Voyage of The Paper Canoe [115]
a herd of deer, which, being bewildered by the glare of the lights, made no attempt to escape. Sticking their torches in the ground, the hunters stretched themselves flat upon the grass, to hide their forms from the animals they hoped to kill at their leisure. One of the men was stationed beneath the branches of a large tree; the other was a few yards distant.
The Panther's Leap (106K)
Before the preconcerted signal for discharging their rifles could be given, the sound of a heavy body falling to the ground, and an accompanying smothered shriek, startled the hunter who was farthest from the tree. Starting up in alarm, he flew to the assistance of his friend, whose prostrate form was covered by a large panther, which had pounced upon him from the overhanging limb of the great oak. It had been but the work of an instant for the powerful cougar to break with his strong jaws the neck of the poor backwoodsman.
In this rare case of a panther (Felis concolor) voluntarily attacking man, it will be noted by the student of natural history that the victim was lying upon the ground. Probably the animal would not have left his perch among the branches of the oak, where he was evidently waiting for the approach of the deer, if the upright form of the man had been seen. Go to a southern bayou, which is rarely, if ever, visited by man, and where its saurian inhabitants have never been annoyed by him, -- place your body in a recumbent position on the margin of the lagoon, and wait until some large alligator slowly rises to the surface of the water. He will eye you for a moment with evident curiosity, and will in some cases steadily approach you. When the monster reptile is within two or three rods of your position, rise slowly upon your feet to your full height, and the alligator of the southern states -- the A. Mississippiensis - will, in nine cases out of ten, retire with precipitation.
There are but few wild animals that will attack man willingly when face to face with him; they quail before his erect form. In every case of the animals of North America showing fight to man, which has been investigated by me, the beasts have had no opportunity to escape, or have had their young to defend, or have been wounded by the hunter.
It was nearly ten o'clock A. M. on Friday, March 26th, when our merry party left Old Town hammock. This day was to see the end of the voyage of the paper canoe, for my tiny craft was to arrive at the waters of the great southern sea before midnight. The wife and daughters of our host, like true women of the forest, offered no forebodings at the departure of the head of their household, but wished him, with cheerful looks, a pleasant voyage to the Gulf. The gulf port of Cedar Keys is but a few miles from the mouth of the Suwanee River. The railroad which terminates at Cedar Keys would, with its connection with other routes, carry the members of our party to their several homes.
The bright day animated our spirits, as we swept swiftly down the river. The party in the shad-boat, now called "Adventurer," rowed merrily on with song and laughter, while I made an attempt to examine more closely the character of the water-moccasin -- the Trigono cephaluspiscivorus of Lacepede, -- which I had more cause to fear than the alligators of the river. The water-moccasin is about two feet in length, and has a circumference of five or six inches. The tail possesses a horny point about half an inch in length, which is harmless, though the Crackers and negroes stoutly affirm that when it strikes a tree the tree withers and dies, and when it enters the flesh of a man he is poisoned unto death. The color of the reptile is a dirty brown. Never found far from water, it is common in the swamps, and is the terror of the rice-field negroes. The bite of the water-moccasin is exceedingly venomous, and it is considered more poisonous than that of the rattlesnake, which warns man of his approach by sounding his rattle.
The moccasin does not, like the rattlesnake, wait to be attacked, but assumes the
The Panther's Leap (106K)
Before the preconcerted signal for discharging their rifles could be given, the sound of a heavy body falling to the ground, and an accompanying smothered shriek, startled the hunter who was farthest from the tree. Starting up in alarm, he flew to the assistance of his friend, whose prostrate form was covered by a large panther, which had pounced upon him from the overhanging limb of the great oak. It had been but the work of an instant for the powerful cougar to break with his strong jaws the neck of the poor backwoodsman.
In this rare case of a panther (Felis concolor) voluntarily attacking man, it will be noted by the student of natural history that the victim was lying upon the ground. Probably the animal would not have left his perch among the branches of the oak, where he was evidently waiting for the approach of the deer, if the upright form of the man had been seen. Go to a southern bayou, which is rarely, if ever, visited by man, and where its saurian inhabitants have never been annoyed by him, -- place your body in a recumbent position on the margin of the lagoon, and wait until some large alligator slowly rises to the surface of the water. He will eye you for a moment with evident curiosity, and will in some cases steadily approach you. When the monster reptile is within two or three rods of your position, rise slowly upon your feet to your full height, and the alligator of the southern states -- the A. Mississippiensis - will, in nine cases out of ten, retire with precipitation.
There are but few wild animals that will attack man willingly when face to face with him; they quail before his erect form. In every case of the animals of North America showing fight to man, which has been investigated by me, the beasts have had no opportunity to escape, or have had their young to defend, or have been wounded by the hunter.
It was nearly ten o'clock A. M. on Friday, March 26th, when our merry party left Old Town hammock. This day was to see the end of the voyage of the paper canoe, for my tiny craft was to arrive at the waters of the great southern sea before midnight. The wife and daughters of our host, like true women of the forest, offered no forebodings at the departure of the head of their household, but wished him, with cheerful looks, a pleasant voyage to the Gulf. The gulf port of Cedar Keys is but a few miles from the mouth of the Suwanee River. The railroad which terminates at Cedar Keys would, with its connection with other routes, carry the members of our party to their several homes.
The bright day animated our spirits, as we swept swiftly down the river. The party in the shad-boat, now called "Adventurer," rowed merrily on with song and laughter, while I made an attempt to examine more closely the character of the water-moccasin -- the Trigono cephaluspiscivorus of Lacepede, -- which I had more cause to fear than the alligators of the river. The water-moccasin is about two feet in length, and has a circumference of five or six inches. The tail possesses a horny point about half an inch in length, which is harmless, though the Crackers and negroes stoutly affirm that when it strikes a tree the tree withers and dies, and when it enters the flesh of a man he is poisoned unto death. The color of the reptile is a dirty brown. Never found far from water, it is common in the swamps, and is the terror of the rice-field negroes. The bite of the water-moccasin is exceedingly venomous, and it is considered more poisonous than that of the rattlesnake, which warns man of his approach by sounding his rattle.
The moccasin does not, like the rattlesnake, wait to be attacked, but assumes the