Under a Wild Sky, page 40
92These years, he said later Ibid.
92By the time he and Lucy left Ibid.
93Victor Gifford Audubon was born Ford, John James Audubon, page 74.
93He later said that only his family Audubon, Ornithological Biography, vol. I, page X.
93This, Audubon maintained Ibid.
93And probably no bird fascinated him more Audubon, “The Wild Turkey,” Ornithological Biography, vol. I, pages 1–17. Audubon’s long, detailed, and admiring natural history of the turkey is the basis for this entire section.
97One of his fans Ford, John James Audubon, pages 183–84. The wax impression of the turkey is still readily found on seals attached to much of Audubon’s correspondence.
97He recognized and often speculated To be fair, it should be said that while Audubon noted and described in some detail the egregious slaughter of certain species such as the passenger pigeon, the Carolina parakeet, and the ivory-billed woodpecker—to name three extinct examples—he was generally dismissive of the suggestion that human predation would ever completely eradicate any of these birds. In fact, he more correctly predicted that habitat loss would play a greater role in the reduction of bird numbers than would hunting.
97He sometimes said Audubon, “Letter from J. J. Audubon,” Monthly American Journal of Geology and Natural History, vol. 1, no. 9 (1832): 407–14. This rare journal—it was published for only a single year—is in the Ewell Sale Stewart Library at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia.
98Shotguns in Audubon’s time Carmichael (ed.), The Story of American Hunting and Firearms, pages 119–22.
98They typically had two barrels Ibid. I also examined and measured Alexander Wilson’s gun, which is at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. Additionally, some of the discussion of firearms and wingshooting is based on my own experience.
98Care had to be exercised Carmichael (ed.), The Story of American Hunting and Firearms, pages 119–22.
98A more life-threatening Ibid.
98Around 1825, percussion firing caps O’Connor, The Shotgun Book, page 4.
99Modern ornithologists still collect Personal communication, Nate Rice, Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. I discussed ornithology generally with Rice on several occasions in April and September of 2002.
99Although Audubon spent Ford, John James Audubon, pages 200–201.
99In Kentucky, where his technique matured Blaugrund and Stebbins (eds.), John James Audubon, pages 7–8.
100Audubon most likely never used Audubon did not write about his field equipment in detail, and this assessment is necessarily somewhat conjectural. He did, however, indicate many times the importance of his wiring technique, and it seems unlikely that the large boards he needed for this purpose would have been carried on routine excursions into the woods.
100He liked to sleep in the open Audubon, “The Wood Thrush,” Ornithological Biography, vol. I, page 372. In this lyrical account of one of his favorite birds, Audubon speaks of spending a stormy night in the forest beneath his “slender shed.” Whether this was, strictly speaking, a lean-to or some other type of shelter he fashioned for himself, it is clear that Audubon did not indulge himself with elaborate protection from the elements.
100Several collections of Personal observation, Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. Nate Rice generously allowed me to examine many of Audubon’s specimens in the collection in April and September of 2002.
100Methods varied—everyone tended to Personal communication, Nate Rice. Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. Rice invited me to observe him as he skinned a duck and explained the process to me on September 18, 2002.
102Once, Audubon and a group of friends Clark, The Rampaging Frontier, pages 211–12.
102In the quiet hours he spent Blaugrund and Stebbins (eds.), The Watercolors for The Birds of America, pages 3–25. Theodore E. Stebbins Jr.’s superb essay on Audubon’s life and art is a definitive study of the evolution of Audubon’s drawing style.
102Audubon destroyed his Ibid., page 3.
102A sign of what was to come Ibid., pages 7–8.
102Later, when Audubon recalled Audubon, “Kentucky Barbicue on the Fourth of July.” Ornithological Biography, vol. II, pages 576–79.
103In the spring of 1810 Herrick, Audubon the Naturalist, vol. I, page 198.
103Lucy’s father, complaining Ibid., page 199. Herrick quotes a letter from William Bakewell to Audubon and Rozier, dated April 10, 1810, in which Bakewell discussed the terms of the sale and the disposition of the proceeds. Bakewell went on to report that a “considerable quantity of ore” had been extracted from the lead mine, but it had yet to produce income—a hint, perhaps, that Lucy’s father thought the sale unwise until the true value of the property was known. The mine was eventually purchased by a Philadelphia paint manufacturer, who operated it profitably for many years.
8. MR. WILSON’S DECADE
104Wilson told Bartram about Wilson to William Bartram, April 8, 1807. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 260–61.
104In 1807, Samuel Bradford’s company Cantwell, Alexander Wilson, pages 140–41.
105One of the species formerly unknown Ibid., page 141.
105Wilson called on Wilson to Samuel Bradford, October 2, 1807. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 265–66.
105In New York, where he met Wilson to Daniel Miller, October 12, 1808. Ibid., pages 275–84.
105His reception was not always warm Wilson, undated journal fragment. Ibid., pages 291–92. This recovered section of Wilson’s travel diary during his tour of the Northeast is short—but chock-full of bitterness and sharp rebukes of the people he called on. One official in a state health office idly thumbed through a few pages of American Ornithology and declared the $120 price tag outrageous. Another public official said bluntly that he never bothered with books about “animals, fishes, plants or birds,” but that Wilson’s work was indeed beautiful. Wilson called the man a “reptile.”
105He found New York and Boston cramped and dirty Wilson to Daniel Miller, October 12, 1808. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 275–84.
105He was surprised and offended Wilson to Daniel Miller, February 22, 1809. Ibid., pages 296–304.
105White women stayed out of sight Ibid.
105It was rare Ibid.
105The general features of North Carolina Ibid.
106Wilson didn’t care for Ibid.
106In South Carolina Ibid.
106But plantation owners were Ibid.
106Near Wilmington, North Carolina Wilson, American Ornithology, vol. I, pages 134–35. The alert reader will wonder how it can be that Wilson’s account of this bird appears in the first volume of American Ornithology when the episode in question occurred while Wilson was on a sales trip with the already-completed first volume under his arm. The answer is that Wilson’s species accounts were later rearranged for the text-only 1831 Edinburgh edition cited here.
106Wilson’s shot only wounded the bird Ibid.
107There is a charm, a melody Wilson to Samuel Bradford, March 8, 1809. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 309–12. The original of this letter, which is in the archives at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, does not show an addressee, and while most modern scholars believe—based on the date and content—that it was to Bradford, Alexander Grosart indicated that it was to William Bartram.
107Wilson later calculated the cost Wilson to Daniel Miller, March 5, 1809. Ibid., pages 305–7.
107He was victimized by innkeepers Ibid.
107Sometimes he was forced to advertise Ibid.
107Despite the many difficulties Wilson to William Bartram, March 5, 1809. Ibid., pages 307–9.
107That same month Wilson to Alexander Lawson, February 22, 1810. Ibid., pages 320–25.
108Near the town of Carlisle Ibid.
108Wilson—in one of his moods Ibid.
108Later that evening Ibid.
108In Pittsburgh, Wilson was struck Ibid.
108Wilson sold nineteen subscriptions Ibid.
108Wilson bought a one-man skiff Ibid.
108He left near the end of February Wilson to Alexander Lawson, April 4, 1810. Ibid., pages 326–39.
108When he rowed Ibid.
109It was as if all these human beings Ibid.
109It was the breeding time for owls Ibid.
109On the morning of the seventeenth Ibid.
109Wilson found a room Audubon, “Louisville in Kentucky,” Ornithological Biography, vol. I, pages 437–40. And here we go. Audubon’s account of Wilson’s visit—later disputed by Ord and contradicted by the Wilson journal entry Ord produced for the ninth volume of American Ornithology—is nonetheless brimming with fascinating and perhaps fabulous details. Audubon wrote that Wilson was a solitary, melancholy figure at the hotel, and that the moody tunes Wilson played on his flute made Audubon sad himself. If Audubon in fact heard Alexander Wilson play the flute, he seems to be the only person who ever said so. On one point, at least, the two naturalists agreed. Wilson did stay at the Indian Queen. Since Audubon, Lucy, and Victor were living there at the time, it would seem indisputable that some kind of contact must have occurred.
109The dining room at the Indian Queen Yater, Two Hundred Years at the Falls of the Ohio, page 31.
110A day or two after his arrival Audubon, “Louisville in Kentucky,” Ornithological Biography, vol. I, pages 437–40.
110Audubon, who claimed Wilson Audubon, “The Whooping Crane,” Ornithological Biography, vol. III, pages 203–4.
111In fact, Wilson stated Wilson, American Ornithology, vol. III, page 25.
111A few days later Wilson to Alexander Lawson, April 4, 1810. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 326–39.
111Audubon said that when he compared Audubon, “Louisville in Kentucky,” Ornithological Biography, vol. I, pages 437–40.
111Audubon also maintained Ibid.
111Audubon told these stories Ibid.
111There was not a single subscriber Ibid. To the extent that we can read Audubon’s mind long after the fact, his quotation of the offending Wilson journal text, dated March 23, 1810, is, I think, a telling argument in favor of Audubon’s version of events. Audubon was famous for rarely offering formal responses to his critics. The fact that he does so here suggests that he felt this was an egregious misrepresentation on Wilson’s part—or, more sinisterly, on the part of George Ord, who chose to publish Wilson’s alleged comments.
111In a journal Wilson kept Extracts quoted in Herrick, Audubon the Naturalist, vol. I, pages 224–25. It seems George Ord put out a slightly different version of Wilson’s Louisville journal entry for each of the various editions of American Ornithology published in America and abroad in the years after Wilson’s death. In what appears to be the fullest excerpt from the lost journal, Wilson writes that two days after he got to Louisville, he examined “Mr.—’s drawings in crayons—very good. Saw two new birds he had . . .” Then, two days after that, “Went out shooting this afternoon with Mr. A.” Herrick believed this fuller excerpt clarified the record and supported Audubon’s story. So do I.
111There is evidence that Wilson had been alerted Ford, John James Audubon, page 75. And we might also consider the reverse possibility: Did Audubon know of Wilson before Wilson showed up in Louisville? In his account of the meeting, Audubon suggests that Wilson and his American Ornithology were a revelation to him when Wilson walked into the store in March 1810. Theodore E. Stebbins Jr., however, points out that Audubon cited Wilson for the scientific name of the indigo bunting, on a drawing Audubon made of the bird in June 1808. Wilson did, in fact, include the indigo bunting—or “indigo bird” as he called it—in the first volume of American Ornithology. But that was not published until September 1808. So Audubon must have added the name some time after he drew the bird. Whether that was before he met Wilson is impossible to say.
111And a different version Herrick, Audubon the Naturalist, vol. I, pages 224–25.
112Wilson made drawings Wilson to Alexander Lawson, May 18, 1810. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 358–70.
112Wilson had wounded Wilson to Alexander Lawson, April 4, 1810. Ibid., pages 326–39.
112Wilson actually met a man Wilson to Alexander Lawson, April 28, 1810. Ibid. A number of Wilson’s very long and richly detailed letters from the frontier—such as this one of several thousand words—were published in Philadelphia in the journal The Port Folio, which had been recently purchased by Samuel Bradford.
112In western Tennessee Wilson to Alexander Lawson, May 18, 1810. Ibid.
112At the end of April Ibid.
113I was advised by many Ibid.
113Eleven miles from Nashville Ibid.
114He later gave a full account Ibid.
114In the summer of 1811 Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, page 105. Ord apparently got in touch with Wilson after reading Wilson’s plea for information about birds from “gentlemen of leisure” who were interested in natural history, which he published in the Preface to the third volume of American Ornithology. Given the outlines of their lives, their seemingly instantaneous partnership, the intensity with which Ord continued Wilson’s work long after Wilson’s death, and Ord’s ferocious attacks on Audubon, it is not unreasonable to wonder about the extent of the intimacy between Ord and Wilson. Wilson’s intermittent, frustrating connections with women don’t tell us much, apart from the fact that he was unlucky in love. So was Ord, who was twice married. His first wife died and his second was confined to a mental hospital for most of her adult life. Ord had two children, a daughter who died in infancy and a son who became an artist. Ord apparently lived as a bachelor.
114Two years later, Ord got “Minutes of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia,” June 19, 1813. Although Wilson and his work are both intimately linked with the formative years of the academy, his election to membership came only two months before his death.
114Say, a founder of the academy Stroud, Thomas Say, page 40.
115In the end, he colored most Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 110–11.
115The original run of two hundred copies Cantwell, Alexander Wilson, page 234. The main problem with subscriptions was that Wilson, already overwhelmed with work on the engravings, could not find time to make collection trips. In the summer of 1812, just a year before he died, Wilson wrote to Sarah Miller—the sister of his friend Daniel—that Bradford was demanding payment and that if he could not make a trip soon to collect money he was owed, he faced “absolute ruin.” The confiding tone of this letter is evidence, according to Clark Hunter in The Life and Times of Alexander Wilson, that Wilson and Miller were in the early stages of a romance destined never to bloom.
115Many of his early subscribers Ibid., page 277.
115Volumes five and six Ibid., page 254.
115Wilson had by then Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 104–5.
115The seventh volume was finished Ibid., pages 112–13.
115He was now owed by his subscribers Cantwell, Alexander Wilson, pages 238, 253–54.
115His physical condition Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, page 113.
115George Ord, who’d been away A copy of Wilson’s will is in the archives at the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. The other coexecutor was Daniel Miller. Wilson left any and all other assets to Sarah Miller.
116Wilson had crossed the Tennessee River Wilson to Alexander Lawson, May 18, 1810. In Hunter, The Life and Letters of Alexander Wilson, pages 358–70.
9. AT THE RED BANKS
121Ferdinand Rozier wanted to move Herrick, Audubon the Naturalist, vol. I, page 236. Herrick says merely that the partners, discouraged by their failing business, decided to relocate. Alice Ford, perhaps closer to the truth in John James Audubon, speculates that Audubon, happily distracted by the woods and birds, barely realized the desperate situation at the store and only reluctantly agreed to the move.
121Henderson’s origins predated Towles, Henderson, page 15.
121In the years just before Ibid., page 22.
121Boone was one of the self-styled Faragher, Daniel Boone, page 28. As the name implies, “long hunts” were extended shooting and trapping expeditions that lasted weeks and, often, many months at a time. Boone made his first long hunt in 1750, through the Blue Ridge Mountains along what later became the Virginia/North Carolina border, eventually making his way up to Philadelphia, where he sold pelts from the trip. In the winter of 1767–1768, Boone undertook his first hunting trip into Kentucky, where he was trapped in a blizzard but also killed his first buffalo. Faragher states that in 1769, perhaps already secretly employed by Richard Henderson, Boone departed on a hunting trip into Kentucky that lasted two years—during which he was captured by, and escaped from, Shawnee Indians.
121In the summer of 1774 Towles, Henderson, pages 21–22.
122Daniel Boone and thirty men Ibid., pages 22–23.
122These mainly dealt with courts and militia Ibid., page 23.
122In September of 1775 Ibid., pages 23–24.
122Two years later the Virginia House Ibid., page 25.
122In the spring of 1797 Ibid., page 26.
122There was a loop in the Ohio Ibid., page 17.
122The bluff on the Kentucky side Ibid. Spring floods of the Ohio were a nearly annual occurrence, and because these could be mighty inundations, Henderson’s elevation was a significant asset. For a time, the Henderson city slogan was “On the Ohio, not in it.”
123There were 264 lots Ibid., pages 26–27.
123A general store operated for a while Ibid., page 30.
123When Henderson’s first saloon Ibid.
123Concern for law and order was considerable Adams, John James Audubon, page 113.
123Currency was hard to come by Towles, Henderson, page 32.
123The people spread throughout Ibid., page 29.
123By the time Audubon and Rozier visited Ibid.
123Even at that, Audubon Audubon, “Fishing in the Ohio,” Ornithological Biography, vol. III, pages 122–27.
