88 The Passenger Pigeon 



they sat in rows on the trees or passed in clouds over- 

 head. Before we arrived, a party of four men shot 

 826 birds In one day and then only stopping from sheer 

 fatigue. Other parties continued the fusillade until the 

 guns became so foul they could not be used, and would 

 return to the village with a wagon-box full of birds. 

 Scores of dead pigeons were left on the grounds to 

 decay, and the woods were full of wounded ones. H. 

 Frayer, a justice of the peace, informed us that a few 

 days previously he had picked up fifteen maimed birds, 

 his neighbor, a Mr. Green, twenty, and a Mr. Cross- 

 man, thirty-six, all in one day, after a shooting party 

 had passed through. 



The news of the formation of the nesting was not 

 long in reaching the various Indian settlements near 

 Petoskey, and the aborigines came in tens and fifties and 

 in hordes. Some were armed with guns, but the 

 majority were provided with powerful bows, and arrows 

 with round, flat heads two or three inches in diameter. 

 With these they shot under or into the nests, knocked 

 out the squabs to the ground, and raked the old birds 

 which loaded the branches. For miles the roads leading 

 to the nesting were swarming with Indians, big and lit- 

 tle, old and young, squaws, pappooses, bucks and young 

 braves, on ponies, in carts and on foot. Each family 

 brought its kit of cooking utensils, axes, a stock of provi- 

 sions, tubs, barrels and firkins to pack the birds in, and 

 came intending to carry on the business until the nesting 



