Doosan Forklift Spare Parts List GPES

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pleased to see the young frogs, which afford it a tolerable repast.
Gradually the poke-berry and the nettle shoot up, and on their
tender and juicy stems it gladly feeds. The matin calls of the Wild
Turkey Cock delight the ear of the cunning creature, for it well
knows that it will soon hear the female and trace her to her nest,
when it will suck the eggs with delight. Travelling through the
woods, perhaps on the ground, perhaps aloft, from tree to tree, it
hears a cock crow, and its heart swells as it remembers the savory
food on which it regaled itself last summer in the neighboring farm-
yard. With great care, however, it advances, and at last conceals
itself in the very hen-house.
Honest farmer! why did you kill so many Crows last winter? ay and
Ravens too? Well, you have had your own way of it; but now hie to
the village and procure a store of ammunition, clean your rusty gun,
set your traps, and teach your lazy curs to watch the Opossum.
There it comes. The sun is scarcely down, but the appetite of the
prowler is keen; hear the screams of one of your best chickens that
has been seized by him! The cunning beast is off with it, and
nothing can now be done, unless you stand there to watch the Fox
or the Owl, now exulting in the thought that you have killed their
enemy and your own friend, the poor Crow. That precious hen under
which you last week placed a dozen eggs or so is now deprived of
them. The Opossum, notwithstanding her angry outcries and
rufflings of feathers, has removed them one by one, and now look at
the poor bird as she moves across your yard; if not mad, she is at
least stupid, for she scratches here and there, calling to her chickens
all the while. All this comes from your shooting Crows. Had you been
more merciful or more prudent, the Opossum might have been kept
within the woods, where it would have been satisfied with a Squirrel,
a young Hare, the eggs of a Turkey, or the grapes that so profusely
adorn the boughs of our forest trees. But I talk to you in vain.
There cannot be a better exemplification of maternal tenderness
than the female Opossum. Just peep into that curious sack in which
the young are concealed, each attached to a teat. The kind mother
not only nourishes them with care, but preserves them from their
enemies; she moves with them as the shark does with its progeny,
and now, aloft on the tulip-tree, she hides among the thick foliage.
By the end of two months they begin to shift for themselves; each
has been taught its particular lesson, and must now practise it.
But suppose the farmer has surprised an Opossum in the act of
killing one of his best fowls. His angry feelings urge him to kick the
poor beast, which, conscious of its inability to resist, rolls off like a
ball. The more the farmer rages, the more reluctant is the animal to
manifest resentment; at last there it lies, not dead, but exhausted,
its jaws open, its tongue extended, its eye dimmed; and there it
would lie until the bottle-fly should come to deposit its eggs, did not
its tormentor at length walk off. "Surely," says he to himself, "the
beast must be dead." But no, reader, it is only "'possuming," and no
sooner has its enemy withdrawn than it gradually gets on its legs,
and once more makes for the woods.
Once, while descending the Mississippi, in a sluggish flat-bottomed
boat, expressly for the purpose of studying those objects of nature
more nearly connected with my favorite pursuits, I chanced to meet
with two well-grown Opossums, and brought them alive to the "ark."
The poor things were placed on the roof or deck, and were
immediately assailed by the crew, when, following their natural
instinct, they lay as if quite dead. An experiment was suggested, and
both were thrown overboard. On striking the water, and for a few
moments after, neither evinced the least disposition to move; but
finding their situation desperate, they began to swim towards our
uncouth rudder, which was formed of a long slender tree, extending
from the middle of the boat thirty feet beyond its stern. They both
got upon it, were taken up, and afterwards let loose in their native
woods.
In the year 1829, I was in a portion of lower Louisiana, where the
Opossum abounds at all seasons, and having been asked by the
President and the Secretary of the Zoölogical Society of London, to
forward live animals of this species to them, I offered a price a little
above the common, and soon found myself plentifully supplied,
twenty-five having been brought to me. I found them excessively
voracious, and not less cowardly. They were put into a large box,
with a great quantity of food, and conveyed to a steamer bound for
New Orleans. Two days afterwards, I went to that city, to see about
sending them off to Europe; but, to my surprise, I found that the old
males had destroyed the younger ones, and eaten off their heads,
and that only sixteen remained alive. A separate box was purchased
for each, and some time after they reached my friends, the
Rathbones of Liverpool, who, with their usual attention, sent them
off to London, where, on my return, I saw a good number of them in
the Zoölogical Gardens.
This animal is fond of grapes, of which a species now bears its
name. Persimmons are greedily eaten by it, and in severe weather I
have observed it eating lichens. Fowls of every kind, and quadrupeds
less powerful than itself, are also its habitual prey.
The flesh of the Opossum resembles that of a young pig, and would
perhaps be as highly prized, were it not for the prejudice generally
entertained against it. Some "very particular" persons, to my
knowledge, have pronounced it excellent eating. After cleaning its
body, suspend it for a whole week in the frosty air, for it is not eaten
in summer; then place it on a heap of hot wood embers; sprinkle it
when cooked with gunpowder; and now tell me, good reader, does it
not equal the famed Canvas-back Duck? Should you visit any of our
markets, you may see it there in company with the best game.

A MAPLE-SUGAR CAMP
While advancing the best way I could through the magnificent
woods that cover the undulating grounds in the vicinity of the Green
River in Kentucky, I was overtaken by night. With slow and cautious
steps I proceeded, feeling some doubt as to my course, when the
moon came forth, as if purposely to afford me her friendly light. The
air I thought was uncommonly keen, and the gentle breeze that now
and then shook the tops of the tall trees more than once made me
think of halting for the night, and forming a camp. At times I
thought of the campaigns of my old friend, Daniel Boone, his strange
adventures in these very woods, and the extraordinary walk which
he performed to save his fellow creatures at Fort Massacre from the
scalping knives of the irritated Indians.[59] Now and then a Raccoon
or Opossum, causing the fallen leaves to rustle, made me pause for
a moment; and thus I was forcing my way, thinking on many things
dismal as well as pleasing, when the glimmer of a distant fire
suddenly aroused me from my reveries, and inspired me with fresh
animation. As I approached it, I observed forms of different kinds
moving to and fro before it, like spectres; and ere long, bursts of
laughter, shouts, and songs apprised me of some merry-making. I
thought at first I had probably stumbled upon a camp meeting; but I
soon perceived that the mirth proceeded from a band of sugar-
makers. Every man, woman, and child stared as I passed them, but
all were friendly, and, without more ceremony than was needful, I
walked up to the fire, at which I found two or three old women, with
their husbands, attending to the kettles. Their plain dresses of
Kentucky homespun were far more pleasing to my sight than the
ribboned turbans of city dames, or the powdered wigs and
embroidered waistcoats of antique beaux. I was heartily welcomed,
and supplied with a goodly pone of bread, a plate of molasses, and
some sweet potatoes.
Fatigued with my long ramble, I lay down under the lee of the
smoke, and soon fell into a sound sleep. When day returned, the
frost lay thick around; but the party arose cheerful and invigorated,
and after performing their orisons, resumed their labor. The scenery
was most pleasing; the ground all round looked as if it had been
cleared of underwood; the maples, straight and tall, seemed as if
planted in rows; between them meandered several rills, which gently
murmured as they hastened toward the larger stream; and as the
sun dissolved the frozen dews the few feathered songsters joined
the chorus of the woodsmen's daughters. Whenever a burst of
laughter suddenly echoed through the woods, an Owl or Wild Turkey
would respond to it, with a signal welcome to the young men of the
party. With large ladles the sugar-makers stirred the thickening juice
of the maple; pails of sap were collected from the trees and brought
in by the young people, while here and there some sturdy fellow was
seen first hacking a cut in a tree, and afterwards boring with an
auger a hole, into which he introduced a piece of hollow cane, by
which the sap was to be drained off. About half a dozen men had
felled a noble yellow poplar, and sawed its great trunk into many
pieces, which, after being split, they were scooping into troughs to
be placed under the cane-cocks, to receive the maple juice.
Now, good reader, should you ever chance to travel through the
maple grounds that lie near the banks of that lovely stream the
Green River of Kentucky, either in January or in March, or through
those on the broader Monongahela in April; nay, should you find
yourself by the limpid streamlets that roll down the declivities of the
Pocano Mountains to join the Lehigh, and there meet with a sugar
camp, take my advice and tarry for a while. If you be on foot or on
horseback, and are thirsty, you can nowhere find a more wholesome
or more agreeable beverage than the juice of the maple. A man
when in the Floridas may drink molasses diffused in water; in
Labrador he may drink what he can get; and at New York or
Philadelphia he may drink what he chooses; but in the woods a
draught from the sugar maple is delicious and most refreshing. How
often, when travelling, have I quenched my thirst with the limpid
juice of the receiving-troughs, from which I parted with regret; nay,
even my horse, I have thought, seemed to desire to linger as long as
he could.
But let me endeavor to describe to you the manner in which the
sugar is obtained. The trees that yield it (Acer saccharinum) are
found more or less abundantly in all parts of the United States from
Louisiana to Maine, growing on elevated rich grounds. An incision is
made into the trunk at a height of from two to six feet; a pipe of
cane or of any other kind is thrust into the aperture, a trough is
placed beneath and receives the juice, which trickles by drops, and
is as limpid as the purest spring water. When all the trees of a
certain space have been tapped, and the troughs filled, the people
collect the juice, and pour it into large vessels. A camp has already
been pitched in the midst of a grove; several iron boilers have been
fixed on stone or brick supports, and the business proceeds with
vigor. At times several neighboring families join, and enjoy the labor,
as if it were a pastime, remaining out day and night for several
weeks; for the troughs and kettles must be attended to from the
moment when they are first put in requisition until the sugar is
produced. The men and boys perform the most laborious part of the
business, but the women and girls are not less busy.
It takes ten gallons of sap to produce a pound of fine-grained sugar;
but an inferior kind in lumps, called cake sugar, is obtained in
greater quantity. When the season is far advanced, the juice will no
longer grain by boiling, and only produces a syrup. I have seen
maple sugar so good, that some months after it was manufactured it
resembled candy; and well do I remember the time when it was an
article of commerce throughout Kentucky, where, twenty-five or
thirty years ago, it sold at from 6½ to 12½ cents per pound,
according to its quality, and was daily purchased in the markets or
stores.
Trees that have been thus bored rarely last many years; for the cuts
and perforations made in their trunks injure their health, so that
after some years of weeping they become sickly, exhibit
monstrosities about their lower parts, gradually decay, and at length
die. I have no doubt, however, that, with proper care, the same
quantity of sap might be obtained with less injury to the trees; and it
is now fully time that the farmers and land-owners should begin to
look to the preservation of their sugar-maples.
 THE WHITE PERCH AND THE FAVORITE BAIT
No sooner have the overflowing waters of early spring subsided
within their banks, and the temperature become pleasant, than the
trees of our woods are seen to unfold their buds and blossoms, and
the White Perch which during the winter has lived in the ocean,
rushes up our streams, to seek the well-known haunts in which it
last year deposited its spawn. With unabating vigor it ascends the
turbulent current of the Mississippi, of which, however, the waters
are too muddy to suit its habits; and glad no doubt it is to enter one
of the numberless tributaries whose limpid waters are poured into
the mighty river. Of these subsidiary waters the Ohio is one in whose
pure stream the White Perch seems to delight; and towards its head-
springs the fish advance in numerous shoals, following the banks
with easy progress. Over many a pebbly or gravelly bar does it seek
its food. Here the crawling Mussel it crunches and devours; there,
with the speed of an arrow, it darts upon the minnow; again, at the
edge of a shelving rock, or by the side of a stone, it secures a cray-
fish. No impure food will "the Growler" touch; therefore, reader,
never make use of such to allure it, otherwise not only will your time
be lost, but you will not enjoy the gratification of tasting this
delicious fish. Should you have no experience in fishing for Perch I
would recommend to you to watch the men you see on that shore,
for they are excellent anglers.
Smooth are the waters, clear is the sky, and gently does the stream
move—perhaps its velocity does not exceed a mile in the hour.
Silence reigns around you. See, each fisher has a basket or
calabash, containing many a live cray; and each line, as thick as a
crowquill, measures scarce a furlong. At one end two Perch-hooks
are so fastened that they cannot interfere with each other. A few
inches beyond the reaching point of the farthest hook, the sinker,
perhaps a quarter of a pound in weight, having a hole bored through
its length, is passed upon the line, and there secured by a stout knot
at its lower extremity. The other end of the line is fastened ashore.
The tackle, you observe, is carefully coiled on the sand at the fisher's
feet. Now on each hook he fixes a cray-fish, piercing the shell
beneath the tail, and forcing the keen weapon to reach the very
head of the suffering creature, while all its legs are left at liberty to
move. Now each man, holding his line a yard or so from the hooks,
whirls it several times overhead, and sends it off to its full length
directly across the stream. No sooner has it reached the gravelly bed
than, gently urged by the current, it rolls over and over, until the line
and the water follow the same direction. Before this, however, I see
that several of the men have had a bite, and that by a short jerk
they have hooked the fish. Hand over hand they haul in their lines.
Poor Perch, it is useless labor for thee to flounce and splash in that
manner, for no pity will be shown thee, and thou shalt be dashed on
the sand, and left there to quiver in the agonies of death. The lines
are within a few yards of being in. I see the fish gasping on its side.
Ah! there are two on this line, both good; on most of the others
there is one; but I see some of the lines have been robbed by some
cunning inhabitant of the water. What beautiful fishes these Perches
are! So silvery beneath, so deeply colored above! What a fine eye,
too! But, friend, I cannot endure their gaspings. Pray put them on
this short line, and place them in the water beside you, until you
prepare to go home. In a few hours each fisher has obtained as
many as he wishes. He rolls up his line, fastens five or six Perches
on each side of his saddle, mounts his horse, and merrily wends his
way.
In this manner the White Perch is caught along the sandy banks of
the Ohio, from its mouth to its source. In many parts above
Louisville some fishers prefer using the trot-line, which, however,
ought to be placed upon, or very little above, the bottom of the
stream. When this kind of line is employed, its hooks are more
frequently baited with mussels than with cray-fish, the latter being,
perhaps, not so easily procured there as farther down the stream.
Great numbers of Perches are also caught in seines, especially
during a transient rise of the water. Few persons fish for them with
the pole, as they generally prefer following the edges of the sand-
bars, next to deep water. Like all others of its tribe, the White Perch
is fond of depositing its spawn on gravelly or sandy beds, but rarely
at a depth of less than four or five feet. These beds are round, and
have an elevated margin formed of the sand removed from their
centre, which is scooped out for two or three inches. The fish,
although it generally remains for some days over its treasure, is by
no means so careful of it as the little "Sunny," but starts off at the
least appearance of danger. I have more than once taken
considerable pleasure in floating over their beds, when the water
was sufficiently clear to admit of my seeing both the fish and its
place of deposit; but I observed that if the sun was shining, the very
sight of the boat's shadow drove the Perches away. I am of opinion
that most of them return to the sea about the beginning of
November; but of this I am not certain.
The usual length of this fish, which on the Ohio is called the White
Perch, and in the state of New York the Growler, is from fifteen to
twenty inches. I have, however, seen some considerably larger. The
weight varies from a pound and a half to four, and even six pounds.
For the first six weeks of their arrival in fresh-water streams they are
in season; the flesh is then white and firm, and affords excellent
eating; but during the heats of summer they become poor, and are
seldom very good. Now and then, in the latter days of September, I
have eaten some that tasted as well as in spring. One of the most
remarkable habits of this fish is that from which it has received the
name of Growler. When poised in the water, close to the bottom of
the boat, it emits a rough croaking noise, somewhat resembling a
groan. Whenever this sound is heard under a boat, if the least
disturbance is made by knocking on the gunwale or bottom, it at
once ceases; but is renewed when everything is quiet. It is seldom
heard, however, unless in fine, calm weather.
The White Perch bites at the hook with considerable care, and very
frequently takes off the bait without being caught. Indeed, it
requires a good deal of dexterity to hook it, for if this is not done the
first time it touches the bait, you rarely succeed afterward; and I
have seen young hands at the game, who, in the course of a
morning, seldom caught more than one or two, although they lost
perhaps twenty crays. But now that I have afforded you some
information respecting the habits of the White Perch, allow me to
say a few words on the subject of its favorite bait.
The cray is certainly not a fish, although usually so styled; but as
every one is acquainted with its form and nature, I shall not inflict
on you any disquisition regarding it. It is a handsome crustaceous
animal certainly, and its whole tribe I consider as dainties of the first
order. To me "Écrevisses," whether of salt or fresh water, stripped of
their coats and blended into a soup or a "Gombo," have always been
most welcome. Boiled or roasted, too, they are excellent in my
estimation, and mayhap in yours. The cray-fish, of which I here
more particularly speak—for I shall not deprive them of their caudal
appendage, lest, like a basha without his tail, they might seem of
less consequence—are found most abundantly swimming, crawling
at the bottom or on shore, or working at their muddy burrows, in all
the southern parts of the Union. If I mistake not, we have two
species at least, one more an inhabitant of rocky streamlets than the
other, and that one by far the best, though the other is good too.
Both species swim by means of rapid strokes of the tail, which
propel them backwards to a considerable distance at each repetition.
All that I regret concerning these animals is that they are absolutely
little aquatic vultures—or, if you please, crustacea with vulturine
habits—for they feed on everything impure that comes in their way,
when they cannot obtain fresh aliment. However this may be, the
crays somehow fall in with this sort of food, and any person may
catch as many as he may wish, by fastening a piece of flesh to a
line, allowing it to remain under water for a while, and drawing it up
with care, when, with the aid of a hand-net, he may bring it ashore
with a few! But although this is a good method of procuring cray-
fish, it answers only for those that live in running waters. The form
of these is delicate, their color a light olive, and their motions in the
water are very lively. The others are larger, of a dark, greenish
brown, less active in the water than on land, although they are most
truly amphibious. The first conceal themselves beneath shelving
rocks, stones, or water-plants; the others form a deep burrow in the
damp earth, depositing the materials drawn up as a man would do in
digging a well. The manner in which they dispose of the mud you
may see by glancing at the plate of the White Ibis, in my third
volume of illustrations, where also you will find a tolerable portrait of
one of these creatures.
According to the nature of the ground, the burrows of this cray-fish
are more or less deep. Indeed, this also depends partly on the
increasing dryness of the soil, when influenced by the heat of
summer, as well as on the texture of the substratum. Thus, in some
places, where the cray can reach the water after working a few
inches, it rests contented during the day, but crawls out for food at
night. Should it, however, be left dry, it renews its labors; and thus
while one burrow may be only five or six inches deep, another may
be two or three feet, and a third even more. They are easily
procured when thus lodged in shallow holes; but when the burrow is
deep, a thread is used, with a small piece of flesh fastened to it. The
cray eagerly seizes the bait, and is gently drawn up, and thrown to a
distance, when he becomes an easy prey. You have read of the
method used by the White Ibis in procuring crays,[60] and I leave
you to judge whether the bird or the man is the best fisher. This
species is most abundant round the borders of the stagnant lakes,
bayous, or ponds of the Southern Districts; and I have seen them
caught even in the streets of the suburbs of New Orleans, after a
heavy shower. They become a great pest by perforating
embankments of all sorts, and many are the maledictions that are
uttered against them, both by millers and planters, nay, even by the
overseers of the levees along the banks of the Mississippi. But they
are curious creatures, formed no doubt for useful purposes, and as
such they are worthy of your notice.

THE AMERICAN SUN PERCH

Few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel, either in beauty or in
delicacy and flavor, the species which I have chosen as the subject
of this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers.
Although it occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small
or large, in the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest trees, or in the
open lake margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in
impure waters. Let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow,
the water must be clear enough to allow the sun's rays to fall
unimpaired on the rich coat of mail that covers the body of the
Sunfish. Look at him as he poises himself under the lee of the
protecting rock beneath our feet! See how steadily he maintains his
position, and yet how many rapid motions of his fins are necessary
to preserve it! Now another is by his side glowing with equal beauty,
and poising itself by equally easy and graceful movements. The sun
is shining, and under the lee of every stone, and sunk log, some of
the little creatures are rising to the surface to enjoy the bright blaze,
which enhances all their beauty. The golden hues of some parts of
the body, blend with the green of the emerald, while the coral tints
of the lower parts and the red of its sparkling eye, render our little
favorite a perfect gem of the waters.
The rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the
obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones and
logs that are strewn along the bottom. Every one of these proves a
place of rest, safety, and observation to the little things, whose eyes
are ever anxiously watching their favorite prey as it passes. There an
unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labors in vain to
extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at
intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings, now
wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. The Sunfish has
marked it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with
twenty of his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. The swiftest
swallows it in a moment, and all immediately return to their lurking-
places, where they fancy themselves secure. But, alas! the Sunfish is
no more without enemies than the moth, or any other living
creature. So has nature determined, evidently, to promote prudence
and industry, without which none can reap the full advantage of life.
On the top of yon miller's dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher.
Up to the knees and regardless of the danger of his situation, he
prepares his apparatus of destruction. A keen hook attached to his
grass line is now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. With
a knowing eye he marks one after another every surge of the water
below. Observing the top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his
hook towards it with gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats
and anon sinks; his reel slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly
tightened, and he feels that a fish is secured. Now whirls the reel
again; thrice has the fish tried its utmost strength and speed, but
soon, panting and exhausted, it is seen floating for a moment on the
surface. Nothing now is required but to bring it to hand, which done,
the angler baits anew, and sends forth the treacherous morsel. For
an hour or more he continues the agreeable occupation, drawing
from the stream a fish at every short interval. To the willow twig
fastened to his waist a hundred "Sunnies" are already attached.
Suddenly the sky is overcast, and the crafty fisher, although aware
that with a different hook and bait he might soon procure a fine eel
or two, carefully wades to the shore, and homeward leisurely plods
his way.
In this manner are the Sunfishes caught by the regular or "scientific"
anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with
which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open
turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the
overhanging trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little
creatures may be playing in fancied security. Rarely does his tackle
become entangled, whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws
one after another from the waters.
Thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in
their mode of fishing, often procure as many "Sunnies" without
allowing them to play for a moment. Look at these boys! One stands
on the shore, while the others are on fallen trees that project over
the stream. Their rods, as you perceive, are merely shoots of the
hazel or hickory, their lines are simply twine, and their hooks none of
the finest. One has a calabash filled with worms and grubs of many
sorts, kept alive in damp earth, and another is supplied with a bottle
containing half a gross of live "hoppers;" the third has no bait at all,
but borrows from his nearest neighbor. Well, there they are, "three
merry boys," whirling their rods in the air to unroll their lines, on one
of which, you observe, a cork is fastened, while on another is a bit of
light wood, and on the third a grain or two of large shot, to draw it
at once to a certain depth. Now their hooks are baited and all are
ready. Each casts his line as he thinks best, after he has probed the
depth of the stream with his rod, to enable him to place his buoy at
the proper point. Bob, bob, goes the cork; down it moves; the bit of
wood disappears, the leaded line tightens; in a moment up swing
the "Sunnies," which, getting unhooked, are projected far among the
grass, where they struggle in vain, until death ends their efforts. The
hooks are now baited anew, and dropped into the water. The fish is
abundant, the weather propitious and delightful, for it is now
October; and so greedy have the "Sunnies" become of grasshoppers
and grubs that dozens at once dash at the same bait. The lads,
believe me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely a fish
remains in the hole. The happy children have caught, perhaps, some
hundreds of delicious "panfish," to feed their parents and delight
their little sisters. Surely their pleasure is fully as great as that
experienced by the scientific angler.
I have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let
out, for some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all
the Sunfish have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if
to avoid being carried away from their favorite abode. There I have
seen them in such multitudes that one could catch as many as he
pleased with a pin-hook, fastened to any sort of line, and baited with
any sort of worm or insect, or even with a piece of newly caught
fish. Yet, and I am not able to account for it, all of a sudden, without
apparent cause, they would cease to take, and no allurement
whatever could entice them or the other fishes in the pool to seize
the hook.
During high freshets, this species of Perch seldom bites at anything;
but you may procure them with a cast-net or a seine, provided you
are well acquainted with the localities. On the contrary, when the
waters are clear and low, every secluded hole, every eddy under the
lee of a rock, every place sheltered by a raft of timber, will afford
you amusement. In some parts of the Southern States, the negroes
procure these fishes late in the autumn in shallow ponds or bayous,
by wading through the water with caution, and placing at every few
steps a wicker apparatus, not unlike a small barrel, open at both
ends. The moment the fishes find themselves confined within the
lower part of this, which is pressed to the bottom of the stream,
their skippings announce their capture, and the fisher secures his
booty.
This species, the Labrus auritus of Linnæus, the Pomotis vulgaris of
Cuvier, seldom exceeds five or six inches in length, but is rather
deep in proportion. The usual size is from four to five inches, with a
depth of from two to two and a half. They are not bony, and at all
seasons afford delicate eating. Having observed a considerable
change in their color in different parts of the United States, and in
different streams, ponds, or lakes, I was led to think that this curious
effect might be produced by the difference of color in the water.
Thus the Sunfish caught in the deep waters of Green River, in
Kentucky, exhibit a depth of olive-brown quite different from the
general tint of those caught in the colorless waters of the Ohio or
Schuylkill; those of the reddish-colored waters of the bayous of the
Louisiana swamps look as if covered with a coppery tarnish; and,
lastly, those met with in streams that glide beneath cedars or other
firs, have a pale and sallow complexion.
The Sun Perch, wherever found, seems to give a decided preference
to sandy, gravelly, or rocky beds of streams, avoiding those of which
the bottom is muddy. At the period of depositing their eggs this
preference is still more apparent. The little creature is then seen
swimming rapidly over shallows, the bed of which is mostly formed
of fine gravel, when after a time it is observed to poise itself and
gradually sink to the bottom, where with its fin it pushes aside the
sand to the extent of eight or ten inches, thus forming a circular
cavity. In a few days a little ridge is thus raised around, and in the
cleared area the roe is deposited. By wading carefully over the
extent of the place, a person may count forty, fifty, or more of these
beds, some within a few feet of each other, and some several yards
apart. Instead of abandoning its spawn, as others of the family are
wont to do, this little fish keeps guard over it with all the care of a
sitting bird. You observe it poised over the bed, watching the objects
around. Should the rotten leaf of a tree, a piece of wood, or any
other substance, happen to be rolled over the border of the bed, the
Sunfish carefully removes it, holding the obnoxious matter in its
mouth, and dropping it over the margin. Having many times
witnessed this act of prudence and cleanliness in the little sunny,
and observed that at this period it will not seize on any kind of bait,
I took it into my head one fair afternoon to make a few experiments
for the purpose of judging how far its instinct or reason might induce
it to act when disturbed or harassed.
Provided with a fine fishing-line, and such insects as I knew were
relished by this fish, I reached a sand-bar covered by about one foot
of water, where I had previously seen many deposits. Approaching
the nearest to the shore with great care, I baited my hook with a
living ground-worm, the greater part of which was left at liberty to
writhe as it pleased, and, throwing the line up the stream, managed
it so that at last it passed over the border of the nest, when I
allowed it to remain on the bottom. The fish, I perceived, had
marked me, and as the worm intruded on its premises, it swam to
the farther side, there poised itself for a few moments, then
approached the worm, and carried it in its mouth over the side next
to me, with a care and gentleness so very remarkable as to afford
me much surprise. I repeated the experiment six or seven times,
and always with the same result. Then changing the bait, I
employed a young grasshopper, which I floated into the egg-bed.
The insect was removed, as the worm had been, and two attempts
to hook the fish proved unsuccessful. I now threw my line with the
hook bare, and managed as before. The Sunny appeared quite
alarmed. It swam to one side, then to another, in rapid succession,
and seemed to entertain a fear that the removal of the suspicious
object might prove extremely dangerous to it. Yet it gradually
approached the hook, took it delicately up, and the next instant
dropped it over the edge of the bed.
Reader, if you are one who, like me, have studied Nature with a
desire to improve your mental faculties, and contemplate the
wonderful phenomena that present themselves to the view at every
step we take in her wide domain, you would have been struck, had
you witnessed the actions of this little fish, as I was, with admiration
of the Being who gave such instincts to so humble an object. I gazed
in amazement at the little creature, and wondered that Nature had
endowed it with such feelings and powers. The irrepressible desire
of acquiring knowledge prompted me to continue the experiment;
but with whatever dexterity I could in those days hook a fish, all my
efforts proved abortive, not with this individual only, but with many
others which I subjected to the same trials.
Satisfied that at this period the Sunfish was more than a match for
me, I rolled up my line, and with the rod gave a rap on the water as
nearly over the fish as I could.
The Sunny darted off to a distance of several yards, poised itself
steadily, and as soon as my rod was raised from the water, returned
to its station. The effect of the blow on the water was now apparent,
for I perceived that the fish was busily employed in smoothing the
bed; but here ended my experiments on the Sunfish.

MY STYLE OF DRAWING BIRDS[61]

When, as a little lad, I first began my attempts at representing birds
on paper, I was far from possessing much knowledge of their nature,
and, like hundreds of others, when I had laid the effort aside, I was
under the impression that it was a finished picture of a bird because
it possessed some sort of a head and tail, and two sticks in lieu of
legs; I never troubled myself with the thought that abutments were
requisite to prevent it from falling either backward or forward, and
oh! what bills and claws I did draw, to say nothing of a perfectly
straight line for a back, and a tail stuck in anyhow, like an unshipped
rudder.
Many persons besides my father saw my miserable attempts, and so
many praised them to the skies that perhaps no one was ever nearer
being completely wrecked than I by these mistaken, though
affectionate words. My father, however, spoke very differently to me;
he constantly impressed upon me that nothing in the world
possessing life and animation was easy to imitate, and that as I
grew older he hoped I would become more and more alive to this.
He was so kind to me, and so deeply interested in my improvement
that to have listened carelessly to his serious words would have
been highly ungrateful. I listened less to others, more to him, and
his words became my law.
The first collection of drawings I made were from European
specimens, procured by my father or myself, and I still have them in
my possession.[62] They were all represented strictly ornithologically,
which means neither more nor less than in stiff, unmeaning profiles,
such as are found in most works published to the present day. My
next set was begun in America, and there, without my honored
mentor, I betook myself to the drawing of specimens hung by a
string tied to one foot, having a desire to show every portion, as the
wings lay loosely spread, as well as the tail. In this manner I made
some pretty fair signs for poulterers.
One day, while watching the habits of a pair of Pewees at Mill Grove,
I looked so intently at their graceful attitudes that a thought struck
my mind like a flash of light, that nothing, after all, could ever
answer my enthusiastic desires to represent nature, except to copy
her in her own way, alive and moving! Then I began again. On I
went, forming, literally, hundreds of outlines of my favorites, the
Pewees; how good or bad I cannot tell, but I fancied I had mounted
a step on the high pinnacle before me. I continued for months
together, simply outlining birds as I observed them, either alighted
or on the wing, but could finish none of my sketches. I procured
many individuals of different species, and laying them on the table
or on the ground, tried to place them in such attitudes as I had
sketched. But, alas! they were dead, to all intents and purposes, and
neither wing, leg, nor tail could I place according to my wishes. A
second thought came to my assistance; by means of threads I raised
or lowered a head, wing, or tail, and by fastening the threads
securely, I had something like life before me; yet much was wanting.
When I saw the living birds, I felt the blood rush to my temples, and
almost in despair spent about a month without drawing, but in deep
thought, and daily in the company of the feathered inhabitants of
dear Mill Grove.
I had drawn from the "manikin" whilst under David, and had
obtained tolerable figures of our species through this means, so I
cogitated how far a manikin of a bird would answer. I labored with
wood, cork, and wires, and formed a grotesque figure, which I
cannot describe in any other words than by saying that when set up
it was a tolerable-looking Dodo. A friend roused my ire by laughing
at it immoderately, and assuring me that if I wished to represent a
tame gander it might do. I gave it a kick, broke it to atoms, walked
off, and thought again.
Young as I was, my impatience to obtain my desire filled my brains
with many plans. I not infrequently dreamed that I had made a new
discovery; and long before day, one morning, I leaped out of bed
fully persuaded that I had obtained my object. I ordered a horse to
be saddled, mounted, and went off at a gallop towards the little
village of Norristown, distant about five miles. When I arrived there
not a door was open, for it was not yet daylight. Therefore I went to
the river, took a bath, and, returning to the town, entered the first
opened shop, inquired for wire of different sizes, bought some,
leaped on my steed, and was soon again at Mill Grove. The wife of
my tenant, I really believe, thought that I was mad, as, on offering
me breakfast, I told her I only wanted my gun. I was off to the
creek, and shot the first Kingfisher I met. I picked the bird up,
carried it home by the bill, sent for the miller, and bade him bring
me a piece of board of soft wood. When he returned he found me
filing sharp points to some pieces of wire, and I proceeded to show
him what I meant to do. I pierced the body of the fishing bird, and
fixed it on the board; another wire passed above his upper mandible
held the head in a pretty fair attitude, smaller ones fixed the feet
according to my notions, and even common pins came to my
assistance. The last wire proved a delightful elevator to the bird's
tail, and at last—there stood before me the real Kingfisher.

OLD MILL AND MILLER'S COTTAGE AT MILL GROVE ON THE PERKIOMEN

CREEK.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH FROM W. H. WETHERILL, ESQ.