WILD PIGEON 111 



A cuckoo chuckles, half throttled, on a neighboring 

 tree, and now, flying into the pine, scares out a pigeon, 

 which flies with its handsome tail spread, dashes this 

 side and that between the trees helplessly, like a ship 

 carrying too much sail in midst of a small creek, some 

 great ammiral having no room to manoeuvre, — a flut- 

 tering flight. 



Sept. 12, 1851. Saw a pigeon-place on Greorge Hey- 

 wood's cleared lot, — the six dead trees set up for the 

 pigeons to alight on, and the brush house close by to 

 conceal the man. I was rather startled to find such a 

 thing going now in Concord. The pigeons on the trees 

 looked like fabulous birds with their long tails and their 

 pointed breasts. I could hardly believe they were alive 

 and not some wooden birds used for decoys, they sat so 

 still ; and, even when they moved their necks, I thought 

 it was the effect of art. As they were not catching then, 

 I approached and scared away a dozen birds who were 

 perched on the trees, and found that they were freshly 

 baited there, though the net was carried away, per- 

 chance to some other bed. The smooth sandy bed was 

 covered with buckwheat, wheat or rye, and acorns. 

 Sometimes they use corn, shaved off the ear in its pre- 

 sent state with a knife. There were left the sticks with 

 which they fastened the nets. As I stood there, I heard 

 a rushing sound and, looking up, saw a flock of thirty 

 or forty pigeons dashing toward the trees, who suddenly 

 whirled on seeing me and circled round and made a new 

 dash toward the bed, as if they would fain alight if I 

 had not been there, then steered off. I crawled into the 

 bough house and lay awhile looking through the leaves, 



