No More Learning



## p. 16017 (#363) ##########################################

16017
ALEXANDER WILSON
(1766-1813)
BY SPENCER TROTTER
love of nature is a deep-planted human instinct that finds ex-
pression in the literature of every people.
It is the same
vital interest that runs alike through the lines of the poet's
verse and the glowing prose narrative of the naturalist.
The poet
and the naturalist are often united in the same individual; and it
takes only some circumstance of environment to throw the balance
in favor of one or the other of these facul-
ties.
Alexander Wilson, the Paisley Weaver,
was a poet, who through force of circum-
stances became the Father of American
Ornithology. ” He was only one of the
minor stars in 'the heaven of Scotland's
Makers. ” Not to be named with Ramsay,
or Burns, or Nicoll, he yet holds a place
with Tannahill and Nicholson, William Ten-
nant, and other of the lesser poets.
Wilson was born of honest though lowly
parents, on the 6th of July, 1766, in the
town of Paisley, Scotland. During his ALEXANDER Wilson
childhood his father thought to fit him for
a learned profession; and accordingly he was placed with a Mr. Bar-
las, a student of divinity, whose influence undoubtedly developed in
the lad a love for things literary. His mother's death, his father's
second marriage and increasing family, prevented the furtherance of
his studies; and by his own request he was, at the age of thirteen,
bound as a weaver apprentice to William Duncan of Paisley. Later
we find him a journeyman weaver, but all the while brooding over
his inability to lead a life of study. He indulged his fancy in fre-
quent rambles through the woodlands, and along the banks of the
Calder, in the delights of which his poetic nature found a solace.
Many poems and fugitive verses written about this time are full
of the rustic scenes and the life of the simple folk among whom he
dwelt. For a time he worked at the loom again with a Mr. Brodie,
XXVII-1002



## p. 16018 (#364) ##########################################

16018
ALEXANDER WILSON
a man of some attainment in learning, whose friendly influence con-
firmed Wilson's love for study. During these years he wandered
over the country, gun in hand, and acquired that habit of accurate
observation which went far toward his future career as the Pioneer
Ornithologist of America.
Discouraged with his failure to succeed at home, the poet-weaver
embarked for the New World, and arrived at New Castle, Delaware,
in July 1794.
The vicissitudes of the new life threw Wilson into
various occupations, - peddler, copper-plate printer, and schoolmaster.
It was while teaching at Kingsessing, near Philadelphia, that he
formed the lifelong friendship with William Bartram the botanist,
whose beautiful garden home stood near by on the western bank of
the Schuylkill. The love of birds, which had always been a source
of delight to Wilson, was fostered by this friendship; and the naturalist
side of his nature was awakened.
Through the advice and encouragement of his friend Lawson the
engraver, he learned to draw, though past his fortieth year; and the
making of an American Ornithology became the passion of his life.
The shadow of melancholy that so persistently followed him was
largely dispelled by his enthusiasm in the pursuit of this new study.
Across the mountains; navigating the hio in a small boat; wan-
dering alone through the wilderness of forest and swamp; sleeping
under the stars or in the rude cabin of the settler,- the first Ameri-
can ornithologist sought, studied, and drew the birds of the Western
World. Some of his letters descriptive of the wild frontier read like
a romance. Many a hitherto unknown bird was described and por-
trayed through his indefatigable zeal. Before the completion of his
last volume Wilson fell ill, as a result of exposure in the pursuit
of some rare bird, and died at Philadelphia, August 23d, 1813. His
remains lie in the church-yard of Gloria Dei, - Old Swede's Church, -
Philadelphia. His work is his monument.
Wilson's life and writings will always appeal to the general reader.
Even to the ornithologist, the personality of the man and the vitality
of his work are the chief charms. The poem on the (Fish-Hawk)
is full of the strong, fresh breeze and local color of the beaches, and
that on "The Bluebird'— «Wilson's Bluebird ” — breathes of the free,
open air of the country-side.
n
-
Theneid
Sitte,


## p. 16019 (#365) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16019
THE BLUEBIRD
From American Ornithology)
T"
>
He usual spring and summer song of the bluebird is a soft,
agreeable, and oft-repeated warble, uttered with open quiv-
ering wings; and is extremely pleasing. In his motions and
general character he has great resemblance to the robin-redbreast
of Britain; and had he the brown-olive of that bird, instead of
his own blue, could scarcely be distinguished from him. Like
him, he is known to almost every child; and shows as much con-
fidence in man by associating with him in summer, as the other
by his familiarity in winter. He is also of a mild and peaceful
disposition, seldom fighting or quarreling with other birds. His
society is courted by the inhabitants of the country; and few
farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suitable place, a snug
little summer-house, ready-fitted and rent-free. For this he more
than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song,
and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys.
Towards fall (that is, in the month of October) his song changes
to a single plaintive note, as he passes over the yellow, many-
colored woods; and its melancholy air recalls to our minds the
approaching decay of the face of nature. Even after the trees
are stript of their leaves, he still lingers over his native fields, as
if loath to leave them. About the middle or end of November,
few or none of them are seen; but with every return of mild
and open weather, we hear his plaintive note amidst the fields
or in the air, seeming to deplore the devastations of winter. In.
deed, he appears scarcely ever totally to forsake us, but to follow
fair weather through all its journeyings till the return of spring.
Such are the mild and pleasing manners of the bluebird; and
so universally is he esteemed that I have often regretted that
no pastoral Muse has yet arisen in this western woody world, to
do justice to his name, and to endear him to us still more by
the tenderness of verse, as has been done to his representative
in Britain, the robin-redbreast. A small acknowledgment of this
kind I have to offer, which the reader I hope will excuse as a
tribute to rural innocence.
When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more,
Green meadows and brown furrowed fields reappearing,
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering;


## p. 16020 (#366) ##########################################

16020
ALEXANDER WILSON
When first the lone butterfly Aits on the wing,
When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing,
Oh then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring!
And hails with his warblings the charms of the season.
Then loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring;
Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the weather;
The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring,
And spicewood and sassafras budding together:
Oh then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair;
Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure:
The bluebird will chant from his box such an air,
That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure!
He Aits through the orchard, he visits each tree,
The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms;
He snaps up destroyers wherever they be,
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms;
He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours,
The worms from the webs, where they riot and welter:
His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks is — in summer a shelter.
The plowman is pleased when he gleans in his train,
Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him;
The gardener delights in his sweet, simple strain,
And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him;
The slow lingering schoolboys forget they'll be chid,
While gazing intent as he warbles before them
· In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red,
That each little loiterer seems to adore him.
When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er,
And autumn slow enters so silent and sallow,
And millions of warblers, that charmed us before,
Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow,-
The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home,
Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow;
Till, forced by the horrors of winter to roam,
He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow.
While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm,-
The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven,
Or love's native music have influence to charm,
Or sympathy's glow to our feelings is given,-


## p. 16021 (#367) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16021
Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be:
His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure;
For, through bleakest storms, if a calm he but see,
He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure!
The bluebird, in summer and fall, is fond of frequenting open
pasture-fields; and there, perching on the stalks of the great mul-
lein, to look out for passing insects. A whole family of them
are often seen thus situated, as if receiving lessons of dexterity
from their more expert parents, who can espy a beetle crawling
among the grass at a considerable distance; and after feeding
on it, instantly resume their former position. But whoever in-
formed Dr. Latham that “This bird is never seen on trees, though
it makes its nest in the holes of them,” might as well have said
that the Americans are never seen in the streets, though they
build their houses by the sides of them. For what is there in
the construction of the feet and claws of this bird to prevent it
from perching? Or what sight more common to an inhabitant
of this country than the bluebird perched on the top of a peach
or apple tree; or among the branches of those reverend broad-
armed chestnut trees, that stand alone in the middle of our fields,
bleached by the rains and blasts of ages ?
THE WILD PIGEON
From An
rican Ornithology)
The
His remarkable bird merits a distinguished place in the annals
of our feathered tribes,- a claim to which I shall endeavor
to do justice; and though it would be impossible, in the
bounds allotted to this account, to relate all I have seen and
heard of this species, yet no circumstance shall be omitted with
which I am acquainted (however extraordinary some of these may
appear) that may tend to illustrate its history.
The wild pigeon of the United States inhabits a wide and
extensive region of North America on this side of the Great
Stony Mountains; beyond which, to the westward, I have not
heard of their being seen. According to Mr. Hutchins, they
abound in the country round Hudson's Bay, where they usually
remain as late as December; feeding, when the ground is covered
with snow, on the buds of juniper. They spread over the whole
of Canada; were seen by Captain Lewis and his party near the
>


## p. 16022 (#368) ##########################################

16022
ALEXANDER WILSON
Great Falls of the Missouri, upwards of 2,500 miles from its
mouth, reckoning the meanderings of the river; were also met
with in the interior of Louisiana by Colonel Pike; and extended
their range as far south as the Gulf of Mexico; occasionally vis-
iting or breeding in almost every quarter of the United States.
But the most remarkable characteristic of these birds is their
associating together — both in their migrations, and also during
the period of incubation - in such prodigious numbers as almost
to surpass belief; and which has no parallel among any other of
the feathered tribes on the face of the earth, with which natur-
alists are acquainted.
These migrations appear to be undertaken rather in quest of
food than merely to avoid the cold of the climate: since we find
them lingering in the northern regions, around Hudson's Bay,
so late as December; and since their appearance is so casual
and irregular, sometimes not visiting certain districts for several
years in any considerable numbers, while at other times they are
innumerable. I have witnessed these migrations in the Genesee
country, often in Pennsylvania, and also in various parts of Vir-
ginia, with amazement; but all that I had then seen of them
were mere straggling parties when compared with the congre-
gated millions which I have since beheld in our western forests,
- in the States of Ohio, Kentucky, and the Indiana Territory.
These fertile and extensive regions abound with the nutritious
beech-nut, which constitutes the chief food of the wild pigeon.
In seasons when these nuts are abundant, corresponding multi-
tudes of pigeons may be confidently expected. It sometimes hap-
pens that having consumed the whole produce of the beech-trees
in an extensive district, they discover another, at the distance
perhaps of sixty or eighty miles; to which they regularly repair
every morning, and return as regularly in the course of the day
or in the evening to their place of general rendezvous,- or as
it is usually called, the roosting-place. These roosting-places are
always in the woods, and sometimes occupy a large extent of for-
est. When they have frequented one of these places for some
time, the appearance it exhibits is surprising. The ground is
covered to the depth of several inches with their dung: all the
tender grass and underwood destroyed; the surface strewed with
large limbs of trees, broken down by the weight of the birds
clustering one above another; and the trees themselves, for thou-
sands of acres, killed as completely as if girdled with an
axe.


## p. 16023 (#369) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16023
was
The marks of this desolation remain for many years on the spot;
and numerous places could be pointed out, where for several
years after, scarce a single vegetable made its appearance.
When these roosts are first discovered, the inhabitants from
considerable distances visit them in the night, with guns, clubs,
long poles, pots of sulphur, and various other engines of destruc-
tion. In a few hours they fill many sacks, and load their horses
with them. By the Indians, a pigeon roost or breeding-place is
considered an important source of national profit and dependence
for that season; and all their active ingenuity is exercised on
the occasion, The breeding-place differs from the former in its
greater extent. In the western countries above mentioned, these
are generally in beech woods, and often extend in nearly a
straight line across the country for a great way. Not far from
Shelbyville in the State of Kentucky, about five years ago, there
one of these breeding-places which stretched through the
woods in nearly a north and south direction, was several miles
in breadth, and was said to be upwards of forty miles in ex-
tent! In this tract, almost every tree was furnished with nests,
wherever the branches could accommodate them. The pigeons
made their first appearance there about the oth of April, and
left it altogether, with their young, before the 25th of May.
As soon as the young were fully grown, and before they left
the nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants from all parts
of the adjacent country came with wagons, axes, beds, cooking
utensils,— many of them accompanied by the greater part of
their families, -and encamped for several days at this immense
nursery. Several of them informed me that the noise in the
woods was so great as to terrify their horses, and that it was
difficult for one person to hear another speak without bawling in
his ear.
The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees,
eggs, and young squab-pigeons, which had been precipitated from
above, and on which herds of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buz-
zards, and eagles were sailing about in great numbers, and seiz-
ing the squabs from their nests at pleasure; while from twenty
feet upwards to the tops of the trees, the view through the
woods presented a perpetual tumult of crowding and fluttering
multitudes of pigeons, their wings roaring like thunder, mingled
with the frequent crash of falling timber: for now the axemen
were at work, cutting down those trees that seemed to be most
crowded with nests, and contrived to fell them in such a manner


## p. 16024 (#370) ##########################################

16024
ALEXANDER WILSON
that in their descent they might bring down several others; by
which means the falling of one large tree sometimes produced
two hundred squabs, little inferior in size to the old ones, and
almost one mass of fat. On some single trees, upwards of one
hundred nests were found, each containing one young only; a
circumstance in the history of this bird not generally known to
naturalists. It was dangerous to walk under these flying and
fluttering millions, from the frequent fall of large branches,
broken down by the weight of the multitudes above, and which
in their descent often destroyed numbers of the birds them-
selves; while the clothes of those engaged in traversing the
woods were completely covered with the excrements of the
pigeons.
These circumstances were related to me by many of the most
respectable part of the community in that quarter; and were
confirmed, in part, by what I myself witnessed. I passed for
several miles through this same breeding-place, where every tree
was spotted with nests, the remains of those above described. In
many instances, I counted upwards of ninety nests on a single
tree; but the pigeons had abandoned this place for another, sixty
or eighty miles off towards Green River, where they were said at
that time to be equally numerous. From the great numbers that
were constantly passing overhead to or from that quarter, I had
no doubt of the truth of this statement. The mast had been
chiefly consumed in Kentucky; and the pigeons, every morning
a little before sunrise, set out for the Indiana Territory, the
nearest part of which was about sixty miles distant. Many of
these returned before ten o'clock; and the great body generally
appeared, on their return, a little after noon.
I had left the public road to visit the remains of the breeding-
place near Shelbyville, and was traversing the woods with my gun
on my way to Frankfort, when about one o'clock, the pigeons,
which I had observed Aying the greater part of the morning
northerly, began to return in such immense numbers as I never
before had witnessed. Coming to an opening by the side of a
creek called the Benson, where I had a more uninterrupted view,
I was astonished at their appearance. They were flying with
great steadiness and rapidity at a height beyond gunshot, in
several strata deep; and so close together that could shot have
reached them, one discharge could not have failed of bringing
down several individuals. From right to left, as far as the eye


## p. 16025 (#371) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16025
could reach, the breadth of this vast procession extended, seeming
everywhere equally crowded. Curious to determine how long this
appearance would continue, I took out my watch to note the
time, and sat down to observe them. It was then half-past one.
I sat for more than an hour, but instead of a diminution of this
prodigious procession, it seemed rather to increase both in num-
bers and rapidity; and anxious to reach Frankfort before night,
I rose and went on. About four o'clock in the afternoon I crossed
the Kentucky River, at the town of Frankfort, at which time the
living torrent above my head seemed as numerous and as extens-
ive as ever. Long after this I observed them in large bodies,
that continued to pass for six or eight minutes, and these again
were followed by other detached bodies, all moving in the same
southeast direction till after six in the evening. The great breadth
of front which this mighty multitude preserved, would seem to
intimate a corresponding breadth of their breeding-place; which,
by several gentlemen who had lately passed through part of it,
was stated to me at several miles. It was said to be in Green
County, and that the young began to fly about the middle of
March. On the 17th of April, forty-nine miles beyond Danville,
and not far from Green River, I crossed this same breeding-
place; where the nests, for more than three miles, spotted every
tree: the leaves not being yet out, I had a fair prospect of them,
and was really astonished at their numbers. A few bodies of
pigeons lingered yet in different parts of the woods, the roaring
of whose wings was heard in various quarters around me.
All accounts agree in stating that each nest contains only
one young squab. These are so extremely fat that the Indians,
and many of the whites, are accustomed to melt down the fat
for domestic purposes, as a substitute for butter and lard. At
the time they leave the nest they are nearly as heavy as the old
ones; but become much leaner after they are turned out to shift
for themselves.
It is universally asserted in the western countries that the
pigeons, though they have only one young at a time, breed thrice,
and sometimes four times, in the same season: the circumstances
already mentioned render this highly probable. It is also worthy
of observation that this takes place during that period when
acorns, beech-nuts, etc. , are scattered about in the greatest abund-
ance, and mellowed by the frost. But they are not confined to
these alone: buckwheat, hempseed, Indian corn, holly-berries,


## p. 16026 (#372) ##########################################

16026
ALEXANDER WILSON
hackberries, huckleberries, and many others, furnish them with
abundance at almost all seasons. The acorns of the live-oak are
also eagerly sought after by these birds; and rice has been fre-
quently found in individuals killed many hundred miles to the
northward of the nearest rice plantation. The vast quantity of
mast which these multitudes consume is a serious loss to the
bears, pigs, squirrels, and other dependents on the fruits of the
forest. I have taken, from the crop of a single wild pigeon, a
good handful of the kernels of beech-nuts, intermixed with acorns
and chestnuts.
To form a rough estimate of the daily consumption of one of
these immense flocks, let us first attempt to calculate the num-
bers of that above mentioned, as seen in passing between Frank-
fort and the Indiana Territory. If we suppose this column to
have been one mile in breadth (and I believe it to have been
much more), and that it moved at the rate of one mile in a
minute, - four hours, the time it continued passing, would make
its whole length two hundred and forty miles. Again, supposing
that each square yard of this moving body comprehended three
pigeons, the square yards in the whole space, multiplied by
three, would give 2,2 30, 272,000 pigeons! — an almost inconceiv-
able multitude, and yet probably far below the actual amount.
Computing each of these to consume half a pint of mast daily,
the whole quantity at this rate would equal 17,424,000 bushels
per day! Heaven has wisely and graciously given to these birds
rapidity of flight, and a disposition to range over vast unculti-
vated tracts of the earth; otherwise they must have perished in
the districts where they resided, or devoured up the whole pro-
ductions of agriculture, as well as those of the forests.
A few observations on the mode of flight of these birds must
not be omitted: The appearance of large detached bodies of
them in air, and the various evolutions they display, are strik-
ingly picturesque and interesting. In descending the Ohio by
inyself in the month of February, I often rested on my oars
to contemplate their aerial maneuvres. A column eight or ten
miles in length would appear from Kentucky, high in air, steer-
ing across to Indiana, The leaders of this great body would
sometimes gradually vary their course, until it formed a large
bend of more than a mile in diameter, those behind tracing the
exact route of their predecessors. This would continue some-
times long after both extremities were beyond the reach of sight;
9


## p. 16027 (#373) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16027
so that the whole, with its glittery undulations, marked a space
on the face of the heavens resembling the windings of a vast
and majestic river. When this bend became very great, the birds,
as if sensible of the unnecessary circuitous course they were tak-
ing, suddenly changed their direction; so that what was in column
before became an immense front, straightening all its indentures
until it swept the heavens in one vast and infinitely extended
line. Other lesser bodies also united with each other as they
happened to approach, with such ease and elegance of evolution,
forming new figures, and varying these as they united or sepa-
rated, that I was never tired of contemplating them. Sometimes
a hawk would make a sweep on a particular part of the column,
from a great height, when almost as quick as lightning that part
shot downwards out of the common track; but soon rising again,
continued advancing at the same height as before. This inflec-
.
tion was continued by those behind, who on arriving at this point
dived down almost perpendicularly to a great depth, and rising,
followed the exact path of those that went before. As these
vast bodies passed over the river near me, the surface of the
water, which was before smooth as glass, appeared marked with
innumerable dimples, occasioned by the dropping of their dung,
resembling the commencement of a shower of large drops of rain
or hail.
Happening to go ashore one charming afternoon to purchase
some milk at a house that stood near the river, and while talking
with the people within doors, I was suddenly struck with aston-
ishment at a loud rushing roar, succeeded by instant darkness;
which on the first moment I took for a tornado, about to over-
whelm the house and everything around in destruction. The peo-
ple, observing my surprise, coolly said, “It is only the pigeons; ”
and on running out, I beheld a flock thirty or forty yards in
width sweeping along very low, between the house and the
mountain or height that formed the second bank of the river.
These continued passing for more than a quarter of an hour, and
at length varied their bearing so as to pass over the mountain,
behind which they disappeared before the rear came up.
In the Atlantic States, though they never appear in such
unparalleled multitudes, they are sometimes very numerous; and
great havoc is then made amongst them with the gun, the clap-
net, and various other implements of destruction. As soon as it
is ascertained in a town that the pigeons are flying numerously
)


## p. 16028 (#374) ##########################################

16028
ALEXANDER WILSON
in the neighborhood, the gunners rise en masse; the clap-nets are
spread out on suitable situations, commonly on an open height
in an old buckwheat field; four or five live pigeons, with their
eyelids sewed up, are fastened on a movable stick; a small hut
of branches is fitted up for the fowler, at the distance of forty
or fifty yards; by the pulling of a string, the stick on which the
pigeons rest is alternately elevated and depressed, which produces
a fluttering of their wings similar to that of birds just alighting;
this being perceived by the passing flocks, they descend with
great rapidity, and finding corn, buckwheat, etc. , strewed about,
begin to feed, and are instantly, by the pulling of a cord, covered
by the net. In this manner ten, twenty, and even thirty dozen
have been caught at one sweep.
Meantime the air is darkened
with large bodies of them, moving in various directions; the
woods also swarm with them in search of acorns; and the thun-
dering of musketry is perpetual on all sides from morning to
night. Wagon-loads of them are poured into market, where they
sell from fifty to twenty-five, and even twelve cents, per dozen;
and pigeons become the order of the day at dinner, breakfast,
and supper, until the very name becomes sickening. When they
have been kept alive, and fed for some time on corn and buck-
wheat, their flesh acquires great superiority; but in their common
state they are dry and blackish, and far inferior to the full-grown
young ones or squabs.
The nest of the wild pigeon is formed of a few dry slender
twigs carelessly put together, and with so little concavity that
the young one, when half grown, can easily be seen from below.
The eggs are pure white. Great numbers of hawks, and some-
times the bald eagle himself, hover about those breeding-places,
and seize the old or the young from the nest amidst the rising
multitudes, and with the most daring effrontery. The young,
when beginning to fly, confine themselves to the under part
of the tall woods, where there is no brush, and where nuts and
acorns are abundant, searching among the leaves for mast; and
appear like a prodigious torrent rolling along through the woods,
every one striving to be in the front. Vast numbers of them
are shot while in this situation. A person told me that he once
rode furiously into one of these rolling multitudes, and picked up
thirteen pigeons which had been trampled to death by his horse's
feet. In a few minutes they will beat the whole nuts from a
tree with their wings, while all is a scramble both above and


## p. 16029 (#375) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16029
below for the same. They have the same cooing notes common
to domestic pigeons, but much less of their gesticulations. In
some flocks you will find nothing but young ones, which are
easily distinguishable by their motley dress. In others they will
be mostly females; and again great multitudes of males with
few or no females. I cannot account for this in any other way
than that, during the time of incubation, the males are exclusively
engaged in procuring food, both for themselves and their mates;
and the young, being unable yet to undertake these extensive
excursions, associate together accordingly. But even in winter I
know of several species of birds who separate in this manner;
particularly the red-winged starling, among whom thousands of
old males may be found, with few or no young or females along
with them.
Stragglers from these immense armies settle in almost every
part of the country, particularly among the beech woods, and in
the pine and hemlock woods of the eastern and northern parts
of the continent. Mr. Pennant informs us that they breed near
Moose Fort at Hudson's Bay, in N. lat. 51°; and I myself have
seen the remains of a large breeding-place as far south as the
country of the Chactaws, in lat. 32°. In the former of these
places they are said to remain until December: from which cir-
cumstance it is evident that they are not regular in their migra-
tions, like many other species, but rove about, as scarcity of food
urges them. Every spring, however, as well as fall, more
less of them are seen in the neighborhood of Philadelphia; but
it is only once in several years that they appear in such formida-
ble bodies; and this commonly when the snows are heavy to the
north, the winter here more than usually mild, and acorns, etc. ,
abundant.
The passenger pigeon is sixteen inches long, and twenty-four
inches in extent; bill, black; nostril, covered by a high rounding
protuberance; eye, brilliant fiery orange; orbit, or space sur-
rounding it, purplish flesh-colored skin; head, upper part of the
neck, and chin, a fine slate-blue, lightest on the chin; throat,
breast, and sides, as far as the thighs, a reddish hazel; lower
part of the neck, and sides of the same, resplendent changeable
gold, green, and purplish crimson,- the latter most predominant;
the ground color slate; the plumage of this part is of a peculiar
structure, ragged at the ends; belly and vent, white; lower part
or


## p. 16030 (#376) ##########################################

16030
ALEXANDER WILSON
of the breast, fading into a pale vinaceous red; thighs, the same;
legs and feet, lake, seamed with white; back, rump, and tail
coverts, dark slate, spotted on the shoulders with a few scattered
marks of black; the scapulars, tinged with brown; greater cov-
erts, light slate; primaries and secondaries, dull black, the former
tipped and edged with brownish white; tail, long, and greatly
cuneiform, all the feathers tapering towards the point, the two
middle ones plain deep black, the other five on each side hoary
white, lightest near the tips, deepening into bluish near the
bases, where each is crossed on the inner vane with a broad
spot of black, and nearer the root with another of ferruginous;
primaries, edged with white; bastard wing, black.
The female is about half an inch shorter, and an inch less in
extent; breast, cinereous brown; upper part of the neck, inclining
to ash; the spot of changeable gold, green, and carmine, much
less, and not so brilliant; tail coverts, brownish slate; naked
orbits, slate-colored; in all other respects like the male in color,
but less vivid, and more tinged with brown; the eye not so brill-
iant an orange. In both, the tail has only twelve feathers.
THE FISH-HAWK, OR OSPREY
T**
He regular arrival of this noted bird at the vernal equinox,
when the busy season of fishing commences, adds peculiar
interest to its first appearance, and
procures it
many a
benediction from the fishermen. With the following lines, illus-
trative of these circumstances, I shall conclude its history:-
Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year,
Bends to our northern clime his bright career,
And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep
The finny shoals and myriads of the deep;
When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride,
And day and night the equal hours divide:
True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore,
The sailing osprey high is seen to soar,
With broad unmoving wing, and circling slow,
Marks each loose straggler in the deep below;
Sweeps down like lightning, plunges with a roar,
And bears his struggling victim to the shore.
.


## p. 16031 (#377) ##########################################

ALEXANDER WILSON
16031
The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy,
The well-known signals of his rough employ;
And as he bears his nets and oars along,
Thus hails the welcome season with a song:-
THE FISHERMAN'S HYMN
The osprey sails above the Sound,
The geese are gone, the gulls are flying;
The herring-shoals swarm thick around,
The nets are launched, the boats are plying.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Raise high the song, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep, -
«God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher ! »
Şhe brings us fish — she brings us spring,
Good times, fair weather, warmth and plenty;
Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling,
Sheep's-head and drum, and old-wives dainty.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep, —
«God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher ! »
»
She rears her young on yonder tree,
She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em;
Like us, for fish she sails the sea,
And plunging, shows us where to find 'em.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
While slow the bending net we sweep,-
“God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher! )


## p. 16032 (#378) ##########################################

16032
JOHN WILSON
(1785-1854)
OHN WILSON was one of those men whose attractive and
striking personality makes it difficult to disassociate them
from their work. Of marked individuality and leonine pres-
ence, he was a large figure in the social and intellectual circles of
Edinburgh, a power in the life as well as literature of his period.
His faults were those of a big-souled man, who gave himself prodi-
gally and covered too wide an area. As one of his editors, Mr. John
Skelton, remarks, he needed concentration. Had the tree been thor-
oughly pruned, the fruit would have been
larger and richer. » His merits, weighed
now in the more impartial scales of a
later day, are felt to be distinct. To ex-
press Christopher North in metaphor, one
would call him a literary "Jupiter tonans.
”
He possessed a sort of dynamic energy,
and breathed out a wholesome atmosphere,
as of the sea or hills. This influence was
noticeable whether in the intercourse of so-
ciety, the class-room lecture, or the breezy
deliverances of the Noctes Ambrosianæ
as they appeared in Blackwood. The sheer
John Wilson animal spirits of those famous papers would
alone carry them into favor; and they pos-
sess besides, abundance of wit and humor, of felicitous description
and keen characterization, of wisdom and poetry. They constitute a
solid monument to their writer, independent, in the main lines, of
much that is local and temporary in the construction.
John Wilson was the son of a rich manufacturer in Paisley,
Scotland, where John was born May 18th, 1785. He was educated at
the University of Glasgow, and at Oxford, winning the Newdigate
Prize for poetry there. His degree was secured in 1807. He bought
soon thereafter an estate on Lake Windermere in the Westmoreland
country, so rich in literary associations; and for some years was an
intimate of Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. It was in this



## p. 16033 (#379) ##########################################

JOHN WILSON
16033
environment that his poem “The Isle of Palms) was published, in
1812. He removed to Edinburgh in 1815, and was admitted to the
bar. The next year appeared the dramatic poem “The City of the
Plague. ' Blackwood's Magazine was founded in 1812, and Wilson
became at once a valued contributor. The fact that he was elected
in 1820 Professor of Morals at the university — defeating Sir William
Hamilton, who was also a candidate — testifies to the high rating of
him as man and scholar. From this throne Professor Wilson spoke
or used his pen for many years.
A number of tales and sketches are aside from what brought him
his more permanent reputation. Such are - Lights and Shadows of
Scottish Life' (1822), «The Trials of Margaret Lindsay' (1823), “The
Foresters) (1825), and the 'Essay on the Genius of Burns) (1841).
More characteristic and hence more lasting are the Noctes Ambro-
sianæ,' contributed to the magazine froin 1822 to 1835; the later series
(Dies Boreales, or Christopher Under Canvas) (1849-1852) not equal-
ing the earlier in spontaneity or charm. It is not hard to understand
the immediate popularity of the Noctes,' when at Ambrose's Edin-
burgh tavern, Mr. Tickler, the Ettrick Shepherd, Christopher North,
and other rare good spirits drank their toddy into the wee small
hours, and exchanged all manner of talk upon all manner of things.
The three main personages are limned with a clear eye and much
unction; and one of them at least, the Shepherd, is a true master-
piece in comedy creation. Wilson is open to the charge of being
diffuse, and occasionally coarse, in the conductment of these sprightly
dialogues; but these are but flies in the ointment.
In 1851 Professor Wilson resigned his seat in the university, and
died three years afterward, April 3d, 1854. Professor Ferrier, his son-
in-law, has edited his works in twelve volumes; and a Life) has
been written by his daughter, Mrs. Gordon. For purposes of conven-
ience, the general reader is directed to The Comedy of the Noctes
Ambrosianæ); an edition selected and arranged by Mr. John Skelton,
presenting the Noctes) in a much condensed form, whereby that
which is slighter, local, and least happy, is eliminated.
XXVII-1003


## p. 16034 (#380) ##########################################

16034
JOHN WILSON
IN WHICH THE SHEPHERD AND TICKLER TAKE TO THE
WATER
From Noctes Ambrosianæ)
Scene: Two Bathing-machines in the Sea at Portobello. Present : Shep-
herd, Tickler.
HEPHERD
S***
con-
Halloo, Mr. Tickler, are you no ready yet, man ?
I've been a mother-naked man, in my machine here, for
mair than ten minutes. Hae your pantaloons got entangled
amang your heels, or are you saying your prayers afore you
plunge ?
Tickler - Both. These patent long drawers, too, are a
founded nuisance — and this patent short undershirt. There is
no getting out of them without greater agility than is generally
possessed by a man at my time of life.
Shepherd — Confound a' pawtents. As for mysel, I never wear
drawers, but hae my breeks lined wi' flannen a' the year through;
and as for thae wee short corded undershirts, that clasp you
like ivy, I never hae had ane o' them on sin’ last July, when I
was forced to cut it aff my back and breast wi' a pair o'sheep-
shears, after havin' tried in vain to get out o't every morning
for twa months. But are ye no ready, sir ? A man
on the
scaffold wadna be allowed sae lang time for preparation. The
minister or the hangman wad be juggin' him to fling the hand-
kerchief.
Tickler — Hanging, I hold, is a mere flea-bite -
Shepherd — What! tae dookin'? — Here goes.
[The Shepherd plunges into the sea. ]
Tickler – What the devil has become of James ? He is no-
where to be seen. That is but a gull — that only a seal — and
that a mere pellock. James, James, James!
Shepherd [emerging]— Wha's that roarin'? Stop a wee till I
get the saut water out o' my een, and my mouth, and my nose,
and wring my hair a bit. Noo, where are you, Mr. Tickler ?
Tickler — I think I shall put on my clothes again, James. The
air is chill; and I see from your face that the water is as cold
as ice.
Shepherd - Oh, man! but you're a desperate cooart. Think
shame o' yoursel, stannin' naked there at the mouth o the


## p. 16035 (#381) ##########################################

JOHN WILSON
16035
machine, wi' the haill crew o'yon brig sailin' up the Firth
lookin' at ye, ane after anither, frae cyuck to captain, through
the telescope.
Tickler - James, on the sincerity of a shepherd and the faith
of a Christian, lay your hand on your heart, and tell me, was
not the shock tremendous ? I thought you never would have re-
appeared.
Shepherd — The shock was naethin', nae mair than what a
body feels when waukenin' suddenly durin' a sermon, or fa'in'
ower a staircase in a dream. But I am aff to Inchkeith.
Tickler - Whizz.
>
[Flings a somerset into the sea. ]
sax
seven
-
a
Shepherd — Ane twa three four - five -
aught- But there's nae need o' coontin', for nae pearl diver
in the Straits o' Madagascar, or aff the coast o' Coromandel, can
haud in his breath like Tickler. Weel, that's surprisin'. Yon
chaise has gane about half a mile o' gate towards Portybelly sin'
he gaed fizzin' out ower the lugs like a verra rocket. Safe us!
what's this gruppin' me by the legs ? A sherk—a sherk
sherk!
Tickler (yellowing to the surface] - Blabla — blabla — bla —
Shepherd — He's keept soomin'aneath the water till he's sick;
but every man for himsel', and God for us a'— I'm aff.
[Shepherd stretches away to sea in the direction of Inchkeith, Tickler in
pursuit. ]
Tickler -- Every sinew, my dear James, like so much whip-
cord. I swim like a salmon.
Shepherd-O sir! that Lord Byron had but been alive the
noo, what a sweepstakes!
Tickler - A Liverpool gentleman has undertaken, James, to
swim four-and-twenty miles at a stretch. What are the odds ?
Shepherd — Three to one on Saturn and Neptune. He'll get
numm.
Tickler -- James, I had no idea you were so rough on the
back. You are a perfect otter.
Shepherd — Nae personality, Mr. Tickler, out at sea.
I'll com-
pare carcases wi' you ony day o' the year. Yet you're a gran'
soomer — out o' the water at every stroke, neck, breast, shou-
thers, and half-way doun the back — after the fashion o' the great
- o


## p. 16036 (#382) ##########################################

16036
JOHN WILSON
American serpent. As for me, my style o' soomin's less showy
— laigh and lown — less hurry, but mair speed.
—
Come sir, l'11
dive you for a jug o' toddy.
[Tickler and Shepherd melt away like foam-bells in the sunshine. ]
Shepherd — Mr. Tickler!
Tickler – James!
Shepherd - It's a drawn bate - sae we'll baith pay. O sir!
isna Embro' a glorious city ? Sae clear the air! Yonner you see
a man and a woman stannin' on the tap o' Arthur's Seat! I had
nae notion there were sae mony steeples, and spires, and col-
umns, and pillars, and obelisks, and domes in Embro'! And at
this distance the ee canna distinguish atween them that belangs
to kirks, and them that belangs to naval monuments, and them
that belangs to ile-gas companies, and them that's only chimney-
heids in the auld toun, and the taps o' groves, or single trees, sic
as poplars; and aboon a' and ahint a', craigs and saft-broo'd hills
sprinkled wi' sheep, lichts and shadows, and the blue vapory glim-
mer o' a mid-summer day — het, het, het, wi' the barometer at
ninety: but here, to us twa, bob-bobbin' amang the fresh, cool,
murmurin', and faemy wee waves, temperate as the air within
the mermaid's palace. Anither dive!
Tickler — James, here goes the Fly-Wheel.
Shepherd - That beats a'!
He gangs round in the water like
a jack roastin' beef. I'm thinkin' he canna stop himsel. Safe us!
he's fun' out the perpetual motion.
Tickler — What fish, James, would you incline to be, if put into
-
scales ?
Shepherd — A dolphin — for they hae the speed o' lichtnin'.
They'll dart past and roun' about a ship in full sail before the
wind, just as if she was at anchor. Then the dolphin is a fish o'
peace — he saved the life o' a poet of auld, Arion, wi' his harp -
and oh! they say the cretur's beautifu' in death: Byron, ye ken,
comparin' his hues to those o' the sun settin' ahint the Grecian
Isles. I sud like to be a dolphin.
Tickler — I should choose to sport shark for a season. In
speed he is a match for the dolphin; and then, James, think what
luxury to swallow a well-fed chaplain, or a delicate midshipman,
or a young negro girl, occasionally -
Shepherd -- And feenally to be grupped wi' a hyuck in a
cocked hat and feather,- at which the shark rises as a trout


## p. 16037 (#383) ##########################################

JOHN WILSON
16037
-
does at a flee, - hauled on board, and hacked to pieces wi' cut-
lasses and pikes by the jolly crew, or left alive on the deck, gut-
ted as clean as a dice-box, and without an inch o’ bowels.
Tickler - Men die at shore, James, of natural deaths as bad as
that —
Shepherd — Let me see — I sud hae nae great objections to be
a whale in the Polar Seas. Gran' fun to fling a boatfu' o' har-
pooners into the air; or wi' ae thud o' your tail, to drive in the
stern-posts o' a Greenlandman.
Tickler — Grander fun still, James, to feel the inextricable
harpoon in your blubber, and to go snoving away beneath an
ice-floe with four mile of line connecting you with your distant
enemies.
Shepherd — But then whales marry but ae wife, and are pas-
sionately attached to their offspring. There, they and I are con-
genial speerits. Nae fish that swims enjoys so large a share of
domestic happiness.
Tickler - A whale, James, is not a fish.
Shepherd — Isna he? Let him alane for that. He's ca'd a fish
in the Bible, and that's better authority than Buffon. Oh that I
were a whale!
Tickler — What think you of a summer of the American sea-
serpent ?
Shepherd - What! To be constantly cruised upon by the haill
American navy, military and mercantile ? No to be able to show
your back aboon water without being libeled by the Yankees in
a' the newspapers, and pursued even by pleasure parties, playin'
the hurdy-gurdy and smokin' cigars! Besides, although I hae
nae objection to a certain degree o' singularity, I sudna just like
to be so very singular as the American sea-serpent, who is the
only ane o' his specie noo extant; and whether he dees in his
bed, or is slain by Jonathan, must incur the pain and the oppro-
brium o' defunckin' an auld bachelor. What's the matter wi' you,
Mr. Tickler?
[Dives. ]
Tickler — The calf of my right leg is rather harder than is
altogether pleasant, - a pretty business if it prove the cramp; and
the cramp it is, sure enough. -Hallo - James - James - James-
hallo — I'm seized with the cramp! — James— the sinews of the


## p. 16038 (#384) ##########################################

16038
JOHN WILSON
calf of my right leg are gathered up into a knot about the bulk
and consistency of a sledge-hammer -
Shepherd — Nae tricks upon travelers. You've nae cramp.
Gin you hae, streek out your richt hind leg, like a horse geein a
funk,- and then ower on the back o'ye, and keep floatin' for a
space, and your calf'll be as saft's a cushion. Lord safe us!
what's this? Deevil tak me if he's no droonin'. Mr. Tickler, are
you droonin'? There he's doun ance, and up again — twice, and
up again; but it's time to tak haud o' him by the hair o' the
head, or he'll be doun amang the limpets!
[Shepherd seizes Tickler by the locks. ]
-
Tickler - Oho - oho- oho — ho-ho-ho- hra - hra - hrach
- hrach.
Shepherd — What language is that? Finnish ? Noo, sir, dinna
rug me doun to the bottom alang wi’ you in the dead-thraws.
Tickler — Heaven reward you, James : the pain is gone — but
keep near me.
Shepherd — Whammle yoursel ower on your back, sir. That
’ill do. Hoo are you now, sir ? Yonner's the James Watt steam-
boat, Captain Bain, within half a league. Lean on my airm,
sir, till he comes alangside, and it 'll be a real happiness to the
captain to save your life. But what 'ill a' the leddies do whan
they're hoistin' us aboard ? They maun just use their fans.
Tickler — My dear Shepherd, I am again floating like a turtle,
but keep within hail, James. Are you to windward or lee-
ward ?
Shepherd – Right astarn. Did you ever see, sir, in a' your
born days, sic a sky ? Ane can scarcely say he sees 't, for
it's maist invisible in its blue beautifu' tenuity, as the waters o'
a well! It's just like the ee o' a lassie I kent lang ago: the
langer you gazed intil 't, the deep, deep, deeper it grew — the
cawmer and the mair cawm composed o' a smile, as an ame-
thyst is composed o' licht - and seeming something impalpable to
the touch, till you ventured, wi' fear, joy, and tremmlin', to kiss
it — just ae hesitatin', pantin', reverential kiss — and then, to be
sure, your verra sowl kent it to be a bonny blue ee, covered wi'
a lid o' dark fringes, and drappin' aiblins a bit frichtened tear to
the lip o' love.


## p. 16039 (#385) ##########################################

JOHN WILSON
16039
Tickler – What is your specific gravity, James ? You float
like a sedge.
Shepherd - Say rather a nautilus, or a mew. I'm native to
the yelement.
Tickler — Where learned you the natatory art, my dear Shep-
herd ?
Shepherd — Do you mean soomin'? In St. Mary's Loch. For
a haill simmer I kept plouterin' alang the shore, and pittin' ae
fit to the grun', knockin' the skin aff my knees, and makin' nae
progress, till ae day, the gravel haein' been loosened by a flood,
I plowpt in ower head and ears, and in my confusion turnin' my
face to the wrang airt, I swom across the loch at the widest at
ae stretch; and ever after that could hae soomed ony man in the
forest for a wager, except Mr. David Ballantyne, that noo leeves
ower-by yonner, near the Hermitage Castle.
Tickler - Now, James, you are, to use the language of Spenser,
the Shepherd of the Sea.
Shepherd - Oh that I had been a sailor! To hae circumnavi-
gated the warld! To hae pitched our tents, or built our bowers,
on the shores o' bays sae glitterin' wi' league-lang wreaths o'
shells, that the billows blushed crimson as they murmured! Το
hae seen our flags burnin' meteor-like, high up amang the pri-
meval woods, while birds bright as ony buntin' sat trimmin'
their plummage amang the cordage, sae tame in that island, where
ship had haply never touched afore, nor ever might touch again,-
lying in a latitude by itsel', and far out o' the breath o' the
tredd-wunds! Or to hae landed wi' a' the crew, marines and a',
excep' a guard on shipboard to keep aff the crowd o' canoes, on
some warlike isle, tossin' wi’ the plumes on chieftains' heads, and
soun’-soun’-soundin' wi' gongs! What's a man-o'-war's barge, Mr.
Tickler, beautifu' sicht though it be, to the hundred-oared canoe
o some savage island-king! The king himsel lying in state –
no dead, but leevin', every inch o' him — on a platform, aboon a'
his warriors standin' wi' war-clubs, and stane hatchets, and fish-
bane spears, and twisted mats, and tattooed faces, and ornaments
in their noses, and painted een, and feathers on their heads a
yard heigh, a' silent, or burstin' out o' a sudden intil shootin' sangs
o'welcome or defiance, in a language made up o' a few lang
strang words — maistly gutturals — and gran' for the naked priests
—
to yell intil the ears o' their victims, when about to cut their
throats on the altar-stane that idolatry had incrusted with blood,


## p. 16040 (#386) ##########################################

16040
JOHN WILSON
shed by stormy moonlicht to glut the maw of their sanguinary
god. Or say rather — oh, rather say that the white-winged Won-
der that has brought the strangers frae afar, frae lands beyond
the setting sun, has been hailed with hymns and dances o' peace
- and that a' the daughters o' the isle, wi' the daughter o' the
king at their head, come a' gracefully windin' alang in a figure
that, wi' a thousan' changes, is aye but ae single dance, wi' un-
sandaled feet true to their ain wild singin', wi' wings fancifully
fastened to their shouthers, and, beautifu' creturs! a' naked to the
waist — But where the Deevil's Mr. Tickler ? Has he sunk dur-
in' my soliloquy? or swum to shore? Mr. Tickler — Mr. Tickler!
-- I wush I had a pistol to fire into the air, that he might be
brought to. - Yonner he is, playin' at porpuss. Let me try if I
can reach him in twenty strokes; it's no aboon hunder yards.
Five yards a stroke no bad soomin' in dead water.