Cache Lake Country Page 13

  Another sign that may mean stormy weather is that earthy, rainy smell you sometimes notice before a storm, especially near a muddy pond or marshy place. Some of this odor, which at times is very unpleasant, is caused by marsh gas escaping from the mud at the bottom of the pond, where it is formed by rotting vegetation. This gas is most likely to bubble- up from the bottom when the atmospheric pressure is low as it usually is before a storm. When the pressure is high and the weather clear most of the gas is held at the bottom. When I was a boy I would row out on a pond and drive a pole into the bottom and touch a match to the gas when it came to the top in the form of bubbles. Makes quite a flare for a second or so. In addition to the gas, low atmospheric pressure has a tendency to keep odors close to the ground, which accounts for all kinds of strong woods scents, including the musky smell of animals just before a spell of bad weather.

  Everybody knows that old saying:

  A rainbow in the morning

  Is the shepherd’s warning;

  A rainbow at night

  Is the sailor’s delight.

  And it makes sense, for a morning rainbow is caused by the light of the rising sun striking wet clouds to the west, which may mean wet weather is heading your way. But a rainbow at night reverses the direction and the setting sun shines on clouds to the east, which if the prevailing wind in your section is from the west, should mean the stormy area has passed by.

  Thunderstorms don’t occur as often here as they do in some parts of the country, but when they do they are generally rip snorters, and if we are outdoors we think the wisest thing to do is to take to shelter. For myself, I don’t care to be out on an open lake in a canoe in a thunderstorm, for aside from the heavy seas that the squalls kick up, you may be a target for lightning. I have been told that it is not a good idea to stand in an open place, such as a beach or a clearing, where you are the highest thing above the ground for some distance around.

  If I am on the water I generally see it coming in time to get ashore, pull the canoe up into heavy cover and get under it. The Chief has a belief that you are safe under a big birch and he will make for one every time if there is a tree handy. I have seen some birches struck by lightning, but not nearly as many as I have pines, which the “fire from the sky,” as the Chief calls it, seems to head for. If I am up on a rocky ridge where there are not many trees I make sure to get down on the side of the slope and away from any high pinnacles of rock that might tempt the lightning. But it is all a gamble and the chances of getting struck by lightning are pretty small.

  I suppose you know that a mackerel sky, the kind with streaks or rippling lines like the markings on a mackerel, is pretty sure to mean that rain will come your way within a day’s time. And if the clouds stream out in thin, curving lines that folks call “mares’ tails” the rainstorm may be only half a day away and is likely to last quite a spell.

  We have a lot of herring gulls up here on our lakes and the Chief told me long ago that they are apt to stay on the water or sit on the rocks when a storm is coming. I asked about that and a weatherman told me it might be because it is harder for a bird to fly when the barometric pressure is low than during a high pressure spell. And sitting gulls and ducks just about always face the wind, and even when the breeze is so light it is hard to tell the direction, you can make sure by watching the water birds.

  When the Chief is planning a trip he is pretty sure to go out and look at the grass just before he turns in for the night. If there is no sign of dew he knows that clouds are making up and that the weather may take a wet turn. But if the night is calm and clear and the stars show, there is pretty sure to be a good dew and that with other signs is likely to mean a good day to come.

  To most people dew is just the moisture on the grass that soaks your feet when you go out early in the day. I have asked many a man how the dew forms and it is surprising how few know. Matter of fact, dew is moisture that comes from the air, the ground, and many plants, that condenses when the earth, rocks, trees, and plants begin to cool off by radiating or giving up the heat stored in them by the sun.

  A good example of how dew forms is to fill a glass with cold water on a warm day and pretty soon it begins to “sweat,” which is just the same way dew forms by warm moist air condensing on a cold object. Some plants seem to be able to throw off heat better than others. Those with soft, fuzzy leaves, such as the mullein plant, which is covered with a growth of very fine vegetable hairs, cools quickly and that is why you find a heavy coat of dew on the soft leaves.

  Most people do not know that a dewdrop is a little mirror and if you take the trouble to get up some morning and get down on your knees, whether you get wet or not, you will see on the crystal surface of each drop the image of nearby trees and even the clouds. Of course the picture is upside down, but that does not matter, and just to look at it is a sight worth getting up for.

  While you are at it, watch for the beautiful pattern of the dewdrops on cobwebs, and note the way the drops form on the horizontal threads of the spider’s web while the small vertical threads hold practically no dew. The dewdrops on a spider’s web remind me of pearls strung on a fine silk thread.

  I like to look at the dew forms on grass blades, too. These drops are particularly fine for reflecting images. The point of the blade of grass often holds one large drop with smaller ones arranged in perfect spacing along the sharp edge of the blade.

  June is one of our best months

  A flower garden on a morning when the dew is heavy gives up its fragrance in a way that you don’t seem to find at any other time, and if you keep your eyes open you may find a caterpillar sleeping on a stalk with every hair on its back topped by a tiny dewdrop.

  Getting back to weather signs, it has been my observation that when clouds are riding high in the sky, which means little moisture, the weather is pretty sure to be fine. And I might say that when clouds in general begin to disappear it is a sign the moisture is evaporating in dry air and that the weather will be good.

  In my part of the country the west wind is what we call the fair one. An easterly, especially in the fall and winter, may bring a change in the weather, as does a warm southerly wind with falling pressure. The north wind is our cool wind. Knowing what to expect from the winds and observing other signs make a combination for fairly accurate weather forecasting.

  You do not have to worry about much bad weather in June, for it is one of our best months and everything is so fresh and clean you like to be about in the woods as much as you can. The first of the Indian families that spend the summer on Snow Goose Lake has passed down in their birch canoe and I was glad to see them again. The mother was in the bow and just back of her, with a puppy in her arms, was a little girl called Nanugayna, which means “a small star.” Back near his father and working hard with a short paddle, was my friend, a boy named Neebeeshshay, which is Cree for “wind blown leaves.” But I never can say his name, so I just call him David, and he likes it. I will be going down to visit them when they get settled.

  The Moose Are in the Lakes

  THE BIG WOODS are hot and dry and quiet these days, for we have come to summer’s halfway mark and nature is pausing for .a rest on the portage from spring to fall. The rains are past, the growing season is over, and now come the dog days when Sirius, the Dog Star, rises and sets with the sun.

  The days of July are long and sunny and even the winds seem too lazy to blow, which gives all the insect pests a chance to make life miserable for man and beast. The moose and the deer are in the quiet coves and backwaters of the streams trying to escape the tormenting winged pests, which make them lose some of their fear of man. Paddling through the narrows from Snow Goose Lake with Chief Tibeash recently we came on seven moose up to their necks in the water and in no mood to get out of the way of our canoe. Not until the Chief whacked his cupped hands together to make a report like a gun did they plunge back toward shore where they watched us pass and quickly returned to the cool protection of the mud and water where j
uicy lily roots helped to make them forget their misery. No, sir, you are never quite sure of the mind of a moose in fly time. It is best to give him the right of way. The antlers of the deer and moose are out of the velvet stage now and are growing hard and strong.

  There’s no mistaking a July evening. Often the sun sets in a blaze of red and heat waves dance over the open rocky places. In the hush of twilight when the smoke rises in a slow, wavering streak you can hear the solemn croaking of the herons flying across to some night feeding place. The air is filled with the hum of the mosquitoes and you can hear the crazy laugh of a loon echoing in the hills.

  To be sure, July has its good points, but if anyone asked me which month could best be spared if summer had to be shortened, I think I would say July. The Indians call it Aupascen o Pesim, the Month When the Birds Cast Their Feathers. They are lucky to be molting during the hot days. This month brings the worst insect pests of the year, the common black fly, the mosquito, and the midge, or no-see-um, as the Indians call them. The black fly is small enough, but the midge is still smaller and you can’t see either one of them coming. You just feel them. There is one good thing about black flies: they go to bed early and as soon as the sun sets they disappear. But the midge and the mosquito are sleepless and bloodthirsty pests.

  Head nets are some help, but mosquito netting is too coarse to keep out the black flies. If you use a net it must be of cheesecloth, which is pretty hot around your head on a warm day. I rely on plenty of fly dope and my favorite is made of about three ounces of pine tar, three ounces of vaseline, and one ounce of citronella. Mix it thoroughly in a can set in boiling water, and then put it in small cans or wide-mouthed bottles. The vaseline, being thick, helps to keep the dope on your face longer than the liquid types and is easier to carry. One fellow I know adds a little camphor to make the dope that much more hateful to the insects. I have used bear grease in place of the vaseline in a pinch, but it is apt to get rancid and unpleasant in warm weather. Another dope I have used is made of pine tar with olive oil taking the place of vaseline, and one ounce of pennyroyal. Pine tar is too harsh for the skin of some folks, in which case the citronella and pennyroyal will have to do. When camphor is used it should be dissolved in grain alcohol before mixing with the rest of the ingredients.

  When you turn in at night you want to make sure that your tent is free of insects. There is only one thing to do about mosquitoes, and that is to chase them and swat them. Likely as not you will find the midges on the front of the tent down near the bottom while the black flies are at the top where it is lighter and warmer. But what is better than swatting is a D.D.T. bomb filled with a gas that clears a tent of insects in no time. To be sure it is just another piece of gear to carry, but one of those bombs is worth a lot in good sleep free of bugs that bite.

  You hear people say that at this time of year it is so hot that even the birds haven’t got enough energy to sing. Maybe there is a little truth in that, but the main reason they are quiet is that all the excitement of the mating season and nest building is over. I suspect, too, that while the young ones are still inexperienced about keeping out of trouble the old folks are not anxious to let anyone know where the family is feeding. You hear them singing a little early in the morning or in the evening, but the fine rich songs of May and June are gone and as a matter of fact, you don’t see very much of the birds these days, for they keep to the shade of the deep woods and spend quite a lot of time close to the waterways.

  Although most of the tree swallows have raised their families, we still find a few nesting, sometimes in a knothole or in an abandoned woodpecker’s nest. Their nests are usually made of straw and feathers. Tree swallows do not depend entirely on insects for living, because they can also eat berries, which few other swallows like. On pleasant days you see them darting about in the warm air, especially toward evening, but if it cools off quickly they will suddenly disappear and won’t be seen again until the weather warms up. From what I have observed at such times they go into the woods or the hills where they are sheltered from cool air.

  We also see cedar waxwings—some call them cedar or cherry birds—nesting this month, and if you put out little shreds of cloth or string where they can find it you can be pretty sure that it will be woven into their nests. They also like the soft outer bark of grapevines and cedar trees and line their nests with very fine roots.

  Outside my window in the hush of the evening I can hear a tree cricket chirping. Its full name is the snowy tree cricket. Only the males chirp and one of the interesting things about them is that you can tell the temperature from their song. Just count the number of chirps per minute, subtract forty, divide the result by four, add fifty, and the result will be the temperature within a degree or so. If you don’t believe me, try it yourself and you will be convinced.

  Now is the season when you see a great many butterflies, and it is mighty interesting to walk through a grassy place in a clearing and watch them rise up and flutter away in the quiet air; and at night the moths come by the hundreds drawn by the light in the window.

  I wonder if you have ever noticed that the butterflies seem to dress to suit the season in which they fly? In the spring before the leaves come out and the woods are still drab and colorless, most of the butterflies are the darkwinged kind marked with some brown and black. Often you will find them when patches of snow are still on the ground. When the skunk cabbage sprouts and the timid violets show their flowers, you will see small blue butterflies, while later when the woods have put on the full bright dress of spring, the big swallow tails come with colors that gleam like brushed metal, and others with stripes and belts of bright colors flutter through the woods. In the clearings the little white and yellow butterflies appear, and all about the woods are the small ones with warm brown and black wings. When the summer sun is highest and all the blossoms are out you will notice that the butterflies flying then often show copper colors and spotted patterns with black and red to catch the eye and suggest that autumn is on the way. Then there are others with spots that look like polished silver on the lower side of the wings, while some show peacock’s eyes. The color of the moths usually suggests the darkness in which they fly, although you often see the little white and yellow butterflies fluttering at the lighted window.

  There is no greater pleasure than studying butterflies and the best way is to get yourself a book with accurately colored illustrations so that you can learn to know each one. You don’t have to go far to find butterflies, for some love the shady places where brooks flow quietly, and others the hillsides. The forest meadows where the wild flowers look to the sun are the favorite place of many.

  Two young fellows came through on a canoe trip and stopped by Hank’s while I was there one day, and as it was close to sundown we asked them to pitch their tent close by and spend the evening with us. Mighty nice boys they were, and interested in learning all they could about woodcraft, especially about handling a canoe. Seems they had quite a tussle getting up some of the streams and had forgotten to bring along any line for “tracking,” which is what we call hauling a canoe up fast water.

  What you do is hitch your rope on the forward or middle thwart and one fellow goes ashore and pulls the canoe up the stream while the other stays in and keeps her off rocks. If you hitch your rope to the bow ring the canoe is pulled toward the shore, which is wrong, but with the rope tied to a thwart the canoe will pull up stream fairly straight and sometimes the current will hold her out without any steering.

  Of course you can pole up a stream, too. We use a pole about twelve feet long with an iron spike in the end, but you want to be sure of your balance before you try that.

  The choice of method depends, of course, on the kind of stream you are in. Where the current is too swift for poling, tracking is the best way.

  These boys were surprised that the water in some of the lakes up here is so brown, and I told them how it gets that way from so much vegetation. Lumbering also turns water brawn. Maybe you know t
he old trick of clearing water when you have to take it from a murky lake by digging a hole back from the shore, maybe six to ten feet. A sandy beach is the best place and when you get down to the water level it filters through and the sand screens out most of the sediment. Bail out the hole several times and soon the water will come in almost clear. Mind you, filtering does not necessarily purify polluted water, which is something a fellow wants to be on the watch for. If you are in doubt the safe thing to do is to boil it. Another method is to put two drops—no more—of iodine to a gallon of water. That kills dangerous germs. If water has an unpleasant taste or smell, drop some charcoal from your fire into it while it is boiling. The charcoal will absorb the objectionable taste.

  One of the things I did this summer was to make myself a grass cutter, and I do not mind saying that I am just a mite proud of it. Up here we do not have lawn mowers and could not use them if we had, but just the same the grass in the clearing around the cabin has to be kept down. I took a metal hoop from an old flour barrel and bent it into a triangular shape and set it into a slot sawed in the end of a light dry spruce sapling, where it is held in place by nails driven through and clinched. I filed the bottom blade on both sides until it was very sharp. Then all I had to do was to walk along and swing it back and forth at my side, and down came the tall grass. It is much better than a sickle because I do not have to bend over. The lighter the metal the better because a sort of whipping motion gives best results. A nail keg hoop would be even better than one from a flour barrel, but I had none.