Plate XXI.—AIX SPONSA, (Linn.) Boie.—Wood Duck; Summer Duck.
The Wood Duck, appropriately so named because it breeds in trees, surpasses in elegance of plumage and gracefulness of action all North American birds of its family. Although known by the name of Summer Duck, from the fact of its remaining with us during the entire hot season, and not journeying to the cold regions of the North as many of its brethren are wont to do, it is however more commonly designated by the former appellation. Few species are more highly esteemed by lovers of the beautiful in Nature than this, and, where obtainable, it is one of the first that finds its way into the private collection of the amateur naturalist. But by epicures, it is considered as of rather inferior standing, lacking the delicacy of flesh which makes the Green-winged Teal and others of such immense gastronomic value.
Although truly an American species, it is more generally found throughout the United States than any other, nesting wherever suitable localities present themselves. North of the Potomac, and in the various States situated above the parallel which cuts its head-waters, at least so far as the country east of the Rocky Mountains is concerned, it is chiefly a migrant, arriving towards the latter part of March, or the beginning of April. South of this line, from Maryland to Florida, and in a southwesterly direction through the Gulf States into Mexico, the birds are found in more or less abundance during the entire year.
In the South Atlantic and Gulf States, they generally pair, we are told, about the first of March, but in New England and the Middle States, in favorable seasons, from the first to the fifteenth of April, perhaps later; and in the country bordering on the Great Lakes, about the last of May or the beginning of June. In Iowa, and other Western States of the same latitude, from the fifteenth to the last of May.
Upon its arrival in our Northern States, remarkable to say, unlike many of its numerous family connections, it seldom frequents the seashore, or the adjoining salt marshes, but manifests a predilection for the ponds, mill-dams, and deep muddy streams of the interior. The same is true of its more southern breeding-grounds along creeks and bayous of the land where the orange and palmetto charm the eye with perennial verdure.
During the interval of time between the appearance of these birds and the renewal of their ancient vows at the accustomed trysting-place, the sexes consort together in ever-varying flocks of fours or more, but never in very large numbers, and fatten on acorns, the seeds of the wild oats, and such insects as they can procure from the tree-branches, or the muddy margins of the streams and ponds which they frequent.
On each recurrence of the mating season, there is reason for believing that the same couple come together, and pledge anew the sincerity of their fidelity, and the constancy of their affection, unless debarred from so doing by death, or some other of the numerous vicissitudes to which life is prone. The troth-plight being sealed, the happy lovers are not slow in effecting a union. A few reciprocations of love, mutual and sympathetic, and the role is ended. But in cases where the male has lost his partner, doubtless more time is devoted to this important business. Much time is spent in seeking a suitable companion, and even when the seeker is successful in finding one which combines the necessary qualities, no little time is frittered away in rendering himself agreeable to her lady's notions of what a husband should be, for she not unfrequently acts as if she were possessed of some taste and discrimination.
Having settled this important business, the newly-mated couple start off in quest of a spot for the location of a home. In the case of old birds the same locality has been known to be visited for four successive years.
This doubtless is the rule where the birds are permitted to obey their own natural instincts uninterfered with by beast or man. For obvious reasons, these Ducks delight to live in close proximity to bodies of water. Such places afford conveniences to the young when they are sufficiently matured to betake themselves thither. Situations remote from this element entail unnecessary labor upon the female, who is then required, at considerable risk and trouble, to carry them one by one in her bill. When the distance is not too great, and the ground beneath the tree is well covered with dried leaves and grasses, the young scramble to the mouth of the nest, drop themselves down, and under the maternal leadership wend their way to the much-loved fluid. Often the tree or stub which contains their home is found to overshadow the water. All that is necessary then is for the tender creatures after reaching the entrance, to spread their ill-feathered wings and oar-like feet, and fling themselves down. This feat can be performed without jeopardy to life or limb.
The site being agreed upon to the mutual satisfaction of the parties concerned, all that is necessary to be done before going to house-keeping, is to select a place for the nest. For this purpose, almost any tree, or branch thereof, containing the essential hollow, and located reasonably near some stream or expanse of water, can be utilized. According to Audubon, "the holes to which they betake themselves are either over deep swamps, above cane-brakes, or on broken branches of high sycamores, seldom more than forty or fifty feet from the water." Our experience, which is similar to Wilson's, is that these birds do not have a partiality for any particular species. While tree hollows are generally preferred, we have the authority of the illustrious personages whose names we have just cited for saying that such places are not exclusively chosen. The former claims to have met with the home of a pair of these birds in a fissure of a rock, along the Kentucky River, only a few miles from Frankfort; and the latter speaks of having discovered one which was placed in a fork composed of branches, and built out of a few rude sticks. In the South, the forsaken retreat of the Gray Squirrel, or the hole of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, are common nesting-places. Often the entrance to the nest is apparently so small compared with the bulk of the occupant, that it is a matter of surprise to many how she can manage to make her way into it without suffering bodily injuries. But she does, which is proof that she knows either how to conform to circumstances, or else is a better judge of size than many of us would-be-wise lords of creation. All structures which we have examined were generally wide enough at the mouth to admit of easy passage, and were from four to six feet deep. The bottom of the cavity invariably consisted of soft decayed wood, and a few feathers which were doubtless plucked by the bird from her own breast. Besides these articles, other writers have observed dry plants, down, and feathers of the Wild Turkey, Wild Goose, and the common barnyard fowl. The height of the entrance above the ground varies from fifteen to thirty feet, according to our experience. Possibly a less, or even a greater elevation may sometimes be attained.
Wilson speaks of a nest which he observed in an old grotesque white oak. It stood on a slope of one of the banks of the Tuckahoe River, in New Jersey, just twenty yards from the water's edge, and had been occupied for four consecutive years. At the time of his visit it contained thirteen young birds, which the maternal head was engaged in carrying down to the water to give them, perhaps, their first experience in the natatorial art. So carefully, and yet so adroitly and quickly did she perform this seemingly difficult task, that she was less than ten minutes in its accomplishment. Although the male usually stands sentry while the diverse processes of laying and sitting are going on, and signals the approach of enemies by a peculiar cry which has been likened to the crowing of a young cock—oe êêh! oe êêk!—yet from the silence of one writer upon the subject, we infer that the duty of rearing the rather numerous family is left to the mother, her proud and consequential partner, as though disdaining such ignoble and degrading because slavish work, being off with his gay companions, disporting themselves in mid-air, or trimming, while perched upon some sheltering bough, their rich and varied plumage. So intent, however, was the mother-bird upon the faithful discharge of her joyous home-duties, that she heeded not the stately sloop, then nearly completed, as it lay upon the stocks close-by, with its hull looming up within twelve feet of her home, darkened with the presence, and reverberating with the noise of workmen, but continued to pass in and out as though unconscious of the so near approach of danger. Audubon claims that the male deserts the female when the period of sitting commences, and joins his sterner brethren, who unite into flocks of considerable numbers, and keep apart from their partners until the young are fully matured, when young and old of both sexes come together, and thus remain until the return of another breeding-season.
From what has been said above, it must be evident to the reader that the female is wholly concerned with the duties of incubation. For a little more than twenty-one days she is thus occupied, and with nothing to relieve the monotony of her task. How often must she despair, and bewail the hardship of her lot, no mortal knows. But it is the decree of inexorable fate, and most willingly does she bow to it. But the ennui of the labor is in a measure forgotten in the vision which hope holds out to the patient little housewife. Weary, and well-nigh spent of her strength, she persists a little while longer, and her patience and assiduity are rewarded. A whole nest-full of happy ducklings gladden her heart, and send a new thrill through her being. While the hatching process is going on, the loving parent only leaves the nest when pressed by the pangs of hunger, and but for a short time. Before leaving, she always takes the precaution to see that her treasures are carefully covered with down.
The young follow the mother the same as our domesticated species do, and gather whatever of vegetable and insect food they happen to meet with. They are passionately fond of the water, and best show their real nature and disposition when gracefully floating upon its glassy surface, or diving beneath its liquid depths. At an early age they respond to the parent's call with a soft and mellow pee, pee, pee-e, which is uttered quite rapidly, and at repeated intervals. The call of the mother, when addressing the young, at such times, is rather low and soft, and resembles the above sounds, only a little more prolonged.
These beautiful birds have often been domesticated. At such times they become so unsuspicious and familiar as to allow themselves to be stroked upon the back with the hand. Instances are on record. Such being so, what is there to prevent the introduction of them into our yards? Nothing. Then let it be tried. A glance at the picture will show that no handsomer bird could be chosen. Look at the male as he stands upon an embankment on the right of the picture ready at any moment, so it seems, to plunge into the watery fluid below, and tell us if there is anything more beautiful in the world of swimming-birds. We apprehend not. His conspicuous size, some nineteen inches in length, and scope of wing of two and one-third inches, make him a being of no mean proportions. But then it is the richness and variety of his colors that render him an object of attraction. Near the farther shore of the pond, with her shadow reflected in the water, like a thing of grace, floats his loved but less showy companion. She is nearly of the same size as he, but wanting in the same dignity of demeanor. On the other side stands an old tree, festooned with vines, which represents the nest of these birds, with a female just in the act of entering.
The eggs of the Wood Duck range from six to thirteen to a setting. Their shape passes from the ovate form to one that is nearly oval, and, indeed, specimens are often found which are almost perfectly elliptical. Eggs from Massachusetts measure 1.97 by 1.45 inches. Others from Michigan, 2.21 by 1.54; and some from Maine, 2.10 by 1.54. A set of ten from Iowa, but recently received, of a yellowish-white or creamy color, which seems to be the natural hue, are beautifully elliptical in contour, and have an average measurement of 2.08 by 1.59 inches; the largest being 2.19 inches long, and 1.59 wide, and the smallest, 1.96 in length and 1.63 in width.
[Original Size]
Plate XXII.—PSALTRIPARUS MINIMUS, (Townsend) Bonaparte.—Least Tit.
The Least Tit, introduced to the notice of ornithologists by Mr. Townsend in 1837, is exclusively a denizen of the country bordering on the Pacific Ocean. It inhabits the whole region stretching from Fort Steilacoom, in Washington Territory, to Fort Tejon, in California. According to Dr. Garnbel, it is not only abundant throughout California, but is also an occupant of the Rocky Mountains. But as this author wrote at a period anterior to that which marked the separation of this species from its nearest kin—the Plumbeous Tit—it is believed by Dr. Coues that those nice shades of difference which climate or other influences have impressed upon the Rocky Mountain birds were unobserved by him, and that he was thus led to consider the two species identical.
Although these birds have been deemed migratory in Washington Territory, as the writings of Drs. Cooper and Suckley would lead us to infer, yet there is strong evidence for believing that it is not wholly the case. From observations made by Mr. Townsend, we learn that they are quite common during the winter, and may be seen in great numbers hopping around among the bushes, or hanging head downwards from leafless twigs after the fashion of other Titmice. While thus engaged in search of the pupa of insects, they are very reckless, and keep up a continual twittering. Their notes are rapidly enunciated, and have been likened to the words thshish tslmt-tsee-twee, the last two syllables bearing a slight resemblance to the concluding strains of our Eastern Chickadee.
While gleaning for food, these noisy beings go in companies. Troops of fifties and sixties, and some say hundreds, travel through the woods, and make their otherwise cheerless depths resound with din and chatter. Nor do they journey alone, for they are often accompanied by the Kinglets and other kindred species. So intent are they upon the procurement of food at such times, that they seem utterly unconscious of danger. It is not uncommon for a bystander to be so surrounded by one of these flocks as to be almost able to capture the birds with the hand.
Nuttall, in speaking of this species, affirms that it arrives on the banks of the Willamette River, in Oregon, about the fifteenth of May, which would lead one to believe that even in this State it is a migrant. As this date is about the period of breeding in slightly lower latitudes, may not this writer have been somewhat hasty in expressing his opinion? In the East, birds that are reputed permanent residents during mild, open winters, can be seen in moderate abundance in accustomed haunts, and at all times. But let the weather become severe, and there will be a notable scarcity of birds. They do not certainly migrate to warmer regions, but seek hidden recesses or nooks where they can obtain the necessary shelter and protection. A recurrence of warmer days, after a little, soon causes them to return to old, familiar haunts, which could not be, had they journeyed to lower and semi-tropical climes. Perhaps some such event had occurred on the occasion to which Nuttall alludes, or a short time before, or the birds, by reason of a paucity of food-stuffs, may have been forced to move to adjoining localities in the same latitude, and had just returned for purposes of nesting. If such was the case, an eye-witness of the scene would be likely to pronounce it a veritable migration, not knowing the facts.
But whether these birds do actually migrate or not, matters little for present purposes. What concerns us most, is their history at the mating time. Of this we know little. But not unlike their many kin, the desire for food is so strong, that most of the time in early spring is spent in its search. The precarious lives which most migratory birds are-forced to lead during the unprolific season of the year, when the reign of plenty begins, forces them into habits of gormandizing. Life seems to have acquired new zest. The collection of food, and its application to the wants of the body, exercise supreme control, all other considerations being swallowed up thereby. But this cannot last long. Satiety, like pleasure, soon o'erdoes itself, and reason comes to the rescue.
A few weeks of such a life are enough. Grown weary of its monotony, and surfeited with delights, the flocks now dissolve into pairs. All is now a scene of bustle and activity. Actuated by amatory influences, the males seek themselves partners, and matrimonial relations are assumed. There is good reason to believe that mating happens early during some seasons. Dr. Cooper mentions the finding of a nest on the first of March, which would lead us to infer that it had occurred during the preceding month. Finished structures in our collection from Santa Paula, California, which were discovered by Prof. B. W. Evermann, bear the respective dates of April 14 and 17. Making allowances for building, it is probable that the sexes do not pair until the middle or the last of March. Of the precise time we are left in darkness. Nor are we the wiser about the general behavior of the birds, much less those pleasing little episodes of bird-life which are then called into existence.
Having mated, the happy couple start off together in quest of a suitable bush or tree in which to build. The live oak, the willow, occasionally the mistletoe, and perhaps others, are selected. These structures are sometimes suspended from a forked twig, but more generally from a single branch. A remarkable peculiarity about their building is the elevation at which their dwellings are placed. The height varies from four to eight feet, and we cannot find that the latter distance has been exceeded.
Few nests, if any, surpass in beauty and comfort the nest of this species. It is the most artistic of all pensile structures, and resembles an old-fashioned silken purse. In form, texture and finish it is a perfect model of architectural design and skill. When we consider its size, the durability and smoothness of its outside periphery, and coziness of interior, we are lost in wonder and admiration. What ingenuity and perseverance are here displayed! It seems almost impossible that such wee specimens of the feathered creation could have built such a monument. But the naked truth, real and substantial, lies before us. When we contemplate this wonderful work of art, we know not whether to admire most the indefatigable industry of the builders, or their cunning workmanship.
A typical structure before us is closely and evenly woven of slender spears of grass, fine rootlets, fragments of branching and crustaceous lichens, small stems, fibrous rootlets, down, vegetable cotton and mosses. These substances are pretty regularly distributed, like the colors in a carpet, so that the fabric presents uniformity in appearance. The interior is lined with down and other soft vegetable materials, producing thereby a chamber of which the daintiest Sybarite of the palmy days of Magna Græcia would delight to be the proud possessor. Some structures are cozily lined with large masses of feathers, which are made to project from the entrance, and which, in some instances, become a part of the walls of the building itself. Ordinarily, the nest retains the greenish-gray color which the mosses and lichens impart to its exterior, long after it has been detached from its point of suspension. The length of these fabrics varies from six to nine inches. The width is generally three inches, and the thickness of the walls, three-fourths of an inch. Inside, the depth ranges from four to five inches, according to the length of the structure, and width, from seven-eighths to one inch. The entrance is most generally near the top, and measures one inch in diameter. The specimen from which the drawing is made, is six inches long, nearly cylindrical, with rounded extremities, and about three inches in width. The walls are an inch thick, and the opening, which is near the top, is exactly one inch in diameter. For convenience we were compelled to reduce the dimensions, and put it slightly in the background. The female bird, which has a length of 4.30 inches, and an expanse of wings of 2.15, is proportionally diminished, while the male occupies a position in front, and appears with uncurtailed proportions. The nest is represented as hanging from a branch, a species of cherry, which is popularly known as the soft-leaved cherry.
We mention, in this connection, a very fine nest of this species, which has lately come into our possession, through the kindness of Prof. Evermann, of Indiana. This nest was suspended from a branch of the live oak, and was discovered on the fifteenth of April, 1880. It is largely composed of down, grass-stems and spears of the same, lichens, mosses, vegetable down and cotton, on the outside, and is comfortably lined with the down and wool of plants. In structure and composition it resembles all other nests of this species, but differs therefrom in form and dimensions. This beautiful fabric measures twenty-two inches in length, and is somewhat shaped like an elongated spindle. It is three inches wide in the middle, one and a half at the summit, and two and a half at the base. The opening is three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and placed fully five inches from the top of the nest. From the entrance to the bottom of the chamber, the cavity does not perceptibly widen, but maintains the width at the mouth. This affects the thickness of the walls, which is greatest in the middle, and least above. But owing to their elasticity, they can be made to conform to the volume of either occupant. The depth of the cavity is twelve inches. When we consider the size of this nest, it does not seem possible that such diminutive specimens of bird-life could have the enterprise and courage to enter into such a gigantic project, and the patience and perseverance to carry it to completion. Prof. Evermann does not inform us whether it was accomplished by the pair of occupants, or by them with the assistance of others. Even the ordinary structure is so wondrously large compared with the individual bulk of the builders, as to suggest to the mind of Dr. Cooper the possibility of its being the result of the united labors of an entire flock. What would our worthy friend say should he meet with another just like the one we have described? We think he would be inclined to attribute it to the labor of several flocks, or else imagine it the work of supernatural beings. Such disparity as exists between the cyclopean monument before us and the pigmy architects thereof, would almost persuade us to one or the other conclusion.
From information gleaned from the recorded observations of others, and from personal knowledge of closely-related species, we incline to the opinion that these birds manifest a great fondness for their homes, and guard them with the most jealous care. Nuttall makes mention of a circumstance occurring under his notice, which confirms this belief. During one of his excursions, he met with a male-bird, whose overanxiety about the safety of the nest induced him to keep a lookout for anything that might happen. Following his guide, who, though unwilling to expose its whereabouts, was driven to it by an irresistible influence, he came to a low bush, where, dangling from a branch, and only about four feet from the ground, flashed upon his vision the lovely spectacle. It was a beautiful affair, in shape like a long purse, and having a neat circular opening near the top which answered for a doorway. The lint of plants, moss and down entered into its manufacture, and within there was a soft lining of feathers. This nest contained six perfectly white treasures, which were only awaiting the mysterious and miraculous powers of a few more days, perhaps hours, of heat, to transform them into restless, active, yet helpless beings. When a bird is killed, we are told, others will gather around it with manifestations of anxiety, calling plaintively upon it to follow them in their sports and wanderings. So fearless do they become at such times that it is almost possible to take them by the hand. Assuredly, such exhibitions of sorrow and solicitude as we have depicted, are not only to be met with then, but also, to an infinitely greater extent, on those more trying occasions when their homes are about being desecrated and despoiled by sacrilegious hands.
The eggs of the Least Tit are quite small, beautifully oval in shape, and of a pure, unspotted white color. They slightly vary in dimensions. In a set of five which we have before us, the largest measures .57 of an inch in length, and .44 in width; the smallest, .56 by .45 inches. The average measurement is .57 by .44 of an inch. The number of eggs constituting a complement ranges from five to nine. Nothing has been stated in regard to the number of broods annually raised, but it is probable the species is single-brooded.
