If you only visit the Watkinson once this semester, let it be this week!  One of the most famous birds in the Audubon (both because of the artistry and because it is now extinct) is on display until Friday.

“Doubtless, kind reader, you will say, while looking at the seven figures of Parakeets represented in the plate, that I spared not my labour.  I never do, so anxious am I to promote your pleasure . . .

The Parrot does not satisfy himself with cockle-burs, but eats or destroys almost every kind of fruit indiscriminately, and on this account is always an unwelcome visitor to the planter, the farmer, or the gardener. The stacks of grain put up in the field are resorted to by flocks of these birds, which frequently cover them so entirely, that they present to the eye the same effect as if a brilliantly coloured carpet had been thrown over them. They cling around the whole stack, pull out the straws, and destroy twice as much of the grain as would suffice to satisfy their hunger. They assail the pear and apple-trees, when the fruit is yet very small and far from being ripe, and this merely for the sake of the seeds. As on the stalks of corn, they alight on the apple-trees of our orchards, or the pear-trees in the gardens, in great numbers; and, as if through mere mischief, pluck off the fruits, open them up to the core, and, disappointed at the sight of the seeds, which are yet soft and of a milky consistence, drop the apple or pear, and pluck another, passing from branch to branch, until the trees which were before so promising, are left completely stripped, like the ship water-logged and abandoned by its crew, floating on the yet agitated waves, after the tempest has ceased. They visit the mulberries, pecan-nuts, grapes, and even the seeds of the dog-wood, before they are ripe, and on all commit similar depredations. The maize alone never attracts their notice.

Do not imagine, reader, that all these outrages are borne without severe retaliation on the part of the planters. So far from this, the Parakeets are destroyed in great numbers, for whilst busily engaged in plucking off the fruits or tearing the grain from the stacks, the husbandman approaches them with perfect ease, and commits great slaughter among them. All the survivors rise, shriek, fly round about for a few minutes, and again alight on the very place of most imminent danger. The gun is kept at work; eight or ten, or even twenty, are killed at every discharge. The living birds, as if conscious of the death of their companions, sweep over their bodies, screaming as loud as ever, but still return to the stack to be shot at, until so few remain alive, that the farmer does not consider it worth his while to spend more of his ammunition. I have seen several hundreds destroyed in this manner in the course of a few hours, and have procured a basketful of these birds at a few shots, in order to make choice of good specimens for drawing the figures by which this species is represented in the plate now under your consideration.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 135-136 [excerpts].

“The Song Sparrow is one of the most abundant of its tribe in Louisiana, during winter.  This abundance is easily accounted for by the circumstance that it rears three broods in the year:– six, five, and three young at each time, making fourteen per annum from a single pair . . . you will readily conceive how a whole flock of Song Sparrows may in a very short time be produced . . .

I have at all times been very partial to the Song Sparrow; for although its attire is exceedingly plain,it is pleasing to hear it, in the Middle States, singing earlier in spring, and later in autumn, than almost any other bird.  Its song is sweet, of considerable duration, and performed at all hours of the day . . .

The flight of the Song Sparrow is short, and much undulated, when the bird is high in the air, but swifter and more level when it is near the ground.  They migrate by night, singly or in straggling troops . . . it is a fine, plump bird, and becomes very flat [sic] and juicy . . . they feed on grass seeds, some berries and insects, especially grasshoppers, and now and then pursue flies on the wing . . .

I have placed a pair of them on a twig of the Huckleberry Bush in blossom.  This species sometimes grows to a height of six or seven feet, and produces a fine berry in great abundance.  Huckleberries of every sort are picked by women and children, and sold in the eastern markets in great profusion.  They are used for tarts, but in my opinion are better when eaten fresh.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 126-128 [excerpts].

“The many kind attentions which I have received from the celebrated author of the Life of Leo the Tenth, joined to the valuable advice with which I have been favoured by that excellent gentleman*[see below], has induced me to honour the little bird before you with his name.

I shot it in a deep swamp not far from the River Mississippi, in the State bearing the same name, in September 1821.  It was flitting among the top branches of a high Cypress, when I first observed it, moving sideways, searching for insects, and occasionally following one on the wing.  It uttered a single twit repeated at short intervals.  It having unexpectedly flown to a distant tree of the species on a branch of which you now see it, I followed it and shot it.  It was the only one of the kind I have ever seen, although I went to the same swamp for several days in succession.  It proved a male, and was to all appearance in perfect plumage.  The gizzard was nearly filled with very minute red insects, found on Cypress and Pines, the wings of different flies, and the heads of red ants.

In general appearance, this species so much resembles the preceding, that had not its habits differed so greatly from those of the Maryland Yellow-throat, I might have been induced to consider it as merely an accidental variety.  On examining it more closely, however, and on comparing it with that bird, I felt, as I now feel, fully confident of its being different.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 124.

*William Roscoe (1753-1831), historian and patron of arts, was the son of a Liverpool innkeeper who eventually spent two decades in what he described as the laborious and distasteful profession of an attorney.  He also enjoyed literary and naturalist pursuits, and was a staunch abolitionist, for which he experienced much pain and suffering in his native city.  Roscoe was one of Audubon’s first champions in England, and as the first president of the Liverpool Royal Institution, he provided many valuable contacts to Audubon as the naturalist began to drum up support for his book.

Just acquired, a copy of Nuttall’s Manual of the Ornithology of the United States and Canada (Boston, 1840) which belonged to Vincent Barnard, a 19thC Pennsylvania naturalist.

The author of the book, Thomas Nuttall (1786-1859), was born in Yorkshire, worked as an apprentice printer in Liverpool, and became so enamored of natural history that he emigrated to Philadelphia in 1808, where he found a mentor and patron in professor Benjamin S. Barton (U Penn).  Nuttall then traveled the U.S., from the Great Lakes to New Orleans, and across the southeast. Returning to the Northeast, he lectured at Yale in 1822 (on botany) and was appointed curator of the Botanic Garden at Harvard in 1823, lecturing there until 1834.  His study of birds dates from this period, from which the present book was produced.

A former owner of this book was Vincent Barnard (1825-1871), a native of Pennsylvania described as “naturalist, botanist, ornithologist, entomologist, taxidermist, mineralogist, artisan and universal genius.”  On one of the blank fly-leaves is written “Vincent Barnard Bought Philada 8th Mo 2nd, 1847,” and a two-page “list of new species described by Audubon discovered since the publication of Nuttall’s manual.”  Shown here, opposite the title-page, is an explanation of Barnard’s annotating system:

“The species marked thus + , I have seen in a living state”

“Those marked thus ++ are prepared in my collection.”

“[three vertical plus signs] This mark denotes that the species was not described in the first edition of this work”

“cc signifies that the species is an inhabitant of Chester County, PA.”

“The notes of this little bird render it more conspicuous than most of its genus, for although they cannot be called very musical, they are far from being unpleasant, and are uttered so frequently during the day, that one, in walking along the briary ranges of the fences, is almost necessarily brought to listen to its whitititee, repeated three or four times every five or six minutes, the bird seldom stopping expressly to perform its music, but merely uttering the notes after it has picked an insect from amongst the leaves of the low bushes which it usually inhabits.  It then hops a step or two up or down, and begins again.

Although timid, it seldom flies far off at the approach of man, but instantly dives into the thickest parts of its favorite bushes and high grass, where it continues searching for food either along the twigs, or among the dried leaves on the ground, and renews its little song when only a few feet distant.

Its nest is one of those which the Cow Bunting (Icterus pecoris) selects, in which to deposit one of its eggs, to be hatched by the owners, that bird being similar in this respect to the European Cuckoo.  The nest, which is placed on the ground, and partly sunk in it, is now and then covered over in the form of an oven, from which circumstance children name this warbler the Oven-bird . . . it does not chase insects by flying after them, but secures them by surprise.  Caterpillars and spiders form its principal food.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 121.

“The Purple Martin makes its appearance in the City of New Orleans from the 1st to the 9th of February . . . and is then to be seen gambolling through the air, over the city and the river, feeding on many sorts of insects, which are there found in abundance at that period.

It frequently rears three broods whilst with us. I have had several opportunities, at the period of their arrival, of seeing prodigious flocks moving over that city or its vicinity, at a considerable height, each bird performing circular sweeps as it proceeded, for the purpose of procuring food . . . at the Falls of the Ohio, I have seen Martins as early as the 15th of March, arriving in small detached parties . . . by the 25th of the same month, they are generally plentiful . . . at St. Genevieve, in the State of Missouri, they seldom arrive before the 10th or 15th of April . . . at Philadelphia, they are first seen about the 10th of April.  They reach Boston about the 25th, and continue their migration much farther north, as the spring continues to open.

. . . These birds are extremely courageous, persevering, and and tenacious of what they consider their right.  They exhibit strong antipathies against cats, dogs, and such other quadrupeds as are likely to prove dangerous to them.  They attach and chase indiscriminately every species of Hawk, Crow, or Vulture, and on this account are much patronized by the husbandman.  They frequently follow and tease an Eagle, until he is out of sight of the Martin’s box.

. . . The note of the Martin is not melodious, but is nevertheless very pleasing . . . [and is] among the first that are heard in the morning, and are welcome to the sense of every body.  The industrious farmer rises from his bed as he hears them . . . the husbandman, certain of a fine day, renews his peaceful labors with an elated heart.  The still more independent Indian is also fond of the Martin’s company.  He frequently hangs up a calabash on some twig near his camp, and in this cradle the bird keeps watch, and sallies forth to drive off the vulture that might otherwise commit depredations on the deer-skins or pieces of venison exposed to the air to be dried.  The humbled slave of the Southern States takes more pains to accommodate this favourite bird.  The calabash is neatly scooped out, and attached to the flexible top of a cane, brought from the swamp, where that plant usually grows, and placed close to his hut.  It is, alas! to him a mere memento of the freedom which he once enjoyed; and, at the sound of the horn which calls him to his labor, as he bids farewell to the Martin, he cannot help thinking how happy he should be, were he permitted to gambol and enjoy himself day after day, with as much liberty as that bird.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 112-119.

” . . . In a word, kind reader, it is where Nature seems to have paused, as she passed over the Earth, and opening her stores, to have strewed with unsparing hand the diversified seeds from which have sprung all the beautiful and and splendid forms which I should in vain attempt to describe, that the Mocking Bird should have fixed its abode, there only that its wondrous song should be heard.

But where is that favoured land? –It is in that great continent to whose distant shores Europe has sent forth her adventurous sons, to wrest for themselves a habitation from the wild inhabitants of the forest, and to convert the neglected soil in to fields of exuberant fertility.  It is, reader, in Louisiana that these bounties of nature are in the greatest perfection. It is there that you should listen to the love-song of the Mocking Bird, as I at this moment do.

. . . Different species of snakes ascend to their nests, and generally suck the eggs or swallow the young; but on all such occasions, not only the pair to which the nest belongs, but many other Mocking Birds from the vicinity, fly to the spot, attack the reptiles, and, in some cases, are so fortunate as either to force them to retreat, or deprive them of life.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 110-11.

“This pretty little warbler is migratory, and arrives in Louisiana from the South, in the beginning of spring.  It is found in open woods, as well as in the vicinity of ponds overgrown with low bushes and rank weeds.  Along with a pair of Blue-Winged Yellow Warblers, I have represented a species of Hibiscus, which grows on the edges of these ponds.  Its flowers are handsome, but unfortunately have no pleasant odour.

The species which now occupies our attention is a busy, active bird, and is seen diligently searching among the foliage and grasses for the small insects on which it feeds, mounting now and then towards the tops of the bushes, to utter a few weak notes, which are in no way interesting.”

–J. J. Audubon, Ornithological Biography, I (1831), 102.

“Much and justly as the song of the Nightingale is admired, I am inclined, after having often listened to it, to pronounce it in no degree superior to that of the Louisiana Water Thrush.  The notes of the latter bird are as powerful and mellow, and at times as varied.

This bird is a resident of the low lands of the states of Louisiana and Mississippi, and is to be found at all seasons in the deepest and most swampy of our cane brakes, from which its melodies are heard to a considerable distance, its voice being nearly as loud as that of the Wood Thrush.  The bird may be observed perched on a low bough scarcely higher than the tops of the canes, in an erect attitude, swelling its throat, and repeating several times in succession sounds so approaching the whole two octaves of a good piano-forte, as almost to induce the hearer to imagine that the keys of that instrument are used on the occasion.  The bird begins on the upper key, and progressively passes from one to another, until it reaches the base note, this last frequently being lost when there is the least agitation in the air.  Its song is heard even in the winter, when the weather is calm and warm.

[Of the Indian Turnip, upon which this bird is perched] . . . The flowers are green and purple, and the roots are used by Indians as a remedy for colic.”