without interruption, for three hours, at the rate we havementioned, of one mile in a minute. This will give us a line onehundred and eighty miles long by one broad, and covering one hundredand eighty square miles. Now, allowing two pigeons to the squareyard, we have one billion, one hundred and fifteen million, onehundred and thirty-six thousand pigeons in one flock. As everypigeon consumes fully half a pint of food a day, the quantityrequired to feed such a flock for one day must be eight million,seven hundred and twelve thousand bushels.
As soon as these birds discover a sufficiency of food to entice themto alight, they fly round in circles, reviewing the country below,and, at this time, exhibit all the beauty of their plumage. Now theydisplay a large glistening sheet of bright azure, by exposing theirback to view. Suddenly turning, they exhibit a mass of rich, deeppurple.
Now they pass lower over the forest and are lost among the foliage,for a moment, but reappear as suddenly above. Now they alight, andthen, as if affrighted, the whole again take to wing with a roarequal to loud thunder, and wander swiftly through the forest as ifto see if danger is near.
Hunger, however, soon brings them all to the ground, and then theyare seen industriously throwing up the fallen leaves to seek forevery beech nut or acorn. The last ranks continually pass over andalight in front, in such quick succession that the whole still hasthe appearance of being on the wing. The quantity of ground thusharvested (moissonee) is astonishing, and so clean is the work thatno gleaners think it worth while to follow where the pigeons havebeen.
During the middle of the day, after the repast is finished, thewhole settle on the trees to enjoy rest, and digest the food; but,as the sun sinks, the army departs in a body for the roosting place,not unfrequently hundreds of miles off. This has been ascertained bypersons keeping account of the arrival at, and departure from thecurious roosting places, to which I must now conduct the reader.
To one of these general nightly rendezvous, not far from the banksof the Green River, in Kentucky, I paid repeated visits. The placechosen was in a portion of the forest where the trees were of greatheight with little under-wood. I rode over the ground lengthwiseupwards of forty miles, and crossed it in different parts,ascertaining its average width to be a little more than three miles.
My first view of this spot was about a fortnight after the birds hadchosen it. I arrived there nearly two hours before sunset. Fewpigeons were then to be seen, but a great number of persons withhorses and wagons, guns and ammunition, had already establisheddifferent camps on the borders.
Many trees two feet in diameter I observed were broken at no greatdistance from the ground, and the branches of many of the largestand tallest so much so that the desolation already exhibitedequalled that of a furious tornado. The sun was lost to our view,yet not a pigeon had arrived. All on a sudden, I heard a general cryof, “Here they come!”
The noise which they made, though distant, reminded me of a hardgale at sea passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. Asthe birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a current of air thatsurprised me. The stream of birds still kept increasing. Fires werelighted, and many people had torches, and a most magnificent, aswell as wonderful and terrifying sight was before me.
The pigeons, coming in by millions, alighted every where, one on thetop of another, until masses of them, resembling hanging swarms ofbees as large as hogsheads were formed on every tree. These heavyclusters were seen to give way as the supporting branches, breakingdown with a crash, came to the ground, killing hundreds of birdsbeneath, forcing down other equally large and heavy groups, andrendering the whole a scene of uproar and distressing confusion.
I found it quite useless to speak, or even to shout to those personsnearest me. Even the reports of the guns were seldom heard, and Iknew only of their going off by seeing their owners reload them. Itwas past midnight before I perceived a decrease in the numbersarriving.
The uproar continued, however, the whole night; and, as I wasanxious to know to what distance the sound reached, I sent off aman, who told me afterwards, that at three miles he heard the sounddistinctly. Towards the approach of day, the noise rather subsided;but long ere objects were at all distinguishable, the pigeons beganto move off in a direction quite different from that from which theyhad arrived the day before.
The place they choose for building their nests, is very unlike thescene of confusion the roosting place presents. There you see thetenderest affection. The birds find some forest where the trees arevery high and large, and at a convenient distance from the water. Tothis place myriads of pigeons fly. There, in harmony and love, theybuild their nests with parental care. Fifty or a hundred nests, madeof a few dried sticks, crossed in different ways, and supported bysuitable forks in the branches, may be seen on the same tree. Thetwo birds take turns to sit on the eggs; but the mother sits thelongest. The male feeds her from his bill with the greatesttenderness, takes care of her, and does every thing he can to pleaseher.
Now it is bed-time, so good night!”