THE SOLDIER BIRD.–

13. February 2009 by admin.

One day in the spring of 1861, Chief Sky, a Chippewa Indian, living in the northern wilds of Wisconsin, captured an eagle’s nest. To make sure of his prize he cut the tree down, and caught the eaglets as they were sliding from the nest to run and hide in the grass. One died. He took the other home, and built it a nest in a tree close by his wigwam. The eaglet was as big as a hen, covered with soft brown down. the red children were delighted with their new pet; and as soon as it got acquainted, it liked to sit down in the grass and see them play with the dogs. But Chief Sky was poor, and he had to sell it to a white man for a bushel of corn. The white man brought it to Eau Claire, a little village alive with white men going to the war. “Here’s a recruit,” said the man. “An eagle, an eagle!” shouted the soldiers, “let him enlist;” and sure enough, he was sworn into the service with ribbons round his neck, red, white, and blue.

On a perch surmounted by stars and stripes, the company took him to Madison, the capital of the state. As they marched into camp Randall, with colors flying, drums beating, and the people cheering, the eagle seized the flag in his beak and spread his wings, his bright eye kindling with the spirit of the scene. Shouts rent the air; “The bird of Columbia! the eagle of freedom forever!” The state made him a new perch, the boys named him “Old Abe,” and the regiment, the Eighth Wisconsin, was henceforth called “the Eagle regiment.” On the march it was carried at the head of the company, and everywhere was greeted with delight. At St. Louis, a gentleman offered five hundred dollars for it, and another his farm. No, no, the boys had no notion of parting with their bird. It was above all price,–an emblem of battle and of victory. Besides it interested their minds, and made them think less of hardships and of home.

I cannot tell you all the droll adventures of the bird through its three years of service, its flights in the air, its fights with the guinea hens, and its race with the darkies. When the regiment was in summer quarters at Clear Creek in Dixie, it was allowed to run at large, and every morning went to the river half a mile off, where it splashed and played in the water to its heart’s content, faithfully returning to camp when it had enough. Old Abe’s favorite place of resort was the sutler’s tent, where a live chicken found no quarter in his presence. But rations got low, and for two days Abe had nothing to eat. Hard-tack he objected to, fasting was disagreeable, and Tom, his bearer, could not get beyond the pickets in a farmyard. At last, pushing his way to the colonel’s tent, he pleaded for poor Abe. The colonel gave him a pass, and Tom got him an excellent dinner.

One day a rebel farmer asked Tom to come and show the eagle to his children. Satisfying the curiosity of the family, Tom sat him down in the barnyard. Oh what a screeching and scattering among the fowls; for what should Abe do but pounce upon one and gobble up another, to the great disgust of the farmer, who declared that was not in the bargain. Abe, however, thought there was no harm in confiscating, nor did Tom.

Abe was in twenty battles, besides many skirmishes. He was at the seige of Vicksburg, the storming of Corinth, and marched with Sherman up the Red river. The whiz of bullets and the scream of shells were his delight. As the battle grew hot and hotter, he would flap his wings and mingle his wildest notes with the noise around him. He was very fond of music, especially Yankee Doodle and Old John Brown. Upon parade he always gave heed to “Attention.” With his eye on the commander, he would listen and obey orders, noting time accurately. After parade he would put off his soldierly air, flap his wings, and make himself at home. The rebels called him “Yankee Buzzard,” “Old Owl,” and other hard names; but his eagle nature was quite above noticing it.

The rebel General Price gave orders to his men to be sure and capture the eagle of the Eighth Wisconsin; he would rather have it than a dozen battle flags. But for all that he scarcely lost a feather; only one from his right wing. His tail-feathers were once cropped by a bullet.

At last the great rebellion came to an end, and the brave Wisconsin Eighth, with their live eagle and torn and riddled flags, were welcomed back to Madison. They went out a thousand strong, and returned a little band, scarred and toil-worn, having fought and won.

And what of the soldier bird? In the name of his gallant veterans, Capt. Wolf presented him to the state. Governor Lewis accepted the illustrious gift, and ample quarters are provided for him in the beautiful State-house grounds, where may he long live to tell us

“What heroes from the woodland sprang,
When through the fresh awakened land
The thrilling cry of freedom rang.”

Nor is the end yet. At the great fair in Chicago an enterprising gentleman, invited “Abe” to attend. He had colored photographs of the old hero struck off, and sold $16,700 worth for the benefit of poor and sick soldiers. Has not the American eagle done its part?

Posted in Recent Entries | Print | No Comments »