206 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
March 14, t903-l 
lighted. The horse pistol was hunted for, as it had 
recoiled with such force I had lost hold of it. The 
gun being found, we then approached as nearly as we 
could the place where I had shot at the stack. From 
this discharge we picked up eighteen pigeons and saw 
some hobbling away into thick brush, from which we 
could not recover them. After an hour of this kind 
of hunting our bag was full of pigeons, and our tallow 
candle in the lantern nearly consumed. We retraced 
our steps out of the swamp, and about 11 o'clock at 
night arrived home well satisfied with the night's hunt 
in the pigeon roost. We had had acres of enjoyment 
and had brought home bushels of pigeons. 
This is only to give an idea of what pigeons were in 
northern Ohio in the days of my boyhood. This was 
in the years of '44 to '46. In '54, having grown to 
man's estate, I moved to Michigan and settled in Cass 
County, where I built a log house and began clearing 
up a farm. After having cleared tliree or four fields 
around my house, one morning one of my girls came 
running in from out of doors and .said: "Pa, come 
out and see the pigeons." I went to the door and 
saw scooting across my fields, as it seemed skimming 
the surface of the earth, Hock after Hock of the birds, 
one coming close upon the heels of another. I hastened 
into the liouse and grasped my double barreled shot- 
gun, powder Hask and shot pouch; my little girl, then 
a miss of tv/elve summers, following me. I took a 
stand on a slight rise in tbe middle of a five-acre field 
and commenced shooting, you might say, at wads 
of pigeons, so closely huddled were they as they 
went by. Letting the birds get opposite mfe and firing 
across the flock, 1 was enabled to kill from three to 
fifteen pigeons at a shot. And my girl was perfectly 
wild picking up the dead birds and catching the winged 
ones and bringing them to me. You never saw two 
mortals more busy than we were for a half hour. At 
this time my wife called for breakfast, as we were near 
the house, and I found my stock of ammunition nearly 
exhausted. We went into the house for our breakfast 
and wlien we came out the birds were Hying as thickly 
as ever. She says, let us count the pigeons and see 
how many v.'e have. We found we had killed and 
picked up in this short time twenty-three dozen. My 
wife said I had better take them to Three Rivers, 
which was our nearest town, and sell them. And as 
my ammunition was about exhausted, I hitched up my 
team, took twenty dozen of the birds and drove ten 
miles to the station, sold my birds for sixty-five cents 
a dozen and returned home well satisfied with my 
day's work, and having on hand a good supply of am- 
munition for the next morning's flight. • 
Now I wish to pass along, the lapse of time being 
about sixteen years. During this time I had removed 
from Cass County to Van Buren County, where I had 
located in the beautiful village of Hartford. In the 
year 1869 or '70, the pigeoners, a class of men who 
lived in Hartford, made a business of netting pigeons, 
and they are living: here yet, and not one of them 
feels any pride in the part he took in the destruction 
of these beautiful birds. In March, 1869, word was 
received that a large flight of pigeons were coming 
north through the State of Indiana. These men, who 
had followed the pigeons for years, said, "As we have 
snow on the ground they will be sure to nest near 
here, and as we have had a big crop of beechnuts and 
acorns last fall they will be sure to stop to get the 
benefit of this mast." A queer thing about the pigeon 
was that he always built his nest on the borders of the 
snow, that is, where the ground underneath was cov- 
ered with snow. 
Sure enough, as predicted, in two days after receiving 
notice of the flight of the birds from Indiana, myriads 
of pigeons were passing north along the east shore 
of Lake Michigan, and soon scattering flocks were 
seen going south toward the bare ground. In a few 
days word was received that pigeons had gone to nest- 
ing in what was then called Deerfield Township, a vast 
body of hardwood and hemlock timber. Then it was 
that the pigeon killers, with their nets, stoolbirds and 
flyers commenced making preparations for the slaugh- 
ter of the beautiful birds when they commenced laying 
their eggs. This takes place . only three or four days 
after they commence nesting, as a pigeon's nest is the 
simplest nest ever seen in a tree built by a bird. It con- 
sists of a few little twigs laid crosswise without moss 
or lining of any kind, and the lay of eggs i.s but one. 
As soon as one egg is laid, they commence sitting, and 
the male pigeon is quite a gentleman in his way, taking 
his turn and sitting one-half of the time. 
In about twelve or fourteen days — some claim twenty 
— the young pigeon is hatched. As soon as hatched 
the male and female birds commence feeding on what 
is known as marsh feed, that is, on low, springy ground. 
And from this feed is supplied to both the male and 
female bird what is known as pigeon's mi-lk, forming 
inside of the crop a sort of curd, on which the young 
pigeon is fed by both father and mother, who supply 
alike this food. The young bird is gorged with this 
food, and in a few days becomes as heavy as the parent 
bird. Another singular thing about the wild pigeon 
is that as the snow melts and the ground is left bare 
where the nesting is, the old birds never eat the nuts 
in the nesting, but leave them for the benefit of the 
young ones, and so when he comes off the nest he al- 
ways finds an abundance of food at his very door, as 
it were. As soon as the yoimg birds are able to leave 
the nest and commence feeding on the ground in the 
nesting, the old birds immediately forsake them, move 
again on to the borders of the snow, and start another 
nesting. In five or ten days the young birds will fol- 
low in the direction of the old birds. 
When the young birds first come off the nest and 
commence feeding on the ground, they are fat as 
bails of butter, but in ten days from this time, when 
they start on their northern flight to follow their 
mother bird, they are poor as snakes, and almost unfit 
to eat, while, when they first leave the nest, they are 
the most palatable morsel man ever tasted. However, 
in about forty days from the time they began nesting to 
the time they took their northern flight, there was 
shipped from Hartford and vicinity, three carloads a 
day of these beautiful meteors of the sky. Each car 
contained 150 barrels with 35 dozen in a barrel, mak- 
ing the daily shipment 24,750 dozen. 
Young men, who are now hunting for something to 
shoot and wondering what has become of our game, as 
you_ realize these figures, and hear men inquire: "What 
has become of the pigeons?" point to western Michi- 
gan and say: 'Tn three years' time there were caught 
and shipped to New York and other Eastern cities 
990,000 dozen in One year, and in the two succeeding 
years from Shelby it was estimated by the same men 
who caught the pigeons at Hartford, there were one- 
third more shipped from there than from Hartford; and 
from Petoskey, Emmet County, two years later, it is 
now claimed by C. H. Engle, a resident of this town, 
who was a participant in this ungodly slaughter, that 
there was shipped five carloads a day for thirty days 
at an average of 8,250 dozen to the carload. Now, 
when anyone asks you what has become of the wild 
pigeons, refer them to C. II. Engle, Stephen Stowe, 
Chas. Sherburne and Hiram Corwin, and a man. by the 
name of Miles from Wisconsin, Mr. Miles having 
caught 500 dozen in a single day. And I say, when 
you are asked what has become of the wild pigeons, 
point them to Hartford, to Shelby, to Petoskey; figure 
up the shipping bills, and that will show them what 
has become of this the grandest game bird that ever 
cleft the air of any continent. 
My young friends, 1 watit to humbly ask your for- 
giveness for having taken a small part in the destruc- 
tion of this the most exciting of sport. And there is 
not one of us but is ashamed of the slaughter brought 
about by our efforts and of robbing you of enjoyment. 
If wc had been restrained by laws of humanity, you, 
too, could have enjoyed this sport for years to come. 
This, in our estimation, explains what has become of 
the passenger pigeon. Sullivan Cook. 
Hartfowd, Mich; 
Our Wood Inhabiters in Winter —III. 
The "Woodpeckers and Nuthatches. 
As WE pass through the stretch of young growth and 
penetrate still further into the forest, we find that the 
birds have become more scarce, the notes of the chicka- 
dees alone breaking the stillness of these grand old woods. 
Bird life in winter seems to abound most in the outskirts 
of the forest, perhaps because the slanting rays of the 
sun temper the chilliness of the air in such places or they 
are sheltered from the breezes which often are severely 
cold, or possibly a supply of food is more easily gleaned 
tliere than in the heavier growth. 
Amid the larger trees, however, we may almost always 
expect to find an occasional downy woodpecker and with 
it, chiefly for company's sake, and traveling with it, but 
not in what might be called a close comradeship, now and 
then will be seen that industrious little bird, the white- 
bellied nuthatch. 
Up and down the trunk and along the larger limbs they 
keep up their incessant search for the larvae and eggs of 
insects, the woodpecker occasionally uttering its shrill 
little note as its bill plays a rolling rat-a-tat-tat upon a 
dead limb, and the nuthatch replying to it with its peculiar 
cha-cha-cha-cha, as it climbs about the tree, tapping the 
bark now and then in imitation of the woodpecker. 
Brave, hardy little feathered pigmies are they to linger 
among our snow-clad woods in such inclement weather 
as they have to bear, when by following the example set 
by their summer neighbors they could, in a very few 
hours, reach a more genial clime and a more congenial 
environment. 
The white-bellied nuthatch is a common species in New 
England, residing there the entire year, and in the Middle 
States as far south as the lower mountainous districts of 
Pennsylvania, it is more or less abundant ; in fact, it 
seems to be pretty generally distributed throughout the 
eastern United States and the British Provinces. 
It is a bird of very great activity, seemingly reluctant 
to lose a moment of its time during the day. Around the 
tree it winds its way, sometimes hanging suspended be- 
neath a horizontal limb where, perhaps, a grub is hidden 
among the bark and lichens. It seems almost always to 
prefer the solitude of the forests to the vicinity of human 
habitations, and if, by chance, it is occasionally seen in an 
orchard, it is only by accident that it has found its way 
there, and this even in the most rigorous winters. 
Like the chickadee, the nuthatch seems devoted to its 
mate the whole year through, and when isolated indi- 
viduals are seen, they are either unmated or they have by 
some accident lost their chosen partners. 
All who have paid attention to the habits of our birds 
have probably noticed that the chickadee almost always 
travel by pairs, although there may be a dozen members 
in their scattered little flock. The nuthatch imitates them 
in this particular very closely. 
Its name, like that of its European congeners, is derived 
from its habit of storing acorns and other nuts in crevices 
in trees and between the bark and the woody layer, and 
sometimes these are so securely wedged in, a constant 
and prolonged hammering by the bird is required to break 
the shell and obtain the meat within, which, although the 
bird is chiefly insectivorous in its habits, proves, to- 
gether with various dried fruits and seeds, not unwelcome 
additions to its menu. The nest of this species, which is 
composed of soft grasses, hairs, fine rootlets and a few 
feathers, is arranged compactly in the bottom of a hole 
which has been excavated by the birds in a dead stump 
of a tree, the hole being carried down to a depth of 
eight or nine inches. The eggs are of a beautiful roseate 
white color, and are covered more or less thickly with 
fine spots and dashes of reddish and light brown. In the 
Canadian forests, where it is fairly abundant, it seems 
to fraternize with the red-bellied nuthatch in the summer, 
just as it does with the titmice and creepers in our lati- 
tude in winter; the call notes of both these species are 
among the sounds first heard by the traveler or sports- 
man in the early morning. I have sometimes heard the 
notes in the middle of the night as I lay in my tent or 
was, perchance, traveling across a forest lake, and fre- 
quently they seemed to be high up in the air, as if the 
birds were moving from one point to another. The 
sounds of the night in a northern forest are often made 
melodious by the love songs of various birds, the white- 
throated sparrow, hennit thrush and various warblers 
often ascending into the air and pouring out an entranc- 
ing serenade to their prospective or already acquired 
partners. 
As for the little downy woodpecker, the smallest of all 
our Picidse, I doubt if the nuthatch, even, displays a 
greater diligence throughout the hours of the day in 
which it performs its labor. We see it as it mounts upon 
the insect-infected limb of a tree and patiently hammers 
and probes the bark and wood, sometimes for a half hour 
at a stretch, before the destructive hordes are dislodged 
and destroyed. As Alexander Wilson, the ornithologist, 
truly says : "When the bird is thus engaged you may 
walk up pretty close to the tree, and even stand imme- 
diately below it, within five or six feet of the bird, with- 
out in the least embarrassing it. The strokes of his bill 
are distinctly heard several yards off, and I have known 
him to be at work for two hours together on the same 
tree. Buffon calls this 'incessant toil and slavery;' their 
attitude 'a painful posture,' and their life 'a dull and in- 
sipid existence,' expressions improper because untrue, and 
absurd because contradictory. The posture is that for 
which the whole organization is particularly adapted; and 
though to a wren or a humming bird the labor would be 
both toil and slavery, yet to him it is, I am convinced, as 
pleasant and as amusing as the sports of the chase to the 
hunter or the sucking of flowers to the hummingbird." 
The Butcher Bird. 
Both the downy woodpecker and the nuthatch, as well 
as the chickadee and the junco or blue snow bird, often 
fall victims to the rapacity of the butcher bird or great 
northern shrike, which we are likely to meet at any 
moment in our winter day's ramble. 
Perched on a telegraph pole or the limb of a tree, we 
see the gray and black and white plumaged marauder 
waiting patiently for the appearance of some of the 
smaller birds ; and when they do approach within a safe 
striking distance he launches himself down upon them, 
after the manner of the small sparrow hawk, and rarely 
does he miss his aim. 
Baynes, in an interesting sketch of the habits of this 
shrike, states that he is said to be very fond of English 
sparrows, and these birds are certainly much discon- 
certed whenever he puts in an appearance. "In flying he 
may be recognized by a characteristic habit. He does not 
fly straight to the point on which he intends to alight, 
but in a horizontal line considerably below it. At the last 
moment, however, he makes a sudden upward turn and 
reaches his point of destination." 
While the butcher bird is not abundant anywhere, it 
is much more plentiful than it is generally supposed to be. 
It is a resident species in the Canadian fauna, and a win- 
ter visitor in New England and the Middle States. 
It is quite probable that it breeds in the higher moun- 
tain ranges of Pennsylvania — increase of altitude having 
the same influence on bird life as increase of latitude — in 
fact, Dr. Coues quotes Mr. Trumbull's statement that 
"many of these birds nestle on the mountain ridges of the 
Alleghanies," and Gentry mentions it as arriving in Phila- 
delphia during the latter part of October and remaining 
there until the last of March. If he is not in error in 
this statement, the bird must have descended from its 
mountain home rather than have come from the north, 
for the reason that it does not appear in middle New 
England before the cold weather fairly sets in. 
That the shrike imitates the notes of other birds as a 
means of decoying them within his reach seems to be the 
opinion of several writers on ornithology, but I am in- 
clined to believe that if it possesses the power of mimicry 
it exercises it very sparingly. I have had fairly good op- 
portunities for studying its habits both in the wild state 
and in captivity, and never have heard it gi^'e utterance 
to what might be termed a song. When disturbed in his 
watch for feathered victims, he utters a harsh, querulous 
shriek, and flies away, sometimes to a considerable dis- 
tance before he alights again on a tree top or other point 
of observation. 
Nuttall ascribes to it the gift of song; he states that he 
heard it as late as November 10 uttering a low, soft war- 
ble which resembled at first that of the song sparrow, and 
which was changed to the notes of the catbird or gray 
mockingbird. 
The general character of the bird is not one to im- 
press us with the idea that it is a songster, for its traits 
are those of a destroyer of lives simply for the purpose of 
killing, and its mission seems to be well set forth by its 
actions. Possibly in its nuptial days it gives utterance 
to some kind of melody, but while it is with us the ex- 
uberance which calls forth such song is entirely subdued. 
Gentry, in treating of this, says: "The season of cold 
being considerably advanced on its arrival, and everything 
bearing the impress of winter, and its retirement in 
spring; being unusually early, it is obvious that its sur- 
roundings are of such a character as not to awaken joy- 
ous impressions. Besides, the males and females lead 
solitary lives during their stay, and depart as they come, 
alone; and there is wanting besides that ardor of feeling 
between the sexes which exhibits itself , in the power of 
song." 
With most species song is assumed about the mating 
period by the males, in order to attract the females on 
their arrival, or to captivate them by the power of its 
charms. Darwin, in speculating upon this subject, views 
it in this light. Although song is mainly designed upon 
the part of the male "to influence the female in the mat- 
ter of choice, it is plain that it is often indulged in as a 
thing of enjoyment." Primitively, however, it is awakened 
by amatory influences. 
That the butcher bird often visits the parks of cities 
in winter is a well established fact, a number of instances 
having been recorded of its preying upon the European 
sparrows which are so abundant in those localities. 
"One winter," says Merriam, "it was no uncommon 
thing to see a shrike flying across the street in New 
Haven, Conn., with a sparrow in its talons. The poor 
sparrows, unused to danger of any sort, were utterly help- 
less, and at one time it seemed as if we were actually go- 
ing to be rid of the little pests." 
I have seen individuals of this species perched on the 
elms of Boston Common, where they had come undoubt- 
edly in pursuit of the sparrows ; in Central Park in New 
York they have also been observed, and in Fairmount 
Park, Philadelphia, they have been seen to capture the 
sparrows, which are exceedingly numerous there. In its 
raids upon the small birds the shrike singles out an iti- 
