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.