University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

From this time to the close of April, the weather
continued to be a succession of great and rapid
changes. One day, the soft airs of spring
would seem to be stealing along the valley, and,
in unison with an invigorating sun, attempting,
covertly, to rouse the dormant powers of the vegetable
world; while on the next, the surly blasts
from the north would sweep across the lake, and
erase every impression left by their gentle adversaries.
The snow, however, finally disappeared,
and the green wheat fields were seen in every direction,
spotted with the dark and charred stumps
that had, the preceding season, supported some of
the proudest trees of the forest. Ploughs were in
motion, wherever those useful implements could
be used, and the smokes of the sugar-camps were
no longer seen issuing from the summits of the
woods of maple. The lake had lost all the characteristic
beauty of a field of ice, but still a dark
and gloomy covering concealed its waters, for the
absence of currents left them yet hid under a

porous crust, which, saturated with the fluid, barely
retained enough of its strength to preserve the
contiguity of its parts. Large flocks of wild geese
were seen passing over the country, which hovered,
for a time, around the hidden sheet of water,
apparently searching for an opening, where they
might obtain a resting-place; and then, on finding
themselves excluded by the chill covering, would
soar away to the north, filling the air with their
discordant screams, as if venting their complaints
at the tardy operations of nature.

For a week, the dark covering of the Otsego
was left to the undisturbed possession of two eagles,
who alighted on the centre of its field, and
sat proudly eyeing the extent of their undisputed
territory. During the presence of these
monarchs of the air, the flocks of migrating birds
avoided crossing the plain of ice, by turning
into the hills, apparently seeking the protection
of the forests, while the white and bald heads
of the tenants of the lake were turned upward,
with a look of majestic contempt, as if penetrating
to the very heavens with the acuteness of their
vision. But the time had come, when even these
kings of birds were to be dispossessed. An opening
had been gradually increasing, at the lower
extremity of the lake, and around the dark spot
where the current of the river had prevented the
formation of ice, during even the coldest weather;
and the fresh southerly winds, that now
breathed freely up the valley, obtained an impression
on the waters. Mimic waves begun to curl
over the margin of the frozen field, which exhibited
an outline of crystalizations, that slowly receded
towards the north. At each step the power of the
winds and the waves increased, until, after a struggle
of a few hours, the turbulent little billows succeeded
in setting the whole field in an undulating

motion, when it was driven beyond the reach of
the eye, with a rapidity that was as magical as
the change produced in the scene by this expulsion
of the lingering remnant of winter. Just
as the last sheet of agitated ice was disappearing
in the distance, the eagles rose over the border of
crystals, and soared with a wide sweep far above
the clouds, while the waves tossed their little caps
of snow into the air, as if rioting in their release
from a thraldom of five months' duration.

The following morning Elizabeth was awakened
by the exhilarating sounds of the martins, who
were quarreling and chattering around the little
boxes that were suspended above her windows,
and the cries of Richard, who was calling, in tones
as animating as the signs of the season itself—

“Awake! awake! my lady fair! the gulls are
hovering over the lake already, and the heavens
are alive with the pigeons. You may look an
hour before you can find a hole, through which,
to get a peep at the sun. Awake! awake! lazy
ones! Benjamin is overhauling the ammunition,
and we only wait for our breakfasts, and away for
the mountains and pigeon-shooting.”

There was no resisting this animated appeal,
and in a few minutes Miss Temple and her friend
descended to the parlour. The doors of the hall
were thrown open, and the mild, balmy air of a
clear spring morning was ventilating the apartment,
where the vigilance of the ex-steward had
been so long maintaining an artificial heat, with
such unremitted diligence. The gentlemen were
impatiently waiting for their morning's repast,
each being equipt in the garb of a sportsman. Mr.
Jones made many visits to the southern door, and
would cry—

“See, cousin Bess! see, 'duke, the pigeon-roosts
of the south have broken up! They are

growing more thick every instant. Here is a flock
that the eye cannot see the end of. There is food
enough in it to keep the army of Xerxes for a
month, and feathers enough to make beds for the
whole county. Xerxes, Mr. Edwards, was a Grecian
king, who—no, he was a Turk, or a Persian,
who wanted to conquer Greece, just the same as
these rascals will overrun our wheat-fields, when
they come back in the fall.—Away! away! Bess;
I long to pepper them from the mountain.”

In this wish both Marmaduke and young Edwards
seemed equally to participate, for the sight
was most exhilarating to a sportsman; and the
ladies soon dismissed the party, after a hasty
breakfast.

If the heavens were alive with pigeons, the
whole village seemed equally in motion, with men,
women, and children. Every species of fire-arms,
from the French ducking-gun, with its barrel of
near six feet in length, to the common horseman's
pistol, was to be seen in the hands of the men
and boys; while bows and arrows, some made of
the simple stick of a walnut sapling, and others in
a rude imitation of the ancient cross-bows, were
carried by many of the latter.

The houses and the signs of life apparent in
the village, drove the alarmed birds from the direct
line of their flight, towards the mountains,
along the sides and near the bases of which they
were glancing in dense masses, that were equally
wonderful by the rapidity of their motion, as by
their incredible numbers.

We have already said, that across the inclined
plane which fell from the steep ascent of the
mountain to the banks of the Susquehanna, ran the
highway, on either side of which a clearing of
many acres had been made, at a very early day.
Over those clearings, and up the eastern mountain,

and along the dangerous path that was cut into
its side, the different individuals posted themselves,
as suited their inclinations; and in a few moments
the attack commenced.

Amongst the sportsmen was to be seen the tall,
gaunt form of Leather-stocking, who was walking
over the field, with his rifle hanging on his arm,
his dogs following close at his heels, now scenting
the dead or wounded birds, that were beginning
to tumble from the flocks, and then crouching
under the legs of their master, as if they participated
in his feelings at this wasteful and unsports-manlike
execution.

The reports of the fire-arms became rapid,
whole volleys rising from the plain, as flocks of
more than ordinary numbers darted over the
opening, covering the field with darkness, like an
interposing cloud; and then the light smoke of a
single piece would issue from among the leafless
bushes on the mountain, as death was hurled on
the retreat of the affrighted birds, who were rising
from a volley, for many feet into the air, in a vain
effort to escape the attacks of man. Arrows, and
missiles of every kind, were seen in the midst of
the flocks; and so numerous were the birds, and
so low did they take their flight, that even long
poles, in the hands of those on the sides of the
mountain, were used to strike them to the earth.

During all this time, Mr. Jones, who disdained
the humble and ordinary means of destruction used
by his companions, was busily occupied, aided by
Benjamin, in making arrangements for an assault
of a more than ordinarily fatal character. Among
the relics of the old military excursions, that occasionally
are discovered throughout the different
districts of the western part of New-York, there
had been found in Templeton, at its settlement, a
small swivel, which would carry a ball of a pound

weight. It was thought to have been deserted by
a war-party of the whites, in one of their inroads
into the Indian settlements, when, perhaps their
convenience or their necessities induced them to
leave such an encumbrance behind them in the
woods. This miniature cannon had been released
from the rust, and being mounted on little wheels,
was now in a state for actual service. For several
years, it was the sole organ for extraordinary rejoicings
that was used in those mountains. On
the mornings of the Fourths of July, it would be
heard, with its echoes ringing among the hills,
and telling forth its sounds, for thirteen times,
with all the dignity of a two-and-thirty pounder;
and even Captain Hollister, who was the highest
authority in that part of the country on all such
occasions, affirmed that, considering its dimensions,
it was no despicable gun for a salute. It
was somewhat the worse for the service it had performed,
it is true, there being but a trifling difference
in size between the touch-hole and the muzzle.
Still, the grand conceptions of Richard had
suggested the importance of such an instrument,
in hurling death at his nimble enemies. The
swivel was dragged by a horse into a part of the
open space, that the Sheriff thought most eligible
for planting a battery of the kind, and Mr. Pump
proceeded to load it. Several handfuls of duck-shot
were placed on top of the powder, and the
Major-domo soon announced that his piece was
ready for service.

The sight of such an implement collected all
the idle spectators to the spot, who, being mostly
boys, filled the air with their cries of exultation
and delight. The gun was pointed on high, and
Richard, holding a coal of fire in a pair of tongs,
patiently took his seat on a stump, awaiting the

appearance of a flock that was worthy of his
notice.

So prodigious was the number of the birds,
that the scattering fire of the guns, with the hurling
of missiles, and the cries of the boys, had no
other effect than to break off small flocks from
the immense masses that continued to dart along
the valley, as if the whole creation of the feathered
tribe were pouring through that one pass. None
pretended to collect the game, which lay scattered
over the fields in such profusion as to cover the
very ground with the fluttering victims.

Leather-stocking was a silent, but uneasy spectator
of all these proceedings, but was able to keep
his sentiments to himself until he saw the introduction
of the swivel into the sports.

“This comes of settling a country!” he said—
“here have I known the pigeons to fly for forty
long years, and, till you made your clearings,
there was nobody to skear or to hurt them. I
loved to see them come into the woods, for they
were company to a body; hurting nothing; being,
as it was, as harmless as a garter-snake. But
now it gives me sore thoughts when I hear the
frighty things whizzing through the air, for I
know it's only a motion to bring out all the brats
in the village at them. Well! the Lord won't see
the waste of his creaters for nothing, and right
will be done to the pigeons, as well as others,
by-and-by.—There's Mr. Oliver, as bad as the
rest of them, firing into the flocks as if he was
shooting down nothing but the Mingo warriors.”

Among the sportsmen was Billy Kirby, who,
armed with an old musket, was loading, and
without even looking into the air, was firing and
shouting as his victims fell even on his own person.
He heard the speech of Natty, and took
upon himself to reply—

“What's that, old Leather-stocking!” he cried,
“grumbling at the loss of a few pigeons! If you
had to sow your wheat twice, and three times, as
I have done, you wouldn't be so massyfully feeling'd
to'ards the divils.—Hurrah, boys! scatter
the feathers. This is better than shooting at a
turkey's head and neck, old fellow.”

“It's better for you, maybe, Billy Kirby,” replied
the indignant old hunter, “and all them as
don't know how to put a ball down a rifle-barrel,
or how to bring it up ag'in with a true aim; but
it's wicked to be shooting into flocks in this
wastey manner; and none do it, who know how
to knock over a single bird. If a body has a
craving for pigeon's flesh, why! it's made the same
as all other creater's, for man's eating, but not to
kill twenty and eat one. When I want such a
thing, I go into the woods till I find one to my
liking, and then I shoot him off the branches without
touching a feather of another, though there
might be a hundred on the same tree. But you
couldn't do such a thing, Billy Kirby—you
couldn't do it if you tried.”

“What's that you say, you old, dried cornstalk!
you sapless stub!” cried the wood-chopper.
“You've grown mighty boasting, sin' you
killed the turkey; but if you're for a single shot,
here goes at that bird which comes on by himself.”

The fire from the distant part of the field had
driven a single pigeon below the flock to which it
had belonged, and, frightened with the constant
reports of the muskets, it was approaching the
spot where the disputants stood, darting first from
one side, and then to the other, cutting the air
with the swiftness of lightning, and making a
noise with its wings, not unlike the rushing of a
bullet. Unfortunately for the wood-chopper, notwithstanding

his vaunt, he did not see his bird
until it was too late for him to fire as it approached,
and he pulled his trigger at the unlucky moment
when it was darting immediately over his
head. The bird continued its course with incredible
velocity.

Natty lowered the rifle from his arm, when
the challenge was made, and, waiting a moment,
until the terrified victim had got in a line with
his eyes, and had dropped near the bank of the
lake, he raised it again with uncommon rapidity,
and fired. It might have been chance, or it
might have been skill, that produced the result;
it was probably a union of both; but the pigeon
whirled over in the air, and fell into the lake,
with a broken wing. At the sound of his rifle,
both his dogs started from his feet, and in a few
minutes the “slut” brought out the bird, still alive.

The wonderful exploit of Leather-stocking was
noised through the field with great rapidity, and
the sportsmen gathered in to learn the truth of the
report.

“What,” said young Edwards, have you really
killed a pigeon on the wing, Natty, with a single
ball?”

“Haven't I killed loons before now, lad, that
dive at the flash?” returned the hunter. “It's
much better to kill only such as you want, without
wasting your powder and lead, than to be
firing into God's creaters in such a wicked manner.
But I come out for a bird, and you know
the reason why I like small game, Mr. Oliver,
and now I have got one I will go home, for I
don't relish to see these wasty ways that you are
all practysing, as if the least thing wasn't made
for use, and not to destroy.

“Thou sayest well, Leather-stocking,” cried

Marmaduke, “and I begin to think it time to put
an end to this work of destruction.”

“Put an ind, Judge, to your clearings. An't
the woods his work as well as the pigeons? Use,
but don't waste. Wasn't the woods made for the
beasts and birds to harbour in? and when man
wanted their flesh, their skins, or their feathers,
there's the place to seek them. But I'll go to the
hut with my own game, for I wouldn't touch one
of the harmless things that kiver the ground here,
looking up with their eyes on me, as if they only
wanted tongues to say their thoughts.”

With this sentiment in his mouth, Leather-stocking
threw his rifle over his arm, and followed
by his dogs, stepped across the clearing with
great caution, taking care not to tread on one
of the wounded birds that lay in his path. He
soon entered the bushes on the margin of the
lake, and was hid from view.

Whatever impression the morality of Natty
made on the Judge, it was utterly lost on Richard.
He availed himself of the gathering of the sportsmen,
to lay a plan for one “fell swoop” of destruction.
The musket-men were drawn up in
battle array, in a line extending on each side of
his artillery, with orders to await the signal of
firing from himself.

“Stand by, my lads,” said Benjamin, who acted
as an aid de-camp on this momentous occasion,
“stand by, my hearties, and when Squire
Dickens heaves out the signal for to begin the
firing, d'ye see, you may open upon them in a
broadside. Take care and fire low, boys, and
you'll be sure to hull the flock.”

“Fire low!” shouted Kirby—“hear the old
fool! If we fire low, we may hit the stumps, but
not ruffle a pigeon.”

“How should you know, you lubber?” cried

Benjamin, with a very unbecoming heat for an
officer on the eve of battle—“how should you
know, you grampus? Havn't I sailed aboard of
the Boadishey for five years? and wasn't it a
standing order to fire low, and to hull your enemy?
Keep silence at your guns, boys, and mind
the order that is passed.”

The loud laughs of the musketmen were silenced
by the authoritative voice of Richard, who called
to them for attention and obedience to his signals.

Some millions of pigeons were supposed to
have already passed, that morning, over the valley
of Templeton; but nothing like the flock
that was now approaching had been seen before.
It extended from mountain to mountain in one
solid blue mass, and the eye looked in vain over
the southern hills to find its termination. The
front of this living column was distinctly marked
by a line, but very slightly indented, so regular
and even was the flight. Even Marmaduke forgot
the morality of Leather-stocking as it approached,
and, in common with the rest, brought
his musket to his shoulder.

“Fire!” cried the Sheriff, clapping his coal to
the priming of the cannon. As half of Benjamin's
charge escaped through the touch-hole, the
whole volley of the musketry preceded the report
of the swivel. On receiving this united discharge
of small-arms, the front of the flock darted upward,
while, at the same instant, myriads of those
in their rear rushed with amazing rapidity into
their places, so that when the column of white
smoke gushed from the mouth of the little cannon,
an accumulated mass of objects was gliding over
its point of direction. The roar of the gun
echoed along the mountains, and died away to the
north, like distant thunder, while the whole flock

of alarmed birds seemed, for a moment, thrown
into one disorderly and agitated mass. The air
was filled with their irregular flights, layer rising
over layer, far above the tops of the highest pines,
none daring to advance beyond the dangerous
pass; when, suddenly, some of the leaders of the
feathered tribe shot across the valley, taking their
flight directly over the village, and the hundreds
of thousands in their rear followed their example,
deserting the eastern side of the plain to their persecutors
and the fallen.

“Victory!” shouted Richard, “victory! we
have driven the enemy from the field.”

“Not so, Dickon,” said Marmaduke; “the
field is covered with them; and, like the Leather-stocking,
I see nothing but eyes, in every direction,
as the innocent sufferers turn their heads in
terror, to examine my movements. Full one half
of those that have fallen are yet alive: and I
think it is time to end the sport; if sport it be.”

“Sport!” cried the Sheriff; “it is princely
sport! There are some thousands of the blue-coated
boys on the ground, so that every old woman
in the village may have a pot-pie for the
asking.”

“Well, we have happily frightened the birds
from this side the valley,” said Marmaduke,
“and our carnage must of necessity end, for the
present.—Boys, I will give thee sixpence a hundred
for the pigeons' heads only; so go to work,
and bring them into the village, where I will pay
you.”

This expedient produced the desired effect, for
every urchin on the ground went industriously to
work to wring the necks of the wounded birds.
Judge Temple retired towards his dwelling with
that kind of feeling, that many a man has experienced
before him, who discovers, after the

excitement of the moment has passed, that he has
purchased pleasure at the price of misery to others.
Horses were loaded with the dead; and, after
this first burst of sporting, the shooting of pigeons
became a business, for the remainder of the season,
more in proportion to the wants of the people.
Richard, however, boasted for many a year,
of his shot with the “cricket;” and Benjamin
gravely asserted, that he thought they killed nearly
as many pigeons on that day, as there were
Frenchmen destroyed on the memorable occasion
of Rodney's victory.