422 | ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1911. 
masses as large as hogsheads, were formed on the branches all round. 
Here and there the perches gave way under the weight with a-crash, 
and falling to the ground, destroyed hundreds of the birds beneath, 
forcing down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded. 
It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it quite useless to 
speak, or even to shout to those persons who were nearest to me. 
f£ven the reports of the guns were seldom heard, and I was made 
aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters reloading. 
No one dared venture within the line of devastation. The hogs 
had been penned up in due time, the picking up of the dead and 
wounded being left for the next morning’s employment. The pigeons 
were constantly coming, and it was past midnight before I perceived 
a decrease in the number of those that arrived. The uproar con- 
tinued the whole night, and as I was anxious to know to what distance 
the sound reached, I sent off a man accustomed to perambulate the 
forest, who, returning two hours afterwards, informed me he had 
heard it distinctly when 3 miles from the spot. Toward the approach 
of day, the noise in some measure subsided; long before objects were 
distinguishable, the pigeons began to move off in a direction quite 
different from that in which they had arrived the evening before, and 
at sunrise all that were able to fly had disappeared. The howlings of 
the wolves now reached our ears, and the foxes, lynxes, cougars, 
bears, raccoons, opossums and polecats were seen sneaking off, whilst 
eagles and hawks of different species, accompanied by a crowd of 
vultures, came tosupplant them, and enjoy their share of the spoil. 
It was then that the authors of all this devastation began their 
entry amongst the dead, the dying, and the mangled. The pigeons 
were picked up and piled in heaps, until each had as many as he could 
possibly dispose of, when the hogs were let loose to feed on the re- 
mainder. ; 
Persons unacquainted with these birds might naturally conclude 
that such dreadful havoc would soon put an end to the species. 
But I have satisfied myself, by long observation, that nothing but the 
gradual diminution of our forests can accomplish their decrease, as 
they not unfrequently quadruple their numbers yearly, and always 
at least double it. In 1805 I saw schooners loaded in bulk with pi- 
geons caught up the Hudson River, coming into the wharf at New York, 
when the birds sold fora cent apiece. I knew a man in Pennsylvania 
who caught and killed upward of 500 dozens in a clapnet in one day, 
sweeping sometimes 20 dozens or more at a single haul. In the 
month of March, 1830, they were so abundant in the markets of New 
York, that piles of them met the eye in every direction. I[ have seen 
the negroes at the United States salines, or salt works of Shawneetown, 
wearied with killing pigeons, as they alighted to drink the water 
issuing from the leading pipes, for weeks at a time; and yet, in 1826, 
