Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1912-09-13

Vail WAOAu SpOut oil uOuF OF SO.
There was Helmslund for instance.
His line is birds-sea-birds although,
as far as that goes, anything wild and
unknown attracts Helmslund l dare
say you never heard of Helmslund.
You would soon enough, though, if
you undertook to collect rare birds as
hobby, Helmslund is indispensable
| to scores of collectors in this country
and Europe.
l met him one Sunday afternoon at
the house Of friend who possesses
a really remarkable collection of
| North American birds.
odd sort of fellow-Helmslund, -
our host later remarked I've known
him several years, now, and he's just
getting to the point where he gives
me sketchy account of the main in
cidents of interest in his trips"
What trips?" l asked.
after BIRDS replied my host.
That's Helmslund's work He gets
birds, not for the feather people-he
would regard that as sacrilege-but
| for collectors like, myself He goes
everywhere to get them / don't sup
| pose there's country he hasn't been
to in search of some particular spe-
cimen"
And that was how l happened to
hear the story of Helmslund's battle
| for life on the wrathy waters Of Lake
Kibushka, far up by the Arctic circle
| In the grim desolation of the Siberian
| steppes. 1t had happened the sum
mer before, on trip he had taken to
secure some specimens Of the rosy
gull for a European collector
With single companion and a cou-
| pie OF dog-teams, he was working
around the country, paying especial at
| tention to the marshy tracts bordering
| several large lakes, which are the hab-
itat of various species of water fowl.
There is probably no more desolate
| country in the world than this portion
of the steppes.
HelmSlund soon found that the rosy
gulls had deserted the shores of Lake
| Kibushka, and he determined to cross
| the lake, which was about twenty
miles wide, and try his luck in the
! country beyond. Sc he secured a craft
which he called a dingey and which
was large enough to hold his compan.
ion and three Of the dogs, besides
himself, and the party set out early
| in the morning. They propelled the
craft by padding, and it was slow
work. At first, everything went well.
| Thon q hricl hroo1o cpronr nm a0i
| tating the surface of the lake until the
waves became as large as those of the
! open sea. To add to the confusion,
the dogs became frightened and start
ed to quarrel among themselves.
Before they realized the danger, the
| boat had capsized and the two men
and three dogs were struggling in the
water Helmslund kept his wits about
him and helped his companion to swim
| to the overturned dingey. The dogs
| had already clustered about it and
were fighting desperately in the wa
| ter to climb on the bottom, but Helms
| lund pushed through them ruthlessly
and helped the other man to get a
seat, before he followed him. Luckily,
| he had retained possession of his pad
die and he used it to beat off the dogs,
crazy with fear as they felt the stead
lily increasing weight of their heavy
| water-Soaked fur. Snarling fiercely,
the beasts attacked the boat again
and again, swapping at the mems legs
and leaping out of the water in wild
| attempts to seize their threats.
Early in the Afternoon, Helmslund' s
companion, tainted and dropped off.
| My friend said that the tears stood in
/ the little mans eyes as he told of this
occurrence He told it quite simply,
as he told the whole story, indeed
without any straining for effect It
was only by direct questioning that
my friend discovered that Helmslund
had fallen off the boat himself in his
efforts to save the other man, who
! had sunk like a stone When Helms
lunG gained the boat a second time
he was utterly exhausted and barely
able to crawl on to it's bottom He
had lost his paddle and had no means
CT directing his progress or even of
determining in which direction he was
going
Fortunately for him, the wind was
on-shore, and late in the afternoon
he drifted within sight of land. The
sight gave him renewed energy to
STRIP off his shirt and use it to signal
to village of natives.
| Whenever / smell the sicl1ly-sweet
scent of South American orchids a
vision rises before me of another one
of the Ska fever-racked specter
whom l met toiling down the gang
plank of a fruit-steamer from La
Guayra. His name was Grayson, and
he belonged to that legion of reck-
less adventures, the orchid hunters.
! Grayon had gone to Venezuela
some months before, with vague de-
termination to strike into the jungle
/ country in the direction of the GUAM