A Summer Outing and What Came of It

Horned Owl

A Summer Outing and What Came of It A Story for Boys, with Some Observations Which May be of Interest to Men

By Hon. Anthony W . Ivins

Chapter III "Forests were ever the cradles of men; Manhood is born of a kinship with trees. Whence shall come brave hearts and strong, When woods have made way for our cities of ease?" With the first appearance of light in the east, the lumber camp was awake and active. Breakfast was eaten before sunrise, the logging teams toiled up the slopes, the whistle called the mill men to their places, and the work of another busy day began. Frank Anderson arose, refreshed by a delightful night's repose, and packed up the load, while George brought in the horses. Breakfast was eaten with the m<ill hands, and after hearty handshakes and wishes of good luck and pleasure, the friends drove down the canyon toward their destination. Everywhere there were pines. Pines near them on the hillsides, pines on the most remote ridges and peaks, pines in the bottom of the canyons. The road wound around through the timber, here following a ridge, there, the side of a canyon;

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and again along the bank of a mountain stream. In the canyons the luxurious growth of vegetation showed greater variety. There were trees of ash, oak, sycamore, beautiful cedars, and an occasional quaking asp or maple, the leaves of the latter showing the first tints of autumn. Grass and flowers grew in profusion everywhere. As they proceeded, the variety of flowers became greater. Rounding a point in the canyon the dogs startled a flock of wild turkeys, which were scratching on the creek bottom. They scrambled up the rocky mountain-side and disappeared over the crest of a ridge. Frank wanted to stop the team and follow them, but George explained that because of the character of the country it

"The stream was fringed with willows."

would be useless. "The wild turkey," he said, "is a wary bird, and once disturbed in a place like this, is not easily approached. When they reach the top of the ridge there, they will fly across that canyon which you see, and would thus leave us far behind, with a very rough country intervening." "What are those?" asked Frank, as a great flock of birds flew from a grove of oaks near the road. "They are wild pigeons," replied his companion, "the American Band-Tailed pigeon; there are great numbers of them in the Sierra, and they afford rare sport to the hunter. They

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are fully as large as the tame pigeon, and excellent in flavor." A flock of birds passed over the heads of the travelers, high in the air, and keeping up a constant chatter as they flew. "Those are parrots," said George. "They are lighting in the tops of the pines there. Observe closely, as we pass, and you will see that they are very beautiful birds. It is difficult to see them while they are in the trees, the green of their bodies is so much like the green of the pines. They eat the seeds from the pine cones, and are rarely seen on the ground." As they drew near, Frank's admiration was unbounded. The green bodies of the birds were plainly visible, and the splashes of red and yellow were reflected by the morning sun, like burnished gold. As the buckboard rattled under the trees where they were feeding, away they went, with a great chattering and flapping of wings. "I have seen parrots before," said Frank, "but always in captivity. How glorious to see them here, without restraint, at home with the environment for which they were created." "You will discover, before we return," replied his friend, "that to appreciate the works of the Creator they must be seen in their natural state, unchanged by the hand of man." The dogs were in their element. Trailer frequently left the road, as his sensitive nose detected the trail of a deer which had crossed during the night, but a word from George restrained him; a little later, however, when a doe and two fawns dashed across the road and up the mountain side, he broke from all restraint and followed them, the cliffs echoing to his musical cry. "What will become of him?" exclaimed Frank. "He will not follow far,"replied his companion. "The instinct of his race prompts him to take the trail, and never leave it so long as he has strength to follow, but I have trained him to understand that he must not follow far unless I am with him." A little farther down the canyon, Fleete became greatly excited. "Watch her," said George, as he handed the lines to his companion, and taking his gun from the case put it together. "The cartridges are in the case, on the seat there by you; hand me two, No. 8." The dog was coursing rapidly about a hundred yards from the road. Suddenly she turned to windward, bounded forward a short distance, stopped, then advanced cautiously toward a bunch of willows, where she stood immovable as a statue, her neck extended, tail rigid, her whole body quivering. "What will become of him?" exclaimed Frank. "There is a flock of quails in that bunch of willows. The dog does not see them, but her keen nose tells her they are there, and instinct and training tell her that it is not safe to approach nearer until her master comes with his gun. Dogs

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have been known to stand, pointing a bird for hours, without moving. Here, take the gun, and as they rise bring down a pair; we need them for dinner." "No," replied Frank, "I have never fired a gun except in a shooting gallery. I fear we shall go hungry if you depend on me to keep the larder supplied." George got off the buckboard, walked to where the dog stood, and in a low voice told her to go on. She approached the willows cautiously, there was a confusing whi-r-r-r of wings; bang! bang! went the gun, a mist of feathers floated off in the

Massena Partridge, or "Fool Hen;" top, male; bottom, female.

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air, and two brown objects, from a confusion of others which moved rapidly away, came down into the grass with a thud. The dog did not move until told to do so, then she ran forward, picked the birds up, and brought them, onj by one, to her master. "We call them fool hens," said George. "They belong to the quail family, are larger than the ordinary quail, and the quality of their flesh is unsurpassed." The road led from the canyon and wound up toward the top of a steep mountain ridge. Near the top two birds flew from a juniper tree near the road, and lit on the top of a nearby oak. "Those are very rare birds," said George. "They are always found in pairs, and are rarely seen in the mountains. Their color is green, as you see, and their long tails, and the crest upon their heads are very much like the bird of paradise." It was noon when the top of the ridge was reached, and turning out the horses to graze, George prepared the noonday meal. The quails were dressed and fried, potatoes sliced and stewed, bottled fruit, with condensed cream, bread and butter. It was a bill of fare to please an epicure. The meal was finished, the load re-packed, the horses fed a little grain, and hitched up, and the journey resumed. Just as they were starting, Trailer came in, tired and footsore, glad to eat the dinner which Frank had reserved for him, and jump into the buckboard and ride when asked to do so. The topography of the country gradually changed. There were fewer canyons, the ridges were not so high, occasionally small valleys were passed, treeless, but covered with grass and skirted with pines. There were flowers everywhere; acres of blue, purple, pink, crimson, yellow and variegated, all in one indiscriminate mass, but with a remarkably harmonious blending of colors, nature's flower garden, untouched by the hand of man. "I have been trying to classify these flowers," said Frank. "What is that beautiful one there by that dead log? We have passed several of them since noon; it looks like a tulip, but the stalk is different." "It is a native of the Sierra," George replied. "We call it a tiger lily, and regard it as one of the most beautiful flowers of the mountains." "This afternoon," said Frank, "we have passed rare specimens of begonias, columbines, dahlias, four-o'clocks, honeysuckles, a flower which greatly resembles our calla, verbena, larkspurs, some beautiful Canterbury bells, and look at that bleeding heart, and those poppies!" "If you were here in the morning," said George, you would

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find the country covered with morning glories; there are many other varieties of flowers which have already gone to seed." The road suddenly brought them out into a mountain valley in which nestled a group of houses. A stream of water flowed through the valley to the north. Following this for about two miles it dropped into a deep canyon. There was no road and the descent was steep and rough, but by careful driving they reached the bottom in safety, at a point where the canyon widened out and two streams came together. In the forks of these creeks, on a high spot of ground, covered with grass, and shaded by scattering pine trees, camp was established. The stream was fringed with willows, and there were meadows on either side upon which cattle were grazing, while the mountain sides were covered with grass and flowers. The horses were unhitched, bells and hobbles put on them, and they were turned out to graze. The tent was pitched, some wood gathered, a fire

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"Away off on the mountain side a coyoto howled dismally"

started, and by the time darkness set in, they were ready for the night. It was a beautiful night. The full moon arose over the ridges to the east, and looked down through the pines like a great search-light, illuminating the canyon until it was almost as light as day. The night air, laden with the fragrance of spruce, cedar and wild flowers, was like the boudoir of a princess. Trout splashed in the stream, frogs croaked and crickets chirped incessantly. Night hawks drummed as they passed swiftly through the air in pursuit, of the insects on which they feed. From a branch of a giant dead pine, which stood just

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across the creek, a horned owl hooted, and away off on the mountain side a coyote howled dismally. Myriads of insects fluttered round the camp fire, many of them to be caught in the flames and destroyed. From the top of a juniper tree, near the camp, a mocking-bird sang as only a mocking-bird sings on a moonlight night. Changing rapidly he imitated all of the notes peculiar to his feathered companions, and many known only to himself, his song was like a medley of old melodies. A whippoorwill called from the bushes, near camp, and was answered by another, farther away, while from down the canyon they heard the bark of a gray wolf. "Tonight," said Frank, "in the great cities, the electric lights are converting night into day, as the moon is doing in the canyon here. There is music, beauty, happiness and innocence there, as there is here. The human moths are there, fluttering round the light, as they are here, many of them to be caught in the flames and destroyed. The human beasts of prey are there, too, and steal out from their hiding place in the darkness, seeking whom they may devour. How alike we are, after all, how like man nature is, and man like nature, with this exception, that there, in the great city, it is all the result of studied design; while here, in the wilds, it is the spontaneous response of every living thing to the call of nature."

Night Haitk