At most villages along the Amoor I found the crow and magpie abundant and very tame. At Blagoveshchensk several of these birds amused me in sharing the dinner of some hogs to the great disgust of the latter. When the meal was finished they lighted on the backs of the hogs and would not dismount until the latter rolled in the dirt. No one appears to think them worth shooting, and I presume they do no damage.
One day walking on shore I saw a flock of pigeons, and returned to the boat for Borasdine’s gun. As I took it I remarked that I would shoot a few pigeons for dinner.
“Never think of it,” said my friend.
“And why?”
“Because you will make the peasants your enemies. The news would spread that you had killed a pigeon, and every peasant would dislike you.”
“For what reason?”
“The pigeon or dove is held sacred throughout Russia. He is the living symbol of the Holy Spirit in the faith of the Eastern church, and he brought the olive branch to The Ark when the flood had ceased. No Russian would harm one of these birds, and for you to do so would show disrespect to the religion of the country.”
I went on shore again, but without a gun.
Every day we saw rafts moving with the stream or tied along the shore. They were of logs cut on the upper Amoor, and firmly fastened with poles and withes. An emigrant piles his wagon and household goods on a raft, and makes a pen at one side to hold his cattle. Two or three families, with as many wagons and a dozen or twenty animals, were frequently on one raft. A pile of earth was the fire place, and there was generally a tent or shelter of some kind. Cattle were fed with hay carried on board, or were turned ashore at night to graze.
