Accompanied by several friends, I left Charleston one beautiful morning, the 10th of November 1831, with a view to visit Cole’s Island, about twenty miles distant. Our crew was good, and although our pilot knew but little of the cuttings in and out of the numerous inlets and channels in our way, we reached the island about noon. After shooting various birds, examining the island, and depositing our provisions in a small summer habitation then untenanted, we separated; some of the servants went off to fish, others to gather oysters, and the gunners placed themselves in readiness for the arrival of the Curlews. The sun at length sunk beneath the water-line that here formed the horizon; and we saw the birds making their first appearance. They were in small parties of two, three, or five, and by no means shy. These seemed to be the birds which we had observed near the salt-marshes, as we were on our way. As the twilight became darker the number of Curlews increased, and the flocks approached in quicker succession, until they appeared to form a continuous procession, moving not in lines, one after another, but in an extended mass, and with considerable regularity, at a height of not more than thirty yards, the individuals being a few feet apart. Not a single note or cry was heard as they advanced. They moved for ten or more yards with regular flappings, and then sailed for a few seconds, as is invariably the mode of flight of this species, their long bills and legs stretched out to their full extent. They flew directly towards their place of rest, called the “Bird Banks,” and were seen to alight without performing any of the evolutions which they exhibit when at their feeding-places, for they had not been disturbed that season. But when we followed them to the Bird Banks, which are sandy islands of small extent, the moment they saw us land the congregated flocks, probably amounting to several thousand individuals all standing close together, rose at once, performed a few evolutions in perfect silence, and re-alighted as if with one accord on the extreme margins of the sand-bank close to tremendous breakers. It was now dark, and we left the place, although some flocks were still arriving. The next morning we returned a little before day; but again as we landed, they all rose a few yards in the air, separated into numerous parties, and dispersing in various directions, flew off towards their feeding-grounds, keeping low over the waters, until they reached the shores, when they ascended to the height of about a hundred yards, and soon disappeared.
Now, Reader, allow me to say a few words respecting our lodgings. Fish, fowl, and oysters had been procured in abundance; and besides these delicacies, we had taken with us from Charleston some steaks of beef, and a sufficiency of good beverage. But we had no cook, save your humble servant. A blazing fire warmed and lighted our only apartment. The oysters and fish were thrown on the hot embers; the steaks we stuck on sticks in front of them; and ere long every one felt perfectly contented. It is true we had forgotten to bring salt with us; but I soon proved to my merry companions that hunters can find a good substitute in their powder-flasks. Our salt on this occasion was gunpowder, as it has been with me many a time; and to our keen appetites, the steaks thus salted were quite as savoury as any of us ever found the best cooked at home. Our fingers and mouths, no doubt, bore marks of the “villanous saltpetre,” or rather of the charcoal with which it was mixed, for plates or forks we had none; but this only increased our mirth. Supper over, we spread out our blankets on the log floor, extended ourselves on them with our feet towards the fire, and our arms under our heads for pillows. I need not tell you how soundly we slept.
The Long-billed Curlews are in general easily shot, but take a good charge. So long as life remains in them, they skulk off among the thickest plants, remaining perfectly silent. Should they fall on the water, they swim towards the shore. The birds that may have been in company with a wounded one fly off uttering a few loud whistling notes. In this respect, the species differs from all the others, which commonly remain and fly about you. When on land, they are extremely wary; and unless the plants are high, and you can conceal yourself from them, it is very difficult to get near enough. Some one of the flock, acting as sentinel, raises his wings, as if about to fly, and sounds a note of alarm, on which they all raise their wings, close them again, give over feeding, and watch all your motions. At times a single step made by you beyond a certain distance is quite enough to raise them, and the moment it takes place, they all scream and fly off. You need not follow the flock. The best mode of shooting them is to watch their course for several evenings in succession; for after having chosen a resting place, they are sure to return to it by the same route, until greatly annoyed.
The food of the Long-billed Curlews consists principally of the small crabs called fiddlers, which they seize by running after them, or by pulling them out of their burrows. They probe the wet sand to the full length of their bill, in quest of sea-worms and other animals. They are also fond of small salt-water shell-fish, insects, and worms of any kind; but I have never seen them searching for berries on elevated lands, as the Esquimaux Curlews are wont to do. Their flesh is by no means so delicate as that of the species just mentioned, for it has usually a fishy taste, and is rarely tender, although many persons consider it good. They are sold at all seasons in the markets of Charleston, at about twenty-five cents the pair.
Rambling birds of this species are sometimes seen as far as the neighbourhood of Boston; for my learned friend Thomas Nuttall says in his Manual, that “they get so remarkably fat, at times, as to burst the skin in falling to the ground, and are then superior in flavour to almost any other game bird of the season. In the market of Boston, they are seen as early as the 8th of August.” I found them rather rare in East Florida in winter and spring. They were there seen either on large savannahs, or along the sea shore, mixed with marbled Godwits, Tell-tales, and other species.
Numenius longirostris, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 314.—Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 376.
Long-billed Curlew, Numenius longirostris, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 23. pl. 64. fig. 1. adult.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 94.
Adult Male. Plate CCXXXI. Fig. 1.
Bill excessively elongated, being more than four times the length of head, very slender, subcylindrical, slightly compressed, nearly straight to the middle, beyond which it is slightly curved. Upper mandible with the ridge broad and flat at the base, broad and rounded in the rest of its extent, a deep groove running from the nostrils to near the tip, which is decurved, enlarged so as to form an oblong obtuse knob, projecting beyond the point of the lower mandible, the edges rounded, the inner surface with a deep narrow groove. Nostrils basal, lateral, longitudinal, linear, pervious. Lower mandible similar in its curvature to the upper, its angle extremely narrow, and extending to near the middle, the ridge rounded, the sides with a shallow groove to near the end, the edges directly meeting those of the upper mandible, the tip obtuse.
Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck long and slender. Body rather slender. Feet long and rather stout. Toes rather small, scutellate above; first very small, second and fourth about equal, third considerably longer, flat beneath and broadly marginate, the three anterior connected by short webs, of which the outer is much larger. Bare part of tibia covered with transverse series of angular scales, as is the upper part of the tarsus, its lower two-thirds with scutella in front. Claws small, compressed, blunt, that of middle toe largest, curved outwards, with a sharp dilated inner edge.