Recollections of "Old Timers"
Mr. Oscar B. Warren, now of Houghton, Mich., has been interested for
years in collecting data about the Passenger Pigeon, and kindly turned
over to me his entire budget. Among his letters is the following from
Mr. H. T. Blodgett, Superintendent of Public Schools, Ludington, Mich.,
dated November 19, 1904:
... Your pigeon is a stranger to me, or rather has been a stranger for
six or more years. I can distinctly remember clouds of them, darkening
the sky, almost, in Pennsylvania, thirty years ago. Later, in Michigan,
they were abundant, coming to this part of the State as soon as the
snow was gone, picking up the beech nuts and "shack" of the woods.
After a few weeks' flying about and feeding they would disappear;
reappearing again in June, young pigeons, fat, and the choicest eating.
They would stay a few weeks, not more than about three weeks, going
about July 1. During this visit the birds haunted the thick woods, and
would call from the shade of the leaves of beech, maple, and hemlock
trees through the heat of the day, feeding mornings and evenings on
the sprouted beech nuts under the leaves.
There would often be a third appearance in September, when I have seen
buckwheat fields blue with them. Also fall-sowed wheat fields would be
so covered with them that the farmer had to watch his fields to save
the seed he had sowed.
During the spring and also the fall visit, flocks searching for feeding
ground could be called down from flight and induced to light on trees
near where the call was sounded. The call was one in imitation of the
pigeon's own call, given either as a peculiar throat sound (liable to
make the throat sore if too often repeated) or with a silk band between
two blocks of wood, like this
[Illustration: The pigeon call]
held between the lips and teeth and blown like a blade of grass between
the thumbs. By biting or pressing with the teeth at (A) (A) the tension
upon the silk band would be increased, raising the tone of the call or
relaxing for a lower note. Cleverly used, it was very successful in
calling pigeons feeding in small flocks to alight.
Much to my regret I have seen none of the beautiful birds for about
six years. The savage warfare upon them, from nesting place to nesting
place by pot-hunters and villainous fellows who barreled them for
market, with nets and every brutal means for wholesale destruction, has
driven them, I know not whither. If there are considerable flocks of
them anywhere, I should be glad to know it.
I wish I might help you. Such things as are here hastily recalled and
written will not be likely to afford anything of interest, but if there
is any thought or anything in it, it is cheerfully given.
On the great sand bluffs which line our shores in many places, flocks
of pigeons in passing would fly so low that a man with a club could
knock them down. At Lincoln, three miles north of here, nets were put
on the top of the hills, like gill nets, to catch them in their flight.
They were never very successful.
[Illustration: Showing the method of placing pigeon net]
(_Notes by the Allen Brothers, Joseph and Isaac, of Manchester, Mich.
A copy of their letter was received through kindness of L. Whitney
Watkins, of Manchester, Mich._)
We have had about fifty years' experience in the business [pigeon
catching], as we used to help our father as long ago as we can
recollect, he being one of the best pigeoners in his day, working a
great deal at the business in the summer season. Until we were twenty
years old we lived on the shores of Lake Ontario in Wayne County, N. Y.
The pigeons used to have a flying course along the shore of the lake on
their way to the Montezuma marshes after salt. Pigeons are very fond of
salt, or, rather, brine. It seems to be a necessary article for them.
Their course was generally from west to east. They seldom flew west by
the same route. How far they came, we could not tell; perhaps from this
State or perhaps farther west. Sometimes they would go west by the same
route. If so, they were much easier to catch than when going east. When
going east they were looking for salt; when west, for food.
They used to commence to fly about the 1st of April and keep it up
until the middle of June. After that time they would scatter over the
country, and did not fly in large flocks as in the spring.
It would be hard to make any estimate of their numbers that people
would believe at this late day. I was going to say that a thousand
million could have been seen in the air all at once. There would
be days and days when the air was alive with them, hardly a break
occurring in a flock for half a day at a time. Flocks stretched as far
as a person could see, one tier above another. I think it would be safe
to say that millions could have been seen at the same time.
In the year 1854 we moved to Michigan, settling near Adrian, where we
found pigeons quite plentiful. When they were flying here (Adrian) they
seemed to scatter over the State, having no regular course.
The supply of pigeons kept very regular here for about twenty-five or
thirty years. About the time we came west the pigeons became scarce in
New York, and very few have been seen there since. It is five years
(1890) since we have seen or heard of any being seen in this State
(Michigan) or in any other.
Our "pigeoning" was more for sport than profit, and we liked a nice
broiled pigeon for breakfast about as well as anything we could have,
especially when they were worth $6.00 per dozen. If the pigeons had
been sent to the New York market they could have been sold for big
prices, as pigeons sold for larger and better prices than any other
game in that market. Our father did not like the idea of sending
pigeons to New York for a market.
After we came to where we now live (Cambridge), and when I was going
to Adrian, I stopped at father's on my road. He had been out catching
pigeons that morning and had secured 600 by 10 o'clock. He said to me:
"I wish you would take these pigeons to Adrian and sell them if you
can. Take them to the depot and sell them for 10 cents per dozen. If
you cannot sell them, give them to the workingmen in the shops."
I thought 10 cents was pretty cheap, so I went to selling at 20 cents
per dozen. When the men came out of the work-shops I sold them all at
25 cents per dozen. After I left for town, father caught 500 more, and
took them to Adrian the same day and sold them for 10 cents per dozen.
If the same lot of pigeons had been shipped to New York, they would
probably have brought $2 or more per dozen.
About a year from that time we caught 600 in one day, and made up our
minds we would ship them to New York. We took them to Adrian to ship.
When we got to Adrian we saw father, who, after inquiring about our
intentions concerning their shipment, said:
"It is foolish for you to send them, as they will never be heard from."
He advised us to dispose of them for 25 cents per dozen; this was the
highest price pigeons were worth in Adrian. To please him we tried
to sell them for that price, but could not, so, taking them to the
express office, we shipped them. In about four days the returns came,
netting us 70 cents per dozen, about the lowest price we ever got. They
explained that the pigeons had been poorly handled or they would have
brought more. This was thirty-five years ago, _and these were probably
the first pigeons shipped from this State to New York_.
We have shipped thousands since. They would probably average $2 per
dozen. We have sold them as high as $3.75 per dozen and have seen them
quoted as high as $6 per dozen. A pigeoner from Pennsylvania told us
he shipped two barrels at one time and got $5.50 per dozen. We caught
2,400 one week, having them all on hand at one time. We got a market
report from New York where they were quoted at $6.50 per dozen. We
packed and shipped ours as soon as possible. When they reached market
they sold for $1.50 per dozen. The army of pigeoners had struck a big
nesting in the State of Wisconsin the same week we caught ours, and
they shipped them to market by the wholesale. The market dropped from
$6.50 to $1.25 in one week.
The pigeon business was very profitable for men who were used to it,
and there were probably from one to three hundred men in the trade.
When the pigeons changed their location, the pigeoners would follow
them, sometimes going over a thousand miles.
When this army of men had good luck they would ship them by the
hundreds of barrels. Probably as many as five hundred barrels have
been shipped to New York and Boston in one day. Our commission man in
New York wrote us that 100 barrels a day could be sold there without
affecting the market but very little.
I was at a pigeon nesting in the State of Pennsylvania where there were
from three to five hundred men catching pigeons and squabs. It was a
great sight to see the birds going back and forth after food. When
nesting in such large bodies, they leave the food in the near vicinity
for their young. If they can find plenty of food, they nest in large
bodies; if not, they scatter over the country and nest in scattered
colonies.
The nesting I mentioned in Pennsylvania was within one mile of the
cleared lands. We camped within two miles of the nesting. The pigeons
kept up a continual roaring by their combined twittering and cooing, so
that it could be heard for miles away by night as well as day.
Sometimes it is almost impossible to catch the pigeons. At the nesting
mentioned the most experienced hands found it impossible to take large
numbers. The whole crowd of men could not catch more than one man ought
to have caught under the circumstances.
The young pigeons (squabs) were much sought after in New York and
Boston, and if sent in moderate numbers brought big prices, usually
about two dollars per dozen. When the squabs were old enough to
market, the army of pigeoners (estimated to be about five hundred)
commenced taking them. Entering the woods in which the nesting was
located, they cut down the trees right and left, cutting the timber
over thousands of acres. When a tree fell, bringing with it the squabs,
they picked the young birds up, sometimes getting as many as two dozen
from one tree. The large trees, which might have yielded fifty or a
hundred, were left standing. Our company of five took in two days
thirteen barrels of squabs, averaging 400 to the barrel.
There were shipped from two stations on the Erie road in one day 200
barrels of these young pigeons. If they had been old birds, they would
not have broken the market, but this was too many squabs, and the price
dropped 25 to 45 cents per dozen.
Osborn told me that he once caught 3,500 at one catch. It was at a big
nesting in the State of Wisconsin. He had an enormous flock baited.
He said that he put out as high as forty bushels of shelled corn at
one time on the bed where he caught this large number. For a trap, he
had constructed a board pen built up from the ground four or five feet
high. This pen was about one hundred feet long by twenty feet wide. He
took three large-sized nets, and, tying them together, set them on this
pen. He had feeding pens built by the side of the trap-pen, so when
he made a catch he could drive the pigeons into the feeding pens and
fatten them for market, these "stall-fed" birds bringing much higher
prices than poor birds. This large catch filled all his feeding pens.
He said he could have made another catch fully as large as the one just
mentioned, in one-half hour afterward but, having no room, he could not
take care of any more.
This method of catching pigeons was much the best when they were to be
preserved alive. It was rather a late invention in the pigeon-netting
business. We have caught with one net in the same way as many as four
hundred at one time. With a net set on the ground we have taken from
three to five hundred a great many times. In this latter manner, a
brother of mine caught 556 with one net. Without help, in one day I
have caught from thirteen to fourteen hundred out of a flock as they
were flying over.
We have two ways of pigeoning. One is catching out of flocks as they
are flying over; the other is catching baited pigeons. One way of
bringing the flocks out of the air was by using live pigeons kept for
that purpose. These we called "fliers" and "stool-pigeons;" generally
from three to five fliers and two stool-pigeons. For the "fliers" and
"stools" we made what we called "boots" of soft leather. These were
slipped on the leg a little above the foot. To the boots of the fliers
were fastened small stout cords from two to four rods long, on the
other end of which was fastened a small bush. If the birds were flying
high, we used a longer string.
The stool-pigeons were fastened to stools and set on the "bed"; when
the net was sprung the birds were under it. The bed over which the net
was sprung was the same size as the net, or from thirty to forty feet
long by twelve to fifteen feet wide. It was made by clearing the ground
of all rubbish, and making it as clean as a garden. Before the net was
set it covered the bed. We tied a rope to each of the front corners. On
the front side we used two spring stakes fastened in the ground at the
ends of the ropes, which were tied to the stake about five feet from
the ground. At one of the stakes we built a bough house so that the
rope from the net would pass through the house. The back corners were
fastened with small, notched stakes which were driven in the ground so
that the notches faced the bough house. We used what we called "flying
staffs"--small stakes about four feet long and the thickness of a broom
handle, with a notch cut in one end. We also used two more small stakes
to set the flying staffs against, to hold the net when set. It took two
to properly set a net. Each one took a staff, stepped in front, one
at each corner, caught hold of the rope, and crowded the front edge
back of the back edge about six inches. Then the flying staffs were
placed against the small stakes, notch end against the ropes. The net
was now crowded to the ground and the staffs slipped into the notches
of the stakes to hold the net in place. The slack of the net was laid
alongside the rope on the ground. By crowding the net back, it sprung
the stakes over, which sprung the net. The stool-pigeons were made
to hover by pulling a line reaching into the bough house, where the
pigeoner awaited them with his fliers.
When a flock of pigeons came near enough to spy the fliers, the
pigeoner threw the tethered birds into the air. They quickly flew the
length of the line and then hovered near the ground. They had the
appearance of feeding on the bed, which, of course, has been supplied
with food. The wild flock alighted and began feeding. The net rope
passing through the bough house was pulled by the pigeoner, and this
drew the flying staffs from under the hooks, the staffs raised the
front edge of the net up about four feet, and over it went as quick as
a flash, covering or catching perhaps five hundred at once.
[Illustration: BAND-TAILED PIGEON (_Columba fasciata_)
Often mistaken for Passenger Pigeon]
Letter from James B. Purdy, of Plymouth, Mich.:
November, 1894.
Oscar B. Warren,
Palmer, Mich.
Dear Sir:--Yours of November 24 received, asking me to send notes
on the Passenger Pigeon. In the beginning I would say that I am now
fifty-one years of age, and I am writing this under the roof of the old
homestead where I was born, hence my memory of the passenger pigeon
for this locality extends back to my early boyhood, when millions of
pigeons visited this locality on their spring and fall migrations, and
during their spring migrations comparatively few halted with us to
feed, but the great majority of them winged their way in a high-flying
flock of unbroken columns, sometimes half a mile in length, to the
north and west, probably to their breeding grounds; but on their
return, from the first to the fifteenth of September, they would swarm
down on our newly sowed wheat fields until acres of ground would be
blue, and when they arose they would darken the air and their wings
would sound like distant thunder. They were not so shy at this time
of the year, as part of them were young birds, which were easily
distinguished from the old ones by their speckled breasts; and I would
here state that, during both spring and fall migrations, their greatest
flight seemed to be from sunrise until about nine or ten o'clock A.M.
My father was an old pigeon catcher, and it was during these fall
migrations that he would go out in the middle of a wheat field, build
his bough house, set his net, and prepare for the finest sport in which
it was ever my good fortune to participate; and many a time have I been
with him when he has caught hundreds of them in a single morning. You
may ask, What did you do with so many pigeons? Well, I will tell you.
We skinned out the breasts, pickled them for two or three days in weak
brine, and then strung them on strings, from one hundred and fifty to
two hundred on a string, and hung them up to dry in the same manner
as dried beef (I mean the breasts). Of course the remainder of the
carcasses we cooked for immediate use, or as much of them as we needed
for the family. Let me tell you that those pigeon breasts were a dainty
morsel, and would last as long as dried beef and was far its superior
in taste.
While rummaging through the attic a few days since, I came across
the old pigeon stool upon which the stool-pigeon was tied, which my
father used so many years ago, and it carried me back to my boyhood and
conveyed to my mind vivid memories of the past.
The pigeons continued to visit us in great abundance for a number of
years, although there would be an occasional season when there would
not be so many. As the years rolled by they became fewer in number
until in the fall of 1876, when I saw my last Passenger Pigeons (a
small flock of ten or fifteen), I tried hard to procure some for my
cabinet, but failed.
One peculiar habit of the Passenger Pigeons was that during their
migrations, should they alight and their crops were filled with
inferior food, they would vomit it up in order to fill themselves with
something better should they find it.
* * * * *
F. N. Lawrence stated in _Forest and Stream_ of February 18, 1899,
that when a boy, in the late forties, he spent most of his time on
his grandfather's country seat at Manhattanville, on the North River.
In those years the wild pigeon flew south on both sides of the North
River by the thousands in the fall, and in lesser numbers flew north in
the spring.
He also wrote: "These migrations occurred with the utmost regularity.
The first easterly storm after September 1st, clearing up with a strong
northwest wind, was as surely followed by a flight of wild pigeons as
the sun was to rise. During such storms, I have passed many a sleepless
night watching to catch the first change of wind, and when it veered
northwest, daybreak found me on the river bank watching for the flight
that never failed. Ah! how my heart jumped as flock after flock of wild
pigeons came flying over Fort Washington like small clouds. I have
shot a great many of them, but alas, like the buffalo, they are almost
exterminated."
* * * * *
I have run across what was evidently my first diary, dated 1872, when I
was fourteen years old. I make the following extracts from it:
April 6th. "Pigeon flew this morning."
Then on April 8th I mention 9 pigeons shot in the afternoon by my
father, and say "they flew very thick in the morning."
The record, like most boys' diaries, seems to have many skips, for the
next item about pigeons is on the 11th of May, saying that I shot 2
that day and on the 1st of June I mention that I killed 3 pigeons in
the morning, "the most I ever have shot at one time."
My marksmanship seems to have improved after that, for on the 7th
of June I mention shooting 7, and on the 8th 8 (I used to go every
morning), and on the 10th I got 8 again and on the 11th 12, and so on
with varying success. On June 11 I mention that the young ones were
beginning to fly plentifully.
W. B. M.
Extract from a letter written by the late Alexander McDougall of
Duluth, February 8, 1905:
I have been about Lake Superior since 1863. Have never known any
rookery near the lake or in Lake Superior Basin, although I think they
did breed near Lake Superior, for they were in such great quantities
about the lake during the whole summer. In 1871 when this town (Duluth)
was first building, there were millions of them about here. In the Lake
Superior region there are lots of berries but no beech nuts, except
near Grand Island, 40 miles east of Marquette. It is likely if there
was any roosting on Lake Superior, this would be the most favorable
place.... The pigeon was numerous on Lake Superior in 1872, for I have
recollections of catching some that year while captain of the Steamer
_Japan_. During foggy weather and at night, they would alight on the
boat in great numbers, tired out. On foggy mornings, the blowing of
our whistle would start them up. Often, when they would light on the
eave of our overhanging deck, we could sneak along under the deck and
quickly snatch one. I remember having caught several in that way. As
clearly as I can remember, they left all at once along about 1875.
I have seen a few here along about 1882, and one fall in October, I
think, of 1884, I saw two or three, the last I remember of them.
Kalamazoo, Mich., June 13th, 1905.
Wm. B. Mershon, Saginaw, Mich.:
* * * * *
It seems too bad that this noble bird should have been blotted out. The
last flock, a small one, that I ever saw was in 1891. I saw pigeons in
1883, 1885 and 1886.
I have been in their nesting grounds. The males and the females sit on
the nest on alternate days. When their big nesting was near South Haven
in this State, the birds used to fly over this town every day in their
quest for food, some of them going fully seventy-five miles in an air
line from their nesting. One day it would be a continuous stream of
male birds and the next day it would be the females.
How the netters did massacre them and ship them away by thousands and
thousands. Many were kept alive and shipped all over the country for
pigeon shoots. The last wild pigeons ever used for this purpose that
I know of was at John Watson's Grand Grossing, Chicago, Illinois, in
1886. I asked Watson, in February last, where he got those birds, and
he said from Indian Territory, so I think the netters finally cleaned
up what was left of the big flight that perished from the sleet and fog
at their last nesting in Michigan, near Petoskey, in 1881.
Their nests were built and eggs laid in late April. A big wind and
storm of sleet came up just at dusk and the birds left; there was a big
fog on Lake Michigan, and the birds were swallowed up by the storm;
anyhow they disappeared then and there. I have heard tell of the beach
being strewn for miles with dead pigeons, and I heard an old woodsman
tell of the stench arising from dead pigeons in the woods.
It was that storm of ice that surely wiped them out.
I was at Petoskey in 1882, and no pigeons showed up that year.
What a host of memories of boyhood days are recalled, when one thinks
of the wild pigeons. I can see myself a boy again, equipped with a
long, single barrel shot gun, shot pouch and powder flask a-dangling, a
box of G. D. caps in my pocket, and I a-sneakin' and a-sneakin' up for
a shot at an old cock pigeon perched away up on a dead limb at the top
of a tall tree. How handsome is that old cock with neck outstretched
and tail a-streamin', the richness of his coloring, the red of the
breast, the metallic sheen of that outstretched neck is of marvelous
luster as bathed in the glories of the morning sunlight. He turns
his head! He is onto that boy who is sneaking so carefully along the
old rail fence. Carefully the gun is raised and aimed; the trigger
is pressed. "Ker-whang" in a cloud of smoke is the loud report. The
old cock, startled, flies away. "Missed him, by gosh!" is the boy's
lament as he starts to reload, whilst in unison with the rattle of the
grains of powder in the flask, there comes drifting down on the morning
breeze, slowly wafting here and there, a long tail feather from that
noble bird to show that though missed, yet the aim was true.
Yours truly,
Ben O. Bush.
Kalamazoo, Mich., June 17th, 1905.
Dear Mershon:
Do not understand me as to my assertion, that in nesting time the wild
pigeons in feeding, the males always alternate with the females, each
having a day off and a day on throughout the period of incubation and
the rearing of the young. It depended upon the amount of food and the
distance that they had to go to get it, and they changed their habit
according to the conditions. If they had to make a long flight, as was
the case when they passed over here, then they alternated; but I will
agree with you that their habit in nesting time when food was plenty
and not far away, was for the males to sit first in the morning, then
the females, and sometimes the males a second time, all in the same
day. Pigeons require a great deal of water, and sometimes their crops
would show that they had been to water prior to their return flight,
while at other times the food in their crops would be dry.
Some other boys and I had a lot of wild birds that we bought alive
from a netter. We put the birds in the loft of a big barn where there
was a lot of beans that had not been threshed. We would put in a big
trough of water for them every day. The way those birds threshed out
those bean pods was a caution. They became very fat and fairly tame.
What wouldn't I give to hear the call note of Tete! Tete! Tete! of the
pigeons once more.
Yours truly,
Ben O. Bush.
* * * * *
J. S. Van Cleef of Poughkeepsie, N. Y., wrote in _Forest and Stream_ of
May 20, 1899, as follows:
For many years up to about 1850, flocks of wild pigeons in the fall
were quite abundant, and were very often taken with nets, which was
a very favorite way of capturing them at that time, but very few, if
any, have been taken in this manner since that time. A few small flocks
appeared in the fifties, but not to such an extent that an attempt was
made to capture them through the aid of pigeon nets, and I find upon
inquiry that the experience of others agrees with my own.
The last flight of pigeons of which I have any knowledge occurred in
the seventies, where they nested in the mountain range south of the
Beaverkill in the lower part of Ulster County. There were two flights
about this time, one small one, and in the course of two or three years
this was followed by a flight where the pigeons appeared in great
numbers.
This flock had nested in Missouri in the month of April, and the
most of the squabs were killed by those who were in the business of
furnishing squabs for the market.
When the nesting was over the entire flock went to Michigan, where they
nested again, and they were followed there by the same persons who
again destroyed most of the squabs. When they left Michigan they took
their flight eastward, and telegrams were sent all over that part of
the country where the pigeons would be likely to nest a third time, and
as soon as they settled in the Catskills these persons were apprised of
the location and very soon appeared on the scene.
The party, about thirty strong, stopped at Monson's, whose house was
located on the upper Beaverkill, about three miles from the nest.
This nest was a mile from the Willewemoc Lodge, where I happened to
be during the whole time that the pigeons were in their roost. It was
claimed at the time that the squabs were sent down to New York by the
ton, but as to this I have no personal knowledge, though I do know that
during the nesting all, or nearly all, of the squabs were destroyed,
and this was done by invading the grounds at night and striking the
trunks of the trees with a heavy axe or sledge hammer, upon which the
squabs would tumble out of the nests on the ground, and be picked up
and carried to Monson's and shipped to New York the next day.
I do know, however, that from a natural ice house and the ice house
belonging to our club, these persons obtained not less than fifteen
tons of ice for the purpose of preserving the squabs.
This is the last flight of pigeons that has ever taken place in this
part of the country, so far as I have any knowledge, and I am very sure
that if there had been any I would have known it.
Poughkeepsie, N. Y., May 12.