Perfect Clouds of Pigeons Swarm Minnesota Wheat Fields

Never before, within our memory, have pigeons been so numerous as this year. They fly over in perfect clouds; they swarm upon the wheat fields in this section of the country, threatening the utter destruction of every seed sown. In some cases acre after acre of wheat has been picked up and swallowed by them after it had been sown, before it could be covered.

May 6, 1863. Pigeons. Goodhue Volunteer 7(11): 4.

Wild Pigeons in Vast Numbers in Minnesota

Wild pigeons are seen in vast number in Minnesota, near Chatfield. In such swarms have they appeared on some farms, that they are with great difficulty kept from gathering the wheat as fast as it is sown. Their settling upon the field and flight resemble great clouds. The prairie chickens are very numerous, and are doing much damage by picking up the newly-sown wheat.

May 15, 1863. [Wild pigeons in vast numbers in Minnesota.] Daily National Republican 3(143): 2.

Millions of Pigeons Nesting at Chatfield Minnesota

The Chatfield Democrat has been informed by a person who has counted the pigeons in the "Roost" near that village, that they number precisely 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000. As each nest is supposed to turn out two "squabs," the Democrat desires that some gentleman, who has the necessary leisure and mathematical ability, will calculate how many pigeons there will be in that roost "when the young 'uns are hatched." ...

May 11, 1864. Fillmore County. Winona Daily Republican 5(1351): 3.

A Sporting Country - Fort Snelling

Fort Snelling is a military post of the U. States in the territory of Iowa, situated at the foot of the Falls of St. Anthony, on the majestic Mississippi, just where it receives the tribute of the river St. Peters, in the latitude of 45, as far north as Passamaquoddy, on the Atlantic, and about 16 degrees longitude west of Washington. Of this out-of-the-way corner of the country, in the midst of the Indians, some of our readers have never heard, and probably but few have any definite idea of its adaptation to the purposes of civilized society. The following extract of a letter from a gentleman residing on the spot, to a friend here, gives, in a very few touches, a picture of this wild country that will charm the heart of the sportsman:

"In shooting I quite distinguished myself last summer. I must tell you the quantity of game I killed during the hunting season: 300 ducks (mallard, red, black, &c.) 266 grouse, about 360 pigeons, besides woodcock, plover, snipe, quail, pheasants, and various other birds. I have but one pointer dog, but next summer I shall have four, having three others in training. I also caught 156 fine brook trout, and a few bass, pike, &c.

"We have had several Indian battles since we have been here. The last one was between the Chippewas and the Sioux. The former, 150 in number, attacked the Sioux while the latter were in a drunken frolic. The Sioux fought bravely, and drove the Chippewas from their ground, and killed 5. The Sioux lost 14. They rushed madly into the battle, with nothing but a small knife or club, and in that way killed 5 of their enemies, whom they cut in piecemeal. The troops at the post were ordered out to prevent further shedding of blood. So you see that we have sports of all kinds and to suit all tastes."

April 27, 1843. A sporting country. Pittsfield Sun 43(2223): 1.

Midsummer - An 1878 Poem

Around this lovely valley rise

The purple hills of Paradise.

O, softly on yon banks of haze

Her rosy face the summer lays!

Becalmed along the azure sky

The argosies of cloudland lie,

Whose stores with many a shining rift,

Far off their pearl-white peaks uplift.

Through all the long midsummer day

The meadow sides are sweet with hay.

I seek the coolest sheltered seat,

Just where the field and forest meet —

Where grow the pine trees tall and bland,

The ancient oaks austere and grand,

The fringy roots and pebbles fret

The ripples of the rivulet.

I watch the mowers as they go

Through the tall grass, a white-sleeved row;

With even strokes their scythes they swing,

In tune with their merry whetstones ring.

Behind the nimble youngsters run,

And toss the thick swaths in the sun;

The cattle graze, while warm and still,

Slopes the broad pasture, basks the hill,

And bright, when summer breezes break,

The green wheat crinkles like a lake.

The butterfly and bumble-bee

Come to the pleasant woods with me;

Quickly before me runs the quail, 

The chickens skulk behind the rail,

High up the lone wood-pigeon sits,

And the woodpecker pecks and flits.

Sweet woodland music sinks and swells,

The brooklet rings its tinkling bells,

The swarming insects drone and hum,

The partridge beats his throbbing drum,

The squirrel leaps among the boughs,

And chatters in his leafy house;

The oriole flashes by; and look —

Into the mirror of the brook,

Where the vain blue-bird trims his coat,

Two tiny feathers fall and float.

As silently, as tenderly.

The dawn of peace descends on me.

O, this is peace! I have no need

Of friend to talk, or book to read;

A dear companion hear abides;

Close to my thrilling heart he bides;

The holy silence is His voice,

I lie, and listen, and rejoice.

August 22, 1878. Mower County Transcript 11(21): 5.

Passenger Pigeon Business - Minnesota

The Rush of Trappers - Heavy Shipments of the Birds Eastward.

Within the past few days large numbers of pigeon trappers have been coming into the State from Illinois, Wisconsin, and other States east of us, following up the flocks of pigeons and trapping them for Eastern markets. It is made a regular matter of business, and a most profitable one, too, if the statements of the trappers may be relied upon. How can it be otherwise, when it is estimated that a hundred trappers have gone out on the Winona and St. Peter Railroad within the past week, and still they come! Kasson appears to be the chief center just now, although the hunters scatter along at neighboring stations from there as far east as Rochester, over by Pine Island, Oronoco, and vicinity. Wherever the pigeons are there are the trappers gathered together with their wiles, their decoys and nets, catching the birds by the hundreds and shipping them by the barrel, to tickle the palates of Eastern epicures.

From Mr. Knight, the express agent at this place, we learn that the first shipment of pigeons for the season came East by express, from Kasson, last Thursday, the 8th inst., and consisted of ten barrels. Since then the shipments have increased daily, justifying the inference that the trappers are doing a land office business. On Monday, twenty-five barrels came down; Tuesday, thirty-eight; Wednesday, thirty-two; and so it will probably keep up for several days, until the pigeons fly to fields and (mis)fortunes new, only to be followed by the "onward march of civilization."

How the naughty trappers catch the poor little innocent pigeons whose only fault is pulling up a few grains of wheat, now and then (to be to their faults a little blind), may interest the reader, if he will take a description of the modus operandi, second hand. The trapper has a long net, varying according to his pleasure and ability to manage it, from thirty to fifty or sixty feet in length. Width, probably, ten, twelve, or fourteen feet. This net is spread upon the ground, while at one side is scattered a tempting banquet for the coming victims. Pigeons are treated exactly on the same plan adopted for "the lords of creation." Whenever any nice little scheme of diplomacy is on foot a judicious feeler is advanced in the way of an inviting repast, and under the pacifying influence of a well stored interior the negotiations proceed harmoniously.

But aside from the grain the trappers have another decoy. They capture a pigeon, and perform the operation of refined cruelty by blinding it by stitching its eyelids together, in order that it will not struggle to free itself when the pigeons come around. The trapper himself is ambushed in a rustic bower at a convenient distance, where he can manipulate the net and cause the decoy pigeon to rise from the spring stool when a flock comes flying over. Seeing this fellow pigeon "living in clover," and flying up a little way and then dropping again, as is the coaxing way of the birds, the flock accept the invitation and descend upon the grain, which they have no sooner fairly commenced upon than the trap is sprung and they find themselves pinned under the net.

Then the slaughter commences. The trapper passes quickly among them, picking them up one by one and pinching their heads between his thumb and forefinger, making quick and almost painless death for the captives. The operation is sudden but effective, the tender bones of the head being crushed in by the process. As fast as this is done the birds are thrown into a pile to await the dressing operation, which consists in removing the inwards and roughly plucking the feathers, after which the birds are washed, packed in barrels with ice, and started upon their journey by express.

One old trapper said he has been in the business thirty years, but even this statement was outdone in importance by the succeeding one that he paid to the express company, last season, five thousand dollars for charges on his shipment of pigeons. His bill of telegraphing amounted to two thousand dollars. We understand that the pigeons net the trappers forty-eight dollars per barrel, in New York, there being from thirty to thirty-five dozen in a barrel. In Winona, pigeons are selling at $1.25 per dozen.

A few years ago there were large pigeon roosts at Chatfield and near Wabashaw, and now, after slighting their old haunts for a while, the birds are coming back again.

May 15, 1873. City and Vicinity. The Pigeon Business. Winona Daily Republican 14(4123): 3.

Song of the Thrush in the North Woods - Leaves from the Notebook of an Old Nature Student

By Sandy Griswold.

Just this side of Silentland, the highway leading down

Rounds a bend beside a brook and winds through Dreamland town.

A place of mist and memories - where bare and there we see

Quaint, half-forgotten little scenes from days that used to be

Sweet pictures from long vanished dreams that swiftly fade away,

Dissolving in the misty sheets like stars at dawn of day.

If we try to catch and hold them, we may stretch a wistful hand,

But never stop along the road that leads to Silentland.

With sucre sentiment possessing me on this gentle late May morning there is a sound, a bit of a wild song, that comes with almost the same refreshing sweetness with which it filled my hearing, one glorious June sunset on the shores of a dimpled lake, way up in the north woods, "in one of those days that used to be."

Have You Ever Heard It?

Wonder if you ever have listened to the good night chanson of a vesper thrush on a heavenly May of June evening in the music halls of that favored state to the north of us - Minnesota? If you have been so fortunate than you have heard the goodnight arietta of the most gifted avian songster of this section of the world - an exquisite ecstasy as the twilight falls.

And if you have heard this touching little ditty, then so have you thrilled, by the pastoral passion of his rare lyrical achievement in the moonlight, or lain awake in tent or cottage, as I have, many's the time, on my summer fishing trips and enjoyed his are melodies that he is so fond of offering beneath the stars.

Often, too, I have heard the romance of those favored nooks, while skulking amidst their greeneries after the illusive black bass, made vocal with his sweet tunefulness, often no more than the whiff of a subtle fragrance in the nostrils, and which, with the Father's sanction, I hope to hear ere again the last of the present glorious month.

None Can Praise Too Highly.

I cannot be too lavish with my praise of this bird and his operatic power. All that love can hope and dare and dream of is melted into a harmony that but seldom greets the ear, and neither am I forgetful of our own sweet robin, our bluebird, brown thrasher ad our dazzling oriole, for the tenderest of all combined, is embodied, particularly in the vesper's evening spiritual carillon. In that low, sweet score echoes and re-echoes through the fading daylight over the quiet land of locust, crabapple, grape and dogwood, the rarest and clearest melody of all bird song; a silvery chime inimitable.

While the most of the bird lover's are familiar with the song of our commonest birds, there are comparatively few of them who get to hear, or recognize when they do hear it, the songs of the rarer ones, and in explaining the extraordinary character of the vesper thrush's song, I will say in the confusion of its range is the lonely, faraway call of the bluebird, the cooing of the turtle dove, and then, again outrivaling the most ecstatic flights of the grosbeak, catbird, oriole, meadow lark, redwing, chewink and robin, mingled with a delightful myriad of notes distinctly its own and which, in my humble esteem, has made it the leading musician of the American woods.

The True Woodland Minstrel.

The vesper thrush, I add, is the one true woodland minstrel in the opinion of many of the best know authorities and as anomalous as it might seem, has both the wildness and the sociability of the rarest of our birds.

It is called by many the hermit thrush, which is probably the preferable name, but I like that of vesper best, as on his lute he often warbles in arpeggios, or it might be said in different keys. As to voice, however, unless one would consider the certain tones of a high pitched silver bell, it is absolutely musically perfect, notwithstanding the claim of learned professors that there is no music in any bird song, which you will agree with me is highly absurd.

Neither the brown thrasher nor the white-throated sparrow, two of the most gifted troubadours of all our woodlands, sing in arpeggios, nor in different keys, yet the notes of both are wondrously sweet, and in the thrasher, but not in the white throat, the quality varies and is often guilty of some really harsh sounds. All of the ways of this lovely bird are gentle, graceful and tender, suggesting the ethereal sweetness of his song, almost an embodiment, may I say it, of visible melody.

Heard in No Other Voice.

There is an indescribable wild woodsy quality, particularly, in his evening hymn, heard in the notes of no other avian chorister, and heard as I heard it will rambling amidst the devious wilds of the north woods, there is really something that reaches the heart in the flutings of this matchless songster - a lyric overflowing with the rhythm of a prayer of ecstasy.

When the eggs are laid, he establishes his concert hall very near his setting mare, and keeps increasing watch over her, and the song he sings to her seems to express the spirit of heavenly peace, with which it is truly imbued. When the little ones come his whole menage revolves about the nursery; he never goes beyond the reach of the call of the little mother.

In closing, I will say, the inspiration of poets and the despair of musicians have in vain tried to write the elusive and mystic melody of this birds' song into technical score and failed, as they have invariably with commoner and easier subjects, but yet, I repeat, in my regard, this little chestnut-colored sprite is the peer of any in the whole realm of bird repertoire.

June 3, 1928. Omaha Sunday World-Herald 63(36): 5-B. Leaves from the Notebook of an Old Nature Student.

Birdly Aspect of Names for Ojibways in the Pembina Band

People of the Pembina Band had a number of names derived from a birdly aspect. These natives lived among the prairie lands in the northeast corner of North Dakota, and were recognized as the most westerly dwelling tribe of the Ojibway nation.

"The following are some of the names, with their meanings, of that part of the band located on White Earth reservation who were living there in 1878," as reported by J.A. Gilfillan. This roster is based on a sample of the 194 names given for the 543 Indians and half-breeds which received annuities at this reserve. The list, given by this particular scribe, started with the chief, but it was his wife that was the first person given with a name related to some aspect of birds. This following material is directly from the article published in 1908.

Caa-tou-see, an Ojibwa. Originally painted by Charles Bird King. Lithographed, colored and published ca. 1836-44 by J.T. Bowen.

There is so much unsaid for this list, where nothing is given to denote how the name was attributed, or to, perhaps, graphically show the name. None-the-less, the information is part of the expansive record of historic ornithology known for another band of the first people that had once been resident on their expansive lands and territories.

¶ Se-se-gush-ik, She-who-is-afraid-as-she-flies.

¶ Kek-kek-wash, Flies-like-a-hawk.

¶ Gin-u-wash-ik, She-flies-as-a-war-eagle (N.B. The war eagle is considered by the Ojibways the noblest of all birds. So she flies very nobly).

¶ Wa-bi-ke-kek, White-hawk.

¶ A-bi-ta-ke-kek, Middle-hawk.

¶ Ka-bon-e, He-alights, (as a bird does, ceasing flying).

¶ Ke-be-givim-e-ash, He-who-with-his-feathers-sails-the-whole-course-to-the-end, (as a bird does).

¶ Nud-we-ash-ik, She-makes-a-sound-in-flying, (as a bird does.)

¶ Go-dji-ash-ik, She-tries-to-fly, (as a young bird does.)

¶ Man-i-do-bin-es, Spirit-bird, (not an ordinary bird, but supernatural).

¶ O-nub-i-win-i-ni, The-man-who-is-going-to-settle-on-a thing, (As a bird would hover over its nest about to sit or as a man would be about to settle on a piece of land.)

¶ Te-bus-ash-ik, She-flies-low, (as a bird does.)

¶ Azh-i-de-as-um-ok, The-woman-who-emits-lightnings-crosswise, (the thunder-bird, who according to their belief, causes thunder and lightning - the former his voice, the latter the flashes from his opening eyes - sometimes emits one flash and then another crosswise to it.)

¶ Gi-zhi-go-bin-es-ik, The-heavenly-bird-woman, (That is one conception of a woman, she is a bird, but this one is not an earthly bird, but a heavenly one.)

¶ Mesh-a-ki-wim-i-bin-es-ik, The-woman-bird-who-comes-down-out-of-the-sky-over-head-to-the-earth-and-remains, (we often see a bird do this. This is another conception of a woman as a being who has come down from Heaven to this earth.)

¶ Me-cud-e-wi-gum-eb, He-who-is-black-feather-sitting, (this man wears a black feather and is known by it.)

¶ O-zha-wush-ko-gin-u, The-blue-war-eagle.

¶ Bin-es-i-wi-gi-zhig, Sky-full-of-birds, (We often see such a sky.)

¶ Ga-ga-gi-wi-gwun, Raven-feather.

¶ Wa-bi-gin-u, White-war-eagle, (as has been said above the Indians consider the war eagle the noblest of all birds and consequently wear its feathers in their hair.)

¶ Ga-ki-zhi-ash-ik, The-woman-who-keeps-flying-fast-from-time-to-time, (she always keeps flying fast.)

¶ Sa-gi-qua-um-ok, The-woman-of-the-thunder-birds-that-come-out-in-the-open, (We often see a thunder cloud - in which are the thunder birds according to the Indians' ideas - rising just above the horizon mounting higher in plain sight. This woman is one of those thunder birds in that cloud.)

¶ Bin-es-i-wun-ga-wid-dji-wad. He-who-went-with-the-birds, (the birds of thunder or some other distinguished birds were flying over; he rose in the air and went with them.)

¶ Mes-co-gwun, Red Feather, (he wears that kind in his hair.)

¶ Ge-wuz-is-wun-e-bik, Woman-sitting-upon-and-hiding-her-nest, (As a bird does. She is such a one.)

¶ Ga-gin-u-ash, War-eagle-flying.

¶ Min-o-gwun-e-ash, Pleasant-feather-sailing (or flying.)

¶ Gin-u-ga-min-o-ta-go-zit, War-eagle-that-makes-a-pleasant-sound, (The war eagle, as before explained, is considered by the Indians the noblest of all birds; this man is such a one, and in addition makes a pleasant sound when he sings.)

¶ Ke-be-gwin-e, He-has-feathers-(or is feathered) all-the-way-to-the-end, (he lives to be extremely old but his feathers never drop off. He never becomes bald.)

¶ Ne-na-ash, Adjusts-his-feathers-as-he-flies, (a bird does thus.)

¶ O-zha-wush-ko-bin-es, Green-bird, (has green plumage.)

¶ O-djan-i-mi-bin-es, Hurry-flying-bird, (Sometimes we see a bird darting hither and thither in great agitation. He is such.)

¶ Na-na-i-gwun-e-ash, Keeps-adjusting-his-feathers-as-he-flies.

¶ Gi-zhi-ba-no-din-ong-e-bid, A-bird-that-is-going-to-fly-round-and-round-in-a-whirlwind.

¶ Mes-co-givun-eb, Red-feather-sitting, (he has a red feather in his hair.)

¶ Bi-wa-bik-co-gwun-eb-ik, Iron-feather-sitting-female, (The feather she wears is iron.)

¶ Od-ay-and-dji-gwun-eb-ik, She-who-changes-her-feathers-as-she-sits, (A woman can change her clothes sitting, take off one dress and put on another, changing, as it were, her feathers. This woman is such a changing feather bird.)

¶ Ni-ta-wi-gwun,eb-ik, She-know-how-to-sit-with-her-feathers, (as a bird does.)

¶ Mem-we-we-ash, He-who-sounds-lovely-when-flying, (the motions of his pinions through the air, or his voice as he calls.)

¶ Ga-bid-we-ash-ik, She-whose-sound-comes-towards-us-as-she-flies-approaching-us, (a bird's sound comes toward us as it approaches flying, so she.)

¶ Ge-now-i-gwun-eb, He-sitting-with-long-feathers.

¶ Ko-ko-ko-ons, Little-owl.

¶ Kek-kek-onsh-ish, Bad-little-hawk.

These names are another perspective which so vividly conveys — in a distinctly unique manner — what role birds and their lore and habits meant to the first people, and how the local species were honored by evocative names. Many of the names allude to bird behavior, with only a few seemingly derived from a particular species.

Jack-o-pa the Six, a Chippewa chief. Originally painted by Charles Bird King. Lithographed, colored and published ca. 1836-44 by J.T. Bowen.

The proper names are much more than a simple attribution like a plain Jane or simple Joe. They convey action and behavior and motions and other notable attributes deriving power from nature. When tribal members talked with each other using their given name of this time in history, meaning and characteristics were an essential consideration and understanding.

Subtle, yet profound, tribal lore and mythology is inherent in some of the proper names, evoking a profound intimacy which the people had with the land and its natural residents. Different species were significant in the earthly realm through the mythical knowledge of tribal elders.

The following were from a subsequent list of names that received tribal annuities at Wild Rice River, in 1895. This locality is now within Norman County, Minnesota.

¶ O-za-wi-ke-kek, Yellow-hawk.

¶ Shi-shi-bens, Little-duck.

¶ Me-shuk-ki-a-bun-dunk, He-who-descending-from-the-sky-overhead (as a bird does) looks-down-to-the-bottom-of-the-water-and-sees-the-thing.

¶ O-me-zhuk,ki-wi-bi-es, Bird-that-flies-downward-to-the-earth-from-the-sky-overhead-and-remains, (That is one conception of a man, namely, that he is a bird that has come down from the sky.)

¶ Kish-ki-mun-i-se, The-kingfisher.

¶ Ke-ke-kon-shish, The-bad-little-hawk.

¶ Se-se-gash-ik, She-who-is-afraid-as-she-flies.

This set of names has at least one particular reference to a particular species. Raptors and ducks, two common species of the tribal territory, continued to be a basis for naming.Another continues the mythical consideration of women and men having descended to an earthly existence, from the great skies above.

This tribal crest for the Anishinaabe People, of the Ojibway, mimics the great thunder bird, so the winged ones were obviously of some importance.