Here at Mill Grove, while yet a boy, he planned his great work, the "Birds of America," their habits, and a description of them. This one idea dominated Audubon's life. Through poverty and suffering, this one desire was ever before him. It is well to plan early in life what we wish to do, and then do it.
One writer has well said of Audubon: "For sixty years or more he followed, with more than religious devotion, a beautiful and devoted pursuit, enlarging its boundaries by his discoveries, and illustrating its objects by his art. In all climates and in all weathers; scorched by burning suns, drenched by piercing rains, frozen by the fiercest colds: now diving fearlessly into the densest forest, now wandering alone over the most savage regions; in perils, in difficulties, and in doubts; with no companion to cheer his way, far from the smiles and applause of society; listening only to the sweet music of birds, or to the sweeter music of his own thoughts, he faithfully kept his path.
"The records of man's life contain few nobler examples of strength of purpose and indefatigable energy. Led on solely by his pure, lofty, kindling enthusiasm, no thirst for wealth, no desire of distinction, no restless ambition of eccentric character, could have induced him to undergo as many sacrifices, or sustained him under so many trials. Higher principles and worthier motives alone enabled him to meet such discouragements and accomplish such miracles of achievement. He has enlarged and enriched the domains of a pleasing and useful science; he has revealed to us the existence of many species of birds before unknown; he has given us more accurate information of the forms and habits of those that were known; he has corrected the blunders of his predecessors; and he has imparted to the study of natural history the grace and fascination of romance."
At Mill Grove he came near losing his life, on a duck-shooting expedition, by falling through an air hole in the ice. It was three months before he recovered.
At this time "a partner, tutor, and monitor," Da Costa, whom Audubon's father had sent over to superintend a lead-mine enterprise at Mill Grove, refused to give money to the son and objected to his marrying Lucy Bakewell. Resenting the dictation of Da Costa, young Audubon determined to go to France and lay the matter before his father. Da Costa would give him no money, but a letter of credit upon an agent in New York. The youth, nothing daunted, walked all the way to New York, was refused the money by the agent, who hinted that the lad should be seized and shipped to China, borrowed his passage money, went to France, caused the removal of Da Costa, and obtained his father's consent to his marriage. For a year he resided at Nantes, shooting, stuffing birds, and drawing for his beloved book. Then all Frenchmen being liable to conscription under Napoleon, the Commodore obtained leave for his son to return to America.
Once again he was at his dear Mill Grove. In his room "the walls were festooned with all sorts of birds' eggs, carefully blown out and strung on a thread. The chimney piece was covered with stuffed squirrels, raccoons, and opossums, and the shelves around were likewise crowded with specimens, among which were fishes, frogs, snakes, lizards and other reptiles."
Lucy's father, concluding that the study of natural history might not bring pecuniary support for his daughter, suggested to Audubon that he obtain some knowledge of commercial pursuits. Love seldom asks about ways and means; too seldom, in fact, for subsequent happiness. Audubon entered the counting-house of Mr. Benjamin Bakewell of New York, and soon lost some hundreds of pounds by a bad speculation in indigo. The drying of bird's skins in his rooms was so disagreeable to his neighbors that a message was sent him, through a constable, insisting on his abating the nuisance!
Finance did not seem the specialty of the young man, and he returned to Mill Grove.
Dear as the place was to him, he sold it, invested the capital in goods, married Lucy Bakewell, April 8, 1808, when he was twenty-eight years old, and started for the West. They were twelve days in sailing down the Ohio River in a flat-bottomed float, called an ark. He engaged in trade at Louisville, and the young couple were extremely happy. Fortunate it was that they had these few months of comfort, for hardship was soon to test their affection.
The war of 1812 so crippled business that he and his partner decided to go to Hendersonville, while Lucy and her infant son went home to her father for a year. If Mr. Bakewell ever regretted the choice which his daughter had made, she did not, and never failed, when days were darkest, to encourage him to write and win renown. When all others bemoaned his lack of business success, and his devotion to a non-paying pursuit, she alone was his comforter, and was willing to suffer poverty if thus his great work might be done.