part i
. p. 444.
Adult Male. Plate CXIII. Fig. 1.
Bill of ordinary length, nearly straight, broader than deep at the base, compressed towards the end; upper mandible with the dorsal line convex, the tip declinate, the edges sharp. Nostrils basal, oval. Head rather large, neck short, body rather full. Feet of ordinary length, slender; tarsus compressed, covered anteriorly with a few long scutella, acute behind, scarcely longer than the middle toe; toes scutellate above, the two lateral ones nearly equal; claws arched, slender, compressed, that of the hind toe much larger.
Plumage soft and blended, slightly glossed. Wings of ordinary length, broad, the first quill longest, the second scarcely shorter, the secondary quills truncato-emarginate. Tail rather long, broad, nearly even, of twelve broad, rounded feathers. Short bristle-pointed feathers at the base of the mandible.
Bill and feet black, the soles yellow, iris yellowish-brown. The general colour of the upper parts is bright azure-blue, that of the lower yellowish-brown, the belly white. Shafts of the quills and tail feathers dusky.
Length 7 inches, extent of wing 10; bill along the ridge ½, along the edge ¾; tarsus 8/12.
Adult Female. Plate CXIII. Fig. 2.
The female has the upper part of a tint approaching to leaden, the foreneck and sides yellowish-brown, but duller than in the male, the belly white.
Length 6½ inches.
Young Bird. Plate CXIII. Fig. 3.
When fully fledged, the young have the upper part of the head, the back of the neck, and a portion of the back broccoli-brown; the rest of the upper part much as in the Female. The lower parts are light grey, the feathers of the breast and sides margined with brown.
THE GREAT MULLEIN.
VERBASCUM THAPSUS, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. i. p. 1001. _Pursh_, Flor. Amer. vol. i. p. 142. _Smith_, Engl. Flor. vol. i. p. 512. —PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._ SOLANEÆ, _Juss._
This plant, which is well known in Europe, is equally so in America; but whether it has been accidentally or otherwise introduced into the latter country, I cannot say. At present there is hardly an old field or abandoned piece of ground on the borders of the roads that is not overgrown with it. In the Middle and Southern Districts, it frequently attains a height of five or six feet. The flowers are used in infusion for catarrhs, and a decoction of the leaves is employed in chronic rheumatism.
THE WHITE-CROWNED SPARROW.
_FRINGILLA LEUCOPHRYS_, BONAP.
PLATE CXIV. MALE AND FEMALE.
It is to the wild regions of Labrador that you must go, kind reader, if you wish to form a personal acquaintance with the White-crowned Sparrow. There in every secluded glen opening upon the boisterous Gulf of St Lawrence, while amazed you glance over the wilderness that extends around you, so dreary and desolate that the blood almost congeals in your veins, you meet with this interesting bird. Your body is sinking under the fatigue occasioned by your wading through beds of moss, as extraordinary for their depth, as for the brilliancy of their tints, and by the difficulties which you have encountered in forcing your way through the tangled creeping pines, so dwarfish and so stubborn, that you often find it easier to trample down their branches than to separate them so as to allow you a passage. In such a place, when you are far away from all that is dear to you, how cheering is it to hear the mellow notes of a bird, that seems as if it had been sent expressly for the purpose of relieving your mind from the heavy melancholy that bears it down! The sounds are so sweet, so refreshing, so soothing, so hope inspiring, that as they come upon the soul in all their gentleness and joy, the tears begin to flow from your eyes, the burden on your mind becomes lighter, your heart expands, and you experience a pure delight, produced by the invitation thus made to offer your humblest and most sincere thanks to that all-wondrous Being, who has caused you to be there no doubt for the purpose of becoming better acquainted with the operations of his mighty power.
Thus it was with me, when, some time after I had been landed on the dreary coast of Labrador, I for the first time heard the song of the White-crowned Sparrow. I could not refrain from indulging in the thought that, notwithstanding the many difficulties attending my attempts—my mission I must call it—to study God's works in this wild region, I was highly favoured. At every step, new objects presented themselves, and whenever I rested, I enjoyed a delight never before experienced. Humbly and fervently did I pray for a continuation of those blessings, through which I now hoped to see my undertaking completed, and again to join my ever-dear family.
I first became acquainted with the White-crowned Sparrow at Henderson, in the autumn of 1817. I then thought it the handsomest bird of its kind, and my opinion still is that none other known to me as a visitor or inhabitant of the United States, exceeds it in beauty. I procured five individuals, three of which were in full plumage and proved to be males. The sex of the other two could not be ascertained; but I have since become convinced that these birds lose the white stripes on the head in the winter season, when they might be supposed to be of a different species. During spring and summer the male and the female are of equal beauty, the former being only a little larger than the latter. The young which I procured in Labrador, shewed the white stripes on the head as they were fully fledged, and I think they retain those marks in autumn longer than the old birds, of which the feathers have become much worn at that season. In the winter of 1833, I procured at Charleston in South Carolina, one in its brown livery.
One day, while near American Harbour, in Labrador, I observed a pair of these birds frequently resorting to a small hummock of firs, where I concluded they must have had a nest. After searching in vain, I intimated my suspicion to my young friends, when we all crept through the tangled branches, and examined the place, but without success. Determined, however, to obtain our object, we returned with hatchets, cut down every tree to its roots, removed each from the spot, pulled up all the mosses between them, and completely cleared the place; yet no nest did we find. Our disappointment was the greater that we saw the male bird frequently flying about with food in its bill, no doubt intended for its mate. In a short while, the pair came near us, and both were shot. In the female we found an egg, which was pure white, but with the shell yet soft and thin. On the 6th July, while my son was creeping among some low bushes, to get a shot at some Red-throated Divers, he accidentally started a female from her nest. It made much complaint. The nest was placed in the moss, near the foot of a low fir, and was formed externally of beautiful dry green moss, matted in bunches like the coarse hair of some quadruped, internally of very fine dry grass, arranged with great neatness, to the thickness of nearly half an inch, with a full lining of delicate fibrous roots of a rich transparent yellow. It was 5 inches in diameter externally, 2 in depth, 2¼ in diameter within, although rather oblong, and 1¾ deep. In one nest we found a single feather of the Willow Grous. The eggs, five in number, average ⅞ of an inch in length, are proportionally broad, of a light sea-green colour, mottled toward the larger end with brownish spots and blotches, a few spots of a lighter tint being dispersed over the whole. This description differs greatly from that of the nest and eggs of this species given by others, who, I apprehend, have mistaken for them those of the Fox-tailed Sparrow, or the _Anthus Spinoletta_. We found many nests, which were all placed on the ground, or among the moss, and were all constructed alike. They deposit their eggs from the beginning to the end of June. In the beginning of August, I saw many young that were able to fly, and by the 12th of that month the birds had already commenced their southward migration. The young follow their parents until nearly full grown.
The food of this species, while in Labrador, consists of small coleopterous insects, grass seeds, and a variety of berries, as well as some minute shell-fish, for which they frequently search the margins of ponds or the sea-shore. At the approach of autumn, they pursue insects on the wing, to a short distance, and doubtless secure some in that manner.
The song of the White-crowned Finch consists of six or seven notes, the first of which is loud, clear, and musical, although of a plaintive nature; the next broader, less firm, and seeming merely a second to the first; the rest form a cadence diminishing in power to the last note, which sounds as if the final effort of the musician. These notes are repeated at short intervals during the whole day, even on those dismal days produced by the thick fogs of the country where it breeds, and where this species is of all the most abundant. The White-throated Finch was also very plentiful, and we found it breeding in the same localities.
The flight of this interesting bird is usually low, swift, and greatly protracted. It is performed without any jerk of the tail. They migrate mostly by day—I say _mostly_, because while crossing a great arm of the sea, like the Gulf of St Lawrence, they perhaps may not always be able to accomplish their transit in one day.
I have met with this bird in almost every portion of the United States during early spring and autumn, but always either single or in very small groups. I have shot some near New Orleans in April, at Cincinnati, and near New York in May. They reach the Magdeleine Islands, Newfoundland, and the coast of Labrador, about the first of June. Those which I have seen on their passage through the United States were perfectly silent, and usually frequented low bushes and grape vines, the fruit of which they eagerly eat, but never entering the woods. In every instance I found them as gentle and unsuspicious as whilst at Labrador.
In the plate are to be seen two of these birds, drawn many years ago, one of them a male in full summer plumage, the other a female in the winter dress. I have no doubt that this species retires far south in Mexico, to spend the winter. It is nearly allied to the White-throated and Fox-tailed Sparrows, and in its winter plumage it may perhaps prove to be the _Fringilla ambigua_ of my friend NUTTALL.
FRINGILLA LEUCOPHRYS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 107.—_Nuttall_, Manual, p. 479.
EMBERIZA LEUCOPHRYS, _Gmel._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 874.—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 413.
WHITE-CROWNED BUNTING, EMBERIZA LEUCOPHRYS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 49. pl. 31. fig. 4. Male.
Adult male. Plate CXIV. Fig. 1.
Bill very short, robust, conical, acute; upper mandible scarcely broader than the lower, both almost straight in their outline, rounded on the sides, with the edges inflected and sharp; the gap line very slightly deflected at the base, and not extending to beneath the eye. Nostrils basal, roundish, partially concealed by the feathers. Head rather large, neck short, body full. Legs of moderate length, rather strong; tarsus longer than the middle toe, covered anteriorly with a few longish scutella; toes scutellate above, free, the lateral ones nearly equal; claws slender, arched, compressed, acute, that of the hind toe rather large.
Plumage soft and rather blended above, loose beneath. Wings short and curved, rounded, the third quill longest, the second and fourth almost as long. Tail rather long, nearly even, of twelve rounded feathers.
Bill reddish-orange, tipped with brown. Iris reddish-brown. Feet pale brown. The head is marked with three stripes of white, and four of deep black. Back and wing-coverts dark reddish-brown, with pale grey margins, the posterior part of the back and upper tail-coverts lighter brown. Quills and tail dark brown, margined with pale; the tip of the smaller coverts white, as are those of some of the primary coverts, which, with the secondary quills, have chestnut-brown edges. Throat and belly white; sides of the neck and the breast dull purplish-grey; the flanks and under tail-coverts pale brownish-grey.
Length 7½ inches; extent of wings 10½; bill along the ridge 4½/12, along the edge 7/12; tarsus 10/12.
Adult Female. Plate CXIV. Fig. 2.
In its summer dress, the female resembles the male at that season; but in winter the white lines on the head are less pure, the dark lines are reddish-brown, but the tints of the other parts are nearly similar, these circumstances being the same in the male.
Length 7¼ inches.
THE SUMMER GRAPE.
VITIS ÆSTIVALIS, var. SINUATA, _Pursh_, Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 169.
This variety has large cordate leaves, which are less deeply lobed, and with large marginal teeth. It occurs in all the barren lands of the Western Country, particularly in those of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Illinois. Although it seldom attains much strength of stem, it spreads broadly on the bushes, and forms beautiful festoons. The grapes are juicy and agreeable to the taste. They are fully ripe by the middle of August, and remain hanging until destroyed by the frost. When wild pigeons happen to be abundant where it grows, they speedily devour the fruit.
THE WOOD PEWEE.
_MUSCICAPA VIRENS_, LINN.
PLATE CXV. MALE.
The great similarity as to form, size, tone of voice, and general colouring, that exists between the Wood Pewee, Traill's Flycatcher, the _Muscicapa acadica_ of GMELIN, and a smaller species, which I found abundant in Labrador, and which has been beautifully figured and described in the Fauna Boreali-Americana of my friends SWAINSON and RICHARDSON, under the name of _Tyrannula Richardsonii_, renders it difficult to indicate their distinctive characters. The student finds it difficult to recognise them; and indeed, unless familiar with their habits, it is not easy for any one to distinguish them at first sight, nor can the observer be sure of the species, without paying very close attention to their notes, and the various peculiarities of their manners. Even my learned friend NUTTALL has supposed that my _Muscicapa Traillii_, and GMELIN'S _M. acadica_, are the same, and has expressed his doubts as to the differences between the latter and the smaller species mentioned above, of which I intend, at a future period, to give you some account; although, almost at the same time, he says that he heard a Dark-coloured Flycatcher, apparently larger than that represented in the plate, in the pine forest of South Carolina, which was unknown to him, but which I have established to be the _M. Traillii_. If doubts on the subject exist in the mind of such an observer as NUTTALL, who has examined the species both in the living and dead state, in the very places which these birds frequent, how difficult must it be for a "closet naturalist" to ascertain the true distinctions of these birds, when, having no better samples of the species than some dried skins, perhaps mangled, and certainly distorted, with shrivelled bills and withered feet.
It is in the darkest and most gloomy retreats of the forest that the Wood Pewee is generally to be found, during the season which it spends with us. You may find it, however, lurking for a while in the shade of an overgrown orchard; or, as autumn advances, you may see it gleaning the benumbed insects over the slimy pools, or gliding on the outskirts of the woods, when, for the last time, the piping notes of the Bullfrog are heard mingling with its own plaintive notes. In all these places, it exhibits the simplicity and freedom of its natural habits, dashing after the insects on which it principally feeds, with a remarkable degree of inattention to surrounding objects. Its sallies have also the appearance of being careless, although at times protracted, when it seems to seize several insects in succession, the more so perhaps that it has no rival to contend with in such situations. Sometimes towards autumn, it sweeps so closely over the pools that it is enabled to seize the insects as they float on the water; while, at other times, and as if in surprise, it rises to the tops of the forest trees, and snaps the insect which is just launching forth on some extensive journey, with all the freedom of flight that the bird itself possesses.
The weary traveller, who at this season wanders from his path in search of water to quench his thirst, or to repose for a while in the shade, is sure to be saluted with the melancholy song of this little creature, which, perched erect on a withered twig, its wings quivering as if it had been seized with a momentary chill, pours forth its rather low, mellow notes with such sweetness as is sure to engage the attention. Few other birds are near; and, should the more musical song of a Wood-thrush come on his ear, he may conceive himself in a retreat where no danger is likely to assail him during his repose.
This species, which is considerably more abundant than the _M. fusca_, is rather late in entering the Middle States, seldom reaching Pennsylvania until the 10th of May; yet it pushes its migrations quite beyond the limits of the United States. On the one hand, many of them spend the winter months in the most Southern States, such as Louisiana and the pine barrens of Florida, feeding on different berries, as well as insects; while, on the other, I have met with them in September, in the British province of New Brunswick, and observed their retrograde movements through Maine and Massachusetts. I have also seen some near Halifax, but neither in Labrador nor Newfoundland did I find an individual.
In autumn, when its notes are almost the only ones heard, it may often be seen approaching the roads and pathways, or even flitting among the tall and beautiful elms in the vicinity, or in the midst of our eastern cities. There you may observe the old birds teaching the young how to procure their food. The various groups, imperceptibly as it were, and in the most peaceable manner, now remove southward by day; and, at this season, their notes are heard at a very late hour, as in early spring. They may be expressed by the syllables _pē-wēe_, _pettowēe_, _pēe-wēe_, prolonged like the last sighs of a despondent lover, or rather like what you might imagine such sighs to be, it being, I believe, rare actually to hear them.
This species, in common with the Great Crested Flycatcher, and the Least Wood Pewee, is possessed of a peculiarity of vision, which enables it to see and pursue its prey with certainty, when it is so dark that you cannot perceive the bird, and are rendered aware of its occupation only by means of the clicking of its bill.
The nest of the Wood Pewee is as delicate in its form and structure, as the bird is in the choice of the materials which it uses in its construction. In almost every case, I have found it well fastened to the upper part of a horizontal branch, without any apparent preference being given to particular trees. Were it not that the bird generally discloses its situation, it would be difficult to discover it, for it is shallow, well saddled to the branch, and connected with it by an extension of the lichens forming its outer coat, in such a manner as to induce a person seeing it to suppose it merely a swelling of the branch. These lichens are glued together apparently by the saliva of the bird, and are neatly lined with very fine grasses, the bark of vines, and now and then a few horse-hairs. The eggs are four or five, of a light yellowish hue, dotted and blotched with reddish at the larger end. It raises two broods in a season in Virginia and Pennsylvania, but rarely more than one in the Northern States. By the middle of August the young are abroad; and it is then that the birds seem more inclined to remove from the interior of the forest.
Although less pugnacious than the larger Flycatchers, it is yet very apt to take offence when any other bird approaches its stand, or appears near its nest.
In its ordinary flight the Wood Pewee passes through the gloom of the forest, at a small elevation, in a horizontal direction, moving the wings rapidly, and sweeping suddenly to the right or left, or darting upwards, after its prey, with the most perfect ease. During the love season, it often flies, with a vibratory motion of the wings, so very slowly that one might suppose it about to poise itself in the air. On such occasions its notes are guttural, and are continued for several seconds as a low twitter.
MUSCICAPA VIRENS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 327.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 68.
WOOD PEWEE, MUSCICAPA RAPAX, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 81. pl. 13. fig. 5.—_Nuttall_, Manual, p. 285.
Adult Male. Plate CXV.
Bill of ordinary length, straight, depressed at the base; upper mandible with the sides somewhat convex, the edges sharp, the tip slightly declinate, and having a small notch on each side; nostrils small, rounded, nearly concealed. The head is rather large, but the whole form is light. Feet of ordinary length; tarsus slender, compressed, anteriorly scutellate, acute behind; toes free, small, the two side ones about equal; claws slender, slightly arched, compressed, acute.
Plumage soft, blended, tufty; the feathers of the head capable of being raised into a longish tuft or crest; basirostral bristles distinct; wings of ordinary length; the second quill longest, first shorter than third, and longer than sixth; tail rather long, distinctly emarginate, or forked, of twelve broad, obliquely pointed feathers.
Bill dusky above, pale yellowish-brown beneath. Iris brown. Feet light brown. The general colour of the upper parts is brownish-olive; the upper part of the head much darker, inclining to brownish-black; a pale greyish ring encircles the eye; two narrow bands of the same colour cross the wing, one formed by the tips of the lesser coverts, the other by those of the greater secondary coverts; the secondary quills are margined externally with paler; the throat and breast are ash-grey, tinged with green, the rest of the lower parts pale greenish yellow.
Length 6½ inches, extent of wings 11; bill along the ridge 7/12, along the edge ¾; tarsus 8/12.
THE SWAMP HONEYSUCKLE.
AZALEA VISCOSA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. i. p. 831. _Pursh_, Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 153. PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._ RHODODENDRA, _Juss._
The leaves of this species of Azalea are oblongo-obovate, acute, smooth on both sides; the flowers white, sweet-scented, with a very short calyx. It grows abundantly in almost every district of the United States, in such localities as are suited to it, namely, low damp meadows, swamps, and shady woods.
THE FORCE OF THE WATERS.
The men who are employed in cutting down the trees, and conveying the logs to the saw-mills or the places for shipping, are, in the State of Maine, called "Lumberers." Their labours may be said to be continual. Before winter has commenced, and while the ground is yet uncovered with a great depth of snow, they leave their homes to proceed to the interior of the pine forests, which in that part of the country are truly magnificent, and betake themselves to certain places already well known to them. Their provisions, axes, saws, and other necessary articles, together with provender for their cattle, are conveyed by oxen in heavy sledges. Almost at the commencement of their march, they are obliged to enter the woods, and they have frequently to cut a way for themselves, for considerable spaces, as the ground is often covered with the decaying trunks of immense trees, which have fallen either from age, or in consequence of accidental burnings. These trunks, and the undergrowth which lies entangled in their tops, render many places almost impassable even to men on foot. Over miry ponds they are sometimes forced to form causeways, this being, under all circumstances, the easiest mode of reaching the opposite side. Then, reader, is the time for witnessing the exertions of their fine large cattle. No rods do their drivers use to pain their flanks; no oaths or imprecations are ever heard to fall from the lips of these most industrious and temperate men, for in them, as indeed in most of the inhabitants of our Eastern States, education and habit have tempered the passions and reduced the moral constitution to a state of harmony. Nay, the sobriety that exists in many of the villages of Maine, I acknowledge I have often considered as carried to excess, for on asking for brandy, rum or whisky, not a drop could I obtain, and it is probable there was an equal lack of spirituous liquors of every other kind. Now and then I saw some good old wines, but they were always drunk in careful moderation. But to return to the management of the oxen. Why, reader, the lumberers speak to them as if they were rational beings. Few words seem to suffice, and their whole strength is applied to the labour, as if in gratitude to those who treat them with so much gentleness and humanity.
While present on more than one occasion at what Americans call "ploughing matches," which they have annually in many of the States, I have been highly gratified, and in particular at one, of which I still have a strong recollection, and which took place a few miles from the fair and hospitable city of Boston. There I saw fifty or more ploughs drawn by as many pairs of oxen, which performed their work with so much accuracy and regularity, without the infliction of whip or rod, but merely guided by the verbal mandates of the ploughmen, that I was perfectly astonished.
After surmounting all obstacles, the lumberers with their stock arrive at the spot which they have had in view, and immediately commence building a camp. The trees around soon fall under the blows of their axes, and before many days have elapsed, a low habitation is reared and fitted within for the accommodation of their cattle, while their provender is secured on a kind of loft covered with broad shingles or boards. Then their own cabin is put up; rough bedsteads, manufactured on the spot, are fixed in the corners; a chimney, composed of a frame of sticks plastered with mud, leads away the smoke; the skins of bears or deer, with some blankets, form their bedding, and around the walls are hung their changes of home-spun clothing, guns, and various necessaries of life. Many prefer spending the night on the sweet-scented hay and corn-blades of their cattle, which are laid on the ground. All arranged within, the lumberers set their "dead-falls," large "steel-traps," and "spring-guns," in suitable places around their camp, to procure some of the bears that ever prowl around such establishments.
Now the heavy clouds of November, driven by the northern blasts, pour down the snow in feathery flakes. The winter has fairly set in, and seldom do the sun's gladdening rays fall on the wood-cutter's hut. In warm flannels his body is enveloped, the skin of a racoon covers his head and brow, his moose-skin leggins reach the girdle that secures them around his waist, while on broad moccasins, or snow-shoes, he stands from the earliest dawn until night, hacking away at the majestic pines that for a century past have embellished the forest. The fall of these valuable trees no longer resounds on the ground; and, as they tumble here and there, nothing is heard but the rustling and crackling of their branches, their heavy trunks sinking into the deep snows. Thousands of large pines thus cut down every winter afford room for the younger trees, which spring up profusely to supply the wants of man.
Weeks and weeks have elapsed; the earth's pure white covering has become thickly and firmly crusted by the increasing intensity of the cold, the fallen trees have all been sawn into measured logs, and the long repose of the oxen has fitted them for hauling them to the nearest frozen streams. The ice gradually becomes covered with the accumulating mass of timber, and, their task completed, the lumberers wait impatiently for the breaking up of the winter.
At this period, they pass the time in hunting the moose, the deer, and the bear, for the benefit of their wives and children; and as these men are most excellent woodsmen, great havoc is made among the game. Many skins of sables, martins, and musk-rats they have procured during the intervals of their labour, or under night. The snows are now giving way, as the rains descend in torrents, and the lumberers collect their utensils, harness their cattle, and prepare for their return. This they accomplish in safety.
From being lumberers they now become millers, and with pleasure each applies the grating file to his saws. Many logs have already reached the dams on the swollen waters of the rushing streams, and the task commences, which is carried on through the summer, of cutting them up into boards.
The great heats of the dog-days have parched the ground; every creek has become a shallow, except here and there, where in a deep hole the salmon and the trout have found a retreat; the sharp slimy angles of multitudes of rocks project, as if to afford resting places to the wood-ducks and herons that breed on the borders of these streams. Thousands of "saw logs" remain in every pool, beneath and above each rapid or fall. The miller's dam has been emptied of its timber, and he must now resort to some expedient to procure a fresh supply.
It was my good fortune to witness the method employed for the purpose of collecting the logs that had not reached their destination, and I had the more pleasure that it was seen in company with my little family. I wish for your sake, reader, that I could describe in an adequate manner the scene which I viewed; but, although not so well qualified as I could wish, rely upon it, that the desire which I feel to gratify you, will induce me to use all my endeavours to give you an _idea_ of it.
It was the month of September. At the upper extremity of Dennisville, which is itself a pretty village, are the saw-mills and ponds of the hospitable Judge Lincoln and other persons. The creek that conveys the logs to these ponds, and which bears the name of the village, is interrupted in its course by many rapids and narrow embanked gorges. One of the latter is situated about half a mile above the mill-dams, and is so rocky and rugged in its bottom and sides, as to preclude the possibility of the trees passing along it at low water, while, as I conceived, it would have given no slight labour to an army of woodsmen or millers, to move the thousands of large logs that had accumulated in it. They lay piled in confused heaps to a great height along an extent of several hundred yards, and were in some places so close as to have formed a kind of dam. Above the gorge there is a large natural reservoir, in which the head waters of the creek settle, while only a small portion of them ripples through the gorge below, during the latter weeks of summer and in early autumn, when the streams are at their lowest.
At the _neck_ of this basin, the lumberers raised a temporary barrier with the refuse of their sawn logs. The boards were planted nearly upright and supported at their tops by a strong tree extended from side to side of the creek, which might there be about forty feet in breadth. It was prevented from giving way under the pressure of the rising waters, by having strong abutments of wood laid against its centre, while the ends of these abutments were secured by wedges, which could be knocked off when necessary.
The temporary dam was now finished. Little or no water escaped through the barrier, and that in the creek above it rose in the course of three weeks to its top, which was about ten feet high, forming a sheet that extended upwards fully a mile from the dam. My family was invited early one morning, to go and witness the extraordinary effect which would be produced by the breaking down of the barrier, and we all accompanied the lumberers to the place. Two of the men, on reaching it, threw off their jackets, tied handkerchiefs round their heads, and fastened to their bodies a long rope, the end of which was held by three or four others, who stood ready to drag their companions ashore, in case of danger or accident. The two operators, each bearing an axe, walked along the abutments, and at a given signal, knocked out the wedges. A second blow from each sent off the abutments themselves, and the men, leaping with extreme dexterity from one cross log to another, sprung to the shore with almost the quickness of thought.
Scarcely had they effected their escape from the frightful peril that threatened them, when the mass of waters burst forth with a horrible uproar. All eyes were bent towards the huge heaps of logs in the gorge below. The tumultuous burst of the waters instantly swept away every object that opposed their progress, and rushed in foaming waves among the timber that every where blocked up the passage. Presently a slow, heavy motion was perceived in the mass of logs; one might have imagined that some mighty monster lay convulsively writhing beneath them, struggling with a fearful energy to extricate himself from the crushing weight. As the waters rose, this movement increased; the mass of timber extended in all directions, appearing to become more and more entangled each moment; the logs bounced against each other, thrusting aside, demersing, or raising into the air those with which they came in contact:—it seemed as if they were waging a war of destruction, such as ancient authors describe the efforts of the Titans, the foamings of whose wrath might to the eye of the painter have been represented by the angry curlings of the waters, while the tremulous and rapid motions of the logs, which at times reared themselves almost perpendicularly, might by the poet have been taken for the shakings of the confounded and discomfited giants.
Now the rushing element filled up the gorge to its brim. The logs, once under way, rolled, reared, tossed and tumbled amid the foam, as they were carried along. Many of the smaller trees broke across, from others great splinters were sent up, and all were in some degree seamed and scarred. Then in tumultuous majesty swept along the mingled wreck, the current being now increased to such a pitch, that the logs as they were dashed against the rocky shores, resounded like the report of distant artillery, or the angry rumblings of the thunder. Onward it rolls, the emblem of wreck and ruin, destruction and chaotic strife. It seemed to me as if I witnessed the rout of a vast army, surprised, overwhelmed, and overthrown. The roar of the cannon, the groans of the dying, and the shouts of the avengers, were thundering through my brain; and amid the frightful confusion of the scene, there came over my spirit a melancholy feeling, which had not entirely vanished at the end of many days.
In a few hours, almost all the timber that had lain heaped in the rocky gorge, was floating in the great pond of the millers; and as we walked homewards, we talked of the _Force of the Waters_.
THE FERRUGINOUS THRUSH.
_TURDUS RUFUS_, LINN.
PLATE CXVI. MALE, FEMALE, AND NEST.
Reader, look attentively at the plate before you, and say if such a scene as that which I have attempted to portray, is not calculated to excite the compassion of any one who is an admirer of woodland melody, or who sympathizes with the courageous spirit which the male bird shews, as he defends his nest, and exerts all his powers to extricate his beloved mate from the coils of the vile snake which has already nearly deprived her of life. Another male of the same species, answering the call of despair from his "fellow creature," comes swiftly downwards to rescue the sufferers. With open bill he is already prepared to strike a vengeful blow at the reptile, his bright eye glancing hatred at his foe. See a third grappling with the snake, and with all its might tearing the skin from its body! Should this alliance of noble spirits prove victorious, will it not remind you that innocence, although beset with difficulties, may, with the aid of friendship, extricate herself with honour?
The birds in the case represented were greatly the sufferers: their nest was upset, their eggs lost, and the life of the female in imminent danger. But the snake was finally conquered, and a jubilee held over its carcass by a crowd of thrushes and other birds, until the woods resounded with their notes of exultation. I was happy in contributing my share to the general joy, for, on taking the almost expiring bird into my hand for a few minutes, she recovered in some degree, and I restored her to her anxious mate.
The Brown Thrush, or Thrasher, by which names the bird is generally known, may be said to be a constant resident in the United States, as immense numbers are found all the year round in Louisiana, the Floridas, Georgia, and the Carolinas. Indeed some spend the winter in Virginia and Maryland. During spring and summer they are met with in all our Eastern States. They also enter the British provinces, and are sometimes seen in Nova Scotia; but I observed none farther north. It is the most numerous species found in the Union, excepting the Robin or Migratory Thrush. Those which breed in the Middle and Eastern Districts return to the south about the beginning of October, having been absent fully six months from that genial region, where more than half of the whole number remain at all seasons. They migrate by day, and singly, never congregating, notwithstanding their abundance. They fly low, or skip from one bush to another, their longest flight seldom exceeding the breadth of a field or river. They seem to move rather heavily, on account of the shortness of their wings, the concavity of which usually produces a rustling sound, and they travel very silently.
No sooner has the bird reached its destined abode, than whenever a fair morning occurs, it mounts the topmost twig of a detached tree, and pours forth its loud, richly varied, and highly melodious song. It scarcely possesses the faculty of imitation, but is a steady performer; and, although it sings for hours at a time, seldom, if ever, commits errors while repeating the beautiful lessons set to it by Nature, all of which it studies for months during spring and summer. Ah! reader, that I could repeat to you its several cadences, all so full of sweetness and melody, that one might imagine each last trill, as it dies on the ear, the careful lullaby of some blessed mother chanting her babe to repose;—that I could imitate its loudest notes, surpassed only by those of that unrivalled vocalist, the Mocking Bird! But, alas! it is impossible for me to convey to you the charms of the full song of the Brown Thrush; you must go to its own woods and there listen to it. In the southern districts, it now and then enlivens the calm of autumnal days by its song, but it is generally silent after the breeding season.
The actions of this species during the period of courtship are very curious, the male often strutting before the female with his tail trailing on the ground, moving gracefully round her, in the manner of some pigeons, and while perched and singing in her presence, vibrating his body with vehemence. In Louisiana, the Brown Thrush builds its nest as early as the beginning of March; in the Middle Districts rarely before the middle of May; while in Maine, it seldom has it finished before June. It is placed without much care in a briar bush, a sumach, or the thickest parts of a low tree, never in the interior of the forest, but most commonly in the bramble patches which are every where to be met with along the fences or the abandoned old fields. Sometimes it is laid flat on the ground. Although the bird is abundant in the barrens of Kentucky, in which and in similar places it seems to delight, it has seldom been known to breed there. In the Southern States the nest is frequently found close to the house of the planter, along with that of the Mocking Bird. To the eastward, where the denseness of the population renders the bird more shy, the nest is placed with more care. But wherever it is situated, you find it large, composed externally of dry twigs, briars, or other small sticks, imbedded in and mixed with dried leaves, coarse grass, and other such materials, thickly lined with fibrous roots, horse hair, and sometimes rags and feathers. The eggs are from four to six, of a pale dull buff colour, thickly sprinkled with dots of brown. Two broods are usually raised in the Southern States, but rarely more than one in the Middle and Northern Districts.
They breed well in aviaries, and are quite tractable in a closer state of confinement. The young are raised in the same manner, and with the same food, as those of the Mocking Bird. In cages it sings well, and has much of the movements of the latter bird, being full of activity, petulant, and occasionally apt to peck in resentment at the hand which happens to approach it. The young begin their musical studies in autumn, repeating passages with as much zeal as ever did Paganini. By the following spring their full powers of song are developed.
My friend BACHMAN, who has raised many of these birds, has favoured me with the following particulars respecting them:—"Though good-humoured towards the person who feeds them, they are always savage towards all other kinds of birds. I placed three sparrows in the cage of a Thrush one evening, and found them killed, as well as nearly stripped of their feathers, the next morning. So perfectly gentle did this bird become, that when I opened its cage, it would follow me about the yard and the garden. The instant it saw me take a spade or a hoe, it would follow at my heels, and, as I turned up the earth, would pick up every insect or worm thus exposed to its view. I kept it for three years, and its affection for me at last cost it its life. It usually slept on the back of my chair, in my study, and one night the door being accidentally left open, it was killed by a cat. I once knew a few of these birds remain the whole of a mild winter in the State of New York, in a wild state."
The Brown or Ferruginous Thrush is the strongest of the genus in the United States, neither the Mocking Bird, nor the Robin being able to cope with it. Like the former, it will chase the cat or the dog, and greatly tease the racoon or the fox. It follows the _Falco Cooperii_ and the Goshawk, bidding them defiance, and few snakes come off with success when they attack its nest. It is remarkable also, that, although these birds have frequent and severe conflicts among themselves, yet when the least alarm is given by an individual, a whole party of them instantly rush forth to assist in chasing off the common enemy. When two nests happen to be placed near each other, the males are seen to fight furiously, and are joined by the females. On such occasions, the males approach each other with much caution, spreading out, and often jerking up, down, or to either side, their long fan-like tail, generally betaking themselves to the ground, and uttering a note of defiance, until one of them, perceiving some advantage afforded by its position or some other circumstance, rushes to the charge. The attack once fairly made, the fight seldom ends until one has beaten the other, after which the vanquished rarely attempts to retaliate, and peace is made between the
## parties. They are fond of bathing and of dusting themselves in the sand
of the roads. They bathe in small puddles during the heat of the sun, and then remove to the sandy paths, where they roll themselves, dry their plumage, and free it of insects. When disturbed on these occasions, they merely run off and hide themselves under the nearest bushes, to return as soon as the intruder has retired.
During the period of incubation, the male is heard from the top of a neighbouring tree, singing for hours at a time. It ascends to this pinnacle by leaping from branch to branch, and selects several trees for the purpose, none of them more than a hundred yards from the nest. Its song over, it dives towards its favourite thicket, seldom descending by the assistance of the branches. Both male and female sit on the eggs. Their mutual attachment, and their courage in defending their nest, are well known to children living in the country. They resent the intrusion even of man, assaulting him, and emitting a strong guttural note resembling _tchai, tchai_, accompanied by a plaintive _weō_, and continued until the enemy retires. Should he carry off their treasure, he is sure to be followed a great way, perhaps half a mile, both birds continually crossing his path, and bestowing on him the reproaches he so richly deserves.
The food of this Thrush, which is also known by the name of French Mocking Bird, consists of insects, worms, berries, and fruits of all sorts. It is fond of figs, and wherever ripe pears are, there also may it be found. In winter, they resort to the berries of the dogwood, the sumach, and holly, and ascend to the tops of the tallest trees in search of grapes. At this season, they are easily caught in traps, and many are exposed for sale in the southern markets, although few of the old birds live long in captivity. Some planters complain of their propensity to scratch the ground for the purpose of picking up the newly planted corn; but I am of opinion that the scratching has reference exclusively to worms or beetles, their strong legs and feet being well adapted for this purpose; and, generally speaking, they are great favourites, as they commit few depredations on the crops.
This species, as well as the Robin and some others of this genus, suffer greatly during the autumnal moults, and when in cages at this season, become almost naked of feathers. The young acquire the full beauty of their plumage during the first winter.
TURDUS RUFUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 293.—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 338.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 75.
FERRUGINOUS THRUSH, TURDUS RUFUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 83. pl. 14. fig. 1.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol. i. p. 328.
ORPHEUS RUFUS, FOX-COLOURED MOCK-BIRD, _Swains. and Richards._ Fauna Boreali-Amer.