Author: Mayne Reid
Category: Childrens
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CHAPTER III
THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE
It was the spring season, though late. The snow had entirely disappearedfrom the hills, and the ice from the water, and the melting of both hadswollen the river, and rendered its current more rapid than usual. Ouryoung voyageurs needed not therefore to ply their oars, except now andthen to guide the canoe; for these little vessels have no rudder, butare steered by the paddles. The skilful voyageurs can shoot them to anypoint they please, simply by their dexterous handling of the oars; andBasil, Lucien, and Francois, had had sufficient practice both with"skiffs" and "dug-outs" to make good oarsmen of all three. They had mademany a canoe trip upon the lower Mississippi and the bayous ofLouisiana; besides their journey up the St. 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 Highland cousin--sat inthe bow and directed their course. This is the post of honour in acanoe; and as he had more experience than any of them in this sort ofnavigation, he was allowed habitually to occupy this post. Lucien sat inthe stern. He held in his hands a book and pencil; and as the canoeglided onward, he was noting down his memoranda. The trees upon thebanks were in leaf--many of them in blossom--and as the little craftverged near the shore, his keen eye followed the configuration of theleaves, to discover any new species that might appear.
There is a rich vegetation upon the banks of the Red River; but the_flora_ is far different from that which appears upon the low _alluvion_of Louisiana. It is Northern, but not Arctic. Oaks, elms, and poplars,are seen mingling 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." It grows upon a small bushor shrub of six or eight feet high, with smooth pinnate leaves. Thesepretty red berries are much esteemed and eaten both by Indians andwhites, who preserve them by drying, and cook them in various ways.
There was still another bush that fixed the attention of our youngbotanist, as it appeared all along the banks, and was a _characteristic_of the vegetation of the country. It was not over eight feet in height,with spreading branches of a grey-colour. Its leaves were three incheswide, and somewhat lobed like those of the oak. Of course, at this earlyseason, the fruit was not ripe upon it; but Lucien knew the fruit well.When ripe it resembles very much a red cherry, or, still more, acranberry, having both the appearance and acrid taste of the latter.Indeed, it is sometimes used as a substitute for cranberries in themaking of pies and tarts; and in many parts it is called the "bushcranberry."
The name, however, by which it is known among the Indians of Red Riveris "_anepeminan_" from "_nepen_," summer, and "_minan_," berry. This hasbeen corrupted by the fur-traders and voyageurs into "Pembina;" hence,the name of a river which runs into the Red, and also the name of thecelebrated but unsuccessful settlement of "Pembina," formed by LordSelkirk many years ago. Both took their names from this berry that growsin abundance in the neighbourhood. The botanical appellation of thiscurious shrub is _Viburnum oxycoccos_; but there is another species ofthe viburnum, which is also styled "oxycoccos." The common "snowballbush" of our garden is a plant of the same genus, and very like the"Pembina," both in leaf and flower. In fact, in a wild state they mightbe regarded as the same; but it is well known that the flowers of thesnowball are sterile, and do not produce the beautiful bright crimsonberries of the "Pembina."
Lucien lectured upon these points to his companions as they floatedalong. 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 in hand,eagerly watching for a shot. Many species of water-fowl were upon theriver, for it was now late in the spring, and the wild geese and duckshad all arrived, and were passing northward upon their annual migration.During the day Francois had got several shots, and had "bagged" threewild geese, all of different kinds, for there are many species of wildgeese in America.
He had also shot some ducks. But this did not satisfy him. There was abird upon the river that could not be approached. No matter how thecanoe was manoeuvred, this shy creature always took flight beforeFrancois could get within range. For days he had been endeavouring tokill one. Even upon the St. Peter's many of them had been seen,sometimes in pairs, at other times in small flocks of six or seven, butalways shy and wary. The very difficulty of getting a shot at them,along with the splendid character of the birds themselves, had renderedFrancois eager to obtain one. The bird itself was no other than thegreat 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 buckshot."
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."
It had been feeding in a sedge of the wild rice, and no doubt the sightof the canoe or the plash of the guiding oar had disturbed, and given itthe alarm. It shot out from the reeds with head erect and wings slightlyraised, offering to the eyes of the voyageurs a spectacle of gracefuland majestic bearing, that, among the feathered race at least, is quiteinimitable.
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. He hadfull confidence both in his strength and speed upon the water. He wasnot going to undergo the trouble of a fly, until the necessity arose forso doing; and, as it was, he seemed to be satisfied that that necessityhad not yet arrived. The swim cost him much less muscular exertion thanflying 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." The windchanced to blow directly down-stream, and the broad wings of the bird,held out from his body, and half extended, caught the very pith of thebreeze 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 that these birds do not _think_? I for one am satisfiedthey do, and look upon every one who prates about the _instinct_ ofthese creatures as a philosopher of a very old school indeed. Not onlydoes the great swan think, but so does your parrot, and your pipingbullfinch, and the little canary that hops on your
thumb. All think, and_reason_, and _judge_. Should it ever be your fortune to witness theperformance of those marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful Mdlle.Vandermeersch 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, inless than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he had gaineda clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, and continued to widen thedistance. At intervals he raised his beak higher than usual, and utteredhis loud booming note, which fell upon the ears of the voyageurs asthough 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. Theswan, on reaching this, would no longer have the wind in his favour.This inspired them with fresh hopes. They thought they would be able toovertake him after passing the bend, and then, either get a shot at him,or force him into the air. The latter was the more likely; and, althoughit would be no great gratification to see him fly off, yet they hadbecome 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, andentered the new "reach" of the river. The voyageurs at once perceivedthat the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer "carried sail," as thewind was no longer in his favour. His wings lay closely folded to hisbody, and he moved only by the aid of his webbed feet and the current,which last happened to be sluggish, as the river at this part spreadover a wide expanse of level land. The canoe was evidently catching up,and each stroke was bringing the pursuers nearer to the pursued.
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 scream ofsome 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. From this forest the strange cry had proceeded, andfrom the right bank. Its echoes had hardly ceased, when it was answeredby a similar cry from the trees upon the left. So like were the two,that it seemed as if some one of God's wild creatures was mockinganother. These cries were hideous enough to frighten any one not usedto them. They had not that effect upon our voyageurs, who knew theirimport. One and all of them were familiar with 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 was allat once changed. Instead of rising into the air, as he had premeditated,he suddenly lowered his head, and disappeared under the water!
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 to thesurface to take breath--each time at shorter intervals. He would soonbecome fatigued and unable to dive with sufficient celerity, and thenhis cruel enemies would be down upon him with their terrible talons.Such is the usual result, unless the swan takes to the air, which hesometimes does. In the present case he had built his hopes upon adifferent means of escape. He contemplated being able to conceal himselfin a heavy sedge of bulrushes that grew along the edge of the river, andtowards these he was evidently directing his course under the water.
At each emersion he appeared some yards nearer them, until at length herose within a few feet of their margin, and diving again was seen nomore! He had crept in among the sedge, and no doubt was lying with onlyhis head, or part of it, above the water, his body concealed by thebroad leaves of the _nymphae_, while the head itself could not bedistinguished among the white flowers that lay thickly along thesurface.
The eagles now wheeled over the sedge, flapping the tops of thebulrushes with their broad wings, and screaming with disappointed rage.Keen as were their eyes they could not discover the hiding-place oftheir victim. No doubt they would have searched for it a long time, butthe canoe--which they now appeared to notice for the first time--hadfloated near; and, becoming aware of their own danger, both mounted intothe air again, and with a farewell scream flew off, and alighted at somedistance 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 culms ofthe rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, that thecanoe-men, 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 remained stationary for a time, surrounded by a wall of greenbulrush. They soon perceived that that would never do, and resolved topush back into the open water. Meanwhile Marengo had been sent into thesedge, and was now heard plunging and sweltering about in search of thegame. Marengo was not much of a water-dog by nature, but he had beentrained to almost every kind of hunting, and his experience among theswamps of Louisiana had long since relieved him of all dread for thewater. His masters therefore 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 vertically into the air.These birds usually fly at a great elevation--sometimes entirely beyondthe reach of sight. Unlike the wild geese and ducks, they never alightupon land, but always upon the bosom of the water. It was evidently theintention of this one to go far from the scene of his late dangers,perhaps to the great lake Winnipeg itself.
After attaining a height of several hundred yards, he flew forward in ahorizontal course, and followed the direction of the stream. His flig
htwas 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-gradulation 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--those already introduced--wereseen mounting into the air. They did not fly up vertically, as the swanhad done, but in spiral curves, wheeling and crossing each other as theyascended. They were making for a point that would intersect the flightof the swan should he keep on in his horizontal course. This, however,he did not do. With an eye as quick as theirs, he saw that he was"headed;" and, stretching his long neck upward, he again pursued analmost vertical line.
But he had to carry thirty pounds of flesh and bones, while the largestof the eagles--the female bird--with a still broader spread of wing, wasa "light weight" of only seven. The result of this difference was soonapparent. Before the trumpeter had got two hundred yards higher, thefemale of the eagles was seen wheeling around him on the same level.The swan was now observed to double, fly downward, and then upwardagain, while his mournful note echoed back to the earth. But his effortswere in vain. After a series of contortions and manoeuvres, the eagledarted forward, with a quick toss threw herself back-downward, and,striking upward, planted her talons in the under part of the wing of hervictim. The lacerated shaft fell uselessly down; and the great whitebird, no longer capable of flight, came whistling through the air.
THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE.]
But it was not allowed to drop directly to the earth; it would havefallen on the bosom of the broad river, and that the eagles did notwish, as it would have given them some trouble to get the heavy carcassashore. As soon as the male--who was lower in the air--saw that hispartner had struck the bird, he discontinued his upward flight, and,poising himself on his spread tail, waited its descent. A single instantwas sufficient. The white object passed him still fluttering; but themoment it was below his level he shot after it like an arrow, and,clutching it in his talons, with an outward stroke sent it whizzing in adiagonal direction. The next moment a crashing was heard among thetwigs, and a dull sound announced that the swan had fallen upon theearth.
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. Itsbreast was torn open, and the crimson blood, with which they had beengorging themselves, was spread in broad flakes over its snowy plumage.The eagles themselves, scared by the dog Marengo, had taken flightbefore 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.