Camp Life.--Winter Evenings.--An Evening in Camp.--Characters.--
Card-playing.--A Song.--Collision with wild Beasts.--The unknown
Animal in a Dilemma.--"Indian Devil."--The Aborigines' Terror.--
A shocking Encounter.--The Discovery and Pursuit.--The Bear as an
Antagonist.--Their thieving Propensities.--A thrilling Scene in
the Night.--A desperate Encounter with three Bears.
The winter evenings of camp life are too much abridged in length to
allow a long season either for repose or amusement, in consequence of
the lateness of the hour in which the men leave work, and the various
matters which regularly claim attention. By the time supper is over
and the nightly camp-fire built, sleep early invites the laborer to
the enjoyment of its soothing influences. And oh! how sweet is that
repose! The incumbents of downy beds, nestled within the folds of
gorgeous drapery, might earnestly but vainly court it.
Could you take a peep into our snug camp some evening, you might see
one of our number, seated perhaps on a stool in the corner, with a
huge jack-knife in his hand, up to his knees in whittlings, while he
is endeavoring to give shape and proportions to the stick he is
cutting to supply the place of a broken ax-handle. The teamster might
be seen driving a heated "staple," with jingling ring, into a new
yoke, which is to supply the place of one "Old Turk" split while
attempting, with his mate and associates, to remove an immense pine
log from its bed during the day; and as he strikes the heated iron
into the perforated timber, the curling smoke, in two little spiral
columns, rises gradually and gracefully, spreading as they ascend,
until his head is enveloped in a dense cloud.
There sits another fellow staring into vacuity, while between his
lips, profusely covered with a heavy beard, the growth of a quarter of
a year, sticks a stub-stemmed pipe. Opening and shutting those ample
lips, volumes of smoke roll out, like discharges from the side of a
moss-grown battery, the very _beau ideal_ of all that is exquisite in
"tobaccoing." Bestride the deacon seat, a little removed, sits the
cook, with a large pan between his knees, with shirt-sleeves furled,
and in the dough to his elbows, kneading a batch of bread to bake for
breakfast. The sweat rolls from his half-covered forehead, and, unable
to relieve his hands, he applies now one elbow, then the other, to dry
up the mizzle from his moistened brow. Yonder, at the further end of
the camp, in close proximity to the fire, sits a lean, lank little
man, with thin lips, ample forehead, and eyes no larger than a rifle
bullet, piercing as the sun, poring over the dingy pages of an old
weekly, perhaps for the tenth time. Songs, cards, or stories possess
but little attraction for him. Intellectually inclined, but miserably
provided for, still the old newspaper is a more congenial companion
for him.
Behind the deacon seat, lounging upon the boughy bed, you may see half
a dozen sturdy fellows--the bone and sinew of the crew--telling
"yarns," or giving expression to the buoyancy of their feelings in a
song, while the whole interior of the camp is lighted with a blazing
hard-wood fire, which casts upward its rays through the capacious
smoke-hole, gilding the overhanging branches of the neighboring trees.
All within indicates health, content, and cheerfulness.
Card-playing is often resorted to as an evening pastime. If not
provided with candles or lamps, the lovers of this recreation are
careful to select a store of pitchy knots, whose brilliant combustion
relieves them from all the inconvenience of darkness. This is,
however, a bewitching amusement, and often proves detrimental to the
peace and rest of the whole crew, and injurious also to the interests
of employers.
The last winter I spent in the logging swamp, there were several packs
of cards brought into the encampment by men in my division. I had
resolved not to allow card-playing in my camp; but how to accomplish
my purpose without inviting other unpleasant results was something to
be thought of, as that man makes to himself an uncomfortable birth who
incurs the ill will of his comrades in any way, especially in the
exercise of authority not strictly related to the business for which
they are employed, and by an infringement upon what they esteem their
private and personal rights. Pointing out a pack of cards, while in
camp one afternoon, to the owner of the same, at a moment when he was
in a decidedly favorable mood for my purpose, "Come, Hobbs," said I,
"burn them!" at the same time accompanying the request with the best
reason I could offer to induce compliance. Taking them down, and
thoughtfully shuffling them over for a minute, "Well," said he, "they
are foolish things, aint they?" Of course I acquiesced. "Here goes!"
said he, taking the poker and stirring open the hot bed of live coals,
and in they went. The work of extirpation being commenced, he rifled
the knapsacks of others belonging to the crew of their packs of cards,
and threw them into the fire also, pronouncing deliberately, "High,
low, Jack, and the game!" I really expected a fuss when the matter
should come to the knowledge of the others. They submitted, however,
to their bereavement like philosophers. It passed off without any muss
being kicked up, though the agent was a little menaced for the
liberties he had taken in the matter; but he enjoyed the sympathies of
the instigator.
Loggers, unlike most classes of men, are under the necessity of
manufacturing their own songs.[11] The mariner, the patriot, the
soldier, and the lover have engaged the attention of gifted bards in
giving rhyme and measure to their feelings; yet they are not without
poetical sentiment. The following is inserted as a specimen of log
swamp literature, composed by one of the loggers:
[11] I should make one exception; J. G. Whittier has lifted
his gifted pen for them.
THE LOGGER'S BOAST.
"Come, all ye sons of freedom throughout the State of Maine,
Come, all ye gallant lumbermen, and listen to my strain;
On the banks of the Penobscot, where the rapid waters flow,
O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering will go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering will go,
O! we'll range the wild woods over while a lumbering we go.
When the white frost gilds the valleys, the cold congeals the
flood;
When many men have naught to do to earn their families bread;
When the swollen streams are frozen, and the hills are clad with
snow,
O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we will go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.
When you pass through the dense city, and pity all you meet,
To hear their teeth chattering as they hurry down the street;
In the red frost-proof flannel we're incased from top to toe,
While we range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.
You may boast of your gay parties, your pleasures, and your plays,
And pity us poor lumbermen while dashing in your sleighs;
We want no better pastime than to chase the buck and doe;
O! we'll range the wild woods over, and a lumbering we will go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.
The music of our burnished ax shall make the woods resound,
And many a lofty ancient Pine will tumble to the ground;
At night, ho! round our good camp-fire we will sing while rude
winds blow:
O! we'll range the wild woods over while a lumbering we go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering, &c.
When winter's snows are melted, and the ice-bound streams are
free,
We'll run our logs to market, then haste our friends to see;
How kindly true hearts welcome us, our wives and children too,
We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering go;
And a lumbering we'll go, so a lumbering we will go,
We will spend with these the summer, and once more a lumbering
go.
And when upon the long-hid soil the white Pines disappear,
We will cut the other forest trees, and sow whereon we clear;
Our grain shall wave o'er valleys rich, our herds bedot the hills,
When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills;
Then no more a lumbering go, so no more a lumbering go,
When our feet no more are hurried on to tend the driving mills.
'When our youthful days are ended,' we will cease from winter
toils,
And each one through the summer warm will till the virgin soil;
'We've enough to eat,' to drink, to wear, content through life to
go,
Then we'll tell our wild adventures o'er, and no more a lumbering
go;
And no more a lumbering go, so no more a lumbering go,
O! we'll tell our wild adventures o'er, and no more a lumbering
go."
Our winter quarters and employments not unfrequently bring us into
collision with wild animals of a formidable character. Of these the
"Indian devil," or a species of the catamount, is chief. We often
track animals of whom we have never gained sight.
Passing along one day in pursuit of timber, my attention was arrested
by a track of uncommon size and appearance. It was round, and about
the size of a hat crown, and penetrated the snow where it would bear
me. I noticed where the creature stepped over a large fallen tree
about two feet and a half high. A light snow several inches deep
covered the log, which he did not even brush with his belly as he
passed over it. From the nature of the track, I knew he did not jump.
His legs could not have been less than three feet in length. After
this discovery, I made my way to where the rest of the crew were at
work with right good will. A similar track, of probably this same
animal, has been seen by many different persons and parties, at places
quite remote from each other, for several winters; but no one, that I
am aware of, is satisfied that he has yet been seen, unless, indeed,
by two or three lads while on the shore of the Grand Lake, who were
fishing out of holes cut in the ice near the shore. About half a mile
from them a long point made out into the lake, running parallel with
the shore, which formed the boundary of a deep cove. The ice had
become quite weak; still, it bore them with safety. While busily
engaged with their fishing-tackle, their attention was suddenly
arrested by a loud, splashing noise, as though some one was struggling
in the water; and, on looking for the cause, they saw a large animal
endeavoring to make the main land, crossing directly from the point
toward them. He continued to break in every few rods, when he would
spring out again with the agility of a cat. After getting out, he
would stand and look round, then venture forward, and break through as
before. The description they gave of his appearance was that he looked
just like an immense cat; appeared to be about four feet high, and
five or six feet long, thick-set about the head and shoulders,
resembling somewhat in this particular the bull-dog. His general color
was quite like that of a mouse, or, to use the boys' own words,
"bluish," with light breast and belly. His tail was very long,
reaching down quite to the ice, and curled up at the end; this he
moved about just as a cat moves its tail. Waiting but a moment to gain
this general view, they made for home with all possible dispatch,
about one mile distant. Several men, with guns and axes, immediately
started for the lake, but nothing further was seen of him. The manner
in which the ice was broken fully confirmed the statement made by the
boys respecting the size of this unknown creature.
There is an animal in the deep recesses of our forests, evidently
belonging to the feline race, which, on account of its ferocity, is
significantly called "_Indian Devil_"--in the Indian language, "the
Lunk Soos;" a terror to the Indians, and the only animal in New
England of which they stand in dread. You may speak of the moose, the
bear, and the wolf even, and the red man is ready for the chase and
the encounter. But name the object of his dread, and he will
significantly shake his head, while he exclaims, "_He all one debil!_"
An individual by the name of Smith met with the following adventure in
an encounter with one of these animals on the Arromucto, while on his
way to join a crew engaged in timber-making in the woods.
He had nearly reached the place of encampment, when he came suddenly
upon one of these ferocious animals. There was no chance for retreat,
neither had he time for reflection on the best method of defense or
escape. As he had no arms or other weapons of defense, the first
impulse, in this truly fearful position, unfortunately, perhaps, was
to spring into a small tree near by; but he had scarcely ascended his
length when the desperate creature, probably rendered still more
fierce by the promptings of hunger, sprang upon and seized him by the
heel. Smith, however, after having his foot badly bitten, disengaged
it from the shoe, which was firmly clinched in the creature's teeth,
and let him drop. The moment he was disengaged, Smith sprang for a
more secure position, and the animal at the same time leaped to
another large tree, about ten feet distant, up which he ascended to an
elevation equal to that of his victim, from which he threw himself
upon him, firmly fixing his teeth in the calf of his leg. Hanging
suspended thus until the flesh, insufficient to sustain the weight,
gave way, he dropped again to the ground, carrying a portion of flesh
in his mouth. Having greedily devoured this morsel, he bounded again
up the opposite tree, and from thence upon Smith, in this manner
renewing his attacks, and tearing away the flesh in mouthfuls from his
legs. During this agonizing operation, Smith contrived to cut a limb
from the tree, to which he managed to bind his jack-knife, with which
he could now assail his enemy at every leap. He succeeded thus in
wounding him so badly that at length his attacks were discontinued,
and he finally disappeared in the dense forest.
During the encounter, Smith had exerted his voice to the utmost to
alarm the crew, who, he hoped, might be within hail. He was heard, and
in a short time several of the crew reached the place, but not in time
to save him from the dreadful encounter. The sight was truly
appalling. His garments were not only rent from him, but the flesh
literally torn from his legs, exposing even the bone and sinews. It
was with the greatest difficulty he made the descent of the tree.
Exhausted through loss of blood, and overcome by fright and exertion,
he sunk upon the ground and immediately fainted; but the application
of snow restored him to consciousness. Preparing a litter from poles
and boughs, they conveyed him to the camp, washed and dressed his
wounds as well as circumstances would allow, and, as soon as possible,
removed him to the settlement, where medical aid was secured. After a
protracted period of confinement, he gradually recovered from his
wounds, though still carrying terrible scars, and sustaining
irreparable injury. Such desperate encounters are, however, of rare
occurrence, though collisions less sanguinary are not unfrequent.
On one occasion, we tracked one of those animals where we had the day
before been at work. From appearances, he seemed to have something
unusual attached to one of his fore feet, which we judged to be a
common steel trap. Returning to the camp for the gun and a lunch, two
men started in pursuit. They followed him three days before overtaking
him. In one place on the route they measured a bound of fifteen feet,
which he made to take a rabbit, which he caught and devoured, leaving
only small portions of the hide and fur of his victim. From the course
traveled, it was evident that he was aware of his pursuers, whom he
unquestionably desired to avoid. On the third day they came in sight
of him for the first time. No longer retreating before his pursuers,
he now turned upon them. Aware that they could have but one shot, it
being impossible to reload before he would be upon them, they suffered
him to approach very near, to make their aim more certain. The forest
echoed with the report of the discharge; the shot took effect, and a
furious scuffle followed. The snow flew, while the enraged and furious
growl and gnashing teeth mingled with the clattering trap, and the
echo of the powerful blows inflicted upon his head with the shivered
breach of the gun, under which he yielded his life to his superior
pursuers.
But there is no animal among us with whom encounters are so frequent
as the common black bear. Their superior strength, the skill with
which they ward off blows, and even wrench an instrument from the hand
of an assailant, and their tenacity of life, render them really a
formidable antagonist. We have sometimes been diverted, as well as
severely annoyed, by their thievish tricks. In one instance we were
followed several days by one of them on our passage up river, who
seemed equally bent on mischief and plunder. The first of our
acquaintance with him occurred while encamped at the mouth of a small
stream, whose channel we were improving by the removal of large rocks
which obstructed log-driving. Our camp was merely temporary, so that
all our goods were exposed. While we were asleep during the night, he
came upon our premises, and selected from the baggage a bundle
containing all the winter clothing of one of the men--boots, shaving
tools, &c.
His curiosity was too great to allow of a far removal of the pack
without an examination of its contents; and never did deputy inspector
or constable perform a more thorough search. Duties on the package
were inadmissible; the goods were esteemed contraband, and were
accordingly confiscated. The wearing apparel was torn into shreds.
There was a pair of stout cow-hide boots, of which he tried the
flavor; they were chewed up and spoiled. The razor did not escape his
inquisitiveness. Whether he attempted to shave we say not, but he
tested its palatableness by chewing up the handle.
From this position we removed a few miles further up stream, where we
were to construct a dam, the object of which was to flow the lake, to
obtain a good head of water for spring driving. This job being
somewhat lengthy, we erected a more permanent camp for our
convenience. A few evenings after our settlement at this point, while
all hands were in camp, we heard some one moving about on the roof,
where a ten-gallon keg of molasses was deposited. At first it was
supposed to be a trick by some one of the crew; but, on looking round,
there was no one missing.
Suspecting with more certainty the character of our visitor, we seized
a fire-brand or two, and sallied forth like a disturbed garrison of
ants, when we discovered that we were minus a keg of molasses.
Following in the direction of the retreating thief, we found the keg
but a few rods distant, setting on one end, with the other torn out.
He evidently had intended a feast, but, intimidated by the fire-brands
and the hallooing, he had retreated precipitately into his native
haunts; but only, as it would seem, to plan another theft. About two
hours afterward, when all was still, a noise was again heard in the
door-yard, similar to that of a hog rooting among the chips, where the
cook had thrown his potato parings. Peering through the crack of the
camp door, sure enough, there was Bruin again, apparently as much at
home as a house-dog.
We had a gun, but improvidently had left our ammunition at another
place of deposit, about a hundred rods distant. Resolved upon
chastising him for his insolence in the event of another visit, the
lantern was lighted, and the ammunition soon brought to camp.
The gun was now charged with powder and two bullets. We waited some
time for his return, first removing a strip from the camp door for a
port-hole. Hearing nothing of him, all hands turned in again. About
twelve o'clock at night he made us his third visit in the door-yard,
as before, and directly in front of the camp, offering a most inviting
shot. Creeping softly to the door, and passing the muzzle of the gun
through the prepared aperture, our eye glanced along the barrel,
thence to a dark object not thirty feet distant. A gentle but nervous
pressure upon the trigger, a flash, a sheet of fire, and the very
woods shook with the reverberating report, which sent Bruin away upon
a plunging gallop. The copious effusion of warm blood which spirted on
the chips was evidence that the leaden messenger had faithfully done
its duty. A portion of his lights were shot away, and dropped to the
ground, which convinced us that he was mortally wounded, and that it
would not be possible for him to run far. Seizing as many fire-brands
as could be procured, with axes, and the gun reloaded, all hands
dashed into the forest after him, half-naked, just as they had risen
from the bed, leaping, yelling, and swinging their fire-brands like so
many wild spirits from the regions of fire.
Guided in the pursuit by the cracking of rotten limbs and the rustling
of leaves as he heavily plunged on, we pursued him through a dense
swamp. From the increased distinctness with which we heard his step,
it was evident we were gaining upon him. Soon we heard his labored
breathing. Just before we overtook him, he merged from the swamp, and
with much exertion ascended a slight elevation, covered with a fine
growth of canoe Birch, where, from exhaustion and loss of blood, he
lay down, and suffered us to surround him. The inflammable bark of the
Birch was instantly ignited all round us, presenting a brilliant and
wild illumination, which lent its influence to a most unbounded
enthusiasm, while our war-dance was performed around the captured and
slain marauder. Taken altogether, the scene presented one of the most
lively collections of material for the pencil that we have ever
contemplated. There were uncommon brilliancy, life, and animation in
the group. After dispatching, we strung him up and dressed him on the
spot, taking only one quarter of his carcass, with the hide, back to
camp.
A portion of this was served up next morning for breakfast; but while
the sinewy, human-like appearance of the fore leg might have whetted
the appetite of a cannibal, a contrary influence was exerted on ours.
More sanguinary was the following encounter, which took place in the
vicinity of Tara-height, on the Madawaska River: "A trap had been set
by one of the men, named Jacob Harrison, who, being out in search of a
yoke of oxen on the evening in question, saw a young bear fast in the
trap, and three others close at hand in a very angry mood, a fact
which rendered it necessary for him to make tracks immediately. On
arriving at the farm, he gave the alarm, and, seizing an old dragoon
saber, he was followed to the scene of action by Mr. James Burke,
armed with a gun, and the other man with an ax.
"They proceeded direct to the trap, supplied with a rope, intending to
take the young bear alive. It being a short time after dark, objects
could not be distinctly seen; but, on approaching close to the scene
of action, a crashing among the leaves and dry branches, with sundry
other indications, warned them of the proximity of the old animals.
When within a few steps of the spot, a dark mass was seen on the
ground--a growl was heard--and the confined beast made a furious leap
on Jacob, who was in advance, catching him by the legs. The infuriated
animal inflicted a severe wound on his knee, upon which he drew his
sword, and defended himself with great coolness.
"Upon receiving several wounds from the saber, the cub commenced to
growl and cry in a frightful and peculiar manner, when the old
she-bear, attracted to the spot, rushed on the adventurous Harrison,
and attacked him from behind with great ferocity. Jacob turned upon
the new foe, and wielded his trusty weapon with such energy and
success, that in a short time he deprived her of one of her fore paws
by a lucky stroke, and completely disabled her eventually by a
desperate cut across the neck, which divided the tendons and severed
the spinal vertebrae. Having completed his conquest (in achieving which
he found the sword a better weapon than the ax, the animal being
unable to knock it from his hand, every attempt to do so being
followed by a wound), he had ample time to dispatch the imprisoned cub
at leisure.
"During the time this stirring and dangerous scene we have related was
enacting, war was going on in equally bloody and vigorous style at a
short distance. Mr. Burke, having discharged his gun at the other old
bear, only slightly wounded him; the enraged Bruin sprang at him with
a furious howl. He was met with a blow from the butt-end of the
fowling-piece. At the first stroke the stock flew in pieces, and the
next the heavy barrel was hurled a distance of twenty feet among the
underwood by a side blow from the dexterous paw of the bear. Mr. Burke
then retreated a few feet and placed his back against a large Hemlock,
followed the while closely by the bear, but, being acquainted with the
nature of the animal and his mode of attack, he drew a large
hunting-knife from his belt, and, placing his arms by his side, coolly
awaited the onset.
"The maddened brute approached, growling and gnashing his teeth, and
with a savage spring encircled the body of the hunter and the tree in
his iron gripe. The next moment the flashing blade of the _couteau
chasse_ tore his abdomen, and his smoking entrails rolled upon the
ground. At this exciting crisis of the struggle, the other man,
accompanied by the dog, came up in time to witness the triumphal close
of the conflict.
"Two old bears and a cub were the fruits of this dangerous
adventure--all extremely fat--the largest of which, it is computed,
would weigh upward of two hundred and fifty pounds. We have seldom
heard of a more dangerous encounter with bears, and we are happy to
say that Mr. Burke received no injury; and Mr. Jacob Harrison,
although torn severely, and having three ribs broken, recovered under
the care of an Indian doctor of the Algonquin tribe."