LIBRARY

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MUSEUM OF COMPARATIVE ZOOLOGY
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WILLIAM BREWSTER

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CABINET

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AMBRIGAN RURAL §PORTS,

97 G Ste

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

A MONTHLY PUBLICATION.

VOL. III.

AHUATeInHta :
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOUGHTY, NO. 5, LIBRARY STREET, ABOVE FOURTH.

WILLIAM STAVELY, PRINTER.

INDEX

TO THE

FIRST NUMBER, VOLUME

Prats I. The Beaver.

The Beaver, | = = = 5 - :
Grotto deb Caries |) - - - = -
Obseryations on Ignis Fatuus—by Rey. John Mitchell, -
A new property of the fetid matter of the Skunk, -

Test of the Percussion Principle, = =

Pzate II. Wild Turkey.

The Wild Turkey, - - = : 4
A Hunting Excursion on one of the Cordilleras, -
Game Laws of Maryland, - > = .
‘¢The Honest Angler,” - = é 5
Curious Contest between a Ferret and a Polecat,
The Speed and Strength of the Ostrich, - -
Instructions to Young Sportsmen, No. VII. - -

IIl.

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THE

CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AND

AMBRBIGAN BURBAL SPORTS.

THE BEAVER.
CASTOR FIBER.

[Vou. III. Prare I.)

Castor Fiber, Gopman, vol. ii. p. 21. SaBINE, app. p.
659. Say. Lone’s Expedition to the Rocky Moun-
tains, i. p. 464.—Le Castor ou le Biévre, Briss. Regn.
an. p.133.—Le Castor, Burr. viii. pl. 36.—Philadelphia
Museum.

Tuer is no animal, native of North America, so in-
teresting and valuable as the Beaver; and it is equally
certain, that few animals of the world have been so much
admired and extolled, and, at the same time, have had so
large a share of intelligence imputed to them more unjust-
ly. But, with all the importance attached to the animal,
how much ignorance exists of its true character.

If we examine the opinions of men on this subject, we
see at once how deeply wrong impressions have become
rooted by pondering over the fictitious histories of the
Beayer,—or more particularly being influenced, in early
youth, by the fabulous stories of the animal, framed as
truth, and admitted into the various seminaries of learn-
ing. Here we find the Beaver placed at the head of all
inferior creatures for sagacity and intelligence, and en-
dowed with intellectual qualities superior to many nations
or tribes of human beings.

This undoubtedly is error, and to overturn it must be
the work of time and truth, by the introduction, into
schools and families, of authentic histories of the animal,

It is, however, no trifling undertaking, to establish
truth on prejudicial error, or attack the writings of the
learned and eloquent, which have filled the world with
theories or false statements, wrought up by ingenuity to
almost sublimity.

Among the modern writers on Natural History, none
seems to have exerted so general an influence as the

A

«‘Count Burron,” who appears to have been regarded,
by most of his successors, as authority substantial and in-
dubitable. Under these impressions, many writers have
quoted his history of the Beaver, and transmitted it
through successive years to the present time, with little
contradiction. Among those who followed Buffon’s track,
may be named Pznnanv, author of the British and Arctic
Zoology, who, in the ‘‘history of his quadrupeds has
transcribed the whole of his observations on the habits of
the Beaver, from Buffon.’’? Smexutm, also, in his Philoso-
phy of Natural History, (a work now used in many
schools both in England and America,) has quoted the
same author verbatim. Among the opponents of the
foregoing author, and indeed of most other writers on the
subject of the Beaver, the most formidable is Hearne,
whose testimony will be adduced in the sequel of this
treatise, and Capt. G. Carrwrigent, in his journal of trans-
actions, d&c. on the Labrador coast, published in 1792.
Dr. Gopman, also, attacks the same with the following
severe remarks:—‘‘ Who has not heard of the wonderful
sagacity of the Beaver, or listened to > laboured ac-
counts of its social and rational nature. Who that has
read the impassioned eloquence of Buffon, to which nothing
is. wanting but truth in order to render it sublime, can
forget the impression which his views of the economy and
character of this species produced ? The enchanter waves
his wand, and converts animals, congregated by instinct
alone, and guided by no moral influence, into social, ra-
tional, intelligent beings, superior to creatures high above
them in organization, and even far more advanced than
vast tribes of that race which has been justly and em-
phatically termed ‘lords of creation.’ Alas, for all these
air-drawn prospects! while we endeavour to gaze upon
their beauties, they fleet away, and leave no trace behind.”

Many living witnesses can also be produced, whose evi-
dence is derived from actual observation, against the
falsity of those statements of the habits of the Beaver,
which heretofore have only been regarded in the light of
authenticity.

2 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, f

The writer of Natural History should be guided by
truth in all of his descriptions, carefully avoiding every
thing to which he was not an eye-witness, or that cannot
be established by the most indubitable testimony; and
leave nothing to fancy, or the workings of an enthu-
siastic imagination. It is only by the impress of truth,
that the mind receives essential benefit, and the more
perfect mankind become in the knowledge of animals of
the inferior world, the better are they enabled to appre-
ciate their own exalted being.

There is much to admire, not only in the Beaver, but
in all other inferior animals; but our admiration should
not be extended to the creature so much, as to the great
Original who governs them in their actions in a sphere
far above their consciousness.

Although the Beaver exhibits much sagacity, and cer-

“tainly immense labour and perseverance, in the construc-

tion of dams and habitations, and forethought for winter
provision,—yet we see the same power operating on
many other animals, on a scale equal, if not superior.
What do we see more to admire than the nidification of
birds? This instinctive provision for their young, is ac-
commodated by the parent birds to every place and cir-
cumstance, and, built of the most simple materials, their
little nests defy the art of man to imitate them.

et Mark it well; within, without:

No tool had they that wrought, no knife to cut,
No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert,

No glue to join; their little beaks were all ;
And yet how neatly finished. What nice hands,
And twenty years’ apprenticeship to boot,

Could make me such another ?”

The wonderful mechanism of the spider’s web,—the
wariness and certainty which that insect displays in en-
trapping its victim, —and the wholeeconomy of the honey-
bee, have been regarded as so many wonders of the natu-
ral world. But are all these guided by any other power
than that of pure instinct? Certainly not, as regards
their consciousness.

In regard to the nature of instinct, it may be said, that
the mind is too often led astray by wrong objects—or by
forming a wrong basis for argument. For instance, we
sometimes see a departure from the regular laws of instinct
in animals around us,—as in the elephant, the horse, the
dog; &c. In these are frequently exhibited apparent sa-
gacity, memory, discernment, and other reasonable ope-
rations. But before we conclude from this, that the brute
creation possess intellectual properties, we should inquire,
what effect has the influence of man, or domestication, on
them from which we would found our argument? It is

to these, and other animals of like domestication, that
recourse is always had, to prove the brute world possesses
reason as well as instinct. Those animals, therefore, sub-
ject to domestication, are not proper objects from which
to draw that conclusion; for it is evident, that these were
originally intended for purposes connected with the
comforts and welfare of mankind,—and the formation of
their instinctive powers are such, as to be subject to his
influence and guidance. Indeed, we see a wonderful in-
fluence exerted by human presence on all nature; and, as
we are told in sacred writ, that God hath placed in
all beasts the fear of man, it is reasonable to conclude,
that the intelligence of the human species, imparted in a
measure by association to the sagacity of those animals,
often produces effects on them, which lead to results aston-
ishing and wonderful. 5

Aside from these animals, over which man has exercised
his influence, we behold all others governed by laws of
necessity, which impel them in their course of operations,
only to answer the end for which they were originally de-
signed in a state of nature. The same potent energy
which created, also guides them in those wonderful
plans of necessity which we so much admire; and, al-
though they are thus influenced and directed by a supe-
rior intelligent power, they have no consciousness of
this exciting energy, nor can they appreciate the result
of their labours, or yalue the interest attached to their ac-
tions.

Under this view, then, it may be said, that brutes only
belong to the natural world; or, in other words, not pos-
sessing moral qualities, they do not belong to the moral
world. They have no moral freedom of action, although
they produce results often which would lead us, under a
wrong view of the subject, to draw a different conclusion.
Instances may be produced of actions in the dog, more
moral or perfect, in an abstract sense, than those per-
formed by human creatures; but we cannot for a moment
admit that these are efforts of their own consciousness, un-
less we place them in a scale of moral excellence superior
to man. But these actions are only apparently moral, .as
regards their conception, and not really so; for these ani-
mals are not capable of appreciating the excellence of their
acts, nor to decide of their superiority over those of other
brutes. Intelligence, moral actions, and science, there-
fore, are not objective to brutes, but are exercised on their
natures by a governing power, above their perception or
consciousness.

Having made these prefatory remarks, the history of
the Beaver, in the form of a parallel, will be given, the
authentic on one side, and the discarded or fabulous on
the other.

-MERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 3

z to the na-
he water in
m is almost
it is always
the stream.
drift-wood,
be got; also
as must evi-
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ved, except
ular sweep,

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;, become a
ith of water
1 generally
ma kind of
iome places
among the

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habit lakes,
2eks which
us country
en by them
2es are suit-
rent to con-
tations, and
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sta ond, river,

a or building

they some-

ULMLES VULLU UIE PULLILS, SUIMCLIIUES LIL LLG 1L01LL0W of a bay,

and often on small islands; they always choose, however,

those parts that have such a depth of water as will resist

the frost of winter, and prevent it from freezing to the
bottom.

«<The Beaver that build their houses in small rivers
or creeks, in which the water is liable to be drained off
when the back supplies are dried up by the frost, are won-
derfully taught by instinct to provide against that evil, by
making a dam quite across the river, at a convenient dis-
tance from their houses. This I look upon as the most
curious piece of workmanship that is performed by the
Beaver; not so much for the neatness of the work, as for
its strength and real service; and at the same time it dis-
Covers such a degree of sagacity and foresight in the
animal, of approaching evils, as is little inferior to that

FICTITIOUS HISTORY OF THE BEAVER.

‘In the operation of constructing their dams, some
Beavers are engaged in cutting down large trees for the
purpose, while others traverse the vicinity of the river and
cut smaller trees, some as thick as one’s leg, and others as
large as the thigh. They trim these and gnaw them in two
at acertain height to make stakes: they bring these pieces
first by land to the edge of the stream, and there float them
to the dam; they then form a sort of close piling, which is
still farther strengthened by interlacing the branches be-
tween the stakes. This operation supposes many difficul-
ties vanquished; for to prepare these stakes, and place them
ina nearly perpendicular situation, they must raise the large
end of the stake upon the bank of the river, or against a
tree thrown across it, while others at the same time plunge
into the water and dig a hole with their fore feet for the
purpose of receiving the point of the stake or pile, in or-
der to sustain it erect. In proportion as some thus plant
the piles, others bring earth, which they temper with their
fore-feet and beat with their tails; they carry it in their
mouths and with their fore-feet, and convey so large a
quantity that they fill all the intervals of the piling. This
pile work is composed of several ranges of stakes of equal
height, all planted against each other, extending from one
side of the river to the other; it is piled and plastered
throughout. The piles are planted vertically on the side
next the water-fall; the whole work is sloping on the side
sustaining the pressure, so that the dam, which is ten or
twelve feet wide at base, is only two or three feet. thick at
the summit. It has therefore not only all the solidity ne-
cessary, but the most convenient form for raising the wa-
ter, preventing it from escaping, sustaining its weight, and
breaking its violence. At the topof the dam, that is at the
thinnest part, they make two or three sloped openings for
the discharge of the superfluous water, and these are en-
larged or closed up as the river swells or diminishes, &c.

<¢ It would be superfluous after such an exposition of their
public works, to give a detail of their private edifices, if in
a history it were not necessary to relate ail the facts, and
if this first great work were not done with a view to render
their little dwellings more commodious. These dwellings
are cabins, or rather little houses, built in the water on
close piles, near the edge of the pond, having two doors or
issues, one on the land and the other on the water side.
Sometimes they are found to have two or three stories,
the walls being as much as two feet thick, elevated perpen-
dicularly upon the piles which serve at the same time for
the foundation and floor of the house, &c. The walls are
covered with a sort of stucco, so well tempered, and so
properly applied, that it appears as if it had been done by

2 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HIS

The writer of Natural History should be guided by
truth in all of his descriptions, carefully avoiding every
thing to which he was not an eye-witness, or that cannot
be established by the most indubitable testimony; and
leave nothing to fancy, or the workings of an enthu-
siastic imagination. It is only by the impress of truth,
that the mind receives essential benefit, and the more
perfect mankind become in the knowledge of animals of
the inferior world, the better are they enabled to appre-
ciate their own exalted being.

There is much to admire, not only in the Beaver, but
in all other inferior animals; but our admiration should
not be extended to the creature so much, as to the great
Original who governs them in their actions in a sphere
far above their consciousness.

Although the Beaver exhibits much sagacity, and cer-

‘tainly immense labour and perseverance, in the construc-

tion of dams and habitations, and forethought for winter
provision,—yet we see the same power operating on
many other animals, on a scale equal, if not superior.
What do we see more to admire than the nidification of
birds? This instinctive provision for their young, is ac-
commodated by the parent birds to every place and cir-
cumstance, and, built of the most simple materials, their
little nests defy the art of man to imitate them.

5

Mark it well; within, without:

No tool had they that wrought, no knife to cut,
No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert,

No glue to join; their little beaks were all ;
And yet how neatly finished. What nice hands,
And twenty years’ apprenticeship to boot,

Could make me such another ?”

The wonderful mechanism of the spider’s web,—the
wariness and certainty which that insect displays in en-
trapping its victim,—and the wholeeconomy of the honey-
bee, have been regarded as so many wonders of the natu-
ral world. But are all these guided by any other power
than that of pure instinct? Certainly not, as regards
their consciousness.

In regard to the nature of instinct, it may be said, that
the mind is too often led astray by wrong objects—or by
forming a wrong basis for argument. For instance, we
sometimes see a departure from the regular laws of instinct
in animals around us,—as in the elephant, the horse, the
dog; &c. In these are frequently exhibited apparent sa-
gacity, memory, discernment, and other reasonable ope-
rations. But before we conclude from this, that the brute
creation possess intellectual properties, we should inquire,
what effect has the influence of man, or domestication, on
them from which we would found our argument? It is

to these, ani
recourse is a
reason as we
ject to dome:
to draw that
originally in
comforts anc
their instine!
influence an
fluence exer!
we are tolc
all beasts tl
that the inte
measure by
often produc
ishing and v

Aside frox
his influence:
necessity, vi
only to ansy
signed in a
which creat
plans of nec
though they
rior intellig
this excitin;
of their labe
tions.

Under th
belong to tl
sessing mor
world. Tl
they produ
wrong view
Instances n _
moral or perfect, in an abstract sense, than those per-
formed by human creatures; but we cannot for a moment
admit that these are efforts of their own consciousness, un-
less we place them in a scale of moral excellence superior
to man. But these actions are only apparently moral, :as
regards their conception, and not really so; for these ani-
mals are not capable of appreciating the excellence of their
acts, nor to decide of their superiority over those of other
brutes. Intelligence, moral actions, and science, there-
fore, are not objective to brutes, but are exercised on their
natures by a governing power, above their perception or
consciousness.

Having made these prefatory remarks, the history of
the Beaver, in the form of a paradlel, will be given, the
authentic on one side, and the discarded or fabulous on
the other.

Qlts

AND AMERICAN

AUTHENTIC HISTORY OF THE BEAVER.

¢¢The Beaver dams differ in shape according to the na-
ture of the place in which they are built. If the water in
the river or creek have but little motion, the dam is almost
straight; but when the current is more rapid, it is always

‘made with a considerable curve convex toward the stream.
The materials made use of in those dams are drift-wood,
green willows, birch, and poplars, if they can be got; also
mud and stones, intermixed in such a manner as must evi-
dently contribute to the strength of the dam; but in these
dams there is no other order or method observed, except
that of the work being carried on with a regular sweep,
and all the parts being made of equal strength.

<¢Tn places which have been long frequented by Beaver
undisturbed, their dams, by frequent repairing, become a
solid bank, capable of resisting a great force both of water
and ice; and as the willow, poplar, and birch generally
take root and shoot up, they by degrees form a kind of
regular-planted hedge, which I have seen in some places
so tall, that birds have built their nests among the
branches.

“¢ The situation of the Beaver houses is various. Where
the Beavers are numerous they are found to inhabit lakes,
ponds, and rivers, as well as those narrow creeks which
connect the numerous lakes with which this country
abounds; but the two latter are generally chosen by them
when the depth of water and other circumstances are suit-
able, as they have then the advantage of a current to con-
vey wood and other necessaries to their habitations, and
because, in general they are more difficult to be taken,
than those that are built in standing water.

¢¢ There is no one particular part of a lake, pond, river,
or creek, of which the Beavers make choice for building
their houses on, in preference to another; for they some-
times build on points, sometimes in the hollow of a bay,
and often on small islands; they always choose, however,
those parts that have such a depth of water as will resist
the frost of winter, and prevent it from freezing to the
bottom.

‘¢The Beaver that build their houses in small rivers
or creeks, in which the water is liable to be drained off
when the back supplies are dried up by the frost, are won-
derfully taught by instinct to provide against that evil, by
making a dam quite across the river, at a conyenient dis-
tance from their houses. This I look upon as the most
curious piece of workmanship that is performed by the
Beaver; not so much for the neatness of the work, as for
its strength and real service; and at the same time it dis-
covers such a degree of sagacity and foresight in the
animal, of approaching evils, as is little inferior to that

RURAL SPORTS. 3

FICTITIOUS HISTORY OF THE BEAVER.

‘In the operation of constructing their dams, some
Beavers are engaged in cutting down large trees for the
purpose, while others traverse the vicinity of the river and
cut smaller trees, some as thick as one’s leg, and others as
large as the thigh. They trim these and gnaw them in two
at acertain height to make stakes: they bring these pieces
first by land to the edge of the stream, and there float them
to the dam; they then form a sort of close piling, which is
still farther strengthened by interlacing the branches be-
tween the stakes. This operation supposes many difficul-
ties vanquished; for to prepare these stakes, and place them
in a nearly perpendicular situation, they must raise the large
end of the stake upon the bank of the river, or against a
tree thrown acrossit, while others at the same time plunge
into the water and dig a hole with their fore feet for the
purpose of receiving the point of the stake or pile, in or-
der to sustain it erect. In proportion as some thus plant
the piles, others bring earth, which they temper with their
fore-feet and beat with their tails; they carry it in their
mouths and with their fore-feet, and convey so large a
quantity that they fill all the intervals of the piling. This
pile work is composed of several ranges of stakes of equal
height, all planted against each other, extending from one
side of the river to the other; it is piled and plastered
throughout. The piles are planted vertically on the side
next the water-fall; the whole work is sloping on the side
sustaining the pressure, so that the dam, which is ten or
twelve feet wide at base, is only two or three feet thick at
the summit. It has therefore not only all the solidity ne-
cessary, but the most convenient form for raising the wa-
ter, preventing it from escaping, sustaining its weight, and
breaking its violence. At the topof the dam, that is at the
thinnest part, they make two or three sloped openings for
the discharge of the superfluous water, and these are en-
larged or closed up as the river swells or diminishes, &c.

‘¢ Tt would be superfluous after such an exposition of their
public works, to give a detail of their private edifices, if in
a history it were not necessary to relate adl the facts, and
if this first great work were not done with a view to render
their little dwellings more commodious. These dwellings
are cabins, or rather little houses, built in the water on
close piles, near the edge of the pond, having two doors or
issues, one on the land and the other on the water side.
Sometimes they are found to have two or three stories,
the walls being as much as two feet thick, elevated perpen-
dicularly upon the piles which serve at the same time for
the foundation and floor of the house, &c. The walls are
covered with a sort of stucco, so well tempered, and so
properly applied, that it appears as if it had been done by

AUTHENTIC HISTORY.—Continued.

of the human species, and is certainly peculiar to those
animals.

‘¢ Though the Beaver which build their houses in lakes
and other standing waters, may enjoy a sufficient quantity
of their favourite element without the assistance of a dam,
the trouble of getting wood and other necessaries to their
habitations without the help of a current, must in some
measure counterbalance the other advantages which are
reaped from such a situation; for it must be observed that
the Beaver which build in rivers and creeks, always cut
their wood above their houses, so that the current, with
little trouble, conveys it to the place required.

<‘The Beaver houses are built of the same materials as
their dams, and are always proportioned in size to the
number of inhabitants, which seldom exceed four old, and
Six or eight young ones; though, by chance, I have seen
above double that number.

‘¢ These houses, though not altogether unworthy of ad-
miration, fall very short of the general description given
of them; for instead of crder or regulation being ob-
served in rearing them, they are of a much ruder structure
than their dams.

‘¢ Those who have undertaken to describe the inside of
Beaver houses, as having several apartments appropriated
to various uses; such as eating, sleeping, store-houses for
provisions, and one for their natural occasions, &c., must
have been very little acquainted with the subject; or,
which is still worse, guilty of attempting to impose on the
eredulous, by representing the greatest falsehoods as real
facts. Many years constant residence among the Indians,
during which I had an opportunity of seeing several hun-
dreds of those houses, has enabled me to affirm that every
thing of the kind is entirely void of truth; for, notwith-
standing the sagacity of those animals, it has never been
observed that they aim at any other conveniences in their
houses, than to have a dry place to lie on; and there they
usually eat their victuals, which they occasionally take
out of the water.

‘<It frequently happens, that some of the large houses
are found to have one or more partitions, if they deserve
that appellation; but that is no more than a part of the
main building, left by the sagacity of the Beaver to sup-
port the roof. On such occasions it is common for those
different apartments, as some are pleased to call them, to
have no communication with each other but by water; so
that in fact they may be called double or treble houses,
rather than different apartments of the same house. I
have seen a large Beaver house built ina small island, that
had near a dozen apartments under one roof: and, two or

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

human hands. Their tail serves them as a trowel for ap-
plying this mortar, which they temper with their feet, &c,

«< These retreats are not only very secure, but also very
neat and commodious; the floor is strewed with verdure;
boughs of box and fir serve for a carpet, upon which they
never leave the least dirt. The window which looks out
upon the water serves them for a balcony for the enjoy-
ment of the air, or to bathe during the greater part of the
day. They sit with the head and anterior parts of the
body elevated and the posterior plunged in water; the
opening is sufficiently elevated never to be closed by the
ice, which in the climates where the Beavers reside, is
sometimes three feet thick; they then lower the shelf by
cutting the piles upon which it rested aslope, and make an
opening into the water below the ice!!

‘«*The habit which they have of continually retaining the
tail and hinder parts in the water, appears to have changed
the nature of their flesh. Thus the fore parts, as far as to
the loins, has the quality, taste, and consistence of land
animals; that of the thighs and the tail has the odour, sa-
your, and all the qualities of fish; this tail, a foot long, an
inch thick, and five or six broad, is really an extremity, a
true portion of a fish attached to the body of a quadruped.

‘¢ However admirable, or marvellous the statements we
have made on the labours and society of the Beaver may
appear, we dare to say that no one will doubt their reality.
All the relations made by different witnesses, at various
times, agree together as to the facts we have related; and
if our statement differ from some among them, it is only
at points where they have swelled the marvellous, sur-
passed thetruth, and even transcended probability !”’—Buf-
Son's Nat. Hist.

“ Beavers are most industrious animals; nothing equals
the art with which they construct their dwellings. They
choose a small piece of ground with a rivulet running
through it. This they form into a pond by making adam
across, first by driving into the ground stakes five or six
feet long, placed in rows, walling each row with pliant
twigs, and filling the interstices with clay, ramming it
down close.””—Pennant’s History of Quadrupeds.

‘They have a chief or superintendant in their works,
who directs the whole. The utmost attention is paid to
him by the whole community. Every individual has his
task allotted, which they undertake with the utmost alacrity.
The overseer gives a signal, by a certain number of smart
slaps with his tail, expressive of his orders. ‘The moment
the artificers hear it they hasten to the place thus pointed

AND AMERICAN
AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

three of these only excepted, none of them had any com-
munication with each other but by water. As there were
Beaver enough to inhabit each apartment, it is more than
probable that each family knew its own, and always en-
tered at their own door, without having any further con-
nexion with their neighbours than a friendly intercourse;
and to join their united labours in erecting their separate
habitations, and building their dams where required. It is
difficult to say whether their interest on other occasions
was any ways reciprocal. The Indians of my party killed
twelve old Beaver, and twenty-five young and half-grown
ones out of the house above mentioned; and on examina-
tion found that several had escaped their vigilance, and
could not be taken but at the expense of more trouble
than would be sufficient to take double the number in a
less difficult situation. The difficulty here alluded to, was
the numberless vaults the Beaver had in the sides of the
pond, and the immense thickness of the house in some
parts.

“ Travellers who assert that the Beaver have two doors
to their houses, one on the land side, and the other next
the water, seem to be less acquainted with those animals
than others who assign them an elegant suite of apart-
ments. Such a proceeding would be quite contrary to
their manner of life, and at the same time would render
their houses of no use, either to protect them from their
enemies, or guard them against the extreme cold in
winter. :

«<The quiquehatches, or wolvereens, are great enemies
to the Beaver; and if there were a passage into their houses
on the land side, would not leave one of them alive where-
ever they came.

“I cannot refrain from smiling, when I read the ac-
counts of different authors who have written on the econo-
my of those animals, as there seems to be a contest be-
tween them, who shall most exceed in fiction. But the
compiler of the wonders of nature and art seems, in my
epinion, to have succeeded best in this respect; as he has
not only collected all the fictions into which other writers
on the subject have run, but has so greatly improved on
them, that little remains to be added to his account of the
Beaver, beside a vocabulary of their language, a code of
their laws, and a sketch of their religion, to make it the
most complete natural history of that animal which can
possibly be offered to the public. ne

«‘There cannot be a greater imposition, or indeed a
grosser insult, on ‘common understanding, than the wish
to make us believe the stories of some of the works as-

eribed to the Beaver; and though it is not to be supposed
B

RURAL SPORTS. 5

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

out, and perform tne allotted labour, whether it is to carry
wood, or draw, or repair any accidental breach. They have
also their sentinels, who, by the same kind of signal, give
notice of any apprehended danger. They are said to have
a sort of slavish Beaver among them (analogous to the
drone) which they employ in servile works and domestic
drudgery.”’—Pennant’s Arctic Zoology.

«<The Castor, or Beaver, when in the rivers, feeds upon
shell-fish, and such other prey as it can catch. This ya-
riety of food is the reason why its hinder parts, to the ribs,
have the taste of fish, and that they are eaten upon fast
days, and all the rest has the taste of flesh, so that it is not
used at other times.

“«Tt has pretty large teeth, the under standing out be-
yond their lips about three fingers breadth; the upper about
half a finger, being very broad, crooked, strong and sharp,
growing double, very deep in their mouths, bending circu-
lar, like the edge of an axe, and are of a yellowish red.
They take fishes upon them as if they were hooks, being
able to break in pieces the hardest bones. When he bites
he never loses his hold until his teeth meet together. The
bristles about their mouths are as hard as horns; their bones
are solid and without marrow; their fore feet are like a
dog’s, and their hinder like a swan’s. Their tail is covered
over with scales, being, like a soal, about six inches broad
and ten inches long, which he uses as a rudder to steer
with when he swims to catch fish; and though his teeth -
are so terrible, yet when men have seized his tail they
can govern the animal as they please.

‘¢The Beavers make themselves houses of square tim-
ber, which they gnaw down with their teeth almost as
even as if they were sawed, and almost as equal as if it
were measured. ‘lhey lay these pieces across, and each is
let down by large notches into the other, so that, having
dug a hole for their foundation, they build several stories,
that they may rise higher or lower, according to the fall of
water.”’—Pomet, History of Drugs.

‘¢ Amongst the Beavers some are accounted masters,
some servants. ‘They are cleanly in their houses, for the
making of which, they draw the timber on the belly of
their ancients, they lying on their backs.’?—Zemery.

‘‘ Three Beavers were seen cutting down a large cotton-
wood tree: when they had made considerable progress
one of them retired to a short distance and took his station
in the water, looking steadfastly at the top of the tree. As
soon as he perceived the top of the tree begin to move

6 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

that the compiler of a general work can be intimately ac-
quainted with every subject of which it may be necessary
to treat, yet a very moderate share of understanding is
surely sufficient to guard him against giving credit to such
marvellous tales, however smoothly they may be told, or
however boldly they may be asserted, by the romancing
traveller.

‘< To deny that the Beaver is possessed of a very con-
siderable degree of sagacity, would be as absurd in me, as
it is in those authors who think they cannot allow them
too much. I shall willingly grant them their full share;
but it is impossible for any one to conceive how or by
what means, a beaver, whose full height when standing
erect does not exceed two feet and a half, or three feet at
most, and whose fore-paws are not much larger than a
half-crown piece, can ‘drive stakes as thick as a man’s
leg into the ground three or four feet deep.’ Their
‘wattling those stakes with twigs,’ is equally absurd;
and their plaistering the inside of their houses with a com-
position of mud and straw, and swimming with mud and
stones on their tails,? are still more incredible. The
form and size of the animal, notwithstanding all its saga-
city, will not admit of its performing such feats; and it
would be as impossible for a beaver to use its tail as a
trowel, except on the surface of the ground on which it
walks, as it would have been for Sir James Thornhill to
have painted the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral without the
assistance of scaffolding. The joints of their tail will not
admit of their turning it over their backs on any occasion
whatever, as it has a natural inclination to bend down-
wards; and it is not without some considerable exertion
that they can keep it from trailing on the ground. This
being the case, they cannot sit erect like a squirrel, which
is their common posture; particularly when eating, or
when they are cleaning themselves, as a cat or squirrel
does, without having their tails bent forward between
their legs; and which may not improperly be called their
trencher.

“So far are the beavers from driving stakes into the
ground when building their houses, that they lay most of
the wood crosswise, and nearly horizontal, and without any
other order than that of leaving a hollow or cavity in the
middle; when any unnecessary branches project inward,
they cut them off with their teeth, and throw them in
among the rest, to prevent the mud from falling through
the roof. It is a mistaken notion, that the wood-work is
first completed and then plaistered; for the whole of their
houses, as well as their dams, are from the foundation one
mass of wood and mud, mixed with stones, if they can

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

towards its fall, he gave notice of the danger to his compa-
nions, who were still at work, gnawing at its base, by slap-
ping his tail upon the surface of the water, and they imme-
diately ran from the tree out of harm’s way.”’—Long’s
Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, vol. i. p. 464. (A
hunter’s story.)

‘¢ At the head of one of the rivers of Louisiana I disco-
vered a Beaver dam. Not far from it, but hidden from
the sight of the animals, I and my companions erected our
hut, in order to watch the operations at leisure. We
waited till the moon shone pretty bright; and then carry-
ing branches of trees in our front to conceal us, we went
with great care and silence to the dam. I then ordered
one of the men to cut, as silently as possible, a gutter,
about a foot wide, through it, and retire immediately to the
hiding-place.

‘‘As soon as the water through the gutter began to
make a noise, we heard a Beaver come from one of the
huts, and plunge in. We saw him get upon the bank, and
clearly perceived that he examined it. He then, with all
his force, gave four distinct blows with his tail, when im-
mediately the whole colony threw themselves into the
water, and arrived upon the dam. When they were all
assembled, one of them appeared, by muttering, to issue
some kind of orders; for they all instantly left the place,
and went out on the banks of the pond in different direc-
tions. Those nearest to us were between our station and
the dam, and therefore we could observe their operations
very plainly. Some of them formed a substance resem-
bling a kind of mortar; others carried this on their tails,
which served as sledges for the purpose. I observed that
they put themselves two and two, and that each of a cou-
ple loaded his fellow. They trailed the mortar, which
was pretty stiff, quite to the dam, where others were sta-
tioned to take it; these put it into the gutter, and rammed
it down with blows of their tails.

‘¢The noise of the water soon ceased, and the breach
was completely repaired. One of the Beavers then struck
two blows with his tail; and instantly they all took to the
water without noise, and disappeared.

«¢ We afterwards retired to the hut to rest, and did not
again disturb these industrious animals till the next day. In
the morning, however, we went together to the dam to ob-
serve its construction, for which purpose it was necessary
that we should cut a part of it down. The depression of the
water in consequence of this, together with the noise they
made, roused the Beavers again. The animals seemed much
disturbed by these exertions; and one of them in particular,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

be procured. The mud is always taken from the edge
of the bank, or the bottom of the creek or pond, near the
door of the house; and though their fore-paws are so
small, yet it is held close up between them, under their
throat, that they carry both mud and stones; while they
always drag the wood with their teeth.

‘¢ All their work is executed in the night; and they are
so expeditious in completing it, that in the course of one
night I have known them to have collected as much mud
at their houses as to have amounted to some thousands of
their little handfuls; and when any mixture of grass or
straw has appeared in it, it has been, most assuredly, mere
. chance, owing to the nature of the ground from which
they had taken it. As to their designedly making a
composition for that purpose, it is entirely void of
truth.

“¢Tt is a great piece of policy in those animals, to cover,
or plaister as it is usually called, the outside of their houses
every fall with fresh mud, and as late as possible in the
autumn, even when the frost becomes pretty severe; as
by this means it soon freezes as hard as a stone, and pre-
vents their common enemy, the quiquehatch, from dis-
turbing them during the winter. And as they are fre-
quently seen to walk over their work, and sometimes to
give a flap with their tail, particularly when plunging into
the water, this has, without doubt, given rise to the vulgar
opinion that they use their tails as a trowel, with which
they plaister their houses; whereas that flapping of the
tail is no more than a custom, which they always pre-
serve even when they become tame and domestic, and
more particularly so when they are startled.

‘¢ Their food chiefly consists of a large root, (nuphar
Luteum,) something resembling a cabbage stalk, which
grows at the bottom of the lakes and rivers. They eat
also the bark of trees, particularly that of the poplar, birch,
and willow; but the ice preventing them from getting to
the land in winter, they have not any barks to feed upon
during that season, except that of such sticks as they cut
down in summer, and throw into the water opposite the
doors of their houses; and as they generally eat a great
deal, the roots above mentioned constitute a chief part of
their food during the winter. In summer they vary their
diet, by eating various kinds of herbage, and such berries
as grow near their haunts during that season.

‘¢ When the ice breaks up in the spring, the beaver al-
ways leave their houses, and rove about the whole sum-
mer, probably in search of a more commodious situation;
but in case of not succeeding in their endeavours, they
return again to their old habitations a little before the fall

~I

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

was observed several times to come pretty near the labour-
ers, as if to examine what passed. As I apprehended that
they might run into the woods if further disturbed, I ad-
vised my companions again to conceal themselves.

‘One of the Beavers then ventured to go upon the
breach, after having several times approached and returned
like a spy. He surveyed the place, and then struck four
blows, as he did the preceding evening, with his tail. One
of those that were going to work, passed close by me; and
as I wanted a specimen to examine, I shot him. The noise
of the gun made them scamper off with greater speed than
a hundred blows of the tail of their overseer could have
done. By firing at them several times afterwards, they
were compelled to run with precipitation into the woods.
I then examined their habitations,.and under one of the
houses I found fifteen pieces of wood, with the bark in
part gnawed off, apparently intended for food. Round
the middle of this house, which formed a passage for
them to go in and out at, I found no less than fifteen
different cells. These habitations were made by posts
fixed slantingly upwards to a point; and in the middle
was the floor, resting firmly on notches in the posts.”—Dvz
Pratz.

“Tt seems difficult for a traveller to publish his adven-
tures without mentioning the Castor, or Beaver, even though
his travels may have been limited to Africa, where this ani-
mal is not to be found. I should wish to avoid repetitions,
but I do not distinctly recollect any thing that has been
stated by these ingenious gentlemen on the subject, or
even what Buffon wrote about it in his closet. I will
communicate to you only what I have myself actually
seen, and been from good authority informed of, respect-
ing these astonishing creatures. If I mention circum-
stances which others have narrated before me, you may
consider it as affording additional evidence of what you
were previously acquainted with; and if what I advance
be new, you will, I hope, give me credit for adding to your
information.

¢¢ A small river flows into the lake on the western side.
The Beavers have barricadoed the mouth of it by a dike,
completed in a manner which would not disgrace a corps
of engineers; the water is thus kept back, and forms a
pond, in which they have erected their habitations. It
is proper to notice that the river in question is never dried
up, as otherwise they would not have fixed upon it for
their purpose.

‘¢ The stakes fixed in the earth, and the trunks of trees
which are laid across them, are of considerable thickness

8 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

of the leaf, and lay in their winter stock of woods. They
seldom begin to repair the houses till the frost commences,
and never finish the outer-coat till the cold is pretty
severe, as hath been already mentioned.

“When they shift their habitations, or when the in-
crease of their number renders it necessary to make some
addition to their houses, or to erect new ones, they begin
felling the wood for these purposes early in the summer,
but seldom begin to build till the middle or latter end of
August, and never complete their houses till the cold
weather be set in.

“«‘ Notwithstanding what has been so repeatedly reported
of those animals assembling in great bodies, and jointly
erecting large towns, cities, and commonwealths, as they
have sometimes been called, I am confident, from many
circumstances, that even where the greatest numbers of
beaver are situated in the neighbourhood of each other,
their labours are not carried on jointly in the erection of
their different habitations, nor have they any reciprocal
interest, except it be such as live immediately under the
same roof; and then it extends no farther than to build or
keep a dam which is common to several houses. In such
cases it is natural to think that every one who receives
benefit from such dams, should assist in erecting it, being
sensible of its utility to all.

“Persons who attempt to take beaver in winter should
be thoroughly acquainted with their manner of life, other-
wise they will have much trouble to effect their purpose,
and probably without success in the end; because they
have always a number of holes in the banks, which serve
them as places of retreat when any injury is offered to
their houses; and in general it is in those holes that they
are taken.

‘¢ When the beaver which are situated in a small river
or creek are to be'taken, the Indians sometimes find it ne-
cessary to stake the river across, to prevent them from
passing; after which, they endeavour to find out all their
holes or places of retreat in the banks. This requires
much practice and experience to accomplish, and is per-
formed in the following manner: Every man being fur:
nished with an ice-chisel, lashes it to the end of a small
staff about four or five feet long; he then walks along the
edge of the banks, and keeps knocking his chisels against
the ice. Those who are well acquainted with that kind
of work well know by the sound of the ice when they
are opposite to any of the beavers’ holes or vaults. As
soon as they suspect any, they cut a hole through the ice
big enough to admit an old beaver; and in this manner
proceed till they have found out all their places of retreat,

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Coniinued.

and length. It is difficult to conceive how such small
animals are able to transport such bulky articles. But
what is more astonishing is, that they never make use of
trees blown down by the wind, or levelled by the strength
of man, but select them themselves, cutting down such as
are peculiarly adapted for the intended building, and doing
this always on the banks of lakes or large rivers, in order
to avail themselves of the opportunity of conveying them
by water to the place intended.

‘¢ While five or six are occupied in cutting or sawing
with their teeth the bottom of the trunk, another stations
himself in the middle of the river, and indicates by a hiss-
ing sound, or by striking the water with his tail, which
way the top inclines towards the fall, that the operators
without interrupting their labour may conduct it with
proper caution, and preclude all danger. It is worthy of
remark, that they never gnaw the tree on the land side,
but always on that of the lake or river, in order to ensure
its falling into it.

‘¢ The whole tribe then combine their exertions, and
float the trunk to the place where it is wanted. Here,
with their teeth, they point the stakes;—with their claws
dig deep holes for them in the earth, and with their paws
introduce and drive them in. They then place branches
against them, and fill up the interstices with mortar, which
some prepare while the others are cutting down the trees,
or engaged in different departments of labour; for the tax
of labour is carefully distributed, and no individual re-
mains unemployed. The mortar used by these wonder-
ful animals becomes more hard and solid than the finest
Roman cement.

‘¢When the dike is completed, and has been proved fit
for the purpose designed, they effect an opening at the bot-
tom of it, by way of floodgate, (which they open or close
as may be required, ) that the stream may not be too much
impeded. They then commence building their habitation
in the midst of the mass constituting the dike. They
never begin to erect the habitation previously to forming
the dike, lest the latter operation should fail of success, and
they should consequently lose their valuable time and
labour.

‘¢Their mansion, formed equally of wood and mortar,
consists of two stories, and is double; its length is in pro-
portion to the number of the tribe for whom it is intended.

‘The first stage, or story, is a magazine in common for
provisions, and is under water; the second is divided into
dormitories, each family having its distinct chamber: this
part of the building is above the water.

‘Under the foundations of the building they form a

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 9

AUTHENTIC HISTORY.—Continued.

or atleast as many of them as possible. While the princi-
pal men are thus employed, some of the understrappers,
and the women, are busy in breaking open the house,
which at times is no easy task; for I have frequently
known these houses to be five and six feet thick; and one
in particular, was more than eight feet thick on the crown.
When the beaver find that their habitations are invaded,
they fly to their holes in the banks for shelter; and on
being perceived by the Indians, which is easily done, by
attending to the motion of the water, they block up the
entrance with stakes of wood and then haul the beaver
out of its hole, either by hand, if they can reach it, or
with a large hook made for that purpose, which is fastened
to the end of a long stick.

‘¢Tn this kind of hunting, every man has the sole right
to all the beaver caught by him in the holes or vaults; and
as this is a constant rule, each person takes care to mark
such as he discovers, by sticking up the branch of a tree,
or some other distinguishing post, by which he may know
them. All that are caught in the house also are the pro-
perty of the person who finds it.

«¢ The same regulations are observed, and the same pro-
cess used in taking beaver that are found in lakes and other
standing waters, except it be that of staking the lake
across, which would be both unnecessary and impossible.
Taking beaver-houses in these situations is generally at-
tended with less trouble and more success than in the
former.

FICTITIOUS HISTOR Y.—Continued.

number of avenues, by means of which they enter and
quit subterraneously, so as not to be perceived by the most
keen and watchful Indian; these all terminate at a distance
from their dwelling, and in part of the mound constituting
their dike, or in lakes or rivers, near which they usually
form their establishments, that they may have it in their
power to select that direction which may be most conve-
nient and least dangerous in the various incidents and exi-
gencies of their lives.

«¢ Beavers are divided into tribes, and sometimes mere-
ly into small bands, each of which has its chief; and order
and discipline exist in these distinct societies to a greater
extent probably than among the Indians, or even among
some civilized and polished nations.

‘¢ Their magazines are invariably fully stored with pro-
visions in summer; and no one is permitted to break in
upon this stock until the scarcity of winter begins to be
experienced, unless circumstances render it imperatively
necessary to violate this rule. In no case, however, is
any one permitted to enter without the express authority
and indeed the presence of the chief. Their provisions
consist, in general, of the bark of trees, principally of the
willow and poplar species. On some occasions when bark
is not to be found in sufficient quantities, they collect also
the wood of those trees, which they divide into distinct
parcels with their teeth.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

GROTTO DEL CANE.

I sexieve I did not tell you, in my last, that I made
a visit to the famous Grotto del Cane, a visit to me so full
of interest, that I cannot help giving you some account of
it, notwithstanding the numerous descriptions we already
have of that singular place. I was enticed onward, one
bright morning, by the numberless curious objects that pre-
sent themselves about Naples, till I found myself at the
entrance of the Grotto of Posilipo, then at its further ex-
tremity, then in the beautiful valley beyond; and being
now not far from the Grotto del Cane, set out in earnest
for a treat that I had, from the first, been promising my-
self. A guide was quickly selected from a set of ragged
urchins, who offered themselves along the road. Thus
escorted, I soon reached the house of the Custode, or show-
man, and a rapid knock and short dialogue having settled
the preliminaries, I pushed on towards the Grotto, leay-
ing him to hunt up his dog and follow at his leisure. The

Cc

road, which had hitherto obliquely crossed the valley no-
ticed above, now approached its edge, and led us among
rough, abrupt hills, until suddenly turning to the right,
and entering a deep, natural chasm, it brought us in a few
minutes to the edge of the Lago d’Agnaro. This lake is
about four miles in circuit, and evidently occupies the
crater of an extinct volcano. My little Cicerone led me
along the border of the lake, for about a hundred yards,
when pointing to a small door against the side of the crater,
a short distance above us, he told me that there was the
object of my search. The name Groéfo had misled me,
and my disappointment was great, when, on the door
being unlocked and thrown open, an excavation, of not
more than twelve feet in length, and seven or eight in
height, made its appearance. To the right, it was the
rudest thing possible. The bottom, sides, and top, were
of the bare earth, very uneven, and as the cave was shaped
much like an egg, it was only at the centre or near it, that
a person could stand upright. The floor, and sides to a

10 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

well-defined horizontal line eight or nine inches above it,
appeared moist, and on stepping in, I immediately became
sensible of a small degree of warmth up to the same height,
although the atmosphere down to the ground was perfectly
transparent. The custode first directed me to get on my
hands and knees, and to bring my face within the influ-
ence of the gas. I took the posture desired, and as I had
lowered my head to within a short distance of the ground,
and found myself breathing a pure air, was beginning to
think the wonders of the grotto far overrated, when I sud-
denly found myself bolt upright, and on my feet, having
been brought there by a sensation as if a thousand needles
had been at once thrust into my nostrils. The feeling was
like that often experienced after drinking strong soda water,
only to an almost overpowering deere,

The next experiment was a Eel one, but I hope par-
donable, inasmuch as the cruelty was far from being of
a wanton kind. The man looked for a dog which he had
brought with him, and tied to some bushes near the door,
and taking the struggling animal in his arms laid him down
in the deepest part of the cave. The dog laid quiet for
a moment, and then, with a sudden start nearly escaped
from the custode’s hands, but was brought back, and once
more held down within the full power of the gas. His
struggles were violent, and his eyes turned upward toward
his master, showed a high degree of suffering; but present-
ly, his muscles began to relax, and his struggles ceased,
his open and beseeching eye only showing life. His
master now took him up, and laid him in the pure air,
outside the cave. Here he remained motionless for nearly
two minutes, when he was seized with violent spasms,
gasped for breath; at length got on his feet, staggered
about, and then recovering himself fully, darted away
into the bushes. A whistle brought him back, and he
came up, wagging his tail, to receive the customary crust
of bread. The man now lighted a couple of torches, and
placing one in my hand, allowed me to amuse myself with
such experiments as are frequently practised in our La-
boratories with this gas, and others of a similar character.
The flame began to separate from the torch as soon as it
was lowered to the line noticed above, showing a smooth
uniform surface to the gas. When moved along the sill
of the door, it burnt with undiminished brightness, except
where a small channel was made by an inequality in the
wood; when it sunk into this the light was immediately
extinguished. In the same manner, I could discern the
gas flowing down the hollows leading from this to the lake.
When I had satisfied myself with these experiments, the
custode took both the torches, and rubbing them against
the sides of the cave, filled the bottom of it with smoke;
the hitherto invisible spirit of the cave took form and sub-

stance; and I was warned by a gentle hint, for half a dollar,
that the exhibition was at an end.—S%/liman’s Journal.

OBSERVATIONS ON IGNIS FATUUS.
By Rev Joun Mrrcuett.

Tose luminous appearances, which are popularly called
«‘ Will-o’the-wisp” and ‘¢ Jack-a-lantern,’’ have been alike
the object of vulgar superstition and philosophical curiosi-
ty; and notwithstanding all attempts to apprehend and
subject them to examination, they are not much more the
subjects of knowledge now than they were centuries ago.
They are still but an ignis fatuus to the philosopher, and a
thing of mystery to the credulous.

TI was myself, formerly familiar with these appearances;
they were of frequent occurrence near my father’s resi-
dence, owing probably, to the proximity of extensive wet
grounds, over which they are usually seen. The house
stood upon a ridge, which sloped down on three sides to
the beautiful meadows which form the margin of the Con-
necticut, and of its tributary creeks, and which, owing to
their own luxuriance and the deposits of the vernal
freshets, are covered with rich and constantly decaying
vegetable matter. From the circumstance, also, that we
had no neighbours in the direction of these grounds, a
light could not be seen over them without attracting our
notice. JI mention this by way of suggesting, that pro-
bably the ignis fatuus, in consequence of its not being al-
ways distinguished from the lights of surrounding houses,
and therefore exciting no curiosity, is oftener seen than it
is supposed to be.

These mysterious luminaries used often to be seen by
the fishermen; who plied their nets by night as wellas by
day. They commonly reported that they saw them a
little above the surface of the meadow, dancing up and
down, or gliding quietly along in a horizontal line. Some-
times two, or even three, would be seen together, skip-
ping and dancing or sailing away in concert, as if rejoic-
ing in their mutual companionship. J might entertain
you with abundance of fabulous accounts of them—the
offspring of imaginations tinctured with superstition, and
of minds credulous from a natural love of the marvellous.
Fables, however, are of little value for the purposes of
science: if the following account of some of the pheno-
mena of the ignis fatuus, shall, with the observations of
others, contribute towards a true theory of its nature, you
will think them worthy of a place in your Journal.

A friend of mine, returning from abroad late in the

AND AMERICAN

evening, had to cross a strip of marsh. As he approached
the causeway, he noticed a light towards the opposite end,
which he supposed to be a lantern in the hand of some
person whom he was about to meet. It proved, however,
to be a solitary flame, a few inches above the marsh, at
the distance of a few feet from the edge of the causeway.
He stopped some time to look at it; and was strongly
tempted, notwithstanding the miriness of the place, to get
nearer to it, for the purpose of closer examination. It was
evidently a vapour, [phosphuretted hydrogen ?] issuing
from the mud, and becoming ignited, or at least luminous,
in contact with the air. It exhibited a flickering appear-
ance, like that of a candle expiring in its socket; alter-
nately burning with a large flame and then sinking to a
small taper; and occasionally, for a moment, becoming
quite extinct. It constantly appeared over the same spot.

With the phenomena exhibited in this instance, I have
been accustomed to compare those exhibited in other in-
stances, whether observed by myself or others; and gene-
rally, making due allowance for the illusion of the senses
and the credulity of the imagination in a dark and misty
night, (for it is on such nights that they usually appear,)
I have found these phenomena sufficient for the explanation
of all the fantastic tricks that are reported of these phan-
toms.

They are supposed to be endowed with locomotive
power. They appear to recede from the spectator, or to
advance towards him. But this may be explained with-
out locomotion—by their variation in respect to quantity
of flame. As the light dwindles away, it will seem to
move from you, and with a velocity proportioned to the
rapidity of its diminution. Again, as it grows larger, it
will appear to approach you. If it expires, by several
flickerings or flashes, it will seem to skip from you, and
when it re-appears you will easily imagine that it has as-
sumed a new position. This reasoning accounts for their
apparent motion, either to or from the spectator; and I
never could ascertain that they moved in any other direc-
tion, that is, in a line oblique or perpendicular to that in
which they first appeared. In one instance, indeed, I
thought this was the fact, and what struck me as more sin-
gular, the light appeared to move, with great rapidity, di-
rectly against a very strong wind. But after looking some
time, I reflected that I had not changed the direction of
my eye at all, whereas if the apparent motion had been
real, | ought to have turned half round. The deception
was occasioned by the motion of the wind itself—as a
stake standing in a rapid stream will appear to move
against the current.

It is a common notion that the ignis fatuus cannot be
approached, but will move off as rapidly as you advance.

RURAL SPORTS. 11

This characteristic is mentioned in the Edinburgh Ency-
clopeedia. It is doubtless a mistake. Persons attempting
to approach them, have been deceived perhaps as to their
distance, and finding them farther off than they imagined,
have proceeded a little way and given over, under the
impression that pursuit was vain. An acquaintance of
mine, a plain man, told me he actually stole up close
to one, and caught it in his hat, as he thought ;—‘¢ and
what was it??? I asked. «It was’nt nothin.?? On
looking into his hat for the ‘shining jelly,’ it had
wholly disappeared. His motion had dissipated the
vapour, or perhaps his foot had closed the orifice from
which it issued. To this instance another may be added.
A young man and woman, walking home from an evening
visit, approached a light, which they took for a lantern
carried by some neighbour, but which on actually passing
it, they found to be borne by no visible being; and taking
themselves to flight, burst into the nearest house with such
precipitation as to overturn the furniture, and impart no
small share of their fright to the family.

The circumstance that these lights usually appear over
marshy grounds, explains another popular notion respect-
ing them; namely, that they possess the power of beguil-
ing persons into swamps and fens. To this superstition
Parnell alludes in his Fairy Tale, in which he makes
Will-o’the-wisp one of his dancing fairies;

“Then Will who bears the wispy fire,
To trail the swains among the mire,” &c.

In a misty night, they are easily mistaken for the light of
a neighbouring house, and the deceived traveller, directing
his course towards it, meets with fences, ditches, and other
obstacles, and by perseverance, lands at length, quite be-
wildered, in the swamp itself. By this time, he perceives
that the false lamp is only a mischievous jack-a-lantern.
An adventure of this kind I remember to have occurred
in my own neighbourhood. A man left his neighbour’s
house late in the evening, and at day-light had not reached
his own, a quarter of a mile distant; at which his family
being concerned, a number of persons went out to search
for him. We found him near a swamp, with soiled
clothes and a thoughtful countenance, reclining by a fence.

The account he gave was, that he had been led into the
swamp by a jack-a-lantern. His story was no doubt true,

and yet had little of the marvellous in it. The night being
dark, and the man’s senses a little disordered withal, by a
glass too much of his neighbour’s cherry, on approaching
his house, he saw a light, and not suspecting that it was

not upon his own mantel, made towards it. A bush ora

bog, might have led to the same place, if he had happened

to take it for his chimney-top.—J/0.

12 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

To the Editor of the Cabinet of Natural History.

A NEW PROPERTY OF THE FETID MATTER OF THE SKUNK.

Waixz perusing the history of the Skunk, in the second
volume of your work, I was reminded of a circumstance
that happened in this neighbourhood, and which was re-
lated to me by an eye-witness.

Twe men were hunting Skunks, for the purpose of ob-
taining their fur, and being labourers, from necessity were
obliged to spend the night in that occupation. They had
seen several, but had been unsuccessful in takingany. One
of them, however, perceived something indistinctly in a
erevice of the rocks, and approached to examine it. He
stooped over the place with a stick in his hand to aid in
ascertaining the description of the animal before him. He
disturbed it with the weapon, and received in his eyes the
fetid matter of a Skunk. So violent was the pain, that he
roared out ‘‘help!”’ and it wholly deprived him of sight
for some hours. His companion, (the narrator of the cir-
cumstances,) led him to a brook, not far distant from the
scene of the disaster, in whose limpid waters he washed
his eyes, and under this treatment the pain began gradually
to diminish, and the power of sight to return. It was fol-
lowed by an inflammation which lasted for several days,
but then subsided.

His sight was so improved that objects were distin-
guished in the night as perfectly as in the day. What
power this fluid has to improve the vision I am ignorant
of; and this simple tale is all I have heard to establish the
truth of that power; and in this perplexed condition, I
would ask, if any one has seen or known of any other
instances of the effect of this fluid on the human system.

XG Wo Bo
Geneva, N. Y. Feb. 4th, 18338.

TEST OF THE PERCUSSION PRINCIPLE.

THE question as to the using of percussion locks in
the army, is about to be decided in France. By experi-
ments made in the Hanoverian army, it appears that out
of 340 muskets, with percussion locks, consuming to-
gether 27,000 cartridges, there were only 21 missed fire
from the failure of the priming, and 72 from the defect of
charge, making in all 93: while out of the same number
of muskets, with flint locks, 206 shots failed from the
priming, and 599 from the charge, in all 806. Still further
experiments were made both in the exposing to a constant
rain, by wetting the inside of the cup, ana by putting wa-
ter in the touch-hole. The result was, that ihe guns, after

being exposed to the injuries of the weather, or even a
constant rain, were much more to be relied upon than
those with flint locks. Marshal Soult, who had been for
a long time impressed with the advantages to be derived
from the use of percussion guns, resolved to renew the
above experiments in France,—and last year a committee
of officers, by his direction, repeated all the experiments,
and their report completely establishes the supremacy of
the percussion lock. At this moment, however, nearly
2,600 muskets of all the different kinds have been fitted
up with percussion locks in order to make a grand and
last trial.

WILD TURKEY.
MELEAGRIS GALLOPAVO.
[Vox. III. Prarz Il.)

Meleagris Gallopavo, Cu. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds
of the United States, p. 122.—Cu. Bonapartn’s
“American Ornithology, vol. i. p. 79, pl. 1X.—Aunv-
son’s Ornithological Biography, p. 1, vol. i., pl. I.
vol. i.

Meleagris Gallopavo, Linn. Syst. I. p. 268, sp. 1.—
Guex. Syst. I. p. 732, sp. 1.—Lara. Ind. p. 618, sp.
1.—Witson, 4m. Orn. VI. Index, p. xyii.—Srn-
puENs’ Cont. of Suaw’s Zool. XI. Part 1. p. 156.

Gallopavo Sylvestris Nove-Angliz. a New-England
Wild Turkey) Ray, San. p.51, sp. 3.—Carussy Caro-
lina, I. App. p. xliv.

Meleagris Americanus, the Wild Turkey, Bartram,
Tray. p. 290.

Dindon, Burr. Otis. Il. p. 132, pl. Ill Pl. Eni. 97,
dom.—Tzumm. Hist. Nat. des Pig. et Gall. Il. p. 374.
—Gnurarpin, Tabl. Elem. d’ Orn. II. p. 103, pl. XX.
fig. 2.

Wild Turkey; Cuayron, Virginia, Phil. Trans. XVII.
p- 992.—Lawson, Carolina, p.149.

American Turkey, Lara. Syn. Il. Part um. p. 676,
sp. 1.

Domestic Turkey, Penn. Brit. Zool. \. sp. 97.—J.
Doveurty’s collection.

Tux most beautiful and interesting bird of North Ame-
riea, is the Wild Turkey; and for usefulness, and the de-
licacy of its flesh, is not surpassed, if indeed equalled, by
any other individual of the feathered tribe on the whole

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AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 13

~ earth,—while it is a fact fully admitted, that this bird is
the origin whence sprung the whole domestic race of Tur-
keys now scattered over almost every country.

The Wild Turkey is strictly a native of North Ame-
rica, having its range from the isthmus of Darien on the
south, to the fiftieth degree north,—and east and west, the
Atlantic Ocean and the Rocky Mountains. No indivi-
dual of the species has ever been seen south of Panama,
and it is utterly unknown beyond Lake Superior. There
is no good reason, however, that its western range should
be limited to the Rocky Mountains, as the country and
climate beyond them, warrant the conclusion, that these
birds exist even to the shores ef the Pacific Ocean. In
the north Atlantic states, Turkeys have become very
searce, but in the south and west they are exceedingly plen-
tiful. In Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida,
many may at all times be found; but in every state west
of these, multitudes of these magnificent birds are conti-
nually roaming the fields and forests. Some Turkeys still
exist in the inaccessible hills of New-Jersey and New-
York, but are to be found in greater numbers among the
mountains of Pennsylvania.

It is not precisely known at what period the Turkey
was first introduced into Europe; but from the years 1525
to 1530, the earliest mention is made of this bird, —while
from that period to the present, its increase has been won-
derfully rapid, until it has now become an inhabitant of
almost every poultry-yard, and is regarded as a standing
dish at all festivals, and tables of hotels and private fami-
lies.

Many attempts have been made to introduce the Wild
Turkey, in its native state, on several preserves of game
in Europe,—but with the exception of one or two in-
stances in England, they have not succeeded.

So greatly was the Turkey esteemed in Europe shortly
after its introduction, that ‘“‘in the year 1566, a present
of twelve Turkeys was thought not unworthy of being
offered by the municipality of Amiens to their king, at
whose marriage, in 1570, it is stated they were first eaten
in France. Hzrespacx asserts that they were introduced
into Germany about 1530; and a sumptuary law made at
Venice, in 1577, particularizes the tables at which they
were permitted to be served.”’

<¢ Those who have seen only the domesticated bird, can
form but a faint idea of its beauty ina state of nature.
When fully grown the male Wild Turkey measures nearly
four feet in length, and more than five in the expanse of
its wings. Its head, which is very small in proportion to
its body, is covered with a naked bluish skin, which is
continued over the upper half of its neck. On this skin
are placed a number of wart-like elevations, red on the

D

upper portion, and whitish below, interspersed with a
few scattered blackish hairs. On the under part of the
neck the skin is flaccid and membranous, and extends
downwards in the shape of large wattles. From the base
of the bill, at its junction with the forehead, rises a wrin-
kled conical fleshy protuberance, with a pencil of hairs at
the tip. This protuberance, when the bird is at rest, does
not exceed an inch and a half in length, but on any ex-
citement becomes elongated to such an extent as to cover
the bill entirely, and to depend below it for several inches.
The lower part of the neck, at its junction with the breast,
is ornamented by a singular tuft of black rigid hairs, sepa-
rating themselves from the feathers, and reaching as much
as nine inches in length. The feathers of the body are
long and truncated, and, generally speaking, may each be
subdivided into four parts. Their base is formed by a
light fuliginous down, which is followed by a dusky por-
tien. This again is succeeded by a broad shining metallic
band, changing to copper-colour or bronze, to violet or
purple, according to the incidence of the light; while the
tip is formed by a narrow black velvety band, which last
is wanting on the neck and breast. From this disposition
of the colours results a most beautiful changeable metallic
gloss over the whole body of the bird, which is, however,
less marked on the lower part of the back and tail-coverts.

‘¢ The wings, which scarcely extend beyond the base of
the tail, are concave and rounded. They are furnished
with twenty-eight quill-feathers; the primaries are plain
blackish banded with white, while the secondaries have
the relative extent of these markings so reversed that they
may be described as white banded with blackish; and
tinged, especially towards the back, with brownish-yellow.
The tail measures more than fifteen inches in length, is
rounded at the extremity, and consists of eighteen broad
feathers, which, when expanded and elevated, assume the
form of a fan. It is brown, mottled with black, and
crossed by numerous narrow undulating lines of the same.
Near the tip is a broad black band, then follows a short
mottled portion, and lastly a broad dingy yellowish band.
The feet are robust, have blunt spurs about an inch in
length, and are of a red colour, with blackish margins to
the scales, and claws of the same dusky hue. The bill is
reddish, and horn-coloured at the tip; and the irides are
dark brown.

‘The female is considerably smaller, not exceeding
three feet and a quarter in length. Her bill and legs are
less robust, the latter without any rudiment of a spur; and
her irides similar to those of the male. Her head and neck
are less denuded, being covered by short decomposed fea-
thers of a dirty gray. Those of the back of the neck have
brownish tips, producing a longitudinal band on that part.

14 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

The caruncle on the forehead is short, and incapable of
elongation; and the fasciculus on the breast is not always
present. The prevailing tinge of the plumage is dusky
gray; each feather having a metallic band, less brilliant
than that of the male, then a blackish band, and a grayish
terminal fringe. On the feathers of the neck and under
surface the black band is for the most part obliterated.
All the parts, without exception, are duller than those of
the male; less white exists on the primary wing-feathers,
and the secondaries are entirely destitute of bands. The
tail is similar in colour to that of the male.

‘¢ Until the naked membrane acquires its tinge of red,
it Is not easy to distinguish between the two sexes; but on
the approach of the first winter, the young males show a
rudiment of the tuft of hairs upon the breast, consisting at
first of a mere tubercle; in the second year the tuft is
about three inches long; and in the third the bird attains
its adult form, although it certainly continues to increase
in size and beauty for several years. Females have their
full size and colouring at the end of four years; they then
possess the pectoral fascicle, four or five inches in length,
but much thinner than in the male. This appendage is
more frequently observed, and is acquired at an earlier pe-
riod of life, in the wild than in the domestic female.”’

The following important features of the history of the
Turkey, are selected from the account furnished by Mr.
AvpuBon, who it appears has studied the habits, and
written more largely, of that bird than any other natural
historian.

<¢ About the middle of April, when the season is dry,
the hens begin to look out for a place in which to deposit
their eggs. This place requires to be as muchas possible
concealed from the eye of the Crow, as that bird often
watches the Turkey when going to her nest, and, waiting
in the neighbourhood until she has left it, removes
and eats the eggs. The nest, which consists of a few
withered leaves, is placed on the ground, in a hollow
scooped out, by the side of a log, or in the fallen top
of a dry leafy. tree, under a thicket of sumach or briars,
or a few feet within the edge of a cane-brake, but always
ina dry place. The eggs, which are of a dull cream co-
lour, sprinkled with red dots, sometimes amount to twenty,
although the more usual number is from ten to fifteen.
When depositing her eggs the female always approaches
the nest with extreme caution, scarcely ever taking the
same course twice, and when about to leave them, covers
them carefully with leaves, so that is very difficult for a
person who may have seen the bird to discover the nest.
Indeed few Turkeys’ nests are found, unless the female has
been suddenly started from them, or a cunning lynx,

fox, or crow, has sucked the eggs, and left their shells scat=
tered about.

‘¢ Turkey hens not unfrequently prefer islands for de-
positing their eggs and rearing their young, probably be-
cause such places are less frequented by hunters, and
because the great masses of drifted timber which usually
accumulate at their heads, may protect and save them in
cases of great emergency.

«¢ When an enemy passes within sight of a female, while
lying or sitting, she never moves, unless she knows that
she has been discovered, but crouches lower until he has
passed. I have frequently approached within five or six
paces of a nest, of which I was previously aware, on as-
suming an air of carelessness, and whistling or talking to
myself, the female remaining undisturbed; whereas if F
went cautiously towards it, she would never suffer me to
approach within twenty paces, but would run off, with her
tail spread on one side, to a distance of twenty or thirty
yards, when assuming a stately gait, she would walk about
deliberately, uttering every now and then a cluck. They
seldom abandon their nest, when it has been discovered
by men; but, I believe, never go near it again, when a
snake or other animal has sucked any of the eggs. If the
eggs have been destroyed or carried off, the female soon
yelps again for a male; but, in general, she rears only a
single brood each season. Several hens sometimes asso-
ciate together, I believe for their mutual safety, deposit
their eggs in the same nest, and rear their broods together.
I once found three sitting on forty-two eggs. In such
cases, the common nest is always watched by one of the
females, so that no crow, raven, or perhaps even pole-cat,
dares approach it.

‘¢ The mother will not leave her eggs, when near hatch-
ing, under any circumstances, while life remains. She
will even allow an enclosure to be made around her, and
thus suffer imprisonment, rather than abandon them. I
once witnessed the hatching of a brood of Turkeys, which
T watched for the purpose of securing them, together with
the parent. I concealed myself on the ground within a
very few feet, and saw her raise herself half the length of
her legs, look anxiously upon the eggs, and cluck with a
sound peculiar to the mother on such occasions, carefully
remove each half-empty shell, and with her bill caress
and dry the young birds, that already stood tottering and
attempting to make their way out of the nest. Yes, I
have seen this, and have left mother and young to better
eare than mine could have proved;—to the care of their
Creator and mine. I have seen them all emerge from the
shell, and in a few moments after, tumble, roll, and push
each other forward, with astonishing and inscrutable in-
stinct.. :

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 15

‘Before leaving the nest with her young brood, the
mother shakes herself in a violent manner, picks and ad-
justs the feathers about her belly, and assumes quite a dif-
ferent aspect. She alternately inclines her eyes oblique-
ly upwards and sideways, stretching out her neck to dis-
cover hawks or other enemies, spreads her wings alittle as
she walks, and softly clucks to keep her innocent offspring
close to her. They move slowly along, and as the
hatching generally takes place in the afternoon, they
frequently return to the nest to spend the first night
there. After this, they remove to some distance,
keeping on the highest undulated grounds, the mother
dreading rainy weather, which is extremely dangerous to
the young, in this tender state, when they are only co-
vered by akind of soft hairy down, of surprising delicacy.
In very rainy seasons, Turkeys are scarce, for if once com-
pletely wetted, the young seldom recover. To prevent the
disastrous effects of rainy weather, the mother, like a skil-
ful physician, plucks the buds of the spice-wood bush, and
gives them to her young,

‘<Tn about a fortnight, the young birds, which had pre-
viously rested on the ground, leave it, and fly, at night,
to some very large low branch, where they place them-
selves under the deeply-curved wings of their kind and
careful parent, dividing themselves for that purpose into
two nearly equal parties. After this, they leave the woods
during the day, and approach the natural glades or prai-
ries, in search of strawberries, and subsequently of dew-
berries, blackberries, and grasshoppers, thus obtaining
abundant food, and enjoying the beneficial influence of the
sun’s rays. They roll themselves in deserted ants’ nests,
to clear their growing feathers of the loose scales, and pre-
vent ticks and other vermin from attacking them, these
insects being unable to bear the odour of the earth in
which ants have been.

«‘The young Turkeys now advance rapidly in growth,
and in the month of August are able to secure themselves
from unexpected attacks of wolves, foxes, lynxes, and even
cougars, by rising quickly from the ground, by the help
of their powerful legs, and reaching with ease the highest
branches of the tallest trees. The young cocks show the
tuft on the breast about this time, and begin to gobble and
strut, while the young hens pur and leap in the manner
which I have already described.

“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 goddlers, asso-
ciate 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 connexion 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 inter-
rupted 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 re-
main 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 be-
fitting the emergency. Even the females and young as-
sume something of the same pompous demeanour, 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, frequent-
ly 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 vigour,
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 re-
markable, 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 mid-
dle of November. So gentle do they sometimes become
after these long journeys, that they have been seen to ap-
proach the farm-houses, 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 se-
parate, and fly from the males. The latter strenuously pur-
sue, and begin to gobble or to utter the notes of exulta-

16 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

tion. The sexes roost apart, but at no great distance from
each other When a female uttersa call-note, all the gob-
blers 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 practising
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 insight
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, end-
ing in bloodshed, and often in the loss of many lives, the
weaker failing under the repeated blows inflicted upon their
head by the stronger.

«¢T 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 tothe 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.

<«¢ Turkey-cocks when at roost sometimes strut and gob-
ble, but I have more generally seen them spread out and
raise their tails, and emit the pulmonic puff, lowering
their tail and other feathers immediately after. During
clear nights, or when there is moonshine, they perform
this action at intervals of a few minutes, for hours to-
gether, without moving from the same spot, and indeed
sometimes without rising on their legs, especially towards
the end of the love-season. The males now become
greatly emaciated, and cease to gobble, their Jdreast-
sponge becoming flat. They then separate from the hens,
and one might suppose that they had entirely deserted
their neighbourhood. At such seasons I have found them
lying by the side of a log, in some retired part of the
dense woods and cane thickets, and often permitting one

to approach within a few feet. They are then unable
to fly, but run swiftly, and to a great distance. A slow
Turkey-hound has led me miles before I could flush the
same bird. Chases of this kind I did not undertake for
the purpose of killing the bird, it being then unfit for eat-
ing, and covered with ticks, but with the view of render-
ing myself acquainted with its habits. They thus retire
to recover flesh and strength, by purging with particular
species of grass, and using less exercise. As soon as their
condition is improved, the cocks come together again, and
recommence their rambles.

«‘ Turkeys are now generally extremely shy, and the
moment they observe a man, whether of the red or white
race, they instinctively move from him. Their usual mode
of progression is what is termed walking, during which
they frequently open each wing partially and successively,
replacing them again by folding them over each other, as
if their weight were too great. Then, as if to amuse
themselves, they will run a few steps, open both wings,
and fan their sides, in the manner of the common fowl,
and often take two or three leaps in the air and shake
themselves. Whilst searching for food among the leaves
or loose soil, they keep their head up, and are unremitting-
ly on the look-out; but as the legs and feet finish the ope-
ration, they are immediately seen to pick up the food, the
presence of which, I suspect, is frequently indicated to
them, through the sense of touch in their feet, during the
act of scratching. , This habit of scratching and remoy-
ing the dried leaves in the woods, is pernicious to their
safety, as the spots which they thus clear, being about two
feet in diameter, are seen at a distance, and, if fresh, show
that the birds are in the vicinity. During the summer
months they resort to the paths or roads, as well as the
ploughed fields, forthe purpose of rolling themselves in the
dust, by which means they clear their bodies of the ticks,
which at that season infest them, as well as free themselves
of mosquitoes, which greatly annoy them, by biting their
heads.

«When Turkeys alight on a tree, it is sometimes very
difficult to see them, which is owing to their standing per-
fectly motionless. Should you discover one, when it is
down on its legs upon the branch, you may approach it
with less care. But if it is standing erect, the greatest
precaution is necessary, for should it discover you, it in-
stantly flies off, frequently to such a distance that it would
be vain to follow.

‘¢Turkeys are easily killed if shot in the head, the
neck, or the upper part of the breast; but if hit in the hind
parts only, they often fly so far as to be lost to the hunter.
During winter many of our rea/ hunters shoot them by
moonlight, on the roosts, where these birds will fre-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 17

quently stand arepetition of the reports of a rifle, although
they would fly from the attack of an owl, or even perhaps
from his presence. Thus sometimes nearly a whole flock is
secured by men capable of using these guns in such cir-
cumstances. They are often destroyed in great numbers
when most worthless, that is, early in the fall or autumn,
when many are killed in their attempts to cross the rivers,
or immediately after they reach the shore.

‘¢ During spring Turkeys are called, as it is termed, by
drawing the air, in a particular way, through one of the
second joint bones of a wing of that bird, which produces
a sound resembling the voice of the female, on hearing
which the male comes up, and is shot. In managing this,
however, no fault must be committed, for Turkeys are
quick in distinguishing counterfeit sounds, and, when half
civilized, are very wary and cunning. I have, known
many to answer to this kind of call, without moving a
step, and thus entirely defeat the scheme of the hunter,
who dared not move from his hiding-place, lest a single
glance of the gobbler’s eye should frustrate all further at-
tempts to decoy them. Many are shot when at roost, in this
season, by answering with a rolling gobble to a sound in
imitation of the cry of the Barred Owl.

‘¢But the most common method of procuring Wild
Turkeys, is by means of pens. These are placed in parts
of the woods where Turkeys have been frequently ob-
served to roost, and are constructed in the following man-
ner. Young trees of four or five inches diameter are cut
down, and divided into pieces of the length of twelve or
fourteen feet. Two of these are laid on the ground paral-
lel to each other, at a distance of ten or twelve feet. Two
other pieces are laid across the ends of these, at right
angles to them; and in this manner successive layers are
added, until the fabric is raised to the height of about four
feet. It is then covered with similar pieces of wood,
placed three or four inches apart, and loaded with one or
two heavy logs to render the whole firm. This done, a
trench about eighteen inches in depth and width is cut
under one side of the cage, into which it opens slant-
ingly and rather abruptly. It is continued on its outside
to some distance, so as gradually to attain the level of the
surrounding ground. Over the partof this trench within
the pen, and close to the wall, some sticks are placed so
as to form a kind of bridge about a foot in breadth. The
trap being now finished, the owner places a quantity of
Indian corn in its centre, as well as in the trench, and as
he walks off drops here and there a few grains in the
woods, sometimes to the distance of a mile. This is re-
peated at every visit to the trap, after the Turkeys have
found it. Sometimes two trenches are cut, in which case
the trenches enter on opposite sides of the trap, and are

E

both strewn with corn. No sooner has a Turkey disco-
vered the train of corn, than it communicates the circum-
stance to the flock by a cluck, when all of them come up,
and searching for the grains seattered about, at length
come upon the trench, which they follow, squeezing
themselves one after another through the passage under
the bridge. In this manner the whole flock sometimes
enters, but more commonly six or even only, as they are
alarmed by the least noise, even the cracking of a tree in
frosty weather. Those within, having gorged them-
selves, raise their heads, and try to force their way through
the top or sides of the pen, passing and repassing on the
bridge, bat never for amoment looking down, or attempt-
ing to escape through the passage by which they entered.
Thus they remain until the owner of the trap arriving,
closes the trench, and secures his captives.

sc The weight of Turkey-hens generally averages about
nine pounds avoirdupois. I have, however, shot barren
hens, in strawberry season, that weighed thirteen pounds,
and have seen a few so fat as to burst open on falling from
a tree when shot. Male Turkeys differ more in their bulk
and weight. From fifteen to eighteen pounds may be a
fair estimate of their ordinary weight. I saw one offered
for sale in the Louisville market that weighed thirty-six
pounds. Its pectoral appendage measured upwards of a
foot.

For the Cabinet of Natural History.

A HUNTING EXCURSION ON ONE OF THE
CORDILLERAS.

Mr. Editor:—The following extract is from a journal,
kept during a short residence in Colombia; but at the
time it was penned, I did not intend it for publication.
If, however, you find it sufficiently interesting, and suit-
able for the pages of your work, I shall be happy in
making the contribution.

‘¢I was one of a party of adventurers which sought
their fortunes in South America,—having set sail from
Boston in 18—, and landed at Laguayra after a passage
of a few weeks. My original design was to rest at Carac-
cas, an inland city of the province of Venezuela, during
my residence in Colombia. I therefore remained in the
former town only a sufficient time to land my goods, and
prepare them for transportation to the latter city.

‘<The distance between.Laguayra and Caraccas is only
a few miles, but the road is mountainous and difficult, and

18 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

requires several hours to make the passage. The latter
city is the capitol of the province, and is situated on the
slope of a mountain, and in fact rests in a valley formed
by the mountain you cross in going to it, and another
higher mountain south a few miles, the towering summits
of which, during a clear atmosphere, form a beautiful
prospect, and seem to overhang the city. This mountain
is called the Sz//a, and is the north-eastern termination
of the great range of the Andes, and rises to the height of
about 9000. feet above the sea.

“During the few months I remained at Caraceas, it
was proposed by one of my friends that I should join him
in an excursion to this mountain, not only to behold the
beautiful scenery, which an ascent would unfold to view,
but spend a few days to range the table lands and promon-
tories in hunting some of the wild animals known to abide
in that region. Accordingly we made every preparation
necessary for the occasion, and, accompanied by a guide,
we departed on the appointed day towards the summit of
the Silla. We had arranged matters so, that by starting
at sunrise, we should be able to make a tolerable ascent
before night, and on the next day, if not able to reach the
summit of the mountain, go at least to the boundary of
vegetation and back again to our resting place before the
evening.

‘¢ Born in the wild and mountainous regions of my own
happy land, I had learned from childhood, to scale the
rugged sides of the green hills in Vermont, (my native
state,) and wend the toilsome way after game, as often in
fruitless as successful pursuit, the characteristic features of
those highlands having made hunting a necessary part in
the life of every resident there. It was, therefore, not
without peculiar sensations of pleasure, that an occasion
was presented to vary the scene of action, especially as it
was so eminently calculated to recal to mind the incidents
I had so often experienced at home.

«« My companion, was one whose friendship f had tested,
and whose energies were unabating, and to whom I had
formed a sincere attachment, which became mutual, and
strengthened by absence from home and aresidence among
strangers; and in the enjoyment of these social ties, we
passed much of our time together, without mixing with
the heterogeneous inhabitants. of Caraceas.

scThe day was remarkably fine, and by three o’clock,
P. M. found we had made great progress. in our ascent,
although we had overcome many difficult passages over
rocks, across savannas, and through almost impenetrable
vegetation; we therefore resolved on halting for half an
hour, previous to another and last attempt for that day.
We then pursued our course with a view to reach a spot,
known as @ resting place at night for travellers. In this

we succeeded about seven o’clock, and made preparations
to remain for the night. Our intention was to complete,
if possible, the ascent of the mountain, without deviating
from a direct course, and spend no time in hunting until
after we had descended nearer the base of the mountain;
but on the above evening we had reached our goal at an”
earlier period than we had anticipated; and being enticed
by a neighbouring promontory, we determined to reach
its summit, and take a survey of the surrounding coun-
try. We therefore buckled on our accoutrements, shoul-
dered our guns, and with our guide directed our footsteps
successfully to this elevated spot.

‘¢The sun had sunk behind the great western mountains,
and we could see his traces no where but by the golden
tinges of a few flying clouds. Mildness and serenity
reigned throughout the vast expanse which lay beneath
our feet, and no living creature animated the scene but a
few king-vultures, which were hovering around and over
us. We sat musing, wrapt upas we were by the grandeur
of the scenery, which to the east was bounded only by the
distant horizon of the sea, while we computed our eleva-
tion at upwards of six thousand feet. My companion’s
feelings were completely in unison with mine; but our
more thoughtless guide found pleasure only in searching
the sides of the mountain for a number of small smooth
stones. At this interesting period, our attention was at-
tracted by an animal that had just emerged from a thicket
close to our left, and seemed totally unconscious of the
presence of an enemy. It was a small deer, (Cervus
Mexicanus,) and was browsing on the variety of herbs,
which grew in great abundance, and might properly be
called Alpine plants. The eyes of my companion and
mine met at the same moment; and with smiles expressive
of surprise at the new visitor, we hesitated to commit any
violence, so little were we prepared in our feelings to effect
its death. Poor littte innocent!—it had perhaps just risen
from its lair, on the approach of twilight, to satisfy the
cravings of appetite, and enjoy the bounteous repast which
nature had spread before it, unconscious of attending dan-
ger. Ina moment, however, it was stricken to the earth
by a tiger, or juguar, which no doubt had been so intent
on its prey as to be unheedful of every thing else. We
instantly rose from our seats, and discharged our guns
simultaneously at the monster, and killed it.

‘¢ Our guide, whose attention was attracted by the ani-
mal as it sprung on its victim, and by the victorious growl
in securing it, had become so panic struek, that he did not
notice the report of our guns, but sunk on his knees and
crossing himself, offered up constant ejaculations, address-
ing himself sometimes in these terms—‘ Oh! holy virgin,
why have you permitted me to, be led by these hereties

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

into this great danger; these must be wicked men, or you
would not pass such judgment upon them; but what have I
done, that I should share the punishment due to their
crimes.’

«¢ The earnestness of this bigot, and his want of charity,
excited our laughter,—and it was some time before the
coward could be convinced that we had killed the animal,
or even get him to turn his face towards it. After his
fears had subsided, however, he assisted us in getting the
animal to our cave, where we skinned it, and threw the
carcase to be devoured by the vultures. _Wehad thus en-
joyed one of the most splendid views on earth, and been
unexpectedly successful in destroying an animal, that not
unfrequently caused terror among some of the inhabitants
of the country, and were therefore anxious to preserve
the skin, as an evidence of our suceess, to be exhibited on
our return to our friends.

«¢ After drawing on our humble store of provisions, we
endeavoured to repose for the remainder of the night, pre-
paratory to a very early start the next morning for the
completion of our ascent of the mountain. We were dis-
turbed, about day-break, by our guide, who had just risen,
and, departing from the cave, left us altogether, and re-
turned home. This man was a native Indian, but had be-
come a proselyte to the Roman Church, and belonged to
one of the missionary establishments near Caraccas; in
consequence of which he had made some progress in the
knowledge of the Spanish language, and him, with those
of his fellows who had shared like advantages, were more
often chosen as guides than the other inhabitants; but, as
in the instance cited, they often proved faithless, and
sometimes treacherous. We suspected him of cowardice
several times, for on different occasions he warned us of
dangers and saw difficulties when neither were at hand;
but we dreamed not that he would forsake us or the pro-
tection we were able to afford him. In this unexpected di-
lemma, we were somewhat at a loss to decide, whether to
persevere in ascending the mountain, or finish our hunt-
ing, while we gradually approached the city. We however
decided on the former course, as a successful attempt was
a consummation which but few had experienced. We
therefore, shortly after day-break, started-on our enterprise
of ascending the mountain, and continued our passage
slowly and steadily until ten o’clock. We had con-
sumed about six hours, and finding our difficulties increas-
ing so fast, we were convinced that we had mistaken the
preper course, and resolved to retrace our steps. Al-
though the temperature was not above 50°, we had
laboured so hard during the last hour, that we perspired
profusely. We had now passed the boundary of vegeta-
tion;—all beyond were rocks and precipices, insurmount-

19

able by human effort,—and the greatest exertion would
not convey us but a few hundred feet further up the
mountain; we therefore tarried about half an hour, to take
another view of the country before us, and then begin our
retrograde movements. We continued descending until
nearly one o’clock, and discovered at length that we had
also lost our backward track; this caused us to halt, and
endeavour to find the proper course, —but failing in this,
we proceeded on our way.

“¢It was two o’clock, and the clouds, which for half an
hour had began to thicken about the mountain’s brow, now
rolled furiously immediately over our heads, impelled by
a wind that prostrated the decayed trunks of trees, and
leafy branches, with the violence of a hurricane. We were
convinced a fearful storm of rain would follow, and we
lost no time in seeking refuge from it among the crevices
of the rocks. The rain soon began to fall in torrents,
which continued, with unabated vehemence, for nearly
two hours, and then gave way to a clear sunshine and a
cloudless sky, so that we renewed our descent. But new
difficulties presented themselves, that we did not calculate
would be so unpleasant. The fissures and ravines of the
mountain were now streams of water, which before were
dry and parched; places had become slippery and danger-
ous, on which before we could have placed our feet with
firmness and safety; and, worst of all, we had arrived on
the brink of a ravine, so broad and deep, and withal foam-
ing with cataracts and flood, that made the head giddy to
behold. This gulf was the receptacle of all the storm-
created streams that flowed down the northern side of the
mountain, and the concentration of these waters had form-
ed a terrible and angry deluge. We had no alternative
but to go up or down, along the edges of the frightful
precipice of this abyss,—so we determined on the former,
as most likely to reach the much desired path we had trod-
den while ascending the mountain, but we now encoun-
tered a new difficulty that was far more formidable than
any thing we had yet contended with.

“It is a remarkable feature of that climate, especially
among the highlands, that mists and fogs arise suddenly
after storms, with a density that almost precludes belief;
but whether these are caused by the influence of a vertical
sun, assisted by the heat of the rocks over which these
waters flow, that produce a sudden evaporation, I cannot
decide; nor have I ever heard it satisfactorily accounted
for. But in one of these vapours my friend and self were
doomed to be involved, and one too, that was so imper-
vious to vision, as to preclude us from distinguishing any
object more than a few feet distance, We had by this
time reached a platform of the rock, and thinking it ex-
ceedingly hazardous ta persevere in our efforts, I earnestly

20 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

besought my companion that we should remain in our pre-
sent situation until the mists were dissipated. But my
entreaties were made in vain, and he seemed resolved to
persevere, and reach our correct path before night, or
perish in the attempt. Fatal resolution! He had ad-
vanced but a few feet, when, mistaking the density of
the curling mist for the solid rock, he stepped aside, and
was plunged into the frightful abyss! The only words
that struck my ears were, ‘help!—help!—oh!—oh!’ and
the thunder of the waters hushed his voice for ever.
Who can describe the anguish of my feelings at that fear-
ful moment? I could not see, much less could I render
him any assistance. Horror-stricken and agonized, I
threw myself, in the listlessness of sorrow, down upon
the rock, and could only give vent to my feelings by
groans and convulsive sighs. The bitterness of wo had
dried my tears, and I could‘ind no relief whithersoever I
turned my aching head. Thus I passed a night the most
eventful and wretched of my life. Towards day I fell
asleep through exhaustion, but was aroused about ten
o’clock by the shrill blast of a bugle, and springing on my
feet, I saw, a short distance from me, a group of men
with some mules. These proved to be some friends,
who had become alarmed for our safety on discovering
the storm on the mountain; and learning that our guide
had returned without us, set out themselves to find and
bring us home. I told them my melancholy tale.”

Years have since gone apace—and thou, my friend,
art passed to oblivion with the rest of departed humanity—
but the fearfulness of that night often rests upon me when
my weary limbs are stretched upon the couch. I some-
times hear thy cry of ‘help!’ and the roaring waters sing-
ing thy requiem—and, in the eagerness to save thee from
that dreaded abyss, I make an effort to grasp thee in thy
fall, when the energies of my spirit awaken me from the
delirium of a dream. M. D.

Boston, Sept. 1833.

GAME LAWS OF MARYLAND.

An Act for the preservation of Wild Fowl in the waters
of Swan Creek, Spisutie Narrows, Rumney Creek,
Bush River, and Gunpowder River, in Harford
County. Cap. 161.

‘Section 1. Be it enacted by the General Assembly
of Maryland, That from and after the first day of Septem-
ber next, it shall not be lawful for any person to shoot at

Wild Fowl in the waters of Swan Creek, Spisutie Nar-
rows, Rumney Creek, Bush River, and Gunpowder Ri-
ver, with a gun of any description, in the night time, ex-
cept from the land.

‘¢ Section 2, And be it enacted, That it shall not be
lawful for any person either in the day or at night, to shoot
at Wild Fowl in any of the waters of the rivers, creeks,
and narrows, aforesaid, with any gun, from a skiff, float,
or other boat, which may not be conyeniently fired at
arm’s length, without a rest. And any person violating
the proyisions of this act, shall be taken before some jus-
tice of the peace of said county, whose duty it shall be to
require of such offender to surrender such gun, to him the
said justice, to be sold; the proceeds of which sale said jus-
tice shall pay over the one-half to the informer; the other
half to the commissioners of said county; and, in case of _
neglect or refusal of such offender to surrender such gun,
it shall be the duty of the said justice to sentence him to
imprisonment in the county jail for thirty days, unless he
sooner delivers up said gun, according to the provisions of
this act.”?

For the Cabinet of Natural History.
‘°THE HONEST ANGLER.”

Mr. Editor:—There is something so peaceful and quiet
in the occupation of the Angler, that the very name ‘ap-
pears to invite contemplation. It has always been re-
marked, and I believe with truth, that the character of
your genuine Ingler is generally kind and benevolent,
partaking, in some measure, of the nature of his harmless
sports.

‘‘Honest Jzaak Walton,” the father of all Anglers,
says, that the talent is more of a natural than an acquired
one—that “‘it is like poetry; men are born so’?—and
surely ‘‘ Honest Izaak’? knew best.

On the banks of the Wabash, (only a Si hundred
miles west of us,) an accident lately happened to one of
the “‘ gifted few,” which is likely to bring some scandal
on the fraternity, and expose the brethren to the sneers
‘of the uninitiated.

A fine old gentlemen, and most indefatigable Angler,
who made a fishing excursion to the river almost every day,
whether the fish bit or not, went out one warm afternoon
to fish for cat, baited with a large live frog, the hook fast-
ened to one of its legs.

One of those queer, quizzing, and ruthless fellows, who

AND AMERICAN

mind every body’s business but their own—and who take
an especial fancy to vex quiet people, particularly Anglers
—followed, after some time, in the wake of the old gen-
tleman, to watch his motions, as he said. At last he found
him, seated on his favourite rock, close by the water’s
edge, with his rod stuck in the bank, resting between his
knees. The frog, tired of playing in the water, had
crawled out—and prevented by the line from going fur-
ther, was sitting very gravely alongside of the ‘Honest
Angler’’—who was fast asleep!—dreaming, no doubt, of
<¢ monstrous fine bites.”
I have seen a pencil sketch of «the pair;” it is graphic
and amusing—
“ Oh! the jolly Angler’s life,
It is the best of any.” Watton,

Cincinnati, June 8th, 1833.

CURIOUS CONTEST BETWEEN A FERRET AND
A POLECAT.

Ir was a fine afternoon in autumn, when I took my
fowling-piece, slung a couple of shooting-bags at my back,
put a well sized buck ferret in one of them, and hastened to
an extensive wood, amidst the high mountains of Wales,
which was well stocked with rabbit-burrows.

This to me is a species of sport in which I delight. My
little industrious ferret was neither expensive nor trouble-
some to keep, and none of my dogs were surer of finding
their game than he.

I entered upon my ground with the utmost caution, lest
those rabbits which are already out of their burrows should
be too soon frightened into them; for when this is the case
it is hard to make them bolt, and they will suffer them-
selves to be gnawed by the ferret before they will quit
their hiding places.

Arriving on my ground, I hid myself, and waited until
I saw two or three rabbits go of their own accord into one
burrow. I then, with the least possible noise, got to the
spot, and let the ferret in unmuzzled.

This is not a usual method, for muzzling is generally
preferred. But I found that when the rabbit refuses to
bolt, and has taken refuge at the further end of his burrow,
the ferret willremain in, scraping the fur off his back with
his paws, and after he has exhausted his strength in so
doing, will lay down to rest and sometimes sleep. On the
other hand, when unmuzzled, he forces the prey out by
fastening on its neck, or stern.

It had not been long in when a rabbit bolted.

F

T shot

RURAL SPORTS. 21
him, and before I had time to seize my prey, another
popped out a few yards off. A shot from the left-hand
barrel secured him. And thus I continued until I had
bagged two couple.

I now sat down for awhile to enjoy the beauteous
scenery about me, and to gaze upon the splendour of the
lofty mountains on the opposite side of a small valley
which separated me from them. My ferret was, as I had
imagined, safely tied up in his bag not far from my side.
But the busy rogue had made his way out, and I just had
a glimpse of his tail, as he entered a fresh burrow.

Before I could recover him, he had disappeared; I waited
some time in the hope of seeing a rabbit—none appearing,
I concluded my little slave had slept in the burrow. I
stamped on the ground, hallooed in the holes to disturb
him, but in vain; at length I applied my ear to listen.

After remaining some time in this position, I heard a
faint noise. It resembled the squeak of a ferret. I was all
astonishment; and could not account for it. I listened
again—the noise grew louder—and as if coming from
more than oneanimal. Presently, I observed the ferret’s
tail, and soon after saw that he was struggling hard to
bring something out of the burrow. :

I thought it was arabbit. The ferret continued dragging
his prize to the mouth of the hole; when to my astonish-
ment, I found him closely interlocked with a male pole-
cat; they had fastened like bull-dogs on each other’s
necks.

The polecat, when he saw me, did not quit his hold, but
redoubled his efforts, and dragged the ferret back into the
earth, and the squeaking was resumed.

I now feared for the ferret’s life, but soon observed him
again bringing his opponent to the mouth of the hole. I
drew back, hoping he might be brought out for me to take,
orshoot. -The reverse, however, happened; the polecat
again rallied, kept his hold fast, and the belligerent par-
ties once more disappeared.

I neither saw nor heard any thing of them for some
time, and again feared for my little champion’s life. But
a third time I saw him lugging out hisadversary with in-
creased vigour. He brought him to the mouth of the hole;
a desperate struggle ensued,—and just as I expected to see
the polecat defeated, the ferret, quite exhausted, relin-
quished the combat, and came hopping towards me, con-
siderably mangled about the throat; his enemy did not
dare to follow him, but stood deliberately snuffing up the
air, at the mouth of his burrow. I took aim at him, and,
strange to tell, my gun missed fire at least four or five
times, when the litile hero, turning quickly round, escaped
into the earth; foiling both auxiliaries, my ferret and my
gun.

I attribute the defeat of the ferret to the inevitable loss

Jats THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

of vigour, which every animal must suffer when confined
under the dominion of man, and restrained from those
habits of invariable instinct which, in their natural state,
produce in them the greatest height of perfection.

[Annals of Sporting.

THE SPEED AND STRENGTH OF THE OSTRICH.

Sports and pastimes, which appear to be varied accord-
ing to situation, the genius of the people, or other cir-
cumstances, not necessary now either to investigate or
detail, seem natural to all countries. Thus, while an
English sportsman is delighted with the chase of the fox,
the Greenlander experiences pleasure in pursuing the
seal; the inhabitants of New South Wales in coursing
the kangaroo, the Arab of the Desert feels sensations
equally agreeable in following, upon his beautiful steed,
the half-running, half-flying ostrich.

If we are to place confidence in travellers’ tales, the
ostrich is swifter than tlhe Arabian horse; and that when
the Arabs chase this bird, they do not immediately pursue
it in a straight direction, but by turning and twisting, and
assisting each other, they accomplish that which, by a
direct pursuit they would vainly strive to attain. I
must confess I have some difficulty in placing confidence
in relations which would make us believe that the
ostrich is swifter than the Arabian horse, or our Mnglish
racer.

During the time of Mr. Adamson’s residence at Podor,
a French factory on the south side of the river Niger, he
says, that two ostriches, which had been about two years
in the factory, afforded him a sight of a very extraordinary
nature. These gigantic birds, though young, were of
nearly the full size. ‘‘They were (he continues) so tame,
that two little blacks mounted both together on the back
of the larger. No sooner did he feel their weight than
he began to run as fast as possible, and carried them several
times round the village; and it was impossible to stop
him, otherwise than by obstructing the passage. This
sight pleased me so much that I wished it to be repeated;
and, to try their strength, directed a full-grown negro to
mount the smallest, and two others the larger. This bur-
den did not seem at all disproportioned to their strength.
At first, they went at a pretty sharp trot; but when they
became heated a little, they expanded their wings as
though to catch the wind, and moved with such fleetness,
that they scarcely seemed to touch the ground. Most
people have, one time or other, seen the partridge run;

and, consequently, must know there is no man whatever
able to keep up with it: and it is easy to imagine, that if
this bird had a longer step, its speed would be considera-
bly augmented. The ostrich moves like the partridge
with this advantage; and I am satisfied, that those IT am
speaking of would have distanced the fleetest race-horses
that were ever bred in England. It is true, they would.
not hold out so long as a horse, but they would, undoubt-
edly, be able to go over the space in less time. I haye
frequently beheld this sight, which is capable of giving
one an idea of the prodigious strength of the ostrich,
and of showing what use it might be of, had we but the
method of breaking and managing it as we do the
horse. ”’—Jbid.

INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN.
No. VII.

In the present number of my instructions, I shall con-
fine myself to Grouse Shooting—embracing, under that
head, the variety of these birds found in different parts of
this country. I shall, therefore, impress on your mind,
that there are already six different species of Grouse found
in the United States, and the territories belonging to it,
viz. the Ruffed Grouse—the Pinnated Grouse—the Spot-
ted Grouse—the Dusky Grouse—the Sharp-tailed Grouse
—and the Cock of the Plains. The most common on
this list is the Ruffed Grouse, and is much better known
throughout the country than any of the other species. It
is that bird which is usually called and known as the Phea-
sant, and is found in every state of the Union, more par-
ticularly in the northern, middle, and western states. It
is a bird at all times difficult of access, except when it is
met in an undisturbed state in the wilds of the country,
and it sees man for the first time; but in populous parts, it
generally seeks the most dense thickets of low lands, and
difficult parts of hills and mountains,—and its shy and
solitary disposition renders it one of the most difficult
birds to shoct, as it always shuns the traveller or sports-
man, and seeks shelter in places almost inaccessible.

To hunt the Ruffed Grouse successfully, two persons
should be employed, and with but one good, careful old
dog, that will not run far ahead; and as these birds mostly
resort to swampy thickets in the midst of woods, it will be
well for one to go on each side of the same, while the dog
is cautiously hunting the centre. You must not suffer
your dog to range too far from you, as the bird, before it

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 23

takes flight, will frequently run a short distance, and then
dart off with incredible velocity. Should you be hunting
on hill sides, one should always hunt at the base, and the
other some distance up, or on the hill-top,—the former
keeping in advance of his companion and dog, for it often
occurs, that the bird will rise some distance ahead of the
object that appears to be following it, and an opportunity
is thus afforded to the advanced Sportsman of getting a
favourable shot, while the other can view the course the
bird may take, in case it should escape.

A Pheasant will always fly in an opposite direction to
its pursuer; but if two are thus hunting, it is more than
probable the bird will make its line of flight direct be-
tween them, and give, perhaps, both shooters an opportu-
nity of killing it. These birds will sometimes settle in
trees or bushes, when driven up by a dog, merely to avoid
the same, as it would every other enemy of the brute
kind; but if the bird does this, you may rest assured it is
either insensible of human presence, or ignorant as yet of
its nature. For in almost every instance, the bird rushes
from the voice and footsteps of man, as its most dreaded
enemy.

Although this Grouse is a solitary bird, it often hap-
pens, late in the fall, two, or even more, will associate to-
gether,—and whenever the Sportsman, at this time, should
spring one bird, he should always be on the alert for
another.

At the close of September, and until the middle of Octo-
ber, I have found these birds yet congregated in flocks,
under the parental care, even in some cases until they are
fully grown; but this has generally been in those parts
where they have remained unmolested in the enjoyment
of social intercourse. At such a time they may be fol-
lowed very successfully; but when disturbed repeatedly
by a human creature, the flock becomes separated, and they
never again unite. In shooting these birds I have always
employed an ordinary size double gun, and never larger
than No. 5, but generally No. 6 shot. For a more parti-
cular account of the Ruffed Grouse, the reader is referred
to page 13, Vol. I. of the «* Cabinet of Natural History.”

The Pinnated Grouse, however, has usually ranked
first in the list of our feathered game, and whenever you
hear Sportsmen talk of Grouse shooting, they always al-
lude to this bird.

Most Sportsmen know only of the existence of this one
species as a Grouse,—as the former bird is usually called
the Pheasant, (by some the Partridge,) and the four latter,
hy their remoteness, seem only to be known to natural-
ists, and a few travellers. Therefore, when the Sports-
man or public are speaking of Grouse, they mean the
Pinnated Grouse.

This bird exists no where but on plains and barren moun-
tains, protected only by high grass and small shrubbery,
and is seldom seen in the neighbourhood of water. Its thirst
is satisfied by dew-drops and rain; and in consequence of
this habit, it is rendered an object of laborious pursuit
both to Sportsmen and dogs, as the excessive fatigue in
hunting creates violent thirst, and no water being at hand
to relieve them, the dogs often are obliged to give over,
frequently before half of the day is expended. To remedy
this, Sportsmen are obliged to carry water for themselves
and dogs to some spot convenient on the ground they in-
tend to range.

The Pinnated Grouse is found in New-Jersey, within
twenty-five miles of Philadelphia, but not in numbers.
They have been persecuted and killed, and almost exter-
minated, by Sportsmen from Philadelphia, the towns of New
Jersey, and the immediate neighbourhood of the plains,
who destroy them so early in the season, that they be-
come easy and sure victims to the rapacity of these un-
feeling men.

In consequence of the labour and expense attending
Grouse shooting, and the uncertainty of success, most
Sportsmen shrink from the pursuit, and it is confined, in
the Atlantic states, to but comparatively a few indivi-
duals, and these are inhabitants of New-York, New-Jer-
sey, and Pennsylvania; and the parts now resorted to
by them, are the Plains of Long Island, and those of
Gloucester, Burlington, and Monmouth counties of New-
Jersey, and the Pocono and Broad Mountains, of Penn-
sylvania, and the whole range of high lands east of them
to the river Delaware. It is ascertained that these birds
are found in small numbers also on Martha’s Vineyard.

The prairies of the west, however, are the chief abode
of this interesting bird, where they exist in multitudes,
and often become nuisances to residents in those parts, in
consequence of the numbers which visit farms and other
settlements, in particular seasons of the year, and are fre-
quently destroyed, not for any value attached to the bird,
but to prevent the injury which might otherwise accrue
from their great numbers.

To hunt Grouse properly, you should always be sup-
plied with a reserve of dogs, not having less than four, and
from that number to eight, according to the strength of
your company. This number should be divided so as to
hunt them on alternate days. For this hunting, the
Pointer is superior to the Setter, as he can sustain heat
and thirst much better.

In the whole range of our sports there is none so fatiguing,
or that tests theenergies of the hunter‘and his dogs so much
as Grouse shooting, for it occurs during that season when the
sun is yet in its full power, (September and beginning of

24 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

October,)—the country over which you roam is either
barren mountains or endless plains,—no shelter from the
sun, nor supplies of water to slake the thirst,—and a con-
tinued growth of scrub bushes to pass through, injurious to
the dogs, and exceedingly difficult for the Sportsmen to
overcome. Besides, you often wander a day or more with-
out seeing a bird; and, after exhausting all this time, your
strength, and patience, you are obliged to return many
miles, on foot, to some habitation for the night. It re-
quires, also, that you should hunt with great caution and
quietness; the human voice should never be heard, espe-
cially if your dogs have struck a trail, and are in the
vicinity of the game. You must then be on the alert,—
and when your dogs draw to a steady point, your chief
object must be to kill the first bird that rises—for a pack
of Grouse may be at hand, and by silence, and killing the
first bird, you stand a fair chance of getting the remainder.

The bird which usually rises first, is the leader of the
whole, and is the parent cock bird,—and if he is not
killed before he chadlenges oralarms the others, you may
lose several fine chances, because the remainder, on hear-
ing the ery of alarm from their leader, will immediately
take wing, and escape. But if, on the contrary, the alarm is
prevented, the others will remain in their seclusion, until
you can at leisure drive them up one by one, and get the
whole. The report of your gun will not alarm them,—
but a single word spoken, will spoil your sport. It is to
be understood, however, that your dogs must be of the
first order—perfectly staunch—and which will not break
away on your fire; at this time the birds may be scattered
about, either wallowing in the earth, or in search of food,
and forms one of the most propitious periods for the
Sportsman.

Should you be successful in the early part of the day,
or on your outward range, by bagging several birds, it
will be advisable to disencumber yourself from your
burthen—provided you calculate to return nearly the same
route. In doing this, you must first select a cool spot,
under the shadow of some rocks, or the most dense shrub-
bery you can find, and after scraping away the surface of
the earth, there deposit your game. You must cover it
with moss, if you can get it, or green leaves, and on this,
or around it, place two or three pieces of tow, with burnt
powder on it, which you can procure by wiping your gun.
The object of this is to preserve the game from vermin,
particularly foxes, which it will effectually do. One im-
portant point to observe, is, that you should tie the neck
of each bird so completely tight as to admit no air; and
plug the vent with charcoal, prepared for the purpose by
being cut into a form somewhat like a sugar-loaf, only ta-
pering toasharp point. This will preserve the birds a

much longer time than if omitted; and no Sportsman
should think these preparations too troublesome, on an
expedition of that kind. The difficulty of killing the
birds, and the labour and expense attending these excur-
sions, make it desirable that all means should be resorted
to, to bring your game home in a good state of preservation.

The Pinnated Grouse describes a straight, but very
long line of flight. You must, therefore, mark their
course, as correct as you can, and after you have adjusted
matters, follow immediately in their wake. You thereby
not only stand a fair chance of coming on the same birds
again, but of finding others in your route.

In respect to the size of shot to be employed, many
Grouse hunters use larger sizes than are necessary, say B,.
1, 2, 3. But in this, as in other cases, I have a great
aversion to large shot. Grouse are generally hunted be-
fore they are matured, or fully fledged, and much
smaller shot is capable of destroying them, than either of
the above sizes. I would recommend you never to use:
larger than No. 3, but of choice No. 4 or 5.

If your gun is of 11-16ths calibre, and proportionably
heavy, she will be found suitable for the purpose; but you,.
of course, must use more powder and shot at Grouse than
you would at smaller game.

I have often wondered why Sportsmen should so sel-
dom hunt the Ruffed Grouse. In size, it nearly equals
the Pinnated Grouse, and, in the fall, I think is quite as.
good eating. And what appears more strange, is, that
gentlemen will incur great expense,—travel fifty or a
hundred miles, with a train of dogs,—spend one or two:
weeks in pursuit, and generally return with no more than
four or five brace of the latter. Whereas half the time and
expense will answer, with two good dogs, to insure thrice:
the success with the former, from grounds more adjacent.

The Spotted Grouse is less known than either of the
foregoing species, as they are not to be found in any of the
middle, southern, or western states; they inhabit the north
part of Maine, the Canadas, and the regions of the Rocky
Mountains. To the north they are called the Spruce
Partridge and Canada Grouse; but larger and more valua-
ble game exists in such abundance there, that the Spotted
Grouse is thought unworthy of the hunter’s notice. The
portrait and history of this bird will be given in No. 4,
Vol. III. page 85, of this work.

The other three species are found only in the far wee

particularly the Cock of the Plains, which inhabits that
country beyond the Rocky Mountains, particularly the
low lands along the Columbia river, and in size is as large
as the female Turkey. These of course cannot be objects
of pursuit, by the Sportsmen of this or the next genera-
tion. I.

ee

;
j

In consequence of sickness, the Editor has not been able to issue this Number
so early as he calculated, but the superior embellishments it contains, and those that
will appear in the future Numbers, he hopes, will satisfy his subscribers, for any
patience they may have exercised on account of the delay.

THE

CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

AND

AMBRICAN RURAL SPORTS

Is pEsIgNED to embrace the higher and more interesting branches of Zoology;
viz: Ornithology and Mammalogy, together with an account of the sports and pas-
times of North America. .

This work will be issued in numbers, about every five weeks, in a quarto form,
and printed with new type on fine royal paper. Hach number will contain twenty-
four pages of closely printed matter, and embellished with two beautiful coloured
plates, of Birds and Quadrupeds, drawn from nature, and executed in the best
style, with a perfect history of each object so represented. It will also contain
many interesting Anecdotes, relating to Natural History, and all other subjeet
which may give interest, comportable with the spirit of the work, as connected
with fishing, hunting, and shooting parties, the various clubs established for gym-
nastic exercises, aquatic sports, &c. &e.

TERMS—Hight Dollars per annum, payable in advance.
J. DOUGHTY,
No. 5, Library street, Philadelphia

Persons procuring eight subscribers, and remitting the money to me, shall
receive nine copies of the work

{(F Notes of solvent Banks, of a less denomination than Five Dollars, taken
in payment for subscriptions to this work. :

A thirteenth number will be added to the above, which will contain the Por-
irait of a Naturalist and his Biography.

AGENTS

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HI:TORW.

AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Matne—Samuel Colman, Portland.

Massacuuserts—Allen and Ticknor, Boston; Charles Whipple, Newdur Pao

Raope Istanp— , Providence.

Connecticur—Hezekiah Fae, New-Haven.

New-Yorr— , New-York City; Weare C. Little, Albany and Sche-
nectady; G. J. Grosvenor, Esq. P. M., Geneva; John De Witt, West
Point; Aaron Belknap, Esq., Newburgh; P. Potter, Poughieensie; Craw-
ford Livingston, Hudson; Wm. $8. Parker, Troyand Lansingburgh; H. & EB.
Phinney, Ufica and Little Falls: J.S. V. Yates, Syracuse; 1. Ivison & Co.,
Auburn; Bemis & Ward, Canandaigua, Samuel Drake, Rochester.

New-Jersry—H. R. Merseilles, Bridgetown. 5

PrnnsyLtyanza—Aaron Lambert, New-Hope; James Peacock, P. M., Harrisburg.

Maryrranp—k. J. Coale, & Co., Baltimore; Dennis Claude, Annapolis.

District or Corumpra—Pishey Thompson, Washington City; R. Zimmerman,
Alexandria.

Virernra—John W. Campbell, ae E. P. Nash, Norfolk; R.1. Smith,
Richmond; William F. Gray, P. M., Fredericksburg.

Norra Caron arene & Hughes, Raleigh.

Sours Carotina—W. H. Berritt, Char leston; Alexander Young, Camden; B.
D. & T. H. Plant, Columbia.

Grorera—Richards & Ganahl, Augusta; William T. Williams, Savannah.

TENNESSEE—HMichbaum & Norvell, Nashville.

Oxnro—Jostan Drake & Co., Cincinnati; B. Larnam, P. M., Columbus,

AWERICAN RURAL SPORTS,

ILLUSTRATIONS,

A MONTHLY PUBLICATION.

VOL. II.

AHtlavelppta :
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOUGHTY, NO. 5, LIBRARY STREET, ABOVE FOURTH.

WILLIAM STAVELY, PRINTER.

INDEX

TO THE

’

SECOND NUMBER, VOLUME III.

Indigo Bird, Natural size.

Puarte III. Golden-winged Warbler,
Branch of the Dog-wood,

History of the Golden-winged Warbler, - - -
a <¢ Indigo Bird, - - - - -
ae 6¢ Dogwood - = - cee caine e
Ot << Beaver, —(concluded, ) - - -
Notes of a Naturalist—By Jacos Grezyv, M.D. - : -

Prats IV. Red Flamingo.

History of the Red Flamingo, - - Ge =

A Notice of the Ducks, and Shooting of the Chesapeake Bay,

Deer Hunting, - - = = _ = S
On the preservation of the Partridge, - - -
The Scotch Doctor and the Jackalls, - ~ - -
The Humming Bird, - - b = e ny

To prevent Hydrophobia, - 2 = a

Efficacy of Ammonia in curing the Stings of Bees, and counteracting other

Poisons, - - = 2 = I

EE SOT OO EO TD Orel ee Se ee eee ae

“UAH VM OS ONIM NUaGTOD

“ure OOLGNT

Uf.
EME IU) MY RVR? Uivife

ALAA GUA UL Iz YB DLL UM D.27-

TWH Td THe

hit Pai:

ace

i

rin i ah nomi pe pena
sh ia Me li saath pe:

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 25

GOLDEN-WINGED WARBLER.
SYLVIA CHRYSOPTERA.

[Plate III. Vol. 3.]

Epw. 299.—Le figuier aux ailes dorees, Burr. v. 311.—
Lara. 1. 492.—rct. Zool. 403, No. 295. Ib. No.
296.—Motacilla chrysoptera, Turt. Syst. 1. 597.—
Motacilla flavifrons, Yellow-fronted Warbler, Id.
601.—Parus alis aureis, Bartram, p. 292.—Mota-
cilla chrysoptera, Linn. Syst. 1. p. 333.—Gmnert. Syst.
I. p. 971.—Motacilla flavifrons, GME. Syst. 1. p. 976.
—Sylvia chrysoptera, Lata. Ind. Orn. u. p. 541.—
Vieitu. Otis. de Am. Sept. pl. 97. Sylvia flavifrons,
Laru. Ind. Orn. u. p. 527.—Collection of L. J. Sa-
LAIGNAC, Esq.

[On a branch of Dog-wood.]

Tuis is another spring passenger through the United
States to the north. This bird, from the particular form of
its bill, ought rather to be separated from the Warblers,
or, along with several others of the same kind, might be
arranged as a sub genus, or particular family of that tribe,
which might with propriety be called Wormeaters, the
Motacilla vermivora of Turton, having the bill exactly
of this form. The habits of these birds partake a good
deal of those of the Titmouse, and in their language and
action they very much resemble them. All that can be
said of this species is, that it appears in Pennsylvania for a
few days, about the last of April or beginning of May,
darting actively among the young leaves and opening buds,
and is rather a scarce species.

The Golden-winged Warbler is five inches long, and
seven broad; the crown golden yellow; the first and second
row of wing coverts of the same rich yellow; the rest of
the upper parts a deep ash, or dark slate colour; tail
slightly rounded, and, as well as the wings, edged with
whitish; a black band passes through the eye, and is sepa-
rated from the yellow of the crown by a fine line of white;
chin and throat black, between which, and that passing
through the eye runs a strip of white, asin the figure;
belly and vent white; upper mandibill black, gradually
tapering to a sharp point; legs dark ash; irides hazel.

Pennant has described this species twice, first as the
Golden-winged Warbler, and immediately after as the
Yellow-fronted Warbler. See the synonymes at the be-
ginning of this article. —Wzitson.

G

INDIGO BIRD.
FRINGILLA CYANEA.
[Plate Ill. Vol. 3.]

Tanagra cyanea, Linn. Syst. 1. 315.—Le Ministre,
Burron, tv. 96.—Jndigo Bunting, Arct. Zool. u. No.
235.—Lara. Syn. ut. 205, 63.—Blue Linnet, Enw.
273.—Linaria cyanea, Bartram, p. 290.—Collection
of L. J. Satatenac, Esq.

[On a branch of Dog-woed.]

Tus is another of those rich-plumaged tribes, that visit
us in spring from the regions of the south. It arrives in
Pennsylvania on the second week in May, and disappears
about the middle of September. It is numerous in all the
settled parts of the middle and eastern states; in the Caro-
linas and Georgia it is also abundant. Though Catesby
says that it is only found at a great distance from the sea;
yet round the city of New-York, and in many places along
the shores of New-Jersey, I have met with them in plenty.
I may also add, on the authority of Mr. William Bartram,
that “they inhabit the continent and sea-coast islands,
from Mexico to Nova-Scotia, from the sea-coast west be-
yond the Apalachian and Cherokee mountains.”” They
are also known in Mexico, where they probably winter.
Its favourite haunts, while with us, are about gardens,
fields of deep clover, the borders of woods, and road
sides, where it is frequently seen perched on the fences.
In its manners it is extremely active and neat; and a
vigorous and pretty good songster. It mounts to the high-
est tops of a large tree, and chants for half an hour at a
time. Its song is not one continued strain, but a repeti-
tion of short notes, commencing loud and rapid, and fall-
ing by almost imperceptible gradations for six or eight
seconds, till they seem hardly articulate, as if the little
minstrel were quite exhausted; and after a pause of half a
minute or less commences again as before. Some of our
birds sing only in spring, and then chiefly in the morning,
being comparatively mute during the heat of noon; but
the Indigo bird chants with as much animation under the
meridian sun, in the month of July, as in the month of
May; and continues his song, occasionally, to the middle
or end of August. His usual note, when alarmed by an
approach to his nest, is a sharp chip, like that of striking
two hard pebbles smartly together.

Notwithstanding the beauty of his plumage, the vivacity
with which he sings, and the ease with which he can be

26 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

reared and kept, the Indigo bird is seldom seen domesti-
cated. ‘The few I have met with were taken in trap-
cages; and such of any species rarely sing equal to those
which have been reared by hand from the nest. There is
one singularity, which as it cannot be well represented in
the figure, may be mentioned here, viz. that in some cer-
tain lights his plumage appears of a rich sky-blue, and in
others of a vivid verdigrise green;* so that the same bird,.in
passing from one place to another before your eyes, seems
to undergo a total change of colour. When the angle of
incidence of the rays of light, reflected from his plumage,
is acute, the colour is green, when obtuse, blue. SuchI
think Ihave observed tobe uniformly the case, without beiug
optician enough to explain why it isso. From this, how-
ever, must be excepted the colour of the head, which being
of avery deep blue, is not affected by a change of position.

The nest of this bird is usually built in a low bush
among rank grass, grain or clover; suspended by two
twigs, one passing up each side; and is composed outward-
ly of flax, and lined with fine dry grass. I have also
known it to build in the hollow of an apple tree. The
eggs, generally five, are blue, with a blotch of purple at
the great end.

The Indigo bird is five inches long, and seven inches in
extent; the whole body is of a rich sky blue, deepening
on the head to an ultramarine, with a tinge of purple; the
blue on the body, tail, and wings, varies in particular lights
to a light green, or verdigrise colour, similar to that on the
breast of a peacock; wings black, edged with light blue,
and becoming brownish towards the tips; lesser coverts
light blue; greater black, broadly skirted with the same
blue; tail black, exteriorly edged with blue; bill
black above, whitish below, somewhat larger than
Finches of the same size usually are, but less than
those of the genus Emberiza, with which Pennant has
classed it, though I think improperly, as the bird has
much more of the form and manners of the genus Frin-
gilla, where I must be permitted to place it; legs and feet
blackish brown. _The female is of a light flaxen colour,
with the wings dusky black, and the cheeks, breast, and
whole lower parts a clay colour, with streaks of a darker
colour under the wings, and tinged in several places with
bluish. Towards fall the male while moulting becomes
nearly of the colour of the female, and in one which I kept
through the winter, the rich plumage did not return for
more than two months; though I doubt not had the bird
enjoyed his liberty and natural food under a warm sun,
this brownness would have been of shorter duration. The
usual food of this species is insects and various kinds of
seeds,—J0.

* See figure in Plate III. Vol. 3.

DOG-WOOD.

CORNUS FLORIDA.

A Branch, with Leaves and Flowers of the natural size. Plate Ill. Vol. 3.

Amone the eight species of Dog-wood, which have
been observed in North America, this alone is entitled, by
its size, to be classed with the forest trees. It is the most
interesting, too, for the value of its wood, the properties
of its bark, and the beauty of its flowers. In the United
States at large, it is known by the name of Dog-wood, and
in Connecticut it is also called Box-wood.

The Dog-wood is first seen in Massachusetts, between
the 42° and 43° of latitude, and in proceeding southward,
it is met with uninterruptedly throughout the eastern and
western states and the two Floridas, to the banks of the
Mississippi. Over this vast extent of country, it is one
of the most common trees, and it abounds particularly in
New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia,
wherever the soil is moist, gravelly, and uneven; farther
south, in the Carolinas, Georgia, and the Floridas, it is
found only in the borders of swamps, and never in pine
barrens, where the soil is too dry and sandy to sustain its
vegetation. - In the most fertile regions of Kentucky,
and West Tennessee, it does not appear in the forest,
except where the soil is gravelly, and of middling quality.

The Dog-wood sometimes reaches thirty or thirty-five
feet in height, and nine or ten inches in diameter; but it
does not generally exceed the height of eighteen or
twenty feet, and the diameter of four or five inches. The
trunk is strong, and is covered with a blackish bark,
chapped into many small portions, which are often in the
shape of squares, more or less exact. ‘The branches are
proportionably less numerous than on other trees, and are
regularly disposed nearly in the form of crosses. The
young twigs are observed to incline upwards in a semi-
circular direction.

The leaves are opposite, about three inches in length,
oval, of a dark green above, and whitish beneath; the
upper surface-is very distinctly sulcated. ‘Towards the
close of summer, they are often marked with black spots,
and at the approach of winter they change to a dull red.

In New-York and New-Jersey, the flowers are fully
blown about the 10th or 18th of May, while the leaves
are only beginning to unfold themselves. The flowers
are small, yellowish, and collected in bunches, which are
surrounded with a very large involuere, composed of
four white floral leaves, sometimes inclining to violet.
This fine involuere constitutes all the beauty of the flow-
ers, which are very numerous, and which, in their season,

AND AMERICAN

robe the tree in white, like a full blown apple tree, and
render it one of the fairest ornaments of the American
forest.

The seeds, of a vivid, glossy red, and of an oval shape,
are always united; they remain upon the trees till the
first frosts, when, notwithstanding their bitterness, they
are devoured by the Robin, (ZTurdus Migratorius,)
which about this period arrives from the northern re-
gions.

The wood is hard, compact, heavy, and fine grained;
and is susceptible of a brilliant polish. The sap is perfectly
white, and the heart is of chocolate colour. This tree is
not large enough for works which require pieces of consi-
derable volume; it is used for the handles of light tools,
such as mallets, small vices, &c. In the country, some
farmers select it for harrow teeth, for the frames of horses’
collars, and also for lining the runners of sledges; but to
whatever purpose it is applied, being liable to split, it
should never be wrought till it is perfectly seasoned. The
shoots, when three or four years old, are found proper for
the light hoops of small, portable casks; but the consump-
tion in this way is inconsiderable. In the middle states
the cogs of mill wheels are made of Dog-wood, and its di-
vergent branches are taken for the yokes which are put
upon the necks of swine, to prevent their breaking into
cultivated enclosures. Such are the profitable uses of this
tree; it affords also excellent fuel, but it is too small to be
brought into the markets of the cities.

The liber, or interior bark of the Dog-wood, is extreme-
ly bitter, and proves an excellent remedy in intermitting

RURAL SPORTS. 27

fevers. It has been known and successfully used by the
country people, as a specific in these maladies, for more
than fifty years. Its medicinal properties were made the
subject of a thesis sustained in the College of Physic at
Philadelphia, in 1803; in which was presented an analysis
of the bark of the Dog-wood, and the blue berried Dog-
wood, compared with the Peruvian bark. By the experi-
ment made on the occasion, the Dog-wood bark was shown
to have a close analogy to the Peruvian bark, and to be
capable, in many cases, of supplying its place with suc-
cess. The author of this excellent piece cites a Physician
of Pennsylvania, who, during twenty years, had constant-
ly employed it, and who estimated 35 grains of it to be
equivalent to 30 grains of the Peruvian bark. The only
inconvenience. accompanying its use was, that if taken
within a year after being stript from the tree, it sometimes
occasioned acute pains of the bowels; but this evil was
remedied by adding to it five grains of Virginia snake
root, (aristolochia serpentaria.)

The same author gives a receipt for making an excel-
lent ink, in which this bark is substituted for gall nuts:—
Put half an ounce of Dog-wood bark—2 scruples of sul-
phate of iron—and 2 scruples of gum arabic, into 16
ounces of rain water; during the infusion shake it repeat-
edly.

The Dog-wood merits the attention of Europeans, for
the value of its wood, and especially for the brilliancy of
its flowers, —by which it is better adapted than almost any
other North American tree, to the embellishment of
forests, parks, and extensive gardens.—Michauz.

THE BEAVER—(Concluded from page 9.)

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

‘¢The beaver is an animal which cannot keep under
water long at a time; so that when their houses are broke
open, and all their places of retreat discovered, they have
but one choice left, as it may be called, either to be taken
in their houses or their vaults: in general they prefer the
latter; for where there is one beaver caught in the house,
many thousands are taken in their vaults in the banks.
Sometimes they are caught in nets, and in the summer
very frequently in traps. In winter they are very fat
and delicious; but the trouble of rearing their young, the
thinness of their hair, and their constantly roving from
place to place, with the trouble they have in providing
against the approach of winter, generally keep them very
poor during the summer season, at which time their flesh

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

<¢ Fach tribe has its peculiar territory. If any foreigner
be taken in the act of marauding, he is delivered over to
the chief, who, on the first offence, chastises him with a
view to correction; but, for the second, deprives him of
his tail, which is considered as the greatest disgrace to
which a Beaver can be exposed; for the tail is the carriage
on which he conveys stones, mortar, provisions, &c. and
it is also the trowel (the figure of which it represents ex-
actly) which he uses in building. This violation of inter-
national rights, however, is considered among them as so
great an outrage, that the whole tribe of the mutilated
culprit take up arms in his cause, and proceed immedi-
ately to obtain vengeance.

‘<In this conflict, the victors, availing themselves of the

28 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AUTHENTIC HISTORY.—Continued.

is but indifferent eating, and their skins of so little value,
that the Indians generally singe them, even to the amount
of many thousands in one summer. They have from two
to five young, at atime. Mr. Dobbs, in his account of
Hudson’s Bay, enumerates no less than eight different
kinds of beaver; but it must be understood that they are
all of one kind and species; his’ distinctions arise wholly
from the different seasons of the-year in which they are
killed, and the different uses to which their skins are ap-
plied, which is the sole reason that they vary so much in
value. :

‘¢ Joseph Lefranc, or Mr. Dobbs for him, says, that a
good hunter can kill six hundred beaver in one season, and
can only carry one hundred to market. If that was
really the case in Lefranc’s time, the canoes must have
been much smaller than they are at present; for it is
well known that the generality of the canoes which have
visited the Company’s Factories for the last forty or fifty
years, are capable of carrying three hundred beaver-skins
with great ease, exclusive of the Indian’s luggage, pro-
visions, &c.

‘¢If ever a particular Indian killed six hundred beaver
in one winter, (which is rather to be doubted,) it is more
than probable that many in his company did not kill
twenty, and perhaps some none at all; so that by distri-
buting them among those who had bad success, and others
who had no abilities for that kind of hunting, there would
be no necessity of leaving them to rot, or for singing them
in the fire, as related by that author. During my resi-
dence among the Indians I have known some individuals
kill more beaver, and other heavy furs, in the course of
a winter, than their wives could manage; but the overplus
was never wantonly destroyed, but always given to their
relations, or to those who had been less successful; so that
the whole of the great hunter’s labours were always brought
to thefactory. It is indeed too frequently a custom among
the southern Indians to singe many otters, as well as
beaver; but this is seldom done, except in summer, when
their skins are of so little value as to be scarcely worth the
duty; on which account it has been always thought im-
politic to encourage the natives to kill such valuable ani-

_ mals at a time when their skins are not in season.

<¢ The white beaver, mentioned by Lefranc, are so rare,
that instead of being ‘blown upon by the Company’s
Factors,’ as he asserts, I rather doubt whether one-tenth of
them ever saw one during the time of their residence in
this country. In the course of twenty years experience

in the countries about Hudson’s Bay, though I tra-
yelled six hundred miles to the west of the sea-coast,

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

customary rights of war, expel the conquered from their
home, take possession of it themselves, appoint a provi-
sional garrison for the occupation, and eventually estab-
lish in it a colony of young Beavers. In this connexion,
another circumstance relating to these truly wonderful
creatures will appear not less astonishing.

‘©The female Beaver whelps usually in the month of
April, and produces as many as four young ones. She
sustains, and carefully instructs them for a year, that is,
till the family are on the eve of a new increase; and then
these young Beavers, compelled thus to make room for
others, build a new home by the side of the paternal man-
sion, if they be not very numerous; but if there should be
too many to admit of this, they are obliged to go, with
others, to a new spot, forming a new tribe anda new estab-
lishment. If, then, about this season the enemy should
happen to be driven from his quarters, the conquerors
install in them their own young ones of the current year,
provided they be duly qualified for emancipation; or, in
other words, capable of managing for themselves.

«¢ The Indians have related to me asa positive fact, ano-
ther circumstance respecting the conduct of these ani-
mals; but it is so extraordinary, thatI leave you to credit
it or not, as you may think proper.

‘¢ They allege, and some will even assert themselves to
have been eye-witnesses of such a fact, that the two chiefs
of hostile tribes sometimes terminate the quarrel by a single
combat, in presence of the two opposing armies, instances
of which have occurred in various nations; or by a con-
flict of three with three, like the Horatii and Curatii of
antiquity.

‘¢ Beavers practise the usage of matrimony, and death
alone separates the parties. They inflict heavy punish-
ments on their females for infidelity, and sometimes even
death itself.

‘In cases of sickness, they mutually and anxiously
take care of each other; and the sick express their pain by
plaintive sounds and tones like the human race.

‘¢The Indians hunt the Beaver in the same way in
which I formerly described them to you as hunting the
musk-rat: indeed the latter animal may be considered asa
Beaver of a secondary order. It is of the same shape, only
smaller, and resembles it in many of its qualities, but its
fur is very inferior in beauty and fineness. It may be
added, that in winter the Indians make holes in the ice
which covers the ponds surrounding the habitation of the
Beavers, and, carefully watching for the moment when
they lift up their heads to take breath, instantly shoot
them. ;

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

I never saw but one white beaver-skin, and it had many
reddish and brown hairs along the ridge of the back, and
the sides and belly were of a glossy silvery white. It
was deemed by the Indians a great curiosity; and I offered
three times the usual price for a few of them, if they
could be got; but in the course of ten years that I re-
mained there afterward, I could not procure another;
which is a convincing proof there is no such thing as a
-breed of that kind, and that a variation from the usual
colour is very rare.

«‘ Black Beaver, and that of a beautiful gloss, are not
uncommon: perhaps they are more plentiful at Churchill
than at any other Factory in the Bay; but itis rare to get
more than twelve or fifteen of their skins in the course of
one year’s trade.

« Lefranc, as an Indian, must have known better than
to have informed Mr. Dobbs that the Beaver have from ten
to fifteen young at a time; or if he did, he must have
deceived him wilfully: for the Indians, by killing them
in all stages of gestation, have abundant opportunities of
ascertaining the usual number of their offspring. I have
seen some hundreds of them killed at the seasons favour-
ble for those observations, and never could discover more
than six young in one female, and that only in two in-
stances; for the usual number, as I have before observed,
is from two to five.

« Besides this unerring method of ascertaining the real
number of young which any animal has ata time, there
is another rule to go by, with respect to the Beaver, which
experience has proved to the Indians never to vary or de-
ceive them, that is by dissection; for on examining the
womb of a beaver, even at a time when not with young,
there is always found a hardish round knob for every young
she had at the last litter. This is a circumstance I have
been particularly careful to examine, and can affirm it to
be true, from real experience.

‘¢ Most of the accounts, nay, I may say all the accounts
now extant, respecting the Beaver, are taken from the
authority of the French who have resided in Canada; but
those accounts differ so much from the real state and ceco-
nomy of all the Beaver to the north of that place, as to
leave great room to suspect the truth of them altogether.
In the first place, the assertion that they have two doors
to their houses, one on the land side, and the other next the
water, is, as | have before observed, quite contrary to fact
and common sense, as it would render their houses of no
use to them, either as places of shelter from the incle-
mency of the extreme cold in winter, or as a retreat from
their common enemy the quiquehatch. The only thing

H

-joicing to their master, the king, with the glad tidings.

29

FICTITIOUS HISTORY—Continued.

‘Great Hare, at Bloody Lake, confidently assured me
that, on reaching the spot where two tribes of Beavers
had just been engaged in battle with each other, he had
found upon the field fifteen, dead or dying; and other
Indians, both Sioux and Cypowais, have equally declared
that they have occasionally obtained capital prizes on the
like occasions. It is perfectly correct that they are some-
times taken without a tail. I have seen one in that state
myself, which corroborates the history of the punishment
inflicted by them on obstinate offenders. In short, these
animals are deemed so very extraordinary, even by In-
dians, that they consider them as men metamorphosed
into Beavers; and killing them is regarded as conferring
upon them a very essential service, as it is conceived to
be a restoration of them to their original state of being.
Here, again, my dear Countess, is a puzzle for those who
are desirous of compacting the religion of these tribes into
a system !”’— Beltrami.*

‘¢ Ttoftentimes happens that asingle Beaver lives retired,
and itis then styled by furriers, a hermzt; they say it is turn-
ed out from the family because it is lazy and will not
work. All hermit Beavers have a black mark on the in-
side of the skin upon their backs, called a saddle, which
distinguishes them. . Fidelity is supposed to cause her-
mit Beavers, as they are very faithful creatures to their
mate; and by some accident or other losing that mate,
they either will not pair again, or remain single until they
can find another hermit of the contrary sex; and that the
saddle proceeds from the want of a partner to keep their
back warm!”?—4 Story of the Hunters.

(Concluded.)

* This author, who styles himself “ J. C. Beltrami, Esq. formerly Judge
of a Royal Court in the Ex-kingdom of Italy,” is what may truly be called a
“romancing traveller,” who, after making a tour through several kingdoms of
Europe, came to America, and, as he says, discovered the sources of the
Mississippi!!!

This looks very much like the affair of those Dutch navigators, who,
some time since, were exulting because they had discovered some new
islands in the Pacific,—and, after having christened them—went home re-
It however turned
out afterwards, that these islands had been known and visited, many years
before, by some Yankee whale ships.

But Beltrami wrote his work entirely for the ladies of Italy, to whom he
dedicated it, through a favourite Italian Countess, and therefore had to
make out some marvellous tales. But the best of the joke is, that this
author was not only most inquisitive, but credulous of every thing re-
lated to him; and his notice of the Beaver, which is inserted above, was
told with great gravity to the above author, by an officer of the
United States army, and some Indian hunters, merely to see how much he
could swallow! ‘This took place in the camp at Council Bluffs, under Ma-
jor Long’s expedition, which place Beltrami often visited, while he travel-

30

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

that could have made M. Du Pratz, and other French
writers, conjecture that such a thing did exist, must have
been from having seen some old beaver-houses which had
been taken by the Indians; for they are always obliged
to make a hole in one side of the house before they can
drive them out; and it is more than probable that in so
mild a climate as Canada, the Indians generally make
those holes on the land side, which without doubt gave
rise to the suggestion. The Northern Indians think that
the sagacity of the Beaver directs them to make that part
of their house which fronts the north much thicker than
any other part, with a view of defending themselves from
the cold winds which generally blow from that quarter
during the winter; and for this reason the northern In-
dians generally break open that side of the Beaver-houses
which exactly front the south.

‘¢Tn respect to the Beaver dunging in their houses, as
some persons assert, it is quite wrong, as they always
plunge into the water to do it. Jam the better enabled
to make this assertion, from having kept several of them
till they became so domesticated as to answer to their name,
and follow those to whom they were accustomed, in the
same manner as a dog would do, and they were as much
pleased at being fondled, as any animal I ever saw. I had
a house built for them, and a small piece of water before
the door, into which they always plunged when they
wanted to ease nature; and their dung being of a light
substance, immediately rises and floats on the surface,
then separates and subsides to the bottom. When the
winter sets in so as to freeze the water solid, they still
continue their custom of coming out of their house, and
dunging and making water on the ice; and when the
weather was so cold that I was obliged to take them into
my house, they always weht into a large tub of water
which I set for that purpose: so that they made not the
least dirt, though they were kept in my own sitting-room,
where they were the constant companions of the Indian
women and children, and were so fond of their company,
that when the Indians were absent for any considerable
time, the Beaver discovered great signs of uneasiness, and
on their return showed equal marks of pleasure, by fond-
ling on them, crawling into their laps, laying on their
backs, sitting erect like a squirrel, and behaving to them
like children, who see their parents but seldom. In

led, as far as he could, under the protection afforded by the United States
forces. ‘The above facts were related to the writer by one of the most emi-
nent men on this expedition, only last summer; and these remarks are
made to show how often the world is deluged by fabulous stories on mat-
ters which should be preserved in entire purity —[Eb.]

general, during the winter they lived on the same food as
the women did, and were remarkably fond of rice and
plum-pudding: they would eat partridges and fresh veni-
son very freely, but I never tried them with fish, though
I have heard they will at times prey on them. In fact,
there are few of. the granivorous animals that may not be
brought to be carniverous. It is well known that our do-
mestic poultry will eat animal food: thousands of geese
that come to London market are fattened on tallow-craps;
and our horses in Hudson’s Bay would not only eat all
kinds of animal food, but also drink freely of the wash, or
pot-liquor, intended for the hogs.

¢¢ With respect to the inferior, or slave-beaver, of which
some authors speak, it is, in my opinion, very difficult
for those who are best acquainted with the economy of
this animal to determine whether there are any that de-
serve that appellation or not. It sometimes happens, that
a Beaver is caught, which has but a very indifferent coat,
and which has broad patches on the back, and shoulders
almost wholly without hair. This is the only foundation
for asserting that there is an inferior, or slave-beaver,
among them. And when one of the above description is
taken, it is perhaps too hastily inferred that the hair is
worn off from those parts by carrying heavy loads: where-
as it is most probable that it is caused by a disorder that
attacks them somewhat similar to the mange; for were
that falling off of the hair occasioned by performing extra
labour, it is natural to think that instances of it would be
more frequent than there are; as it is rare to see one of
them in the course of seven or ten years. I have seen a
whole house of those animals that had nothing on the
surface of their bodies but the fine soft down; all the long
hairs having molted off. This and every other deviation
from the general run is undoubtedly owing to some par-
ticular disorder.—Hearne’s Journey to the Northern
Ocean, and through the country westof Prince of Wales
Fort, Hudson Bay, 2. D.1771.

‘¢ As all the accounts which I have hitherto read of
Beavers, are very erroneous, | shall here communicate my
observations on those animals. I suppose that none of
the writers who have mentioned them, ever saw a Beaver-
house, but related only the tales of illiterate furriers,
whose veracity is not to be depended upon. I tremble at
feeling myself under the necessity of contradicting that
celebrated natural historian, Compt de Buffon; yet I must
take the liberty to do it. Hesays, ‘A Beaver has a scaly
tail, because he eats fish;’? I wonder much that Monsieur
Buffon had not one himself for the same reason; for J am

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 31

AUTHENTIC HISTORY.—Cotinnued.

sure that he has eaten a great deal more fish, than all the
Beavers in the world put together. Beavers will neither
eat fish, nor any other animal food; but live upon the leaves
and bark of such trees and shrubs as have not a resinous
juice, and the root of the water-lilly. I have known them
eat black spruce; and they will sometimes cut down
silver-fur; but I believe that is only to build with when
other trees are scarce. When they eat, they hold their
food in their fore-paws, and sit up like monkeys. In the
summer time they ramble about very much, paying little
regard to their houses, and will make a bed of sticks shred
fine, under a bush near the water-side, and there sleep:
the first bed of this kind which I found, I took tc be the
nest of a goose. If the pond which they lived in the last
winter, has plenty of such food as they like, growing by
the side of it, and they have not been disturbed by man,
they will seldom quit it; but if there bea scarcity of food,
they will wander about in search of another, where they
can be more plentifully supplied: and it has been long ob-
served, that of all the trees which grow in Newfoundland
or Labrador, they like the aspen best, and next to that the
birch. Having found a place convenient for the purpose,
they commonly begin early in August to erect their
house. The sticks which they make use of on this occa-
sion, are of all sizes, from the thickness of a man’s ancle
to his little finger, but very seldom of larger dimensions.
They pile up these materials in the form of a dome, some-
times to the height of six or seven feet above the level of
the ground, but commonly not more than four. The base
is generally of an oval form; the height ten or twelve
feet, and eight or nine in width. As they raise this pile
above, they hollow it out below, taking care that their bed,
or lodging-place, shall be above the reach of floods, and
sufficiently roomy to contain the whole family. From the
fore part of the house, they build a projection into the
pond, sloping downwards all the way, and under this they
enter into their house. This entrance is called by the
furriers, the angle ; nor do they always content themselves
with one, but more commonly will have two, and some-
times three. They have but one apartment, which is
termed the lodging, and which is shaped in the inside
like an oven, the bottom of which is covered with the
shreds of sticks, resembling fine narrow shavings. Ata
little distance from the angle, is their magazine of provi-
sions, which consists of the roots of water-lilly, and the
branches of trees; the but-ends of the latter they stick into
the mud where there is any. The whole is termed writh,
and I have seen as much as a cart would hold; great part
appearing above water. They are very industrious crea-

tures, for even amidst a superabundance of provisions,
they will continue to add to the store; and though their
house be completely built, they will still carry on fresh
works, until the pond is frozen firm over; they will even
keep a hole open to work on the house for some nights
after; provided the frost is not very severe; and as they
will enter every old house and do a little work upon it,
young furriers are frequently deceived thereby, supposing
those houses to be inhabited. Although they will some-
times continue in the same pond for three or four years or
more, yet they will frequently build themselves a new
house every year; at other times they will repair an old
one, and live in that, and they often build a new
house upon or close adjoining to an old one, making
the two tops into one, and cut a communication be-
tween the lodgings: hence, I presume, arose the idea
of their having several apartments. When the pond
is not deep enough for them, they will throw a dam across
the -mouth of the brook by which it discharges its water,
to raise it to a sufficient height; making use of sticks, stones,
mud, and sand, for this purpose. Some of these I have
seen of great length and strength, insomuch that I have
walked over them with the greatest safety, though not
quite dry-shod, if they be new, as the water always sheds
over them, being on an exact level from end toend. But
if, notwithstanding the stint, they cannot raise the water
to a proper depth, near the bank, they build their house
inthe pond, at a few yards distance from the shore, be-
ginning at the bottom and hollowing it out as they go on,
for they must have about three feet depth over the end of
the angle, or the water would freeze in it, and they could
go neither in nor out. If there be an island in the pond, they
generally make their house on that, being the safest place,
and by far the greatest number of houses are on the north
shore, for the advantage of the sun.. They have no opening
from their house, on the land side, and for these reasons;
because the frosty air would enter at that hole, and freeze
up the water in the angle, whereby they would be cut off
from their magazine; the wolves likewise, and other ene-
mies, might enter thereat, and kill them; and the cold
would be greater than they could bear.

‘¢ Beavers generally bring forth two young ones ata
time, which are most commonly male and female; yet
they will often have but one, especially the first time of
breeding; and sometimes three or four. The first year,
they are called pappooses—the second, small medlers—
the third, Zarge medlers—the fourth, Beaver—and, after
that, old or great Beaver. They copulate in May, and
bring forth towards the end of June. The young ones

32

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AUTHENTIC HISTORY—Continued.

continue to live with their parents until they are full three
years old; then pair off, build a house for themselves, and
begin to breed. Yet sometimes, and not uncommonly, if
they are undisturbed and have plenty of provisions, they
will continue longer with the old ones, and breed in the
same house.

‘Whether they do ordo not make use of their tails as
trowels to plaster their houses with, I cannot say, though
I am inclined to believe they do not; because their tail is
so heavy, and the tendons of it so weak, though numerous,
that I do not think they can use it to that effect; and that
therefore they daub the earth on with their hands, for I
must call them so. When they dive, they give a smack
on the water with their tails as they go down; but that
appears to me to proceed from the tail falling over with
its own weight. They move very slowly on land, and
being also a very cowardly creature, are easily killed there
by any man or beast that chances to meet with them: yet,
being defended by long fur, and a thick skin, and armed
with long strong teeth, firmly set in very strong jaws, they
are capable of making a stout resistance. I have heard
of an old one, which cut the leg of a dog nearly off at one
stroke, and I make not the least doubt of the truth of the
information. Still I have been informed, that otters will
enter their houses and kill them; but I believe it must
only be the young ones, when the old ones are from home;
for I hardly think that an old Beaver would suffer itself to
be killed by an otter.

‘< These creatures begin to grow fat after the middle of
July, arein tolerable case by the end of August, and by
the end of September are at their best, provided they have
good living, and are not disturbed. Those which feed
upon brouze, particularly on birch, are the most delicious
eating of any animal in the known world; but the flesh of
those which feed upon the root of the water-lilly, although
it makes them much fatter than any other food, hasa strong
taste, and is very unpleasant. After Christmas they begin
to decline, and by May are commonly poor; in these par-
ticulars they resemble the porcupine, as they do in many
other respects.

<< Buffon and others say, that they make use of their tails
as sleds to draw stones and earth upon: I cannot contra-
dict their assertions, as I have never seen these ani-
mals work; but I do not believe it, because, their tails
being thickest at the root and down the centre part, it
would be almost impossible for them to keep a stone on it,
unless held there by another. Nor have I ever observed,
that they had taken any stones off the ground; but they
bring them from the sides and bottoms of the water, and

must make use of their hands for those purposes, as they
could easier shove and roll them along, than draw them on
their tails: besides, the skin of the under part of the tail
would be rubbed off by the friction on the ground; which
never yet has been observed to be the case with them, and
is astronger proof, that they never do make use of them
for that purpose. Those who compare this account with
the writings of Buffon and others, will find a great differ-
ence, but it must be remembered, that they wrote entirely
from hearsay, and I, from experience chiefly.—Cart-

wright’s Journal of Transactions on the Coast of La-

brador, A. D.1783.

‘<The Indians inhabiting the countries watered by the
tributaries of the Missouri and Mississippi, take the Beavers
principally by trapping, and are generally supplied with
steel-traps by the traders, who do not sell, but Jend or
hire them, in order to keep the Indians dependant upon
themselves, and also to lay claim to the furs which
they may procure. The name of the trader being stamped
on the trap, it is equal to a certificate of enlistment, and
indicates, when an Indian carries his furs to another trad-
ing establishment, that the individual wishes to avoid the
payment of his debts. The business of trapping requires
great experience and caution, as the senses of the Beaver
are very keen, and enable him to detect the recent pre-
sence of the hunter by the slightest traces. It is neces-
sary that the hands should be washed clean before the
trap is handled and baited, and that every precaution
should be employed to elude the vigilance of the animal.

‘<The bait which is used to entice the Beaver is pre-
pared from the substance called castor (castorewm,) ob-
tained from the glandulous pouches of the male animal,
which contain sometimes from two to three ounces. This
substance is called by the hunters dark-stone, and is
squeezed gently into an open-mouthed phial.

‘<The contents of five or six of these castor bags are
mixed with a nutmeg, twelve or fifteen cloves, and thirty
grains of cinnamon, in fine powder, and then the whole is
stirred up with as much whiskey as will give it the con-
sistency of mustard prepared for the table. This mixture
must be kept closely corked up, and in four or five days
the odour becomes more powerful; with care it may be
preserved for months without injury. Various other
strong aromatics are sometimes used to increase the pun-
gency of the odour. Some of this preparation, smeared
upon the bits of wood with which the traps are baited,
will entice the Beaver from a great distance.

‘¢ The different appearances of the fur, caused by age,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ao
>

AUTHENTIC HISTORY.—Continued.

season, disease, or accident, has at times led individuals to
state the existence of several species of Beaver in this
country. No other species, however, has yet been disco-
vered, but that whose habits we have been describing.
Beavers are occasionally found nearly of a pure white,

which is owing to the same cause that produces albino va-.

rieties of various animals.

«¢ The Beaver is about two feet in length, having a thick
and heavy body, especially at its hinder part. The head
is compressed and somewhat arched at the front, the up-
per part being rather narrow, and the snout at the extre-
mity, quite so; the neck is very short and thick. The eyes
are situated rather high up on the head, and have rounded
pupils; the ears are short, elliptical, and almost entirely
concealed by the fur. The whole skin is covered by two
sorts of hair; one which islong, rather stiff, elastic, and of
a gray colour for two-thirds of its length next the base, and
terminated by shining, reddish, brown points, giving the
general colour to the pelage; the other is short, very fine,
thick, tufted and soft, being of different shades of silver
gray or light lead colour. On the head and feet the hair
is shorter than elsewhere. The tail, which is ten or
eleven inches long, is covered with hair similar to that of
the back, for about one-third of its length nearest the base,
the rest of it iscovered by hexagonal scales, which are not
imbricated.”’—Godman.

The Beaver appears to inhabit, at present, the northern
and western regions of America, although there are evi-
dent traces that they were once dispersed over all the parts
which now constitute the United States; nearly every
state has its traditionary remains of the Beaver in certain
locations, as Beaver dams, Beaver falls, Beaver creeks,
Beaver rivers, Beaver lakes, &e. But now, the encroach-
ment of the human species has driven them to more remote
places, where they are still pursued by the persecuting
hand of avarice and rapacity, until the complete extermina-
tion of this valuable creature may be expected with cer-
tainty. ”

The parts in which these animals may be said more to
abound, are, the country about Hudson’s Bay, extending
from the coast of Labrador, through the interior, to the
Pacific Ocean; and on all of the streams tributary to the
Upper Missouri and Mississippi rivers, the north fork
of the river Platte particularly, and the standing waters
_ throughout that section of country. These are the

I

great fields for trapping and hunting, and are resorted to
by those tribes of Indians residing east of the Rocky
Mountains. Immense numbers are taken and disposed of
by them to the different trading establishments in various
parts of the north and west. Some idea may be formed
of the quantity taken, by the fact, that from the years
1793, to 1802, one million four hundred and fifty-one
thousand nine hundred and eighty-four Beaver skins
were shipped from the port of Quebec alone;* and in 1820
sixty thousand skins were sold by the Hudson’s Bay
Company. Now, if we were to add to these the number
taken by those tribes of Indians extending through that
vast expanse of country lying between Lake Michigan, and
the Rocky Mountains, and from the 38th to the 52d paral-
lel, embracing an extent of continent, eight hundred by
twelve hundred miles, we must suppose that in less than
a century, scarcely a representative of that interesting
race of animals will be left. Although the Beaver is a
very prolific animal, yet the manner of destroying them
evidently tends to their final extermination. No regard
is paid by some reckless hunters to the situation of the
old female Beavers, which are often killed within a few
days of their littering season, whereby not only the indi-
vidual, but her whole progeny are destroyed. Multitudes
of young are also killed, before they attain an age to make
them of any value. How then can a race of beings exist,
through any extent of time, when such an annihilating
war is constantly waged against them ?

Thus it will be seen, even when divested of intellec-
tual properties, the Beaver is an exceedingly interesting
animal, whether we view it during its life, or in its death.
The short period of its existence, which, at most, seldom
exceeds fifteen years, is a scene of industry, providence,
and perseverance. Its habits as regards their own com-
munities, is social and peaceful; it never déstroys life or
commits violence for its own sustenance; nor does it ag-
gress the rights of a neighbouring animal. Its death is
sought by the hunter for the value of its skin, which be-
comes subject to many changes and a succession of owners.
In the first place the skins of the Beaver form a basis for
the hunter’slivelihood; then passing to the traders, become
a source of profit which causes them to forego civilization
and its attending benefits; from these in numbers they find
their way to the cities of America and Europe, and form
an article of merchandise so vast in amount as to engage
the attention of large capitalists; and then again, passing

* Jenning’s Cyclopedia,

34 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

from these, they are scattered over various parts of the
world, until the factors make the final change, by convert-
ing them into fashionable and necessary ornaments of
dress.

In appearance the Beaver much resembles the rat, par-
ticularly the musk-rat, having the same actions on land
and in the water, and at a short distance would be taken
for the latter; but on a closer view, the difference is at
once seen, by the proportionably larger head, and the
broad, flattened, and scaly tail of the Beaver.

NOTES OF A NATURALIST.
BY JACOB GREEN, M. D. |

PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY, IN JEFFERSON COLLEGE.

The Early Settlement of our Village.

In many of the newly settled districts of the United
States, their physical and literary character is undergoing
continual, rapid, and important changes. A short inter-
yal of time will there often sweep away the external ves-
tiges of things; the fields, the forests, the village, and
the population, are sometimes all quickly succeeded by a
new order of affairs, and with them the memory of the past
is frequently lost forever. A few years will sometimes
effect more in this country, in these respects, than whole
centuries often produce, in the old world.

There are many interesting facts connected with the
early settlement of our village, now fresh in the recollec-
tions of some of the older inhabitants, and which would
be highly interesting to those who may come after us, to
collect and preserve. The rude log cabin is still in ex-
istence in our neighbourhood, from which the light of
science first emanated, west of the Alleghanies, a spot
where the early settler first received the benefits of know-
ledge, and where he was taught the elements and the bless-
ings of religion. ‘That spot will ever be held in honoured
remembrance by the genuine lover of science and piety; and
many a future antiquary will no doubt visit it, with more
enthusiasm, than the lofty domes and splendid halls of
science in the Eastern World. My present object is
merely to notice two or three anecdotes relating to the
first habitable edifice erected in this vicinity, and which
was the commencement of our flourishing town. The
facts I shall state were received from the venerable
and virtuous companion of the first settler himself, a

. few hours only before her lips were sealed in eternal

silence.

The first partial clearing of land made in the heart of
the vast forest, which then covered all our surrounding
hills and vallies, was the identical spot where our Lyceum
of Natural Science now holds its sessions. But little more
than fifty years since, the wigwam of the Indian may have
occupied the spot where now stands this hall of science.
I was informed, if it were practicable to point out the ex-
act metesand bounds of the first enclosure of ground made
in this town, it would exactly include the foundation on -
which our new and noble college edifice is now erected.
The house first built here was formed in the usual manner,
of logs—but the roof, instead of being made with boards
in the way commonly practised by our first settlers, was
constructed with shingles. In that early day the uses of
iron were but rarely applied to buildings west of the moun-
tains, except by the more opulent settlers, as the want of
beaten roads, and the great weight of the materials, rendered
it very expensive to transport them from the distant At-
lantic states. AI] the nails and iron work of this our first
dwelling-house, were, however, brought in packs by horses
over the mountains. The roof, I was told, was the only
one constructed with nails and shingles in all this neigh-
bourhood for a cunsiderable time.

When our first college hall was erected, the old house
which was the commencement of the town, was removed
from its first site about fifty yards, to the place where it
now stands. It has undergone but little change since it
was first erected, and long may it be preserved as a monu-
ment of the enterprise and industry of the founder of our
village.

The second dwelling was, except the roof, of the same
rude architecture, as the one we have just described. It
stood some distance down the hill, just at the north-east
corner of the main street and the turnpike road. It was
built for the person who managed the mill, which is on the
creek at the foot of the town. The old mill has been long
removed; but the one now in operation is exactly on the
same site the original oneoccupied. All the hill side be-
tween the first and second dwelling house was, till within
a few years, covered with a multitude of flowering native
shrubs and trees. ‘The briar and hazle here spread their
branches in wild luxuriance—and many persons now
alive among us can recollect when the tall trees of the
forest, with vines clustering round their branches, shaded
the path from one house to the other.

The romantic hills and vallies of our neighbourhood ap-
pear to have been in former times the scene of frequent
savage contention; for numberless arrow-heads and other
implements of Indian warfare are now found in several

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 35

places. In some spots the council-fire seems to have been
suddenly extinguished, and the yell and the war-whoop
to have immediately succeeded. Near the summit of one
of our hills there is a number of Indian graves, in which
the bodies seem to have been interred singly, and in the
modern style of sepulture.

These few anecdotes will be sufficient to demonstrate
the wonderful changes which often occur in some parts of
our country, even when uninfluenced by peculiar local
advantages, or by the all-pervading stimulus of commer-
cial speculation. The same individual might have here
seen the same spot of earth, at one time a wild forest,
the haunt of the Indian and the resort of beasts of prey,
and at another the site of a flourishing town, and a distin-
guished abode of science and the liberal arts. Along the
same path where he once pursued the deer, the bear, and
the panther, he might now on either side behold the com-
modiousdwellings ofa refined society, and spacious temples
devoted toa pure religion. He might have seen the wily
Indian paddling his rude canoe gently over the surface of
our creek, to surprise his game in the tangled brake, where
now he hears the ceaseless splashing of the mill wheel, or
beholds the highly cultivated field rich with the golden
harvest. Ina word, ‘he might here have seen all the in-
termediate stages through which a people pass, from the
most simple to the highest degrees of civilization.”?, How
important, then, isit if we wish to preserve accurate anec-
dotes of our early history, to seize upon all existing facts,
and all present authentic reminiscences, before every ves-
tige of the past is hurried to hopeless oblivion.

On some of the Reptiles of our neighbourhood.

No department of the animal kingdom has furnished so
much amusement to my leisure hours, as the class called
Reptilia; and in the vast assemblage of animals grouped
by naturalists under this name, those familiarly known by
the name of the Tortoise, have been peculiarly interesting.
Count De Cepede happily remarks, ‘‘that the tortoise
has every where been the type of laziness; that it has fur-
nished the philosophers with speculations, the poet with
images, and the vulgar with proverbs.’’ The lover of na-
ture will frequently meet with much obloquy from the ig-
norant, and will sometimes be thrown into a little diffi-
culty in consequence of his favourite pursuit. On one
occasion, while searching for these animals in the neigh-
bourhood of a remote, unfrequented town, my motions
through the woods, and along the streams, were narrowly
and secretly watched, and on returning to the village,
while sitting at the tea-table, with one of the officers of the
peace and his family, the judge was called from the par-

lour to make out a warrant for my apprehension, the in-
former testifying that I was a suspicious person,—that he
had seen, in my room at the inn, a number of vials of
‘*poticary stuff,”? and that I had been lurking in the fields
and woods after no good. The judge could scarcely pa-
cify him by acknowledging me as his friend, and by stat-
ing thal my visit was to analyze their mineral waters, and
to search for natural objects.

The American tortoises, both land and aquatic, are quite
numerous, and have as yet been but very imperfectly de-
scribed. The species which inhabit the streams in the
immediate vicinity of our town, are probably seven in
number. The Testudo Pennsylvania, and T. odorata,
(Kinosternon,) I have not seen, though I am informed that
they inhabit our ditches and muddy streams. The Tes-
tudo Punctata, or Guttata, (Emys.) is not very common,
and rarely reaches the length of three inches. The Tes-
tudo Picta, is also small, and not often seen. Major Le
Conte observes of this animal, ‘that it is always found
in ponds, and never in streams of running water. Here
they may be seen in great numbers, basking in the sun,
on rocks or logs, and plunging instantaneously into the
water on the approach of any one.’? The above remark
of this accurate and experienced observer of nature, is no
doubt true in general, but I have seen and captured the
Punctata and the Picta, on the same spot, in one of our
clear running streams of water. These two species are
perhaps the most beautiful of our tortoises; their colours
and markings are striking and peculiar; in young speci-
mens, these are the most brilliant and well defined. The
Testuda Serpentina, (Chelydra,) inhabits our creek, and
reaches a very considerable size. It is the most irritable,
furious, and voracious of reptiles; it snaps at every thing,
and will not ‘let go its hold even when the head is sepa-
rated from the body.”’ It is often very destructive to our
young ducks, seizing them, as Mr. Say remarks, by the
feet, and dragging them under water for the purpose of
devouring them; in its turn, however, it is eaten by our
villagers, with great gowt, forming, as every one knows, a
most delicious and nutritive soup. The Testudo Geogra-
phica, (Emys.) I have not, as yet, been able to detect in
our creek; but ] captured a small one in the Ohio, not far
from its junction with thatriver.* The tail was destitute

* T take this opportunity to describe a fine shell found last summer near
the banks of the Ohio, some distance lower down, by Mr. W.'T. R. Smith,
a young limner of great promise, and which he kindly presented to me.

Helix Pomum-adami.—Shell, reddish-brown, with a metalliferous hue,
lighter round the base; spire, convex; whorls, eight or nine, with regular
elevated transverse lines, forming deep grooves between them ; sutures, deep,
aperture rather narrow; lip, not reflected; within the aperture on the outer
lip, there are two parallel white teeth, the upper one is broad, flattened, dnd

36

of the yellow rings, noticed by Mr. Le Sueur, in the spe-
cimen he first discovered on the borders of Lake Erie. The
Testudo Ferox, (Zrzonyzx,) is quite abundant, and arrives
at a very considerable size. The boys of the village fre-
quently take it with the hook and line; being excellent
food, it 1s not uncommon to find it in our little market,
which cannot boast of many delicacies. It is said that this
animal ‘ is not found in any of the streams which empty
immediately into the Atlantic ocean, to the northward of
Savannah.” This is very remarkable, for they. are cer-
tainly very abundant in most of the tributaries of the Mis-
sissippi, in the Ghio, and in all the streams which flow into
this mighty river. Why this animal should have been called
the fierce tortoise, by way of distinction, no one can tell,
for they seem less disposed to bite than any of the other
species.

Testudo Clausa, or Carolina, (Cistuda.) I have been
quite surprised and disappointed to find, that the and tor-
totse, so common throughout the United States, should in
our village be a total stranger. J have never seen it in
our woods myself, and upon showing one, which I brought
with me from the east of the Alleghanies, to a number of
the inhabitants, they declared that it was not to be found
in the neighbourhood. I have but little doubt, however,
that it may occasionally be seen. I have examined mul-
titudes in other places, and willhere give the result of my
observations. It would be very difficult to describe all the
varieties of colour, and markings, found in the different indi-
viduals of this Protean species. The predominant colours
are, however, yellow and brown. In most instances the
number of segments, or pieces which compose the upper
shell, are thirteen central, and twenty-five marginal ones;
but, in one instance, I found only eleven scutellz on the
centre; this remarkable variety is now in the cabinet
of the College at Princeton. ‘‘ The shell is so hard, and
the animal so strong, that it can easily walk with a weight
of sixty pounds on his back.’? When surprised, or alarm-
ed, he withdraws his head and limbs, and closes the upper
and under shells with great muscular force; he thus shuts
himself in his castle, where he will often remain for hours
in perfect quietude. Many individuals, either through age
or corpulence, are unable to withdraw all the parts of
the body, and accurately to close the upper and under
shell together, and thus avail themselves of this natural
defence. Some persons keep these animals in cellars to
destroy troublesome insects; but I have found that after

rather bifid, the other is thin and sharp. Base of the shell near the coller
mella very much depressed ; umbilicus very small. Breadth, more than one-
fourth of an inch.

It resembles slightly the H. gularis of Mr. Say, but cannot, I think, be
confounded with that small species.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

two or three years confinement, in such situations, they
commonly die. I sent a box of our land tortoises, well
packed in straw, across the Atlantic, to my friend, J. E.
Gray, Esq. of the British Museum, ‘where they all ar-
rived, after a voyage of about forty days, in health and
safety, and are now living, I understand, in the Zoological
Gardens at London.

The land tortoise, though apparently so unworthy of at-
tention, has been for ages the chosen favourite of the cu-
rious. Derham, and other writers of eminence, have no-
ticed the memorable tortoise introduced into the Arch-
episcopal gardens at Lambeth, in the time of Archbishop
Laud, where it lived one hundred and twenty years, and at
last died, not apparently from the effects of age, but owing
to accidental neglect on the part of the gardener. The
Rey. Mr. White, in his Natural History of Selbourne, has
given a very amusing account of a domestic land tortoise,
to which J shall occasionally refer in my account of the
manners and private history.of our own animal, which
follows. The Huropean tortoise, of Archbishop Laud, and
of the Rey. Mr. White, is the T. Grzeca, and differs much
in its habitsfrom ours. I received a fine large specimen of
the Greca, from the Prince of Musignano, now residing
near Rome; and have thus had an opportunity of com-
paring the two animals.

About the first of May I confined, in a small enclo-
sure near to my office window, an old tortoise, ( 7. Clausa,)
which had been loitering about the garden for two or three
years.* Within the enclosure there was a small box, or
house, to shelter him from the sun and rain, and a little

* The length of my tortoise, from the end of the nose to the extremity of
the tail, is exactly eight inches. The breadth of his shell, three inches, and
his weight one pound. His upper shell is of an oval form, composed of
thirteen scutelle, or middle pieces, and twenty-four marginal ones, with a
small elevated oval scale in front; an elevated ridge running through the
middle. ‘The under shell is composed of twelve distinct pieces, and is di-
vided nearly in the middle into two parts, joined together by a tough skin.
These two pieces are moveable, and when the animal is surprised, these are
drawn close to the upper shell. The under shellis of a very pale yellow,
with dark lines, where the twelve different pieces meet each other, and the
upper one has a ground of pale yellow, with dusky brown marks. ‘The up-
per part of the head, which is covered with a hard scaly substance, is of the
same colour with the back. The legs, which are surrounded with ovate
scales, are of the colour of the under shell, though of a brighter hue. He
has five stout curved claws on his fore feet, and but four, having less curva-
tures, on his other feet. His tail is about one-third the length of his legs,
and isnot covered with scales. His skin, on the sides and throat, is yellow-
ish, sprinkled with minute bright vermillion spots; that part which sur-
rounds the neck when extended, envelopes the head when withdrawn. His
nostrils are placed above the beak; and his eyes, which seem to be scarcely
moveable in their sockets, are remarkably intelligent. The iris is of a red-
dish hazel, and the pupil, which he cannot dilate or contract, is of a shining
brown. :

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

cave excavated in the ground for his retreat from the cold.
In this last place I expected he would have passed most of
his time, but in this I found myself mistaken. From the
circumstance of finding my tortoise so early in the spring,
I conclude that he generally comes forth from his winter
retreat, or revives from his torpid state, about the latter end
of April. His time of appearance must, however, be in
some measure regulated by the temperature in different
years. I was agreeably disappointed to find that his ap-
petite, at this season, was very good, for I had supposed
that, so shortly after his long sleep, he would have disco-
vered but little inclination for food, and that he would re-
serve himself for the height of summer, when I expected
to find him voracious. I kept a pretty accurate account of
his diet, and I found but little variation in his appetite
during the whole season, till the beginning of October,
when the most delicate morsel would scarcely tempt him
to eat. Some writers say, that the tortoise will live a
year and a half without any kind of nourishment; whatever
may be the fact in the case, I cannot say, but I found that
a short abstinence considerably increased the disposition
of my favourite for food. Major Le Conte remarks, that
the land tortoise feeds “on fruit, insects, and edible fungi,
particularly the different species of clavaria.’? The land
tortoise of Kurope, it is said, lives almost wholly on vege-
tables, and that it seldom makes its prey of snails and worms
unless other food is not found in grateful plenty. I am
disposed to think that our animal is almost wholly carni-
vorous. I never knew but one instance of its ever tasting
any kind of vegetable, except a mushroom, which, it is well
known, approaches nearer to animal substance than any
other plant. Neither am I quite sure that the instance
alluded to forms an exception, for the tortoise was only
seen near a mushroom, which, upon examination, seemed
to have been bitten by it. The peculiar structure of the
jaws favours, I think, the idea that it is carnivorous; these
are armed with bony plates and not with teeth, which
seem, in most cases, essential to animals that support life
with vegetable nourishment. On one occasion, after an ab-
stinence of a week, I threw into my tortoise many kinds
of vegetables, such as purslain, lettuce, clover, and dande-
lion, but he did not fancy them in the least, and would
not eat a mouthful; but animal food of any kind, either raw
or cooked, he swallowed with avidity; the common earth-
worm appeared to be his favourite dish.*

* The account which I have given of the diet of my land tortoise, and his
predilection for animal food, is strictly correct ; but my friend Mr. Titian R.
Peale informs me, that in two or three individuals of the testudo clausa
which he had domesticated, one seemed to prefer fruits and esculent plants,
and another, animal food, a difference of taste probably arising from the
greater or less abundance of the kind of food in their natural haunts, This

K

37

The Rev. Mr. White, in the history of his tortoise, re-
marks, “that no part of its behaviour ever struck him more
than the extreme timidity it always expressed with regard
to rain; for though it has a shell that would secure it
against the wheel of a loaded cart, yet does it discover as
much solicitude about rain, as a lady dressed in all her
best attire, shuffling away on the first sprinkling, and run-
ning its head up inacorner. If attended to, it becomes
an excellent weather-glass, for as soon as it walks elate,
and, as it were, on tip-toe, feeding with great eagerness
in the morning, so sure will it rain before night.” Now
my mute favourite was the reverse of all this,

He hears the fearful tempest sing,

Yet seeks no shelter to avoid the storm;
whenever a shower fell, he was sure to bein the midst of
it, though immediately before I have observed him asleep
under his roof. On such occasions he was remarkably
active, elevating his head and showing every symptom of
pleasure and expectation. I supposed, that, at these wet
seasons, he was in search of earth-worms, of which, I have
before noticed, he was exceedingly fond, and which gene-
rally come from their hiding places during showers. From
his love for this kind of food, I also expected to find him not
altogether a diurnal animal, but that he would wander
about late in the evening, or early in the morning, in
search of it, but I never found him away from home after
dark, or fairly awake before sun-rise.

Spirit and activity were, certainly, not among the quali-
fications of my interesting captive. Often have I seenhim,
for hours together, stand motionless as a statue, riveted,
apparently, to the spot—his eyes fixed on vacancy, and so
absorbed in his contemplations, that no sound would dis-
turb his tranquillity. He seemed to sleep, and certainly
remained inactive many hours during every day; this he
did at one time in a horizontal position, with his hinder feet

appetite for different kinds of food is very remarkable in the ophidian
race. In the Philadelphia Museum I saw, some years since, two rattle-
snakes, (Crotali,) in different cages—one of the snakes would devour nothing
but mice or other small quadrupeds, and never eat a bird dead or alive;
while the other fed on nothing but birds. In the cage with the first rattle-
snake, there was a canary bird kept, and it was surprising to see how fear-
lessly and familiarly the little songster would perch on the back and head
of the reptile, pick at his eyes, and scrape his bill against his scales. ‘The
bird and the snake were kept together a long time. Mr. Peale informs me,
that he once possessed a fine large black-snake, (coluber constrictor,) which
refused all the ordinary food of which that species of reptile is commonly so
fond; birds, mice, and almost every other kind of food, was tried in vain—
nothing could provoke him to eat; it seemed as if he would rather starve to
death, than relieve his hunger by any thing that was offered. At last a land
lizard, the agama undulata, was placed in his cage; this he seized and de-
voured with great avidity. He was kept alive with the same kind of food
for along time. The snake was captured in the woods of New-Jersey, where
the agama is very abundant.

38 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

thrown out of his shell on the ground, where they seemed
to lie paralized; or at another time, with his shell inclined
against the walls of his chamber. Though I do not wish
to abate any thing from the natural talents of my favourite,
I cannot assign this inclination of his shell, in hours of
repose, to the same cause as that ascribed by the Rey. Mr.
White to his domesticated tortoise; he observes on this
subject ‘¢ that though he has never read that planes inclin-
ed to the horizon received a greater share of warmth from
an autumnal sun, he inclines his shell, by tilting it against
the walls, to collect and admit every feeble ray.”” I found
that my animal chose this position oftener in the shade
than in the sunshine, and I concluded that this was done
to relieve the pressure from the under shell, his whole
weight being then supported by the wall, and the ground,
which acted like the abutments of an arch, of which his
upper shell was the curvature.

He often betrayed a very considerable share of sagacity.
After making many fruitless efforts to scale the walls of his
prison, I detected him more than once endeavouring to
make his escape by undermining the foundation. Mr.
White observes, that his animal quickly recognized those
persons who bestowed upon it kind attentions, and that
as soon as the good old lady came in sight, who had wait-
ed on it for more than thirty years, it hobbled towards
her with awkward velocity; some such expression of gra-
titude and recognition I more than once noticed in my
little friend. Mr. T. R. Peale, who has kept a number
of the 7. clausa in his garden, informs me, that when-
ever the plate on which their food was brought to them
was scraped with a knife, they would all scamper to the
usual spot, like so many chickens. One good quality
in my old tortoise I must not forget to notice; he would
not, on any occasion, be ruffled in his temper, but always
preserved an unvarying equanimity; still, however, he
maintained a superiority over one I procured for his
companion in captivity. I once, however, saw him de-
liberately take a piece of meat out of the mouth of the
other, who submitted to his loss with tacit acquiescence.
It has been said, that the males of this species have fre-
quent contests, butting against each other with such force,
as to be heard at a considerable distance; but as my animals
were not of a quarrelsome temper, I never witnessed any
such exhibitions.

In the early part of October, he seemed to prepare him-
self for his long winter’s sleep—he would eat nothing,
and I often noticed him descending into the little sub-
terraneous excavation I had prepared for him for this pur-
pose. I now weighed him with great accuracy. The
length of his shell was nearly six inches, and the breadth
just half the length ; these proportions, I suppose, gene-

rally prevail, as I found them the same in several instances.
His weight was just one pound. From the observations
of Dr. George Ent, made, during a series of years, on the
weight of a land tortoise, at the time of his retiring un-
der ground in the autumn, compared with its weight on its
re-appearance in the spring—the animal was found to
lose not more than about a drachm in the pound; my ob-
servations have confirmed this statement. Very shortly
after losing his appetite, my amusing friend finally bu-
ried himself in his cavern, and in that situation remained
undisturbed, passing the cold winter months in one of the
most profound of all slumbers, till a genial vernal sun
‘‘awoke his torpid life.”

I cannot close the history of my domestic tortoise with-
out recording his melancholy fate. The early part of the last
winter of his life was remarkably wet, so that the cavern
in which he reposed during the cold weather, became, as
I afterwards discovered, completely filled with water.
During some fine sunny weather in the latter part of the
succeeding April, I anxiously expected his re-appearance
from his protracted slumber, as usual—but I waited for
him in vain. One day of disappointment was succeeded
by another, and I became at last so anxious and impatient
that I dug into his cave, and, to my surprise, found it filled
with a solid block of ice, in the centre of which my poor
testudo clausa lay perfectly frozen up, like an insect in
amassof amber. I carefully broke away, with a hatchet,
the ice in which he was encrusted. This operation was.
somewhat difficult, as his feet and legs were not with-
drawn beneath his shell. [ then placed him in a cold
water bath, and in a few minutes I had the pleasure to ob-
serve that he manifested symptoms of returning life. Ina
few minutes more he exhibited vigorous activity, and
walked abroad in the sunshine, with all the bouyaney of
former days. The weather suddenly changing to intense
cold, in the course of the afternoon, I brought my rescued
pet into the house, and kept him for some weeks in my
study; but I could not tempt him to taste the most deli-
cate morsel, and after yawning and dragging through the
room at intervals, he at last died about the first of June.

That the life of the tortoise considerably exceeds the
period of a century, many well-attested examples might
be produced, and, as observations of this kind have been
made on the animal, when in a state of captivity, we may
reasonably conclude, that, if at liberty, he would reach a
still greater age. Major Le Conte justly remarks, that the
testudo clausa ‘has been cited as an example of longevity
among animals of the lower classes; but the finding of an
individual with a name and date engraved on its sternum,
proves nothing—the idle and the foolish are fond of in-
scribing their names every where, and may as well ante-

:
:

mie a
ae! %,

ADA IT oA

AND AMERICAN

date the time by half a century, as state the true year of
their attempts at immortality.”’ In conclusion, we cannot
help remarking, that Providence, as it were, to show us the
small value of animal existence, abstractly considered, has
bestowed great longevity on a reptile that squanders
away more than two-thirds of its life in the most pro-

found torpor, and in joyless stupidity.

Hints respecting the Domestic Cat.—As it is not my
intention to write the natural history of the domestic cat, I
shall not assert with many authors, that the wild cat, which
is confined to the woods of Europe and Asia, is the parent
stock of the whole race; nor will I attempt to decide on
that particular species which was brought by the Indians
to Columbus, when he discovered America. Thus much,
however, I may say, that wild cats are found in almost
every country and climate. My present design confines
me to the common house cat, called by the familiar name
of tortoise-shell,* tabby, or puss. Though Soninit has
given puss traits of character which place him ina most
amiable and interesting point of view, I feel compelled,
though I do it with great reluctance, to pronounce him un-
grateful, ungenerous, and deceitful; though with all these
abominable qualities, an important domestic. But this is
all foreign to the subject: My present intention is to in-
quire into the cause of some signs which the cat exhibits,
at particular stages of the weather.

Linnzus gives, as one of the specific characteristics of
the domestic cat, that he washes his face and behind his
ears with his fore feet at the approach of astorm.{ How-
ever strange or fanciful this may appear, there is, I think,
no doubt of the fact. I have observed it often, and have
found it an unerring prognostic of falling weather ; in
winter, of snow, and in summer, of rain. I shall now offer
what I think a sufficient explanation of this remarkable
fact. We know that some animals have a greater capacity
for electricity, and exhibit much stronger signs of it, than
others. The gymnotus electricus, or electrical eel, will
give a shock to any number of persons, in the same man-
ner as the leyden jar. The electrical properties of the
torpedo, or cramp-fish, are so remarkable, that for a long
time they were considered fabulous. Some other fish
might be mentioned, as possessing this property. The ex-
periment of producing sparks of electrical fire, by rubbing
the back of a cat, is familiar to almost every one;§ the glit-

© It has been asserted that the tortoise-shell cat is indigenous to Spain and
that it constitutes a distinct variety of the common species; this opinion, I
have good reason to believe, has no sufficient ground for its support.

+ See Sonini’s Travels in Egypt.

+ See Turton’s, Linneus, vol. i. p. 49.

§ It is said that black cats give out more electric fire than those of any
other colour. If this be a fact, may it not lead to some important results in

RURAL SPORTS. 39

tering of the eyes by night, may, I think, be also stated
as another proof of the presence of the fluid. The ears of
the cat, and some portions of the face, are without hair;
such places are good conductors of electricity; but the
whole body of the animal being enveloped in a hairy co-
vering, is anon-conductor. If, therefore, the fluid escapes,
or passes off in any considerable quantity, it must be at
the ears or face. This can be proved by experiment:
Upon rubbing the back of the animal in favourable wea-
ther, and presenting your knuckle to the ear, a spark will
be received;—a spark, however, cannot be obtained from
any part of the body, a few scintillations only following
the hand in the act of rubbing. Cats, we know, have a
natural antipathy to water and moist air, and delight in dry
and warm situations. It is hardly necessary to state, that
a damp atmosphere is one of the best conductors of elec-
tricity, or that a dry one is necessary for its collection and
retention. From what has now been advanced, the con-
clusion is obvious. The vapour or humidity of the air,
serving as a conductor, draws off or absorbs the electric
matter from the animal, and the fluid passing off with more
readiness, and in the greatest quantity, at the ears, must
occasion sensationsin that particular part, either agreeable
or troublesome, which induces the motion of the fore foot as
above stated. That some animals are more readily affect-
ed by changes in the atmosphere than others, and that they
exhibit signs of these variations, cannot be doubted. The
difficulty is, to explain with clearness and precision how
this takes place. Mr. J. Taylor, in an interesting little
volume, called the Complete weather guide, has given a
chapter on the common and familiar signs exhibited by
animals which indicate approaching changes of weather;
in this chapter, he passes without notice, our friend, the car.

RED FLAMINGO.
PHG@NICOPTERUS RUBER.
[Plate IV. Vol. 3.]

Le Flammant, Briss. vi, p. 533, pl. 47, fig.1.—Burr.
vin, p. 475, pl. 39. Pl. Enl. 63.—Latu. Syn. 111, p.
299.—Arct. Zool. No. 422.—Phenicopterus Baham-
ensis, CaTEsBY, 1, pl. 73, 74.—Philadelphia Museum.

Tus singular but beautiful plumed bird, strictly belongs
to the North American Ornithology, although it is found

the construction of electric machines. It has been found that the power of
a white glass cylinder, is considerably increased by coating the inner surface
with a coloured electric, such as rosin, or bees-wax.

40 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

only in the most southern districts of the country. Onthe
coast of Florida, and in the Gulf of Mexico, it is frequently
seen, but not in numbers equal to those that congregate on
the West India islands, and particularly the shores and
lagoons, bordering the Caribean Sea.

The specimen from which the annexed drawing was
made, belongs to the Philadelphia Museum, and is one of
the most perfect of its kind. This was shot by Mr. T. R.
Peale, on the sea-shore of Colombia, during his late visit
to that country, but owing to the great shyness of these
birds, he was unable to procure more than the one specimen,
although, he said, several hundreds associated together; but
the parts they resort to were so difficult of access, and the
timidity of the birds so great, rendered it impossible, with-
out too great exertion, to be more successful. This bird was
shot at night time by the aid of lightning, and secured only
on the following day.

American Naturalists have not been able to furnish any-
thing new relative to this remarkable bird, and among
foreign authors, Dr. Latham, in his Synopsis, has given
the most authentic and interesting particulars, which are
here introduced.

¢¢ This remarkable bird has the neck and legs in a greater
disproportion than any other bird; the length from the end
of the bill to that of the tail is four feet two or three inches,
but to the end of the claws, measures sometimes more than
six feet. The bill is four inches and a quarter long, and of
a construction different from that of any other bird; the
upper mandible very thin and flat, and somewhat move-
able; the under thick, both of them bending downwards
from the middle; the nostrils are linear, and placed in a
blackish membrane; the end of the bill as far as the bend
is black, from thence to the base reddish yellow, round
the base quite to the eye covered with a flesh coloured
cere; the neck is slender, and of a great length; the tongue
large, fleshy, filling the cavity of the bill, furnished with
twelve or more hooked papillz on each side, turning back-
wards; the tip a sharp cartilaginous substance. The bird
when in full plumage is wholly of a most deep scarlet,
(those of Africa said to be the deepest) except the quills,
which are black; from the base of the thigh to the claws
measures thirty-two inches, of which the feathered part
takes up no more than three inches; the bare part above
the knee thirteen inches, and from thence to the claws
sixteen; the colour of the bare parts is red, and the toes
are furnished with a web as in the duck genus; but it is
deeply indented. The legs are not straight, but slightly
bent, the shin rather projecting.

« These birds do not gain their full plumage till the
third year. In the first they are of a grayish white for the
most part; the second of a clearer white, tinged with red,

or rather rose colour; but the wings and scapulars are red;
in the third year a general glowing scarlet manifests itself
throughout; the bill and legs also keep pace with the gra-
dation of colour in the plumage, these parts changing to
their colours by degrees as the bird approaches to an adult
state.

«¢ Flamingoes prefer a warm climate, in the old conti-
nent not often met with beyond forty degrees north or
south. Every where seen on the African coast, and adja-
cent isles, quite to the Cape of Good Hope, and now and
then on the coasts of Spain, Italy, and those of France
lying in the Mediterranean sea; being at times met with
at Marseilles, and for some way up the Rhone. In some
seasons frequents Aleppo, and parts adjacent. Seen also
on the Persian side of the Caspian sea, and from thence
along the western coast as far as the Wolga; though this at
uncertain times, and chiefly in considerable flocks, coming
from the north coast mostly in October and November; but
so soon as the wind changes they totally disappear. They
breed in the Cape Verd isles, particularly in that of Sal.
The nest is of a singular construction, made of mud, in shape
of a hillock, with a cavity at top; in this the female lays ge-
nerally two white eggs, * of the size of those of a goose, but
more elongated. The hillock is of such an height as to
admit of the bird’s sitting on it conveniently, or rather
standing, as the legs are placed one on each side at full
length.t The young cannot fly till full grown, but run very
fast.

‘¢ Flamingoes, for the most part, keep together in flocks;
and now and then are seen in great numbers together, ex-
cept in breeding time. Dampier mentions haying, with
two more in company, killed fourteen at once; but this
was effected by secreting themselves; for they are very
shy birds, and will by no means suffer any one to approach
openly near enough to shoot them.{ Kolben observes
that they are very numerous at the Cape, keeping in the
day on the borders of the lakes and rivers, and lodging
themselves of nights in the long grass on the hills. They
are also common to various places in the warmer parts of
America, frequenting the same latitudes as in other quar-
ters of the world; being met with in Peru, Chili, Cayenne,§
and the coast of Brazil, as well as the various islands of
the West Indies. Sloane found them in Jamaica; but par-
ticularly at the Bahama islands, and that of Cuba, where

* They never lay more than three, and seldom fewer. Phil. Trans.

+ Sometimes will lay the eggs on a projecting part of a low rock, if it be
placed sufficiently convenient so as to admit of the legs being placed one on
each side. Linn.

+ Davies talks of the gunner disguising himself in an ox hide, and by this
means getting within gun-shot. Hist. Barbad, p. 88.

§ Called there by the name of Tococo.

es

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 41

they breed. When seen at a distance they appear asa re-
giment of soldiers, being arranged alongside of one another,
on the borders of the rivers, searching for food, which
chiefly consists of small fish, or the eggs of them, and of
water insects, which they search after by plunging in the
bill and part of the head; from time to time trampling with
their feet to muddy the water, that their prey may be
raised from the bottom. In feeding are said to twist the
neck in such a manner that the upper part of the bill is
applied to the ground; during this, one of them is said to
stand sentinel, and the moment he sounds the alarm, the
whole flock take wing. ‘This bird when at rest stands on
one leg, the other being drawn up close to the body, with
the head placed under the wing on that side of the body
it stands on.

‘¢ The flesh of these birds is esteemed pretty good meat;
and the young thought by some equal to that of a partridge;
but the greatest dainty is the tongue, which was esteemed
by the ancients an exquisite morsel. Are sometimes caught
young and brought up tame; but are ever impatient of cold,
and in this state will seldom live a great while, gradually
losing their colour, flesh, and appetite; and dying for want
of that food which in a state of nature, at large, they were
abundantly supplied with.’’

For the Cabinet of Natural History.

A NOTICE OF THE DUCKS, AND SHOOTING OF
THE CHESAPEAKE BAY.

Mr. Editor:—As it is of great importance to the cause
of science, that a correct natural history of our country
should be established and preserved, every erroneous
assertion that remains uncontradicted by those on this side
of the Atlantic, will inevitably be credited in Europe;
and let our minds, manners, or institutions, be misrepre-
sented as they may, we must maintain truth, if possible,
in the history of our natural productions.

A writer over the signature of S. H. in the Turf Regis-
ter, for August, 1833, in an interesting account of the
habits of the Ducks that are found in the Chesapeake Bay,
and of the different modes of destroying them, makes two
or three statements that require notice, as they may mis-
lead naturalists at a distance, and produce wrong impres-
sions at home.

He says, there are two varieties of Canvass-back Duck;
‘Cone has a shorter neck than the other, and its breast,
(unlike the other’s,) is of a dark red colour.” Having

L

been a visitor to those waters for many years on Duck-
shooting expeditions, [ have closely observed the variety
of water fowl that frequent them during the fall and win-
ter. I have on several occasions been accompanied by
naturalists of great industry and intelligence, and neither
them nor myself have ever been able to discover more
than the single species of Canvass-back, (Anas valisi-
neria.)

The writer must certainly have mistaken birds of dif-
ferent ages for different varieties, the yearling being ge-
nerally of a lighter colour in the marking than the more
advanced bird. 'The old Red-heads resemble, in tint, the
Canvass-back, and it is only by the shape and colour of the
bill, that a partial observer can distinguish them. The
male Canvass-back is also much darker than the female, and
may have occasioned the error. Mr. Titian R. Peale,
Mr. George Ord, and Mr. C. L. Bonaparte, all ornitholo-
gists of great eminence, and accustomed to visiting the
Chesapeake, particularly Mr. Peale, support Wilson in
the belief of the existence of but one variety.

The same writer also states, that the “ Canvass-backs breed
in great abundance with other Ducks on the sea marshes
and small islands that are not habitable, along the shores
of the Gulf of Mexico. Large patches of ground are taken
up with their nests, which are about four feet apart.?”?—
In ¢his assertion he is undoubtedly mistaken. The Black
Duck, (Awas obscura,)and the Summer Duck, (A. sponsa,)
are the only Ducks that breed to any extent in the United
States. It occasionally happens that crippled Ducks of
other species consort together, and remain through the
warm season, but this is so alien to their usual habits, that
it cannot be regarded as natural to them.

What have been mistaken for the nests and eggs of the
Canvass-backs, have no doubt been those of other birds,
perhaps a species of Gull, some of which tribe deposit
eggs not very unlike the Duck’s and quite as edible.
He also asserts, that ‘¢ Ducks of different species never
associate—never roost together, nor fly in the same flock,
when they are scared up together from the feeding ground.””
If I was not convinced by his general correctness, that the
author has witnessed the habits of these birds himself, to
a certain extent, I should suppose he had taken the obser-
vations of very superficial observers for his guide. I have,
certainly, hundreds of times, seen Canvass-backs, Red-
heads, Black-heads, and Bald-pates, roosting, feeding, and
flying together; the latter, on many occasions, when they
had not been alarmed from their feeding ground, but mak-
ing their morning and evening flight, and when it must
have been a matter of choice. I have myself, times be-
yond number (and also witnessed the same in others)
killed at one discharge two species out of the same flying

42 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

or sitting flock. This, I should presume, had been the
experience of most Duck shooters on the Chesapeake.

The Red-head and Canvass-back are most accustomed to
associate in feeding and flying, and nothing is more com-
mon than to hear the whistle of the Bald-pate in a flock of
some scores of the kinds just mentioned, which whistle, in
a flying flock, is always dreaded by the gunner as indicative
of an alarm in these watchful birds, which soon extends to
the rest, and prevents the possibility of a close shot.

The writer above alluded to, has named the species of
Ducks usually found on the Chesapeake and its tributary
streams; but as he has given different names for the same
birds, it may mislead. For example, he speaks of the
Widgeon and Bald Pate as two varieties, when they are
the same species. It is the same with the Bull or Buffel
head, and the Dipper; and the Coote or Surf Duck, I
presume, to be one of his varieties of Black-head. He does
not mention the little Ruddy Duck, or Heavy-tail, as it is
called, although they abound in every nook and cove.

The following is a correct table of the Ducks that are
found on those waters:—

Swan, (Cygnus Americanus.) Goose, (Anas Cana-
densis.) Brant, (A. bernicia.) Canvass-back, (A. valisi-
neria.) Red-head, (A. ferina.) Bald-pate, or Widgeon,
(A. Americana.) Blue-bill, or Black-head, (A. maria.)
Scoter Duck, (A. nigra.) Tufted Duck, (A. fuligula,
Wilson and Furieuna rufitorques, Bonaparte.) Blue-
wing Teal, (A. discors.) Green do. do. (A. crecca.)
Mallard, (A. doschas.) Black Duck, (A. obscura.) Buf-
fel-head, Butter-box, or Dipper, (A. albeola.) Gadwall,
or Grey Duck, (A. strepera.) Spoon-bill, or Shoveller,
(A. clypeata.) Sprig, or Pin-tail, (A. acuta.) Golden-
eye, (A.clangula.) Velvet, or Channel Duck, (A. fusea,)
Ruddy Duck, or Heavy-tail, (A. rwbidus.) South South-
erly, Long-tailed Duck, or Old Wives, (A. glacialis.)
Surf Duck, (A. perspicillata.) Water Witch, or little
Grebe, (Popicers Carolinensis,) and the Horned Grebe,
sometimes called Water Witch, (P. cornutus,) Goosander,
(Mercus merganser,) and the Red-breasted Merganser,
Hairy-crown, or Fisherman, (M. serrator.)

I will close my strictures on the Register corres-
pondent, and give the result of a few days shooting on
the Chesapeake, last fall, by a party of four gentlemen, of
which I wasone. We were landed on our Point, from the
Port Deposit steam boat, at 2 P.M. Weather cool; little
wind, and that favourable; a small flight—

Ey ERE Se EE) = ie Conese and Red-heads.
2d day—wind and weather fair,

flight pretty good, - 53 do. do.
3d day—sultry—not a breath of air,

and a poor flight, - 61 do. do. do.

do. etc.

4th day—same weather, flight - 1 Swan.

still less - - 238 Canyass-back, etc,
5th day, till 9 A. M:—weather and
flight good, - - 39 do. do.

201

Of this number, there were, 2 Swans—92 Canvass-backs—86 Red-
necks—13 Black-heads—4 Buffel-heads—1 Golden-eye—1 Black Duck—
1 Mallard, and 1 Fisherman.

I do not give this statement as great success; but it was
good,—considering the space of time,—that all were shot
on the wing, from the points,—and that during two days
every thing was unfavourable, and exactly that combina-
tion of circumstances that would prevent a resident on the
Bay from even loading his gun.

Being a thorough Sportsman yourself, Mr. Editor, you
are fully aware that the pleasure of such amusements does
not depend solely upon the quantity of game bagged; for
if so, the toling, or skiffing shots, procuring more birds,
would consequently produce more delight. But ¢haé mur-
derous mode being deficient in the great cause of plea-
sure, excitement, itis rarely practised by the real Sports-
man. Any person, who can holda gun to his shoulder, can
kill Ducks on the water; but to strike them at 60 or 80
yards distance, when flying at the rate of 87 feet ina second
of time, requires a dexterity in the use of the gun that
every man cannot boast of; and to do with even compara-
tive certainty, what few can attain to, isa pleasure that the
indolent foler cannot conceive.

To have a shot, occasionally, even without killing, is an
agreeable mode of passing a certain time, somewhat like
Dr. Franklin’s nibbling fisherman; for you have leisure
to calculate the value of your gun, the range of your shot,
and your deficiencies, preparatory to the next bird. But
when you have a good point, fine weather, —fair wind, —
handsome flight, —industrious dog,—trusty gun,—genuine
Pigou or Dupont,—Sparkes’ single B., and a friend to
praise a good and excuse a bad shot,—no man can
want a doctor, or, for the time, an additional pleasure in
the world. I. T.S.

DEER HUNTING.

Tur different modes of destroying Deer are probably
too well understood, and too successfully practised, in the
United States; for, notwithstanding the almost incredible
abundance of these beautiful animals in our forests and

prairies, such havoc is carried on amongst them, that, in a

few centuries, they will probable be as scarce in America,
as the Great Bustard now is in Britain.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 43

We have three modes of hunting Deer, each varying, in
some slight degree, in the different states and districts.
The first is termed S¢id/ Hunting, and is by far the most
destructive. The second is called Mire-light Hunting,
and is next inits exterminating effects. The third, which
may be looked upon as a mere amusement, is named
Driving. Although many Deer are destroyed by this
latter method, it is not by any means so pernicious as the
others. These methods I shall describe separately.

Still Hunting is followed as a kind of trade by most of
our frontier men. To be practised with success, it re-
quires great activity, an expert management of the rifle,
and a thorough knowledge of the forest, together with an
intimate acquaintance with the habits of the Deer, not only
at different seasons of the year, but also at every hour of
the day, as the hunter must be aware of the situations
which the game prefers, and in which it is most likely to
be found, at any particular time.

Illustrations of any kind require to be presented in the
best possible light. We will therefore suppose that we
are now about to follow the true hunter, as the Still Hunter
is also called, through the interior of the tangled woods,
across morasses, ravines, and such places, where the game
may prove more or less plentiful, even should none be
found there in the first instance. We will allow our
hunter all the agility, patience, and care, which his occu-
pation requires, and will march in his rear, as if we were
spies, watching all his motions.

His dress, you observe, consists of a leather hunting-
shirt, and a pair of trowsers of the same material. His
feet are well moccasined; he wears a belt round his waist;
his heavy rifle is resting on his.brawny shoulder; on one
side hangs his ball-pouch, surmounted by the horn of an
ancient Buffalo, once the terror of the herd, but now con-
taining a pound of the best gunpowder; his butcher-knife
is scabbarded in the same strap, and behind is a tomahawk,
the handle of which has been thrust through his girdle.
He walks with so rapid a step, that probably few men
could follow him, unless for a short distance, in their
anxiety to witness his ruthless deeds. He stops, looks at
the flint of his gun, its priming, and the leather cover of
the lock, then glances his eye towards the sky, to judge of
the course most likely to lead him to the game.

The heavens are clear, the red glare of the morning sun
gleams through the lower branches of the lofty trees, the
dew hangs in pearly drops at the top of every leaf. Al-
ready has the emerald hue of the foliage been converted
into the more glowing tints of our autumnal months. A slight
frost appears on the fence-rails of his little corn-field. As
he proceeds, he looks to the dead foliage under his feet, in
search of the well known traces of abuck’shoof. Now he

bends toward the ground, on which something has attracted
his attention. See! he alters his course, increases his
speed, and will soon reach the opposite hill. Now, he moves
with caution, stops at almost every tree, and peeps forward
as if already within shooting distance of the game. [He ad-
vances again, but how very slowly! He has reached the
declivity, upon which the sun shines in all its growing
splendour. But mark him! he takes the gun from his
shoulder, has already thrown aside the leathern cover of
the lock, and is wiping the edge of his flint with his tongue.
Now he stands like a monumental figure, perhaps mea-
suring the distance that lies between him and the game,
which he hasin view. His rifle is slowly raised—the re-
port follows—and he runs. Let us run also. Shall I
speak to him, and ask him the result of this first essay ?
Assuredly, reader, for I know him well.

“* Pray, friend, what have you killed?” for to say,
“‘what have you shot at ??? might imply the possibility of
his having missed, and so might hurt his feelings. —
‘Nothing but a buck.”? «And where is it?” « Oh, it
has taken a jump or so, but I settled it, and will soon be
with it. My ball struck, and must have gone through his
heart.”” We arrive at the spot, where the animal had laid
itself down among the grass in a thicket of grape-vines,
sumachs, and spruce-bushes, where it intended to repose
during the middle of the day. The place is covered with
blood, the hoofs of the Deer have left deep prints in the
ground as it bounced in the agonies produced by its wound;
but the blood that has gushed from its side, discloses the
course which it has taken. We soon reach the spot.
There lies the buck, its tongue out, its eye dim, its breath
exhausted; it isdead. The hunter draws his knife, cuts
the buck’s throat almost asunder, and prepares to skin it.
For this purpose he hangs it upon the branch of a tree.
When the skin is removed, he cuts off the hams, and aban-
doning the rest of the carcass to the wolves and vultures,
reloads his gun, flings the venison, enclosed by the skin,
upon his back, secures it with a strap, and walks off in
search of more game, well knowing that, in the immediate
neighbourhood, another at least is to be found.

Had the weather been warmer, the hunter would have
sought for the buck along the shadowy side of the hills.
Had it been the spring season, he would have led us
through some thick cane-brake, to the margin of some re-
mote lake, where you would have seen the Deerimmersed to
his head in the water, to save his body from the tormenting
attacks of moschettoes. Had winter overspread the earth
witha covering ofsnow he would havesearched the low damp
woods, where the mosses and lichens, on which at that
period the Deer feeds, abound, the trees being generally
crusted with them for several feet from the ground. At

44 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

one time, he might have marked the places where the Deer
clears the velvet from his horns, by rubbing them against
the low stems of bushes, and where he frequently scrapes
the earth with his fore-hoofs; at another, he would have
betaken himself to places where persimons and crab-apples
abound, as beneath these trees the Deer frequently stops to
munch their fruits. During early spring, our hunter would
imitate the bleating of the doe, and thus frequently obtain
both herand the fawn; orlikesome tribes of Indians, he would
prepare a Deer’s head, placed on a stick, and creeping with
it amongst the tall grass of the prairies, would decoy the
Deer within reach of his rifle. But we have seen enough
of the stzll hunter. Luet it suffice for me to add, that by
the mode pursued by him, thousands of Deer are annually
killed, many individuals shooting these animals merely
for the skin, not caring for even the most valuable portions
of the flesh, unless hunger, or a near market, induces them
to carry off the hams.

The mode of destroying Deer by jire-light, or, as it is
named in some parts of the country, forest-light, never
fails to produce a very singular feeling in him who wit-
nesses it for the first time. There is something in it which
at times appears awfully grand. At other times a certain
degree of fear creeps over the mind, and even affects the
physical powers of him who follows the hunter through
the thick undergrowth of our woods, having to leap his
horse over hundreds of huge fallen trunks, at one time
impeded by a straggling grape-vine crossing his path, at
another squeezed between two stubborn saplings, whilst
their twigs come smack in his face, as his companion has
forced his way through them. Again, he every now and
then runs the risk of breaking his neck, by being suddenly
pitched headlong on the ground, as his horse sinks into a
hole, covered over with moss. But I must proceed in a more
regular manner, and leave my reader to judge whether
such a mode of hunting would suit his taste or not.

The hunter has returned to his camp or his house, has
rested and eaten of his game. He waits impatiently for
the return of night. He has procured a quantity of pine-
knots, filled with resinous matter, and has an old frying-
pan, that, for aught I know to the contrary, may have been
used by his great-grandmother, in which the pine-knots are
to be placed when lighted. The horses stand saddled at
the door. The hunter comes forth, his rifle slung on his
shoulder, and springs upon one of them, while his son, or
a servant, mounts the other, with the frying-pan and the
pine-knots. Thus accoutred, they proceed towards the
interior of the forest. When they have arrived at the spot
where the hunt is to begin, they strike fire with a flint and
steel, and kindle the resinous wood. The person who
carries the fire, moves in the direction judged to be the

best. The blaze illuminates the near objects, but the dis-
tant parts seem involved in deepest obscurity. The hun-
ter who bears the gun keeps immediately in front, and
after a while discovers before him two feeble lights, which
are procured by the reflection of the pine fire from the
eyes of an animal of the deer or wolf kind. The animal
stands quite still. To one, unacquainted with this strange
mode of hunting, the glare from its eyes might bring to
his imagination some lost hobgoblin that had strayed
from itsusual haunts. The hunter, however, nowise intimi-
dated, approaches the object, sometimes so near as to dis-
cern its form, when raising the rifle to his shoulder, he
fires and kills it on the spot. He then dismounts, se-
cures the skin and such portions of the flesh as he may
want, in the manner already described, and continues his
search through the greater part of the night, sometimes
until the dawn of day, shooting from five to ten Deer,
should these animals be plentiful. This kind of hunting
proves fatal, not to the Deer alone, but also sometimes to
wolves, and now and then to a horse or a cow, which may
have straggled far into the woods.

Now, reader, prepare to mount a generous, full-blood
Virginian Hunter. See that your gun is in complete order;
for, hark to the sound of the bugle and horn, and
the mingled clamour of a pack of harriers! Your friends
are waiting you, under the shade of the wood, and we
must together go driving the light-footed Deer. The dis-
tance over which one has to travel is seldom felt, when
pleasure is anticipated as the result; so, galloping we go
pell-mell through the woods, to some well-known place,
where many a fine buck has drooped its antlers under the
ball of the hunter’s rifle. The servants, who are called the
drivers, have already begun their search. Their voices
are heard exciting the hounds, and unless we put spurs to
our steeds, we may be too late at our stand, and thus lose
the first opportunity of shooting the fleeting game as it
passes by. Hark again! the dogs are in chase, the horn
sounds louder and more clearly. Hurry, hurry on, or we
shall be sadly behind!

Here we are at last! Dismount, fasten your horse to
this tree, place yourself by the side of that large yellow
poplar, and mind you do not shoot me! The Deer is fast
approaching; I will to my own stand, and he who shoots
him dead wins the prize.

The Deer is heard coming. It has inadvertently cracked
a dead stick with its hoof, and the dogs are now so near it
that it will passin a moment. There it comes! How beau-
tifully it bounds over the ground! What a splendid head
of horns! How easy its attitudes, depending, as it seems
to do, on its own swiftness for safety! All is in vain, how-
ever: a gun is fired, the animal plunges and doubles with

AND AMERICAN

Incomparable speed. There he goes! He passes another
stand, from which a second shot, better directed than the
first, brings him to the ground. The dogs, the servants,
the sportsmen, are now rushing forward to the spot. The
hunter who has shot itis congratulated on his skill or good
luck, and the chase begins again in some other part of
the woods.

A few lines ofexplanation may be required to convey a
clear idea of this mode of hunting. Deer are fond of fol-
lowing and retracing the paths which they have formerly
pursued, and continue to do so even after they have been
shot at more than once. These tracks are discovered by
persons on horseback in the woods, or a Deer is observed
crossing a road, a field, or a small stream. When this has
been noticed twice, the Deer may be shot from the places
called stands by the sportsman, who is stationed there,
and waits for it, a line of stands being generally formed so
as to cross the path which the game will follow. The per-
son who ascertains the usual pass of the game, or disco-
vers the parts where the animal feeds or lies down during
the day, gives intimation to his friends, who then pre-
‘pare for the chase. The servants start the Deer with the
hounds, and, by good management, generally succeed in
making it run the course that will soonest bring it to its
death. But, should the Deer be cautious, and take ano-
ther course, the hunters, mounted on swift horses, gallop
through the woods to intercept it, guided by the sound of
the horns and the ery of the dogs, and frequently succeed
in shooting it. This sport is extremely agreeable, and
proves successful on almost every occasion.—Zudubon.

ON THE PRESERVATION OF THE PARTRIDGE.

Tux favourite game bird of the Sportsman, is the
Partridge, and towards it he always manifests feelings of
solicitude, to preserve it from undue destruction, whether
by the severity of our winters, or the rapacity of its ene-
mies; and the expense which he frequently incurs, to-
wards the accomplishment of this object, evidently proves,
that he regards this interesting bird altogether as a source
of pleasure, and not of profit, and when he pursues them
for recreation, although he is anxious to secure a full bag,
and prove that he is worthy of the title he claims, he is
often checked, in the midst of his success, by feelings
which prompt him to forbear further destruction. Has
not every ¢rue Sportsman, sometime in the course of his
experience,—when, on the close of a successful day’s hunt
found himself in the midst of a well scattered covey, and

M

RURAL SPORTS. 45
while he was working destruction to the right and left,—
felt such sensations creeping over him, as to cause him
suddenly to desist from further pursuit? And what
is it that checks him in the harvest he is gathering ?—
It is not consciousness of doing wrong, that bids him for-
bear, for there is no moral responsibility attached to the
action; but itis from a conviction, that further prosecution
of his success on that covey, will dry up the source of
his future pleasure, and leave none to produce offspring
for the next season.

No Sportsman will visit the remaining part of a covey,
after he has reduced it to four or five birds. This is one
method of preserving game, and may be called protection
by forbearance. ;

Some years since, a large number of Partridges were
purchased and kept through the winter séason, by the
united efforts of a number of Sportsmen in Philadelphia,
and the neighbouring parts of New-Jersey. The number
of birds, I think, exceeded two thousand, and when set at
liberty, in the following spring, were let off in pairs over
a very extensive part of the neighbourhood. The benefit
arising from this course, was manifested during the fol-
lowing season; but this plan, which one would think
should conciliate the friendship of the farmers, and excite
good will towards those gentlemen who effected this ob-
ject, had on the minds of many a contrary effect, although
the birds were bought of them in thé winter, and returned
again in March.

In the succeeding fall, many landholders came to.a re-
solution to prevent Sportsmen from shooting on their
grounds; and accordingly printed notices were signed by
them, and circulated throughout the neighbourhood, warn-
ing all gunners from trespassing on their farms, under the
severest penalties of the law. This, of course, was a
check to like operations in future years; and I believe it
has never been attempted, to any extent, since. Many
Sportsmen, however, purchase all the living birds to be
met with on sale, and keep them over the winter, and re-
lease them again in the spring. This may pass, then, as
the second method of preserving game, viz. protection
by sustenance.

The last manner of preserving the Partridge, is by per-
secution. Yes, strange as it may appear, moderate perse-
cution has a tendency to protect game. It is natural for
inferior animals to avoid the persecution of their superiors,
and there are none whose timidity is more easily excited
than that of the Partridge. When undisturbed, these
birds will visit the stackyards and gardens, and even mix
with the domestic fowls, to share their food. But a little
persecution will soon drive them to seek shelter in the
brakes and thickets of the neighbourhood; before, they

46 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

were unsuspicious and familiar—now they are cautious and
exceedingly vigilant; formerly, they fed on open ground,
could be seen by the road-side, or in the foot-path of the
passenger—but now, every noise alarms them, and they
glean their simple fare only in the tall grass and stubble,
or among the bushes. A few shots at a covey of Partridges
will put them more on the alert than the visitations of their
natural enemies, and in this way the Sportsman destroys
that state of domesticity in these birds which may be ob-
servable on all those farms prohibited to the footsteps of
the shooter. He drives them from open grounds into
greater security against various other enemies; and while
those birds, which have been fostered and protected in the
covetousness of the farmer, fall an easy prey to the snares
and traps abounding on such farms, the others are suspi-
cious of every thing, and will avoid the most ingenious
devices laid to entrap them; and by reason of their seek-
ing constant shelter in better cover, they more readily
escape the vigilance of hawks.

Landholders are greatly mistaken, when they suppose
that they afford sure protection to their Partridges by ex-
excluding Sportsmen from visiting their grounds. Many
of these will tell you, that ‘‘ they wish their birds pre-
served, and do not wish you to shoot them.”” And yet
if you will visit the nooks and corners of their fields and
thickets, you will find an abundance of traps and snares.
Their prohibition does not, therefore, arise from any re-
spect 1o the welfare of the birds, so much as to gratify
their avaricious dispositions, by catching the birds them-
selves, and vending them in market. Their mode of
catching these birds, too, is often attended with much
eruelty. The writer has often, in his rambles, found traps
and snoods, containing birds; and in several instances, when
confined in the former, they appeared in a half-starved
condition; and in the latter, the poor prisoners, half
choked, had been dangling by the neck for days. But so
long as avarice is the ruling principle of these men, it is
all in vain to talk of preserving game on farms adjacent to
any good market. ;

It is much to be regretted that the price of Partridges
is so high. Fifty cents a pair can be readily obtained for
them, at this time, in the Philadelphia market; and while
such inducements are held out to coyetous farmers and
others to destroy Partridges, it is not to be wondered at,
that Sportsmen should be forbidden to visit places where
these birds are found. If farmers sincerely wish to
have a due proportion of these truly interesting birds at all
times on their plantations, let them first destroy all the
snares and traps about them, and then drive poachers, or
gunners, from their premises, especially during that pe-
riod when the earth is covered with snow. The latter

persons will oftentimes destroy an entire covey of Part-
ridges at a single shot; and, if even two or three should
escape the destructive fire, they will more than likely pe-
rish by the severity of the weather, for want of sufficient
company to keep them warm at night, as it is known, by
their manner of roosting, they impart equal warmth to
each other. During the first snows of the season, I have
known some reckless gunners to follow the trail of Part-
ridges along hedge-rows, until the birds would huddle
together in a space not eighteen inches in diameter, when,.
with a deadly fire, they would kill two-thirds of their
number. And on one occasion, I knew a man, after he
had thus succeeded in getting a covey huddled up, to fire
on them, and on going up, finding one bird escaped, and

thirteen dead, he expressed great dissatisfaction that he-

did not get the whole of them.

I think, then, it is by no means the interest of farmers
to exclude Sportsmen from shooting on their grounds, if
visited by them in moderation. A Sportsman may be
known by his dogs, manner of hunting, and the seasons he
appropriates to that amusement. No Sportsman will hunt

in the snow, and all others gunning on Partridge grounds,

at that time, should he driven off.

I have strictly observed, for some years, that protected —

grounds abound with fewer Partridges than those parts
hunted over season after season by Sportsmen, and sim-
ply for the reason before stated, that their half-domesticity
renders them an easy prey to their enemies. I have had
my favourite districts, within-a short distance to a day’s
ride of Philadelphia; over these I have hunted successfully
every year for a number of years; and every succeeding
season brought along with it the same plenitude of birds.
Two spots, one within seven, and the other forty miles of
this city, have been my favourites. These I have visited,
the former nearly every week during the sporting season;
and the latter, every day or two for several weeks at a
time. On the first, (sometimes with a eompanion,) I have
invariably bagged from fifteen to forty birds, and on one
occasion sixty! Sixty Partridges, or fully four coveys, off
of one district, in a single hunt; and.yet the next season, the
number of birds seemed undiminished. On the latter
ground, I have even been more successful, from which I
haye never bagged less than twenty, and from that num-
ber up to forty-five birds; perhaps the general average
would be twenty-five, and I seldom commenced my
shooting season until the 15th of October. With this
continued success, I have never found the number of birds
less on the succeeding season, until the inclemency of the
weather, a few winters ago, nearly depopulated all of the
middle and northern states of Partridges.

I think most Sportsmen will agree with me in these ob-

AND AMERICAN

servations. There isno doubt, that if they will consult
their experience, they will find they have realized the
truth of these leading points.

I willventure to assert, that if landholders,in some favour-
able portion of the country—say a considerable area in any
cultivated part of New-Jersey, for instance—will make the
experiment, and place the whole of their gameunder the pro-
tection of a givennumber of Sportsmen, the increase of birds
will be much greaterthan by any other method. I would not
destroy the traps and snares of the farmers’ boys, but let
them catch as many as they can. The Sportsman is to
be unrestrained in regard to the number of days he wishes
to hunt; but every other individual, with a gun, found tres-
passing, must be turned off of the privileged spot; and I
feel confident, that this district would produce, every sea-
son, a greater number of Partridges than any other of the
same magnitude throughout the state. D.

January 27, 1834.

THE SCOTCH DOCTOR AND THE JACKALLS.

Doctor § was on board a Company’s ship lying
at or near Diamond Harbour; and being short of amuse-
ment, and feeling the bump of destructiveness more
strongly developed than usual on the surface of his peri-
cranium, he took up his gun, and went on shore to lay
wait for the Jackalls. In his walk along the beach he en-
countered the carease of a dead buffalo—and, thinking
himself sure of sport, lay down behind some bushes, and
waited till the moon rose. Jackalls poured down from the
woods by dozens, and began to pick the buffalo’s bones.
The Doctor cocked his percussion—and thought to him-
self, <The de’il my coveys!—boot I ha’ thee noo!—
here gooes for wha’s the best mon, a Scot or a Jackall!’
No sooner said than done,—the Doctor blazed away right
and left, and through the cloud of his own smoke, dashed
down the beach to bag his game! Alas! not a Jackall’s
brush was singed!—and, to the Doctor’s consternation,
instead of running away, the animals stood looking at him
with much coolness; and though frightened by the report at
first, they now began to collect round him, in great num-
bers, as if unwilling to be choused of their booty. Dr.
8 thought they might relish a bonny Scotsman more
than a carrion buffalo, and fumbled for his ammunition.
But, unlike a wise general, he had left his powder-flask un-
der the bushes; and the gaunt bony forms of the Jackalls were
now stealing down towards him from that quarter. ‘The
de’il!—the de’ill!—but my retreat is cut ooff!’? wailed the

RURAL SPORTS. 47

Doctor; ‘‘ and the varmints look as if they would na
mind abit 0’ Christian flesh!’

Strange and almost unparalleled as the incident may
appear—and I had it from the Doctor himself—the hun-
gry Jackalls, when a cloud passed over the moon, began
to encompass him around, and yelping and grinning with
their long fangs, forced the Doctor to back as they ad-
vanced.

Dr. S$ brandished his firelock, and shouted, “ Hoot
awa! Hoot awa’ !’”? with all his vigour; but the cunning
animals seemed aware of his being out of powder, and as the
buffalo lay at the edge of the water, they fairly drove him
into the river up to his chin, shrieking, ‘* Hoot awa!—
hoot awa!—the de’il damn your mither’s sons!”—and
being unwilling to lose his powder-horn, and yet afraid to
attack such a host of ‘¢hoongry beasts,”? he waited shi-
vering in the limpid element for many hours, till the
gray of morning induced his conquerors to retire.

Nothing annoys the Doctor so much as the question:
‘¢ Which is the best mon, Doctor, a Scot or a Jackall 2’
I believe it was S ’s first and last sporting excursion.

He left off shooting on the wise principle of a cele-
brated tiger-shot, who having killed nine, and narrowly
escaped being torn in pieces by the tenth, relinquished the
sport for ever : and, when jeered for his timidity, he coldly
replied, ‘ Tiger-hunting is a delightful recreation while
you hunt the ¢¢ger, but not quite so agreeable when the
tiger takes it into his head to hunt you.”

[London Sport. Mag.

THE HUMMING BIRD,

BY MRS. FURNER,

Say, feather’d gem, of rain-bow dyes,
With ruby breast and emerald wing,

Gay glittering in the sunny skies,
Like flitting flash of lightning.

Say—is that busy, busy hum,
Thy joyous song of love ? or fear
Lest some rude rival bee, should come,
Thy favourite flowers too near?

Or canst thou from that tiny bill,
A silvery lay of sweetness pour,

The bosom of thy mate to thrill
With fairy lover’s lore ?

And can that little breast e’er beat
With passion’s ardent glow ?
Feel anger’s stern, impetuous heat
Or love’s fond fervour know ?

48 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

As hov’ring o’er the scarlet bloom,
Or resting on a lily’s stem,

Does fancy in the rich perfume
Bring thoughts of love with them?

And when I see thee quickly dart

On whirring wing from flower to flower,
Say, is thy little constant heart

Quick beating for thy true love’s bower?

Go, haste thee, then, sweet bird of love,
And quickly sip the rich repast ;

For birds, as well as mortals, prove
That joys the sweetest, seldom last.

Go, sparkle on thy short-lived day,
’Mid Fronra’s treasures bright,

Like zephyrs wing thy wanton way,
For ah! too swiftly comes thy night.

And when at eve thou leav’st my porch,
Go lead thy little Iove to rest 5

The fire-fly be thy hymen’s torch,
A full blown rose thy tiny nest.

TO PREVENT HYDROPHOBIA.

Tux saliva of the mad dog, has the property, when in-
serted under the skin, of communicating hydrophobia to
other animals, and to man. M. Coster has been able, by
the use of Chlorine, to decompose this deadly poison, and
render it harmless, preventing the approach of hydropho-
bia in animals bitten by dogs decidedly rabid. There
can be no doubt of the accuracy of the experiment on
which this statement is predicated.

From this the most important practical results follow:

Make a strong wash by dissolving two table-spoonfuls
of the chloruret of lime in halfa pint of water, and instantly
and repeatedly bathe the part bitten. The poison will
in this way be decomposed. It has proved successful
when applied within six hours after the animal has been
bitten.

From what we now know of the powers of Chlorine, it
is not too much to hope for, that it may prove an antidote
to every case of poison, provided it be applied in season,
and before the system is fatally affected.

It appears highly probable that hydrogen, from its being
the lightest and most subtle of all known ponderable
bodies, may enter into the composition of such active
agents as poison. Fontana examined the poison of the
viper and of other animals, but we know not whether, as
in prussic acid, hydrogen is the active principle. In the
present No. it appears that Chlorine destroyed the effect

of prussic acid, the most active poison known, even after it
had gone far towards producing death. Itis therefore credi-
ble, that it may destroy other poisons, haying a similar
constitution; and we can readily understand the modus
operandi in such eases; for Chlorine takes hydrogen from
every combination, and of course destroys the peculiar
character of the compound. Prussic acid itself consists of
nothing but the ordinary elements of animal matter, such
as are daily used for food; but in the acid they are
combined in a peculiar manner, and the withdrawing of
hydrogen from it, at once subverts the combination, and
renders it harmless.

The practical use which we would make of the facts
which we know, and of the theoretical views which we en-
tertain is, that Chloride of Lime should be kept in every
family ready for instant use in the multiplied cases in
which it is applicable.-—Stl/iiman’s Journal.

EFFICACY OF AMMONIA IN CURING THE STINGS OF BEES,
AND COUNTERACTING OTHER POISONS.

BY DR. CHURCH, OF COOPERSTOWN, N. ¥.

A young man in this place had accidentally overset a
hive of bees, and before he could escape, they had settled,
in great numbers, on different parts of his body and limbs,
and stung him very severely. It was about halfan hour after
the accident happened, when he came to my office in
great agony, and he had scarcely time to give an account
of it before he fainted. J immediately applied the ammo-
nia to the parts that had been stung, his legs, arms, and
breast. He directly recovered from his faintness, and ex-
perienced no pain or other inconvenience afterwards.

It is several years since I first used the aqua ammonie,
to counteract the effect of the bites of insects and stings
of bees, and it has invariably produced instant relief—gene-
rally complete. I have often seen children crying in ex-
cessive pain from the sting of a bee, and on the application
of the ammonia they would immediately cease complaining
and become cheerful; so complete and sudden is the relief
it produces. I always use it for musquito bites, and they
never trouble me farther. I was led to the use of it in these
cases, from the instantaneous effect it was said to have in
counteracting the operation of prussic acid. In the second
number of the American Journal of Medical Sciences,
(Philadelphia,) for last year, it will be seen that Dr. Moore,
of Alabama, used it with great success in the cure of ve-
nomous serpents. I have sometimes noticed that the ap-
plication is more efficacious than at others, and I think it
must be on account of its being sometimes carbonated and
at others not.—Jb.

AGENT FOR NEW-YORK CITY AND BROOKLYN,
P. Af. MESIER, 28 WALE STREET.

AGENTS

For

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

AND

AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Maine—Samuel Colman, Portland.

Massacuuserts—Allen and Ticknor, Boston; Charles Whipple, Newburyport.

Ruope Istanp— , Providence.

Connecticutr—Hezekiah Howe, New-Haven.

New-Yorr—P. A. Mesier, 28 Wall st., New-York City; Weare C. Little, @bany
and Schenectady; G.J. Grosvenor, Esq. P. M., Geneva; John De Witt, West
Point; Aaron Belknap, Esq., Newburgh; P. Potter, Poughkeepsie; Craw-
ford Livingston, Hudson; Wm. S. Parker, Troyand Lansingburgh; H. & E.
Phinney, Utica and Little Falls; J. S. V. Yates, Syracuse; H. Ivison & Co.,
Auburn; Bemis & Ward, Canandaigua, Samuel Drake, Rochester.

New-Jersey—H. R. Merseilles, Bridgetown.

PennsyLvania—Aaron Lambert, New-Hope; James Peacock, P. M., Harrisburg.

Maryrayp—k. J. Coale, & Co., Baltimore; Dennis Claude, Annapolis.

Disrricr or Corumsra—Pishey Thompson, Washington City; R. Zimmerman,
Alexandria.

Virernta—John W. Campbell, Petersburgh; E. P. Nash, Norfolk; R. I. Smith,
Richmond; William F. Gray, P. M., Fredericksburg.

Norra Carorina—Turner & Hughes, Raleigh.

Sour Carotina—W., H. Berritt, Charleston; Alexander Young, Camden; B.
D. & T. H. Plant, Columbia.

Grore1a—Richards & Ganahl, 2ugusta; William T. Williams, Savannah.

TENNESSEE—Hichbaum & Norvell, Nashville.

Outo—Jostan Drake & Co., Cincinnati; B. Larnam, P. M., Columbus.

In order to make this Work still more attractive and useful, the Editor in-
tends to introduce a new branch of our Natural History, without any additional ex-

pense to Subscribers.

This will be the NORTH AMERICAN SYLVA, or the History of our
Forest Trees. Wherever it is possible, a Branch of one of the Forest Trees will be
figured in a plate with the Birds, like that represented in the first plate of this Num-
ber. And it is expected, by this method, the whole of our Native Trees will be
introduced in the Work, by the time the other branches of Natural History are

completed.

THE

CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

AND

AMBRICAN RURAL SPORTS

Is pEstenED to embrace the higher and more interesting branches of Zoology;
yiz: Ornithology and Mammalogy, together with an account of the sports and pas-
times of North America.

This work will be issued in numbers, about every five weeks, in a quarto form,
and printed with new type on fine royal paper. Each number will contain twenty-
four pages of closely printed matter, and embellished with two beautiful coloured
plates, of Birds and Quadrupeds, drawn from nature, and executed in the best
style, with a perfect history of each object so represented. It will also contain
many interesting Anecdotes, relating to Natural History, and all other subjeet
which may give interest, comportable with the spirit of the work, as connected
with fishing, hunting, and shooting parties, the various clubs established for gym-
nastic exercises, aquatic sports, &c. &c.

TERMS—HBight Dollars per annum, payable in advance.

J. DOUGHTY,
No. 5, Library street, Philadelphia

Persons procuring seven subscribers, and remitting the money to me, shall
receive eight copies of the work

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in payment for subscriptions to this work.

A thirteenth number will be added to the above, which will contain the Por-
irait of a Naturalist and his Biography.

No. Hl.

CABINET

OF

NATURAL HISTORY ©

AND

AMERICAN BUBAL SPORTS,

WiTH ILLUSTRATIONS.

A MONTHLY PUBLICATION.

VOL. III.

PHtladelpHta :
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOUGHTY, NO. 5, LIBRARY STREET, ABOVE FOURTH.

WILLIAM STAVELY, PRINTER.

INDEX

TO THE

THIRD NUMBER, VOLUME III.

Pratt V. Prong-horned Antilope.

PAGE
History of the Prong-horned Antilope = - = = = 2 = = 49
Migration of Mammiferous Quadrupeds - = - - - 51
Cave of Guacharo, near Cumana- = - - = = 2 e és, he 55
Notes of a Naturalist. By Jacos Green, M.D. - - - - - 56
History of the Willow Oak - - - = = 2 4 : 60.

Puate VI. Chesnut-sided Warbler.
Baltimore Oriole.
A branch of the Willow Oak, with leaves and acorns of the

natural size.

History of the Chesnut-sided Warbler = - ~ = - - = 61
% «¢ Baltimore Oriole - - = = = = = 7d.
Extract from the Diary of an Ornithologist during a Southern Tour, (concluded,) 64

Hawking and Tiger-hunting in India - - - : - 2 4 67
Sporting in Bengal Bas ar epic ae SERMa i= treger eget : 2 : 68
Sheep killed by Cats - - - - - - : - - - UE

Bh ee 26.

Recipe to cure the Mange in Dogs - 5 = = =

Ee Fy ee ae SAN pee ie ee A Ve RD oe a me ee ne

ee ee

hi
if
i

‘TLV. Vol. TU.

Printéd by Chids & Lehman

PRONG- HORNED ANTILOPE.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

PRONG-HORNED ANTILOPE.
ANTILOPE AMERICANA.
[Plate V. Vol. 3.]

Antilope, Lewis & Cuarxe, 1. 75, 208, 369; 11. 169.—
Antilope Americana, Orv, Gururin’s Geography,
Philad. ed. 1815.—4ntilope Purcifer, Smiru.. Trans.
of Linnen Society, xi. pl. 2.—Prong-horned Ante-
lope, Sas. App. p. 667.—Teuthlulmacame, Hnrnan-
pEz, Noy. His. p. 324, 325, Fig. 324, an. 1651.—Le
Squenoton, Hist. de l’Amerique, p. 175, an. 1723.—
Antilocapra Americana, Orv, Jour. de Phys, 1818.
Harzan, Fauna, p. 250.—Cervus Hamatus, Buain-
vite, Nouy. Bull. Societ. Phil. 1816, p.80.—4ntilope
Palmata, Smiru, Opere Citato. Dusmarust, Mam. p.
476.—Cervus Bifurcatus, Rarinesque.—peestat-
Chekoos, Cres Inp1Ans.—Philadelphia Museum.

Tur Prong-horned Antilope, was first discovered and
described by Lewis and Clarke, while on their journey
across the Rocky Mountains. Previous to this, it was un-
known to naturalists, excepting only a slight notice given
by Hernandez, of a similar animal, said to inhabit Califor-
nia, under the appellation of Zewthlalmacame. The only
preserved specimen of the animal, existing at present in
this country, was brought by the above-mentioned gentle-
men from the Missouri, and deposited in the Philadelphia
Museum. To these, therefore, we are indebted for all the
information we possess respecting this beautiful quadruped,
which has since been confirmed by Dr. Richardson in his
observations on the Northern Zoology, appended to Frank-
lin’s Journey to the Polar Sea.

In noticing the Prong-horned Antilope, Lewis & Clarke
give the following facts:—

‘¢ Of all the animals we had seen, the Antilope seems to
possess the most wonderful fleetness; shy and timorous,
they generally repose only on the ridges, which command
a view of all the approaches of an enemy. ‘The acuteness
of their sight distinguishes the most distant danger, the
delicate sensibility of their smell defeats the precautions of
concealment, and when alarmed their rapid career seems
more like the flight of birds than the movements of an
earthly being. After many unsuccessful attempts, Captain
Lewis at last, by winding around the ridges, approached
a party of seven, which were on an eminence, towards
which the wind was unfortunately blowing. The only
male of the party frequently encircled the summit of the
hill, as if to announce any danger to the females, who
formed a group at the top. Although they did not see

N

49

Captain Lewis, the smell alarmed them, and they fled
when he was at the distance of two hundred yards: he
immediatuly ran to the spot where they had been, a ravine
concealed them from him, but the next moment they
appeared on a second ridge at the distance of three miles.
He doubted whether it could be the same; but their num-
ber, and the extreme rapidity with which they continued
their course, convinced him that they must have gone
with a speed equal to that of the most distinguished race-
horse.

“‘The chief game of the Shoshonees, is the Antilope,
which when pursued retreats to the open plains, where
the horses have full room for the chase. But such is its
extraordinary fleetness and wind that a single horse has no
possible chance of outrunning it, or tiring it down; and
the hunters are therefore obliged to resort to stratagem.
About twenty Indians, mounted on fine horses, and armed
with bows and arrows, left the camp; in a short time they
descriedaherd of ten Antilopes; they immediately separated
into little squads of two or three, and formed a scattered cir-
cle round the herd for five or six miles, keeping ata wary
distance, so as not to alarm them till they were perfectly
inclosed, and usually selecting some commanding eminence
asastand. Having gained their positions, a small party
rode towards the herd, and with wonderful dexterity the
huntsman preserved his seat, and the horse his footing, as
he ran at full speed over the hills, and down the steep ra-
vines, and along the borders of the precipices. They were
soon outstripped by the Antilopes, which on gaining the
other extremity of the circle, were driven back and pur-
sued by the fresh hunters. They turned and flew, rather
than ran in another direction; but they found new enemies.

‘Tn this way they were alternately pursued backwards and

forwards, till at length, notwithstanding the skill of the
hunters, they all escaped, and the party, after running for
two hours, returned without having caught any thing, and
their horses foaming with sweat. This chase, the greater
part of which was seen from the camp, formed a beautiful
scene; but to the hunters is exceedingly laborious, and so
unproductive, even when they are able to worry the ani-
mal down and shoot him, that forty or fifty hunters will
sometimes be engaged for half a day without obtaining
more than two or three Antilopes.

‘¢The Antilope inhabits the great plains of the Colum-
bia, and resembles those found on the banks of the Mis-
souri, and indeed in every part of the untimbered country,
but they are by no means so abundant on this as on the
other side of the Rocky Mountains. The natives make
themselves robes of their skins, and preserve the hair en-
tire. In the summer and autumn, when the salmon begin
to decline, the majority of the natives leave the sides of the

50 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

river, and reside in the open plains, to hunt the Antilope,
which they pursue on horseback, and shoot with their
arrows.”

During the last expedition to the Rocky Mountains,
under Major Long, the following incident occurred, which
eminently displays the wonderful fleetness of the Antilope.
‘¢One afternoon, while the expedition halted, two soldiers,
mounted on excellent horses, went out to hunt. After
going some distance, they discovered, afar off, a female
Antilope, feeding on the prairie. They immediately dis-
mounted, and, after some ingenuity, succeeded in approach-
ing sufficiently near to fire at and wound the animal,
which fled at once. They then returned to their horses,
remounted, and gave chase; but, on arriving at the spot
where the animal had been wounded, they discovered its
fawn, and as their object was diversion, they gave chase to
the fawn in preference to the wounded mother. This they
followed with the most rapid speed for upwards of two
hours, before they succeeded in making it captive, and this
was only effected, when by its exertions it sank exhausted
on the ground, and had nearly worn out the horses and
riders. The little prisoner was taken to the camp almost
lifeless, but being fed on bread and milk, it was soon re-
vived. The next day, as the expedition was moving for-
ward, one of the party led it by his handkerchief; but to
his surprise, instead of making any resistance, or attempts
to escape, it kept pace with his footsteps, and evinced so
much familiarity, that at length he concluded to untie it,
and see if it would follow of its own accord. This it did
for the greater part of the day, when it gave out, and was
left behind, being no doubt greatly weakened by the exer-
tions of the previous day.’? From this fact, it may be
inferred, that the Antilope, iftaken young, would, like the
common deer, (Cervus Virginianus,) leave its kind, and
abide in the habitations of man.

‘¢ The most northerly range of the Prong-horned Anti-
lope,”’ says Dr. Richardson, “is latitude 53°, on the banks
of the north branch of the Saskatchewan. Some of them
remain the whole year on the south branch of that river,
but they are merely summer visitors to the north branch.
They come every year to the neighbourhood of Carlton-
house, when the snow has mostly gone; soon after their
arrival the females drop their young, and they retire to
the southwards again in the autumn as soon as the snow
begins to fall. Almost every year a small herd linger
on a piece of rising ground not far from Carlton-house,
until the snow has become too deep on the plains to per-
mit them to travel overthem. Few or none of that herd,
however, survive until the spring, as they are persecuted
by the wolves during the whole winter. They are found

in the sumnier season in the fifty-third parallel of latitude,
from longitude 106° to the foot of the Rocky Mountains.

«‘The Prong-horned Antilope appears on the banks of
the Saskachewan sometimes a solitary animal, sometimes
assembled in herds of ten or twelve. Its sight and sense
of smell are acute, and its speed is greater than that of
any other inhabitant of the plains, although I have been
informed by Mr. Prudens, who has resided forty years in
that quarter, that when there is a little snow on the ground
it may, with some little management, be run down by a
high bred horse. ‘The Indian hunters have no difficulty
in bringing an Antilope within gun-shot, by various strata-
gems, such as lying down on their backs and kicking their
heels in the air, holding up a white rag, or clothing them-
selves in a white shirt, and showing themselves only at
intervals. By these and similar manceuvres, the curiosity
of a herd of Antilopes is so much roused that they wheel
round the object of their attention, and at length approach
near enough to enable the hunter to make sure of his
mark. From this disposition of the prong-horned Anti-
lopes, they are more easily killed than any of the deer of
the district which they inhabit. They are, however, ob-
jects of little interest to the Indians, who eat their flesh
only when the bison, moose or wapiti are not to be pro-
cured, and their skins are of no value as an article of trade.
The Mandans on the Missouri are said to capture them in
pounds.

‘¢ This animal has a graceful form, a slender head, with
large eyes, and long and delicate limbs. The nostrdls
turn obliquely upwards from the raphe of the upper lip,
and are separated by a small, tumid, triangular, naked
space. The naked margins of the dps are blackish, but
the lips and chin are covered with white hair. The nose
is nearly straight, or very slightly arched, narrow, and is
clothed towards its tip with short hair of a liver-brown
colour, which gradually mingles towards the fore-head
with yellowish brown hair. The orbits have a narrow,
blackish-brown margin, and the eye-lashes, composed of
a row of stiff, erect hairs, are black. The cheeks are
covered with short hair, mostly of a wood-brown colour,
and the forehead is clothed with longer bushy hair, and
presents two white marks, one extending from ear to ear,
the other a little anterior to it; the latter mark is slightly
tinged with brown. The ears are upwards of six inches
high, narrow, and have the inner side curving in for half
their height; from thence to their acute tips they are flat.
They are covered posteriorly by a smooth coat of short
hair, of a yellowish-brown colour, mixed with dark
umber, the latter colour prevailing near the tip. They
are lined interiorly with longer hair, of a grayish
white colour. There is a dark blackish-brown spot

AND AMERICAN

at the angle of each jaw, which exhales a strong
hircine odour, and between this spot and the ear the
hair is pale, or nearly white. There are no external
indications whatever of a crumen or lachrymal opening.
The horns are black, rise directly upwards and outwards,
without any inclination either forwards or backwards, and
curve sharply in towards each other at their tips. At the
base the distance between them is 33 inches; within 2 inches
of the tip, where they begin to curve inwards, the dis-
tance between them is 10% inches, and the tips are 7
inches apart. The horns are much compressed, in a
lateral direction, to about half their height, where they
give out a thin, triangular, or bracket-shaped process,
which projects directly forwards for more than an inch.
The surface of the lower half of the horns is striated, and
is rough, with small warts and knobs, two or three of
which project from a quarter to half an inch. The situa-
tion of these larger knobs varies in different specimens.
The horns above the flat snag have a shining, striated sur-
face, are nearly round, and taper considerably. The
upper parts of the body are of a clear, yellowish-brown
colour, deepening on the ridge of the back into blackish-
gray. The hairs are much longer between the ears, and
on the back of the neck, where they form an erect mane,
of a blackish-brown colour on its tips. The sides and
thighs are paler than the back, and approach in colour to
a clear wood-brown. The under jaw has a very pale
yellowish-brown colour, fading to white. The hair is
bushy about the angle of the lower jaw, and has a wood-
brown colour. This colour forms three belts across the
throat, which differ from each other in breadth, and are
separated by two patches of pure white. The chest,
belly, insides of the thighs, and legs, the tail, and a large
patch round it, which includes the rump, and upper part
of the buttocks, are pure white. There is a pale yellow-
ish mark at the root of the tail. The tail is 44 inches
long. The degs are slender, with long shank-bones; the
fur, covering their anterior surfaces, is yellowish-brown.
It has only two hoofs, there being no vestige of the pos-
terior supplementary ones.

¢¢ The hair which clothes the body, resembles that of
a moose or rein-deer in its structure. It is long, round,
tapering from the root to the point, waved, and of a soft
and brittle texture, particularly towards the root, where it
is easily compressed, and does not regain its round form
again. Its interior is white and spongy, like the pith of
rush. When the hair makes its first appearance in the
summer, it forms a smooth coat, and has the ordinary
flexibility and appearance of hair; but as it lengthens it
acquires the brittle, spongy texture, at its roots, and in-
ereasing at the same time in diameter, it becomes ercct,

RURAL SPORTS. 51

and forms a very close coat. As the spring approaches
the fine and flexible points are rubbed off, particularly on
the sides, where the hair appears as if it had been clipped:
The mane on the hind-head and neck retains its darker
points, even when the winter coat is dropping off. The
nose, cheeks, part of the lower jaw, ears, and legs, are
clothed at all times with short flexible hairs, which lie
smoothly.

“The females are stated, by some American writers,
to have horns like the males, although smaller; but in
gravid, and, therefore, at least nearly full-grown indivi-
duals, which I have examined, there was merely a short,
obtuse process, of the frontal bone, scarcely to be felt
through the fur, and not covered with horn.

‘The young, at birth, are covered on the upper parts
with short hair of a clove-brown colour, more or less
hoary. The situation of the mane is marked by a dark
line. The tail is yellowish-brown, and the buttocks are
pure white. The dark mark on the nose, the one behind
the angle of the jaw, and the bands across the throat,
exist as in the adult. The legs are of a pure wood-
brown colour.

DIMENSIONS.
Feet. Inches.

Length from the nose to the root of the tail, - 4 4
Height at the fore shoulder, - 5 - 5 C 3 0

GB « haunches, - = © ° 5 3 0
Girth behind the four legs, - = 2 5 S 3 0

“before the hind legs, = S 5 2 2 10
Length of the tail, with the hair, - - eS o 0 44

MIGRATION OF MAMMIFEROUS QUADRUPEDS.

ALTHOUGH in speculating on ‘philosophical possibili-
ties,”” said Buffon, the same temperature might have heen
expected, all other circumstances being equal, to produce
the same beings in different parts of the globe, both in the
animal and vegetable kingdoms, yet it is an undoubted
fact, that when America was discovered, its indigenous
quadrupeds were all dissimilar from those previously
known in the old world. The elephant, the rhinoceros,
the hippopotamus, the cameleopard, the camel, the drome-
dary, the buffalo, the horse, the ass, the lion, the tiger,
the apes, the baboons, and a number of other mammalia,
were nowhere to be met with on the new continent; while
in the old, the American species, of the same great class,
were nowhere to be seen—the tapir, the lama, the pecari,
the jaguar, the couguar, the agouti, the paca, the coati, and
the sloth.

52 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

These phenomena, although few in number relatively to
the whole animate creation, were so striking and so posi-
tive in their nature, that the French naturalist caught
sight at once ofa general law in the geographical distribu-
tion of organic beings, namely, the limitation of groups of
distinct species to regions separated from the rest of the
globe by certain natural barriers. It was, therefore, in a
truly philosophical spirit, that relying on the clearness of
the evidence obtained respecting the larger quadrupeds,
he ventured to call in question the identifications announced
by some contemporary naturalists, of species of animals
said to be common to the southern extremities of Ame-
rica and Africa.

The migration of quadrupeds from one part of the globe
to the other, observes one of our ablest writers, is prevent-
ed by uncongenial climates, and the branchesof the ocean
which intersect continents. ‘‘ Hence, by a reference to
the geographical site of countries, we may divide the earth
into a certain number of regions fitted to become the abodes
of particular groups of animals, and we shall find, on in-
quiry, that each of these provinces, thus conjecturally
marked out, is actually inhabited by a distinct nation of
quadrupeds.””

Where the continents of the old and new world approxi-
mate to each other towards the north, the narrow straits
which separate them are frozen over in winter, and the
distance is further lessened by intervening islands. Thus
a passage from one continent to another becomes practica-
ble to such quadrupeds as are fitted to endure the intense
cold of the arctic circle. Accordingly, the whole arctic
region has become one of the provinces of the animal king-
dom, and contains many species common to both the great
continents. Butthe temperate regions of America, which
are separated by a wide extent of ocean from those of
Europe and Asia, contain each a distinct nation of indige-
nous quadrupeds. There are three groups of ¢ropical
mammalia, belonging severally to America, Africa, and
continental India, each inhabiting lands separated from
each other by the ocean. :

In Peru and Chili, says Humboldt, the region of the
grasses, which is at an elevation of from twelve thousand
three hundred to fifteen thousand four hundred feet, is in-
habited by crowds of lama, guanaco, and alpaca. These
quadrupeds, which here represent the genus camel of the
ancient continent, have nct extended themselves either to
Brazil or Mexico, because, during their journey, they

“must necessarily have descended into regions that were too
hot for them.

New Holland is well known to contain a most singular
and characteristic assemblage of mammiferous animals, con-
sisting of more than forty species of the marsupial family,

of which no congeners even occur elsewhere, with the
exception of a few American opossums. ‘This exclusive
occupation of the Australian continent by the kangaroos
and other tribes of pouched animals, although it has justly
excited great attention, is a fact, nevertheless, in strict
accordance with the general laws of the distribution of
species; since, in other parts of the globe, we find pecu-
liarities of form, structure, and habit, in birds, reptiles,
insects, or plants, confined entirely to one hemisphere, or
one continent, and sometimes to much narrower limits.

The southern region of Africa, where that continent
extends into the temperate zone, constitutes another sepa-
rate zoological province, surrounded as it is on three sides
by the ocean, and cut off from the countries of milder
climate, in the northern hemisphere, by the intervening
torrid zone. In many instances, this region contains the
same genera which are found in temperate climates to the
northward of the line; but then the southern are different
from the northern species. Thus in the south we find the
quagga and the zebra; in the north, the horse, the ass, and
the jiggetai of Asia.

The south of Africa is spread out into fine level plains
from the tropic to the Cape; in this region, says Pennant,
besides the horse genus, of which five species haye been
found, there are also peculiar species of rhinoceros, the
hog, and the hyrax, among pachydermatous races; and
amongst the ruminating the giraffe, the Cape buffalo, and
a variety of remarkable antelopes, as the springbok, the
oryx, the gnou, the leucophoé, the pygarga, and several
others.

The Indian archipelago presents peculiar phenomena in
regard to its indigenous mammalia, which, in their gene-
ric character, recede in some respects from that of the
animals of the Indian continent, and approximate to the
African. The Sundaisles contain a hippopotamus, which
is wanting in the rivers of Asia; Sumatra, a peculiar spe-
cies of tapir, and a rhinoceros resembling the African
more than the Indian species, but specifically distinguish-
able from both.

Beyond the Indian archipelago, is an extensive region,
including New Guinea, New Britain, and New Ireland,
together with the archipelago of Solomon’s Islands, the
New Hebrides, and Louisiade, and the more remote
groups of isles in the great southern ocean, which may be
considered as forming one zoological province. Although
these remarkable countries are extremely fertile in their
vegetable productions, they are almost wholly destitute of
native warm-blooded quadrupeds, except a few species of
bats, and some domesticated animals in the possession of
the natives.

Quadrupeds found on islands situated near the conti-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

nents, generally form a part of the stock of animals be-
longing to the adjacent main land; ‘¢but small islands re-
mote from continents are in general altogether destitute of
land quadrupeds, except such as appear to have been
conveyed to them by men. Kerguelen’s Land, Juan Fer-
nandez, the Gallapagos, and the Isles de Lobos, are exam-
ples of this fact. Among all the groups of fertile islands
in the Pacific Ocean, no quadrupeds have been found, ex-
cept dogs, hogs, rats, and a few bats. The bats have been
found in New Zealand and the more westerly groups; they
may probably have made their way along the chain of
islands which extend from the shores of New Guinea
far into the southern Pacific. The hogs and the dogs
appear to have been conveyed by the natives from
New Guinea. The Indian Isles, near New Guinea, abound
in oxen, buffaloes, goats, deer, hogs, dogs, cats, and rats;
but none of them are said to have reached New Guinea,
except the hog and the dog. The New Guinea hog is of
the Chinese variety, and was probably brought from some
of the neighbouring isles, being the animal most in request
among savages. Ithasrun wildin New Guinea. Thence
it has been conveyed to the New Hebrides, the Tonga
and Society Isles, and to the Marquesas; but it is still
wanting in the more eastern islands, and, to the southward,
in New Caledonia.

<¢Dogs may be traced from New Guinea to the New
Hebrides and Fijii Isles; but they are wanting in the
Tonga Isles, though found among the Society and Sand-
wich islanders, by some of whom they are used for food:
to the southward they have been conveyed to New Cale-
donia and New Zealand. In Easter Island, the most
remotely situated in this ocean, there are no domestic ani-
mals except fowls and rats, which are eaten by the natives:
these animals are found in most of the islands; the fowls
are probably ‘from New Guinea. Rats are to be found
even on some desert islands, whither they may have been
conveyed by canoes which have occasionally approached
the shores. It is known, also, that rats occasionally. swim
in large numbers to considerable distances.

It is natural to suppose that the geographical range of
the different species of cetacea should be less correctly
ascertained than that of the terrestrial mammifers. It is,
however, well known, that the whales which are obtained
by our fishers in the South Seas, are distinct from those of
the North; and the same dissimilarity has been found in all
the other marine animals of the same class, so far as they
have yet been studied by naturalists.

Let us now inquire what facilities the various land quad-
rupeds enjoy of spreading themselves over the surface of
the earth. In the first place, as their numbers multiply,
all of them, whether they feed on plants, or prey on other

O

53

animals, are disposed to scatter themselves gradually over
as wide an area as is accessible tothem. But before they
have extended their migrations over a large space, they
are usually arrested, either by the sea, or a zone of uncon-
genial climate, or some lofty and unbroken chain of moun-
tains, or a tract already occupied by a hostile and more
powerful species.

Rivers and narrow friths can seldom interfere with their
progress, for the greater part of them swim well, and few
are without this power when urged by danger and press-
ing want. Thus, amongst beasts of prey, the tiger is seen
swimming about among the islands and creeksin the delta
of the Ganges, and the jaguar traverses with ease the
largest streams in South America. The bear, also, and the
bison, stem the current of the Mississippi. The popular
error, that the common swine cannot escape by swimming
when thrown into the water, has been contradicted by
several curious and well-authenticated instances during the
recent floods inScotland. One pig, only six months old,
after having been carried down from Garmouth to the bar
at the mouth of the Spey, a distance of a quarter of a mile,
swam four miles eastward to Port Gordon, and landed
safe. Three others, of the same age and litter, swam at
the same time five miles to the west, and landed at Black-
hill.

In an adult and wild state, these animals would doubtless
have been more strong and active, and might, when hard
pressed, have performed a much longer voyage. Hence,
islands remote from the continent may obtain inhabitants
by casualties which, like the late storms in Morayshire,
may only occur once in many centuries, or thousands of
years, under all the same circumstances. Itis obvious that
powerful tides, winds, and currents, may sometimes carry
along quadrupeds capable, in like manner, of preserving
themselves for hours in the sea to very considerable dis-
tances, and in this way, perhaps, the tapir, ( Zapir Indicus,)
may have become common to Sumatra and the Malayan
peninsula.

To the elephant in particular, the power of crossing
rivers is essential in a wild state, for the quantity of food
which a herd of these animals consumes renders it neces-
sary that they should be constantly moving from place to
place. The elephant crosses the stream in two ways. If
the bed of the river be hard, and the water not of too
great a depth, he fords it. But when he crosses great
rivers, such as the Ganges and the Niger, the elephant
swims deep, so deep that the end of his trunk only is out of
the water; for it is a matter of indifference to him, whether
his body be completely immersed, provided he can bring
the tip of his trunk to the surface, so as to breathe the
external air.

54

Animals of the deer kind frequently take to the water,
especially in the rutting season, when the stags are seen
swimming for several leagues at a time, from island to
island, in search of the does, especially in the Canadian
lakes; and in some countries where there are islands near
the sea-shore, they fearlessly enter the sea, and swim to
them. In hunting excursions, in North America, the elk
of that country is frequently pursued for great distances
through the water.

The large herbiverous animals, which are gregarious, can
never remain long in a confined region, as they consume
so much vegetable food. The immense herds of bisons
which often, in the great valley of the Mississippi, blacken
the surface near the banks of that river and its tributaries,
are continually shifting their quarters, followed by wolves
which prowl about in their rear. ‘It is no exaggéra-
tion,’’ says Mr. James, “to assert, that in one place, on
the banks of the Platte, at least ten thousand bisons burst
on our sight in an instant. In the morning, we again
sought the living picture, but upon all the plain, which last
evening was so teeming with noble animals, not one re-
mained.”’

Besides the disposition common to the individuals of
every species slowly to extend their range in search of
food, in proportion as their numbers augment, a migratory
instinct often developes itself in an extraordinary manner,
when, after an unusually prolific season, or upon a sudden
scarcity of provisions, great multitudes are threatened by
famine. We shall enumerate several illustrations of these
migrations, because they may put us upon our guard
against attributing a high antiquity to a particular species,
merely because it is diffused over a great space; they
show clearly how soon, in a state of nature, a newly-created
species might spread itself, in every direction, from a sin-
gle point.

In very severe winters, great numbers of the black
bears of America migrate from Canada into the United
States; but in milder seasons, when they have been well
fed, they remain and hybernate in the north. ‘The rein-
deer, which in Scandinavia can scarcely exist to the south
of the sixty-fifth parallel, descends, in consequence of the
greater coldness of the climate, to the fiftieth degree, in
Chinese Tartary, and often roves into a country of more
southern latitude than any part of England.

In Lapland, and other high latitudes, the common
squirrels, whenever they are compelled, by want of provi-
sions, to quit their usual abodes, migrate in amazing num-
bers, and travel directly forwards, allowing neither rocks,
forests, nor the broadest waters, to turn them from their
course. Great numbers are often drowned in attempting

to pass friths and rivers. In like manner, the small Nor-

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

way rat sometimes pursues its migrations in a straight line
across rivers and lakes; and Pennant informs us, that
when, in Kamtschatka, the rats become too numerous, they
gather together in the spring, and proceed in great bodies
westward, swimming over rivers, lakes, and arms of the
sea. Many are drowned or destroyed by water-fowl or
fish. As soon as they have crossed the river Penchim, at
the head of the gulf of the same name, they turn south-
ward, and reach the rivers Judoma and Ochot by the mid-
dle of July, a district surprisingly distant from their point
of departure.

The lemings, also of Scandinavia, often pour down in
myriads from the northern mountains, and devastate the
country. They generally move in lines which are about
three feet from each other, and exactly parallel, and they
direct their march from the north-west to the south-east,
going directly forward through rivers and lakes, and when
they meet with stacks of hay or corn, gnawing their way
through them instead of passing round.

Vast troops of the wild ass, or onager of the ancients,
which inhabit the mountainous deserts of Great Tartary,
feed, during the summer, in the tracts east and north of
Lake Aral. In the autumn they collect in herds of hun-
dreds and even thousands, and direct their course towards
the north of India, and often to Persia, to enjoy a warm re-
treat during winter. Bands cf two or three hundred quag-
gas, a species of wild ass, are sometimes seen to migrate
from the tropical plains of southern Africa to the vicinity
of the Malaleveen river. During their migrations they
are followed by lions, who slaughter them night by
night.

The migratory swarms of the springbok, or Cape ante-
lope, afford another illustration of the rapidity with which
a species, under certain circumstances, may be diffused
over acontinent. When the stagnant pools of the immense
deserts south of the Orange river dry up, which often hap-
pens after intervals of three or four years, myriads of
these animals desert the parched soil, and pour down like
a deluge on the cultivated regions nearer the Cape. The
havoe committed by them resembles that of the African
locusts; and so crowded are the herds, that ‘the lion has
been seen to walk in the midst of the compressed pha-
lanx with only as much room between him and his victims
as the fears of those immediately around could procure by
pressing outwards.”

Dr. Horsfield mentions a singular fact in regard to the
geographical distribution of the Mydaus meliceps, a kind
of polecatinhabiting Java. This animal is confined exeln-
sively to those mountains which have an elevation of more
than seven thousand feet above the level of the ocean:
on these it occurs with the same regularity as many

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 55

plants. The long-extended surface of Java, abounding
with conical points which exceed this elevation, affords
many places,favourable for its resort. On ascending these
mountains, the traveller scarcely fails to meet with this
animal, which, from its peculiarities, is universally known
to the inhabitants of these elevated tracts, while to those
of the plains it is as strange as an animal from a foreign
country. In my visits to the mountainous districts, I
uniformly met with it, and, as far as the information of
the natives can be relied on, it is found on all the moun-
tains.””

Now, if we were asked to conjecture how the Mydaus
arrived at the elevated regions of each of these isolated
mountains, we should say that before the isle was peopled
by man, by whom their numbers are now thinned, they
may occasionally have multiplied so as to be forced to. col-
lect together and migrate; in which case, notwithstanding
the slowness of their motions, some few would succeed in
reaching another mountain, some twenty, or even, per-
haps, fifty miles distant: for although the climate of the
hot intervening plains would be unfavourable to them,
they might support it for a time, and would find there
abundance of insects on which they feed. Volcanic erup-
tions, which at different times have covered the summits
of some of these lofty cones with sterile sand and ashes, may
have occasionally contributed to force on these migrations.

? [Lyell’s Geology.

CAVE OF GUACHARO, NEAR CUMANA.

Tux greatest curiosity in this beautiful and salubrious
district is a cavern inhabited by nocturnal birds, the fat
of which is employed in the missions for dressing food. It
is named the Cave of Guacharo, and is situated in a valley
three leagues distant from the convent.

On the 18th of September our travellers, accompanied
by most of the monks and some of the Indians, set out for
this aviary, following for an hour and a halfa narrow path,
leading across a fine plain covered. with beautiful turf;
then, turning westward along a small river which issues
from the cave, they proceeded during three-quarters of an
hour, sometimes walking in the water, sometimes on a
slippery and miry soil, between the torrent and a wall of
rocks, until they arrived at the foot of the lofty mountain
of Guacharo. Here the torrent ran in a deep ravine, and
they went on under a projecting cliff, which prevented
them from seeing the sky, until at the last turning they
came suddenly upon the immense opening of the recess,

which is eighty-five feet broad and seventy-seven feet
high. The entrance is towards the south, and is formed
in the vertical face of a rock, covered with trees of gigantic

height, intermixed with numerous species of singular and

beautiful plants, some of which hang in festoons over the
vault. This luxuriant vegetation is not confined to the
exterior of the cave, but appears even in the vestibule,
where the travellers were astonished to see heliconias nine-
teen feet in height, palms, and arborescent arums. They
had advanced about four hundred and sixty feet before it
became necessary to light their torches, when they heard
from afar the hoarse screams of the birds.

The Guacharo is the size of a domestic fowl, and has
somewhat the appearance of a vulture, with a mouth like
that of a goatsucker. It forms a distant genus in the order
Passeres, differing from that just named in having a
stronger beak, furnished with two denticulations, though
in its manners it bears an affinity to it as well as to the
alpine crow. Its plumage is dark bluish-gray, minutely
streaked and spotted with deep brown; the head, wings,
and tail being marked with white spots bordered with
black. The extent of the wings is three feet and a half.
It lives on fruits, but quits the cave only in the evening.
The shrill and piercing cries of these birds, assembled in
multitudes, are said to forma harsh and disagreeable noise,
somewhat resembling that of a rookery. The nests, which
the guides showed by means of torches fastened to a long
pole, were placed in funnel-shaped holes in the roof. The
noise increased as they advanced, the animals being fright-
ened by the numerous lights.

About midsummer every year the Indians, armed with
poles, enter the cave, and destroy the greater part of the
nests. Several thousands of young birds are thus killed,
and the old ones hover around, uttering frightful cries.
Those which are secured in this manner are opened on the
spot, to obtain the fat which exists abundantly in their
abdomen, and which is subsequently melted in clay ves-
sels over fires of brushwood. Thissubstance is semifluid,
transparent, destitute of smell, and keeps above a year
without becoming rancid. At the convent of Caripe it
was used in the kitchen of the monks, and our travellers
never found that it communicated any disagreeable smell
or taste to the food.

The Guacharoes would have been long ago destroyed,
had not the superstitious dread of the Indians prevented
them from penetrating far into the cavern. It also appears,
that birds of the same species dwell in other inaccessible
places in the neighbourhood, and that the great cave is re-
peopled by colonies from them. The hard and dry fruits
which are found in the crops and gizzards of the young
ones are considered as an excellent remedy against inter-

56 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

mittent fevers, and regularly sent to Cariaco and other
parts of the lower districts where such diseases prevail.

The travellers followed the banks of the small river
which issues from the cavern as far as the mounds of cal-
careous incrustations permitted them, and afterward de-
scended into its bed. The cave preserved the same direc-
tion, breadth, and height as at its entrance, to the dis-
tance of 1554 feet. The natives having a belief that
the souls of their ancestors inhabit its deep recesses, the
Indians who accompanied our travellers could hardly be
persuaded to venture into it. Shooting at random in the
dark, they obtained two specimens of-the Guacharo. Hay-
ing proceeded to a certain distance, they came to a mass
of stalactite, beyond which the cave became narrower,
although it retained its original direction. Here the rivu-
let had deposited a blackish mould resembling that ob-
served at Muggendorf in Franconia. The seeds which the
birds carry to their young spring up wherever they are
dropped into it; and M. Humboldt and his friend were
astonished to find blanched stalks that had attained a
height of two feet.

As the missionaries were unable to persuade the Indians
to advance farther, the party returned. Theriver, spark-
ling amid the foliage of the trees, seemed like a distant
picture, to which the mouth of the cave formed a frame.
Having sat down at the entrance to enjoy a little needful
repose, they partook of a repast which the missionaries
had prepared, and in due time returned to the convent.

[| Humbolde.

NOTES OF A NATURALIST.
BY JACOB GREEN, M. D.

PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN JEFFERSON COLLEGE.

Our Village—The Blue-bird.

Every one who rambles through our fields and woods
during the spring, summer, or autumn, must be familiar
with the plaintive song, the gentle manners, and the peace-
ful disposition of our own little Blue-bird, called by mo-
dern ornithologists the Sylvia Sialis. Some how or
other I have, from early youth, entertained an attachment
for this little songster, which all the gayer and more ex-
pert musicians of the grove, cannot rival. Though his
plumage is simple, and his warblings brief, and perhaps to
some ears monotonous, he hasalways maintained with me
the pre-eminence. I always anxiously wait for his arri-

val, and listen with delight to his first mild and oft repeated
chirpings, towards the end of February, knowing that
spring’s ‘ethereal mildness”’ is at hand. During the sum-
mer he animates the woods and hedges with his most
cheerful song, though it is frequently lost in the general cho-
rus; but, in the autumn, the meadow and the grove would
be unharmonious but for his plaintive notes. Often in the
bright sunny mornings of this variable season of our year,
when all his companions in the feathered choir have depart-
ed to milder climates, he may be noticed perched on a fence
rail, or on the branches of the leafless hedge,—then spring-
ing into the air at your approach, he pipes his final autum-
nal farewell. Nothing can be more graphic than Wilson’s
account of this interesting bird. He observes that ‘‘in
his motions and general character, he has great resem-
blance to the Robin Red-breast of Britain; like him he is
known to almost every child, and shows as much confi-
dence in man by associating with him in summer, as the
other by his familiarity in winter.” I have heard and
have been pleased with the notes of the English Robin in
his native haunts, and perhaps many would prefer them to
those of our Blue-bird; but if what is told of his insidious
and pilfering disposition be true, I cannot consent to make
him a companion of my little favourite. The author of
‘¢The Journal of a Naturalist,”’ associates the Robin,
(Motacilla rubecola,) with the Bull-finch and other plun-
derers of the English garden, in company, where, he re-
marks, it would not generally be sought; ‘‘ but sad truths
must be told of it. It might be called pugnacious, jea-
lous, selfish, quarrelsome, did I not respect ancient feelings
and long-establishedsentiments. A favourite by commisse-
ration, itseeks an asylum with us; by supplication and
importunity it becomes a partaker of our bounty in a sea-
son of severity and want,—and its seeming humbleness
and necessities obtain our pity; but it slights and forgets
our kindness the moment it can provide for itself, and is
away to its woods and its shades.’? Now, our bird is pro-
verbially peaceful in his manners, useful in his habits,
confident and familiar in his disposition, and when with
open quivering wings, he pours forth his sweetest melody,
I think, is unrivalled in his song. The Robin Red-breast of
England has furnished a theme for some of her most gifted
poets, and for many of her nursery songs. I shall never
lose the impressions made upon my youthful mind when
hearing the words and the music of the little ballad called
‘¢The Wood Robin.”? But no pastoral muse has yet
arisen in this western woody world to do justice to the
name of the Blue-bird, and to endear him still more, as
Wilson continues to remark, by the tenderness of verse.
A few lines are then offered as a tribute to our little songs-
ter, by the gifted biographer of American birds; and, as a

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 57

feeble acknowledgment ofa similar kind, I must insert the
following stanzas.

THE APPEARANCE OF THE BLUE-BIRD.

What sounds now fill the wintry air,
What music floats upon the breeze,

Whilst all the fields are bleak and bare,
And verdure breaks not from the trees ?

Oh! ’tis the bird with plumage blue,
The herald of approaching spring,
Still to his native forests true,
The echoing woods his welcome ring.

No opening violet’s perfume

Now scents for thee the chilly air,
No lone anemonies in bloom

A downy couch for thee prepare.

But yet I hail thee, beauteous bird,
For soon will come the time of flowers,
When thousand warblers will be heard,
Filling with song the budding bowers.

Say, what impelled thy venturous wings
To bear thee here from southern skies,

Where never-ceasing verdure springs,
And ever-blooming flowerets rise?

Oh, it was that same tireless arm

Which holds the sun—guides every sphere,
That Power whose influences warm

To life and light the opening year !

Yes—it was that same kindly hand,

Which marked thy path through trackless air,
And bid thee to this distant land,

Thy native home,—in haste repair !

Thrice welcome to those wonted haunts !
Endeared to thee by love and song,
Where erst I’ve listened to thy chaunts,
Speeding the gladsome hours along.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE BLUE-BIRD.

T hailed thee first among the throng
Of warblers in the feathered choir ;

Then tune for me a parting song,
And thus to milder climes retire.

Where are thy gay companions now,
That filled with music every dell?

All lonely on the leafless bough,
Thy plaintive voice proclaims farewell.

Farewell !—and haste to other lands—
Which brighter, kindlier suns illume—
Where rosy Flora’s liberal hands
Scatter around perennial bloom !

Haste, haste away !—nor linger here ;
The forest leaves are falling fast,

The frowns of Winter now appear,
And soon will come the icy blast!

No chill December knowest thou,
Thy year is filled with sun and song;
Then fare thee well, and leave me now,
For frost and storms to me belong.

But should the Spring for me, once more
Return, and breathe her rich perfume,
Revisit, then, thy native shore,
Thy plaintive song again resume.

Though the Blue-bird is occasionally seen in many of
our northern states, during the warm and sunny days
which almost always occur in our winters, the great body
of them migrate to the more genial regions of the south.
My own little experience corresponds with that of Mr.
Wilson. I have seen them in the beginning of the
autumn, passing high over head, from the north; little
groups of them descending from great altitudes, and set-
tling on the tops of the leafless trees. After pausing there
for a few minutes, as if resting from a weary journey, they
would again reascend high in the air, and speed away to-
wards the south. It seems to be proved that their winter
retreat is in Jamaica, Cuba, the Bahamas, and other neigh-
bouring regions.

The whole subject of migration is exceedingly curious
and perplexing. One can easily comprehend why some
birds should pass from a colder to a milder climate; the
greater abundance of food, and the facilities forrearing their
young, might account for it. But why our little Blue-
bird, with many other of its migratory companions,
should leave the mild regions where they have passed the
winter, where an abundant supply of insects and other
food is no doubt always to be procured, and subject them-
selves to along, fatiguing, and perilous journey to revisit
our apparently less congenial climate, I have never been
able to assign any adequate cause, except imperious in-
stinct, or rather the influence of that great Power which I
have noticed in my stanzas. One of the sacred writers has
said all that can be said on this subject:—‘‘ The stork in
the heavens knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle
and the crane, and the swallow, observe the time of their
coming.” (Jer. viii. 7.) Pope’s beautiful lines, in allusion
to the migration of the stork, deserve to be often quoted.

Who bid the stork, Columbus-like explore,
Heavens not its own, and worlds unknown before ?
Who calls the council, states the certain day,
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way ?

58
A Fossil Plant.

I have already noticed that our village stands on the
precipitous slope of a very lofty hill, at the foot of which
our sluggish creek pursues a circuitous course towards the
Ohio river. In its way, this stream fertilizes some rich
but not very extensive meadow land. A few miles to the
north-west of the town there is quite an extensive patch of
low ground, not far from the creek. One of the farmers,
a short time since, on this tract, discovered, while plough-
ing, a curious stone, carved in a very strange manner, as
he supposed, by the old Indians. Expressing a great de-
sire to see it, being at the time occupied with the Indian
antiquities of the west, he brought me, in a few days, the
carved stone. I instantly perceived that the figures upon
it were not the work of human hands, but were the im-
pressions of vegetable reliquiz. This fossil vegetable im-
pression is in sand stone, and in the beauty and regularity
of its configurations, is not very unlike some of the orna-
ments of ancient architecture. It is no doubt the remains
of a vascular cryptrogamic plant, and belongs to the genus
lepidodendron, or lycopodium. These gigantic reliques
of ancient vegetation are very abundant in the sand stone
of the valley of the Mississippi, which accompanies the
coal, and are thought by geologists to be coeyval with the
consolidation of our coal strata. I have seen a large num-
ber of these fossils, many of which were of an enormous
size. Most of these stupendous fossil stems are not circu-
lar, like our present race of plants, but are of an ovate
form, as if they had been compressed during the process
of petrifaction. How these stems are flattened by the
pressure of the superincumbent weight, I think has not yet
been satisfactorily explained. But I will not at this time
enumerate the objections which occur. Other difficulties,
with regard to settling the species, have lately been pre-
sented by Mr. Lukis, an able physiological botanist, and
which have deterred me from giving a specific name to the
fossil plant found in our neighbourhood. That gentleman
has ascertained, by a series of observations, made on the
drying and shrivelling of certain succulent plants, most
analogous to fossil species, that a great variety of patterns

or configurations may be produced, in a single individual, ©

during the process of its drying and decomposition. If,
therefore, fossil plants have undergone similar changes be-
fore or in the process of mineralization, it is evident that
the same species will often appear under different aspects.
It was before remarked by Mr. Steinhauer, speaking of the
epidermal, cortical, and ligneous appearance of the Phy-
tolithus cancellatus, that the first or epidermal configura-
tion is formed of rhombs, giving it a net-work appearance;

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

that the cortical figure differed essentially from this, and
that in its ligneous aspect the rhombs were entirely lost.

Our Springs.

Our village, and its vicinity, abounds with springs of
water. In a country where salt and coal are so frequent, a
great variety of what are called mineral springs might be
expected to exist. Itis well known that the ingredients
found in mineral waters, are commonly derived from the
soil, or owe their properties to the rocks through which
they flow; the water, by dissolving the soluble salts which
it meets with in its passage, thus frequently acquires pe-
culiar and highly important characters. There is no
spring yet discovered in our neighbourhood, which can
be distinguished for its great medical virtues. The most
remarkable is, perhaps, a copious fountain of sulphurous
water, near the bank of the creek, about half a mile west
of the town. The well from which it is procured, is exca-
vated in a shaley lime-stone rock, in ‘the strata of which
thin seams of bituminous coal are visible. The presence
of sulphuretted hydrogen is readily noticed by its odour,
as the water is pumped from the well; a few drops of the
acetate of lead also indicated the same gas. A piece of
silver was covered with a film of the sulphuret, when left
for a short time in a tumbler of the water. Iron was as-
certained to be an ingredient by the juice of the oak leaf.
With the oxalic acid, and with the nitrate of silver, I.ob-
tained but slight precipitates, and therefore conclude that
the water contains little lime, and but a trace of some mu-
riatic salt. Sulphur and iron are no doubt the principal
solid ingredients contained in this spring. It has been
thought beneficial in slight cutaneous diseases, but except
as a means of cleanliness, it probably possesses no very im-
portant properties as a discutant. Most of our religious
societies among the scattered population of the great west,
have their houses of worship in the woods, an artificial
well, or a natural spring of water being always at hand,
for the use of the people during the intervals of their pub-
lic services. The well just noticed is one of this descrip-
tion. As the mouth of it is uncovered, and the water
used but sparingly except once a week, it is commonly of
a black colour, owing no doubt to the leaves of the forest
falling into the well, and forming, with the iron, a kind of
ink, or in chemical language, a gallate of iron.

All the springs and wells in our village contain large
quantities of lime-stone, which is precipitated when the
water is boiled, the free carbonic acid which is always
present, and by which it is dissolved, being expelled by
the heat. In some neighbouring towns, where the steam

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 59

engine is used in factories, the lime-stone water is very
troublesome, for their boilers are soon clogged by masses
of the carbonate of lime precipitating in them. The tem-
perature of the well water in the village varies from 50°
to 56° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer. The coldest spring
is just under my study window; but unfortunately it is
highly charged with the lime-stone, and is thus rendered
very unpleasant to me as a drink. Persons, however,
brought up in these lime-stone regions become very fond
of the water, and even complain when they are obliged to
use a purer liquid found in other districts. It has been
thought by many, that those horrid tumors, called goztres,
which are so common among the peasantry of Switzer-
land, are occasioned by the calcareous matter in the wa-
ter which they drink. I have never seena case of this ma-
lady with us, but I have been informed that instances of it
have been noticed; particularly when the country was
first settled.

Curious Instinct of the Common Hog.—(Sus Scrofa—
Lin.)

It is customary with farmers who reside in the thinly
settled tracts of the United States, to suffer their hogs to
run at large. These animals feed upon acorns, which are
very abundant in our extensive forests, and in this situation
they often become wild and ferocious. A gentleman of
my acquaintance, while travelling some years ago, through
our unfrequented district, perceived at a little distance
before hima herd of swine, and his attention was arrested
by the agitation they exhibited. He quickly perceived a
number of young pigs in the centre of the herd, and that
the hogs were arranged about them in a conical figure, hav-
ing their heads all turned outwards. At the apex of this
singular cone, a huge boar had placed himself, who, from
his size, seemed to be the master of the herd. The travel-
ler now observed that a famished wolf was attempting by
various manceuvres to seize one of the pigs in the middle;
but wherever he made an attack, the huge boar at the apex
of the cone presented himself—the hogs dexterously ar-
ranging themselves on each side of him, so as to preserve
the position of defence just mentioned. The attention of
the traveller was for a moment withdrawn, and, upon
turning to view the combatants, he was surprised to find
the herd of swine dispersed, and the wolf no longer to be
seen. On riding up to the spot, the wolf was discovered
dead on the ground, a rent being made in his side, more
than a foot in length—the boar having, no doubt, seized a
favourable opportunity, and with a sudden plunge despatch-
ed his adversary with his formidable tusks.

It is a little remarkable that the ancient Romans, among

the various methods they devised for drawing up their
armies in battle, had one exactly resembling the position
assumed by the swine above mentioned. This mode of
attack they called the Cuneus, or Caput porcinum.

GBlue- Yellow Bird.—(Fringilla tristis.)

To those but little acquainted with Natural History,
the assertion that a white black-bird, (oriolus Pheeniceus, )
and a black swan, (Anas Atrata) are animals really in exist-
ence, appears too paradoxical for belief. Black swans,
however, are found in New-Holland and some other places,
possessing all the graceful attitudes of the European spe-
cies; and white black-birds, or albinos, are of no very
uncommon occurrence.

I have observed another anomaly among the feathered
tribes no less striking. A bird of precisely the same size,
habits, and general appearance as our common Yellow-
bird, (Fringilla tristis,) associating with it, and differing
only in colour; this bird was of a dark indigo in the places
where the male (F. tristis) is yellow; the black bands on
the wings, and the spot on the head, were the same in
both.

The following hints are offered by way of theory to ex-
plain these anomalies: —

If there be any truth in the opinion entertained by
many, that the imagination of the parent, or that cer-
tain casualties during gestation, have an influence on the
offspring of the class Mamalia—why may not the like
circumstances affect the embryo in the egg of birds? Again,
we know that when the eye becomes fatigued with be-
holding the glare of one colour, it is relieved by changing
the colour; or if a colour be viewed for some time, the
opposite will be painted on the retina. Thus when we
look on the bright light thrown by a burning-glass on any
object, a black spot is produced in the eye; and if we look
steadfastly on a black spot made with ink ona white sheet
of paper, on moving the eye a little, a luminous spot will
be seen on the paper, much brighter than the surrounding
part.* Will not these two particulars, taken together, ac-
count for the above anomalies ?

The causes which have produced the varieties in the
human species, are but little understood. Too much is
perhaps attributed to the influence of climate. There are
many reasons to satisfy an unprejudiced mind, besides the
unerring testimony of the Bible, that the whole race of
man has sprung from one and the same stock. The five
principal varieties mentioned by Blumenbach, the Cauca-

* If we gaze long upon a bright yellow spot, a blue colour will be painted
on the retina. Many curious particulars on this subject may be found in
the first volume of Darwin’s Zoonomia.

60 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

sian, Mongolian, Ethiopian, American, and Malayan, may
all have arisen from some such accidental causes as those
noticed above, or such as occasion the albinos of our
species. That species can be continued from such
accidental varieties, appears from the following ac-
count published in Edwards’ Gleanings of Natural
History, and in the 424th No. of the Philosophical
Transactions. HWdward Lambert, or the Porcupine man,
was at his birth like other children; but in eight or
nine weeks his skin turned yellow, and then blackish, co-
vered with conical protuberances, which formed a rugged
covering all over him, except his head, palms, and the soles
of his feet. This man had six children, whose skin exactly
resembled his own. Edwards then remarks—‘ It appears
to me beyond all doubt, that a race of people may be pro-
pagated by this man, having such rugged coats or cover-
ing as himself, which if it should ever happen, and the acci-
dental original be forgotten, it is not improbable they may
be deemed a different species of mankind; which consider-
ation should almost lead one to imagine, that if mankind
were all produced from one and the same stock, the black
skins of the Ethiopians, &c. might possibly be owing origi-
nally to some such accidental cause.’””—See Edwards’
Plate 212.

WILLOW OAK.
QUERCUS PHELLOS.

[Plate VI. Vol. 3.]
[A Branch, with leaves and acorns of the natural size.]

Tus species, which is very remarkable for its foliage,
begins to appear as you go from the north southward, in
the environs of Philadelphia; but it is not so multiplied,
and does not attain the same degree of expansion there,
as in the more southern states, Virginia, the two Caroli-
nas, and Georgia, where the temperature, less cold in
winter, appears evidently to have a favourable influence
on its vegetation. It is, however, only in the maritime
part of the middle and southern states, that the Willow
Oak is observed; it seems to be unknown in the interior
of those very states, where the land is hilly, and the tem-
peraturecolder. It is most probably to be found in lower
Louisiana, which, for the climate and nature of its soil,
very much resembles the lower part of the southern states
which I have just mentioned. I did not remark it beyond
the Allegheny Mountains, in the states of Kentucky and
Tennessee. ;

The Willow Oak commonly grows in very moist, and
even wet soils, and united with the tupelo, the small mag-
nolia, the red flowering maple, the red bay, and the water
oak, it borders the numerous swamps which exist in the
maritime parts of the southern states. In these situations,
which, as I have said, are such as suit it best, it rises to
the height of fifty or sixty feet, with a diameter of twenty
or twenty-four inches. The trunk, even in the old trees,
is covered with a smooth bark, of which the cellular tex-
ture is very thick. The leaves are from two to three
inches long, of a light green, smooth, narrow, entire, and
resemble those of the willow, for which reason it is called
the Willow Oak, the only name given to it throughout all
the parts of North America in which it grows. ‘

Ihave just said that the Willow Oak is rarely met with
but in very humid situations. This assertion admits of
exceptions. In fact, from some cause difficult to assign, it
is sometimes found near the sea, amid live oaks, in very
dry and sandy soils. It then, seen from afar, has all the
appearance of the latter species, both with respect to its
form and its foliage, which remains green several years
together; but, on closer examination, it is soon distin-
guished by its leaves, which are shorter and much nar-
rower, as well as by the texture of its timber, which is
very porous.

The acorns of the Willow Oak, seldom abundant, are
small, rather round, of a dark brown, and very bitter.
The cups are shallow, and somewhat scaly. When kept
in a cool place, they preserve their germinating faculty
several months without shooting.

The timber of the Willow Oak is reddish, the grain
coarse, and the pores are very open; for which reason the
staves made of this wood cannot serve for barrels or pipes,
destined to contain spirituous liquors, or even wine; the
staves made of it, are therefore ranked with those made of
red oak, and used for the same purposes. The quantity
made of itis, however, very inconsiderable; for this tree,
confined to certain local situations, is very little multiplied
compared to many others; and I will even venture to say,
that the whole of what exists of it in the United States,
would not be sufficient, if used alone, to supply the de-
mand of the country, and those of trade, during the
course of two years. In some parts of lower Virginia,
and particularly in the county of York, experience seems
to have proved that the wood of the Willow Oak pos-
sesses great strength and tenacity, and that it is less apt to
split than that of the white oak; and it is on account of this
property, that after being dried, it is used for making fel-
loes for cart and chair wheels. This use, and that before
mentioned, are the only ones to which I have found this
wood adapted; nor do I think it so fit for them as choice

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AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 61

pieces of post oak, or white ash. Yet I have seen the fields
of several habitations, in the environs of Augusta, in Geor-
gia, of which the fences were, in part, made of Willow
Oak; but they last, at most, eight or nine years, while
those made of chesnut white oak last fourteen or fifteen.
The Willow Oak yields but very indifferent fire-wood;
and, when felled for this purpose, is always ranked with
what is sold at the lowest price.

From the foregoing remarks, it may be considered, that
this tree, with respect to the advantages which arts and
trade can derive from it, cannot much interest Europeans,
nor even the inhabitants of the United States, who, in clear-
ing their lands, ought not to take any care for its preser-
vation.— Michaux.

CHESNUT-SIDED WARBLER.
SYLVIA PENNSYLVANICA.

[Plate VI. Vol. 3.]

Linn. Syst. 8333.—Red-throated Flycatcher, How. 301.—
Bloody-side Warbler, Turton, Syst. 1. p. 596.—La
jiguier a poitrine rouge, Burr. v. 308.—Briss. App.
405.—Larn. 11. 490.— rect. Zool. p. 405. No, 298.—
Motacilla icterocephala, Linn. Syst. 1. p. 325.—GMxEt.
Syst. 1. p. 980.—Sylvia icterocephala, Laru. Ind. Orn.
u. p. 538.—Vieit. Ois. de lm. Sept. pl. 90.— Sylvia
Pennsylvanica, Guru. Syst. 1. p. 971.—Lara. Ind.
Orn. 11. p. 540.—Ficedula Canadensis icterocephalas,
Briss. 1. p. 517, 64, ¢. 27, f. 2.—Id. 8vo. 1. p. 451.—
Ficedula Pennsylvanica icterocephalas, Briss. App. p.
105.—Jd. 8vo. 1. p. 458, 78.—Collection of L. J. Sa-
LargNac, Hsq.

Or this bird I can give but little account. It is one of
those transient visitors that pass through Pennsylvania in
April and May, on their way farther north to breed.
During its stay here, which seldom exceeds a week or ten
days, it appears actively engaged among the opening buds
and young leaves, in search of insects; has no song but a
feeble chirp or twitter, and is notnumerous. Asit leaves
us early in May, it probably breeds in Canada, or perhaps
some parts of New-England, though I have no certain
knowledge of the fact. In a whole day’s excursion, it is
rare to meet with more than one or two of these birds,
though a thousand individuals of some species may be seen

Q

in the same time. Perhaps they may be more numerous
in some other parts of the continent.

The length of this species is five inches, the extent
seven and three quarters. The front, line over the eye,
and ear feathers, are pure white; upper part of the head
brilliant yellow; the lores, and space immediately below,
is marked with a triangular patch of black; the back, and
hind head, is streaked with gray, dusky, black, and dull
yellow; wings black, primaries edged with pale blue, the
first and second row of coverts broadly tipt with pale yel-
low, secondaries broadly edged with the same; tail black,
exteriorly edged with ash, the inner webs of the three ex-
terior feathers with each a spot of white; from the extre-
mity of the black at the lower mandible on each side, a
streak of deep reddish chesnut descends along the sides of
the neck, and under the wings to the root of the tail; the
rest of the lower parts are pure white; legs and feet ash;
bill black; irides hazel. The female has the hind head
much lighter, and the chesnut on the sides is considera-
bly narrower and not of so deep a tint.

Turton, and some other writers, have bestowed on this
little bird the singular epithet of bloody-sided, for which I
was at a loss to know the reason, the colour of that part
being a plain chesnut; till on examining Mr. Edwards's
coloured figure of this bird in the public library of this
city, I found its side tinged with a brilliant blood colour.
Hence, I suppose, originated the name!—Wizson.

BALTIMORE ORIOLE.
ICTERUS BALTIMORUS.
[Plate VI. Vol. 3.]

Linn. Syst. 1. p. 162, 10.—Jcterus minor, Briss. 31. p.
109, pl. 12., fig. 1—Le Baltimore, Burr. m. p. 231.
Pl. Enl. 506, fig. 1.— Baltimore Bird, Caress. Car.
1, 48.—£rct. Zool. 11. p. 142.—Laru. Syn. 1. p. 432,
19, Bartram, p. 290.—Collection of L. J. Sanarenac,
Esq.

Tuts is a bird of passage, arriving in Pennsylvania,
from the south, about the beginning of May, and departing
towards the latter end of August, or beginning of Septem-
ber. From the singularity of its colours, the construction
of its nest, and its preferring the apple-trees, weeping-
willows, walnut and tulip-trees, adjoining the farm-house,
to build on, it is generally known, and, as usual, honored
with a variety of names, such as Hang-nest, Hanging-bird,
Golden Robin, Fire-bird, (from the bright orange seen

62

through the green leaves, resembling a flash of fire,) &e.
but more generally the Baltimore-bird, so named, as
Catesby informs us, from its colours, which are black and
orange, being those of the arms or livery of Lord Balti-
more, formerly proprietary of Maryland.

The Baltimore Oriole is seven inches in length; bill
almost straight, strong, tapering to a sharp point, black,
and sometimes lead coloured above, the lower mandible
light blue towards the base. Head, throat, upper part of
the back and wings, black; lower part of the back, rump,
and whole under parts, a bright orange, deepening into
vermillion on the breast; the black on the shoulders is also
divided by a band of orange; exterior edges of the greater
wing-coverts, as well as the edges of the secondaries, and
part of those of the primaries, white; the tail feathers, un-
der the coverts, orange; the two middle ones thence to
the tips are black, the next five, on each side, black near
the coverts, and orange toward the extremities, so disposed,
that when the tail is expanded, and the coverts removed,
the black appears in the form of a pyramid, supported on
an arch of orange, tail slightly forked, the exterior feather
on each side a quarter of an inch shorter than the others;
legs and feet light blue or lead colour; iris of the eye,
hazel.

The female has the head, throat, upper part of the neck
and back, of a dull black, each feather being skirted with
olive yellow, lower part of the back, rump, upper tail-
coverts, and whole lower parts, orange yellow, but much
duller than that of the male; the whole wing feathers are
of a deep dirty brown, except the quills, which are exte-
riorly edged, and the greater wing-coverts, and next supe-
rior row, which are broadly tipt, with a dull yellowish
white; tail olive yellow; in some specimens the two mid-
dle feathers have been found partly black, in others wholly
so; the black on the throat does not descend so far as in
the male, is of a lighter tinge, and more irregular; hill,
legs, and claws, light blue.

Buffon, and Latham, have both described the male of
the bastard Baltimore, (Orzolus spurtus,) as the female
Baltimore. Pennant has committed the same mistake; and
all the ornithologists of Europe, with whose works I am
acquainted, who have undertaken to figure and describe
these birds, have mistaken the proper males and females,
and confounded the two species together in a very con-
fused and extraordinary manner, for which indeed we
ought te pardon them, on account of their distance from
the native residence of these birds, and the strange altera-
tions of colour which the latter are subject to.

Almost the whole genus of Orioles belong to America,
and with a few exceptions build pensile nests. Few of
them, however, equal the Baltimore in the construction of

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

these receptacles for their young, and in giving them, in
such a superior degree, convenience, warmth, and secu-
rity. For these purposes he generally fixes on the high
bending extremities of the branches, fastening strong
strings of hemp or flax round two forked twigs, dorrespond-
ing to the intended width of the nest; with the same ma-
terials, mixed with quantities of loose tow, he interweaves
or fabricates a strong firm kind of cloth, not unlike the
substance of a hat in its raw state, forming it into a pouch
of six or seven inches in’ depth, lining it substantially with
various soft substances, well interwoven with the outward
netting, and lastly, finishes with a layer of horse hair; the
whole being shaded from the sun and rain by a natu-
ral pent-house, or canopy of leaves. As to a hole being
left in the side for the young to be fed, and void their ex-
crements through, as Pennant and others relate, it is cer-
tainly an error: I have never met with any thing of the
kind in the nest of the Baltimore.

Though birds of the same species have, generally speak-
ing, a common form of building, yet, contrary.to the
usually received opinion, they do not build exactly in the
same manner. As much difference will be found in the
style, neatness, and finishing of the nests of the Baltimores,
as in their voices. Some appear far superior workmen ta
others; and probably age may improve them in this as it
does in their colours. I havea number of their nests now
before me, all completed, and with eggs. One of these,
the neatest, isin the form of a cylinder, of five inches
diameter, and seven inches in depth, rounded at bottom.
The opening at top is narrowed, by a horizontal covering,
to two inches and a half in diameter. The materials are
flax, hemp, tow, hair, and wool, woven into a complete
cloth; the whole tightly sewed through and through
with long horse hairs, several of which measure two
feet in length. The bottom is composed of thick tufts of
cow hair, sewed also with strong horse hair. This nest
was hung on the extremity of the horizontal branch of an
apple-tree, fronting the south-east; was visible one hundred
yards off, though shaded by the sun; and was the work of
a very beautiful and perfect bird.. The eggs are five, white,
slightly tinged with flesh colour, marked on the greater
end with purple dots, and on the other parts with long
hair-like lines, intersecting each other in a variety of di-
rections. I am thus minute in these particulars, from a
wish to point out the specific difference between the true
and bastard Baltimore, which Dr. Latham and some others
suspect to be only the same bird in different stages of
colour.

So solicitous is the Baltimore to procure proper mate-
rials for his nest, that, in the season of building, the women
in the country are under the necessity of narrowly watch-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 63

ing their thread that may chance to be out bleaching, and
the farmer to secure his young grafts; as the Baltimore,
finding the former, and the strings which tie the latter, so
well adapted for his purpose, frequently carries off both; or
should the one be too heavy, and the other too firmly tied,
he will tug at them a considerable time before he gives up
the attempt. Skeins of silk, and hanks of thread, have
been often found, after the leaves were fallen, hanging
round the Baltimore’s nest; but so woven up, and entan-
gled, as to be entirely irreclaimable. Before the intro-
duction of Europeans, no such material could have been
obtained here; but with the sagacity of a good architect,
he has improved this circumstance to his advantage; and
the strongest and best materials are uniformly found in
those parts by which the whole is supported.

Their principal food consists of caterpillars, beetles, and
bugs, particularly one of a brilliant glossy green, frag-
ments of which I have almost always found in their sto-
mach, and sometime these only. ~

The song of the Baltimore is a clear mellow whistle, re-
peated at short intervalsas he gleams among the branches.
There is in it a certain wild plaintiveness and naiveté, ex-
tremely interesting. It isnot uttered with the rapidity of
the ferruginous thrush, ( Zurdus rufus,) and some other
eminent songsters; but with the pleasing tranquillity of a
careless plough-boy, whistling merely for his own amuse-
ment. When alarmed by an approach to his nest, or any
such circumstances, he makes a kind of rapid chirruping,
very different from his usual note. This, however, is
always succeeded by those mellow tones, which seem so
congenial to his nature.

High on yon poplar clad in glossiest green,

The orange, black-capp’d Baltimore is seen,

The broad extended boughs still please him best ;
Beneath their bending skirts he hangs his nest;
There his sweet mate, secure from every harm,
Broods o’er her spotted store, and wraps them warm ;
Lists to the noontide hum of busy bees,

Her partner’s mellow song, the brook, the breeze ;
These, day by day, the lonely hours deceive,

From dewy morn to slow descending eve.

Two weeks elaps’d, behold a helpless crew !

Claim all her care and her affection too;

On wings of love th’ assiduous nurses fly,

Flowers, leaves, and boughs, abundant food supply ;
Glad chants their guardian as abroad he goes,

And waving breezes rock them to repose.

The Baltimore inhabits North America, from Canada to
Mexico, and is even found as far south as Brazil. Since
the streets of our cities have been planted with that beau-
tiful and stately tree, the Lombardy poplar, these birds
are our constant visiters during the early part of summer;

and amid the noise and tumult of coaches, drays, wheel-
barrows, and the din of the multitude, they are heard
chanting ‘their native wood notes wild;’? sometimes too
within a few yards of an oysterman, who stands bellow-
ing with the lungs of a Stentor, under the shade of the
same tree; so much will habit reconcile even birds to the
roar of the city, and to sounds and noises, that in other cir-
cumstances, would put a whole grove of them to flight.

These birds are several years in receiving their com-
plete plumage. Sometimes the whole tail of a male indi-
vidual, in spring, is yellow, sometimes only the two mid-
dle feathers are black, and frequently the black on the
back is skirted with orange, and the tail tipt with the same
colour. Three years, I have reason to believe, are neces-
sary to fix the full tint of the plumage, and then the male
bird appears as already described.

The males generally arrive several days before the fe-
males, saunter about their wonted places of residence, and
seem lonely and less sprightly than after the arrival of
their mates. In the spring and summer of 1811, a Balti-
more took up its abode in Mr. Bartram’s garden, whose
notes were so singular as particularly to attract my atten-
tion; they were as well known to me as the voice of my
most intimate friend. On the thirtieth of Avpril, 1812, I
was again surprised and pleased at hearing this same Bal-
timore in the garden, whistling his identical old chant;
and I observed that he particularly frequented that quar-
ter of the garden where the tree stood, on the pendant
branches of which he had formed his nest the preceding
year. This nest had been taken possession of by the
House Wren, a few days after the Baltimore’s brood had
abandoned it; and curious to know how the little intruder
had furnished it within, I had takén it down early in the
fall, after the Wren herself had also raised a brood of six
young in it, and which was her second that season. I
found it stript of its original lining, floored with sticks, or
small twigs, above which were laid feathers; so that the
usual complete nest of the Wren occupied the interior of
that of the Baltimore.

The chief difference between the male and female Balti-
more Oriole, is the superior brightness of the orange co-
lour of the former to that of the latter. The black on the
head, upper part of the back and throat, of the female, is
intermixed with dull orange; whereas, in the male, those
parts are of a deep shining black; the tail of the female also
wants the greater part of the black, and the whole lower
parts are of a much duskier orange. ‘

I have observed that these birds are rarely seen in
pine woods, or where these trees generally prevail. On
the ridges of our high mountains, they are also seldom to

64

be met with. In orchards, and on well cultivated farms,
they are most numerous, generally preferring such places
to build in, rather than the woods or forest.—J6.

EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF AN ORNITHOLOGIST
DURING A SOUTHERN TOUR.

(Concluded from p. 284, Vol. II.)

Ar Savannah, I had the pleasure to become acquainted
with some of the leading Sportsmen of that place, and
joined them in several excursions after Partridges, which
abound in the greatest plenitude throughout that region.
These birds are mostly found in fields covered with Indian
grass, or, to use a southern phrase, in ‘straw fields,”?—
which generally are so extensive that the game seldom
leaves them to take shelter in the adjoining woods. In
consequence of this, the sporting is not attended with
much fatigue, and the success is greater than at the
north, where the numberless thickets protect this species
of game. On an excursion of a few hours, in the immedi-
ate vicinity of Savannah, a small party bagged forty-three
Partridges from one field, and out of seven coveys. I
have observed that these birds are much stronger in the
markings of their plumage, than those of the north; and I
can account for it only from the fact, that the weather is
so much milder at the south, that it does not check the
increasing beauty of the plumage, at any period be-
tween the moulting seasons. On a comparison of my
southern specimens with those shot in the vicinity of Phi-
ladelphia, the contrast is very evident. In this latitude
these birds do not pair until the middle of April, for the
above excursion was made about the 28th of March, and they
were yet congregated in coveys of about a dozen each; in-
deed they are so numerous that the southern Sportsmen
have no set period to refrain from shooting them, only that
which is defined by the appearance of the Moccasins,
(venomous serpents,) which become dangerous about the
first of April. Saw several on the day above mentioned.
Also heard some hounds in full ery after deer, in an ad-
joining wood. Endeavoured to get a shot at a White
Ibis, (Lantalus Albus,) which had settled on a large
magnolia tree in the centre of the field, but did not suc-
ceed. I afterwards heard of four of these birds being
exposed for sale in the Savannah market, but, much
to my regret, they were disposed of before I had an oppor-
tunity of securing them.

Savannah can boast of some first rate Sportsmen; two
of these, Messrs. L and M. » with whom I be-
came acquainted, are of this order. Mild and polite in

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

their manners, it is truly a pleasure to accompany them on
an excursion after game; and on several occasions I expe-
rienced from them the strongest testimonials of a generous
and hospitable spirit.

I was struck with the singular actions of an old pointerdog
belonging to Mr. M , aremarkable fine animal, which,
on approaching game, would crouch on his belly, and drag
himself to the desired spot. I have now and then seen the
same actions in other dogs of the setter breed, but not to
the extent as manifested in this dog. Mr. L had one
of the most promising young dogs | ever saw, which reco-
vered some wounded birds under the most difficult circum-
stances.

Having expressed a desire to visit some of the sea
islands, and part of the coast of Georgia, I received an invi-
tation tomakemy homeat aplantation on Wilmington Island,
which borders Warsaw Sound, and is within a few miles
of the ocean. I accordingly, (March 31st,) visited this
place, and was most politely received at the landing by Mr.
B » who offered me the hospitality of his house, and
any facilities | might require in furtherance of the objects
which brought me there. Wishing to secure some speci-
mens of the southern-shore birds, I availed myself of his
kind offers, and accepted, (April 2d,) the services of four
negroes and a boat, and made an excursion among the inlets
and islands along the coast. Sawnumbers of the Blue Crane,
Snowy Heron, (4rdea Candidissima,) Great White He-
ron, (4. Egretta,) Long-billed Curlew, (Muwmenitus Lon-
girostris,) Great Marbled Godwit, (Scolopax Fedoa,)
Black-bellied Plover, (Charadrius Apricarius,) Tell-
tale Snipe, (8. vociferus ;) and among the high grass
which bordered the different inlets, vast quantities of the
Sea-side Finch, (Pringilla Maritima.)

I witnessed among the Fish-Hawks, (Falco Haliztus,)
this day, a sight truly interesting and grand. The tide
was ebbing fast, and leaving the numerous sand-bars in
Warsaw Sound exposed to view, while in the shallow
water between these bars, multitudes of fish could be seen
sporting, enlivened as it were by the exhilarating influence
of a vernal sun. To one of these spots more than any other,
was the attention of the Fish Hawks drawn. High over
this, sailing and counter-sailing, in circles, I counted thirty-
seven of these noble birds, watching, with anxious eyes,
the finny tribe sporting beneath them. For a considera-
ble time, not a plunge was made by a single Hawk. They
would soar to an immense height, and then descend as if
anxious to strike their prey, and reap the reward of their
efforts; but some counteracting power prevailed, and they
continued their graceful evolutions in the air for a consider-
able length of time. I thought my presence might be the
cause of this, and I withdrew; and, at a distance, seated

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

myself on a fragment of an old wreck, which lay imbed-
ded in the sand on the beach. But human presence was
not the obstacle which interfered with their favourite em-
ployment of fishing. I suspected, then, that their great
enemy, the Hagle, was somewhere within their view;
nor was I mistaken, for, far above the Hawks, and almost
beyond the power of human vision, I discovered an object
floating in the air, which, by its regular evolutions, I judged
to be an Eagle, but the height was so great that I could
not, with certainty, identify the character of the bird.
The mystery was now solyed,—for the presence of the
Eagle was a restraint upon the Hawks; and, finding his
surveillance so operating against his interest, he steered his
course north, and was soon lost to sight.

Now, the Hawks began to plunge, and strike their prey
so successfully, that four or five could be seen struggling
on the surface of the water, with the ill-fated fishes within
their powerful grasp; and, contrary to any thing I had
ever seen before, instead of resorting to a dead tree to de-
vour their food, (their usual practice,) each, as it secured
its prey, would carry it to a neighbouring sand-bar, and
there enjoy its feast. One, however, attempted to cross
the sound with a fish in its talons, when its course was
arrested by the return of the Hagle which immediately
gave chace in order to secure the fish. The Hawk, find-
ing its adversary gaining on him, instead of rising, as they
usually do, in order to gain an ascendancy over the Eagle,
darted down nearly to the water, and flew rapidly just
above its surface; but its ingenuity would not avail, and it
relinquished the fish from its grasp, which fell into the
water. It is an opinion among many naturalists, that the
Eagle will not descend to the water to recover a fish in a
ease like the above; but this Eagle stood upon no such
niceties, for it darted to the water, and after securing its
prize, went off at a moderate flight, to devour it at its lei-
sure. There is much to admire in the Fish Hawk, when
seeking its finny prey. ‘There is a majesty in its flight
as it cleaves the air, with motionless pinions, that scarcely
belongs to any other bird. There is an interest excited by

its hovering over the object before it strikes, and in the ©

boldness and unerring certainty with which it does strike
its prey, that cannot be attached to the actions of any
other of the feathered tribe.

Saw numbers of the Fish Crow, (Corvus Ossifragus,)
and the Marsh Tern, (Sterna ranea,) but not an indivi-
dual of the Lesser Tern, (8. Minuta.) Reached Warsaw
Island,—felt somewhat fatigued,—and ordered the negroes
to gather some oysters for my dinner, which, with some
bread and wine, formed an excellent repast. The atten-
tion of a stranger cannot but be arrested. by the quantities
of oysters which line all the shores of the rivers and inlets

R

65

of this region. They grow on all of the muddy spots, as
high up as the top of the highest tides, but these are not so
large and good, as those which constantly remain under
water.

The negroes, during our progress down the Sound, had
collected a large quantity of conchs, which afforded me
much amusement to see them eaten, with greediness and
relish. They were cooked as follows: The negroes made
a fire out of pine-knots, over which a number of these
shell-fish were placed, to be roasted; they would then
break the shell with a billet of wood, and eat the contents.
This animal substance appeared so tough and gristly, that
it required a sharp knife and much strength to cut it; and,
I should think, would defy the gastric powers of man to
digest. But, to the negroes, it was so delicious a mor-
sel, that they consumed nearly three hours before they got
through their repast.

Took a stroll along the beach for several miles with a
view open to the sea. Gave my gun and ammunition to
the negroes to carry. Saw no birds, but a few females of
the’ Red-breasted Merganser, (Mergus Serrator.) Left
the beach, and went to the higher part of the island; and
when passing through some tall grass, one of the negroes
immediately in front of me jumped a deer within fifteen
yards; could have killed it with duck shot had T been in
possession of my gun; but before it could be handed to me
by the man who was carrying it, the deer was out of view.
This animal was no doubt driven on this very small
island by some hunters from one of the neighbouring
islands. These deer differ greatly in size from those of
the north. South of the above spot, the deer are found
still smaller,-and north of it larger; and this difference is
more manifest according to greater distances. I think
naturalists must have noticed, that the largest deer are
found far north, and the smallest far south, or until you
reach the equinox. The largest deer, as well as their con-
geners, the rein-deer, the elk, and the moose, are inhabi-
tants of the colder regions. The largest buck perhaps ever
seen in this city, is in the Philadelphia Museum; this was
killed in one of the northern districts of Maine, and is
said to have weighed 300 pounds; beside it stands one
from New-Jersey, and is what may be called a fair sam-
ple of those which inhabit the middle states. A good sized

-buck of the middle states will weigh from 150 to 190

pounds. In North Carolina, it is a rare circumstance to
find a buck that will weigh over 130 pounds, and in
Georgia 120 pounds. And thus if we go south, we will
find them still decreasing in size, until we come to the
small Cervus Mexicanus of Central America.

On my return to my friend, Mr. B: , I procured
some valuable specimens of birds, also the nest and eggs

66 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

of the Loggerhead Shrike. This bird has been represent-
ed as very suspicious, shy, and watchful, but I found it
quite the contrary; its nest was built on am orange tree in
my friend’s yard, not more than nine feet from the
ground, under which the family and servants passed
hourly. This and the Blue-bird are the earliest which
incubate in the southern states. Noticed other birds just
building their nests, among which were the Mocking-bird
and Yellow-throat Warbler. These sea islands abound
with the ground Dove, sometimes to an injurious extent.

5th. Entered a dark grove of pines, which were made
more sombrous by being shrouded with moss, ( 7¢llandsia
Usneoides.) Here I very fortunately succeeded in shoot-
ing a male and female Chuck-wills-widow, (Caprimulgus
Carolinensis,)—birds hard to be procured, becatise they
seclude themselves during the day time in the most dense
and silent retreats, and only appear on wing at night.

The mournful appearance of the woodsin many parts of
the south, occasioned by the vast quantities of moss ap-
pended to every branch of the trees, affords but a gloomy
aspect, and tends to impart melancholy feelings to a stran-
ger travelling through these lonely parts. Nature seems
enshrouded in eternal mourning, from which the eye can
get no relief by resting on objects of a more enlivening
kind. The moment you enter these almost endless depths,
the mind is wrapt in solemnity, as though you were
treading the mansions of the dead, and, as you proceed
farther into these gloomy recesses, the feelings inyolun-
tarily accord with the melancholy silence which every
where surrounds you. No noise save that of your own
footsteps, and the monotonous notes of the ivory-billed
Woodpecker, break through the dreary silence, and no
animated being disturbs the reigning solitude, but the
Owl and the Chuck-wills-widow in their noiseless flight.
The pendulous shreds of moss of a dark grayish-olive co-
lour, hang in dense masses, alike from the topmost, middle,
and lowermost branches of the trees, until they trail the
ground, and frequently form festoons from limb to limb of
the same as well as the neighbouring trees. Such is the
abode of the birds of night, and those timid animals which
shun the face of man.

Saw a Fish Hawk take its prey to a large dead iree for
the purpose of devouring it, and with much caution suc-
ceeded in shooting it. Before I had left the spot a large
white-headed Eagle settled on the same tree, drawn thither
no doubt by the appearance of the hawk, but it shared the
same fate. Returned to the house, and prepared these two
birds, and next morning departed for Savannah.

On my passage between Savannah and Charleston, saw
numbers of water birds, especially the Cormorants, which

were arranged in multitudes on the sand-bars in the differ-
ent sounds through which the steam-boat plyed her way;

was more particularly interested by seeing several flocks.

of the Scarlet Ibis, (Tantalus ruber,) which, while skim-
ming the dark green wave, afforded a beautiful contrast
between it and their brilliant plumage.

The vicinity of Charleston affords a vast field for
scientific research; and it is often explored by resi-
dent naturalists, as well as those who are mere transi-
tory visiters. Among the most scientific and enterprising
of the former is the Rev. J. Backman, whose unceasing
efforts in the cause of the natural sciences has done much
to increase and sustain the love and pursuit of these studies
in other members of that community. Mr. Backman has
discovered several new birds and quadrupeds not hitherto
known, and furnished details of their histories to some of
the scientific journals now in course of publication. On the
entrance of a stranger into Charleston, his attention will
immediately be attracted by the number of the Black Vul-
tures, (Vultur jota,) which may be seen perched on
the tops of the houses in different parts of the city. As far
as my observation went, I did not discover a single Tur-
key Buzzard, (Vultur Mura,) in the thickly settled
part of the city. Witnessed the actions of one in the out-
skirts of the town, which convinced me, that these birds
are not altogether dependant on sight to direct them to
their food. I believe they are governed by both the
senses, sight and scent, but more particularly by the for-
mer in eight cases out of ten. In the instance-above
alluded to, I saw the bird skimming the surface of a mud
flat, which the tide had left bare, and then rise and make
a circle over the same spot for several minutes. At
length the Buzzard descended, and settled within twenty-
five yards of where I was standing, and drew from be-
neath the surface of the mud the carcase of a cat. It was
impossible that the bird could have been directed to this
object by sight, as from the manner it was imbedded it was
hidden entirely from view.

While at Charleston, I procured several specimens of
the great Crow Black Bird, the nest, andeggs. This bird,
I believe, is never found north of the Roanoke; their song,
when congregated, is not unlike that of the Purple Mar-
tin, (Hirundo Purpurea,) but much louder. The male
bird is very shy, but the female manifests much concern
when an enemy approaches her nest, and will at times
settle on a limb of the same tree during this encroachment.
The nest I procured was taken from the top of a wild
orange tree, and contained five eggs; there were on this
and five other adjoining trees, thirty-six nests, containing
from one to five eggs each,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 67

HAWKING AND TIGER-HUNTING IN INDIA.

Tux Rajah had promised his hawks and cheetahs for a
morning’s amusement, and at day-light we sallied out.
We were not out long before some royal curlews were dis-
covered feeding in a field, quite unconscious of the array
against them; but upon being put up, they were fully
aware of their danger. It may prove interesting to those
unacquainted with Indian field-sports, to have that which
relates to hawking described; and the present day’s sport
is instanced to commemorate as gratifying a specimen of
this particular kind as ever was witnessed. The curlew
being roused, and seeing its enemies, screamed loudly,
and began to mount almost perpendicularly. The hawk,
which was of the long-wing soaring kind, named a bhyree,
proceeded in chase. Aware of his inability to rise so fast
as his quarry, he went away, as if not disposed to come
back, but imperceptibly ascending. Having gone far
enough, he tacked, and continued to do so until he was
above the curlew. These turns which the hawk makes
are very beautiful, and evince great sagacity. In the
mean time, the curlew had got so high as scarcely to be
within ken, having also gained a considerable distance
from where it rose. It is necessary, therefore, that those
following this sport should ride very hard, and the eye
and mind being intent on the birds in the skies, renders
the work of a hazardous nature. The hawk continues his
tacking, though far away from the curlew, until he finds
himself above the level of his prey, and then off he goes
with the speed of lightning. The curlew perceives his
disadvantage, and hastens to get over water, as the
hawk knows that he is then in great danger, and refuses to
strike. If, however, no water is near, the curlew makes
for the ground as fast as he can fly, and it is only known
by his descending that the hawk is above him, both are so
high and so far away. At this moment the greatest de-
light is experienced. The hawk closing his wings rushes
down in the pursuit with a velocity incredible to those
who have not witnessed it, and such is it that his passage
through the air sounds like a mighty wind. The curlew
cannot escape, and before he has time to reach the earth
the hawk has stricken him senseless. The latter is too
careful to come with all his own force with the curlew to
the ground, as he would most likely be killed; but he in-
stinctively drops him when within a few yards, and then
follows and secures his prey. The keepers and amateurs
come up and prevent the hawk being injured by the
fluttering or pecking of the curlew. The proceedings are
similar to those in European countries after the flight and
capture, such as breaking the poor creature’s wings, and
permitting the hawk to find his own way to the yictim’s

heart through his breast, and having the marrow of the
legs drawn out by a feather of his wing, and givenasa sop
of reward for his suecess. It was seldom the keeper had
the kindness to ease the curlew’s sufferings by killing it
at once.

The riding, the hawk’s maneuvring, and the attempts
of the curlew to escape, make this sport one of great excita-
tion. Ifthe hawk can merely see his quarry, and he is a
staunch bird, there is no fear of his quitting it, though he
may set off in a contrary direction. Aid must be at hand
to free him from water, or any birds such as kites or
crows, who invariably attack him if without defence.

After breakfast we accompanied the Rajah in some boats
upon the lake to hawk for water-fowl; there were plenty of
teal, ducks, and coots; these were pursued by the baz, or
short-winged hawk, and brought to land. It was amusing
to see the hawk get upon the body of a bird, if they both
fell into the water; for some of the coots and ducks were
too heavy for them to carry. This was rather dull sport.
In the evening we dined with the Rajah in the tent.

March 1.—To the right bank of the Ganges, (eight
miles.) From two to three miles before reaching camp
we quitted the high grounds, and came down into what are
termed kader lands, 7. e. those flooded in the rains, and
yielding nothing but long grass, used in thatching
houses, and such like purposes. This belt of land is
on both sides of the river; it varies in width from half a
mile to two miles, and continues for a great distance.
There are a few scattered villages where a higher patch of
ground offers some chances of harvest for the toil of cul-
ture, but for the most part, being low and swampy, with
very thick grass and bushes, it is almost in the undisputed
possession of tigers, and myriads of other game.

In the forenoon, flying rumours were about that sundry
bullocks had been killed over night by a party of maraud-
ing tigers; nothing certain of their being near came in till
three o’clock, when it was decided to mount and go in
quest of them. Out the party sallied, his Excellency at
its head. ‘There were nine elephants with sportsmen
in howdahs, and twelve others with pads only; these
twenty-one made a good line, and we bent our course to
the remains of the deceased bullocks. We beat up and
down for an hour, putting up quantities of black partridge,
hog-deer, and other game. The grass had been set on fire
in some places by the herdsmen, for the purpose of their
flocks being able to get at the young sprouts underneath:
these fires, from the high wind, burnt with amazing fury,
and the roaring noise was almost alarming; it required some
ingenuity to get out of its course. After beating about
for some time in theswamp we came upon a tiger. When
the elephants found out what sort of play we were after,

68 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

they began to pipe and trumpet, with their trunks, and off
they all scampered, with the exception of that on which his
Excellency sat, and one other. What with digging the iron
hook into their heads; and by dint of kicks, coaxing, and
abuse, several were brought to the scratch, and among
them the one belonging to the writer of these lines. ©

Coming to where the tiger lay, we saw him in the atti-
tude of springing, his eyes glaring through the grass.
After some few shots, among which, by monstrous luck,
was one from my own gun, he yielded up his life, which
till to-day had doubtless passed far from the busy haunts
of man, shunning all but the society of his own immediate
family,and stained with the slaughter of a thousand bullocks.
Packing the dead, or, in sporting phrase, ‘‘bagging’’ the
tiger, on the top of a pad elephant, we commenced a
search for another. In a few minutes we roused two, and
off they bolted; it was beautiful to see them cantering
away, and now and then standing on their hind feet to see
whereabout the enemy was. ‘These two soon separated;
the largest took to the right, and seemed disposed to force
our line, as he came back towards us: he effected his pur-
pose, but was felled by a shot; other shots followed
quickly, and he soon was despatched. Of this fight I saw
but little, having gone alone after my ‘‘own bird;”? there
were two small pad elephants with me; the beast was
hunted backwards and forwards, when, on getting close to
him, he charged one of the small elephants, upon which
there was a man with a spear; with this weapon the man
beat him off, the elephant running away as fast ashe could.
Quitting this, he attacked the other elephant, and in the
hurry to get away, a man that was on his back fell off
almost at the tiger’s feet: I was obliged to stop and pick
him up.

Having the misfortune to break the loose ramrod while
ramming down a ball, nothing remained to me but patience,
which of all virtues is less known or understood in tiger-
shooting than in any other pursuit, and all that could be
done was to keep the animal in view till the rest of the
party came up from the conquest of the second. His entry
into some thick grass being marked, the line advanced, and
soon came upon him in some deep water, which he could
not cross without swimming. Upon being disturbed, he
turned and sprang up, seizing an elephant by the root of
the tail; off they both went, amid the shouts and shots of
the party. We had no regard to the person on the ele-
phant, to the cooly or assistant who was standing with his
feet within an inch of the tiger’s teeth, or to the elephant
himself, but, with a stoical indifference to the safety of all
three, crack, crack, went the guns; it was in all ways a
Seu-dezoie.

After the tiger had ridden en croupe for twenty yards

or thereabouts, he fell dead, pierced by eight or ten balls.
He proved to bea young male, not full grown: the other
two, a full grown male and female, were most likely his
respected parents. While he was hanging on by the tail,
the elephant, not liking his outside passenger, tried all
means to dislodge him; he kicked with all his might, and
put out a hind leg to pull him under his body: these
kicks and cuffs must have been as serviceable to the tiger
asa fall from the seventh heaven. The infinite dexterity
with ‘which so unwieldy an animal as the elephant can
hook in a tiger, wild hog, or deer, with his hind leg is in-
eredible. When once within the chancery limits of his
four legs, no ingenuity or force can extricate the unlucky
object from the process which it undergoes. A ball in the
hands of a juggler does not change sides with greater cele-
rity, nor is there any bread in Christendom more. tho-
roughly kneaded. A full grown tiger is reduced, by this
operation, toameremummy. After the termashu or sport
was over, the elephant was inspected, to ascertain if he
had been wounded; no marks were discernible, ‘which to
all of us seemed the oddest thing in the whole business.

No one, save the tiger himself, was less pleased at the
recklessnessof our proceedings, than the gentleman on the
elephant, whose situation was not, by any train of reason-
ing, an enviable one; but how he, or any other person,
could expect that such a batch of bumpkins in the myste-
ries of tiger shooting should be able, on their first finding,
to behave with the least leaven of reflection, or approach
to decorum, is certainly beyond all comprehension. The
party returned to the camp at sunset, having left it at half
past three, thus doing all our work in an hour and a half,
and within a mile of camp. I have been, perhaps, too dif-
fuse on this subject, but it was the coup d’essai of every
one of the party, and its proving so good, and serving,
though in an imperfect manner, to show what tiger shoot-
ing is, will, it is to be hoped, plead in excuse for the pro-
lixity of the narration.

The little elephant, whose rider fell off his back, ran
away to the jungles, and no tidings of the truant have
since been gained.—4rcher’s Tour in India.

SPORTING IN BENGAL.
From the London Sporting Magazine.

On Sunday, Sept. 9th, 182-, I bade farewell to my
Calcutta friends with a dark feeling of presentiment,
which told me that most of us had parted to meet no
more; and which foreboding time has but too well con-

AND AMERICAN

firmed. But having to get all my things on board the
budjrow, and arrange them for the voyage up the river,
little time was allowed for moping meditation: and more-
over, our fleet, consisting of eight or ten budjrows, with a
cooking-boat attached to each, I did not much apprehend
that the trip would be a melancholy one. Nine people
out of ten know what a dudjrow is; but, for the benefit of
the tenth, I will describe it:—Imagine a nondescript sort
of vessel, like Peter’s fishing-boat, low before and high
behind, with two capital apartments running from the
stern to midships, and enclosed with green venetians;
the roof flat, upon which the manjee, or steersman, is
perched; the rudder, resembling a pole, with a river-hatch
tied to the extremity; imagine a figure-head of Lord
Clive, or Lord Amherst, in turban, red coat, and buck-
skin breeches; a bamboo mast, and paddles of the same
tied to the gun-wale; and you have the budjrow complete.

My destination was not very distant, being only to
Dinnapore, in Bahar, a large central station, 500 miles
from Calcutta by water; and I sent a.favourite Arab, in
charge of two servants, over-land, whilst a Persian hack
accompanied me in the cook-boat—the sides of the boat
being lined with bundles of rush, to prevent his heels
from demolishing the crazy planks, and sending the whole
concern to the bottom of the river.

Soon lost sight of Calcutta, and the taper flag-staff of
Fort-William; but at a sudden turn of the river the cur-
rent became so strong as to induce our lazy dandies to halt
early in the evening. We were all of us, except the cap-
tain, freshmen, or, in the Anglo-Indian tongue, griffs,
(perhaps so called from our similarity to fiery griffins, in
our new red flaming jackets, ) and thought tigers in Bengal
were necessarily as plentiful as pepper-corns: so on shore
we went at twilight, Ensign S and myself making for
a beautiful woodland on our right. After beating till dark,
without finding any thing but a few turtle doves, and jun-
gle-crows, we espied a bangalow, (a snug kind of thatched
villa, belonging to mofasst/, 7. e. country residents,) and
near it the owner taking a quiet stroll on the lawn. Sup-
posing that no man in his senses could live in so lonely
a place, and one so gamish in appearance, without being a
sportsman, we made our salaam to him, and inquired what
part he would recommend for our morning’s sport. I
shall never forget the frigid look of the Missionary, as he
answered, ‘¢ Sir! Z never indulge in swch recreations!”’
We bowed to the earth and decamped, wishing that we
had brought a bottle of claret with us, for that gelid tone
would have cooled it far better than could any saltpetre.

Wednesday, 12th.—Stayed all day at Barrackpore.
Jemmy G resolved on sport, loaded himself and two
doriyas (dog-keepers) with ammunition—vyiz. powder,

s

—_—_ — _— =... =

RURAL SPORTS. 69

shot, brandy, and cheroots, and went ashore; where he
entered the sacred purlieus of the Governor-General’s
park—popped away at some tame antelopes—maimed a
gold pheasant for life—and at last narrowly escaped being
ripped up by the nasal horn of Lord Amherst’s pet rhino-
ceros. Luckily for Jemmy, before he had committed
much devastation amongst this forbidden game, a native
sentry caught sight of the intruder, and fired a ball-cart-
ridge over his head. Jemmy took the hint, faced to the
right about, and was slinking quietly back to his boat,
when, as the devil, or Sheittaun, would have it, his blood-
thirsty eye caught sight of a tall and stately adjutant, (not
a spurred militaire, but a bird of the crane kind, six feet
high; and without delay, he saluted it with both barrels,
ball and buck-shot. The bird dropped dead, and poor
Jemmy reyelled in glory, and had to pay fifty rupees for
destroying it—that being the fine for the death of this use-
ful scavenger.

Thursday, 18th.—Got under way a little before sun-
rise, that most lovely period of a tropical day, which we
enjoy with the greater zest, because we know that in ano-
ther hour we shall all be gasping for breath, like shoals of
cray-fish in a basket. As we tracked past a village a
beautiful Brahminy-kite, with its rich chesnut plumage
and snowy bosom, came floating above my head. It isa
bird esteemed sacred by the Hindoos, but the temptation
was too strong for a griff. I was sitting on deck with my
double-barrel loaded, and as the kite sailed over the budj-
row, I sent a bullet whistling through her heart. Nearly a
hundred Indians were bathing and praying in the river,
according to custom, and the yell uttered by them on this
occasion was quite startling, on witnessing the death of
their favourite bird. Juno would not have been more
wrathful to have lost one of her peacocks. It was a fool-
ish thing to offend the prejudices of a conquered people
in any way; but whoever wore a gold-laced cap, and thought
of consequences? In fact, even now I am given to do
first, and think afterward. Many of the plebeians rushed
into the water with menaces and execrations. This inso-
lence on the dlackeys part might not be endured; I point-
ed my gun at them, and cried, ‘‘jow, begone.”? They
hesitated, but on shouting ‘¢ eropedar, beware,”’ in a louder
tone, they one and all gave back, and retired muttering
amongst themselves. Such is the habitual and fearful re-
spect which natives of India entertain for Englishmen—it
is that which alone upholds us in the Hast, and it is that
which at present we are labouring to destroy.

After getting several miles above Chinsurah, the country
became more promising for a shot; and an hour before sun-
set I landed with a setter and pointer, near an extensive
morass, where I shot a brace of wild-ducks, and saw a

70

great abundance of white cranes and paddy-birds, which
are, however, unfit for the pot, and, therefore, safe from
Indian sportsmen, to whom patent shot and powder are
expensive articles.

The paddy-bird, so called from its frequenting paddy,
or rice-fields, is a species of crane, light in body, but stand-
ing nearly eighteen inches; the wings, back, and neck, are
of a light olive-brown; the breast, belly, and sides, white;
so that it appears a white bird when flying, and a brown
one whilst on the ground. This bird, as well as the white
erane,. another elegant species of the same genus, abounds
every where throughout the Indian plains and marshes, and
feeds principally on small fish, grubs, mosquito-eggs, &c.

The Bengal morasses are most disagreeable places to
_ wade through, being generally up to one’s knees in mud
and stagnant water; and every now and then the unfortu-
nate sportsman comes to ‘‘a green and smiling spot,”
which he hails with rapture after losing his shoes and pa-
tience in the mud,—and no sooner steps upon than he
sinks up to his chin in the treacherous bog,—there to
remain, the scorn of gnats and mosquitoes, till suecour may
chance to arrive. I always found it the better plan to
leave my shoes and stockings at home, and go the bog-
trotter’s pace; a few rushes and light feet will form a
bridge over the vilest quicksand.

This evening I had some excellent shooting on the bor-
ders of an immense tank, or artificial lake, which was sur-
rounded by a dense mass of underwood and tassel-grass.
The tank, having long been neglected, was overgrown
with weeds and lotus plants, and full of a large species of
water-hen, of a beautiful bluish-green, with scarlet head,
twice the size of the European kind, and tolerable eating.

After shooting a few I was wading in up to my arm-pits
to pick up another, when I observed a long undulating
furrow on the calm surface of the lake advancing towards
me. After watching the motion in the water for a moment
I faced about, and quickly regained ferra-firma—not
wishing to find myself on a sudden in an alligator’s maw,
and being unprovided with the expedient which saved
Baron Munchausen from a like fate.

Saturday, 15th.—All this day the country was one
wild extent of endless plain, covered with the surpat or
tassel-grass, twelve feet in height, with a white silky
blossom. These parts are entirely uncultivated, and har-
bour an immense number of leopards, antelopes, and wild
buffaloes.

We were now many miles distant from Calcutta, and
considered the campaign as opened. I killed several cou-
ple of snipes and wild-pidgeons this afternoon, and re-
marked some birds different from our European ones, and
which I shall describe as I happen to recollect them.—1. A

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

beautiful bird of the jay kind, of more brilliant plumage,
though in shape resembling our own.—2. The little spotted
Indian dove, with back and wings mottled like tortoise-
shell, (hence, perhaps, called ¢wrt/e-dove,) the breast of a
delicate pink, red eyes and legs, and not larger than a
blue-bird.—3. The mina; as good a talker as our star-
ling, and of the same genus, though much larger, and
of a dark brown mixed with yellow and white; common
to all India; is a gregarious bird, and resembles the star-
ling in its habits and movements more than in shape or
colour.—4. A light brown bird, with yellow beak and legs, —
as large as a thrush, but resembling an immense hedge-
sparrow. I forget the native name.

Soon after dark, the jackals came down to the boats in
such numbers as to require a general turn-out against
them. The poor dandies, cooking their suppers on the
beach, could not turn their heads without missing a por-
tion of their meal, and several were bitten by these raven-
ous animals, which are naturally very cowardly; but hun-
ger and strong temptation will make even a craven bold.
Between the yells of the jackals, the shouts of the differ-
ent black crews, the blazing fires, and report of the fre-
quent shots fired at the enemy, the scene put me in mind
of Pandemonium. No jackals, however, fell on the occa-
sion, from the darkness of the night; and, after one of our
dandies had narrowly escaped being shot through the
lungs, it was deemed prudent to desist firing, and leave
the ground in quiet possession of the enemy.

Sunday, 16th.—Throughout India there are not, I be-
lieve, more than thirty-five or forty chaplains, and not
half that number of churches: therefore, it may be ex-
pected that Anglo-Indians grow somewhat negligent of
forms, and particularly ignorant of the days of the week—
few knowing whether it is our Saturday, Sunday, or Mon-
day! Having neither bell nor padré to give our memories
a jog, we landed at noon in a likely spot, where the coun-
try was diversified with patches of cultivation and rushy
jeels. All the morning vast flocks of wild ducks and
widgeon had been winging their way over-head, in such
countless multitudes, that I am afraid to state the amount
at which we calculated them. They flew in troops of from
eighty to one hundred ducks in each, the troops following
one another in regular succession; and a space of ¢wo hours
intervened between the coming of the first and the last
flight, although there was not a break of thirty yards be
tween any one troop! In all probability they were bound for
the inundation, which was now beginning to subside to
the N, E. of the Sunderbunds, where the marshy delta
of the Megna and Ganges would afford them a fine harvest.

Many stragglers were left behind, and I managed to
kill five ducks, two widgeons, three couple of wild pigeons,

AND AMERICAN

and a Pariah dog, which last had the audacity to attack
my English Pointer.

A fine setter, belonging to my companion, had a nar-
row escape this evening; he swam into the Hoogly, to-
wards some black object moving on the water, and which
turned out to be a Hindoo corpse with a koomer, or bull-
headed alligator feasting upon it. The dog turned tail
immediately, like a very prudent general, readily acknow-
ledging himself inferior to the enemy: but the koomer—
the most savage and fearless of the crocodile kind—would
not let him off so easily; but, leaving the black carrion,
darted after poor Don without delay. Don was ina devil
of a funk, and almost drowned himself through fright and
conglomeration of ideas; and though he was close to the
bank in a minute, and within ten paces of us, the alligator
would undoubtedly have shortened his tail a few inches,
if not his body also, had not S rapped away both bar-
rels into the koomer’s eyes, and I joined him in the cour-
teous salute. Thealligator gave a whisk with his long jag-
ged tail, and disappeared. Never was dog so happy as
Don, or man as his master, for I think S gave more
than a hundred rupees for the brute.

Setters, pointers, terriers, and bull-dogs, are seldom
worth their keep in Bengal. Game is too plentiful,
and lies too well to require the aid of the two former,
which seldom live long, or retain their noses. Terriers
are useful as pets only, or for catching bandycoots. When
or where bull-dogs are useful, I have never been able to
discover.

Shooting in India is pursued in three kinds of country
—the jungles, either grass or underwood; the paddy, or
rice field; and the fens, or rushy banks of rivers and nudlas.
For the first, a couple or two of stout active spaniels may
be very serviceable; especially in the tangled coverts
which human beaters cannot penetrate, but which are hol-
low at the roots of the bushes. ‘The sportsman may fol-
low the windings of the deer or buffalo tracks with his
ears and gun at full cock; and, if his dogs are alert, and
water not too distant, pea-fowl, jungle-fowl, and very pro-
bably a wild buck, will reward a few hours toil. For the
paddy-fields no dogs are required; a good double-barrel,
plenty of dust shot, a bottle of brandy, straw hat, a sound
liver, clear conscience, and a wll ready made, fit him for
the sport. After the rains, when the rice-grounds are
partially overflowed, or still moist, the delightful recrea-
tion of snipe-shooting is most advantageously pursued.
The snipes throughout India are nearly as numerous as
mosquitoes, fly lazily, and would, perhaps, be more shy,
but for the danger which ever attends their destruction.
If the snipe-shooter intends to fill his bag, he must start
when the sun is hottest, trudge across the plains up to

RURAL SPORTS. 71

his middle in water, whilst his brains are addled by
the solar heat. Few snipe-shots live through two seasons;
but still ’tis sport—glorious sport!! In the fens, and on
banks of rivers—which are generally covered with masses
of rush or grass, twelve and fourteen feet high—a _ well-
trained spaniel may again be useful, especially if he is a
good retriever. Every dog is glad enough to take the
water in India; but they should not be allowed to indulge
too often in a bath when heated, or it will speedily beget
liver and canker in the ears.

Coursing and antelope shooting are the only healthful
sports to be enjoyed in India—which I have found to my
cost—if we except, perhaps, those grand field days, which
can be enjoyed but seldom, as they require extensive pre-
parations, hosts of beaters, and a troop of elephants. Sin-
gle sportsmen cannot venture to rouse the tiger, leopard,
or wild buffalo, from their lairs in the heavy jungle.

Jackals bite very hard, and not unfrequently spoil deli-
cate gray-hounds, which have not been used to such rough
treatment: the most savage and hard-mouthed dogs should
therefore be preferred, if they are expected to run at
every thing. Many men slip their gray-hounds after
hares, foxes, and spotted deer only. I think that speedy
lurchers would be found of great service; a brace of good
ones would turn upa hyena, an animal frequently encoun-
tered when beating for jackals in a jungle country. Many
also, from fear of disheartening their dogs, never slip them
at the large red antelopes, whose surprising speed and
stoutness will beat most gray-hounds with the greatest
ease. Inthe sands of the Mahanuddy, and on the flats
bordering the Chilka Lake, these animals lose their supe-
riority, by reason of their cloven hoofs sinking into the
sand, whilst the spongy feet of the dogs buoy them up,
like camels, on the surface. During the dry season, when
the white sands of the river Mahanuddy lie exposed on
either side the channel, to a great extent, we used to ride
down the deer and antelopes with our horses alone, and
transfix them, en passant, with hog-spears.

Monday, 17th.—This night, which happened to be a
clear starlight one, but without a moon, S- and myself
determined to sit up for the jackals, a sport by no means
exhilarating to an old Indian, but from its novelty and
singularity peculiarly adapted to freshmen, who are not
afraid of the night air.

I cannot imagine how we should get on in India with-
out that useful animal the jackal: he is positively bread
and cheese to sportsmen of all degrees; he is not, indeed,
food for the body, but he is for the mznd; and is esteemed
by fox-hunters, coursers, shots, and badger-baiters, alike!
Nor must his universal services as a scavenger and de-
vourer of the village filth be overlooked. We hunt him,

72 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

course him, shoot him, bait him, entrap him, and skin
him; and yet he is, without exception, the most useful lit-
tle wretch in Hindoostan. Without him, the kite, and the
argeela, in all probability that horrid scourge, the plague,
would, before now, have paid us a visit.

The night was a clear twilight, and taking up our guns,
we left the budjrow at ten o’clock, and took up a position
behind some felled timber, which lay on an open common,
between the river and a vast track of wocdland in front.

We waited in silence and suspense for nearly an hour,
though the spirit of locomotion was evidently stirring
amongst the quadrupeds of the forest. First a few solitary
howls were heard from the distant jungle; then the yelp-
ing became louder and louder; and finally settled into one
general chorus:

«“°T was uproar all,
From Niger eastward, to the affrizhted Nile.”

This dreary discord, which nightly disturbs the Indian
woods, is so wild and melancholy, that it is not by any
means agreeable to a stranger. Louder and louder grew
the yells of the jackals,—and the long whining moan of
the hyzna on the right, left, and to the front; they seemed
to encompass us; we cocked both barrels, knelt down, and
prepared for action. On reaching the skirt of the jungle,
the different packs appeared to separate in various direc-
tions; and a troop of more than fifty made directly for our
ambuscade, open-mouthed, and yelling like a legion of
devils. It was a moment of delightful and thrilling sus-
pense; we could not see the approaching enemy, but we
could hear the hoarse barks of the old, and the shrill tre-
ble of the young ones, coming down upon us like the
wind. They were evidently on the scent of something—
whether of ourselves, or otherwise, we could not guess;
but we rested our guns over the trunk of a tamarind tree,
and made ready to dispute the passage. In a second we
could desery the dusky figures of the jackals, galloping
towards us through the gloom; they drew nearer and
nearer—three were a-head, the rest in a compact body
behind—their noses to the ground, and their pace a long
slouching gallop. « A little nearer yet,”’ said I. ¢¢ Fire!’’
Four barrels flashed and thundered through the darkness
in a sharp and sudden volley:—the yells were hushed in a
moment on every side; and we sallied from our ambush
to return a list of the killed and wounded.

One jackal lay struggling upon the ground, and soon
gave up the ghost;—another lay motionless a few yards
off, apparently quite dead; but when I went to pick him
up, the cunning brute gave a desperate gripe at my
leg. Luckily for me, he seized the gun-barrel, and the

deep mark of his fangs will remain impressed on it till it
ceases to be a gun-barrel.

From the dark forests around, the wild yellings of the ani-
mals on all sides, and the lonely solitude of the hour,
jackal-shooting, by twilight, is not without its charms.

SHIKAREE.

SHEEP KILLED BY CATS.

Tue last Lancaster Pa. Examiner says:—‘ Incredible
as this may sound, we have good authority for saying the
deed has actually been perpetrated in this county. Seve-
ral cats of the common species, with their progeny, have
for three or four years past made an old stone quarry in
Martic township their abiding place, and in that time, it
would seem, have relapsed to the wild state, and ac-
quired the ferocious and predatory habits natural to their
tribe. A short time ago some of them were seen in pur-
suit of a full-grown sheep belonging to the flock of Mr.
Martin Herr, of that vicinity. They soon overtook it,
dragged it to the ground, and before the person who wit-
nessed the scene could reach the spot, they succeeded in
so lacerating the poor animal’s throat, that it bled to death
in a short time. It required considerable exertion to
drive them off. A dog, subsequently sent in pursuit of
them, caught one, but would probably have been himself
worsted in the conflict that ensued, had not the owner
come to his rescue. It is said they also pursued a small
boy some time ago, and followed him a considerable dis-
tance, as is now supposed, with deadly intent.””

RECIPE TO CURE THE MANGE IN DOGS.

Take 7 parts flower of sulphur,
2 do. carbonate of ammonia,
1 do. sulphate of copper.

Pulverize the two latter ingredients to a fine powder,
and mix the whole together with hog’s lard, to the consist-
ency of soft paste. The dog should be rubbed well with
this over all the parts affected with the mange, and repeat-
ed on the third day. Once rubbing will generally suffice;
but a second application of the ointment will certainly ef-
fect a cure. D.

AGENT FOR NEW-YORK CITY AND BROOKLYN,
P. fA. MESIER, 28 WALL STREET.

AGENTS

FOR

CHE CABINET OF NATURAL WIETORY.

AND

AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Marne—Samuel Colman, Portland.

Massacuuserts—Allen and Ticknor, Boston; Charles Whipple, Newburyport.

Ruope Istanp— , Providence.

Connecticut—Hezekiah Howe, New-Haven.

New-Yorr—P. A. Mesier, 28 Wall st., New-York City; Weare C. Little, Albany
and Schenectady; G.J. Grosvenor, Esq. P. M., Geneva; John De Witt, West
Point; Aaron Belknap, Hsq., Newburgh; P. Potter, Poughkeepsie; Craw-
ford Livingston, Hudson; Wm. S. Parker, Troyand Lansingburgh; H. & E.

Phinney, Utica and Little Falls:J.S. V. Yates, Syracuse; H. Ivison & Co.,
4luburn; Bemis & Ward, Canandaigua, Samuel Drake, Rochester.

New-Jersry—H. R. Merseilles, Bridgetown. i

PxrnnsyLyanra—Aaron Lambert, New-Hope; James Peacock, P. M., Harrisburg.

Marriayp—k. J. Coale, & Co., Baltimore; Dennis Claude, Annapolis.

District or Corumpra—Pishey Thompson, Washington City; R. Zimmerman,
Alexandria.

Virernita—John W. Campbell, Petersburgh; E. P. Nash, Norfolk; R. 1. Smith,
Richmond; William F. Gray, P. M., Fredericksburg.

Norra Carormna—Turner & Hughes, Raleigh.

Sourn Carorina—W. H. Berritt, Charleston; Alexander Young, Camden; B,
D. & T. H. Plant, Columbia.

Grorera—Richards & Ganahl, 2ugusta; William T. Williams, Savannah.

TrennessEE—Hichbaum & Norvell, Nashville.

Outo—Jostau Drake & Co,, Cincinnati; B. Laruam, P. M., Columbus,

THE

CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

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MILERICAN RURAL SPORTS

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TERMS—HEight Dollars per annum, payable in advance. 3
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NATURAL

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WITH ILLUSTRATIONS,

A MONTHLY PUBLICATION.

VOL. III.

PHladelphta:
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOUGHTY, NO. 5, LIBRARY STREET, ABOVE FOURTH.

WILLIAM STAVELY, PRINTER.

INDEX

‘TO THE

FOURTH NUMBER, VOLUME III.

Prats VII. Death of the Fox.

Fox Hunting - - - = - = = = = =
Notes of a Naturalist. By Jacop Grezn, M.D. - - = - -
Habits and Manners of a Female Borneo Orang-Utan, and a Male Chimpan-
zee. By J. E. Warwick - - - - -
On preserving Insects selected for Cabinets. By C. Warrenton’ - -
An attempt to naturalize the Virginian Partridge in England - -_~ -

Puate VII. Spotted Grous—half size.

History of the Spotted Grous - - - Aye rt eam = eau Sea ete
A WolfHunt - - aS aie is Vega = hemes Aa ae = 2 u i
Domestic Pigeons, their varieties and management - - - - =
The Yankee Pedlar and the Hunters - - meg a Aa = gen = ea
Scipio and the Bear - - 2 - =a = z i i
Hippopotamus Hunt - - = xs 4 ; = “5 R
Church-going Dogs RE ART eee He Alta awR 2. eae ay 4B ee

Nishibe

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AIDEN FO

7) BI AoOF pan

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£9. peavsbug

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Tas

ayaa

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Bats .

weed abe.

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:
: i
Ra,

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Pecan!
un

(iad Vi

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

FOX HUNTING.

DEATH OF THE FOX.

[Plate VII. Vol. 3.]

The morn is rising bright and red,

(As Venus blushed from Neptune’s bed,)

And throwing by her dusky veil,

Descends into the lowland dale.

Light mist-wreaths round her forehead curl,

Her neck is gemmed with liquid pearl ;

And hosts of fragrant flowers display

Their beauties in her shining way.

The radiant stars that came with night
To sing the chorus of the sky,

Now “ pale their ineffectual” light,
Before the day-god’s beaming eye,

And shrinking one by one away,
Leave the blue vault without a stain,

With here and there a cloud to stray
Like lonely wanderers o’er the plain.

The rosy tinge that marks the east
With beauty art can never show,

With morning’s rise is still increased,
Until it breaks into one glow

Of rich and burning golden light,

Too glorious for the dazzled sight.

How still is all the sleeping earth !
“And not a sound in heaven is heard,

Save now and then a note of mirth
Bursting from some awakening bird,

That in the ecstacy of life,
Up from its leafy quiet springs,

And with its mate in lovely strife,
Soars in the joyous beam, and sings.

All else is silent as the night,
And breathless as the early dew,
That sleeps in drops of glittering light
Upon the wild flowers rosy hue.

Frail things of earth that spring to life,
And drink the sun, and shine and die—
And yet with being’s glory rife,
Ave wonderful to human eye.

But hark !—a distant sound I hear,
It comes like music on mine ear—
Again !—it is the bugle’s note,

Borne on the misty air along—
It seems upon the breeze to float

As if some spirit woke its song.
Again it breathes—and nearer now—

A louder and a clearer strain—
And echo answers soft and low,

As though she deemed her effort vain.

©! at the hour of early morn,
Earth has no such inspiring sound,

T

As that of the resounding horn

That wakes the silence all around.
How sweetly on the ear it thrills,
Bounding from o’er the distant hills,
Bearing the mind in fancy back
To chaste Diana’s rosy track,
When thro’ the summer woods she flew,
And scarce disturbed the honey’d dew.

But louder now the echoes swell—

And hark! I hear the distant yell

Of eager hounds that scent their prey

Thro’ fields and fallow far away—

They come—they come—the clam’rous pack
Lifting their voices in full cry,

And close upon the fox’s track,
Like mountain-torrent, they sweep by—

And horse and huntsman follow near,
Dashing thro’ ditch, thro” briar and brake—

He strikes the spur, the bank they clear—
The whip is raised, they swim the lake.

Away—away—with careless speed,
Strained to the task, they onward bound—
Away—away—go man and steed—
Away—away—go horn and hound.

The wearied prey begins to faint,

He tums and doubles, all in vain—
The eager dogs defy restraint,

And hunt him to the open plain.

But safer ’mid the sheltering trees,

Back to the woods he speeds his way,
Yet still his scent is on the breeze,

And yelling hounds pursue their prey.

in vain he sirives, with swifter pace,
To leave his ravening foes behind—

tm vain he would their scent misplace,
And bid them snuff the vacant wind.

In vain his toil—in vain his care—
For bursting in with furious sound,
Like thunder on the summer air,
His fierce pursuers close him round.

From front to rear the gathering clan
Send their proud echo to the skies—

And ’mid the shouts of brute and man,
At length the hapless victim dies.

The early mists have rolled away,

And high in heaven careers the sun—
While in the face of garish day,

The horn proclaims the conquest won.

‘O did we take for heaven above,
(So sings the bard of melody,)
The pains we take for woman’s love,
What very angels should we be.

73

74 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

O did we run our better race,

(Thus may the muse conclude her strain,)
With half the zeal we give the chase,

What endless honours should we gain.

Asacorrect knowledge of Horsemanship is necessary
to those who pursue the manly and invigorating sport of
Fox Hunting, the following hints are selected, which may
prove interesting and instructive.

The great secret, or the very essence, I may say, of
the art of riding, consists in assuming or taking a corres-
ponding motion to that of the horse ; or, in other words,
the rider should accommodate himself, with a pleasant
pliability to every motion of the horse : whenever it is
otherwise, his seat will be unpleasant, unsafe, and indeed
dangerous. This may be regarded, not only as the es-
sence of horsemanship (as I have already observed,) but
as the fundamental principle, from which subsequent ex-
cellence or proficiency must arise; and cannot be too deep-
ly impressed on the minds of those who feel any inter-
est in the subject. On this account, I would advise those
who wish to become excellent horsemen to practice with-
out stirrups, which they will find of the greatest possible
service in forming a close secure seat. Respecting the
close seat, it may not be amiss here to remark, that there
are to be found advocates for the doose seat. On this
subject, I had, some few years ago, a conversation with a
riding master, who seemed to think that a Joose seat in
hunting was to be preferred: on expressing my surprise
at such a notion, he endeavoured to prove the correctness
of his position by observing, that, in case of a fall, the
horse would not be so likely to roll on the rider, as the
latter would most probably be thrown several yards from
him. The man who reasoned thus is a good rider in the
school, and has an elegant seat on horseback; but, like
some others of his fraternity whom I have met with, he is
timid; and his remarks on this subject were evidently the
offspring of fear rather than philosophy ; nor, when duly
considered, can any thing be more remote from truth.
Admitting that a loose seat will be the cause of precipitat-
ing the rider to a distance in case of the horse falling,
the very circumstance itself appears to me more pregnant
with danger than the chance of the horse rolling upon his
rider. The most imminent danger, I conceive, of a horse
rolling upon his rider, is when, in jumping timber, a wall,
or other fence with a stiff top, the horse catches it with
his fore feet, and goes “‘ budl-neck over,”’ to use a very ex-
pressive phrase of a sporting friend; and I am in doubt
whether in this case the loose rider is not in more danger
than the close rider. At all events, a loose rider must
calculate on a great number of falls, since, with a seat of
this description, he must ‘be liable to be unhorsed on every

trifling irregularity, circumstances which are constantly
occurring, in following hounds across a country.

But it does not always happen, that a horse comes
“bull-neck over,’’ if he tips the top of a gate or style;
since one which J at present possess, a good hunter, too,
and has carried me many times after hounds, has frequent-
ly carried off the top bar of a gate, but kept his legs, ne-
vertheless ; indeed such a circumstance, when a strong
horse comes thus in contact with a weak or rotten gate or
rail, is sure to happen.

In advising a young sportsman to practice riding with-
out stirrups, it must not be understood, that I consider the
stirrups as useless: on the contrary, the ease of the sports-
man depends mainly upon them, and frequently his safety
also. Iam aware that riding masters pretend (and Adams
among the rest) that the use of the stirrup adds no secu-
rity to the seat; but, if they mean to apply this maxim
to riding after hounds, it is not only untrue, but a positive
absurdity. The knee and the calf of the leg are the main
holds of the horseman in riding over fences, and, indeed,
in riding over a country in general, and these cannot be
applied with half their embracing force to the sides of the
horse, without the use of the stirrups: the experiment is
easily made ; and those who choose to take the trouble of
making it will not only perceive the evident utility of the
stirrup, but be fully convinced, that a short stirrup rather
than a long one, and the foot home in it, is, of all posi-
tions, that which enables the rider to embrace his horse
most firmly, and consequently is the most conducive to
his safety.

In speaking of short stirrups, it will be necessary to
define more particularly what I mean by the term; and
this I will endeavour to do, in language sufficiently clear,
so as to avoid, or prevent, even the possibility of miscon-
ception. The seat upon horseback may be compared to
the seat upon a common chair; and, therefore, for hunt-
ing, I would have the stirrup of that precise length as
would allow the rider to sit fairly upon the saddle: if,
for instance, it be taken up so short that it pushes or re-
moves the rider towards the cantle of the saddle (which
he will easily perceive on trying the experiment) it is then
too short ; but, while the rider can sit fairly down in the
saddle, I am of opinion the stirrup cannot be too short.

The instructions of riding masters are to keep the body
erect, with the shoulders well back, and the chest thrown
out : as general directions, these are correct enough ; but,
as in hunting, so many incidental or unforeseen cireum-
stances occur, these instructions, though kept in mind,
must be made subservient accordingly. Therefore, upon
the incidental irregularities which occur in hunting, I must
once more observe, that the rider must make his motions

AND AMERICAN

correspond with those of the horse, and by keeping this
maxim steadily in view, he will seldom be ata loss. It
sometimes happens that a steep bank opposes the sports-
man’s progress, which it is not possible to jump, (and
banks indeed present very frequently, awkward jumps,
even when jumping is practicable,) but every perfect.
hunter will make his way over such places, and the rider
must suit himself to the motion accordingly.

Riding to Hounds isa business where courage is regard-
ed as an indispensable qualification ; but, although I am
quite willing to allow to courage whatever may justly be
its due; yet it cannot be denied that getting well over a
country depends much more upon the judgment ; and he
that would be a good workman, must unite the two as
much as possible, never forgetting that the former ought
to depend on the latter :—‘‘ The better part of valour is
discretion. ”’

The pursuit of the fox was formerly a work of three
or four hours ; and frequently extended to a much greater
length of time. According to the modern system, the bu-
siness is generally completed in about an hour ; and the fox
is often killed, but more frequently lost, in half that time.
The old English hunter wasa large, heavy, powerful horse,
whose excellence consisted principally in his leaping or
jumping; and, in fact, it may be justly observed, that he was
very well calculated for the hounds which he had to follow;
but, with modern hounds, he would have been run out of
sight in a very few minutes. ‘ J¢ ts the pace which kills,”
an observation common enough in the mouth of a sports-
man ; one that merits the deepest consideration, and which
cannot do otherwise than carry conviction to every re-
flecting mind. If a horse be pressed, and continued but
only for a short time at the top of his rate, he becomes so
exhausted that he cannot clear his jumps ; and he thus en-
dangers his rider’s neck, to say nothing of losing the
sport; but, as far as relates to the old English hunter, as
the slowness of the pursuit allowed him to go within him-
self, or at his ease, so he was generally able to clear his
leaps ; and although he might not be able to gallop half as
fast as the modern hunter, he might perhaps be as good a
fencer, if not better, since even eart horses have been
known to clear enormous jumps.

In modern hunting, however, it is indispensable that
the horse should possess great speed, if his rider is to en-
joy the diversion ; and as the business of the chase is so
much more rapid than formerly, it requires more judg-
ment in the sportsman in riding to hounds ; yet, since no
blown horse can be trusted even at a moderate jump, the
necessity of keeping the horse’s wind in him must appear
so obvious as to need no further elucidation.

That the horse is as fond of the chase as the rider is eyi-

RURAL SPORTS. 75

dent, since his eye will be seen to sparkle with pleasure
the moment he perceives the preparations for hunting. A
horse, on his way to the place of meeting, will frequently
manifest the pleasure he feels by a variety of antics; and
when the hounds have been thrown into cover, and are
trying for a fox, his impatience for the run is evinced by
characteristic indications which are too clear and too ex-
pressive to be misunderstood. Nor under any other cir-
cumstances will a horse make the same desperate exer-
tions, as in following hounds. In the latter end of the
season of 1825, I had been hunting for a short time with
Sir H. Mainwaring’s hounds ; and, upon my return home,
was mounted upon a mare, which, from having been much
overworked, seemed scarcely able to go more than four
or five milesan hour. I had something more than twenty
miles to ride, and commenced my journey about nine
o’clock in the morning. Whitley Gorse, the fixture for
that day, for Sir H. Mainwaring’s hounds, lay in my road,
and as I proceeded, the hounds, with their attendant hunts-
man and whippers-in, overtook me. The mare perceived
the approach of the hounds, before I was aware of the
circumstance, and the first signal I received was her lifting
up behind so high and so unlooked for, that I was thrown
upon her neck. I accompanied the hounds to the cover,
which was within a few score yards of the road, and they
were no sooner thrown in than my mare manifested a de-
gree of impatience which I had not expected to experience
in her jaded state. In a few seconds, a fox was found ;—
he broke away in gallant style with the hounds at his brush,
and my mare testified so strong an inclination to follow,
that I indulged her. I was never better carried ; and after
a brilliant thing of one hour and five minutes, I witnessed
the death of the fox. I mention this merely to show what
that generous creature, the horse, will perform under such
an excitement as hunting.

Having noticed the impatience which the horse mani-
fests immediately prior to the run, it follows, as a necessa-
ry consequence, that, if this impatience be not judiciously
restrained and his powers properly used, he must be blown
very early in the run. The fact is, the commencement of
the run is the most difficult part of the business—it is that
which puts the judgment and skill of the rider to the se-
verest test ; and the horse should be so managed as te pre-
vent him from exhausting his strength in what may be
called the first burst, and yet keeping him well with the
hounds. Indeed, it appears to me that the horse goes much
more pleasantly to himself as well as to his rider, when
he has got what is called second wind ; and the same re-
mark is susceptible of a more extensive application.. The
fox gets second wind, the hounds get second wind, as well
as the horse, and the run, which up to this period might

76 THE CABINET OF

be considered as an impetuous dash, becomes steady, as it
were, and every thing proceeds with more regularity. At
the commencement of the run, however, young fiery spi-
rits are often as impetuous as their steeds, and, to say no-
thing of distressing their horses unnecessarily, sometimes
mar the sport by riding too forward, or amongst the hounds
—perhaps before them. When the hounds have found,
they should be suffered to go away with their fox, and get
well settled to the scent, without the least interruption—
(and yet how often have I witnessed the contrary, in defi-
ance of the entreaties, prayers, and ultimately of the deep
curses, of the huntsman.) Nor, indeed, after this period
should they be ridden too near or pressed by the sports-
man: there should always be a sufficient space between
the pack and the sportsmen for the hounds to turn; and,
indeed, the sportsman may he said to be sufficiently near
so long as he can distinctly observe the working of the
hounds. As I have already observed, a horse should be
restrained at the commencement of the run ; but it is the
judicious application of this restraint that renders it effec-
tive: horses shouid not be pulled about as they frequently
are by ignorant horsemen, since the remedy then becomes
as bad, if not worse, than the disease ; and for the proper
management of the horse at this juncture, good hands will
easily perform what nothing else can properly accomplish :
the sympathetic sensibility of the hand may be said to
give the rider a complete controul over the powers of his
horse, and this excellence can never be more beneficially
applied, than during the first maddening impetuosity of
the run :—and this, particularly, where the animal hap-
pens to be high spirited, or of a hot and fiery tempera-
ment. Horses of this disposition, like impetuous riders,
are anxious to lead ; and indeed, it must be admitted that
they go more pleasantly when placed in the front rank ;
and therefore, when such an enviable situation can be ob-
tained, it is advisable to occupy it. Unfortunately, this
taking the lead often produces injudicious, and indeed in-
jurious, rivalry ; inasmuch as sportsmen thus approach too
near the hounds, force them beyond the scent perhaps, and
create the most vexatious confusion. It is no wonder that
huntsmen are sometimes unable to restrain their temper
within due bounds.

- ON LEAPING.

The act of leaping or jumping requires more than ordi-
nary exertion in the horse ; and, of course, the extra exer-
tion will be regulated by the nature or extent, or both, of
the jump.

Generally speaking, I would advise sportsmen to avoid,
as much as possible, all jumps with stiff or unbending tops,
since, however perfect a horse may be, mistakes, or mis-

NATURAL HISTORY,

footings may occur ; and as an elastic or weak fence will
give way to the weight of a horse, so I consider it prefer-
able to a gate, style, rail, or wall. It is true, there are
many horses very clever at jumping timber and walls;
yet, for the reasons already stated, I should prefer the elas-
tic fence, and only put the horse’s abilities to the test in
regard to the former, where it appeared absolutely neces-
sary.

A horse indeed is sure to excel in that species of leap-
ing to which he has been the most accustomed. Brooks,
when the banks are sound, are no serious obstacles, unless
wider than the horse can cover; but the worst of brook-
jumping is, the banks are seldom to be depended on, and
hence serious accidents sometimes result—to the horse at
least, if not to the rider. If the bank happens to give way,
on the side from which the horse is taking his spring, he
is very liable to break his back or receive some serious or
incurable injury. If in crossing a brook, the sportsman
can contrive to put his horse at it where the banks slope
towards the water, he is more likely to get safe over, as
in such places, the banks are seldom undermined by the
action of the water—the hollow banks are, of course, the
most to be dreaded. In going ata brook, it is the most
advisable to put the horse very smartly and vigorously at
it; the same remark is equally applicable to a gate ; and
indeed any large and rasping leap. In regard to gates, I
honestly confess I am seldom disposed to jump one, where
I can conveniently open it ; and there are few horses that
will not, with alittle practice, become very handy at open-
ing gates.

In crossing a country, the sportsman should keep a look
out forward : as soon as he is over one fence, he should
cast his eye to the next, and direct his horse to the most
convenient spot to get over, consistently with keeping his
place.

As to the best mode of teaching a horse to leap, which
is intended for hunting, I have little hesitation in asserting
that the bar is of very little service. In the first instance,
I should feel no objection to put a young horse over the
bar, to teach him to bend his knees ; but, it is in the fields
where he must acquire a knowledge of his business ; and
on this account he should receive his instruction in the
fields. His lessons, however, should never-be unreasona-
bly extended, or he will become disgusted ; a horse seldom
jumps willingly unless after hounds. When a young horse
takes his exercise, he may be put over a few fences, and
this perhaps is the best way of imparting the necessary in-
struction.

ON THE SEAT WHEN LEAPING.

«¢ The place of the legs must be perpendicular from the
knee ; if you place them backwarder, the action which

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 77

the body must take, would loosen them, and then you
have no hold.’? Now, I am inclined to think, that the situ-
ation of the leg should not be exactly ‘perpendicular
from the knee,’ but gently inclining backwards, such a
position of the leg enabling the rider to make use of more
compressive or adhesive power, and consequently ena-
bling him to sit more closely and more firmly on the sad-
dle; nor have I the least doubt, that, if the reader will
take the trouble to try the experiment, he will find I am
borne out in such aconclusion. It is true, in a small or
ordinary leap, there is no necessity for any excess of ad-
hesive power, but when a rasper is to be got over, the ne-
cessary violence in the action of the horse is so great that
the firmest hold with the legs and thighs becomes indis-
pensable; and the position (of the legs) which I have
pointed out will be found to be that which is the best cal-
culated to accomplish the object with ease and safety both
to the horse and rider.

Young riders can scarcely be induced to lean the body
backward enough when the horse has taken his spring,
and for this very reason they cannot preserve a motion in
consonance or correspondence with that of the horse, and
the consequence is, that their seat becomes disordered or
disturbed ; they are thrown forward and sometimes com-
pletely unhorsed. They should lean freely and fearlessly
backward ; since they may rest assured, it is not possible
for them to overshoot the mark or lean too much back-
ward.

Experienced sportsmen, in leaping, frequently elevate.

the whip hand as the horse is descending, a practice which
the professed riding master will by no means tolerate. Ac-
cording to the doctrine of the riding master, the body
should be kept square and the whip hand low, as (says he)
if the whip hand be raised, the body of the rider must be
pulled out of the square, and the balance destroyed. So
far it may be said to be all very well ; but yet it will scarce-
ly, I think, bear the test of examination. When the horse
has taken his spring, and is descending or coming to the
ground, the left or bridle hand is necessarily drawn for-
ward ; and if, at the same moment, the whip hand be ele-
vated and thrown back, the balance at least of the body is
preserved, however it may be drawn out of the square.
And here it may be very justly observed, that some horses,
when descending, bring their noses lower than others, and
these consequently require the accommodation of the bri-
dle hand to a greater extent. In the season of 1824-5, I
rode a fine grey mare, that in descending brought her nose
very low indeed, and consequently was apt to pull a strange
rider out of his seat. Some months before she came into
my possession, a gentleman’s huntsman (a youth) mounted
her for the purpose of following his harriers, but she, in

leaping, pulled him over her head ; and though this lad at-
tempted to ride her several times, he never completely
succeeded in accommodating her peculiar mode of bring-
ing down her nose. Nevertheless, she was not difficult to
ride, and, as a hunter, never perhaps had a superior.

If, however, I feel no disposition to censure the practice
of elevating and throwing back the whip hand in the leap,
there is another purpose to which I have sometimes seen
the same hand applied, in the same operation of the horse,
which cannot be too severely censured : I allude to taking
hold of the cantle of the saddle, a method which some few
sportsmen adopt, either from ignorance, fear, awkward-
ness, or from some other motive equally reprehensible. —
To say nothing of the unsightly appearance which such a
position presents, the object of the rider is frustrated by
the very means which he puts in practice to accomplish it.
Taking hold of the cantle of the saddle with the whip hand,
renders it impossible for the rider to make use of his bri-
dle hand in a proper manner ; consequently he endangers
the safety of the horse, and renders his own seat as inse-
cure as possible. A person who adopts this highly injudi-
cious method of riding, is constantly exposed to serious
accidents.

A good sportsman will, as often as possible, ride parallel
with the pack ; not after them, unless, by short turns, he
is obliged to do otherwise ; by which means he can see
every thing that is going on, and anticipate the probable
cause of hounds coming to a fault: and I believe a good
huntsman and.a minute observer, will, twice out of three
times, discover the object in the line of the hounds that
caused it, and, as soon as he suspects it, pull up his horse :
for instance, a church, a village, a farm-house, a team at
plough, men at work, sheep, and, above all, cattle, are the
things most likely to impede the scent : (be it remember-
ed, that the breath of one cow will distract hounds more
than a hundred sheep :) when any of these objects present
themselves in the face of the hounds, you may then anti-
cipate a stop ; and by pulling up your horse, and observing
which way the pack inclined before the check, you will
be able (without casting) to hold them to the right or left
accordingly. .

Every person should, if possible, take his place and keep
it; and after the bustle of the first five minutes every thing
assumes a degree of regularity, of which before it was not
susceptible.

In a fair country, and hounds in condition, it is my
Opinion, that if the above observations could be carried
into effect, few foxes would escape. Patience is the best
performer in the chase! All hounds in these times are
well enough bred, and all hounds have power enough to
kill their fox. ; ‘

78 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

NOTES OF A NATURALIST.
BY JACOB GREEN, M. D.

PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY IN JEFFERSON COLLEGE.
Our Village.-—Music of Birds, §c.

In the country, the early morning hours, and those of
closing day, are peculiarly interesting to the naturalist.
When rosy morning first appears, all around seems fresh
and unsullied; and in the spring and summer months the
air is peculiarly invigorating and elastic. very one who
delights in the music of nature, must listen,

When the song of the grove hails the rising of day.

The fresh fragrance of the fields and gardens, and the
cheerful carolling of our tuneful birds, cannot fail to be
grateful to the senses, and to be perfectly in unison with
the feelings and sentiments of every well-regulated mind.

It was a strange and wild theory of Buffon, to say the
least of it, that men and other animals degenerated in the
climate of America. Among the examples which he
brings forward in support of this notion, is our sweet
Wood Thrush, (Z: Melodius,) which he imagines to be
the same species of bird as the Song Thrush, (7. Musicus, )
of Europe. Our Thrush he then represents as destitute of
any note but a single scream, having so far degenerated by
food and climate from his progenitors in Europe, as now
to utter nothing but harsh and unpleasant sounds, like the
cries, he says, of all birds that live in wild countries inha-
bited by savages. There is more poetry than natural his-
tory in all this. Who, that has devoted any attention to
this subject, does not know, that the lonely exile in the
unfrequented and dreary forests of Siberia and Lapland, is
often cheered with the music of the Grosbeak; or that the
cannibal of New-Zealand, reposing in his wigwam, may
hear the mellow song of many warblers of the night?
With regard to the Wood Thrush, Wilson refutes the fan-
ciful theory of Buffon, by giving us a beautiful description
of its habits and song. After remarking that the voice,
energy, and expression, of birds of the same species, dif-
fer as widely from each other, as the voices of different in-
dividuals of the human race, he observes of the Wood
Thrush: ‘I remember one, whose notes! could instantly
recognize on entering the woods, and with whom IJ had
been, as it were, acquainted from his first arrival. The
top of a large white oak, that overhung part of the glen,
was usually the favourite pinnacle from whence he poured
the sweetest melody, to which I have frequently listened,
till night began to gather in the woods, and the fire-flies
to sparkle among the branches.”’ This sweet and solitary
songster arrives in Pennsylvania about the latter end of

April, and soon announces his presence. ‘¢ With the
dawn of the succeeding morning, mounting to the top of
some tall tree, that rises from a low, thick shaded part of
the woods, he pipes his few clear and musical notes in a
kind of ecstacy, the prelude, or symphony to which,
strongly resembles the double tongueing of a German
flute, and sometimes the tinkling of a small bell; the
whole song consists of five or six parts, the last note of
each of which is in such a tone, as to leave the conclusion
evidently suspended; the finale is finely managed, and with
such charming effect, as to soothe and tranquillize the
mind, and to seem sweeter and mellower at each successive
repetition. During the burning heat of the day he is com-
paratively mute; but in the evening the same melody is re-
newed, and continued long after sun-set. Even in dark,
wet, and gloomy weather, when scarce a single chirp is
heard from any other bird, the clear notes of the Wood
Thrush thrill through the drooping woods from morning
to night, and it may be truly said that the sadder the day
the sweeter is his song.” Every school-boy in the village
who rambles. over our woody hills, and along the margin
of the creek, on Saturday afternoon, can testify to the truth
of this beautiful description. The clear, mellow, flute-
like notes of the Wood Thrush, always recall to my mind
many interesting little adventures,—a thousand pleasing
scenes and youthful sportsin by-gone days; some of which
I must be indulged in here repeating. A great portion of
my holyday pastime, when at boarding-school, at Prince-
ton, in New-Jersey, was passed with my hook and line,
on the margin of Stony brook, not very far from the spot
where the gallant Mercer fell during our revolutionary con-
flict. The quiet and retired situation of this gentle stream,
the romantic and uncultivated solitudes by which it was
then surrounded, and the marvellous adventures with the
Indians, which are aaid to have happened along its peace-
ful banks in the early periods of American history, ren-
dered the brook, as we used to call it, an oft-frequented
and a deeply interesting place of resort. A considerable
stretch of the stream passed through the estate of my grand-
father, where I usually passed my holyday time, in joyous,
unrestrained, and 1 hope innocent revelry. As I have al-
ways experienced an uncontrollable antipathy to strange
dogs, whether

Mongrel, puppy, whelp, or hound,
Or curs of low degree,

for this reason, I rarely ever crossed the boundaries of
the estate; but I could wander in these extensive and se-
cluded retreats, without fear of molestation from any quar-
ter. When the mowers were to be engaged in the neigh-
bouring meadow; when the boys drove the cattle into these

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

pastures, distant from the family mansion; or when the
woodman spent the day in the forest, preparing for our
winter’s fire, I followed in their train as far as this delight-
ful spot. Then, while stealing alone along the borders of
the bubbling brook, would I start up the little noisy bittern,
whose protracted scream filled the forest with its echoes;
the lazy tortoise, basking in the sunshine on the mossy
rocks, alarmed, would slide into the smooth water; or the
piping frog, hopping among the weeds, along the impend-
ing bank, would dash headlong into the stream, at my ap-
proach. Here, for hours, haye I reposed on some fallen
tree—my little red cork floating before me in the water—
waiting patiently for some ‘glorious nibble.”? It was on
such occasions, when the solemn stillness was only inter-
rupted by the monotonous chirpings of the insects in the
tall grass, the drowsy tinklings of the bells on the cattle,
or the hollow, remote sound of the woodman’s axe, that I
remember first to have listened to the sweet song of the
Wood Thrush. ‘‘ The time has long past, and the scene
is afar,” but at this moment his notes seem to echo in my
ear, and rise in my memory like the music of Carril. [
will close this digression, by copying from an old manu-
script some stanzas, suggested to my mind by his peculiar
habits and his remarkable song.

THE WOOD THRUSH.

When bright Aurora gilds the morn,
And music bursts from brake and bush,
And lofty oak, and lowly thorn;
Oh then is heard the thrilling Thrush.

He, from some branching, aged tree,
The early breeze with rapture fills,

The joyous notes sweep o’er the lea,
And echo from the grassy hills.

The plough-boy blithe at peep of dawn,
Whistling along his wonted way,

Now pauses on the dewy lawn, ;
To catch the warblings of his lay.

But when the sun in glowing car

Rolls glittering o’er the panting plain,
Then deep in shadowy glens afar,

He whispers there a lonely strain.

But at pale evening’s pensive hush,

When the gay glow-worm trims his lamp,
Again is heard the thrilling Thrush

In dewy dells and vallies damp.

There is another species of Thrush, which we used to
eall the Thrasher, (T. rufus.) which appears to be much
more numerous, andis certainly better known than the one
just noticed. It is often domesticated as a cage-bird,

79

and his song is, to my taste at least, far superior to
that of the ever-varying Mocking-bird.

As I have attempted to give a sketch of the scenery
where the Wood Thrush is commonly found, I will now
notice an assemblage of circumstances, always connected
in my mind with the song of the Brown Thrasher, or as
he is sometimes called, the Virginia Mocking-bird.

Though the days of my boyhood were principally passed
in a large city, there was a beautiful spot in the neighbour-
hood, called Rose Hill, where I spent some of my happi-
est hours. This spot was distinguished for its rural scenery;
a fine green lawn sloped gently in front of the mansion-
house; and clumps of trees, hedges of briar and hawthorn,
and parterres of flowers, tastefully arranged through the
pleasure-grounds, all combined to render it highly pictur-
esque, beautiful, and enchanting to my youthful imagina-
tion. There were two large griffins, or huge china dogs, in
the shrubbery on the lawn, to which I became wonderfully
attached. It was while stretched on the grass, near one of
these figures, watching the graceful motions of my kite
floating high up in the clear blue sky, that the music of the
grove fell with peculiar rapture on my ear. The rapid war-
bling of the social little house wren, there mingled with
the notes of the robin, and numberless other songsters;
some in the branches over my head, and others in remote
thickets. Above all, the loud and cheerful song of the
Brown Thrush could be heard; the whole chorus produced
‘¢a soul-soothing and almost heavenly music, breathing
peace, innocence, and mental repose.’? My fancy’s eye
can now discover this Thrush pouring forth his melody
from the summit of an apple or a cherry tree, or the tops
of the hedge-rows, and then, as if in modesty, plunge into
the thick bushes, his long and graceful tail-feathers being
spread out like a lady’s fan.

I visited this sequestered spot a short time since; and
found it, alas, how changed. The venerated friends of my
childhood have long been gathered to their pious ances-
tors. The once hospitable and elegant mansion was now
silent, dilapidated, and forsaken. The public highway
now passed over the lawn; a vulgar substantial bridge
crossed the little stream, instead of the light rural frame-
work, near which I used to angle, and some ragged, roys-
terous, ill-favoured urchins, appeared to be the only inha-
bitants of this retreat, once the abode of so much refine-
ment, domestic comfort, and literary seclusion.

It has been observed that there is something peculiarly
remarkable in the adaptation of the music of birds to the
human ear; quadrupeds seem to derive no pleasure from
it; and birds themselves, of different species, notice but
little the warblings of each other. Their various cries, or
screams of. distress and alarm, seem to be quickly under-

80 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

stood by all. Many a time have I been assailed by all the
birds in the neighbourhood darting out of the bushes, and
from the trees, in consequence of the shrieks of a young
robin, which I have been endeavouring to place beyond
the reach of a cat. To give another instance. While
sitting at the door of a farm-house, in the vicinity of our
village, just as the shades of evening began to gather; the
birds were all hymning their little vespers, and the domestic
fowls, one after another, were settling on the low branches
of the treesfor the night—when suddenly a dead pause in all
these sounds and motions occurred; this was quickly suc-
ceeded by loud and various screams of alarm from every
quarter. The smaller birds dashed into the briars and bushes
for safety, and the domestic fowls dropped suddenly from
the trees; some concealing themselves under the fences,
while others cowered and trembled close to my very feet.
The cause of all this hurry and alarm, was a prowling
hawk, that swept swiftly over the spot, and had made a
fruitless attempt to seize with his talons one of the chick-
ens on the outermost limbs of a neighbouring tree. These
examples will be sufficient to prove that the cries of one
species are understood and attended to by other species.
Whatever may be the truth with regard to musical sounds,
it seems to be certain that the language of fear, or note
of alarm, is universally comprehended by all the feathered
tribes.

Singing birds are undoubtedly, for the most part, found
near the habitations of man, and commonly follow in the
track of cultivation. This is in part owing to the protec-
tion which he affords, and the greater facility in obtaining
food. In the extensive deserts of land, or of ocean, their
warblings, I think, are never heard. The Peterel, which
is found far out on the sea, in almost every latitude, utters
nothing but a monotonous squeak; yet I must confess that
his notes to my ear were not disagreeable. I will close
these desultory remarks, with an extract from my journal
kept at sea, and which relates to this curious bird.

“April 24. 1 was very much interested to-day in obsery-
ing the-habits of a little bird, which keeps principally in
the wake of our ship, no doubt to pick up any aliment
which may be thrown over-board. This bird is the Stormy
Peterel, or Procellaria Wilsonii. It is called Peterel, from
the Apostle Peter, because it s¢ems to walk on the surface
of the water. For hours I have stood at the taffrail, watch-
ing the motions of hundreds of these birds; some of them
skimming gracefully over the surface of the waves, and
curiously preserving the same ever-varying curves; some
climbing up the hills of water, and others, in clusters, ap-
parently at rest round an article of food. The sailors are
very superstitious with regard to these birds, which they
call Mother Cary’s chickens, probably after some old witch

or fortune-teller of that name. It is supposed by many
that the Peterel, as it is seen in almost every part of the
ocean, lives on the water entirely, and hatches its eggs
under its wings. There is, of course, no truth in this opin-
ion. It is surprising, however, what a length of time
they continue on the wing; they have been the last ob-
jects which the darkness of the night concealed, and the
first which the morning dawn enabled me to discover.
They utter a low note, something like weet, weet, which
is quite audible when they are near the ship. This some
of the sailors translate into wet, wet, and say that it indi-
cates stormy weather. It is generally supposed that the
same species of Peterel inhabits both the European and
American portions of the Atlantic. There are, however,
two species. That which sweeps over the vast range of the
European ocean is called the Pelagic Peterel, and that
which inhabits the American Atlantic is called Wilson’s
Peterel, after our own great ornithologist. There is no
one perhaps who crosses the ocean, but must feel indebted
to these interesting little wanderers of the deep for many
hours of amusement. At sea every thing, which tends to
break the dreadful monotony of the wide waste of water
and sky, amuses the mind. From the peculiar habits and
the superstitious notions entertained by many with regard
to the Peterel, it might suggest to the imaginative some fine
fancyings; but with the exception of two or three allusions,
it seems to have been entirely overlooked by the poet.
The following lines served to amuse a tedious, and what
would have otherwise been an unoccupied hour.

THE PETEREL.

What airy forms are on the deep ?
Now dancing on her heaving breast,

Now sinking with the surge’s sweep,
Now rising on its snowy crest.

*Tis th’ stormy Peterel, ocean ranger,

Warning the sea-boy of his danger.

” Ere moming rises from the sea,
Their ceaseless gambols they begin,
And the pale evening’s fitful breeze,
Still wafts them in their wandering.
Oh speak not to me, thou phantom bird,
Of rocks unseen and of storms unheard.

Whether in sunshine or in storms,
These sports mysterious they pursue,
Still I behold their fairy forms,
Flitting amidst the briny dew.
Oh speak not to me, thou phantom bird,
Of rocks unseen and of storms unheard.

The live long day I’ve stood to gaze,
Marking these spectres of the sea,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Glancing in many a giddy maze,

O’er the green waters, merrily,
Speak not to me, thou bird of the billow,
Of a coral bed and wavy pillow.

Through the wide ocean’s vast expanse,
Where e’er the billow bursts in foam,
These spectre birds lead on the dance,
And find in every wave a home.
False Peterel farewell, thy tale’s untrue,
Danger is past—our port is in view.

HABITS AND MANNERS OF A FEMALE BORNEO ORANG-
UTAN, AND A MALE CHIMPANZEE.

By J. E. Warwick.

Tue great interest and curiosity excited by the recent
exhibition of the Chimpanzee and the Borneo Orang-
Utan; and a suggestion which has been made to me, that
the opportunity I possessed of being constantly with them
should be made productive of some result, have induced
me to mark and note down the manners and dispositions
of these interesting specimens of the animal kingdom; and
I now submit the following, in the hope that it may be
acceptable to many of your readers, very few of whom,
probably, have ever seen the animals whose singular ha-
bits I am here attempting to describe.

On the first sight of the two specimens, the difference
was so remarkable as almost to excite a doubt whether
they belonged to the same genus. The most striking
points of distinction were the length of the facial angle in
the female, or Borneo Orang (Simia Styrus;) the singular
smallness of the ear, and its close resemblance to that of
the human species; the pear-shaped head; the nose but in
a slight degree elevated; the nostrils narrow and oblique;
the extreme length of the arms, the use made of them in
walking, the animal resting the hands on the ground, and
swinging as if on crutches; the hair of a reddish brown,
very short, and but slightly scattered over the body; the
abdomen exceedingly protuberant; the feet long, with the
largest toe peculiarly short, but exhibiting a perfect nail;
these were the striking peculiarities on the first sight of
the female; while the Chimpanzee (Simia Troglédytes)
exhibited a marked contrast in the general character of
its form, presenting a much nearer approach to that of the
human race. Its conformation comprises all those points
of resemblance which characterise the Orang-Utan, be-
sides other instances of approximation which in that ani-
mal are not observable. The form of the head, the intel-
lectual superiority that distinguishes the cast of the fea-
tures; the proportionate length of arm to that of the body;
the larger and perfect thumb; the roundness of the thigh;

x

81

the perfect feet, and the consequent upright mode of
walking; the complete formation of the last joint of the
great toe; the quality of the sounds which it occasionally
utters;—all these are points which at once strike the
observer, denoting the superiority of the Chimpanzee
over the Borneo Orang-Utan, as well as the widely differ-
ent characters that distinguish them.

I must here confess myself unable to give you a scienti-
fic description of the animal: it is simply my intention to
detail some of those peculiarities and habits, which few
but myself have had an opportunity of observing.

On the occasion of their introduction to each other, it
was curious to notice in what way they would act; not
having seen any of their class for many months, and being
so distinct in character, and natives of different quarters of
the globe. On their being placed on the floor together in
a private apartment, they stood at some distance from each
other, resting on their knuckles, in evident contempla-
tion of the new form they now saw for the first time.
They then approached nearer, smelling each other very
sensibly; the female protruded her prominent lower
lip, touching the lip of the male, but without any smack or
noise. This was done apparently without any expression
of joy or mutual attachment, but merely as an act of re-
cognition of two of the same tribe meeting in a foreign
land; nor was I ever afterwards able to discover the least
sign of tenderness or attachment to each other; but, on the
contrary, a decided inclination to keep aloof, especially on
the part of the female, whose timidity allowed the male to
take from her hands any dainty that might have been
given to her, with great reluctance on her part, but with
evident fear of repelling the insult. On the experiment
being tried of forcing them to sleep in the same cage, a
battle took place, of which it was not afterwards deemed
advisable to risk a repetition.

The companionable and sociable habits of the Chimpan-
zee far exceeded those of the female, as did his knowledge
of persons whom he was in the habit of seeing. On first
approaching him on a morning, or after being absent from
him a short time, he would utter a loud ery of recognition;
and, running towards you,* would stand perfectly erect,
spreading his arms to be taken up, when he would put
them round your neck in the manner of the fondest em-
brace; nor was it an easy task, for those to whom he was
attached, to leave the room, except by stealth. Food, on
the other hand, was the only object that would cause any
attachment, or even locomotion, in the female; of whom
it might be said, that her appetite was the mainspring of
all her actions, to which a protuberance and rotundity
bore ample testimony. In feeding, the greediness of the
female was evinced by her laying her body over the dish,

82 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

securing the choicest morsels both with hands and feet,
and then feeding with her mouth in the dish, using her
lips in the manner of the horse, and evincing the greatest
fear lest any portion should be taken from her; while the
Chimpanzee sat perfectly upright, taking small portions
gracefully between his thumb and forefinger, in the most
placid and gentle manner; nor was his rage ever excited
except by refusing him a part of an orange, of which he
might have caught a glimpse, or that he knew (which he
evidently did by the smell) was contained in your pocket.

Neither of these animals ever secured portions of food in -

the cheek or pouch; nor did they appear to smell their
food before eating, as most of the monkeys do, except it
was some uncommon substance which they had not been
accustomed to eat. Both were in the habit of using a
glass in drinking, but they were never known to throw it
down; they invariably either gave it back, or set it down
in the most careful manner. The Chimpanzee, in parti-
cular, was attracted by the brilliancy of colours, always
getting up on the approach of any female whose dress was
distinguished by the gaiety of its hues.

He likewise evinced great joy in being placed at a win-

dow, and would utter a scream of delight at the passing of
horses and carriages; but nothing could exceed his rage
when placed in a confined cage. He would then stand
erect, crying, and shaking the bars with all his strength,
until he obtained his release, when he would immediately
fly to the arms of his liberator; and, such was his love of
the society of those he knew, that the temptation of the
choicest fruits would not entice him to remain in the room
alone; for, if at liberty he would run towards the door,
and try to get out first, or would embrace your knees, and
ery in the most piteous manner to be taken with you.
During the whole time they were together, I never knew
them attempt the least gambol or amusement of any kind,
either together or individually; nor did they take any no-
tice of other animals, as cals. monkeys, squirrels, &c.,
that were placed with them; but would sit for hours with
the utmost gravity, as if absorbed in the most intense
thought. At other times the male would examine your
person, pockets, and hands, with the most minute atten-
tion. Confinement seemed to be the most dreaded punish-
ment; and, when threatened with that, he would cling to
any one present for protection; and, at night, actual force
was required to confine him to his bed, the female gene-
rally retiring of her own accord many hours before him.
When called to by name, (Buck,) he generally answered
with a short cry, putting out his hands to be taken up.
The instinct of providing and placing warm materials
for her bed was the most marked in the female, who
would be engaged for two hours at a time in dragging

blankets from various parts of the room, smoothing and
changing their position, and beating any raised part down
with her knuckles; assuming at the same time a look of
gravity and an appearance of wisdom. This capacity of
providing and preparing a nightly lodging, seemed to be
almost extinct in the Chimpanzee, possibly from his so-
ciality and confidence in man, as he took no care in this
particular; but if no place were provided for him, and,
even when provided, if he did not like it, he would climb
into the bed of his keeper. The timidity of both animals
was remarkable, they being exceedingly alarmed even at
inanimate objects; a toy-dog, or a cast of one of their own
species, that was in the room, if removed the least towards
them, was sufficient to drive them to the farthest extremity
of the apartment, in ¢hezr most nimble, though not very
quick pace; and the fear exhibited by the female, at the

sight of her deadly enemy, a boa constrictor, was most -

acutely evinced. It would appear as if they had not the
power of distinguishing between the real and artificial, as
a toy-snake shown to her produced the same results.

The hearing of both animals was remarkably acute,
catching the most indistinct noise at a considerable dis-
tance; and their knowledge of sounds was accurately
shown; as, on hearing the footsteps, on the stairs, of per-
sons with whom they were acquainted, they ran towards
the door before it was opened.

They were in the daily habit of riding in a coach, and
on being seated, before the vehicle moved, they would se-
cure themselves by getting a firm grasp of the Sol suieips
attached to the side of the coach.

It would seem that they had some knowledge of time;
for, as the hour approached at which they were removed
to their nightly residence, they would of their own accord
get the blankets, and enfold themselves, in readiness to
depart; and if their removal were protracted beyond the
usual time, it required force to prevent them from going
to the door. The Chimpanzee having caught a cold,
which ultimately caused his death, he had a felent cough,
that in sound was remarkably human; and as, when a fit
of coughing came on, he was usually given some sweet-
meat or cordial to stop it, he soon adopted the cough as a
mode of obtaining those additional luxuries.

Nothing more evinced the impression which the ap-
pearance of the two animals made upon the persons who
saw them, than the exclamation that usually followed the
first sight of them. The universal cry on seeing the
Chimpanzee, was, “‘ What a nice little fellow!” or,
‘¢ What a little darling!” while his less favoured partner,
although of the softer sex, was generally saluted with,
‘¢What a disgusting beast!” &c. During his illness, his
pitiable looks and evident sufferings, with his placidity and

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 83

gentle habits, endeared him to all who saw him: and
hen he could no longer swallow food, the quiet manner
of putting the hand that offered it on one side, and uttering
a peculiarly mournful ery, was painfully touching. When
bled, he evinced not the least alarm or uneasiness, but put
out his forefinger to touch the blood that was trickling
from his arm; he even allowed a blister on the chest to re-
main, after having been scolded once or twice for attempt-
ing to remove it.

Without placing entire credence, then, in the many
wonderful tales related of these animals, enough has sure-
ly been said to excite our curiosity and interest, and even
to awaken our admiration Mag. Nat. Hist.

ON PRESERVING INSECTS SELECTED FOR CABINETS.

By C. Waterton.

I onty know of two methods to guard prepared insects
from the depredation of living ones. The first is, by poi-
soning the atmosphere; the second is, by poisoning the
preserved specimens themselves, so effectually that they
are no longer food for the depredator. But there are
some objections to both these modes. A poisoned atmos-
phere will evaporate in time, if not attended to, or if ne-
glected to be renewed; and there is great difficulty in poi-
soning some specimens on account of their delicacy and
minuteness. If you keep spirits of turpentine in the
boxes which contain your preserved specimens, J am of
opinion that those specimens will be safe as long as the
odour of turpentine remains in the box; for it is said
to be the most pernicious of all scents to insects. But
it requires attention to keep up an atmosphere of spi-
rit of turpentine. Ifit be allowed to evaporate entirely,
then there is a clear and undisputed path open to the in-
roads of the enemy: he will take advantage of your ab-
sence or neglect; and when you return to view your trea-
sure you will findit in ruins. Spirits of turpentine, poured
intoa common glass inkstand, in which there is a piece of
sponge, and placed in a corner of your box, will create a
poisoned atmosphere, and kill every insect there. The
poisoning of your specimens, by means of corrosive subli-
mate in alcohol is a most effectual method. As soon as
the operation is properly performed, the depredating in-
sect perceives that the prepared specimen is no longer
food for it, and will for ever cease to attackit. But, then,
every part must have received the poison; otherwise those
parts where the poison has not reached will still be ex-
posed to the enemy; and he will pass unhurt over the poi-

soned parts, till he arrive at that part of your specimen
which is still wholesome food for him. Now, the diff-
culty lies in applying the solution to very minute speci-
mens, without injuring their appearance; and all that can
be said is, to recommend unwearied exertion, which is
sure to be attended with great skill, and great skill will
insure surprising success. The result has been astonishing
success, and a perfect conviction that there is no absolute
and lasting safety for prepared specimens in zoology from
the depredations of insects, except by poisoning every
part of them with a solution of corrosive sublimate in al-
cohol. I put a good large teaspoonful of well pounded
corrosive sublimate into a wine-bottle full of aleohol. I
let it stand over night, and the next morning draw it off
into a clean bottle. When I apply it to black substances,
and perceive that it leaves little white particles on them,
I then make it weaker by adding alcohol. A black feather,
dipped into the solution, and then dried, will be a very
good test of the state of the solution. Ifit be too pee!
it will leave a whiteness upon the feather.

A preparation of arsenic is frequently used; but it is very
dangerous, and sometimes attended with lamentable con-
sequences. I knew a naturalist, by name Howe, in Cay-
enne, in French Guiana, who had lost sixteen of his
teeth. He kept them in a box, and showed them to me.
On opening the lid:—‘‘ These fine teeth,”’ said he, *‘ once
belonged to my jaws; they all dropped out by my making
use of the savon arsenetique for preserving the skins of
animals. I take this opportunity of remarking that it is
my firm conviction, that the arsenetical soap can never
be used with any success, if you wish to restore the true
form and figure to askin.

I fear that your correspondent may make use of tight
boxes and aromatic atmospheres, and still, in the end, not
be completely successful in preserving his specimens from
the depredation of insects. The tight box and aromatic
atmosphere will certainly doa great deal for him; but they
are liable to fail, for this obvious reason, viz. that they do
not render, for ever, absolutely baneful and abhorrent to
the depredator, that which in itself is nutritious and grate-
ful to him. In an evil hour, through neglect in keeping
up a poisoned atmosphere, the specimens collected by
your correspondent’s industry, and prepared by his art,
and which ought to live, as it were, for the admiration of
future ages, may fall a prey to an intruding and almost in-
visible enemy: so that, unless he apply the solution of cor-
rosive sublimate in alcohol, he is never perfectly safe from
a surprise. Ihave tried a decoction of aloes, wormwood,
and walnut leaves, thinking they would be of service, on
account of their bitterness. The trial completely failed.

[2

84 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AN ATTEMPT TO NATURALIZE.THE VIRGI-
NIAN PARTRIDGE IN ENGLAND.

A Few years ago I purchased two brace of these elegant
little birds from Mr. Cross, of Exeter Change, London, and
brought them home with me in the coach. I have a small
garden, walled round and covered over with wire, into
which I turned them, but each brace separated from the
other by a wire partition. Towards the latter end of May
I perceived one of the cock birds carrying straws, and
twisting them about over his head; and I found they were
making a nest within a bundle of pea-sticks, which were
placed in the garden for them to run under and hide them-
selves.

This nest was the joint production of male and female;
it was placed on the ground within the pea-sticks, and
shaped much like a wren’s, with a hole on one side, and
covered over attop. After the hen had laid about twelve
eggs she began to sit, and with as much assiduity as our
common hen. When I thought it was her time to hatch
I examined the nest, and found it deserted, and the egg-
shells, which had evidently contained young birds, lying
about. Much pleased with this circumstance, I went cau-
tiously about to find the dam with her little ones, and,
after searching a considerable time, the first intimation I
had of her presence was from her flying in my face with
great agitation, like our common hen. I retired much
gratified, and observed the young ones, nine in number,
collect again under the wings of their mother. The assi-
duity of this excellent parent was truly exemplary,
and her attention unremitting, and she reared them
all with very little trouble. What is very singular,
there were eight cocks and but one hen, all of whom
were reared till they moulted, and got their adult plum-
age; when, from some cause which I could never as-
certain, they began to droop one after another, and before
Christmas all the young birds died. Though I examined
the stomachs and gizzards of most of them, yet I never
could find out the cause of their deaths; but [ have little
doubt of its being some deleterious substance picked up in
the place where I separated them from the old ones, soon
after they became full-fledged, as the old birds escaped
this mortality, and the cock-bird is now_living, (October,
1830.)

The other pair never bred, but it was easily accounted
for, as the hen was unwell from the first time I turned
them down, and she lingered on to October, and then died.

Previously to and during the time the hen was sitting
the cock serenaded her with his harsh and singular notes,
some of them very similar to the mewing of acat. He

had alsoa peculiarity of constantly running round in a cir-
cle, till the ground whereon he performed his evolutions
was worn as bare as a road, and the turf trodden down
much in the same way as it is by the ruff in the fens dur-
ing the season of incubation.

Nothing could be more cordial and harmonious than this
happy family. When the shades of evening approached,
they crowded together in a circle on the ground, and pre-
pared for the slumbers of the night by placing their tails
all together with their pretty mottled chins facing to the
front in a watchful round-robin.

When food was thrown in for them, which consisted
chiefly of spirted barley and wheat, and occasionally
bread, the male bird would peck at the grain, but not eat
any himself until he had called his family around him, first
to partake of the food; which he did with many soft blan--
dishments, and with much strutting and spreading of the
wings and. tail. ;

I was much disappointed at the loss of this interesting
family; and I waited with some impatience for the result
of another season. The season at length arrived: they
built their nest again as usual; the hen laid about sixteen
eggs; when, to my great mortification, just as she had be-
gun to sit, I found her dead one morning, and can no
otherwise account for the circumstance than by supposing
that something must have frightened her in the night, and
caused her to fly up with violence against the wires,
which proved fatal to her. ‘Thus ended my hopes of do-
mesticating this elegant little bird, as I have never been
able to procure another female; though I have applied in
London for that purpose. The guard of a coach informed
me that he had the care of a basket of these birds by his
coach; that they all, by some accident, got out and flew
away; and that in the part of the country where they
made their escape (which I have now forgotten) they had
bred and increased exceedingly. I havealso heard of their
doing well in some parts of the south of this kingdom. I
know that a quantity were turned down upon the large de-
mesne of Edward John Littleton, Esq. M. P., at Teddes-
ley, in Staffordshire, and that they did not breed at all,
but straggled away, and some of them were shot ten or
fifteen miles from his estate.

I should feel much obliged by any of your correspon-
dents informing me where I could procure some living
specimens of this bird, as I should much wish to breed
some more, and turn them out, if I became successful, as
they lay many eggs, and are much more easily reared
than either pheasants or partridges.

J.C.

Staffordshire, October, 1830. [Z.

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AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 85

SPOTTED GROUS.
TETRAO CANADENSIS.
[Prare VIII. Vol. 3.—half size. ]

Fetrao Canadensis, Cu. Bonapartr’s American Orni-
thology, Vol. 111. p. 47, pl. xxt.—Liwnn, Syst. 1. p. 207.
sp. 3.—Gmex. Syst. 1. p. 749, sp. 3.—Latu. Ind. p.
637, sp. 6.—Forster, in Phil. Trans. ux. p. 389.—
Temm. Ind. Gall. in Hist. Pig. et Gall. 11. p. 702.—
Viet. Novio. Dict. Hist. Nat.—Sasine, Zool. app.
Frank. Exp. p. 683.—Nos. Cat. birds, U. 8. sp. 207.
Ip. Syn. Birds, U. S. sp. 108.

Lagopus Bonasa Frett Hudsonis, Briss. Orn. 1. p.
201. sp. 6.— Kuan. 4v. p. 117, sp. 6.—La Gelinotte du
Canada, Burr. Otis. un. p. 279.— Black and Spotted
Heath Cock, Exw. Glean.p. 71, pl. 118.—Brown and
Spotted Heath Cock, Exuus. Hudson Bay, t. t. p. 50.

Spotted Grous, Penn. 4rct. Zool. sp. 182, Lara. Syn.
Iv. p. 735, sp. 6. In Suppl. p. 214.—The small
Speckled Pheasant, Lewis and Cuarx Exp. 1. p. 182.
—Philadelphia Museum.

‘¢ Tue Spotted Grous,’? says M. Bonaparte, ‘‘is well
characterized by its much rounded tail of but sixteen
broad and rounded feathers, and may be at once distin-
guished from all others by the large and conspicuous
white spots, ornamenting the breast, flanks, and under
tail-coverts.

“Tt has been inaccurately compared with the European
Tetrao bonasia, from which it differs very materially, not
even being of the same subgenus, and approaching nearer,
if indeed it can be compared with any, to the Tetrao
urogallus.

‘¢This bird is common at Hudson’s Bay throughout
the year—there frequenting the plains and low grounds,
though in other parts of America it is found on moun-
tains, even of great elevation. It inhabits Canada in win-
ter, and was seen by Vieillot in great numbers, during
the month of October, in Nova Scotia. Lewis and Clark
met with it on the elevated range of the Rocky Moun-
tains, and brought back from their western expedition a
male specimen, now deposited in the Philadelphia
Museum, where it has been long exhibited under the
name of Louisiana Grous. This, as truly observed by
Say, first entitled it to rank among birds of the United
States. But the Rocky Mountains are not the only re-
gion of the United States territory where the Spotted
Grous is found. We have traced it with certainty as a
winter visitant of the northern extremity of Maine, Michi-
gan, and even the state of New-York; where, though
( NY

very rare, it is found in the counties of Lewis and Jeffer-
son. On the frontiers of Maine it is abundant, and has
been seen by Professor Holmes of the Gardiner Lyceum,
near Lake Umbagog, and others. Jn these countries the
Spotted Grous is known by the various names of Wood
Partridge, Swamp Partridge, Cedar Partridge, and
Spruce Partridge. The American settlers of Canada dis-
tinguish it by the first. In Michigan and New-York
it generally goes by the second. In Maine it bears the
third ; and in other parts of New-England, New-Bruns-
wick, &c., more properly the last. We have been inform-
ed by Gen. Henry A. S. Dearborn, that they are sent
from Nova Scotia and New-Brunswick to Boston in a
frozen state ; as in the north they are known to be so kept
hanging throughout the winter, and when wanted for use,
they need only be taken down and placed in cold water
to thaw. General Dearborn, to whom we are much in-
debted for the information which his interest for science
has induced him voluntarily to furnish, mentions, that he
has heard from his father, during the progress of the
expedition under Arnold through the wilderness to Que-
bee in 1775, these Grous were occasionally shot between
the tide waters of the Kennebeck river, and the sources
of the Chaudiere, now forming part of the state of Maine.
Five specimens of the Spotted Grous have been sent to
the Lyceum of Natural History of New-York from the
Sault de ste Marie, by Mr. Schoolcraft, whose exertions in
availing himself of the opportunities which his residence
affords him for the advancement of every branch of
Zoology, merits the highest praise. He informs us that
this bird is common from Lake Huron to the sources of
the Mississippi, being called in the Chipeway langnage
Mushcodasee, i. e. Partridge of the Plains.

“The favourite haunts of the Spotted Grous are pine
woods, and dark cedar swamps; in winter resorting to
the deep forests of spruce to feed on the tops and leaves
of these ever-greens, as well as on the seeds contained in
their cones, and on juniper berries. Hence their flesh,
though at all times good, is much better in summer, as in
winter it has a strong flavour of spruce. At Hudson’s
Bay, where they are called indifferently Wood or Spruce
Partridge, they are seen throughout the year. Like other
Grous, they build on the ground, laying perhaps seven
eggs; these are white, yellow, and black. They are easily
approached, being unsuspicious, and by no means so shy
as the common Ruffed Grous, and are killed or trapped
in numbers without much artifice being necessary for this
purpose. When much disturbed, like their kindred species,
they are apt to resort to trees, where, by using the pre-
caution of always shooting the lowest, the whole terrified
flock may be brought down to the last bird.

S6 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

<< The Spotted Grous is smaller than the common Par-
tridge or Pheasant; being but fifteen inches in length.
The bill is black, seven-eighths of an inch long. The
general colour of the plumage is made up of black and
gray mingled in transverse wavy crescents, with a few of
grayish rufous on the neck. The small feathers covering
the nostrils are deep velvetly black. The feathers may
all be called black as to the ground colour, and blackish
plumbeous at the base; on the crown, upper sides of the
head above the eye, and the anterior portion of the neck,
they have each two gray bands, or small crescents, and
tipped with a third; these parts, owing to the gray mar-
gin of the feathers being very broad, appear nearly all
gray. These long feathers of the lower part of the neck
above, and between the shoulders, are more broadly and
deeply black, each with a reddish band, and gray only at
the tip; the lowest have even two reddish bands, which
pass gradually into grayish; afew of the lateral feathers of the
neck are almost pure white; all the remaining feathers of the
upper parts of the body have two grayish bands, besides a
slight tip of the same colour; some of the lowest and largest
having even three of these bands besides the tips. The very
long upper tail-coverts are well distinguished, not only by
their shape, but also by their colours, being black, brown,
thickly sprinkled on the margin with grayish rusty, and
a pretty well defined band of that colour towards the
point, then a narrow one of deep black, and are broadly
tipped with whitish gray, more or less pure in different
specimens; their shafts, also, are brownish rusty. The
sides of the head beneath the eyes, together with the
throat, are deep black, with pure white spots, the white
lying curiously upon the feathers, so as to form a band
about the middle, continued along the shaft and spreading
at the points; but the feathers being small on these parts,
the white spots are not very conspicuous,

‘«¢ The breast also is deep black; but each feather broad-
ly tipped with pure white, constituting the large spots by
which this species is so peculiarly distinguished. On the
flanks, the feathers are at first from their base waved. with
black and grayish rusty crescents, but these become gra-
dually less pure and defined, and by getting confused,
make the lowest appear mottled with the two colours; all
are marked along the shaft with white, dilating at the tip,
forming on the largest a conspicuous spot. The vent is
for a space pure white, the tips of its downy feathers being
of that colour; the under tail-coverts are deep black, pure
for half an inch at their tip, and with a white mark along
the shaft beside. The wings are seven inches long, the
fourth primary alone being somewhat longer than the rest.
The upper coverts and scapularies are blackish; waved and
mottled with grayish rusty; the longest scapularies have a

small terminal spot of pure white along the shaft. The
smaller coverts are nearly edged with grayish rusty, and
in very perfect specimens they are even plain; the under
Wing-coverts are brownish dusky, edged with grayish,
some of the largest, as well as the long axillary feathers,
having white shafts, dilating into a terminal spot; the re-
maining inferior surface of the wing is bright silvery
gray: the spurous wing and the quills are plain dusky
brown, the secondaries being slightly tipped and edged
externally with paler, and those nearest the body some-
what mottled with grayish rusty at the point on the inner
vane; the primaries, with the exception of the first, are
slightly marked with whitish gray on their outer edge, but
are entirely destitute of white spots. The tail is six inches
long, well rounded, and composed of only sixteen feathers.
These are black, with a slight sprinkling of bright red-
dish on the outer web at base, under the coverts, which
disappears almost entirely with age—all are bright dark
rusty for half an inch at their tip, this colour itself being
finely edged with black.

“The tarsus measures an inch and a half, its feathers, to-
gether with the femorals, are dusky gray, slightly waved
with dusky; the toes are dusky; the lateral scales dingy
whitish, and the nails blackish. ©

‘¢ The female is smaller than the male, being more than
an inch shorter. The general plumage is much more
varied, with less of black, but more of rusty. There is a
tinge of rufous on the feathers of the nostrils. Those of the
head, neck, and upper part of the back, are black, with two
or three bright bands of orange rusty, and tipped with two
gray; there is more of the gray tint on the neck, on the
lower part of which above the orange bands are broader;
all the remaining parts of the body above, including the
tail-coverts, are more confusedly banded and mottled with
duller rusty orange and gray, or a blackish ground, these
colours themselves being also sprinkled with a little black.
The sides of the head, the throat, and all the neck below,
are dull rusty orange, each feather varied with black; on
the lower portion of the breast the black bands are broad
and very deep, alternating equally with the orange rusty,
and even gradually encroaching upon the ground colour.
The breast is deep black, each feather, as well as those of
the under parts, including the under ‘tail-coverts, are
broadly tipped with pure white, forming over all the in-
ferior surface very large and close spots, each feather hav-
ing besides one or two rusty orange spots, much duller
and paler, on the belly, and scarcely appearing when the
plumage lies close: the feathers of the flanks are blackish,
deeper at first and barred with very bright orange, then
much mottled with dull grayish rusty, each having a
triangular white spot near the tip. The wings and tail

———

———

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

are similar to those of the male; the variegatives of the
scapulars and upper coverts being only of a much more
rusty tinge, dull orange in the middle on the shaft, all the
larger feathers having moreover a white streak along the
shaft, ending in a pure white spot, wanting in the male.

‘¢The outer edge of the primaries is more broadly
whitish, and the tertials are dingy white at the point,
being also crossed with dull orange; the tail feathers,
especially the middle ones, are more thickly sprinkled
with rusty orange, taking the appearance of bands on the
middle feathers, then orange coloured, tip being moreover
not so pure, and also sprinkled.”

Those specimens from the Rocky Mountains somewhat
differ from those of the north, being larger in size, having
the tail black to the end, and the toes not so strongly pecti-
nated, and the tail-coverts are pure white at tip.

A WOLF HUNT.

Many of the inhabitants of the Wyalusing Valley re-
member Isaac H. Metcalf, who moved from that neigh-
bourhood to Tioga county, a few years ago. Isaac is a
tall, active, hardy fellow, and as good a hunter as is to be
found within an hundred miles of Brookfield township.
It is not probable that any foreign foe will ever invade
Brookfield; but if Isaac should get a sight of such a fel-
low’s head within two hundred yards of him, I would
not give six-pence for his chance of escaping a rifle bullet.
But although two legged foes are not likely to invade
Brookfield, four legged ones, in the shape of wolves and
foxes, are, unfortunately for sheep and poultry, too fre-
quently to be traced by their ravages. One of the for-
mer—who found, to his cost, that he had mistaken his
man—took the liberty of invading Isaac’s sheep-fold,
one morning just after he had foddered his flock, and on
Isaac’s return a few minutes afterwards, he found him,
without the ceremony of ‘by your leave, sir,’ regaling
on some of his fattest mutton. Indignant at the affron-
tery of the transaction, Isaac ran into the house for his
rifle; but the wolf, in the midst of his gluttony, kept an
eye for his safety, and on the hunter’s return, he could
only fire a shot at the flying marauder, which grazing the
animal’s belly, passed through his forefoot, as it was raised
in his gallop, and deranged, in some degree, the regulari-
ty of his race.

Isaae, who, though self-taught, appears to have acted on
the principle of Napoleon, never to suffer a flying enemy
to have any rest, ran back to the house, seized a loaf of
bread, with a laudible precaution, which the celebrated
Captain Dugald Dalgetty would have approved, and, with

87

his dog, started in pursuit. The dog liked the sport, and,
the wolf’s speed being somewhat impaired by the accident
which had happened to his foot, in an hour or too over-
took him, and had a slight scuffle with him ; but consi-
dering that ‘‘the better part of valour is discretion,”? he
merely endeavoured to delay the enemy till the arrival of
his master. The wolf, however, appeared to be well aware
of the dog’s intention, or, in the hunter’s phrase, was
“up to trap,” and before Isaac could get within long shot
of him, would take to his heels. In this way, with re-
peated skirmishes, the first day passed; and at night man
and dog laid down on some brush made into a bed by the
hunter. They found the loaf of bread a very useful arti-
cle in the campaign. At day light they “took the track”
again, and two other days and nights passed like the first,
the dog frequently overtaking the wolf, occupying his at-
tention and skirmishing with him till the near arrival of
his master, of which the wolf contrived to take sufficient
notice, and always to be off before the hunter could get
within rifle shot. Each morning it was ascertained, that
at bed. time, the wolf had been too tired to hunt for food,
and remained where he had laid down. till roused by the
dog in the morning. In the afternoon of the fourth day
he was fairly worn out and exhausted, and the hunter com-
ing up, the dog seized the wolf, and as they rolled over each
other, the hunter clapped his rifle to the wolf’s neck, dis-
charged the load through it, and broke the bone to pieces.

Isaac had not asked himself where he was during the
four days’ chase. He had seen nobody, and he passed
through no clearing or improvement, but as a true hunter
is not, to be lost by all the turnings and twistings of such
a devious route as he had been led, going, at one time,
right ‘¢ a-head,”’ as Col. Crockett says, or ‘‘bock again,”’
as Sawney said, and as some of our politicians do, or wish
they could do; but he ‘guessed’? he was somewhere
south-west from his house; and so, after he had taken the
enemy’s scalp, with as much of the skill of an artiste
as any of the Black Feet or Dog-Ribbed Indians could
have shown, he ¢‘laid his course,” as he said, to the north-
east, and found that when he was ‘‘in at the death,”’ he
was in Potter county, about twelve miles from his house;
but supposes that he must have travelled, during the chase,
nearly an hundred and fifty miles.

DOMESTIC PIGEONS, THEIR VARIETIES AND
MANAGEMENT.

Tue Pigeon is monoganous, that is, the male attaches
and confines himself to one female, and the attachment is

88 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

reciprocal; the fidelity of the dove to its mate being pro-
verbial. Young pigeons are termed squeakers, and begin
to breed at about the age of six months, when properly
managed: their courtship, and the well known tone of
voice in the cock, just then acquired and commencing,
are indications of their approaching union. Nestlings,
whilst fed by the cock and hen, are termed squads, and
are at that age sold and used for the table. The dove-
house pigeon is said to breed monthly, being well supplied
with food, more particularly when the ground is bound by
frost, or covered with snow. At any rate, it may be de-
pended on, that pigeons of almost any healthy and well-
established variety, will breed eight or ten times in the
- year; whence it may be conceived how immense are the
quantities which may be raised.

The first step towards pigeon keeping, is, undoubtedly,
to provide a commodious place for their reception, of
which I shall afterwards speak; the next, to provide the
pigeons themselves. These will be had in pairs, but if
not actually matched, pains must be afterwards taken, to
that end, that no time be lost; indeed, they may be match-
ed according to the fancy of the keepers, for the purpose
of varying the colours, or with any other view. But it is
necessary to give a caution on the subject of old pigeons,
of which a bargain may offer, since the difficulty of retain-
ing them is so great, indeed insuperable, without the strict-
est vigilance. Nothing short of cutting their wings, and
confining them closely until they have young to attach
them to the place, will be a security; and even after-
wards, they have been known to take flight with the first
use of their wings, and leave their nests. I have had se-
veral examples of this. Thence it is always preferable to
purchase sqgweakers, or such as have not yet flown; these,
being confined, in a short time, well fed, and accustomed
gradually to the surrounding scenery, before they have ac-
quired sufficient strength of wing wherewith to lose them-
selves, will become perfectly domesticated.

The dove-cote, or pigeon-loft, as to its situation or ex-

tent, will necessarily depend on convenience, one general

rule, however, must be invariably observed,—that every
pair of pigeons have two holes, or rooms, to nest in.
Without this indispensable convenience there will be no
security, but the prospect of constant confusion, breaking
of eggs, and destruction of the young. Pigeons do well
near dwellings, stables, bake-houses, brew- nonsense or such
offices; or their proper place is in the poultry-court. A
dove-cote is a good object situate upon an island, in the
centre of a piece of water: indeed, such is a proper situa-
tion for aquatic poultry, and rabbits also; and may be ren-
dered extremely beautiful and picturesque by planting, and
a little simple ornamental and useful building. Where

pigeons are kept in a room, some persons prefer making
their nests upon the floor, to escape the danger of the
young falling out; but in all probability this is to guard
against one risk, and incur’a great number, particularly
that of rats and other vermin.

Cleanliness is one of the first and most important consi-
derations: the want of it in. a dove-cote will soon ren-
der the place a nuisance not to be approached; and the
birds, both young and old, will be so covered with vermin,
and besmeared with their own excrement, that they can
enjoy no health or comfort, and mortality is often so in-
duced. Ours were cleaned daily, thoroughly once a week,
a tub standing at hand for the reception of the dung, the
floor covered with sifted gravel, often renewed. Pigeons
are exceedingly fond of water, and, having a prescience of
rain, will wait its coming until late in the evening, upon
the house-top, spreading their wings to receive the re-
freshing shower. When they are confined in a room,
they should be allowed a wide pan of water, to be often
renewed, as a bath, which cools, refreshes, and assists
them to keep their bodies clear of vermin. In the attend-
ance upon pigeons, caution is necessary with respect to
their fighting, to which they are more prone than- might
be expected, often to the destruction of eggs or young, or
driving the weakest away.

The shelves should be placed sufficiently high for secu-
rity against vermin, a small ladder being a necessary ap-
pendage. The usual breadth of the shelves is about
twenty inches, with the allowance of eighteen between
shelf and shelf, which will be sufficient not to incommode
the tallest pigeons. Partitions between the shelves may

‘be fixed at the distance of about three feet, making a blind,

by a board nailed against the front of each partition,
whence there will be two nests in the compass of every
three feet, so that the pigeons will sit in privacy, and not
liable to be disturbed. Or a partition may be fixed be-
tween each nest; a good plan, which prevents the young
from running to the hen, sitting over fresh eggs, and perhaps
occasioning her to cool and addle them: for when the
young are about a fortnight or three weeks old, a good
hen will leave them to the care of the cock and lay again.

Some prefer dreeding-holes entirely open in front,’ for
the greater convenience in cleaning the nests; but it is
from those that the squabs are likely to fall, thence a
step of sufficient height is preferable. The tame pigeon
seldom taking the trouble to make a nest, it is better to
give her one of hay, which prevents her eggs from rolling.
Or a straw basket, or unglazed earthen pan, may be placed
in every nest, apportioned to the size of the pigeons you
breed. A pan of three incheshigh, eight inches over the
top, and sloping to the bottom like a basin, will be of suf-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 89

ficient size for a ¢umodler, or a small pigeon, whilst one of
double those dimensions will be required for a large runt.
A brick should always be placed in contiguity to the pan,
to enable the cock and hen to alight with greater safety
upon the eggs.

Food and water should be given in such way, as to be
as little as possible contaminated with the excrement, or
any other impurity. Our pigeons having been con-
stantly attended, we have never found the need of any
other convenience than earthen pans; but there have been
ingenious inventions for this purpose, of which the meat-
box and water-botile are specimens. ‘The meat-box
is formed in the shape of a hopper, covered at the top to
keep clean the grain, which descends into a square shal-
low box. Some fence this with rails or holes on each side,
to keep the grains from being scattered over; others leave
it quite open, that the young pigeons may the more easily
find their food.

The water-botile is a large glass-bottle, with a long
neck, holding from one to five gallons, its belly shaped
like an egg, that the pigeons may not light and dung upon
it. It is placed upon a stand, or three-footed stool, made
hollow above, to receive the belly of the bottle, and let the
mouth into a small pan beneath: the water will so gradu-
ally descend out of the mouth of the bottle as the pigeons
drink, and be sweet and clean, and always stop when the
surface reaches the mouth of the bottle.

To match or pair a cock and hen, it is necessary to
shut them together, or near and within reach of each
other; and the connexion is generally formed in a day or
two. Various rules have been laid down, by which to
distinguish the cock from the hen pigeon; but the mascu-
line forwardness and action of the cock, is for the most
part distinguishable.

Incubation.—The great increase of domestic pigeons
does not proceed from the number of eggs laid by them,
but from the frequency of their hatching. The hen lays
but two eggs and immediately proceeds to incubation.
Having laid her first egg, she rests one day, and, on the
next, lays her second egg. They usually stand over the
first egg, not sitting close until they have two, whence,
both the young are hatched nearly at the same time:
there are some exceptions, however, to this rule of nature,
and the hen having sat close at first, one young bird may
be hatched a day or two before the other. They often
spoil their first eggs from inexperience.

The period of incubation is nineteen or twenty days
from laying the first egg, and seventeen or eighteen from
the last. The labour of sitting is equally divided between
the cock and hen, excepting that the hen always sits by
night. She is relieved in the morning by the cock, which

sits during the greater part of the day. The business of
feeding the young is also divided between the parents;
and the cock has often brought up the young, on the acci-
dental loss of his mate. Should not the eggs be hatched
in due time, from weakness, some small assistance may
be necessary to extricate the bird from the shell; or should
they be addled, it is generally held necessary to provide
the cock and hen with a borrowed pair of young, or at
least one to feed off their soft meat, which else may stag-
nate in their crops and make them sick: but as young
ones for this purpose may not always be at hand, the ex-
ercise of flying, fresh gravel, and those saline compositions
generally given to pigeons, are the proper remedy. Ad-
dled, or rotten eggs, should be immediately removed.

Pigeons are extremely liable to be lost by accident, and
that which is unaccountable, although they will find their
home from such great distances, they nevertheless often
lose themselves in their own neighbourhood. Should a
cock or hen be lost during incubation, the eggs will be
spoiled in twenty or thirty hours, and may then be taken
from the nest; but if the accident happen after hatching,
the single parent left will feed the young. Should both
parents be lost, the young are very easily accustomed to
be fed by hand with small peas or tares, much preferable
to barley. We did not find any necessity of recourse to
the old housewife’s instrument, the hollow reed.

Soft meat is a sort of milky fluid or pap, secreted in
the craw of pigeons, by the wise providence of nature,
against the time when it will be wanted for the nourish-
ment of their young. In all probability, from instinct,
the pigeons eat a greater quantity at this time, and the
grain goes through a certain process in their crops, which
produces the soft meat or pap in question. This they
have the power of throwing up at will; and, in feeding,
they inject it from their own bills into those of the young
ones, the bills of which are taken into their own. This
kind of feeding continues six or seven days, when the old
ones begin to mix some harder food with it, until at length
they feed with whole grain. When the time approaches
for the hen to lay, the cock is often seen driving her from
place to place, not suffering her to rest any where but in
her nest, apparently from an instinctive apprehension that
she may drop her egg in an improper place.

Food.—Pigeons are entirely granivorous, and very de-
licate and cleanly in their diet; they will sometimes eat
green vegetables, in particular warm salads, and are ex-
tremely fond of seeds. ares, and the smallest kind of
horse beans, commonly called pigeon beans, are both the
best and cheapest food for pigeons, but the pulse should
always be old, that is to say, of the previous year; as the
new will scour pigeons as well as any other kind of live

90 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

stock. Seeds are occasionally given to pigeons, as a
warming and stimulant diet, but according to my expe-
rience they greatly prefer rape and canary to hemp seed.
It has been remarked, that beans, sodden in salt-water,
scour pigeons equally with new beans, and, in a voyage,
suffering them to drink sea-water will soon kill them; al-
though so generally benefitted by salt, an excess of it is
fatal, as it is also to vegetation, promoted as that is by a
moderate quantity.

In most publications on the subject of pigeons, a danger-
ous mistake has been made in a term applied to beans.
Small ¢ick beans are recommended instead of small horse-
beans. . Now, the ¢ick or kidwell, (in the western phrase, )
are the larger of the two common field varieties, and be-
side being inferior in quality, are too large for pigeons,
which have been sometimes choked even with the com-
mon-sized horse beans; on which account, the smallest
possible should be procured, whence such are termed in
the market accounts, ‘ pigeon-beans.’ Pease, wheat, and
buck-wheat, or brank, are eaten by pigeons; but should
be given only in alternation, not as a constant diet. The
same of seeds. They yet prefer wheat. The strong scent
of cummin and flavour of coriander seeds are said to have
an alluring effect upon the olfactory nerves and palate of
these birds; as also the scent of asafetida, and other
powerfully odoriferous drugs; and that the use of fumiga-
tions of such, in the dove-cote, will not only attract the
pigeons to their home, but allure strangers, which may be
wandering in search of a habitation.

The last dietetic, or rather, perhaps, medicinal article
necessary to be described, is the sal¢-cat, so called from
some old fancy of baking a real cat with spices, for the
use of pigeons, which, however, I never observed to eat
animal food. In compliance with this custom, I caused to
be placed in the middle of the pigeon-loft, a dish of the
following composition: loam, sand, old mortar, fresh lime,
bay-salt, cummin, coriander, caraway seed, and allspice,
moistened into a consistence with urine. The pigeons
were constantly pecking at this, and were in a constant
state of good health; how much of which may be attri-
buted to the use of the cat, I cannot determine; but, cer-
tainly, they are extremely fond of it, and if it have no
other merit, it prevents them from. pecking the mortar
from the roof of the house, to which otherwise they are
much inclined. The cat was mixed and heaped up in the
dish, a peace of board being placed upon the summit, to
prevent the birds from dunging upon it; when become too
hard it was occasionally broken for them.

The regular old formula for this cat is as follows:
gravel or drift-sand, unctuous loam, the rubbish of an old
wali, or lime, a gallon of each—should lime be substituted

for rubbish, a less quantity of the former will suffice—
one pound of cummin-seed; one handful of bay-salt; mix
with stale urine. Inclose this in jars, corked or stopped,
holes being punched in the sides, to admit the beaks of
the pigeons. These may be placed abroad.

Many fanciful and groundless tales may be found in old
books, relative to the medicinal and remedial properties
of almost every part of the pigeon; thus much, however,
may be relied on, their flesh, when young and in good
condition, is a nourishing and stimulant diet; that of the
full aged pigeon more substantial, but harder of digestion,
and, in a considerable degree, heating. The general rule
of colour affecting quality in the flesh, holds good in tame
pigeons. The black and dark feathered are proportional-
ly dark or brown fleshed, of high flavour, inclining to the
game bitter of the wild pigeon. The light colour in the
feathers, denotes light and delicate flesh. Their dung is
of an extremely heating and drying quality, whether as a
manure, or for medicinal purposes. It was, in former
days, a principal ingredient in nitre-beds, when that arti-
cle was almost entirely manufactured at home.

Carriers, horsemen, and dragoons, are travellers or mes-
sengers, and I have occasionally seen ¢emb/ers turned off, at
the distance of forty miles from home. The carrier, it is,
said, has performed a journey of forty miles in an hour and a
half, and of even ninety miles in three hours. A dra-
goon has flown seventy-six miles in two hours and a half:
this ancient fancy of flying pigeons had declined, but has,
it seems, revived within a few years. The admired quali-
ties in the ¢wmbler are excessive high flight, so as to be
almost imperceptible to the keenest eye, in fine and clear
weather; perseverance in their flight for many hours to-
gether, and tumbling over and over repeatedly during their
ascent and descent.

In 1825, the Society of Amateurs at Antwerp sent ninety
carriers to Paris, to fly for a prize. They were started
from the French capital at seven in the morning, and by
noon of the same day, thirteen of them had reached home.
The first arrived at half-past eleven o’clock.

By what kind of natural qualification birds are able to
explore their way across such immense distances of land
and sea, seems to mock all human powers of inquiry: and
granting the accuracy of ancient relations in respect to the
regular and successful use of pigeons as messengers, it ap-
pears to be one of those ancient arts said to be buried in
the grave of time, which has not hitherto encountered
resurrection. The present price of a pair of carriers is
about six guineas.

By my memoranda, in 1801, I observe, that sixty-five
pairs of old pigeons, and one hundred and forty squeakers
of all sizes, regularly fed, consumed in one week, five

AND AMERICAN

pecks of the smallest beans, and ten quarts of seeds. The
above old stock, without any young, consumed about half
the quantity.

From the same. Fantails or Shakers, the head al-
ways in motion, are a beautiful stock, and good breeders,
but so stupid and silly, as scarcely to be capable of taking
care of themselves, or finding their home. Runts,
although so much larger, breed as fast and equally forward
as Tumblers. The duration of life in the pigeon is said
to extend to about twenty years, and it is deemed full
aged when the wings are full of the quill feathers.

The chief objects of the fancy have hitherto been those
varieties styled almond (probably ermine) tumblers, car-
riers, and the birds with great crops, the most fashionable
variety of which is the pouting horseman. The specific
merits of these breeds are indicated by their names. The
tumbler exercises that faculty in the air, but is chiefly
valued for his peculiar form and variegated plumage. The
carrier, as a messenger, cuts the air with almost incon-
ceivable swiftness. This is the Columba tabellaria, the
famous carrier or messenger, between Z/eppo, and Alex-
andria in Egypt. The pouter distends his crop to a
size attractive to curiosity, and by his grotesque attitudes
and familiarity with man, engages his attention.

‘¢The common dove house pigeon is the best to keep.
They breed oftenest, and feed their young ones best.
They begin to breed at about nine months old, and, if well
kept, will give you eight or nine pair in a year. Any
little place, a shelf in the cow shed; a board or two under
the eaves of the house; or in short, in any place under
cover, they will sit and hatch and breed up their young
ones.

«‘Jt is net to be supposed that there could be much
profit attached to them; but they are of this use; they are
very pretty creatures, very interesting in their manners;
they are objects of delight to chéldren and to give them
the early habit of fondness for animals, and of setting a
yalue on them, which, as I have often had to observe, is
a great thing.” —Moubray on Poultry.

For the Cabinet of Natural History.

THE YANKEE PEDLAR, AND THE HUNTERS.

‘¢ Why is that you, all alive yet, Seth ?”? said a stout
woodsman to a slender, modest looking youth. ‘Have
you had any more painter scrapes since I saw you? I
guess those tarnal fellows will make a meal of you some
day, if you come to such close grips.’? ‘Let them, if
they can,” replied the lad, «*J a’nt much fear’d on em.”

=

RURAL SPORTS. 9}
‘¢ Have you killed any panthers lately ?” asked I.“ Yes,
some.”? ‘*Some ! how many does that mean in this part
of the world.” ‘I killed five or six—six it was.’’? “* Yes,”
said the woodsman, ‘and that last one had a nation mind
to kill you.”” Why, I suppose, may be, it would have
tried, if I had been minded to let it.” ‘¢Tell me how it
was, master Seth; for I should like to hear it.’’

‘¢Why, sir, I wanted to have a hunt, and so I went
over to one of the branches of the Sinnemahoning. It
is a mighty wild place, and jist fit for bears and pain-
ters—up one hill and down another, all the way. I had
shot a deer, and wounded it badly, and was following
its track, when a she painter, with two young ones,
eame across the track, just before me. 1 suppose she
smelt the blood, and wanted the deer for her young
ones, and wished to drive me off: but that was not
fair; for the deer, according to hunters’ law, always
belongs to him who first draws blood; and when I saw
her coming right at me, I up with my rifle, and the blamed
thing missed fire. The painter sprung right at me, and I
made with my rifle a motion to strike her, which, I sup-
pose, startled her; for she stopt all at once, and so near
that I could have reached her with my gun—and such a
grin as she gave, you never seed ! I heard a fellow once
sing a sone how Davy Crockett grinned a coon off of a
tree; but ll be blamed if he could grin like that painter.
Ihave thought since, that I wonder I was not skeered a lit-
tle; but I wasn’t skeered a bit; and as she kept grinning at
me, I jist said to myself, why now, I’ll be shot if this var-
mint’s teeth are not longer than that old one’s that I killed
last; and then, I jist thought, if she’d only keep grinning for
half a minit longer, I could put a prime in my gun; and so I
took my powder horn, but I kept all the time staring her in
the face, for it wouldn’t do to take my eyes off of her, and
so I primed all by guess; but I was quick about it, J tell you;
and as soon as I had my rifle primed, I hada ball through
her ina wink. You never seed sich a jump as she made!
And then I cracked away at one of the young ones, and
over ittumbled ; but it was almost dark, and sa I let them
both lay, and went back tomy camp. The next morning,
bright and early, I went back again, and found the two that
I had killed lying where I left them, and the other young
one was lying by its mother. When it was lying down,
it didn’t seem much bigger than a fox, and it seem’d to be
asleep; and so I thought if I could get round a tree jist by
it, [could jump right on it, and catch it alive; and so I did.
I believe it was asleep, for it never stirred till I fell right
a top of it; and then if we hadn’t a tight scuffle, I never
had one! It wasn’t big, but it scratched like all natur; and
when IJ mastered him, it cost me a powerful site of trouble
to tie his feet, so that he couldn’t scratch; and atlast, when

92

I had got him home, I didn’t know what to do with him,
and so I sold him to this fellow in the white hat for fifteen
dollars, and he sold him to a yankee pedlar for fifty dol-
lars—them yankee pedlars will buy any thing; but the
pedlar paid for the painter in wooden clocks; and after the
pedlar went away, none of the clocks would go. Tom—
him in the white hat—said they all acted as if they were
bewitched, and he got so mad at them, that he said he had
a great mind to knock them all to pieces. But all this
wouldn’t have been so bad as it is, if the pedlar, when he
was going to take the young painter away, hadn’t made a
bargain with Tom for a buck elk—I think he took the
bark off of you there, Tommy. Tom don’t like to tell that
story, and so, I suppose, since you have made me tell mine,
I must tell his’n.

“ May be you know that there is stilla heap of elks in
that tract of country, away across from the Sinnemahoning
to Toby creek. Well, the pedlar told Tom, when he bought
the young painter, that he would give him a hundred and
fifty dollars, and may be, two hundred dollars, if he would
bring him a live buck elk, away to where he lived, at Ro-
chester, in New-York state; and so Tom and another chap
agreed to go halves in what they could make; and the first
chunk of asnowstorm that came, they set out on a hunt-like,
and got ropes and dogs with them, and when they got on the
track of some elks, they picked for the biggest track, and
run a great buck elk so, that at last he took to fight the
dogs till the men come up, and they got their ropes about
his horns and tangled him so, that finally they got him
down and secured him; and Tom thought itso fine an op-
portunity to make a fortin, that when they had got the elk
tied to a tree, he offered the other chap fifty dollars for his
chance, and he took him up at his offer at once. So Tom,
as soon as he got ready, streaked it off with his elk to go
to Rochester—a horse, with a long rope to the eik’s horns
before, to pull him along if he wanted to keep back; and
two men, with each a rope to his horns, to hold him back
if he wanted to pitch at the horse. So they went on for
two days. Tom rode the horse, and the horse was almost
skeared to death, and kept his head over one shoulder all
the way, looking back at the elk, and the elk, he was na-
tion sulkey; and they had a cruel time of it. Tom says,
that the elk put up his hair all the wrong way, and was
tarnal angry at all about him; and before they passed
through Potter county, theelk, I suppose, thought he would
not be made a fool of any longer, and so he jist laid down
and died; and poor Tom here, had to go home again, and
pay the fifty dollars to his partner in the hunt. He offered
the fellow all the clocks which he had got in the bargain
for my painter; but the other said he wouldn’t have any
thing to do with such nation silly things that wouldn’t go

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

at all; and if they did go, would make a noise like a house
full of rattle snakes. fs

*¢ And so Tom lays the blame of all this on my young
painter; but it wasn’t my painter at all that did it; and his
old aunt Keezy told him so, and said that it was alla right-
eous judgment on him, for having any thing to do with
one of them horn-flint, wooden-nutmeg yankee pedlars.
And I am quite entirely of aunt Keezy’s mind. Now,
an’t she right, Tom?” R.

SCIPIO AND THE BEAR.

Tue Black Bear ( Ursus americanus, ) however clum-
sy in appearance, is active, vigilant, and persevering;
possesses great strength, courage, and address; and un-
dergoes with little injury the greatest fatigues and hard-
ships in avoiding the pursuit of the hunter. Like the
deer, it changes its haunts with the seasons, and for the
same reason, namely, the desire of obtaining suitable
food, or of retiring to the more inaccessible parts, where
it can pass the time in security, unobserved by man, the
most dangerous of its enemies. During the spring months
it searches for food in the low, rich, alluvial lands that
border the rivers, or by the margins of such inland lakes
as, on account of their small size, are called by us ponds.
There it procures abundance of succulent roots, and of the
tender juicy stems of plants, upon which it chiefly feeds
at that season. During the summer heat it enters the
gloomy swamps, passes much of its time in wallowing in
the mud, like a hog, and contents itself with crayfish,
roots, and nettles, now and then, when hard pressed
by hunger, seizing on a young pig, or perhaps a sow,
or even a calf. -As soon as the different kinds of
berries which grow on the mountains begin to ripen,
the bears betake themselves to the high grounds, fol-
lowed by their cubs. In such retired parts of the coun-
try where there are no hilly grounds, it pays visits to the
maize fields, which it ravages for awhile. After this, the
various species of nuts, acorns, grapes and other forest
fruits, that form what in the western country is called
mast, attract its attention. The bear is then seen ram-
bling singly through the woods to gather this harvest, not for-
getting meanwhile to rob every bee-zree it meets with, bears
being, as you well know, expert at this operation. You
also know that they are good climbers, and may have been
told, or at least may now be told, that the Black Bear now
and then Aowses itself in the hollow trunks of the larger
trees for weeks together, when it is said to suck its paws.
You are probably not aware of a habit in which it in-

a

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 93

dulges, and which, being curious, must be interesting
to you.

At one. season, the Black Bear may be seen examining
the lower part of the trunk of a tree for several minutes
with much attention, at the same time looking around,
and snuffing the air, to assure itself that no enemy is near.
It then raises itself on its hind legs, approaches the trunk,
embraces it with its fore legs, and scratches the bark with
its teeth and claws for several minutes in continuance.
Its jaws clash against each other, until a mass of foam
runs down on both sides of the mouth. After this it con-
tinues its rambles.

In various portions of our country, many of our woods-
men and hunters who have seen the bear performing the
singular operation just described, imagine that it does so
for the purpose of leaving behind it an indication of its
size and power. They measure the height at which the
scratches are made, and in this manner, can in fact form
an estimate of the magnitude of the individual. My
own opinion, however, is different. It seems to me that
the bear scratches the trees, not for the purpose of show-
ing its size or its strength, but merely for that of sharpen-
ing its teeth and claws, to enable it better to encounter a
rival of its own species during the amatory season. The
Wild Boar of Europe clashes its tusks and scrapes the
earth with its feet, and the Deer rubs its antlers against the
lower part of the stems of young trees or bushes, for the
same purpose.

Being one night sleeping in the house of a friend, I was
awakened by a negro servant bearing a light, who gave
me a note, which he said his master had just received. I
ran my eye over the paper, and found it to be a communi-
cation from aneighbour, requesting my friend and myself
to join him as soon as possible, and assist in killing some
bears at that moment engaged in destroying his corn. I
was not long in dressing you may be assured, and on en-
tering the parlour, found my friend equipt, and only wait-
ing for some bullets, which a negro was employed in cast-
ing. The overseer’s horn was heard calling up the negroes
from their different cabins. Some were already engaged
in saddling our horses, whilst others were gathering all
the cur-dogs of the plantation. All was bustle. Before
half an hour had elapsed, four stout negro men, armed
with axes and knives, and mounted on strong nags of their
own, (for you must know, kind reader, that many of our
slaves rear horses, cattle, pigs and poultry, which are ex-
clusively their own property,) were following us at a
round gallop through the woods, as we made directly
for the neighbour’s plantation, a little more than five
miles off. :

The night was none of the most favourable, a drizzling

Aa

rain rendering the atmosphere thick and rather sultry; but
as we were well acquainted with the course, we soon reach-
ed the house, where the owner was waiting our arrival.
There were now three of us armed with guns, half a
dozen servants, and a good pack of dogs of all kinds. We
jogged on towards the detached field in which the bears
were at work. The owner told us that for some days
several of these animals had visited his corn, and that a
negro who was sent every afternoon to see at what part
of the enclosure they entered, had assured him there were
at least five in the field that night. A plan of attack was
formed: the bars at the usual gap of the fence were to be
put down without noise; the men and dogs were to di-
vide, and afterwards proceed so as to surround the bears,
when, at the sounding of our horns, every one was to
charge towards the centre of the field, and shout as loudly
as possible, which it was judged would so intimidate the
animals, as to induce them to seek refuge upon the
dead trees, with which the field -was still partially
covered. :

The plan succeeded. The horns sounded, the horses
gallopped forward, the men shouted, the dogs barked and
howled. The shrieks of the negroes were enough to
frighten a legion of bears, and those in the field took to
flight, so that by the time we reached the centre they were
heard hurrying towards the tops of the trees. Fires were
immediately lighted by the negroes. The drizzling rain
had ceased, the sky cleared, and the glare of the crack-
ling fires proved of great assistance to us. The bears had
been so terrified, that we now saw several of them crouch-
ed at the junction of the larger boughs with the trunks.
Two were immediately shot down. They were cubs of
no great size, and being already half dead, we left them
to the dogs, which quickly despatched them.

We were anxious to procure as much sport as possible,
and having observed one of the bears, which, from its
size, we conjectured to be the mother, ordered the negroes
to cut down the tree on which it was perched, when it
was intended the dogs should have a tug with it, while
we should support them, and assist in preventing the bear
from escaping by wounding it in one of the hind legs. The
surrounding woods now echoed to the blows of the axemen.
The tree was large and tough, having been girded more
than two years, and the operation of felling it seemed ex-
tremely tedious. However, it began to vibrate ateachstroke;
a few inches alone now supported it; and in a short time
it came crashing to the ground, in so awful a manner that
Bruin must doubtless have felt the shock as severely as we
should feel a shake of the globe produced by the sudde
collision of a comet. ;

The dogs rushed to the charge, and harassed the Bear

94 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

on all sides. We had remounted, and now surrounded
the poor animal. As its life depended upon its courage
and strength, it exercised both in the most energetic man-
ner. Now and then it seized a dog and killed him by a
single stroke. At another time, a well administered blow
of one of its fore-legs sent an assailant off yelping so pi-
teously, that he might be looked upon as hors de combat.
A cur had daringly ventured to seize the Bear by the
snout and was seen hanging to it, covered with blood,
whilst a dozen or more scrambled over its back. Now
and then the infuriated animal was seen to cast a revenge-
ful glance at some of the party, and we had already de-
termined to despatch it, when, to our astonishment, it
suddenly shook off all the dogs, and before we could fire,
charged upon one of the negroes, who was mounted on a
pied horse. The bear seized the steed with teeth and
claws, and clung to its breast. The terrified horse snorted
and plunged. The rider, an athletic young man, and a
capital horseman, kept his seat, although only saddled on
a sheep’s skin tightly girthed, and requested his master
not to fire at the bear. Notwithstanding his coolness and
courage, our anxiety for his safety was raised to the high-
est pitch, especially when in a moment we saw rider and
horse come to the ground together; but we were instantly
relieved on witnessing the masterly manner in which
Screro despatched his adversary, by laying open his skull
with a single well-directed blow of his axe, when a deep
growl announced the death of the bear, and the valorous
negro sprung to his feet unhurt.

Day dawned and we renewed our search. Two of the
remaining bears were soon discovered, lodged in a tree
about a hundred yards from the spot where the last one
had been overpowered. On approaching them in a circle,
we found that they manifested no desire to come down,
and we resolved to try smoking. We surrounded the
tree with a pile of brushwood and large branches. The
flames ascended and caught hold of the dry bark. At
length the tree assumed the appearance of a pillar of flame.
The bears mounted to the top branches. When they had
reached the uppermost they were seen to totter, and soon
after, the branch cracking and snapping across, they came
to the ground, bringing with them a mass of broken twigs.
They were cubsand the dogs soon worried them to death.

The party returned to the house in triumph. ‘Scipio’s
horse, being severely wounded, was let loose in.the field,
to repair his strength by eating the corn. A cart was
afterwards sent for the game. But before we had left the
fleld, the horses, dogs, and bears, together with the fires,
had destroyed more corn within a few hours, than the
poor bear and her cubs had, during the whole of their
visits. — AUDUBON .

HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT.

As all our attempts to obtain a hippopotamus had hither-
to failed, and as we were not likely to meet with another
opportunity, this being our last visit to Delagoa Bay, a
party of officers volunteered for the chase, and were con-
veyed up the Dundas river in the Albatross. The even-
ing set in before they reached that part of the river where
the hippopotami were the most abundant. Three parties
were however formed, who at midnight commenced their
pursuit. The scene was novel and imposing; a body of
men, armed at all points with muskets, harpoons, and lan-
ces, walking on the shallows of the river, with nothing
but the moon to light them, all hallooing and driving be-
fore them their huge game, who, blowing, snorting, and
bellowing, were floundering through the mud from the nu-
merous holes which they had made at the bottom for their
retreat, but from which the hunters’ Jances soon expelled
them, until ultimately driven upon dry ground; where a
running contest commenced, the beast sometimes being
pursued and at others pursuing.

This lasted for some time; but still there were no signs

_ of man’s boasted pre-eminence: not an animal had the party

secured, dead or alive. As low water was considered the
best time for the pursuit of their game, when the flood set
in the party amused themselves until the next ebb by
scouring the woods for any birds or beasts that they could
find. The deer, which were very numerous, consisted
principally of three species, the fallow, spring, and harte-
bock; but they, as well as the buffaloes and monkeys, were
so shy that none of the party could get near enough to fire
with any hope of success.

During the pursuit, the party were obliged to be careful
where they trod, as the forest abounded in pits dug by the
natives to entrap the hippopotami and elephants. These
were about twelve feet deep, formed like a wedge, and so
neatly covered with reeds that even some of the hunters,
notwithstanding their precautions, were caught, but fortu-
nately not in any armed with spears at the bottom. At
low water the following morning one party formed a line
across one of the shallows, were the depth was not above
two feet, while the boats went up the river and actually
drove the animals down the stream, another party having
lined the banks to prevent their taking to the woods and
reeds. These, whenever the monstrous but timid animals
attempted to pass them, set up a shout, which in most
instances proved sufficient to turn them back into the
water; when, having collected a vast number on one shal-
low bank of sand, the whole of the hunters commenced
from all sides a regular cannomade upon the astonished
brutes. Unwieldy as they appeared still much activity was

So

tl ali

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 95

displayed in their efforts to escape the murderous and un-
ceasing fire to which they were exposed. ‘The one-pound
gun occasionally furrowed the-thick hide of some, while
others were perpetually assailed by a shower of pewter
musket-balls. One, a cub, was nearly caught uninjured in
attempting to follow its mother, who, galled to desperation,
was endeavouring to escape through the land-party; but,
as soon as the affectionate brute perceived her off-spring
falling into the hands of her enemies, forgetting her fears,
she rushed furiously at the offenders, when they in their
turn were obliged to retreat; ‘but again they contrived to
separate them, and had almost secured the prize, when the
angry mother, regardless of their close and almost fatal fire,
succeeded in redeeming it from their grasp and bearing it
off, although herself in a state of great exhaustion. With
the flood this sport ended.

On their return to the schooner along the banks of
the river, passing near a spot where an hippopotamus
had been seen sporting in the water, a loud rustling was
heard amongst the reeds, as if the animal had retreated
thither on the discharge of their pieces. Messrs. Arlett
and Barrette, with two of the seamen, immediately follow-
ed with the view of driving him out. The former gentle-
man was a little in advance, and eager in the pursuit, when
he was heard loudly to exclaim, ‘‘ Here he is!” The shrill,
angry scream of some large animal instantly followed, and
in a few seconds Mr. Barrette rushed from the reeds with
his face covered with blood and calling loudly for assist-
ance, as Lieutenant Arlett was attacked and thrown down
by an elephant. The party were immediately on the alert
in search of the unfortunate officer, whom they expected
to find a mangled: corpse. As they approached, the ele-
phant, alarmed at their numbers, retreated, leaving his vic-
tim on the ground in a state that may more easily be ima-
gined than described. He was stretched motionless on
his back, covered with blood and dirt, and his eyes start-
ing from their sockets, in all the expressive horror of a
violent death.

Every attention was immediately paid to him, but it
was long feared that the vital spark had fled. Some water
was procured, when, after his face had been washed and
a little introduced into his mouth, he showed symptoms of
returning life; bat it was some time before he recovered
his senses, and became sufficiently collected to give a con-
nected account of the occurrence that had led to his pitia-
ble state. Itappeared that, from the thickness of the reeds,
he was close to the animal before he was at all aware of
his situation, but immediately on making the discovery,
he uttered the exclamation heard by his companions of
ss Here he is!’”? This had hardly escaped, when he dis-
covered that, instead of an hippopotamus, he was almost

stumbling over an enormous elephant. The animal, which
appeared highly irritated at the intrusion, waved its trunk
in the air, and the moment he spoke, reared upon its hind
legs, turned short round, and, with a shrill, passionate ery,
rushed after him, bearing down the opposing reeds in his
way, while Lieutenant Arlett vainly attempted to effect
his escape. or a short time he had hopes of eluding his
pursuer, as the animal perceived one of the seamen mount-
ed on the top of a tree, about twenty feet high and three
in circumference, menacing him by his voice and gestures,
while preparing to fire. The elephant turned short round,
and, shrieking with rage, made a kind of spring against
the tree, as if to reach the object of his attack, when his
ponderous weight bore the whole to the ground, but for-
tunately without hurting the man, who slipped among the
reeds. The ferocious animal still followed him, foaming
with rage, to the rising bank of the river; the man cry-
ing loudly, ‘*An Elephant! an elephant!” until closely
pressed by his pursuer, they both came upon the top of the
slope, where the party who had heard his cries were pre-
pared, and instantly fired a volley as the elephant appear-
ed. This made him return with increased fury to Mr.
Arlett, who, in his eagerness to escape, stumbled and fell,
the huge beast running over him and severely bruising his
ankle.

As soon as he had passed, Mr. Arlett arose, and, limping
with pain, attempted once more to retreat, but the animal
returned to the attack; his trunk was flourished in the air,
and the next moment the unfortunate officer was struck
senseless to the ground. On recovering himself his situa-
tion appeared hopeless, his huge antagonist standing over
him, chafling and screaming with rage, pounding the earth
with his feet, and ploughing it with his tusks. When the
party first saw them, Mr. Arlett was lying between the
elephant’s legs, and had it been the intention of the animal
to destroy him, placing a foot upon his senseless body would
in a moment have crushed him to atoms; but it is proba-
ble that his object was only to punish and alarm, not to kill
—such conjecture being perfectly in accordance with the
character of this noble but revengeful beast.

Mr. Arlett was with much care instantly conveyed on
board the schooner, when, on examination, it was found
that his body was severely bruised, yet no bones were bro-
ken, excepting the fibula of the left leg, which was sup-
posed to be slightly fractured. It appeared that the ele-
phant, on his last return to Mr. Arlett, had filled his trunk
with mud, which, having turned him on his back, and
forced open his mouth, he blew down his throat, injecting
alarge quantity into the stomach. It was this that pro-
duced the inflated appearance of Mr. Arlett’s countenance,
for he was almost in a state of suffocation, and for three

96 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

days after his adventure, he occasionally vomited quanti-
ties of blue sand.

When he encountered the elephant, he had a rifle in
his hand, but he was too close to fire, knowing as he did,
that in case of failure his destruction would be certain, for,
when wounded, the desperation of this animal is fatal to all.
Upon conveying him to the boat, this rifle was forgotten,
and a party of four were despatched to recover it. They
had just succeeded, and were about to return, when the
elephant rushed in amongst them. The first and second
man fired without effect, but the ball of the third fortunate-
ly turned him.

From the number of shots that were discharged, and ap-
parently took effect on the hippopotami, the party had no
doubt that some were killed.. The natives had promised
to inform them when the bodies floated on shore; but ex-
perience soon showed how little reliance could be placed
on the word of these people, when a savoury repast was
placedin the opposite scale. An hippopotamus head was dis-
covered, the body having been conveyed away, and eaten.
This awakened suspicion; our men traversed the bank of
the river, and shortly came on a party of natives, who
were in the act of cutting up the body of another. - This
was immediately taken possession of, and conveyed to the
schooner, while upwards of three hundred natives on the
opposite bank of the river, were showing, by their menac-
ing gestures, how averse they were to lose their prize. In
this animal three musket-balls had penetrated through the
skin, which was one inch and a half in thickness, and
lodged between the ribs; the fatal wound in the flank hav-
ing been discharged from the rifleof Mr. Jamieson. This
beast was of a small size, the head, without the tongue,
weighing only two hundred and six pounds. The natives
during the hunt were constant attendants, and had by far
the largest share of the game.

[Owen’s Voyages on the Coast of Africa.

CHURCH-GOING DOGS.

Tue shepherd’s dog is one of the most intelligent and
useful of the canine race; he is a constant attendant on his
master, and never leaves him except in the performance
of his duty. In some districts of Scotland this animal al-
ways accompanies him to church; some of them are even
more regular attendants than their masters, for they never
fail resorting thither, unless employed in tending their
charge. It may easily be supposed that to a stranger visit-

ing one of the churches in the pasture district, their ap-
pearance there will excite considerable interest. The first
time I happened to be placed in that situation, I was nota
little astonished to see with what propriety they conduct-
ed themselves throughout the greater part of the time we
were in church; but towards the close one of the dogs
began to show some anxiety to get away, when his master,
for this unmannerly conduct, very unceremoniously gave
him a kick, which caused him to howl, and to break the
peace of the assembly, and, to add to his distress, some of
his fellow dogs attacked him, as dogs are wont to do when
they hear one of their species howl. The quarrel now be-
came so alarming that the precentor was forced to leave
his seat, and use his authority in restoring the peace;
which was done by means of a few kicks. All the time of
this disturbance the minister seemed very little discomfit-
ed, continuing his preaching without intertnission, which
showed that such were not rare occurrences,

In one parish great complaints were made against the
disturbances occasioned during divine service by the.quar-
relling, or otherwise unmannerly conduct, of the dogs,
when it was agreed that all who had dogs should confine
them, and not allow them to come to church. This did
very well for the first Sunday or so; but the dogs not at all
relishing to be locked up on a day when they were wont
to enjoy themselves, were never to be found on the Sun-
day mornings to be tied up; they, by some instinct which
I cannot explain, knew the Sunday as well as their mas-
ters, and set off before them whither they had been in the
habit of going on that day.

It was now evident to the members of the congregation
that this plan would not do, and another scheme was laid
before them, which was, to erect a house close to the
church, in which they might be confined during divine
service. This was adopted, and a kennel wasaccordingly
erected, in which the dogs were imprisoned; but the ani-
mals being more accustomed to freedom than to confine-
ment, took very ill with the restraint put upon their liberty,
and set up a most dreadful howling, to the great annoy-
ance of the people in the church. They however perse-
vered in confining them for a considerable time, thinking
the animals would get accustomed to their incarceration:
but in this they were mistaken; for, instead of the howl-
ing diminishing, it got worse and worse. So it was agreed
they should again be set at liberty and have freedom of
access to the place of public worship; but their manners
had been so corrupted that they were with difficulty re-
stored even to their former discipline.

[Mag. Nat. Hist.

AGENT FOR NEW-YORK CITY AND BROOKLYN,
P. fd. MESIER, 28 WALL STREET.

AGENTS
THE CASINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Maine—Samuel Colman, Portland.

MassacuuseTrs—Allen and Ticknor, Boston; Charles Whipple, Newburyport.

RuopE IsLanp— —— . Providence.

Connecticur—Hezekiah Howe, New-Haven.

New-Yorx—P. A. Mesier, 28 Wall st., New-York City; Weare C. Little, 2lbany
and Schenectady; G.J. Grosvenor, Esq. P. M., Geneva; John De Witt, West
Point; Aaron Belknap, Esq., Newburgh; P. Potter, Poughkeepsie; Craw-
ford Livingston, Hudson; Wm. S. Parker, Troyand Lansingburgh; H. & B.
Phinney, Utica and Little Falls: J.S. V. Yates, Syracuse; H. Ivison & Co.,
Auburn; Bemis & Ward, Canandaigua, Samuel Drake, Kochester.

Nerw-Jursey—H. R. Merseilles, Bridgetown.

Prennsytvanta—Aaron Lambert, New-Hope; James Peacock, P. M., Harrisburg.

Maryianp—b.. J. Coale& Co., Baltimore; Dennis Claude, Annapolis.

District or Cotumpra—Pishey Thompson, Washington City; R. Zimmerman,
Alexandria.

Vireinra—John W. Campbell, Petersburgh; E. P. Nash, Norfolk; R.I. Smith,
Richmond; William F. Gray, P. M., Fredericksburg.

Nort Carorina—Turner & Hughes, Raleigh.

Sour Carorina—W. H. Berritt, Charleston; Alexander Young, Camden; B.
D. & T. H. Plant, Columbia.

Grorera—Richards & Ganahl, Augusta; William T. Williams, Savannah.

TENNESSEE—Hichbaum & Norvell, Nashville.

Onto—Jostan Drake & Co., Cincinnati; B. Laruam, P. M., Columbus.

\

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