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country from twenty to thirty miles wide, bleak and wild, and but
sparsely settled. The traveler on the New York and Erie Railroad gets
a glimpse of it.
Many cold, rapid trout streams, which flow to all points of the
compass, have their source in the small lakes and copious mountain
springs of this region. The names of some of them are Mill Brook, Dry
Brook, Willewemack, Beaver Kill, Elk Bush Kill, Panther Kill,
Neversink, Big Ingin, and Callikoon. Beaver Kill is the main outlet on
the west. It joins the Deleware in the wilds of Hancock. The Neversink
lays open the region to the south, and also joins the Delaware. To the
east, various Kills unite with the Big Ingin to form the Esopus, which
flows into the Hudson. Dry Brook and Mill Brook, both famous trout
streams, from twelve to fifteen miles long, find their way into the
Delaware.
The east or Pepacton branch of the Delaware itself takes its rise near
here in a deep pass between the mountains. I have many times drunk at
a copious spring by the roadside, where the infant river first sees
the light. A few yards beyond, the water flows the other way,
directing its course through the Bear Kill and Schoharie Kill into the
Mohawk.
Such game and wild animals as still linger in the State are found in
this region. Bears occasionally make havoc among the sheep. The
clearings at the head of a valley are oftenest the scene of their
depredations.
Wild pigeons, in immense numbers used to breed regularly in the valley
of the Big Ingin and about the head of the Neversink. The treetops for
miles were full of their nests, while the going and coming of the old
birds kept up a constant din. But the gunners soon got wind of it, and
from far and near were wont to pour in during the spring, and to
slaughter both old and young. This practice soon had the effect of
driving the pigeons all away, and now only a few pairs breed in these
woods.
Deer are still met with, though they are becoming scarcer every year.
Last winter near seventy head were killed on the Beaver Kill alone. I
heard of one wretch, who, finding the deer snowbound, walked up to
them on his snowshoes, and one morning before breakfast slaughtered
six, leaving their carcasses where they fell. There are traditions of
persons having been smitten blind or senseless when about to commit
some heinous offense, but the fact that this villain escaped without
some such visitation throws discredit on all such stories.
The
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