84 The Passenger Pigeon 



the woods, in the direction of the bird sounds which 

 came to our ears. Three of the party left the wagon 

 and followed it; the twittering grew louder and louder, 

 the birds more numerous, and in a few minutes we were 

 in the midst of that marvel of the forest and Nature's 

 wonderland — the pigeon nesting. 



We stood and gazed in bewilderment upon the scene 

 around and above us. Was it indeed a fairyland we 

 stood upon, or did our eyes deceive us. On every hand, 

 the eye would meet these graceful creatures of the for- 

 est, which, in their delicate robes of blue, purple and 

 brown, darted hither and thither with the quickness of 

 thought. Every bough was bending under their weight, 

 so tame one could almost touch them, while in every 

 direction, crossing and recrossing, the flying birds drew 

 a network before the dizzy eyes of the beholder, until 

 he fain would close his eyes to shut out the bewildering 

 scene. 



This portion of the nesting was the first formed, and 

 the young birds were just ready to leave the nests. 

 Scarcely a tree could be seen but contained from five 

 to fifty nests, according to its size and branches. 

 Directed by the noise of chopping and falling trees, 

 we followed on, and soon came upon the scene of 

 action. 



Here was a large force of Indians and boys at work, 

 slashing down the timber and seizing the young birds 

 as they fluttered from the nest. As soon as caught, the 



