104. Larus argentatus smithsonianus Coues. Herring Gull.—At Houlton it is common on the neighboring lakes, where it breeds.
105. Podilymbus podiceps (Linn.) Lawr. Pied-billed Grebe.—Rare, breeds, Houlton.
A SKETCH OF THE HOME OF HYLOCICHLA ALICIÆ BICKNELLI, RIDGWAY, WITH SOME CRITICAL REMARKS ON THE ALLIES OF THIS NEW RACE.
BY EUGENE P. BICKNELL.
That there remained unrecognized at this late day a bird regularly inhabiting one of the must populous portions of our country; or, indeed, that a species of eminently boreal habitat during its breeding season, and not known to occur at all at such time within the limits of the United States, should have a representative race regularly breeding in our midst, are facts for which we were little prepared. Mr. Ridgway’s recent paper[[74]] announcing these facts being necessarily of a technical nature, and confined to a formal description of the new Thrush, it has been thought well on the present occasion to allude more particularly to the character of the locality inhabited by the bird, and to some of its associates there, in connection with other sequential considerations. As the general physical character of the Catskill Mountains and the faunal features of the region will be treated by the writer elsewhere, it will be unnecessary to extend the range of the present relation from the summit of Slide Mountain in Ulster Co.,[[75]] where the new race was discovered.
On June 15, 1881, nearing the summit of this mountain, the forests of a more northern latitude were forcibly suggested. A shower had fallen during the ascent, and the sun was still obscured, while a sharp wind from the northwest piercing the wet woods and sighing among the balsams, blasted and weather beaten, heightened an impression of remoteness and desolation. The evergreens, constituting the principal arboreal growth, extended off on all sides, clothing the rocky and moss-grown slopes, and presenting the striking contrast of a young and fragrant second growth clustering about the branchless and spiny trunks of their sires tottering in decay; or, with tangled and matted branches outlined here and there, as we approached the summit, against a gray and cheerless sky. Owing to the comparatively short life of these trees, that high portion of the mountain where their tribe had pitched was brought into grim contrast with its surroundings. Old age and death, continually present invading their ranks, had everywhere left their traces; flourishing clusters had been stricken in their fellowship, groups and gatherings had been divided and scattered, and like a contagion the destroyer had spread among their hosts. But the younger generations are continually forming their associations, and with green and fragrant grouping filling in deserted chambers and screening the devastation that has gone before, although only to furnish material for its continuance in the future. All this, with an occasional undergrowth of greater or less luxuriance, gave a diversified and somewhat open character to the surroundings, entirely dissimilar to that of the environing forest; conditions, which, in conjunction with humidity and elevation, have brought this mountain top into some relation with the swampland of a more northern region.
Reaching a more elevated portion of the ridge where the ground was more level and the surface less rocky, that north-woods tree, the Paper Birch (Betula papyracea) occasionally appeared, and more abundantly the Mountain Ash. Almost the only remnant of the dense mountain forests below was the Yellow Birch (Betula lutea) which, joining the undergrowth, persisted with small and stunted stature to the summit. On all sides were to be seen the white blossoms of Viburnum lantanoides which, though also found in the valley woodlands, had there long since flowered and was now bearing green fruit. Another characteristic shrub was Amelanchier canadensis oligocarpa; lower down had been found the var. botryapium, but here, the northern form was well marked, seeming almost specifically distinct. In the deep, damp moss, covering and filling in the rocks beneath the balsam growth, and relieving the ruggedness of the slopes, northern plants were growing in greater or less profusion. The Dwarf Cornel (Cornus canadensis) grew in such close luxuriance in congenial spots, that its snowy bracts imparted an almost uniform whiteness to whole beds. With, or near it, blossomed the Wood Sorrel (Oxalis acetosella) with delicately violet-veined petals, and the appropriately-named Gold-thread (Coptis trifolia) of evanescent bloom but shining evergreen leaves, and the little Star Flower (Trientalis americana) were often also associates. Excepting the pale yellow bells of Clintonia borealis, and the purplish tinge, or veining, of the blossoms of several other species, all the plants noticed in bloom at this time upon the mountain bore flowers of some shade of white. The more open ground about our course along the ridge supported a luxuriant and graceful growth of that lovely fern Aspidium spinulosum, and with it, in openings about the summit, grew abundantly the Mountain Golden-rod (Solidago thyrsoidea) which, although yet many weeks from bloom, heralded a royal emblem to light the mountain’s brow ere the white locks of winter should again possess it.
At the elevation where these plants first appeared the trees nowhere attained more than a medium stature, those which seemed best to have surmounted the difficulties of their situation, the Balsam and the Paper Birch, never rising to a height of more than, perhaps, twenty-five feet. This growth completely encompassed the range of vision, but an occasional scantiness in the foliage permitted glimpses of surrounding mountains rolling off like huge green billows into the blue distance.
From these evergreens came the leisurely call of the Canada Nuthatch (Sitta canadensis), and on closer approach the low, plaintive notes of the little Yellow-bellied Flycatcher (Empidonax flaviventris). The brief warble of the Black-and-Yellow Warbler (Dendrœca maculosa) told of the presence of its unseen author in the surrounding trees, while among the undergrowth the less frequent, but louder and more sustained song of the Mourning Ground-warbler (Geothlypis philadelphia) showed that this species, which had been left at the foot of the mountain, had here reappeared. At intervals, faintly mingling with these songs, from some hidden fastness below, came the fantasia of the Winter Wren, a melody that seemed to pass from the spirit of unclaimed nature, voicing some mystery of the mountains. The clamor of a party of Blue Jays occasionally arose and died away in the forest, but here, in this mountain solitude, their screams seemed more subdued than in less primitive regions, and lacked that suggestion of consciousness which individuals constantly within human hearing, seem to acquire. Busily roaming Chickadees (Parus atricapillus) at times came about our path, and the Snowbird (Junco hyemalis) was present with its simple song. Olive-backed Thrushes (Hylocichla ustulata swainsoni) too, were constantly to be heard, and finally, guided by its near song, one was followed up and secured. A moment later another Thrush darted across the path, and disappearing through a young balsam growth, immediately began to sing a few rods off. The song was different from that of the bird which had just been shot, so much so, in fact, as to be remarked even by my guide. It seemed to be more uniform in character, with less variation and definition of the notes; as I wrote in my note-book at the time—more suggestive of the song of H. fuscescens. A conspicuous point of difference was that it was more subdued in tone, in fact of a somewhat ventriloquous nature. On examining the bird, in hand, although I had thought myself familiar with all our eastern Hylocichlæ, I must confess to having been puzzled. It was obviously neither the Olive-backed nor the Hermit Thrush, the only species of our own smaller Thrushes which from the distribution of their group (as then understood) could possibly be expected to occur. I at once noted its general resemblance to the Gray-cheeked Thrush, but it seemed impossible that this Hudsonian bird could be found so far south at this season; and though a second specimen pointed more strongly toward it, it was not until I had reached home and made actual comparisons, that I could feel satisfied that its true relationship was with that species. I had long noticed certain somewhat constant differences between examples of aliciæ occurring at New York on their migrations, and incited by these specimens went carefully over my series of seventeen examples and found them separable into two forms, characterized by slight differences in coloration and a notable difference in size. The examples from the Catskills were more closely allied to the smaller of the two forms, and these, with, subsequently, my entire series, were submitted to Mr. Ridgway, the result being the recognition of a new bird, belonging to our eastern fauna.
But to return to the mountain. It would hardly be justifiable to make a positive statement about a difficult song that had been but once identified, but I feel positive that the Thrushes which were last heard that evening about our camp on the extreme summit of the mountain were of the new form. Night was rapidly falling, and the valleys were in darkness, when one sang several times near the camp, and for some time afterwards a single call-note was occasionally heard, and the varying distance of the sound showed that the birds were still active. Excepting these sounds, the last bird notes heard were those of the Yellow-bellied Flycatcher.