The Audubon Reader (40 page)

A comical affair happened with the
bears which I shall relate to you, good reader. A party of my friend Irish’s raftsmen, returning from
Mauch Chunk one afternoon through sundry short cuts over the mountains at the season when the huckleberries are ripe and plentiful, were suddenly apprised of the proximity of some of these animals by their snuffing the air. No sooner was this perceived than to the astonishment of the party not fewer than eight bears, I was told, made their appearance. Each man, being provided with his short-handled axe, faced about and willingly came to the scratch; but the assailed soon proved the assailants and with claw and tooth drove off the men in a twinkling. Down they all rushed from the mountain; the noise spread quickly; rifles were soon procured and shouldered; but when the spot was reached no bears were to be found; night forced the hunters back to their homes and a laugh concluded the affair.

I spent six weeks in the Great Pine Forest—swamp it cannot be called—where I made many a drawing. Wishing to leave Pennsylvania and to follow the migratory flocks of our birds to the south, I bade adieu to the excellent wife and rosy children of my friend and to his kind nephew.
Jediah Irish, shouldering his heavy rifle, accompanied me, and trudging directly across the mountains, we arrived at Mauch Chunk in good time for dinner. Shall I ever have the pleasure of seeing that good, that generous man again?

At Mauch Chunk, where we both spent the night, Mr. White, the civil engineer, visited me and looked at the drawings which I had made in the Great Pine Forest. The news he gave me of my sons, then in Kentucky, made me still more anxious to move in their direction, and long before daybreak I shook hands with the good man of the forest and found myself moving towards the capital of Pennsylvania, having as my sole companion a sharp frosty breeze. Left to my thoughts I felt amazed that such a place as the Great Pine Forest should be so little known to the Philadelphians, scarcely any of whom could direct me towards it. How much is it to be regretted, thought I, that the many young gentlemen who are there so much at a loss how to employ their leisure days should
not visit these wild retreats, valuable as they are to the student of nature. How differently would they feel if, instead of spending weeks in smoothing a useless bow and walking out in full dress intent on displaying the make of their legs to some rendezvous where they may enjoy their wines, they were to occupy themselves in contemplating the rich profusion which nature has poured around them, or even in procuring some desiderated specimen for their
Peale’s Museum
, once so valuable and so finely arranged? But alas! no: they are none of them aware of the richness of the Great Pine Swamp, nor are they likely to share the hospitality to be found there.

Night came on as I was thinking of such things and I was turned out of the coach in the streets of the fair city just as the clock struck ten. I cannot say that my bones were much rested, but not a moment was to be lost. So I desired a porter to take up my little luggage, and leading him towards the nearest wharf I found myself soon after gliding across the Delaware towards my former lodgings in the Jerseys. The lights were shining from the parallel streets as I crossed them, all was tranquil and serene, until there came the increasing sound of the Baltimore steamer which, for some reason unknown to me, was that evening later than usual in its arrival. My luggage was landed and carried home by means of a bribe. The people had all retired to rest, but my voice was instantly recognized and an entrance was afforded to me.

Great Pine Swamp, Pennsylvania

28 August 1829

My dearest friend & wife,

I wrote to thee twice on the 25th instant but I do so again; I feel so very uneasy and uncomfortable that I have not a line from thee yet saying,
“I will leave such month; and will be at Louisville in Kentucky about such time or thereabouts.”
I have been in America now 4 months full, and although I expressed my extreme wish to have thee to join me as soon as thou couldst settle affairs and arrange thy business to the best advantage and at thy convenience, not a word have I yet at all satisfactory. Let me beseech thee, my dearest Lucy, not to pine away and make out conjectures and all sorts of ideal fears; let me beseech thee also to be assured that my not going to Louisiana is
much more to our mutual advantage
than if I had done so, as my poor heart thoroughly dictated. I do write thee to come, and that as soon as thou canst; have no fears whatever, I am thy friend and thy husband, as fond of thee as ever, and as ever anxious—oh, devotedly anxious—to render thee comfortable. Come, confide in me, throw thy heart in my care and I will be bound all will go on pretty well! I cannot say more until we meet, and I hope God will will it to be soon.

I am doing what is right, and thou wilt agree with me as soon as I have talked to thee, I am sure. Only let me know thy convenience and time and I will be at Louisville waiting for thee. I have written so to Victor and will do so again this day.

The last lines I have from thee are dated June 28th. Victor enclosed them to me. I have letters from London up to the 12th of June [when] all was going on well there. My French agent, however, had not remitted about 150 pounds, which disappoints my expectations. For God’s sake, my Lucy, do not be troubled with curious ideas such as my liking the birds better than thee, &c., &c., &c. Come and be mine. Write to me often to say so; let me know the
probabilities
of thy being at Louisville and I will go there in time, depend on it …

The great size and beauty of the Wild Turkey, its value as a delicate and highly prized article of food, and the circumstance of its being the origin of the domestic race now generally dispersed over both continents, render it one of the most interesting of the birds indigenous to the United States of America.

The unsettled parts of the States of
Ohio,
Kentucky,
Illinois, and
Indiana, an immense extent of country to the northwest of these districts, upon the Mississippi and Missouri, and the vast regions drained by these rivers from their confluence to
Louisiana, including the wooded parts of
Arkansas,
Tennessee, and
Alabama, are the most abundantly supplied with this magnificent bird. It is less plentiful in
Georgia and the
Carolinas, becomes still scarcer in
Virginia and
Pennsylvania, and is now very rarely seen to the eastward of the last mentioned states. In the course of my rambles through Long Island, the State of New York, and the country around the Lakes, I did not meet with a single individual, although I was informed that some exist in those parts. Turkeys are still to be found along the whole line of the
Alleghany Mountains, where they have become so wary as to be approached only with extreme difficulty. While in the Great Pine Forest, in 1829, I found a single feather that had been dropped from the tail of a female, but saw no bird of the kind. Farther eastward, I do not think they are now to be found. I shall describe the manners of this bird as observed in the countries where it is most abundant, and having resided for many years in Kentucky and Louisiana, may be understood as referring chiefly to them. The Turkey is irregularly migratory, as well as irregularly gregarious. With reference to the first of these circumstances, I have to state, that whenever the
mast
of one portion of the country happens greatly to exceed that of another, the Turkeys are insensibly led towards that spot, by gradually meeting in their haunts with more fruit the nearer they advance towards the place where it is most plentiful. In this manner flock follows after flock, until one district is entirely deserted, while another is, as it were, overflowed by them. But as these
migrations are irregular, and extend over a vast expanse of country, it is necessary that I should describe the manner in which they take place.

About the beginning of October, when scarcely any of the seeds and fruits have yet fallen from the trees, these birds assemble in flocks, and gradually move towards the rich bottom lands of the Ohio and Mississippi. The males, or, as they are more commonly called, the
gobblers
, associate in parties of from ten to a hundred, and search for food apart from the females; while the latter are seen either advancing singly, each with its brood of young, then about two-thirds grown, or in connection with other families, forming parties often amounting to seventy or eighty individuals, all intent on shunning the old cocks, which, even when the young birds have attained this size, will fight with, and often destroy them by repeated blows on the head. Old and young, however, all move in the same course, and on foot, unless their progress be interrupted by a river, or the hunter’s dog force them to take wing. When they come upon a river, they betake themselves to the highest eminences, and there often remain a whole day, or sometimes two, as if for the purpose of consultation. During this time, the males are heard
gobbling
, calling, and making much ado, and are seen strutting about, as if to raise their courage to a pitch befitting the emergency. Even the females and young assume something of the same pompous demeanor, spread out their tails, and run round each other,
purring
loudly, and performing extravagant leaps. At length, when the weather appears settled, and all around is quiet, the whole party mounts to the tops of the highest trees, whence, at a signal, consisting of a single
cluck
, given by a leader, the flock takes flight for the opposite shore. The old and fat birds easily get over, even should the river be a mile in breadth; but the younger and less robust frequently fall into the water, not to be drowned, however, as might be imagined. They bring their wings close to their body, spread out their tail as a support, stretch forward their neck, and, striking out their legs with great vigor, proceed rapidly towards the shore; on approaching which, should they find it too steep for landing, they cease their exertions for a few moments, float down the stream until they come to an accessible part, and by a violent effort generally extricate themselves from the water. It is remarkable, that immediately after thus crossing a large stream, they ramble about for some time, as if bewildered. In this state, they fall an easy prey to the hunter.

When the Turkeys arrive in parts where the mast is abundant, they separate into smaller flocks, composed of birds of all ages and both sexes, promiscuously mingled, and devour all before them. This happens about the middle of November. So gentle do they sometimes become after these long journeys, that they have been seen to approach the farmhouses, associate with the domestic fowls, and enter the stables and corn cribs in quest of
food. In this way, roaming about the forests, and feeding chiefly on mast, they pass the autumn and part of the winter.

As early as the middle of February, they begin to experience the impulse of propagation. The females separate, and fly from the males. The latter strenuously pursue, and begin to gobble or to utter the notes of exultation. The sexes roost apart, but at no great distance from each other. When a female utters a call-note, all the gobblers within hearing return the sound, rolling note after note with as much rapidity as if they intended to emit the last and the first together, not with spread tail, as when fluttering round the females on the ground, or practicing on the branches of the trees on which they have roosted for the night, but much in the manner of the domestic turkey, when an unusual or unexpected noise elicits its singular hubbub. If the call of the female comes from the ground, all the males immediately fly towards the spot, and the moment they reach it, whether the hen be in sight or not, spread out and erect their tail, draw the head back on the shoulders, depress their wings with a quivering motion, and strut pompously about, emitting at the same time a succession of puffs from the lungs, and stopping now and then to listen and look. But whether they spy the female or not, they continue to puff and strut, moving with as much celerity as their ideas of ceremony seem to admit. While thus occupied, the males often encounter each other, in which case desperate battles take place, ending in bloodshed, and often in the loss of many lives, the weaker falling under the repeated blows inflicted upon their head by the stronger.

I have often been much diverted, while watching two males in fierce conflict, by seeing them move alternately backwards and forwards, as either had obtained a better hold, their wings drooping, their tails partly raised, their body-feathers ruffled, and their heads covered with blood. If, as they thus struggle, and gasp for
breath, one of them should lose his hold, his chance is over, for the other, still holding fast, hits him violently with spurs and wings, and in a few minutes brings him to the ground. The moment he is dead, the conqueror treads him under foot, but, what is strange, not with hatred, but with all the motions which he employs in caressing the female.

When the male has discovered and made up to the female (whether such a combat has previously taken place or not), if she be more than one year old, she also struts and gobbles, turns round him as he continues strutting, suddenly opens her wings, throws herself towards him, as if to put a stop to his idle delay, lays herself down, and receives his dilatory caresses. If the cock meet a young hen, he alters his mode of procedure. He struts in a different manner, less pompously and more energetically, moves with rapidity, sometimes rises from the ground, taking a short flight around the hen, as is the manner of some Pigeons, the
Red-breasted Thrush, and many other birds, and on alighting, runs with all his might, at the same time rubbing his tail and wings along the ground, for the space of perhaps ten yards. He then draws near the timorous female, allays her fears by purring, and when she at length assents, caresses her.

When a male and a female have thus come together, I believe the connection continues for that season, although the former by no means confines his attentions to one female, as I have seen a cock caress several hens, when he happened to fall in with them in the same place, for the first time. After this the hens follow their favorite cock, roosting in his immediate neighborhood, if not on the same tree, until they begin to lay, when they separate themselves, in order to save their
eggs from the male, who would break them all, for the purpose of protracting his sexual enjoyments. The females then carefully avoid him, excepting during a short period each day. After this the males become clumsy and slovenly, if one may say so, cease to fight with each other, give up gobbling or calling so frequently, and assume so careless a habit, that the hens are obliged to make all the advances themselves. They
yelp
loudly and almost continually for the cocks, run up to them, caress them, and employ various means to rekindle their expiring ardor.