The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-05-29
THE FIELD OF SPORTS
A Canoe Trip Above WestbrOOk Last
Saturday.

Flooded Swamps-Poplar Logs-Singing
l;irds-The Bitter Bit, ora Drama in
Featlerdom.
The canoe was small, white canvas
affair, very long and narrow and buoyant
and graceful. 1t was covered at both ends,
with cock pit in the middle, large enough
for two, if the forward mans leg projected
under the deck in front and the rear pad
dler's legs extended on each side of his COM
panion. When the crew was aboard the YES
sci carried all she could hold. The luncS
basket was between the rear paddler's knees
and formed a support for he back board of
the forward paddler. The bottom of canoe
and such a back board, properly braced
against the end of the spine and the Shout
der-blades constitute an easy-chair of I'M
rivalled comfort, provided there is sufficient
experience in the use thereof.
Experience was also necessary in getting
aboard this craft. One should be careful to
step on the oak ribs otherwise one might
step through the canvas bottom. One
should step in the middle and slide down
into place as the bicycler mounts and starts
before unstable equilibrium has time to take
part in the transaction.
The canoe had a keel. 1t was fleet because
it was narrow. 1t did not drift or scale OF
slew with the wind or current because of the
keel. 1t went where it was pointed and it
went fast. 1t leaped at the touch of the
paddle as does the similar kind of horse at
the touch of the whip.
1t left Westbrook last Saturday afternoon
in that way. The crew had mounted and
sta inf i11cf he rid of tow
Gle do,-becauss they knew how. Other
wise they might have mounted, but they
wouldn't have started.
They sped away from the electric light
station. The touch of the paddles on the
water, the unconscious balancing of expert
enced muscles preserved their equilibrium
as securely and peacefully as is that of the
bicycler at full speed. To a novice the
canoe would be as unstable as bicycle. It
was fact, a bicycle among water vehicles.
A few hundred yards brought them to
boom, the bane of all river boatmen. If
there it a sufficiently small log in the boom,
it may be sunk by the weight of heavy
boat and passed over without difficulty.
There was a small log in this boom, and
the canoe made rush at it. 1t got half
way over and stuck. The forward man
reached his hands down deep in the water
on either side of the canoe Gt was narrow
you see) and got hold of that log and pulled
and pulled, and just as he could pull no
more, the keel slipped quickly las keels will
on a slippery log) and they were over in a
flash, and the log bobbed up again. 1t rolled
first one way, then the other. So did the
canoe. The log didn't tip over, neither did
the canoe. But apparently more difficulties
were to come. For an eighth of a mile just
above, the river was packed solid full of
small poplar logs for the great paper mill
below. But the river had risen a foot be-
cause of the rains of last week and over
flowed into the ice pond, just beyond the
right bank. The canoe entered at one
place, where there was more than an inch of
wter, and passed on into the flooded swamp
above the little pond. 1t was fine place
up therefor those inside canoe. There
were paths of water here and there among
the gardens of willows and alders and sedg-
es and bushes. Gorgeous red-winged black
birds futtere0 about, and whistled and
screamed and protested and said, Don't
you touch my nest; its right here hanging
to these old dead cat-o-nine tail stalks and
don't you touch it, Golden warblers fut-
tered and trilled amidst the golden willows
and said to the canoeists quietly, pleasant
ly and aristocratically, "We draw the color
line very sharply. We prefer the willows.
Theirs is the proper COLOR Tyrant fly
catchers dashed after the flying insects and
fought among themselves like tiger cats.
They're always fighting and screaming
about something these kingbirds.
But what is that noise ahead? Some
feathered sufferer is struggling to sing.
There are rich, sweet notes, gasps, signs
and loud cat-calls all in a jerky tumble.
The canoe glides ahead slowly, steadily :.
silently, and the sombre clad bird on the
maple sapling does not notice. 1t passes
under the sapling, and still Mr.. Catbird con-
tinues his effots to mimic the joyous, golden
notes of the golden oriole. He gets part
of it, and then that aggravating cats voice
of his protests against such perversion of
it's nature and spoils it ALL But Mr.. Cat
bird is as happy as any singer. And well
he may be. He gets a golden note out of
his dark throat occasionally, and that is
more than belongs to him, and no other bird