Part 61

While proceeding up the Mississippi above its junction with the Ohio, I found, to my great mortification, that its navigation was obstructed by ice. The chief conductor of my bark, who was a Canadian Frenchman, was therefore desired to take us to a place suitable for winter-quarters, which he accordingly did, bringing us into a great bend of the river called Tawapatee Bottom. The waters were unusually low, the thermometer indicated excessive cold, the earth all around was covered with snow, dark clouds were spread over the heavens, and as all appearances were unfavourable to the hope of a speedy prosecution of our voyage, we quietly set to work. Our bark, which was a large keel-boat, was moored close to the shore, the cargo was conveyed to the woods, large trees were felled over the water, and were so disposed as to keep off the pressure of the floating masses of ice. In less than two days, our stores, baggage, and ammunition, were deposited in a great heap under one of the magnificent trees of which the forest was here composed, our sails were spread over all, and a complete camp was formed in the wilderness. Every thing around us seemed dreary and dismal, and had we not been endowed with the faculty of deriving pleasure from the examination of nature, we should have made up our minds to pass the time in a state similar to that of bears during their hybernation. We soon found employment, however, for the woods were full of game; and deer, turkeys, racoons, and opossums might be seen even around our camp; while on the ice that now covered the broad stream rested flocks of swans, to surprise which the hungry wolves were at times seen to make energetic but unsuccessful efforts. It was curious to see the snow-white birds all lying flat on the ice, but keenly intent on watching the motions of their insidious enemies, until the latter advanced within the distance of a few hundred yards, when the swans, sounding their trumpet-notes of alarm, would all rise, spread out their broad wings, and after running some yards and battering the ice until the noise was echoed like thunder through the woods, rose exultingly into the air, leaving their pursuers to devise other schemes for gratifying their craving appetites.

The nights being extremely cold, we constantly kept up a large fire, formed of the best wood. Fine trees of ash and hickory were felled, cut up into logs of convenient size, and rolled into a pile, on the top of which, with the aid of twigs, a fire was kindled. There were about fifteen of us, some hunters, others trappers, and all more or less accustomed to live in the woods. At night, when all had returned from their hunting-grounds, some successful and others empty-handed, they presented a picture in the strong glare of the huge fire that illuminated the forest, which it might prove interesting to you to see, were it copied by a bold hand on canvass. Over a space of thirty yards or more, the snow was scraped away, and piled up into a circular wall, which protected us from the cold blast. Our cooking utensils formed no mean display, and before a week had elapsed, venison, turkeys, and racoons hung on the branches in profusion. Fish, too, and that of excellent quality, often graced our board, having been obtained by breaking holes in the ice of the lakes. It was observed that the opossums issued at night from holes in the banks of the river, to which they returned about day-break; and having thus discovered their retreat, we captured many of them by means of snares.

At the end of a fortnight our bread failed, and two of the party were directed to proceed across the bend, towards a village on the western bank of the Mississippi, in quest of that commodity; for although we had a kind of substitute for it in the dry white flesh of the breast of the wild turkey, bread is bread after all, and more indispensable to civilized man than any other article of food. The expedition left the camp early one morning; one of the party boasted much of his knowledge of woods, while the other said nothing, but followed. They walked on all day, and returned next morning to the camp with empty wallets. The next attempt, however, succeeded, and they brought on a sledge a barrel of flour and some potatoes. After a while, we were joined by many Indians, the observation of whose manners afforded us much amusement.

Six weeks were spent in Tawapatee Bottom. The waters had kept continually sinking, and our boat lay on her side high and dry. On both sides of the stream, the ice had broken into heaps, forming huge walls. Our pilot visited the river daily, to see what prospect there might be of a change. One night, while, excepting himself, all were sound asleep, he suddenly roused us with loud cries of “the ice is breaking! get up, get up, down to the boat lads, bring out your axes, hurry on, or we may lose her, here let us have a torch!” Starting up, as if we had been attacked by a band of savages, we ran pell-mell to the bank. The ice was indeed breaking up; it split with reports like those of heavy artillery, and as the water had suddenly risen from an overflow of the Ohio, the two streams seemed to rush against each other with violence, in consequence of which the congealed mass was broken into large fragments, some of which rose nearly erect here and there, and again fell with thundering crash, as the wounded whale, when in the agonies of death, springs up with furious force, and again plunges into the foaming waters. To our surprise, the weather, which in the evening had been calm and frosty, had become wet and blowy. The water gushed from the fissures formed in the ice, and the prospect was extremely dismal. When day dawned, a spectacle strange and fearful presented itself: the whole mass of water was violently agitated, its covering was broken into small fragments, and although not a foot of space was without ice, not a step could the most daring have ventured to make upon it. Our boat was in imminent danger, for the trees which had been placed to guard it from the ice were cut or broken into pieces, and were thrust against her. It was impossible to move her; but our pilot ordered every man to bring down great bunches of cane, which were lashed along her sides; and before these were destroyed by the ice, she was afloat and riding above it. While we were gazing on the scene, a tremendous crash was heard, which seemed to have taken place about a mile below, when suddenly the great dam of ice gave way. The current of the Mississippi had forced its way against that of the Ohio; and in less than four hours, we witnessed the complete breaking up of the ice.

During that winter, the ice was so thick on the Mississippi, that opposite St Louis, horses and heavy waggons crossed the river. Many boats had been detained in the same manner as our own, so that provisions and other necessary articles had become very scarce, and sold at a high price. This happened about twenty-eight years ago.

THE REDDISH EGRET.

ARDEA RUFESCENS, GMEL.

PLATE CCLVI. ADULT AND YOUNG.

While sailing towards the Florida Keys, my mind was agitated with anticipations of the delight I should experience in exploring a region whose productions were very imperfectly known. Often did I think of the Heron named after TITIAN PEALE, by my learned friend the Prince of Musignano. Mr PEALE had procured only a single specimen, and in the winter season, but whether or not the species was abundant on the Keys of Florida remained to be discovered. No sooner had I been landed and formed an acquaintance with Mr EGAN, the pilot of whom I have often spoken, who was well acquainted with the haunts of many of the birds of those islands, than I asked him respecting the various Herons which might be found there or on the shores of the mainland. Before answering me, he counted his fingers slowly, and then said that he could recollect only “twelve sorts;” “but,” added he, “these birds change their colours so curiously, that it is past wonder with me to believe that any one man could know them without watching them as I have done for many years.” I then inquired if I was in good time to procure all the sorts which he knew. He answered in the affirmative; but felt some doubt as to my procuring the eggs of one kind at least, which breed earlier than the rest, and was pure white from the shell, and the largest of all. Thinking the species to which he alluded might be the Ardea alba of LINNÆUS, I asked if it had long thread-like feathers over the tail during the breeding season. “Oh no, Sir,” said he, “it never has; it is as tall as yourself, and when you see some on the wing, you will be pleased, for their wings are as large as those of the Brown Pelican. The one I guess you mean, mostly goes farther to the eastward to breed, along with a very small one, also always white, with the feathers over the tail as you say, and curled upwards. These are the only three sorts that are white.” I begged him to describe the colours of the others, which he did so well that I recognised ten species in all; but the large white one, and another of a grey and purple colour, were unknown to me, and I told him so, stating at the same time how anxious I was to procure them if possible.

“If possible! nothing in the world can be more easy, for if they have no eggs left, they have young ones enough to load your schooner. I can take you straight to their breeding place.”

You may suppose, Reader, how my spirits were raised by this intelligence, and how surprised I was that PEALE’s Egret was not in the number of the Florida Herons. We speedily embarked in Mr THRUSTON’s boat, spread our sails to the breeze, and passed several keys, on which we procured two young birds of the large white species, which I saw at once was unknown to me, but of which you will find an account in this volume. As we approached the next island, I saw twenty or thirty pairs of Herons, some of which were pure white, others of a light blue colour, but so much larger than the Blue Heron, Ardea cœrulea, that I asked the pilot what they were, when he answered, “the very fellows I want to shew you, and you may soon see them close enough, as you and I will shoot a few by way of amusement.” Before half an hour had elapsed, more than a dozen were lying at my feet. Some of them were as white as driven snow, the rest of a delicate purplish tint, inclining to grey on the back and wings, with heads and necks of a curious reddish colour. Males and females there were, but they were all of one species, for my companion assured me that “this sort bred before they turned to their natural colours,” by which he meant before attaining their full plumage at the age of three years. Well, the immature birds were the very same as the individual to which, as the representative of a new species, the name of Peale’s Egret had been given. This I saw at once, for so good is the representation of it in the fourth volume of BONAPARTE’s American Ornithology, that from the mere recollection of it I was enabled to recognise the bird at once. You may imagine the pleasure I felt, as well as that which I experienced on becoming better acquainted with this species, which I found in many places both with eggs and with young.

The Reddish Egret is a constant resident on the Florida Keys, to which it is so partial at all seasons that it never leaves them. Some individuals are seen as far east as Cape Florida, and westward along the Gulf of Mexico. Whether it may ever betake itself to fresh water I cannot say, but I never found one in such a situation. It is a more plump bird for its size than most other Herons, and in this respect resembles the Night Heron and the Yellow-crowned species, but possesses all the gracefulness of the tribe to which it belongs. In walking it lifts its feet high, and proceeds at a quiet pace, but sometimes briskly; it alights with ease on trees, and walks well on the larger branches. It rarely feeds from the edges of the water, but resorts to the shallows of the extensive mud or sand flats, so numerous about the keys. There, twenty or thirty, sometimes so many as a hundred, may be seen wading up to the heel (or knee-joint as it is usually called) in pursuit of prey, or standing in silence awaiting the approach of an animal on which it feeds, when it strikes it, and immediately swallows it, if not too large; but if so, it carries it to the shore, beats it, and tears it to pieces, rarely, however, using its feet for that purpose, and certainly never employing its pectinated claws, which no Heron that I know ever uses for any other object than that of scratching its head, or perhaps of securing its steps on rocky bottoms. These birds remain on the flats thus employed, until the advance of the tide forces them to the land.

The flight of this Heron is more elevated and regular than that of the smaller species. During the love season, it is peculiarly graceful and elegant, especially when one unmated male is pursuing another, a female being in sight. They pass through the air with celerity, turn and cut about in curious curves and zigzags, the stronger bird frequently erecting its beautiful crest, and uttering its note, at the moment when it expects to give its rival a thrust. When these aërial combats take place between old and immature birds, their different colours form a striking contrast, extremely pleasing to the beholder. While travelling to and from their feeding grounds, or from one key to another, they propel themselves by easy, well-sustained, and regular flappings of their extended wings, the neck reposing on the shoulders, the legs stretched out behind like a rudder, while their beautiful thready trains float in the breeze. On approaching a landing place, they seldom fail to perform a few circumvolutions, in order to see that all around is quiet, for they are more shy and wary than the smaller Herons, and almost as suspicious as the two larger species, Ardea occidentalis, and A. Herodias; and this becomes apparent as soon as they discontinue the feeding of their young, when you find it extremely difficult to approach them. After this period I rarely shot one, unless I happened to come upon it unawares, or while it was passing over me when among the mangroves.

About the beginning of April, these Herons begin to pair. The males chase each other on the ground, as well as in the air, and on returning to their chosen females erect their crest and plumes, swell out their necks, pass and repass before them, and emit hollow rough sounds, which it is impossible for me to describe. It is curious to see a party of twenty or thirty on a sand-bar, presenting as they do a mixture of colours from pure white to the full hues of the old birds of either sex; and still more curious perhaps it is to see a purple male paying his addresses to a white female, while at hand a white male is caressing a purple female, and not far off are a pair of white, and another of purple birds. Nay, reader, until I had witnessed these remarkable circumstances, I felt some distrust respecting the statement of the worthy pilot. I am even now doubtful if all the young breed the first spring after their birth, and am more inclined to think that they do not, on account of the large flocks of white birds of this species which during the breeding time kept apart from those that had nests, but which on examination were not found to be barren birds, although they had the crests and pendent feathers less elongated than those white individuals that were actually breeding.

By the middle of April, they construct their nests, which they place for the most part on the south-western sides of the mangroves immediately bordering the keys, never on the trees at a distance from the water, and rarely very close together. Some are placed on the top branches, others a foot or two above the highest tide-mark; many of them are annually repaired, perhaps all that stand the winter gales. The nest, which is quite flat, is large for the size of the bird, and is formed of dry sticks, interspersed with grass and leaves. The eggs are three, average an inch and three quarters in length, one and three-eighths in breadth, have an elliptical form, and a smooth shell, of a uniform rather pale sea-green colour. They afford excellent eating. Both sexes incubate, but I did not ascertain the time required for hatching.

The young while yet naked are of a dark colour, there being only a few scanty tufts of long soft down on the head and other parts; but when the feathers begin to sprout they became white. Being abundantly and carefully fed, at first by regurgitation, they grow fast, and soon become noisy. When about a month old, they are fed less frequently, and the fish is merely dropt before them, or into their open throats; soon after they sit upright on the nest, with their legs extended forward, or crawl about on the branches, as all other Herons are wont to do. They are now sensible of danger, and when a boat is heard coming towards them they hide among the branches, making towards the interior of the keys, where it is extremely difficult to follow them. On one occasion, when I was desirous of procuring some of them alive, to take to Charleston, it took more than an hour to catch eight or nine of them, for they moved so fast and stealthily through the mangroves, always making for the closest and most tangled parts, that a man was obliged to keep his eyes constantly on a single individual, which it was very difficult to do, on account of the number of birds crossing each other in every direction. They do not fly until they are six or seven weeks old, and even then do not venture beyond the island on which they have been reared. In captivity, those which we had procured feed freely, and soon became tolerably docile. They were supplied with pieces of green turtle and other species of the tribe, and some of them reached Charleston in good health. One continued alive for nearly two years with my friend the Rev. JOHN BACHMAN. It was allowed to walk in the garden and poultry-yard, and ate an enormous quantity of small fish and all sorts of garbage, contenting itself, when better food was scarce, with the entrails of fowls, and even fed freely on moistened corn-meal or mush. It caught insects with great dexterity, and was very gentle and familiar, frequently going into the kitchen, where it was a great favourite. It had acquired a crest and a few of the pendent feathers of the back by the month of January, when about twenty-two months old. One cold night, it was accidentally neglected, and in the morning was found dead, having shared the fate of so many thousands of pet birds in all parts of the world. On being opened, it was found to be a male. Although I have not been able to trace the gradual changes of colour which this species undergoes, I have little doubt that it will be found to attain maturity the third spring after birth.

The Reddish Egret rarely associates with others; nor does it suffer them to nestle on the same island with itself. In this respect, it differs from all other Herons with which I am acquainted; for although the Great White Heron, A. occidentalis, has a decided antipathy to the Great Blue Heron, still it now and then allows a few to breed on the north side of its island. The present species is as strictly marine as the Great White Heron; and these are the only two that are so, for all the others feed on fresh-water fishes, not less than on those obtained in salt-water, as well as on other food of various kinds. Like all others, the Reddish Egret loses its ornaments soon after incubation, when old and young mix, and follow their occupations together. When wounded, it strikes with its bill, scratches with its claws, and, throwing itself on its back, emits its rough and harsh notes, keeping all the while its crest erected and expanded, and its feathers swelled out. Its principal food consists of fishes of various sizes, of which it consumes a great number, and of which it finds no difficulty in procuring a sufficiency, as all the waters of those portions of the Floridas that are inhabited by it are very profusely stocked. I was told that, although still plentiful in the Floridas, this species was much more so when the keys were first settled. I was present when a person killed twenty-eight in succession in about an hour, the poor birds hovering above their island in dismay, and unaware of the destructive power of their enemy.

The remarkable circumstance of this bird’s changing from white to purple will no doubt have some tendency to disconcert the systematists, who, it seems, pronounce all the birds which they name Egrets to be always white; but how much more disconcerted must they be when they see that among the Herons peculiarly so named, which they say are always coloured, the largest known to exist in the United States is pure white. It is not at present my intention to say what an Egret is, or what a Heron is; but it can no longer be denied that the presence or absence of a loose crest, floating plume, and a white colour, are insufficient for establishing essential characters separating Egrets from Herons, which in fact display the most intimate connection, the one group running into the other in an almost imperceptible gradation. Hoping that an account of the extent of the migrations of the twelve species of Heron that occur in the United States, and whose habits I have studied for many years under the most favourable circumstances, may prove acceptable, I now lay one before you, arranging the species according to size, without regard to the rank they hold in systematic works.

1. The Great White Heron. Ardea occidentalis. A constant resident on the southern keys of Florida; entirely maritime; never goes farther eastward than Cape Florida, though in winter the younger birds migrate southward, and perhaps pass beyond the extremities of the Gulf of Mexico.

2. The Great Blue Heron. Ardea Herodias. A constant resident in the Floridas; migrates throughout the Union, and as far along the Atlantic coast as the southernmost islands of the Gulf of St Lawrence in summer; breeds in all the districts, and at the approach of winter returns to the Southern States.

3. The White Heron. Ardea alba. Resident in the Floridas; migrates to the eastward sometimes as far as Massachusetts, and up the Mississippi as far as the city of Natchez; never seen far inland.

4. The Purple Heron. Ardea rufescens. Resident on the Florida Keys; entirely maritime; never seen farther eastward than Cape Florida; the young sometimes remove southward in winter.

5. The American Bittern. Ardea minor. A winter resident in the Floridas; many migrate over the greater part of the Union and beyond its northern limits; never seen in Kentucky; return before winter to the Southern States.

6. The Night Heron. Ardea Nycticorax. Resident in the Floridas; migrates eastward as far as Maine, up the Mississippi as high as Memphis; none seen in Kentucky; returns to the Southern States at the approach of winter, and occurs at the distance of a hundred miles inland.

7. The Yellow-crowned Heron. Ardea violacea. A few spend the winter in the Floridas; it rarely migrates farther eastward than New Jersey; proceeds up the Mississippi to Natchez; never goes far inland; the greatest number winter beyond the southern limits of the United States.

8. The Blue Heron. Ardea cœrulea. Resident in the Floridas; migrates eastward as far as Long Island; proceeds up the Mississippi about a hundred miles above Natchez; never goes far inland.

9. The Louisiana Heron. Ardea Ludoviciana. Resident in the Floridas; rarely seen as far east as New Jersey; seldom passes Natchez on the Mississippi; never goes far inland.

10. The White Egret. Ardea candidissima. Resident in the Floridas; migrates eastward as far as New York, up the Mississippi as far as Memphis; never goes far inland; returns to the Southern States as soon as the young are able to travel.