Published in the Lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, October 16, 1903
Son of Mrs. A. W. Schwane Kills Bird with Shotgun.
    After an attempt to beat off a bald eagle with an umbrella, Mrs. A. W. Schwane of 2544 Forty-first avenue, Chicago, fainted away and was rescued by her 15-year-old son, who killed the bird with a single discharge from a double-barreled shotgun. Mrs. Schwane was returning home and was within a block of her home when she noticed an unusually large bird flying above her. She realized at once that it was an eagle, and that she was in danger, for the bird was only a little higher than the houses. She hastened her steps, and as the eagle swung nearer and nearer to her in ever narrowing circles the frightened woman started to run. Her only means of defence was the umbrella which she was carrying, and this she put up in hope that it would frighten the bird away or in some way keep him away her until she could reach home. Whether it was the umbrella or not which protected her, Mrs. Schwane did reach home and fell fainting across her own doorway before she was actually attacked. Anthony W. Schwane was at home and saw the huge bird sweep by the end of the porch. Without a minute’s hesitation Anthony rushed to the closet where his father’s double-barreled goose gun is kept and ran out into the yard. When the eagle came past the house on its next circle the boy took aim and fired. The bird fell just outside the yard in the street. The bird measured six feet six inches.
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, August 3, 1878
The many rumors of the death of this bird are contradicted this week by the Wisconsin State Journal. It says; ‘It has not surprised us, that the Democrat of this city should endeavor to create the impression that the eagle “Old Abe,” the veteran of the 8th Wisconsin Regiment, was dead! This has been a smart think of that paper for several years. Many Democrats hate that bird as badly as they hated a Union soldier through the war; and it was understood that ‘Old Abe” was not to survive the Taylor Administration. He was put on hard fare, but he had seen much service during the war; had been illy treated by the rebels in the South, and withstood the tortures of Union sympathizers. He was as tough as Grant, and still lives. We are surprised that so respectable a paper as the Oshkosh Northwestern should take stock in the drizzle of the Democrat on the subjet of “Old Abe.”
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Friday, May 20, 1898
The Patriotic Bird that Saw Hard Service During the Civil War.
    It is unlikely that there will be any mascot during the war with Spain who will gain a popularity as great as that enjoyed by “Old Abe,” the war eagle, says a Chicago paper. No more famous bird ever lived. Everybody has heard of him. Poems and songs were written in his honor. Old Abe was bought for a bushel of corn. Afterward Barnum offered $20,000 for him; but, of course, the offer was refused. His captor was an Indian who found him in 1861 on the Flambeau River, near the line between Ashland and Price counties in Wisconsin. The bird was young then, and the Indian sold him to Daniel McCann, of Eagle Point, for a bushel of corn.
    The bird’s military experience began a few months later. He was given to a military company which had just been organized by Capt. John E. Perkins for the Eighth Regiment. The eagle was sworn in by putting around his neck red, white and blue ribbons, and on his breast a rosette of the same colors. James McGinnis was made his attendant. The name of Old Abe was given to the eagle at Madison in honor of President Lincoln. The bird’s fame spread quickly and even before they went to the front the men of Company C were known as Eau Claire eagles, and the Eighth Regiment, of which it was a part, was called the eagles in honor of Old Abe. Old Abe was with the regiment from the time it was mustered in, and he never left it. Quartermaster Billings made him a perch in the shape of a heart, patriotically and properly adorned, and there he stood at the head of his regiment. No general attracted so much attention on the way south as did Old Abe. He occupied a conspicuous place with the colors, for Company C was the color company, and the color bearer and the bearer of Old Abe marched side by side.
    During the war Old Abe did gallant service. It was his nature to be greatly excited in the midst of turmoil, and to be calm when it was over. He always announced the approach of the enemy bya note of alarm, and during the battle would hover in the air, watching the outcome of the contest. He became as famous among the Confederates as among the Union army. The men made him a rallying cry and the sight of the bird would give them new courage for battle. So well was this understood that at the siege of Corinth the rebel general Price ordered his men to seize or capture the bird, and he declared that he would rather capture Old Abe than a whole brigade. But although wounded at the battle of Corinth and afterward before Vicksburg, as well as en route from Memphis to Helena, he survived the war.
    Old Abe came home in 1864 with his company on a furlough. After his return to his native place, which is now known as Price County, it was resolved that he should be presented to his native State, and on Sept. 26 the company made the gift. To-day the eagle, stuffed, stands in the War Museum at Washington.
Published in the lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, December 25, 1908
Washington Man Wins Desperate Encounter With Big Bird of Ill Omen in a Chicken Coop.
    Numerous raids have been made recently on people’s chicken houses in the vicinity of Mayers Falls, Wash., by hoboes, who have always succeeded in escaping unpunished with their booty. H. C. Buchanan, an old gentleman sixty-five years old, who lives in the outskirts of the town, was awakened by a wild commotion in his henhouse. Having no firearms handy, he armed himself with a club and rushed to the rescue of his chickens, expecting to find a hobo in the act of climbing the fence with half a dozen spring pullets, but to his surprise he found the intruder to be a gigantic owl of the horned variety. He had caught and killed a large Plymouth Rock hen and was hastily making a meal of her when interrupted by a broadside from Buchanan.
    Instead of flying away the bird of ill omen merely jumped aside and stood looking at his assailant. As the old man made ready for another onslaught his feet slipped and he fell flat upon his back. The owl with several snaps of his monster beak and trembling with anxiety to begin the second round lit on his adversary’s chest, all spread out and ready for business. For a time Mr. Buchanan thought he had met his Waterloo and called vociferously for his next door neighbor, who failed to respond. With a few right and left swings from Buchanan the bird of prey was finally stunned, and the victor, once more seizing his cudgel, dispatched him.
    Mr. Buchanan has had his late antagonist stuffed and is ready to exhibit him to any one who doubts the truth of his story.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, December 28, 1901
    Findlay, O., Dec. 28.-Thirteen thousand sparrows, weighing nearly two tons, were killed during the six weeks contest which ended yesterday. The winning side, twenty-five men in number, captained by Lew Brickman killed nearly two-thirds of the birds and was given a banquet last night at McComb by the losing side, captained by Isaac Culp.
Published in the Lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, February 8, 1895
“I saw an eagle killed last summer in rather a strange way,” said Fred J. Hancock, of Harrisburg. One afternoon while out hunting, I noticed an immense eagle flying directly overhead bearing in its talons a burden that apparently worried it. I noticed that the bird began to show signs of weakness, but was somewhat surprised when a moment or two later the bird began descending rapidly, and soon fell to the ground. Hastening to the spot, I found the eagle dying, yet firmly grasping in its powerful talons a large-sized ferret as its prey. The animal was fighting frantically for its freedom and had killed its captor. The eagle had evidently greatly mistook its game. The ferret was held in such a manner as to inflict no vital injury. Its head being entirely at liberty it had torn and lacerated its captor in a terrible manner, and at last killed it.-St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
Published in the lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, May 24, 1907
    At Libertyville Monday morning, a combat to the death was witnessed between two golden shafter flickers. The birds, both males, attacked each other in mid-air and fell to the middle of the street fighting furiously.
    There they continued their combat quite unmindful of teams or pedestrins until one of them received a blow to the head from the other’s beak which stretched him insensible. The victorious bird then struck the slain rival for some feathered sweetheart’s affection, repeatly in the head until life was extinct.
    With a shrill victorious cry he then flew away towards the woods. The golden shafter flicker is commonly called a “high hole” by country boys who designate the bird thus from the fact that he usually nests in a hole high up in some dead tree.
Published in the Waukegan Daily Sun, Waukegan, Illinois on Friday, August 13, 1897
    A woman in Minneapolis tells a curious story of bird life which shows a phase of sociability in a wild bird’s make-up. She has always fed the birds in winter weather, and never allowed them disturbed on her premises. She had a fine canary, which, in pleasant weather, always had a window from which it hung. One day hearing strange bird voices she looked up from her seat and saw a catbird trying to induce the canary to eat a worm it had brought for it. By dint of coaxing and feeding the wild bird she finally induced it to come often to the window, and one day, while sitting on the porch, the catbird brought a berry for her and tried to put it in her mouth.
Published in the Waukegan Gazette, Waukegan, Illinois on Saturday, September 16, 1882
    The following story is another example of the truth that is stranger than fiction.
    During a voyage made by the bark Gladstone London to Sydney, in Australia, on the 22d of October, while the vessel was in latitude forty-two degrees south, and longitude ninety degrees east, a seaman fell overboard from the starboard gangway. The bark was scudding along with a rough sea and moderate wind, but on the alarm of “Man overboard” being given, she was rounded to, and the starboard life-boat was lowered, manned by the chief officer and four men. A search for the unfortunate man was made, but owing to the sea he could not be discovered, but the boat steered to the spot where he was last seen. Here they found him floating, but exhaused, clinging for bare life to the legs of a huge albatross.
    The bird had swopped down on the man while the latter was struggling with the waves, and attempted to peck him with his powerful beak. Twice the bird attacked his prey unsuccessfully, being beaten off by the desperate sailor battling with two enemies-the water and the albatross-both greedy and insatiable. For the third time the huge white form of the bird hovored over the seaman preparatory to a final swoop. The bird, eager for its meal, fanned its victim with its wide-spread wings. Suddenly it occurred to him that the huge form so close to his face might become his involuntary rescuer. Quick as thought he reached up and seized the bird, which he proceeded to strangle with all his might. The huge creature struggled with wings and paddles to free itself.
    In the contest the sailor was beaten black and blue, and cruelly lacerated, but he held his own, and slowly the bird quivered and died. The carcas floated lightly on the waves, its feathers forming a support for the exhausted man, who had so narrowly escaped a lingering death.
    But another danger awaited him. He was not much of a swimmer, and the excitement of the extraordinary conflict began to tell upon him. He was faint and grew giddy. But with one arm around the albatross’s body under the wings, and a hand clutching the bird’s feet, the sailor awaited his chance of rescue. Presently he heard his comrades shout from the boat; and in a few minutes more was safe on board the bark, though a good deal shaken and exhausted.-Harper’s Young People.
Published in the Lake County Independent, Libertyville, Illinois on Friday, October 18, 1912
    Red Oak, Ill., Oct.-More than fifty blackbirds that had taken refuge in a poplar tree were killed when a bolt of lightning struck the tree.