CARRIER-PIGEONS
Resuming the subject of bird instinct as illustrated by the migratory
flock’s unerring precision in finding its way over thousands of miles
to a desired nesting-place, Uncle Paul continued as follows:
“How is it that so many thousands, even millions, of migrating birds
can direct their course through trackless space each to the particular
rock or tree or nest left behind six months before, when the yearly
removal was decided upon to some southern region a thousand miles or
more distant? How, for example, does the frail swallow manage to find
again, at the return of spring, its tiny abode in the north when it
retraces the long journey of the previous autumn? In order that we may
be sure it is the same swallow returned to the same nest we tie a
colored string, as I have said, around the bird’s claw; and, lo and
behold, when April comes, with it comes our swallow to its dwelling
under the eaves. It is indeed our identical bird and no other; it is
the very one that fashioned the nest of clay, cherished bit of private
property now so eagerly taken possession of once more. The owner’s
demonstrations of satisfaction and delight are convincing proof, even
were the bit of red thread not there to dispel all doubt.
“If the swallow is able to find its nest again upon returning in the
spring from the land of the negroes, still more will it be able to find
it after being removed merely from its native canton to the neighboring
one.
“A mother sitting on her eggs or feeding her young is taken, let us
suppose, put into a basket, and carried quickly to a spot twenty or
thirty leagues distant, where she is set free again. The surrounding
country is unfamiliar to her: she has never been there before. Of the
road over which she has just come she has not the slightest knowledge,
having traveled it in the darkness of a closed basket. No matter. With
only a moment’s hesitation she gets her bearings amid these strange
scenes and takes flight toward her nest as unerringly as if it were
possible to see the very roof under which repose her little ones. In a
few hours we shall find her back again on her nest.
“A like behavior under similar conditions might be witnessed in the
case of divers other birds noted for strength of wing and power of
sustained flight. They would return to their domicile in spite of the
distance to be traversed and the unfamiliarity of the intervening
country. Maternal love can accomplish wonders. In order to save her
eggs from a chill or her little ones from starving in her absence, the
mother-bird exercises a geographical skill as marvelous as that
displayed at the period of migration.”
“I have heard it said,” remarked Louis, “that the pigeon is very clever
at finding its way over long distances, and that it is used for
carrying letters from one place to another.”
“Yes,” replied Uncle Paul, “this aptitude for retracing the homeward
way over vast distances is shown to an extraordinary degree by some of
our domestic pigeons. Economizing all their strength for purposes of
sustained flight, they have retained the wild pigeon’s pointed wings,
sleek plumage, and symmetrical form. We call these birds
carrier-pigeons, a name well earned, as you will see from what I have
now to tell you.
“A pigeon having a brood of young is taken from the pigeon-house, put
into a closed basket, and transported a distance of a hundred, two
hundred leagues, or even further if you choose—from one end of France
to the other. There it is set free. It rises in the air, circles about
a few times as if to assure itself of the direction to be followed, and
then starts off in impetuous flight toward the quarter where
pigeon-house and young await its coming.
“Does the bird catch sight of the pigeon-house as it circles about in
the upper air? By no means; the distance is too great. Even should it
rise to the height of the clouds, or to still greater altitudes, where
moreover its wings could not sustain it, it would be unable to see its
home. On the journey to the point where it was released it has had no
passing glimpse of any object, shut up as it has been in the dark
basket. The region it now traverses it sees for the first time. Nothing
in the surrounding landscape is familiar, and yet its flight evinces
the assurance that comes from having a definite goal in view. With a
speed of about twenty leagues an hour it wings its way straight to the
journey’s end. If the distance is too great to be covered without
pause, halts are made here and there for food and rest; then the
journey is resumed, swift as an arrow’s flight. Finally, at the end of
some hours or days, according to the distance and the duration of the
halts, the bird reënters the pigeon-house with its beakful of food for
the waiting little ones.
“In serious situations the carrier-pigeon is a valuable messenger.
During the winter of that terrible year, 1870–71, when the German
hordes besieged Paris, no communication was possible by ordinary means
between the invested city and the rest of France, in arms to repel the
odious invader. With Paris rendered mute by its isolation, one might
have said that the heart of the country had ceased to beat. For
communication between those within and friends without, recourse was
had to balloons and pigeons.
“Certain persons of dauntless courage left Paris by balloon, choosing
especially the night-time for their departure in order to avoid
encounter by day. They carried with them despatches from Paris and a
number of carrier-pigeons. Over the enemy camps they went, to alight
somewhere, far or near, at the pleasure of the winds. Thus the
provinces received despatches, newspapers, and private letters from
Paris. The car of the balloon was loaded with all these.
“But how carry back to Paris despatches from the provinces? To leave a
city by balloon in any chance direction is not so very difficult; but
to return by balloon to the same city is practically impossible. The
balloon goes as the wind wills, not as its passengers would like to
have it go. To seek to return by the means employed in departing would
be to compromise everything by incurring the risk of landing in the
midst of the Prussian lines.
“The only remaining expedient was to use those incomparable aids, the
pigeons, which the aëronaut had taken with him on his departure.
Released, one at a time, with despatches enclosed in a quill and
fastened to the bird’s tail, they flew back over the German army to the
pigeon-house; they reëntered Paris and brought news of what was going
on in the provinces.
“Do not imagine that the winged messenger was able to transmit only a
few words or at most a few lines. It was not with a pen or on ordinary
paper that the despatches entrusted to the pigeons were written. By
ingenious methods and with unheard-of delicacy it was found possible to
obtain characters so fine and sheets of paper so thin that a roll of
these sheets weighing scarcely a gram and enclosed in a quill contained
as much reading matter as ten printed volumes. What a marvelous piece
of work, that package of letters fastened to the pigeon’s tail, that
quill transformed into a library in which thousands of persons—friends,
kinsfolk, statesmen—communicated their projects, their fears, their
hopes! In this manner the mail service was maintained during those
woeful times.”