shall not attempt to describe this species of sport in this place.
There are those who object to hunting on principle, and I am not
bigoted enough to say they are altogether wrong. Certain, however,
it is that otter hunting is remarkably exhilarating, and there is a
great deal of fun to be got out of the mishaps which are sure to ensue
to the hunters as they scamper and splash and rush and dash over the
bowlders, through bush and brier and stream and rivulet, till the wily
brute is either caught or “kenneled.” So far as we are now concerned,
I shall content myself with telling you how to trap this vermin of the
water, and if ever you become possessed of a stream or lake of fish do
not forget that the otter is your chiefest enemy--excepting the human
poacher, of course.
Now we will presume you are one morning early taking a walk by the side
of your favorite stream. On each side the willows and alders bend over
the water and their roots clutch the banks with rugged fingers, forming
coverts for rats, moorhens, dabchicks, and other small fry, as well as
for the quiet-loving trout.
Presently, as you attentively note these features, you are aware of
a sort of footpath proceeding from the stream, and on looking closer
you notice that fresh excrement has been left and that footprints of
a dog-like animal are to be seen in the soft earth. Follow this trail
and perchance, ere many steps have been taken, you come upon the
carmine-spotted body of a two-pound trout, minus head and shoulders, or
a pound silver eel with its broadest part eaten away. You now know that
an otter has been at work, and you must vow that he shall die. But how?
Listen. The track is fresh. Good! Procure the largest rabbit-gin you
can, and after attaching it firmly to a stake driven under water, drive
two more sticks under water exactly where the otter comes ashore, and
set it upon them. Do not bait the trap at all, or the otter will not
come near, but simply set it under water, so that when his ottership
comes to bank with his ill-gotten booty he puts his foot on the plate
of the gin. A good plan also, where this one is not practicable, is to
carefully cut up a sod of dirt in the pathway of the otter, and set
the gin very gingerly, covering it up completely with short grass and
a sprinkling of dirt. In any case use gloves, so that your hands are
not smelt, for, strange as it may seem in an animal getting its food by
sight, the sense of smell is exquisitely developed in the otter. When
caught be very careful not to handle him. His teeth are “orful.”
Daniel, in his “Rural Sports,” says “the trap must be set in and
covered with mud to prevent the otter seeing it. The instant the trap
strikes, the otter plunges into the water with it, when its weight
preventing his rising to the surface soon destroys him.” But I incline
to my own plan in preference. Of course, if the “spoor,” “spraint,” or
“seal” cannot be seen it is advisable to set several traps at intervals
along the bank, covering them lightly with moss.
V. THE SQUIRREL.
At the commencement of this series of articles I referred to the
squirrel, and quoted the words in which Mr. Ruskin describes his
unbounded admiration for this sprightly little fellow. The squirrel
has a very voracious appetite, however, and if he once by accident or
design tastes the luscious richness of pheasant or partridge egg he
becomes a poacher of very extreme character. Game-keepers do not object
to squirrels as a rule, as long as they confine themselves to those
parts of a covert where game are not, though in the case of largely
stocked preserves these parts are not easily found.
When Master “Squiggy,” however, takes to sucking eggs and teaching his
grandmother and uncles, aunts and cousins, to do the same, then it
becomes a manifest duty to snare him and take him away if you do not
kill him. Of course it is not likely that my boy readers will be called
upon to assist professionally in such a proceeding, but I will briefly
describe how squirrels may be caught alive, for when removed from the
place of mischief they make capital pets after a time of patience and
taming.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
It is necessary for two to embark in the proceedings that follow. One
is the climber, and he, I need scarcely say, should be a tolerably good
one. A pair of climbing irons are almost indispensable, and I should
certainly advise boys to get them. He is also provided with a long pole
with a loop of fine twisted brass wire attached to it (Fig. 1).
Now let us term these two warriors A and B. Having spotted a squirrel
and observed him run up a tree, A attaches his irons and prepares to
climb. Before this is done B stands beneath the tree and attracts the
squirrel’s attention, and keeps his eye fixed on him, B never moving
from where he stands. Meanwhile A is gradually approaching from behind
the squirrel, and when he is near enough he slips the loop over the
creature’s head, gives a sharp wrench, and lets the pole, squirrel, and
all drop to the ground to be secured by B. Of course the squirrel is
almost choked, but a firm hand in a thick leather glove soon releases
the frightened animal, and you have to do with him as your pleasure
will. You ought to take a bag with you and instantly pop him into it.
This is the way the men catch squirrels in the country, and is far
better than trapping them so as to cause pain.
I have thus told you how to catch squirrels without materially hurting
them, and I suppose I may as well tell you how to keep them. Well,
having caught the lively young gentleman, keep him in the dark for a
day or two, only occasionally letting him get a glance of the outer
world. Feed him during this period with beechnuts, chestnuts, and by
all means let him have plenty of water. After a time you may take
away all covering from his cage and let him, like yourself, enjoy the
glories of the sunlight. In a very short space of time his captivity
will cease to be so irksome, especially if for the first week or two
you use him to only seeing yourself near.
The squirrel, or at least the common red one of our forest, seems
remarkably intelligent, and its humors vary almost as much in
comparison as those of a child. I kept four, having brought them up
from the nest, and their antics and different moods were a source of
continued amusement. Sometimes Tom would quarrel with a sort of mimic
anger with Jill, and Jim and Sam were almost continually finding fault
with each other over poor unfortunate Lady Jill, whose chief misfortune
seemed to be that she preferred Tom to either of the others. The
affection seemed to be returned, for if we gave a piece of potato to
Tom he instantly passed it over to Jill and shared it. Sometimes entire
good-humor would prevail, when the gambols with each other were a very
pretty sight. This was generally on a fine sunny spring morning after a
good meal of nuts. The cage was large, and a sort of leap-frog was kept
up for half an hour, ending by somebody getting Tom’s temper out over
Miss Jill. I never had a bite from either, and this I attribute to my
never handling them unnecessarily, and never being afraid to take hold
of them carefully but firmly.
Their end was a sad one. I acquired a splendid Persian cat, and the
strangeness of a new habitation made Miss Pussy very spiteful and
bad-tempered. One day I had turned out the four squirrels in order
to clean the cage thoroughly, and they as usual betook themselves out
of the window. With a sudden bound Puss had poor Jill, and with one
scrunch she was dead. Puss then bounded after the others, and they
escaping up a large yew tree I lost sight of all but one forever. What
ultimately became of Jim and Sam I never knew, but Tom would often
show himself in the tree and look down with eyes which seemed to say
mournfully, “Ah, you’ve killed my little wife between you, and I’m
not such a coon as to trust myself within range of her murderers.”
Shortly after this we removed, and thus ended my squirrel-keeping, not,
however, without much regret on my side at least.
VI. BIRD TRAPPING.
Bird-catching has always a fascination for boys, and, indeed, in my
opinion, as a harmless but most interesting pastime, it may be compared
not unfavorably with fishing.
“But,” I hear some one say, “is it not cruel to catch and imprison or
kill our pretty feathered friends, and if so, is it not wrong to teach
boys cruelty?” I answer emphatically “No” to the first of these, and
that reply does away with the other question.
It is not cruel to catch the hawk that preys on kindred species, as
does the shark or pike, or the beautiful kingfisher that ruthlessly
slaughters your innocent baby trout, or the weird and ghostly heron,
whose insatiable maw will ever cry, “Give! Give!” like the daughters of
the horseleech, from every inhabited stream, or the bad-mannered crow,
or the mischievous jay with his egg-eating proclivities.
Then there are some birds, such as pigeons, blackbirds, thrushes,
redwings and plovers, and the water-fowl, such as moorhens, widgeon,
teal, ducks, etc., which are excellent eating, and who shall say that
to kill and eat necessarily implies cruelty?
“But about the pretty song-birds?” you say. Well, now, what bird
is happier in captivity than your consequential cock bullfinch, or
merry-voiced chaffinch? And are there more annoying birds in existence
to those who live by the soil? If you doubt me, go and ask the gardener
and hear what he says about Chaffy’s and Bully’s work on the fruitbuds.
Then remember what present pleasure the joyous song of the well-fed and
warmly-caged linnet or siskin gives to all; but perchance most of all
to some one whose hours are spent wearily on the bed of pain.
Of course, catching birds for the mere sake of doing it is wrong, and
pray is not fishing liable to the same objection? To go out for the
mere purpose of bringing home lots of fish, which are afterwards put
to no use, is an abuse of an otherwise harmless sport to which such
great and good men as Izaak Walton, Sir Henry Wotton, Archbishop Paley,
Charles Kingsley, Mr. John Bright, and many others, have been and are
devoted.
Besides, the methods I shall explain, except for the larger birds of
prey--_vermin_, in fact--need cause no pain to the captured bird, or
if it does, only of the most instant character, which is over when the
bird is dead or caged. The wildest birds require only proper treatment
to render them happy in confinement, and of this fact I was never more
forcibly convinced than when, visiting a very experienced bird-catcher
the other day, I saw a huge tabby tom-cat reposing in the cage of a
cock gold-finch, whose sweet song must have lulled the cat to sleep and
a forgetfulness of its fierce destroying instincts. Hearing it sing, I
could not help recalling Walton’s pious and beautiful reflection anent
the nightingale: “Lord, what music hast Thou provided for Thy saints in
heaven when Thou affordest bad men such music on earth!”
Finally, in defense of the bird catcher’s art, let me urge the benefit
young people derive from an intimate knowledge of the natural history
of birds and their surroundings. As in fishing the best naturalist in
fish is invariably the best angler, so whether he be scientific or not,
the best ornithologist is, by virtue of his knowledge, inevitably the
most successful bird-catcher. Nothing can conduce to an unaffected love
of nature--the “time vesture” of God, Carlyle terms it--more readily
than close observation of the habits, instincts, and intelligences of
the creatures over which man has been given dominion.
Birds, the flight of which man, with all his mechanical ingenuity, had
never yet been able to imitate, are of the most beautiful and wonderful
of these, and their capture within the limits I have laid down is a
pastime at once innocent, amusing, instructive and profitable. One word
more. Be gentle boys, and then presently become gentle_men_ in the true
sense of the word, and handle each captive, if it be alive, mercifully,
“as if you loved him,” inflicting no unnecessary pain or discomfort in
any wise.
Having then in some sort justified bird-catching, if indeed this
was needed, let me say how I intend treating the subject in the few
following chapters. First, with your attention, I will refer to
bird-catching by net; secondly, catching birds by bird-lime; and
thirdly, trapping birds, which latter division will embrace the various
use of the springs, traps, snares, gins, etc., in vogue amongst
professional trappers, game-keepers and others. As the directions
will be severely practical, any one will be able to succeed from
them--assuming, of course, he has the requisite patience. There is
one thing, however, to be borne in mind, that is--there is a Wild
Birds’ Preservation Act, which, inefficient and muddling as it is, is
nevertheless the law of the land, and in it a close time is provided,
during which bird-catching is illegal.
VII. BIRD-CATCHING BY NET.
There are several sorts of nets used for various species of birds, but
for song birds the most common is termed the clap-net, of which Fig. 1
is an outline representation. In looking carefully at it you will see
I have left one side without netting; this, however, should of course
have a net; consider, therefore, the two sides as similar to that on
which the net is shown.
[Illustration: Fig. 1.]
Now the net from which the drawing was taken was somewhat different
from the usual kind. Those ordinarily used are of twine, and netted
diagonally with mesh three quarter inches.
This one, however, if of silk undressed fishing line, and of half-inch
mesh, netted with a square mesh instead of diamond-shape or diagonal.
At each end of it are attached jointed poles which fit in each other
like joints of a fishing-rod; these are when put together six feet six
inches in length, but the net itself is broader to allow of a certain
amount of bagging.
If this were not so the birds would be liable to run along underneath
the net and escape, whereas as now arranged they entangle themselves in
the soft silk meshes. Of course silk is not necessary, but it is best
if expense is no object. A twine net will do very well for boys, and
if they have mastered the instructions for netting they need have no
difficulty in making their own.
The engraving, if carefully looked into, explains itself, but I will,
to further elucidate the matter, tell you how it is laid. First, bear
in mind the net in the cut is now placed on the ground as it should
be laid; this is how to do it. Place both nets spread out as shown,
roughly on the ground (you can measure their proper relative distances
afterward), and drive in the farthest peg (_i. e._, farthest from
bird-catcher), to which is attached both the “top” and “bottom” line
(see cut). Let this peg be firmly driven in, for on it the chief strain
falls. Now plant the peg at the end of the jointed pole farthest from
the bird-catcher (E). The pole is linked to this peg either by means
of two staples or loops of rope attached to both in such a way as to
act as a hinge. Now stretch the bottom between the two jointed poles
as shown, driving the peg in firmly as before. Finally plant the peg
_nearest_ E, having stretched the bottom line tightly throughout.
Measure now a space of width sufficient to allow the two nets when
drawn over toward each other to fall, covering their _top_ edges about
six inches with each other. Thus, as in the cut, if the net be six feet
six inches broad you must allow twelve feet six inches between them.
Having done this, fix the other net in a manner precisely similar to
its fellow. C on the engraving, as can be seen, is the pull-line, and
it is joined as is shown to a line stretching at right angles between
the four top line ends of the jointed poles. The effect of pulling this
is to bring the nets up and over, both falling in the twelve feet six
inches space, and thus inclosing anything within that space. The birds
are enticed by the cage-birds in the first instance (see cut), and
finally by the play-birds perched on the play-stick (B).
[Illustration: Fig. 2.]
The play-bird is a bird of the same kind as those sought to be
captured, which is attached by means of miniature harness (to be
presently shown) to the play-stick, and it being comparatively free it
proves very attractive (see Fig. 2). C is the bird. This stick is of
three parts: A, a piece of wood made like Fig. 3; and B, a piece of
brass tubing beaten flat at one end and placed on the stick, which may
be a hazel or ash twig. A hole is punctured through this tube, and a
peg passed through it holds it in its place, as well as serving as an
axle on which its movements work as prompted by the play-line, which
passes also through A, as shown in Fig. 2.
[Illustration: Fig. 3.]
I have said the bird is harnessed and tethered to the stick at C (Fig.
2). This harnessing is perfectly painless to the little fellow, and
consists of a sort of double loop affixed to a swivel (Fig. 6). The
head of the bird is passed through and the loops are drawn down over
and round its wings close to the body. Of course they are drawn and
tied just tight enough to fit the body, and the swivel is attached;
then a piece of fine twine of about a foot and a half in length
connects the play-bird with its stick. The method of using this bird
is as follows: Directly the call-birds--which are cock birds in full
song--have attracted others of their species, the bird-catcher gently
pulls the play line, raising and lowering the stick. This prompts the
play-bird to use its wings in a perfectly natural manner, and the
consequence is, the wild birds becoming bolder at seeing one of their
brethren so apparently unrestrained, venture in the forbidden space,
and with no fear visible at once proceed to exchange civilities. As
soon as the bird-catcher observes the bird well in the reach of the
nets, he pulls swiftly and strongly at C (Fig. 1), and the nets close
over both the play or decoy bird and those he has innocently lured to
their captivity. Now this in no case injures them, and running up,
the bird-catcher places them in a large airy cage opening inwards,
and commonly covers them over with a cloth, lest in the first moments
of restraint they injure themselves against the bars. Two or more
play-birds should be used, so that not one may be over-tired.
[Illustration: Fig. 6.]
Thus you have the whole apparatus of “clap”-netting and its use
explained. Now for a few hints as to where to set a net. First, do not
forget to mark the habits of the birds yourself, and so learn where to
find them at all seasons. Larks and linnets are easily found in open
plains and by water brooks, goldfinches come in autumn to feed off the
thistledown, starling swarm as winter comes on and are met with in all
sorts of pastures where some growth of underwood or deciduous trees
are found. For shy birds let your full line be quite forty yards long;
and a good plan for blackbirds, starlings, and other wary birds is to
lay your nets and get behind a hedge or other hiding-place. A little
ingenuity in this way will often procure a goodly stroke of success.
The other morning after a frost I caught fourteen blackbirds close to a
long laurel hedge, hiding myself in a large rhododendron.
Sometimes hawks, and even birds of a non-preying but quite different
species to your call-bird, are caught in the clap-net. The former
usually pounces down upon or near the poor little play-bird, and thus
the biter is bitten. “Serve him right,” say you; so say I. The other
birds are probably only curious to know what it is all about.
This kind of net is the best for amateurs, and I shall therefore not
describe that sort which is used by professionals for lark and other
birds at night time, often, I am sorry to say, when it is illegal, and
when partridges and pheasants can be taken. Kingfishers may be caught
by stretching a fine net loosely across an archway of a stream on which
they are known to be, and sparrows may be taken in any numbers from old
thatches, barn, rick, etc., at night in the following manner:
Stretch your net on two cane poles and let two people carry it upright;
another holds a lantern at about the middle of this net on the outer
side from the barn to be “netted.” Let another, taking a long pole,
buffet about the interior under the eaves and in the nooks and
corners; the birds will then fly out and make for the light, only to
be entangled in the net. Beating the hedgerows at night will produce
the same effect; and, let me tell you, sparrow pudding is not to be
despised.
Water-birds, such as dabchicks, moorhens, and even ducks, may be
taken by means of nets stretched across ditches and “drawns” which
they frequent. I have especially been successful with those little
nuisances of the fish culturist, the dabchick, or dapper as they are
called in some places, by means of a common dragnet, which I use for
trout catching in spawning time, but as my readers have already the
facilities I have in this direction, I need not say more about that
style of netting.
VIII. BIRD-CATCHING WITH TRAPS.
The word “trap” in the title of this book is intended to be made use
of in a somewhat wide and also narrow sense. Under it I shall include
what would otherwise be called a snare--namely, the “springe,” or
“springle.” On the other hand I shall make use of it in what may seem
a rather restricted sense, inasmuch as that I do not intend to tell
you how to catch birds by means of the “gin,” or steel trap. Mind
you, there are some birds--such as the magpie and crow--which it is
almost impossible to catch in any other manner. For them the deadly,
pain-dealing “gin” is justifiable. For the use of boys, I do not,
however, recommend it in bird-catching; it always maims if it does not
kill outright, and thus, should any of you desire to stuff the bird you
have captured, its injured plight is much against its appearance.
The springe, as many of you know, is a horse-hair loop fixed to some
immovable object, such as the branch of a tree, etc. Mr. Montagu Brown,
in his “Practical Taxidermy,” thus describes the making of it. “Here,”
he says, “I have a black horsehair about two feet long; I double it,
holding it between the right hand finger and thumb, leaving a little
loose loop about half an inch long; from this point I proceed by an
overhand motion of the thumb to twist it up. On reaching the bottom I
make a small knot to prevent it unrolling, then pushing the knotted end
through the eye of the loop, I thus form a loose noose. I then attach
a piece of wire to the free end by a twisted loop (Fig. 7). With about
half a dozen of these coiled in an oval tin box I am ready to snare any
small bird whose haunt I may discover.”
[Illustration: Fig. 7.]
This springe is varied in a variety of ways, but it is remarkably
deadly for nearly all birds. The piece of wire is of course twisted
round a branch or other fixed point, and the noose, for such it is, is
so arranged that the bird pecks through it, and so gets “haltered.”
I always make my springes of silkworm gut, used in fishing, as being
stronger and practically invisible.
Ducks, moorhens, and dabchicks can be caught with nooses or springes
made of a sufficient number of hairs or strands of gut, and suspended
to a line fixed across the ditches and small streams they are known to
frequent. A springe mounted as shown in Fig. 8 (A in 9) can also be
fixed in the ground, with the noose hanging over the probable spot of
emergence from the water of either of these birds. Their exact “run”
can easily be determined by the freshness of the excrement. Snipes are
to be taken by simply attaching the springe to a bullet and burying
this in the soft oose or mud where snipe are known to feed or run.
Plovers can be taken in a similar way.
[Illustration: Fig. 8.]