86 The Passenger Pigeon 



rush of wings of the gathered millions was like the roar 

 of thunder and perfectly indescribable. An hour's 

 walk brought us to a ravine which we cautiously 

 approached. 



Directed by the commotion in the air, we soon dis- 

 covered the bough house and net of the trapper. Evi- 

 dence being what we sought, we stood concealed behind 

 some bushes to await the spring of the trap. The 

 black muck bed soon became blue and purple with 

 pigeons lured by the salt and sulphur, when suddenly 

 the net was sprung over with a "whiz," retaining hun- 

 dreds of birds beneath it, while those outside its limits 

 flew to adjacent trees. We now descended from the 

 brink of the hill to the net, and there beheld a sickening 

 sight not soon forgotten. 



On one side of the bed of a little creek was spread 

 the net, a double one, covering an area when thrown, 

 of about ten by twenty feet. Through its meshes were 

 stretched the heads of the fluttering captives vainly 

 struggling to escape. In the midst of them stood a 

 stalwart pigeoner up to his knees in the mire and 

 bespattered with mud and blood from head to foot. 

 Passing from bird to bird, with a pair of blacksmith's 

 pincers, he gave the neck of each a cruel grip with his 

 remorseless weapon, causing the blood to burst from 

 the eyes and trickle down the beak of the helpless cap- 

 tive, which slowly fluttered its life away, its beautiful 

 plumage besmeared with filth and its bed dyed with its 



