Although several years have elapsed since I visited the sterile country of Labrador, I yet enjoy the remembrance of my rambles there; nay, Reader, many times have I wished that you and I were in it once more, especially in the winter season. I calculate indeed how easily this wish might be accomplished, were I ten years younger. Under the hospitable roof of Mr Jones, while the tempest might be hurling southward the drifting snows, I could live in peaceful content, cheered by the matchless hand-organ of my kind hostess. Then, how pleasant it would be in calm weather to traverse the snowy wastes, to trap the cunning fox and the Jer Falcon, allured by their favourite winter food, the Rock Grous; with what delight should I gaze on the dim red sun creeping along the southern horizon, or watch the flittering beams of the northern aurora. Now, over the glittering snow, Jones’s Esquimaux curs might swiftly convey us to his friends, here crossing the ice-bound gulf, there traversing fissures and crags impassable in summer. Then what long tales for the long nights, and sports for the short days. The broad-antlered Caribou might have scampered before me, but its bounds would have been suddenly checked by the fleeter ball of my well-directed rifle. The wolf might have prowled around us, until he had been captured in the deeply dug and well-baited pit. Then Nature’s pure mantle would be seen slowly to disappear, the low grounds would be inundated with the snow-waters, the warm breezes would dry the mountain ridges, and with the first appearance of verdure joy would cause every heart to bound. Thousands of seals would be seen to snuff the milder air, myriads of tiny fishes would approach the shores, and millions of feathered wanderers would pass over on whistling pinions. But alas! I shall never spend a winter in Labrador.
While proceeding towards that country in 1833, on board the Ripley, I found the waters of the Gulf of St Lawrence alive with ducks of different species. The nearer we approached the coast, the more numerous did they become; and of the many kinds that presented themselves to our anxious gaze, the Surf Duck was certainly not the least numerous. It is true that in the noble bays of our own coast, in the Sound, between New York and the Hook, on the broader waters of the Chesapeake, and beyond them to the mouths of the Mississippi, I had seen thousands of Surf Ducks; but the numbers that passed the shores of Labrador, bound for the far north, exceeded all my previous conceptions.
For more than a week after we had anchored in the lovely harbour of Little Macatina, I had been anxiously searching for the nest of this species, but in vain: the millions that sped along the shores had no regard to my wishes. At length I found that a few pairs had remained in the neighbourhood, and one morning, while in the company of Captain Emery, searching for the nests of the Red-breasted Merganser, over a vast oozy and treacherous fresh-water marsh, I suddenly started a female Surf Duck from her treasure. We were then about five miles distant from our harbour, from which our party had come in two boats, and fully five and a half miles from the waters of the Gulf of St Lawrence. The marsh was about three miles in length, and so unsafe that more than once we both feared, as we were crossing it, that we might never reach its margin. The nest was snugly placed amid the tall leaves of a bunch of grass, and raised fully four inches above its roots. It was entirely composed of withered and rotten weeds, the former being circularly arranged over the latter, producing a well-rounded cavity, six inches in diameter, by two and a half in depth. The borders of this inner cup were lined with the down of the bird, in the same manner as the Eider Duck’s nest, and in it lay five eggs, the smallest number I have ever found in any duck’s nest. They were two inches and two and a half eighths in length, by one inch and five-eighths in their greatest breadth; more equally rounded at both ends than usual; the shell perfectly smooth, and of a uniform pale yellowish or cream colour. I took them on board, along with the female bird, which was shot as she rose from her nest. We saw no male bird near the spot; but in the course of the same day, met with several males by themselves, about four miles distant from the marsh, as we were returning to the harbour. This induced me to believe that, like the Eider and other ducks that breed in Labrador, the males abandon the females as soon as incubation commences. I regret that, notwithstanding all my further exertions, I did not succeed in discovering more nests or young birds.
In the States of Maine and Massachusetts, this species is best known by the name of “Butter-boat-billed Coot.” The gunners of Long Island and New Jersey call it the Black Sea Duck. It is often seen along the coast of South Carolina, where my friend John Bachman Has met with it. The Surf Duck is a powerful swimmer and an expert diver. It is frequently observed fishing at the depth of several fathoms, and it floats buoyantly among the surf or the raging billows, where it seems as unconcerned as if it were on the most tranquil waters. It rises on wing, however, with considerable difficulty, and in this respect resembles the Velvet Duck; but when once fairly under way, it flies with rapidity and to a great distance, passing close to the water during heavy gales, but at the height of forty or fifty yards in calm and pleasant weather. It is an uncommonly shy bird, and therefore difficult to be obtained, unless shot at while on wing, or when asleep, and as it were at anchor on our bays, or near the shore, for it dives as suddenly as the Velvet and Scoter Ducks, eluding even the best percussion-locked guns. The female, which was killed as she flew off from the nest, uttered a rough uncouth guttural cry, somewhat resembling that of the Goosander on similar occasions; and I have never heard any other sound from either sex.
The migration of the Surf Ducks eastward from our Southern coast, begins at a very early season, as in the beginning of March none are to be seen in the New Orleans markets. When I was at Eastport in Maine, on the 7th of May 1833, they were all proceeding eastward. How far up the St Lawrence they advance in winter I have not learned, but they must give a decided preference to the waters of that noble stream, if I may judge by the vast numbers which I saw apparently coming from them as we approached the Labrador coast. I have never seen this species on any fresh-water lake or river, in any part of the interior, and therefore consider it as truly a marine duck.
During their stay with us, they are always seen in considerable numbers together, and, unless perhaps during the breeding season, they seem to be gregarious; for even during their travels northward they always move in large and compact bodies. When I was at Newfoundland, I was assured that they breed there in considerable numbers on the lakes of the interior. My friend Professor Macculloch, of Pictou, however informs me that none are seen in Nova Scotia in summer. A gentleman of Boston, with whom I once crossed the Atlantic, assured me that the species is extremely abundant on the northern shores of the Pacific Ocean, and about the mouth of Mackenzie’s River. Doctor Townsend mentions it as being also found on the Columbia. It appears that a single specimen of the Surf Duck has been procured on the shores of Great Britain; and this has induced the ornithologists of that country to introduce it as a constituent of its Fauna.
In all the individuals which I have examined, I have found the stomach to contain fish of different kinds, several species of shell-fish, and quantities of gravel and sand, some of the fragments being of large size. Their flesh is tough, rank, and fishy, so as to be scarcely fit for food.
In the young males, in the month of September, the whole upper plumage is mottled with darkish-brown and greyish-white, the latter colour margining most of the feathers. The neck has a considerable extent of dull greyish-white, spread over two or three inches, and approaching toward the cheeks and throat. This colour disappears about the beginning of January, when they become of a more uniform dark tint, the upper part of the head brownish-black, without any white spot; there is a patch of brownish-white at the base of the upper mandible on each side; another of an oblong form over the ear, and on the nape are elongated greyish-white marks; the bill and feet dusky green, the iris brown.
Anas perspicillata, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 201.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 847.
Black or Surf Duck, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 49, pl. 67, fig. 2.