cover the undulating grounds in the vicinity of the Green River in
Kentucky, I was overtaken by night. With slow and cautious steps I
proceeded, feeling some doubt as to my course, when the moon came forth,
as if purposely to afford me her friendly light. The air I thought was
uncommonly keen, and the gentle breeze that now and then shook the tops
of the tall trees more than once made me think of halting for the night,
and forming a camp. At times I thought of the campaigns of my old
friend, Daniel Boone, his strange adventures in these very woods, and
the extraordinary walk which he performed to save his fellow creatures
at Fort Massacre from the scalping knives of the irritated Indians.[59]
Now and then a Raccoon or Opossum, causing the fallen leaves to rustle,
made me pause for a moment; and thus I was forcing my way, thinking on
many things dismal as well as pleasing, when the glimmer of a distant
fire suddenly aroused me from my reveries, and inspired me with fresh
animation. As I approached it, I observed forms of different kinds
moving to and fro before it, like spectres; and ere long, bursts of
laughter, shouts, and songs apprised me of some merry-making. I thought
at first I had probably stumbled upon a camp meeting; but I soon
perceived that the mirth proceeded from a band of sugar-makers. Every
man, woman, and child stared as I passed them, but all were friendly,
and, without more ceremony than was needful, I walked up to the fire, at
which I found two or three old women, with their husbands, attending to
the kettles. Their plain dresses of Kentucky homespun were far more
pleasing to my sight than the ribboned turbans of city dames, or the
powdered wigs and embroidered waistcoats of antique beaux. I was
heartily welcomed, and supplied with a goodly pone of bread, a plate of
molasses, and some sweet potatoes.
Fatigued with my long ramble, I lay down under the lee of the smoke, and
soon fell into a sound sleep. When day returned, the frost lay thick
around; but the party arose cheerful and invigorated, and after
performing their orisons, resumed their labor. The scenery was most
pleasing; the ground all round looked as if it had been cleared of
underwood; the maples, straight and tall, seemed as if planted in rows;
between them meandered several rills, which gently murmured as they
hastened toward the larger stream; and as the sun dissolved the frozen
dews the few feathered songsters joined the chorus of the woodsmen's
daughters. Whenever a burst of laughter suddenly echoed through the
woods, an Owl or Wild Turkey would respond to it, with a signal welcome
to the young men of the party. With large ladles the sugar-makers
stirred the thickening juice of the maple; pails of sap were collected
from the trees and brought in by the young people, while here and there
some sturdy fellow was seen first hacking a cut in a tree, and
afterwards boring with an auger a hole, into which he introduced a piece
of hollow cane, by which the sap was to be drained off. About half a
dozen men had felled a noble yellow poplar, and sawed its great trunk
into many pieces, which, after being split, they were scooping into
troughs to be placed under the cane-cocks, to receive the maple juice.
Now, good reader, should you ever chance to travel through the maple
grounds that lie near the banks of that lovely stream the Green River of
Kentucky, either in January or in March, or through those on the
broader Monongahela in April; nay, should you find yourself by the
limpid streamlets that roll down the declivities of the Pocano Mountains
to join the Lehigh, and there meet with a sugar camp, take my advice and
tarry for a while. If you be on foot or on horseback, and are thirsty,
you can nowhere find a more wholesome or more agreeable beverage than
the juice of the maple. A man when in the Floridas may drink molasses
diffused in water; in Labrador he may drink what he can get; and at New
York or Philadelphia he may drink what he chooses; but in the woods a
draught from the sugar maple is delicious and most refreshing. How
often, when travelling, have I quenched my thirst with the limpid juice
of the receiving-troughs, from which I parted with regret; nay, even my
horse, I have thought, seemed to desire to linger as long as he could.
But let me endeavor to describe to you the manner in which the sugar is
obtained. The trees that yield it (_Acer saccharinum_) are found more or
less abundantly in all parts of the United States from Louisiana to
Maine, growing on elevated rich grounds. An incision is made into the
trunk at a height of from two to six feet; a pipe of cane or of any
other kind is thrust into the aperture, a trough is placed beneath and
receives the juice, which trickles by drops, and is as limpid as the
purest spring water. When all the trees of a certain space have been
tapped, and the troughs filled, the people collect the juice, and pour
it into large vessels. A camp has already been pitched in the midst of a
grove; several iron boilers have been fixed on stone or brick supports,
and the business proceeds with vigor. At times several neighboring
families join, and enjoy the labor, as if it were a pastime, remaining
out day and night for several weeks; for the troughs and kettles must be
attended to from the moment when they are first put in requisition until
the sugar is produced. The men and boys perform the most laborious part
of the business, but the women and girls are not less busy.
It takes ten gallons of sap to produce a pound of fine-_grained sugar_;
but an inferior kind in lumps, called _cake sugar_, is obtained in
greater quantity. When the season is far advanced, the juice will no
longer grain by boiling, and only produces a syrup. I have seen maple
sugar so good, that some months after it was manufactured it resembled
candy; and well do I remember the time when it was an article of
commerce throughout Kentucky, where, twenty-five or thirty years ago, it
sold at from 61/2 to 121/2 cents per pound, according to its quality, and
was daily purchased in the markets or stores.
Trees that have been thus bored rarely last many years; for the cuts and
perforations made in their trunks injure their health, so that after
some years of _weeping_ they become sickly, exhibit monstrosities about
their lower parts, gradually decay, and at length die. I have no doubt,
however, that, with proper care, the same quantity of sap might be
obtained with less injury to the trees; and it is now fully time that
the farmers and land-owners should begin to look to the preservation of
their sugar-maples.
THE WHITE PERCH AND THE FAVORITE BAIT
No sooner have the overflowing waters of early spring subsided within
their banks, and the temperature become pleasant, than the trees of our
woods are seen to unfold their buds and blossoms, and the White Perch
which during the winter has lived in the ocean, rushes up our streams,
to seek the well-known haunts in which it last year deposited its spawn.
With unabating vigor it ascends the turbulent current of the
Mississippi, of which, however, the waters are too muddy to suit its
habits; and glad no doubt it is to enter one of the numberless
tributaries whose limpid waters are poured into the mighty river. Of
these subsidiary waters the Ohio is one in whose pure stream the White
Perch seems to delight; and towards its head-springs the fish advance in
numerous shoals, following the banks with easy progress. Over many a
pebbly or gravelly bar does it seek its food. Here the crawling Mussel
it crunches and devours; there, with the speed of an arrow, it darts
upon the minnow; again, at the edge of a shelving rock, or by the side
of a stone, it secures a cray-fish. No impure food will "the Growler"
touch; therefore, reader, never make use of such to allure it, otherwise
not only will your time be lost, but you will not enjoy the
gratification of tasting this delicious fish. Should you have no
experience in fishing for Perch I would recommend to you to watch the
men you see on that shore, for they are excellent anglers.
Smooth are the waters, clear is the sky, and gently does the stream
move--perhaps its velocity does not exceed a mile in the hour. Silence
reigns around you. See, each fisher has a basket or calabash, containing
many a live cray; and each line, as thick as a crowquill, measures
scarce a furlong. At one end two Perch-hooks are so fastened that they
cannot interfere with each other. A few inches beyond the reaching point
of the farthest hook, the sinker, perhaps a quarter of a pound in
weight, having a hole bored through its length, is passed upon the line,
and there secured by a stout knot at its lower extremity. The other end
of the line is fastened ashore. The tackle, you observe, is carefully
coiled on the sand at the fisher's feet. Now on each hook he fixes a
cray-fish, piercing the shell beneath the tail, and forcing the keen
weapon to reach the very head of the suffering creature, while all its
legs are left at liberty to move. Now each man, holding his line a yard
or so from the hooks, whirls it several times overhead, and sends it
off to its full length directly across the stream. No sooner has it
reached the gravelly bed than, gently urged by the current, it rolls
over and over, until the line and the water follow the same direction.
Before this, however, I see that several of the men have had a bite, and
that by a short jerk they have hooked the fish. Hand over hand they haul
in their lines. Poor Perch, it is useless labor for thee to flounce and
splash in that manner, for no pity will be shown thee, and thou shalt be
dashed on the sand, and left there to quiver in the agonies of death.
The lines are within a few yards of being in. I see the fish gasping on
its side. Ah! there are two on this line, both good; on most of the
others there is one; but I see some of the lines have been robbed by
some cunning inhabitant of the water. What beautiful fishes these
Perches are! So silvery beneath, so deeply colored above! What a fine
eye, too! But, friend, I cannot endure their gaspings. Pray put them on
this short line, and place them in the water beside you, until you
prepare to go home. In a few hours each fisher has obtained as many as
he wishes. He rolls up his line, fastens five or six Perches on each
side of his saddle, mounts his horse, and merrily wends his way.
In this manner the White Perch is caught along the sandy banks of the
Ohio, from its mouth to its source. In many parts above Louisville some
fishers prefer using the trot-line, which, however, ought to be placed
upon, or very little above, the bottom of the stream. When this kind of
line is employed, its hooks are more frequently baited with mussels than
with cray-fish, the latter being, perhaps, not so easily procured there
as farther down the stream. Great numbers of Perches are also caught in
seines, especially during a transient rise of the water. Few persons
fish for them with the pole, as they generally prefer following the
edges of the sand-bars, next to deep water. Like all others of its
tribe, the White Perch is fond of depositing its spawn on gravelly or
sandy beds, but rarely at a depth of less than four or five feet. These
beds are round, and have an elevated margin formed of the sand removed
from their centre, which is scooped out for two or three inches. The
fish, although it generally remains for some days over its treasure, is
by no means so careful of it as the little "Sunny," but starts off at
the least appearance of danger. I have more than once taken considerable
pleasure in floating over their beds, when the water was sufficiently
clear to admit of my seeing both the fish and its place of deposit; but
I observed that if the sun was shining, the very sight of the boat's
shadow drove the Perches away. I am of opinion that most of them return
to the sea about the beginning of November; but of this I am not
certain.
The usual length of this fish, which on the Ohio is called the White
Perch, and in the state of New York the Growler, is from fifteen to
twenty inches. I have, however, seen some considerably larger. The
weight varies from a pound and a half to four, and even six pounds. For
the first six weeks of their arrival in fresh-water streams they are in
season; the flesh is then white and firm, and affords excellent eating;
but during the heats of summer they become poor, and are seldom very
good. Now and then, in the latter days of September, I have eaten some
that tasted as well as in spring. One of the most remarkable habits of
this fish is that from which it has received the name of Growler. When
poised in the water, close to the bottom of the boat, it emits a rough
croaking noise, somewhat resembling a groan. Whenever this sound is
heard under a boat, if the least disturbance is made by knocking on the
gunwale or bottom, it at once ceases; but is renewed when everything is
quiet. It is seldom heard, however, unless in fine, calm weather.
The White Perch bites at the hook with considerable care, and very
frequently takes off the bait without being caught. Indeed, it requires
a good deal of dexterity to hook it, for if this is not done the first
time it touches the bait, you rarely succeed afterward; and I have seen
young hands at the game, who, in the course of a morning, seldom caught
more than one or two, although they lost perhaps twenty crays. But now
that I have afforded you some information respecting the habits of the
White Perch, allow me to say a few words on the subject of its favorite
bait.
The cray is certainly not a fish, although usually so styled; but as
every one is acquainted with its form and nature, I shall not inflict on
you any disquisition regarding it. It is a handsome crustaceous animal
certainly, and its whole tribe I consider as dainties of the first
order. To me "_Ecrevisses_," whether of salt or fresh water, stripped of
their coats and blended into a soup or a "Gombo," have always been most
welcome. Boiled or roasted, too, they are excellent in my estimation,
and mayhap in yours. The cray-fish, of which I here more particularly
speak--for I shall not deprive them of their caudal appendage, lest,
like a basha without his tail, they might seem of less consequence--are
found most abundantly swimming, crawling at the bottom or on shore, or
working at their muddy burrows, in all the southern parts of the Union.
If I mistake not, we have two species at least, one more an inhabitant
of rocky streamlets than the other, and that one by far the best, though
the other is good too. Both species swim by means of rapid strokes of
the tail, which propel them backwards to a considerable distance at each
repetition. All that I regret concerning these animals is that they are
absolutely little aquatic vultures--or, if you please, crustacea with
vulturine habits--for they feed on everything impure that comes in their
way, when they cannot obtain fresh aliment. However this may be, the
crays somehow fall in with this sort of food, and any person may catch
as many as he may wish, by fastening a piece of flesh to a line,
allowing it to remain under water for a while, and drawing it up with
care, when, with the aid of a hand-net, he may bring it ashore with _a
few_! But although this is a good method of procuring cray-fish, it
answers only for those that live in running waters. The form of these is
delicate, their color a light olive, and their motions in the water are
very lively. The others are larger, of a dark, greenish brown, less
active in the water than on land, although they are most truly
amphibious. The first conceal themselves beneath shelving rocks, stones,
or water-plants; the others form a deep burrow in the damp earth,
depositing the materials drawn up as a man would do in digging a well.
The manner in which they dispose of the mud you may see by glancing at
the plate of the White Ibis, in my third volume of illustrations, where
also you will find a tolerable portrait of one of these creatures.
According to the nature of the ground, the burrows of this cray-fish are
more or less deep. Indeed, this also depends partly on the increasing
dryness of the soil, when influenced by the heat of summer, as well as
on the texture of the substratum. Thus, in some places, where the cray
can reach the water after working a few inches, it rests contented
during the day, but crawls out for food at night. Should it, however, be
left dry, it renews its labors; and thus while one burrow may be only
five or six inches deep, another may be two or three feet, and a third
even more. They are easily procured when thus lodged in shallow holes;
but when the burrow is deep, a thread is used, with a small piece of
flesh fastened to it. The cray eagerly seizes the bait, and is gently
drawn up, and thrown to a distance, when he becomes an easy prey. You
have read of the method used by the White Ibis in procuring crays,[60]
and I leave you to judge whether the bird or the man is the best
fisher. This species is most abundant round the borders of the stagnant
lakes, bayous, or ponds of the Southern Districts; and I have seen them
caught even in the streets of the suburbs of New Orleans, after a heavy
shower. They become a great pest by perforating embankments of all
sorts, and many are the maledictions that are uttered against them, both
by millers and planters, nay, even by the overseers of the levees along
the banks of the Mississippi. But they are curious creatures, formed no
doubt for useful purposes, and as such they are worthy of your notice.
THE AMERICAN SUN PERCH
Few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel, either in beauty or in
delicacy and flavor, the species which I have chosen as the subject of
this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers. Although it
occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small or large, in
the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest trees, or in the open lake
margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in impure waters.
Let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow, the water must be
clear enough to allow the sun's rays to fall unimpaired on the rich coat
of mail that covers the body of the Sunfish. Look at him as he poises
himself under the lee of the protecting rock beneath our feet! See how
steadily he maintains his position, and yet how many rapid motions of
his fins are necessary to preserve it! Now another is by his side
glowing with equal beauty, and poising itself by equally easy and
graceful movements. The sun is shining, and under the lee of every
stone, and sunk log, some of the little creatures are rising to the
surface to enjoy the bright blaze, which enhances all their beauty. The
golden hues of some parts of the body, blend with the green of the
emerald, while the coral tints of the lower parts and the red of its
sparkling eye, render our little favorite a perfect gem of the waters.
The rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the
obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones and logs
that are strewn along the bottom. Every one of these proves a place of
rest, safety, and observation to the little things, whose eyes are ever
anxiously watching their favorite prey as it passes. There an
unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labors in vain to
extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at
intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings, now
wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. The Sunfish has marked
it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with twenty of
his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. The swiftest swallows it in a
moment, and all immediately return to their lurking-places, where they
fancy themselves secure. But, alas! the Sunfish is no more without
enemies than the moth, or any other living creature. So has nature
determined, evidently, to promote prudence and industry, without which
none can reap the full advantage of life.
On the top of yon miller's dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher. Up
to the knees and regardless of the danger of his situation, he prepares
his apparatus of destruction. A keen hook attached to his grass line is
now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. With a knowing eye he
marks one after another every surge of the water below. Observing the
top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his hook towards it with
gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats and anon sinks; his reel
slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly tightened, and he feels
that a fish is secured. Now whirls the reel again; thrice has the fish
tried its utmost strength and speed, but soon, panting and exhausted, it
is seen floating for a moment on the surface. Nothing now is required
but to bring it to hand, which done, the angler baits anew, and sends
forth the treacherous morsel. For an hour or more he continues the
agreeable occupation, drawing from the stream a fish at every short
interval. To the willow twig fastened to his waist a hundred "Sunnies"
are already attached. Suddenly the sky is overcast, and the crafty
fisher, although aware that with a different hook and bait he might soon
procure a fine eel or two, carefully wades to the shore, and homeward
leisurely plods his way.
In this manner are the Sunfishes caught by the regular or "scientific"
anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with
which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open
turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the overhanging
trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little creatures may be
playing in fancied security. Rarely does his tackle become entangled,
whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws one after another from the
waters.
Thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in their
mode of fishing, often procure as many "Sunnies" without allowing them
to play for a moment. Look at these boys! One stands on the shore, while
the others are on fallen trees that project over the stream. Their rods,
as you perceive, are merely shoots of the hazel or hickory, their lines
are simply twine, and their hooks none of the finest. One has a calabash
filled with worms and grubs of many sorts, kept alive in damp earth, and
another is supplied with a bottle containing half a gross of live
"hoppers;" the third has no bait at all, but borrows from his nearest
neighbor. Well, there they are, "three merry boys," whirling their rods
in the air to unroll their lines, on one of which, you observe, a cork
is fastened, while on another is a bit of light wood, and on the third a
grain or two of large shot, to draw it at once to a certain depth. Now
their hooks are baited and all are ready. Each casts his line as he
thinks best, after he has probed the depth of the stream with his rod,
to enable him to place his buoy at the proper point. Bob, bob, goes the
cork; down it moves; the bit of wood disappears, the leaded line
tightens; in a moment up swing the "Sunnies," which, getting unhooked,
are projected far among the grass, where they struggle in vain, until
death ends their efforts. The hooks are now baited anew, and dropped
into the water. The fish is abundant, the weather propitious and
delightful, for it is now October; and so greedy have the "Sunnies"
become of grasshoppers and grubs that dozens at once dash at the same
bait. The lads, believe me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely
a fish remains in the hole. The happy children have caught, perhaps,
some hundreds of delicious "panfish," to feed their parents and delight
their little sisters. Surely their pleasure is fully as great as that
experienced by the scientific angler.
I have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let out, for
some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all the Sunfish
have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if to avoid being
carried away from their favorite abode. There I have seen them in such
multitudes that one could catch as many as he pleased with a pin-hook,
fastened to any sort of line, and baited with any sort of worm or
insect, or even with a piece of newly caught fish. Yet, and I am not
able to account for it, all of a sudden, without apparent cause, they
would cease to take, and no allurement whatever could entice them or the
other fishes in the pool to seize the hook.