THE KEY WEST PIGEON, OR DOVE. 15 



brave tars who were taking us to the shore. In this place I formed acquaint- 

 ance with Major Geassel of the United States Artillery, and his family, of 

 Dr. Benjamin Strobel, and several other persons, to whom I must ever 

 feel grateful for the kind attention which they paid to me and my assistants, 

 as well as for the alacrity with which they aided me in procuring rare 

 specimens not only of birds, but also of shells and plants, most of which 

 were unknown to me. Indeed — I cannot too often repeat it — the facilities 

 afforded me by our Government, during my latter journeys and voyages, 

 have been so grateful to my feelings, that I have frequently thought that 

 circumstance alone quite sufficient to induce even a less ardent lover of 

 nature to exert himself to the utmost in repaying the favour. 



Major Glassel sent one of his Serjeants with me to search the whole 

 island, with which he was perfectly acquainted. The name of this soldier 

 was Stkes, and his life, like mine, had been a chequered one; for there are 

 few pleasures unaccompanied with pains, real or imaginary, and the worthy 

 serjeant had had his share of both. I soon discovered that he was a perfect 

 woodsman, for although we traversed the densest thickets, in close and 

 gloomy weather, he conducted me quite across the island, in as masterly a 

 manner as ever did an Indian on a like occasion. — But perhaps, kind reader, 

 a copy of my journal for that day, may afford you a clearer idea of our 

 search for rare birds, than any other means that I could devise. Before I 

 proceed, however, allow me to state, that, while at Charleston, in South 

 Carolina, I saw at my friend Bachman's house the head of a Pigeon which 

 Dr. Strobel had sent from Key West, and which I perceived did not 

 belong to the Zenaida Dove. Serjeant Sykes had seen the Pigeon, and 

 acquainted as he was with the birds of the country, he gave some hope that 

 we might procure a few of them that very day; — and now, for my Journal. 



"May 6, 1S32. — When I reached the garrison, I found the sergeant 

 waiting for me. I gave him some small shot, and we set off, not in full run, 

 nor even at a dog-trot, but with the slowness and carefulness usually 

 employed by a lynx or a cougar when searching for prey. We soon reached 

 the thickets, and found it necessary to move in truth very slowly, one foot 

 warily advanced before the other, one hand engaged in opening a passage, 

 and presently after occupied in securing the cap on the head, in smashing- 

 some dozens of hungry musquitoes, or in drawing the sharp thorn of a 

 cactus from a leg or foot, in securing our gun-locks, or in assisting ourselves 

 to rise after a fall. But we pushed on, squeezed ourselves between the 

 stubborn branches, and forced our way as well as we could, my guide of 

 course having the lead. Suddenly I saw him stoop, and observing the 

 motion of his hand, immediately followed his example. Reduced by his 

 position to one half of his natural height, he moved more briskly, inclined 



