The semi-palmated snipe, better known by its common sobriquet of ‘pill-will-willet,’ the loud shrill note which it emits, is at certain periods of the year esteemed an excellent bird in America. It ought to be served up in the mode that snipes usually are, and for these delicious viands it is esteemed a tolerable substitute when in good order.
Dampier, nearly two centuries ago, speaking of the flamingo, says: ‘Their flesh is lean and black, but not ill-tasted. They have large tongues, and near the root of them a piece of fat, which is accounted a great dainty.’
The flamingo was much esteemed by the Romans at their sumptuous entertainments. Their flesh is thought tolerably good food, and the tongue was looked upon by the ancients as among the most delicate of all eatables. Pliny, Martial, and many other writers, speak of it in the highest terms of commendation. Many who have tried it, consider the flesh extremely rich, much like that of the wild duck, but with a strong fishy taste. The tongue is certainly delicate, but scarcely worthy the high encomiums bestowed on it by the ancients.
During the surveying expedition of Captain Owen, on the east coast of Africa, the sailors used to shoot hundreds of these beautiful birds for the purpose of making a dish of the tongues alone. The remainder of the bird—in imitation of the Roman epicures—being thrown away.
NATATORES.
The Natatores, or swimming birds, supply us with very choice food. Even many of the coarse sea fowl are not rejected by voyagers.
The Chinese shoot sea-gulls in large numbers, which add to their stock of food. A man is constantly engaged in the bay of San Francisco, California, shooting sea-gulls, which he sells to the Chinese at the rate of 25 cents each. The San Francisco Evening News says,—‘This bird is a slow and steady mover, of large size, and flies at a convenient distance over the head of the sportsman. The man in the skiff was armed with a double-barrelled shot gun, both barrels of which he would load, and taking a dead gull would throw it high in the air and allow it to fall at some distance from the boat. This would naturally attract a flock of gulls, and as they made their slow circuit around the spot, the gunner raised his piece and generally succeeded in bringing down a bird for both barrels. He would then re-load as fast as possible, and if a gull was in range, another shot was fired and another trophy won.’
The flesh of sea-fowl is generally too rancid to find much favour with fastidious palates. Sailors indeed eat the livers and hearts of the penguins, which are exceedingly palatable, but the black flesh of the body is rank and oily, and has rather a perfumed taste. Some voyagers, however, tell us, that eaten in ragouts, they are good as that made from a hare.
The young puffins, having gorged themselves with sprats and crustacea, when pickled with spices, are by some considered dainties, and they are, occasionally, potted in the North. But when it has attained its ugly full developed bill, like a short, thick plough coulter, this bird does not look very prepossessing. Besides making use of them for food, some of the islanders use them for fire-wood. They split them open, dry them, and then burn them feathers and all.
There is a species of puffin, the Puffinus urinatrix or P. brevicaudis, popularly termed the mutton-bird by Tasmanian colonists, which is met with on some of the New Zealand islands. It forms the principal food for the native inhabitants of Foveaux Straits, and by them is called the titi. It is a sea bird of black colour,[15] in its usual condition smaller than the common duck. Like all sea birds it has thin, slender legs, with webbed feet: the wings are long, with many joints, I forget how many: the bill is a little hooked at the point. They are generally in large flocks, covering the ocean as far as the eye can reach; sometimes flying all in the same direction, at other times crossing through each other like swarming bees. They breed on the small uninhabited islands scattered round the coasts of Stewart’s Island. These islands have a loose, dry, peatish soil, on a stony bottom. Their being exposed to the stormy winds, loaded with the salt spray of the sea, prevents the growth of a forest, except patches of stunted bushes intermixed with a sort of soft, light green fern. The loose soil is perforated with numberless birdholes, like a piece of worm-eaten wood, running from two to four feet underground in a horizontal direction, at the farthest end of which is the nest. Each female lays only one egg, which is nearly as big as a goose egg, on which they sit—it is believed male and female alternately—many weeks. The young bird is full grown in the month of April, which corresponds to October in Europe. At that time, almost all the inhabitants of Foveaux Straits, old and young—the infirm only excepted—repair to the Titi Islands, and take the young birds out of their nests, which amount to many thousands, and a great many still escape. They put a stick in the hole to feel where the bird is, which generally betrays itself by biting the stick. If the hole is so long that the bird cannot be reached by the hand, a hole is dug over it, the bird taken out and killed by breaking its head, and the broken hole covered with rubbish and earth, so that it may be used again the next year. Afterwards the birds are plucked, and, to clean the skin from the hairy down, it is moistened and held over the fire, when it is easily wiped quite clean. Then the neck, wings, and legs are cut off, the breast is opened, the entrails are taken out, and the body is laid flat, either to be salted or to be boiled in its own fat, and preserved in air-tight kelp bags. Though it cannot be said that the young birds suffer, they being killed so quickly, yet it might seem cruel to rob the parents of their young ones on so large a scale, and one would fancy a great deal of fluttering and screaming of the old ones, bewailing the bereavement of their offspring. But that is not the case. None of the old birds make their appearance in the day-time. They are all out at sea, and come only to their nests in the evening when it gets dark, and are off again at day-break. But yet it would seem the parents would be distressed at finding their nests robbed. Not so. It would seem as if Providence had ordered it so that man should go and take the young birds for his food without hurting the feelings of the parents. When the young birds are full grown, then they are neglected by their parents, in order to starve them to get thin, else they would never be able to fly for the heaviness of their fat. It seems that at the time when they are taken by men, they are already forsaken by the old birds; and those that are not taken are compelled by hunger, when they have been starved thin and light, to leave their holes and go to sea. The old birds are tough and lean, but the young ones, which are nearly twice as big, contain, when the legs, wings, neck, and entrails are taken off, three-fourths of pure white fat, and one-fourth of red meat and tender bones. The flavour is rather fishy, but, if once used to it, not bad at all, only rather too fat. They eat best when salted and smoked a little, and then boiled a short time, and afterwards eaten cold. If properly salted, they might make an article of trade, like herrings in Europe. The fat when clean is quite white, and looks just like goose fat, but the taste is rather oily; however, it may be used for a good many other purposes than for food. It burns very well on small shallow tin lamps, which get warmed by the light and melt the fat. The feathers are very soft, and would make excellent beds if they could be cured of the oily smell, which it is likely they can.