



Produced by Rachael Schultz, Thierry Alberto, Melissa
McDaniel and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)







Transcriber's Note:

  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
  been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

  The following inconsistencies were noted and retained:

      fly-catcher and flycatcher
      bottom lands and bottom-lands
      Kestrel and Kestril
      Chicasaw and Chickasaw
      Redwings and Red-wings
      Black-and-yellow Warbler and Black and Yellow Warbler
      Chuckwill's Widow and Chuck-Will's Widow
      Columbian Jay and Columbia Jay
      Shawaney and Shawanee
      Falco Haliaetos, Haliäetos, Haliaetus and Haliaëtus
      Pont Chartrain and Pontchartrain
      Genessee and Gennessee
      Musquito and moschetto
      Skuylkill and Schuylkil

  The following are possible errors, but retained:
      Massachusets
      napsack
      pease
      pannel
      scissars
      "flat and juicy" should possibly be "fat and juicy"
      "wet cloths" should possibly be "wet clothes"
      Gelseminum should possibly be Gelsemium
      Psittaccus should possibly be Psittacus
      Gadwal Duck should possibly be Gadwall Duck
      Anona should possibly be Annona
      The plate number of the Adult Female Great Horned Owl should
        possibly be LXI.

    Several of the words in the sections in French are unaccented where
    modern French uses accents.  They have been left as printed.




ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.




     ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY,
     OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF THE
     BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA;
     ACCOMPANIED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF THE OBJECTS REPRESENTED
     IN THE WORK ENTITLED
     THE BIRDS OF AMERICA,
     AND INTERSPERSED WITH DELINEATIONS OF AMERICAN
     SCENERY AND MANNERS.

     BY JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, F.R.SS.L.& E.

     FELLOW OF THE LINNEAN AND ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON; MEMBER
     OF THE LYCEUM AND LINNEAN SOCIETY OF NEW YORK, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY
     SOCIETY OF PARIS, THE WERNERIAN NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH;
     HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY OF MANCHESTER, AND
     OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY OF PAINTING, ARCHITECTURE, AND SCULPTURE, &C.

     EDINBURGH:

     ADAM BLACK, 55. NORTH BRIDGE, EDINBURGH;

     R. HAVELL JUN., ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, AND LONGMAN, REES, BROWN,
     & GREEN, LONDON; GEORGE SMITH, TITHEBARR STREET, LIVERPOOL; T. SOWLER,
     MANCHESTER; MRS ROBINSON, LEEDS; E. CHARNLEY, NEWCASTLE; POOL & BOOTH,
     CHESTER; AND BEILBY, KNOTT, & BEILBY, BIRMINGHAM.

     MDCCCXXXI.




     NEILL & CO. PRINTERS,
     Old Fishmarket, Edinburgh.




INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS.


KIND READER,—Should you derive from the perusal of the following pages,
which I have written with no other wish than that of procuring one
favourable thought from you, a portion of the pleasure which I have felt
in collecting the materials for their composition, my gratification will
be ample, and the compensation for all my labours will be more than,
perhaps, I have a right to expect from an individual to whom I am as
yet unknown, and to whom I must therefore, in the very outset, present
some account of my life, and of the motives which have influenced me in
thus bringing you into contact with an American Woodsman.

       *       *       *       *       *

I received life and light in the New World. When I had hardly yet
learned to walk, and to articulate those first words always so endearing
to parents, the productions of Nature that lay spread all around,
were constantly pointed out to me. They soon became my playmates; and
before my ideas were sufficiently formed to enable me to estimate the
difference between the azure tints of the sky, and the emerald hue of
the bright foliage, I felt that an intimacy with them, not consisting
of friendship merely, but bordering on phrenzy, must accompany my steps
through life;—and now, more than ever, am I persuaded of the power of
those early impressions. They laid such hold upon me, that, when removed
from the woods, the prairies, and the brooks, or shut up from the view of
the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most congenial
to my mind. None but aërial companions suited my fancy. No roof seemed
so secure to me as that formed of the dense foliage under which the
feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the
massy rocks to which the dark-winged Cormorant and the Curlew retired to
rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest. My father
generally accompanied my steps, procured birds and flowers for me with
great eagerness,—pointed out the elegant movements of the former, the
beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure
or sense of danger,—and the always perfect forms and splendid attire of
the latter. My valued preceptor would then speak of the departure and
return of birds with the seasons, would describe their haunts, and, more
wonderful than all, their change of livery; thus exciting me to study
them, and to raise my mind toward their great Creator.

A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with a
calmness of feeling, that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours,
whilst I gazed in ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay
imbedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves and twigs, or were
exposed upon the burning sand or weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic
shores. I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I
watched their opening, to see how Nature had provided each different
species with eyes, either open at birth, or closed for some time after;
to trace the slow progress of the young birds toward perfection, or
admire the celerity with which some of them, while yet unfledged, removed
themselves from danger to security.

I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form. These wishes, kind reader,
were for the entire possession of all that I saw. I was fervently desirous
of becoming acquainted with nature. For many years, however, I was sadly
disappointed, and for ever, doubtless, must I have desires that cannot
be gratified. The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had been
when in life, the pleasure arising from the possession of it became
blunted; and although the greatest cares were bestowed on endeavours to
preserve the appearance of nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than
sullied, as requiring