleg often lugs them off and hides them.

Sir John Richardson tells us that “its favorite food is the Canada
Porcupine, which it kills by biting in the belly.” This habit, which
has been questioned, has recently received additional confirmation
from the pen of Corporal Lot Warfield, who writes of this animal,
from Weston, Vermont, stating his experience as follows: “I

agree with ‘ Penobscot’ that they are not plenty, but account for it on

* Zoology of New York, Part I, Mammals, 1842, p. 28.
+ Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, pp. 207-208.

MUSTELA PENNANTI. 49

different grounds, namely, its fondness for the flesh of the porcupine,
whose quills often prove fatal to it. I have several times found the
quills buried in their bodies, besides quantities of flesh, hair, and quills
in the stomach and excrements, and from this gained a point in bait-
ing them; let other trappers try it. They are an agile, muscular
animal, jumping from tree to tree like a squirrel, clearing a distance
of forty feet in a descending leap, never failing a secure grip.”

During a recent visit to the north shore of the Gulf of St. Law-
rence I was informed, both by an agent of the Hudson’s Bay Com-
pany and by the trappers themselves, that porcupines constitute a
large and important element in the food supply of the Pekan. Mr.
Nap. A. Comeau, of Godbout, who secured for me a large and hand-
some male of this species, tells me that its intestine contained hun-
dreds of porcupine quills, arranged in clusters, like so many packages
of needles, throughout its length. In no case had a single quill pene-
trated the mucous lining of the intestine, but they were, apparently,
passing along its interior as smoothly and surely as if within a tube
of glass or metal. Mr. Comeau could not discover a quill in any of
the abdominal viscera, or anywhere in the abdominal cavity, except-
ing as above stated. A great many, however, were found imbedded
in the muscles of the head, chest, back, and legs, and it was remarked
that their presence gave rise to no irritation, no products of inflam-
mation being discovered in their vicinity. In examining the partially
cleaned skeleton of this specimen I still find some of the quills in the
deep muscles and ligaments about the joints. A knee, in particular,
shows several in its immediate neighborhood. One is deeply im-
bedded in the dense ligament alongside the patella; three lie parallel
to and close against the tibia, and two can be seen between it and the
fibula.

It is probable that all of these quills entered the body of the animal

while engaged in killing and devouring the porcupine, for those swal-

* Forest and Stream, Vol. XII, No. 21, June 26, 1879, p. 405.

So MAMMALIA.

lowed seemed to have caused no trouble after having fairly entered
the alimentary canal. Therefore there remains no question whatever
that the Fisher feeds upon the porcupine, but I do not agree with
Corporal Warfield in the belief that the “quills often prove fatal to it.”

It is indeed remarkable that an animal no larger than the one now
under consideration should habitually feed upon a beast in whose
capture he must be pierced with numbers of large and sharp needles,
many of which exceed two and a half inches (64 mm.) in length—
needles that are destined to penetrate to the remotest parts of his
body.

That it, at times, attacks so large and tough an animal as the Rac-
coon is evident from the following : Dr. Coues, in his valuable Mono-
graph of North American Mustelide (pp. 73-74), quotes a letter from
Peter Reed to Prof. Spencer F. Baird, to the effect that the writer
once followed, on the snow, the bloody trail that marked the prog-
ress of a fierce and desperate contest between a Fisher and a ’Coon.
This was in Washington County, New York, near the southeastern
border of the Adirondack region. Mr. Reed further stated that as the
Fisher became rare in that section the Raccoon greatly increased in

abundance, and he regards these circumstances as cause and effect.

When pressed by hunger the Pekan is said to subsist upon beech-
nuts. This could hardly be true in the Adirondacks, for here a good
yield of beech-nuts is almost invariably followed by an abundance of
small game—grouse, squirrels, chipmunks, and mice alike fattening
upon the mast. “ Beech-nut years,” too, are apt to be followed by
mild winters; while it is during the deep snows of our severest winters,
when there are few or no beech-nuts, and a consequent scarcity of
small game prevails, that Pennant’s Marten is likely to be pinched
for food.

The Pekan is a large and powerful mammal, with resemblances
pointing both toward the Marten and the Wolverine. Individuals
have been killed that stood a foot high and measured three and a
half feet in length, but this is much above the average size. As there

MUSTELA PENNANTI 51

are “giants among men,’ and “giant wolves,” so are there giants
among Fishers. They are always males. About twenty years ago
E. L. Sheppard caught one on Seventh Lake (Fulton Chain) that
was estimated to weigh about forty pounds and whose skin was
larger than that of a good-sized Otter! In my Osteological Cabinet
reposes the skull of a Fisher that measures five inches in length. It
was presented to me by Mr. John Constable, who killed it between
Stony Lake and “The Hollow,’ near Independence River, dur-
ing the early part of the winter of 1840. Mr. Constable tells me
that it ascended a gigantic dead pine, the tip of which had broken
off. The “stub” of this tree was more than six feet through at the
base, and upwards of an hundred and fifty feet in height. The Fisher
climbed to the very top and lodged in a depression where the tip
had broken off. He was shot but was so lodged that he did not fall,
and the tree had to be felled before he was secured. The pine was
an unusually fine one—a straight pillar, tapering uniformly to the top,
and so perpendicular and well balanced that when the side choppings
met it did not fall, and was with great difficulty overthrown. When
it did finally tumble, and the cloud of snow that filled the air as it
came crashing and thundering to the ground had cleared away, the
Fisher was found to be dead. It proved to be in keeping with the
tree it had climbed, for it was as large as an Otter and by far the
biggest Fisher that Mr. Constable, or the old hunter with him, had
ever seen.

Though chiefly nocturnal they sometimes hunt by day. They are
expert climbers and have been known to leap from one tree to an-
other when in pursuit of their prey, and also when badly frightened.

Their nest is made in the hollow of some standing tree, generally
thirty or forty feet from the ground, and from two to four young are

commonly brought forth about the first of May.

52 MAMMALIA.
MUSTELA AMERICANA Turton.

Marten; American Sable; Pine Marten; Hudson's Bay Sable.

The Marten is a common resident of the dark evergreen forests
of the Adirondacks, and hundreds of them are trapped here every
winter for their fur. Like the Fisher, it is chiefly nocturnal, but is
occasionally seen abroad by day. ‘They prey upon partridges, rab-
bits, squirrels, chipmunks, mice, shrews, and any other “small game ”
that they are smart enough to catch. Birds’ eggs and young birds
are greedily devoured, and frogs and toads, and even our larger in-
sects, do not come amiss. It is said that they are exceedingly fond of
honey, but on how good authority I am unable to attest. They are
arboreal to such an extent that they are never found in districts de-
void of timber, and seem to show a predilection for coniferous forests.
Not only are they expert climbers, but they sport about amongst the
tree-tops, both in pursuit of game and pleasure, with the ease and
grace of squirrels. Preferring moss-covered logs and the seclusion
of deep evergreen woods to the beaten paths and stir of the settled
districts, or even the rude civilization of the hardy frontiersman, the
Marten avoids the clearings and habitations of man, and cannot be
reckoned among the depredators of the poultry-yard.

It is one of the prettiest of North American mammals, but its dis-
position is sadly out of harmony with its attractive exterior. Mr.
John Constable has narrated to me a most interesting and vivid ac-
count of an affray that he once witnessed, in company with his
brother, Mr. Stevenson Constable, between a Marten and a Great
Northern Hare. The Marten, generally so meek and docile in ap-
pearance, assumed the savage mien and demeanor of a fierce tiger,
as it attacked and slew the luckless hare—an animal of several times
its own size and weight. And even after the poor hare was dead
the Marten’s fury did not abate, and he angrily jerked and twisted the
lifeless body from side to side, as if to reek vengeance, for sins never
committed, upon the defenceless body of his innocent victim. So in-

MUSTELA AMERICANA. aie)

tent was he upon this deed of carnage that he was utterly oblivious
to the human spectators, who put an end to the scene by driving a
bullet through his obdurate pate.

Audubon said of it : “ Let us take a share of the cunning and sneak-
ing character of the fox, as much of the wide-awake and cautious
habits of the weasel, a similar proportion of the voracity (and a little
of the fetid odor) of the mink, and add thereto some of the climbing
propensities of the raccoon, and we have a tolerable idea of the at-
tributes of the little prowler.” *

Mr. Constable tells me that when the hunter discovers a Marten
climbing about amongst the tree-tops he has only to whistle, and the
inquisitive animal will stop and peer down at him, affording an ex-
cellent shot.

I have no personal knowledge of the size of a litter of Martens,
and the number of young produced at a time is variously stated (2
to 8 being the extremes given) by different authors. The assertion
that from four to six constitute an average litter would probably hit
pretty close to the truth. The nest is placed in a hollow tree or
log, rarely in the ground, and the young are brought forth in April.

The fur of this species, which is one of the most valuable of fur-
bearing animals, becomes prime early in November. As long ago
as 1770, Pennant said that their skins were “a prodigious article of
commerce”; + and Richardson, in 1829, stated that ‘ Upward of one
hundred thousand skins have long been collected annually in the fur
countries. { Dr. Coues tells us that: “Even in Nova Scotia a
thousand skins are said to have been exported annually within a
few years, and they may justly be regarded as among the most im-
portant of the land fur-bearing animals.” And goes on to say, “ Re-
specting their comparative scarcity at times, Mr. Ross has recorded a

remarkable fact of periodical disappearance. ‘It occurs in decades,’

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. III, 1854, p. 177.
¢ Synopsis of Quadrupeds, 1771, p. 216.

{ Fauna Boreali Americana, Vol. I, 1829.

54 MAMMALIA.

he says, ‘or thereabouts, with wonderful regularity, and it is quite
unknown what becomes of them. They are not found dead. The
failure extends throughout the Hudson’s Bay Territory at the same
time. And there is no tract or region to which they can migrate
where we have not posts, or into which our hunters have not pene-
trated.’ ” *

PUTORIUS VULGARIS (Aldrov.) Griff.
Least Weasel.

Having been reared in the rural districts of northeastern New York,
I early became acquainted with this interesting little animal, and have
always watched its habits with a great deal of pleasure. It is the com-
monest Weasel in the Adirondack region, and always turns white
shortly after the first fall of snow. It inhabits all parts of the Wilder-
ness, being found alike along water-courses, in deep swamps, and on
rocky ledges and mountain sides. It preys upon mice, moles, shrews,
small birds and eggs, and insects—chiefly Coleoptera. 1 have never
known it to attack larger mammals or poultry.

Numbers of mice make their homes under the heaps of brush and
rubbish and piles of stones that accumulate along the borders of clear-
ings and in neglected pastures. Such places, together with old
tumbled-down stone walls and log heaps constitute, therefore, the
favorite haunts of the Least Weasel in the semi-civilized districts.
It is not wary and will suffer man to approach within a few feet of it
before withdrawing from view. It is curious and inquisitive and will
soon stick its head out of some hole near by to see what has become
of the intruder. Ever on the alert it moves backwards and forwards
generally keeping near some object, behind, into, or under which it
can disappear at a moment's notice, and is never still for any appre-
ciable length of time—a fact which can easily be demonstrated by
attempting to hit one of them with a rifle ball.

* Fur-Bearing Animals, 1877, p. 94

~~ iow

PUTORIUS VULGARIS. a

They are said to be nocturnal in habits, but those that I have seen,
and their number is not small, all seemed very much at home in
broad daylight. I have often surprised them in the woods and fields,
and have observed that on such occasions they usually make for some
convenient covert and, when within reach of its shelter, immediately
turn about to view the stranger, who is now an object of curiosity
rather than of alarm. Once, while sitting quietly on the end of an
old log, in the woods, I noticed one of these pretty little Weasels
coming obliquely toward me, in a series of leisurely leaps, stopping
every now and then to look about. Perceiving me he stood bolt up-
right, his head bent at right angles to his slender body, and eyed me
fora moment without moving a muscle; he then betook himself to
the roots of the nearest tree, and under the quasi-protection of this
open retreat, commenced a more deliberate survey of my peculiarities.
Many times did he advance toward me, and as many back up to the
tree again, with his head elevated, and constantly sniffing the air in
my direction. He finally gathered sufficient courage to cross over
to the log upon which I was sitting, and under the shelter of its -
shadow scrutinized me still more closely.

The Least Weasel is so small and slender that it can easily enter
the burrows of alarge proportion of the animals that constitute its prey.
When they take to the open fields and outrun their pursuer, he is
not discouraged, but follows their tracks by the scent, like a hound,
and overtakes them in their securest retreats; thus are his ill-fated
victims attacked in their own homes, and thus are they deprived of any
haven to which they may fly to escape from the eager pursuit of this
indefatigable and inexorable little beast:

I have never found the nest of the Weasel, and therefore transcribe
the following account of its breeding habits from the pen of Thomas
Bell: «The female Weasel brings forth four, or more frequently five
young, and is said to have two or three litters in a year. The nest is
composed of dry leaves and herbage, and is warm and dry, being

usually placed in a hole in a bank, in a dry ditch, or in a hollow tree.

5G MAMMALIA.

She will defend her young with the utmost desperation against any
assailant, and sacrifice her own life rather than desert them; and
even when the nest is torn up by a dog, rushing out with great fury,

and fastening upon his nose or lips.”

PUTORIUS ERMINEA (Linn.) Cuvier.

Ermine; Steat; Large Weasel; “White Weasel”; “Brown Weasel.”

The Ermine is a common resident and, like the preceding species,
becomes white at the approach of winter. Like it also, it wanders
over different kinds of territory, and is frequently taken in traps set
for more valuable fur. In addition to the small game mentioned as
constituting the larder of the Least Weasel, the Ermine attacks and
slays animals many times its own size and weight. Thus the house
rat, squirrels, rabbits, and even the great northern hare fall easy
victims before its superior prowess. It is very fond of the ruffed
grouse, and its proneness to depopulate the poultry- yard is notorious.
Audubon tells us that he has ‘“‘known forty well-grown fowls to have
been killed in one night by a single Ermine.” And on our own
premises a Stoat once killed fifteen doves ina single night! Rats
and mice also it slays by dozens when opportunity presents. Unlike
others of its tribe it does not, when game is plenty, devour the flesh
of its victims, but merely eats their brains or sucks their blood; and
when feasted to satiety continues its work of carnage till scarcity of
material, or bodily fatigue, induce it to take a temporary respite.

Ever victorious, of pre-eminent assurance, reliant on its own superi-
ority and power, and confident of success, this indomitable little
animal is, in courage and ferocity, insatiate bloodthirstiness, and bold
audacity, almost without parallel in the history ot mammalia. Hun-
ger plays but little part in the slaughter, the war of destruction and
extermination, waged against its multifarious prey by this terrestrial

vampire, but pitiless, relentless, wasteful in the extreme, it kills for

* Quoted in Coues’ Fur-Bearing Animals, 1877, p. 109.

PUTORIUS ERMINEA. 57

the mere sake of killing, and its entire existence is almost one con-

tinuous course of bloodshed.

Dr. Coues speaks thus of its general aspect: “A glance at the
physiognomy of the Weasels would suffice to betray their character.
The teeth are almost of the highest known raptorial character; the
jaws are worked by enormous masses of muscles covering all the side
of the skull. The forehead is low, and the nose is sharp; the eyes
are small, penetrating, cunning, and glitter with an angry green light.
There is something peculiar, moreover, in the way that this fierce
face surmounts a body extraordinarily wiry, lithe, and muscular. It
ends a remarkably long and slender neck in such a way that it may
be held at a right angle with the axis of the latter. When the crea-
ture is glancing around, with the neck stretched up, and flat triangu-
lar head bent forward, swaying from one side to the other, we catch
the likeness in a moment—it is the image. of a serpent.” *

The foregoing forcible picture fits the Weasel well when under
conditions of excitement and anger; but there are times when its
appearance in no wise suggests its sanguinary propensities. In cer-
tain states of pelage it is very beautiful, and when at rest a more
innocent and harmless looking creature can hardly be found. On
the approach of any of the animals that constitute its prey, how-

ever, its bearing is instantly changed, and its fiendish nature is soon
revealed.

I once put a very large rat into a square tin cage with a Weasel
of this species. The rat had been caught in a steel trap, by the toes
of one of its hind feet, and was in no way injured. He was very
ugly, biting fiercely at the trap and the stick with which I assisted
him into the cage of the Weasel. No sooner had he entered the
cage than his whole manner and bearing changed. He immediately
assumed an attitude of abject terror, trembled from head to foot, and

crawled into the nearest corner. The Weasel advanced toward

* Fur-bearing Animals, 1877, p. 129.

58 MAMMALIA.

him at once, and as he did so the rat raised on his hind legs, let-
ting his fore paws hang helplessly over his breast, and squealed
piteously. Not only did he show no disposition to fight, but offered
no resistance whatever, and did not even attempt to defend himself
when molested. The Weasel did not seize him at first, but cuffed
him with his fore paws and drove him from one corner of the cage to
another, glaring at him continuously. Then, with a sudden move, he
sprang upon his victim, already paralyzed with fear, laid open the
back of his head with a single bite, ate the brains, and left the quiver-
ing carcass untouched.

The Ermine hunts both by day and by night, and climbs trees with
great ease and celerity. I have often “treed” them myself by run-
ning after them in the woods, and have also seen them chase chip-
munks up trees. Twice have I seen them run up the smooth trunks
of the beech. They are not very timid and will allow a near ap-
proach before taking fright.

The much lamented Robert Kennicott, whose untimely death on
the icy shores of the Yukon* deprived the world, prematurely, of one
of her most indefatigable and conscientious naturalists, gave us such an
interesting and truthful account of the habits of this species, that I
take pleasure in reproducing brief portions of it here. He said: “A
more fierce and cruel mammal does not exist in America than this
little Weasel. The courage and sanguinary disposition of the pan-
ther are insignificant in comparison, having regard to the strength of
the two. Without hesitation, the Weasel attacks animals five or ten
times its Own size; and, not content with killing enough for food,
wantonly destroys whatever life it can,..... When a Weasel has
gained access to a poultry-yard, it will frequently kill every fowl with-
in its reach in a single visit. . . . Fortunately, however, this animal,
even when abundant, does not enter the farm-yard so frequently as

might be expected, appearing to prefer a free life in the woods to

* Mr. Kennicott died of heart disease, May 13, 1866, aged thirty. (Dall’s Alaska, 1870, p. 70.)

PUTORIUS ERMINEA, 59

easy but dangerous feasts on domestic fowls. . . . I have observed
for several years the presence of a number of these Weasels in a
grove near a farm-yard well stocked with poultry, which they never
appeared to enter, though repeatedly visited by minks and skunks.
Indeed, I am inclined to think that, notwithstanding their occasional
predatory inroads, they should not be killed when living permanently
about meadows or cultivated fields, at a distance from the poultry;
for they are not less destructive to many of the farmer’s enemies in
the fields. Meadow-mice are certainly the greatest pests among
mammals in northern Illinois; and of these the Weasel destroys great
numbers. I am informed that, upon the appearance of a Weasel in
the field, the army of mice ofall kinds begins a precipitate retreat.
A gentleman of Wisconsin related to me that, while following the
plough, in spring, he noticed a Weasel with a mouse in its mouth,
running past him. It entered a hollow log. He determined to watch
further, if possible, the animal’s movements, and presently saw it
come out again, hunt about the roots of some stumps, dead trees, and
log-heaps, and then enter a hole, from which a mouse ran out. But
the Weasel had caught one, and carried it to the nest. Upon cutting
open this log, five young Weasels were found, and the remains of a
large number of mice, doubtless conveyed there as food. . .

“Stacks and barnfuls of grain are often overrun with rats and mice;
but let a Weasel take up his residence there and soon the pests will
disappear. A Weasel will, occasionally, remain for some time in a
barn, feeding on these vermin, without disturbing the fowls. But it
is never safe to trust one near the poultry-yard, for, when once an at-
tack is made, there is no limit to the destruction. When the animal
has entered stacks or barns, it has the curious habit of collecting in a
particular place the bodies of all the rats and mice it has slain; thus
sometimes a pile of a hundred or more of their victims may be seen

which have been killed in the course of two or three nights.’"*

* The Quadrupeds of Illinois injurious and beneficial to the Farmer. By Robert Kennicott.

Report of the Commissioner of Patents for the year 1857, Agriculture, 1858, pp. 104-106.

60 MAMMALIA.

And in another place Mr. Kennicott tells us that an Ermine “ de-
stroyed nearly fifty chickens, several of which were adults and many
half grown, in a single night, and the early part of the following even-
ing; and it was so bold as to kill several young chickens in a coop
beside which a man was standing, watching for it. I finally shot it
while it was running near me in pursuit of a chicken, though a few
minutes before we had chased it into a retreat under a haystack:
This extreme boldness could not have been the result of hunger, as it
had already, during the same evening, killed a large number of fowls.’’*

Their nests are usually made in an old stump or log-heap, or under
some outbuilding, and from four to six young are commonly brought
forth early in May. The young are apt to remain during the summer

in the vicinity of the nest.

The Ermine as a Ferret.

That the Ermine can be successfully employed as a Ferret is amply
proven by the following narrative, from the pen of Dr. John Bachman:
«Whilst residing in the State of New York many years ago, we were
desirous of preserving a number of rabbits during the winter from the
excessive cold and from the hands of the hunters, who killed so many
that we feared the race would be nearly extirpated in our neighbor-
hood; our design being to set them at liberty in the spring. At this
period we had in. confinement several Weasels of two species exist-
ing in that part of the country... .

“We bethought ourselves of using one of each species of these
Weasels instead of a Ferret, to aid in taking the rabbits we wanted, and
having provided ourselves with a man and a dog to hunt the rabbits
to their holes, we took the Weasels in a small tin box with us, having
first tied a small cord around their necks in such a manner as to pre-
vent them from escaping, or remaining in the holes to eat the rabbits,
whilst it could not slip and choke them.

* Tbid., 1858, p. 244.

PUTORIUS ERMINEA. 61

«“ We soon raced a rabbit to its hole, .. .”’ and the Ermine ‘“al-
though we had captured the individual but a few days before, entered
readily; but having his jaws at liberty, it killed the rabbit. Relin-
quishing the Weasel to our man, he afterwards filed its teeth down to
prevent it from destroying the rabbits; and when thus rendered harm-
less, the Ermine pursued the rabbits to the bottom of their holes, and
terrified them so that they instantly fled to the entrance and were
taken alive in the hand; and although they sometimes scrambled up
some distance in a hollow tree, their active and persevering little foe
followed them, and instantly forced them down. In this manner the
man procured twelve rabbits alive in the course of one morning, and
more than fifty in about three weeks, when we requested him to de-

Sisk, *

Concerning the Change in Color in the Ermine.

It is eminently proper that a subject which has attracted so much
attention, and occasioned so much controversy, as the seasonal change
in color in this and other species, should receive, in the present con-
nection, the consideration that its importance demands. Audubon
and Bachman, who observed the spring moult in an individual kept
in confinement, give, with much detail, full notes (taken at the time)
concerning the progress and nature of the change, as it advanced
from day to day. The result of their observations is thus stated:
« As far as our observations have enabled us to form an opinion on
this subject, we have arrived at the conclusion, that the animal sheds
its coat twice a year, 7.¢., at the periods when these semi-annual
changes take place. In autumn, the summer hair gradually and almost
imperceptibly drops out, and is succeeded by a fresh coat of hair,
which in the course of two or three weeks becomes pure white; while
in the spring the animal undergoes its change from white to brown

in consequence of shedding its winter coat, the new hairs then coming

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, pp. 177-178.

62 MAMMALIA.

out brown.”* On this point Dr. Coues writes as follows: ‘The
question practically narrows to this: Is the change coincident with
renewal of the coat, or is it independent of this, or may it occur in
both ways? Specimens before me prove the last statement. Some
among them, notably those taken in spring, show the long woolly
white coat of winter in most places, and in others present patches—
generally a streak along the back—of shorter, coarser, thinner hair,
evidently of the new spring coat, wholly dark brown. Other speci-
mens, notably autumnal ones, demonstrate the turning to white of
existing hairs, these being white at the roots for a varying distance,
and tipped with brown. These are simple facts not open to question.
We may safely conclude that if the requisite temperature be ex-
perienced at the periods of renewal of the coat, the new hairs will
come out of the opposite color; if not, they will appear of the same
color, and afterwards change; that is, the change may or may not be
coincident with shedding. That it ordinarily is not so coincident
seems shown by the greater number of specimens in which we ob-
serve white hairs brown-tipped. As Mr. Bell contends, temperature
is the immediate controlling agent. This is amply proven in the fact
that the northern animals always change; that in those from inter-
mediate latitudes the change is incomplete, while those from farther
south do not change at all.” +

Dr. Coues, it will be observed, states, without qualification, that
“temperature is the immediate controlling agent” in this change of
color, and remarks: ‘“ This is amply proven in the fact that the
northern animals always change,’ etc. Now the facts with which I
am familiar lead me to take a very different view of the case, and I
am of opinion that temperature, Aev se, has very little to do, either
with the time of the change, or the fact of the change; and in sup-
port of this view I adduce the following facts—and let it be under-

stood that my observations pertain to the species as found in the

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. II, 1851, pp. 62-63.
} Fur-bearing Animals, 1877, p. 123.

PUTORIUS ERMINEA. 63

Adirondack region only, for I have not seen it elsewhere during the
transition. It has been my experience, and the experience of the
many hunters and trappers that I have consulted on this point (an
experience resulting from the examination of upwards of an hundred
specimens caught at about the time of the first snow) that the Ermine
never assumes the white coat till after the ground is covered with
snow, which is generally late in October or early in November. It
frequently happens that the temperature of the atmosphere is many
degrees lower during the week or ten days preceding the first fall of
snow than at, or immediately subsequent to, the time of its deposi-
tion. Notwithstanding these facts, it is equally true that Ermine
caught up to the very day of the first appearance of snow bear
no evidence of the impending change. Within forty-eight hours,
however, after the occurrence of this snow-storm (provided enough
has fallen to remain and cover the ground; and regardless of the
temperature, which commonly rises several degrees soon after the
storm sets in) the coat of the Ermine has already commenced to
assume a pied and mottled appearance (often symmetrically marked
and strikingly handsome), and the change now commenced pro-
gresses to its termination with great rapidity. In early spring, the
period for the reversal of this process, the changing back from the
white coat of winter to the brown summer coat is determined by the
same cause—the presence or absence of snow.

It may be asked “ what induces the change in individuals kept in
confinement?” My reply is: certaznly not temperature, for it has
taken place when the animal was caged in a warm room, indoors.
The transition is more tardy in confinement than in a state of nature,
and may be coincident with the moult. In any case, we find the ex-
planation of its occurrence in the inevitable influence of hereditary
habit; and it is not rational to suppose that the temporary effect of
different conditions of environment would, in a single season, nullify

a tendency that is the outgrowth of causes that have been operating

for ages to bring about and perpetuate certain fashions for the pro-

64 MAMMALIA.

tection of the species. And this leads us to the consideration of
of an important element in the discussion, to wit, the cause, or causes,
which, acting through a long period of years, resulted in establishing
this seasonal change in color. If the Ermine is the direct descendant
of a dark-colored animal, and was, originally, an inhabitant of the tem-
perate zone, it would have found, upon extending its range northward,
and indeed, wherever snow covers the ground in winter, that its dark
color, by rendering it conspicuous on the white surface, proved a dis-
advantage to it, both in the pursuit of its prey, and in the escape from
its natural enemies. Therefore, by individual variation, and by the
effect of light upon the snow, aided and directed by the laws of nat-
ural selection, it finally got to assume, during the winter season, a
dress that is in harmony with the objects among which it moves—a
garb well adapted for the maintenance and preservation of the species.

Mr. Bell’s theory, that the object of the white color is, by retard-
ing radiation, to increase the amount of heat retained by the animal,
is not only inadequate to account for the facts in the case, but, it
seems to me, arises from straining a point (and an imagination as
well!) to invent an improbable hypothesis for the explanation of a
phenomenon the rationale of which is almost self-evident. The

cause cited must have played the part of a very subordinate factor.

PUTORIUS VISON (Brisson) Gapper.
Mink.

The Mink is a well-known and tolerably abundant inhabitant of
this region, frequenting water-courses, and preying upon muskrats,
rats, mice, birds and their eggs, fish, frogs, turtle’s eggs, cray-fish,
and fresh-water mussels. It occasionally enters the poultry-yard of
the border farmer and thins out his stock of ducks and chickens. It
also feeds upon the rabbit; and on the salt-water marshes of the South
kills great numbers of the clapper rail and the sharp-tailed and sea-
side finches.

PUTORIUS VISON. 65

The Mink is an excellent example of an amphibious mammal, for
it not only swims and dives with facility, but can remain long under
water, and pursues and captures fish by following them under logs or
other places from which there is not a free escape. It has thus been
known to secure as swift and agile a fish as the brook-trout, and Au-
dubon says that he has seen a Mink catch a trout upwards of a foot
in length! It is remarkably strong for so small an animal, and a sin-
gle one has been known to drag a mallard duck more than a mile, in
order to get it to its hole, where its mate joined in the feast.

They are partially nocturnal, and hunt both at night and in broad
daylight, like most of their tribe. I once saw three together on the
banks of the outlet of Seventh Lake, and have many times met them
singly about our water-courses, both in summer and in winter. They
prowl about the lakes after nightfall and devour any fish that have
been left on shore near the camps. .

As an enemy to the farmer, in point of destructiveness in the poul-
try-yard, the Mink ranks next to the Ermine; and I sometimes in-
cline to the opinion that, in the long run, more fowls and ducks are
slain by him than by the last-named animal. He does not, it is true,
make those occasional devastating raids, slaughtering everything that
falls in his way, that constitute a chapter in the life-history of the Er-
mine, but takes one victim at a time, commonly devouring it before
killing another. Still, the wholesale butchery sometimes carried on
by the Ermine occurs at long and irregular intervals, whilst the depre-
dations of the Mink are apt to be more frequent and continuous.
Taking up his abode in, or in proximity to, the poultry-yard, or duck-
pond, he is pretty sure to remain for weeks, helping himself, daily, to
as many birds as his voracious appetite enables him to dispose of,
His small size and partially nocturnal habits tend to conceal his move-
ments, and the daily loss of a fowl is commonly laid at the door of
the skunk, fox, or owl, long before the true marauder is suspected.

I find that many hunters and trappers believe that the Mink does

not make long journeys, but remains in the vicinity of its nest, to

66 MAMMALIA.

which it returns every twenty-four hours or thereabouts. My experi-
ence, in certain cases at least, proves the contrary. On the banks ofa
stream, along which I once had a line of traps, I noticed at intervals
of two or three weeks, the tracks of an unusually large Mink. After
a long while I succeeded in tracking him to an old bridge, in a pas-
ture, and on lifting the planks at one end discovered his nest (or one
of them). It consisted of a mass of dead leaves, a foot or more in
thickness, well lined with feathers. Alongside it were the remains of
a muskrat, a red squirrel, and a downy woodpecker, but the Mink
was not there—he had gone on up the stream. Concealing a good
Newhouse steel trap in the approach to his nest, I replaced the old
planks and went away. This was about the middle of October.
Two weeks passed without any indication of his return, but the time
had arrived when he might be expected to “ happen around” almost
any day. I therefore made daily visits to the stream to search for
his tracks, taking care to avoid the immediate neighborhood of the
bridge. A heavy snow-storm now set in and next morning a foot of
newly fallen snow covered the ground. During this storm the Mink
returned and was caught. He was the largest and handsomest Mink
I have ever seen, and I regret to have lost the record of his dimen-
sions, taken at the time. Some idea, however, of his size and the
quality of his fur may be had from the fact that his pelt sold for four-
teen dollars.

This, and other more or less similar experiences, have convinced
me that the Mink frequently, if not commonly, makes long excursions,
like the Otter, following one water-course and then another, and re-
turning over the same route; and I believe that they have a number
of nests scattered at convenient intervals along these circuits. This
habit may be confined to the old males, but whether it is so or not
remains to be proven.

Concerning its manner and actions when caught we have the fol-
lowing graphic account from the facile pen of Dr. Coues: ‘“‘ One who
has not taken a Mink in a steel trap can scarcely form an idea of the

PUTORIUS VISON. 67

terrible expression the animal’s face assumes as the captor ap-
proaches. It has always struck me as the most nearly diabolical of
anything in animal physiognomy. A sullen stare from the crouched,
motionless form gives way to a new look of surprise and fear, ac-
companied with the most violent contortions of the body, with re-
newed champing of the iron, till breathless, with heaving flanks, and
open mouth dribbling saliva, the animal settles again, and watches
with a look of concentrated hatred, mingled with impotent rage and
frightful despair. . . . As may well be supposed, the creature must
not be incautiously dealt with when in such a frame of mind.” *
When taken sufficiently young he is easily domesticated, and makes
one of the very best of ‘“ratters.” He follows these common pests
into their holes, and destroys large numbers of them. The remainder
are so terrified that they leave the premises in great haste and are not

apt soon to return.

The Mink carries a pair of anal glands that secrete a fluid of an ex-
tremely fetid and disgusting odor. It cannot be ejected to a distance,
like that of the skunk, but is poured out under sexual excitement, and
when the animal is enraged. It is commonly emitted when the beast
is trapped, and sometimes becomes insufferably sickening while re-
moving the skin. It is the most execrable smell with which my nos-
trils have as yet been offended, and is more powerful and offensive in
some individuals than in others—the difference probably depending
upon season and age. In one specimen the fetor was so intolerably
rank and loathsome that I was unable to skin it at one sitting; and I
am free to confess that it is one of the few substances, of animal,
vegetable, or mineral origin, that has, on land or sea, rendered me
aware of the existence of the abominable sensation called zawsea.

The fur of the Mink being valuable, the species has been exten-
sively trapped and is consequently not nearly so abundant here as

formerly. It is prime early in November.

* Fur-Bearing Animals, 1877, p. 176.

68 MAMMALIA.

They rut during the latter part of February or early in March, and
during this season their tracks may be seen everywhere—along
rocky ridges, over high mountains, and in all sorts of places. Dr.
Bachman tells us that at this time the Mink “seems to keep on foot
all day as well as through the whole night,” and says further : “ Hav-
ing for several days in succession observed a number of Minks on
the ice hurrying up and down a mill-pond, where we had not ob-
served any during a whole winter, we took a position near a place
which we had seen them pass, in order to procure some of them.

“We shot six in the course of the morning, and ascertained that
they were all large and old males. As we did not find a single fe-
male in a week, whilst we obtained a great number of males, we
came to the conclusion that the females, during this period, remain
in their burrows.” *

From four to six young constitute an ordinary litter, and they are
brought forth early in May. The nests are in burrows or hollow
logs and are usually: well-lined with feathers, and sometimes, it is
said, with the fur of the female. The young follow the mother till
the fall, and then generally disperse to look out for themselves.

The famous “AZizkery” of Mr. H. Resseque, at Verona, Oneida
County, New York, has afforded rare facilities for the study of the
breeding habits of this species, and from the accounts of it that have
been published in the Fanciers’ Journal and Poultry Exchange, and
Forest and Stream, and summarized by Dr. Coues, I quote the follow-
ing: “At this time [early in March] the males fight desperately, and
if not soon separated one always gets the mastery..... The females
reproduce when one year old. The duration of gestation scarcely
varies twelve hours from six weeks. There is but one litter annually.
The litters run from three to ten in number; the young are born
blind, and remain so for five weeks. When newly born, they are

light-colored, hairless, and about the size and shape of a little finger.

* uadrupeds of North America, yol. I, 1846, p. 258.

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 69

By the time the eyes are open, they are covered with a beautiful
coat of glossy hair. The young females develop sooner than the
males, attaining their stature in ten months, while the males are
not full-grown until they are a year and a half old. It is noted that
in every litter one or the other sex predominates in numbers, there

being rarely half of them males and the other half females.” *
Subfamily MEPHITIN#.
MEPHITIS MEPHITICA (haw) Baird.
Skunk; Polecat,; ‘‘ Alaska Sable.”

The Skunk is very common in the clearings and settled districts
bordering this region, and is found, sparingly, throughout the Adiron-
dacks. |

He preys upon mice, salamanders, frogs, and the eggs of birds that
nest on, or within reach from, the ground. At times he eats carrion,
and if he chances to stumble upon a hen’s nest the eggs are liable to
suffer; and once in a while he acquires the evil habit of robbing the
hen-roost. Still, as a rule, Skunks are not addicted to this vice, and
it is with them very much as it is with dogs and cats; for every now
and then a dog will get into the habit of killing sheep, and a cat of
killing chickens and sucking eggs, and yet we do not wage a warfare
of extermination against them, collectively, on account of the sins of
a few of their number.

Of all our native mammals perhaps no one is so universally abused,
and has so many unpleasant things said about it, as the innocent sub-
ject of the present biography; and yet no other species is half so val-
uable to the farmer. Pre-eminently an insect eater, he destroys more
beetles, grasshoppers, and the like than all our other mammals to-
gether, and in addition to these devours vast numbers of mice.

He is not fond of extensive forests, but seeks the clearings and
pastures that surround the habitations of man, and not infrequently

* Fur-bearing Animals, 1877, pp. 182-183.

70 MAMMALIA.

takes up his abode under one of the outbuildings ; or, retiring to a
neighboring grove, may make his nest under an old stump, or dig a
hole into some wooded knoll or side-hill hard by. Being loath to
intrude the presence of man, he sleeps away the day, and at nightfall
comes forth to wander through the garden, orchard, and meadow, to
prey upon the insects that feast upon the product of man’s toil.

He is of the greatest practical value to the hop-grower, for he fre-
quents the hop-yard with great regularity, and greedily devours the
insect pests that, from their numbers and destructiveness, always in-
jure, and sometimes ruin the crop. Such is the extent and impor-
tance of the services rendered in this direction that, at a recent Ses-
sion of our State Legislature, a bill was introduced for his protection.
Indeed, the benefit that accrues to the farmer from the occupancy of
his premises by a family of these useful animals can hardly be over-
estimated. They are large eaters and subsist almost exclusively upon
his greatest enemies—insects and mice. Of the truth of this assertion
he may easily convince himself by merely taking the trouble to ex-
amine any bit of “ Skunk sign” that he happens to come across; for,
in the summer season, their dejections consist wholly of the indi-
gestible chitenous coverings of beetles, grasshoppers and other in-
sects. The raids that some of their numbers occasionally make upon
his poultry-yard are more than compensated for by the constant and
unremitting services of the entire family in ridding his fields and
garden of the vermin that destroy his crops. In fact, I do not hesitate
to assert that a single Skunk nets the farmer more, in dollars and
cents, each year, than he loses from their depredations during
his entire life-time. And yet so short-sighted is he, that he rarely
lets slip a chance to kill one; and were they more diurnal in habits
their race would doubtless, ere now, be well-nigh exterminated.

Many of our mammals are noted for their beauty and attractive
appearance, but amongst them it would be difficult to find a pret-
. tier beast than the Skunk. He was not built after the most grace-

ful of patterns, to be sure, and it must be acknowledged that his

L

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 7%

snout is strongly suggestive of the pig's; still, his éowt ensemble is
decidedly pleasing. There is nothing obscure in his color or mark-
ings. The handsome black body, the narrow white stripe running up
the forehead, the clear white crown from which a broad band of the
same color commonly extends down the nape, splitting into two as it
passes along the back, contrasting handsomely with the glossy
black of the surrounding fur, and the large, bushy tail, terminating
in a tuft of creamy white, combine to produce an exterior of unusual
attractiveness. His fur is long, thick, and glossy, and makes an ele-
gant centre for a robe. During the past few years prime pelts
(those lacking the white back stripes) have been largely employed in
the manufacture of fine furs, and are sold under the wom de guerre
on Alaska Sable.”

Excepting alone the weasels, the Skunk is the least wary, not only
of the Waustelide, but of all our Carnivores. He is not suspicious,
and may be taken in almost any kind of a device contrived for the
purpose—box-traps, steel-traps, and dead-falls being most commonly
employed in his destruction. To the trapper he often proves a
source of great annoyance, by getting into toils set for the fox and
other more valuable fur.

He does not evince that dread of man that is so manifest in the
vast majority of our mammals, and when met during any of his cir-
cumambulations rarely thinks of running away. On the contrary,
his curiosity is aroused, and he is full as apt to come towards one as
‘to make off in the opposite direction. He is slow in movement and
deliberate in action, and does not often hurry himself in whatever he
does. His ordinary gait is a measured walk, but when pressed for
time he breaks into a low, shuffling gallop. It is hard to intimidate
a Skunk, but when once really frightened he manages to get over
the ground at a very fair pace.

He is an inquisitive beast, and will often take much trouble to ex-
amine anything peculiar about the premises. One evening, while

sitting near the open door of my museum, one came and peeped in

72 MAMMALIA.

at me. As I remained motionless he climbed up and rested his fore-
paws on the threshold, so near that I could easily have reached him
with my hands. After carefully scrutinizing me with his keen,
black eyes, he began to stamp and scold saucily, and then backed
slowly off, keeping his eye on me all the while. Scarcely had he
commenced this quasi-retreat, when he chanced to back into a beech-
tree that stood near by. Evidently thinking that someone had at-
tacked him from the rear (risky business!) he whirled about in a jiffy,
with his tail up and hair on end, growling excitedly, and scampered
away into the bushes.

Skunks are so slow to get out of the way that they are often run
over by vehicles in the evening, and are liable, under such circum-
stances, to perfume the establishment unapproachably. I have had
many such experiences.

When engaged in the nefarious business of plundering the poultry-
yard (an iniquity to which he rarely descends) he makes no provision
for escape, and, in the terse language of Dr. Coues, ‘even after dis-
covery, the Skunk seems to forget the propriety of making off, and
generally falls a victim to his lack of wit.”

Skunks remain active throughout the greater part of the year, in
this region, and hibernate only during the severest portion of the
winter. They differ from most of our hibernating mammals in that
the inactive period is, apparently, dependent solely upon the temper-
ature ; in this respect they resemble the gray squirrel. That the
amount of snow has no influence upon their movements is evident
from the fact that they are frequently out, in numbers, when its
average depth exceeds a metre and a half (a trifle over five feet)
on the level. Neither can it be a difference in food supply that
affects them, for at this season they subsist almost wholly upon mice
and shrews, and I have repeatedly noticed these little beasts scamp-
ering about on the crisp snow when the thermometer indicated a
temperature below —30° C. (-20°F.) With us there is apt to be a
month or six weeks of very cold weather in January or February, and

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 72

during its continuance I have never seen evidence of their presence ;
for it is at such times that they “den up.” The length of time that
they remain in their holes depends entirely upon the duration of the
period of low temperature, and they are always out and active with
the first thaws of March. The occurrence of a thaw, at any time, com-
monly brings them to the surface, but a recurrence of the severe cold
suffices to drive them back to their burrows.

Skunks, particularly when young, make very pretty pets, being
attractive in appearance, gentle in disposition, interesting in manners,
and cleanly in habits—rare qualities indeed! They are playful, some-
times mischievous, and manifest considerable affection for those who
have the care of them. I have had, at different times, ten live
Skunks in confinement. They were all quite young, measuring from
100 to 150 mm. (approximately 4 to 7 in.) only, in length, when first
taken. Some were dug out of their holes, and the rest caught in
box traps. Two were so young that they could walk but a few steps
at a time, and had to be brought up on milk, being fed with a spoon.
The others ate meat and insects from the start. From some of them
I removed the scent bags, but the greater number were left in a state
of nature. None ever emitted any odor, although a couple of them,
when half grown, used to assume a painfully suggestive attitude on
the too-near approach of strangers—so suggestive, indeed, that their
visitors commonly beat a hasty retreat. These same Skunks, when
I came within reach, would climb up my legs and get into my arms.
They liked to be caressed, and never offered to bite. Others that I
have had did not show the aversion for strangers evinced by this
pair, and I believe the difference to be due to the way in which they
are brought up. If accustomed to the presence of a number of peo-
ple they are familiar and friendly toward all; while if kept where they
habitually see but one or two persons they will not permit a stranger
to touch them.

Two summers ago I was the happy master of the cleverest young

Skunk that I have thus far chanced to meet. For a name he receiv-
6

74 MAMMALIA.

ed the title of his genus, and we called him “ Meph.” for short. By
way of precaution I removed his scent sacs, and he made a rapid
and complete recovery, after a few days of temporary indisposition.
While driving about the country, in the performance of professional
duties, he usually slept in my pocket. After supper I commonly took
a walk, and he always followed, close at my heels. If I chanced to
walk too fast for him, he would scold and stamp with his fore-feet,
and if I persisted in keeping too far ahead, would turn about, disgust-
ed, and make offin an opposite direction ; but if I stopped and called
him he would hurry along at a sort of ambling pace, and soon over-
take me. He was particularly fond of ladies, and I think it was the
dress that attracted him; but be this as it may. he would invariably
leave me to follow any lady that chanced to come near. We used
to walk through the woods to a large meadow which abounded in
grasshoppers. Here ‘“ Meph.” would fairly revel in his favorite food,
and it was rich sport to watch his manceuvres. When a grasshopper
jumped he jumped, and I have seen him with as many as three in
his mouth, and two under his fore-paws, at one time! He would eat
so many that his over-distended little belly actually dragged upon the
ground, and when so full that he could hold no more, would still catch
and slay them. When so small that he could scarcely toddle about he
never hesitated to tackle the large and powerful beetle known as the
“horned bug,’ and got many smart nips for his audacity. But he
was a courageous little fellow and it was not long before he learned
to handle them with impunity, and it was very amusing to see him
kill one. Ere many weeks he ventured to attack a mouse, and the
ferocity displayed in its destruction was truly astonishing. He de-
voured the entire body of his victim, and growled and stamped his
feet if anyone came near before the repast was over.

His nest was in a box near the foot of the stairs, and before he
grew strong enough to climb out by himself he would, whenever he
heard me coming, stand on his hind legs with his paws resting on the
edge of the box, and beg to be carried up-stairs. If I passed by

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 75

without appearing to notice him he invariably became much enraged
and chippered and scolded away at a great rate, stamping, meanwhile,
most vehemently. He always liked to be carried up to my office,
and as soon as strong enough, would climb up of his own accord.
He was very sprightly and frolicsome, and used to hop about the
floor and run from room to room in search of something to play with,
and frequently amused himself by attempting to demolish my slip-
pers. I have often given him a bit of old sponge, with a string
attached, in order to keep him out of mischief. During the evening
he occasionally assumed a cunning mood, and would steal softly up
to my chair, and standing erect would claw at my pants once or
twice, and then scamper off as fast as his little legs could carry him,
evidently anxious to have me give chase. If I refused to follow, he
was soon back, ready to try a new scheme to attract my attention.

I have heard many persons, who reside in the country, say that
they had never seen a live Skunk. This must be because they are
not much in the fields and groves at dawn of day, or dusk of evening,
for at these times they are frequently seen. The farmer's boy, in
going after his cows early every morning, meets plenty of them.

Skunks have large families, from six to ten young being commonly
raised each season; and asa rule they all live in the same hole till
the following spring. A steel trap, set at the mouth of this hole, will
often capture the entire family, at the rate of one per night. In win-
ter half a dozen or more may sometimes be taken in a single night,
in the following manner: the hunter treads a narrow path in the
snow, leading from the mouth of the hole away in the direction of
some favorite resort and, at intervals along this path, the traps are
set in the snow. At nightfall, when the Skunks come out, they
march, single file, down the path, the mother usually taking the lead.
The head one is generally caught in the first trap, and the others
climb over the resulting obstruction and move on till a second is
taken, and a third, and so on.

76 MAMMALIA.

The flesh of the Skunk is white, tender and sweet, and is delicious
eating. It is not unlike chicken, but is more delicate, and its taste is
particularly agreeable. Being, happily, free from any of that “ squeam-
ishness” which Audubon and Bachman lament as preventing them
from tasting the meat of this animal, I am able to speak on this point
from ample personal experience—having eaten its flesh cooked in a
variety of ways, boiled, broiled, roasted, fried, and fricasseed—and
am prepared to assert that a more “ toothsome bit” than a broiled
Skunk is hard to get, and rarely finds its way to the table of the epi-
cure.

The fore-feet of the Skunk are provided with long claws, which he
employs in excavating his burrows and in digging after mice, which
latter occupation consumes a large share of his time. He is also
armed with a fine set of sharp teeth, that are capable of inflicting
severe wounds; still, his chief weapon of defence lies in the secretion
of a pair of anal glands, that lie on either side of the rectum,
and are imbedded in a dense, gizzard-like mass of muscle which
serves to compress them so forcibly that the contained fluid may
be ejected to the distance of four or five metres (approximately
13 to 162 feet). Each sac is furnished with a single duct that
leads into a prominent nipple-like papilla that is capable of being
protruded from the anus, and by means of which the direction
of the jet is governed. The secretion is a clear limpid fluid of an
amber or golden yellow color, has an intensely acid reaction, and, in
the evening, is slightly luminous. On standing, in a bottle, a floccu-
lent, whitish precipitate separates and falls to the bottom. The fluid
sometimes shows a decided greenish cast, and it always possesses
an odor that is characteristic, and in some respects unique. Its
all-pervading, penetrating, and lasting properties are too well known
to require more than passing comment. I have known the scent
to become strikingly apparent in every part of a well-closed house,
in winter, within five minutes’ time after a Skunk had been killed
at a distance of an hundred metres (about twenty rods)! The

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA 1M)

odor generally remains noticeable for weeks, and sometimes for
months, about the place where one has been killed. The condition
of the atmosphere has much to do in determining this matter, for the
more humid the air and the higher the temperature, the farther is the
scent discernible, and the longer does it last. Under favorable con-
ditions it is certainly distinctly recognizable at the distance of a mile,
and DeKay quotes a statement from the Medical Repository that
a Dr. Wiley, of Block Island, “ distinctly perceived the smell of a
Skunk, although the nearest land was twenty miles distant”! *

There is a marked difference in the intensity of the scent in dif-
ferent Skunks, and I am persuaded that it is due, chiefly, to the age of
the animal whence it emanates. It is not impossible that there may
also be a difference due to the length of time that the secretion has
been retained, 7. ¢., that it is not so rank and overpowering when
recently secreted as when there has been no discharge for some time—
when it seems to have become concentrated.

When recently ejected the fumes from this liquid are overpower-
ingly pungent, and extremely irritating to the air passages; and, I
have no doubt, are as capable of producing cedema of the glottis as
the fumes from stronger ammonia. When inhaled without the ad-
mixture of a large amount of atmospheric air the unhappy victim
loses consciousness and breathes stertorously, the temperature falls
and the pulse slackens, and if the inhalation were prolonged the re-

sult would doubtless prove fatal.+

* Zoology of New York, Mammals, 1842, p. 30.

+ In connection with the foregoing remarks, I introduce the following clipping, which has gone
the rounds of the Medical press :

*“SKUNK PERFUME AS AN ANESTHETIC.—Dr. W. B. Conway (Virginia Medical Monthly, August,
1881) reports a case where roguish school-boys caused one of their number to inhale from a two-
ounce phial an unknown quantity of Skunk perfume. The effects produced were total unconscious-
ness, muscular relaxation, a temperature of 94 and pulse of 65, together with cool extremities. The
respiration and pupils were normal. The patient soon recovered under hot pediluvia and stimu-
lants. The Skunk perfume is rather an unpleasant substance to experiment with, still, those en-
dowed with anosmia might obtain results of value from similar experiments with it.”’

’

Dr, Conway (of Blacksburg, Va.) further stated that the patient ‘‘ remained for one hour”’ in a

, ce

state of *‘ total unconsciousness.’
whiskey at short intervals,” having
finally aroused, suffering no inconvenience from its effects except a slight headache, which passed
off after a good night’s sleep.” (Virg. Med. Month., Vol. VIII, No. 5, Aug., 1881, pp. 359-360.)

During that time the Doctor

“

administered small quantities of
“some difficulty in getting him to swallow. . . . He was

78 MAMMALIA.

The evidence is pretty conclusive that the peculiar substance under
consideration is an efficacious remedy in certain spasmodic affections
of the air passages, such as asthma, hooping-cough, and spasmodic
croup. It certainly deserves more extended trial, but, unfortunately,
its offensive odor is a practical bar to its general employment. Still,
to my nostrils, it is not half so disagreeable as many less whole-
some smells. It is powerful, pungent, and penetrating, to be sure,
but is not one-tenth part so disgustingly nauseating as the secretion
from the corresponding glands of many other members of the JZus-
telide, and particularly of the mink and weasel.

If any of this acrid liquid finds its way into the eye it produces in-
tense pain and sets up an acute conjunctivitis, which commonly runs
its course in a week or ten days. I have myself met with this mis-
fortune, but suffered no permanent injury therefrom. However, we
have reliable accounts of the entire loss of vision from this cause,
and it is reasonable to suppose that attendant circumstances would
have much to do with the result.

The scent glands of the Skunk may be removed, bodily, without
in any way affecting the health or happiness of the animal.
The gizzard-like mass of muscle in which they are imbedded com-
pletely surrounds the gut, just at the outlet of the pelvis, and is
attached to the tuberosities of the ischium. The chief danger
attending the operation is the liability of wounding the rectum,
or of creating so much irritation about it that the subsequent in-
flammation and cicatrization will result in stricture of that important
viscus. Care must also be exercised in order to avoid wounding the
genito-urinary passages. I have operated, with complete success, both
with and without antiseptic precautions. A much simpler operation,
where the end in view is merely to disarm the animal, is that per-
formed by Dr. J. M. Warren, of Boston, in the year 1849.* It consists
in making an incision through the skin, directly in front of the anus,
and in snipping the ducts of the glands, at the bases of the nipple-like

* ** Proceed. Bost. Soc. Nat. Hist., vol. III, p. 175, 1849.”

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 79

papillze which project into the gut, just within the sphincter. Adhe-
sive inflammation follows and permanently occludes the ducts at the
points of division. Therefore, although the glands themselves are
left in situ, the animal is, forever after, incapable of ridding himself
of their contents.

The Skunk is a sort of “little lord” of the domain over which he
roams, for there are few enemies, save short-sighted man, that care
to dispute his right of way. It is true that the wolf, fox, and great-
horned owl occasionally dine upon his tender flesh, but the details of
the struggle, inevitable to his capture, are not altogether pleasant;
hence he is not often interfered with, and becomes as bold as he is
abundant. Concerning his confidence in the efficacy of his over-
powering weapon, and the effect of this assurance upon his disposi-
tion and habits, Dr. Coues makes the following pertinent remarks—
condensing into one brief sentence thoughts that suggest whole chap-
ters in the history of this interesting animal : “ Its heedless familiarity,
its temerity in pushing into places which other animals avoid as dan-
gerous, and its indisposition to seek safety by hasty retreat, are evi-
dent results of its confidence in the extraordinary means of defence
with which it is provided.” And further on observes: “the abun-
dance of the animal in most parts of the country, and its audacity in
the face of danger, show that its confidence in the singular means of
defence it possesses is not misplaced.”*

Dr. Coues expresses the belief in which I cannot concur, that the
scent of the Skunk is not only used as a means of defence, but also
serves as a means or bringing these animals together—that they are
attracted to one another by it—and goes on to say: “ Burrows are
sometimes found to contain as many as a dozen individuals, not mem-
bers of one family, but various adult animals drawn together.” Now,
as previously stated, the Skunk is a very prolific animal, commonly
bringing forth from six to ten at a birth, and these young, with their

parents, remain in one hole for the ensuing year. Before the expira-

* Loe. cit. p. 255:

80 MAMMALIA.

tion of this period the young Skunks have grown up and several of
them, at least, have attained the full dimensions of their parents, so
that it is impossible to distinguish between them except by a careful
examination of their teeth and claws; and even these means some-
times fail, as when the parents themselves are but a year older than
their offspring, and nothing short of a comparison of their skulls af-
fords positive evidence of their ages. I have dwelt thus at length
on this point in order to show how easy it is to be mistaken in the
ages of Skunks after the first six or eight months, so rapidly do they
attain their growth; and I| have yet to see satisfactory evidence that
more than two adult Skunks have been found in the same hole at

any one time.

How to Kill a Skunk.

When we bear in mind that thousands of Skunks are slain each
year for their fur, it is indeed surprising that so few hunters, trap-
pers, and naturalists should know how to kill them, without provok-
ing a discharge from their scent reservoirs. And yet there is a
method, safe, sure, and simple, by which they may be killed without
the emission of a single drop of the much dreaded secretion. This
method depends upon the well-known physiological fact that an in-
jury to the spinal cord produces immediate paralysis or loss of
power of the muscles supplied by the nerves that are given off below
the point of injury. Hence, loss of control over the posterior ex-
tremities (a condition technically known as faraplegia) may be pro-
duced, in any mammal, by a blow across the back that is sufficiently
forcible to destroy the integrity of the cord opposite the injured point.
The back must generally be broken to insure this result.

Therefore, to kill a Skunk without permitting the evacuation of
its peculiar perfume, it is only necessary to deal it a smart rap across
the back. If the animal is in a trap he should be approached slowly
and cautiously, for, under these circumstances it is prudent not to be

in too much ofa hurry, and to avoid making sudden moves. If you go

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. Sr

too fast he will elevate his tail, present his rear, and assume an un-
comfortably suspicious attitude. Give him a little time and he will
about-face and peer at you again with his little keen black eyes.
Now advance a little nearer and be sure of your aim; and when you
strike, stvzke hard. The main thing is to keep cool and not strike
too soon. On receiving the blow his hinder parts settle helplessly
upon the ground, and the tail, which was carried high over the back,
now straightens out behind, limp and powerless. As a rule the
head soon droops and the animal expires. If he does not die directly
he is easily dispatched, being effectually disarmed. The common
causes of failure, in this mode of killing, are two: Ist, in using too
long a pole, and consequently striking when so far off that the beast
has time to jump forward (in attempting to dodge the blow) and is
hit too far aft—often on the tail; and 2d, in not striking hard enough
to break the back. When properly done this method never fails, and
it is the safest, surest, and simplest way to kill a Skunk without oc-
casioning a discharge from his battery. I speak with some confi-
dence on this point, having myself killed upwards of an hundred
Skunks in the manner above recommended. Out of this number
were six failures, due to the causes above specified.

It has been asserted, on high authority, that if the Skunk is shot
in a vital part he will die without discharging his scent. This is an
error, as | have demonstrated repeatedly to my entire satisfaction.
I have put the muzzle of my double-barrelled shot-gun within a foot
from the head of a Skunk, that was in a steel-trap, and literally blown
his whole head off; under similar circumstances have I tried the ef-
fect of both shot and ball upon his heart and lungs; and further, on
one occasion, I severed the head from the body with one blow from
a sharp axe, and in each instance was the death struggle accompanied
by a discharge of the scent. These remarks may seem to conflict
with the writings of Audubon and Bachman, who state : “We had
one of their burrows opened to within a foot of the extremity, where

the animals were huddled together. Placing ourselves a few yards

82 MAMMALIA.

off, we suffered them successively to come out. As they slowly
emerged and were walking off, they were killed with coarse shot
aimed at the shoulders. In the course of half an hour, seven (the
number contained in the burrow) were obtained; one only was offen-
sive, and we were enabled without inconvenience to prepare six of

them for specimens.”* But it is explicitly mentioned that “they
were killed with coarse shot aimed at the shoulders,” and this fact
explains why six out of seven did not smell, for some of the shot
doubtless hit the cord.

Skunks caught in dead-falls rarely ever emit scent, and for the
simple reason that their backs are broken and their hinder parts
paralyzed.

A veteran fox-trapper, Mr. C. L. Whitman, of Weston, Vermont,
rids his traps of Skunks by slipping a wire noose over their heads
and choking them to death. He claims that they rarely smell when
thus dealt with.+

When caught in the vicinity of water, they are easily drowned, and

when so treated never smell.

SOME COMMON FALLACIES CONCERNING SKUNKS.
tst. What the Scent zs.

It was for many years believed, even amongst naturalists, that the
scent of the Skunk was its urine, and this belief is still widely prev-
alent with the masses of our population. The urine of the Skunk
has no offensive or even characteristic odor, the scent being the
secretion of a pair of highly developed and specialized anal glands,
which have already been sufficiently described. (See p. 76.)

2d. How it ts Scattered.
The vulgar notion that the Skunk scatters its scent with its tail

was formerly so universal and wide spread that no less renowned a

* Quadrupeds of North America, vol. I, 1846, p. 324.
+ Forest and Stream, Feb. 17, 1876. Quoted by Coues in Fur-bearing Animals, 1877, p. 217.

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 83

zoologist than the accurate and sagacious Dr. Richard Harlan was
(mis-) led to write that these animals emit, “ particularly when dis-
turbed, a most nauseous, detestable odor, proceeding from the liquor
of the anal glands, which they mix with the urine; with this fluid
they wet the tail, and scatter it to a considerable distance.”"* No
statement could have less foundation in fact. The Skunk is a very
cleanly beast, and, when about to discharge his scent, arches his tail
high over his back so that it may not be defiled by the fluid. The
scent is thrown by the contraction of the thick muscular tunic in

which the glands are imbedded.

3a. When do they part with it ?

It is commonly believed, by the community at large, that a Skunk
is always ready to spatter anyone that chances to come within range.
Nothing could be wider from the truth. A Skunk generally waits till
he is hurt before discharging his battery, and I have more than once
seen a dog get fairly hold of the beast before the emission occurred.
Indeed, I have never known one to eject a single drop of. the
precious fluid except when hard pressed and very much excited—
and it takes considerable to excite an adult Skunk. When caught
in steel traps not more than one in twenty will smell, and the re-
maining nineteen suffer themselves to be tormented to an astonish-
ing degree before “ opening the valve.” One may, with considera-
ble confidence, approach one when ina trap, take hold of the chain;
and drag the trap and contents to any convenient place, provided he
goes slowly and makes no sudden move. Never but once has my
confidence been betrayed while thus engaged. It was when at-
tempting to drag a young Skunk out of its hole, into which it had
retreated with the trap; and I was well sprinkled in the operation.
These unsophisticated juveniles, when harassed, get excited far
more easily than their parents, and sometimes “ squirt” upon in-
sufficient provocation.

* Fauna Americana, 1825, p. 69.

8 4 MAMMALIA.

It is supposed by many that the Skunk empties his scent sacs at
other times than during the excitement of danger; that it is done to
attract the opposite sex, or for practice, or for some other reason
than the annoyance of his enemy. This is contrary to my expe-
rience, and is also, I believe, at variance with the facts of the case,

so far as known.

4th. Does one Discharge empty the Sacs ?

It is frequently asserted, by those having little or no personal
acquaintance with these animals, that the Skunk completely empties
his scent reservoirs at the first discharge, and becomes, immediately
thereafter, “as harmless as a cat.” To such as entertain this opinion
I extend a cordial invitation to accompany me to the presence of a
Skunk, whom I will provoke to make several distinct and separate
discharges, and will then step aside and be pleased to see them pick

up the “ harmless ” animal!

5th. When held by the Tail, what ?

I have been told, and have likewise seen the statement in print,
that a Skunk, when held up by the tail, cannot eject his scent.

Having in early childhood been the unhappy victim to a suff-
ciently satisfactory demonstration to the contrary, I will relate the
result of a somewhat humiliating experience, for the benefit of those
who are in doubt on this point. It was in the fall of the year,
and a light snow enabled me to track a Skunk to his hole in
the woods, where I set a box trap, baited with meat. Next morning
I found the trap sprung, but, hearing no noise within, opened the lid.
Before I had time to see what was there my little dog rushed in, and
as I reached out my arm to pull him back, I somehow got hold of
the Skunk’s tail by mistake. My chin dropped with astonishment
as I held the affrighted beast up before me, and the dog seized him
by the head. Scarce had I realized the peril of the situation when I
was blinded and stifled by the terrible discharge, which hit me full in

MEPHITIS MEPHITICA. 85

the face, entering my gaping mouth and one of my eyes. Nearly
suffocated by the overpowering stench, and screaming with pain, I
rushed into the house, where, in the efforts to wash the fluid from
my eye, my head was crowded into a pail of water, and I was well
nigh drowned, I had read that a single drop of the secretion was
sufficient to produce total blindness, and consequently expected
nothing less than to lose the sight in this eye. The resulting inflam-

mation, however, subsided in about a week, leaving no ill effect.*

6th. Skunk Bites and Hydrophobza.

Under this head I take the liberty to reproduce an article that I
wrote for Forest and Stream in July, 1880:

“Ever since the Rev. Horace G. Hovey, M.A., took it upon
himself to notify the civilized world (through the medium of the
American Fournal of Science and Arts for May, 1874, pp. 477-483)
of the terrible consequences attending the bite of our common
Skunk (Adephit?s mephitica), the columns of your valuable paper, to-
gether with those of various other publications, have been much of
the time pregnant with more or less extended remarks upon the
subject.

“The Rev. Mr. Hovey announced that the bite of the Skunk was
usually fatal, and produces in the human subject a peculiar kind of
hydrophobia, which he named Radzes Mephitica. Inthe New York
Medical Record for March 13, 1875, Dr. John S. Janeway, U. S. A.,
proves that the disease is nothing more nor less than ordinary
hydrophobiaas derived from the dog, cat, or other rabid animal.

“Dr, Elliott Coues deems the subject of sufficient importance to
reproduce both articles (Rev. Hovey’s and Dr. Janeway’s), but

* Since penning the above I have again had the misfortune to get a charge of this fluid into one
of my eyes. It was due to carelessness on my part, and occurred August Io, 1882, while removing
the scent glands from a young Skunk. The contents of one of the sacs was suddenly and unex-
pectedly discharged, striking me full in the right eye. For a time the pain was intense, but I
immediately and thoroughly washed out the fluid by pumping water into the open eye, and the
conjunctival congestion that ensued subsided in a few hours. But in this case the fluid was not
nearly so strong and irritating as that from the adult animal.

86 MAMMALIA.

unfortunately without comment, in his most admirable and valuable
monograph of our Fur-bearing Animals (pp. 223-235).

“ Dr. Janeway states that the disease ‘is evidently epidemical, no
cases of it having been reported previous to 1870 in this region,’
which is unquestionably the fact.

‘““ Now it strikes me that there is a good deal of first-class ‘ poppy-
cock’ in the Rev. Mr. Hovey’s article, and in most of the contribu-
tions that have appeared since ;

“Let us take a rational view of the case, and glance, for a mo-
ment, at the history of an average outbreak of hydrophobia. Here
is a rabid dog. Before succumbing to the disease, or to the hand of
man, he has probably bitten at least one or two other dogs or cats,
which in their turn bite others, and so on, till the community be-
comes aroused; and scarcely enough of these animals are left to pro-
pagate their kind.

‘““ Now, suppose a ‘mad dog’ should, in his wild delirium, chance
to run across and bite a Skunk, and in a region where Skunks hap-
pened to abound, would not the natural result be that this Skunk
would bite others and so communicate the disease to them, and they
to others still, and so on till most of the Skunks of that neighbor-
hood had been infected? During a certain stage of the disease,
should any of these hydrophobic Skunks, by any accident fall in
with a man sleeping on the ground, that man would certainly be very
liable to be bitten, and if bitten, to die of this terrible malady. Ex-
actly such a state of things, apparently, came to the notice of Mr.
Hovey, who published the facts in the American Fournal of Science
and Arts, as above stated. But instead of confining his remarks to
a simple, truthful narration of facts, he indulges in the wildest spec-
ulations and empty theories concerning the fatal nature of Skunk
bites in the abstract.

“To suggest, as does the Rev. Hovey, that the bite of a healthy
Skunk is followed by hydrophobia is, to speak mildly, the height of

irrational nonsense. Equally insane is his idea that Skunks, in the

LUTRA CANADENSIS. 87

normal state, are aggressive animals and habitually bite those persons
whom they find sleeping upon the ground. Indeed nothing could be
more contrary to the known habits and disposition of these beautiful
and useful little animals.

“As to the effect of Skunk bites in general I will only state my
experience. Twelve or fifteen years ago, when hunting and trapping
Skunks, I was twice bitten by adult animals and never suffered there-
from more than from equally severe bites from any other of our com-
mon mammals. About the same time Dr. C. L. Bagg was also bit-
ten, but nevertheless he still lives and is practising medicine in New
York City. Last summer I was again bitten by a Skunk—this time
by a half-grown one that I had alive for several months—and have
as yet experienced no evil consequences from the bite.|*] Our dogs

have many times been bitten, and were never seriously injured

thereby.’ +
Subfamily LUTRIN2.

LUTRA CANADENSIS Turton.
Otter.

The Otter is a common inhabitant of the Adirondacks and, from
the nature of its habits, and its sagacity, is likely to remain after most
of the other representatives of the Mustelida have been exterminated.
It is thoroughly amphibious, making long journeys through the
forest, and swimming the lakes and rivers. It can remain under water
almost as long as a Loon, and I have known one to swim nearly a
quarter of a mile without showing its head above the surface. Its
food consists chiefly of various species of fish, and the lobster-like
fresh water Decapod called the cray-fish, When unable to procure

these in sufficient quantity it devours frogs, and is said to depopulate

* While these pages have been passing through the press I have again been bitten by a half-
grown Skunk. The bite was inflicted upon the end of my left thumb, and healed kindly in the
course of three or four days, leaving no scar.

+ Forest and Stream, Vol. XVI, No. 24, p. 473, July 14, 188r.

88 MAMMALIA.

the poultry-yard, and even to prey upon young lambs. It can dive
and swim under water with such speed and agility, that it can
overtake and secure, with great ease and certainty, almost any of
our fresh-water fishes. In confinement it will eat meat, and is said
to prefer it boiled. The number of cray-fish (Camdarus) that the
Otter destroys in the course of a summer is almost incredible.
The Otter “sign” that one finds so abundantly about our lakes
and streams, on rocks and logs, often consists wholly of fragments of
the chitenous exoskeleton of this Crustacean. At other times fish
bones are mingled with the broken cray-fish shells. Otters are
restless creatures, always on the move, and are constantly roam-
ing about from lake to lake, and river to river. They sometimes
go from place to place ‘just as it happens,” so to speak; while
at other times they travel in definite routes, following one water
course for a number of days or weeks, and returning by another.
For example: an Otter will start from, say, Seventh Lake, and work
down the Fulton Chain to Moose River, down Moose to Black River,
and down this to the mouth of Independence or Beaver River; thence,
turning up stream, it finds its way back along either of these rivers,
perhaps stopping to fish in adjacent lakes on the way up, and finally
crossing to Big Moose and thence back to the Fulton Chain. Or,
starting from the same point, an Otter may leave the Fulton Chain
near the foot of Fourth Lake, cross to North Branch of Moose River,
thence to Big Moose, visiting the Saffords and West Pond on the
way. From Big Moose it may work up into the big marsh and over
to First and Second Gull Ponds, cross to Lake Terror and follow its
outlet through Rose Pond to Beaver River, and down the latter to
Black River, making the return trip up Independence to Big Moose,
and across, by way of Constable Pond, May’s Lake, and Queer Lake,
to the Fulton Chain; or it may follow up Moose River directly to
the Fulton Chain. These routes are not mere creations of my 1m-
agination, but have in great measure been verified by hunters who
have followed their tracks on the snow. Otters travel great distances

LUTRA CANADENSIS. 89

in winter, and go so fast that a man has great difficulty in overtaking
them. On the ice they proceed by a series of what small boys call
‘a run and a slide,” that is, they make several jumps and then slide
ahead, flat on their bellies, as far as their impetus and the smooth-
ness of the ice permit, and then do the same thing over again, and
so on. And this mode of progression suggests a curious trait in the
character of the Otter, 7. ¢., its fondness for sliding down hill. Dr.
John D. Godman, in his well-known work on “ American Natural
History,’ speaks thus of the habit: ‘“ Their favorite sport is sliding,
and for this purpose in winter the highest ridge of snow is selected,
to the top of which the Otters scramble, where, lying on the belly
with the fore-feet bent backwards, they give themselves an impulse
with their hind legs and swiftly glide head-foremost down the decliv-
ity, sometimes for a distance of twenty yards. ‘This sport they con-
tinue apparently with the keenest enjoyment until fatigue or hunger
‘induces them to desist.” This statement accords with the observa-
tions of Cartwright, Hearne, Richardson, Audubon, and others, and
the last-named author goes on to say that he once witnessed a pair
of Otters engaged in this pastime, only they were sliding down a
mud-bank instead of a snow-bank, and remarks: ‘‘ we counted each
one making twenty-two slides before we disturbed their sportive
occupation.” * The borders of the lakes and streams of the Adiron-
dacks afford numerous examples of these slides, and also of their
wallowing places, which are either level beds, or slight depressions,
in which they play and roll. May's Lake, a small and secluded body
of water, abounding in trout, is fairly surrounded by them.

On the morning of October 27, 1881, the Big Marsh at the head
of Big Moose Lake was frozen over, with the exception of a narrow
strip along its north shore. While working our boat up between the
ice and the shore E. L. Sheppard and I noticed three Otters sporting
in the open water ahead. They were diving and chasing one another

after the manner of so many seals. Several times did they jump so

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. II, 1851, p. 8.

~T

90 MAMMALIA,

high that more than half the length of their bodies showed above the
water. On firing at one of them all instantly disappeared; one stuck
his head up through a hole in the ice to take a parting peep at us,
and this was the last we saw of them. Otters are playful creatures
and when taken young are easily domesticated, and have frequently
been taught to catch fish for their masters. In growing old, however,
they are apt to become ugly, and have been known to bite those who
attempted to play with them. Att all times and on all occasions they
manifest an insatiate and uncontrollable desire to break the peace
with any dog that chances to cross their path—and woe be to the
unfortunate brute! Being compactly built and possessing great
strength, and an immense store of endurance, they are quick in move-
ment and make fierce and powerful assailants. Moreover, there is
usually such a thick layer of fat under the skin that it slips freely upon
the body and renders it well-nigh impossible for a dog to secure a
firm hold on them. If the misunderstanding occurs in the vicinity of
water, as it commonly does, there is a strong tendency for the partici-
pants to drift nearer and nearer the shore, for thitherward the Otter
artfully draws his antagonist. I have never witnessed one of these
little altercations, but am told that a drowned dog is generally the
result.

Thomas Pennant, in his ‘‘ Synopsis of Quadrupeds,” published in
1771, says (p. 239) that the Otter “ hunts its prey against the stream;
frequents not only fresh waters, but sometimes preys in the sea; but
not remote from shore: is a fierce animal; its bite hard and dangerous:
is capable of being tamed, to follow its master like a dog, and even
to fish for him, and return with its prey.”

The fur of the Otter, which is more valuable than that of any other
of our fur bearing animals, becomes prime in November, remains
good throughout the winter, and is best in spring.

Their skins were formerly much employed by the Indians as
material for their garments. In ‘ Wassenaers Historie Van Eu-

ropa,” printed at Amsterdam, 1621-32, occurs the following :. “‘ The

PROCYON LOTOR. QI

Tribes are in the habit of clothing themselves with them; the fur or
hair inside, the smooth side without, which, however, they paint so
beautifully that, at a distance, it resembles lace. It is the opinion that
they make use of the best for that purpose; what has poor fur they
deem unsuitable for their clothing. When they bring their commodi-
ties to the Traders, and find they are desirous to buy them, they make
so very little matter of it, that they at once rip up the skins they are
clothed with and sell them as being the best.” *

The nest of the Otter is generally placed under some shelving bank
or uprooted tree, and has been found in a hollow stub. The young
are commonly brought forth about the middle of April, and two (rare-
ly one or three) constitute a litter. Three Otters, the female with

her two young, are usually seen together during the summer and fall.

Family PROCYONID.

PROCYON LOFTOR (Linn.) Storer.

Raccoon.

Raccoons are common everywhere about the borders of the Adiron-
dacks, but they do not like dense evergreen forests and are therefore
rather rare in the interior; still, they are occasionally met with in all
parts of the Wilderness.

They are omnivorous beasts and feed upon mice, young birds,
birds’ eggs, turtles and their eggs, frogs, fish, cray-fish, mollusks,
insects, nuts, fruits, corn, and sometimes poultry.

Excepting alone the bats and flying-squirrels, they are the most
strictly nocturnal of all our mammals, and yet I have several times
seen them abroad during cloudy days. They like to play in shallow
water, along the banks of ponds and streams, and find much of their
food in these places. They overturn stones and catch the cray-fish
that lurk beneath, and also gather the fresh-water mussels (U/xzo and

Anodon) that live on sandy and muddy bottoms. They also catch

* Translated in The Documentary Hist. of the State of New York, Vol. III, 1850, p. 36.

92 MAMMALIA.

and devour the hapless fish that chance to get detained in any of the
little pools along shore; but are unable to dive and pursue their prey
under water, like the Otter and Mink. They are good swimmers
and do not hesitate to cross rivers that lie in their path.

Although excellent climbers, making their nests in a hollow, high
up in some large tree, they cannot be said to be arboreal in
habits. They do not pursue their prey amongst the tree tops, after
the manner of the martens, nor make a practice of gathering nuts
’ from the branches, like squirrels; nor do they, like the porcupine,
browse upon the green foliage. Trees constitute the homes in which *
they rest and bring forth their young, and to which they retreat
when pursued by man or beast; but their business is transacted else-
where. At nightfall they descend to the ground to prowl through
groves, fields, and swamps, and follow streams and lake shores in
search of food.

Their fondness for fresh corn has brought many a luckless ‘Coon
to an untimely end, for ‘“’Coon hunting, by the light of the harvest
moon,” has long been a favorite sport. The method of procedure is
simple : several men, with dogs, meet together, generally about mid-
night, near some maize field which is known to be frequented by
these animals. Ifa Raccoon happens to be present he is soon treed
by the dogs, and is either shot, or the tree upon which he hides is
felled and he is destroyed by the dogs. An old ‘Coon is a tough
match for an average dog, and many a plucky cur bears lasting
scars of their sharp teeth. The ‘Coon first invades the corn fields
while the tender kernels, not yet full grown, consist of a soft
milky pulp, and he continues to feast upon the maize till fully
ripe, and even after it is cut and stacked. He is very expert in
breaking down the stalks and stripping the husks from the ear,
using his fore-paws as we do our hands.

Raccoons are clever beasts, and in certain directions their cun-
ning surpasses that of the fox. The familiar epithet, “a sly

‘Coon,” owes its origin to certain of their proclivities. Still they

PROCYON LOTOR. >
93

do not exercise their cunning for self-preservation; they are not
sufficiently suspicious of unusual objects,and are easily taken in
almost any kind of atrap. They are not swift runners and if pursued
take to a tree and are readily killed.

They make, when taken young, intelligent and interesting pets,
being easily tamed, and evincing considerable affection for their
master. But they cannot be allowed their liberty, like tame
skunks, because of their innate propensity for mischief. If not
closely watched they will slyly enter the house through some
open door or window, and are liable to do considerable damage, for
their natural curiosity prompts them to examine everything within
reach, and anything out of reach of a ‘Coon must be inaccessible
indeed. They invariably manifest an insatiate desire to in-
vestigate the pantry shelves, and rarely negiect to taste every
edible thing that happens to be there. They have a special
penchant for sweetmeats and greedily devour preserves, honey,
molasses, sugar, pies and cakes; and even bread, butter, lard, milk
etc., are by no means disregarded. ‘They remove the covers from
jars and pails, and uncork bottles, with as much ease and facility,
apparently, as if they had been instructed in this art from earliest in-
fancy. Doors that latch, as they do in most old country houses,
are soon opened, even by unsophisticated ‘Coons, and it takes them
but a short time to acquire the method of opening knob doors. Their
fore paws are employed as hands, and can be put to almost as great
a variety of uses as those of the monkey—which animal they further
resemble in the propensity for mischief-making.

The Raccoon hibernates during the severest part of the winter,
retiring to his nest rather early, and appearing again in February or
March, according to the earliness or lateness of the season. Dislik-
ing to wade through deep snow he does not come out much till the
alternate thawing and freezing of the surface, suggestive of coming
spring, makes a crust upon which he can run with ease. He does

not usually walk many miles during a single night, and consequently

AMM¢ sili,
94 MAMMALIA

is soon tracked to the tree, in some hole of which he has retired for
the day. If the tree is too large to be easily felled, a trap set at its
foot, and baited with a bit of toasted cod-fish or an ear of corn, is
pretty sure to secure him before the next morning.

It is unusual to find a Raccoon alone, for they commonly live and
travel in small companies, consisting of the several members of a
single family. They do not return to the same nest every morning,
but often make little excursions in various directions, being gone
several days at a time, and taking refuge, about daylight, in any
convenient aboreal shelter. Though preferring a hollow limb high
up on some giant elm, ash, or basswood, they will put up with almost
any kind of a hollow trunk. I have known them to spend the day
in old stubs, in hollow logs, and even in the poor shelter afforded by
the angle where a falling tree had lodged in a crotch.

In tracking Raccoons upon the crust I have sometimes observed a
family to separate and go in different directions, spending the day in
different trees, to come together again on the night following. At
this season (before there is any bare ground) they have considerable
difficulty in procuring sufficient food.

As already stated, the Raccoon makes its home high up in a
hollow of some large tree, preferring a dead limb to the trunk itself.
It does little in the way of constructing a nest, and from four to six
young are commonly born at a time—generally early in April in this
region. The young remain with the mother about a year.

The flesh of young ’Coons is very fair eating, but that of the adult
animals is tough and rank, and suggests the meat of old Woodchucks.

More than an hundred years ago Thomas Pennant wrote, in his
quaint style, that the Raccoon was “an animal easily made tame,
very good-natured and sportive, but as unlucky as a monkey, almost
always in motion; very inquisitive, examining everything with its
paws; makes use of them as hands: sits up to eat: is extremely fond
of sweet things, and strong liquors, and will get excessively drunk:

has all the cunning of a fox: very destructive to poultry; but will eat

URSUS AMERICANUS. 95

all sorts of fruits, green corn, &c. at low water feeds much on oysters,
will watch their opening, and with its paw snatch out the fish; some-
times is caught in the shell, and kept there till drowned by the com-
ing in of the tide: fond also of crabs: climbs very nimbly up trees:
hunted for its skin; the fur next to that of the beaver, being excellent

Ba

for making hats.” *

Family URSID.
URSUS AMERICANUS Pallas.
Black Bear.

This plantigrade mammil, the largest and most powerful of the in-
habitants of the Adirondacks, is still abundant in most parts of the
Wilderness. His proper home is within the deep evergreen forests,
but he is something of a rover and at certain seasons, particularly in
autumn, makes numerous excursions into the surrounding country.

Notwithstanding the carnivorous position of the Bear he is par ex-
cellence an omnivorous beast, and his larder consists not only of mice
and other small mammals, turtles, frogs, and fish; but also, and large-
ly, of ants and their eggs, bees and their honey, cherries, blackberries,
raspberries, blueberries and various other fruits, vegetables, and roots.
He sometimes makes devastating raids upon the barn-yard, slaying
and devouring sheep, calves, pigs, and poultry. In confinement he
shares with the inmates of the hog-pen whatever is left from his
master’s table.

He delights in tearing open old stumps and logs in search of the
ants that make their homes in such situations,+ and digs out the nests
of the “ yellow-jackets,” devouring both the wasps themselves and the
comb containing their honey and grubs. So fond is he of honey

that he never misses an opportunity to rob a “ bee tree,” manifesting

* Synopsis of Quadrupeds, 1771, pp. Igg—200.

+ While fishing in the North Bay of Big Moose Lake, during the summer of 1881, Mr. Harry
Burrell Miller, of New York city, heard a Bear tearing down an old stump that stood on a point in
the bay. His guide, Richard Crego, noiselessly paddled him to the spot and he killed the Bear with
one ball from his rifle. Its stomach contained about a quart of ants and their eggs.

96 MAMMALIA.

no fear of the bees that angrily swarm about him, his thick hair and
tough hide protecting him from their stings. When plundering the
apple orchard he is said to touch only the sweetest fruit.

He must relish prussic acid, for no article of his comprehensive
bill-of-fare is more certain to secure his consideration than a tree
laden with ripe black-cherries. Here he will spend hours at a time,
glutting upon the handsome fruit, which he leisurely collects from the
branches, and is apt to return again and again so long as the supply
holds out. Fields of ripe blackberries also claim a large share of
attention, and his excessive fondness for them often overcomes his
natural prudence, and he is sometimes surprised, in broad daylight,
indulging his appetite in such situations.

The senses of smell and hearing are so acute in these brutes that
under ordinary circumstances it is impossible to approach even within
rifle range of them. But in the fall of the year, during their expedi-
tions through the clearings, they sometimes wander for miles through
quite thickly settled portions of country, when, owing to the open
nature of the ground, they are frequently seen and occasionally shot.

In Lewis County, about twenty miles west of the western border
of the Wilderness, is an uninhabited tract of evergreen forest, cover-
ing portions of the towns of High Market, Osceola, Montague, and
Pinckney. In this forest dwell many Bears, and in the fall they often
cross over the intervening valley, a fertile farming country, and enter
the Adirondacks. At such times they occasionally pass through our
own grounds, at Locust Grove, in the town of Leyden; and during
one October, about five years ago, no less than nine Bears were killed
within six miles from my residence.

Though good climbers, Bears are unable, on account of their great
weight, to ascend to the tree tops or climb far out on the branches.
They are excellent swimmers, crossing with ease not only rivers, but
even large and broad lakes. Many have been surprised and killed
while swimming the lakes that abound in the “ North Woods”; and

only last year (in July, 1881) the steamer Ganouskie, on Lake

URSUS AMERICANUS. fe
97

George, ran down one of them, and it was killed with an-axe by a
drummer from Gotham. This was just above Anthony's Nose.

As arule our Bears * den up” in winter, but their hibernation is
not profound, and it is prudent not to take many liberties with them
when in this condition. The exact period when the event takes
place is determined by the food supply and the severity of the sea-
son. If the beech-nut crop has been a failure and deep snows come
early, they generally den near the commencement of winter. If, on
the contrary, there has been a good yield of mast, and the winter
is a mild one (and it is a fact that, with us, good beech-nut years are
commonly followed by open winters), the males prowl about nearly,
or quite, all winter, and the females only den a short time before the
period of bringing forth their young. Indeed, it can be set down as
a rule, that so long as a male Bear can find enough to eat he will not
den, be the weather never so severe ; for it is evident that he does
not den to escape either the low temperature or the deep snows,
but to thus bridge over a period when, if active, he would be unable
to procure sufficient food. And the female, under similar circum-
stances, remains out till the maternal impulse prompts her to seek a
shelter for her prospective offspring ; and in this Wilderness they
have been found travelling as late as the middle of January.

The den is not commonly much of an affair. It is generally a
partial excavation under the upturned roots of a fallen tree, or under
a pile of logs, with perhaps a few bushes and leaves scraped together
by way ofa bed, while to the first snow-storm is left the task of
completing the roof and filling the remaining chinks. Not infre-
quently the den is a great hole or cave dug into the side of a knoll,
and generally under some standing tree, whose roots serve as side
posts to the entrance. The amount of labor bestowed upon it de-
pends upon the length of time the Bear expects to hibernate. Ifthe
prospects point toward a severe winter and there is a scarcity of
food, they den early and take pains to make a comfortable nest; but
when they stay out late and then den in a hurry, they do not take

98 MAMMALIA.

the trouble to fix up their nests at all. At such times they simply
crawl into any convenient shelter, without gathering so much as a
bunch of moss to soften their bed. Snow completes the covering,
and as their breath condenses and freezes into it an icy wall begins
to form, and increases in thickness and extent day by day till they are
soon unable to escape, even if they would, and are obliged to wait
in this icy cell till liberated by the sun in April or May.

The diminutive size, premature appearance, and helpless condition
of the young of this species at birth cannot fail to excite surprise.
They are not six inches (152 mm) in length, weigh less than a
pound (453.6 grams), and are not yet covered with hair. Their eyes
do not open for more than a month. I know of no other mammal,
except among the Marsupials, whose young are so disproportion-
ately small, or are born in such an undeveloped condition. It is
necessary for their preservation that the mother should cover them
nearly the whole time for the first two months.

Mr. Frank J. Thompson, Superintendent of the Zoological Garden
at Cincinnati, has published a thoroughly trustworthy account of the
early development of a litter of Black Bears, in confinement; and
observations of this nature are so rare that I here reproduce the
main part of his communication :

«About the middle of January last, the female Black Bear in the
Society's collection refused to come out of her den into the open pit
and would not allow the male to approach her. She was immediately
closed in and furnished with an abundance of hay, with which she
busied herself in making a nice warm bed. At 4 Pp. M. on January
26th, the young ones were born and I did not see them until the
third day after, when I was surprised by the keeper informing me
that she would allow him to enter the den. On going with him, he
unlocked the door, fearlessly walked in, and quickly began feeding
her with bits of bread, which he sliced from a loaf held in his hand.
By holding the bread just over her head, he finally tempted her to

sit up on her haunches, when I obtained a clear view of the two

JRSUS AMERICANUS.
URSL AMERICANI 99

young ones, lying asleep just back of her front paws. From where
I stood, about six feet distant, they did not seem to exceed six
inches in length, were a dirty whitish color, and appeared entirely
bare of hair. In about ten days their coats began to show and were
of a grayish tint, which gradually passed through the various shades
until they became a brownish black. It was just forty days before
the first one’s eyes opened, and two days after the second followed
suit. From that time forward I watched very closely to ascertain the
exact time that would elapse before the young ones would leave the
nest, and on the seventy-first day after birth, when the mother, as
was her habit, came to the grating to be fed, one of the youngsters
left the nest and followed her. So soon as she found it out she im-
mediately drew it gently back, and on its secend attempt, she cuffed
it soundly, which put a stop to its wandering propensity. After a
few days she allowed them to wander about at will provided no one
was immediately in front of the den; but so soon as a visitor put in
an appearance, they were driven back into the nest and not allowed
to emerge until the strangers were out of sight. For some time she
always suckled them in one position, lying over and completely cov-
ering them by stretching flat on her belly with her legs drawn up
under her and her head tucked down between her front paws. As
they grew older and began to run about she would sit on her
haunches, lazily lean back against the wall, take a cub on each fore
arm and hold them up to her breast until they were satisfied. They
soon became expert climbers, taking advantage of the slightest ine-
qualities of the stone walls and the cracks between the heavy oaken
planks to reach the ceiling of the den on three sides, whilst the
grating in front served capitally for their skylarking. Occasionally
they would have a regular sparring bout, standing erect, feinting,
countering, and making use of many of the tricks of old votaries of
the P.R. These frolics would generally end in a clinch, fall, and a
regular rough and tumble fight, when the mother would abruptly put

a stop to it, by suddenly knocking both of the contestants completely

100 MAMMALIA.

out of time. In fact, as they grew apace, the parental visitations in-
creased so rapidly I began to fear she would put an end to my Bear
investigations by chastising the lives out of them, but of late she has
slackened in her attentions, and I am in hopes of following the
growth of Ursus Americanus from babyhood to adolescence.” *

Black Bears commonly have two or three cubs at a birth, and rare-
ly, four. It is doubtful if they have young oftener than every other
year.

Early in February, 1878, E. L. Sheppard, J. W. Shultz, and E. N.
Arnold, while on a Panther hunt in the country northeast of Big Otter
Lake, came across a line cf dimples in the snow that indicated, to
their practised eyes, the course taken by a large Bear some time
before, and now almost hidden by a heavy fall of snow that had oc-
curred about three weeks previously. Judging that the animal had
been searching for winter quarters they determined to follow it; but
being out of provisions Sheppard and Shultz returned to camp for a
new supply, while Arnold took the track. Owing to the thickness
of the forest the snow had not drifted and therefore he had little dif-
ficulty in keeping the track, though nearly a foot of snow covered
it. He soon reached the den, which was an excavation in the
side of a knoll. Not only was the Bear not asleep, but she was ex-
tremely lively and earnest in her attempts to get out. Fortunately,
however, she was already frozen in, and during her fierce and furious
efforts to reach Mr. Arnold he succeeded in shooting her dead. Not-
withstanding the fact that he was well armed Mr. Arnold avers that
if the Bear had had a free exit from her den he doubts much if he
would have lived to narrate the occurrence. After killing the Bear
he discovered that there were three living young beneath her in the
den. He put them in his pocket, but they died that night. They
were very small and helpless, and were probably about two weeks old.

In April of the same year one of the guides found another Bear in
her den in a swamp south of Fourth Lake, Fulton Chain. This den,

* Forest and Stream, Vol. XIII, No. 4, Sept. 4, 1879, p. 605.

URSUS AMERICANUS. IOI

which I have myself seen, was also a hole dug into the side ofa
knoll, and its presence was betrayed by the young who were playing
outside and did not know enough to hide away at the approach of
man. In this case also the old Bear was unable to get out and was
easily killed.

While hunting, June ro, 1878, Dr. C. L. Bagg and the writer fol-
lowed the old trail from Fourth Lake across Eagle Creek in the di-
rection of John’s Lake. In exploring a hardwood ridge a little to
the north of the regular course we were suddenly surprised by a loud
and peculiar cry with which we were both unacquainted. It came
from the direction of a dense balsam swamp below, and somewhat
resembled the squealing of a pig, while at the same time it suggested
the noise made by the Great Blue Heron when on its nesting grounds.
As the cry was repeated Dr. Bagg imitated it, and succeeded so well
that we soon perceived it to be coming nearer. Fearing that it
might change its course I ran down the hill and soon saw a dark-
colored animal, about the size of a Raccoon, emerge from the swamp

g, rushing headlong in the direction towards Dr.

po) S

and jump upon a lo
Bagg, and squealing at brief intervals as if in great distress. Bring-
ing my gun (loaded only with No. 4 shot) hastily to my shoulder I
fired, and the report was followed by a shriek of pain and a plaintive,
baby-like, sobbing cry that lasted for nearly a minute. On reaching
the spot the animal was found to be a cub Bear, and was then quite
dead, one of the shot having passed through both ventricles of the
heart It was very thin, weighing but ten pounds (4536 grams),
and had evidently been lost from its mother for some time. Its
stomach contained nothing but beech-nuts, and beech-nuts that have
lain on the ground all winter, and are still fit to eat in June, are cer-
tainly few and far between.

In traversing unfrequented portions of the Wilderness one occa-
sionally meets with a tree whose bark has been scratched and torn,
at some little height from the ground, in a manner that cannot fail

to excite his attention and surprise. This is the work of the Bear,

LO2 MAMMALIA.

but the object of it is not known. Hunters claim that whenever a
Bear passes one of these trees he stops, stands on his hind-legs and
enaws and scratches it before resuming his journey. The only ac-
count of the strange proceeding that I have seen is given by Audu-
bon and Bachman, who state:

“At one season, the Bear may be seen examining the lower part
of the trunk of a tree for several minutes with much attention, at the
same time looking around and snuffing the air. It then rises on its
hind-legs, approaches the trunk, embraces it with the fore-legs, and
scratches the bark with its teeth and claws for several minutes in
continuance. Its jaws clash against each other until a mass of foam
runs down on both sides of the mouth. After this it continues its
rambles.” *

On the Island of Anticosti, Bears are still numerous, and feed so
largely on fish that the inhabitants state that their flesh is, on this
account, as unpalatable as that of the Sheldrake. During a recent visit
to the west end of this island, I saw the spot, on the beach, where,
three days previously, three full-grown Bears had been killed. It
was at low water, and they were so busily engaged in capturing and
devouring the little fish called Capelin (J/2/otus villosus) that were
detained in the shallow tide-pools on the flat lime-rock shore, that
the fishermen approached unobserved and dispatched them without
trouble.

Bears are great cowards and never attack man except when
wounded, or in defence of their young. When wounded they make
desperate and dangerous foes, and more than one hardy hunter has
lost his life in encounters with them. In fighting, the large and
powerful claws inflict even worse wounds than those made by their
formidable teeth, and the bodies of their victims are often frightfully
lacerated. If able to “close in” with the luckless hunter they stand
upright and hug him tight with their fore-paws, while the hind-claws

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. III, 1854, p. 189.

URSUS AMERICANUS. 2
103

are busy in tearing the flesh from his legs or ripping open his
bowels.

Bears are frequently tamed and, being intelligent brutes, make in-
teresting pets; but their dispositions are not of the gentlest type,
and in growing old, they are apt, at times, to become obstinate and
unruly, if not dangerous, and often have to be killed.

A curious instance of the mischief-making propensity of this ani-
mal has recently attracted considerable attention. During the past
summer (1882) the Adirondack Survey established a Signal Station
on Black Mountain, near the head of Fourth Lake. Returning one
day, after a temporary absence, the members of the party were as-
tonished to find their tent torn down, and blankets books, and instru-
ments strewn about upon the ground. The footprints of a Bear re-
vealed the identity of the marauder; and Mr. Colvin, Superintendent
of the Survey, afterwards fired at and wounded the beast, but did
not succeed in capturing him.

There being no bounty on Bears in New York State, it is impossi-
ble to ascertain how many are annually destroyed in this Wilderness.
That the average number killed each year exceeds thirty there can
be no reasonable doubt, and I have known this number to be killed
in Lewis County alone in a single season.

Bear’s meat is sometimes very good, and sometimes quite the re-
verse. I have eaten it when it tasted like fresh pork, and at other
times when its flavor was so rank and disagreeable as to render it
quite unpalatable. Age, sex, season, and food have to do with this
difference.

In Forest and Stream for Dec. 26, 1878, is printed a portion of an
original manuscript of one Paul Dudley, written about the year 1718.
One paragraph, relating to this species, runs as follows :

« Black Bears—When the snow is deep they den, and don’t come
out till the snow is so wasted as they can trail their food—nuts,
acorns, frogs, berries, crickets, grapes—and preys also. Don't carry

food into their dens; generally den alone, unless it be a she with her

104 MAMMALIA.

cubbs of the first year, sometimes in a Hollow Tree, a Hollow Log,
under the Root of a Tree, cleft of a Rock. Dog scents them &
Barks, then they come out. But if the snow be deep they won't
stir. Kill them, nothing in their gutts but slime; they will put fire in
the Hole of a Tree then the Bear will come Thundering out whether
they are asleep or only mope, for they easily wake. Bear bring
forth but once in 3 years. Suckle their young.”

PINNIPEDIA. Family PHOCID#.

PHOCA VITULINA Linneus.

Harbor Seal.

Mention of the occurrence of a Seal, in a treatise upon the Fauna
of the Adirondack region, will doubtless occasion surprise in the
minds of the majority of my readers. It must be remembered, how-
ever, that the eastern limit of this area embraces a portion of Lake
Champlain, and that the waters of this beautiful lake are put in di-
rect communication with those of the St. Lawrence, below Montreal,
by its outlet, the River Richelieu.

The Harbor Seal breeds regularly both in the Gulf and River of

St. Lawrence, and I have seen numbers of them, in July, as far up —

the River as the Saguenay, and they are still common even within
fifty miles of Quebec.

Zadock Thompson has recorded the capture of two of them on
Lake Champlain. He says: ‘“ While several persons were skating
upon the ice on Lake Champlain, a little south of Burlington, in Feb-
ruary, 1810, they discovered a living seal in a wild state, which had
found its way through a crack and was crawling upon the ice. They
took off their skates, with which they attacked and killed it, and then
drew it to the shore. It is said to have been 42 feet long. It must

have reached our lake by way of the St. Lawrence and Richelieu;

PHOCA VITULINA. 105

but it was not ascertained whether the poor (fat) wanderer had lost
his way, or having taken a mff at society, was seeking voluntary
retirement from the world—of seals.” *

“ Another Seal was killed upon the ice between Burlington and
Port Kent, on the 23d of February, 1846. Mr. Tabor, of Keeseville,
and Messrs. Morse and Field, of Peru, were crossing over in sleighs,
when they discovered it crawling upon the ice, and, attacking it with
the butt-end of their whips, they succeeded in killing it, and brought
it on shore at Burlington, where it was purchased by Morton Cole,
Esq., and presented to the University of Vermont, where its skin
and skeleton are now preserved.” + This is followed by a detailed de-
scription of this specimen, which was a female, and by the remark
that “At the time the above-mentioned Seal was taken, the lake, with
the exception ofa few cracks, was entirely covered with ice.”

During a recent visit to Lake Champlain I was told that a Seal had
been killed on the ice, near Crown Point, within four or five years,
but was unable to authenticate the statement.

Dr. DeKay mentioned the occasional occurrence of this species on
Lake Ontario, many years ago; and during the past winter one was
~ killed on Onondaga Lake that must have reached this remote inland
water by way of Lake Ontario.

I have seen many of these Seals in Long Island Sound, chiefly
about the Thimble Islands; and March 25, 1879, I saw one on a rock
in the Hudson River, near Sing Sing.

We learn, from Mr. J. A. Allen’s excellent ‘ History of the North
American Pinnipeds,” that the period of gestation, in this restless
nomad, is about nine months, and that commonly but a single young
is born at atime, though they sometimes have twins.

They breed very late, generally in June and July, and their young
are deposited upon the shore instead of upon the ice, as is customary
with many species.

* Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1842, p. 38.
+ Loc. cit., Appendix, 1853, p. 13.

106 MAMMALIA.

This species, like most of the Seal kind, feeds chiefly upon fish,
squids, shrimps, and the like. They sometimes prove a great nui-
sance to the fisherman, by robbing his nets of the salmon and other
fish that they happen to contain. They have also been observed to
catch sea birds while swimming by seizing them from below.

The Harbor Seal, when taken young, is easily domesticated, and
soon becomes very tame and fond of its master. It is a very intelli-
gent animal, and may be taught many things. It is said to be par-
ticularly fond of music.

Mr. Allen quotes the following from the pen of Dr. Edmonston :
“The young ones are easily domesticated, and display a great deal
of sagacity. One in particular became so tame that it lay along the
fire among the dogs, bathed in the sea, and returned to the house,
but having found the way to the byres, used to steal there unob-
served and suck the cows.’*

These Seals make a variety of noises. Their most characteristic
cry 1s a sad, plaintive moan, or a prolonged, dismal howl. When a
number unite, as is commonly the case, in a doleful chorus the ef-
fect is most depressing. Last summer (in July, 1882), when befogged
off the Mingan Islands, I on several occasions observed this per-
formance. It seemed like the lament of a doomed race, bewailing
an inevitable fate, and bemoaning, in solemn requiem, the loss of
former comrades.

This mournful cadence is usually executed in the night-time, and
the darkness certainly does not detract from the general melancholy
of the effect. The cold, bleak shores, too, lend an additional element
of cheerlessness to the scene. However, it must be remembered
that the deep-drawn sighs, the woe-begone moans, and the chorus
that suggests a dirge, may all, for aught we know, be expressions of
joy and contentment; for it is the impression produced upon us that
is melancholy and sad. _ So little do we comprehend the language of

our inferiors.

* Monograph of North American Pinnipeds, 1880, p. 594.

Is Not THE Fish Crow

(Corvus ossifragus Wilson.)

A WINTER AS WELL AS A SUMMER RESIDENT AT THE NORTHERN
LIMIT OF ITS RANGE?

BY

VETEEL AM DU POE E

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IS NOT THE FISH CROW (GQrvus ossifragus Wilson) A
WINTER AS WELL AS SUMMER RESIDENT AT THE
NORTHERN LIMIT OF ITS RANGE?

ly HE above query presented itself to me, January 2, 1882, when I
received a fine specimen of this bird from Mr. D. B. Keeler,
Jr., of Rumsen’s Neck, near Sandy Hook, N. J. It proved on dis-
section to be a female, whose stomach was filled with partially di-
gested fish.

I presume that no one now questions the northern boundary of the
habitat of the Fish Crow to be the upper New Jersey coast, Long
Island, Lower Hudson Valley, and the coast line of Connecticut, with
an occasional visitor to Massachusetts. I think that the records given
by Messrs. Zerega, Roosevelt, Bicknell, and others, to which I will
more particularly refer hereafter, establish this as a fact without
doubt. It is only within a few years that this Crow has been positively
credited to the localities above mentioned, although it may be that it
was always as common with us as it is now, but that owing to the
close resemblance to its larger brother (C. frugzvorus), it escaped the
observation of the earlier naturalists.

Until very recently all references to the Fish Crow at the northern
limit of its habitat have been to the effect that it was there a summer
resident only. This opinion has been so generally accepted that it

is unnecessary here to bring forward any particular records. The

LIO FISH CROW.

more recent records, on the other hand, I think establish it as a winter
resident wherever it is found in the summer.

In the Bulletin of the Nuttall Ornithological Club, Vol. I, page 19,
Mr. William Brewster reports having seen, March 16, 1875, a Fish
Crow at Cambridge, Mass.

In the same, Vol. III, page 131, Mr Eugene P. Bicknell, in his
article on ‘‘ Evidences of the Carolinian Fauna in the Lower Hudson
Valley,” records a pair observed at Riverdale, New York city, on
February 24, and after.|*|

In the same, Vol. IV, page 82, Prof. W. E. D. Scott, of Princeton
College, in his ‘‘ Late Fall and Winter Notes on some Birds observed
in the vicinity of Princeton, N. J., 1878-79” says: “On January 21
I took a Fish Crow (Corvus ossifragus), and another on the following
day, and saw many others flying about with the common species.”
He says further: ‘“ The preceding notes are not particularly remark-
able except in the case of the Hermit Thrush and Fox Sparrow,
both of which are, to say the least, very rare during so severe a
season.” Mr. Scott had been speaking of a number of birds and
among others the Fish Crow, and the inference is very marked that
he did not consider it (the Fish Crow) in the least a rare bird in win-
ter, even though the winter was an exceptionally severe one.

In the same, Vol. V, page 205, Mr. Louis A. Zerega, in his
“Notes on the Northern Range of the Fish Crow,’ says: “ Mr.
Theodore Roosevelt shot a male at Oyster Bay, Long Island, on
December 30, 1874.” . . .-. “QOnthe 17th of March, 1880, Mr.
Keeler ‘ winged’ a Fish Crow.” In speaking of the semi-diurnal
movements from the sleeping place in the woods to the feeding

ground along the shores he says : ‘ These flights do not occur during

[* Although it is not improbable that the Fish Crow may remain during winter in the Lower Hud-
son Valley, it is proper here to state that it has not actually been found at that season earlier than
the time above indicated.

In this connection reference should not be omitted to Dr. E. A. Mearns’ remarks on the Fish
Crow, bringing its history as a bird of New York State up to a recent date.—See Bull. Essex In-
stitute, Vol. XII, pp. 110-112.—Eds. ]

FISH CROW. PEI

summer, when Crows are decidedly scarce. In the winter and fall
one sees immense numbers of Crows flying in the general course,
but from May until September scarcely a dozen may be seen in a
day.” In his measurements of Seabright specimens he gives the fol-
lowing dates of capture : Nov. 15 (two specimens), Nov. 22, and Dec.
2, 1879; March 17, 1880.

We have above a complete w7xter record of the capture of this
bird, and moreover Messrs. Scott and Zerega both say positively that
it was plentiful at the time their observations were made.

Mr. Keeler tells me that he considers the Fish Crow a winter resi-
dent in the vicinity of Sandy Hook, N. J., in fact that he has no
doubt about it whatever. He also stated that he could any day dur-
ing the w7xzfer secure specimens. At the present time they are very
plentiful. Of five Crows shot by him near his residence on the 2d
of January, 1882, two were C. ossz/ragus.

In view of the evidence presented above, should we not hereafter
class the Fish Crow, as a permanent winter resident in its northern

habitat, instead of a rave summer visitor ?

A REVIEW OF THE SUMMER BIRDS

OF A PART OF

THE CATSKILL MOUNTAINS,

WITH PREFATORY REMARKS ON

THE FAUNAL AND FLORAL FEATURES OF THE REGION.

BY

EUGENE PINTARD BICKNELL.

oT 12

A REVIEW OF THE SUMMER BIRDS OF A PART OF
THE CATSKILE MOUNTAINS;. WITH PREFATORY
REMARKS ON THE FAUNAL AND FLORAL FEA-
TURES (OF CEE REGION.

W's. present knowledge of the birds, if it cannot as truly be said

the entire vertebrate fauna, of our great Appalachian chain of
mountains, with the exception of a few limited sections, is virtually
reducible to a recognition of the law of latitudinal equivalent in alti-
tude obtaining in the distribution of terrestrial life, qualified by obser-
vations scanty and sporadic.

Notwithstanding the ease of access and popularity as summer
resorts of many sections of this great mountain system, and its im-
portance from a zoological standpoint, few parts of it are so satisfac-
torily treated in our ornithological literature as are portions of the
distant ranges of the West. Until recently, it could not be said that
we had anything at all comprehensive or authoritative pertaining to
the birds of any part of this system, and the extent of our published
knowledge of its ornithology could almost be summed up in the con-
tents of a few isolated notes and of scanty facts scattered through
biographical matter. Indeed the bird biographies of Wilson and
Audubon furnish important facts relating to this subject which still
remain without other authority.

It is this state of our knowledge which so urgently demands all

facts in point, whether for actual increase or merely for verification,

116 INTRODUCTORY.

that has called forth the present paper. No excuse need be offered
for its manifest incompleteness, albeit it falls far short of a complete
review of the summer birds of the region treated, and the subject of
their environment is but cursorily entertained, for it is presented
solely as the contribution to an important subject permitted by a
transient experience in an unworked field. Moreover, completeness
in delineating the more pronounced features of the avi-fauna of the
defined region may be considered as reasonably attained ; and a pre-
cise knowledge of salient faunal features, extended and applied,
must yield a true conception of the broader principles of geographical
distribution. Primary features rather than incidental details must
bestow the character of all broad generalization.

Of the Alleghanian system in New York State the Adirondacks
have received the most attention, and though we have as yet nothing
full on the ornithology of this section, the recent preliminary papers
of Dr. Merriam indicate that we have much to expect.

In connection with a knowledge of the avi-fauna of the Adiron-
dacks, a knowledge of that of the Catskills, second in importance
only to the former as a culminating point of the mountain system to
which both pertain, in New York State, is highly desirable; and
though we have had from Mr. John Burroughs some beautiful pen-
pictures of the bird-life of this region, and the writings of this author *
have much fass¢m on the subject of its feathered inhabitants, other
than this, and incidental allusions in published matter, a short note by
Mr. T. M. Trippe,+ is all I find applying directly to it.t

The observations on which the present paper is based were made

during brief explorations of the more southern Catskills in three suc-

*Tt may here be stated that all references made in this paper to Mr. Burroughs’ writings are
to the volumes in which have been collected many of his essays which first appeared as magazine
articles.

+ American Naturalist, VI, 1, 47-48, January, 1872.

+ A recent paper by the writer renders this statement hardly exact and may here be cited :

“A Sketch of the Home of Hylocichla Alicia Bicknelli, Ridgway, with some Critical Remarks on
the Allies of this new Race.”” Bull. Nutt. Ornith. Club, VII, 3, 152-9, July, 1882.

INTRODUCTORY. 117

cessive years: from June 6-15, 1880; 12-18, 1881; 24-27, 1882; on
the latter occasion accompanied by Dr. A. K. Fisher, of Sing Sing,
N. Y. Mr. R. F. Pearsall, of Brooklyn, also visited the same section
of the region from May 30 to June 13, 1882, during this time con-
fining his attention principally to the nidification of the birds, and has
kindly permitted me the use of his notes. I have also had occasion
to refer to notes taken by my brothers, Pierrepont C. and G. A.
Bicknell, who at different times made trout-fishing and camping ex-
cursions into these mountains, always carefully noting observations
on the birds.

On my first visit to the region head-quarters were made near
Summit,* from whence exploration was conducted southward
through the Big Indian Valley, over a distance of about twenty
miles,—nearly to the southern terminus of the mountains ; towards
the northeast, about ten miles; and to lesser distances in other direc-
tions. On the subsequent visits, exploration was mainly confined to
the region about the head of the Big Indian Valley and adjacent
mountains, which my former trip had demonstrated to be an interest-
ing section for that purpose.

The country here is very sparingly cultivated, and tilled ground is
seen only as a necessary accessory to the dwellings of the settlers
which extend interruptedly along the valley, becoming increasingly
separated and of more primitive construction towards the remoter
portions. Still farther beyond, and above, indications of the former
presence of lumbermen, in natural sequence to an abandoned saw: mill
in the valley below, remain along the rough mountain road ; but up
on the precipitous slopes, where the ancient forests of deciduous trees
have repelled the devastating bark-peeler, Nature, too austere to re-

* This point is on the line of the Ulster and Delaware Railroad, about thirty miles west from the
Hudson River ; the altitude in the immediate vicinity varies from 1,500-1,600 feet in the valleys to
2,482 feet on the highest hill.

The altitudes and distances given in this paper are from, or approximated from, Prof. A. Guyot’s

** Map of the Catskill Mountains,” 1880.

118 INTRODUCTORY.

tain any impression of the chance explorer or, perhaps, never invaded
by the foot of man, remains rugged and absolute as it came from the
cosmic forces.

The entire region is decidedly mountainous, and traversed by
numerous valleys, of greater or less extent, with their streams and
brooks all swiftly flowing over rough and stony beds. The main
water-course of that part of the region here considered is Esopus
Creek, which, rising in one branch (Birch Creek) almost at a point of
junction of three counties— Ulster, Delaware, and Greene—circuit-
ously traverses the former towards the Hudson, which it finally
reaches, after a journey of nearly sixty miles, at a point not thirty
miles from its source.

The railroad follows the course of this stream on its track through
the mountains, and that the birds have also taken advantage of this
unobstructed way from the Hudson to the heart of the Catskills seems
to be shown by the presence of several species along the valley, even
far in the mountains, which were not noticed without its limits.

Extending from this valley, less than thirty miles from the Hudson,
is the Big Indian Valley or Hollow, which passes irregularly south-
ward with a gradually increasing elevation until dissipated in moun-
tain passes, about eight miles from its entrance. Here it cradles the
early flow of the main branch of Esopus Creek, guiding its rapid and
increasing waters into more expansive course below.

The highest elevations in the Catskills are found among the moun-
tains about this point, where are clustered several peaks closely
approaching four thousand feet in altitude. Rising among these is
Slide Mountain (4,205 feet), which has recently been ascertained to
exceed in height all other peaks of the Catskill group, so that to this
comparatively unknown mountain has now been awarded the palm
which was long supposed to belong to others. Its name was evident-
ly bestowed with reference to an extensive land slide which has bared
its eastern slope, for a varying width of rods, from near the summit

far down into a gorge, where, from above, its devastation becomes

INTRODUCTORY. 119

lost to sight. The sandy and rocky surface of its course seems grad-
ually becoming encroached upon by a sparse growth of small shrubs
and plants from the mountain vegetation on either side, and with this
was growing scattered clumps of a wood-rush (Luzula parviflora
Desv.) not before, I think, reported from as far south. Here was
found the only exposed ground met with at a high altitude, most of
the mountains being well wooded, and lacking those more imposing
features which are conferred by bold and rugged outlines and barren
summits.

The mountains grouped about the Slide separate two very different
water-sheds, and there are many streams of proximate sources, whose
waters reach the Atlantic through no less separated outlets than Dela-
ware and New York Bays. From a recent paper “On the Physical
Geography and Hypsometry of the Catskill Mountain Region,” by
Arnold Guyot,* the following, relating to this subject and to Slide
Mountain, may be transcribed :—

“The Slide Mountain, the culminating point of the Southern, and
the highest of all the Catskills, is in many respects quite remarkable.
It terminates abruptly on the northeast towards the deep valley of
Woodland . . . From its broad triangular top it sends a ridge
towards the southeast, which divides the waters of the Esopus from
those of the Rondout, and terminates in the Lone Mountain 3670
feet, by which it is almost connected with the Wittemberg chain.
Another high ridge descends towards the south and nearly reaches
the high group of Table Mountain 3865 feet, and Peak-o’-Mouse
| Peak-o’-Moose] 3875 feet, which separates the head-waters of the
Rondout from those of the East branch of the Navesink. It thus be-
comes the main hydrographic centre of the region, sending its waters
to the northwest by the Esopus; northeast to the same by the Wood-
land Creek; south by the Rondout to the Hudson; southwest by the
Navesink to the Delaware.”

Though an exploration of other peaks adjoining the Slide Mountain
would have been of the highest interest, circumstances did not admit
of its accomplishment, and, excepting that of the Slide Mountain itself,

no summits much over 3,000 feet altitude were visited. The greater

* American Journal of Science, XIX, I14, 429-451, June, 1880.

120 GEOLOGY.

part of the region traversed is in the southern Catskills, as defined by
the authority already quoted, in the following words :—

“The mountain region is divided by the Esopus Creek into two
groups differing considerably in their physical structure, one on the
north, the northern or Catskills proper, situated mainly in Greene
county ; the other on the south, the southern Catskills or Shandaken
Mountains, in Ulster county.”

Of the geological origin of the region Mr. Guyot says :—

“The masses of rocks forming the Catskill Mountains were deposit-
ed in a gulf of the Devonian Sea comprised between the Adirondack
plateau and the Green Mountain range, including the low Silurian
ridges between the Hudson and the foot of the Catskills, all of which
were probably emerged when the Devonian age began. Most of
New England was also above the level of the ocean. The thickness
of the sediments shows that the bottom of this gulf gradually sub-
sided during that time to a depth cf some 5coo feet, constantly mak-
ing room for new deposits. The presence of the gray conglomerate
capping the highest hills proves that the deposition of these sedi-
ments continued into the sub-carboniferous period, after which they
were upheaved above the level of the ocean, before the deposit of
the Coal-measures, and have remained emerged ever since.”

A further quotation of some very pertinent remarks on the general
character of the region may here be made : —

“In a former paper on the physical structure of the Appalachian
system, I noted the fact that, though extending through the most
populated and civilized part of the United States, that system of
mountains was still among the least known of our country. This re-
mark applies with double force to the Catskill Mountain region.

« Situated in the old and flourishing State of New York, only one
hundred miles from its metropolis, in full sight and within a few miles
of the great artery of travel, the Hudson River; visited every sum-
mer by thousands of tourists in search of the beauties of nature and
of the cool air of its high valleys and plateaus, its real mountain re-
gion has been thus far almost a sealed book to the geographer and
the geologist as well as to the transient visitor . . . . The whole
region was originally an unbroken forest, and, with the exception of
the bottom and slopes of a few valleys and of some portions of the
northeastern plateaus, it has remained so to this day.

“ The wilderness of the Adirondacks is more extensive but hardly
more complete than that of the pathless forests of the Southern Cat-
skills, the habitual haunts of numerous bears, wild-cats, and occasional
panthers.”

MAMMALIA: THE PORCUPINE. 121

In connection with the summer birds of the region it will be prof-
itable to consider briefly the general aspect of its Fauna and Flora, as
exhibited by associated forms of life, so far as the result of limited
observation will permit.

Necessarily so transient an acquaintance with the region as was ex-
perienced was insufficient to afford a clear idea of its Mammalian Fau-
na, so that few quadrupeds not of special faunal significance in the
present connection will be alluded to.

One of the most interesting mammals encountered was the Porcu-
pine (Zrethizon dorsatus). The local distribution of this animal seem-
ed to be but little influenced by altitude, and it was observed in the
lower valley as well as at the mountain tops. On the occasion of
my first visit several were met with about the summit of Slide
Mountain, but the following year at the same spot none were to be
found, and a necrology inscribed on a smooth log accounted for two
victims, and was interpreted asa tale of the local disappearance of their
race with the advent of thoughtless tourists. The next year, however,
it was discovered not only that there were survivors, but that these
were given to aggressive familiarity toward strangers. From even-
ing till morning dusk our cabin on the extreme summit of the moun-
tain was virtually besieged by them, and through the chinks their
dark forms could be seen moving about among the shadows in the
moonlight, while their sharp cries, and often low conversational chat-
ter singularly like the voices of infants, were weird interruptions of the
midnight silence, or later, of the moaning wind.

The seeming nocturnal temerity of these creatures appeared to
be simply an exhibition of excessive stupidity. It was found impos-
sible to drive them from the camp for any length of time; they seem-
ed to be destitute of the faculty of memory, and even a light charge
of shot sent among them was only for the moment effectual. Even
when one particularly stupid individual had been shot dead in the
doorway trying to effect an entrance by gnawing its way through a

g

L22 MAMMALIA.

gap, another, shortly after, continued the operation beside the lifeless
body of its companion.

It seems probable that these singular rodents cannot long survive
human settlement. Incapable of rapid motion they are easily ap-
proached, and their spiny armature, so potent a protection from their
natural enemies, fails before the merciless power of man. In the iso-
lation of the mountain top where we have just seen them, they ap-
peared to be at a loss to understand the nature of their disturbers,
and when met with showed little excitement, or anxiety to escape.
Their greatest effort in this direction appeared to be leisurely shuf-
fling out of the immediate way, often climbing with sluggish effort into
a small balsam and composing themselves among the branches just
out of easy reach.

An interesting interchange of animal forms between the highlands
of this region and the lower country is remarked by Mr. Burroughs,*
who speaks of the Little Gray Rabbit (Zepus sylvaticus) of the low-
lands, being replaced by the Northern Hare (Lepus Americanus) on
the mountains. The latter species, though long known to extend far
southward in the Alleghanies, is characterized by the same writer as
abundant in this section.+ Testimony to the same effect was given
by residents, and both species were said to occur together in certain
parts of the valleys; but nothing further regarding them than the
presence of both was determined by personal observation.

The most abundant animal appeared to be the Chipmunk ( 7amzas
striatus) which was everywhere met with, even near the top of Slide
Mountain. These little rodents probably constitute a large propor-
tion of the prey of the rapacious birds inhabiting the region, which,
however, do not appear to be many either in species or, excepting
owls, in individuals. In a pellet of fur and bones from some bird of
prey were the remains of one or more of these animals, and with them

those of the Mole Shrew (Alarina brevicauda) were recognized by

* Wake Robin, ed. 1871, 42.
+ Winter Sunshine, 1876, 65-66.

REPTILIA. 122

Dr. Fisher. Red Squirrels (Scéarus Hudsontus) were common, but
the Gray Squirrel (Sc¢’urus Carolinensis) was not observed. In-
quiry elicited the information that it sparingly occurred on the moun-
tains about the Big Indian Valley, and never in the black form,
which, however, was common in an adjoining town. Bears were
said to be common, and indications of their presence in “scratched
trees’ and torn ground were not infrequent.

A marked negative character in the Fauna and one bearing out its
Canadian affinity is the scarcity of the Zestudinata. In the case of
certain aquatic turtles this is of course coincident with the scarcity of
localities suited to their habits, but with the terrestrial species is
undoubtedly the result of faunal restrictions. None, indeed, of the
terrestrial forms were observed, nor could I learn of their presence,
so that though the occurrence of at least one species is probable it
certainly cannot be common.

Except in the case of a single species, a scarcity of Ophidza was
also noticeable, and three serpents only were observed: the Striped
Snake (Zutenta strtalis), the Ring-necked Snake (Deadophis punc-
tatus), and the Milk Snake (Ofphzbolus doliatus triangulus), and evi-
dence gathered of the occurrence of one other. The former was the
common serpent of the region and showed the impress of an envi-
ronment diverse from that which dominates the species in the Lower
Hudson Valley, in differences from the typical form there found which
doubtless constitute the variety ovdzzata. Individuals, seen but not
secured, at the highest altitudes at which the species was observed—
about 3,000 feet—appeared to typically represent this race and were
strikingly different from the striped forms, but others, captured in
the valley, were less completely differentiated. A specimen of the
Ring-necked Snake was found dead on June 12, 1880, containing five
ova measuring .90 inches by .25—.30. This individual was of large
size for the species, measuring eighteen and one-eighth inches in
length. The residents were well acquainted with a “ bright green”

snake, without question Lzofelt’s. It was a common belief among

124 BATRACHIA.

the inhabitants that Rattlesnakes do not occur where there is white
ash timber, and I was assured that there were none nearer than
Pheenicia, of about 800 feet elevation.

Of the Batrachia the following named species were observed :-—

Rana clamttans Merrem.—Green Frog.

Rana Catesbtana Shaw.—Bull Frog; occurs about certain small
lakes not distant from the Big Indian Valley, in which section it was
not observed.

Rana temporaria sylvatica (le Conte) Gthr—Wood Frog.

Fiyla Pickeringit Holbrook——Hyla; Piping Tree Frog.

Bufo lentiginosus Americanus (Le Conte) Cope-—Common Toad.

Plethodon erythronotus (Green) Baird.—Red-backed Salamander.

Spelerpes bilineatus (Green) Baird—Two-striped Salamander.

Spelerpes ruber (Daudin) Gray—Red Triton or Salamander.

Desmognathus ochrophea Cope.—Alleghany Mountain Salaman-
deter

In addition to these, Ambystoma punctatum (L.) Baird (Large
Yellow-spotted Salamander), and Déemyctylus miniatus Raf. (Red
Eft)+ were brought by my brother (P. C. B.) from the same county.

*The only common name that I have seen used for this Salmander, ‘‘ Yellow Desmognath”
(Jordan’s Manual), it seems undesirable to perpetuate. The animal is ot yellow, and there is
no reason why the surnominal appellation should not conform with that of other members of the same
genus. For these reasons I have taken the liberty of using a common name based on the very

characteristic distribution of the animal.

+ Although this species has been regarded as merely a variety, or state, of D. viridescens, and
recently developed facts (See American Naturalist, XII, 6, 399) have been construed as proof of
its identity with that species, it is perhaps yet too soon for a final decision in the premises. I am
induced here to retain the forms as distinct, from the fact of having dredged an individual of
miniatus from a pond containing abundance of wivédescens; both animals under these common con-
ditions remaining obviously different. The specimen referred to was taken from a depth of over
two feet of water, and showed indications of activity of the procreative functions. The pond where
it occurred was well shaded, with dark water and muddy bottom, and naturally the influence of
these conditions was expressed in the color of the animal. This was unusually dull with little
obvious reddish tinge, and a careless glance might have referred the specimen to viridescens;
but a difference in the texture and appearance of the skin, and a slenderness and delicacy of general

form at once proclaimed the difference, which comparison emphasized.

BATRACHIA ; FISHES. 125

The notes of /Zyla versicolor Le Conte (Common Tree Toad) were
heard from the train on the way into the mountains, but this species
appeared to be absent from the higher parts of the region.

Along the borders of Esopus Creek Spelerfes bilineatus was found
to be common, and its larvae were numerous among the stones at
the shallow margin. One individual was taken at an elevation of
nearly 2,700 feet. Extending to a still greater altitude—nearly or
quite a thousand feet higher—occurred that high northwardly extend-
ing Salamander, Yethodon erythronotus, of which several specimens
were unearthed. In one example the red color of the dorsal aspect
was of a brighter and more pink shade than is common, and seemed
to have burst out laterally from the conventional dorsal band,
invading the dusky color of the sides, running out on the limbs and
passing almost around the neck. That characteristic Alleghany
Mountain Salamander, Desmoguathus ochrophea, was found in abun-
dance near Pine Hill exhibiting great variation in color. In some fresh
examples the yellowish-brown coloration of the upper surface had a
peculiar satiny or metallic lustre, closely resembling the color of old
gold. This same characteristic of coloration is often seen in Spelerpes
bclineatus, rendering the singular general resemblance between these
species still more close.

The mountain streams abounded with Brook Trout, but no other
fish large enough to take the hook was noticed beyond, about, 1,600—
1,700 feet elevation, though, as no special search was made, small
species could easily have been and doubtless were overlooked. The
little Black-nosed Dace (Rhznuichthys atronasus) ascended however to
about the elevation named, and several common fishes were reported
from the stream in the main valley.

Although it was intended to limit this cursory survey of faunal
characteristics to the vertebrates, we may pause for a brief glance
at the Molluscous Fauna of the region, which differs strikingly from
that of the Lower Hudson Valley at New York City. In general

it may be said that the more conspicuous species of land-shells most

126 MOLLUSCA.

abundant in the mountains occur rarely, or not at all, in the latter
section, and the converse is also, in a measure, true. Indeed, several
genera, or subgenera, of each region are unrepresented in the other.
Twenty-one species of land, and two of fresh-water mollusks which
were collected, are named as follows by Mr. Henry Prime of River-

dale :

Macrocyclis concava Say, P. striatella Anth.,
Zonites fuliginosus Griff, Tebennophorus Carolinensis Bosc.,
“ ligerus Say, Flelicodiscus lineatus Say,
“ — Snornatus Say, FPallifera dorsalis Binn.,
‘“ arboreus Say, Stenotrema monodon Rack., and
“ — gndentatus Say, var. fraterna,
« — minusculus Binn. (?),* — Mesodon albolabris Say,
“« — Binneyanus Morse, “ dentifera Binn.,
“ extiguus Stimpson, - Sayzz Binn.,
« fulvus Drap., Succtnea obligua Say,
“ — _multidentatus Binn., Physa heterostropha Say,
Patula alternata Say, Anodon Lenedictit Lea.

This collection was made without systematic or extended search,
and, though it is to be considered as reasonably representative of the
immediate localities explored, must necessarily be too imperfect for a
broader application.

Although justice cannot here be done to the Flora of the region it
should not be passed over without some allusion to its decidedly
Canadian characteristics. These, and the abrupt physiographical
changes from contiguous regions which they represent, cannot be
more clearly brought out than by comparison, and to this end the
Flora of the vicinity of my own home at Riverdale-on-Hudson may
be considered in counterview. The Flora of this section may be
regarded as fairly representative of that of the Hudson Valley for
some distance above New York City, and is far less southern in

character than that of the coast region of New York and New Jersey,

* Specimen too fragmentary for positive identification.

BOTANY. 127

not many miles below, where numerous species occur, many in
abundance, which do not reach the Hudson Valley. Although many
plants absent from this locality have been recorded from points at no
great distance, the fact of their non-occurrence over a certain diversi-
fied tract shows them to be not of general distribution, and it would
obviously tend to a false result to include other than well-represent-
ed species in a comparison of general features.

The deciduous forests of that section of the Catskills under con-
sideration are largely composed of hard maple, beech, and birch; the
oaks, hickories, and chestnuts of the lower country gradually disap-
pearing with increasing elevation, a few stragglers only of some of
these trees penetrating the region through the main valley, and none
occurring in the mountain forests.

Whatever invasion there has been of the vegetation of the lower
country into the mountains has without doubt been assisted by in-
voluntary human agency, for the influence that has resulted in the
introduction and naturalization of many foreign plants along the rail-
road and about the villages, and the effects of which are often recog-
nized remote from human settlement, cannot have been inoperative
with native vegetation.

The many familiar introduced plants abounding near the railroad,
and in populated sections, affords a feature of correspondence with the
Flora of the Lower Hudson Valley, but in ascending the secondary
valleys, the true Flora of the region appears with gradually increasing
purity, and in those portions remote from settlement, and in the
mountains, the contrast between the vegetation of these adjoining
districts is most striking. A more detailed comparison will show that
this contrast is caused more by the absence in the vegetation of the
mountains of genera and species which abound in the Hudson Valley,
than by the addition of forms not found in the latter region. In the
arboreous vegetation of the mountains the following genera of trees,
which constitute the most conspicuous and important elements of the
Hudson Valley woodland, are not represented: Lirtodendron,

128 BOTANY.

Liguidambar, Nyssa, Sassafras, Celtis, Morus, Carya, Quercus, Cas-
tanea, Funiperus, Platanus.* On the other hand, one of the most
abundant and characteristic forest trees of the mountains, the Yellow
Birch (Letula lutea Michx.), extends only as a chance straggler into
the lower country. This species, however, among the deciduous
trees, and the Balsam Fir and Black Spruce (Adzes balsamea Marshall,
and A. xzgra Poir.) among the evergreens, were the only larger trees
which the contrasted Flora does not also possess. Continuing the list
of important absences from the mountain Flora, the following genera
and species of smaller trees, shrubs, and woody plants may be
mentioned : Ewonymus, Cornus florida L., Viburnum prunifolium L.
Vaccinium vacillans Sol., Leucothoé, Andromeda ligustrina Muhl.,
Clethra, Azalea viscosa L., Lindera, Myrica, and Alnus serrulata Ait.

Of the arborescent and woody vegetation of the mountains the fol-
lowing species I have never observed about Riverdale : Acer Penn-
sylvanicum L.,and A. spicatum Lam., Pyrus Americana DeC., Ame-
lanchier Canadensis oligocarpa Gray, Ribes Cynosbati L., R. rotundt-
Jolium Michx., R. lacustre Poir., R. prostratum L’Her.,and R. hirtellum
Michx., Lonzcera ciliata Muhl., Sambucus pubens Michx. (occurs on
Palisades in Lower Hudson Valley), Viburnum nudum cassinoides
Gray, V. opulus L., V. lantanotdes Michx., Rhododendron maximum
L., Mex levigata Gray, Corylus rostrata Ait., Taxus baccata Cana-
densts Gray, Nemopanthes Canadensis DeC.

The foregoing comparison is, of course, merely a superficial one
dealing only with more prominent species, and many other names
might have been mentioned.

More than three hundred and twenty-five species of trees and
plants, exclusive of Vascular Cryptogams, were observed during my
stay in the mountains, and of these the names of some seventy-five
do not appear on my records of the Riverdale Flora. Nearly fifty

of the number mentioned, however, are not indigenous to the region,

* Representatives of the latter five were noticed sparingly in the main valley, but did not occur

in the mountains.

BOTANY. 129

and leaving these out of consideration, together with the species of
Cyperacee and Graminea, for, at the time of my visits, owing to their
immaturity, few but the most familiar species of these orders were to
be recognized, we find nearly one-third of the indigenous Flora to be
different from that of the region with which it is compared.

Reversing the comparison it appears that of over three hundred
indigenous Phanerogams which, in the less elevated region, come
into flower prior to the end of June, nearly two-thirds were not
found in the Catskills. Not having visited any bodies of water
in the latter region, restricted aquatic species have not been allowed
to figure in the enumeration.

Among the characteristic plants of the Catskills, such northern
species as most of the following occur, many in abundance: Coftzs
trifolia Salisb., Actea spicata rubra Michx., Dcentra Canadensis
DeC., Arabis perfoliata Lam , Viola rotundifolia Michx., and V. Cana-
densts L., Claytonia Caroliniana Michx., Geranium Robertianum L.,
Impatiens pallida Nutt., Oxalzs acetosella L., Geum rivale L., Fra-
garia Virgintana Ehrhart, and /. vesca L., Rubus odoratus L., R.
triflorus Rich., and &. strigosus Michx., 7iarella cordifolia L., M-
tella diphylla L., Circea alpina L., Epilobium spicatum Lam. (=£. an-
gustifolium .), Archangelica atropurpurea Hoftm.,—abundant along
the railroad before entering the mountains; Aralza racemosa L.,
A. hispida Michx, A. nudicaulis L., and A.guinguefolia Gray, Cornus
Canadensis L., Lonicera ciliata Muhl., Diervilla trida Moench, Galz-
ume lanceolatum Torr., Aster acuminatus Michx., Solidago thyrsotdea E.
Meyer, 7rzentalis Americana Pursh, Veronica Americana Schw.,
and /”. officinalis L., Polygonum cilinode Michx., Calla palustris L.,
Habenaria viridis bracteata Reich., Trillium ecrythrocarpum Michx.,
T. erectum L., Veratrum viride Ait., Streptopus amplexifolius DeC.,
and S. voseus Michx., Clintonta borealis Raf., Smilacena bifolia Ker.,
Luzula parviflora Desv., Carex vitilis Fr., C. Deweyana Schw., C.
arctata Boot, C. plantaginea Lam. and Careyana Torr., which are per-

130 BOTANY.

haps closer than specifically related, C. pallescens L., and C. scabrata
Schw., and /va alsodes Gray.

Of twenty-seven species of Ferns (including Ophzoglossacee) which
were noted (a number of others have been reported from different
localities in the Catskills) ten do not occur about Riverdale, and
one, Aspidium aculeatum Brauniz Koch, discovered in Greene
County on June 14, 1880, in ‘“‘ Deep Hollow,”—a steep defile where
the winter's ice was yet lingering in the recesses of the rocks,—al-
though before found in the Catskills, has been reported farther south
only from a single locality in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

Some plants find their extreme southern limit, so far as known, in
these mountains, while others which assist in bearing out the northern
aspect of its Flora are known to extend along the higher peaks of the
Alleghanies into the Southern States.

In passing from the valleys into the mountains it was interesting
to observe of plants of general distribution how much less advanced
was their seasonal condition as the elevation increased. The ex-
tremes of this contrast, as shown by the vegetation at the summit of
Slide Mountain and that of the valleys below, was most striking.
Some species which in the valleys had ceased flowering and were
bearing green fruit were still in full bloom at the mountain tops,
while others in like condition in the valleys and on lower slopes, on
the mountains had not advanced beyond their earliest buds. In the
case of generally diffused species this retrogressive gradation in
seasonal condition with increasing altitude was, of course, complete.

Professor Chas. H. Peck has somewhere recorded* the fact that
many swamp-loving plants grow upon the higher mountains of the
Adirondacks, the necessary condition of moisture being supplied by
the frequent presence of clouds and the increased precipitation on the

elevated summits. The same fact was observable in the Catskills,

* Since this was written I have received from Prof. Peck a paper entitled, ‘‘ Plants of the sum-
mit of Mount Marcy,” from the seventh report of the Adirondack survey by Verplanck Colvin, in

which the facts here referred to are repeated, pp. 405-406.

MOUNTAIN SUMMITS SIMULATING SWAMP-LAND. 131

and most strikingly illustrated by that well-known swamp plant, the
White Hellebore (Veratrum viride Ait.). This plant was observed in
low damp woods in the valleys, and along the streams, and again,
nearing the summit of Slide Mountain where it was growing in some
profusion. Close around the summit, too, were found, growing in
abundance upon the carpeting of wet moss, plants which at a less
elevation were rare or altogether absent, owing, obviously, to the
scarcity of suitable swampy land. Thus, Coft7s trzfolia, which had
not been noticed lower was abundant. V7zburnum’ casstnotdes, else-
where met with only in a small marsh at an elevation of about 1,900
feet, here reappeared, as well as Vola blanda Willd., Carex in-
tumescens Rudge, and other plants less distinctly confined to wet and
marshy situations.

I am not aware that the fact of high mountain summits simulating
the conditions of swampy lowland has ever been recognized as a
factor of special influence in the distribution of vertebrate life; but it
certainly appears to be thus resultant, at least in certain cases, with
birds. Besides abundant moisture supplied by enveloping clouds
‘and active precipitation, which completely saturates and is long
retained by the deep beds of moss among the rocks, the analogy is
further borne out by resemblances in the general character of the
vegetation, especially as contrasted with the surroundings. Instan-
cing the case of the summit of Slide Mountain, we see imitated not
alone the conditions but also the general features of low marsh land.
The largest trees are of very moderate size, and the prevailing growth
is of Canada Balsams of most diverse age, stature, and vitality. In
their exposed situation these trees, from a vigorous youth, seem
rapidly to decline, retaining but a weak and precarious hold on life,
and many have succumbed, gnarled and distorted from their strug-
gles with the elements. Interspaces thus opened in the general
growth admit the sunlight to an undergrowth of moss, ferns, moun-
tain plants, and occasional shrubbery That conditions obtaining at

high altitudes similiar to those of the mountain top now under con-

132 BIRDS OF THE MOUNTAIN TOPS.

sideration are not without special influence on avian life can scarcely
be doubted; and it seems highly probable that, in the case of several
species found about the summit referred to, and not elsewhere in the
same region, that their presence was due not alone to the altitude
per se but also to the collateral conditions above depicted.

Passing up the mountain side few birds were observed, but when
the high ridge leading to the summit was gained their numbers in-

creased, and about the summit the following species were noted :

Olive-backed Thrush, Black-throated Green Warbler,
Bicknell’s Thrush, Mourning Warbler,

Hermit Thrush, Purple Finch,

Winter Wren, Red Crossbill,

Black-capped Chickadee, Slate-colored Snowbird,
Canada Nuthatch, Blue Jay,

Brown Creeper, Yellow-bellied Flycatcher,

Yellow-rumped Warbler, Hairy Woodpecker,
Black-and-yellow Warbler, — Red-tailed Hawk.
Black-poll Warbler,

It seems strongly probable that the presence of some of these birds
was governed, in a measure at least, by the dampness and humidity
of the situation. From what is known of the breeding habits of the
Black-poll Warbler and the Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, it seems evi-
dent that low swampy situations are their favorite haunts during their
season of reproduction; and it is probable that considerations of hu-
midity in surroundings influence, in a greater or less degree, others
of the species mentioned in the choice of a breeding resort.

That so many birds should have found their way to so remote and
isolated a situation when it is not probable that all reached it by di-
rect migration, is an interesting fact, and may for a moment be
dwelt upon. In a recent paper by the writer* allusion is made to
the gradual awakening of the birds at the top of Slide Mountain.

* Previously cited.

BIRDS: GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS. 133

In watching, as there related, from the first ray of dawn on an elevat-
ed summit the effect of the gradually increasing light upon bird life,
the thought is naturally suggested that, the light of morning reaching
first the mountain tops thence gradually descending, not improbably
exerts an influence in attracting avian-life to high summits; for at the
early hour at which they stir, the birds, it would seem, must uncon-
sciously be guided upward toward light rather than downward to-
ward darkness.

The longer period of daylight, also, upon high as compared with
lower elevations, furnishes another point of similarity between such
situations and the northern habitats of those species which extend
southward on mountain ranges.

This difference in the length of the period of daylight in valleys
and on mountains is not improbably a cause of some variation in
color of species inhabiting both situations; and from the known
effect of the action of light on organic color, the varying period
of light in different regions would seem properly to be a matter
for consideration in connection with the subject of geographical vari-
ation of species, as well as their seasonal movements. In regions
where occur great seasonal changes of light, there, also, take place
the most complete seasonal color-changes in resident animals.

Before passing to a formal consideration of the birds of the region
a few remarks upon the subject of its Avi-fauna in general will not
be out of place.

Although along the more cultivated portions of the valleys the
familiar birds were not different from those which abound at the
same season in the valley of the lower Hudson, a marked difference
in the Fauna resulted from the absence or rarity of many species com-
mon in the latter region. Aside from those southern species now
well known to characterize the Fauna of the lower Hudson Valley, but
which would obviously be excluded from this territory, there were
absent other species, less definitely restricted in their northward

range, as well as certain Alleghanian forms which, from the latitude

134 BIRDS: GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS.

and moderate elevation, might reasonably be expected to occur.
Though some of these deficiencies are doubtless, in part, due to
causes other than those acting directly on the physical organization,
they furnish the investigator entering the region the first insight into
its true faunal character.

Passing along the Big Indian Valley, among the songs of the com-
mon birds along the way there were missed the notes of such famil-
iar species as: the Brown Thrush, the Warbling, Y ellow-throated,
and White-eyed Vireos, the Chewink, the Meadow Lark, the Great-
crested Flycatcher, and the Orioles and Cuckoos. Some of these
species were sparingly represented in the main valley, but none ap-
peared to regularly extend into the secondary valleys at this portion
of the region. Other familiar species, of which mention is made
beyond, although somewhat generally distributed were not abundant
and were rather restricted in their local distribution. Of the familiar
birds, one only, the Cliff Swallow, seemed to be more abundant
than in the region with which I have compared this. This bird, from
its numbers and domestic habits, was conspicuous and well-known
all along the valley, and far outnumbered the Barn Swallow, the only
other species which occurred.

Another feature to be noticed in this hasty comparison was a local
variation in the habits of some of the birds between this and other,
more settled, districts. Certain species which, closer to civilization, are
more or less familiar and confiding in disposition, often making their
abode in the close vicinity of man, here were rarely found about hu-
man habitation, although well represented in the wilder portions of
the valleys or even in the mountains. This was very noticeable in the
cases of the Wood Thrush, Scarlet Tanager, and Golden-crowned
Thrush; and less so with the House Wren, Purple Finch, Least Fly-
catcher, and other species. In the case of the Wood Thrush these
habits seemed to be quite general throughout, but with most of the
other species appeared to be more or less local, seeming to be di-

rectly dependent on the extent-of settlkement. Thus about the vil-

BIRDS OF THE ADJOINING LOWER COUNTRY. 135

lages of Pine Hill and Big Indian, some of the named species were
somewhat common and familiar, while in the main valley where the
settlers’ cottages were few and scattered their habits were as above
indicated. .

These facts seem to show a tendency toward primitive habits so
long as the original and natural predominate over the artificial in
surroundings, and the adoption of artificial habits (if the term may be
employed) when similiar conditions prevail.

Ere proceeding with the individual treatment of the birds observed
it may be well to glance at the character of the lowland between the
mountains and the Hudson, at the same time remembering that along
the valley of this river, not many miles farther down, occur, as regu-
lar and, in most cases, common summer residents, such species
among the land birds as: the Worm-eating, Blue-winged Yellow,
Golden-winged, and Hooded Warblers (/7eliminthotherus vermtvorous,
FHelminthophila pinus, FH. chrysoptera, and Mytodioctes mitratus), the
Yellow-breasted Chat (/clerta virens), the Large-billed Water
Thrush (Saurus motacilla), the Rough-winged Swallow (Stele7dop-
teryx serripennis), and, less commonly, other species of limited north-
ward range.*

In correspondence from Mr. John Burroughs, the following species
are given as occurring at Esopus-on-Hudson, but not inland among
the mountains :—

White-eyed Vireo (lVzreo Noveboracensis). Common.
Fish Crow (Corvus marztimus).+ Common; breeds.
Chewink (/7A2lo erythrophthalmus). Common.

Great Crested Flycatcher (A/yiarchus crinttus). Breeds.
Orchard Oriole (/cterus spurtus). Breeds.

Mourning Dove (Zexatdura Carolinensis). Common.

* See ‘‘ A List of the Birds of Hudson Highlands,” by E. A. Mearns (Bulletin Essex Institute,
vols, X—XIII).
+ The Fish Crow has not before been reported from so far north in this State, and in reply to in-

quiries concerning its occurrence, Mr. Burroughs sent me the following particulars: ‘‘ The Fish Crow

136 CANADIAN FAUNA ON THE ALLEGHANIES,

Mr. Trippes’ note, already referred to, on “Birds found breeding
in the Catskills,” makes mention of the following species, all of which
are further considered beyond: Regulus satrapa (Golden-crested
Kinglet), Sz#ta Canadensis (Canada Nuthatch), Axothura’ hyemalis
(Winter Wren), Dendreca Canadensis = D. coerulescens (Black-
throated Blue Warbler), Dexdreca coronata (Yellow-rumped War-
bler), Dexdreca virens (Black-throated Green Warbler), Fazco
hyemalis (Slate-colored Snowbird).

The wide faunal diversity between continuate regions indicated in
the above comparison of characteristic birds, is called for by the com-
plete and abrupt physiographical changes which give rise to the
Catskill range, the eastern end of which “stands isolated on three
sides by deep and broadly open valleys, as a mighty promontory, to
within ten miles of tide water in the Hudson River.”

How far southward the Fauna of the Alleghany range preserves
the Canadian characteristics possessed in the Catskills, and under
what restrictions and modifications, is an interesting question; but the
reply is not yet, although scattered notices of the occurrence in sum-
mer and, in some cases, the breeding of birds southward of their
usual range, in the Alleghanies, allow an insight into what it will be.

Apropos to this subject are some remarks by Professor E. D. Cope
in a paper entitled “ Observations on the Fauna of the Southern
Alleghanies ”:*

“Jn Giles County, E. Virginia, at an elevation of five thousand
feet, I observed in August, 1867, the following species of birds :
Funco hyemalis, Dendreca icterocephala |= D. Pennsylvanica| D.
Blackburnia, D. cerulescens, D. maculosa, D. virens, Mytodzoctes
Canadensis, M. mttralus [sic], Parula Americana, Mutotilta varia,

is common here [Esopus] and annoys me much by robbing birds’ nests. Last summer [1881] a pair
built their nest in a Norway spruce that stands in a thick grove near a gentleman’s country house
adjoining my place.” I am myself almost positive of having seen one of these Crows, in June, near
Rondout, perched upon a spile far out in the here shallow river; and also feel almost satisfied that,
on different occasions, I have seen the Rough-winged Swallow at the same locality, where un-
doubtedly it occurs.

* American Naturalist, IV, 7, 395-399, September, 1870.

CANADIAN FAUNA ON THE ALLEGHANIES. a7

Setophaga ruticilla, From the season at which these were observed,
they evidently bred in the locality in question. They were most of
them abundant.

“In the high valley of Henderson County, and on the Black, Rich,
and other mountains in southern North Carolina, in September,
1869, I observed the following: Yunxco hyemalis, Vireo solitarcus,
Dendreca coronata, LD). maculosa, D. virens, D. cwrulescens, D. Black-
burnie, Parula Americana, Mniotilta varia, Myiodioctes mitratus,
Setophaga ruticilla, These were also abundant, and no doubt bred
in the localities in question.”

Of the species mentioned of any direct value to the present con-
sideration, the only one which has actually been ascertained to breed
with regularity in the southern Alleghanies is the Slate-colored
Snowbird. Although it is very probable that with this species are
associated in the breeding season most of the others mentioned, the
evidence quoted is hardly sufficient to establish this. Again accept-
ing the Snowbird and, of the latter enumeration, the Blue-Headed
Vireo and Yellow-rumped Warbler in addition, all the species men-
tioned,—contrary to what most published records of migrations would
lead us to suppose, but which data is at hand abundantly to prove,—
enter upon their southward migration in August, most of them, in-
deed, so early as the middle of that month; therefore, the fact of the
occurrence of any of these birds in the late summer or early autumn
in the southern Alleghanies is by no means conclusive evidence that
they have bred there.

Most of the birds referred to, however, have been recorded as
breeding in southern Pennsylvania, although the fact appears to
have been very generally overlooked. In the Bairds’ * List of Birds
found in the vicinity of Carlisle, Cumberland County, Penn., ies

the following named species, of interest to the present consideration,

* Sillim. Am. Journ., XVI, 1844, 261-273.

IO

I 38 FAUNAL POSITION.

are marked as breeding :—

Sylvicola pardalina Bon. = Mytodioctes Canadensis Aud.
. virens Lath. = Dendreca virens Baird.
“ Blackburnia Lath. = Ee Blackburni@ Baird.
< zcterocephala Lath. = es Pennsylvanica Baird.
< Canadensts Lath. == a cerulescens Baird.

Vireo solitarius Vieill.
Picus varius L. = Sphyropicus varius Baird.

A distinct Canadian element in the Fauna of the south Pennsyl-
vanian Alleghanies is thus shown.

The facts hereinbefore narrated regarding the animal and vegeta-
ble life of the Catskill Mountain region are sufficient for a tolerably
full understanding of the faunal character of this geographical tract.
Considered in its entirety, the region, though of limited extent, can-
not be said to pertain exclusively to any minor Faunal Province,—the
totality of its life cannot be summed up in a single abstract term ex-
pressive of a distinct zoj-geographical relation. Between the Hudson
River and the mountainous parts of the region, where we can recog-
nize the influence of three distinct Faunez, one only can be con-
sidered to prevail in its integrity at any single point. This is the
Alleghanian, and extends over all the less elevated country. In the
lowland along the Hudson it is perceptibly modified by a southern
element introduced with certain species which extend up from the
lower part of the valley of that river where the influence of the
Carolinian Fauna is so strongly impressed, but passing inland this
Carolinian affinity is gradually lost, the Alleghanian Fauna, true and
untainted, succeeding, spreading over the greater part of the region
and passing into and up the valleys in its invasion of the mountain-
ous sections, but in its turn gradually giving way to a still more
northern Fauna,—the Canadian; it is not, however, before the high
mountain elevations are gained that this Fauna has completely suc-
ceeded and all traces of the Alleghanian, as such, are obliterated.
But even at the highest altitudes the Canadian Fauna, although

taintlessly, is not fully represented, for some of the most character-

FAUNAL POSITION. 139
J

istic Canadian birds undoubtedly never occur. But these are non-
migratory species, and it becomes plain, with this fact in view, that
the limited extent and isolation of the Catskill region renders their
absence in the face of favorable conditions easily explicable. The
higher mountain Fauna of the Catskills may therefore be regarded
as purely Canadian in character.

Between those altitudes where these simplified faunal conditions
prevail and the lower valleys, we may trace the two approximating
Faun in every degree of union. The result is that we find species
of totally different distributional relationship occupying the same
ground. This is easily illustrated : While such species as the Win-
ter Wren, Black-throated Blue, Black-and-Yellow, Mourning, and
Canadian Fly-catching Warblers, Blue-headed Vireo, and Slate-col-
ored Snowbird, occur certainly as low down as 1,500~-1,600 feet,
species of much more southern distribution, as the Chewink, Field
Sparrow, House Wren, Wood Thrush, Indigo Bird, Large-billed
Water Thrush, and Bluebird (named approximately in the order of
their altitudinal limitation from below upward) extend to an altitude
of from 2,000 to perhaps 2,500 feet.

Further details regarding the local distribution of species appears
in the following review of the birds, in which, with respect to a very
limited portion (already defined, page 117) of the great Appalachian
Mountain system, the facts regarding the summer Avi fauna will, so
far as brief but continuous and careful observation could discover
them, be presented.

As has already been said, the geographical scope of the present
paper is restricted to the southern Catskills. But as this section of
the region can claim the highest of the mountains, it seems probable
that few if any birds of the Canadian Fauna are regular summer
residents in the northern Catskills which do not also occur in the
southern.

Unless otherwise stated, all references to the region are to the Big
Indian Valley and the adjoining mountain slopes in Ulster County,

the whole section being included in the township of Shandaken.

140 SUMMER BIRDS.

THE SUMMER BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN CAT
MOUNTAINS.

PAMILY TUR DIDZA:: THRUSH as

The summer Fauna of the Catskill region lacks but two members of this
family of the full number of its species pertaining to the Eastern Faunal
Province of the United States, viz—-the Mocking- bird (iimus polyglottus
Boie.) of more southern, and the Gray-cheeked Thrush (//ylocichla Alicie
Baird) of more northern breeding range.

It can be said of no other region of such limited extent, that all eastern
representatives of the genus //ylocichla, excepting of course true 7. Alicze@,
are found as summer residents within its borders; much less that they all
breed within an area of a few miles. Among the Catskills we find in the
valleys, HW. mustelina and H1/. fuscescens, on the mountains, 7.’ zanus and
FH.” Swainsoni, while H.’ Bicknell inhabits one if not others of the higher
peaks.

Hylocichla mustelina (Gm.) Baird. Wood Thrush.

Apparently not uncommon, but showing none of the confidence or
familiarity which characterize it in other, more settled, regions. Here
it was found to be a shy, retiring inhabitant of the woodland along
the valleys and lower slopes, and except in the morning and evening
hours its song was not often heard. Once only was it found high on
the mountains. This was at an elevation of perhaps 2,500 feet, where
the refrain of a most accomplished singer reached me simultaneously
with the wilder melody of the Winter Wren.

Mr. Pearsall discovered two nests, completed but without eggs;
June 12.

Hylocichla fuscescens (Steph.) Baird. Wilson’s Thrush.

Common along the water-courses in the valleys and in damp
woody tracts on the lower slopes of the hills, but not noticed at a
greater elevation than about 2,000 feet.

A nest discovered near Summit, June 7, 1880, contained two eggs,
and the following day a third had been deposited. The situation
and position of this nest were rather unusual. It was built near the
border of a wood containing little undergrowth, and placed at a
height of about three feet, on the stumps of several closely clustered
saplings which, having been chopped into and incompletely severed,
had fallen over on one side. In the Big Indian Valley, Mr. Pearsall
discovered seven nests; the first June 3, with two eggs, the last June
12, with three eggs, both sets being fresh; the largest set observed
was of four eggs—June 10. Without exception these nests were

TURDIDA., 141

placed ‘‘about six inches to a foot above the ground, fixed upon
some dead branch or in a patch of fallen branches, generally but little
concealed.”

Hylocichla Alicie Bicknelli Ridgw. Bicknell’s Thrush.

Regarding this Thrush little at present can be said beyond what
has already been made public—by Mr. Ridgway in his introduction
of the bird,* and by the writer in the paper previously cited. Since
the latter appeared, however, the Slide Mountain was again visited
by the writer, in company with Dr. A. K. Fisher, and the bird met
with as before; but although a night was passed on the mountain,
and an afternoon and morning spent in exploration, with this bird
directly in view, a single specimen only was secured. This result
was owing to the difficulty of detecting the birds in the dense balsam
growth they principally inhabited before they had been startled by
the unavoidable sound of approach; and not seldom were they heard
singing at close quarters as secure as if out of range. Although no
one of this species was actually identified in the act of singing, cir-
cumstantial evidence seems demonstrative that a song must be at-
tributed to it which was neither that of the Hermit, or Olive-backed
Thrush,—at least, differed from the usual songs of these species, both
of which were to be heard singing at the same time,—but was very
similar to that of the Gray-cheeked Thrush, as the latter is heard on
its spring migration. This granted, the bird may be considered com-
mon about the mountain top. The songs referred to were, in fact,
like that, as I recalled it, of the type specimen of /7. 'Azckellz, which
was shot while singing.

The dimensions of the single specimen secured agree closely with
those of the two which were previously taken, and are as follows in
inches and hundredths: length, 7.22; wing, 3.60; tail, 2.90; tarsus,
1.20; middle toe, .67; bill, culmen and from nostril, .53-38. The
length of the original Slide Mountain specimens was 7.28 and 7.40

inches, but the latter figures are excessive as the bird was limp when
measured. The singular shape of the bill of these specimens which
was remarked upon by Mr. Ridgway, does not hold with the latest
taken example. In this, the bill. as compared with the former, is less
slender, with the base of the culmen instead of being depressed
plainly elevated in outline, so much so, indeed, as to suggest an

abnormality.

Hylocichla ustulata Swainsoni (Cab.) Ridgw. Olive-backed T hrush.

Not uncommon on the mountains, especially in the balsam woods
of the Slide, and in full song. An adult male taken at the top of

* «Descriptions of two new Thrushes from the United States.’’ Proceedings U.S. National
Museum, IV, 374-379.

142 SUMMER BIRDS.

Slide Mountain, June 15, 1881, and two taken on the same mountain

by Mr. Pearsall, June 7, 1882, are perfectly typical of the species and

manifestly distinct from the preceding. In connection with the lat-

ter their dimensions are of interest and are appended, in inches and

hundredths :—

Ad. 8 June 7, ’82—wing, 4.15; tail, 3.10; tarsus, 1.03; middle toe, .65;
bill, culmen and from nostril, .49—.37.

Ad. 4 June 7, ’82—wing, 3.90; tail, 3.00; tarsus, 1 10; middle toe, .68;
bill, .48-.37.

Ad. @ June 15, ’81—wing, 3 85; tail, 2.87; length of this specimen in
the flesh, 7.10.

It is possible that the earlier taken of these specimens were late
migrants representative of a more northern habitat; certainly they do
not show the reduction from maximum specific size that we should
expect to find in individuals from the southern limit of the breeding
range of their species. But with this bird decrease of latitude seems
to be nearly compensated by moderate increase in altitude, and a
specimen from another locality at the southern breeding limit of the
species is rather over than under the average size. This was taken
by my brother (P. C. B.), in the western part of the State (Allegany
County) at about the same latitude as the Catskills, and gives the
measurements here recorded in the order previously followed :—

Ad. 6 ? July 19, 1871—3.92, 3.00, 1.08, .68; 291-=ag

I have elsewhere alluded to a Thrush’s nest taken at the top of
Slide Mountain which, containing blue brown-speckled eggs, may
have belonged either to //. Swaznsoni or H.’ Bicknelli. Notwith-
standing the uncertainty as to the identity of this nest a brief de-
scription may be not without interest. It was built upon some
lateral branches of a young balsam, close to the trunk, about seven
feet from the ground. Moss had been largely used in the external
construction with plant stems and some dead leaves, the interior be-
ing finished with a lining of black rootlets. Several nests of the
previous year were similar to this, both in position and construction.

The three eggs were fresh and measured respectively : .82x.63,
82.64, .81%.65. These dimensions appear to be much smaller than
the average of those of 4. 'Swazzsonz, and smaller than any mini-
mum measurements of those of either this species or of AZ. Alicze
that I have seen. While one is nearly elliptical the others are more
ovate in outline, and all differ in shade and markings; but from the
uncertainty of their ownership further description is not called for.
A nest, supposed to be of AZ. ’Swaznsonz, was discovered near Slide
Mountain by my brother (P. C. B.), on June 26, 1873, which was
built about fifteen feet from the ground in a small beech-tree, and

TURDID& ; SAXICOLID&. 142
43
contained young and a single spotted egg. The latter, still in my
possession, though in a fragmentary condition allows a measurement
of .66 of an inch in transverse diameter.

Hylocichla unalasee nanus (Aud.). Hermit Thrush.

Mr. Burroughs’ remarks upon this Thrush (Wake Robin, p. 51)
indicate it to be a not uncommon summer resident of this region;
and undoubtedly it is somewhat generally distributed at suitable
places on the mountains, although apparently absent from the valleys.

Its song was frequently heard from elevated balsam woods, and
high on the Slide Mountain a specimen was secured. Being repre-
sentative of the more southerly breeding individuals of its species the
measurements of this bird are appended :—

Ad. é June 25, 1881—length, 7.10; wing, 3 52; tail, 2.85; tar-
sus, 1.17; mid. toe, .66; bill, culmen and from nostril, .53—.38.

Merula migratoria (L.) Sw. & Rich. Robin.

Common; their songs at daybreak showing them to be much
more so than observations at a later hour indicated. Two nests—
June 6 and 13, 1880—both but a few feet from the ground in small
trees by the roadside, contained young almost able to fly.

Mimus Carolinensis (L.) Gr. Cat-bird.

Common along the more cultivated parts of the valley, a few ex-
tending into the wilder portions about shrubbery bordering the way
and the woods.

Harporhynchus rufus (L.) Cab. Brown Thrush.

Mr. Pearsall observed a single individual of this species in the
lower part of the Big Indian Valley, though I failed to find it outside
of the main valley, where two were noted.

FAMILY SAXICOLIDA:: STONECHATS AND BLUE-
BIRDS.

Sialia sialis (L.) Hald. Bluebird.

Abundant along the line of the railroad, numbers being startled
from the telegraph wires by the passing train. Less common in the
Big Indian Valley, where a brood, noticed on June 11, 1881, were
stated to have been in their nest, in a hollow stump, a few days pre-
viously.

144 SUMMER BIRDS.

FAMILY SYLVIIDA:: TRUE WARBLERS—KINGEEA

Regulus satrapa Licht. Golden-crowned Kinglet.

Mr. T. Martin Trippe states* that he found this species breeding
in the Catskills, and says of it: “The golden-crested wren, I noticed
only on the summits of Round Top, and one or two others of the
highest peaks On the eighth of July, I saw several young birds ap-
parently not many days from the nest. They were attended by their
parents and hid themselves from observation amid the densest hem-
lock boughs. At times the old birds uttered a lisping sort of warble,
beginning like that of Dezdreca striata but winding up with a few
sprightly notes similar to those of D. v7rens. The young had no
notes save the usual faint chirp.” Near the summit of Slide Mountain
in 1880, I felt almost positive of seeing this species, but failed to get
as atisfactory sight or to secure a specimen. On subsequent visits to
the same mountain, although looked for, none were observed.

FAMILY PARIDA:: TITMICE OR. CHICKADEE.

It is hardly to be presumed that the Hudsonian Chickadee (Parus Hud-
sonicus Forst.) ever occurs in summer so far south as the Catskills.

Parus artricapillus L. Black-capped Chickadee.
Noted at various places from the valleys to the mountain tops.

PAMILY SITTIDAy NUTHAPCH Ess:

Sitta Carolinensis Gm. White-bellied Nuthatch.

Seemingly not common: observed on three occasions only. A
pair followed by their young were seen near Summit, June 7, 1880.

Sitta Canadensis L. Red-bellied Nuthatch.

Inhabiting the stricken growths of Canada balsams upon the wild
slopes of Slide Mountain, this species was met with from an altitude
of about three thousand feet up to the extreme summit, where its
characteristic notes were frequently heard.

FAMILY CERTHIID Al: CREEPERS:

Certhia familiaris rufa (Bartr.) Ridgw. Brown Creeper.
Observed at different localities on Slide Mountain, almost to the
summit.

* Loc. cit.

SYLVIID ; PARIDA ; SITTIDA ; CERTHIIDA ;—TROGLODYTIDA. 45
FAMILY TROGLODYTIDA:: WRENS.

Naturally the Long-billed Marsh Wren ( 7elmatodytes palustris Baird)
is wanting in the Catskills; though sections inhabited by it’are plainly
visible from the mountain tops.

The Short-billed Marsh Wren is of too uncertain distribution to be here
considered.

Troglodytes domesticus (Bartr.) Coues. House Wren.

Not uncommon, though more retiring and less domesticated in
habits than in more settled regions; its song, also, seeming often to
be more subdued On different occasions it was met with in wild
and uninhabited localities, and none were noticed domiciled about
the farm buildings in the valley. These facts may be taken as in-
dicative of the primitive habits of the species, before the advent of
civilization, and sufficiently explain the supposed diverse habits from

it of Audubon’s “ Wood Wren.”

Anorthura troglodytes hiemalis (Wils.) Coues. Winter Wren.

This little minstrel of the mountain woods inhabits the wildest re-
treats from the higher valleys to the highest mountain tops. Even
the summit of Slide Mountain had not proved too distant for its tiny
wings, and on this remote height Dr. Fisher came upon one at work
on its nest. The upturned roots of a fallen tree had been selected
as a building site, and within a cavity, extending behind a flat stone
inlaid in the perpendicular face of the earthy mass, the nest was be-
ing framed. The substructure alone had been laid, consisting mainly
of moss with a few dried plant stems; and these materials had been
disposed so as to reduce the natural entrance to a small circular open-
ing. This was two feet above the bottom of the concavity remaining
from the uptorn foundations of the tree, and was so inconspicuous
that had not the diminutive architect been surprised at work its
secret would never have been disclosed.

This bird is a common inhabitant of the mountains throughout the
Catskill group. Often it is found near the noisy brooks, often in the
silent depths of the forest; but in whatever situation, mossy logs,
rocks and dampness, with the negative requisite of absence of sun-
light, seem to be all that is necessary to render its happiness com-
plete. In such situations as may readily be imagined from these
given characteristics, it makes its home; and, though so retiring in
disposition and furtive in movements as rarely to allow a glimpse of
itself, small and sombre-hued, its voice continually tells of its presence.
There is an indescribable effect from the song of this bird peculiarly

146 SUMMER BIRDS.

in keeping with the wildness of its haunts; others may excel it in
more definable vocal qualities, but ‘‘ None sing so wildly well.”

FAMILY MNIOTILTIDA: AMERICAN WARBLERS.

As represented in the Catskills, the Mniotiltide constitutes an important
definitive element of the Avi-fauna, and is the most numerously represented
family of birds in species, and doubtless also in individuals, of the region.
Notwithstanding that seventeen species are enumerated as occurring, it is
probable that several others will have to be added; while some half a dozen
species which faunal limitations exclude from the mountain region proper,
regularly breed in numbers in the adjacent Hudson Valley. These have
already been named. Of species which were not observed Helminthophila
ruficapilla Ridgw. is of probable occurrence; Dendrwca pinus Baird, less so,
while several others are not improbably occasional summer residents.

Mniotilta varia (L.) Vieill. Black-and-White Creeping Warbler.
Frequent in the woods along the valley, but not extending far into
the mountains.

Notrr.—The Blue-winged Yellow Warbler (//elminthophila pinus
Ridgw.) is given by Giraud,* under Audubon’s name of //elznaza
solitarta, as having “ been shot during summer on the Catskill Moun-
tains.’ Even if this bird was found in the mountainous portions of
the Catskills it can hardly be considered as more than a straggler
there; but we may be allowed to suspect that the capture referred to
was on some of the outlying hills or the lowland bordering the Cats-

kills proper.

Parula Americana (L.) Bp. Blue Yellow-backed Warbler

Not uncommon in the wooded valleys, and noticed in the moun-
tains up to about 2,700 feet altitude.

Dendreca estiva (Gm.) Baird. Summer Yellow Warbler.

Seemingly confined to the immediate vicinity of the dwellers’ cot-
tages in the valleys, and noticed on three or four occasions only.

Dendreeca cerulescens (L.) Baird. Black-throated Blue Warbler.

Between the lower parts of the valleys and the higher elevations
of the mountains this warbler seemed to be generally distributed in

* Birds of Long Island, 1844, p. 67.

MNIOTILTID®. 147
suitable woodland, and excepting the Chestnut-sided Warbler was,
perhaps, the most common representative of its genus.

Three nests were discovered by Mr. Pearsall. One was in process
of construction, May 31, and nine days later contained four eggs;
another held the same number on June 12; and one found with a
single egg in the intermediate time on a subsequent visit had been
destroyed. The respective situations of these nests were: “ fully four
feet from the ground in a wild raspberry;” ‘in the crotch of a Hobble
Bush | V2burnum lantanordes | about a foot high;” about the same dis-
tance from the ground “in a bunch of beech sprouts.” Mr. Pearsall’s
description of two of these nests shows that a single type of structure
is not adhered to: The first nest was bulky “and not so neat a
structure as that of the Chestnut-sided Warbler, the outside seeming
a thick layer of dead bits of wood and fine bleached leaves, the cup
being rather shallow and small, and lined with fine grasses.” The
last nest found was “more loosely constructed, of fine hemlock bark
exclusively, depending upon the thick sprouts for its support. Mr.
Burroughs describes a nest of this bird from the Catskills * which was
“built in the fork of a little hemlock, about fifteen inches from the
ground.” My brothers, on May 31, 1874, met with a pair of these
warblers working on a partially constructed nest ‘‘in a beech sprout,
about a foot above the ground”

Dendreea coronata (L.) Gray. Yellow-rumped Warbler.

Not until my last visit to the Catskills was this species detected.
Although I had twice previously failed to find it, even at the summit
of Slide Mountain, on the latter occasion it was found to be a rather
common bird, not only at that elevated point but for some distance
lower down, and seemed almost entirely to replace the Black-and-
Yellow Warbler which had before been common there. The birds
were in full song, anda female which was shot showed evident signs
of incubating. Mr. Pearsall observed a pair on one of the lower
slopes along the valley.

Dendreca maculosa (Gmel.) Baird. Black-and-Yellow Warbler.

Found about Summit and throughout the Big Indian Valley, but
evidently much more at home among the balsams on the mountains.
At the top of Slide Mountain a nest_was discovered June 12, 1880,
built about five feet above the ground ina young balsam tree; it
contained three fresh eggs but was somewhat disordered and had
been deserted. Mr. HB. Bailey who examined this nest states that
it is so nearly identical with those of the Black-and-Yellow Warbler

* Locusts and Wild Honey, 1880, p. 258.

148 SUMMER BIRDS.

taken at the Umbagog Lakes in Maine, as to leave no question as
to its identity.

Dendreca Pennsylvaniea (L.) Baird. Chestnut-sided Warbler.

Perhaps the most common warbler and, excepting the Summer
Yellow Warbler, the only one ever noticed about cultivated land.
Though apparently not penetrating high in the forests it was, never-
theless, found in the woods, but principally about their borders and
in clearings.

A nest found June 8, 1880, amidst briers and shrubbery at the edge
of woods, contained four young several days old. Four nests were
taken by Mr. Pearsall between June ro and 13, all, a one on the
latter date with three, containing four fresh eggs. ‘One taken June
12, was commenced May 31.” With one exception these nests were
built in the forked stem oe a brier. The excepted instance was one in
which a “cluster of young beech sprouts in anopen hillside pasture ”
had been utilized.

Dendreeca striata (Forst.) Baird. Black-poll Warbler

This northerly breeding species was found to be common, in fact,
the most common warbler, about the summit of Slide Mountain,
though lower than a few hundred feet from this point it was not met
with. In June of three successive years (12, 1880; 15-16, 1881;
and 25-26, 1882) it was there present, and, on the last occasion
especially its characteristic notes more frequently, perhaps, than those
of any other bird, broke the silence of that lonely spot. That it
is there a regular summer resident can hardly be doubted. Though
from the exceeding lateness of the spring of 1882 its presence late in
June of that year “night well have been exceptional, the balance of
the evidence above given weighs strongly against the probability of
its having so been. As the Black- poll Warbler is, however, our
most dilatory spring migrant, and its southernmost breeding limit
has been supposed to fall far short of southern New York, some col-
lated data bearing on the duration of its vernal migration and the
time of its nesting period will here be apposite.

Pertinent to the subject are the following latest dates of its depart-
ure on the spring migration from points of the Middle and Eastern
States: Washington, D. C., June 1 (Coues and Prentiss); New Jer-
sey, June 5 (Gentry); my own record carries the time of its presence
near New York City to June 11 (1882; a female), but this instance of
its stay is exceptional, the record of other years not extending be-
yond June 4; Hudson Highlands, May 29 (Mearns); Connecticut,
June 2, (Merriam = Sage); Massachusetts, June 10 (Brewer);

MNIOTILTIDA.
[NIO1 149

eastern Massachusetts, June 9 (Maynard), and we have the same
authority for its departure from Upton, Maine, June 5; Central Ver-
mont, “only a few days in the first of June” (N. A. Birds), while
Audubon gives it as arriving in Labrador, June 1 to 10. As to the
data of its breeding we have the records of nests with eggs at Fort
Yukon, June 1 and 9, and at Great Slave Lake the same month. In
a paper read before the Linnaean Society of New York, an abstract
only of which has appeared in print,* Mr. R. F. Pearsall said of this
species that, on the island of Grand Menan, “ We found them (June 12,
1878) with full complements of four, frequently five eggs, incubation
having just commenced,” and also, that at the Rangeley Lakes, Maine,
a nest with five eggs was taken June 19, 1879.7

The facts above stated form a chain of evidence which strongly
supports the probability that the individuals of the Black-poll War-
bler found in southern New York after the middle of June were sum-
mer residents of the mountain summit they inhabited.

Dendreca Blackburnie (Gm.) Baird. Blackburnian Warbler.

Though I did not myself meet with this species, Mr. Burroughs
writes me that it breeds in Delaware County, just beyond Pine Hill.
The same author, in a delightful account of the bird life of a Catskill
forest, in “‘ Wake Robin,” page 49, alludes to the capture of one of
these beautiful warblers.

Mr. Pearsall observed an individual of this species in the Big
Indian Valley on May 30.

Dendreca virens (Gm.) Baird. Black-throated Green Warbler.

Not uncommon; preferably inhabiting hemlock woods, and scattered
sparingly through the deciduous forests.

Siurus auricapillus (L.) Sw. Golden-crowned Thrush.

Not uncommon in mountain woods; often its song was heard far
in the forest.

Siurus motacilla (Vieill) Coues. Large-billed Water Thrush.

Had we not been prepared by Dr. A. K. Fisher's recent announce-
ments t of the presence of this species in its breeding season at
Lake George for other records of its occurrence north of its known

* Forest and Stream, April 8, 1880, XIV, 184.

+ Since the above was penned Mr. Brewster has described a nest and set of three eggs of the
Black-poll Warbler which was taken by Mr. M. A. Frazar at the Magdalen Islands, June 23, 1882.
The eggs were fresh.—See Bull. Nutt. Ornith. Club, VII, 4, 253-254, October, 1882.

t Bull, Nutt. Ornith. Club, V, 2, 117, April, 1880; and VI, 4, 245, October, 1881.

150 SUMMER BIRDS.

range, the discovery of its being a regular inhabitant of the Catskill
Mountains would have been a matter of greater surprise. Though
the Catskill region is not forty miles north of the Highlands of the
Hudson where the Large-billed Water Thrush has been characterized
as a common summer resident by Dr. E. A. Mearns,* it was scarcely
to be expected that a species regarded as of distinctly Carolinian
relationship would be found in the character of a regular summer
resident under conditions congenial to other species pertaining to
a sub-fauna two removes northward. The seeming incongruity is
especially striking when we consider that not only do none of its
associates in the Hudson Valley, which with it there constitute the
decided southern element of the Avi-fauna, enter this region, but
several Alleghanian forms (already specified) seem to be completely
barred out, while others are much restricted in their entrance. As
explanatory of these facts are to be entertained the distinctive traits
of the species under consideration. Its preferences are decidedly,
at least Eastward, for active shaded water-courses, with rocky and
deeply worn beds; and it can easily be conceived how an inherent
trait of ascending toward head-waters in search of these conditions
might result in the continuance of a slight deviation from its usual
range into a more or less extended journey. Thus may strong
specific traits result as primary factors in distribution. In the case
before us, unless the bird be of less southern relationship than has
been supposed, this apparent innovation in the recognized rules of
the distribution of a species would seem to arise from the subor-
dination of physical regulations to specific characteristics and prefer-
ences. There are many localities in the Catskills admirably adapted
to the requirements of this bird—that is, in so far as appearances
permit judgment—and which unoccupied by it would suggest a vac-
cuum in nature.

There are birds adapted to the many characteristic features of
mountains and valleys, but the mountain torrents but for this species
would be left unavailed. We have, indeed, in the Large-billed Water
Thrush, our closest Eastern representative of our Czzclus of the West.

The apparent absence in the Adirondacks of any bird specially
adapted to the mountain water-courses seems like a deficiency in the
life of the region; and now that this species has been found on the
borders of that “Canadian Island,” it may not be too far in the region
of speculation to anticipate a time when we shall learn of it as a true
summer resident there.

Among the Catskill Mountains it appeared to be perfectly at home.
At the head of the Big Indian Valley, along the Esopus, the louder

* Bull. Essex Inst., XI, 159.

MNIOTILTID. 151

notes of its song rose above the roaring of the torrent, or a sharp
sound as of two impacted pebbles, and a darting object more rapid
than the waters, marked its flight up or down the stream. On the
occasion of my first visit, its fine song, so clear and rapid that the
waters might have taught it, in its nestling days in some steep terrace
beside their flow, was frequently heard repeated for minutes at a
time, high in the trees bordering the stream. An anxious note, doubt-
less from a female, whenever a certain steep bend in the stream was
approached, seemed to argue a special interest in the locality, but as
the birds were shy their movements could not be traced, nor could a
specimen be secured. It was principally to reverse this ill-fortune
that a second trip was undertaken, for the interest of the case de-
manded scientific verification that the Water Thrushes were the
Large-billed species. Although the next visit to the region was but
a few days later in the season, the species was silent; but an adult
male was secured.

The question of the route taken by these birds in gaining the head
of the valley where they were found is an interesting one. Though
the locality is not thirty miles from the Hudson River, and directly
“connected with it by Esopus Creek, the distance following all the
windings of the latter is more than twice as great, and with the last
seven or eight miles leading toward the south. However, this
course, or a modification of it, must have been pursued if the birds
came from the Hudson Valley. But, on the other hand, it must be re-
membered that this is the region of the head-waters of the Delaware
River, several tributaries of which rise close to the sources of Esopus
Creek. It is therefore possible that individuals of the species under
review ascended the Delaware River into the Catskills, and, led up
into a low mountain spur, advanced along another water-course, into
a different section of the region. Along the Esopus in the main
valley the species was not met with.

In this connection appears the interesting fact that the Large-
billed Water Thrush enters the Catskills, at least the borders of the
mountains, in a more northern and eastern part of the region. Mr.
L. S. Foster showed me a specimen which he had taken about seven
miles west from Catskill Village on the Hudson, and informed me
that he had noticed several individuals between July 18 and August
2, 1880, along a mountain brook near the same locality. This fact
reveals a tendency of the species to extend inland from the Hudson;
but whether the remoter parts of the region are gained from this or
from an opposite direction remains to be ascertained.

Siurus nevius (Bodd.) Coues. Small-billed Water Thrush
Mr. Burroughs speaks of having secured a specimen of this species,

152 SUMMER BIRDS.

in June, in the Catskills,* and writes me that he has taken both
species of Water Thrush in this region. Reference to its occur-
rence along the Neversink is also made by the same writer.

The song of a Water Thrush was indistinctly heard at a swampy
place in the mountains, beyond the source of Esopus Creek, which
was very probably that of the small-billed species.

This Water Thrush is doubtless a regular summer resident at suit-
able localities.

Geothlypis Philadelphia (Wils.) Baird. Mourning Warbler.

One of the most characteristic birds of parts of the Catskills, in-
habiting, chiefly, old cleared or burned-over land grown up with
weeds, briers, shrubbery, and saplings. Always conspicuously com-
ponent of these mixed growths are the Wild Red Cherry (Pranus
Pennsylvanica) and the Great Willow Herb (Epilobtum spicatum Lam.)
but the breeding-season of the Mourning Warbler must fall between
the times when the white flower-clusters of the former and the brill-
iant crimson spikes of the latter plant beautify the waste tracts which
are its home.

Few Mourning Warblers were noticed in the valley until about half
its length had been traversed, after which its song was almost con-
stantly heard until entering the forest. At the summit of Slide
Mountain, however, several were noticed, and must have there been
breeding These remarks apply, in strictness. to the seasons pre-
vious to that of the last visit when, except on the mountain top, the
bird was found to be uncommon, and in the valley but a single in- |
dividual was observed.

It will be remembered that the first known nest of this species was
discovered by Mr. Burroughs in this region.

Geothlypis trichas (L.) Caban. Maryland Yellow-throat.
Not uncommon about the more settled parts of the valley, seeming
to be replaced in wilder and more elevated land by G. Philadelphia.

Myiodioctes Canadensis (L.) Aud. Canadian Flycatching Warbler.
Though not abundant this species seemed to be generally dis-
tributed in suitable localities. Mr. Burroughs gives an account of
its nest.§
Setophaga rutacilla (L.) Sw. American Redstart.
Not uncommon about Pine Hill, but apparently rare in the Big
Indian Valley, and not noticed at all on the mountains.

* Wake Robin; ed. 1871, pp. 194-195, 220.
+ Locusts and Wild Honey, p. 123.

t Wake Robin, pp. 123-124.

§ Loc. cit., pp. 61-62.

MNIOTILTID ;—VIREONID:. 15

ie>)

PAMIGY VIREONIDZ : VIREOS.

Of our common Vireos, the White-eyed (l’. Noveboracensis Bp.) and
the Yellow-throated (V. flavifrons Vieill.) do not appear to belong to
the mountainous parts of the Catskills. It is not probable that the former
ever extends, unless it be fortuitously, far into the mountains, but it is not
unlikely that the latter is an occasional visitant.

Vireo olivaceus (L.) Vieill. Red-eyed Vireo.
A common and unremitting songster.

Vireo gilvus (Vieill.) Bp. Warbling Vireo.

This species was noted only at Pine Hill, where its song was fre-
quent from the elms lining the single village street, and at Big In-
dian; both places being in the main valley.

Vireo solitarius Vieill. Blue-headed Vireo.

Rather common in rich woods along Birch Creek near Pine Hill ;
extending, to all appearances sparingly, through the Big Indian Val-
ley, beyond which it was noted to an elevation of about 2,700 feet.

Although this species on its migrations inhabits indiscriminately
the low shrubbery of swamps or the high trees of the woodland,
here, its preferences were decidedly for the latter situation, and high
in the most lofty maples several were often to be heard at the same
time in full song. It seems inconsistent with these arboreal habits
on its breeding grounds that the nest of this Vireo so often should be
built low down. One discovered on June 9, 1880, was not seven feet
above the ground. It was built in the fork of a descending branch
of a beech tree growing in a lightly wooded depression leading from
a “sugar camp,” at the foot of a steep timbered slope. The four
eggs were perhaps a third incubated. This nest among those of our
Vireos most resembles that of /. favzfrons.

Two nests taken by Mr. Pearsall in the Big Indian Valley were,
one ten the other six feet above the ground, and contained respect-
ively, on June 5 and 8, three and four fresh eggs. The parent of
the latter nest sat very closely. and Mr. Pearsall, fearing that by
suddenly starting the bird from its nest the eggs might be broken,
found it no easy matter to drive it from its charge. In reference to
this Mr. Pearsall writes : «1 repeatedly pushed her with a stick, strik-
ing her sharply on the head, and finally had to bend a twig round
her neck and lift her off.”

As long since observed by Nuttall, the song of the Blue-headed
Vireo partakes of the character of both that of its Red-eyed and
Yellow-throated cousins. It has the prolonged interrupted warble of
the former, though more irregular and with greater range and varia-

II

154 SUMMER BIRDS.

tion, while some of its louder notes, especially when divested
through distance of their accompaniment, sound strikingly like the
song of the latest mentioned species.

FAMILY AMPELIDA: WAXWINGS.

Ampelis cedrorum (Vieill.) Baird. Cedar Waxwing.

Not uncommon. A nest built in a hemlock, against the trunk,
about seven feet from the ground, contained five fresh eggs, June 15,
1880. Descriptions of two nests were recorded by my brothers ;
one was built in the top of a soft maple about twenty-five feet high,
July 10, 1874; the other, found three days later, was built about ten
feet from the ground in an apple tree, and contained five eggs with
large embryos.

FAMILY HIRUNDINIDA: SWALLOWS.

As has been earlier remarked there are but two swallows which occur as
summer residents in that section of the Catskills here considered, though
at least one other is found in the immediate region.

Undoubtedly the Bank Swallow (Cofile riparia Baird) occurs at suitable
localities, and the Purple Martin (Progue subis Baird) may also be locally
represented. One species of the Hudson Valley is excluded—Sféelgidopteryx.

Petrochelidon lunifrons (Say) Lawr. Cliff Swallow.

An abundant, familiar, and characteristic species of the valleys.
The nests of a colony, located under the eaves of an old barn in the
Big Indian Valley, were examined June 17, 1881, and again the next
year, ten days later in the season. On the former occasion the closest
approach to the singular retort-shaped structure which this species is
so well known to construct, was a semi-globular mud shell with a
simple opening on the side no larger than was necessary for the ad-
mission of the birds. Most of the nests were of a still more simple
form, being merely shallow cups of mud, plastered against the per-
pendicular boards close up under the eaves. Among the different
nests every gradation between these diverse styles was to be seen.
In some of the cup-shaped structures one or both sides had been con-
tinued upward to the eaves above from behind forward to enclose an
opening of varying size in the front wall. Though the young were
well advanced the work of building was still being carried on, as
shown by fresh pellets of mud in some of the nests, so placed as to
reduce the opening; and it was evident that if building operations
continued until the young were fledged, the most open nests would

On

AMPELID# ; HIRUNDINID# ;—TANAGRID£ ; FRINGILLID. 15

be largely enclosed, and a second brocd would give an opportunity
for the well known “ bottle-neck” extension. In one of the more
open nests two adult birds were observed.

On June 27, 1882, the nests of the same colony possessed their
complete vestibular attachments. One examined at this time con-
tained four eggs, more than half hatched.

Hirundo erythrogastra Bodd. Barn Swallow.

Associating with the above-mentioned species, but much less
numerous. A single nest was noticed in the barn occupied by the
colony of the others.

Nore.—Observation has not shown that the White-bellied Swallow
(Zachycineta bicolor Caban.) can properly be introduced into the
present list. An inconsiderable extension of the limits within which
the latter applies, however, would allow of its being included, for
Mr. Burroughs has observed it in summer about the head-waters of
the Delaware River.

FAMILY TANAGRIDA: TANAGERS.

Pyranga rubra (L.) Vieill. Scarlet Tanager.

This brilliantly plumaged bird was not uncommon, but appeared
possessed of a wilder nature than at many places where settlement
is more advanced; and it was seen and heard more frequently about
the borders of the forests along the wilder parts of the valley than
elsewhere. In the main valley it appeared to be less of a woodland

bird.

FAMILY FRINGILLIDA:: FINCHES.

This family is more fully represented in the Catskills than any other ex-
cepting the Mniotiltide, albeit it gives to the region few species which are
not abundant throughout the contiguous country; only one, in fact, of the
character of a common summer resident—the Slate-colored Snowbird.

Species of the neighboring territory which appear not to enter the moun-
tains are, the Swamp Sparrow (M/elospiza palustris Baird), which, however,
is probably of local occurrence, and the Yellow-winged Sparrow (Coturniculus
passerinus Bp.), while the Chewink (Pzfz/o) seems to be but a casual vis-
itor. The genus Ammodramus is of necessity not represented.

Carpodacus purpureus (Gm.) Baird. Purple Finch.

Both in the valleys and on the mountains a common bird. It ap-
peared to be in full voice, but its song was so different from that of

156 SUMMER BIRDS.

the same species near New York City that I could not feel complete
satisfaction regarding the identity of the birds heard singing until a
specimen had been secured. Not only in the notes of the strain, but
also in the manner and character of its delivery was this difference
noticeable. In the Lower Hudson Valley the song of the Purple
Finch, in summer resident birds, is rich and voluble, with the notes of
definite character and number. We have, perhaps, no bird melody
more expressive of passionate emotion than the outbursts from this
species at the height of its breeding season. Especially is this true
when, as is often the case, it rises full of song high over the trees,
thence descending with undiminished melody to the earth. At such
times its song is repeated with a precipitancy which allows no per-
ceptible pause, and this strain may be supported for many moments
until, the notes becoming confused, the performer ceases as if from
breathlessness or absolute exhaustion. No approach to this exu-
berance of song was heard in the Catskills, all the notes of the species
there being weak and inexpressive and the songs brief and of uncer-
tain character. Somewhat similiar songs are often heard near New
York when the birds are passing on their migration; still, it remains
to be demonstrated that there actually exists the geographical variation
in song which the facts here given seem to indicate.

Loxia curvirostra Americana (Wils.) Coues. American Red Crossbill.

On the high ridge leading to the summit of Slide Mountain, Mr.
Pearsall observed a pair of Crossbills on the 7th day of June; “ they
were apparently feeding on young balsam-tree buds and were very
restless and wild for the species.” Onthe 25th day of the same June,.
Dr. Fisher and I, while separated on the mountain top, both distinctly

heard the unmistakable notes of a passing flock of these birds

Astragalinus tristis (L.) Cab. American Goldfinch.
Common.

Passerculus sandvicensis savana (Wils.) Ridgw. Savanna Sparrow.

In full song, and evidently breeding, in some high upland pastures
(about 2,500 feet altitude) near Summit.

Powcetes gramineus (Gm.) Baird. Vesper Sparrow.

The most common Sparrow; frequenting stony pastures and hill-
sides. A nest with a single fresh egg, June 8, 1880.

The song of this bird remains associated with the evening twilight
when often it faintly reaches the listener in the valley from far up
some barren mountain side.

Note.—onotrichia albicollis Bp. White-throated Sparrow. Among
the notes of my brothers, who were never in the Catskills earlier

sae

FRINGILLID&. ,

on

7
than the 29th of May, nor later than July, I find this species recorded
from the east branch of the Navesink. Though I failed to note the

bird within a few miles of the locality given, the record allows a
suspicion that the species may occasionally summer in the region.

Spizella domestica (Bartr.) Coues. Chipping Sparrow.

Common about cultivation; being replaced by the Snowbird, of
very similar song, in wilder situations.

Spizella agrestis (Bartr.) Coues. Field Sparrow.
Uncommon, although several times met with; but not at a higher
altitude than 2,000 feet.

Junco hiemalis (L.) Scl. Slate-colored Snowbird

Met with almost everywhere, except in the lower and more culti-
vated portions of the valleys, this species may be considered the
most universally distributed ‘bird of the Catskills.

In the valleys, it may be observed along the roadsides, or even
hopping about in the roadway like the common Song Sparrow; while
it is also found in the woodland glades, and penetrates the mountain
forests up to the highest altitudes, where no other ground nesting
member of its family attains. Sloping banks overgrown with moss,
ferns, and wood-plants, along the borders of mountain roads, are
favorite nesting sites. Data ‘of its nidification in the Catskills indi-
cates great variation in the time of laying, and also that two or more
broods are reared. On May 30 and 31, 1874, two nests, each with
four eggs containing embryos, were found by my brothers, and July
7 and "8, of the same year, two nests contained equal sets of eggs
perfectly fresh. In June, 1880, young only were found, but of great
diversity of age; on the 7tha brood, out of the nest, and well able to
fly was met with, and just a week later two broods were about equally
advanced; but on the 8th, a nest contained young but a few days old,
and on the roth, the living contents of another nest were about half
srown. A nest on June 20, 1873, contained two young and a single
egg. Ofthree nests examined by Mr. Pearsall betw een June 5 5 and 7 re
the eggs were, in one almost fresh; in another almost hatched; in the

remaining one in a condition intermediate to the other two. So far
as observed the number of eggs or young was always four, both at
the earliest and latest limits of the br -eeding season.

One nest was built in a cavity scooped directly beneath part of
a fence-rail lying on the ground, and was most effectually concealed ;
another was very similarly situated.

Melospiza fasciata (Gm.) Scott. Song Sparrow.
Common.

158 SUMMER BIRDS.

Note.—The English Sparrow (Passer domesticus LL.) does not ap-
pear yet to have extended to the remoter villages of this region; and
for the first time in a number of years the writer experienced the
pleasure of passing some consecutive days with this, now well-nigh
ubiquitous pest, out of sight and sound.

Pipilo erythrophthalmus (L.) Vieill. Chewink.

_ Except on my latest trip to the Catskills, when it was twice noted
in the Big Indian Valley, this bird was not observed. Evidently the
region 1s uncongenial to it, for there are many localities, including the

low growth tracts inhabited by the Mourning Warbler, which are
admirably suited to its habits.

Zamelodia Ludoviciana (L.) Coues. Rose-breasted Grosbeak.

A somewhat generally distributed species, much more often heard
than seen. It appeared to be a characteristic mountain bird below
about 3,000 feet altitude, and did not seem to be common before the
higher valley was reached.

Nests were found by Mr. Pearsall on the gth, roth, and 13th of
June, the first with three, the others with two eggs each. In every
case the eggs from the same nest were in different stages of incuba-
tion, some being perfectly fresh, while others were approaching the
hatching point.

This is another low nesting bird which appears to pass much of
its leisure time in the taller trees; and along the higher valley,
thence up into the mountains, its rich song from the most lofty tree-
tops, was the loudest and most voluble that sounded through the

woods.
Passerina cyanea (L.) Gray. Indigo-bird.

Rather common about Summit and Pine Hill; less so in the Big
Indian Valley, and not extending throughout its entire length.

FAMILY ICTERIDAZ: AMERICAN STARLINGS.

Of this family the Orchard Oriole (/cterus spurius Bp.), though it enters
the confines of the region, does not reach the mountainous parts ; and the
Meadow Lark appears to be confined to the more fertile valleys. The

Rusty Blackbird (Scolecophagus ferrugineus Sw.) was not found to be
present.

Dolychonyx oryzivorus (L.) Sw. Bobolink.
Common in the valleys about pasture lands and meadows.

Molothrus ater (Bodd.) Gray. Cowbird.

Certainly uncommon in that part of the region which was visited,
as a single individual only was observed—in the main valley. Mr.

FRINGILLID# ; ICTERID# ;—CORVID#. 159

Burroughs, however, speaks of it as common in the adjacent coun-
try, and gives instances of its imposition on Dendraca virens, D.
Pennsylvanica, Myiodioctes Canadensis, Vireo olivaceus, and Func
hiemalis.*
Ageleus pheniceus (L.) Vieill. Red-winged Blackbird.

This species was noticed from the train along the main valley, but
scarcely extended beyond Big Indian, doubtless from the absence of

suitable breeding places. “One or two” were noticed by Mr.
Pearsall in the lower part of the Big Indian Valley.

Sturnella magna (L.) Sw. Meadow Lark.
Noticed only along the railroad below Big Indian.

Icterus galbula (L.) Coues. Baltimore Oriole. |

Excepting a single individual noticed by Mr. Pearsall, nothing was
seen of this bird in the Big Indian Valley, although it was several
times heard about the villages of Big Indian and Pine Hill. Here its
notes seemed to be less vigorous and otherwise different than those
of the same species near New York.

Note.—The Crow Blackbird (Quzscalus purpureus) was not ob-
served at any part of the region, nor has Mr. Burroughs met with it.
Its name appears, however, in a nominal list of birds observed in the
Catskills by my brothers; but probably it was observed before the
mountainous portion of the region had been entered.

FAMILY CORVID4A: CROWS AND JAYS.
The close approach of the Fish Crow in summer to the Catskills has al-
ready been alluded to. The Canada Jay (Perisoreus Canadensis Bp.) we
would hardly look for so far south.

Note.—The Raven (Corvus corax carnivorus Ridgw.) must
now be nearly extirpated from the Catskill region. Mr. Bur-
roughs writes me that he has known of but one instance of its oc-
currence—at the border of Schoharie County.

Corvus frugivorus Bartr. Common Crow.
Cyanocitta cristata (L.) Strickl. Blue Jay.

The notes of both of the above species were often heard about the
mountains.

Nore.—An interesting account of the occurrence of the European
Skylark (Alauda arvensis L.) near Esopus-on-Hudson, on the con-
fines of the Catskill region, has been given by Mr. Burroughs.+

* Loc. cit., pp. 62-64, 70, 124.
+ Pepacton, pp. 150-153.

160 SUMMER BIRDS.

FAMILY TYRANNIDA:: AMERICAN FLYCATCHERS:

The Great Crested Flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus Cab.) which was
not encountered, being a regular inhabitant of the lower country may be
an occasional visitor to the mountains.

Tyrannus Carolinensis (L.) Baird. King-bird.
Uncommon far from the main valley, and not noticed distant from
human settlement.

Sayiornis fusea (Gm.) Baird. Phoebe-bird.

Not uncommon. Two nests, just completed, were found May 31,
1871 (P.C B.) Mr. Burroughs says*‘ nearly every high projecting
rock in my range has one of these nests, following a trout stream up a
wild mountain gorge . . . I counted five in the distance of a mile,
all within easy reach.”

Contopus borealis (Sw.) Baird. Olive-sided Flycatcher.

This species was found through the upper section of the Big Indian
Valley, and while exploring this region its notes were frequently
heard. Not uncommon along Biscuit Brook, a tributary of the Dela-
ware River—P. C. B.

Tall charred stubs rising from the low growth of burned-over tracts,
and dead branches projecting from topmost foliage along streams or
in openings in the woods are favorite lookout stations of this bird.
In one place where the woods had been cleared for a “charcoal job”
and the charcoal burners were busy below, one of these birds was
in full note overhead in the tall maples and beeches which had been
left standing here and there through the clearing.

Contopus virens (L.) Cab. Wood Pewee.
More common near the main valley than elsewhere, and seem-
ingly not extending far into the mountain woods.

Empidonax flayiventris Baird. Yellow-bellied Flycatcher.

This little flycatcher was found inhabiting with the Canada Nut-
hatch the extreme summit and immediate slope of Slide Mountain.
On the ascent. it was first met with at an altitude of not more than
3,500 feet, but not far above became common, haunting the growths
of thickly clustered balsams which clothed the damp mossy slopes.
Though it was evidently in full voice nothing was heard of the “‘ sweet
song” which has been attributed to the species. Its notes were low
and subdued, with asuggestion of melancholy, which, however, may
have been induced by the loneliness and often silence of the situation.

* Wake Robin, p. 130.

S

TYRANNID&. 161

Like the general character of those of all our Empidonaces, each
utterance was of two distinct but connected notes, though lacking
the abrupt vigor of the other species, and at a little distance the louder
and more prolonged final note was often the only one heard.

In view of our very deficient knowledge of the breeding range of
this bird, and the short time that we have known anything positive
regarding its nidification, the discovery of its breeding in the Catskill
Mountains is of interest, not only as greatly extending the area with-
in which its nest has actually been found* but also as assisting to
render clear the apparently misunderstood subject of its precise
faunal relationship.

Close to the summit of Slide Mountain, on June 26, 1882, its nest,
containing four fresh eggs was discovered by Dr. Fisher. At the
outset it may be said that the eggs were spotted, and generally sim-
ilar to those of authentic sets which have recently been described.

On the slope whereon the birds had made their home an abundant
growth of bright green moss invested the rugged configuration of the
surface and enfolded the scattered remains of trees, ancestors, per-
haps, of the young growth of balsams which clustered about the spot
and afforded seclusion to the little pair that had come among them.
The nest was built in a cavity scooped in a bed of moss facing the
side of alow rock. The cavity had been excavated to a depth of
two and a half inches and was two inches across. The opening, but
little less than the width of the nest, was nine inches from the ground
and, partially hidden by overhanging roots, revealed the eggs within
only to close inspection.

The primary foundation of the nest was a layer of brown rootlets;
upon this rested the bulk of the structure, consisting of moss matted
together with fine broken weed stalks and other fragmentary material.
The inner nest could be removed entire from the outer wall, and was
composed of a loosely woven but, from its thickness, somewhat dense
fabric of fine materials, consisting mainly of the bleached stems of
some slender sedge and the black and shining rootlets of, appar-
ently, ferns, closely resembling horsehair. Between the two sec-
tions of the structure, and appearing only when they were separated,
was a scant layer of the glossy orange pedicels of a moss (/olyér7chum)
not a fragment of which was elsewhere visible. The walls of the
internal nest were about one half an inch in thickness, and had doubt-
less been accomplished with the view of protection from dampness.

Professor Daniel C. Eaton, of New Haven, very kindly assumed
the task of determining the different species of moss which entered
into the seule ig of the nest and of the moss-bed in which it

* All records of the nests and eggs of this bird prior to 1878 are here ignored as being too dubious
to be entertained,

162 SUMMER BIRDS.

rested, and his investigation disclosed the fact that the mosses which
abounded immediately about the nest had not been utilized as build-
ing material. As determined by Professor Eaton, the species of
moss composing the bed were: AZypuum umbratum, F1. splendens,
H. Schreberi, H. Crista-castrensis. Those appearing in the nest:
Hypnum Mullerianum, H. Muhlenbeckit (?), Dicranum longifolium,
D. flagellare, Polytrichum commune, P. formosum. With these oc-
curred the following Hepaticee: Wastigobryum trilobatum, Scapanta
albicans, Cephalozia bicuspidata. \n addition were found among the
materials of construction, catkin scales of the birch, leaves of the
balsam, and fragments of the dried pinnz of ferns, but, as suggested
by Professor Eaton, the presence of some of these was probably
accidental. Springing from the verdant moss beds immediately
about the nest were scattered plants of Oxalzs acelosella, Trientalis
Americana, Solidago thyrsotdea, and Clintonia borealts.

It is rather surprising to find specimens of the Yellow-bellied Fly-
catcher—undoubtedly a bird of the Canadian Fauna *—from southern
New York to be of large size for the species. We might well have
expected the reverse to be the case, and the fact of maximum spe-
cific size thus obtaining at, so far as we now know, the southernmost
breeding limit of the species, illustrates well the close correspondence
between the conditions imposed by altitude and by more advanced
latitude without elevation, on organic nature.

The following measurements and comparison will show the relative
size of the Catskill birds with the largest examples of eleven specimens
taken on the migrations at New York.

New York Specimens.

Date. Sex. Length. Wing. Tail. Tarsus. Middle Bill,culmen and
toe. from nostril.
AUS: 20, 81; O45 2.63 2.32 64 33. sie
May 29, 79, 5.47 2.60 2.30 65 30. . ada
SU DAL ASO es Dee 2:63 2.25 .67 33 | .igae
US 2, J; od poe 2.65 232 68 32). aaa

Slide Mountain Specimens.
fale 2,20) 75°) 3.60 273 2.48 63 33 -44-.34
is 3G Oa, Oi. SEAT 2455 2A, 64 39 | aApaee
As compared with the specimens from New York those from the
Catskills, besides greater size, also present some difference in the

* That this bird has been suspected to breed in regions thoroughly Alleghanian or even more
southern in Fauna, is to be accounted for from the fact that the times of its migration are such as
might easily give rise to the impression. The species is one of the latest of the migrants to remain
with us in the spring, and one of the first to reappearonthereturn movement. Thus, in the neigh-
borhood of New York, where it occurrs strictly as a transient semi-annual migrant, it remains,
on the advance movement, sometimes into June, and is always to be again looked for early in
August ; and, though I have no actual July records, individuals doubtless sometimes appear by the
latter part of that month.

TYRANNID ;—TROCHILID#@ ; CYPSELIDZ ; CAPRIMULGID&. 163

proportion of parts, owing to the relative smallness of the tarsi and
toes.

The female parent of the nest which was secured is also large for
her sex and gives the following measurements, in like sequence to
the above :—

lene 26, $2, 2 5.45 2.47 B20 '- dae 2°) S8=.31

Empidonax Trailli (Aud ) Baird. Traill’s Flycatcher.

Seemingly one of the characteristic birds of the higher valleys, in-
habiting growths of shrubbery and small trees, preferably in wet
ground, and consequently not found on the mountains. Its character-
istic notes were almost daily heard. The late Dr. Brewer has re-
ferred to anest found in the Catskills by Dr. Merrill,* one of the eggs
of which was nearly unspotted.

Empidonax minimus Baird. Least Flycatcher.

Not uncommon. In the absence of suitable surroundings to the
dwellers’ cottages in the valley, they repaired to the shrubbery along
the roadsides and streams.

FAMILY TROCHILIDA:: HUMMING-BIRDS.

Trochilus colubris L. Ruby-throated Humming-bird.
Not uncommon; frequently observed remote from cultivated land.

PAMILY CYPSELIDAS: SWIETS.,
Chetura pelasgica (L.) Baird. Chimney Swift.

Abundant through the valley; and even on the slope of Slide Moun-
tain beyond an altitude of 3,000 feet, their rapid chatter continued
above the tree tops. Mr. Burroughs alludes to a case of their nests
being glued to the rafters within a barn,+ but from the abundance of
the birds in wild and uninhabited sections, it is evident that the
majority must here follow their primitive method of nesting; cer-
tainly the luxury of housekeeping in a chimney must be unknown to
them.

FAMILY CAPRIMULGIDA:: GOATSUCKERS.
Caprimulgus vociferus Wils. Whip-poor-will.

The Whip-poor-will was well known to residents, by whom its
notes were closely imitated. It was said to be frequent at the

* Proceedings U. S. National Museum, IT, 4.
+ Pepacton, p. 26.

164 SUMMER BIRDS.

entrance of the valley, but rarely to be heard over five miles within.
Mr. Burroughs reports it as common just out of the mountains.

Chordediles popetue (Vieill.) Baird. Night-hawk.
Several times noticed.

FAMILY PICIDA:: WOODPECKERS.

It would be idle to speculate on the possible occurrence in the Cats-
kill Mountains of either of the Three-toed Woodpeckers.

Picus villosus L. Hairy Woodpecker.

Not uncommon. Two were shot near the top of Slide Mountain
showing on the crown the red feathering of the young of the year;
though scarcely appreciable in the female, this was conspicuous in
the male bird. Another bird of the year was without indication of
this character.

Picus pubescens L. Downy Woodpecker.

Though several times noticed in the neighborhood of Pine Hill,
this common bird was not elsewhere observed.

Sphyropicus varius (L.) Baird. Yellow-bellied Woodpecker.

Rather common about the head of the valley, often descending close
to the ground on small trees and even bushes, and once noticed on
a prostrate log. Mr. Pearsall discovered a nest of the species, “ about
twelve feet from the ground in an immense dead pine stub,” which
contained six fresh eggs, June 1. ‘ The aperture was so small that
had I not witnessed the female bird go through, I should have thought
it impossible for her to do so.” For an account of another instance
of this bird breeding in the Catskills, see “‘ Wake Robin,” pp. 107-8.

Hylotomus pileatus (L.) Baird. Pileated Woodpecker.

With regard to this species Mr. Burroughs writes me: “I spent
part of last August [1881] near the head of Dry Brook in the south-
ern Catskills. JI there saw and heard the Pileated Woodpecker. Last
fall a fox-hunter of my acquaintance shot one in Roxbury, my native
town.” Mr. Pearsall writes of a pair of these birds which he ob-
served on a mountain slope falling into the Big Indian Valley at a
point about halfway through its course, that: ‘One alighted about

two hundred feet from me in a live tree whose top was blasted. The ~

pair were nesting on the slope I am fully convinced.” James W.
Dutcher—guide, whose dwelling is directly across the valley from
the point where these observations were made, stated that previous
to this time the pair had been very noisy and he had heard them
through the spring.

PICIDA ;—ALCEDINIDA ; CUCULIDA ; STRIGID# ; FALCONID#. 165

Melanerpes erythrocephalus (L.) Sw. Red-headed Woodpecker.

Although this fine woodpecker was not observed I have the au-
thority of Mr. Burroughs for its occurrence. Mr. L. S. Foster noticed
it August 28, 1880, in the vicinity of Catskill village.

Colaptes auratus (L.) Sw. Golden-winged Woodpecker.
Not uncommon.

BAMILY ALChe DIN LD4s > KINGEISHERS:
‘eryle aleyon (L.) Boie. Belted Kingfisher.
Found along the Esopus Creek. even where it had become a rush-

ing trout stream five or six miles within the valley. My guide com-
plained that they were too frequent about his trout pond.

PAMIEY CUCU PID AL sCUCKOOS:

Undoubtedly both of our Cuckoos are more or less frequent visitors to
the valleys of the Catskills.
Coceygus sp.——?

A Cuckoo, which appeared to be C. erythrophthalmus, was seen in

the valley, but escaped capture. C. erythrophthalmus was observed by
Mr. L. S. Foster in the vicinity of Catskill.

PA Mri ol REGID AL OWES:

Strix nebulosa Forst. Barred Owl.

This species was unmistakably described to me, and is, of course,
common, though I did not myself meet with it.

Scops asio (L.) Bp. Screech Owl.
One seen, attended by irate small birds.

Bubo Virginianus (Gm.) Bp. Great Horned Owl.

Noted by my brothers. The owls were not hooting at the time of
my visit and I failed to meet with it.

PAMILY FALBECONIDAS: DIURNAL BIRDS OF PREY.

Both Hawks and Owls appeared to be uncommon at the time of my
visits, and, unquestionably, others besides the few which are here recorded
breed in the region. Mr. Burroughs writes me that the Golden Eagle
(Aquila chrysattus Canadensis Ridgw.) is occasionally seen in the moun-
tains, and that the Fish Hawk (Pandion haliaetus Sav.) he has seen
along the upper Delaware River and lower Beaverkill.

166 SUMMER BIRDS.

Accipiter fuscus (Gmel.) Bp. Sharp-shinned Hawk.
One observed by Mr. Pearsall.

Buteo borealis (Gm.) Vieill. Red-tailed Hawk.
From the summit of Slide Mountain two handsome adults of this
hawk were seen wheeling in the air below.

Haliaétus leucocephalus (L.) Sav. White-headed Eagle.
From the summit of Slide Mountain an adult bird was seen pass-
ing high over the valleys.

FAMILY COLUMBIDA:: PIGEONS AND BOVE.

The Mourning Dove (Zenatdura Carolinensts Bp.) being a bird of the
outskirts of the region, may occasionally stray along the valleys into the
mountains.

Ectopistes migratorius (L.) Sw. Passenger Pigeon.

Information was received that Wild Pigeons formerly bred abund-
antly in this region, and Mr. Burroughs has written to the same ef-
fect, but also, that owing to the slaughter of both old and young the
species has become rare. In “Wake Robin” (p. 174) we read:
“Wild Pigeons, in immense numbers, used to breed regularly in
the Valley of the Big Ingin and about the head of the Neversink.
The tree-tops for miles were full of their nests, while the going and
coming of the old birds kept up a constant din. But the gunners
soon got wind of it, and from far and near were wont to pour in
during the spring, and to slaughter both old and young. This prac-
tice soon had the effect of driving the Pigeons all away, and now
only a few pairs breed in these woods.”

From a reliable resident I received the information that it is not
many years since vast numbers of Wild Pigeons formed a breeding
colony on the mountains beyond the head of the Big Indian Valley.
It seems probable that it is to this breeding ground that Mr. Bur-
roughs alludes (Locusts and Wild Honey, p. 118) in an account of
a trout-fishing excursion along the Navesink in 1869: “Here and
there I saw the abandoned nests of the pigeons, sometimes half a
dozen on one tree. Ina yellow birch which the floods had uprooted
a number of nests were still in place, little shelves or platforms of
twigs loosely arranged and affording little or no protection to the
eggs or the young birds against inclement weather.”

A single Wild Pigeon seen by Mr. Pearsall was the only evidence
furnished by recent exploration in the region of the present occur-
rence of this formerly abundant bird.

COLUMBID ;—TETRAONIDZ ; SCOLOPACIDA ; ANATDI. 167

FAMILY TETRAONIDA:: GROUSE.

The Spruce Partridge (Canace Canadens?s Bp.) is a conspicuous absentee
among the birds of the Canadian Fauna in the Catskills.

Bonasa umbella (L.) Steph. Ruffed Grouse.

Not uncommon, but their drumming at the times of ny visits was
rarely heard. A brood of very young birds was met with June 15,
1881.

Note.—The Quail (Ortya Virgintana Bp.), Mr. Burroughs writes
me, “ abounds in the town of Olive* but not among the mountains.

Notrre.— Family Ardeide: Herons.—Though several members of
this family undoubtedly breed in the Catskills, their local absence over
that portion of the region covered by the present list is explained by
the absence of suitable breeding-places. At least four species of the
family are regular visitors along the neighboring Hudson River,
others being of casual occurrence. Mr. Burroughs has observed the
Great Blue Heron ( Ardea herodias L.) * along the upper Delaware,
in Roxbury.”

PAMILY SCOLOPACIDAS: SNIPE: SAN DPIPERS, ETC:

It is not unlikely that the Solitary Sandpiper (Zotanus solttarius Aud.)
is of occasional occurrence in the Catskills in summer.

Philohela minor (Gm.) Gray. Woodcock.
Common.—John Burroughs.
Tringoides macularius (L.) Gray. Spotted Sandpiper.
Frequent along the soe margins of streams in the valleys. A

nest with four eggs, May 31, 1874.—G. AeO:

FAMILY ANATDI4: WATERFOWL.

Anas obscura Gmel. Dusky Duck..
Noticed by my brothers at Balsam Lake.

Aix sponsa (L.) Boie. Wood Duck.

A female of this species was observed from the train, by Dr. A. K.
Fisher, in a pool at the edge of woods beside the railroad. It is un-
doubtedly a common summer resident.

* This township adjoins that of Shandaken, and is principally of moderately elevated and rather
level country.

168 SUMMER BIRDS.

Norre.—As to the occurrence of other water-birds in the Catskills
we can only speculate. Mr. Burroughs speaks* of meeting with a
brood of Hooded Mergansers (Lophodytes cucullatus Reich.) at the
junction of the Beaverkill—east branch—with the Delaware River,
and our other Mergansers have been recorded as breeding still farther
south in the Alleghanies. Nuttall narrates + the discovery of a brood
of the Common Sheldrake (Mergus merganser Americanus Ridgw.),
on the Susquehanna River, in Pennsylvania, and both this species
and the Red-breasted Merganser (A/ergus serrator L.) have been
recorded by the Bairds { as breeding in Perry County, in the same
State Undoubtedly others of the Anatidz than those which have
been mentioned occur in the Catskills. It also seems likely that the
Pied-billed Dabchick (/odtlymbus podiceps Lawr.) may breed at some
of the small lakes, but it was not found by my brothers, by whom
several of the lakes were visited, and Mr. Burroughs writes me that
this bird as well as the Great Northern Diver ( Colymbus torquatus
Briinn.) he has failed to meet with on the waters of the Catskill:
region.

* Pepacton, p. 39.
+ Manual of Ornithology, II, 461-462.
¢ Sillim. Am. Journ., XIV, 1844, 273.

Caou ds 4o *uay)
wunont Td pueg xXxBitudoriy

"M3YHS S.JYIGN3IG

\

TRANSACTICNS

OP Whe

\ (e Ww

innwan Society of

Vo nBhuUuMeE Tw ea.

FRONTISPIECE—PLATE OF BENDIRE’S SHREW.

THE VERTEBRATES OF THE ADIRONDACK REGION, NORTHEASTERN

NEW YORK. (Mammalia, concluded. )
BY CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

DESCRIPTION OF A NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECID#.

(Atophyrax Bendirii, with a plate.)
BY CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

——_ o>

Published by the Society, August, 1884.

NEW. YORK:
PRESS OF L. S. FOSTER, 35 PINE STREET.
MDCCCLXXXIV.

Copies of this volume can be obtained of the Corresponding Secretary
of the Society.
Price, Paper cover,” . "$2.00
‘“- Cloth bindiis;. —. ; 3 00

Purchasers in Great Britain and on the Continent of Europe may be sup-
plied through W. WESLEY, 28 Essex Street, Strand, London.

OFFICERS OF THE SOCIETY.

1884--85.

President :
EUGENE P. BICKNELL.

Vice-President -

Ay Ko BISHER, M.D.

Recording Secretary :

ES: 5S. cFOSFER:

Corresponding Secretary and Treasurer:
NEWBOLD T. LAWRENCE,
4 Pine St., New York City.

Commtttee on Publication :
EUGENE P. BICKNELL,
C. HART MERRIAM, M. D.,
NEWBOLD T. LAWRENCE.

THE VERTEBRATES OF THE ADIRONDACK REGION,

NORTHEASTERN NEW YORK.

BY

CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

[SECOND INSTALMENT, CONCLUDING THE MAMMALIA.]

ee oa a = Shows
= _ - , ; =, 4 Ps =— es i
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es Most of the Biographies comprised in this Volume were read before the Linnza

iw, New York at different times during the winter of 1883-84. oe

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+

CHAPTER. IL

MAMMALIA.

(CONCLUDED.)

Virginia Deer (Cartacus Virginianus).

Moose (Alce Americanus)

Elk (Cervas Canadensis) .

Fossil Horse (gues major)

Fossil Elephant (£/ephas « Serine)
Star-nosed Mole (Condylura cristata)

Shrew Mole (Scalops aguaticus)

Brewer's Mole (Scapanus Americanus)
Short-tailed Shrew (Blarina brevicauda) .
Cooper’s Shrew (.Sovex Cooper?)

Broad-nosed Shrew (Sorex platy? es)

Hoary Bat (A ¢alapha cinerea)

Red Bat (A¢alapha Noveboracensis) .

Dusky Bat (Vesperugo serotinus fuscus)
Silver-haired Bat (Vesperugo noctivagans)
Little Brown Bat (Vespertilio subulatus)
Flying Squirrel (Scturopterus volucella)
Northern Flying Squirrel (Sc7zropterus volucella Paani s)
Red Squirrel (Sczeraus Hudsonius) .
Gray Squirrel (Sc¢arus Carolinensis leucotis)
Fox Squirrel (Sczzrus niger cinereus)
Chipmunk ( Zamzas striatus)

Woodchuck (Arctomys monax)

American Beaver (Castor fiber Canade nee

Rat (us decumanus)

House Mouse (AZus musculus)

Field Mouse (Hesperomys leucopus) . ;
Red-backed Mouse (votomys rutilus Capper)
Meadow Mouse (Arvicola ripartus) .

Muskrat (Aber sibethicus)

Jumping Mouse (Zapus Hudsonius)

Porcupine (Z7vethizon dorsatus)

Great Northern Hare (Zefzs Stee onas) é
Southern Varying Hare (Lepus Americanus Virginianus)
Gray Rabbit (Lepus sylvaticus)

ITO8-110
III-120
I2I-134
134-135
135-141
142-154
155-160
161-162
162-165
165-173
173-174
174-177
177-191
192-202
202-207
207-211
211-213
213-214

COONAN eS
(Of succeeding parts).

CEEANP IGE a iile

AW ES:

CHAPTER IV.
cp ce eas Degli Bee

CHAPTER V:

BAT RAC Le

CHAPTER Vi

Pilot Es

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 9

CHAPTER IIJ.—ConcLupDeEp.

continuation oF MAMMALIA. rrom VoL. 1, P. 106,

CA RIACUS VIRGINIAN Us (Bodd.) Gray.
Common Deer ; Virginia Deer ; Red Deer ; White-tatled Deer.

Derr are at present so abundant in most parts of the Adirondacks
that they outnumber all the other large mammals together, and this in
spite of the fact that during the present century alone hundreds of
them have perished of cold and starvation, hundreds have been killed
by wolves and panthers, and thousands by their natural enemy, man.
And there is every reason to believe that if proper game laws are
enforced, their numbers will not materially decrease.

This beautiful and graceful animal, by far the fleetest of our mam-
malia, roams over all parts of the Wilderness, being found high upon
the mountain sides, as well as in the lowest valleys and river bot-
toms. It frequents alike the densest and most impenetrable thickets,
and the open beaver meadows and frontier clearings. During the
summer season, which is here meant to apply to the entire period of
bare ground, loosely reckoning, from the first of May to the first of
November, its food consists of a great variety of herbs, grasses, marsh
and aquatic plants, the leaves of many deciduous trees and shrubs,
blueberries, blackberries, other fruits that grow within its reach; and,
largely, of the nutritious beech-nut. While snow covers the ground,
which it commonly does about half the year, the fare is necessarily
restricted; and it is forced to subsist chiefly upon the twigs and buds
of low deciduous trees and shrubs, the twigs and foliage of the arbor
vite, hemlock, and balsam, and a few mosses and lichens. In winters
succeeding a good yield of nuts the mast constitutes its staple article
of diet, and is obtained by following the beech ridges and pawing up

the snow beneath the trees.

ro,

IO MAMMALIA.

When the first warm winds of approaching spring uncover here
and there in the beaver meadows small spots and narrow strips of
ground between the snowdrifts, the new marsh grass is found al-
ready sprouted, and its tender blades afford the Deer a tempting
change from the dry twigs and tough lichens that constitute its win-
ter fare.*

From this time until the latter part of September much of their
sustenance is procured in the immediate vicinage of water. After
the snow has left the forests and the new vegetation has fairly start-
ed, they gradually work back into the woods, but return again in
early June to feed upon marsh plants and grasses, and wade or even
swim to procure the lily-pads and other aquatic plants that thrive
in the shallow water near by. During June, July, and August hun-
dreds of Deer visit the water-courses of this Wilderness every night,
and retire at break of day to the deep recesses of the forest.

It has been stated that they do this to rid themselves of black flies
and mosquitoes, but a little reflection will suffice to show the absurd-
ity of this assertion. For nowhere in the entire Wilderness are these
insect pests so abundant and annoying as on the marshes and in the
immediate neighborhood of lakes and streams. And since it is rare
to find a Deer above his thighs in water, the fallacy of this supposi-
tion is apparent. The fact is, that, for the sake of obtaining the
plants that grow in such situations, they submit to the annoyance of
swarms of insects most of which they would escape did they remain
amid the mountain fastnesses. It is true, however, that Deer, par-
ticularly at the South, do sometimes enter water when not in search
of food, and sink to such a depth that little save the nostrils and eyes
remain in sight; but whether this is done for the riddance of insects,

* I was particularly struck with this fact on the 29th April, 1882, while crossing from Big
Moose Lake to Lake Terror, in company with Dr. F. H. Hoadley. Here, along the banks of a
sluggish stream which was still bordered with ice eight to ten inches in thickness, we observed fresh
green grass already over an inch anda half high in small bare spots between snowdrifts two and three
feet in depth. The same day we saw a Deer standing on a mass of ice and snow on the shore of
Lake Terror, doubtless in search of food.

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. re

or for the refreshing effects of the bath, isan open question, and for
my part I incline to the latter view. Mr. E. L. Sheppard tells me
that he has on two occasions seen Deer enter the water and immerse
themselves until almost the entire body disappeared from view,
and this when not ‘“skulking,” or endeavoring to elude an
enemy. The Rev. John Bachman once witnessed this diversion and
described it in these words : ‘We recollect an occasion, when on sit-
ting down to rest on the margin of the Santee river, we observed a
pair of antlers on the surface of the water near an old tree, not ten
steps from us. The half-closed eye of the buck was upon us; we
were without a gun, and he was, therefore, safe from any injury we
could inflict upon him. Anxious to observe the cunning he would
display, we turned our eyes another way, and commenced a careless
whistle, as if for our own amusement, walking gradually towards him
in a circuitous route, until we arrived within a few feet of him. He
had now sunk so deep in the water that an inch only of his nose, and
slight portions of his prongs were seen above the surface. We again
sat down on the bank for some minutes, pretending to read a book.
At length we suddenly directed our eyes towards him, and raised our
hand, when he rushed to the shore, and dashed through the rattling
canebrake in rapid style.”*

Early in September our Deer begin to desert the water courses,
and before cold weather sets in there is a marked decrease in their
numbers in the localities which a short time previously were their
favorite feeding grounds. The reason is apparent: the marsh
grasses have matured and are now dry; the tender aquatic plants
near shore have mostly withered and decayed; and the lily-pads and
pickerel weed, cut down by September frosts, no longer remain to
tempt their appetites. They retire, therefore, to the higher ground
in the forest, which still affords them abundant subsistence.+

* Quadrupeds of North America, vol. II, 1851, p. 223.

+ The largest and best conditioned Deer I ever saw was a magnificent buck that Dr. F. H,
Hoadley shot at Big Moose Lake, October 31, 1881. Its stomach was full, containing a quantity of

12 MAMMALIA.

A large number of the Adirondack lakes are heavily bordered
with a dense frontage of arbor vite (here called “white cedar’),
which so overhangs the water that the lower limbs barely clear
the surface. Around many of these lakes all the lower branches,
up to a certain height, are dead, so that on viewing the shore
one is struck with the strange appearance of a sharp cut line, about
the height of a man’s head, extending partly, or entirely, around the
lake. Above it the dense foliage presents an almost continuous and
unbroken front, impenetrable to the eye, while below it not a green
sprig can be seen, the dead limbs and branches remaining in the
form of a broad belt.

The cause of this phenomenon long remained a mystery, and many
and amusing theories have been advanced for its explanation. It
has been supposed that some unusual and unknown agency. operated
to produce a great overflow of these lakes, and that the present green
line indicates the high-water mark of this unrecorded inundation, the
branches below it having been killed by the water orice. Were there
no other reasons for disbelieving this hypothesis, its absurdity is de-
monstrated by the fact that on many of the larger lakes the line is
confined to one side. The only other theory, so far as I am aware,
that is worthy of refutation, was advanced by no less distinguished a
gentleman than Mr. Verplanck Colvin, Superintendent of the Adiron-
dack Survey. Mr. Colvin’s theory is, that the snow which is blown
off from the ice, on some of the larger lakes, and is sometimes piled
in drifts in certain places along the borders, buries the lower limbs
of the cedars; and he thinks that this snow ‘in some unfavorable
season, becoming compact and icy, had killed the enclosed evergreen
foliage.” * The fallacy of this view is proven, I think, by the follow-

ing facts: 1st, branches on the opposite or shore side of these very

the leaves and stems of the ‘‘ bunch berry” or dwarf cornel (Cornzws Canadensis), a small amount of
wintergreen (Gau/theria procumbens), anda few leaf-stems of the mountain ash (Pyrus Americana)
while throughout the mass were scattered numbers of bee®h-nuts with the shucks on.

* Report of Adirondack Survey, 1880, p. 162.

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 13

trees are usually alive and green, which could hardly be the case
were the drift theory true; 2d, the line is often most strongly marked
on the shores of ponds that are too small, and too closely hemmed
in by hills, to afford the wind a chance to drift the snow about their
borders; and 3d, the foliage line is, in all instances where I have
observed it, perfectly straight, and exactly parallel to the surface of
the water, which could not possibly be the case were it caused by
irregularly drifted snow.

Moreover, it is now an ascertained fact that the green line is a
result of the wintering of Deer along the shores where it exists,
and the evidence on this head may be summed up as follows:
In the first place, it is absent from at least half of the cedar bordered
lakes, and is only found, of recent origin, in localities where Deer are
known to winter. On some of the larger lakes it is confined to one
shore and sometimes to a single deep bay, while the cedars about
the rest of the lake remain unmarred. Furthermore, it is a fact, which
can be verified by any one willing to take the trouble, that where the
Deer still winter in these places the snow which covers the ice is
literally trodden down by them, a well beaten path follows closely
the outline of the shore, and the stumps of newly broken branches
may here and there be found. The height of the line shows the dis-
tance that a full grown Deer can reach when standing on the snow
and ice. And finally, trustworthy witnesses affirm that they have
observed the Deer standing on the ice in the act of browsing upon
the low branches of cedars overhanging the lake. I regard all this
evidence as conclusive.

Though Deer are generally spoken of as nocturnal, they are by no
means strictly so, their habits, in this particular, being modified by
the environment. In localities that are much frequented by man
they keep their beds during the greater part of the day, and feed
mostly by night; while in the remoter sections the reverse seems to
be true.

The spot on which one lies to rest is called its bed. It is gener-

14 MAMMALIA.

ally hidden in some thicket, under the low branches of an evergreen,
or by the top of a fallen tree.*

They have no fear of water and, when pressed by wolves or dogs,
take to it as a means of escape. They are excellent swimmers,
moving with such speed that a man must row briskly to overhaul
them. Even the young fawns swim well, and I once caught ‘one
alive that had been driven into the lake. It was in the spotted coat,
and not more than three months old.+

The extraordinary sagacity of some of these animals, and the te-
merity, | might even say stupidity, of others is astonishing. As a
general thing a Deer is always on the alert; his eyesight is good, his
hearing acute, and his sense of smell developed to an unusual de-
gree. Under ordinary circumstances he detects the whereabouts of
man at a considerable distance, and even if abundant is seldom seen.
At other times, particularly when feeding on the margin of a lake
or river, if the wind is right he may be approached in broad day-
light by aid of a boat, and will only raise his head from time to time,
gazing at the intruder in a vacant sort of a way; but let the wind
shift a trifle, so that he gets a whiff from the direction of the boat,
and he is off in an instant. Along the borders of the Wilderness a
Deer will sometimes join a group of cows or sheep at pasture, and.
follow them home within gunshot of the house. Nota few have met
their death in this way.

During the deep snows of our severer winters Deer are apt to

* While on a snow-shoe-tramp from Big Otter to Big Moose lake, in January, 1883, I
counted upwards of forty Deer beds—mere depressions in the snow. One only was in an exposed
position, being in a little opening alongside a maple sapling. With this single exception, ak were
under the shelter of small spruce and balsam trees, the space between the bed and the overhang-
ing branches, loaded down with ice and snow, being in most cases barely sufficient to admit the
animal.

+ In Forest and Stream for Dec. 6, 1883 (vol. XXI, no. 19, p. 362), occurs the following :
‘* Deer at Sea.—Portland, Me., Nov. 29.—The British schooner Howard came in yesterday with
one of Howard Knowlton’s deer on board, which had been picked up about five miles out at sea.
The animal escaped from the garden on Peak’s Island last summer, and had not been seen since
probably having kept in the woods at the lower end of the island. This is the biggest feat of cap
turing deer in the water on record.”

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. I

S|

congregate and remain in one locality till the food supply in the im-
mediate vicinity is exhausted, when they move off to some other
place. By working to and fro in search of browse the snow becomes
much trampled, and pathways are beaten in various directions.
These places are called yards, but they fall far short of the regular
enclosures, walled in by deep snow, that we so often read about, and
even see pictured under this head. They afford the much persecuted
animals no shelter or protection, for if discovered by either the pan-
ther or the infamous “crust hunter,” they become grave-yards for
many. Mr. Verplanck Colvin, speaking of one he found on the south
side of Seventh Lake Mountain, February 15, 1877, said: “It was
impossible to estimate the number of Deer which had occupied this
yard, as they had fled at our approach, plunging into the deep snow
below. The ground of this central area resembled a sheep yard in
winter, the forms of the Deer being plainly discernible in the beds of
snow, in which they had slept, on every side.

‘Here we were startled by the sight of the fresh tracks of a
panther or cougar, which evidently made his home in this abode of
plenty ; and shortly thereafter we found the body of a Deer freshly
killed, and shockingly torn and mutilated. The guides were now all
excitement, and followed the cougar’s trail eagerly. In less than
thirty minutes a shout announced that he had been encountered, and
rushing forward to the southern front of the plateau I came upon
the monstrous creature, coolly defiant, standing at the brow of a
precipice on some dead timber, little more than twenty feet from
where I stood. Quickly loading the rifle, I sent a bullet through
his brain, and as the smoke lifted, saw him struggling in the fearful
convulsions of death, till finally precipitated over the cliffs he disap-
peared from sight in the depths below.”

It is stated by several writers that the Deer delights in destroying

snakes. Dr. Harlan thus speaks of this proclivity :—

* Report of Adirondack Survey, 1880, pp. 159-160.

16 MAMMALIA.

« This species displays great enmity towards the rattlesnake, which
enemy they attack and destroy with singular dexterity and courage ;
when the Deer discover one of these reptiles, they leap into the air
to a great distance above it, and descend with their four feet brought
together, forming a solid square, and light on the snake with their
whole weight, when they immediately bound away; they return and
repeat the same manceuvres until their enemy is completely

destroyed.” *
Antlers.

The branching and gracefully curved antlers which adorn the heads
of the bucks, and contribute so largely to the elegant appearance of
the animal, are shed and renewed every year. Their growth is so
rapid that the full size is usually reached in about three months, and ~
they fall off about four months afterward. They are first seen with
us, as a rule, about the middle of May, appearing as soft, dark-col-
ored and rapidly elongating vascular excrescences. They harden
from below upwards, and by the time the growth is complete all but
the tips is well ossified. The soft, skin-like material, called the vel-
vet, with which they are covered, now begins to peel off in irregular
strips and shreds, and by the early part or middle of September the
horns are generally clean. The velvet does not come away of itself,
but is rubbed and scraped off against shrubs and small trees, as if
the antlers itched at the period of maturity. The Hon. Judge Caton,
of Ottawa, Illinois, whose facilities for observation in this field have
rarely been equalled, makes the following statement, which will, by
many, be received with surprise: ‘‘The evidence, derived from
a very great multitude of observations, made through a course of
years, is conclusive that nature prompts the animal to denude its ant-
lers of their covering, at a certain period of its growth, while yet

the blood has as free access to that covering as it ever had.” +

* Fauna Americana, 1825, p. 242.

+ The Antelope and Deer of America. By John Dean Caton, LLL. D., 1877, p. 172.

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. Iv
Seasonal Changes in Pelage.

Descriptions of the pelages of our mammals do not fall within the
scope of the present work; but the seasonal changes in the coat of
the Deer have so much to do with its life history that a brief glance
at the distinctive features of these changes is necessary. Our Deer
shed their coats twice each year, in June and September; and, from
the general appearance of the pelage, are said to be in the ved coat in
summer, and in the é/we or gray coat during the rest of the year. The
gray is merely the d/we after it has become old and worn, for in ma-
turing it loses the handsome blue appearance that characterizes the
first few weeks of its growth. These seasonal changes are not con-
fined to color alone, for there is an equally radical difference in the
length and texture of the hair. In summer it is fine and short, and
lacks the wavy look that is always noticeable at other times. In
winter it is long and coarse, has a crinkled appearance, and the indi-
vidual hairs are so large and light that the animal will float in water.*

Judge Caton, whose spacious Deer parks and carefully recorded
observations have contributed so largely to our knowledge of this
species, has published the most accurate, detailed, and complete ac-
count of the changes of pelage, that has ever appeared in print.
From his extended remarks upon this subject I quote the following
brief passages : ‘The change from the summer to the winter coat is
gradual, the new displacing the old by dislodging the hairs promis-
cuously, till they become so thin that the new coat is seen through
the old. This is not simultaneous over the whole animal, for the
neck and shoulders may be clothed entirely with the new dress,
while the old still prevails on the thighs and rump; or the winter
coat may have replaced the old on the back, while the belly still

shows only the summer pelage. When the winter has replaced

* It must not be forgotten, however, that Deer are commonly poor in summer, and fat in autumn
and early winter. Hence, the later in the season the more nearly will the specific gravity of the
animal approach that of water. Consequently, a much smaller amount of buoyant material will
suffice to float the animal in October and November, than in July, August, and September.

18 MAMMALIA.

the summer garb, the hairs are short, fine, and soft; but they
rapidly grow in length and diameter, and undergo the changes of
color peculiar to the species. At first they lie down smoothly, but
presently the diameter becomes so great, that they force each other
up to a more vertical position, or at right angles to the skin. As
the diameters increase, the cavities within enlarge and become filled
with a very light pith, and they become brittle and lose their elas-
ticity, so that the integrity of the walls is destroyed when sharply
bent, and they remain in the given position.’ *

The exact period of shedding and of renewal of the coat varies
somewhat from year to year; and it does not always take place at the
same time in all the Deer of the region, during the same season. It
evidently depends in great measure, if not wholly, upon the condition
of the animal at the time of the moult, and this is determined mainly
by the way the Deer wintered. After severe winters many are poor
and ill conditioned, and they do not put on the ved coat till late in
June, or even till the first of July,—the é/ze being correspondingly
delayed. If, on the other hand, the winter has been a mild one, and
the supply of beech-nuts large, the Deer have probably wintered well,
and come out fat and healthy in the spring. In this case they shed
the old gray coats early, and the ved may be seen covering a large
part of the animal by the middle of June, or even earlier. These
Deer assume the é/we coat very early, and the change may be well
advanced by the last of August.

Deer rut in November, the season commonly extending from the
latter part of October till the first week in December. Ass this period
approaches, the necks of the bucks become enormously enlarged,t
and their whole demeanor is changed. Instead of treading cautious

ly through the forest they now rush wildy about, tracking the does

* Antelope and Deer of America, pp. 126-127.

+ As early as the last week in October I measured the neck of a buck that was 30 inches (762mm),
in circumference, only ten inches behind the ears. The maximum development is attained about
the middle of November.

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS, 19

by the scent; and when two or more bucks meet, fierce conflicts en-
sue. In these engagements their antlers sometimes become inter-
locked, so that the combatants cannot free themselves, and both must
inevitably perish. My father has a set of locked horns that were
found, with the carcasses attached, frozen in the ice on Pine Creek,
in Lewis County, several winters ago. The body of the larger buck
was in fair condition, while that of the smaller was much emaciated,
showing that the larger and more powerful had succeeded in forcing
his adversary's head to one side so that he could browse a little.

Audubon and Bachman state that they once saw three pairs of
horns thus interlocked. What a wretched trio this must have been,
slowly starving in the midst of plenty |!

At this season the bucks not only fight amongst themselves, but
occasionally attack man, and more than one unfortunate person has
been gored to death by them. In battle they make use of their horns,
and also of the fore feet, whose sharp hoofs are capable of inflicting
terrible wounds. I was once sitting quietly on a log in a Deer park
when a buck approached, and, making asudden spring, dealt me such
a powerful blow on the head, with the hoofs of his fore feet, as to ren-
der me unconscious. No sooner was | thrown upon the ground than
the vicious beast sprang upon me, and would doubtless have killed me
outright had it not been for the intervention of a man who rushed at
him with a club and finally drove him off. Both my father and myself
have been knocked flat upon the ground by being struck in the ab-
domen by the fore feet of a very harmless looking doe.

As a rule, two fawns are born at a time, one being the exception.
Most of them are brought forth in May, a few being dropped as early
as the latter part of April, while others are postponed until the first
week in June. They are at first spotted, the spots usually remaining
about four months and disappearing in September, when both old and
young change their coats. Before the moult takes place they may
fairly be regarded as one of the most beautiful of North American

20 MAMMALIA.

mammals, and their graceful and sprightly movements cannot fail to
elicit admiration.

The clear white spots are set in a ground of rich bay, and the con-
trast is heightened, to use the language of Judge Caton, by the animal’s
“exceedingly bright eye, erect attitude, elastic movement, and viva-
cious appearance. . . . The highest perfection of graceful motion
is seen in the fawn of but a month or two old, after it has commenced
following its mother through the grounds. It is naturally very timid,
and is alarmed at the sight of man, and when it sees its dam go bold-
ly up to him and take food from his hand it manifests both appre-
hension and surprise, and sometimes something akin to displeasure.
I have seen one standing a few rods away, face me boldly and stamp
his little foot, in a fierce and threatening way, as if he would say: ‘If
you hurt my mother I will avenge the insult on the spot.’ Ordi-
narily it will stand with its head elevated to the utmost; its ears erect
and projecting somewhat forward; its eye flashing, and raise one
fore foot and suspend it for a few moments, and then trot off and
around at a safe distance with a measured pace, which is not flight,
and with a grace and elasticity which must be seen to be appreciated,
for it quite defies verbal description. A foot is raised from the
ground so quickly that you hardly see it, it seems poised in the air
for an instant and is then so quietly and even tenderly dropped, and
again so instantly raised that you are in doubt whether it even
touched the ground, and, if it did, you are sure it would not crush
the violet on which it fell.’”*

Fawns are readily tamed, in fact become tame of themselves, if much
handled, in an astonishingly short time; and Ihave known one to follow
its keeper, and even bleat for him, when out of sight, within three or
four days after its capture. At this tender age they display neither
judgment nor common sense in the selection of food, devouring al-
most anything that falls in their way which they are able to swallow.

* Antelope and Deer of America, p. 155.

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 724

Bits of newspapers, old rags, and pieces of boots and shoes are seized
and disposed of with as much apparent eagerness as bread and but-
ter or lily-pads; and I once saw a fawn eat a box of chewing tobacco
given it by an unprincipled visitor. It died next day.

The flesh of the Deer is juicy, tender, and well flavored, and is the
most easily digested of meats. Its good qualities are too well known
to require further comment.

The hide is put to a variety of uses, the most important, with us,
being the manufacture of gloves and moccasins.

Our Deer are much larger than those of the South and Southwest,
adult well-conditioned bucks averaging from 200 to 225 lbs. Avoir-
dupois in weight, and exceptionally large ones being much heavier.
Hence the Adirondack Deer is more than double the size and weight
of the same species in Florida.

I have taken great pains to ascertain, approximately, the number
of Deer annually slain in this Wilderness, but with indifferent suc-
cess. It is a low estimate to state that from five to eight hundred
have been killed here yearly for the past ten years. How much
longer their numbers can withstand this enormous drain is an open
question.

On the 3d of July, 1609, Samuel de Champlain ascended the River
Richelieu and entered the lake that now bears his name. In his
narrative of this memorable journey he speaks thus of the animals
found upon the island at the foot of the lake : ‘* Here are a number
of beautiful, but low islands filled with very fine woods and prairies,
a quantity of game and wild animals, such as stags, deer, fawns, roe-
bucks, bears, and other sorts of animals that come from the mainland
to the said islands. We caught a quantity of them. There is also
quite a number of Beavers, as well in the river as in several other
streams which fall into it. These parts, though agreeable, are not

inhabited by any Indians, in consequence of their wars.” *

* Documentary History of New York, vol. IT], p. 5.

Die MAMMALIA.

Pennant says, that 25.027 hides were exported from New York
and Pennsylvania in the sale of 1764. (Arctic Zoology, vol. I, 1792,

P- 33-)
Spike-Horn Bucks.

The matter of ‘ Spike-horn Bucks,” though somewhat threadbare,
deserves mention in this connection from the circumstance that the
supposed variety was first described from the Adirondacks. In a
note in the American Naturalist for December, 1869 (vol. III, No.
10, pp. 552-553), a writer observed that he had hunted in the Adi-
rondacks for twenty-one years, and goes on to say: ‘‘ About fourteen
years ago, as nearly as I can remember, I first began to hear of
Spike-horn Bucks. The stories about them multiplied, and they evi-
dently became more and more common from year to year. About
five years ago I shot one of these animals, a large buck with spike-
horns, on Louis Lake. In September, 1867, I shot another, a three
year old buck with spike-horns, on Cedar Lakes. These Spike-horn
Bucks are now frequently shot in all that portion of the Adirondacks
south of Raquette Lake. I presume the same is true north of Ra-
quette Lake, but of this latter region I cannot speak from personal
observation, having visited it only once.

“The spike-horn differs greatly from the common antler of the
C. Virgéuianus. It consists of a single spike, more slender than the
antler, and scarcely half so long, projecting forward from the brow,
and terminating in a very sharp point. It gives a considerable ad-
vantage to its possessor over the common buck. Besides enabling
him to run more swiftly through the thick woods and underbrush
(every hunter knows that does and yearling bucks run much more
rapidly than the large bucks when armed with their cumbrous ant-
lers {!]), the spike-horn is a more effective weapon than the common
antler. With this advantage the Spike-horn Bucks are gaining upon
the common bucks, and, may, in time, entirely supersede them in the
Adirondacks. Undoubtedly the first Spike-horn Buck was merely an

accidental freak of nature. But his spike-horns gave him an advan-

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 23

tage, and enabled him to propagate his peculiarity. His descend-
ants, having a like advantage, have propagated the peculiarity in a
constantly increasing ratio, till they are slowly crowding the antlered
Deer from the region they inhabit.” *

The foregoing note contains several inaccuracies of statement,
and the writer's deductions are wholly erroneous. It was very justly
criticised by Mr. W. J. Hays in the Waturalist for May, 1870 (pp.
188-189). Further remarks and discussions may be found in the
same Journal, vol. IV, pp. 442-443, 762-763; and vol. V, pp. 250-
251. The subject is now well understood, and the Hon. Judge Caton
has presented the facts of the case with such accuracy and concise-
ness that I cannot do better than transcribe his own words :—

“Tt has long been a prevalent opinion among hunters, and to some
extent has been adopted by naturalists, that a race of common Deer,
the adults of which have antlers without branches, have established
themselves in the northeastern part of the United States and in Can-
ada, whence they are driving out the prong-antlered bucks.

“This is a matter of the greatest scientific importance, and I have
taken pains to investigate it to my satisfaction, and am entirely con-
vinced that it is a popular error, founded upon incomplete observa-
tions. The sfzke bucks found in the Adirondacks are all yearling
bucks with their first antlers. The universal testimony, so far as I
have been able to gather it, is, that they are smaller than the average

of the prong-antlered bucks, and that their spikes vary in length

* The above passage fell under the ever-searching eye of that eminent naturalist and indefatiga-
ble collector of facts, the late and much lamented Charles Darwin, whose massive intellect and
exhaustive researches have revolutionized Natural Science and mark a new era in the progress of
knowledge. Mr. Darwin, misled by this account, part of which he quotes in his masterly work on
the Descent of Man, remarks upon it as follows: ‘‘ A critic has well objected to this account by
asking, why, if the simple horns are now so advantageous, were the branched antlers of the parent-
form ever developed? ‘To this I can only answer by remarking, that a new mode of attack with
new weapons might be a great advantage, as shown by the case of the Owis cycloceros, who thus
conquered a domestic ram famous for his fighting power. Though the branched antlers of a stag
are well adapted for fighting with his rivals, and though it might be an advantage to the prong-
horned variety slowly to acquire long and branched horns, if he had to fight only with others of the
same kind, yet it by no means follows that branched horns would be the best fitted for conquering
a foe differently armed.” (Descent of Man, New York, 1875, p. 513.)

24 MAMMALIA.

from eight inches, or ten inches at the very utmost, down to two or
three inches in length. It is only the largest of these that any have
claimed to be adults. It is very easy for a hunter to say, and even
believe, that he has killed deer with spikes ten inches long, but did
he actually measure them, and make a note of the fact, with time and
place, describing its appearance, and take and note the measurements
of the animal, or did he preserve the head, so that he could carefully
examine it, after the excitement of the chase was over, or so that he
could submit it to the examination of others ?

“Continued observations upon the young deer in my parks have
enlightened me much on this subject. For several years, I really
persuaded myself that I had the true spike-antlered bucks, and set
myself to carefully note their peculiarities, and fondly believed that
I was about to add an important chapter to scientific knowledge.
But these careful and continued observations soon undeceived and
disappointed me. By marking the spike buck of one year, which was
as large as one feeding by its side having two or three tines on each
antler, I found the next year that his antlers were also branched, and
my spike-antlered buck had become a fine specimen of the ordinary
kind. And then the early fawn of the year before, dropped from a
fully adult vigorous doe, which had furnished him plenty of milk, had
now grown to the size of a medium adult, and had fine spike-antlers,
resembling in all things his older brother of the preceding year now
bearing the pronged antlers. And so I anxiously pursued my ob-_
servations for a number of years, ever looking in vain for a second
antler without prongs. Without this certain means of knowledge, I
should have believed that those large spike-antlered bucks were more
than yearlings and nearly adult. It is true the dentition might have
undeceived me, but this | could not ascertain while the animal was
alive, and this test has probably been rarely examined and carefully
studied by those hunters who believe they have killed adult deer
with spike antlers. I feel quite sure that they had not the means of

accurately determining the true ages of the wild deer which they

to
on

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS.

had killed; and what I have already stated may serve to show how
very liable all are to be misled in relation to a point, upon a certain
knowledge of which the whole question depends,” *

The only exception, that has come to my knowledge, to the rule
that Spike-horn bucks are always yearlings, is a case that fell under
the observation of Mr. E. L. Sheppard: A very old buck, with much
gray about its head, was killed in Queer Lake about ten years ago.
In addition to its extreme age, it had but three legs and was, conse-
quently, ill-conditioned, having been unable to procure sufficient
food. It carried a pair of spike-horns which differed from those of
yearling bucks in being much thicker at the base, rougher, more
warty, and deeply wrinkled for some distance above the burr. This
apparent exception is an illustration of two general laws: (a) that in
extreme age there is a tendency for certain parts to revert to a con-
dition resembling that of early life; and (6) that ill-nourished bucks
bear stunted and more or less imperfect horns. It is a well-known
fact that the largest, handsomest, and most perfect antlers come from
middle-aged Deer that have wintered well and are in fine con-
dition; while the few-pronged and unsymmetrical ones are grown by
young or very old animals, or by those that have been wounded or
from other cause are poor and ill-conditioned.+

All yearlings do not have true spike-horns, and, if the term be
made to include all unbranched antlers, I am strongly of the opinion
that two-year old bucks sometimes grow them. I have a pair of un-
branched antlers that are curved both inward and forward, and are
of exceptional length, the separate horns measuring respectively ten
and a half and eleven inches (or 267 and 279mm.) over the curve, and

* Antelope and Deer of America, pp. 231-232.

+ Through the kindness of the well-known guide, Mr. E. L. Sheppard, I possess a specimen of
unusual interest that well illustrates this point. The buck, which was an adult, was killed at Big
Moose Lake, September 10, 1880, and its horns are imperfect, asymmetrical, and very scraggy.
The animal was lank and thin, and was found to bea cripple. Its left humerus had once been
broken and the fragments had united at a right angle, so that the fore-leg was directed forward, and
the shortening of the humerus was so great (its greatest length being less than six anda half inches,
or, exactly, 164mm.) that the foot could not be made to touch the ground,

3

26 MAMMALIA.

seven and a half and eight inches (190 and 203mm.) in a straight line
from the base of the burr to the tip. The longest horn presents a
slight’ enlargement, three inches from the tip, along its upper and
posterior border, the greatest thickness of which is three-quarters of
an inch (19mm.), thus indicating the point where a prong ought to
have grown, I take it that these are the horns of a two-year old,
but have no means of determining this very important question. I
also have two other pairs of horns from young Deer, that are smaller
than those just described and yet one horn of each pair is forked.
Whether they came from yearlings or two-year olds I will not ven-
ture to decide.

In my opinion the term spike-horn should be limited to the
straight and true spike that is known to be characteristic of the year-
ling buck.

Does sometimes, though rarely, have horns, and they are usually
of the “spike” pattern, only more incurved than those of the bucks,
and they are apt to be more or less imperfect and unsymmetrical.
They are generally covered with the velvet, no matter at what season
taken, in this respect resembling those of castrated bucks. Does that
bear antlers do not commonly bear young, though they are not al-

ways barren.*
The Chase.

An account of the different ways of hunting the Deer on the
plains and prairies of the West, in the canebrakes and swamps of the
South, and in other sections remote from the region under consider-

ation, however interesting, does not fall within the scope of the

* Alonzo Wood, Esq., one of the most experienced and competent guides in the Adirondacks,
has kindly presented me with a very beautiful pair of spike antlers that were taken from a doe
which was killed at Second Lake of North Branch about the first of September, 1876. They are
deeply curved, symmetrical, and covered with a very dense coat of ‘‘ velvet,” the individual hairs
of which are of unusual length. The measurements of these antlers are as follows :

From burr to tip, in a straight line, 6 in. (152 mm.)
ae a around curve, Sf’ | (21Om se)
Distance between tips, AUS (TOS oe)

us antlers at curve, HS (Gigi 20)

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 27

present work ; hence the methods practised in the Adirondacks will
alone be described.

There are three principal ways in which Deer are hunted in this
Wilderness, namely : by floating, by drzvzng (hounding), and by s72//-
hunting.

Floating consists in paddling up to a Deer, at night, with a light
called a jack fastened above the bow of the boat, and so arranged
that it casts the whole light ahead, leaving the boat and contents in
exaggerated darkness. The zack of our ancestors (used even within
the brief period of my own recollection), was a very simple affair,
constructed where occasion required. It consisted of a torch, or
sometimes a tallow candle, fastened upon a piece of bark, and backed
by a bark reflector. This rude illuminator was attached to a stick,
three or four feet long, that stood upright in the bow. The stick, or
standard of the primitive jack, still remains, and now supports a
lantern which is closed in on three sides so that all the light shall be
thrown in front. Some sort of a reflector is generally used to con-
centrate and project the rays to a greater distance. Sometimes the
light is fastened to the hat.

Two people constitute a floating party, and the modus operand? is
as follows : The sportsman sits on the front seat, with his legs tucked
under the bow in a position that is, at the start, anything but agree-
able, and becomes distressingly uncomfortable as hour after hour
drags slowly on. He dare not move lest the noise thus made should
alarm the Deer. The guide sits in the stern and must be expert
with the paddle, for it is his duty to propel the boat steadily and
noiselessly within easy range of the wary Deer.

The locality is usually selected in the day-time, and is generally
some marsh-bordered bay, abounding in lily-pads, or a similar place
along the banks of a sluggish stream On nearing the feeding
ground not a word is spoken, not even in a whisper, and the hunters
strain eye and ear to discover the whereabouts of the quarry. The

light is turned in such a way that it covers the shore as the boat

28 MAMMALIA,

glides silently on, for the Deer may be gazing at it from the bank,
standing motionless and silent. Indeed, he is often seen, not more
than a couple of boat lengths away, before any sound has forewarned
them of his presence.

Bright moonlight nights are undesirable because the animal can
then detect the outline of the boat, and is apt to take to the woods
without delay.

Let us note the course of events in an ordinary floating expe-
dition, premising only that the sportsman is somewhat of a novice.
Unless there is direct water communication between the camp and
the place selected for the hunt, the party eat an early supper and
set out at once in order to reach the spot before the gathering
darkness obscures the way. The guide, placing the boat upon his
sturdy shoulders, takes the lead, following some old trail or blazed
line, or, if the spot be unfrequented, finds his way by certain fea-
tures of mountain or valley that are familiar landmarks to his
practised eye. The sportsman follows, carrying the zack and gun,
as well as a bottle of tar oil for protection against insects.

The start is well timed, for the outlines of near objects have
already become indistinct, and the shades of dusk are fast blending
the dim forms of the evergreens, transforming the coniferous
forest into a uniform mass of darkness, when they emerge upon
the open shore of a small and shallow lake and launch the canoe in
its black but unruffled water. Night is upon them, and with it the
flies and mosquitoes. Tar oil is applied freely to face and hands,
the jack is lit and placed, and they step quietly into the boat and
move noiselessly off,—the sportsman on the front seat, his over-
coat buttoned up to his chin, and his feet crowded uncomfortably
under the bow, one on each side of the jack-stick; the guide
astern, silently plying his paddle. The nearest marsh-bordered
bay is soon reached, and as the light skims along the bank, falling
in turn upon clumps of bushes, old logs and stumps, and the dark
cone-like forms of the young spruce and balsams, the sportsman’s

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 29

=<

expectation is at its highest pitch; he feels his heart beat faster
and faster, and grasps his gun tighter and tighter, imagining that
each fantastic shadow will show the white tail of a retreating buck.
The suspense is of short duration, for this feeding-ground is
passed without so much as the sound of a moving branch to indi-
cate the presence of any animal larger than the flies that swarm
about his head. Now comes a pull of half a mile before the next
ground is reached, which would afford the sportsman ample time to
compose himself, were it not for the armies of pestiferous flies and
mosquitoes that demand, and receive, his undivided attention. The
bottle of tar oil is produced, and a thorough smearing grants
temporary respite. No sooner is this accomplished than the next
favorable shore for Deer is fast appearing over the port bow.
Another ten minutes of breathless suspense and they turn again
into the open lake. A close listener might have detected a half
suppressed sigh of submission to the inevitable, from the fore part
of the boat, but no other sound disturbs the unbroken silence of
the night. The third swampy bay is reached and passed, with
like result. A council ensues, in a low whisper, and it is decided
to run up the inlet, a marshy stream averaging less than a boat’s
length in width. Having arrived at its mouth they proceed very
slowly, for good feed abounds on both banks, and a Deer may
be surprised at any moment. Presently a noise is heard ahead : it
is vague and indefinite, but evidently something moving. The
boat comes nearer; the noise ceases; itis heard again. The sight
is strained to penetrate the bushes along the shore, but nothing is
discovered. Hark! something dripping in the water; the eyes
are lowered, and there, on a log that projects into the stream,
almost within reach from the bow, is seen the form of a large
porcupine, lazily eating lily-pads and gazing stupidly at the light.
The sportsman is tempted to fire, but controls his disgust and says
nothing. A bend in the tortuous channel is passed, and another,
and,—splash, splash, splash: it is the unmistakable sound of a

MAMMALIA.

Deer wading in the creek. Then all is still again. Is the animal
standing in the water looking at the light, or has he stepped out
upon the bank? The sportsman hears the faint ripple of water
against the bow as the boat moves swiftly on; he is conscious that
the hat is rising on his head; his heart beats louder and louder,
and he feels it knocking violently against his ribs. The boat is
slackened and the light made, in turn, to cover both shores. Mo-
ments seem like hours, and the flies are entirely forgotten. But
what has become of the game? Inadvertently the gun rubs
against the jack-stick when, simultaneously, is heard the sharp
shrill whistle of a startled buck, from behind a bush to the right,
and the fading sound of crackling branches announce his disap-
pearance in the forest.

The flies now seem worse than ever, and so they really are, for
the boat is passing through their very headquarters, and the bright
light attracts them to the spot. Continuing the course up the
sluggish stream it is some time before anything occurs to divert
the sportsman’s attention from these tormenting insects, which
constantly get into the eyes, nose, and mouth, till, harassed, ex-
asperated, and well nigh distracted, he applies his only remedy,
the tar oil, so freely that he soon feels it trickling slowly down his
aching back. The cramped position of his legs and feet is actually
painful, and his back ‘seems as if it would break.” The hour is
past midnight, his lids are heavy, and he has almost determined to
request the guide to turn back when a loud plunge alongside the
boat gives him a sudden start and elicits the involuntary exclama-
tion: ‘what’s that?” forgetting for the moment the necessity of
silence. ‘ Nothing but a muskrat,” calmly replies the guide in a
whisper. ‘‘Muskrat? hum!” he retorts in a tone of incredulity,
but says no more.

Another hour passes wearily away. The inlet, which is here so
narrow and shallow as scarely to admit the boat, is crossed by a
fallen tree that bars farther progress. The return voyage becomes

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 31

very monotonous, and finally even the flies fail to keep up the ex-
-citement. The drowsy hunter nods, his eyes close, and his head
hangs heavily upon his breast. Suddenly an owl, on a low limb
overhead, utters one of his loudest and most startling cries. The
affrighted sportsman cocks both barrels of his gun, expecting to
detect the crouching form of a panther preparing for the fatal
spring. On being assured of the harmless nature of his imaginary
foe he cannot suppress a groan of mortification and disgust while
he endeavors to regain his equanimity. Beads of cold sweat
mingle with the oil upon his forehead as he solemnly and silently
vows that floating is a diversion into which he will never again be
beguiled.. He feels chilly, and wonders if this is really a sample
of Adirondack sport, or if his guide has been playing him a trick.
While his mind is occupied with these meditations they have
reached the lake, and the guide, anxious not to return empty-
handed, has put the boat into a shallow bay and is working it
slowly ahead amongst the lily-pads. The sportsman, now too cold
to sleep, feels the boat slacken its headway and stop. He wonders
if the guide has dropped off in a doze and is about to turn and in-
vestigate when the word “shoot,” uttered in a low whisper, falls
upon his ears. He doesn’t see anything to shoot, but on looking
‘more closely, discovers, partly hidden behind a bush, the form of
a Deer, as motionless as a statue, gazing inquiringly at the light.
Raising the gun nervously to his shoulder he fires. A desperate
leap, a wild plunge ahead, a heavy fall, and a noble buck lies dead
upon the bank.

Driving consists in chasing a Deer with hounds, and killing it,
if possible, when it takes to water. A Deer is not much afraid of
a dog, and when the latter commences to bay on the track does
not start off at once, but waits till sure that the hound is really
‘chasing it. It then moves away at a brisk pace, rapidly distancing
its pursuer, and is apt to run several miles, circling through valleys

and over hills, before taking to water. If now a stream of any

32 MAMMALIA.

size is reached, the animal is liable to wade for a considerable dis-
tance in order to throw the dog off the scent. It then stops to
listen, and if after a while the dog again finds the track, will gen-
erally take a pretty straight course for some neighboring lake, and
swim it in order to rid itself of the annoyance of being followed.
Instead of swimming, it sometimes skulks in shallow water near
shore, and in this way baffles the dog.

The details of the hunt having been arranged over night, the
participants proceed, soon after daylight, to their respective posts,
while the guide puts out the dogs. If the lake about which the
hunt centres is a large one, two or more men are stationed at dif-
ferent points to watch it, while the others make portages to
adjacent lakes and ponds. The guide commonly starts several
dogs, each ona separate track. Each watch-point is provided with
a boat, and the hunters keep a sharp look-out, for the Deer is fre-
quently so far ahead that it takes the water before the bay of the
hound comes within hearing. If the game isa doe or fawn, and
particularly if early in the season, the head alone is commonly seen
above the surface, and at a distance it is likely to be mistaken for
a duck. A buck swims higher, and the later the date the more of
its body shows out of water. Deer killed in September generally
sink, but after this month they usually float. This depends upon
the state of the pelage; for when in the ved coat they sink, while,
on the contrary, when the é/ue coat, which grows very rapidly, is
an inch in length, it will, as a rule, float the Deer that carries it,
and this length is generally attained about the first of October.

When a Deer is seen swimming the lake, the hunter waits till it
has gone far enough from shore to give him an opportunity to
head it off, before launching his boat and starting in pursuit. By
exercising a little caution and not hurrying too much, he is often
able to approach within easy range without being observed; but,
if the animal sights him or hears any suspicious noise, it swims so
fast that unless in a large lake and some distance from shore, the

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 33
hunter has great difficulty in overtaking it. When a large buck
is overtaken and unexpectedly finds that he is pursued, he sud-
denly turns toward the boat, with a look of mingled astonishment
and horror, rises high out of water and snorts; then, facing about,
makes a desperate, but usually fruitless, effort to escape.

In September it is not uncommon for a guide to drive the
Deer about the lake till well nigh exhausted, and then catch and
hold it by the tail, so that it will not sink, while the “sportsman”
kills it !

In drzveng, a hunt ordinarily lasts seven or eight hours, and is
apt to become a trifle monotonous, particularly for those who do
not happen to see a Deer. It commonly has this advantage, how-
ever, that there are at this season (autumn) no flies to pester the
watchman, who, if he can manage to keep warm, and has enough
to eat, may maintain a tolerable degree of complacency.

Still-hunting, with us, consists in following a deer, by its tracks
on the ground, and in attempting to overtake and shoot it, by
daylight, in its home in the forest. It is sometimes, though rare-
ly, practised by our most skilful still-hunters in summer and early
autumn, after a recent rain has so moistened the surface that the
foot-prints can be traced. But it is when the ground is covered
with a few inches of newly fallén snow, in November and Decem-
ber, that this method of hunting is commonly resorted to. A rifle
is the weapon usually employed.

In order that he may step as noiselessly as possible, the hunter
lays aside his boots, covers his feet with several pairs of woolen
stockings, and over them draws a pair of well-made buckskin
moccasins. Starting early in the morning, he makes a circuit in
search of fresh tracks, and if Deer are plenty, pays no attention to
those of does and fawns, but proceeds till the track of a large
buck is discovered. This he follows slowly and cautiously, taking
care lest he tread on some dead branch or in any way make a

noise that might alarm the wary Deer. The animal often takes

34 MAMMALIA.

fright and makes off at full speed before it has been seen at all.
This the hunter at once detects by the difference in the track,
the long spaces between footprints plainly showing that it was on
the run. He now throws off all restraint and strikes into a brisk
pace, for the Deer is already likely to be several miles away, and

whatever noise is made cannot possibly reach its distant ears.

~ When the tracks indicate that the Deer has slackened its gait into

a walk, and has, perhaps, commenced to browse a little, then it is
time to advance again slowly and with great circumspection, for
having been once alarmed, it is even more on the alert than usual,
and can only be approached with the utmost care.

It not unfrequently happens that the Deer enters a swamp
where several others are feeding, in which case the snow is apt to
be so much cut up that it is impossible to follow the original
track unless its size serves to distinguish it; and even then it
may cross and recross its own path so many times as to be-
wilder the hunter, who must now do one of two things: either
advance stealthily and noiselessly through the swamp, without re-
gard to the footprints, hoping by chance to get a shot; or he must
make a wide detour, circling around it, to see if the track he is
after leads away in any direction. If it does not, he knows that
the Deer is still in the swamp, and must return and attempt to
find it. Appreciating the difficulty of the undertaking, he moves
with great deliberation, his practised eye penetrating, at each step,
every space and recess that the slight change of position brings in
view. To the left he observes a prostrate maple, felled by the
wind, and, knowing that Deer are fond of the kind of browse® it

* Deer greedily devour the lichens that adhere to the branches of trees that have long been dead,
and the buds and twigs of those that were living when they fell. This fact is well-known to woods-
men, who invariably assert that if a tree falls during the night, tracks of Deer can always be found
there next morning. And I have heard more than one old hunter affirm it to be his sincere belief
that Deer know the cause of the noise produced by a falling tree, and, guided by the sound, at once
set out in quest of the spot.

Mr. John Constable tells me that he once shot a Deer in the act of browsing upon the lichens
that clung to a fallen tree-top. The animal was standing on its hind-legs, with its fore-feet resting
upon a large limb, and was reaching up for the lichens.

cn

or

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS.

affords, works cautiously toward it. The branches are reached
but no live thing is seen, and his eyes are bent in other directions
when,—crash, crash, under his very nose, and he is deluged with
a shower of snow that, for the moment, completely blinds him. He
may, or he may not, get his eyes open in time to catch a vanish-
ing glimpse of the affrighted Deer, and, now that it is too late,
discovers the bed of his would-be victim under the fallen tree-top,
at his very feet.

The hunter rarely sees the whole outline of a Deer in still-
hunting. The forests are so thick, and the evergreens so loaded
with snow, that an object is not commonly visible at any great
distance, and a part of the leg or a patch of hair constitute the
target usually presented to his eye. He sometimes fires directly
at what he sees, and sometimes “allows a trifle” aiming a little
ahead or a little behind, as the case may be. If severely wounded,
without being killed outright, the animal is generally left for
several hours, or until the next day; for if pursued it would con-
tinue to run as long as its strength held out; while, on the other
hand, if left alone it soon lies down and will probably never rise
again: Judge Caton says: ‘“ But few animals will go so far and
so fast, after receiving a mortal wound, as a Virginia Deer,” * and
I have myself followed a buck, shot through both lungs with a 44
calibre rifle-ball, more than a mile and a half through the woods !

In localities where Deer are abundant an expert still-hunter
frequently kills two or three in a single day, but such hunts are
very laborious, for the track often leads many miles, in a tortuous
course, over hard-wood ridges, across stretches of spruce and
hemlock, and through dense balsam and cedar swamps. It is a
long distance to camp, but thitherward, at nightfall, the weary
hunter wends his way. His course lies through a swamp in which
the evergreens grow so near together that the eye is unable to

penetrate farther than a few paces in any direction, and are so

i hots Cit; pe gage

36 MAMMALIA.

loaded with snow that the dark green of the few uncovered
branches contrasts markedly with the uniform white of the tent-
like cones from which they protrude. The silence is oppressive,
and unbroken even by the sighing of the wind. The imagination,
aided by the gathering shades of dusk, sees in this picture a
primeval forest, amongst whose time-worn trunks stands the long
deserted encampment of a bygone race. The well-preserved
wigwams of spotless white, bleached by many winters, and pitched
upon a floor of alabaster, mark the final bivouac of an unremem-
bered nation.

Of the three methods of hunting heretofore considered, drzvzng
is the least sportsmanlike, and affords the Deer-the smallest chance
of escape. It requires neither skill nor cunning on the part of the
executioner ; for patience, and a very ordinary amount of common
sense, are the only essentials. It has this advantage, however,
that the Deer, if wounded at all, is almost certain to be killed out-
right,—which cannot be said of the other methods.

Floating requires one of the actors to be expert in the use of
the paddle, and is really quite an exciting diversion. This is partly
because it can only be practised by night, and partly because each
change of position of the boat, and each curve and bend of the
shore brings new objects into the limited field of vision, keeping
the expectation in a state of acute tension. But after all, when
the novelty has worn off, one cannot help realizing that it is
like carrying a lantern, any dark night, through a frontier pasture,
and shooting the first unlucky cow that chances to stand in the
path.

In séell-hunting, on the other hand, the hunter is thrown entirely
upon his own resources, and it is the only method of taking the
Deer in this Wilderness that requires any particular skill or labor
on his part. The guide is here superfluous, unless it be to string
up the game and find the shortest way to camp when the hunt is
over. Still-hunting tends to toughen the muscles, to sharpen the

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 37

vision, to quicken the hearing, and to impart to the whole system
a glow of health and vigor. It calls into play the exercise of
functions that are apt to be neglected by the student and man of
business, and inspires the lover of nature with a zeal and enthusi-
asm not easily extinguished.

-In addition to the three foregoing legitimate (!) methods of
hunting the Deer, there are sometimes practised here two other
ways of killing—I might better say butchering—that are too des-
picable even to be spoken of without a feeling of shame. They
are: by means of “cks, and by crusting.

A fick is a place where salt is put,* and the supply from time to
time replenished. The Deer, being exceedingly fond of salt, after
having once discovered the place, repair to it with great regu-
larity. When they have visited the lick nightly for some little time,
which is ascertained by examining the ground round about for
tracks, the murderous pot-hunter, armed with a double-barrelled
gun loaded with buck-shot, secretes himself at dusk behind some
convenient covert, or in a neighboring tree, and in silence awaits
the approach of his unsuspecting victim.

Crusting is a method of destruction that is still more unfair and
atrocious than that just described, and is only practised by the
most worthless and depraved vagabonds. It depends, fortunately,
upon a condition of the deep snows that is usually of short dura-
tion, and rarely occurs save in the months of February and March.
When the snow averages four or five feet in depth on the level, a
thaw, followed by a freeze, converts the surface into a stiff crust
which renders the Deer very helpless. Taking advantage of this
state of things, the crust-hunters sally forth. Their snow-shoes

enable them to skim lightly over the surface, whilst the poor Deer

* The only natural deer-lick in the Adirondacks, so far as I am aware, is thus spoken of by Mr.
Colvin: ‘‘ I observed in a moist place a deposit of marly clay, a rare thing in this region. What
was most interesting, however, was the fact that this was a natural deer-lick, many places showing
where the Deer had licked the clay, possibly obtaining a trifle of potash, alumina, and iron, derived
(Report of the Adirondack Survey, 1880, p. 193.)

”

from sulphates from decomposing pyrites.

38 MAMMALIA.

are unable to move except by the greatest effort, and are soon ex-
hausted. They sink to their bellies at every plunge, the sharp
hoofs cutting through the frozen crust, which lacerates their
slender legs till the tracks are stained with blood. The cruel foe
is upon them, and well do they realize that the struggle is for
life. Every muscle is strained to the utmost in the frantic ef-
fort to escape, but in vain. Every leap tells bitterly on the fast-
waning strength, and they soon sink in the snow, breathless and
with heaving sides. Their large liquid eyes are turned toward
their brutal pursuers, as if to implore mercy, but none is given.
All share a like fate—they are butchered in cold blood.

Deer Protection.

For many years an army of hardy lumbermen, wood-choppers,
and bark-peelers has been steadily at work, together with its con-
comitant devastating fires, in making progressive and disastrous
inroads upon the ill-fated forests of the Adirondacks. Much of the
proper borders of the region, long since stripped of timber, pre-
sent to the eye a desolate and barren waste, whose present irregu-
lar boundaries are still contracting with ominous rapidity.

~ New saw-mills, pulp-mills, and numerous other manufacturing
establishments that consume vast quantities of wood, are con-
_stantly being erected; and, as if this were not enough, it 1s
possible that before the snows of another winter cover the earth,
a railroad will pierce the very heart of this grand Wilderness.

It augurs ill for the Deer when the footprints of the panther or
wolf are found near its winter quarters, but the cold steel tracks
of the iron horse admonish us of the presence of a tenfold more
insidious and subtle foe; for the railroad not only brings the Deer's
greatest enemy, man, into its immediate haunts, but destroys and
carries off the forests that constitute its home. Hence it natural-
ly follows that unless the region is early converted into a State
Preserve, which, unfortunately, seems hardly probable, the laws that

CARIACUS VIRGINIANUS. 39

heretofore sufficed to enable this animal to hold its own, will soon
prove inadequate. Therefore, the subject of Deer Protection
becomes one that claims earnest and thoughtful consideration from
our sportsmen and hunters, and demands intelligent and judicious
legislation,

The present law was a fairly good one at the time of its enact-
ment, but it has ceased to meet existing conditions; that it will
prove ineffectual against the demands of the rapidly increasing
occupancy and destruction of the forests, requires no great per-
spicacity to foretell.

There are two weak points in the law as it now stands: Ist,
the open season is too long by at least a month; and 2d, there is
no limit put to the number of Deer that a party, or an individual,
may kill during this period. The season begins with the month
of August, and when the weather is propitious more than a hun-
dred boats are nightly engaged in /loateng, on the various water-
courses of the Adirondacks. Now it is an undisputed fact that,
by this method of hunting, more than twice as many does as bucks
are killed, and that a large percentage of those fired at are wounded,
and escape into the woods to die. It is also a fact that, as a rule,
each doe has two fawns, and that fawns deprived of their mother’s
milk before the first of September usually die. Hence the ap-
palling truth becomes apparent, that for every twenty-five Deer
secured by floating, at least fifty (and probably a much larger
number) must be destroyed! Therefore it seems proper that
the season should not open before the first of September. The
second weak point in the law is also a vital one. It is notorious
that during the past two years many hundreds of Deer have been
slaughtered over and above the number necessary to keep the
parties killing them supplied with venison. In parts of Canada,
and in the State of Maine, the law sets a limit to the number of
moose, caribou, and Deer that may be killed by an individual or

camp during a given period, and I see no reason why a similar

40 MAMMALIA.

law might not be enacted and enforced in our own State with like

good results.

NOTES ON EXTERMINATED AND EXTINCT UNGULATES.

Note 1.—It is not many years since the Moose (Alce A merzcanus)
was a favorite object of pursuit in the Adirondacks, from which
region it was exterminated, as nearly as I can ascertain, about the
year 1861.

Dr. DeKay, in his Zoology of New York, said of these animals :
‘They are yet numerous in the unsettled portions of the State, in
the counties of Essex, Herkimer, Hamilton, Franklin, Lewis, and
Warren; and since the gradual removal of the Indians, they are
now (1841) believed to be onthe increase . . . . The Moose
furnishes an excellent material from its hide for moccasins and
snow-shoes. The best skin is obtained from the bull Moose in
October, and usually sells for four dollars. They were formerly so
numerous about Raquet Lake, that the Indians and French Cana-
dians resorted thither to obtain their hides for this purpose; and
hence we have the origin of the name of that lake, the word raguet
meaning szow-shoes. They still exist in its neighborhood.”

The Moose is a huge animal, the adult males often standing six
feet in height at the shoulders, and exceeding a thousand pounds
in weight, Evidence of its former presence here may still be seen
in various parts of the Wilderness, where the long scars of its
“peelings” yet remain. These commonly consist of small soft or
swamp maples (Acer rubrum L.) and striped maples (A. Pernsyl-
vanicum L.) from which the bark has been stript, from a short
distance above the ground to the height of eight or even ten feet.
This bark, together with the branches of the same tree, and several
kinds of browse, constitute its principal food in winter. In sum-
mer it feeds also upon marsh grasses and aquatic plants, notably
upon the roots of the pond lily.

EXTERMINATED AND EXTINCT UNGULATES. Al

In the fall of 1853 Thoreau met an Indian, named Tahmunt Swa-
sen, in the forests near Moosehead Lake, Maine, who told him that
he had hunted Moose in the Adirondacks in New York, but that
they were more plentiful in the Maine woods.*

Concerning the abundance of the Moose in the Adirondacks
subsequent to 1850, and its final disappearance from the region, I
have taken great pains to solicit information, both through private
inquiry and correspondence, and publicly through the medium of
forest and Stream. The result of this investigation, in which I
have been greatly aided by Dr. Frederick H. Hoadley, is a deluge
of individual opinion and conflicting statement, together with
a meagre amount of positive information of a strictly reliable
character.

Early in March, 1851, Mr. John Constable and his brother
Stevenson killed two Moose near the head of Independence Creek,
in Herkimer County. They killed their last Moose in March,
1856, west of Charley’s Pond, in Hamilton County. Mr. Constable
writes me: ‘I never recur to those hunts with any satisfaction,
for much as I enjoyed at the time the tramp of more than a hun-
dred miles on snow-shoes, the camping in the snow, the intense
excitement of the search and pursuit, I must ever regret the part
I have taken unwittingly in exterminating this noble animal from
our forests. Were I younger, I would assist in reinstating them,
as the plan is perfectly feasible. In the early years of my still-
hunting, moose were quite numerous, and I rarely, if ever, failed to
see signs of their peelings or their tracks.”

In the year 1852 or 1853 the well-known guides, Alonzo Wood
and Ed. Arnold, killed two Moose and found a third dead, back of
Seventh Lake Mountain, in Hamilton County.

Dr. J. H. Guild writes me from Rupert, Vermont, that a Moose
was killed at or near Mud Lake, in the Lower Saranac region, in
1856.

* The Maine Woods. By Henry D. Thoreau, Boston, 1864, p. 141,

4

42 MAMMALIA.

In July of the same year (1856) Ed. Arnold killed a Moose at
Nick’s Lake; and in the following sprmg a man named Baker
killed another in the same vicinity.

One evening during the summer of 1858 a Moose strayed into
the Wood’s garden at Raquette Lake, but was not shot.

The Hon. Horatio Seymour, ex-Governor of the State of New
York, killed a huge bull Moose in the forest North of Joc’s Lake.
Its head and horns may now be seen at his farm in Deerfield, N. Y.

The Governor writes me: “ It was a very large animal and was
disposed to charge upon our party; but for our dog it might have
made us trouble. The snow was very deep and covered with a
crust. The dog could run upon this while the Moose sunk through
it. This enabled the dog to worry the animal and turn its atten-
tion away from our party.” He does not remember the year in
which it was killed.

In July, 1861, the artist Mr. A. F. Tait, and Mr. James B. Blos-
som, both of New York, were camped on Constable Point, Raquette
Lake. One night about the middle of the month, while floating
on Marion River, Mr. Tait wounded a Moose, but did not kill it.
On the 25th of the month, about four o’clock in the afternoon,
Mr. Blossom shot and killed a dry cow Moose on South Inlet.

The measurements of this animal, taken by Mr. Blossom at the

time and on the spot, are:

Length, ” feet, 1 ines
Height (at shoulder), 6 feet, 1 inch.
Head, 2 feet, 2 inches.
Ears, 1 foot.

Girth, 5 feet, 4 mehes.
Fore leg, 3 feet, 5 inches;
Hind leg (hip bone to hoof), 5 feet, 5 inenes:

Early in August of the same year (1861) the hunter William
Wood killed a bull calf near the place where Mr. Tait had wounded

EXTERMINATED AND EXTINCT UNGULATES. 43

his Moose. It had a broken jaw, was very lean, and was un-
questionably the animal wounded by Mr. Tait.

In Forest and Stream for April 2d, 1874 (p. 116), Mr. Edw.
Clarence Smith states that a cow Moose was killed on Marion
River (East Inlet of Raquette Lake) during the summer of 1861.
He says that it was shot by a guide by the name of Palmer from
Long Lake, while feeding upon lily-pads, about three o’clock in
the afternoon; and that ‘ the persons present were Isaac Gerhart,
lawyer; Mr. Burgin, Rev. Augustus Smith, now settled in West
Philadelphia, and the undersigned, all residents of Philadelphia.”
In response to interrogations, Mr. Smith writes me that this Moose
was killed in the month of August. Mr. Smith had also the kind-
ness to address a letter of inquiry, in my behalf, to Isaac Gerhart,
Esq., a member of the party. Mr. Gerhart’s reply is so full of in-
teresting details that I make no apology for publishing the greater
part of it verdatzm. He writes: ‘I should say the Moose was
shot about the end of the second week in August, 1861, at the
mouth of the East Inlet of Raquette Lake, on whose shore, about
four miles distant, we then had a camp. We had been up this
inlet, your correspondent calls it Marion River—a name I cannot
recall,—for a day’s trout fishing. You and your brother | Rev. H.
Augustus Smith] and guide were in one boat; Burgin, a guide,
and I in another. We, as usual, ‘tho’ on fishing bent,’ still had
our trusty guns, lest some chance game should find us unprepared.
At its mouth the Inlet was bordered on either hand by a thickly
wooded shore, terminating on the south side in a short promontory,
round the end of which a sloping shore curved off to the southwest.
Off this sloping shore grew in the water a border of lily-pads,
perhaps a hundred feet wide, and about half as far from the edge
of the water the shore became bold and thickly wooded. We were
rowing steadily down, the bottoms of our boats covered with finny
spoils. I was in the bow of the foremost boat, when, as we came

abreast of the end of the promontory, I caught sight of the monster

44 MAMMALIA.

up to her belly in water, cropping the tender lily-shoots. I shall
never forget the confusing impression the sight made upon me. In
my mind the Moose was always associated with imposing antlers,
such as I had seen in the pictured and stuffed specimens which had
all been of males; but this uncouth creature had only immense ears,
which, though its head was below the humped shoulders, still
towered above them. I felt that it must be game because of the -
complete wildness of the surroundings ; and yet it seemed so sug-
gestive of an exaggerated caricature of a jackass, that the idea
passed across my mind that there might be some clearing in the
neighborhood to which it belonged. I do not think my guide’s
impressions were any more coherent than mine, for, although he
was a year or two past his majority and had been born and bred
in the woods, he had never seen a Moose. Meanwhile, profiting
by our confusion of ideas, Madame Moose had ‘slewed around’
in the water, with a view to making for the friendly shelter of the
woods, when your boat came within view of the creature and your
guide shouted ‘Moose! Moose!’ which had the effect of clearing
up my ideas instantaneously. In the twinkling of an eye I had
lodged in front of her shoulder the contents of my gun—not
‘bird shot,’ as you suggest, but ‘buck-cartridge’ consisting of
over a dozen buck-shot enclosed in a wire frame, making a load
that ‘carried’ very closely, and made a hole in her at that short
range of not over fifty yards, that would doubtless, after one of
those long runs for which these animals are famous when fatally
wounded, have ended her career. My shot lent impetus to her
progress toward shore. Then Burgin fired some shot (1 think
No. 6) into her and she emerged from the water. The two guides,
first ours and then yours,|*| each put a rifle ball into her, and she |
fell heavily to rise no more. She doubtless had a spouse some-
where in the neighborhood, for a party who had been after her for

* Mr. Smith writes me: ‘‘ The shot that brought her to the ground was fired by our guide, one
Palmer of Long Lake, son of old Palmer, the original settler on Long Lake.”

EXTERMINATED AND EXTINCT UNGULATES, ; 45

a week had killed a Moose-calf near by that was too young to

have left its parents, and claimed to have found tracks of both the

old ones. We lived on her tenderloin—after getting her to camp

under great difficulties—for about a week.

“On our way out of the region, whence ‘we made our exit at
the First Saranac Lake, we stopped at Bartlett’s on Round Lake,
which appeared to be a famous and extensive rendezvous for
hunters and guides; and on the register there we recorded con-
spicuously opposite our names our notable, albeit fortuitous,
achievement.|*| I think we recorded it as weighing about 800 lbs.
and standing about seven feet high in the hump. ‘The derisive
incredulity which this entry evoked was only silenced by the pro-
duction of the hide, which we had brought with us.” ‘

No credence is to be given to the report, widely circulated
by the press, that a Moose has during the past winter been seen

near the Ox-bow on Moose River, in the Woodhull Lake region.

Nore 2.—That the American Elk or Wapiti (Cervus Canadensis)
“was at one time common in the Adirondacks there is no question.
A number of their antlers have been discovered, the most perfect of
which that I have seen is in the possession of Mr. John Constable.
It was found in a bog on Third Lake of Fulton Chain, in Herkimer
County.

Dr. DeKay (Zool. N. Y., Part I, 1842, pp. 120-121) speak’ of a
specimen consisting of “a portion of a pair of horns attached to a
fragment of skull,” which was “dug up near the mouth of the
Raquet River in this State, near the forty-fifth parallel of latitude.

It bears a label in the handwriting of Dr. Mitchill, purporting that it

* Upon the receipt of the above letter, earlyin October, 1883, I hoped to ascertain the exact date of
the killing of this Moose, and at once wrote to Mr. Bartlett, asking if he would consult his old
register and send me a copy of the entry here referred to. Unfortunately, his reply has not yet
been received. [Since the above went to press I have learned of Mr. Bartlett’s death. ]

46 MAMMALIA.

co

belonged to the C. tarandus, or Rein-deer.” * Dr. DeKay appends
a table of measurements which clearly indicates that the antler in
question was that of our common Elk, though he regarded it as per-
taining to the fossil Elk. He mentions another antler, of a younger
animal, which “ was thrown out by a plow on Grand Isle,” in Lake
Champlain, and deposited in the Museum of the University of
Vermont.

Dr. C. C. Benton, of Ogdensburg, has several specimens, more or
less complete. The circumference of the largest at the burr is twelve
and one half inches; immediately below the burr ten inches. These
specimens were discovered at Steel's Corners in St. Lawrence County.

Mr. Calvin V. Graves, of Boonville, N. Y., has two sections of
Elk horns that were “ploughed up in an old beaver meadow in
Diana,’ Lewis County.

When the species was exterminated here is not known. Dr.
DeKay, writing in 1842, states: “ The stag is still found in the State
of New York, but very sparingly, and will doubtless be extirpated
before many years. Mr. Beach, an intelligent hunter on the Raquet,
assured me that in 1836, he shot at a stag (or as he called it, an elk),
on the north branch of the Saranac. He had seen many of the horns,
and described this one as much larger than the biggest buck
(C. virgintanus), with immense long and rounded horns, with many
short antlers. His account was confirmed by another hunter,
Vaughan, who killed a stag at nearly the same place. They are found
in the northwestern counties of Pennsylvania, and the adjoining
counties of New York. In 1834, I am informed by Mr. Philip
Church, a stag was killed at Bolivar, Allegany County. My inform- -
ant saw the animal, and his description corresponds exactly with this
species.

* This specimen is probably the source of Professor Dana’s statement: ‘‘ Remains of the Rezn-
deer have been found on Racket River,” New York. (Dana’s Geology, 2d Ed., 1875, p. 568.)
I have been unable to find a trustworthy record of the Reindeer or Caribou from this region.

+ Zoology of New York, Part I, Mammalia, 1842, p. 119.

EXTERMINATED AND EXTINCT UNGULATES. 47

I do not regard the above account of Messrs. Beach and Vaughan
as trustworthy, for the reason that I have never been able to find a
hunter in this wilderness, however aged, who had ever heard of a

living Elk in the Adirondacks.

Nore 3.—It is also worthy of remark that wild horses, larger than
our domesticated stock, once roamed the borders of this region. — Dr.
C. C. Benton, of Ogdensburg, has shown me several fossil molar teeth
of Eyuus major that were exhumed at Keenes Station near the
Oswegatchie Ox Bow in Jefferson County. I have compared them
with the corresponding teeth in an immense dray-horse, and find

them much larger.

Nore 4.—It is hard for us to realize that huge Elephants, in the
wild state, ever moved their ponderous bodies over this northern
Wilderness; but the fact is incontestibly proved by the discovery of
their remains on both sides of the Adirondacks. Dr. Zadock Thomp-
son tells us that a fossil Elephant was found in a muck bed in the
township of Mt. Holly, Vermont, (in the Green Mountains,) at an ele-
vation of 1415 feet, in the year 1848.*

A tusk measuring five feet nine inches in length, over the curve,
was found, September 20, 1877, in a marl bed about a mile west of
the village of Copenhagen in Lewis County. It was purchased for
the State Cabinet by Dr. Franklin B. Hough, who described it in the
Lowville Times. Whether this tusk belonged to an Elephant or a

Mastodon has not been determined.

* Appendix to Thompson’s Vermont, 1853, pp. 14-15. Dr. Leidy refers this specimen to
Elephas Americanus (Proc. Acad. Nat. Sci., Phila., VII, 392).

48 MAMMALIA.

Order INSECTIVORA. Family TALPIDA.

CONDYLUBRA CRISTATA Uimnzus.
Star-nosed Mole.

The Star-nosed Mole is a common animal along the outskirts of
the Adirondacks, where it seems to manifest a predilection for
moist situations, being usually found in low ground and in the
neighborhood of streams. Its food consists almost wholly of the
earthworm, and of various insects which it discovers in its mean-
derings through the soil. In general, its habits are much like those
of the Shrew Mole, though it does not, apparently, make as extensive
excavations, and the “mole hills” along the lines of its galleries
are larger.

In gardens and ploughed ground they often work so near the
surface that a ridge of loose earth is upheaved along the course of
their tunnels. In meadows and pasture lands, on the contrary,
the galleries are not marked by surface ridges, for the simple reason
that they cannot readily force their way through the tough sod, but
excavate their burrows immediately beneath. Late in the autumn,
when the ground becomes frozen to the depth of two or three
inches, the Moles sink their galleries into the soft earth below,
and as winter advances they doubtless continue to deepen them
sufficiently to avoid the frozen ground. Thus both Moles and
earthworms escape the severe temperature of our northern winter
by withdrawing below the depth to which the frost penetrates. It
sometimes happens here that a period of severe cold sets in before
much snow has fallen, in which case the ground becomes frozen to
the depth of two feet or more. But this state of things is not apt
to continue, for advancing winter is almost certain to bring with it
a large amount of snow, which, as is well known, keeps out the cold
and dissipates the frost already in the earth. I have known the
ground to be frozen for two feet below the surface when a fall of
about four feet of snow took place. Within two weeks afterward

CONDYLURA CRISTATA. 49

the ground thawed and the surface became moist and mellow though
the temperature remained low. Indeed, it is not uncommon for
fresh green grass to spring up under the heavy covering which
Dame Nature spreads over her northern possessions in winter ;
and residents of cold countries.often avail themselves of the pro-
tection afforded by seemingly inhospitable snow banks.

There is a low and somewhat wet piece of ground bordering a
small creek near my home in Lewis County. During and after
every heavy rain, and for a considerable period in spring and fall,
this creek overflows its banks and a large part of the surrounding
flat is converted into a swamp. Star-nosed Moles have been com-
mon here ever since I can remember, their hills dotting the surface
in various directions. In the fall of 1883 a colony of them were
exceedingly active in one part of this flat and their mounds could
be counted by hundreds over an area a few acres in extent. For
the double purpose of procuring specimens, and of ascertaining if
more species than one were concerned in these excavations, I de-
termined to trap some of the animals, and was joined in the under-
taking by Dr. A. K. Fisher.

This species, as well as Brewer's and the Shrew Mole, may be
trapped by taking advantage of the habit of removing obstacles
from the primary galleries, which are always kept in repair. A
snare of fine wire or horse hair made to surround the runway, and
connected with a bit of stick that protrudes into the burrow and
liberates a small springpole when moved, is the best device for
their capture with which I am acquainted. The traps made by us
consisted of a small strip of board with a bow or hoop set in each
end, to keep the wire loops in place, and so arranged that the
Mole is equally apt to be taken from whichever direction he comes.
During the latter part of October and first of November we
set half a dozen traps of this description, visiting them twice daily
until November 13th, when a fall of six inches of snow and the

freezing of the ground suspended operations for a few days. The

50 MAMMALIA.

weather moderated on the roth and 2oth, and the number of traps
set was increased to fifteen. These were also visited both morn-.
ing and evening and all were kept in good order, A large propor-
tion of them were sprung almost every morning, and others were
plastered up with mud in such a way that they could not spring.
In fact, on an average, fully twenty traps would be sprung to
every Mole secured. I think the springpoles used at first were
too weak, and that a few Moles escaped by forcing themselves
through the wire loops. But after stiffening the poles we still
failed to secure more than a small number of Moles in comparison
with the number of traps sprung. Although the traps remained
set till the 28th of November, when the ground again became
frozen and covered with snow, we secured but nine specimens in
all. Eight were of the Star-nosed variety, while the other was a
Brewer's Mole (Scapanus Brewert). During the same period
three more Brewer’s Moles were caught on a side hill near by.

Dr. Fisher is of opinion that the Moles, in repairing their gal-
leries, often push a quantity of earth ahead of them in the direction
of the mounds, and that this springs the trap before the Mole
has arrived at the loop. Ina large number of cases this is a very
reasonable explanation of the failure to catch the animal, for the
traps are frequently found packed full of earth. In other cases
they dig around the trap, while occasionally a new burrow is ex-
cavated directly beneath it. Whatever else they may do, they in-
variably plaster over with mud any exposed part of the trap that
may appear in the gallery; and they sometimes bury the whole
affair by upheaving a hill directly over it.

The exact method by which the little mounds called “ mole hills”
are produced has long been a matter of earnest inquiry, and I am
glad to be able to contribute important testimony upon this point.
Repeated critical examinations of the hills themselves in different
soils, and occasional observations made at the time of their up-
heaval, have convinced me that, when in dry earth, it is impossible

CONDYLURA CRISTATA. 51

to arrive at any positive knowledge of the way in which they are
made, All that one sees during their formation in dry soil is the
upheaval of a quantity of loose earth from a central point, which
point speedily becomes indistinguishable as the mound increases
in size, the only observable phenomenon consisting in a little heap
of dirt every particle of which seems to be in motion, as it steadily
approaches completion. The rapidity with which so much earth
is thrown up is one of the most perplexing things about it; and
the peculiar motion of the mass leads to the notion that it is
traversed by galleries and that the Mole is at work within it and
not beneath the surrounding ground. On making a section of the
mound, however, it is found to contain no cavity unless it be a
mere tubular extension of the gallery, and this is absent in more
than half the hills examined. On opening the gallery beneath, no
chamber or tortuous excavation is discovered, and the fact at once
becomes apparent that so much earth as constitutes the hill could
not possibly have been obtained from the excavation in its imme-
diate vicinity, and must therefore have been brought from a dis-
tance. Just how it was conveyed to and forced through the orifice
leading into the hill I have until recently been at a loss to com-
prehend, but the opportunity to examine some freshly made mounds
in a wet pasture of rich loam or mould has cleared up the mystery.

These new mounds consisted wholly of compact cylindrical
masses of damp earth, having very much the appearance of Bologna
sausages, and measuring from three to five inches in length by one
and a half to two in diameter. It was noticeable that the size of
each was greater than that of the hole in the sod through which it
had been discharged, which circumstance shows that it must have
been subjected to considerable pressure during expulsion. On
handling these masses they readily broke up, transversely, into a
number of more or less parallel discs, or lamella, each of which
bore evidence of having been powerfully compressed. On exposure

to the air they soon lost their cylindrical form and crumbled, so that

On
iS)

MAMMALIA.

it is only under peculiarly favorable circumstances that they are to
be found at all. They are never present in any but newly made
mounds in wet mucky soil. Hence it is perfectly clear that the
earth of which the mounds are composed is brought to and ex-
truded through the hole intended for this purpose by being pushed
ahead of the animal. In being thus crowded along it becomes com-
pressed and moulded to the burrows. How the Mole always
manages to force it through the hole he has prepared for it, instead
of pushing it into the continuation of the gallery beyond, is by no
means so evident. In a great many cases one arm of the gallery
curves up into the mound so that the plugs would naturally follow
this passage, but in other cases the canal leading to the mound is
given off vertically and nearly at a right angle to the runway, while
occasionally it commences as a horizontal offshoot, thence sloping
upward to the mound.

As the main galleries from time to time require repairs, the
superabundant earth is usually disposed of by crowding it up
through the old mounds, which sometimes, though rarely, contain
a tubular or oval cavity continuous with the holes. Thus, after
a rain or frost by which the galleries have been injured, it often
happens that many of the old mounds on the lines of the primary
runways will be found to have been reopened and the fresh earth
which has been removed in making the necessary repairs may be
seen on them.

Audubon and Bachman criticise Godman’s statement concerning
the abundance of this species in certain localities, remarking :
‘““We have sometimes supposed that he might have mistaken the
galleries of the common Shrew Mole for those made by the Star-
nose, as to us it has always appeared a rare species in every part
of the Union.” * My experience agrees with that of Dr. Godman,
for I have frequently observed this species in large colonies,
and with us it is certainly one of the commonest Moles.

* Quadrupeds of North America, 1851, vol. II, pp. 141-142.

CONDYLURA CRISTATA. 23

Audubon and Bachman observe : “In a few localities where we
were in the habit, many years ago, of obtaining the Star-nosed
Mole, it was always found on the banks of rich meadows near run-
ning streams. The galleries did not run so near the surface as
those of the common Shrew Mole. We caused one of the galleries
to be dug out, and obtained a nest containing three young, ap-
parently a week old. The radiations on the nose were so slightly
developed that until we carefully examined them we supposed they
were the young of the Common Shrew Mole. The nest was
spacious, composed of withered grasses, and situated in a large ex-
cavation under a stump. The old ones.had made their escape, and
we endeavoured to preserve the young; but the want of proper
nourishment caused their death in a couple of days.” * The only
nest that I ever found was about two feet below the surface, in
clay soil, and under a stump. It was composed of grass, and from
it a passage led to a vegetable garden near by.

The same authors assert that ‘it avoids cultivated fields, and
confines itself to meadows and low swampy places.” + That this
is not always the case I have positive proof, for I have caught a
number of them in our garden. By following the ridge of loose
earth that marks their progress, and quickly sinking a spade
directly in their path, a few inches in advance of the moving earth,
I have often turned them out upon the surface. They pass through
the rich, soft soil of a garden bed with such rapidity that my spade
has sometimes cut them in two, though aimed several inches in
advance of the moving earth.

The precise function of the curious disc of tentacle-like papilla
on the snout has not as yet been positively determined, though it
is highly probable that it serves as a delicate organ of touch to aid

the animal in discovering the worms and insects that constitute its
prey.

* Tbid., pp. 141-142. + Ibid., pp. 141-142.

~

J4 MAMMALIA.

One March, many years ago, when sliding down hill on the
crust (the snow then being over three feet in depth) Dr Cae
Bagg and | observed at different times several dark objects which
at a distance looked like little balls of fur. On coming nearer we
discovered that these apparently round objects were Star-nosed
Moles, trying to bore through the icy crust. They had evidently
been moving about on the surface till alarmed by our approach,
when, having wandered away from the holes through which they
came up, they at once set to work to perforate the crust, but, owing
to its unusual hardness, did not succeed in time to make good their
escape. We captured two or three and brought them home.

The reason that they are not more often seen here in winter is
easily explained. They do not at any time travel much upon the
surface, and even when thus engaged their sense of hearing is so
acute that they detect the approach of an enemy while yet at a
distance, and disappear at once into the snow. All winter long
one sees upon the snow many small footprints, that are designated,
collectively, as mice, mole, and shrew tracks. I can distinguish,
with considerable confidence, those of lesperomys, Blarina, and
Sorex, but who will venture to affirm that he can name the species
that makes each of the others ?

The tail of this species becomes enormously enlarged during the
rutting season, which circumstance led Dr. Harlan to describe a
specimen taken during this period as a distinct species, which he
named Condylura macroura.* 1 have taken specimens as late as
the middle of November whose tails measured 12mm. (.47 in.) in
diameter. When in this swollen condition there is a marked con-
striction at the base, which causes the tail to appear as if strangu-
lated. Two or more litters are produced each season.

The scent glands of this animal secrete a thick creamy material

of a greenish yellow color that has a powerful and very disagree-

* Fauna Americana, 1825, p. 39.

SCALOPS AQUATICUS. 55

able odor, which at certain seasons becomes exceedingly rank and

nauseous.

SCALOES AQ UATICUS (Linn.) Fischer.
Shrew Mole.

This species is not common about the borders of the Adirondacks,
and is seldom if ever found within the evergreen forests, though it
sometimes finds the way to the frontier settler’s garden.

Its specific name, agzaticus, like many others in Zoological nomen-
clature, has been unfortunately chosen and has no bearing on the
habits of the animal; for not only is the Shrew Mole not known
voluntarily to swim, but in the selection of its haunts it shows no
preference for the vicinity of water, but manifests rather a contrary
tendency.

Its home is underground, and its entire lifetime is spent beneath
the surface. Its food consists almost wholly of earth-worms, grubs,
ants, and other insects that live in the earth and under logs and
stones It is almost universally regarded as an enemy to the farmer,
and is commonly destroyed whenever opportunity affords ; for, not-
withstanding the fact that it subsists upon insects that injure the
crops, it is nevertheless true that, in the procurement of these, it
disfigures the garden paths and beds, by the ridges and little mounds
of earth that mark the course of its subterranean galleries, and loosens
and injures many choice plants in its probings for grubs amongst
their roots.

The strength of the Shrew Mole is simply prodigious, for an
animal of its diminutive size, and the speed with which it forces
itself through the ground is marvellous. Audubon and Bachman,
speaking of one they had in confinement, state : ‘‘ We afterwards put
the Mole into a large wire rat-trap, and to our surprise saw him in-
sert his fore-paws or hands, between the wires, and force them apart

sufficiently to give him room to pass out through them at once, and

56 MAMMALIA.

this without any great apparent effort.” * Dr. Godman also tells us
that one which he had “in a basket on the mantlepiece of a parlour
made its escape, and fell to the hearth; apparently it sustained little
injury by the fall, but hurried on until it reached the wall, where it
began to travel round the room. Whenever its course was impeded
by the feet of the chairs, which were of large size, it would not go
round them, but wedging itself between them and the wall, pushed
them with apparent ease far enough to obtain a free passage, and it
thus continued to move several in succession. What was more
astonishing, it passed in a similar manner behind the legs of a small
mahogany breakfast-table, and pushed it aside in the same way it
had done the chairs, finally hiding itself behind a pile of quarto
volumes, more than two feet high, which it also moved out from the

he |
.

wall.” + Now I have made a pile, just two feet high, of quarto
volumes, and find that to move it on a smooth, painted floor requires
a force of eighteen pounds (Avoirdupois), and on a carpet, of twenty-
two pounds. In order to display a degree of strength proportionate
to the difference in weight of the two, a man would have to exert a
push pressure of twelve thousand pounds!

Its nest is commonly half a foot or more below the surface, and
from it several passages lead away in the direction of its favorite
foraging grounds. These primary passages gradually approach the
surface, and finally become continuous with, or open into, an ever
increasing multitude of tortuous galleries, which wind about in every
direction, and sometimes come so near the surface as barely to
escape opening upon it, while at other times they are several inches
deep. Along the most superficial of these horizontal burrows the -
earth is actually thrown up, in the form of long ridges, by which the
animal’s progress can be traced. The distance that they can thus
travel in a given time is almost incredible. Audubon and Bachman
state that they have been known, in a single night after a rain, to

* Quadrupeds of North America, vol. I, 1846, pp. 35-86.
+ American Natural History, by John D. Godman, M. D., vol. I, 1842, p. 64.

SCALOPS AQUATICUS. 57

excavate a gallery several hundred yards in length; and I have
myself traced a fresh one nearly one hundred yards. ‘The only
method by which we can arrive at a just appreciation of the magni-
tude of this labor is by comparison ; and computation shows that in
order to perform equivalent work a man would have to excavate, in
a single night, a tunnel thirty-seven miles long, and of sufficient size
to easily admit of the passage of his body.

In following the galleries of the Shrew Mole one finds a number
of little hills of loose earth, each measuring from four to six inches in
height, and eight to ten in diameter, They are usually in groups,
a few feet apart, but are sometimes isolated. Lawns and flower beds
are often disfigured by them in a few hours, for a large number are
sometimes thrown up in a surprisingly short space of time. ‘“ I have
often examined these eminences,” writes Dr. Godman, “ and have
never been able fully to understand how they are formed; a slight
motion is observed at the surface, and presently this loose earth is
seen to be worked up through a small orifice, whence, falling on all
sides, by its accumulation the hills just mentioned are produced. It
seems to be brought from some distance, for on breaking up the
gallery, it was evident that more earth had been thrown out than
could have been removed in excavating the immediately adjoining
portions of the burrow. In one instance I have seen the shrew-mole
show the extremity of its snout from the centre of one of these loose
hills, where it had come at mid-day, as if for the purpose of enjoying
the sunshine, without exposing its body to the full influence of the
external air. ~

I have many times observed small areas, several square yards in
extent, particularly in meadow-land, where the ground was fairly
covered with mole-hills, and so cut up with their galleries that in
walking over it one was sure to break through the surface. It seems

reasonable to suppose that the animal discovers, in these places, an

= Woe. cit, Pp. O2.

8 MAMMALIA.

On

abundance of some favorite food—perhaps a colony of grubs feeding
upon the roots of the grass.

When the Shrew Mole encounters a rock, or an old log or stump,
in the course of his subterranean wanderings, instead of avoiding it,
he takes great pains to burrow beneath, making extensive excavations
in contact with its under surface. The reason is obvious, for he
knows as well as we do that in such places are to be found many
earth-worms, slugs, ants with their eggs, and other tender insects.

It is not probable that the remoter secondary galleries are traversed
more than a few times, for the animal makes new ones every day ;
but the primary passages which lead to the nest are in constant use,
and are always kept inrepair. In this connection Dr. Godman, whose
biography of this species is the most complete and accurate we
possess, observes: “It is remarkable how unwilling they are to re-
linquish a long frequented burrow ; I have frequently broken down
or torn off the surface of the same burrow for several days in succes-
sion, but would always find it repaired at the next visit. This was
especially the case with one individual whose nest I discovered, which
was always repaired within a short time, as often as destroyed. It
was an oval cavity, about six or seven inches in length by three in
breadth, and was placed at about eight inches from the surface in a
stiff clay. The entrance to it sloped obliquely downwards from the
common gallery, about two inches from the surface ; three times I
entirely exposed this cell by cutting out the whole superincumbent
clay with a knife, and three times a similar one was made a little
beyond the situation of the former, the excavation having been con-
tinued from its back part. I paid a visit to the same spot two months
after capturing its occupant, and breaking up the nest, all the injuries
were found to be repaired, and another excavated within a few inches
of the old one. Most probably numerous individuals, composing a

whole family, reside together in these extensive galleries.” He
further says: ‘Shrew-moles are most active early in the morning,

at mid-day, and in the evening ; after rains they are particularly busy

SCALOPS AQUATICUS. 59

in repairing their damaged galleries, and in long continued wet
weather we find that they seek the high grounds for security. The
precision with which they daily come to the surface at twelve o'clock
is very remarkable, and is well known in the country. In many in-
stances when we have watched them, they appeared exactly at twelve,
and at this time only have we succeeded in taking them alive, which
is easily done by intercepting their progress with a spade, broad
blade, &c., and throwing them on the surface.” *

Audubon and Bachman discourse as follows upon the feeding
habits of one they had in confinement: ‘“ When this Mole was fed
on earth-worms (Lumbricus terrenus), as we have just related, we
heard the worms crushed in the strong jaws of the animal, with a
noise somewhat like the grating of broken glass, which was probably
caused by its strong teeth gnashing on the sand or grit contained in
the bodies of the worms. These were placed singly on the ground
near the animal, which after smelling around for a moment turned
about in every direction with the greatest activity, until he felt a
worm, when he seized it between the outer surface of his hands or
fore-paws, and pushed it into his mouth with a continually repeated
forward movement of the paws, cramming it downward until all was
in his jaws. Small sized earth-worms were dispatched in a very
short time; the animal never failing to begin with the anterior end
of the worm, and apparently cutting it as he eat, into small pieces,
until the whole was devoured. On the contrary, when the earth-
worm was of a large size, the Mole seemed to find some difficulty in
managing it, and munched the worm sideways, moving it from one
side of its mouth to the other. On these occasions the gritting of
its teeth, which we have already spoken of, can be heard at a distance
of several feet. . . . . Although this species, as we have seen,
feeds principally on worms, grubs, &c., we. have the authority of

our friend Ogden Hammond, Esq., for the following example either

* Loc. cit., pp. 63-64, 65.

60 MAMMALIA.

of a most singular perversity of taste, or of habits hitherto totally un-
known as appertaining to animals of this genus, and meriting a
farther inquiry. While at his estate near Throg’s Neck, on Long
Island Sound, his son, who is an intelligent young lad, and fond of
Natural History, observed in company with an old servant of the
family, a Shrew Mole in the act of swallowing, or devouring, a com-
mon toad—this was accomplished by the Mole, and he was then
killed, being unable to escape after such a meal, and was taken to
the house, when Mr. Hammond saw and examined the animal, with
the toad partially protruding from its throat. This gentleman also
related to us some time ago, that he once witnessed an engagement
between two Moles, that happened to encounter each other, in one
of the zoon-day excursions, this species is so much in the habit of
making. The combatants sidled up to one another like two little
pigs, and each tried to root the other over, in attempting which,
their efforts so much resembled the manner of two boars fighting,
that the whole affair was supremely ridiculous to the beholder,
although no doubt to either of the bold warriors, the consequences
of an overthrow would have been a very serious affair; and the
conqueror, would vent his rage upon the fallen hero, and punish him
severely with his sharp teeth. We have no doubt these conflicts
generally take place in the love season, and are caused by rivalry, and
that some ‘fair Mole’ probably rewards the victor.” *

Farther on, the same authors observe : ‘“‘ We had an opportunity on
two different occasions of examining the nests and young of the
Shrew Mole. The nests were about eight inches below the surface,
the excavation was rather large and contained a quantity of oak
leaves on the outer surface, lined with soft dried leaves of the crab-
grass (Digitaria sanguinalis). There were galleries leading to
this nest, in two or three directions. The young numbered in one

case, five, and in another, nine.

* Quadrupeds of North America, vol. I, 1846, pp. 85-86, 87-88.

SCALOPS AQUATICUS. 61

‘Our kind friend, J. S. Haines, Esq., of Germantown, near Phila-
delphia, informed us that he once kept several Shrew Moles in con-
finement for the purpose of investigating their habits, and that having
been neglected for a few days, the strongest of them killed and ate
up the others; they also devoured raw meat, especially beef, with

great avidity.” *
Explanation of Erroneous Notions Concerning the Food of the Mole.

It is unfortunate (for the Mole, at any rate) that the farmers and
gardeners still cling to the mistaken notion that the Mole eats the
roots of vegetables and other plants. In support of this view they
affirm that they have followed the galleries of these animals along
rows of garden plants and have found some of the roots gnawed
entirely off, and others more or less injured. Granted ; but this is
circumstantial and presumptive evidence only, and is negatived
by the facts hereinafter related. The truth of the matter is this:
The Mole follows the row of plants in order to obtain the insects
that gather in the rich soil about their roots, and doubtless occasion-
ally injures a few by loosening the earth around them, or possibly
even by scratching them in his efforts to procure the grubs.

Presently a field mouse (Avvcola) comes along and discovers the
gallery of the Mole. It is just the right size, or perhaps a trifle large,
so he enters without deiay and is delighted to find that it leads
directly to his favorite articles of diet, the roots of garden vegetables.
It is this abundant and destructive pest that does the mischief, while
the poor Mole gets the credit of it, and very likely loses his head in
consequence.

As bearing upon this subject I quote from the pen of Samuel
Woodruff, Esq., some evidence that may fairly be regarded as con-
clusive. Mr. Woodruff commences by stating that he had always
supposed the Mole to be herbivorous, and now that the contrary had

been asserted, determined to prove the matter by actual experiment,

* Ibid., p. go.

62 MAMMALIA.

as soon as he could obtain a subject. Having finally procured “a
full grown, healthy, and vigorous mole” of this species, he goes on
to say: “I confined him in a wooden box about two feet square,
placing on the bottom six or eight inches depth of earth, and before
him a potato, a beet, a carrot, a parsnip, turnip, and an apple.
“Early next morning I found him exceedingly languid, and ap-
parently exhausted, barely able to turn himself over when placed on
his back. All the vegetables remained whole—none having been
bitten. I then presented him the head and whole neck of a fowl, with

the feathers on; he instantly seized it, and fed upon it with great

avidity. I found him the next morning, plump, strong and active
nothing left of the head and neck of the fowl, except the beak, part
of the skull, and bones of the neck, the latter being gnawed and
stripped of all the flesh. I then left him with a whole chicken about
the size of a quail. The next day, I found upon examination, nothing
left of the chicken, with the exception of the beak, wing feathers, and
a few of the larger bones. | then treated him to the head, neck, and
entrails of another fowl. He first devoured the entrails, and after
that, the head and neck, with the exceptions as stated in the first in-
stance. Satisfied with this course, | changed his regimen on the
evening of the 17th, from flesh to cheese, with the addition of
potato boiled with meat; the animal was then full and vigorous.
The next morning I found him dead—the cheese and potatoes as |
had left them, none of which had been eaten. The belly and sides
of the mole were much contracted and depressed.

«During the whole time of his confinement, he had been well
supplied with water and ice. The whole of the vegetables put into
the box remained unbitten.

“The result of this experiment has removed from my mind all
doubts respecting the character and habits of this singular animal

it is clearly not herbivorous, and may be truly ranked
among carnivorous animals.” *

* American Journal of Science and Arts, vol. XXVIII, No. 1, pp. 169-170.

SCAPANUS AMERICANUS. 63

SCAPANUS AMERICANUS (Bartram, MS.) Coues. *
FHatry-tatled Mole ; Brewer's Mole.

I have secured a number of examples of this species from the
borders of the Wilderness, but have not observed it within the co-
niferous forests. Specimens have been taken in the garden, where it
excavates long and tortuous burrows, often marked upon the surface
by crumbling ridges of earth.

Its habits, so far as | am aware, resemble those of its nearest rela-
tive, the shrew mole (Scalops aguaticus), except that its mounds do
not contain a chamber and surface opening, and its galleries are
usually made a little deeper. Like this species it is most common
in dry meadow lands, while the star-nose is usually found in moist
or swampy places. It is much more common here than the shrew
mole, and is evidently a more northern animal. It is not known to
indulge in the little ‘‘noon-day excursions’ which, as already related,
are characteristic of the last-named species.

In a wet meadow where Dr. Fisher and I caught eight star-nosed
moles in October and November, 1883, we procured but one Brewer's
Mole It was taken in the following manner: A section of stove
pipe, the lower end of which had been closed with a tight-fitting
board, was sunk along the line of a gallery to such a depth that its
upper edge was on a level with the floor of the runway. The surface
opening was covered over with a piece of rubber cloth to exclude
the light. For some time the moles worked around this pitfall with-
out tumbling in, to prevent which operation Dr. Fisher arranged a
pair of wings or leads (strips of boards), placing their inner ends
flush with the pipe. The Moles now adopted a new mode of pro-
cedure and filled the pipe with dirt so that they might pass over it

with impunity. It was left in this condition for some days and then

*In the American Naturalist for March, 1879 (pp. 189-190), Dr. Coues refers this species,
which is generally known as S. Breweri, to Talpa Americana (Bartram, MS.) Harlan. This con-
clusion is corroborated by Dobson in his Monograph of the Insectivora (Part II, London, June

1883, pp. 134-135).

64 MAMMALIA.

the dirt was quietly removed. Within twenty-four hours a large and
handsome Brewer's Mole was found in the pipe.

The modification of structure that adapts this animal to its peculiar
mode of life affords a most remarkable example of animal specializa-
tion. The conical head, terminating in a flexible cartilaginous
snout, and unincumbered with external ears or eyes to catch the dirt,
constitutes an effective wedge in forcing its way through narrow
apertures; the broad and powerful hands, whose fingers are united
nearly to their very tips and armed with long and stout claws, supply
the means by which the motive power is applied, and serve to force
the earth away laterally to admit the wedge-like head ; while the ap-
parent absence of neck, due to the enormous development of muscles
in connection with the shoulder-girdle, the retention of the entire
arm and forearm within the skin, the short and compact body, and
the covering of soft, short, and glossy fur, tend to decrease to a
minimum the frictional resistance against the solid medium through
which it moves. In fact, it presents a most extraordinary model of a
machine adapted for-rapid and continued progress through the earth.

The mole does not, and cannot, dg a hole, in the same sense as
other mammals that engage in this occupation, either in the construc-
tion of burrows or in the pursuit of prey. When a fox or a wood-
chuck digs into the ground, the anterior extremities are brought
forward, downward, and backward, the plane of motion being almost
vertical: while the Mole, on the other hand, in making its excava-
tions, carries its hands forward, outward, and backward, so that
the plane of motion is nearly horizontal. The movement is almost
precisely like that of a man in the act of swimming, and the simile is
still closer from the fact that the Mole brings the backs of his hands
together in carrying them forward, always keeping the palmar
surfaces outward and the thumbs below. Indeed, when taken from
the earth and placed upon a hard floor, it does not tread upon the
palmar aspect of its fore-feet, as other animals do, but runs along on

the sides of its thumbs, with the broad hands turned up edgewise.

SCAPANUS AMERICANUS. 65

Prof. Baird was the first to add the Hairy-tailed Mole to the fauna
of New York State. Inthe Report of the Regents on the Condition
of the State Cabinet of Natural History, 1862, he says:. “ This
species of Mole, although not mentioned by DeKay in the State
Natural History, is in reality very abundantly to be met with in the
northern part of the State, and apparently to the exclusion of the
more southern species with white naked tail, S. aguaticus. Its bur-
rows are very different from those of the latter species ; being at a
considerable distance beneath the surface, with heaps of loose earth
thrown up at intervals over the gallery, without any kind of entrance
whatever.” *

Dr. Harlan thus described the habits of this species, which he
supposed identical with the common mole of Europe: ‘“ Subterrane-
ous, affecting light and cultivated soils ; changing locality according
to atmospherical variations ; seeking elevated regions during the
rainy seasons ; excavating long galleries which all communicate with
each other, parallel to the surface of the soil, and at moderate depths ;
elevating the earth into what are denominated mole-hil’s , excavating
with their hands, and raising the earth with their head ; feeding on
worms, insects, roots, bulbs of colchicum, &c.; entering in rut early
in the spring, and bringing forth twice annually, four or five at a
birth, between the months of March and August ; raising their young
with the greatest tenderness ; forming their nests of leaves, in a
spacious chamber, the vault of which is supported by pillars, and
which is situated in a manner to be sheltered from inundations.” +

But it must be remembered that Dr. Harlan confounded this
animal with the European Mole ( Zalpa Luropea), and it is possible
that the above is in part compiled from accounts of that species.

* Fifteenth Annual Report of the Regents of the University of the State of New York, on the
Condition of the State Cabinet of Natural History, 1862, p. 13.

+ Fauna Americana, 1825, p. 44.

66 MAMMALIA.

Family SORICIDA.

BLARINA BREVICAUDA (Say) Baird.
Short-tatled Shrew.

The Short-tailed Shrew is, | presume, the most abundant of the
insectivorous mammals that occur in the Adirondack Mountains, and
is found alike in the dense coniferous forests of the interior, and the
cleared and settled districts of the surrounding region.

It seeks its food both by day and by night; and, although the
greater part of its life is doubtless spent underground, or at least under
logs and leaves, and amongst the roots of trees and stumps, it
occasionally makes excursions upon the surface, and I have met and
secured many specimens in broad daylight.

It subsists upon beechnuts, insects, earth-worms, slugs, sow-bugs,
and mice, and can in no way be considered as other than a friend to
the farmer. Its burrows are so small that their presence near the
roots of plants could hardly prove injurious.

In the selection of its haunts it seems to show a preference for the
neighborhood of half-decayed logs, under and within which much of
its food is procured. It is also pretty sure to find and undermine old
planks and boards that have been left on the ground, and I have
captured it under a stone walk. While it is common on the dry
ground immediately bordering swamps and streams, I have never
known it either to enter the water, or to cross over wet places. It
does not appear to be as abundant in those portions of the forest
that are covered exclusively with coniferous evergreens, as in the
vicinity of hard-wood ridges and groves. This is probably due, partly
to the nature of the food supply, and partly to its fondness for travel-
ling under the layer of dead and decomposing leaves that covers the
ground in our deciduous forests. |

The rigors of our northern winters seem to have no effect in
diminishing its activity, for it scampers about on the snow during the

severest weather, and I have known it to be out when the thermome-

BLARINA BREVICAUDA. 67

ter indicated a temperature of —20 Fahr. (—29 C.). It makes long
journeys over the snow, burrowing down whenever it comes to an
elevation that denotes the presence of a log or stump, and I am
inclined to believe that at this season it must feed largely upon
the chrysalides and larvee of insects, that are always to be found in
such places.

The eyes of the Shrew are distinctly visible in the living animal,
not being covered by the integument, as is the case with some of the
moles. Still, the sight is very much restricted, and is, I think, limit-
ed almost to the power of discriminating light from darkness. On
the other hand, the hearing is exceedingly acute, and tactile sensi-
bility is highly developed.

Mr. John Morden, of Hyde Park, Ontario, has recently published,
in the Canadian Sportsman and Naturalist, an article “On the
Mole.” He states that in a trap set for mice he found, at one time,
a Shrew and two white-footed mice (//esferomys leucopus), one of the
latter being dead and about half eaten. He goes on to say: ‘The
evening of that same day, the mole was placed in an old laundry
boiler and the entire dead mouse given to it, which by morning was
entirely eaten, bones and all, except the hair. We then gave the
mole a large rat just killed, when it at once proceeded to eat out its
eyes, and by 4 o'clock next afternoon one side of the rat’s head, bone,
together with the brains, were eaten, and strange to say, the mole
looked no lancer... .2° <5. Our curiosity was aroused to know by
what means a mole or shrew could kill mice which were larger than
itself; so four large meadow mice being procured, they were placed
in the boiler with the mole, which as soon as it met a mouse, showed
fight, but the mouse knocked it away with its front feet and leaped
as far away as‘it could. The mole from the first seemed not to see
very plainly and started around the boiler at a lively rate, reaching
and scenting in all directions with its long nose, like a pig that has
broken into a back yard and smells the swill barrel. The mice seem-

ed terror-stricken, momentarily rising on their hind legs, looking for

68 MAMMALIA.

some place to escape, leaping about squeaking in their efforts to keep
out of the way of the mole which pursued them constantly. The
mole’s mode of attack was to seize the mouse in the region of the
throat. This it did by turning its head as it. sprang at the mouse, at
the same time uttering a chattering sound. The mice would strike
at, and_usually knock the mole away with their front feet, but if the
latter got a hold of the mouse, it would then try to bite, and they
would both tumble about like dogs ina fight. The little chap at last
attacked one mouse and kept with it, and in about ten minutes had
it killed; but even before it was dead the mole commenced eating its
eyes and face. About ten minutes later the mole had devoured all
the head of the mouse and continued to eat. I have captured and
caged several moles this winter and they all display the same untiring
greedy nature. According to my observations the little mammal
under consideration eats about twice or three times its own weight
of food every 24 hours and when we consider that their principal
food consists of insects, it is quite bewildering to imagine the myriads
one must destroy in a year.” *

Upon reading the above very interesting observations, I immedi-
ately wrote to Mr. Morden for a specimen of the “ mole” in question.
It was kindly sent me and proved to be an unusually large Short-
tailed Shrew (larina brevicauda).

I had not previously known that the Shrew was a mouse-eater,
and hence determined to repeat Mr. Morden’s experiments. There-
fore, having caught a vigorous, though undersized Shrew, I put him
in a large wooden box and provided him with an ample supply of
beechnuts, which he ate eagerly. He was also furnished with a
saucer of water, from which he frequently drank. After he had re-
mained two days in these quarters, I placed in the box with him an
uninjured and very active white-footed mouse. The Shrew at the

time weighed 11.20 grammes, while the mouse, which was a

* Canadian Sportsman and Naturalist, vol. III, Nos. XI & XII, December, 1883 [not published
till February, 1884], p. 283.

BLARINA BREVICAUDA. 69

large adult male, weighed just 17 grammes. No sooner did the
Shrew become aware of the presence of the mouse than he gave
chase. The mouse, though much larger than the Shrew, showed no
disposition to fight, and his superior agility enabled him, for a long
time, easily to evade his pursuer, for at a single leap he would pass
over the latter’s head and to a considerable distance beyond. The
Shrew labored at great disadvantage, not only from his inability to
keep pace with the mouse, but also, and to a still greater extent,
from his defective eyesight. He frequently passed within two inches
31 mm.) of the mouse without knowing of his whereabouts. But
he was persistent, and explored over and over again every part of
the box, constantly putting the mouse to flight. Indeed, it was by
sheer perseverance that he so harassed the mouse, that the latter,
fatigued by almost continuous exertion, and also probably weakened
by fright, was no longer able to escape. He was first caught by the
tail; this proved a temporary stimulant, and he bounded several
times across the box, dragging his adversary after him. The Shrew
did not seem in the least disconcerted at being thus harshly jerked
about his domicil, but continued the pursuit with great determination.
He next seized the mouse in its side, which resulted in a rough and
tumble, the two rolling over and over and biting each other with
much energy. The mouse freed himself, but was so exhausted that
the Shrew had no difficulty in keeping alongside, and soon had him
by the ear. The mouse rolled and kicked and scratched and bit, but
to no avail. The Shrew was evidently much pleased and forthwith
began to devour the ear. When he had it about half eaten-off the
mouse again tore himself free; but his inveterate little foe did not
suffer him to escape. This time the Shrew clambered up over his
back and was soon at work consuming the remainder of the ear.
This being satisfactorily accomplished, he continued to push on in
the same direction till he had cut through the skull and eaten the
brains, together with the whole side of the head and part of the
shoulder. This completed his first meal, which occupied not quite

70 MAMMALIA.

fifteen minutes after the death of the mouse. As soon as he had
finished eating I again placed him upon the scales and found that he
weighed exactly 12. grammes—an increase of .80 gramme.

The Shrew was half an hour in tiring the mouse, and another half
hour in killing him. But it must be remembered that he was not
fully grown, and was doubtless, on this account, longer in capturing
and killing his victim than would have been the case had he been an
adult. Still, it is clear that a Shrew could never catch mice on open
ground, His small size, however, enables him readily to enter their
holes and to follow them to their nests and the remotest ramifications
of their burrows, where, having no escape, he can slay them with
fearful certainty.

The eagerness with which my Shrew pursued the mouse placed in
his box, and the persistency and success with which he directed his
attempts to destroy the latter by eating into its head, clearly shows
that this was not his first exploit in that direction. And the fact that
Mr. Morden’s Shrews, in Ontario, Canada, acted in the same manner
proves that the habit is not .of local origin. Therefore, it is
reasonable to infer that the Short-tailed Shrew preys largely upon
mice, and is, consequently, of great economic value to the farmer.
Indeed, after the skunk, I am inclined to assign him the first place
amongst those of our mammals that are beneficial to the agriculturist.

The Shrews that I have had in confinement have been kept in a
large box, the bottom of which was well covered with earth and
dead leaves, fresh from the woods. Water was given them in a
saucer, which they soon discovered and drank freely. They were
exceedingly active, but always moved on a walk or trot, or by short
springs, never proceeding in a series of leaps. Whenever I ap-
proached the box they would run about with their heads thrown up,
sniffing the air in various directions, and starting spasmodically at the
slightest noise. When angry, they utter a shrill, chattering cry.

I have one alive at the present time. When first put in the box

he gathered all the leaves and rootlets into one corner, constructing

BLARINA BREVICAUDA, 71
a rough nest, to which he always retires when he wants to rest. He
is very fond of beechnuts and thrived when fed exclusively on them
for more than a week. One evening, not long ago, I put a handful
of beechnuts in his water saucer. He soon found them and carried
them off. Part he buried in a hole under the saucer, part under his
nest, and the rest in an excavation near one corner of the box.
This certainly looks as if the animal was in the habit of hoarding for
winter. In opening the nuts he invariably commences at the small
end, and, after biting a little hole there, strips off one side as neatly
as it can be done witha penknife. If left without food for a few hours
he will eat corn from the cob, beginning at the outside of the kernel,
but it is very clear that he does not relish this fare. He will also eat
Indian meal and oats when other food is not at hand. Slugs and
earth worms he devours with avidity, always starting at one end, and
manipulating them with his fore-paws. But of the various kinds of
food placed before him he shows an unmistakable preference for
mice—either dead or alive.

The late Robert Kennicott, in a valuable paper upon ‘* The Quad-
rupeds of Illinois Injurious and Beneficial to the Farmer,’ contributed
the following. to the life-history of this little-known mammal :—
«“T have several times kept specimens in captivity for a day or two,
though they always died by the end of that time, despite my care.
While alive, the minute black eye is distinctly seen and always open ;
but, though the sense of sight may be possessed in the dark, it
certainly is not used in the full light. Upon waving different objects
before one, or thrusting my finger or a stick close to its face, no
notice was taken of it whatever ; but if I made any noise near by, it
always started. If the floor were struck, or even the air disturbed,
it would start back from that direction. I observed no indication
that an acute sense of smell enabled it to recognize objects at any
considerable distance ; but its hearing was remarkable. An exceed-
ingly delicate sense of touch was exhibited by the whiskers, and if,

after irritating a shrew, I placed a stick against it, in even the most

72 MAMMALIA.

gentle manner, the animal would instantly spring at it. I could see
that, in running along the floor, it stopped the moment its whiskers
touched anything ; and often, when at full speed, it would turn aside
just before reaching an object against which it seemed about to strike,
and which it certainly had not seen. Unless enraged by being
teazed, it endeavored to smell every new object with which its
whiskers came in contact, turning its long flexible snout with great
facility for this purpose.

“My caged specimens, both male and female, exhibited great
pugnacity. When I touched one several times with a stick, it would
become much enraged, snapping and crying out angrily. When
attacked by a meadow-mouse (Avrvicola scalopsoides) confined in a
cage with it one fought fiercely ; and though it did not pursue its
adversary when the latter moved off, neither did it ever retreat ; but
the instant the mouse came close, it sprang at him, apparently not
guided in the least by sight. It kept its nose and whiskers constantly
moving from side to side, and often sprang forward with an angry
cry, when the mouse was not near, as if deceived in thinking it had
heard or felt a movement in that direction. In fighting, it did not
spring up high, nor attempt to leap upon its adversary, as the mouse,
but jerked itself along, stopping firmly, with the fore-feet well forward,
and the head high. On coming in contact with the mouse, it:
snapped at him, and, though it sometimes rose on its hind-feet in
the struggle, I did not observe that it used its fore-feet as weapons
of offence, like the arvicola. Its posture, when on guard, was always
with the feet spread and firmly braced, and the head held with the
snout pointing upwards, and the mouth and chin forward, in which
position its eyes would have been of no use, could it have seen.
The motions of this animal, when angry, are characterized by a pe-
culiar firmness ; the muscles appear to be held very rigid, while the
movements are made by quick energetic jerks. Short springs, either
backward, forward, or sidewise, appear to be made with equal readi-

ness.

BLARINA BREVICAUDA. 73

‘This shrew is quite active as well as strong ; the snout and head
are powerful, and seem to be much used in burrowing ; the tough
cartilaginous snout received no injury from the rough edge of a pane
of glass, under which that of a caged specimen was forcibly thrust in
endeavoring:to raise it. When liberated, upon a smooth floor, it
runs rapidly, without ever leaping, placing only the toes on the
surface ; though in moving slowly the whole tarsi of the hind-feet
are brought down. By placing an ear of corn, over 2 inches in
diameter, at the edge of the room, and chasing a shrew towards it by
striking the floor behind the animal, | have seen one several times
spring over it, apparently without great effort; but if not much
frightened, it would always go round objects an inch high, running
close along them, as it did beside the wall, invariably feeling its way.
One would never leave the side of the wall to run across the room,
and would always run round the side of its cage, rather than go across
the middle. When hurt or irritated, it uttered a short, sharp, tremu-
lous note, like zee-c, and, when it was much enraged, this note be-
came longer, harsher, and twittering, like that of some buntings or
sparrows. Sometimes, a short, clear cry was uttered, the voice call-
ing to mind that of the common mink (Pxéoréus vison), but softer and
lower.” *

Professor E. D. Cope published the following note “On a Habit
of a Species of Blarina” in the American Naturalist for August. 1873
(vol. VII, No. 8, pp. 490-491): “I recently placed a water-snake
( Tropidonotus sipedon) of two feet in length, in a fernery which was
inhabited by a shrew, either a large Alarina Carolinens?s or a small
B. talpoides. The snake was vigorous when placed in the case in
the afternoon and bit at everything within reach. The next morning
the glass sides of his prison were streaked with dirt and other marks,
to the height of the reach of the snake, bearing witness to his ener-

getic efforts to escape. He was then lying on the earthen floor, in

* Report of the Commissioner of Patents for the Year 1857. Agriculture. 1858. pp. 95-96.

6

74 MAMMALIA.

an exhausted state, making a few ineffectual efforts to twist his body,
while the A4larina was busy tearing out his masseter and temporal
muscles. A large part of the flesh was eaten from his tail, and the
temporal and masseter muscles and eye of one side, were removed,
so that the under jaw hung loose. The temporal was torn loose
from the cranium on the other side, and as I watched him the Blarzna
cut the other side of the mandible loose, and began to tear the
longicolli and rectus muscles. His motions were quite frantic, and
he jerked and tore out considerable fragments with his long anterior
teeth. He seemed especially anxious to get down the snake’s throat

(where some of his kin had probably ‘ gone before’), and revolved
on his long axis, now with his belly up, now with his sides, in his
energetic efforts. He had apparently not been bitten by the snake,
and was uninjured. Whether the shrew killed the snake is of course
uncertain, but the animus with which he devoured the reptile gives
some color to the suspicion that he in some way frightened him to
exhaustion.”

The Shrew is rarely eaten by birds or beasts of prey, but is
usually left where killed, which fact is doubtless due to the offensive |
odor from its scent glands. That it is sometimes eaten appears
from the fact that a disgorged pellet from some bird of prey, found
in the Catskills by Mr. E. P. Bicknell and Dr. A. K. Fisher, contained
the recognizable remains of this species.*

The Short-tailed Shrew is readily taken in an ordinary mouse-trap,
baited with meat, set near the mouth of a burrow. I have caught.
many in this way.

I am not aware that anything has been published relating to its
breeding habits, and the only facts that I can contribute are in regard
to the time when its young are produced. On the 22d of April,
1878, I found a couple of these Shrews under a plank-walk near my
museum. They proved to be male and female, and the latter con-

tained young which, from their size, would probably have been born

* Bicknell in Trans. Linn. Soc., vol. I, 1882, p. 122.

SOREX COOPERI. 75

early in May. Another female, caught near the same place, April
21, 1884, contained five large embryos which would certainly have
been born within ten days. They weighed, together, 4.20 grammes.
I procured a half-grown young, February 10, 1884, which must have
been born late in the fall. Hence two or three litters are probably
produced each season. The young born in autumn do not breed in
the spring following, as I have demonstrated by repeated dissections

of both sexes.

SOREX COOPERI Bachman,
Cooper's Shrew.

This diminutive Shrew, the smallest known mammalian inhabitant
of the Adirondacks, is quite common in most parts of the region, but
much more abundant some years than others. Its food is supposed
to consist wholly of insects and their larvae, and the carcasses of
animals that chance throws in its way.

Like its congeners, it manifests a predilection for the immediate
vicinage of old logs and stumps, and its holes can frequently be found,
both in summer and winter, in these places, and about the roots of
trees.

Underground life does not appear to be as attractive to it as to its
relatives, the moles, yet it avoids too much exposure and commonly
moves, by night and by day, under cover of the fallen leaves, twigs,
and other deér7s that always cover the ground in our northern forests.

The Naturalist well knows that, however cautiously he may walk,
the stir of his footstep puts to flight many forms of life that will re-
appear as soon as quiet is restored; therefore, in his excursions
through the woods, he waits and watches, frequently stopping to
listen and observe. While thus occupied it sometimes happens that
a slight rustling reaches his ear. There is no wind, hut the eye rests
upon a fallen leaf that seems to move. Presently another stirs and

perhaps a third turns completely over. Then something evanescent,

76 MAMMALIA.

like the shadow of an embryonic mouse, appears and vanishes before
the retina can catch its perfect image. Anon, the restless phantom
flits across an open space, leaving no trace behind. But a charge of
fine shot, dropped with quick aim upon the next leaf that moves, will
usually solve the mystery. The author of the perplexing commotion
is found to be a curious sharp-nosed creature, no bigger than one’s
little finger, and weighing hardly more than half adram.* _ Its cease-
less activity, and the rapidity with which it darts from place to place,
is truly astonishing, and rarely permits the observer a correct im-
pression of its form.

Whenever a tree or a large limb falls to the ground, these Shrews
soon find it, examining every part with great care, and if a knot-hole
or crevice is detected, leading to a cavity within, they are pretty sure
to enter, carry in materials for a nest, and take formal possession.
Hence their homes are not infrequently discovered and destroyed by
the wood-chopper.

They are sometimes found in ede and I remember killing
eleven in one day, several years ago, under hay-cocks that had been
standing a few days in the rain.

Not only are these agile and restless little Shrews voracious and
almost: insatiable, consuming incredible quantities of raw meat and
insects with great eagerness, but they are veritable cannibals withal,
and will even slay and devour their ownkind.__[ once confined three
of them under an ordinary tumbler. Almost immediately they com-
menced fighting, and in a few minutes one was slaughtered and eaten
by the other two. Before night one of these killed and ate its only
surviving companion, and its abdomen was much distended by the
meal. Hence in less than eight hours one of these tiny wild beasts
had attacked, overcome, and ravenously consumed two of its own
species, each as large and heavy as itself! The functions of diges-
tion, assimilation, and the- elimination of waste are performed with

wonderful ae and it seems yous se Tl: = they should

* The largest specimen 1 have recently examined foi this region tea 2.85 grammes.

SOREX PLATYRHINUS.

NI
all

be able to procure sufficient animal food to sustain them during our
long and severe winters ; indeed, I incline to believe that their diet
is more comprehensive than most writers suppose, and that they
feed upon beechnuts and a variety of seeds, and possibly roots as
well, though I confess that I have no direct evidence to adduce in

support of this supposition.

SOREX PLATYRHINUS (DeKay) Linsley.

Broad-nosed Shrew.

This species, which was first described by Dr. DeKay, from a speci-
men taken in this State, is not rare in the Adirondacks, though I do not
think it is as plentiful here as Sorex Coopert, which it much re-
sembles in habits.

Its diminutive size does not exempt it from the attacks of predatory
birds, for, in April, 1882, I shot, at Morse Lake, a Canada Jay whose
stomach contained the remains, including the under jaw, of a Shrew
which seemed to be of the present species. I have also taken it at
Big Moose Lake.

The individual from which Dr. DeKay's description was drawn,
was captured “at Tappan, Rockland county, in the cellar of a dwell-
ing-house, having taken up its abode between the stones of the
foundation. It was exceedingly agile ; and when excited, emitted a
shrill, twittering squeak. It ate greedily of fresh meat, but died in
the course of a few days. Through the politeness of my friend, the
Rev. J. H. Linsley of Elmwood Place, Connecticut, I had an oppor-
tunity of examining another specimen, which was obtained from a
log in the forest in winter, near Stratford. According to Mr. Linsley,
it weighed 47 grains.” * Prof. Baird mentions a specimen that

weighed but 37 grains. + :

* Zoology of New York. Part I, 1842, p. 23.
+ Pacific Rail Road Reports, vol. VIII, 1857, p. 26.

78 MAMMALIA.

Order CHIROPTERA. Family VESPERTILIONID.

ATALAPHA ‘CINEREA (Beauvois) Peters.

Hoary Bat.

This species, which differs from the red bat in its much larger
size, as well as in coloration, is not rare in the Adirondacks, and I
have taken it both in the interior and along the western border of
the region.

The Hoary Bat can be recognized, even in the dusk of evening,
by its great size, its long and pointed wings, and the swiftness and
irregularity of its flight. It does not start out so early as our other
bats, and is consequently much more difficult to shoot. The borders
of woods, water courses, and roadways through the forest are among
its favorite resorts, and its nightly range is vastly greater than that
of any of its associates. While the other species are extremely local,
moving to and fro over a very restricted area, this traverses a com-
paratively large extent of territory in its evening excursions, which
fact is probably attributable to its superior power of flight.

Imagine for the moment, sympathetic reader, that you are an
enthusiastic bat hunter, and have chanced to visit some northern
forest where this handsome species occurs. The early evening finds
you, gun in hand, near the border of a lonely wood. The small bats
soon begin to fly, and in the course of fifteen or twenty minutes you
may have killed several, all of which prove to be the silver-haired
species (Vesperugo noctivagans). The twilight is fast fading into
night, and your eyes fairly ache from the constant effort of searching
its obscurity, when suddenly a large bat is seen approaching, perhaps
high above the tree-tops, and has scarcely entered the limited field
of vision when, in swooping for a passing insect, he cuts the line of
the distant horizon and disappears in the darkness below. In breath-
less suspense you wait for him to rise, crouching low that his form
may be sooner outlined against the dim light that still lingers in the

northwest, when he suddenly shoots by, seemingly as big as an owl,

ATALAPHA CINEREA. 79

within a few feet of your very eyes. Turning quickly you fire, but
too late! He has vanished in the darkness. For more than a week
each evening is thus spent, and you almost despair of seeing another
Hoary Bat, when, perhaps, on a clear cold night, just as the darkness is
becoming too intense to permit you to shoot with accuracy and you
are on the point of turning away, something appears above the
horizon that sends a thrill of excitement through your whole frame.
There is no mistaking the species—the size, the sharp, narrow wings,
and the swift flight serve instantly to distinguish it from its nocturnal
comrades. On he comes, but just before arriving within gunshot he
makes one of his characteristic zig-zag side-shoots and you tremble
as he momentarily vanishes from view. Suddenly he reappears, his
flight becomes more steady, and now he sweeps swiftly toward you.
No time is to be lost, and it is already too dark to aim, so you bring

o, stridu-

the gun quickly to your shoulder and fire. With a piercing,

lous cry, he falls to the earth. In an instant you are stooping to
pick him up, but the sharp grating screams, uttered with a tone of
intense anger, admonish you to observe discretion. With delight you
cautiously take him in your hand and hurry to the light to feast your
eyes upon his rich and handsome markings. He who can gaze upon
a freshly killed example without feelings of admiration is not worthy to
be called a naturalist. From its almost boreal distribution, and extreme
rarity in collections, the capture of a specimen of the Hoary Bat must,
for some time to come, be regarded as an event worthy of congratu-
lation and record. Although I have been fortunate enough to shoot
fourteen, I would rather kill another to-day than slay a dozen deer,
During the past season Dr. A. K. Fisher, Walter H. Merriam, and
myself shot nineteen specimens of this elegant species in and near
the western border of the Adirondacks. It is not to be imagined,
however, that the procurement of this extensive series (extensive for
so rare an animal) was an easy task. Scarcely a suitable evening
passed, throughout the entire season, that was not devoted to bat

huntine. From the middle of June to the middle of July, when there

80 MAMMALIA.

is nearly an hour of twilight, the silver-haired and little brown bats
begin to fly shortly after eight o'clock, but the present species is
seldom seen till half an hour later, and those we killed were common-
ly shot about 9 p.m. As the season advances and the evenings be-
come shorter, all bats, of course, appear proportionately earlier. On
the 3d of August I shot Atalapha cinerea at eight o'clock, and on
the 8th of October at precisely 6 o’clock—three hours earlier than
the same species was killed during the first part of July.

In warm evenings it was not to be seen at all, and I have never
observed it when the temperature was above 15° C. (59° F.). It was
most often seen when the thermometer ranged from 10° to 12° C.
(50° to 53.6°F.). Assuming that the species does not leave its
hiding-place when the temperature is above 15° or 16°C. it might
be supposed that it would suffer for food if there were several suc-
cessive warm evenings. But it must be remembered that the coolest
part of the twenty-four hours is just before daylight, and throughout
the northern regions inhabited by this species there are few days
when the temperature does not fall to 15°C. in the early morn-
ing. Moreover, it is well known that most bats are as active
just before daylight as in the evening. Hence, if the evenings
are too warm for its comfort, it would almost always be enabled,
by the falling temperature, to sally forth at some later hour of the
night.

The Hoary Bat occurs about the Red River settlement in British
America, and Dr. Richardson obtained it at Cumberland House on
the Saskatchewan, in lat. 54° N.* Robert Kennicott procured it
in the Hudson’s Bay Company’s territory, farther north than any
other species of bat has been taken. It is a summer resident of
high latitudes, its southern limit in the east coinciding, apparently,
with that of the Canadian Fauna. In the west it has been taken

in Arizona and New Mexico, but only, so far as I am aware, at

considerable altitudes. In the fall and early winter isolated indi-

* Fauna Boreali Americana, vol. I, 1829, p. I.

ATALAPHA CINEREA. SI

viduals have been procured from localities so far to the southward
of its usual habitat that I am constrained to believe it a migratory
species. William Cooper mentions a specimen that was killed, ‘ in
the month of November, near the hights of Weehawken, in New
Jersey ;” * DeKay says that he.“ noticed two flying about quite
actively shortly before noon” on the 12th of December, 1841
(locality not mentioned, but presumably Long Island, N. Y.);+
Zadock Thompson secured one that was taken alive at Colchester,
Vermont, about the last of October, 1841;{ and Mr. E. P. Bick-
nell tock one from an overhanging branch at Riverdale-on-the-
Hudson, New York, September 30th, 1878.8 Dr. A. K. Fisher
has- never taken it at Sing Sing, New York, where he has shot
several hundred bats in summer, though he is confident that he
saw a single individual there on the evening of October rst, 1883.

Nothing whatever appears to be known of the breeding habits
of the Hoary Bat. On the evening of the 30th of June last (1883)
Dr. A. K. Fisher shot a large female (measuring 422mm. in spread
of wings) at my home in Lewis County. It had already given
birth to its young, and each of its four mamme bore evidence of
having recently been nursed. That the species ruts about the first
of August there can be no reasonable doubt, for I saw more of
them from the 3oth of July till the 6th of August than I have seen
in all before and since, and twelve adult specimens killed during
that brief period were all males. They were not feeding, but were
rushing wildly about, evidently in search of the females. Many
flew so high as to be entirely out of range though directly over-
head. The only young I have ever seen was shot here, August
6th, 1883, by Walter H. Merriam. It was nearly full grown

* Researches on the Cheiroptera of the United States, Annals Lyceum Natural History, N. Y.,
1837, p. 56.

+ Zoology of New York. Part 1, 1842, p. 8.
}{ Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1842, p. 25.

§ Mr. Bicknell writes me that ‘‘it was met with about sunrise, hanging at a height of about six
feet, in a young tree in an opening near the border of a wood.”

82 MAMMALIA.

(measuring 4oomm. in extent) and differed from the adults chiefly
in being a little lighter colored.

Zadock Thompson, in his paper upon the mammals of Vermont,
speaks thus of this species: ‘“‘ The only Vermont specimen, which
I have examined, and that from which the preceding description
was drawn, was sent me alive by my friend, David Reed, Esq., of
Colchester. It was taken at his place in Colchester, the latter part
of October, 1841, and was kept alive for some time in a large willow
basket with a flat cover of the same material. On opening the
basket, he was almost invariably found suspended by his hind claws
from the central part of the cover. When the basket was open,
he manifested little fear, or disposition to fly, or get away, during
the day time, but in the evening would readily mount on the wing
and fly about the room, and on lighting always suspended himself
by his hind claws with his head downward. He ate fearlessly and
voraciously of fresh meat when offered to him, but could not be
made to eat the common house fly.” *

The hour at which bats leave their retreats to begin their noc-
turnal excursions is governed, first, by the latitude, longitude, and
altitude of the locality, and the time of the year; and, second, by
the character of the sky (whether clear or overcast), and the ex-
posure—those living along the southern and eastern borders of
woodlands, and in dark ravines, appearing earlier than those whose
hiding-places face the setting sun. In other words, the time at
which bats appear depends solely upon the degree of darkness.

Hence it follows that their nightly exodus, in a given locality,
does not take place at a fixed period after the disappearance of the
sun; for, during the first part of October, in this latitude, the dark-
ness is as great half an hour after sunset as it is an hour after three
months earlier. Therefore, in estimating the exact hour at which
bats are to be expected at any stated date, it is necessary not only
to consider the time the sun sets, but also to take into account the

* Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1842, p. 25.

ATALAPHA NOVEBORACENSIS. 83

duration of the twilight. Moreover, in the same locality, the
several species do not commence to fly at the same hour, for each
seems to await a particular and different degree of darkness. The
Hoary Bat is one of the last to appear, and for this reason its
capture is the most difficult. In Lewis County, during the latter
part of June, it does not start out (excepting in deep forests and
dark valleys) till about 8.45 p. M., or a full hour after sunset ; while
in the early part of October I have killed it at 6 p. M., or just half
an hour after sundown. The following table is calculated to illus-

trate the above remarks :-—

Times of evening appearances of Atalapha cinerea at Locust Grove,
New York, at different dates in 1883.

Date. Sunset. First Bat Seen. Time after Sunset.
ume 0, 7.42 o'clock, 8.45 o'clock, 63 minutes.
July 9, aor. S207 52 s
aly: 31, Fut S.LOm m 49 i
PRS. 3, Tn 8:00". 7 43 «
eee ae (CMe a elo es 38 “
Oct. 3, Caco as Glo tS 30 as

ATALAPHA NOVEBORACENSIS (Erxleben) Peters.
Red Bat; New York Bat.

This species ranks among the least common bats of the area
under consideration. I have shot it here as late as October 12th
(1883).

Excepting the hoary bat it is the most beautiful of its tribe,
being clad in a thick coat of soft, glossy fur of a bright golden-red
color, varying somewhat in shade, and tipped to a greater or less
extent with silvery white. This coloration serves, at a glance, to
distinguish it from all its associates.

The Red Bat generally makes its appearance earlier in the

evening than the other species, evidently fancying the dusk of

84 MAMMALIA.

twilight more than the increased darkness of advancing night ; and
I have killed it even on a cloudy afternoon, while flying to and fro
in pursuit of insects, near the border of a hard-wood grove. I have
found several of them asleep, in the day-time, hanging by their
thumb-nails to small twigs or leaf-stems within easy reach. When
thus suspended they are, at a little distance, easily mistaken for ~
dead leaves, or the cocoons of some large moth.

“In most portions of the United States, the Red Bat is one of
the most abundant, characteristic, and familiar species, being rivalled
in these respects by the little Brown Bat alone. It would be safe
to say that, in any given instance of a bat entering our rooms in
the evening, the chances are a hundred to one of its being either
one or the other of these two species. The perfect noiselessness
and swiftness of its flight, the extraordinary agility with which it
evades obstacles—even the most dexterous strokes designed for its
capture—and the unwonted shape, associated in popular superstition
with the demons of the shades, conspire to revulsive feelings that
need little fancy to render weird and uncanny.” *

As illustrating the devoted attachment of the mother for her
young, Dr. Godman quotes the following circumstance from Mr.
Titian Peale: “In June, 1823, the son of Mr. Gillespie, keeper of
the city square, caught a young red Bat, ( Vespertzlio Nov-Ebora-
censts, ..) which he took home with him. Three hours afterwards,
in the evening, as he was conveying it to the Museum in his hand,
while passing near the place where it was caught, the mother made
her appearance, followed the boy for two squares, flying around
him, and finally alighted on his breast, such was her anxiety to save
her offspring. Both were brought to the Museum, the young one
firmly adhering to its mother’s teat. This faithful creature lived

two days in the Museum, and then died of injuries received from

* Drs. Coues and Yarrow in their ‘‘ Monographic Essay’ on North American Chiroptera, pub-
lished in chap. II, vol. V, Report upon Explorations and Surveys West - of the One Hundredth
Meridian, in charge of Lieut. G. M. Wheeler, 1875, p. 89.

ATALAPHA NOVEBORACENSIS. 85

her captor. The young one, being but half grown, was still too
young to take care of itself, and died shortly after.” *

Like our other bats, this species frequently hibernates in vast
assemblages ; and in regions remote from civilization each colony
usually occupies a rocky cavern or hollow tree ; in inhabited dis-
tricts they often take up quarters in the ruin of some deserted
building, particularly of structures composed of stone and brick.
Dr. Godman publishes a letter from Prof. Jacob Green, of Prince-
ton, containing an account of the presence and actions of a host of
this species in a cave that he visited November ist, 1816. The
letter runs as follows: “I this day visited an extensive cavern
about twelve miles south of Albany, N. Y. I did not measure its
extent into the mountain, but it was at least three or four hundred
feet. There was nothing remarkable in this cave, except the vast
multitudes of Bats which had selected this unfrequented place, to
pass the winter. They did not appear to be much disturbed by
the light of the torches carried by our party, but, upon being
touched with sticks, they instantly recovered animation and activity,
and flew into the dark passages of the cavern. As the cave was,
for the most part, not more than six or seven feet in height, they
could very easily be removed from the places to which they were
suspended, and some of the party, who were behind me, disturbed
some hundreds of them at once, when they swept by me in swarms
to more remote, darker, and safer places of retreat. In flying
through the caves they made little or no noise; sometimes upon
being disturbed in one place they flew but a few yards and then
instantly settled in another, in a state of torpor apparently as pro-
found as before. These Bats, in hibernating, suspend themselves
by the hinder claws, from the roof or upper part of the cave; in no
instance did I observe one along the sides. They were not pro-
miscuously scattered, but were collected into groups or clusters, of

some hundreds, all in close contact. On holding a candle within a

* American Natural History. By John D. Godman. Vol. I, 1842, p. 42.

6 MAMMALIA.

ee)

few inches of one of these groups, they were not in the least
troubled by it: their eyes continued closed, and I could perceive
no signs of respiration. On opening the stomach of one of these
Bats, it was found entirely empty; the species, I believe, was the
V. Noveboracensts.” * E
The young of this species continue to nurse till at least a month
old. I shot a female on the 31st of July (1883) whose udders still
contained milk, and whose long nipples were much drawn out. . A
week later (Aug. 7th), I killed a full grown young flying over the

same meadow.

VESPERUGO SEROTINUS FUSCUS (Schreber) Dobson.

Dusky Bat; Carolina Bat.

Professor Baird has taken this species at Westport, in Essex
County, on the eastern border of the Adirondacks, and I have
procured a single specimen in Lewis County, on the western side
of the district ; but it is unquestionably the rarest bat found within
the limits of this region. It pertains to a more southern fauna.

In writing of the habits of the Carolina Bat, Dr. A. K. Fisher
observes: ‘‘ They are the last to make their appearance in the
evening. In fact, when it gets.so dark that objects are blended in
one uncertain mass, and the bat hunter finds that he is unable to
shoot with any precision, the Carolina Bats make their appearance
as mere dark shadows flitting here and there while busily engaged
in catching insects. We have to make a snap shot as they dodge
in and out from behind the dark tree-tops, and are left in doubt as
to the result until in the gloom we may perchance see our little
black and tan, seemingly as interested in the result as we are,
pointing the dead animal. This species is particularly fond of
fields well surrounded by trees.” +

* Ibid., pp. 48-49.
+ Forest and Stream, vol. XVI, No. 25, July 21, 18381, p. 490.

VESPERUGO SEROTINUS FUSCUS. 57

The large membranous wings of the bat serve a double function :
not only do they sustain the animal in a strong and rapid flight,
enabling it to make quick and abrupt turns in the noiseless pursuit
of its insect prey ; but they are also sensitive to an extreme degree,
constituting organs of touch of unusual delicacy. They thus en-
able the bat with a certainty that is little short of marvellous, to
avoid the most inconspicuous objects that may lie in its way. On
this point Dr. Godman remarks: ‘ We have already glanced at
the singular fact, that Bats have the power of directing their flight
with perfect correctness, even when deprived of their sight. In
1793, Spallanzani put out the eyes of a Bat, and observed that it
appeared to fly with as much ease as before, and without striking
against objects in its way, following the curve of a ceiling, and
avoiding, with accuracy, everything against which it was expected
to strike. Not only were blinded Bats capable of avoiding such
objects as parts of a building, but they shunned, with equal address,
the most delicate obstacles, even silken threads, stretched in such
a manner as to leave just space enough for them to pass with their
wings expanded. When these threads were placed nearer together,
the Bats contracted their wings, in order to pass between them
without touching. They also passed with the same security be-
tween branches of trees placed to intercept them, and suspended
themselves by the wall, &c., with as much ease as if they could see
distinctly.” (American Natural History, vol. I, pp. 42-43.)

Dr. Joseph Schébl, of Prague, repeated these experiments, but
instead of putting out the eyes he covered them with adhesive
plaster.

‘“He has kept bats, thus treated, for a year alive in his room,
and has entirely confirmed Spallanzani’s results. To account for
these phenomena, the wings of bats have been examined for
peculiar nerve-endings, by Cuvier, Leydig, and Krause, but with-
out any success. The author's discoveries are therefore quite new

to science. The following is a short abstract of his results. The

88 MAMMALIA.

bat’s wing membrane consists of two sheets of skin, the upper de-
rived from that of the back, the lower from that of the belly. The
epidermic and Malpighian layers in each sheet remain separate,
whilst the true skin is inseparably fused. In this fused medium
layer are imbedded the muscles, nerves, vessels, etc., of the wing.
The whole wing is covered, both on the upper and
under surface, with extremely fine, sparsely scattered hairs.
Each hair sac has from two to seven sebaceous glands, according
to the species, and one sweat gland opening into its sac. The two
outer fibrous layers of the hair sac have no sharp line of demarca-
tion to separate them from the surrounding connective tissue, but
the inner or hyaline coat is highly developed, and, after being con-
stricted beneath the hair bulb, widens out and encloses the sense-
bodies (Tastkérperchen), one of which organs is connected with
each hair. .

“The nerves of the wings may be considered to consist of five
layers, i. e., there is one occupying the centre of a transverse sec-
tion of the wing, which gives off on each side of it four others, and
these are successively finer and finer as they approach the opposite
surfaces. The inner layer and the one immediately on each side
of it, consist of nerve fibres with dark borders, the other layers of
pale fibres only. The tastkirperchen are connected with the second
layer. The fifth layer of finest fibres ends as a network between
the innermost layer of cells of the Malpighian layer of the epidermis.
The tastkérperchen are shaped like a fir-cone with a rounded apex
turned inwards. They lie immediately below the root of the hair ;
and their core or central substance is formed of a prolongation of
the cells forming the two root sheaths of the hair. Their length
is 0.0259 and their breadth 0.0175mm. A nerve containing about
six dark-edged fibres is distributed to each kérperchen. Just
before the nerve reaches this organ it splits into two, and three
fibres pass to one side of it, three to the other. The fibres are
then wound round the body so as to sheathe its cellular core. Dr.

VESPERUGO SEROTINUS FUSCUS. 89

Schiébl thinks it probable that the fibres on one side are continuous
with those on the opposite side, and that there is thus a bipolar
arrangement here. He attributes to the fine network of pale nerve
fibres belonging to the fifth layer the appreciation of temperature,
pain, &c.; to the tastkérperchen the highly exalted sense of touch.
It is curious that both kinds of nerve endings are connected with
the Malpighian layer of the skin.” *

Rafinesque, that eccentric, irascible, and not over liberal natural-
ist, whose inaccurate and ambiguous descriptions of species have cre-
ated so much confusion in many departments of Natural History, was
once the guest of the illustrious Audubon. The event was the
occasion of a somewhat ludicrous adventure, which Mr. Audubon
thus graphically narrates : ‘““ When it was waxed late I showed him
to the apartment intended for him during his stay, and endeavored
to render him comfortable, leaving him writing material in
abundance. I was indeed heartily glad to have a naturalist under
my roof. We had all retired to rest. Every person I imagined
was in deep slumber, save myself, when of a sudden I heard a
great uproar in the naturalist’s room. I got up, reached the place
in a few moments, and opened the door, when, to my astonishment,
I saw my guest running about the room naked, holding the handle
of my favorite violin, the body of which he had battered to pieces
against the walls in attempting to kill the bats, which had entered
by the open window, probably attracted by the insects flying
around his candle. I stood amazed, but he continued running
round and round, until he was fairly exhausted; when he begged
me to procure one of the animals for him, as he felt convinced they
belonged to a new species.” +

* American Naturalist, Vol. V, No. 3, May, 1871, pp. 174-175.

4 Quoted in Allen’s Monograph, pp. xvi—xvii.

gO MAMMALIA.

VESPERUGO NOCTIVAGANS (LeConte) Dobson.
Silver-hatred Bat; Silver-Black Bat.

This is our commonest bat, far outnumbering all the other
species together. I have, killed it in various parts of the Wilder-
ness, and during the past summer Dr. A. K. Fisher, Walter H.
Merriam, and myself shot over one hundred and twenty-five in
Lewis County, along the western border of the region.

Like many other bats, it has a decided liking for water ways,
coursing up and down streams and rivers, and circling around lakes
and ponds. In some places its habit of keeping directly over the
water is very marked. At Lyon’s Falls it is exceedingly abundant,
particularly just below the falls. I have stood, gun in hand,
on a point on the east bank of the river, and have seen hundreds
passing and repassing, flying over the water, while during the
entire evening not more than two or three strayed so far that if
shot they would fall on the land. Several that were wounded and
fell into the water, at a distance of fifteen or twenty feet from the
bank, swam ashore. They swam powerfully and swiftly, for the
current is here quite strong and would otherwise have carried them
some distance down stream.

Next to water courses, the borders of hard-wood groves are the
favorite haunts of the Silver-haired Bat. By standing close under
the edge of the trees one sees many that at a little distance would
pass unobserved. While searching for their insect prey they may
be seen to dart in and out among the branches and to penetrate,
in various directions, the dense mat of foliage overhead. They
often pass within a few inches of one’s face, and yet it is rare that

a sound is heard from their delicate wings.* In the early dusk

* In localities where we had hunted bats for some time, Dr. Fisher and I have on several occasions
heard a bat, when swooping overhead, produce a sound which was distinctly audible at a distance of
several paces. But in each instance, if the bat rose against the clear western horizon, we saw the
light shine through numerous perforations in its wings, and the noise was unquestionably produced
by the whistling of the air through these shot holes.

VESPERUGO NOCTIVAGANS, opt

the Silver-haired Bat emerges from its hiding-place.* After a few
turns about the immediate neighborhood it generally takes a pretty
direct course for water. I have seen it start from the summit of
a high, densely-wooded hill, circle around for a few minutes, and
then, keeping far above the tree-tops, sail leisurely toward a dis-
tant river till lost from sight in the valley below. And, stand-
ing on the banks of the large stream that winds along the foot of
this hill, I have seen the bats flying over at a height of several
hundred feet, all moving in the same direction—toward a more
distant river.

Whether it remains abroad all night, or limits itself to com-
paratively brief excursions in evening and early morning, can only
be conjectured. I am inclined to favor the latter view, for the
reason that the greater number always disappear before the dark-
ness becomes sufficiently intense to hide them from sight. Against
this opinion it may be argued that, as night advances, the bats
move on to other parts of the neighborhood; to which I can only
reply, that it has never been my good fortune to discover their
midnight haunts, though I have visited various sections of the
country at all hours of the night, and frequently under the light
of the full-moon. It is true that solitary individuals are occasion-
ally met with later, but never in anything like the numbers that
are to be seen in the early evening: The flight of this species is
neither so rapid nor so irregular as that of the red or the hoary bat.

In Lewis County, the best locality for bats that I am acquainted
with is near the junction of Sugar and Black Rivers. The
numerous caves in the lime rock at this point afford them a multi-
tude of hiding-places just suited to their liking, and they here have
the additional advantage of close proximity to running water.

The disproportionate abundance of the Silver-haired Bat to other

* Leaving out of consideration the red bat, which is not sufficiently common in the region under
consideration to afford satisfactory data, the present species is the first to appear. When the
evenings begin to shorten, after the end of June, it may be looked for about one minute earlier
each night.

92 MAMMALIA.

species is shown by the fact that of seventy specimens procured
here, sixty-three were of this species, six were the little brown bat
(V. subulatus), and amongst them all there was only a single red bat
(Atalapha Noveboracensis).

The dissociation of the sexes is sometimes most remarkable.
Out of eighty-five adult specimens killed in Lewis County during
the past summer (1883) there was but a single male. Two other
males were killed in the early autumn. Of thirty-two young killed
during the same period there were nineteen males and thirteen
females, showing that the disproportion does not exist at birth. I
am at a complete loss to explain this enormous preponderance of
females among the adults. At first, I was inclined to think that
the sexes separated during the period of bringing forth and car-
ing for the young, but, although we visited a number of different
localities, we were never able to find the males. Thinking that
they might not fly until early morning, I several times went out
before daylight, but females only were killed.

Mr. Frank Hough tells me that when looking for young crows,
some years ago, in the deep ravine that runs through the village
of Lowville, in Lewis County, he espied a crow’s nest in a large
and densely-foliaged hemlock. On climbing the tree he found the
nest to be an old one, and commenced tearing it in pieces, when,
to his astonishment, he discovered thirteen young bats embedded
in the sticks and litter of which it was composed. These bats
were taken home and shown to several members of the family.
Their eyes were not yet open. ‘They were, of course, the progeny
of a number of females, and presumably were of the species now
under consideration, because it is by far the most common in the
region. The young, generally two in number, are born about the
first of July, and commence to fly when three weeks old.* Those

* Females killed during the latter part of June were heavy with young, but up to July Ist not
one had given birth to its offspring. All that were killed after July 4th had already been in labor
and were then suckling their young. Of three females shot June 30th, 1883, one contained but a
single embryo, and the others, two each. All were nearly ready for extrusion and would doubtless

VESPERUGO NOCTIVAGANS. 93

killed on the first evening of their appearance averaged 90mm. in
length by 261mm. in stretch, but weighed only half as much as
their parents. The adults average about 104mm. in length by
302mm. in stretch, When on the wing the young may be dis-
tinguished from the old by the weakness and hesitancy of their
flight, rather than by the difference in size. The young are much
more beautiful than the adults, and they alone possess the perfect
silvery tips to the hairs from which the species derives its name.
Even before going into winter quarters their soft silvery backs
have given place to the grizzly coats that characterize the adults.

My esteemed friend, Mr. William Brewster, has kindly favored
me with the following very interesting account of a colony of bats
that he discovered during an ornithological excursion into the ex-
tensive coniferous forests of western Maine :—

“On June 18, 1880, I was searching for woodpecker’s nests
among the stubs that line the shores of Lake Umbagog, when I
noticed a small ragged-looking hole about two feet above the water
in a trunk that stood well out on the flooded meadows. I should
hardly have turned aside to examine it had I not fancied that I saw
something move at its entrance ; accordingly, paddling to the spot,
I struck the tree sharply with the butt of an axe. The blow was
followed, not by the appearance of a woodpecker’s or nuthatch’s
head, as I had expected, but by an outbreak of shrill squeaking
sounds that seemed to come from every part of the interior. As

have been born within forty-eight hours. The single one, a male, weighed L100 milligrammes,
and measured 43mm. in length by 79mm. in extent ; the cord measured 20mm., and the placenta
Toxt4mm. One of the other females contained twins, both of which were females ; one of them
weighed 1380 milligrammes, measuring 41mm. in length by 72mm. in stretch; cord 18mm.;
placenta 9x14mm. ‘The other weighed 1100 milligrammes, and measured 39x68mm.; cord 17mm. ;
placenta 8x13mm. That the young are brought forth in the southern part of the State at about the
same date as with us is evidenced from the following. Dr. A. K. Fisher states that a female which
he killed at Sing Sing, in Westchester County, June 24, 1881, ‘‘contained two young, well de-
veloped, and probably would have been delivered in a few days. The young each weighed 1,45¢
milligrammes. On removing the amnion the ears of one of the young bats became erect. The
placenta of this species is different from that of the Little Brown Bat ; instead of being circular it
is elliptical, measuring 10 by 15 millimetres. The placentz were attached to the posterior wall of
the uterus near the summit of each cornu. The umbilical cord measured twenty millimetres in
length.” (Forest and Stream, Vol. XVI, No. 25, July 21, 1881. p. 490.)

94 MAMMALIA.

nothing could be seen at the hole, I drove the blade of the axe
through the thin shell a little below and pried off a large piece.
The result was fairly startling, for in a twinkling the opening was
filled with swarms of Bats which, for the space of several minutes,
poured forth uninterruptedly in a solid, dusky stream. The majority
took flight at once, making off over the Lake or in the direction
of the nearest wooded shore, but dozens, in their haste, fell into
the water or sought refuge in the boat where they scrambled about
under the seats or attempted to climb my legs.

‘“« After the rush was over I was astonished to find that the tree
had been by no means emptied. Indeed, the squeaking sounds
within continued almost unabated. Investigating further I dis-
covered that although the trunk was hollow for nearly its entire
length, there was a central core which touched the walls in places,
thus dividing the interior into separate spaces or chambers con-
nected with one another by numerous passages. The side that I
had opened had been promptly vacated, but many of the occupants
had probably crawled around into the other chamber instead of
following their more impulsive companions. At least when this,
their last refuge, was laid bare by another application of the axe,
the torrent that rushed forth rendered the first exodus insignificant
by comparison. In fact, as my guide remarked at the time, it
seemed as if all the Bats of New England had congregated in that
one tree. Of their total numbers I should not care to attempt any
definite estimate, but there were certainly hundreds and probably
thousands. All were adults, and all apparently of the same species,
a small dark-colored one which, as you suggest, was probably
Vesperugo noctivagans although as I preserved no specimens (a
piece of negligence that I now deeply regret) I cannot be positive
on this point.

“None of the guides or lumbermen to whom I told this expert-
ence had ever met with a similar colony, although it is not unusual

for them to find single Bats, or small families, hibernating in the

9"

VESPERUGO NOCTIVAGANS. 95

hollow trees which are cut for firewood during winter. I may add
that the season of 1880 was very backward in Maine, cold rains and
occasional flurries of snow occurring with disagreeable frequency
well into June.”

The bat hunter has many difficulties to contend with. Night
creeps upon him so insidiously that he is only made aware of its
presence by the number of shots missed (which multiply with
painful rapidity with the increasing darkness), and by the great
trouble and loss of time experienced in finding the bats that fall to
the ground, The temptation to linger as long as the bats can be
distinctly seen is very great, but should be resisted if the hunter
has any regard for his reputation as a wing shot. When two shots
out of three are missed, it is time to go home. Moonlight evenings
are also very misleading, but the novice soon learns to avoid such
illusions. I believe that I could not average one bat for every
dozen shots by the brightest moonlight. The greatest obstacle in
bat shooting is the inability to calculate distance after early night-
fall, objects invariably appearing much farther off than they really
are. Thus, a bat is frequently fired at when supposed to be at
proper range, when in reality it is so near that the shot have not
time to scatter, and it is consequently either missed altogether or
so blown to pieces as to be worthless. 1 have sometimes, after miss-
ing a bat with the first barrel, brought it down with the second, when
it seemed so far away that I was surprised to find that my gun carried
to so great a distance. On going to pick it up I have been still more
astonished to find it within short range, rarely over seventy-five
feet (22.86 metres) from the spot where I had stood. This decep-
tiveness in distance manifests itself in another embarrassing way,
for in searching for the bat in this dim light one is almost certain to
overestimate the distance at which it fell. Hence a well-trained
dog, with a good nose, is of the greatest assistance.

The length of time that the fading light will permit of bat shoot-

ing in any single evening varies from a little over half an hour, to

96 MAMMALIA.

less than ten minutes, according to the season. The loss of time,
therefore, occasioned by searching for fallen bats is of the most
serious consequence, and can only be overcome by the aid of a dog,
or of an associate. In fact, the value of a willing assistant can
scarcely be exaggerated, He stands a little to one side of the
hunter and carefully notes the line in which a bat falls. The
hunter likewise marks the direction, and as both advance simul-
taneously, the point of intersection of the two lines shows the exact
position of the bat. A lantern with a good reflector is of some
service, but too much reliance must not be placed upon it, and it
should always be carried by the assistant, who, where bats are fairly
abundant, may double the number of specimens secured.

The earliest date at which I have observed the Silver-haired Bat
in the Black River Valley is the 26th of April (1884). It com-
menced to fly at about 7.20 P. M. ,

VESPERTILIO SUBULATUS Say.
Little Brown Bat.

Next to the silver-haired bat, this is the commonest and most
universally distributed species in the Adirondacks, so far as my
observations extend. Professor Baird has taken the typical animal
at Elizabethtown, and the form known as /uczfugus at Westport.
Dr. A. K. Fisher and Mr. Oliver B. Lockhart have killed it at
Lake George, and Walter H. Merriam in Keene Valley, these
localities being all upon the eastern slope of the mountains; and |
have a specimen from Big Moose Lake in the interior, and have
found it in considerable numbers at several places on the western
side of the Wilderness.

In coloration, the young of the Little Brown Bat differs from
its parents even more than does the young of the silver-haired
species. An immature male which I shot August 15th, 1883, had
attained the full dimensions of the adult, but was of an entirely

VESPERTILIO SUBULATUS. 97

different color, its whole body being of a very pale yellowish-brown,
almost inclining to gray on the belly.*

Mr. Figanierre E’ Morao, Minister Plenipotentiary from Portugal
to the United States, published, some years ago, an account of a
colony of bats that caused him great annoyance. This paper con-
tains so much of interest that a few pertinent extracts from it are
here introduced :—

“Tn the winter of 1859, having purchased the property known
as Seneca Point, in the margin of the Northeast River, near
Charlestown, in Cecil County, Maryland, we took possession of it
in May of the next year. . . . Having been uninhabited for
several years, it exhibited the appearance, with the exception of one
or two rooms, of desolation and neglect. . . . The weather,
which was beautiful, balmy and warm, invited us towards evening
to out-door enjoyment and rest, after a fatiguing day of travel and
active labor ; but chairs, settees, and benches were scarcely occupied
by us on the piazza and lawn, when, to our amazement, and the
horror of the female portion of our party, small black bats made
their appearance in immense numbers, -flickering around the
premises, rushing in and out of doors and through open windows.
. . . . Evening after evening did we patiently though not
complacently watch this periodical exodus of dusky wings into
light from their lurking-places. . . . Their excursions invari-
ably commenced with the cry of the ‘whippoorwill,’ both at coming

evening and at early dawn, and it was observed that they always

* Concerning the number of young produced at a birth, e¢ cetera, by Vespertilio subulatus, Dr.
A. K. Fisher writes. ‘‘Of ten pregnant females which we examined last June, 1880, each con-
tained two young. Prof. Burt. G. Wilder (Pop. Sci. Mo., No. 42, p. 651) examined twenty
females in June, 1874. Each contained two little bats, though Dr. C. C. Abbott states (Geology
of New Jersey, Appendix, p. 752), that they bring forth a litter of three to five. We consider this
number unusual, as all the specimens examined by us never contained more nor less thantwo. The
abdomen of the female is not so prominent, but very much broadened, a foetus developing in each
horn of the uterus. The uterine walls at term are very thin, the entire organ weighing only about
a centigramme. The placenta of this species is circular, measuring nine millimetres in diameter,
the umbilical cord being twelve millimetres long. A young one taken from a female whose
mamme contained milk, weighed 1,350 milligrammes ”
July 21, 1880, p. 490.)

(Forest and Stream, Vol. XVI, No. 25,

98 MAMMALIA.

first directed their flight towards the river, undoubtedly to damp
their mouse-like snouts, but not their spirits, for it was likewise
observed that they returned to play hide-and-seek and indulge in
all other imaginable gambols; when, after gratifying their love
of sport and satisfying their voracious appetites (as the absence of
mosquitoes and gnats testified) they would re-enter their habita-
tion, again to emerge at the first signal of their feathered trumpet-
er. I thus ascertained one very important fact, namely, that the
bat, or the species which annoyed us, ate and drank twice in twenty-
four hours.” After resorting to many ineffectual expedients in the
vain attempt to rid his home of these multitudinous pests, he
caused ‘all the holes, fissures in the wood-work, and apertures in
the slating to be hermetically sealed with cement. This put astop
to their egress, but to avoid their dying by starvation and depriva-
tion of water, which would much increase the annoyance by
adding their dead to their living stench, I ordered apertures of
about two feet square to be opened in the lathed and plastered
partition on each side of the garret windows and also in the ceiling
of every garret room; lastly, when the bat’s reveille was sounded
by the bugle of the whippoorwill, all the hands of our establish-
ment, men and boys, each armed with a wooden implement (shaped
like a cricket-bat), marched to the third floor ‘on murderous deeds
with thoughts intent’; a lighted lantern was placed in the middle
of one of the rooms, divested of all furniture, to allure the hidden
foe from their strongholds. After closing the window to prevent
all escape into the open air, the assailants distributed themselves
at regular distances to avoid clubbing each other, awaited the
appearance of the bats, enticed into the room by the artificial light
and impelled by their own natural craving. The slaughter com-
menced and progressed with sanguinary vigor for several hours, or
until brought to a close by the weariness of dealing the blows that
made the enemy bite the dust, and overpowered by the heat and
closeness of theapartment. This plan succeeded perfectly. After

SLOMMIUN TOMA SSMU NON LO Gal 2) Wy Ne 99

a few evenings of similar exercise, in which the da¢teurs became quite
expert in the use of their weapon, every wielding of the wooden
bat bringing down an expiring namesake, the war terminated by
the extermination of every individual of the enemy in the main
building. However there still was the cock-loft of the laundry,
which gave evidence of a large population. In this case I had re-
course to a plan which had been recommended, but was not carried
out in regard to the dwelling-house. I employed a slater to re-
move a portion of the slating which required repairing. This pro-
cess discovered some fifteen hundred or two thousand bats, of
which the larger number were killed, and the surviving sought the
barn, trees, and other places of concealment in the neighborhood.

“In the main building nine thousand six hundred and forty bats,
from actual counting, were destroyed. . . . At the end of five
years the odor has now nearly disappeared, being barely percepti-
ble during a continuance of very damp weather.” *

Order GLIRES. Family ScIuRID-.

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA (Pallas) Geoffroy.
Flying Squirrel.

Two varieties of Flying Squirrel occur in the Adirondacks: the
present form, confined mainly to the borders of the region, and a
northern race, commonest in the elevated portions of the interior.

The subject of this sketch feeds upon a variety of nuts, seeds,
and buds, and upon beetles and perhaps other insects, not hesita-
ting to eat flesh when occasion offers. I have caught many in
box-traps baited with beef, and have frequently known them to
devour dead birds, the heads of which they particularly relish.
Whether they prey upon the smaller species that roost in the forest

I am unable to say, but their agility and their noiseless movements

* An Account of a Remarkable Accumulation of Bats. Smithsonian Annual Report for 1863
1864, pp. 407-409.

100 MAMMALIA.

would enable them to capture the most wary with ease. Moreover
the eagerness and avidity with which they seize and feast upon a
dead bird placed within reach would indicate that they were not
strangers to such a repast.* In confinement they will eat bird’s
eggs, not discarding the shells.

A more gentle, docile, and graceful animal than the Flying Squirrel
does not exist, and though without anything striking in the way of
color or markings, it is nevertheless one of the most beautiful of our
mammals. The dense silky fur of an ashen-brown above and creamy
white beneath, rivalling that of the chinchilla in glossy softness, and
the large, prominent, and expressive eyes, together with its pretty
ways, render it an attractive and justly esteemed pet.

Prof. F. H. King mentions the interesting circumstance that
when an assortment of nuts was placed within reach of a Flying
Squirrel which he had in confinement, it carried off all the acorns
and hazel-nuts, but did not touch any of the others. These two
kinds of nuts were the only ones that grew in the immediate
neighborhood of the place where this squirrel was captured, but it
was taken so young that it could never have seen any nuts prior
to its confinement. Hence the case seems clearly one of inherited
habit.+

Whether, in the region under consideration, this variety of the
Flying Squirrel hibernates, I am unable to state with positiveness,
though strongly of opinion that it does. It certainly remains in
its nest during the severer weather of our winters.

Next to the bats, it is the most strictly nocturnal of our mammals,
very rarely being seen abroad till after nightfall. He who quietly

wanders through our groves and forests during the warm, still

* Prof. F. H. King, in his admirable and comprehensive treatise upon the Economic Relations
of Wisconsin Birds, says: ‘‘ In the spring of 1879, I placed the young of the Chipping Sparrow in
the cage with a young pet flying squirrel (Sc¢zrvopterus volucella). ‘The bird was seized with energy
and killed but not eaten.” (Geology of Wisconsin, Vol. I, 1883, p. 444.) The reason the bird was
not eaten is hard to explain unless the squirrel was surfeited with food.

+ Mr. E. P. Bicknell suggests that the squirrel may have selected the acorns and hazel-nuts
because they were thinner-shelled than the others.

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA. IOI

nights of summer and early autumn cannot but mark the myriads
of sounds that betoken the presence and activity of animal life.
The faint rustling of leaves, the pattering of light footsteps on the
ground, the constant dropping of something from the trees, the
springing back of a branch relieved from the weight of some animal,
the sharp squeaking of unseen creatures, the lonesome note of a
wakeful bird, the occasional low grating of teeth overhead, the
bustle and chipper of something chasing something else up the
trunk of a neighboring tree, the cry of distress as some bird or
beast of prey seizes its unhappy victim ;—these and numberless
other noises, mostly vague and indescribable,—fill the air and bear
evidence to the profusion of life. And yet the very multiplicity of
sounds is confusing, and prevents the perception of those that are
distinctive. To the ear accustomed to the whisperings of Nature
many of these noises are recognized as easily as the voices of
familiar friends. The shrew, the mouse, the bat, the chickaree,
and the Flying Squirrel are almost sure to be present, and the
latter is generally responsible for no small share of the perplexing
sounds. His activity is intense, his sailing leaps frequent, his
gambolings almost ceaseless, his sly chuckle and saucy scold are
occasionally heard, and his dropping of beechnut shucks is some-
times well nigh continuous.

Audubon and Bachman narrate an interesting experience that
no other naturalists seem to have been fortunate enough to witness.
They say: “ We recollect a locality not many miles from Philadel-
phia, where, in order to study the habits of this interesting species,
we occasionally strayed into a meadow containing here and there
immense oak and beech trees. One afternoon we took our seat
on a log in the vicinity to watch their lively motions. It was
during the calm warm weather peculiar to the beginning of autumn.
During the half hour before sunset nature seemed to be in a state
of silence and repose. The birds had retired to the shelter of the

forest. The night-hawk had already commenced its low evening

IO2 MAMMALIA.

flight, and here and there the common red bat was on the wing ;
still for some time not a Flying Squirrel made its appearance.
Suddenly, however, one emerged from its hole and ran up to the
top of a tree; another soon followed, and ere long dozens came ,
forth, and commenced their graceful flights from some upper branch
to a lower bough. At times one would be seen darting from the
topmost branches of a tall oak, and with wide-extended membranes
and outspread tail gliding diagonally through the air, till it reached
the foot of a tree about fifty yards off, when at the moment we
expected to see it strike the earth, it suddenly turned upwards and
alighted on the body of the tree. It would then run to the top
and once more precipitate itself from the upper branches, and sail
back again to the tree it had just left. Crowds of these little
creatures joined in. these sportive gambols; there could not have
been less than two hundred. Scores of them would leave each
tree at the same moment, and cross each other, gliding like spirits
through the air, seeming to have no other object in view than to
indulge a playful propensity.” *

The Flying Squirrel is the most highly specialized of the family
to which it pertains, its whole structure pre-eminently fitting it for
arboreal life. The peculiar tegumentary expansion along the sides
enables it to make flying leaps that far exceed those of other
squirrels ; and the ease, grace, and rapidity with which it glides
from tree to tree inspires the merest passer-by with wonder and
admiration. Its ordinary mode of progression is by a series of
alternate climbs and leaps. Upon reaching a tree the first act is
to ascend for, being unable to sail horizontally, it must attain a
considerable elevation before venturing to leap to the next. Instead
of moving off in this way when disturbed, it sometimes runs up into
the topmost branches of the nearest tree, and, coiling itself into
surprisingly small compass, remains motionless till the intruder

has taken his departure.

* (Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 218.

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA. 103

The modifications of structure that adapt it to its habit of life
are by no means so great as in the case of the mole or bat, and yet
it is not less inseparably associated with an almost exclusively
arboreal existence than are these others with the special conditions
of their environment.

Flying Squirrels make their nests in the hollows of trees,
frequently taking possession of deserted woodpecker's holes. They
are easily aroused and driven out by hammering against the trunk.
I have thus expelled the occupants of as many as half a dozen nests
in a single day’s hunt. Their progeny must be brought forth early
in April, for on the 30th of April, 1878, Dr. C. L. Bagg and myself
took three half-grown young from a woodpecker’s hole, about fifteen
feet above the ground, in a decayed stub. They did not seem at
all frightened, but were tame and gentle from the beginning, and
my sister and I kept two of them alive. At night they were ex-
cessively active and playful, but, unless disturbed, would sleep
during the greater part of the day. They preferred to remain
upon our persons, and one used to sleep in my pocket. At first it
could jump but a short distance, and if placed upon a chair or table
became very unhappy and would come to the edge nearest the
place where I was standing and cry to be taken. If I extended
my arm and approached it, the little creature, trembling with
delight, would stand on its hind legs and leap upon my hand ;
thence, either running up my sleeve or down my neck, it would
nestle in my bosom and sleep for hours, or until forcibly removed.
Prof. F. H. King, in a recent communication, records an experience
with the young of this species that calls to mind many of the actions
and peculiarities of those that | have had. He says: “I have never
known wild animals that became so perfectly familiar and confiding
as-these young squirrels did; and they seemed to get far more
enjoyment from playing upon my person than in any other place,
running in and out of pockets, and between my coat and vest.

After the frolic was over they always esteemed it a great favor if

104 MAMMALIA.

I would allow them to crawl into my vest in front and go to sleep
there, where they felt the warmth of my body, and it was very rare
indeed, during the first six months, that they failed to ask the
privilege ; indeed they came to consider themselves abused if
turned out. When forced to go to sleep by themselves, the atti-
tude taken was amusing, the nose was placed upon the table or
other object it happened to be upon, and then it would walk forward
over it, rolling itself up until the nose almost protruded from be-
tween the hind legs; the tail was then wrapped in a horizontal
coil about the feet, and the result was an exquisite little ball of life
in soft fur which it seemed almost sacrilegious to touch. If they
escaped from the cage during the night, I was sure to be warned
of the fact by their coming into the bed to roll themselves up close
tomy ace or neck, ~

The most extended account which I have seen of this animal’s
habits in confinement, is from the pen of Prof. Geo. H. Perkins,
of the University of Vermont. He describes his interesting pets
in the following language: ‘ At dusk they begin to stir. Not all
at once it would seem do they awake, for the material of the nest
quivers and shakes for some time before the squirrel appears.
When, however, they conclude that they are all ready, out pop
their heads, each to be followed by the rest of the body, after a
glance on all sides with the glistening black eyes; and now all
drowsiness has disappeared and an activity more incessant and
more intense than can be described takes its place. All night long,
often with only the briefest rest now and then, these little animals
are in vigorous motion, jumping, bounding, capering, running with
ever-varying movement and astonishing energy. Everything they
do is done with all their might. It would seem to any one watch-
ing them that the exercise of the first few minutes must wholly
exhaust their powers, but, on the contrary, the more their muscles

are used, the more capable of use they seem, and great as is the

* American Naturalist, Vol. XVII, No. 1, Jan. 1883, p. 39.

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA. 105

energy of their movements at first, they usually increase in vigor
and speed until after midnight and scarcely grow less before morn-
ing. Nothing affords them so much gratification as a large wheel
which is placed inside the cage. Into this wheel they jump when-
ever aught disturbs or pleases them, and even when quite hungry
they often find it necessary to take a few turns before commencing
their meal, after which exercise they draw themselves into a bunch
with the tail over the back, after the manner of squirrels, and set
briskly to work on the nut or other food they may have
received. They are almost as fond of riding as of running, and
work their passage by running till the wheel is in rapid motion and
then clinging to its wires, and so are carried around and around,
the pure white of the under side of the body contrasting prettily
with the soft brownish-gray of the back and sides as each comes
into view. When both are in the wheel one often rides while the
other turns the wheel, the latter bounding over the other as each
turn brings him around, and, no matter how rapidly the wheel
turns, these movements are executed with perfect exactness and
gracefulness. Being desirous of knowing with some degree of
accuracy how rapidly the wheel moved, I made some experiments
for that purpose and found that the usual rate of revolution was
from sixty to over a hundred and twenty times a minute, and, as
the wheel is forty-four inches in circumference, when its rate is the
latter of the two numbers named, the squirrel turning it must
travel four hundred and forty feet a minute, or about five miles an
hour, a distance requiring a great many steps when they are
so short as squirrels must take. The sides of the wheels are formed
of spokes radiating as in any wheel, these spokes are only five
inches apart at the circumference and of course constantly grow
less toward the centre ; yet through this narrow space which passes,
when the wheel is at full speed, in the sixteenth of a second, they
dart in and out with perfect ease. So quickly do they move that

the eye can scarcely follow them; one instant a squirrel is in the
8

106 MAMMALIA.

wheel running with all his might, and the next he is seated on a
shelf at the opposite end of the cage, the wheel whirling behind
him . . . . Though usually very quiet they are not always
displeased with noise, if it be a lively one ; for instance, they drop
a nut in the wheel and then as it rattles when the wheel moves
they are highly delighted, sometimes more so than some of the
other listeners. Once when a butternut thus became quite a trouble
to me I removed it, but no sooner had I left the cage than they put
it back and set it rattling louder than ever, leaping over it as it came
near them and jumping about as if performing a war dance, and this
they repeated over and over again till, finally, the nut was removed
from the cage. Now and then the freak takes one or the other to
leave the wheel altogether for several days, and in the meantime
they relieve their over-buoyant feelings by executing a brilliant
series of somersets with an agility and daring that would excite the
envy of the most skilful acrobat. They always turn backward, going
completely over and alighting almost exactly upon the spot from
which they started. Now they run a few steps before going over
and now stop and turn around as if a spit ran through the centre of
the body on which it turned. These gyrations are often extremely
ludicrous, especially, when turning side by side, they seem to be
racing . . . . They are exceedingly inquisitive, prying into
everything that comes in their way ; and, if watched and fearful lest
they are to be interrupted, they assume a most impudent and reck--
less air, glancing out of one eye, and shaking their heads and sniffing
every now and then for an instant, and then returning to their in-
vestigations with renewed energy, pulling away desperately at any-
thing that can be laid hold of, and if anyone starts toward them to
drive them away, they wait till the very last minute, when, with a
twinkle of the eye, a toss of the head, and a jerk of the tail, they are
off and across the room in a trice, perhaps stopping to chatter their
disapproval of the whole proceeding as soon as safely out of reach

When the actions of an animal are so suddenly varied, so

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA. 107

constantly changing and of such interest in all their phases as are
those of the Flying Squirrel, a complete account can scarcely be
given. Certainly it is not easy for words to represent the merry,
rollicking, don’t-care manner in which they do everything. Such a
combination of earnestness and carelessness is seldom seen. ‘For
they are earnest about their work, and in emptying a box of nuts
they seem to feel the great importance of their undertaking and the
necessity of soberness and dignity in its execution, but yet one can-
not help seeing that all this is but assumed for the occasion, for their
eyes, and indeed their whole body, are all the time expressive of
mischief, and the little rogues are never so sedate that they do not
seem to be bubbling over with fun and to be ready at a moment’s
notice to engage in any mischief that may occur to their scheming
little heads.” *

An adult that I once had in captivity used to make a practice of
leaping from the floor, or from some object in the room, to the top
of my head, where it would scratch and dig as if searching for beech-
nuts.

The late Dr. Gideon B. Smith, of Baltimore, in a letter to Audubon
and Bachman, speaks thus of these squirrels : ‘‘ They are gregarious,
living together in considerable communities, and do not object to the
_company of other and even quite different animals. For example, I
once assisted in taking down an old martin-box, which had been for
a great number of years on the top of a venerable locust tree near
my house, and which had some eight or ten apartments. As the box
fell to the ground we were surprised to see the great numbers of
Flying Squirrels, screech-owls, and leather-winged bats running from
it. We caught several of each, and one of the Flying Squirrels was
kept as a pet in a cage for six months. The various apartments of
the box were stored with hickorynuts, chestnuts, acorns, corn, &c.,
intended for the winter supply of food. There must have been as

many as twenty Flying Squirrels in the box, as many bats, and we

* American Naturalist, Vol. VII, No. 3, March, 1873, pp. 133-139.

108 MAMMALIA.

know there were six screech-owls. The crevices of the house were
always inhabited by the squirrels. The docility of the one we kept
as a pet was remarkable ; although he was never lively and playful
in the day-time, he would permit himself to be handled and spread
out at the pleasure of any one. We frequently took him from the
cage, laid him on the table or on one hand, and exposed the exten-
sion of his skin, smoothed his fur, put him in our pocket or bosom,

&c., he pretending all the time to be asleep.” *

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA HUDSONIUS (Gmelin) Allen.
Northern Flying Squirrel.

The Northern Flying Squirrel is a common inhabitant of the
elevated central area of the Adirondacks and is not particularly rare
about the outskirts of the region, where I have found both varieties
nesting in adjoining trees. Although this is much the larger of the
two, and may also be distinguished by some peculiarities of colora-
tion, individuals are sometimes met with that are more or less inter-
mediate ; still, I have yet to see the specimen that cannot at once be
referred either to the one or the other.

The Northern Flying Squirrel is a hardier animal than its smaller
relative, and remains awake and active during the whole of our long
and severe winters. [he mercury may indicate a temperature many
degrees below zero, or snow may be falling in quantities sufficient to
obstruct the vision, without seeming in any way to dishearten this
merry adventurer, The last rays of the departing sun have scarcely
disappeared from the western horizon before the sombre shades that
mark the approach of winter night commence to gather about the snow-
clad forest. Whether bright stars sparkle and shine through a frosty
atmosphere, or heavy, leaden clouds overhang the scene, makes little
difference to the Northern Flying Squirrel. He emerges from his

warm nest, takes a hasty survey of the surroundings lest some wily

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 220.

SCIUROPTERUS VOLUCELLA HUDSONIUS. 109

owl should lurk hard by, glides silently to a neighboring tree, and
starts forthwith upon his nightly tour in quest of food and sport.
Prompted either by hunger or curiosity, or by a combination of the
two, he examines every unusual object with scrupulous care, and as
one result is always getting into traps set for valuable fur—and this
whether they are baited with mammal, bird, or fish. Indeed, the
nature of the bait seems to be a matter of the most trivial con-
sequence, as it often consists of red and Flying Squirrels that have
previously been taken in the trap. Even in this case another Flying
Squirrel is as likely to be the next thing caught as any animal in the
Wilderness. Hence it happens that the trapper comes to look upon
him as an unmitigated nuisance.

These handsome Squirrels are very fond of beechnuts, and during
“nut years” feed largely upon them. ‘They are thirsty creatures
and in the early spring, when certain of the woodsmen are engaged
in making maple sugar, many are found dead in the sap buckets—
drowned in their efforts to obtain the sweet fluid.

They breed about a month later than their smaller relative,
June 18th, 1883, Dr. A. K. Fisher and the writer found the nest of a
Northern Flying Squirrel at West Pond, near Big Moose Lake. It
was in the last year’s nest of a three-toed woodpecker (/%co¢des
arcticus) in a tamarack (Lar?x Americana) and the entrance hole
faced the east, about ten feet above the ground. On cutting down
the tree the nest was found to contain three nursing young, not yet
one-third grown; they were estimated to be about a month old.
They were fed on condensed milk diluted with water until we left
the woods, and afterwards on fresh milk and vegetables. One of
them grew very rapidly, attaining nearly two-thirds the size of its
parent by the roth of July, when it was accidentally killed. They all
were perfectly tame and acted much like the young of the common
Flying Squirrel (.S. volucella) already described.

In searching the scanty literature relating to this animal, which has

not previously been recorded from the State of New York, I have

ML) MAMMALIA.

been unable to find anything upon its habits excepting the following
account of a female and young, narrated by Audubon and Bachman:
«A brood of young of this species, along with the mother was kept
in confinement by an acquaintance of ours, for about four months,
and the little ones, five in number, were suckled in the following
manner: the younglings stood on the ground floor of the cage,
whilst the mother hung her body downwards, and secured herself
from falling by clinging to the perch immediately above her head by
her forefeet. This was observed every day, and some days as fre-
quently as eight or ten times.

“The brood was procured as follows: a piece of partially cleared
wood having been set on fire, the labourers saw a Flying Squirrel
start from a hollow stump with a young one in her mouth, and
watched the place where she deposited it, in another stump at a
little distance. The mother returned to her nest, and took away
another and another in succession, until all were removed, when the
wood-cutters went to the- abode now occupied by the affectionate
animal, and caught her already singed by the fire, and her five young
unscathed. . | |

« After some time a pair of the young were given away to a friend.
The three remaining ones, as well as the mother, were killed in the
following manner :

«The cage containing them was hung near the window, and one
night during the darkness, a rat, or rats (J7us decumanus), caught
hold of the three young through the bars, and ate off all their flesh,
leaving the skins almost entire, and the heads remaining inside the
bars. The mother had had her thigh broken and her flesh eaten
from the bone, and yet this good parent was so affectionately
attached to her brood that when she was found in this pitiable con-
dition in the morning, she was clinging to her offspring, and trying

Y

to nurse them as if they had still been alive.” *

* (Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. III, 1854, pp. 203-204.

SCIURUS HUDSONIUS. ua

SCIURUS HUDSONIUS PPallas.
Red Squirrel; Chickaree.

The Red Squirrel is one of the commonest and best known of the
mammalian inhabitants of the Adirondacks, being found in all parts
of the Wilderness at all seasons of the year. °

His diet is more varied than that of our other squirrels. — In addi-
tion to nuts and acorns he feeds upon a variety of seeds and roots,
the buds and leaf-stems of certain trees, several species of ‘ toad-
stools” and other fungi, seeds from the cones of pines and spruces,
fruits and berries of many kinds, beetles, birds’ eggs, and even young
birds. And in winter he does not look with disdain upon scraps of
meat or fish that may have been left within his reach.

He is the most hilarious of the pre-eminently merry and frolicsome
family to which he belongs, and his joyous and jubilant nature
enables him to triumph over the sense of gloom that pervades the
sombre coniferous forests of the North, rendering him cheerful and
contented in the darkest and most impenetrable of our evergreen
thickets. Indeed, it is this happy faculty of adapting himself and
his modes of life to a diversity of surroundings that has permitted
his wide dispersion, the present boundaries of his habitat being co-
extensive with those of the wooded portions of the northern part of
our continent.*

The Chickaree combines qualities so wholly at variance, so unique,
so incomprehensible, and so characteristic withal, that one scarcely
knows in what light to regard him. His inquisitiveness, audacity,
inordinate assurance, and exasperating insolence, together with his
insatiable love of mischief and shameless disregard of all the ordinary
customs and civilities of life, would lead one to suppose that he was
little entitled to respect; and yet his intelligence, his untiring perse-
verance, and genuine industry, the cunning cleverness displayed in

many of his actions, and the irresistible humor with which he does

* The species and its several geographical races are here spoken of collectively.

Wo MAMMALIA.

everything, command for him a certain degree of admiration. He
is arrogant, impetuous, and conceited to an extreme degree, his con-
fidence in his own superior capabilities not infrequently costing him
his life. In fact, these contradictions in character and idiosyncrasies
in disposition render him a psychological problem of no easy
solution. .

From earliest dawn till the setting sun has disappeared behind the
distant hills, the Red Squirrel enlivens the silent solitude of the forest
with his merry ways and saucy chatterings ; and he may sometimes
be discovered in the darkest hours of the night, stealing softly over
the ground—bent, doubtless, on some errand of dubious propriety.
Moonlight evenings he is often as active, though not so noisy, as
during the day, and in early autumn he vies with the flying squirrel
in nocturnal nut-husking exploits. Though an expert climber,
delighting in long leaps from bough to bough, which he executes
with grace and precision, he spends far more time on the ground than
the other arboreal squirrels, sometimes even making his home: in
holes in the earth. Old logs, stumps, wood-piles, and brush-heaps
are favorite places of resort, and, by excavating burrows beneath, he
converts them into the securest of retreats. Our fences serve as
highways upon which he travels from wood to wood, and the zig-zag
rail fence in particular is one of the boons of his existence. It is his
most frequented path, his playground, his race-course, and when
pursued, his readiest means of escape. It is the step-ladder from
which he leaps into the branches of neighboring trees, and the place
where he meets his friends at all hours of the day. He frequently
follows it to the farm-house and takes up his abode in the woodshed
or other outbuilding, placing his nest between the ceiling and roof,
or in some other equally out-of-the-way spot, whence he is with great
difficulty dislodged.

He is the least wary of the squirrels, rarely taking the trouble to
hide himself at the approach of man. In fact, on such occasions he

usually assumes an aggressive attitude, chippers, shakes his tail in an

SCIURUS HUDSONIUS. ie oe

impudent and wholly uncalled-for manner, but takes care to keep
just out of reach. This daring fearlessness is clearly the result of the
fact that he is not worth the powder necessary for his destruction,
and he is therefore tolerated, though an acknowledged nuisance.
But there are times when his conduct becomes so scandalous that the
shot-gun is brought out for his suppression. He is soon deeply im-
pressed with the range and effect of this weapon, and, though many
of his brothers may have perished before the warning was heeded,
he now becomes, in this particular locality, the most circumspect of
brutes. He scorns the thought of running away, but grows so
vigilant, sly, and crafty that the farmer is put to his wit’s end to
devise means for his riddance.

His curiosity is almost as striking as his impudence, and more
than once when I have been standing or sitting motionless in the
forest he has approached nearer and nearer, eyeing me inquisitively,
chippering, and shaking his tail, till finally he has jumped upon my
person, to be off again in a trice. When sleeping on the ground in
July, 1878, I was awakened, just at daybreak, by a noisy and excited
chippering close at hand, but before my eyes were fairly open one
of these mischievous imps alighted in my face. The surprise was
common, and I must have started rather unceremoniously, for he
sprang so suddenly to the nearest tree that the prints of his claws
were visible for sometime after upon my forehead and nose.

Of all the annoyances that beset the trapper in this region, none
compare with the Red Squirrel. Not only is he the most vexatious
of all the animals that roam the Adirondack wilds, but he often
proves a source of disaster to the fur dealer. From an overhanging
limb he looks on with unfeigned interest while the trapper arranges
the bait for the martin or fisher; but a moment later he has sprung the
trap and is chippering with exulting derision at the result. He is
often caught, it is true, but half a dozen others are always ready to
take his place, and it affords little satisfaction to the hunter, on his

lonely rounds through the snow-clad forest, to find a worthless

114 MAMMALIA,

Squirrel in his trap, instead of the valuable fur for which it was set.
But if, instead of consulting the hunter's interests, we take another
view of the case, it is easy to see that the Chickaree is a good friend
to the martin. He furnishes the latter with food of an exceptionally
agreeable kind, and though it cost him his life, takes great pains to
discover and spring the traps set for the martin’s destruction.

He is not always to be found in equal numbers, but is influenced
in a marked degree by the beechnut crop. In seasons when mast is
plentiful there seems to be a Squirrel for every tree, bush, stump,
and log in the entire Wilderness, besides a number left over to
fill possible vacancies. When, on the other hand, the nut crop has
been a failure, a corresponding diminution in the numbers of Squir-
rels is observable, and they are sometimes actually scarce.* Hence
it is clear that while the diet of the Red Squirrel is varied, his staple
commodity is the beechnut, the yield of which in any year deter-
mines his abundance in the succeeding winter and spring. That
he migrates, on a small scale at least, is a fact concerning which there
can be no reasonable doubt: on any other hypothesis we are at a
loss to account for the suddenness of his increase and decrease over
certain areas of large extent, and find it difficult to explain why he is
sometimes met with in numbers swimming our lakes and rivers, al-
ways in one direction.

As might be inferred from the boreal distribution of this animal,
he is the hardiest of our squirrels. Not only does he inhabit regions
where the rigors of Arctic winter are keenly felt, but, refusing to

hibernate, he remains active throughout the continuance of excessive

* To be more explicit: The yield of beechnuts was good in the fall of 1881. In October and
November of that year I found Red Squirrels abounding in all parts of the region traversed—from
the Black River Valley to the Saranacs and Tupper’s Lakes. Dr. F. H. Hoadley, who spent the win-
ter at Big Moose Lake, informs me that they continued in undiminished numbers throughout the
months of January, February, and March, proving a serious grievance to the trapper. The next
fall, that of 1882, the nut crop failed (as it always does here on the alternate years), and I found
but few Red Squirrels in the Adirondacks in October and November. As the winter advanced
they became less and less common, and in January I did not see a single one, and but two of their
tracks, while on a snow-shoe tramp from Big Otter to Big Moose Lake.

SCIURUS HUDSONITIUS. ry [es

cold. When fierce storms sweep over the land he retires to his nest,
to appear again with the first lull of the wind, be the temperature
never so low. I have many times observed him when the thermom-
eter ranged from thirty to forty degrees below zero Centigrade (—22
to —40 F.), but could never see that he was inconvenienced by the
cold. When running upon the snow he often plunges down out of
sight, tunnels a little distance, and, reappearing, shakes the snow
from his head and body, whisks his tail, and skips along as lightly
and with as much apparent pleasure as if returning from a bath in
some rippling brook during the heat of a summer's afternoon.

He possesses the rare and philosophical accomplishment of com-
bining work with recreation, and sets about the performance of his
self-imposed tasks with such roguish humor that it is a pleasure to
watch him. In marked contrast to these free and happy habits is
the stealth and sullenness that characterize the actions of some of the
Carnivores, notably of the family Mustelidee.

The Red Squirrel enjoys a game of “tag” even more than the
average schoolboy, and one is often startled by a couple of them as
they rush madly through the leaves, chasing each other hither and
thither over the ground, up and down and around the trunks of trees,
and in and out of hollow logs and stumps with a degree of reckless-
ness that is astonishing to behold.

However frivolous the Red Squirrel may appear to the casual
observer, he is, nevertheless, a most industrious animal. Unlike
most of his associates, and many of our own species, he is not con-
tent with the enjoyment of present plenty, but takes pains to provide
against a time of future need. When the summer has grown old,
and the mellow days of early autumn cast a glow of color over the
sumac and woodbine, the prudent Squirrel has commenced to gather
the provision for his winter's use. Impatient to make sure his store,
he does not wait for the nuts to ripen and fall, but cuts the stems by
which they hang, till many lie scattered on the ground below. He

then descends and collects them in a heap between, or near, the roots

116 MAMMALIA.

of the trees; or, if he thinks them here too exposed, carries them
directly to some hollow log or stump. Later in the season, when
the mast is fully ripe, and the danger from mould is past, he fills the
hollows of the limbs and trees about his nest, and often secretes
reserve hoards in his burrows in the earth. In the evergreen
forests he lays up large supplies of cones. I have seen him, even
before the middle of September, engaged in gathering those of the
white pine (77s strobus). At this early date he cuts the yet green
cones from the branches, and, when a sufficient number have fallen,
takes them to some hiding-place to ripen for his winter’s fare. He
eats the little buds that may be found scattered sparingly along the
small branches of the spruce, and, in order to obtain them easily,
bites off the terminal twigs and drags them back where the limb is
large enough to allow him to sit comfortably on his haunches while
feeding. Under single trees, both in the great forest and on our own
lawn, I have found enough twigs to fill a bushel basket. The injury
thus done is sometimes very extensive.

He is fond of a variety of fruits, and sometimes commits great
havoc in the apple orchard. From his liking for mushrooms some
would consider him an epicure, but in whatever light we regard
this taste, it is a droll spectacle to see him drag a large “ toadstool”
to one of his storehouses. If the ‘‘ umbrella” happens to catch on
some stick or log and is broken from the stem, as is frequently the
case, he is pretty sure to scold and sputter for a while, and then
take the pieces separately to their destination.

Throughout the first half of June I have often observed a family
of Red Squirrels feeding upon the winged seeds of a red or swamp
maple (Acer rubrum), directly in front of my office window.
They rarely came during the day, but in the evening both parents
and five young were frequently seen on the tree at one time, and
they commonly remained till it was so dark that I could no longer
discern their outlines. In reaching down from the slender twigs

to the drooping clusters of fruit they sometimes slipped and seemed

SCLURUS HUDSONIUS. Tele,

about to fall, but I never knew even one of the youngsters to lose
his hold. On these occasions they were always silent. I have
also seen them, in June, in the act of eating the leaf-stems of the
sugar maple (Acer saccharinum), to which habit my attention was
directed by observing the frequent dropping of green leaves to the
ground.”

The propensity to suck the eggs and destroy the young of our
smaller birds is the worst trait of the Red Squirrel, and is in itself
sufficient reason for his extermination, at least about the habitations
of man. I have myself known him to rob the nests of the red-eyed
vireo, chipping sparrow, robin, Wilson’s thrush, and ruffed grouse,
and doubt not that thousands of eggs are annually sacrificed, in
the Adirondack region alone, to gratify this appetite. Therefore,
when abundant, as he always is during the springs that follow good
nut years, his influence in checking the increase of our insectivorous
birds can hardly be overestimated.

Dr. A. K. Fisher informs me that on three occasions he has
known these Squirrels to destroy young robins. In the first
instance he heard the old birds making a great outcry near his
home at Sing Sing, and on going to ascertain the reason found a
Red Squirrel in the act of devouring a young robin. A well-
directed stone caused him to drop the bird, which was found with
its head cut into and the brains eaten. One wing and both feet
had also been eaten. The details of the other cases are much the
same. In one instance the Squirrel returned several times to the

nest and carried off all the young.t. :

* Mr. E. P. Bicknell writes me from his home at Riverdale, New York: ‘On our place they
feed through the winter and early spring on the flower-buds of the white maple (Acer dasycarpum).
Often several are to be seen perched among the leafless and bud-besprinkled branches about the
top of one ef these trees, scattering the snow below with fragments of the red buds and even entire
twigs which later would have become sprays of blossoms and fruit.”

+ Dr. Edgar A. Mearns, in his valuable paper upon the Birds of the Hudson Highlands, states :
‘* Among the Robin’s worst enemies may be ranked the Red Squirrels (Scdurus Hudsonius), for,
though their young are subject to the attacks of Crows, Jays, and particularly to the ravages of the
Black Snake (Bascanion constrictor), yet none of these enemies inflict as much injury as the
Squirrels, because, not only do they seek out and devour the eggs, but the young are also eaten,”

118 MAMMALIA.

I have long been aware that this animal was an occasional
depredator of the poultry yard, and find, in a journal written twelve
years ago, a note to the effect that a case had then come to my
knowledge where one was caught in the act of killing both chickens
and young ducks.

The Red Squirrel is a good swimmer, swimming rapidly and
with much of the head, back, and tail out of water. On the 18th
of August, 1874, I was paddling silently down a sluggish stream in
the heart of the Adirondacks when a slight noise on the shore
arrested my attention. A Squirrel soon appeared at the water’s
edge, but turned back upon perceiving the boat. The stream,
which was about twenty feet (approximately 6 metres) in width,
here flowed through an extensive marsh, the nearest tree being
more than a hundred yards (nearly 100 metres) away. Surprised
at seeing a Squirrel in such a place, I stopped the boat, holding
fast to a few bushes on the opposite bank, and after remaining
motionless a few moments had the satisfaction of seeing him return,
climb out on a little bush, and swim across. Again, June 28th,
1878, while rowing on Brantingham Lake, in Lewis County, I saw
a Red Squirrel swimming about midway between “ the Point ” and
the main shore opposite. He was moving toward the Point, and,
as I reached him, climbed up on the oar, ran over my back and legs,
then along the gunwdle, jumping ahead from the bow in the direc-
tion toward which he was swimming when first seen. On overtaking

him he again came aboard and jumped ahead as before. This was

etc. (Bull. Essex Inst., X, 1878, p. 9.) Mr. John Barroughs says: ‘‘ Nearly all the birds look
upon it as their enemy and attack and annoy it when it appears near their breeding haunts. Thus,
I have seen the pewee, the cuckoo, the robin, and the wood thrush pursuing it with angry voice
and gestures. If you wish the birds to breed and thrive in your orchards and groves, kill every
red squirrel thai infests the place.” (The Tragedies of the Nests, in The Century Magazine, Vol.
XXVI, No. 5, Sept., 1883, p. 686.) Prof. F. H. King tells us that at Ithaca, New York, his
attention was attracted by a pair of robins dashing wildly about the branches of an evergreen:
‘On examining the tree the nest of the birds was discovered, and just below it sat a Chickaree
eating one of the Robin’s eggs.” (Geol. Wis., 1883, p. 443.) In Forest and Stream for November
17, and December 29, 1881, Mr. Bainbridge Bishop contributes much valuable testimony of a
similar nature. Examples might be multiplied almost indefinitely, but enough has already been said
to demonstrate that the Red Squirrel must be ranked among the worst enemies of our small birds.

SCIURUS HUDSONIUS. I19

done a number of times, the Squirrel gaining each time two or
three boat’s lengths, till finally he succeeded in reaching the shore.
I have repeatedly been told by hunters and guides that they
occasionally meet these Squirrels swimming various lakes and rivers
in the Wilderness, and James Higby tells me that in June, 1877
he saw as many as fifty crossing Big Moose Lake, and that they
were all headed the same way—to the north.

I am informed by Dr. A. K. Fisher that at the southern end of
Lake George, in early autumn, it is sometimes an every-day
occurrence to see Red Squirrels swimming across the lake, from
west to east—never in the opposite direction. The chestnut grows
abundantly on the eastern side of the lake, but it is comparatively
scarce on the western, and these extensive migrations always take
place in years when the yield of chestnuts islarge.* Mr. Winslow
C. Watson, in his History of Essex County, says: “The autumn
of 1851 afforded one of these periodical invasions of Essex county.
It fs well authenticated, that the red squirrel was constantly seen
in the widest parts of the lake | Lake Champlain], far out from land,
swimming towards the shore, as if familiar with the service; their
heads above water, and their bushy tails erect and expanded, and
apparently spread to the breeze. Reaching land, they stopped for
a moment, and relieving their active and vigorous little bodies from
the water, by an energetic shake or two, they bounded into the
woods, as light and free as if they had made no extraordinary
effort.”

Hawks and owls are the Squirrel’s mortal enemies, often seizing
him unawares; but his movements are so well timed that if

he sees them coming he is almost certain to escape. When either

* A few Squirrels are occasionally seen crossing the lake when the nut-crop is only moderate
In September, 1882, Mrs. Fisher was angling between Diamond Island and the west shore when a
Red Squirrel swam to the boat and was lifted in by the tail. After resting a few minutes it ran
out on an oar, jumped into the water and swam to the island (which is half a mile from the west
shore), and thence, doubtless, to the chestnut groves on the eastern side of the lake.

120 MAMMALIA.

of these birds is discovered perching on a limb near his home he
invariably pesters it till it is glad to fly to some more congenial place.

He is sometimes caged and makes an intelligent but unruly and
destructive pet.

In the choice of a site for his nest he does not limit himself
to any fixed conditions, usually placing it in a hollow limb, some-
times in a hole in the ground, and occasionally in a hollow log.
The young are generally born about the first of April, four to six
constituting an average litter.

Where the climate is milder than it is in the Adirondack region
the Red Squirrel often builds outside nests. Dr. A. K. Fisher
writes me that he has found them about the southern end of Lake
George, in Warren County; and that they are so common in
Westchester County, New York, that “half a dozen may be in
sight at one time in favorable localities. The nest is usually situ-
ated near the top of some evergreen, in the midst of a tangled
grape-vine. Preference is given to the red cedar (/Junzperus Vir-
giniana), for the reason, probably, that this tree furnishes most of
the material for the nest. It may occasionally be found in a
deciduous tree. The nest, which is globular in shape, varies
from two to three hundred millimetres in diameter. Asa rule, the
cavity is situated nearer the top than the bottom, thus making the
roof thinner than the floor. At a little distance the entrance can-
not be seen, for its borders fall together after the entrance or exit
of the animal. The material generally used for the nest is the
soft, silky bark of the red cedar. Sometimes that of the grape-
vine, or the inner bark of the chestnut, is intermixed.” Mr. W. L,
Scott, of Ottawa, Canada, tells me that outside nests of the Red
Squirrel are common as far north as that place; but it must be
borne in mind that lower Ontario is Alleghanian in fauna, while

the Adirondacks is Canadian.

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. rea

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS (Gmelin) Allen.
Gray Squirrel ; Black Squirrel.

The Gray Squirrel has no liking for forests of coniferous ever-
greens, and is, consequently, of extremely rare occurrence in the
central area of the Adirondacks. He is common enough, however,
in the hardwood groves along the borders of the region, varying in
numbers from year to year according to the abundance or scarcity of
the nut supply.*

The immortal Humboldt, in his Azszchten der Natur, asks: ‘“ Who
is there that does not feel himself differently affected beneath the
embowering shade of the beechen grove, or on hills crowned with a
few scattering pines, or in the flowering meadow where the breeze
murmurs through the trembling foliage of the birch? A feeling of
melancholy, or of solemnity, or of light buoyant animation is in turn
awakened by the contemplation of our native trees. This influence
of the physical on the moral world—this mysterious reaction of the
sensuous on the ideal, gives to the study of nature, when considered
from a higher point of view, a peculiar charm which has not hitherto
been sufficiently recognized.” +

This meditation of Humboldt’s leads me to suggest that causes
which have exerted so marked an influence upon the dispersion,

mental culture, and disposition of the various races of mankind have

* For more than forty miles the valley of the Black River extends along, and parallel to, the
western border of the Adirondack region, and the fact is of local interest that this river valley con-
stitutes, throughout a great part of its course, the dividing line between the area inhabited and that
uninhabited by the Gray Squirrel. While this animal is abundant in the hardwood groves west of
the river, it is of rare or casual occurrence on the eastern side. Many hunters and guides who have
spent almost their whole lives in the Wilderness tell me that they have never seen a Gray Squirrel
in the interior of the Adirondacks. In the course of their irregular migrations, however, isolated
stragglers do sometimes occur there. James Higby informs me that he saw one near Copper Lake
many years ago, and another near the old Arnold clearing. In September and early October, 1882,
they invaded the region in unusual numbers. About the middle of September, of that year,
E. L. Sheppard caught one that was swimming across 2d Lake, Fulton Chain, and a few days later
one was seen in the water near the head of Big Moose Lake. Garrie Riggs caught one swimming
in 4th Lake, Fulton Chain, about Sept. 25th ; C. Wood saw one on the outlet of this lake, Wayne
Bissell another on 2d Lake, and Ned. Ball killed one between Moose River and the Forge.

+ Bohn’s translation, 1850, p. 219.

2

r22 MAMMALIA.

not been inoperative in determining the distribution of many of our
lower animals. Indeed, when nearly related species, having similar
habits, and subsisting in the main upon the same kinds of food, are
found inhabiting contiguous areas,—areas of equal altitude and sub-
ject to identical climatic conditions,—and we learn that these species
are limited, so far as we can ascertain, solely by the character of the
arboreous vegetation, we are forced to admit that influences other
than those which have to do merely with the necessities of existence
have played an important part in fixing the arbitrary and irregular
boundaries of the places occupied by each. In the case of the present
species it seems probable that the dark and sombre hues, the
oppressive silence, and the imposing solitude of our evergreen
forests impress it with a pervading sense of gloom and sadness
against which its cheerful nature revolts. The red squirrel teems
with such a superabundance of hilarity that he easily overcomes this
feeling of oppression which his larger cousin is powerless to combat.

In sparsely populated districts that have long been settled, one
sometimes finds, half-hidden among the trees, a neglected but time-
honored mansion, near which a row of stately elms, extending from
some neighboring wood to distant fields, leads the eye past clumps
of scattered butternuts, beneath whose gnarled and_ spreading
branches groups of grazing cattle seek shelter from the noonday
sun. Here, in early autumn, a few joyous Squirrels gather at break
of day to feast upon the yet green nuts. Following the line of elms
they leap from tree to tree or run upon the zig-zag fence beneath,
fairly revelling with delight; and long before the savory nuts are
ripe, indeed when they have scarce attained their growth, the eager
Squirrels haste to pluck them as they hang in heavy clusters from
the boughs. While biting through the adhesive, staining velvet of
the outer coat they sit perched upon their haunches, with a merry
twinkle in the eye, but, not forgetting their exposed position, main-
tain a prudent silence.

Should some farmer’s boy chance to pass near by, not a Squirrel

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. 123

is to be seen from where he walks, for each one, clinging to a verti-
cal branch or limb, constantly shifts its position so that it always
keeps out of sight on the opposite side. Everything about this

breakfast is thoroughly enjoyed

the early journey to the butter-
nuts, the flying leaps from bough to bough amongst the summits of
the lofty elms, the meal itself, and the bit of excitement attending the
alarm and escape; each contributes its part toward the pleasure of
the occasion. The repast over, the Squirrels do not linger here but
hurry to their homes within the grove. The slanting sunbeam has
pierced but not dispelled the drop of pearly dew upon the waving
grass, when they are already well upon the way. One auda-
cious adventurer, more courageous than the rest, steals down yonder
tottering cross-fence to the orchard, quickly picks an apple from an
overhanging branch, and rejoins his comrades ere they reach the
wood. ‘This haven once attained all constraint is cast aside and the
cautious, silent, and circumspect Squirrels of a moment ago become
the heedless, noisy, rollicking fellows that they really are. While
chasing one another about the tree-tops they sometimes clear a dis-
tance of more than twenty feet (about 6 metres) in a single horizontal
leap. And when at full speed they often stop short, clinging head
downward to a smooth-barked beech, and utter their saucy, scolding
cry—qua-qua-qua-qua-a, qua-qua-qua-qua-a-a, qua-qua-qua-qua-qua-
a-a, QUa-a-a-a, Qua-a-a-a-a,—in an exasperating, impudent tone,
keeping time, the while, with spasmodic contortions of the body and
impertinent jerks and flourishes of the large and bushy tail. To
observe their utter recklessness during these gambols one would
suppose that nothing could be easier than to approach and shoot the
entire troop. Never was man more mistaken. Despite their bois-
terous manners their eyes are always open and they are ever on the
alert. Let some one try to get within gunshot and observe the
result. His very approach seems to render them invisible. Those
that were near their holes have disappeared within, and the others

are hiding behind the trees upon which they were sporting when the

124 MAMMALIA.

enemy appeared. As he advances they rotate slowly about the
trunk, always keeping on the farther side, so that the body of the tree
remains between them. Even if he knows that a Squirrel is on a
certain tree it is doubtful if he gets a shot. A momentary glimpse
of its ears or a part of its tail constitutes all he is likely to discover
as he walks round the tree.

While watching a bird I once noticed what seemed to be a little
tuft of hair protruding from the side of an ash sapling near by. On
going nearer, I perceived the object to be the tip of a Gray Squirrel’s
tail. The animal was clinging vertically to the trunk, hugging it so
closely that this bit of hair was the only part visible from the ground
beneath, though where he lay the trunk was not four inches in
diameter. Not wanting the Squirrel, I fired at the bird, and to my
astonishment the former came tumbling headlong to the ground,
almost at my very feet—an illustration of the effect of terror upon a
sensitive animal. He did not tarry long, however, but in a twinkling
was off and up another tree. One summer, several years ago, I
surprised a Gray Squirrel on the ground in the edge of an open field,
and chased him up a large hemlock that stood by itself in the clear-
ing. Imagine my surprise to see him run out on a limb, fully eighty
feet high, and leap to the ground, striking more than fifty feet from
the base of the tree. Before I could reach the spot he had disap-
peared in the adjacent forest.

In winter, when the trees and branches are coated with ice, I have
several times seen these Squirrels fall nearly a hundred feet, landing
in the snow, but never knew one to be injured by the accident. But
at such times they usually proceed with great caution and do not
attempt to make leaps of any great length. In fact, during the con-
tinuance of extreme cold they do not venture out at all. My obser-
vations on this point are very full, and extend over a period of years.
In winters that follow good yields of nuts they are usually well-con-
ditioned, and seldom appear, in any numbers, when the temperature
is below —8° C. (17.6° F.). It must be remembered, however, that

SCIURUS CAROLINENIS LEUCOTIS. 125

mild and open winters are likely to succeed ‘‘nut years” in this
region, and that during these winters it is not common to have a
continuance of very low temperature. The alternate winters, on the
other hand, are generally severe. ‘There are few if any nuts, and the
Squirrels are none too fat when the heavy snows set in. They have
laid up little or no provision in their holes in the trees, and conse-
quently, since they do not hibernate for any great length of time,
must often roam about in search of food when they would much
prefer to remain coiled snugly in their nests. Under such circum-
stances they frequently come out, during continued cold, when the
thermometer stands at ten degrees below zero C. (14° F.), but not
during storms. They are occasionally met with when it is still colder,
and I have seen a few individuals come to a place where corn was
kept for them when the temperature was —19° C. (—2.2° F.), but only
on mild days during protracted periods of low temperature. In this
respect they differ markedly from their cousins, the red squirrels.
During the winters of deep snows and scarcity of food, my father
has, for many years, kept a stock of corn and nuts within easy reach
of the Squirrels, and but a short distance from the house. Knowing
that they are always sure of finding a bountiful supply here, they
repair to it with great regularity, coming daily except during stormy
or very cold weather, often visiting it at times when their neighbors,
in more remote portions of the wood, do not venture out at all.
Sometimes as many as a dozen Grays and six or eight Blacks have
been seen there at one time, running on the snow and feeding at the
‘boxes and barrels within twenty feet (about 6 metres) from the
dining-room window. While part of them remained on the boxes,
others carried their nuts to a tree near by, eating one at a time and
then returning for another. Some winters they became very tame,
and while we were at breakfast inside, a few used to bring their nuts
to the window and eat them there, perched on their haunches on the
sill, with their handsome bushy tails cocked over their backs. When

anyone went out of doors they commonly scampered off or ran up a

126 MAMMALIA.

tree, yet several often remained and would allow a near approach
without manifesting alarm. They were extremely fond of music (in
the most comprehensive sense of the term), and it affected them in a
peculiar manner. Some were not only fascinated, but actually spell-
bound, by the music-box or guitar. And one particularly weak-
minded individual was so unrefined in his taste that if I advanced
slowly, whistling “ Yust before the Battle, Mother,’ in as pathetic a
tone as I could muster for the occasion, he would permit me even to
stroke his back, sometimes expressing his pleasure by making a low
purring sound. ‘This was a Gray, and I several times approached and
stroked him as above described. I once succeeded in getting near
enough to a Black to touch him, whereupon he instantly came to his
senses and fled. When listening to music they all acted in very
much the same way. They always sat bolt upright, inclining a little
forward (and if eating a nut were sure to drop it), letting the fore-
paws hang listlessly over the breast, and, turning the head to one side
in a bewildered sort of a way, assumed a most idiotic expression.
Those who have observed the habits of this species in summer
must have noticed their propensity for burying nuts just beneath the
surface, in various parts of the woods. They do not, so far as I am
aware, make a great accumulation in any one place, but dig a
thousand little holes, plant a nut or two in each, scrape a few leaves
over the spot and hurry off, as if afraid some one would discover the
treasure. In winter this habit is almost equally marked, and the first
thing a Squirrel thinks of after his hunger is satisfied is to secrete a
portion of the food remaining at his disposal. In accomplishing this
he tunnels into the snow in various directions, hiding some of the
surplus provision in each excavation. Many persons who have
observed this habit in summer regard it as an idle pastime, and ques-
tion if the Squirrel ever finds the nuts again, knowing that he could
never remember the exact positions of so many. But those who
have kept tame Squirrels must have been struck with the remarkable
certainty and quickness with which they detect the whereabouts of

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. E27

nuts that are hidden from sight. A Squirrel will often scratch and
gnaw at a tight box or drawer that he has never seen before, if a
few nuts happen to be in the bottom of it. His sense of smell is
very acute, enabling him to detect the presence of a nut at some little
distance; hence, though he does not, of course, remember the exact
spot where each one is buried under the leaves, he can, by moving
carefully over the ground, discover a great many of them.

In summer, and in winter when the temperature is above the freez-
ing point, Gray Squirrels are out in greatest numbers early in the
morning and in the latter part of the afternoon; throughout the
winter, except during thaws, they only appear for an hour or two in
the warmest part of the day; and in very cold or stormy weather, as
previously stated, they do not venture abroad at all.

This species is not nearly so plentiful along the outskirts of the
Adirondacks as it was twelve or fifteen years ago, and it varies in
abundance from year to year according to the condition of the nut
crop. Beechnuts and butternuts are alone alluded to here because
they are the prevailing nuts. All others are of such limited distribu-
tion in the area under consideration that they are unworthy of
mention. The nut yield is bountiful here, with great regularity, on
alternate years. This has been the case, without a single exception,
for the past twelve years at least. My notes show that the beechnut
crop was good in the autumns of 1871, 1873, 1875, 1877, 1879, 1881,
1883,—always on the odd years,—while on the alternate seasons it
failed. And strange as it may at first sight appear, Squirrels
are usually most numerous during the summer and early autumn of
those years when there are few or no nuts. The reason is this:
when the yield is large there is a noticeable influx of Squirrels from
distant parts, and they, together with those that were here at the
time, winter well, having an abundance of food, and breed here the
following spring. During the summer and early autumn a multitude
of young, now nearly full grown, mingle with the parent stock.

Hence the species attains, at this time, its maximum in numbers:

128 MAMMALIA.

But this is the year when the nut crop is a failure. Therefore, as
the fall advances and they find that there is a scarcity of provision
for the winter, many of them migrate—we know not where. Then
come the October “ Squirrel hunts ’—a disgrace to the State as well
as to the thoughtless men and boys who participate in them—and
the number left to winter is deplorably small.

As the abundance of the Gray Squirrel in winter is governed by
the supply of beechnuts, so is the presence, at this season, of its
assailant, the red-headed woodpecker (MWelanerpfes erythrocephalus),
determined by the same cause. I have elsewhere called attention to
this fact, remarking that “ with us a good Squirrel year is synonymous

oo

with a good year for Welanerfpes, and vice versa.” Gray Squirrels,

red-headed woodpeckers, and beechnuts were numerous during the

winters of 1871-72, 1873-74, 1875-76, 1877--78, 1879-80, 1881-82,
1883-84, while during the alternate years the Squirrels and nuts
were scarce, and the woodpeckers altogether absent. .

Several years ago I published the following account of the way
that these handsome birds sometimes harass the Squirrels: ‘In mid-
winter (January, 1876) my attention was called, by the noise they
made, to a pair of red-headed woodpeckers who were diving at some-
thing on one of the highest limbs of a large elm. A near approach
showed the object of their malice to be a handsome Black Squirrel
who had been unfortunate enough to excite their ire by climbing a
tree in broad daylight. The Squirrel at first evaded their attacks
from above by clinging to the under surface of the limb, and dodged |
their lateral shoots by a quick side shift, but this was temporary.
The woodpeckers, realizing that they were not tormenting the Squir-
rel to their full satisfaction, alighted for a brief council, during
which the Squirrel took occasion to commence a hasty retreat. But
the birds were at him in an instant, this time changing their tactics;
both dove together, the one following closely behind the other, so
that as the Squirrel dodged the first he was sure to be struck by the

* Forest and Stream, Vol. XVII, No. 18, Dec. 1, 1881, p. 347.

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. 129

second. The blows from their hard bills were so severe and so
painful that the poor Squirrel had not been struck half a dozen times
when he let go his hold and fell to the ground, but was off and up
another tree before I could reach the spot. I witnessed a similar
attack upon a Gray Squirrel (color-variety of the same species) last
August, but this time the Squirrel succeeded in getting into a hollow
limb. The time of year at which the above instances occurred
precludes the possibility that the cause of the difficulty arose from an
intrusion on the nesting-ground of the woodpeckers, for the first took
place in midwinter, and the second after the young were fully fledged
and had left the nest. Neither is it at all likely that the trouble was
due to an old grudge which might have arisen from a habit, on the
part of the Squirrel, of robbing the woodpeckers of their eggs, for
the size of the animal is such as to prevent his ready entrance into
the woodpecker’s hole, and should he even succeed in getting in, he
would doubtless pay the penalty with his eyes, if not his life.’* At
this time I was in ignorance of the cause of enmity between them,
but was soon after enlightened on this point. While much the
larger part of the beechnut crop falls to the ground after the first hard
frosts, a few nuts remain on the trees throughout the winter. These
the woodpeckers consider as their exclusive property, assailing and
punishing all rivals with a valor, persistence, and severity, astonish-
ing to behold. Now the Squirrels find it much more conve-
nient to procure the nuts that still cling to the branches than to dig
down through the snow in search of those that lie buried beneath.
Therefore, it often happens that the woodpeckers, on coming to the
grove to feed, discover that the Squirrels are there before them,
stealing the scattered nuts. Their wrath knows no bounds, and they
attack the intruders with such unmistakable earnestness and _ effi-
ciency that the latter, unable to defend themselves, are glad of any
haven to which they may escape. During the last five years I have

witnessed these encounters over and over again, and am convinced

* Bull. Nutt. Ornith. Club, Vol. III, No. 3, July, 1878, pp. 125-126.

130 MAMMALIA.

that the misunderstanding is wholly in regard to the possession of the
nuts. The red-headed is the only species of woodpecker that I
have seen quarrel with the Gray Squirrel.

On the 7th of November, 1879, I witnessed an exciting skirmish
between a goshawk anda Gray Squirrel. The hawk dove repeatedly
for the Squirrel, and as often did the latter evade him by quickly
sliding around the trunk. He then chippered and scolded and shook
his tail in the most aggravating manner imaginable. The hawk was
much enraged, but finding himself unable to capture the object of
his pursuit, finally alighted to wait till the Squirrel should venture
on a limb—a proceeding which the latter wisely showed no inclina-
tion to attempt. I put an end to the affair by shooting the hawk.
Audubon and Bachman state that the red-tailed hawks hunt them in
pairs, thus rendering the capture of the helpless animal certain and
easy.

The minor migratory movements of this species occur with more
or less regularity from year to year, but on so small a scale as to
escape general notice. They must not be confounded with the great
migrations, not rare in former times, when these animals, actuated by
some unknown influence, congregated in vast armies and moved over
the land, crossing open prairies, climbing rugged mountains, and
swimming lakes and rivers that lay in their path. Though hundreds,
and sometimes thousands, perished by the way, the multitude moved
on, devouring the nuts that grew in the forests through which they
passed, and devastating the grain fields of the farmer along the route.
Though these remarkable expeditions have been known and com-
mented upon for many years, yet our knowledge of them is limited
almost to the recognition of the fact of their existence. Scarcity of
food very probably gives rise to the disquieting impulse that prompts
them to leave their homes, but the true motives that operate in
drawing them together, and in determining the direction and distance
of their journeys, are as little understood to-day as they were before

the discovery of the continent on which they dwell.

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. eat

In the year 1749 they invaded Pennsylvania in such vast hosts as
to endanger the crops of the entire inhabited portion of the State,
and a reward of three pence a head was offered for their destruction.
This necessitated the payment of eight thousand pounds sterling (six
hundred and forty thousand individuals having been killed), which so
depleted the treasury that the premium was decreased one-half.
Commenting upon this statement Pennant observed: “How im-
proved must the state of the Americans then be, in thirty-five
years, to wage an expensive and successful war against its parent
country, which before could not bear the charges of clearing the
provinces from the ravages of these insignificant animals!” *

Since nearly all parts of our great country have become popu-
lated, since thousands of square miles of forests have been hewn
down, and the lands tilled and made to yield to the wants of man,
there has been such a vast decrease in the numbers of these animals
that it is doubtful if another great migration will ever be recorded.
It was their enormous abundance in former times, and the extensive
depredations which they committed in the autumn, that caused the
inhabitants to organize for their destruction. Robert Munro, in
“A Description of the Genesee Country,” published in 1804, states
that in the western part of New York, “Squirrels are so numerous in
some years as considerably to injure corn; and upwards of 2000 of
them have sometimes been killed in a day, which is occasionally ap-
pointed for that purpose by the inhabitants; the most common kinds
of them are the black, and the red; the grey coloured being very
scarce.’ { Aside from the constant warfare which every man
waged against those upon his own premises, there came to be
established a much more effective system of extermination. Certain
days were set apart, and every male person capable of carrying
a gun, and who owned or could borrow one to carry, was sup-

posed to join in the chase. Captains were appointed, sides

* Pennant’s Arctic Zoology, Vol. I, 1792, p. 136.
+ Documentary History of New York, Vol. II, p. 1175.

ee MAMMALIA.

chosen, and everything was in readiness the night before. At
daybreak the hunt commenced, and it ended only with the
setting of the sun. Then the participants gathered at some ren-
dezvous previously agreed upon, where a bountiful supper was in
waiting. So many Squirrels had been killed that the hunters could
not possibly carry them, hence the tails alone were preserved. These
were then counted in order to ascertain which side had killed the
greater number, the defeated party meeting the expense of the ban-
quet. This was the “Squirrel hunt” of our forefathers. But the
time when these animals could be ranked among the enemies of the
farmer has long since passed away, probably never to return. And
yet, for some unaccountable reason, the “Squirrel hunts” still con-
tinue—in name at least—but they have degenerated into the most
despicable of “pot-hunts.” Not only are the Squirrels slain wher-
ever found, though innocent of the deeds for which they were origi-
nally persecuted, but large numbers of our insectivorous birds are
likewise destroyed, and for no other reason than because each counts
a certain tally in the reckoning that determines the victorious party !

The Gray Squirrel is easily tamed, if captured early enough, and-
being one of the most intelligent of our native mammals, makes a
desirable pet, and may be allowed entire freedom of movement. The
main objection to it is its tendency to gnaw objects about the
premises.

In the Adirondack region its nest is invariably concealed within
the hollow of some tree or limb, while in more temperate quarters it
is commonly built on the outside, like that of the crow, which it
closely resembles, and is placed either in a fork or at the point where
a large branch leaves the trunk. Audubon and Bachman, and other
writers, speak of these latter as “summer nests,” affirming that the
Squirrels spend the winter and bring forth their young in the hollows
of trees. My experience proves the incorrectness of this statement,
in certain localities at least; for, in southern Connecticut, in the
southern part of New York State (Westchester County), and in

SCIURUS CAROLINENSIS LEUCOTIS. 133

northern New Jersey, I have myself taken more than a hundred
young from these outside nests.
A number found at Elizabeth, New Jersey, during March and the

early part of April, 1872, contained young. They were, according

to my note book, ‘“ composed of sticks, lined with the inner bark of
trees and vines, mixed with other soft substances. They are entirely
covered over above, the entrance being on one side. From the
ground below they cannot be distinguished from crows’ nests.” In
many instances dead leaves enter largely into their composition.

The number of young produced at a birth varies from three to five,
exceptional litters containing six They are born in a very diminu-
tive and helpless condition, wholly devoid of hair, and with the eyes
not yet open. They usually remain in the nest fully two months,
and do not shift for themselves till some time later. On the roth of
May, 1877, Mr. Walter R. Nichols and I took three half-grown
young from a nest at Brandford, Connecticut. It so happened at the
time that Mr. Nichols had a cat which had recently given birth to a
kitten. The kitten we destroyed, and in its stead placed one of the
Squirrels. Presently the cat returned to the barn, eyed the stranger
suspiciously for a moment, and then entered the nest. The young
Squirrel, who had now been several hours away from his mother and
was evidently quite hungry, approached the cat in the most familiar
manner possible. After a little hesitation the latter lay down beside
the new comer, who lost no time in discovering the object of his
desire, and forthwith commenced to nurse, keeping it up with an
energy and perseverance that must have proved as satisfactory to the
cat as a whole litter of kittens.. From this time on the two were the
most inseparable of friends; in fact, the cat seemed quite pleased
with the change and no doubt considered the personal appearance of
her new charge, who was now well formed and possessed a most
extraordinary tail, a great improvement on that of her own ill-shaped

offspring. The Squirrel grew and thrived under the devoted atten-

134 MAMMALIA.

tion of its foster mother, and the pair soon became the centre of
attraction in the neighborhood.

It is stated by Audubon and Bachman that the young are brought
forth in May and June, which statement is at least two months out
of the way. Even in this northern region the period when the impor-
tant event takes place is rarely later than the first of April, and
is frequently in March. The cause of their error, however, is not
hard to explain ; for if they were unacquainted with the very immature
condition of the young at birth, and were ignorant of the time required
to attain full growth, they might easily have made the mistake of
considering young found in the nest in June to be only a few weeks
from birth, when in reality they were two or three months old. In
many localities south and west of the Adirondacks the Gray Squirrel
commonly has two litters in a season, the second usually being born
in September or October.

In closing the biography of this interesting species it seems hardly
necessary to remark that the Black and Gray Squirrels are identical,
both color varieties being sometimes found in the same litter.*
Fifteen years ago the two forms were about equally abundant along
the western border of the region under consideration ; but the Black
has gradually become less and less common, till now it may almost be
regarded as one of our rarer mammals. However, it is still abundant
in anumber of places bordering Lake Ontario, both in this State and

im Canada’

SCIURUS NIGER CINEREUS (Linn.) Allen.
Fox Squirrel.

The Fox Squirrel cannot at present be regarded as other than a
rare or accidental straggler in the Adirondack region. So far as
I am aware, the only specimen taken here of late was killed by

* The case has a well-known parallel in our common mottled owl, in which species both red and
gray plumages are occasionally met with in the same nest.

TAMIAS STRIATUS. 139

Oliver B. Lockhart at Lake George, Warren County, in 1872 or
1873. Mr. W. W. Lockhart saw another near the same place at
about the same time.”

Formerly, the species was found in many parts of the State. In
the year 1853 a specimen was presented to the State Cabinet of
Natural History by Isaac B. Lottridge, who shot it at Hoosic, in
Rensselaer County. Two other specimens (male and female)
were afterwards presented to the State Cabinet by Mr. Lottridge.
Both “were taken in Rensselaer County, New York, in the spring
of 1854.” $

Dr. J. Bachman, writing in 1839, speaks thus of this animal :
“Tn the northern part of New York it is exceedingly rare, as I only
saw two pair during fifteen years of close observation. In the
lower part of that State, however, it appears to be more common,
as I recently received several specimens procured in the County of

ne
Orange.” §

TAMIAS STRIATUS (Linn.) Baird.
Chipmunk ; Ground Squrrel; Striped Squirrel; Chipping Squirrel.

The Chipmunk or Ground Squirrel is always present in greater
or less numbers in some parts of the Adirondacks. It is a migra-
tory animal and is exceedingly abundant some years, while during
others it is scarcely seen at all, the difference being dependent upon
the quantity of the food-supply.

The Striped Squirrel feeds upon a variety of nuts and roots,

* Since the above was written I have learned, through Dr. A. K. Fisher, that a caged Fox
Squirrel escaped, near the southern end of Lake George, previous to the date of killing of Mr.
Lockhart’s specimen. Hence it is possible, though I think hardly probable, that the specimen in
question was imported.

+ Seventh Annual Report of the Regents of the University on the Condition of the State Cabi-
net of Natural History, 1854, p. 15.

¢ Eighth Annual Report on the Condition of the State Cabinet, 1855, p. I5.

§ Monograph of the Genus Sciurus. Charlesworth’s Magazine of Natural History, Vol. III,
i839, p. 161.

136 MAMMALIA.

and is fond of corn and several kinds of grain. It also eats the
larvee of certain insects. In this region the beechnut constitutes
its staple commodity, as it does that of all our squirrels, and
since this nut is produced in large quantity each alternate year,
we are able to predict with considerable certainty the periods
when the Chipmunk will be abundant. For wherever, in autumn,
this animal finds a sufficient supply of nuts he is sure to remain
until the following summer. Here, in beechnut years, the fore-
runners of the great migration arrive in September, and by the
first week in October the woods literally swarm with them. Find-
ing an abundance of food they immediately establish themselves
for the winter, and begin at once to hoard up large stores. They
are the least hardy of our squirrels, commonly going into winter
quarters before the middle of November, and rarely appearing
again in any numbers till the warm sun, in March or April, has
caused plots of bare ground to appear between the snow-banks.
Early thaws sometimes bring them out in February; and after
having once emerged, they often make little excursions over the
snow during pleasant days, though the temperature may be several
degrees below freezing. In running from tree to tree, even when
not pursued, the length of their bound varies from twenty-five to
thirty-four inches (635 to 863 mm.), a long leap for so small an
animal. The season of spring is occupied with the duties of rear-
ing the young, which, before June, are old enough to leave the nest.
At this time the species attains its maximum in numbers, the
young and old together inhabiting all parts of the woodland. Fore-
seeing that the nut crop will fail (this being the even year), they
commonly emigrate in July and do not again appear till September
or October of the ensuing year.

Briefly, then (leaving out of consideration the small number
of resident individuals, and the migrants that sometimes pass
through on their way to distant parts), we find that Chipmunks
reach the Adirondack region during September or October of the

TAMIAS STRIATUS. E37

odd years (nut years), remaining till the following July. They
then depart and are not seen again till the autumn of the next year.
Hence they are here about ten months and absent about fourteen
months, the period of greatest abundance being in June of the
even years (when there are no nuts).

They are most industrious creatures, and, though small, lay up
an astonishingly large supply of food. Audubon and Bachman,
who once dug out a nest occupied by four Chipmunks, speak thus
of the larder: ‘‘ There was about a gill of wheat and buckwheat in
the nest ; but in the galleries we afterwards dug out, we obtained
about a quart of the beaked hazel nuts (Corylus rostratus), nearly
a peck of acorns, some grains of Indian corn, about two quarts of
buckwheat, and a very small quantity of grass seeds.” *

In addition to their store-houses, they frequently, like the gray
squirrel, make little caches, burying here and there beneath the
leaves the contents of their cheek-pouches. Mr. Ira Sayles thus
graphically describes this habit :—

“J lately noticed in my garden a bright-eyed Chipmunk, Sczwraus
striatus, advancing along a line directly towards me. He came
briskly forward, without deviating a hair’s breadth to the right or
the left, until within two feet of me; then turned square towards my
left—his right—and went about three feet or less. Here he paused
a moment and gave a sharp look all around him, as if to detect
any lurking spy on his movements. (His distended cheeks revealed
his business : he had been out foraging.) He now put his nose to
the ground, and, aiding this member with both forepaws, thrust
his head and shoulders down through the dry leaves and soft muck,
half burying himself in an instant.

“At first, I thought him after the bulb of an Lrythronzum, that
grew directly in front of his face and about three inches from it. I
was the more confirmed in this supposition, by the shaking of the

plant.

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 70.
IO :

138 MAMMALIA,

‘Presently, however, he became comparatively quiet. In this
state he remained, possibly, half a minute. He then commenced
a vigorous action, as if digging deeper; but I noticed that he did
not get deeper ; on the contrary, he was gradually backing out. “I
was surprised that, in all his apparent hard work (he worked like a
man on a wager) he threw back no dirt. But this vigorous labor
could not last long. He was very soon completely above ground ;
and then became manifest the object of his earnest work: he was
refilling the hole he had made, and repacking the dirt and leaves
he had disturbed. Nor was he content with simply refilling and
repacking the hole. With his two little hand-like feet he patted
the surface, and so exactly replaced the leaves that, when he had
completed his task, my eye could detect not the slightest difference
between the surface he had so cunningly manipulated, and that
surrounding it. Having completed his task, he raised himself into
a sitting posture, looked with a very satisfied air, and then silently
dodged off into a bush-heap, some ten feet distant. Here he
ventured to stop, and set up a triumphant ‘chip! chip! chip!’

“Tt was now my turn to dig, in order to discover the little
miser’s treasures. I gently removed enough of the leaves and fine
muck to expose his hoard—half a pint of buttercup seeds, Ranxun-
culus acris.” *

On the western side of the Adirondack region the Chipmunk
feeds largely upon the tuberous roots of the dwarf ginseng or
ground-nut (Arata trzfolia), and the yellow grain-like tubers of
the unspurred dicentra or squirrel corn (Decentra Canadens?s).
The winged seeds of the maple can also be ranked among his staple
articles of diet. In June of the present year (1884), Mr. W. E.
Bryant shot a Chipmunk, in Lewis County, whose cheek-pouches
contained a number of larve and pupz of insects.

Of the six species of squirrels known to occur in the Adirondacks,

the present is the only one belonging to the group of ground

* American Naturalist, Vol. IV, No. 4, June, 1870, p. 249.

TAMIAS STRIATUS. 139

squirrels, a group that is largely represented in our western States
and Territories. The Chipmunk establishes his head-quarters in
some log or stump, or in a hole excavated by himself in the earth,
generally among the roots ofa tree. He is partial to brush-heaps,
wood-piles, stone walls, rail fences, accumulations of old rubbish, and
other places that afford him a pretty certain escape, and at the
same time enable him to see what is transpiring outside. For,
though by no means wary, he delights in these loosely sheltered
hiding-places where he can whisk in and out at will, peep unobserv-
ed at passers-by, and dart back when prudence demands. _ If sud-
denly surprised he utters a sharp chip—per', r, r, r, and makes a
quick dash for his retreat, which is no sooner reached than, simul-
taneously with the disappearance of his tail, out pops his head,
his keen dark eyes gazing intently at the source of alarm. If not
pursued farther he is very apt to advance toward the supposed
enemy, betraying his excitement by a series of nervous starts and
precipitous retreats, till finally, making a bold rush, he dashes by
the object of his dread and in another instant is peering out from
a hole beneath the roots of a neighboring tree.

Though a very inquisitive creature, this habit does not seem to
be attributable to curiosity alone, but rather to the same reckless
foolhardiness that prompts the small boy to cross and recross the
road in front of a swiftly advancing carriage or locomotive.

With us the Chipmunk is not ordinarily given to climbing trees.
But when at play he often runs part way up the trunks, and when
pursued by man or dog and unable to reach his hole, he does not
hesitate to take refuge in the topmost branches. Still, he is ill at
ease there, apparently becoming giddy on attaining a little height,
and often commences the descent while his pursuers are yet watch-
ing him from the ground beneath. This unfortunate habit has cost
many a Chipmunk his life, and gave origin, in my younger days,
to an effective method of hunting them. With the aid of a small

dog the poor animal was readily “treed,” and the dog soon learned

140 MAMMALIA.

to watch one side of the tree while the boy guarded the other.
Presently the affrighted and giddy Chipmunk, head downward,
would commence to descend, circling around the trunk. Harassed
on whichever side of the tree he appeared he usually lost his head
and soon came rushing toward the ground, when he was either
knocked over with a stick, or seized by the dog.

It occasionally happens that Chipmunks are met with that do
not show this aversion to tree climbing, particularly when collect-
ing food for their hoards. The trail from Big Moose Lake to
West Pond crosses a low beech ridge whose northern exposure
slopes gradually to the lake. Here, during the latter part of
October and early November, 1881 (beechnut year), Chipmunks
abounded. Here also Dr. A. K. Fisher and the writer, seated upon
a half-decayed log, observed their actions unheeded. They were
very busy. Some were gathering the nuts and crowding them into
their over-distended cheek-pouches; others were carrying their
loads to the store-houses in the ridge; whilst others still, returning
for more, were bounding lightly over the fallen leaves and play-
fully chasing one another among the logs and brushwood that
lay upon the ground. A few, more venturesome than the rest,
were not content to gather the nuts that frost and wind had strewn
upon the earth, but essayed to climb and pick them from the
boughs. Two were seen at one time high up in the trees, and
one in particular was observed making regular journeys from his
hole in the side-hill to the uppermost branches of a beech fully
sixty feet (over 18 metres) in height. He seemed as much at
ease here as would any of our arboreal squirrels, but we noticed
that he never tried to leap from limb to limb.

The Chipmunk is such a beautiful, graceful, active, and seem-
ingly confiding animal in the wild state, that he would naturally
be expected to become one of the most charming of pets. Experi-
ence, however, has not confirmed this supposition. Most writers,

as well as myself, have found him morose and uninteresting in

TAMIAS STRIATUS, I41

confinement, and altogether too fond of biting his captor’s fingers
on insufficient provocation. It is proper to state, however, that
the very young have not, to my knowledge, been caged, and I in-
cline to the belief that they would well repay one for the care be-
stowed upon them.

In the Amerzcan Naturalsst for March, 1870 (p. 58), Mr. A. J.
Cook, of Lansing, Michigan, states that a Chipmunk was observed
“busily nibbling at a snake that had been recently killed. He
could hardly be driven away, and soon returned to his feast when
his tormentors had withdrawn a short distance.”

Thomas Pennant says of this species : ‘‘ During the mayz harvest,
these squirrels are very busy in biting off the ears, and filling their
mouths so full with the corn that their cheeks are quite distended.
It is observable, that they give great preference to certain food;
for if, after filling their mouths with rye, they happen to meet with
wheat, they fling away the first, that they may indulge in the
fast.” *

John Josselyn, writing in 16075 of the animals of New England,
called the Chipmunk ‘“ mouse-squirril”, and said of it: “The
mouse-squirril is hardly so big as a Rat, streak’d on both sides
with black and red streaks, they are mischievous vermine destroying
abundance of Corn both in the fieldand in the house, where they
will gnaw holes into Chests, and tear clothes both linnen and
wollen, and are notable nut-gathers in August; when hasel and
filbert nuts are ripe you may see upon every Nut-tree as many
mouse-squirrils as leaves; So that the nuts are gone in a trice,

which they convey to their Drays or Nests.” +

* Synopsis of Quadrupeds. 1771, p. 289.
+ Two Voyages to New England. Boston reprint, p. 69.

142 MAMMALIA.

ARCTOMYS MONAX (Linn.) Schreber.

Woodchuck ; Marmot.

The Woodchuck delights in the open meadows and rocky hill-
sides that mark the possessions of the farmer, but has no love for
the extensive evergreen forests that exist in districts remote from
civilization. He is, therefore, of rare occurrence within the proper
limits of the Adirondacks, though he has been found, sparingly, in
the remotest parts of the Wilderness.* In the cultivated area
surrounding the Adirondacks he is very abundant, and often
proves a serious annoyance to the farmer.

He is a strict vegetarian, feeding chiefly upon clover and grass.
Only in rare instances does he enter the garden, and were it not
for the size of his holes he could hardly be regarded as an enemy
to the agriculturist.

With us, the Woodchuck commonly lives in extensive burrows,
excavated by himself, though he sometimes takes up his abode in
rocky ledges, and in the hollow roots of large trees. During the
summer season the greater number live in the open fields, gener-
ally selecting good meadows where they are sure to be surrounded
with a luxuriant growth of rich grass or clover, so that they can
procure an abundance of the best of food without exposing them-
selves to the danger of wandering far from their holes. As the
season for going into winter-quarters draws near, many of them
retire to the groves and borders of woods near by and take posses-
sion of other burrows which they occupy till late in the following
spring. Some, indeed, leave the meadows immediately after the

* To cite a few cases: June 12th, 1883, I saw a large Woodchuck in the Brown’s Tract road
near the Hellgate Lakes; and later, on the same day, saw another between Third and Fourth
Lakes of the Fulton Chain. I have also seen their holes between Upper and Lower Saranac
Lakes, and in the side of a knoll between Morse Lake and Second Lake of North Branch, in which
latter place E. L. Sheppard caught one in February or March, 1880. James Higby tells me that
in the early part of July, 1878, he almost stepped on a full-grown and very fat Woodchuck on the
portage between Seventh and Eighth Lakes, Fulton Chain.

ARCTOMYS MONAX. 143

hay is cut in July, while there are a few that never abandon their
forest homes. But few reside permanently in the open fields.*
The Woodchuck is our most remarkable example of a hibernating
mammal. He lays up no store of provision, but remains dormant
throughout the winter. Neither temperature nor quantity of food
at hand has to do with the beginning of his voluntary seclusion.
The first copious rains that fall after haying is over cause fresh
green grass to spring up anew upon the meadows. ‘This second crop,
termed rowen or aftermath, usually attains a luxuriant growth by
the latter part of August. In many places it consists largely of
red clover (Z7rzfolium pratense), the favorite food of the Wood-
chuck. And this animal eats so much during the month previous
to his withdrawal into the earth that he becomes exceedingly fat,
and proportionally inert, and is therefore in excellent condition for
hibernating. Along the western border of the Adirondacks he
usually goes into winter-quarters between the 18th and 25th of
September, not to reappear till the middle or latter part of March.
It is indeed a curious coincidence that the limits of the dormant
state should so closely correspond with the periods of the equi-
noxes. In nine cases out of ten he disappears, with astonishing
precision, within a few days of the autumnal equinox, and remains
under ground till about the time the sun cuts the plane of the

equator at the vernal equinox.+

* It may not be amiss to acquaint my readers with the reasons that lead me to believe that the
majority of our Woodchucks desert the meadows in autumn and hibernate in burrows in the woods.
There are two principal facts, either of which is sufficient, in my opinion, to establish the existence
of this habit. First: As will be hereafter shown, Woodchucks, in this region, come out from their
burrows in early spring two or three weeks before the disappearance of the snow, and may easily
be tracked to their holes. Now it has been my experience (an experience covering at least fifteen
years) that fully gg per cent. of those that appear before the snow goes.in spring, come from holes
in the woods. Second: In the fall of the year I have opened a number of meadow burrows,
which I knew were inhabited up to a week of the time when the animals went into winter-
quarters in September, and almost without exception such burrows have been found to be
tenantless.

+ To this rule there are, of course, exceptions, but they are not sufficiently frequent to in any
way invalidate the accuracy of the above general statement. During very warm weather it some-
times happens that a Woodchuck may be seen sunning himself at the mouth of his hole for an hour
or two in the hottest part of the afternoon as late as the first of October, but such instances are

144 MAMMALIA.

The remarkable circumstance has already been noticed that the
Woodchuck often retires to winter-quarters when surrounded by
an abundance of food, and during the continuance of fine warm
weather; but still more surprising is the fact that he generally
emerges from his hole and tunnels to the surface while the ground
is buried in snow to the depth of several feet, and when no green
thing is to be found upon which he can feed. He not only comes to
the surface, but makes long journeys in various directions over the
snow-covered land, and is apt to continue these apparently aimless
pilgrimages night after night until the fast-melting snow enables him
to reach the much-coveted grass, which has been kept fresh and
green in places by its heavy covering.

The Hon. Daniel Wadsworth, of Hartford, Connecticut, once
kept a Woodchuck alive for upwards of two years, and furnished
Audubon and Bachman with the following interesting account of
its hibernation : ‘“‘ Winter coming on, the box was placed in a warm
corner, and the Woodchuck went into it, arranged its bed with care,
and became torpid. Some six weeks having passed without its
appearing, or having received any food ; I had it taken out of the
box, and brought into the parlour ;—it was inanimate, and as round
as a ball, its nose being buried as it were in the lower part of its
abdomen, and covered by its tail—it was rolled over the carpet
many times, but without effecting any apparent change in its
lethargic condition, and being desirous to push the experiment as
far as is in my power, I laid it close to the fire, and having ordered
my dog to lie down by it, placed the Wood-Chuck in the dog’s lap.
In about half an hour my pet slowly unrolled itself, raised its nose
from the carpet, looked around for a few minutes, and then slowly
crawled away from the dog, moving about the room as if in search

of its own bed! I took it up, and had it carried down stairs and

rare. In the early springs that sometimes follow exceptionally mild winters, Woodchucks occa-
sionally appear in February, but re-enter their burrows and again become dormant if the tempera-
ture suddenly falls. In Southern New England they commonly remain out till late in October, and
I have seen them in the Connecticut Valley even in November.

ARCTOMYS MONAX, 145

placed again in its box, where it went to sleep, as soundly as ever,
until spring made its appearance. That season advancing, and
the trees showing their leaves, the Wood-Chuck became as brisk
and gentle as could be desired, and was frequently brought into
the parlour. The succeeding winter this animal evinced the same
dispositions, and never appeared to suffer by its long sleep.” *

In Rensselaer County in this State, during the summer of 1814,
Dr. Bachman marked a burrow that he knew to be inhabited by a
pair of Woodchucks. Early in November he had it opened
and found the animals lying close together in a nest of dry
grass about twenty-five feet (7.62 metres) from the entrance.
“They were each rolled up,” he writes, ““and looked somewhat
like two misshapen balls of hair, and were perfectly dormant.” +

In hibernation the temperature of the animal approximates that
of the surrounding atmosphere, the heart’s action slackens, and
respiration can only be detected by means of delicate instruments
devised for the purpose. This latter fact was known to Spallan-
zani nearly a hundred years ago, for he wrote to Senebier: “ You
will remember about my Marmot which was so exceedingly lethar-
gic in the severe winter of 1795; during that time I held him in
carbonic acid gas for four hours, the thermometer marking —12°, he
continued to live in this gas which is the most deadly of all
at least a rat and a bird that I placed with him perished in an
instant.”

It is well to observe that different animals exhibit in different
degrees the physiological process of hibernation; and that this
fact is amply illustrated by the representatives of the family to
which the present species belongs. Animals that are able to pro-
cure subsistence in the winter season, and those that lay up large
stores in their nests, do not sleep so continuously, and their leth-

argy is not so profound as in the case of those species that are

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, pp. 20-21.
albidvespen22e

146 MAMMALIA,

wholly cut off from food during this period. Thus the gray squir-
rel, being able to find a certain amount of sustenance when the
ground is covered with snow, remains dormant during severe cold
only ; and the chipmunk, which lays up a great store of provision,
frequently awakes to eat, and is at all times easily aroused ; while
the Woodchuck, whose food is of sucha nature that he can neither
gather a supply for winter's use, nor find any were he to go in
search of it, must needs sleep long and soundly or starve.

The Woodchuck and the flying squirrel occupy the two extremes
of the family to which both belong, while the ground squirrels and
spermophiles hold intermediate positions. The flying squirrel is
the most highly specialized form, showing the most perfect adapta-
tion of structure to habit; while the Woodchuck must at present
be regarded as the most generalized type of the living members of
the group. These animals are so widely different that, taken
alone, they would naturally be regarded as pertaining to separate
families; but a careful study of the numerous intermediate forms
not only proves this view to be incorrect, but also shows that the
gradation of connecting species is so complete that it is even diffi-
cult, in many cases, to draw the line between genera.

The Woodchuck lacks the grace and agility of the arboreal
squirrels, but his heavy body and powerful paws are well adapted
to his terrestrial mode of life. Both animals are modified, but to
widely different ends. 4

Woodchucks are both nocturnal and diurnal, the periods of feed-
ing being determined, in a general way, by the time of the year,
the weather, and the proximity and nature of enemies. In summer,
throughout the farming districts, they commonly leave their bur-
rows early in the morning, late in the afternoon, and during moon-
light nights ; but may sometimes be found abroad at all hours. As
autumn approaches, and they become more and more fat and sleepy,
they usually appear only in fine weather, and then but for a few

hours in the hottest part of the afternoon.

ARCTOMYS MONAX. 147

In localities where they are much hunted they become wary and
difficult of approach. Their hearing is so acute that they take
alarm at sounds which escape our observation altogether. When
feeding or otherwise occupied they frequently stop to listen, sitting
bolt upright with the head inclined forward and the fore legs hang-
ing down over the breast. If a suspicious noise is heard and a
man or dog can be discerned in the distance, they are apt to pre-
cipitate themselves into their holes, not to emerge again till
sufficient time has elapsed to discourage the most enthusiastic and
patient of hunters who may be waiting fora shot. However, when
seen in an open field they may generally be stalked by a very
simple artifice. They seem to be wholly unacquainted with man ~
except in the erect or semi-erect posture. Taking advantage of
this fact, the hunter has merely to prostrate himself at full length
upon the ground and crawl slowly till within easy rifle range of the
astonished beast, which, seeing little save the top of the man’s hat,
and curious to see more, often stands erect at the mouth of his
burrow, converting himself intoa target that no marksman could fail
to hit. When a Woodchuck, seeing a man approach, withdraws
into his hole, he does not always retreat immediately to its inner-
most recesses, but sometimes tarries near the mouth to await
developments. The hunter, availing himself of the knowledge of
this fact, proceeds deliberately till within range, throws himself
upon the ground and utters a sharp whistle, when, not infrequently,
the animal’s head will be seen to pop up inquiringly from its hole.

Woodchucks live singly or in pairs, the young as a rule remain-
ing with their parents only through the first few months. In the
latter part of the summer they usually begin to shift for themselves,
and in early autumn they may often be met with in the fields and
forests far from their holes. They now take refuge in stone walls,
hollow logs, and even in hollow trees when there is a sufficiently
large opening near the ground. It is not long before each has
fixed upon a spot agreeable to his individual fancy, where he at

148 MAMMALIA.

once commences to establish a home. The diversity of taste
exercised in this selection is hardly outdone by our own idio-
syncrasies in the same field.

Some evince a love for home and take up their abodes in the
very door-yards of their parents ; while others, impelled by a desire
to see more of the world, wander far and wide before settling down
to the sober task of excavating their holes. Some, indeed, never
give themselves this trouble, but merely take possession of the de-
serted burrows of their ancestors, where a small amount of labor
is all that is necessary to render the easily acquired, though some-
what musty apartments habitable. Woodchucks’ holes are not all
alike. There are two principal types: the first slopes at a mod-
erate angle from the surface and has a mound of dirt near its
entrance: * the other is more or less vertical for several feet
(often a metre or more) immediately below the surface, and no
loose earth can be found in its neighborhood. The latter are usu-
ally smaller than the others and several are often clustered about
one of the large family burrows, though they are occasionally
isolated. If the surface opening is in a meadow, the hole through
the sod is apt to be sharp cut and more or less circular in outline.
Intermediate forms are sometimes met with, and many of these
are in time converted into primary burrows.

The galleries do not conform to any definite or uniform_pattern,
but vary in length, depth, and direction, and in the number of
branches, nests, and surface openings, according to the location,
character of soil, number of inhabitants, and individual idiosyncrasy.
However, they resemble one another sufficiently in some respects
to admit of general description. As a rule they slant abruptly
downward from the entrance to a depth of from three to four feet
(.914 to 1.219 metres), whence, inclining slightly upward and

usually curving to one side, they extend horizontally for a varying

* The mounds in front of the large holes frequently, if not generally, contain accumulations of
the animal’s excrement, and in one case I removed fully half a bushel from a single mound,

ARCTOMYS MONAX. 149

distance (commonly from 10 to 25 feet, or 3.048 to 7.620 metres).
Two or more short lateral branches are generally given off from the
main gallery, and lead, sloping upward and then downward, to the
more or less circular chambers that contain the animal’s nests. It
has been my invariable experience to find these chambers above
the level of the bottom of the entrance incline, and I have seen one
that was within a foot and a half (.457 metres) of the surface.
The nest itself is usually composed of dry grasses and leaves,
and rarely exceeds a foot in diameter.*

It not infrequently happens, where there are two surface open-
ings, that the main gallery takes the form of a more or less irregu-
lar semicircle, with one or more lateral branches of considerable
length; both ends of the main gallery coming to the surface.

During the last week of April or first of May, the Woodchuck
commonly gives birth to from four to six young. A nest which was
dug out May 11th, 1884, contained two young, whose eyes and ears
were not yet open, though the animals were well haired. Each
measured two hundred and five millimetres in length, and weighed
one hundred and sixty-seven grammes. The nest was one metre
below the surface, and was connected with the main burrow by a
steeply sloping branch.

When unexpectedly surprised at close quarters the Woodchuck
utters a loud, shrill, and tremulous whistle that pierces the ear and
evokes from the intruder an involuntary movement or exclamation,
even though he may have been similarly startled many times before.+

The Woodchuck is pre-eminently a terrestrial animal, usually
spending the whole of his life in or upon the ground, yet some

ambitious individuals, prompted either by choice or necessity,

* The main gallery or one of its branches commonly terminates in a slight excavation which is
found to contain the animal’s excrement. No other of the lower animals with which I am acquaint-
ed constructs a special receptacle for the deposit and accumulation of its dejections.

-+ Dr. Coues speaks of this note as ‘‘ The merry whistle of the woodchuck at the mouth of its
burrow ” (Familiar Science, Vol. V, No. 12, Dec., 1878, p. 230.), but I am unable to conceive how
a sudden cry of alarm can be construed into a ‘‘ merry whistle.”

150 MAMMALIA.

occasionally take a more elevated view of the earth. Concerning
these “tree-climbing Woodchucks” I quote from an article on
the subject that I once wrote for forest and Stream:—
‘“Woodchucks, when unmolested, and particularly during their
youthful days, often climb up ten or twelve feet in shrubbery
and young trees that abound in low branches, and not infrequently
scramble up the trunks of large trees which have partially fallen or
slant sufficiently to insure them against slipping. Occasionally,
especially when hard pressed by a fast approaching enemy, they
ascend large erect trees whose lowest branches are some distance
from the ground. But, in order to do this, they Gust) fake
advantage of the impetus of a rush, for they cannot start slowly
upon the trunk of an upright tree and climb more than a few feet
without falling. Neither can they stop and go on again before
reaching a branch or other resting place.” *

In the Amerzcan Naturalist for September, 1881 (pp. 737-738),
the Hon. Charles Aldrich, of Webster City, Iowa, writes: “ About
two years ago a young man who was living with me, came in one
day saying that he had just seen a small animal, possibly a raccoon,
ascending a tree in the woods some sixty rods away. Taking my
shot-gun, I went to the place, where I soon saw the creature in the
top of a black oak tree, almost forty feet from the ground. The
animal seemed very cunning, and managed for some time to keep
on the opposite side of some of the larger limbs, but I finally got
a shot at him. He came to the ground with a bounce, when I
found it was a woodchuck. It was but slightly wounded in one of
the fore legs, and I captured it and took it home. I put it ina
hollow tree near my residence, and it remained there a couple of
weeks, freely eating the corn which I regularly fed it.”

As a rule the Woodchuck manifests great antipathy for water.
In confinement he rarely partakes of it, and in the wild state his

burrows are frequently so remote from it as to preclude the idea

==s

* Forest and Stream, Vol. XVI, No. 23, July 7, 1881, p. 453.

ARCTOMYS MONAX. c541

of his journeying there to drink. Hence it seems probable that the
moisture which his system requires is derived from the juices of
the plants on which he feeds, together with the dew or rain that
may have lodged upon them.

Having searched in vain for the record of an instance where a
Woodchuck has been known to swim, voluntarily, I take great
pleasure in being able to contribute an account of a case that
recently fell under my personal observation. On the 12th of June,
1883, while rowing up the Fulton Chain of Lakes, in company with
Dr. A. K. Fisher and Walter H. Merriam, a Woodchuck was
observed in the water directly ahead of the boat swimming across
the channel between Second and Third Lakes. He swam deep,
at times the top of his head and the tip of his tail alone appearing
above the surface. He crossed from the north to the south shore
and was evidently very much fatigued and somewhat confused, for,
although I pushed the boat close after him as he was about to
emerge, he only partly climbed out upon a small log that extend-
ed into the water, and showed no inclination to move off, or even
to change his position. | He was poked several times with a stick,
and finally Dr. Fisher actually stroked him with his hand before he
became sufficiently aroused to show that he was aware of our
presence. We left him standing partly upon the log, with one leg
still in the water, shivering, and apparently in a very unhappy state
of mind. This animal was young, and was evidently travelling
about in search of a suitable place in which to establish his home.

The Woodchuck can always be taken ina steel trap set with
proper care, and concealed from view. By this means it is gen-
erally easy to rid our fields of his presence. Dr. C. L. Bagg and
I once caught thirty-three Woodchucks in a large meadow during
a single season.

In a recent number of the Amerzcan Freld (Vol. XX, No. 10,
Sept. 8, 1883, p. 225) I recorded the following very unusual occur-

rence: On the 28th of July last, hearing a commotion among some

152 MAMMALIA.

half-grown chickens that had taken up their abode in the under-
brush back of my office, Dr. A. K. Fisher, who was with me at the
time, betook himself thither and much to his surprise found a
Woodchuck to be the cause of the disturbance. The animal was
chasing the fowls with much earnestness, and evidently meant to
catch one; while the poor chickens, already well-nigh exhausted,
were straining every nerve to escape. Fearing that the beast
(which was a young and ambitious female) might propagate a race
of Woodchucks that would rank among the depredators of the
poultry yard, the Doctor brought the chase to an abrupt termina-
tion and added the rodent’s skeleton to my osteological cabinet.
This is the only example that has thus far come to my knowledge
where a Woodchuck has pursued either bird or beast, and the
question may be fairly asked whether in this instance it purposed
to seize and devour the fowl, or, being of a jocose turn of mind,
was merely chasing it to see it run, just as a puppy would do under
similar circumstances. i |
Dr. Godman, who once had a tame Woodchuck, speaks thus of
its habit of lugging various articles into its burrow: “ Every thing
fit to make a bed of, that he could get at, was sure to be carried
under ground, and when clothes were missed, which had been hung
out to dry, it was only necessary to fasten a hook to a long stick
and draw them out of his burrow. When this was to be effected,
it was necessary to tie the Marmot up short, as he appeared to
understand perfectly what was to be done, and was by no means
willing that his bed should be rendered less comfortable. Although
he would not attempt to bite the person engaged in removing his
plunder, he would rush to the entrance and endeavor to make his
way in, as if to secure his prize, or remove it to a still-greater dis-
tance. On one occasion he carried off and stowed at a distance of
six feet from the entrance, eight pairs of stockings, a towel, and a

girl’s frock, and had he not been discovered in the act, would have

ARCTOMYS MONAX. La3

made a still larger transfer of materials to form a more luxurious
ed.” *

The power of song is not often attributed to mammals lower in
the scale than ourselves, and yet it is a fact that several species
are capable of producing musical notes which are pleasing to the
ear. In the American Naturalist for June, 1872 (Vol. VI, No. 6,
pp. 365-366), isan article from the pen of Dr. A. Kellogg, entitled
“ Senging Maryland Marmot.’ The writer states: ‘“ For the last
forty years the fact of the common Maryland Marmot, or Wood-
chuck, being able to sing like a canary bird, but ina softer, sweeter
note, has been quite familiar to myself, and others who could be
brought forward as witnesses.”. He then speaks of a very young
Woodchuck which he raised, and goes on to say: ‘It had a seat
in the little high chair at the children’s table full oft. Its earnest
and restless concupiscent purr as it scented sweet cake and fragrant
viands was wonderful. At length it became as familiar as the
family cat and finally burrowed under the doorstep. My impres-
sion is now, and has always been, that it was a female. I used to
watch the pet very closely to see how it sang, as children are apt
to do. There was a slight moving of the nostrils and lips and
consequently whiskers with an air of unmistakable happy or serene
enjoyment. I question much if this is altogether unknown to
others, always excepting naturalists.”

Woodchucks are so abundant in some parts of New Hampshire
that the farmers have long demanded legislative aid for their
riddance. At length the clamors from this source became so loud

and continuous that the Legislature was forced to recognize the

* American Natural History, Vol. I, 1842, p. 329. In treating of the habits of this species, Dr.
Godman makes some very astonishing statements, statements that are wholly incorrect as applied
to it in this region, though possibly true in some parts of its extensive habitat. His figure bears
as close a resemblance to the wolverine as it does to the Woodchuck, and yet, strangely enough,
he speaks thus of those of his predecessors: ‘‘ All the figures which have been heretofore pub-
lished of this animal (with the exception of one given in the English translation of Cuvier, borrowed
from a drawing by Le Sueur) have been copied from Edward’s, which is altogether unlike the
animal ” (pp. 330-331).

He

154 MAMMALIA.

postulations of its rural constituency, and a committee was ap-
pointed, of which the Hon. Charles R. Corning was made chair-
man. In due course of time the committee prepared a report
which was submitted to the House, accompanied by a bill pro-
viding for a bounty of ten cents for each Woodchuck killed within
the limits of the State. This act was approved Sept. 11, 1883.*

* From the ‘‘ Report of the Woodchuck Committee” I beg leave to reproduce the following
extracts: ‘‘ Your committee finds that the Woodchuck is absolutely destitute of any interesting
qualities, that is, such qualities as would recommend it to the average inhabitant of New Hamp-
shire. . . . Its body is thick and squatty, and its legs so short that its belly seems almost to
touch the ground. This is not a pleasing picture. Its size varies all the way from those reared in
Strafford County to the huge fellows that claim a homestead among the fertile farms of Grafton.
Woodchucks have been known to attain a large size, even fifteen pounds. This, however, would
not be an average Woodchuck. The casual observer is not attracted by the brilliancy of a Wood-
chuck’s color. When one thinks it over, it certainly would seem that the family of Woodchucks
was designed and brought forth under conditions of severe simplicity. While the usual color
cannot be said to be a decided red, it is not Auburn, but more like Derry, which is next to Auburn.
Your committee has now in mind the under side of the creature. The body even in very young
Woodchucks, is inclined to be gray—a very significant circumstance in the mind of your commit-
tee, when the total depravity of the animal is considered. Besides Derry and gray, there are other
hues blended about the Woodchuck ; but these are merely details, and of no practical account.
: Like thieves in all climes, the Woodchuck remains securely concealed in its hole for a
great part of the day. Its only purpose in venturing forth during the daytime is to get a good lay
of theland. . . . Like the bear, the gait of the thing under consideration is plantigrade, but
in order to occasionally exercise its toes it climbs small trees and shrubs; then, perfectly satisfied.
that its pedal extremities are in good working trim, it descends to the ground and again resumes
its monotonous waddle. The Woodchuck, despite its deformities both of mind and of body, possesses
some of the amenities of a higher civilization. It cleans its face after the manner of the squirrels
and licks its fur after the manner of a cat. Your committee is too wise, however, to be deceived
by this purely superficial observance of better habits. Contemporaneous with the ark, the Wood-
chuck has not made any material progress in social science, and it is now too late to attempt to re-
form the wayward sinner. The average age of the Woodchuck is too long to please your commit-
tee, but the estimate of Woodchuck population can only be approximated. . . . The Wood-
chuck is not only a nuisance, but alsoa bore. It burrows beneath the soil, and then chuckles to
see a mowing machine, man and all, slump into one of these holes and disappear. . . . Your
committee is confident that a small bounty will prove of incalculable good; at all events, even as
an experiment, it is certainly worth trying; therefore your committee would respectfully recom-
mend that the accompanying bill be passed. CHARLES R. CORNING, for the Committee.

“* An AcT PROVIDING FOR A BOUNTY ON WOODCHUCKS.

‘‘ Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives in general Court convened :

‘Section 1. Tf any person shall kill any Woodchuck within this State, and shall preduce the tail
thereof to any one of the selectmen of the town within which said woodchuck was killed, or if
there be no selectmen in said town, then to any one of the selectmen of the nearest town having
such selectmen, said selectmen shall take the said tail and so dispose of it that it shall not again be
used for the purposes of bounty, and shall pay to the person so producing it the sum of ten cents:
Provided, that no bounty shall be paid for any woodchuck killed on Sunday.

“Section 2. The selectmen of every such town shall keep a true account of the moneys so paid
as bounty on woodchucks, and upon presentation of such amount, certified by a majority of such

CASTOR FIBER CANADENSIS. 155

Family CASTORID.
CASTOR’ REBER CANADENSIS: Winn.) Allen:
American Beaver.

That the Beaver was once abundant in all parts of the Adiron-
dacks is attested by the numerous remains and effects of their
dams; but at present they are so exceedingly rare that few people
know that they still exist here.

Samuel de Champlain found them abundant in the Richelieu
River in the early part of July, 1609.. He said of them: “ There
is also quite a number of Beavers, as well in the river as in several
other streams which fall into it.” (Documentary History of New
Morne, Vol. ITT p..5:)

Dr. DeKay says that, in 1815, ‘‘a party of St. Regis Indians
from Canada ascended the Oswegatchie river in the county of St.
Lawrence in pursuit of Beaver. In consequence of the previous
hostilities between this country and England, this district had not
been hunted in some years, and the Beaver had consequently been
undisturbed. The party, after an absence of a few weeks, returned
with three hundred Beaver skins. These were seen by my in-
formant [Mr. T. O. Fowler], who adds that since that time very
few have been observed.” * They were not immediately extermi-
nated, however, for Mr. Calvin V. Graves writes me that in 1834
a trapper named Hume caught six Beavers in Silverdog Pond, in
the northeastern part of the town of Diana, in Lewis County; and
that a few years later Norman and Hume caught three Beavers on
the middle branch of the Oswegatchie, near Harrisville. These
are believed to have been the last Beavers which inhabited that
part of the Wilderness.

selectmen to be just and true, to the treasurer of the state, in the month of June, the same shall be
paid from the state treasury either to the representative of such town or to the selectmen thereof,
upon their written order.

‘Section 3. This act shall take effect from and after its passage.

‘« Approved September 11, 1883.”

* Zoology of New York, Part I, 1842, p. 73.

156 MAMMALIA.

I am informed by William Clowbridge, an old hunter and trap-
per, that during his boyhood Beavers were common along the
western border of the Adirondacks. In the year 1819 he caught
two in one of their huts on the outlet of Brantingham Lake, in
Lewis County, on which stream they had then two dams. In
March, 1837, he caught, at Little Otter Lake, also in Lewis
County, the last Beaver observed on this side of the Adirondacks.
The veteran hunter, Asa Puffer, was at the time trapping for the
same animal. Mr. Clowbridge tells me that the spring was un-
usually forward, and that there was some open water along the
north shore of the lake, and about its outlet. He made a small
opening in the dam, and in the gap thus formed set his trap, a few
inches below the surface of the water. On returning to the lake,
a week afterward, an eagle was seen to rise and fly away from the
vicinity of the outlet. Proceeding to the dam he could find neither
the trap nor the weight to which it had been attached. He then
went to the spot from which the eagle rose and there found the
Beaver in the trap.

Mr. John Constable has kindly presented me with the skull of a
very large Beaver which was “trapped by William Wood, in the
fall of 1837, ina pond northwest of Indian Point on the Raquette.”
Mr. Constable writes me that an old Indian who had been unsuc-
cessful in his attempts to capture this same Beaver, and who was
then about to leave this part of the Wilderness, told Wood where
the animal was to be found. Wood carried his boat to the pond
and paddled twice around it, searching carefully for signs, without
going ashore. At last he discovered fur upon the root of an old
birch that projected into the water. Here he placed the trap,
attached to a float, and on the second day found the Beaver in it.

Dr.’ DeKay, writing in 1841, says: “In the summer of 1840, we
traversed those almost interminable forests on the highlands sepa-
rating the sources of the Hudson and St. Lawrence, and included

in Hamilton, Herkimer, and a part of Essex counties. In the

CASTOR FIBER CANADENSIS. Ty

course of our journey we saw several dcaver szgus, as they are
termed by the hunters. The Beaver has been so much harassed
in this State, that it has ceased making dams, and contents itself
with making large excavations in the banks of streams. Within
the past year, (1841,) they have been seen on Indian and Cedar
rivers, and at Paskungameh or Tupper’s lake; and although they
are not numerous, yet they are still found in scattered families in
the northern part of Hamilton, the southern part of St. Lawrence
and the western part of Essex counties. Through the considerate
attention of Mr. A. McIntyre, those yet existing in the southern
part of Franklin county are carefully preserved from the avidity of
the hunter, and there probably the last of the species in the Atlantic
States will be found. We noticed the remains of an old and large
beaver dam at the outlet of Lake Fourth in Herkimer county, but
it is now nearly covered up by the drift sand from the lake” (loc.
Gtk, Pp. 74):

Watson, in his History of Essex County, published in 1869,
says: ‘The Beaver was found in great abundance throughout the
region, by the first occupants. They no longer exist, it is be-
lieved, in the territory of Essex County” (p. 348).

During the fall of 1880, a Beaver was caught on Raquette River,
between the Upper Saranac and Big Tupper’s Lake, and about a
mile below the ‘“‘ Sweeney carry.” The skin was stuffed and pre-
served by the hunter who captured the animal. Subsequent to
this date, saplings were cut in the neighborhood, showing that
another was at work there. I have myself examined the locality
and brought away a number of cuttings. They consist of young
poplars (Populus tremuloides) averaging from two to four inches
(50 to 100 mm.) in diameter ; the largest measured fourteen inches
(355 mm.) in circumference.

At present there is a small colony of Beavers on a stream that
empties into the West Branch of the St. Regis River. It is prob-
ably the colony referred to by DeKay, in 1842, as “‘ yet existing in

158 MAMMALIA.

the southern part of Franklin county.” It is to be earnestly hoped
that the hunters who frequent that part of the Wilderness will
spare no pains to protect these animals from molestation.

No animal has figured more prominently in the affairs of any
nation than has the Beaver in the early history of the ‘‘ New
World.” Its influence on the exploration, colonization, and settle-
ment of this country was very great. The trade in its peltries
proved a source of competition and strife, not only among the local
merchants, but also between the several colonies, disputes over the
boundaries having frequently arisen from this cause alone. In-
deed, on more than one occasion, jealousy of the Beaver trade led
to serious difficulties in the struggle for supremacy between the
three rival powers—the Dutch, English, and French.

The Provincial Seal of New Netherland was a Beaver resting
on a shield, encircled by the words “ Szgz//um Novi Belgz.”

In the year 1671, there appeared in Amsterdam a paper en-
titled, “‘ De Nieuwe en Onbekende Weereld: of Beschryving van
America en’t Zuidland: door Arnoldus Montanus.” Much of this
account is devoted to the natural history of the country, and it
contains some extraordinary tales concerning the animals found
there. The author's remarks upon the Beaver run as follows:
“ But in addition to other wild animals Vew Netherland furnishes,
according to the occular evidence of Adrzaen van der Donk, full
eighty thousand beavers a year. /Pény relates how these animals
castrate themselves, and leave these parts to the hunters, inasmuch
as they are much sought after, being an effectual remedy for mania,
retention of the afterbirth, amenorrhcea, dizziness, gout, lameness,
belly and tooth aches, dullness of vision, poisoning and rheuma-
tism. But Puy commits a grave error; for the Beavers have
very small testicles fastened in such a manner to the back bone
that they cannot remove them except with life. Moreover, they
live in the water and on land together in troops, in houses built of

timber over a running stream. The houses excite no common ad-

CASTOR FIBER CANADENSIS. 159

miration; they are thus constructed—the Beavers first collect to-
gether all the drift wood which they find along the river, and
whenever this falls short, they gnaw away, in the next adjoining
wood, the sweetest bark all around with the front teeth, of which
they have two in the upper, and two in the lower gum, they then
cut right around the trunk until the tree falls; when they also
shorten the pieces in like manner, to adapt them to the proposed
building. The females carry the pieces on the back, the males
support it behind so that it may not fall off. The houses rise in-
geniously to the height of five stories; they are smeared above
with clay to protect them from the rain; in the middle is a con-
venient aperture through which to dive into the water as soon as
they perceive any person. Wherefore, one of the troop keeps
watch by turns, and in the winter a second keeps the water open
by constant beating of the tail. The tail is flattish without hair,
and most dainty food which in some places is served up as a rare
delicacy. The beavers go with young sixteen weeks; they bear

once a year four young, which cry and suck like young children ;

g,
for the mother rises on her hind paws and gives each two a breast
as she has only two breasts between the fore legs; these legs re-
semble somewhat those of the dog; the hindmost, like those of
geese, lap in some measure over each other. On both sides of the
privy parts lie two swellings enclosed in separate membranes.
From the privy parts oozes an oleaginous humor, with which they
smear all the accessible parts of the body in order to keep dry.
Inwardly they resemble a cut up hog; they live on leaves and
bark; are excessively attached to their young; the wind-hairs
which rise glittering above the back, fall off in the summer, and
grow again by the fall; they are short necked ; have strong sinews
and muscles ; move rapidly in the water and on land; attacked by
men or dogs, they bité fiercely. The pure Castor, so highly prised
by physicians, consists of oblong follicles, resembling a wrinkled

pear which are firmly attached to the os pudzs of the female beaver;

160 MAMMALIA.

the Indians cut up the little balls of the males with their tobacco as
they afford no castor.” *

In the year 1732 the immortal Linnzus was sent, by the Royal
Academy of Upsal, on a tour through Lapland. In his personal
journal he says: ‘“‘I set out alone from the city of Upsal on Friday
May 12, 1732, at eleven o'clock, being at that time within half a
day of twenty-five years of age.” Sixteen days later, when at a
place called Genow, the young naturalist had the opportunity,
apparently for the first time, of examining a recently killed Beaver.
Of it he said, ‘I inquired concerning the food of this animal, and
was told it was the bark of trees, the birch, fir, and mountain ash,
but more especially the aspen, and the castor becomes larger in
proportion as the Beaver can get more of the aspen bark. This
confirmed the truth of what Assessor Rothman formerly asserted,
that castor is secreted from the intermediate bark of the poplar,
which has the same scent, though not quite so strong: hence it is
to be presumed that a decoction of this bark, if the dose were suf-
ficiently large, would have the same medicinal effects. I wonder
no naturalist has classed this animal with the Mouse tribe [which
term was then applied to all Rodents], as its broad depressed form
at first sight suggested to me that it was of that family.” + Thus,
only a century and a half ago, appeared the germ of the idea that
recognized in the structure of the Beaver its affinities with the
members of the order Glires, to which order it was assigned by
Linnzus in his great work, the Systema Nature.

Thomas Pennant said: ‘The skins are a prodigious article. of
trade ; being the foundation of the hat manufactory. In 1763 were
sold, in a single sale of the Wudson's Bay Company, 54,670 skins.” f

* Documentary History of New York, Vol. IV, pp. 120-121.
+ Lachesis Lapponica, Vol. I, 1811, pp. 88-89.
+ Synopsis of Quadrupeds, 1771, p. 258.

MUS DECUMANUS. 161

Family MURID#.

MUS DECUMANUS Pallas.

Rat.

This ubiquitous naturalized exotic is found even within the con-
fines of the Adirondacks. But his presence here omens no good.
Like the lumberman, whose footsteps he follows, he is the personi-
fication of destruction, and desecrates the soil on which he treads.

He is omnivorous, greedy, and fierce, and is totally lacking in
qualities of a compensatory character. His long residence in the
very stronghold of his enemies has developed hereditary habits of
great circumspection, and where much persecuted he is one of the
most cunning and crafty of mammals. The means devised for his
extermination may be numbered by hundreds, but he is so prolific,
and so soon learns to avoid the artifices designed for his capture,
that he has spread himself over nearly the whole civilized world.

The Rat ranks among the worst enemies of the farmer.” Not
only does he force his way into the cellar, the milk-house, and the
granary; but he also commits great havoc inthe poultry-yard. He
wantonly destreys far more than he consumes. The choicest fruits
and vegetables are ruined by a single bite; smoked hams sus-
pended from the rafters show the marks of his sharp teeth ; pans
of rich cream are soiled by his lash-like tail; large holes through
the plank-walls of the oat-bin leave no doubt as to the identity of
the thief; and the constant loss of eggs and of young chickens and
ducks may be regarded as one of the most serious evils his pres-
ence occasions. Even the sleeping child and the shrouded corpse
have been mutilated by his cruel jaws.

He is not content with deriving his sustenance at our expense,
but, to save himself the trouble of a walk between meals, takes up
his abode in or under our dwellings and outhouses. In unsettled

regions he often makes long journeys from house to house, but I

162 MAMMALIA.

have never known him to make his home at any great distance
from buildings.

Rats are good swimmers, and in their migrations from place to
place (which are usually performed at night, and thus escape
notice) they do not hesitate to swim rivers and ponds that lie in the
way. Though chiefly nocturnal, they are often seen in the day-
time.

They are excessively prolific, commonly bringing forth from
seven to twelve young at a birth, and having several litters each
season. Some idea of the number of Rats inhabiting large cities
may be had from the fact that, at Paris, in a fortnight’s time, more
than six hundred thousand were killed in the sewers. Their skins

were manufactured into kid gloves.

MUS MUSCULUS Linneus.

House Mouse.

The House Mouse is another exotic that has found the climate
and productions of America so much to its liking that it has multi-
plied and diffused itself over the whole of the inhabited portions of
our continent.

Like the rat, it abounds in our largest cities and makes itself a
conspicuous, albeit unwelcome, member of the household; but unlike
the latter it also inhabits districts as yet unoccupied by civilized man.

Such places, however, do not seem congenial to its urban disposi-
tion, and it is probable that none but those who, from long residence
in the country, have acquired a taste for adventure, make bold to
desert their traditional haunts, together with the cats and traps with
which they have been for generations familiar, to seek new homes,
amid new surroundings and new enemies.

I have observed the House Mouse in many of the camps scattered
through the Adirondacks, and have killed it, though rarely, at a

considerable distance from the habitations of man. It is common

MUS MUSCULUS. 163

in the fertile valleys along the outskirts of the Wilderness, living in
the fields during the short summer season, and returning to the
dwellings, barns, and haystacks at the approach of winter.

It is omnivorous, and, in the main, nocturnal. It usually gives
birth to from five to nine young at a time, and has several litters in

a season.
The House Mouse as a Vocalist.

It has long been known that individuals of the common House
Mouse occasionally possess very exceptional vocal powers. These
“singing mice’ have appeared, from time to time, in various parts
of the country, and their performances have been eagerly listened to
and carefully recorded by the delighted hearers.

My aunt, Mrs. Helen M. Bagg, once had a singing Mouse in her
house at Detroit, Michigan, and has kindly favored me with the fol-
lowing account of it: ‘“ Early in the spring of 1858 I would occasion-
ally hear faint musical sounds, like the warbling of a young bird, issue
from the china closet, which was on one side of the dining room.
Several days passed before I could get any clew to the sounds. We
had singing birds—a mocking bird and canaries—and every one de-
clared it was the birds I had heard, but I felt equally certain the
sounds came from the closet. One afternoon when the house was
quiet, the children taking their naps, and the cook having ceased to
rattle her dishes, I opened the closet door and sat down where I
could have a full view of the inside. After a long and patient waiting
a mouse peered out from behind the plates, climbed up a little way on
the brackets, and, after looking around several times, began to sing !
I need not describe my feelings. Its song was not much of a song,
‘as songs go, but still a distinct musical effort. Sometimes it would
run up an octave and end with a decided attempt at a trill. Some-
times it would try to trill all the notes. An octave seemed to be
about its range. I could distinctly see the expansion and vibration

of its throat and chest as one can in a song bird. Its favorite posi-

164 MAMMALIA.

tion when singing was an erect one, standing on its hind feet, and
holding by its forward ones to the wall or bracket, almost invariably
turning its face toward us. It remained with us several weeks, and
at length became so familiar as to appear to enjoy company, seem-
ingly putting forth all its strength to amuse us with its little song,
which improved daily in tone and volume, but not in compass. Its
voice became so clear that we could frequently hear it in the parlor
that opened out of the dining room. I frequently invited my visitors
to listen to it. My next-door neighbors occasionally heard it in their
house, but not very distinctly. It evidently did not feel at home
there. Suddenly as it came it disappeared—probably falling a prey
to some cat during its rambles from house to house.”

In 1804 Dr. Samuel Cramer, of Virginia, communicated to Dr.
Barton the following very curious account of the influence of music
upon the common House Mouse. He said: “ One evening, in the
month of December, as a few officers on board of a British man of
war, in the harbour of Portsmouth, were seated around the fire, one
of them began to play a A/azzézve air on the violin. He had scarce-
ly performed ten minutes, when a mouse, apparently frantic, made
its appearance, in the centre of the floor, near the large table which
usually stands in the wardroom, the residence of the lieutenants in
ships of the line. The strange gestures of the little animal strongly
excited the attention of the officers, who, with one consent, resolved
to suffer it to continue its singular actions unmolested. Its exer-
tions now appeared to be greater, every moment. It shook its
head, leaped about the table, and exhibited signs of the most extatic
delight.

“Tt was observed, that in proportion to the gradation of the tones
of the soft point, the extacy of the animal appeared to be increased,
and vice versa. After performing actions, which an animal so dimin-
utive would, at first sight, seem incapable of, the little creature, to

the astonishment of the delighted spectators, suddenly ceased to

HESPEROMYS LEUCOPUS. 165

move; fell down, and expired, without evincing any symptoms of
. Yow
pain.
Linneus, in his brief diagnosis of this species, said : “ Delectatur
musica.’ +

BESPEROMYS. BEUCOPUS (Baf.) WeConte,
White-footed Mouse ; Deer Mouse; Field Mouse.

The White-footed Mouse is common in all parts of the Adiron-
dacks. In the wild state it feeds upon beechnuts and a variety of
seeds ; in captivity it is omnivorous,

Its haunts are various. Some take up their abode in dense ever-
green forests, others in hardwood groves, and others still in the open
fields. Many find the way into the hunter’s camp and the log-house
of the frontiersman ; while in the more cultivated districts they vie
with the common house mouse in the possession of our homes. — Dr.
Richardson tells us that in the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Terri-
tory, “no sooner is a fur-post established than this little animal be-
comes an inmate of the dwelling-houses” (Fauna Boreali Ameri-
cana, 1829, p. 142).

It is an excellent climber and I have often found its nest in holes
in living trees, more than seventy feet (21.33 metres) above the
‘ground. While ona snow-shoe walk with a friend one bright moon-
light evening, several winters ago, one of them was observed skip-
ping lightly over the snow a short distance ahead. We gave chase,
but the mouse escaped by running up the trunk of a smooth-barked
beech hard by. My friend, who was not aware of its climbing pro-
pensities, looked on in amazement while the mouse, with as much
ease and nimbleness as a squirrel, ascended the tree and disap-
peared in a knot-hole high among the branches.

The White-footed Mouse does not hibernate. Except during the

* The Philadelphia Medical and Physical Journal, Vol. I, 1804, pp. 37-38.
+ Systema Nature, Ed. X, Vol. I, 1758, p. 62.

166 MAMMALIA.

severest weather its tracks may be seen on the snow throughout the
winter, its long tail leaving a furrow by which it may always be rec-
ognized. In the autumn it lays up an immense store of provision
for so small an animal. The beechnut constitutes its favorite food,
and in seasons when it is to be had no other article of diet is sought.
The hoards are generally established in holes in trees or in hollow
logs, and are, therefore, frequently discovered by the wood-chopper.
The beechnuts they contain are usually shucked, and I have, on sev-
eral occasions, removed two or three quarts from a single hoard.
Robert Kennicott tells us that in western New York, Joseph
Kennicott found, “ within a stump in a clover-field, several quarts of
clean seed of red clover, collected by a family of these mice.” *
They sometimes select odd sites for their store-houses. In October
and November, 1881, Drs. Hoadley, Fisher, and myself occupied the
neat log-house that is commonly known as the “Club Camp ”’ at Big
Moose Lake. We were here much annoyed by the White-footed
Mice, which not only made way with any eatables that happened to
be lying about, but also lugged off a quantity of the cotton we had
brought for stuffing birds. They even climbed up to our drying-
boards and pulled out the cotton which we had carefully tucked under
the shoulders and backs of the newly-made bird skins. No place
was free from their depredations, and the skins were only made
secure by suspending them from the ceiling by means of cleats
fastened to the smooth spruce rafters. The loss of the cotton was a
matter of no small consequence, since it had to be carried there from
a distance of more than forty miles. A careful search was begun,
but no trace of it could be found till a small cupboard, supposed to be
mouse-proof, was unlocked, when the whole of it fell in view. In
this same cupboard we discovered an old shoe well filled with crackers
and sugar which had been taken from the kitchen, and beechnut

meats which had been brought from some distance outside. The

* Quadrupeds of Illinois, 1857, p. 91.

HESPEROMYS LEUCOPUS. 167

locker was entered from the top, and the path to it was circuitous
and difficult.

The White-footed Mouse is fond of flesh and, like the flying squir-
rel, eagerly devours dead birds placed in its way. Indeed, this is
done so naturally, that the suspicion arises as to whether it does not
sometimes capture and prey upon the smaller birds while on their
roosts at night.

Dr. Samuel Lockwood had a caged Flesperomys from Florida.
“Sometimes a fly would enter the cage, when she would spring at,
and catch it, sometimes with her mouth, and at others with her hands.
This she would eat with great relish. . . . A little sod of fresh
grass and white clover was occasionally put into the cage. This she
enjoyed greatly, eating the greens like a rabbit; only always insisting
on sitting up to do it. It was interesting to witness how ready she
was for emergencies. Sitting on her hind feet, she would take hold
with her hands of a blade of grass, and begin eating at the tip. The
spear would rapidly shorten, and seemingly she must now stoop to
finish it, or do it in the ordinary quadrupedal style. Now that was
just what she did not choose to do. So when the emergency came,
she would stoop down, and in a trice cut the blade off close to the sod
with just one nip; then up again on her feet in a sitting posture, she
would finish it in a comfortable and becoming way.” *

In personal appearance the White-footed Mouse is far more at-
tractive than the other members of the family. Its prominent, bead-
like eyes, large ears, and long tail are striking characteristics, while
the rich fawn-color of the sides and back, sharply contrasted with the
snowy white of the under parts and feet, combine to produce an
exterior of much beauty. Add to this the natural agility and grace
of its movements and we have an animal that, by any other name
than mouse, would be regarded as one of the most interesting inhab -

itants of our forests.

* American Naturalist, Vol. V, No. 12, Dec., 1871, p. 763.

168 MAMMALIA.

Its disposition is in perfect harmony with its attractive appearance,
for even the flying squirrel is not more gentle and affectionate.
When first captured it rarely offers to bite, and within a few hours
will generally eat from the hand. It manifests neither fear nor
suspicion while in its box or on one’s person, but if let loose in a
large room is frightened when approached, and seeks to hide. If
given the opportunity, it is pretty sure to select some particular
pocket for its home. It is also fond of running up one’s sleeves, and
when pinched by the movements of the arm will never think of
biting.

A few years ago I had a tame White-footed Mouse to which I had
become considerably attached. During the day it never left my
person, and at night was always placed in a large glass jar with an
abundance of cotton. It would eat almost anything offered, sitting
on its haunches on my hand or shoulder, and would eagerly lap
water or milk from a glass, or from a finger wet in the same. _ It
was scrupulously neat, continually washing its face and cleaning its
soft fur. Many times each day it would reach back and grasp its
long tail, which, guided and manipulated by the fore-paws, was sev-
eral times in succession drawn for its entire length through the mouth.
When let loose on the snow it invariably burrowed down with great
rapidity. One clear cold day in midwinter, the temperature being
many degrees below zero, I started on my usual snow-shoe walk
with the Mouse asleep in my coat pocket. I had gone some distance
and forgotten its presence, when a faint cry of distress warned me
that all was not right. It responded to my call only by another cry
of pain, fainter even than the first. On taking it from my pocket, it
gave me a slight nip, and almost immediately expired. It was very
cold, and in a few minutes was frozen through.

In the selection of sites for their nests scarcely less individuality
is shown than in the choice of their haunts. Those that live in the
deep forests commonly build in holes in trees or logs, or in the roots

of stumps ; while those that dwell in open fields excavate chambers

HESPEROMYS LEUCOPUS. 169

.

in the earth several inches below the surface, in which the young are
reared. Mr. Kennicott says he has known of ‘“ numerous instances
in which several have been observed inhabiting the same hole in a
tree with a family of flying squirrels.” -

I have found this species with young at various times from April
until November, but do not know how many litters it has in a
season. As late as the 8th of November (1883) a nest was ploughed
up in one of our fields at Locust Grove. It was lined with feathers
and contained half-grown young. On the 29th of the same month |
secured in one trap a female and her young, which were two-thirds
grown. The mother bore evidence of having recently been nursed,
and the stomach of the youngsters contained nothing but milk.
From three to six are produced at a birth.

The young are leaden-gray in color and their ears are dispropor-
tionately large. Late in June the first litter begins to show pale
_ fawn color—generally commencing on the flanks.

Throughout its southern range, and even so far north as southern
New England and portions of New York, the White-footed Mouse,
like the red, gray, and flying squirrels, is known to construct ‘“ out-
side nests” for the reception of its young. Such nests are usually
more or less cocoa-nut shaped, and sometimes measure a foot in
longest diameter. They consist of moss, grasses, leaves, inner bark,
and other similar substances. The opening is at or near the bottom.
They are commonly placed on a horizontal branch at a varying dis-
tance from the ground. Those that | have found have generally
been in thickets overrun with S7zz/ax, and were rarely more than ten
feet high. Nests of birds are sometimes refitted and occupied by
these animals. In the Adirondacks I have never known them to
build or inhabit outside nests.

Dr. Barton, in 1804, published a note ‘On a species of North-
American Wandering Mouse,” which, from the meagre description
given, seems to have been the White-footed Mouse. The Doctor
says :—

12

170 MAMMALIA

“Tn the year 1796, a particular species of Mouse made its appear-
ance at Burlington-Bay, on the west end of Lake-Ontario, and at
Long-Point, on the north side of Lake-Erie. They came out of the
woods, from the northward, in troops of thousands, and committed
great havoc among the Indian-corn.

“These animals were so numerous, that, for a good while, they
were caught by hundreds, at a time. It is said, that the cats, tired
of killing them, came, at length, to play with them, without offering
them any injury.

“Even in the winter-time, the corn-cribs were extremely offensive,
from the great numbers of these mice, that had perished in them.

“This mouse is described asa small species, smaller than the com-
mon House-Mouse ; with a white belly, and a very long tail. The

general colour was that of the House-Mouse.” *

Hesperomys as a Vocalist.

Mr. W.O. Hiskey, in a note in the Amerizcan Naturalist for May,
1871 (Vol. V, No. 3, pp. 171-172) states: “I was sitting a few even-
ings since, not far from a half-open closet door, when I was startled
by a sound issuing from the closet, of such marvellous beauty that I
at once asked my wife how Bobbie Burns (our canary) had found his
way into the closet, and what could start him to singing such a queer
and sweet song in the dark. I procured a light and found it to be a
mouse! He had filled an over-shoe from a basket of pop-corn
which had been popped and placed in the closet in the morning.
Whether this rare collection of food inspired him with song I know
not, but I had not the heart to disturb his corn, hoping to hear from
him again. Last night his song was renewed. I approached with
a subdued light and with great caution, and had the pleasure of see-
ing him sitting among his corn and singing his beautiful solo. I

observed him without interruption for ten minutes, not over four feet

* The Philadelphia Medical and Physical Journal, Vol. I, 1804. pp. 31-32.

HESPEROMYS LEUCOPUS. 171

from him. His song was not a chirp, but a continuous song of mu-
sical tone, a kind of ¢0-z7¢-to-wee-woo-woo-wee-woo, quite varied in
pitch.” ;

The most extended and interesting account that I have seen of a
singing FZesperomys is from the pen of the Rev. Samuel Lockwood.
The subject of his sketch was caught in Florida by Philip Ryall,
Esq., and was presented to Dr. Lockwood, who named it /Zesfce.
Its vocal powers were extraordinary, and two of its most frequently
repeated performances were termed respectively the Wheel Song
and the Grand Role, and were expressed in musical notation by Mr.
Ferris C. Lockwood. After describing her ordinary songs in great
detail, Dr. Lockwood observes: ‘A remarkable fact in the above
role is the scope of little Hespie’s musical powers. Her soft, clear
voice falls an octave with all the precision possible; then at the
wind-up, it rises again into a very quick trill on C sharp and D.

“Though it be at the risk of taxing belief, yet | must in duty record
one of Hespie’s most remarkable performances. She was gamboling
in the large compartment of her cage, in a mood indicating intense
animal enjoyment, having woke from a long sleep, and partaken of
some favorite food. She burst into a fulness of song very rich in its
variety. While running and jumping, she rolled off what I have
called her Grand Role, then sitting, she went over it again, ringing
out the strangest diversity of changes, by an almost whimsical trans-
position of the bars; then without for an instant stopping the music,
she leapt into the wheel, started it revolving at its highest speed,
and went through the Wheel Song in exquisite style, giving several
repetitions of it. After this she returned to the large compartment,
took up again the Grand Role, and put into it some variations of
execution which astonished me. One measure | remember was so
silvery and soft, that I said to a lady who was listening, that a canary
able to execute that would be worth a hundred dollars. I occasionally
detected what I am utterly unable to explain, a literal dual sound, very

like a boy whistling as he draws a stick along the pickets of a fence.

r72 MAMMALIA.

So the music went on, as I| listened, watch in hand, until actually
nine minutes had elapsed. Now the wonderful fact is that the rest
between the roles was never much more than for a second of time ;
and during all this singing the muscles could be seen in vigorous
action through the entire length of the abdomen. This feat would
be impossible to a professional singer; and the nearest to it that J
have seen was the singing of a wild mocking bird in a grove.

“For several days the wheel grated on its axle. This afforded
Hespie great delight ; and her own little warble was completely lost
in the harsher sound. It was pretty much as it is with some of the
modern methods of praise ; as when the vocal is subordinated to the
instrumental, a mere murmur of song, on which the organist comes
down as with the sound of many waters. A drop of oil, and the
sound of the friction stopped. This quite excited her temper ; and
she bit the wires of her wheel most viciously. A little device was
hit upon which set her in good humor again. A strip of stout
writing paper, a half inch wide, was pinned down in such a way that
its clean cut upper edge pressed against the wires of the wheel,
making with its revolution a pleasant, purring sound. It was on the
principle, exactly, of the old-time watchman’s rattle, and the old toy
known as a cricket. This for a while greatly delighted the capricious
creature, and she made the wheel almost fly; at the same time, in
unison with the whirr of the wheel, was her own soft, cheery warble.
It was very low, yet very distinct.”

Another noteworthy peculiarity of Hespie’s was that. she some-
times ate and sang at the same time. On one occasion a slender
twig of black alder, about an inch in length, was given her. ‘She
was delighted, and at once began in her usual pretty way, sitting
up, to eat the bark, although it was very bitter. Thus she sat
‘bolt upright ;’ and the manner in which she held this little black
stick in both hands up to her mouth, at the precise angle in which a

fife is held, although nibbling away, yet singing at the same time, it

EVOTOMYS RUTILUS GAPPERI. 173

looked so like a little fifer playing on an ebony fife that laughter was
mresistible.” *

EVOTOMYS RUTILUS GAPPERI (Vigors) Coues.
Red-backed Mouse ; Long-eared Wood Mouse.

The Red-backed Mouse is abundant in all parts of the Adirondacks.
It occurs on the summits of the tree-covered mountains as well as in
the deepest valleys. It is essentially a wood species in its local dis-
tribution, rarely frequenting the beaver meadows or the fields of the
farmer. It often enters the woodman’s camp, and I have sometimes
caught it even in the luxurious log-houses which have, during the
past few years, supplanted the old-time shanties in many parts of
the Adirondacks.

It feeds upon beechnuts and a variety of seeds, berries, and roots,
and also, at certain times in the winter season, upon the bark of
shrubs and trees. The beech, maple, ash, and bass suffer most
severely from its attacks, and in the order named. The bark is
generally removed in irregular areas from the large roots just above
the ground ; but sometimes saplings, and even trees a foot (305 mm.)
or more in diameter are completely girdled to the height of three or
four feet (approximately 915 to 1220 mm.). The damage thus done
to our deciduous groves is sometimes great, but does not compare
with the ravages committed by the field mouse (Arvicola ripartus).

The Wood Mouse is terrestrial, like the other members of the
Arvicoline series, and commonly lives in burrows in the ground. It
sometimes makes regular runways similar to those of the field mouse,
but usually travels freely over the surface, not confining itself to any
prescribed course. It is both diurnal and nocturnal. I have shot it
at noonday, scampering over the leaves in the deep woods, and
dodging in and out between the rocks of a lake shore. I have also

seen it after dark in shanties and log-houses ; and have caught many

* American Naturalist, Vol. V, No. 12, Dec., 1871, pp. 765-767.

174 MAMMALIA.

during the night in traps baited with beechnuts and meat. Its
ordinary gait is a moderately fast trot; I have never seen it pro-
ceed in leaps.. Still, it runs swiftly for a short distance and its
quick movements render it difficult of capture.

The nest of the Red-backed Mouse is usually, in this region, placed
in a burrow in the earth, though it is sometimes found in a half-
decayed log, or under the roots of a stump. I have shot females,
each containing four young, as early as the 3d of April, and as late
as the 4th of October. I have also taken a female early in June that
was nursing her second brood. Hence it is clear that several litters

are produced in a season.
The flesh of the Red-backed Mouse is tender and well flavored.

ARVICOLA RIPARIUS Oc
Meadow Mouse ; Field Mouse.

The Meadow Mouse is common in the cleared lands within and
around the Adirondack region. It occurs on many of the beaver
meadows, but is never abundant in the coniferous forests.

It feeds, in the main, upon the roots of grasses, though in winter it
sometimes commits great havoc by gnawing the bark of trees. Rich
meadows and pasture lands constitute its favorite haunts, and are apt
to be cut up, in all directions, by its deeply-worn runways. It is
strictly terrestrial, rarely mounting even the log or limb that may lie
in its path, and is both nocturnal and diurnal.

It does not hibernate. In the beginning of winter, when the
ground is frozen for some distance below the surface, it abandons its
burrows and lives entirely above ground. _ Its nests of dry grass then
lie flat upon the surface, without attempt at concealment, and are
soon buried in the snow. As winter advances and the snow becomes
deeper, the Meadow Mice regularly betake themselves to their nests
for rest. The heat from their bodies soon melts the snow in contact

with and immediately adjoining the nests, which, from the continued

ARVICOLA RIPARIUS. nyo

operation of the same cause, come to be surrounded by slowly-grow-
ing dome-shaped chambers, These increase in size until the spring
thaws, in March and April, melt away their roofs, thus admitting the
light and cold. They are then deserted. During snow-shoe tramps
over the fields at this season I have often noticed holes, from a few
inches to a foot in diameter, appearing as if sharply cut in the surface.
On inspection, they invariably proved to be the summits of these
dome-shaped cavities, and a nest was always found at the bottom of
each, surrounded by a zone of bare ground. They ranged from one
to two feet (approximately 300 to 600 mm.) in diameter, and most of
them were two feet in height. From the bottom of each chamber
numerous runways and burrows penetrated the snow in all directions.
Some followed along directly upon the ground, while others sloped
upward at various angles. Many ran horizontally at varying levels,
resting upon the dense strata that indicated the surface lines at |
different times during the winter. Near each nest was one or more
burrows that reached the surface and contained considerable accumu-
lations of the animal’s dejections. These seemed to be watch holes
where the Mice came regularly to look at the prospect outside.

Meadow Mice sometimes, but not often, travel upon the snow, and
they occasionally stray so_far that they are unable to find the holes
through which they came up. If this happens when there is a hard
crust, through which they cannot burrow, they wander aimlessly about
for a while and finally perish from the cold. In March and April I
have several times found them frozen to death upon the crust.

They are always present in greater or less numbers, but are
not often sufficiently abundant to direct the attention of the farmer
to their depredations. Occasionally, however, they multiply to such
an alarming extent that the most superficial observer is impressed
with the magnitude of their ravages. They devastate the meadows,
grain-fields, and orchards of the farmer, and ruin the nurseries of the
horticulturist. Whether these periodical invasions are the result of

unchecked reproduction, or of migration, has not been positively

176 MAMMALIA.

ascertained. Fortunately, they generally recur at long intervals.
Arboreous vegetation suffers most during winters of deep snow, the
snow enabling the Mice to reach the bark at a considerable height,
and at the same time protecting them from the inclemencies of the
weather, I have seen fruit trees, and also saplings of the maple and
beech, more or less completely girdled to the height of four and even
five feet (1.21 to 1.52 metres). During the winter of 1868 or 13869
thousands of young trees were destroyed in Lewis County alone.

In places where corn or grain is allowed to stand in shocks for any
length of time, large losses are occasioned by the Mice. The amount
of food consumed by a single individual is of course comparatively
insignificant, but that required to sustain the total number inhabiting
a given district is not to be ignored. And when it is borne in mind
that the food of this species consists almost exclusively of the produce
of the agriculturist, the fact becomes evident that the animal is a
source of continuous pecuniary loss to the farmer. Omitting reference
to the years when the species is present in excessive numbers, it is a low
estimate to say that twenty-five Mice live upon every acre of meadow
land. Hence the total number present upon an ordinarily productive
farm of two hundred acres would not be less than five thousand.
Now suppose that the owner of a farm of this size should capture and
keep in confinement five thousand Meadow Mice, feeding them upon
their natural food, grain and the roots of grass. Would it be strange
if, in the course of a few months, he should become so alarmed at
the cost in dollars and cents, of keeping such a host of these ravenous
creatures that he should have them all put to death? And yet, our
farmers not only look on in stolid indifference while their property
and the fruits of their labors suffer, from this source, annual losses
which they can ill afford to bear, but they even help the Mice to in-
crease in numbers and maintain supremacy over their fields! This
they do in several ways, chiefly by neglecting measures for the rid-
dance of the Mice, and, what is of vastly more consequence, by en-

couraging the destruction of those birds and mammals that habitually

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 5 ot,

prey upon Mice. Pre-eminent among these may be mentioned the
marsh and rough-legged hawks, all the smaller hawks and owls, the
shrike, the skunk, and the weasels. Thus the farmer in his short-
sightedness omits no opportunity to deprive himself of nature’s means
of holding in check the vermin that ruin his crops.

When a field is overrun by Meadow Mice, immense numbers of
them may be captured in narrow trenches, a spade’s breadth in width,
and a foot and a half (457 mm.) in depth. The trenches should be
a trifle wider at the bottom than at the top.. Into these the Mice
tumble, without being able to escape.

The Meadow Mouse is exceedingly prolific, giving birth to from
four to eight young at a time, and having several litters in a season.
In early spring its nests are generally made just beneath the surface,
but after the grass has attained a little height they are usually placed

in slight depressions directly on the ground.

FIBER ZIBETHICUS (linn.) Cuvier.

Muskrat ; Musquash.

Colonies of Muskrats may be found at suitable ponds, swamps,
and sluggish streams in all parts of the Adirondacks.

These animals are in the main herbivorous, subsisting chiefly upon
the roots of marsh grasses and aquatic plants. Still, they occasional-
ly prey upon fish, and sometimes manifest evidences of cannibalism,
devouring those of their own kind that are found dead or wounded
and unable to escape. They are extremely fond of the fresh-water
mussels (U/xzzo and Anodon) and large quantities of empty shells may
often be found near their homes.

Although the Muskrat and the beaver are the most strictly aquatic
of all our mammals, the former not infrequently, in autumn, visits
orchards in the neighborhood of water-courses to feed upon the apples
that have fallen to the ground; and I have known it to follow up

drains and enter the cellars of inhabited houses, and to attack the

178 MAMMALIA.

potatoes, carrots, turnips, parsnips, and other vegetables stored there.
Not many years ago an aged couple lived alone in an old house in
the town of Leyden, in Lewis County. They were at one time very
much annoyed by curious sounds that were heard every night, and
sometimes by day as well, and which seemed to come from beneath
the floor near the open fire-place. Having determined at length to
investigate the source of these mysterious noises, the aged pair com-
menced by removing some of the hearth bricks that covered the very
spot whence the sound usually came. Imagine their astonishment
to find here two full-grown living Muskrats! The luckless beasts
were lifted out with the old iron tongs and slain upon the spot.

The Muskrat, though chiefly nocturnal, is frequently seen swimming
and feeding about the borders of ponds and streams in the day-time,
particularly in cloudy weather. And when resting on the edge of a
bog it so resembles a lump of mud as to escape the notice of those
unacquainted with its habits. The distance that it can swim under
water without coming to the surface to breathe is remarkable.

Its homes are of two principal kinds: huts and burrows. The
latter are always present and may be inhabited at all times of the
year, while the huts are for winter use and are confined to certain
more or less restricted localities. :

The burrows are excavated in the shores of the water-courses
which the animals inhabit. The entrance is under water, the burrow
thence sloping upward into the bank a distance of ten or fifteen feet
(3 to 43 metres) to an air-chamber eighteen inches (about half a
metre) or more in diameter, which often contains anest. There may
be several passages leading to this nest, all of which are under water
the greater part of the year. The roof of the air-chamber is generally
so near the surface of the ground that it frequently falls in, particularly
in pastures where cattle abound. Leading away from it, one or
more galleries commonly extend back a considerable distance, keep-
ing so near the surface that their occasional “ caving in” may result

in extensive damage to the fields of the farmer. When the animal

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 179

takes up its abode near dykes or dams, its perforations are liable to
do great mischief.

{n moving about on their feeding grounds Muskrats are in the
habit of travelling along the same paths till they become deeply worn
channels. Steel traps properly concealed in these runways are
almost certain to capture-the first animal that passes.

In places where the water is from two to six feet deep the Musk-
rat, in the fall of the year, sometimes collects and heaps together a
large quantity of aquatic and marsh plants, the resulting mass taking
a shape not unlike that of a “ haycock,” though commonly far less
symmetrical. This accumulation of vegetation, with more or less
adhering mud,* is called a Muskrat “hut” or “house.” It varies
greatly in size, those placed in water occasionally attaining extraordi-
nary dimensions. The summit of the structure is commonly high
enough out of water to admit of an air-chamber within, which com-
municates with the outside world by means of a hole through the
centre of the mass, the entrance or entrances being under water.
Many of the houses contain no mud or sticks, but consist wholly of
balls and knots of roots and swamp grasses. It seems clear that the
animals make no attempt to construct a dwelling of any particular
shape, but merely heap the materials together without plan or order,
the resulting mound naturally assuming, in a general way, the form
of a flattened cone. Insome cases the summit is quite dome-shaped,
but I am convinced that this is purely the result of accident, for
their upper parts are usually very irregular. The materials of which
the hut is composed, it will be observed, are such as serve as food
for the animals during the long winters; hence the Muskrat’s house
is, in reality, a store-house, which he devours piecemeal as the winter

advances! The one structure supplies both the food itself, and the

-& T have never seen a Muskrat house that was built of mud, or that even consisted largely of this
material; but they must occur in certain localities, for no less trustworthy an authority than Sir
John Richardson wrote: ‘‘In the autumn, before the shallow lakes and swamps freeze over, the
Musquash builds its house of mud, giving it a conical form, and a sufficient base to raise the
chamber above the level of the water.’” (Fauna Boreali Americana, Vol. I, 1829, p. £17.)

180 MAMMALIA,

shelter in which it is eaten. It is quite a conspicuous object, the
summit projecting above the water or ice, and is therefore most
commonly found in places that are a little out of the beaten paths of
man. During the fall and winter, Muskrats speedily repair injuries
done to their houses. This habit is put to advantage by the trapper,
who, chopping a hole in the side of the hut and placing a trap in the
breach, often secures the entire family in the course of a few days.
The above remarks apply to the highest type of Muskrat architecture.
There are many less perfect, and at the same time less conspicuous
forms of these store-houses, that are to be met with in almost every
locality where the species exists in any numbers. Along the borders
of ponds and sluggish streams there often stand old hollow stumps
whose roots extend out under the water. Such stumps will frequently
be found, as cold weather approaches, stuffed full of the wads of grass
that are used in hut building, the angles and crevices between the
roots being packed with the same material. Advantage is also taken
of other inconspicuous places in which to deposit food, and some-
times, where there is no current, floating hoards of grass and roots
are established—veritable floating islands in miniature—in the
vicinity of their huts. When the ice is not too thick they generally
keep open a few breathing holes at certain favorite feeding grounds
in very shallow water, frequently covering them over with grass.
My observation that the Muskrat, in the North, habitually lays up
provisions for winter's use does not accord with the statements of
others, the only allusion to such a habit that I have seen being con-
tained in the following very interesting narrative from Audubon and
Bachman (who, by the way, evidently considered it as exceptional) :—
« An acquaintance who had a garden in the neighborhood of a
meadow which contained a large number of Musk-Rats, sent one day,
to enquire whether we could aid in discovering the robbers who
carried off almost every night a quantity of turnips. We were sur-
prised to find on examining the premises, that the garden had been
plundered and nearly ruined by these Rats. There were paths ex-

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 181

tending from the muddy banks of the stream, winding among the
rank weeds and grasses, passing through the old worm fence, and
leading to the various beds of vegetables. Many of the turnips had
disappeared on the previous night—the duck-like tracks of the Musk-
Rat were seen on the beds in every direction. The paths were
strewn with turnip ieaves, which either had dropped, or were bitten
off, to render the transportation more convenient. Their paths after
entering the meadow diverged to several burrows, all of which gave
evidence that their tenants had been on a foraging expedition on the
previous night. The most convenient burrow was opened, and we
discovered in the nest so many different articles of food, that we
were for some time under an impression, that like the chipping squir-
rel, chickaree, &c., this species laid up in autumn a store of food for
winter use. There were carrots, and parsnips, which appeared to
have been cut in halves, the lower part of the root having been left
in the ground; but what struck us as most singular, was that ears of
corn (maize) not yet quite ripe, had been dragged into the burrow,
with a considerable portion of the stock attached.” *

As has already been remarked, the Muskrat is exceedingly fond of
our common fresh-water mussels, and it is usual to find large num-
bers of their empty but unbroken shells strewn along the shore, or
in shallow water covering the mud or sand bottoms where it abounds.
Instead of devouring the mussels where he finds them, the Musk-
rat often carries them to particular spots, where large accumulations
of their shells may be found.

In the course of their remarks upon the habits of this species,
Audubon and Bachman relate an experience that is as interesting and
remarkable as it seems to be unique: “It is a well-known fact that many
species of quadrupeds and birds, are endowed by Nature with the
faculty of foreseeing or foreknowing, the changes of the seasons, and
have premonitions of the coming storm. . . . After an unusual

drought, succeeded by a warm Indian-summer, as we were one day

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, pp. 118-1109.

182 MAMMALIA.

passing near a mill-pond, inhabited by some families of Musk-Rats,
we observed numbers of them swimming about in every direction,
carrying mouthfuls of withered grasses, and building their huts higher
on the land than any we had seen before. We had scarcely ever
observed them in this locality in the middle of the day, and then only
for a moment as they swam from one side of the pond to the other ;
but now they seemed bent on preparing for some approaching event,
and the successive reports of several guns fired by some hunters,
only produced a pause in their operations for five or ten minutes.
Although the day was bright and fair, on that very night there fell
torrents of rain succeeded by an unusual freshet, and intensely cold
weather.” *

Spearing the Muskrat in their huts, in the early winter, is an ex-
citing and sometimes profitable occupation. The best account of
this mode of hunting which I have seen is from the pen of Henry
Thacker, who thus graphically describes his excursions to a large
marsh in the vicinity of Chicago in the winter of 1844-45 :—

“With feelings of interest and excitement, I marched up toa large
house very cautiously (for, with the least jar or crack of the ice,
away goes your game), and, with uplifted spear, made ready for a
thrust. I hesitated. There was a difficulty I had not taken into
account; I knew not where to strike. The chances of missing the
game were apparent, but there was no time to be lost; so bang!
went the spear into a hard, frozen mass, penetrating it not more than
three or four inches, and away went the game in every direction.
With feelings of some chagrin | withdrew my spear, and began feel-
ing about for a more vulnerable spot, which I was not long in de-
tecting. It being a cold, freezing day, I discovered an accumulation
of white frost on a certain spot of the house, and putting my spear
on the place I found it readily entered. The mystery was solved at
once ; this frost on the outside of the house was caused by the breath

and heat of the animals immediately beneath it, and it was generally

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, pp. 122-123.

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 183

on the southeast side of the centre of the house, this being the
warmest side. Acting on these discoveries, I made another trial, and
was successful ; and now the sport began in good earnest. When-
ever I made a thrust, I would cut a hole through the wall of the house
with my hatchet, and take out the game, close up the hole, and start
for another house. The remaining members of the family would
soon return, and immediately set about repairing the breach. |
sometimes succeeded in pinning two rats at one thrust. I also be-
came quite expert in taking the game in another way, as follows :
Whenever I made an unsuccessful thrust into a house, the rats would
dive into the water through their paths or run-ways, and disappear in
all directions. I now found I could easily drive my one tined spear
through the ice two inches thick, and pin a rat with considerable
certainty, which very much increased the sport, and I was not long
in securing a pile of fifteen or twenty rats.

‘Here I made a discovery of what, until now, had been a mystery
to me, namely, how a muskrat managed to remain so long a time in
the water under the ice without drowning. The muskrat, I perceiv-
ed, on leaving his house inhaled a full breath, and would then stay
under water as long as he could without breathing ; when he would
rise up with his nose against the ice, and breathe out his breath,
which seemed to displace the water, forming a bubble. I could dis-
tinctly see him breathe his bubble in and out several times, and then
dive again. In this way I have chased them about under the ice for
some time before capturing them.

“As I frequently speared the muskrat on his feeding-bed, and
subsequently found it to be the best and surest place to set a trap for
him, I will, for the benefit of the novice, undertake to describe one
as found in the marshes. A feeding-bed is a place where the musk-
rat goes to feed, generally at night, and is frequently many rods from
his house. Here he selects a place where his food is convenient,
and by the aid of the refuse material of the roots, &c., which he

carries here for food, he elevates himself partly out of water, in a sort

184 MAMMALIA,

of hut. Here he sits and eats his food, and at the slightest noise, or
least appearance of danger, disappears in an instant under water. In
the winter these feeding-places are readily discovered by a bunch of
wadded grass, flag, or some other material, about the size of a man’s
hat, protruding above the ice This little mound is hollow, and is
only large enough for a single rat, where he sits and eats his food,
with his lower parts in the water. When the rats were disturbed in
their house, I found they generally fled to these feeding-huts, where
they were almost a certain mark for the spearman.

“In my next excursion, not many days after, to the same place, I
had still better success. As the ice had now become too thick to be
easily penetrated by my spear, I adopted, in part, a different mode
of taking the game. This time I carried with me, in addition to my
spear, two dozen steel-traps, and a bundle of willow sticks (cut on
the way) about three feet long. On arriving at the hunting grounds
I prepared myself for the day’s sport by putting on my mufflers, and
with traps and willow sticks slung upon my back, began the work by
driving my spear into the first house I came to. I could not now
see the rats as they fled from the house, on account of the thickness
of the ice and a slight snow that lay upon it. Consequently the sport
of spearing them through the ice was cut off. But as often as I had
occasion to cut through the walls of the house to take out my game,
I set a steel-trap in the nest, slipped a willow stick through the ring
of the chain, laid it across the hole, slightly stopped it up, and then
passed on to the next house ; and so on, until my traps were all gone.
I then started back to the place of beginning, driving my spear into
every feeding-hut in my course, and killing many rats. Finally, I
began going over the ground again, first driving my spear into a
house, then examining the trap, taking out the game and re-setting
the trap. In this course I was quite successful. I found by setting
the trap in the right place, near the edge, and a little under the water,
I was almost certain to take the first rat that returned. In making

two or three rounds in this way, I found the rats became somewhat

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 185

disturbed, and sought temporary shelter elsewhere ; when I would
move to a new place, giving them time to recover from their fright.” *

That the Muskrat was at one time a very important article of com-
merce is evident from the fact that Dr. Richardson, in writing of it
in 1829, stated: ‘“‘ Between four and five hundred thousand skins are
annually imported into Great Britain from North America.” + And
even at the present day several thousand are killed each year in the
United States alone. It is probable that no other North American
mammal is so extensively trapped by the rural small boy. This is
due to the great abundance of the species, even in populous districts,
and the ease with which it is trapped, rather than to its value, for
Muskrat pelts have always ranked among the cheaper furs, a single
skin rarely fetching more than fifteen or twenty cents.

The Muskrat is a very prolific animal. It brings forth from five to
nine young at a birth, and is said to raise three litters in a season.
The nest is usually placed in a hole in the bank, at some little distance
from the water, though it is sometimes built in the hut. Robert
Kennicott, in his very valuable paper upon The Quadrupeds of
Illinois, says : “Though the young are generally brought forth in
burrows, they were often found in the houses in the sloughs, only
one female, however, remaining in a house.” { Mr. Thomas S. Rob-
erts thus describes a litter of young that he found near Minneapolis,
Minnesota, May 24th, 1880: ‘“ Upon knocking the top off from a
Muskrat house on the edge of a slough, nine young Muskrats ap-
parently but a day or two old were disclosed. They were hairless
and showed not the least sign of their eyes opening. The nest was
of dry grass and not more than an inch or two above the level of the
water.” §

The noise a Muskrat makes in diving is out of all proportion to its
* The Trapper’s Guide. By S. Newhouse. Published by Oneida Community, Wallingford,
Conn., 1867, pp. 147-150.

+ Fauna Boreali Americana, Vol. I, 1829, p. 118.
¢ Report of the Commissioner of Patents for the year 1856. Agriculture, 1857, p. 108.
§ Forest and Stream, Vol. XIV, No. 22, July 1, 1880, pp. 428-429.

13

186 MAMMALIA.

size, and many a drowsy hunter, while floating for deer, has been
startled by its sudden plunge. A loud report is made by striking
the flat tail against the water.

Dr. Richardson, writing in 1829, said that in the Fur Countries
they were “subject at uncertain intervals to a great mortality from
some unknown cause. Their great fecundity, however, enables them
to recover these losses in a very few years, although the deaths at
times are so numerous, that a fur-post, where the Musquash is the
principal return, is not unfrequently abandoned until they have re-
cruited.”” * Among the foes of the Muskrat may be mentioned the
fox and mink, and the larger hawks and owls; the mink and the
great-horned owl being its greatest enemies.

The flesh of the Muskrat is red and rather flabby ; still it is fair
eating for a time when other meat is unattainable. Thomas Pennant,
whose notions of the causes of things were sometimes strangely
sophistical, mentions that the Muskrat feeds upon the sweet flag, and
then goes on to say: ‘“‘This perhaps gives them that strong musky
smell these animals are so remarkable for; which they lose during
winter, probably when this species of plant is not to be got.” +

Many distinguished naturalists, whose works are still regarded
standard, give meagre and very erroneous accounts of the habits of
the animals they describe. It is stated in the third volume of Griffith's
Cuvier, published in 1827, that Muskrats “ construct in winter, on the
ice, a hut of clay, where they inhabit in great numbers, proceeding
through a hole, to seek at the bottom the roots acorus, on which they
subsist. When the ice closes their holes, they are reduced to feed
upon each other” (p. 67). It is hardly necessary to add that the
above is fallacious in almost every particular.

* Fauna Boreali Americana, Vol. I, 1829, p. 117.

+ Arctic Zoology, Vol. I, 1792, p. 123.

=

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 187

The Muskrat as a Fish-eater.

That the Muskrat is not commonly considered a fish-eater is
evident from the absence of reference to such habit in the published
accounts of the animal. Robert Kennicott and Gov. DeWitt Clinton
are, so far as I have been able to ascertain, the only authors who
mention this trait. Kennicott says: “ Excepting in eating mollusks,
and occasionally a dead fish, I am not aware that this species departs
from a vegetable diet.” *

Gov. Clinton, writing in 1820 of the then newly built Erie Canal,
in New York, said: “In winter, when the water is frozen, muskrats
go under the ice and prey on the fish. They are very destructive to
trout, which is already in the canal.” +

At a meeting of the Biological Society of Washington, held in the
National Museum, December 14th, 1883, Mr. Henry W. Elliott
spoke of the “ Appetite of the Muskrat.” He stated that in certain
parts of Ohio the Muskrat did great injury to Carp ponds, not only
by perforating the banks and dams and thus letting off the water, but
also by actually capturing and devouring the Carp, which is a sluggish
fish, often remaining motionless, half buried in the mud. In the dis-
cussion that followed, Dr. Mason Graham Ellzey said that from boy-
hood he had been familiar with the fact that the Muskrat sometimes
ate fish. In fact, he had seen Muskrats in the act of devouring fish
that had recently been caught and left upon the bank. The President,
Dr. Charles A. White, narrated a similar experience.

On the 7th of February, 1884, I brought this subject to the notice
of the Linnzean Society of New York, and asked if any of the mem-
bers knew the Muskrat to be a fish-eater. Dr. Edgar A. Mearns
said that he had long been familiar with the fact, and that it was no
uncommon thing to sce a Muskrat munching a dead fish upon the
borders of the salt marshes along the Hudson. He had shot them

* Quadrupeds of Illinois Injurious and Beneficial to the Farmer, 1857, p. 106.

+ Letters on the Natural History and Internal Resources of the State of New York. By
Hibernicus, 1822, p. 46.

188 MAMMALIA.

while so engaged. He further stated that the Muskrat is very de-
structive to nets, destroying the fishermen’s fykes by scores, by
entering them in quest of fishes and then tearing the nets in order
to escape.

Dr. A. K. Fisher said that at Sing Sing, New York, he had often
known Muskrats to enter fykes, sometimes drowning, but oftener
escaping by gnawing the meshes, thus doing considerable injury to
the nets. He supposed they entered the nets because placed in
their line of travel. He further stated that he knew that fykes made
of fine wire were used with success in capturing these animals.

Mr. Wm. H. Dall, the well-known Alaskan explorer, now of the
Coast Survey, in response to inquiry has kindly favored me with the
following: “In 1863, I visited Kankakee, Illinois, on a collecting
tour for river mollusks, in July. You know how the Muskrats throw
up mounds of the shells they dig out. I examined many of these
for Unios, etc. On several I saw the skeletons of fish (chiefly suck-
ers I believe) partly or wholly denuded of their flesh, and showing
the marks of Muskrat (or at least rodent) teeth. I also saw the shell
of acommon mud turtle, so gnawed and in the same situation. I
did not see the animal in the act of feasting, which I believe is chiefly
done at night, but I have no doubt that the fish and turtle were eaten
by the Muskrat, as well as the mollusks associated with them in the
same pile.”

Under date of March 5th, 1884, I have received from Dr. Fisher,
the most valuable record yet obtained concerning the habit in ques-
tion. Dr. Fisher writes: “A few days since, two young men were
fishing through the ice for pickerel, with live bait, at Croton Lake,
Westchester County, N. Y. Several times they were troubled by
having one of the lines pulled violently off the bush and run out to
its full length. Finally they saw the line start again, and by pulling
it up quickly they landed a large Muskrat on the ice.” Here is an

authentic instance where a Muskrat has actually captured a live fish

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. 189

in the water. Fortunately, the fish was attached to a hook and line,
and the Muskrat was caught and killed.

The above facts, which were published in /orest and Stream of
March 27th and April 3d, 1884, fell under the eye of Mr. E W.
Nelson, late Signal Observer at St. Michzls, Alaska, and elicited
from him the following additional testimony : ‘“ The Muskrat is the
most abundant mammal to be found in all the marshy parts of Alaska,
south of the Arctic circle at least, and during my residence in that
country I had frequent opportunity to learn of its fondness for fish.
Often when skirting the border of a pool or following the edge of
some sluggish stream in the evening or during the dim light of the
Arctic nights in summer, I frightened the Muskrats from the body of
dead fish on the bank at the water's edge. The fish were usually
small sluggish species and such as could have been easily caught by
the animal itself, although it feeds upon fish not killed by itself.
That the Muskrat will feed upon dead water fowl I have also had
frequent occasion to notice.” *

Mr. Charles F. Carr writes me that in Wolf River, Wisconsin,
twelve or fifteen years ago, Muskrats were in the habit of eating fish

from a gill net set there by a man named Rich.

Ferocious Tendenctes of the Muskrat.

Under the above heading Mr. W. H. Ballou, in the American
Naturalist for July, 1880, narrates the following very unusual expe-
rience: ‘I was sauntering along a prairie road just out of Boone,
Iowa, one night during the past winter. There was no snow on the
ground and the moon was just glimmering through the clouds. Of
a sudden I was startled by the appearance of some animal from the
long grass by the wayside, which dashed up my leg. I knocked
it off, picked up a frozen piece of mud and broke its leg. Again it
made a rush for me, and another piece of mud sent it rolling over.

* Forest and Stream, Vol. XXII, No, 15, May 8, 1884, p. 285.

190 MAMMALIA.

I took hold of its tail during this little scene, and ended the matter
by giving its head a severe bump on the ground. When I had ac-
cess to more light I found that it was a full-grown Muskrat of enor-
mous size. I can neither account for its attack nor appearance there.
The previous summer season had dried up all the sloughs and there
was no water in the vicinity. The houses of these animals had been
deserted for some time previous, and nowhere on the prairies had I
been able to find one with any inhabitants (they build in the sloughs
of western prairies extensively). Alone and well away from its most
natural element it had attacked me without provocation. The mat-
ter led to an inquiry among the farmers. The general statement
was to the effect that considerable fun and some trouble was had with
this species during each hay time, as they did not hesitate, when out
of the water, to ferociously attack man or beast, with seldom any
damage. One man related, however, that he received a severe bite
in the hand from one of them, which laid him up for some time. _ It
is either very courageous or very luny.” * z

The most remarkable foray of this kind which has come to my
knowledge occurred in the city of Charlotte, North Carolina, during
the evening of March 17th, 1884. It is thus recorded in the Char-
lotte Observer of March 18th: ‘Charlie Fox’s adventure with a pack
of Muskrats on Trade street one night about a year ago, was brought
vividly to mind last night when several runners came into the Ob-
server office bringing tidings of three sanguinary battles fought be-
tween citizens who had encountered bodies of the savage Wusguash
in the streets. It appears that all these fights occurred at 8 o'clock.
Mr. John Davidson was going home about that hour when he was
encountered at the corner of Tyron and Fifth streets, by a large and
ferocious rat, which he finally killed with a stick. He sent his fallen
foe to the Odserver office for inspection. It was almost as large asa
‘possum. When this fight was going on there was a lively scene on
Trade street, opposite the mint, where the Muskrats fairly swarmed.

* The American Naturalist, July. 1880, Vol. XIV, No. 7, p. 524.

FIBER ZIBETHICUS. IQI

Mr. Martin McRae, a clerk of T. L. Seigle & Co, was set upon by
seven of the ‘ varmints’ and was put to flight, not having any weap-
ons with which to defend himself. Shortly afterwards, Larkin
Saddler, the Odserver’s janitor, passed by and about twenty of the
rats began biting at his legs. Larkin kicked about for dear life and
finally got one rat under his foot and crushed it to death. Their
sharp teeth began perforating his hide, and jumping over the fence
he fled across the mint yard and got away from them. John
Smith, colored, an employee of the Air Line road, came along
next, and seeing the curious pack that beset his ankles, uttered a
terrific yell and fled at the top of his speed. Wm. Norman, a col-
ored employee of Duls & Co., was the next victim. He hada stick
and giving the Muskrats battle killed one of their number and put
the others to flight.

“This is the second annual appearance of these savage pests
upon our streets. Where do they come from and who can account
for their appearance in our city in such numbers? One theory is
that they come from Irwin’s creek, making their way up the ceme-
tery branch to the flats below the First Presbyterian church and
thence to the streets of the city. It is very nearly opposite the
mint that Charlie Fox was attacked by the rats last year.”

Mr. Ernest E. T. Seton, of Manitoba, writes me that, September
13th, 1883, near Carberry, he found a Muskrat in a field of stand-
ing wheat a mile and a half from water. The animal showed fight
and was captured alive. Mr. Seton writes further: ‘‘ While
travelling on the Rapid City trail in Manitoba, October 2d, 1883,
the oxen suddenly shied and turned off the road. Then I saw just
ahead what proved to be a Muskrat! It was in a threatening
attitude and sprang toward the nose of one of the cattle. On run-
ning to it, it seized my trousers in its teeth and held on. When
kicked off it did not attempt to escape, but fought until killed. It

was a male.”

192 MAMMALIA.
Family ZAPODID.

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS (Zimm.) Coues.
Fumping Mouse; Labrador Mouse.

The Jumping Mouse is common in many parts of the Adiron-
dacks, as well as in the surrounding country. It feeds upon
beechnuts, and various seeds and berries.

Within the Wilderness it is most often observed in the tangled
borders of low shrubs that surround the lakes and beaver meadows;
while beyond the confines of the region it inhabits both the clear-
ings and woodlands. It delights in grain fields, and in meadows
of tall waving grass, where it finds abundant food and can readily
escape its most active enemies. But when the time for haying and
harvesting arrives, the Mice are suddenly deprived of their accus-
tomed shelter and many seek protection beneath the haycocks and
stacks of grain. By quickly overturning these, they are confused
and frightened and may be captured with comparative ease.

When stationed to watch for deer, on the borders of our Adi-
rondack lakes, I have often remained in one place during the
greater part of the day. Seated, sometimes on a log that crossed
a narrow belt of marsh along the shore, sometimes on the mossy
slope of a well-wooded knoll hard by, and hidden by the dense
frontage of undershrubs, or by the more open shelter of ‘a slender
tamarack, I have learned much that fills these pages. Encroaching
upon the very water’s edge is a net-work of wiry bushes, repelling
the canoe that attempts to land. It consists chiefly of the leather
leaf (Cassandra calyculata) and sweet gale (AZyrzca gale), with
smaller quantities of the wild rosemary (Axdromeda foltfolia),
meadow sweet (Sfzrea salictfolia), and swamp laurel (Kalmza
glauca). Adjoining this is a strip of sphagnous bog which supports
a luxuriant growth of the curious pitcher plant, interspersed with
straggling cranberries. Careful search may reveal the insect-eat-

ing Drosera, as well as several rare species of orchids. Where the

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS, 193

sloping hill-side meets the marsh, another miniature thicket bars
the way. Like the first, it is largely made up of the tough Cas-
sandra, which here intertwines with Labrador tea (Ledum latzfole-
um), sheep laurel (Kalmza angustifolia), and winterberry (/lex
levigata). The beautiful Azalea and the woolly steeple bush
(Spzrea tomentosa) are also usually present, while several species
of Veburnum and Cornus contribute their share to the”prominent
features of the local flora.

While silently seated in the midst of these surroundings, I have
on more than one occasion observed the Jumping Mouse. Some-
times he has crept quietly over the bog, winding his way amongst
the pitcher plants and low clumps of matted bushes, presenting
much the appearance of the white-footed mouse. At other times he
has bounded lightly by, clearing the tops of the bushes with every
leap, and disappearing so quickly that his identity was with diff-
culty determined. Indeed, when he hides after the first or second
leap he is not rarely mistaken for the wood frog (Rana temporaria
sylvatica), which he resembles in color.

The agility of these animals is almost incredible. I have re-
peatedly known them to clear a distance of more than ten feet (a
trifle over 3 metres) at a single bound, and their leaps are made
in such rapid succession that their feet seem barely to touch the
ground. To attempt to catch one when any covert is near is a
hopeless task.

The Jumping Mouse is said, by most writers, to be strictly noc-
turnal, but this is not the case. It is crepuscular, like the ma-
jority of our mammalia, and is also not infrequently seen abroad
by day.

It nests in a variety of situations: sometimes in hollow stumps
and trees, which it is said to climb from the inside; more often
under logs and rails, and in piles of rubbish; frequently in crevi-
ces of rocky ledges; and occasionally in open fields, a short dis-
tance under the surface.

194 MAMMALIA.

Since the foregoing was written, Mr. Elisha Slade, of Somerset,
Bristol County, Massachusetts, has favored me with a very in-
teresting and detailed account of the habits of this species, portions
of which are here reproduced. Mr. Slade says: ‘ The Long-tailed
Jumping Mouse inhabits high land or low land, forest or pasture,
cultivated field or swamp, and appears to be equally at home in
either, and not numerous in any situation. It possesses a momen-
tary agility second to no other Rodent, and a muscular strength
of enormous power for so small a creature. When suddenly dis-
turbed it often moves away in a direct line, the first three or four
leaps being eight or ten feet in length; but these distances rapidly
decline to about four feet, which are continued until it considers
itself out of danger. This is not always the case, however, for it
frequently takes an irregular course and jumps at diverse angles
for several successive leaps, keeping the same general direction or
changing at will. It can double, and quickly too, if pursued, and
by its manceuvers and instantaneous squattings can, and often does,
elude a hawk or an owl; and its spontaneous irregularities enable
it to escape being brained by a weasel, or swallowed whole by the
common black snake. . . . It feeds upon the buds, leaves, and
twigs, of many kinds of plants; upon seeds, grain, wild berries,
chestnuts, acorns, grass, and to some extent upon the bark of
shrubs. . . . Asarule, three litters are produced in a season,
each consisting of from two to four young.”

Barton, writing of this species in 1795, says: ‘“‘ Upon showing
my drawing of the animal to an intelligent Indian who is settled at
Oneida, he assured me that the same animal is very common at
that place. This Indian, who is a Mohegan, moreover said, that
in his language this Dipus is called Wauh peh Sous, which signifies
the creature that jumps or skips like a deer.” He also says : ‘ie
often gets into the graneries of the Indians settled at Oneida, in
the State of New York, and proves very destructive to the Indian-
corn. . . . I have not learned, with certainty, at what time

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS. 195

this animal brings forth its young. But it has been seen leaping
about with the young ones strongly attached to its teats. Four
young ones have been seen thus attached.” |

Dr. DeKay says that Mr. Jesse Booth, of Orange County, New
York, writes him: “ In cross-plowing some years since, my atten-
tion was taken up by seeing some small thing move off from near
my plough, at about the moderate walk of a man. It went over
ridges and descended the hollows of the furrows, bearing some re-
semblance to an old withered oak leaf. I pursued it, when it
proved to be one of these wood-mzce, or jumping mice ; a female,

with four young ones attached by their mouths to its teats.” *

The Hibernation of the Fumping Mouse.

Dr. Benjamin Smith Barton, of Philadelphia, was the first to
make known the fact that the Jumping Mouse hibernates. On
the 2d of October, 1795, he read a paper before the American
Philosophical Society (which was not published, however, till 1799)
in which he states: “In the month of February, one of these
animals was found, seemingly in a torpid-state, under a stone, in
opening a quarry.” He further says, that a farmer, living near
Philadelphia, has often discovered them, “ at the depth of eighteen
inches or two feet under ground, when he has been digging for the
roots of horse-radish and parsley, in the winter-time.”+ In a
supplement to this article, published in 1804, the same author
observes :—

“In the month of August, 1796, one of these little animals was
brought to me from the vicinity of this city. It was put into a
large glass jar, where I was so fortunate as to preserve it for near

four months. Though it made many efforts to escape from its

* Zoology of New York, Part I, 1842, p. 72.

+ Some account of an American Species of Dipus, or Jerboa. By Benjamin Smith Barton, M. D.
Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. IV, No. XII, 1799, p. 122. Barton
again refers to the hibernation of this species in his Fragments of the Natural History of Pennsyl-
vania, 1799, pp- Xii, xiil.

196 MAMMALIA.

confinement, it seemed, upon the whole, pretty well reconciled to it.
It continued active, and both ate and drank abundantly. I fed it
upon bread, the grain of Indian corn (Zea Mays), and the berries
of the Prinos verticillatus, sometimes called black-alder.

“On or about the 22d of November, it passed into the torpid
state. It is curious to observe, that at the time it became torpid,
the weather was unusually mild for the season of the year, and
moreover the animal was kept in a warm room, in which there was
a large fire the greater part of the day and night. I sometimes
roused it from its torpid state ; at other times it came spontaneously
out of it. During the intervals of its waking, it both ate and
drank. It was frequently most active, while the weather was ex-
tremely cold in December ; but when I| placed the jar upon a thick
cake of ice, in the open air, its movements or activity seemed
wholly directed to the making of a comfortable habitation out of
the hay with which I supplied it. It was sufficiently evident, how-
ever, that the cold was not the only cause of its torpid state. It
was finally killed by the application of too great a degree of heat
to it, whilst in its torpor.

“During its torpor, it commonly laid with its head between its
hind legs, with the claws or feet of these closely applied to the
head. Its respiration could always be perceived, but was very
slow.

“The fact of the torpidity of this little animal is known to the
gardeners and others near the city. They call it the ‘seven
sleepers,’ and assert, that it is frequently found in the earth, at
the lower extremity of the horse-radish, and other perpendicular
roots. Does it use these as a measure of the distance to which it
shall go in the earth, to avoid the influence of the frost ?

“T have said, that the Dipus Americanus becomes torpid in the
neighborhood of this city. But this, I believe, is not always the
case. During the winter-season, this little animal and another

species, which I call Dipus mellivorus, take possession of the

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS. 197

hives of bees, in which they form for themselves, a warm and com-
fortable habitation, having ingeniously scooped away some wax.
The materials of its nest are fine dry grass, down of feathers, and
old rags. It lives upon the honey, and seems to grow very fat
upon it. I believe two individuals, a male and a female, commonly
inhabit one hive. They sometimes devour the greater part of the
honey of a hive.

‘The circumstance just mentioned is not altogether uninterest-
ing. It plainly proves what I have, long since, asserted, that the
torpid state of animals is altogether ‘an accidental circumstance,’
and by no means constitutes a specific character. The same
species becomes torpid in one country and not in another. Nay,
different individuals of the same species become torpid, or continue
awake, in the same neighborhood, and even on the same farm.” *

On the 6th of June, 1797, Major-General Thomas Davies pre-
sented, before the Linnzan Society of London, “An account of the
Jumping Mouse of Canada,” which he supposed to be an unde-
scribed species. This account was published in the Linnzan
Transactions for 1798. Hence, though not read till more than a
year and a half after Dr. Barton had presented his paper before
the American Philosophical Society, it appeared in print before the
- publication of the latter.

General Davies gives a figure of the animal in the dormant state,
observing that the specimen “was found by some workmen, in
digging the foundation for a summer house, in a gentleman’s
garden about two miles from Quebec, in the latter end of May,
1787. It was discovered enclosed in a ball of clay, about the size
of a cricket ball, nearly an inch in thickness, perfectly smooth
within, and about twenty inches under ground. The man who
first discovered it, not knowing what it was, struck the ball with
his spade, by which means it was broken to pieces, or the ball also
would have been presented to me. The drawing will perfectly

* Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. VI, 1804, pp. 143-144.

198 MAMMALIA.

show, how the animal is laid during its dormant state. How long
it had been under ground, it is impossible to say; but as I never
could observe these animals in any part of the country after the
beginning of September, I conceive they lay themselves up some
time in that month, or beginning of October, when the frost be-
comes sharp; nor did I ever see them again before the last week
in May, or beginning of June. From their being enveloped in
balls of clay, without any appearance of food, I conceive they sleep
during the Winter, and remain for that term without sustenance.”

In the third volume of Griffith’s Cuvier, published in 1827, it is
stated: “One single species, the Gerdzl/us of Canada, has been
found in a state of hibernation” (p. 154). And again: “In the
winter it retires and falls asleep, rolled up like a ball, in a burrow
about twenty inches deep. It places itself then in a sort of little
chamber, of an oval form, and never stirs until the middle of spring.
No provision is found in this retreat, nor is it exactly known on
what substances it feeds” (p. 159).

Godman says: ‘“‘ At the commencement of cool weather, or about
the time the frost sets in, the jumping mice go into their winter
quarters, where they remain in a torpid state until the last of May
or first of June.” * Zadock Thompson also tells us that “they
pass the winter in a torpid state and are not usually out in the
spring before June.” +

Is it not surprising, in the face of the evidence above narrated, {
that Audubon and Bachman should have given utterance to the
following : “ It is generally believed, that the Jumping Mouse, like
the Hampster of Europe, (Crzcetus vulgaris), and the Marmots,
(Arctomys), hibernates, and passes the winter in a profound lethar-

* American Natural History, Vol. I, 1842, p. 322.

+ Natural and Civil History of Vermont, 1842, p. 44.

+t The statement in Griffith’s Cuvier was unquestionably based upon General Davies’ article, and
it is probable that both Godman and Thompson derived their information from the same source.
But even in this case there remain the two original, independent, and almost.simultaneous accounts
(those of Barton and Davies), the trustworthiness of which cannot be called in question.

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS. 199

gy. Although we made some efforts many years ago, to place this
matter beyond a doubt by personal observation, we regret that our
residence, being in a region where this species does not exist, no
favorable opportunity has since been afforded us. Naturalists
residing in the Northern and Middle States could easily solve the
whole matter, by preserving the animal in confinement through the
winter.” *

If, in Audubon’s time, there were grounds for questioning that
this species hibernates, there are none at present. Robert Kenni-
cott, in his valuable contribution to economic agriculture, states :
“Dr. Hoy informs me that, when he was a boy in digging out a
rabbit in winter, he found a pair of this species in a state of pro-
found torpor, exhibiting all the phenomena of perfect hibernation.
They were in a large nest of leaves situated two or three feet be-
low the surface.” +

In the American Naturalist for June, 1872 (Vol. VI, No. 6, pp.
330-332), the late Professor Sanborn Tenney published an article
entitled “ Hibernation of the Jumping Mouse.” Without referring
to a single published record or opinion, he narrates a personal
experience so full of interest that I take pleasure in presenting it
to my readers. Professor Tenney says :—

“On the 18th of January of the present year (1872), I went
with Dr. A. Patton of Vincennes, Indiana, to visit a mound situ-
ated about a mile ora mile anda half in an easterly direction from
Vincennes. While digging in the mound in search of relics that
might throw light upon its origin and history, we came to a nest
about two feet below the surface of the ground, carefully made of
bits of grass, and in this nest was a Jumping Mouse (/acw/us
ffudsontus Baird) apparently dead. It was coiled up as tightly as
it could be, the nose being placed upon the belly, and the long tail
coiled around the ball-like form which the animal had assumed. |

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. II, 1851, p. 355.
+ Patent Office Report for 1856, 1857, p. 97.

200 MAMMALIA.

took the little mouse into my hand. It exhibited no motion or
sign of life. Its eyes and mouth were shut tight, and its little fore
feet or hands were shut and placed close together. Everything
indicated that the mouse was perfectly dead, excepting the fact
that it was not as rigid as perhaps a dead mouse would be in the
winter. I tied the mouse and nest in my. handkerchief and carried
them to Vincennes. Arriving at Dr. Patton’s office I untied my
treasures, and took out the mouse and held it for some time in my
hand; it still exhibited no sign of life; but at length I thought I
saw a very slight movement in one of the hind legs. Presently
there was a very slight movement of the head, yet so feeble that
one could hardly be sure it was real. Then there came to be some
evidence of breathing,
the tail near the body was followed by an immediate but feeble

and a slight pressure of my fingers upon

movement of one of the hind legs. At length there was unmis-
takable evidence that the animal was breathing, but the breathing
was a labored action, and seemingly performed with great diff-
culty. As the mouse became warmer the signs of life became more
and more marked; and in the course of the same afternoon on
which I brought it into the warm room it became perfectly active,
and was as ready to jump about as any other member of its
species.

“T put this mouse into a little tin box with holes in the cover,
and took him with me in my journeyings, taking care to put in the
box a portion of an ear of corn and pieces of paper. It ate the
corn by gnawing from the outside of the kernel, and it gnawed the
paper into bits with which it made a nest. On the fourth day
after its capture I gave it water which it seemed to relish. On the
23d of January, I took it with me to Elgin, Illinois, nearly three
hundred miles farther north than the region where I found the
specimen. The weather was intensely cold. Taking the mouse
from the box, I placed it on a newspaper on a table, and covered
it with a large glass bell, lifting the edge of the glass so as to admit

ZAPUS HUDSONIUS. ZO

a supply of air. Under this glass was placed a good supply of
waste cotton. Soon after it was fairly established in its new and
more commodious quarters, it began to clean every part of its body
in the most thorough manner, washing itself very much in the
same manner as a cat washes. On coming to the tail it passed
that long member, for its whole length, through the mouth from
side to side, beginning near the body and ending at the tip. At
night as soon as the lights were put out the mouse began gnawing

the paper, and during the night it ¢

nawed all the newspaper it
could reach, and made the fragments and the cotton into a large
nest perhaps five or six inches in diameter, and established itself
in the centre. Here it spent the succeeding day. The next night
it was supplied with more paper, and it gnawed all it could reach,
and thus spent a large part of the night in work. I could hear the
work going on when I was awake. In the morning it appeared to
be reposing on the top of its nest; but after watching it for some
time, and seeing no motion, I lifted up the glass and took the
mouse in my hand. It showed no signs of life. I now felt that
perhaps my pet was indeed really dead ; but remembering what I
had previously seen, I resolved to try to restore it again to activity.
By holding it in my hand and thus warming it, the mouse soon
began to show signs of life, and although it was nearly the whole
day in coming back to activity, at last it was as lively as ever, and
afterward, on being set free in the room, it moved about so swiftly
by means of its long leaps, that it required two of us a long time
to capture it uninjured.

“On the evening of February 6th I reached my home in
Williamstown, and on my arrival the mouse was in good condition.
But the next morning it was again apparently dead ; in the course
of the day, however, being placed where it was warm, it gradually
came back to activity as before.”

The statements of Godman and Thompson, that the Jumping

Mouse remains torpid till the last of May or first of June, are
4

202 MAMMALIA.

without weight, because it is very evident that these authors derive
their knowledge from Davies, whose observations were limited to
a single specimen taken near Quebec. Moreover, the fact that a
hibernating animal does not emerge from winter-quarters till June
in the latitude of Quebec, affords no reason for supposing it to
remain dormant till this late date in more southern localities.
Indeed, experience points to a contrary conclusion, as well in the
present as in several other species. On the 11th of February,
1874, I caught an active male at Easthampton, Massachusetts ;
and Mr. Elisha Slade writes me that in the vicinity of his home, at
Somerset, Bristol County, Mass., the animal ‘retires to hollow
trees, stumps, or fissures of rocks, during cold snaps,” and reap-
pears with every return of warm weather. During the winter of
1881-1882, unprecedented for its mildness, I several times ob-
served it in Lewis County, in Northern New York.

Family HYSTRICIDA.

ERETHIZON DORSATUS (lim.) F. Cuvier.

Canada Porcupine.

The Porcupine is a common and well-known resident of all the
wooded parts of the Adirondacks, and is equally abundant in the
lowlands and on the highest mountains.

Of all the mammalian inhabitants of North America, not one
possesses more striking peculiarities. To a person beholding him
for the first time he seems a veritable prodigy. He presents a
combination of positive characters which seem directly contradic-
tory to his known habits of life. He is about twice the size of a
full-grown woodchuck, well-conditioned adults averaging from fif-
teen to twenty pounds in weight. His muzzle is short and blunt,
and his eyes and ears are small—the latter almost concealed in the
bristles of the sides of the head. His neck is short and thick, and
his body is large and chunked. He is very compactly built, and

ERETHIZON DORSATUS. 203

remarkably broad across the back. His legs are short. The soles
of his plantigrade feet are broad and naked, like those of the bear,
and his claws are large, well-curved, and channelled beneath, His
tail is most extraordinary. It is a large, ponderous, and somewhat
four-sided structure, capable of dealing a powerful blow.

The entire upper surface of the animal, from in front of the eyes
to the tip of the tail, the cheeks, sides of the neck, body and tail,
the shoulders, flanks, and hips, are densely covered with thickly-set
stout spines, varying from less than an inch (25.5 mm.) to more
than four and one quarter inches (108 mm.) in length. These
spines or quills, which in a state of rest are directed backward, are
connected at their bases with a layer of muscle by which they may
be erected at will) The mature quills cling so loosely to the skin
that they are easily detached, and their finely barbed tips cause
them to adhere to any animal with which they come in forcible
contact. After having penetrated the skin, the tendency is to ad-
vance, and the muscular action of their victim causes them to
become more and more deeply imbedded. There is no part of the
body to which they may not travel. I have found them in the hind
leg of a fisher, firmly fixed between the tibia and fibula.

The Porcupine, owing to this formidable dermal armature, has
but few enemies. Chief among them, as has already been shown
(Vol. I, pp. 30, and 48-50), are the panther and fisher ; and since
these powerful Carnivores have become rare in the Adirondacks,
the Porcupine has been, and still is, on the increase. He is occa-
sionally attacked by wolves, eagles,* and the great-horned owl.

He is a pretty strict vegetarian, deriving the greater part of his
sustenance from different kinds of browse and bark. Among the
conifers, the hemlock furnishes the most palatable food, for he is
found upon it more often than upon any other evergreen. He

* In Forest and Stream of March 20, 1884 (p. 144), Mr. J. L. Davison, of Lockport, N. Y.,
states that he had recently examined a golden eagle that had been shot at Plessis, Jefferson County,
N.Y. He says: ‘‘ The feet of the eagle were full of porcupine quills, which was probably the
last animal he had dined off, and about as hot a meal as he ever had.”

204 MAMMALIA.

also feeds upon the foliage and twigs of the maple and birch, and
not infrequently comes to the water’s edge to seek the lily-pads
within reach from the bank. He is also partial to the staple com-
modity of the region—the beechnut—and I have killed several
whose stomachs were distended with beechnut-meal.

The Porcupine is more strictly nocturnal than the majority of
our mammals; still, he occasionally ventures abroad in the day-
time. The greater part of his life is spent high in the trees,
though his den is usually concealed in some ledge of rocks. He
is not so active during extreme cold as at other times, but is not
known to hibernate. I have seen fresh tracks * leading to his hole
in a rocky side-hill in January, the thermometer indicating a tem-
perature of —27° C. If ledges are not at hand, he is sometimes
found asleep under an old log or brush-heap, or in a hollow tree.
When he has selected and settled himself in a tree to his liking he
may not leave it, day or night, until he has denuded it of the whole
of itsfoliage. I have seen many hemlocks thus completely stripped,
not a green twig remaining, even on the smallest bough. It seems
incredible that so large and clumsy an animal should be able to
climb out far enough on the branches to reach the terminal leaves ;
but he distributes his weight by bringing several branches together,
and then, with his powerful paws, bends back their ends and passes
them through his mouth. When high in the tree-tops he is often
passed unnoticed, mistaken, if seen at all, for the nest of a crow or
hawk.

He is very fond of salt and frequently comes around camp dur-
ing the night for the purpose of obtaining it. He will eagerly lick
a bag that has contained salt meat, or the dirt where brine has
been spilt. He takes pains to devour all pork and ham rinds that
fall in his way, and, if occasion offers, will gnaw a buttertub or

other wooden receptacle that has contained any saline substance.

* His short legs allow his heavy body to drag in the snow, making even a deeper and broader
rut than the otter. His footprints are nearer together than those of the otter, and are of a different
pattern.

ERETHIZON DORSATUS. 205

His familiarity at such times is surprising, for, while not aggres-
sive, he is by no means timorous, and explores the camp with cool-
ness and determination.

Porcupines have a curious habit of girdling trees, at a height of
from six to thirty feet. The zone from which the bark is removed
varies from a few inches toa foot or more in breadth. The spruce
is more frequently girdled than any other tree, and those of small
diameter more commonly than those of large size.

When feeding on lily-pads along the borders of water-courses
they sometimes utter extraordinary noises, and occasionally quar-
rels arise for the possession of some log which affords them easy
access to the coveted plants. At Beaver Lake, in Lewis County,
Mr. John Constable once witnessed an encounter during which one
of the combatants was tumbled into the water. The animals did
not attempt to bite, but growled and snarled and pushed.

Mr. Eugene P. Bicknell, while encamped on the summit of Slide
Mountain in the Catskills, in June, 1882, was favored by a visit
from a number of these curious animals, and his account of their
actions well illustrates some of their prominent characteristics.
Mr. Bicknell says: ‘‘ From evening till morning dusk our cabin on
the extreme summit of the mountain was virtually besieged by
them, and through the chinks their dark forms could be seen mov-
ing about among the shadows in the moonlight, while their sharp
cries, and often low conversational chatter, singularly like the
voices of infants, were weird interruptions of the midnight silence,
or later, of the moaning wind.

“The seeming nocturnal temerity of these creatures appeared to
be simply an exhibition of excessive stupidity. It was found
impossible to drive them from the camp for any length of time;
they seemed to be destitute of the faculty of memory, and even a
light charge of shot sent among them was only for the moment
effectual. Even when one particularly stupid individual had been

shot dead in the doorway trying to effect an entrance by gnawing

206 MAMMALIA.

its way through a gap, another, shortly after, continued the opera-
tion beside the lifeless body of its companion.

“Tt seems probable that these singular rodents cannot long sur-
vive human settlement. Incapable of rapid motion they are easily
approached, and their spiny armature, so potent a protection from
their natural enemies, fails before the merciless power of man. In
the isolation of the mountain top where we have just seen them,
they appeared to be ata loss to understand the nature of their
disturbers, and when met with showed little excitement, or anxiety
to escape. Their greatest effort in this direction appeared to be
leisurely shuffling out of the immediate way, often climbing with
sluggish effort into a small balsam and composing themselves
among the branches just out of easy reach.” * |

Among certain Indian tribes the flesh of the Porcupine is a
staple article of diet, and I have been informed by hunters and
trappers that it is by no means bad eating.

In the copper districts of Lake Superior, Porcupines are put to
a novel use. The following clipping is from the Oxtonagon
[ Michigan] A/zxer of July 28th, 1883: ‘ Porcupines as Fuel.—Mr.
Stratton who has charge of the work at the Wilmot mine has
found a new article of fuel which is more effective than green
wood, Porcupines! Yes, Porcupines. These pests had become so
numerous, that one day he threw a couple of them into the fire
place of the steam-drill, and to his surprise his steam ran up to 80
pounds inashort time. Having made this discovery he concluded
to follow it up, and the boys are ordered to kill and bring in every
porcupine they can catch, which are thrown in to help make fuel.
They have now killed and burned 126 of them.”

By persons ignorant of natural history, the Porcupine is some-
times called “ Hedgehog.” The hedgehog is a small: animal, re-
lated to the mole, and is not found in America.

The Porcupine makes its nest in a ledge of rocks, or in the hol-

* Transactions of the Linnzan Society of New York, Vol. I, 1882, pp. 121-122.

LEPUS AMERICANUS. 207

low of a tree or log. Its young, generally one or two in number,
are born about the first of May, and are monstrous for the size of
the species. They are actually larger, and relatively more than
thirty times larger, than the young of the black bear at birth.*

Josselyn, in his account of 7wo Voyages to New England, says :
“The Porcupine likewise I have treated of, only this I forgot to
acquaint you with, that they lay Eggs, and are good meat” (p.
75).

The intestines of these animals usually contain large numbers of
tape-worms.

Family LEPORID.

LEPUS AMERICANUS Erxleben.

Great Northern Hare, Northern Varying Hare.

The Northern Hare is found in greater or less abundance in
most parts of the Adirondacks above the altitude of fifteen hundred
feet (477 metres). Below this altitude, particularly on the eastern
or Champlain side of the Wilderness, it grades insensibly into the
southern variety, Lepus Americanus Virginianus.

In summer the Northern Hare feeds upon a variety of tender
shoots, grasses, leaveg, buds, and berries; in winter its diet is
limited to the twigs and bark of shrubs and small trees, particularly
of the poplar, birch, and willow.

The haunts of this species vary somewhat with the season. In
summer it is found in the dark evergreen forests, while in winter,
when the ground is frozen and covered with snow, it retires to the
swamps, and to the dense thickets, chiefly of alder and black spruce,

* May Ist, 1882, I shot, at Big Moose Lake, a female Porcupine which contained a foetus that
would certainly have been born within two or three days. It weighed one and one-quarter pound
avoirdupois (567 grammes), and measured in total length eleven and one-fourth inches (285 mm.),
the head and body measuring about seven and three-fourth inches (just 195 mm.). It was densely
covered with long black hair, and the quills on its back measured a little over half an inch (13
mm.) in length. The discoid placenta measured two and one-quarter inches (57 mm.) in diameter.

208 MAMMALIA.

bordering many of the lakes and beaver meadows.* At all times
of the year it inhabits the burnt districts that are strewn with
charred logs and grown over with blackberry bushes, studded here
and there with saplings of the poplar, birch, cherry, and shad-bush.

It does not inhabit burrows, nor take refuge in hollow trees, like
the gray rabbit, but seeks temporary shelter under a log, tree-top,
young evergreen, or other covert where it is not likely to be dis-
turbed. Here it spends the greater part of the day, feeding chiefly
by night. It follows certain definite routes with such frequency
that regular runways are formed. In these it is often snared.

About the borders of the Wilderness the Varying Hare is a
favorite object of the chase. It is hunted with hounds, during the
early winter months, and is shot while circling through the swamps,
or crossing from hill to hill in the burnt districts. Audubon and
Bachman state that its flesh is not good eating, to which opinion
I take exception, for, having eaten several dozens of them, I am
prepared to pronounce them tender and well-flavored. When
properly cooked they certainly constitute an excellent article of diet.
The above-mentioned authors observe: ‘ This species in the
beginning of winter varies from three to six and a half pounds, but
we consider five and a half pounds to be an average weight of a
full-grown animal in good condition.” + In the Adirondack region
a five-pound Hare is exceptionally large, the adults averaging not
more than four and a half pounds (2,041 grammes) in weight.

I have never found the nest, but it is doubtless placed under a
brush heap, or in some other equally secure covert. From four to
six young are produced at a birth, four being the usual number.
They are born late in May. There may be two litters in a season,
but I have no proof of it. This species has many enemies, among

* In my journal of a snow-shoe tramp in the Adirondacks, in January, 1883, I find the following
entry concerning this species : ‘‘Scarcely a track seen except about the borders of lakes and beaver
meadows. Very common near Big Otter Lake, and tolerably so at Little Safford Lake and in a
swamp west of Independence Lake ; also between Big Moose and Second Lake of North Branch,
and near the Forge.”’

+ Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 96.

LEPUS AMERICANUS. 209

the most formidable of which are the lynx, fox, ermine, mink,
marten, fisher, eagle, the snowy and great-horned owls, and the
larger hawks. .

The Varying Hare derives its name from the well-known circum-
stance that it changes color in spring and fall—being dark reddish-
brown in summer and snowy white in winter. Concerning the
method of the change much difference of opinion exists, and some
of the ablest of recent writers pass the point in silence.

Pennant says: ‘‘ These animals, at approach of winter, receive
a new coat, which consists of a multitude of long white hairs, twice
as long as the summer fur, which still remains beneath.” * Dr.
Richardson stated that, in his opinion, ‘ the change to the winter
dress takes place by a lengthening and blanching of the summer fur ;
whilst the change in the beginning of summer consists in the winter
coat falling off during the growth of the new and coloured fur.” +
This opinion comes very near the truth, but does not express the
whole truth. The first clause is absolutely correct ; for in the fall
the change certainly does occur “ by a lengthening and blanching
of the summer fur,” the individual hairs changing color after the
first fallof snow. This species, like the great majority of mammals,
is clothed with two kinds of hair—a fine soft fur which densely
covers all parts of the body, and longer, stiffer hairs, scattered
through, and projecting beyond, the former. These long hairs
are black in summer and white in winter. In the fall of the year,
when the change begins, they become white at the tips first, the
black gradually fading from above downwards until the entire hair
is white. In spring the process is reversed, the exposed portion
of the long hairs becoming black (though the extreme tip some-
times remains white until the change is far advanced), which color
gradually extends downward, at the expense of the white, until the

entire hair is black. Sometimes the displacement of the white is

* Arctic Zoology, Vol. I, 1792, p. I10.
+ Fauna Boreali-Americana, Vol. I, 1829, p. 218.

210 MAMMALIA.

temporarily interrupted, the two colors appearing in alternate zones.
And during the latter part of March, when the body of the animal
is still white, it is not uncommon to find hundreds of black hairs
scattered over the back, many of them with the extreme apices,
and a narrow zone between the middle and base, white. In fall or
early winter the soft fur becomes tipped with white, the white
portion increasing somewhat in length and diameter. In spring a
curious phenomenon takes place. The white portion of the fur
loses its vitality, becomes brittle, and breaks off on slight friction,
so that the animal, in brushing through the undergrowth, soon
rids himself of it. As a rule the long hairs change first.* Both
in spring and fall the time of the change seems to be governed by
the presence or absence of snow, and is not affected by the tem-
perature. It occurs independently of the moult, and the new hairs
assume the prevailing color of the animal, or the color toward
which it is tending at the time of their appearance.

Mr. J. A. Allen, in his elaborate monograph of North American
Hares, states that instances of melanism “are very rare among the
American Leforide.” He further says: “ Among the specimens
of var. Americanus is a single example of melanism, a mutilated
skin (No. 6268) labeled as follows: ‘ Lefus Americanus, Rainy
Lake, H. B. T.’ It is apparently a winter skin, the pelage being
very long and full. The color is dull plumbeous-black throughout,
there being a slight grayish cast to the surface of the pelage, par-
ticularly on the head, breast, and back.” ¢ I have had the good
fortune to examine two excellent melanistic specimens of this
species, both in the collection of Mr. Romeyn B. Hough, of Low-

ville, New York. The animals were shot in winter (one in March),

* Specimens in my museum, killed in Lewis County, December Ist, March 21st, and April 3d,
well illustrate the above described conditions of pelage. In spring, while the change is in progress,
the attachment of the white tips is so feeble that hundreds may be blown off at a single puff. The
change occurs more or less irregularly over the greater part of the body, but is usually symmetrical
on the head, giving rise to a very pretty pattern.

+ Monographs of North American Rodentia, 1877, p. 305.

LEPUS. AMERICANUS VIRGINIANUS., 211

in the town of Lyonsdale, in Lewis County. In color they are

a uniform dark sooty-brown, lighter on the soles of the feet.

LEPUS AMERICANUS VIRGINIANUS (Harlan) Allen.

Southern Varying Hare.

This:variety or subspecies of the Varying Hare occurs in the
low border-lands of the Adirondacks, particularly in the valleys of
Lakes George and Champlain, but is not met with at any great
elevation, a few hundred feet constituting, in this latitude, its
altitudinal limit. |

Its food and habits are not known to differ from those of its
nearest relative, the great northern hare, from which it may be
distinguished, in winter, by the circumstance that the change to
white is not complete, more or less light reddish-brown remain-
ing about the head and ears, and on the upper surfaces of the fore-
feet.

Rabbits are not commonly supposed to swim, but Mr. William
Brewster has kindly written me of a case that fell under his personal
observation. He says: “ While at Lake Umbagog, Maine, in the
summer of 1873, I saw something which may interest you. I was
paddling up Cambridge River one warm July morning when, upon
rounding a bend, my attention was attracted by a slight splashing
sound ahead, and looking closely I discovered a Rabbit (Lepus
Americanus) evidently about to attempt the passage of the stream
which at that place was perhaps one hundred feet wide, and at
least eight or ten deep. He entered the water deliberately, but
without apparent fear or hesitation, and was soon beyond his depth
and striking out boldly for the opposite shore. A more ridiculous
(albeit successful) attempt at swimming can scarcely be imagined.
He literally opped through the water, using only his hind legs and
kicking with such vigor that the whole forward part of his body
was raised above the surface at each stroke. Between the strokes

212 MAMMALIA.

he would sink back until, sometimes, only the tip of the nose was
exposed. I fancy that an immense bull-frog, weighted after the
manner of ‘Mark Twain’s’ ‘ Dan] Webster,’ would cut a some-
what similar figure.

“This method of progression was naturally fatiguing, and before
the animal reached the opposite bank the strokes became feebler
and the intervals between them longer until I began to fear that
the tired creature would be drowned. At length, however, he
struck bottom, and, loping across a stretch of bare mud, disappeared
in the woods. Szch an appearance as he presented upon emerging
from the water !—the lankness of his form revealed by the clinging
and bedraggled fur, the ears drooping and the whole expression
one of dejection and shame.

“None of the guides or trappers of my acquaintance have ever
seen a Rabbit swim, although I have been told of an instance
where one was observed to take to the shallow water on the margin
of a pond and run through it for several hundred yards before
leaping again into the woods. The purpose of this manceuvre was
apparent a moment later when a Sable appeared on the Rabbit's
track and following it to the water’s edge lost it there.

“On the occasion just described, however, no pursuer appeared,
nor do I think that ¢#zs Rabbit entered the water under compul-
sion, or for the purpose of obliterating the scent of his tracks. On
the contrary, the action was undertaken so deliberately, that I
believe the animal to have been impelled by some idle whim,
merely—such as a desire to try fresh pasturage or, perhaps, to see
what the world was like on the other side of the stream. How-
ever this may be, the case is doubtless exceptional, for Lepus
Americanus ordinarily has as great an aversion to the water as any
house cat.”

Mr. Nelson Harris, a well-known Adirondack hunter, tells me
that while still-hunting in Northern Michigan, a few winters ago,
he saw a white Rabbit, that had stumbled into camp and was

LEPUS SYLVATICUS. 213

‘cornered,” plunge fearlessly into a swiftly flowing river and swim

to the other side.

REPUS SYLVATICUS. Bachman,
Gray Rabbit.

The Gray Rabbit is a more southern animal than either of the
species heretofore considered, and only enters the Adirondack re-
gion along its southern border, in Fulton, Saratoga, and Warren
Counties.

In addition to the food which constitutes the diet of the varying
hare, the Gray Rabbit enters the garden and orchard, sometimes
committing great havoc. Robert Kennicott says: “In hunting
these quadrupeds, every winter, and working every summer, for
ten years, in a very large nursery of fruit-trees, where they were
numerous, I have never seen a tree from which bark had been
enawed by them, though thousands were severely ‘pruned,’ the
rabbits, in deep snows, appearing to feed entirely upon the twigs
and buds of the young apple trees. From the larger limbs they
cut off the buds, of which they are fond; and in the woods, in win-
ter, they can be tracked to living forest trees, recently felled, to
which they repair to feed upon the buds. They also feed in win-
ter upon the buds and young shoots of briars, sumach, hazel, thorn,
oak, hickory, basswood, poplar, and other shrubs and trees.” *

Its favorite haunts, according to my observation,+ are pine
barrens, and thickets of laurel (Aadmza /atzfolia) and other under-
growth. Like the northern hare, it has regular runways which it
uses at all times of the year; but unlike that species it habitually
takes refuge in burrows in the earth and in hollow trees.

* Quadrupeds of Illinois Injurious and Beneficial to the Farmer. By Robert Kennicott, 1858,
pp. 80-81.

+ I have found it in greater or less abundance in the Connecticut Valley in central Massachu-
setts ; in southern Connecticut ; in southern New York (Westchester County); in the vicinity of
Elizabeth, New Jersey; about Aiken, South Carolina ; and in Florida,

214 MAMMALIA.

Audubon and Bachman state: “In the Northern and Middle
States, where the burrows of the Maryland marmot (4rctomys
monax) and the holes resorted to by the common skunk, (ephetes
chinga,) are numerous, the Gray Rabbit, in order to effect its
escape when pursued, betakes itself to them, and as they are gen-
erally deep, or placed among rocks or roots, it would require more
labour to unearth it when it has taken possession of either of these
animal’s retreats than it is worth, and it is generally left unmolested.
It is not always safe in these cases, however, for the skunk occa-
sionally is ‘at home’ when the Rabbit runs into his hole, and often
catches and devours the astonished fugitive before it can retrace
its steps and reach the mouth of the burrow.” *

Kennicott says: “The grey rabbit is vety prolific, producing
young three or four times a year, and usually from four to six at a
birth. In open ground the female scratches a shallow hollow, in
which to bring forth her young. In this she forms a nest of soft
leaves and grasses, well-lined with fur from her own body ;-and
when she is absent, the young are always completely covered and
concealed in the nest, which they leave at an early age, and sepa-
rate from the mother as soon as able to take care of themselves.” +

* Quadrupeds of North America, Vol. I, 1846, p. 177.
+ Quadrupeds of Illinois Injurious and Beneficial to the Farmer. By Robert Kennicott, 1858,
p- 81.

A NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECIDA.
(Atophyrax Lendiriz Merriam.)

BY

CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M.D.

ese nw tiem or ka NEW GENUS’ AND SPECIES
Oe Vk SORECIDA:,

ATOPHYRAX BENDIRII Merriam.
Bendire’s Shrew.
By CLINTON HART MERRIAM, M. D.

In a collection of mammals from Klamath Basin, Oregon, kindly
presented to me by Captain Chas. E. Bendire, Ist Cavalry, U. 5. A.,
is a Shrew of more than ordinary interest. Concerning its history
Captain Bendire writes me: “ It was captured in one of my camps
while I was constructing a telegraph line from Fort Klamath,
Oregon, to Fort Bidwell, California. The exact locality was about
a mile from Williamson’s River, and some eighteen miles south-
east of Fort Klamath. The last of July or first of August comes
within a day or two of the date. I had just returned from fishing
when one of my men brought me the specimen, stating that it had
been caught an hour before by one of the dogs. I was camped
near a little spring on the edge of a wet meadow, along and
amongst a grove of pine timber.”

It is one of the largest of the Shrews, weighing about four times
as much as Sorex Coofer?, and proves to be the type of a new genus.
It presents, in some respects, a curious combination of the charac-
ters of the Shrews hitherto described, together with certain
peculiarities of its own which indicate a modification more extreme
even than that met with in Veosorex. I take pleasure in bestow-
ing upon this interesting animal the name of the distinguished
naturalist by whom it was secured—a name that must ever be
associated with the natural history, not of Oregon alone, but of
a number of our western States and Territories.

In order to arrive at a clear conception of the peculiarities and

19

.

218 NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECID#.

relationships of Bendire’s Shrew, it must be compared with typical
representatives of the genera to which it is most closely allied, and
these are found to be Sorex and Neosorex—its affinities with
Blarina being very remote. But, as preliminary to this inquiry, it
becomes expedient to indicate the differences existing between the
two first-mentioned genera. |

The only tangible diagnostic characters that have been assigned
to the genus Veosorex are the long fimbriated feet, the great length
of the tail, and the circumstance that the known species are “ sharply
bicolor, blackish above and whitish beneath.” No distinctive
cranial or dental characters having been pointed out,* I have in-
stituted a comparison between the type specimen of /Veosorex
navigator + and a specimen of Sorex Cooperz. The differences
noted are as follows: In Meosorex the rostrum is longer, and its
sides meet the cranium at a decided angle ; while in Sovex the sides
of the rostrum are but little out of line with the cranium. In
Neosorex the rostrum is more sharply compressed just in front of
the molariform series, so that its anterior portion is more attenuate,
and the unicuspids more nearly parallel than in Sorex. The
greater development of the facial portion of the skull is best
shown in the lengthening of the upper jaw and the shortening of the
floor of the cranium. In Sorex, the ratio to the entire length of the
skull of the distance from the front incisor to the hinder margin of
the palate is 43.2; in Meosorex, 46.3. On the other hand, the ratio
to the entire length of skull of the distance from the hinder margin

* IT am aware that Coues, in his ‘‘ Precursory Notes on American Insectivorous Mammals”’
(Bull. U. S. Geol. and Geog. Survey, Vol. III, No. 3, 1877, pp. 631-653), says that in WVeosorex
the posterior hook of the upper incisor is ‘‘ as large as the succeeding tooth” (p. 641). But Baird,
in his original description of the genus, expressly states that the basal hook only equals the fourth
unicuspid, which is considerably smaller than the first. Having the type specimen of WV. navigator
before me, and examining it with special reference to this point, I find that the basal hook is but
little more than half—certainly not two-thirds—as large as the first unicuspid.

+ I am indebted to the courtesy of Professor S, F. Baird for the privilege of examining the type of
Neosorex navigator (No. 1289), together with several other representatives of the Veosorex group,
belonging to the United States National Museum. My thanks are also due Captain Chas. E.

Bendire and Dr. Elliott Coues for their kindness in selecting and transmitting the specimens.

ATOPHYRAX BENDIRII. 219

of the palate to the foramen magnum is, in Sorex, 44.4; in Meosorex,
43-9. This production of the rostrum is accompanied by a corre-
sponding increase in the length of the under jaw, and shortening
of the distance between the glenoid process and occipital condyle,
the ratio of which, to the entire length of the cranium, is 46.3 in
Sorex, and 43.9 in Neosorex. -In Neosorex the distance from the
posterior margin of the palate to the front incisor is considerably
greater than the distance from the same point to the foramen
magnum. In Sorex the posterior margin of the palate is situate
nearly midway between the front incisor and the foramen magnum.
On the floor of the cranium, the narrowest part of the basi-occipital
is broader in Veosorex than in Sorex.

Turning, now, to the animal under consideration, and examining
it with reference to the points concerned in the above comparison,
the fact appears that, while it is in some respects intermediate
between the two genera, it also differs widely from both. - The
rostrum is even longer and more attenuate than in Meosorex, with
a well-marked angle laterally at its point of union with the cranium.
The unicuspid series are nearly parallel. The ratio of the length of
rostrum to the entire length of skull is 57.7; in eosorex it is 56;
and in Sorex 55.5. The ratio to length of skull of the distance
from hinder margin of palate to the foramen magnum is 40.8; in

Neosorex 43.9; n Sorex 44.4. (For other ratios see table A, p.

oa.)

So far as dental characters are concerned it stands alone among
the species of the Pacific region. Prof. Baird, in his diagnosis of
the genus /Veosorex, stated that the fourth unicuspid was larger than
the third. He further called attention to the circumstance that all
the known species of Sorex from the Pacific Province had the third
upper unicuspid decidedly swzad/er than the fourth.* Twenty years
later (in 1877) Dr. Coues thus commented upon this feature: “A
striking peculiarity of all the Western species, no matter how diverse

* Pacific Railroad Reports, Vol. VIII, 1857, p. 13.

220 NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECID.

in other respects, is to have the ‘third premolar’ decidedly smaller
than the ‘fourth;’ while in all the species east of the Rocky
Mountains (with one possible exception), the same tooth is as large
as or larger than the other. Of the fact there is no question ; it
may be observed in an instant, and is unmistakable.” *

But Bendire’s Shrew, though an inhabitant of the Pacific prov-
ince, has the third and fourth unicuspids of approximately equal
size, presenting, in this respect, a curiously exceptional condition.

In the type of Meosorex navigator the ratio of the length of the
hind foot to the head and body is 36, in the present species it is 26,
and in Sorex Cooper? 21. In Bendire’s Shrew the proportions of
the feet differ from those of any known species, agreeing better
with Meosorex than with any other member of the family. The fore
feet are large and broad, measuring 11 by 4 mm.; the hind feet are
very long and comparatively slender, measuring 20 by 3.5 mm.
The fore feet much resemble those of the Blarzna brevicauda, but
the hind feet are both relatively and absolutely much longer. Thus,
arranging the described American Shrews according to the length
of the hind foot, B/arzza would stand at one end of the series and
Neosorex at the other, the various species of Sovex coming next
after Blarzna, and the present species next before Veosorex. The -
feet are moderately fimbriate, but not to the extent seen in /Veo-
sorex , still, the fimbriation is sufficient to indicate a non-fossorial
habit.

The tail is almost as long as the head and body. In Meosorex
it is given as “about equaling or exceeding the head and body.”
In coloration it differs widely from (Veosorex, being unicolor instead
of bicolor.

In comparing it with the genus Sorex it is necessary to consider
only the subgenus Sorex proper, with which it agrees in the pos-
session of thirty-two teeth. It is found to differ from this subgenus,

as restricted by Coues, in the following particulars :

* Bull. U. S. Geol. and Geog. Survey, Vol. III, No. 3, 1877, p. 637.

ATOPHYRAX BENDIRII. eh |

a. The inner lobe of the upper front incisor is small.

6. The fifth unicuspid is nearly half as large as the fourth, and is
not at all crowded.

c. The distance across the molars (outside to outside) is greater
than half the width of the cranium (as in W/crosorex).

d. The depth of the rostrum (including the closed jaw) is equal
to that of the cerebral portion of the cranium.

e. The coronoid process of the mandible is large and divergent
(as in Veosorex, and somewhat as in Notiosorex).

f. The insertion of the lower incisor is anterior to the middle of
the second unicuspid.

g. The lower incisor has but two denticulations.

To recapitulate: Bendire’s Shrew differs from all existing gen-
era in external, cranial, and dental characters. It has affinities
with both Sovex and eosorex and is in some respects intermediate
between them, though in other respects it passes Meosorex in the
direction away from Sorex. It also possesses characters of its own
not found in either of these genera. I propose for its reception

the genus
ATOPY RAX,.*

Generic characters.—Teeth thirty-two, not crowded. Upper
front incisor with basal hook about two-thirds as large as next suc-
ceeding tooth; subterminal notched lobe small, connivent with its
fellow. Unicuspids five, imbricating, not crowded; fifth nearly
half as large as fourth, with a well-developed conical cusp. Upper
molariform teeth constituting just half the length of the entire
series. Lower premolar markedly bicuspidate.

Rostrum much produced, occupying a little more than five-ninths
of the entire length of skull. Greatest breadth of skull considera-
bly less than half its length, and equal to the distance from front
incisor to hinder margin of palate. Posterior margin of palate
situate far behind a point midway between the front incisor and
foramen magnum. Base of cranium shorter than in any other
American group of Sorecide. Vault of cranium higher, more
arched laterally, and narrower than in (eosorex (somewhat as in
Sorex), the cerebral portion rising considerably out of line with the
rostrum. Sagittal, lambdoidal, squamous, and zygomatic crests
well-marked. The occipital plane slopes forward, meeting the
parietals at a more abrupt angle than in Sorex, instead of rounding
up into the vault of the cranium as in Meosorex. Rostrum strongly

* Atoph’-yrax: @To70S, anomalous ; JaaS—sorex.
Pp Bs ’ ’

222 NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECIDA.

compressed in front of the molariform teeth, narrowest opposite
the third unicuspid. Unicuspid series nearly parallel. Molariform
series abruptly divergent. Alveolar border of maxillary deeply
and somewhat angularly concave, the fifth unicuspid lying at the
bottom of the concavity. Interpterygoid canal actually and rela-
tively much broader than in either Sorex or (eosorex (in this re-
spect resembling Cvossopus), its lateral parietes nearly parallel.
Horizontal ramus of the mandible stout and slightly convex.
Coronoids large and high, divergent outward and inclining forward.
Styliform angular processes much shorter than in the other genera.
Depth of the rostrum (including closed jaw) equal to that of cere-
bral portion of cranium.

Hind foot more than one-fourth as long as head and body; mod-
erately fimbriate. Tail nearly as long as head and body.

ATOPHYRAX OBENDIRIL -spr ey,
Bendtre’s Shrew.
DIAGNOSIS.

Size large; tail nearly equal to head and body; muzzle attenu-
ate, depressed sub-cylindrical. Unzcolor: above sooty blackish-
brown, fading imperceptibly into dark ashen-brown on throat and
breast. Tail well haired, pencilled, absolutely unicolor. Ratio of
hind foot to length of head and body about 26.

First and second unicuspids subequal ; third and fourth smaller
and subequal to each other ; fifth smallest, but nearly half as large
as fourth, not crowded, provided with a conical, colored cusp.
Lower incisor with two prominent denticulations ; its visible base
extending posteriorly to a little beyond the first succeeding tooth.

DESCRIPTION. *
(Adult male, alcoholic.)

External characters—Size large; total length 150 mm.; head
and body 76 mm.; tail, vertebre 68 mm., to end of hairs 74 mm.;
manus II mm.; pes 20 mm.

Unicolor : above sooty blackish-brown, darkest over flanks and
hips, fading imperceptibly into dark ashen-brown on the throat and
breast.t No trace of line of demarkation on either body or tail.
Tail colored like back; upper and lower surfaces indistinguish-
able. Chin soiled white. Feet same color as body. Whiskers

* With a few exceptions the generic characters already enumerated are not here repeated.

+ Viewed in certain lights the animal has a somewhat ‘‘ peppery” appearance, which is due to
the admixture of two kinds of hair: the longer with a nearly black awn-shaped enlargement at the
tip; the shorter, a coarse fur, of uniform size throughout, and brown tipped.

ATOPHYRAX BENDIRII. 223

black with colorless tips, the longest reaching a little beyond the
ear. Hair very dense and long, that on the back and shoulders
measuring 6 mm.; basal two-thirds dark plumbeous.

Ears moderate, barely distinguishable without parting the fur;
auricle, without fringe of hairs, 2.5 mm., with fringe, 6 mm. Eyes
small but distinctly visible. Muffle rather large, deeply furrowed
along the median line; nostrils opening laterally. Muzzle long,
attenuate, depressed sub- cylindnical, protruding somewhat abruptly
from the very broad head.*

Tail large, sub-quadrate for about two-thirds its length, well
clothed with stiff, bristle-like, appressed hairs, measuring about

2.50 mm. on the middle third, gradually increasing in length on
the terminal third, and ending in a pencil 5 mm. in length.

Manus large and broad, measuring 4 by 11 mm.; pes long and
slender, 3.5 by 20m, Upper surfaces and sides of both feet
densely haired to claws, the marginal hairs stiff, elongated, and
turned down in such a way as to form a pronounced border on each
side of each foot and toe (but not fimbriated to the extent seen in
Neosorex). Soles naked to end of heel; nearly black. Toes with
claws : manus, third and fourth subequal, second claw overreaching
base of third, fifth not reaching base of fourth, first falling short
of base of fifth; Aes, third and fourth subequal, second but little
shorter, fifth reaching nearly to base of fourth, first overreaching

base of fifth. (Formula for toes of both manus and pes = 3— 4
Bite? Ts.)
Dental Characters, — First and second unicuspids subequal,

largest ; third and fourth subequal, smaller ; fifth, smallest, but very
large for a Shrew (distinctly visible to the naked eye from both
sides and from below), nearly half as large as fourth, with a well-
developed, conical, colored cusp; not crowded. Lower incisor
with two prominent denticulations, two notches, and one sinuation ;
its base extending beyond the canine and appearing under the an-
terior third of the premolar. Premolar markedly bicuspidate, the
‘anterior cusp longest and connected by an oblique, deeply notched
ridge with the posterior, from which another ridge is inflected
obliquely backward and inward, thus defining a triangular area
whose apex points outward. ‘The resemblance of this tooth to the
anterior segment of the first true molar is striking. Tips of all
the teeth well colored.

Cranial Characters.—Skull large and heavy (weighing .15
grammes—but only half-as heavy as that of eee brevicauda,
which, in adults, averages about .30 grammes). A broad constric-
tion occupies the middle fifth of the skull, extending from the base

* This apparent breadth of the head is due to the length of the hairs on its sides, the cranium
being narrow.

22% NEW GENUS AND SPECIES OF THE SORECIDA.,

of the malar process of the maxillary bone to the glenoid fossa.
The anteorbital foramen is very large. The rostrum is strongly
compressed in front of the molariform teeth, its sides rising almost
vertically to form the lateral walls of the anterior portion of the
nasal chamber. The width opposite the third unicuspid is 2.20
mm., while the distance across the molars is 6 mm.—or 2.72 times
greater. The pterygoid hamuli are slender styliform processes
extending almost directly backward.

The mandible presents no marked peculiarities. The horizontal
ramus is stout and slightly convex. The coronoids are large and
high, diverge outward, and incline a little forward. The styliform
angular processes are relatively short for a Shrew; they are
parallel, and are directed backward, and slightly downward.

Nothing whatever is known of the habits of Bendire’s Shrew.
Its structure, however, leads to the belief that it is not amphibious
like eosorex, nor an inhabitant of dry uplands, like the various
species of Sorex proper, but that it is a marsh species, dwelling in
wet meadows, and occasionally taking the water either in the pur-
suit of its prey or as a means of escape from its enemies.

In view of its isolated position, speculations concerning its
genetic affinities are perhaps unwarrantable ; still, a somewhat
critical study of its peculiarities shows that, whatever its past
history, it cannot be regarded as intermediate between Sorex and
Neosorex. Neither can it have been derived from Jeosorex.
Hence the logical inference is that Avophyrax, in common with
Neosorex, was early differentiated from a group of thirty-two-
toothed Shrews of which the genus Sovex contains the nearest
living allies. Having abandoned a fossorial for, in the one case
a natatory, in the other a paludal habit, Meosorex and Aloph-
yrax doubtless began to diverge in the same direction, their dis-
tinctive features having been developed and intensified as their pe-
culiarities of habit became fixed—each retaining in different de-
grees of modification certain characteristics of the original stock.

For the very accurate drawings accompanying this paper I am
indebted to the kindness of Mr. Ernest E. T. Seton, who executed

them, under my supervision, from the alcoholic specimen.

ATOPHYRAX BENDIRII.

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INDEX

Abies
alba; 1,20:
balsamea, I, 21, 26, 128.
Canadensis, I, 21, 26.
nigra, I, 21, 26, 128.
Accipiter fuscus, I, 166.
Acer:
dasycarpum, II, 117.
Pennsylvanicum, I, 22, 128.
rubrum, Lore lh 116:
saccharinum, I, 21; II, 117.
saccharinum nigrum, I, 21.
spicatum, I, 22, 26, 128.
Achillea millefolium, I, 23.
Acorus calamus, I, 23.
Acteea
alba 223
“spicata rubra, I, 22, 129.
Agelzeus pheeniceus, I, 159.
Agrotis
astricta, I, 25.
Chardinyi, I, 25.
conflua, I, 25.
Aix sponsa, I, 167.
Alauda arvensis, I, 159.
Alce Americanus, II, 40-45.
Allium tricoccum, I, 24.
Alnus
incana, I, 22.
serrulata, I, 128.
viridis, I, 22.
Amblystoma punctatum, I, 124.
Amelanchier
Canadensis, I, 22.
Canadensis botryapium, I,

22,

Canadensis oblongifolia, I,
22.

Canadensis oligocarpa, IT,
128.

Ampelis cedrorum, I, 154.
Ampelopsis quinquefolia, I, 22.
Anas obscura, I, 167.
Andromeda
ligustrina, I, 128.
polifolia, I, 22; II, 192.
Anemone
nemorosa, I, 22.
Pennsylvanica, I, 23.
Anodon Benedictii, I, 126.
Anorthura troglodytes hiemalis,
I, 136, 145-146.
Antennaria margaritacea, I, 23.
Apocynum androszmifolium, I,
22.
Aquila chrysaétus Canadensis, I,
165.
Aquilegia Canadensis, I, 22.

TOeYORUMES I anp IT.

Arabis
lyrata, I, 22.
perfoliata, I, 129.
Aralia
hispida, I, 129.
nudicaulis, I, 23, 129.
quinguefolia, I, 129.
recemosa, I, 23, 129.
trifolia, I, 23, 26.
ATHOn Mite lk, 20s Dik gy 12s
Archangelica atropurpurea, I,
23, 120;
Arctomys monax, II, 142-154,
214.
Arctostaphylos uva-ursi, I, 22.
Ardea herodias, I, 167.
Arenaria
Greenlandica, I,
laterifolia, I, 22.
Ariszema triphyllum, I, 23.
Arvicola
riparius, II, 173, 174-177.
scalopsoides, II, 72.
Asarum Canadense, I, 23.
Ash,
Black, I, 2r.
White, I, 21.
Aspen,

American, I, 21.
Large-toothed, I, 21.
Aspidium aculeatum Braunii, I,

130.
Aster acuminatus, I, 26, 129.
Astragalinus tristis, I, 156.
Atalapha
cinerea, II, 78-83.
Noveboracensis, II, 83-86,
92

D220,

Atophyrax Bendirii, IT, 215-225.

Azalea
nudiflora, I, 22; II, 193.
viscosa, I, 128.

Balsam, Canada, I, 131, 141
142, 144, 147, 156, 162,
Balsam Poplar, I, 21.
Bass Wood, I, 21.
Bat,
Carolina, II, 86-89.
Dusky, II, 86-89.
Hoary, II, 78-83.
Little Brown, II, 96-99.
New York, II, 83-86.
Red, II, 83-86.
Silver-haired, II, go-96.
Bear, I, 27, 28, 95-104, 120
123.
Beaver, 1) 17, 27.5) Dh, 155—160:

’

Beech, I, 21, 127, 142, 147.
Beechnut, II, 9, 12, 128-130,
136, 140.
3endire’s Shrew, II, 215-225.
Setula
glandulosa, I, 26,
lenta, I, 22.
lutea, I, 21, 128,
papyracea, I, 21.
Bidens cernua, I, 23.
Birch, I; 127, 162.
Canoe, I, 21.
Chernysol 2s
Paper, I, 21:
Yellow, I, 21, 128.
Bird,
Bluey ie 139. nag
Cate Is EAS.
Cow, I, 158-159.
Indigo, I, 139, 158.
King, I, 160.
Mocking, I, r4o.
Phoebe, I, 160.
Blackbird,
Crow, I, 159.
Red-winged, I, 159.
Rusty, I, 18; 25, 158.
Black Squirrel, II, 121-134.
Blarina
brevicauda, I, 122; II, 66-

75:

Carolinensis, IT, 73.

talpoides, II, 73.
Bluebird, I, 139, 143.
Blue Gentian, I, 17.
Bobolink, I, 158.
Bonasa umbella, I, 167.
Brewer’s Mole, II, 49, 63-65.
Bubo Virginianus, I, 165.
Bufo lentiginosus Americanus,

Ie 1245
Buteo borealis, I, 166.
Butternut, I, 21.

Calamagrostis, I, 16, 23, 26.

Calla palustris, I, 23, 129.

Calopogon pulchellus, I, 23.

Caltha palustris, I, 22,

Calypso borealis, I, 23.

Campanula rotundifolia, I, 23,
26.

Canace Canadensis, I, 167.

Canada Jay, I, 12, 17, I9, 25,

E59, LL. 77:

Canis lupus, I, 42-44.

Caprimulgus vociferus, I, 163-
164.

Carcajou, I, 48.

228

Cardinal Flower, I, 17.
Carex
arctata, I, 129.
Careyana, I, 129.
Deweyana, I, 129.
intumescens, I, 131.
irrigua, I, 16.
pallescens, I, 130.
plantaginea, I, 129.
scabrata, I, 130.
vitilis, I, 129.
Cariacus Virginianus, II, 9-40.
Carpinus Americana, I, 22.
Carpodacus purpureus, I, 155-
156.
Carya, I, 128.
amara, I, 21.
Cassandra calyculata, I, 16, 22,
26; II, 192, 193.
Cassiope hypnoides, I, 26.
Castanea, I, 128.
Castor fiber Canadensis, II, 155-
160.
Cat,
Black, 48-51.
Wild, I, 41-42.
Catbird, I, 143.
Caulophyllum thatictroides, I,
ao
Cedar, White, I, 21; II, 9, 12.
Celastrus scandens, I, 22.
Celtis, I, 128.
Cephalanthus occidentalis, I, 22.
Cephalozia bicuspidata, I, 162.
Certhia familiaris rufa, I, 144.
Cervus Canadensis, II, 45-47.
Ceryle alcyon, I, 165.
Cetraria Islandica. I, 24.
Chetura pelasgica, I, 163.
Chat cervier, I, 41-42.
Chat, Yellow-breasted, I, 135.
Chelone glabra, I, 23.
Cherry,
Black, Ey 21;
Wild Red, I, 152.
Chestnut, I, 127.
Chewink, I, 12, 135, 139, 155;
158.
Chickadee,
Black-capped, I, 132, 144.
Hudsonian, I, 144.
Chickaree, II, 111-120.
Chimaphila umbellata, I, 23, 26.
Chiogenes hispidula, I, 15, 23,
20

Chipmunk, I, 27, 28, 29, 122;
II, 135-141.
Chordeiles popetue, I, 164.
Cidaria
albolineata, I, 25.
cunigerata, I, 25.
hersiliata, I, 25.
Packardata, I, 25,
truncata, I, 25.
Cinclus, I, 150.
Circza alpina, I, 23, 26, 129.
Cladonia rangiferina, I, 24.

INDEX.

Claytonia Caroliniana, I, 23, 26,) Deer, I, 27, 29; Il, 9-40.

129.
Clematis Virginiana, I, 22.
Clethra, I, 128.
Clintonia borealis, I, 23, 26,
129, 162.
Coccygus erythrophthalmus, I,

165.
Cock-of-the-Woods, I, 18.
Colaptes auratus, I, 165.
Colymbus torquatus, I, 168.
Comandia umbellata, I, 23.
Condylura
cristata, II, 48-55.
macroura, II, 54.
Contopus
borealis, I, 160.
virens, I, 160.
Coptis trifolia, I, 22, 26, 129,
135.
Coremia ferrugaria, I, 25.
Cornus
alternifolia, I, 22.
Canadensis, I, 23, 26, 129;
Ses
circinata, I, 22.
florida, I, 128.
paniculata, I, 22.
stolonifera, I, 22.
Corvus
corax carnivorus, I, 159.
frugivorus, I, 159.
maritimus, J, 135.
ossifragus, I, 107-111.
Corylus rostrata, I, 23, 128; II,
ai fe
Cotile riparia, I, 154.
Coturnicuius passerinus, I, 155.
Cougar, I, 29-39; II, 15-16.
Cowbird, I, 158-159.
Cratzegus
coccinea, I, 22.
crus-galli, I, 22.
tomentosa, I, 22.

Creeper, Brown, I, 20, 132, 144.

Crossbill,
Red, 1, 10, 25, 132,,150:
White-winged, I, Ig, 25.
Crossopus, II, 222.
Crow,
Common, 159.
Fish, I, 107-111, 135-136,
159.
Cuckoos, I, 134, 165.
Cyanocitta cristata, I, 159.
Cynoglossum
Morrisoni, I, 23.
officinale, I, 23.
Cypripedium
acaule, I, 23, 26:
parviflorum, I, 23.
pubescens, I, 23, 26.
spectabile, I, 23, 26.

Dabchick, Pied-billed, I, 168.
Dace, Black-nosed, I, 125.
Dalibarda repens, I, 23, 26.

Dendrceca
zstiva, I, 146.
Blackburniz, I, 136, 137
138, 149.
Canadensis, I, 136.
ceerulescens, I, 136, 137,
138, 146-147.
coronata, I, 136, 137, 147.
icterocephala, I, 136.
maculosa, I, 136, 137, 147
—148.
Pennsylvanica, I, 136, 138,
148, 159.
pinus, I, 146.
striata, I, 144, 148-149.
virens, I, 136; 137; 138}
144, 149, 159.
Dentaria
diphylla, I, 22.
laciniata, I, 22.
Desmognath, Yellow, I, 124.
Desmognathus ochropheea, I,
L24s Es
Diadophis punctatus, I, 123.
Diapensia Lapponica, I, 23, 26.
Dicentra
Canadensis, I, 22, 26, 129.
cucullaria, I, 22.
Dicranum, I, 24.
flagellare, I, 162.
longifolium, I, 162.
Diemyctylus
miniatus, I, 124.
viridescens, I, 124.
Diervilla trifida, I, 22, 129.
Dipus
Americanus, II, 194-196.
mellivorus, II, 196.
Diver, Great Northern, I, 168.
Dolichonyx oryzivorus, I, 158.
Dove, Mourning, I, 12, 135,
166.
Drosera
longifolia, I, 22.
rotundifolia, I, 22.
Duck,
Dusky, I, 167.
Golden-eyed, I, 25.
Wood, I, 18, 167.
Dusky Bat, II, 86-89.

Eagle,
Golden, I, 165.
White-headed, I, 166.
Ectopistes migratorius, I, 166.
Eft, Red, I, 124.
Elephant, Fossil, II, 47.
Elephus Americanus, II, 47.
Elk, II, 45-47.
Bim: ie
Slippery, I, 21.
Elodes Virginica, I, 22.
Empetrum nigrum, I, 26.
Empidonax
flaviventris, I, 160-163.
minimus, I, 163.

Empidonax Trailli, I, 163.
Epigzea repens, I, 23.
Epilobium
alpinum, I, 26.
angustifolium, I, 17, 23,
129
coloratum, I, 23.
palustre lineare, I, 23, 26.
spicatum, I, 129, 152.
Epiphegus Virginiana, I, 23.
Equus major, II, 47.
Erethizon dorsatus, I, 121-122;
II, 202-207.
Eriocaulon septangulare, I, 24.,
Ermine, I, 27, 56-64, 65.
Erythronium Americanum, I,
24.
Euonymus, I, 128.
Eupatorium
ageratoides, I, 23.
perfoliatum, I, 23.
purpureum, I, 23.
Euteenia
Sintalis, 1, £23.
sirtalis ordinata, I, 123.
Evotomys rutilus Gapperi, II,
173-174.

Fagus ferruginea, I, 21.
Felis concolor, I, 29-39.
Fiber zibethicus, II, 177—-I91.
Finch, Purple, I, 20, 132, 134,
155-1506.
Fir, Balsam, I, 21, 128.
Fisher, I, 24, 27, 48-51.
Flycatcher,
Great-crested, I, 134, 135,
160.
east, I, £34, 163.
Olive-sided, I, 17, 25, 160.
rails aia nOs.
Yellow-bellied, I, 132, 160-
163.
Flying Squirrel, II, g9-108.
Northern, I, 24; II,
108-110.
Fossil Elephant, II, 47.
Fossil Horse, II, 47.
Fox, I, 45-47, 92.
Fox Squirrel, II, 134-135.
Fragaria
vescay ly .235 E20:
Virginiana, I, 129.
Fraxinus
Americana, I, 21.
sambucifolia, I, 21.
Frog,
Bull, I, 124.
Green, I, 124.
Piping Tree, I, 124.
Wood, I, 124.

Galium
lanceolatum, I, 129.
trifidum pusillum, I, 23.
Gaultheria procumbens, I, 23;
Lye r2:

INDEX.

Gaylussacia resinosa, I, 22.
Gentiana, I, 23.
Geothlypis
Philadelphia, I, 152.
irichasy 1, /Ts2;
Geranium Robertianum, I, 22,
26, 120.
Gerbillus, II, 198.
Geum
macrophyllum, I, 22, 26.
rivale, I, 129.
Goldfinch, American, I, 156.
Goodyera repens, I, 23, 26.
Goshawk, I, 25; II, 130.
Gray Rabbit, II, 213-214.
Gray Squirrel, I, 27, 28, 123;
II, 121-134.
Great Northern Hare, II, 207-
210,
Great Willow Herb, I, 152.
Grosbeak,

Pines ie 09;
Rose-breasted, I, 158.
Ground Squirrel, II, 135-141.

Grouse,
Ruffed, I, 19, 40, 167.
Spruce, I, 12, 16, Tg, 25.
Gulo luscus, I, 47-48.

Habenaria
blephariglottis, I, 23.
dilatata, I, 16, 23, 26.
fimbriata, I, 23.
Hookeri, I, 23.
hyperborea, I, 23, 26.
lacera, I, 23.
orbiculata, I, 23.
psycodes, I, 23.
tridentata, I, 23.
viridis bracteata, I, 23, 129.
Hairy-tailed Mole, II, 63-65.
Haliaétus leucocephalus, I, 166.
Hammamelis Virginica, I, 22.
Hare, Great Northern, I, 24,
Ee nie" MI Loy i es
Southern Varying, II, 211-
273)
Harporhynchus rufus, I, 143.
Hawk,
Fish, I, 165.

Red-tailed, I, 132, 166.
Sharp-shinned, I, 166.
Helianthemum Canadensis, I,

Ip:
Helicodiscus lineatus, I, 126.
Helinaia solitaria, I, 146.
Helminthotherus vermivorous,
IRE3s.
Helminthophila
chrysoptera, I, 135.
pinus, I, 135, 146.
ruficapilla, I, 146.
Hemlock, I, 21, 144, 147, 149,
154.
Hepatica triloba, I, 22.
Heracleum lanatum, I, 23.
Herb, Willow, I, 17, 152.

229

Heron, Great Blue, I, 18, 101,
167.
Hesperomys leucopus, II, 67-
69, 165-173.
Hickories, I, 127.
Hickory, Swamp, I, 21.
Hirundo erythrogastra, I, 155.
Hoary Bat, II, 78-83.
Hobble Bush, I, 147.
Horse, Fossil, II, 47.
House Mouse, II, 162-165.
Houstonia czrulea, I, 23.
Hummingbird, Ruby-throated,
fe uadofe
Hydrophyllum
Canadense, I, 23.
Virginicum, I, 23.
Hyla
Pickeringii, I, 124.
versicolor, I, 125.
Hylocichla
aliciz, I, 140, 142.
alicie Bicknelli, I,
140, I4I, 142.
fuscescens, I, I40-I4I.
mustelina, I, 140.
unalasce nanus, I, 140, 143.
ustulata Swainsoni, I, 140,
141-143.
Hylotomus pileatus, I, 164.
Hypericum
ellipticum, I, 22.
perforatum, I, 22.
pyramidatum, I, 22.
Hypnum, I, 24.
crista-castrensis, I, 162.
Muhlenbeckii ?, I, 162.
Mullerianum, I, 162.
Schreberi, I, 162.
splendens, I, 15, 162.
umbratum, I, 162.

116,

Icteria virens, I, 135.
Icterus
galbula, I, 159.
spurius, I, 135, 158.
Ilex levigata, I, 22, 128; I,

193.

Impatiens pallida, I, 22, 26,
129.

Indigo Bird, I, 139, 158.

Jaculus Hudsonius, IT, 199.
Jay,
Blue, I, 19, 132, 159.
Canada,-I, 12, 17, 19, 25;
159; II, 77.
Juglans cinerea, I, 21.
Jumping Mouse, II, 192-202.
Junco hiemalis, I, 25, 136, 137,
157, 159.
Juniper, I, 21, 128.
Juniperus Virginiana, I, 21.

Kalmia
angustifolia, I, 22; II, 193.
glauca, I, 16, 22, 26; II, 192.

230

Kingbird, I, 160.

Kingfisher, Belted, I, 165.

Kinglet, Golden-crowned, I, 20,
136, 144.

Labrador Mouse, II, 192-202.
Laportea Canadensis, I, 23.
aren; 1.25,
Larentia cesiata, I, 25.
Larix Americana, I, 21;
109.
Lark,
European Sky, I, 159.
Meadow, I, 134, 158, 159.
Ledum latifolium, I, 16, 22, 26.

MeL

Lepus
Americanus, I, 122; II, 207
—211.
Americanus Virginianus,

II, 211-213.
sylvaticus, I, 122; II, 213-
214.
Leucothoé, IJ, 128.
Linden, American, I, 21.
Lindera, I, 128.
Linnza borealis, I, 15, 23.
Liopeltis, I, 123.
Liquidambar, I, 128.
Liriodendron, I, 127.
Listera cordata, I, 23, 26.
Lobelia
cardinalis, I, 23.
inflata, I, 23.
Kalmii, I, 23.
syphylitica, I, 23.
iGecust;, 1, 25.
Lonicera ciliata, I,
129.
Loon, I, 19, 37, 87.
Lophodytes cucullatus, I, 168.
Loxia curvirostra Americana, I,
156.
Lutra Canadensis, I, 87-91.
Luzula parviflora, I, 11g, 129.
Lynx, I,-24, 40-42.
Bay, I, 41-42.
Canada, I, 40.
Lynx
Canadensis, I, 40.
rufus, I, 41-42.
Lysimachia
ciliata. 1323:
thyrsiflora, I, 23.

eat Oe

Macrocyclis concaya, I, 126.

Maple,
Hard: iy 127:
Red, I, 21.

Soft, I, 154.

Sugar, I, 21.

Swamp, I, 21.
Marmot, II, 142-154.
Marten, I, 24, 27, 48-54.

Pennant’s, 48-51.

Pine, I, 52-54.
Martin, Purple, I, 154. -
Maryland Yellow-throat, I, 18. |

INDEX.

Mastigobryum trilobatum, I,
162.

Mastodon, II, 47.

Meadow Mouse, II, 67, 174-
177,

Medeola Virginica, I, 23.
Melanerpes erythrocephalus, I,
165; II, 128-130.

Melanippe
fluctuata, I, 25.
hastata, I, 25.
Melospiza _
fasciata, I, 157.
p2lustris, I, 155.
Mephitis mephitica, I, 69-87;
itp oats
Merganser,

Hooded, I, 168.
Red-breasted, I, 168.
Mergus merganser Americanus,

I, 168.
Mergus serrator, I, 168.
Merula migratoria, I, 143.
Mesodon
albolabris, I, 126.
dentifera, I, 126.
Sayii, I, 126.
Microstylis monophyllos, I, 23,
26.
Mimulus ringens, I, 23.
Mimus
Carolinensis, I, 143.
polyglottus, I, r4o.
Mink, I, 27, 48, 64-69, 78, 92.
Mitchella repens, I, 23:
Mitella
diphylla, I, 23, 26, 129.
nuda, I, 23, 26.
Mniotilta varia, I,
146.
Mocking Bird, I, 140.
Mole,
Brewer’s, II, 63-65.
Hairy-tailed, II, 63-65.
Shrew, II, 55-62.
Star-nosed, II, 48-55.
Molothrus ater, I, 158-159.
Monarda didyma, I, 23.
Monotropa uniflora, I, 23.
Morus, I, 128.
Moose, I, 17, 27; II, 40-45.
Moss,
Iceland, I, 24.
Reindeer, I, 24.
Shining Feather, I, 15.
Mouse,
House, II, 162-165.
Jumping, I, 24, 28; II, 192
—202.
Long-eared Wood, I, 24;
II, 173-174.
Meadow, II, 174-177.
Red-backed, II, 173-174.
White-footed, II, 165-173.
Mus
decumanus, II, 110, 161-
162.

196; 537;

Mus musculus, II, 162-165.
Muskrat, I, 27; II, 177—¥01.
Mustela

Americana, I, 52-54.

Pennanti, I, 48-51.
Myiarchus crinitus, I, 135, 160.
Myiodioctes Canadensis, I, 136,

138; 152) e150:

mitratus, I, 136, 137.

Myrica gale, I, 22, 128; II, 192.

Nabalus
Bootii, I, 26.
nanus, I, 26.
Nemopanthes Canadensis,
128.
Neosorex navigator, II, 217-225.
Night-hawk, I, 164.
Nuphar advena, I, 22.
Nuthatch,
Canada, 1, 132,136:
Red-bellied, I, 12, 20, 24,

I,

144.
| White-bellied, I, 144.
| Nymphezea ordorata, I, 22.
Nyssa, I, 128.
| Oak, La2iAt27r
| GEnothera
biennis, I, 23.
pumila, I, 23.
Ophibolus doliatus triangulus,
I, 123.
Oporabia cambricaria, I, 25.
Orchis spectabilis, I, 23, 26.
Orioles, I, 134.
Oriole,
Baltimore, I, 159.
Orchard, I, 135, 158.
| Orthotrichum, I, 24.
Ortyx Virginiana, I, 167.
Osmorrhiza
brevistylis, I, 23.
longistylis, I, 23.
Ostrya Virginica, I, 21. +
Otter, I, 27, 48, 66, 87-91, 92.
Owl, I, 19, 37, 79, 165.
Barred, I, 165.
Great-horned, I, 79, 165.
Screech, 1, 165.
Oxalis acetosella, I, 22, 26, 129
162.

Pallifera dorsalis, I, 126.
Pandion haliaétus, I, 165.
Panther, I, 29-39; II, 15-16.
Partridge,
Canada, I, 16.
Spruce, I, 40, 167.
Parula Americana, I, 136, 137,
146.
Parus
atricapillus, I, 144.
Hudsonicus, I, 144.
Passer domesticus, I, 158.
Passerculus sandvicensis savana,
I, 156.

Passerina cyanea, I, 158.
Patula

alternata, I, 126.

striatella, I, 126.
Peabody Bird, I, 18.
Pedicularis Canadensis, I, 23.
Pekan, I, 48-51.
Perisoreus Canadensis, I, 159.
Petrochelidon lunifrons, I, 154—

155.
Pewee, Wood, I, 17, 18, 160.
Philohela minor, I, 167.
Phoca vitulina, I, 1to4—106.
Pheebe-bird, I, 160.
Physa heterostropha, I, 126.
Picoides arcticus, II, 109.
Picus
pubescens, I, 164.
varius, I, 138.
villosus, I, 164.
Pigeon, Passenger, I, 166.
Pine,
Norway, I, 21.
Pirchapks: 21
Red, I, 21.
White, I, 21.
Pinus
rigida, I, 21.
resinosa, I, 21.
Strobusy i 2 26; Tl. 116:
Pipilo erythrophthalmus, I, 135,
155, 158.
Platanus, I, 128.
Plethodon erythronotus, I, 124,
125,
Plusia
bimaculata, I, 25.
u-aureum, I, 25.
Poa alsodes, I, 130.
Podilymbus podiceps, I, 168.
Pogonia ophioglossoides, I, 23.
Polecat, I, 69-87.
Polygala paucifolia, I, 22, 26.
Polygonatum triflorum, I, 23.
Polygonum cilinode, I, 129.
Polytrichum
commune, I, 162.
formosum, I, 162.
Pontederia cordata, I, 24.
Pocecetes gramineus, I, 156.
Populus
balsamifera, I, 21.
grandidentata, I, 21.
tremuloides, I, 21; II, 157.
Porcupine, I, 24, 29, 30, I2I-
122; II, 202-207.
Potentilla
Canadensis, I, 23.
Norvegica, I, 22.
palustris, I, 22.
tridentata, I, 22, 26.
Poterium Canadense, I, 22, 26.
Progne subis, I, 154.
Prunus
Pennsylvanica, I, 22, 152.
pumila, I, 22.
serotina, I, 21.

INDEX.

Prunus Virginiana, I, 22.
Puma, I, 29-39.
Putorius
erminea, I, 56-64.
vison, I, 64-69; II, 73.
vulgaris, I, 54-56.
Pyranga rubra, I, 155.
Pyrola
chlorantha, I, 23.
rotundifolia, I, 26.
secunda, I, 23.
Pyrus
Americana, I, 128; II, 12.
sambucifolia, I, 22.

Quail, I, 167.
Quercus, I, 21, 128.
Quiscalus purpureus, I, 159.

Rabbit, Little Gray, I, 122; II,
213-214.
Raccoon, I, 27, 28, 91-95.
Rana
Catesbiana, I, 124.
clamitans, I, 124.
temporaria sylvatica, I, 124;
I 193°
Ranunculus
abortivus, I, 22.
ACHIS Uleerse:
flammula reptans, I, 22, 26.
recurvatus, I, 22.
Raspberry, I, 147.
Rat, II, 110, 161-162.
Rattlesnake, I, 124.
Avenel 2a TO 25 mls Os
Red-backed Mouse, II, 173-
174.
Red Bat, II, 83-86.
Red Deer, I, 27, 29; II, 9-40.
Red-headed Woodpecker, II,
128-130.
Red Squirrel, I, 18, 29, 66, 123;
II, I1I-120, 122, 131.
Redstart, American, I, 152.
Regulus satrapa, I, 136, 144.
Rhinanthus crista-galli, I, 23.
Rhinichthys atronasus, I, 125.
Rhododendron
Lapponicum, I, 26.
maximum, I, 128.
Rhodora Canadensis, I, 22, 26.
Ribes ; ;
Cynosbati, I, 128.
hirtellum, I, 128.
lacustre, I, 22, 26, 128.
prostratum, I, 128.
rotundifolium, I, 128.
rubrum, I, 22,
Robin; 117, 19}, 14.3%
Robinia pseudacacia, I, 21.
Rosa Carolina, I, 22.
Rubus
Canadensis, I, 22.
occidentalis, I, 22.
odoratus, I, 22, 129.
strigosus, I, 22, 129.

Rubus
triflorus, I, 22,
villosus, I, 22.

129.

Sable,

Alaska, I, 69-87.

Hudson’s Bay, I, 52-54.
Sagittaria calycina, I, 23.
Salamander,

Alleghany Mountain,

124.
Large Yellow-spotted, I

I,

’

124.

Red-backed, I, 124.

Red Triton or, I, 124.

Two-striped, I, 124.
Salix i 225 26;

Sambucus

Canadensis, I, 22.

pubens, I, 22, 128.
Sandpiper,

Solitary, I, 167.

Spotted, I, 167.
Sanguinaria Canadensis, I, 22.
Sarracenea purpurea, I, 22.
Sassafras, I, 128.

Saxifraga Pennsylvanica, I, 23.

Sayiornis fusca, I, 160.

Scalops aquaticus, II, 55-62,
63, 65.

Scapania albicans, I, 162.

Scapanus

Americanus, II, 63-65.

Brewerl, II, 50, 63-65.
Scheuchzeria palustris, I, 23.
Sciuropterus

volucella, II, 99-108.

volucella Hudsonius,

108-110.
Sciurus
Carolinensis, I,
121134.
Hudsonius, I, 123; II, 111-
120.

niger cinereus, II, 134-135.

Scolecophagus ferrugineus, I,
158.

Scops asio, I, 165.

Scrophularia nodosa, I, 23.

Scutellaria

galericulata, I, 23.

lateriflora, I, 23.

Seal, Harbor, I, 27, 104-106.
Senecio aureus, I, 23.
Setophaga rutacilla, I, 137, 152.
Sheldrake, Common, I, 168.
Shrew, I, 27.

Bendire’s, II, 215-225.

Broad-nosed, II, 77.

Cooper’s, II, 75-77.

Mole, I, 122; II, 49, 55-

62.

Short-tailed, II, 66-75.
Sialia sialis, I, 143.

Silene inflata, I, 22.
Silver-haired Bat, II, go—96.
Sitta Canadensis, I, 136, 144.

ig

T2230 ole

232

Sitta Carolinensis, I, 144.
Siurus
auricapillus, I, 149.
neevius, I, 151-152.
motacilla, I, 135, 149-151.
Skunk, I, 27, 67, 69-87, 93; II,
214.
Smilacena
bifolia, I, 23, 26, 129.
racemosa, I, 23.
stellata, I, 23.
trifolia, I 23) 26:
Snake,
Milk, I, 123.
Ring-necked, I, 123.
Striped, I, 123.
Snow-berry, Creeping, I, 15.
Snowbird, Slate-colored, I, 18,
TQ; 1325030; 3137, 9030;
155, 157-
Solidago
virga-aurea alpina, I, 26.
thyrsoidea, I, 23, 26, 129,
162.
Sorex
Cooperi, II, 75-77, 217-225.
platyrhinus, II, 77.
Spargania magnoliata, I, 25.
Sparrow,
Chipping, I, 157.
English, I, 158.
Hueld i leew2 5913090057.
Fox-colored, I, 20.
Savanna, I, 156.
Song, I, 18, I9, 157.
Swamp, I, 155.
Vesper, I, 156.
White-throated, I, 12, 19,
25, 156-157.
Yellow-winged, I, 155.
Spelerpes
bilineatus, I, 124, 125.
ruber, I, 124.
Sphagnum, I, 15, 16, 17, 24.
Sphyropicus varius, I, 138, 164.
Spike-horn Deer, II, 22-26.
Spiranthes
cernua, I, 23.
gracilis, I, 23.
latifolia, I, 23.
Spireea
salicifolia, I, 22; II, 192.
tomentosa, I, 22; II, 193.
Spizella
agrestis, I, 157.
domestica, I, 157.
Spruce,
Blacks 21 1288
Norway, I, 136.
White, I, 21.
Squirrel,
Black, II, 121-134.
Flying, II, 99-108.
Fox, I, 27; Il, 134-135.
CLAY, lee 27 28, ak 2 Sie le
121-134.
Ground, II, 135-141.

INDEX.

Squirrel
Hudsonian Flying, I, 24;
II, 108-110.
Red, I, 18, 29, 66, 123; II,
III—120.

Striped, II, 135-141.
Star-nosed Mole, II, 48-55.
Stelgidopteryx serripennis, I,

135, 154.
Stenotrema

monodon, I, 126.

monodon fraterna, I, 126.
Stoat, I, 56-64.

Streptopus

amplexifolius, I, 129.

LOSEUS le 235 20) 020;
Strix nebulosa, I, 165.
Sturnella magna, I, 159.
Succinea obliqua, I, 126.
Swallow,

Bank, I, 154.

Barn ela igy slash.

Cliff, I, 134, 154-155.

Rough-winged, I, 135, 136.

White-bellied, I, 155.
Swift, Chimney, I, 163.
Sylvicola

Blackburnia, I, 138.

Canadensis, I, 138.

icterocephala, I, 138.

pardalina, I, 138.

virens, I, 138.
Symphytum officinale, I, 23.

Tacamahac, I, 21.
Tachycineta bicolor, I, 155.
Talpa
Americana, IT, 63.
Europea, II, 65.
Tamarack, I, 21.
Tamias striatus, I,
135-I4I.
Tanacetum vulgare, I, 23.
Tanager, Scarlet, I, 134, 155.
Taxus baccata Canadensis, I,
22255
Tebenophorus Canadensis, I,
126.
Telmatodytes palustris, I, 145.
Thamnonoma brunneata, I, 25.
Thalictrum dioicum, I, 22.
Thrasher, Brown, I, 12, 134,
143.
Thrush,
Bicknell’s, I, 132, 141.
Brown, I, 134, 143.
Golden-crowned, I,

122°) sole

134,

149.

Gray-cheeked, I, 140, 141.

“Flermit, I> 12; 18; 20;/24;
192,040, ©43:

Large-billed Water, I, 12,
135, 139, 149-151.

Olive-backed, I, 12,
I4I-143.

132,

Small-billed Water, I, 151-

152.

Thrush,
Swainson’s, I, 24.
Wilson’s, I, 140-141.
Wood, I, 12, 134, 139, 140.
Thuja occidentalis, I, 21, 26;
HU fo), 123
Tiarella cordifolia, I, 23, 26,
129.
Tilia Americana, I, 21.
Titmouse,
Hudsonian, I, 19, 25.
Black-capped, I, Ig.
Toad, Common, I, 124
Totanus solitarius, I, 167.
Trientalis Americana, I, 23,
26, 129, 162.
Trifolium pratense, II, 143.
Trillium
erectum,'I, 23, 26, 1209.
erythrocarpum, I, 23, 26,
129.
grandiflorum, I, 23, 26.
Tringoides macularius, I, 167.
Triosteum perfoliatum, I, 23.
Trochilus colubris, I, 163.
Troglodytes domesticus, I, 145.
Trout, Brook, I, 125.
Tussilago farfara, I, 23.
Tyrannus Carolinensis, I, 160.

Ulmus
Americana, I, 21.
fulvay len
Ursus Americanus, I, 95-104.
Uvularia
grandiflora, I, 23.
sessifolia, I, 23.
Usnea, I, 16, 24.
Utricularia cornuta, I, 23.

Vaccinium
ceespitosum, I, 23, 26.
corymbosum, I, 22.
macrocarpon, I, 23.
Pennsylvanicum, I, 22.
uliginosum, I, 26.
vacillans, I, 128.
Vitis-Ideea, I, 26.
Varying Hare,
Northern UI, 207-211.
Southern, 11, 211-213.
Verbascum thapsus, I, 23.
Veratrum viride, I, 16, 23, 129,
Lai
Veronica
Americana, I, 129.
officinalis, I, 129.
Vespertilio
lucifugus, ITI, 96.
subulatus, IT, 92, 90-99.
Vesperugo j
serotinus fuscus, II, 86-89.
noctivagans, II, 78, 90-96.
Viburnum
acerifolium, I, 22.
lantanoides, I, 22, 128, 147.
lentago, I, 22.

Viburnum

nudum cassinoides, I, 128,
eas

opulus, I, 22, 128.
prunifolium, I, 128.

Viola
blanda, I, 22, 131
Canadensis, I, 22, 26, 129.
canina sylvestris I, 22.
cucullata, I, 22.
pubescens, I, 22.
rotundifolia, I, 22, 26, 129.
rostrata, I, 22.
Selkerki, I, 22.

Vireo
flavifrons, I, (53.
gilvus, I, 153.
Noveboracensis, I, 135, 153
olivaceus, I, 153, 159.
solitarius, I, 137, 138, 153-

154.
Blue-headed, I, 137, 139,
153-154
Red-eyed, I, 153.
Warbling, I, 134, 153.
White-eyed, I, 134, 135, 153.
Yellow-throated, I, 134, 153.
Vulres vulgaris Pennsylvanicus,
\ 45-47.

Waldsteinia fragarioides, I, 22,
26.
Wapiti, II, 45-47.
Warbler,
Blackburnian, I, 12, 24, 149.
Black Poll, I, 132, 148-149
Black and Yellow, I, 12, 24,
132, 147-148.

16

INDEX.

Warbler,

Black-throated Blue, I, 136,
139, 146-147.

Black-throated Green, I, 132,
(36, 149.

Blue-winged Yellow, I, 135,
146.

Blue Yellow-backed, I, 16,

146.
Canada Fly-catching, I, 12
TOMe eGo. 52.

Chestnut-sided, I, 147, 148.

Golden-winged, I, 135

Hooded, I, 135.

Mourning, I, 12, 17, 24, 132

139, 152, (58.

Nashville, I, 20.

Summer Yellow, I, 146, 148.

Tennessee, I, 24.

Worm-eating, I, 135.

Yellow-rumped, I, 12, 24,

E32 eUsOwrs7. 47:
Waxwing, Cedar, 154.
Weasel,

Brown, I, 56 64.

Large, I, 56-64

Least, I, 54-56.

White I, 56-64.
Whip-poor-will, I 163-164
White-footed Mouse II, 68-70,

_ 165-173, 193.
White-tailed Deer, I, 27, 29; II,

9-49.
Wild Cat, I, 41-42, 120.
Wolf, I, 42-44, 79; Il, 14
Wolverine, I, 47-48.
Woodchuck, I, 28; II, 142-154.
Woodcock, I, 167.

233

Woodpecker,
Banded-backed, I, 25.
Black-backed, I, 25.
Downy, I, 20, 164.
Golden-winged, I, 165.
Hairy, I, 20, 132, 164.
Pileated, I, 164.
Red-headed, I, 164.
Three-toed, I, 12, 18, 25.
Yellow-bellied, I, 164.

Wood-rush, I, 119.

Wren
Golden-crested, I, 144.
House, I, 12, 134, 135, £39,

145.
Long-billed Marsh, I, 145.
Short-billed Marsh, I, 145
Winter, “ly 12) 1S.) 208
132, 136, 139, 140, 145-
146.

Yellow-throat, Maryland, I, 152.

Zamelodia Ludoyiciana I, 158.
Zapus Hudsonius, II, 192-202.
Zenaidura Carolinensis, I, 135,
160.
Zonites
arboreus, I, 126.
Binneyanus, I, 126.
exiguus, I, 126.
fuliginosus, I, 126.
fulvus, I, 126.
indentatus, I, 126.
inornatus, I, 126.
ligerus, I, 126.
minusculus (?), I, 126.
multidentatus, I, 126,

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