USA > Michigan > Van Buren County > A History of Van Buren County, Michigan: A Narrative Account of Its Historical Progress, Its. > Part 8
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ME-ME-OG, THE WILD PIGEON
In springtime when the rosy hand of morning light Unfolds the curtain of an April night. And golden clouds float in the liquid blue, As guardian spirits, weeping crystal dew, The frightened woodsman, in wonder list'ning stands! Thinks a whirlwind is abroad in the land! Darkness increases, his eyes grow dim. And as he seeks shelter from the impending wind, Suddenly his fears are turned to joy, for he sees Sweeping through and high above the forest trees Millions of pigeons, on their north-bound way, Almost shutting out the morning light of day!
In closing the aboriginal sketch of Van Buren county, I deem it appropriate to present an article written by the late Chief Poka- gon entitled "Me-me-og" (the migratory or wild pigeon of North
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America). It was published by the Chautauqua Magazine of New York which paid nearly one hundred dollars for the contribution. It is acknowledged by our best ornithologists to be the most ex- haustive article ever published regarding those wonderful birds, which, for unknown centuries had one of their main breeding grounds in Van Buren County, generally every other year, dur- ing April and May.
Audubon, the great American ornithologist, declared their num- bers were absolutely countless both at their roosts and breeding places. In his exhaustive work on ornithology he states that in 1813, near Henderson, Kentucky, he made a careful computation of a body of birds that passed northward in spring, estimating that it contained not less than one billion one hundred and fifty millions one hundred and thirty-six thousand pigeons and, as each pigeon would consume at least half a pint of mast per day, it would require to feed such a flock eight millions seven hundred and twelve thousand bushels per day. Think of it!
Residents of this county under forty years of age will probably read the old chief's account of them with many doubts, but those past that age will verify its truth. Notwithstanding the count- less millions of these birds thirty-five years ago, there has been a standing offer for years of five hundred dollars for a single pair of them ; yet no one has been able to produce them.
Many theories have been advanced regarding their total dis- appearance. One is that they undertook to cross one of the Great Lakes in a body, were overtaken by a tornado and drowned. Others claim they must have been wiped out by some contagious disease. While it seems to be well authenticated by some old sailors, that they witnessed, about the time of their disappearance, great bodies of these birds moving south across the Gulf of Mexico, in such great clouds that they shut out the light of day for several hours, and that in their opinion, unless they were drowned in the gulf, they are located somewhere in South America. From all I have been able to learn, for ages, they generally wintered in Ar- kansas, where mast was wonderfully plenty, and that in spring time they moved northward, nesting in Tennessee and Kentucky in February, in Indiana in March and Pennsylvania and Michi- gan in April and May. Their great wintering places in the south being broken up and the timber in the north that supplied them with such great quantities of mast, being cut down, so demoral- ized them that they could no longer exist in such vast bodies. Thus they scattered, and, like bees that abandon their hive, most of them could not survive an unsocial condition and finally died.
When our western plains in the spring and fall were covered with vast herds of buffalo moving north or south, migrating to
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their summer or winter feeding grounds, they were followed by immense flocks of wolves and other animals that fed on the calves and the old animals that were left in their rear, but with the pigeons it was not so. No birds of prey were swift enough to fol- low them in their flights. They were only preyed upon by such birds as lived where they located. They were followed and preyed upon by cruel man, who had knowledge of their breeding places, as described by the old chief in his article.
Some years since while ploughing, close in front of me a hawk swooped down and carried off in his talons a robin. It awakened in me an intricate train of thought. I began to inquire "How can an all-wise creator excuse himself for creating one creature to live upon another?" While my feelings were wrought upon by this thought, I heard in a thicket close by a touching sound like the crying of a strangling babe. Quickly I ran to see what it was. To my surprise I found a large black snake eciled about a rabbit that was begging for its life. Quick as thought, with my knife I severed the coils of the snake and released its vietim so quickly that it escaped without a "thank you." I then sat down on a log to consider and analyze my acts. Result: I had saved the in- nocent rabbit through sympathy and had butchered the snake through revenge! I finally concluded not to meddle further with great Nature's laws, but to accept the Darwinian theory of the survival of the fittest, which, physically speaking, is true.
MALE AND FEMALE PIGEONS The female on the right shows the size of the dove
[From photo furnished by Prof W. B. Burrows, Michigan Agricultural College.]
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The migratory or wild pigeons of North America, were known to our race as "me-me-og." Why the European race did not accept that name, was, no doubt, because the bird so much resembled the domesticated pigeon; as they called us, wild men.
This remarkable bird differs from the dove or domesticated pigeon, which was imported into this country, in the grace of its long neck, its slender bill and legs, and its narrow wings. Its length is seventeen inches. Its tail is eight inches long, having twelve feathers, white on the under side. The two center feathers are longest, while five arranged on either side diminish gradu- ally each one-half inch in length, giving to the tail when spread an almost conical appearance. Its back and upper part of its wings and head are a darkish blue, with a silky, velvety appearance. Its neck is resplendent in gold and green, with royal purple intermixed. Its breast is reddish brown, fading towards the belly into white. Its tail is tipped with white, inter- mixed with bluish black. The female is one inch shorter than the male, and her color less vivid. Its length of wings when spread is twenty-eight inches. It was proverbial with our fathers, that if the Great Spirit, in his wisdom, could have created a more elegant bird in plumage, form and movements, he never did.
When a young man I have stood for hours admiring the movements of these birds. I have seen them fly from horizon to horizon, from morning until night, in unbroken columns, like an army of trained soldiers pushing to the front, while detached bodies of the birds appeared in different parts of the heavens, pressing forward in haste like raw recruits preparing for battle. At other times I have seen them move for hours in one wide unbroken line across the sky, like some great river, ever varying in course and as some mighty stream, sweeping on at sixty miles an hour, reached some deep valley, it would pour its living mass headlong down hundreds of feet, sounding as though a cyclone was abroad in the land. I have stood by the grandest cata- racts of America and witnessed their descending torrents in wonder and as- tonishment, yet never have I been so moved and awakened in admiration as when I have seen these living columns drop from their course like meteors from heaven. While feeding they always have guards on duty, to give alarm of danger. It is made by the watch bird as it takes its flight, beating its wings together in quick succession, sounding like the rolling beat of a snare drum. Quick as thought each bird repeats the alarm, as the flock struggles to rise, leading a stranger to think a young cyclone is being born.
I have visited in the southern states many roosting places of these birds, where the ground under the great forest trees for thousands of acres was covered with branches torn from the parent trees, some from eight to ten inches in diameter. At such a time so much confusion of sound is caused by the breaking of limbs and the continued fluttering and chattering that a gun fired a few feet distant cannot be heard, while to converse, so as to be heard. is almost impossible.
About the middle of May, 1850, while in the fur trade, I was camping on the headwaters of the Manistee river in Michigan. One morning while leav- ing my wigwam I was startled by hearing a gurgling, rumbling sound, as though an army of horses laden with sleigh bells was advancing through the deep forests toward me. As I listened more intently, I concluded that in- stead of the tramping of horses it was distant thunder; and yet the morning was clear, calm and beautiful. Nearer and nearer came the strange com- mingling sounds of sleigh bells, mixed with the rumbling of an approaching storm. While I gazed and listened, in wonder and astonishment, I beheld moving toward me in an unbroken front millions of pigeons, the first I had
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seen that season. They passed like a cloud through the branches of the high trees, through the underbrush and over the ground, apparently overturning every leaf.
Statue-like I stood, half concealed by cedar boughs. They fluttered all about me, lighting on my head and shoulders. Gently I caught two in my hands and carefully concealed them under my blanket. I now began to realize that they were mating, preparatory to nesting. It was an event which I had long hoped to witness, so I sat down and carefully watched their move- ments, amid the greatest tumult. I tried to understand their strange lan- guage and why they chattered in concert. In the course of the day the great on-moving mass passed by me, but the trees were still filled with them sitting in pairs in convenient crotches of the limbs, now and then gently fluttering their half spread wings and uttering to their mates those strange bell-like wooing notes which I had mistaken for the ringing of bells in the distance. On the third day after, this chattering ceased and all were busy carrying sticks with which they were building nests in the same crotches of the limbs they had occupied in pairs the day before. On the morning of the fourth day their nests were finished and eggs laid. The hen birds occupied the nests in the morning while the male birds went out into the surrounding country to feed, returning about 10 o'clock, taking the nest, while the hens went out to feed, returning about 3 o'clock P. M. Again changing nests, the males went out the second time to feed, returning at sundown. . The same routine was pursued each day, until the young were hatched and nearly half grown, at which time all the parent birds left the breeding grounds about daylight. On the morning of the eleventh day after the eggs were laid, I found the nest- ing grounds strewn with egg shells, convincing me that the young were hatched.
In thirteen days more the parent birds left their young to shift for them- selves, flying to the east about sixty miles, where they again nested. The female lays but one egg during the same nesting. Both sexes secrete in their crops milk or curd, with which they feed their young, until they are nearly ready to fly, when they stuff them with mast and such other raw material as they themselves eat, until their crops exceed their bodies in size, giving to them an appearance of two birds with one head. Within two days after the stuffing they become a mass of fat (a squab). At this period the parent birds drive them from their nests to take care of themselves, while they fly off within a day or two, sometimes hundreds of miles, and again nest. It has been well established that these birds look after and take care of all orphan squabs whose parents have been killed or are missing. These birds are long lived, having been known to live twenty-five years while caged. When food is abundant they nest each month in the year. Their principal food is the mast of the forest, except when curd is being secreted in their crops, at which time they denude the country of snails and worms for miles around the nesting grounds. Because they nest in such immense bodies, they are frequently compelled to fly one hundred miles for food.
During my early life I learned that these birds in spring and fall were seen in their migrations from the Atlantic to Ki-tchi-se-be (the Mississippi river). This knowledge, together with my personal observation of their countless numbers, led me to believe they were almost as inexhaustible as the great ocean itself.
Of course, I had witnessed the passing away of the deer, buffalo and elk, but I looked upon them as local in their habits, while these birds spanned the continent, frequently nesting beyond the reach of cruel man. Between 1840 and 1880 I visited in the states of Tennessee, Ohio, Indiana and Michigan. Vol. 1-4
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Many breeding places were from twenty to thirty miles long and from three to five miles wide, every tree in its limits being spotted with nests. Yet not- withstanding their countless numbers, great endurance and long life, they have almost entirely disappeared from our forests. We strain our eyes in spring time and autumn, in vain, to catch a glimpse of these passing pil- grims. White men tell us they have moved in a body to the Rocky mountain region, where they are as plenty as they were here, but when we ask red men about them, who are familiar with that region, they "we-we-bi-kwen" (shake their heads) in disbelief. A pigeon nesting was always a great source of rev- enue to our people. Whole tribes would wigwam in the breeding places. We seldom killed the old birds, but made great preparations to secure their young, out of which the squaws made "bi-mi-de" (squab butter) claimed by them to be better than "cow butter."
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They also smoked and dried them by thousands for future use. Yet under our practice of securing them they continued to increase. White men commenced netting them for shipping to market between 1830 and 1840. These men were known as professional pigeoners, from the fact that they banded themselves together, so as to keep in touch with these great moving bodies. In this way they managed to keep almost continually on the borders of their breeding places. As they were always prepared with trained stool pigeons and flyers which they carried with them, they were enabled to call down the passing flocks and secure as many by net as they wished to pack in ice and ship to market. In 1848 there were shipped over one hundred tons of these birds from western New York and from that time to 1878 the whole- sale slaughter continued to increase and in that year there must have been shipped to market over five hundred tons of these birds. Think of it! Dur- ing that time hunters from all parts of the country were killing them with- out number; demoralizing them in their breeding places without mercy. A great ery has gone up at the north because the robins which breed in the northern states are killed as game birds in the south and no law to protect them. They, too, will become extinct like the pigeons, unless stringent laws are passed to protect them.
These traveling experts above referred to finally learned that the pigeons, while nesting, were frantic for salt, so they frequently made, near the nesting what they called salted mud beds, to which the pigeons flocked by the mil- lions. In April, 1876, I was invited to see a net sprung over one of these death pits. It was near Petoskey, Michigan. I think I am correct in saying that the birds piled upon each other at least three feet deep. When the net was sprung, it appeared that nearly all escaped, but when killed and counted there were over three hundred dozen, all nesting birds. When squabs in a nesting become fit for market, these experts prepared with climbers would get into some convenient place in a tree top loaded with nests and with long poles punch out the young, which would fall with a thud like lead, to the ground. In May, 1880, I visited the last nesting place of any size known in the United States. It was in Benzie County, Michigan, on Plat River. There were on these grounds many large white birch trees filled with nests; these trees have manifold bark, which, when old hangs in shreds like rags, along the trunks and limbs. This bark will burn like paper soaked in oil; here for the first time I saw with shame and pity, a new mode for robbing these birds' nests, which I looked upon as being devilish. These outlaws to all moral sense would touch a lighted match to the bark of the trees, when, with a flash more like an explosion, the blast would reach every limb of the tree and while the affrighted young birds would leap simultaneously to the ground, the parent birds would rise high in air amid flame and smoke. I noticed
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that some of the squabs were so fat and clumsy they would burst open on striking the ground. Several thousand were obtained during the day by this cruel process.
That night I stayed with an old man on the highlands just north of the nesting. In the course of the evening I explained to him the cruelty that was being shown to the young birds in the nesting. He listened to me in utter astonishment and said "My God, is it possible!" Remaining silent a few moments with bowed head, he looked up and said "See here, old Ingun; you go out with me in the morning and I'll show you a way to catch pigeons that will please any red man and the birds too." Early the next morning I followed him a few rods from his hut, where he showed me an open pole pen about four feet high, which he called his bait bed. Into this he scattered a bucket of wheat. We then sat in ambush so as to see through between the poles into the pen. Soon the pigeons began to pour into the pen and gorge themselves. While I was watching and admiring them, all at once, to my surprise they began fluttering and falling on their sides and backs and kick- ing and quivering like a lot of cats with paper tied over their feet. He jumped into the pen saying "Come on, you red skin!" I was right on hand by his side. A few birds flew out of the pen apparently crippled, but we caught and caged about one hundred live birds. After my excitement was over I sat down on one of the cages and thought in my heart "Certainly Pokagon is dreaming, or this long haired white man is a witch." I finally said "Look here old fellow, tell me how you did that." He gazed at me, holding his long white beard in one hand and saying with one eye half shut and a sly wink with the other "That wheat was soaked over night in whisky." His answer fell like lead upon my heart. We had talked temperance together the night before and the old man wept as I told him how my people had fallen by the intoxicating cup of the white man, like leaves before the blast of autumn. In silence I left the place, saying in my heart "Is it possible? Is there some of the white race in league with Maw-tchi-manito (the Devil) to deal out Ish-kot-i-wa-be (whiskey) to even the animal creation?"
I have read recently in some of our game sporting journals: "A war- whoop has been sounded against some of our western Indians for killing game in the mountain region." Now if these red men are guilty of a moral wrong which subjects them to punishment, I would most prayerfully ask in the name of Him who suffers not a sparrow to fall unnoticed, What must be the nature of the crime and degree of punishment awaiting our white neighbors who have so wantonly butchered and driven from our forests these wild pigeons, the most beautiful flowers of the animal creation of North America ?
In closing this article I wish to say a few words relative to the knowl- edge of things about them that these birds seem to possess. In the spring of 1866, there were scattered throughout northern Indiana and southern Michigan vast numbers of these birds. On April 10th, in the morning, they commenced moving in small flocks in diverging lines toward the northwest part of Van Buren county, Michigan. For two days they continued to pour into that vicinity from all directions, commencing at once to build their nests. I talked with an old trapper who lived on the breeding grounds, and he as- sured me the first pigeons he had seen that season were on the day they com- menced nesting and that he had lived there fifteen years and never knew them to nest there before.
From the above instance and many more I could mention, it is estab- lished in my mind beyond a reasonable doubt, that these birds, as well as many other animals, have communicated to them by some means unknown to us, a
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knowledge of distant places and of one another when separated and that they act on such knowledge with just as much certainty as if it were con- veyed to them by ear or eye. Hence we conclude it is possible that the Great Spirit, in his wisdom, has provided them a means to receive electric com- munications from distant places and with one another.
The buffaloes have gone, the pigeons are extinct and other game, once so abundant, is rapidly disappearing and the Indians them- selves are a disappearing race, rapidly journeying to their "happy hunting ground." If Mr. Engle is right, and he must be, for he speaks from observation and many years of experience and inti- mate acquaintance with them, the often-heard saying that "the only good Indians are dead Indians," is a base slander of a sadly maligned and misunderstood people. While there were bad Indians, as there are bad white men, they were by no means all bad. Among them, as among the Caucasian race, the good, no doubt, was pre- dominant.
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CHAPTER II FOREIGN AND AMERICAN GOVERNMENT
FRENCH PERIOD (1634-1764)-ENGLISH PERIOD (1760-1796)- TERRITORIAL (AMERICAN) PERIOD-MICHIGAN AS A STATE- POPULATION OF THE STATE (1810-1910)-POPULATION OF THE COUNTY (1840-1910)-PROPERTY VALUATION OF STATE AND COUNTY (1851-1911).
Any history of the county of Van Buren would be incomplete without an historical sketch in the outline of the early history of the great state of which it forms so important a constituent part.
Michigan, the twenty-sixth state of the Union, became a full fledged commonwealth by an act of congress, approved January 20, 1837.
FRENCH PERIOD (1634-1764)
Like many other historical occurrences not absolutely authentic, it is alleged that the first white man who ever set foot within the present boundaries of the state was Jean Nicolet, who was in the service of Governor Champlain, and that he first landed at the site of the city of Sault Ste. Marie, at which place he arrived in the summer of 1634. After remaining there for a short time he descended the strait and made a short stop at Michilimackinac, the Moche-ne-mok-e-nung of the Indians, and which is now known as Mackinac or, as it is sometimes written, Mackinaw.
Following Nicolet were the two Jesuit missionaries, Rambault and Jougues, who arrived at the Sault seven years later, in 1641. They found a large assembly of Indians there who received them in a very friendly manner and desired that they should remain among them, but their stay was brief and they soon returned to eastern missionary points.
In 1660 Pere Menard undertook to form a mission on the shores of Lake Superior and in October of that year he reached the head of Keweenaw bay, where he spent the winter among the Indians and in the spring he resumed his travels. He was accompanied by an Indian guide, but was either lost or murdered, as nothing fur- ther was ever heard of him.
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Five years afterward a mission was established and a chapel erected by Pere Claude Allouez, at La Pointe, the first house of worship ever built west of Lake Huron.
The second mission was founded at the Sault Ste. Marie, in 1668 by Pere Marquette, whose name is identified with Michigan his- tory and is perpetuated in one of the great railways that have so largely aided in developing the marvelous resources of the state. A year later, Marquette was joined at the Sault by Pere Dablon and they speedily established themselves in a fort constructed of cedar pickets, enclosing both the chapel and a residence for their personal occupancy, as well as a space for the growing of grain and vegetables-probably the first attempt at agriculture by white men within the boundaries of the state. In the fall of the same year that Marquette assumed charge of the La Pointe mission Al- louez went to Green Bay and Dablon remained at the Sault.
Since the time of the founding of these missions, the Sault has been inhabited by Europeans and Americans and is the oldest settlement in Michigan.
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