The Audubon Reader (27 page)

Next day we trudged along, but nothing very remarkable occurred excepting that we saw a fine black wolf quite
tame and gentle, the owner of which had refused a hundred dollars for it. Mr. Rose, who was an engineer and a man of taste, amused us with his flageolet and frequently spoke of his wife, his children and his fireside, which increased my good opinion of him. At an orchard we filled our pockets with October peaches, and when we came to
Trade Water River we found it quite low. The acorns were already drifted on its shallows and the
Wood Ducks were running about picking them up. Passing a flat bottom, we saw a large Buffalo Lick. Where now are the bulls which erst scraped its earth away, bellowing forth their love or their anger?

Good Mr. Rose’s feet became sorer and sorer each succeeding day; Mr. S. at length nearly gave up; my son had grown brisker.
The 20th was cloudy and we dreaded rain, as we knew the country to be flat and clayey. In Union County we came to a large opening and found the house of a Justice, who led us kindly to the main road and accompanied us for a mile, giving us excellent descriptions of brooks, woods and barrens, notwithstanding which we should have been much puzzled, had not a neighbor on horseback engaged to shew us the way. The rain now fell in torrents and rendered us very uncomfortable, but at length we reached Highland Lick, where we stumbled on a cabin, the door of which we thrust open, overturning a chair that had been placed behind it. On a dirty bed lay a man, a table with a journal or perhaps a ledger before him, a small cask in a corner near him, a brass pistol on a nail over his head and a long Spanish dagger by his side. He rose and asked what was wanted. “The way to a better place, the road to Sugg’s.” “Follow the road and you’ll get to his house in about five miles!” My party were waiting for me, warming themselves by the fires of the salt-kettles. The being I had seen was an overseer. By-and-by we crossed a creek; the country was hilly, clayey and slippery; Mr. S. was cursing, Rose limped like a lame duck, but Victor kept up like a veteran.

Another day, kind reader, and I shall for a while shut my journal. The morning of the 21st was beautiful; we had slept comfortably at Sugg’s, and we soon found ourselves on pleasant barrens with an agreeable road. Rose and S. were so nearly knocked up that they proposed to us to go on without them. We halted and talked a few minutes on the subject, when our companions stated their resolution to proceed at a slower pace. So we bade them adieu. I asked my son how he felt; he laughed and quickened his steps; and in a short time our former associates were left out of sight. In about two hours we were seated in the
Green River ferry boat with our legs hanging in the water. At
Smith’s Ferry this stream looks like a deep lake; and the thick cane on its banks, the large overhanging willows and its dark green waters never fail to form a fine picture, more especially in the calm of an autumnal evening. Mr. Smith gave us a good supper, sparkling cider and a comfortable bed. It was arranged that he should drive us to Louisville in his Dearborn [wagon]; and so here ended our walk of two hundred and fifty miles …

No traveler who is at all gifted with the faculty of observation can ascend that extraordinary river, the Mississippi, in the first days of autumn without feeling enchanted by the varied vegetation which adorns its alluvial shores: the tall cottonwood tree descending to the very margin of the stream, the arrow-shaped ash mixing its branches with those of the pecan and black walnut, immense
oaks and numerous species of
hickory covering with their foliage the densely tangled canes from amongst which at every step vines of various kinds shoot up, winding round the stems and interlacing their twigs and tendrils, stretching from one branch to another until they have reached and overspread the whole like a verdant canopy, forming one solid mass of richest vegetation in the foreground of the picture; whilst wherever the hills are in view the great magnolias, the hollies, and the noble pines are seen gently waving their lofty heads to the breeze.

The current becomes rapid and ere long several of the windings of the great stream have been met and passed, and with these new scenes present themselves to the view. The forest at this place, as if in doleful mourning at the sight of the havoc made on its margin by the impetuous and regardless waters, has thrown over her a ragged veil produced by the long dangling masses that spread from branch to branch over the
cypress trees. The dejected
Indian’s camp lies in your sight. He casts a melancholy glance over the scene and remembers that he is no longer the peaceful and sole possessor of the land. Islands one after another come in sight and at every winding of the stream you see boats propelled by steam ascending the river, and others without such aid silently gliding with the current.

Much might the traveler find to occupy his mind and lead him into speculations regarding the past, the present and the future were he not attracted by the clear mellow notes that issue from the woods, and gratified by the sight of the brilliant Oriole now before you. In solitudes like these the traveler might feel pleased with any sound, even the howl of the
wolf or the still more dismal bellow of the
alligator. Then how delightful must it be to hear the melody resulting from thousands of musical voices that come from some
neighboring tree and which insensibly leads the mind, with whatever it may previously have been occupied, first to the contemplation of the wonders of nature, and then to that of the Great Creator himself.

Now we have ascended the mighty river, have left it and entered the still more enchanting Ohio, and yet never for a day have we been without the company of the Oriole. Here amongst the pendulous branches of the lofty tulip trees it moves gracefully up and down, seeking in the expanding leaves and opening blossoms the caterpillar and the green beetle which generally contribute to its food. Well, reader, it was one of these pendulous twigs which I took when I made the drawing before you. But instead of having cut it on the banks of the Ohio I found it in the State of Louisiana, to which we shall return.

The Baltimore Oriole arrives from the south, perhaps from Mexico or perhaps from a more distant region, and enters Louisiana as soon as spring commences there. It approaches the planter’s house and searches amongst the surrounding trees for a suitable place in which to settle for the season. It prefers, I believe, the trees that grow on the sides of a gentle declivity. The choice of a twig being made, the male Oriole becomes extremely conspicuous. He flies to the ground, searches for the longest and driest filaments of the moss which in that state is known by the name of Spanish beard, and whenever he finds one fit for his purpose ascends to the favorite spot where the
nest is to be, uttering all the while a continued chirrup which seems to imply that he knows no fear but on the contrary fancies himself the acknowledged king of the woods. This sort of chirruping becomes louder and is emitted in an angry tone whenever an enemy approaches or the bird is accidentally surprised, the sight of a cat or a dog being always likely to produce it. No sooner does he reach the branches than with bill and claws, aided by an astonishing sagacity, he fastens one end of the moss to a twig with as much art as a sailor might do and takes up the other end, which he secures also, but to another twig a few inches off, leaving the thread floating in the air like a swing, the curve of which is perhaps seven or eight inches from the twigs. The female comes to his assistance with another filament of moss or perhaps some cotton thread or other fibrous substance,
inspects the work which her mate has done and immediately commences her operations, placing each thread in a contrary direction to those arranged by her lordly mate and making the whole cross and re-cross so as to form an irregular network. Their love increases daily as they see the graceful fabric approaching perfection, until their conjugal affection and faith become as complete as in any species of birds with which I am acquainted.

The nest has now been woven from the bottom to the top and so secured that no tempest can carry it off without breaking the branch to which it is suspended. Remark what follows. This nest contains no warming substance such as wool, cotton, or cloth, but is almost entirely composed of the Spanish moss interwoven in such a manner that the air can easily pass through it. The parents no doubt are aware of the intense heat which will exist ere long in this part of the world, and moreover take especial care to place their nest on the northeast side of the trees. On the contrary, had they gone as far as Pennsylvania or New York they would have formed it of the warmest and softest materials and have placed it in a position which would have left it exposed to the sun’s rays, the changes in the weather during the early period of incubation being sometimes so great there that the bird looks on these precautions as necessary to ensure the life of its brood against intense cold should it come, while it knows that the heat in these northern latitudes will not be so great as to incommode them. I have observed these sensible differences in the formation and position of the nests of the Baltimore Oriole a great many times, as no doubt have other persons. The female lays from four to six
eggs and in Louisiana frequently rears two broods in a season. The period of incubation is fourteen days. The eggs are about an inch in length, rather broadly ovate, pale brown, dotted, spotted and tortuously lined with dark brown.

The movements of these birds as they run among the branches of trees differ materially from those of almost all others. They cling frequently by the feet in order to reach an insect at such a distance from them as to require the full extension of their neck, body and legs without letting go their hold. They sometimes glide as it were along a small twig and at other times move sidewise for a few steps. Their motions are elegant and stately. Their song consists of
three or four or at most eight or ten loud, full and mellow notes, extremely agreeable to the ear.

A day or two before the
young are quite able to leave the nest they often cling to the outside and creep in and out of it like young Woodpeckers. After leaving the nest, they follow the parents for nearly a fortnight and are fed by them. As soon as the mulberries and figs become ripe they resort to these fruits, and are equally fond of sweet cherries, strawberries and others. During spring their principal
food is insects, which they seldom pursue on the wing but which they search for with great activity among the leaves and branches. I have seen the young of the first brood out early in May and of the second in July. As soon as they are fully able to take care of themselves they generally part from each other and leave the country as their parents had come, that is, singly.

During migration the
flight of the Baltimore Oriole is performed high above all the trees and mostly during day, as I have usually observed them alighting, always singly, about the setting of the sun, uttering a note or two and darting into the lower branches to feed and afterwards to rest. To assure myself of this mode of traveling by day I marked the place where a beautiful male had perched one evening and on going to the spot next morning long before dawn I had the pleasure of hearing his first notes as light appeared and saw him search a while for food and afterwards mount in the air, making his way to warmer climes. Their flight is straight and continuous.

This beautiful bird is easily kept in cages and may be fed on dried figs, raisins, hard-boiled eggs, and insects. When shot they will often clench the twig so firmly as to remain hanging fast to it until dislodged by another shot or a blow against the twig.

The
plumage of the male bird is not mature until the third spring and I have therefore in my drawing represented the males of the first, second and third years. The female will form the subject of another plate. The male of the first year was taken for a female by my engraver during my absence and marked as such, although some of the plates were corrected the moment I saw the mistake.

The Baltimore Oriole, although found throughout the Union, is so partial to particular sections or districts that of two places not twenty miles distant from each other, while none are to be seen in
the one, a dozen pairs or more may be in the neighborhood of the other. They are fondest of hilly ground, refreshed by streams.

[The Baltimore Oriole,
Icterus galbula
, appears in Plates 12 and 433 of
The Birds of America
.]

After wandering on some of our great lakes for many months, I bent my course towards the celebrated Falls of Niagara, being desirous of taking a sketch of them. This was not my first visit to them and I hoped it should not be the last.

Artists (I know not if I can be called one) too often imagine that what they produce must be excellent, and with that foolish idea go on spoiling much paper and canvas when their time might have been better employed in a different manner. But digressions aside—I directed my steps towards the Falls of Niagara with the view of representing them on paper for the amusement of my family. Returning as I then was from a tedious journey and possessing little more than some drawings of rare birds and plants, I reached the tavern at
Niagara Falls in such plight as might have deterred many an individual from obtruding himself upon a circle of well-clad and perhaps well-bred society. Months had passed since the last of my linen had been taken from my body and used to clean that useful companion, my gun. I was in fact covered just like one of the poorer class of Indians and was rendered even more disagreeable to the eye of civilized man by not having, like them, plucked my beard or trimmed my hair in any way. Had Hogarth been living, and there when I arrived, he could not have found a fitter subject for a Robinson Crusoe. My beard covered my neck in front, my hair fell much lower at my back, the leather dress which I wore had for months stood in need of repair, a large knife hung at my side, a rusty tin box containing my drawings and colors and wrapped up in a worn-out blanket that had served me for a bed was buckled to my shoulders. To everyone I must have seemed immersed in the depths of poverty, perhaps of despair. Nevertheless, as I cared little about my appearance during those happy rambles, I pushed into the sitting-room, unstrapped my little burden and asked how soon breakfast would be ready. In America no person is ever refused entrance to the inns, at least far from cities. We know too well how many poor creatures are forced to make their way from other countries in search of employment or to seek uncultivated land and we are ever ready to let them have what they may call for. No one knew who I was, and the landlord looking at
me with an eye of close scrutiny, answered that breakfast would be on the table as soon as the company should come down from their rooms. I approached this important personage, told him of my avocations and convinced him that he might feel safe as to remuneration. From this moment I was, with him at least, on equal footing with every other person in his house. He talked a good deal of the many artists who had visited the Falls that season from different parts, and offered to assist me by giving such accommodations as I might require to finish the drawings I had in contemplation. He left me and as I looked about the room, I saw several views of the Falls by which I was so disgusted that I suddenly came to my better senses. “What!” thought I, “have I come here to mimic nature in her grandest enterprise and add my caricature of one of the wonders of the world to those which I here see? No—I give up the vain attempt. I shall look on these mighty cataracts and imprint them where alone they can be represented—on my mind!”