Memoirs of Orange Jacobs Part 8

The view was grand but terrible--sublime but cruel. I never before was so impressed with the idea of annihilation, as I was in viewing that rolling, rushing, leaping and devouring volume or field of fire. In other days I had witnessed miles of fire, impelled by a fierce wind rushing over a prairie covered with tall and dry gra.s.s; but it only stirred within me the emotions of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity; there was nothing in it of terror or desolation, nothing of the wrecking of brilliant prospects, nothing of blighted hopes, nor of gloomy disappointment intensifying into despair. Ever and anon, as the rushing waves of the Seattle fire would roll over and envelope a drug or other store where powder or other explosives were kept, a volume of flame would shoot upward, with a deafening roar, towards the clouds, as though claiming the storm-king as its kinsman.

To the owners of lots in the burned district the fire was a blessing in disguise. To them there was a smiling face behind a seemingly frowning Providence. Even if they were the owners of the frail wooden structure that had enc.u.mbered their lots, the structures added nothing to the value; and the rapid and unprecedented increase in the value of their holdings amply compensated for any losses by the fire. The real loosers were the renters of shops, stores or saloons, where goods, tools, materials and machinery were destroyed by the intense heat, or went up wholly in flames.

But a few families lived in the zone of the fire. As to them, many kind hands soon removed their household goods beyond the danger-line.

The district swept by the fire was the local habitation of the fallen angels, hoboes, and gamblers, and of that large cla.s.s whose particular mode of subsistence is, and always has been, an unsolved mystery. The fallen angels and the upper cla.s.s of gamblers could take care of themselves. The hoboes and the cla.s.s of mysterious subsistence-men were afloat and hungry. Besides these, there were a large number of worthy and needy persons whom it is always a pleasure for the good to help; hence, a free-lunch house was opened in the Armory. There is always in a free-lunch a fascination that tends to increase the number of applicants therefor. This general law had no exception here. This led to a stringent examination of the right of all who appeared to partake of the generous bounty offered to the worthy and needy. This careful and necessary scrutiny soon led to a stoppage of the free-lunch business.

The worthy in many cases needlessly took offense, and the baser order of fellows were loud in their denunciation of the alleged selfishness of the generous purveyors. The people of Tacoma promptly and n.o.bly rushed to the a.s.sistance of Seattle, with provisions and personal services. The leading men of that city poured out their means lavishly and served as waiters at the tents erected for the feeding of the mult.i.tude.

Business soon revived with an enthusiastic rebound. The town was scorched, not killed. It had pa.s.sed through an ordeal of fire and was found to be not wanting in true metal. Work was furnished for all desiring it. The hoboes departed, and with them most of the mysterious-subsistence men. The burned district has been rebuilt with stately blocks of brick, or stone, or steel and cement, and its streets and sidewalks have been paved with brick, stone or asphalt. Not a smell of fire nor sight of wooden structure remains in this once ash-covered and desolate district.

Game, Animals and Hunting

With something of a reputation of a hunter, I have often been requested by Eastern, as well as local sportsmen, to give an enumeration and description of the game and wild animals in this State and in Oregon. I shall confine myself exclusively to this State. I have heretofore written a description and given an enumeration of the game and other wild animals in both States, but I have neither the ma.n.u.script, nor the newspaper which printed it. In again attempting an enumeration and description, I shall add some of my personal experiences, as well as those of others.

There were no quail native to Washington or to Oregon, except the southern portion thereof--save the mountain quail, a lonely solitary bird, of about twice the size of the bob-white. Its habitat is the dense copse or thicket. I have never seen them in flocks or groups, save when the mother was raising her large family of young birds. When no longer needing the mother's care, they pair off, and the young birds, or family separate.

They are very alert; they are great runners, but do not, unless hotly pursued, often take to wing. When they do, they are swift flyers and dart through the narrow openings in the tangled thicket with remarkable celerity. The male bird is proud and rather aristocratic in his bearing, and flourishes on his head a beautiful top-knot. I have bagged quite a number of them, but have nearly always shot them on the run and not on the wing. They are not numerous. Their flesh is delicate.

The California quail was brought into Washington at least fifty years or more ago. Three of us--James Montgomery, Judge Wingard and myself--in the fall of 1872 brought from Pennsylvania sixteen pairs of bob-whites, which were turned loose on Whidby Island. This was, so far as I know, the first and last importation of the bob-white to Washington. When turned loose on Whidby Island, they gave every indication of pleasure in being upon Mother Earth again. They ran about, jumped up in to the air, scratched the earth and wallowed in the dirt, and had to all appearances a play-spell, full of joy. They mixed readily with their California congeres; they have spread over Western Washington, and are quite numerous.

The pheasant, or ruffed grouse, are natives of Washington. They were very abundant in early days, but are fast disappearing. Being a bird easily bagged, and the flesh being of delicate flavor, they are fast vanishing before the advance of the settlements. The game laws may arrest their slaughter and prevent their complete annihilation; but I doubt it. The crab-apple, on which they princ.i.p.ally feed, abounded in all the valleys and in the moist and rich uplands. The ground where the crab-apple tree flourished has been cleared and a portion of their food supply has been cut off. The repeating shotgun is also helping to reduce their number; and unless the game-laws are rigorously enforced, these causes will soon sound their doom. Right here I am tempted to state that the crab-apple of this country is entirely different in form and size from the same fruit in the East. Here, it is not round but elongated, and is about as large as a good-sized bean.

The woodc.o.c.k is not an inhabitant of this State. The rail is rarely seen; but the jacksnipe is very plentiful in the late fall and up to mid-winter, when the great majority of them depart for warmer marshes.

They do not breed here. This bird, in its quick and upward bound and its swift zigzag flights, is a recognized test of the sportsman's skill.

Snipes are often bagged here, but not in the romantic way. Snipe on hot toast is a breakfast dish fit for a king.

I had a sporting friend--a doctor--with whom I often went snipe-shooting. This doctor was the best snipe-shot I have ever known.

His bag was always packed, while mine was comparatively lean. On one of these occasions our trip was to a tide-marsh and island south of Seattle. Early in the hunt we crossed a slough when the tide was out and found the birds very numerous on the new hunting-ground. The doctor brought them down right and left, while I was slowly increasing the fatness of my pouch. The doctor's success and consequent enthusiasm made him oblivious of the flight of time and of the movement of the tide. He had patients to visit, and when the sun was disappearing behind the western clouds and hills, he suddenly remembered his obligations to them. When on our return we came to the slough, we found it full and overflowing; the water was fully eight feet in depth and twenty feet or more in width. There was a good deal of floating debris in the slough, and the doctor, being a very agile man, leaped from log to log and safely made the pa.s.sage to the other sh.o.r.e. He said to me, "Come on, Judge; you can easily make it." I told him that I had never prided myself on my agility. "Well," he said, "I will make a bridge for you;"

and with the use of a pole he gathered the floating logs together, so that in appearance they looked like a safe bridge. But I said to him, "Doctor, I have all the confidence in the world in you as a physician; but you will excuse me,--I have no confidence whatever in you as a bridge-builder." He said with a little impatience, "O, quit your nonsense and come over; I will show you that the bridge is perfectly safe;" so saying, he leaped upon it and disappeared in the water. He soon re-appeared, however; and as he crawled up the slimy bank, the water spouting out of him in every direction, I said: "Doctor, you look very undignified." He answered, "You go to ----," politely called Hades.

I went down the slough, thinking he might be slightly out of temper, and found a safe crossing. I rowed him home--issuing an occasional mandate that he should take a certain medicine, of which I carried in my breast-pocket, a bottle for such occasions. The good doctor has gone to his long home. He sleeps in the bosom of his fathers and his G.o.d.

Of the duck family the following species are abundant here: the teal, the mallard, widgeon, pintail, canvasback, spoonbill, sawbill and woodduck. The three last-named species breed in this country, but migrate early in the fall. Formerly the mallard and teal bred here in large numbers on the tide flats and on the marshes along the creeks and rivers; but the advancement of the settler and the trapper, and the hunter with his repeating rifle, has driven them from their accustomed love-haunts, to the more secluded fens and marshes of the farther north.

Birds as well as humans are sensitive to disturbance in their love-affairs. The canvasback is a late and temporary visitant of our lakes, marshes, and tide flats, on his journey to the south. He remains for a time on that journey, and for a far shorter time on his return north. The impulse of love impels him to the secluded fens and marshes of the northland. The other species visit us in early winter, and are mostly gone by mid-winter. Their stay is very brief on their return in the spring.

In 1869, and prior to that date, brants and wild geese--or honkers--were very plentiful in the Puget Sound basin. The tide flats were their favorite feeding-ground. They have been compelled by the advance of the settlements to abandon them, and in lieu thereof, they have chosen the wheat-fields in Eastern Washington. There has been no seeming diminution in number of either brant or geese--simply a change in their feeding grounds.

The lonely cry of the loon, presaging storm or tempest, is heard from the forest-environed lakes and waters of the Sound.

The swan occasionally drops into our secluded lakes, and there alone, or with his mate, remains, if the environments suit him and food is plenty.

The pigeon is not numerous in Western nor, as I am informed, in Eastern Washington. He is slightly larger and wilder than his congere of the States. He is also of a deeper blue than his Eastern kinsman. He is only semi-gregarious. I have never seen him in large flocks or in great numbers together. He is not hunted much and is not valued as a choice game-bird.

The prairie-hen, or chicken, is not a native of and does not exist in Western Washington. This excellent game-bird is very numerous, or was in years agone, along the rivers and creeks in the valleys and on the rolling uplands of the great Columbia River basin. The incoming of the white man, with his trained dogs and with his breech-loading and repeating shotgun, has greatly diminished its numbers. Its unacquaintance with the white man and his terrible instruments of destruction made the bird an easy prey to the hunter. It was familiar to the Indian, and presumably gauging fairly his destructive power, constantly increased in number. The felon coyote was a far more dangerous enemy, being a robber of its nest and devourer of its young.

The bird is slightly smaller and of lighter color than his Eastern congere. These birds are much prized by the epicure for the rich delicacy of their flesh.

Corresponding in number but larger in size is the blue grouse, of the fir and cedar forests of Western Washington. I hardly know how to describe this bird--one of the finest of game-birds. His habitat in the winter or rainy season is the dark, gloomy, and thick forests of fir and cedar trees. There he dwells, possibly with his chosen mate, silently and noiselessly, and in a state of semi-hibernation, until the genial warmth of spring arouses his love, and he and his mate descend to the sunny lowlands or ridges for the rearing of their numerous family. After they have found a suitable or familiar location, the male selects some fir or cedar tree, or clump of fir or cedar trees, in the vicinage, and during the nesting season keeps up a continual love-call to notify his presence, or by his silence or flight to warn her of threatened danger.

When the bevy of beauties are fully hatched, the male descends from his eminence and spends his time in a.s.sisting care and watchfulness. Perched on some tall tree in their immediate vicinity, he by calls warns his mate of approaching danger, and by the direction of his flight indicates a place of safety. His mate and the youngsters soon follow, if able to fly; if not, they remain under the care of the mother, deftly hidden under the leaves or gra.s.s; after which, she often flies away by short flights with simulated disabled indications, to invite pursuit; and thus save her young. When the young are fully grown and strong of wing they all depart for the deep woods, and no more is seen or heard of them until the coming spring. Until the young are fully grown and the time of their departure has arrived, they are often found in large bevies or flocks; but when that time, late in the fall, has arrived, they silently depart for their winter home.

Killed in early spring, their flesh is so strongly tinctured with the flavor of the buds of the fir and cedar, their winter food, as to be unpalatable to most persons; but if killed in the fall, after a summer's diet of insects, seeds, grain and berries, their flesh is of a delicious flavor and greatly relished. This excellent game-bird, though decreasing in number from the general causes already stated, will, on account of its mode of existence, long escape the doom of annihilation.

The sand-hill crane rarely visits Western Washington. He is more frequently seen in the Eastern half of the State.

There remains but one other game-bird for notice, and that is the sage-hen of the sage-covered valleys and plains of Eastern Washington.

This bird does not exist west of the Cascade Mountains. It is anti-gregarious, save as in the consorting cares of a numerous family.

When the young arrive at full growth they pair off and separate, and the family relations are no longer recognized. If the males are less numerous than the females, polygamy is allowed. This is a law, however, that runs through many of the bird families. The c.o.c.k is a bird midway in size between the common domestic fowl and the turkey, and has long legs. He is a good runner. He rarely takes to the wing, and then only when hard pressed. His flight is low but swift, and he soon drops to the ground and speeds away on his legs to a place of safety. His food in winter consists of leaves and buds of the sagebrush; and when killed in the early spring his meat is too strongly impregnated with the rather acrid and unpalatable flavor of the sage, to be relished; but if bagged in the fall, after a summer's feeding on insects, seeds and grain, his flesh is savory and delicious.

I ought possibly, to make a brief statement, as to the Mongolian pheasant, and the Chinese rice quail--both of which, in limited numbers have been brought to Western Washington and turned loose here. Their increase has not been as great as antic.i.p.ated. In Oregon however, the increase of the Mongolian pheasant has been phenominal. It abounds every where in the great Willamette Valley. It seems to love an alternation of grain fields and contiguous chaparral cover. It is emphatically a seed feeder or graniverous bird. The female, with the nursing a.s.sistance of the male, usually raises two large broods per year. This accounts for its great and rapid increase under favorable conditions. In size this bird is slightly larger than the prairie chicken--has long legs--is a rapid runner--and when it takes to wing is a low and rapid flyer.

In Western Washington the limited number of grain fields and the absence of contiguous open ground--seems to be unfavorable to their rapid increase. Still in the cultivated valleys where these conditions exist, they are fact increasing in numbers despite the fact that they are an easy prey to the pot hunter.

Of the China rice quail, I know accurately, but little. There were for a time a few flocks of these birds in the vicinity of Seattle; but they have almost entirely disappeared. Whether such disappearance is attributable to the lack of food or to the persistent activity of the trap hunter I am not able to say. They preserve their family or flock relations until late in the spring, and hence the bevy may be swept out of existence by one successful fall of the trap. From my observation and limited study of their habits, I would say that they were chaparral, or tulie birds, with their choice habitat near human habitations. In size they are slightly smaller than the bob-white and their flesh is delicious.

Washington is emphatically a game country. The hunter may here realize his fondest hopes. The elk, mountain sheep or goat, deer, bear--black, brown and cinnamon--cougar, lynx, wild-cat, in their native and congenial habitat--I would not forget the wolf--can always be found. I propose to notice each cla.s.s briefly in its order.

First, then of the Elk. The mountains, with their barren ridges, their wooded slopes and sunlit coves of peavine, clover and nutritious gra.s.ses, as well as the dark forests of the foothills, are their congenial habitat. Rarely are they found in the lowlands, and then only when they are forced from their mountain-home by the deepening snow.

They have been styled the antlered monarchs of the forests, and this description is not inapt. If suddenly, within short range you startle from their secluded sylvan couch a band of forty, fifty or more of these antlered monarchs, with horns erect and every eye turned upon you as an enemy, you are deeply impressed with the majesty of their bearing.

Soon, in obedience to the danger-call of certain warning whistles, they speedily form into line under some veteran and well-recognized-leader, and speed away in single-file for miles, over a country impa.s.sable to the hunter, before a halt is called. The hunter who does not improve his chance effectively when the game is started from its couch has lost his opportunity, perhaps forever.

This n.o.ble game seems to love the Coast Range of mountains, and there exists in large herds and numbers. This is especially true of the Olympic Range. If this kingly game-animal is to be saved from utter annihilation, stringent laws must not only be enacted for his protection and preservation, but must also be vigorously enforced.

Heretofore, they have been slaughtered in large numbers for their hides, their horns and their teeth; while their carca.s.ses have been left where the life-struggle ended, to be devoured by the wolf, cougar, lynx or wild-cat.

While the mountains bordering on the Ocean seem to be preferred by this antlered monarch, yet he may be found in considerable numbers on the Cascade Range, especially on its timber-slope and in the dense forests on its foothills.

I have killed quite a number of these n.o.ble animals, but never, under any circ.u.mstances, where I could not make uses of the carca.s.s. I never had, or experienced any joy arising from the mere love of slaughter.

With gun in hand, with hunter's blood in your veins, and n.o.ble game within easy range, it requires a high degree of moral courage to refuse to manipulate the trigger of your trusty rifle. With carniverous, or dangerous animals it is different; slaughter becomes a virtue and not a vice.

The habitat of the mountain sheep, or goat is on and around the barren peaks and ranges of the higher formation of mountains. He is a wary animal, hard to approach and difficult of shot. He is always so located that a single bound puts him out of sight. If perchance, you could make an effective shot as he leaps from narrow bench, to narrow bench, down the rocky and steep side of the mountain, of what use would he be to you?

I have succeeded in killing but one. I have hunted the mountain districts where they are plentiful, and I had determined to kill one if possible. I hunted slowly, cautiously and stealthily. I frequently caught sight of them leaping down the mountain side. At last I aroused one from his couch and shot him on his first jump. He rolled down the mountain-side a short distance, but with some difficulty I dragged him to the top of the ridge. His meat was sweet, juicy and delicious, greatly relished by all the party. I had, had glory enough, and never specially hunted them again.

The black, brown and cinnamon bear are natives of Washington, and their numbers are in the order given. A bear is a semi-carniverous animal; he lives on fish, berries, succulent and saccharine roots, larva, honey, and is especially found of pork. He appeases his appet.i.te for fish by a nocturnal visitation of the rivers in which the salmon run, especially in the salmon season; he roams through the woods in the berry season and feeds on the toothsome food present in the forest. He unearths the yellow-jacket's scanty storehouse of honey, and consumes it and the larvae of the nest; he invades the farmer's domain and carries off some of his most promising porkers. The habitat of the brown, and cinnamon bear is the mountains and their foothills. They are not often seen unless you invade their solitary domain. I am not prepared to say what is their princ.i.p.al food, but suppose it to be the same as their kinsman the black bear.

The cougar is a native of this State and can be found where dense thickets and dark forests exist. He is a sly, skulking and treacherous animal, mostly nocturnal in his destructive visitations. I have often gone on a brief hunting-trip into the foothills of the mountains when they were slightly covered with snow, and a dense fog would settle down, obscuring all landmarks; but, in obedience to a safe rule, have retraced my steps to the foot of the hills on my return home. On several of these occasions I have found that a cougar had come upon my trail shortly after I had entered the hills, and had stealthily and continuously followed me up to within seven, or eight rods of the point of my return.

When I commenced my return, he, no doubt, leaped off into the covering brush, and, although sharply looked for by me, the dense fog and the thick brush hid him from my view.

The cougar is strictly a carniverous animal. His princ.i.p.al food is the deer; and it is said that he requires two a month for his subsistence.

That he is a good feeder is evident from the fact that he is always sleek and in excellent condition. He has a great love for the meat of the colt, and is consequently a terror to breeders in that line. He is not a hater of veal or pork, but does not prefer the latter.

He is generally considered a dangerous animal, and numerous are the stories told of fortunate escapes from his ferocity. Many of these stories have no foundation other than the surrounding darkness, the rustling of the leaves, or the twigs by the wind, and a lively imagination. While some of these narrations have an element of truth in them, they are generally greatly exaggerated. But let me be understood that when he is pressed by hunger and famished for want of food, I do consider the cougar a dangerous animal. Few, however, are the reliable accounts of his attacks on the lonely traveler in the woods, even under such conditions. Two instances have occurred since my residence in the Puget Sound Basin, which, from my acquaintance with the parties, I am willing to vouch for. A friend temporarily stopping at Mukilteo desired to go to Snohomish City, a distance on an air-line of about six miles; there were two routes--one, by steamer or canoe, of full twice that distance; the other by trail almost directly through a dense forest.

Being an expert woodsman, he chose the latter route. He was unarmed, and had not even a pocket knife. He spoke of his defenseless condition on the eve of his departure, but he feared no danger. He had proceeded about a mile-and-a-half on his journey when, in a dense fir and cedar forest, he met a cougar in the trail. The animal commenced stealthily to crawl towards him after the manner of the cat approaching his prey, purring as he came. My friend made a loud outcry, but this did not interrupt the cougar's slow and stealthy approach. It would have been more than useless to run--so he braced himself for the final spring.

When the animal came near he stood sideways to the brute; and when the cougar made a spring, he presented his left arm and the cougar seized it midway between the wrist and the elbow, and pushed him hard to throw him off his feet, but failed. Being a strong and muscular man, and his right arm being free, he struck the cougar on the nose, a hard blow with his clenched fist. The cougar, however, kept his hold. Summoning up all his energy, he struck the second blow on the nose of his enemy, and while it drew blood the cougar still held on. Satisfied of the insufficiency of such a mode of defense, and casting his eyes about him, he saw a portion of a cedar limb standing upright in the brush several feet from him--the limb being about two inches in diameter and three feet in length--and he suffered the cougar to push him in the direction of the limb. Having obtained it, he struck the cougar a powerful blow across his face, and, although the cougar winced some, the effect was for the animal to sink his teeth deeper into the imprisoned arm. My friend concentrated all of his energy and struck a second blow with his club. This blow was temporarily stunning and effective. The cougar released his hold on the bleeding arm and, dazed somewhat, disappeared in the surrounding forest. My friend retraced his steps to Mukilteo, now a suburb of the busy and prosperous City of Everett.

One more instance: A gentleman of the name of Cartwright was in former years an extensive logger on the Snohomish River in the Puget Sound basin. At the time of the occurrence I am about to relate, he had a large logging camp about three miles above Snohomish City. There had been a deep fall of snow, and he left his home and went to the logging-camp to see how the operation was affected by the unusual snow.

On his return late in the afternoon, he met a large cougar in the snow-beaten trail. The cougar slowly approached him in the manner described in the first instance. Mr. Cartwright was wholly unarmed; he tried to alarm the cougar by a wild outcry, but to no purpose, so far as the cougar was concerned. Some sixty rods away there was a bachelor's cabin. The bachelor had three fierce dogs and they promptly answered Mr.