we march to the woods. "Don't mind the boys, my dear sir," says the
woodsman, "follow me close, for the ground is covered with logs, and the
grape-vines hang everywhere across. Toby, hold up the light, man, or
we'll never see the gullies. Trail your gun, sir, as General Clark used
to say--not so, but this way--that's it; now then, no danger, you see;
no fear of snakes, poor things! They are stiff enough, I'll be bound.
The dogs have treed one. Toby, you old fool, why don't you turn to the
right?--not so much; there--go ahead, and give us light. What's that?
Who's there? Ah, you young rascals! you've played us a trick, have you?
It's all well enough, but now just keep behind, or I'll--" And, in fact,
the boys, with eyes good enough to see in the dark, although not quite
so well as an Owl's, had cut directly across the dogs, which had
surprised a Raccoon on the ground, and bayed it until the lads knocked
it on the head. "Seek him, boys!" cried the hunter. The dogs, putting
their noses to the ground, pushed off at a good rate. "Master, they're
making for the creek," says old Toby. On towards it therefore we push.
What woods, to be sure! No gentleman's park this, I assure you, reader.
We are now in a low flat; the soil thinly covers the hard clay; nothing
but beech-trees hereabouts, unless now and then a maple. Hang the limbs!
say I--hang the supple-jacks too--here I am, fast by the neck; cut it
with your knife. My knee has had a tremendous rub against a log; now my
foot is jammed between two roots; and here I stick. "Toby, come back;
don't you know the stranger is not up to the woods? Halloo, Toby, Toby!"
There I stood perfectly shackled, the hunter laughing heartily, and the
lads glad of an opportunity of slipping off. Toby arrived, and held the
torch near the ground, on which the hunter, cutting one of the roots
with his hatchet, set me free. "Are you hurt, sir?"--"No, not in the
least." Off we start again. The boys had got up with the dogs, which
were baying a Raccoon in a small puddle. We soon joined them with the
light. "Now, stranger, watch and see!" The Raccoon was all but swimming,
and yet had hold of the bottom of the pool with his feet. The glare of
the lighted torch was doubtless distressing to him; his coat was
ruffled, and his rounded tail seemed thrice its ordinary size; his eyes
shone like emeralds; with foaming jaws he watched the dogs, ready to
seize each by the snout if it came within reach. They kept him busy for
several minutes; the water became thick with mud; his coat now hung
dripping, and his draggled tail lay floating on the surface. His
guttural growlings, in place of intimidating his assailants excited them
the more; and they very unceremoniously closed upon him, curs as they
were, and without the breeding of gentle dogs. One seized him by the
rump, and tugged, but was soon forced to let go; another stuck to his
side, but soon taking a better directed bite of his muzzle than another
dog had just done of his tail, Coon made him yelp; and pitiful were the
cries of luckless Tyke. The Raccoon would not let go, but in the mean
time the other dogs seized him fast, and worried him to death, yet to
the last he held by his antagonist's snout. Knocked on the head by an
axe, he lay gasping his last breath, and the heaving of his chest was
painful to see. The hunters stood gazing at him in the pool, while all
around was by the flare of the torch rendered trebly dark and dismal. It
was a good scene for a skilful painter.
We had now two Coons, whose furs were worth two quarters of a dollar,
and whose bodies, which I must not forget, as Toby informed us, were
worth two more. "What now?" I asked. "What now?" quoth the father; "why,
go after more, to be sure." So we did, the dogs ahead, and I far behind.
In a short time the curs treed another, and when we came up, we found
them seated on their haunches, looking upwards, and barking. The
hunters now employed their axes, and sent the chips about at such a rate
that one of them coming in contact with my cheek, marked it so that a
week after several of my friends asked me where, in the name of wonder,
I had got that black eye. At length the tree began to crack, and slowly
leaning to one side, the heavy mass swung rustling through the air, and
fell to the earth with a crash. It was not one Coon that was surprised
here, but three--ay, three of them, one of which, more crafty than the
rest, leaped fairly from the main top while the tree was staggering. The
other two stuck to the hollow of a branch, from which they were soon
driven by one of the dogs. Tyke and Lion, having nosed the cunning old
one, scampered after him, not mouthing like the well-trained hounds of
our southern Fox-hunters, but yelling like furies. The hunter's sons
attacked those on the tree, while the woodsman and I, preceded by Toby,
made after the other; and busy enough we all were. Our animal was of
extraordinary size, and after some parley, a rifle-ball was sent through
his brain. He reeled once only; next moment he lay dead. The rest were
despatched by the axe and the club, for a shot in those days was too
valuable to be spent when it could be saved. It could procure a Deer,
and therefore was worth more than a Coon's skin.
Now, look at the moon! how full and clear has she risen on the Raccoon
hunters! Now is the time for sport! Onward we go, one following the long
shadow of his precursor. The twigs are no impediment, and we move at a
brisker pace, as we return to the hills. What a hue and cry! here are
the dogs. Overhead and all around, on the forks of each tree, the
hunter's keen eye searches for something round, which is likely to prove
a coiled-up Raccoon. There's one! Between me and the moon I spied the
cunning thing crouched in silence. After taking aim, I raise my barrel
ever so little, the trigger is pressed; down falls the Raccoon to the
ground. Another and another are on the same tree. Off goes a bullet,
then a second; and we secure the prey. "Let us go home, stranger," says
the woodsman; and contented with our sport, towards his cabin we trudge.
On arriving there, we find a cheerful fire. Toby stays without, prepares
the game, stretches the skins on a frame of cane, and washes the bodies.
The table is already set; the cake and the potatoes are all well done;
four bowls of buttermilk are ranged in order, and now the hunters fall
to.
The Raccoon is a cunning animal, and makes a pleasant pet. Monkey-like,
it is quite dexterous in the use of its fore-feet, and it will amble
after its master, in the manner of a Bear, and even follow him into the
street. It is fond of eggs, but prefers them raw, and it matters not
whether it be morning, noon, or night when it finds a dozen in the
pheasant's nest, or one placed in your pocket to please him. He knows
the habits of mussels better than most conchologists. Being an expert
climber he ascends to the hole of the Woodpecker, and devours the young
birds. He knows, too, how to watch the soft-shelled Turtle's crawl, and,
better still, how to dig up her eggs. Now, by the edge of the pond,
grimalkin-like, he lies seemingly asleep, until the Summer-Duck comes
within reach. No negro knows better when the corn is juicy and pleasant
to eat; and although Squirrels and Woodpeckers know this too, the
Raccoon is found in the corn-field longer in the season than any of
them, the havoc he commits there amounting to a tithe. His fur is good
in winter, and many think his flesh good also; but for my part, I prefer
a live Raccoon to a dead one; and should find more pleasure in hunting
one than in eating him.
PITTING OF WOLVES
There seems to be a universal feeling of hostility among men against the
Wolf, whose strength, agility, and cunning, which latter is scarcely
inferior to that of his relative, Master Reynard, tend to render him an
object of hatred, especially to the husbandman, on whose flocks he is
ever apt to commit depredations. In America, where this animal was
formerly abundant, and in many parts of which it still occurs in
considerable numbers, it is not more mercifully dealt with than in other
parts of the world. Traps and snares of all sorts are set for catching
it, while dogs and horses are trained for hunting the Fox. The Wolf,
however, unless in some way injured, being more powerful and perhaps
better winded than the Fox, is rarely pursued with hounds or any other
dogs in open chase; but as his depredations are at times extensive and
highly injurious to the farmer, the greatest exertions have been used to
exterminate his race. Few instances have occurred among us of any attack
made by Wolves on man, and only one has come under my own notice.
Two young negroes who resided near the banks of the Ohio, in the lower
part of the state of Kentucky, about twenty-three years ago, had
sweethearts living on a plantation ten miles distant. After the labors
of the day were over, they frequently visited the fair ladies of their
choice, the nearest way to whose dwelling lay directly across a great
cane-brake. As to the lover every moment is precious, they usually took
this route to save time. Winter had commenced, cold, dark, and
forbidding, and after sunset scarcely a glimpse of light or glow of
warmth, one might imagine, could be found in that dreary swamp,
excepting in the eyes and bosoms of the ardent youths, or the hungry
Wolves that prowled about. The snow covered the earth, and rendered them
more easy to be scented from a distance by the famished beasts. Prudent
in a certain degree, the young lovers carried their axes on their
shoulders, and walked as briskly as the narrow path would allow. Some
transient glimpses of light now and then met their eyes, but so faint
were they that they believed them to be caused by their faces coming in
contact with the slender reeds covered with snow. Suddenly, however, a
long and frightful howl burst upon them, and they instantly knew that it
proceeded from a troop of hungry, perhaps desperate Wolves. They
stopped, and putting themselves in an attitude of defence, awaited the
result. All around was dark, save a few feet of snow, and the silence of
night was dismal. Nothing could be done to better their situation, and
after standing a few minutes in expectation of an attack, they judged it
best to resume their march; but no sooner had they replaced their axes
on their shoulders and begun to move, than the foremost found himself
assailed by several foes. His legs were held fast as if pressed by a
powerful screw, and the torture inflicted by the fangs of the ravenous
animal was for a moment excruciating. Several Wolves in the meantime
sprung upon the breast of the other negro, and dragged him to the
ground. Both struggled manfully against their foes; but in a short time
one of them ceased to move, and the other, reduced in strength, and
perhaps despairing of maintaining his ground, still more of aiding his
unfortunate companion, sprung to the branch of a tree, and speedily
gained a place of safety near the top. The next morning the mangled
remains of his comrade lay scattered around on the snow, which was
stained with blood. Three dead Wolves lay around, but the rest of the
pack had disappeared, and Scipio, sliding to the ground, took up the
axes, and made the best of his way home, to relate the sad adventure.
About two years after this occurrence, as I was travelling between
Henderson and Vincennes, I chanced to stop for the night at a farmer's
house by the side of the road. After putting up my horse and refreshing
myself, I entered into conversation with mine host, who asked if I
should like to pay a visit to the Wolf-pits, which were about half a
mile distant. Glad of the opportunity I accompanied him across the
fields to the neighborhood of a deep wood, and soon saw the engines of
destruction. He had three pits, within a few hundred yards of each
other. They were about eight feet deep and broader at bottom, so as to
render it impossible for the most active animal to escape from them. The
aperture was covered with a revolving platform of twigs attached to a
central axis. On either surface of the platform was fastened a large
piece of putrid venison, with other matters by no means pleasing to my
olfactory nerves, although no doubt attractive to the Wolves. My
companion wished to visit them that evening, merely as he was in the
habit of doing so daily, for the purpose of seeing that all was right.
He said that Wolves were very abundant that autumn, and had killed
nearly the whole of his sheep and one of his colts, but that he was now
"paying them off in full;" and added that if I would tarry a few hours
with him next morning, he would beyond a doubt show me some sport rarely
seen in those parts. We retired to rest in due time, and were up with
the dawn.
"I think," said my host, "that all's right, for I see the dogs are
anxious to get away to the pits, and although they are nothing but curs,
their noses are none the worse for that." As he took up his gun, an axe,
and a large knife, the dogs began to howl and bark, and whisked around
us, as if full of joy. When we reached the first pit, we found the bait
all gone, and the platform much injured; but the animal that had been
entrapped had scraped a subterranean passage for himself, and so
escaped. On peeping into the next, he assured me that "three famous
fellows were safe enough" in it. I also peeped in and saw the Wolves,
two black, and the other brindled, all of goodly size, sure enough. They
lay flat on the earth, their ears laid close over the head, their eyes
indicating fear more than anger. "But how are we to get them out?" "How,
sir?" said the farmer; "why, by going down, to be sure, and hamstringing
them." Being a novice in these matters, I begged to be merely a
looker-on. "With all my heart," quoth the farmer; "stand here and look
at me through the brush." Whereupon he glided down, taking with him his
axe and knife, and leaving his rifle to my care. I was not a little
surprised to see the cowardice of the Wolves. He pulled out successively
their hind legs, and with a side stroke of the knife cut the principal
tendon above the joint, exhibiting as little fear as if he had been
marking lambs.
"Lo!" exclaimed the farmer, when he had got out, "we have forgotten the
rope; I'll go after it." Off he went accordingly, with as much alacrity
as any youngster could show. In a short time he returned out of breath,
and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand--"Now for it." I was
desired to raise and hold the platform on its central balance, whilst
he, with all the dexterity of an Indian, threw a noose over the neck of
one of the Wolves. We hauled it up motionless with fright, as if dead,
its disabled legs swinging to and fro, its jaws wide open, and the
gurgle in its throat alone indicating that it was alive. Letting him
drop on the ground, the farmer loosened the rope by means of a stick,
and left him to the dogs, all of which set upon him with great fury and
soon worried him to death. The second was dealt with in the same manner;
but the third, which was probably the oldest, as it was the blackest,
showed some spirit the moment it was left loose to the mercy of the
curs. This Wolf, which we afterwards found to be a female, scuffled
along on its fore-legs at a surprising rate, giving a snap every now and
then to the nearest dog, which went off howling dismally, with a
mouthful of skin torn from its side. And so well did the furious beast
defend itself, that apprehensive of its escape, the farmer levelled his
rifle at it, and shot it through the heart, on which the curs rushed
upon it, and satiated their vengeance on the destroyer of their master's
flock.
THE OPOSSUM
This singular animal is found more or less abundant in most parts of the
Southern, Western, and Middle States of the Union. It is the _Didelphis
virginiana_ of Pennant, Harlan, and other authors who have given some
accounts of its habits; but as none of them, so far as I know, have
illustrated its propensity to dissimulate, and as I have had
opportunities of observing its manners, I trust that a few particulars
of its biography will prove amusing.
The Opossum is fond of secluding itself during the day, although it by
no means confines its predatory rangings to the night. Like many other
quadrupeds which feed principally on flesh, it is also both frugivorous
and herbivorous, and, when very hard pressed by hunger, it seizes
various kinds of insects and reptiles. Its gait, while travelling, and
at a time when it supposes itself unobserved, is altogether ambling; in
other words, it, like a young foal, moves the two legs of one side
forward at once. The Newfoundland dog manifests a similar propensity.
Having a constitution as hardy as that of the most northern animals, it
stands the coldest weather, and does not hibernate, although its
covering of fur and hair may be said to be comparatively scanty even
during winter. The defect, however, seems to be compensated by a skin of
considerable thickness, and a general subcutaneous layer of fat. Its
movements are usually rather slow, and as it walks or ambles along, its
curious prehensile tail is carried just above the ground, its rounded
ears are directed forward, and at almost every step its pointed nose is
applied to the objects beneath it, in order to discover what sort of
creatures may have crossed its path. Methinks I see one at this moment
slowly and cautiously trudging over the melting snows by the side of an
unfrequented pond, nosing as it goes for the fare its ravenous appetite
prefers. Now it has come upon the fresh track of a Grouse or Hare, and
it raises its snout and snuffs the keen air. At length it has decided on
its course, and it speeds onward at the rate of a man's ordinary walk.
It stops and seems at a loss in what direction to go, for the object of
its pursuit has either taken a considerable leap or has cut backwards
before the Opossum entered its track. It raises itself up, stands for a
while on its hind feet, looks around, snuffs the air again, and then
proceeds; but now, at the foot of a noble tree, it comes to a full
stand. It walks round the base of the huge trunk, over the snow-covered
roots, and among them finds an aperture which it at once enters. Several
minutes elapse, when it re-appears, dragging along a Squirrel already
deprived of life, with which in its mouth it begins to ascend the tree.
Slowly it climbs. The first fork does not seem to suit it, for perhaps
it thinks it might there be too openly exposed to the view of some wily
foe; and so it proceeds, until it gains a cluster of branches
intertwined with grape-vines, and there composing itself, it twists its
tail round one of the twigs, and with its sharp teeth demolishes the
unlucky Squirrel, which it holds all the while with its fore-paws.
The pleasant days of spring have arrived, and the trees vigorously shoot
forth their buds; but the Opossum is almost bare, and seems nearly
exhausted by hunger. It visits the margins of creeks, and is pleased to
see the young frogs, which afford it a tolerable repast. Gradually the
poke-berry and the nettle shoot up, and on their tender and juicy stems
it gladly feeds. The matin calls of the Wild Turkey Cock delight the ear
of the cunning creature, for it well knows that it will soon hear the
female and trace her to her nest, when it will suck the eggs with
delight. Travelling through the woods, perhaps on the ground, perhaps
aloft, from tree to tree, it hears a cock crow, and its heart swells as
it remembers the savory food on which it regaled itself last summer in
the neighboring farm-yard. With great care, however, it advances, and at
last conceals itself in the very hen-house.
Honest farmer! why did you kill so many Crows last winter? ay and Ravens
too? Well, you have had your own way of it; but now hie to the village
and procure a store of ammunition, clean your rusty gun, set your traps,
and teach your lazy curs to watch the Opossum. There it comes. The sun
is scarcely down, but the appetite of the prowler is keen; hear the
screams of one of your best chickens that has been seized by him! The
cunning beast is off with it, and nothing can now be done, unless you
stand there to watch the Fox or the Owl, now exulting in the thought
that you have killed their enemy and your own friend, the poor Crow.
That precious hen under which you last week placed a dozen eggs or so is
now deprived of them. The Opossum, notwithstanding her angry outcries
and rufflings of feathers, has removed them one by one, and now look at
the poor bird as she moves across your yard; if not mad, she is at least
stupid, for she scratches here and there, calling to her chickens all
the while. All this comes from your shooting Crows. Had you been more
merciful or more prudent, the Opossum might have been kept within the
woods, where it would have been satisfied with a Squirrel, a young Hare,
the eggs of a Turkey, or the grapes that so profusely adorn the boughs
of our forest trees. But I talk to you in vain.
There cannot be a better exemplification of maternal tenderness than the
female Opossum. Just peep into that curious sack in which the young are
concealed, each attached to a teat. The kind mother not only nourishes
them with care, but preserves them from their enemies; she moves with
them as the shark does with its progeny, and now, aloft on the
tulip-tree, she hides among the thick foliage. By the end of two months
they begin to shift for themselves; each has been taught its particular
lesson, and must now practise it.
But suppose the farmer has surprised an Opossum in the act of killing
one of his best fowls. His angry feelings urge him to kick the poor
beast, which, conscious of its inability to resist, rolls off like a
ball. The more the farmer rages, the more reluctant is the animal to
manifest resentment; at last there it lies, not dead, but exhausted, its
jaws open, its tongue extended, its eye dimmed; and there it would lie
until the bottle-fly should come to deposit its eggs, did not its
tormentor at length walk off. "Surely," says he to himself, "the beast
must be dead." But no, reader, it is only "'possuming," and no sooner
has its enemy withdrawn than it gradually gets on its legs, and once
more makes for the woods.
Once, while descending the Mississippi, in a sluggish flat-bottomed
boat, expressly for the purpose of studying those objects of nature more
nearly connected with my favorite pursuits, I chanced to meet with two
well-grown Opossums, and brought them alive to the "ark." The poor
things were placed on the roof or deck, and were immediately assailed by
the crew, when, following their natural instinct, they lay as if quite
dead. An experiment was suggested, and both were thrown overboard. On
striking the water, and for a few moments after, neither evinced the
least disposition to move; but finding their situation desperate, they
began to swim towards our uncouth rudder, which was formed of a long
slender tree, extending from the middle of the boat thirty feet beyond
its stern. They both got upon it, were taken up, and afterwards let
loose in their native woods.
In the year 1829, I was in a portion of lower Louisiana, where the
Opossum abounds at all seasons, and having been asked by the President
and the Secretary of the Zooelogical Society of London, to forward live
animals of this species to them, I offered a price a little above the
common, and soon found myself plentifully supplied, twenty-five having
been brought to me. I found them excessively voracious, and not less
cowardly. They were put into a large box, with a great quantity of food,
and conveyed to a steamer bound for New Orleans. Two days afterwards, I
went to that city, to see about sending them off to Europe; but, to my
surprise, I found that the old males had destroyed the younger ones, and
eaten off their heads, and that only sixteen remained alive. A separate
box was purchased for each, and some time after they reached my friends,
the Rathbones of Liverpool, who, with their usual attention, sent them
off to London, where, on my return, I saw a good number of them in the
Zooelogical Gardens.
This animal is fond of grapes, of which a species now bears its name.
Persimmons are greedily eaten by it, and in severe weather I have
observed it eating lichens. Fowls of every kind, and quadrupeds less
powerful than itself, are also its habitual prey.
The flesh of the Opossum resembles that of a young pig, and would
perhaps be as highly prized, were it not for the prejudice generally
entertained against it. Some "very particular" persons, to my knowledge,
have pronounced it excellent eating. After cleaning its body, suspend it
for a whole week in the frosty air, for it is not eaten in summer; then
place it on a heap of hot wood embers; sprinkle it when cooked with
gunpowder; and now tell me, good reader, does it not equal the famed
Canvas-back Duck? Should you visit any of our markets, you may see it
there in company with the best game.
A MAPLE-SUGAR CAMP