The nighthawks lay their eggs on bare ground and, surprising as it may seem, often raise a family on the flat gravel roofs of city buildings. Maybe you have heard them on a quiet evening making a booming sound which is caused by air rushing through the feathers of their wings when they dive or turn quickly. They only make that sound during the breeding season. Their eggs look for all the world like pieces of gravel and even the little birds are so protected by color that they might be just little bits of rock or moss. Nighthawks spend the sunny part of the day resting on the ground or maybe on a rocky place, but come evening you will see them in the sky.
On still, warm evenings the darkness is filled with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights as the lightning bugs fly about in the open places and along the shore, but not so much over the water. It is one of the sights of summer I never tire of watching. The light of the firefly, which is really a beetle, has no heat and is one of nature’s many mysteries. Most people don’t know that the eggs of the firefly and its grub, which we call a glowworm, give off a steady light.
Some years ago I worked with a Finnish miner who told me that in the old days in his country the only light the miners had in the underground workings was made by fireflies which they caught and put in bottles. He said their kind gave off more light than ours. Later I tried out the idea when I went into an old mining tunnel. At first I didn’t think much of the lightning-bug lantern, but as my eyes got used to the darkness I found it quite a help. In certain parts of South America natives tie little nets filled with fireflies around their ankles to light their way on the dark damp jungle trails.
The Chief and I have been fishing a stream that runs into the Manitoupeepagee half a day’s travel north and our luck was good, so we had all the fried brook trout we could eat. The black flies and mosquitoes are pretty bad right now, but we don’t mind them much.
Coming over the Cache Lake carry on the way back we were talking about the best way of getting a canoe on your shoulders with the least work. It is a knack that once learned is never forgotten. Take hold of the canoe about five feet back from the end and give a quick lift, keeping your arms straight and stiff. As it goes up swing it over until the canoe is right above your head and then walk your hands down the gunwales until you are under the paddles where she will balance just right on your shoulders. And be sure the paddles are lashed tight to the thwarts. I have seen some nasty falls caused by paddles slipping or breaking away from their lashings.
Once you get moving over the portage you soon get into the way of taking short steps that have a sort of rhythm which prevents the paddles jarring too hard on the shoulder bones. If a portage is long, I spell myself once in a while by hooking the bow of the canoe over a low limb and stepping out from under to rest. That trick saves the trouble of lifting it up again. There was a day when I would go right through without a stop just to be able to say I could do it. I’ve got more sense now.
On our trip the Chief made some spoons by cleaning mussel shells and fastening them on little split sticks with a notch cut on the inside of one half of the split to keep the shell from slipping out. He scraped off the black coating on the outside of the shells, wound the handles with string to hold them tight, and the spoons were ready for use.
I don’t think there is any prettier sight in the woods in June than a mother partridge and her little golden brown balls of fluff, which are not much bigger than a hickory nut when they are hatched. The mother builds her nest on the ground and while she is hatching the pale brown eggs marked with darker spots of brown, she is always on the watch for enemies. Some people believe that the mother gives out no scent while she is on the nest, so if that is true when foxes and other enemies find her it is mostly by accident.
If you come on the hen partridge and her little ones, which may number from six to fifteen, or sometimes a few more, she gives a sharp little cluck and instantly every little golden ball disappears. If all our young ones obeyed like young partridges we would not have much trouble with them. Try as you will, once those little fellows hide it is just about impossible to find them, even though some of them are sitting right on top of dead brown leaves, because their color protects them. At such a time the mother, always brave, will flutter in front of you, pretending that she has a broken wing, dragging herself along with the hope that you will follow and be drawn away from her babies.
During a spring rain storm and at night, when the air may be chilly, the little ones snuggle under their mother’s warm wings. In about two weeks young partridges begin to flutter into the air for short distances and by the time they are a month or six weeks old they can get off the ground in a hurry and fly quite a distance. In midsummer on warm dry days you see partridges in sunny places on an old tote road where they love to take dust baths. In the early spring they eat many insects and some vegetable foods, but later they turn to fruits and seeds. In winter the birds can stand very low temperatures and live on buds and even bits of bark.
These warm days the dogs spend a lot of time in the lake. Wolf just paddles at the edge, but Tripper has turned into a loon hound. Every time he sees one he starts swimming after it.The birds seem to enjoy it and they dive when the dog gets near. That always puzzles Tripper and you can almost see the smile on old Wolf’s face as he watches from the shore. He is old enough to know you can’t catch a loon that way.
I noticed a turtle sunning itself on a rock in the lake one day, so I got myself a piece of pine and whittled one just like it, but only an inch and a half long. I colored it with a mixture of roofing tar and kerosene, which makes a very good wood stain. You can wipe the stain on with a piece of cloth if you have no brush, and rub it off when you get just the shade you want. This kind of stain penetrates wood quickly, so if you want a light color wipe it off a few minutes after applying. You can get it as dark as you like by repeating the coats or by adding more tar to the kerosene. When I finished my turtle I glued it on a small piece of rock which gave it a lifelike appearance and made it useful as a paperweight.
Carving a turtle is not all I have been doing lately, for I made myself a horn to signal Hank at his cabin. It all started when Hank’s mother sent me an old buffalo horn that she found stored away in the attic in their home down in the city. Knowing us, she figured we were pretty sure to put it to some good use. Well, it didn’t take me long to get to work. It made me sad to think of the days when hundreds of thousands of those big shaggy brown fellows roamed the western plains. Too bad they were killed off, although there are still a few left in the national parks. It just goes to show the need for laws to give the wild things a chance and at the same time let hunters have their share.
Making a horn is not very difficult, for all you have to do is cut the tip off about three inches from the point and then bore a hole so that the tip when reversed will fit into the horn to make a mouthpiece. Of course if a fellow had a regular bugle mouthpiece it would be even easier, but I like the idea of using what I had at hand. The wide end of the tip must be hollowed out so you can use your tongue to help make the right sounds. The tip is solid and it takes a little care and some patience to drill a hole through it. Once that is done a file helps to shape it into a mouthpiece. When I was finished I polished the horn by scraping it with a piece of broken glass, then I rubbed it down with fine sandpaper, and finally burnished it with a little chunk of soft pine covered with candle wax. I filed little grooves around the horn near each end to hold a rawhide thong in place.
Hank came over the day I finished the horn and found me practicing. He said all the critters in the woods must think some new animal with a terrible voice had come to the big woods, but I am proud of the sounds I make, and I am getting better all the time. The sounds all depend on the way you fit your lips into the mouthpiece and how you use your tongue to make different notes. Hank wanted me to try it some quiet evening to see if he could hear it at his cabin, which, as you know, is on Beaver Tail Lake, two miles away. He said he would try to signal me with his drum or fire a shot from his gu
n it he heard it. Well, sir, at twilight one evening when the woods were as quiet as a sleeping mouse, I let loose several good strong blasts on the old horn and waited. I almost jumped out of my britches when I heard the faint thumping of Hank’s drum answering me. We kept on signaling until I ran out of wind. I figure we can work out regular signals like three blasts for “Pie. Come and get it!”
As I have said before, Hank’s a great fellow for building things, and now he has an idea to make one of those long wooden horns boatmen used on the rivers out west years ago. Mighty powerful and nice sounding they were, I hear.
Now that I have that horn finished, I have to get my camping outfit out and go over everything to make sure it is in good shape for a trip I am going on with the Chief and Hank in August. One thing I am right proud of is my old frying pan which has a square brass socket handle into which you can slip a long sapling and so cook away from the smoke and heat of the fire. The best kind of pan for camping is the common sheet type which is lighter and quicker heating than the cast iron ones. If you want to make one all you have to do is saw off the handle four inches from the rim and then rivet on a socket one inch square and four inches long. Copper or brass is best, and be sure to use flat-headed rivets so the sapling handle will slip in easily. A pan with such a short handle takes up very little room and certainly is handy for cooking.
I like to travel light enough so that, if the portage is short, I can carry the canoe and my pack over in one trip. All the cooking and eating tools I need are my frying pan, two tin pails, a tin bowl and a cup that all nest into each other. There is also a tin plate, a large and a small spoon, and a knife and fork. That is all any man needs except a good sheath knife for cutting bacon, cleaning fish, and such like. And I make sure the handles on my pails are riveted or hooked on. Soldered handle-lugs melt off and drop your meal into the fire. If you can’t get any other kind, melt the lugs off, punch holes through the pail just below the rim, and fit the handle hooks through them. I almost forgot to say that I always keep a quart can with a top that clinches on for my bacon fat. That is important, for fat is mighty good to fry fish in, to make biscuits, and for many other things. I keep every drop, for it is nourishing food in the woods, and you can’t make good flapjacks without it. I keep coffee, tea, and pepper in tight cans, too. No need for a coffee pot. A pail is just as good and a sight easier to clean.
I can carry the canoe over in one trip
Maybe you have other ideas, but I like to carry most of my grub in little canvas sacks. I’m not much of a needle-worker, but every man in the woods has to learn to sew on buttons and stitch up rips in his clothes, so I knew how to sew up some canvas bags for beans, prunes, apricots, oatmeal, sugar, rice, and raisins. They are about fourteen inches long and nine inches wide with bigger ones for the flour and sugar, but everyone has his own ideas on size. I dip the bags in melted candle wax, then slosh them in hot water to take out the extra wax. That treatment helps to keep out the dampness. I sew deer-hide thongs near the tops to tie them up. Cord or cotton tape would do, or a leather shoelace. Don’t forget they have to be hung or packed in pails in camp, so mice and squirrels won’t get at them. They love the wax as well as the contents.
I am reminded to tell you about the needles I carry in my packsack just in case I snag my pants. I can use any of those needles to find my way if I ever lose my compass. I have a magnet and I rub the needles across the open end before I start on a trip. All you have to do to use one as a compass is to grease it slightly with a little bacon fat or rub it across a candle and then, holding it in a looped grass blade, lower it very quietly into a puddle of water. It will at once swing in a North-South line, but what you want to be sure of is to test the needles by your compass before you leave so you will know which end points North. Or if you have no compass handy you could check it by the North Star, which is easily found by sighting along the up-and-down stars on the end of the Great Dipper. The North Star points to the earth’s North Pole, which is not exactly the same as the North Magnetic Pole to which the compass needle points. But for all general purposes that will be close enough. Don’t put the needle in water in a metal pail for then it will be influenced by the metal. It is better to make a very small pool about the size of a cup at the edge of a lake or brook, and after placing the needle in it stand back just as you do with a compass so your knife or any other metal on you won’t disturb it.
Just to amuse himself Hank magnetized his hunting knife and, tying a thread to it at a point where it would balance, suspended it from the thread. For a while the knife revolved and finally came to rest with the blade pointing North as Hank proved with his compass. We agreed it was a good idea but it takes too long for the knife to come to rest to be any good except in an emergency.
As a matter of fact if a fellow didn’t have a magnet in the woods there is a way of making one if you can get hold of a bar of steel. It must be steel, not iron. An old piece of drill steel or a good-sized file would do. The only other tool you need is a hammer. The idea is to line up the steel bar with the earth’s magnetic field, which is North, or that is close enough. You can get that easily by sighting on the Pole Star. Then, keeping the bar lined up with the North, set one end down on something solid and, holding the other end up at an angle corresponding to the latitude for your location, strike it several hard blows with the hammer. Just to give you an example if you live in the vicinity of forty-five degrees north latitude you would hold the steel up at a forty-five degree angle. The hammering lines up the steel with the earth’s magnetic field and so magnetizes the bar. Once that is done you have a permanent bar magnet for magnetizing needles.
And there is still another way of magnetizing a needle. If you have a wet or dry battery and a coil of fine wire made of about 100 turns, you simply insert the needle in the coil and hook the two ends to the battery for a few seconds and the job is done. As a matter of fact, if you have an odd piece of copper and a piece of zinc, a glass jar or crock, and a little caustic soda, you can make a fine wet battery. You make up a solution of one part by weight of caustic soda to four parts of water and then suspend the plates by wires in the solution from wooden rods. The copper plate is the positive pole and the zinc plate is the negative side.
If you magnetize a bar by the hammering method it is interesting to suspend it on a string so that it just balances, and you will find that the north pole of the bar will slowly swing to the North.
While he was visiting us one time, Mr. Beedee made a compass from nothing but a little round pill box, a pin, and an empty .22 caliber cartridge, with the transparent covering from a cigarette package for a top. The cartridge was used for the bearing for the pointer, so he sharpened a nail, wrapped paper around it until it exactly fitted the cartridge, and tapped it lightly to get a little indentation in the center of the cap so that it would balance nicely on a pin which was fastened to the center of the pill box with a few drops of glue. He bent the pin near the head to form a little base so that it would hold firmly when it was glued down. Then he took a magnetized needle and fastened it to the top of the cartridge with a drop of the tar that I use for patching my roof. Glue would do just as well. We all gathered around when he tested it and sure enough the needle swung straight to the North.
I made one for myself, making the case of half an inch of birch bark from a decayed sapling about two inches in diameter from which I could clean the soft wood just as we do for making candle molds. The little circle of birch bark about half an inch high was glued on a flat piece of bark and when it was dry I trimmed it to the shape of the circle.
You can also make a compass by using an old safety razor blade instead of a needle for the pointer. The bearing which revolves on the pin is half an inch of lead pencil with a small hole drilled into the lead about an eighth of an inch from the end. The piece of pencil is then whittled to fit the middle opening in the razor blade and then twisted to hold between the edges.
All this talk about compasses gets me to thinking about the wea
ther and I wonder what we would do without it. It is my belief that in addition to giving us our lakes and streams, the forests and the crops, the weather has done more than any one thing in nature to help men to make friends. Some folks are naturally quiet and many are shy and do not seem to know how to get going with other people, but once you get them started by talking about the weather they are pretty sure to open up. It is just like driving a wedge into a log that is hard to split. A man may have no opinion on politics or what the world is coming to, but he is pretty sure to have an opinion on the weather. For, be it sunshine, rain, a blizzard, or a hurricane, the weather means something to every living one of us.
I met one of my best and oldest friends on a train and our friendship began when he glanced out the window and said, “That sky’s a weather breeder or I’m no judge of what looks like a mare’s tail!” And I met another fellow, who writes me to this very day, when we made camp close to one another on the shore of a lake, and got to talking about weather signs.
The Chief warns that it is risky to put your faith in any one sign. The thing to do is to watch several signs and see how they check up. Take a yellow sunset, for example. That is pretty often a sign of a storm, because the color comes from the sun shining through damp air that is still a long way off. When you see a yellow sunset you are just as likely as not to notice that smoke from your cabin chimney drops down toward the ground instead of rising, the reason being that when the atmospheric pressure begins to fall smoke finds it hard to rise. And if there is a ring around the moon on the night of a yellow sunset you can be pretty sure rain is on the way. If the ring is fairly clear in outline the rain may not reach you for a day, but if it is a soft or misty circle it will not be long coming.
Cache Lake Country Page 12
