it was the spring season, though late. the snow had entirely disappeared from the hills, and the ice from the water, and the melting of both had swollen the river, and rendered its current more rapid than usual. our young voyageurs needed not therefore to ply their oars, except now and then to guide the canoe; for these little vessels have no rudder, but are steered by the paddles. the skilful voyageurs can shoot them to any point they please, simply by their dexterous handling of the oars; and basil, lucien, and françois, had had sufficient practice both with “skiffs” and “dugouts” to make good oarsmen of all three. they had made many a canoe trip upon the lower mississippi and the bayous of louisiana; besides their journey up the saint peter’s had rendered them familiar with the management of their birchen craft. an occasional stroke of the paddle kept them in their course, and they floated on without effort. norman—such was the name of their canadian or highland cousin—sat in the bow and directed their course. this is the post of honour in a canoe; and as he had more experience than any of them in this 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 as the canoe glided onward, he was noting down his memoranda. the trees upon the banks were in leaf—many of them in blossom—and as the little craft verged near the shore, his keen eye followed the configuration of the leaves, 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 of indigenous fruit trees were observed by lucien, among which were crab-apple, raspberry, strawberry, and currant. there was also seen the fruit called by the voyageurs “le poire,” but which in english phraseology is known as the “service-berry” (amelanchier ovalis). it grows upon a small bush or shrub of six or eight feet high, with smooth pinnate leaves. these pretty red berries are much esteemed and eaten both by indians and whites, who preserve them by drying, and cook them in various ways. there was still another bush that fixed the attention of our young botanist, 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 inches wide, and somewhat lobed liked those of the oak. 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 red cherry, or, still more, a cranberry, having both the appearance and acrid taste of the latter. indeed, it is sometimes used as a substitute for cranberries in the making of pies and tarts; and in many parts it is called the “bush cranberry.” the name, however, by which it is known among the indians of red river is “anepeminan,” from “nepen,” summer, and “minan” berry. this has been corrupted by the fur-traders and voyageurs into “pembina;” hence, the name of a river which runs into the red, and also he name of the celebrated but unsuccessful settlement of “pembina,” formed by lord selkirk many years ago. both took their names from this berry that grows in abundance in the neighbourhood. the botanical appellation of this curious shrub is viburnum oxycoccos; but there is another species of the viburnum, which is also styled “oxycoccos.” the common “snowball bush” of our gardens is a plant of the same genus, and very like the “pembina” both in leaf and flower. in fact, in a wild state they might be regarded as the same; but it is well-known that the flowers of the snowball are sterile, and do not produce the beautiful bright crimson berries of the “pembina.” lucien lectured 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 its plants and trees than he did himself. basil also was interested in the explanations given by his brother. on the contrary, françois, who cared but little for botanical studies, or studies of any sort, was occupied differently. he sat near the middle of the canoe, double-barrel in hand, eagerly watching for a shot. many species of water-fowl were upon the river, for it was now late in the spring, and the wild geese and ducks had all arrived, and were passing northward upon their annual migration. during the day françois had got several shots, and had “bagged” three wild geese, all of different kinds, for there are many species of wild geese in america. he had also shot some ducks. but this did not satisfy him. there was a bird upon the river that could not be approached. no matter how the canoe was manoeuvred, this shy creature always took flight before françois could get within range. for days he had been endeavouring to kill one. even upon the saint peter’s many of them had been seen, sometimes in pairs, at other times in small flocks of six or seven, but always shy and wary. the very difficulty of getting a shot at them, along with the splendid character of the birds themselves, had rendered françois eager to obtain one. the bird itself was no other than the great wild swan—the king of aquatic birds.
“come, brother!” said françois, addressing lucien, “bother your viburnums and your oxycocks! tell us something about these swans. see! there goes another of them! what a splendid fellow he is! i’d give something to have him within range of buck-shot.”
as françois spoke he pointed down-stream to a great white bird that was seen moving out from the bank. it was a swan, and one of the very largest 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 had disturbed, and given it the alarm. it shot out from the reeds with head erect and wings slightly raised, offering to the eyes of the voyageurs a spectacle of graceful and majestic bearing, that, among the feathered race at least, is quite inimitable.
a few strokes of its broad feet propelled it into the open water near the middle of the stream, when, making a half wheel, it turned head down the river, and swam with the current.
at the point where it turned it was not two hundred yards ahead of the canoe. its apparent boldness in permitting them to come so near without taking wing, led françois to hope that they might get still nearer; and, begging his companions to ply the paddles, he seized hold of his double-barrel, and leaned forward in the canoe. basil also conceived a hope that a shot was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and looked to the cock and cap. the others went steadily and quietly to work at the oars. in a few moments the canoe cleft the current at the rate of a galloping horse, and one would have supposed that the swan must either at once take wing or be overtaken.
not so, however. the “trumpeter” knew his game better than that. he had full confidence both in his strength and speed upon the water. he was not going to undergo the trouble of a fly, until the necessity arose for so doing; and, as it was, he seemed to be satisfied that that necessity had not yet arrived. the swim cost him much less muscular exertion 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, to their chagrin, saw that, instead of gaining upon him, as they had expected, every moment widened the distance between him and the canoe. the bird had an advantage over his pursuers. three distinct powers propelled him, while they had only two to rely upon. he had the current in his favour—so had they. he had oars or paddles—his feet; they had oars as well. he “carried sail,” while they spread not a “rag.” the wind chanced 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 the breeze on their double concave surfaces, and carried him through the water with the velocity of an arrow. do you think that he was not aware of this advantage when he started in the race? do you suppose that these birds do not think? i for one am satisfied they do, and look upon every one who prates about the instinct of these creatures as a philosopher of a very old school indeed. not only does the great swan think, but so does your parrot, and your piping bullfinch, and the little canary that hops on your thumb. all think, and reason, and judge. should it ever be your fortune to witness the performance of those marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful mademoiselle vandermeersch in the fashionable salons of paris and london, you will agree with me in the belief that the smallest of them has a mind like yourself.
most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were pursuing, thought, and reasoned, and judged, and calculated his distance, and resolved to keep on “the even tenor of his way,” without putting himself to extra trouble by beating the air with his wings, and lifting his heavy body—thirty pounds at least—up into the heavens. his judgment proved sound; for, in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he had gained a clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, and continued to widen the distance. at intervals he raised his beak higher than usual, and uttered his loud booming note, which fell upon the ears of the voyageurs as though it had been sent back in mockery and defiance.
they would have given up the pursuit, had they not noticed that a few hundred 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 able to overtake 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, although it would be no great gratification to see him fly off, yet they had become so interested in this singular chase that they desired to terminate it by putting the trumpeter to some trouble. they bent, therefore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward in the pursuit. first the swan, and after him the canoe, swung round the bend, and entered the new “reach” of the river. the voyageurs at once perceived that the bird now swam more slowly. he no longer “carried sail,” as the wind was no longer in his favour. his wings lay closely folded to his body, 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 spread over 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 much ground that he was not two hundred yards in the advance, and “dead ahead.” his body was no longer carried with the same gracefulness, and the majestic curving of his neck had disappeared. his bill protruded forward, and his thighs began to drag the water in his wake. he was evidently on the threshold of flight. both françois 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 of some wild creature, ending in a strange laugh, like the laugh of a maniac!
on both sides of the river there was a thick forest of tall trees of the cotton-wood species (populus angustifolia). from this forest the strange cry had proceeded, and from the right bank. its echoes had hardly ceased, when it was answered by 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 mocking another. these cries were hideous enough to frighten any one not used to them. they had not that effect upon our voyageurs, who knew their import. 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 a far different effect. his terror was apparent, and his intention was all at 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 next moment an eagle swept out from the timber, and, after a few strokes of its broad wing, poised itself over the spot where the trumpeter had gone down. the other, its mate, was seen crossing at the same time from the opposite side.
presently the swan rose to the surface, but his head was hardly out of the water when the eagle once more uttered its wild note, and, half folding its wings, darted down from above. the swan seemed to have expected this, for before the eagle could reach the surface, he had gone under a second time, and the latter, though passing with the velocity of an arrow, plunged his talons in the water to no purpose. with a cry of disappointment the eagle mounted back into the air, and commenced wheeling in circles over the spot. it was now joined by its mate, and both kept round and round watching for the reappearance of their intended victim.
again the swan came to the surface, but before either of the eagles could swoop upon him he had for the third time disappeared. the swan is but an indifferent diver; but under such circumstances he was likely to do his best at it. but what could it avail him? he must soon rise to the surface to take breath—each time at shorter intervals. he would soon become fatigued and unable to dive with sufficient celerity, and then his cruel enemies would be down upon him with their terrible talons. such is the usual result, unless the swan takes to the air, which he sometimes does. in the present case he had built his hopes upon a different means of escape. he contemplated being able to conceal himself in a heavy sedge of bulrushes (scirpus lacustris) that grew along the edge of the river, and towards these he was evidently directing his course under the water. at each emersion he appeared some yards nearer them, until at length he rose within a few feet of their margin, and diving again was seen no more! he had crept in among the sedge, and no doubt was lying with only his head, or part of it, above the water, his body concealed by the broad leaves of the nymphae, while the head itself could not be distinguished among the white flowers that lay thickly along the surface. the eagles now wheeled over the sedge, flapping the tops of the bulrushes with their broad wings, and screaming with disappointed rage. keen as were their eyes they could not discover the hiding-place of their victim. no doubt they would have searched for it a long while, but the canoe—which they now appeared to notice for the first time—had floated near; and, becoming aware of their own danger, both mounted into the air again, and with a farewell scream flew off, and alighted at some distance down the river.
“a swan for supper!” shouted françois, as he poised his gun for the expected shot.
the canoe was headed for the bulrushes near the point where the trumpeter had been last seen; and a few strokes of the paddles brought the little craft with a whizzing sound among the sedge. but the culms of the rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, that the canoemen, after entering, found to their chagrin they could not see six feet around them. they dared not stand up, for this is exceedingly dangerous in a birch canoe, where the greatest caution is necessary to keep 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 green bulrush. they soon perceived that that would never do, and resolved to push back into the open water. meanwhile marengo had been sent into the sedge, and was now heard plunging and sweltering about in search of the game. marengo was not much of a water-dog by nature, but he had been trained to almost every kind of hunting, and his experience among the swamps of louisiana had long since relieved him of all dread for the water. 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 be cleared of the entangling sedge, the dog was heard to utter one of his loud growls, then followed a heavy plunge, there was a confused fluttering of wings, and the great white bird rose majestically into the air! before either of the gunners could direct their aim, he was beyond the range of shot, and both prudently reserved their fire. marengo having performed his part, swam back to the canoe, and was lifted over the gunwale. the swan, after clearing the sedge, rose almost vertically into the air. these birds usually fly at a great elevation—sometimes entirely beyond the reach of sight. unlike the wild geese and ducks, they never alight upon land, but always upon the bosom of the water. it was evidently the intention 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 a horizontal course, and followed the direction of the stream. his flight was now regular, and his trumpet-note could be heard at intervals, as, with outstretched neck, he glided along the heavens. he seemed to feel the pleasant sensations that every creature has after an escape from danger, and no doubt he fancied himself secure. but in this fancy he deceived himself. better for him had he risen a few hundred yards higher, 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 of the white-headed eagle. at the same instant two of these birds—those already introduced—were seen mounting into the air. they did not fly up vertically, as the swan had done, but in spiral curves, wheeling and crossing each other as they ascended. they were making for a point that would intersect the flight of 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 an almost vertical line. but he had to carry thirty pounds of flesh and bones, while the largest of the eagles—the female bird—with a still broader spread of wing, was a “light weight” of only seven. the result of this difference was soon apparent. before the trumpeter had got two hundred yards higher, the female of the eagles was seen wheeling around him on the same level. the swan was now observed to double, fly downward, and then upward again, while his mournful 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. the lacerated shaft fell uselessly down; and the great white bird, no longer capable of flight, came whistling through the air. but it was not allowed to drop directly to the earth; it would have fallen on the bosom of the broad river, and that the eagles did not wish, as it would have given them some trouble to get the heavy carcass ashore. as soon as the male—who was lower in the air—saw that his partner had struck the bird, he discontinued his upward flight, and, poising himself on his spread tail, waited its descent. a single instant was sufficient. the white object passed him still fluttering; but the moment 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 a diagonal direction. the next moment a crashing was heard among the twigs, and a dull sound announced that the swan had fallen upon the earth.
the eagles were now seen sailing downward, and soon disappeared among the tops of the trees.
the canoe soon reached the bank; and françois, accompanied by basil and marengo, leaped ashore, and went in search of the birds. they found the swan 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 had been gorging themselves, was spread in broad flakes over its snowy plumage. the eagles themselves, scared by the dog marengo, had taken flight before the boys could get within shot of them.
as it was just the hour for a “noon halt” and a luncheon, the swan was carried to the bank of the river, where a crackling fire was soon kindled to roast him; and while this operation was going on the “naturalist” was requested by his companions to give them an account of the “swans of america.”
