Trails and Tramps in Alaska and Newfoundland. William S. Thomas

Tom at the Nest 275 Nest and Eggs of Blue-Gray Gnat-Catcher 276 Nest and Young of Goldfinch 277 Red-Spotted Purple Butterfly on Queen Anne’s Lace 278 Young Goldfinch 280 Nest of Red-Wing Blackbird 282 Young Red-Wing Blackbirds 283 Homes of the Cliff Swallows 285 Nest of the Song Sparrow 287 A Tragedy in Nature 288 Wood-Thrush 289 Nest and Eggs of Wood-Thrush 290 Up a Stump 291 Wood-Thrush’s Nest with Young 292 Nest and Eggs of American Redstart 294 Lady Redstart and her Home 295 Nest and Eggs of Blue-Winged Warbler 296 Young Woodpeckers Foraging 297 Nest and Eggs of the Thrasher 299 On Night Turn 300 Young Thrasher 301 A Delightful Place 306 Caught 307 Nest and Eggs of Ruffed Grouse 313 Not Certain 315 A Sure Point 317 Orchard Nest of Mourning Dove 318 Two Little Turtle-Doves 320

Trails and Tramps in Alaska and Newfoundland

       CHAPTER I

       CRUISING AND HUNTING IN SOUTHEASTERN ALASKA

       Table of Contents

      In the midst of the rustling and bustling on the pier, the creaking of the block and tackle, and the hoisting of the duffel, could be heard the loud, clear voice of the mate resounding in the evening twilight, “Heave to!” “That’s well,” and similar expressions, all preparatory to our departure for the far-away North, the land of glaciers, gold, and fish. In the crowd were many sorts and conditions of men—and not the least in evidence were the sturdy Norseman and the Scottish clansman,—some on pleasure bent, some in search of the mighty beasts of the forest, still others seeking their fortune in the vast gold-fields stretching on and on into the great unknown beyond the Arctic Circle.

      Among the ever-changing groups of humanity, my attention was attracted to one, the center of which was a young man about one and twenty. As the time drew near for our departure, around him gathered four or five young ladies, who to all appearances were in sore distress. An only brother, perhaps, was about to leave home and friends to seek his fortune in the Land of the Midnight Sun. The old father, grizzled and gray, stood by with dejected countenance and folded hands, the very picture of despair. Presently one of the girls—the boy’s sweetheart, as I afterwards learned,—unable longer to stand the strain, threw her arms about her lover and wept bitterly. What expressions of sadness upon the faces of those left behind as the lamplight casts its pallid rays over them! And now one staggers and falls into the arms of a friend. Then what a look of grief upon the face of the young man peering over the ship’s rail! Such is the pathos of life at every turn, could we but see it.

Ketchikan

      On board the steamer was the Hon. Walter L. Fisher, Secretary of the Interior, and his party, consisting of his son Walter, Alfred H. Brooks, of the Geological Surveys Committee, Governor W. E. Clark of Alaska, and reporters of various newspapers. Their mission was to investigate the condition and wants of the people of Alaska. The genial and pleasant old sea-dog, Captain Michael Jansen, was at the helm as the steamer wedged her way towards the north.

      For some two hundred miles we skirted the eastern shore of Vancouver Island, lined to the water’s edge with hemlock, spruce, and cedar, through which occasionally bluish-white streaks of water came tumbling down the mountain-side, each adding its own particular charm to the scenery. The English Government has erected along the coast many lighthouses for the protection of navigation, but after we passed through Dixon’s Entrance into Uncle Sam’s domain, very few of these were to be seen. Our Government seems to have given too little attention to this matter.

Myriads of Salmon

      The first stop on the way north was Ketchikan, a little village nestled snugly at the foothills, with its hospital, saloons, and all the usual adjuncts of a mining town. It has a population of some five hundred souls, whose principal occupation consists of fishing and mining. The most interesting thing to

       sightseers was a stroll up the boardwalk laid along a narrow winding stream that has its origin in the snow-capped mountains. Pitching, tossing, and foaming it hurried down the narrow gulch, seeking its level in the briny deep. It was alive with myriads of salmon, jumping and leaping in their mad rush to the spawning ground.

      In the dawn of the following morning the boat plowed its way through the green waters of the Strait toward Annette Island, a strip of land covered to the water’s edge with fir and cedar trees. The island is some six miles long, and at the extreme end, on a small, gently sloping plateau, is the little town of Metlakatla, which boasts a population of about a thousand persons.