The Young Voyageurs: Boy Hunters in the North Page 3

  CHAPTER THREE.

  THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE.

  It was the spring season, though late. The snow had entirelydisappeared from the hills, and the ice from the water, and the meltingof both had swollen the river, and rendered its current more rapid thanusual. Our young voyageurs needed not therefore to ply their oars,except now and then to guide the canoe; for these little vessels have norudder, but are steered by the paddles. The skilful voyageurs can shootthem to any point they please, simply by their dexterous handling of theoars; and Basil, Lucien, and Francois, had had sufficient practice bothwith "skiffs" and "dugouts" to make good oarsmen of all three. They hadmade many a canoe trip upon the lower Mississippi and the bayous ofLouisiana; besides their journey up the Saint Peter's had rendered themfamiliar with the management of their birchen craft. An occasionalstroke of the paddle kept them in their course, and they floated onwithout effort. Norman--such was the name of their Canadian or Highlandcousin--sat in the bow and directed their course. This is the post ofhonour in a canoe; and as he had more experience than any of them inthis sort of navigation, he was allowed habitually to occupy this post.Lucien sat in the stern. He held in his hands a book and pencil; and asthe canoe glided onward, he was noting down his memoranda. The treesupon the banks were in leaf--many of them in blossom--and as the littlecraft verged near the shore, his keen eye followed the configuration ofthe leaves, to discover any new species that might appear. There is arich vegetation upon the banks of the Red River; but the _flora_ is fardifferent from that which appears upon the low _alluvion_ of Louisiana.It is Northern, but not Arctic. Oaks, elms, and poplars, are seenmingling with birches, willows, and aspens. Several species ofindigenous fruit trees were observed by Lucien, among which werecrab-apple, raspberry, strawberry, and currant. There was also seen thefruit called by the voyageurs "le poire," but which in Englishphraseology is known as the "service-berry" (_Amelanchier ovalis_). Itgrows upon a small bush or shrub of six or eight feet high, with smoothpinnate leaves. These pretty red berries are much esteemed and eatenboth by Indians and whites, who preserve them by drying, and cook themin various ways. There was still another bush that fixed the attentionof our young botanist, as it appeared all along the banks, and was a_characteristic_ of the vegetation of the country. It was not overeight feet in height, with spreading branches of a grey colour. Itsleaves were three inches wide, and somewhat lobed liked those of theoak. Of course, at this early season, the fruit was not ripe upon it;but Lucien knew the fruit well. When ripe it resembles very much a redcherry, or, still more, a cranberry, having both the appearance andacrid taste of the latter. Indeed, it is sometimes used as a substitutefor cranberries in the making of pies and tarts; and in many parts it iscalled the "bush cranberry." The name, however, by which it is knownamong the Indians of Red River is "_anepeminan_," from "_nepen_,"summer, and "_minan_" berry. This has been corrupted by the fur-tradersand voyageurs into "Pembina;" hence, the name of a river which runs intothe Red, and also he name of the celebrated but unsuccessful settlementof "Pembina," formed by Lord Selkirk many years ago. Both took theirnames from this berry that grows in abundance in the neighbourhood. Thebotanical appellation of this curious shrub is _Viburnum oxycoccos_; butthere is another species of the viburnum, which is also styled"oxycoccos." The common "snowball bush" of our gardens is a plant ofthe same genus, and very like the "Pembina" both in leaf and flower. Infact, in a wild state they might be regarded as the same; but it iswell-known that the flowers of the snowball are sterile, and do notproduce the beautiful bright crimson berries of the "Pembina." Lucienlectured upon these points to his companions as they floated along.Norman listened with astonishment to his philosophic cousin, who,although he had never been in this region before, knew more of itsplants and trees than he did himself. Basil also was interested in theexplanations given by his brother. On the contrary, Francois, who caredbut little for botanical studies, or studies of any sort, was occupieddifferently. He sat near the middle of the canoe, double-barrel inhand, eagerly watching for a shot. Many species of water-fowl were uponthe river, for it was now late in the spring, and the wild geese andducks had all arrived, and were passing northward upon their annualmigration. During the day Francois had got several shots, and had"bagged" three wild geese, all of different kinds, for there are manyspecies of wild geese in America. He had also shot some ducks. Butthis did not satisfy him. There was a bird upon the river that couldnot be approached. No matter how the canoe was manoeuvred, this shycreature always took flight before Francois could get within range. Fordays he had been endeavouring to kill one. Even upon the Saint Peter'smany of them had been seen, sometimes in pairs, at other times in smallflocks of six or seven, but always shy and wary. The very difficulty ofgetting a shot at them, along with the splendid character of the birdsthemselves, had rendered Francois eager to obtain one. The bird itselfwas no other than the great wild swan--the king of aquatic birds.

  "Come, brother!" said Francois, addressing Lucien, "bother yourviburnums and your oxycocks! Tell us something about these swans. See!there goes another of them! What a splendid fellow he is! I'd givesomething to have him within range of buck-shot."

  As Francois spoke he pointed down-stream to a great white bird that wasseen moving out from the bank. It was a swan, and one of the verylargest kind--a "trumpeter" (_Cygnus buccinator_).

  It had been feeding in a sedge of the wild rice (_Zizania aquatica_),and no doubt the sight of the canoe or the plash of the guiding oar haddisturbed, and given it the alarm. It shot out from the reeds with headerect and wings slightly raised, offering to the eyes of the voyageurs aspectacle of graceful and majestic bearing, that, among the featheredrace at least, is quite inimitable.

  A few strokes of its broad feet propelled it into the open water nearthe middle of the stream, when, making a half wheel, it turned head downthe river, and swam with the current.

  At the point where it turned it was not two hundred yards ahead of thecanoe. Its apparent boldness in permitting them to come so near withouttaking wing, led Francois to hope that they might get still nearer; and,begging his companions to ply the paddles, he seized hold of hisdouble-barrel, and leaned forward in the canoe. Basil also conceived ahope that a shot was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and looked tothe cock and cap. The others went steadily and quietly to work at theoars. In a few moments the canoe cleft the current at the rate of agalloping horse, and one would have supposed that the swan must eitherat once take wing or be overtaken.

  Not so, however. The "trumpeter" knew his game better than that. Hehad full confidence both in his strength and speed upon the water. Hewas not going to undergo the trouble of a fly, until the necessity arosefor so doing; and, as it was, he seemed to be satisfied that thatnecessity had not yet arrived. The swim cost him much less muscularexertion than flying would have done, and he judged that the current,here very swift, would carry him out of reach of his pursuers.

  It soon began to appear that he judged rightly; and the voyageurs, totheir chagrin, saw that, instead of gaining upon him, as they hadexpected, every moment widened the distance between him and the canoe.The bird had an advantage over his pursuers. Three distinct powerspropelled him, while they had only two to rely upon. He had the currentin his favour--so had they. He had oars or paddles--his feet; they hadoars as well. He "carried sail," while they spread not a "rag." Thewind chanced to blow directly down-stream, and the broad wings of thebird, held out from his body, and half extended, caught the very pith ofthe breeze on their double concave surfaces, and carried him through thewater with the velocity of an arrow. Do you think that he was not awareof this advantage when he started in the race? Do you suppose thatthese birds do not _think_? I for one am satisfied they do, and lookupon every one who prates about the _instinct_ of these creatures as aphilosopher of a very old school indeed. Not only does the great swanthink, but so does your parrot, and your piping bullfinch, and thelittle canary that hops on your
thumb. All think, and _reason_, and_judge_. Should it ever be your fortune to witness the performance ofthose marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful MademoiselleVandermeersch in the fashionable _salons_ of Paris and London, you willagree with me in the belief that the smallest of them has a mind likeyourself.

  Most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were pursuing, thought, andreasoned, and judged, and calculated his distance, and resolved to keepon "the even tenor of his way," without putting himself to extra troubleby beating the air with his wings, and lifting his heavy body--thirtypounds at least--up into the heavens. His judgment proved sound; for,in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he hadgained a clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, and continued to widenthe distance. At intervals he raised his beak higher than usual, anduttered his loud booming note, which fell upon the ears of the voyageursas though it had been sent back in mockery and defiance.

  They would have given up the pursuit, had they not noticed that a fewhundred yards farther down the river made a sharp turn to the right.The swan, on reaching this, would no longer have the wind in his favour.This inspired them with fresh hopes. They thought they would be ableto overtake him after passing the bend, and then, either get a shot athim, or force him into the air. The latter was the more likely; and,although it would be no great gratification to see him fly off, yet theyhad become so interested in this singular chase that they desired toterminate it by putting the trumpeter to some trouble. They bent,therefore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward in thepursuit. First the swan, and after him the canoe, swung round the bend,and entered the new "reach" of the river. The voyageurs at onceperceived that the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer "carriedsail," as the wind was no longer in his favour. His wings lay closelyfolded to his body, and he moved only by the aid of his webbed feet andthe current, which last happened to be sluggish, as the river at thispart spread over a wide expanse of level land. The canoe was evidentlycatching up, and each stroke was bringing the pursuers nearer to thepursued.

  After a few minutes' brisk pulling, the trumpeter had lost so muchground that he was not two hundred yards in the advance, and "deadahead." His body was no longer carried with the same gracefulness, andthe majestic curving of his neck had disappeared. His bill protrudedforward, and his thighs began to drag the water in his wake. He wasevidently on the threshold of flight. Both Francois and Basil saw this,as they stood with their guns crossed and ready.

  At this moment a shrill cry sounded over the water. It was the screamof some wild creature, ending in a strange laugh, like the laugh of amaniac!

  On both sides of the river there was a thick forest of tall trees of thecotton-wood species (_Populus angustifolia_). From this forest thestrange cry had proceeded, and from the right bank. Its echoes hadhardly ceased, when it was answered by a similar cry from the trees uponthe left. So like were the two, that it seemed as if some one of God'swild creatures was mocking another. These cries were hideous enough tofrighten any one not used to them. They had not that effect upon ourvoyageurs, who knew their import. One and all of them were familiarwith the voice of the _white-headed eagle_!

  The trumpeter knew it as well as any of them, but on him it produced afar different effect. His terror was apparent, and his intention wasall at once changed. Instead of rising into the air, as he hadpremeditated, he suddenly lowered his head, and disappeared under thewater!

  Again was heard the wild scream and the maniac laugh; and the nextmoment an eagle swept out from the timber, and, after a few strokes ofits broad wing, poised itself over the spot where the trumpeter had gonedown. The other, its mate, was seen crossing at the same time from theopposite side.

  Presently the swan rose to the surface, but his head was hardly out ofthe water when the eagle once more uttered its wild note, and, halffolding its wings, darted down from above. The swan seemed to haveexpected this, for before the eagle could reach the surface, he had goneunder a second time, and the latter, though passing with the velocity ofan arrow, plunged his talons in the water to no purpose. With a cry ofdisappointment the eagle mounted back into the air, and commencedwheeling in circles over the spot. It was now joined by its mate, andboth kept round and round watching for the reappearance of theirintended victim.

  Again the swan came to the surface, but before either of the eaglescould swoop upon him he had for the third time disappeared. The swan isbut an indifferent diver; but under such circumstances he was likely todo his best at it. But what could it avail him? He must soon rise tothe surface to take breath--each time at shorter intervals. He wouldsoon become fatigued and unable to dive with sufficient celerity, andthen his cruel enemies would be down upon him with their terribletalons. Such is the usual result, unless the swan takes to the air,which he sometimes does. In the present case he had built his hopesupon a different means of escape. He contemplated being able to concealhimself in a heavy sedge of bulrushes (_Scirpus lacustris_) that grewalong the edge of the river, and towards these he was evidentlydirecting his course under the water. At each emersion he appeared someyards nearer them, until at length he rose within a few feet of theirmargin, and diving again was seen no more! He had crept in among thesedge, and no doubt was lying with only his head, or part of it, abovethe water, his body concealed by the broad leaves of the _nymphae_,while the head itself could not be distinguished among the white flowersthat lay thickly along the surface. The eagles now wheeled over thesedge, flapping the tops of the bulrushes with their broad wings, andscreaming with disappointed rage. Keen as were their eyes they couldnot discover the hiding-place of their victim. No doubt they would havesearched for it a long while, but the canoe--which they now appeared tonotice for the first time--had floated near; and, becoming aware oftheir own danger, both mounted into the air again, and with a farewellscream flew off, and alighted at some distance down the river.

  "A swan for supper!" shouted Francois, as he poised his gun for theexpected shot.

  The canoe was headed for the bulrushes near the point where thetrumpeter had been last seen; and a few strokes of the paddles broughtthe little craft with a whizzing sound among the sedge. But the culmsof the rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, that thecanoemen, after entering, found to their chagrin they could not see sixfeet around them. They dared not stand up, for this is exceedinglydangerous in a birch canoe, where the greatest caution is necessary tokeep the vessel from careening over. Moreover, the sedge was so thick,that it was with difficulty they could use their oars. They remainedstationary for a time, surrounded by a wall of green bulrush. They soonperceived that that would never do, and resolved to push back into theopen water. Meanwhile Marengo had been sent into the sedge, and was nowheard plunging and sweltering about in search of the game. Marengo wasnot much of a water-dog by nature, but he had been trained to almostevery kind of hunting, and his experience among the swamps of Louisianahad long since relieved him of all dread for the water. His masterstherefore had no fear but that Marengo would "put up" the trumpeter.

  Marengo had been let loose a little too soon. Before the canoe could becleared of the entangling sedge, the dog was heard to utter one of hisloud growls, then followed a heavy plunge, there was a confusedfluttering of wings, and the great white bird rose majestically into theair! Before either of the gunners could direct their aim, he was beyondthe range of shot, and both prudently reserved their fire. Marengohaving performed his part, swam back to the canoe, and was lifted overthe gunwale. The swan, after clearing the sedge, rose almost verticallyinto the air. These birds usually fly at a great elevation--sometimesentirely beyond the reach of sight. Unlike the wild geese and ducks,they never alight upon land, but always upon the bosom of the water. Itwas evidently the intention of this one to go far from the scene of hislate dangers, perhaps to the great Lake Winnipeg itself. Afterattaining a height of several hundred yards, he flew forward in ahorizontal course, and followed the direction of the stream. His flightwas
now regular, and his trumpet-note could be heard at intervals, as,with outstretched neck, he glided along the heavens. He seemed to feelthe pleasant sensations that every creature has after an escape fromdanger, and no doubt he fancied himself secure. But in this fancy hedeceived himself. Better for him had he risen a few hundred yardshigher, or else had uttered his self-gratulation in a more subdued tone;for it was heard and answered, and that response was the maniac laugh ofthe white-headed eagle. At the same instant two of these birds--thosealready introduced--were seen mounting into the air. They did not flyup vertically, as the swan had done, but in spiral curves, wheeling andcrossing each other as they ascended. They were making for a point thatwould intersect the flight of the swan should he keep on in hishorizontal course. This, however, he did not do. With an eye as quickas theirs, he saw that he was "headed;" and, stretching his long neckupward, he again pursued an almost vertical line. But he had to carrythirty pounds of flesh and bones, while the largest of the eagles--thefemale bird--with a still broader spread of wing, was a "light weight"of only seven. The result of this difference was soon apparent. Beforethe trumpeter had got two hundred yards higher, the female of the eagleswas seen wheeling around him on the same level. The swan was nowobserved to double, fly downward, and then upward again, while hismournful note echoed back to the earth. But his efforts were in vain.After a series of contortions and manoeuvres, the eagle darted forward,with a quick toss threw herself back downward, and, striking upward,planted her talons in the under part of the wing of her victim. Thelacerated shaft fell uselessly down; and the great white bird, no longercapable of flight, came whistling through the air. But it was notallowed to drop directly to the earth; it would have fallen on the bosomof the broad river, and that the eagles did not wish, as it would havegiven them some trouble to get the heavy carcass ashore. As soon as themale--who was lower in the air--saw that his partner had struck thebird, he discontinued his upward flight, and, poising himself on hisspread tail, waited its descent. A single instant was sufficient. Thewhite object passed him still fluttering; but the moment it was belowhis level he shot after it like an arrow, and, clutching it in histalons, with an outward stroke sent it whizzing in a diagonal direction.The next moment a crashing was heard among the twigs, and a dull soundannounced that the swan had fallen upon the earth.

  The eagles were now seen sailing downward, and soon disappeared amongthe tops of the trees.

  The canoe soon reached the bank; and Francois, accompanied by Basil andMarengo, leaped ashore, and went in search of the birds. They found theswan quite dead and lying upon its back as the eagles had turned it.Its breast was torn open, and the crimson blood, with which they hadbeen gorging themselves, was spread in broad flakes over its snowyplumage. The eagles themselves, scared by the dog Marengo, had takenflight before the boys could get within shot of them.

  As it was just the hour for a "noon halt" and a luncheon, the swan wascarried to the bank of the river, where a crackling fire was soonkindled to roast him; and while this operation was going on the"naturalist" was requested by his companions to give them an account ofthe "swans of America."