The Audubon Reader (16 page)

You complain that we don’t write as often as you do. In fact, during a lapse of thirty months without hearing from you, we have written on all the following occasions: September 24th by Mr. Bakewell; November 9th, 1815, through South Carolina; October 8th, 1815, through Louisiana; January 5th, 1816, through Charleston; February 13th, 1816, through Charleston; April 6th, 1816, through New Orleans, and lastly, in answer to your June 8th letter through Louisiana, on the ship of Mr.
James Dupuis, the letter included in that of Mr. Rozier and finally this one in answer to your last letter. We give you all these details to show you the pleasure we have in writing to you and that we take all the chances we get [i.e., to send a letter by ship]. It is possible a large number of letters get lost—from you as well as from us.

In your first [letter] you gave us the details of your situation: the dissolution of your partnership with your brother-in-law, founded upon his marriage; this seems very agreeable and advantageous for you. You speak of at least 50,000 dollars. It’s the fortune of a rich man, since it would convert here to a capital of 275,000 francs. I’m not considered poor and live honorably, and my fortune, all included, doesn’t exceed 80,000 francs and when you say that in your country a rich man must own 100,000 dollars, it all depends on the place and the running of business which can turn more or less precarious. If I had the opportunity to put 3,000 dollars in the smallholding farm at Doly, I’d be considered a rich man. Events and vicissitudes that go along with great fortunes overseas make them much more exposed to ruin [than in Europe]. I’m a striking example, and if I could have restrained my ambitions I would be
today a very rich individual. The man in Nantes who earns a yearly pension of 10,000 francs from 200,000 francs, and who made 50–60,000 francs in business, not trying to overdo it, could have half a dozen children and would be well suited to give them all a brilliant education and honorable future positions. Witness Mr. Formont, a Creole from Santo Domingo, who has just been named a justice by our good king,
Louis XVIII. He made his fortune on the continent. Ever since our good constitutional charter, merit today now equals the most distinguished birth.

You push us to sell everything, to join our monies and to settle by your side. We’d just be small people there, whereas here we enjoy full consideration for our custom and our honesty, and although not really rich, our complete independence. From this, my friend, judge if it would not be reckless to move at our age.

In case you find these facts encouraging and wish to give us the immediate pleasure of your presence and that of your family in our old age, we would not advise you to come, putting your fortune in jeopardy. Instead, since you will need more time to fulfill your ambitions, you could pay alternatively 10 to 15,000 francs in merchandise to the address of your authorized representative, who is incapable of stealing but rather adds value to your funds until your arrival. When you consider your fortune in France to be sufficient, you could settle your affairs and come. We have here a great confidence in the fire pump, newly invented; it can change the face of things. There was just in England a great fire and a lot of people died. In case you would wish to turn a profit, the cotton industry offers an advantageous exchange.

Your reasoning is extremely wise; one does not dishonor himself by working. Youth, as you say so well, is quick in passing. It is useful to take advantage of it to ensure oneself of an honest existence in old age and that’s why I firmly believe that Europe provides more safety than the newly established countries where revolutions are more frequent. Ambition and great fortunes are usually their causes.

You speak sometimes of the misfortunes of France. They are over with, the government is legitimate and stable and free from all upheaval.

The country you live in is the best, the richest and beyond
compare to any other; you do good business there. Your enthusiasm is quite forgivable. You left France too early and in a state of shock to know what you can enjoy here. Your wife, having left Europe at a young age, could only have known the unhappiness that her father experienced in England and chose the United States instead, basing her choice, no doubt, on the great freedom you could find there—which is now only equal to ours.

Your good mother, Mrs. Audubon, would have a longer and fuller life if she could enjoy your presence. You know how much she loves you. Tell all your family how much we love them. We kiss your dear children, which are also ours, and would enlighten my old age as do those of [Audubon’s half-sister Rose and her husband Gabriel-Loyen] du Puigaudeau. Let us know if Mr. [Benjamin] Bakewell, who came to France, has arrived back to the United States in good form.

Your father and true friend,

Audubon

The Crow is an extremely shy bird, having found familiarity with man no way to his advantage. He is also cunning—at least he is so called, because he takes care of himself and his brood. The state of anxiety, I may say of terror, in which he is constantly kept, would be enough to spoil the temper of any creature. Almost every person has an antipathy to him, and scarcely one of his race would be left in the land did he not employ all his ingenuity and take advantage of all his experience in counteracting the evil machinations of his enemies. I think I see him perched on the highest branch of a tree, watching every object around. He observes a man on horseback traveling towards him; he marks his movements in silence. No gun does the rider carry, no, that is clear; but perhaps he has pistols in the holsters of his saddle! Of that the Crow is not quite sure, as he cannot either see them or “smell powder.” He beats the points of his wings, jerks his tail once or twice, bows his head and merrily sounds the joy which he feels at the moment. Another man he spies walking across the field towards his stand, but he has only a stick. Yonder comes a boy shouldering a musket loaded with large shot for the express purpose of killing crows! The bird immediately sounds an alarm; he repeats his cries, increasing their vehemence the nearer his enemy advances. All the crows within half a mile round are seen flying off, each repeating the well-known notes of the trusty watchman who, just as the young gunner is about to take aim, betakes himself to flight. But alas, he chances unwittingly to pass over a sportsman whose dexterity is greater; the mischievous prowler aims his piece, fires—down towards the earth, broken-winged, falls the luckless bird in an instant. “It is nothing but a
crow,” quoth the sportsman, who proceeds in search of game and leaves the poor creature to die in the most excruciating agonies.

Wherever within the Union the laws encourage the destruction of this species, it is shot in great numbers for the sake of the premium offered for each crow’s head. You will perhaps be surprised, reader, when I tell you that in one single state, in the course of a season, 40,000 were shot, besides the multitudes of young birds killed in their nests. Must I add to this slaughter other thousands destroyed by the base artifice of laying poisoned grain along the fields to tempt these poor birds? Yes, I will tell you of all this too. The natural feelings of everyone who admires the bounty of Nature in providing abundantly for the subsistence of all her creatures prompt me to do so. Like yourself, I admire all her wonderful works and respect her wise intentions even when her laws are far beyond our limited comprehension.

The Crow devours myriads of grubs every day of the year that might lay waste the farmer’s fields; it destroys quadrupeds innumerable, every one of which is an enemy to his poultry and his flocks. Why then should the farmer be so ungrateful when he sees such services rendered to him by a providential friend as to persecute that friend even to the death? Unless he plead ignorance, surely he ought to be found guilty at the bar of common sense. Were the soil of the United States, like that of some other countries, nearly exhausted by long continued cultivation, human selfishness in such a matter might be excused and our people might look on our Crows as other people look on theirs; but every individual in the land is aware of the superabundance of food that exists among us, and of which a portion may well be spared for the feathered beings that tend to enhance our pleasures by the sweetness of their song, the innocence of their lives or their curious habits. Did not every American open his door and his heart to the wearied traveler, and afford him food, comfort and rest, I would at once give up the argument; but when I know by experience the generosity of the people, I cannot but wish that they would reflect a little and become more indulgent toward our poor, humble, harmless and even most serviceable bird, the Crow.

The American Crow is common in all parts of the United States. It becomes gregarious immediately after the breeding season when
it forms flocks sometimes containing hundreds or even thousands. Towards autumn, the individuals bred in the Eastern Districts almost all remove to the Southern States, where they spend the winter in vast numbers.

The voice of our Crow is very different from that of the
European species which comes nearest to it in appearance, so much so indeed that this circumstance, together with others relating to its organization, has induced me to distinguish it, as you see, by a peculiar name, that of
Corvus Americanus
. I hope you will think me excusable in this, should my ideas prove to be erroneous, when I tell you that the
Magpie of Europe is assuredly the very same bird as that met with in the western wilds of the United States, although some ornithologists have maintained the contrary, and that I am not disposed to make differences in name where none exist in nature. I consider our Crow as rather less than the European one, and the form of its tongue does not resemble that of the latter bird; besides the
Carrion Crow of that country seldom associates in numbers, but remains in pairs excepting immediately after it has brought its young abroad, when the family remains undispersed for some weeks.

Wherever our Crow is abundant, the
Raven is rarely found, and
vice versa
. From Kentucky to New Orleans, Ravens are extremely rare, whereas in that course you find one or more Crows at every half mile. On the contrary, far up the Missouri as well as on the coast of
Labrador, few Crows are to be seen, while Ravens are common. I found the former birds equally scarce in
Newfoundland.

Omnivorous like the Raven, our Crow feeds on fruits, seeds and vegetables of almost every kind; it is equally fond of snakes, frogs, lizards and other small reptiles; it looks upon various species of worms, grubs and insects as dainties; and if hard pressed by hunger it will alight upon and devour even putrid carrion. It is as fond of the eggs of other birds as is the
Cuckoo, and like the
Titmouse, it will, during a paroxysm of anger, break in the skull of a weak or wounded bird. It delights in annoying its twilight enemies the
Owls, the
opossum, and the
raccoon and will even follow by day a
fox, a
wolf, a
panther or in fact any other carnivorous beast as if anxious that man should destroy them for their mutual benefit. It plunders the fields of their superabundance and is blamed for so
doing, but it is seldom praised when it chases the thieving
Hawk from the poultry yard.

The
American Crow selects with uncommon care its
breeding place. You may find its
nest in the interior of our most dismal swamps or on the sides of elevated and precipitous rocks, but almost always as much concealed from the eye of man as possible. They breed in almost every portion of the Union, from the Southern Cape of the Floridas to the extremities of Maine and probably as far westward as the Pacific Ocean. The period of nestling varies from February to the beginning of June according to the latitude of the place. Its scarcity on the coast of
Labrador furnishes one of the reasons that have induced me to believe it different from the
Carrion Crow of Europe; for there I met with several species of birds common to both countries, which seldom enter the United States farther than the vicinity of our most eastern boundaries.

The nest, however, greatly resembles that of the
European Crow, as much in fact as that of the American Magpie resembles the nest of the European. It is formed externally of dry sticks interwoven with grasses, and is within thickly plastered with mud or clay and lined with fibrous roots and feathers. The eggs are from four to six, of a pale greenish color, spotted and clouded with purplish-grey and brownish-green. In the Southern States they raise two broods in the season, but to the eastward seldom more than one. Both sexes incubate, and their parental care and mutual attachment are not surpassed by those of any other bird. Although the nests of this species often may be found near each other, their proximity is never such as occurs in the case of the
Fish Crow, of which many nests may be seen on the same tree.

When the nest of this species happens to be discovered, the faithful pair raise such a hue and cry that every Crow in the neighborhood immediately comes to their assistance, passing in circles high over the intruder until he has retired or following him, if he has robbed it, as far as their regard for the safety of their own will permit them. As soon as the young leave the nest, the family associates with others, and in this manner they remain in flocks till spring. Many crows’ nests may be found within a few acres of the same wood, and in this particular their habits accord more with those of the
Rooks of Europe which as you very well know breed
and spend their time in communities. The young of our Crow, like that of the latter species, are tolerable food when taken a few days before the period of their leaving the nest.