WOODCRAFT
Woodlore
_By Ernest Thompson Seton, Chief Scout_
The Watch for a Compass
(From "Boy Scouts of America," by Ernest Thompson Seton. Copyright,
1910, by Doubleday, Page & Company )
The watch is often used to give the compass point exactly. Thus: Point
the hour-hand to the sun; then, in the morning, half-way between the
hour-hand and noon is due south. If afternoon, one must reckon
half-way backward.
Thus: at 8 A. M., point the hour-hand to the sun and reckon forward
half-way to noon; the south is at 10. If at 4 P. M., point the
hour-hand at the sun and reckon back half-way. The south is at two
o'clock.
The "half-way" is because the sun makes a course of twenty-four hours
and the clock of but twelve. If we had a rational timepiece of
twenty-four hours, it would fit in much better with all nature, and
with the hour-hand pointed to the sun would make 12 o'clock, noon,
always south.
If you cannot see the sun, get into a clear, open space, hold your
knife point upright on your watch dial, and it will cast a faint
shadow, showing where the sun really is, unless the clouds are very
heavy.
Finding Your Latitude by the Stars
The use of the stars to the scout is chiefly to guide him by showing
the north, but the white man has carried the use a step farther: he
makes the Pole-star tell him not only where the north is, but where he
himself is. From the Pole-star, he can learn his latitude.
It is reckoned an exploit to take one's latitude from the North Star
with a cart-wheel, or with two sticks and a bucket of water.
{58}
The first attempt I made was with two sticks and a bucket of water. I
arranged the bucket in the daytime, so that it could be filled from
rim to rim; that is, it was level, and that gave me the horizon line;
next, I fastened my two sticks together at an adjustable angle. Then,
laying one stick across the bucket as a base, I raised the other till
the two sight notches on its upper edge were in straight line for the
Pole-star. The sticks were now fastened at this angle and put away
till the morning. On a smooth board--the board is allowable because it
can be found either far on the plains when you have your wagon, or on
the ship at sea--I mapped out, first a right angle, by the old plan of
measuring off a triangle, whose sides were six, eight, and ten inches,
and applied the star angle to this. By a process of equal subdivision
I got 45 degrees, 22-1/2 degrees, finally 40 degrees, which seemed to
be the latitude of my camp; subsequent looking-up showed it to be 41
degrees 10 minutes.
[Illustration: Bucket and sticks. (tr)]
Of course, it is hard to imagine that the boys will ever be so placed
that it is important for them to take their latitude with home-made
implements; but it is also hard to imagine circumstances under which
it would be necessary to know that the sun is 92,000,000 miles away.
It is very sure, however, that a boy who has once done this has a
larger idea of the world and its geography, and it is likely to help
him in realizing that there is some meaning to the lines and figures
on the border of his school maps, and that they are not put there
merely to add to his perplexities.
[Illustration: Sundial, or hunter's clock.]
{59}
To make a scout's sundial, prepare a smooth board about fifteen inches
across, with a circle divided into twenty-four equal parts, and a
temporarily hinged pointer, whose upper edge is in the middle of the
dial. Place on some dead level, solid post or stump in the open. At
night fix the dial so that the twelve o'clock line points exactly to
north, as determined by the Polestar. Then, using two temporary
sighting sticks of exactly the same height (so as to permit sighting
clear above the edge of the board) set the pointer exactly pointing to
the Pole-star; that is, the same angle as the latitude of the place,
and fix it there immovably. Then remove the two sighting sticks. As a
timepiece, this dial will be found roughly correct for that latitude.
The angle of the pointer, or style, must be changed for each latitude.
Building a Log Cabin
(From Country Life in America. May, 1905 )
There are as many different kinds of log cabins as of any other
architecture. It is best to begin with the simplest. The tools needed
are a sharp ax, a crosscut saw, an inch auger, and a spade. It is
possible to get along with nothing but an ax (many settlers had no
other tool), but the spade, saw, and auger save much work.
For the site select a high, dry place, in or near the woods, and close
to the drinking-water. It should be a sunny place, and with a view,
preferably one facing south or east. Clear off and level the ground.
Then bring your logs. These are more picturesque with the bark left
on, but last longer peeled. Eight feet by twelve feet outside makes a
good cabin for three or four boys.
Cut and carry about twelve logs, each ten feet long; and twelve more,
each fourteen feet long. The logs should be at least six inches
through. Soft wood is preferable, as it is easier to handle; the four
ground logs or sills, at least, should be of cedar, chestnut, or other
wood that does not rot. Lay two of the fourteen-foot logs on the
ground, at the places for the long sides, and seven feet apart. Then
across them, at the end, lay two short ones, eleven feet apart. This
leaves about a foot projecting from each log. Roll the last two into
their resting places, and flatten them till they sit firmly. It is of
prime importance that each log rest immovably on the one below. Now
cut the upper part of each end log, to an edge over each corner. (Fig.
1.)
{60}
[Illustration: Log cabin, figures 1 to 10.]
Next put on two long logs, roll them onto the middle, taking care to
change off, so the big end at a given comer may be followed next time
by the small end and insure the corner rising evenly. Roll one of
these large logs close to where it is to be placed, then cut on its
upper surface at each end a notch corresponding with the ridge on the
log it is to ride on. When ready, half a roll drops it into place. The
log should be one to three inches above the one under it, and should
not touch except at {61} the ends. Repeat the process now with the other
sides, then the two ends, etc., always keeping the line of the corner
plumb. As the walls rise, it will be found necessary to skid the
larger logs; that is, roll them up on two long logs, or skids, leaning
against the wall. (Fig. 2.)
When the logs are in place to the height of four and a half feet from
the ground, it is time to decide where the door and window are to be;
and at that place, while the next long log is lying on top, bottom up,
cut out a piece four feet long and four inches deep. Roll this log
into place. (Fig. 3.) One more log above this, or certainly two, will
make your shanty high enough for boys. Put on final end logs, then two
others across the shanty. (Fig. 4.) Roll up the biggest, strongest log
of all for the ridge (sometimes two are used side by side); it should
lie along the middle of the four cross pieces shown in Fig. 4.
The two cross logs, B and C, and the ridge log should be very strong,
as the roof is heavy. Now we are ready to cut the doorway and window.
First, drive in blocks of wood between each of the logs, all the way
down from A to the ground, and from B down to D, and C to E. (Fig. 5.)
Saw down now from A half-way through the ground log F. Then from B
down to half-way through the log D; now continue from G, cutting down
to half through the ground log. Use the ax to split out the upper half
of the ground log, between the saw-cuts and also the upper half of the
log D.
Hew a flat piece of soft wood, five or six inches wide, about two
inches thick, and as long as the height of this doorway. Set it up
against the ends of the logs A to F. Bore an auger hole through it
into the end of each log (these holes must not be in line lest they
split the jamb), including the top and bottom ones, and drive into
each a pin of oak. This holds all safely. Do the same on the other
side, H to E, and put a small one down B, D, which is the side of the
window.
Now we are ready to finish the roof. Use the ax to bevel off the
corners of the four cross-logs, A and B. (Fig. 6.) Then get a lot of
strong poles, about five feet long, and lay them close together along
the two sides of the roof till it is covered with poles; putting a
very heavy one, or small log, on the outer edge of each, and fastening
it down with a pin into the ridge log. Cut two long poles and lay one
on each of the lower ends of the roof poles, as at A, B, and C (Fig.
7), pinning them to the side logs.
Cover this roof with a foot of hay or straw or grass, and cover {62}
that again evenly with about four inches of stiff clay. Pack this
down. It will soon squeeze all that foot of straw down to little more
than one inch, and will make a warm and water-tight roof. As the clay
is very heavy, it is wise, before going inside, to test the roof by
jumping on it. If it gives too much, it will be well to add a centre
prop.
Now for the door: Hew out planks; two should be enough. Fasten these
together with two cross-pieces and one angle-piece, using oak pegs
instead of nails, if you wish to be truly primitive. For these the
holes should be bored part way with a gimlet, and a peg used larger
than the hole. The lower end of the back plank is left projecting in a
point. (Fig. 8.) This point fits into a hole pecked with a point or
bored with an auger into the door-sill.
Bore another hole near the top of the door (A), and a corresponding
one through the door-jamb between two logs. Set the door in place. A
strip of rawhide leather, a limber willow branch, or a strip of
hickory put through the auger hole of the door and wedged into the
hole in the jamb, makes a truly wild-wood hinge. A peg in the front
jamb prevents the door going too far out, and a string and peg inside
answer for a latch.
The window opening may be closed with a glass sash, with a piece of
muslin, or with the rawhide of an animal, scraped clear of hair and
stretched on a frame.
It now remains to chink and plaster the place.
Chinking is best done from the inside. Long triangular strips and
blocks of wood are driven in between the logs and fastened there with
oak pins driven into the lower log till nothing but small crannies
remain. Some cabins are finished with moss plugged into all the
crannies, but mud worked into plaster does better.
It should be put on the outside first, and afterward finished form the
inside. It is best done really with two plasterers working together,
one inside and one out.
This completes the shanty, but a bunk and fireplace are usually added.
The fireplace may be in one corner, or in the middle of the end. It is
easiest to make in the former.
Across the corner, peg three angle braces, each about three feet long.
These are to prevent the chimney falling forward.
Now begin to build with stone, using mud as mortar, a fireplace this
shape. (Fig. 9.) Make the opening about eighteen inches across; carry
it up two feet high, drawing it in a little, then lay a long stone
across the front, after which build up {63} the flue behind the corner
braces right up to the roof. The top corner-piece carries the rafter
that may be cut off to let the flue out. Build the chimney up outside
as high as the highest part of the ridge.
But the ideal fireplace is made with the chimney on the outside of the
cabin, at the middle of the end farthest from the door. For this you
must cut a hole in the end log, like a big, low window, pegging a jamb
on the ends as before.
With stones and mud you now build a fireplace inside the shanty, with
the big chimney carried up outside, always taking care that there are
several inches of mud or stone between the fire and any of the logs.
In country where stone cannot be found, the fireplace is often built
of mud, sustained by an outside cribbing of logs.
If the flue is fair size, that is, say one quarter the size of the
fireplace opening, it will be sure to draw.
The bunk should be made before the chinks are plastered, as the
hammering is apt to loosen the mud.
Cut eight or ten poles a foot longer than you need the bunk; cut the
end of each into a flat board and drive these between the long logs at
the right height and place for the bunk, supporting the other end on a
crosspiece from a post to the wall. Put a very big pole on the outer
side, and all is ready for the bed; most woodsmen make this of small
fir boughs.
There are two other well-known ways of cornering the logs--one is
simply flattening the logs where they touch. This, as well as the
first one, is known in the backwoods of Canada as hog-pen finish. The
really skilful woodsmen of the North always dovetail the comers and
saw them flush: (Fig. 10)
Sometimes it is desirable to make a higher gable than that which one
ridge log can make. Then it is made thus: (Fig. 11.) This is as much
slope as a clay roof should have; with any more, the clay would wash
off.
This is the simplest way to build a log-cabin, but it illustrates all
the main principles of log building. Shingle roofs and gables, broad
piazzas outside, and modern fitting inside, are often added nowadays in
summer camps, but it must be clear that the more towny you make the
cabin, the less woodsy it is, and less likely to be the complete rest
and change that is desired.
For fuller instructions, see "Log-Cabins and Cottages." By. Wm. S.
Wicks, 1900. (Pub. Forest and Stream, N. Y.) {64} Also, "The Jack of
All Trades." By Dan C. Beard, Scribner's; and "Field and Forest Handy
Book."
Measuring Distances
(See "Two Little Savages," 1903.)
The height of a tree is easily measured when on a level, open place,
by measuring the length of its shadow, then comparing that with your
own shadow, or that of a ten-foot pole.
Thus, the ten-foot pole is casting a fifteen-foot shadow, and the
tree's shadow is one hundred and fifty feet long, apply the simple
rule of three.
15 : 150 :: 10 : x = 100
But it is seldom so easy, and the good old rule of the triangle can be
safely counted on: Get a hundred or more feet from your tree, on open
ground, as nearly as possible on the level of its base. Set up a
ten-foot pole (A B, page 65). Then mark the spot where the exact line
from the top of the tree over the top of the pole touches the ground
(C). Now measure the distance from that spot (C) to the foot of the
ten-foot pole (B); suppose it is twenty feet. Measure also the
distance from that spot (C) to the base of the tree (D); suppose it is
one hundred and twenty feet, then your problem is:
20 : 10 :: 120 : x = 60
i.e., if at that angle twenty feet from the eye gives ten feet
elevation, one hundred and twenty feet must give sixty.
_To make a right angle_, make a triangle whose sides are exactly six,
eight, and ten feet or inches each (or multiples of these). The angle
opposite the ten must be a true right angle.
[Illustration: To make a right angle.]
There are many ways of measuring distance across rivers, etc., without
crossing. The simplest, perhaps, is by the equilateral triangle. Cut
three poles of exactly equal length; peg them together into a
triangle. Lay {65} this on the bank of the river so one side points to
some point on the opposite bank. Drive in three pegs to mark the exact
points of this triangle (A,B,C). Then move it along the bank until you
find a place (F,E,G) where its base is on line with the two pegs,
where the base used to be, and one side in line with the point across
the river (D). The width of the river is seven eighths of the base of
this great triangle.
[Illustration: Measuring the width of a river by sighting with
a triangle. (tr)]
Another method is by the isosceles triangle. Make a right-angled
triangle as above, with sides six, eight, and ten feet (A,B,C); then,
after firmly fixing the right angle, cut down the eight-foot side to
six feet and saw off the ten-foot side to fit. Place this with the
side D B on the river bank in line with the sight object (X) across.
Put three pegs to mark the three {66} corner places. Then take the
triangle along the bank in the direction of C until C' D' are in line
with the sight object, while B' C' is in line with the pegs B C. Then
the length of the long base B C' will equal the distance from B to X.
[Illustration: Measuring height of tree.]
[Illustration: Measuring the distance between two distant objects.]
To measure the space between two distant objects, D and E. Line A B on
one, then move this right-angled triangle until F G is lined on the
other, with B G in line with G H. B G equals the space between D and E
then.
If the distance is considerable, it may be measured sometimes by
sound. Thus, when a gun is fired, a man is chopping, or a dog barking,
count the seconds between the sight and the hearing of the sound, and
multiply by eleven hundred feet, which is the distance sound travels
in a second.
[Illustration: To climb a tree that is too thick--Place small tree
against it.]
{67}
Occasionally, the distance of an upright bank, cliff, or building can
be measured by the echo. Half the seconds between shout and echo,
multiplied by eleven hundred gives the distance in feet.
The usual way to estimate long distances is by the time they take to
cover. Thus, a good canoe on dead water goes four to five miles an
hour. A man afoot walks three and a half miles an hour on good roads.
A packtrain goes two and a half miles an hour, or perhaps one and a
half on the mountain trails.
A man's thumb is an inch wide.
Span of thumb and longest finger, nine inches. Brisk walking pace is
one yard for men.
What To Do When Lost in the Woods
(Ladies' Home Journal, October, 1902.)
"Did you ever get lost in the woods?" I once asked a company of twenty
campers. Some answered, "Yes; once or twice." Others said, "Many a
time." Only two said, "No, never." Then I said, turning to the two, "I
know that all the others here have had plenty of experience, and that
you two are the tenderfeet, and never lived in the woods."
It is quite certain to come sooner or later; if you go camping, you
will get lost in the woods. Hunters, Indians, yes, birds and beasts,
get lost at times. You can avoid it for long by always taking your
bearings and noting the landscape before leaving the camp, and this
you should always do; but still you will get lost some time, and it is
well to be ready for it by carrying matches, knife, and compass.
When you do miss your way, the first thing to remember is, like the
Indian, "You are not lost; it is the teepee that is lost." It isn't
serious. It cannot be so unless you do something foolish.
The first and most natural thing to do is to get on a hill, up a tree,
or other high lookout, and seek for some landmark near camp. You may
be sure of this much:
You are not nearly so far from camp as you think you are. Your friends
will soon find you.
You can help them best by signaling.
The worst thing you can do is to get frightened. The truly dangerous
enemy is not the cold or the hunger so much as the fear. It is fear
that robs the wanderer of his judgment and of his limb power; it is
fear that turns the passing experience into a final tragedy. Only keep
cool and all will be well.
{68}
If there is snow on the ground, you can follow your back track.
If you see no landmark, look for the smoke of the fire. Shout from
time to time, and wait; for though you have been away for hours it is
quite possible you are within earshot of your friends. If you happen
to have a gun, fire it off twice in quick succession on your high
lookout; then wait and listen. Do this several times and wait plenty
long enough--perhaps an hour. If this brings no help, send up a
distress signal--that is, make two smoke fires by smothering two
bright fires with green leaves and rotten wood, and keep them at least
fifty feet apart, or the wind will confuse them. Two shots or two
smokes are usually understood to mean "I am in trouble." Those in camp
on seeing this should send up one smoke, which means, "Camp is here."
If you have a dog or a horse with you, you may depend upon it he can
bring you out all right; but usually you will have to rely on
yourself. The simplest plan, when there is fresh snow and no wind, is
to follow your own track back. No matter how far around or how crooked
it may be, it will certainly bring you out safely.
If you are sure of the general direction to the camp and determined to
keep moving, leave a note pinned on a tree if you have paper; if not,
write with charcoal on a piece of wood, and also make a good smoke, so
that you can come back to this spot if you choose. But make certain
that the fire cannot run, by clearing the ground around it and by
banking it around with sods. And mark your course by breaking or
cutting a twig every fifty feet. You can keep straight by the sun, the
moon, or the stars, but when they are unseen you must be guided by the
compass. I do not believe much in guidance by what are called nature's
compass signs. It is usual to say, for example, that the north side of
the tree has the most moss or the south side the most limbs, etc.
While these are true in general, there are so many exceptions that
when alarmed and in doubt as to which is north, one is not in a frame
of mind to decide with certainty on such fine points.
If a strong west wind, for example, was blowing when you left camp,
and has blown ever since, you can be pretty sure it is still a west
wind; but the only safe and certain natural compass guides are the
sun, moon, and stars.
The Pole or North Star, and the Great Bear (also called the Dipper and
the Pointers), should be known to every boy as they are to every
Indian. The Pointers always point out the {69} Pole-star. Of course,
they go around it once in twenty-four hours, so this makes a kind of
clock.
The stars, then, will enable you to keep straight if you travel. But
thick woods, fog, or clouds are apt to come up, and without something
to guide you are sure to go around in a circle.
Old woodsmen commonly follow down the streams. These are certain to
bring you out somewhere; but the very worst traveling is along the
edges of the streams, and they take you a long way around. All things
considered, it is usually best to stay right where you are, especially
if in a wild country where there is no chance of finding a farm house.
Make yourself comfortable for the night by gathering plenty of good
wood while it is daylight, and building a wind screen on three sides,
with the fire in front, and something to keep you off the ground. Do
not worry but keep up a good fire; and when day comes renew your two
smokes and wait. A good fire is the best friend of a lost man.
I have been lost a number of times, but always got out without serious
trouble, because I kept cool. The worst losing I ever got was after I
had been so long in the West that I qualified to act as a professional
guide, and was engaged by a lot of Eastern farmers looking for land
locations.
This was in the October of 1883 on the Upper Assiniboin. The main body
of the farmers had remained behind. I had gone ahead with two of them.
I took them over hundreds of miles of wild country. As we went
northward the country improved. We were traveling with oxen, and it
was our custom to let them graze for two hours at noon. One warm day,
while the oxen were feeding, we went in our shirt sleeves to a distant
butte that promised a lookout. We forgot about the lateness till the
sun got low. Even then I could have got back to camp, but clouds came
up and darkness fell quickly. Knowing the general direction I kept on,
and after half an hour's tramp we came to a canyon I had never seen
before. I got out my compass and a match and found that I had been
circling, as one is sure to do in the dark. I corrected the course and
led off again. After another brief turn I struck another match and
learned from the compass that I was again circling. This was
discouraging, but with corrected course we again tramped. I was
leading, and suddenly the dark ground ten feet ahead of me turned
gray. I could not make it out, so went cautiously nearer. I lay down,
reached forth, and then slowly made sure that we were on the edge of a
steep precipice. I backed off, {70} and frankly told the men I did not
know where we were. I got out my match box and compass and found I had
but one match left.
"Any of you got any matches?" I asked. "No; left 'em all in our
coats," was their answer.
"Well," said I, "I have one. Shall I use it to get a new course from
the compass, or shall we make a fire and stay here till morning?"
All voted to camp for the night. There was now a cold rain.
We groped into a hollow where we got some dead wood, and by using our
knives got some dry chips from the inside of a log. When all was ready
we gathered close around, and I got out the one match. I was about to
strike it when the younger of the men said:
"Say, Seton, you are not a smoker; Jack is. Hadn't you better give him
that match?"
There was sense in this. I have never in my life smoked. Jack was an
old stager and an adept with matches. I handed it to him.
"Rrrp-fizz"--and in a minute we had a fire.
With the help of the firelight we now found plenty of dead wood; we
made three blazing fires side by side, and after an hour we removed
the centre one, then raked away all the hot ashes, and all lay down
together on the warm ground. When the morning came the rain ceased. We
stretched our stiffened limbs and made for camp. Yes, there it was in
plain view two miles away across a fearful canyon. Three steps more on
that gloomy night and we should have been over the edge of that canyon
and dashed to the bottom.
How to Make Fire by Rubbing Sticks
"How do the Indians make a fire without matches?" asked a boy who
loved to "play Indian." Most of us have heard the answer to this. "The
Indians use a flint and steel, as our own fathers and mothers did one
hundred years ago, and before they had flint and steel they used
rubbing-sticks." We have all read about bringing fire out of two
sticks by rubbing them together. I tried it once for an hour, and I
know now I never would have got it in a thousand years as I was doing
it. Others have had the same experience; consequently, most persons
look upon this as a sort of fairy tale, or, if they believe it to be
true, they think it so difficult as to be worth no second thought. All
scouts, I find, are surprised and greatly interested to learn that not
only is it possible, it is easy, to make a friction {71} fire, if you
know how; and hopeless, if you don't. I have taught many boys and men
(including some Indians) to do it, and some have grown so expert that
they make it nearly as quickly as with an old-fashioned sulphur match.
When I first learned from Walter Hough, who learned from the Indians,
it took me from five to ten minutes to get a blazing fire--not half an
hour, as some books have it. But later I got it down to a minute, then
to thirty-one seconds from the time of taking up the rubbing-sticks to
having a fine blaze, the time in getting the first spark being about
six seconds.
My early efforts were inspired by book accounts of Indian methods,
but, unfortunately, I have never yet seen a book account that was
accurate enough to guide anyone successfully in the art of
fire-making. All omit one or other of the absolute essentials, or
dwell on some triviality. The impression they leave on those who know
is that the writers did not.
The surest and easiest method of making a friction fire is by use of
the bow-drill. Two sticks, two tools, and some tinder are needed.
The two sticks are the drill and the fire-board, or fire-block. The
books generally tell us that these must be of different kinds of wood.
This is a mistake. I have uniformly gotten the best results with two
pieces of the same kind--all the better, indeed, if they are parts of
the same stick.
What Kind of Wood
This is a very important question, as woods that are too hard, too
soft, too wet, too oily, too gummy, or too resinous will not produce
fire. The wood should be soft enough to wear away, else it produces no
punk, and hard enough to wear slowly, or the heat is not enough to
light the punk, and, of course, it should be highly inflammable. Those
that I have had the best luck with are balsam fir, cottonwood roots,
tamarack, European larch, red cedar, white cedar, Oregon cedar,
basswood, cypress, and sometimes second-growth white pine. It should
always be a dry, sound stick, brash, but not in the least punky.
In each part of the country there seems to be a kind of wood well
suited for fire-making. The Eastern Indians used cedar; the Northern
Indians, cedar or balsam fir; the plains Indians used cottonwood or
sage-brush roots.
Perhaps the most reliable of all is dry and seasoned balsam fir;
either the species in the North woods or in the Rockies will do. It
gives a fine big spark or coal in about seven seconds.
{72}
When in the grinding the dust that runs out of the notch is coarse and
brown, it means that the wood is too soft; when it is very fine and
scanty it means that the wood is too hard.
[Illustration: The rubbing-sticks for fire-making.]
1. The simplest kind of bow; a bent stick with a stout leather thong
fastened at each end. It is about 27 inches long and 5/8 inch thick.
2. A more elaborate bow with a hole at each end for the thong. At the
handle end it goes through a disc of wood. This is to tighten the
thong by pressure of the hand against the disc while using.
3. Simplest kind of drill-socket; a pine or hemlock knot with a
shallow hole or pit in it. 3a is under view of same. It is about 4-1/2
inches long.
4. A more elaborate drill-socket; a pebble cemented with gum in a
wooden holder. 4a is under view of same.
5. A very elaborate drill-socket; it is made of tulip wood, carved to
represent the Thunderbird. It has eyes of green felspar cemented in
with resin. On the under side (5a) is seen, in the middle, a soapstone
socket let into the wood and fastened with pine gum, and on the head a
hole kept filled with grease, to grease the top of the drill before
use.
6. The drill; 12 to 18 inches long and about 3/4 inch thick; it is
roughly eight-sided so the thong will not slip, and pointed at each
end. The best wood for the drill is old, dry brash, but not punky,
balsam fir or cottonwood roots; but basswood, white cedar, red cedar,
tamarack, and sometimes even white pine, will do.
7. Fire-board or block; about 3/4 inch thick and any length handy; a
is notch with pit just begun, b shows the pit after once using and in
good trim for second time, c shows the pit bored through and now
useless; the notch is 1/2 inch wide and 3/4 inch deep.
8. Shows the way of using the sticks. The block (a) is held down with
one foot, the end of the drill (b) is put in the pit, the drill-socket
(c) is held on top in left hand, one end of the bow (d) is held in the
right hand, while the bow is drawn back and forth.
9. Is a little wooden fire-pan, not essential but convenient; its thin
edge is put under the notch to catch the powder that falls.
{73}
I have made many experiments to determine whether there is anything in
the idea that it is better to have the block and the drill of
different woods.
But no hybrid combination was so successful as "two of a kind."
The drill and the bow and socket are fully described in the
illustration.
The preparing of the fire-board is one of the most important things.
At the edge cut a notch half an inch wide and about three fourths of
an inch deep; at the top of this notch make a pit or shallow hole, and
the board is ready. The importance of this notch is such that it is
useless to try fire-making without it.
While these are the essentials, it is well to get ready, also, some
tinder. I have tried a great many different kinds of lint and punk,
including a number that were artificially prepared, soaked with
saltpetre or other combustibles. But these are not really fair play.
The true woodcrafter limits himself to the things that he can get in
the woods, and in all my recent fire-making I have contented myself
with the tinder used for ages by the red men: that is, cedar wood
finely shredded between two stones. Some use the fringes that grow on
birch, improving it by rubbing in powdered charcoal.
Now that he has the tools and material ready, it will be an easy
matter for the matchless castaway to produce a fire.
Pass the leather thong once around the drill--and this should make the
thong taut; put the lower point of the drill in the pit at the top of
the notch in the fire-board, and hold the socket with the left hand on
top of the drill. The notch of the fire-board should be resting on a
chip or thin wooden tray. Hold the bow by the handle end in the right
hand, steady the board under the left foot, and the left arm against
the left knee. Now draw the bow back and forth with steady, even
strokes, its full length. This causes the drill to turn in the pit and
bore into the wood; ground-up wood runs out of the side of the notch,
falling on the chip or tray. At first it is brown; in two or three
seconds it turns black, and then smokes; in five or six seconds it is
giving off a cloud of smoke. A few more vigorous strokes of the bow,
and now it will be found that smoke still comes from the pile of black
wood-dust on the chip. Fan this gently with the hand; the smoke
increases, and in a few seconds you see a glowing coal in the middle
of the dust. (There are never any visible flying sparks.)
Now take a liberal pinch of the cedar tinder--about a teaspoonful;
wrap this in some bark fibre or shredded rope to {74} keep it from
blowing away. Hold it down on the coal, and, lifting tray and all,
blow or fan it until in a few seconds it blazes. Carefully pile over
it the shreds of birch bark or splinters of fat pine prepared
beforehand, and the fire is made.
If you have the right wood and still cannot get the fire, it is likely
because you do not hold the drill steady, or have not cut the side
notch quite into the middle point of the little fire pit.
The advantages of learning this method are threefold:
First: Fire-making by friction is an interesting experiment in
woodcraft.
Second: A boy is better equipped having learned it. He can never
afterward freeze to death for lack of matches if he has wood and an
old shoe lace.
Third: For the very reason that it is difficult, compared with
matches, it tends to prevent the boys making unnecessary fires, and
thus reduces the danger of their setting the woods ablaze or of
smoking the forbidden cigarette.
There is such a fascination in making the rubbing-stick fire that one
of my Western cooks, becoming an expert, gave up the use of matches
for a time and lit his morning fire with the fire-drill, and, indeed,
he did not find it much slower than the usual way.
Walter Hough told me a story of an Apache Indian who scoffed at the
matches of white men, and claimed that he could light a fire with
rubbing-sticks faster than Hough could with matches. So each made
ready. They were waiting for the word "go" when the Indian said:
"Wait. I see if him right." He gave a few strokes with the drill, and
called--"Stop--stop him no good." He rearranged the sticks, and tried
a few more strokes. Just as Mr. Hough was going to strike the match,
he said: "Stop--stop him no good." He did this three times before he
called "Ready." Then the word "Go" was given. The white man struck the
slow, sizzling match. The Indian gave half a dozen twirls to the
drill--the smoke burst forth. He covered it with the tinder, fanned a
few seconds, then a bright flame arose, just before the white man got
his twigs ablaze. So the Indian won, but it was by an Indian trick;
for the three times when he pretended to be trying it, he was really
warming up the wood--that is, doing a large part of the work. I am
afraid that, deft as he was, he would have lost in a fair race. Yet
this incident shows at least that, in point of speed, the old
rubbing-sticks are not very far behind the matches, as one might have
supposed.
{75}
It is, indeed, a wonder that the soldiers at West Point are not taught
this simple trick, when it is so easily learned, and might some day be
the one thing to save the lives of many of them.
Archery
No woodcraft education is complete without a knowledge of archery. It
is a pity that this noble sport has fallen into disuse. We shall find
it essential to some of our best games.
The modern hunting gun is an irresistible weapon of wholesale murder,
and is just as deadly no matter who pulls the trigger. It spreads
terror as well as death by its loud discharge, and it leaves little
clew as to who is responsible for the shot. Its deadly range is so
fearfully great as to put all game at the mercy of the clumsiest tyro.
Woodcraft, the oldest of all sciences and one of the best, has
steadily declined since the coming of the gun, and it is entirely due
to this same unbridled power that America has lost so many of her fine
game animals.
The bow is a far less destructive weapon, and to succeed at all in the
chase the bowman must be a double-read forester. The bow is silent and
it sends the arrow with exactly the same power that the bowman's arm
puts into it--no more, no less--so it is really his own power that
speeds the arrow. There is no question as to which hunter has the
right to the game or is responsible for the shot when the arrow is
there to tell. The gun stands for little skill, irresistible force
supplied from an outside source, overwhelming unfair odds, and sure
death to the victim. The bow, on the other hand, stands for all that
is clever and fine in woodcraft; so, no guns or fire-arms of any kind
are allowed in our boy scout camp.
The Indian's bow was short, because, though less efficient, it was
easier to carry than a long one. Yet it did not lack power. It is said
that the arrow head sometimes appeared on the far side of the buffalo
it was fired into, and there is a tradition that Wah-na-tah, a Sioux
chief, once shot his arrow through a cow buffalo and killed her calf
that was running at the other side.
But the long bow is more effective than the short one. The old English
bowmen, the best the world has ever seen, always shot with the long
bow.
The finest bows and arrows are those made by the professional makers,
but there is no reason why each boy should not make his own.
According to several authorities the best bow woods are mulberry,
osage-orange, sassafras, Southern cedar, black locust, {76} apple,
black walnut, slippery elm, ironwood, mountain ash, hickory,
California yew, and hemlock.
Take a perfectly sound, straight, well-seasoned stick five or six feet
long (your bow should be about as long as yourself); mark off a
five-inch space in the middle for the handle; leave this round and a
full inch thick; shave down the rest, flat on one side for the front
and round on the other for the back, until it is about one inch wide
and three fourths of an inch thick next the handle, tapering to about
one half that at the ends, which are then "nocked," nicked, or notched
as shown in Cut I. These notches are for the string, which is to be
put on early. Draw the bow now, flat side out, not more than the
proper distance, and note carefully which end bends the most; then
shave down the other side until it bends evenly. The middle scarcely
bends at all. The perfect shape, when bent, is shown in Cut II. Trim
the bow down to your strength and finish smoothly with sandpaper and
glass. It should be straight when unstrung, and unstrung when not in
use. Fancy curved bows are weak affairs. The bow for our boy should
require a power of fifteen or twenty pounds (shown on a spring
balance) to draw the string twenty-three inches from the bow; not
more. The best string is of hemp or linen; it should be about five
inches from the middle of the bow when strung (Cut II). The notches
for the string should be two-thirds the depth of the string. If you
have not a bought string make one of strong, unbleached linen thread
twisted together. At one end the string, which is heaviest at the
ends, should be fast knotted to the bow notch (Cut V); at the other it
should have a loop as shown in Cut IV. In the middle it should be
lashed with fine silk and wax for five inches, and the exact place
marked where the arrow fits it.
The arrow is more important than the bow. Anyone can make a bow; few
can make an arrow, for, as a Seminole Indian expressed it to Maurice
Thompson, "Any stick do for bow; good arrow much heap work, ugh."
Hiawatha went all the way to Dakota to see the famous arrow maker. In
England when the bow was the gun of the country, the bow maker was
called a "bowyer," and the arrow maker a "fletcher" (from the Norman
fleche, an arrow). So when men began to use surnames those who
excelled in arrow making were proud to be called the "Fletchers "; but
to make a good bow was not a notable achievement, hence few took
"Bowyer" as their name.
The first thing about an arrow is that it must be perfectly straight.
"Straight as an arrow" refers to the arrow itself, not to its flight;
that is always curved.
{77}
[Illustration: THE ARCHERY OUTFIT (Not all on scale.)]
I. The five-foot bow as finished, with sections at the point shown.
II. The bow "braced" or strung.
III. The bow unstrung, showing the loop slipped down.
IV. The loop that is used on the upper end of the bow.
V. The timber hitch always used on the lower end or notch of the bow.
VI. A turkey feather with split midrib, all ready to lash on.
VII. End view of arrow, showing notch and arrangement of three feathers.
VIII. Part of arrow, showing feathering and lashing.
IX. Sanger hunting arrow with wooden point; 25 inches long.
X. Sanger war arrow with nail point and extra long feathers;
it also is 25 inches long.
XI. Quiver with Indian design; 20 inches long.
XII. The "bracer" or arm guard of heavy leather for left arm with
two laces to tie it on. It is six inches long.
{78}
The Indians made arrows of reeds and of straight shoots of viburnum or
arrow-wood, and of elder, but we make better arrows out of the solid
heartwood of hard pine for target use, and of hickory or ash for
hunting. The arrow should be twenty-five inches long, round, and three
eighths of an inch thick, and have three feathers set as shown in Cut
VI, about an inch from the notch. The feather B, that stands out at
right angles to notch A, should always be away from the bow in
shooting. This is called the cock-feather, and it is usually marked or
colored in some way to be quickly distinguished.
[Illustration: CORRECT FORM IN SHOOTING. The diagram at bottom is to
show the centres of heels in line with target.]
Turkey and goose wing feathers are the best that grow in our country
for arrow feathers. The Indians mostly use turkey. With a sharp knife
cut a strip of the midrib on which is the vane of the feather; make
three pieces, each two to three inches long. White men glue these on
to the arrow. The Indians leave the midrib projecting at each end and
by these lash the {79} feathers without gluing. The lashed feathers
stand the weather better than those glued, but do not fly so well. The
Indians use sharp flint arrow heads for war and for big game, but for
birds and small game they make arrow heads with a knob of hard wood or
the knuckle bone of some small animal. The best arrow heads for our
purpose are like the ferrule of an umbrella top; they receive the end
of the shaft into them and keep it from splitting.
One of the best arrows I ever shot with was twenty-eight inches long,
five sixteenths of an inch thick, had a ferrule head and very small
feathers.
The finishing touch of an arrow is "painting" it. This is done for
several purposes: First, to preserve it from damp which would twist
the arrow and soften the glue that holds the feathers; second, each
hunter paints all his arrows with his mark so as to know them; third,
they are thus made bright-colored to help in finding them when lost.
There are four other things required by our archer: A smooth, hard
arm-guard, or bracer, usually of hard leather. The Indians who use one
make it of wood, grass, or rawhide. In photographs of famous Indians
you may often see this on the left wrist, and will remember that it
was there as a protection from the blow of the bow cord. Some archers
can shoot with the wrist bent so as to need no guard. The three middle
fingers of the right hand also need protection. An old leather glove,
with thumb and little finger cut away, will do very well for this,
though the ready-made tips at the archery stores are more convenient.
Some archers who practise all their lives can shoot without protecting
the fingers.
The bow case and quiver are important. Any kind of a cover that will
keep them from the rain, and hang on your back, will do, but there are
many little things that help to make them handy. When the cover is off
the arrows should project three or four inches so that they may be
more easily drawn out. The Indians often carried very beautiful
quivers of buckskin ornamented with quills and beads.
One day out West I saw an Omaha brave with a bow case and quiver
covered with very odd material--a piece of common red and white cotton
print. When allowed to examine it, I felt some other material
underneath the print. After a little dickering he sold me bow, arrows,
quiver, and all for a couple of dollars. I then ripped open the print
and found my first suspicions confirmed; for, underneath, the quiver
was of buckskin, beautifully embroidered with red feathers and
porcupine {80} quills of deep red and turquoise blue. The Indian was as
much puzzled by my preference for the quill work as I was by his for
the cotton print.
The standard target for men is four feet across with a nine-inch
bull's-eye, and around that four rings, each four and three quarter
inches wide. The bull's-eye counts nine, the other rings seven, five,
three, one. The bought targets are made of straw, but a good target
may be made of a box filled with sods, or a bank covered with sacking
on which are painted the usual rings.
Now comes the most important point of all--how to shoot. There are
several ways of holding an arrow, but only one good one. Most boys
know the ordinary finger and thumb pinch, or grip. This is all very
well for a toy bow, but a hunter's bow cannot be drawn that way. No
one has strength enough in his fingers for it. The true archer's grip
of the arrow is shown in the cut. The thumb and little finger have
nothing to do with it.
[Illustration: The archer's grip.]
As in golf and all such things, there is a right "form." You attend to
your end of the arrow's flight and the other will take care of itself:
Stand perfectly straight. Plant your feet with the centres of the two
heels in line with the target. (Cut page 78.) Grasp the bow in the
middle with the left hand and place the arrow on the string at the
left side of the bow. Hold the bow plumb, and draw as above till the
notch of the arrow is right under your eye, and the head of the arrow
back to the bow. The right elbow must be in the same line with the
arrow. Let go the arrow by straightening the fingers a little, turning
the hand outward at the bottom and drawing it back one inch. Always do
this in exactly the same way and your shooting will be even. Your left
hand should not move a hair's breadth until the arrow strikes the
target.
To begin shooting put the target very near, within fifteen or twenty
yards; but the proper shooting distance when the archer is in good
practice is forty yards for a four-foot target and thirty yards for a
three-foot target. A good shot, shooting twelve arrows at this, should
score fifty.
{81}
The Indians generally used their bows at short range, so that it was
easy to hit the mark. Rapid firing was important. In their archery
competitions, therefore, the prize was given to the one who could have
the most arrows in the air at once. Their record, according to Catlin,
was eight.
The Stars
As Seen With the Naked Eye
The chief works referred to in this are C. Flammarion's "Popular
Astronomy" (Gore's translation), and Garrett P. Serviss's "Astronomy
with an Opera Glass." (Those who wish to go farther a-sky are referred
to these books.)
Whether he expects to use them as guides or not, every boy should
learn the principal constellations and the important stars. A
non-scientific friend said to me once: "I am always glad that I
learned the principal star groups when I was young. I have never
forgotten them, and, no matter in what strange country I find myself,
I can always look up at night, and see the old familiar stars that
shone on me in my home in my own country."
All American boys know the Dipper or Great Bear. This is, perhaps, the
most important star group in our sky, because of its size, peculiar
form, and the fact that it never sets in our latitude, and last, that
it always points out the Pole-star, and, for this reason, it is
sometimes known as the Pointers. It is called the Dipper because it is
shaped like a dipper with a long, bent handle. Why it is called the
Great Bear is not so easy to explain. The classical legend has it that
the nymph Calisto, having violated her vow, was changed by Diana into
a bear, which, after death, was immortalized in the sky by Zeus.
Another suggestion is that the earliest astronomers, the Chaldeans,
called these stars "the shining ones," and their word happened to be
very like the Greek arktos (a bear). Another explanation (I do not
know who is authority for either) is that vessels in olden days were
named for animals, etc. They bore at the prow the carved effigy of the
namesake, and if the Great Bear, for example, made several very happy
voyages by setting out when a certain constellation was in the
ascendant, that constellation might become known as the Great Bear's
constellation. Certainly, there is nothing in its shape to justify the
name. Very few of the constellations, indeed, are like the thing they
are {82} called after. Their names were usually given for some fanciful
association with the namesake, rather than for resemblance to it.
The Pole-star is really the most important of the stars in our sky; it
marks the north at all times; it alone is fixed in the heavens: all
the other stars seem to swing around it once in twenty-four hours. It
is in the end of the Little Bear's tail. But the Pole-star, or
Polaris, is not a very bright one, and it would be hard to identify
but for the help of the Dipper, or Pointers.
The outside (Alpha and Beta) of the Dipper points nearly to Polaris,
at a distance equal to three and one half times the space that
separates these two stars of the Dipper's outer side.
Various Indians call the Pole-star the "Home Star," and "The Star that
Never Moves," and the Dipper they call the "Broken Back."
The last star but one in the Dipper, away from the pole--that is, the
star at the bend of the handle,--is known to astronomers as Mizar, one
of the Horses; Just above it, and tucked close in, is a smaller star
known to astronomers as Alcor, or the Rider. The Indians call these
two the "Old Squaw and the Pappoose on Her Back." In the old world,
from very ancient times, these have been used as tests of eyesight. To
be able to see Alcor with the naked eye means that one has excellent
eyesight. So also on the plains, the old folks would ask the children
at night, "Can you see the pappoose on the old squaw's back?" And when
the youngster saw it, and proved that he did by a right description,
they rejoiced that he had the eyesight which is the first requisite of
a good hunter.
The Great Bear is also to be remembered as the Pointers for another
reason. It is the hour-hand of the woodman's clock. It goes once
around the North Star in about twenty-four hours, the same way as the
sun, and for the same reason--that it is the earth that is going and
leaving them behind.
The time in going around is not exactly twenty-four hours, so that the
position of the Pointers varies with the seasons, but, as a rule, this
for woodcraft purposes is near enough. The bowl of the Dipper swings
one and one half times the width of the opening (i.e., fifteen
degrees) in one hour. If it went a quarter of the circle, that would
mean you had slept a quarter of a day, or six hours.
{83}
Each fifteen days the stars seem to be an hour earlier; in three
months they gain one fourth of the circle, and in a year gain the
whole circle.
According to Flammarion, there are about seven thousand stars visible
to the naked eye, and of those but nineteen are stars of the first
magnitude. Thirteen of them are visible in the latitude of New York,
the other six belong to the South Polar Region of the sky. Here is
Flammarion's arrangement of them in order of seeming brightness. Those
that can be seen in the Southern Hemisphere only, are in brackets:
1. Sirius, the Dog-star.
2. [Canopus, of Argo.]
3. [Alpha, of the Centaur.]
4. Arcturus, of Bootes.
5. Vega, of the Lyre.
6. Rigel, of Orion's foot.
7. Capella, of Auriga.
8. Procyon, or the Little Dog-star.
9. Betelguese, of Orion's right shoulder.
10. [Beta, of the Centaur.]
11. [Achernar, of Eridanus.]
12. Aldebaran, of Taurus, the Bull's right eye.
13. Antares, of Scorpio.
14. [Alpha, of the Southern Cross.]
15. Altair, of the Eagle.
16. Spica, of Virgo.
17. Fomalhaut, of the Southern Fish.
18. [Beta, of the Southern Cross.]
19. Regulus, of the Lion.
Orion
Orion (O-ri-on), with its striking array of brilliant stars,
Betelguese, Rigel, the Three Kings, etc., is generally admitted to be
the finest constellation in the heavens.
Orion was the hunter giant who went to Heaven when he died, and now
marches around the great dome, but is seen only in the winter,
because, during the summer, he passes over during daytime. Thus he is
still the hunter's constellation. The three stars of his belt are
called the "Three Kings."
Sirius, the Great Dog-star, is in the head of Orion's hound, and
following farther back is the Little Dog-star, Procyon. In old charts
of the stars, Orion is shown with his hound, hunting the bull, Taurus.
{84}
[Illustration: Taurus. Orion, Sirius and Procyon. (tr)]
Pleiades
Pleiades (Ply-a-des) can be seen in winter as a cluster of small stars
between Aldebaran and Algol, or, a line drawn from the back bottom,
through the front rim of the Dipper, about two Dipper lengths, touches
this little group. They are not far from Aldebaran, being on the
shoulder of the Bull, of which Aldebaran is the right eye. They may be
considered the seven arrow wounds made by Orion. They are nearer the
Pole-star than Aldebaran is, and on the side away from the Dipper;
also, they are nearly on a line between Beta of the Dipper (front
bottom) and Capella.
Serviss tells us that the Pleiades have a supposed connection with the
Great Pyramid, because "about 2170 B. C., when the beginning of spring
coincided with the culmination of the Pleiades at midnight; that
wonderful group of stars was visible {85} just at midnight, through the
mysterious southward-pointing passage of the Pyramid."
The Moon
The moon is one fifth the diameter of the earth, about one fiftieth of
the bulk, and is about a quarter million miles away. Its course, while
very irregular, is nearly the same as the apparent course of the sun.
But "in winter the full moon is at an altitude in the sky near the
limit attained by the sun in summer, . . . and even, at certain times,
five degrees higher. It is the contrary in summer, a season when the
moon remains very low" (F.).
The moon goes around the earth in 27-1/4 days. It loses nearly three
fourths of an hour each night; that is, it rises that much later.
BIRDCRAFT
_By the National Association of Audubon Societies_
Any boy who cares enough for out-doors to be a scout is sure to want a
good acquaintance with the birds. Even dull people cannot help taking
notice of our "little brothers of the air," on account of their
beauty, their songs, and their wondrous flight. But most folks never
take the trouble to try and learn the names of any except a few common
birds. Scouts whose eyes are sharp and ears are keen will find the
study of birds a fascinating sport, which may prove to be the best fun
that the woods provide.
Knowing the Birds
It is no easy matter, this trying to get to know the birds; but scouts
are not looking for the easiest jobs, and it is great sport for them
to follow some shy songster through the briery thicket until a really
good look can be had, to sit stock still for half an hour to watch
some unknown bird come home to her nest, or to wriggle on all fours
through the grass to have a glimpse over the top of the knoll at the
ducks in the pool beyond.
The only equipment necessary for bird study is an opera or field
glass, a note-book and a good bird reference book. As soon as you get
a good look at a strange bird, notice its colors and markings, and
then, if it moves, follow it up until you have seen practically all of
its most prominent features. It will be impossible to carry these
facts in your head, and unless some definite memorandum is made at the
time you will probably {86} be hopelessly perplexed when you go to consult
the bird book later. As it is hard to jot down satisfactory notes in
the field, while catching fleeting glances of some timid bird, a handy
little booklet has been prepared in which observations can be recorded
very rapidly. These can be procured for fifteen cents apiece from the
National Association of Audubon Societies, 1974 Broadway, New York
City.
Location _______________________ _______________________
Date _______________________Hour _______________________
Weather ___________________Wind _______________________
[Illustration: A bird. (tr)]
SIZE:
Smaller than wren
Between wren and sparrow
Between sparrow and robin
Between robin and crow
Larger than crow
SEEN
Near ground or high up
In heavy woods
Bushy places
Orchard
Garden
Swamp
Open country
Near water
Name ______________________
Order ______________________ Family _______________________
Genus_______________________ Species ______________________
{87}
Each booklet contains outline figures of the five leading types of
birds: (1) small perching birds, (2) hawks, (3) snipes, (4) herons,
(5) ducks. On the page opposite is a list of numbers corresponding to
colors. You can quickly mark on the outline the proper numbers, and
note with your pencil any marks on the bird. Then check the other data
on the page, add any additional memoranda, and you have your "bird in
the hand," ready to take back and look up at your leisure.
Careful Observation
Notice particularly the "range" of the birds in your reference book,
and eliminate all those not stated as occurring in your territory.
Notice too, dates of the birds' coming and going, and do not expect to
find species at any other time of year than within the dates
mentioned. By thus narrowing down the possibilities the task is much
simplified. As a final resort, the National Association of Audubon
Societies stands ready to help all scouts who are positively
"stumped," and if the descriptive slips are mailed with return
envelopes to the secretary of the association, 1974 Broadway, New York
City, an identification will be made, if the information furnished
renders it in any way possible.
The next time you see a bird that you have once identified, you will
probably remember its name, and in this way you will be surprised to
find how rapidly your bird acquaintance will grow. After a time even
the flight of a bird or its song will be enough to reveal an old
acquaintance, just as you can often recognize a boy friend by his walk
or the sound of his voice, without seeing his face. And what a new joy
in life there is for anybody that really knows the birds about him. He
can pick from the medley of bird songs the notes of the individual
singers; he knows when to look for old friends of the year before; no
countryside is ever lonely for him, for he finds birds everywhere and
knows that any moment he may make some rare discovery or see a bird
before unknown to him.
Bird Lists
A scout should make a list of all the birds he has positively
identified. This is his "life list" and is added to year by year. In
addition he will keep daily lists of the birds seen on special trips
in the field. Two or more patrols can enjoy a friendly rivalry by
covering different regions and seeing which can observe the largest
variety of birds. Hundreds of well-known {88} ornithologists often
have the fun of this kind of competition, sending in their lists to a
central bureau. As many as one hundred and twenty different kinds of
birds have been counted in a single day by one energetic band of
bird-lovers. Such a list is, however, attainable only under
exceptionally favorable circumstances and by skilled observers who
know their country thoroughly. For most scouts, thirty to forty
species on a summer day, and fifty to sixty during the spring
migration, would be regarded as a good list.
88 Boy Scouts
[Illustration: Bob-white at feeding station.]
Nesting Season
Undoubtedly the most interesting season to study birds is during the
nesting period which is at its height in June. It takes a pair of
sharp eyes to find most birds' nests in the first place, and once
found, there are dozens of interesting little incidents which it is a
delight to watch. Only a foolish scout would rob himself of his chance
to observe the secrets of nest life by stealing the contents, or would
take any delight in piling up a collection of egg shells whose value
at its best is almost nothing, and whose acquisition is necessarily
accompanied by {89} genuine heart pangs on the part of the rightful
owners. It is more exciting to try to hide yourself near the nest so
skilfully that the birds will carry on their domestic duties as though
you were not near. A blind made of green cloth and set up near the
nest like a little tent will often give opportunity for very close
observation. It is surprising how near many birds will allow one to
come in this way. Even though the blind looks very strange and out of
place, the birds soon seem to get used to it, so long as it is
motionless and the inmate cannot be seen. A simple type of blind can
be constructed by sewing the edges of long pieces of green cloth
together, drawing in the top with a cord, and then draping it over an
open umbrella.
[Illustration: Bird blind.]
How to Photograph
From such a hiding place, photographs can often be secured of timid
birds at their nests. In attempting to take photographs it must be
remembered that cameras of the pocket variety or fixed box type are
almost useless. Most of them cannot be worked without special
attachments at closer range than six feet, and, even if the focus is
correctly guessed, the image is apt to be very small. In this work it
is far better to invest in a cheap camera (second-hand if need be)
with which one can obtain a definite image on the ground glass where
the plate or film is to be. Focus the camera on some spot where it is
expected the bird will come; usually this is on the nest or young,
sometimes it is the food, a favorite perch, or some form of decoy. The
next requisite is patience. If the coveted opportunity arrives, set
off the shutter by hand in the {90} blind, or, where this is not
possible, by means of a long thread, after carefully hiding the camera
with boughs, leaves, sods, etc.
How to Know
An idea of the details of a bird's life which a scout may come to
know, may be had from the following table:
1. Description. (Size, form, color, and markings.)
2. Haunts. (Upland, lowland, lakes, rivers, woods, fields. etc.)
3. Movements. (Slow or active, hops, walks, creeps, swims, tail
wagged, etc.)
4. Appearance. (Alert, listless, crest erect, tail drooped, etc.)
5. Disposition. (Solitary, flocking, wary, unsuspicious, etc.)
6. Flight. (Slow, rapid, direct, undulating, soaring, sailing,
flapping, etc.)
7. Song. (Pleasing, unattractive, long, short, loud, faint, sung from
the ground, from a perch, in the air, etc. Season of song.)
8. Call notes. (Of surprise, alarm, protest, warning, signaling, etc.)
9. Season. (Spring, fall, summer, winter, with times of arrival and
departure and variations in numbers.)
10. Food. (Berries, insects, seeds, etc.; how secured.)
11. Mating. (Habits during courtship.)
12. Nesting. (Choice of site, material, construction, eggs,
incubation, etc.)
13. The young. (Food and care of, time in the nest, notes, actions,
flight, etc.)
So varied is a bird's life that there is still plenty to be learned
about even our common birds. It is quite possible for a scout to
discover some facts that have never yet been published in books.
[Illustration: Red-breasted nuthatch.]
What One Boy Did
A boy once originated the idea of varying the usual "bird's nesting"
craze into a systematic study of the breeding of our common birds. In
one spring he found within the limits of a single village one hundred
and seventy robins' nests. "One hundred were in suitable situations on
private places, forty-one were in woods, swamps and orchards, eight
were placed under bridges (two being under the iron girders of the
railroad bridge), four were {91} in quarries, sixteen were in barns,
sheds, under piazzas, etc., and one was on the ground at the foot of a
bush."
In addition to searching out the birds in their natural haunts, there
is a great fascination in trying to attract them to our homes. During
winter evenings boy scouts can busy themselves making nesting boxes.
Even an old cigar box or a tomato can with a hole in it the size of a
quarter will satisfy a house wren. Other boxes which are suitable for
bluebirds, chickadees, tree swallows, purple martins, and starlings,
will, if set up in March, often have tenants the very first season. In
many cases it is feasible to have hinged doors or sides on the nesting
boxes, so that they may occasionally be opened and the progress of
events within observed. It is needless to add, however, that great
caution must be exercised to prevent desertion of the nest, or other
disturbance of the birds' home life. Under favorable circumstances,
even some of the shyer inhabitants of the woods, such as woodpeckers,
owls, and ducks can be induced to patronize artificial cavities, if
they are made right and erected right.
[Illustration: Downy woodpecker.]
[Illustration: Observation box, open.]
Caring for Birds
Another way of attracting birds in summer is by providing drinking and
bathing places. A little artificial pool protected from cats, will be
a source of joy to the birds and of delight to the observer from
morning to night. Apply to the {92} National Association of Audubon
Societies for information as to where ready-made nest boxes and
fountains can be procured, also books on this subject, as well as on
the subject of making friends of the birds through feeding.
[Illustration: House wren and tomato-can house]
[Illustration: Birch-bark house]
The Bird Lunch Counter
How best to feed the birds is almost an art in itself. A winter lunch
counter spread with suet, nuts, hemp seed, meat, and crumbs will
attract nuthatches, chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, creepers,
blue jays, etc. Canary seed, buckwheat, oats and hay-chaff scattered
on the ground beneath will provide an irresistible banquet for other
feathered boarders. A feeding place of this sort can be arranged for
convenient observation from a window, and afford no end of diversion
and instruction. But whether close to home or far afield, the great
secret of success in such work is regularity. Begin to put the food
out early in November, and let the birds get to know that they are
always sure to find a supply of dainties in a certain spot, and the
news will soon spread among them. In wintry weather, especially, it is
amazing what can be accomplished by feeding the birds regularly, and
at least the following birds have been induced to feed from the human
hand: chickadee, white-breasted nuthatch, red-breasted nuthatch, brown
creeper, Carolina wren, cardinal, evening grosbeak, tufted titmouse,
Canada jay, Florida jay, Oregon jay, and redpoll. Even in spring
untiring patience has resulted in the gratification of this supreme
ambition of the bird-lover, and bluebird, robin, cat-bird: chipping
sparrow, oven-bird, brown thrasher and yellow-throated vireo have been
known to feed from the hand of a trusted friend, even with plenty of
food all around. What scout can add to this list?
Protecting the Birds
Many a boy thinks that just because a bird is alive and moves it is a
proper target for his air rifle or his sling shot. {93} Let us be
thankful that there has now arisen a new class of boys, the scouts,
who, like the knights of old, are champions of the defenceless, even
the birds. Scouts are the birds' police, and wo betide the lad who is
caught with a nest and eggs, or the limp corpse of some feathered
songster that he has slaughtered. Scouts know that there is no value
in birds that are shot, except a few scientific specimens collected by
trained museum experts. Scouts will not commend a farmer for shooting
a hawk or an owl as a harmful bird, even though it were seen to
capture a young chicken. They will post themselves on the subject and
find that most hawks and owls feed chiefly on field mice and large
insects injurious to the farmer's crops, and that thus, in spite of an
occasional toll on the poultry, they are as a whole of tremendous
value. The way the birds help mankind is little short of a marvel. A
band of nuthatches worked all winter in a pear orchard near Rochester
and rid the trees of a certain insect that had entirely destroyed the
crop of the previous summer. A pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks were
seen to feed their nest of youngsters four hundred and twenty-six
times in a day, each time with a billful of potato-bugs or other
insects. A professor in Washington counted two hundred and fifty tent
caterpillars in the stomach of a dead yellow-billed cuckoo, and, what
appeals to us even more, five hundred bloodthirsty mosquitoes inside
of one night-hawk.
[Illustration: White-breasted nuthatch]
[Illustration: Bluebird at entrance of nesting-box]
It must not be forgotten that large city parks are among the best
places for observing birds. As an example of what can be accomplished,
even with limited opportunities, there was a boy who happened to know
where some owls roosted. {94} Now all owls swallow their prey whole,
and in digesting this food they disgorge the skulls, bones, fur, and
feathers in the form of hard dry pellets. This boy used to go out on
Saturday or Sunday afternoon and bring home his pockets full of
pellets, and then in the evening he would break them apart. In this
way he learned exactly what the owls had been eating (without killing
them) and he even discovered the skulls of certain field mice that
naturalists had never known existed in that region. He let the owl be
his collector.
Patrol Work
It is a good idea to keep at patrol headquarters a large sheet on the
wall, where a list of the year's bird observations can be tabulated.
Each time a new bird is seen, its name is added, together with the
initial of the observer, and after that its various occurrences are
noted opposite its name. The keenest eyed scouts are those whose
initials appear most frequently in the table. In addition, the tables
will show the appearance and relative abundance of birds in a given
locality. For patrols of young boys, a plan of tacking up a colored
picture of each bird, as soon as it is thoroughly known, has been
found very successful, and the result provides a way to decorate the
headquarters.
Such pictures can be obtained very cheaply from the Perry Pictures
Co., Boston, Mass., or the National Association of Audubon Societies,
1974 Broadway, New York City.
MOLLUSCA--Shells and Shellfish
_By Dr. William Healey Dall, of the United States Geological Survey_
[Illustration: Fig. 1; White lipped snail (Polygyra albolabris)]
Among the shy and retiring animals which inhabit our woods and waters,
or the borders of the sea, without making themselves conspicuous to
man except when he seeks the larger ones for food, are the mollusca,
usually confounded with crabs and crayfish under the popular name of
"shellfish," except the few which have no external shell, which are
generally called slugs. Hardly any part of the world (except deserts)
is without them, but, shy as they are, it takes pretty sharp eyes to
find them. Some come out of their hiding places {95} only at night,
and nearly all our American kinds live under cover of some sort.
The mollusks can be conveniently divided into three groups: those
which inhabit fresh water, those which breathe air and live on dry
land, and lastly those which are confined to the sea. The land shells,
or snails, have generally thin shells of spiral form and live upon
vegetable matter, many of them laying small eggs which look like
minute pearls. Their hiding places are under leaves in shady or moist
places, under the bark of dead trees or stumps, or under loose stone.
They creep slowly and are most active after rain. Some of our larger
kinds are an inch or two in diameter, (see Fig. 1., the white-lipped)
but from this size there are others diminishing in size to the
smallest, which are hardly larger than the head of a pin, In
collecting them the little ones may be allowed to dry up. The big ones
must be killed in boiling water, when the animal can be pulled out
with a hook made of a crooked pin, leaving the shell clean and
perfect. The slugs are not attractive on account of the slime which
they throw out and can only be kept in spirits. Some of the species
found in California are as large as a small cigar, but those of the
states east of the Rocky Mountains are smaller and have mostly been
introduced from Europe, where they do a lot of mischief by eating such
garden plants as lettuce.
Many of the fresh-water snails are abundant in brooks and ponds, and
their relations, the fresh-water mussels, are often very numerous in
shallow rivers. They have a shell frequently beautifully pearly, white
or purple, and sometimes have the brown outer skin prettily streaked
with bright green.
[Illustration: Fig. 2 Whelk (Buccinum umatum)]
[Illustration: Fig. 3 Pond snail (Lymnaea palustris)]
The principal fresh-water snails are the pond snail (_Lymnaea_; see
Fig. 3); the _Physa_ (see Fig. 6), which is remarkable for having the
coil turned to the left instead of the right; and the orb-snail,
(_Planorbis_: see Fig. 4) which has its coil flat. All of {96} these
lay minute eggs in a mass of transparent jelly, and are to be found on
lily pads and other water plants, or crawling on the bottom, while the
mussels bury themselves more or less in the mud or lie on the gravelly
bottom of streams. There is also a very numerous tribe of small
bivalve shells, varying from half an inch to very minute in size,
which are also mud lovers and are known as Sphaerium or Pisidium,
having no "common" English names, since only those who hunt for them
know of their existence.
On the seashore everybody knows the mussel (Mytilus: see Fig. 5), the
soft clam, the round clam, and the oyster, as these are sought for
food; but there is a multitude of smaller bivalves which are not so
well known. The sea-snails best known on the coast north of Chesapeake
Bay are the whelk (Buccinum: see Fig. 2), the sand snail or Natica,
which bores the round holes often found in clam shells on the beach,
in order to suck the juices of its neighbors, and the various kinds of
periwinkles (rock snails or Littorina) found by the millions on the
rocks between tides. These, as well as the limpets, small boat-shaped
or slipper-shaped conical shells found in similar places, are
vegetable feeders. Altogether, there are several hundred kinds found
on the seashore and the water near the shore, and a collection of them
will not only contain many curious, pretty, and interesting things,
but will have the advantage of requiring no preservative to keep them
in good condition after the animal has been taken out.
[Illustration: Fig. 4 Orb-Shell (Planorbis trivolvis)]
[Illustration: Fig. 5 Black Mussel (Mytilus)]
[Illustration: Fig. 6 Bubble snail (Physa heterostropha)]
The squids, cuttle-fishes, octopus, and their allies are also
mollusks, but not so accessible to the ordinary collector, and can
only be kept in spirits.
Books which may help the collector to identify the shells he may find
are:
For the land and fresh-water shells: {97}
"Mollusks of the Chicago Area" and "The Lymnaeidae of North America."
By F. C. Baker. Published by the Chicago Academy of Sciences.
For the American Marine Shells: Bulletin No. 37. Published by the
United States National Museum, at Washington.
For shells in general: "The Shell Book." Published by Doubleday, Page
& Co., Garden City, N.Y.
On the Pacific Coast the "West Coast Shells," by Prof. Josiah Keep of
Mills College, will be found very useful.
REPTILES
_By Dr. Leonhard Stejneger, Curator National Museum_
By reptiles we understand properly a certain class of vertebrate or
backboned animals, which, on the whole, may be described as possessing
scales or horny shields since most of them may be distinguished by
this outer covering, as the mammals by their hair and the birds by
their feathers. Such animals as thousand-legs, scorpions, tarantulas,
etc., though often erroneously referred to as reptiles, do not concern
us in this connection. Among the living reptiles we distinguish four
separate groups, the crocodiles, the turtles, the lizards, and the
snakes.
The crocodiles resemble lizards in shape, but are very much larger and
live only in the tropics and the adjacent regions of the temperate
zone. To this order belongs our North American alligator, which
inhabits the states bordering the Gulf of Mexico and the coast country
along the Atlantic Ocean as far north as North Carolina. They are
hunted for their skin, which furnishes an excellent leather for
traveling bags, purses, etc., and because of the incessant pursuit are
now becoming quite rare in many localities where formerly they were
numerous. The American crocodile, very much like the one occurring in
the river Nile, is also found at the extreme southern end of Florida.
The turtles are easily recognized by the bony covering which encases
their body, and into which most species can withdraw their heads and
legs for protection. This bony box is usually covered with horny
plates, but in a large group, the so-called soft-shell turtles, the
outer covering is a soft skin, thus forming a {98} notable exception
to the rule that reptiles are characterized by being covered with
scales or plates. While most of the turtles live in fresh water or on
land, a few species pass their lives in the open ocean, only coming
ashore during the breeding season to deposit their eggs. Some of these
marine turtles grow to an enormous size, sometimes reaching a weight
of over eight hundred pounds. One of them is much sought for on
account of the delicacy of its flesh; another because of the thickness
and beauty of its horny plates which furnish the so-called
tortoise-shell, an important article of commerce. Turtles appear to
reach a very old age, specimens having been known to have lived
several hundred years. The box tortoise of our woods, the musk
turtles, the snapping turtles are familiar examples of this order,
while the terrapin, which lives in brackish ponds and swamps along our
sea-coasts, is famous as a table delicacy.
[Illustration: Harlequin snake]