TAXIDERMY AND ZOOLOGICAL COLLECTING.

PART I.—COLLECTING AND PRESERVING.

Eternal vigilance is the price of a collection.

[CHAPTER I.]

THE WORKER AND THE WORK TO BE DONE.

The need of thoroughly skilled collectors is increasing every hour; and right here let me say to the young naturalist athirst for travel and adventure, There is no other way in which you can so easily find a way to gratify your heart's desire as by becoming a skilful collector.

The most important vertebrate forms are being rapidly swept off the face of the earth by firearms, traps, and other engines of destruction. In five years' time—perhaps in three—there will not be a wild buffalo left in this country outside of protected limits. There are less than one hundred even now—and yet how very few of our museums have good specimens of this most interesting and conspicuous native species.

The rhytina, the Californian elephant seal, the great auk, and the Labrador duck have already been exterminated. For many years the West Indian seal was regarded as wholly extinct, but a small colony has lately been discovered by Mr. Henry L. Ward on a remote islet in the Gulf of Mexico. The walrus, the manatee, the moose, mountain goat, antelope, mountain sheep, the sea otter, the beaver, elk, and mule deer are all going fast, and by the time the museum-builders of the world awake to the necessity of securing good specimens of all these it may be too late to find them.

Even in South Africa, where big game once existed in countless thousands, nothing remains of the larger species save a few insignificant springboks, and no game worth mentioning can be found nearer than the Limpopo Valley, eight hundred miles north of the Cape!

Now is the time to collect. A little later it will cost a great deal more, and the collector will get a great deal less. Sportsmen, pot-hunters, and breech-loading firearms are increasing in all parts of the world much faster than the game to be shot, and it is my firm belief that the time will come when the majority of the vertebrate species now inhabiting the earth in a wild state will be either totally exterminated, or exist only under protection.

But do not launch out as a collector until you know how to collect. The observance of this principle would have saved the useless slaughter of tens of thousands of living creatures, and prevented the accumulation of tons upon tons of useless rubbish in the zoological museums of the world. It costs just as much to collect and care for scientific rubbish as it would to do the same by an equal number of scientific treasures. Between fool collectors on one hand, and inartistic taxidermists on the other, the great majority of the world's zoological museums have been filled with objects that are anything but attractive; and for this state of affairs the collectors are more to blame than the taxidermists.

Bad work in collecting is, in nine cases out of ten, due to one of two causes—ignorance or laziness. By some curious process of reasoning, many really intelligent men conclude that they can go into the field and collect successfully without having learned a single thing about methods, or asked a word of advice from a competent instructor. Many seem to think that the only thing required is main strength, and that even that may be exerted by proxy. Even now, men who have travelled and written books go to South America and dry all their skins in the sun—after having carefully removed all the leg bones—and their small skeletons they boil!

Some of the worst mammal skins I ever saw were made by a professor of natural history, who actually managed to do nearly everything as it should not have been done. And yet, collecting all kinds of animal specimens, in all climates, is perfectly simple to any one who has enough enterprise to inform himself of the most reliable methods, and put them in practice.

I will confess I feel very deeply on this point, for I have toiled, needlessly, unnumbered hours, and days too, in overcoming, as far as possible, the inexcusable blunders of collectors. I have seen thousands of dollars wasted in this way that could have been saved by good work in the field. It is easier to mount two good skins within five per cent of perfection than to mount one poor one not nearly so well. Let me advise the directors of all scientific museums, institutions of learning, and patrons of natural history generally, when appealed to by an enthusiastic collector for funds with which to go abroad and collect an untold amount of priceless specimens, in every case withhold your aid until the would-be collector demonstrates conclusively that he has learned how to collect. If he has not wit enough and grit enough to acquire ability, and then prove property, he is not fit to send anywhere, save back to the bosom of his family.

These are the qualities which are required to make a first-class collector: He must have a fair general knowledge of zoology, especially the vertebrates. He must be a good shot, a successful hunter, and capable of great physical endurance. Then he must be a neat and skilful operator with the knife, and conscientious in the details of his work, down to the smallest particulars, for without this quality his specimens will always be faulty and disappointing. In addition to all these requirements he must be a man of tireless energy, incapable of going to bed so long as there are birds to be skinned, and who, whenever a doubt arises in his mind in regard to the necessity of more work on a specimen will always give the specimen the benefit of the doubt.

I strongly advise every one who becomes a collector to learn to sketch from nature. No matter whether you have any artistic ability or not, if you are determined about it, you can learn to make pencil sketches of rare specimens in the field, and of native houses, costumes, weapons, etc., and remarkable natural objects of all kinds, which, even though crude and inartistic in finish, may be of permanent value to the scientific world. The camera and dry plate are of great value, but commend me to the pencil and sketch-book that "sticketh closer than a brother," and that never fail you on account of weather, weight, or accidents. Therefore I say, sketch; sketch poorly if you cannot sketch well, but above all, sketch.

The moment you make up your mind to go on a collecting trip, even if be only into the next county, read everything you can get hold of which will tell you aught about the natural history of the country you are to visit. Ask what has been written, search library catalogues for titles of books, then get all you can, and read all you get. Only the churl will refuse to lend you a book you cannot afford to buy. Read all about the physical geography, geology, climate, inhabitants, fauna and flora, for all these will have a direct bearing on your work. If you are going to unexplored territory, about which nothing has been written, then "read up" on the adjacent countries, for even that will be very useful information.

Guides and Companions.—No matter where you go, you will be obliged to have one or more companions, who know the country, to act as guides and general assistants. It may be that you can find a single person combining the necessary qualities of a guide and interpreter with those of a boatman, a teamster, or porter. The expense of such assistants must be counted upon from the very first. It may be stated as a general rule that in the tropics the services of natives can be had cheaply; while those of Europeans are generally dear in comparison with what they do.

Clothing and Food.—These subjects I propose to leave entirely alone. They make excellent "padding" for a work of this kind when there is a lack of really useful information with which to fill up; but every man feeds and clothes himself according to the dictates of his temperament, his purse, or his own sweet will. Whether his way is the best or the worst, he will still have food and clothes more or less suitable to his needs, and time spent in advising him what to wear and to eat is time wasted. These questions are generally controlled by the locality and circumstances.

Preservation of Health.—There are certain hygienic principles which apply all the world over, and since their observance becomes in the tropics a question of life and death, I will record them. Their observance has preserved my health intact in unwholesome jungles in a way that I consider nothing short of wonderful.

Never sleep on the ground in the wet portions of the tropics when possible to avoid it, but keep above the poisonous miasmatic vapors that lie close to the earth.

Boil water before drinking it, if it is thought to be bad, and avoid stagnant water at all times.

Drink no spirits whatever except when really sick or debilitated, nor wine, nor other alcoholic beverages. Avoid brandy, whiskey, and rum as you would the plague.

Eat no unripe fruit, and with moderation of even ripe fruits, excepting bananas, which are harmless and most excellent food.

Avoid eating large quantities of meat, but give the preference to rice, and farinaceous foods generally.

Wear light flannel shirts, and at all hazards keep the head and nape of the neck well shielded from the sun. Pith helmets are best.

After getting wet, do not sit down in the hot sun with your wet clothes on, but if you must remain in the sun, keep moving.

By means of rubber clothing, or "ponchos," keep from getting wet whenever you can.

On coming into camp with wet garments, do not sit down in them to rest, but change immediately to dry clothing and footgear. The strict observance of this rule will save many an attack of fever.

Medicines.—Every traveller or collector who goes beyond the ready reach of doctors (and for that matter also every family living in the country) should have a small box filled with certain medicines and simple appliances as a resort in all cases of emergency. Very often a deal of mischief can be prevented by having the proper remedy at hand and ready for immediate application. Who has not seen great suffering endured for the lack of a simple remedy costing only a few cents? No matter where I go in the field, or how much luggage I am impeded with, I always carry with me a small, square, japanned tin box (10 inches long, 7 inches wide, and 4 inches deep) which contains the following:

1 roll silk court-plaster (about 1 yard).1 bottle Collis Browne's chlorodyne.
6 curved surgeon's needles and silk thread.1/2 ounce quinine.
4 ounces spirits of turpentine.1 package Epsom salts.
4 ounces tincture of arnica.1 package senna leaves.
2 ounces syrup of ipecac.1 package carbonate of soda.
1 ounce paregoric.2-ounce bottle of Squibb's diarrhoea mixture.
1 ounce ammonia.1 box Beecham's pills.
2 ounces castor oil.1 small measuring-glass.
1 pint lime-water and linseed oil.1 piece of small rubber tube, a foot long.
1 pint best brandy.12 doses of tartar emetic.

The above makes a formidable showing, but the whole stock costs only about three dollars and fifty cents, and the box, with lock and key, about one dollar more. I have lately added to this outfit a most valuable and helpful little book, entitled "Till the Doctor Comes," by George H. Hope (G.P. Putnam's Sons, New York), which to any traveller or country dweller is worth twice its weight in gold. Fortunately, however, it costs only fifty cents, and no one need be without it.

While a traveller or hunter should never drink brandy or whiskey as a beverage, it is a most excellent thing to have in many cases of sickness or accident, when a powerful stimulant is necessary. Above all things, however, which go farthest toward preserving the life of the traveller against diseases and death by accident, and which every naturalist especially should take with him wherever he goes, are habits of strict temperance. In the tropics nothing is so deadly as the drinking habit, for it speedily paves the way to various kinds of disease which are always charged to the account of "the accursed climate." If a temperate man falls ill or meets with an accident, his system responds so readily to remedies and moderate stimulants that his chances for recovery are a hundred per cent better than those of the man whose constitution has been undermined by strong drink.

There are plenty of men who will say that in the tropics a little liquor is necessary, "a good thing," etc.; but let me tell you it is no such thing, and if necessary I could pile up a mountain of evidence to prove it. The records show most conclusively that it is the men who totally abstain from the use of spirits as a beverage who last longest, have the least sickness, and do the most and best work. As a general rule, an energetic brandy-drinker in the jungle is not worth his salt, and as a companion in a serious undertaking, is not even to be regarded as a possible candidate.

[CHAPTER II.]

OUTFITS, AND HINTS ON HUNTING.

In making up an outfit with which to work on specimens in the field, away from civilization perhaps, you must first decide definitely upon the line of work you intend to do, for upon this the extent and character of your outfit must depend. The requirements to be met are economy of space, weight, and labor, with no necessary article lacking. The mere item of keeping one's tools in order, and always accessible, is much more important than it would at first seem to be. There must be no confusion, and not a single article must get lost. Good tools, and plenty of them, in good working order, go a great way toward the production of faultless specimens, having the highest possible value.

I think I may say without boasting that on my third collecting trip abroad (to the East Indies) my outfit came as near perfection in size and arrangement as can ever be reached without far greater expense than that entailed. I was obliged to pack and unpack the whole of it at least fifty times, but its arrangement was so systematic and compact that the complete packing up never required more than fifteen minutes, and I could go to it in the dark and find any article desired, even to a needle and thread.

The whole arrangement was very simple. To start with, the entire outfit of firearms, ammunition, tools, hunting-gear, and a good stock of preservatives was contained in an iron-bound black walnut chest about the size of a carpenter's tool-chest.

To keep my loading implements and ammunition in order, I had an ammunition-box of walnut, 14-1/2 inches long, 12-1/2 wide, and 4-1/2 deep, outside measurements, divided inside into five compartments, which held and kept in order all the appendages belonging to my three guns, and enough ammunition to last a month for ordinary shooting.

Another small box, made of ash, one-quarter of an inch thick, and divided into four compartments, contained an assortment of knives, labels, and small tools (see list below), and was in every way multum in parvo. Both these boxes had their places in the chest, and my guns, each in its own box-case, were provided for in the same receptacle. I have had made for collectors going out from the National Museum nearly a dozen tool-boxes in exact duplication of the original mentioned above, and I can confidently recommend both it and the ammunition-box as serving their purposes most satisfactorily.

Since my outfit for the East Indies proved very satisfactory, and with one or two additions is precisely what I should take were I to go again on a similar expedition, I give below a full list of its contents. The additions I should make would be a Winchester 7-shot repeating rifle, calibre 45-75, with the necessary ammunition, a double-barrelled breech-loading gun, No. 12, and possibly a wooden tank 2 feet × 2 feet × 2 feet, with a screw top, for the preservation of mammal skins in a salt and alum bath. This last addition is rendered necessary by the fact that I have adopted a different method of preserving skins from that I had followed up to that time. Instead of drying all skins as I did then, I now preserve the majority of them in a wet state, and keep them so, except such as are desired as skins for study, and not for mounting. The apparatus necessary for collecting insects will be described in the section devoted to work of that class.

Outfit for General Collecting,

Vertebrates and Invertebrates, both Large and Small, Dry and in Spirits, and on a Large Scale.

1 Agassiz tank (copper), in wooden box, for alcoholics.
1 chest of black walnut, iron-bound, to contain all the articles enumerated below:
1 Maynard rifle, two barrels, calibre 40,40 pounds shot, assorted sizes.
and 45-85.10 pounds Maynard bullets.
1 double-barrelled breech-loading smooth-bore 1,000 Berdan primers.
gun, No. 10, in case ($30).12 pounds Orange ducking powder.
1 Maynard shot-gun, No. 16.30 pounds arsenical soap.
1 Smith & Wesson revolver, cal. 32.15 pounds dry arsenic.
1 cartridge-belt and cartridge-bag.1 dozen large skinning-knives.
1 dozen small skinning-knives.2 pairs scissors.
6 scalpels.1 brain hook.
2 claw hatchets.1 pair long forceps.
1 saw.1 pair short forceps.
1 large skin scraper.1 pair cutting-pliers.
1 geological hammer.1 pair flat pliers.
1 bull's-eye lantern.2 sets skeleton-scrapers.
1 A No. 1 field-glass.1 small skin scraper.
1 compass.1 flat file.
2 brushes for arsenical soap.2 three-cornered files.
1 blow-pipe and set of egg-drills.1 cold chisel.
1 hydrometer and test-glass.2 awls.
1 thermometer.1 4-inch saw (for turtles).
2 pairs hunting-shoes.1 tape measure.
2 rubber blankets.1 2-foot rule.
1 double woollen blanket.1 ivory thimble.
1 Ashanti hammock.1 oil-stone.
3,000 labels, three sizes.1 spool thread.
1 tool-box, size 7 × 13 × 3 inches, to contain the following: 2 dozen labels.
4 skinning-knives.3 papers glover's needles.

With this outfit I collected, in two years, more than $15,000 worth of salable skins, rough skeletons and skulls of mammals, many of which were very large; birds, reptiles, and fishes, especially the large and important species; also fishes and fish skins in alcohol and brine; crustaceans, shells, star-fishes, corals, and a few insects. In not a single case did I ever fail to collect a desired specimen through lack of implements and preservatives with which to care for it, and only three or four specimens spoiled on my hands in course of preservation. One of these was an orang skin, the last one I took, which spoiled because I had to pack it up and travel with it without giving it even one day's drying; and the others were skins which spoiled while I was on my back with jungle fever.

The outfit listed above is of such a nature that for a trip across Africa, South America, or even a much shorter distance on foot or horseback, away from rivers and wagon-roads, it would be difficult to take the whole of it. But then, on some expeditions, for example, such as are made through Darkest Africa, the travellers are generally glad to get through with their lives, to say nothing of more cumbersome luggage, and very little collecting is done. In nine cases out of ten, however, it is advisable to take along a good outfit, even though there be three or four boxes of it, for, except in such journeys as those mentioned above, there will always be a way to get it along. It will cost a few dollars for freight, and some trouble in management; but if you are a good collector, and mean business, you will not mind that in the least. Where there's a will there's locomotion; and to collect well, or even at all, one must have something to collect with. It is an expensive and exceedingly laborious business at best, so don't go expecting to have your "baggage checked through to destination, free of charge."

But there are a great many of my readers who, while they may never want to go off into a howling wilderness, might greatly enjoy collecting on such trips as they do take. Then, again, there are sportsmen and travellers who will willingly carry into good game districts a book of instructions, and enough tools to enable them successfully to remove and preserve the skins of valuable trophies of the chase, and other specimens which should be kept on account of their scientific value or their beauty. To meet the requirements of both the amateur and the sportsman I recommend:

The Traveller's Handy Outfit,

For a Collector of Mammals, Heads, Trophies, etc., and also Birds.

Firearms, as you please.

A tool-box of 1/4 inch ash, size 7 × 13 × 3 inches, containing the following:

2 large skinning-knives (see Fig. 1).1 tape measure.
2 cartilage knives (see Fig. 1).1 brain hook.
1 pair scissors.1 pair 9-inch forceps.
1 small oil-stone.1 pair short forceps.
1 spool thread.And if eggs are to be collected, then must
1 package needles.be added:
1 package labels.1 blow-pipe.
1 2-foot rule.1 set of egg-drills.

With the addition of 10 large skinning knives, this was the identical outfit I took with me on two collecting trips to Montana, during which we skinned and skeletonized 24 buffaloes, about 20 antelope, 10 deer, 9 coyotes, and a goodly number of birds and small mammals.

The points in favor of this outfit are its cheapness, compactness, portability, and great general utility. It can be carried in a knapsack behind a saddle on an overland journey, and to an explorer it is useful in a hundred ways besides those for which it is specially intended.

Firearms.—The gun question is a good deal like the wife question—every man prefers to choose for himself, and advice is chiefly superfluous. Nevertheless, to those who have as yet no preferences, I will briefly state mine, and the reasons for them.

If I could have but one weapon, I should choose the Maynard rifle, calibre 40, with extra long cartridge, and a No. 12 shot-barrel fitting to the same stock, and interchangeable in less than fifteen seconds of time. The rifle is light and handy; it hits hard, and is as true as steel ever gets to be. It will hit every time precisely where you hold it. Its construction is so simple it seldom breaks or gets out of order, the brass shells never wear out, and when loaded are about as impervious to water as marine torpedoes. Should you go under water—rifle, cartridges, and all—you have only to "bob up serenely," and go on firing as if nothing had happened.

By the addition of a shot-barrel, at a very slight expense, you have, in reality, two good breech-loading weapons that will serve you well for general purposes.

For ordinary large game I also prefer the Maynard rifle, but of a heavier calibre than the above. Calibre 45 is the best size, taking the U.M.C. Co.'s Bullard cartridges loaded with 85 grains of powder and 295 grains of lead. These with the Maynard make a beautiful combination. It carries point-blank up to 170 yards, if not even 200; the ball has great accuracy and penetration, with a very low trajectory, and very little recoil. A heavier bullet means a hearty kick and loss of accuracy, and one of 500 grains of lead means occasional blood at your end of the gun, and a black and blue shoulder.

For such great beasts as the elephant, rhinoceros, and hippopotamus, the choice must lie between a double 8-bore rifle, and the No. 8 smooth-bore. For my part, I would rather hunt my elephants with such a gun as I used on them in India, a No. 8 smooth-bore, double-barrelled, which, though weighing less than 10 pounds, never kicked seriously, even with enough powder (6 drachms) to send a zinc bullet through an elephant's skull and brain, and out on the other side. With such a weapon there will be no need to run after an animal, nor run away from it either, after you get one fair shot at it.[1]

For hunting large birds and small mammals a No. 10 shot-gun is the best; but if you are specially interested in birds and care little for mammals, a No. 12 breech-loader with top-snap action will be preferable. For my purposes, however, my No. 10 double Werner and No. 16 Maynard always worked beautifully together, and I think these two sizes afford the best combination a collector can find. Being very strongly built, I often loaded my No. 10 with a single ball, and bagged many a fine Indian bison in that way.

I always used heavy brass shells with all my shot-guns, for the following reason: I could not spare room to carry paper shells, the rains I encountered would have spoiled too many of them, and away from home they were too expensive a luxury for me to afford. The brass shells are expensive to start with, but they last forever, or until they are lost.

Hints on Hunting.—The duty of a naturalist to his specimen begins when he levels his gun at it in the field.

Do not shoot a specimen to pieces, or mutilate it beyond recognition by its own mother.

Study the moral principles of your guns, find out exactly what they will do with what you put into them, and then don't shoot your specimens too much. What is a tiger worth with the top of his head blown off, or a deer with a great hole torn in his side by an explosive bullet?

Three vital principles to be observed in hunting specimens are the following: See everything ahead, and allow nothing to see you. Shoot to kill, but shoot so as to get your specimen with the least possible mutilation. A squirrel shot with a rifle is usually unfit for a specimen, and a bird with its legs shot to pieces, mandibles shot off, and half its tail feathers torn to pieces is about the same as no bird at all, unless it happens to be a rare one. In using a rifle, get as close to your game as you can (unless it be a tiger or bear!), so as to be sure of getting it. With the shot-gun, get as far away as you dare, so as to get no more shot into your bird than is necessary to kill it.

It is a disgrace for a collector to shoot a bird to pieces and be obliged to throw it away.

I append a showing of what I use in collecting, according to circumstances. It is hardly likely that any two collectors in the world agree on these points, therefore I do not expect that these tables will suit the old hands. I put them forth as mere suggestions to beginners.

Recommendations in Regard to Hunting with the Rifle.

Animals to kill.Weapon to use. Charge of Weight of Best
powder. bullet. distance.
ElephantSmooth-bore, 6 drs. Spherical, 30 yds.
No. 8. pure zinc.
Tiger, bear, elk, deer, sheep, seals,
large crocodiles Maynard, 45. 85 grs. 295 grs. 75 "
Apes, monkeys, small ruminants,
and small carnivora Maynard, 40. 60 " 200 " 50 "

Recommendations in Regard to Hunting with the Shot-gun.

Animals to kill. Weapon to use. Charge of Charge of shot.
powder.
Deer No. 10. 6 drs. 20, No. 8 buckshot.
Fox " 10. 5 " 1-1/2 oz., No. 00.
Woodchuck " 10. 3 " 1-1/4 " " 2.
Squirrel " 12. 3 " 1-1/2 " " 6.
Chipmunk " 16. 2 " 1 " " 10.
Eagle Duck
Powder.
Eagle, crane, vulture " 10 or 12. 5 drs. 1-1/2 " Double 00.
Turkey buzzard " 10 or 12. 4 " 1-1/4 " No. 4.
Crow " 12. 3 " 1-1/4 " " 6.
Quail " 12. 3 " 1-1/2 " " 8.
Robin " 12. 2-1/2 drs. 1 " " 10.
Warbler " 16. 2-1/2 " 1 " " 12.
Humming-bird " 16, or 2 " 1 oz. dust shot.
Auxiliary, 22.[2]

Of course it would be easy to recommend a large assortment of different weapons for different purposes, but when it comes to providing an outfit of firearms, I must say I never cared to take care of more than three or four weapons, and I doubt if the average amateur will feel disposed to maintain a small arsenal. In preparing the above tables I have limited the weapons to those I have actually used. For my use, the following constitutes a model collector's outfit of firearms for all purposes in all countries. It is cheap, but first class, not cumbersome, easily cared for in all climates, and equal to every occasion that can arise:

1 No. 8 double breech-loading smooth-bore, and

1 Auxiliary barrel, No. 22, for very small birds (price, $12).

1 Calibre 45-85 Maynard rifle, 1 calibre 40-60 rifle-barrel, and 1 No. 16 shot-barrel, all to fit interchangeably on the same stock. A smaller rifle-barrel might also be added, but it is not really necessary.

1 Calibre 45-75 7-shot Winchester.

1 No. 12 breech-loading shot-gun.

The Winchester is useful for rapid firing at short range, but the Maynard is the weapon to depend upon for perfect accuracy at all ranges.

Knives.—For general use the best knife for the collector or taxidermist is a steel-handled cartilage-knife, as shown in Fig. 1, B. It costs seventy-five cents. There are two kinds of cartilage-knives, but the one shown has the best-shaped blade.

[a]Fig. 1.]—The Best Knives for a Collector or Taxidermist (about two-thirds actual size). A, Russell's "killing-knife;" B, Cartilage-knife.

For heavier work the best knife I have ever used or seen is the so-called "killing-knife," No. 01512, as shown in Fig. 1, A, made by John Russell, Green River Works, Turner's Falls, Mass., the retail price of which is only seventy-five cents. Had I designed it myself, especially for collectors' use, I could not have done better. The shape of the blade, the thickness of it, and the shape of the handle are all perfect. If you cannot procure one of these knives, then buy a good butcher-knife, and grind the blade down to this shape. A knife with a straight edge is not fit to use, for many reasons.

Always keep a good coarse (water) whetstone for large knives, and a Wichita oil-stone and oil for your finer knives, and the final touches to your large ones.

Seasons for Collecting.—Mammals.—In the temperate zone never take fur-bearing or game animals before September 1st, or later than February 1st, if possible to avoid it. On most of these mammals the pelage is the finest during November and December. It is then at its maximum length, very clean and well dressed, and also at its brightest color. The ruminants begin to shed in May (the American bison as early as March), and by July the new hair upon them is only about half an inch long, but very fine and sleek. At that time it does not have its natural color. In our country, September, October, and November are the months par excellence for the taking of mammals, especially the large species, for after December 1st the storms and snows of winter render their haunts untenable for the hunter, unless he builds a cabin in the woods and makes a winter of it. The haunts of the mountain sheep and goat must be abandoned by December 1st, at the latest, on account of the snow. The best time to take families of young mammals is from May to August. If taken earlier they are too young, and later they have passed their most interesting age. The smaller the species are, the quicker the young mature, and in collecting all such, the naturalist must be on the keen lookout to take them at the precise time they reach the most interesting size and age.

Birds.—In the temperate zone the best months for bird collecting are March, April, May, June, September, October, and November; but since the study of migration depends upon collections and observations made all the year round, there is really no time to begin collecting, and no time to cease. At the same time the amateur will soon discover that, aside from the birds that are found only in their particular season, the greatest number of species to be obtained in the Northern United States come in the months mentioned; and, of course, in the cold half of the year they are most plentiful in the South, whither they go to escape the cold weather. In the northern regions bird-collecting naturally begins with the spring migration from the South, and is most active from that time up to the end of June. During July and August the old birds are moulting, and the young ones have immature plumage and stub tails.

A rule which can be safely applied, to all tropical climates is that the dry season is best for either collecting, sport, or travel. Never collect in the rainy season if you can help it. Animal life is doubly hard to find, specimens are desperately difficult to preserve, and field work is very trying on the patience and the constitution.

In the Arctic regions, hunting and collecting must be done in midsummer, or not at all. While it is true that in the torrid and temperate zones there is a certain amount of work to be done all the year round, there is always a particular season which may be regarded as the harvest-time.

Collecting by Amateurs.—There is one kind of collecting which should be discouraged in every possible way, and that is the postage-stamp style of collecting by boys who have no real love for natural history. Boys in their teens often make collections of bird-skins, eggs, and nests in precisely the same spirit that prompts them to gather coins, postage stamps, and autographs—"to see who can get the most kinds." This vicious propensity is apt to involve a very good boy in a useless and inexcusable warfare against the feathered tribes. Many a time I have been saddened by the sight of drawer upon drawer, full to overflowing, of poorly made skins of our most beautiful songbirds,—hundreds of them in a single collection, perhaps not worth ten cents apiece in any market,—each skin merely recording the important fact that it was shot on a certain day in a certain place. There is a way to prove whether a juvenile collector has really a love for the study of birds. Let the one who furnishes the sinews of war—parent, guardian, or elder brother—demand that he shall mount every good specimen he kills, and be able to tell all about its habits, food, economic value, etc. This will in any event result in great good. If the collector is not really absorbed in the study of bird-life, the labor such a course involves will soon deter him from indiscriminate slaughter; and even if he is destined to become a distinguished member of the A.O.U., it will be all the better for him to be taught to place a high value on every bird, living or dead.

Shooting Birds as a Pastime.—I cannot, without being profane, find language strong enough to adequately express my abhorrence of the damnable practice some parents have of providing thoughtless boys with shot-guns and ammunition for the slaughter of birds and small mammals, just for the fun (!) of the thing, or to become proficient in the use of the gun. For the killing of birds for food, or to mount for the cabinet, or to study intelligently, there is some excuse; but for the slaughter of birds as a boyish pastime there is no excuse whatever, and either boys or parents who have such a disregard for life as to make it possible should be fined as heavily as can be done under the law. Firearms and their users are multiplying at such a frightful rate that it seems highly probable the time will come when there will be no more wild birds or quadrupeds left upon the face of the earth.

It is a good thing for a boy to be taught to shoot, and skill in the use of a rifle may fairly be regarded as an accomplishment; but the taking of life is not in the least necessary to its acquirement. If a boy wants to shoot for the sake of becoming an expert with the gun, give him a rifle and a target, or a shot-gun and clay pigeons, that he may start in the right direction. Do this, and the chances are ten to one that he gets ten times the sport and twenty times the benefit out of rivalry at the target that he would out of roaming over the country and killing every bird he can discover. Even in the immediate vicinity of Washington a song-bird can hardly raise a note without attracting a boy with a gun.

Poisoning and Trapping Mammals.—Inasmuch as there are in print a number of good books that treat this subject exclusively, I may be spared the labor of taking it up here. The reader must be assured, however, that traps and strychnine are very valuable allies in collecting, and he who ignores them will lose much. Above all things, carry with you plenty of strychnine, use it industriously, and it will bring you many a fine carnivore you would not get otherwise. Poison a skinned carcass by cutting gashes an inch deep in the rump and other fleshy portions, and putting strychnine in them. Also cut up chunks of meat in little cubes, put poison in the centre of each, and scatter them around for the benefit of the wily wolf and fox, the fat and festive badger, the wary golden eagle and raven, and other meat-eaters in general. On our hunt for buffaloes in Montana, Mr. W. Harvey Brown was our Borgia, and his industry and strychnine laid low some of the finest small specimens we obtained, including specimens of all the species mentioned above. After putting out poison, search the vicinity thoroughly for two or three days, and the chances are your efforts will not be in vain.

Dr. C. Hart Merriam and his collectors have reduced the trapping of the very small mammalia to an exact science, the like of which I venture to say has never been seen before. They use three kinds of traps—the Lamb steel-trap, No. 0; the Cyclone, and the Climax. These are all small, all may be used with bait, or quickly modified to serve as runway traps, for arvicolas and the like. Boiled oatmeal mixed with corn meal is the standard bait used for small rodents. For shrews, small carnivora, and omnivorous rodents, meat baits are used, such as birds' heads, intestines, pieces of skin, and meat—in fact anything fleshy.

[CHAPTER III.]

HOW TO SELECT AND STUDY FRESH SPECIMENS.

Selection of Specimens.—This is the golden rule in collecting: Preserve the first specimen you collect of every species you encounter, lest you never get another. When you have obtained too many of a kind, it is an easy matter to throw some away. At all hazards, try to obtain one really fine adult male and female of each species, to serve as standards of comparison in your subsequent studies. Remember that immature, undersized specimens are not typical representatives of a species, nor do they add glory to a collection. At the same time, quite young specimens, say one-fifth to one-tenth adult size, are always very interesting, and should be collected and preserved whenever possible. Collect your mammals and birds during the season when their pelage and plumage are at their finest. Especially should every specimen that you propose to mount be strictly first-class. Life is short and species many, and when you do go through with the task of mounting a specimen, it should be so fine in every way that you will never need to replace it for the reason that it is too poor to keep. Of rare species, the rule is to preserve every specimen taken, and, I may add, make as many different kinds of preparations of a rare species as you know how to prepare. For example, of the guacharo bird, or cave-bird of Trinidad (Steatornis caripensis), my friend Jackson and I prepared skins, skeletons, and alcoholic specimens, and took a full assortment of nests and eggs.

Measurements.—It is of great importance to acquire a fixed habit of carefully measuring every specimen you prepare, unless you are already in possession of an abundance of measured specimens of the same kind. After getting into the habit of measuring, it takes only a very few minutes to do the work, and the value of the information thus obtained is sure to be equal to ten times its cost.

Record the measurements on the label bearing the name of the object, and by all means adopt for each class of objects a certain system of measurements, which should always be followed. Under their respective headings, in the following chapters on collecting, I will give directions for measuring small mammals, large mammals, and birds, according to the system I think most useful.

Casts.—The great value of casts as working models and records cannot be overestimated nor ignored without loss of accuracy. They are especially valuable in preserving records of the forms of mammals; and the methods of making them—all very simple and easy—will be found fully described and illustrated in the chapters devoted to "Making Casts" (Part III.).

Photographs.—To the taxidermist and collector, photographs of dead animals are of very little value unless it be a large picture of the head of a large specimen, such as a moose. Photographs of live animals taken "broadside on," as the sailors say, are extremely valuable aids in mounting; but these you get only in the zoological gardens. I never took a camera into the field with me, and have always been glad of it, for it would not have repaid the trouble it would have involved. No man who has his hands full of shooting, preserving, and packing specimens can afford to waste time on a camera with which to take dead animals, because it is apt to fail to emphasize the very points you most wish to have recorded. I have had enough dead animals photographed to feel sure on this point.

On the other hand, the taxidermist who permits himself to be wholly unable to make simple sketches, with a fair degree of accuracy, from animals in the flesh, is seriously handicapped. It is only the heaven-born genius—as yet unborn, I believe—who can study animals and remember everything he sees. Written descriptions help out a great deal, especially when particular emphasis is called for, and in the absence of sketches, photographs are the next best thing. It is an excellent thing to be able to photograph animals, both living and dead; but the trouble is, one cannot always get the game and the camera together. A note-book and a pencil one can always carry, and even when you have the camera, the former often proves the better ally of the two.

Outlines.—For years it has been my constant practice to make outlines of dead animals, on large sheets of paper, before skinning them. My plan is to lay the specimen on its side on a sheet of heavy manila paper, place the legs and feet in an easy walking attitude, pin or nail them fast in place, then mark entirely around the animal with a long lead pencil. To get an exact diagram of a rather large mammal, I invented a wooden square, carrying a pencil point at its outer angle, with which it was easy to get the exact outline of a large animal, or large skull. In mounting a specimen, such an outline is of great value as a check on errors in proportion that might easily be made in putting it together.

Field Notes.—There are hundreds of specimens on which you will not need to take notes, unless you have the time to study their habits, find out what they eat, how they live, etc. But of rare and interesting objects you will want to record all the information you can gather regarding their life history. To determine what they feed upon, examine the contents of their stomachs. If there is no time to do that in the field, then preserve the stomachs in alcohol, carefully labelled, and examine the contents at your leisure. Learn how to observe, and then put down in black and white, between substantial leather covers, all that you do observe, and all that is told to you by the natives about species with which they are familiar. Do not forget to ascertain and record the native names of your specimens, for after you get home you will be certain to wish to know them. One thing is certain; when you come to write about your collection, you will wish you had taken more notes in the field.

While a specimen is fresh, take careful notes as to the color of all the soft parts that will lose their color when the skin is dry. Learn to describe colors accurately, and, if possible (though this seems like asking a great deal!), try to describe colors so that afterward, when your notes get cold, you yourself will know what they mean!

PLATE II.—[a]Two Pages from an old Field Note-book.—A Taxidermist's Notes.]

In describing the colors of soft parts, I would advise you to purchase the following Windsor & Newton tube colors (oil) and use them as standards for reference: Ivory black, Vandyke brown, burnt umber, burnt sienna, raw sienna, Naples yellow, Indian yellow, chrome yellow, Indian red, vermilion, purple lake, cobalt blue, and indigo.

Labelling.—For scientific purposes, a specimen without a label is not quite so good as no specimen. It takes up room, and is useless. The most important record to make on a label is the name of the locality in which it was taken. Next in importance is the date of its capture. You may leave off everything else if you really must, for as to its name the specimen can speak for itself. But it is by all means desirable that the label should give the name, locality, date, sex, and some measurements. I need not mention "name of the collector," for the collector can always be trusted to look out for that without advice from anybody, even under the most discouraging circumstances.

[CHAPTER IV.]

TREATMENT OF THE SKINS OF SMALL MAMMALS.

Many hundred beautiful and curious quadrupeds are shot every year and allowed to perish utterly for lack of the little knowledge and skill which would enable the hunter to remove and preserve their skins. The operation is simple and easy, the requirement in tools and materials quite insignificant, and the operator has only to exercise a little patient industry to achieve good results. There are few circumstances under which a determined individual finds himself thwarted in his desire to remove and preserve the skin of a dead animal. In nineteen cases out of twenty the result hinges on his own disposition. If he is lazy, a thousand things can hinder his purpose; if he is determined, nothing can. A sharp pocket-knife, a little powdered alum and arsenic in equal parts, or failing that, common salt alone, will do the business in lieu of a better outfit, for any small mammal that ever lived.

I begin with small mammals, because it is squirrels, rabbits, cats, woodchucks, weasels, opossums, raccoons, and foxes that the beginner will fall in with long before he is called upon to wrestle with such subjects as deer, bear, elk, or buffalo. These general directions apply to the skinning of all terrestrial quadrupeds up to the size of a setter dog, and the preservation of their skins in a mountable condition.

Measurements.—The following are the most valuable measurements to take of a small mammal.

1. Length, from end of nose to root of tail. This is to be taken with the head stretched out straight as far as it will go. Measure from the tip end of the nose to the point where the tail joins the body. In my judgment it is always best in determining this latter point to take the angle made by the tail (underneath) and the rump when the tail hangs or is bent down at an angle of forty-five degrees to the spinal column. This point is always fixed and constant, and can be quickly and accurately determined by bending the tail down and sticking a pin or awl at the angle. To measure an animal like a monkey on the top of the tail is to attempt the location of a point which can rarely be determined twice alike. For this reason I have always taken this measurement in both large and small mammals underneath the tail.

2. Length of tail, from root to end of vertebræ.

3. Length of hind foot. Bend the heel at a right angle, and measure from the outer extremity of the angle to the tip end of the longest toe, including the nail.

4. Height at shoulders, if the animal be not too small. To take this, lay the animal on its right side, then, as nearly as you can, place the right leg and foot in the position they would assume if the animal were standing erect (the sole of the foot must be parallel to the axis of the body), and measure in a straight line from the bottom of the heel to the top of the shoulders. Record, also,

5. The color of the eyes, and the other soft parts.

6. Weight, in certain cases.

Do not forget what has been said in Chapter III. about outlines and sketches. On one corner of the outline-sheet we record the name of the specimen, locality, date, sex, measurements, color of eyes, lips, feet, etc. It takes but a few moments' time, and the result is a complete and accurate record of what the animal was in the flesh. These sheets are numbered and filed away, the skin is numbered and put in the bath, and even though it be not until five years later that we are ready to mount it, we can tell as accurately what the animal was like as if it had been received only the previous day. If the specimen is a baboon, for example, with several colors on its face, it was for years my practice to make a rough sketch of the face and put upon it the various colors that belong there, in oil-colors, usually, though sometimes with water-colors. It was also my custom to spend half an hour or so in taking a mould, and making a quick cast in plaster Paris of the face of every monkey or baboon which came to me, unless I already had one which would answer as a model to copy in finishing the face.

Skinning Small Quadrupeds.—Lay the animal flat upon its back, head to your right. Hold your knife with the edge up, and push the point through the skin of the throat, precisely in the middle of the neck. Now push the point of the knife forward under the skin, between it and the flesh, and divide the skin in a straight, clean cut along the middle of the neck, breast, and body, quite to the base of the tail. If the animal has a large, fleshy tail, like a dog or raccoon, it must be slit open along the under side (without cutting the hair) for its entire length, except an inch or two at the base. If the tail is small, slender, or bony, like that of a squirrel or a rat, it can usually be slipped out of the skin by pulling the bony part between two sticks held close together against the skin of the tail.

The sole of each foot must be slit open, lengthwise, from the base of the middle toe straight back to the heel, and in case the foot is large and fleshy, like that of a dog, the cut must be continued on up the leg, perhaps one-third of the way to the knee, to enable the skin of the leg to be turned wrong side out over the foot.

Having made all the opening cuts, begin at the abdomen, catch one edge of the skin between thumb and finger, and with the knife cut it neatly and cleanly from the body, leaving as little flesh as possible adhering to the skin. In using the knife do not go at it in a daintily finical way, as if you were picking birdshot out of the leg of a dear friend; for, if you do, it will take you forever to skin your first specimen, and there will be no time left for another. Learn to work briskly but carefully, and by and by you will be able to take off a skin with a degree of neatness and rapidity that will astonish the natives. It is not a dissecting touch that is called for in taking off a skin, but a firm, sweeping, shaving stroke instead, applied to the inside of the skin, and not to the carcass. This applies to all skinning operations on all vertebrates except birds.

After starting at the abdomen, we come very soon to where the foreleg joins the body at the shoulder, and the hind leg at the hip. Disjoint each there, and cut through the muscles until each leg is severed from the body. Skin each leg by turning the skin wrong side out over the foot quite down to the toes. That done, cut the flesh away from the bones of the leg and foot, neatly and thoroughly.

Never leave the foot of an animal unskinned, unless it happens to be a very small one, like a chipmunk, or smaller, and the proper way is to skin the flesh out, even then.

[a]Fig. 2.]—A Squirrel partly Skinned, showing Process.

Be careful to leave all the bones of each leg attached to each other by their ligaments at the joints (see left hind leg in Fig. 2), and to the skin itself at the toes. Never throw away the leg bones, unless the skin you are preserving is to be kept as a pelt or a rug.

Detach the skin from the back, shoulders, and neck, and when you come to the ears, cut them off close down to the head. Turn the skin wrong side out over the head, until you come to the eyes. Now be careful or you will do mischief. Work slowly with the knife, keeping close to the edge of the bony orbit, until you see, through a thin membrane under your knife edge, the dark portion of the eyeball—iris and pupil. You may now cut fearlessly through this membrane and expose the eye. If your work has been properly done, you have not cut the eyelids anywhere. If you are ever in doubt when operating on the eye, thrust the tip of one finger fairly into the eye and against the ball, from without, and cut against it. This is always an excellent plan in skinning large mammals.

Skin down to the end of the nose, cut through the cartilage close to the bone, and cut on down to where the upper lip joins the gum. Cut both lips away from the skull, close to the bone, all the way around the mouth. The lips are thick and fleshy, and must be split open from the inside and flattened out so that the flesh in them can be pared off. Do not mutilate the lips by cutting them away at the edge of the hair, but leave the inside skin, so that in mounting you can fold it in (with a little clay replacing the flesh) and thus make a mouth anatomically correct. Do not shave off the roots of the whiskers, or they will fall out. Gash the flesh between them (they are set in rows), but leave the follicles themselves untouched. Pare away the membrane which adheres to the inside of the eyelids, and turn the ear wrong side out at the base, in order to cut away the flesh around it. If the ears have hair upon them, they must be skinned up from the inside and turned wrong side out quite to the tip, in order to separate the outside skin, which holds the hair, from the cartilage which supports the ear.

[a]Fig. 3.]—Skinning a squirrel's head.

For a full description of ear skinning, see another chapter.

The great principle which is the foundation of all valuable field work on mammal skins is this: A skin must be so taken off, cleaned of flesh, and preserved that the preservative powder or fluid can act directly upon the roots of the hair from the inner side of the skin, and over every portion of its surface. Neither alum, nor salt, nor alcohol (unless it be of great strength) can strike through a thick layer of flesh and penetrate through the skin to the epidermis quickly enough to save it from decomposition. The epidermis of most animals is of such a close and oily nature that preservatives cannot strike through it from without, and therefore when a skin is removed it must be cleaned of flesh and fat, so that the preservative liquid or dry powder can come immediately in contact with the cutis.

The skin is now off. If the lips have been opened out, the ears skinned to the tip (if they be haired), and the feet well skinned down, we are ready to go on. But first we must clean the skull. Cut the flesh all off, or the most of it at least, for it is not possible to get it all away at the base; cut out the eyes and tongue, and with your brain-hook, or a piece of wire hammered flat at the end and bent up at a right angle, patiently draw out the brain through the occipital opening at the base of the skull. By this time, perhaps, the skin will be bloody in places, or possibly it was dirty to start with. Now is the time to wash it thoroughly in clear water. Remember that a skin which has been dried with blood upon it is damaged forever. It stains the hair, and very often forms a hard, gummy mass which nothing will dissolve.

Preservation of the Skin.—The next step depends upon what you propose to do with the skin, or it may depend upon the conditions under which you are collecting. 1. If you are in your laboratory preparing skins to mount, preserve them all (except quite young specimens and certain others) in a soft, or wet state, in a salt-and-alum bath. 2. If you are in the field (especially the tropics), making a large collection of mammal skins for mounting, by all means do the same if possible. 3. If the skins are for purposes of study as skins, during which frequent handling and examination is absolutely necessary, make them up as dry skins. 4. If you lack facilities for preserving them wet, then make dry skins of them. 5. If the necessities of travel and transportation make it necessary to reduce the weight to the lowest possible limit, and to divide it up for carriage overland, make up all skins dry, both little and big. 6. If you have only one or two skins to preserve, it will be less trouble to you to make them up dry at once.

Here are the two methods:

A. The Salt-and-Alum Bath.—This is the finest solution ever discovered for the preservation of the skins of quadrupeds that are destined to be mounted. It is inexpensive, simple, and easy to make; its action is perfect; its strength can be regulated to suit any kind of a skin; it never gets stale; and if properly handled will preserve a skin for a hundred years in the same pliable and elastic condition as when it leaves the animal's back. In only two or three instances have I ever known it to change the color of the hair in the least. Every taxidermist knows that it is far easier to mount a fresh specimen in fine style than an old, dry skin which has lost all its elasticity. The work on a soft skin (i.e., one which has never been dried) can be done more easily, more quickly, and vastly better. With a dry skin you can make only what it will let you; but with a wet skin you can make just as fine a mount as your skill is capable of producing. And with the latter it makes no difference whether the skin came off the animal last week or ten years ago, except in the case of very young animals. Of these the bath softens the leg bones. For years it has been my custom to preserve all skins that I expect to mount (except the young of the smaller species) in this salt-and-alum bath, and it is almost superfluous to add that I strongly advise all others to do the same. In many ways it is a great economy to do so.

Directions for Making It.—For every gallon of water put in three-quarters of a pound of alum (one pint) and a pound and three-quarters of salt (about one quart), and heat the liquid to the boiling-point, stirring occasionally, so that the salt and alum will dissolve. Then pour it into a wooden, earthen, or glass vessel, or a tank lined with lead (for zinc or galvanized iron will not answer), and when it is cool, or even milk warm, it is ready for use. Test it with your salometer (which you can procure for fifty cents of Bahmann & Hoehn, 21 Park Place, New York), and see that it stands at 15°. This is the normal strength. If stronger than that, e.g., 16° or 17°, the skin will be hardened too much. It can go as low as 13° with safety, but that is the limit. At 12° skins are liable to lose their hair.

Directions for Use.—If the hair is tight on the skin everywhere, simply immerse it in the bath, leg bones and all, giving it plenty of room at first. Move it up and down, and leave it as much spread out and free from folds as possible. Remember that the fluid must act upon the inside of the skin, for the epidermis is often almost impervious to it. If you allow the skin to lie upon itself in thick folds, stuck together on the inside, those spots are liable to lose their hair in a most unaccountable and aggravating way. If the skin is small and thin, the bath soon does its work; but if it is a large skin, move it up and down, and all about, every day for the first two or three days. By the end of that time its preservation will be complete.

Half-spoiled Specimens.—Very often a subject will be brought to you in the flesh, several days old, green on the abdomen, and the hair starting to slip off between the hind legs. If the hair pulls out readily on various parts of the body and limbs, it is a gone case; but if it starts only a little on the lower part of the abdomen, and is firm everywhere else, put some bath, with a little extra alum in it, on the fire to get warm, snatch that skin off in a hurry, and without stopping for any fancy touches whisk it into the warm bath. The bath should not be so hot that you cannot bear your hand in it. It will act like magic. Then you can gradually finish your work on the skin, so as to keep it safe from harm. Very often quick work, and a warm bath with plenty of alum in it, will save a skin in fine, mountable shape, when nothing else will. The alum acts as a powerful astringent, drawing together the fibres of the epidermis around the root of each individual hair, and likewise binding together the cutis and epidermis.

Cleanliness.—You will observe that as fresh skins are put into a bath it gradually loses its strength, and it is also liable to become, in time, so dirty with blood and grease that it must be thrown away. Keep skins that are greasy (bear, seal, etc.) carefully by themselves, and never put the skin of a deer, cat, or any animal with a fine coat in a greasy or dirty bath. If a bath is clean, but of too low strength, make some extra strong bath, say 20°, and add to it and bring it up to 15°. Keep all your bath receptacles tightly closed, or the liquid will evaporate very rapidly.

Testing the Bath.—If you have no salometer, and are not overparticular, you can test your bath by tasting it; but unless the bath is new and untouched, I prefer the little salometer. By tasting the bath when first made in the proportions given above, and remembering the degree of its astringency upon the tongue, you can make that a standard for comparison—if it suits your taste!

Skulls and Leg Bones.—The leg bones of all small and medium sized mammals, even up to the deer, can just as well go into the bath, after they have been thoroughly cleaned of all flesh and tendons. The skulls, however, had better not go into the solution. Clean them carefully, anoint them all over with thin arsenical soap, put a tag on each to show to what skin it belongs, and let it dry. Don't lay it aside without poisoning, or it will be swarming with dermestes before you know it.

As before stated, a skin must have room while it is curing, but when that has been thoroughly accomplished, which with the largest skins never takes more than four or five days, they can be packed together like sardines so long as the bath is strong enough.

B. Making Dry Skins.—Poisoning and Preserving.—When the skin has been removed and cleaned, the next step is to sew up from the inside any holes that may have been made in the skin by bullets or knives. Then make up a mixture of two-thirds powdered alum and one-third arsenic, and rub as much of it upon the inside of the skin as will stick there. The alum is to preserve the skin, the arsenic to poison it against the attacks of insects. Apply this mixture thoroughly, especially in the feet, ears, head, and tail, for these are the points the dermestes attack first.

Another Method, and one which I almost invariably follow when I am compelled to make dry skins, is to anoint the skin with strong arsenical soap,[3]—the finest poison for skins yet discovered,—then rub on the skin, as soon as the soap has been fully absorbed, a mixture of fine salt and powdered alum, in equal proportions. Though the arsenical soap may be thought "mussy" at first, it should not be used thin and watery, but as a thin paste, like thick cream. The advantages of this method are—(1), that the skin is more thoroughly poisoned, especially externally, on the hairless portions; (2), the skin dries without

becoming so hard and brittle and inelastic; and (3), it can be softened and mounted much more easily and successfully than skins prepared by the first method. For skins which are to be mounted, the advantages of this method are very obvious.

The Simplest Method.—If you have neither arsenic nor arsenical soap, and yet wish to save a skin so it can be sent to a taxidermist in good condition, prepare it with fine salt alone. Use the salt liberally, and if the weather is warm, leave the skin turned wrong side out and roll it up in a quantity of it. If you use it sparingly, the skin will absorb it all in a day or two, literally "cry for more," and failing to get it will sweat and spoil. It is simply a question of enough salt.

Even when collecting in the field, I nearly always cure small skins with salt only, so that they will stay quite soft and fresh until they get to the laboratory, and then go into the bath without ever having been dried.

Rats.—Skins preserved with salt only must be carefully guarded from the attacks of mice, rats, cats, dogs, and other vermin that go about seeking what they may devour.

Making up a Dry Skin.—The Legs.—Having applied the preservatives, if you propose to make up your specimen as a dry skin, wrap a little tow, oakum, cotton, or cotton cloth around the bones of each leg, to partly replace the flesh, and keep the skin away from the bone, so that both can dry quickly. If you have no other material, paper will do. In the East Indies, where transportation was difficult, I used to carry with me bundles of coarse brown paper such as the grocers use, and used it for wrapping the leg bones of monkeys, foxes, and the like. But for the small rodents, one must have either tow, oakum, cotton, or cloth, the preference being in the order named. On no account should the skin be left to dry down upon the bone. The proper filling out of the legs is desirable in order that they may have a neat, shapely, and natural appearance, so that the hair will lie naturally, and can be studied to advantage. If this part of the process is neglected, the skin of the leg shrivels up, dries down upon the bone, and looks like a mummy. In the tropics the moisture in a leg bone is sufficient to cause the decay of the skin which surrounds it unless they are separated by some kind of wrapping. To avoid this, some tropical, collectors allow their skins to dry wrong side out, a most lazy and vicious habit, the results of which are in most cases totally worthless.

[a]Fig. 4.]—A Model Mammal Skin.

Having wrapped the leg bones enough fairly to replace the flesh, turn back the skin of the leg until it comes right side out again, adjust the skin neatly, and make the member as shapely and natural as you please.

The Skull.—There are two ways of disposing of the skull. The universal custom has been to replace it in the head, with a little filling in the cheeks and orbits, the lips neatly adjusted on the teeth, and the eyelids also in their place, half open. This makes the best looking skin, and unless you wish to study the skull, is the best method to follow. For skins that are specially designed for study, the plan lately adopted by the curator of mammals of the National Museum is an excellent one. It is to remove the skull entirely from the head, and in case of all mammals smaller than a coyote, put it in the centre of the body, with the filling, in the line of the seam along the belly, so that by cutting a few stitches in the dry specimen it may be readily taken out at any time. The advantages of this arrangement are obvious.

The Tail.—The tail must be disposed of according to its character. If it is long and slender, take a small wire, wrap it with tow or cotton cloth, so that the skin cannot touch the iron at any point, insert it in the tail and sew it up with a few long stitches. If you have not the means wherewith to do this, whittle a slender stick to a point, and insert it in the tail from within two inches of the body out to the tip. If the tail is large, and has been split open for its entire length, it can be left flat.

Filling.—Begin at the head and fill out the head, neck, and body to about the natural size of the animal when alive, but no larger. Better leave it too small than fill it too full, and stretch the skin out of proportion. With needle and thread sew up the skin to give it a neat appearance, beginning at the throat. Comb and brush the hair so that it will lie naturally, and show its texture and colors to the best advantage. Take a stitch also in the centre of the lips to hold them together.

[a]Fig. 5.]—Another Form of Mammal Skin.

Shaping.—The ends to be sought in laying out a skin to dry are, to have it take up a limited amount of space in a drawer, to have all breakable points protected, and at the same time to have all parts of the specimen accessible for examination. The shape of a dry skin, therefore, must depend upon its character. The handsomest collection of small mammal skins that I have ever seen is that of Dr. C. Hart Merriam, Chief of the Bureau of Economic Ornithology and Mammalogy, Department of Agriculture. Although it is purely a private collection, it contains at this date 5,750 skins. Dr. Merriam's method of shaping a skin is certainly, so far as looks are concerned, the best yet devised. Fig. 4, on the opposite page, shows it perfectly. The tail is wired, and extends straight out behind, lying between the hind legs, which also extend directly backward. The forelegs are drawn forward just far enough apart to allow the head to lie between them. The skin is well shaped, and lies flat upon the belly, with all the members resting down upon the bottom of the drawer.

With specimens having long tails this arrangement is open to one objection. In the rough-and-tumble experiences that collections made in the field almost inevitably go through before they reach safe anchorage in the museum, a long tail sticking straight out for its full length is very liable to suffer damage in various ways, especially at the tip. For this reason I always bend the tail down and lay it along on the belly, with a stitch or two to hold it there, safe from harm (Fig. 5). And with such animals as monkeys, sloths, cats, etc., having long and slender forelegs, I always place those members close alongside the body, instead of extending them their full length toward the front.

Steel Combs.—For dressing the hair of an animal it pays to have a furrier's fine steel comb, and a coarser comb of German silver, such as can be obtained at seventy-five and fifty cents each, respectively, of J. Ruszits, No. 73 Mercer Street, New York. The same furrier also furnishes a very large steel robe-comb (like an infant garden rake), which is very useful on large mammals having long, matted hair, such as buffaloes, camels, llamas, and the like.

[CHAPTER V.]

COLLECTING AND PRESERVING THE SKINS OF LARGE MAMMALS.

The fundamental principles to be observed in skinning a large mammal are, in general, precisely the same as those which govern the same process in small mammals, and which have been recorded in detail in the preceding chapter. Having done my best to afford the student a clear and full understanding of those principles, it is almost unnecessary to say anything about large mammals. A keen-witted worker could skin any mammal and preserve the skin by the light of the directions already given, with such variations as common-sense would dictate.

But, in order to aid the student to the fullest extent, we will endeavor to state the exceptions and variations of method which are necessary in disposing of large subjects.

Measurements.—Up to this hour there has been a total lack of system and uniformity among naturalists and hunters in taking measurements of large quadrupeds. I have in several important cases found it utterly impossible to interpret the meaning of measurements taken by other collectors—and it is very likely they have experienced the same difficulty in understanding mine. In the hope of securing uniformity hereafter in observations of this kind, I venture to propose the following system, which will apply to all terrestrial mammals larger than the fox, except the large quadrumana. If the method here proposed is rigidly adhered to, it will produce a uniformity in results that will certainly increase the value of specimens collected hereafter. The measurements are listed in the order of their importance, and are fully indicated in the accompanying illustration (Plate III.). Straight lines indicate straight measurements between two points, not following curves; and curved lines indicate circumference measurements.

Record all measurements in feet and inches, and fractions of an inch. If you would have your records understood by the few rather than by the many, then bow to the dictates of the French and German naturalists, who, as a rule, care not a brass farthing for American science or zoological nomenclature, and employ the metric system. The chances are as twenty to one that no one outside of the English language will ever care a continental about your measurements, and for this reason United States measurements ought to be good enough for us. There is no more reason why 120,000,000 English-speaking people should adopt the metric system for a few Europeans who might care for their measurements, than that we should write all our zoological books and papers in French or German. If you wish to make your records available to the people who will care for them, make them in the United States language.

1. Length of head and body to root of tail (Plate III., A-A).—In taking this measurement, lay the animal upon its side, stretch the head straight forward as far as it will go, and hold a stick perpendicular against the tip of the nose. Erect another perpendicular rod under the tail, close to where it joins the body, at the angle formed by the lines A and H, then measure between these two perpendiculars.

2. Height at the shoulders (B-B).—This is a difficult measurement to take, because it is subject to the management of the operator. Plant a perpendicular rod close against the shoulders at the highest point. Then hold the foreleg perfectly straight, at a right angle to the axis of the body, and bend up the foot into the position it would assume if the animal were standing upon it. In short, place the foreleg and foot exactly as they would be were the animal alive and standing, with its weight resting upon it, and measure from the bottom of the heel in a straight line to the perpendicular at the shoulders.

3. Girth behind foreleg.—In taking this, always measure at the point where the girth of a saddle touches the horse, and draw the tape-line taut upon the skin. If the hair is thick and long, part it.

4. Circumference of the neck.

PLATE III. [a]Measurements of a Large Mammal. (Polar Bear on Ice-floe. Mounted by the Author.)]

5. Depth of flank (E-E).—To a taxidermist, this is often a very important guide in the construction of a manikin. There is always a thin fold of skin at the point where the skin of the hind leg passes to the side of a large animal, as indicated by the dotted line in the figure, at the lower end of the line E-E. Erect a perpendicular at the upper end of the line E, and measure between the two points.

6. Circumference of forearm (F-F).—To be taken at the point where the forearm has the greatest circumference.

7. From head of humerus to head of femur.—This is always of extreme value in building a manikin. As the animal lies upon its side, hold the foreleg the same as when you measured the height at the shoulders. Then feel for the two high points G-G, where the skin rests on the outer extremity of the arm and thigh bones (not the pelvis), at shoulder and hip, and measure between the two points.

8. Length of tail (H-H).—Hold the tail down at an angle of forty-five degrees with the axis of the body, or the line A-A, and measure from the angle A-H to the end of the vertebræ of the tail. If you measure to the end of the hair, let this be a supplementary measurement.

These are the measurements which should always be taken on a large animal. Of course, of certain subjects, there are many other measurements that you will want, but your own needs will tell you what they are.

Weight.—It is very desirable to ascertain the weight of an animal whenever possible. A thousand times, at least, have I been asked the weight of my big tiger (495 pounds), and that number of times have I been glad that in spite of jungle fever, I persevered with my 50-pound scales, and weighed the animal piecemeal, after he had been skinned and cut up. With a particularly fine animal it is well worth the trouble it costs.

[a]Fig. 6.]—Opening Cuts on a Large Mammal.

Skinning a Large Mammal.—Rip the skin open by a clean, straight cut from the throat along the neck, breast, middle of the belly, and on to the root of the tail. We are now obliged to slit the legs open along their entire length, so that the cuts will be as much out of sight as possible when the animal is mounted. In making these opening cuts, always insert the point of the knife under the skin, edge uppermost, to avoid cutting the hair. To rip open a leg, seize the foot in your left hand, bring the leg against your own knee to hold it tense and firm, then insert the point of your knife into the middle of the foot at the back, and cut straight up the back of the leg until you come to the "knee" on the foreleg, and hock-joint on the other. At these points gradually change the direction of the cut and run it on up the inside so that it will finally come to the body-cut at a point exactly between the legs, and as much as possible out of sight. The lines in the accompanying figure (6) show how the cuts in the legs should be made. In skinning the head of an animal having antlers or horns, it is necessary to make an opening at the back of the neck shaped like a Y. Make the cuts as shown in Fig. 7, on opposite page; cut completely around each horn at its base, and skin the head by working downward over the forehead and cheeks. The skull is then taken out through this Y[4].

Thoroughness.—The principles to be observed in skinning the body are precisely the same as those given for small mammals. Remember that it is easier to take the skin off clean and free from flesh as you cut it from the animal, and can stretch it tight with your left hand in order to shave the flesh off clean, than it will be to clean the skin after it is off. An excess of flesh left on the skin means unnecessary weight, a waste of preservatives, and longer time in curing the skin. A clean, thin skin is more easily and quickly cured and carried than one badly taken off. My habit is to clean a skin so thoroughly in taking it off that no paring down is necessary before curing it—unless, indeed, it be the skin of an elephant or other pachyderm. When I once preserved the skin of a large, old elephant in an Indian jungle, I kept ten native chucklers at work upon it for three days, thinning it down to a portable degree.

[a]Fig. 7.]—Opening Cuts at Back of Prong-horn Antelope's Head.

The Legs.—If the specimen is of medium size, e.g., not larger than a deer, disjoint the legs at shoulder and hip, and leave all the leg bones attached to the skin, just as with small mammals; but, of course, cutting off the flesh and tendons carefully. If the animal is larger than a deer, the skin would be too heavy and cumbersome to handle if all the leg bones were left attached to it. Therefore, with your elk, moose, buffalo, etc., cut off the foreleg at the "knee" (so called), and the hind leg at the hock-joint, leaving the calcaneum, or heel-bone, attached to the canon bone, and thus remaining with the skin. The bones from the two upper joints of the legs are to be cleaned of flesh, tied in a bundle, and sent with the skin—unless the collector happens to be travelling by pack train in mountainous country, far afield. In such a case we can forgive him for throwing away the large bones of the legs if he will only bring in the skin, skull, and lower leg bones all right. The point is, in mounting a skin we must have leg bones—if not the real ones, then they must be counterfeits carved out of wood, to give shape to the legs, particularly at the joints. And he who tries it once will find it is a two or three days' job to carve a large set of leg bones, even with patterns by which to work, to say nothing of having to evolve models from one's inner consciousness. Therefore, I say, save the leg bones.

Beware of Blood.—By all means keep the hair from getting bloody, but if you cannot possibly keep it clean, keep it as clean as you can. Remember that blood must be washed out on the spot, no matter how scarce water is, nor whether the mercury stand at 110° above zero, or 10° below. If a wound bleeds profusely, throw plenty of dry dirt or sand on the hair that has become bloody, to absorb the blood. The dirt can be knocked out with a stick, and it will take the blood with it. If the white hair of the prong-horn antelope once gets soaked with blood, it is impossible to remove all traces of it. The soft, tubular hairs get filled with blood wherever there is a break, and enough of it will always remain to mark the catastrophe. In the Bad Lands of Montana I once washed three long and bitterly cold hours on a fine antelope skin that had lain twenty-four hours with blood upon it, but had to give up beaten, at last, and throw the skin away.

Shaping.—Since these directions will be used chiefly in preparing the skins of deer, antelope, and kindred ruminants, the accompanying illustration (Fig. 8) is given to show how such skins should be made up when they are to be preserved dry, either for study or for mounting. It is best to defer folding up a skin until it is partially dry and has begun to stiffen a little.

[a]Fig. 8.]—A Well-made Dry Deer Skin.

Special and Exceptional Directions.—Apes and Monkeys.—If you are in the jungle, the chances are that you will have no plaster Paris with which to make casts, in which case you must make the sketching-pencil and tape-measure do double duty. With such a wonderful and characteristic form as a gorilla, chimpanzee, or orang-utan, you cannot study it too much, unless you study it until the skin spoils. Above all things, study every feature of the face, and also its expression, so that you can make a copy of it two years afterward which shall be both mathematically and artistically correct. If you have plaster Paris, fail not to take a mould of the face, and also of one hand and foot, so that later you can make casts. The same advice applies to the great baboons with their fearful and wonderful faces and ischial callosities, some of them gotten up with all the colors of the rainbow, and far more brilliancy. Remember that when the skin dries all those colors totally disappear, and the skin turns to the color of parchment. Therefore, out with your box of colors at once, and make a color-sketch of the face. If you have skill but no colors, or colors with no skill, then out with your "Ridgway's Nomenclature of Colors," make a large diagram or sketch of the head, and mark the names of the respective colors upon it. Whenever the skin of any animal has any noticeable color, record the fact in as definite terms as possible.

All the great anthropoid apes should have the opening-cut for the body made along the middle of the back, up to the back of the head, instead of along the abdomen and breast, which are generally but thinly haired, and on the throat are quite naked. By doing this, the sewed-up seam comes at the back of the mounted specimen, in the hair, and out of sight. With adult specimens of the gorilla, chimpanzee, and orang the skeleton is quite as valuable as the skin, therefore every bone must come forth and be carefully preserved. Skinning the fingers is a tedious task, and one which requires some skill, especially when it comes to working the end off so that the nail is left in its place in the skin, and without mutilation. But when the value of a skin and skeleton runs up into hundreds of dollars, you can well afford to spend a whole hour in skinning a hand, if you cannot do it in less time. The opening cuts for the hand and foot of any ape or monkey are to be made as shown by the dotted lines in the accompanying sketch of the foot of an orang-utan (Fig. 9). This is necessary even in skinning small quadrumanes which are to retain their leg bones, because the skin of each finger must be separated from the bone so that the preservative powder or liquid can get at the inside of it.

[a]Fig. 9.]—Foot of Orang-Utan, showing Opening Cuts.

The Eyes and Nose.—Be exceedingly careful in skinning the face. The eyes are deeply sunken in their sockets, and if you are not very careful your knife will make an ugly gash at the corner of the eye before you know it. A finger held in between the lids against the eyeball will be a safe guide. Of course, you will cut the lips away at the gum, and split them open afterward from the inside to remove the flesh. And, of course, the proboscis of the baboon and the long-nosed monkey of Borneo must be skinned out quite to the tip while the specimen is fresh, or it will dry up horribly.

The Ear.—The ear of a quadrumane, especially that of a chimpanzee, because of its great size, is a very miserable part to preserve, unless you have a salt-and-alum bath at hand. If the cartilage is entirely skinned out—itself a difficult thing to do—it will afterward be almost a practical impossibility to give the ear its proper shape. Therefore the cartilage must remain. The skin can be loosened from the cartilage at the back of the ear, however, which is a great gain. Do this, and insert a good quantity of powdered alum. Then paint the whole ear over on both sides with arsenical soap, and put on all the powdered alum that will stick—unless the skin is to go in the bath. In that case treat each ear to a little strong alum water for an hour or so.

[CHAPTER VI.]

COLLECTING SKINS OF SMALL BIRDS.

The lives of hundreds of thousands of wild birds have been sacrificed to no purpose by persons claiming to be ornithological collectors, and yet who had not the knowledge, skill, or industry to make up good bird skins. There are now in this country numerous large collections of bird skins that are a sight to behold. The ability to make up fine, clean, shapely, well-preserved skins, and make them rapidly also, is a prime requisite in anyone who aspires to be sent off to interesting "foreign parts" to shoot, collect, and see the world—at the expense of someone else. An aspiring young friend of the writer, whose soul yearned to travel and "collect," missed a fine opportunity to make a very interesting voyage on the Albatross, for the sole reason that with all his yearning he could not make good bird skins,—and it served him right for his lack of enterprise.

Let me tell you that, while twenty years ago any sort of a bird skin was acceptable to a museum, now such specimens must be first class in order to be well received. Fine skins are the rule now with curators and professional ornithologists, and poor ones the exception. Although the work itself is simple enough, it is no child's play to perform it successfully.

It is best for the beginner to learn first how to skin small birds, and make up their skins, and when he has mastered these details he is prepared to undertake the preparation of large specimens, and learn how to overcome the exceptional difficulties they present. To this end the present chapter will be devoted to setting forth the leading principles involved, which are most easily learned from small specimens.

We will first undertake the work of skinning a small bird—a robin, thrush, or blackbird, whichever you happen to have. If in skinning, skin-making, and mounting you master the robin, for example, which is the highest type of a bird, you will be well prepared for the great majority of the other members of the feathered tribe.

Shoot your specimen with as fine shot as possible, and not too much even of that, in order to avoid shooting its mandibles, feet, legs, and feathers to pieces. As soon as it is dead, plug the throat, nostrils, and all wounds that bleed, with bits of cotton, to keep the blood and other liquids from oozing out upon the feathers, and putting you to more serious trouble. Carry the specimen home in any careful way you choose, so as to avoid rumpling or soiling the plumage. By all means let your first practice be upon clean birds.

[a]Fig. 10.]—Names of the External Parts of a Bird.[5] 1, Crown; 2, forehead; 3, nostrils (or cere); 4, upper mandible; 5, lower mandible; 6, throat; 7, neck; 8, spurious quills; 9, occiput; 10, ear; 11, nape; 12, breast; 13, middle coverts; 14, large coverts; 15, belly; 16, tibia; 17, tarsus; 18, inner toe; 19, middle toe; 20, outer toe; 21, thumb; 22, under-tail coverts; 23, tail; 24, primaries; 25, secondaries; 26, tertiaries.

A bird should lie an hour or two after being shot, in order that the blood may coagulate. Warm specimens bleed very badly in skinning.

We are now in our workroom, with the gun standing quietly in its corner, and a robin lying on the table before us. Look at it. Study its form and structure, and remember what you see. Notice how smoothly the feathers lie—how nicely they fall over the angle of the wing at the shoulder—how completely the thigh is buried in the feathers of the breast and side, and also where the legs emerge from the body feathers. Notice how

short the neck is, how the eye does not bulge out of the head, and note the fact that the breast and belly look full, round, and comfortable, instead of presenting that ghastly, drawn-up, eviscerated appearance so often seen in the amateur's mounted specimens. Note the color of the eye, the bill, the cere, tarsi, claws, and all other parts that will require painting when the specimen is mounted, if it ever should be. Now take the following Measurements.—It would be high treason for me to recommend any other system of bird measurement than that directed by Dr. Coues in his incomparable "Key to North American Birds," and it is hereby set forth:

1. Length.—Distance between the tip of the bill and the end of the longest feather of the tail.

2. Extent of wings.—This means the distance between the tips of the outstretched wings as the bird lies flat upon its back.

3. Length of wing.—Distance from the angle formed at the (carpus) bend of the wing to the end of the largest primary. In birds with a convex wing, do not lay the tape-line over the curve, but under the wing, in a straight line.

4. Length of the tail.—Distance from the roots of the tail feathers to the end of the longest one. Feel for the "pope's nose;" in either a fresh or dried specimen there is more or less of a palpable lump into which the tail feathers stick. Guess as near as you can to the middle of this lump; place the end of the ruler opposite the point, and see where the tip of the longest tail feather comes.

5. Length of bill.—Dr. Coues takes "the chord of the culmen," which is determined thus: "Place one foot of the dividers on the culmen just where the feathers end; no matter whether the culmen runs up on the forehead, or the frontal feathers run out on the culmen, and no matter whether the culmen is straight or curved. With me the length of the bill is the shortest distance from the point indicated to the tip of the upper mandible."

6. Length of tarsus.—Distance between the joint of the tarsus with the leg above, and that with the first phalanx of the middle toe below. Measure it always with the dividers, and in front of the leg.

7. Length of toes.—Distance in a straight line along the upper surface of a toe is from the point last indicated to the root of the claw on top. Length of toe is to be taken without the claw, unless otherwise specified.

8. Length of the claws.—Distance in a straight line from the point last indicated to the tip of the claw.

9. Length of head.—Set one foot of the dividers over the base of the culmen, and allow the other to slip just snugly down over the arch of the occiput.

For skinning a small bird, the only instrument imperatively necessary is a good-sized scalpel or a sharp penknife. You can use a pair of small scissors now and then, if you have them, to very good advantage, in severing legs and wings and clipping off tendons. Have ready a dish of corn meal to absorb any blood that is likely to soil the feathers. Now push a wad of cotton up the vent, and we are ready to remove the skin.

No, there is one thing more. The wings lie close to the body, and will be continually in our way unless we break them so that they will fall back and leave us a clear field. It is the humerus that must be snapped in two, as close to the body as possible. Those of small birds are easily broken with the thumb and finger, but in a large bird they must be treated to a sharp blow with a heavy stick, or a hammer.

Lay the bird upon its back, with its head toward your left hand; part the feathers in a straight line, and divide the skin from the centre of the breast straight down to the end of the breastbone, and on until the vent is reached. Cut through the skin only, for if you go too deep and cut through the wall of the abdomen you will have the intestines and various other troubles upon your hands.

Skin down each side of the bird until you come to the knee-joint, which lies close to the body, and well within the skin. Sever each leg completely at the knee, leaving the thigh attached to the body, turn the skin of the leg wrong side out over the fleshy part, quite down to the joint, and then cut away every particle of flesh from the bone of the leg.

Sever the tail from the body close to the ends of the tail feathers, without cutting through the skin. Now take the body between the thumb and forefinger of the left hand, holding it at the hips, and with the other hand separate the skin from the back. From this point we proceed to turn the skin wrong side out over the shoulders and head. When the wings are reached, cut them off where they are broken, and turn the skin down over the neck. Avoid cutting through the crop. If blood flows at any time, absorb it all with the corn meal or plaster Paris.

[a]Fig. 11.]—First Steps in Skinning a Bird.

Almost before you know it you have skinned your bird down to the head, for it hangs head downward during the latter part of the operation, suspended on a small wire hook thrust through the pelvis, so that you can work with both hands.

It is a trifle more difficult to turn the skin over the head. Push it up from the back of the head with the thumb-nail, working it patiently, at all points, and stretching the skin gradually until it will pass over the widest part of the skull. Presently the crisis is past, the skin slips down without trouble, and we see by the way it is held at a certain point on each side of the head that we have come to the ears. Cut through the skin close up to the head, and a little farther on we reach the eyes.

Now be careful. Cut very slowly at the eye, and close to the head, until you can see through the thin membrane and define the exact position of the eyeball. Now cut through the membrane, but do not cut the eyelid on any account. A little farther and we come to the base of the bill, where the skin and our skinning stops.

Cut through the back of the skull so as to sever the head completely from the neck, and lay bare the base of the brain. Remove the brain from the skull; cut the eyes out of their sockets; cut out the tongue and remove all flesh from the skull.

Skin each wing down to the first joint, or the elbow, and stop the "wrong-side-out" process there. The ends of the secondaries must not be separated from the bone of the forearm, or the ulna. It is possible to clean out the flesh from the forearm and also from the arm bone (humerus) without detaching the ends of the secondaries, as you will readily see. Cut away any flesh which has been left at the root of the tail, but do not cut the ends of the tail feathers.

[a]Fig. 12.]—The Skin Wrong Side Out, and Ready to be Poisoned.

The next thing is to poison the skin. Do this with a mixture of powdered arsenic and alum, in equal parts. Some of our most extensive collectors use no alum, simply pure arsenic in liberal quantity; but I consider that the use of alum also is always desirable, and under certain conditions it is extremely so. Some collectors use arsenical soap exclusively, even on small birds, and on large birds I, too, have used it quite extensively, supplemented by an immediate sprinkling of powdered alum, to do the curing of the skin. For genuine thoroughness in poisoning and preserving, I will back arsenical soap and alum against all other substances the world can produce; but in treating small birds that are to be made up as dry skins, I prefer and recommend powdered arsenic and alum, as stated above.

Whatever poison you decide to use, apply it thoroughly to every part of the skin, the skull, wings, legs, and tail. Now put a ball of cotton in each eye-socket to fill up the cavity, and you are ready to reverse the skin and bring it right side out once more. It is usually some trouble to get the skin back over the skull, and that I accomplish in this wise:

Let the skin rest on the edge of the table, place both of your thumbs on the back of the skull, and with all your fingers and finger-nails, reach forward and begin to crowd the skin of the head back where it belongs. At the same time, you must push on the skull with your thumbs, as if trying to push it into the neck, and in a very short time, by a combination of coaxing and crowding, the skin made passes the critical point on the skull, and, presto! the whole skin is right side out once more. Now take it by the bill and give it a gentle shaking to stir up the feathers so that they will fall back naturally. Pluck outward the cotton in the orbit into the opening of the eye, to imitate the round fullness of the eyeball.

The wing bones of very small birds need not be wrapped with cotton, but the leg bones should be, always. Now take a bunch of cotton batting of the right size, and roll it between the palms until it attains the proper size to fill the neck, and is a trifle longer than the entire body and neck. Fold over one end of this, take it between the points of your forceps, insert it through the neck, and into the cavity of the skull. Tuck up the other end at the tail, and give the cotton body its right length. Then in the middle of the skin, pull the cotton roll apart sidewise, spread it out and lay on it a ball of cotton to form the body.

Next, take hold of the broken humerus with the forceps, and pull it inward until the joint of the wing appears, and the two humeri lie parallel and close to each other. This draws the wings into place.

Be sure to put enough cotton in the body of a skin; for a little plumpness and rotundity is desirable in a small skin. Avoid making cylindrical bird skins; avoid the East Indian native habit of crowding the breast of a bird clear up into its neck, and also avoid stretching a skin.

We have now to finish the head by inserting a little bunch of cotton in the throat, until that part is properly filled, and plucking out or cutting off the surplus. The mandibles must be held together by a thread or a pin until they have dried in position. Next adjust the wings, legs, and tail. The tail should be slightly spread, and there are two ways of doing this. One is to reverse the natural overlapping of the tail feathers, which is the quickest way, and quite satisfactory. The other is to lay the skin on a board, put a pin through each corner of the "pope's nose," spread the tail, and thrust the pins into the board until the skin is dry. Finally, tie on your label, which should be as small as possible to contain the necessary data—locality, date, sex, number, collector's name, measurements, and remarks. Some collectors label only with numbers, corresponding with recorded data in a note-book; but it is a bad plan. Note-books often get lost, and then such specimens lose half their value.

[a]Fig. 13.]—The Bird Skin in Position.

Wrapping up a Skin.—There are various ways of "laying out" bird skins. The best is to wrap each skin in a very thin sheet of cotton batting or wadding, which draws with the softness of down, and yet, when pinched or twisted at the ends, it holds every feather in place. The bird skins prepared by Mr. William Palmer, one of the National Museum taxidermists, are fine examples of how skins should be made. Mr. Palmer's method of shaping and wrapping up a small skin is as follows, and the accompanying figures are from specimens prepared by him: Take the skin up between the left thumb and forefinger, at the shoulders, and pinch it together, while with the small forceps you adjust the scapulars over the point of the wings. Cross the feet, lay the skin breast downward on a thin sheet of cotton batting of the proper dimensions, and arrange the feathers of the back, the wings, etc. (Fig. 13). Then lift the outer edge of the sheet of cotton, bring it forward over the skin toward the operator, so that it will cover the back (Fig. 14). Next, lift the inner edge of the cotton sheet, draw it with gentle pressure to make the skin of the right size, and lap it well over the other. The two edges of the cotton sheet will stick together very well by simply overlapping them.

[a]Fig. 14.]—The Skin Half Wrapped.

The head can be adjusted by pulling on the cotton at that end, and pinching the end together beyond the head. The bill must be set at the proper angle, and held by catching the point in the cotton. Do not let the bill point straight out, for it will stretch the skin of the throat too much; neither should it point up at a right angle to the body, for the tip will be catching in everything that comes near it. The best way with most short-billed birds is to let the bill point at an angle of about forty-five degrees to the axis of the body. Beaks that are very long require special arrangement, as shown in Figs. 17 and 18.

Now lift the wrapped-up skin, lay it with the tail toward you, breast uppermost, and with both hands tear the cotton open in a straight line up to the base of the tail (Fig. 15). You can now spread the tail by overlapping the feathers, or leave it closed if you prefer. See that your label is on, adjust the toes and legs carefully, then fold over the edges of the cotton and overlap them, and the skin is done (Fig. 16). Always spread the toes of all swimming-birds.

[a]Fig. 15.]—Spreading the Tail.

Another plan is to dispose of each skin in a little cylinder of paper, made to fit, of course. This is the best plan when you are far from the conveniences of home, and in a hurry. The effect of this, however, is to produce a cylindrical skin, which is not a prize shape. Still another way is to make a small cornucopia of stiff paper, and slip the skin into it, head first, after which the large end is closed by bending in the edges. The old-fashioned, corrugated drying-board is an excellent resource when you are in a great hurry with a number of specimens.

[a]Fig. 16.]—The Skin fully Wrapped.

The illustration on p. 56 (Fig. 17), from one of Mr. Palmer's specimens, shows the shape a small skin should have to be considered perfect.

[a]Fig. 17.]—A Perfect Bird Skin.

Freshly made bird skins should never be subjected to crowding or pressure, nor should old skins either, for that matter. If you go far afield, and expect to collect hundreds of skins, you should go provided with a light and strong chest, either made to open at one side and contain a series of shallow drawers to receive skins, or else, which is the next best thing, and very easily made, a box containing a series of shallow tills of varying depth, standing one upon another from bottom to top. Each drawer or till should be made just deep enough to hold skins of a certain size, but no more, or else in travelling the skins will tumble about. Remember it is useless to try to make large collections of good skins in the field unless you can take care of your finished specimens. This is for specimens freshly prepared and not yet dry. After skins become thoroughly dry, they can be packed "in bulk," in a chest or trunk, by putting the largest at the bottom, and filling the cavities with the small skins which cannot stand so much pressure. Bird skins should always be packed in cotton when they are to be shipped, giving to each a soft, comfortable resting-place, and the box must be filled full, so that there will be no tossing about.

Determination of Sex in Birds.—To a collector who is working under difficulties this often seems like the very "last straw upon a camel's back;" but it must be attended to in every case wherein the sex of the bird is not clearly and unmistakably indicated by the plumage. If you can, get an experienced ornithologist to show you how to determine the sex in difficult subjects (e.g., young birds, or birds midway between two breeding seasons). But there are ways in which we can help ourselves. If you begin with birds during or near the breeding season, you will have plain sailing long enough to become familiar with the subject.

In birds the organs of generation lie close up to the lumbar vertebræ, near the kidneys, in the region called "the small of the back." The best way to reach this region for examination is to make a cut clear across the wall of the abdomen, break the back over at the last pair of ribs, and the intestines will at once fall down, exposing the lumbar region. You will then see the kidneys—two large, dark-brown masses situated in the concavity of the sacrum—and on their surface, at the upper end, lie the reproductive organs. The testicles of the male are two dull, whitish, ellipsoidal, or nearly round bodies, of the same size, lying close together. The sign for this sex is the astronomical sign for the planet Mars ♂.

The ovary of the female is, except during the breeding season, the most difficult to distinguish. Look first for a little bunch of minute round globules, of varying sizes and grayish white color. In the breeding season the eggs are easily found. Failing in that, you must look for the ovary itself, which, when found, will be recognized as a little, irregular, flattish bunch of a light gray color. If you search with a magnifying-glass, you may be able to detect it by its peculiar granulated appearance. The sign for the female is the sign for the planet Venus ♀.

[CHAPTER VII.]

COLLECTING SKINS OF LARGE BIRDS.

General Principles Involved in Skinning Large Birds.—In skinning a large bird you must have room according to your strength and the size of your subject. You will need the usual materials in quantity, plenty of table space, and a stout hook depending from the ceiling at the end of a stout cord, to hang your half-skinned victim upon at a certain stage of the proceedings.

With but few exceptions, the process in skinning a large bird is, from start to finish, precisely similar in principle to that for a small one, which has already been described. When you get the body about half skinned, and are well started up the back, thrust your hanging hook into the top of the pelvis, and suspend the bird in mid-air, so that you can work with both hands. Be careful, however, throughout the whole operation that you do not allow the weight of the body of the skin to stretch the skin of the neck.

If the head is small enough that the skin of the neck will pass over it, skin right over it to the base of the beak itself, and proceed in every respect as with small birds. If, however, the skin of the neck will not go over the head, then skin the neck as far toward the head as you possibly can (usually in such cases you can go no farther than the lower end of the axis or second cervical vertebra), and then cut it off.

The next step is to skin the head. Turn the skin right side out, make a clean, straight cut from the top of the head straight down the back of the neck for a sufficient distance to allow the remaining cervical vertebræ to be drawn up through the opening. It is now a very simple matter to skin the head and clean the skull.

The wing of a large bird contains, between the elbow and the so-called "shoulder-joint" (carpus), quite a quantity of flesh lying underneath and between the radius and ulna. Whatever you do with the wing, never cut the ends of the secondaries loose from the ulna. In spacing and adjusting those secondaries nature has done something which, to save your life, you cannot do as well, and if you meddle with her work some one will be sorry. Slit open the skin all along the under side of this long joint of the wing, cut out all the flesh from around the radius and ulna, and poison the interior thoroughly. Put in a little filling of tow or cotton, and sew up the opening. Even in small birds, except the smallest ones, it is an excellent plan to slit open the wing on the under side and put some dry poison on the flesh, without stopping to sew up the cut. Clean out the flesh and the oil sac from the root of the tail, and poison that part so thoroughly that any insect who ever dares to think once of harboring there will instantly drop dead.

A bird like a large heron, with long legs, or an eagle with very thick legs, should always have the tendons removed from the legs in order to facilitate curing, and for the mutual benefit of both specimen and taxidermist when, a little later, the two meet in the laboratory and engage in a hand-to-hand struggle for supremacy. To accomplish this, cut a slit lengthwise in the ball of the foot where its rests upon the ground. Cut off the tendons where they branch and attach to the toes, seize the end of each large tendon with your pliers and pull it forcibly out of the leg. You can do this with a fresh bird in about five minutes, whereas in a dry skin that has been relaxed it will take you much longer. This removes a fine subject for decomposition, and also leaves the space necessary for the leg wire when the specimen is mounted. After having removed the tendon I always give the legs a coat of rather thin arsenical soap, both to cure them and protect them from insects. Another excellent plan is to lay all such long legs in a pan of salt-and-alum bath solution for a few hours to thoroughly cure them.

If there is a layer of fat adhering to the skin, it must be scraped off and absorbed with corn meal, and scraped again until it is all off. A layer of fat spoils a skin more quickly and more effectually than any novice can be expected to believe until he sees for himself, in some of his finest ducks and brants, just how it is done. If a skin is worth saving at all, it is worth preserving properly. Grease left on a skin "burns" it.

In making up a skin having a long, slender neck like that of swan, goose, heron, or crane, it is an excellent plan (when possible) to take a stout wire, as long as the entire neck and body, wrap a little tow or cotton rags around it to partly form a false neck, and insert it in the skin. This will often save a neck from being completely broken in two. Fill the body of the skin with excelsior, tow, cotton, or crumpled paper, which, in distant jungles, far from civilization, is an excellent thing. In case of need, you may fill with dry leaves, dead grass, in fact almost anything except wool, hair, or other animal products. Do not fill the body out to more than two-thirds its natural size, unless you have abundant storage-room, and transportation facilities. If filled out full size, large bird skins fill up boxes and drawers wonderfully fast, and generally it is best to flatten such skins a little.

[a]Fig. 18.]—How to Shape a Heron Skin.

Large bird skins should always be sewn up. The head must be properly filled out, and if cut open at the back, that also should have a few stitches, but not too many, for obvious reasons. In laying out a large skin, if the neck be long, bend it around to one side as the specimen lies before you on its back, and lay it on the side of the body along the edge of the wing. If the legs are long, they, too, must be bent up so that the feet lie upon the body. The accompanying figure, from a specimen prepared by Mr. William Palmer, shows just how a great blue heron should be done. The wings must be carefully placed, the plumage dressed and nicely adjusted, and the finished skin pinned up in a wide strip of thin cotton-cloth, or anything else you please, to keep it in perfect shape until it dries.

Of course, a large skin requires plenty of air while it is drying, and several days' time besides. If such specimens are packed and shipped before they are dry, mould and destruction will be their portion, and the collector will do well to flee from the wrath to come. In shipping bird skins in the East Indies and similar climates, it is customary to solder them up, air tight, in tin-lined boxes. Dr. W.J. Holland advises me, however, that dry wooden boxes are good enough if they are tight, and are first painted over on the inside with melted crystals of carbolic acid.

Special and Exceptional Cases.—Having fully considered the various principles involved in making ordinary bird skins, it is now necessary to note the exceptional cases, and state how each is to be disposed of. It is my desire to equip the beginner, as far as possible, against every emergency that is likely to arise in ornithological collecting. For convenience we will take a few of the avian orders, in their natural sequence, beginning with the lowest.

The Struthiones: Ostriches, Emus, and Cassowaries.—These great birds are prime favorites with the showmen, and many a fine specimen often falls most unexpectedly into the hands of an astonished "local taxidermist," to the ultimate enrichment of some museum. Happy is he to whom falls a beautiful, glossy, brown-black cassowary, with head and neck of rich purple, and red and yellow, and what-not—truly a wonderful bird, and not too large. A full grown African ostrich is an avian colossus, and his enormous size makes him quite a serious matter.

With these great birds it is best to open the skin of each leg from the lower end of the tibia all the way down to the foot, in order to entirely remove the tendons. Detach the skin from the bone all the way round, and cure it with arsenical soap and a little alum. The leg should be cut open on the inside, well back, where the seam will be most out of sight. After having removed a skin, you will need to keep it soft, sometimes for several days, perhaps until you can make a suitable manikin, if it is a large ostrich. Cure the skin with arsenical soap and salt (protecting the feathers carefully meanwhile), and keep it wrapped up and away from the air until you are ready to put it on the manikin for the last time; then treat it with dry alum to make it dry and harden properly.

Order Sphenisci: The Penguins.—The penguin of the Antarctic seas is the king of fat birds, but such magnificent monsters as those brought home by the Challenger, and now in the British Museum, are worth a long trip to secure. Mr. Frederick Pearcy, who collected and preserved the specimens, assured me that it required two men to carry one, and that the removal of the grease from the skins was a dreadful task. Of the largest specimens, the huge legs and feet were cut off at the lower end of the tibiæ, and preserved in alcohol until they could be skinned and cleaned. Since it is probable that only a very few of my readers will ever visit the rainy, foggy, storm-beaten and God-forsaken land of the penguin, I will leave the question of grease removal to the paragraph relating to the Lamellirostres.

Longipennes: The Gulls, Albatrosses, etc.—The gulls, terns, and petrels are so beautiful in flight that they are often mounted with the wings fully spread, in flying attitudes. When a bird is to be mounted thus, the large wing-bones must not be broken, but simply disjointed and cut loose from the body at the shoulders. When it is possible to do so, an albatross should be mounted with wings, outspread, to reveal to the student their enormous length, and the disproportionate shortness of the primaries and secondaries. If all the albatrosses in a museum collection are mounted with closed wings, as they nearly always are, the average observer gains not the faintest conception of the form and size of the bird in motion—its normal condition.

Steganopodes: The Pelicans.—The great white pelican is one of the most satisfactory and even agreeable birds to mount that could possibly fall into the hands of an able-bodied taxidermist. If I ever adopt a shield and an assortment of devices with which to cover it, one of the latter shall be a figure of a huge white pelican rampant; for it was a bird of that species that gave me a start in taxidermy. It happened in this wise:

The year before I penetrated the walls of my Alma Mater, its venerable president sought to find among the students an (alleged) taxidermist, or at least the promise of one. He publicly offered the princely sum of $10 to any one who could come forward and mount a bird decently. The gauntlet thus recklessly thrown down no one could pick up that year, and by the year following, when I appeared upon the scene, it had grown cold. Like another Lochinvar, I "came late" for that offer. I had seen one bird skinned and mounted, and I knew I could do one like it. That was an old, rusty, second-hand crow. I petitioned to have a chance to "stuff birds," but it fell on deaf ears. I even went so far as to mount a squirrel, to show what I could do, and although it was a very fair specimen for that benighted period, it failed to win.

But one day some good genius sent a dead bird to the president, for the museum, and with it heaven sent my opportunity. Professor Bessey sent for me and said, "Now, young man, we are going to see how much you know about stuffing birds. We've got a specimen for you to try your hand on, and if you succeed in mounting it decently, you may possibly get an opportunity to work in the museum." I replied, "Show me the victim."

He took me to his room, and there, spread out upon the carpet, lay an enormous white pelican. His body was like a great downy pillow, his bill was as long as a fence-rail, with a great horny knot atop of it, and his huge yellow pouch would have held a whole school of mackerel, teachers and all. And what wings! They were full-grown angel's size, and as white and spotless as Gabriel's own. It seemed like sacrilege to touch them. And such feet! Enough of them would have covered the college campus. I had never before seen such a bird, even in my dreams. He really was larger than the maximum measurements given by Audubon for that species. Professor Bessey informed me that his name was Pelicanus erythrorhynchos. It was not quite so long as his bill, nor so rough, but it was pretty nearly.

With a pocket-knife, an old misfit pair of pliers, and a smooth, flat piece of steel that had once been a file, I skinned and mounted that bird, "in the highest style of the art," as the taxidermic business card always hath it. I have also faint recollections of a great wad of oakum made into a body, a thimbleful of arsenic, and a pair of eyes—merely this and nothing more. As I hope to live, I believe I could feed a live pelican as much arsenic as I put upon that great skin without even giving him the stomach-ache; but the bugs seemed to know that was my first effort, and they have never touched him. I mounted him as the Irishman played the fiddle at Donnybrook fair, neither by note nor by ear, but, "be jabers, by main strength," and posed and shaped him by Audubon's superb plate. He was pronounced an unqualified success. I shaped his future, and he shaped mine at the same time. When I saw him again, seven years later, he was every bit as good as new, and I was astonished to find how really good he was. He was the first bird I ever skinned or mounted, and a lucky bird he was for me. Had he been a dirty, greasy, old swan, think what a scrape I should have been in!

Lamellirostres: The Ducks, Geese, Swans (and Flamingoes).—There are but two points to be spoken of under this head. The first is that all the birds of this order must have their heads skinned through a slit at the back of the head. The other is in regard to cleaning.

All ducks, geese, and swans are very fat, even when they are poorest. Were they otherwise, they could not live on the water as they do. Nearly the whole body is enveloped in a firm, tenacious layer of fat, into which the ends of the body feathers run and take root, and bind the skin itself down so firmly that it really becomes a part of the fatty layer. To remove the skin, you must have a keen knife, and by hard labor slice through the fat as you go. As a general thing, it is slow and tedious work. When you begin, and all the way as you proceed, use plenty of plaster Paris or cornmeal to absorb the free oil, and keep it off the feathers.

After the skin is off the body, and before you turn it right side out, scrape the inside to get the oil off, absorb it with your absorbent material, and scrape it again and again until the grease is practically all off, and you have only the skin remaining. This takes work. There is no royal road to making good duck skins. If you think you can get along all right by overwhelming the grease on the skin with arsenic and alum, and venture to leave it half cleaned, you will pay the penalty later, and it will serve you right. You cannot cure grease with preservatives. You may fill a fat duck skin half full of arsenic, and yet the oil will ooze out through the skin on the other side, turning the feathers a dirty yellow color. The dermestes can eat every feather, and also the skin itself, from the outside, without getting a morsel of the arsenic. The fat simply acts as an impervious wall between the poison and the skin. Clean a duck skin thoroughly or else throw it away. It used to be a common thing to see duck skins with the breast feathers a solid mass of nasty yellow grease from the oil that had run out from the opening cut, but such specimens are becoming rare now.

If the feathers get soiled with grease, blood and dirt, wash the plumage with clean turpentine and a soft tooth-brush, apply an abundance of plaster Paris, rub it into the feathers, and immediately beat it out with a supple switch, or piece of stiff wire of proper size. If you have not these materials, wash the feathers with warm water and a little soap, and dry as best you can, according to what you have. Manipulate the feathers while they are drying and they will come out soft and fluffy as in life; but if left to dry without this, they will remain in a bedraggled, soaked, and stringy condition. This subject will be fully considered in a separate chapter (XXV.).

In making up the skin of a duck or goose, a piece of wire must be put into the neck, with the tow or other filling wrapped around it, or failing that, the neck filling must be wrapped around a small stick, the upper end of which is to be thrust forcibly into the skull. The head is large and heavy, and the neck is very small, so small that the skin will break in two if there is not a wire or stick run through the body and neck into the head to support the latter when the skin is being handled. The feet of all web-footed birds should be spread while drying.

Alectorides: The Cranes and Herodiones.—There is but little to add in regard to birds of either of these orders. The cranes require a slit in the skin at the back of the head, but the herons do not. The necks of the latter are very often filled too full in making up a skin, and the neck filling is often made round, whereas it should always be flat, like the actual neck of the heron or bittern. It is not necessary to remove the tendons from the legs of the small herons, ibises, etc., but the legs should always be bent up and the feet disposed of on the body. The feet and legs of all the above must be treated to a coat of thin arsenical soap, for the benefit of insect pests.

[CHAPTER VIII.]

COLLECTING REPTILES.

Ophidiæ: Serpents.—All the small and medium-sized serpents should be preserved entire in good, clean, ninety-five per cent alcohol, diluted with one-half its own bulk of water. If the spirits is not as strong as ninety-five per cent., then dilute with one-third water instead of one-half. There should be from two to four incisions made along the median line of the belly, each one a few inches in length, to make openings through which the spirits can reach the abdominal region. Give the specimen plenty of room until it is thoroughly penetrated with the alcohol.

Large serpents must be measured carefully, slit open underneath in a straight line from the vent up to within six or eight inches of the head, and completely skinned. A dry snake skin is about as good as none at all for mounting. I have seen many, but never yet knew of one being mounted well. By all means preserve all snake skins in spirits, as described above, or in the salt-and-alum bath. By making a head of cork it is quite easy to take both the complete skin and skeleton of a large serpent. If the head is to be mounted with the mouth open, an extra skull must be procured.

Lacertilia: The Lizards.—As with serpents, the small ones should be opened underneath and preserved entire in spirits, while the large ones, if alcohol is scarce, may be skinned in the field, and the skins only put into the spirit-tank for preservation. In putting up specimens entire, the abdominal opening must be large enough fully to insure the entrance of the liquid into the abdominal cavity, or otherwise the decay of the intestines may cause the epidermis to slip from the outside.

Crocodilia: The Crocodiles and Alligators.—A word in regard to shooting saurians. Go prepared to hunt and kill whatever specimens you require, for the chances are you will not get any save what are brought to bag with your own trusty (or rusty) rifle. To kill a crocodile, proceed as follows: Find where he is in the habit of coming out on the bank for his daily sun-bath; then, at precisely the right time,

"Come where my love lies dreaming."

Sneak up as close to him as you can, get a position so that you can attack him broadside on, and post a couple of natives close by, primed beforehand with instructions to rush forward and grab the scaly monster by the tail as soon as you fire. Estimate the distance carefully, wipe the perspiration out of your eyes, aim at the neck-bone, or the vertebral column anywhere in front of the shoulders, and let drive. If the reptile's body lies still and his jaws fly wide open, run for him like a quarter horse, for you have hit his spine, and he is your meat if you only get to him in time to lay hold of his tail. Take your rifle along, for you might need it again, particularly if the crocodile is more than ten feet long. If he requires a coup de grâce, give him another bullet in one of his cervical vertebrae, and the subsequent proceedings will interest him no more.

It is quite a task to skin a ten-foot saurian properly, and to preserve the skin so successfully that none of the scales will slip off when the time comes for the skin to be softened and stuffed. My method, which I have practised successfully with the skins of eleven species of crocodiles and alligators, is as follows: For the sake of science in general, and the taxidermist in particular, measure the crocodile carefully and record the dimensions. Divide the skin along the under side, following the median line from the throat to the tip of the tail, in one long, straight cut. Beginning at the end of each middle toe, divide the skin along the bottom of the foot and the under side of the leg, up to the point where the leg joins the body, but no farther. Then begin at the edges of the first cut, and skin as far down the sides of the body as possible. When the legs are reached, detach them from the body at hip and shoulder without cutting the skin, and continue on round the body until the backbone is reached and the skin entirely detached. Sever the head from the neck at the first cervical vertebra without cutting the skin. Skin out the tongue and remove the flesh from the palatal apertures and various cavities of the head. Skin each leg by turning the skin wrong side out until the toes are reached. Leave all the bones of each leg attached to each other and to the skin itself at the toes, but cut away the flesh carefully, the same as in skeletonizing. Remove from the skin as much as possible of the flesh which will be found adhering to it. When the skin is thoroughly clean, immerse it in a strong bath of salt and water, and allow it to remain twenty-four to thirty hours. Then take it out, rub the inside and the leg bones thoroughly with strong arsenical soap, after which apply powdered alum liberally over the inner surface, so that not a single spot is missed. Then hang the skin up by the head (no danger of stretching in this case), and allow it to dry in the wind and shade. When almost hard and stiff, take it down and fold it up as carefully as if it were a Sunday coat, so that it can be packed in a box of ordinary dimensions.

Of course small crocodiles, and the skins of larger ones not exceeding six feet in length, can best be preserved in alcohol, as already described for lizards. Full instructions for "roughing out" skeletons will be found in Chapter XXXVII. I will only add to this paragraph the suggestion that of all the objects that a collector can gather, nothing so well repays in every way the time and labor spent upon them as a few large, well-made, and sufficiently hideous skins of crocodilians. They are at once big, ugly, awe-inspiring, and marketable. The general public is very fond of horrible animals from far-distant countries, and I always gave it crocodiles galore.

Chelonia: Turtles.—Go where you will in the warm regions of the earth, you are almost certain to find representatives of this order. In the tropics the species are very numerous, highly interesting, and often of commercial value. Many a time your own hunger will be appeased by a tender steak of green turtle or loggerhead, or a terrapin stew, or a "soft-shell" fried in batter, or a peck of terrapin eggs dug out of the sand, fresh and otherwise. The rare and hideous mata-mata of South America will make you a good meal, and afterward bring you in $25 in hard cash. The hawksbill, with the valuable "tortoise shell" upon his back, is "a thing of beauty" and "a joy forever," price, $15. Wherever you go collecting in the tropics or sub-tropics, turtles are your lawful prey.

How to Kill a Turtle.—Mr. Lucas says the best way is to do it with chloroform, by tying a saturated cloth over the victim's head, and keeping it there until death ensues. This is undoubtedly the most merciful way, but somehow I never had the chloroform to spare. My plan was to do the killing in a short, sharp, and decisive onslaught with the knife. With a small, sharp saw (a dissecting saw with an adjustable back, for the small specimens), saw through the bridge which unites the shell of the back (carapax) with that of the under surface (plastron) at B, B (Fig. 19); then, with the quickest of work, divide the skin around the plastron, as shown by the dotted line A, A, A, A; with half a dozen quick strokes of the knife detach the plastron from the flesh of the body, and lift it up until the interior of the body is exposed. Except for the sawing through the shell, the rest is but the work of a moment. Now pierce the heart instantly, and cut the neck in two, which ends all pain at once. The only merit of this method of killing is that the victim is disposed of and put beyond the power of pain in about three or four minutes. Very often it is better to make an incision on the dotted line shown immediately behind the foreleg, and through this pierce the heart and lungs.

[a]Fig. 19.]—How to Open a Turtle.

The dotted lines in the figure show all the opening cuts that are necessary. The skin is left attached to the front of the plastron for apparent reasons, but the plastron is turned up and over the head to completely expose the interior. In the case of a sea-turtle, which has the front limbs developed as broad, flat flippers instead of feet, the opening cut must extend on up the leg, quite out to the extremity of the flipper.

The animal's legs, tail, and neck are now skinned precisely as those of a mammal would be, with the exception that each of these members is detached from the body and pulled inward in order to turn the skin wrong side out. Of course all flesh is to be removed from the animal, precisely as with a mammal, and unless the skeleton is to be preserved, the shoulder girdles and pelvis may be cut out with the flesh and thrown away.

Having removed all flesh from the entire subject, wash it clean, and if it is not to be preserved in alcohol apply arsenical soap and alum to the skin, putting some of the latter on the outside as well as inside, and make up the skin otherwise as directed for dry skins of ordinary mammals. The neck, legs, and tail should have the right quantity of filling to prevent their shrinking and shrivelling up to the point of unsightliness. Remember that the specimen may remain as you preserve it, and be studied for years as a dry skin.

The box turtles are so constructed that when they desire to retire from the world nothing whatever save the hard shell remains exposed. They cannot be opened up as described above. It is necessary to meet their wants by simply sawing a big rectangular section out of the plastron, leaving only a rim remaining, and through the hole thus made the animal can be skinned, and also stuffed when the time comes.

[CHAPTER IX.]

COLLECTING FISHES.

As to the methods of procuring your fish, I have very little to say. In all my collecting I have never yet seen the time when it did not pay far better to buy fish specimens of professional fishermen than to turn fisherman myself. With an enterprising set of fishermen, much may be done by offering to purchase the strange and curious species that are often unfit for food, and are usually thrown away. Be first in the fish-market when the day's catch is being landed; be on hand persistently, in season and out of season, and by so doing you will have the first chance to buy the handsome sharks, rays, rhinobati, etc., before they are ruthlessly cut up and sold piecemeal. Mask your enthusiasm; learn to dissemble, and then you will not need to pay more than the ruling market prices, even for the specimens which are of the highest scientific value. In Ceylon I once bought a remarkable shark-ray for three shillings, which I sold again, almost immediately, for $75; but it almost cost me a fit of apoplexy to control my feelings while the bargain was being made. I wanted to give three cheers for Rhamphobatis ancylostomus!

Field Notes on Fishes.—Colors.—In collecting and preserving fishes, happy is he who can sketch with a pencil, and thrice happy is he to whom the gods have given the ability to paint in water-colors. If you are blessed with this ability, the correct and imperative thing to do in collecting is to make a good outline sketch of each species, and color it carefully from a perfectly fresh specimen. Then, when the glorious colors of the living fish vanish like magic in the alcohol, or in the air, as the case may be, there is your permanent and indisputable record, a thing of great value to science until a better one is produced. At the National Museum it has for years been the policy of Dr. Goode to have an accurate water-color drawing made by Mr. Schindler of every species of fish, cetacean, and reptile received. The result is a series of exhibition casts in which every detail of color is reproduced with admirable accuracy and life likeness. In preserving your fresh specimens remember that, no matter what you may do, the colors will fade, and the more delicate tints will disappear entirely.

Labels.—For alcoholics the best thing to use is a small bit of pure sheet tin, or else sheet lead, with a number stamped upon it. The next best thing is a parchment tag having the necessary data written upon it with a lead pencil, which is much more permanent in alcohol than any ink.

Scientific Facts.—Of the many facts the novice should try to ascertain regarding each species, the following are the most important: All the local names; degree of abundance; time when most abundant; whether it is a permanent resident or is migratory; if migratory, the facts relating thereto; its habits; the depth and character of bottom preferred; food; what fishes prey upon them; value as food or for other purposes.

Methods of Preservation.—In the field, fishes may be collected and preserved in four different ways, according to circumstances, as follows: 1. Preserved entire in spirits. 2. As skins, preserved in spirits. 3. As skins preserved in brine. 4. As rough skeletons, either preserved dry or in spirits.

For the purposes of scientific study and close investigation, the most valuable fish specimens are those which have been preserved entire in alcohol, or some equally efficient preservative solution. Good alcoholic specimens rank next in scientific value to fishes fresh from their native element. Ordinarily, however, the collector's resources are limited, and it is necessary for him to preserve only the skins of the large and bulky specimens.

Tanks for Alcoholics.—For years past the National Museum and United States Fish Commission have used square, box-like tanks, made of copper and lined with tin, each tank having a large round hole in its top, as large as the width of the top will allow, and which is closed tightly by means of a screw cover. These are known as "Agassiz tanks," for the reason that the design originated with Professor Louis Agassiz. They are light, not very costly, easily managed, and are about as nearly perfect for their purpose as anything can be in this world. They are made of three sizes, to hold four, eight, or sixteen gallons. To protect them during shipment a strong pine chest is used, which is provided with wrought-iron handles, hinged cover, hasp, and padlock. The chests are made to contain one sixteen-gallon tank, two of eight gallons, and either three or four four-gallon tanks. The tanks used by the National Museum are made by W.S. Barker, Seventh and D Streets, S.W., Washington, at the following prices, exclusive of the chests; sixteen-gallon tank, $16.50; eight-gallon, $10; four-gallon, $4.25; pine chests, complete, $3 each.

[a]Fig. 20.]—Agassiz Tank, for Alcoholics.

If Agassiz tanks are not obtainable, the next best and the cheapest course is to have some large round cans made of galvanized iron, with tops that can be soldered on when the time comes to ship specimens. Wooden kegs are not of much use in collecting, but both kegs and barrels are good enough to use in transporting collections. Many a time I have helped myself out of a difficulty afield by falling back upon the immortal American kerosene can, holding five square gallons, and which goes to the uttermost parts of the earth.

Glass Jars.—In the field I have never found any other sort of a glass jar half as useful and safe as a common Mason fruit jar, varying in size from pint to half-gallon. They are infinitely superior to glass-stoppered jars, and far less liable to be broken.

Preserving Fishes Entire in Spirits.—Having taken all the notes on a fresh specimen that you desire, the next thing is to wash it thoroughly. But "before washing the fish," says Dr. T. H. Bean, "look it over for external parasites; examine the gills and the inside of the mouth carefully, as these are favorite situations. These parasites often furnish a clue to the migration of the fish; remove them if they can be taken off entire; if not, let them remain, and call attention to their presence in your shipping notes. Preserve the parasites in vials or bottles, and provide them with labels, stating from what fish they came, and in what situation they were found."

Many fishes when taken from the water have the entire body and gills covered with a coat of persistent mucus that can be removed only by determined effort. If you have any alum at hand, you can in a moment make up a pint or quart of alum water, which will cut the mucus instantly, and clear it off. Use a stiff brush—a large tooth-brush is the best thing—in cleaning off this mucus, and do not forget to cleanse the gills thoroughly.

Open the abdominal region of every fish by making a generous cut from the vent straight forward toward the ventral fins. Usually the length of the opening should be equal to about one-fifth of the entire length of the fish. If the fish be a large one, it has always been my practice to open the fleshy interior still farther by working through this cut, and detaching the skin from the flesh as far up each side as possible. This gives the spirits immediate access to the entire mass of flesh, and the result is very speedy and perfect preservation without any change whatever in the form or weight of the specimen.

Dr. Bean always directs that the viscera be preserved, to assist in identification, even though it becomes necessary to remove them from large fishes and preserve them in separate jars. When there is no particular reason for their preservation, it is a great advantage to remove them and throw them away. They are—unless of scientific value—an abominable nuisance, and do more to spoil good alcohol than all the rest of the fish.

Fishes that have begun to decompose, and have become offensive, yet are too valuable to throw away, may be disinfected by washing them inside and out with a moderately weak solution of pure carbolic acid and water, or with a solution made by dissolving a tablespoonful of chloride of soda in a pint of water.

For years a very common formula for preservative alcohol has been ninety-five per cent alcohol diluted with one-third of its bulk of water, or, in other words, three parts of alcohol and one of water. If there is any fault to be found with this solution, it is that it is stronger than is really necessary. I have preserved barrels of alcoholic specimens in a solution composed of two parts of proof spirits and one part water, and have never lost a specimen except through leakage. This solution is strong enough to stand considerable deterioration without the loss of its contents.

I have never attempted to collect quantities of alcoholics without an alcoholometer in constant use. This little instrument costs but a trifle, and affords the only reliable means for testing the strength of alcohol. Its use enables the collector to exercise economy in the use of his spirits, and get the maximum benefit from it. Therefore I say, buy an alcoholometer at all hazards, and carry it and a suitable test-glass with your outfit. Test the spirits on your specimens frequently, and you will then run no risks of loss.

Keep a receptacle to use as a receiving and curing tank, into which all fresh specimens are placed, with abundant room for each to undergo the curing process. Every animal contains in its body a heavy percentage of water, which must be, in great measure, replaced by the spirits before the flesh can be preserved from decay. Into the first bath a great quantity of blood and abdominal fluids will be soaked out from the specimen, and it is bound to lose strength rapidly, and also become foul. As long as it remains clean enough to use, keep up its strength by the addition of pure spirits, and in it immerse all specimens until they are thoroughly cured. Give them plenty of room at first, and keep them from settling down to the bottom by putting there a bunch of excelsior, tow, or cloth. While the spirits in a can may be strong enough on top to preserve a specimen, at the bottom, where the animal impurities settle, it may be so weak that anything lying in it would soon spoil. Often the tail of a fish which hangs upright in a jar will spoil while the remainder will be preserved.

After specimens have remained in the receiving-tank for from two to four days, according to size, put them in another receptacle in clean, fresh spirits, still allowing them plenty of room. Finally, when ready to pack up and make a shipment home, wrap each fish separately in a piece of thin, white cotton cloth, just large enough to cover it well, dip it in clean spirits, and without any tying or pinning of the cloths, lay the fishes in your barrel like sardines in a box, as closely as they will lie without being squeezed. Fill the receptacle full of fishes, head it up, and then pour into it all the clean spirits it will hold.

In order to proceed with the second and third methods of preserving fish specimens, it now becomes necessary to describe a process.

How to Skin a Fish.—Of course, no one aspiring to become a collector of fishes will remain in ignorance of the names of the different fins. And, more than that, before he can prepare even the rough skeleton of a fish he must know what its bony structure is like. On the whole, there is a good deal to be learned about methods in collecting fishes, and as a beginning we must learn how to skin a scale fish. The methods with cartilaginous fishes will be considered later.

The principles with all scale fishes are precisely the same, the only difference being in the greater amount of cold steel and energy required for such great, hulking brutes as the jewfish, and the magnificent tarpon. For convenience we will take a specimen about a foot in length; for example, a striped bass, a pike, or a red snapper.

As is the case with quadrupeds, the left side of a mounted fish is always expected to be "the show side." Lay the specimen upon its left side, start at the vent with a stout pair of sharp-pointed scissors, and divide the skin in a perfectly straight line along the median line of the belly toward the head, stopping the cut when you approach close to the narrow, tongue-like point which terminates between the lower angles of the gill openings. Now reverse the fish, begin again at the vent, and divide the skin with a clean cut through the scales, in a line parallel with the base of the anal fin, and about half an inch from where the scales meet the fin rays. This is really a cut along the side of the fish, as low down as possible, made necessary by reason of the anal fin. Continue this cut straight back to the tail, as shown in the dotted line g-h in Plate IV.

PLATE IV.[a]How to Cut Open and Mount a Fish.]

You will find that the ventral fins are joined together in the flesh by a strong bony arch, called the pubis, and this must be divided through the middle so as to entirely separate the fins. The anal fin-rays must now be cut loose from the interior rays (called interhæmal spines), which are really their bony foundation. The ventral fins must also be cut loose from the pubic bones at the point where they are articulated. Now take the cut edge of the fish skin between the left thumb and forefinger, and with the cartilage-knife carefully cut the skin free from the flesh. Be careful not to disturb the white layer of color pigment which is spread like a silver lining of feeble tin-foil over the inside of the skin. This is what gives the fish its silvery color, and if skinned off or scraped away the skin will look like colorless parchment. Whatever you do, do not disturb that color lining. Proceed with the skinning until the skin has been detached from the entire upper side of the fish. This brings you to where the dorsal and caudal fins are inserted.[6]

Now turn the fish over, and proceed as before, as far as you can go. You presently reach the caudal fin, which must be cut loose from the end of the vertebral column as far back in the skin as possible. When this has been done, the skin and the fleshy body still hang together by the attachment of the rays of the dorsal fin to the interhæmal spines. Cut these apart with the scissors, from back to front, close up to the skin, which brings you to where the vertebral column joins the skull. You will make very short work of that, which frees the fleshy body from the skull. Now scrape away the surplus flesh from the inside of the skin, wash it thoroughly, remove the gills (if they are not to be studied), and lay the skin flat upon its side in your tank of alcohol.

By thus preserving the skins of fishes, instead of whole specimens, a great number of really large specimens can be preserved in a small quantity of alcohol, for at the last they can be packed together, heads and tails, precisely like sardines.

Skinning Cartilaginous Fishes.—Sharks, Rays, etc.—The skinning of a shark or saw-fish calls for no special instructions in addition to the foregoing, except that the long, narrow, pointed tail requires to be slit open along the right side of its upper lobe for a considerable distance. Remember the principle that wherever there is flesh, a way must be made so that it can be removed, or at least reached from the inside by the preservative. Of the skull, nothing is to be left attached to the skin

except the jaws. The skeleton is wholly of cartilage instead of bone, and is easily cut through.

The extremely flat, circular-bodied ray, also with a cartilaginous skeleton, must be opened on the underside by two cross cuts at right angles to each other, one extending from mouth to tail, and the other from side to side. The fin rays are very long stems of cartilage, set so closely together as to form a solid sheet of cartilage extending from the thoracic skeleton out to the extremities of the fins, which taper out to nothing. The thoracic skeleton gives shape to the body of the ray, particularly the back, and it must be left in place, with the skin of the back attached to it. Cut through the fin rays where they join the body, and this will enable you to skin down each side of the fish until you get so near the outer edge there is no longer any flesh. Stop at that point, cut the flesh away from the fin rays, and cut away as much of the fin rays themselves as you please.

Clear out all the flesh and preserve the skin in a very strong solution of salt and water (what is known to chemists as a "saturated solution"), or in alcohol if you have it to spare.

Preparing Rough Skeletons.—In about seven cases out of ten, it is a far easier and more simple matter to rough out, clean, and mount the complete skeleton of a fish than the uninitiated would naturally suppose. A few fishes, such as the shad, have more bones than the law allows, and the preparation of a complete skeleton thus becomes a practical impossibility. Fortunately, however, most fishes are more reasonable in the matter of bones, and to these we direct our efforts.

First and foremost, study the bony structure of a typical scale fish, learn what its principal parts are, and how they are articulated. Learn how the ribs lie, and how a row of slender, riblike bones called appendices, or epipleural spines, are attached to the true ribs, and at their outer extremities touch the inside of the skin along the lateral line of the fish. If you will take a good-sized perch as your first subject, you will not be troubled with any osteological extras, and the process will be as follows:

Lay the perch upon its side, and with a sharp scalpel cut away the skin from the whole of the exposed side. Remove all the viscera. By careful examination, ascertain the exact location of the ribs, and particularly the row of epipleural spines attached at the upper ends of the former. With a broad, flat bone-scraper, or your knife-blade if you have nothing better, begin at the lateral line of the fish, and work toward the top of the back, taking the flesh away in chunks as you go. In a very short time the vertebræ and the interhæmal spines are exposed, and with a narrower bone-scraper the flesh is easily removed from them.

Now turn the fish around, and with great care cut and scrape the flesh away from the ribs and the epipleural spines. Do not on any account detach the latter from the former, but at this stage leave them attached to each other by a thin strip of flesh for their better protection.

Do not separate the ventral fins by cutting through the pubic arch, but with your small, curve-ended bone-scraper remove the flesh from the angular recesses of these bones, and leave the anterior end of the pubic arch attached to the coracoid. Next, pick out the flesh from around the base of the pectoral fin, remove the eye from its socket, and whatever flesh the skull contains. Thus does the bony structure of one entire side stand revealed. The gills are of course to remain in place, as the skeleton would not be complete without them.

There is but one thing more to add. In treating the other side of the fish in a precisely similar manner, care must be taken to not disturb the attachment of the interneural and interhæmal spines which join the dorsal and anal fin rays to the processes of the vertebral column.

Having thus denuded the fish of its flesh, lay the skeleton in a pan of water, and with a moderately soft tooth-brush, or nailbrush, brush it carefully to wash away all blood and mucus. If the bones are full of blood (which is very rarely the case), the skeleton must be soaked in clear water for an hour or two, or longer if necessary, to soak out the blood, so that it will not dry in the bones and permanently disfigure them.

Rough skeletons of fishes may be preserved in alcohol, but for many reasons it is much the best to dry them. Poison them with dry arsenic; do not put upon them either salt, arsenical soap, or alum, hang each one up by the head, and see that it dries in good shape. The pectoral fins should lie well down upon the ribs for mutual protection.

[CHAPTER X.]

COLLECTING MARINE INVERTEBRATES.

Sponges.—A live sponge is simply a vast colony of protozoan animals, each member of which lives an independent existence, but all are at the same time mutually dependent upon each other. The sponge of commerce, and the "cleaned" sponge of the museum collection is, like a branch of coral, merely the skeleton of the living aggregation. A live sponge is a dark colored, heavy, tough gelatinous mass, cold and clammy to handle, quickly offensive if left in the open air, and utterly useless until "cleaned," or rid of its mass of animal matter. The skeleton of a sponge may be horny, like that of the useful sponges of commerce; silicious, like the marvellously beautiful framework of the famous glass sponge of the Philippine Islands (Euplectella); or calcareous, like the curious little Grantia, which looks like a miniature bouquet-holder, with a frill of spines around its open end.

Owing to the extreme scarcity of sponge collections, very few persons know how great a variety of forms, and what really remarkable forms, exist no farther from home than the waters that wash the coast of our own beloved Florida. I once had the pleasure of collecting no fewer than sixteen distinct species on the beach between Biscayne Bay and New River Inlet, some of them of remarkable form, and all of them nicely cleaned for me by old Ocean.

Of course, I searched for sponges, and found many a fine specimen buried almost out of sight in the sand,—but what glorious fun it was, to be sure! There I obtained the large, coarse "basket sponge" (Hirvina campana), a hollow, inverted cone, often capable of holding a pailful of water; the remarkable finger sponge (Tuba vaginalis), which forms clusters of upright, hollow cylinders; a large cylindrical sponge of a rich brown color, and beautiful wiry texture, called Verongia fistularis; and sponges that were like trees, like interlocked deer antlers, and what not.

Professor H.A. Ward's last catalogue of invertebrates enumerated forty-three species of sponges that were on hand when the list went to press. Of these, the largest specimen was a huge Neptune's cup (Paterion neptuni), four feet in height, and shaped like a gigantic goblet, which came from the neighborhood of Singapore.

Therefore, I say, when on the seashore, be on the lookout for sponges. If you can find them on the beach ready cleaned and dried for you, so much the better; but if you get them alive, the soft animal matter must be macerated and washed away, just as you would macerate the flesh from a large skeleton. Soak them in fresh water for a short time to macerate the soft matter, then wash it out in salt water, and keep this up until the sponge is at last clean.

Corals.—The bleached white coral cluster of the cabinet is, like the sponge, only the skeleton of its former self. When it was forcibly torn from its foothold at the bottom of the sea it was covered with living coral polyps, which gave it the color which is peculiarly its own. Some species, notably Madrepores, when first taken from the water look like colored glass. The main branches are of a yellowish-brown tint, shading toward the tips to the most delicate and beautiful bluish purple. There is no way to preserve these colors, because they are due entirely to the presence of the living polyps. When those delicate organisms die, as die they must, the color vanishes, and if not cleaned and bleached, the coral assumes a dead, smoky brown appearance, suggestive of dust and dirt.

Therefore it is best to clean and bleach your corals at once. This requires a little time, but the process is "so simple a child can use it." Small specimens can be cleaned quickly by washing them in dilute muriatic acid, and afterward in clear water to keep the acid from going too far, and then placing them out in the sun to bleach. Large specimens cannot always be treated in this way, and the best plan for wholesale operations is to place the coral on the ground, in a sunny situation, and dash water upon it daily until the soft animal matter has been washed away, and the wind and sun combined have bleached the specimens to snowy whiteness.

As a general thing, the natives who live within reach of coral groves are in the habit of gathering it in quantity, cleaning it very successfully, and offering it for sale at prices that defy competition on the part of any scientific collector whose time is worth more than fifty cents a day. The best thing the collector can do is to get acquainted with the native fishermen and boatmen, treat them well and pay fairly, and then, if there is anything in the sea that his collectorship wants, it will soon be forthcoming. Thus, instead of the growth of the collection depending upon one or two men, there will be from ten to twenty local experts directly interested in it. I once came to a complete deadlock with my interpreter and three boatmen on the translation of the word "coral." They were Singhalese and Tamils, and coral was worse than Sanskrit to them. Finally, as a last despairing effort, I took a pencil and began to make a sketch of a madrepore. The crowd watched its progress in breathless silence until very soon one appreciative auditor shouted triumphantly, "Koki kalli!" The crowd joyfully echoed it, the mystery was solved, and in five minutes more we were afloat and on our way to seek

"The treasures of the sea, In the mystic groves of coral Where her spirit wanders free."

The packing and shipping of branching corals is a serious matter. I have tried every way I could think of, and have seen others do the same, and am firmly convinced that no matter how the large branching clusters are packed, they are bound to get somewhat broken anyway! Of course, if you care to travel with them and see to their handling at every transfer, that is another thing, but who can do that? The trouble is that the individual branches are so very heavy for the diameter of the stems next the base, a sudden jar causes them to snap in two by their own weight. But then corals are very beautiful, very interesting, and no matter though they are troublesome, we must have them.

In packing brain coral, and other compact forms without branches, the principal thing is to wrap them in sufficient soft materials that their surfaces cannot get rubbed, for that would ruin them. Do not pack a large chunk of brain coral without putting a partition across the box to hold it firmly in its own place, no matter how the box is turned. In Ceylon I once took the trouble to divide a large box into twelve separate compartments for the reception of that number of coral specimens.

In packing branching coral, a good quantity of soft, elastic, fibrous material like coir, cotton, tow, oakum, or something similar, is necessary. From first to last, take whatever precautions are necessary to keep your corals from getting filled with dirt and litter. Each cluster must lie on a thick pad of your fibrous material. In order to get downward pressure upon it, to hold it in place without breaking the branches, take some soft paper or cotton cloth, roll up a long, cylindrical pad of cotton or something else, and thrust it far down into the largest opening between the branches, with one end projecting above the top of the cluster to receive and transmit pressure from above. This principle, if properly carried out, will enable the collector to so firmly fix even the most fragile cluster that it is fitted to withstand pretty rough treatment in transit without serious damage.

Star-fishes.—When star-fishes are first taken from the water their arms are pliant, but after a bath in alcohol they become perfectly rigid. If left to themselves when first put into spirits, the smaller and more spider-like species will almost tie their arms into double bow-knots, and insist on keeping them so forever after. Since the way to cure a star-fish is to soak it in alcohol for from six to twenty-four hours, according to size, and then dry it flat and in good shape, it becomes necessary to pin the small ones firmly in shape upon thin boards before immersing them, and then they will "stay put." See to it that while in the spirits all your star-fishes, large and small, cure in proper shape, flat, and with each arm flat and extended in the right direction. After removal from the spirits, pin out all those not already fastened upon boards, and then let them dry. I have never found it necessary to poison the spirits, for the reason that dermestes and other insects seem to respect a dried star-fish for his own sake.

Echini.—In all tropic seas the collector is liable to find echinoderms, "sea-urchins," "sea-eggs," or " sea-porcupines." These creatures are usually spherical in shape, with the mouth underneath, and the internal structure of the animal is covered with a stout, calcareous shell of uniform thickness, which is set all over on the outside with a mass of protecting spines, usually fine and very sharp-pointed, but sometimes thick and blunt. In life the spines are movable, and by means of them the creature walks, or clings to its native rocks most tenaciously.

The best time to seek echini is at low tide, and the best places are those where the shore line is composed of rough rocks, scooped out here and there into shallow pools. Take with you a large basket, a large screw-driver, if you have one, or failing that, a knife with a long, stout blade. Wear old clothes, unless you can afford to spoil new ones. When the tide is low you can wade around in the now peaceful pools, and find the echini in the sheltered crevices, clinging to the bottom, or the perpendicular sides of the rocks, but always under water.

To dislodge them, the knife-point or the edge of the screw-driver must be neatly and skilfully worked under the victim far enough to enable you, with the exertion of some force and a steady pull, to pry him loose from the rock, whereupon he becomes your lawful prey. Next comes the cleaning process. With a small knife, detach the skin of the mouth parts from the edge of the round hole underneath, in the middle of which the mouth is situated, and remove all fluid and fleshy matter from the interior of the shell. That done, wash it out thoroughly. The bony jaws, or "Aristotle's lantern," may also be drawn out through the hole and thrown away—unless you happen to be collecting for some one who is studying the anatomy of echini, in which case he must speak for himself.

Having cleaned your sea-urchin, put it in clean alcohol (same strength as for fishes) and let it soak for about twenty-four hours. This will prevent the spines from gently dropping off, like leaves in autumn, when you proceed to dry the specimen. After soaking in spirits, put the specimens out in a shady place to dry. It is a curious fact that all the echini of Ceylon and Malayana lose their spines unless soaked in spirits before drying, whereas those of the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, and the West Indies can be dried without soaking, and the spines will not fall off.

Shells. "Living" and "Dead" Specimens.—The first thing that the amateur needs to learn about a shell is that it may be living or dead. As a general thing, what is technically called a "dead" shell is worthless in a cabinet. A live shell is one which has been collected with a living mollusc in it, and then duly cleaned, preserving all its beautiful colors. A dead shell is one in which the occupant died a natural death, has lain and bleached in the sunshine until its colors are entirely gone, and its form also ruined by the weather. Therefore I say, leave dead shells alone, unless it be that you are making an exhaustive collection of the species in a given locality, when a dead shell which is identifiable is as good a record as a living one. Where a shell is actually devoid of color, a dead shell is as good as a living one, provided it is collected before its edges or its angles have been rounded by exposure to the sun and rain. Many a living shell has an epidermis, the same as an animal, while a dead shell has none.

When shells are obtainable, who can resist the impulse to gather them? The man, woman, or child who is proof against the seductive powers of the beautiful and many-colored shells of the seashore "is fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils." Next to the pleasure of collecting shells one's self is that of witnessing the keen delight of children and ladies in gathering these beautiful treasures of the sea. If you have never yet had an opportunity to stroll along the smooth sands of an ocean beach at low tide, and gather your basketful of beautiful shells, curious sponges, bits of coral and coralline, while your soul is soothed by the rhythmic music of the surf, then I pity you. You have indeed yet something left to live for.

Hooker has divided the shell-bearing mollusca into three great groups—land, fresh-water, and marine—and the shell collector will do well to study each one separately.

Land Shells.—These are most abundant in the tropics, less so in the subtropical regions, and are rare elsewhere. They are seldom found where moisture is not abundant. In the tropics they are to be collected all the year round, but in the temperate zone it is best to collect them in the autumn, when they are fully grown. It is impossible, without devoting too much space to this subject, to give more than a general idea of the situations in which land shells are found. Some species are to be looked for on trees and bushes; others on rocks and stone walls; others again on the ground, and others again on the blades or in the roots of grass. In the tropics it is particularly desirable to watch for the beautiful land snails, which are almost strictly arboreal in their habits. They are to be found on the trunks and leaves of palms, the banana, myrtle, orange, and scores of other trees and shrubs.

Fresh-Water Shells which inhabit clear and shallow water are easily gathered with a stout hand-net. Where the water is murky, or so deep that the bottom cannot be seen, it is necessary to have an instrument like an iron-toothed rake, with the teeth set closely together, to be used as a sort of clam-dredge, raking the bottom and gathering up the mussels. In our own country the amateur collector will doubtless be surprised at the number of species of Unio which will repay the labors of a diligent collector.

Marine Shells.—If you would have one of the jolliest picnics in the world, don a suit of old clothes, equip yourself with a stout basket, a screw-driver with a long handle, and a case-knife with a thin blade,

"Hang up thy lute and hie thee to the sea."

Go before the tide is at its lowest ebb, and search in the vicinity of the largest boulders,[** bowlders] under ledges of rock, under loose stones, in shallow pools, in bunches of sea-weed, in fact everywhere along the shore. In these various places you will find cowries, ormers (Haliotis), chitons, limpets, and more others than I could name in an hour.

When wading in shallow water it is well to look out for the pestiferous sting-ray, and not step on one unawares, lest you find its caudal spine driven through your foot like a poisoned arrow. But, fortunately, they seldom trouble the collector. With the limpets, chitons, and other small shell-fish, you must work the point of your case-knife under them, and with it gradually detach them from the rock. Where such prey is plentiful, the collecting of it is grand fun, I assure you.

There are many bivalves which burrow or bury in the mud or sand, which must be dug out with a stick or trowel, while other species, still more enterprising, bore into wooden piles, and even into rocks! These, of course, can be collected only with the aid of a hatchet, or chisel, or stone-hammer, as the case may be. If you are on the Florida coast you will do well to search over the coral reefs and the mud flats at low tide. On the latter you will find conch-shells, pinnas, and numerous other species. I once made a very successful search for pinnas by wading around barefooted on a sandy flat on which the receding tide had left the water but little over a foot in depth. These shells were always found standing up in the sand, at bay, with their sharp edge up. By going barefooted as I did, you find the shells by stepping on them and cutting your feet, which is to be accomplished, however, without hurting the thin edge of the shell. A cut foot will heal up, but a broken shell never will.

Cleaning Shells.[7]—In gathering shells, particularly the marine species, many of them will be found covered with a thick, leathery, and persistent epidermis, and many others will be so buried under rough, limy accretions that their own fathers would scarcely recognize them. However beautiful such shells may be when cleaned, it is no child's play to clean them and get them ready for the cabinet. To any one willing to learn, the processes are really very simple; and what manual labor under the sun could be more interesting to a lover of natural history?

Removing the Animal.—With a large shell, such as a conch, the first step is to remove the living animal. In some cases I have accomplished this by hooking a fish-hook into the head of the animal and hanging it up so that the weight of the shell constantly pulling down on the animal would cause it to gradually relax and draw out. An excellent plan is to place the shell for a few days in fresh water and macerate the animal sufficiently that it may be drawn out. Fortunately the great majority of molluscs are very small, and it is possible to prepare them for

the cabinet without the necessity of removing the animal. Mr. Greegor's plan is to soak the shell in alcohol for a few days, to completely preserve the animal, and then dry it thoroughly to expel all the water from it. When that is done, the final step is to pour into the shell, through a rubber tube, a little thick varnish, or hot beeswax mixed with a little vaseline to make it flow readily, and thus cover the dried-up remains of the animal with an impervious coating which does away with all odors which might otherwise arise from it. This part of the process, be it understood, is to be attended to after the cleaning and polishing has been done.

Removing the Epidermis.—The epidermis is so tough and horny, and sticks so tightly to the shell that tools cannot remove it successfully and it must be done chemically. Make a strong solution of chloride of lime and water, by putting into a jar one-fourth its bulk of chloride of lime, two-fourths water, and leaving the remaining fourth part of the space for the froth that will rise. Soak shells in this pasty solution for a short time, and it will eat the epidermis off.

Removing Limy Accretions.—The bulk of all these thick, irregular coatings must be removed with steel tools—file, scraper, knife, sand-paper, or hammer—to suit each individual case. The tool that Mr. Greegor most relies upon is a small and very light hammer, made especially for him, which is shaped somewhat like a square-headed tack-hammer, with the pointed end drawn out to a blunt cutting edge, like the edge of a cold chisel. With this cutting edge a skilful hand can peck the lime or coral incrustations off a shell very neatly, and without injury to the surface of the specimen. Acid will not remove the thick, limy deposits, and they must be cleaned off by mechanical means.

After the bulk of the limy deposits have been removed by means of tools, the shell usually has a dull, lustreless appearance, and appears to require something that will remove the remaining particles of lime, impart to it a permanent gloss, and bring out its beautiful colors. Fortunately there is a way to do this to perfection, which consists in dipping the shell in a weak solution of muriatic acid and water, boiling hot. The strength of this solution must vary according to the nature of the specimen. For thick and strong shells, which by their solid character you are assured cannot be damaged by a maximum of acid, put 3 parts of muriatic acid in 10 parts water. For thin and delicate specimens, use 1 part acid to 10 of water, varying the amount of acid from 1 part to 3, as your experience will soon teach you is most desirable. Put this solution in a porcelain kettle, bring it to a boil, and then with a pair of wooden tongs or forceps dip each shell into it and hold it there for a second or more, as may be necessary. On removing it, wash it in clear water and dry it, and if its appearance is not satisfactory dip it again.

For very delicate shells, having a thin surface color, such as the Cypreas and Olivias, or such shells as have very delicate sculpture, the weaker solution is best. When it is desired to cut more on one part of a shell than another, the acid may be applied with a brush, finishing with a quick dip. Never allow any of the acid solution to remain on the shell, or it will eat into it and dull the lustre. For fine work, dry each specimen with a towel.

Shells which have on their exterior a great deal of horny or organic matter, such as Haliotis, Ostrea, Lingula, and a few others, work badly in acid, and require to be brushed constantly while cutting, to remove the organic matter, for the reason that the acid acts only on the lime of the shell.

Chloride of lime and muriatic acid are both very volatile, and when not in use should be kept in tightly closed vessels.

[CHAPTER XI.]

COLLECTING BIRDS' EGGS AND NESTS.

Identification.—Positive and unmistakable identification of the builder and occupant of a nest is quite as imperative on the collector as the gathering of the nest and eggs themselves. There must be no guess-work on this point, for eggs without a pedigree are often valueless. If an oological expert is within reach—one who can tell to a certainty the species of doubtful eggs, or if the eggs themselves are so characteristic and unique in their shape, size, and markings as to render their certain identification an easy matter, then is it safe to take home a "find" without finding the owner.

It is only the fledgling oologist who needs to be told that in all cases of doubt regarding the identity (i.e., the exact species) of a nest-builder, the only proper course is to collect the bird as well as the nest and eggs. This may often involve long watching, but it relieves the result from all uncertainty. No collector should think of going afield in quest of nests and eggs without taking his gun along. In South America, the only way in which I could get possession of the wonderful pensile nest of the crested cacique was by cutting off the limb to which it hung, with a rifle bullet.

In all timbered regions the collector must have a pair of good climbing-irons, such as telegraph linemen use, to enable him to climb with ease the nest-bearing trees that would otherwise defy him. It was before the days of climbing-irons that aspiring Sir Walter Raleigh wrote for the fair eyes of Queen Elizabeth,

"Fain would I climb, but that I fear to fall,"

to which his august mistress promptly responded with a piece of wisdom which every young oologist will do well to paste in his hat:

"If thy mind fail thee, do not climb at all!"

Very good and serviceable climbing-irons can be obtained of Mr. Frank B. Webster, 409 Washington Street, Boston, for $3.50 per pair. Mr. Webster also keeps, at his very complete naturalist's supply depot, nearly every requisite that an oologist or taxidermist requires, except one thing that is indispensable in hunting and lofty tree-climbing,—nerve. Every collector or taxidermist should send Mr. Webster ten cents for a copy of his illustrated catalogue, which of itself is probably the finest of its kind ever issued, and in which all naturalist's and oologist's supplies are pictured, described, and priced. The following are the principal articles needed to make up a proper outfit for an egg collector, and Mr. Webster's prices thereon:

Collecting-box, 75 cents.Pasteboard trays, for eggs, per dozen, 12
Egg drills, six sizes, 15 cents to $1.50.cents.
Calipers, for use in measuring, 60 cents.Pocket-case (leather), complete, with drills,
Embryo hooks, 25 cents.blower, hooks, scissors, and forceps,
Embryo scissors, 25 cents to $1.50.$5.00.
Egg measures, 75 cents to $1.00.Climbing-irons, per pair, $3.50.

Collecting Nests.—Our boys pay too much attention to collecting eggs, and not half enough to nests. To the average observer who takes an interest in perusing the pages of Nature's story-book, a fine collection of bird's nests is a joy forever. It is ever ready to unfold chapter after chapter of bird lore, tales of wonderful intelligence and divine ingenuity in adapting means to ends, and stories galore of difficulties surmounted by the cunningest little architects in the world. Notice, if you please, the bewildering variety of materials employed in the construction of these bird-dwellings, great and small. Why, even the human architects of our own time are completely surpassed by the Baltimore oriole, the marsh wren, and the humming-bird.

There is food for thought and cause for admiration in a really good collection of bird's nests. To me there is much more of interest in any nest than in the eggs it contains. The latter is a plain and simple product of nature, to which the bird is merely an interested party to circumstances beyond its own control. The former is an exhibit of the instinct, intelligence, reasoning powers, industry, and mechanical and artistic skill of a living creature of a high order. The nest is what the bird makes it, and it often tells quite a story. Boys, let us give eggs and skins a rest, and make a fine collection of nests, in situ, as the rockologists say. We can do this after the nestlings have flown, if you like, without stealing any eggs or shedding any innocent blood. After the young have tumbled out, the nest is a back number, and becomes your lawful prey. Take it, and enjoy it, without remorse over blood that you haven't shed.

[a]Fig. 21.]—Bird Nest, in situ.

The most interesting and valuable nests are those that are collected in situ, or, in other words, in the particular crotch, or bunch of grass, or bush in which the bird placed it. Anything that will show just where a nest was placed by its builder adds immensely to its interest, and increases its scientific value. The accompanying illustration of such a nest in Captain Bendire's collection (Fig. 21), may be taken as an example of how nests of a certain class can be collected and displayed. The section of the sapling was sawn squarely off a few inches below the nest, and screwed (from below) upon a highly polished ebonized pedestal. In drawing this specimen the label was removed in order that no portion of the principal object should be concealed, but Captain Bendire's system of labelling is fully shown in another figure.

The possibilities in collecting and displaying nests in situ are almost endless. Indeed, so far as I have observed, this is a new and very attractive field for the collector, for although I have visited a great many large museums, and in both the New and the Old World have seen many ornithological collections, I have never yet seen a collection of birds' nests which represented a tithe of the possibilities in that direction. Every oologist should have in his library a copy of Rev. J.G. Wood's charming book, "Homes without Hands," which portrays many of the wonders of bird architecture.

[a]Fig. 22.]—Wire Standard for Nests.

In collecting nests one must go prepared to saw off branches, to cut sections of grassy earth, to gather up big tufts of grass, and transport all these to some safe destination. Very often it will be necessary to protect a nest by filling its cavity with some soft material, and then with fine thread or wire to wrap it securely to the limb on which it is placed. Or again, it may be necessary to remove a nest temporarily from its resting place, wrap it thoroughly, and transport it separately to the museum, to be put in its place later on.

Most naked nests, i.e., those that have been plucked from their resting-place, require to be wrapped to keep them from gradually falling to pieces. This may be done with fine thread of the same color as the outside materials of the nest, or, what Captain Bendire uses and recommends as being better, the finest kind of wire which, in large cities, can be bought, neatly made up on spools, at five to ten cents a spool. The wire or thread is wound on quite as one would wind thread on a ball, except that the wire must never be allowed to cross the cavity of the nest, which would at once make it conspicuous. Put on only enough winding to hold the nest well together, and distribute it so that the wire will not be noticed when the nest is placed on exhibition.

For the display of naked nests, Captain Bendire uses a very simple but ingenious little standard made of four wires twisted together so as to form an upright stem, a horizontal platform of the right size, with four perpendicular standards to receive and hold the nest. These standards are easily bent to conform to the shape of the nest, and if the upper ends project above the nest they are snipped off with a pair of cutting pliers. The illustration on page 93 (Fig. 22) shows the exact character of the wire standard, and Fig. 23 shows it in use, supporting a naked nest. Captain Bendire's method of labelling his nests is also shown in full. It is to be noted that the locality of the specimen exhibited, and the name of the collector, appears in full upon the label—two features which should never be omitted on a specimen that is of sufficient value to occupy a place in a museum. Nevertheless, by less careful curators both these statements are frequently omitted from labels.

[a]Fig. 23.]—Nest on Wire Standard, with Labels.

Collecting Eggs.—In connection with a collection of nests, each nest holding its own lawful and original contents, a good collection of birds' eggs possesses much interest and beauty.

In collecting and preserving eggs, the most difficult feature of all is to remove the embryos successfully. In the days when I diligently collected eggs in many lands, it seemed to me that out of every dozen eggs I gathered, about thirteen contained from one to two embryos each! But there are ways in which this difficulty can be successfully overcome.

The full set of eggs laid by a bird for one brood is called a "clutch," and in collecting it is of scientific importance that whole sets should be collected and always kept separate, and the number of eggs in each set taken should be recorded.

Eggs are always blown through a small, round hole in the middle of one side, preferably in each instance on the poorest side of the egg, if it has one. Of course, the smaller the egg, the smaller the drill must be, and the greater the care in handling. It is often a good plan to pierce the shell with a needle in order to furnish the drill a point of attack. If an egg is cracked, or happens to be of such value that it must be saved at all hazards, reinforce it by pasting narrow strips of goldbeater's skin or court-plaster across the line of fracture.

Having drilled the hole, insert the end of a small wire, having a small portion of the end bent at a right angle, and if the embryo has not begun to develop, or happens to be quite small and soft, twirl the wire rapidly between your thumb and finger, to thoroughly break up the contents of the egg. Having accomplished this, insert the tip of your blow-pipe (the best in the world consists of a tube of glass bent at a right angle and terminating in a fine point, with the large end set in the end of a rubber bulb, which saves the mouth and lungs all trouble) and with gentle and gradual pressure blow in air. Hold the egg with the hole downward, of course, so that the contents will run out freely. Go slowly and carefully, even coaxingly, for too great pressure will burst any ordinary egg in two parts very neatly. If the embryo is small and disposed to be accommodating, help it out by inserting the point of your smallest scissors, snipping it to pieces, and then drawing out the parts, one by one, with your smallest forceps.

Having emptied the egg of its contents, introduce some clear water by way of the blow-pipe, wash out the inside thoroughly, and in case the egg is in a clean, healthy condition, it can now be laid away on cotton or cornmeal, with the hole downward, to drain and get dry. Observe this point, however. The thin, membranous lining of an egg, which the point of the drill pierces but cannot cut away, often closes together inside the hole so closely as to retain, for some time, whatever water might chance to remain. For this reason it was my custom to cut away this membrane around the edges of the hole. Captain Bendire remarks that "eggs that have been thoroughly cleaned will retain their original color much better, and insects or mice are not so apt to trouble them."

Removing Large Embryos.—It often happens that eggs are taken quite near the hatching point, containing embryos so lusty in size, and so "very fillin'" that their successful ejectment seems impossible. Nil desperandum. The way out of the difficulty is through a very small hole. On this point I appealed to the highest authority, Captain Bendire, and he kindly gave me, in general substance, the following directions:

In the first place, make up your mind to go slow, and take plenty of time. If the egg is valuable and the embryo is large, reinforce the egg all over with strips of goldbeater's skin or court-plaster. Having drilled a fairly large hole, then insert the head of a needle in a small stick for a handle, and with the point pierce the embryo in twenty or thirty places. The egg sac, which is always present, should be taken out, if possible with the forceps, to give room for water.

Having cleared out the egg as far as possible, fill it up with water to assist in the decomposition of the embryo. Cover the bottom of a box with a layer of cornmeal or sawdust; lay the egg on this, with the hole upward (still full of water), cover the box, and place it under a stove or in any other place warm enough to hasten the process of decomposition. Work at the egg a little about every alternate day, but without hurrying matters, and keep this process in operation until the embryo softens, falls to pieces, and is ready to be drawn out piecemeal. In removing a large embryo, try to get hold of the tip of the mandible with the small forceps, so that it can be drawn out, point foremost, without splitting the shell.

Eggs that emit an offensive odor after they have been blown need to be rinsed out with carbolic acid and water, or some equally good disinfectant.

It is, of course, to be understood that eggs must be clean on the outside before they are fit for the cabinet. Usually soap and warm water is sufficient to remove dirt and stains, but occasionally a particularly hard case calls for the addition of a little washing soda in the water. The last washing, however, should always be in clear water.

Inasmuch as a label cannot be attached to an egg, the data necessary to give the egg a respectable position in the oological world must be written on the under side of the egg itself, either in lead pencil or India ink, which is capable of being erased, at will.

The following are the data that should be recorded on every egg collected and kept:

1. Name of species, or number in A.O.U. check list, if North American.

2. Collector's number, which belongs to every egg of a given set, and refers to his catalogue and field notes.

3. Number of eggs in the set, or "clutch."

4. Date in full.

In packing eggs for shipment, a great many small boxes of wood or tin are absolutely essential, and in these the eggs must be carefully packed in cotton, each one separated from the rest of the world by a layer of cotton. It is an excellent plan to wrap every large egg separately in cotton, as oranges are wrapped in papers. Captain Bendire recommends the making of divisions, one for each egg, with strips of pasteboard, like the crates in which egg producers pack eggs for shipment to market. This gives each egg a compartment by itself, with a bit of soft cotton cloth at top and bottom. If produce dealers can afford to take such care of eggs worth only thirty cents per dozen, surely oologists can do the same when they are within the pale of civilization, and can get the materials.

At the National Museum the duplicate eggs are stored in small, rectangular, shallow pasteboard trays, or half boxes, each of which has its bottom covered very neatly and exactly with a section of cotton wadding, which gives a soft, springy cushion for the eggs to lie on without the undesirable fluffy looseness of ordinary cotton batting.