"I'd rather capture Old Abe," said Gen. Sterling Price, of the
Confederate Army, "than a whole brigade."
"Old Abe" was the live war Eagle which accompanied the Eighth Wisconsin
regiment during the War of the Rebellion. Much of a more or less
problematical character has been written about him, but what we regard
as authentic we shall present in this article. Old Abe was a fine
specimen of the Bald Eagle, very like the one figured in this number of
BIRDS. Various stories are told of his capture, but the most trustworthy
account is that Chief Sky, a Chippewa Indian, took him from the nest
while an Eaglet. The nest was found on a pine tree in the Chippewa
country, about three miles from the mouth of the Flambeau, near some
rapids in the river. He and another Indian cut the tree down, and, amid
the menaces of the parent birds, secured two young Eagles about the size
of Prairie Hens. One of them died. The other, which lived to become
historical, was sold to Daniel McCann for a bushel of corn. McCann
carried it to Eau Claire, and presented it to a company then being
organized as a part of the Eighth Wisconsin Infantry.
What more appropriate emblem than the American Bald-headed Bird could
have been thus selected by the patriots who composed this regiment of
freemen! The Golden Eagle (of which we shall hereafter present a
splendid specimen,) with extended wings, was the ensign of the Persian
monarchs, long before it was adopted by the Romans. And the Persians
borrowed the symbol from the Assyrians. In fact, the symbolical use of
the Eagle is of very remote antiquity. It was the insignia of Egypt, of
the Etruscans, was the sacred bird of the Hindoos, and of the Greeks,
who connected him with Zeus, their supreme deity. With the Scandinavians
the Eagle is the bird of wisdom. The double-headed Eagle was in use
among the Byzantine emperors, "to indicate their claims to the empire of
both the east and the west." It was adopted in the 14th century by the
German emperors. The arms of Prussia were distinguished by the Black
Eagle, and those of Poland by the White. The great Napoleon adopted it
as the emblem of Imperial France.
Old Abe was called by the soldiers the "new recruit from Chippewa," and
sworn into the service of the United States by encircling his neck with
red, white, and blue ribbons, and by placing on his breast a rosette of
colors, after which he was carried by the regiment into every engagement
in which it participated, perched upon a shield in the shape of a heart.
A few inches above the shield was a grooved crosspiece for the Eagle to
rest upon, on either end of which were three arrows. When in line Old
Abe was always carried on the left of the color bearer, in the van of
the regiment. The color bearer wore a belt to which was attached a
socket for the end of the staff, which was about five feet in length.
Thus the Eagle was high above the bearer's head, in plain sight of the
column. A ring of leather was fastened to one of the Eagle's legs to
which was connected a strong hemp cord about twenty feet long.
Old Abe was the hero of about twenty-five battles, and as many
skirmishes. Remarkable as it may appear, not one bearer of the flag, or
of the Eagle, always shining marks for the enemy's rifles, was ever shot
down. Once or twice Old Abe suffered the loss of a few feathers, but he
was never wounded.
The great bird enjoyed the excitement of carnage. In battle he flapped
his wings, his eyes blazed, and with piercing screams, which arose above
the noise of the conflict, seemed to urge the company on to deeds of
valor.
David McLane, who was the first color bearer to carry him into battle,
said:
"Old Abe, like all old soldiers, seemed to dread the sound of musketry
but with the roll of artillery he appeared to be in his glory. Then he
screamed, spread his wings at every discharge, and reveled in the roar
and smoke of the big guns." A correspondent who watched him closely said
that when a battle had fairly begun Old Abe jumped up and down on his
perch with such wild and fearful screams as an eagle alone can utter.
The louder the battle, the fiercer and wilder were his screams.
Old Abe varied his voice in accord with his emotions. When surprised he
whistled a wild melody of a melancholy softness; when hovering over his
food he gave a spiteful chuckle; when pleased to see an old friend he
seemed to say: "How do you do?" with a plaintive cooing. In battle his
scream was wild and commanding, a succession of five or six notes with a
startling trill that was inspiring to the soldiers. Strangers could not
approach or touch him with safety, though members of the regiment who
treated him with kindness were cordially recognized by him. Old Abe had
his particular friends, as well as some whom he regarded as his enemies.
There were men in the company whom he would not permit to approach him.
He would fly at and tear them with his beak and talons. But he would
never fight his bearer. He knew his own regiment from every other, would
always accompany its cheer, and never that of any other regiment.
Old Abe more than once escaped, but was always lured by food to return.
He never seemed disposed to depart to the blue empyrean, his ancestral
home.
Having served three years, a portion of the members of Company C were
mustered out, and Old Abe was presented to the state of Wisconsin. For
many years, on occasions of public exercise or review, like other
illustrious veterans, he excited in parade universal and enthusiastic
attention.
He occupied pleasant quarters in the State Capitol at Madison,
Wisconsin, until his death at an advanced age.
[Illustration: From col. F. M. Woodruff.
SNOWY HERON OR LITTLE EGRET.
CHICAGO COLORTYPE CO.]