Rage King, Book Three.

An Urban
Fantasy Men's Adventure 1st Edition
Aaron Crash
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/rage-king-book-three-an-urban-fantasy-mens-advent
ure-1st-edition-aaron-crash/
RAGE KING
BOOK 3
AARON CRASH
 CONTENTS

Summary
Black Forge Books Mailing List

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39

More Adventures…
Books and Reviews
More Books by Black Forge Books
GameLit, Harem, and Cultivation on Facebook
LitRPG on Facebook
Even More litRPG on Facebook
List Of The Leyfolk Orders
List Of The Dingir—The Old Gods
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Patreon
About the Author
 SUMMARY

Dracula has come to the Rocky Mountains, and his favorite food
is fairy blood...
Colt Holliday is loving his life as the god of rage. His little blue
house is packed with women—a vampire, a werewolf, the goddess
of lust, and a pit bull named Pickles. But there’s always room for one
more!
When a sexy FoodWheel driver runs into his house seeking
sanctuary, Colt finds himself in the middle of an ancient war between
the Umbra Alliance, sworn to protect the Monstraverse, and the
Brightest Light, who wants nothing more than to kill all monsters.
That includes the mysterious Dracula, who just might be behind
Colt’s becoming a god in the first place.
In the final confrontation, all questions will be answered, all foes
will be vanquished, and Colt will finally be able to rule his kingdom
and pet his dog in peace.
 BLACK FORGE BOOKS MAILING LIST

Want to keep up with all of our great books? Visit Black Forge
Books and subscribe to our mailing list!

If you’d like to support Aaron Crash (and get access to exclusive

content and cool stuff), visit his Patreon page.
 CHAPTER ONE

C olt stood in the United Shipping & Post’s parking lot. He was a
huge, scarlet-skinned juggernaut of muscle in a black leather
war kilt.
Standing in the middle of the parking lot was an angelic figure in
black tactical armor. It wasn’t just your typical SWAT gear; it had
nanotechnology, and it was powered by green energy.
Charlie Snowblind floated above the ground, a halo of bright
energy over his head. Wings of ice, feathers like daggers, sprouted
from his back. Then his backpack glowed, and he was holding a
black long sword that vibrated with the green energy and the angelic
light of his birthright. He was Annukai, one of the Order of the
Adored.
On that dark, cloudy day, the flames on Colt’s scalp cast a bright
glow. He was the Rage King. And he wasn’t happy.
The god inside, Urgu-Uku, was in a good mood, however. Ah, we
have our murder today. I am going to enjoy murder. Let us add
destruction as well. We can destroy your place of employment. We
can murder everyone inside this building. Then you will be free to
rule.
Colt wasn’t in the mood to talk with Urgu.
Colt was already pissed he had to come in on a Saturday. He
was mad, but he was also curious. Supposedly, the crate that had
originally held the god of rage and destruction had been dropped off,
and he wanted to see if there were statues of other gods inside it.
 He’d been on his way inside when Brightest Light hunters had
come out of the woodwork to weld the doors shut so the weekend
crew couldn’t get out. Then they’d vanished. Their power had some
kind of cloaking ability.
Snowblind wasn’t cloaked. “Come for that shipment, have you?
And here I thought our snitch might not be telling the truth.”
Colt acted like he wasn’t impressed. “This is literally a shipping
place. Not a big stretch to think we’d have a shipment here. Just
leave now while you still have all your blood on the inside.”
Snowblind shouted at his unseen allies in the parking lot, “What
is the hunter’s oath? Lift your voices so that the Alcade of the
Brightest Light can hear you!”
Alcade? That must be the name of their leader.
All the hunters spoke at once from where they were hiding. “The
twilight of the world is here. All will be darkness unless our swords
shine with the light of righteousness. We shall cleanse the lands with
the blood of the unclean. We shall destroy all monsters. We shall
preserve humanity. We are the Brightest Light. Let our swords
shine!”
The idiots didn’t have swords. They had assault rifles fueled by
the generators on their backs. Colt could see some of them flicker,
but most were hidden. The backpacks whined. They opened fire.
The sound of the gunfire was muted. All Colt saw were the green-
tinged rounds bursting out of the muzzles.
The bullets slammed into him. These were upgrades from the
bullets he’d felt during his first round fighting Brightest Light hunters.
They stung more than fallen rocks. It was more like he was being
shot by BB guns.
The pain made Colt want to Earthquake Stomp them into a
ravine. If he did—come Monday—he wouldn’t have a place to park.
Damn contract. Urgu wasn’t wrong. This nine-to-five job sucked. It
would suck even more if he had to deal with parking lot construction.
Colt would kill the invisible hunters eventually, but first, he was
going to deal with Charlie Snowblind.
Construction seemed unavoidable, however.
 Colt reached down and ripped out a huge section of asphalt. It
felt like digging up a dirt clod. He flung the fifty-pound chunk of
parking lot at the angel soldier. Odd that the Brightest Light would
have someone from the supernatural world fighting with them.
Snowblind dodged the asphalt and flew up to Colt, but Colt
brought his hands together. His Fury Burst ability threw the angel
down to the ground, and he went rolling. He was up in an instant,
flinging ice knives with his wings.
The flung daggers hit Colt and hurt worse than the pellets from
the assault rifles. The Brightest Light soldiers soon stopped firing
since they weren’t doing anything but pissing the god of rage off
more.
Colt stormed forward. He felt so slow and lumbering. His next
upgrade was definitely going to be Massive Leap. Colt couldn’t reach
Snowblind in time, and the armored angel launched himself into the
air. The nanotech formed a pistol in his hand. He fired the green
energy rounds.
Colt felt a bullet punch him in the face. Just the first one. The rest
he blocked with an outstretched hand.
One of the Brightest Light soldiers appeared next to him. The
hunter whipped a length of green energy around Colt’s arm. It
sizzled around his red skin, and it had a weight to it. If Colt hadn’t
had Strength III, he might’ve had an issue. As it was, it made things
simpler.
He grabbed the green whip and pulled the soldier to him. He
knew from experience that the powered armor wouldn’t let him yank
off arms, so he took up the soldier in both hands and broke his spine
over his knee. The armor whined, but it wasn’t a match for his brute
strength. Maybe he could pluck off a few arms and legs.
Colt flung the ruined body at the floating angel above. Snowblind
cut the body in half with his sword. The two halves went flopping to
the ground. The nanotech immediately melted away, leaving the
severed corpse in armor. But he just looked like a soldier.
What was that nifty oath? It hadn’t helped save that poor son of a
bitch.
 Two more whips snared Colt’s arms. He was caught for a
second. Again, he got a grip on the energy—it felt like electrified
nylon cord—and he spun, yanking the two hunters off their feet.
Colt saw where the whips ended. He marched over and walked
on a downed hunter. He felt the skull give, the vertebrae break, the
pelvis snap. The soldier wouldn’t be hunting or oathing again.
Snowblind came soaring down.
Colt got his arm up to catch the blade. It rammed into Colt’s arm
—it didn’t break the skin, but the pain made Colt grit his teeth. He
tried to catch hold of the angel, but Snowblind was a quick one.
The whips didn’t work. So the other soldiers came forward with
their nanotech guns turned into machetes. Colt saw the blades in
their invisible hands. It made the invisibility pointless.
Urgu liked this turn of events. This is good. The mortals are
close. We can delight in the bloodshed.
Old Urgu. Always such a party animal.
Colt brought his hands together. The blast of energy floored the
soldiers. It also disrupted their cloak generators. They appeared
around him.
Colt managed to kick one fucker into pieces with a swing of his
mighty foot. That was kind of fun, watching all the pieces of the
soldier burst into wet explosions of broken bones, some blood, long
blue ropes of bowels.
Cold energy struck Colt. Ice formed on his feet and his legs. Frost
coated his arms. In seconds, he was stuck in place. That was a
problem, though, because if Snowblind could freeze him, the angelic
fucker might find a way to immobilize him.
Snowblind hung in the air above him, a smile on his thin lips.
“Feeling a little cold, demon?”
Urgu was incensed. I’m not a demon. I’m a god! Kill him, Colt! Kill
him!
Snowblind’s halo glowed a dazzling white, turning into a second
sun. Colt could feel the energy there, a mass of Gaia force, and he
thought his chances of surviving that blast were good but not great.
The halo emitted a beam of pure Gaia energy.
 Luckily, Colt’s body temperature ran hot. Like, extra hot. The ice
around his feet and legs had already started to melt. He broke free of
the icy chains and dodged the blast. It left a gaping, sizzling hole in
the parking lot. Fuck, that was near where he liked to park. This was
really inconvenient.
Fresh rage filled Colt. He started tossing hunters up at
Snowblind. The angel dodged everyone. This time, he didn’t cut
them in half. Probably because they were still alive. When they hit
the ground, they wouldn’t be.
Soldiers struck the parking lot, here and there, like armored rain.
Urgu wasn’t exactly thrilled at the state of things. Throw an
automobile at him. We must clip this bird’s wings!
More soldiers staggered up and attacked Colt again.
This was an example of several poor decisions. He punched a
soldier’s head off. He crushed another hunter’s chest with an elbow.
Colt then head-butted a third guy, burning the hell out of him—or
would that be burning the hell into him?—while at the same time
smashing both his helmet and his skull.
Snowblind was running out of soldiers to send at Colt.
And it would only be a matter of time before someone came to
free the people in the warehouse. Probably the fire department. But
the police might also show up.
“Retreat!” Snowblind called out. “We’ll report back to the Alcade.
We are the Brightest Light. Let our swords shine!”
The surviving soldiers echoed him as they vanished. “We are the
Brightest Light. Let our swords shine!”
The armored angel pointed his sword at Colt. “I don’t know what
you are, but now I know where to find you. We’ll be coming back. I’m
going to unravel who you are, and how I can fucking kill you. Tell Mr.
Gentleman that you monsters can run, but you can’t hide!”
Snowblind flew over the train track and was gone. His other
soldiers bolted. Except for one, and Colt scooped up asphalt and
tossed it at the remaining soldier’s back, tearing off an arm and
sending him headfirst into the ground. He wasn’t going to survive.
Colt didn’t want to be around when whoever was coming showed
up. He shifted back into human, and thanks to his Aether Tunic, he
was back in his Saturday clothes. He got in his truck and sped away,
avoiding the potholes he’d created in the parking lot.
All of Colt’s runes lit up as Urgu growled, Why are we fleeing?
There is murder to be had! Let us go into Denver and bring down the
towers there. Let us rejoice in the wailing and the gnashing of teeth.
“Urgu, I promise you, at some point, we will destroy a city. Just
not yet. I’m still getting the hang of this whole god thing.” Colt drove
around the block and drove into the parking lot as if he had just
arrived.
There were a couple of cop cars and a firetruck there.
All the humans were scratching their heads. Ambulances were
called to pick up the dead, while the place was cordoned off. A guy
with a torch was cutting open the doors to the office.
Colt parked and got out of his car.
He found the nearest cop and was surprised to see that he knew
him. Officer Dennis Polanski.
“Hey.” Colt nodded. “What happened here?”
Polanski shrugged. “I don’t know, man. And I couldn’t talk about it
even if I did. But your shipping warehouse is, uh, kind of a shit
magnet.”
Colt laughed. “Don’t I know it. This is where I work.”
The cop gave him a side eye. “You know anything about this?”
Colt shook his head. “Not a thing. I was just coming in to check
out a returned shipment. Then I saw all this, uh, carnage.”
Several ambulances pulled up.
Polanski sighed. “Lotta paperwork on this one. You still have my
card. Any information would be greatly appreciated. You know the
drill.”
“I do.”
Colt was able to finally get into the warehouse. He saw the
shipment of crates that had changed his life forever. They were a
little banged up, but they were there. Where had they come from?
He went to the security station to check how much of the incident
was recorded. Like before, no one saw a thing. The video just
showed static, but Denver’s murder rate was going to go up because
it had been a bloodbath.
 Colt’s phone rang. It was Gilly. She’d seen the news.
Colt told her he couldn’t talk. For obvious reasons. He promised
to be home soon, and he’d be bringing the crates with him.
A few things were troubling him. For one, how had Snowblind
known about the shipment? And why was one of the Annukai
working for the Brightest Light? Who was the Alcade? Another
question…how did Charlie Snowblind know about Mr. Gentleman?
Colt was going to solve that last mystery. He was going to find
the leader of the Umbra Alliance, and he was going to get some
information.
That wasn’t going to be easy. Mr. Gentleman had promised
retribution for rescuing Pia from her brother’s werewolf cult.
Fine. But Colt didn’t want to get ambushed again. Next time, he
wanted to be the one doing the ambushing.
 CHAPTER TWO

C olt was home by noon.

He parked in the driveway and left the crates in the back of
his truck for now. He’d signed them out and gone through all
the paperwork, because there were special rules for returned
shipments. He might get some slack from his manager, but it wasn’t
like anyone was waiting on the crates. The shipment was in package
limbo. Might as well be in limbo at his house.
Colt went through the back gate. He took a minute to enjoy the
sight of Gilly and Pia in the kitchen, making lunch. As Colt walked
down the muddy path through the lingering snow, he heard Pickles
bark. There was the scratch of claws on linoleum and then claws on
the back door.
Pickles knew her master was home.
Colt walked up the back steps and opened the door into the
kitchen. “Hey, girls!”
Pickles attacked his legs with licks. Pia attacked his face with
kisses. “Macushla! Are you all right? There was a fight, I know it, and
don’t fooking tell me there wasn’t!”
“There was,” he agreed. He stooped to give the friendly pit bull
lots of neck scratches. She flopped onto her back and offered him
her belly, and he petted her until she was whining with pleasure.
Gilly came over. She looked so much like Zooey Deschanel—
dark hair, blue eyes, and big black glasses. She rubbed Colt’s back.
“I’m so glad you are safe! I just wish we’d been there to help you.
The goddess agrees.”
 Gilly’s eyes flashed blue, as did her runes. “I would’ve helped you
slaughter them, my god. Then we could’ve fucked in the puddles of
blood.”
“Well, that’s just a bit shocking.” The door to the basement
opened and Eliza stood there in her nightgown, nipples visible. She
gave him a smile. “Tell us all about it, buster. All this bustle
awakened me from my beauty sleep. I shan’t be as beautiful come
twilight.”
“That’s a load of malarkey!” Gilly’s voice was loud, but it was her
own. “You’re amazingly gorgeous all the time! And sorry about Zeh-
Gaba. You have no idea how much I filter what that horny goddess
has to say.”
Eliza blushed. Though she’d been sleeping, her short blond hair
looked freshly brushed. Her eyes were big and brown.
Pia—dark red hair, freckles, and golden-green eyes—had
returned to the stove. She was cooking grilled ham and cheese
sandwiches. “Amen to that. Rezar de los santos, you are a dream
boat.”
The vampire girl rolled her eyes. “I’m a bad influence on you two.
You’re sounding like me more and more.”
Over sandwiches and potato chips, with a healthy side of actual
pickles, Colt recounted the fight, and all the strangeness of it. “I need
another rune,” he finished. “I couldn’t get at Charlie Snowblind
because the asshole can fly. I need Massive Leap to get at that guy,
but I’m also thinking about my other potential fire-based abilities like
Inferno Shield. He hit me with some kind of cold attack.”
Pia shook her head. “It’s banjaxed that he came after you at all.
But I like it that you’re thinking about contacting Mr. Gentleman. He
might not like us much, I reckon, but as leader of the fooking Umbra
Alliance, he better fooking help us.”
Eliza leaned against the doorway to the basement. She frowned.
“But how can we get in touch with him? The Umbra Alliance stays
hidden. They only come out to, well, meddle.”
Colt shrugged and swiped his sandwich through a pool of
ketchup. “I’m hoping that another fight, more bodies, and more
construction will have him reaching out to us. That may or may not
happen. We could also check with our other contacts. Marcus Knight
in Knight’s Ramble might know something. Or Xonic Xinnix up in
Plainsong City. It’s pretty clear that Bafflestone doesn’t want anything
to do with the Umbra Alliance.”
“No one fooking does,” Pia said, smiling. She was dressed in a
blue gingham blouse and jeans. “And remember, Mr. Gentleman
didn’t like the idea of saving me, so fook that guy anyway. Still, I
reckon we better be careful. He’s not someone to fook with.”
Colt would fuck with the mystery man all day long if he ever hurt
anyone the Rage King loved.
They finished lunch and then brought the crates in. There were
two big wooden crates and five boxes. Two of the boxes rattled when
Colt moved them. Those must’ve been the two that dropped on that
fateful day when he’d first encountered the Rage King.
They set up their workshop in the living room and used the coffee
table. Colt found it slightly ironic that they’d just finished cleaning out
his family’s hoarding nest only to bring more stuff in. They shut the
curtains and turned on the lights so Eliza could join them. She kept
yawning though. And she looked worried. The living room was her
sanctuary, where she watched movies all night long.
“This is only temporary, Eliza,” Colt said. “We just need to know
what we’re dealing with.”
“I get it, buster. But I don’t have to like it.” The vampire girl had
changed so much since they first met her. More and more, she had
what she liked to call moxie.
Colt opened the two damaged boxes first. Gilly picked through
the pieces of the statue that had been Zeh-Gaba—the statue had
been made out of clay, and it was ancient, all right. Gilly laid the
pieces out like a jigsaw puzzle. The head was intact, showing a
beautiful woman with thick braids. Gilly found one broken breast.
“I’m totally going to try to glue this back together,” the goddess
girl said. “It’s like the ultimate knickknack.”
Colt opened the box holding the Rage King. His head had
survived as well, showing a thick jaw, stylized fire on his skull, and
broad features. The abdomen was in pieces, but the muscled arms
and legs had survived. Instead of feet, the statue had hooves. And
there was the war kilt, a tail, and wings.
He thought about the Body Progression section of his stat sheet
and snapped his fingers. “Wings. Right. I’d almost forgotten.
“Wings?” Gilly literally giggled. “I found Zeh’s wings as well.
Winged gods! I can’t believe this is my life now. It’s…so…awesome!”
Colt sat back. “So should I try for wings or Massive Leap?” He
knew the answer. “There must be a learning curve, learning to fly.
Massive Leap is my best bet for now. There have been so many
times I wished I could just jump forward instead of having to run
around like a sucker.”
Pia frowned. “I like running. What’s wrong with running?”
“Nothing!” Gilly rubbed her back.
The wolf girl whined a little. “I want a stat sheet. Are we any
closer, Colt?”
“We’re getting there,” he said.
Eliza stood with her arms crossed. “Don’t worry, lover. We’ll get
you all fixed up. You’re not just our little puppy dog girl, you have the
soul of a god now.”
“It’s a goddess, I think,” the werewolf said. “Not a god. It got all
changed after what happened. Los santos, I can’t wait to see what I
can become.” She paused. “But that involves getting intimate. And
I’m not ready just yet.”
Colt knew why. Pia lost herself in the lovemaking. Their
encounters had been brief and hot, but they left her sobbing
afterward. They had to take it slow with her.
Colt opened up one of the crates. It was full of yellow straw—old-
world packing material. Various objects in the straw were wrapped in
simple white paper. There wasn’t any bubble wrap. Too new world
probably.
He dug around and started unwrapping objects. There were
daggers, lamps, jewelry, a few more statues, though these seemed
like simple things—a cow, a sheep, a stylized chicken, some goats,
and a shepherd with a crook. None of them seemed to be statues
that could imprison gods.
 Gilly adjusted her glasses. “Darn, but all this stuff belongs in a
museum. But I’m not sure if it should be a human museum or a
Monstra museum. Do the Monstra have museums?”
“I don’t fooking know,” Pia said, slightly frustrated. “Hey, Eliza, do
you know? And for the record, I’m not your puppy dog girl. Don’t like
that one bit.”
“I apologize for that, hairball.” Eliza smirked. “But no, toots, I don’t
know about any museums. Temples, yes, like the one in Firestone
Alley, but not museums.”
Gilly opened the second crate, then squealed with glee. “Yes!
Books! Big books. Old books. Oh my gosh.” She lifted a huge book,
the biggest book Colt had ever seen, out of the crate. She set it on
the floor and opened the rough leather cover.
They all gathered around. There were faded color pictures,
definitely hand drawn, surrounding text in a language that looked like
only lines and dots.
“Oh my stars and garters,” Eliza whispered. “To me, that looks
like the first language ever. It couldn’t be, right? I don’t know for sure,
but these might be older than the Leygian Tomes that Barney talked
about.”
Gilly nodded. “Well, I always wanted to learn a second language.
I had a chance to take Latin in high school but decided I didn’t want
to learn a dead language. This, uh, seems deader.”
“We’ll need some kind of Rosetta Stone,” Colt mused. Then he
had an idea. “I know the perfect place to take all this stuff. No use
cluttering up the house now that we have it all cleaned out. I can also
grab Grandpa Walt’s notes.”
“Where are you thinking of taking this stuff, Colt?” Gilly asked.
Colt was too engrossed to answer as he went through the second
crate. There were two other big books as well as more ancient relics.
One was a gorgeous amphora, painted with bright colors, that
reminded him of the Gaia plants he’d seen in the gardens of
Firestone Alley.
Then he tackled the three remaining boxes. In each was a statue.
The first was a big woman holding a wineglass and wearing a
toga that left one humungous breast exposed. To top it all off, she
had wings. Those wings would have to work hard to get her bulk off
the ground. She had a dazed, drunk expression on her face.
The next was far less interesting. It was that of an elven woman
holding a lyre, in mid-song, with her eyes closed. The workmanship
was extraordinary—the gown was carved to show the flow of the
cloth as it fell to her feet.
The last statue was probably the most impressive. It was a
woman with shaggy hair, topless and wearing a loincloth. A lizard sat
on her shoulder, with its tail draped around her neck. At her feet was
a dog with its mouth open. She was holding a cat.
Colt could feel the divine entities inside them. There were gods in
there, trapped. Two of them seemed clear—some sort of fairy
goddess and an elven goddess. The last one looked like a druid.
The women were silent as they took in the beauty and power of
the statues.
Then Eliza sighed. “When I took them, I counted the boxes, but I
also counted the statues. We’re missing two statues. One we know
of, right? That was the werewolf god that Lonny Lobo was trying to
give to his entire pack. But what was the other statue?”
There was no way to know.
Gilly, who had been rummaging around in one of the crates,
pulled out a piece of paper. She held it up. “There’s a packing slip.
So we know they were shipped to Vincent Isaac, right?
Colt nodded. “Yeah. The sender was some middleman in
Baghdad. A lot of it was in Arabic, which I translated into English, but
even then I couldn’t get a clear answer.”
Eliza stepped up to Gilly, who stood with a stunned expression on
her face.
Eliza touched her back. “What is it? I know that the statues were
first found back in the nineties, during America’s first war in Iraq.”
Gilly still couldn’t say a word.
Colt went to her and looked down at the name on the picking slip.
The shipment hadn’t originated in Iraq. It had come from Bucharest.
So the statues had been found in the Middle East, but then shipped
to Romania, and then shipped to the U.S.
And the sender? Vladimir al Treilea.
Colt put it together. “Vlad the Third. Also known as Dracula.”
 CHAPTER THREE

F ifteen minutes later, Colt was standing in front of his back door.
He inserted the magical doorknob, turned, and opened the
Dooring Bridge to the entrance of Firestone Alley. He’d grabbed
a crate and filled it with the three statues. They’d eventually bring
everything to Firehome Manor, but these artifacts were clearly the
most important.
Gilly held one of the books along with the packing slip that had
Dracula’s name on it. Pia carried the other two books.
Eliza stood on the basement steps. “I’ll stay here out of the
daylight and take care of Pickles. Have fun! Bring back answers! I
love you!”
Colt flashed her a smile. “Love you too!”
Then they were through the door and on the staircase leading
down.
They talked with the vampires guarding the front door, Harry and
Jimmy, and then they were hurrying down the steps and across the
walkways until they were at the doors of the manor. They knocked,
and Mellia let them in.
They found Bafflestone in the dining room-turned-workshop. He
was working on repairing his device. It had been shattered when Pia
had shifted into a werewolf with a god-level core.
“Friends!” the blue-skinned gnome called out happily. “Garn, ye
were just here last night! Back already?” The gnome scowled. “I
haven’t had a chance to look at Pia’s stat sheet just yet.”
 Colt nodded. “I was wanting to use one of the rooms in our new
suite upstairs as an office. Would that be possible?”
The Tomte engineer clapped his hands together. “Great minds
think alike. I was thinking the same thing. I had a desk brought up
there, and I finished off the wallpaper this morning. It’d be great to
have ye around.”
Bafflestone took Colt, Gilly, and Pia upstairs and through the
living room of the suite. Colt found himself in a room with empty
bookshelves. A desk faced the window, which had a view of
Firehome Manor’s pools and fountains and the twinkling lights of the
ravine city.
Colt set the crate on the floor and removed the three statues. He
set them on the desk.
Gilly laid the packing slip and books there as well.
Bafflestone’s eyes were wide. “Ye found the shipment. Garn me
blue, ye found the lost statues.”
“Three of them anyway,” Colt said. “We’re missing a god.”
The gnome stroked his beard. “Garn, but that’s not good. By the
world’s gears, we’ve seen how rogue gods can cause such trouble.”
Gilly wrinkled her nose. “I know. Losing track of ancient divinities
is never a good idea. But here we are. Dang. I’m glad Colt and I got
two of them. I mean, I love being a goddess. Have I mentioned
that?”
Pia stood with her hands in the pocket of her pink jacket. “You’re
rambling, macushla.”
Colt set the agenda. “Let’s talk gods first. Then books. Then
packing slips. And then, if we have time, we can figure out why
Charlie Snowblind attacked me and who the Alcade might be.”
“Hate them hunters,” Bafflestone said with a scowl. He glanced
around. “Got the desk but forgot the chairs. Let me have Mellia get
some. Mellia!”
The elf woman called back, “Do not shout my name, Mr.
Bafflestone. I am not your servant.”
Bafflestone grinned. “She kind of is. But don’t tell her that.”
More elves brought them chairs, and they all sat around the desk.
 Bafflestone handled each of the statues. He lifted the statue of
the wild woman with the three animals: the lizard, the dog, and the
cat. “This is Ki-An, goddess of the beasts and trees. She’s sacred to
the Houdon, Goyangi, and Kobolds. It’s a shame that she’s caged. I
hear she was gentle and loving, or so the stories say.”
The next statue he appraised was the elven woman. “That’s
Nabu-Eresh, goddess of the singer and the song. While the Lyra can
be difficult to deal with at times, Nabu-Eresh brought peace and joy
to those around her. A good woman, by all accounts.”
He frowned at the last statue of the chubby pixie. “And last but
not least, feast yer eyes on Boobah-Banshu, goddess of the feast
and laughter. She’s special to the Unseelie, so she’s trouble. But
then, some Unseelie don’t even try to have fun and feast. They
worship the goddess Ziki-Urrudu, who as ye know is the goddess of
chaos and trickery. She’s very bad business.”
Bafflestone itched his beard. “So we have three divine entities,
trapped. Uncaging them might do all sorts of things. Not sure. If we
wanted to break one open to get why they were trapped and who
trapped ’em, we should do the elf goddess. At least we’d get some
entertainment.”
Colt had a couple of realizations. “There is no way I want to
release more gods into the world, not when I’m still learning how
things work. And I have to say, the safest place for the statues isn’t
Firestone Alley. It’s our little blue house. We have the bloodwax
candle there.”
Pia beamed. “You said it’s ‘our’ little blue house. You included
me. Can’t help but be touched by that.”
Colt gave her a smile and felt the pull to kiss her. The wolf girl
was so beautiful.
Gilly paced around the table. “Okay, okay, okay. So we have gods
trapped, and we have Dracula who might’ve found them, but we
don’t know. But we have books. Lots of books. Could the history of
the statues be in the books? Could they? Wanna take a peak,
Barney?”
“Love to, missy!” the Tomte engineer said. “Which reminds me.
Mellia! Did those books come in from Buzzwallow?” He winked at
Colt. “That’s me hometown. And Mellia isn’t going to be happy about
me yelling at her.”
Mellia didn’t yell back. But another elven butler came in holding a
package of three more books. He set them down on the desk, which
was growing more crowded all the time.
Bafflestone tapped the books. “The Leygian Tomes, missy. Like I
promised. They have history, poetry, stories, and a whole bunch of
other lore. You’ll have to learn Leygian, but I have no doubt that you
can.”
Gilly laughed. “At least we have a ton of shelf space! Looks like
we’re getting quite the library.” She opened one of the crate books
and one of the Leygian Tomes and compared the writing. “It’s quite
different. So these books are written in different languages.”
The gnome stood on his chair to scan the texts. “Not different
languages. Same language, only one is older. Yer crate books are
written in Ancient Leygian. And like most languages, folks can’t
decide on which words they like better, and then there’s new slang,
and then there’s words borrowed from the humans because words
like other words, and all the words come together like a smashed
root salad.”
Colt thought that might be potato salad. He didn’t ask.
Gilly winced. “Why learn one language when you can learn two?
The writing is so different!”
“Got changed up at some point,” Bafflestone said. “Which is why
math is better than language. Math don’t ever change once ye
decide upon symbols. Only, I guess the Leyfolk have different
mathematic symbols as well. Ain’t the world so complicated? By the
world’s gears, I kinda like the complexity myself.”
“Sounds completely fooking banjaxed.” Pia sighed. “I’m bored,
and I miss my dog. Los santos, can we get to the interesting parts of
the fooking conversation?”
Bafflestone laughed. “And my machine might be fixed enough for
me to look at yer stat sheet. Let’s not forget that. How many runes
do ye have?”
“One.” Pia smacked her left ass cheek. “But I won’t show it to
you, you horny gnome.”
 Bafflestone sighed. “Not as horny as I used to be.”
Gilly’s eyes flared blue. But she kept her mouth closed to keep
the goddess of lust from saying something nasty. She looked
relieved as she handed him the packing slip.
The gnome pored over it. “Vladimir al Treilea. That’s Count
Dracula all right. Lots of stories about him. The Fate Blade hilt
mentioned the Stygian Father. Could be the same. Could be
different. Funny he got all these statues, and then sent them to
Vincent Isaac. I wonder why.”
Pia wolfed out and stood above them, a huge beast girl. “Rezar
de los santos! We don’t know a fooking thing. Fooking mysteries.
You all don’t know who the Stygian Father is, you don’t know where
this Dracula hombre is, and all we know is that Charlie Snowblind is
breathing down our necks! I say fook the whole lot.”
Urgu’s laughter echoed around Colt’s skull. I like this girl. She has
some fine rage. Let us give her another rune as soon as possible.
Colt muttered to himself, “We have to be patient, Urgu.”
Gilly grinned. “Your god getting chatty, Colt?”
“Something like that.” He paused. “I agree. Charlie Snowblind is
going to come after me again at work. When he comes, I’m going to
rip out his spine and beat him to death with it. I hope he comes soon
because I don’t want to deal with the new asphalt construction twice.
I do worry he’ll find our little blue house.”
Gilly shrugged. “If he does, I’ll fill him full of arrows. Sure he can
fly. But I can shoot. Really well. Thanks to my middle school archery
unit. And Zeh-Gaba. She wants to make sure she gets most of the
credit.”
“I fooking hate the Brightest Light,” Pia growled. “But I know
enough to be cautious when it comes to Charlie Snowblind.”
“What do we know about him?” Colt asked.
Bafflestone took off his little blue cap and scratched his head.
“Oh, some. From all accounts, he’s a hybrid, part Annukai, part
human. Most of the time, the women die giving birth. If that be the
case, Mr. Snowblind came out angry at the darkness in the world.
With a mission to bring light to that darkness.”
“Yeah, I heard their oath,” Colt said.
 “He’s leading the Brightest Light’s elite forces. He isn’t done with
ye yet. Be careful.”
Colt went over to pet Pia’s soft fur. She liked that. She whined a
little, just like Pickles had when he’d petted her belly. “He mentioned
a snitch. I kinda think whoever returned the shipment to us also told
Snowblind where I’d be. Do we have any idea who the snitch might
be?”
“If we know who they are, we’ll eat them up,” Pia said.
Gilly stopped pacing. “That snitch is going to be laying low. As we
all know, Monstra who betray the Leyfolk are despised. Poor Eliza
had to live with that shame for a hundred years.”
“Poor Eliza indeed.” Bafflestone closed the books. “I misjudged
her, but it took me a while to see the goodness in her soul. I’ll contact
Marcus Knight and Xonic Xinnix. Between the three of us, we just
might learn more about Dracula and Snowblind. And there’s that
cute gnome bartender up in Plainsong City. She’s around drunks
with loose tongues. She might have heard something.”
Gilly flashed the gnome a grin. “Oh, so you’re pretending to not
know her name. If you know she’s cute, you know her name.”
The Tomte engineer blushed purple. “Fine. Stella Cavernlook.
Runs Torchy’s Tavern. I know Stella. I ain’t got time for love.”
“Except your love for Mellia,” Gilly needled him.
Bafflestone stuck out his tongue. “A Lyra and Tomte in bed
together, rubbing noses? It ain’t done, missy. Or hasn’t been much.
Let’s not talk about that.”
Colt thought the gnome might be protesting a bit much. He
changed the subject. “Hey, Bafflestone, so who runs the Brightest
Light? Snowblind mentioned something about the Alcade.”
The gnome sighed. “Aye, garn, all we have is the name. He’s the
Grand Judicial Alcade of the Holy Army of the Brightest Light. That is
all we know, and that’s all we need to know. He wants all Monstra
dead. The end. Don’t know if it’s an elected position. Don’t know if
it’s a ruler for life deal. Just don’t know.”
There was a beat of silence. Colt could imagine a bunch of rich
people financing the operation. In the end, it probably didn’t matter.
 Bafflestone snapped his fingers. “I was gonna wait on something,
but nope, by the world’s gears, I can’t wait. I’ll be back with a
surprise for ye, Colt. And for ye, Pia.”
The werewolf girl shifted human. “For me? What is it? I can’t wait,
’cause rezar de los santos, I love surprises. Is it a present? Tell me
it’s a present!” She danced a bit. The excitement was too much for
her to contain.
Again, Colt was reminded of Pickles.
“Be right back,” the gnome said mysteriously.
 CHAPTER FOUR

C olt took the time to look out the window. After Pia’s kidnapping,
he was worried about Eliza. He could go up to the gas station
to call her, just to check in, but he thought he might be
paranoid. This was no way to live. Yes, the Umbra Alliance might
help him deal with Charlie Snowblind and the Brightest Light, but
then, Mr. Gentleman’s true motives weren’t clear.
Colt had to remember that Eliza was tough. With her four Runes
of Power, she had abilities far greater than your average vampire.
She’d be fine. He had to focus on that. Thank goodness for the
bloodwax candle. Sure, the human hunters could make it into the
house, but not Charlie Snowblind.
That made Colt feel much better.
Gilly saw his worry. “I’ll go and check on her. We love our vampire
girl!” Gilly took off upstairs after giving Colt a kiss and Pia a hug.
Part of the magic of the Dooring Bridge was that the doorknob in
Colt’s back door put a magical passkey on the person using it.
Returning, the magic would take Gilly from Firestone Alley back to
the little blue house automatically. It was very sophisticated magic,
and Colt was proud of the work that he and Bafflestone had done.
Speaking of which, the Tomte engineer returned with a skeletal
version of his keyboard machine. The gears were exposed, and the
two arms were made from all sorts of metal. Colt liked it a lot. Then
he knew what it was. “You made me a machine?”
Bafflestone radiated pride. “A G.A.D., mister. Garn, but we have
to call it something. Gaia Analysis Device. Figured ye’d get tired of
always coming to Firehome Manor to make adjustments. If ye have
half the wit of yer grandfather, ye’ll figure it out right quick. I even
made ye a carrying case for it. I’ll get it before ye leave.”
Pia tried to smile, but she looked nervous. “Can you use that
doohickey to look in me?”
Colt pulled a chair up to the front of the desk. “Let’s see.”
He’d seen Bafflestone work his keyboard well enough that Colt
thought he knew the keystrokes. He did.
Setting Pia’s fuzzy pink orb in front of the G.A.D., he started
hitting keys.
The werewolf girl appeared in the globe, the green of her status
not really meshing with the pink color. Suddenly, they were seeing
her stat sheet for the first time.

<<<>>>

Gaia Orb for Lupita Maria Holliday Reyes Hennessey

Gaia Force Level: 1 (New Mutation?)
Rune Genesis Status: Green (Go)
Body Progression:

Lupine Transformation

Gaia Abilities:

Lupine Racial Attributes

Speed
Strength
Heightened Senses
Limited Invulnerability (Silver Sensitivity)
Heal Wounds
Lunar Regeneration
Tantric Regeneration
Sharp Talons I
Territorial Dominion I
 Pack Leader’s Call I
Pack Bite I
Summon Moon I

Special Gaia Mutations:

Add New Ability

<<<>>>

“Los Santos!” Pia was blown away. Then she turned pink from
embarrassment. “You can change my long name, if you want. Lupita
Holliday would be fine. I’m yours now.” Tears filled her eyes and she
squeezed them close. “I love my mother and da, but they’re gone.
And the Howlett pack isn’t my pack no more.”
Colt saw where he could make the change, but he loved that it
took five minutes to say her full name. “I’d like to keep it, if you don’t
mind. It’s as much a part of you as your accent.”
Bafflestone stroked his chin. “It’s interesting that the wolfy missy
doesn’t have the name of the god in her. Then again, a chunk of
Arshaka-Shaka went back into the Ley Lines. Or so ye said. But I
think she’s a god all right. Look there. The missy has a whole mess
of skills already. Be garned if I knew what they can all do.”
“I know,” Pia whispered. “From stories of the god of the moon and
the hunt. Territorial Domain would give me knowledge of my territory
and an edge if I fight there. Pack Leader’s Call? Well, I can summon
my pack to me. From any distance. Pack Bite means I can bite
someone, and force them into my pack. At least for a bit. And fook
me, Summon Moon. I can’t believe I can do that. I can summon
moonlight. It would make me…make me powerful. Lonny was
banjaxed. But he wanted to share this with us all.” Tears streamed
down her face. She seemed too shocked to wipe them away.
Even with all that, she still had a new ability to add.
Colt loved the idea that, along with the bloodwax candle, Pia
could use her Territorial Dominion to add a layer of protection. She
could sense if anyone came into her dominion. He’d have to
research her skills more. And now he had the device to do just that.
Also, he could brainstorm her possible mutations. Maybe there
would be something in the books they had that could help them as
well.
Pia threw her arms around Colt. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank
you! Even if I don’t get another rune, this is enough. This is more
than enough.”
Colt was just pleased that they had one more weapon in their
arsenal. This truly was a huge improvement. Having three gods in
the pack would only keep them safer.
Gilly returned. “Nothing to report. Eliza got a little burned letting
Pickles out, but both our vampire girl and our doggo are just fine.
Thank goodness.” She saw the stat sheet. “Oh gosh. What did I
miss?”
Colt told her everything.
Gilly squealed, hugged Pia, hugged Colt, and even hugged
Bafflestone. “This is so great!” Then she squinted at the stat sheet. “I
see you have both Lunar and Tantric Regeneration. What are
those?”
Pia winced. “Uh, they are, well, part of being a werewolf. Do I
have to fooking explain them?”
Colt shrugged.
Gilly, though, was far less reserved. “Yes! I am dying to know
more about the Order of the Moon! Tell us everything!”
“Hold up, missy.” Bafflestone made his way to the door before
turning around. “I’ll give ye all some privacy. This seems to be rather
delicate.” He grinned before leaving.
With Bafflestone gone, Pia inhaled. “I need the moon. I get
weaker without the full moon. But that won’t be a problem now, on
account of my god skill. Summon Moon. Still can’t fooking believe it.”
“And the Tantric Regeneration?” Gilly asked. Then Zeh-Gaba
took over. “She needs her pink twat tickled from time to time. The
Order of the Moon need to fuck, regularly, to keep healthy. They can
do it themselves for a time. Eventually, though, they need someone
else to make them come.”
 Colt found himself getting hard.
Gilly blinked the goddess away as the runes on her body glowed
blue. “Zeh is loving this. I am intrigued. But sorry I couldn’t, um, keep
that to myself.”
Pia was speechless.
Colt cleared his throat. “How often do you need the Tantric
Regeneration?”
Pia moved a bit away from them. “About as often as Eliza needs
blood. For us, it’s kind of the same. But I’ve been too shy to talk
about it. Now, though, I see I’ve been silly.”
Gilly took the wolf girl’s hand. “You’ve needed some time. We
understand. We won’t push you.”
“I’m scared of how I get after we’re intimate,” Pia said softly. “You
don’t know what it’s like for me, when I…” Her voice trailed off.
Colt didn’t know exactly. But he remembered holding her while
she sobbed. “We can see if we can make it better. We can be there
for you. Before. During. After. For as long as you need.”
Pia looked at them with wide eyes. “I need a minute alone. I can’t
believe I’m saying that. Before Lonny, I hated being alone. Now I
need a moment to collect my thoughts.”
“Take all the time you need,” Colt said.
She needs a fucking, Urgu growled. What are we waiting for,
Colton Holliday?
He left that question unanswered.
Pia blushed. “Maybe…maybe for sex, I might need to be pushed
a bit. Sometimes I like to be the submissive ’cause it helps me get
over the fear. Do you reckon we could try a bit of the rough play?”
“Yeah, we can,” Gilly said breathlessly. “Don’t worry, Zeh loves
being the dominant. But then, she basically has every kink
imaginable. And now I guess I do too. It’s, uh, eye-opening. Oh,
Gilly, stop your rambling now.”
Pia laughed. “You’re not rambling because you’re embarrassed.
You’re rambling because you’re randy. You’re a randy rambler.”
Gilly raised a hand. “Guilty as charged.”
“Be back soon, macushla.” Pia gave them a little wave. Then she
hurried out of Colt’s office and out of the suite, leaving him alone with
Gilly.
She came over and took him in her arms. “It’s wonderful news
about Pia. About her god-level skills. The books are also good news.
And we have three gods in our care. We don’t know how many there
are, but having three gods is pretty flippin’ awesome. Lastly, we
might actually get to meet Count Dracula. Yeah, we might have to kill
him, but so what? I don’t know about you, but I love our new life
together.”
“Totally love our new life,” he agreed. “Any regrets?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I mean, when you meet my
parents, you might have regrets. For me, I love being on my own, in
our little blue house, with all these interesting women. Tough women.
Strong women. I love it. Like I love you.”
She gazed into his eyes. To think, not that long ago, this had just
been the pretty girl in his statistics class. Now, she was a vital part of
his life—she and the goddess within her.
“I love you too,” he said.
A grin tugged on the corner of her lips. “Any regrets on your
end?”
He answered immediately. “Not a one. You know, all my life, I
went from one disappointment to another. One death to another.
Another tragedy. Another funeral. Another change. I’d see the other
kids in my class and think that all of them had it so easy. When they
complained, I just rolled my eyes. They didn’t know what it was to
have such assholes for parents. They didn’t know what it was like to
lose everything. I did. Now? I can choose what I want. For the most
part. Still have the day job. But really, working for US&P keeps my
grandpa’s memory alive. It feels like I’m with him, though it’s so
much more corporate than how he ran things.”
He glanced down and saw Pia at the edge of a balcony, looking
down at the lights twinkling across the way in the ravine. The power
of the Ley Line following I-25 gleamed above them.
He was glad that Pia was in his line of sight. Losing her once had
hurt. He wasn’t going to lose her again.
Gilly turned to see what he was looking at. “She’s something. I
love that you’re so protective of us. Zeh is too. Zeh talks about how
Urgu would destroy the world for her. There’s a story there, and not
all of it is happy. I’m hoping to find something in those books that can
tell us the whole story of the gods. You know, I bet we can come up
with a skill to help me. Some sort of language skill that will help me
read the books.”
Colt smiled. “You’re so smart. I love nerdy girls so much.”
“Good thing because I am such a nerdy girl.”
He turned serious. “I would destroy the world to keep you all safe.
That’s probably not a good thing, but it’s the truth. And the Brightest
Light has picked the wrong guy to fuck with. When Snowblind comes
after me again, I’m going to take him down. Literally. I’m not going to
play it safe. I’m going to play it rageful.”
Gilly blushed. “It’s kind of scary, but that turns me on so much.”
Colt pulled her closer and held her tight. “I can help with that.” He
buried his face in the crook of her neck and sucked on her throat.
It was Zeh-Gaba that growled into his ear. “It is not just you I
want, my god. It’s that little wolf slut. Her fear is keeping her out of
our bed. She needs to be brought to heel, like a bitch to her master.”
Colt wasn’t going to force Pia to do anything she didn’t want to
do. However, if she needed some stern encouragement, the
goddess of lust would be perfect for that.
Bafflestone brought back carrying cases for Colt’s new G.A.D. as
well as the Unum Forge. After they said goodbye, Colt, Gilly, and Pia
made their way out of Firestone Alley with the statues and a couple
of the books. For now, they had a game plan—Bafflestone would
reach out to his contacts about this Dracula character. Gilly would
learn Leygian, possibly by magical means, and Colt would fucking
kill Brightest Light hunters until they left him and the women alone.
And fuck Mr. Gentleman. If he wanted to be mysterious and
unreachable, Colt wasn’t going to add him into the equation.
Colt walked through the gas station door up in Firestone, and it
took him through his back door and into the kitchen of the little blue
house. He inhaled the familiar smells of coming home.
Pickles went to Colt first, then Gilly, then Pia, all to get her pets.
Then she wanted to dash outside to do her business and explore
Colt’s backyard. It would take at least twenty minutes for her to get
cold.
It was night now, and the house was a bit chilly, so Colt went and
turned up the thermostat. He heard the clatter of Eliza’s shoes on the
basement steps. “Hello! I’ve been an Impatient Iris waiting for you to
get home. This nocturnal nonsense is for the birds!”
He heard the vampire girl gasp.
Colt turned to see Gilly grabbing Pia by the hair and pushing her
down into a chair. Well, it wasn’t Gilly. It was Zeh-Gaba—her eyes,
runes, and fingernails all gleamed a bright blue.
“Pia has a request,” the goddess growled. “A very sexy request.”
Colt thought they should move out of the kitchen for what would
happen next, but he also knew that once they started, they weren’t
going to stop.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
this little warrior, at times rises to a great height, and indeed now and
then is scarcely discernible from the ground.
I found a nest of this Hawk in a hole of the well-known “Rock-in-
cave” on the Ohio River, in the early part of the spring of 1819. It was
simply constructed, having been formed of a few sticks and some
grasses carelessly interwoven, and placed about two feet from the
entrance of the hole. I had the good fortune to secure the female
bird, while she was sitting on her eggs, which were nearly hatched,
and it was from that individual that I made the figure in the plate. The
eggs, four in number, were almost equally rounded at both ends,
though somewhat elongated, and their ground colour was white, with
a livid tinge, scarcely discernible however amid the numerous
markings and blotches of reddish-chocolate with which they were
irregularly covered. The second opportunity which I had of seeing a
nest of this species occurred not far from Louisville in Kentucky,
when I accidentally observed one of these hawks dive into the hollow
prong of a broken branch of a sycamore overhanging the waters of
the Ohio. Here the eggs were five in number, and deposited on the
mouldering fragments of the decayed wood. The third and last
opportunity happened when I was on my way from Henderson to St
Genevieve on horseback. I saw a pair of these birds forming a nest
in the forks of a low oak, in a grove in the centre of the prairie which I
was then crossing. The young in the nest I have never seen.
This interesting species usually resorts to the fissures of rocks for
the purpose of there passing the hours of repose, and generally in
places by no means easy of access, such as precipitous declivities
overhanging some turbulent stream. It is often not until the darkness
has so much gained on the daylight as to render objects difficult to
be distinguished, that it betakes itself to its place of rest, and then I
have only been assured of its arrival by the few cries which it utters
on such occasions. The earliness of its departure has often much
puzzled me, for with all my anxiety to witness it, I have never
succeeded in doing so, although on two or three occasions I have
watched the spot more than half an hour before dawn, and remained
patiently waiting until long after the sun had risen, when I clambered
to the hole, and always found it empty.
The food of this Hawk consists chiefly of birds of various sizes, from
the smallest of our warblers to the Passenger Pigeon or young
chickens, the latter appearing to afford a special temptation to it, as
has been above related. I am also aware that it feeds occasionally
on small reptiles and insects, and I shot the male represented in the
plate, on wing, whilst it held in its claws the small Shrew also
represented. It is extremely expert at seizing some of our smaller
snakes and lizards, and not unfrequently snatches up a frog while
basking in the sun.
The difference of size observed between the males and females, as
well as between individuals of the same sex, is very remarkable; and
no doubt it was on account of this very great disparity that Wilson
described specimens of both sexes as two distinct species. Its notes
are short, shrill, and repeated in a hurried manner, when the bird is
wounded and brought to the ground. It often emits cries of this kind
while falling, but suddenly becomes silent when it comes to the
earth, and then makes off swiftly, with long and light leaps, keeping
silent until approached. Although a small bird, it possesses
considerable muscular power, and its extremely sharp claws are apt
to inflict severe pain, should a person lay hold of it incautiously.

Falco fuscus, and dubius, Gmel. and Lath.

Slate-coloured Hawk, Falco Pennsylvanicus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vi.
p. 13, pl. 46, fig. 1. Adult Male.
Sharp-shinned Hawk, Falco velox, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vi. p. 116, pl.
45, fig. 1. Young Female.
Falco velox, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 29.
Falco fuscus, Ch. Bonaparte, Ibid. Append. p. 433.
 Accipiter Pennsylvanicus, Slate-coloured Hawk, Richards. and Swains.
Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 44.
American Brown or Slate-coloured Hawk, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 87.

Adult Male. Plate CCCLXXIV. Fig. 1.

Bill short, with the dorsal line of the upper mandible curved from the
base, so as to form nearly the fourth of a circle, the sides sloping
rapidly and convex toward the end, the edges sharp anteriorly, with a
broad tooth-like process or prominent festoon about the middle, the
tip very acute and decurvate; the cere rather short, its margin
forming a convex curve before the nostrils, which are oblique,
oblongo-ovate, broader behind; the lower mandible with the angle
broad and short, the dorsal line convex, the back broad at the base,
the sides convex, the edges inflected, the tip obliquely truncate,
rounded, with a very faint sinus behind.
Head of moderate size, broad, rather flattened above; neck very
short; body very slender, remarkably attenuated behind. Legs long
and very slender; tarsus rather long, extremely slender, compressed,
anteriorly covered with fifteen scutella disposed in a longitudinal
plate, of which the inner sharp edge projects considerably, whence
the name of “Sharp-shinned” given to this species, the sides with
hexagonal scales, the hind part with numerous scutella. Toes
slender, the third and fourth connected at the base by a web,
extending beyond the second joint of the latter, and curving forward
as far as that of the former; first and second toes strongest and
about equal; third extremely elongated, fourth very slender;
tuberculate and papillate beneath, there being a long fleshy tubercle
on the last joint of each toe, and one on the next joint of the two
outer. Claws very long, arched, gradually attenuated to a fine point.
Plumage full, soft, blended, somewhat distinct on the upper parts.
Wings of moderate length, reaching beyond the middle of the tail; the
fourth quill longest, the fifth scarcely shorter, the third intermediate
between the fifth and seventh, the second a little longer than the
seventh, the first generally shorter than the outer secondary; the first
five quills cut out on the outer, the first four more deeply on the inner
edge. The tail is long, even, of twelve rather broad, rounded
feathers.
The bill is light blue at the base, bluish-black at the end; the cere and
eyelids yellowish-green; the iris bright reddish-orange; the tarsi and
toes yellow; the claws black, pale bluish at the base. The general
colour of the plumage on the upper parts is deep greyish-blue, or
dark slate-blue, the shafts darker; the feathers on the occiput are
white at the base, that colour appearing more or less as they are
raised; and on each of the scapulars are two large white patches,
which, however, are not seen until the feathers are raised. The outer
primaries are tinged with brown; all the quills are marked on the
inner web with dusky bands, between which the inner margins are
white toward the base. The tail has four broad bands of blackish-
brown, and is tipped with greyish-white. The cheeks are yellowish-
red, and the forehead is tinged with the same colour. The throat is
reddish-white; the lower parts are transversely and rather broadly
barred with light red and white, there being from three to five bars or
double spots of the latter colour on each feather, those on the sides
with the inner web entirely red; part of abdomen and lower tail-
coverts white; feathers of the legs barred like the breast; lower wing-
coverts yellowish-white, barred and spotted with dusky.
Length to end of tail 11 1/4 inches; to end of wings 8 3/4; to end of
claws 11 1/4; extent of wings 20 1/2; wing from flexure 6 10/12; tail
5 10/12; bill along the ridge 8/12, along the edge of lower mandible
8/ ;
12 tarsus 1 11/12; hind toe 5 3/4/12, its claw, 6/12; middle toe 1 2/12, its
claw 4 1/2/12. Weight 3 1/2 oz.
Adult Female. Plate CCCLXXIV. Fig. 2.
The female, which greatly exceeds the male in size is generally
greyish-brown tinged with blue on the upper parts, in very old
individuals bluish-grey or dark bluish-grey, more or less tinged with
brown. The bill, cere, iris, feet, and claws are as in the male, and the
markings on the plumage are similar on the upper parts; the lower
are generally of a lighter tint, but otherwise nearly the same.
Length to end of tail 14 inches; extent of wings 26; wing from flexure
8 2/12; tail 6 8/12; bill along the ridge 10/12; tarsus 2 1/12; hind toe
7 1/2/ , its claw 7
1/2
/12; middle toe 1 11/12, its claw 6/12. Weight of an
12

individual 7 1/2 oz., of another 8 1/4.

Young birds of either sex, when fully fledged, have the upper parts
generally hair-brown, on the back darker; the feathers on the head
and hind neck margined with light red; those of the rest of the upper
parts also terminally edged with brownish-red; the feathers of the
hind head and neck are white at the base, but to less extent, and the
scapulars are also spotted with the same. The lower parts are white
or yellowish-white, the throat longitudinally streaked, the rest banded
with dark brown, the feathers of the sides spotted, those of the legs
light reddish, obscurely marked with darker along the middle; the
lower tail-coverts white. The female has the markings on the lower
parts much narrower at this age.
A male bird preserved in spirits presents the following characters:—
The roof of the mouth is flat, with two longitudinal ridges; the
posterior aperture of the nares oblong, with a linear anterior slit,
papillate on the edges. The tongue is 5 twelfths long, narrow,
concave above, slightly emarginate. The œsophagus, a b c d e, is 3
inches 3 twelfths long; its diameter at the upper part 5 twelfths; it
enlarges on the neck to a capacious crop, c d, 1 inch in diameter.
The proventriculus, e, has a complete belt of small oblong glandules.
The stomach, f g, is large, roundish, membranous, without distinct
muscles, 1 inch 3 twelfths long, and 1 inch broad. The intestine, g h i
l, is 14 3/4 inches long, its greatest diameter 2 twelfths. The rectum, j
l, is 1 inch 9 twelfths long; its diameter at the anterior part 3 twelfths;
the cœca, j, are exceedingly small, forming two scarcely observable
sacs, about half a twelfth in depth. The trachea is 2 1/12 inches long,
its rings unossified, 78 in number; the bronchi long and slender, of
about 18 half rings. The contents of the crop and stomach were
portions of two small birds.
On comparing several specimens, male and female, of this Sharp-
shinned Hawk, with others of the European Sparrow Hawk, the
proportions are found to be similar, as are the colours of the upper
parts; but the American birds, especially the males, are much
smaller; and the transverse bands on the lower parts of the Sharp-
shinned Hawk are redder and broader than those of the Sparrow
Hawk. The number of dark bands on the tail is the same in both,
namely four on the middle feathers, and six on the lateral. The tail is
not always precisely even, being in both European and American
birds often slightly rounded, the lateral feather being sometimes a
quarter of an inch shorter than the longest.
A species most intimately allied to the Sharp-shinned Hawk presents
the same form and colours, but differs somewhat in its proportions,
and is much larger. The bill is much higher at the base, its upper
outline slopes from the commencement, and the festoon on its edge
is less prominent. The tarsi and toes are proportionally stronger, the
edge on the former not nearly so prominent. The first quill is a little
longer than the first secondary, the fifth quill (not the fourth) is
longest; and the tail is rounded, the lateral feather in a female being
eight-twelfths of an inch shorter than the longest. The dimensions of
a female of this species, shot by myself in South Carolina, are as
follows:—
Length to end of tail 16 1/2 inches; wing from flexure 10; tail 7 10/12;
bill along the ridge 1; tarsus 2 7/12; hind toe 10/12, its claw 1; middle
toe 1 8/12, its claw 7 1/2/12.
It is very probable that this is the Accipiter Mexicanus of Mr
Swainson, whose brief account of a female of that species, in the
Fauna Boreali-Americana, agrees sufficiently with it. There are,
however, some errors in his critical observations, at p. 44. Thus, he
states that Wilson’s figure of the Slate-coloured Hawk, Accipiter
Pennsylvanicus, is perfectly characteristic, in having the tail quite
even at the end; but that Temminck’s Autour a bec sinueux is
doubtful, the tail being represented as distinctly rounded. Now, in
fact, the tail of our Sharp-shinned Hawk is when perfect a little
rounded, but often when worn quite even or square. Both the figures
in Plate CCCLXXIV represent it as a little rounded, and such it is in
five specimens out of eight, four of these being females, and one a
male; while the three specimens in which the tail may be said to be
quite even are males. Again, he states that “the anterior scales on
the tarsus of A. Pennsylvanicus are entire, being apparently formed
externally of one entire piece; whereas in Mexicanus, the transverse
divisions are distinctly visible.” The latter part of the sentence is
certainly correct, in so far as may be judged from a single very fine
specimen; but the scales are equally distinct in all the younger
individuals of the A. Pennsylvanicus, although in one, an old male,
the distinctions between the greater number are obliterated, so that
they resemble a single plate. There is nothing very remarkable in
this, however, for the like happens to other Hawks; it having been
long ago remarked with regard to the Sparrow Hawk of Europe,
Accipiter Nisus, that “in some individuals, the anterior oblique
scutella, as well as the hexagonal scales of the sides, are so
indistinct, that all traces of them disappear when the parts become
dry.”
Accipiter Nisus, A. velox, and A. Mexicanus, which are most closely
allied, insomuch that it is extremely difficult to distinguish them from
each other, may be characterized as follows:—
A. Mexicanus is largest; has the fifth quill longest, the first primary
much longer than the last, the tail distinctly rounded, the tarsi stouter,
and with fifteen scales; the upper parts deep slate-blue; the lower
banded with light red and white.
A. velox is smallest, has the fourth quill longest, the first primary
much shorter than the last, the tail even, the tarsi extremely slender,
with fifteen scales; the colours exactly as in Mexicanus.
A. Nisus is intermediate in size, never so small as velox, but
sometimes as large as Mexicanus, with the fourth quill longest, the
first and last primary about equal, the tail very slightly rounded or
even, the tarsi very slender, with eighteen scales, the upper parts
deep slate-blue, the lower narrowly banded with light red in the male,
and dusky in the female.
This species was described by Wilson under the name of Sharp-
shinned Hawk, Falco velox, and figured in Pl. XLV, a young female
only being represented, although a description is given of a young
male also. He afterwards figured an adult male (Pl. XLVI), and
described it under the name of Slate-coloured Hawk, Falco
Pennsylvanicus, considering it as a distinct species. It appears,
however, that it had previously been described under several names.
Thus Falco fuscus of Miller and Gmelin, and the American Brown
Hawk of Latham, seem to be the same bird in the young state. Falco
dubius of Gmelin and Latham, the Dubious Falcon of the latter and
of Pennant are also synonymous. The Dusky Falcon of Pennant
and Latham, Falco obscurus of the latter and of Gmelin, may also
belong to the same species. If we consider priority of name as of
paramount importance, then, in so far as can be shewn, the species
ought to be named the “American Brown Hawk, Falco fuscus;” or,
according to the newer nomenclature, Astur or Accipiter fuscus. The
names of “Sharp-shinned,” “Slate-coloured,” and “velox” are not
more distinctive; and Pennsylvanicus is out of the question, having
been applied to another species.
 LESSER REDPOLL.

Fringilla Linaria, Linn.

PLATE CCCLXXV. Male and Female.

When I was in Labrador, my young companions and my son one day

(the 27th of July 1833) procured eight individuals of this species, of
different sexes and ages. Next morning I went to the place where
they had been shot, and found a good number remaining. The first
observation I made had reference to their notes, which, instead of
resembling those of the Goldfinch, as alleged by an American writer,
are very similar to those of the Siskin, and are frequently uttered
both when the birds are alighted and while they are on wing. They
were in small parties of seven or eight, apparently formed by the
members of the same family, and although several of these groups
were around me, they did not intermingle until fired at, when they all
simultaneously rose on wing, mixed together, and after performing
several short evolutions returned to the same bushes, separated into
families, and resumed their occupations. When alighted they were
quite unsuspecting, and so heedless as to allow a close approach,
scarcely regarding my presence, but clinging to the branches,
dexterously picking out the seeds of the alder-cones, and
occasionally coming to the ground after some which had dropped.
Few birds exhibit a more affectionate disposition than the Little
Redpoll, and it was pleasing to see several on a twig feeding each
other by passing a seed from bill to bill, one individual sometimes
receiving food from his two neighbours at the same time.
Occasionally, however, they shewed considerable pugnacity, and
one would drive off its companion, inflicting some smart blows upon
it with its bill, and uttering a low querulous chatter.
In other portions of the same country, I saw flocks composed of
twenty or more individuals flying loosely at a moderate height, in the
undulatory manner of the American Goldfinch and Siskin, without,
however, making the deep sweeps of the former; suddenly alighting,
and at once beginning to search with great expertness between the
stems and leaves, picking at the embryo buds while perched over
them, like Jays and Titmice.
So hardy is this species, that, according to Dr Richardson, it is a
“permanent resident in the Fur Countries, where it may be seen in
the coldest weather, on the banks of lakes and rivers, hopping
among the reeds and carices, or clinging to their stalks. Although
numerous throughout the year, even in the most northern districts, a
partial migration takes place, as large flocks visit Pennsylvania for a
month or two in severe winters.” The migrations alluded to are of
rare occurrence in that State, however, as well as in that of New
York. I never saw one of these birds to the westward of the
Alleghanies, and none were observed by Dr Townsend or Mr
Nuttall on the Columbia River. They are abundant every cold
winter in the northern parts of Massachusetts and Maine, as well as
in all the British Provinces.
The food of this species consists of buds, seeds of various grasses,
berries, and the small leaves of bushes and trees. I have
represented a male and a female on a plant which grows abundantly
in the localities in which I found it in Labrador.
The many young birds which I examined in the month of August, had
the head entirely grey. The feathers of that part, and those on the
breast and rump, were of the same colour nearly to the base, which
is bluish-grey; and I suspect that they do not acquire any redness
until the approach of spring. The old birds were moulting at the
period mentioned, and from their appearance I concluded that all
their red feathers are reassumed each spring. The eggs, from four to
six in number, measure five-eighths in length, rather more than half
an inch in diameter, and are pale bluish-green sparingly dotted with
reddish-brown toward the larger end.

Fringilla linaria, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 322.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p.
458.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis. p. 112.
Lesser Redpoll, Fringilla linaria, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 42, pl. 30,
fig. 4. Male.
Linaria minor, Lesser Redpoll, Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 267.
Lesser Redpoll, Nuttall, Manual, vol. i. 512.

Adult Male in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 1.

Bill short, strong, conical, compressed toward the end, extremely
acute; upper mandible with the dorsal line straight, the ridge narrow,
the sides convex, the edges sharp and overlapping, without notch,
the tip acuminate; lower mandible with the angle short and
semicircular, the dorsal line straight, the ridge broadish at the base,
the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip acute.
Nostrils basal, roundish, covered by stiffish reversed feathers.
Head of moderate size, roundish; neck short; body moderate, Feet of
moderate length, slender; tarsus compressed, anteriorly covered
with a few scutella of which the upper are blended, posteriorly with
two longitudinal plates meeting at a very acute angle; toes slender,
the first with its claw as long as the third with its claw; the lateral toes
equal. Claws large, moderately arched, much compressed, acute.
Plumage soft, rather blended, with very little gloss, unless on the red
parts. Wings of ordinary length, the first three quills almost equal, but
the second longest. Tail rather long, forked.
Bill yellowish, the upper mandible dusky on the ridge; iris brown; feet
blackish brown. A band edging the forehead, the loral space, and the
throat, brownish-black; the reversed feathers on the base of the bill
yellowish; the crown of the head crimson; the hind part of the head,
the neck, the fore part of the back, and the scapulars yellowish-
brown, longitudinally streaked with blackish-brown, the feathers on
the hind part of the back margined with whitish, and tipped with
carmine; the wings and tail dusky, with yellowish-brown edges, and
two transverse bands of the same on the tips of the first row of small
coverts and the secondary coverts. The sides of the neck, its fore
part, the breast, and flanks, rich carmine; the middle of the breast,
the abdomen, and the lower tail-coverts white, tinged with rose
colour; the sides longitudinally streaked with dusky.
Length to end of tail 5; to end of wings 4; extent of wings 8 3/4; wing
from flexure 3 2/12; tail 2 1/2; bill along the ridge 4 1/2 twelfths, along
1/2
the edge of lower mandible 5 1/2 twelfths; tarsus 7/12; first toe 2 /12,
its claw, 4 1/2/12; middle toe 4 1/2/12, its claw 3/12.

Adult Female in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 2.

The female, which is somewhat less, has the black of the forehead
and throat more brown, with less red on the head, and little or none
on the rump, or on the lower parts, which are white, the breast and
flanks longitudinally streaked with dusky.
 TRUMPETER SWAN.

Cygnus Buccinator, Richardson.

PLATE CCCLXXVI. Young in Winter.

The history of the American Swans has been but very slightly traced.
Few records of the habits of these majestic, elegant, and useful birds
exist, on which much reliance can be placed; their geographical
range still remains an unsolved problem; one species has been
mistaken for another, and this by ornithologists who are said to be of
the first order. The Cygnus Bewickii of Great Britain has been given
as a North American Swan in place of Cygnus Americanus (well
described by Dr Sharpless of Philadelphia) in the Fauna Boreali-
Americana; and the latter bird has been taken for the Whistling
Swan, C. musicus of Bechstein, by the Prince of Musignano, who
says in his Synopsis, p. 379, No. 321, that it is “very numerous in
winter in Chesapeake Bay.” It is possible that we may have more
than two species of Swan within the limits of North America, but I am
at present acquainted with only that which forms the subject of this
article, and the Cygnus Americanus of Sharpless.
In a note contained in the Journals of Lewis and Clark, written in
the course of the expedition of these daring travellers across the
Rocky Mountains, it is stated that “the Swans are of two kinds, the
large and small. The large Swan is the same with the one common
in the Atlantic States. The small differs from the large only in size
and note; it is about one-fourth less, and its note is entirely different.
These birds were first found below the great narrows of the
Columbia, near the Chilluckittequaw nation. They are very abundant
in this neighbourhood, and remained with the party all winter, and in
number they exceed those of the larger species in the proportion of
five to one.” These observations are partly correct and partly
erroneous. In fact, the smaller species of the two, which is the C.
Americanus of Sharpless, is the only one abundant in the middle
districts of our Atlantic coast, while the larger Swan, the subject of
this article, is rarely if ever seen to the eastward of the mouths of the
Mississippi. A perfect specimen of the small Swan mentioned by
Lewis and Clark has been transmitted to me from the Columbia
River by Dr Townsend, and I find it to correspond in every respect
with the C. Americanus of Sharpless. Dr Townsend corroborates
the observations of the two eminent travellers by stating, that the
latter species is much more numerous than the large C. Buccinator.
The Trumpeter Swans make their appearance on the lower portions
of the waters of the Ohio about the end of October. They throw
themselves at once into the larger ponds or lakes at no great
distance from the river, giving a marked preference to those which
are closely surrounded by dense and tall cane-brakes, and there
remain until the water is closed by ice, when they are forced to
proceed southward. During mild winters I have seen Swans of this
species in the ponds about Henderson until the beginning of March,
but only a few individuals, which may have staid there to recover
from their wounds. When the cold became intense, most of those
which visited the Ohio would remove to the Mississippi, and proceed
down that stream as the severity of the weather increased, or return
if it diminished; for it has appeared to me, that neither very intense
cold nor great heat suit them so well as a medium temperature. I
have traced the winter migrations of this species as far southward as
the Texas, where it is abundant at times, and where I saw a pair of
young ones in captivity, and quite domesticated, that had been
procured in the winter of 1836. They were about two years old, and
pure white, although of much smaller size than even the younger
one represented in the plate before you, having perhaps been
stinted in food, or having suffered from their wounds, as both had
been shot. The sound of their well-known notes reminded me of the
days of my youth, when I was half-yearly in the company of birds of
this species.
At New Orleans, where I made the drawing of the young bird here
given, the Trumpeters are frequently exposed for sale in the markets,
being procured on the ponds of the interior, and on the great lakes
leading to the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. This species is unknown
to my friend, the Rev. John Bachman, who, during a residence of
twenty years in South Carolina, never saw or heard of one there;
whereas in hard winters the Cygnus Americanus is not uncommon,
although it does not often proceed further southward than that State.
The waters of the Arkansas and its tributaries are annually supplied
with Trumpeter Swans, and the largest individual which I have
examined was shot on a lake near the junction of that river with the
Mississippi. It measured nearly ten feet in alar extent, and weighed
above thirty-eight pounds. The quills, which I used in drawing the
feet and claws of many small birds, were so hard, and yet so elastic,
that the best steel-pen of the present day might have blushed, if it
could, to be compared with them.
Whilst encamped in the Tawapatee Bottom, when on a fur-trading
voyage, our keel-boat was hauled close under the eastern shore of
the Mississippi, and our valuables, for I then had a partner in trade,
were all disembarked. The party consisted of twelve or fourteen
French Canadians, all of whom were pretty good hunters; and as
game was in those days extremely abundant, the supply of Deer,
Bear, Racoons, and Opossums, far exceeded our demands. Wild
Turkeys, Grous, and Pigeons, might have been seen hanging all
around; and the ice-bound lakes afforded an ample supply of
excellent fish, which was procured by striking a strong blow with an
axe on the ice immediately above the confined animal, and
afterwards extricating it by cutting a hole with the same instrument.
The great stream was itself so firmly frozen that we were daily in the
habit of crossing it from shore to shore. No sooner did the gloom of
night become discernible through the grey twilight, than the loud-
sounding notes of hundreds of Trumpeters would burst on the ear;
and as I gazed over the ice-bound river, flocks after flocks would be
seen coming from afar and in various directions, and alighting about
the middle of the stream opposite to our encampment. After pluming
themselves awhile they would quietly drop their bodies on the ice,
and through the dim light I yet could observe the graceful curve of
their necks, as they gently turned them backwards, to allow their
heads to repose upon the softest and warmest of pillows. Just a dot
of black as it were could be observed on the snowy mass, and that
dot was about half an inch of the base of the upper mandible, thus
exposed, as I think, to enable the bird to breathe with ease. Not a
single individual could I ever observe among them to act as a
sentinel, and I have since doubted whether their acute sense of
hearing was not sufficient to enable them to detect the approach of
their enemies. The day quite closed by darkness, no more could be
seen until the next dawn; but as often as the howlings of the
numerous wolves that prowled through the surrounding woods were
heard, the clanging cries of the Swans would fill the air. If the
morning proved fair, the whole flocks would rise on their feet, trim
their plumage, and as they started with wings extended, as if, racing
in rivalry, the pattering of their feet would come on the ear like the
noise of great muffled drums, accompanied by the loud and clear
sounds of their voice. On running fifty yards or so to windward, they
would all be on wing. If the weather was thick, drizzly, and cold, or if
there were indications of a fall of snow, they would remain on the ice,
walking, standing, or lying down, until symptoms of better weather
became apparent, when they would all start off. One morning of this
latter kind, our men formed a plot against the Swans, and having
separated into two parties, one above, the other below them on the
ice, they walked slowly, on a signal being given from the camp,
toward the unsuspecting birds. Until the boatmen had arrived within
a hundred and fifty yards of them, the Swans remained as they were,
having become, as it would appear, acquainted with us, in
consequence of our frequently crossing the ice; but then they all rose
on their feet, stretched their necks, shook their heads, and
manifested strong symptoms of apprehension. The gunners
meanwhile advanced, and one of the guns going off by accident, the
Swans were thrown into confusion, and scampering off in various
directions took to wing, some flying up, some down the stream,
others making directly toward the shores. The muskets now blazed,
and about a dozen were felled, some crippled, others quite dead.
That evening they alighted about a mile above the camp, and we
never went after them again. I have been at the killing of several of
these Swans, and I can assure you that unless you have a good gun
well loaded with large buck-shot, you may shoot at them without
much effect, for they are strong and tough birds.
To form a perfect conception of the beauty and elegance of these
Swans, you must observe them when they are not aware of your
proximity, and as they glide over the waters of some secluded inland
pond. On such occasions, the neck, which at other times is held
stiffly upright, moves in graceful curves, now bent forward, now
inclined backwards over the body. Now with an extended scooping
movement the head becomes immersed for a moment, and with a
sudden effort a flood of water is thrown over the back and wings,
when it is seen rolling off in sparkling globules, like so many large
pearls. The bird then shakes its wings, beats the water, and as if
giddy with delight shoots away, gliding over and beneath the surface
of the liquid element with surprising agility and grace. Imagine,
Reader, that a flock of fifty Swans are thus sporting before you, as
they have more than once been in my sight, and you will feel, as I
have felt, more happy and void of care than I can describe.
When swimming unmolested the Swan shews the body buoyed up;
but when apprehensive of danger, it sinks considerably lower. If
resting and basking in the sunshine, it draws one foot expanded
curiously towards the back, and in that posture remains often for half
an hour at a time. When making off swiftly, the tarsal joint, or knee as
it is called, is seen about an inch above the water, which now in
wavelets passes over the lower part of the neck and along the sides
of the body, as it undulates on the planks of a vessel gliding with a
gentle breeze. Unless during the courting season, or while passing
by its mate, I never saw a swan with the wings raised and expanded,
as it is alleged they do, to profit by the breeze that may blow to assist
their progress; and yet I have pursued some in canoes to a
considerable distance, and that without overtaking them, or even
obliging them to take to wing. You, Reader, as well as all the world,
have seen Swans labouring away on foot, and therefore I will not
trouble you with a description of their mode of walking, especially as
it is not much to be admired.
The flight of the Trumpeter Swan is firm, at times greatly elevated
and sustained. It passes through the air by regular beats, in the
same manner as Geese, the neck stretched to its full length, as are
the feet, which project beyond the tail. When passing low, I have
frequently thought that I heard a rustling sound from the motion of
the feathers of their wings. If bound to a distant place, they form
themselves in angular lines, and probably the leader of the flock is
one of the oldest of the males; but of this I am not at all sure, as I
have seen at the head of a line a grey bird, which must have been a
young one of that year.
This Swan feeds principally by partially immersing the body and
extending the neck under water, in the manner of fresh-water Ducks
and some species of Geese, when the feet are often seen working in
the air, as if to aid in preserving the balance. Often however it resorts
to the land, and then picks at the herbage, not sidewise, as Geese
do, but more in the manner of Ducks and poultry. Its food consists of
roots of different vegetables, leaves, seeds, various aquatic insects,
land snails, small reptiles and quadrupeds. The flesh of a cygnet is
pretty good eating, but that of an old bird is dry and tough.
I kept a male alive upwards of two years, while I was residing at
Henderson in Kentucky. It had been slightly wounded in the tip of the
wing, and was caught after a long pursuit in a pond from which it
could not escape. Its size, weight, and strength rendered the task of
carrying it nearly two miles by no means easy; but as I knew that it
would please my wife and my then very young children, I
persevered. Cutting off the tip of the wounded wing, I turned it loose
in the garden. Although at first extremely shy, it gradually became
accustomed to the servants, who fed it abundantly, and at length
proved so gentle as to come to my wife’s call, to receive bread from
her hand. “Trumpeter,” us we named our bird, in accordance with the
general practice of those who were in the habit of shooting this
species, now assumed a character which until then had been
unexpected, and laying aside his timidity became so bold at times as
to give chase to my favourite Wild Turkey Cock, my dogs, children,
and servants. Whenever the gates of our yard happened to be
opened, he would at once make for the Ohio, and it was not without
difficulty that he was driven home again. On one occasion, he was
absent a whole night, and I thought he had fairly left us; but
intimation came of his having travelled to a pond not far distant.
Accompanied by my miller and six or seven of my servants, I betook
myself to the pond, and there saw our Swan swimming buoyantly
about as if in defiance of us all. It was not without a great deal of
trouble that we at length succeeded in driving it ashore. Pet birds,
good Reader, no matter of what species they are, seldom pass their
lives in accordance with the wishes of their possessors; in the course