Read Ebook: Audubon the Naturalist: A History of His Life and Time. Vol. 2 (of 2) by Herrick Francis Hobart

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We embarked on the schooner Agnes; the wind was fair, and we hoisted all sails for the Floridas. Our passage was not short; the wind changed, and we put back into St. Simon's Island Bay. This was one of the few put backs in life of a fortunate kind for me. I made for the shore, met a gentleman on the beach, presented him my card, and was immediately invited to dinner. I visited his gardens, got into such agreeable conversation and quarters, that I was fain to think that I had landed on some one of those fairy islands said to have existed in the golden age. But this was not all; the owner of this hospitable mansion pressed me to stay a month with him, and subscribed to my Birds of America in the most gentlemanly manner. This was T. B. K., Esq. But the wind shifted; I was sent for, and our voyage to St. Augustine resumed.

As to geology, my dear Friend, you know as well as myself, that I am not in the country for that. The instructions you gave me are very valuable, and I shall be vigilant. The aspect of the country will soon begin to change, and as I proceed, I will write to you about all we see and do.... Do not be afraid of my safety; I take a reasonable care of my health and life. I know how to guard against real difficulties, and I have no time to attend to that worst of all kinds of difficulties,--imaginary ones. Circumstances never within my control, threw me upon my own resources, at a very early period of my life. I have grown up in the school of adversity, and am not an unprofitable scholar there, having learnt to be satisfied with providing for my family and myself by my own exertions. The life I lead is my vocation, full of smooth and rough paths, like every vocation which men variously try. My physical constitution has always been good, and the fine flow of spirits I have, has often greatly assisted me in some of the most trying passages of my life. I know I am engaged in an arduous undertaking; but if I live to complete it, I will offer to my country a beautiful monument of the varied splendour of American nature, and of my devotion to American ornithology.

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON.

Ther., this day, at 2 p. m., 78? Fahr.

A wagon was sent for our baggage and horses for ourselves were offered at the same time, but it was not my desire to give unnecessary trouble, and above all upon an occasion when I was glad to see the country in as much detail as possible, and anxious to avail myself of every occasion to get new birds.

During the whole long stay with Mr. Bulow, there was no abatement of his kindness, or his unremitted efforts to make me comfortable, and to promote my researches. I shall ever feel grateful to one of the most deserving and generous of men.

On December 28 their host proposed that they should descend the Halifax River in search of new and valuable birds to a point about forty miles from that place and eighty miles from St. Augustine.

They reached a spot, called "Live Oak Landing," where a schooner from New York was then anchored, and there passed the night.

At sunrise the next morning, I and four negro servants proceeded in search of birds and adventures. The fact is, that I was anxious to kill some 25 brown Pelicans ... to enable me to make a new drawing of an adult male bird, and to procure the dresses of the others. I proceeded along a narrow, shallow bay, where the fish were truly abundant. Would you believe it, if I were to say, that the fish nearly obstructed our head-way? Believe it, or not, so it was; the waters were filled with them, large and small. I shot some rare birds, and putting along the shore, passed a point, when lo, I came in sight of several hundred pelicans, perched on the branches of mangrove trees, seated in comfortable harmony, as near each other as the strength of the boughs would allow. I ordered to back water gently; the hands backed water. I waded to the shore under cover of the rushes along it, saw the pelecans fast asleep, examined their countenances and deportment well and leisurely, and after all, levelled, fired my piece, and dropped two of the finest specimens I ever saw. I really believe I would have shot one hundred of these reverend sirs, had not a mistake taken place in the reloading of my gun. A mistake, however, did take place, and to my utmost disappointment, I saw each pelecan, old and young, leave his perch, and take to wing, soaring off, well pleased, I dare say, at making so good an escape from so dangerous a foe.

After shooting more birds, and pushing or pulling their boat "over oyster banks sharp as razors," they made the schooner at the landing again. "The birds, generally speaking," he continues, "appeared wild and few--you must be aware that I call birds few, when I shoot less than one hundred per day."

Such remarks as we have just quoted might convey the impression that the American woodsman, with whose name the cause of bird protection is now associated in this country, was a reckless destroyer of all bird life, but this was far from the case. It must be remembered that this was over eighty years ago, when the unrivaled abundance of our birds was such that the necessity of their conservation had hardly entered the dreams of the most discerning. Audubon no doubt had gradually yielded to the prevalent mania for describing and figuring new species, and to make out all the minute specific differences a large series of specimens was necessary; still more were needed for the detection of individual variation, which did not escape him, and much less his assistant, William MacGillivray, who demanded large numbers for his anatomical studies. Furthermore, Audubon counted upon defraying a part of his expenses by collections of skins of American birds, which were then desiderata among the museums of Europe.

When it was proposed that they should return,

Their predicament, however, was still serious, for, to continue the narrative, they were

confined in a large salt marsh, with rushes head high, and miry; no provisions left, and fifteen miles from the house of their host.

Not a moment was to be lost, for I foresaw that the next night would prove much colder still. The boat was manned once more, and off through the mud we moved to double the point, and enter the creek, of which I have spoken, with the hope that in it we should find water enough to float her. It did happen so, thank God! As we once more saw our barque afloat, our spirits rose,--and rose to such a pitch that we in fun set fire to the whole marsh: crack, crack, crack! went the reeds, with a rapid blaze. We saw the marsh rabbits, scampering from the fire by the thousands, as we pulled our oars.

Their pleasure in being afloat was short-lived, for "the northeaster had well nigh emptied the creek of its usual quantum of water," and they were again obliged to wade to effect a landing, their object being to gain the east Florida coast and thus make their escape. This was finally attained after abandoning their boat, when began a long tramp on the beach, in the teeth of the wind,

All hands returned alive; refreshments and good care have made us all well again, unless it be the stiffness occasioned in my left leg, by nearly six weeks of daily wading through swamps and salt marshes, or scrambling through the vilest thickets of scrubly live oaks and palmitoes that appear to have been created for no other purpose but to punish us for our sins.

Readers of the following account who have visited eastern Florida may conclude that Audubon was not a good prophet, but probably at that early day no one could have made a better forecast of the future:

When they had reached the borders of Woodruff's Lake, after noon, fatigued and hungry, he continued:

We landed on a small island of a few acres, covered with a grove of sour orange trees, intermixed with not a few live oaks. The oranges were in great profusion on the trees--everything about us was calm and beautiful and motionless, as if it had just come from the hand of the Creator. It would have been a perfect Paradise for a poet, but I was not fit to be in Paradise; the loss of my ibis made me as sour as the oranges that hung about me. I felt unquiet, too, in this singular scene, as if I were almost upon the verge of creation, where realities were tapering off into nothing. The general wildness the eternal labyrinths of waters and marshes, interlocked, and apparently never ending; the whole surrounded by interminable swamps--all these things had a tendency to depress my spirits, notwithstanding some beautiful flowers, rich looking fruits, a pure sky, and ample sheets of water at my feet. Here I am in the Floridas, thought I, a country that received its name from the odours wafted from the orange groves, to the boats of the first discoverers, and which from my childhood I have consecrated in my imagination as the garden of the United States. A garden, where all that is not mud, mud, mud, is sand, sand, sand; where the fruit is so sour that it is not eatable, and where in place of singing birds and golden fishes, you have a species of ibis that you cannot get when you have shot it, and alligators, snakes, and scorpions.

Mr. Bartram was the first to call this a garden, but he is to be forgiven; he was an enthusiastic botanist, and rare plants, in the eyes of such a man, convert a wilderness at once into a garden.

When we had eaten our humble repast at the sweet little Orange Grove Island, we left it "alone with its glory," but not without a name. It was determined, nolens volens, that it should be called Audubon's Island, on the St. John's river. Lat. 29? 42?.

Again the naturalist applied to the government officials at Washington for assistance, and, as the following letter shows, Edward Everett again came to his aid, as did also Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the Navy, to whom Audubon later received a personal introduction from Chief Justice Taney of the Supreme Court:

NAVY DEPARTMENT

SIR,

The letter of the Honorable Mr. Everett of the 18th. inst. relating to Mr. Audubon &c and referred by you to this Department, has been received.

I regret that the impaired condition of the Spark made it necessary some weeks ago, to order that vessel to Norfolk to be refitted.

I have heretofore taken much pleasure in furnishing Mr. Audubon with credentials to the officers of the Navy, and requesting to furnish every aid, in the prosecution of scientific researches: and shall be happy to afford any further facilities within the power of the Department.

I am very respectfully &c &c

LEVI WOODBURY

HONORABLE. L. MC LANE Secy of the Treasury

At Charleston the party disbanded. Lehman returned to Philadelphia, whither Audubon later followed him, but Henry Ward obtained a position with the Museum of Natural History, in which Bachman was interested, and he appears to have been of much assistance both to Bachman and to his friend in procuring for them specimens of new or desirable birds and mammals; at a later day, however, he seems to have fallen into disesteem on account of unpaid debts.

EASTERN VISIT AND EXPLORATIONS IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC

Bachman's success as a canvasser--Boston visit--Journey to Portland--Ascent of the St. John's--Return overland--Victor Audubon becomes his father's agent--Winter in Boston--The Golden Eagle--Stricken with illness--Expedition to Labrador planned--American support--Sails from Eastport with five assistants--Discoveries and adventures on the Labrador--Safe return--Another winter at Charleston--Sued for old debts--Experience with vultures--Advice and instruction to a son--Working habits--Return to England.

Foiled in his attempt to see the Florida coast at the season best suited to his purposes, and disappointed in his ambition to penetrate to the Far West, Audubon now turned his attention to the East and determined to follow the migratory birds to their summer homes in the North Atlantic. He left Charleston in early June, 1832, and went to Philadelphia, where he remained about a month, waiting, it seems, for his wife and two sons to join him. In a letter to Edward Harris, dated at Philadelphia, June 9, 1832, he said that he had left the "National hotel, on account of the too high price, I found I would have to pay there, and removed to Camden, at a Mr. Armstrong's, where I formerly boarded"; he asked Harris to send him "a pair of fine woodchucks," as he wished to secure a drawing of those animals.

I arrived in Columbia, S. C., almost too late, for the "House" had just resolved that the State was too poor to subscribe for Audubon's work. I felt that it would be a disgrace to the State; and, for the first time in my life, I turned to electioneering. And now, behold me among the back countrymen, spinning long yarns. The thing however, took, and your book is subscribed for.... I read what was said in your favor with regard to the "Rattlesnake Story," and thus far, they have not found a wrong twist in your yarn; but be careful in describing the wonders of the South and West.

His plan was now to visit Boston and Maine, and he left Philadelphia with his family in early August; they traveled by stage to New York, but upon finding that the city was then suffering from a periodic scourge of the cholera, tarried but a day and hastened on. The following letter which Richard Harlan sent after his friend in August of this year shows that his own city did not escape the pest:

J. J. AUDUBON Esqr. No Pearle st. Boston

DEAR SIR--

R HARLAN

Audubon's visit to Boston in the summer of 1832 was a red-letter period in his career. So warmly was he then welcomed by the leading public and professional men of the city that he could never say enough in praise of the Bostonians. Dr. George Parkman, Dr. George C. Shattuck, and Col. Thomas H. Perkins, who was already one of his subscribers, were among his most enthusiastic supporters. Of Parkman Audubon said: "He it is, whose memory is most dear to me." It was doubtless Parkman, then a professor in the Medical School, who introduced Audubon to the president of Harvard University, Josiah Quincy, whose name was added to his list.

On August 14, shortly after reaching Boston, Audubon wrote to his friend Harris:

We left Camden, pushed by the season, and the desire I have to fulfil towards my subscribers, the world, and indeed myself, the task allotted me by nature,--the completion of my work.... Allow me to say that with my work, as in the days of '76, the Bostonians have proved themselves the best supporters of a good cause in the country. We expect the support of the Cambridge University, that of the Natural History Society, & again of the State!

I made drawings of 3 rare species; one is the Marsh Wren, for which I searched in vain when near Salem; the 2d. is a Fly-catcher, described by Mr. Nuttall, and the last a Thrush.

We leave tomorrow for Portland, in Maine, through which we will merely pass, and ere one week expires, expect to be at the Bay of Fundy.

The Audubon family now traveled by carriage and mail-coach along the entire coast of Maine, but made no prolonged stay until they reached Eastport, where excursions were taken into the surrounding country, and the woods and shores were thoroughly ransacked. At Dennisville they made the acquaintance of Judge Lincoln's family, which rendered their stay of a number of weeks "exceedingly agreeable"; as will appear later, it was this agreeable family that furnished Audubon with a valuable recruit for his expedition to Labrador. Towards the end of September they entered New Brunswick and began to ascend the St. John's River. A week was passed at Fredericton, where they were hospitably received by Sir Archibald Campbell. Thence they continued in a small boat, which was towed upstream by mules, to Woodstock, Maine. There a cart was procured, in which they proceeded overland to Houlton, in Aroostook County, then "A neat village, consisting of some fifty houses," and after a few days passed at this garrison town in looking for new birds, they started for Bangor, following the old military road which led along the Penobscot River to Old Town. Said the ornithologist of this journey:

Autumn, with her mellow tints, her glowing fruits, and her rich fields of corn, smiled in placid beauty. Many of the fields had not been reaped; the fruits of the forests and orchards hung clustering around us, and as we came in view of the Penebscot river, our hearts thrilled with joy....

The road which we followed from Old Town to Bangor was literally covered with Penobscot Indians, returning from market. On reaching the latter beautiful town, we found very comfortable lodgings in an excellent hotel; and the next day we proceeded by the mail to Boston.

The autumn of 1832 and the following winter were spent in Boston, where the naturalist was busily engaged in drawing and in laying plans for the now famous expedition to the coast of Labrador. Meantime Bachman, who was keenly interested in his success, was urging him to return to Charleston; on October 20, 1832, he wrote: "A month in your society would afford me greater pleasure than the highest prize in a lottery. I cannot, I find, feel myself at home with new birds without having the skins to refer to. My cabinet is enlarging every day. Henry Ward now prepares the skins--a pair of each.... What ducks, that are not likely to be obtained for you in Boston, would you like Maria to draw for you?" Writing again on the 26th of October, he said:

Under date of December 20, 1832, his friend "had nothing to write but bad news," and hoped "to see our political atmosphere a little brighter. Do not ask me about birds; I do not know a Buzzard from a King Bird.... Oh, what an enjoyment it would be for me to escape, just for one week, from the hydra-headed 'Nullification,' and sit by your side and talk birds!"

Audubon was anticipating his third volume of plates, devoted mainly to water birds, which was begun with Number 45, in 1834, when the following letter was sent to his son in London:

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