The romance of forest and prairie life : narratives of perilous adventures & wild hunting scenes ..

CHAPTER I. AUDUBON — THE HUNTER- NATUllALIST

The author’s early ideas of Audubon and his labours — Enthusiasm for similar pursuits — First meeting1 with Audubon — His appearance, character, and history — His great works — Alexander Wilson and Audubon— Their respective positions as naturalists i >! —Audubon and “ Christopher North.” .....

Chapter II. Audubon And Boone

Audubon’s advice to young naturalists— Haw to attain accuracy in delineation — Pains Audubon took to this end— His trip to Labrador— To the St. John’s River — A storm in the woods — Florida “Keys” — Good sport— A hurricane among the. “Keys” — The Mule “Keys” — Wrecks and Wreckers — The Ohio, and a storm on its banks — An earthquake — Perilous situation — Daniel Boone, his origin, character, and career — First meeting of Audubon and Boone— Rifle shooting in Kentucky— Incidents in the life of Boone — The Bird of Washington — A Hunter’s dreams ...........

Chapter III. The Grave Op The Silent Hunter

The wilds of Kentucky — Hunting in the snow— Backwoodsmen— Bear-hunting — Backwood superstitions — The grave of the silent hunter — Studying Phrenology in the wilderness — The “bumps” of a hunter 121

CONTENTS.

Chapter IV. The Silent Hunter

Early days of William Smith— A hard Master— Love and Learning rA"E — An Escape— Wanderings and Privations— A real Friend — Retribution— Studies Law — Success as a Pleader — Marriage- Progress in Life— Patriotism, and consequent losses — “ Westward, ho” — An Indian Massacre — Vengeance . . . .142

CHAPTER V. JAMES HARROD, OF HARltODSBUltG

W hat makes a hero - James Harrod — His character and career — Incidents of Indian Warfare— The Red Man outwitted by the White— Harrod’ s generosity to vanquished foes, and kindness to friends— New Settlers, and their difficulties .... lb]

Chapter VI. A Bear Hunt

Texan Rangers on an expedition— Equipment and arms— Mexican horse-stealers — The San Saba Hills — A dash at the bears — Perils of the chase — Left alone — Cutting up the spoils — An ugly visitor — Getting out of the “ fix ”— A reunion — and return 178

Chapter VII. Hunting Peccaries In Texas — A Bear-hunt Interrupted By Peccaries

Characteristics of American Wild Animals— Their alleged want of courage— True explanation of the matter — Influence of fire-arms—The Peeoary, its appearance, habits, and characteristics— An Adventure with Peccaries — A bear-hunt — A fix in a cane-brake— Attack by the Peccaries, and retreat of the hunters 208

CONTENTS.

Chapter VIII, The Buffalo

Characteristics of the Buffalo— Position of its Eye, and results of rAGE this— Formidable Character of the Animal— Hunting- the Buffalo; its Perils and Pleasures 222

CHAPTER IX. THE DAltKIE FIDDLER AND THE WOLVES

Characteristics of the Wolf— Its prevalence in South Kentucky—

Dick, the Darkie Fiddler — His punctiliousness — Going to a Wedding— Disagreeable Companions — Music’s charms — Fiddling away the Wolves 232

THE ROMANCE

OF

FOREST AND PRAIRIE LIFE.

Chapter I. Audubon— The Hunter-naturalist

The author’s early ideas of Audubon and his labours— Enthusiasm for similar pursuits — First meeting with Audubon — His appearance, character, and history — His great works — Alexander Wilson and Audubon — Their respective positions as naturalists — Audubon and “ Christopher North.”

Well do I remember the hold the name of Audubon took upon my young imagination when I heard the fragmented rumour from afar, that there was a strange man abroad, who lived in the wilderness with only his dog and gun, and did nothing day by day but follow up the birds ; watching every thing they might do; keeping in sight of them all the time, wherever they went, while light lasted; then sleeping beneath the tree where they perched, to be up and follow them again with the dawn, until he knew every habit and way that belonged to them. That when he was satisfied, he would shoot them in some manner so as not to tear their plumage, and

B then sitting down on the mossy roots of an oak, and with nobody to criticise him but his wise-looking dog, and the squirrel that stamped and scolded at him from the limbs above, would draw such marvellous pictures of birds as the world never saw before !

Oh! what a happy, happy being that strange man must be, I used to think ; and what a strong and brave one, too, to sleep out among the panthers and wild cats, where the Indian whoop was heard — trusting only to his single arm and his faithful dog. I loved to speculate about that dog. He must be larger than my dog “ Milo,” I thought, and just about as gentle and true, but a little more knowing. How I envied him the happiness of such a master and such a life !

As for the master, what magical conjurations of a charmed fancy I loved to associate with him ! He must be noble and good, and wear such lofty calmness upon his brow. I had an idea of physical perfection, and be- ' low it could not bear to conceive that so heroic a philosopher could fall.

What a martyr-spirit his must be ; and what a daring enthusiasm leads him on through tangled swamps, where the cougar yelled, alligators roared, and hideous serpents parted, with their wavy spotted lengths, the green scum of stagnant pools ; up difficult mountains, where the rattle-snake sprung its deadly alarum amidst the mossy fissures of the crumbling stones, and the eagle whetted its hooked beak upon the crag-points; or beneath the profound shadows of primeval forests, where the few sunbeams that straggled through at noonday looked like gold dust scattered over the black earth — down the destructive flood of mighty rivers, or beside crystal lakes set in a columnar rim of giant cypresses ; on the sky -bounded ocean-heaved prairies, or where the green and glinting icebergs thundered dashingly against

AUDUBON— THE HUNTEK-NATUEALIST.

the hoar cliffs “ of fretted Labrador,” or the “ tropic gulf” hurled at the low “ Keys” its foaming mountains — through, amidst, and over all, his dauntless spirit was passing, led always by the winnowing sound of wings.

What a poetical enchantment there was to me in such a life ! What sights of awe and of beauty he must see ! What images of touching truth — of odd, peculiar humours, he must have stored ! And that magical power he was said to possess, — to tame in colours the very wave upon the leap, and the arrowy albatross upon the plunge into its beaded crest !

It seemed to me too much bliss and too many gifts for a single mortal to enjoy ! I felt, not envious; but a deep emulation was stirred within me. I vowed, in my inmost heart, that 1 would first see all those things for myself, with my own eyes ; where, and as he had seen them— out upon the broad face of the extended world — and then I could look upon his work and know, with an appreciative knowledge, whether he had wrought these miracles or not.

This resolve at once gave tone to my after-life. Many a tie was rent, and much agony endured by my friends, when I became a wanderer through wild and distant regions. The uttermost arms of the tremendous seaward floods of America saw me amongst their springs. The salt and tumbling Gulf tossed me upon its southern shores, and broad savannahs swelled in my westward course into undulating plains ; and they yet rose, across their wearisome breadth, into tall, rounded hills, that grew apace, with crags upon their heads, until heap upon heap, far glinting through the clouds, the pinnacled sharp rocks climbed upwards, and the vast forest of crags spread its white bloomy tops among the stars.

My restless step was everywhere ; my eager eyes saw all that our great continent could show. The

B 2 grizzly bear and the tropic bird were equally known to me. The savage trooper and the Mexican slave had been familiars, as well as the fierce bandit and the stern, simple-hearted hunter. Years of my earlier manhood passed in these erratic wanderings. I had grown familiar with all wild, grotesque, and lonely creatures that populate those infinite solitudes of nature, “that own not man’s dominion.” The vision and the passions of my boyhood still haunted me, and the rustling of free wings by my ear yet awakened all pleasant images.

Now, I felt that I had a right to know and see, face to face, that remarkable man whose deeds and life had so much occupied my imagination — who had so made a living reality out of what had been to me the poetry of life — ay, a poetry which had proved with me stronger

and driven me far and wide, an April shadow chased ' before the fitful wind !

Should I ever see him P The eager questioning lived about my heart whenever I heard his name. I returned home, “ the prodigal son,” my spirit much tamed and chastened; yet the old leven fermenting deep beneath the calmer surface.

My restless steps had not long been still. I became again a traveller.

Our boat landed one morning about daybreak at Pittsburg, — that singular city, that looks as if it had been built over the very gates of Acheron. Soon as I made my appearance in the raw, foggy air, upon the wharf, early as it was, I was surrounded by scores of “ strikers,” and agents of the different hotels and transportation lines.

Amidst the yells and deafening clamours of contending claims on every side, I permitted myself to be forced

AUDUBON — THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

bodily into a coach, and hurried off, bag and baggage, for — the word of the Darky “ Striker” being accepted — “the most splendiferous hotel in the city!” As it happened to be the one I knew, and had selected beforehand, I was content to take his definition of its superlative excellence.

Before I reached my destination, the coach was hailed from a street corner, and a fellow, muffied in a pilot cloth, sprang in and took a seat beside me. To my no little astonishment, he seemed to take the most sudden and peculiar interest in me, and, greatly to the exaltation of my inward consciousness of great deserts, plied me with a series of the sharpest questionings as to my whereabouts “when I was at home” — my destination, and above all, my route — with the roundest and most voluble protestations as to the affectionate interest he felt in seeing that all travellers, especially such looking ones as I was, were properly warned of the complicated impositions and knaveries practised habitually upon them, by the many transportation lines in this wicked city ; and to wind up this touching exordium, he frankly assured me that the “ Stage Route” across the mountains was the cheapest — the most safe — the “ most genteelest ” — and altogether the route he would recommend to such a gentleman as me !

The milk of human kindness was somewhat stirred in my veins, responsive to this gratuitous exhibition of a broad philanthropy — but as it happened that I had determined upon the “ Canal Route,” I waived, with the most thankful acknowledgments, any present committal, and gratefully accepted the card he thrust into my hand. But, as it most unfortunately occurred, I found the office of the “ Canal Route” for Philadelphia, etc., was next door to our hotel, and I was tempted, weakly enough, no doubt ! to go in and book my name “ clear

14 THE ROMANCE OF FOREST AND PRAIRIE LIEE.

through.” Insensate creature that I was! The canal boats would not start till after dark, so that I spent the hours allotted to daylight by the cathedral clocks, in exploring the streets of this dim Cyclopian city.

The incessant clang of sledge-hammers had become sufficiently monotonous when the evening closed in, and I was glad enough to take coach and he transported to the Canal Depot, when the usual vexations and delay consequent, had to be endured.

Finally, however, we got under weigh, with such a cargo of pigs, poultry, and humanity, as even canal boats are seldom blessed with. I stood upon tiptoe for the fresh air in the cabin, until the time had actually come when people must go to bed ; when that awTful personage, the Captain, summoned us all together, and informed us that every man, woman, and child aboard, must stow his, her, or itself away along the face of the narrow walls, in the succession of their registration during the day. Now, it happened that as gentlemen are not usually up before daybreak, that I stood first upon the first list, and was of course entitled to the first choice of hammocks. We panted in the centre of the close-jammed crowd, waiting till the ladies, who always take precedence in America, had been called off. As it happened that this right of choice was finally definitive for the route, and determined vrhether one should sleep upon a hammock, or the floor, or the tables, for several successive nights — it was a matter of no little moment.

It occurred while the ladies were being disposed of, that I heard above the buzz around me the name of Audubon spoken. My attention was instantly attracted by that magical sound. I listened in breathless eagerness. I heard a gentleman near me say — “ Mr. Audubon is last on the list ; I fear he will not get a bed, we are so crowded ! ”

AUDUBON — THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

I felt my heart leap.

“ What,” said I, leaning forward quickly, “ is it possible Mr. Audubon can be aboard? I thought he was still on his Bocky Mountain tour ! ”

“ We are just returning, sir,” said the gentleman 1 courteously, half smiling, as he observed the excited expression of my face.

“But you are joking, are you not?” said I, hardly able to realize so much happiness. “ He cannot really be in this boat ! Where ? Which is he ? ”

“ He is actually in this very cabin,” said he, turning full upon me.

“ The man of all others in the world I wanted to see most,” I ejaculated, half inwardly.

“Well, there he is,” said the gentleman laughing, as he pointed to a huge pile of green blankets and fur, which I had before observed stretched upon one of the benches, and took to be the fat bale of some Western trader.

“ What, that Mr. Audubon ?” I exclaimed, naively.

II Yes ; he is taking a nap.”

At that moment my name was called out by the Captain as entitled to the first choice of berths.

“ I waive my right of choice in favour of Mr. Audubon,” was my answer.

Now the green bale stirred a little — half turned upon its narrow resting-place, and, after a while, sat erect, and showed me, to my no small surprise, that there was a man inside of it.

A patriarchal beard fell, white and wavy, down his breast ; a pair of hawk-like eyes gleamed sharply out from the fuzzy shroud of cap and collar.

I drew near, with a thrill of irrepressible curiosity. The moment my eyes took in the noble contour of that Boman face, I felt that it was he, and could be no one else. Yes, it was Audubon in his wilderness garb, hale $ and alert, with sixty winters upon his shoulders, as one ^ of his own “ old eagles, feathered to the heel, ’ — fresh sq from where the floods are cradled amid crag-piled glooms, or flowery extended plains !

He looked as I had dreamed the antique Plato must have looked, with that fine, classic head, and lofty mien ! He fully realized the hero of the ideal. With what eager and affectionate admiration I gazed upon him, the valorous and venerable Sage !

What a deathless and beautiful dedication his had been to the holy priesthood of nature ! I felt that the very hem of his garments — of that rusty and faded green blanket, ought to be sacred to all devotees of science, and was so to me.

What an indomitable flame, that not

“ The wreakful siege of battering years ”

could quell, must fire that heroic heart ! To think, that now, when “ time had delved its parallels upon his brow” — when he had already accomplished the most Herculean labour of the age in his “ Birds of America” — still unsatisfied, he should undertake a new, and as grand a work, upon the animals ; and now he was returning with the trophies of science gathered on his toilsome and dangerous journeyings !

Ah, how I venerated him ! How I longed to know him, and to he permitted to sit at his feet and learn, and hear his own lips discourse of those loveable themes which had so absorbed my life.

I scarcely slept that night, for my brain was teeming with novel and happy images. I determined to stretch to the utmost the traveller’s license, and approach him in the morning. My happy fortune in having been able to make the “ surrender” in his favour

AUDUBON — THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

- assisted me, or else his quick eye detected at once the sympathy of our tastes ; be that as it may, we were soon on good terms.

Like all men who have lived much apart with nature, he was not very talkative. His conversation was impulsive and fragmentary; that, taken together with a mellow Gallic idiom, rendered his style pleaingly titillating to a curious listener, as I was, eager to get at his stores of knowledge, and compare my own diffuse hut extended observation with his profound accuracy.

The hours of that protracted journey glided by as in a dream. I was for ever at his side, catching with a delighted eagerness at those characteristic scraps that fell from his lips.

I was anxious to obtain an accurate insight into the man — the individual. I found rather more of the man of the world about him than I was inclined to expect, though every inch of him was symmetrical with his character of naturalist, and many inches are there in that, growing through tall cubits into the Titanic girth.

He had several new and curious animals along with him, which he had taken in those distant wilds where I had myself seen them in their freedom, and now they looked like old acquaintances to me ; and I soon got up an intimacy with the swift Fox, the snarling Badger, and the fiocky Mountain Deer. He exhibited to me some of the original drawings of the splendid work on the Zoology of the continent, which his sons are now engaged in bringing out. I recognized in them the miraculous pencil of the “ Birds of America.’’ But I observed several personal traits that interested me very much.

The confinement we were subjected to on board the canal-boat was very tiresome to his habits of freedom. We used to get ashore and walk for hours along the tow-path ahead of the boat; and I observed with astonishment that, though over sixty, he could walk me down with ease.

Now I was something of a walker, and was not very far advanced in years, and though I do not exactly affect the nimbleness of Cleopatra, who was seen to

“ Hop forty paces through the public street,”

yet I pretend to very respectable ambulatory powers. Though, I say, I would not enter in a match with Gildersleeve, Colonel Stannard, Kit North, John Neal, or anybody else who has pedestrinated himself into an Olympic crown; yet I do set up to be a walker, and I was not a little confounded at seeing this old man leave me panting to the leeward.

His physical energies seemed entirely unimpaired. Another striking evidence of this he gave me. A number of us were standing grouped around him, on the top of the boat, one clear, sunshiny morning; we were, at the same time, passing through a broken and very picturesque region ; his keen eyes, with an abstracted, intense expression — an expression of looking over the heads of men around him, out into nature, peculiar to them— were glancing over the scenery as we glided through, when suddenly he pointed with his linger towards the fence of a field several hundred yards off, with the exclamation —

“ See ! yonder is a Fox Squirrel, running along the top rail! It is not often I have seen them in Pennsylvania !”

Now his power of vision must have been singularly acute to have distinguished that it was a Fox Squirrel at such a distance ; for only myself and one other per-

AUDUBON — THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

)n out of a dozen or two, who were looking in the ime direction, detected the creature at all, and we mid barely distinguish that there was some object loving on the rail. I asked him curiously if he was ire of its being a Fox Squirrel. He smiled, and ashed his hawk-like glance upon me, as he answered — - “ Ah, I have an Indian’s eye !” And I had only to >ok into it to feel that he had.

These are slight but peculiar traits, in perfect keepag with his general characteristics as the naturalist nd the man. Of course, I never permitted that acuaintance to fall through while he lived, and amidst he many and wearisome vicissitudes which have beallen since, I have retained, fresh and unimpaired, the aemory of that journey through the mountains as one If the green places of the past where the sunlight tlways lives.

Thus it was I came first to meet him, laurelled and pray, my highest ideal of the Hunter-Naturalist — the )ld Audubon ! Ah, the grandeur of that man’s life ! hough it had filled my own with poetic yearnings in uy youth, yet they have lost nothing in fire and earnest upward through my maturer age ! Now that he is lead, and I can look upon his career with sobered ^vision, undazzled by the prestige of presence, uni biassed by personal affection, and from the stand-point , of wide experience and comparison with other men, still ;| I can speak of as a reality what was once more like the thought of a boy’s day-dream, — that in all the world’s history of wonderful men, there is not, to my mind, one ; story of life so filled with beautiful romance as this of J. J. Audubon, considered in the mere details of its facts. Take them in his own simple words as furnished by himself incidentally, in the text of his great work, and what a wondrous tale it is !

We will hear, then, from his own lips something how the greatest of the Hunter-Naturalists w^as dev loped, catch glimpses of the boy Audubon, artless conveyed through his own memories and impressio: of early scenes, yearnings and impressions, up to tl period of manly achievement ; of doubts, of failure, ai finally of gloriously consummated triumph! In h charming preface to the “ Biography of Birds,” writte during the March of 1831, he says of himself: —

“ I received life and light in the New World. Whc I had hardly yet learned to wralk, and to articula those first wrords always so endearing to parents, tl productions of nature that lay spread all around we] constantly pointed out to me. They soon became m playmates; and before my ideas were sufficiently forme to enable me to estimate the difference between tl azure tints of the sky and the emerald hue of the brigl foliage, I felt that an intimacy with them, not consis ing of friendship merely, but bordering on frenzy, mus accompany my steps through life; and now, more tha ever, am I persuaded of the power of those early impref sions. They laid such hold upon me, that, when re moved from the woods, the prairies, and the brooks, c shut up from the view of the wide Atlantic, I es perienced none of those pleasures most congenial to m mind. None but aerial companions suited my fancj No roof seemed so secure to me as that formed of th dense foliage under which the feathered tribes were see] to resort, or the caves and fissures of the massy rock to which the dark- winged Cormorant and the Curle\ retired to rest, or to protect themselves from the fury o the tempest. My father generally accompanied nr steps, procured birds and flowers for me with grea eagerness; pointed out the elegant movements of th. iormer, the beauty and softness of their plumage, thi

AUDUBON— THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

, nanifestations of their pleasure or sense of danger, and J he always perfect forms and splendid attire of the latter. s yiy valued preceptor would then speak of the departure Jmd return of birds with the seasons, would describe heir haunts, and, more wonderful than all, their change {l )f livery ; thus exciting me to study them, and to raise Uuy mind towards their great Creator.

“A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with a calmness of feeling that seldom j failed to rivet my attention for hours, whilst I gazed jjjin- ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay j : imbedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves ' and twigs, or were exposed upon the burning sand, or D | weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic shores. I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I watched I their opening, to see how Nature had provided each different species with eyes, either open at birth or closed 'for some time after ; to trace the slow progress of the r young birds towards perfection, or admire the celerity J with which some of them, while yet unfledged, removed i themselves from danger to security.

“ I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form.

| Those wishes, kind reader, were for the entire possession of all that I saw. I was fervently desirous of be- ! coming acquainted with Nature. For many years, however, I was sadly disappointed, and for ever, doubt- ! less, must I have desires that cannot be gratified. The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had been i when in life, the pleasure arising from the possession of it became blunted ; and although the greatest cares were bestowed in endeavours to preserve the appearance of nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than sullied | as requiring constant attention, and repeated mendings,

, while, after all, it could no longer be said to be fresh 1 from the hands of its Maker. I wished to possess all the productions of nature, but I wished life with them This was impossible. Then what was to he done P ] turned to my father, and made known to him my disappointment and anxiety. He produced a book oi Illustrations. A new life ran in my veins. I turned over the leaves with avidity ; and although what I saw was not what I longed for, it gave me a desire to co PH nature. To Nature I went, and tried to imitate her, as in the days of my childhood I had tried to raise myself from the ground and stand erect, before nature had imparted the vigour necessary for the success of such an undertaking.

“ How sorely disappointed did I feel for many years, when I saw that my productions were v7orse than those wrhich I ventured (perhaps in silence) to regard as bad, in the book given me by my father ! My pencil gave birth to a family of cripples. So maimed were most of; them, that they resembled the mangled corpses on a field of battle, compared with the integrity of living men. These difficulties and disappointments irritated me, but never for a moment destroyed the desire of obtaining perfect representations of nature. The worse my drawings were, the more beautiful did I see the originals. To have been torn from the study would have been as death to me. My time was entirely occupied with it. I produced hundreds of these rude sketches annually ; and for a long time, at my request, they made bonfires on the anniversaries of my birthday.

“ Patiently, and with industry, did I apply myself to study ; for, although I felt the impossibility of giving life to my productions, I did not abandon the idea of representing nature. Many plans were successively adopted; many masters guided my hand. At the age of seventeen, when I returned from France, whither I had gone to receive the rudiments of my education,, my

AUDUBON — THE HUNTER-NATURALIST.

ajlrawings had assumed a form. David had guided my | land in tracing objects of large size. Eyes and noses belonging to giants, and heads of horses represented in indent sculpture, were my models. These, although fit ubjects for men intent on pursuing the higher branches >f the art, were immediately laid aside by me. I reurned to the woods of the New World with fresh ardour,

' md commenced a collection of drawings, which I hence- I brth continued, and which is now publishing under the itle of ‘ The Birds of America.' n “ In Pennsylvania — a beautiful State, almost central

j >n the line of our Atlantic shores — my father, in his de- } ;ire of proving my friend through life, gave me what ’Americans call a beautiful ‘ plantation,' refreshed during I tie summer heats by the waters of the Schuylkill river, |md traversed by a creek named Perkioming. Its fine I voodlands, its extensive fields, its hills crowned with j evergreens, offered many subjects to my pencil. It was here that I commenced my simple and agreeable studies, j. vith as little concern about the future as if the world r lad been made for me. My rambles invariably com- 5 Inenced at break of day ; and to return wet with dew, md bearing a feathered prize, was, and ever will be, the ? jiighest enjoyment for which I have been fitted.