One day last week we were one of a party to pay a visit to the Pigeon roost in this vicinity. All we saw and did on that occasion would be more than our limits will allow for details. Suffice it it to say, that we never saw the like before. Pigeons by the thousand in front of us, to the right and to the left of us, and by millions all around us. Old ones clouded the air with their countless numbers and the young ones burdened the trees and bushes for miles in circumference. The "squabs" were just in their prime for the gridiron, and hundreds were being captured by the crowds of men, woman and children who made the forest ring with their shouts of merry glee. Strong men shook the saplings, little boys climbed the trees the women filled their aprons with the young birds. All infant pigeons that could not by strength of wing make their way to the highest trees met with a sure and certain fate.
To add to the pleasure of our excursion we met with a company of gentlemen from Carimona, who were encamped close by on the beautiful stream of Bear Creek, fully armed and equipped for capturing pigeons, trout, &c. By invitation we spent the night with these whole-souled good fellows, and never in our lives enjoyed a better time. We ate pigeons cooked in every style, until we "couldn't rest" without divers and sundry "night caps." Take it all together it was a time' long to be remembered, as all may expect who fall into the hands of the Carimona boys. But we must say, that we had pigeons enough too muck of a good thing is too much, and we believe the unanimous verdict of the party was that fat squabs, whiskey, and boiled eggs area mixture, which refuse most decidedly to mingle together.June 17, 1863. Goodhue Volunteer 7(47): 1. From the Chatfield Democrat.