THE WINTER BIRDS OF THE GREAT LONE LAND--THE WHISKY JACK--THE
PTARMIGAN--THEIR BEDS IN THE SNOW--MISSION VISITS--CUPID'S DARTS--THE
WOOD SUPPLY--PRIMITIVE WAY OF CAPTURING PARTRIDGES--GREAT SNOWY OWLS--
METHODS OF CAPTURE--SAM'S EXPERIENCE--THE FEARFUL GRIP OF THE OWL'S
CLAW.
"Where are your singing birds?" said Sam one morning as he came in from
having taken Wenonah and Roderick out for a drive with the dogs. "We
have travelled over a dozen miles and have not heard a single bird
song."
"Only a whisky jack," said Roderick.
This reply of Roderick's made everybody laugh; for the shrill, harsh cry
of the Indians' sacred bird, called by the very unpoetical name of
whisky jack, is not very musical, but just the reverse.
"Our singing birds are all in the sunny South Land during these cold
months," said Mr Ross. "We have multitudes of them during our brief
summer time. Then, at the first breath of the Frost King, they flit
away and leave us so still and quiet."
"What about this saucy bird, here called whisky jack, that we meet with
on all of our wintry journeys?" asked Alec.
"Well," replied Mrs Ross, "you see, in the first place, that he is not
very handsome. His bluish-grey plumage is not very attractive, but he
has an inner coating of black down, and if you could strip him of both
of these jackets you would find him to be a very small bird after all.
The Indians used to call him their sacred bird. They never kill one, no
matter how hungry they may be. They have some beautiful traditions
associated with him. His voice, so harsh and loud, is, according to
some legends, the cry of a fair maiden who, fleeing from a hateful
suitor, was lost in a blizzard. In vain she called for her own
sweetheart, until her once musical voice became so harsh and rough that
it lost its beauty. To prevent her from falling into the hands of her
hated suitor, just as he was about [to seize] her the magicians changed
her, in answer to her prayer, into a bird, and this is the whisky jack."
"Our next most interesting winter bird," said Mr Ross, "is the
ptarmigan, or white partridge. The colder the winter the more numerous
they seem to be. They are easily snared, like the rabbits, as they have
certain favourite runs, and do not seem to observe the twine or wire
loops into which they so foolishly run their heads."
"Where do they sleep at nights?" asked little Roderick.
"Faith, and I know," said Sam; "for was I not fairly frightened out of
my wits by a lot of them one night when travelling late to the camp to
drive over a snowdrift into which they were burying themselves? I saw
them fly up high in the air, and then, like a stone, they just shot
themselves down and buried themselves out of sight of myself and those
who were with me."
"Yes," said Alec, "and I well remember how they startled me several
times as they were getting up out of these queer beds in the deep snow
away out from the dense woods. It always occurred very early in the
morning, shortly after we had left our camps in the woods, where we had
spent the night. I could hardly get used to the start they gave me, as
sometimes they flew right up from under the feet of my dogs. They
seemed like wee ghosts, they were so very white, and my dogs as well as
myself were disturbed by their uncanny ways."
"Do they go back to the same snowdrifts night after night?" asked Frank.
"No," said Mr Ross; "they are birds that move around a good deal, and
as far as the Indians' observations go the same flock or covey never
sleep twice in the same place. If they did the foxes and other animals
that are very fond of feeding on them would soon discover their
retreats, and would make short work of them."
Thus the days and weeks passed by. Sometimes all the boys, with Mr
Ross and a number of Indians, would be away on some great excursion
after the bears or beavers. At other times shorter trips would be
arranged, when but one or two of the boys would go.
Then there were the home sports and frequent visits to the traps and
snares. The dogs were kept busy, and the skates and snowshoes were not
forgotten.
The visits between Sagasta-weekee and the mission were very frequent,
and it began to appear as if Cupid had donned a fur ermine coat, or a
feather mantle, and had made a flying visit and fired a couple of his
darts into the hearts of Frank and Alec, and on these darts were the
names of the two lovely daughters of the missionary. Whether this be
true or not, or only a rumour brought by a relay of gulls, we cannot
say, but Mrs Ross affirmed that never since their arrival at Sagasta-
weekee were these two young gentlemen so particular about their personal
appearance, or so anxious to find some good and valid reason why they
should be sent over to the home of the missionary. It was also
remarked, by those who saw their two beautifully painted carioles made
ready for the trip, that an extra soft fur robe or two were placed
therein. Their skates were sometimes also carried along with them. It
was also further remarked that they generally preferred starting early
in the day, and it was an actual fact that, although the whole round
trip need not have taken more than three or four hours, they generally
did not return until long after dark. Rumours also reached Sagasta-
weekee that on several occasions two beautiful carioles, with lovely
white young ladies cozily wrapped up in costly furs, and driven by
handsome young gentlemen, had been met with, fairly flying over the
great icy routes, while the air was full of happy laughter that sounded
very much in unison with the music of the little silver bells that hung
on the collars of the splendid dogs. And furthermore, it was well known
that among the skating parties Frank and Alec were generally found
skating with these same two young ladies. Their explanations were that
their skates seemed to glide more in unison with each other, and in fact
that there was a sort of affinity between them. Then their joy was
complete when Mrs Ross invited the whole family from the mission to
come early and spend the day with them at Sagasta-weekee. It was
remarked that these two young gentlemen generally had word that the
devoted missionary had been using his dogs very much lately on his long
trips among the distant bands of Indians, and it would be a capital idea
for some of them to drive over with their fresh trains and bring back
some of the family. This happy suggestion was of course carried out,
but it was observed that the carioles of the aforesaid young gentlemen,
when they returned, only had in each of them a sweet-faced, beautiful
young lady, and they said that the trip had been "perfectly lovely!"
What happy days those were! To Frank and Alec had come their first
young love-dreams, and they were pure and sweet and stimulating. Cynics
and crusty, disappointed old bachelors might make fun of these youthful
lovers and make some sarcastic remarks; still, after all, where is the
noble, healthy, splendid young man of fifteen or sixteen that has not
safely passed through these same ordeals, and, as a general thing,
survived? So let Frank and Alec have these daydreams and thus enjoy
themselves. They will be none the worse, but rather the better, when
the ordeal is over, as it is with those who safely get through with a
lingering attack of the measles or scarlet fever.
One day Mr Ross sent old Mustagan out into the woods to select a place
where the next year's supply of wood could be obtained. His
instructions were to find a dense forest of tall, symmetrical trees from
which a trail or road could be easily made to Sagasta-weekee. Then
choppers would be sent in, and some acres of this forest would be cut
down and there left to dry for twelve months. The result would be that
at the end of the year's time the trees would be in splendid condition
for firewood. The next operation was to have these trees all cut up in
lengths that could be easily handed, and then dragged home by the dogs
on their long sleds when there was abundance of snow on the ground.
Sam asked for the privilege of accompanying Mustagan. As the walk was
only a few miles, the old Indian was pleased to have the bright young
paleface go with him. As they were to go through the forest, where
there was not as yet the first vestige of a trail, they at once strapped
on their snowshoes. Mustagan's only weapon was his axe, while Sam
carried a small rifle. Very much sooner than they had anticipated they
found a suitable grove, the limits of which Mustagan at once proceeded
to mark off with his axe. These few marks thus made on some of the
trees were all that was necessary to secure the property.
They had seen but little game, and so all that Sam had fired at had been
a passing rabbit or ptarmigan. While on the home trip a beautiful covey
of partridges came flying by them and lit in a large balsam tree but a
few hundred feet in front of them.
"I wish I had brought a shotgun instead of this rifle," said Sam. "I
think we might have had more than one of those partridges."
"Suppose we try and get them all without any gun," said Mustagan, in a
tone that seemed to indicate perfect confidence in the experiment.
"If we get two of them before they fly I will be delighted," said Sam,
as he raised his gun and tried to get a shot at two in a line. However,
before he could fire Mustagan quickly stopped him and said:
"No, no, not that way. I will show you how. Step back and keep still,
and see how our fathers used to get them before the white man's gun came
into the country."
Sam naturally thought of the bow and arrows, but as Mustagan had
[brought] none along he wondered if the old man was going to quickly try
and make some. In the meantime Mustagan had quietly slipped back into a
grove of tall, slender young trees that grew up like great fish poles.
Here he quickly cut down one that could be easily handed by a strong
man. This he rapidly trimmed of all its branches, and then quietly
returned with it to the spot where Sam was watching the birds. Stooping
down to one of his moccasined feet, Mustagan untied the deerskin string
with which the moccasin had been securely fastened around his ankle to
keep out the snow. Cutting off a piece about two feet long, he again
fastened up his shoe, and then, with the string thus secured, began to
make a snare out of it. He first tied one end of the string securely to
the smaller end of the long pole; then in the other end of the string he
made a running slip noose, which he arranged so that it would be about
four inches in diameter. Then began the strangest part of his
proceedings, and one only possible in a land of such intense cold.
Taking his hand out of his mitten, Mustagan wet his fingers with his
saliva and then immediately rubbed it on the deerskin string. As fast
as it was thus wet it froze as stiff as wire, and stood straight out
from the stick. Rapidly did the Indian thus wet the whole string, the
loop of the slip noose included, until the whole stood out as though
made of steel wire. Then, cautioning Sam not to move, Mustagan,
carrying his long pole with this uniquely formed noose on its end, moved
cautiously and quickly under the tree in which the partridges were still
sitting. Carefully he began raising up the pole until it was higher
than the head of the partridge nearest the ground. Then he deftly
brought it so that the noose was directly over the head of the bird.
With a quick jerk he pulled the pole down with the head of the bird in
the noose of the string, which, of course, tightened with the sudden
jerk. Mustagan quickly killed the bird by crushing in the skull. Then,
loosing it from the string, he rapidly went through the whole process
again of moistening the string with his saliva and arranging the noose
as before. In this way he succeeded in securing the whole covey of
those partridges. From his favourable position Sam watched the whole
operation, and was much delighted with the success of the old Indian,
who had in this way, without the loss of one charge of powder, or even
an arrow, secured ten or a dozen fine, plump partridges. On their way
home, in answer to Sam's many questions as to his reasons for adopting
this method of capturing the partridges, the Indian stated that the
secret of his success in getting them all was the fact that he began by
catching in his noose the bird lowest down. "When you do that," he
added, "the birds above think that as those below them go down they are
just flying to the ground to see what they can find to eat. Never take
a bird that is higher up in the tree than any other. If you do you get
no more. The rest will at once fly away."
Another bird that remains all winter in those cold North Lands is the
great snow-white owl. His wonderful covering of feathers, even down to
the toes, enables him to defy the severest frost. He generally sleeps
by day in some dense balsam tree, and then is ready, when the sun goes
down, for his nightly raids upon the rabbits and partridges. He is also
fond of mice, and as there are some varieties of these active little
creatures that run around a good deal even in the winter, and at night,
the owls are ever on the lookout for them, as well as are the foxes.
Sometimes these great white owls in their night huntings fly far away
from their usual resting places. Then they are in great trouble,
especially if there are no trees with dense branches among which they
can hide. If the bright sun happens to peep up over the horizon ere
they are safely stowed away in some shadowy place, they are at the mercy
of any foe. Sometimes they alight on the icy or snowy surface of the
lake. They are then easily captured.
When a clever Indian dog-driver sees one thus standing out on the ice he
quickly stops his dog-train, and, running toward the bewildered owl,
gets on the side on which the sun is shining. Then he makes sufficient
noise to keep the owl excited and looking toward him. In doing this the
owl has to let the bright, brilliant rays of the sun shine right into
his great, staring eyes. The man, with nothing but his long whip in his
hand, keeps approaching, taking care, however, that his shadow does not
fall on the bird. If he did, that instant the owl would be off. So the
man keeps enough to one side to have the owl always in the brilliant
light. The result is he does not see the approaching man. When near
enough the man uses his whip in such a way that the long lash winds
itself suddenly around the neck of the owl, and he is thus captured.
When better food is scarce these large owls are eaten by the Indians.
Some are so fond of them that they are ever on the lookout to capture
them. They have several methods by which they catch them. One is to
fasten an upright pole securely in the ice. On the top of this is
nailed a little board, and on this is set a steel trap or snare. The
owls get tired with their constant flying about, and, seeing this handy
resting place, are then quickly caught as they alight upon it. Another
method was explained to Sam by an old Indian hunter, and with some help
in securing the material they had a great deal of fun in trying it. The
first thing they did was to make a great black rag mouse about as big as
a beaver. To this was added a tail about five feet long. Then to the
nose of this great bogus mouse was attached one end of a large ball of
twine. This was the whole outfit, except, of course, the guns. One
evening an Indian arrived with the news that at a certain place the
great white owls had been seen in numbers, and perhaps it would be a
good place to go and see what could be done in capturing some. As it
was a very pleasant evening and the place mentioned was not very far
away, Sam had little Roderick packed with him in his cariole, and with
the mouse, ball of twine, and gun, and attended by one of the Indian
servants, they drove over to the spot. The big mouse was placed on the
snow as far out from the shore as the string would allow. The dogs with
the cariole were driven into the shadow of a large spruce tree that grew
on the very edge of the lake. Here the Indian, with Sam and Roderick,
although completely hidden in the shade, could see distinctly everything
outside, for the moon was now up and shining with wondrous beauty. For
a time they remained there under the tree in complete silence. Then the
clear vision of the Indian enabled him to be the first to detect the
presence of an owl.
"Hist!" he quietly uttered, and then as he pointed out the object they
were able to see a great owl sailing round and round up in the air,
perhaps fifty feet directly over the big black bogus mouse. Suddenly he
made a swift dive down for it. But at that instant the Indian, who had
hold of the end of the cord, gave it a sudden jerk and pulled the mouse
in a dozen feet or so nearer to them. This apparent big jump of the
mouse seemed to disconcert the owl, and so he quickly flew away. But it
was only for a moment, and then back he came. Round and round in
circles he flew, getting nearer and nearer all the time, when once more
he dashed down on the big mouse. But another sudden jerk had pulled the
mouse out of his reach, and so the owl failed once more.
"Get your gun ready," said the Indian to Sam; "he will be mad now, and
so we will soon have him near."
It was just as the Indian had predicted. The owl seemed angry at having
been fooled the second time, and so when he rose up again and saw that
great big mouse, which would, to judge by its size, make him such a
famous supper, he dashed at it again most savagely. But once more it
jumped away from him, as now the Indian kept pulling it in like a mouse
running away. Seeing this the owl lost all caution, and was soon within
range of Sam's gun, which speedily rang out its sharp report, and the
great ghostly bird fell suddenly on the ice not more than forty or fifty
feet away.
"Look out for his claws," said the Indian to Sam, who had at once rushed
out to secure his game. But the warning came too late. Sam, seeing
only the beautiful mass of white feathers and the great staring eyes,
had reached out his naked hand, from which had dropped his mitten, to
seize hold of the owl. But the savage bird lying there on its back was
only wounded, and so when Sam's hand was reached out to seize it the
very opposite happened, for the owl, with one of its terrible talons,
closed on Sam's hand with such a grip that the poor boy fairly howled
from the pain. The sharp claws had pierced him to the very bone, with a
grip he could not break. The Indian, however, quickly came to his
rescue, and pulling out his keen hunting knife he skillfully encircled
the owl's leg with its sharp edge. This severed every sinew and tendon,
and caused the claws to be so powerless that they could be easily pulled
out of Sam's mangled hand.
The owl was speedily killed, the wounded hand carefully wrapped up, and
the return to Sagasta-weekee was made as quickly as possible. For weeks
Sam suffered from his wounds ere they healed, and always after, although
he shot a number of owls in this and other ways, he took good care never
to let a naked hand come in contact with an owl's claws.
Poor little Roderick, who had gone out that evening in great expectancy
of a good time, had had his sympathies so aroused by Sam's howlings that
he began crying in sympathy, and kept it up until home was reached.