When writing about the Baltimore oriole, John James Audubon gives a haunting description of the appearance of the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers during the fall months.
“The current becomes rapid, and ere long several of the windings of the great stream have been met and passed, and with these new scenes present themselves to the view. The forest at this place, as if in doleful mourning at the sight of the havoc made on its margin by the impetuous and regardless waters, has thrown over her a ragged veil, produced by the long dangling masses that spread from branch to branch over the cypress trees. The dejected Indian’s camp lies in your sight. He casts a melancholy glance over the scene, and remembers that he is no longer the peaceful and sole possessor of the land. Islands, one after another, come in sight, and at every winding of the stream you see boats propelled by steam ascending the river, and others, without such aid, silently gliding with the current.”
Mixed in with the mighty waters of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers and the plight of Native Americans being overrun by American settlers in the early 1800s was the Baltimore oriole. Audubon was especially impressed with how mating pairs not only work together to build their pendulous nests but also keep in mind the elements. In the deep south, the nest is located on the northeast side of trees to avoid the afternoon sun and made almost entirely out of Spanish moss (Tillandsia usneoides) to increase air circulation. Whereas farther to the north, Baltimore orioles position their nests closer to southwest side of trees to capture the afternoon sun and use materials for their nests that provide insulation against any sudden drops in temperature. As far as John James Audubon could ever tell with Baltimore orioles placing and constructing their nests, “their love increases daily as they see the graceful fabric approaching perfection, until their conjugal affection and faith become as complete as in any species of birds with which I am acquainted.””