154 WiDMANN, ^ Visit to Audubon'' s Birthplace. \ h^\ 



bird life, a noise is heard over our heads, and looking up we are 

 just in time to see a troop of Pine Siskins {Spinus pinus) falling 

 into a leafing sweet gum {Liquidatnbar styraciflua) . They came 

 in this tree to rest, but only long enough to see a second troop 

 arrive to take their place. Soon all are off, and we follow 

 their example. A Hermit Thrush, silent and solitary, flies up 

 from the ground and hides behind a tree nearby. Following the 

 road through timber we are struck with its painful silence and 

 are glad to have it broken by the Fish Crows from the lake shore 

 not far off. 



Soon we come to another, larger bayou, crossed by a bridge, on 

 which we stop to admire the exquisite scenery. A picturesque 

 cypress, draped with streaming moss {Tillatidsia usneoides) and 

 its free upper tranches softly clothed with newly produced green. 

 This stately cypress in the center is flanked with tupelos of only 

 half its height and smothering under a heavy burden of moss. 

 Upon this hoary background stand in bold relief a few red maples 

 {Acer rubrum drujnmondi) filled with brilliant crimson fruit and 

 supported by a base of different shades of green, willows mixed 

 with scarlet-berried hollies, almost to the waters' edge, an inky, 

 green-black, sluggish water, fifty feet in width. In the overflow, 

 on oozy ground, a troop of Rusty Blackbirds searches after food 

 and others are concerting in the tree-tops ; the males are uniformly 

 black, the females gray, nothing rusty can be seen about them. 

 A few young Red-winged Blackbirds, males and females, are 

 among them. 



At last we reach the gate of Fontainbleau and behold a vast 

 extent of barren land ; weeds and vines, mingled in places with 

 sprouts from stumps, and scattering trees ; herds of horses and 

 cattle, and in a distance of almost a mile a few low, uninteresting 

 buildings. The transformation of a first-rate sugar plantation into 

 a third-rate stock farm has left no trace of its former splendor. 



The foundation of the mansion, in which Audubon first saw the 

 light of day, is still there, but the walls have crumbled into a heap 

 of bricks, which fill the cellar. The whole is overgrown with rank 

 vegetation, crowned by trees rooted in the ruin. 



From the large sugarhouse, which has two chimneys and some of 

 the walls still standing, a broad avenue leads straight down to the 



