Plate XXXIV.—RALLUS VIRGINIANUS, Linn.—Virginia Rail.
Of its delightful winter quarters in the South, and the tropical climes of Guatemala and Cuba with their strange and varied forms of life, this handsome little species takes its adieu when the climate in our northern States warrants such a procedure, and spreads itself across the continent to and slightly beyond our northernmost borders. With the first slight frosts of November it takes its departure, to renew our acquaintance again when the delicate-footed May has returned to beautify the earth. These autumnal migrations are often performed during calm, clear nights, when their cries can be distinctly heard overhead. Persons, while "bobbing" for eels at night, have often been startled from their contemplations by the alighting of Rails in the water close-by, and the din produced as they paddle their way into the adjoining weeds. Their departure is seemingly more sudden than their advent, their appearance in diverse latitudes happening at regular intervals. From their feebleness of wing, it might be conjectured that flight is slow and labored, but experience teaches that it is accomplished with comparative ease and freedom, even in the face of a very strong wind. But these birds are best seen in the exercise of their cursorial powers, which the perfect development of their legs and feet, and the compressed, attenuated shape of the body are admirably adapted to promote. Even the bill, with its sharpened outline, which is wisely formed to cut the opposing air, lends its aid in facilitating advancement.
Along the borders of salt marshes, but generally in fresh-water, it may be fouud upon its arrival. In such places it is a busy gleaner, feeding less upon vegetable, but more upon animal, diet than any of its illustrious congeners. Its bill of fare consists of worms, the larvae of insects, and small shell-fish, which it extracts from the mud, a feat which it most successfully and adroitly accomplishes by means of its great length of bill. This strong partiality to animal diet tends to render its flesh less savory than that of the Carolina Rail whose food is principally the nutritious seeds of various kinds of grasses. In the dexterity with which it conceals itself among the reeds and sedges of its favorite haunts when hunted, and its seeming aversion to flight, it is the exact counterpart of the latter species. In fact there are few traits of character which are not common to them both. When distance intervenes between the observer and either species, it requires considerable judgment to make the necessary discrimination. A little experience, however, soon enables the working naturalist to do so without much difficulty.
While chiefly diurnal in habits, there is good reason for believing all Rails to be partially nocturnal, especially during moonlight nights. At such times they are on the qui vive, and from the tall, motionless bullrushes and reeds among which they harbor, the ear of the nightly pedestrian is startled by the peculiar notes of these birds as they pursue their gastronomic occupations, securely hidden from view by interlacing grasses. The movements of these birds would hardly enable you to locate their presence, so noiselessly are they executed. It is to the loud, lusty crik-crik-rik-k-k-k of some wide-awake fellow as he patrols his favorite marshes that we are apprised of his whereabouts and presence. Instantly the strain is taken up first by one and then another, until the very reeds shake and tremble, as it were, under the impulsive influence. A silence then ensues, which is unbroken save by the heavy croaking of some disconsolate frog as he tunes his pipe to the shrill falsetto of a love-lorn cricket. But the time thus spent is comparatively short. Other considerations demand attention. Scarcely two weeks from the time of their arrival, the males seek out their partners, pledge their troth anew, and lead the way into some bog or morass, where they are not long in making a selection of a suitable spot in which to deposit their nest. In the matter of position the male yields due deference to the judgment of his wife. She having decided upon the spot, which may be either a tussock of grass, the bare ground, or a pile of drift-weed, both birds set assiduously to work to construct their nest. This is merely a pile of weeds or grass, arranged very compactly, but with little display of taste or design, and hollowed out to the depth of an inch and a half by the bodily evolutions of the builders. Occasionally, a ground-floor of coarse grasses is laid, and upon this is reared a superstructure of yellowish grasses, which reminds one of the home which the Bobolink is accustomed to build. A few hours of labor at least are all that are necessary to construct one of these domiciles. Wilson mentions a nest that was placed in the bottom of a tuft of grass, and rendered almost inaccessible by the boggy character of the locality. It was composed entirely of old wet grass and rushes. A north-east storm visiting the spot, and an extraordinary rise of tide following, the eggs were floated out, and lay stranded upon the drift-weed. The female being so strongly attached to her home, still lingered near, and permitted herself to be taken by the hand, without showing so much as the least timidity, much less any exhibition of indignation or disgust.
The number of eggs laid ranges from six to ten. These are deposited in daily instalments of one, the first being usually extruded on the third day subsequent to the completion of the nest. The female takes to the nest almost immediately after the last egg is laid, and continues for a term of fifteen days, when, through her constant, persevering efforts, a little family of children, dressed in suits of blackish down, come forth to gladden the hearts of both parents. The male seems to take no direct part in the incubating process, not even so much as to see that his faithful wife is not in want of food. The care of the young devolves also upon her, and when they are endangered, she manifests the most intense solicitude, and seeks by all the devices known to her nature, to lead them into places of safety. Like many smaller, but more courageous species, she is not known to wage a warfare in their defence, but endeavors by strategy, and at the risk of her own life, to save these jewels of her affection—these pledges of her regard—from the snares of the fowler. As soon as hatched, or shortly afterwards, the young are able to quit the nest, and hide themselves among the grass. Their food consists of worms, insects and seeds of grasses, which they procure in situations which they frequent. In their earliest stage the mother helps them to find the essential articles, pretty much after the fashion of the Quail, but as they grow, her responsibility is in a measure abated, and they are left to their own resources. In about four or five weeks they withdraw themselves from her sheltering care entirely, but continue to dwell in the same haunts until the severity of the weather calls them to warmer climes, when both young and old leave together. Their departure is almost unheralded by vocal manifestions, and is slowly executed, the birds stopping from their migrations, at times, to attend to the demands for food. So the journey often requires a fortnight, and even longer time, for its completion.
With the retiring habits of these birds, and their tendency to settle in almost inaccessible meadows and swamps—the most secluded and farthest recesses of which they seek when approached—it is not surprising that they should be deemed less common than they are in actual reality. When better understood they will be shown to be in other sections as abundant breeders as they are in New England and the Middle Atlantic States. When observed, which is rarely the case, they stand or run with the tail erect. A peculiar jerking of this appendage upwards, is a noticeable feature which gives them a somewhat comical appearance. In flight the legs hang as is usual with waders, and are not tucked up, so to speak, as in the case of our smaller land species. They fly to a short distance, and at the moment of alighting, run off with remarkable speed, a movement which the depending position of the feet enables them to accomplish with comparative ease.
Such is the resemblance which obtains between the eggs of this species and those of the Clapper Rail, that were it not for the much smaller size of the former, they could not be readily discriminated therefrom. In form, color and markings they are such perfect counterparts, that they seem to be the same in miniature. Their form is ovoidal, and they are marked with reddish-brown and obscure spots of lilac, the former predominating, upon a deep buff, or creamy background. They vary somewhat in dimensions, even in specimens from the same locality. In New England eggs are found which range from 1.31 to 1.52 of an inch in length, and from .90 to .95 in width. Others from Pennsylvania have an average measurement of 1.28 by .94; from New Jersey, 1.20 by .95. From the Carolina Rail, which they approach in size, they may be readily distinguished by the color, a fact which all amateurs would do well to bear in mind. A careful observance of the difference in the two grounds, which in the Carolina Rail is a yellow-drab, with a faint olivaceous tinge, will prevent the one from being mistaken for the other. In regard to the number of broods annually raised there may be some difference of opinion. Wilson thought that the species was double-brooded. He was led to this opinion by having come into possession of young birds, a few days old, in the month of July. But these may have been the first hatching of birds whose early efforts had been prevented by tidal overflows, or some other of the numerous disasters, which are the natural concomitants of boggy situations.
The drawing represents a nest of this species, typical in character, and placed in position. The eggs are of the natural size and figured in the foreground, while the birds are diminished and put in the distance. The birds are exhibited in proper colors, and may be easily identified. The upper parts are olivaceous-brown, the monotony of which is relieved by longitudinal stripes of brownish-black. The throat is white, fore-part of the neck and breast bright-rufous, abdomen and under tail coverts transversely banded with black and white, the former being the broader; upper wing coverts bright rufous-chestnut and the under wing coverts with transverse white lines upon a field of black. These sombre colors are rendered less irksome by the presence of a reddish-white line from the base of the bill over the eye, and by the bright-red iris. The female differs but slightly from the male in being slightly shorter, and in having the breast of a paler hue. The white on the chin and the throat appears also to be more conspicuous and fuller. The total length of the male, from tip of bill to extremity of tail, is seven and three-quarter inches; the wing is four, and the tail about one and a half.
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Plate XXXV.—GEOTHLYPIS TRICHAS, (Linn.) Caban.—Maryland Yellow-Throat.
Beautiful, active and intelligent, this species claims superiority over most of its fellows, and is an object of interest and admiration to the enthusiastic student. It should be better known among the masses, as few birds are more sociable and confiding, and, on first appearance, none display stronger attachment to man. It visits his fields and by-ways, in company with the Sparrows, and makes itself at home. But as the season advances, and the time of nesting draws near, such places are forsaken for quieter retreats.
Throughout its extended range, which embraces the whole of the United States from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada and Nova Scotia, and from the Atlantic to the Western Ocean, it displays the same peculiar habits which we observe in Eastern Pennsylvania. It combines the attributes of the Titmice with those of the Flycatchers, moving in and out the foliage and branches of bushes with great dexterity, sometimes hanging from the latter with head downward, in its search for food, or, perched upon a small twig, seizing a passing insect with equal ease and skill. Whilst feeding it is not strictly arboreal. Individuals sometimes betake themselves to the ground, and glean among the dead leaves.
Although occasionally found in cultivated grounds, where its presence is due to the noxious insects which there abound, yet a stronger preference is manifested for wild uncultivated fields, especially such as are overgrown with briers and low bushes. Low lands are more attractive than high, the tendency to humidity always insuring a greater supply of favorite food-stuffs. Its immense service in the destruction of injurious grubs, which contribute largely to its fare, would make it a desirable companion to have about us, but its humble mode of life exposes it to dangers from prowling cats and vicious boys.
When in quest of game its presence is always indicated by the peculiar cry it emits, which resembles that of the Summer Yellow-Bird. These notes are expressed in lively, quick succession, and sound like the syllables wht-whi-ti-têê-têë. In a state of inactivity, a simple twich is all that escapes the hitherto agile creature, and is uttered in such a low voice as to more than half impress the listener that the bird is weary after its long, protracted search, or is verging towards that state when the spirit is well-nigh overcome by sleep. It is during these foraging exploits that our friend's character is seen in its best light. It is not the timid bird that one is disposed to consider it when watching its backward and forward movements among low shrubbery on such occasions. It will permit a near approach by man, even when resting from its labors, and displays not more than half the suspicion which birds ordinarily do.
Like most Warblers, this species regulates its coming, in a measure, by the character of the season. When the spring is early, we have known it to arrive during the last of April. Ordinarily its appearance is noticed from the first to the tenth of May. In California, where the climate is more uniform than in the East, birds have been seen in migration on the seventeenth of April; but in New England, where mild weather is retarded by meteorological causes, their advent does not occur until the beginning of the succeeding month. As is common with most other birds, the sexes do not arrive singly, except in occasional instances, but always in pairs, which seems to warrant the supposition that mating had been solemnized in the land of their winter's sojourn preparatory to leaving.
So little is the attention engrossed-by feeding, that the male does not appear to be utterly unmindful of his partner, as is sometimes the case with other species. Should one or the other stray away, the bird that first becomes apprised of the separation, signals the fact, which is instantly responded to by its companion. Directed by the sounds, they soon come together, and renew operations as before.
A few weeks thus spent suffice to blunt the keen edge of appetite. The male is the first to announce his weariness of such a life. In a few quaint syllables, cognizant to his partner, and perhaps to some of his nearest kin, he states his desire, and awaits her approach. Does she hesitate? In the same lively and pleasing manner he repeats it, this time with greater fullness and variation. Again and again he does the same, and at last his efforts are crowned with success. Pleased with his charming voice, she yields to his pertinacious coaxings, and desists from her labors.
The song of the males, for such naturalists have been pleased to designate the language which the lords of the feathered creation are prone to deliver to their intended partners on certain occasions, bears a strong resemblance at first to the song of the Summer Yellow-Bird. But when at its height, about the fifteenth of May, the likeness is not so marked. It consists merely of a few short syllables, repeated rather quickly but uniformly, and with a loud, clear, distinct and ringing intonation. In syllabic language it may be somewhat accurately represented by têê-whit-ti-têë-whït-t'î-têë-whit-ti.
As fond as this species seems to be of cultivated grounds whilst feeding, we have never known it, from personal observation, to build in similar situations. For purposes of nesting it generally seeks the retirement of woods where there is a dense growth of bushes, or waste fields where brambles are quite abundant. Occasionally the nest occupies the centre of a huge skunk-cabbage, or a tussock of grass, in the midst of a swamp, or alongside of a stream of fresh water. In certain localities moist places are chosen rather than elevated ones. In others the converse is true. Even in the same locality, the birds manifest a preference one year for lowlands, and the very next for those which are high and dry. Perhaps the character of the season does much in rendering these changes necessary. A wet spring, if long and protracted, would, by increasing the amount of water in swampy situations above the average, make them undesirable resorts, and thus drive the birds to the necessity of seeking less humid and less exposed places. At such times, high grounds, by obtaining more than the usual amount of moisture, would become suited to the existence of insects, which form no mean part of their living. In dry seasons, moist localities would be chosen, as they are more advantageously situated for obtaining supplies of food than others.
The nest is almost invariably placed upon the ground, in a thick bed of dry leaves, in a clump of grass, at the roots of low bushes, or under the shelter of a pile of brush, sometimes being covered by surrounding leaves, and quite as often exposed from above. When built directly upon the ground, it occupies a depression thereof; but when built in a tussock, this precaution is not taken, as the necessary security is afforded by the enveloping grasses or sedges. According to Dr. Brewer, nests are occasionally found four or five feet from the ground, among the matted branches of high weeds. A typical nest consists of loose leaves on the outside, which are held in position by the walls of the cavity in which they are placed, or by surrounding grasses. Within is placed a superstructure of dry grasses, twigs, strips of dry bark, and leaves of sedges. The lining consists of fine strips of the bark of the chestnut and wild grape vine, which are arranged with great care and compactness. In depth these structures vary from five to six inches, and have an external diameter of two and a half inches at the base, and three at the mouth. The cavity is usually three inches deep, and about two and a quarter wide. When we come to compare the entire fabric with the size of the builder, we are at a loss to account for the disproportion.
The work of building such a bulky domicile does not fall to the lot of the female solely, but is the result of the combined labor of both birds, who prosecute their task with commendable diligence and patience for a period of five days, when they are rewarded with the sight of a finished home. Nothing now remains to be done but to furnish the capacious apartment with its wee, spotted treasures. This cannot be commenced immediately, as sufficient time must be allowed for the walls to become properly seasoned. Two or three days at the utmost are all that are necessary. On the fourth day the female deposits her first jewel, and, where not interrupted, renews the same duty day by day, until she has furnished her allotted quota. She immediately commences the incubating process, occasionally not before the succeeding day, and for ten long days is thus engaged, when the appearance of the young reminds her that the labor is ended. While thus employed the male, actuated by the purest affection, administers to her necessities with commendable alacrity. He only forsakes her for food. When the nest is assailed, by the most pitiful cries and the practise of various ruses, he endeavors to lead his enemies away from it. His stratagems often succeed with the unsophisticated, but with the professional collector they are of little avail.
The young are carefully nurtured. Their food consists of the larvæ of small beetles, caterpillars of various kinds, and diptera. At the age of twelve days they are able to leave the nest, but remain under parental surveillance for a week longer, when they are obliged to shift for themselves, being permitted, however, to enjoy the society of their parents. Early in September, both young and old take their departure, the greater portion retiring to Mexico, Guatemala and the West Indies, while a few remain along our southern borders.
The plumage of the young bird is brownish-olive above, with a tendency to stronger virescence on the rump and tail. The eyelids and entire lower parts are a light buff, which is relieved by a tinge of yellow on breast and lower tail-coverts. The male in the spring is olive-green, somewhat grayer anteriorly, and has the forehead and a broad band through the eye to the neck a pure black, margined superiorly with grayish-ash. The chin, throat, breast, under tail-coverts and edge of wing bright yellow, passing into whitish in the abdominal region. The wings and tail are slightly olive, and devoid of marks. The bill is black, and the feet flesh-colored. In the female, during the same season, the crown is generally brownish, the black and ash on the head wanting, and the yellow of the under parts pale and restricted. From its congeneric brethren this species differs in the absence of a clear ash upon the throat. Its length is about four and three-fourths inches, wing two and one-fifth, and tail two and three-tenths.
The eggs of the Yellow-Throat range from four to six in number, the complement doubtless depending upon locality, and the peculiarity of the female. In Eastern Pennsylvania, Southern New Jersey and Delaware never more than four have been found in a nest, and this has been the experience of others from even the most widely separated localities. In color the eggs are a beautiful crystalline-white, and are dotted and blotched around the larger extremity with reddish-brown and dark umber. Specimens are often found with curiously-shaped lines and dashes of remarkable fineness. Their size varies with latitude, the largest coming from Kansas, and the smallest from Georgia. The average measurement of several sets from four different localities is .04 by .53 inches. We incline to the opinion that but a single brood is annually raised, although there may be instances where more than one has been observed. In most cases, where the birds have been late in rearing their young, the hasty collector, and even recorder of facts, may conclude that he has a sure proof of his position. Careful watching, carried through a decade, has convinced us that in Philadelphia the species is single-brooded. Like most of our smaller birds, the nest of this species does not escape the visits of the Cowbird, who, taking advantage of the absence of its owners, embraces the opportunity of depositing two of her own eggs, which she trusts the female Yellow-Throat will adopt and rear as her own.
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Plate XXXVI.—SITTA CAROLINENSIS, Gmelin.—White-bellied Nuthatch
This well-known species inhabits the eastern portions of the United States from the Atlantic to the Rocky Mountains, being replaced in the territory west of the great central plains by a well-marked variety. In the British Provinces it has not been observed to attain a higher northern range than Nova Scotia. Although rather common in the maritime portions of its somewhat extended habitat, yet it is less so than in regions farther inland.
Being a permanent resident among us, there is no reason why the enthusiastic lover of birds should not render himself familiar with its history. In its own native haunts, notwithstanding, the shyness which seems to characterize its nature, ample opportunities are afforded. From early morning until sunset, except when concerned with domestic relations, but more especially during the season when winter rules the year, its presence may be seen and heard.
When first noticed, its peculiar winding movements around the trunks and branches of trees, in every conceivable direction and position, cannot fail to rivet the attention, and excite surprise. It recalls to mind many of the motions which the smaller Woodpeckers and Titmice assume. To a novice a word of explanation as to the cause thereof may be necessary. But to one who has been accustomed to using his eyes and ears aright, the solution to the problem soon becomes apparent. The loud, sonorous tap against the hardened bark, and the listening attitude which the bird takes on, are the key to the mystery. Let but the stir of some hibernating insect, or the perforations of an undermining grub, be heard, and in almost the twinkling of an eye, its whereabouts is discovered, and the thoughtless culprit dragged out and made to pay the penalty of an inglorious death for such rashness. Quite as often the detection of food is due to the keen vision which these birds possess as to that of a well-trained ear, for in their persistent and indefatigable searchings in crack and crevice, the most apparently lifeless beetle, or even the death-like ovum of the same, does not escape their scrutinizing gaze.
Should the reader, in his rural walks, visit the haunts of the Nuthatches, it is more than likely that his presence would be greeted by the strong nasal cry of honk-honk, which these birds are accustomed to emit, at somewhat regular intervals, while foraging. Not that they adopt this method of accosting their human brethren upon such occasions, but what we mean is, that the birds will be heard, in most instances, before there are any bodily manifestations. Even after one has located with tolerable precision the tree from which emanated the sounds, a few minutes will generally elapse before the authors thereof are clearly outlined against the dark background of the bark. To insure success, without waste of time, the eyes should be directed upward, as the middle and higher branches of the tallest trees are usually chosen for the purposes of feeding, the lowermost being seldom resorted to.
Besides the larvæ of beetles, mature forms of elaters and buprestians constitute a large share of their winter diet. As winter lapses into spring, and there is a consequent increase in the numbers, as well as kinds of insects, their bill of fare is enlarged, certain new species of coleoptera and a few ants being added thereto. When the tulip-tree is in blossom in May, many may be seen delving into its floral treasures for the numerous small insects which are attracted thither. Earlier, the cone-like fruit is visited, and rifled of its samara-shaped seeds. By some writers it is claimed that, like its European congener, our species collects and stores away the fruits of nut-bearing trees. This is an undisputed fact, as different species of acorns have been seen securely wedged in between the bark and outer woody layers of trees, and Nuthatches in positions as to lead to the suspicion that they had placed them there. In fine, birds have been seen engaged in this identical business.
Their favorite food being insects, in all their different stages, where abundance of them exist they seldom stray for any considerable distance from their accustomed woods during the breeding-season. When snow or ice debars them from access to the trunk and branches of trees, they have been known to visit houses and out-buildings for the requisite food, and even to hunt among the leaves upon the ground of sheltered localities for the seeds of plants. Ordinarily dry, high thickets are preferred to the noise and bustle of human life. It is chiefly at such times that the sexes part company, and seem engrossed by the most selfish feelings.
While remarkably fond of the joys of the table, as evidenced by the industry and perseverance with which they pursue their gastronomic exploits, they are not so thoroughly epicurean in their lives as to forget the claims of affection. Their devotion to each other is nearly unbounded, and is scarcely excelled, if at all, by that which characterizes our smaller Titmice. This feeling of love, as is natural to suppose, cannot fail to lead to an early assumption of conjugal relations. Accordingly we find that preparations for this work are entered into early. About the time that the Warblers are beginning to make the woods and fields lively with their exhilarating songs and diversions, these loving, sympathetic beings, already mated, are beginning to look themselves out a home. Like the Woodpeckers and Chickadees, they sometimes excavate a hole in the decayed trunk or branch of a forest-tree, or in the solid wood itself. Usually, however, they search for one already prepared, either in the trunk of a tree, in the creviced wall of an out-building, or in a hollow rail in a fence. In any event, more or less work of construction is necessary. When the labor of excavation has commenced, the birds work by turns. The one not thus occupied waits upon its mate, and carries out the chips that are made, to a safe distance from the nest. The cavities thus made vary in depth, some being not more than ten inches deep, while others are nearly one and a half feet. The entrance thereto is generally wide enough to admit of easy entrance, but towards the bottom the cavity expands into a sort of room. In the North these chambers are lined with warm and soft materials, such as hair, feathers, wool, down and fur, which are loosely thrown together. Audubon affirms that they build no nest, which may have been true in his day, but the statement is not borne out by recent observations. A nest in the writer's collection, from the South, offers no material variation from specimens from the most northern localities.
In the selection of a cavity the birds sometimes make mistakes, as instanced by E. W. Nelson, Esq., in his valuable pamphlet on the Birds of Northeastern Illinois. In this case the Nuthatches had selected for nesting purposes a knot hole in a large oak, at a height of about twenty-five feet from the ground. The hole was large enough to admit the human hand, and several inches in depth. Within were the remnants of a squirrel's nest, which nearly filled the cavity. After working steadily for about a week until the nest was nearly ready for occupancy, a pair of flying-squirrels, the previous owners of the hollow, seized the premises, and the birds, despondent and aggrieved, were compelled to move elsewhere. Had these patient little builders been aware of the method which their European cousin adopts to keep out unfriendly intruders—namely, that of plastering up the entrance to their nest, and thus contracting the opening, they would have been spared the pains of seeing their nearly furnished compartment occupied by creatures of the remotest kinship.
By the first of May, or thereabouts, the female commences to deposit her complement of six eggs, which she does in as many consecutive days. She now immediately enters upon the process of incubation, and after twelve days of close sitting, brings forth her tender brood. All the time that she is thus occupied, the male is very assiduous in his efforts to lighten her cares and solace her ennui. He supplies her with food, and when released from such labor, spends the most of his time in the vicinity of the nest. A score of times during the course of the day, perhaps, she is summoned to the mouth of the hole to receive some choice hit of food, or the endearments and caresses of her idolizing partner. At the approach of danger he does not desert her, but fearlessly intervenes to give the necessary warning. If the nest is disturbed, his quiet, peaceable disposition will not suffer him to make the slightest defence. His only object seems to reach some place of safety, from which, when attained, he can survey the contemplated demolition. With the female the case is different. So strongly attached to her home is she, that she is not prone to leave it, even under the most trying circumstances. A case is cited by Maynard of a nest having been found in a partially decayed apple-tree by Mr. Brewster. In order to effect an entrance for the hand, and thus secure the female, the latter gentleman was compelled to enlarge the opening. The bird struggled vigorously to escape, but when liberated, returned at once to her eggs. Several times was she taken out, and as often re-entered her domicile the moment she was at large.
Both parents are strongly attached to the young, and provide them with an abundance of healthy food, of a somewhat varied character, which they receive, soon after they are hatched, by climbing to the opening of the nest. This food consists chiefly, at first, of different kinds of grubs; but after the first week, beetles and ants are fed, and relished with a gusto. When about two weeks old they venture out upon the trunk to try their legs and claws, while their wings are acquiring development and strength, but retire to the nest when the weather is unpleasant, and at nights. A few days more, and they are prepared to earn their own living, after the peculiar fashion of the race.
Young male birds do not immediately put on the plumage of the paternal sire, and it is probable that this condition is not attained until the following spring. In the fall they resemble the mother, who differs from her lord only in having the black of the head glossed with ashy. The latter is ashy-blue above, with top of head and neck black. The under parts, and sides of the head to a brief space above the eye, are white. The under tail-coverts, as well as tibial feathers, are brown, while the concealed primaries are white. The bill is rather long, stout and awlshaped. The length is six inches, and the wing about three and three-quarters.
The eggs have a white ground in blown specimens, but when fresh they show a beautiful roseate tinge, with a tendency to a reddish hue, which is apparently due to the ferruginous and purplish spots and blotches with which they are so closely covered. Considerable variations of size prevail in these markings, from fine points to well-pronounced blotches, and there is also noticeable a predominance of the reddish-brown colors. The average dimensions of several sets before us, from half a dozen localities, are .80 by .62 inches. Single specimens may occasionally be found which, like Mr. Samuels's Adirondack specimen, may have a length of .70 of an inch, and a width of .57, but such are certainly abnormal productions. While the rule in our Northern States seems to be, according to the concurrent testimony of numerous writers, but a single brood annually, yet there is reason to believe that in the warm, semi-tropical sections of our country, the species may prove double-brooded.
Whether our species could ever be domesticated or not, it is impossible to say. But there is no doubt that, under similar circumstances, the same confiding tameness would be shown, as the interesting descriptions given in English works tell us is exhibited by the European species. The latter, we are told, when treated with kindness, will come regularly to be fed. Individuals have been known to approach within a foot of their benefactor, and even to capture bits of food thrown to them before the latter could have time to reach the ground.
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Plate XXXVII.—MELEAGRIS GALLOPAVO VAR. AMERICANA, (Bartr.) Coues.—Wild Turkey.
A few years more this handsome bird, which was at one time found in great abundance over nearly the whole of the Eastern Province of the United States, will be numbered with the things that were. Its final extinction is only a question of time, and that not very remote. In the days of Audubon it was found along the entire range of the Alleghanies, where individuals do still exist, but they have been so molested by man, that they can only be approached with the greatest difficulty. At present they are quite abundant in the unsettled parts of our Southern and Western States, and in the regions drained by the Mississippi and Missouri rivers. In New England it has probably become extinct. The same may doubtless be predicated of portions of our Middle Atlantic States. To be sure there are localities where individuals may occasionally be observed, but with the construction of railroads, and the settlement of the country which invariably follows, we may expect the same fate to overtake them. Dr. Woodhouse met with the species in abundance in all the timbered portions of Texas and the Indian Territory, and Mr. Dresser found it common enough in the districts of Mexico and Texas which he visited. This was especially the case on the rivers between San Antonio and the Rio Grande.
Not migratory in the sense in which many of our smaller species are, yet these birds are addicted to roaming from one locality to another. These movements always occur in flocks of varying numbers, and have reference to food-matters. Where the supply of mast becomes exhausted, an advance is ordered towards richer pastures. If there is an abundance of food, the large flocks dissolve into smaller ones, composed of individuals of all ages and sexes. A paucity of the same, brought about by deep snows, induces the birds to approach the haunts of man, where they obtain a subsistence by consorting with the poultry, or by entering the open doors of corn-cribs.
When the young are nearly grown, in October, the adult females—which dwell apart from their lords, each at the head of her numerous family—gather in the rich bottom-lands of our Western rivers. These families unite with others, until parties of seventies and eighties are the final results. The old males associate in parties of from twenty to a hundred, and move simultaneously into the same territories, but are carefully avoided by the mother-birds, on account of the hatred which the former bear towards their nearly grown children. This un parental disposition, which leads the males to destroy their offspring, is more especially vented upon the young males, and is doubtless inspired by jealousy.
The migration are mostly made on foot. But when a stream intervened; a stay of one or two days upon its banks occurs before any attempt is made to cross. The manouvres of the old males are then rather ludicrous. They parade themselves up and down the banks, utter to each other their characteristic gobble, as if to raise their courage to the point necessary to surmount the barrier. The females and the young assume in less degree the same demeanor. After this lengthy preparation, both young and old mount to the summit of a tall tree, and at the leader's signal, wing their flight for the opposite shore. Some, however, overcome by fatigue, drop into the water. These, with wings close-pressed to the body and expanded tail, call their legs into vigorous action, and soon gain the shore, where they are at length able to extricate themselves from the perilous situation. If the stream is wide, the birds are often thrown into a state of bewilderment, and become easy victims to the hunter's rifle. Advantage is not only taken of these movements, but from the fact that the birds are hard to approach in the daytime, many a gunner by watching where they roost, on clear, moonlight evenings is often able to secure two or three plump fellows for his trouble. Like our domestic Turkey, these birds roost on trees as high up as possible. Various contrivances are often adopted to lure them to their destruction. In the spring, a very common practise is to imitate the voice of the female by drawing the air through one of the wing-joints, the second usually, the sound produced being immediately answered by the male, who ventures out of his place of concealment, only to be shot. The cry of the Barred Owl is also imitated in localities which these birds frequent at night, with the most happy results. A trap known as a Turkey-pen is a very common mode of capture in some parts of the country. This is a covered enclosure, made of small trees of various sizes and of moderate heights. At one end a small opening is left, through which is dug a slight trench, sloping gradually from each extremity to the centre, and continued outwardly for a brief space. For a short distance from the enclosure a passage-way is constructed. This, with the interior of the pen, and a narrow tract of land stretching into the forest, is scattered with corn. Attracted by the grain, the birds follow it into the enclosure, and when once there, become bewildered, or lack the intelligence necessary to make their exit. While in this predicament, many are captured. .
But as the love-season approaches, man abandons the amusements of the chase, and these severely persecuted creatures are allowed a chance to cultivate social relations. Early in February the males present their suits, but at first meet with little favor. Still they persist, until their patience is rewarded with success. When these amours commence, the sexes are dwelling apart. If a call is emitted by a perching female within hearing of a male, a response is returned in a voice akin to the sounds with which our domestic bird greets any ordinary noise. But let the female utter the same note while on the ground, and she is soon besieged by several of her masculine admirers, each striving to demonstrate the sincerity of his affection. With wide-spread, erected tails, depressed and quivering wings, and head gracefully poised and carried well back upon the shoulders, they parade themselves with great pomp in front of the females, who regard such movements, for the nonce, with listlessness or disfavor. All the while the males are thus engaged, they give expression to their feelings in a succession of peculiar puffs. Considerable excitement often attends these love-affairs. Especially is this the case when some hitherto listless female becomes impressed with the pleadings of a particular male. This is the signal for the fiercest encounters, which usually result in some one or more of the participants being killed. When one rival has thus destroyed another, the surviving party, as if feeling remorse, caresses the fallen one with the ten derest affection.
Having mated, the union thus formed usually lasts during the season, although instances are recorded where the same male has been known to possess more than one partner. The female is endued with finer feelings than her lord and, when concerned with domestic relations, continues to keep her treasures hid, well knowing the propensity which he manifests for destroying the same. Consequently, the selection and building of a nest fall exclusive to her lot. At the close of the love-season, the males cease to gobble, and being considerably emaciated, desert the females, and go off by themselves. When they have recuperated their energies, they return, and reunite in small flocks.
About the middle of April the females prepare their nests in secluded localities. These are placed upon the ground, and consist of a few dry leaves placed in a depression by the side of a prostrate log, under a mass of brushwood in a thicket, within the precincts of a corn-brake, or in such places as afford the necessary shelter. Dry spots are always selected. Suited with locality, the female deposits her eggs daily until the entire complement is raised, when she enters the nest, and for nearly four weeks is a close sitter. When she leaves it for food, she always takes the precaution to cover her eggs with leaves, to guard against detection. Small islands are frequently chosen for nesting purposes. The large masses of driftwood which accumulate about their heads, are said to give them security from their numerous enemies.
So closely attached to home is the female, that she will not leave it unless in peril. The approach of human footsteps is unheeded, where no danger is to be apprehended. Its discovery by man is not considered as sufficient cause for desertion, but she is known to forsake it when the egg's have been broken. In such cases another nest is prepared, but otherwise only one brood is annually raised. The most friendly feelings are known to exist among the females during the breeding-season. Several hens have been known to deposit their eggs in the same nest, and rear their broods together. Audubon once met with forty-two eggs in a single nest, the labors of three females, one of whom being always on guard. When the eggs are nearly hatched, the female remains a very vigilant watcher, and will leave the nest under no circumstances. In short, she has often permitted herself to be captured rather than endanger her treasures. Weak, delicate creatures as the young are, it is doubtful that they could extricate themselves from their calcareous coverings, were it not for the timely efforts of the parent. Not only in this manner does she show her love, but also by fondling and drying them, and assisting them to leave the nest. Her cares are now quite manifold. She must needs lead them into suitable feeding pastures, teach them to distinguish good from bad food, and protect them from enemies. Besides, she is careful to keep them from getting wet, which is detrimental to their early lives. At the age of two weeks, they follow the mother with facility, roost upon the same bough with her at night, and seek their food in the daytime. Their diet at first consists of small berries of different kinds, and insects. To this somewhat restricted bill of fare, grass, corn, seeds, fruit, beetles, tadpoles and lizards are added, as they weekly mature. The dry leaves of the woods are turned over with their feet, for they are somewhat rasorial in their habits. Like their parents, the young are able to go for several days without food, which is occasionally the case after a heavy fall of snow. At such times, in the unsettled parts of our country, both young and old associate with domesticated birds, when quarrels often ensue, which chiefly result in favor of the former. Attempts to tame these birds have been made, but with only partial success. Under confinement birds are apt to lose the brilliancy of their plumage in the third generation, and display in places an intermingling of white feathers throughout the pale brown which they then assume. In the cut accurate representations of the sexes appear, the female differing from the male in being of smaller size, in having less brilliant colors, in the much smaller fleshy protuberance above the base of the bill, and in the absence usually of the pencil of bristles on the breast, and of spur. From the Mexican variety—the supposed parent of the tame species—it differs in having the upper tail-coverts chestnut, but without the light tips, and in having the ends of the tail feathers scarcely paler, instead of brownish-yellow or whitish. The male bird ranges from forty-eight to fifty inches in length, and weighs from sixteen to thirty-five pounds. The wing is twenty-one inches long, and the tail eighteen and a half. The female is smaller proportionally, and weighs about thirteen pounds.
The eggs are usually from eight to fifteen in number, but sometimes amount to eighteen, and even twenty. They are of an elongate oval form, obtuse at one extremity, and pointed at the other. Their ground-color is a dark cream, and there are pretty generally scattered over the surface rounded spots of umber-brown. In dimensions they are apt to differ, even in the same nest-full. Specimens vary from 2.25 to 2.58 inches in length, and from 1.74 to 1.89 in width. In no portion of its habitat is the species other than single-brooded, although nests with eggs are occasionally found in June, but these are due to delays caused by various contingencies.
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Plate XXXVIII.—CHÆTURA PELASGICA, (Linn.) Baird.—Chimney Swift.
This species chiefly confines its migrations to the eastern portions of North America, from the Atlantic westward to the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains, and northward to the 50th parallel of latitude. In the fur-bearing countries it is probably a stranger, as no mention is made of it by Dr. Richardson in his explorations. Mr. Say met with it at Pembina, on the Red River, in Northern Minnesota; Mr. Allen, in great abundance, in Kansas; but it is doubtful as to its occurrence in New Mexico, notwithstanding the high authority of Dr. Woodhouse, as later observers are silent upon the subject. It has also been claimed by the last-mentioned traveler as being found in parts of Texas, but Mr. Dresser was unable to take it, and it does not appear that it has ever been met with by the naturalists of any of our Western expeditions. The accounts given by early writers of its presence along the Pacific region, it is now decided, pertain not to this species, but to a distinct and closely allied one. Respecting its winter-quarters we are in the dark. It is not likely that it remains in any portion of the United States during the autumnal and brumal months, not to any great extent, if it does at all, as it has been observed by Allen entering Florida during the latter days of March. Lawrence, Salvin and Sclater, as well as other writers of note on the birds of Mexico, Central America and the West Indies, make no mention of it. Its southern journey usually occurs about the middle of September, seldom later, and is performed with so much silence and suddenness, that we are only made aware of the vacancy which their departure has produced, by the missing of their confused yet pleasant chatterings at morn and night.
Their vernal advent is marked with the same quietness, and is as much a source of mystery and surprise.
Upon its arrival in the United States late in March, it diffuses itself in various directions throughout the country, reaching the Central and Northern States about the middle of April usually, but, sometimes, when the season has been very much retarded, not before the beginning of the following month. Its entrance into Canada is not looked for until near the close of April—the birds apparently timing their movements with the sun's northward advancement. From Virginia to Canada, along the Atlantic seaboard, and the same is true of our Western States, where the presence of man is seen and felt, these dusky denizens of the air are wont to take up their abode. The chimneys of our houses, especially those that' are not called into constant requisition, afford them convenient and comfortable quarters. So accustomed to their odd little ways and notions have we become, that on each recurrence of the breeding-season we naturally look for their coming with as much interest and pleasure as to that of a long absent friend. Their jolly, sociable disposition wins our regard and esteem, and has so completely interwoven their fortunes with our own, that their loss would be keenly felt and universally bewailed. In habits they are widely different from their trans-Atlantic brethren, who display considerable shyness, and breed in caves, or ruined or deserted dwellings.
Since the occupancy of this country by civilized beings, a most wonderful change has been effected in their behavior. Their primitive breeding places have been exchanged for the cosy, soot-begrimmed chimney. To be sure there are localities where breeding is still carried on in hollow trees as of yore, but such places are now but occasionally occupied in the older parts of the country, and merely for roosting purposes. In certain portions of New Brunswick, according to Mr. George A. Boardman, birds still nest in decayed tree-hollows. Even where chimneys are to be found individuals have been known to select places remote therefrom. The writer last mentioned once met with a nest that was built against a board in an old log-house. It was not the lack of a chimney that conduced to this peculiar deviation, as we are led to infer of the existence of one somewhat remotely situated from what that observer says. Where there is no danger to be apprehended from enemies, a position like the one described, affords the requisite advantages. In buildings that are freely used by man, persistence in this habit might be attended with results, which would be escaped by nidification in chimneys. In Southeastern Illinois Mr. Ridgway discovered a nest in a hollow sycamore-tree, and also another securely fastened to a plank of an out-building. Mr. Allen met it in Kansas, breeding in hollow trees, for which it seemed to manifest a decided preference. In long-settled sections the species has been forced by circumstances to resort to chimneys, or else abandon the country. In but a single instance have we known from actual experience the nest to be built against the rafter of a deserted out-building.
Nesting usually commences within a week after the birds have reached the accustomed haunts. Whether mating is accomplished preparatory to leaving their southern homes, or subsequent thereto, we are not prepared to assert, but incline to the belief that they arrive already paired, since we have never been able to observe the sexes engaged in their amours. Perhaps these are performed within the sheltering walls of the flues which they choose for their homes. The labor of nest-building requires the united efforts of the builders for three days. The structure is a rather curious and remarkable affair. Its composition consists of small twigs, nearly uniform in dimensions, which are severed from the living branches of trees, by the birds while upon wing, with considerable dexterity and adroitness. They sweep upon the coveted twig much after the fashion of a hawk in rushing upon its prey. These twigs are fastened to each other by the saliva of the builders, and by the same cement the entire fabric is made to adhere to the side of the chimney in which it is placed. This saliva, after a slight exposure, hardens into a glue-like material, which becomes as firm as the branches it joins together. In separating these nests from their reposing surfaces we have even known fragments of the bricks to give way, rather than the cementing substance. When rendered moist by long-continued rains, they often become precipitated to the bottom of the chimney solely by the weight of their own contents. In such emergencies the young cling with considerable tenacity to the chimney-side by means of bill and claw. In configuration the nest resembles a neat, semi-circular basket, and measures about three and a half inches in diameter, one and a half in width, and about one in depth. Some are found to exceed the above dimensions, and others to fall considerably short of them. Building operations are ordinarily entered into during the early morning hours while the air is cool, the birds then working with praiseworthy diligence, but seldom during the hot, summer noontide. All the time the work is going on the builders are the happiest of creatures, and judging from the continual chatter which they make, there is never an angry word spoken, nor a quarrel indulged in with each other, or with any of their near neighbors who occupy the same chimney. Their lives seem to be as gay and felicitous as the days are long.
A few days elapse after the completion of the fabric, not usually more than two, in which mutual congratulations are passed. Then comes the drama in which the female is the principal actor—namely, the laying of the eggs. This requires four days, in ordinary instances, one egg being deposited daily. Incubation then succeeds, and lasts for eleven days. Here the female displays her true motherly instinct. She enters the nest, and with unwearied perseverance continues thereon, save during brief intervals of absence in quest of food, until she has achieved her heart's desire. The male is said to relieve her, but if such is the case, we have never been a witness of the fact. But while keeping aloof from such fatiguing duty, he is nevertheless a very faithful and devoted father when the young have quit their narrow prison-houses and welcomed the light of a new life. He is now as solicitous for their safety and well-being as the mother, and in case of molestation, unites his cries with hers to frighten away the intruder, or to cause him to desist from any assault he may have in contemplation. When twelve days old the little Swifts are able to climb to the summit of the chimney and receive their food. This always occurs a few days before their wings are sufficiently developed for flight. Even while quite young, in case of accident to the nest, they are able to make their way to the top of the chimney. In some cases they are carried beyond the reach or notice of their parents. When such occur they stubbornly refuse, human assistance, although uttering the most pitiful cries of hunger. When placed upon the roof contiguous to their native chimney, Dr. Brewer has known them to descend to its base, and there receive parental attention. In a fortnight they leave the nest, and are able to care for themselves. As this species is double-brooded in Pennsylvania the young are necessarily forced to self-maintenance at an early age, the thoughts of the parents being engrossed with preparations for a second family. These arrangements are perfected about the middle of June. In New England, and further north, but one brood is raised.
Like the old birds, the young are crepuscular rather than nocturnal in their habits, preferring to hunt for their prey early in the morning and late in the afternoon, or during cloudy weather. At times these predatory excursions occur at noonday in the broad glare of a full-orbed sun. The period for hunting is apparently regulated by the abundance or scarcity of appropriate insects. The adult birds, when with young, have often been known to protract their search for food long after night-fall. Caterpillars, diptera, beetles and lepidoptera of various kinds, constitute their menu, vast numbers of injurious, as well as beneficial species, being destroyed. Mature insects are chiefly in demand, which the birds, from being constantly on the wing, procure without much difficulty. Their flight then is varied and difficult of description. It consists of rapid sailing, and divers turnings, with occasional quickly repeated strokes of the wings. They never rest except in their roosting-places, to the walls of which they cling with great tenacity, being partially supported by their rigid tails. When tired of flight, they seek their homes, which they enter by falling headforemost, without any apparent concern. Their only note in these gastronomic explorations is a simple chip, uttered with considerable force, and at times so quickly, as to give rise to a confused twittering.
In the days of Wilson these birds were known, in the more unsettled parts of the country, to repose in large hollow trees, which were open at the top. Swallow Trees, as these roosting-places were commonly designated by country people, were fancifully supposed to be the winter-quarters of the Swifts, where, in vast heaps, they slept away the winter in a condition of torpidity, and whence, on the return of spring, they came forth to enliven us with their animated expressions. But in the present enlightened age, the intelligent take no stock in these statements, but consign such rubbish to the domain of oblivion. With the ignorant and superstitious it is different. They are invested with peculiar charms, which make them matters of pleasant reflection. Attempts have recently been made to revive these beliefs, but with slim chances of success. An instance may occur where some hapless individual has been left behind by his companions, and been forced to seek protection from the inclemency of the season in the cavities of trees, as the result of a sad emergency, which the vivid imagination of some visionary person might magnify into a hundred birds, but of such a case, we have no authentic knowledge.
For the benefit of those of our readers who have never examined these birds closely, but only while in flight, we shall mention a few of the characters by which they are readily distinguished by the real student of Nature. The same description will apply to the female as to the male, as her resemblance in plumage is so strong as to baffle the critical eye of the systematist to point out any well-marked distinctions. Both birds have a sooty-brown dress, which, however, is not uniform. The throat, from the breast to the bill, is considerably lighter than the general color, the rump a trifle paler, while above there is a slight greenish cast. Their length is five and a quarter inches, wing five and one-tenth, and tail two and three-twentieths.
The eggs of these birds are somewhat elliptical, rather less obtuse at one extremity than the other. Their ground is a pure, unspotted white, and in dimensions they vary but little. The average measurement from five localities is .77 by .52 inches.
