The miners all did their own cooking, but this was no great task, as when you had mentioned slapjacks, beans, bacon, and coffee, you were at the bottom of the bill of fare. A few men, however, in every camp, developed a decided genius in the art culinary and concocted some wonderful dishes, the raw material at hand considered.
About three-fourths of the prospecting miners who came over from California, packed their traps on the backs of donkeys, and, driving these before them, boldly, if not swiftly, scaled the Sierras. These donkeys became a great nuisance about the several camps. All became thieves of the most accomplished type. They would steal flour, sugar, bacon, beans, and everything eatable about the camp. They would even devour gunny sacks in which bacon had been packed, old woollen shirts and almost everything else but the picks and shovels. The donkeys would be seen demurely grazing on the flats and on the hillsides when the miners left camp in the morning to go out prospecting, but all the time had one eye upon every movement that was made. Hardly were the miners out of sight ere the donkeys were in the camp, with heads in the tents devouring all within reach. When the miners returned the donkeys were all out picking about on the hillsides, as calmly as though nothing had happened; but the swearing heard in camp, as the work of the cunning beasts came to light, would have furnished any ordinary bull-driver a stock of oaths that he could not exhaust in six months.
One of these donkeys—too confiding—was caught in the act. Many of the miners used a kind of flour, called “self-rising.” There was mixed with it when it was ground all of the ingredients used in the manufacture of yeast powders. All the miner had to do in making bread from this flour was to add the proper quantity of water and mix it, when it “came up” beautifully. The donkey in question had struck a sack of this flour and had eaten all he could hold of it. He then went down to a spring, near the camp, and drank a quantity of water. When we came home that evening Mr. Donkey was still at the spring. The self-rising principle in the flour had done its work. The beast was round as an apple and his legs stood out like those of a carpenter’s bench. He was very dead. Here was one of the thieves. Cunning as he had been, he was caught at last, and with “wool in his teeth.”
A queer genius thus described the donkey, called by everybody in that region, “The Washoe Canary”:
SOME ACCOUNT OF YE WASHOE CANARY.
Let it be proclaimed at the outset that ye Washoe canary is not at all a bird: and, though hee hath voice in great volume, lykë unto that of a prima donna, yet is hee no sweet singer in Israel. Hee is none other than ye ungainly beaste known in other landes as ye jackass. You may many times observe ye Washoe canary strolling at hys leasure high up on the side of ye craggy hill and in ye declivous place, basking in ye picturesque and charging hys soul wyth ye majestic. Hee rolleth abroad hys poetic eye upon ye beauties of nature; yea, expandeth hys nostryls and drinketh in sublimity.
Hee looketh about hym upon ye rocks and ye sage-bushes; he beholdeth ye lizard basking in ye sun, and observeth ye gambols of ye horned toad. Straightway hys poetic imagination becometh heated, he feeleth ye spirit upon him; hee becometh puffed up with ye ardent intensity of hys elevated sensations; he braceth outwardly hys feet and poureth forth in long-drawn, triumphant gushes hys thunderous notes of rapture, the meanwhile wielding hys tayle up and down in the most wanton manner. Hys musick does not approach unto ye ravishing strains whyche descended through ye charmed mountain of Alfouran, and overflowed with melody the cell of the hermit Sanballad. It hath, in some parts, a quaver more of Chinese harmoniousness.
A wild, uneducated species of canary was thought worthy of mention in ye booke of Job, among the more note-worthy beasts and birds of ye earth; now, how much more worthy of description must be the cultivated and highly accomplished warbler whyche is ye subject of this briefe hystory? We shall presently see that hee will compare favorably with any fowl or beaste of whyche we have mention in ye goode booke. Of ye leviathan we read—“Who can come to him with a double bridle?” But, ah! who dare come to ye Washoe canary wythe a Spanish-bitted double bridle, two rope halters and a lasso? Again, of ye leviathan: “Lay thine hand upon hym, remember the battle, do no more.” Verily, I say of ye Washoe canary—lay thine hand upon hym, remember hys heeles, do no more.
Of ye behemoth it is said: “He moveth hys tayle lyke a cedar,” but when ye Washoe canary giveth vent to hys sudden inspiration in an impromptu vocal effort he moveth hys tayle like unto two cedars and one pump-handle.
Again, of ye behemoth—“He eateth grass as an ox.” Ye Washoe canary not only eateth grass, but in ye wild luxuriance of hys voluptuous fancy, and hys unbounded confidence in hys digestive capacity, rioteth in ye most reckless manner on sage-brush, prickly-pears, thorns and greasewood.