The tongue is 1 4/12 inch long, sagittate and papillate at the base, very slender, tapering, the point slit, the upper surface a little concave, the lower horny towards the end. Aperture of posterior nares linear, 9 twelfths long. Palate with a middle and two lateral ridges. Œsophagus 6 inches long, extremely wide, its average diameter on the neck 7 twelfths, within the thorax 11 twelfths. The stomach is muscular, 1 inch long, the lateral muscles not distinguishable, the fasciculi of fibres being disposed as in the rapacious birds; the central tendinous spaces 3 twelfths in diameter; the cuticular lining strong, with broad longitudinal rugæ. The contents of the stomach, fishes. The proventriculus 1 inch long. Intestine 1 foot 7 inches long, of moderate diameter, convoluted, varying from 2 3/4 twelfths to 2 1/2 twelfths. Rectum 1 inch long. Cœca 5 twelfths long, with a diameter of 3/4 of a twelfth.
The trachea is 3 1/4 inches long, 2 1/2 twelfths in breadth above, 1 1/2 twelfth below; its rings 103, feeble and unossified; the lateral muscles extremely slender; there are sterno-tracheal muscles, but none besides. Bronchial half-rings about 18.
SPOTTED SANDPIPER.
Totanus macularius, Temm.
PLATE CCCX. Male and Female.
In the course of my last journey in search of information respecting the birds which at one season or other are found within the limits of the United States, I observed so vast a number of them in Texas, that I almost concluded that more than two-thirds of our species occur there. Among them I observed the beautiful bird now before you.
The Spotted Sandpiper has a wonderfully extensive range, for I have met with it not only in most parts of the United States, but also on the shores of Labrador, where, on the 17th June 1833, I found it breeding. On the 29th of July, the young were fully fledged, and scampering over the rocks about us, amid the putrid and drying cod-fish. In that country it breeds later by three months than in Texas; for on the head waters of Buffalo Bayou, about sixty miles from the margin of the Mexican Gulf, I saw broods already well grown on the 5th of May 1837. On the same day of the same month in 1832, a similar occurrence happened on an island near Indian Key, on the south-east coast of Florida. In Newfoundland, on the other hand, the young were just fully fledged on the 11th of August 1833. It appears strange that none were observed by Dr Richardson on the shores of Hudson’s Bay, or in the interior of that country. They are quite abundant along the margins of the Mississippi, the Ohio, and their tributaries, where they remain until driven off by the cold, and return about the beginning of April, at which period the Purple Martin also makes its appearance. In our Middle Districts, they arrive a fortnight later. On the Island of Jestico, in the Gulf of St Lawrence, about twenty pairs had nests and eggs on the 11th of June; and the air was filled with the pleasing sound of their voices while we remained there. The nests were placed among the tall slender grass that covered the southern part of the island. They were more bulky and more neatly constructed than any that I have examined southward of the Gulf of St Lawrence; and yet they were not to be compared with those found in Labrador, where, in every instance they were concealed under ledges of rocks extending for several feet over them, so that I probably should not have observed them, had not the birds flown off as I was passing. These nests were made of dry moss, raised to the height of from six to nine inches, and well finished within with slender grasses and feathers of the Eider Duck. As usual however, the eggs were always four, when the bird was sitting. They measure an inch and a quarter in length, by an inch at their thickest part, so that they have a shortish and bulky appearance, though they run almost to a point. They are smooth, and handsomely marked with blotches of deep brown and others of a lighter tint, on a greyish-yellow ground, the spots being larger and closer towards the rounded end. Both sexes incubate, and remain with their brood until the time of their departure.
My learned friend Thomas Nuttall has described the manners of this species as observed in the neighbourhood of Boston, with so much truth and accuracy, that I cannot do better than present you with his account of it, the more especially, that in so doing, I have an opportunity of expressing the high opinion I entertain of his talents and varied accomplishments. “The Peet Weet is one of the most familiar and common of all the New England marsh birds, arriving along our river shores, and low meadows, about the beginning of May, from their mild or tropical winter quarters in Mexico. As soon as it arrives on the coast, small roving flocks are seen, at various times of the day, coursing rapidly along the borders of our tide-water streams, flying swiftly and rather low, in circular sweeps along the meanders of the rock or river, and occasionally crossing from side to side, in rather a sportive and cheerful mien, than as the needy foragers they appear at the close of the autumn. While flying out in these wide circuits, agitated by superior feelings to those of hunger and necessity, we hear the shores re-echo the shrill and rapid whistle of ’weet, ’weet, ’weet, ’weet, and usually closing the note with something like a warble, as they approach their companions on the strand. The cry then varies to ’peet, ’weet, ’weet, ’weet, beginning high and gradually declining into a somewhat plaintive tone. As the season advances, our little lively marine wanderers often trace the streams some distance into the interior, resting usually in fresh meadows among the grass, sometimes even near the house, and I have seen their eggs laid in a strawberry bed; and the young and old, pleased with their allowed protection, familiarly fed, and probed the margin of the adjoining duck-pond, for their usual fare of worms and insects. They have the very frequent habit of balancing or wagging the tail, in which even the young join as soon as they are fledged. From the middle to the close of May, the pairs, seceding from their companions, seek out a place for their nest, which is always in a dry open field of grass or grain, sometimes in the seclusion and shade of a field of maize, but most commonly in a dry pasture, contiguous to the sea shore; and in some of the solitary and small sea islands, several pairs sometimes nestle near to each other, in the immediate vicinity of the noisy nurseries of the quailing Terns. On being flushed from her eggs, the female goes off without uttering any complaint; but when surprised with her young, she practises all the arts of dissimulation common to many other birds, fluttering in the path, as if badly wounded, and generally proceeds in this way so far as to deceive a dog, and cause it to overlook the brood, for whose protection these instinctive arts are practised; nor are the young without their artful instinct, for on hearing the reiterated cries of their parents, they scatter about, and squatting still in the withered grass, almost exactly their colour, it is with careful search very difficult to discover them, so that in nine times out of ten, they would be overlooked, and only be endangered by the tread, which they would endure sooner than betray their cautious retreat.
“At a later period the shores and marshes resound with the quick, clear, and oft-repeated note of peet weet, peet weet, followed up by a plaintive call on the young, of peet, peet, peet? peet? If this is not answered by the scattered brood, a reiterated ’weet, ’weet, ’weet, ’wait, ’wait, is heard, the voice dropping on the final syllables. The whole marsh and the shores at times echo to this loud, lively, and solicitous call of the affectionate parents for their brood. The cry, of course, is most frequent toward evening, when the little family, separated by the necessity of scattering themselves over the ground in quest of food, are again desirous of reassembling to roost. The young, as soon as hatched, run about the grass, and utter from the first a weak plaintive peep, at length more frequent and audible; and an imitation of the whistle of peet weet, is almost sure to meet with an answer from the sympathizing broods, which now throng our marshes. When the note appears to be answered, the parents hurry, and repeat their call with great quickness. Young and old, previous to their departure, frequent the sea shores, like most of the species, but never associate with other kinds, nor become gregarious, living always in families till the time of their departure, which usually occurs about the middle of October.”
My esteemed friend Thomas Macculloch of Pictou, Nova Scotia, having transmitted to me a curious account of the attachment of one of these birds to her eggs, I here insert it with pleasure. “Being on an excursion to the Hardwood Heights, which rise to the west of Pictou, my attention was attracted by the warble of a little bird, which appeared to me entirely new, and which proceeded from a small thicket a short way off. Whilst crossing an intervening meadow, I accidentally raised a Spotted Sandpiper from its nest, and having marked the spot I hastened forwards; but the shyness of the object of my pursuit rendered all my efforts unavailing, and returning to the nest which I had just left, I expected to find it still unoccupied; but the Sandpiper had again resumed her place, and left it with great reluctance, on my near approach. The nest contained four eggs, which I determined to remove on my return at night, and for the purpose of preventing the bird sitting again upon them, I placed a number of stones in a slanting position over the nest, and so close that it was impossible for the bird to get into it. On my return in the evening, however, I observed the little creature rise from beside the stones apparently in greater trepidation than ever, and more anxious to draw me away by the exhibition of all those little arts which they practise for this purpose. On examining the spot I was very much surprised to find that the poor thing had not only hollowed out a new nest, but had actually succeeded in abstracting two eggs from the other nest. How the bird had contrived to remove the eggs I cannot conceive, as the stones remained unaltered. This attachment to its nest and eggs appeared to me more singular as the bird had just commenced incubation, the eggs exhibiting very little appearance of the young.”
In addition to the observations of Thomas Nuttall, I must inform you that this species is often observed to alight on the branches of trees hanging over water-courses, on which they walk deliberately, and with their usual delicate elegance of gait, and balancing of both body and tail. They are also wont to alight more frequently on the rails and stakes of fences, or on walls. I have seen them on the tops of hay-stacks, where they seemed to be engaged in pursuing insects. On several occasions I have found their nests in orchards of both peach and apple trees, at a considerable distance from water, the use of which, indeed, they do not appear to require much during the progress of incubation, or the first weeks after hatching their young, when I have seen them rambling in search of food over large open fields of sweet potatoes and other vegetables, in the neighbourhood of some of our cities.