Part 7 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: Learning to Walk]
This little family had not received many lessons in the way of providing for itself, and when we cut the ducklings off from their mother, fear was uppermost in all their actions. The instinct of fear gradually left them and in its place the instinct of hunger evidently gained the ascendancy. In the beginning they would swim and paddle over the water in great alarm, calling with a faint ”quack, quack,” trying to dive and distance their pursuers. Occasionally they would walk a little on the sh.o.r.e and then take to the water again. We followed them up and down until they finally seemed to pay little attention to us, and how interesting it was to watch them diving in the water for bugs and minnows to satisfy their hunger! Several times we saw them bring their prey, small minnows or mollusca, to the surface and swallow it. When we first met in the morning they could scarcely dive under the surface of the water. In the afternoon they would disappear for quite a while at a time, and as each in turn would appear and disappear they kept us guessing as to the duration and depth of their dives. Thus we left them.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Reflections]
As we floated leisurely along, the trees skirting the edge of the forest cast upon the surface of the lake their long reflections of green, mingled with the red, blue, and purple of the sun's rays. We heard the harsh notes of the kingfisher (_Ceryle alcyon_) as it skimmed gracefully over the water and, ascending with a quick movement, perched on an old dead limb. With the field-gla.s.ses could be distinctly seen her belted markings of white, her ashy blue and rufous color, and her elevated occipital crest. She remained for some time motionless, according to her characteristic habit, when like a flash, with a rapid movement of her long, pointed wings, she made a plunge, disappeared for an instant, and then with a small fish made a graceful flight to her sylvan retreat.
Here she delights to build her nest in a perpendicular bank washed at the base by a swift current, a protection from intruders. Quietly the canoe entered the mouth of a little creek and at an abrupt bend there was almost a collision between the man in the boat and the kingfisher returning to its home. With a series of rattles, backing of pedals, and evolutions in the air, the frightened bird, naturally timid and of secluded habits, hastened away.
The gnarled and picturesque old birch, with its smooth white-spotted bark twisting and curling in every direction, covered with ages of moss and lichen, spread its drooping limbs gracefully over the water. Among the slender twigs, with their long-pointed, triangular, saw-toothed leaves, were many redpolls (_Acanthis linaria_) feeding on the brown buds, clinging in all conceivable positions, like boys picking cherries.
The day was hot, and late in the afternoon a warmer stratum of air saturated with vapor was being driven up the mountain-side. We knew by the uniform gray tint that a nimbus cloud was forming and we could expect a heavy rain erelong. As we glided over the smooth water of the lake, looking anxiously for a good temporary camp site, large drops of rain, spreading a silvery spray over the surface as they struck it, hastened our progress. Heading our craft direct for sh.o.r.e, the oarsman plied the oars with full force, expecting to make a jump to beach as the bow neared sh.o.r.e, but just about the time he straightened up the boat struck a rock and away he went, head first, over the duffel and into the water. A hearty laugh, and we were tugging away at the boat, doing our utmost to get out the tent and save harmless our bed and board.
Fortunately on the edge of the bank was a gra.s.sy spot large enough to spread a small wall tent. Having our tent-poles with us, already cut, we formed a crotch by tying ropes around the ends. The center pole was thrown into the crotch, and while I steadied the frame Charley slashed four pins out of young saplings, the four corners of the tent were staked down, and in less time than it takes to write it we had a good shelter for the outfit.
The rain was increasing while we rustled the outfit to cover. With the woods appet.i.te we hastened the frying pan onto the fire as the resinous smoke curled in rings gracefully away from the tent, and by the time the pan was hot and the solid chunks were aglow, speckled beauties, fresh from the riffles, were curling and drawing, but the rain-drops, sizzling and sputtering, marred their symmetry by making them stick to the pan.
In the meantime the forked pole was punched into the soft soil until it leaned at an angle above the fire, and the coffee-pot was soon boiling over, adding its sweet aroma to the already fragrant atmosphere.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Radiant Splendor]
It was evident that the weather was clearing up. Looking toward the purple foothills the air was rapidly taking up the vapor and mist, and the sun peeped out from its concealment, illuminating the lake with radiant splendor. We walked up the old lumber road, abandoned many years and almost covered with underbrush, to a deserted cabin, with its tumble-down roof and moss-grown sides. A small stream of pure, cold water gurgled as it disappeared under a decayed and broken corduroy bridge,--an ideal spot to cast for trout. A little beyond, the jack pines towered their heads high in the air, each vying with the other for supremacy over the light and sun. Close by stood a beautiful birch, which, after the manner of those who wear a band of black c.r.a.pe around the arm in respect for the memory of some dear one, wore a band of c.r.a.pe encircling its very trunk, in token of its own premature death. The work of a novice or the spirit of destruction was plainly evident, for the living cambium had been destroyed and pulled off with the bark. The wilful destruction of trees casts a sadness over me when I think how easy it is in a few moments to destroy that which it has taken the wise Creator years to develop. No wonder the spirit of conservation is spreading over the country!
A short cut through the woods disclosed timber in every stage of decay, from the tall, stately birch, frayed at the very top, like a bald-headed man, to the giant lying prostrate on the ground, uprooted by the wind years before and covered with moss and decaying leaves. As you step upon the moss, down you go to your knees into the rotten trunk, and it seems to say, ”Dust thou art, to dust thou shalt return.”
When we arrived at camp several Canada jays (_Perisoreus canadensis_) were in evidence, examining every nook and corner and exercising their well-known powerful instinct in this respect; in fact, their curiosity is so overpowering that they have no fear of man and in a short time become very tame. They are well-known camp robbers, and carry away everything that strikes their fancy. In this instance they were busy toting away into an old tree-top remnants of trout, both cooked and uncooked.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Whiskey Jack]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Nest and Eggs of the White-Throated Sparrow]
Towards evening, a dead stillness pervaded the air, broken occasionally by the ”hoot, hoot” of an owl and the sharp smack of the beaver's tail on the water as he was disturbed in his night prowlings. Through the stillness came to us the sweet notes of the white-throated sparrow (_Zonotrichia albicollis_) roosting among the fragrant boughs of the balsam fir. His song may have been inspired by the changed and refres.h.i.+ng atmosphere, or perhaps he was inquiring about the welfare of his little mate as she brooded over her four wee brown-speckled eggs carefully laid in the small arched house on a cus.h.i.+on of moss lined with fine gra.s.s and rootlets.
Arranging our bed of balsam boughs, we were just about ready to blow out the light, when my half-breed guide, who held the candle in his hand, suggested that he offer up a little prayer. I a.s.sented to his desire and he knelt on the boughs with the candle in his hand, while with face upturned he remained silent in this suppliant att.i.tude for some time.
The mellow light of the candle on his swarthy, upturned face, amidst the quiet solemnity of the night, was very impressive and turned my earnest thought to the higher things of life. It touched me very deeply. I thought if this simple child of the forest had so much to be thankful for, how much more we, a happy, prosperous people.
Just as the half-risen sun kissed the tips of the mountains, we pushed our little craft from the sh.o.r.e. Gently the current caught the stern, and like a magnet drew the boat towards the head of the Lower Humber,--gently at first, but faster and faster as we neared the rapids.
The woodman with his ax had been at work. Floating silently with the current were two large tree-trunks felled by the ax of the lumberman.
The one, with grayish-brown bark, is known as the white spruce (_Picea canadensis_), a tree until recently of no value, its foliage nasty smelling, its wood soft and brittle. When burned it cracks and throws off sparks that eat holes in the wearing apparel of the camper-out. The other, with its white resinous bark, was the canoe birch (_Betula papyrifera_), which has given pleasure to man from time immemorial, and is used in so many ways by both Indian and white hunters. On the latter three white gulls, with their mantles of black, were standing with heads bowed, as though respectful mourners at the funeral of the n.o.ble birch that was moving faster and faster towards the rapids. About the time the log reached the brink of the boiling and seething waters the mourners left it to its fate. The current tossed and pitched it in every conceivable direction, and at last plunged it into the billows head-on, where it disappeared, and after being lost to sight for some time finally floated gracefully into an eddy not much the worse for wear and tear, turning around like an animate being, while the little voices of the forest seemed to unite in praise of their hero. The old spruce with its soft substance appeared tattered and torn--”unwept, unhonored, and unsung” by any except the new man--the pulp manufacturer.
At the head of the rapids we made a landing and walked through a beautiful strip of woods to select a camping-site. When we reached the foot of the rapids we found a place to our liking. I suggested to the half-breed that while he prepared a dwelling-place I would go and shoot the rapids with the boat. He positively refused to let me go, and in fact would not allow me to get in the boat for fear we should capsize, saying that several of those who had tried to run the river at this point had lost their lives. When I saw our little craft float the rapids like a duck and swing gracefully into the haven of safety, I naturally felt relieved. We pitched our tent on a gra.s.sy bank above the water where it surged back into an eddy, as though it was tired after its swift and tumultuous pa.s.sage over the bowlders, and longed to tarry for a short time to enjoy the quiet and peaceful pool. We spent several days in this locality, roaming among the spruce and pines. Under the secluded spruce the bunchberries (_Cornus canadensis_) love to grow and blossom.
After the flowers fade, from the whorls come cl.u.s.ters of red berries that, mingling with the moss, work out fantastic patterns on the beautiful natural carpet.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Bunchberries]
Into the pool were brought many insects, larvae, and frogs, which invited schools of speckled trout to enjoy the quiet waters where we took advantage of the natural haven for our little craft.
Toward evening a colony of tree swallows (_Tachycineta bicolor_) invaded the surrounding valley, feeding on the numerous insects. As we watched their flight the under white plumage looked like silver streaks. So rapid were their movements that the wings were scarcely perceptible, and when they skimmed the surface of the meadow and rose gracefully over the willows below us, the beautiful cerulean of their upper plumage so harmonized with the deep blue of a rainbow which spanned the heavens at that moment, that the air seemed to s.h.i.+mmer and sparkle with light and motion.