The Audubon Reader (15 page)

It may not perhaps be out of place to attempt an estimate of the number of Pigeons contained in one of those mighty flocks and of the quantity of food daily consumed by its members. The inquiry will tend to shew the astonishing bounty of the great Author of Nature in providing for the wants of his creatures. Let us take a column of one mile in breadth, which is far below the average size, and suppose it passing over us without interruption for three hours at the rate mentioned above of one mile in the minute. This will give us a parallelogram of 180 miles by 1 covering 180 square miles. Allowing two pigeons to the square yard, we have one billion, one hundred and fifteen millions, one hundred and thirty-six thousand pigeons in one flock. As every pigeon daily consumes fully half a pint of food, the quantity necessary for supplying this vast multitude must be eight millions seven hundred and twelve thousand bushels per day.

As soon as the Pigeons discover a sufficiency of food to entice them to alight, they fly round in circles reviewing the country below. During their evolutions on such occasions the dense mass which they form exhibits a beautiful appearance as it changes its
direction, now displaying a glistening sheet of azure when the backs of the birds come simultaneously into view and anon suddenly presenting a mass of rich deep purple. They then pass lower over the woods and for a moment are lost among the foliage, but again emerge and are seen gliding aloft. They now alight, but the next moment as if suddenly alarmed they take to wing, producing by the flappings of their wings a noise like the roar of distant thunder, and sweep through the forests to see if danger is near. Hunger, however, soon brings them to the ground. When alighted they are seen industriously throwing up the withered leaves in quest of the fallen mast. The rear ranks are continually rising, passing over the main body and alighting in front in such rapid succession that the whole flock seems still on wing. The quantity of ground thus swept is astonishing, and so completely has it been cleared that the gleaner who might follow in their rear would find his labor completely lost. Whilst feeding, their avidity is at times so great that in attempting to swallow a large acorn or nut they are seen gasping for a long while as if in the agonies of suffocation.

On such occasions, when the woods are filled with these Pigeons, they are killed in immense numbers, although no apparent diminution ensues. About the middle of the day, after their repast is finished, they settle on the trees to enjoy rest and digest their food. On the ground they walk with ease, as well as on the branches, frequently jerking their beautiful tail and moving the neck backwards and forwards in the most graceful manner. As the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon they depart
en masse
for the
roosting place, which not unfrequently is hundreds of miles distant, as has been ascertained by persons who have kept an account of their arrivals and departures.

Let us now, kind reader, inspect their place of nightly rendezvous. One of these curious roosting places, on the banks of the
Green River in Kentucky, I repeatedly visited. It was, as is always the case, in a portion of the forest where the trees were of great magnitude and where there was little underwood. I rode through it upwards of forty miles, and crossing it in different parts found its average breadth to be rather more than three miles. My first view of it was about a fortnight subsequent to the period when they had made choice of it and I arrived there nearly two hours
before sunset. Few Pigeons were then to be seen, but a great number of persons with horses and wagons, guns and ammunition, had already established encampments on the borders. Two farmers from the vicinity of Russelsville, distant more than a hundred miles, had driven upwards of three hundred hogs to be fattened on the pigeons which were to be slaughtered. Here and there the people employed in plucking and salting what had already been procured were seen sitting in the midst of large piles of these birds. The dung lay several inches deep, covering the whole extent of the roosting place like a bed of snow. Many trees two feet in diameter, I observed, were broken off at no great distance from the ground; and the branches of many of the largest and tallest had given way as if the forest had been swept by a tornado. Everything proved to me that the number of birds resorting to this part of the forest must be immense beyond conception.

As the period of their arrival approached, their foes anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with iron pots containing sulfur, others with torches of pine-knots, many with poles and the rest with guns. The sun was lost to our view, yet not a Pigeon had arrived. Everything was ready and all eyes were gazing on the clear sky which appeared in glimpses amidst the tall trees. Suddenly there burst forth a general cry of “Here they come!” The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel.

As the birds arrived and passed over me I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole-men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted and a magnificent, as well as wonderful and almost terrifying sight presented itself. The Pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted everywhere one above another until solid masses as large as hogsheads were formed on the branches all round. Here and there the perches gave way under the weight with a crash and, falling to the ground, destroyed hundreds of the birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded. It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it quite useless to speak or even to shout to those persons who were nearest to me. Even the reports of the guns were seldom heard and I was made aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters reloading.

No one dared venture within the line of devastation. The hogs had been penned up in due time, the picking up of the dead and wounded being left for the next morning’s employment. The Pigeons were constantly coming, and it was past midnight before I perceived a decrease in the number of those that arrived. The uproar continued the whole night; and as I was anxious to know to what distance the sound reached, I sent off a man accustomed to perambulate the forest who, returning two hours afterwards, informed me he had heard it distinctly when three miles distant from the spot. Towards the approach of day the noise in some measure subsided; long before objects were distinguishable the Pigeons began to move off in a direction quite different from that in which they had arrived the evening before, and at sunrise all that were able to fly had disappeared. The howlings of the wolves now reached our ears, and the
foxes,
lynxes,
cougars,
bears,
raccoons,
opossums and
polecats were seen sneaking off, whilst
eagles and
hawks of different species accompanied by a crowd of vultures came to supplant them and enjoy their share of the spoil.

It was then that the authors of all this devastation began their entry amongst the dead, the dying and the mangled. The Pigeons were picked up and piled in heaps until each had as many as he could possibly dispose of, when the hogs were let loose to feed on the remainder. Persons unacquainted with these birds might naturally conclude that such dreadful havoc would soon put an end to the species. But I have satisfied myself by long observation that nothing but the gradual diminution of our forests can accomplish their decrease, as they not unfrequently quadruple their numbers yearly and always at least double it. In 1805 I saw schooners loaded in bulk with Pigeons caught up the
Hudson River coming in to the wharf at New York, when the birds sold for a cent a piece. I knew a man in Pennsylvania who caught and killed upwards of 500 dozens in a clap net in one day, sweeping sometimes twenty dozens or more at a single haul. In the month of March 1830 they were so abundant in the markets of New York that piles of them met the eye in every direction. I have seen the Negroes at the United States’ Salines or Saltworks of
Shawnee Town [Ohio] wearied with killing Pigeons as they alighted to drink the water issuing from the leading pipes for weeks at a time; and yet in 1826 in
Louisiana I saw congregated flocks of these birds as numerous as ever I had seen them before during a residence of nearly thirty years in the United States.

The
breeding of the Wild Pigeons and the places chosen for that purpose are points of great interest. The time is not much influenced by season and the place selected is where food is most plentiful and most attainable, and always at a convenient distance from water. Forest trees of great height are those in which the Pigeons form their
nests. Thither the countless myriads resort and prepare to fulfill one of the great laws of nature. At this period the note of the Pigeon is a soft
coo-coo-coo-coo
, much shorter than that of the domestic species. The common notes resemble the monosyllables
kee-kee-kee-kee
, the first being the loudest, the others gradually diminishing in power. The male assumes a pompous demeanor and follows the female whether on the ground or on the branches, with spread tail and drooping wings which it rubs against the part over which it is moving. The body is elevated, the throat swells, the eyes sparkle. He continues his notes and now and then rises on the wing and flies a few yards to approach the fugitive and timorous female. Like the domestic Pigeon and other species, they caress each other by
billing, in which action the bill of the one is introduced transversely into that of the other and both parties alternately disgorge the contents of their crop by repeated efforts. These preliminary affairs are soon settled and the Pigeons commence their nests in general peace and harmony. They are composed of a few dry twigs, crossing each other, and are supported by forks of the branches. On the same tree from fifty to a hundred nests may frequently be seen—I might say a much greater number were I not anxious, kind reader, that however wonderful my account of the Wild Pigeon is, you may not feel disposed to refer it to the marvelous. The eggs are two in number, of a broadly elliptical form and pure white. During incubation the male supplies the female with food. Indeed, the tenderness and affection displayed by these birds towards their mates are in the highest degree striking. It is a remarkable fact that each brood generally consists of a male and a female.

Here again the tyrant of the creation, man, interferes, disturbing the harmony of this peaceful scene. As the young birds grow up, their enemies, armed with axes, reach the spot to seize and destroy
all they can. The trees are felled and made to fall in such a way that the cutting of one causes the overthrow of another or shakes the neighboring trees so much that the young Pigeons, or
squabs
, as they are named, are violently hurried to the ground. In this manner also, immense quantities are destroyed.

The young are fed by the parents in the manner described above; in other words, the old bird introduces its bill into the mouth of the young one in a transverse manner or with the back of each mandible opposite the separations of the mandibles of the young bird, and disgorges the contents of its crop. As soon as the young birds are able to shift for themselves, they leave their parents and continue separate until they attain maturity. By the end of six months they are capable of reproducing their species.

The flesh of the Wild Pigeon is of a dark color but affords tolerable eating. That of young birds from the nest is much esteemed. The skin is covered with small white filmy scales. The feathers fall off at the least touch, as has been remarked to be the case in the Carolina Turtle[dove]. I have only to add that this species, like others of the same genus, immerses its head up to the eyes while drinking.

In March 1830, I bought about 350 of these birds in the market of New York at four cents a piece. Most of these I carried alive to England and distributed amongst several noblemen, presenting some at the same time to the Zoological Society.

[The Passenger Pigeon,
Ectopistes migratorius
, appears in Plate 62 of
The Birds of America
.]

Couëron, France

24 September 1817

My good friend,

We have in front of us your two letters, of last June 8th and July 27th. We have categorically answered the first and we will [now] do so with the second.

First you tell us that you are sending us a proxy under the name of Jean Rabin and you sign it Jean [i.e., John James] Audubon. This change of name invalidates the proxy; the name you sign must be Jean Rabin, Creole from Santo Domingo, with no question of Jean Audubon except as it concerns the name of your spouse. Since the fall of the usurper [i.e., Napoleon] our laws have changed and are those of a legitimate king; the new code requires that the name of the mother be the only one you employ in your proxy, which, when you have read and judged it, you can sign by the name Jean Rabin. Then get the authorities of the country you live in to legalize it and have it certified by the French consul; and don’t forget to have each authority stamp it.

You ask us if a naturalized citizen of the United States can come to France without risking trouble or difficulty if he didn’t like it—if he could return to the United States to enjoy the same rights he had before he left for France. Yes, he can, and without any problem for anybody. Here is proof: First, the government here considers
that men are free to travel, to go wherever they please for their business, by asking for a passport at the City Hall of the place where they live; for people living overseas, a passport is available without difficulty from the French embassy. Mr. Wenir came with a fortune made on your continent without settling here and he has been warmly accepted. Mr. Formont has had a similar experience, and there are many others, none of whom were bothered in the least. They could, if it pleased them, go back to the United States or elsewhere. We even have several American [import-export] houses, which trade only with the United States and obtain, like all French citizens, government protection.