About eleven o’clock the heat had become intense, and the Avosets gave up their search, each retiring to a different part of the pond, where, after pluming themselves, they drew their heads close to their shoulders, and remained perfectly still, as if asleep, for about an hour, when they shook themselves simultaneously, took to wing, and rising to the height of thirty or forty yards, flew off towards the waters of the Wabash River.
I was now desirous of seeing one of the sitting birds on its nest, and leaving my hiding place, slowly, and as silently as possible, proceeded toward the nearest islet on which I knew a nest to be, having the evening before, to mark the precise spot, broken some of the weeds, which were now withered by the heat of the sun. You, good Reader, will not, I am sure, think me prolix; but as some less considerate persons may allege that I am tediously so, I must tell them here that no student of Nature ever was, or ever can be, too particular while thus marking the precise situation of a bird’s nest. Indeed, I myself have lost many nests by being less attentive. After this short but valuable lecture, you and I will do our best to approach the sitting bird unseen by it. Although a person can advance but slowly when wading through mud and water knee-deep, it does not take much time to get over forty or fifty yards, and thus I was soon on the small island where the Avoset was comfortably seated on her nest. Softly and on all four I crawled toward the spot, panting with heat and anxiety. Now, Reader, I am actually within three feet of the unheeding creature, peeping at her through the tall grasses. Lovely bird! how innocent, how unsuspecting, and yet how near to thine enemy, albeit he be an admirer of thy race! There she sits on her eggs, her head almost mournfully sunk among the plumage, and her eyes, unanimated by the sight of her mate, half closed, as if she dreamed of future scenes. Her legs are bent beneath her in the usual manner. I have seen this, and I am content. Now she observes me, poor thing, and off she scrambles,—running, tumbling, and at last rising on wing, emitting her clicking notes of grief and anxiety, which none but an inconsiderate or callous-hearted person could hear without sympathizing with her.
The alarm is sounded, the disturbed bird is floundering hither and thither over the pool, now lying on the surface as if ready to die, now limping to induce me to pursue her and abandon her eggs. Alas, poor bird! Until that day I was not aware that gregarious birds, on emitting cries of alarm, after having been scared from their nest, could induce other incubating individuals to leave their eggs also, and join in attempting to save the colony. But so it was with the Avosets, and the other two sitters immediately rose on wing and flew directly at me, while the one with the four younglings betook herself to the water, and waded quickly off, followed by her brood, which paddled along swimming, to my astonishment, as well as ducklings of the same size.
How far such cries as those of the Avoset may be heard by birds of the same species I cannot tell; but this I know, that the individuals which had gone toward the Wabash reappeared in a few minutes after I had disturbed the first bird, and hovered over me. But now, having, as I thought, obtained all desirable knowledge of these birds, I shot down five of them, among which I unfortunately found three females.
The nests were placed among the tallest grasses, and were entirely composed of the same materials, but dried, and apparently of a former year’s growth. There was not a twig of any kind about them. The inner nest was about five inches in diameter, and lined with fine prairie grass, different from that found on the islets of the pond, and about two inches in depth, over a bed having a thickness of an inch and a half. The islets did not seem to be liable to inundation, and none of the nests exhibited any appearance of having been increased in elevation since the commencement of incubation, as was the case with those described by Wilson. Like those of most waders, the eggs were four in number, and placed with the small ends together. They measured two inches in length, one inch and three-eighths in their greatest breadth, and were, exactly as Wilson tells us, “of a dull olive colour, marked with large irregular blotches of black, and with others of a fainter tint.” To this I have to add, that they are pear-shaped and smooth. As to the time of hatching, I know nothing.
Having made my notes, and picked up the dead birds, I carefully waded through the rushes three times around the whole pond, but, being without my dog, failed in discovering the young brood or their mother. I visited the place twice the following day, again waded round the pond, and searched all the islets, but without success: not a single Avoset was to be seen; and I am persuaded that the mother of the four younglings had removed them elsewhere.
Since that time my opportunities of meeting with the American Avoset have been few. On the 7th of November 1819, while searching for rare birds a few miles from New Orleans, I shot one which I found by itself on the margin of Bayou St John. It was a young male, of which I merely took the measurements and description. It was very thin, and had probably been unable to proceed farther south. Its stomach contained only two small fresh-water snails and a bit of stone. In May 1829, I saw three of these birds at Great Egg Harbour, but found no nests, although those of the Long-legged Avoset of Wilson were not uncommon. My friend John Bachman considers them as rare in South Carolina, where, however, he has occasionally seen some on the gravelly shores of the sea islands.
On the 16th of April 1837, my good friend Captain Napoleon Coste, of the United States Revenue Cutter the Campbell, on board of which I then was, shot three individuals of this species on an immense sand-bar, intersected by pools, about twelve miles from Derniere Island on the Gulf of Mexico, and brought them to me in perfect order. They were larger, and perhaps handsomer, than any that I have seen; and had been killed out of a flock of five while feeding. He saw several large flocks on the same grounds, and assured me that the only note they emitted was a single whistle. He also observed their manner of feeding, which he represented as similar to that described above.
My friend Thomas Nuttall says in a note, that he “found this species breeding on the islands of shallow ponds throughout the Rocky Mountains about midsummer. They exhibited great fear and clamour at the approach of the party, but no nests were found, they being then under march.” Dr Richardson states, that it is abundant on the Saskatchewan Plains, where it frequents shallow lakes, and feeds on insects and small fresh water crustacea.
The flight of the American Avoset resembles that of the Himantopus nigricollis. Both these birds pass through the air as if bent on removing to a great distance, much in the manner of the Tell-tale Godwit, or with an easy, rather swift and continued flight, the legs and neck fully extended. When plunging towards an intruder, it at times comes downwards, and passes by you, with the speed of an arrow from a bow, but usually in moving off again, it suffers its legs to hang considerably. I have never seen one of them exhibit the bending and tremulous motions of the legs spoken of by writers, even when raised suddenly from the nest; and I think that I am equally safe in saying, that the bill has never been drawn from a fresh specimen, or before it has undergone a curvature, which it does not shew when the bird is alive. The notes of this bird resemble the syllable click, sometimes repeated in a very hurried manner, especially under alarm.