MANDARIN, FLA., Feb. 29, 1872.
This twenty-ninth day of February is a day made on purpose for a
fishing-party. A day that comes only once in four years certainly ought
to be good for something; and this is as good a day for picnicking up
Julington as if it had been bespoken four years ahead. A bright sun, a
blue sky, a fresh, strong breeze upon the water,--these are Nature's
contributions. Art contributes two trim little white yachts, "The
Nelly" and "The Bessie," and three row-boats. Down we all troop to the
landing with our luncheon-baskets, kerosene-stove, tea-kettle, and
coffee-pot, baskets of oranges, and fishing-reels.
Out flutter the sails, and away we go. No danger to-day of being left in
the lurch in the middle of the river. There is all the breeze one wants,
and a little more than the timorous love; and we go rippling and racing
through the water in merry style. The spray flies, so that we need our
water-proofs and blankets; but the more the merrier. We sweep gallantly
first by the cottage of your whilom editor in "The Union," and get a
friendly salute; and then flutter by D----'s cottage, and wave our
handkerchiefs, and get salutes in return. Now we round the point, and
Julington opens her wide blue arms to receive us. We pass by Neighbor
H----'s, and again wave our handkerchiefs, and get answering salutes.
We run up to the wharf to secure another boat and oarsman in the person
of Neighbor P----, and away we fly up Julington. A creek it is called,
but fully as wide as the Connecticut at Hartford, and wooded to the
water on either side by these glorious Florida forests.
It is a late, backward spring for Florida; and so these forests are
behindhand with their foliage: yet so largely do they consist of bright
polished evergreen trees, that the eye scarcely feels the need of the
deciduous foliage on which the bright misty green of spring lies like an
uncertain vapor. There is a large admixture in the picture of the cool
tints of the gray moss, which drapes every tree, and hangs in long
pendent streamers waving in the wind. The shores of the creek now begin
to be lined on either side with tracts of a water-lily which the natives
call bonnets. The blossom is like that of our yellow pond-lily; but the
leaves are very broad and beautiful as they float like green islands on
the blue waters. Here and there, even in the centre of the creek, are
patches of them intermingled with quantities of the water-lettuce,--a
floating plant which abounds in these tracts. Along the edges of these
water-lily patches are the favorite haunts of the fish, who delight to
find shelter among the green leaves. So the yachts come to anchor; and
the party divides into the three row-boats, and prepares to proceed to
business.
We have some bustle in distributing our stove and tea-kettle and
lunch-baskets to the different boats, as we are to row far up stream,
and, when we have caught our dinner, land, and cook it. I sit in the
bow, and, being good for nothing in the fishing-line, make myself of
service by holding the French coffee-pot in my lap. The tea-kettle being
at my feet on one side, the stove on the other, and the luncheon-basket
in full view in front, I consider myself as, in a sense, at
housekeeping. Meanwhile the fishing-reels are produced, the lines
thrown; and the professional fishermen and fisherwomen become all
absorbed in their business. We row slowly along the bobbing, undulating
field of broad green bonnet-leaves, and I deliver myself to speculations
on Nature. The roots of these water-lilies, of the size of a man's arm,
often lie floating for yards on the surface, and, with their scaly
joints, look like black serpents. The ribbed and shining leaves, as they
float out upon the water, are very graceful. One is struck with a
general similarity in the plant and animal growths in these regions: the
element of grotesqueness seems largely to enter into it. Roots of plants
become scaly, contorted, and lie in convolutions like the coils of a
serpent. Such are the palmetto-shrubs, whose roots lie in scaly folds
along the ground, catching into the earth by strong rootlets, and then
rising up here and there into tall, waving green fans, whose graceful
beauty in the depths of these forests one is never tired of admiring.
Amid this serpent-like and convoluted jungle of scaly roots, how natural
to find the scaly alligator, looking like an animated form of the
grotesque vegetable world around! Sluggish, unwieldy, he seems a
half-developed animal, coming up from a plant,--perhaps a link from
plant to animal. In memory, perhaps, of a previous woodland life, he
fills his stomach with pine-knots, and bits of board, wherever he can
find one to chew. It is his way of taking tobacco. I have been with a
hunter who dissected one of these creatures, and seen him take from his
stomach a mass of mingled pine-knots, with bits of brick, worn smooth,
as if the digestive fluids had somewhat corroded them. The fore leg and
paw of the alligator has a pitiful and rather shocking resemblance to a
black human hand; and the muscular power is so great, that in case of
the particular alligator I speak of, even after his head was taken off,
when the incision was made into the pectoral muscle for the purpose of
skinning, this black hand and arm rose up, and gave the operator quite a
formidable push in the chest.
We hope to see some of these creatures out; but none appear. The
infrequency of their appearance marks the lateness and backwardness of
our spring. There!--a cry of victory is heard from the forward boat; and
Mademoiselle Nelly is seen energetically working her elbows: a scuffle
ensues, and the captive has a free berth on a boat, without charge for
passage-ticket. We shout like people who are getting hungry, as in truth
we are. And now Elsie starts in our boat; and all is commotion, till a
fine blue bream, spotted with black, is landed. Next a large black
trout, with his wide yellow mouth, comes up unwillingly from the
crystal flood. We pity them; but what are we to do? It is a question
between dinner and dinner. These fish, out marketing on their own
account, darted at our hook, expecting to catch another fish. We catch
them; and, instead of eating, they are eaten.
After all, the instinct of hunting and catching something is as strong
in the human breast as in that of cat or tiger; and we all share the
exultation which sends a shout from boat to boat as a new acquisition is
added to our prospective dinner-store.
And now right in front of us looms up from the depth of a group of pines
and magnolias a white skeleton of a tree, with gnarled arms, bleached by
years of wind and sun, swathed with long waving folds of gray moss. On
the very tip-top of this, proudly above all possibility of capture, a
fish-hawk's nest is built. Full eighty feet in the air, and about the
size of a flour-barrel; built like an old marauding baron's stronghold
in the middle ages, in inaccessible fastnesses; lined within and swathed
without with gray moss,--it is a splendid post of observation. We can
see the white head and shoulders of the bird perched upon her nest; and
already they perceive us. The pair rise and clap their wings, and
discourse to each other with loud, shrill cries, perhaps of indignation,
that we who have houses to dwell in, and beef and chickens to eat,
should come up and invade their fishing-grounds.
The fish-hawk--I beg his pardon, the fish-eagle; for I can see that he
is a bird of no mean size and proportions--has as good a right to think
that the river and the fish were made for him as we; and better too,
because the Creator has endowed him with wonderful eyesight, which
enables him, from the top of a tree eighty feet high, to search the
depths of the river, mark his prey, and dive down with unerring
certainty to it. He has his charter in his eyes, his beak, his claws;
and doubtless he has a right to remonstrate, when we, who have neither
eyes, beaks, nor claws adapted to the purpose, manage to smuggle away
his dinner. Thankful are we that no mighty hunter is aboard, and that
the atrocity of shooting a bird on her nest will not be perpetrated
here. We are a harmless company, and mean so well by them, that they
really might allow us one dinner out of their larder.
We have rowed as far up Julington as is expedient, considering that we
have to row down again; and so we land in the immediate vicinity of our
fish-eagle's fortress, greatly to his discontent. Wild, piercing cries
come to us now and then from the heights of the eyry; but we, unmoved,
proceed with our dinner-preparations.
Do you want to know the best way in the world of cooking fish? Then
listen.
The fish are taken to the river by one, and simply washed of their
superfluous internals, though by no means scaled. A moment prepares them
for the fire. Meanwhile a broad hole has been dug in the smooth white
sand; and a fire of dry light wood is merrily crackling therein. The
kerosene-stove is set a-going; the tea-kettle filled, and put on to
boil; when we disperse to examine the palmetto-jungles. One or two
parties take to the boats, and skim a little distance up stream, where
was a grove of youthful palmetto-trees. The palmetto-shrub is
essentially a different variety from the tree. In moist, rich land, the
shrub rears a high head, and looks as if it were trying to become a
tree; but it never does it. The leaf, also, is essentially different.
The full-grown palm-leaf is three or four yards long, curiously plaited
and folded. In the centre of both palmetto and palm is the bud from
whence all future leaves spring, rising like a green spike. This bud is
in great request for palmetto-hats; and all manner of palm-work; and it
was for these buds that our boating-party was going. A venturesome boy,
by climbing a neighboring tree and jumping into the palm, can succeed in
securing this prize, though at some risk of life and limb. Our party
returned with two palm-buds about two yards long, and one or two of the
long, graceful leaves.
But now the fire has burned low, and the sand-hole is thoroughly heated.
"Bring me," says the presiding cook, "any quantity of those great broad
bonnet-leaves." And forth impetuous rush the youth; and bonnet-leaves
cool and dripping are forthcoming, wherewith we double-line the hole in
the sand. Then heads and points, compactly folded, go in a line of
fish, and are covered down green and comfortable with a double blanket
of dripping bonnet-leaves. Then, with a flat board for our shovel, we
rake back first the hot sand, and then the coals and brands yet
remaining of the fire. Watches are looked at; and it is agreed by old
hands experienced in clam-bakes that half an hour shall be given to
complete our dinner.
Meanwhile the steaming tea-kettle calls for coffee, and the French
coffee-pot receives its fragrant store; while the fish-hawk, from his
high tower of observation, interjects plaintive notes of remonstrance. I
fancy him some hoarse old moralist, gifted with uncomfortable
keen-sightedness, forever shrieking down protests on the ways of the
thoughtless children of men.
What are we doing to those good fish of his, which he could prepare for
the table in much shorter order? An old hunter who has sometimes
explored the ground under the fish-hawk's nest says that bushels of
fish-bones may be found there, neatly picked, testifying to the
excellent appetite which prevails in those cloud-regions, and to the
efficiency of the plan of eating fish _au naturel_.
We wander abroad, and find great blue and white violets and
swamp-azaleas along the river's brink; and we take advantage of the not
very dense shade of a long-leaved pine to set out the contents of our
luncheon-baskets. Ham-sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, cakes in tempting
variety, jellies and fruits, make their appearance in a miscellaneous
sort of way. And now comes the great operation of getting out our fish.
Without shovel, other than a bit of inflammable pine-board, the thing
presents evident difficulties: but it must be done; and done it is.
A platter is improvised of two large palmetto-leaves. The fire is raked
off, and the fish emerge from their baking-place, somewhat the worse as
to external appearance; but we bear them off to the feast. In the trial
process we find that the whole external part of the fish--scales, skin,
and fins--comes off, leaving the meat white and pure, and deliciously
juicy. A bit well salted and peppered is forthwith transferred to each
plate; and all agree that never fish was better and sweeter. Then coffee
is served round; and we feast, and are merry. When the meal is over, we
arrange our table for the benefit of the fish-hawks. The fragments of
fish yet remaining, bits of bread and cake and cheese, are all
systematically arranged for him to take his luncheon after we are gone.
Mr. Bergh himself could not ask more exemplary conduct.
For now the westering sun warns us that it is time to be spreading our
sails homeward; and, well pleased all, we disperse ourselves into our
respective boats, to fish again as we pass the lily-pads on the shore.
The sport engages every one on board except myself, who, sitting in the
end of the boat, have leisure to observe the wonderful beauty of the
sky, the shadows of the forests-belts in the water, and the glorious
trees.
One magnolia I saw that deserved to be called an archangel among the
sons of the forest. Full a hundred feet high it stood, with a trunk
rising straight, round, and branchless for full fifty feet, and crowned
with a glorious head of rich, dark, shining leaves. When its
lily-blossoms awake, what a glory will it become, all alone out there in
the silent forest, with only God to see!