Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent hyphenation, capitalization, and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

The following inconsistencies were noted and retained:

• Grous and Grouse
• John Bullow and John Bulow
• Ingalls and Ingals
• Lehman and Leehman
• lents and lints
• Magdaleine and Magdeleine Islands
• oppossum and opossum
• waggons and wagons
• Schuylkill and Schuylkil
• arcuato-declinate and arcuate-declinate
• cæca and cœca
• Macculloch and M’Culloch

The following are possible errors, but retained:

• unrol
• “at the height of fifty years or more”
• John Quincey Adams
• Daniel Boon
• “The matin calls”
• Persimons
• pork-rhind
• p. 487 of Vol. II should possibly be page 435 of that volume.

The Errata on [page 632] have been corrected in the text.

Links are provided to Volume 1 of this work. The links are designed to work when the book is read on line. If you want to download that volume and use the links, you will need to change the links to point to the file name on your own device.

Download Volume 1 at http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56989.

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ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY,

OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF THE

BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,

ACCOMPANIED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF THE OBJECTS REPRESENTED IN THE WORK ENTITLED

THE BIRDS OF AMERICA,

AND INTERSPERSED WITH DELINEATIONS OF AMERICAN SCENERY AND MANNERS.

BY JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, F.R.SS.L. & E.

FELLOW OF THE LINNEAN AND ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON; MEMBER OF THE LYCEUM OF NEW YORK, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF PARIS, THE WERNERIAN NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH; HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY OF MANCHESTER, AND OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY OF PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE; MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, OF THE ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES AT PHILADELPHIA, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETIES OF BOSTON, OF CHARLESTON IN SOUTH CAROLINA, &C. &C.

Vol. III

EDINBURGH:

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;

LONGMAN, REES, BROWN, GREEN & LONGMAN, LONDON; R. HAVELL, ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, LONDON; THOMAS SOWLER, MANCHESTER; MRS ROBINSON, LEEDS; ALEXANDER HILL, EDINBURGH; J. HENRY BEILBY, BIRMINGHAM; E. CHARNLEY, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE; AND GEORGE SMITH, LIVERPOOL.

MDCCCXXXV.

PRINTED BY NEILL & Co.
Old Fishmarket, Edinburgh.

INTRODUCTION.

Ten years have now elapsed since the first number of my Illustrations of the Birds of America made its appearance. At that period I calculated that the engravers would take sixteen years in accomplishing their task; and this I announced in my prospectus, and talked of to my friends. Of the latter not a single individual seemed to have the least hope of my success, and several strongly advised me to abandon my plans, dispose of my drawings, and return to my country. I listened with attention to all that was urged on the subject, and often felt deeply depressed, for I was well aware of many of the difficulties to be surmounted, and perceived that no small sum of money would be required to defray the necessary expenses. Yet never did I seriously think of abandoning the cherished object of my hopes. When I delivered the first drawings to the engraver, I had not a single subscriber. Those who knew me best called me rash; some wrote to me that they did not expect to see a second fasciculus; and others seemed to anticipate the total failure of my enterprise. But my heart was nerved, and my reliance on that Power, on whom all must depend, brought bright anticipations of success.

Having made arrangements for meeting the first difficulties, I turned my attention to the improvement of my drawings, and began to collect from the pages of my journals the scattered notes which referred to the habits of the birds represented by them. I worked early and late, and glad I was to perceive that the more I laboured the more I improved. I was happy, too, to find, that in general each succeeding plate was better than its predecessor, and when those who had at first endeavoured to dissuade me from undertaking so vast an enterprise, complimented me on my more favourable prospects, I could not but feel happy. Number after number appeared in regular succession, until at the end of four years of anxiety, my engraver, Mr Havell, presented me with the First Volume of the Birds of America.

Convinced, from a careful comparison of the plates, that at least there had been no falling off in the execution, I looked forward with confidence to the termination of the next four years’ labour. Time passed on, and I returned from the forests and wilds of the western world to congratulate my friend Havell, just when the last plate of the second volume was finished.

About that time, a nobleman called upon me with his family, and requested me to shew them some of the original drawings, which I did with the more pleasure that my visitors possessed a knowledge of Ornithology. In the course of our conversation, I was asked how long it might be until the work should be finished. When I mentioned eight years more, the nobleman shrugged up his shoulders, and sighing, said, “I may not see it finished, but my children will, and you may please to add my name to your list of subscribers.” The young people exhibited a mingled expression of joy and sorrow, and when I with them strove to dispel the cloud that seemed to hang over their father’s mind, he smiled, bade me be sure to see that the whole work should be punctually delivered, and took his leave. The solemnity of his manner I could not forget for several days; I often thought that neither might I see the work completed, but at length I exclaimed “my sons may.” And now that another volume, both of my Illustrations and of my Biographies is finished, my trust in Providence is augmented, and I cannot but hope that myself and my family together may be permitted to see the completion of my labours.

I have performed no long journey since I last parted from you, and therefore I have little of personal history to relate to you. I have spent the greater part of the interval in London and Edinburgh, in both which cities I have continued to enjoy a social intercourse with many valued friends. In the former, it has been my good fortune to add to the list the names of William Yarrell, Esq., Dr Bell, Dr Boott, Captain James Clark Ross, R. N., and Dr Richardson. From Mr Yarrell and the two latter gentlemen, both well known to you as intrepid and successful travellers, I have received much valuable information, as well as precious specimens of birds and eggs, collected in the desolate regions of the extreme north. My anxiety to compare my specimens with those of the Zoological Society of London, induced me to request permission to do so, which the Council freely accorded. For this favour I now present my warm acknowledgments to the Noble Earl of Derby, the Members of the Council, their amiable Secretary Mr Bennett, and to Mr Gould, who had the kindness to select for me such specimens as I wanted. My friend Professor Jameson of Edinburgh has been equally kind in allowing me the means of comparing specimens. From America I have received some valuable information, and many interesting specimens of birds and eggs, for which I am indebted to the Rev. John Bachman, Dr Richard Harlan, Dr George Parkman, Edward Harris, Esq. and others.

The number of new species described in the present volume is not great. Among them, however, you will find the largest true Heron hitherto discovered in the United States. I have corrected some errors committed by authors, and have added to our Fauna several species which, although described by European writers, had not been observed in America. The habits of many species previously unknown have also been given in detail.

Having long ago observed, in works on the Birds of the United States, the omission of the females and the different appearances produced by the change of season in most water birds, I have represented the male accompanied by his mate, and, in as many instances as possible, the young also. The technical descriptions have been given at greater length than in the former volumes, with the view of preventing error even in comparing dried skins with either the figures or the descriptions. I have also given the average measurement of the eggs, which I regret I had omitted to do in the other volumes; an error which I purpose to atone for by presenting you, in the last number of my Illustrations, with figures of all those which I have collected.

The figures in the third volume of my Illustrations amount to one hundred and eighty-two, and are thus much fewer than those in either of the preceding volumes. This, however, was rendered necessary by the comparatively large size of the originals, the aquatic species of Birds greatly exceeding the terrestrial in this respect. Many of them in fact are so large that only a single figure could be given, and that not always in so good an attitude as I could have wished. For this reason I have sometimes been obliged to give the figure of the young in a separate plate; and this I shall in a few cases continue to do, in order to correct the errors of authors respecting certain species, which I have proved to be merely nominal. Still the number contained in the three volumes being six hundred and seventy-four, there are more than two to each species.

The engraving and colouring of the plates of this volume have generally been considered as much superior even to those of the second. Indeed, some of my patrons, both in Europe and America, have voluntarily expressed their conviction of the superiority of these plates. This is the more gratifying to me, that it proves the unremitted care and perseverance of Mr Havell and his assistants, of whom I mention with approbation Messrs Blake and Edington.

The Ornithology of the United States may be said to have been commenced by Alexander Wilson, whose premature death prevented him from completing his labours. It is unnecessary for me to say how well he performed the task which he had imposed upon himself; for all naturalists, and many who do not aspire to the name, acknowledge his great merits. But although he succeeded in observing and obtaining a very great number of our birds, he left for others many species which he was unable to procure. These have been sought for with eagerness, and not without success, by persons who have engaged in the pursuit with equal ardour. The Prince of Musignano, full of enthusiasm, having his judgment matured by long observation, and his mind stored with useful learning, collected in our woods and prairies, by our great rivers, and along our extended shores, materials sufficient for four superb volumes, intended as a continuation of Wilson’s work. Thomas Nuttall, equally learned and enthusiastic, next entered the field. His Manual of our Birds contains a mass of useful information, and is for the most part excellent. Many others have, in various ways, endeavoured to extend our knowledge on this subject; but with the exception of Thomas Say, none have published their discoveries in a connected form. Dr Harlan has given to the world an excellent account of our Mammalia; various works on Mollusca have appeared, and at present Dr Horlbeck of Charleston is engaged in publishing an account of our Reptiles.

Along our extended frontiers I have striven to observe and gather whatever had escaped the notice of the different collectors; and now, kind Reader, to prove to you that if not so fortunate as I had wished, I yet have done all that was in my power, I present you with a third volume of Ornithological Biographies, in which you will find some account of about sixty species of Water Birds not included in the works of Wilson. These, at one season or other, are to be met with along the shores or streams of the United States. Some of them are certainly very rare, others remarkable in form and habits; but all, I trust, you will find distinct from each other, and not inaccurately described.

The difficulties which are to be encountered in studying the habits of our Water Birds are great. He who follows the feathered inhabitants of the forests and plains, however rough or tangled the paths may be, seldom fails to obtain the objects of his pursuit, provided he be possessed of due enthusiasm and perseverance. The Land Bird flits from bush to bush, runs before you, and seldom extends its flight beyond the range of your vision. It is very different with the Water Bird, which sweeps afar over the wide ocean, hovers above the surges, or betakes itself for refuge to the inaccessible rocks on the shore. There, on the smooth sea-beach, you see the lively and active Sandpiper; on that rugged promontory the Dusky Cormorant; under the dark shade of yon cypress the Ibis and Heron; above you in the still air floats the Pelican or the Swan; while far over the angry billows scour the Fulmar and the Frigate bird. If you endeavour to approach these birds in their haunts, they betake themselves to flight, and speed to places where they are secure from your intrusion.

But the scarcer the fruit, the more prized it is; and seldom have I experienced greater pleasures than when on the Florida Keys, under a burning sun, after pushing my bark for miles over a soapy flat, I have striven all day long, tormented by myriads of insects, to procure a heron new to me, and have at length succeeded in my efforts. And then how amply are the labours of the naturalist compensated, when, after observing the wildest and most distrustful birds, in their remote and almost inaccessible breeding places, he returns from his journeys, and relates his adventures to an interested and friendly audience.

I look forward to the summer of 1838 with an anxious hope that I may then be able to present you with the last plate of my Illustrations, and the concluding volume of my Biographies. To render these volumes as complete as possible, I intend to undertake a journey to the southern and western limits of the Union, with the view of obtaining a more accurate knowledge of the birds of those remote and scarcely inhabited regions. On this tour I shall be accompanied by my youngest son, while the rest of my family will remain in Britain, to direct the progress of my publication.

In concluding these prefatory remarks, I have to inform you that one of the tail-pieces in my second volume, entitled “A Moose Hunt,” was communicated to me by my young friend Thomas Lincoln of Dennisville in Maine; and that it was at his particular request, and much against my wishes, that his name was not mentioned at the time. I have now, however, judged it proper to make this statement.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

Edinburgh, 1st December 1835.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

THE CANADA GOOSE.

Anser canadensis, Vieill.
PLATE CCI. Male and Female.

Although the Canada Goose is considered as a northern species, the number of individuals that remain at all seasons in the milder latitudes, and in different portions of the United States, fully entitles this bird to be looked upon as a permanent resident there. It is found to breed sparingly at the present day, by many of the lakes, lagoons, and large streams of our Western Districts, on the Missouri, the Mississippi, the lower parts of the Ohio, on Lake Erie, the lakes farther north, and in several large pools situated in the interior of the eastern parts of the States of Massachusetts and Maine. As you advance farther toward the east and north, you find it breeding more abundantly. While on my way to Labrador, I found it in the Magdeleine Islands, early in June, sitting on its eggs. In the Island of Anticosti there is a considerable stream, near the borders of which great numbers are said to be annually reared; and in Labrador these birds breed in every suitable marshy plain. The greater number of those which visit us from still more northern regions, return in the vernal season, like many other species, to the dismal countries which gave them birth.

Few if any of these birds spend the winter in Nova Scotia, my friend Mr Thomas M’Culloch having informed me that he never saw one about Pictou at that period. In spring, as they proceed northward, thousands are now and then seen passing high in the air; but in autumn, the flocks are considerably smaller, and fly much lower. During their spring movements, the principal places at which they stop to wait for milder days are Bay Chaleur, the Magdeleine Islands, Newfoundland, and Labrador, at all of which some remain to breed and spend the summer.

The general spring migration of the Canada Goose, may be stated to commence with the first melting of the snows in our Middle and Western Districts, or from the 20th of March to the end of April; but the precise time of its departure is always determined by the advance of the season, and the vast flocks that winter in the great savannahs or swampy prairies south-west of the Mississippi, such as exist in Opellousas, on the borders of the Arkansas River, or in the dismal “Ever Glades” of the Floridas, are often seen to take their flight, and steer their course northward, a month earlier than the first of the above mentioned periods. It is indeed probable that the individuals of a species most remote from the point at which the greater number ultimately assemble, commence their flight earlier than those which have passed the winter in stations nearer to it.

It is my opinion that all the birds of this species, which leave our States and territories each spring for the distant north, pair before they depart. This, no doubt, necessarily results from the nature of their place of summer residence, where the genial season is so short as scarcely to afford them sufficient time for bringing up their young and renewing their plumage, before the rigours of advancing winter force them to commence their flight towards milder countries. This opinion is founded on the following facts:—I have frequently observed large flocks of Geese, in ponds, on marshy grounds, or even on dry sand bars, the mated birds renewing their courtship as early as the month of January, while the other individuals would be contending or coquetting for hours every day, until all seemed satisfied with the choice they had made, after which, although they remained together, any person could easily perceive that they were careful to keep in pairs. I have observed also that the older the birds, the shorter were the preliminaries of their courtship, and that the barren individuals were altogether insensible to the manifestations of love and mutual affection that were displayed around them. The bachelors and old maids, whether in regret, or not caring to be disturbed by the bustle, quietly moved aside, and lay down on the grass or sand at some distance from the rest; and whenever the flocks rose on wing, or betook themselves to the water, these forlorn birds always kept behind. This mode of preparing for the breeding season has appeared to me the more remarkable, that, on reaching the place appointed for their summer residence, the birds of a flock separate in pairs, which form their nests and rear their young at a considerable distance from each other.

It is extremely amusing to witness the courtship of the Canada Goose in all its stages; and let me assure you, reader, that although a Gander does not strut before his beloved with the pomposity of a Turkey, or the grace of a Dove, his ways are quite as agreeable to the female of his choice. I can imagine before me one who has just accomplished the defeat of another male after a struggle of half an hour or more. He advances gallantly towards the object of contention, his head scarcely raised an inch from the ground, his bill open to its full stretch, his fleshy tongue elevated, his eyes darting fiery glances, and as he moves he hisses loudly, while the emotion which he experiences, causes his quills to shake, and his feathers to rustle. Now he is close to her who in his eyes is all loveliness; his neck bending gracefully in all directions, passes all round her, and occasionally touches her body; and as she congratulates him on his victory, and acknowledges his affection, they move their necks in a hundred curious ways. At this moment fierce jealousy urges the defeated gander to renew his efforts to obtain his love; he advances apace, his eye glowing with the fire of rage; he shakes his broad wings, ruffles up his whole plumage, and as he rushes on the foe, hisses with the intensity of anger. The whole flock seems to stand amazed, and opening up a space, the birds gather round to view the combat. The bold bird who has been caressing his mate, scarcely deigns to take notice of his foe, but seems to send a scornful glance towards him. He of the mortified feelings, however, raises his body, half opens his sinewy wings, and with a powerful blow, sends forth his defiance. The affront cannot be borne in the presence of so large a company, nor indeed is there much disposition to bear it in any circumstances; the blow is returned with vigour, the aggressor reels for a moment, but he soon recovers, and now the combat rages. Were the weapons more deadly, feats of chivalry would now be performed; as it is, thrust and blow succeed each other like the strokes of hammers driven by sturdy forgers. But now, the mated gander has caught hold of his antagonist’s head with his bill; no bull-dog could cling faster to his victim; he squeezes him with all the energy of rage, lashes him with his powerful wings, and at length drives him away, spreads out his pinions, runs with joy to his mate, and fills the air with cries of exultation.

But now, see yonder, not a couple, but half a dozen of ganders are engaged in battle! Some desperado, it seems, has fallen upon a mated bird, and several bystanders, as if sensible of the impropriety of such conduct, rush to the assistance of the wronged one. How they strive and tug, biting, and striking with their wings! and how their feathers fly about! Exhausted, abashed, and mortified, the presumptuous intruder retreats in disgrace;—there he lies almost breathless on the sand!

Such are the conflicts of these ardent lovers, and so full of courage and of affection towards their females are they, that the approach of a male invariably ruffles their tempers as well as their feathers. No sooner has the goose laid her first egg, than her bold mate stands almost erect by her side, watching even the rustling sound of the breeze. The least noise brings from him a sound of anger. Should he spy a racoon making its way among the grass, he walks up to him undauntedly, hurls a vigorous blow at him, and drives him instantly away. Nay I doubt if man himself, if unarmed, would come off unscathed in such an encounter. The brave gander does more; for, if imminent danger excite him, he urges his mate to fly off, and resolutely remains near the nest until he is assured of her safety, when he also betakes himself to flight, mocking as it were by his notes his disappointed enemy.

Suppose all to be peace and quiet around the fond pair, and the female to be sitting in security upon her eggs. The nest is placed near the bank of a noble stream or lake; the clear sky is spread over the scene, the bright beams glitter on the waters, and a thousand odorous flowers give beauty to the swamp which of late was so dismal. The gander passes to and fro over the liquid element, moving as if lord of the waters; now he inclines his head with a graceful curve, now sips to quench his thirst; and, as noontide has arrived, he paddles his way towards the shore, to relieve for a while his affectionate and patient consort. The lisping sounds of their offspring are heard through the shell; their little bills have formed a breach in the inclosing walls; full of life, and bedecked with beauty, they come forth, with tottering steps and downy covering. Toward the water they now follow their careful parent, they reach the border of the stream, their mother already floats on the loved element, one after another launches forth, and now the flock glides gently along. What a beautiful sight! Close by the grassy margin, the mother slowly leads her innocent younglings; to one she shews the seed of the floating grass, to another points out the crawling slug. Her careful eye watches the cruel turtle, the garfish, and the pike, that are lurking for their prey, and, with head inclined, she glances upwards to the eagle or the gull that are hovering over the water in search of food. A ferocious bird dashes at her young ones; she instantly plunges beneath the surface, and, in the twinkling of an eye, her brood disappear after her; now they are among the thick rushes, with nothing above water but their little bills. The mother is marching towards the land, having lisped to her brood in accents so gentle that none but they and her mate can understand their import, and all are safely lodged under cover until the disappointed eagle or gull bears away.

More than six weeks have now elapsed. The down of the goslings, which was at first soft and tufty, has become coarse and hairlike. Their wings are edged with quills, and their bodies bristled with feathers. They have increased in size, and, living in the midst of abundance, they have become fat, so that on shore they make their way with difficulty, and as they are yet unable to fly, the greatest care is required to save them from their numerous enemies. They grow apace, and now the burning days of August are over. They are able to fly with ease from one shore to another, and as each successive night the hoarfrosts cover the country, and the streams are closed over by the ice, the family joins that in their neighbourhood, which is also joined by others. At length they spy the advance of a snow-storm, when the ganders with one accord sound the order for their departure.

After many wide circlings, the flock has risen high in the thin air, and an hour or more is spent in teaching the young the order in which they are to move. But now, the host has been marshalled, and off it starts, shewing, as it proceeds, at one time an extended front, at another a single lengthened file, and now arraying itself in an angular form. The old males advance in front, the females follow, the young come in succession according to their strength, the weakest forming the rear. Should one feel fatigued, his position is changed in the ranks, and he assumes a place in the wake of another, who cleaves the air before him; perhaps the parent bird flies for a while by his side to encourage him. Two, three, or more days elapse before they reach a secure resting place. The fat with which they were loaded at their departure has rapidly wasted; they are fatigued, and experience the keen gnawings of hunger; but now they spy a wide estuary, towards which they direct their course. Alighting on the water, they swim to the beach, stand, and gaze around them; the young full of joy, the old full of fear, for well are they aware that many foes have been waiting their arrival. Silent all night remains the flock, but not inactive; with care they betake themselves to the grassy shores, where they allay the cravings of appetite, and recruit their wasted strength. Soon as the early dawn lightens the surface of the deep they rise into the air, extend their lines, and proceed southward, until arriving in some place where they think they may be enabled to rest in security, they remain during the winter. At length, after many annoyances, they joyfully perceive the return of spring, and prepare to fly away from their greatest enemy, man.

The Canada Goose often arrives in our Western and Middle Districts as early as the beginning of September, and does not by any means confine itself to the seashore. Indeed, my opinion is, that for every hundred seen during the winter along our large bays and estuaries, as many thousands may be found in the interior of the country, where they frequent the large ponds, rivers, and wet savannahs. During my residence in the State of Kentucky, I never spent a winter without observing immense flocks of these birds, especially in the neighbourhood of Henderson, where I have killed many hundreds of them, as well as on the Falls of the Ohio at Louisville, and in the neighbouring country, which abounds in ponds overgrown with grasses and various species of Nympheæ, on the seeds of which they greedily feed. Indeed all the lakes situated within a few miles of the Missouri and Mississippi, or their tributaries, are still amply supplied with them from the middle of autumn to the beginning of spring. In these places, too, I have found them breeding, although sparingly. It seems to me more than probable, that the species bred abundantly in the temperate parts of North America before the white population extended over them. This opinion is founded on the relations of many old and respectable citizens of our country, and in particular of General George Clark, one of the first settlers on the banks of the Ohio, who, at a very advanced age, assured me that, fifty years before the period when our conversation took place (about seventy-five years from the present time), wild geese were so plentiful at all seasons of the year, that he was in the habit of having them shot to feed his soldiers, then garrisoned near Vincennes, in the present State of Indiana. My father, who travelled down the Ohio shortly after Bradock’s defeat, related the same to me; and I, as well as many persons now residing at Louisville in Kentucky, well remember that, twenty-five or thirty years ago, it was quite easy to procure young Canada Geese in the ponds around. So late as 1819, I have met with the nests, eggs, and young of this species near Henderson. However, as I have already said, the greater number remove far north to breed. I have never heard of an instance of their breeding in the Southern States. Indeed, so uncongenial to their constitution seems the extreme heat of these parts to be, that the attempts made to rear them in a state of domestication very rarely succeed.

The Canada Goose, when it remains with us to breed, begins to form its nest in March, making choice of some retired place not far from the water, generally among the rankest grass, and not unfrequently under a bush. It is carefully formed of dry plants of various kinds, and is of a large size, flat, and raised to the height of several inches. Once only did I find a nest elevated above the ground. It was placed on the stump of a large tree, standing in the centre of a small pond, about twenty feet high, and contained five eggs. As the spot was very secluded, I did not disturb the birds, anxious as I was to see in what manner they should convey the young to the water. But in this I was disappointed, for, on going to the nest, near the time at which I expected the process of incubation to terminate, I had the mortification to find that a racoon, or some other animal, had destroyed the whole of the eggs, and that the birds had abandoned the place. The greatest number of eggs which I have found in the nest of this species was nine, which I think is more by three than these birds usually lay in a wild state. In the nests of those which I have had in a domesticated state, I have sometimes counted as many as eleven, several of them, however, usually proving unproductive. The eggs measure, on an average, 3 1/2 inches by 2 1/2, are thick shelled, rather smooth, and of a very dull yellowish-green colour. The period of incubation is twenty-eight days. They never have more than one brood in a season, unless their eggs are removed or broken at an early period.

The young follow their parents to the water a day or two after they have issued from the egg, but generally return to land to repose in the sunshine in the evening, and pass the night there under their mother, who employs all imaginable care to ensure their comfort and safety, as does her mate, who never leaves her during incubation for a longer time than is necessary for procuring food, and takes her place at intervals. Both remain with their brood until the following spring. It is during the breeding-season that the gander displays his courage and strength to the greatest advantage. I knew one that appeared larger than usual, and of which all the lower parts were of a rich cream colour. It returned three years in succession to a large pond a few miles from the mouth of Green River in Kentucky, and whenever I visited the nest, it seemed to look upon me with utter contempt. It would stand in a stately attitude, until I reached within a few yards of the nest, when suddenly lowering its head, and shaking it as if it were dislocated from the neck, it would open its wings, and launch into the air, flying directly at me. So daring was this fine fellow, that in two instances he struck me a blow with one of his wings on the right arm, which, for an instant, I thought, was broken. I observed that immediately after such an effort to defend his nest and mate, he would run swiftly towards them, pass his head and neck several times over and around the female, and again assume his attitude of defiance.

Always intent on making experiments, I thought of endeavouring to conciliate this bold son of the waters. For this purpose I always afterwards took with me several ears of corn, which I shelled, and threw towards him. It remained untouched for several days; but I succeeded at last, and before the end of a week both birds fed freely on the grain even in my sight! I felt much pleasure on this occasion, and repeating my visit daily, found, that before the eggs were hatched, they would allow me to approach within a few feet of them, although they never suffered me to touch them. Whenever I attempted this the male met my fingers with his bill, and bit me so severely that I gave it up. The great beauty and courage of the male rendered me desirous of obtaining possession of him. I had marked the time at which the young were likely to appear, and on the preceding day I baited with corn a large coop made of twine, and waited until he should enter. He walked in, I drew the string, and he was my prisoner. The next morning the female was about to lead her offspring to the river, which was distant nearly half a mile, when I caught the whole of the young birds, and with them the mother too, who came within reach in attempting to rescue one of her brood, and had them taken home. There I took a cruel method of preventing their escape, for with a knife I pinioned each of them on the same side, and turned them loose in my garden, where I had a small but convenient artificial pond. For more than a fortnight, both the old birds appeared completely cowed. Indeed, for some days I felt apprehensive that they would abandon the care of the young ones. However, with much attention, I succeeded in rearing the latter by feeding them abundantly with the larvæ of locusts, which they ate greedily, as well as with corn-meal moistened with water, and the whole flock, consisting of eleven individuals, went on prosperously. In December the weather became intensely cold, and I observed that now and then the gander would spread his wings, and sound a loud note, to which the female first, and then all the young ones in succession, would respond, when they would all run as far as the ground allowed them in a southerly direction, and attempt to fly off. I kept the whole flock three years. The old pair never bred while in my possession, but two pairs of the young ones did, one of them raising three, the other seven. They all bore a special enmity to dogs, and shewed dislike to cats; but they manifested a still greater animosity towards an old swan and a wild turkey-cock which I had. I found them useful in clearing the garden of slugs and snails; and although they now and then nipped the vegetables, I liked their company. When I left Henderson, my flock of geese was given away, and I have not since heard how it has fared with them.

On one of my shooting excursions in the same neighbourhood, I chanced one day to kill a wild Canada Goose, which, on my return, was sent to the kitchen. The cook, while dressing it, found in it an egg ready for being laid, and brought it to me. It was placed under a common hen, and in due time hatched. Two years afterwards the bird thus raised, mated with a male of the same species, and produced a brood. This goose was so gentle that she would suffer any person to caress her, and would readily feed from the hand. She was smaller than usual, but in every other respect as perfect as any I have ever seen. At the period of migration she shewed by her movements less desire to fly off than any other I have known; but her mate, who had once been free, did not participate in this apathy.

I have not been able to discover why many of those birds which I have known to have been reared from the egg, or to have been found when very young and brought up in captivity, were so averse to reproduce, unless they were naturally sterile. I have seen several that had been kept for more than eight years, without ever mating during that period, while other individuals had young the second spring after their birth. I have also observed that an impatient male would sometimes abandon the females of his species, and pay his addresses to a common tame goose, by which a brood would in due time be brought up, and would thrive. That this tardiness is not the case in the wild state I feel pretty confident, for I have observed having broods of their own many individuals which, by their size, the dulness of their plumage, and such other marks as are known to the practical ornithologist, I judged to be not more than fifteen or sixteen months old. I have therefore thought that in this, as in many other species, a long series of years is necessary for counteracting the original wild and free nature which has been given them; and indeed it seems probable that our attempts to domesticate many species of wild fowls, which would prove useful to mankind, have often been abandoned in despair, when a few years more of constant care might have produced the desired effect.

The Canada Goose, although immediately after the full development of its young it becomes gregarious, does not seem to be fond of the company of any other species. Thus, whenever the White-fronted Goose, the Snow Goose, the Brent Goose, or others, alight in the same ponds, it forces them to keep at a respectful distance; and during its migrations I have never observed a single bird of any other kind in its ranks.

The flight of this species of Goose is firm, rather rapid, and capable of being protracted to a great extent. When once high in the air, they advance with extreme steadiness and regularity of motion. In rising from the water or from the ground, they usually run a few feet with outspread wings; but when suddenly surprised and in full plumage, a single spring on their broad webbed feet is sufficient to enable them to get on wing. While travelling to some considerable distance, they pass through the air at the height of about a mile, steadily following a direct course towards the point to which they are bound. Their notes are distinctly heard, and the various changes made in the disposition of their ranks are easily seen. But although on these occasions they move with the greatest regularity, yet when they are slowly advancing from south to north at an early period of the season, they fly much lower, alight more frequently, and are more likely to be bewildered by suddenly formed banks of fog, or by passing over cities or arms of the sea where much shipping may be in sight. On such occasions great consternation prevails among them, they crowd together in a confused manner, wheel irregularly, and utter a constant cackling resembling the sounds from a disconcerted mob. Sometimes the flock separates, some individuals leave the rest, proceed in a direction contrary to that in which they came, and after a while, as if quite confused, sail towards the ground, once alighted on which they appear to become almost stupified, so as to suffer themselves to be shot with ease, or even knocked down with sticks. This I have known to take place on many occasions, besides those of which I have myself been a witness. Heavy snow-storms also cause them great distress, and in the midst of them some have been known to fly against beacons and lighthouses, dashing their heads against the walls in the middle of the day. In the night they are attracted by the lights of these buildings, and now and then a whole flock is caught on such occasions. At other times their migrations northward are suddenly checked by a change of weather, the approach of which seems to be well known to them, for they will suddenly wheel and fly back in a southern direction several hundred miles. In this manner I have known flocks to return to the places which they had left a fortnight before. Nay even during the winter months, they are keenly sensible to changes of temperature, flying north or south in search of feeding-grounds, with so much knowledge of the future state of the weather, that one may be assured when he sees them proceeding southward in the evening, that the next morning will be cold, and vice versa.

The Canada Goose is less shy when met with far inland, than when on the sea-coast, and the smaller the ponds or lakes to which they resort, the more easy it is to approach them. They usually feed in the manner of Swans and fresh-water Ducks, that is, by plunging their heads towards the bottom of shallow ponds or the borders of lakes and rivers, immersing their fore parts, and frequently exhibiting their legs and feet with the posterior portion of their body elevated in the air. They never dive on such occasions. If feeding in the fields or meadows, they nip the blades of grass sidewise, in the manner of the Domestic Goose, and after rainy weather, they are frequently seen rapidly patting the earth with both feet, as if to force the earth-worms from their burrows. If they dabble at times with their bills in muddy water, in search of food, this action is by no means so common with them as it is with Ducks, the Mallard for example. They are extremely fond of alighting in corn-fields covered with tender blades, where they often remain through the night and commit great havoc. Wherever you find them, and however remote from the haunts of man the place may be, they are at all times so vigilant and suspicious, that it is extremely rare to surprise them. In keenness of sight and acuteness of hearing, they are perhaps surpassed by no bird whatever. They act as sentinels towards each other, and during the hours at which the flock reposes, one or more ganders stand on the watch. At the sight of cattle, horses, or animals of the deer kind, they are seldom alarmed, but a bear or a cougar is instantly announced, and if on such occasions the flock is on the ground near water, the birds immediately betake themselves in silence to the latter, swim to the middle of the pond or river, and there remain until danger is over. Should their enemies pursue them in the water, the males utter loud cries, and the birds arrange themselves in close ranks, rise simultaneously in a few seconds, and fly off in a compact body, seldom at such times forming lines or angles, it being in fact only when the distance they have to travel is great that they dispose themselves in those forms. So acute is their sense of hearing, that they are able to distinguish the different sounds or footsteps of their foes with astonishing accuracy. Thus the breaking of a dry stick by a deer is at once distinguished from the same accident occasioned by a man. If a dozen of large turtles drop into the water, making a great noise in their fall, or if the same effect is produced by an alligator, the Wild Goose pays no regard to it; but however faint and distant may be the sound of an Indian’s paddle, that may by accident have struck the side of his canoe, it is at once marked, every individual raises its head and looks intently towards the place from which the noise has proceeded, and in silence all watch the movements of their enemy.

These birds are extremely cunning also, and should they conceive themselves unseen, they silently move into the tall grasses by the margin of the water, lower their heads, and lie perfectly quiet until the boat has passed by. I have seen them walk off from a large frozen pond into the woods, to elude the sight of the hunter, and return as soon as he had crossed the pond. But should there be snow on the ice or in the woods, they prefer watching the intruder, and take to wing long before he is within shooting distance, as if aware of the ease with which they could be followed by their tracks over the treacherous surface.

The Canada Geese are fond of returning regularly to the place which they have chosen for resting in, and this they continue to do until they find themselves greatly molested while there. In parts of the country where they are little disturbed, they seldom go farther than the nearest sandbank or the dry shore of the places in which they feed; but in other parts they retire many miles to spots of greater security, and of such extent as will enable them to discover danger long before it can reach them. When such a place is found, and proves secure, many flocks resort to it, but alight apart in separate groups. Thus, on some of the great sandbars of the Ohio, the Mississippi, and other large streams, congregated flocks, often amounting to a thousand individuals, may be seen at the approach of night, which they spend there, lying on the sand within a few feet of each other, every flock having its own sentinel. In the dawn of next morning they rise on their feet, arrange and clean their feathers, perhaps walk to the water to drink, and then depart for their feeding grounds.

When I first went to the Falls of the Ohio, the rocky shelvings of which are often bare for fully half a mile, thousands of wild geese of this species rested there at night. The breadth of the various channels that separate the rocky islands from either shore, and the rapidity of the currents which sweep along them, render this place of resort more secure than most others. The wild geese still betake themselves to these islands during winter for the same purpose, but their number has become very small; and so shy are these birds at present in the neighbourhood of Louisville, that the moment they are disturbed at the ponds where they go to feed each morning, were it but by the report of a single gun, they immediately return to their rocky asylums. Even there, however, they are by no means secure, for it not unfrequently happens that a flock alights within half gunshot of a person concealed in a pile of drifted wood, whose aim generally proves too true for their peace. Nay, I knew a gentleman, who had a large mill opposite Rock Island, and who used to kill the poor geese at the distance of about a quarter of a mile, by means of a small cannon heavily charged with rifle bullets; and, if I recollect truly, Mr Tarascon in this manner not unfrequently obtained a dozen or more geese at a shot. This was done at dawn, when the birds were busily engaged in trimming their plumage with the view of flying off in a few minutes to their feeding grounds. This war of extermination could not last long: the geese deserted the fatal rock, and the great gun of the mighty miller was used only for a few weeks.

While on the water, the Canada Goose moves with considerable grace, and in its general deportment resembles the wild Swan, to which I think it is nearly allied. If wounded in the wing, they sometimes dive to a small depth, and make off with astonishing address, always in the direction of the shore, the moment they reach which, you see them sneaking through the grass or bushes, their necks extended an inch or so above the ground, and in this manner proceeding so silently, that, unless closely watched, they are pretty sure to escape. If shot at and wounded while on the ice, they immediately walk off in a dignified manner, as if anxious to make you believe that they have not been injured, emitting a loud note all the while; but the instant they reach the shore they become silent, and make off in the manner described. I was much surprised one day, while on the coast of Labrador, to see how cunningly one of these birds, which, in consequence of the moult, was quite unable to fly, managed for a while to elude our pursuit. It was first perceived at some distance from the shore, when the boat was swiftly rowed towards it, and it swam before us with great speed, making directly towards the land; but when we came within a few yards of it, it dived, and nothing could be seen of it for a long time. Every one of the party stood on tiptoe to mark the spot at which it should rise, but all in vain, when the man at the rudder accidentally looked down over the stern and there saw the goose, its body immersed, the point of its bill alone above water, and its feet busily engaged in propelling it so as to keep pace with the movements of the boat. The sailor attempted to catch it while within a foot or two of him, but with the swiftness of thought it shifted from side to side, fore and aft, until delighted at having witnessed so much sagacity in a goose, I begged the party to suffer the poor bird to escape.

The crossing of the Canada Goose with the common domestic species has proved as advantageous as that of the wild with the tame Turkey, the cross breed being much larger than the original one, more easily raised, and more speedily fattened. This process is at present carried on to a considerable extent in our Western and Eastern States, where the hybrids are regularly offered for sale during autumn and winter, and where they bring a higher price than either of the species from which they are derived.

The Canada Goose makes its first appearance in the western country, as well as along our Atlantic coast, from the middle of September to that of October, arriving in flocks composed of a few families. The young birds procured at this early season soon get into good order, become tender and juicy, and therefore afford excellent eating. If a sportsman is expert and manages to shoot the old birds first, he is pretty sure to capture the less wily young ones afterwards, as they will be very apt to return to the same feeding places to which their parents had led them at their first arrival. To await their coming to a pond where they are known to feed is generally effectual, but to me this mode of proceeding never afforded much pleasure, more especially because the appearance of any other bird which I wished to obtain would at once induce me to go after it, and thus frighten the game, so that I rarely procured any on such occasions. But yet, as I have witnessed the killing of many a fine goose, I hope you will suffer me to relate one or two anecdotes connected with the shooting of this kind of game.

Reader, I am well acquainted with one of the best sportsmen now living in the whole of the western country, one possessed of strength, activity, courage, and patience,—qualities of great importance in a gunner. I have frequently seen him mount a capital horse of speed and bottom at midnight, when the mercury in the thermometer was about the freezing point, and the ground was covered with snow and ice, the latter of which so encased the trees that you might imagine them converted into glass. Well, off he goes at a round gallop, his steed rough shod, but nobody knows whither, save myself, who am always by his side. He has a wallet containing our breakfast, and abundance of ammunition, together with such implements as are necessary on occasions like the present. The night is pitch-dark, and dismal enough; but who cares! He knows the woods as well as any Kentucky hunter, and in this respect I am not much behind him. A long interval has passed, and now the first glimpse of day appears in the east. We know quite well where we are, and that we have travelled just twenty miles. The Barred Owl alone interrupts the melancholy silence of the hour. Our horses we secure, and on foot we move cautiously towards a “long pond,” the feeding-place of several flocks of geese, none of which have yet arrived, although the whole surface of open water is covered with Mallards, Widgeons, Pintail Ducks, Blue-winged and Green-winged Teals. My friend’s gun, like mine, is a long and trusty one, and the opportunity is too tempting. On all fours we cautiously creep to the very edge of the pond; we now raise ourselves on our knees, level our pieces, and let fly. The woods resound with repeated echoes, the air is filled with Ducks of all sorts, our dogs dash into the half frozen water, and in a few minutes a small heap of game lies at our feet. Now, we retire, separate, and betake ourselves to different sides of the pond. If I may judge of my companion’s fingers by the state of my own, I may feel certain that it would be difficult for him to fasten a button. There we are shivering, with contracted feet and chattering teeth; but the geese are coming, and their well known cry, hauk, hauk, awhawk, awhawk, resounds through the air. They wheel and wheel for a while, but at length gracefully alight on the water, and now they play and wash themselves, and begin to look about for food. There must be at least twenty of them. Twenty more soon arrive, and in less than half an hour we have before us a flock of a hundred individuals. My experienced friend has put a snow-white shirt over his apparel, and although I am greatly intent on observing his motions, I see that it is impossible even for the keen eye of the sentinel goose to follow them. Bang, bang, quoth his long gun, and the birds in dismay instantly start, and fly towards the spot where I am. When they approach I spring up on my feet, the geese shuffle, and instantaneously rise upright; I touch my triggers singly, and broken-winged and dead two birds come heavily to the ground at my feet. Oh that we had more guns! But the business at this pond has been transacted. We collect our game, return to our horses, fasten the necks of the geese and ducks together, and throwing them across our saddles, proceed towards another pond. In this manner we continue to shoot until the number of geese obtained would seem to you so very large that I shall not specify it.

At another time my friend proceeds alone to the Falls of the Ohio, and, as usual, reaches the margins of the stream long before day. His well-trained steed plunges into the whirls of the rapid current, and, with some difficulty, carries his bold rider to an island, where he lands drenched and cold. The horse knows what he has to do as well as his master, and while the former ranges about and nips the frozen herbage, the latter carefully approaches a well-known pile of drifted wood, and conceals himself in it. His famous dog Nep is close at his heels. Now the dull grey dawn gives him a dim view of the geese; he fires, several fall on the spot, and one severely wounded rises and alights in the Indian Chute. Neptune dashes after it, but as the current is powerful, the gunner whistles to his horse, who, with pricked ears, gallops up. He instantly vaults into the saddle, and now see them plunge into the treacherous stream. The wounded game is overtaken, the dog is dragged along, and at length on the Indiana shore the horse and his rider have effected a landing. Any other man than he of whose exploits I am the faithful recorder, would have perished long ago. But it is not half so much for the sake of the plunder that he undergoes all this labour and danger, as for the gratification it affords his kind heart to distribute the game among his numerous friends in Louisville.

On our eastern shores matters are differently managed. The gunners there shoot geese with the prospect of pecuniary gain, and go to work in another way. Some attract them with wooden geese, others with actual birds; they lie in ambush for many hours at a time, and destroy an immense number of them, by using extremely long guns; but as there is little sport in this sort of shooting, I shall say no more about it. Here the Canada Goose feeds much on a species of long slender grass, the Zostera marina, along with marine insects, crustacea, and small shell-fish, all of which have a tendency to destroy the agreeable flavour which their flesh has when their food consists of fresh-water plants, corn, and grass. They spend much of their time at some distance from the shores, become more shy, diminish in bulk, and are much inferior as food to those which visit the interior of the country. None of these, however, are at all to be compared with the goslings bred in the inland districts, and procured in September, when, in my opinion, they far surpass the renowned Canvass-backed Duck.

A curious mode of shooting the Canada Goose I have practised with much success. I have sunk in the sand of the bars to which these birds resort at night, a tight hogshead, to within an inch of its upper edges, and placing myself within it at the approach of evening, have drawn over me a quantity of brushwood, placing my gun on the sand, and covering it in like manner with twigs and leaves. The birds would sometimes alight very near me, and in this concealment I have killed several at a shot; but the stratagem answers for only a few nights in the season. During severe winters these birds are able to keep certain portions of the deepest parts of a pond quite open and free from ice, by their continued movements in the water; at all events, such open spaces occasionally occur in ponds and lakes, and are resorted to by the geese, among which great havoc is made.

It is alleged in the State of Maine that a distinct species of Canada Goose resides there, which is said to be much smaller than the one now under your notice, and is described as resembling it in all other particulars. Like the true Canada Goose, it builds a large nest, which it lines with its own down. Sometimes it is placed on the sea-shore, at other times by the margin of a fresh-water lake or pond. That species is distinguished there by the name of Flight Goose, and is said to be entirely migratory, whereas the Canada Goose is resident. But, notwithstanding all my exertions, I did not succeed in procuring so much as a feather of this alleged species.

While we were at Newfoundland, on our return from Labrador, on the 15th August 1833, small flocks of the Canada Goose were already observed flying southward. In that country their appearance is hailed with delight, and great numbers of them are shot. They breed rather abundantly by the lakes of the interior of that interesting country. In the harbour of Great Macatina in Labrador, I saw a large pile of young Canada Geese, that had been procured a few days before, and were already salted for winter use. The pile consisted of several hundred individuals, all of which had been killed before they were able to fly. I was told there that this species fed much on the leaves of the dwarf firs, and, on examining their gizzards, found the statement to be correct.

The young dive very expertly, soon after their reaching the water, at the least appearance of danger. In the Southern and Western States, the enemies of the Canada Goose are, by water, the Alligator, the Garfish, and the Turtle; and on land, the Cougar, the Lynx, and the Racoon. While in the air, they are liable to be attacked by the White-headed Eagle. It is a very hardy bird, and individuals have been kept in a state of captivity or domestication for upwards of forty years. Every portion of it is useful to man, for besides the value of the flesh as an article of food, the feathers, the quills, and the fat, are held in request. The eggs also afford very good eating.

Anas canadensis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 198.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 838.

Anser canadensis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 377.

Canada Goose, Anas canadensis, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 52. pl. 67. fig. 4.

Anser canadensis, Canada Goose, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. p. 468.

Canada Goose, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 349.

Adult Male. Plate CCI. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, rather higher than broad at the base, somewhat conical, depressed towards the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line sloping, the ridge broad and flattened, the sides sloping, the edges soft and obtuse, the oblique marginal lamellæ short, transverse, about thirty on each side; the unguis obovate, convex, denticulate on the inner edge. Nasal groove oblong, parallel to the ridge, filled by the soft membrane of the bill; nostrils medial, lateral, longitudinal, narrow-elliptical, open, pervious. Lower mandible straight, with the angle very long, narrow, and rounded, the edges soft and obtuse, with about thirty oblique lamellæ on a perpendicular plane.

Head small, oblong, compressed. Neck long and slender. Body full, slightly depressed. Feet short, stout, placed behind the centre of the body; legs bare a little above the tibio-tarsal joint; tarsus short, a little compressed, covered all round with angular reticulated scales, which are smaller behind; hind toe very small, with a narrow membrane; third toe longest, fourth a little shorter, but longer than second; all the toes reticulated above at the base, but with narrow transverse scutella towards the end; the three anterior connected by a reticulated membrane, the outer with a thick margin, the inner with the margin extended into a two-lobed web; claws small, arched, rather compressed, except that of the middle toe, which is bent obliquely outwards and depressed, with a curved edge. Wings of moderate length, with an obtuse protuberance at the flexure.

Plumage close, rather short, compact above, blended on the neck and lower parts of the body. The feathers of the head and neck very narrow, of the back very broad and abrupt, of the breast and belly broadly rounded. Wings, when closed, extending to about an inch from the end of the tail, acute; primaries very strong, curved, the second longest, the third slightly shorter, the first almost as long as the third, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries long, rather narrow, rounded. Tail very short, rounded, of eighteen stiff, rounded, but acuminate, feathers.

Bill, feet, and claws black. Iris chestnut-brown. Head and two upper thirds of the neck glossy black; forehead, cheeks, and chin, tinged with brown; lower eyelid white; a broad band of the same across the throat to behind the eyes; rump and tail-feathers also black. The general colour of the rest of the upper parts is greyish-brown, the wing-coverts shaded into ash-grey; all the feathers terminally edged with very pale brown; the lower part of the neck passing into greyish-white, which is the general colour of the lower parts, with the exception of the abdomen, which is pure white, the sides, which are pale brownish-grey, the feathers tipped with white, and the lower wing-coverts, which are also pale brownish-grey. The margins of the rump, and the upper tail-coverts, pure white.

In very old males, I have found the breast of a fine pale buff.

Length to end of tail 43 inches, extent of wings 65; bill along the ridge 2 1/2, in depth at the base 1 2/12, in breadth 1; tarsus 3 7/12; middle toe and claw 4 1/4; wing from flexure 20; tail 7 1/2. Weight 7 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCI. Fig. 2.

The Female is somewhat less than the male, but similar in colouring, although the tints are duller. The white of the throat is tinged with brown; the lower parts are always more grey, and the black of the head, neck, rump, and tail, is shaded with brown.

Length 41 inches. Weight 5 3/4 lb.

THE RED-THROATED DIVER.

Colymbus septentrionalis, Linn.
PLATE CCII. Male in summer, Young Male in winter, Female, and Young unfledged.

Whilst the icicles are yet hanging from the rocks of our eastern shores, and the snows are gradually giving way under the influence of the April rains, the Bluebird is heard to sound the first notes of his love-song, and the Red-throated Diver is seen to commence his flight. Already paired, the male and female, side by side, move swiftly through the air, steering their course, at a great height, towards some far distant region of the dreary north. Pair after pair advance at intervals during the whole day, and perhaps continue their journey all night. Their long necks are extended, their feet stretched out rudder-like beyond the short tail, and onwards they speed, beating the air with great regularity. Now they traverse a great arm of the sea, now cross a peninsula; but let what may intervene, their undeviating course holds straight forwards, as the needle points to its pole. High as they are, you can perceive the brilliant white of their lower parts. Onward they speed in silence, and as I stand gazing after them, they have already disappeared from my view.

The middle of May has arrived; our woods are once more filled with the melodies of numberless warblers, and the Divers have ceased to be seen on our eastern coasts. To study their habits at this season, we must follow them to the islands in the mouth of the broad St Lawrence, or to the granitic rocks of Labrador. The voyage cannot be performed without great expense, and may be attended with danger, but enthusiasm urges me on, and now my bark skims over the blue waters. At length arrived on the rocky shores, I prepare to visit the interior of that rude and moss-clad region. Thousands of little lakes are seen, on which are numberless islets richly clad with grass and sedge, the whole of which seems as if it had grown in a day, so tender are the fresh blades, and so pure their light green tint. High over these waters, the produce of the melted snows, the Red-throated Diver is seen gambolling by the side of his mate. The males emit their love-notes, and, with necks gracefully curved downwards, speed by the females, saluting them with mellow tones as they pass. In broad circles they wheel their giddy flight, and now, with fantastic glidings and curves, they dive towards the spot of their choice. Alighted on the water, how gracefully they swim, how sportively they beat it with their strong pinions, how quickly they plunge and rise again, and how joyously do they manifest to each other the depth and intensity of their affection! Now with erected neck and body deeply immersed they swim side by side. Reynard they perceive cunningly advancing at a distance; but they are too vigilant for him, and down like a flash they go, nor rise again until far beyond his reach. Methinks I see them curiously concealed among the rank weeds under the bank of their own islet, their bills alone raised above the water, and there will they remain for an hour, rather than shew themselves to their insidious enemy, who, disappointed, leaves them to pursue their avocations.

The Red-throated Diver is found, in tolerable abundance, on the sea-coast of the United States during autumn, winter, and early spring, from Maryland to the extremities of Maine. The younger the birds, the farther south do they proceed to spend the winter, and it is rare to see an old bird, of either sex, at any season to the south of the Bay of Boston. Farther eastward they become more common, and they may be said to be plentiful towards the entrance of the Bay of Fundy, in the vicinity of which a few remain and breed. I found some in December, January, and February at Boston, where I procured males, females, and young birds. The old had the red patch on the throat rather darker than in the breeding season; the delicate grey and white lines on the neck were as pure as I observed them to be during summer in Labrador; and I have since been convinced that birds of this family undergo very little if any change of colouring after they have once acquired their perfect plumage, the Loon and the Black-throated Diver being included in this remark; while, on the contrary, all the Grebes with which I am acquainted, lose the beauty of their plumage as soon as the breeding season is over. This remarkable difference between the Divers and the Grebes would of itself be sufficient to separate the two genera, were there not also other distinctions. The Divers, moreover, live on the sea during the greater part of the year, and resort to ponds, lakes, or the borders of rivers to breed; whilst the Grebes spend most of their time on inland lakes, marshes, and streams. Immediately after the breeding season, as soon as the young are able to fly, the families of Divers make their way to the arms and inlets of the sea, rarely entering the fresh waters until the following spring.

The Red-throated Diver is at all times an extremely shy and vigilant bird, ever on the alert to elude its numerous enemies. The sight of man seems invariably to alarm it, even in the wildest countries in which it breeds. I have often observed that, while yet several hundred yards from them, they marked my approach with great watchfulness. First they would dive and make their way to the farther end of the pond, after which, with outstretched necks, they would remain silent and motionless, until I approached within about a hundred yards, when, instead of diving again, as the Loon always does, they at once, with a single spring, rose from the water, and ere I had proceeded a few yards, they were already eight or ten feet above it. If I crept towards them through the tangled mosses or shrubs, they would swim about with their heads elevated, as if determined to make their escape on the appearance of imminent danger. In many instances, my party observed this species in small flocks of five or six in the same lake, when it happened to be of considerable extent; and as this was during the height of the breeding season, we concluded that these associated birds were barren, as I ascertained that males and females, when once paired, remain together until their young are able to fly, when they part company, until the next pairing season, which is about the first of March.

This species begins to breed in Labrador in the beginning of June, and about a fortnight earlier along the Bay of Fundy. The numerous nests which our party found in the former district were all placed on small sequestered islands in the middle of lakes or large ponds of fresh water, rarely more than one mile distant from the sea-shore. These nests consisted merely of a few blades of rank grasses loosely put together, and were quite flat, without any down to warm or conceal the eggs at any period of incubation. The nest was placed within a few feet of the water, and well-beaten tracks, such as are made by otters, led to it. Whenever the birds went to this spot they walked nearly erect in an awkward manner, but when they sat in their nest they laid themselves flat on the eggs, in the manner of a Goose or Duck. In no instance did they alight on the islands, but always on the water, at some distance, when, after examining all around them for a while, they crawled silently out, and moved to the spot which contained their treasure.

Having been told that the Red-throated Diver covers its eggs with down in the manner of many ducks, I was surprised to find the assertion incorrect, and having killed several individuals during the period of incubation and immediately after it, I carefully examined them, and found all of them fully covered with down, they being, in this respect, quite different from the Eider Duck, the Velvet Duck, the Harlequin Duck, and other species of that family, nay even from the Black Guillemot, of which I shall speak in the present volume. Probably it is on account of those birds breeding much farther north, that, according to Dr Richardson, they there line their nest with down. We also found the Colymbus glacialis incubating without any in its nest. The idea generally entertained that this species never lays more than two eggs I found equally incorrect, for of five nests, two contained two eggs each, two had three each, and the fifth had three young birds. The eggs measure 3 inches in length by 1 3/4 in breadth, and are of an elongated elliptical form, nearly equally rounded at both ends; they are of a deep olive-brown colour, irregularly marked with spots of a darker dull brown. The male incubates as well as the female, and both are extremely solicitous about the safety of their young, which betake themselves to the water on the day succeeding that of their escape from the egg, and are from the first most expert swimmers and divers. Two of the young were shot by Captain Emery, having been easily approached in the absence of their parents, at which he had shot without success, they not having yet learned from experience the danger of the proximity of man. They dived beautifully, and swam with great buoyancy, inclining their necks forwards, in the manner of the old birds. This was on the 5th July 1833. On the 15th of the same month, Thomas Lincoln and my son John Woodhouse, saw several young ones, which, although quite small, were equally expert at diving. When swimming by the side of their mother they floated high, with the neck quite erect, while the old bird swam deep, with her neck inclined forward. When the little ones dived, they moved under the water like so many turtles, and at last were caught on the bottom of the pond, which was small and shallow, by placing the gun-rods upon them. So averse from moving are the old birds when sitting on their eggs, that they will not bestir themselves until in imminent danger, on which, however, they scramble to the water, dive, and, on emerging, immediately rise on wing without uttering any note. The male only is noisy on such occasions, and more especially when it returns from afar to its mate, when it evinces its satisfaction by calling aloud, as it repeatedly passes and repasses over the spot, and then alights in a pompous manner on the water.

The sexes differ materially in size, the male birds being much larger than the females, and weighing at an average fully a pound more. These birds are extremely tenacious of life. One which my son shot on the wing fell, dived instantly, and swam to a considerable distance under water, but returned to the surface, back downwards, and quite dead.

The notes of the Red-throated Diver are harsh and rather loud; they resemble the syllables cac, cac, cac, carah, carah, enounced in rapid succession. In some instances the young men of my party found that the most successful method of approaching these birds whilst on the water, was to run as fast as possible towards them and shout loudly, for on such occasions the birds dived instead of flying at once, and on emerging again, afforded them much better chances as they took to wing. At certain times, when approached while they have young, they utter a soft plaintive note, which evidently conveys to their offspring their wish that they should remain quiet in their hiding-places.

The Red-throated Diver does not acquire the full beauty of its plumage until its fourth year. The young are at first covered with thick hairy down, of a blackish colour, inclining to brown. Before they are fully able to fly, this is changed into a dull grey on the upper parts, thickly sprinkled with white dots on the extremity of each feather, the lower parts being of a sullied white. During the second year these tints are firmer, there are fewer spots above, and the texture of the lower parts is more silky. In the third, both sexes assume the fine grey of the hind-neck, with its longitudinal white stripes, and here and there a few spots of red on the lower part of the throat. The next spring their plumage is perfect.

I have never observed any of these birds on our inland lakes or rivers. In the neighbourhood of Boston, and along the Bay of Fundy, they are best known by the names of “Scape-grace” and “Cape-racer.” By the 9th of August the young birds had left the fresh-water lakes and ponds for the bays on the coast, and we were informed by the settlers, both in Newfoundland and Labrador, that, by the last days of September, none were to be found in those countries.

The dislike which this species shews to fresh-water after the breeding-season is such, that they are rarely seen in the upper part of large bays, but prefer for their winter residence the shores of sea-islands and barren rocks. Thus, at that season, they are met with about the outer islands of the Bay of Fundy, and those along our eastern coast.

While in fresh water, the Red-throated Diver feeds principally on small fish, shrimps, leeches, snails, and aquatic insects. The masses of feather-like substances often found in the stomachs of Grebes, I have never met with in this species. Its flesh is oily, tough, dark-coloured, and disagreeable to the taste, although I saw some Mountain Indians feeding upon it at Labrador with apparent pleasure.

Colymbus septentrionalis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 220.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 801.—Ch. Bonap. Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 421.

Red-throated Diver, Colymbus septentrionalis, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 476.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 519.

Adult Male in summer. Plate CCII. Fig. 1.

Bill as long as the head, slender but strong, straight, rather compressed, tapering to a point. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight, the ridge convex, as are the sides, the edges sharp and involute; nasal groove basal, short; nostrils basal, lateral, direct, oblong, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow and extending beyond the middle, the dorsal line straight and sloping upwards to the point, the ridge convex, but narrower than that of the upper mandible, the edges sharp and involute; the point of both mandibles rather sharp.

Head of moderate size, oblong, narrowed before. Neck rather long and slender. Eyes rather small. Body elongated, somewhat depressed. Wings small. Feet short, rather large, placed very far back; tibia almost entirely concealed; tarsus short, exceedingly compressed, sharp-edged before and behind, covered all over with reticulated angular scales; hind toe extremely small, connected with the second by a very small membrane; the anterior toes united by reticulated membranes, the fourth longest, the third a little shorter, the second considerably shorter than the third; all covered anteriorly with very narrow transverse scutella, the second toe with a free two-lobed membrane; claws very small, depressed, rounded.

Plumage short and dense; of the head and neck very short, blended; of the lower parts blended, short, and with a silky gloss; of the upper slightly glossed and somewhat compact; the feathers in general oblong and rounded. Wings proportionally very small and narrow, curved; primaries strong, tapering, first longest, second almost as long, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries broad, rounded. Tail extremely short, rounded, of twenty rounded feathers.

Bill bluish-black. Iris deep bright red. Feet brownish-black, the anterior edge of the tarsus, the upper surface of the toes, the claws, and part of the webs, pale livid flesh-colour. Fore part and sides of the head, throat, and sides of the neck, of a fine bluish-grey; fore part of the neck rich brownish-red; hind part of the head and hind neck longitudinally streaked with greenish-black and pure white, each feather black in the middle, with the sides white, the colours disposed in lines. The upper surface brownish-black, tinged with green, more or less mottled with white according to age, excepting the primary quills and the tail-feathers, the latter of which are merely paler at the end. The whole under surface pure white, excepting the feathers on the sides under the wings, some of those about the vent, and the lower tail-coverts, which are greyish-brown, with white margins and tips.

Length to end of tail 25 1/2 inches, to end of claws 27, extent of wings 43 1/12; bill 2 2/12; gape 3 3/8; tarsus 3, fourth toe and claw 3 3/4; wing from flexure 11 3/4, tail 3. Weight 4 lb.

Adult Female in summer. Plate CCII. Fig. 3.

The female is precisely similar to the male in form and colouring, but is considerably smaller.

Length to end of tail 25 inches, to end of claws 28 1/12; extent of wings 43. Weight 3 lb.

Male in winter immature. Plate CCII. Fig. 2.

In this state the principal differences are the following:—The fore part of the neck, instead of being of a uniform rich brownish-red, is merely mottled with that colour; all the feathers of the upper surface have each two white spots towards the end; the tail-feathers are edged and terminated with white; the colouring in general is somewhat less pure and deep, and the bill is of a much paler tint.

Young bird unfledged. Plate CCII. Fig. 4.

The young are at first covered with a dense elastic down of a greyish black colour, tinged with brown. The bill is bluish-black, its basal edges yellow; the iris reddish-brown.

THE GREAT RED-BREASTED RAIL, OR FRESHWATER MARSH-HEN.

Rallus elegans.
PLATE CCIII. Male and Young.

No doubt exists in my mind that Wilson considered this beautiful bird as merely the adult of Rallus crepitans, the manners of which he described, as studied at Great Egg Harbour in New Jersey, while he gave in his works the figure and colouring of the present species. My friend Thomas Nuttall has done the same, without, I apprehend, having seen the two birds together. Always unwilling to find faults in so ardent a student of nature as Wilson, I felt almost mortified when, after having, in the company of my worthy and learned friend, the Reverend John Bachman, carefully examined the habits of both species, which, in form and general appearance, are closely allied, I discovered the error which he had in this instance committed. Independently of the great difference as to size between the two species, there are circumstances connected with their habits which mark them as distinct. The Rallus elegans is altogether a fresh-water bird, while the R. crepitans never removes from the salt-water marshes, that are met with along our eastern Atlantic coasts, from the Jerseys to the Gulf of Mexico. Nay, the present species is found at considerable distances inland, where it breeds and spends the whole year; whereas the latter never goes farther from its maritime haunts than the borders of the salt-marshes, and this merely on certain occasions, when driven thither by the high risings of tides. The Fresh-water Marsh-hen, besides, is confined to the Southern States, a few stragglers only having been observed farther eastward than the State of Pennsylvania, and these only in fresh-water meadows.

So long ago as the year 1810, on the 29th May, I caught one of these birds, a female, at Henderson, in the State of Kentucky, when I made the following memorandum respecting it:—“It is an excessively shy bird, runs with great celerity, and when caught, cries like a common fowl.” It weighed eleven ounces avoirdupois; its total length was 20 1/2 inches, and its alar extent 22.

This species constantly resides in the fresh-water marshes and ponds in the interior of South Carolina, Georgia, the Floridas, and Louisiana, from which a few migrate, and probably breed as far to the eastward as the wet meadows of the Delaware and Schuylkil rivers, in the vicinity of which I killed one female in New Jersey, a few miles from Camden, in July 1832, in company with my friends Edward Harris and Mr Ogden, of that city. On inquiring of numerous hunters, I was told by several of them that they now and then obtained a few of these birds, which they considered as very rare, and knew only by the name of “King Rails.” On recently examining the museums of our eastern cities my friend John Bachman saw only one specimen; and Mr William Cooper of New York assured him that he had never seen any other individuals than those sent to him from Charleston. Mr Bachman was present at the killing of a specimen near Philadelphia, which was considered as a very old individual of the Rallus crepitans. In Louisiana, the Creoles know this bird by the name of Grand Râle de Prairie.

As the Fresh-water Marsh-Hen is abundant in South Carolina, I shall attempt to describe its habits as observed in that State, both by myself and by my friend John Bachman, of whose notes, delivered to me for the purpose, I shall make free use. “Although not nearly so numerous as the other species, they are not rare in that country, in certain favourable situations. Wherever there are extensive marshes by the sides of sluggish streams, where the bellowings of the alligator are heard at intervals, and the pipings of myriads of frogs fill the air, there is found the Fresh-water Marsh-hen, and there it may be seen gliding swiftly among the tangled rank grasses and aquatic weeds, or standing on the broad leaves of the yellow Cyamus and fragrant Water-lily, or forcing its way through the dense foliage of Pontederiæ; and Sagittariæ. There, during the sickly season, it remains secure from the search of man, and there, on some hillock or little island of the marsh, it builds its nest. In such places I have found so many as twenty pairs breeding within a space having a diameter of thirty yards. The nests were placed on the ground, and raised to the height of six or eight inches by means of withered weeds and grasses. The number of eggs was nine or ten. About the middle of March I found a few nests containing two or three eggs each; but, in my opinion, the greater number of these birds commence breeding about the middle of April. They appear to repair their nests from time to time, and to return to them several years in succession.”

The young, which are at first black, leave the nest as soon as they burst the shell, and follow their mother, who leads them along the borders of the streams and pools, where they find abundance of food, consisting of grass-seeds, insects, tadpoles, leeches, and small crayfish. At this early period, when running among the grass, which they do with great activity, they may easily be mistaken for meadow-mice. My friend Bachman, who had several times attempted to raise these birds, with the view of domesticating them, did not succeed, principally, he thinks, on account of the difficulty of procuring enough of their accustomed food. They all died in a few days, although the greatest attention was paid to them.

When grown they feed on a variety of substances, and it has appeared to me that they eat a much greater proportion of seeds and other vegetable matters than the Salt-water Marsh-Hens. It is true, however, that, in the gizzard of the latter we find portions of the Spartina glabra; but when that kind of food is not to be procured, which is the case during three-fourths of the year, they feed principally on “Fiddlers,” small fish, and mollusca. In the gizzard of the present species, besides the food already mentioned, I have always found a much greater quantity of the seeds of such grasses as grow in the places frequented by them. On one occasion I found the gizzard crammed with seeds of the cane (Arundo tecta); and that of another contained a large quantity of the seed of the common oat, which had evidently been picked up on a newly sown field adjoining to the marsh. In autumn I have killed this species in cornfields, in the company of John Bachman, Paul H. Lees, Esq. and others. These birds are rarely shot by common gunners, on account of the difficulty of raising them, and because they generally confine themselves to places so swampy and covered with briars, smilaxes, and rough weeds, that they are scarcely accessible. But although they are thus safe from man, they are not without numerous enemies.

My friend Bachman once killed a large Moccasin snake, on opening which he found an old bird of this species, that had evidently been swallowed but a short time before. Its feathers are frequently found lying on the banks of rice-fields, ponds, and lagoons, in places where the tracks of the minx plainly disclose the plunderer. The Barred Owl and the Great Horned Owl also occasionally succeed in capturing them in the dusk. “On one occasion,” says my friend Bachman, in a note addressed to me, “while placed on a stand for deer, I saw a wild cat creeping through a marsh that was near to me, evidently following by stealthy steps something that he was desirous of making his prey. Presently he made a sudden pounce into a bunch of grass, when I immediately heard the piercing cries of the Marsh-Hen, and shortly after came passing by me the successful murderer with the bird in his mouth.”

“In seasons of great drought, when the marshes which are their favourite haunts become dry, these birds have been known entirely to disappear from the neighbourhood, and not to return until after heavy rains, having in the mean time, no doubt, retired to the shores of the larger and deeper ponds of the swamps of the interior.”

The young of this species acquire the redness of their plumage during the first summer, and increase in size and beauty for several years, without experiencing any change in their colouring after the spring following that of their birth. The sexes are scarcely distinguishable otherwise than by the difference of size, the males being considerably larger than the females. I am not aware that this species raises more than one brood in the season, although, when its eggs have been destroyed, it may lay a second time.

The flight of this Rail resembles that of the salt-water kind, but is considerably stronger and more protracted. When suddenly flushed, they rise and go off with a chuck, their legs dangling beneath, and generally proceed in a straight line for some distance, after which they drop among the thickest grass, and run off with surprising speed. In several instances they have been known to stand before a careful pointer. They are less apt to take to the water than the Rallus crepitans, and are by no means so expert at diving. Their number does not appear to be diminished in winter by any migratory movements. Their cries, which do not differ much from those of the other species, are less frequently repeated after the breeding season.

Few birds afford better food than this species: during autumn, when, feeding chiefly on grass seeds, they are juicy and tender; in spring, however, they are less delicate. Their superiority in size over all other birds of the genus that occur in the United States, renders them valuable game to the knowing sportsman and epicure. Their eggs also are excellent as food, being much preferable to those of the common fowl.

I regret that I am obliged to conclude this account, without being able to describe the eggs, which, although well known to my friend John Bachman, have not yet come under my inspection, but which I trust I shall have an opportunity of figuring in the concluding plates of my work.

Great Red-breasted Rail, or Fresh-water Marsh Hen.

Rallus elegans.

Adult Male. Plate CCIII. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, slender, compressed, very slightly curved, deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight until towards the end, where it is slightly curved, the ridge flattish at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, convex towards the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed.

Head small, oblong, much compressed. Neck long and slender. Body slender, much compressed. Feet long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus rather long, strong, compressed, anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated; hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath; claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat, and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact and glossed on the upper parts. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended; of the forehead with the shaft enlarged, and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering but obtuse, third longest, second scarcely shorter, first and seventh about equal; secondaries weak, broad, rounded. Tail very short, much rounded, of twelve feeble rounded feathers; the upper and lower coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Lower mandible and edges of upper brownish-yellow; ridge of upper, and tips of both, deep brown. Iris bright red. Feet yellowish-brown, tinged with olive; claws of the same colour. Upper part of head and hind neck dull brown, the bristle-like shafts of the frontal feathers brownish-black; a brownish-orange line from the bill over the eye; a broader band of the same colour from the lower mandible, the intermediate space dusky; chin white. The upper parts in general are streaked with brownish-black and light olive-brown, the two sides of each feather being of the latter colour. Wing-coverts dull chestnut, most of them irregularly tipped with brownish-white. Alula and primaries deep olive-brown; secondaries and tail-feathers like the back. Sides and fore part of the neck, and greater part of the breast, bright orange-brown; sides and lower wing-coverts undulated with deep brown and greyish-white; tibial feathers pale greyish-brown, faintly barred with darker, as is the hind part of the abdomen, the fore part being uniform pale greyish-brown; lateral lower tail-coverts white, each with a blackish-brown spot near the end; those in the middle barred with black and white.

Length to end of tail 19 inches, to end of claws 26, extent of wings 25; bill 2 5/6; tarsus 2 1/2, middle toe and claw 2 10/12; wing from flexure 7, tail 2 1/2. Weight 1 lb. 9 oz.

Adult Female.

The female, which is smaller, is similar to the male, but has the tints somewhat duller.

Length to end of tail 18 inches, to end of claws 22 1/2, extent of wings 24. Weight 1 lb. 2 oz.

Young in autumn. Plate CCIII. Fig. 2.

The young in autumn and fully fledged resemble the female, but are duller in their colours.

THE CLAPPER RAIL, OR SALT-WATER MARSH-HEN.

Rallus crepitans, Gmel.
PLATE CCIV. Male and Female.

Although this species is a constant resident, and extremely abundant along the salt marshes and reedy sea islands of South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, and Louisiana, to the mouths of the Mississippi, and probably farther south, at all seasons of the year, it leaves these districts in considerable numbers in spring, and extends its movements along the Atlantic shores as far as the Middle States. They confine themselves entirely to the salt-marshes in the immediate vicinity of the Atlantic, the islands and the channels between them and the main shores, but are never seen inland or on fresh waters, unless when, during high tides, they remove to the margins of the main, where, indeed, during heavy gales and high seas, these poor birds are forced to take refuge, in order to escape the destructive fury of the tempest that, notwithstanding their utmost exertions, destroys great numbers of them. On all such occasions the birds appear greatly intimidated and stupified, and as if out of their proper element. Those individuals which leave the south for a season, reach the shores of New Jersey about the middle of April, and return to the southern States about the beginning of October, to spend the winter along with their young, after which period none are to be found in the Middle Districts. Few if any ever go beyond Long Island in the State of New York; at least I have never seen or heard of one farther east. Their migrations take place under night, and in perfect silence; but the moment they arrive at their destination, they announce their presence by a continuation of loud cacklings, meant no doubt as an expression of their joy. Having studied the habits of these interesting birds in the Jerseys, in South Carolina, and in the Floridas, on the maritime borders of all of which they breed, I shall here attempt to describe them.

In these countries, from about the beginning of March to that of April, the salt-marshes resound with the cries of the Clapper Rail, which resemble the syllables cac, cac, cac, cac, cā, cāhā, cāhā. The commencement of the cry, which is heard quite as frequently during day as by night, is extremely loud and rapid, its termination lower and protracted. At the report of a gun, when thousands of these birds instantaneously burst forth with their cries, you may imagine what an uproar they make. This bird seems to possess the power of ventriloquism, for, when several hundred yards off, its voice often seems to be issuing from the grass around you. At this period, the males are very pugnacious, and combats are rife until each has selected a female for the season. The males stand erect and cry aloud the least sound they hear, guard their mates, and continue faithfully to protect them until the young make their appearance. These come more under the care of the mother, who leads them about until they have attained a considerable size, and are able to shift for themselves. The nest is large, constructed of marsh plants, and fastened to the stems in the midst of the thickest tufts, above high-water mark. The materials of which it is formed are so well interlaced with the plants around them, as to prevent their being washed away by extraordinarily high tides, which, however, sometimes carry off and destroy the eggs, as well as many of the sitting birds, whose attachment to them is so great, that they are now and then drowned while endeavouring to keep them safe. The nest is very deep, so that the eggs seem placed in the bottom of a bowl or funnel. They are from eight to fifteen in number, measure an inch and a half in length by one and an eighth in breadth, and have a pale buff colour, sparingly sprinkled with light umber and purplish spots. The period of incubation is fourteen days. When undisturbed, this species lays only one set of eggs in the season; but as the eggs are in request as a delicious article of food, they are gathered in great numbers, and I myself have collected so many as seventy-two dozens in the course of a day. The nest is generally open at top, and then is very easily discovered, although sometimes the reeds are so arranged about them as to conceal them from the view. When the birds are sitting, they suffer you to approach within a few feet; but, as if aware of your intention, they glide away in silence to some distance, and remain crouched among the grass until you have retired. When, on returning, the poor bird finds that her treasure has been stolen, she immediately proclaims her grief aloud, and in this is joined by her faithful mate. In a few days, however, more eggs are deposited, although, I believe, never in the same nest. This species may be called gregarious, yet the nests are seldom nearer to each other than five or ten yards. They are placed in the thickest and most elevated tufts of grass, principally near the edges of the many lagoons that everywhere intersect the sea marshes, so that a man may go from one to another, finding them with ease as he proceeds along the muddy shores. In the Jerseys, it forms almost a regular occupation to collect the eggs of this bird, and there I have seen twenty or more persons gathering them by thousands during the season; in fact, it is not an uncommon occurrence for an egger to carry home a hundred dozens in a day; and when this havock is continued upwards of a month, you may imagine its extent. The abundance of the birds themselves is almost beyond belief; but if you suppose a series of salt marshes twenty miles in length, and a mile in breadth, while at every eight or ten steps one or two birds may be met with, you may calculate their probable number.

During ebb, the Clapper Rail advances towards the edge of the waters as they recede, and searches, either among the grasses, or along the deep furrows made by the ebb and flow of the tides, for its food, which consists principally of small crabs, a species of salt-water snail attached to the rushes, the fry of fishes, aquatic insects, and plants. When the tide flows, they gradually return, and at high-water they resort to the banks, where they remain concealed until the waters begin to retreat. This species is by no means exclusively nocturnal, for it moves about in search of food during the whole of the day, in this respect resembling the Gallinules. Their courage is now and then brought to the test by the sudden approach of some of their winged enemies, such as a Hawk or an Owl, especially the Marsh Hawk, which is often attacked by them while sailing low over the grass in which they are commonly concealed. On such occasions, the Rail rises a few yards in the air, strikes at the marauder with bill and claws, screaming aloud all the while, and dives again among the grass, to the astonishment of the bird of prey, which usually moves off at full speed. They are not so fortunate in their encounters with such hawks as pounce from on high on their prey, such as the Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks, against which they have no chance of defending themselves. Minxes, racoons, and wild cats destroy a great number of them during night, and many are devoured by turtles and ravenous fishes; but their worst enemy is man. My friend Bachman has shot so many as sixty in the course of four hours, and others have killed double that number in double the time.

The Salt-water Marsh Hen swims with considerable ease, though not swiftly or gracefully. While in this act, it extends its neck forward, and strikes the water with its feet, as if unwilling to move far at a time, the motion of its neck resembling that of the Gallinules. It dives well, remains a considerable time under water, and in this manner dexterously eludes its pursuers, although it certainly does not possess the power of holding fast to the bottom, as some persons have alleged. When hard pressed, it often sinks just below the surface, keeping the bill above in order to breathe, and in this position, if not detected, remains for a considerable time. If perceived and approached, it instantly dives, and uses its wings to accelerate its progress, but rises as soon as it comes to a place of safety.

Their movements on the ground, or over the partially submersed or floating beds of weeds, are extremely rapid, and they run swiftly off before a dog, the utmost exertions of which are required to force them on wing. Such an attempt by man would prove utterly futile, unless he were to come upon them unawares. When not pursued, and feeling secure, they walk in a deliberate manner, the body considerably inclined, now and then jerking the tail upwards, although by no means so frequently as Gallinules are wont to do. On the least appearance of danger, they lower the head, stretch out the neck, and move off with incomparable speed, always in perfect silence. They have thousands of paths among the rank herbage, crossing each other so often that they can very easily escape pursuit; and besides, they have a power of compressing their body to such a degree, as frequently to force a passage between two stems so close, that one could hardly believe it possible for them to squeeze themselves through. When put up, they fly slowly and generally straight before you, with their legs dangling, so that they are very easily shot by a quick sportsman, as they rarely fly far at a time on such occasions, but prefer pitching down again into the first tuft of rank grass in their way. When on their migrations, however, they pass low and swiftly over the marshes, or the water, stretched to their full extent, and with a constant beat of the wings.

The young, which are at first covered with down of a black colour, obtain their full plumage before the winter arrives, and after this undergo little change of colour, although they increase in size for a year after. In the Eastern States, this species is not held in much estimation as an article of food, perhaps in a great measure on account of the quantity of Soras met with there during early autumn, and which are certainly more delicate; but in the Southern States, especially during winter, they are considered good for the table, and a great number are killed and offered for sale in the markets. Numbers are destroyed by torch light, which so dazzles their eyes, as to enable persons fond of the sport to knock them down with poles or paddles during high tides. It is by day, however, that they are usually shot, and as this kind of sport is exceedingly pleasant, I will attempt to describe it.

About Charleston, in South Carolina, the shooting of Marsh Hens takes place from September to February, a few days in each month during the spring-tides. A light skiff or canoe is procured, the latter being much preferable, and paddled by one or two experienced persons, the sportsman standing in the bow, and his friend, if he has one with him, taking his station in the stern. At an early hour they proceed to the marshes, amid many boats containing parties on the same errand. There is no lack of shooting-grounds, for every creek of salt-water swarms with Marsh Hens. The sportsman who leads has already discharged his barrels, and on either side of his canoe a bird has fallen. As the boat moves swiftly towards them, more are raised, and although he may not be ready, the safety of the bird is in imminent jeopardy, for now from another bark double reports are heard in succession. The tide is advancing apace, the boats merely float along, and the birds, driven from place to place, seek in vain for safety. Here, on a floating mass of tangled weeds, stand a small group side by side. The gunner has marked them, and presently nearly the whole covey is prostrated. Now, onward to that great bunch of tall grass all the boats are seen to steer; shot after shot flies in rapid succession; dead and dying lie all around on the water; the terrified survivors are trying to save their lives by hurried flight; but their efforts are unavailing,—one by one they fall, to rise no more. It is a sorrowful sight, after all: see that poor thing gasping hard in the agonies of death, its legs quivering with convulsive twitches, its bright eyes fading into glazed obscurity. In a few hours, hundreds have ceased to breathe the breath of life; hundreds that erst revelled in the joys of careless existence, but which can never behold their beloved marshes again. The cruel sportsman, covered with mud and mire, drenched to the skin by the splashing of the paddles, his face and hands besmeared with powder, stands amid the wreck which he has made, exultingly surveys his slaughtered heaps, and with joyous feelings returns home with a cargo of game more than enough for a family thrice as numerous as his own. How joyful must be the congratulations of those which have escaped, without injury to themselves or their relatives! With what pleasure, perhaps, have some of them observed the gun of one of their murderers, or the powder-flask of another, fall overboard! How delighted have they been to see a canoe overturned by an awkward movement, and their enemies struggling to reach the shore, or sticking fast in the mud! Nor have the minx and racoon come off well, for notwithstanding the expertness of the former at diving, and the cunning of the latter, many have been shot, and the boatmen intend to make caps of their fur.

In the Carolinas there are some most expert marksmen, of whom I know two who probably were never surpassed. One of them I have seen shoot fifty Marsh-Hens at fifty successive shots, and the other, I am assured, has killed a hundred without missing one. I have heard or read of a French king, who, on starting a partridge, could take a pinch of snuff, then point his gun, and shoot the bird; but whether this be true or not I cannot say, although I have witnessed as remarkable a feat, for I have seen a Carolinian, furnished with two guns, shoot at and kill four Marsh-Hens as they flew off at once around him! On speaking once to a friend of the cruelty of destroying so many of these birds, he answered me as follows:—“It gives variety to life; it is good exercise, and in all cases affords a capital dinner, besides the pleasure I feel when sending a mess of Marsh-Hens to a friend such as you.”

Rallus crepitans, Gmel. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 713.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 756.

Clapper Rail, Rallus crepitans, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 112, but not the figure, which is that of the preceding species.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 201.

Adult Male. Plate CCIV. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, slender, compressed, slightly curved, rather deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight until towards the end, where it is slightly curved, the ridge slightly flattened for a short space at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, narrow and convex to the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed.

Head small, oblong, much compressed. Neck long and slender. Body slender, much compressed. Feet long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus of moderate length, strong, compressed, and anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated. Hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath. Claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact and glossed on the upper parts. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended, of the forehead with the shaft enlarged and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering, but obtuse, third longest, second scarcely shorter, first and seventh about equal; secondaries weak, broad, rounded. Tail extremely short, much rounded, of twelve feeble, rounded feathers; the upper and lower coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Lower mandible and edges of upper yellowish-brown; ridge of upper and tips of both deep brown. Iris pale yellow. Feet pale livid grey, tinged with orange about the tibio-tarsal joint; claws dusky. Upper part of the head and hind neck dull brown, the bristle-like shafts of the frontal feathers brownish-black; a pale brownish-orange line from the bill over the eye; loral space and sides of the head dull bluish-grey, the two sides of each feather being of the latter colour. Wing-coverts dull olive, tinged with grey, some of them with slight irregular whitish markings; alula and primaries olive-brown; secondaries and tail feathers like the back. Chin yellowish-white, edged on either side with pale yellowish-brown; sides and fore part of the neck bluish-grey, tinged more especially before with dull pale yellowish-brown; the fore part of the breast of the latter colour. Lower wing-coverts, sides, hind part of abdomen, and middle lower tail-coverts undulated with deep greyish-brown and greyish-white, lateral tail-coverts with the outer webs white; tibial feathers similarly barred, but paler, middle of the abdomen greyish-white.

Length to end of tail 15 inches, to end of claws 20, extent of wings 20 3/4; bill 2 5/8; tarsus 2, middle-toe and claw 2 5/12; wing from flexure 6 2/12; tail 2 5/8. Weight 11 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCIV. Fig. 2.

The Female, which is smaller than the male, is similar in colouring, but has the tints somewhat duller.

Length to end of tail 14 inches, to end of claws 17 3/4; extent of wings 19 1/4. Weight 7 3/4 oz.

THE VIRGINIAN RAIL.

Rallus virginianus, Linn.
PLATE CCV. Male, Female, and Young.

This species, which, although smaller, bears a great resemblance to the Great Red-breasted Rail or Fresh-water Marsh-Hen, is met with in most parts of the United States at different seasons. Many spend the winter within our southern limits, and I have found them at that time in Lower Louisiana, the Floridas, Georgia, and the Carolinas. In the Western country some have been known to remain until severe frost came on, and there they usually stay to a much later period than in our Middle Districts, from which they generally retire southward in the beginning of October. During spring and summer, I observed some in different places from the shores of the Wabash River in Illinois, to those of the St John’s in the British province of New Brunswick. In the latter district, they were considered extremely rare birds by the inhabitants, some of whom brought me a few as great curiosities. Farther north, I neither saw nor heard of any; but on the borders of Lakes Erie and Michigan, they breed in considerable numbers, as well as near our maritime districts.

In its habits the Rallus virginianus is intermediate between the R. crepitans and R. carolinus: it obtains its food as well in salt-water marshes, as in fresh meadows, watery savannahs, and the borders of ponds and rivers. The latter situations, however, seem to suit it best during summer; but whenever both kinds of places are combined, or near each other, there you are sure to meet with it.

The time of breeding varies according to the latitude of the place. I have found the female sitting on her eggs in the beginning of March, a few miles from New Orleans; in that of April in Kentucky, near Henderson; about a fortnight later near Vincennes, in Illinois; and from the 10th of May to the middle of June, in the Middle and Eastern States. The males usually arrive at the breeding-places a week or ten days before the females. They travel silently and by night, as I have ascertained by observing them proceed singly and in a direct course, at a height of only a few feet, over our broad rivers, or over level land, when their speed is such as is never manifested by them under ordinary circumstances. Their movements can be easily traced for fifty yards or so during nights of brilliant moonshine, when you see them passing with a constant beat of the wings, in the manner of a Green-winged Teal. As soon as they arrive at their destination, they may be heard emitting their cries about sunset, occasionally through the night, and again with increased vigour at the dawn of day, as if expressing their impatience for the arrival of their companions. The love-notes of this species have some resemblance to those of the Clapper Rail, but now and then are changed for others something like crek, crek, creek, or creek, creek, creek. Being expert ventriloquists, like their congeners, they sometimes seem to be far off, when in fact they are within a few yards of you. One morning I had the good fortune to witness their amatory gestures, which I will here try to describe, that you may in some degree participate in the amusement which the scene afforded me.

The sun had scarcely begun to send his horizontal rays over the lake, on the margin of which I stood, revolving in my mind the many enjoyments which the Author of nature has benignantly accorded to his creatures. The air was clear and serene, and the waters spread before me without a ruffle on their surface. The notes of the Rail came loudly on my ear, and on moving towards the spot whence they proceeded, I observed the bird exhibiting the full ardour of his passion. Now with open wings raised over its body, it ran around its beloved, opening and flirting its tail with singular speed. Each time it passed before her, it would pause for a moment, raise itself to the full stretch of its body and legs, and bow to her with all the grace of a well-bred suitor of our own species. The female also bowed in recognition, and at last, as the male came nearer and nearer in his circuits, yielded to his wishes, on which the pair flew off in the manner of house-pigeons, sailing and balancing their bodies on open wings until out of sight. During this exhibition, the male emitted a mellow note, resembling the syllables cuckoe, cuckoe, to which the female responded with the kind of lisping sound uttered by young birds of the species when newly hatched.

Excepting our Little Partridge, I know no bird so swift of foot as the Virginian Rail. In fact, I doubt if it would be an easy matter for an active man to outstrip one of them on plain ground; and to trust to one’s speed for raising one among the thick herbage to which they usually resort, would certainly prove fallacious. There they run to a short distance, then tack about, and again scud away in a lateral direction, so as to elude the best dog, or if likely to be overtaken, rise on wing, fly with dangling legs eight or ten yards, drop among the weeds, and run off as swiftly as before. Notwithstanding all this, I managed to secure a good number of them by means of a partridge net, setting the wings of that apparatus at very obtuse angles, and calling them by imitating the lisping notes of the female from some distance beyond the bag of the net. Now and then I found them too cunning for me, as, on discovering that the wings of the net were in their way, they would get over it in the same manner as that in which a sailor mounts the shrouds of a ship. Our Common Coot uses the same artifice, as I shall elsewhere describe.

The nest of the Virginian Rail is not easily found after incubation has commenced, for then the male, contrary to the habits of most birds, becomes comparatively silent, and the female quite mute. At such times I have once or twice almost trodden on one, which I should never have discovered, had not the poor bird fluttered off in despair, employing all the artifices used by other species on such occasions. It is placed on a small elevation formed by the accumulation of the stalks of a large bunch of grasses, in the centre of which some dry weeds are arranged to the height of two or three inches, with a very shallow cavity. The eggs are four or five, seldom more than six or seven, and resemble in colour those of the Rallus crepitans, although smaller, measuring an inch and a quarter in length, by eleven-twelfths in breadth, and being rather more rounded. The young are covered with a jet black down, and run after their mother as soon as they make their escape from the egg;—at least I suppose this to be the case, on account of my having caught some that seemed newly hatched. The mother leads them with the greatest care among the long grass of the damp meadows, or the weeds growing near the ponds, to which they resort at all times, and particularly near the margins of pools or muddy streams, into which they run and disperse on the least appearance of danger. When no water is near, the little ones squat in silence, and await the call of their parent, to which all at once answer, when they quickly collect once more around her.

This species is able to cling to, and climb along the blades of tall grasses, even under water, when in danger, and is equally able to swim gracefully to a considerable distance, as to alight on low bushes, in which situation I have shot a few of them. When amid the broad leaves of water-lilies, they walk and run on them with as much ease as the Gallinules; and I would be inclined to assign them an intermediate station between the genera Rallus and Crex, as they partake of the habits of both. When pursued, the Virginian Rail is, with great difficulty, put up, as I have already mentioned, but when it is once on wing it may be shot by a very ordinary gunner. It rises without noise, flies off with its legs dangling and its neck stretched out, but seldom proceeds farther than twenty or thirty yards at a time, unless when it has a stream to cross, or during its migrations. Like all the other species with which I am acquainted, it feeds both by day and by night. Its food consists of small slugs, snails, aquatic insects, worms, crustacea, and the seeds of those grasses which grow in salt or fresh water marshes, in either of which they reside and even breed. I have not been able to ascertain whether they lay more than once in the season; but, on account of the comparatively small number of this species, I am inclined to suppose that they seldom raise more than one brood, unless their eggs have been destroyed, whether by inundation or otherwise.

The Virginian Rail is not without enemies; and, although it manifests a good deal of courage, and at times acts towards the Marsh Hawk in the same manner as the Rallus crepitans, it seldom succeeds in its attempts, and on several occasions I have seen that bird seize them as they attempted to strike it with their bill and claws for the purpose of driving it away. The minx, the garfish, the snapping turtle, and sometimes eels, destroy them, as well as the Sora Rail.

Whilst at Charleston in South Carolina, I frequently saw little strings of these birds exposed in the market, at a very low price; and they are excellent eating during autumn and winter. Their comparative scarcity, however, prevents the gunner from searching after them with the same eagerness as he pursues the Rallus crepitans, and to shoot a dozen in the course of a day may be considered a remarkable feat. In that country, during the latter part of autumn, and in winter, they are usually met with in the salt-marshes bordering the estuaries of large rivers.

Like the two preceding species, the Virginian Rail has the power of contracting its body to enable it to pass with more ease between the stalks of strong grasses or other plants. When observed unseen, it frequently jerks the tail upwards, in the manner of Gallinules, but the moment it notices any one of its enemies, it droops the tail, lowers its head, and runs off with the quickness of thought.

The young of this species are at first of a black colour, like that of Rallus crepitans and R. elegans; but, like those of the latter, attain the rufous hue of the parent birds before the commencement of winter, although they increase in size and improve in the depth of their tints probably for several years.

Rallus virginianus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 263.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 334.

Rallus aquaticus, var. Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 755.

Virginian Rail, Rallus virginianus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 109. pl. 62. fig. 2.

Lesser Clapper Rail, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 205.

Adult Male. Plate CCV. Fig. 1.

Bill longer than the head, slender, compressed, slightly curved, deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly curved, the ridge flattish at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, convex and narrow towards the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed, the dorsal and marginal outlines slightly arched.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long. Body slender, much compressed. Feet rather long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus of ordinary length, compressed, anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated. Hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath. Claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact, slightly glossed on the back. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended; of the forehead with the shaft enlarged and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering, but obtuse, third longest, second very little shorter, first and sixth about equal; secondaries broad and rounded. Tail extremely short, much rounded, of twelve feeble rounded feathers; the upper and lower tail-coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Bill dark brown, the lower mandible and edges of upper yellowish-brown. Iris bright red. Feet yellowish-brown, tinged with olive; claws more dusky. The general colour of the upper parts is deep brownish-black, with streaks of light olive-brown; sides of the head dull bluish-grey, loral space of a deeper tint; a brownish-orange line over the eye. Alula, primary quills, and tail blackish-brown; secondary quills like the back, but edged with greenish-brown, smaller coverts dark chestnut. Throat reddish-white; fore neck and breast bright orange-brown, approaching to yellowish-red; sides, abdomen, and lower wing-coverts barred with brownish-black and white, the bands of the latter narrower; tibial feathers dusky anteriorly, light reddish behind. Lower tail-coverts each with a central brownish-black spot, the edges white, the tips pale reddish.

Length to end of tail 10 1/2 inches, to end of claws 13, extent of wings 14 1/4; bill 1 7/12; tarsus 1 5/12, middle toe and claw 1 9/12; wing from flexure 4 1/2, tail 1 10/12.

Adult Female. Plate CCV. Fig. 2.

The Female is considerably smaller than the male, but resembles it in colouring, only the dark tints of the upper parts are lighter, the chestnut of the wings paler, and the lower parts of a less bright red.

Length 9 1/4.

Young bird fledged. Plate CCV. Fig. 3.

When fully fledged the young does not differ materially in colour from the old, the tints being merely somewhat duller.

In colouring this species is so nearly allied to R. elegans, that the description of the one might pass very well for that of the other; the principal difference being that the sides of the head are grey in the former, and dusky in the latter. Of course, the difference in size and habits is sufficient to prevent their being confounded together.

THE AMERICAN SUN PERCH.

Few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel either in beauty or in delicacy and flavour the species which I have chosen as the subject of this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers. Although it occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small or large, in the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest-trees, or in the open lake margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in impure waters. Let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow, the water must be clear enough to allow the sun’s rays to fall unimpaired on the rich coat of mail that covers the body of the Sun-fish. Look at him as he poises himself under the lee of the protecting rock beneath our feet! See how steadily he maintains his position, and yet how many rapid motions of his fins are necessary to preserve it! Now another is by his side, glowing with equal beauty, and poising itself by equally easy and graceful movements. The sun is shining, and under the lee of every stone and sunk log, some of the little creatures are rising to the surface, to enjoy the bright blaze, which enhances all their beauty. The golden hues of some parts of the body blend with the green of the emerald, while the coral tints of the lower parts and the red of its sparkling eye, render our little favourite a perfect gem of the waters.

The rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones, and logs that are strewn along the bottom. Every one of these proves a place of rest, safety and observation to the little things, whose eyes are ever anxiously watching their favourite prey as it passes. There an unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labours in vain to extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings, now wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. The Sun-fish has marked it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with twenty of his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. The swiftest swallows it in a moment, and all immediately return to their lurking places, where they fancy themselves secure. But, alas, the Sun-fish is no more without enemies than the moth, or any other living creature. So has Nature determined, evidently to promote prudence and industry, without which none can reap the full advantage of life.

On the top of yon miller’s dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher. Up to the knees, and regardless of the danger of his situation, he prepares his apparatus of destruction. A keen hook attached to his grass-line is now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. With a knowing eye he marks one after another every surge of the water below. Observing the top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his hook towards it with gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats and anon sinks; his reel slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly tightened, and he feels that a fish is secured. Now whirls the reel again, thrice has the fish tried its utmost strength and speed, but, soon panting and exhausted, it is seen floating for a moment on the surface. Nothing now is required but to bring it to hand, which done, the angler baits anew, and sends forth the treacherous morsel. For an hour or more he continues the agreeable occupation, drawing from the stream a fish at every short interval. To the willow-twig fastened to his waist, a hundred “sunnies” are already attached. Suddenly the sky is overcast, and the crafty fisher, although aware that, with a different hook and bait, he might soon procure a fine eel or two, carefully wades to the shore, and homeward leisurely plods his way.

In this manner are the sun-fishes caught by the regular or “scientific” anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the overhanging trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little creatures may be playing in fancied security. Rarely does his tackle become entangled, whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws one after another from the waters.

Thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in their mode of fishing, often procure as many sunnies without allowing them to play for a moment. Look at these boys! One stands on the shore, while the others are on fallen trees that project over the stream. Their rods, as you perceive, are merely shoots of the hazel or hickory, their lines are simply twine, and their hooks none of the finest. One has a calabash filled with worms and grubs of many sorts, kept alive in damp earth, and another is supplied with a bottle containing half a gross of live “hoppers;” the third has no bait at all, but borrows from his nearest neighbour. Well, there they are, “three merry boys,” whirling their rods in the air to unrol their lines, on one of which, you observe, a cork is fastened, while on another is a bit of light wood, and on the third a grain or two of large shot, to draw it at once to a certain depth. Now their hooks are baited, and all are ready. Each casts his line as he thinks best, after he has probed the depth of the stream with his rod, to enable him to place his buoy at the proper point. Bob, bob, goes the cork; down it moves; the bit of wood disappears; the leaded line tightens; in a moment up swing the sunnies, which, getting unhooked, are projected far among the grass, where they struggle in vain, until death ends their efforts. The hooks are now baited anew, and dropped into the water. The fish is abundant, the weather propitious and delightful, for it is now October, and so greedy have the sunnies become of grasshoppers and grubs, that dozens at once dash at the same bait. The lads, believe me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely a fish remains in the hole. The happy children have caught perhaps some hundreds of delicious “pan-fish,” to feed their parents, and delight their little sisters. Surely their pleasure is fully as great as that experienced by the scientific angler.

I have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let out, for some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all the sun-fish have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if to avoid being carried away from their favourite abode. There I have seen them in such multitudes that one could catch as many as he pleased with a pinhook, fastened to any sort of line, and baited with any sort of worm or insect, or even with a piece of a newly caught fish. Yet, and I am not able to account for it, all of a sudden, without apparent cause, they would cease to take, and no allurement whatever could entice them or the other fishes in the pool to seize the hook.

During high freshets, this species of perch seldom bites at any thing, but you may procure them with a cast-net or a seine, provided you are well acquainted with the localities. On the contrary, when the waters are low and clear, every secluded hole, every eddy under the lee of a rock, every place sheltered by a raft of timber, will afford you amusement. In some parts of the Southern States, the Negroes procure these fishes late in the autumn in shallow ponds or bayous, by wading through the water with caution, and placing at every few steps a wicker apparatus, not unlike a small barrel, open at both ends. The moment the fishes find themselves confined within the lower part of this, which is pressed to the bottom of the stream, their skippings announce their capture, and the fisher secures his booty.

This species, the Labrus auritus of Linnæus, the Pomotis vulgaris of Cuvier, seldom exceeds five or six inches in length, but is rather deep in proportion. The usual size is from four to five inches, with a depth of from two to two and a half. They are not bony, and at all seasons afford delicate eating. Having observed a considerable change in their colour in different parts of the United States; and in different streams, ponds, or lakes, I was led to think that this curious effect might be produced by the difference of colour in the water. Thus, the Sun-fish caught in the deep waters of Green River, in Kentucky, exhibit a depth of olive-brown quite different from the general tint of those caught in the colourless waters of the Ohio or Schuylkill; those of the reddish-coloured waters of the Bayous of the Louisiana swamps, look as if covered with a coppery tarnish; and, lastly, those met with in streams that glide beneath cedars or other firs, have a pale and sallow complexion.

The Sun Perch, wherever found, seems to give a decided preference to sandy, gravelly, or rocky beds of streams, avoiding those of which the bottom is muddy. At the period of depositing their eggs, this preference is still more apparent. The little creature is then seen swimming rapidly over shallows, the bed of which is mostly formed of fine gravel, when after a while it is observed to poise itself and gradually sink to the bottom, where with its fin it pushes aside the sand to the extent of eight or ten inches, thus forming a circular cavity. In a few days a little ridge is thus raised around, and in the cleared area the roe is deposited. By wading carefully over the extent of the place, a person may count forty, fifty, or more of these beds, some within a few feet of each other, and some several yards apart. Instead of abandoning its spawn, as others of the family are wont to do, this little fish keeps guard over it with all the care of a sitting bird. You observe it poised over the bed, watching the objects around. Should the rotten leaf of a tree, a piece of wood, or any other substance, happen to be rolled over the border of the bed, the Sun-fish carefully removes it, holding the obnoxious matter in its mouth, and dropping it over the margin. Having many times witnessed this act of prudence and cleanliness in the little sunny, and observed that at this period it will not seize on any kind of bait, I took it into my head one fair afternoon to make a few experiments for the purpose of judging how far its instinct or reason might induce it to act when disturbed or harassed.

Provided with a fine fishing-line, and such insects as I knew were relished by this fish, I reached a sand-bar covered by about one foot of water, where I had previously seen many deposits. Approaching the nearest to the shore with great care, I baited my hook with a living ground-worm, the greater part of which was left at liberty to writhe as it pleased, and throwing the line up the stream, managed it so that at last it passed over the border of the nest, when I allowed it to remain on the bottom. The fish, I perceived, had marked me, and as the worm intruded on its premises, he swam to the farther side, there poised himself for a few moments, then approached the worm, and carried it in his mouth over the side next to me, with a care and gentleness so very remarkable as to afford me much surprise. I repeated the experiment six or seven times, and always with the same result. Then changing the bait, I employed a young grasshopper, which I floated into the egg-bed. The insect was removed, as the worm had been, and two attempts to hook the fish proved unsuccessful. I now threw my line with the hook bare, and managed as before. The sunny appeared quite alarmed. It swam to one side, then to another, in rapid succession, and seemed to entertain a fear that the removal of the suspicious object might prove extremely dangerous to it. Yet it gradually approached the hook, took it delicately up, and the next instant dropped it over the edge of the bed!

Reader, if you are one who, like me, have studied Nature with a desire to improve your mental faculties, and contemplate the wonderful phenomena that present themselves to the view at every step we take in her wide domain, you would have been struck, had you witnessed the actions of this little fish, as I was, with admiration of the Being who gave such instincts to so humble an object. I gazed in amazement on the little creature, and wondered that nature had endowed it with such feelings and powers. The irrepressible desire of acquiring knowledge prompted me to continue the experiment; but with whatever dexterity I could in those days hook a fish, all my efforts proved abortive, not with this individual only, but with many others, which I subjected to the same trials.

Satisfied that at this period the Sun-fish was more than a match for me, I rolled up my line, and with the rod gave a rap on the water as nearly over the fish as I could. The sunny darted off to a distance of several yards, poised itself steadily, and as soon as my rod was raised from the water, returned to its station. The effect of the blow on the water was now apparent, for I perceived that the fish was busily employed in smoothing the bed; but here ended my experiments on the Sun-fish.

THE WOOD DUCK.

Anas sponsa, Linn.
PLATE CCVI. Males, Females, and Nest.

I have always experienced a peculiar pleasure while endeavouring to study the habits of this most beautiful bird in its favourite places of resort. Never on such occasions have I been without numberless companions, who, although most of them were insensible of my presence, have afforded me hours of the never-failing delight resulting from the contemplation of their character. Methinks I am now seated by the trunk of a gigantic sycamore, whose bleached branches stretch up towards the heavens, as if with a desire to overlook the dense woods spread all around. A dark-watered bayou winds tortuously beneath the maples that margin its muddy shores, a deep thicket of canes spreading along its side. The mysterious silence is scarcely broken by the hum of myriads of insects. The blood-sucking musquito essays to alight on my hand, and I willingly allow him to draw his fill, that I may observe how dexterously he pierces my skin with his delicate proboscis, and pumps the red fluid into his body, which is quickly filled, when with difficulty he extends his tiny wings and flies off, never to return. Over the withered leaves many a tick is seen scrambling, as if anxious to elude the searching eye of that beautiful lizard. A squirrel spread flat against a tree, with its head directed downwards, is watching me; the warblers, too, are peeping from among the twigs. On the water, the large bull-frogs are endeavouring to obtain a peep of the sun; suddenly there emerges the head of an otter, with a fish in its jaws, and in an instant my faithful dog plunges after him, but is speedily recalled. At this moment, when my heart is filled with delight, the rustling of wings comes sweeping through the woods, and anon there shoots overhead a flock of Wood Ducks. Once, twice, three times, have they rapidly swept over the stream, and now, having failed to discover any object of alarm, they all alight on its bosom, and sound a note of invitation to others yet distant.

Scenes like these I have enjoyed a thousand times, yet regret that I have not enjoyed them oftener, and made better use of the opportunities which I have had of examining the many interesting objects that attracted my notice. And now, let me endeavour to describe the habits of the Wood Duck, in so far as I have been able to apprehend them.

This beautiful species ranges over the whole extent of the United States, and I have seen it in all parts from Louisiana to the confines of Maine, and from the vicinity of our Atlantic coasts as far inland as my travels have extended. It also occurs sparingly during the breeding-season in Nova Scotia; but farther north I did not observe it. Everywhere in this immense tract I have found it an almost constant resident, for some spend the winter even in Massachusetts, and far up the warm spring waters of brooks on the Missouri. It confines itself, however, entirely to fresh water, preferring at all times the secluded retreats of the ponds, bayous, or creeks, that occur so profusely in our woods. Well acquainted with man, they carefully avoid him, unless now and then during the breeding-season, when, if a convenient spot is found by them in which to deposit their eggs and raise their young, they will even locate themselves about the miller’s dam.

The flight of this species is remarkable for its speed, and the ease and elegance with which it is performed. The Wood Duck passes through the woods and even amongst the branches of trees, with as much facility as the Passenger Pigeon; and while removing from some secluded haunt to its breeding-grounds, at the approach of night, it shoots over the trees like a meteor, scarcely emitting any sound from its wings. In the lower parts of Louisiana and Kentucky, where they abound, these regular excursions are performed by flocks of from thirty to fifty or more individuals. In several instances I have taken perhaps undue advantage of their movements to shoot them on the wing, by placing myself between their two different spots of resort, and keeping myself concealed. In this manner I have obtained a number in the course of an hour of twilight; and I have known some keen sportsmen kill as many as thirty or forty in a single evening. This sport is best in the latter part of autumn, after the old males have joined the flocks of young led by the females. Several gunners may then obtain equal success by placing themselves at regular distances in the line of flight, when the birds having in a manner to run the gauntlet, more than half of a flock have been brought down in the course of their transit. While passing through the air on such occasions, the birds are never heard to emit a single note.

The Wood Duck breeds in the Middle States about the beginning of April, in Massachusetts a month later, and in Nova Scotia or on our northern lakes, seldom before the first days of June. In Louisiana and Kentucky, where I have had better opportunities of studying their habits in this respect, they generally pair about the 1st of March, sometimes a fortnight earlier. I never knew one of these birds to form a nest on the ground, or on the branches of a tree. They appear at all times to prefer the hollow broken portion of some large branch, the hole of our largest Woodpecker (Picus principalis), or the deserted retreat of the fox-squirrel; and I have frequently been surprised to see them go in and out of a hole of any one of these, when their bodies while on wing seemed to be nearly half as large again as the aperture within which they had deposited their eggs. Once only I found a nest (with ten eggs) in the fissure of a rock on the Kentucky River a few miles below Frankfort. Generally, however, the holes to which they betake themselves are either over deep swamps, above cane brakes, or broken branches of high sycamores, seldom more than forty or fifty feet from the water. They are much attached to their breeding-places, and for three successive years I found a pair near Henderson, in Kentucky, with eggs in the beginning of April, in the abandoned nest of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. The eggs, which are from six to fifteen, according to the age of the bird, are placed on dry plants, feathers, and a scanty portion of down, which I believe is mostly plucked from the breast of the female. They are perfectly smooth, nearly elliptical, of a light colour between buff and pale green, two inches in length by one and a half in diameter; the shell is about equal in firmness to that of the Mallard’s egg, and quite smooth.

No sooner has the female completed her set of eggs than she is abandoned by her mate, who now joins others, which form themselves into considerable flocks, and thus remain apart until the young are able to fly, when old and young of both sexes come together, and so remain until the commencement of the next breeding season. In all the nests which I have examined, I have been rather surprised to find a quantity of feathers belonging to birds of other species, even those of the domestic fowl, and particularly of the wild goose and wild turkey. On coming upon a nest with eggs when the bird was absent in search of food, I have always found the eggs covered over with feathers and down, although quite out of sight, in the depth of a woodpecker’s or squirrel’s hole. On the contrary, when the nest was placed in the broken branch of a tree, it could easily be observed from the ground, on account of the feathers, dead sticks, and withered grasses about it. If the nest is placed immediately over the water, the young, the moment they are hatched, scramble to the mouth of the hole, launch into the air with their little wings and feet spread out, and drop into their favourite element; but whenever their birth-place is at some distance from it, the mother carries them to it one by one in her bill, holding them so as not to injure their yet tender frame. On several occasions, however, when the hole was thirty, forty, or more yards from a bayou or other piece of water, I observed that the mother suffered the young to fall on the grasses and dried leaves beneath the tree, and afterwards led them directly to the nearest edge of the next pool or creek. At this early age, the young answer to their parents’ call with a mellow pee, pee, pee, often and rapidly repeated. The call of the mother at such times is low, soft, and prolonged, resembling the syllables pe-ēē, pe-ēē. The watch-note of the male, which resembles hoe-ēēk, is never uttered by the female; indeed, the male himself seldom uses it unless alarmed by some uncommon sound or the sight of a distant enemy, or when intent on calling passing birds of his own species.

The young are carefully led along the shallow and grassy shores, and taught to obtain their food, which at this early period consists of small aquatic insects, flies, musquitoes, and seeds. As they grow up, you now and then see the whole flock run as it were along the surface of the sluggish stream in chase of a dragon-fly, or to pick up a grasshopper or locust that has accidentally dropped upon it. They are excellent divers, and when frightened instantly disappear, disperse below the surface, and make for the nearest shore, on attaining which they run for the woods, squat in any convenient place, and thus elude pursuit. I used two modes of procuring them alive on such occasions. One was with a bag net, such as is employed in catching our little partridge, and which I placed half sunk in the water, driving the birds slowly, first within the wings, and finally into the bag. In this manner I have caught young and old birds of this species in considerable numbers. The other method I accidentally discovered while on a shooting excursion, accompanied by an excellent pointer dog. I observed that the sight of this faithful animal always immediately frightened the young ducks to the shores, the old one taking to her wings as soon as she conceived her brood to be safe. But the next instant Juno would dash across the bayou or pond, reach the opposite bank, and immediately follow on their track. In a few moments she would return with a duckling held between her lips, when I would take it from her unhurt.

While residing at Henderson, I thought of taming a number of Wood Ducks. In the course of a few days Juno procured for me, in the manner above described, as many as I had a mind for, and they were conveyed home in a bag. A dozen or more were placed in empty flour barrels, and covered over for some hours, with the view of taming them the sooner. Several of these barrels were placed in the yard, but whenever I went and raised their lids, I found all the little ones hooked by their sharp claws to the very edge of their prisons, and, the instant that room was granted, they would tumble over and run off in all directions. I afterwards frequently saw these young birds rise from the bottom to the brim of a cask, by moving a few inches at a time up the side, and fixing foot after foot by means of their diminutive hooked claws, which, in passing over my hand, I found to have points almost as fine as those of a needle. They fed freely on corn meal soaked in water, and as they grew, collected flies with great expertness. When they were half-grown I gave them great numbers of our common locusts yet unable to fly, which were gathered by boys from the trunks of trees and the “iron weeds,” a species of wild hemp very abundant in that portion of the country. These I would throw to them on the water of the artificial pond which I had in my garden, when the eagerness with which they would scramble and fight for them always afforded me great amusement. They grew up apace, when I pinioned them all, and they subsequently bred in my grounds in boxes which I had placed conveniently over the water, with a board or sticks leading to them, and an abundant supply of proper materials for a nest placed in them.

Few birds are more interesting to observe during the love season than Wood Ducks. The great beauty and neatness of their apparel, and the grace of their motions, always afford pleasure to the observer; and, as I have had abundant opportunities of studying their habits at that period, I am enabled to present you with a full account of their proceedings.

When March has again returned, and the Dogwood expands its pure blossoms to the sun, the Cranes soar away on their broad wings, bidding our country adieu for a season, flocks of water-fowls are pursuing their early migrations, the frogs issue from their muddy beds to pipe a few notes of languid joy, the Swallow has just arrived, and the Bluebird has returned to his box. The Wood Duck almost alone remains on the pool, as if to afford us an opportunity of studying the habits of its tribe. Here they are, a whole flock of beautiful birds, the males chasing their rivals, the females coquetting with their chosen beaux. Observe that fine drake! how gracefully he raises his head and curves his neck! As he bows before the object of his love, he raises for a moment his silken crest. His throat is swelled, and from it there issues a guttural sound, which to his beloved is as sweet as the song of the Wood Thrush to its gentle mate. The female, as if not unwilling to manifest the desire to please which she really feels, swims close by his side, now and then caresses him by touching his feathers with her bill, and shews displeasure towards any other of her sex that may come near. Soon the happy pair separate from the rest, repeat every now and then their caresses, and at length, having sealed the conjugal compact, fly off to the woods to search for a large woodpecker’s hole. Occasionally the males fight with each other, but their combats are not of long duration, nor is the field ever stained with blood, the loss of a few feathers or a sharp tug of the head being generally enough to decide the contest. Although the Wood Ducks always form their nests in the hollow of a tree, their caresses are performed exclusively on the water, to which they resort for the purpose, even when their loves have been first proved far above the ground on a branch of some tall sycamore. While the female is depositing her eggs, the male is seen to fly swiftly past the hole in which she is hidden, erecting his crest, and sending forth his love-notes, to which she never fails to respond.

On the ground the Wood Duck runs nimbly and with more grace than most other birds of its tribe. On reaching the shore of a pond or stream, it immediately shakes its tail sidewise, looks around, and proceeds in search of food. It moves on the larger branches of trees with the same apparent ease; and, while looking at thirty or forty of these birds perched on a single sycamore on the bank of a secluded bayou, I have conceived the sight as pleasing as any that I have ever enjoyed. They always reminded me of the Muscovy Duck, of which they look as if a highly finished and flattering miniature. They frequently prefer walking on an inclined log or the fallen trunk of a tree, one end of which lies in the water, while the other rests on the steep bank, to betaking themselves to flight at the sight of an approaching enemy. In this manner I have seen a whole flock walk from the water into the woods, as a steamer was approaching them in the eddies of the Ohio or Mississippi. They swim and dive well, when wounded and closely pursued, often stopping at the edge of the water with nothing above it but the bill, but at other times running to a considerable distance into the woods, or hiding in a cane-brake beside a log. In such places I have often found them, having been led to their place of concealment by my dog. When frightened, they rise by a single spring from the water, and are as apt to make directly for the woods as to follow the stream. When they discover an enemy while under the covert of shrubs or other plants on a pond, instead of taking to wing, they swim off in silence among the thickest weeds, so as generally to elude your search, by landing and running over a narrow piece of ground to another pond. In autumn, a whole covey may often be seen standing or sitting on a floating log, pluming and cleaning themselves for hours. On such occasions the knowing sportsman commits great havock among them, killing half a dozen or more at a shot.

The food of the Wood Duck, or as it is called in the Western and Southern States, the Summer Duck, consists of acorns, beech-nuts, grapes, and berries of various sorts, for which they half-dive, in the manner of the Mallard for example, or search under the trees on the shores and in the woods, turning over the fallen leaves with dexterity. In the Carolinas, they resort under night to the rice fields, as soon as the grain becomes milky. They also devour insects, snails, tadpoles, and small water lizards, swallowing at the same time a quantity of sand or gravel to aid the trituration of their food.

The best season in which to procure these birds for the table is from the beginning of September until the first frost, their flesh being then tender, juicy, and in my opinion excellent. They are easily caught in figure-of-four traps. I know a person now residing in South Carolina, who has caught several hundreds in the course of a week, bringing them home in bags across his horse’s saddle, and afterwards feeding them in coops on Indian corn. In that State, they are bought in the markets for thirty or forty cents the pair. At Boston, where I found them rather abundant during winter, they bring nearly double that price; but in Ohio or Kentucky twenty-five cents are considered an equivalent. Their feathers are as good as those of any other species; and I feel well assured that, with a few years of care, the Wood Duck might be perfectly domesticated, when it could not fail to be as valuable as it is beautiful.

Their sense of hearing is exceedingly acute, and by means of it they often save themselves from their wily enemies the minx, the polecat, and the racoon. The vile snake that creeps into their nest and destroys their eggs, is their most pernicious enemy on land. The young, when on the water, have to guard against the snapping turtle, the gar-fish, and the eel, and in the Southern Districts, against the lashing tail and the tremendous jaws of the alligator.

Those which breed in Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, move southward as soon as the frosts commence, and none are known to spend the winter so far north. I have been much surprised to find Wilson speaking of the Wood Ducks as a species of which more than five or six individuals are seldom seen together. A would-be naturalist in America, who has had better opportunities of knowing its habits than the admired author of the “American Ornithology,” repeats the same error, and, I am told, believes that all his statements are considered true. For my own part, I assure you, I have seen hundreds in a single flock, and have known fifteen to be killed by a single shot. They, however, raise only one brood in the season, unless their eggs or young have been destroyed. Should this happen, the female soon finds means of recalling her mate from the flock which he has joined.

On having recourse to a journal written by me at Henderson nearly twenty years ago, I find it stated that the attachment of a male to a female lasts only during one breeding season; and that the males provide themselves with mates in succession, the strongest taking the first choice, and the weakest being content with what remains. The young birds which I raised, never failed to make directly for the Ohio, whenever they escaped from the grounds, although they never had been there before. The only other circumstances which I have to mention are, that when entering the hole in which its nest is, the bird dives as it were into it at once, and does not alight first against the tree; that I have never witnessed an instance of its taking possession, by force, of a woodpecker’s hole; and lastly, that during winter they allow ducks of different species to associate with them.

Anas sponsa, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 207.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 871.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 385.

Summer Duck, or Wood Duck, Anas sponsa, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 97. pl. 78. fig. 3.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 394.

Dendronessa sponsa, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 446.

Adult Male. Plate CCVI. Fig. 1, 3.

Bill shorter than the head, deeper than broad at the base, depressed towards the end, slightly narrowed towards the middle of the unguis, the frontal angles prolonged and pointed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first sloping, then concave, along the unguis convex, the ridge broad and flat at the base, then broadly convex, the sides concave and perpendicular at the base, convex and sloping towards the end, edges soft, with about twenty-two internal lamellæ, unguis broadly elliptical, curved, rounded. Nostrils subbasal, lateral, rather small, oval, pervious. Lower mandible flattish, with the angle very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short, convex, the sides convex, the edges soft and rounded, lamellate above.

Head of moderate size, neck rather long and slender, body full and depressed, wings rather small. Feet very short, strong, placed rather far back; tarsus very short, considerably compressed, at its lower part anteriorly with two series of scutella, the rest covered with reticulated angular scales. Toes scutellate above; first very small, free, with a narrow membrane beneath, third longest, fourth a little shorter; claws small, curved, compressed, acute, the hind one smaller and more curved, that of the third toe with an inner sharp edge.

Plumage dense, soft, blended, generally glossed. Feathers of the middle of the head and upper part of hind neck, very narrow, elongated, and incurved, of the rest of the head and upper part of neck very short, of the back and lower parts in general broad and rounded, excepting on the shoulders before the wings, where they are enlarged, very broad and abrupt. Wings of moderate length, narrow, acute; primaries curved, strong, tapering, first and second longest; secondaries broad, rounded. Tail of moderate length, rather broad, much rounded, of sixteen rounded feathers.

Upper mandible bright red at the base, pale yellow on the sides, the intermediate space along the ridge, and the unguis, black, as in the lower mandible and its membrane. Iris and edges of eyelids bright red. Feet dull orange, claws black. Upper part of head, and space between the bill and eye deep green, and highly glossed; below the latter space a patch of dark purple, and a larger one of the same colour, but lighter, behind the eye; sides of the neck, its hind part under the crest, and the middle all round very dark purple. A narrow line along the base of the upper mandible and over the eye, meeting on the occiput, pure white, as are some of the feathers of the crest; another from behind the eye, meeting below the occiput, and including several of the lower elongated feathers. Throat, for more than three inches, pure white, with a process on each side a little beyond the eye, and another nearly halfway down the neck. Sides of the neck, and its lower part anteriorly reddish-purple, each feather on the latter with a triangular white tip. Middle of the neck behind, back and rump, very dark reddish-brown, the latter deeper, and tinged with green; upper tail-coverts and tail greenish-black; some of the lateral tail-coverts dull reddish-purple, a few on either side with their central filaments light red. Smaller wing-coverts, alula and primaries dull greyish-brown; most of the latter with part of their outer web greyish-white, and their inner towards the end darker and glossed with green. Secondary quills tipped with white, the outer webs green, with purple reflections, those of the inner secondaries and scapulars velvet-black, their inner webs partially glossed and changing to green. The broad feathers anterior to the wings are white, terminated with black; breast and abdomen greyish-white; feathers under the wings yellowish-grey, minutely undulated with black and white bars; lower wing-coverts and axillar feathers white, barred with greyish-brown; lower tail-coverts dull greyish-brown.

Length 20 1/2 inches, to end of claws 17 1/2, extent of wings 28; bill 1 5/12; tarsus 1 5/12, middle toe and claw 2 3/12; wing from flexure 9, tail 4 1/4.

Adult Female. Plate CCVI. Figs. 2, 4.

The female is considerably smaller, and differs greatly from the male in colouring. The feathers of the head are not elongated, but those of the upper part of the neck behind are slightly so. In other respects the plumage presents nothing very remarkable, and is similar to that of the male, only the feathers anterior to the wing, the upper hypochondrial, the inner secondaries and the rump-feathers are not enlarged, as in him. Bill blackish-brown; feet dusky, tinged with yellow. Upper part of head dusky, glossed with green, sides of the head and neck, with the hind part of the latter, light brownish-grey; throat white, but without the lateral processes of the male. Fore part of neck below and sides light yellowish-brown, mottled with dark greyish-brown, as are the sides under the wings; breast and abdomen white, the former spotted with brown. Hind neck, back, and rump, dark brown, glossed with green and purple. Wings as in the male, but the speculum less, and the secondaries externally faint reddish-purple, the velvet black of the male diminished to a few narrow markings. Tail dark brown, glossed with green; lower tail-coverts pale greyish-brown, mottled with white; lower wing-coverts as in the male.

Length 19 1/2 inches.

The tree represented in the plate is the Platanus occidentalis, which in different parts of the United States is known by the names of Buttonwood, Sycamore, Plane-tree, and Water Beech, and in Canada by that of Cotton-tree. It is one of our largest trees, and on the banks of our great western and southern rivers, often attains a diameter of eight or ten feet. Although naturally inclined to prefer the vicinity of water, it grows in almost every kind of situation, and thrives even in the streets of several of our eastern cities, such as Philadelphia and New York.

THE BOOBY GANNET.

Sula fusca, Briss.
PLATE CCVII. Male.

As the Marion was nearing the curious islets of the Tortugas, one of the birds that more particularly attracted my notice was of this species. The nearer we approached the land, the more numerous did they become, and I felt delighted with the hope that ere many days should elapse, I should have an opportunity of studying their habits. As night drew her sombre curtain over the face of nature, some of these birds alighted on the top-yard of our bark, and I observed ever afterwards that they manifested a propensity to roost at as great a height as possible above the surrounding objects, making choice of the tops of bushes, or even upright poles, and disputing with each other the privilege. The first that was shot at, was approached with considerable difficulty: it had alighted on the prong of a tree which had floated and been fastened to the bottom of a rocky shallow at some distance from shore; the water was about four feet deep and quite rough; sharks we well knew were abundant around us; but the desire to procure the bird was too strong to be overcome by such obstacles. In an instant, the pilot and myself were over the sides of the boat, and onward we proceeded with our guns cocked and ready. The yawl was well manned, and its crew awaiting the result. After we had struggled through the turbulent waters about a hundred yards, my companion raised his gun and fired; but away flew the bird with a broken leg, and we saw no more of it that day. Next day, however, at the same hour, the Booby was seen perched on the same prong, where, after resting about three hours, it made off to the open sea, doubtless in search of food.

About eight miles to the north-east of the Tortugas Lighthouse, lies a small sand-bar a few acres in extent, called Booby Island, on account of the number of birds of this species that resort to it during the breeding-season, and to it we accordingly went. We found it not more than a few feet above the surface of the water, but covered with Boobies, which lay basking in the sunshine, and pluming themselves. Our attempt to land on the island before the birds should fly off, proved futile, for before we were within fifty yards of it, they had all betaken themselves to flight, and were dispersing in various directions. We landed, however, distributed ourselves in different parts, and sent the boat to some distance, the pilot assuring us that the birds would return. And so it happened. As they approached, we laid ourselves as flat as possible in the sand, and although none of them alighted, we attained our object, for in a couple of hours we procured thirty individuals of both sexes and of different ages, finding little difficulty in bringing them down as they flew over us at a moderate height. The wounded birds that fell on the ground made immediately for the water, moving with more ease than I had expected from the accounts usually given of the awkward motions of these birds on the land. Those which reached the water swam off with great buoyancy, and with such rapidity, that it took much rowing to secure some of them, while most of those that fell directly into the sea with only a wing broken, escaped. The island was covered with their dung, the odour of which extended to a considerable distance leeward. In the evening of the same day we landed on another island, named after the Noddy, and thickly covered with bushes and low trees, to which thousands of that species of Tern resort for the purpose of breeding. There also we found a great number of Boobies. They were perched on the top-branches of the trees, on which they had nests, and here again we obtained as many as we desired. They flew close over our heads, eyeing us with dismay but in silence; indeed, not one of these birds ever emitted a cry, except at the moment when they rose from their perches or from the sand. Their note is harsh and guttural, somewhat like that of a strangled pig, and resembling the syllables hork, hork.

The nest of the Booby is placed on the top of a bush at a height of from four to ten feet. It is large and flat, formed of a few dry sticks, covered and matted with sea-weeds in great quantity. I have no doubt that they return to the same nest many years in succession, and repair it as occasion requires. In all the nests which I examined, only one egg was found, and as most of the birds were sitting, and some of the eggs had the chick nearly ready for exclusion, it is probable that these birds raise only a single young one, like the Common Gannet or Solan Goose. The egg is of a dull white colour, without spots, and about the size of that of a common hen, but more elongated, being 2 3/8 inches in length, with a diameter of 1 3/4. In some nests they were covered with filth from the parent bird, in the manner of the Florida Cormorant. The young, which had an uncouth appearance, were covered with down; the bill and feet of a deep livid blue or indigo colour. On being touched, they emitted no cry, but turned away their heads at every trial. A great quantity of fish lay beneath the trees in a state of putrefaction, proving how abundantly the young birds were supplied by their parents. Indeed, while we were on Noddy Island, there was a constant succession of birds coming in from the sea with food for their young, consisting chiefly of flying-fish and small mullets, which they disgorged in a half macerated state into the open throats of their offspring. Unfortunately the time afforded me on that coast was not sufficient to enable me to trace the progress of their growth. I observed, however, that none of the birds which were still brown had nests, and that they roosted apart, particularly on Booby Island, where also many barren ones usually resorted, to lie on the sand and bask in the sun.

The flight of the Booby is graceful and extremely protracted. They pass swiftly at a height of from twenty yards to a foot or two from the surface, often following the troughs of the waves to a considerable distance, their wings extended at right angles to the body; then, without any apparent effort, raising themselves and allowing the rolling waters to break beneath them, when they tack about, and sweep along in a contrary direction in search of food, much in the manner of the true Petrels. Now, if you follow an individual, you see that it suddenly stops short, plunges headlong into the water, pierces with its powerful beak and secures a fish, emerges again with inconceivable ease, after a short interval rises on wing, performs a few wide circlings, and makes off toward some shore. At this time its flight is different, being performed by flappings for twenty or thirty paces, with alternate sailings of more than double that space. When overloaded with food, they alight on the water, where, if undisturbed, they appear to remain for hours at a time, probably until digestion has afforded them relief.

The range to which this species confines itself along our coast, seldom extends beyond Cape Hatteras to the eastward, but they become more and more numerous the farther south we proceed. They breed abundantly on all such islands or keys as are adapted for the purpose, on the southern and western coasts of the Floridas and in the Gulf of Mexico, where I was told they breed on the sand-bars. Their power of wing seems sufficient to enable them to brave the tempest, while during a continuance of fair weather they venture to a great distance seaward, and I have seen them fully 200 miles from land.

The expansibility of the gullet of this species enables it to swallow fishes of considerable size, and on such occasions their mouth seems to spread to an unusual width. In the throats of several individuals that were shot as they were returning to their nests, I found mullets measuring seven or eight inches, that must have weighed fully half a pound. Their body beneath the skin, is covered with numerous air-cells, which probably assist them in raising or lowering themselves while on wing, and perhaps still more so when on the point of performing the rapid plunge by which they secure their prey.

Their principal enemies during the breeding-season are the American Crow and the Fish Crow, both of which destroy their eggs, and the Turkey Buzzard, which devours their young while yet unfledged. They breed during the month of May, but I have not been able to ascertain if they raise more than one brood in the season. The adult birds chase away those which are yet immature during the period of incubation. It would seem that they take several years in attaining their perfect state.

When procured alive, they feed freely, and may be kept any length of time, provided they are supplied with fish. No other food, however, could I tempt them to swallow, excepting slices of turtle, which after all they did not seem to relish. In no instance did I observe one drinking. Some authors have stated that the Frigate Pelican and the Lestris force the Booby to disgorge its food that they may obtain it; but this I have never witnessed. Like the Common Gannet, they may be secured by fastening a fish to a soft plank, and sinking it a few feet beneath the surface of the water, for if they perceive the bait, which they are likely to do if they pass over it, they plunge headlong upon it, and drive their bill into the wood.

When a Booby has alighted on the spar of a vessel, it is no easy matter to catch it, unless it is much fatigued; but if exhausted and asleep, an expert seaman may occasionally secure one. I was informed that after the breeding-season, these birds roost on trees in company with the Brown Pelican and a species of Tern, Sterna stolida, and spend their hours of daily rest on the sand-banks. Our pilot, who, as I have mentioned in my second volume, was a man of great observation, assured me that while at Vera Cruz, he saw the fishermen there go to sea, and return from considerable distances, simply by following the course of the Boobies.

The bills and legs of those which I procured in the brown plumage, and which were from one to two years of age, were dusky blue. These were undergoing moult on the 14th of May. At a more advanced age, the parts mentioned become paler, and when the bird has arrived at maturity, are as represented in my plate. I observed no external difference between the sexes in the adult birds. The stomach is a long dilatable pouch, thin, and of a yellow colour. The body is muscular, and the flesh, which is of a dark colour, tough, and having a disagreeable smell, is scarcely fit for food.

I am unable to find a good reason for those who have chosen to call these birds boobies. Authors, it is true, generally represent them as extremely stupid; but to me the word is utterly inapplicable to any bird with which I am acquainted. The Woodcock, too, is said to be stupid, as are many other birds; but my opinion, founded on pretty extensive observation, is, that it is only when birds of any species are unacquainted with man, that they manifest that kind of ignorance or innocence which he calls stupidity, and by which they suffer themselves to be imposed upon. A little acquaintance with him soon enables them to perceive enough of his character to induce them to keep aloof. This I observed in the Booby Gannet, as well as in the Noddy Tern, and in certain species of land birds of which I have already spoken. After my first visit to Booby Island in the Tortugas, the Gannets had already become very shy and wary, and before the Marion sailed away from those peaceful retreats of the wandering sea-birds, the Boobies had become so knowing, that the most expert of our party could not get within shot of them.

Pelecanus Sula, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 218.—Lath. Index Ornith. vol. ii. p. 892.

Sula fusca, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 408.

Booby, Sula fusca, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 500.

Adult Male. Plate CCVII.

Bill longer than the head, opening beyond the eyes, straight, elongated-conical, broader above than beneath at the base, compressed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line convex at the base, then a little concave, and towards the tip slightly arched, ridge very broad, convex, separated by a seam on each side, from the sides, which are nearly perpendicular, edges sharp, inflected, serrated, tip acute. No external nostrils. Lower mandible prolonged at the base behind the upper, its angle very long, wide at the base, with a bare membrane, very narrow towards the end, dorsal line straight, ascending, sides convex, tip very acute, edges serrated towards the end.

Head rather large; neck rather long and thick; body of moderate bulk, rather elongated; wings long. Feet short, strong, placed rather far behind; tibiæ concealed; tarsus very short, rounded before, sharp behind, covered all round with reticular scales; toes all united by membranes; first very short, being about half the length of the second, third and fourth longest and nearly equal, but the claw of the third is much longer than that of the fourth; claws small, compressed, acute, curved, that of the third toe largest, depressed, curved outwards, with a thin pectinated inner edge.

Plumage generally short, close, rather compact, the feathers small and rounded; those on the head very small; loral and orbital spaces bare, as is that in the angle of the lower mandible, and a short space above the tibio-tarsal joint; wings long, acute, narrow; primaries strong, narrow, tapering rapidly to a rounded point, first and second longest and about equal, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries short, rather broad, narrowed towards the rounded point. Tail rather long, cuneate, of twelve narrow, tapering feathers.

Bill and naked parts at its base bright yellow, pale flesh-coloured towards the end; a dusky spot before the eye. Iris white. Tarsi, toes, and their connecting webs, pale yellow, claws white. Head, neck all round, upper parts in general, and lower surface of wings, dusky brown, tinged with grey; the breast, abdomen, and lower tail-coverts, pure white.

Length 31 inches, to end of claws 27, extent of wings 29 1/4; bill along the back 3 11/12, along the edge 5; tarsus 1 8/12, middle toe and claw 3 1/2. Wing from flexure 16 1/2, tail 8 1/2. Weight 3 lb. 4 1/2 oz.

The Female resembles the male, but is smaller.

The Young, when fledged, are of a greyish-brown colour all over, the breast and abdomen being merely a little lighter than the rest. The bill and claws are dusky, the tarsi and toes with their membranes dull yellow.

ESQUIMAUX CURLEW.

Numenius borealis, Lath.
PLATE CCVIII. Male and Female.

I regret that I am unable to present a complete history of the Esquimaux Curlew. It is true I might somewhat enlarge my account of its habits, were I to borrow from others, but as I have resolved to confine myself to the results of my own observation, unless in certain cases, in which I always take care to give my authorities, I hope you will be pleased with the little which I have to offer.

Previous to my voyage to Labrador, I had seen only a single bird of this species, which was kindly given me by my learned friend William Oakes, Esq. of Ipswich, Massachusetts, who had procured it in his immediate neighbourhood, where, as I have since ascertained, the Esquimaux Curlew spends a few days in early autumn, while on its way southward. During their short stay in that State, they are met with on the high sandy hills near the sea-shore, where they feed on the grasshoppers and on several kinds of berries. On this food they become fat, so as to afford excellent eating, in consequence of which they have probably acquired the name of “Dough Bird,” which they bear in that district, but which is also applied to several other birds. How this species manages to cross the whole extent of the United States without being seen after leaving Massachusetts, is to me very wonderful. On one occasion only have I ever had a glimpse of it. I was in company with my learned and generous friend John Bachman of Charleston, on one of the islands on the coast of South Carolina, whither we had gone with the view of watching the Long-billed Curlews (Numenius longirostris). It was at the dawn of a fine day, when a dense flock of the northern Curlews passed to the southward, near enough to enable us to ascertain the species, but so swiftly, that in a few minutes they were quite out of sight.

On the 29th of July 1833, during a thick fog, the Esquimaux Curlews made their first appearance in Labrador, near the harbour of Bras d’Or. They evidently came from the north, and arrived in such dense flocks as to remind me of the Passenger Pigeons. The weather was extremely cold as well as foggy. For more than a week we had been looking for them, as was every fisherman in the harbour, these birds being considered there, as indeed they are, great delicacies. The birds at length came, flock after flock, passed close round our vessel, and directed their course toward the sterile mountainous tracts in the neighbourhood; and as soon as the sun’s rays had dispersed the fogs that hung over the land, our whole party went off in search of them.

I was not long in discovering that their stay on this coast was occasioned solely by the density of the mists and the heavy gales that already gave intimation of the approaching close of the summer; for whenever the weather cleared up a little, thousands of them set off and steered in a straight course across the broad Gulf of St Lawrence. On the contrary, when the wind was high, and the fogs thick, they flew swiftly and low over the rocky surface of the country, as if bewildered. Wherever there was a spot that seemed likely to afford a supply of food, there the Curlews abounded, and were easily approached. By the 12th of August, however, they had all left the country.

In Labrador they feed on what the fishermen call the Curlew berry, a small black fruit growing on a creeping shrub, not more than an inch or two in height, and so abundant, that patches of several acres covered the rocks here and there. When the birds were in search of these feeding-grounds, they flew in close masses, sometimes high, at other times low, but always with remarkable speed, and performing beautiful evolutions in the air. The appearance of man did not seem to intimidate them, for they would alight so near us, or pass over our heads at so short a distance, that we easily shot them. While on wing, they emitted an oft repeated soft whistling note, but the moment they alighted they became silent. They ran swiftly along, all in the same direction, picking up the berries in their way, and when pursued, would immediately squat in the manner of a snipe or partridge, sometimes even laying their neck and head quite flat on the ground, until you came within a short distance, when, at the single whistle of any one of the flock, they would all immediately scream and fly off, rambling about for a while, and not unfrequently realighting on the same spot. Now and then, however, their excursion would last a long time, they would rise high in the air, make towards the sea, and, as if aware of the unfavourable state of the weather for pursuing their southward course, would return.

They continued to arrive at Bras d’Or for several days, in flocks which seemed to me to increase in number. I saw no Hawks in their rear, and I was the more astonished at this, that at that period the Pigeon Hawk and Petit Caporal Hawk were pretty abundant.

They rose from the ground by a single quick spring, in the manner of a snipe, when they would cut backward, forward, and all around, in a very curious manner, and would now and then pause in the air, like a Hawk, remaining stationary for a few moments with their head meeting the wind, when immediately afterwards they would all suddenly alight. In calm and fair weather, they were more shy than at other times. While on their passage across the Gulf, they flew high in close bodies, and with their usual speed, by no means in regular lines, nor in any order, but much in the manner of the Migratory Pigeon, now and then presenting a broad front, and again coming together so as to form a close body.

Those which we procured were extremely fat and juicy, especially the young birds, of which we ate a good many. Mr Jones, an old settler of Bras d’Or, and his son, shoot a great number every season, which they salt for winter food. They informed us that these birds pass over the same tract about the middle of May, on their way northward, and that they never found them breeding in their neighbourhood. Little difference could be observed at that season between the males and females, or between the old and young birds.

Numenius borealis, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 712.—Ch. Bonaparte, Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 26. fig. 3.—Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 314.—Richardson and Swainson Fauna Boreali-Americana, part ii. p. 378.

Esquimaux Curlew, Numenius borealis, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 101.

Plate CCVIII. Adult Male. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, very slender, subcylindrical, compressed, slightly arched. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly arched, the sides, excepting at the base, nearly perpendicular, and marked with a narrow groove extending more than two-thirds of its length, edges rather obtuse. Nostrils basal, lateral, longitudinal, elliptical. Lower mandible with the dorsal line arched, the angle extremely narrow and extended to near the end, the sides convex, the edges rather obtuse, the tips obtuse, that of the upper mandible longer.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long, slender. Body slender. Feet of moderate length, slender. Toes small; first very small, second and fourth about equal, third considerably longer. Claws small, compressed, blunt, that of middle toe much longer, curved outwards, with a sharp dilated inner edge.

Plumage soft and blended, on the fore part of the head very short. Wings rather long, very acute, narrow, the first quill longest, the second a little shorter, the rest regularly and rapidly graduated; secondaries short, incurved, rounded, excepting some of the inner, which are greatly elongated and tapering. Tail short, nearly even, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill brownish-black, the lower mandible flesh-coloured at the base. Iris dark brown. Feet greyish-blue, claws black. The upper part of the head is brownish-black, streaked with pale yellowish-brown, and having an indistinct central line of the latter. The back is also brownish-black, marked with numerous spots of light brownish-yellow, there being several along the margin of each feather. Wing-coverts and secondaries of a lighter brown, similarly spotted; alula, primary coverts and quills unspotted, the shafts of most of the latter pale brown, but of the outer white. Tail pale greyish-brown, with light deep brown bars, and tipped with brownish-white. Sides of the head, and the neck all round, pale yellowish-brown, striped with dark brown; breast and sides of the same tint, with longitudinal and transverse dark markings. Lower wing-coverts and lower tail-coverts similarly barred; axillar feathers regularly banded, and of a deeper tint. Abdomen without markings. Throat and a line over the eye nearly white.

Length to end of tail 14 1/2, to end of wings 14 7/8, to end of claws 16 3/4; wing from flexure 8 1/2, tail 3 1/4; extent of wings 27 3/8; bill along the back 2 1/4, along the edge 2 1/2; tarsus 1 8/12, middle toe 11/12, its claw 5 1/2/12. Weight 1/2 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female resembles the male, and is scarcely inferior in size.

WILSON’S PLOVER.

Charadrius Wilsonius, Ord.
PLATE CCIX. Male and Female.

Reader, imagine yourself standing motionless on some of the sandy shores between South Carolina and the extremity of Florida, waiting with impatience for the return of day;—or, if you dislike the idea, imagine me there. The air is warm and pleasant, the smooth sea reflects the feeble glimmerings of the fading stars, the sound of living thing is not heard; nature, universal nature, is at rest. And here am I, inhaling the grateful sea-air, with eyes intent on the dim distance. See the bright blaze that issues from the verge of the waters! and now the sun himself appears, and all is life, or seems to be; for as the influence of the Divinity is to the universe, so is that of the sun to the things of this world. Far away beyond that treacherous reef, floats a gallant bark, that seems slumbering on the bosom of the waters like a silvery sea-bird. Gentle breezes now creep over the ocean, and ruffle its surface into tiny wavelets. The ship glides along, the fishes leap with joy, and on my ear comes the well known note of the bird which bears the name of one whom every ornithologist must honour. Long have I known the bird myself, and yet desirous of knowing it better, I have returned to this beach many successive seasons for the purpose of observing its ways, examining its nest, marking the care with which it rears its young, and the attachment which it manifests to its mate. Well, let the scene vanish! and let me present you with the results of my observations.

Wilson’s Plover! I love the name because of the respect I bear towards him to whose memory the bird has been dedicated. How pleasing, I have thought, it would have been to me, to have met with him on such an excursion, and, after having procured a few of his own birds, to have listened to him as he would speak of a thousand interesting facts connected with his favourite science and my ever-pleasing pursuits. How delightful to have talked, among other things, of the probable use of the double claws which I have found attached to the toes of the species which goes by his name, and which are also seen in other groups of shore and sea birds. Perhaps he might have informed me why the claws of some birds are pectinated on one toe and not on the rest, and why that toe itself is so cut. But alas! Wilson was with me only a few times, and then nothing worthy of his attention was procured.

This interesting species, which always looks to me as if in form a miniature copy of the Black-bellied Plover, is a constant resident in the southern districts of the Union. There it breeds, and there too it spends the winter. Many individuals, no doubt, move farther south, but great numbers are at all times to be met with from Carolina to the mouths of the Mississippi, and in all these places I have found it the whole year round. Some go as far to the eastward as Long Island in the State of New York, where, however, they are considered as rarities; but beyond this, none, I believe, are seen along our eastern shores. This circumstance has seemed the more surprising to me, that its relative the Piping Plover proceeds as far as the Magdeleine Islands; and that the latter bird should also breed in the Carolinas a month earlier than Wilson’s Plover ever does, seems to me not less astonishing.

Wilson’s Plover begins to lay its eggs about the time when the young of the Piping Plover are running after their parents. Twenty or thirty yards from the uppermost beat of the waves, on the first of June, or some day not distant from it, the female may be seen scratching a small cavity in the shelly sand, in which she deposits four eggs, placing them carefully with the broad end outermost. The eggs, which measure an inch and a quarter by seven and a half eighths, are of a dull cream colour, sparingly sprinkled all over with dots of pale purple and spots of dark brown. The eggs vary somewhat in size, and in their ground colour, but less than those of many other species of the genus. The young follow their parents as soon as they are hatched, and the latter employ every artifice common to birds of this family, to entice their enemies to follow them and thus save their offspring.

The flight of this species is rapid, elegant, and protracted. While travelling from one sand-beach or island to another, they fly low over the land or water, emitting a fine clear soft note. Now and then, when after the breeding season they form into flocks of twenty or thirty, they perform various evolutions in the air, cutting backwards and forwards, as if inspecting the spot on which they wish to alight, and then suddenly descend, sometimes on the sea-beach, and sometimes on the more elevated sands at a little distance from it. They do not run so nimbly as the Piping Plovers, nor are they nearly so shy. I have in fact frequently walked up so as to be within ten yards or so of them. They seldom mix with other species, and they shew a decided preference to solitary uninhabited spots.

Their food consists principally of small marine insects, minute shellfish, and sandworms, with which they mix particles of sand. Towards autumn they become almost silent, and being then very plump, afford delicious eating. They feed fully as much by night as by day, and the large eyes of this as of other species of the genus, seem to fit them for nocturnal searchings.

The young birds assemble together, and spend the winter months apart from the old ones, which are easily recognised by their lighter tints. While in the Floridas, near St Augustine, in the months of December and January, I found this species much more abundant than any other; and there were few of the Keys that had a sandy beach, or a rocky shore, on which one or more pairs were not observed.

Wilson’s Plover, Charadrius Wilsonius, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ix. p. 77. pl. 73. fig. 5.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 21.

Charadrius Wilsonius, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 296.

Adult Female. Plate CCIX. Fig. 2.

Bill as long as the head, stout, straight, cylindrical, obtuse, and somewhat turgid at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight until towards the end, when it is slightly arched and declinate, the sides convex, the edges sharp and slightly inflected. Nasal groove extending to about half the length of the bill; nostrils lateral, linear, direct, in the lower part of the bare membrane. Lower mandible with the angle rounded, the dorsal line convex and ascending, the back broad, the sides convex, the edges inflected.

Head large, a little compressed, the forehead prominent; eyes large. Neck short. Body rather full. Wings long. Legs rather long, slender; tibia bare a little above the joint; tarsus of ordinary length, somewhat compressed, covered with angular scales; toes small and slender, covered above with numerous small scutella, first toe wanting, fourth longer than second, third longest, the two outer connected at the base by a pretty large web; claws small, slightly arched, much compressed, obtuse.

Plumage soft and rather blended. Wings long, narrow, primaries nearly straight, narrow and tapering, the first longest, second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; outer secondaries very short, inner elongated so as to extend as far as the second primary. Tail of moderate length, straight, rounded, of twelve feathers.

Bill black. Edges of eyelids grey; iris reddish-brown. Feet light flesh-coloured; claws dusky. The general colour of the plumage above is light brownish-grey. Lower part of forehead and a broad streak over the eyes white; throat white, that colour extending narrow behind so as to form a collar, below which is another of the general tint of the back across the fore neck. The rest of the lower parts white. Quills and tail of a deeper greyish-brown, the shafts white, the two lateral tail-feathers whitish.

Length to end of tail 7 8/12 inches, to end of wings 7 7/12, to end of claws 8 8/12; extent of wings 14 1/4; wing from flexure 5; tail 2 1/4; bill along the back 9 1/2/12, along the edges 1; tarsus 1 2/12; middle toe 10/12, its claw 2/12.

Young Male in winter plumage. Plate CCIX. Fig. 1.

The Adult Male which is represented in Plate 284, is similar in colouring to the female as described above, but the lore is dusky, the white band on the forehead is surmounted by one of brownish black, and there is a half collar of the same colour across the neck in front.

THE LEAST BITTERN.

Ardea exilis, Gmel.
PLATE CCX. Male, Female, and Young.

One morning while I was at the Cincinnati Museum in the State of Ohio, a woman came in holding in her apron one of this delicate species alive, which she said had fallen down the chimney of her house under night, and which, when she awoke at daybreak, was the first object she saw, it having perched on one of the bed posts. It was a young bird. I placed it on the table before me, and drew from it the figure on the left of my plate. It stood perfectly still for two hours, but on my touching it with a pencil, after my drawing was done, it flew off and alighted on the cornice of a window. Replacing it on the table, I took two books and laid them so as to leave before it a passage of an inch and a half, through which it walked with ease. Bringing the books nearer each other, so as to reduce the passage to one inch, I tried the Bittern again, and again it made its way between them without moving either. When dead, its body measured two inches and a quarter across, from which it is apparent that this species, as well as the Gallinules and Rails, is enabled to contract its breadth in an extraordinary degree.

While I was in Philadelphia, in September 1832, a gentleman presented me with a pair of adult birds of this species, alive and in perfect plumage. They had been caught in a meadow a few miles below the city, and I kept them alive several days, feeding them on small fish and thin stripes of pork. They were expert at seizing flies, and swallowed caterpillars, and other insects. My wife admired them much on account of their gentle deportment, for although on being tormented, they would spread their wings, ruffle their feathers, and draw back their head as if to strike, yet they suffered themselves to be touched by any one without pecking at his hand. It was amusing to see them continually attempting to escape through the windows, climbing with ease from the floor to the top of the curtain by means of their feet and claws. This feat they would repeat whenever they were taken down. The experiment of the books was tried with them, and succeeded as at Cincinnati. At the approach of night they became much more lively, walked about the room, in a graceful manner with much agility, and generally kept close together. I had ample opportunities of studying their natural positions, and drew both of them in the attitudes exhibited in the plate. I would gladly have kept them longer; but as I was bound for the south, I had them killed for the purpose of preserving their skins.

This bird ranges over most part of the United States, but is nowhere to be found in tolerable abundance excepting about the mouths of the Mississippi and the Southern portions of the Floridas, especially the “Ever-glades.” I have met with them to the eastward as far as New Brunswick, on our large lakes, and in the intermediate portions of the country, although I have seldom found more than one or two at a time. In the Floridas and Carolinas they have been known to breed in small communities of four or five pairs. One instance of this was observed by my friend Dr Horlbeck of Charleston, and Dr Leitner, another friend of mine, found them quite abundant in certain portions of the Florida marshes.

Although the Least Bittern is not unfrequently started in salt marshes, it gives a decided preference to the borders of ponds, lakes or bayous of fresh water, and it is in secluded situations of this kind that it usually forms its nest. This is sometimes placed on the ground, amid the rankest grasses, but more frequently it is attached to the stems several inches above it. It is flat, composed of dried or rotten weeds, and in shape resembles that of the Louisiana Heron, although this latter employs nothing but sticks. The eggs are three or four, seldom more, of a dull yellowish-green, without spots, an inch and a quarter in length, almost equal at both ends.

When the young are yet quite small, their heads are covered with large tufts of reddish down, their bill is very short, and they sit on their rump with their legs extended on each side before their body, in the manner of young Herons. If disturbed when about two weeks old, they leave the nest and scramble through the grass with celerity, clinging to the blades with their sharp claws whenever this is necessary. At a later period they seem to await the coming of their parents with impatience; and if no noise is made, you may hear them calling continually in a low croaking voice for half an hour at a time. As soon as they are able to fly, they not unfrequently alight on the branches of trees to escape from their various enemies, such as minxes and water snakes, the latter of which destroy a good number of them.

In two instances, I found the nests of the Least Bittern about three feet above the ground, in a thick cluster of smilax and other briary plants. In the first, two nests were placed in the same bush, within a few yards of each other. In the other instance there was only one nest of this bird, but several of the Boat-tailed Grakle, and one of the Green Heron, the occupants of all of which seemed to be on friendly terms. When startled from the nest, the old birds emit a few notes resembling the syllable quā, alight a few yards off, and watch all your movements. If you go towards them, you may sometimes take the female with the hand, but rarely the male, who generally flies off, or makes his way through the woods. Its ordinary cry, however, is a rough croak resembling that of the Great Blue Heron, but much weaker.

The flight of this bird is apparently weak by day, for then it seldom removes to a greater distance than a hundred yards at a time, and this, too, only when frightened in a moderate degree, for, if much alarmed, it falls again among the grass in the manner of the Rail; but in the dusk of the evening and morning I have seen it passing steadily along, at the height of fifty years or more, with the neck retracted, and the legs stretched out behind, in the manner of the larger Herons. On such occasions it uttered, at short intervals, its peculiar cry, and continued its flight until out of sight. Several individuals were together, and I imagined them to be proceeding in search of breeding-grounds, or on a migratory expedition. When disturbed by day, they fly with extended neck and dangling legs, and are easily shot, as their course is generally direct and their flight slow. When walking, it shoots its head forward at every step, as if about to thrust its bill into some substance; and, if you attempt to lay hold of it when disabled, it is apt to inflict a painful wound.

The food of this bird consists of snails, slugs, tadpoles, or young frogs and water-lizards. In several instances, however, I have found small shrews and field-mice in their stomach. Although more nocturnal than diurnal, it moves a good deal about by day in search of food. About noon, being doubtless much fatigued, they are not unfrequently observed standing erect on one foot, and so soundly asleep as to be easily knocked down or even caught by the hand, if cautiously approached. This very remarkable habit of both our species of Bittern has brought upon them the charge of extreme stupidity, whence the name of Butor given to them by the Creoles of Louisiana. Whether or not this term be appropriate to the case, I leave for you to determine; but, my opinion is, that the animal truly deserving to be called stupid, yet remains to be discovered, and that the quality designated by that epithet occurs nowhere else than among the individuals of that species which so thoughtlessly applies the opprobrium.

Ardea exilis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 308.

Least Bittern, Ardea exilis, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 37. pl. 65. fig. 4.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 66.

Adult Male. Plate CCX. Fig. 1.

Bill longer than the head, slender, straight, tapering to a point, deeper than broad at the base, compressed towards the end. Upper mandible with its dorsal line almost straight, the ridge broad and rather rounded at the base, narrowed towards the end, the sides sloping, the edges very sharp, the tip acute. Nasal groove long; nostrils basal, linear, longitudinal. Lower mandible with the angle very long and narrow, the dorsal line sloping upwards, the sides nearly flat, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip very acute.

Head oblong, much compressed. Neck long. Body very slender, much compressed. Feet long, rather robust; tibia nearly entirely feathered; tarsi covered anteriorly with broad oblique scutella; toes scutellate above; hind toe stout, second and fourth nearly equal, third much longer; claws long, slender, arched, compressed, acute, that of middle toe serrated on the inner edge.

Eyelids and a large space before and beneath the eye, bare. Plumage soft, blended; feathers of the hind head elongated, as are those of the neck generally, but especially of its lower part anteriorly. Wings short, broad, rounded, the second quill longest. Tail very short, rounded, of twelve feathers.

Bill dark olive-brown above, edges of upper mandible and bare frontal space yellow; lower mandible pale yellow, inclining to flesh colour. Iris yellow. Feet dull greenish-yellow, claws brown. Upper part of the head, and the back, greenish-black and glossy; sides of the head and hind part of neck, brownish-red or light chestnut; wing-coverts pale greyish-brown, quills purplish-grey, tipped with yellowish-brown, the inner secondaries broadly margined with light chestnut, of which colour also are the secondary coverts and the edge of the wing at the flexure; the tail greenish-black. The throat and fore neck are reddish-white; the rest of the lower parts are of the same colour, excepting the fore part of the breast, which is blackish-brown, the feathers tipped with reddish-yellow, and the outer tibial feathers, which are reddish. In younger individuals the fore neck is more or less spotted with light brown, as was the case with that represented; but in old birds that part is unspotted.

Length to end of tail 13 1/2 inches, to end of claws 16; to end of wings 12 4/12; extent of wings 17 3/4; wing from flexure 5 1/4; tail 1 11/12; bill along the ridge 1 3/4, along the edge of lower mandible 2 1/2; tarsus 1 8/12; middle toe 1 1/2, its claw 5/12. Weight 4 3/4 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCX. Fig. 2.

The Female is smaller, and differs considerably from the male in colour. The bare parts and iris are the same. The upper part of the head is reddish-brown, with a tinge of green; the back and scapulars are dark chestnut, and there is a line of yellowish-white along each side of the back, formed by the outer edges of the feathers. The rump is darker, the tail bluish-black as in the male. In other respects the colouring is similar, but the feathers of the fore neck and sides have each a narrow central line of dark brown.

Length to end of tail 12 inches; wing from flexure 4 3/4; tail 1 3/4; bill along the ridge 1 3/4, along the edge of lower mandible 2 2/12; tarsus 1 1/2; middle toe 1 5/12, its claw 5/12. Weight 3 1/2 oz.

Young in first plumage. Plate CCX. Fig. 3.

The young has the bill, eyes and feet, nearly of the same tints as the old; but the upper parts of the plumage are generally of a light brownish-red, variegated with brownish-yellow; the primary quills and tail black.

I have lately received a letter from my friend John Bachman, stating that he had found this species breeding in considerable numbers on the plantation of James H. Smith, Esq. six miles east of Charleston, where he procured specimens both of the birds and of their eggs. Mr Smith’s sons had killed, in the course of a couple of weeks, not less than fourteen of these diminutive Herons. He describes the nest as flat, composed of pieces of dry rushes about a foot in length, and placed in a bunch of Juncus effusus. The eggs were nearly white with a very light tinge of blue.

THE EGGERS OF LABRADOR.

The distinctive appellation of Eggers is given to certain persons who follow, principally or exclusively, the avocation of procuring the eggs of wild birds, with the view of disposing of them at some distant port. Their great object is to plunder every nest, whenever they can find it, no matter where, and at whatever risk. They are the pest of the feathered tribes, and their brutal propensity to destroy the poor creatures after they have robbed them, is abundantly gratified whenever an opportunity presents itself.

Much had been said to me respecting these destructive pirates before I visited the coast of Labrador, but I could not entirely credit all their cruelties until I had actually witnessed their proceedings, which were such as to inspire no small degree of horror. But you shall judge for yourself.

See yon shallop shyly sailing along;—she sneaks like a thief, wishing as it were to shun the very light of heaven. Under the lea of every rocky isle some one at the tiller steers her course. Were his trade an honest one, he would not think of hiding his back behind the terrific rocks that seem to have been placed there as a resort to the myriads of birds that annually visit this desolate region of the earth, for the purpose of rearing their young, at a distance from all disturbers of their peace. How unlike the open, the bold, the honest mariner, whose face needs no mask, who scorns to skulk under any circumstances! The vessel herself is a shabby thing:—her sails are patched with stolen pieces of better canvass, the owners of which have probably been stranded on some inhospitable coast, and have been plundered, perhaps murdered, by the wretches before us. Look at her again!—Her sides are neither painted, nor even pitched; no—they are daubed over, plastered and patched with stripes of seal-skins, laid along the seams. Her deck has never been washed or sanded, her hold—for no cabin has she,—though at present empty, sends forth an odour pestilential as that of a charnel-house. The crew, eight in number, lie sleeping at the foot of their tottering mast, regardless of the repairs needed in every part of her rigging. But see! she scuds along, and as I suspect her crew to be bent on the commission of some evil deed, let us follow her to the first harbour.

There rides the filthy thing! The afternoon is half over. Her crew have thrown their boat overboard; they enter and seat themselves, each with a rusty gun. One of them skulls the skiff towards an island for a century past the breeding place of myriads of Guillemots, which are now to be laid under contribution. At the approach of the vile thieves, clouds of birds rise from the rock and fill the air around, wheeling and screaming over their enemies. Yet thousands remain in an erect posture, each covering its single egg, the hope of both parents. The reports of several muskets loaded with heavy shot are now heard, while several dead and wounded birds fall heavily on the rock or into the water. Instantly all the sitting birds rise and fly off affrighted to their companions above, and hover in dismay over their assassins, who walk forward exultingly, and with their shouts mingling oaths and execrations. Look at them! See how they crush the chick within its shell, how they trample on every egg in their way with their huge and clumsy boots. Onward they go, and when they leave the isle, not an egg that they can find is left entire. The dead birds they collect and carry to their boat. Now they have regained their filthy shallop; they strip the birds by a single jerk of their feathery apparel, while the flesh is yet warm, and throw them on some coals, where in a short time they are broiled. The rum is produced when the guillemots are fit for eating, and after stuffing themselves with this oily fare, and enjoying the pleasure of beastly intoxication, over they tumble on the deck of their crazed craft, where they pass the short hours of night in turbid slumber.

The sun now rises above the snow-clad summit of the eastern mount. “Sweet is the breath of morn” even in this desolate land. The gay Bunting erects his white crest, and gives utterance to the joy he feels in the presence of his brooding mate. The Willow Grous on the rock crows his challenge aloud. Each floweret, chilled by the night air, expands its pure petals; the gentle breeze shakes from the blades of grass the heavy dewdrops. On the Guillemot Isle the birds have again settled, and now renew their loves. Startled by the light of day, one of the Eggers springs on his feet and rouses his companions, who stare around them for a while, endeavouring to recollect their senses. Mark them, as with clumsy fingers they clear their drowsy eyes! Slowly they rise on their feet. See how the filthy lubbers stretch out their arms and yawn; you shrink back, for verily “that throat might frighten a shark.”

But the master, soon recollecting that so many eggs are worth a dollar or a crown, casts his eye towards the rock, marks the day in his memory, and gives orders to depart. The light breeze enables them to reach another harbour a few miles distant, one which, like the last, lies concealed from the ocean by some other rocky isle. Arrived there, they re-act the scene of yesterday, crushing every egg they can find. For a week each night is passed in drunkenness and brawls, until, having reached the last breeding place on the coast, they return, touch at every isle in succession, shoot as many birds as they need, collect the fresh eggs, and lay in a cargo. At every step each ruffian picks up an egg so beautiful that any man with a feeling heart would pause to consider the motive which could induce him to carry it off. But nothing of this sort occurs to the Egger, who gathers and gathers, until he has swept the rock bare. The dollars alone chink in his sordid mind, and he assiduously plies the trade which no man would ply who had the talents and industry to procure subsistence by honourable means.

With a bark nearly half filled with fresh eggs they proceed to the principal rock, that on which they first landed. But what is their surprise when they find others there helping themselves as industriously as they can! In boiling rage they charge their guns, and ply their oars. Landing on the rock, they run up to the Eggers, who, like themselves, are desperadoes. The first question is a discharge of musketry, the answer another. Now, man to man, they fight like tigers. One is carried to his boat with a fractured skull, another limps with a shot in his leg, and a third feels how many of his teeth have been driven through the hole in his cheek. At last, however, the quarrel is settled; the booty is to be equally divided; and now see them all drinking together. Oaths and curses and filthy jokes are all that you hear; but see, stuffed with food, and reeling with drink, down they drop one by one; groans and execrations from the wounded mingle with the snorings of the heavy sleepers. There let the brutes lie.

Again it is dawn, but no one stirs. The sun is high; one by one they open their heavy eyes, stretch their limbs, yawn, and raise themselves from the deck. But see, here comes a goodly company. A hundred honest fishermen, who for months past have fed on salt meat, have felt a desire to procure some eggs. Gallantly their boats advance, impelled by the regular pull of their long oars. Each buoyant bark displays the flag of its nation. No weapons do they bring, nor any thing that can be used as such save their oars and fists. Cleanly clad in Sunday attire, they arrive at the desired spot, and at once prepare to ascend the rock. The Eggers, now numbering a dozen, all armed with guns and bludgeons, bid defiance to the fishermen. A few angry words pass between the parties. One of the Eggers, still under the influence of drink, pulls his trigger, and an unfortunate sailor is seen to reel in agony. Three loud cheers fill the air. All at once rush on the malefactors; a horrid fight ensues, the result of which is, that every Egger is left on the rock beaten and bruised. Too frequently the fishermen man their boats, row to the shallops, and break every egg in the hold.

The Eggers of Labrador not only rob the birds in this cruel manner, but also the fishermen, whenever they can find an opportunity; and the quarrels they excite are numberless. While we were on the coast, none of our party ever ventured on any of the islands which these wretches call their own, without being well provided with means of defence. On one occasion, when I was present, we found two Eggers at their work of destruction. I spoke to them respecting my visit, and offered them premiums for rare birds and some of their eggs; but although they made fair promises, not one of the gang ever came near the Ripley.

These people gather all the eider down they can find; yet so inconsiderate are they, that they kill every bird that comes in their way. The eggs of Gulls, Guillemots, and Ducks are searched for with care; and the Puffins and some other birds they massacre in vast numbers for the sake of their feathers. So constant and persevering are their depredations, that these species, which, according to the accounts of the few settlers I saw in the country, were exceedingly abundant twenty years ago, have abandoned their ancient breeding places, and removed much farther north in search of peaceful security. Scarcely, in fact, could I procure a young Guillemot before the Eggers had left the coast, nor was it until late in July that I succeeded, after the birds had laid three or four eggs each, instead of one, and when nature having been exhausted, and the season nearly spent, thousands of these birds left the country without having accomplished the purpose for which they had visited it. This war of extermination cannot last many years more. The Eggers themselves will be the first to repent the entire disappearance of the myriads of birds that made the coast of Labrador their summer residence, and unless they follow the persecuted tribes to the northward, they must renounce their trade.

Had not the British Government long since passed strict laws against these ruthless and worthless vagabonds, and laid a heavy penalty on all of them that might be caught in the act of landing their cargoes in Newfoundland or Nova Scotia, I might—

THE GREAT BLUE HERON.

Ardea Herodias, Linn.
PLATE CCXI. Male.

The State of Louisiana has always been my favourite portion of the Union, although Kentucky and some other States have divided my affections; but as we are on the banks of the fair Ohio, let us pause a while, good Reader, and watch the Heron. In my estimation, few of our waders are more interesting than the birds of this family. Their contours and movements are always graceful, if not elegant. Look on the one that stands near the margin of the pure stream:—see his reflection dipping as it were into the smooth water, the bottom of which it might reach had it not to contend with the numerous boughs of those magnificent trees. How calm, how silent, how grand is the scene! The tread of the tall bird himself no one hears, so carefully does he place his foot on the moist ground, cautiously suspending it for a while at each step of his progress. Now his golden eye glances over the surrounding objects, in surveying which he takes advantage of the full stretch of his graceful neck. Satisfied that no danger is near, he lays his head on his shoulders, allows the feathers of his breast to droop, and patiently awaits the approach of his finned prey. You might imagine what you see to be the statue of a bird, so motionless is it. But now, he moves; he has taken a silent step, and with great care he advances; slowly does he raise his head from his shoulders, and now, what a sudden start! his formidable bill has transfixed a perch, which he beats to death on the ground. See with what difficulty he gulps it down his capacious throat! and now his broad wings open, and away he slowly flies to another station, or perhaps to avoid his unwelcome observers.

The “Blue Crane” (by which name this species is generally known in the United States) is met with in every part of the Union. Although more abundant in the low lands of our Atlantic coast, it is not uncommon in the countries west of the Alleghany Mountains. I have found it in every State in which I have travelled, as well as in all our “Territories.” It is well known from Louisiana to Maine, but seldom occurs farther east than Prince Edward’s Island in the Gulf of St Lawrence, and not a Heron of any kind did I see or hear of in Newfoundland or Labrador. Westward, I believe, it reaches to the very bases of the Rocky Mountains. It is a hardy bird, and bears the extremes of temperature surprisingly, being in its tribe what the Passenger Pigeon is in the family of Doves. During the coldest part of winter the Blue Heron is observed in the State of Massachusetts and in Maine, spending its time in search of prey about the warm springs and ponds which occur there in certain districts. They are not rare in the Middle States, but more plentiful to the west and south of Pennsylvania, which perhaps arises from the incessant war waged against them.

Extremely suspicious and shy, this bird is ever on the look-out. Its sight is as acute as that of any falcon, and it can hear at a considerable distance, so that it is enabled to mark with precision the different objects it sees, and to judge with accuracy of the sounds which it hears. Unless under very favourable circumstances, it is almost hopeless to attempt to approach it. You may now and then surprise one feeding under the bank of a deep creek or bayou, or obtain a shot as he passes unawares over you on wing; but to walk up towards one would be a fruitless adventure. I have seen many so wary, that, on seeing a man at any distance within half a mile, they would take to wing; and the report of a gun forces one off his grounds from a distance at which you would think he could not be alarmed. When in close woods, however, and perched on a tree, they can be approached with a good chance of success.

The Blue Heron feeds at all hours of the day, as well as in the dark and dawn, and even under night, when the weather is clear, his appetite alone determining his actions in this respect; but I am certain that when disturbed during dark nights it feels bewildered, and alights as soon as possible. When passing from one part of the country to another at a distance, the case is different, and on such occasions they fly under night at a considerable height above the trees, continuing their movements in a regular manner.

The commencement of the breeding season varies, according to the latitude, from the beginning of March to the middle of June. In the Floridas it takes place about the first of these periods, in the Middle Districts about the 15th of May, and in Maine a month later. It is at the approach of this period only that these birds associate in pairs, they being generally quite solitary at all other times; nay, excepting during the breeding season, each individual seems to secure for itself a certain district as a feeding ground, giving chase to every intruder of its own species. At such times they also repose singly, for the most part roosting on trees, although sometimes taking their station on the ground, in the midst of a wide marsh, so that they may be secure from the approach of man. This unsocial temper probably arises from the desire of securing a certain abundance of food, of which each individual in fact requires a large quantity.

The manners of this Heron are exceedingly interesting at the approach of the breeding season, when the males begin to look for partners. About sunrise you see a number arrive and alight either on the margin of a broad sand-bar or on a savannah. They come from different quarters, one after another, for several hours; and when you see forty or fifty before you, it is difficult for you to imagine that half the number could have resided in the same district. Yet in the Floridas I have seen hundreds thus collected in the course of a morning. They are now in their full beauty, and no young birds seem to be among them. The males walk about with an air of great dignity, bidding defiance to their rivals, and the females croak to invite the males to pay their addresses to them. The females utter their coaxing notes all at once, and as each male evinces an equal desire to please the object of his affection, he has to encounter the enmity of many an adversary, who, with little attention to politeness, opens his powerful bill, throws out his wings, and rushes with fury on his foe. Each attack is carefully guarded against, blows are exchanged for blows; one would think that a single well-aimed thrust might suffice to inflict death, but the strokes are parried with as much art as an expert swordsman would employ; and, although I have watched these birds for half an hour at a time as they fought on the ground, I never saw one killed on such an occasion; but I have often seen one felled and trampled upon, even after incubation had commenced. These combats over, the males and females leave the place in pairs. They are now mated for the season, at least I am inclined to think so, as I never saw them assemble twice on the same ground, and they become comparatively peaceable after pairing.

It is by no means a constant practice with this species to breed in communities, whether large or small; for although I have seen many such associations, I have also found many pairs breeding apart. Nor do they at all times make choice of the trees placed in the interior of a swamp, for I have found heronries in the pine-barrens of the Floridas, more than ten miles from any marsh, pond, or river. I have also observed nests on the tops of the tallest trees, while others were only a few feet above the ground: some also I have seen on the ground itself, and many on cactuses. In the Carolinas, where Herons of all sorts are extremely abundant, perhaps as much so as in the lower parts of Louisiana or the Floridas, on account of the numerous reservoirs connected with the rice plantations, and the still more numerous ditches which intersect the rice-fields, all of which contain fish of various sorts, these birds find it easy to procure food in great abundance. There the Blue Herons breed in considerable numbers, and if the place they have chosen be over a swamp, few situations can be conceived more likely to ensure their safety, for one seldom ventures into those dismal retreats at the time when these birds breed, the effluvia being extremely injurious to health, besides the difficulties to be overcome in making one’s way to them.

Imagine, if you can, an area of some hundred acres, overgrown with huge cypress trees, the trunks of which, rising to a height of perhaps fifty feet before they send off a branch, spring from the midst of the dark muddy waters. Their broad tops, placed close together with interlaced branches, seem intent on separating the heavens from the earth. Beneath their dark canopy scarcely a single sunbeam ever makes its way; the mire is covered with fallen logs, on which grow matted grasses and lichens, and the deeper parts with nympheæ and other aquatic plants. The Congo snake and water-moccasin glide before you as they seek to elude your sight, hundreds of turtles drop, as if shot, from the floating trunks of the fallen trees, from which also the sullen alligator plunges into the dismal pool. The air is pregnant with pestilence, but alive with musquitoes and other insects. The croaking of the frogs, joined with the hoarse cries of the Anhingas and the screams of the Herons, forms fit music for such a scene. Standing knee-deep in the mire, you discharge your gun at one of the numerous birds that are breeding high over head, when immediately such a deafening noise arises, that, if you have a companion with you, it were quite useless to speak to him. The frightened birds cross each other confusedly in their flight; the young attempting to secure themselves, some of them lose their hold, and fall into the water with a splash; a shower of leaflets whirls downwards from the tree-tops, and you are glad to make your retreat from such a place. Should you wish to shoot Herons, you may stand, fire, and pick up your game as long as you please; you may obtain several species, too, for not only does the Great Blue Heron breed there, but the White, and sometimes the Night Heron, as well as the Anhinga, and to such places they return year after year, unless they have been cruelly disturbed.

The nest of the Blue Heron, in whatever situation it may be placed, is large and flat, externally composed of dry sticks, and matted with weeds and mosses to a considerable thickness. When the trees are large and convenient, you may see several nests on the same tree. The full complement of eggs which these birds lay is three, and in no instance have I found more. Indeed, this is constantly the case with all the large species with which I am acquainted, from Ardea cœrulea to Ardea occidentalis; but the smaller species lay more as they diminish in size, the Louisiana Heron having frequently four, and the Green Heron five, and even sometimes six. Those of the Great Blue Heron are very small compared with the size of the bird, measuring only two and a half inches by one and seven-twelfths; they are of a dull bluish-white, without spots, rather rough, and of a regular oval form.

The male and the female sit alternately, receiving food from each other, their mutual affection being as great as it is towards their young, which they provide for so abundantly, that it is not uncommon to find the nest containing a quantity of fish and other food, some fresh, and some in various stages of putrefaction. As the young advance they are less frequently fed, although still as copiously supplied whenever opportunity offers; but now and then I have observed them, when the nests were low, standing on their haunches, with their legs spread widely before them, and calling for food in vain. The quantity which they require is now so great that all the exertions of the old birds appear at times to be insufficient to satisfy their voracious appetite; and they do not provide for themselves until fully able to fly, when their parents chase them off, and force them to shift as they can. They are generally in good condition when they leave the nest; but from want of experience they find it difficult to procure as much food as they have been accustomed to, and soon become poor. Young birds from the nest afford tolerable eating; but the flesh of the old birds is by no means to my taste, nor so good as some epicures would have us to believe, and I would at any time prefer that of a Crow or young Eagle.

The principal food of the Great Blue Heron is fish of all kinds; but it also devours frogs, lizards, snakes, and birds, as well as small quadrupeds, such as shrews, meadow-mice, and young rats, all of which I have found in its stomach. Aquatic insects are equally welcome to it, and it is an expert flycatcher, striking at moths, butterflies, and libellulæ, whether on the wing or when alighted. It destroys a great number of young Marsh-Hens, Rails, and other birds; but I never saw one catch a fiddler or a crab; and the only seeds that I have found in its stomach were those of the great water-lily of the Southern States. It always strikes its prey through the body, and as near the head as possible. When the animal is strong and active, it kills it by beating it against the ground or a rock, after which it swallows it entire. While on the St John’s River in East Florida, I shot one of these birds, and on opening it on board, found in its stomach a fine perch quite fresh, but of which the head had been cut off. The fish, when cooked, I found excellent, as did Lieutenant Piercy and my assistant Mr Ward, but Mr Leehman would not so much as taste it. When on a visit to my friend John Bulow, I was informed by him, that although he had several times imported gold fishes from New York, with the view of breeding them in a pond, through which ran a fine streamlet, and which was surrounded by a wall, they all disappeared in a few days after they were let loose. Suspecting the Heron to be the depredator, I desired him to watch the place carefully with a gun; which was done, and the result was, that he shot a superb specimen of the present species, in which was found the last gold fish that remained.

In the wild state it never, I believe, eats dead fish of any sort, or indeed any other food than that killed by itself. Now and then it strikes at a fish so large and strong as to endanger its own life; and I once saw one on the Florida coast, that, after striking a fish, when standing in the water to the full length of its legs, was dragged along for several yards, now on the surface, and again beneath. When, after a severe struggle, the Heron disengaged itself, it appeared quite overcome, and stood still near the shore, his head turned from the sea, as if afraid to try another such experiment. The number of fishes, measuring five or six inches, which one of these birds devours in a day, is surprising: Some which I kept on board the Marion would swallow, in the space of half an hour, a bucketful of young mullets; and when fed on the flesh of green turtles, they would eat several pounds at a meal. I have no doubt that, in favourable circumstances, one of them could devour several hundreds of small fishes in a day. A Heron that was caught alive on one of the Florida keys, near Key West, looked so emaciated when it came on board, that I had it killed to discover the cause of its miserable condition. It was an adult female that had bred that spring; her belly was in a state of mortification, and on opening her, we found the head of a fish measuring several inches, which, in an undigested state, had lodged among the entrails of the poor bird. How long it had suffered could only be guessed, but this undoubtedly was the cause of the miserable state in which it was found.

I took a pair of young Herons of this species to Charleston. They were nearly able to fly when caught, and were standing erect a few yards from the nest, in which lay a putrid one that seemed to have been trampled to death by the rest. They offered little resistance, but grunted with a rough uncouth voice. I had them placed in a large coop, containing four individuals of the Ardea occidentalis, who immediately attacked the new-comers in the most violent manner, so that I was obliged to turn them loose on the deck. I had frequently observed the great antipathy evinced by the majestic white species towards the blue in the wild state, but was surprised to find it equally strong in young birds which had never seen one, and were at that period smaller than the others. All my endeavours to remove their dislike were unavailing, for when placed in a large yard, the White Herons attacked the Blue, and kept them completely under. The latter became much tamer, and were more attached to each other. Whenever a piece of turtle was thrown to them, it was dexterously caught in the air and gobbled up in an instant, and as they became more familiar, they ate bits of biscuit, cheese, and even rhinds of bacon.

When wounded, the Great Blue Heron immediately prepares for defence, and woe to the man or dog who incautiously comes within reach of its powerful bill, for that instant he is sure to receive a severe wound, and the risk is so much the greater that birds of this species commonly aim at the eye. If beaten with a pole or long stick, they throw themselves on their back, cry aloud, and strike with their bill and claws with great force. I have shot some on trees, which, although quite dead, clung by their claws for a considerable time before they fell. I have also seen the Blue Heron giving chase to a Fish Hawk, whilst the latter was pursuing its way through the air towards a place where it could feed on the fish which it bore in its talons. The Heron soon overtook the Hawk, and at the very first lounge made by it, the latter dropped its quarry, when the Heron sailed slowly towards the ground, where it no doubt found the fish. On one occasion of this kind, the Hawk dropped the fish in the water, when the Heron, as if vexed that it was lost to him, continued to harass the Hawk, and forced it into the woods.

The flight of the Great Blue Heron is even, powerful, and capable of being protracted to a great distance. On rising from the ground or on leaving its perch, it goes off in silence with extended neck and dangling legs, for eight or ten yards, after which it draws back its neck, extends its feet in a straight line behind, and with easy and measured flappings continues its course, at times flying low over the marshes, and again, as if suspecting danger, at a considerable height over the land or the forest. It removes from one pond or creek, or even from one marsh to another, in a direct manner, deviating only on apprehending danger. When about to alight, it now and then sails in a circular direction, and when near the spot it extends its legs, and keeps its wings stretched out until it has effected a footing. The same method is employed when it alights on a tree, where, however, it does not appear to be as much at its ease as on the ground. When suddenly surprised by an enemy, it utters several loud discordant notes, and mutes the moment it flies off.

This species takes three years in attaining maturity, and even after that period it still increases in size and weight. When just hatched they have a very uncouth appearance, the legs and neck being very long, as well as the bill. By the end of a-week the head and neck are sparingly covered with long tufts of silky down, of a dark grey colour, and the body exhibits young feathers, the quills large with soft blue sheaths. The tibio-tarsal joints appear monstrous, and at this period the bones of the leg are so soft, that one may bend them to a considerable extent without breaking them. At the end of four weeks, the body and wings are well covered with feathers of a dark slate colour, broadly margined with ferruginous, the latter colour shewing plainly on the thighs and the flexure of the wing; the bill has grown wonderfully, the legs would not now easily break, and the birds are able to stand erect on the nest or on the objects near it. They are now seldom fed oftener than once a-day, as if their parents were intent on teaching them that abstinence without which it would often be difficult for them to subsist in their after life. At the age of six or seven weeks they fly off, and at once go in search of food, each by itself.

In the following spring, at which time they have grown much, the elongated feathers of the breast and shoulders are seen, the males shew the commencement of the pendent crest, and the top of the head has become white. None breed at this age, in so far as I have been able to observe. The second spring, they have a handsome appearance, the upper parts have become light, the black and white marks are much purer, and some have the crest three or four inches in length. Some breed at this age. The third spring, the Great Blue Heron is as represented in the plate.

The males are somewhat larger than the females, but there is very little difference between the sexes in external appearance. This species moults in the Southern States about the beginning of May, or as soon as the young are hatched, and one month after the pendent crest is dropped, and much of the beauty of the bird is gone for the season. The weight of a full grown Heron of this kind, when it is in good condition, is about eight pounds; but this varies very much according to circumstances, and I have found some having all the appearance of old birds that did not exceed six pounds. The stomach consists of a long bag, thinly covered by a muscular coat, and is capable of containing several fishes at a time. The intestine is not thicker than the quill of a swan, and measures from eight and a half to nine feet in length.

Ardea Herodias, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 237.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 692.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. p. 304.

Great Heron, Ardea Herodias, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 106. pl. 61. Fig. 1.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 42.

Adult Male in spring. Plate CCXI.

Bill much longer than the head, straight, compressed, tapering to a point, the mandibles nearly equal; upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight, the ridge broadly convex at the base, narrowed towards the end, a groove from the base to near the tip, beneath which the sides are convex, the edges extremely thin and sharp, towards the end broken into irregular serratures, the tip acute. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow and elongated, the dorsal line beyond it ascending, and slightly curved, the ridge convex, the sides flattish and ascending, the edges as in the upper, the tip acuminate. Nostrils basal, linear, longitudinal, with a membrane above and behind.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed. Neck very long and slender. Body slender and compressed; wings large. Feet very long; tibia elongated, its lower half bare, very slender, covered all round with hexagonal scales; tarsus elongated, thicker than the lower part of the tibia, compressed, covered anteriorly with large scutella, excepting at the two extremities, where it is scaly, the sides and hind part with angular scales. Toes of moderate length, rather slender, scutellate above, reticularly granulate beneath, third toe much longer than second and fourth, which are nearly equal, first shorter, but strong; claws of moderate size, strong, compressed, arched, rather acute, the thin inner edge of that of the third toe finely serrated.

Space between the bill and eye, and around the latter, bare, as is the lower half of the tibia. Plumage soft, generally loose. Feathers of the upper part of the head long, tapering, decurved, two of them extremely elongated; of the back long and loose, of the rump soft and downy; scapulars with extremely long slender rather compact points. Feathers of the fore neck much elongated and extremely slender, of the sides of the breast anteriorly very large, curved and loose; of the forepart of the breast narrower and elongated, as they are generally on the rest of the lower surface; on the tibia short. Wings, large, rounded; primaries curved, strong, broad, tapering towards the end, the outer cut out on both margins, second and third longest; secondaries very large, broad and rounded, extending beyond the primaries when the wing is closed. Tail of moderate length, rounded, of twelve rather broad, rounded feathers.

Bill yellow, dusky green above, loral and orbital spaces light green. Iris bright yellow. Feet olivaceous, paler above the tibio-tarsal joints; claws black. Forehead pure white; the rest of the elongated feathers bluish-black; throat white, neck pale purplish-brown, the elongated feathers beneath greyish-white, part of their inner webs purplish-blue. Upper parts in general light greyish-blue, the elongated tips of the scapulars greyish-white, the edge of the wing, some feathers at the base of the fore neck, and the tibial feathers, brownish-orange. The two tufts of large curved feathers on the fore part of the breast bluish-black, some of them with a central stripe of white. Lower surface of the wings and the sides light greyish-blue; elongated feathers of the breast white, their inner edge black, of the abdomen chiefly black; lower tail-coverts white, some of them with an oblique mark of black near the tip.

Length to end of tail 48 inches, to end of claws 63 inches, extent of wings 72; bill 5 1/2, gape 7 4/12; tarsus 6 1/2, middle toe and claw 5, hind toe and claw 2 1/4, naked part of tibia 4; wings from flexure 20; tail 7.

The Female, when in full plumage, is precisely similar to the Male.

On Prince Edward’s Island, in the Gulf of St Lawrence, there is a fine breeding-place of the Great Blue Heron, which is probably the most northern on the Atlantic coast of North America. The birds there are more shy than they usually are at the period of breeding, and in the most cowardly manner abandon their young to the mercy of every intruder. A friend of mine who visited this place for the purpose of procuring adult birds in their best plumage, to add to his already extensive collection, found it extremely difficult to obtain his object, until he at length thought of covering himself with the hide of an ox, under the disguise of which he readily got within shot of the birds, which were completely deceived by the stratagem.

THE COMMON AMERICAN GULL.

Larus zonorhynchus, Richardson.
PLATE CCXII. Adult Male, and Young in winter.

No country can afford greater facilities for the migration of water-birds than the United States of America. Even the Gulls are enabled to traverse their whole extent from north to south, and in the contrary direction, without suffering from want of food or of proper resting places. The Gull that has been bred in Labrador, or still farther north, can reach the Gulf of Mexico without being seriously incommoded by the storms that now and then rage along the Atlantic coast. The broad waters of the St Lawrence leads it to our great lakes, from which hundreds of streams conduct it to the head waters of the Ohio or the Mississippi, by following the windings of which it at length arrives in the warm regions of the Mexican Gulf, on whose waters the traveller can spend the winter. That these advantages are embraced by many species of Gull, there can be no doubt; and should you, as I have done, repeatedly visit our broad lakes, or the great rivers just mentioned, you would find there, at particular seasons, not only this species, but several others, as well as various kinds of Terns, but none of the genus Lestris. Lake Erie supplies with food the Larus marinus, L. argentatus, L. atricilla, and some others, as well as the Great, the Arctic, the Roseate, and the Black Terns, all of which pass at times over to the Ohio, and from thence to the ocean. During these inland movements, the birds seem to be peculiarly attracted by certain places, at which they remain for a while. Thus, at the Falls of the Ohio, some species remain for weeks, and wherever much shipping occurs on that river or the Mississippi, Gulls are sure to be seen gleaning the garbage that has been thrown overboard, or seizing such fishes as rise incautiously to the surface of the water. In the months of September and October, Gulls and Terns might almost be said to abound on our great streams, and many return thither during the spring months on their way northward. Nay, to some species of Tern, the beautiful sand-bars and rocky beaches that occur here and there, are so attractive as to induce a few to remain and breed there. This is especially the case with the Black Terns, some of which rear their young by the rapids of the Ohio below Louisville, amidst the roaring sounds of which may be heard their shrill and continued cries.

You must not suppose, however, that all the Gulls which migrate in that country take the same route; for thousands follow the sinuosities of our Atlantic coast, some of them perhaps proceeding as far south in that direction as those which follow our rivers. My opinion is, that the feebler individuals of the different species follow the inland route, while the older and more hardy birds keep along the shores of the ocean. The examination of numerous specimens on both of these extensive tracks has almost rendered this a matter of certainty, yet I should be much pleased to find this opinion corroborated by the observations of any other student of nature.

While on the coast of Florida, in the winter of 1832-33, I every day saw Gulls of many species, but among them all were no adult birds, with the exception of the Black-headed Gull of Wilson, which was very abundant. This greatly tended to strengthen my opinion, that the young gulls are of more delicate constitution than their parents, which are better enabled to stand the rigours of the winter in the Middle States, where they are found equally abundant at that season. For similar reasons, I also feel assured that the oldest birds are those which go farthest north to breed, and that the older and stronger individuals are larger, with more purely tinted plumage, and with the colours of their legs, feet and bills, as well as of the circle around the eye, more vivid, than those which, although found breeding, yet have not acquired their full maturity. In consequence of these circumstances, some species have been described as forming several, and the great difference between the plumage of the young and the old birds has led to similar errors.

Our Common Gull is seldom seen in the adult plumage of winter beyond the shores of Maryland southward, or in full summer plumage beyond the Bay of New York, and this rarely after the middle of April, as at that period they gather into flocks, and remove farther north to breed. The places to which this species resorts for that purpose, and which I have visited, are several islands between Boston and Eastport, another close to Grand Manan at the entrance of the Bay of Fundy, the great Gannet Rock of the Gulf of St Lawrence, and certain rocky isles in the deep bays on the coast of Labrador.

This species, although one of those most abundant on our coast, is so well acquainted with the artifices of man, that it keeps more than others beyond the reach of the gun. While in our harbours or rivers it sails at a moderate height, sometimes mingling with the Silvery Gull, or even with the Great Black-backed. Its movements are graceful and easy, and it floats as it were in the air, whether proceeding in a direct line, or in irregular curves, when, suddenly checking its speed, it partially closes its wings, and descends with rapidity in a spiral manner. As it approaches the water, it allows its legs to hang, opens its bill, and while seizing its food, raises its wings erect and flaps them quickly to support its body. Now with loaded bill it sweeps off to some distance, alights, and devours its prey.

When in pursuit of a shoal of small fish, it assembles in flocks, keeps up a constant yelping noise, dips every instant among the fry, and continues to feed until so gorged as to be unable to fly. Alighting in groups, they float with great buoyancy, and it is pleasant to see them rising and falling alternately on the waves of a moderately agitated sea, the snowy whiteness of their under parts contrasting with the deep green water, and their elongated wings extending beyond the tail, giving the appearance of lightness and agility to their form.

The flight of this species is light and long sustained, and the circumstance of birds of this genus being able to find food almost anywhere, induces them at times to proceed far out to sea; and I have now and then been gratified by the sudden appearance of several birds of the present species to the lee of the ship, on whose deck I was with impatience watching for the sight of land. The winged pilgrims would no sooner come up than they also would express their pleasure by their cries, especially when they received from the passengers bits of bread or such garbage as might be at hand. Once fed, they would fly about us the whole day, and sometimes would be seen the next; and then perhaps all at once, as if made aware of the existence of land in a particular direction, they would fly off, and we would see no more of them.

When spring has fairly commenced, our Common Gulls assemble in parties of hundreds, and alight on mud flats or sandy beaches, in our eastern estuaries and bays. For a while they regularly resort to these places, which to the Gulls are what the scratching or tooting grounds are to the Pinnated Grous. The male Gulls, however, although somewhat pugnacious, are not very inveterate in their quarrels, making up by clamour for the deficiency of prowess in their tournaments. The males bow to the females with swollen throats, and walk round them with many odd gesticulations. As soon as the birds are paired, they give up their animosities, and for the rest of the season live together on the best terms. After a few weeks spent in these preparatory pleasures, the flocks take to wing, and betake themselves to their breeding places.

On an island within a few miles of Eastport in Maine, I found these birds breeding in great numbers in the beginning of May. Their nests were there placed amid the scanty tufts of grass. On the Gannet Rock, early in June, they were breeding on the shelves towards the summit, along with the Guillemots, while the Kittiwakes had secured their nests far below. The different species kept apart, but yet exhibited no antipathy towards each other. On the 18th of July, we discovered a low rocky island at the bottom of a bay ten miles from the open sea, opposite the harbour of Little Macatina, on the coast of Labrador, where we found upwards of two hundred nests, all containing eggs with the chicks more or less advanced. The number of eggs in each nest was three or four, more generally three. They resembled those of the Great Black-backed Gull in form and colour, but were much smaller, measuring two inches and three quarters in length, by one and five and a half eighths in their greatest diameter. There was considerable diversity both in the tint of their ground colour, and in the number and size of the spots on them, as is the case with the eggs of most water birds. In general, however, they were of a dull dark cream-colour, thickly blotched, sprinkled and touched with different shades of purple, umber, and black. When fresh, these eggs are delicious food, as I have had abundant occasion to know. The nests were in this place all situated on the bare rock, but in all other respects resembled those found among the grass or on more elevated rocks; they were formed of seaweeds, well constructed, about six inches across within, and twelve in their greatest diameter. Some of the nests were much thicker and larger than others; many were placed within the distance of a foot from each other; and the whole place was covered with feathers and dung, which emitted a very disagreeable stench, proving to us that it was annually resorted to by these birds. To our surprise the birds were very shy. Among those killed by us were some having all the appearance of mature age, such as I have mentioned above. The number of individuals among them having the black ring on the bill was much greater than among those found near Grand Manan; some, however, were without this ring, and on others it was but partially marked. Some had no white on the tips of the primaries, and differences were also observable in the length of the tarsus and toes; but all had the same voice, and were actually of the same species. We also found considerable differences in their size and weight, even in individuals of the same sex, some weighing one pound, others four ounces more, and some so much as one pound ten ounces. The males, at an average, were larger than the females. Not a bird of any other species was found there, or on the grassy islands.

Whatever opinion may be held as to the synonyms of this Gull, I am perfectly assured of the above mentioned variations in the colour, size, and markings of the younger and older birds. I am equally sure that no individuals acquire the full beauty of their plumage before the third spring. The young are at first of a dull greenish-yellow, spotted with dark brown on the head and rump. In a very few days they leave the nest, ramble about in its vicinity, waiting the arrival of their parents with food, and conceal themselves under stones or in crevices at the appearance of danger. When a few weeks old, they do not hesitate, on being pursued, to betake themselves to the water, where they swim with great lightness. When about the size of pigeons, they assume a brownish colour, each feather being broadly banded or tipped with light ferruginous and grey. At this season, the fishermen of Labrador and Newfoundland kill them in great numbers, and pack them in salt for winter use. I was much surprised one morning while at Labrador, to see one of the barges of the Gulnare come alongside of the Ripley after a long cruize, when officers and men were glad to have a good mess of these young Gulls in the bow of their boat, they having run short of provisions.

Larus zonorhynchus, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 421.

Ring-billed Mew-gull, Larus zonorhynchus, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 300.

Adult Male in summer plumage. Plate CCXII. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, robust, nearly straight, compressed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight at the base, arched and declinate towards the end, the ridge convex, the sides slightly convex, the edges sharp inflected, arched, the tip rather obtuse. Nasal groove rather long and narrow; nostrils in its fore part, lateral, longitudinal, linear, wider anteriorly, open, and pervious. Lower mandible with a prominence at the end of the angle, which is long and narrow, the dorsal line then nearly straight and ascending, the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected.

Head rather large. Neck of moderate length. Body rather full. Wings long. Feet of moderate length, rather slender; tibia bare below; tarsus somewhat compressed, covered before and behind with numerous broad scutella, the sides reticulated; hind toe very small and elevated, the fore toes rather long and slender, the fourth longer than the second, the third longest, all scutellate above, and connected by reticulated entire membranes, the lateral toes margined externally with a narrow membrane. Claws small, compressed, slightly arched, rather obtuse.

The plumage in general is close, elastic, very soft and blended, on the back rather compact. Wings very long, rather broad, acute, the first quill longest, the other primaries rapidly graduated; secondaries broad and rounded, the inner elongated and narrow. Tail of moderate length, even, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill marked opposite the angle with a broad transverse band of brownish-black, between which and the base it is light greenish-yellow, the tips orange-yellow. Edges of eyelids greenish-yellow; iris bright yellow. Feet greenish-yellow, the webs tinged with orange; claws black. The general colour of the plumage is pure white, excepting the back and wings, which are light pearl-grey. The first six quills are black towards their extremities, the first and second being almost entirely so, the sixth with only a small spot. The tips of these feathers are white, that of the first having merely a narrow margin of that colour, which gradually enlarges on the rest, the first moreover has near the end a long patch of white, the second a smaller one on the inner web. The proportional size of the white marks on the outer primaries varies in individuals. The other quills and secondaries are all white at the ends.

Length to end of tail 20 inches, to end of wings 22 1/4, to end of claws 20 1/2; extent of wings 48; wing from flexure 15 1/2, tail 6; bill along the back 1 3/4, along the edge 2 5/8, depth at the base 8 3/ 4 / 12 , depth at the prominence 1/2; bare part of the tibia 3/4, tarsus 2; middle toe 1 3/12, its claw 2 1/2/12; hind toe 2 1/2/12, its claw 3/12. Weight 1 1/2 lb.

Young bird, after first moult, shot on 26th November. Plate CCXII. Fig. 2.

Bill black, base of lower mandible and edges of upper towards the base, livid flesh-colour. Edges of eyelids livid blue; iris hazel. Feet purplish-grey; claws brownish-black. The general colour of the plumage is dull white, mottled with greyish-brown beneath, on the back with large brownish-black spots, the dark markings being central. Anterior to the eye is a crescent of greyish-black. The outer primary quills are black, the two first without white at the ends, the rest margined round the ends with that colour. The abdominal and tibial feathers are white; the lower and upper tail-coverts white, with brown spots.

Length to end of tail 18 3/8, to end of wings 20 1/2, extent of wings 44 1/2; tarsus 2, middle toe 1 3/12, its claws 2/12. Weight 1 lb. 3 ounces.

On a rocky island on the coast of Labrador, where this bird was breeding in great numbers, a comparatively small number of individuals only had the bill marked with the black ring, the others, although precisely similar in other respects, wanted that mark. This bird although in many respects precisely similar to that which is usually named Larus canus in Europe, differs greatly in the size of the bill, which even in young birds is much deeper than in the oldest individuals of that species.

THE PUFFIN.

Mormon arcticus, Illiger.
PLATE CCXIII. Male and Female.

The Sea Parrot, as this bird is usually called on the eastern coasts of the United States, as well as by the fishermen of Newfoundland and Labrador, sometimes proceeds as far south as the entrance of the River Savannah in Georgia, where I saw a good number in the winter of 1831-32. It is by no means, however, common with this species to extend its southward migrations so far, and I suspect it does so only in very severe weather. It is never plentiful off Long Island, but becomes more abundant the farther you proceed eastward, until you reach the entrance to the Bay of Fundy, where it is quite common, and on the Islands of which many breed, although not one perhaps now for a hundred that bred there twenty years ago. Those which proceed farther north leave the United States about the middle of April, and move along the coast, none ever crossing over the land to any extent. On my voyage to Labrador I observed Puffins every day; but although we reached that country in the early part of June, none had then begun to breed. As we approached the shores of that inhospitable land, we every now and then saw them around the vessel, now floating on the swelling wave, now disappearing under the bow, diving with the swiftness of thought, and sometimes rising on wing and flying swiftly, but low, over the sea. The nearer we approached the coast the more abundant did we find the Puffins, and sometimes they were so numerous as actually to cover the water to the extent of half an acre or more. At first we paid little attention to them, but as soon as I became aware that they had begun to breed, I commenced an investigation, of which I now proceed to lay before you the result.

The first breeding place which I and my party visited was a small island, a few acres in extent, and pleasant to the eye, on account of the thick growth of green grass with which it was covered. The shores were exceedingly rugged, the sea ran high, and it required all the good management of our captain to effect a safe landing, which, however, was at length accomplished at a propitious moment, when, borne on the summit of a great wave, we reached the first rocks, leaped out in an instant, and held our boat, while the angry waters rolled back and left it on the land. After securing the boat, we reached with a few steps the green sward, and directly before us found abundance of Puffins. Some already alarmed flew past us with the speed of an arrow, others stood erect at the entrance of their burrows, while some more timid withdrew within their holes as we advanced towards them. In the course of half an hour we obtained a good number. The poor things seemed not at all aware of the effect of guns, for they would fly straight towards us as often as in any other direction; but after a while they became more knowing, and avoided us with more care. We procured some eggs, and as no young ones were yet to be found, we went off satisfied. The soil was so light, and so easily dug, that many of the burrows extended to the depth of five or six feet, although not more than a few inches below the surface, and some of the poor birds underwent a temporary imprisonment in consequence of the ground giving way under our weight. The whole island was perforated like a rabbit-warren, and every hole had its entrance placed due south, a circumstance which allowed the birds to emerge in our sight almost all at once, presenting a spectacle highly gratifying to us all. Our visit to this island took place on the 28th of June 1833.

On the 12th of August, the day after my son procured the two Jerfalcons mentioned in the second volume of this work, our Captain, my friends George Shattuck and William Ingalls, with four sailors, and another boat in company, went on a visit to “Perroket Island,” distant about two miles from the harbour of Bras d’Or. The place is known to all the cod-fishers, and is celebrated for the number of Puffins that annually breed there. As we rowed towards it, although we found the water literally covered with thousands of these birds, the number that flew over and around the green island seemed much greater, insomuch that one might have imagined half the Puffins in the world had assembled there. This far-famed isle is of considerable extent, its shores are guarded by numberless blocks of rock, and within a few yards of it the water is several fathoms in depth. The ground rises in the form of an amphitheatre to the height of about seventy feet, the greatest length being from north to south, and its southern extremity fronting the Streight of Belleisle. For every burrow in the island previously visited by us there seemed to be a hundred here, on every crag or stone stood a Puffin, at the entrance of each hole another, and yet the sea was covered and the air filled by them. I had two double-barrelled guns and two sailors to assist me; and I shot for one hour by my watch, always firing at a single bird on wing. How many Puffins I killed in that time I take the liberty of leaving you to guess.

The burrows were all inhabited by young birds, of different ages and sizes, and clouds of Puffins flew over our heads, each individual holding a “lint” by the head. This fish, which measures four or five inches in length, and is of a very slender form, with a beautiful silvery hue, existed in vast shoals in the deep water around the island. The speed with which the birds flew made the fish incline by the side of their neck. While flying the Puffins emitted a loud croaking noise, but they never dropped the fish, and many of them, when brought down by a shot, still held their prey fast. I observed with concern the extraordinary affection manifested by these birds towards each other; for whenever one fell dead or wounded on the water, its mate or a stranger immediately alighted by its side, swam round it, pushed it with its bill as if to urge it to fly or dive, and seldom would leave it until an oar was raised to knock it on the head, when at last, aware of the danger, it would plunge below in an instant. Those which fell wounded immediately ran with speed to some hole, and dived into it, on which no further effort was made to secure them. Those which happened to be caught alive in the hand bit most severely, and scratched with their claws at such a rate that we were glad to let them escape. The burrows here communicated in various ways with each other, so that the whole island was perforated as if by a multitude of subterranean labyrinths, over which one could not run without the risk of falling at almost every step. The voices of the young sounded beneath our feet like voices from the grave, and the stench was extremely disagreeable, so that as soon as our boats were filled with birds we were glad to get away.

During the whole of our visit, the birds never left the place, but constantly attended to their avocations. Here one would rise from beneath our feet, there, within a few yards of us, another would alight with a fish, and dive into its burrow, or feed the young that stood waiting at the entrance. The young birds were far from being friendly towards each other, and those which we carried with us kept continually fighting so long as we kept them alive. They used their yet extremely small and slender bills with great courage and pertinacity, and their cries resembled the wailings of young whelps. The smaller individuals were fed by the parents by regurgitation, or received little pieces of fish which were placed in their mouths; the larger picked up the fish that were dropped before them; but almost all of them seemed to crawl to the entrance of the holes for the purpose of being fed. In all the burrows that communicated with others, a round place was scooped out on one side of the avenue, in the form of an oven; while in those which were single, this oven-like place was found at the end, and was larger than the corridor. All the passages were flattish above, and rounded beneath, as well as on the sides. In many instances we found two birds sitting each on its egg in the same hole.

The Puffin never lays more than one egg, unless the first may have been destroyed or taken away; nor does it raise more than a single young one in the season. The time of incubation is probably from twenty-five to twenty-eight days, although I have not been able to ascertain the precise period. Both birds work in digging the hole, using their bills and feet; they also sit alternately on their egg, although the female engages more industriously in this occupation, while the male labours harder at the burrow. The egg is pure white when first deposited, but soon becomes soiled by the earth, as no nest is formed for its reception. It generally measures two and a half inches by one and three-fourths, but varies in size according to the age of the bird, as well as in shape, some being considerably more rounded at the smaller end than others. When boiled, the white is of a livid-blue colour. The captain and myself were the only persons of our party who tried to eat some. The eggs are certainly very bad, and are never collected by “The Eggers.” The flesh of the birds is very dark, tough, and so fishy, as to be eatable only in cases of great want. Two Italians who had come to Labrador to purchase cod-fish, and were short of provisions, fed upon Puffins daily, to the great amusement of our party. The fishermen at times, when bait is scarce along the coast, destroy a great number of these birds, which they skin like rabbits, and then cut the flesh into slices.

The flight of the Puffin is firm, generally direct, now and then pretty well sustained. It is able to rise at once from the water or the land, although at times it runs on both before taking to wing. This depends much on necessity, for if pushed it flies at once from the ground, or plunges under the surface of the water. There they swim, with the wings partially opened, at a small depth, passing along in the manner of Divers; and by this means they catch their prey; but at other times they dive to the bottom, many fathoms deep, for shell-fish and other objects.

During the love season, the males chase each other in the air, on the water, or beneath its surface, with so much quickness, as to resemble the ricochets of a cannon-ball. Having kept several for about a week, I threw them overboard in the harbour where we were at anchor, and where the water was beautifully clear. On leaving my gloved hand, they plunged through the air, entered the water, and swam off, assisting themselves by their wings to the distance of from fifty to an hundred yards. On coming up, they washed their plumage for a long time, and then dived in search of food. While on board, they ran about from the dark towards the light, keeping themselves erect, and moving with great briskness, until at times close to my feet, when they would watch my motions like hawks, and if I happened to look towards them, would instantly make for some hiding-place. They fed freely and were agreeable pets, only that they emitted an unpleasant grunting noise, and ran about incessantly during the night, when each footstep could be counted. When on rocky shores, or islands with large stones, I observed that the Puffins often flew from one crag or stone to another, alighting with ease, and then standing erect.

The young, while yet covered with down, are black, with a white patch on the belly. Their bills do not acquire much of the form which they ultimately have for several weeks; nor do they assume their perfect shape for years. I have examined many hundred individuals, among which I have found great differences in the size and form of the bill. In fact, the existence of this diversity has induced many persons to think that we have several species of Puffin on our coasts; but, after having examined many specimens in Europe, I am decidedly of opinion that this species is the same that occurs in both continents, and that we have only one more at all common on our eastern coasts. The sexes differ in no perceptible degree, only that the males are somewhat larger. When two years old they may be considered of their full size, although the bill continues to grow and acquires furrows, until it becomes as you see it in the Plate.

Alca arctica, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 211.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 792.

Mormon arcticus, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 430.

Puffin, or Coulterneb, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 542.

Adult Male in summer. Plate CCXIII. Fig. 1.

Bill about the length of the head, nearly as high as long, exceedingly compressed, at the base as high as the head, obliquely furrowed on the sides. Upper mandible with a horny rim along the basal margin, its dorsal line curved from the base, the ridge very narrow but rounded, the sides rapidly sloped, and marked with three curved oblique grooves, the edges obtuse, their outline nearly straight, the tip deflected, very narrow but obtuse. Between the basal rim and the first groove is a triangular flat space analogous to the nasal groove, in the lower part of which, close to the edge of the bill, is the linear direct nostril. Lower mandible with the angle very narrow, and so placed that the base of the bill is inflected beyond the perpendicular, the dorsal line a little convex at first, towards the end straight, the ridge narrow, broader about the middle, the sides nearly flat, grooved and ridged as in the upper, the edges strong, the tip very narrow. The gape extends downwards a little beyond the base of the bill, and is furnished with a soft corrugated extensible membrane.

Head large, oblong, anteriorly compressed. Eye rather small, with bare orbits; over the upper eyelid an oblong, nearly erect, horny body, along the lower a more elongated one of the same nature. Neck short and thick. Body full and rounded. Wings short. Feet short, rather stout; tibia bare for a short way above the joint. Tarsus very short, little compressed, anteriorly with a series of small scutella, the rest with reticular angular scales. Hind toe wanting. Toes of moderate length, rather slender, scutellate above, connected by reticulated entire membranes which project a little, the third and fourth toes about equal, the second considerably shorter, with a narrow marginal web. Claws strong, of moderate length, compressed, slightly arched, that of the inner toe much curved and acute.

Plumage close, blended, soft, very short on the head. Wings curved, short, narrow, acute. Primary quills narrow, incurved, first longest, second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated. Secondaries very short, small and rounded. Tail very short, slightly rounded, of sixteen narrow rounded feathers.

Bill with the basal rim and first ridge of upper mandible dull yellow, the intervening space greyish-blue, basal margin of lower bright red, first ridge and intervening space as in the upper, the rest bright red (carmine tinged with vermilion); membrane at the base of the gape gamboge-yellow, inside of mouth and tongue yellow. Edge of eyelids vermilion, horny appendages of eyelids greyish-blue. Iris light blue. Feet vermilion, claws black. Throat and sides of the head white, that colour extending over the eye, and passing in a narrow line behind the occiput. Upper part of the head blackish-grey, tinged with olive, paler anteriorly. The middle of the neck all round, and all the upper parts of the body, deep black, with blue reflections, the quills tinged with brown. The whole under surface white, except the upper part of the sides, which are dusky.

Length to end of tail 11 3/4 inches, to end of claws 13 1/2, extent of wings 23; bill along the back 2, along the edge of upper mandible 1 1/4; depth of bill at base 1 5/8, its greatest diameter 5/8; tarsus 1, middle toe 1 1/2, its claw 1/2. Weight 3/4 lb.

Female. Plate CCXIII. Fig. 2.

The Female is precisely similar to the male, but of somewhat smaller size.

THE RAZOR-BILLED AUK.

Alca Torda, Linn.
PLATE CCXIV. Male and Female.

A few birds of this species occasionally go as far south as New York during winter; but beyond that parallel I never met with one. From Boston eastward many are seen, and some breed on the Seal Islands off the entrance of the Bay of Fundy. These Auks generally arrive on our Atlantic coast about the beginning of November, and return northward to breed about the middle of April. During their stay with us, they are generally seen singly, and at a greater distance from the shores than the Guillemots or Puffins; and I have no doubt that they are able to procure shell-fish at greater depths than these birds. I have observed them fishing on banks where the bottom was fifteen or eighteen fathoms from the surface, and, from the length of time that they remained under water, felt no doubt that they dived to it. On my voyage round Nova Scotia and across the Gulf of St Lawrence, we saw some of them constantly. Some had eggs on the Magdeleine Islands, where, as the inhabitants informed us, these birds arrive about the middle of April, when the Gulf is still covered with ice. As we proceeded towards Labrador, they passed us every now and then in long files, flying at the height of a few yards from the water, in a rather undulating manner, with a constant beat of the wings, often within musket-shot of our vessel, and sometimes moving round us and coming so close as to induce us to believe that they had a wish to alight. The thermometer indicated 44°. The sight of these files of birds passing swiftly by was extremely pleasing; each bird would alternately turn towards us the pure white of its lower parts, and again the jetty black of the upper. As I expected ere many days should pass to have the gratification of inspecting their breeding grounds, I experienced great delight in observing them as they sped their flight toward the north.

After we had landed, we every day procured Auks, notwithstanding their shyness, which exceeded that of almost all the other sea-birds. The fishermen having given me an account of their principal breeding places, the Ripley proceeded toward them apace. One fair afternoon we came in view of the renowned Harbour of Whapati Guan, and already saw its curious beacon, which, being in form like a huge mounted cannon placed on the elevated crest of a great rock, produced a most striking effect. We knew that the harbour was within the stupendous wall of rock before us, but our pilot, either from fear or want of knowledge, refused to guide us to it, and our captain, leaving the vessel in charge of the mate, was obliged to go off in a boat, to see if he could find a passage. He was absent more than an hour. The Ripley stood off and on, the yards were manned on the look-out, the sea was smooth and its waters as clear as crystal, but the swell rose to a prodigious height as it passed sluggishly over the great rocks that seemed to line the shallows over which we floated. We were under no apprehension of personal danger, however, for we had several boats and a very efficient crew; and besides, the shores were within cannon shot; but the idea of losing our gallant bark and all our materials on so dismal a coast haunted my mind, and at times those of my companions. From the tops our sailors called out “Quite shallow here, Sir.” Up went the helm, and round swung the Ripley like a duck taken by surprise. Then suddenly near another shoal we passed, and were careful to keep a sharp look-out until our commander came up.

Springing upon the deck, and turning his quid rapidly from side to side, he called out, “All hands square the yards,” and whispered to me “All’s safe, my good Sir.” The schooner advanced towards the huge barrier, merrily as a fair maiden to meet her beloved; now she doubles a sharp cape, forces her way through a narrow pass; and lo! before you opens the noble harbour of Whapati Guan. All around was calm and solemn; the waters were smooth as glass, the sails fell against the masts, but the impetus which the vessel had received urged her along. The lead was heaved at every yard, and in a few minutes the anchor was dropped.

Reader, I wish you had been there, that you might yourself describe the wild scene that presented itself to our admiring gaze. We were separated from the rolling swell of the Gulf of St Lawrence by an immense wall of rock. Far away toward the east and north, rugged mounds innumerable rose one above another. Multitudes of frightened Cormorants croaked loudly as they passed us in the air, and at a distance fled divers Guillemots and Auks. The mossy beds around us shone with a brilliant verdure, the lark piped its sweet notes on high, and thousands of young codfish leaped along the surface of the deep cove as if with joy. Such a harbour I had never seen before; such another, it is probable, I may never see again; the noblest fleet that ever ploughed the ocean might anchor in it in safety. To augment our pleasures, our captain some days after piloted the Gulnare into it. But, you will say, “Where are the Auks, we have lost sight of them entirely.” Never fear, good reader, we are in a delightful harbour, and anon you shall hear of them.

Winding up the basin toward the north-east, Captain Emery, myself, and some sailors, all well armed, proceeded one day along the high and precipitous shores to the distance of about four miles, and at last reached the desired spot. We landed on a small rugged island. Our men were provided with long poles, having hooks at their extremities. These sticks were introduced into the deep and narrow fissures, from which we carefully drew the birds and eggs. One place, in particular, was full of birds; it was a horizontal fissure, about two feet in height, and thirty or forty yards in depth. We crawled slowly into it, and as the birds affrighted flew hurriedly past us by hundreds, many of their eggs were smashed. The farther we advanced, the more dismal did the cries of the birds sound in our ears. Many of them, despairing of effecting their escape, crept into the surrounding recesses. Having collected as many of them and their eggs as we could, we returned, and glad were we once more to breathe the fresh air. No sooner were we out than the cracks of the sailors’ guns echoed among the rocks. Rare fun to the tars, in fact, was every such trip, and, when we joined them, they had a pile of Auks on the rocks near them. The birds flew directly towards the muzzles of the guns, as readily as in any other course, and therefore it needed little dexterity to shoot them.

When the Auks deposit their eggs along with the Guillemots, which they sometimes do, they drop them in spots from which the water can escape without injuring them; but when they breed in deep fissures, which is more frequently the case, many of them lie close together, and the eggs are deposited on small beds of pebbles or broken stones raised a couple of inches or more, to let the water pass beneath them. Call this instinct if you will:—I really do not much care; but you must permit me to admire the wonderful arrangements of that Nature from which they have received so much useful knowledge. When they lay their eggs in such a horizontal cavern as that which I have mentioned above, you find them scattered at the distance of a few inches from each other; and there, as well as in the fissures, they sit flat upon them like Ducks, for example, whereas on an exposed rock, each bird stands almost upright upon its egg. Another thing quite as curious, which I observed, is, that, while in exposed situations, the Auk seldom lays more than one egg, yet in places of greater security I have, in many instances, found two under a single bird. This may perhaps astonish you, but I really cannot help it.

The Razor-billed Auks begin to drop their eggs in the beginning of May. In July we found numerous young ones, although yet small. Their bill then scarcely exhibited the form which it ultimately assumes. They were covered with down, had a lisping note, but fed freely on shrimps and small bits of fish, the food with which their parents supply them. They were very friendly towards each other, differing greatly in this respect from the young Puffins, which were continually quarrelling. They stood almost upright. Whenever a finger was placed within their reach, they instantly seized it, and already evinced the desire to bite severely so cordially manifested by the old birds of this species, which in fact will hang to your hand until choked rather than let go their hold. The latter when wounded threw themselves on their back, in the manner of Hawks, and scratched fiercely with their claws. They walked and ran on the rocks with considerable ease and celerity, taking to wing, however, as soon as possible. When thus disturbed while breeding, they fly round the spot many times before they alight again. Sometimes a whole flock will alight on the water at some distance, to watch your departure, before they will venture to return.

This bird lays one or two eggs, according to the nature of the place. The eggs measure at an average three inches and one-eighth, by two and one-eighth, and are generally pure white, greatly blotched with dark reddish-brown or black, the spots generally forming a circle towards the larger end. They differ considerably from those of the Common and the Thick-billed Guillemots, being less blunted at the smaller end. The eggs afford excellent eating; the yolk is of a pale orange colour, the white pale blue. The eggers collect but few of the eggs of this bird, they being more difficult to be obtained than those of the Guillemot, of which they take vast numbers every season.

The food of the Razor-billed Auk consists of shrimps, various other marine animals, and small fishes, as well as roe. Their flesh is by the fishers considered good, and I found it tolerable, when well stewed, although it is dark and therefore not prepossessing. The birds are two years in acquiring the full size and form of their bill, and, when full grown, they weighed about a pound and a half. The stomach is an oblong sac, the lower part of which is rather muscular, and answers the purpose of a gizzard. In many I found scales, remnants of fish, and pieces of shells. The intestines were upwards of three feet in length.

Immediately after the breeding season, these birds drop their quills, and are quite unable to fly until the beginning of October, when they all leave their breeding grounds for the sea, and move southward. The young at this period scarcely shew the white streak between the bill and the eye; their cheeks, like those of the old birds at this time, and the fore part of the neck, are dingy white, and remain so until the following spring, when the only difference between the young and the old is, that the former have the bill smaller and less furrowed, and the head more brown. The back, tail, and lower parts do not seem to undergo any material change.

Alca Torda, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 210.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 793.—Ch. Bonap. Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 431.

Razor-bill, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 547.

Adult Male in summer. Plate CCXIV. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, feathered as far as the nostrils, beyond which it is very high, exceedingly compressed, and obliquely furrowed on the sides. Upper mandible with the dorsal line curved so as to form the third of a circle, the ridge extremely narrow but rounded, the sides nearly flat, with five grooves, the one next the base deeper and more narrow, the edges inflected and sharp, the tip decurved and obtuse. Nostrils medial, marginal, linear, short, pervious, but concealed by the feathers. Lower mandible with the angle very narrow, and having a horny triangular appendage, the base at first horizontal and extremely narrow, then sloping forwards and rounded, the dorsal outline rounded, towards the end concave, the sides slightly concave, the edges inflected, the tip decurved.

Head large, oblong, anteriorly narrowed. Eyes small. Neck short and strong. Body full, rather depressed. Wings small. Feet placed far behind, short, rather strong; tibia bare a short way above the joint; tarsus very short, compressed, anteriorly scutellate, laterally covered with reticulated angular scales, posteriorly granulate. Hind toe wanting; toes of moderate length, rather slender, scutellate above, connected by reticulated entire membranes, the inner toe having also a projecting margin; outer toe slightly longer than middle one; inner considerably shorter. Claws rather small, arched, compressed, obtuse.

Plumage close, blended, very soft, on the head very short and velvety. Wings short, curved, narrow, acute. Primary quills narrow, incurved, acute, first longest, second slightly shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondary quills very short, obliquely rounded. Tail short, tapering, of twelve narrow, pointed feathers.

Bill black, with a white line across each mandible; inside of the mouth gamboge-yellow. Iris deep hazel. Feet black. Fore part of neck below, and all the lower parts, white; the rest black, the head, hind neck, and back, glossed with olive-green, the throat and sides of the neck tinged with chocolate, the wings with brown, the tips of the secondary quills, and a narrow line from the bill to the eye, white.

Length to the end of tail 17 inches, to the end of claws 17 3/4; extent of wings 29 1/2; wing from flexure 8 1/4, tail 4; bill along the ridge 1 7/12, along the edge 2 2/12, its greatest depth 11/12; tarsus 1 2/12, middle toe 1 8/12, its claw 5/12. Weight 1 1/2 pound.

Adult Female in summer. Plate CCXIV. Fig. 2.

The female is precisely similar to the male.

The Young in their winter plumage have the colouring distributed as in the old birds, but with the black duller, the wings more brown, the throat and sides of the head mottled with white, the white line from the bill to the eye existing, but the bill much smaller, without furrows or a white line.

The Old Birds in winter have the throat and sides of the neck mottled as described above; but in other respects their colours are the same as in summer.

The gullet wide, dilated towards the lower extremity, its mucous coat longitudinally corrugated; the proventriculus very wide and glandular; the stomach rather small, oblong, muscular, with an inner, longitudinally corrugated and horny cuticular coat. Pylorus very small; intestine near its commencement 4/12 of an inch in diameter, gradually contracted to the cæca, where it is 2/12: cæca half an inch long, tapering. The length of the gullet and stomach together is 8, that of the intestine 41 inches.

HYPERBOREAN PHALAROPE.

Phalaropus hyperboreus, Lath.
PLATE CCXV. Male, Female, and Young.

Few individuals of this species are ever seen to the South of New York. Near Boston I procured several, and my learned friend Thomas Nuttall presented me with some that had been shot in the neighbourhood of that city, as did Mr John Bethune and Mr Rodman of New Bedford. As we advanced eastward in the month of May, we saw more and more of them, and while at Eastport in Maine my son John shot several out of flocks of sixty or more. At one time a flock consisting of more than a hundred was seen in the Bay of Fundy. They were exceedingly shy, and the gunners of Eastport, who knew them under the name of Sea Geese, spoke of them as very curious birds.

They procure their food principally upon the water, on which they alight like Ducks, float as light as Gulls, and move about in search of food with much nimbleness. The sight of a bank of floating sea-weeds or garbage of any kind induces them at once to alight upon it, when they walk about as unconcernedly as if on land. Their notes, which resemble the syllables tweet, tweet, tweet, are sharp and clear, and in their flight they resemble our common American Snipe. At the approach of an enemy, they immediately close their ranks, until they almost touch each other, when great havock is made among them; but if not immediately shot at, they rise all at once and fly swiftly off emitting their shrill cries, and remove to a great distance. These Phalaropes congregate in this manner for the purpose of moving northwards to their breeding grounds, although some remain and breed as far south as Mount Desert Island. I have met with them in equally large flocks at a distance of more than a hundred miles from the shores. They were feeding on great beds of floating seaweeds, and in several instances some Red Phalaropes were seen in their company.

Whilst in Labrador, I observed that the Hyperborean Phalarope occurred only in small parties of a few pairs, and that instead of keeping at sea or on the salt-water bays, they were always in the immediate vicinity of small fresh-water lakes or ponds, near which they bred. The nest was a hollow scooped out among the herbage, and covered with a few bits of dried grass and moss. The eggs are always four; they measure at an average an inch and three-sixteenths in length, seven-eighths in their greatest diameter, are rather pointed at the smaller end, and are more uniform in their size and markings than those of most water-birds. The ground colour is a deep dull buff, and is irregularly marked with large and small blotches of dark reddish-brown, which are larger and more abundant on the crown. The birds shewed great anxiety for the safety of their eggs, limping before us, or running with extended wings, and emitting a feeble melancholy note as if about to expire. When we approached them, they resumed all their natural alacrity, piped in their usual manner, flew off and alighted on the water. Captain Emery and myself followed some nearly an hour, assisted by a pointer dog, in the hope of tiring them out; but they seemed to laugh at our efforts, and when Dash was quite close to them, they would suddenly fly off in another direction, and with great swiftness, always leading us farther from their nests. The young leave the nest shortly after they are hatched, and run after their parents over the moss, and along the edges of the small ponds; but I saw none on the water that were not fully fledged. Both young and old had departed by the beginning of August.

The Hyperborean Phalarope seems to undergo an almost continual moult, and is in full plumage only about six weeks each year. The young when fledged are nearly grey above, and all white beneath. Some of them breed before they have acquired what may be considered the perfect plumage; and the very old birds become greyish also at the approach of winter, the red of the throat and other parts becoming bright again in the beginning of May, or sometimes in April. The scapulars of the young are conspicuously shorter than the longest primaries, but after the first moult are equal in length. The upper wing-coverts are then also short.

I have never met with this species in any part of the interior, although I have procured the Red Phalarope and Wilson’s Phalarope in many parts to the west of the Alleghany Mountains, at a distance of more than a thousand miles from the sea coast.

Phalaropus hyperboreus, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 774.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 342.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 406.

Hyperborean Phalarope, Ch. Bonaparte, Amer. Ornith. vol. iii.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 239.

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

Bill long, very slender, flexible, nearly cylindrical, but towards the point tapering. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight, excepting at the end, where it is a little curved, the ridge broad and depressed, the sides slightly sloping, the edges rounded, and inflected towards the narrow slightly curved, acute tip. Nasal groove long, linear; nostrils basal, linear, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long and narrow, the sides convex, the tip narrowed.

Head small, with the fore part high and rounded. Eyes small. Neck rather long and slender. Body slender. Wings long. Feet of moderate length, slender; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus much compressed, narrowed before, very thin behind, covered anteriorly with numerous scutella; toes slender; first extremely small, free, with a slight membrane beneath; second slightly shorter than fourth, third considerably longer; toes all scutellate above, margined on both sides with lobed and pectinated membranes, which are united at the base, so as to render the foot half webbed; the outer web much longer than the inner. Claws very small, compressed, arched, that of the middle toe with a recurved sharp edge.

Plumage soft and blended. Feathers of the back, and especially the scapulars, elongated. Wings long and pointed; primary quills tapering, but rounded, the first longest, the second scarcely shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondary quills rather short and narrow, the inner tapering and elongated so as nearly to equal the longest primaries when the wing is closed. Tail rather short, much rounded, of twelve feathers.

Bill black. Iris dark brown. Feet bluish-grey; claws black. The general colour of the upper parts is greyish-black, the head lighter and more tinged with grey, the scapulars and some of the feathers of the back edged with yellowish-red, of which colour also are the sides of the head and neck; throat and sides of the upper part of the neck white. Wing-coverts and quills brownish-black, tinged with grey, the shafts of the quills, the margins and tips of the secondaries, and a broad bar on the tips of the secondary coverts, white. Tail light grey, the feathers margined with white, the two middle ones dark brownish-grey, the lateral upper tail-coverts white, barred with dusky. The breast and abdomen white.

Length to end of tail 6 inches, to end of claws 6 1/4, to end of wing 5 3/4; extent of wings 13 1/2; wing from flexure 4 1/2; tail 2 1/4; bill along the back 11/12, along the edge of lower mandible 11/12; tarsus 10/12, middle toe 10/12, its claw 2/12.

Adult Female. Plate CCXV. Fig. 2.

The Female is similar to the male, but the red markings are not so deep in tint.

Young fully fledged. Plate CCXV. Fig. 3.

The young bird has the markings similarly disposed, but the upper parts are in general of a dull dark grey, the red of the neck much fainter, and that of the scapulars much paler, and inclining to greyish-yellow.

FISHING IN THE OHIO.

It is with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret that I recall to my mind the many pleasant days I have spent on the shores of the Ohio. The visions of former years crowd on my view, as I picture to myself the fertile soil and genial atmosphere of our great western garden, Kentucky, and view the placid waters of the fair stream that flows along its western boundary. Methinks I am now on the banks of the noble river. Twenty years of my life have returned to me; my sinews are strong, and the “bowstring of my spirit is not slack;” bright visions of the future float before me, as I sit on a grassy bank, gazing on the glittering waters. Around me are dense forests of lofty trees and thickly tangled undergrowth, amid which are heard the songs of feathered choristers, and from whose boughs hang clusters of glowing fruits and beautiful flowers. Reader, I am very happy. But now the dream has vanished, and here I am in the British Athens, penning an episode for my Ornithological Biography, and having before me sundry well-thumbed and weather-beaten folios, from which I expect to be able to extract some interesting particulars respecting the methods employed in those days in catching Cat-fish.

But, before entering on my subject, I will present you with a brief description of the place of my residence on the banks of the Ohio. When I first landed at Henderson in Kentucky, my family, like the village, was quite small. The latter consisted of six or eight houses; the former of my wife, myself, and a young child. Few as the houses were, we fortunately found one empty. It was a log-cabin, not a log-house; but as better could not be had, we were pleased. Well, then, we were located. The country around was thinly peopled, and all purchasable provisions rather scarce; but our neighbours were friendly, and we had brought with us flour and bacon-hams. Our pleasures were those of young people not long married, and full of life and merriment; a single smile from our infant was, I assure you, more valued by us than all the treasures of a modern Crœsus would have been. The woods were amply stocked with game, the river with fish; and now and then the hoarded sweets of the industrious bees were brought from some hollow tree to our little table. Our child’s cradle was our richest piece of furniture, our guns and fishing-lines our most serviceable implements, for although we began to cultivate a garden, the rankness of the soil kept the seeds we planted far beneath the tall weeds that sprung up the first year. I had then a partner, a “man of business,” and there was also with me a Kentucky youth, who much preferred the sports of the forest and river to either day-book or ledger. He was naturally, as I may say, a good woodsman, hunter, and angler, and, like me, thought chiefly of procuring supplies of fish and fowl. To the task accordingly we directed all our energies.

Quantity as well as quality was an object with us, and although we well knew that three species of Cat-fish existed in the Ohio, and that all were sufficiently good, we were not sure as to the best method of securing them. We determined, however, to work on a large scale, and immediately commenced making a famous “trot-line.” Now, reader, as you may probably know nothing about this engine, I shall describe it to you.

A trot-line is one of considerable length and thickness, both qualities, however, varying according to the extent of water, and the size of the fish you expect to catch. As the Ohio, at Henderson, is rather more than half a mile in breadth, and as Cat-fishes weigh from one to an hundred pounds, we manufactured a line which measured about two hundred yards in length, as thick as the little finger of some fair one yet in her teens, and as white as the damsel’s finger well could be, for it was wholly of Kentucky cotton, just, let me tell you, because that substance stands the water better than either hemp or flax. The main line finished, we made a hundred smaller ones, about five feet in length, to each of which we fastened a capital hook of Kirby and Co.’s manufacture. Now for the bait!

It was the month of May. Nature had brought abroad myriads of living beings: they covered the earth, glided through the water, and swarmed in the air. The Cat-fish is a voracious creature, not at all nice in feeding, but one who, like the vulture, contents himself with carrion when nothing better can be had. A few experiments proved to us that, of the dainties with which we tried to allure them to our hooks, they gave a decided preference, at that season, to live toads. These animals were very abundant about Henderson. They ramble or feed, whether by instinct or reason, during early or late twilight more than at any other time, especially after a shower, and are unable to bear the heat of the sun’s rays for several hours before and after noon. We have a good number of these crawling things in America, particularly in the western and southern parts of the Union, and are very well supplied with frogs, snakes, lizards, and even crocodiles, which we call alligators; but there is enough of food for them all, and we generally suffer them to creep about, to leap or to flounder as they please, or in accordance with the habits which have been given them by the great Conductor of all.

During the month of May, and indeed until autumn, we found an abundant supply of toads. Many “fine ladies,” no doubt, would have swooned, or at least screamed and gone into hysterics, had they seen one of our baskets filled with these animals, all alive and plump. Fortunately we had no tragedy queen or sentimental spinster at Henderson. Our Kentucky ladies mind their own affairs, and seldom meddle with those of others farther than to do all they can for their comfort. The toads, collected one by one, and brought home in baskets, were deposited in a barrel for use. And now that night is over, and as it is the first trial we are going to give our trot-line, just watch our movements from that high bank beside the stream. There sit down under the large cotton-wood tree. You are in no danger of catching cold at this season.

My assistant follows me with a gaff hook, while I carry the paddle of our canoe; a boy bears on his back a hundred toads as good as ever hopped. Our line—oh, I forgot to inform you that we had set it last night, but without the small ones you now see on my arm. Fastening one end to yon sycamore, we paddled our canoe, with the rest nicely coiled in the stern, and soon reached its extremity, when I threw over the side the heavy stone fastened to it as a sinker. All this was done that it might be thoroughly soaked, and without kinks or snarls in the morning. Now, you observe, we launch our light bark, the toads in the basket are placed next to my feet in the bow; I have the small lines across my knees all ready looped at the end. Nat, with the paddle, and assisted by the current, keeps the stern of our boat directly down stream; and David fixes, by the skin of the back and hind parts, the living bait to the hook. I hold the main line all the while, and now, having fixed one linelet to it, over goes the latter. Can you see the poor toad kicking and flouncing in the water? “No”—well, I do. You observe at length that all the lines, one after another, have been fixed, baited, and dropped. We now return swiftly to the shore.

“What a delightful thing is fishing!” have I more than once heard some knowing angler exclaim, who, with “the patience of Job,” stands or slowly moves along some rivulet twenty feet wide, and three or four feet deep, with a sham fly to allure a trout, which, when at length caught, weighs half a pound. Reader, I never had such patience. Although I have waited ten years, and yet see only three-fourths of the Birds of America engraved, although some of the drawings of that work were patiently made so long ago as 1805, and although I have to wait with patience two years more before I see the end of it, I never could hold a line or a rod for many minutes, unless I had—not a “nibble,” but a hearty bite, and could throw the fish at once over my head on the ground. No, no—If I fish for trout, I must soon give up, or catch, as I have done in Pennsylvania’s Lehigh, or the streams of Maine, fifty or more in a couple of hours. But the trot-line is in the river, and there it may patiently wait, until I visit it toward night. Now I take up my gun and note-book, and, accompanied by my dog, intend to ramble through the woods until breakfast. Who knows but I may shoot a turkey or a deer? It is barely four o’clock; and see what delightful mornings we have at this season in Kentucky!

Evening has returned. The heavens have already opened their twinkling eyes, although the orb of day has yet scarcely withdrawn itself from our view. How calm is the air! The nocturnal insects and quadrupeds are abroad; the bear is moving through the dark canebrake, the land crows are flying towards their roosts, their aquatic brethren towards the interior of the forests, the squirrel is barking his adieu, and the Barred Owl glides silently and swiftly from his retreat, to seize upon the gay and noisy animal. The boat is pushed off from the shore; the main-line is in my hands; now it shakes; surely some fish have been hooked. Hand over hand I proceed to the first hook. Nothing there! But now I feel several jerks stronger and more frequent than before. Several hooks I pass; but see, what a fine Cat-fish is twisting round and round the little line to which he is fast! Nat, look to your gaff—hook him close to the tail. Keep it up, my dear fellow!—there now, we have him. More are on, and we proceed. When we have reached the end many goodly fishes are lying in the bottom of our skiff. New bait has been put on, and, as we return, I congratulate myself and my companions on the success of our efforts; for there lies fish enough for ourselves and our neighbours.

A trot-line at this period was perfectly safe at Henderson, should I have allowed it to remain for weeks at a time. The navigation was mostly performed by flat-bottomed boats, which during calm nights floated in the middle current of the river, so that the people on board could not observe the fish that had been hooked. Not a single steamer had as yet ever gone down the Ohio; now and then, it is true, a barge or a keel-boat was propelled by poles and oars; but the nature of the river is such at that place, that these boats when ascending were obliged to keep near the Indiana shore, until above the landing of the village, (below which I always fixed my lines), when they pulled across the stream.

Several species or varieties of Cat-fish are found in the Ohio, namely the Blue, the White, and the Mud Cats, which differ considerably in their form and colour, as well as in their habits. The Mud Cat is the best, although it seldom attains so great a size as the rest. The Blue Cat is the coarsest, but when not exceeding from four to six pounds, it affords tolerable eating. The White Cat is preferable to the last, but not so common; and the Yellow Mud Cat is the best and rarest. Of the blue kind some have been caught that weighed a hundred pounds. Such fishes, however, are looked upon as monsters.

The form in all the varieties inclines to the conical, the head being disproportionately large, while the body tapers away to the root of the tail. The eyes, which are small, are placed far apart, and situated as it were on the top of the forehead, but laterally. Their mouth is wide, and armed with numerous small and very sharp teeth, while it is defended by single-sided spines, which, when the fish is in the agonies of death, stand out at right angles, and are so firmly fixed as sometimes to break before you can loosen them. The Cat-fish has also feelers of proportionate length, apparently intended to guide its motions over the bottom, whilst its eyes are watching the objects passing above.

Trot-lines cannot be used with much success unless during the middle stages of the water. When very low, it is too clear, and the fish, although extremely voracious, will rarely risk its life for a toad. When the waters are rising rapidly, your trot-lines are likely to be carried away by one of the numerous trees that float in the stream. A “happy medium” is therefore best.

When the waters are rising fast and have become muddy, a single line is used for catching Cat-fish. It is fastened to the elastic branch of some willow several feet above the water, and must be twenty or thirty feet in length. The entrails of a Wild Turkey, or a piece of fresh venison, furnish good bait; and if, when you visit your line the next morning after you have set it, the water has not risen too much, the swinging of the willow indicates that a fish has been hooked, and you have only to haul the prize ashore.

One evening I saw that the river was rising at a great rate, although it was still within its banks. I knew that the White Perch were running, that is, ascending the river from the sea, and, anxious to have a tasting of that fine fish, I baited a line with a cray-fish, and fastened it to the bough of a tree. Next morning as I pulled in the line, it felt as if fast at the bottom, yet on drawing it slowly I found that it came. Presently I felt a strong pull, the line slipped through my fingers, and next instant a large Cat-fish leaped out of the water. I played it for a while, until it became exhausted, when I drew it ashore. It had swallowed the hook, and I cut off the line close to its head. Then passing a stick through one of the gills, I and a servant tugged the fish home. On cutting it open, we, to our surprise, found in its stomach a fine White Perch, dead, but not in the least injured. The Perch had been lightly hooked, and the Cat-fish, after swallowing it, had been hooked in the stomach, so that, although the instrument was small, the torture caused by it no doubt tended to disable the Cat-fish. The Perch we ate, and the Cat, which was fine, we divided into four parts, and distributed among our neighbours. My most worthy friend and relative, Nicholas Berthoud, Esq., who formerly resided at Shippingport in Kentucky, but now in New York, a better fisher than whom I never knew, once placed a trot-line in “the basin” below “Tarascon’s Mills,” at the foot of the Rapids of the Ohio. I cannot recollect the bait which was used; but on taking up the line we obtained a remarkably fine Cat-fish, in which was found the greater part of a sucking pig!

I may here add, that I have introduced a figure of the Cat-fish in Plate XXXI. of my first volume of my Illustrations, in which I have represented the White-headed Eagle.

THE WOOD IBIS.

Tantalus loculator, Linn.
PLATE CCXVI. Male.

This very remarkable bird, and all others of the same genus that are known to occur in the United States, are constant residents in some part of our Southern Districts, although they perform short migrations. A few of them now and then stray as far as the Middle States, but instances of this are rare; and I am not aware that any have been seen farther to the eastward than the southern portions of Maryland, excepting a few individuals of the Glossy and the White Ibises, which have been procured in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York. The Carolinas, Georgia, the Floridas, Alabama, Lower Louisiana, including Opellousas, and Mississippi, are the districts to which they resort by preference, and in which they spend the whole year. With the exception of the Glossy Ibis, which may be looked upon as a bird of the Mexican territories, and which usually appears in the Union singly or in pairs, they all live socially in immense flocks, especially during the breeding season. The country which they inhabit is doubtless the best suited to their habits; the vast and numerous swamps, lagoons, bayous, and submersed savannahs that occur in the lower parts of our Southern States, all abounding with fishes and reptiles; and the temperature of these countries being congenial to their constitutions.

In treating of the bird now under your notice, Mr William Bartram says, “This solitary bird does not associate in flocks, but is generally seen alone.” This was published by Wilson, and every individual who has since written on the subject, has copied the assertion without probably having any other reason than that he believed the authors of it to state a fact. But the habits of this species are entirely at variance with the above quotation, to which I direct your attention not without a feeling of pain, being assured that Mr Bartram could have made such a statement only because he had few opportunities of studying the bird in question in its proper haunts.

The Wood Ibis is rarely met with single, even after the breeding season, and it is more easy for a person to see an hundred together at any period of the year, than to meet with one by itself. Nay, I have seen flocks composed of several thousands, and that there is a natural necessity for their flocking together I shall explain to you. This species feeds entirely on fish and aquatic reptiles, of which it destroys an enormous quantity, in fact more than it eats; for if they have been killing fish for half an hour and have gorged themselves, they suffer the rest to lie on the water untouched, when it becomes food for alligators, crows, and vultures, whenever these animals can lay hold of it. To procure its food, the Wood Ibis walks through shallow muddy lakes or bayous in numbers. As soon as they have discovered a place abounding in fish, they dance as it were all through it, until the water becomes thick with the mud stirred from the bottom by their feet. The fishes, on rising to the surface, are instantly struck by the beaks of the Ibises, which, on being deprived of life, they turn over and so remain. In the course of ten or fifteen minutes, hundreds of fishes, frogs, young alligators, and water-snakes cover the surface, and the birds greedily swallow them until they are completely gorged, after which they walk to the nearest margins, place themselves in long rows, with their breasts all turned towards the sun, in the manner of Pelicans and Vultures, and thus remain for an hour or so. When digestion is partially accomplished, they all take to wing, rise in spiral circlings to an immense height, and sail about for an hour or more, performing the most beautiful evolutions that can well be conceived. Their long necks and legs are stretched out to their full extent, the pure white of their plumage contrasts beautifully with the jetty black of the tips of their wings. Now in large circles they seem to ascend toward the upper regions of the atmosphere; now, they pitch towards the earth; and again, gently rising, they renew their gyrations. Hunger once more induces them to go in search of food, and, with extended front, the band sails rapidly towards another lake or bayou.

Mark the place, reader, and follow their course through cane-brake, cypress-swamp, and tangled wood. Seldom do they return to the same feeding place on the same day. You have reached the spot, and are standing on the margin of a dark-watered bayou, the sinuosities of which lead your eye into a labyrinth ending in complete darkness. The tall canes bow to each other from the shores; the majestic trees above them, all hung with funereal lichen, gently wave in the suffocating atmosphere; the bullfrog, alarmed, shrinks back into the water; the alligator raises his head above its surface, probably to see if the birds have arrived, and the wily cougar is stealthily advancing toward one of the Ibises, which he expects to carry off into the thicket. Through the dim light your eye catches a glimpse of the white-plumaged birds, moving rapidly like spectres to and fro. The loud clacking of their mandibles apprises you of the havock they commit among the terrified inhabitants of the waters, while the knell-like sounds of their feet come with a feeling of dread. Move, gently or not, move at all, and you infallibly lose your opportunity of observing the actions of the birds. Some old male has long marked you; whether it has been with eye or with ear, no matter. The first stick your foot cracks, his hoarse voice sounds the alarm. Off they all go, battering down the bending canes with their powerful pinions, and breaking the smaller twigs of the trees, as they force a passage for themselves.

Talk to me of the stupidity of birds, of the dulness of the Wood Ibis! say it is fearless, easily approached, and easily shot. I listen, but it is merely through courtesy; for I have so repeatedly watched its movements, in all kinds of circumstances, that I am quite convinced we have not in the United States a more shy, wary, and vigilant bird than the Wood Ibis. In the course of two years spent, I may say, among them, for I saw some whenever I pleased during that period, I never succeeded in surprising one, not even under night, when they were roosting on trees at a height of nearly a hundred feet, and sometimes rendered farther secure by being over extensive swamps.

My Journal informs me, that, one autumn while residing near Bayou Sara, being intent on procuring eight or ten of these birds, to skin for my learned and kind friend the Prince of Musignano, I took with me two servants, who were first-rate woodsmen, and capital hands at the rifle, and that notwithstanding our meeting with many hundreds of Wood Ibises, it took us three days to shoot fifteen, which were for the most part killed on wing with rifle-balls, at a distance of about a hundred yards. On that occasion we discovered that a flock roosted regularly over a large corn field covered with huge girted trees, the tops of which were almost all decayed. We stationed ourselves apart in the field, concealed among the tall ripened corn, and in silence awaited the arrival of the birds. After the sun had disappeared, the broad front of a great flock of Ibises was observed advancing towards us. They soon alighted in great numbers on the large branches of the dead trees; but whenever one of the branches gave way under their weight, all at once rose in the air, flew about several times, and alighted again. One of my companions, having a good opportunity, fired, and brought two down with a single bullet; but here the sport was ended. In five minutes after, not an Ibis was within a mile of the place, nor did any return to roost there for more than a month. When on the margin of a lake, or even in the centre of it—for all the lakes they frequent are exceedingly shallow—the first glimpse they have of a man induces them to exert all their vigilance; and should he after this advance a few steps, the birds fly off.

The name of “Wood Ibis” given to this bird, is not more applicable to it than to any other species; for every one with which I am acquainted resorts quite as much to the woods at particular periods. All our species may be found on wet savannahs, on islands surrounded even by the waters of the sea, the Florida Keys for example, or in the most secluded parts of the darkest woods, provided they are swampy, or are furnished with ponds. I have found the Wood, the Red, the White, the Brown, and the Glossy Ibises, around ponds in the centre of immense forests; and in such places, even in the desolate pine-barrens of the Floridas; sometimes several hundred miles from the sea coast, on the Red River, in the State of Louisiana, and above Natchez, in that of Mississippi, as well as within a few miles of the ocean. Yet, beyond certain limits, I never saw one of these birds.

One of the most curious circumstances connected with this species is, that although the birds are, when feeding, almost constantly within the reach of large alligators, of which they devour the young, these reptiles never attack them; whereas if a Duck or a Heron comes within the reach of their tails, it is immediately killed and swallowed. The Wood Ibis will wade up to its belly in the water, round the edges of “alligators’ holes,” without ever being injured; but should one of these birds be shot, an alligator immediately makes towards it and pulls it under water. The gar-fish is not so courteous, but gives chase to the Ibises whenever an opportunity occurs. The Snapping Turtle is also a great enemy to the young birds of this species.

The flight of the Wood Ibis is heavy at its rising from the ground. Its neck at that moment is deeply curved downward, its wings flap heavily but with great power, and its long legs are not stretched out behind until it has proceeded many yards. But as soon as it has attained a height of eight or ten feet, it ascends with great celerity, generally in a spiral direction, in silence if not alarmed, or, if frightened, with a rough croaking guttural note. When fairly on wing, they proceed in a direct flight, with alternate flappings and sailings of thirty or forty yards, the sailings more prolonged than the flappings. They alight on trees with more ease than Herons generally do, and either stand erect or crouch on the branches, in the manner of the Wild Turkey, the Herons seldom using the latter attitude. When they are at rest, they place their bill against the breast, while the neck shrinks as it were between the shoulders. In this position you may see fifty on the same tree, or on the ground, reposing in perfect quiet for hours at a time, although some individual of the party will be constantly on the look-out, and ready to sound the alarm.

In the spring months, when these birds collect in large flocks, before they return to their breeding places, I have seen thousands together, passing over the woods in a line more than a mile in extent, and moving with surprising speed at the height of only a few yards above the trees. When a breeding place has once been chosen, it is resorted to for years in succession; nor is it easy to make them abandon it after they have deposited their eggs, although, if much annoyed, they never return to it after that season.

Besides the great quantity of fishes that these Ibises destroy, they also devour frogs, young alligators, wood-rats, young rails and grakles, fiddlers and other crabs, as well as snakes and small turtles. They never eat the eggs of the alligator, as has been alleged, although they probably would do so, could they demolish the matted nests of that animal, a task beyond the power of any bird known to me. I never saw one eat any thing which either it or some of its fellows had not killed. Nor will it eat an animal that has been dead for some time, even although it may have been killed by itself. When eating, the clacking of their mandibles may be heard at the distance of several hundred yards.

When wounded, it is dangerous to approach them, for they bite severely. They may be said to be very tenacious of life. Although usually fat, they are very tough and oily, and therefore are not fit for food. The Negroes, however, eat them, having, previous to cooking them, torn off the skin, as they do with Pelicans and Cormorants. My own attempts, I may add, were not crowned with success. Many of the Negroes of Louisiana destroy these birds when young, for the sake of the oil which their flesh contains, and which they use in greasing machines.

The French Creoles of that State name them “Grands Flamans,” while the Spaniards of East Florida know them by the name of “Gannets.” When in the latter country, at St Augustine, I was induced to make an excursion, to visit a large pond or lake, where I was assured there were Gannets in abundance, which I might shoot off the trees, provided I was careful enough. On asking the appearance of the Gannets, I was told that they were large white birds, with wings black at the end, a long neck, and a large sharp bill. The description so far agreeing with that of the Common Gannet or Solan Goose, I proposed no questions respecting the legs or tail, but went off. Twenty-three miles, Reader, I trudged through the woods, and at last came in view of the pond; when, lo! its borders and the trees around it were covered with Wood Ibises. Now, as the good people who gave the information spoke according to their knowledge, and agreeably to their custom of calling the Ibises Gannets, had I not gone to the pond, I might have written this day that Gannets are found in the interior of the woods in the Floridas, that they alight on trees, &c. which, if once published, would in all probability have gone down to future times through the medium of compilers, and all perhaps without acknowledgment.

The Wood Ibis takes four years in attaining full maturity, although birds of the second year are now and then found breeding. This is rare, however, for the young birds live in flocks by themselves, until they have attained the age of about three years. They are at first of a dingy brown, each feather edged with paler; the head is covered to the mandibles with short downy feathers, which gradually fall off as the bird advances in age. In the third year, the head is quite bare, as well as a portion of the upper part of the neck. In the fourth year, the bird is as you see it in the plate. The male is much larger and heavier than the female, but there is no difference in colour between the sexes.

Tantalus loculator, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 240.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 702.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 310.

Wood Ibis, Tantalus loculator, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 39. pl. 68. fig. 1. Adult.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 82.

Adult Male. Plate CCXVI.

Bill long, stout, at the base as wide as the face, deeper than broad, compressed, tapering towards the end, which is curved. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight to near the end, then considerably curved, the ridge rather broad and flattened at the base, narrowed at the middle, convex towards the end, the sides sloping and rather flat at the base, towards the end rounded, the edges overlapping, inflected, sharp but strong, the tip declinate, narrow, rounded, with a notch on either side. Nostrils basal, close to the ridge, direct, pervious, oblong; no nasal groove. Lower mandible curved towards the end, like the upper, its angle rather wide, and having a bare dilatable membrane, the sides rather flat and erect at the base, afterwards narrowed and with the back rounded, the edges erect, sharp, with a groove externally for the insertion of those of the upper mandible.

Head of ordinary size, short, compressed. Neck long. Body rather slender, deeper than broad. Wings large. Feet very long, slender, like those of the Herons. Tibia long, slender, bare for one-half of its length; and with the long, compressed tarsus, covered all round with hexagonal scales. Toes rather long and slender, the first smallest, the second next in length, the third longest, the fourth intermediate between the second and third, all covered above with numerous scutella, laterally with angular scales, beneath flattened with soft margins, the anterior connected at the base by pretty large webs, of which the outer is larger. Claws small, rather compressed, rounded above, obtuse, the thin edge of that of the third not serrated.

The head all round, and the hind neck half way down, destitute of feathers, the skin wrinkled and covered with irregular scurfy scales. Plumage in general rather loose, more so on the neck. Wings long, ample, primaries strong, the third longest, second almost as long, fourth about the same length as third, first considerably shorter, all curved, emarginate, of twelve broad, rounded feathers.

Bill dusky yellowish-brown, the edges yellow. Sides of the head dark bluish-purple, upper part of the head horn-colour or dull greyish-yellow, the rest of the bare skin of the same tint, many of the scales anteriorly blue. Iris deep brown, at a distance seeming black. Tibia and tarsus indigo-blue. Toes above black, on the lateral and hind toes, however, many of the scutella bluish-grey; the webs pale yellowish flesh-colour; claws black.

The general colour of the plumage is pure white with a tinge of yellow. Alula, primary coverts, primary and secondary quills, excepting the inner, and tail, black, with green and purplish-blue reflections, according to the light in which they are viewed.

Length to end of tail 44 1/2 inches, to end of claws 59 1/2, to end of wings 46 1/2; from flexure 18; tail 6; extent of wings 62; bill along the back 9 1/2, along the edge 9, its greatest depth 2 1/4; bare part of tibia 6; tarsus 9; middle toe 4 2/12, its claw 3/4. Weight 11 3/4 lb.

The Female is precisely similar to the Male, differing merely in being smaller. Its weight is 9 1/4 lb.

The Young are dusky grey all over, the quills and tail brownish-black. The head all covered with down, excepting just at the base of the bill. After the first moult, the bare space extends over the head and cheeks; the downy feathers of the hind head and neck are dusky; the general colour of the plumage is white, the quills and tail nearly as in the adult, but with less gloss. A Male of this description shot in January was in length 35 inches, its bill 7 1/2, tarsus 7, middle toe 4, its claw 1/2; its weight 7 3/4 lb.

When the Wood Ibis has caught a fish too large to be easily swallowed, it shakes its head in a violent manner, as if to force its prey down or drive it up again. In the latter case, it carries the fish to the shore, and breaks it into pieces, which it then swallows.

This species has the subcutaneous cellular tissue highly developed, especially along the breast, and the lower parts of the body, although not by any means so much so as in the Brown Pelican. I have represented a flock of these birds in the back ground, with the view of giving you an idea of the swamps to which they usually resort. They are on the edge of an alligator’s hole, at their avocations. The trees, clad with dangling mosses, afford evidence of the insalubrity of the atmosphere. You see the alligators with their heads and backs above water, watching the motions of the birds.

LOUISIANA HERON.

Ardea Ludoviciana, Wils.
PLATE CCXVII. Male.

Delicate in form, beautiful in plumage, and graceful in its movements, I never see this interesting Heron, without calling it the Lady of the Waters. Watch its motions, as it leisurely walks over the pure sand beaches of the coast of Florida, arrayed in the full beauty of its spring plumage. Its pendent crest exhibits its glossy tints, its train falls gracefully over a well defined tail, and the tempered hues of its back and wings contrast with those of its lower parts. Its measured steps are so light that they leave no impression on the sand, and with its keen eye it views every object around with the most perfect accuracy. See, it has spied a small fly lurking on a blade of grass, it silently runs a few steps, and with the sharp point of its bill it has already secured the prey. The minnow just escaped from the pursuit of some larger fish has almost rushed upon the beach for safety; but the quick eye of the Heron has observed its motions, and in an instant it is swallowed alive. Among the herbage yet dripping with dew the beautiful bird picks its steps. Not a snail can escape its keen search, and as it moves around the muddy pool, it secures each water lizard that occurs. Now the sun’s rays have dried up the dews, the flowers begin to droop, the woodland choristers have ended their morning concert, and like them, the Heron, fatigued with its exertions, seeks a place of repose under the boughs of the nearest bush, where it may in safety await the coolness of the evening. Then for a short while it again searches for food. Little difficulty does it experience in this; and at length, with the last glimpse of day, it opens its wings, and flies off towards its well-known roosting-place, where it spends the night contented and happy.

This species, which is a constant resident in the southern parts of the peninsula of the Floridas, seldom rambles far from its haunts during the winter season, being rarely seen at that period beyond Savannah in Georgia to the eastward. To the west it extends to the broad sedgy flats bordering the mouths of the Mississippi, along the whole Gulf of Mexico, and perhaps much farther south. In the beginning of spring, it is found abundantly in the Carolinas, and sometimes as far east as Maryland, or up the Mississippi as high as Natchez. You never find it far inland: perhaps forty miles would be a considerable distance at any time of the year. It is at all seasons a social bird, moving about in company with the Blue Heron or the White Egret. It also frequently associates with the larger species, and breeds in the same places, along with the White Heron, the Yellow-crowned Heron, and the Night Heron; but more generally it resorts to particular spots for this purpose, keeping by itself, and assembling in great numbers. Those which visit the Carolinas, or the country of the Mississippi, make their appearance there about the first of April, or when the Egrets and other species of Heron seek the same parts, returning to the Floridas or farther south about the middle of September, although I have known some to remain there during mild winters. When this is the case, all the other species may be met with in the same places, as the Louisiana Heron is the most delicate in constitution of all. Whilst at St Augustine in Florida, in the month of January, I found this species extremely abundant there; but after a hard frost of a few days, they all disappeared, leaving the other Herons, none of which seemed to be affected by the cold, and returned again as soon as the Fahrenheit thermometer rose to 80°. There they were in full livery by the end of February, and near Charleston by the 5th of April.

Although timid, they are less shy than most other species, and more easily procured. I have frequently seen one alight at the distance of a few yards, and gaze on me as if endeavouring to discover my intentions. This apparent insensibility to danger has given rise to the appellation of Egrette folle, which is given to them in Lower Louisiana.

The flight of this beautiful Heron is light, rather irregular, swifter than that of any other species, and capable of being considerably protracted. They usually move in long files, rather widely separated, and in an undulating manner, with constant flappings. When proceeding towards their roosts, or when on their migrations, they pass as high over the country as other species; on the former occasion, they pass and repass over the same tract, thus enabling the gunner easily to shoot them, which he may especially calculate on doing at the approach of night, when they are gorged with food, and fly lower than in the morning. They may, however, be still more surely obtained on their arriving at their roosting place, where they alight at once among the lowest branches. On being shot at, they seldom fly to a great distance, and their attachment to a particular place is such that you are sure to find them there during the whole period of their stay in the country, excepting the breeding time. At the cry of a wounded one, they assail you in the manner of some Gulls and Terns, and may be shot in great numbers by any person fond of such sport.

On the 29th of April, while wading around a beautiful key of the Floridas, in search of certain crustaceous animals called the sea Cray-fish, my party and I suddenly came upon one of the breeding places of the Louisiana Heron. The southern exposures of this lovely island were overgrown with low trees and bushes matted together by thousands of smilaxes and other creeping plants, supported by various species of cactus. Among the branches some hundred pairs of these lovely birds had placed their nests, which were so low and so close to each other, that without moving a step one could put his hand into several. The birds thus taken by surprise rose affrighted into the air, bitterly complaining of being disturbed in their secluded retreat. The nests were formed of small dried sticks crossing each other in various ways. They were flat, had little lining, and each contained three eggs, all the birds being then incubating. Observing that many eggs had been destroyed by the Crows and Buzzards, as the shells were scattered on the ground, I concluded that many of the Herons had laid more than once, to make up their full complement of eggs; for my opinion is, that all our species, excepting the Green Heron, never lay more nor less than three, unless an accident should happen. The eggs of the Louisiana Heron measure one inch and six and a half twelfths in length, an inch and a quarter in breadth; they are nearly elliptical, of a beautiful pale blue colour inclining to green, smooth, and with a very thin shell. The period of incubation is twenty-one days. Like all other species of the genus, this raises only one brood in the season. The little island of which I have spoken lies exposed to the sea, and has an extent of only a few acres. The trees or bushes with which it was covered seemed to have been stunted by the effect produced by their having been for years the receptacles of the Herons’ nests.

On the 19th May, in the same year, I found another breeding place of this species not far from Key West. The young birds, which stood on all the branches of the trees and bushes on the southern side of the place, were about the size of our Little Partridge. Their notes, by which we had been attracted to the spot, were extremely plaintive, and resembled the syllables wiee, wiee, wiee. When we went up to them, the old birds all flew to another key, as if intent on drawing us there; but in vain, for we took with us a good number of their young. It was surprising to see the little fellows moving about among the branches, clinging to them in all sorts of curious positions, and persevering in forcing their way toward the water, when over which they at once dropped, and swam off from us with great vigour and speed. When seized with the hand, they defended themselves to the utmost. At this early period, they plainly shewed the sprouting feathers of the crest. Many Crow Blackbirds had nests on the same mangroves, and a Fish-Hawk also had formed its nest there at a height of not more than five feet from the water. On the 24th of May, these Herons were fully fledged, and able to fly to a short distance. In this state we, with some difficulty, procured one alive. Its legs and feet were green, the bill black, but its eyes, like those of an adult bird, were of a beautiful red hue. Many were caught afterwards and taken as passengers on board the Marion. They fed on any garbage thrown to them by the sailors; but whenever another species came near them, they leaped towards its bill, caught hold of it as if it had been a fish, and hung to it until shaken off by their stronger associates. On several occasions, however, the Ardea occidentalis shook them off violently, and after beating them on the deck, swallowed them before they could be rescued!

The place farthest up on the Mississippi where I have found this species breeding was on Buffalo Creek, about forty miles below Natchez, and ten miles in a direct line from the great river. To the eastward I have found them, breeding in company with the Green Heron and the Night Heron, within a few miles of Charleston.

During summer and autumn, after the old birds have left their young, both are frequently seen in the rice-fields, feeding along the ditches by which the water is led to those places. At this season they are uncommonly gentle and easily approached.

The Louisiana Heron acquires the full beauty of its plumage the second year after its birth, although it continues for some time to increase in size. The train and crest lengthen for several years until they become as represented in the plate. To procure specimens in such complete plumage, however, requires some care, for this state does not last many days after pairing has taken place, and by the time the young are hatched much of this fine plumage has dropped. When autumn has come, only a few of the long barbs remain, and in winter no appearance of them can be seen.

The flesh of the young birds affords tolerable eating. The food of this species consists of small fry, water insects, worms, slugs, and snails, as well as leeches, tadpoles, and aquatic lizards.

Louisiana Heron, Ardea ludoviciana, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 13. pl. 64. fig. 1. adult.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 51.

Ardea ludoviciana, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 305.

Adult Male. Plate CCXVII.

Bill much longer than the head, straight, compressed, tapering to a point, the mandibles nearly equal. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight, the ridge broad and slightly convex at the base, narrowed towards the end, a groove from the base to two-thirds of the length, beneath which the sides are convex, the edges thin and sharp, with a notch on each side close to the sharp tip. Nostrils basal, linear, longitudinal, with a membrane above and behind. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow and elongated, the dorsal line beyond it ascending and almost straight, the edges sharp and slightly inflected, the tip acuminate.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck very long and slender. Body slender and compressed; wings rather large. Feet very long; tibia elongated, its lower half bare, very slender, covered all round with angular scales, of which the posterior are scutelliform; tarsus elongated, slender, compressed, covered anteriorly with numerous scutella, laterally and behind with angular scales. Toes of moderate length, rather slender, scutellate above, reticularly granulate beneath; third toe much longer than second, which is very little longer than fourth, the hind toe much shorter but strong; claws of moderate size, rather strong, arched, compressed, rather acute, that of the hind toe much larger, the edge of that of the third regularly pectinated.

Space between the bill and eye, and around the latter, bare, as is the lower half of the tibia. Plumage soft, generally loose. Feathers of the upper and hind part of the head elongated, tapering, decurved, about six of them larger and much longer; of the sides, and especially of the lower part of the neck, also much elongated and narrow. The feathers of the fore part of the back long and narrow-pointed, those behind extremely elongated, with long loose threadlike barbs; the rest of the back with short soft feathers. Wing of moderate length; primaries tapering but rounded, the third longest, second very little shorter, first and fourth about equal; secondaries broad and rounded, some of the inner as long as the longest primaries, when the wing is closed. Tail very short, small, slightly rounded, of twelve rather weak feathers.

Bill brownish-black on the greater part of the upper mandible, and on the sides of the lower mandible towards the point; the rest yellow, as is the bare space before and around the eye. Iris bright red. Feet light yellowish-green, the anterior scutella dusky, as are the claws. The general colour of the upper parts is light purplish-blue; the elongated feathers of the head and hind neck above of a fine reddish-purple, as are those of the lower part of the neck; the six longest feathers of the head white. The long loose feathers of the back dull purplish-yellow, paler towards their extremities. Throat white, its lower part chestnut; a line of white all the way down the fore part of the neck; the longer feathers of the fore part of the breast dusky blue on their inner webs. The breast, abdomen, tibiæ, and under wing-coverts, white; the lower tail-coverts tipped with blue.

Length to end of the tail 27 inches, to end of wings 28, to end of claws 34 1/2; extent of wings 37; loose feathers from 4 to 5 inches beyond the tail; wing from flexure 10 3/4; tail 3 1/2; bill along the back 4, along the edges 5; bare part of tibia 2 1/4; tarsus 4 1/8, middle toe 2 1/2, its claws 1/2. Weight 1 lb.

The Adult Female is precisely similar to the male.

The Young, when newly hatched, are covered above with pale purplish-grey down, which is of greater length on the head, as in other species.

The young fully fledged have the neck and fore part of the back light brownish-red, the throat and lower parts white, as is the hind part of the back; the quills, larger wing-coverts and tail, light purplish-blue. The feathers of the head, neck and back are not yet elongated. The bill nearly as in the adult, but the legs deep greenish-olive.

After the first moult, the feathers of the head, neck and back, are a little elongated, and begin to be tinged with the colours which they have when the bird is full grown. The red of the neck is changed for tints of blue and purple, as is that of the back, although remnants of it are still seen. The fore part of the neck is white, mixed with brownish-red; the legs lighter.

THE FOOLISH GUILLEMOT.

Uria Troile, Lath.
PLATE CCXVIII. Male and Female.

This bird is seldom found farther south than the entrance of the Bay of New York, where, however, it appears only during severe winters, for being one of the most hardy inhabitants of the northern regions, its constitution is such as to enable it to bear without injury the rigours of their wintry climates. About the bays near Boston the Guillemots are seen every year in greater or less numbers, and from thence to the eastward they become gradually more abundant. A very old gunner whom I employed while at Boston, during the winter of 1832-3, assured me, that when he was a young man, this species bred on many of the rocky islands about the mouth of the bay there; but that for about twenty years back none remained after the first days of April, when they departed for the north in company with the Thick-billed Guillemot, the Common Auk, the Puffin, and the Eider and King Ducks, all of which visit these bays in hard weather. In the Bay of Fundy, the Foolish Guillemot is very numerous, and is known by the name of Murre, which it retains among all the eggers and fishermen of Newfoundland and Labrador, where it breeds in myriads. To those countries, then, I must lead you, good Reader, as there we can with ease study the habits of these birds.

Stay on the deck of the Ripley by my side this clear and cold morning. See how swiftly scuds our gallant bark, as she cuts her way through the foaming billows, now inclining to the right and again to the left. Far in the east, dark banks of low clouds indicate foul weather to the wary mariner, who watches the approach of a northern storm with anxiety. Suddenly the wind changes; but for this he has prepared; the topsails are snugged to their yards, and the rest are securely reefed. A thick fog obscures all around us. The waters suddenly checked in their former course, furiously war against those which now strike them in front. The uproar increases, the bark is tossed on every side; now a sweeping wave rushes against the bows, the vessel quivers, while down along her deck violently pour the waters, rolling from side to side, seeking for a place by which they may escape. At this moment all about you are in dismay save the Guillemots. The sea is covered with these intrepid navigators of the deep. Over each tumultuous billow they swim unconcerned on the very spray at the bow of the vessel, and plunging as if with pleasure, up they come next moment at the rudder. Others fly around in large circles, while thousands contend with the breeze, moving directly against it in long lines, towards regions unknown to all, save themselves and some other species of sea birds.

The Guillemots pair during their migrations;—many of them at least do so. While on my way toward Labrador, they were constantly within sight, gambolling over the surface of the water, the males courting the females, and the latter receiving the caresses of their mates. These would at times rise erect in the sea, swell their throats, and emit a hoarse puffing guttural note, to which the females at once responded, with numerous noddings to their beaux. Then the pair would rise, take a round in the air, re-alight, and seal the conjugal compact; after which they flew or swam together for the season, and so closely, that among multitudes on the wing or on the waves, one might easily distinguish a mated pair.

Not far from Great Macatina Harbour lie the Murre Rocks, consisting of several low islands, destitute of vegetation, and not rising high from the waters. There thousands of Guillemots annually assemble in the beginning of May, to deposit each its single egg, and raise its young. As you approach these islands, the air becomes darkened with the multitudes of birds that fly about; every square foot of the ground seems to be occupied by a Guillemot planted erect as it were on the granite rock, but carefully warming its cherished egg. All look toward the south, and if you are fronting them, the snowy white of their bodies produces a very remarkable effect, for the birds at some distance look as if they were destitute of head, so much does that part assimilate with the dark hue of the rocks on which they stand. On the other hand, if you approach them in the rear, the isle appears as if covered with a black pall.

Now land, and witness the consternation of the settlers! Each affrighted leaves its egg, hastily runs a few steps, and launches into the air in silence. Thrice around you they rapidly pass, to discover the object of your unwelcome visit. If you begin to gather their eggs, or, still worse, to break them, in order that they may lay others which you can pick up fresh, the Guillemots all alight at some distance, on the bosom of the deep, and anxiously await your departure. Eggs, green and white, and almost of every colour, are lying thick over the whole rock; the ordure of the birds mingled with feathers, with the refuse of half-hatched eggs partially sucked by rapacious Gulls, and with putrid or dried carcasses of Guillemots, produces an intolerable stench; and no sooner are all your baskets filled with eggs, than you are glad to abandon the isle to its proper owners.

On one occasion, whilst at anchor at Great Macatina, one of our boats was sent for eggs. The sailors had eight miles to pull before reaching the Murre Islands, and yet ere many hours had elapsed, the boat was again alongside, loaded to a few inches of the gunwale, with 2500 eggs! Many of them, however, being addle, were thrown overboard. The order given to the tars had been to bring only a few dozens; but, as they said, they had forgotten!

The eggs are unaccountably large for the size of the bird, their average length being three inches and three-eighths, and their greatest breadth two inches. They are pyriform or elongated, with a slight compression towards the smaller end, which again rather swells and is rounded at the extremity. They afford excellent food, being highly nutritive and palatable, whether boiled, roasted, poached, or in omelets. The shell is rough to the touch, although not granulated. Some are of a lively verdigris colour, others of different tints, but all curiously splashed, as it were, with streaks or blotches of dark umber and brown. My opinion, however, is, that, when first dropped, they are always pure white, for on opening a good number of these birds, I found several containing an egg ready for being laid, and of a pure white colour. The shell is so firm that it does not easily break, and I have seen a quantity of these eggs very carelessly removed from a basket into a boat without being damaged. They are collected in astonishing quantities by “the eggers,” to whom I have already given a character, and sent to distant markets, where they are sold at from one to three cents each.

Although the Guillemots are continually harassed, their eggs being carried off as soon as they are deposited, and as long as the birds can produce them, yet they return to the same islands year after year, and, notwithstanding all the efforts of their enemies, multiply their numbers.

The Foolish Guillemot, as I have said, lays only a single egg, which is the case with the Thick-billed Guillemot also. The Razor-billed Auk lays two, and the Black Guillemot usually three. I have assured myself of these facts, not merely by observing the birds sitting on their eggs, but also by noticing the following circumstances. The Foolish Guillemot, which lays only one, plucks the feathers from its abdomen, which is thus left quite bare over a roundish space just large enough to cover its single egg. The Thick-billed Guillemot does the same. The Auk, on the contrary, forms two bare spots, separated by a ridge of feathers. The Black Guillemot, to cover her three eggs, and to warm them all at once, plucks a space bare quite across her belly. These observations were made on numerous birds of all the species mentioned. In all of them, the males incubate as well as the females, although the latter are more assiduous. When the Guillemots are disturbed, they fly off in silence. The Auks, on the contrary, emit a hoarse croaking note, which they repeat several times, as they fly away from danger. The Foolish Guillemot seldom if ever attempts to bite, whereas the Razor-billed Auk bites most severely, and clings to a person’s hand until choked. The plumage of all the birds of this family is extremely compact, closely downed at the root, and difficult to be plucked. The fishermen and eggers often use their skins with the feathers on as “comforters” round their wrists. The flesh is dark, tough, and not very palatable; yet many of these birds are eaten by the fishermen and sailors.

The young, which burst the egg about the beginning of July, are covered with down of a brownish-black colour. When eight or ten days old they are still downy, but have acquired considerable activity. As they grow up, they become excessively fat, and seem to be more at ease on the water than on the land. About the middle of August they follow their parents to the open sea, the latter being then seldom able to fly, having dropped their quills; and by the middle of September scarcely any of these birds are to be found on or near the islands on which they breed, although great numbers spend the winter in those latitudes.

There is no perceptible difference between the sexes as to colour, but the males are larger than the females. The white line that encircles the eye and extends toward the hind head is common to both sexes, but occurs only in old birds. Thousands of these Guillemots however breed, without having yet acquired it, there merely being indications of it to be seen on parting the feathers on the place, where there is a natural division.

The flight of the Foolish Guillemot is rapid and greatly protracted, being performed by quick and unintermitted beatings. They move through the air either singly or in bands, in the latter case seldom keeping any very regular order. Sometimes they seem to skim along the surface for miles, while at other times they fly at the height of thirty or forty yards. They are expert divers, using their wings like fins, and under water looking like winged fishes. They frequently plunge at the flash of the gun, and disappear for a considerable time. Before rising, they are obliged to run as it were on the water, fluttering for many yards before they get fairly on wing.

Those which I kept alive for weeks on board the Ripley, walked about and ran with ease, with the whole length of their tarsus touching the deck. They took leaps on chests and other objects to raise themselves, but could not fly without being elevated two or three feet, although when they are on the rocks, and can take a run of eight or ten yards, they easily rise on wing.

The islands on which the Guillemots breed on the coast of Labrador, are flattish at top, and it is there, on the bare rock, that they deposit their eggs. I saw none standing on the shelvings of high rocks, although many breed in such places in some parts of Europe. Their food consists of small fish, shrimps, and other marine animals; and they swallow some gravel also.

Uria Troile, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 796.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 424.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 477.

Foolish Guillemot, or Murre, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 526.

Adult Male, in summer. Plate CCXVIII.

Bill of moderate length, rather stout, tapering, compressed, acute. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly curved, the ridge narrow, broader at the base, the sides sloping, the edges short and inflected, the tip a little decurved with a slight notch. Nasal groove broad, feathered; nostrils at its lower edge, sub-basal, lateral, longitudinal, linear, pervious. Lower mandible, with the angle medial, narrow, the dorsal line sloping upwards, and straight, the back very narrow, the sides nearly flat, the edges sharp and inflected.

Head oblong, depressed, narrowed before. Eyes rather small. Neck short and thick. Body stout, rather depressed. Wings rather small. Feet short, placed far behind; the greater part of the tibia concealed, its lower portion bare; tarsus short, stout, compressed, anteriorly sharp, and covered with a double row of scutella, the sides with angular scales; toes of moderate length, the first wanting, the third nearly longest, the fourth longer than the second; all covered above with numerous scutella, webbed, the lateral ones with small margins; claws small, slightly arched, compressed, rather acute, the middle one larger, with a dilated inner edge.

Plumage dense, very soft, blended; on the head very short. Wings rather short, narrow, acute; primary quills curved, tapering, the first longest, the second little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries short, incurved, broad, rounded. Tail very short, rounded, of twelve narrow feathers.

Bill black; inside of mouth gamboge-yellow. Iris dark brown. Feet black. The general colour of the plumage is greyish-black on the upper parts; the sides of the head and upper part of the neck black, tinged with brown. A white bar across the wing, formed by the tips of the secondary quills, and a line of the same encircling the eye, and extending behind it. The lower parts white.

Length to end of tail 17 1/2 inches, to end of claws 19 1/4, to end of wings 17 1/2; extent of wings 30 inches; wing from flexure 7 1/2; tail 2; tarsus 1 3/12; middle toe 1 7/12, its claw 5/12. Weight 2 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCXVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female is similar to the male, and, when mature, has the white line round and behind the eye.

THE BLACK GUILLEMOT.

Uria Grylle, Lath.
PLATE CCXIX. Adult in Summer, Adult in Winter, and Young.

It was a frightful thing to see my good Captain, Henry Emery, swinging on a long rope upon the face of a rocky and crumbling eminence, at a height of several hundred feet from the water, in search of the eggs of the Black Guillemot, with four or five sailors holding the rope above, and walking along the edge of the precipice. I stood watching the motions of the adventurous sailor. When the friction of the rope by which he was suspended loosened a block, which with awful crash came tumbling down from above him, he, with a promptness and dexterity that appeared to me quite marvellous, would, by a sudden jerk, throw himself aside to the right or left, and escape the danger. Now he would run his arm into a fissure, which, if he found it too deep, he would probe with a boat-hook. Whenever he chanced to touch a bird, it would come out whirring like a shot in his face; while others came flying from afar toward their beloved retreats with so much impetuosity as almost to alarm the bold rocksman. After much toil and trouble he procured only a few eggs, it not being then the height of the breeding season. You may imagine, good Reader, how relieved I felt when I saw Mr Emery drawn up, and once more standing on the bold eminence waving his hat as a signal of success. This happened in one of the Magdeleine Islands, in the Gulf of St Lawrence.

During severe winters, I have seen the Black Guillemot playing over the waters as far south as the shores of Maryland. Such excursions, however, are of rare occurrence, and it is seldom that any of these birds are to be seen until you reach the Bay of Boston. About the different entrances of the Bay of Fundy, this species is a constant resident, and many individuals breed in fissures, at a moderate height above the water, on the rocky shores of the Island of Grand Manan, and others in the same latitude. Proceeding farther toward the north-east, we found them on Jesticoe Island, and wherever else we happened to touch on our way to Labrador, in which country there is a regular nursery of these birds.

Unlike the Foolish and Thick-billed Guillemots, or the Razor-billed Auk, they do not confine themselves to any particular spot, but take up their abode for the season in any place that presents suitable conveniences. Wherever there are fissures in the rocks, or great piles of blocks with holes in their interstices, there you may expect to find the Black Guillemot.

Whether European writers have spoken of this species at random, or after due observation, I cannot say. All I know is, that every one of them whose writings I have consulted, says that the Black Guillemot lays only one egg. As I have no reason whatever to doubt their assertion, I might be tempted to suppose that our species differs from theirs, were I not perfectly aware that birds in different places will construct different nests, and lay more or fewer eggs. Our species always deposits three, unless it may have been disturbed; and this fact I have assured myself of by having caught the birds in more than twenty instances sitting on that number. Nay, on several occasions, at Labrador, some of my party and myself saw several Black Guillemots sitting on eggs in the same fissure of a rock, where every bird had three eggs under it, a fact which I communicated to my friend Thomas Nuttall. What was most surprising to me was, that even the fishermen there thought that this bird laid only a single egg; and when I asked them how they knew, they simply and good-naturedly answered that they had heard so. Thus, Reader, I might have been satisfied with the sayings of others, and repeated that the bird in question lays one egg; but instead of taking this easy way of settling the matter, I found it necessary to convince myself of the fact by my own observation. I had therefore to receive many knocks and bruises in scrambling over rugged crags and desolate headlands; whereas, with less incredulity, I might very easily have announced to you from my easy chair in Edinburgh, that the Black Guillemots of America lay only a single egg. No true student of nature ought ever to be satisfied without personal observation when it can be obtained. It is the “American Woodsman” that tells you so, anxious as he is that you should enjoy the pleasure of studying and admiring the beautiful works of Nature.

To satisfy yourself as to the correctness of the statements which he here lays before you, go to the desolate shores of Labrador. There, in the vernal month of June, place yourself on some granite rock, against the base of which the waves dash in impotent rage; and ere long you will see the gay Guillemot coming from afar by the side of its mate. They shoot past you on fluttering wings, and suddenly disappear. Go to the place; lay yourself down on the dripping rock, and you will be sure to see the birds preparing their stony nest, for each has brought a smooth pebble in its bill. See how industriously they are engaged in raising this cold fabric into the form of a true nest, before the female lays her eggs, so that no wet may reach them, from the constant trickling of the waters beneath. Up to the height of two or three inches the pebbles are gradually raised, the male stands by his beloved; and some morning when you peep into the crevice, you observe that an egg has been deposited. Two days after you find the number complete.

A closet-naturalist was quite surprised, I have been told, when he read in one of my volumes that Grakles form no nests in one portion of the United States, being there contented with merely dropping their eggs in the bottom of a Woodpecker’s hole; while in the Middle States the same species forms a very snug nest. That his astonishment was great I do not in the least doubt, especially as I know how surprised I was to find the Larus argentatus breeding on fir-trees forty feet above the ground, and to see three eggs, instead of one, placed on a bed of small pebbles beautifully arranged, and every one belonging to a single pair of Black Guillemots. Yet, good Reader, as I have also been told, the same person had no doubt whatever that ermines turn from brown to white in winter, that snakes and crabs cast off their skins and shells, and that “fleas are not lobsters;” but then the reason of his belief was simply that he had read of these things; and his doubts as to the Grakles arose from the facts having been recently reported by a stranger from the “far west,” who, it seems, talked of things which he had not read of before.

Whilst in Labrador, I was delighted to see with what judgment the Black Guillemot prepares a place for its eggs. Whenever the spot chosen happens to be so situated as to preclude damp, not a pebble does the bird lay there, and its eggs are placed on the bare rock. It is only in what I call cases of urgency that this trouble is taken. About fifty or sixty pebbles or bits of stone are then used, and the number is increased or diminished according to circumstances.

The eggs of this species, which appear disproportionately large, measure two inches and three eighths in length, by an inch and five-eighths in breadth. Their form is regular; they are rather rough to the touch, although not granulated; their ground colour an earthy white, thickly blotched with very dark purplish-black, the markings larger and closer towards the great end, which, however, is generally left free of them. The shell is much thinner than that of the egg of the Foolish Guillemot or Razor-billed Auk. As an article of food they are excellent, being delicate and nutritious.

The parents pluck the feathers from a space across the lower part of their belly, as soon as incubation commences; and this bare place, when the bird is taken alive, it immediately conceals by drawing the feathers of the upper part of the abdomen over it, as if it were anxious that it should not be observed. When driven from the nest, the Black Guillemot at once runs out of its hiding-place and flies to the water, on which it plays, bathes as it were, dives a few times, and anxiously watches your retreat, after which it soon returns and resumes the arduous task of incubation.

The young, which are at first quite black, are covered with soft down, and emit, although in an under tone, the same lisping notes as their parents. Their legs, feet, and bill are black. The red colour of the legs of the old birds is much brighter during the breeding-season than at any other time, and the mouth also is bright red. About the first of August the Guillemots lead their progeny to the water, and although at this time neither old nor young are able to fly, they dive deeply and with great ease, which enables them to procure abundance of food, for at this season, lints, shrimps, and marine insects are plentiful in all the waters.

While in Labrador, I made a severe experiment to ascertain how long the Black Guillemot could live without food,—an experiment on which I have never since been able to think, without some feeling of remorse. I confined a pair of them in the fissure of a rock for many days in succession. After the entrance was securely closed, I left the place, and for eight days the wind blew so hard that no boat was safe on the waters without the harbour. Many a time I thought of the poor captives, and at last went to their retreat one rainy afternoon, over a great swell of the sea. The entrance of the fissure was opened, and a stick pushed into the hole, when I had the pleasure of seeing both birds, although apparently in a state of distress, run out by me, and at once fly to the water.

The flight of the Black Guillemot is rapid and continued. As they proceed in their course, they alternately shew the black of their lower parts and the white of their wings. They walk on the rocks with considerable ease, using short steps, and whenever they wish to remove from one crag or block to another, make use of their wings. When their nests are very high above the water, they fly directly into them; and from such heights, if necessity demands it, they at once dive towards the water.

I kept many alive on board the Ripley. They ran on the floor in an erect position for a few yards, fell down on their breasts, rose again, and continued their exertions to escape, until they got fairly concealed behind a chest or barrel.

The winter plumage of this species differs so greatly from that of summer, that I have been induced to present you with a figure of the bird in both states. It is difficult to perceive any external difference between the sexes, only the males are rather larger than the females. Their flesh, although black and tough, is not very unpalatable.

The trachea is flattened, with numerous close, transparent rings. The gullet, as in all the other species of this genus, is very dilatable. The gizzard, which is small, has its inner membrane thin and of a yellow colour. The intestines are about the thickness of a goose quill, and measure two feet eight inches in length.

Uria Grylle, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 797.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 423.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Boreali-Americana, part ii. p. 478.

Black Guillemot, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 523.

Adult in Summer. Plate CCXIX. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, straight, rather stout, tapering, compressed, acute. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight and sloping, towards the tip slightly arched, the sides sloping and towards the end a little convex, the edges sharp and slightly inflected. Nostrils basal, lateral, linear, partially concealed by the feathers. Lower mandible with the angle long and very narrow, the dorsal line ascending, straight, the sides sloping upwards, slightly convex, flat at the base, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip acute.

Head of moderate size, oblong; neck short; body full, depressed; wings rather small. Feet placed far behind, short, of moderate size; tarsus short, compressed, anteriorly scutellate, laterally covered with reticulated angular scales; toes rather slender, scutellate above, connected by entire reticulated webs, the outer and inner with a small marginal membrane; the first toe wanting, the third and fourth about equal, the second shortest; claws small, arched, compressed, rather obtuse, that of the middle toe with a dilated thin inner edge.

Plumage soft, close, blended and velvety; feathers of the head very short, on the back broadly rounded, of the lower parts more elongated. Wings rather small; primary quills curved, the first longest, the second little shorter, the rest rather rapidly diminishing; secondary incurved, broadly rounded. Tail short, narrow, rounded, of twelve rather pointed feathers.

Bill black, inside of mouth vermilion tinged with carmine. Iris deep brown. Feet of the same colour as the mouth, claws black. The general colour of the plumage is deep black, on the upper part tinged with green, on the lower with red, there being only a large patch on each wing, including the secondary coverts and some of the smaller feathers pure white, as are the lower wing-coverts. The quills and tail are tinged with brown.

Length to end of tail 13 7/8 inches, to end of claws 16 1/4, to end of wings 13; extent of wings 21 1/2; wing from flexure 6 1/2, tail 2; bill along the ridge 1 1/4, along the gape 1 7/8; tarsus 1 2/12, middle toe 1 1/2, its claw 3/8. Weight 13 1/2 oz.

Adult in winter. Plate CCXIX. Fig. 2.

The bill and iris are of the same colour as in summer, but the red of the feet is paler. The general colour of the plumage is white, the sides of the head, the neck all round, the lower parts, and the rump being of that colour, more or less shaded with grey. The upper part of the head obscurely mottled with greyish-black; the back and scapulars black, each feather tipped with greyish-white, those of the latter more broadly. The wings and tail brownish-black, the former with the conspicuous white patch, as in summer.

Young a few days old. Plate CCXIX. Fig. 3.

Bill and feet black, the former tinged with red; iris dark brown. The general colour of the soft thick down with which the whole body is covered is brownish-black.

THE PIPING PLOVER.

Charadrius melodus, Ord.
PLATE CCXX. Male and Female.

During the spring and summer months, this pretty little Plover is found on the sandy beaches of our extensive coasts, from the southern point of the Floridas to the confines of Maine. As you proceed towards Labrador, you find it in every suitable place, as far as the Magdeleine Islands, on the sands of which I saw many that were paired and had eggs on the 11th of June 1833. It breeds on all parts of the eastern coast of the United States, wherever the locality is adapted to its habits. On the 3d of May, this bird was found with eggs on the Keys of the Floridas; about a month later, you may meet with it in the States of Maryland, New Jersey, and New York. Those which leave the south at the approach of spring, return to it about October: and during the whole winter you may find them on the sandy beaches, from South Carolina to the western coast of the Floridas. The species, therefore, may be considered as resident with us.

While migrating eastward, the Piping Plovers proceed in pairs; and should one of these on its way find a convenient place for breeding, and remain there, several others are often induced to take up their abode in the neighbourhood. In autumn, they go in flocks of twenty or thirty individuals, and at times associate with other species, particularly the Turnstone, in whose company I have found them abundantly on the coast of Florida, in the winter months. They never proceed to any distance inland, even along the sandy margins of our largest rivers; nor are they seen along very rocky shores or places covered with deep mud.

The favourite breeding stations of this species are low islands, mostly covered with drifting sand, having a scanty vegetation, and not liable to inundation. In such a place many pairs may be found, with nests thirty or forty yards apart. The nest is sometimes placed at the foot of a tuft of withered grass, at other times in an exposed situation. A cavity is merely scooped out in the soil, and there are deposited in it four eggs, which are in a great measure hatched by the heat which the sand acquires under the influence of a summer sun; but in rough weather, and always by night, the female is careful to sit upon them. Her mate is extremely attentive to her during the period of incubation, and should you happen to stroll near the nest, you are sure to meet him at his station. The eggs, which are four, and have their points placed together, measure one inch and one-eighth by seven and a half eighths, are pyriform, broad, and flatly rounded at the larger end, and tapering directly to the smaller, which is also rounded. They are of a pale bluish-buff colour, sprinkled and lined nearly all over with dark red, brown, and black. Only one brood is raised in the season. The young, which go abroad immediately after they are hatched, run with remarkable speed, and, at the least note of the parent bird indicative of danger, squat so closely on the sand, that you may walk over them without seeing them. Their downy covering is grey mottled with brown; their bill almost black. If taken up in the hand, they emit a soft plaintive note resembling that of the old bird. The strange devices which their parents at this time adopt to ensure their safety, cannot fail to render the student of nature very unwilling to carry them off without urgent necessity. You may see the mother, with expanded tail and wings trailing on the ground, limping and fluttering before you, as if about to expire. It is true you know it to be an artifice, but it is an artifice taught by maternal love; and, when the bird has fairly got rid of her unwelcome visitor, and you see her start up on her legs, stretch forth her wings, and fly away piping her soft note, you cannot but participate in the joy that she feels.

The flight of this Plover is extremely rapid, as well as protracted. It passes through the air by glidings and extended flappings, either close over the sand, or high above the shores. On the ground, few birds are swifter of foot: It runs in a straight line before you, sometimes for twenty or thirty yards, with so much celerity, that unless you have a keen eye, it is almost sure to become lost to your view. Then, in an instant it stops, becomes perfectly motionless, and if it perceives that you have not marked it, squats flat on the sand, which it so much resembles in colour, that you may as well search for another, as try to find it again.

Their notes, which are so soft and mellow as nearly to resemble those of the sweetest songster of the forest, reach your ear long before you have espied the Piping Plover. Now and then, these sounds come from perhaps twenty different directions, and you are perplexed, as well as delighted. At the approach of autumn, this species becomes almost mute, the colour of the plumage fades; and it is then very difficult for you to perceive one that may be only a few yards off, until it starts and runs or flies before you. At this season they are less shy than before.

During winter they are generally in good condition, and their flesh is very delicate and savoury, although, on account of their small size, they seldom draw the sportsman after them. Their food consists of marine insects, minute shell-fish, and small sand worms.

Ringed Plover, Charadrius Hiaticula, var. Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. v. p. 30. pl. 37. fig. 3.

Charadrius melodus, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 296.

Piping Ringed Plover, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 18.

Male in Summer. Plate CCXX. Fig. 1.

Bill half the length of the head, straight, somewhat cylindrical. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight to the middle, then bulging a little and curving to the tip, which projects beyond that of the lower mandible, the sides flat and sloping at the base, convex towards the end, the edges sharp and overlapping. Nasal groove extended to the middle of the bill, filled with a bare membrane; nostrils basal, linear, in the lower part of the membrane, open, and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle rather short, rounded, the sides at the base sloping outwards and flat, the dorsal line ascending and slightly convex, the edges sharp and inflected.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed, the forehead rounded. Eyes large. Neck short. Body rather slender, ovate. Wings long. Feet of moderate length, slender; tibia bare a little above the joint; tarsus rather compressed, covered all round with reticulated angular scales; toes slender; the hind toe wanting; third or middle toe longest, outer toe considerably longer than inner, all scutellate above and marginate, the outer connected with the middle by a short membrane; claws small, compressed, obtuse, the rather blunt inner edge of the middle claw a little dilated.

Plumage soft and blended; the feathers rounded, those on the back somewhat distinct. Wings long and pointed; primary quills tapering, the first longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; inner secondaries tapering and elongated, so as nearly to equal the longest primaries. Tail of moderate length, slightly rounded, of twelve rather narrow feathers, which taper a little towards their rounded extremities.

Bill orange in its basal half, the rest black. Iris reddish-brown; margins of eyelids orange. Feet brownish-yellow; claws dusky. Forehead, sides of the face, throat, and the whole under parts, pure white. Upper parts pale brownish-grey. A black band across the upper part of the forehead, another surrounds the lower part of the neck, broad on the sides, but narrow above and below, where it is formed merely by the tips of some of the feathers. Above this is a white band over the hind neck, also very narrow above. Primaries dusky, each with a large white patch on a portion of the outer, and on the greater part of the inner web; secondaries of a lighter brown, white on the inner webs, some of those nearest the body entirely white; the five innermost like the back; most of the quills are more or less tipped with white, the primary and secondary coverts more distinctly so. The tail-feathers may be described as white; the second has a brown spot on the inner web towards the end, the third a larger spot or band on both webs, and the colour enlarges on the rest, until the middle feathers are nearly all dusky brown.

Length to end of tail 7 1/4 inches, to end of claws 7, to end of wings 6 3/4; extent of wings 15 1/2; wing from flexure 4 1/2; tail 2 2/12; bill along the back 1/2, along the edge of lower mandible 7/12; tarsus 9 1/2/12; middle toe 7 1/ 2 / 12 , its claw 2/12. Weight 3 oz.

Female in Summer. Plate CCXX. Fig. 2.

The Female is considerably smaller, but resembles the male in colouring, only the dark bands on the forehead and neck are narrower, and of a dusky brown tint.

Length to end of tail 7 inches, extent of wings 14 1/4.

The young, previous to their first moult, have the bill black, the feet flesh-coloured, with dusky claws. The colours of the plumage are nearly the same as in the adult, but there is no dark band on the forehead, and that on the lower neck is merely indicated by a brownish-grey patch on each side. The neck is surrounded by a collar of downy white feathers, and the tips and margins of the feathers of the head and back are pale ochre.

THE WRECKERS OF FLORIDA.

Long before I reached the lovely islets that border the south-eastern shores of the Floridas, the accounts I had heard of “The Wreckers” had deeply prejudiced me against them. Often had I been informed of the cruel and cowardly methods which it was alleged they employed to allure vessels of all nations to the dreaded reefs, that they might plunder their cargoes, and rob their crews and passengers of their effects. I therefore could have little desire to meet with such men under any circumstances, much less to become liable to receive their aid; and with the name of Wreckers, there were associated in my mind ideas of piratical depredation, barbarous usage, and even murder.

One fair afternoon, while I was standing on the polished deck of the United States’ revenue cutter the Marion, a sail hove in sight, bearing in an opposite course, and “close-hauled” to the wind. The gentle rake of her masts, as she rocked to and fro in the breeze, brought to my mind the wavings of the reeds on the fertile banks of the Mississippi. By-and-by the vessel altering her course, approached us. The Marion, like a sea-bird, with extended wings, swept through the waters, gently inclining to either side, while the unknown vessel leaped as it were from wave to wave, like the dolphin in eager pursuit of his prey. In a short time, we were gliding side by side, and the commander of the strange schooner saluted our captain, who promptly returned the compliment. What a beautiful vessel! we all thought; how trim, how clean-rigged, and how well manned! She swims like a duck; and now with a broad sheer, off she makes for the reefs, a few miles under our lee. There, in that narrow passage, well known to her commander, she rolls, tumbles, and dances, like a giddy thing, her copper sheathing now gleaming, and again disappearing under the waves. But the passage is thrid, and now, hauling on the wind, she resumes her former course, and gradually recedes from the view. Reader, it was a Florida Wrecker!

When at the Tortugas, I paid a visit to several vessels of this kind, in company with my excellent friend Robert Day, Esq. We had observed the regularity and quickness of the men then employed at their arduous tasks, and as we approached the largest schooner, I admired her form so well adapted to her occupation, her great breadth of beam, her light draught, the correctness of her water-line, the neatness of her painted sides, the smoothness of her well-greased masts, and the beauty of her rigging. We were welcomed on board with all the frankness of our native tars. Silence and order prevailed on her decks. The commander and the second officer led us into a spacious cabin, well lighted, and furnished with every convenience for fifteen or more passengers. The former brought me his collection of marine shells, and whenever I pointed to one that I had not seen before, offered it with so much kindness, that I found it necessary to be careful in expressing my admiration of any particular shell. He had also many eggs of rare birds, which were all handed over to me, with an assurance that before the month should expire, a new set could easily be procured, “for,” said he, “we have much idle time on the reefs at this season.” Dinner was served, and we partook of their fare, which consisted of fish, fowl, and other materials. These rovers, who were both from “down east,” were stout active men, cleanly and smart in their attire. In a short time, we were all extremely social and merry. They thought my visit to the Tortugas, in quest of birds, was rather “a curious fancy;” but, notwithstanding, they expressed their pleasure while looking at some of my drawings, and offered their services in procuring specimens. Expeditions far and near were proposed, and on settling that one of them was to take place on the morrow, we parted friends.

Early next morning, several of these kind men accompanied me to a small key called Booby Island, about ten miles distant from the lighthouse. Their boats were well manned, and rowed with long and steady strokes, such as whalers and men-of-war’s men are wont to draw. The captain sang, and at times, by way of frolic, ran a race with our own beautiful bark. The Booby Isle was soon reached, and our sport there was equal to any we had elsewhere. They were capital shots, had excellent guns, and knew more about boobies and noddies than nine-tenths of the best naturalists in the world. But what will you say when I tell you that the Florida Wreckers are excellent at a deer hunt, and that at certain seasons, “when business is slack,” they are wont to land on some extensive key, and in a few hours procure a supply of delicious venison.

Some days afterwards, the same party took me on an expedition in quest of sea-shells. There we were all in the water at times to the waist, and now and then much deeper. Now they would dip, like ducks, and on emerging would hold up a beautiful shell. This occupation they seemed to enjoy above all others.

The duties of the Marion having been performed, intimation of our intended departure reached the Wreckers. An invitation was sent to me to go and see them on board their vessels, which I accepted. Their object on this occasion was to present me with some superb corals, shells, live turtles of the Hawk-billed species, and a great quantity of eggs. Not a “pecayon” would they receive in return, but putting some letters in my hands, requested me to “be so good as put them in the mail at Charleston,” adding that they were for their wives “down east.” So anxious did they appear to be to do all they could for me, that they proposed to sail before the Marion, and meet her under weigh, to give me some birds that were rare on the coast, and of which they knew the haunts. Circumstances connected with “the service” prevented this, however; and with sincere regret, and a good portion of friendship, I bade these excellent fellows adieu. How different, thought I, is often the knowledge of things acquired by personal observation, from that obtained by report!

I had never before seen Florida Wreckers, nor has it since been my fortune to fall in with any; but my good friend, Dr Benjamin Strobel, having furnished me with a graphic account of a few days which he spent with them, I shall present you with it in his own words.

“On the 12th day of September, while lying in harbour at Indian Key, we were joined by five wrecking vessels. Their licences having expired, it was necessary to go to Key West to renew them. We determined to accompany them the next morning, and here it will not be amiss for me to say a few words respecting these far-famed Wreckers, their captains and crews. From all that I had heard, I expected to see a parcel of dirty, pirate-looking vessels, officered and manned by a set of black-whiskered fellows, who carried murder in their very looks. I was agreeably surprised on discovering that the vessels were fine large sloops and schooners, regular clippers, kept in first-rate order. The Captains generally were jovial, good-humoured sons of Neptune, who manifested a disposition to be polite and hospitable, and to afford every facility to persons passing up and down the Reef. The crews were hearty, well-drest, and honest-looking men.

“On the 13th, at the appointed hour, we all set sail together, that is, the five Wreckers and the schooner Jane. As our vessel was not noted for fast-sailing, we accepted an invitation to go on board of a Wrecker. The fleet got under weigh about eight o’clock in the morning, the wind light but fair, the water smooth, and the day fine. I can scarcely find words to express the pleasure and gratification which I this day experienced. The sea was of a beautiful soft, pea-green colour, smooth as a sheet of glass, and as transparent, its surface agitated only by our vessels as they parted its bosom, or by the Pelican in pursuit of his prey, which rising for a considerable distance in the air, would suddenly plunge down with distended mandibles and secure his food. The vessels of our little fleet, with every sail set that could catch a breeze, and the white foam curling round the prows, glided silently along, like islands of flitting shadows, on an immovable sea of light. Several fathoms below the surface of the water, and under us, we saw great quantities of fish diving and sporting among the sea-grass, sponges, sea-feathers, and corals, with which the bottom was covered. On our right hand were the Florida Keys, which, as we made them in the distance, looked like specks upon the surface of the water, but as we neared them, rose to view as if by enchantment, clad in the richest livery of spring, each variety of colour and hue rendered soft and delicate by a clear sky and a brilliant sun over head. All was like a fairy scene; my heart leaped up in delighted admiration, and I could not but exclaim in the language of Scott,

“Those seas behold,

Round thrice an hundred islands rolled.”

The trade-wind played around us with balmy and refreshing sweetness; and, to give life and animation to the scene, we had a contest for the mastery between all the vessels of the fleet, while a deep interest was excited in favour of this or that vessel, as she shot ahead, or fell astern.

About three o’clock in the afternoon, we arrived off the Bay of Honda. The wind being light, and no prospect of reaching Key West that night, it was agreed that we should make a harbour here. We entered a beautiful basin and came to anchor about four o’clock. Boats were got out, and several hunting parties formed. We landed, and were soon on the scent, some going in search of shells, others of birds. An Indian, who had been picked up somewhere along the coast by a Wrecker, and who was employed as a hunter, was sent ashore in search of venison. Previous to his leaving the vessel, a rifle was loaded with a single ball, and put into his hands. After an absence of several hours, he returned with two deer, which he had killed at a single shot. He watched until they were both in range of his gun, side by side, when he fired and brought them down.

All hands having returned, and the fruits of our excursion being collected, we had wherewithal to make an abundant supper. Most of the game was sent on board the largest vessel, where we proposed supping. Our vessels were all lying within hail of each other, and as soon as the moon arose, boats were seen passing from vessel to vessel, and all were busily and happily engaged in exchanging civilities. One could never have supposed that these men were professional rivals, so apparent was the good-feeling that prevailed among them. About nine o’clock we started for supper; a number of persons had already collected, and as soon as we arrived on board the vessel, a German sailor, who played remarkably well on the violin, was summoned on the quarter-deck, when all hands, with a good will, cheerily danced to lively airs until supper was ready. The table was laid in the cabin, and groaned under its load of venison, wild ducks, pigeons, curlews, and fish. Toasting and singing succeeded the supper, and among other curious matters introduced, the following song was sung by the German fiddler, who accompanied his voice with his instrument. He is said to be the author of the song. I say nothing of the poetry, but merely give it as it came on my ear. It is certainly very characteristic.

THE WRECKER’S SONG.

Come ye, goot people, von and all,

Come listen to my song:

A few remarks I have to make,

Which vont be very long.

’Tis of our vessel stout and goot,

As ever yet was built of woot,

Along the reef where the breakers roar,

De Wreckers on de Florida shore!

Key Tavernier’s our rendezvous;

At anchor there we lie,

And see the vessels in the Gulf,

Carelessly passing by.

When night comes on we dance and sing,

Whilst the current some vessel is floating in;

When day-light comes, a ship’s on shore,

Among de rocks where de breakers roar.

When day-light dawns, we’re under weigh,

And every sail is set,

And if the wind it should prove light,

Why then, our sails we wet.

To gain her first each eager strives,

To save de cargo and de people’s lives,

Amongst de rocks where de breakers roar,

De Wreckers on de Florida shore.

When we get ’longside, we find she’s bilged:

We know vel vat to do,

Save de cargo dat we can,

De sails and rigging too;

Den down to Key West we soon vill go,

When quickly our salvage we shall know;

When every ting it is fairly sold,

Our money down to us it is told.

Den one week’s cruize we’ll have on shore,

Before we do sail again,

And drink success to de sailor lads

Dat are ploughing of de main.

And when you are passing by dis way,

On the Florida Reef should you chance to stray,

Why, we will come to you on de shore,

Amongst de rocks where de breakers roar.

Great emphasis was laid upon particular words by the singer, who had a broad German accent. Between the verses he played a symphony, remarking, “Gentlemens, I makes dat myself.” The chorus was trolled by twenty or thirty voices, which, in the stillness of the night, produced no unpleasant effect.

THE MALLARD.

Anas Boschas, Linn.
PLATE CCXXI. Males and Females.

Although it is commonly believed that the Mallard is found abundantly everywhere in the United States, I have received sufficient proof to the contrary. If authors had acknowledged that they state so on report, or had said that in the tame state the bird is common, I should not have blamed them. According to my observation, and I may be allowed to say that I have had good opportunities, this valuable species is extremely rare in the wild state, in the neighbourhood of Boston in Massachusetts; and in this assertion, I am supported by my talented and amiable friend Mr Nuttall, who has resided there for many years. Farther eastward, this bird is so rare that it is scarcely known, and not one was seen by myself or my party beyond Portland in Maine. On the western coast of Labrador none of the inhabitants that we conversed with had ever seen the Mallard, and in Newfoundland the people were equally unacquainted with it, the species being in those countries replaced by the Black Duck, Anas fusca. From New York southward, the Mallards become more plentiful, and numbers of them are seen in the markets of Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond in Virginia, and other towns. Although they are very abundant in the Carolinas and Floridas, as well as in Lower Louisiana, they are much more so in the Western Country. The reason of this is merely that the Mallard, unlike the sea ducks, is rarely seen on salt water, and that its course from the countries where it chiefly breeds is across the interior of the continent. From our great lakes, they spread along the streams, betake themselves to the ponds, wet meadows, submersed savannahs, and inland swamps, and are even found in the thick beech woods, in early autumn, and indeed long before the males have acquired the dark green colour of the head. Many of them proceed beyond the limits of the United States.

It would be curious to know when this species was first domesticated; but, Reader, the solution of such a question is a task on which I shall not venture. In the domestic state every body knows the Mallard. When young it affords excellent food, and when old lays eggs. A bed made of its feathers is far preferable to the damp earth of the camp of an American woodsman, or the plank on which the trained soldier lays his wearied limbs at night. You may find many other particulars if you consult in chronological order all the compilers from Aldrovandus to the present day.

Be not startled, good Reader, when I tell you that many of these ducks are bred in the lakes near the Mississippi, nay even in some of the small ponds in the low lands or bottoms of the States of Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois; for in many parts of those districts I have surprised the females on their eggs, have caught the young when their mother was cautiously and with anxiety leading them for greater safety to some stream, and have shot many a fat one before the poor thing could fly, and when it was so plump, tender, and juicy, that I doubt much whether, you, like myself, should not much prefer them to the famed Canvass-backed Duck.

Look at that Mallard as he floats on the lake; see his elevated head glittering with emerald-green, his amber eyes glancing in the light! Even at this distance, he has marked you, and suspects that you bear no good will towards him, for he sees that you have a gun, and he has many a time been frightened by its report, or that of some other. The wary bird draws his feet under his body, springs upon them, opens his wings, and with loud quacks bids you farewell.

Now another is before you, on the margin of that purling streamlet. How brisk are all his motions compared with those of his brethren that waddle across your poultry-yard! how much more graceful in form and neat in apparel! The duck at home is the descendant of a race of slaves, and has lost his native spirit: his wings have been so little used that they can hardly raise him from the ground. But the free-born, the untamed duck of the swamps,—see how he springs on wing, and hies away over the woods.

The Mallards generally arrive in Kentucky and other parts of the Western Country, from the middle of September to the first of October, or as soon as the acorns and beech-nuts are fully ripe. In a few days they are to be found in all the ponds that are covered with seed-bearing grasses. Some flocks, which appear to be guided by an experienced leader, come directly down on the water with a rustling sound of their wings that can be compared only to the noise produced by an Eagle in the act of stooping upon its prey, while other flocks, as if they felt uneasy respecting the safety of the place, sweep around and above it several times in perfect silence, before they alight. In either case, the birds immediately bathe themselves, beat their bodies with their wings, dive by short plunges, and cut so many capers that you might imagine them to be stark mad. The fact, however, seems to be, that all this alacrity and gaiety only shews the necessity they feel of clearing themselves of the insects about their plumage, as well as the pleasure they experience on finding themselves in a milder climate, with abundance of food around them, after a hard journey of perhaps a day and a night. They wash themselves and arrange their dress, before commencing their meal; and in this other travellers would do well to imitate them.

Now, towards the grassy margins they advance in straggling parties. See how they leap from the water to bend the loaded tops of the tall reeds. Woe be to the slug or snail that comes in their way. Some are probing the mud beneath, and waging war against the leech, frog, or lizard, that is within reach of their bills; while many of the older birds run into the woods, to fill their crops with beech-nuts and acorns, not disdaining to swallow also, should they come in their way, some of the wood-mice that, frightened by the approach of the foragers, hie towards their burrows. The cackling they keep up would almost deafen you, were you near them; but it is suddenly stopped by the approach of some unusual enemy, and at once all are silent. With heads erected on out-stretched necks, they anxiously look around. It is nothing, however, but a bear, who being, like themselves, fond of mast, is ploughing up the newly fallen leaves with his muzzle, or removing an old rotting log in search of worms. The ducks resume their employment. But another sound is now heard, one more alarming. The bear raises himself on his hind legs, snuffs the air, and with a loud snort gallops off towards the depths of his cane-brake. The ducks retreat to the water, betake themselves to the centre of the pool, and uttering half-stifled notes await the sight of the object they dread. There the enemy cunningly advances first covered by one tree, then by another. He has lost his chance of the bear, but as he is pushed by hunger, a Mallard will do for the bullet of his rusty rifle. It is an Indian, as you perceive by his red skin and flowing black hair, which, however, has been cut close from the sides of his head. In the centre of his dearly purchased blanket, a hole has been cut, through which he has thrust his bare head, and the ragged garment, like a horse’s netting, is engaged as it were in flapping off the last hungry musquitoes of the season that are fast sucking the blood from his limbs. Watch him, Mallard, Nay, wait no longer, for I see him taking aim; better for you all to fly! No—well, one of you will certainly furnish him with a repast. Amid the dark wood rises the curling smoke, the report comes on my ear, the ducks all rise save a pair, that, with back downwards and feet kicking against the air, have been hit by the prowler. The free son of the forest slowly approaches the pool, judges at a glance of the depth of the mire, and boldly advances, until with a cane he draws the game towards him. Returning to the wood, he now kindles a little fire, the feathers fill the air around; from each wing he takes a quill, to clean the touch-hole of his gun in damp weather; the entrails he saves to bait some trap. In a short time the ducks are ready, and the hunter enjoys his meal, although brief time does he take in swallowing the savoury morsels. Soon, the glimmering light of the moon will see him again on his feet, and lead him through the woods, as he goes in pursuit of other game.

The Mallards that remain with us during the whole year, and breed on the banks of the Mississippi or Lake Michigan, or in the beautiful meadows that here and there border the Schuylkil in Pennsylvania, begin to pair in the very heart of winter; and although ducks are quite destitute of song, their courtships are not devoid of interest. The males, like other gay deceivers, offer their regards to the first fair one that attracts their notice, promise unremitting fidelity and affection, and repeat their offers to the next they meet. See that drake, how he proudly shews, first the beauty of his silky head, then the brilliancy of his wing-spots, and, with honeyed jabberings, discloses the warmth of his affection. He plays around this one, then around another, until the passion of jealousy is aroused in the breasts of the admired and flattered. Bickerings arise; the younger duck disdains her elder sister, and a third, who conceives herself a coquette of the first order, interposes, as if to ensure the caresses of the feathered beau. Many tricks are played by ducks, good Reader, but ere long, the females retire in search of a safe place in which they may deposit their eggs and rear their young. They draw a quantity of weed around them, and form an ill-arranged sort of nest, in which from seven to ten eggs are laid. From their bodies they pluck the softest down, and placing it beneath the eggs, begin the long process of incubation, which they intermit only for short periods, when it becomes absolutely necessary to procure a little sustenance.

At length, in about three weeks, the young began to cheep in the shell, from which, after a violent struggle, they make their escape. What beautiful creatures! See how, with their little bills, they dry their downy apparel! Now in a long line, one after another, they follow their glad mother to the water, on arriving at which they take to swimming and diving, as if elated with joy for having been introduced into existence. The male, wearied and emaciated, is far away on some other pond. The unnatural barbarian cares nothing about his progeny, nor has a thought arisen in his mind respecting the lonely condition of his mate, the greatness of her cares, or the sadness that she may experience under the idea that she has been utterly forsaken by him who once called her his only and truly beloved. No, Reader, not a thought of this kind has he wasted on her whom he has left alone in charge of a set of eggs, and now of a whole flock of innocent ducklings, to secure which from danger, and see them all grow up apace, she manifests the greatest care and anxiety. She leads them along the shallow edges of grassy ponds, and teaches them to seize the small insects that abound there, the flies, the musquitoes, the giddy beetles that skim along the surface in circles and serpentine lines. At the sight of danger they run as it were on the water, make directly for the shore, or dive and disappear. In about six weeks, those that have escaped from the ravenous fishes and turtles have attained a goodly size; the quills appear on their wings; their bodies are encased with feathers; but as yet none are able to fly. They now procure their food by partial immersions of the head and neck in the manner of the old bird. At this period they are already fit for the table, and delicate as well as savoury food they afford. By the time that the leaves are changing their hues, the young Mallards take freely to their wings, and the old males join the congregated flocks.

The Squatters of the Mississippi raise a considerable number of Mallards, which they catch when quite young, and which, after the first year, are as tame as they can wish. These birds raise broods which are superior even to those of the wild ones, for a year or two, after which they become similar to the ordinary ducks of the poultry-yard. The hybrids produced between the Mallard and the Muscovy Duck are of great size, and afford excellent eating. Some of these half-breeds now and then wander off, become quite wild, and have by some persons been considered as forming a distinct species. They also breed, when tame, with the Black Duck (Anas fusca) and the Gadwal, the latter connection giving rise to a very handsome hybrid, retaining the yellow feet and barred plumage of the one, and the green head of the other parent.

I have found the Mallard breeding on large prostrate and rotten logs, three feet above the ground, and in the centre of a cane-brake, nearly a mile distant from any water. Once I found a female leading her young through the woods, and no doubt conducting them towards the Ohio. When I first saw her, she had already observed me, and had squatted flat among the grass, with her brood around her. As I moved onwards, she ruffled her feathers, and hissed at me in the manner of a goose, while the little ones scampered off in all directions. I had an excellent dog, well instructed to catch young birds without injuring them, and I ordered him to seek for them. On this the mother took to wing, and flew through the woods as if about to fall down at every yard or so. She passed and repassed over the dog, as if watching the success of his search; and as one after another the ducklings were brought to me, and struggled in my bird-bag, the distressed parent came to the ground near me, rolled and tumbled about, and so affected me by her despair, that I ordered my dog to lie down, while, with a pleasure that can be felt only by those who are parents themselves, I restored to her the innocent brood, and walked off. As I turned round to observe her, I really thought I could perceive gratitude expressed in her eye; and a happier moment I never felt while rambling in search of knowledge through the woods.

In unfrequented parts, the Mallards feed both by day and by night; but in places where they are much disturbed by gunners, they feed mostly by night, or towards evening and about sunrise. In extremely cold weather, they betake themselves to the sources of streams, and even to small springs, where they may be found along with the American Snipe. At times, after heavy falls of rain, they are seen searching for ground-worms over the corn-fields, and during the latter part of autumn, the rice plantations of Georgia and the Carolinas afford them excellent pasture grounds. I have thought indeed that at this season these birds perform a second migration as it were, for they then pour into the rice-fields by thousands from the interior. In the Floridas, they are at times seen in such multitudes as to darken the air, and the noise they make in rising from off a large submersed savannah, is like the rumbling of thunder. So numerous were the Mallards while I was at General Hernandez’s in East Florida, that a single Negro whom that gentleman kept as a hunter, would shoot from fifty to a hundred and twenty in a day, thus supplying the plantation with excellent food.

The flight of the Mallard is swift, strong, and well sustained. It rises either from the ground or from the water at a single spring, and flies almost perpendicularly for ten or fifteen yards, or, if in a thick wood, until quite above the tops of the tallest trees, after which it moves horizontally. If alarmed, it never rises without uttering several quacks; but on other occasions it usually leaves its place in silence. While travelling to any distance; the whistling sound of their wings may be heard a great way off, more especially in the quiet of night. Their progress through the air I have thought might be estimated at a mile and a half in the minute; and I feel very confident that when at full speed and on a long journey, they can fly at the rate of a hundred and twenty miles in the hour.

The Mallard is truly omnivorous, its food consisting of every thing that can possibly satisfy the cravings of its extraordinary appetite. Nor is it at all cleanly in this respect, for it will swallow any kind of offals, and feed on all sorts of garbage, even putrid fish, as well as on snakes and small quadrupeds. Nuts and fruits of all kinds are dainties to it, and it soon fattens on rice, corn, or any other grain. My friend John Bachman, who usually raises a great number of Mallards every year, has the young fed on chopped fish, on which they thrive uncommonly well. So very greedy are these birds, that I have often observed a couple of them tugging for a long time against each other for the skin of an eel, which was already half swallowed by the one, while the other was engaged at the opposite end. They are expert fly-catchers, and are in the habit of patting with their feet the damp earth, to force ground-worms out of their burrows.

Besides man, the enemies of the Mallard are the White-headed Eagle, the Snowy Owl, the Virginian Owl, the racoon, the lynx, and the snapping turtle. Mallards are easily caught by snares, steel-traps baited with corn, and figure-of-four traps. As we have no decoys in the United States, I shall not trouble you with a new edition of the many accounts you will find in ornithological books of that destructive method of procuring Wild Ducks.

The eggs of this species measure two inches and a quarter in length, one inch and five-eighths in breadth. The shell is smooth, and of a plain light dingy green. They are smaller than those of the tame duck, and rarely so numerous. As soon as incubation commences, the males associate together in flocks, until the young are able to migrate. This species raises only one brood in the season, and I never found its nest with eggs in autumn. The female covers her eggs before she leaves them to go in search of food, and thus keeps them sufficiently warm until her return.

Anas Boschas, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 205.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 850.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 383.

Mallard, Anas Boschas, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 112. pl. 70. fig. 7.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 378.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXI. Fig. 1. 1.

Bill about the length of the head, higher than broad at the base, depressed and widened towards the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line sloping and a little concave, the ridge at the base broad and flat, towards the end broadly convex, as are the sides, the edges soft and rather obtuse, the marginal lamellæ transverse, fifty on each side; the unguis oval, curved, abrupt at the end. Nasal groove elliptical, subbasal, filled by the soft membrane of the bill; nostrils subbasal, placed near the ridge, longitudinal, elliptical, pervious. Lower mandible slightly curved upwards, with the angle very long, narrow, and rather pointed, the lamellæ about sixty.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed; neck rather long and slender; body full, depressed. Feet short, stout, placed a little behind the centre of the body; legs bare a little above the joint; tarsus short, a little compressed, anteriorly with small scutella, laterally and behind with reticulated angular scales. Hind toe extremely small, with a very narrow membrane; third toe longest, fourth a little shorter, but longer than second; all the toes covered above with numerous oblique scutella; the three anterior connected by reticulated membranes, the outer with a thick margin, the inner with the margin extended into a slightly lobed web. Claws small, arched, compressed, rather acute, that of the middle toe much larger, with a dilated, thin, inner edge.

Plumage dense, soft, and elastic; of the head and neck short, blended, and splendent; of the other parts in general broad and rounded. Wings of moderate length, acute; primaries narrow and tapering, the second longest, the first very little shorter; secondaries broad, curved inwards, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail short, much rounded, of sixteen acute feathers, of which the four central are recurved.

Bill greenish-yellow. Iris dark brown. Feet orange-red. Head and upper part of neck deep green, a ring of white about the middle of the neck; lower part of the neck anteriorly, and fore part of breast, dark brownish-chestnut; fore part of back light yellowish-brown, tinged with grey; the rest of the back brownish-black, the rump black, splendent with green and purplish-blue reflections, as are the recurved tail-feathers. Upper surface of wings greyish-brown, the scapulars lighter except their inner webs, and with the anterior dorsal feathers minutely undulated with brown. The speculum on about ten of the secondaries is of brilliant changing purple and green, edged with velvet-black and white, the anterior bands of black and white being on the secondary coverts. Breast, sides, and abdomen, very pale grey, minutely undulated with darker; lower tail-coverts black with blue reflections.

Length to the end of the tail 24 inches, to the end of the claws 23, to the tips of the wings 22; extent of wings 36; wing from flexure 10 1/2; tail 4 1/4; bill 2 2/12; tarsus 1 3/4; middle toe 2 2/12, its claw 5/12. Weight from 2 1/2 to 3 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXI. Figs. 2. 2.

Bill black in the middle, dull orange at the extremities and along the edges. Iris as in the male, as are the feet. The general colour of the upper parts is pale yellowish-brown, streaked and spotted with dusky brown. The feathers of the head narrowly streaked, of the back with the margin and a central streak yellowish-brown, the rest dark, of the scapulars similar, but with the light streak on the outer web. The wings are nearly as in the male, the speculum similar, but with less green. The lower parts dull ochre, deeper on the lower neck, and spotted with brown.

Length 22 inches. Weight from 2 lb. to 2 1/2.

The Young acquire the full plumage in the course of the first winter.

THE WHITE IBIS.

Ibis alba, Vieill.
PLATE CCXXII. Adult Male, and Young.

Sandy Island, of which I have already spoken in my second volume, is remarkable as a breeding-place for various species of water and land birds. It is about a mile in length, not more than a hundred yards broad, and in form resembles a horse-shoe, the inner curve of which looks toward Cape Sable in Florida, from which it is six miles distant. At low water, it is surrounded to a great distance by mud flats abounding in food for wading and swimming birds, while the plants, the fruits, and the insects of the island itself, supply many species that are peculiar to the land. Besides the White Ibis, we found breeding there the Brown Pelican, the Purple, the Louisiana, the White, and the Green Herons, two species of Gallinule, the Cardinal Grosbeak, Crows, and Pigeons. The vegetation consists of a few tall mangroves, thousands of wild plum trees, several species of cactus, some of them nearly as thick as a man’s body, and more than twenty feet high, different sorts of smilax, grape-vines, cane, palmettoes, Spanish bayonets, and the rankest nettles I ever saw,—all so tangled together, that I leave you to guess how difficult it was for my companions and myself to force a passage through them in search of birds’ nests, which, however, we effected, although the heat was excessive, and the stench produced by the dead birds, putrid eggs, and the natural effluvia of the Ibises, was scarcely sufferable. But then, the White Ibis was there, and in thousands; and, although I already knew the bird, I wished to study its manners once more, that I might be enabled to present you with an account of them, which I now proceed to do,—endeavouring all the while to forget the pain of the numerous scratches and lacerations of my legs caused by the cactuses of Sandy Island.

As we entered that well-known place, we saw nests on every bush, cactus, or tree. Whether the number was one thousand or ten I cannot say, but this I well know:—I counted forty-seven on a single plum-tree. These nests of the White Ibis measure about fifteen inches in their greatest diameter, and are formed of dry twigs intermixed with fibrous roots and green branches of the trees growing on the island, which this bird easily breaks with its bill; the interior, which is flat, being finished with leaves of the cane and some other plants. The bird breeds only once in the year, and the full number of its eggs is three. They measure two inches and a quarter in length, with a diameter of one inch and five-eighths, are rough to the touch, although not granulated, of a dull white colour, blotched with pale yellow, and irregularly spotted with deep reddish-brown. They afford excellent eating, although when boiled they do not look inviting, the white resembling a livid-coloured jelly, and the yolk being of a reddish-orange, the former wonderfully transparent, instead of being opaque like that of most other birds. The eggs are deposited from the 10th of April to the 1st of May, and incubation is general by the 10th of the latter month. The young birds, which are at first covered with thick down of a dark grey colour, are fed by regurgitation. They take about five weeks to be able to fly, although they leave the nest at the end of three weeks, and stand on the branches, or on the ground, waiting the arrival of their parents with food, which consists principally of small fiddler crabs and crayfish. On some occasions, I have found them at this age miles away from the breeding-places, and in this state they are easily caught. As soon as the young are able to provide for themselves, the old birds leave them, and the different individuals are then seen searching for food apart. While nestling or in the act of incubating, these Ibises are extremely gentle and unwary, unless they may have been much disturbed, for they almost allow you to touch them on the nest. The females are silent all the while, but the males evince their displeasure by uttering sounds which greatly resemble those of the White-headed Pigeon, and which may be imitated by the syllables crooh, croo, croo. The report of a gun scarcely alarms them at first, although at all other periods these birds are shy and vigilant in the highest degree.

The change in the colouring of the bill, legs, and feet of this bird, that takes place in the breeding-season, is worthy of remark, the bill being then of a deep orange red, and the legs and feet of a red nearly amounting to carmine. The males at this season have the gular pouch of a rich orange colour, and somewhat resembling in shape that of the Frigate Pelican, although proportionally less. During winter, these parts are of a dull flesh colour. The irides also lose much of their clear blue, and resume in some degree the umber colour of the young birds. I am thus particular in these matters, because it is doubtful if any one else has ever paid attention to them.

While breeding, the White Ibises go to a great distance in search of food for their young, flying in flocks of several hundreds. Their excursions take place at particular periods, determined by the decline of the tides, when all the birds that are not sitting go off, perhaps twenty or thirty miles, to the great mud flats, where they collect abundance of food, with which they return the moment the tide begins to flow. As the birds of this genus feed by night as well as by day, the White Ibis attends the tides at whatever hour they may be. Some of those which bred on Sandy Key would go to the keys next the Atlantic, more than forty miles distant, while others made for the Ever Glades; but they never went off singly. They rose with common accord from the breeding-ground, forming themselves into long lines, often a mile in extent, and soon disappeared from view. Soon after the turn of the tide we saw them approaching in the same order. Not a note could you have heard on those occasions; yet if you disturb them when far from their nests, they utter loud hoarse cries resembling the syllables hunk, hunk, hunk, either while on the ground or as they fly off.

The flight of the White Ibis is rapid and protracted. Like all other species of the genus, these birds pass through the air with alternate flappings and sailings; and I have thought that the use of either mode depended upon the leader of the flock, for, with the most perfect regularity, each individual follows the motion of that preceding it, so that a constant appearance of regular undulations is produced through the whole line. If one is shot at this time, the whole line is immediately broken up, and for a few minutes all is disorder; but as they continue their course, they soon resume their former arrangement. The wounded bird never attempts to bite or to defend itself in any manner, although, if only winged, it runs off with more speed than is pleasant to its pursuer.

At other times the White Ibis, like the Red and the Wood Ibises, rises to an immense height in the air, where it performs beautiful evolutions. After they have thus, as it were, amused themselves for some time, they glide down with astonishing speed, and alight either on trees or on the ground. Should the sun be shining, they appear in their full beauty, and the glossy black tips of their wings form a fine contrast with the yellowish-white of the rest of their plumage.

This species is as fond of resorting to the ponds, bayous, or lakes that are met with in the woods, as the Wood Ibis itself. I have found it breeding there at a distance of more than three hundred miles from the sea, and remaining in the midst of the thickest forests until driven off to warmer latitudes by the approach of winter. This is the case in the State of Mississippi, not far from Natchez, and in all the swampy forests around Bayou Sara and Pointe Coupée, as well as the interior of the Floridas. When disturbed in such places, these Ibises fly at once to the tops of the tallest trees, emitting their hoarse hunk, and watch your motions with so much care that it is extremely difficult to get within shot of them.

The manner in which this bird searches for its food is very curious. The Woodcock and the Snipe, it is true, are probers as well as it, but their task requires less ingenuity than is exercised by the White or the Red Ibis. It is also true that the White Ibis frequently seizes on small crabs, slugs and snails, and even at times on flying insects; but its usual mode of procuring food is a strong proof that cunning enters as a principal ingredient in its instinct. The Cray-fish often burrows to the depth of three or four feet in dry weather, for before it can be comfortable it must reach the water. This is generally the case during the prolonged heats of summer, at which time the White Ibis is most pushed for food. The bird, to procure the Cray-fish, walks with remarkable care towards the mounds of mud which the latter throws up while forming its hole, and breaks up the upper part of the fabric, dropping the fragments into the deep cavity that has been made by the animal. Then the Ibis retires a single step, and patiently waits the result. The Cray-fish, incommoded by the load of earth, instantly sets to work anew, and at last reaches the entrance of its burrow; but the moment it comes in sight, the Ibis seizes it with his bill.

Whilst at Indian Key, I observed an immense quantity of beautiful tree snails, of a pyramidal or shortly conical form, some pure white, others curiously marked with spiral lines of bright red, yellow and black. They were crawling vigorously on every branch of each bush where there was not a nest of the White Ibis; but wherever that bird had fixed its habitation, not a live snail was to be seen, although hundreds lay dead beneath. Was this caused by the corrosive quality of the bird’s ordure?

There is a curious though not altogether general difference between the sexes of this species as to the plumage:—the male has five of its primaries tipped with glossy black for several inches, while the female, which is very little smaller than the male, has only four marked in this manner. On examining more than a hundred individuals of each sex, I found only four exceptions, which occurred in females that were very old birds, and which, as happens in some other species, might perhaps have been undergoing the curious change exhibited by ducks, pheasants, and some other birds, the females of which when old sometimes assume the livery of the males.

Much, as you are aware, good Reader, has been said respecting the “oil bags” of birds. I dislike controversy, simply because I never saw the least indications of it in the ways of the Almighty Creator. Should I err, forgive me, but my opinion is, that these organs were not made without an object. Why should they consist of matter so conveniently placed, and so disposed as to issue under the least pressure, through apertures in the form of well defined tubes? The White Ibis, as well as the Wood Ibis, and all the other species of this genus, when in full health, has these oil bags of great size, and, if my eyes have not deceived me, makes great use of their contents. Should you feel anxious to satisfy yourself on this subject, I request of you to keep some Ibises alive for several weeks, as I have done, and you will have an opportunity of judging. And again, tell me if the fat contained in these bags is not the very best lip-salve that can be procured.

When any species of Ibis with which I am acquainted falls into the water on being wounded, it swims tolerably well; but I have never observed any taking to the water and swimming either by choice or to escape pursuit. While in the company of Mr Joseph Mason, a young man who was for some time employed by me, and who has drawn plants to some of my birds, although not so successfully as my amiable friend Miss Martin, or George Lehman, who finish those they draw as beautifully as my learned and valued friend William Macgillivray of Edinburgh does his faithful drawings of birds, I chanced one morning to be on the look-out for White Ibises, in a delightful swamp not many miles from Bayou Sara. It was in the end of summer, and all around was pure and calm as the clear sky, the bright azure of which was reflected by the lake before us. The trees had already exchanged the verdure of their foliage for more mellow tints of diversified hue; the mast dropped from the boughs; some of the Warblers had begun to think of removing farther south; the Night Hawk, in company with the Chimney Swallow, was passing swiftly towards the land of their winter residence, and the Ibises had all departed for the Florida coasts, excepting a few of the white species, one of which we at length espied. It was perched about fifty yards from us towards the centre of the pool, and as the report of one of our guns echoed among the tall cypresses, down to the water, broken-winged, it fell. The exertions which it made to reach the shore seemed to awaken the half-torpid alligators that lay in the deep mud at the bottom of the pool. One shewed his head above the water, then a second and a third. All gave chase to the poor wounded bird, which, on seeing its dreaded and deadly foes, made double speed towards the very spot where we stood. I was surprised to see how much faster the bird swam than the reptiles, who, with jaws widely opened, urged their heavy bodies through the water. The Ibis was now within a few yards of us. It was the alligator’s last chance. Springing forward as it were, he raised his body almost out of the water; his jaws nearly touched the terrified bird; when pulling three triggers at once, we lodged the contents of our guns in the throat of the monster. Thrashing furiously with his tail, and rolling his body in agony, the alligator at last sunk to the mud; and the Ibis, as if in gratitude, walked to our very feet, and there lying down, surrendered itself to us. I kept this bird until the succeeding spring, and by care and good nursing, had the pleasure of seeing its broken wing perfectly mended, when, after its long captivity, I restored it to liberty, in the midst of its loved swamps and woods.

The young bird of this species which I kept alive for some time, fed freely, after a few days captivity, on soaked Indian corn meal, but evinced great pleasure when cray-fishes were offered to it. On seizing one, it beat it sideways on the ground, until the claws and legs were broken off, after which it swallowed the body whole. It was fond of lying on its side in the sun for an hour or so at a time, pluming its body and nursing the sore wing. It walked lightly and very gracefully, though not so much so as the Herons. It did not molest its companions, and became very gentle and tame, following those who fed it like a common fowl.

The Creoles of Louisiana call this species “Bee croche,” and also “Petit Flaman,” though it is also generally known by the name of “Spanish Curlew.” The flesh, which, as well as the skin, is of a dull orange colour, is extremely fishy, although the birds are often sold in our southernmost markets, and are frequently eaten by the Indians.

The White Ibis has been shot eastward as far as New Jersey. Of this I have been made aware by my generous friend Edward Harris, Esq. I never saw one farther up the Mississippi than Memphis.

Tantalus albus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 242.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 705.

White Ibis, Tantalus albus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 43. pl. 66. fig. 3.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 86.

Ibis alba, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 312.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXII. Fig. 1.

Bill very long, slender, deeper than broad, compressed, tapering, arcuate, obtuse at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line arched in its whole length, the ridge convex, broader towards the end, the sides at the base nearly erect, towards the end very convex and narrow, the ridge separated in its whole length from the sides by a deep narrow groove, the edges inflected and sharp. Nostrils basal, dorsal, linear, direct. Lower mandible nearly equal to upper, its angle very narrow, and protracted in the form of a groove to the tip, the sides convex, the edges sharp, but strong.

Head small, compressed; neck long and slender; body slender, deeper than broad; wings rather large. Feet very long, slender; tibiæ long, bare about half their length, and covered all round with hexagonal scales; tarsi long, slender, anteriorly covered with numerous broad scutella, the rest with hexagonal scales; toes slender, the first much smaller, the third longest, the fourth considerably shorter, the second very little shorter than the fourth, all covered above with numerous scutella, laterally with angular scales, beneath flattened with thick soft margins; the anterior connected at the base by membranes, of which the outer is longer; claws small, arched, compressed, obtuse, the middle one with a sharp thin edge.

Head and throat bare to beyond the eyes, as are the tibiæ nearly half way up. Plumage in general soft, unglossed, the feathers rather blended, those of the head and neck narrow and more blended. Wings long, ample, some of the secondaries as long as the longest primary when the wings are closed; third quill longest, but second and fourth almost as long, first longer than fifth; secondaries broad and rounded. Tail short, slightly emarginate and rounded, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bare parts of the head light orange-red; bill the same, but towards the tip dusky. Iris of a fine pearly blue. Legs and toes paler than the bill; claws dusky, tipped with horn colour. Plumage pure white, excepting the ends of from three to five of the outer primaries, which are deep black, with blue and green reflexions.

Length to end of tail 24 1/2 inches, to end of wings 27, to end of claws 31 1/2; extent of wings 40; wing from flexure 12 1/2; tail 4 3/4; bill along the back 5 1/4, along the edge 5 3/4; bare space of tibia 1 3/4, tarsus 3 1/4, middle toe 2 1/8, its claw 3/8. Weight 2 lb.

The adults vary considerably in size, and remarkably in the length of the bill. The extent of the bare space on the head varies according to age. In the breeding season the bill and legs are bright carmine; during the rest of the year paler.

Young bird killed in September. Plate CCXXII. Fig. 2.

In its first plumage this species is of a dull brown colour all over, excepting the rump, which is whitish, and the tail, which is tinged with grey.

After the first moult, the bill is pale yellowish-orange, toward the base greenish; the naked parts of the head are pale orange-yellow, inclining to flesh-colour; the eye dark brown; the feet pale blue. The plumage is of a dull olivaceous brown, the quills darker, the tail rather lighter, the hind part of the back white, the breast and abdomen white.

The Crayfish represented in the plate will be found described in the article entitled “[the White Perch and its favourite bait.]”

THE AMERICAN OYSTER-CATCHER.

Hæmatopus palliatus, Temm.
PLATE CCXXIII. Male.

Our Oyster-Catcher has a very extensive range. It spends the winter along the coast from Maryland to the Gulf of Mexico, and being then abundant on the shores of the Floridas, may be considered a constant resident in the United States. At the approach of spring, it removes toward the Middle States, where, as well as in North Carolina, it breeds. It seems scarcer between Long Island and Portland in Maine, where you again see it, and whence it occurs all the way to Labrador, in which country I found that several were breeding in the month of July. Unless in winter, when these birds assemble in parties of twenty-five or thirty individuals, they are seldom met with in greater numbers than from one to four pairs, with their families, which appear to remain with the parent birds until the following spring. It is never found inland, nor even far up our largest rivers, but is fond of remaining at all times on the sandy beaches and rocky shores of our salt-water bays or marshes. In Labrador, I met with it farther from the open sea than in any other part, yet always near salt-water. I have never met with any other species on the coasts of North America.

Shy, vigilant, and ever on the alert, the Oyster-Catcher walks with a certain appearance of dignity, greatly enhanced by its handsome plumage and remarkable bill. If you stop to watch it, that instant it sounds a loud shrill note of alarm; and should you advance farther towards it, when it has neither nest nor young, off it flies quite out of sight. Few birds, indeed, are more difficult to be approached, and the only means of studying its habits I found to be the use of an excellent telescope, with which I could trace its motions when at the distance of a quarter of a mile, and pursuing its avocations without apprehension of danger. In this manner I have seen it probe the sand to the full length of its bill, knock off limpets from the rocks on the coast of Labrador, using its weapon sideways and insinuating it between the rock and the shell like a chisel, seize the bodies of gaping oysters on what are called in the Southern States and the Floridas “Racoon oyster beds,” and at other times take up a “razor-handle” or solen, and lash it against the sands until the shell was broken and the contents swallowed. Now and then they seem to suck the sea-urchins, driving in the mouth, and introducing their bill by the aperture, without breaking the shell; again they are seen wading up to their bodies from one place to another, seizing on shrimps and other crustacea, and even swimming for a few yards, should this be necessary to enable them to remove from one bank to another without flying. Small crabs, fiddlers, and sea-worms, are also caught by it, the shells of which in a broken state I have found in its gizzard in greater or less quantity. Frequently, while on wet sea-beaches, it pats the sand, to force out the insects; and in one instance I saw an individual run from the water to the dry sand, with a small flounder in its bill, which it afterwards devoured.

This bird forms no regular nest, but is contented with scratching the dry sand above high-water mark, so as to form a slight hollow, in which it deposits its eggs. On the coast of Labrador, and in the Bay of Fundy, it lays its eggs on the bare rock. When the eggs are on sand, it seldom sits on them during the heat of the sun; but in Labrador, it was found sitting as closely as any other bird. Here, then, is another instance of the extraordinary difference of habit in the same bird under different circumstances. It struck me so much that had I not procured a specimen in Labrador, and another in our Middle Districts, during the breeding season, and found them on the closest examination to be the same, I should perhaps have thought the birds different. Everywhere, however, I observed that this bird is fond of places covered with broken shells and drifted sea-weeds or grasses, as a place of security for its eggs, and where, in fact, it is no very easy matter to discover them. The eggs are two or three, measure two inches and one-eighth in length, by an inch and a half in breadth, and are of the form of those of a common hen. They are of a pale cream colour, spotted with irregular marks of brownish-black, and others of a paler tint, pretty equally dispersed all over. The birds, even when not sitting on them, are so very anxious about them, that on the least appearance of an enemy, they scream out loudly, and if you approach the nest, fly over and around you, although always at a considerable distance. When you meet with the young, which run as soon as they are hatched, the old birds manifest the greatest anxiety. They run before you, or fly around you, with great swiftness, and emit peculiar notes, which at once induce their little ones to squat among the sand and broken shells, where, on account of their dull greyish-colour, it is very difficult to see them unless you pass within a foot or two of them, when they run off emitting a plaintive note, which renders the parents doubly angry. Their shape is now almost round, and the streaks of their back and rump, as well as the curved points of their bills, might induce you to believe them to be any thing but the young of an Oyster-Catcher. I have caught some, which I thought were more than a month old, and yet were unable to fly, although full feathered. They appeared weakened by their fatness, and were overtaken by running after them on the sands. There were no parent birds near or in sight of them; yet I much doubt if they procured their own food at this period, and have more reason to believe that, like some other species of birds, they were visited and supplied with food at particular hours of the day or of the night, as is the case with Herons and Ibises, for the Oyster-Catcher is scarcely nocturnal.

By the beginning of October these birds return to the south. I saw them at Labrador until the 11th of August, but cannot say at what period they leave that country. When wounded while wading or on the shore, they make for the water, on which they float buoyantly and move with ease.

The flight of the American Oyster-catcher is powerful, swift, elegant at times, and greatly protracted. While they are on wing, their beauties are as effectually displayed as those of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker of our woods, the colours of which are somewhat similar. The transparent white of their wings contrasts with their jetty tips, and is enriched by the coral hue of the bill, while the beautiful white of their lower parts has a very pleasing effect. Their loud cries, too, of wheep, wheep, wheeop, which sound in your ears, are quite different from any you have heard; and as they perform their various evolutions, all charming in themselves, you cannot, if unacquainted with the bird, refrain from asking what it is? Now wheeling with wonderful impetuosity, they pass within a hundred yards of you, and suddenly checking their flight return, not low over the waters as before, but high in the air. Again, they form their ranks in a broad front, and again, as if suddenly alarmed by the report of a distant gun, they close pell-mell, and dip towards the sands or the waters. Shoot one at such a moment, and you may expect to kill another; but as this is done, the wary birds, as if suddenly become aware of your intentions, form themselves into a straggling line, and before a minute has elapsed, far beyond reach, and fading on the view, are the remaining Oyster-catchers.

The gullet of this species is capable of being considerably distended. When your finger is introduced into it, it passes with ease into a sort of crop, where the food is apparently prepared before entering the gizzard, which is rather muscular. How this bird disposes of the hard particles of shells, pebbles, and other matters, with which its food is mixed, is beyond my comprehension, and one which I gladly leave for your solution. Their flesh is dark, tough, and unfit for eating, unless in cases of extreme necessity.

The females and young are dark olive-brown above, like the males, but of a browner shade. I have represented a male bird. I have never met with the European Oyster-catcher, Hæmatopus Ostralegus, in any part of the United States, and, although I cannot of course aver that it does not occur there, I believe that the American or Mantled Oyster-catcher has been confounded with it by Wilson and others. Indeed, the figure given by Wilson resembles that of the European bird, but his description of the female and young almost agrees with the present species, the dimensions also being nearly the same.

Hæmatopus palliatus, Temm. Man. d’Ornith. part ii. p. 532.

Mantled Oyster-catcher, Hæmatopus palliatus, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 15.

Plate CCXXIII. Male in June.

Bill long, slender but strong, straight, deeper than broad at the base, towards the end extremely compressed, terminating in a very thin wedge-shaped point. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at the base straight and slightly sloping, convex beyond the nostrils, then straight and sloping to the point, the ridge broad and flattened as far as the prominence, afterwards extremely narrow, the sides sloping at the base, perpendicular towards the end, the edges rather sharp. Nasal groove basal, long; nostrils basal, in the middle of the groove, linear, direct, placed nearer the margin than the dorsal line, pervious. Lower mandible straight, the dorsal line at the base sloping upwards, at one-third of the length of the bill bulging, then straightish and slightly ascending, the tip narrower than that of the upper mandible, the sides at the base sloping upwards, and having a shallow groove, towards the end becoming perpendicular. The bill differs from that of the Hæmatopus Ostralegus in being much deeper at the bulging part, much more attenuated towards the point, and proportionally longer.

Head of moderate size, oblong, the forehead rounded. Neck rather long. Body stout, compact, deeper than broad. Wings long. Feet of moderate length, rather stout; tibia bare for a fourth of its length, and, like the slightly compressed tarsus, covered all round with hexagonal scales; toes rather short and fleshy, the hind toe wanting, the second a little shorter than the fourth, the third much longer, all scaly at the base above, scutellate towards the end, flattened and broad beneath, with thick margins, which are covered with prominent thick scales, and connected at the base by short webs of which the outer is longer; claws small, blunt, rather compressed, that of the middle toe largest, and with a dilated thin inner edge.

Plumage of the head and neck short, blended, of the back compact, and slightly glossed, of the lower parts close and rather blended, the feathers in general incurved, broad, and rounded. Wings long, acute; primaries rather narrow and tapering, the first longest, the second slightly shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries broad and rounded, the inner much elongated and tapering. Tail short, rounded of twelve rather broad, rounded feathers.

Bill vermilion, lighter at the base. Edges of eyelids vermilion; iris bright yellow. Feet very pale flesh-colour; claws brownish-black. Head and neck dull black tinged with bluish-grey; lower eyelid white; the bases of the feathers on the chin white. The general colour of the upper parts is light greyish-brown, tinged with olive, and in certain lights with faint reddish-purple reflections; the edge of the wing, the tips of the secondary coverts, the secondary quills, excepting the inner elongated ones, pure white; as are the breast, sides, under wing-coverts, abdomen, sides of the rump, the upper and the lower tail-coverts. Basal half of the tail white, the rest greyish-brown, like the back.

Length to end of tail 17 1/2, to end of claws 19 1/2; wing from flexure 10 1/2, tail 4 1/4; extent of wings 36; bill along the back 3 5/8; along the edge 3 7/8; bill at the base 9/12, at the deepest part in the middle 8/12; naked part of tibia 1; tarsus 2 1/4; middle toe 1 8/12, its claw 3 1 /2 / 12 . Weight 1 lb. 4 1/2 oz.

The bill varies considerably in length and depth. Individuals vary in length from 17 to 18 inches.

The Female is precisely similar to the male.

THE KITTIWAKE GULL.

Larus tridactylus, Lath.
PLATE CCXXIV. Adult in Summer, and Young in Winter.

This beautiful Gull ranges, during the autumnal and winter months, along the whole of our extensive coasts. I have procured it from the mouth of the Mississippi to the coast of Maine, and have traced it from the latter district to Labrador. Yet I never saw it on any of our great lakes or rivers, nor in any part of the interior. From New York to Eastport it is extremely abundant, and many breed on the Island of Grand Manan, off the entrance of the Bay of Fundy.

As we approached the famous Gannet Rock of the Gulf of St Lawrence, the wind suddenly rose to a gale; but as I was exceedingly anxious that a landing should be effected on the island, every exertion was made to enable me to accomplish my purpose. The whale boat was manned. Thomas Lincoln and my son leaped into it, accompanied by young Cooledge. Urged by strong pulls, the buoyant boat advanced towards the grim rock. For nearly an hour it became hidden from my sight; but now and then the report of a gun brought intimation that all was as yet safe; and at length I had the great pleasure of seeing it advancing towards the Ripley, which stood off and on, shivering as it were under the heavy blast. My eye fixed to the telescope, watched every movement of the boat, as with fear I saw it tossed from billow to billow, this moment a glimpse of her keel appearing over the edge of a wave, the next a foot of her stem only seeming to float on the waters. “Pull steadily on, my good lads,” at last came on my ear, when, by a heavy surge, the floating shell was driven back some twenty yards, as I thought, and the wave, foaming with wrath, broke over her. Breathless and exhausted, the crew at length came within reach of a line, as the boat was dangerously plunging, when by good luck the rope was thrown across her, and in a few moments she lay snug under our lee. How happy was I when I again saw my son, my young companions, and the sailors, on the deck of the Ripley. Quickly was the whaler hauled on board, and with joy we saw our vessel fly off like a Kittiwake before the gale.

When the anxiety was over, inquiries were made as to the success of the adventurous party. Several nests of the Kittiwake and many of its eggs had been brought safe on board. Notes had been taken on the spot, and the result of the expedition was as follows:—The nests were found placed on some ledge of the huge rock, so small as barely to admit their breadth, which was about a foot. They were placed where no other bird than the Guillemot would have ventured to drop its egg, or the Raven to fix his nest. Yet on that narrow platform the Kittiwake sat on its three eggs, as unconcerned as if in a meadow. The nests were altogether composed of sea-weeds called “eel-grass,” and coarse grasses, probably procured on the top of the rock, or stolen from the nest of some unwary Solan Goose. Their inner surface was quite flat, although some of the nests were many inches in thickness, and looked as if they had been increased in bulk year after year. The sitting birds remained on their eggs with uncommon pertinacity, seldom indeed flying off, but merely moving aside. The male birds, or those that had no eggs, on the contrary, were extremely clamorous, flew around the party in great concern, and shewed much courage. The eggs are of a light olive-green colour, marked with numerous irregular spots of dark brown. Their average length is two inches and a quarter, their greatest breadth one inch and seven-eighths. No other species of Gull was seen about the rock; and indeed I have regularly observed that each species of this genus breeds far apart, although at all other seasons it may associate with others.

The young remain a considerable time in the nest or about it, when room is afforded. Their bills and feet are now quite black, the eye dark, and they do not change these colours until the second spring after their birth, when the bill is dull yellow, the legs and feet of a greenish flesh-colour, and these parts gradually improve in their tints until they acquire the appearance represented in the plate. This species raises only one brood in the season, and old and young leave the coast of Labrador at the first appearance of winter, or when the Ivory Gull reaches that country. This, however, I know only from hearsay, having received the information from a settler at Bras d’Or, who has lived there many years, and must know something of both species, as he was in the habit of salting young Kittiwakes for winter provisions, along with those of other species, and of shooting the Ivory Gull when it arrived over his harbour in the month of December.

The Kittiwake is on land the most awkward of its tribe; and, although it walks often on the rocks, its gait manifests a waddling gaucherie; but on the water, or in the air, few birds surpass it in buoyancy, grace, and ease of motion. Bearing up against the heaviest gale, it passes from one trough of the sea to another, as if anxious to rest for an instant under the lee of the billows; yet as these are seen to rear their curling crests, the Gull is already several feet above them, and preparing to plunge into the next hollow. While in our harbour, and during fine weather, they seemed to play with their companions of other species. Now with a spiral curve, they descend toward the water, support themselves by beats of their wings, decline their heads, and pick up a young herring or some bit of garbage, when away they fly, chased perhaps by several others anxious to rob them of the prize. Noon has arrived. High above the mast-head of our tallest man-of-war, the Kittiwakes float gracefully in wide circles, until all, as if fatigued, sail downward again with common accord towards the transparent deep, and, alighting close to each other, seem to ride safely at anchor. There they now occupy themselves in cleaning and arranging their beautiful plumage.

The food of this species consists of small fish, sea insects, and small bivalves, most of which they procure while on wing, even those left dry by the tide. Unlike the larger species, they do not take up shell-fish to break them by letting them fall on the rocks; at least I never saw them do so. Their principal enemies are different species of Lestris, especially that beautiful one named the L. parasiticus. This tormentor follows the Kittiwake to the very waters around the Gulf of Florida during the winter. There with astonishing swiftness, and an audacity scarcely to be surpassed, it gives chase to the Gull, overtakes it, and forces it to alight on the water, or to disgorge the fish which it has just swallowed.

The two represented in the plate were drawn at Boston, at the approach of spring, when the old birds had already assumed the pure white of the head. This species was so abundant on several of the islands of the Bay of Boston, that several basketfuls of them were procured in the course of a few excursions. When one fell to the water, the rest would hover about and around the boat, until many were shot from a flock. The case was the same, while we were in some of the harbours of Labrador.

Larus tridactylus, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 817.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 359.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 423.

Kittiwake Gull, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 298.

Adult in Summer. CCXXIV. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, strong, nearly straight, compressed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight and slightly declinate, until towards the end, when it is decurved, the ridge convex, the sides slightly convex, the edges a little inflected, straight, towards the end declinate and arched, the tip rather obtuse. Nasal groove narrow, rather long; nostril in its fore part, lateral, longitudinal, linear, wider anteriorly, open, and pervious. Lower mandible with a slight prominence at the end of the angle, which is long and narrow, the dorsal line then nearly straight and ascending, the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected.

Head rather large, oblong, anteriorly compressed. Neck of moderate length. Body rather full. Wings long. Feet of moderate length rather strong; tibia bare below; tarsus somewhat compressed, covered before and behind with numerous broad scutella, the sides reticulated; hind toe rudimentary, with a minute knob in place of the claw; the fore toes rather long and slender, the fourth longer than the second, all scutellate above, and connected by reticulated entire membranes, the lateral toes margined externally with a narrow membrane. Claws small, compressed, slightly arched, rather obtuse.

The plumage in general is close, elastic, very soft and blended, on the back somewhat compact. Wings very long, rather broad, acute, the first quill longest, the other primaries rapidly graduated; secondaries broad and rounded, the inner elongated and narrow. Tail of moderate length, even, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill pale greenish-yellow. Edges of eyelids crimson; iris reddish-brown. Feet black. The head, neck, rump, tail, and lower parts generally are pure white. The back and upper surface of the wings light pearl-grey. The first five quills are black at the end, the first on its outer web also, the fifth with a small white tip, the tips of all the other quills more or less white.

Length to end of tail 18 inches, to end of wings 20, to end of claws 17; extent of wings 36 1/2; wing from flexure 12, tail 7; bill along the back 1 1/2, along the edge of lower mandible 2 2/12; tarsus 1 7/12; middle toe its claw 4/12. Weight 1 1/2 lb.

Young bird in January. Plate CCXXIV. Fig. 2.

Bill and feet black. Edges of eyelids and iris as in the adult. The hind head and neck are bluish-grey, and before the eye there is a semilunar blackish mark, the tips of the auriculars also dark grey. Forehead, sides of the head, throat, and lower parts, white, as is the rump. Tail white, with a broad terminal band of black, the outer feather having only a spot on the inner web. The mantle is bluish-grey, but a broad band of black crosses the lower part of the hind neck, and the larger wing-coverts are of the same colour towards the end. The primary quills are black, more or less margined with white internally.

Length to end of tail 17 inches, to end of wings 19, to end of claws 17; extent of wings 36 5/12. Weight 14 1/2 oz.

THE KILDEER PLOVER.

Charadrius vociferus, Wils.
PLATE CCXV. Male and Female.

Reader, suppose yourself wandering over some extensive prairie, far beyond the western shores of the Mississippi. While your wearied limbs and drooping spirits remind you of the necessity of repose and food, you see the moon’s silvery rays glitter on the dews that have already clothed the tall grass around you. Your footsteps, be they ever so light, strike the ear of the watchful Kildeer, who, with a velocity scarcely surpassed by that of any other bird, comes up, and is now passing and repassing swiftly around you. His clear notes indicate his alarm, and seem to demand why you are there. To see him is now impossible, for a cloud has shrouded the moon; but on your left and right, before and behind, his continued vociferations intimate how glad he would be to see you depart from his beloved hunting-grounds. Nay, be not surprised if he should follow you until his eyes, meeting the glaring light of a woodsman traveller, he will wheel off and bid you adieu.

The Kildeer’s large eyes seem to be given it to enable it to feed by night as well as by day. At any time after the breeding season, this species moves in loose flocks, seldom exceeding ten or fifteen individuals, which disperse over the space of an acre or two of ground. Yet some one of them always acts as a sentinel, for standing erect to the full stretch of its legs, it carefully watches all the moving objects around, as far as its eye can reach. Cows, horses, or sheep are none of its enemies, and among them it will seek for food; but let a man, or a dog, or any other animal bent on destruction, shew himself, and that instant the bird runs swiftly with a querulous note, and should any of these his enemies evince the least disposition to molest it, its beautiful wings and tail are spread, and away it goes, cheerily calling to its companions to follow.

The Kildeer is by most people called a “noisy bird and restless.” Now to me it is any thing but this, unless indeed when it is disturbed by the approach or appearance of its enemies, more particularly man, of whom indeed few wild birds are fond. Watch them from under some cover that completely conceals you, and you will see them peaceably and silently follow their avocations for hours. In this respect the Kildeer resembles the Lapwing of Europe, which is also called a restless and noisy bird, because men and dogs are ever in pursuit of the poor thing, which after all its vigilance often falls a prey to the sportsman, who condemns it merely because it endeavours to draw him from its nest or young. During winter, when undisturbed, the Kildeer is in fact an unusually silent bird. In Louisiana, where it breeds and resides at all seasons, it has obtained the name of “Piallard,” so strongly rooted are old prejudices.

The Kildeer, or more properly “Kildee,” so named on account of its note, which may be imitated by the syllables kildee, kildee, dee, dee, dee, appear in much greater numbers in the interior than along the coast. Few are seen in the State of Maine; none, I believe, in Nova Scotia, any more than in Newfoundland or Labrador. Inland, however, these birds remove to a great distance north. Unless during winter, in fact, this species is not wont to approach the shores of the sea, but prefers the newly ploughed fields, the banks of clear rivers, or the elevated worn-out grounds of the interior. Few winter to the east of Boston, while during the cold season they abound in the Southern States, although thousands spend the most rigorous months in the Western Country. In the Floridas, Georgia, and South Carolina, you find them dispersed through the sugar, cotton and rice fields; and now they are so gentle and so silent, that you can hardly conceive why they should be called noisy birds. Around the pools, upon the marshes, and along the oyster-beds at low tides, as well as on the extensive mud-flats, you will then meet with them diligently searching for food, and not neglecting to watch you with distrust. Even in the corn-fields and in company with Doves and Grakles, or by the side of some strolling Partridge, you may now and then spy the Kildeer. At this period I have sometimes got so near to it that I could clearly see the pale red margin of its beautiful eye. The bird would perhaps run a few steps, when suddenly checking its course, it would stand still, erect and rigid. Should I level my gun in jest, he would that instant fly off low over the ground, removing to the distance of a hundred yards, alight running as it were, advance twenty or thirty steps more, and then stand still. I would now again approach it as before. Never try it the third time, Reader, the Kildeer will denounce you as an enemy. It will stretch its wings, fly across a river or field, and leave you to amuse yourself as you may. Many a time have I been thus treated.

The flight of the Kildeer is strong and rapid, and is at times protracted to a great distance. It skims quite low over the ground, or plays at a great height in the air, particularly during the love season, when you may see these birds performing all sorts of evolutions on wing. On the ground their speed is such that it has become proverbial, and to “run like a Kildee,” is to move with the utmost possible agility. Their ordinary posture when standing, might be called stiff, were they not so beautiful in form and colouring. When pursued over a large space, they are able to lead you from one spot to another more than twenty times in the course of an hour; and the more you follow them, the more shy do they become, until wearied and hungry, as the fox said of the grapes, you will probably begin to think them poor and insipid after all.

Now you see the Kildee wading in the water, and observe how it splashes it about. Down it lays itself, and with fluttering wings, seems to enjoy the sight of the drops trickling over its silky back. Now dripping and almost soaked to the skin, it retires to the warm earth, to dry its plumage and clear it of insects.

This species breeds in Louisiana about the beginning of April; in the Middle States a full month later, as well as in the Western Country and farther north. Not one, however, has ever been found breeding in the low lands of South Carolina, although these birds remain there until the beginning of May. The nests are various, some being merely a hollow scooped in the bare ground, while at other times the Kildee searches for a place on the edge of a pond, forms a hollow, and constructs a nest of grass, at the foot of a thick bunch of plants. Now and then small pebbles and fragments of shells are raised in the form of a rim around the eggs, on which the sitting bird is seen as if elevated two or three inches. Wilson saw nests of this kind; so have I; and the circumstance appeared as strange to me as that of the birds not breeding in the low lands of the Carolinas. The eggs are almost always four, pyriform, well pointed at the small end, an inch and five-eighths in length, an inch and one eighth in diameter at the broadest part, and of a deep cream colour, pretty generally marked all over with small irregular blotches of purplish-brown and black. The young, as soon as hatched, run about. At this period, or during incubation, the parents, who sit alternately on the eggs, never leaving them to the heat of the sun, are extremely clamorous at sight of an enemy. The female droops her wings, emits her plaintive notes, and endeavours by every means she can devise to draw you from the nest or young. The male dashes over you in the air, in the manner of the European Lapwing, and vociferates all the remonstrances of an angry parent whose family is endangered. If you cannot find pity for the poor birds at such a time, you may take up their eggs and see their distress; but if you be at all so tender-hearted as I would wish you to be, it will be quite unnecessary for me to recommend mercy!

Few Plovers with which I am acquainted, acquire their full plumage sooner than this species. Before December you can observe no difference between the young birds and their parents; nay by this time, like most other species, the former are as fully able to fly as at any other period.

While I was residing in Pennsylvania, the son of my tenant the miller was in the habit of catching newly-hatched birds of every sort, to bait his fish-hooks. I had rather peremptorily remonstrated against this barbarous practice, although, I believe, without effect. One morning I met him returning from the shores of the Perkioming Creek, with his hat full of young Kildees. He endeavoured to avoid me, but I made directly up to him, peeped into his hat and saw the birds. On this I begged of him to go back and restore the poor things to their parents, which he reluctantly did. Never had I felt more happy than I did when I saw the young Plovers run off and hide under cover of the stones.

The Kildee seems to be remarkably attached to certain localities at particular periods. Whilst at General Hernandez’s in East Florida, I accidentally wounded one near a barn on the plantation of my accomplished host. Yet it returned to the same spot for the ten days that I remained there, although it always flew off when I approached it.

The food of this species consists of earth-worms, grass-hoppers, crickets, and coleopterous insects, as well as small crustacea, whether of salt or fresh water, and snails. Now and then they may be seen thrusting their bills into the mud about oysters, in search of some other food. During autumn, they run about the old fields and catch an insect which the Blue Bird has been watching with anxious care from the top of a withering mullein stalk. They run briskly after the ploughman, to pick up the worms that have been turned out of their burrows. Now standing on the grassy meadow, after a shower, you see them patting the moist ground, to force out its inhabitants. During winter, you meet with them on elevated ground, or along the margins of the rivers; but wherever you observe one about to pick up its food, you clearly see its body moving in a see-saw manner on the joints of the legs, until the former being so placed that the bill can reach the ground, the object is seized, and the usual horizontal position is resumed.

The flesh of the Kildee is generally indifferent, unless in early autumn, when the young birds of that season are fat, juicy and tender. At all seasons of the year, the Kildee is however shot by inexperienced sportsmen, and many of these birds are offered for sale in our markets. Little difference is observed at any period in the plumage of the adult birds.

Charadrius vociferus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 253.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 742.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 297.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 368.

Kildeer Plover, Charadrius vociferus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 73. pl. 59. fig. 6.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 22.

Adult Male in summer. Plate CCXXV. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, straight, somewhat cylindrical. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight for two-thirds of its length, then bulging a little and curving to the tip, which is rather acute, the sides flat and sloping at the base, convex towards the end, where the edges are sharp and inclinate. Nasal groove extended along two-thirds of the mandible, filled with a bare membrane; nostrils basal, linear, in the lower part of the membrane, open, and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle long, narrow, but rounded, the sides at the base sloping outwards and flat, the dorsal line ascending and slightly convex, the edges sharp and involute towards the narrow tip.

Head of moderate size, oblong, rather compressed, the forehead rounded. Eyes large. Neck rather short. Body ovate, rather slender. Wings long. Feet long, slender; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus rather compressed, covered all round with reticulated hexagonal scales; toes slender; the hind toe wanting; third or middle toe longest, outer toe considerably longer than inner, all scutellate above and marginate, the outer connected with the middle toe by a membrane as far as the second joint; claws small, compressed, slender but obtuse at the end, the inner edge of the middle claw slightly dilated.

Plumage soft and blended; the feathers rounded, those of the back somewhat distinct. Wings long and pointed; primary quills tapering, the first longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; inner secondaries tapering and elongated, so as nearly to equal the longest primaries. Tail rather long, much rounded or graduated, of twelve rather broad rounded feathers.

Bill black. Edges of eyelids bright red; iris dark brown. Feet light greyish-blue, the hind part of the tarsus pale flesh colour. Upper part of the head, the back, the smaller wing-coverts, and the secondary quills, yellowish-brown. Lower parts white. A brown bar over the lower part of the forehead, and passing under the eye to the occiput; over this a white band on the forehead, surmounted by a brownish-black band between the eyes; behind the eyes also a short white band, ending in light red. The middle of the neck is encircled with a broad brownish-black collar, and on its lower part anteriorly between the wings is a narrower band of the same colour. Primaries brownish-black, each with a white mark, linear on the outer, enlarging on the inner quills. Secondaries, excepting the inner, white, but most of them with a large patch of blackish-brown towards the end; their tips and those of most of the primaries white, as are those of the primary and secondary coverts. Rump and upper tail-coverts bright yellowish-red. Tail-feathers of the same colour at the base, the middle feathers brown, all with a broad subterminal band of black, the tips white, those of the four middle feathers pale reddish; the outer feather on each side white, with three black bands on the inner web.

Length to end of tail 10 inches, to end of wings 9, to end of claws 9 1/2; extent of wings 20; wing from flexure 6 1/2; tail 4; bill along the back 10/12, along the edge 11 1/2/12; tarsus 1 5/12; middle toe 11/12, its claw 3/12. Weight 5 3/4 ounces.

Adult Female in summer. Plate CCXXV. Fig. 2.

The Female resembles the Male.

THE WHITE PERCH AND ITS FAVORITE BAIT.

No sooner have the overflowing waters of early spring subsided within their banks, and the temperature become pleasant, than the trees of our woods are seen to unfold their buds and blossoms, and the White Perch, which during the winter has lived in the ocean, rushes up our streams, to seek the well-known haunts in which it last year deposited its spawn. With unabating vigour it ascends the turbulent current of the Mississippi, of which, however, the waters are too muddy to suit its habits; and glad no doubt is it to enter one of the numberless tributaries whose limpid waters are poured into the mighty river. Of these subsidiary waters the Ohio is one in whose pure stream the White Perch seems to delight; and towards its head springs the fish advances in numerous shoals, following the banks with easy progress. Over many a pebbly or gravelly bar does it seek its food. Here the crawling mussel it crunches and devours; there, with the speed of an arrow, it darts upon the minnow; again, at the edge of a shelving rock, or by the side of a stone, it secures a crayfish. No impure food will “the Growler” touch; therefore, reader, never make use of such to allure it, otherwise not only will your time be lost, but you will not enjoy the gratification of tasting this delicious fish. Should you have no experience in fishing for perch, I would recommend to you to watch the men you see on that shore, for they are excellent anglers.

Smooth are the waters, clear is the sky, and gently does the stream move,—perhaps its velocity does not exceed a mile in the hour. Silence reigns around you. See, each fisher has a basket or calabash, containing many a live cray; and each line, as thick as a crow quill, measures scarce a furlong. At one end two perch hooks are so fastened that they cannot interfere with each other. A few inches below the reaching point of the farthest hook, the sinker, perhaps a quarter of a pound in weight, having a hole bored through its length, is passed upon the line, and there secured by a stout knot at its lower extremity. The other end of the line is fastened ashore. The tackle, you observe, is carefully coiled on the sand at the fisher’s feet. Now on each hook he fixes a cray-fish, piercing the shell beneath the tail, and forcing the keen weapon to reach the very head of the suffering creature, while all its legs are left at liberty to move. Now, each man, holding his line a yard or so from the hooks, whirls it several times overhead, and sends it off to its full length directly across the stream. No sooner has it reached the gravelly bed, than gently urged by the current, it rolls over and over, until it is nearly in the line of the water. Before this, however, I see that several of the men have had a bite, and that by a short jerk they have hooked the fish. Hand over hand they haul in their lines. Poor perch, it is useless labour for thee to flounce and splash in that manner, for no pity will be shewn thee, and thou shalt be dashed on the sand, and left there to quiver in the agonies of death. The lines are within a few yards of being in. I see the fish gasping on its side. Ah! there are two on this line, both good; on most of the others there is one; but I see some of the lines have been robbed by some cunning inhabitant of the water. What beautiful fishes these perches are! so silvery beneath, so deeply coloured above! What a fine eye too! But, friend, I cannot endure their gaspings. Pray put them on this short line, and place them in the water beside you, until you prepare to go home. In a few hours each fisher has obtained as many as he wishes. He rolls up his line, fastens five or six perches on each side of his saddle, mounts his horse, and merrily wends his way.

In this manner the White Perch is caught along the sandy banks of the Ohio, from its mouth to its source. In many parts above Louisville some fishers prefer using the trot-line, which, however, ought to be placed upon, or very little above, the bottom of the stream. When this kind of line is employed, its hooks are more frequently baited with mussels than with cray-fish, the latter being perhaps not so easily procured there as farther down the stream. Great numbers of perches are also caught in seines, especially during a transient rise of the water. Few persons fish for them with the pole, as they generally prefer following the edges of the sandbars next to deep water. Like all others of its tribe, the White Perch is fond of depositing its spawn on gravelly or sandy beds, but rarely at a depth of less than four or five feet. These beds are round, and have an elevated margin formed of the sand removed from their centre, which is scooped out for two or three inches. The fish, although it generally remains for some days over its treasure, is by no means so careful of it as the little sunny, but starts off at the least appearance of danger. I have more than once taken considerable pleasure in floating over their beds, when the water was sufficiently clear to admit of my seeing both the fish and its place of deposit; but I observed that if the sun was shining, the very sight of the boat’s shadow drove the perches away. I am of opinion that most of them return to the sea about the beginning of November; but of this I am not certain.

The usual length of this fish, which on the Ohio is called the White Perch, and in the State of New York the Growler, is from fifteen to twenty inches. I have, however, seen some considerably larger. The weight varies from a pound and a half to four, and even six pounds. For the first six weeks of their arrival in fresh water streams they are in season; the flesh is then white and firm, and affords excellent eating; but during the heats of summer, they become poor, and are seldom very good. Now and then, in the latter days of September, I have eaten some that tasted as well as in spring. One of the most remarkable habits of this fish is that from which it has received the name of Growler. When poised in the water, close to the bottom of a boat, it emits a rough croaking noise, somewhat resembling a groan. Whenever this sound is heard under a boat, if the least disturbance is made by knocking on the gunwale or bottom, it at once ceases; but is renewed when every thing is quiet. It is seldom heard, however, unless in fine calm weather.

The White Perch bites at the hook with considerable care, and very frequently takes off the bait without being caught. Indeed, it requires a good deal of dexterity to hook it, for if this is not done the first time it touches the bait, you rarely succeed afterwards; and I have seen young hands at the game, who, in the course of a morning, seldom caught more than one or two, although they lost perhaps twenty crays. But, now that I have afforded you some information respecting the habits of the White Perch, allow me to say a few words on the subject of its favourite bait.

The Cray is certainly not a fish, although usually so styled; but as every one is acquainted with its form and nature, I shall not inflict on you any disquisition regarding it. It is a handsome crustaceous animal certainly, and its whole tribe I consider as dainties of the first order. To me “Ecrevisses,” whether of fresh or of salt water, stripped of their coats, and blended into a soup or a “gombo,” have always been most welcome. Boiled or roasted too, they are excellent in my estimation, and mayhap in yours. The Crayfish, of which I here more particularly speak—for I shall not deprive them of their caudal appendage, lest, like a basha without his tail, they might seem of less consequence—are found most abundantly swimming, crawling at the bottom or on shore, or working at their muddy burrows, in all the southern parts of the Union. If I mistake not, we have two species at least, one more an inhabitant of rocky streamlets than the other, and that one by far the best, though the other is good too. Both species swim by means of rapid strokes of the tail, which propel them backwards to a considerable distance at each repetition. All that I regret concerning these animals is, that they are absolutely little aquatic vultures—or, if you please, crustacea with vulturine habits—for they feed on every thing impure that comes in their way, when they cannot obtain fresh aliment. However this may be, the Crays somehow fall in with this sort of food, and any person may catch as many as he may wish, by fastening a piece of flesh to a line, allowing it to remain under water for a while, and drawing it up with care, when, with the aid of a hand-net, he may bring it ashore with a few! But although this is a good method of procuring Cray-fish, it answers only for those that live in running waters. The form of these is delicate, their colour a light olive, and their motions in the water are very lively. The others are larger, of a dark greenish-brown, less active in the water than on land, although they are most truly amphibious. The first conceal themselves beneath shelving rocks, stones, or water-plants; the others form a deep burrow in the damp earth, depositing the materials drawn up, as a man would do in digging a well. The manner in which they dispose of the mud you may see by glancing at the plate of the White Ibis, in my third volume of Illustrations, where also you will find a tolerable portrait of one of these creatures.

According to the nature of the ground, the burrows of this Crayfish are more or less deep. Indeed, this also depends partly on the increasing dryness of the soil, when, influenced by the heat of summer, as well as on the texture of the substratum. Thus, in some places, where the Cray can reach the water after working a few inches, it rests contented during the day, but crawls out for food at night. Should it, however, be left dry, it renews its labour; and thus while one burrow may be only five or six inches deep, another may be two or three feet, and a third even more. They are easily procured when thus lodged in shallow holes; but when the burrow is deep, a thread is used, with a small piece of flesh fastened to it. The Cray eagerly seizes the bait, and is gently drawn up, and thrown to a distance, when he becomes an easy prey. You have read of the method used by the White Ibis in procuring Crays; and I leave you to judge whether the bird or the man is the best fisher. This species is most abundant round the borders of the stagnant lakes, bayous, or ponds of the Southern Districts; and I have seen them caught even in the streets of the suburbs of New Orleans, after a heavy shower. They become a great pest by perforating embankments of all sorts, and many are the maledictions that are uttered against them both by millers and planters, nay even by the overseers of the levees along the banks of the Mississippi. But they are curious creatures, formed no doubt for useful purposes, and as such they are worthy of your notice.

THE WHOOPING CRANE.

Grus americana, Temm.
PLATE CCXXVI. Male.

The variegated foliage of the woods indicates that the latter days of October have arrived; gloomy clouds spread over the heavens; the fierce blasts of the north, as if glad to escape from the dreary regions of their nativity, sport in dreadful revelry among the forests and glades. Showers of sleet and snow descend at intervals, and the careful husbandman gathers his flocks, to drive them to a place of shelter. The traveller gladly accepts the welcome of the forester, and as he seats himself by the blazing fire, looks with pleasure on the spinning wheels of the industrious inmates. The lumberer prepares to set out on his long voyage, the trapper seeks the retreats of the industrious beaver, and the red Indian is making arrangements for his winter hunts. The Ducks and Geese have already reached the waters of the western ponds; here a Swan or two is seen following in their train, and as the observer of nature stands watching the appearances and events of this season of change, he hears from on high the notes of the swiftly travelling but unseen Whooping Crane. Suddenly the turbid atmosphere clears, and now he can perceive the passing birds. Gradually they descend, dress their extended lines, and prepare to alight on the earth. With necks outstretched, and long bony legs extended behind, they proceed supported by wings white as the snow but tipped with jet, until arriving over the great savannah they wheel their circling flight, and slowly approach the ground, on which with half-closed wings, and outstretched feet they alight, running along for a few steps to break the force of their descent.

Reader, see the majestic bird shake its feathers, and again arrange them in order. Proud of its beautiful form, and prouder still of its power of flight, it stalks over the withering grasses with all the majesty of a gallant chief. With long and measured steps be moves along, his head erect, his eye glistening with delight. His great journey is accomplished, and being well acquainted with a country which has often been visited by him, he at once commences his winter avocations.

The Whooping Crane reaches the Western Country about the middle of October, or the beginning of November, in flocks of twenty or thirty individuals, sometimes of twice or thrice that number, the young by themselves, but closely followed by their parents. They spread from Illinois over Kentucky, and all the intermediate States, until they reach the Carolinas on the southern coast, the Floridas, Louisiana, and the countries bordering on Mexico, in all of which they spend the winter, seldom returning northward until about the middle of April, or towards the beginning of May. They are seen on the edges of large ponds supplied with rank herbage, on fields or savannahs, now in swampy woods, and again on extensive marshes. The interior of the country, and the neighbourhood of the sea shores, suit them equally well, so long as the temperature is sufficiently high. In the Middle States, it is very seldom indeed that they are seen; and to the eastward of these countries they are unknown; for all their migrations are performed far inland, and thus they leave and return to the northern retreats where, it is said, they breed and spend the summer. While migrating they appear to travel both by night and by day, and I have frequently heard them at the former, and seen them at the latter time, as they were proceeding toward their destination. Whether the weather be calm or tempestuous, it makes no difference to them, their power of flight being such as to render them regardless of the winds. Nay I have observed them urging their way during very heavy gales, shifting from high to low in the air with remarkable dexterity. The members of a flock sometimes arrange themselves in the form of an acute-angled triangle; sometimes they move in a long line; again they mingle together without order, or form an extended front; but in whatever manner they advance, each bird sounds his loud note in succession, and on all occasions of alarm these birds manifest the same habit. While with us they are also always met with in flocks. But now, Reader, allow me to refer to my journals, whence I shall extract some circumstances relative to this majestic bird, which I hope you will find not uninteresting.

Louisville, State of Kentucky, March 1810.—I had the gratification of taking Alexander Wilson to some ponds within a few miles of town, and of shewing him many birds of this species, of which he had not previously seen any other than stuffed specimens. I told him that the white birds were the adults, and that the grey ones were the young. Wilson, in his article on the Whooping Crane, has alluded to this, but, as on other occasions, has not informed his readers whence the information came.

Henderson, November 1810.—The Sand Hill Crane arrived at the Long Pond on the 28th of last month. I saw two flocks of young ones there, and one of adults on the Slim Pond. Both old and young immediately set to digging through the mud, the rains having scarcely begun to cover those places with water, for during summer they become almost dry. The birds work very assiduously with their bills, and succeed in uncovering the large roots of the great water-lily, which often run to a depth of two or three feet. Several cranes are seen in the same hole, tugging at roots and other substances, until they reach the object of their desire, which they greedily devour. While thus engaged, they are easily approached; for if their heads are bent down they cannot see you, and until they raise themselves again, to take notice of what may be going on around the place, you may advance so as to get within shot. While I watched them at this work, they were perfectly silent; and as I lay concealed behind a large cypress tree, within thirty paces of a flock, thus buried, as it were, in the great holes they had formed, so as to put me in mind of a parcel of hogs or bears at their wallowing spots, I could plainly see the colour of their eyes, which is brown in the young, and yellow in the adult. After observing them as long as I wished, I whistled, on which they all at once raised their heads to see what the matter might be. I had so fair an opportunity that I could not resist the temptation, especially as several of the birds had their necks so close together that I felt confident I must kill more than one of them. Accordingly, just as their last croaking notes were heard, and I saw them preparing to set to work again, I fired. Only two flew up, to my surprise. They came down the pond towards me, and my next shot brought them to the ground. On walking to the hole, I found that I had disabled seven in all. Those which were in different holes farther off, all flew away, uttering loud cries, and did not return that afternoon. In the course of a week these birds turned up the earth, and dug holes all over the dry parts of the ponds. As soon as heavy rains fill the pools, the Cranes abandon them, and resort to other places.

Natchez, November 1821.—The Sand-hill Cranes now resort to the fields, in which corn, pease, and sweet potatoes have been planted, as well as to the cotton plantations. They feed on the grains and pease, dig up the potatoes, which they devour with remarkable greediness; and in the wet fields seize on water insects, toads and frogs, but never, I believe, on fishes.

Bayou Sara, April 12. 1822.—The Sand-hill Cranes have left all the fields, and removed to the swamps and inner lakes. I saw some catching young bull-frogs, water-lizards, and water-snakes, as well as very small alligators. One struck at a young snapping turtle, which, however, escaped. The Wood Ibises and these birds do not agree together; the latter chase the former up to their bellies in the water.

April 16.—I saw nine beautiful adult birds apparently in perfect plumage. They were round a fallen log, about twenty yards from the water, all very busily occupied in killing a band of young alligators, which had probably endeavoured to save themselves from the attacks of the Cranes by crawling beneath the sides of the log. I shot at them without much effect, for, although I believe I wounded two of them, they all flew off. On going up to the log, I found several young alligators, measuring from seven to eight inches in length, apparently dead, with their heads sadly bruised as if by a powerful blow. This led me to think that they kill a number of animals before they feed upon them, as the Wood Ibis is wont to do. This afternoon I saw four of these young Cranes tearing up the ground in search of cray-fish. One caught a butterfly as it was fluttering near, and instantly swallowed it.

This species feeds only during the day. Besides the objects which I have already mentioned, it now and then swallows a mole or a meadow-mouse, and not unfrequently, I think, snakes of considerable length. I opened one that had a garter-snake, more than fifteen inches long, in its stomach.

The wariness of this species is so remarkable, that it takes all the cunning and care of an Indian hunter to approach it at times, especially in the case of an old bird. The acuteness of their sight and hearing is quite wonderful. If they perceive a man approaching, even at the distance of a quarter of a mile, they are sure to take to wing. Should you accidentally tread on a stick and break it, or suddenly cock your gun, all the birds in the flock raise their heads and emit a cry. Shut the gate of a field after you, and from that moment they all watch your motions. To attempt to crawl towards them, even among long grass, after such an intimation, would be useless; and unless you lie in wait for them, and be careful to maintain a perfect silence, or may have the cover of some large trees, heaps of brushwood, or fallen logs, you may as well stay at home. They generally see you long before you perceive them, and so long as they are aware that you have not observed them, they remain silent; but the moment that, by some inadvertency, you disclose to them your sense of their presence, some of them sound an alarm. For my part, Reader, I would as soon undertake to catch a deer by fair running, as to shoot a Sand-hill Crane that had observed me. Sometimes, indeed, towards the approach of spring, when they are ready to depart for their breeding grounds, the voice of one will startle and urge to flight all within a mile of the spot. When this happens, all the birds around join into a great flock, gradually rise in a spiral manner, ascend to a vast height, and sail off in a straight course.

When wounded, these birds cannot be approached without caution, as their powerful bill is capable of inflicting a severe wound. Knowing this as I do, I would counsel any sportsman not to leave his gun behind, while pursuing a wounded Crane. One afternoon in winter, as I was descending the Mississippi, on my way to Natchez, I saw several Cranes standing on a large sand-bar. The sight of these beautiful birds excited in me a desire to procure some of them. Accordingly, taking a rifle and some ammunition, I left the flat-bottomed boat in a canoe, and told the men to watch for me, as the current was rapid at that place, the river being there narrowed by the sand-bar. I soon paddled myself to the shore, and having observed, that, by good management, I might approach the Cranes under cover of a huge stranded tree, I landed opposite to it, drew up my canoe, and laying myself flat on the sand, crawled the best way I could, pushing my gun before me. On reaching the log, I cautiously raised my head opposite to a large branch, and saw the birds at a distance somewhat short of a hundred yards. I took, as I thought, an excellent aim, although my anxiety to shew the boatmen how good a marksman I was rendered it less sure than it might otherwise have been. I fired, when all the birds instantly flew off greatly alarmed, excepting one which leaped into the air, but immediately came down again, and walked leisurely away with a drooping pinion. As I rose on my feet, it saw me, I believe, for the first time, cried out lustily, and ran off with the speed of an ostrich. I left my rifle unloaded, and in great haste pursued the wounded bird, which doubtless would have escaped had it not made towards a pile of drift wood, where I overtook it. As I approached it, panting and almost exhausted, it immediately raised itself to the full stretch of its body, legs, and neck, ruffled its feathers, shook them, and advanced towards me with open bill, and eyes glancing with anger. I cannot tell you whether it was from feeling almost exhausted with the fatigue of the chase; but, however it was, I felt unwilling to encounter my antagonist, and keeping my eye on him, moved backwards. The farther I removed, the more he advanced, until at length I fairly turned my back to him, and took to my heels, retreating with fully more speed than I had pursued. He followed, and I was glad to reach the river, into which I plunged up to the neck, calling out to my boatmen, who came up as fast as they could. The Crane stood looking angrily on me all the while, immersed up to his belly in the water, and only a few yards distant, now and then making thrusts at me with his bill. There he stood until the people came up; and highly delighted they were with my situation. However, the battle was soon over, for, on landing, some of them struck the winged warrior on the neck with an oar, and we carried him on board.

While in the Floridas, I saw only a few of these birds alive, but many which had been shot by the Spaniards and Indians, for the sake of their flesh and beautiful feathers, of which latter they make fans and fly-brushes. None of these birds remain there during summer; and William Bartram, when speaking of this species, must have mistaken the Wood Ibis for it.

The young are considerably more numerous than the old white birds; and this circumstance has probably led to the belief among naturalists that the former constitute a distinct species, to which the name of Canada Crane, Grus canadensis, has been given. This, however, I hope, I shall be able to clear up to your satisfaction. In the mean time, I shall continue my remarks.

According to circumstances, this species roosts either on the ground or on high trees. In the latter case, they leave their feeding-ground about an hour before sun-set, and going off in silence, proceed towards the interior of high land forests, where they alight on the largest branches of lofty trees, six or seven settling on the same branch. For half an hour or so, they usually dress their plumage, standing erect: but afterwards they crouch in the manner of Wild Turkeys. In this situation they are sometimes shot by moonlight. Those which resort to plantations, situated in the vicinity of large marshes, covered with tall grasses, cat’s tails, and other plants, spend the night on some hillock, standing on one leg, the other being drawn under the body, whilst the head is thrust beneath the broad feathers of the shoulder. In returning towards the feeding grounds, they all emit their usual note, but in a very low undertone, leaving their roost at an earlier or later hour, according to the state of the weather. When it is cold and clear, they start very early; but when warm and rainy, not until late in the morning. Their motions toward night are determined by the same circumstances. They rise easily from the ground after running a few steps, fly low for thirty or forty yards, then rise in circles, crossing each other in their windings, like Vultures, Ibises, and some other birds. If startled or shot at, they utter loud and piercing cries. These cries, which I cannot compare to the sounds of any instrument known to me, I have heard at the distance of three miles, at the approach of spring, when the males were paying their addresses to the females, or fighting among themselves. They may be in some degree represented by the syllables kewrr, kewrr, kewrooh; and strange and uncouth as they are, they have always sounded delightful in my ear.

In December 1833, I sent my son to Spring Island, on the coast of Georgia, to which these birds are in the habit of resorting every winter. Mr Hammond, the proprietor of this island, treated him with all the hospitality for which the southern planters are celebrated. The Cranes, which were plentiful, resorted to the sweet potato fields, digging up their produce as expertly as a troop of negroes. They walked carefully over the little heaps, probed them in various parts in the manner of Woodcocks or Snipes, and whenever they hit upon a potato, removed the soil, took out the root, and devoured it in rather small pieces. In this manner they would search over the whole field, which was two miles in length, and rather more than a quarter of a mile in breadth, gleaning all the potatoes that had escaped the gatherers. They were so shy, however, that notwithstanding all the endeavours of my son, who is a good hand at getting in upon game, as well as a good shot, he only killed a young one, which was evidently of that year’s brood, it being yet almost reddish-brown, the long feathers of the rump just beginning to shew, and the head yet covered with hairlike feathers to the mandible, and merely shewing between them the wrinkled skin so conspicuous in the old birds. The specimen procured on Spring Island was carefully examined and described, and the skin is now in the British Museum in London. Its flesh was tender and juicy, of a colour resembling that of young venison, and afforded excellent eating. This I have always found to be the case with young birds of this species, so long as they are in their brown livery, and even when they have begun to be patched with white; but in old birds the flesh becomes very dark, tough and unfit for the table, although the Seminole Indians shoot them on all occasions for food.

In captivity the Whooping Crane becomes extremely gentle, and feeds freely on grain and other vegetable substances. A Mr Magwood, residing near Charleston, in South Carolina, kept one for some time feeding it on maize. It accidentally wounded one of its feet on the shell of an oyster, and, although the greatest care was taken of it, died after lingering some weeks. Having myself kept one alive, I will give you an account of its habits.

It was nearly full-grown when I obtained it, and its plumage was changing from greyish-brown to white. Its figure you will see in the plate to which this article refers. I received it as a present from Captain Clack of the United States Navy, commander of the Erie sloop of war. It had been wounded in the wing, on the coast of Florida, but the fractured limb had been amputated and soon healed. During a voyage of three months, it became very gentle, and was a great favourite with the sailors. I placed it in a yard, in company with a beautiful Snow Goose. This was at Boston. It was so gentle as to suffer me to caress it with the hand, and was extremely fond of searching for worms and grubs about the wood-pile, probing every hole it saw with as much care and dexterity as an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. It also watched with all the patience of a cat the motions of some mice which had burrows near the same spot, killed them with a single blow, and swallowed them entire, one after another, until they were extirpated. I fed it on corn and garbage from the kitchen, to which were added bits of bread and cheese, as well as some apples. It would pick up the straws intended to keep its feet from being soiled, and arrange them round its body, as if intent on forming a nest. For hours at a time, it would stand resting on one foot in a very graceful posture; but what appeared to me very curious was, that it had a favourite leg for this purpose; and in fact none of my family ever found it standing on the other, although it is probable that this happened in consequence of the mutilation of the wing, the leg employed being that of the injured side. The stump of its amputated wing appeared to be a constant source of trouble, particularly at the approach of the winter: it would dress the feathers about it, and cover it with so much care that I really felt for the poor fellow. When the weather became intensely cold, it regularly retired at the approach of night under a covered passage, where it spent the hours of darkness; but it always repaired to this place with marked reluctance, and never until all was quiet and nearly dark, and it came out, even when the snow lay deep on the ground, at the first appearance of day. Now and then it would take a run, extend its only wing, and, uttering a loud cry, leap several times in the air, as if anxious to return to its haunts. At other times it would look upwards, cry aloud as if calling to some acquaintance passing high in the air, and again use its ordinary note whenever its companion the Snow Goose sent forth her own signals. It seldom swallowed its food without first carrying it to the water, and dipping it several times, and now and then it would walk many yards for that express purpose. Although the winter was severe, the thermometer some mornings standing as low as 10°, the bird fattened and looked extremely well. So strong was the natural suspicion of this bird, that I frequently saw it approach some cabbage leaves with measured steps, look at each sideways before it would touch one of them, and after all, if it by accident tossed the leaf into the air when attempting to break it to pieces, it would run off as if some dreaded enemy were at hand.

The trachea of this bird, of which you will find a notice at [p. 213], confirms my opinion that the Canada Crane and the Whooping Crane are merely the same species in different states of plumage, or in other words, at different ages; and, in truth, the differences are not greater than those exhibited by many other birds, both aquatic and terrestrial. In illustration of this subject I might adduce Ibises, Herons, Divers, and Grebes; but this is quite unnecessary.

In reading the accounts given of the Canada Crane of authors, I find no description of its manner of breeding. In the Fauna Boreali-Americana of Mr Swainson and Dr Richardson, the eggs of both are described, and in Nuttall’s Manual those of the Whooping Crane also; but in these works the account given of the birds and of their eggs is such, that one might even, from comparing the descriptions, suppose them to be of the same species. I have never had the satisfaction of finding any of the breeding-places of the Whooping Crane; but I well know that many birds breed long before they have attained their full plumage. The supposed new species of Heron described under the name of Ardea Pealii, by my excellent friend Prince Charles Bonaparte, breeds as the White-headed Eagle sometimes does, the immature bird in a snow-white dress, the adult in purple and greyish-blue plumage. The young of Ardea cœrulea were for some time considered to form a distinct species, they being white also, then blue and white, and finally dark blue. But the most remarkable instance of change of plumage in the Waders is exhibited in the Scarlet Ibis. My humble opinion is, that unless in cases where birds are at first of one colour, and that colour remains ever after, little dependence can be placed on the tints of the plumage as a specific character.

On looking over my notes, I find that I have omitted to inform you that the extraordinary strength of the thighs, legs, and feet of the Whooping Crane, tends greatly to make it more terrestrial than the Herons; and that the great size of their nostrils, which so much resemble those of the Vultures, is well adapted to keep the inner parts of the organ from the damp earth and other matters with which they are so often in contact, while searching in the ground or mud for roots and other vegetable substances, on which the bird principally feeds. I am convinced also, that this species does not attain its full size or perfect plumage until it is four or five years old. The beauty of the plumage may be improved in brilliancy during the breeding-season by a greater brightness in the colour of the bill, as in the Booby Gannet and White Ibis, as well as in the redness of the fleshy parts of the head.

The measurements of the adult bird of my plate, drawn at New Orleans, in the month of April, were as follows:—Length from tip of bill to end of claws, 5 feet 5 inches; to end of tail, 4 feet 6 inches; the drooping feathers 1 foot beyond; alar extent 7 feet 8 inches; length of wing 22 inches; naked part of thigh 5 inches; tarsus 11 1/4 inches; length of middle toe 4 1/4, of its claw 3/4.

The measurements of the specimen kept at Boston:—Length from tip of bill to end of tail, 3 feet 9 inches; to end of claws, 4 feet 6 inches; tarsus 8 inches; naked part of thigh 3 1/2. The elongated inner secondaries equalled the tail. The weight was 9 lb. 14 3/4 oz.

Measurements of that killed on Spring Island:—Length 4 feet 4 1/2 inches, the claws being 7 inches beyond the tail, so that the length from the tip of the bill to the end of the tail was 3 feet 9 1/2 inches; alar extent 5 feet 8 inches. Weight 8 3/4 lb.

In the Museum of the University of Edinburgh, there is a specimen of still smaller size.

My friend John Bachman, in a note addressed to me, says, “I saw a pair of tame birds of this species, which, as they advanced in age, changed their colours from grey to white.”

Grus Americana, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 302.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 372.

Whooping Crane, Ardea americana, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 20. pl. 64. fig. 3. Adult.

Grus canadensis, Brown Crane, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 373.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXVI.

Bill long, straight, rather slender, but strong, compressed, pointed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight, a little concave at the middle, slightly declinate toward the tip, the ridge flat and rather broad as far as the middle, the sides sloping, towards the end convex, with a wide groove filled by a soft membrane, and extending nearly two-thirds of its length, the edges sharp but thick for two-thirds of its length, and very slightly serrated. Nostrils lateral, placed at about a third of the length of the bill from its base, oblong, large, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle narrow and very long, the sides perpendicular at the base, the edges straight and sharp.

Head small, compressed. Eyes of moderate size. Neck very long. Body rather slender. Feet very long; tibia long, bare to a large extent, and covered with transverse series of rectangular scales; tarsus very long, rather compressed, covered anteriorly with numerous oblique scutella, posteriorly with large, and laterally with small scales; toes rather small; the first very small, second and fourth nearly equal, third considerably longer, the third and fourth connected at the base by a web of considerable size, all marginate, covered above with numerous narrow scutella, beneath broad, flattened, and granulate; claws of moderate size, strong, considerably curved, rather compressed, that of hind toe much smaller, second and third largest, the latter with a groove on its inner edge.

Fore and upper part of head to the occiput papillar, and covered only with small hairs, as are the sides of the head. The plumage in general is soft, but distinctly imbricated; the feathers rounded, those of the neck short. Wings ample; the second primary longest, third and fourth nearly as long, first longer than fifth; inner secondaries and their coverts curved downwards, forming a beautiful bunch of loosely barbed feathers. Tail short, rounded, of twelve broad rounded feathers.

Bill dusky, towards the base yellow. Iris yellow. Bare part of head carmine, with the hairs black. Feet black. The plumage is pure white, excepting the alula, primaries, and primary coverts, which are brownish-black.

Length to end of tail 54 inches; to end of wings 53, to end of claws 65; extent of wings 92; wing from flexure 22 1/2; tail 7; bill along the ridge 5 4/12, along the edge of the lower mandible 5 4/12, bare part of tibia 5; tarsus 11 1/4; middle toe 4 1/4, its claw 3/4.

The Young after its first autumnal moult has the sides of the head feathered behind the eye, and beneath to the base of the lower mandible; the curved secondaries and their coverts are tapering and elongated, but not nearly so much developed as in the old birds. The skin of the head is red; the bill brownish-black, as are the feet. Chin and sides of the head greyish-white. The plumage generally is bluish-grey, but the feathers are largely tipped and margined with yellowish-brown; the primary quills and their coverts dark brown towards the end; but with brownish-white shafts; the abdomen pure greyish-blue.

As the bird advances in age, the yellowish-brown disappears, and the general colour of the plumage becomes pure bluish-grey, which ultimately changes to white.

The trachea, which is 13 inches long to its entrance between the crura of the furcula, passes into a cavity in the sternum, where it curves so as to describe two-thirds of a circle, returns on the right side, and enters the thorax by curving backwards. The cavity in the sternum is 2 inches long, with an equal depth, and a breadth of 3/4 inch. The ridge of the keel is at its fore part 3/4 in breadth, and contracts to 1/2 inch at its junction with the angle of the furcula, which is continuous with it. The gizzard is of moderate size; the intestine, which is thin and small, measures 5 feet in length. Boston specimen.

THE PINTAIL DUCK.

Anus acuta, Linn.
PLATE CCXXVII. Male and Female.

The first observation that I made on arriving at Labrador, was that no species of Ducks, excepting those which were entirely or chiefly oceanic, seemed to resort to that coast, and I left the country with the same impression. We saw no Mallards, Teals, Widgeons, or Wood Ducks there; nor any species of Merganser, excepting the Red-breasted, which is a marine bird. The Pintail Duck, then, was not seen in the parts of that country which I visited; nor was it known in Newfoundland, on the Magdeleine Islands, or in the British province of Nova Scotia, at least along its Atlantic boundaries. In Kentucky and the whole of the Western Country, where it is extremely abundant in early autumn, during winter, and up to a very advanced period in spring, you meet with it wherever its usual food is found. It follows the waters of the Mississippi to New Orleans, is seen westward in the prairies of Oppelousas, and extends to the eastward as far as Massachusetts, beyond which, like the Mallard, it is very seldom seen. Indeed, this species is at all times rare on the sea coast of America, and must therefore be considered as an inland bird.

The Pintail, which, in the United States, is better known by the name of Sprigtail, arrives on the western waters early in October, sometimes even about the middle of September, the period of its arrival depending on the state of the weather, or the appearance of other species, with which it keeps company. Their plumage is in fine condition when they arrive; their tail-feathers are then as long as at any other period, and the whole apparel of the adult birds is as perfect as in the breeding season.

On the water, few birds exhibit more graceful motions than the Pintail Duck. Its delicately slender neck, the beautiful form of its body, and its pointed tail, which it always carries highly raised, distinguish it from the other species with which it may associate. There seems also a kind of natural modesty in it which you do not find in other ducks, and its notes, which are often heard, are soft and pleasant. That these notes should ever have been compared to those of the Mallard, appears to me very strange;—so strange that I am tempted to believe that they who say so must have mistaken Mallards for Pintails.

Whilst with us, the Pintail is found in company with the Baldpate or American Widgeon, the Blue-winged Teal, and the Mallard, more frequently on ponds than on streams, although it sometimes resorts to the latter, when their shores are overhung with beech-trees loaded with their nutritious fruits, of which this species is extremely fond, and in search of which they even ramble to a short distance into the woods. Were this duck to feed entirely on beech-nuts, I have no doubt that its flesh would be excellent. It feeds on tadpoles in spring, and leeches in autumn, while, during winter, a dead mouse, should it come in its way, is swallowed with as much avidity as by a Mallard. To these articles of food it adds insects of all kinds, and, in fact, it is by no means an inexpert fly-catcher.

The Pintails are less shy in the Western Country than most species of their family, and in this respect they resemble the Blue-winged Teals, which in fact might be called stupid birds with as much propriety as many others. They swim rather deeply, keep close together, and raise the hind part of the body like the Mallards; and on the water, on land, or on the wing, several may generally be killed at a shot. A friend of mine killed nineteen with two shots of his double-barrelled gun. They are scarcely nocturnal, but rest much in the middle of the day, basking in the sunshine whilst on the water, whenever they can indulge in this luxury. While on ponds, they feed along the most shallow parts, or by the edges; and if you take my advice, you will never shoot at them while their heads are at the bottom, and their feet kicking above water. I have several times, for diversion, done so, but in no instance did I damage a single individual. But when they raise their heads, you may commit great havock among them.

During heavy rains in winter, or after them, the Pintails are fond of alighting on our broad prairies, corn-fields and meadows; and in almost every puddle you may then find them busily engaged. They move over the ground as swiftly as Wood Ducks, still carrying their tail erect, unless when seizing an insect that is on wing or resting on a blade of grass. I knew a particular spot in a corn-field, not many miles from Bayou Sara in Louisiana, where, even after a shower, I was sure to meet with this species, and where I could always have produced a good number, had I thought them likely to be prized at the dinner-table. While I was at General Hernandez’s in Florida, the Pintails were very numerous. They alighted everywhere, and I shot a few in order to satisfy myself that they were of the same species as those I had been accustomed to see. On one occasion I shot at a large flock swimming on a shallow pond in a large savannah, and wounded several, which I was surprised to see diving very expertly as I waded out for them, this species being by no means addicted to that practice. Those which I have now and then wounded, while in a boat and in deep water, soon gave up diving, and surrendered, without exhibiting any of those feats of cunning performed by other species.

The flight of the Pintails is very rapid, greatly protracted, and almost noiseless. They arrive in the Western Country mostly in the dusk of evening, and alight without much circumspection wherever they find water. They remain at night in the ponds where they feed, and continue there generally unless much disturbed. On such occasions they keep in the middle of the water, to avoid their land enemies; but the Virginian and Barred Owls not unfrequently surprise them, and force them to rise or make towards the shore, when they fall a prey to the nocturnal marauders. In the Middle States, they are highly esteemed for the table. There they arrive later and retire sooner towards their breeding-places, than in the country west of the Alleghany Mountains.

Anas acuta, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 202.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 864.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 383.

Pintail Duck, Anas acuta, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 72. pl. 68. fig. 3.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 386.

Anas caudacuta, Pintail Duck, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 441.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXVII. Fig. 1.

Bill nearly as long as the head, deeper than broad at the base, depressed towards the end, the frontal angles short and obtuse. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first sloping, then concave, towards the curved unguis nearly straight, the ridge broad and flat at the base, then broadly convex, the sides convex, the edges soft, with about fifty internal lamellæ; unguis small, somewhat triangular, curved abruptly at the broad end. Nostrils subbasal, lateral, rather small, oval, pervious. Lower mandible flattish, its angle very long and narrow, the dorsal line very short, slightly convex, the sides convex, the edges soft, with about sixty lamellæ.

Head of moderate size, compressed, the forehead rounded. Neck rather long and slender. Body full and depressed. Wings rather small. Feet very short, placed rather far back; tarsus very short, compressed, at its lower part anteriorly with two series of scutella, the rest covered with reticulated angular scales. Toes obliquely scutellate above; first very small, free, with a narrow membrane beneath; third longest; fourth a little shorter, their connecting webs entire, reticulated, at the edge pectinate; claws small, curved, compressed, acute, the hind one smaller and more curved, that of the third toe with an inner sharp edge.

Plumage dense, soft, blended. Feathers of the head and neck short, on the hind head and neck elongated. Wings narrow, of moderate length, acute, the first quill longest, the second nearly equal, the rest rapidly graduated; outer secondaries broad and rounded; inner elongated and tapering, as are their coats, and the scapulars; first quill serrated on the outer edge, somewhat like that of an Owl. Tail of moderate length, tapering, of fourteen tapering feathers, of which the two middle project far beyond the rest.

Bill black, the sides of upper mandible light blue. Iris brown. Feet greyish-blue; claws black. Head, throat, and upper part of neck anteriorly greenish-brown, faintly margined behind with purplish-red; a small part of hind neck dark green; the rest, and the upper parts in general beautifully undulated with very narrow bars of brownish-black and yellowish-white, smaller wing-coverts, alula, and primary quills grey, the latter dark-brown towards the end; speculum of a coppery red, changing to dull green, edged anteriorly with light brownish-red, posteriorly with white; the inner secondaries, and the scapulars, black and green, with broad grey margins. Upper tail-coverts cream-coloured, the outer webs blackish and green; tail light grey, the middle feathers dark brown, glossed with green. On each side of the neck is an oblique band of white, of which colour are the under parts in general, the sides however undulated like the back, the lateral feathers of the rump cream-coloured, the lower tail-coverts black, those at the sides edged with white.

Length to end of tail 29 inches; extent of wings 36; bill along the back 2 2/12, along the edge of lower mandible 2 3/12; tarsus 1 8/12, middle toe 2, its claw 4/12; wing from flexure 11, tail 5 1/2. Weight 2 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXVII. Fig. 2.

The Female, which is much smaller, has the upper parts variegated with brownish-black and light yellowish-brown, the margin of the feathers, and a mark on each side of the shaft being of the latter colour; the speculum is dusky green, margined behind with white; the primary quills greyish-brown. The lower parts are of a light brownish-yellow, the sides variegated with brown, the bill is black, the iris brown, the feet light bluish-grey.

Length 22 1/2 inches, extent of wings 34. Weight 1 lb. 9 oz.

THE GREEN-WINGED TEAL.

Anas Crecca, Linn.
PLATE CCXXVIII. Male and Female.

Nothing can be more pleasing to an American sportsman, than the arrival of this beautiful little duck in our Southern or Western States. There, in the month of September, just as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, you may find him standing on some mote or embankment of a rice-field in Carolina, or a neck of land between two large ponds in Kentucky, his gun loaded with number four, and his dog lying at his feet. He sees advancing from afar, at a brisk rate, a small dark cloud, which he has some minutes ago marked and pronounced to be a flock of Green-winged Teals. Now he squats on his haunches; his dog lies close; and ere another minute has elapsed, right over his head, but too high to be shot at, pass the winged travellers. Some of them remember the place well, for there they have reposed and fed before. Now they wheel, dash irregularly through the air, sweep in a close body over the watery fields, and in their course pass near the fatal spot where the gunner anxiously awaits. Hark, two shots in rapid succession! The troop is in disorder, and the dog dashes through the water. Here and there lies a Teal, with its legs quivering; there, one is whirling round in the agonies of death; some, which are only winged, quickly and in silence make their way towards a hiding-place, while one, with a single pellet in his head, rises perpendicularly with uncertain beats, and falls with a splash on the water. The gunner has charged his tubes, his faithful follower has brought up all the game, and the frightened Teals have dressed their ranks, and flying now high, now low, seem curious to see the place where their companions have been left. Again they fly over the dangerous spot, and again receive the double shower of shot. Were it not that darkness has now set in, the carnage might continue until the sportsman should no longer consider the thinned flock worthy of his notice. In this manner, at the first arrival of the Green-winged Teal in the Western Country, I have seen upwards of six dozen shot by a single gunner in the course of one day.

I have often thought that water-birds, ducks for example, like land-birds which migrate in flocks, are very apt to pass over the place where others of the same kind had been before. Pigeons, Starlings, Robins, and other land-birds are often observed to do so; while Curlews, Cormorants, Plovers, Ducks and Geese, are similar in this respect. The first object in view with such species is to remove from one part of the country to another, as every one knows; and as to reach a place of safety abundantly supplied with food, is the next object, you may perhaps join me in concluding, that, to the spot or district in which birds have once been and spent a season, they are ever afterwards inclined to return. Well, the Green-wings are known to follow each other in flocks, sometimes consisting of a few families, sometimes of many hundred individuals, particularly in autumn, when old and young leave the north to avoid the rigours of its dreary winter. In spring, again, many species both of land and water birds perform their migrations, either singly or in smaller groups, the males departing before the females, and in some cases the young keeping by themselves, an arrangement perhaps intended for the greater dispersion of the species.

In Louisiana, the Green-winged Teal is named Sarcelle d’hiver, while the Blue-winged species bears the name of Sarcelle d’été, although the latter remains only some weeks in that country after the departure of the former. Its general name, however, is the “Green-wing”: and a poor name in my opinion it is, for the bird has not more green on its wings than several other species have. Indeed, very many birds are strangely named, not less in pure Latin, than in English, French, and Dutch; and very many are every year receiving names still stranger than those they bore. For my part, I am at present a kind of conservative, and adhere to the old system until I see the mud raised up by the waders subside, when I may probe my way with more chance of success.

The Green-winged Teal is a fresh-water bird, being rarely met with in marine bays, creeks, or lagoons, where, however, it may sometimes spend a few days. It is accordingly enabled to feed with its body half-immersed, in the manner of the Mallard and several other species, for which purpose it is furnished with a comparatively long neck. Its food consists principally of the seeds of grasses, which are collected either when floating or when still adhering to their stalks, small acorns, fallen grapes or berries, as well as aquatic insects, worms, and small snails. I have never found water lizards, leeches, fishes, or even tadpoles in their gizzards. The food of this bird being thus more select than that of most other Ducks, its flesh is delicious, probably the best of any of its tribe; and I would readily agree with any epicure in saying, that when it has fed on wild oats at Green Bay, or on soaked rice in the fields of Georgia and the Carolinas, for a few weeks after its arrival in those countries, it is much superior to the Canvass-back in tenderness, juiciness, and flavour. Indeed, the Green-wing is as much superior to the Canvass-back, as the European Quail is to the Capercailie, or the Sora of the Delaware to the Scolopaceous Curlew of the Florida Ever Glades.

On land, the Green-wing moves with more ease and grace than any other species with which I am acquainted, excepting our beautiful Wood Duck. It can run at a good rate, without entangling its webbed feet, as many others do; and in this, too, there is a marked difference between fresh-water and salt-water Ducks, as one may very readily perceive. On the water, also, it moves with great ease, at times with considerable rapidity, and when not severely wounded, is able to dive in a very creditable manner. On wing it has no rivals among Ducks. Our two smaller Mergansers, however, are swifter, although they exhibit none of the graceful movements every now and then shewn by the Green-wings, when coursing in the air over and around a pond, a river, or a large wet savannah. They rise from the water at a single spring, and so swiftly too, that none but an expert marksman need attempt to shoot them, if when starting they are many yards distant. While feeding, they proceed in a close body along the shores, or wherever the water is so shallow that they can reach the bottom with ease. In savannahs or watery fields intersected by dry ridges, they remove from one pool to another on foot, unless the distance is considerable; and in effecting the transit, they run so huddled together, as to enable a gunner to make great havock among them. When the cravings of hunger are satisfied, they retire to some clean part of the shore, or a sandbar, where they rest in perfect harmony, each individual composing its dress, and afterwards, with wings slightly drooping, placing its breast to the sun. There they remain for an hour or more at a time, some sound asleep, some dosing, but rarely without a trusty sentinel watching over their safety. In this manner they spend the winter months in the Southern and Western Countries. There, indeed, they are far more abundant than in our eastern districts, just because the climate is milder, the human population more dispersed, and the damp fields, meadows, and savannahs more abundant.

The migrations of this species are performed more over the land than along the borders of the sea; and it is probable that its principal breeding-places are in the interior of the fur countries; as it has been met there by Sir Edward Parry, Sir James Ross, Dr Richardson, and other intrepid travellers. Some, however, remain on our great lakes, and I have seen individuals breeding on the banks of the Wabash, in Illinois, where I found a female with young, all of which I obtained. It was not far above Vincennes, and in the month of July. On Lakes Erie and Michigan, nests containing eggs have also been found; but these may have been cases in which the birds were unable to proceed farther north, on account of wounds or other circumstances, or because of the early period at which they might have paired before the general departure of the flocks, a cause of detention more common in migratory birds than people seem to be aware of. These opportunities, few as they were, have enabled me to see the kinds of places in which the nests were found, the structure of the nest, the number, size, and colour of the eggs; so that I have in so far been qualified to draw a comparison between our Green-winged Teal and that of Europe.

The Green-wings leave the neighbourhood of New Orleans in the end of February; but in the Carolinas they remain until late in March, at which time also they depart from all the places between the Atlantic and the States of Kentucky, Indiana, &c. Farther eastward I have seen this species as late as the 9th of May, when I shot a few not far from Philadelphia. As you advance farther along our coast, you find it more rare; and scarcely any are met with near the shores of the British provinces. In Newfoundland and Labrador, it is never seen. Its migrations southward, I am satisfied, extend beyond the United States; but their extreme limits are unknown to me. I have seldom seen it associate with other species, although I have frequently observed individuals on a pond or river not far from other Ducks. It is more shy than the Blue-winged Teal, but less so than most of our other fresh-Water Ducks. Its voice is seldom heard during winter, except when a flock is passing over another that has alighted, when a few of the males call to the voyagers, as if to invite them to join them. Before they depart, however, they become noisy. Combats take place among the males; the females are seen coquetting around them, and most of the birds are paired before they leave us.

In the few instances in which I found the nest of this bird, and they were only three, it was not placed nearer the water than five or six yards, and I should not have discovered it had I not first seen the birds swimming or washing themselves near the spot. By watching them carefully I discovered their landing places, and on going up found a path formed, in a direct line among the rushes. In two cases I came so near the nest, as almost to touch the sitting bird as it rose affrighted. While it flew round me, and then alighted on the water, I viewed the nest, with perhaps more interest than I have felt on most occasions of a like nature. On a scanty bed of the bird’s own down and feathers, supported by another of grasses, intermixed with mud and stalks of the plants around, raised to the height of four or five inches, I found seven eggs in one, nine in another, and only five in a third. They were all found in the month of July, and not far from Green Bay. The average measurement of the eggs was an inch and three quarters by an inch and three-eighths. They were much rounded, of a dull yellowish colour, indistinctly marked with a deeper tint, as if soiled. In one of the nests only the eggs were fresh. I took two of them, which I afterwards ate. Having planted a stick as a mark of recognition, I visited the nest three days in succession, but found that the bird had abandoned it; while those of the other two nests, which were not more than about a hundred yards distant, and whose eggs I had handled quite as much, although I took none away, continued to sit. No male birds were to be seen during my stay in that neighbourhood. I concluded that although the eggs may be touched or even handled and lifted from the nest, yet if they were all replaced, the bird did not take umbrage; but that should any of them be missed, some strong feeling urged her to abandon the rest. Again I thought that as incubation had just commenced with this bird, she cared less about her eggs than the other two whose eggs contained chicks.

Having met with the young of this species only once, at a time when I was less aware of the necessity of noting observations in writing, I am unwilling to speak of their colours from recollection. All I can say is that I had great trouble in catching four of them, so cunningly did they hide in the grass, and so expert were they at diving.

Anas Crecca, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 204.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 872.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 386.

Anas Crecca, var. American Teal, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 443.

Green-winged Teal, Anas Crecca, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 101. pl. 70. fig. 4.

American Teal, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 400.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXVIII. Fig. 1.

Bill almost as long as the head, deeper than broad at the base, depressed towards the end, its breadth nearly equal in its whole length, being however a little enlarged towards the rounded tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first sloping, then concave, towards the ends nearly straight, the ridge broad and flat at the base, then broadly convex, the sides convex, the edges soft, with about fifty-five lamellæ. Nostrils subbasal, near the ridge, rather small, elliptical, pervious. Lower mandible flattish, with the angle very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short, straight, the sides perpendicular with about 130 lamellæ.

Head of moderate size, compressed. Neck of moderate length, rather slender. Body full, depressed. Wings rather small. Feet short, placed rather far back; tarsus short, compressed, at its lower part anteriorly with two series of scutella, the rest covered with reticulated angular scales. Toes scutellate above; first toe very small, free, with a narrow membrane beneath; third longest; fourth a little shorter; the anterior toes united by reticulated webs, of which the outer is deeply sinuate; claws small, curved, compressed, acute, the hind one smaller and more curved, that of the third toe largest, and with an inner sharp edge.

Plumage dense, soft, blended. Feathers of the middle of the head and upper part of hind neck, very narrow, elongated, with soft filamentous disunited bands, of the rest of the head and upper part of neck very short, of the back and lower parts in general broad and rounded. Wings of moderate length, narrow, acute; primaries strong, curved, tapering, second longest, first scarcely shorter; secondaries broad, rather pointed, the inner elongated and tapering, as are the scapulars. Tail short, rounded and acuminate, of sixteen acuminate feathers.

Bill black. Iris brown. Feet light bluish-grey. Head and upper part of the neck chestnut-brown; a broad band, narrowing backwards, from the eye down the back of the neck, deep shining green, edged with black below, under which is a white line, which before the eye meets another that curves forward and downward to the angle of the mouth; chin brownish-black, as are the feathers at the base of the upper mandible. Upper parts and flanks beautifully undulated, with narrow brownish-black and white bars; anterior to the wings is a short broad transverse band of white. Wings brownish-grey; the speculum in its lower half velvet-black, the upper bright green, changing to purple, and edged above with black, behind margined with white, before with reddish-white. Tail brownish-grey, the feathers margined with paler; the upper coverts brownish-black, edged with light yellowish-grey. Lower part of neck anteriorly barred as behind; breast yellowish-white, spotted with black, its lower part white; abdomen white, faintly barred with grey; a patch of black under the tail, the lateral tail-coverts cream coloured, the larger black, with broad white margins and tips.

Length to end of tail 14 3/4 inches, to end of claws 15 1/4; extent of wings 24; wing from flexure 7 1/2; tail 3 1/4; bill along the back 1 7/12, along the edge of lower mandible 1 9/12; tarsus 1 2/12; middle toe 1 6/12, its claw 5/12. Weight 10 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female wants the elongated crest, and differs greatly in colouring. The head and neck are streaked with dark brown and light red, the fore neck whitish; the upper parts mottled with dark brown, the anterior feathers barred, the posterior margined with yellowish-white. The wings are nearly as in the male, but the green of the speculum is less extensive; the lower part of the fore neck is tinged with yellowish-red, and mottled with dark brown, as are the sides; the rest of the lower parts white.

Length to end of tail 13 3/4; to end of claws 1 1/4; extent of wings 22 1/2. Weight 10 oz.

The differences between the American and European specimens are so small that I can find no good reason for considering the birds of the two continents distinct. The American Teal has a white band before the wing, which the European bird has not, while the latter has the greater part of the outer webs of most of the scapulars white, there being none of that colour on those of our bird. The proportions and size are similar; and if the two birds are really distinct species, I do not know upon what circumstances specific distinctions are to be founded.

THE SCAUP DUCK.

Fuligula Marila, Steph.
PLATE CCXXIX. Male and Female.

The opinion, derived from Wilson’s account of the Scaup Duck, that it is met with only along our sea coasts, in bays, or in the mouths of rivers, as far as the tide extends, is incorrect. Had Wilson resided in the Western Country, or seen our large lakes and broad rivers during late autumn, winter, or early spring, he would have had ample opportunities of observing thousands of this species, on the Ohio, the Missouri, and the Mississippi, from Pittsburg to New Orleans. I have shot a good number of Scaup Ducks on all these rivers, where I have observed them to arrive early in October, and whence they depart between the 1st of March and the middle of April. I have not, however, seen any in small creeks, lagoons, or ponds. When they arrive on the western waters, they are seen in flocks of from fifteen to twenty individuals; but in a few weeks these flocks are joined by others, for which reason the species is named in Kentucky the “Flocking Fowl.” They are, however, seldom seen close together while on the water, and they rarely associate with other birds.

The Scaup Duck seems to float less lightly than it really does, its body being comparatively flat. It moves fast, frequently sipping the water, as if to ascertain whether its favourite food be in it. Then turning its head and glancing on either side to assure itself of security, down it dives with all the agility of a Merganser, and remains a considerable time below. On emerging, it shakes its head, raises the hind part of its body, opens its short and rather curved wings, after a few flaps replaces them, and again dives in search of food. Should any person appear when it emerges, it swims off to a considerable distance, watches every movement of the intruder, and finally either returns to its former place, or flies away.

These birds are fond of large eddies below projecting points of land, but frequently dive in search of food at a considerable distance from them. When in eddies they may be approached and shot with less difficulty than when in any other situation. If wounded only, they are not easily secured; in fact, you need not go after them, for by diving, fluttering along the surface, and cutting backward and forward, they generally elude pursuit. Between Louisville and Shippingport, on the Kentucky side of the Ohio, the shores are from ten to fifteen feet high, and rather abrupt when the waters are at their ordinary level. The Scaup Ducks are fond of diving for food along this place, and there, by coming directly upon them unseen, till you are almost over them, you may have the very best opportunities of procuring them. They are not worth shooting, however, unless for sport or examination, for their flesh is generally tough and rather fishy in flavour. Indeed I know none, excepting what is called an Epicure, who could relish a Scaup Duck.

They appear to experience some difficulty in getting on wing, and assist themselves on all occasions, either by meeting the current or fronting the wind, while they also use their broad feet as helps. When danger is near, they frequently, however, prefer diving, which they find as effectual a means of security as flying. As they usually feed at some distance from each other, it is amusing to see them go off, as they emerge from the water in succession, and to watch them when they collect again, and when, after flying for a long time in circles, now high then low over the water, they all realight. These habits, and the toughness of their sinewy bodies, render it rather difficult to shoot them. Although flat-billed, they dive to a considerable depth, and when they have reached the bottom, no doubt furrow the mud, in the manner of the Shoveller (Anas clypeata), although the latter performs this action while floating on the surface, with its head and neck alone submersed, as it swims over the shallows.

The food of the Scaup Duck I have found to consist of small fry, crayfishes, and a mixture of such grasses as here and there grow along the beds of our rivers. I never found any portions of testaceous mollusca in the gizzards of those obtained on our western waters, although even there they might meet with abundance of these animals.

When these birds are travelling, their flight is steady, rather laborious, but greatly protracted. The whistling of their wings is heard at a considerable distance when they are passing over head. At this time they usually move in a broad front, sometimes in a continuous line. When disturbed, they fly straight forward for a while, with less velocity than when travelling, and, if within proper distance, are easily shot. At times their notes are shrill, but at others hoarse and guttural. They are however rarely heard during the day, and indeed, like many other species, these birds are partly nocturnal.

At the approach of spring the Drakes pay their addresses to the females, before they set out on their journey. At that period the males become more active and lively, bowing their heads, opening their broad bills, and uttering a kind of quack, which to the listener seems produced by wind in their stomach, but notwithstanding appears to delight their chosen females.

The Scaup Duck varies materially as to size at different ages. Some wounded individuals which I kept, and which were birds of the first year, were much larger and heavier at the end of a year; and I agree with my learned friend Nuttall, that specimens may be procured measuring from sixteen and a half to eighteen, nineteen, or twenty inches in length.

On the Atlantic coast I have met with this species from the Gulf of Mexico to the Bay of Fundy, and my friend Thomas Macculloch has told me that they are not unfrequent at Pictou in Nova Scotia. Farther north I saw none; and their breeding places are yet unknown to me.

Anas marila, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 196.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 853.

Fuligula marila, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 392.—Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 453.

Scaup Duck, Anas marila, Wils. Amer. Ornith, vol. viii. p. 84. pl. 69. fig. 8.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 437.

Adult Male. CCXXIX. Fig. 1.

Bill as long as the head, deeper than broad at the base, enlarged and flattened towards the end, which is rounded, the frontal angles narrow and pointed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first straight and declinate, then slightly concave, along the unguis curved, the ridge broad at the base, narrowed at the middle, enlarged and convex towards the end, the sides nearly erect at the base, becoming more and more declinate and convex, the edges curved upwards, with about forty lamellæ, the unguis small and oblong. Nostrils submedial, oblong, rather large, pervious, near the ridge, in an oblong groove with a soft membrane. Lower mandible flat, with the angle very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short and straight, the erect edges with about sixty lamellæ,—on the upper edge, however, the lamellæ are more numerous,—the unguis broadly elliptical.

Head of moderate size. Eyes small. Neck of moderate length, rather thick. Body comparatively short, compact, and depressed. Wings small. Feet very short, strong, placed rather far behind; tarsus very short, compressed, anteriorly with a series of broad scutella, externally of which is another of smaller, the rest reticulated with angular scales. Hind toe small, with a free membrane beneath; anterior toes double the length of the tarsus, united by reticulated membranes having a sinus at their free margins, the outer and inner with loose somewhat lobed marginal membranes, all obliquely scutellate above, the third and fourth about equal and longest. Claws small, that of first toe very small and curved, of middle toe largest, with an inner thin edge, of the rest very slender and pointed.

Plumage dense, soft, blended. Feathers of the head and neck short and velvety, those of the hind head a little elongated. Wings shortish, narrow, pointed; primary quills curved, strong, tapering, the first longest, the second very little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondary broad and rounded, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail very short, much rounded, of fourteen feathers.

Bill light greyish-blue, the unguis blackish. Iris yellow. Feet greyish-blue, the webs and claws black. The head, the whole neck, and the fore part of the back and breast black, the head and neck glossed with purple and green, the rest tinged with brown. Hind part of the back, rump, abdomen, and upper and lower tail-coverts brownish-black. Middle of the back, scapulars, inner secondaries, anterior part of abdomen, and sides greyish-white, beautifully marked with undulating black lines. Middle of the breast white, wings light brownish-grey. Alula, primaries at the base and end, and the greater part of secondaries, brownish-black; the speculum on the latter white.

Length to end of tail 16 1/2 inches, to end of claws 18; extent of wings 29; wing from flexure 8 1/4; tail 2 1/4; bill along the back 1 10/12, along the edge of lower mandible 2; tarsus 1 1/4; middle toe 2 2/12, its claw 5 1/2/12. Weight 1 lb. 6 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXIX. Fig. 2.

The female agrees with the male in the characters of the plumage, and in the colours of the bare parts; but those of the former differ considerably. The head, neck, and fore part of the back and breast, are umber brown; and there is a broad patch of white along the fore part of the forehead. The upper parts in general are brownish-black, the middle of the back and the scapulars undulated with whitish dots and bars. The primary quills are greyish in the middle, and the speculum is white, but of less extent than in the male. The greater part of the breast and abdomen is white; the sides and parts under the tail umber brown.

Length 16 1/2 inches, extent of wings 28. Weight 1 lb. 6 oz.

The males, as has been said, vary greatly in size, but in adult specimens there is little difference in colouring. The birds figured in my Illustrations, and described above, were from the Mississippi; but others seen in various parts presented no such differences as to indicate permanent varieties.

THE SANDERLING.

Tringa arenaria, Bonap.
PLATE CCXXX. Male and Female.

Although the Sanderling extends its rambles along our Atlantic shores, from the eastern extremities of Maine to the southernmost Keys of the Floridas, it is only an autumnal and winter visitor. It arrives in the more Eastern Districts about the 1st of August, on the sea-shores of New York and New Jersey rarely before the 10th of August, and seldom reaches the extensive sand-banks of East Florida previous to the month of November. Along the whole of this extended coast, it is more or less abundant, sometimes appearing in bands composed of a few individuals, and at times in large flocks, but generally mingling with other species of small shore-birds. Thus I have seen Turnstones and Knots mixed with the Sanderlings, but in such cases they are perhaps wanderers, which have not succeeded in meeting with companions of their own species, that associate with the birds of which I here speak.

The Sanderling obtains its food principally by probing the moist sands of the sea-shores with its bill held in an oblique position. At every step it inserts this instrument with surprising quickness, to a greater or less depth, according to the softness of the sand, sometimes introducing it a quarter of an inch, sometimes to the base. The holes thus made may be seen on the borders of beaches, when the tide is fast receding, in rows of twenty, thirty, or more; in certain spots less numerous; for it appears that when a place proves unproductive of the food for which they are searching, they very soon take to their wings and remove to another, now and then in so hurried a manner that one might suppose they had been suddenly frightened. The contents of the stomach of those which I shot while thus occupied, were slender sea-worms, about an inch in length, together with minute shell-fish and gravel. At other times, when they were seen following the receding waves, and wading up to the belly in the returning waters, I found in them small shrimps and other crustacea.

In their flight the Sanderlings do not perform so many evolutions as Sandpipers usually display. They generally alight about a hundred yards of the place from which they started, and run for a yard or so, keeping their wings partially extended. They move on the sand with great activity, running so as to keep pace with a man walking at a moderate rate. Their flight is rapid and straighter than that of other small species, and when on wing they seldom exhibit each surface of the body alternately, as many others are wont to do.

I have thought that the migrations of this bird are carried on under night; but of this I am by no means certain, although I observed some small flocks, composed of a few dozen individuals, crossing the Gulf of St Lawrence, at a little height over the water, in the month of June. The lateness of the season induced me to hope that I might find some nests of the Sanderling on the coast of Labrador; but in this I was disappointed, although some young birds were seen at Bras d’Or, in little parties of four or five individuals. This was early in August, and they were already on their way southward.

The Sanderling affords good eating, especially the young, and the sportsman may occasionally kill six or seven at a shot, provided he fires the moment the flock has alighted, for immediately after the birds spread abroad in search of food.

The female may easily be distinguished from the male, by her superior size; but in the colouring of birds of both sexes, I have observed as much difference as in the Turnstone. Even during winter, some are more or less marked with black and brownish-red, while others, which, however, I easily ascertained to be younger birds, were of an almost uniform light grey above, each feather edged with dull white; but in all those which I have examined, whether old birds in the full spring or summer dress, in which I have shot some in May, in the Middle Districts, or young birds in autumn and during winter, I have seen no difference in the colours of the bill, legs, and toes. My plate of this species represents two birds in winter plumage, which were obtained in East Florida in the month of December. The figure of a fine male, which, being on another sheet of paper, was overlooked during my absence from London, you will find in Plate CCLXXXV. of “The Birds of America.”

Charadrius Calidris, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 255.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 741, in Winter.

Charadrius rubidus, Ibid. p. 740, in Summer.

Tringa arenaria, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 320.

Calidris arenaria, Sanderling, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 366.

Ruddy Plover, Charadrius rubidus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 129. pl. 63. fig. 3.—Summer dress.

Sanderling Plover, Ibidem, vol. vii. p. 68. pl. 59. fig. 4. Winter dress.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 4.

Adult Male in winter. Plate CCXXX. Fig. 1.

Bill rather longer than the head, slender, subcylindrical, straight, flexible, compressed at the base, the point rather depressed and obtuse. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight, slightly sloping to beyond the middle, the ridge convex, towards the end flattened, at the point convex; sides sloping, edges rather blunt and soft. Nasal groove long; nostrils basal, linear, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle long and very narrow, the dorsal line slightly convex, the sides sloping outwards, towards the end convex.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed. Eyes rather large. Neck of moderate length. Body rather slender. Feet slender, of moderate length; tibia bare a considerably way up; tarsus compressed, anteriorly and posteriorly with numerous small scutella; hind toe wanting; toes of moderate length, slender; inner toe shorter than outer, middle toe considerably longer, all scutellate above and marginate, with prominent papillæ, and free; claws small, slightly curved, extremely compressed, blunt.

Plumage very soft, blended beneath, slightly distinct above. Wings long and pointed; primaries tapering, obtuse, the first longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries rather short, obliquely rounded, curved inwards, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail rather short, rounded, of twelve feathers, the two middle ones considerably longer.

Bill and feet black. Iris brown. The general colour of the plumage above is ash-grey, the edges paler; the lower parts pure white. Alula and primaries brownish-black, the latter with more or less white on their outer webs or along the shaft; secondaries white, the outer with a patch of brownish-black towards the end, the inner ash-grey; primary coverts brownish-black, tipped with white; secondary coverts greyish-brown, broadly tipped with white. Middle tail feathers greyish-brown, their shafts white, the rest of a paler tint on the outer webs, white on the inner, the lateral almost pure white.

Length to end of tail 7 10/12, to end of wings 7 10/12, to end of claws 8 1/4; extent of wings 12 1/2; wing from flexure 4 11/12; tail 2 2/12; bill along the back 1; along the edge of lower mandible 1 1/2/12; tarsus 1; middle toe 3/4, its claw 2/12. Weight 1 3/4 oz.

Adult Female in Winter. Plate CCXXX. Fig. 2.

The Female is precisely similar to the Male.

In its summer plumage, this species differs in the following particulars. The bill, feet, and iris, are as described above, and the lower parts are also pure white, excepting the fore part and sides of the neck, which, as well as the upper parts of the head, and the hind neck, are pale yellowish-red, spotted with brownish-black. The back is similarly marked, the spots larger, and on the scapulars disposed in bars; the tips of most of the feathers greyish-white, the wings and tail are as in winter.

A RACOON HUNT IN KENTUCKY.

The Racoon, which is a cunning and crafty animal, is found in all our woods, so that its name is familiar to every child in the Union. The propensity which it evinces to capture all kinds of birds accessible to it in its nightly prowlings, for the purpose of feasting on their flesh, induces me to endeavour to afford you some idea of the pleasure which our western hunters feel in procuring it. With your leave, then, Reader, I will take you to a “Coon Hunt.”

A few hours ago the sun went down far beyond the “far west.” The woodland choristers have disappeared, the matron has cradled her babe, and betaken herself to the spinning-wheel; the woodsman, his sons, and “the stranger” are chatting before a blazing fire, making wise reflections on past events, and anticipating those that are to come. Autumn, sallow and sad, prepares to bow her head to the keen blast of approaching winter; the corn, though still on its stalk, has lost its blades; the wood pile is as large as the woodsman’s cabin; the nights have become chill, and each new morn has effected a gradual change in the dews, which now crust the withered herbage with a coat of glittering white. The sky is still cloudless; a thousand twinkling stars reflect their light from the tranquil waters; all is silent and calm in the forest, save the nightly prowlers that roam in its recesses. In the cheerful cabin all is happiness; its inmates generously strive to contribute to the comfort of the stranger who has chanced to visit them; and, as racoons are abundant in the neighbourhood, they propose a hunt. The offer is gladly accepted. The industrious woman leaves her wheel, for she has listened to her husband’s talk; now she approaches the fire, takes up the board shovel, stirs the embers, produces a basket filled with sweet potatoes, arranges its contents side by side in front of the hearth, and covers them with hot ashes and glowing coals. All this she does, because she “guesses” that hungry stomachs will be calling for food when the sport is over. Ah! Reader, what “homely joys” there are in such scenes, and how you would enjoy them! The rich may produce a better, or a more sumptuous meal; but his feelings can never be like those of the poor woodsman. Poor I ought not to call him, for nature and industry bountifully supply all his wants; the woods and rivers produce his chief dainties, and his toils are his pleasures.

Now mark him! the bold Kentuckian is on his feet; his sons and the stranger prepare for the march. Horns and rifles are in requisition. The goodman opens the wooden-hinged door, and sends forth a blast loud enough to scare a wolf. The racoons scamper away from the cornfields, break through the fences, and hie to the woods. The hunter has taken an axe from the wood-pile, and returning, assures us that the night is clear, and that we shall have rare sport. He blows through his rifle, to ascertain that it is clear, examines his flint, and thrusts a feather into the touch-hole. To a leathern bag swung at his side is attached a powder-horn; his sheathed knife is there also; below hangs a narrow strip of home-spun linen. He takes from his bag a bullet, pulls with his teeth the wooden stopper from his powder-horn, lays the ball on one hand, and with the other pours the powder upon it until it is just overtopped. Raising the horn to his mouth, he again closes it with the stopper, and restores it to its place. He introduces the powder into the tube; springs the box of his gun, greases the “patch” over with some melted tallow, or damps it; then places it on the honeycombed muzzle of his piece. The bullet is placed on the patch over the bore, and pressed with the handle of the knife, which now trims the edges of the linen. The elastic hickory rod, held with both hands, smoothly pushes the ball to its bed: once, twice, thrice has it rebounded. The rifle leaps as it were into the hunter’s arms, the feather is drawn from the touch-hole, the powder fills the pan, which is closed. “Now I’m ready,” cries the woodsman. His companions say the same. Hardly more than a minute has elapsed. I wish, Reader, you had seen this fine fellow—but hark! the dogs are barking.

All is now bustle within and without: a servant lights a torch, and off we march to the woods. “Don’t mind the boys, my dear sir,” says the woodsman, “follow me close, for the ground is covered with logs, and the grape vines hang everywhere across.” “Toby, hold up the light, man, or we’ll never see the gullies.” “Trail your gun, sir, as General Clark used to say,—not so, but this way—that’s it; now then, no danger you see; no fear of snakes, poor things! They are stiff enough, I’ll be bound. The dogs have treed one. Toby, you old fool, why don’t you turn to the right—not so much there—go a-head, and give us light—What’s that?—Who’s there?—Ah, you young rascals! you’ve played us a trick, have you. It’s all well enough, but now, just keep behind, or I’ll”—and in fact, the boys, with eyes good enough to see in the dark, although not quite so well as an Owl’s, had cut directly across the dogs, which had surprised a racoon on the ground and bayed it, until the lads knocked it on the head. “Seek him, boys,” cries the hunter.—The dogs, putting their noses to the ground, pushed off at a good rate. “Master, they’re making for the creek,” says old Toby. On towards it therefore we push. What woods, to be sure! No gentleman’s park this, I assure you, Reader. We are now in a low flat; the soil thinly covers the hard clay; nothing but beech trees hereabouts, unless now and then a maple. Hang the limbs! say I—hang the supple-jacks too—here I am, fast by the neck—cut it with your knife. My knee has had a tremendous rub against a log—now, my foot is jammed between two roots—and here I stick. “Toby, come back—don’t you know the stranger is not up to the woods. Halloo, Toby, Toby!” There I stood perfectly shackled, the hunter laughing heartily, and the lads glad of an opportunity of slipping off. Toby arrived, and held the torch near the ground, on which the hunter cutting one of the roots with his hatchet, set me free. “Are you hurt, Sir?”—no, not in the least. Off we start again. The boys had got up with the dogs, which were baying a Racoon in a small puddle. We soon joined them with the light. “Now, stranger! watch and see!” The Racoon was all but swimming, and yet had hold of the bottom of the pool with his feet. The glare of the lighted torch was doubtless distressing to him; his coat was ruffled, and his rounded tail seemed thrice its ordinary size, his eyes shone like emeralds; with foaming jaws he watched the dogs, ready to seize each by the snout if it came within reach. They kept him busy for several minutes; the water became thick with mud; his coat now hung dripping, and his draggled tail lay floating on the surface. His guttural growlings, in place of intimidating his assailants, excited them the more; and they very unceremoniously closed upon him, curs as they were, and without the breeding of gentle dogs! One seized him by the rump and tugged, but was soon forced to let go; another stuck to his side, but soon taking a better directed bite of his muzzle than another dog had just done of his tail, coon made him yelp; and pitiful were the cries of luckless Tyke. The Racoon would not let go, but in the mean time the other dogs seized him fast, and worried him to death, yet to the last he held by his antagonist’s snout. Knocked on the head by an axe, he lay gasping his last breath, and the heaving of his chest was painful to see. The hunters stood gazing at him in the pool, while all around was by the flare of the torch rendered trebly dark and dismal. It was a good scene for a skilful painter.

We had now two coons, whose furs were worth two quarters of a dollar, and whose bodies, which I must not forget, as Toby informed us, would produce two more. “What now,” I asked—“What now,” quoth the father, “why go after more to be sure.” So we did, the dogs ahead, and I far behind. In a short time the curs treed another, and when we came up, we found them seated on their haunches, looking upwards, and barking. The hunters now employed their axes, and sent the chips about at such a rate that one of them coming in contact with my cheek marked it so, that a week after several of my friends asked me where, in the name of wonder, I had got that black eye. At length the tree began to crack, and slowly leaning to one side, the heavy mass swung rustling through the air, and fell to the earth with a crash. It was not one coon that was surprised here, but three—aye three of them, one of which, more crafty than the rest, leaped fairly from the main top while the tree was staggering. The other two stuck to the hollow of a branch, from which they were soon driven by one of the dogs. Tyke and Lion having nosed the cunning old one, scampered after him, not mouthing like the well-trained hounds of our southern fox hunters, but yelling like furies. The hunter’s sons attacked those on the tree, while the woodsman and I, preceded by Toby, made after the other; and busy enough we all were. Our animal was of extraordinary size, and after some parley, a rifle ball was sent through his brain. He reeled once only,—next moment he lay dead. The rest were dispatched by the axe and the club, for a shot in those days was too valuable to be spent when it could be saved. It could procure a deer, and therefore was worth more than a coon’s skin.

Now, look at the moon! how full and clear has she risen on the Racoon hunters! Now is the time for sport! Onward we go, one following the long shadow of his precursor. The twigs are no impediment, and we move at a brisker pace, as we return to the hills. What a hue and cry!—here are the dogs. Overhead and all around, on the forks of each tree, the hunter’s keen eye searches for something round, which is likely to prove a coiled up Racoon. There’s one! Between me and the moon I spied the cunning thing crouched in silence. After taking aim, I raise my barrel ever so little, the trigger is pressed; down falls the Racoon to the ground. Another and another are on the same tree. Off goes a bullet, then a second; and we secure the prey. “Let us go home, stranger,” says the woodsman; and contented with our sport, towards his cabin we trudge. On arriving there, we find a cheerful fire. Toby stays without, prepares the game, stretches the skins on a frame of cane, and washes the bodies. The table is already set; the cake and the potatoes are all well done; four bowls of butter-milk are ranged in order; and now the hunters fall to.

The Racoon is a cunning animal, and makes a pleasant pet. Monkey-like, it is quite dexterous in the use of its fore feet, and it will amble after its master, in the manner of a bear, and even follow him into the street. It is fond of eggs, but prefers them raw, and it matters not whether it be morning, noon, or night, when it finds a dozen in the pheasant’s nest, or one placed in your pocket to please him. He knows the habits of mussels better than most conchologists. Being an expert climber, he ascends to the hole of the woodpecker, and devours the young birds. He knows, too, how to watch the soft-shelled turtle’s crawl, and, better still, how to dig up her eggs. Now by the edge of the pond, grimalkin-like, he lies seemingly asleep, until the summer-duck comes within reach. No Negro knows better when the corn is juicy and pleasant to eat; and although squirrels and woodpeckers know this too, the Racoon is found in the corn-field longer in the season than any of them, the havock he commits there amounting to a tithe. His fur is good in winter, and many think his flesh good also; but for my part I prefer a live Racoon to a dead one, and should find more pleasure in hunting one than in eating him.

THE LONG-BILLED CURLEW.

Numenius longirostris, Wils.
PLATE CCXXXI. Male and Female.

The Long-billed Curlew is a constant resident in the southern districts of the United States, whereas the other species are only autumnal and winter visitors. It is well known by the inhabitants of Charleston that it breeds on the islands on the coast of South Carolina; and my friend the Reverend John Bachman has been at their breeding grounds. That some individuals go far north to breed, is possible enough, but we have no authentic account of such an occurrence, although many suppositions have been recorded. All that I have to say on this subject is, that the bird in question is quite unknown in the Magdeleine Islands, where, notwithstanding the assertions of the fishermen, they acknowledged that they had mistaken Godwits for Curlews. In Newfoundland, I met with a well-informed English gentleman, who had resided in that island upwards of twenty years, and described the Common Curlew of Europe with accuracy, but who assured me that he had observed only two species of Curlew there, one about the size of the Whimbrel—the Numenius hudsonicus, the other smaller—the N. borealis, and that only in August and the beginning of September, when they spend a few days in that country, feed on berries, and then retire southward. Mr Jones of Labrador, and his brother-in-law, who is a Scotch gentleman, a scholar, and a sportsman, gave me the same account. None of my party observed an individual of the species in the course of our three months’ stay in the country, although we saw great numbers of the true Esquimaux Curlew, N. borealis. Yet I would not have you to suppose that I do not give credit to the reports of some travellers, who have said that the Long-billed Curlew is found in the fur countries during summer. This may be true enough; but none of the great northern travellers, such as Richardson, Ross, Parry, or Franklin, have asserted this as a fact. Therefore if the bird of which I speak has been seen far north, it was in all probability a few stragglers that had perhaps been enticed to follow some other species. I am well aware of the propensity it has to ramble, as I have shot some in Missouri, Indiana, Kentucky, Arkansas, and Mississippi; but the birds thus obtained were rare in those districts, where the species only appears at remote periods; and in every instance of the kind I have found the individuals much less shy than usual, and apparently more perplexed than frightened by the sight of man.

Until my learned friend, Prince Charles Bonaparte, corrected the errors which had been made respecting the Curlews of North America, hardly one of these birds was known from another by any naturalist, American or European. To Wilson, however, is due the merit of having first published an account of the Long-billed Curlew as a species distinct from the Common Curlew of Europe.

This bird is the largest of the genus found in North America. The great length of its bill is of itself sufficient to distinguish it from every other. The bill, however, in all the species, differs greatly, according to the age of the individual, and in the present Curlew I have seen it in some birds nearly three inches shorter than in others, although all were full grown. In many of its habits, the Long-billed Curlew is closely allied to the smaller species of Ibis; its flight and manner of feeding are similar, and it has the same number of eggs. Unlike the Ibis, however, which always breeds on trees, and forms a large nest, the Curlew breeds on the ground, forming a scanty receptacle for its eggs; yet, according to my friend Bachman, the latter, like the former, places its nests “so close together, that it is almost impossible for a man to walk between them, without injuring the eggs.”

The Long-billed Curlew spends the day in the sea-marshes, from which it returns at the approach of night, to the sandy beaches of the sea-shores, where it rests until dawn. As the sun sinks beneath the horizon, the Curlews rise from their feeding-grounds in small parties, seldom exceeding fifteen or twenty, and more usually composed of only five or six individuals. The flocks enlarge, however, as they proceed, and in the course of an hour or so the number of birds that collect in the place selected for their nightly retreat, sometimes amounts to several thousands. As it was my good fortune to witness their departures and arrivals, in the company of my friend Bachman, I will here describe them.

Accompanied by several friends, I left Charleston one beautiful morning, the 10th of November 1831, with a view to visit Cole’s Island, about twenty miles distant. Our crew was good, and although our pilot knew but little of the cuttings in and out of the numerous inlets and channels in our way, we reached the island about noon. After shooting various birds, examining the island, and depositing our provisions in a small summer habitation then untenanted, we separated; some of the servants went off to fish, others to gather oysters, and the gunners placed themselves in readiness for the arrival of the Curlews. The sun at length sunk beneath the water-line that here formed the horizon; and we saw the birds making their first appearance. They were in small parties of two, three, or five, and by no means shy. These seemed to be the birds which we had observed near the salt-marshes, as we were on our way. As the twilight became darker the number of Curlews increased, and the flocks approached in quicker succession, until they appeared to form a continuous procession, moving not in lines, one after another, but in an extended mass, and with considerable regularity, at a height of not more than thirty yards, the individuals being a few feet apart. Not a single note or cry was heard as they advanced. They moved for ten or more yards with regular flappings, and then sailed for a few seconds, as is invariably the mode of flight of this species, their long bills and legs stretched out to their full extent. They flew directly towards their place of rest, called the “Bird Banks,” and were seen to alight without performing any of the evolutions which they exhibit when at their feeding-places, for they had not been disturbed that season. But when we followed them to the Bird Banks, which are sandy islands of small extent, the moment they saw us land the congregated flocks, probably amounting to several thousand individuals all standing close together, rose at once, performed a few evolutions in perfect silence, and re-alighted as if with one accord on the extreme margins of the sand-bank close to tremendous breakers. It was now dark, and we left the place, although some flocks were still arriving. The next morning we returned a little before day; but again as we landed, they all rose a few yards in the air, separated into numerous parties, and dispersing in various directions, flew off towards their feeding-grounds, keeping low over the waters, until they reached the shores, when they ascended to the height of about a hundred yards, and soon disappeared.

Now, Reader, allow me to say a few words respecting our lodgings. Fish, fowl, and oysters had been procured in abundance; and besides these delicacies, we had taken with us from Charleston some steaks of beef, and a sufficiency of good beverage. But we had no cook, save your humble servant. A blazing fire warmed and lighted our only apartment. The oysters and fish were thrown on the hot embers; the steaks we stuck on sticks in front of them; and ere long every one felt perfectly contented. It is true we had forgotten to bring salt with us; but I soon proved to my merry companions that hunters can find a good substitute in their powder-flasks. Our salt on this occasion was gunpowder, as it has been with me many a time; and to our keen appetites, the steaks thus salted were quite as savoury as any of us ever found the best cooked at home. Our fingers and mouths, no doubt, bore marks of the “villanous saltpetre,” or rather of the charcoal with which it was mixed, for plates or forks we had none; but this only increased our mirth. Supper over, we spread out our blankets on the log floor, extended ourselves on them with our feet towards the fire, and our arms under our heads for pillows. I need not tell you how soundly we slept.

The Long-billed Curlews are in general easily shot, but take a good charge. So long as life remains in them, they skulk off among the thickest plants, remaining perfectly silent. Should they fall on the water, they swim towards the shore. The birds that may have been in company with a wounded one fly off uttering a few loud whistling notes. In this respect, the species differs from all the others, which commonly remain and fly about you. When on land, they are extremely wary; and unless the plants are high, and you can conceal yourself from them, it is very difficult to get near enough. Some one of the flock, acting as sentinel, raises his wings, as if about to fly, and sounds a note of alarm, on which they all raise their wings, close them again, give over feeding, and watch all your motions. At times a single step made by you beyond a certain distance is quite enough to raise them, and the moment it takes place, they all scream and fly off. You need not follow the flock. The best mode of shooting them is to watch their course for several evenings in succession; for after having chosen a resting place, they are sure to return to it by the same route, until greatly annoyed.

The food of the Long-billed Curlews consists principally of the small crabs called fiddlers, which they seize by running after them, or by pulling them out of their burrows. They probe the wet sand to the full length of their bill, in quest of sea-worms and other animals. They are also fond of small salt-water shell-fish, insects, and worms of any kind; but I have never seen them searching for berries on elevated lands, as the Esquimaux Curlews are wont to do. Their flesh is by no means so delicate as that of the species just mentioned, for it has usually a fishy taste, and is rarely tender, although many persons consider it good. They are sold at all seasons in the markets of Charleston, at about twenty-five cents the pair.

Rambling birds of this species are sometimes seen as far as the neighbourhood of Boston; for my learned friend Thomas Nuttall says in his Manual, that “they get so remarkably fat, at times, as to burst the skin in falling to the ground, and are then superior in flavour to almost any other game bird of the season. In the market of Boston, they are seen as early as the 8th of August.” I found them rather rare in East Florida in winter and spring. They were there seen either on large savannahs, or along the sea shore, mixed with marbled Godwits, Tell-tales, and other species.

Numenius longirostris, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 314.—Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 376.

Long-billed Curlew, Numenius longirostris, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 23. pl. 64. fig. 1. adult.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 94.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXXI. Fig. 1.

Bill excessively elongated, being more than four times the length of head, very slender, subcylindrical, slightly compressed, nearly straight to the middle, beyond which it is slightly curved. Upper mandible with the ridge broad and flat at the base, broad and rounded in the rest of its extent, a deep groove running from the nostrils to near the tip, which is decurved, enlarged so as to form an oblong obtuse knob, projecting beyond the point of the lower mandible, the edges rounded, the inner surface with a deep narrow groove. Nostrils basal, lateral, longitudinal, linear, pervious. Lower mandible similar in its curvature to the upper, its angle extremely narrow, and extending to near the middle, the ridge rounded, the sides with a shallow groove to near the end, the edges directly meeting those of the upper mandible, the tip obtuse.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck long and slender. Body rather slender. Feet long and rather stout. Toes rather small, scutellate above; first very small, second and fourth about equal, third considerably longer, flat beneath and broadly marginate, the three anterior connected by short webs, of which the outer is much larger. Bare part of tibia covered with transverse series of angular scales, as is the upper part of the tarsus, its lower two-thirds with scutella in front. Claws small, compressed, blunt, that of middle toe largest, curved outwards, with a sharp dilated inner edge.

Plumage soft and blended, on the fore part of the head very short. Wings long, very acute, narrow, the first quill longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries of moderate length, slightly incurved, narrowly rounded, some of the inner greatly elongated and tapering. Tail short, much rounded, of twelve rounded feathers.

Upper mandible of a rich deep brown in its whole extent, as is the lower in its terminal half, its basal portion being flesh colour tinged with brown. Iris hazel. Feet light greyish-blue; claws dusky. The ground colour of the plumage is light yellowish-red; the head marked with oblong spots, the back with spots and bars of brownish-black. Alula and outer webs of first four quills deep brown, the rest of the quills of the general colour, barred on both webs with dark brown, as are the tail feathers. Chin or upper part of throat white, as is the lower eyelid; neck marked with longitudinal lines of brownish-black; sides barred with the same, as are the lower larger wing-coverts; the rest of the lower parts unspotted, the sides and under wing-coverts of a richer yellowish-red than the rest.

Length to end of tail 26 inches, to end of wings 25, to end of claws 29; extent of wings 40; wing from flexure 11 1/2; tail 4 1/4; bill along the back 8 1/2; along the edge of lower mandible 8; bare part of tibia 2; tarsus 3 7/12; middle toe 1 10/12 its claw 3 1/2/12. Weight 1 3/4 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXXI. Fig. 2.

The Female cannot be distinguished from the Male by external appearance.

The bill varies in length from 7 to 9 inches. It has been remarked that the tarsus of this species is scutellate anteriorly in its whole length, whereas that of N. arquata is scutellate on its lower half only; but this is incorrect; for both species have transverse series of small scales on the upper third of the tarsus.

THE HOODED MERGANSER.

Mergus cucullatus, Linn.
PLATE CCXXXII. Male and Female.

Excepting the Smew or White Nun, the Hooded Merganser is the handsomest of its family. Its broad and rounded crest of pure white, with an edging of jetty black, and which it closes or spreads out at pleasure, renders the male of this species conspicuous on the waters to which it resorts. The activity of its motions, the rapidity of its flight, and its other habits, contribute to render it a pleasing object to the student of nature, not less than to the sportsman. Its flesh, however, has a fishy taste and odour, although it is relished by some persons. It seems to prefer fresh water, and is by no means very frequent along the sea coast. Long, narrow, and moderately deep creeks, or small ponds, are more frequented by it than large rivers or lakes.

On the waters of the Western and Southern States, these Mergansers are seen to arrive from the north early in October, but generally later than many species of Ducks, although sooner than either the Red-breasted Merganser or the Goosander. At the approach of night, a person standing still on the banks of such a river as the Ohio, first hears the well-known sound of wings whistling through the air, presently after, a different noise, as if produced by an eagle stooping on her prey, when gliding downwards with the rapidity of an arrow, he dimly perceives the Hooded Mergansers sweeping past. Five or six, perhaps ten, there are; with quick beats of their pinions, they fly low over the waters in wide circles. Now they have spied the entrance of a creek; there they shoot into it, and in a few seconds you hear the rushing noise which they make as they alight on the bosom of the still pool. How often have I enjoyed such scenes, when enticed abroad by the clear light of the silvery moon, I have wandered on the shores of la belle rivière, to indulge in the contemplation of nature!

Up the creek the Mergansers proceed, washing their bodies by short plunges, and splashing up the water about them. Then they plume themselves, and anoint their feathers, now and then emitting a low grunting note of pleasure. And now they dive in search of minnows, which they find in abundance, and which no doubt prove delicious food to the hungry travellers. At length, having satisfied their appetite, they rise on wing, fly low over the creek with almost incredible velocity, return to the broad stream, rove along its margin until they meet with a clean sand-beach, where they alight, and where, secure from danger, they repose until the return of day. A sly Racoon may, when in search of mussels, chance to meet with the sleeping birds, and surprise one of them; but this rarely happens, for they are as wary and vigilant as their enemy is cunning, and were the prowler to depend upon Hooded Mergansers for food, he would be lean enough.

This bird ranges throughout the United States during winter, content with the food it meets with in the bays and estuaries of the eastern coast, and on the inland streams. The dam of the Pennsylvania miller is as agreeable to it as that of the Carolina rice-planter. The Le High and Brandy-wine Creek have their fishes, as well as the waters of Bear Grass or Bayou Sara. Nay, the numerous streams and pools of the interior of the Floridas are resorted to by this species, and there I have found them full of life and gaiety, as well as on the Missouri, and on our great lakes. When the weather proves too cold for them they move southwards many of them removing towards Mexico.

The Hooded Merganser is a most expert diver, and so vigilant that at times it escapes even from the best percussion gun. As to shooting at it with a flint lock, you may save yourself the trouble unless you prevent it from seeing the flash of the pan. If you wound one, never follow it: the bird, when its strength is almost exhausted, immerses its body, raises the point of its bill above the surface, and in this manner makes its way among the plants, until finding some safe retreat along the shore, it betakes itself to it, and there remains, so that you may search for it in vain, unless you have a good dog. Even on wing it is not easily shot. If on a creek ever so narrow, it will fly directly towards its mouth, although you may be standing knee-deep in the middle. It comes up like a ball, rises and passes over head with astonishing speed, and if you shoot at it, do not calculate upon a hit. You may guess how many one may shoot in a day.

When I removed from Pennsylvania to Kentucky, the Hooded Merganser was not uncommon in the neighbourhood of Louisville during summer, and I told Wilson so. On several occasions I caught the young with a partridge net; and let me assure you, Reader, that they are not yellow, as is alleged by some writers, but very dark brown. Even when feathered they retain the same colour until the beginning of August, when they gradually change it for the dress of the adult female.

Like all the rest of the tribe, which, when far north, for the want of hollow trees, breed on the moss or ground, the Hooded Mergansers that remain with us nestle in the same kind of holes or hollows as the Wood Ducks; at least I have found their nests in such situations seven or eight times, although I never saw one of them alight on the branch of a tree, as the birds just mentioned are wont to do. They dive as it were directly into their wooden burrows, where on a few dried weeds and feathers of different kinds, with a small quantity of down from the breast of the female, the eggs are deposited. They are from five to eight, measure one inch and three-fourths by one and three-eighths, and in other respects perfectly resemble those of the Red-breasted Merganser.

The young, like those of the Wood Duck, are conveyed to the water by their mother, who carries them gently in her bill; for the male takes no part in providing for his offspring, but abandons his mate as soon as incubation has commenced. The affectionate mother leads her young among the tall rank grasses which fill the shallow pools or the borders of creeks, and teaches them to procure snails, tadpoles, and insects. The eggs are laid in May, and the young are out some time in June. On two occasions the parents would not abandon the young, although I expected that the noises which I made would have induced them to do so: they both followed their offspring into the net which I had set for them. The young all died in two days, when I restored the old birds to liberty.

The Hooded Merganser, as well as all the other species with which I am acquainted, moves with ease on the ground, nay even runs with speed. Those which leave the United States, take their departure from the first of March to the middle of May; and I am induced to believe that probably one-third of them tarry for the purpose of breeding on the margins of several of our great lakes. When migrating, they fly at a great height, in small loose flocks, without any regard to order. Their notes consist of a kind of rough grunt, variously modulated, but by no means musical, and resembling the syllables croo, croo, crooh. The female repeats it six or seven times in succession, when she sees her young in danger. The same noise is made by the male, either when courting on the water, or as he passes on wing near the hole where the female is laying one of her eggs.

The males do not acquire the full beauty of their plumage until the third spring, but resemble the females for the first year. In the course of the second, the crest becomes more developed, and the white and black markings about the head and body are more distinct. The third spring they are complete, such as you see the bird represented in the plate.

Mergus cucullatus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 207.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 830.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 397.

Hooded Merganser, Mergus cucullatus, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 463.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 465.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXXII. Fig. 1.

Bill about the length of the head, straight, somewhat cylindrical, deeper than broad at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal outline sloping gently to the middle, then straight, along the unguis curved, the ridge broad at the base, then convex, the sides sloping at the base, convex towards the end, the edges serrated beneath, with twenty-five tooth-like lamellæ directed backwards, the unguis oblong, much curved, rounded at the end. Nasal groove oblong, subbasal, filled by a soft membrane; nostrils linear-elliptical, submedial, direct, pervious. Lower mandible, with the angle very narrow and extended to the roundish unguis, the sides rounded, with a long narrow groove, the edges with about twenty-five lamellæ.

Head of moderate size, compressed, oblong. Neck rather short, body full and depressed. Wings small. Feet placed far behind, extremely short; tibia bare for a short space above the joint; tarsus extremely short, compressed, anteriorly covered with scutella, and another row on the lower half externally, the sides reticulate. Hind toe very small, with an inferior free membrane; anterior toes double the length of the tarsus; second shorter than fourth, which is nearly as long as the third, all connected by reticulated webs, of which the outer is deeply cut; the outer toe slightly margined, the inner with a broad marginal membrane. Claws short, considerably curved, compressed, acute, that of the middle toe with a thin inner edge.

Plumage on the upper parts strong and imbricated, on the lower blended and glossed; on the head and neck soft and blended, the feathers of the upper part of the head elongated and capable of being erected into a long compressed rounded crest, those of the shoulders very broad and elongated. Wings very short, small, curved, and pointed; primaries narrow, tapering, the first scarcely shorter than second, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries short, narrow, rounded, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail short, graduated, of sixteen rounded feathers.

Bill black. Iris yellow. Feet yellowish-brown; claws dusky. Upper part of the head, back, smaller wing-coverts, quills and tail, brownish-black; sides of the head, upper half of neck all round, the broad extremities of the large feathers on the shoulders, the scapulars, inner secondaries, and larger wing-coverts, greenish-black. A broad patch of white behind the eye, very conspicuous in the erected crest. Lower part of neck and breast also white, as are the speculum and the central part of the inner secondaries. Sides beautifully marked with undulated transverse lines of yellowish-brown and brownish-black; lower tail-coverts whitish, similarly undulated.

Length to end of tail 19 inches, to end of wings 16 3/4, to end of claws 18; extent of wings 26; wing from flexure 7 1/2; tail 4; bill along the ridge 1 11/12, along the edge of lower mandible 1 3/4; tarsus 1 1/4, middle toe 1 9 1/2/12, its claw 1/4. Weight 1 lb. 7 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXXII. Fig. 2.

The female is much smaller than the male. The crest is smaller and of a looser texture; the feathers of the shoulders not so large; those of the sides shorter and more compact. The bill is brownish-black towards the end and along the ridge, orange towards the base. The upper part of the head, including the crest, yellowish-brown; chin whitish, upper part of neck and sides of the head greyish-brown. The general colour of the back, upper surface of wings, tail, and sides, is blackish-brown, the feathers edged with paler, the edgings of the fore part of the back and shoulders larger and pale greyish-brown; speculum greyish-white; breast and abdomen pale yellowish-brown.

Length to end of tail 17 1/2 inches, to end of claws 16 1/2; extent of wings 24. Weight 1 lb.

The Young resemble the female. The young males after their first moult still resemble the female, but have the speculum and lower parts pure white.

THE SORA RAIL.

Rallus carolinus, Linn.
PLATE CCXXXIII. Male, Female, and Young.

Not many years have elapsed since it was supposed by some of the inhabitants of those districts to which thousands of this species of Rail resort at particular periods, that the Soras buried themselves in the mud at the approach of cold weather, for the purpose of there spending the winter in a state of torpidity. Many wonderful tales were circulated to convince the world of the truth of this alleged phenomenon; but the fact was, as you will naturally anticipate, that the birds merely shifted their quarters, as no doubt they will continue to do, so long as the climate becomes too cold for them in winter. Prior to the days of Wilson, very little indeed had been published respecting the habits of our birds. Superstitious notions and absurd fancies occupied the place of accurate knowledge in the minds of people too earnestly engaged in more important pursuits, to attend to the history of the animals around them; and with respect to the Sora in particular, I have no doubt that the settlers in our original forests cared very little about them, farther than that, when well cooked, they afforded a very savoury dish. Now, however, the case is very different. Many of the enterprising and industrious sons of Columbia have attained affluence and ease, and their children receive a liberal education. The sciences and arts, those attendants on peaceful commerce, are now sources of pleasure to many of our citizens, and at the present day there are not a few individuals among us, devotedly engaged in the pursuit of zoology in all its branches. So rapid has been the progress of ornithology in particular, that I should hesitate before asserting that any American, however uncultured, now believes that Rails burrow in the mud.

Those who have studied the habits of our birds, or of those of any part of the world, no longer admit that Swallows are condemned to search for warmth under the ice; for we have proofs that these birds can with ease obtain all that is necessary for their comfortable subsistence, by removing on wing to a warmer region. The Soras and many other species of birds are similar in this respect to the Swallows. The Vulture that was supposed to scent his food from afar, has well nigh lost his olfactory powers. Geese are no longer the offspring of sea-shells; nor do Swans now chaunt their own requiem. The Pelican, too, has ceased to tear its own breast to gorge its voracious young. Students of nature have gradually rectified the various errors into which our ancestors had fallen; and we should now just as readily expect to see a shoal of fishes issuing from beneath the plough, as to see a flock of Rails emerge from the mud, shake themselves, and fly off. This subject, then, being disposed of, I have now to relate to you the result of my observations on the habits of the Sora.

This bird, which I think might have been named the Pennsylvanian or Virginian Rail, enters the Union from the shores of Mexico, early in March, when many are to be seen in the markets of New Orleans. Some reach their northern destination by ascending along the margins of our western streams, or by crossing the country directly, in the manner of the Woodcock; while those which proceed along the coast shorten their journey as much as possible by flying across the headlands of the numerous inlets or bays of our southern districts, retiring or advancing more slowly according to the state of the weather. Thus, those which cross the peninsula of Florida, through the marshes and lagoons that lead to the head waters of the St John’s River, instead of travelling round the shores of Georgia and South Carolina, fly directly across towards Cape Lookout. It it nevertheless true, that a certain number of these birds follow the sinuosities of the shores, for I found some in the markets of Charleston, in the month of April, that had been killed in the immediate neighbourhood of that city, and I obtained others in various parts; but the number of these is very small compared with that of those which cross at once. When their passage takes place, either during calm weather or with a favourable wind, the fortunate travellers pursue their journey by entering Pimlico Sound, and following the inner margins of the outward banks of this part of the coast until they reach Cape Henry. From thence some ascend the Chesapeake, while others make for the mouth of the Delaware, and these perhaps again meet on the borders of Lake Ontario, or the waters of the St Lawrence, after which they soon enter those portions of the country in which they breed, and spend a short but agreeable season.

Every person acquainted with the general movements of birds either during spring, when they pass northwards, or the autumnal months, when they are on their way to milder climes, is aware that, at the former period, their anxiety to reach the place of breeding is much greater than that which they feel at any other period. Thus, in its movement southward, the Sora, like all other Rails, when returning with its progeny, which are yet feeble and unable to undergo much fatigue, proceeds considerably slower than in spring. Hence its appearance in autumn, in multitudes, in various places, where it is enticed by an abundance of food and comparative security, to tarry for some time, and recruit its strength. Thus, in September and part of October, the Sora is found in great numbers on the borders of our great lakes, feeding on wild oats, and on the reedy margins of the rivers of our Middle Districts. Several natural causes prevent birds of this species from following the sea-coast of the United States, while migrating either in spring or in autumn, the principal of which is the absence there of their favourite Zizania marshes, which are but very rarely met with to the east of the State of New York. This is probably the cause of the great rarity of this species in Massachusetts, whilst, so far as I know, none are ever found to the eastward of that State. These observations are corroborated by those of my friend Thomas MacCulloch of Pictou, who never met with one of these birds during many years’ residence in that part of Nova Scotia.

Having seen flocks of Soras winging their way close over the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and between Cape Florida and the main shores of the Carolinas, in the month of April, when they were moving directly towards Cape Lookout, I have very little doubt that many return in the same track, in the end of October, when the young, well fed and strengthened, are able to follow their parents on wing, even across that large extent of water. I shall now dismiss this part of the subject, by adding, in confirmation of their capability of protracted flight, that some of these birds, when accidentally separated from their flock, have supported themselves on wing until they have met with vessels several hundred miles from land; and facts of this kind have been announced by persons of well known respectability.

During the autumnal months, a goodly number of Soras are found in the rice-fields and fresh-water marshes of the Carolinas. Sometimes also they have been shot in salt-water marshes, in spring, while on their northward migration. At this period they are very silent, until forced to fly. In those States none are seen during summer. Very few, it appears, remain in any part of the Middle Districts. My friend John Bachman, however, was shewn some eggs of this bird, that had been found in the meadows below Philadelphia; and whilst I was in the company of my friend Edward Harris, Esq. on a woodcock shooting expedition, my son shot some young birds scarcely fledged, and shortly afterwards an adult female. John Bachman met with a nest on the shore of the Hudson, and I saw two in the marshes of Lake Champlain.

Fond of concealment, as all its tribe are, the Sora is rarely seen during day, although, being seminocturnal, it skulks amid the tall reeds or grasses, both by day and at night, in search of its food. Differing, however, in habit, as well as in form, from the Gallinules, it rarely abandons the retreats which it has chosen after the breeding season, and rises, when forced by tides, to the tops of the plants about it, climbing along or clinging to their stalks or leaves, with as much ease as it walks on the floating garbage, when persons in boats can see them without any difficulty. Whenever these occurrences take place, and the country around is thickly peopled, great havock is made among them. This particularly happens on the James and Delaware rivers, where thousands are annually destroyed during their autumnal stay. The sport of shooting Soras is much akin to that of shooting Clapper Rails, or Salt-Water-Marsh-Hens, which I have already described. But Wilson having given an account of it, as pursued when Soras were much more abundant than I ever saw them, I shall transcribe his description of the manner adopted by the sportsmen on the Delaware.

“The usual method of shooting them, in this quarter of the country, is as follows:—The sportsman furnishes himself with a light batteau, and a stout experienced boatman, with a pole of twelve or fifteen feet long, thickened at the lower end to prevent it from sinking too deep into the mud. About two hours or so before high water, they enter the reeds, and each takes his post, the sportsman standing in the bow ready for action, the boatman, on the stern seat, pushing her steadily through the reeds. The Rail generally spring singly, as the boat advances, and at a short distance ahead, are instantly shot down, while the boatman, keeping his eye on the spot where the bird fell, directs the boat forward, and picks it up as the gunner is loading. It is also the boatman’s business to keep a sharp look-out, and give the word ‘mark!’ when a Rail springs on either side without being observed by the sportsman, and to note the exact spot where it falls until he has picked it up; for this once lost sight of, owing to the sameness in the appearance of the reeds, is seldom found again. In this manner the boat moves steadily through and over the reeds, the birds flushing and falling, the gunner loading and firing, while the boatman is pushing and picking up. The sport continues till an hour or two after high water, when the shallowness of the water, and the strength and weight of the floating reeds, as also the backwardness of the game to spring as the tide decreases, oblige them to return. Several boats are sometimes within a short distance of each other, and a perpetual cracking of musketry prevails along the whole reedy shores of the river. In these excursions it is not uncommon for an active and expert marksman to kill ten or twelve dozen in a tide. They are usually shot singly, though I have known five killed at one discharge of a double-barrelled piece. These instances, however, are rare.”