John James Audubon, the famed namesake of Audubon Zoo and Audubon Park, is synonymous with the breathtaking artistry of American wildlife. His masterpiece The Birds of America, secured his place as the nation’s greatest natural history artist.
Yet behind his enduring legacy is a story few know—a tale of personal loss, social stigma, and an unexpected connection to Mandeville.
For over a century, people believed John James Audubon was born in Mandeville. This myth, fueled by Audubon himself and his biographers, captured imaginations worldwide and lent the small town of Mandeville a brush with immortality. Pilgrims flocked to Fontainebleau—the supposed site of his birth—to see the origins of the men who painted birds with a level of detail so exacting that it rivaled the science of his time.
But how did this legend take flight? And what does it say about Audubon’s love for Louisiana?
Scandalous Beginnings
Audubon’s early life was as transient as the migratory birds he would later immortalize. Born April 26, 1785, on a Santo Domingo sugar plantation (now Haiti), he was the son of a French sea captain and Jeanne Rabine, his mother who died soon after his birth. Under French law, his illegitimacy denied him inheritance, baptism, and social acceptance, a stigma that followed him throughout his life.
To protect him, Audubon’s father sent him to France, where his wife, Anne Moynet, lovingly adopted and raised him. To avoid Napoleon’s draft, his father sent him to Pennsylvania with a forged passport claiming Audubon was born in Louisiana.
A Love for Louisiana
To anyone who lives on the Northshore, it’s small wonder that Audubon tried to root his family tree in Mandeville. “The State of Louisiana has always been my favourite portion of the Union,” he wrote.
Audubon fell in love with Louisiana in 1820 during a challenging time in his life. His ventures as a merchant, mill owner, and farmer had failed, leaving him in debt and struggling to support his family. Turning to his artistic talent and passion for ornithology, he sought a fresh start in New Orleans. “I parted with every particle of property,” he said, “keeping only the clothes I wore, my original drawings, and my gun.”
Hoping to find patrons to publish The Birds of America, his early efforts yielded little success. In 1821, he briefly tutored at Oakley Plantation in St. Francisville. The lush environment inspired him, offering countless bird species to study. Of the Louisiana Heron, he wrote, “Delicate in form, beautiful in plumage, and graceful in its movements … I never see this Heron without calling it the Lady of the Waters.”
Sketching the graceful arc of a wing or the delicate curve of a Brown Pelican’s beak, Audubon was reminded that even in the wild’s harsh realities, courage still existed. Even after the devastating death of his infant daughter, Rosa, in 1811, there was still hope, still life.
Audubon paintings, to be sure, are anything but still.
Unlike his contemporaries who painted stilted birds that looked like wooden statues, Audubon’s works exploded with life—birds mid-flight, caught in the act of hunting, preening, and feeding. His love for birds was more than a passion; it became his vocation that soared to the heights of art, science, and storytelling. Each painting told a story, complete with a beginning, middle, and ending—a testament to Audubon’s belief that nature is not to be merely observed but experienced.
From Loss to Legacy
Louisiana gave Audubon more than a home—it offered solace. Near the end of his life, as dementia clouded his memory, he reflected on how he coped with loss:
“One of the most extraordinary things among all these adverse circumstances was that I never for a day gave up listening to the songs of our birds, or watching their peculiar habits, or delineating them in the best way that I could …. During my deepest troubles I frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests; and many a time, at the sound of the wood-thrush’s melodies have I fallen on my knees, and there prayed earnestly to our God. This never failed to bring me the most valuable of thoughts and always comfort.”
Despite the stigma of his birth and the sorrows he endured, John James Audubon discovered a truth that still applies to all of us who call Louisiana home:
You don’t have to be born in Mandeville for Mandeville to be born in you.
The State of Louisiana has always been my favourite portion of the Union. (John James Audubon)
During my deepest troubles I frequently would ... retire to some secluded part of our noble forests.... This never failed to bring me the most valuable of thoughts and always comfort. (John James Audubon)