Of the other common birds there are but few worth notice. Doves and quails, or partridges as they are sometimes called, afford good diversion for the sportsman. These last birds in their habits are exactly similar to European partridges, excepting that they alight sometimes upon trees; their size is that of the quail, but they are neither the same as the English quail or the English partridge. It is the same with many other birds, as jays, robins, larks, pheasants, &c. which were called by the English settlers after the birds of the same name in England, because they bore some resemblance to them, though in fact they are materially different. In the lower parts of Virginia, and to the southward, are great numbers of large birds, called turkey buzzards, which, when mounted aloft on the wing, look like eagles. In Carolina there is a law prohibiting the killing of these birds, as they feed upon putrid carcases, and therefore contribute to keep the air wholesome. There is only one bird more which I shall mention, the whipperwill, or whip-poor-will, as it is sometimes called, from the plaintive noise that it makes; to my ear it sounded wȳp-ŏ-īl. It begins to make this noise, which is heard a great way off, about dusk, and continues it through the greater part of the night. This bird is so very wary, and so few instances have occurred of its being seen, much less taken, that many have imagined the noise does not proceed from a bird, but from a frog, especially as it is heard most frequently in the neighbourhood of low grounds.
The frogs in America, it must here be observed, make a most singular noise, some of them absolutely whistling, whilst others croak so loudly, that it is difficult at times to tell whether the sound proceeds from a calf or a frog: I have more than once been deceived by the noise when walking in a meadow. These last frogs are called bull frogs; they mostly keep in pairs, and are never found but where there is good water; their bodies are from four to seven inches long, and their legs are in proportion; they are extremely active, and take prodigious leaps.
The first town I reached on going towards the mountains was Columbia, or Point of Fork, as it is called in the neighbourhood. It is situated about sixty miles above Richmond, at the confluence of Rivanna and Fluvanna rivers, which united form James River. This is a flourishing little place, containing about forty houses, and a warehouse for the inspection of tobacco. On the neck of land between the two rivers, just opposite to the town, is the magazine of the state, in which are kept twelve thousand stand of arms, and about thirty tons of powder. The low lands bordering upon the river in this neighbourhood are extremely valuable.
From Columbia to the Green Springs, about twenty miles farther on, the road runs almost wholly through a pine forest, and is very lonely. Night came on before I got to the end of it, and, as very commonly happens with travellers in this part of the world, I soon lost my way. A light, however, seen through the trees, seemed to indicate that a house was not far off; my servant eagerly rode up to it, but the poor fellow’s consternation was great indeed when he observed it moving from him, presently coming back, and then with swiftness departing again into the woods. I was at a loss for a time myself to account for the appearance, but after proceeding a little farther, I observed the same sort of light in many other places, and dismounting from my horse to examine a bush where one of these sparks appeared to have fallen, I found it proceeded from the fire fly. As the summer came on, these flies appeared every night: after a light shower in the afternoon, I have seen the woods sparkling with them in every quarter. The light is emitted from the tail, and the animal has the power of emitting it or not at pleasure.
GREEN SPRINGS.
After wandering about till it was near eleven o’clock, a plantation at last appeared, and having got fresh information respecting the road from the negroes in the quarter, who generally sit up half the night, and over a fire in all seasons, I again set out for the Green Springs. With some difficulty I at last found the way, and arrived there about midnight. The hour was so unseasonable, that the people at the tavern were very unwilling to open their doors; and it was not till I had related the history of my adventures from the last stage two or three times that they could be prevailed upon to let me in. At last a tall fellow in his shirt came grumbling to the door, and told me I might come in if I would. I had now a parley for another quarter of an hour to persuade him to give me some corn for my horses, which he was very unwilling to do; but at last he complied, though much against his inclination, and unlocked the stable door. Returning to the house, I was shewn into a room about ten feet square, in which were two filthy beds swarming with bugs; the ceiling had mouldered away, and the walls admitted light in various places; it was a happy circumstance, however, that these apertures were in the wall, for the window of the apartment was insufficient in itself to admit either light or fresh air. Here I would fain have got something to eat, if possible, but not even so much as a piece of bread was to be had; indeed, in this part of the country they seldom think of keeping bread ready made, but just prepare sufficient for the meal about half an hour before it is wanted, and then serve it hot. Unable therefore to procure any food, and fatigued with a long journey during a parching day, I threw myself down on one of the beds in my clothes, and enjoyed a profound repose, notwithstanding the repeated onsets of the bugs and other vermin with which I was molested.
Besides the tavern and the quarters of the slaves, there is but one more building at this place. This is a large farm house, where people that resort to the springs are accommodated with lodgings, about as good as those at the tavern. These habitations stand in the center of a cleared spot of land of about fifty acres, surrounded entirely with wood. The springs are just on the margin of the wood, at the bottom of a slope, which begins at the houses, and are covered with a few boards, merely to keep the leaves from falling in. The waters are chalybeate, and are drank chiefly by persons from the low country, whose constitutions have been relaxed by the heats of summer.
SNAKES.
MOUNTAINS.
Having breakfasted in the morning at this miserable little place, I proceeded on my journey up the South-west Mountain. In the course of this day’s ride I observed a great number of snakes, which were now beginning to come forth from their holes. I killed a black one, that I found sleeping, stretched across the road; it was five feet in length. The black snake is more commonly met with than any other in this part of America, and is usually from four to six feet in length. In proportion to the length it is extremely slender; the back is perfectly black, the belly lead colour, inclining to white towards the throat. The bite of this snake is not poisonous, and the people in that country are not generally inclined to kill it, from its great utility in destroying rats and mice. It is wonderfully fond of milk, and is frequently found in the dairies, which in Virginia are for the most part in low situations, like cellars, as the milk could not otherwise be kept sweet for two hours together in summer time. The black snake, at the time of copulation, immediately pursues any person who comes in sight, and with such swiftness, that the best runner cannot escape from him upon even ground. Many other sorts of harmless snakes are found here, some of which are beautifully variegated, as the garter, the ribbon, the blueish green snake, &c. &c. Of the venomous kind, the most common are the rattle snake, and the copper or moccassin snake. The former is found chiefly on the mountains; but although frequently met with, it is very rarely that people are bitten by it; scarcely a summer, however, passes over without several being bit by the copper snake. The poison of the latter is not so subtile as that of the rattle snake, but it is very injurious, and if not attended to in time, death will certainly ensue. The rattle snake is very dull, and never attacks a person that does not molest him; but, at the same time, he will not turn out of the way to avoid any one; before he bites, he always gives notice by shaking his rattles, so that a person that hears them can readily get out of his way. The copper snake, on the contrary, is more active and treacherous, and, it is said, will absolutely put himself in the way of a person to bite him. Snakes are neither so numerous nor so venomous in the northern as in the southern states. Horses, cows, dogs, and fowl seem to have an innate sense of the danger they are exposed to from these poisonous reptiles, and will shew evident symptoms of fear on approaching near them, although they are dead; but what is remarkable, hogs, so far from being afraid of them, pursue and devour them with the greatest avidity, totally regardless of their bites. It is supposed that the great quantity of fat, with which they are furnished, prevents the poison from operating on their bodies as on those of other animals. Hog’s lard, it might therefore reasonably be conjectured, would be a good remedy for the bite of a snake: however, I never heard cf its being tried; the people generally apply herbs to the wound, the specific qualities of which are well known. It is a remarkable instance of the bounty of providence, that in all those parts of the country where these venomous reptiles abound, those herbs which are the most certain antidote to the poison are found in the greatest plenty.