Birds and All Nature Vol VII, No. 1, January 1900

The question of interest to-day is how was it possible to destroy so many animals in so short a time and what methods were employed? Many were destroyed by stampeding over precipices. In 1867 two thousand buffaloes became entangled in the quicksands of the Platte river. At another time a herd was lost by breaking through the ice of Lac Qui Parle in Minnesota. The cold winters of the north killed many. But man was their greatest foe. He soon found that the buffaloes had a value. The Indians slaughtered them for their skins, bone and for food. The white man, however, killed for sport, for the hides and heads, and to provide the gangs of railroad men with meat. The animal at this time had a value estimated at $5, which was sufficient to attract an army of destroyers. One firm in New York between 1876 and 1884 paid for hides alone nearly $1,000,000. The government never interfered. The real extermination of the buffalo, in the opinion of Prof. Holder, was caused by the demands of trade, aided and abetted by sportsmen, Indians, and others; but the blame really lies with the government that in all these years permitted a few ignorant congressmen to block legislation in favor of the protection of the bison, so that all the efforts of humanitarians were defeated and the bills when passed pigeon holed.

The still hunter was the most insidious enemy of the buffalo, a single man, by sneaking upon a herd, having been known to kill one thousand in a single season. Capt. Jack Bridges, of Kansas, killed 1,142 buffaloes in six weeks. In the different states there were regular killing outfits that cost, in rifles, horses, carts, etc., from $2,000 to $5,000. Such methods developed some famous characters. Buffalo Bill (Col. W. F. Cody) was one. He contracted with the Kansas Pacific railroad to furnish them with all the buffalo the men could eat as the road was built; and, according to Mr. Cody's statement, they ate 4,280 buffaloes in eighteen months, for which he received $500 per month, "the price he paid for his title."

There were living at the last government census, made in 1891, 256 pure-blooded buffaloes in captivity, the last of the race.

A buffalo robe is now a scarce article and a well-preserved specimen brings a high price. Massive heads of old bull buffaloes are preserved in many museums and are valued at from $150 to $250.

Mark Twain once said that the most wonderful scene he had ever looked upon was an enormous herd of buffaloes in Colorado.

Mr. John D. Dunham, formerly United States land commissioner in Wyoming, and later connected with the Yellowstone Park commission, recently stated that there were between 120 and 140 buffaloes left in the United States last autumn, and the mortality among the surviving beasts was greater last winter than ever before during their captivity. Despite the severe penalty for killing the big animals in the National Park, a dozen or more buffaloes have been slain there every year. Last year a form of influenza destroyed some of them, and there are probably no more than fifty of the veterans of the plains left. Baker, in his "Wild Beasts and Their Ways," says: "The bison is a grand-looking creature, and in my opinion it is the most striking of all wild animals."

THE TURTLE DOVE

GRANVILLE OSBORNEIn and out the leafy shadeOf the peaceful glen and glade,Where the brook goes rippling by,Through the cowslip meadow nigh;When the soft and odorous breezeWhispers gently 'mongst the trees,Lovingly, I hear them woo —"Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o."Bows and bridles proudly he,Coyly shy and modest she;Hither, yon, in ceaseless quest,'Till they build a cozy nest;Full of watchful care is he,When there comes maternity;Never lover's song so true —"Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o."Now so proud he tabers low,To his loving mate below;Never lover so in love,As this billing, cooing dove.Back and forth he quickly fliesWith his generous supplies,Then he nods, "There, that will do —Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o."Beautiful, the little broodBlesses faithful motherhood,And the lessons they impart,Doves and nestlings, reach my heart.What the wisdom from the dove?That the best of life is "love."So I listen while they coo —"Coo-goo-roo-o-o, Coo-goo-roo-o-o."

THE SORROWFUL TREE

THERE is a tree in Paris to which the name "The Sorrowful Tree" is given. Perhaps because it blooms only in the evening.

When the first star appears in the heavens, the first bud of the Sorrowful Tree opens, and as the shades of night advance and the stars thickly stud the sky, the buds continue gradually opening until the whole tree looks like one immense white flower. On the approach of dawn, when the brilliancy of the stars gradually fades away in the light of day, the Sorrowful Tree closes its flowers, and ere the sun is fully risen not a single blossom is visible. A sheet of flower dust, as white as snow, covers the ground around the foot of the tree, which seems blighted and withered during the day, while, however, it is actively preparing for the next nocturnal festival. The fragrance of the blossom is like that of the evening primrose.

If the tree is cut down close to the roots a new plant shoots up and attains maturity in an incredibly short time.

In the vicinity of this singular tree there usually grows another, which is almost an exact counterpart of the Sorrowful Tree, but less beautiful, and, strange to say, it blooms only in the daytime.

MARKED WITH BLEEDING HEARTS

IN one of the cages at Lincoln Park are two pigeons or doves most peculiarly marked. They belong to the variety known as the "Bleeding Heart."

Their backs and wings are of a bluish slate color, while their breasts are white, save for a spot of vivid crimson in the center. This spot is precisely like the stain which would be produced by a wound. It is about an inch in length, and the color fades out at the edges softly in little streaks.

One can scarcely believe the little creatures are not victims of some cruel thrust, and the park employes say that lovesick people are wont to lean for hours on the railing opposite the cage, and, fixing their sad eyes on the birds, will moan in sympathy while they shed bitter tears.

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY

PROF. W. K. HIGLEY,Secretary, Chicago Academy of SciencesFair flower, that, lapt in lowly glade,Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade,Than whom the vernal galeNone fairer wakes, on bank or sprayOur England's lily, of the May,Our lily of the vale!Of thy twin-leaves the embowered screen,Which wraps thee in thy shroud of green;Thy Eden-breathing smell;Thy arch'd and purple-vested stem,Whence pendant many a pearly gem,Displays a milk-white bell.– Bishop Mant.

THE lily of the valley is one of the most delicate and beautiful of the lily family (Liliaceæ). With the exception of the orchid family probably no group of plants furnishes a larger variety of popular forms noted alike for their beauty and delicacy.

It has been truly said of the lily family that "the flowers of most are beautiful, of many brilliant, and of some truly splendid." This family contains about one hundred and fifty genera and over thirteen hundred species. They are world-wide in their distribution, excepting the Arctic zone, though they are more common in the temperate and subtropical regions.

Among the species sought by the lover of cultivated flowers none is more noteworthy than the tulip, a native of Persia. It is claimed that there are more than seven hundred forms of the tulip known to the florist – all variations of a single species.

The type of the family is the lily. The lily is the Persian personification of night, lil or lilleh being essentially the words used to designate evening. It is the Indo-Iranian analogue of the rose, which in countries speaking the romance languages, as well as in China, stands for a symbol of secrecy and was planted over graves as an emblem of immortality.

To this family also belong the day-lily, the tuberose, the hyacinth, the yucca, and the star-of-Bethlehem. Here also is classed the useful though much-abused onion, the flowers of which, though small, form a most graceful group at the top of the stem, especially in the wild species.

Asparagus is usually placed in this family and many species, such as squills and the varieties of aloes, are highly valued in medicine. In fact it may be said that the family "abounds in a bitter, stimulant principle and also in mucilage." It is of interest that some of the species of this family were prized by the Greeks and Romans for their medicinal value. The name for aloes in both languages refers to the bitter principle, and no name could be more appropriate, as the extract is intensely bitter.

The lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis, L.) is a native of the mountainous regions of Virginia and southward through Georgia. It is identical with the cultivated form which was brought from Europe.

The generic name Convallaria from two Latin words meaning "with" and "valley," having reference to its habit of growing on mountain sides. This sweet-scented plant has an underground stem which sends up a stalk that bears, chiefly on one side, numerous nodding white flowers. The oblong leaves, usually two in number, rise from the base of the flower-stalk, which is sheathed by their stems.

The pure white of the flowers as well as their symmetrical form has led writers to speak of them as the symbol of purity, and no flower, perhaps, is in greater demand for the decoration of the church and home.

MUSHROOMS ON BENCHES

RICHARD MAXWELL

TO the amateur grower mushrooms are ordinarily an uncertain quantity. This crop is as fickle and finicky as the proverbial old maid – although, for my part, I would far rather tackle the mushrooms.

The amateur mushroom grower, in the usual order of things, generally has "troubles of his own," troubles in which even the old expert shares at times, and often for a reason that is inexplicable, or for a cause that is not even apparent.

Some time ago I became interested in a rather novel scheme in 'room production: It is that of growing the 'rooms on top of the benches as one would his regular crops of lettuce, raddishes, etc., instead of under the benches and in cellars in especially prepared beds for that purpose. With this new method the 'rooms are grown at the same time as and among the usual crops. In view of the experience I feel justified in saying that a profitable crop of 'rooms may be grown with more certainty by this method than by the one ordinarily practiced. I am not aware of a single instance where a grower of ordinary intelligence has ever failed to secure a satisfactory crop in this way.

The soil used is much the same as the ordinary compost as generally put up by the average hothouse operator. In combination with the usual mixture of rotted sod and horse manure the addition of cow dung, at the ratio of about one to ten, may be advantageously made.

Should the cow dung be used it is best to have that which is at least one year old and in a fine, pulverized condition, being careful to have the cow dung well incorporated with the compost.

After the soil is placed in the benches the bed may be immediately spawned; no waiting for temperature to go up or down. This work is done just as in spawning an old-fashioned bed, except that the spawn should be buried somewhat deeper, to guard against the surface drying of the soil during a hard day's sun on the glass.

Since the operation of a hothouse is a hard business proposition to the general grower, involving the question of the greatest production on the space at hand, it is advisable to get a crop growing on the benches as quickly as possible after the bed is spawned.

If some crop that will rapidly cover the surface of the bed is not planted immediately after spawning it is advisable to furnish some sort of a mulch to protect the soil from the direct rays of the sun. It is all the better to provide such a mulch even with the planted crop, filling in the unprotected spaces. Partially decayed leaves, fine salt hay, or any light, fluffy material will serve the purpose. Providing this mulch does not become soggy or heavy there is no necessity for removing it during the bearing season of the mushroom.

Should the regular bench crop, lettuce, for instance, be depended upon to furnish shade, some more or less accurate calculation should be made on having such crop on the beds so that it will protect the mushrooms when they first make their appearance.

There is one other condition upon which success is contingent, and that is in the proper watering of the soil or secondary crops. Water should be applied lightly and frequently with a spray nozzle, the object being to maintain sufficient moisture in the soil to supply the needs of the surface crop without soaking or flooding the soil to such a degree that it becomes unduly heavy or soggy.

In cultivating the surface crop the operator should not stir the soil to a greater depth than two inches, that the spawn may not be disturbed.

When the crops are cleared from the benches in the spring it is well to allow a dense mat of weeds to grow up to protect the mushrooms from the sun, which, otherwise, would "burn" or brown them. —American Gardening.