Transcriber's Note:

Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

The following inconsistencies were noted and retained:

• subterminal and sub-terminal
• College Yard and College-yard
• Jer falcon and Jerfalcon
• foreneck and fore-neck
• acknowledgement and acknowledgment
• Hackmatack, Hackmetack, hackmitack
• Piercey and Piercy
• gray and grey
• Magdalene, Magdeleine, Magdaleine Islands
• Pittsburg and Pittsburgh
• Schuylkil and Schuylkill
• vermilion and vermillion
• grouse and grous
• aerial and ærial
• teasing and teazing
• sunrise and sun-rise
• characterised, characterized
• Huckleberry and Huckle-berry
• cupshaped and cup-shaped
• Bunting and Buntling
• pokeweed and poke-weed
• Red-wing and Redwing
• Charleston and Charlestown
• Linnæan and Linnean
• north-eastern and northeastern
• dog wood and dog-wood.

The following are possible errors, but retained:

• befal
• racoon
• persimons
• musquitoes
• tarpauling
• mollasses
• Carribbean
• tipt
• capt
• Chesapeak
• cruize
• chuse
• begrimmed
• Marratees
• pacan.

In the entries for the [Rosa Rubiginosa] and [Fringilla Zonotrichia], the question marks are as printed.

In the entry for the [Cardinal Grosbeak], the author says, "I have represented a pair of these beautiful birds on a branch of the Wild Olive." but the following entry is for the [Wild Almond].

In the entry for the [Pinnated Grous], a page number is missing.

In the entry for the [Great American Shrike], the volume number for Amer. Ornith. is missing.

Headings are missing for a number of the plant sections.

The Errata on [page 580] have been corrected in the text.

Links are provided to Volume 1 of this work. The links are designed to work when the book is read on line. If you want to download that volume and use the links, you will need to change the links to point to the file name on your own device.

• Download Volume 1 at http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56989.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY,

OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF THE

BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA;

ACCOMPANIED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF THE OBJECTS REPRESENTED IN THE WORK ENTITLED

THE BIRDS OF AMERICA,

AND INTERSPERSED WITH DELINEATIONS OF AMERICAN SCENERY AND MANNERS.

BY JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, F.R.S.S.L. & E.

FELLOW OF THE LINNEAN AND ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON; MEMBER OF THE LYCEUM OF NEW YORK, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF PARIS, THE WERNERIAN NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH; HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY OF MANCHESTER, AND OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY OF PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE; MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, OF THE ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES AT PHILADELPHIA, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETIES OF BOSTON, OF CHARLESTON IN SOUTH CAROLINA, &C. &C.

VOL. II.

EDINBURGH:

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;

LONGMAN, REES, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN, LONDON; R. HAVELL, ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, LONDON; THOMAS SOWLER, MANCHESTER; MRS ROBINSON, LEEDS; ALEXANDER HILL, EDINBURGH; BEILBY, KNOTT & BEILBY, BIRMINGHAM; E. CHARNLEY, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE; AND GEORGE SMITH, LIVERPOOL.

MDCCCXXXIV.

PRINTED BY NEILL & CO. Old Fishmarket, Edinburgh.

INTRODUCTION.

When, for the first time, I left my father, and all the dear friends of my youth, to cross the great ocean that separates my native shores from those of the eastern world, my heart sunk within me. While the breezes wafted along the great ship that from La Belle France conveyed me towards the land of my birth, the lingering hours were spent in deep sorrow or melancholy musing. Even the mighty mass of waters that heaved around me excited little interest: my affections were with those I had left behind, and the world seemed to me a great wilderness. At length I reached the country in which my eyes first opened to the light; I gazed with rapture upon its noble forests, and no sooner had I landed, than I set myself to mark every object that presented itself, and became imbued with an anxious desire to discover the purpose and import of that nature which lay spread around me in luxuriant profusion. But ever and anon the remembrance of the kind parent, from whom I had been parted by uncontrollable circumstances, filled my mind, and as I continued my researches, and penetrated deeper into the forest, I daily became more anxious to return to him, and to lay at his feet the simple results of my multiplied exertions.

Reader, since I left you, I have felt towards you as towards that parent. When I parted from him he evinced his sorrow; when I returned he met me with an affectionate smile. If my recollection of your kind indulgence has not deceived me, I carried with me to the western world your wish that I should return to you; and the desire of gratifying that wish, ever present with me as I wandered amidst the deep forests, or scaled the rugged rocks, in regions which I visited expressly for the purpose of studying nature and pleasing you, has again brought me into your presence:—I have returned to present you with all that seems most interesting in my collections. Should you accept the offering, and again smile benignantly upon me, I shall be content and happy.

Soon after the engraving of my work commenced, I bade adieu to my valued friends in Edinburgh, whose many kindnesses were deeply impressed on my heart. The fair city gradually faded from my sight, and, as I crossed the dreary heaths of the Lammermoor, the mental prospect became clouded; but my spirits revived as I entered the grounds of Mr Selby of Twizel House, for in him I knew I possessed a friend. The few days spent under his most hospitable roof, and the many pleasures I enjoyed there, I shall ever remember with gratitude.

I was then on my way to London, which I had never yet visited. The number of letters given me to facilitate my entry into the metropolis of England, and to aid me in procuring subscribers to my work, accumulated during my progress. At Newcastle-upon-Tyne I made my next halt. There the venerable Bewick, the Adamsons, the Turners, the Donkins, the Buddles, the Charnleys and others, received me with great kindness, and helped to increase my list of subscribers. The noble family of the Ravensworths I also added to my friends, and from them I have since received important benefits, particularly from the Honourable Thomas Liddell, whose partiality for my pursuits induced him to evince a warm interest in my favour, which I shall ever acknowledge with feelings of affection and esteem.

It was there, reader, that, as my predecessor Wilson had done in America, I for the first time in England exhibited some engravings of my work, together with the contents of my portfolios. I cannot say that the employment was a pleasant one to me, nor do I believe it was so to him; but by means of it he at the time acquired that fame, of which I also was desirous of obtaining a portion; and, knowing that should I be successful, it would greatly increase the happiness of my wife and children, I waged war against my feelings, and welcomed all, who, from love of science, from taste, or from generosity, manifested an interest in the "American Woodsman."

See him, reader, in a room crowded by visitors, holding at arm's length each of his large drawings, listening to the varied observations of the lookers on, and feel, as he now and then did, the pleasure which he experienced when some one placed his sign manual on the list. This occupation was continued all the way until I reached the skirts of London; but the next place to which I went was the city of York, where I formed acquaintance with a congenial spirit, Mr Phillips, who is now well known to you as an eminent Professor of Geology. There also I admired the magnificent Minster, within whose sacred walls I in silence offered up my humble prayer to heaven.

At Leeds, the Gotts, the Bankses, the Walkers, the Marshalls, the Davys, were all extremely kind to me, and I found a fine museum belonging to the most interesting and amiable family of the Calverts, in whose society my evenings were chiefly spent.

On my second visit to Manchester I obtained upwards of twenty subscribers in one week, and became acquainted with persons whose friendship has never failed. Of them I may particularly mention the Dyers, the Kennedys, the Darbishires, and the Sowlers.

Having once more reached the hospitable home of the Rathbones at Liverpool, I felt my heart expand within me, and I poured forth my thanks to my Maker for the many favours which I had in so short a period received. I read to my friends the names of more than seventy subscribers to my "Birds of America."

My journey was continued through Chester, Birmingham, and Oxford, and I passed in view of the regal and magnificent Castle of Windsor. The impression made on my mind the day I reached the very heart of London I am unable to describe. Suffice it, kind reader, to tell you that many were the alternations of hope and fear as I traversed the vast metropolis. I cannot give you an adequate idea of my horror or of my admiration, when on the one side I saw pallid poverty groping in filth and rags, and turning away almost in despair, beheld the huge masses of the noblest monument ever raised to St Paul, which reminded me of the power and grandeur of man;—and along with the thronging crowds I moved, like them intent on making my way through the world.

Eighty-two letters of introduction were contained in my budget. Besides these I was the bearer of general letters from Henry Clay, Speaker of the House of Congress, General Andrew Jackson, and other individuals in America, to all our diplomatists and consuls in Europe and elsewhere. Thus, reader, you will perceive that I had some foundation for the hope that I should acquire friends in the great city.

In May 1827, I reached that emporium of the productions of all climes and nations. After gazing a day on all that I saw of wonderful and interesting, I devoted the rest to visiting. Guided by a map, I proceeded along the crowded streets, and endeavoured to find my way through the vast labyrinth. From one great man's door to another I went; but judge of my surprise, reader, when, after wandering the greater part of three successive days, early and late, and at all hours, I had not found a single individual at home!

Wearied and disappointed, I thought my only chance of getting my letters delivered was to consign them to the post, and accordingly I handed them all over to its care, excepting one, which was addressed to "J. G. Children, Esq. British Museum." Thither I now betook myself, and was delighted to meet with that kind and generous person, whose friendship I have enjoyed ever since. He it was who pointed out to me the great error I had committed in having put my letters into the post-office, and the evil arising from this step is perhaps still hanging over me, for it has probably deprived me of the acquaintance of half of the persons to whom they were addressed. In the course of a week, about half a dozen of the gentlemen who had read my letters, left their cards at my rooms. By degrees I became acquainted with a few of them, and my good friend of the Museum introduced me to others. I renewed my acquaintance with the benevolent Lord Stanley, and became known to other noblemen, liberal like himself. Soon after I was elected a Member of the Linnæan and Zoological Societies.

About this time, the Prince of Musignano, so well known for his successful cultivation of Natural History, arrived in London. He found me out through the medium of the learned geologist Featherstonhaugh, and one evening I had the pleasure of receiving a visit from him, accompanied by that gentleman, Mr Vigors, and some other persons. I felt happy in having once more by my side my first ornithological adviser, and that amiable and highly talented friend, with the accomplished geologist, remained with me until a late hour. Their departure affected me with grief, and since that period I have not seen the Prince. For several months I occupied myself with painting in oil, and attending to the progress of my plates. I now became acquainted with that eminent and amiable painter, Sir Thomas Lawrence, through a kindred spirit, Thomas Sully of Philadelphia; from both of whom, at different periods, I have received advice with reference to their enchanting art. One morning I had the good fortune to receive a visit from Mr Swainson, whose skill as a naturalist every one knows, and who has ever since been my substantial friend. M. Temminck also called, as did other scientific individuals, among whom was my ever-valued friend Robert Bakewell, whose investigations have tended so much to advance the progress of geology; and as my acquaintance increased I gradually acquired happiness. Having visited those renowned seats of learning, Cambridge and Oxford, I became acquainted at the former with the Vice-Chancellor Mr Davie, Professors Sedgwick, Whewell, and Henslow, the Right Honourable Wentworth Fitzwilliam, John Lodge, Esq. Dr Thackery, and many other gentlemen of great learning and talent; at the latter, with Dr Buckland, Dr Kidd, and others. These Universities afforded me several subscribers.

In the summer of 1828, my friend Swainson and I went to Paris, where I became acquainted with the great Cuvier, Geoffroy St Hilaire, his son Isidore, M. Dorbigny, and M. Lesson, as well as that master of flower-painters M. Redouté, and other persons eminent in science and the arts. Our time in Paris was usefully and agreeably spent. We were gratified at the liberality with which every object that we desired to examine in the great Museum of France was submitted to our inspection. Many of our evenings were spent under the hospitable roof of Baron Cuvier, where the learned of all countries usually assembled. Through the influence of my noble-spirited friend M. Redouté, I was introduced to the Duke of Orleans, now King of the French, and to several Ministers of State. The hour spent with Louis Phillippe and his Son, was, by their dignified urbanity, rendered one of the most agreeable that has fallen to my lot; and in consequence of that interview I procured many patrons and friends.

Returning to England, I spent the winter there, and in April 1829, sailed for America. With what pleasure did I gaze on each setting sun, as it sunk in the far distant west! with what delight did I mark the first wandering American bird that hovered over the waters! and how joyous were my feelings when I saw a pilot on our deck! I leaped on the shore, scoured the woods of the Middle States, and reached Louisiana in the end of November. Accompanied by my wife, I left New Orleans on the 8th of January 1830, and sailing from New York on the 1st of April, we had the pleasure, after a voyage of twenty-five days, of landing in safety at Liverpool, and finding our friends and relations well. When I arrived in London, my worthy friend J. G. Children, Esq. presented me with a Diploma from the Royal Society. Such an honour conferred on an American Woodsman could not but be highly gratifying to him. I took my seat in the hall, and had the pleasure of pressing the hand of the learned President with a warm feeling of esteem. I believe I am indebted for this mark of favour more particularly to Lord Stanley and Mr Children.

And now, kind reader, having traced my steps to the period when I presented you with my first volume of Illustrations and that of my Ornithological Biographies, allow me to continue my narrative.

Previous to my departure from England, on a second visit to the United States, I had the honour and gratification of being presented to his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, who graciously favoured me with a general letter of recommendation to the authorities in the British colonies. With others of a similar nature I was also honoured by the Noble Lords Stanley, Palmerston, Howick, and Goderich.

We sailed on the 1st of August 1831, and landed at New York, where I spent a few days only, and proceeded to Philadelphia. There I found my old and firm friends Harlan, Wetherell, Pickering, Sully, Norris, Walsh, and others, a few subscribers, and some diplomas. I had now two assistants, one from London, Mr Ward, the other a highly talented Swiss, Mr George Lehman. At Washington I received from the heads of our Government letters of assistance and protection along the frontiers, which it was my intention to visit. For these acts of kindness and encouragement, without which my researches would have been more arduous and less efficient, I am much indebted, and gratefully offer my acknowledgments, to Major-General M'Comb, General Jessup, General Gratiot, the Honourable Messrs M'Lean, Livingston, and Woodbury, to Colonel John Abert, and others, whose frank and prompt attentions will never be forgotten by me. I need not say that towards our President and the enlightened members of the civil, military, and naval departments, I felt the deepest gratitude for the facilities which they thus afforded me. All received me in the kindest manner, and accorded to me whatever I desired of their hands. How often did I think of the error committed by Wilson, when, instead of going to Washington, and presenting himself to President Jefferson, he forwarded his application through an uncertain medium. He, like myself, would doubtless have been received with favour, and obtained his desire. How often have I thought of the impression his piercing eye would have made on the discriminating and learned President, to whom, in half the time necessary for reading a letter, he might have said six times as much as it contained. But, alas! Wilson, instead of presenting himself, sent a substitute, which, it seems, was not received by the President, and which, therefore, could not have answered the intended end. How pleasing was it to me to find in our Republic, young as she is, the promptitude to encourage science occasionally met with in other countries. Methinks I am now bidding adieu to the excellent men who so kindly received me, and am still feeling the pressure of their hands indicative of a cordial wish for the success of my undertaking. May He who gave me being and inspired me with a desire to study his wondrous works, grant me the means of proving to my country the devotedness with which I strive to render myself not unworthy of her!

We now proceeded swiftly down the broad Chesapeak Bay, reached Norfolk, and removing into another steamer bound to the capital of Virginia, soon arrived at Richmond. Having made acquaintance, many years before, in Kentucky, with the governor of that State, the Honourable John Floyd, I went directly to him, was received in the kindest manner, and furnished with letters of introduction; after which we proceeded southward until we arrived at Charleston in South Carolina. It was there that I formed an acquaintance, now matured into a highly valued friendship, with the Rev. John Bachman, a proficient in general science, and in particular in zoology and botany, and one whose name you will often meet with in the course of my biographies. But I cannot refrain from describing to you my first interview with this generous friend, and mentioning a few of the many pleasures I enjoyed under his hospitable roof, and in the company of his most interesting family and connections.

It was late in the afternoon when we took our lodgings in Charleston. Being fatigued, and having written the substance of my journey to my family, and delivered a letter to the Rev. Mr Gilman, I retired to rest. At the first glimpse of day the following morning, my assistants and myself were already several miles from the city, commencing our search in the fields and woods, and having procured abundance of subjects both for the pencil and the scalpel, we returned home, covered with mud, and so accoutred as to draw towards us the attention of every person in the streets. As we approached the boarding house, I observed a gentleman on horseback close to our door. He looked at me, came up, inquired if my name was Audubon, and on being answered in the affirmative, instantly leaped from his saddle, shook me most cordially by the hand—there is much to be expressed and understood by a shake of the hand—and questioned me in so kind a manner, that I for a while felt doubtful how to reply. At his urgent desire, I removed to his house, as did my assistants. Suitable apartments were assigned to us, and once introduced to the lovely and interesting group that composed his family, I seldom passed a day without enjoying their society. Servants, carriages, horses, and dogs, were all at our command, and friends accompanied us to the woods and plantations, and formed parties for water excursions. Before I left Charleston, I was truly sensible of the noble and generous spirit of the hospitable Carolinians.

Having sailed for the Floridas, we, after some delay, occasioned by adverse winds, put into a harbour near St Simon's Island, where I was so fortunate as to meet with Thomas Butler King, Esq. who, after replenishing our provision-stores, subscribed to the "Birds of America." At length we were safely landed at St Augustine, and commenced our investigation. Of my sojourn in Florida, during the winter of 1831-32, you will find some account in this volume. Returning to Charleston, we passed through Savannah, respecting my short stay in which city you will also find some particulars in the sequel. At Charleston we lived with my friend Bachman, and continued our occupations. In the beginning of April, through the influence of letters from the Honourable Lewis M'Lean, of the Treasury Department, and the prompt assistance of Colonel J. Pringle, we went on board the revenue cutter the "Marion," commanded by Robert Day, Esq., to whose friendly attention I am greatly indebted for the success which I met with in my pursuits, during his cruize along the dangerous coast of East Florida, and amongst the islets that every where rise from the surface of the ocean, like gigantic water-lilies. At Indian Key, the Deputy-Collector, Mr Thruston, afforded me important aid; and at Key West I enjoyed the hospitality of Major Glassel, his officers, and their families, as well as of my friend Dr Benjamin Strobel, and other inhabitants of that singular island, to all of whom I now sincerely offer my best thanks for the pleasure which their society afforded me, and the acquisitions which their ever ready assistance enabled me to make.

Having examined every part of the coast which it was the duty of the commander of the Marion to approach, we returned to Charleston with our numerous prizes, and shortly afterwards I bent my course eastwards, anxious to keep pace with the birds during their migrations. With the assistance of my friend Bachman, I now procured for my assistant Mr Ward, a situation of ease and competence, in the Museum of the Natural History Society of Charleston, and Mr Lehman returned to his home. At Philadelphia I was joined by my family, and once more together we proceeded towards Boston. That dreadful scourge the cholera was devastating the land, and spreading terror around its course. We left Philadelphia under its chastising hand, and arrived at New York, where it was raging, while a heavy storm that suddenly burst over our heads threw an additional gloom over the devoted city, already bereft of a great part of her industrious inhabitants. After spending a day with our good friends and relatives, we continued our journey, and arrived at Boston.

Boston! Ah! reader, my heart fails me when I think of the estimable friends whose society afforded me so much pleasure in that beautiful city, the Athens of our Western World. Never, I fear, shall I have it in my power to return a tithe of the hospitality which was there shewn towards us, or of the benevolence and generosity which we experienced, and which evidently came from the heart, without the slightest mixture of ostentation. Indeed, I must acknowledge that although I have been happy in forming many valuable friendships in various parts of the world, all dearly cherished by me, the outpouring of kindness which I experienced at Boston far exceeded all that I have ever met with.

Who that has visited that fair city, has not admired her site, her universities, her churches, her harbours, the pure morals of her people, the beautiful country around her, gladdened by glimpses of villas, each vying with another in neatness and elegance? Who that has made his pilgrimage to her far-famed Bunker's Hill, entered her not less celebrated Fanneuil Hall, studied the history of her infancy, her progress, her indignant patriotism, her bloody strife, and her peaceful prosperity—that has moreover experienced, as I have done, the beneficence of her warm-hearted and amiable sons—and not felt his bosom glow with admiration and love? Think of her Adamses, her Perkins, her Everetts, her Peabodys, Cushings, Quinceys, Storeys, Paines, Greens, Tudors, Davises, and Pickerings, whose public and private life presents all that we deem estimable, and let them be bright examples of what the citizens of a free land ought to be. But besides these honourable individuals whom I have taken the liberty of mentioning, many others I could speak of with delight, and one I would point out in particular, as he to whom my deepest gratitude is due, one whom I cannot omit mentioning, because, of all the good and the estimable, he it is whose remembrance is most dear to me:—that generous friend is George Parkman.

About the middle of August, we left our Boston friends, on our way eastward; and, after rambling here and there, came in sight of Moose Island, on which stands the last frontier town, boldly facing one of the entrances of the Bay of Fundy. The climate was cold, but the hearts of the inhabitants of Eastport were warm. One day sufficed to render me acquainted with all whom I was desirous of knowing. Captain Childs, the commander of the garrison, was most obliging to me, while his wife shewed the greatest kindness to mine, and the brave officers received my sons with brotherly feelings. Think, reader, of the true pleasure we enjoyed when travelling together, and everywhere greeted with so cordial a welcome, while every facility was afforded me in the prosecution of my researches. We made excursions into the country around, ransacked the woods and the shores, and on one occasion had the pleasure of meeting with a general officer in his Britannic Majesty's service, who, on my presenting to him the official documents with which I had been honoured by the Home Department, evinced the greatest desire to be of service to me. We removed for some weeks to Dennisville, a neat little village, where the acquaintance of Judge Lincoln's family rendered our stay exceedingly agreeable. We had, besides, the gratification of being joined by two gentlemen from Boston, one of whom has ever since remained a true friend to me. Time passed away, and having resolved to explore the British provinces of New Brunswick, we proceeded to St John's, where we met with much politeness, and ascending the river of that name, a most beautiful stream, reached Frederickton, where we spent a week. Here Sir Archibald Campbell, Bart. received us with all the urbanity and kindness of his amiable nature. We then ascended the river to some miles below the "Great Falls" parallel to Mar's Hill, and again entered the United States' territory near Woodstock. From this spot we proceeded to Bangor, on the Penobscot river, as you will find detailed in one of my short narratives entitled, "A Journey in New Brunswick and Maine."

Soon after our arrival in Boston, my son Victor Gifford set sail for England, to superintend the publication of my "Birds of America," and we resumed our pursuits, making frequent excursions into the surrounding country. Here I was a witness to the melancholy death of the great Spurzheim, and was myself suddenly attacked by a severe illness, which greatly alarmed my family; but, thanks to Providence, and my medical friends Parkman, Warren, and Shattuck, I was soon enabled to proceed with my labours. A sedentary life and too close application being the cause assigned for my indisposition, I resolved to set out again in quest of fresh materials for my pencil and pen. My wishes directing me to Labrador, I returned eastward with my youngest son, and had the pleasure of being joined by four young gentlemen, all fond of Natural History, and willing to encounter the difficulties and privations of the voyage,—George Shattuck, Thomas Lincoln, William Ingalls, and Joseph Cooledge.

At Eastport in Maine, I chartered a beautiful and fast-sailing schooner, the "Ripley," under the command of Mr Henry W. Emmery, and, through the medium of my government letters, was enabled to visit, in the United States' Revenue Cutters, portions of the Bay of Fundy, and several of the thinly inhabited islands at its entrance. At length the day of our departure for Labrador arrived. The wharf was crowded with all our friends and acquaintance, and as the "star-spangled banner" swiftly glided to the mast-head of our buoyant bark, we were surprised and gratified by a salute from the fort that towers high over the bay. As we passed the Revenue Cutter at anchor, her brave commander paid us the same honour; after which he came on board, and piloted us through a very difficult outlet.

The next day, favoured by a good breeze, we proceeded at a rapid rate and passing through the interesting Gut of Cansso, launched into the broad waters of the Gulf of St Lawrence, and made sail for the Magdeleine Islands. There we spent a few days, and made several valuable observations. Proceeding from thence, we came in view of the famous "Gannet Rock," where countless numbers of Solan Geese sat on their eggs. A heavy gale coming on, away we sped with reefed sails, towards the coast of Labrador, which next morning came in view. The wind had by this time fallen to a moderate breeze, the sky was clear, and every eye was directed towards the land. As we approached it we perceived what we supposed to be hundreds of snow-white sails sporting over the waters, and which we conjectured to be the barks of fishermen; but on nearing them, we found them to be masses of drifting snow and ice, which filled every nook and cove of the rugged shores. Our captain had never been on the coast before, and our pilot proved useless; but the former being a skilful and sagacious seaman, we proceeded with confidence, and after passing a group of fishing boats, the occupiers of many of which we had known at Eastport, we were at length safely anchored in the basin named "American Harbour," where we found several vessels taking in cured fish.

But few days had elapsed, when, one morning, we saw a vessel making towards our anchorage, with the gallant flag of England waving in the breeze, and as she was moored within a cable-length of the Ripley, I soon paid my respects to her commander, Captain Bayfield of the Royal Navy. The politeness of British Naval officers is proverbial, and from the truly frank and cordial reception of this gentleman and his brave "companions in arms," I feel more than ever assured of the truth of this opinion. On board the "Gulnare," there was also an amiable and talented surgeon, who was a proficient in botany. We afterwards met with the vessel in several other harbours.

Of the country of Labrador you will find many detached sketches in this volume, so that for the present it is enough for me to say that having passed the summer there, we sailed on our return for the United States, touched at Newfoundland, explored some of its woods and rivers, and landed at Pictou in Nova Scotia, where we left the Ripley, which proceeded to Eastport with our collections. While at Pictou, we called upon Professor MacCulloch of the University, who received us in the most cordial manner, shewed us his superb collections of Northern Birds, and had the goodness to present me with specimens of skins, eggs, and nests. He did more still, for he travelled forty miles with us, to introduce us to some persons of high station in the Province, who gave us letters for Halifax. There, however, we had the misfortune of finding the individuals to whom we had introductions absent, and being ourselves pressed for time, we remained only a day or two, when we resumed our progress.

Our journey through Nova Scotia was delightful, and, like the birds that, over our heads, or amidst the boughs, were cheerfully moving towards a warmer climate, we proceeded gaily in a southern direction. At St John's in New Brunswick, I had the gratification of meeting with my kind and generous friend Edward Harris, Esq. of New York. Letters from my son in England which he handed to me, compelled me to abandon our contemplated trip, through the woods to Quebec, and I immediately proceeded to Boston. One day only was spent there, when the husband was in the arms of his wife, who with equal tenderness embraced her beloved child.

I had left Eastport with four young gentlemen under my care, some of whom were strangers to me, and I felt the responsibility of my charge, being now and then filled with terror lest any accident should befal them, for they were as adventurous as they were young and active. But thanks to the Almighty, who granted us his protection, I had the satisfaction of restoring them in safety to their friends. And so excellent was the disposition of my young companions, that not a single instance of misunderstanding occurred on the journey to cloud our enjoyment, but the most perfect cordiality was manifested by each towards all the rest. It was a happy moment to me when I delivered them to their parents.

From Boston we proceeded to New York, where I obtained a goodly number of subscribers, and experienced much kindness. My work demanded that I should spend the winter in the south, and therefore I determined to set out immediately. I have frequently thought that my success in this vast undertaking was in part owing to my prompt decision in every thing relating to it. This decision I owe partly to my father, and partly to Benjamin Franklin. We arrived at Charleston in October 1833. At Columbia I formed an acquaintance with Thomas Cooper, the learned President of the College there. Circumstances rendered impracticable my projected trip to the Floridas, and along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, for which reason, after spending the winter in keen research, aided by my friend Bachman, I retraced my steps in March, in company with my wife and son, to New York. At Baltimore, where we spent a week, my friends Messrs Morris, Gilmore, Skinner, and Drs Potter, Edmonston, Geddings, and Ducatell, greatly aided me in augmenting my list of subscribers, as did also my friend Colonel Theodore Anderson. My best acknowledgments are offered to these gentlemen for their polite and kind attentions.

Taking a hurried leave of my friends Messrs Prime, King, Stuveysant, Harris, Lang, Ray, Van Ransselaer, Low, Joseph, Kruger, Buckner, Carman, Peal, Cooper, and the Reverend W. A. Duer, President of the College, we embarked on board the packet ship the North America, commanded by that excellent man and experienced seaman Captain Charles Dixey, with an accession of sixty-two subscribers, and the collections made during nearly three years of travel and research.

In the course of that period, I believe, I have acquired much information relative to the Ornithology of the United States, and in consequence of observations from naturalists on both continents, I embraced every opportunity of forming a complete collection of the various birds portrayed in my work. Until this journey I had attached no value to a skin after the life which gave it lustre had departed: indeed, the sight of one gave me more pain than pleasure. Portions of my collections of skins I sent to my friends in Europe at different times, and in this manner I parted with those of some newly discovered species before I had named them, so careless have I hitherto been respecting "priority." While forming my collection, I have often been pleased to find that many species, which, twenty-five years ago, were scarce and rarely to be met with, are now comparatively abundant;—a circumstance which I attribute to the increase of cultivated land in the United States. I need scarcely add, that the specimens here alluded to have been minutely examined, for the purpose of rendering the specific descriptions as accurate as possible. And here I gladly embrace the opportunity offered of presenting my best thanks to Professor Jameson, for the kindness and liberality with which he has allowed me the free use of the splendid collection of birds in the museum of the University of Edinburgh. Of this privilege I have availed myself in comparing specimens in my own collection with others obtained both in the United States and in other parts of the world.

Ever anxious to please you, and lay before you the best efforts of my pencil, I carefully examined all my unpublished drawings before I departed from England, and since then I have made fresh representations of more than a hundred objects, which had been painted twenty years or more previously. On my latter rambles I have not only procured species not known before, but have also succeeded in obtaining some of those of which Bonaparte and Wilson had only met with single specimens. While in the Floridas and Carolinas, my opportunities of determining the numerous species of Herons, Ibises, Pigeons, &c. were ample, for I lived among them, and carefully studied their habits. One motive for my journey to Labrador was to ascertain the summer plumage and mode of breeding of the Water Birds, which in spring retire thither for the purpose of rearing their young in security, far remote from the haunts of man. Besides accomplishing this object, I also met there with a few species hitherto undescribed.

It has been said by some, that my work on the Birds of America would not terminate until I had added to those of the United States, the numerous species of the southern portion of our continent. Allow me, reader, to refer you in refutation of this assertion to my prospectus, in which it is stated that my work will be completed in four volumes. In whatever other enterprise I may engage, rely upon it I will adhere to my original design in this; and the only change will be, that the period of publication will be shortened, and that there will be added landscapes and views, which were not promised in the prospectus.

From my original intention of publishing all the Land Birds first, I have been induced to deviate, in consequence of letters from my patrons, requesting that, after the conclusion of the second volume, the Water Birds should immediately appear. Indeed the various opinions which my subscribers occasionally express, are not a little perplexing to the "American Woodsman," ever desirous to please all, and to adhere to the method proposed at the commencement of the work. In the fourth and last volume, after the Water Birds, will be represented all that remain unpublished, or that may in the mean time be discovered, of the Land Birds. As I cannot, in the fourth volume, proportion the plates in the same manner as in the other three, the number of large drawings will be much greater in it: but the numbers will still consist of five plates, and I trust my patrons will find the same careful delineation as before, with more perfect engraving and colouring. These last numbers will of course be much more expensive to me than those in which three of the plates were small. The fourth volume will conclude with representations of the eggs of the different species.

You have perhaps observed, or if not, I may be allowed to tell you, that in the first volume of my Illustrations, in which there are 100 plates, 240 figures of birds are given; and that in the second, consisting of the same number of plates, there are 244 figures. The number of species not described by Wilson, are, in the first volume twenty-one, and in the second twenty-four.

Having had but one object in view since I became acquainted with my zealous ornithological friend, the Prince of Musignano, I have spared no time, no labour, no expense, in endeavouring to render my work as perfect as it was possible for me and my family to make it. We have all laboured at it, and every other occupation has been laid aside, that we might present in the best form the Birds of America, to the generous individuals who have placed their names on my subscription list. I shall rejoice if I have in any degree advanced the knowledge of so delightful a study as that which has occupied the greater part of my life.

I have spoken to you, kind reader, more than once of my family. Allow me to introduce them:—my eldest son Victor Gifford, the younger John Woodhouse.—Of their natural or acquired talents it does not become me to speak; but should you some day see the "Quadrupeds of America" published by their united efforts, do not forget that a pupil of David first gave them lessons in drawing, and that a member of the Bakewell family formed their youthful minds.

To England I am as much as ever indebted for support in my hazardous and most expensive undertaking, and more than ever grateful for that assistance without which my present publication might, like an uncherished plant, have died. While I reflect on the unexpected honours bestowed on a stranger through the generous indulgence of her valuable scientific associations, I cannot refrain from expressing my gratitude for the facilities which I have enjoyed under the influence which these societies are spreading over her hospitable lands, as well as in other countries. I feel equally proud and thankful when I have to say that my own dear country is affording me a support equal to that supplied by Europe.

Permit me now to say a few words respecting the persons engaged about my work. I have much pleasure in telling my patrons in Europe and America, that my engraver Mr Havell has improved greatly in the execution of the plates, and that the numbers of the "Birds of America" have appeared with a regularity seldom observed in so large a publication. For this, praise is due not only to Mr Havell, but also to his assistants Mr Blake, Mr Stewart, and Mr Edington.

I have in this, as in my preceding volume, followed the nomenclature of my much valued friend Charles Lucian Bonaparte, and this I intend to do in those which are to come, excepting always those alterations which I may deem absolutely necessary. It is my intention, at the close, to present a general table, exhibiting the geographical distribution of the different species. The order in which the plates have been published, precluding the possibility of arranging the species in a systematic manner, it has not been deemed expedient to enter into the critical remarks as to affinity and grouping, which might otherwise have been made; but at another period I may offer you my ideas on this interesting subject.

And now, reader, allow me to address my excellent friend the Critic. Would that it were in my power to express the feelings that ever since he glanced his eye over my productions, whether brought forth by the pencil or the pen, have filled my heart with the deepest gratitude;—that I could disclose to him how exhilarating have been his smiles, and how useful have been his hints in the prosecution of my enterprise! If he has found reason to bestow his commendations upon my first volume, I trust he will not find the present more defective. Indeed, I can assure him that the labour bestowed upon it by me has been much greater, and that I have exerted every effort to deserve his approbation.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

THE RAVEN.

Corvus Corax, Linn.
PLATE CI. Male.

Leaving to compilers the task of repeating the mass of fabulous and unedifying matter that has been accumulated in the course of ages, respecting this and other remarkable species of birds, and arranging the materials which I have obtained during years of laborious but gratifying observation, I now resume my attempts to delineate the manners of the feathered denizens of our American woods and plains. In treating of the birds represented in the Second Volume of my Plates, as I have done with respect to those of the First, I will confine myself to the particulars which I have been able to gather in the course of a life chiefly spent in studying the birds of my native land, where I have had abundant opportunities of contemplating their manners, and of admiring the manifestations of the glorious perfections of their Omnipotent Creator.

There, amid the tall grass of the far-extended prairies of the West, in the solemn forests of the North, on the heights of the midland mountains, by the shores of the boundless ocean, and on the bosom of the vast lakes and magnificent rivers, have I sought to search out the things which have been hidden since the creation of this wondrous world, or seen only by the naked Indian, who has, for unknown ages, dwelt in the gorgeous but melancholy wilderness. Who is the stranger to my own dear country that can form an adequate conception of the extent of its primeval woods,—of the glory of those columnar trunks, that for centuries have waved in the breeze, and resisted the shock of the tempest,—of the vast bays of our Atlantic coasts, replenished by thousands of streams, differing in magnitude, as differ the stars that sparkle in the expanse of the pure heavens,—of the diversity of aspect in our western plains, our sandy southern shores, interspersed with reedy swamps, and the cliffs that protect our eastern coasts,—of the rapid currents of the Mexican Gulf, and the rushing tide streams of the Bay of Fundy,—of our ocean-lakes, our mighty rivers, our thundering cataracts, our majestic mountains, rearing their snowy heads into the calm regions of the clear cold sky? Would that I could delineate to you the varied features of that loved land! But, unwilling, as I always am, to attempt the description of objects beyond my comprehension, you will, I hope, allow me to tell you all that I know of those which I have admired in youth, and studied in manhood,—for the acquisition of which I have braved the enervating heats of the south, and the cramping colds of the north, penetrated the tangled cane-swamp, thrid the dubious trail of the silent forest, paddled my frail canoe in the creeks of the marshy shore, and swept in my gallant bark o'er the swelling waves of the ocean. And now, Kind Reader, let me resume my descriptions, and proceed towards the completion of a task which, with reverence would I say it, seems to have been imposed upon me by Him who called me into existence.

In the United States, the Raven is in some measure a migratory bird, individuals retiring to the extreme south during severe winters, but returning towards the Middle, Western, and Northern Districts, at the first indications of milder weather. A few are known to breed in the mountainous portions of South Carolina, but instances of this kind are rare, and are occasioned merely by the security afforded by inaccessible precipices, in which they may rear their young. Their usual places of resort are the mountains, the abrupt banks of rivers, the rocky shores of lakes, and the cliffs of thinly-peopled or deserted islands. It is in such places that these birds must be watched and examined, before one can judge of their natural habits, as manifested amid their freedom from the dread of their most dangerous enemy, the lord of the creation.

There, through the clear and rarified atmosphere, the Raven spreads his glossy wings and tail, and, as he onward sails, rises higher and higher each bold sweep that he makes, as if conscious that the nearer he approaches the sun, the more splendent will become the tints of his plumage. Intent on convincing his mate of the fervour and constancy of his love, he now gently glides beneath her, floats in the buoyant air, or sails by her side. Would that I could describe to you, reader, the many musical inflections by means of which they hold converse during these amatory excursions! These sounds doubtless express their pure conjugal feelings, confirmed and rendered more intense by long years of happiness in each other's society. In this manner they may recall the pleasing remembrance of their youthful days, recount the events of their life, express the pleasure they have enjoyed, and perhaps conclude with humble prayer to the Author of their being for a continuation of it.

Now, their matins are over; the happy pair are seen to glide towards the earth in spiral lines; they alight on the boldest summit of a rock, so high that you can scarcely judge of their actual size; they approach each other, their bills meet, and caresses are exchanged as tender as those of the gentle Turtle Dove. Far beneath, wave after wave dashes in foam against the impregnable sides of the rocky tower, the very aspect of which would be terrific to almost any other creatures than the sable pair, which for years have resorted to it, to rear the dearly-cherished fruits of their connubial love. Midway between them and the boiling waters, some shelving ledge conceals their eyry. To it they now betake themselves, to see what damage it has sustained from the peltings of the winter tempests. Off they fly to the distant woods for fresh materials with which to repair the breach; or on the plain they collect the hair and fur of quadrupeds; or from the sandy beach pick up the weeds that have been washed there. By degrees, the nest is enlarged and trimmed, and when every thing has been rendered clean and comfortable, the female deposits her eggs, and begins to sit upon them, while her brave and affectionate mate protects and feeds her, and at intervals takes her place.

All around is now silent, save the hoarse murmur of the waves, or the whistling sounds produced by the flight of the waterfowl travelling towards the northern regions. At length the young burst the shell, when the careful parents, after congratulating each other on the happy event, disgorge some half-macerated food, which they deposit in their tender mouths. Should the most daring adventurer of the air approach, he is attacked with fury and repelled. As the young grow up, they are urged to be careful and silent:—a single false movement might precipitate them into the abyss below; a single cry during the absence of their parents might bring upon them the remorseless claws of the swift Peregrine or Jerfalcon. The old birds themselves seem to improve in care, diligence, and activity, varying their course when returning to their home, and often entering it when unexpected. The young are now seen to stand on the edge of the nest; they flap their wings, and at length take courage and fly to some more commodious and not distant lodgment. Gradually they become able to follow their parents abroad, and at length search for maintenance in their company, and that of others, until the period of breeding arrives, when they separate in pairs, and disperse.

Notwithstanding all the care of the Raven, his nest is invaded wherever it is found. His usefulness is forgotten, his faults are remembered and multiplied by imagination; and whenever he presents himself he is shot at, because from time immemorial ignorance, prejudice, and destructiveness have operated on the mind of man to his detriment. Men will peril their lives to reach his nest, assisted by ropes and poles, alleging merely that he has killed one of their numerous sheep or lambs. Some say they destroy the Raven because he is black; others, because his croaking is unpleasant and ominous! Unfortunate truly are the young ones that are carried home to become the wretched pets of some ill-brought-up child! For my part, I admire the Raven, because I see much in him calculated to excite our wonder. It is true that he may sometimes hasten the death of a half-starved sheep, or destroy a weakly lamb; he may eat the eggs of other birds, or occasionally steal from the farmer some of those which he calls his own; young fowls also afford precious morsels to himself and his progeny;—but how many sheep, lambs, and fowls, are saved through his agency! The more intelligent of our farmers are well aware that the Raven destroys numberless insects, grubs, and worms; that he kills mice, moles, and rats, whenever he can find them; that he will seize the weasel, the young opossum, and the skunk; that, with the perseverance of a cat, he will watch the burrows of foxes, and pounce on the cubs; our farmers also are fully aware that he apprises them of the wolf's prowlings around their yard, and that he never intrudes on their corn fields except to benefit them;—yes, good reader, the farmer knows all this well, but he also knows his power, and, interfere as you may, with tale of pity or of truth, the bird is a Raven, and, as Lafontaine has aptly and most truly said, "La loi du plus fort est toujours la meilleure!"

The flight of the Raven is powerful, even, and at certain periods greatly protracted. During calm and fair weather it often ascends to an immense height, sailing there for hours at a time; and although it cannot be called swift, it propels itself with sufficient power to enable it to contend with different species of hawks, and even with eagles when attacked by them. It manages to guide its course through the thickest fogs of the countries of the north, and is able to travel over immense tracts of land or water without rest.

The Raven is omnivorous, its food consisting of small animals of every kind, eggs, dead fish, carrion, shell-fish, insects, worms, nuts, berries, and other kinds of fruit. I have never seen one attack a large living animal, as the Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow are wont to do; but I have known it follow hunters when without dogs, to feed on the offals of the game, and carry off salted fish when placed in a spring to freshen. It often rises in the air with a shell-fish for the purpose of breaking it by letting it fall on a rock. Its sight is exceedingly acute, but its smell, if it possess the sense, is weak. In this respect, it bears a great resemblance to our vultures.

The breeding season of this bird varies, according to the latitude, from the beginning of January to that of June. I have found young Ravens on the banks of the Lehigh and the Susquehannah rivers on the 1st of May; about ten days later on those of the majestic Hudson; in the beginning of June on the island of Grand Manan off the Bay of Fundy; and at Labrador, as late as the middle of July. The nest is always placed in the most inaccessible part of rocks that can be found, never, I believe, on trees, at least in America. It is composed of sticks, coarse weeds, wool, and bunches of hair of different animals. The eggs are from four to six, of a rather elongated oval shape, fully two inches in length, having a ground colour of light greenish-blue, sprinkled all over with small irregular blotches of light purple and yellowish-brown, so numerous on the larger end, as almost entirely to cover it. The period of incubation extends to nineteen or twenty days. Only one brood is raised in a year, unless the eggs or young be removed or destroyed. The young remain in the nest many weeks before they are able to fly. The old birds return to the same nest for years in succession; and should one of them be destroyed, the other will lead a new partner to the same abode. Even after the young have made their appearance, should one of the parents be killed, the survivor usually manages to find a mate, who undertakes the task of assisting in feeding them.

The Raven may be said to be of a social disposition, for, after the breeding season, flocks of forty, fifty, or more, may sometimes be seen, as I observed on the coast of Labrador, and on the Missouri. When domesticated, and treated with kindness, it becomes attached to its owner, and will follow him about with all the familiarity of a confiding friend. It is capable of imitating the human voice, so that individuals have sometimes been taught to enunciate a few words with great distinctness.

On the ground the Raven walks in a stately manner, its motions exhibiting a kind of thoughtful consideration, almost amounting to gravity. While walking it frequently moves up its wings as if to keep their muscles in action. I never knew an instance of their roosting in the woods, although they frequently alight on trees, to which they sometimes resort for the purpose of procuring nuts and other fruits. They usually betake themselves at night to high rocks, in situations protected from the northerly winds. Possessing to all appearance the faculty of judging of the coming weather, they remove from the higher, wild and dreary districts where they breed, into the low lands, at the approach of winter, when they are frequently seen along the shores of the sea, collecting the garbage that has been cast to land, or picking up the shell-fish as the tide retires. They are vigilant, industrious, and, when the safety of their young or nest is at stake, courageous, driving away hawks and eagles whenever they happen to come near, although in no case do they venture to attack man. Indeed, it is extremely difficult to get within shot of an old Raven. I have more than once been only a few yards from one while it was sitting on its eggs, having attained this proximity by creeping cautiously to the overhanging edge of a precipice; but the moment the bird perceived me, it would fly off apparently in much confusion. They are so cunning and wary, that they can seldom be caught in a trap; and they will watch one intended for a fox, a wolf, or a bear, until one of these animals comes up, and is taken, when they will go to it and eat the alluring bait.

While at Little Macatina Harbour, on the coast of Labrador, in July 1833, I saw a Raven's nest placed under the shelvings of the rugged and fearful rocks that form one side of that singular place. The young were nearly fledged, and now and then called loudly to their parents, as if to inquire why our vessel had come there. One of them in attempting to fly away fell into the water. It was secured, when I trimmed one of its wings, and turned it loose on the deck along with some other birds. The mother, however, kept sailing high over the schooner, repeating some notes, which it seems the young one understood, for it walked carefully to the end of the bowsprit, opened its wings, and tried to fly, but being unable, fell into the water and was drowned. In a few days the rest of the family left the place, and we saw no more of them. Some of the sailors who had come to the harbour eight years in succession, assured me that they had always observed the Ravens breeding there. My whole party found it impossible to shoot one of the old ones, who went to the nest and left it with so much caution, that the task of watching them became irksome. One afternoon I concealed myself under a pile of detached rocks for more than two hours. The young frequently croaked as I was waiting there, but no parent came; so I left the place, but the next moment the female was seen from the deck of the Ripley. She alighted in the nest, fed her young, and was off again before I could reach within shooting distance. It was at this place that I observed how singularly well those birds could travel to and from their nest, at a time when I could not, on account of the fog, see them on wing at a greater distance than twenty or thirty yards. On the 29th of the same month, young Ravens were seen in flocks with their parents; but they were already very shy.

I found a nest of this bird at a narrow part of the Lehigh in Pennsylvania, in a deep fissure of the rocks, not more than twenty feet above the water, the security afforded by which had probably been considered as equivalent to that which might have been gained by a greater height of rock. The nest, in fact, hung over the stream, so that it was impossible to reach it either from above or from below. Many years ago, I saw another placed immediately beneath the arch of the Rock Bridge in Virginia. It was situated on a small projecting stone scarcely a foot square; yet the Raven appeared quite satisfied as to the security of her brood on that narrow bed. This extraordinary production of Nature is placed on the ascent of a hill, which appears to have been rent asunder by some convulsion of the earth. The fissure is about 200 feet deep, and above 80 in width under the arch, narrowing to 40 or so at the bottom. The thickness of the arch probably exceeds 30 feet, and increases at either end. At the bottom is seen the water of what is called Cedar Creek, gently meandering in its rocky channel. The place, when I saw it, was graced by handsome trees, and in some positions there was a pleasing view of the "Blue Ridge" and the "North Mountain." Tradition reports that General Washington threw a dollar over the bridge from the creek below. I may mention, that I passed it under peculiar circumstances connected with my ornithological pursuits, as you will find detailed in another page of this volume.

I have already stated that some Ravens breed as far south as the Carolinas. The place to which they resort for this purpose is called the Table Mountain, which is situated in the district of Pendleton, and of which I extract an account from Drayton's Views of South Carolina. "The Table Mountain is the most distinguished of all the eminences of the State. Its height exceeds 3000 feet, and thirty farms may be discerned at any one view from its top by the unaided eye. Its side is an abrupt precipice of solid rock, 300 feet deep, and nearly perpendicular. The valley underneath appears to be as much below the level as the top of the mountain towers above it. This precipice is called the Lover's Leap. To those who are in the valley, it looks like an immense wall stretching up to heaven, and the awe which it inspires is considerably increased by the quantities of bones which lie whitening at its base,—the remains of various animals which had incautiously approached too near its edge. Its summit is often enveloped in clouds. The gradual ascent of the country from the sea-coast to this western extremity of the State, added to the height of this mountain, must place its top more than 4000 feet above the level of the Atlantic Ocean; an eminence from which vessels crossing the bar of Charleston might be seen with the aid of such improved glasses as are now in use. Large masses of snow tumble from the side of this mountain in the winter season, the fall of which has been heard seven miles. Its summit is the resort of deer and bears. The woods produce mast in abundance; wild pigeons resort to it in such numbers as sometimes to break the limbs of trees on which they alight."

A friend of mine, who is an excellent observer of the habits of birds, has told me that he saw a Raven's nest in the high lands of New York placed in a deep fissure of a rock, in the immediate vicinity of that of a Golden Eagle. I chanced one day, while in the Great Pine Forest of Pennsylvania, to stop, for the purpose of resting and refreshing myself, at a camp of the good Jediah Irish, with whom I have already made you acquainted during my former rambles in that remarkable district. We had seen some Ravens that day, and our conversation returning to them, the person employed in preparing the food of the woodcutters told us, that whenever she chanced to place a salt mackerel or other fish in the brook running from the spring near the camp, "the Raven was sure to carry it away in less than an hour." She firmly believed that it had the power of smelling the fish as she carried it from the hut to the water. We went to the spot with her, and, leaving a fish there, returned to our homely meal, but on visiting the place several hours after, we found it untouched. "The Raven perhaps smelt the powder in our guns!" At all events, it did not choose to come that day.

The flesh of this bird is tough and unfit for food, but this indicates its great strength. When wounded, it bites severely, and scratches with its claws as fiercely as a Hawk. Like the latter also, it disgorges indigestible substances, as bones, hair, and feathers.

I have represented a very old male Raven on a branch of the Shell-bark Hickory; not because the bird alights on any particular kind of tree by preference, but because I thought you might be interested in seeing so fruitful a branch of that valuable ornament of our forests.

Corvus Corax, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 155.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 150.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 56.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Boreali-Americ. part ii. p. 290.—Lath. Gen. Synops. vol. i. p. 367.

Raven, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ix. p. 113. pl. 75. fig. 3.—Nuttall, Manual, part i. p. 202.

Old Male. Plate CI.

Bill longish, thick, robust, somewhat compressed; upper mandible with the dorsal line arched and declinate, the sides convex; lower mandible straight, the sides inclined obliquely outwards; the edges of both sharp, the tip slightly deflected. Nostrils basal, lateral, round, covered by bristly feathers, which are directed forwards. Head large, neck short, body robust. Legs of moderate length, strong; tarsus covered anteriorly with scutella, shorter than the middle toe; toes scutellate above, separated almost to the base; first, second, and fourth nearly equal in length, third longest; claws moderate, arched, acute, compressed, channelled beneath.

Plumage compact, highly glossed. Stiff, bristly feathers, with disunited barbs over the nostrils, directed forwards and adpressed. Feathers of the hind neck with disunited barbs, of the fore part of the neck elongated, lanceolated, and pointed. Wings long, first primary short, fourth longest; primaries tapering, the third, fourth, and fifth, cut out towards the end externally; secondaries very broad, the outer abrupt with a minute acumen, the inner rounded. Tail rather long, rounded, of twelve slightly recurved feathers.

Beak, tarsi, toes and claws, deep black and shining. Iris brown. The general colour of the plumage is deep black, with purple reflections above, greenish below. Tints of green on the back, quills, and tail. Breast and belly browned, with green reflections, and a slight mixture of purple tints.

Length 26 inches, extent of wings 50; beak along the ridge 3, along the gap 3¼; tarsus 2¼, middle toe 2¾.

The Female is usually somewhat smaller, but in all respects resembles the male.

The Young Males are three years in acquiring the full development of the long-pointed feathers, which hang, as it were, from the throat and fore-part of the neck.

The Thick Shell-Bark Hickory.

Juglans Sulcata, Pursh, Flor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 637.—J. laciniosa, Mich. Arbr. Forest. de l'Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 199. pl. 8.—Monœcia Polyandria, Linn. Terebinthaceæ, Juss.

Leaves pinnate, with about nine obovato-lanceolate, acuminate, serrate leaflets, which are downy beneath, the terminal one nearly sessile and attenuated at the base; fruit roundish, with four longitudinal prominences; nut nearly globular, slightly compressed, smooth, with an elongated tip. It occurs from Louisiana to Massachusetts, although not, I believe, farther eastward, and also exists in the whole of the western country, as far as I have travelled. It grows in almost every kind of soil, and in some parts acquires a great size. When detached, it forms a fine ornament to the meadows and fields. The wood, which is hard and extremely pliant, is greatly esteemed for various purposes, and when kept dry is lasting. Excepting the Pacan nuts, none in America are considered equal to those of the present species. They are generally collected after falling, late in autumn, and are abundant in most of our markets, large quantities being shipped to Europe.

THE BLUE JAY.

Corvus cristatus, Linn.
PLATE CII. Male and Female.

Reader, look at the plate in which are represented three individuals of this beautiful species,—rogues though they be, and thieves, as I would call them, were it fit for me to pass judgment on their actions. See how each is enjoying the fruits of his knavery, sucking the egg which he has pilfered from the nest of some innocent dove or harmless partridge! Who could imagine that a form so graceful, arrayed by nature in a garb so resplendent, should harbour so much mischief;—that selfishness, duplicity, and malice should form the moral accompaniments of so much physical perfection! Yet so it is, and how like beings of a much higher order, are these gay deceivers! Aye, I could write you a whole chapter on this subject, were not my task of a different nature.

The Blue Jay is one of those birds that are found capable of subsisting in cold as well as in warm climates. It occurs as far north as the Canadas, where it makes occasional attacks upon the corn cribs of the farmers, and it is found in the most southern portions of the United States, where it abounds during the winter. Every where it manifests the same mischievous disposition. It imitates the cry of the Sparrow Hawk so perfectly, that the little birds in the neighbourhood hurry into the thick coverts, to avoid what they believe to be the attack of that marauder. It robs every nest it can find, sucks the eggs like the crow, or tears to pieces and devours the young birds. A friend once wounded a Grous (Tetrao umbellus), and marked the direction which it followed, but had not proceeded two hundred yards in pursuit, when he heard something fluttering in the bushes, and found his bird belaboured by two Blue Jays, who were picking out its eyes. The same person once put a Flying Squirrel into the cage of one of these birds, merely to preserve it for one night; but on looking into the cage about eleven o'clock next day, he found the animal partly eaten. A Blue Jay at Charleston destroyed all the birds of an aviary. One after another had been killed, and the rats were supposed to have been the culprits, but no crevice could be seen large enough to admit one. Then the mice were accused, and war was waged against them, but still the birds continued to be killed; first the smaller, then the larger, until at length the Keywest Pigeons; when it was discovered that a Jay which had been raised in the aviary was the depredator. He was taken out, and placed in a cage, with a quantity of corn, flour and several small birds which he had just killed. The birds he soon devoured, but the flour he would not condescend to eat, and refusing every other kind of food soon died. In the north, it is particularly fond of ripe chestnuts, and in visiting the trees is sure to select the choicest. When these fail, it attacks the beech nuts, acorns, pears, apples, and green corn.

While at Louisville, in Kentucky, in the winter of 1830, I purchased twenty-five of these birds, at the rate of 6¼ cents each, which I shipped to New Orleans, and afterwards to Liverpool, with the view of turning them out in the English woods. They were caught in common traps, baited with maize, and were brought to me one after another as soon as secured. In placing them in the large cage which I had ordered for the purpose of sending them abroad, I was surprised to see how cowardly each newly caught bird was when introduced to his brethren, who, on being in the cage a day or two, were as gay and frolicksome as if at liberty in the woods. The new comer, on the contrary, would run into a corner, place his head almost in a perpendicular position, and remain silent and sulky, with an appearance of stupidity quite foreign to his nature. He would suffer all the rest to walk over him and trample him down, without ever changing his position. If corn or fruit was presented to him, or even placed close to his bill, he would not so much as look at it. If touched with the hand, he would cower, lie down on his side, and remain motionless. The next day, however, things were altered: he was again a Jay, taking up corn, placing it between his feet, hammering it with his bill, splitting the grain, picking out the kernel, and dropping the divided husks. When the cage was filled, it was amusing to listen to their hammering; all mounted on their perch side by side, each pecking at a grain of maize, like so many blacksmiths paid by the piece. They drank a great deal, eat broken pacan nuts, grapes, dried fruits of all sorts, and especially fresh beef, of which they were extremely fond, roosted very peaceably close together, and were very pleasing pets. Now and then one would utter a cry of alarm, when instantly all would leap and fly about as if greatly concerned, making as much ado as if their most inveterate enemy had been in the midst of them. They bore the passage to Europe pretty well, and most of them reached Liverpool in good health; but a few days after their arrival, a disease occasioned by insects adhering to every part of their body, made such progress that some died every day. Many remedies were tried in vain, and only one individual reached London. The insects had so multiplied on it, that I immersed it in an infusion of tobacco, which, however, killed it in a few hours.

On advancing north, I observed that as soon as the Canada Jay made its appearance, the Blue Jay became more and more rare; not an individual did any of our party observe in Newfoundland or Labrador, during our stay there. On landing a few miles from Pictou, on the 22d of August 1833, after an absence of several months from the United States, the voice of a Blue Jay sounded melodious to me, and the sight of a Humming Bird quite filled my heart with delight.

These Jays are plentiful in all parts of the United States. In Louisiana, they are so abundant as to prove a nuisance to the farmers, picking the newly planted corn, the pease, and the sweet potatoes, attacking every fruit tree, and even destroying the eggs of pigeons and domestic fowls. The planters are in the habit of occasionally soaking some corn in a solution of arsenic, and scattering the seeds over the ground, in consequence of which many Jays are found dead about the fields and gardens.

The Blue Jay is extremely expert in discovering a fox, a racoon, or any other quadruped hostile to birds, and will follow it, emitting a loud noise, as if desirous of bringing every Jay or Crow to its assistance. It acts in the same manner towards owls, and even on some occasions towards hawks.

This species breeds in all parts of the United States, from Louisiana to Maine, and from the Upper Missouri to the coast of the Atlantic. In South Carolina it seems to prefer for this purpose the live oak trees. In the lower parts of the Floridas it gives place in a great measure to the Florida Jay; nor did I meet with a single individual in the Keys of that peninsula. In Louisiana, it breeds near the planter's house, in the upper parts of the trees growing in the avenues, or even in the yards, and generally at a greater height than in the Middle States, where it is comparatively shy. It sometimes takes possession of the old or abandoned nest of a Crow or Cuckoo. In the Southern States, from Louisiana to Maryland, it breeds twice every year; but to the eastward of the latter State seldom more than once. Although it occurs in all places from the sea shore to the mountainous districts, it seems more abundant in the latter. The nest is composed of twigs and other coarse materials, lined with fibrous roots. The eggs are four or five, of a dull olive colour, spotted with brown.

The Blue Jay is truly omnivorous, feeding indiscriminately on all sorts of flesh, seeds, and insects. He is more tyrannical than brave, and, like most boasters, domineers over the feeble, dreads the strong, and flies even from his equals. In many cases in fact, he is a downright coward. The Cardinal Grosbeak will challenge him, and beat him off the ground. The Red Thrush, the Mocking Bird, and many others, although inferior in strength, never allow him to approach their nest with impunity; and the Jay, to be even with them, creeps silently to it in their absence, and devours their eggs and young whenever he finds an opportunity. I have seen one go its round from one nest to another every day, and suck the newly laid eggs of the different birds in the neighbourhood, with as much regularity and composure as a physician would call on his patients. I have also witnessed the sad disappointment it experienced, when, on returning to its own home, it found its mate in the jaws of a snake, the nest upset, and the eggs all gone. I have thought more than once on such occasions that, like all great culprits, when brought to a sense of their enormities, it evinced a strong feeling of remorse. While at Charleston, in November 1833, Dr Wilson of that city told me that on opening a division of his aviary, a Mocking Bird that he had kept for three years, flew at another and killed it, after which it destroyed several Blue Jays, which he had been keeping for me some months in an adjoining compartment.

The Blue Jay seeks for its food with great diligence at all times, but more especially during the period of its migration. At such a time, wherever there are chinquapins, wild chestnuts, acorns, or grapes, flocks will be seen to alight on the topmost branches of these trees, disperse, and engage with great vigour in detaching the fruit. Those that fall are picked up from the ground, and carried into a chink in the bark, the splinters of a fence rail, or firmly held under foot on a branch, and hammered with the bill until the kernel be procured.

As if for the purpose of gleaning the country in this manner, the Blue Jay migrates from one part to another during the day only. A person travelling or hunting by night, may now and then disturb the repose of a Jay, which in its terror sounds an alarm that is instantly responded to by all its surrounding travelling companions, and their multiplied cries make the woods resound far and near. While migrating, they seldom fly to any great distance at a time without alighting, for like true rangers they ransack and minutely inspect every portion of the woods, the fields, the orchards, and even the gardens of the farmers and planters. Always exceedingly garrulous, they may easily be followed to any distance, and the more they are chased the more noisy do they become, unless a hawk happen to pass suddenly near them, when they are instantly struck dumb, and, as if ever conscious of deserving punishment, either remain motionless for a while, or sneak off silently into the closest thickets, where they remain concealed as long as their dangerous enemy is near.

During the winter months they collect in large numbers about the plantations of the Southern States, approach the houses and barns, attend the feeding of the poultry, as well as of the cattle and horses in their separate pens, in company with the Cardinal Grosbeak, the Towhe Bunting, the Cow Bunting, the Starlings and Grakles, pick up every grain of loose corn they can find, search amid the droppings of horses along the roads, and enter the corn cribs, where many are caught by the cat and the sons of the farmer. Their movements on the wing are exceedingly graceful, and as they pass from one tree to another, their expanded wings and tail, exhibiting all the beauty of their graceful form and lovely tints, never fail to delight the observer.

Corvus cristatus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 157.—Lath. Synops. vol. i. p. 386.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 58.

Garrulus cristatus, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Boreali-Americ. part ii. p. 293.

Blue Jay, Corvus cristatus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. i. p. 2. pl. i. fig. 1.—Nuttall, Manual, part i. p. 224.

Adult Male. Plate CII. Fig. 1.

Bill short, strong, straight, compressed, acute; upper mandible with the dorsal outline slightly arched, the sides sloping, the edges sharp and overlapping, the tip slightly declinate; lower mandible with the back narrow, the sides sloping. Nostrils basal, open, covered by the reversed bristly feathers. Head rather large, neck short, body robust. Feet of ordinary length; tarsus about the same length as the middle toe, anteriorly scutellate, compressed, acute behind; toes free, scutellate, the inner shorter than the outer; claws arched, compressed, acute.

Plumage soft, blended, glossy. A tuft of reflected, adpressed, bristly feathers over the nostril on each side. Feathers of the head elongated, and erectile into a tuft. Wings short, first quill very short, fourth and fifth longest. Tail much rounded or wedge-shaped at the extremity, rather long, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill and feet brownish-black. Iris brown. The general colour of the upper parts is a beautiful bright purplish-blue; the ends of the secondary coverts, secondary quills and tail feathers white; the larger wing-coverts, secondary quills, and tail transversely barred with black. Feathers along the base of upper mandible black, and a broad band of the same colour from the occiput, passing behind the eye, down to the lower part of the neck, forming a kind of curved collar. Sides of the head pale blue, throat white. The lower parts are whitish, tinged on the breast and under the wings with reddish-brown.

Length 12 inches, extent of wings 14; bill ⅞; tarsus 1 2⁄12, middle toe nearly the same.

Adult Female. Plate CII. Fig. 2, 3.

The female scarcely differs in appearance from the male, being merely somewhat smaller, with the blue of the upper parts less rich, and the breast more tinged with brown.

The Trumpet-flower.

Bignonia radicans, Pursh, Flor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 420.

The plant on which this Jay is represented, has been already noticed at [p. 254 of vol. i].

THE CANADA FLYCATCHER.

Muscicapa canadensis, Linn.
PLATE CIII. Male and Female.

What a beautiful object, in the delightful season of spring, is our Great Laurel, covered with its tufts of richly, yet delicately, coloured flowers! In imagination I am at this moment rambling along the banks of some murmuring streamlet, overshadowed by the thick foliage of this gorgeous ornament of our mountainous districts. Methinks I see the timid trout eyeing my movements from beneath his rocky covert, while the warblers and other sylvan choristers, equally fond of their wild retreats, are skipping in all the freedom of nature around me. Delightful moments have been to me those when, seated in such a place, with senses all intent, I gazed on the rosy tints of the flowers that seemed to acquire additional colouring from the golden rays of the sun, as he rode proudly over the towering mountains, drawing aside as it were the sable curtain that till now hung over the landscape, and drying up, with the gentleness of a parent towards his cherished offspring, the dewy tears that glittered on each drooping plant. Would that I could describe to you the thoughts that on such a morning have filled my whole soul; but alas, I have not words wherewith to express the feelings of gratitude, love, and wonder that thrilled and glowed in my bosom! I must therefore content myself with requesting you to look at the blossoms of the laurel as depicted in the plate, together with two of the birds, which, in pairs, side by side, are fond of residing among its glossy and verdant foliage.

A comparison of the plate in which I have represented this interesting species, with that exhibiting the bird named by me the Bonaparte Flycatcher,[1] will suffice to convince you, good reader, that these birds are truly distinct. My excellent friend Mr William Swainson, is quite correct, when, after describing the present species, he says, "we can perceive no character, either in the figure or the description of Wilson, which does not accord with our bird," but is certainly mistaken in supposing me to have informed him that the Canada Flycatcher and that named after the Prince of Musignano, are one and the same[2].

The Muscicapa Bonapartii was met with in Louisiana, where, during a residence of many years, I never saw the present species. Nay, the Canada Flycatcher, although a migratory, may be said to be truly a northern bird, never having been observed south of Pennsylvania, east of the range of the Alleghany mountains, or below Pittsburg, on their broad western slope.

I first became acquainted with the habits of the Canada Flycatcher in the Great Pine Forest, while in company with that excellent woodsman Jediah Irish, of whom I have previously spoken; and I have since ascertained that it gives a decided preference to mountainous places, thickly covered with almost impenetrable undergrowths of tangled shrubbery. I found it breeding in the Pine Forest, and have followed it through Maine, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, and the country of Labrador, in every portion of which, suited to its retired habits, it brings forth its broods in peaceful security.

It no doubt comes from the southern parts of America, or from the West Indies, but the mode of its migration is still unknown to me. In Pennsylvania, about the middle of May, a few are seen in the maritime districts, where they seem merely to be resting after the fatigues of a long and tedious journey, before they retreat to their favourite haunts in the mountainous tracts. There they are heard while concealed among the opening blossoms, giving vent to their mirth in song, perhaps thanking the Author of their being for their safe return to their cherished abode. Their notes are not unmusical, although simple and not attractive. Wherever a streamlet of rushing water, deeply shaded by the great mountain laurel (Rhododendron maximum) was met with, there was the Canada Flycatcher to be found. You might see it skipping among the branches, peeping beneath each leaf, examining every chink of the bark, moving along with rapidity and elegance, singing, making love to its mate, and caressing her with all the fervour of a true sylvan lover.

The nest of this bird which I found, was filled to the brim with four young ones ready to take wing; and as it was on the 11th of August, I concluded that the parents had reared another brood that season. When I put my hand on them, they all left the nest and scrambled off, emitting a plaintive tsche, which immediately brought the old ones. Notwithstanding all the anxious cares of the latter in assisting them to hide, I procured all of them; but after examining each minutely I set them at liberty. They were of a dull greyish tint above, of a delicate citron colour beneath, and without any spots on the breast or sides. The nest was placed in the fork of a small branch of laurel, not above four feet from the ground, and resembled that of the Black-capped Warbler. The outer parts were formed of several sorts of mosses, supporting a delicate bed of slender grasses, carefully disposed in a circular form, and lined with hair. In another nest found near Eastport, in the State of Maine, on the 22d of May, five eggs had been laid, and the female was sitting on them. They were of a transparent whiteness, with a few dots of a bright red colour towards the large end. This nest also was placed in the fork of a small bush, and immediately over a rivulet.

The flight of the Canada Flycatcher is rather swifter than that of sylviæ generally is; and as it passes low amid bushes, the bird cannot be followed by the eye to any considerable distance. Now and then it gives chase on the wing, when the clicking of its bill is distinctly heard. By the 1st of October not one remained in the Great Pine Forest, nor did I see any in Labrador after the 1st of August. A few were seen in Newfoundland in the course of that month, and as I returned through Nova Scotia, these birds, like my own party, were all moving southward.

Muscicapa canadensis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 327.

Sylvia pardalina, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 79.

Setophaga Bonapartii, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Boreali-Americana, part ii. p. 225.

Canada Flycatcher, Muscicapa canadensis, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. iii. p. 100. Pl. 26. fig. 2. Male.

Adult Male. Plate CIII. Fig. 1.

Bill of moderate length, straight, broad and depressed at the base, acute; upper mandible slightly notched, and a little inflected at the tip, lower mandible straight. Nostrils basal, lateral, roundish, partly covered by the frontal feathers. Head and neck moderate. Eyes moderate. Body slender. Legs of ordinary size; tarsus a little longer than the middle toe; inner toe a little united at the base; claws compressed, acute, arched.

Plumage ordinary, blended. Wings of ordinary length, the second primary longest. Tail rather long, slightly emarginate, straight. Basirostral feathers bristly, and directed outwards.

Bill pale brown above, flesh-coloured below. Iris deep brown. Feet and claws flesh-coloured and semitransparent. The upper parts are of a light brownish-grey, the quills brown edged externally with paler, as are the tail-feathers, except the two middle, which are grey like the back. The head mottled with brownish-black; spots of the same colour, descending in a line from the lower mandible to the upper part of the breast, forming an interrupted gorgelet. A bright yellow line from the base of the mandible over the eye. The lower parts of a fine bright yellow, excepting under the tail, where they are white.

Length 5¼ inches, extent of wings 9; bill ⅜; tarsus ⅞, toe about the same length.

Adult Female. Pl. CIII. Fig. 2.

The female has the grey of the upper parts more tinged with brown, and the yellow of the lower parts less brilliant; but in other respects so resembles the male as not to require any particular description.

The Great Laurel.

Rhododendron maximum, Willd. Sp. Pl. vol. ii. p. 600.—Pursh, Flor. Amer. vol. i. p. 297.—Decandria monogynia, Linn.—Rhododendra, Juss.

This beautiful species frequently attains a height of 15 or even 20 feet. It is characterised by its oblong, acute leaves, its terminal umbels or clusters of pink campanulate flowers, the divisions of the calyces of which are oval and obtuse. It exhibits several varieties depending on the shape of the leaves, the colour of the flowers, and the comparative length of the stamens and style. The wood, which is tough and stubborn, is well adapted for turner's work. The species is found on all the moist declivities of our mountainous districts, from Carolina to Massachusetts.

THE CHIPPING SPARROW.

Fringilla socialis, Wils.
PLATE CIV. Male.

Few birds are more common throughout the United States than this gentle and harmless little finch. It inhabits the towns, villages, orchards, gardens, borders of fields, and prairie grounds. Abundant in the whole of the Middle States during spring, summer, and autumn; it removes to the southern parts to spend the winter, and there you may meet with it in flocks almost anywhere, even in the open woods. So social is it in its character that you see it at that season in company with the Song Sparrow, the White-throated, the Savannah, the Field, and almost every other species of the genus. The sandy roads exposed to the sun's rays are daily visited by it, where, among the excrement of horses and cattle, it searches for food, or among the tall grasses of our old fields it seeks for seeds, small berries, and insects of various kinds. Should the weather be cold it enters the barn-yard, and even presents itself in the piazza. It reaches Louisiana, the Carolinas, and other southern districts in November, and returns about the middle of March to the Middle and Eastern States, where it breeds.

Early in May the Chipping Sparrow has already formed its nest, which it has placed indifferently in the apple or peach tree of the orchard or garden, in any evergreen bush or cedar, high or low, as it may best suit, but never on the ground. It is small and comparatively slender, being formed of a scanty collection of fine dried grass, and lined with horse or cow hair. The eggs are four or five, of a bright greenish-blue colour, slightly marked with dark and light-brown spots, chiefly distributed towards the larger end. They are more pointed at the small end than is common in this genus. Although timorous, these birds express great anxiety when their nest is disturbed, especially the female. They generally raise two broods in the season, south of Pennsylvania, and not unfrequently in Virginia and Maryland.

The song of this species, if song it can with propriety be called, is heard at all hours of the day, the bird seeming determined to make up by quantity for defect in the quality of its notes. Mounted on the topmost branch of any low tree or bush, or on the end of a fence stake, it emits with rapidity six or seven notes resembling the sounds produced by smartly striking two pebbles together, each succeeding note rising in strength, although the song altogether is scarcely louder than the chirping of a cricket. It is often heard during the calm of a fine night, or in the warmer days of winter.

These gentle birds migrate by day; and no sooner has October returned and mellowed the tints of the sylvan foliage, than flitting before you on the road, you see family after family moving southward, chasing each other as if in play, sweeping across the path, or flocking suddenly to a tree if surprised, but almost instantly returning to the ground and resuming their line of march. At the approach of night they throw themselves into thickets of brambles, where, in company with several other species, they keep up a murmuring conversation until long after dark. Their flight is short, rather irregular, and seldom more elevated than the height of moderate-sized trees.

With the exception of the Sharp-shinned Hawk, the Marsh Hawk, and the Black Snake, these birds have few enemies, children being generally fond of protecting them. Little or no difference is perceptible between the sexes, and the young acquire the full plumage of their parents at the earliest approach of spring.

I did not find one individual of the species in Newfoundland, Labrador, or Nova Scotia.

Fringilla socialis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. p. 109.

Chipping Sparrow, Fringilla socialis, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 127. Pl. 16. Fig. 5.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. i. p. 497.

Adult male. Plate CIV.

Bill short, rather small, conical, acute; upper mandible rather narrower than the lower, very slightly declinate at the tip, rounded on the sides, as is the lower, which has the edges inflected and acute; the gap line straight, slightly deflected at the base. Nostrils basal, roundish, concealed by the feathers. Head rather large, neck short, body robust. Legs of moderate length, slender; tarsus longer than the middle toe, covered anteriorly with a few longish scutella; toes scutellate above, free, the lateral ones nearly equal; claws slender, greatly compressed, acute, slightly arched, that of the hind toe little larger.

Plumage soft, rather compact. Wings shortish, curved, rounded, the third and fourth quills longest, the second nearly as long, the first little shorter. Tail rather long, emarginate.

Bill dusky. Iris brown. Feet flesh-colour. Upper part of the head, anterior portion of the back, and scapulars, bright chestnut, with blackish-brown spots, the middle of each feather being of the latter colour. Sides of the neck and rump light greyish-blue, as are the smaller wing-coverts. Quills, larger coverts and first row of smaller, dusky, the two latter tipped with white, the former more or less margined with chestnut. Tail dusky, the feathers edged with pale ochre. A white line over the eye, and the lower parts generally of a greyish-white.

Length 5¼ inches, extent of wings 8; bill little more than ¼.

The Female differs only in having the tints generally less intense. In winter, both have a blackish frontlet.

The Black Locust or False Acacia.

Robinia pseudacacia, Willd. Sp. Pl. vol. iii. p. 1131. Pursh, Flor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 487.—Diadelphia Decandria, Linn. Leguminosæ, Juss.

This beautiful tree grows in the mountainous parts of the United States, from Canada to Carolina. Its wood, which is of great durability, is employed for various purposes, and particularly for gates and fence-stakes. The species is characterised by its spinescent stipules, pendulous racemes of white, sweet-scented flowers, and large smooth legumes. Although abundant in the natural state, it is now planted around farms and plantations, on account of the great value of its timber. It is besides a charming ornament of our avenues, either in the country, or in the streets of villages and cities.

THE RED-BELLIED NUTHATCH.

Sitta canadensis, Linn.
PLATE CV. Male and Female.

While the Brown-headed Nuthatch perambulates the southern districts, the Red-bellied species spends its time in the eastern and northern States, the two dividing the country, as it were, nearly equally between them. The southern limits of this little bird seldom extend farther than Maryland. It is more plentiful in Pennsylvania, particularly in the mountainous parts of that State, and becomes still more abundant as you proceed towards Maine and Nova Scotia, where the greater number spend even the coldest winters. Yet I saw none in Newfoundland, and only one in Labrador, which had probably been blown thither by a gale.

I found it building its nest near Eastport in Maine, on the 19th of May, before the Blue Bird had made its appearance there, and while much ice still remained on the northern exposures. The nest is dug in a low dead stump, seldom more than four feet from the ground, both the male and the female working by turns, until they have got to the depth of about fourteen inches. The eggs, four in number, are small, and of a white colour, tinged with a deep blush, and sprinkled with reddish dots. They raise, I believe, only one brood in the season.

The activity and industry of this little creature are admirable. With the quickness of thought it moves up and down the branches of trees, assuming various positions, examining every hole or cranny in the bark, frequently rapping against it with its bill, and detaching now and then small fragments, in order to get at the insects or larvæ concealed beneath. It searches for its food among the leaves of the tallest pines, along the fences, and on the fallen logs, ever busy, petulant, and noisy, probably never resting except during the night, when, like other species of the tribe, it attaches itself by the feet to the bark, and sleeps head downwards. Like other birds of this genus also, it is careless of man, although it never suffers him to form too close an acquaintance. During the breeding season, they move in pairs, and manifest a strong mutual attachment. Their almost incessant hink, hink, hink-hink, is heard at every hop they take, but less loudly sounded than the notes of the Brown-headed species, the male being more prodigal of noise than the female, which, however, now and then answers to his call.

It is pleasant to see such a pair leading their offspring through the tops of the tall trees of our great pine forests of the north, accompanied by a train of small Woodpeckers and Creepers, all bent on the same object, that of procuring food. Gaily they move from tree to tree, each emitting its peculiar note, and all evincing the greatest sociality. If danger is apparent, dead silence takes place, but as soon as their fear is removed, they become as clamorous and lively as before.

The flight of the Red-bellied Nuthatch is seldom protracted farther than from tree to tree; and in this manner a certain number go south at the approach of winter, some at this season venturing as far as South Carolina, although they are never seen in the maritime districts of that State. They are plentiful during summer in the Pocano mountains of Pennsylvania, and many breed there. Those which remain in our northern States during winter, now and then shew themselves in the orchards and farm-yards, alighting about the eaves of the out-houses, to seek for food.

While at sea, on one of my migrations from Europe to America, and at a distance of 300 miles from land, I saw one of these birds come on board one evening, during a severe gale. It alighted on the rigging, and proceeded at once to search for food in its usual manner. It was caught and brought to me; but although I gave it flies and some bits of cheese, it refused to touch them, generally sitting in the bottom of the cage with its head under its wing, and it died in the course of the night. On opening it, I could not perceive a particle of food in its stomach, so that its sudden death was probably occasioned by inanition and fatigue.

Sitta canadensis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 177.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. p. 262.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 96.

Red-bellied Black-cap Nuthatch, Sitta canadensis, Wilson, Amer. Ornith. vol. i. p. 40. Pl. 2. fig. 4.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. i. p. 583.

Adult Male. Plate CV. Fig. 1.

Bill straight, of moderate length, very hard, conico-subulate, a little compressed, more or less wedge-shaped at the tip; upper mandible with the dorsal outline very slightly arched, the edges sharp towards the point; lower mandible smaller, of equal length, straight. Nostrils basal, round, half-closed by a membrane, partially covered by the frontal feathers. The general form is short and compact. Feet rather strong, the hind toe stout, with a strong hooked claw; the claws arched, compressed, acute.

Plumage soft, blended, with little gloss. Wings rather short, broad, the second and third primaries longest. Tail short, broad, even, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill black. Iris brown. Feet and claws flesh-coloured, tinged with yellowish-green. The general colour of the plumage above is a light leaden-grey, beneath pale brownish-red. The top of the head is bluish-black. A long white line passes over the eye; a broader line of black from the bill to the eye, and beyond it down the neck; the throat white. Primary quills dusky margined with greyish-blue; tail-feathers blackish, the two middle ones of the general colour of the back; the lateral ones white towards the end.

Length 4½ inches; extent of wings 8; bill along the ridge 5⁄12; gap-line 7⁄12.

Adult Female. Plate CV. Fig. 2.

There is scarcely any perceptible external difference between the sexes, the lower parts of the female being merely a little paler, and the black of the head not so deep.

THE RUNAWAY.

Never shall I forget the impression made on my mind by the rencontre which forms the subject of this article, and I even doubt if the relation of it will not excite in that of my reader emotions of varied character.

Late in the afternoon of one of those sultry days which render the atmosphere of the Louisiana swamps pregnant with baneful effluvia, I directed my course towards my distant home, laden with a pack consisting of five or six Wood Ibises, and a heavy gun, the weight of which, even in those days when my natural powers were unimpaired, prevented me from moving with much speed. Reaching the banks of a miry bayou, only a few yards in breadth, but of which I could not ascertain the depth, on account of the muddiness of its waters, I thought it might be dangerous to wade through it with my burden; for which reason, throwing to the opposite side each of my heavy birds in succession, together with my gun, powder-flask, and shot-bag, and drawing my hunting-knife from its scabbard, to defend myself, if need should be, against alligators, I entered the water, followed by my faithful dog. As I advanced carefully and slowly, "Plato" swam around me, enjoying the refreshing influence of the liquid element that cooled his fatigued and heated frame. The water deepened, as did the mire of its bed; but with a stroke or two I gained the shore.

Scarcely had I stood erect on the opposite bank, when my dog ran to me, exhibiting marks of terror, his eyes seeming ready to burst from their sockets, and his mouth grinning with the expression of hatred, while his feelings found vent in a stifled growl. Thinking that all this was produced by the scent of a wolf or bear, I stooped to take up my gun, when a stentorial voice commanded me to "stand still, or die!" Such a "qui vive" in these woods was as unexpected as it was rare. I instantly raised and cocked my gun; and although I did not yet perceive the individual who had thus issued so peremptory a mandate, I felt determined to combat with him for the free passage of the grounds. Presently a tall firmly-built Negro emerged from the bushy underwood, where, until that moment, he must have been crouched, and in a louder voice repeated his injunction. Had I pressed a trigger, his life would have instantly terminated; but observing that the gun, which he aimed at my breast, was a wretched rusty piece, from which fire could not readily be produced, I felt little fear, and therefore did not judge it necessary to proceed at once to extremities. I laid my gun at my side, tapped my dog quietly, and asked the man what he wanted.

My forbearance, and the stranger's long habit of submission, produced the most powerful effect on his mind. "Master," said he, "I am a runaway. I might perhaps shoot you down; but God forbids it, for I feel just now, as if I saw him ready to pass his judgment against me for such a foul deed, and I ask mercy at your hands. For God's sake, do not kill me, master!" And why, answered I, have you left your quarters, where certainly you must have fared better than in these unwholesome swamps? "Master, my story is a short, but a sorrowful one. My camp is close by, and as I know you cannot reach home this night, if you will follow me there, depend upon my honour you shall be safe until the morning, when I will carry your birds, if you choose, to the great road."

The large intelligent eyes of the Negro, the complacency of his manner, and the tones of his voice, I thought, invited me to venture; and as I felt that I was at least his equal, while, moreover, I had my dog to second me, I answered that I would follow him. He observed the emphasis laid on the words, the meaning of which he seemed to understand so thoroughly, that, turning to me, he said, "There, master, take my butcher's knife, while I throw away the flint and priming from my gun!" Reader, I felt confounded: this was too much for me; I refused the knife, and told him to keep his piece ready, in case we might accidentally meet a cougar or a bear.

Generosity exists everywhere. The greatest monarch acknowledges its impulse, and all around him, from his lowliest menial to the proud nobles that encircle his throne, at times experience that overpowering sentiment. I offered to shake hands with the runaway. "Master," said he, "I beg you thanks," and with this he gave me a squeeze, that alike impressed me with the goodness of his heart, and his great physical strength. From that moment we proceeded through the woods together. My dog smelt at him several times, but as he heard me speak in my usual tone of voice, he soon left us, and rambled around as long as my whistle was unused. As we proceeded, I observed that he was guiding me towards the setting of the sun, and quite contrary to my homeward course. I remarked this to him, when he with the greatest simplicity replied, "merely for our security."

After trudging along for some distance, and crossing several bayous, at all of which he threw his gun and knife to the opposite bank, and stood still until I had got over, we came to the borders of an immense cane brake, from which I had, on former occasions, driven and killed several deer. We entered, as I had frequently done before, now erect, then on "all fours." He regularly led the way, divided here and there the tangled stalks, and, whenever we reached a fallen tree, assisted me in getting over it with all possible care. I saw that he was a perfect Indian in the knowledge of the woods, for he kept a direct course as precisely as any "Red-skin" I ever travelled with. All of a sudden he emitted a loud shriek, not unlike that of an owl, which so surprised me, that I once more instantly levelled my gun. "No harm, master, I only give notice to my wife and children that I am coming." A tremulous answer of the same nature gently echoed through the tree-tops. The runaway's lips separated with an expression of gentleness and delight, when his beautiful set of ivory teeth seemed to smile through the dusk of evening that was thickening around us. "Master," said he, "my wife, though black, is as beautiful to me as the President's wife is to him; she is my queen, and I look on our young ones as so many princes:—but you shall see them all, for here they are, thank God!"

There, in the heart of the cane-brake, I found a regular camp. A small fire was lighted, and on its embers lay gridling some large slices of venison. A lad nine or ten years old was blowing the ashes from some fine sweet potatoes. Various articles of household furniture were carefully disposed around, and a large pallet of bear and deer skins seemed to be the resting-place of the whole family. The wife raised not her eyes towards mine, and the little ones, three in number, retired into a corner, like so many discomfited racoons; but the Runaway, bold and apparently happy, spoke to them in such cheering words, that at once one and all seemed to regard me as one sent by Providence to relieve them from all their troubles. My clothes were hung up by them to dry, and the Negro asked if he might clean and grease my gun, which I permitted him to do, while the wife threw a large piece of deer's flesh to my dog, which the children were already caressing.

Only think of my situation, reader! Here I was, ten miles at least from home, and four or five from the nearest plantation, in the camp of runaway slaves, and quite at their mercy. My eyes involuntarily followed their motions, but as I thought I perceived in them a strong desire to make me their confidant and friend, I gradually relinquished all suspicion. The venison and potatoes looked quite tempting, and by this time I was in a condition to relish much less savoury fare; so, on being humbly asked to divide the viands before us, I partook of as hearty a meal as I had ever done in my life.

Supper over, the fire was completely extinguished, and a small lighted pine-knot placed in a hollowed calabash. Seeing that both the husband and wife were desirous of communicating something to me, I at once and fearlessly desired them to unburden their minds; when the Runaway told me a tale of which the following is the substance.

About eighteen months before, a planter residing not very far off, having met with some losses, was obliged to expose his slaves at a public sale. The value of his negroes was well known, and on the appointed day, the auctioneer laid them out in small lots, or offered them singly, in the manner which he judged most advantageous to their owner. The Runaway, who was well known as being the most valuable next to his wife, was put up by himself for sale, and brought an immoderate price. For his wife, who came next, and alone, eight hundred dollars were bidden and paid down. Then the children were exposed, and, on account of their breed, brought high prices. The rest of the slaves went off at rates corresponding to their qualifications.

The Runaway chanced to be purchased by the overseer of the plantation; the wife was bought by an individual residing about a hundred miles off, and the children went to different places along the river. The heart of the husband and father failed him under this dire calamity. For a while he pined in deep sorrow under his new master; but having marked down in his memory the names of the different persons who had purchased each dear portion of his family, he feigned illness, if indeed he whose affections had been so grievously blasted could be said to feign it, refrained from food for several days, and was little regarded by the overseer, who felt himself disappointed in what he had considered a bargain.

On a stormy night, when the elements raged with all the fury of a hurricane, the poor negro made his escape, and, being well acquainted with all the neighbouring swamps, at once made directly for the cane brake, in the centre of which I found his camp. A few nights afterwards he gained the abode of his wife, and the very next after their meeting he led her away. The children one after another he succeeded in stealing, until at last the whole objects of his love were under his care.

To provide for five individuals was no easy task in those wilds, which, after the first notice was given of the wonderful disappearance of this extraordinary family, were daily ransacked by armed planters. Necessity, it is said, will bring the wolf from the forest. The Runaway seems to have well understood the maxim, for under night he approached his first master's plantation, where he had ever been treated with the greatest kindness. The house servants knew him too well not to aid him to the best of their power, and at the approach of each morning he returned to his camp with an ample supply of provisions. One day, while in search of wild fruits, he found a bear dead before the muzzle of a gun that had been set for the purpose. Both articles he carried to his home. His friends at the plantation managed to supply him with some ammunition, and in damp and cloudy days he first ventured to hunt around his camp. Possessed of courage and activity, he gradually became more careless, and rambled farther in search of game. It was on one of his excursions that I met him, and he assured me that the noise which I made in passing the bayou had caused him to lose the chance of killing a fine deer, although, said he, "my old musket misses fire sadly too often."

The runaways, after disclosing their secret to me, both rose from their seat, with eyes full of tears. "Good master, for God's sake, do something for us and our children," they sobbed forth with one accord. Their little ones lay sound asleep in the fearlessness of their innocence. Who could have heard such a tale without emotion? I promised them my most cordial assistance. They both sat up that night to watch my repose, and I slept close to their urchins, as if on a bed of the softest down.

Day broke so fair, so pure, and so gladdening, that I told them such heavenly appearances were ominous of good, and that I scarcely doubted of obtaining their full pardon. I desired them to take their children with them, and promised to accompany them to the plantation of their first master. They gladly obeyed. My Ibises were hung around their camp, and, as a memento of my having been there, I notched several trees, after which I bade adieu, perhaps for the last time, to that cane brake. We soon reached the plantation, the owner of which, with whom I was well acquainted, received me with all the generous kindness of a Louisiana planter. Ere an hour had elapsed, the Runaway and his family were looked upon as his own. He afterwards repurchased them from their owners, and treated them with his former kindness; so that they were rendered as happy as slaves generally are in that country, and continued to cherish that attachment to each other which had led to their adventures. Since this event happened, it has, I have been informed, become illegal to separate slave families without their consent.

THE BLACK VULTURE OR CARRION CROW.

Cathartes Jota, Bonap.
PLATE CVI. Male and Female.

The habits of this species are so intimately connected with those of the Turkey Buzzard (Cathartes Aura), that I cannot do better than devote this article to the description of both. And here, I beg leave to request of you, reader, that you allow me to present you with a copy of a paper which I published several years ago on the subject, and which was read, in my presence, to a numerous assemblage of the members of the Wernerian Natural History Society of Edinburgh, by my friend Mr Neill, the Secretary of that Society. It is scarcely necessary for me to apologise for introducing here the observations which I then narrated, more especially as they referred principally to an interesting subject of discussion, which has been since resumed. They are as follows:—

"As soon as, like me, you shall have seen the Turkey Buzzard follow, with arduous closeness of investigation, the skirts of the forests, the meanders of creeks and rivers, sweeping over the whole of extensive plains, glancing his quick eye in all directions, with as much intentness as ever did the noblest of Falcons, to discover where below him lies the suitable prey; when, like me, you have repeatedly seen that bird pass over objects calculated to glut his voracious appetite, unnoticed, because unseen; and when you have also observed the greedy Vulture, propelled by hunger, if not famine, moving like the wind suddenly round his course, as the carrion attracts his eye; then will you abandon the deeply-rooted notion, that this bird possesses the faculty of discovering, by his sense of smell, his prey at an immense distance.

This power of smelling so acutely I adopted as a fact from my youth. I had read of this when a child; and many of the theorists, to whom I subsequently spoke of it, repeated the same with enthusiasm, the more particularly as they considered it an extraordinary gift of nature. But I had already observed, that nature, although wonderfully bountiful, had not granted more to any one individual than was necessary, and that no one was possessed of any two of the senses in a very high state of perfection; that if it had a good scent, it needed not so much acuteness of sight, and vice versa. When I visited the Southern States, and had lived, as it were, amongst these Vultures for several years, and discovered thousands of times that they did not smell me when I approached them, covered by a tree, until within a few feet; and that when so near, or at a greater distance, I shewed myself to them, they instantly flew away much frightened; the idea evaporated, and I assiduously engaged in a series of experiments, to prove to myself, at least, how far this acuteness of smell existed, or if it existed at all.

I sit down to communicate to you the results of those experiments, and leave for you to conclude how far and how long the world has been imposed on by the mere assertions of men who had never seen more than the skins of our Vultures, or heard the accounts from men caring little about observing nature closely.

My First Experiment was as follows:—I procured a skin of our common deer, entire to the hoofs, and stuffed it carefully with dried grass until filled rather above the natural size,—suffered the whole to become perfectly dry, and as hard as leather,—took it to the middle of a large open field,—laid it down on its back with the legs up and apart, as if the animal was dead and putrid. I then retired about a hundred yards, and in the lapse of some minutes, a Vulture, coursing round the field tolerably high, espied the skin, sailed directly towards it, and alighted within a few yards of it. I ran immediately, covered by a large tree, until within about forty yards, and from that place could spy the bird with ease. He approached the skin, looked at it with apparent suspicion, jumped on it, raised his tail, and voided freely (as you well know all birds of prey in a wild state generally do before feeding),—then approaching the eyes, that were here solid globes of hard, dried, and painted clay, attacked first one and then the other, with, however, no farther advantage than that of disarranging them. This part was abandoned; the bird walked to the other extremity of the pretended animal, and there, with much exertion, tore the stitches apart, until much fodder and hay was pulled out; but no flesh could the bird find or smell; he was intent on discovering some where none existed, and, after reiterated efforts, all useless, he took flight and coursed about the field, when, suddenly wheeling round and alighting, I saw him kill a small garter snake, and swallow it in an instant. The Vulture rose again, sailed about, and passed several times quite low over the stuffed deer-skin, as if loath to abandon so good looking a prey.

Judge of my feelings when I plainly saw that the Vulture, which could not discover, through its extraordinary sense of smell, that no flesh, either fresh or putrid, existed about that skin, could at a glance see a snake, scarcely as thick as a man's finger, alive, and destitute of odour, hundreds of yards distant. I concluded that, at all events, his ocular powers were much better than his sense of smell.

Second Experiment.—I had a large dead hog hauled some distance from the house, and put into a ravine, about twenty feet deeper than the surface of the earth around it, narrow and winding much, filled with briars and high cane. In this I made the negroes conceal the hog, by binding cane over it, until I thought it would puzzle either Buzzards, Carrion Crows, or any other birds to see it, and left it for two days. This was early in the month of July, when, in this latitude, a dead body becomes putrid and extremely fetid in a short time. I saw from time to time many Vultures, in search of food, sail over the field and ravine in all directions, but none discovered the carcass, although during this time several dogs had visited it, and fed plentifully on it. I tried to go near it, but the smell was so insufferable when within thirty yards, that I abandoned it, and the remnants were entirely destroyed at last through natural decay.

I then took a young pig, put a knife through its neck, and made it bleed on the earth and grass about the same place, and having covered it closely with leaves, also watched the result. The Vultures saw the fresh blood, alighted about it, followed it down into the ravine, discovered by the blood the pig, and devoured it, when yet quite fresh, within my sight.

Not contented with these experiments, which I already thought fully conclusive, having found two young Vultures, about the size of pullets, covered yet with down, and looking more like quadrupeds than birds, I had them brought home and put into a large coop in the yard, in the view of every body, and attended to their feeding myself. I gave them a great number of Red-headed Woodpeckers and Parokeets, birds then easy to procure, as they were feeding daily on the mulberry trees in the immediate neighbourhood of my orphans.

These the young Vultures could tear to pieces by putting both feet on the body, and applying the bill with great force. So accustomed to my going towards them were they in a few days, that when I approached the cage with hands filled with game for them, they immediately began hissing and gesticulating very much like young pigeons, and putting their bills to each other, as if expecting to be fed mutually, as their parent had done.

Two weeks elapsed, black feathers made their appearance, and the down diminished. I remarked an extraordinary increase of their legs and bill, and thinking them fit for trial, I closed three sides of the cage with plank, leaving the front only with bars for them to see through,—had the cage cleaned, washed, and sanded, to remove any filth attached to it from the putrid flesh that had been in it, and turned its front immediately from the course I usually took towards it with food for them.

I approached it often barefooted, and soon perceived that if I did not accidentally make a noise, the young birds remained in their silent upright attitudes, until I shewed myself to them by turning to the front of their prison. I frequently fastened a dead squirrel or rabbit, cut open, with all the entrails hanging loosely, to a long pole, and in this situation would put it to the back part of the cage; but no hissing, no movement, was made; when, on the contrary, I presented the end of the pole thus covered over the cage, no sooner would it appear beyond the edge, than my hungry birds would jump against the bars, hiss furiously, and attempt all in their power to reach the food. This was repeatedly done with fresh and putrid substances, all very congenial to their taste.

Satisfied within myself, I dropped these trials, but fed the birds until full grown, and then turned them out into the yard of the kitchen, for the purpose of picking up whatever substances might be thrown to them. Their voracity, however, soon caused their death: young pigs were not safe if within their reach; and young ducks, turkeys, or chickens, were such a constant temptation, that the cook, unable to watch them, killed them both, to put an end to their depredations.

Whilst I had these two young vultures in confinement, an extraordinary occurrence took place respecting an old bird of the same kind, which I cannot help relating to you. This bird, sailing over the yard, whilst I was experimenting with the pole and squirrels, saw the food, and alighted on the roof of one of the outhouses; then alighted on the ground, walked directly to the cage, and attempted to reach the food within. I approached it carefully, and it hopped off a short distance; as I retired, it returned, when always the appearances of the strongest congratulations would take place from the young towards this new comer. I directed several young negroes to drive it gently towards the stable, and to try to make it go in there. This would not do; but, after a short time, I helped to drive it into that part of the gin-house where the cotton seeds are deposited, and there caught it. I easily discovered that the bird was so emaciated, that to this state of poverty only I owed my success. I put it in with the young, who both at once jumped about him, making most extraordinary gestures of welcome, whilst the old bird, quite discomfited at his confinement, lashed both with great violence with his bill. Fearing the death of the young, I took them out, and fed plentifully the old bird; his appetite had become so great through fasting, that he ate too much, and died of suffocation.

I could enumerate many more instances, indicating that the power of smelling in these birds has been grossly exaggerated, and that, if they can smell objects at any distance, they can see the same objects much farther. I would ask any observer of the habits of birds, why if Vultures could smell at a great distance their prey, they should spend the greater portion of their lives hunting for it, when they are naturally so lazy, that, if fed in one place, they never leave it, and merely make such a change as is absolutely necessary to enable them to reach it. But I will now enter on their habits, and you will easily discover how this far famed power has originated.

Vultures are gregarious, and often associate in flocks of twenty, forty, or more;—hunting thus together, they fly in sight of each other, and thus cover an immense extent of country. A flock of twenty may easily survey an area of two miles, as they go turning in large circles, often intersecting each other in their lines, as if forming a vast chain of rounded links;—some are high, whilst others are low;—not a spot is passed unseen, and, consequently, the moment that a prey is discovered, the favoured bird rounds to, and, by the impetuosity of its movements, gives notice to its nearest companion, who immediately follows him, and is successively attended by all the rest. Thus the farthest from the discoverer being at a considerable distance, sails in a direct line towards the spot indicated to him by the flight of the others, who all have gone in a straight course before him, with the appearance of being impelled by this extraordinary power of smelling, so erroneously granted to them. If the object discovered is large, lately dead, and covered with a skin too tough to be eaten and torn asunder, and affords free scope to their appetites, they remain about it, and in the neighbourhood. Perched on high dead limbs, in such conspicuous positions, they are easily seen by other Vultures, who, through habit, know the meaning of such stoppages, and join the first flock, going also directly, and affording further evidence to those persons who are satisfied with appearance only. In this manner I have seen several hundreds of Vultures and Carrion Crows assembled near a dead ox at the dusk of evening, that had only two or three about it in the morning; when some of the later comers had probably travelled hundreds of miles searching diligently themselves for food, and probably would have had to go much farther, had they not espied this association.

Around the spot both species remain; some of them from time to time examining the dead body, giving it a tug in those parts most accessible, until putridity ensues. The accumulated number then fall to work, exhibiting a most disgusting picture of famished cannibals; the strongest driving the weakest, and the latter harassing the former with all the animosity that a disappointed hungry stomach can excite. They are seen jumping off the carcass, reattacking it, entering it, and wrestling for portions partly swallowed by two or more of them, hissing at a furious rate, and clearing every moment their nostrils from the filth that enters there, and stops their breathing. No doubt remains on my mind, that the great outward dimensions of these nostrils were allotted them for that especial and necessary purpose.

The animal is soon reduced to a mere skeleton, no portion of it being now too hard to be torn apart and swallowed, so that nothing is left but the bare bones. Soon all these bloody feeders are seen standing gorged, and scarcely able to take wing. At such times the observer may approach very near the group, whilst engaged in feeding, and see the Vultures in contact with the Dogs, who really by smelling have found the prey;—whenever this happens, it is with the greatest reluctance that the birds suffer themselves to be driven off, although frequently the sudden scowl or growl of the Dogs will cause nearly all the Vultures to rise a few yards in the air. I have several times seen the Buzzards feeding at one extremity of the carcass, whilst the Dogs were tearing the other; but if a single Wolf approached, or a pair of White-headed Eagles, driven by extreme hunger, then the place was abandoned to them until their wants were supplied.

The repast finished, each bird gradually rises to the highest branches of the nearest trees, and remains there until the full digestion of all the food they have swallowed is completed; from time to time opening their wings to the breeze, or to the sun, either to cool or to warm themselves. The traveller may then pass under them unnoticed; or, if regarded, a mere sham of flying off is made. The bird slowly recloses its wings, looks at the person as he passes, and remains there until hunger again urges him onwards. This takes often times more than a day, when gradually, and very often singly, each vulture is seen to depart.

They now rise to an immense height; cutting, with great elegance and ease, many circles through the air; now and then gently closing their wings, they launch themselves obliquely, with great swiftness, for several hundred yards, check and resume their portly movements, ascending until, like specks in the distance, they are seen altogether to leave that neighbourhood, to seek elsewhere the required means of subsistence.

Having heard it said, no doubt with the desire of proving that Buzzards smell their prey, that these birds usually fly against the breeze, I may state that, in my opinion, this action is simply used, because it is easier for birds to sustain themselves on the wing, encountering a moderate portion of wind, than when flying before it; but I have so often witnessed these birds bearing away under the influence of a strong breeze, as if enjoying it, that I consider either case as a mere incident connected with their pleasures or their wants.

Here, my dear Sir, let me relate one of those facts, curious in itself, and attributed to mere instinct, but which I cannot admit under that appellation, and which, in my opinion, so borders on reason, that, were I to call it by that name, I hope you will not look on my judgment as erroneous, without your further investigating the subject in a more general point of view.

During one of those heavy gusts that so often take place in Louisiana, in the early part of summer, I saw a flock of these birds, which had undoubtedly discovered that the current of air that was tearing all over them, was a mere sheet, raise themselves obliquely against it, with great force, slide through its impetuous current, and reassume above it, their elegant movements. The power given to them by nature of discerning the approaching death of a wounded animal, is truly remarkable. They will watch each individual thus assailed by misfortune, and follow it with keen perseverance, until the loss of life has rendered it their prey. A poor old emaciated horse or ox, a deer mired on the margin of the lake, where the timid animal has resorted to escape flies and musquitoes, so fatiguing in summer, is seen in distress with exultation by the Buzzard. He immediately alights; and, if the animal does not extricate itself, waits and gorges in peace on as much of the flesh as the nature of the spot will allow. They do more: they often watch the young kid, the lamb and the pig issuing from the mother's womb, and attack it with direful success; yet, notwithstanding this, they frequently pass over a healthy horse, hog, or other animal, lying as if dead, basking in the sunshine, without even altering their course in the least. Judge then, my dear Sir, how well they must see.

Opportunities of devouring young living animals are so very frequent around large plantations in this country, that to deny them would be ridiculous, although I have heard it attempted by European writers. During the terrifying inundations of the Mississippi, I have very frequently seen many of these birds alight on the dead floating bodies of animals, drowned by the waters in the lowlands, and washed by the current, gorging themselves at the expense of the squatter, who often loses the greater portion of his wandering flocks on such occasions. Dastardly withal, and such cowards are they, that our smaller hawks can drive them off any place: the little king-bird proves indeed a tyrant, whenever he espies the large marauder sailing about the spot where his dearest mate is all intent on incubation; and the eagle, if hungry, will chase him, force him to disgorge his food in a moment, and leave it at his disposal.

Many of those birds accustomed, by the privileges granted them by law, of remaining about cities and villages in our southern states, seldom leave them, and might almost be called a second set, differing widely in habits from those that reside constantly at a distance from these places. Accustomed to be fed, they are still more lazy; their appearance exhibits all the nonchalance belonging to the garrisoned half-paid soldier. To move is for them a hardship, and nothing but extreme hunger will make them fly down from the roof of the kitchen into the yard, or follow the vehicles employed in cleaning the streets of disagreeable substances, except where (at Natchez for instance), the number of these expecting parasites is so great that all the refuse of the town, within their reach, is insufficient: they then are seen following the scavengers' cart, hopping, flying, and alighting all about it, amidst grunting hogs and snarling dogs, until the contents, having reached a place of destination outside the suburbs, are deposited, and swallowed by them.

Whilst taking a view of this city from her lower ancient fort, I have for several days seen exhibitions of this kind.

I do not think that the vultures thus attached to cities are so much inclined to multiply as those more constantly resident in the forests, perceiving the diminution of number during the breeding season, and having remarked that many individuals known to me by particular marks made on them, and a special cast of countenance, were positively constant residents of town. The Vultur Aura is by no means so numerous as the atratus. I have seldom seen more than from twenty-five to thirty together; when, on the contrary, the latter are frequently associated to the number of an hundred.

The Vultur Aura is a more retired bird in habits, and more inclined to feed on dead game, snakes, lizards, frogs, and the dead fish that frequently are found about the sand-flats of rivers and borders of the sea-shore; is more cleanly in its appearance; and, as you will see by the difference in the drawings of both species, a neater and better formed bird. Its flight is also vastly superior in swiftness and elegance, requiring but a few flaps of its large wings to raise itself from the ground; after which it will sail for miles by merely turning either on one side or the other, and using its tail so slowly, to alter its course, that a person looking at it, whilst elevated and sailing, would be inclined to compare it to a machine fit to perform just a certain description of evolutions. The noise made by the vultures through the air, as they glide obliquely towards the earth, is often as great as that of our largest hawks, when falling on their prey; but they never reach the ground in this manner, always checking when about 100 yards high, and going several rounds, to examine well the spot they are about to alight on. The Vultur Aura cannot bear cold weather well; the few who, during the heat of summer, extend their excursions to the middle or northern states, generally return at the approach of winter; and I believe also, that very few of these birds breed east of the pine swamps of New Jersey. They are much attached to particular roosting-trees, and I know will come to them every night from a great distance. On alighting on these, each of them, anxious for a choice of place, creates always a general disturbance; and often, when quite dark, their hissing is heard in token of this inclination for supremacy. These roosting-trees of the Buzzards are generally in deep swamps, and mostly in high dead cypress trees; frequently, however, they roost with the carrion crows (Vultur atratus), and then it is on the largest dead timber of our fields, not unfrequently near the houses. Sometimes, also, this bird will roost close to the body of a thickly leaved tree: in such a position I have killed several when hunting wild turkeys by moonlight, mistaking them for these latter birds.

In Mississippi, Louisiana, Georgia, and Carolina, they prepare to breed early in the month of February, in common with most of the genus Falco. The most remarkable habit attached to their life is now to be seen: they assemble in parties of eight or ten, sometimes more, on large fallen logs, males and females, exhibiting the strongest desire to please mutually, and forming attachments in the choice of a mate, when each male, after many caresses, leads his partner off on the wing from the group, neither to mix nor associate with any more, until their offspring are well able to follow them in the air; after which, and until incubation takes place (about two weeks), they are seen sailing side by side the whole day.

These birds form no nest, yet are very choice respecting the place of deposit for their two eggs. Deep in the swamps, but always above the line of overflowing water-mark, a large hollow tree is sought, either standing or fallen, and the eggs are dropped on the mouldering particles inside, sometimes immediately near the entrance, at other times as much as twenty feet within. Both birds alternately incubate, and each feeds the other, by disgorging the contents of the stomach, or part of them, immediately before the bird that is sitting. Thirty-two days are required to bring forth the young from the shell; a thick down covers them completely; the parents, at that early period, and indeed for nearly two weeks, feed them by disgorging food considerably digested from their bills, in the manner of the common pigeons. The down acquires length, becomes thinner, and of a darker tint as the bird grows older. The young vultures, at three weeks, are large for their age, weighing then upwards of a pound, but extremely clumsy and inactive; unable to keep up their wings, then partly covered by large pin feathers, dragging them almost upon the ground, and bearing their whole weight on the full length of their legs and feet.

If approached at that time by a stranger or enemy, they hiss with a noise resembling that made by a strangling cat or fox, swell themselves, and hop sideways as fast as in their power. The parents, while sitting, and equally disturbed, act in the same manner; fly only a very short distance, waiting there the departure of the offender, to resume their duty. As the young grow larger, the parents simply throw their food before them; and, with all their exertions, seldom bring their offspring fat to the field. Their nests become so fetid, before the final departure of the young birds, that a person forced to remain there half an hour would be in danger of suffocation.

I have been frequently told, that the same pair will not abandon their first nest or place of deposit, unless broken up during incubation. This would attach to the vulture a constancy of affection that I cannot believe exists; as I do not think that pairing, in the manner described, is of any longer duration than the necessitous call of nature for the one season; and again, were they so inclined, they would never congregate in the manner they do, but would go in single pairs all their lives like eagles.

Vultures do not possess, in any degree, the power of bearing off their prey as falcons do, unless it be slender portions of entrails hanging by the bill. When chased by others from a carcass, it even renders them very awkward in their flight, and forces them to the earth again almost immediately.

Many persons in Europe believe that Buzzards prefer putrid flesh to any other. This is a mistake. Any flesh that they can at once tear with their very powerful bill in pieces, is swallowed, no matter how fresh. What I have said of their killing and devouring young animals, affords sufficient proofs of this; but it frequently happens that these birds are compelled to wait until the hide of their prey will yield to the bill. I have seen a large dead alligator, surrounded by vultures and carrion crows, of which nearly the whole of the flesh was so completely decomposed before these birds could perforate the tough skin of the monster, that, when at last it took place, their disappointment was apparent, and the matter, in an almost fluid state, abandoned by the vultures."

The above account of my experiments was read on the 16th day of December 1826, and was what I may call my "maiden speech." Well do I remember the uneasy feelings which I experienced: the audience was large, and composed of many of the most distinguished men of that enlightened country. My paper was a long one; and it contradicted all former opinions on the subject under discussion; yet the cheering appearance of kindness which every where met my eye, as I occasionally glanced around, gradually dispelled my uneasiness, and brought me to a state of confidence. The reading of the paper being at length accomplished, I was congratulated by the President, as well as by every member present. Many questions were put to me, all of which I answered as well as I could. My esteemed and learned friend, Professor Jameson, requested permission to publish my paper in his valuable journal, which I most readily granted. Strolling homeward, I felt proud that I had at last broken the charm by which men had so long been held in ignorance respecting the history of our Vultures, assured that the breach which I had made upon a general and deeply rooted opinion, must gradually dissolve it, as well as many other absurdities which have for ages infested science, like the vile grub beneath the bark of the noblest forest tree, retarding its growth, until happily removed by the constant hammerings of the industrious Woodpecker!

I returned to America, urged by enthusiasm, to pursue the study of Nature in the majestic forests; and finding that doubts excited by persons prejudiced against me, existed in the minds of some individuals, I resolved to have my series of experiments repeated by some other person, in those districts where Vultures abound, and in the presence of a number of scientific men, with the view of satisfying the incredulous as much as in my power. My travels were continued, and I became acquainted with one of the best practical ornithologists our country affords, and moreover a man of general learning, my worthy and esteemed friend the Reverend John Bachman of Charleston, South Carolina. To him I frequently wrote, requesting him to make experiments on the faculty of smelling in our vultures. In the winter of 1833-4, the following were made, and afterwards published in Loudon's Magazine of Natural History (No. 38, March 1834, p. 164).

"On the 16th December 1833, I commenced a series of experiments on the habits of our Vultures, which continued till the end of the month, and these have been renewed at intervals till the 15th of January 1834. Written invitations were sent to all the Professors of the two Medical Colleges in this city, to the officers and some of the members of the Philosophical Society, and such other individuals as we believed might take an interest in the subject. Although Mr Audubon was present during most of this time, and was willing to render any assistance required of him, yet he desired that we might make the experiments ourselves—that we might adopt any mode that the ingenuity or experience of others could suggest, at arriving at the most correct conclusions. The manner in which these experiments were made, together with the results, I now proceed to detail.

There were two points in particular on which the veracity of Audubon had been assailed, 1st, Whether the Vultures feed on fresh or putrid flesh, and, 2d, Whether they are attracted to their food by the eye or scent.

On the first head it was unnecessary to make many experiments, it being a subject with which even the most casual observer amongst us is well acquainted. It is well known that the roof of our market-house is covered with these birds every morning, waiting for any little scrap of fresh meat that may be thrown to them by the butchers! At our slaughter-pens, the offal is quickly devoured by our vultures, whilst it is yet warm from the recent death of the slain animal. I have seen the Vultur Aura a hundred miles in the interior of the country, where he may be said to be altogether in a state of nature, regaling himself on the entrails of a deer which had been killed not an hour before. Two years ago, Mr Henry Ward, who is now in London, and who was in the employ of the Philosophical Society of this city, was in the habit of depositing at the foot of my garden, in the suburbs of Charleston, the fresh carcasses of the birds he had skinned, and in the course of half an hour, both species of Vulture, and particularly the Turkey Buzzard, came and devoured the whole. Nay, we discovered that Vultures fed on the bodies of those of their own species that had been thus exposed. A few days ago, a Vulture that had been killed by some boys in the neighbourhood, and that had fallen near the place where we were performing our experiments, attracted, on the following morning, the sight of a Turkey Buzzard, who commenced pulling off its feathers and feeding upon it. This brought down two of the Black Vultures, who joined him in the repast. In this instance, the former chased away the two latter to some distance,—an unusual occurrence, as the Black Vulture is the strongest bird, and generally keeps off the other species. We had the dead bird lightly covered with some rice chaff, where it still remains undiscovered by the Vultures.

2d, Whether is the Vulture attracted to its food by the sense of smell or sight? A number of experiments were tried to satisfy us on this head, and all led to the same result. A few of these I proceed to detail.

1st, A dead Hare (Lepus timidus), a Pheasant (Phasianus colchicus), a Kestrel (Falco Tinnunculus), a recent importation from Europe, together with a wheel-barrow full of offal from the slaughter-pens, were deposited on the ground, at the foot of my garden. A frame was raised above it at the distance of 12 inches from the earth; this was covered with brushwood, allowing the air to pass freely beneath it, so as to convey the effluvium far and wide; and although 25 days have now gone by, and the flesh has become offensive, not a single Vulture appears to have observed it, though hundreds have passed over it, and some very near it, in search of their daily food. Although the Vultures did not discover this dainty mess, the dogs in the vicinity, who appeared to have better olfactory nerves, frequently visited the place, and gave us much trouble in the prosecution of our experiments.

2d, I now suggested an experiment which would enable us to test the inquiry whether the Vulture would be attracted to an object by the sight alone. A coarse painting on canvass was made, representing a sheep skinned and cut open. This proved very amusing;—no sooner was this picture placed on the ground, than the Vultures observed it, alighted near, walked over it, and some of them commenced tugging at the painting. They seemed much disappointed and surprised, and after having satisfied their curiosity, flew away. This experiment was repeated more than fifty times, with the same result. The painting was then placed within fifteen feet of the place where the offal was deposited; they came as usual, walked around it, but in no instance, evinced the slightest symptoms of their having scented the offal which was so near him.

3d, The most offensive portions of the offal were now placed on the earth; these were covered over by a thin canvass cloth; on this were strewed several pieces of fresh beef. The Vultures came, ate the flesh that was in sight, and although they were standing on a quantity beneath them, and although their bills were frequently within the eighth of an inch of this putrid matter, they did not discover it. We made a small rent in the canvass, and they at once discovered the flesh, and began to devour it. We drove them away, replaced the canvass with a piece that was entire; again they commenced eating the fresh pieces exhibited to their view, without discovering the hidden food they were trampling upon.

4th, The medical gentlemen who were present made a number of experiments to test the absurdity of a story, widely circulated in the United States, through the newspapers, that the eye of the Vulture, when perforated, and the sight extinguished, would in a few minutes be restored, in consequence of his placing his head under his wing, the down of which was said to renew his sight. The eyes were perforated; I need not add, that although they were refilled, and had the appearance of rotundity, yet the bird became blind, and that it was beyond the power of the healing art to restore his lost sight. His life was, however, preserved, by occasionally putting food in his mouth. In this situation they placed him in a small out-house, hung the flesh of the hare (which had now become offensive) within his reach; nay, they frequently placed it within an inch of his nostrils, but the bird gave no evidence of any knowledge that his favourite food was so near him. This was repeated from time to time during an interval of twenty-four days (the period of his death), with the same results.

We were not aware that any other experiment could be made to enable us to arrive at more satisfactory conclusions; and as we feared, if prolonged, they might become offensive to the neighbours, we abandoned them."

As my humble name can scarcely be known to many of those into whose hands this communication may fall, I have thought proper to obtain the signature of some of the gentlemen who aided me in, or witnessed these experiments; and I must also add, that there was not an individual among the crowd of persons who came to judge for themselves, who did not coincide with those who have given their signatures to this certificate.

"We the subscribers, having witnessed the experiments made on the habits of the Vultures of Carolina (Cathartes Aura and Cathartes Jota), commonly called Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow, feel assured that they devour fresh as well as putrid food of any kind, and that they are guided to their food altogether through their sense of sight, and not that of smell.

• Robert Henry, A.M., President of the College of South Carolina.
• John Wagner, M.D., Prof. of Surg. at the Med. Col. State So. Car.
• Henry R. Frost, M.D., Pro. Mat. Med. Col. State So. Car.
• C. F. Leitner, Lecturer on Bot. and Nat. His. So. Car.
• B. B. Strobel, M.D.
• Martin Strobel."

It now remains for me to present you with an account of those habits of the Black Vulture which have not been described above. This bird is a constant resident in all our Southern States, extends far up the Mississippi, and continues the whole year in Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, and even in the State of Ohio as far as Cincinnati. Along the Atlantic coast, it is, I believe, rarely seen farther east than Maryland. It seems to give a preference to maritime districts, or the neighbourhood of water. Although shy in the woods, it is half domesticated in and about our cities and villages, where it finds food without the necessity of using much exertion. Charleston, Savannah, New Orleans, Natchez, and other cities, are amply provided with these birds, which may be seen flying or walking about the streets the whole day in groups. They also regularly attend the markets and shambles, to pick up the pieces of flesh thrown away by the butchers, and, when an opportunity occurs, leap from one bench to another, for the purpose of helping themselves. Hundreds of them are usually found, at all hours of the day, about the slaughter-houses, which are their favourite resort. They alight on the roofs and chimney-tops, wherever these are not guarded by spikes or pieces of glass, which, however, they frequently are, for the purpose of preventing the contamination by their ordure of the rain water, which the inhabitants of the Southern States collect in tanks, or cisterns, for domestic use. They follow the carts loaded with offal or dead animals, to the places in the suburbs where these are deposited, and wait the skinning of a cow or horse, when in a few hours they devour its flesh, in the company of the dogs, which are also accustomed to frequent such places. On these occasions, they fight with each other, leap about and tug in all the hurry and confusion imaginable, uttering a harsh sort of hiss or grunt, which may be heard at a distance of several hundred yards. Should eagles make their appearance at such a juncture, the Carrion Crows retire, and patiently wait until their betters are satisfied, but they pay little regard to the dogs. When satiated, they rise together, should the weather be fair, mount high in the air, and perform various evolutions, flying in large circles, and alternately plunging and rising, until they at length move off in a straight direction, or alight on the dead branches of trees, where they spread out their wings and tail to the sun or the breeze. In cold and wet weather they assemble round the chimney-tops, to receive the warmth imparted by the smoke. I never heard of their disgorging their food on such occasions, that being never done unless when they are feeding their young, or when suddenly alarmed or caught. In that case, they throw up the contents of their stomach with wonderful quickness and power.

No law exists for the protection of this or the other species, their usefulness alone affording them security in the Southern States, although the people generally speak of a law with the view of preventing them from being molested. As to their propensity to attack live animals, at least those in a sickly state, although I could adduce numerous instances, it will suffice to produce the following attestations:—

"We the subscribers, natives of South Carolina, certify, that the Vultures of this State, commonly called the Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow, particularly the latter, will attack and destroy living animals, by feeding on them, such as young poultry, and the young of sheep and hogs; that they will also attack grown animals when in a helpless state, and destroy them in like manner.

• Paul S. H. Lee.
• Stiles Rivers.
• L. Witsell.
• Thos. Riggs.
• Thos. W. Boone.
• Malachi Ford.
• L. S. Fishburne.

Saint Bartholomew Parish, Colleton District, 32 miles from Charleston, 25th Jan. 1834."

"I hereby certify, that some years ago—I cannot specify the precise time, but have a perfect recollection of the fact—I saw a horse lying on the common, about half-a-mile from the city of Charleston, surrounded by a number of Buzzards, apparently feeding on him. My curiosity being excited by observing the horse move, I approached and drove off the Buzzards. They had already plucked out the eyes of the horse, and picked a wound in the anus, where I discovered a jet of blood from a small artery, which had been divided. I am well satisfied that the horse did not die for many hours afterwards. He struggled considerably whilst the Buzzards were operating on him, but was unable to rise from the ground.

B. B. Strobel, M.D.

Charleston, 5th Feb. 1834."

"I certify, that at my plantation, about four miles from the city of Charleston, one of my cattle, about two years old, in feeding in a ditch, got its horn so entangled in the root of a cane, as to be unable to get out. In this situation it was attacked by the Turkey Buzzard and Carrion Crow, who picked out one of its eyes, and would have killed it by feeding on it while alive, if it had not been discovered. It was extricated and driven home, but had been so much injured, that I had it knocked on the head to put it out of its misery.

Gilbert C. Geddes.

Charleston, 26th Feb. 1834."

The Carrion Crows of Charleston resort at night to a swampy wood across the Ashley river, about two miles from the city. I visited this roosting place in company with my friend John Bachman, approaching it by a close thicket of undergrowth, tangled with vines and briars. When nearly under the trees on which the birds were roosted, we found the ground destitute of vegetation, and covered with ordure and feathers, mixed with the broken branches of the trees. The stench was horrible. The trees were completely covered with birds, from the trunk to the very tips of the branches. They were quite unconcerned; but, having determined to send them the contents of our guns, and firing at the same instant, we saw most of them fly off, hissing, grunting, disgorging, and looking down on their dead companions as if desirous of devouring them. We kept up a brisk fusillade for several minutes, when they all flew off to a great distance high in the air; but as we retired, we observed them gradually descending and settling on the same trees. The piece of ground was about two acres in extent, and the number of Vultures we estimated at several thousands. During very wet weather, they not unfrequently remain the whole day on the roost; but when it is fine, they reach the city every morning by the first glimpse of day.

The flight of this species, although laboured, is powerful and protracted. Before rising from the ground, they are obliged to take several leaps, which they do in an awkward sidelong manner. Their flight is continued by flappings, repeated eight or ten times, alternating with sailings of from thirty to fifty yards. The wings are disposed at right angles to the body, and the feet protrude beyond the tail, so as to be easily seen. In calm weather, they may be heard passing over you at the height of forty or fifty yards; so great is the force with which they beat the air. When about to alight, they allow their legs to dangle beneath, the better to enable them to alight.

They feed on all sorts of flesh, fresh or putrid, whether of quadrupeds or birds, as well as on fish. I saw a great number of them eating a dead shark near the wharf at St Augustine in East Florida; and I observed them many times devouring young cormorants and herons in the nest, on the keys bordering that peninsula.

The Carrion Crow and Turkey Buzzard possess great power of recollection, so as to recognise at a great distance a person who has shot at them, and even the horse on which he rides. On several occasions I have observed that they would fly off at my approach, after I had trapped several, when they took no notice of other individuals; and they avoided my horse in the pastures, after I had made use of him to approach and shoot them.

At the commencement of the love season, which is about the beginning of February, the gesticulation and parade of the males are extremely ludicrous. They first strut somewhat in the manner of the Turkey Cock, then open their wings, and, as they approach the female, lower their head, its wrinkled skin becoming loosened, so as entirely to cover the bill, and emit a puffing sound, which is by no means musical. When these actions have been repeated five or six times, and the conjugal compact sealed, the "happy pair" fly off, and remain together until their young come abroad. These birds form no nest, and consequently never breed on trees; the hollow of a prostrate log, or the excavation of a bank of earth, suffices for them. They never lay more than two eggs, which are deposited on the bare ground; they are about three inches in length, rather pointed at the smaller end, thick in the shell, with a pure white ground, marked towards the greater ends with large irregular dashes of black and dark brown. Twenty-one days are required for hatching them. The male and female sit by turns, and feed each other. The young are at first covered with a light cream-coloured down, and have an extremely uncouth appearance. They are fed by regurgitation almost in the same manner as pigeons, and are abundantly supplied with food. When fledged, which is commonly about the beginning of June, they follow their parents through the woods. At this period, their head is covered with feathers to the very mandibles. The plumage of this part gradually disappears, and the skin becomes wrinkled; but they are not in full plumage till the second year. During the breeding season, they frequent the cities less, those remaining at that time being barren birds, of which there appear to be a good number. I believe that the individuals which are no longer capable of breeding, spend all their time in and about the cities, and roost on the roofs and chimneys. They go out, in company with the Turkey Buzzards, to the yards of the hospitals and asylums, to feed on the remains of the provisions cooked there, which are as regularly thrown out to them.

I have represented a pair of Carrion Crows or Black Vultures in full plumage, engaged with the head of our Common Deer, the Cervus virginianus.

Cathartes Jota, Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 23.

Cathartes atratus, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Boreali-Americ. part ii. p. 6.

Vultur Jota, Gmel. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 247.

Black Vulture or Carrion Crow, Vultur atratus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ix. p. 104. Pl. 75. fig. 2.—Nuttall, Manual, p. 46.

Adult Male. Plate CVI. Fig. 1.

Bill elongated, rather stout, straight at the base, slightly compressed; the upper mandible covered to the middle by the cere, broad, curved, and acute at the end, the edge doubly undulated. Nostrils medial, approximate, linear, pervious. Head elongated, neck longish, body robust. Feet strong; tarsus roundish, covered with small rhomboidal scales; toes scutellate above, the middle one much longer, the lateral nearly equal, second and third united at the base by a web. Claws arched, strong, rather obtuse.

Plumage rather compact, with ordinary lustre. The head and upper part of the neck are destitute of feathers, having a black, rugose, carunculated skin, sparsely covered with short hairs, and downy behind. Wings ample, long, the first quill rather short, third and fourth longest. Tail longish, even, or very slightly emarginated at the end, of twelve broad, straight, feathers.

Bill greyish-yellow at the end, dusky at the base, as is the corrugated skin of the head and neck. Iris reddish-brown. Feet yellowish-grey; claws black. The general colour of the plumage is dull-black, slightly glossed with blue; the primary quills light brownish on the inside.