Two Years in Oregon

Wheat-duck -?Black duck-?Wood-duck-?Snipe-?Flight-shooting-?Stewart's Slough-? Bitterns-?Eagles-?Hawks-?Horned owls-?Woodpec

ing-birds. Of these last the meadow-lark is almost the sole example; and his song, in its fragmentary notes and minor key, does not even rem

half sleep

ar thee still,

ike an angel i

bird is standing on the nearest log, but you look in vain; then it calls you from a hundred yards off, among the brush; again from the other side, and you try to drive him out of the left-

in front of the dog in the brushwood with the greatest speed, then rise and fly

good sport. They frequent the corners of the fields, nearest to the brush, and as the brood rise, ten or a dozen in number, and win

ssible to find, and next worthless for the table from their turpentine taste. After the grouse have left the harvest-fields and got back into the woods, the shot-gun sportsman must be quick indeed to shoot as the bird rises and makes for the nearest tall fir.

hed with yellow, and a spreading tail. He frequents the oak-grubs and scattering brush of the foot-hills, and is found all through the less dense por

nd low enough to tempt even the most sanguine shot. But in a week or so the main army arrives. Following up the general course of the Willamette River, they betake themselves to the sand- and gravel-bars of the river to spend the night, leaving in the

hind almost every fence. It is a kind of sport exactly suiting the average O

their conversation, which goes on continually. However confused the crowd that rises from the river, it is but a few seconds until order is taken. One flies to the head to guide the band, others take places on either side behind him; regular distance

way; that the quick, regular beats of the wings had nearly stopped, and the spread pinions showed they

irty yards to the right-for it is of no avail to shoot at them coming to you (the thick feathers turn the shot)-here go two barrels at the nearest birds. What a commotion! There is a perfect uproar of voices all declaiming at once, and away they scatter as hard as they can, resuming regul

e farmer welcomes the sportsman from selfish motives, as well

is mate (Anas boschus), in small bands; next follow the whistling and the common teal (Querquedula cyanoptera and Nettion Carolinensis); then the pintail (Dafila acuta) in great bands; following these, the wheat-duck, or gadwall (Chaulelasmus streperus), in multitudes; then, at a short interval, the redhead (Fuligula Athya

prings and also by ditches. The extent is about an acre; it is covered with rose-bushes and alder-shoots, and with rushes. In this are us

s feed. This comes in after the day's work is pretty nearly done. Mounting our ponies about four o'clock, we canter off to a big swamp about three miles off. Through this

grow quickly larger, and presently the rapid beat of wings is heard, as they whistle through the air overhead. The first flight round is high up in the sky, as they take a general view. Circling at the far end of the swamp, back they come, this time nearer to the ground. Just as you are debating if you dare risk the shot, whish! whish! comes the big band of teal close behind you, dashing by with a swoop worthy of the swiftest swallow, and defying all but a chance

e of mountains has turned into a solid mass of the darkest neutral tint; one star after ano

the way, soon brings us home to a late meal, where all our battles are fought over again, and the spoils, in their various beauty, are proudly shown. Among the

t-a bird somewhat larger than the European bitt

black eye. Last summer we lost chicken after chicken. I could not make out the robber, having taken precautions against rats, et id genus omne. One night, about ten o'clock, our English servant burst into the sitting-room with-"Sir, sir, bring your gun; here's a heagle come down on to the roof of the barn!" One of us ran out with a gun, and made out a big bird against the starlit sky. A shot, and down it cam

ow propping himself against the black trunk with his strong tail. The larger woodpecker is a beautiful bird, with a bright brown-and-gray speckled and barred chest, and a scarlet hea

oods as in other parts of the world

g he thought he would clean out his bird's cage. The open door was too strong a temptation. Out slipped the captive, and, after a short flight or two in the cabin, away he went into the outer air and perched on the upper rail of the pilot-house. After a moment he caught sight of

a bright metallic blue. Among them is sometimes seen the golden oriole (Icterus Bullockii),

of a pretty bird (Pipilo Oregonus), in plumage almost exactly resembling the European bull

nd driving rain without. In the honeysuckle, which covers the veranda and climbs over the face of the house, two sets of humming-birds (Selasphorus rufus) made their home. It was pretty to watch them as they poised themselves to suck the honey, and then da