Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent hyphenation, capitalization, and spelling in the original document have been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

The following inconsistencies were noted and retained:

• Grous and Grouse
• John Bullow and John Bulow
• Ingalls and Ingals
• Lehman and Leehman
• lents and lints
• Magdaleine and Magdeleine Islands
• oppossum and opossum
• waggons and wagons
• Schuylkill and Schuylkil
• arcuato-declinate and arcuate-declinate
• cæca and cœca
• Macculloch and M’Culloch

The following are possible errors, but retained:

• unrol
• “at the height of fifty years or more”
• John Quincey Adams
• Daniel Boon
• “The matin calls”
• Persimons
• pork-rhind
• p. 487 of Vol. II should possibly be page 435 of that volume.

The Errata on [page 632] have been corrected in the text.

Links are provided to Volume 1 of this work. The links are designed to work when the book is read on line. If you want to download that volume and use the links, you will need to change the links to point to the file name on your own device.

Download Volume 1 at http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56989.

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ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY,

OR AN ACCOUNT OF THE HABITS OF THE

BIRDS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,

ACCOMPANIED BY DESCRIPTIONS OF THE OBJECTS REPRESENTED IN THE WORK ENTITLED

THE BIRDS OF AMERICA,

AND INTERSPERSED WITH DELINEATIONS OF AMERICAN SCENERY AND MANNERS.

BY JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, F.R.SS.L. & E.

FELLOW OF THE LINNEAN AND ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETIES OF LONDON; MEMBER OF THE LYCEUM OF NEW YORK, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF PARIS, THE WERNERIAN NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH; HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF NATURAL HISTORY OF MANCHESTER, AND OF THE SCOTTISH ACADEMY OF PAINTING, SCULPTURE, AND ARCHITECTURE; MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, OF THE ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES AT PHILADELPHIA, OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETIES OF BOSTON, OF CHARLESTON IN SOUTH CAROLINA, &C. &C.

Vol. III

EDINBURGH:

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;

LONGMAN, REES, BROWN, GREEN & LONGMAN, LONDON; R. HAVELL, ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, LONDON; THOMAS SOWLER, MANCHESTER; MRS ROBINSON, LEEDS; ALEXANDER HILL, EDINBURGH; J. HENRY BEILBY, BIRMINGHAM; E. CHARNLEY, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE; AND GEORGE SMITH, LIVERPOOL.

MDCCCXXXV.

PRINTED BY NEILL & Co.
Old Fishmarket, Edinburgh.

INTRODUCTION.

Ten years have now elapsed since the first number of my Illustrations of the Birds of America made its appearance. At that period I calculated that the engravers would take sixteen years in accomplishing their task; and this I announced in my prospectus, and talked of to my friends. Of the latter not a single individual seemed to have the least hope of my success, and several strongly advised me to abandon my plans, dispose of my drawings, and return to my country. I listened with attention to all that was urged on the subject, and often felt deeply depressed, for I was well aware of many of the difficulties to be surmounted, and perceived that no small sum of money would be required to defray the necessary expenses. Yet never did I seriously think of abandoning the cherished object of my hopes. When I delivered the first drawings to the engraver, I had not a single subscriber. Those who knew me best called me rash; some wrote to me that they did not expect to see a second fasciculus; and others seemed to anticipate the total failure of my enterprise. But my heart was nerved, and my reliance on that Power, on whom all must depend, brought bright anticipations of success.

Having made arrangements for meeting the first difficulties, I turned my attention to the improvement of my drawings, and began to collect from the pages of my journals the scattered notes which referred to the habits of the birds represented by them. I worked early and late, and glad I was to perceive that the more I laboured the more I improved. I was happy, too, to find, that in general each succeeding plate was better than its predecessor, and when those who had at first endeavoured to dissuade me from undertaking so vast an enterprise, complimented me on my more favourable prospects, I could not but feel happy. Number after number appeared in regular succession, until at the end of four years of anxiety, my engraver, Mr Havell, presented me with the First Volume of the Birds of America.

Convinced, from a careful comparison of the plates, that at least there had been no falling off in the execution, I looked forward with confidence to the termination of the next four years’ labour. Time passed on, and I returned from the forests and wilds of the western world to congratulate my friend Havell, just when the last plate of the second volume was finished.

About that time, a nobleman called upon me with his family, and requested me to shew them some of the original drawings, which I did with the more pleasure that my visitors possessed a knowledge of Ornithology. In the course of our conversation, I was asked how long it might be until the work should be finished. When I mentioned eight years more, the nobleman shrugged up his shoulders, and sighing, said, “I may not see it finished, but my children will, and you may please to add my name to your list of subscribers.” The young people exhibited a mingled expression of joy and sorrow, and when I with them strove to dispel the cloud that seemed to hang over their father’s mind, he smiled, bade me be sure to see that the whole work should be punctually delivered, and took his leave. The solemnity of his manner I could not forget for several days; I often thought that neither might I see the work completed, but at length I exclaimed “my sons may.” And now that another volume, both of my Illustrations and of my Biographies is finished, my trust in Providence is augmented, and I cannot but hope that myself and my family together may be permitted to see the completion of my labours.

I have performed no long journey since I last parted from you, and therefore I have little of personal history to relate to you. I have spent the greater part of the interval in London and Edinburgh, in both which cities I have continued to enjoy a social intercourse with many valued friends. In the former, it has been my good fortune to add to the list the names of William Yarrell, Esq., Dr Bell, Dr Boott, Captain James Clark Ross, R. N., and Dr Richardson. From Mr Yarrell and the two latter gentlemen, both well known to you as intrepid and successful travellers, I have received much valuable information, as well as precious specimens of birds and eggs, collected in the desolate regions of the extreme north. My anxiety to compare my specimens with those of the Zoological Society of London, induced me to request permission to do so, which the Council freely accorded. For this favour I now present my warm acknowledgments to the Noble Earl of Derby, the Members of the Council, their amiable Secretary Mr Bennett, and to Mr Gould, who had the kindness to select for me such specimens as I wanted. My friend Professor Jameson of Edinburgh has been equally kind in allowing me the means of comparing specimens. From America I have received some valuable information, and many interesting specimens of birds and eggs, for which I am indebted to the Rev. John Bachman, Dr Richard Harlan, Dr George Parkman, Edward Harris, Esq. and others.

The number of new species described in the present volume is not great. Among them, however, you will find the largest true Heron hitherto discovered in the United States. I have corrected some errors committed by authors, and have added to our Fauna several species which, although described by European writers, had not been observed in America. The habits of many species previously unknown have also been given in detail.

Having long ago observed, in works on the Birds of the United States, the omission of the females and the different appearances produced by the change of season in most water birds, I have represented the male accompanied by his mate, and, in as many instances as possible, the young also. The technical descriptions have been given at greater length than in the former volumes, with the view of preventing error even in comparing dried skins with either the figures or the descriptions. I have also given the average measurement of the eggs, which I regret I had omitted to do in the other volumes; an error which I purpose to atone for by presenting you, in the last number of my Illustrations, with figures of all those which I have collected.

The figures in the third volume of my Illustrations amount to one hundred and eighty-two, and are thus much fewer than those in either of the preceding volumes. This, however, was rendered necessary by the comparatively large size of the originals, the aquatic species of Birds greatly exceeding the terrestrial in this respect. Many of them in fact are so large that only a single figure could be given, and that not always in so good an attitude as I could have wished. For this reason I have sometimes been obliged to give the figure of the young in a separate plate; and this I shall in a few cases continue to do, in order to correct the errors of authors respecting certain species, which I have proved to be merely nominal. Still the number contained in the three volumes being six hundred and seventy-four, there are more than two to each species.

The engraving and colouring of the plates of this volume have generally been considered as much superior even to those of the second. Indeed, some of my patrons, both in Europe and America, have voluntarily expressed their conviction of the superiority of these plates. This is the more gratifying to me, that it proves the unremitted care and perseverance of Mr Havell and his assistants, of whom I mention with approbation Messrs Blake and Edington.

The Ornithology of the United States may be said to have been commenced by Alexander Wilson, whose premature death prevented him from completing his labours. It is unnecessary for me to say how well he performed the task which he had imposed upon himself; for all naturalists, and many who do not aspire to the name, acknowledge his great merits. But although he succeeded in observing and obtaining a very great number of our birds, he left for others many species which he was unable to procure. These have been sought for with eagerness, and not without success, by persons who have engaged in the pursuit with equal ardour. The Prince of Musignano, full of enthusiasm, having his judgment matured by long observation, and his mind stored with useful learning, collected in our woods and prairies, by our great rivers, and along our extended shores, materials sufficient for four superb volumes, intended as a continuation of Wilson’s work. Thomas Nuttall, equally learned and enthusiastic, next entered the field. His Manual of our Birds contains a mass of useful information, and is for the most part excellent. Many others have, in various ways, endeavoured to extend our knowledge on this subject; but with the exception of Thomas Say, none have published their discoveries in a connected form. Dr Harlan has given to the world an excellent account of our Mammalia; various works on Mollusca have appeared, and at present Dr Horlbeck of Charleston is engaged in publishing an account of our Reptiles.

Along our extended frontiers I have striven to observe and gather whatever had escaped the notice of the different collectors; and now, kind Reader, to prove to you that if not so fortunate as I had wished, I yet have done all that was in my power, I present you with a third volume of Ornithological Biographies, in which you will find some account of about sixty species of Water Birds not included in the works of Wilson. These, at one season or other, are to be met with along the shores or streams of the United States. Some of them are certainly very rare, others remarkable in form and habits; but all, I trust, you will find distinct from each other, and not inaccurately described.

The difficulties which are to be encountered in studying the habits of our Water Birds are great. He who follows the feathered inhabitants of the forests and plains, however rough or tangled the paths may be, seldom fails to obtain the objects of his pursuit, provided he be possessed of due enthusiasm and perseverance. The Land Bird flits from bush to bush, runs before you, and seldom extends its flight beyond the range of your vision. It is very different with the Water Bird, which sweeps afar over the wide ocean, hovers above the surges, or betakes itself for refuge to the inaccessible rocks on the shore. There, on the smooth sea-beach, you see the lively and active Sandpiper; on that rugged promontory the Dusky Cormorant; under the dark shade of yon cypress the Ibis and Heron; above you in the still air floats the Pelican or the Swan; while far over the angry billows scour the Fulmar and the Frigate bird. If you endeavour to approach these birds in their haunts, they betake themselves to flight, and speed to places where they are secure from your intrusion.

But the scarcer the fruit, the more prized it is; and seldom have I experienced greater pleasures than when on the Florida Keys, under a burning sun, after pushing my bark for miles over a soapy flat, I have striven all day long, tormented by myriads of insects, to procure a heron new to me, and have at length succeeded in my efforts. And then how amply are the labours of the naturalist compensated, when, after observing the wildest and most distrustful birds, in their remote and almost inaccessible breeding places, he returns from his journeys, and relates his adventures to an interested and friendly audience.

I look forward to the summer of 1838 with an anxious hope that I may then be able to present you with the last plate of my Illustrations, and the concluding volume of my Biographies. To render these volumes as complete as possible, I intend to undertake a journey to the southern and western limits of the Union, with the view of obtaining a more accurate knowledge of the birds of those remote and scarcely inhabited regions. On this tour I shall be accompanied by my youngest son, while the rest of my family will remain in Britain, to direct the progress of my publication.

In concluding these prefatory remarks, I have to inform you that one of the tail-pieces in my second volume, entitled “A Moose Hunt,” was communicated to me by my young friend Thomas Lincoln of Dennisville in Maine; and that it was at his particular request, and much against my wishes, that his name was not mentioned at the time. I have now, however, judged it proper to make this statement.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

Edinburgh, 1st December 1835.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

THE CANADA GOOSE.

Anser canadensis, Vieill.
PLATE CCI. Male and Female.

Although the Canada Goose is considered as a northern species, the number of individuals that remain at all seasons in the milder latitudes, and in different portions of the United States, fully entitles this bird to be looked upon as a permanent resident there. It is found to breed sparingly at the present day, by many of the lakes, lagoons, and large streams of our Western Districts, on the Missouri, the Mississippi, the lower parts of the Ohio, on Lake Erie, the lakes farther north, and in several large pools situated in the interior of the eastern parts of the States of Massachusetts and Maine. As you advance farther toward the east and north, you find it breeding more abundantly. While on my way to Labrador, I found it in the Magdeleine Islands, early in June, sitting on its eggs. In the Island of Anticosti there is a considerable stream, near the borders of which great numbers are said to be annually reared; and in Labrador these birds breed in every suitable marshy plain. The greater number of those which visit us from still more northern regions, return in the vernal season, like many other species, to the dismal countries which gave them birth.

Few if any of these birds spend the winter in Nova Scotia, my friend Mr Thomas M’Culloch having informed me that he never saw one about Pictou at that period. In spring, as they proceed northward, thousands are now and then seen passing high in the air; but in autumn, the flocks are considerably smaller, and fly much lower. During their spring movements, the principal places at which they stop to wait for milder days are Bay Chaleur, the Magdeleine Islands, Newfoundland, and Labrador, at all of which some remain to breed and spend the summer.

The general spring migration of the Canada Goose, may be stated to commence with the first melting of the snows in our Middle and Western Districts, or from the 20th of March to the end of April; but the precise time of its departure is always determined by the advance of the season, and the vast flocks that winter in the great savannahs or swampy prairies south-west of the Mississippi, such as exist in Opellousas, on the borders of the Arkansas River, or in the dismal “Ever Glades” of the Floridas, are often seen to take their flight, and steer their course northward, a month earlier than the first of the above mentioned periods. It is indeed probable that the individuals of a species most remote from the point at which the greater number ultimately assemble, commence their flight earlier than those which have passed the winter in stations nearer to it.

It is my opinion that all the birds of this species, which leave our States and territories each spring for the distant north, pair before they depart. This, no doubt, necessarily results from the nature of their place of summer residence, where the genial season is so short as scarcely to afford them sufficient time for bringing up their young and renewing their plumage, before the rigours of advancing winter force them to commence their flight towards milder countries. This opinion is founded on the following facts:—I have frequently observed large flocks of Geese, in ponds, on marshy grounds, or even on dry sand bars, the mated birds renewing their courtship as early as the month of January, while the other individuals would be contending or coquetting for hours every day, until all seemed satisfied with the choice they had made, after which, although they remained together, any person could easily perceive that they were careful to keep in pairs. I have observed also that the older the birds, the shorter were the preliminaries of their courtship, and that the barren individuals were altogether insensible to the manifestations of love and mutual affection that were displayed around them. The bachelors and old maids, whether in regret, or not caring to be disturbed by the bustle, quietly moved aside, and lay down on the grass or sand at some distance from the rest; and whenever the flocks rose on wing, or betook themselves to the water, these forlorn birds always kept behind. This mode of preparing for the breeding season has appeared to me the more remarkable, that, on reaching the place appointed for their summer residence, the birds of a flock separate in pairs, which form their nests and rear their young at a considerable distance from each other.

It is extremely amusing to witness the courtship of the Canada Goose in all its stages; and let me assure you, reader, that although a Gander does not strut before his beloved with the pomposity of a Turkey, or the grace of a Dove, his ways are quite as agreeable to the female of his choice. I can imagine before me one who has just accomplished the defeat of another male after a struggle of half an hour or more. He advances gallantly towards the object of contention, his head scarcely raised an inch from the ground, his bill open to its full stretch, his fleshy tongue elevated, his eyes darting fiery glances, and as he moves he hisses loudly, while the emotion which he experiences, causes his quills to shake, and his feathers to rustle. Now he is close to her who in his eyes is all loveliness; his neck bending gracefully in all directions, passes all round her, and occasionally touches her body; and as she congratulates him on his victory, and acknowledges his affection, they move their necks in a hundred curious ways. At this moment fierce jealousy urges the defeated gander to renew his efforts to obtain his love; he advances apace, his eye glowing with the fire of rage; he shakes his broad wings, ruffles up his whole plumage, and as he rushes on the foe, hisses with the intensity of anger. The whole flock seems to stand amazed, and opening up a space, the birds gather round to view the combat. The bold bird who has been caressing his mate, scarcely deigns to take notice of his foe, but seems to send a scornful glance towards him. He of the mortified feelings, however, raises his body, half opens his sinewy wings, and with a powerful blow, sends forth his defiance. The affront cannot be borne in the presence of so large a company, nor indeed is there much disposition to bear it in any circumstances; the blow is returned with vigour, the aggressor reels for a moment, but he soon recovers, and now the combat rages. Were the weapons more deadly, feats of chivalry would now be performed; as it is, thrust and blow succeed each other like the strokes of hammers driven by sturdy forgers. But now, the mated gander has caught hold of his antagonist’s head with his bill; no bull-dog could cling faster to his victim; he squeezes him with all the energy of rage, lashes him with his powerful wings, and at length drives him away, spreads out his pinions, runs with joy to his mate, and fills the air with cries of exultation.

But now, see yonder, not a couple, but half a dozen of ganders are engaged in battle! Some desperado, it seems, has fallen upon a mated bird, and several bystanders, as if sensible of the impropriety of such conduct, rush to the assistance of the wronged one. How they strive and tug, biting, and striking with their wings! and how their feathers fly about! Exhausted, abashed, and mortified, the presumptuous intruder retreats in disgrace;—there he lies almost breathless on the sand!

Such are the conflicts of these ardent lovers, and so full of courage and of affection towards their females are they, that the approach of a male invariably ruffles their tempers as well as their feathers. No sooner has the goose laid her first egg, than her bold mate stands almost erect by her side, watching even the rustling sound of the breeze. The least noise brings from him a sound of anger. Should he spy a racoon making its way among the grass, he walks up to him undauntedly, hurls a vigorous blow at him, and drives him instantly away. Nay I doubt if man himself, if unarmed, would come off unscathed in such an encounter. The brave gander does more; for, if imminent danger excite him, he urges his mate to fly off, and resolutely remains near the nest until he is assured of her safety, when he also betakes himself to flight, mocking as it were by his notes his disappointed enemy.

Suppose all to be peace and quiet around the fond pair, and the female to be sitting in security upon her eggs. The nest is placed near the bank of a noble stream or lake; the clear sky is spread over the scene, the bright beams glitter on the waters, and a thousand odorous flowers give beauty to the swamp which of late was so dismal. The gander passes to and fro over the liquid element, moving as if lord of the waters; now he inclines his head with a graceful curve, now sips to quench his thirst; and, as noontide has arrived, he paddles his way towards the shore, to relieve for a while his affectionate and patient consort. The lisping sounds of their offspring are heard through the shell; their little bills have formed a breach in the inclosing walls; full of life, and bedecked with beauty, they come forth, with tottering steps and downy covering. Toward the water they now follow their careful parent, they reach the border of the stream, their mother already floats on the loved element, one after another launches forth, and now the flock glides gently along. What a beautiful sight! Close by the grassy margin, the mother slowly leads her innocent younglings; to one she shews the seed of the floating grass, to another points out the crawling slug. Her careful eye watches the cruel turtle, the garfish, and the pike, that are lurking for their prey, and, with head inclined, she glances upwards to the eagle or the gull that are hovering over the water in search of food. A ferocious bird dashes at her young ones; she instantly plunges beneath the surface, and, in the twinkling of an eye, her brood disappear after her; now they are among the thick rushes, with nothing above water but their little bills. The mother is marching towards the land, having lisped to her brood in accents so gentle that none but they and her mate can understand their import, and all are safely lodged under cover until the disappointed eagle or gull bears away.

More than six weeks have now elapsed. The down of the goslings, which was at first soft and tufty, has become coarse and hairlike. Their wings are edged with quills, and their bodies bristled with feathers. They have increased in size, and, living in the midst of abundance, they have become fat, so that on shore they make their way with difficulty, and as they are yet unable to fly, the greatest care is required to save them from their numerous enemies. They grow apace, and now the burning days of August are over. They are able to fly with ease from one shore to another, and as each successive night the hoarfrosts cover the country, and the streams are closed over by the ice, the family joins that in their neighbourhood, which is also joined by others. At length they spy the advance of a snow-storm, when the ganders with one accord sound the order for their departure.

After many wide circlings, the flock has risen high in the thin air, and an hour or more is spent in teaching the young the order in which they are to move. But now, the host has been marshalled, and off it starts, shewing, as it proceeds, at one time an extended front, at another a single lengthened file, and now arraying itself in an angular form. The old males advance in front, the females follow, the young come in succession according to their strength, the weakest forming the rear. Should one feel fatigued, his position is changed in the ranks, and he assumes a place in the wake of another, who cleaves the air before him; perhaps the parent bird flies for a while by his side to encourage him. Two, three, or more days elapse before they reach a secure resting place. The fat with which they were loaded at their departure has rapidly wasted; they are fatigued, and experience the keen gnawings of hunger; but now they spy a wide estuary, towards which they direct their course. Alighting on the water, they swim to the beach, stand, and gaze around them; the young full of joy, the old full of fear, for well are they aware that many foes have been waiting their arrival. Silent all night remains the flock, but not inactive; with care they betake themselves to the grassy shores, where they allay the cravings of appetite, and recruit their wasted strength. Soon as the early dawn lightens the surface of the deep they rise into the air, extend their lines, and proceed southward, until arriving in some place where they think they may be enabled to rest in security, they remain during the winter. At length, after many annoyances, they joyfully perceive the return of spring, and prepare to fly away from their greatest enemy, man.

The Canada Goose often arrives in our Western and Middle Districts as early as the beginning of September, and does not by any means confine itself to the seashore. Indeed, my opinion is, that for every hundred seen during the winter along our large bays and estuaries, as many thousands may be found in the interior of the country, where they frequent the large ponds, rivers, and wet savannahs. During my residence in the State of Kentucky, I never spent a winter without observing immense flocks of these birds, especially in the neighbourhood of Henderson, where I have killed many hundreds of them, as well as on the Falls of the Ohio at Louisville, and in the neighbouring country, which abounds in ponds overgrown with grasses and various species of Nympheæ, on the seeds of which they greedily feed. Indeed all the lakes situated within a few miles of the Missouri and Mississippi, or their tributaries, are still amply supplied with them from the middle of autumn to the beginning of spring. In these places, too, I have found them breeding, although sparingly. It seems to me more than probable, that the species bred abundantly in the temperate parts of North America before the white population extended over them. This opinion is founded on the relations of many old and respectable citizens of our country, and in particular of General George Clark, one of the first settlers on the banks of the Ohio, who, at a very advanced age, assured me that, fifty years before the period when our conversation took place (about seventy-five years from the present time), wild geese were so plentiful at all seasons of the year, that he was in the habit of having them shot to feed his soldiers, then garrisoned near Vincennes, in the present State of Indiana. My father, who travelled down the Ohio shortly after Bradock’s defeat, related the same to me; and I, as well as many persons now residing at Louisville in Kentucky, well remember that, twenty-five or thirty years ago, it was quite easy to procure young Canada Geese in the ponds around. So late as 1819, I have met with the nests, eggs, and young of this species near Henderson. However, as I have already said, the greater number remove far north to breed. I have never heard of an instance of their breeding in the Southern States. Indeed, so uncongenial to their constitution seems the extreme heat of these parts to be, that the attempts made to rear them in a state of domestication very rarely succeed.

The Canada Goose, when it remains with us to breed, begins to form its nest in March, making choice of some retired place not far from the water, generally among the rankest grass, and not unfrequently under a bush. It is carefully formed of dry plants of various kinds, and is of a large size, flat, and raised to the height of several inches. Once only did I find a nest elevated above the ground. It was placed on the stump of a large tree, standing in the centre of a small pond, about twenty feet high, and contained five eggs. As the spot was very secluded, I did not disturb the birds, anxious as I was to see in what manner they should convey the young to the water. But in this I was disappointed, for, on going to the nest, near the time at which I expected the process of incubation to terminate, I had the mortification to find that a racoon, or some other animal, had destroyed the whole of the eggs, and that the birds had abandoned the place. The greatest number of eggs which I have found in the nest of this species was nine, which I think is more by three than these birds usually lay in a wild state. In the nests of those which I have had in a domesticated state, I have sometimes counted as many as eleven, several of them, however, usually proving unproductive. The eggs measure, on an average, 3 1/2 inches by 2 1/2, are thick shelled, rather smooth, and of a very dull yellowish-green colour. The period of incubation is twenty-eight days. They never have more than one brood in a season, unless their eggs are removed or broken at an early period.

The young follow their parents to the water a day or two after they have issued from the egg, but generally return to land to repose in the sunshine in the evening, and pass the night there under their mother, who employs all imaginable care to ensure their comfort and safety, as does her mate, who never leaves her during incubation for a longer time than is necessary for procuring food, and takes her place at intervals. Both remain with their brood until the following spring. It is during the breeding-season that the gander displays his courage and strength to the greatest advantage. I knew one that appeared larger than usual, and of which all the lower parts were of a rich cream colour. It returned three years in succession to a large pond a few miles from the mouth of Green River in Kentucky, and whenever I visited the nest, it seemed to look upon me with utter contempt. It would stand in a stately attitude, until I reached within a few yards of the nest, when suddenly lowering its head, and shaking it as if it were dislocated from the neck, it would open its wings, and launch into the air, flying directly at me. So daring was this fine fellow, that in two instances he struck me a blow with one of his wings on the right arm, which, for an instant, I thought, was broken. I observed that immediately after such an effort to defend his nest and mate, he would run swiftly towards them, pass his head and neck several times over and around the female, and again assume his attitude of defiance.

Always intent on making experiments, I thought of endeavouring to conciliate this bold son of the waters. For this purpose I always afterwards took with me several ears of corn, which I shelled, and threw towards him. It remained untouched for several days; but I succeeded at last, and before the end of a week both birds fed freely on the grain even in my sight! I felt much pleasure on this occasion, and repeating my visit daily, found, that before the eggs were hatched, they would allow me to approach within a few feet of them, although they never suffered me to touch them. Whenever I attempted this the male met my fingers with his bill, and bit me so severely that I gave it up. The great beauty and courage of the male rendered me desirous of obtaining possession of him. I had marked the time at which the young were likely to appear, and on the preceding day I baited with corn a large coop made of twine, and waited until he should enter. He walked in, I drew the string, and he was my prisoner. The next morning the female was about to lead her offspring to the river, which was distant nearly half a mile, when I caught the whole of the young birds, and with them the mother too, who came within reach in attempting to rescue one of her brood, and had them taken home. There I took a cruel method of preventing their escape, for with a knife I pinioned each of them on the same side, and turned them loose in my garden, where I had a small but convenient artificial pond. For more than a fortnight, both the old birds appeared completely cowed. Indeed, for some days I felt apprehensive that they would abandon the care of the young ones. However, with much attention, I succeeded in rearing the latter by feeding them abundantly with the larvæ of locusts, which they ate greedily, as well as with corn-meal moistened with water, and the whole flock, consisting of eleven individuals, went on prosperously. In December the weather became intensely cold, and I observed that now and then the gander would spread his wings, and sound a loud note, to which the female first, and then all the young ones in succession, would respond, when they would all run as far as the ground allowed them in a southerly direction, and attempt to fly off. I kept the whole flock three years. The old pair never bred while in my possession, but two pairs of the young ones did, one of them raising three, the other seven. They all bore a special enmity to dogs, and shewed dislike to cats; but they manifested a still greater animosity towards an old swan and a wild turkey-cock which I had. I found them useful in clearing the garden of slugs and snails; and although they now and then nipped the vegetables, I liked their company. When I left Henderson, my flock of geese was given away, and I have not since heard how it has fared with them.

On one of my shooting excursions in the same neighbourhood, I chanced one day to kill a wild Canada Goose, which, on my return, was sent to the kitchen. The cook, while dressing it, found in it an egg ready for being laid, and brought it to me. It was placed under a common hen, and in due time hatched. Two years afterwards the bird thus raised, mated with a male of the same species, and produced a brood. This goose was so gentle that she would suffer any person to caress her, and would readily feed from the hand. She was smaller than usual, but in every other respect as perfect as any I have ever seen. At the period of migration she shewed by her movements less desire to fly off than any other I have known; but her mate, who had once been free, did not participate in this apathy.

I have not been able to discover why many of those birds which I have known to have been reared from the egg, or to have been found when very young and brought up in captivity, were so averse to reproduce, unless they were naturally sterile. I have seen several that had been kept for more than eight years, without ever mating during that period, while other individuals had young the second spring after their birth. I have also observed that an impatient male would sometimes abandon the females of his species, and pay his addresses to a common tame goose, by which a brood would in due time be brought up, and would thrive. That this tardiness is not the case in the wild state I feel pretty confident, for I have observed having broods of their own many individuals which, by their size, the dulness of their plumage, and such other marks as are known to the practical ornithologist, I judged to be not more than fifteen or sixteen months old. I have therefore thought that in this, as in many other species, a long series of years is necessary for counteracting the original wild and free nature which has been given them; and indeed it seems probable that our attempts to domesticate many species of wild fowls, which would prove useful to mankind, have often been abandoned in despair, when a few years more of constant care might have produced the desired effect.

The Canada Goose, although immediately after the full development of its young it becomes gregarious, does not seem to be fond of the company of any other species. Thus, whenever the White-fronted Goose, the Snow Goose, the Brent Goose, or others, alight in the same ponds, it forces them to keep at a respectful distance; and during its migrations I have never observed a single bird of any other kind in its ranks.

The flight of this species of Goose is firm, rather rapid, and capable of being protracted to a great extent. When once high in the air, they advance with extreme steadiness and regularity of motion. In rising from the water or from the ground, they usually run a few feet with outspread wings; but when suddenly surprised and in full plumage, a single spring on their broad webbed feet is sufficient to enable them to get on wing. While travelling to some considerable distance, they pass through the air at the height of about a mile, steadily following a direct course towards the point to which they are bound. Their notes are distinctly heard, and the various changes made in the disposition of their ranks are easily seen. But although on these occasions they move with the greatest regularity, yet when they are slowly advancing from south to north at an early period of the season, they fly much lower, alight more frequently, and are more likely to be bewildered by suddenly formed banks of fog, or by passing over cities or arms of the sea where much shipping may be in sight. On such occasions great consternation prevails among them, they crowd together in a confused manner, wheel irregularly, and utter a constant cackling resembling the sounds from a disconcerted mob. Sometimes the flock separates, some individuals leave the rest, proceed in a direction contrary to that in which they came, and after a while, as if quite confused, sail towards the ground, once alighted on which they appear to become almost stupified, so as to suffer themselves to be shot with ease, or even knocked down with sticks. This I have known to take place on many occasions, besides those of which I have myself been a witness. Heavy snow-storms also cause them great distress, and in the midst of them some have been known to fly against beacons and lighthouses, dashing their heads against the walls in the middle of the day. In the night they are attracted by the lights of these buildings, and now and then a whole flock is caught on such occasions. At other times their migrations northward are suddenly checked by a change of weather, the approach of which seems to be well known to them, for they will suddenly wheel and fly back in a southern direction several hundred miles. In this manner I have known flocks to return to the places which they had left a fortnight before. Nay even during the winter months, they are keenly sensible to changes of temperature, flying north or south in search of feeding-grounds, with so much knowledge of the future state of the weather, that one may be assured when he sees them proceeding southward in the evening, that the next morning will be cold, and vice versa.

The Canada Goose is less shy when met with far inland, than when on the sea-coast, and the smaller the ponds or lakes to which they resort, the more easy it is to approach them. They usually feed in the manner of Swans and fresh-water Ducks, that is, by plunging their heads towards the bottom of shallow ponds or the borders of lakes and rivers, immersing their fore parts, and frequently exhibiting their legs and feet with the posterior portion of their body elevated in the air. They never dive on such occasions. If feeding in the fields or meadows, they nip the blades of grass sidewise, in the manner of the Domestic Goose, and after rainy weather, they are frequently seen rapidly patting the earth with both feet, as if to force the earth-worms from their burrows. If they dabble at times with their bills in muddy water, in search of food, this action is by no means so common with them as it is with Ducks, the Mallard for example. They are extremely fond of alighting in corn-fields covered with tender blades, where they often remain through the night and commit great havoc. Wherever you find them, and however remote from the haunts of man the place may be, they are at all times so vigilant and suspicious, that it is extremely rare to surprise them. In keenness of sight and acuteness of hearing, they are perhaps surpassed by no bird whatever. They act as sentinels towards each other, and during the hours at which the flock reposes, one or more ganders stand on the watch. At the sight of cattle, horses, or animals of the deer kind, they are seldom alarmed, but a bear or a cougar is instantly announced, and if on such occasions the flock is on the ground near water, the birds immediately betake themselves in silence to the latter, swim to the middle of the pond or river, and there remain until danger is over. Should their enemies pursue them in the water, the males utter loud cries, and the birds arrange themselves in close ranks, rise simultaneously in a few seconds, and fly off in a compact body, seldom at such times forming lines or angles, it being in fact only when the distance they have to travel is great that they dispose themselves in those forms. So acute is their sense of hearing, that they are able to distinguish the different sounds or footsteps of their foes with astonishing accuracy. Thus the breaking of a dry stick by a deer is at once distinguished from the same accident occasioned by a man. If a dozen of large turtles drop into the water, making a great noise in their fall, or if the same effect is produced by an alligator, the Wild Goose pays no regard to it; but however faint and distant may be the sound of an Indian’s paddle, that may by accident have struck the side of his canoe, it is at once marked, every individual raises its head and looks intently towards the place from which the noise has proceeded, and in silence all watch the movements of their enemy.

These birds are extremely cunning also, and should they conceive themselves unseen, they silently move into the tall grasses by the margin of the water, lower their heads, and lie perfectly quiet until the boat has passed by. I have seen them walk off from a large frozen pond into the woods, to elude the sight of the hunter, and return as soon as he had crossed the pond. But should there be snow on the ice or in the woods, they prefer watching the intruder, and take to wing long before he is within shooting distance, as if aware of the ease with which they could be followed by their tracks over the treacherous surface.

The Canada Geese are fond of returning regularly to the place which they have chosen for resting in, and this they continue to do until they find themselves greatly molested while there. In parts of the country where they are little disturbed, they seldom go farther than the nearest sandbank or the dry shore of the places in which they feed; but in other parts they retire many miles to spots of greater security, and of such extent as will enable them to discover danger long before it can reach them. When such a place is found, and proves secure, many flocks resort to it, but alight apart in separate groups. Thus, on some of the great sandbars of the Ohio, the Mississippi, and other large streams, congregated flocks, often amounting to a thousand individuals, may be seen at the approach of night, which they spend there, lying on the sand within a few feet of each other, every flock having its own sentinel. In the dawn of next morning they rise on their feet, arrange and clean their feathers, perhaps walk to the water to drink, and then depart for their feeding grounds.

When I first went to the Falls of the Ohio, the rocky shelvings of which are often bare for fully half a mile, thousands of wild geese of this species rested there at night. The breadth of the various channels that separate the rocky islands from either shore, and the rapidity of the currents which sweep along them, render this place of resort more secure than most others. The wild geese still betake themselves to these islands during winter for the same purpose, but their number has become very small; and so shy are these birds at present in the neighbourhood of Louisville, that the moment they are disturbed at the ponds where they go to feed each morning, were it but by the report of a single gun, they immediately return to their rocky asylums. Even there, however, they are by no means secure, for it not unfrequently happens that a flock alights within half gunshot of a person concealed in a pile of drifted wood, whose aim generally proves too true for their peace. Nay, I knew a gentleman, who had a large mill opposite Rock Island, and who used to kill the poor geese at the distance of about a quarter of a mile, by means of a small cannon heavily charged with rifle bullets; and, if I recollect truly, Mr Tarascon in this manner not unfrequently obtained a dozen or more geese at a shot. This was done at dawn, when the birds were busily engaged in trimming their plumage with the view of flying off in a few minutes to their feeding grounds. This war of extermination could not last long: the geese deserted the fatal rock, and the great gun of the mighty miller was used only for a few weeks.

While on the water, the Canada Goose moves with considerable grace, and in its general deportment resembles the wild Swan, to which I think it is nearly allied. If wounded in the wing, they sometimes dive to a small depth, and make off with astonishing address, always in the direction of the shore, the moment they reach which, you see them sneaking through the grass or bushes, their necks extended an inch or so above the ground, and in this manner proceeding so silently, that, unless closely watched, they are pretty sure to escape. If shot at and wounded while on the ice, they immediately walk off in a dignified manner, as if anxious to make you believe that they have not been injured, emitting a loud note all the while; but the instant they reach the shore they become silent, and make off in the manner described. I was much surprised one day, while on the coast of Labrador, to see how cunningly one of these birds, which, in consequence of the moult, was quite unable to fly, managed for a while to elude our pursuit. It was first perceived at some distance from the shore, when the boat was swiftly rowed towards it, and it swam before us with great speed, making directly towards the land; but when we came within a few yards of it, it dived, and nothing could be seen of it for a long time. Every one of the party stood on tiptoe to mark the spot at which it should rise, but all in vain, when the man at the rudder accidentally looked down over the stern and there saw the goose, its body immersed, the point of its bill alone above water, and its feet busily engaged in propelling it so as to keep pace with the movements of the boat. The sailor attempted to catch it while within a foot or two of him, but with the swiftness of thought it shifted from side to side, fore and aft, until delighted at having witnessed so much sagacity in a goose, I begged the party to suffer the poor bird to escape.

The crossing of the Canada Goose with the common domestic species has proved as advantageous as that of the wild with the tame Turkey, the cross breed being much larger than the original one, more easily raised, and more speedily fattened. This process is at present carried on to a considerable extent in our Western and Eastern States, where the hybrids are regularly offered for sale during autumn and winter, and where they bring a higher price than either of the species from which they are derived.

The Canada Goose makes its first appearance in the western country, as well as along our Atlantic coast, from the middle of September to that of October, arriving in flocks composed of a few families. The young birds procured at this early season soon get into good order, become tender and juicy, and therefore afford excellent eating. If a sportsman is expert and manages to shoot the old birds first, he is pretty sure to capture the less wily young ones afterwards, as they will be very apt to return to the same feeding places to which their parents had led them at their first arrival. To await their coming to a pond where they are known to feed is generally effectual, but to me this mode of proceeding never afforded much pleasure, more especially because the appearance of any other bird which I wished to obtain would at once induce me to go after it, and thus frighten the game, so that I rarely procured any on such occasions. But yet, as I have witnessed the killing of many a fine goose, I hope you will suffer me to relate one or two anecdotes connected with the shooting of this kind of game.

Reader, I am well acquainted with one of the best sportsmen now living in the whole of the western country, one possessed of strength, activity, courage, and patience,—qualities of great importance in a gunner. I have frequently seen him mount a capital horse of speed and bottom at midnight, when the mercury in the thermometer was about the freezing point, and the ground was covered with snow and ice, the latter of which so encased the trees that you might imagine them converted into glass. Well, off he goes at a round gallop, his steed rough shod, but nobody knows whither, save myself, who am always by his side. He has a wallet containing our breakfast, and abundance of ammunition, together with such implements as are necessary on occasions like the present. The night is pitch-dark, and dismal enough; but who cares! He knows the woods as well as any Kentucky hunter, and in this respect I am not much behind him. A long interval has passed, and now the first glimpse of day appears in the east. We know quite well where we are, and that we have travelled just twenty miles. The Barred Owl alone interrupts the melancholy silence of the hour. Our horses we secure, and on foot we move cautiously towards a “long pond,” the feeding-place of several flocks of geese, none of which have yet arrived, although the whole surface of open water is covered with Mallards, Widgeons, Pintail Ducks, Blue-winged and Green-winged Teals. My friend’s gun, like mine, is a long and trusty one, and the opportunity is too tempting. On all fours we cautiously creep to the very edge of the pond; we now raise ourselves on our knees, level our pieces, and let fly. The woods resound with repeated echoes, the air is filled with Ducks of all sorts, our dogs dash into the half frozen water, and in a few minutes a small heap of game lies at our feet. Now, we retire, separate, and betake ourselves to different sides of the pond. If I may judge of my companion’s fingers by the state of my own, I may feel certain that it would be difficult for him to fasten a button. There we are shivering, with contracted feet and chattering teeth; but the geese are coming, and their well known cry, hauk, hauk, awhawk, awhawk, resounds through the air. They wheel and wheel for a while, but at length gracefully alight on the water, and now they play and wash themselves, and begin to look about for food. There must be at least twenty of them. Twenty more soon arrive, and in less than half an hour we have before us a flock of a hundred individuals. My experienced friend has put a snow-white shirt over his apparel, and although I am greatly intent on observing his motions, I see that it is impossible even for the keen eye of the sentinel goose to follow them. Bang, bang, quoth his long gun, and the birds in dismay instantly start, and fly towards the spot where I am. When they approach I spring up on my feet, the geese shuffle, and instantaneously rise upright; I touch my triggers singly, and broken-winged and dead two birds come heavily to the ground at my feet. Oh that we had more guns! But the business at this pond has been transacted. We collect our game, return to our horses, fasten the necks of the geese and ducks together, and throwing them across our saddles, proceed towards another pond. In this manner we continue to shoot until the number of geese obtained would seem to you so very large that I shall not specify it.

At another time my friend proceeds alone to the Falls of the Ohio, and, as usual, reaches the margins of the stream long before day. His well-trained steed plunges into the whirls of the rapid current, and, with some difficulty, carries his bold rider to an island, where he lands drenched and cold. The horse knows what he has to do as well as his master, and while the former ranges about and nips the frozen herbage, the latter carefully approaches a well-known pile of drifted wood, and conceals himself in it. His famous dog Nep is close at his heels. Now the dull grey dawn gives him a dim view of the geese; he fires, several fall on the spot, and one severely wounded rises and alights in the Indian Chute. Neptune dashes after it, but as the current is powerful, the gunner whistles to his horse, who, with pricked ears, gallops up. He instantly vaults into the saddle, and now see them plunge into the treacherous stream. The wounded game is overtaken, the dog is dragged along, and at length on the Indiana shore the horse and his rider have effected a landing. Any other man than he of whose exploits I am the faithful recorder, would have perished long ago. But it is not half so much for the sake of the plunder that he undergoes all this labour and danger, as for the gratification it affords his kind heart to distribute the game among his numerous friends in Louisville.

On our eastern shores matters are differently managed. The gunners there shoot geese with the prospect of pecuniary gain, and go to work in another way. Some attract them with wooden geese, others with actual birds; they lie in ambush for many hours at a time, and destroy an immense number of them, by using extremely long guns; but as there is little sport in this sort of shooting, I shall say no more about it. Here the Canada Goose feeds much on a species of long slender grass, the Zostera marina, along with marine insects, crustacea, and small shell-fish, all of which have a tendency to destroy the agreeable flavour which their flesh has when their food consists of fresh-water plants, corn, and grass. They spend much of their time at some distance from the shores, become more shy, diminish in bulk, and are much inferior as food to those which visit the interior of the country. None of these, however, are at all to be compared with the goslings bred in the inland districts, and procured in September, when, in my opinion, they far surpass the renowned Canvass-backed Duck.

A curious mode of shooting the Canada Goose I have practised with much success. I have sunk in the sand of the bars to which these birds resort at night, a tight hogshead, to within an inch of its upper edges, and placing myself within it at the approach of evening, have drawn over me a quantity of brushwood, placing my gun on the sand, and covering it in like manner with twigs and leaves. The birds would sometimes alight very near me, and in this concealment I have killed several at a shot; but the stratagem answers for only a few nights in the season. During severe winters these birds are able to keep certain portions of the deepest parts of a pond quite open and free from ice, by their continued movements in the water; at all events, such open spaces occasionally occur in ponds and lakes, and are resorted to by the geese, among which great havoc is made.

It is alleged in the State of Maine that a distinct species of Canada Goose resides there, which is said to be much smaller than the one now under your notice, and is described as resembling it in all other particulars. Like the true Canada Goose, it builds a large nest, which it lines with its own down. Sometimes it is placed on the sea-shore, at other times by the margin of a fresh-water lake or pond. That species is distinguished there by the name of Flight Goose, and is said to be entirely migratory, whereas the Canada Goose is resident. But, notwithstanding all my exertions, I did not succeed in procuring so much as a feather of this alleged species.

While we were at Newfoundland, on our return from Labrador, on the 15th August 1833, small flocks of the Canada Goose were already observed flying southward. In that country their appearance is hailed with delight, and great numbers of them are shot. They breed rather abundantly by the lakes of the interior of that interesting country. In the harbour of Great Macatina in Labrador, I saw a large pile of young Canada Geese, that had been procured a few days before, and were already salted for winter use. The pile consisted of several hundred individuals, all of which had been killed before they were able to fly. I was told there that this species fed much on the leaves of the dwarf firs, and, on examining their gizzards, found the statement to be correct.

The young dive very expertly, soon after their reaching the water, at the least appearance of danger. In the Southern and Western States, the enemies of the Canada Goose are, by water, the Alligator, the Garfish, and the Turtle; and on land, the Cougar, the Lynx, and the Racoon. While in the air, they are liable to be attacked by the White-headed Eagle. It is a very hardy bird, and individuals have been kept in a state of captivity or domestication for upwards of forty years. Every portion of it is useful to man, for besides the value of the flesh as an article of food, the feathers, the quills, and the fat, are held in request. The eggs also afford very good eating.

Anas canadensis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 198.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 838.

Anser canadensis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 377.

Canada Goose, Anas canadensis, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 52. pl. 67. fig. 4.

Anser canadensis, Canada Goose, Swains. and Richards. Fauna Bor. Amer. p. 468.

Canada Goose, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 349.

Adult Male. Plate CCI. Fig. 1.

Bill shorter than the head, rather higher than broad at the base, somewhat conical, depressed towards the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line sloping, the ridge broad and flattened, the sides sloping, the edges soft and obtuse, the oblique marginal lamellæ short, transverse, about thirty on each side; the unguis obovate, convex, denticulate on the inner edge. Nasal groove oblong, parallel to the ridge, filled by the soft membrane of the bill; nostrils medial, lateral, longitudinal, narrow-elliptical, open, pervious. Lower mandible straight, with the angle very long, narrow, and rounded, the edges soft and obtuse, with about thirty oblique lamellæ on a perpendicular plane.

Head small, oblong, compressed. Neck long and slender. Body full, slightly depressed. Feet short, stout, placed behind the centre of the body; legs bare a little above the tibio-tarsal joint; tarsus short, a little compressed, covered all round with angular reticulated scales, which are smaller behind; hind toe very small, with a narrow membrane; third toe longest, fourth a little shorter, but longer than second; all the toes reticulated above at the base, but with narrow transverse scutella towards the end; the three anterior connected by a reticulated membrane, the outer with a thick margin, the inner with the margin extended into a two-lobed web; claws small, arched, rather compressed, except that of the middle toe, which is bent obliquely outwards and depressed, with a curved edge. Wings of moderate length, with an obtuse protuberance at the flexure.

Plumage close, rather short, compact above, blended on the neck and lower parts of the body. The feathers of the head and neck very narrow, of the back very broad and abrupt, of the breast and belly broadly rounded. Wings, when closed, extending to about an inch from the end of the tail, acute; primaries very strong, curved, the second longest, the third slightly shorter, the first almost as long as the third, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries long, rather narrow, rounded. Tail very short, rounded, of eighteen stiff, rounded, but acuminate, feathers.

Bill, feet, and claws black. Iris chestnut-brown. Head and two upper thirds of the neck glossy black; forehead, cheeks, and chin, tinged with brown; lower eyelid white; a broad band of the same across the throat to behind the eyes; rump and tail-feathers also black. The general colour of the rest of the upper parts is greyish-brown, the wing-coverts shaded into ash-grey; all the feathers terminally edged with very pale brown; the lower part of the neck passing into greyish-white, which is the general colour of the lower parts, with the exception of the abdomen, which is pure white, the sides, which are pale brownish-grey, the feathers tipped with white, and the lower wing-coverts, which are also pale brownish-grey. The margins of the rump, and the upper tail-coverts, pure white.

In very old males, I have found the breast of a fine pale buff.

Length to end of tail 43 inches, extent of wings 65; bill along the ridge 2 1/2, in depth at the base 1 2/12, in breadth 1; tarsus 3 7/12; middle toe and claw 4 1/4; wing from flexure 20; tail 7 1/2. Weight 7 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCI. Fig. 2.

The Female is somewhat less than the male, but similar in colouring, although the tints are duller. The white of the throat is tinged with brown; the lower parts are always more grey, and the black of the head, neck, rump, and tail, is shaded with brown.

Length 41 inches. Weight 5 3/4 lb.

THE RED-THROATED DIVER.

Colymbus septentrionalis, Linn.
PLATE CCII. Male in summer, Young Male in winter, Female, and Young unfledged.

Whilst the icicles are yet hanging from the rocks of our eastern shores, and the snows are gradually giving way under the influence of the April rains, the Bluebird is heard to sound the first notes of his love-song, and the Red-throated Diver is seen to commence his flight. Already paired, the male and female, side by side, move swiftly through the air, steering their course, at a great height, towards some far distant region of the dreary north. Pair after pair advance at intervals during the whole day, and perhaps continue their journey all night. Their long necks are extended, their feet stretched out rudder-like beyond the short tail, and onwards they speed, beating the air with great regularity. Now they traverse a great arm of the sea, now cross a peninsula; but let what may intervene, their undeviating course holds straight forwards, as the needle points to its pole. High as they are, you can perceive the brilliant white of their lower parts. Onward they speed in silence, and as I stand gazing after them, they have already disappeared from my view.

The middle of May has arrived; our woods are once more filled with the melodies of numberless warblers, and the Divers have ceased to be seen on our eastern coasts. To study their habits at this season, we must follow them to the islands in the mouth of the broad St Lawrence, or to the granitic rocks of Labrador. The voyage cannot be performed without great expense, and may be attended with danger, but enthusiasm urges me on, and now my bark skims over the blue waters. At length arrived on the rocky shores, I prepare to visit the interior of that rude and moss-clad region. Thousands of little lakes are seen, on which are numberless islets richly clad with grass and sedge, the whole of which seems as if it had grown in a day, so tender are the fresh blades, and so pure their light green tint. High over these waters, the produce of the melted snows, the Red-throated Diver is seen gambolling by the side of his mate. The males emit their love-notes, and, with necks gracefully curved downwards, speed by the females, saluting them with mellow tones as they pass. In broad circles they wheel their giddy flight, and now, with fantastic glidings and curves, they dive towards the spot of their choice. Alighted on the water, how gracefully they swim, how sportively they beat it with their strong pinions, how quickly they plunge and rise again, and how joyously do they manifest to each other the depth and intensity of their affection! Now with erected neck and body deeply immersed they swim side by side. Reynard they perceive cunningly advancing at a distance; but they are too vigilant for him, and down like a flash they go, nor rise again until far beyond his reach. Methinks I see them curiously concealed among the rank weeds under the bank of their own islet, their bills alone raised above the water, and there will they remain for an hour, rather than shew themselves to their insidious enemy, who, disappointed, leaves them to pursue their avocations.

The Red-throated Diver is found, in tolerable abundance, on the sea-coast of the United States during autumn, winter, and early spring, from Maryland to the extremities of Maine. The younger the birds, the farther south do they proceed to spend the winter, and it is rare to see an old bird, of either sex, at any season to the south of the Bay of Boston. Farther eastward they become more common, and they may be said to be plentiful towards the entrance of the Bay of Fundy, in the vicinity of which a few remain and breed. I found some in December, January, and February at Boston, where I procured males, females, and young birds. The old had the red patch on the throat rather darker than in the breeding season; the delicate grey and white lines on the neck were as pure as I observed them to be during summer in Labrador; and I have since been convinced that birds of this family undergo very little if any change of colouring after they have once acquired their perfect plumage, the Loon and the Black-throated Diver being included in this remark; while, on the contrary, all the Grebes with which I am acquainted, lose the beauty of their plumage as soon as the breeding season is over. This remarkable difference between the Divers and the Grebes would of itself be sufficient to separate the two genera, were there not also other distinctions. The Divers, moreover, live on the sea during the greater part of the year, and resort to ponds, lakes, or the borders of rivers to breed; whilst the Grebes spend most of their time on inland lakes, marshes, and streams. Immediately after the breeding season, as soon as the young are able to fly, the families of Divers make their way to the arms and inlets of the sea, rarely entering the fresh waters until the following spring.

The Red-throated Diver is at all times an extremely shy and vigilant bird, ever on the alert to elude its numerous enemies. The sight of man seems invariably to alarm it, even in the wildest countries in which it breeds. I have often observed that, while yet several hundred yards from them, they marked my approach with great watchfulness. First they would dive and make their way to the farther end of the pond, after which, with outstretched necks, they would remain silent and motionless, until I approached within about a hundred yards, when, instead of diving again, as the Loon always does, they at once, with a single spring, rose from the water, and ere I had proceeded a few yards, they were already eight or ten feet above it. If I crept towards them through the tangled mosses or shrubs, they would swim about with their heads elevated, as if determined to make their escape on the appearance of imminent danger. In many instances, my party observed this species in small flocks of five or six in the same lake, when it happened to be of considerable extent; and as this was during the height of the breeding season, we concluded that these associated birds were barren, as I ascertained that males and females, when once paired, remain together until their young are able to fly, when they part company, until the next pairing season, which is about the first of March.

This species begins to breed in Labrador in the beginning of June, and about a fortnight earlier along the Bay of Fundy. The numerous nests which our party found in the former district were all placed on small sequestered islands in the middle of lakes or large ponds of fresh water, rarely more than one mile distant from the sea-shore. These nests consisted merely of a few blades of rank grasses loosely put together, and were quite flat, without any down to warm or conceal the eggs at any period of incubation. The nest was placed within a few feet of the water, and well-beaten tracks, such as are made by otters, led to it. Whenever the birds went to this spot they walked nearly erect in an awkward manner, but when they sat in their nest they laid themselves flat on the eggs, in the manner of a Goose or Duck. In no instance did they alight on the islands, but always on the water, at some distance, when, after examining all around them for a while, they crawled silently out, and moved to the spot which contained their treasure.

Having been told that the Red-throated Diver covers its eggs with down in the manner of many ducks, I was surprised to find the assertion incorrect, and having killed several individuals during the period of incubation and immediately after it, I carefully examined them, and found all of them fully covered with down, they being, in this respect, quite different from the Eider Duck, the Velvet Duck, the Harlequin Duck, and other species of that family, nay even from the Black Guillemot, of which I shall speak in the present volume. Probably it is on account of those birds breeding much farther north, that, according to Dr Richardson, they there line their nest with down. We also found the Colymbus glacialis incubating without any in its nest. The idea generally entertained that this species never lays more than two eggs I found equally incorrect, for of five nests, two contained two eggs each, two had three each, and the fifth had three young birds. The eggs measure 3 inches in length by 1 3/4 in breadth, and are of an elongated elliptical form, nearly equally rounded at both ends; they are of a deep olive-brown colour, irregularly marked with spots of a darker dull brown. The male incubates as well as the female, and both are extremely solicitous about the safety of their young, which betake themselves to the water on the day succeeding that of their escape from the egg, and are from the first most expert swimmers and divers. Two of the young were shot by Captain Emery, having been easily approached in the absence of their parents, at which he had shot without success, they not having yet learned from experience the danger of the proximity of man. They dived beautifully, and swam with great buoyancy, inclining their necks forwards, in the manner of the old birds. This was on the 5th July 1833. On the 15th of the same month, Thomas Lincoln and my son John Woodhouse, saw several young ones, which, although quite small, were equally expert at diving. When swimming by the side of their mother they floated high, with the neck quite erect, while the old bird swam deep, with her neck inclined forward. When the little ones dived, they moved under the water like so many turtles, and at last were caught on the bottom of the pond, which was small and shallow, by placing the gun-rods upon them. So averse from moving are the old birds when sitting on their eggs, that they will not bestir themselves until in imminent danger, on which, however, they scramble to the water, dive, and, on emerging, immediately rise on wing without uttering any note. The male only is noisy on such occasions, and more especially when it returns from afar to its mate, when it evinces its satisfaction by calling aloud, as it repeatedly passes and repasses over the spot, and then alights in a pompous manner on the water.

The sexes differ materially in size, the male birds being much larger than the females, and weighing at an average fully a pound more. These birds are extremely tenacious of life. One which my son shot on the wing fell, dived instantly, and swam to a considerable distance under water, but returned to the surface, back downwards, and quite dead.

The notes of the Red-throated Diver are harsh and rather loud; they resemble the syllables cac, cac, cac, carah, carah, enounced in rapid succession. In some instances the young men of my party found that the most successful method of approaching these birds whilst on the water, was to run as fast as possible towards them and shout loudly, for on such occasions the birds dived instead of flying at once, and on emerging again, afforded them much better chances as they took to wing. At certain times, when approached while they have young, they utter a soft plaintive note, which evidently conveys to their offspring their wish that they should remain quiet in their hiding-places.

The Red-throated Diver does not acquire the full beauty of its plumage until its fourth year. The young are at first covered with thick hairy down, of a blackish colour, inclining to brown. Before they are fully able to fly, this is changed into a dull grey on the upper parts, thickly sprinkled with white dots on the extremity of each feather, the lower parts being of a sullied white. During the second year these tints are firmer, there are fewer spots above, and the texture of the lower parts is more silky. In the third, both sexes assume the fine grey of the hind-neck, with its longitudinal white stripes, and here and there a few spots of red on the lower part of the throat. The next spring their plumage is perfect.

I have never observed any of these birds on our inland lakes or rivers. In the neighbourhood of Boston, and along the Bay of Fundy, they are best known by the names of “Scape-grace” and “Cape-racer.” By the 9th of August the young birds had left the fresh-water lakes and ponds for the bays on the coast, and we were informed by the settlers, both in Newfoundland and Labrador, that, by the last days of September, none were to be found in those countries.

The dislike which this species shews to fresh-water after the breeding-season is such, that they are rarely seen in the upper part of large bays, but prefer for their winter residence the shores of sea-islands and barren rocks. Thus, at that season, they are met with about the outer islands of the Bay of Fundy, and those along our eastern coast.

While in fresh water, the Red-throated Diver feeds principally on small fish, shrimps, leeches, snails, and aquatic insects. The masses of feather-like substances often found in the stomachs of Grebes, I have never met with in this species. Its flesh is oily, tough, dark-coloured, and disagreeable to the taste, although I saw some Mountain Indians feeding upon it at Labrador with apparent pleasure.

Colymbus septentrionalis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 220.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 801.—Ch. Bonap. Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 421.

Red-throated Diver, Colymbus septentrionalis, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 476.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 519.

Adult Male in summer. Plate CCII. Fig. 1.

Bill as long as the head, slender but strong, straight, rather compressed, tapering to a point. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight, the ridge convex, as are the sides, the edges sharp and involute; nasal groove basal, short; nostrils basal, lateral, direct, oblong, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow and extending beyond the middle, the dorsal line straight and sloping upwards to the point, the ridge convex, but narrower than that of the upper mandible, the edges sharp and involute; the point of both mandibles rather sharp.

Head of moderate size, oblong, narrowed before. Neck rather long and slender. Eyes rather small. Body elongated, somewhat depressed. Wings small. Feet short, rather large, placed very far back; tibia almost entirely concealed; tarsus short, exceedingly compressed, sharp-edged before and behind, covered all over with reticulated angular scales; hind toe extremely small, connected with the second by a very small membrane; the anterior toes united by reticulated membranes, the fourth longest, the third a little shorter, the second considerably shorter than the third; all covered anteriorly with very narrow transverse scutella, the second toe with a free two-lobed membrane; claws very small, depressed, rounded.

Plumage short and dense; of the head and neck very short, blended; of the lower parts blended, short, and with a silky gloss; of the upper slightly glossed and somewhat compact; the feathers in general oblong and rounded. Wings proportionally very small and narrow, curved; primaries strong, tapering, first longest, second almost as long, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries broad, rounded. Tail extremely short, rounded, of twenty rounded feathers.

Bill bluish-black. Iris deep bright red. Feet brownish-black, the anterior edge of the tarsus, the upper surface of the toes, the claws, and part of the webs, pale livid flesh-colour. Fore part and sides of the head, throat, and sides of the neck, of a fine bluish-grey; fore part of the neck rich brownish-red; hind part of the head and hind neck longitudinally streaked with greenish-black and pure white, each feather black in the middle, with the sides white, the colours disposed in lines. The upper surface brownish-black, tinged with green, more or less mottled with white according to age, excepting the primary quills and the tail-feathers, the latter of which are merely paler at the end. The whole under surface pure white, excepting the feathers on the sides under the wings, some of those about the vent, and the lower tail-coverts, which are greyish-brown, with white margins and tips.

Length to end of tail 25 1/2 inches, to end of claws 27, extent of wings 43 1/12; bill 2 2/12; gape 3 3/8; tarsus 3, fourth toe and claw 3 3/4; wing from flexure 11 3/4, tail 3. Weight 4 lb.

Adult Female in summer. Plate CCII. Fig. 3.

The female is precisely similar to the male in form and colouring, but is considerably smaller.

Length to end of tail 25 inches, to end of claws 28 1/12; extent of wings 43. Weight 3 lb.

Male in winter immature. Plate CCII. Fig. 2.

In this state the principal differences are the following:—The fore part of the neck, instead of being of a uniform rich brownish-red, is merely mottled with that colour; all the feathers of the upper surface have each two white spots towards the end; the tail-feathers are edged and terminated with white; the colouring in general is somewhat less pure and deep, and the bill is of a much paler tint.

Young bird unfledged. Plate CCII. Fig. 4.

The young are at first covered with a dense elastic down of a greyish black colour, tinged with brown. The bill is bluish-black, its basal edges yellow; the iris reddish-brown.

THE GREAT RED-BREASTED RAIL, OR FRESHWATER MARSH-HEN.

Rallus elegans.
PLATE CCIII. Male and Young.

No doubt exists in my mind that Wilson considered this beautiful bird as merely the adult of Rallus crepitans, the manners of which he described, as studied at Great Egg Harbour in New Jersey, while he gave in his works the figure and colouring of the present species. My friend Thomas Nuttall has done the same, without, I apprehend, having seen the two birds together. Always unwilling to find faults in so ardent a student of nature as Wilson, I felt almost mortified when, after having, in the company of my worthy and learned friend, the Reverend John Bachman, carefully examined the habits of both species, which, in form and general appearance, are closely allied, I discovered the error which he had in this instance committed. Independently of the great difference as to size between the two species, there are circumstances connected with their habits which mark them as distinct. The Rallus elegans is altogether a fresh-water bird, while the R. crepitans never removes from the salt-water marshes, that are met with along our eastern Atlantic coasts, from the Jerseys to the Gulf of Mexico. Nay, the present species is found at considerable distances inland, where it breeds and spends the whole year; whereas the latter never goes farther from its maritime haunts than the borders of the salt-marshes, and this merely on certain occasions, when driven thither by the high risings of tides. The Fresh-water Marsh-hen, besides, is confined to the Southern States, a few stragglers only having been observed farther eastward than the State of Pennsylvania, and these only in fresh-water meadows.

So long ago as the year 1810, on the 29th May, I caught one of these birds, a female, at Henderson, in the State of Kentucky, when I made the following memorandum respecting it:—“It is an excessively shy bird, runs with great celerity, and when caught, cries like a common fowl.” It weighed eleven ounces avoirdupois; its total length was 20 1/2 inches, and its alar extent 22.

This species constantly resides in the fresh-water marshes and ponds in the interior of South Carolina, Georgia, the Floridas, and Louisiana, from which a few migrate, and probably breed as far to the eastward as the wet meadows of the Delaware and Schuylkil rivers, in the vicinity of which I killed one female in New Jersey, a few miles from Camden, in July 1832, in company with my friends Edward Harris and Mr Ogden, of that city. On inquiring of numerous hunters, I was told by several of them that they now and then obtained a few of these birds, which they considered as very rare, and knew only by the name of “King Rails.” On recently examining the museums of our eastern cities my friend John Bachman saw only one specimen; and Mr William Cooper of New York assured him that he had never seen any other individuals than those sent to him from Charleston. Mr Bachman was present at the killing of a specimen near Philadelphia, which was considered as a very old individual of the Rallus crepitans. In Louisiana, the Creoles know this bird by the name of Grand Râle de Prairie.

As the Fresh-water Marsh-Hen is abundant in South Carolina, I shall attempt to describe its habits as observed in that State, both by myself and by my friend John Bachman, of whose notes, delivered to me for the purpose, I shall make free use. “Although not nearly so numerous as the other species, they are not rare in that country, in certain favourable situations. Wherever there are extensive marshes by the sides of sluggish streams, where the bellowings of the alligator are heard at intervals, and the pipings of myriads of frogs fill the air, there is found the Fresh-water Marsh-hen, and there it may be seen gliding swiftly among the tangled rank grasses and aquatic weeds, or standing on the broad leaves of the yellow Cyamus and fragrant Water-lily, or forcing its way through the dense foliage of Pontederiæ; and Sagittariæ. There, during the sickly season, it remains secure from the search of man, and there, on some hillock or little island of the marsh, it builds its nest. In such places I have found so many as twenty pairs breeding within a space having a diameter of thirty yards. The nests were placed on the ground, and raised to the height of six or eight inches by means of withered weeds and grasses. The number of eggs was nine or ten. About the middle of March I found a few nests containing two or three eggs each; but, in my opinion, the greater number of these birds commence breeding about the middle of April. They appear to repair their nests from time to time, and to return to them several years in succession.”

The young, which are at first black, leave the nest as soon as they burst the shell, and follow their mother, who leads them along the borders of the streams and pools, where they find abundance of food, consisting of grass-seeds, insects, tadpoles, leeches, and small crayfish. At this early period, when running among the grass, which they do with great activity, they may easily be mistaken for meadow-mice. My friend Bachman, who had several times attempted to raise these birds, with the view of domesticating them, did not succeed, principally, he thinks, on account of the difficulty of procuring enough of their accustomed food. They all died in a few days, although the greatest attention was paid to them.

When grown they feed on a variety of substances, and it has appeared to me that they eat a much greater proportion of seeds and other vegetable matters than the Salt-water Marsh-Hens. It is true, however, that, in the gizzard of the latter we find portions of the Spartina glabra; but when that kind of food is not to be procured, which is the case during three-fourths of the year, they feed principally on “Fiddlers,” small fish, and mollusca. In the gizzard of the present species, besides the food already mentioned, I have always found a much greater quantity of the seeds of such grasses as grow in the places frequented by them. On one occasion I found the gizzard crammed with seeds of the cane (Arundo tecta); and that of another contained a large quantity of the seed of the common oat, which had evidently been picked up on a newly sown field adjoining to the marsh. In autumn I have killed this species in cornfields, in the company of John Bachman, Paul H. Lees, Esq. and others. These birds are rarely shot by common gunners, on account of the difficulty of raising them, and because they generally confine themselves to places so swampy and covered with briars, smilaxes, and rough weeds, that they are scarcely accessible. But although they are thus safe from man, they are not without numerous enemies.

My friend Bachman once killed a large Moccasin snake, on opening which he found an old bird of this species, that had evidently been swallowed but a short time before. Its feathers are frequently found lying on the banks of rice-fields, ponds, and lagoons, in places where the tracks of the minx plainly disclose the plunderer. The Barred Owl and the Great Horned Owl also occasionally succeed in capturing them in the dusk. “On one occasion,” says my friend Bachman, in a note addressed to me, “while placed on a stand for deer, I saw a wild cat creeping through a marsh that was near to me, evidently following by stealthy steps something that he was desirous of making his prey. Presently he made a sudden pounce into a bunch of grass, when I immediately heard the piercing cries of the Marsh-Hen, and shortly after came passing by me the successful murderer with the bird in his mouth.”

“In seasons of great drought, when the marshes which are their favourite haunts become dry, these birds have been known entirely to disappear from the neighbourhood, and not to return until after heavy rains, having in the mean time, no doubt, retired to the shores of the larger and deeper ponds of the swamps of the interior.”

The young of this species acquire the redness of their plumage during the first summer, and increase in size and beauty for several years, without experiencing any change in their colouring after the spring following that of their birth. The sexes are scarcely distinguishable otherwise than by the difference of size, the males being considerably larger than the females. I am not aware that this species raises more than one brood in the season, although, when its eggs have been destroyed, it may lay a second time.

The flight of this Rail resembles that of the salt-water kind, but is considerably stronger and more protracted. When suddenly flushed, they rise and go off with a chuck, their legs dangling beneath, and generally proceed in a straight line for some distance, after which they drop among the thickest grass, and run off with surprising speed. In several instances they have been known to stand before a careful pointer. They are less apt to take to the water than the Rallus crepitans, and are by no means so expert at diving. Their number does not appear to be diminished in winter by any migratory movements. Their cries, which do not differ much from those of the other species, are less frequently repeated after the breeding season.

Few birds afford better food than this species: during autumn, when, feeding chiefly on grass seeds, they are juicy and tender; in spring, however, they are less delicate. Their superiority in size over all other birds of the genus that occur in the United States, renders them valuable game to the knowing sportsman and epicure. Their eggs also are excellent as food, being much preferable to those of the common fowl.

I regret that I am obliged to conclude this account, without being able to describe the eggs, which, although well known to my friend John Bachman, have not yet come under my inspection, but which I trust I shall have an opportunity of figuring in the concluding plates of my work.

Great Red-breasted Rail, or Fresh-water Marsh Hen.

Rallus elegans.

Adult Male. Plate CCIII. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, slender, compressed, very slightly curved, deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight until towards the end, where it is slightly curved, the ridge flattish at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, convex towards the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed.

Head small, oblong, much compressed. Neck long and slender. Body slender, much compressed. Feet long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus rather long, strong, compressed, anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated; hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath; claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat, and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact and glossed on the upper parts. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended; of the forehead with the shaft enlarged, and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering but obtuse, third longest, second scarcely shorter, first and seventh about equal; secondaries weak, broad, rounded. Tail very short, much rounded, of twelve feeble rounded feathers; the upper and lower coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Lower mandible and edges of upper brownish-yellow; ridge of upper, and tips of both, deep brown. Iris bright red. Feet yellowish-brown, tinged with olive; claws of the same colour. Upper part of head and hind neck dull brown, the bristle-like shafts of the frontal feathers brownish-black; a brownish-orange line from the bill over the eye; a broader band of the same colour from the lower mandible, the intermediate space dusky; chin white. The upper parts in general are streaked with brownish-black and light olive-brown, the two sides of each feather being of the latter colour. Wing-coverts dull chestnut, most of them irregularly tipped with brownish-white. Alula and primaries deep olive-brown; secondaries and tail-feathers like the back. Sides and fore part of the neck, and greater part of the breast, bright orange-brown; sides and lower wing-coverts undulated with deep brown and greyish-white; tibial feathers pale greyish-brown, faintly barred with darker, as is the hind part of the abdomen, the fore part being uniform pale greyish-brown; lateral lower tail-coverts white, each with a blackish-brown spot near the end; those in the middle barred with black and white.

Length to end of tail 19 inches, to end of claws 26, extent of wings 25; bill 2 5/6; tarsus 2 1/2, middle toe and claw 2 10/12; wing from flexure 7, tail 2 1/2. Weight 1 lb. 9 oz.

Adult Female.

The female, which is smaller, is similar to the male, but has the tints somewhat duller.

Length to end of tail 18 inches, to end of claws 22 1/2, extent of wings 24. Weight 1 lb. 2 oz.

Young in autumn. Plate CCIII. Fig. 2.

The young in autumn and fully fledged resemble the female, but are duller in their colours.

THE CLAPPER RAIL, OR SALT-WATER MARSH-HEN.

Rallus crepitans, Gmel.
PLATE CCIV. Male and Female.

Although this species is a constant resident, and extremely abundant along the salt marshes and reedy sea islands of South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, and Louisiana, to the mouths of the Mississippi, and probably farther south, at all seasons of the year, it leaves these districts in considerable numbers in spring, and extends its movements along the Atlantic shores as far as the Middle States. They confine themselves entirely to the salt-marshes in the immediate vicinity of the Atlantic, the islands and the channels between them and the main shores, but are never seen inland or on fresh waters, unless when, during high tides, they remove to the margins of the main, where, indeed, during heavy gales and high seas, these poor birds are forced to take refuge, in order to escape the destructive fury of the tempest that, notwithstanding their utmost exertions, destroys great numbers of them. On all such occasions the birds appear greatly intimidated and stupified, and as if out of their proper element. Those individuals which leave the south for a season, reach the shores of New Jersey about the middle of April, and return to the southern States about the beginning of October, to spend the winter along with their young, after which period none are to be found in the Middle Districts. Few if any ever go beyond Long Island in the State of New York; at least I have never seen or heard of one farther east. Their migrations take place under night, and in perfect silence; but the moment they arrive at their destination, they announce their presence by a continuation of loud cacklings, meant no doubt as an expression of their joy. Having studied the habits of these interesting birds in the Jerseys, in South Carolina, and in the Floridas, on the maritime borders of all of which they breed, I shall here attempt to describe them.

In these countries, from about the beginning of March to that of April, the salt-marshes resound with the cries of the Clapper Rail, which resemble the syllables cac, cac, cac, cac, cā, cāhā, cāhā. The commencement of the cry, which is heard quite as frequently during day as by night, is extremely loud and rapid, its termination lower and protracted. At the report of a gun, when thousands of these birds instantaneously burst forth with their cries, you may imagine what an uproar they make. This bird seems to possess the power of ventriloquism, for, when several hundred yards off, its voice often seems to be issuing from the grass around you. At this period, the males are very pugnacious, and combats are rife until each has selected a female for the season. The males stand erect and cry aloud the least sound they hear, guard their mates, and continue faithfully to protect them until the young make their appearance. These come more under the care of the mother, who leads them about until they have attained a considerable size, and are able to shift for themselves. The nest is large, constructed of marsh plants, and fastened to the stems in the midst of the thickest tufts, above high-water mark. The materials of which it is formed are so well interlaced with the plants around them, as to prevent their being washed away by extraordinarily high tides, which, however, sometimes carry off and destroy the eggs, as well as many of the sitting birds, whose attachment to them is so great, that they are now and then drowned while endeavouring to keep them safe. The nest is very deep, so that the eggs seem placed in the bottom of a bowl or funnel. They are from eight to fifteen in number, measure an inch and a half in length by one and an eighth in breadth, and have a pale buff colour, sparingly sprinkled with light umber and purplish spots. The period of incubation is fourteen days. When undisturbed, this species lays only one set of eggs in the season; but as the eggs are in request as a delicious article of food, they are gathered in great numbers, and I myself have collected so many as seventy-two dozens in the course of a day. The nest is generally open at top, and then is very easily discovered, although sometimes the reeds are so arranged about them as to conceal them from the view. When the birds are sitting, they suffer you to approach within a few feet; but, as if aware of your intention, they glide away in silence to some distance, and remain crouched among the grass until you have retired. When, on returning, the poor bird finds that her treasure has been stolen, she immediately proclaims her grief aloud, and in this is joined by her faithful mate. In a few days, however, more eggs are deposited, although, I believe, never in the same nest. This species may be called gregarious, yet the nests are seldom nearer to each other than five or ten yards. They are placed in the thickest and most elevated tufts of grass, principally near the edges of the many lagoons that everywhere intersect the sea marshes, so that a man may go from one to another, finding them with ease as he proceeds along the muddy shores. In the Jerseys, it forms almost a regular occupation to collect the eggs of this bird, and there I have seen twenty or more persons gathering them by thousands during the season; in fact, it is not an uncommon occurrence for an egger to carry home a hundred dozens in a day; and when this havock is continued upwards of a month, you may imagine its extent. The abundance of the birds themselves is almost beyond belief; but if you suppose a series of salt marshes twenty miles in length, and a mile in breadth, while at every eight or ten steps one or two birds may be met with, you may calculate their probable number.

During ebb, the Clapper Rail advances towards the edge of the waters as they recede, and searches, either among the grasses, or along the deep furrows made by the ebb and flow of the tides, for its food, which consists principally of small crabs, a species of salt-water snail attached to the rushes, the fry of fishes, aquatic insects, and plants. When the tide flows, they gradually return, and at high-water they resort to the banks, where they remain concealed until the waters begin to retreat. This species is by no means exclusively nocturnal, for it moves about in search of food during the whole of the day, in this respect resembling the Gallinules. Their courage is now and then brought to the test by the sudden approach of some of their winged enemies, such as a Hawk or an Owl, especially the Marsh Hawk, which is often attacked by them while sailing low over the grass in which they are commonly concealed. On such occasions, the Rail rises a few yards in the air, strikes at the marauder with bill and claws, screaming aloud all the while, and dives again among the grass, to the astonishment of the bird of prey, which usually moves off at full speed. They are not so fortunate in their encounters with such hawks as pounce from on high on their prey, such as the Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks, against which they have no chance of defending themselves. Minxes, racoons, and wild cats destroy a great number of them during night, and many are devoured by turtles and ravenous fishes; but their worst enemy is man. My friend Bachman has shot so many as sixty in the course of four hours, and others have killed double that number in double the time.

The Salt-water Marsh Hen swims with considerable ease, though not swiftly or gracefully. While in this act, it extends its neck forward, and strikes the water with its feet, as if unwilling to move far at a time, the motion of its neck resembling that of the Gallinules. It dives well, remains a considerable time under water, and in this manner dexterously eludes its pursuers, although it certainly does not possess the power of holding fast to the bottom, as some persons have alleged. When hard pressed, it often sinks just below the surface, keeping the bill above in order to breathe, and in this position, if not detected, remains for a considerable time. If perceived and approached, it instantly dives, and uses its wings to accelerate its progress, but rises as soon as it comes to a place of safety.

Their movements on the ground, or over the partially submersed or floating beds of weeds, are extremely rapid, and they run swiftly off before a dog, the utmost exertions of which are required to force them on wing. Such an attempt by man would prove utterly futile, unless he were to come upon them unawares. When not pursued, and feeling secure, they walk in a deliberate manner, the body considerably inclined, now and then jerking the tail upwards, although by no means so frequently as Gallinules are wont to do. On the least appearance of danger, they lower the head, stretch out the neck, and move off with incomparable speed, always in perfect silence. They have thousands of paths among the rank herbage, crossing each other so often that they can very easily escape pursuit; and besides, they have a power of compressing their body to such a degree, as frequently to force a passage between two stems so close, that one could hardly believe it possible for them to squeeze themselves through. When put up, they fly slowly and generally straight before you, with their legs dangling, so that they are very easily shot by a quick sportsman, as they rarely fly far at a time on such occasions, but prefer pitching down again into the first tuft of rank grass in their way. When on their migrations, however, they pass low and swiftly over the marshes, or the water, stretched to their full extent, and with a constant beat of the wings.

The young, which are at first covered with down of a black colour, obtain their full plumage before the winter arrives, and after this undergo little change of colour, although they increase in size for a year after. In the Eastern States, this species is not held in much estimation as an article of food, perhaps in a great measure on account of the quantity of Soras met with there during early autumn, and which are certainly more delicate; but in the Southern States, especially during winter, they are considered good for the table, and a great number are killed and offered for sale in the markets. Numbers are destroyed by torch light, which so dazzles their eyes, as to enable persons fond of the sport to knock them down with poles or paddles during high tides. It is by day, however, that they are usually shot, and as this kind of sport is exceedingly pleasant, I will attempt to describe it.

About Charleston, in South Carolina, the shooting of Marsh Hens takes place from September to February, a few days in each month during the spring-tides. A light skiff or canoe is procured, the latter being much preferable, and paddled by one or two experienced persons, the sportsman standing in the bow, and his friend, if he has one with him, taking his station in the stern. At an early hour they proceed to the marshes, amid many boats containing parties on the same errand. There is no lack of shooting-grounds, for every creek of salt-water swarms with Marsh Hens. The sportsman who leads has already discharged his barrels, and on either side of his canoe a bird has fallen. As the boat moves swiftly towards them, more are raised, and although he may not be ready, the safety of the bird is in imminent jeopardy, for now from another bark double reports are heard in succession. The tide is advancing apace, the boats merely float along, and the birds, driven from place to place, seek in vain for safety. Here, on a floating mass of tangled weeds, stand a small group side by side. The gunner has marked them, and presently nearly the whole covey is prostrated. Now, onward to that great bunch of tall grass all the boats are seen to steer; shot after shot flies in rapid succession; dead and dying lie all around on the water; the terrified survivors are trying to save their lives by hurried flight; but their efforts are unavailing,—one by one they fall, to rise no more. It is a sorrowful sight, after all: see that poor thing gasping hard in the agonies of death, its legs quivering with convulsive twitches, its bright eyes fading into glazed obscurity. In a few hours, hundreds have ceased to breathe the breath of life; hundreds that erst revelled in the joys of careless existence, but which can never behold their beloved marshes again. The cruel sportsman, covered with mud and mire, drenched to the skin by the splashing of the paddles, his face and hands besmeared with powder, stands amid the wreck which he has made, exultingly surveys his slaughtered heaps, and with joyous feelings returns home with a cargo of game more than enough for a family thrice as numerous as his own. How joyful must be the congratulations of those which have escaped, without injury to themselves or their relatives! With what pleasure, perhaps, have some of them observed the gun of one of their murderers, or the powder-flask of another, fall overboard! How delighted have they been to see a canoe overturned by an awkward movement, and their enemies struggling to reach the shore, or sticking fast in the mud! Nor have the minx and racoon come off well, for notwithstanding the expertness of the former at diving, and the cunning of the latter, many have been shot, and the boatmen intend to make caps of their fur.

In the Carolinas there are some most expert marksmen, of whom I know two who probably were never surpassed. One of them I have seen shoot fifty Marsh-Hens at fifty successive shots, and the other, I am assured, has killed a hundred without missing one. I have heard or read of a French king, who, on starting a partridge, could take a pinch of snuff, then point his gun, and shoot the bird; but whether this be true or not I cannot say, although I have witnessed as remarkable a feat, for I have seen a Carolinian, furnished with two guns, shoot at and kill four Marsh-Hens as they flew off at once around him! On speaking once to a friend of the cruelty of destroying so many of these birds, he answered me as follows:—“It gives variety to life; it is good exercise, and in all cases affords a capital dinner, besides the pleasure I feel when sending a mess of Marsh-Hens to a friend such as you.”

Rallus crepitans, Gmel. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 713.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 756.

Clapper Rail, Rallus crepitans, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 112, but not the figure, which is that of the preceding species.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 201.

Adult Male. Plate CCIV. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, slender, compressed, slightly curved, rather deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line almost straight until towards the end, where it is slightly curved, the ridge slightly flattened for a short space at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, narrow and convex to the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed.

Head small, oblong, much compressed. Neck long and slender. Body slender, much compressed. Feet long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus of moderate length, strong, compressed, and anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated. Hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath. Claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact and glossed on the upper parts. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended, of the forehead with the shaft enlarged and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering, but obtuse, third longest, second scarcely shorter, first and seventh about equal; secondaries weak, broad, rounded. Tail extremely short, much rounded, of twelve feeble, rounded feathers; the upper and lower coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Lower mandible and edges of upper yellowish-brown; ridge of upper and tips of both deep brown. Iris pale yellow. Feet pale livid grey, tinged with orange about the tibio-tarsal joint; claws dusky. Upper part of the head and hind neck dull brown, the bristle-like shafts of the frontal feathers brownish-black; a pale brownish-orange line from the bill over the eye; loral space and sides of the head dull bluish-grey, the two sides of each feather being of the latter colour. Wing-coverts dull olive, tinged with grey, some of them with slight irregular whitish markings; alula and primaries olive-brown; secondaries and tail feathers like the back. Chin yellowish-white, edged on either side with pale yellowish-brown; sides and fore part of the neck bluish-grey, tinged more especially before with dull pale yellowish-brown; the fore part of the breast of the latter colour. Lower wing-coverts, sides, hind part of abdomen, and middle lower tail-coverts undulated with deep greyish-brown and greyish-white, lateral tail-coverts with the outer webs white; tibial feathers similarly barred, but paler, middle of the abdomen greyish-white.

Length to end of tail 15 inches, to end of claws 20, extent of wings 20 3/4; bill 2 5/8; tarsus 2, middle-toe and claw 2 5/12; wing from flexure 6 2/12; tail 2 5/8. Weight 11 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCIV. Fig. 2.

The Female, which is smaller than the male, is similar in colouring, but has the tints somewhat duller.

Length to end of tail 14 inches, to end of claws 17 3/4; extent of wings 19 1/4. Weight 7 3/4 oz.

THE VIRGINIAN RAIL.

Rallus virginianus, Linn.
PLATE CCV. Male, Female, and Young.

This species, which, although smaller, bears a great resemblance to the Great Red-breasted Rail or Fresh-water Marsh-Hen, is met with in most parts of the United States at different seasons. Many spend the winter within our southern limits, and I have found them at that time in Lower Louisiana, the Floridas, Georgia, and the Carolinas. In the Western country some have been known to remain until severe frost came on, and there they usually stay to a much later period than in our Middle Districts, from which they generally retire southward in the beginning of October. During spring and summer, I observed some in different places from the shores of the Wabash River in Illinois, to those of the St John’s in the British province of New Brunswick. In the latter district, they were considered extremely rare birds by the inhabitants, some of whom brought me a few as great curiosities. Farther north, I neither saw nor heard of any; but on the borders of Lakes Erie and Michigan, they breed in considerable numbers, as well as near our maritime districts.

In its habits the Rallus virginianus is intermediate between the R. crepitans and R. carolinus: it obtains its food as well in salt-water marshes, as in fresh meadows, watery savannahs, and the borders of ponds and rivers. The latter situations, however, seem to suit it best during summer; but whenever both kinds of places are combined, or near each other, there you are sure to meet with it.

The time of breeding varies according to the latitude of the place. I have found the female sitting on her eggs in the beginning of March, a few miles from New Orleans; in that of April in Kentucky, near Henderson; about a fortnight later near Vincennes, in Illinois; and from the 10th of May to the middle of June, in the Middle and Eastern States. The males usually arrive at the breeding-places a week or ten days before the females. They travel silently and by night, as I have ascertained by observing them proceed singly and in a direct course, at a height of only a few feet, over our broad rivers, or over level land, when their speed is such as is never manifested by them under ordinary circumstances. Their movements can be easily traced for fifty yards or so during nights of brilliant moonshine, when you see them passing with a constant beat of the wings, in the manner of a Green-winged Teal. As soon as they arrive at their destination, they may be heard emitting their cries about sunset, occasionally through the night, and again with increased vigour at the dawn of day, as if expressing their impatience for the arrival of their companions. The love-notes of this species have some resemblance to those of the Clapper Rail, but now and then are changed for others something like crek, crek, creek, or creek, creek, creek. Being expert ventriloquists, like their congeners, they sometimes seem to be far off, when in fact they are within a few yards of you. One morning I had the good fortune to witness their amatory gestures, which I will here try to describe, that you may in some degree participate in the amusement which the scene afforded me.

The sun had scarcely begun to send his horizontal rays over the lake, on the margin of which I stood, revolving in my mind the many enjoyments which the Author of nature has benignantly accorded to his creatures. The air was clear and serene, and the waters spread before me without a ruffle on their surface. The notes of the Rail came loudly on my ear, and on moving towards the spot whence they proceeded, I observed the bird exhibiting the full ardour of his passion. Now with open wings raised over its body, it ran around its beloved, opening and flirting its tail with singular speed. Each time it passed before her, it would pause for a moment, raise itself to the full stretch of its body and legs, and bow to her with all the grace of a well-bred suitor of our own species. The female also bowed in recognition, and at last, as the male came nearer and nearer in his circuits, yielded to his wishes, on which the pair flew off in the manner of house-pigeons, sailing and balancing their bodies on open wings until out of sight. During this exhibition, the male emitted a mellow note, resembling the syllables cuckoe, cuckoe, to which the female responded with the kind of lisping sound uttered by young birds of the species when newly hatched.

Excepting our Little Partridge, I know no bird so swift of foot as the Virginian Rail. In fact, I doubt if it would be an easy matter for an active man to outstrip one of them on plain ground; and to trust to one’s speed for raising one among the thick herbage to which they usually resort, would certainly prove fallacious. There they run to a short distance, then tack about, and again scud away in a lateral direction, so as to elude the best dog, or if likely to be overtaken, rise on wing, fly with dangling legs eight or ten yards, drop among the weeds, and run off as swiftly as before. Notwithstanding all this, I managed to secure a good number of them by means of a partridge net, setting the wings of that apparatus at very obtuse angles, and calling them by imitating the lisping notes of the female from some distance beyond the bag of the net. Now and then I found them too cunning for me, as, on discovering that the wings of the net were in their way, they would get over it in the same manner as that in which a sailor mounts the shrouds of a ship. Our Common Coot uses the same artifice, as I shall elsewhere describe.

The nest of the Virginian Rail is not easily found after incubation has commenced, for then the male, contrary to the habits of most birds, becomes comparatively silent, and the female quite mute. At such times I have once or twice almost trodden on one, which I should never have discovered, had not the poor bird fluttered off in despair, employing all the artifices used by other species on such occasions. It is placed on a small elevation formed by the accumulation of the stalks of a large bunch of grasses, in the centre of which some dry weeds are arranged to the height of two or three inches, with a very shallow cavity. The eggs are four or five, seldom more than six or seven, and resemble in colour those of the Rallus crepitans, although smaller, measuring an inch and a quarter in length, by eleven-twelfths in breadth, and being rather more rounded. The young are covered with a jet black down, and run after their mother as soon as they make their escape from the egg;—at least I suppose this to be the case, on account of my having caught some that seemed newly hatched. The mother leads them with the greatest care among the long grass of the damp meadows, or the weeds growing near the ponds, to which they resort at all times, and particularly near the margins of pools or muddy streams, into which they run and disperse on the least appearance of danger. When no water is near, the little ones squat in silence, and await the call of their parent, to which all at once answer, when they quickly collect once more around her.

This species is able to cling to, and climb along the blades of tall grasses, even under water, when in danger, and is equally able to swim gracefully to a considerable distance, as to alight on low bushes, in which situation I have shot a few of them. When amid the broad leaves of water-lilies, they walk and run on them with as much ease as the Gallinules; and I would be inclined to assign them an intermediate station between the genera Rallus and Crex, as they partake of the habits of both. When pursued, the Virginian Rail is, with great difficulty, put up, as I have already mentioned, but when it is once on wing it may be shot by a very ordinary gunner. It rises without noise, flies off with its legs dangling and its neck stretched out, but seldom proceeds farther than twenty or thirty yards at a time, unless when it has a stream to cross, or during its migrations. Like all the other species with which I am acquainted, it feeds both by day and by night. Its food consists of small slugs, snails, aquatic insects, worms, crustacea, and the seeds of those grasses which grow in salt or fresh water marshes, in either of which they reside and even breed. I have not been able to ascertain whether they lay more than once in the season; but, on account of the comparatively small number of this species, I am inclined to suppose that they seldom raise more than one brood, unless their eggs have been destroyed, whether by inundation or otherwise.

The Virginian Rail is not without enemies; and, although it manifests a good deal of courage, and at times acts towards the Marsh Hawk in the same manner as the Rallus crepitans, it seldom succeeds in its attempts, and on several occasions I have seen that bird seize them as they attempted to strike it with their bill and claws for the purpose of driving it away. The minx, the garfish, the snapping turtle, and sometimes eels, destroy them, as well as the Sora Rail.

Whilst at Charleston in South Carolina, I frequently saw little strings of these birds exposed in the market, at a very low price; and they are excellent eating during autumn and winter. Their comparative scarcity, however, prevents the gunner from searching after them with the same eagerness as he pursues the Rallus crepitans, and to shoot a dozen in the course of a day may be considered a remarkable feat. In that country, during the latter part of autumn, and in winter, they are usually met with in the salt-marshes bordering the estuaries of large rivers.

Like the two preceding species, the Virginian Rail has the power of contracting its body to enable it to pass with more ease between the stalks of strong grasses or other plants. When observed unseen, it frequently jerks the tail upwards, in the manner of Gallinules, but the moment it notices any one of its enemies, it droops the tail, lowers its head, and runs off with the quickness of thought.

The young of this species are at first of a black colour, like that of Rallus crepitans and R. elegans; but, like those of the latter, attain the rufous hue of the parent birds before the commencement of winter, although they increase in size and improve in the depth of their tints probably for several years.

Rallus virginianus, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 263.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 334.

Rallus aquaticus, var. Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 755.

Virginian Rail, Rallus virginianus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 109. pl. 62. fig. 2.

Lesser Clapper Rail, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 205.

Adult Male. Plate CCV. Fig. 1.

Bill longer than the head, slender, compressed, slightly curved, deep at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly curved, the ridge flattish at the base, and extending a little on the forehead, convex and narrow towards the end; a deep groove runs on either side parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral, linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the edges inflected, the tip narrowed, the dorsal and marginal outlines slightly arched.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long. Body slender, much compressed. Feet rather long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint; tarsus of ordinary length, compressed, anteriorly covered with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides reticulated. Hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest, fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second; toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath. Claws of moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat and marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact, slightly glossed on the back. Feathers of the head and neck short and blended; of the forehead with the shaft enlarged and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad; alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering, but obtuse, third longest, second very little shorter, first and sixth about equal; secondaries broad and rounded. Tail extremely short, much rounded, of twelve feeble rounded feathers; the upper and lower tail-coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Bill dark brown, the lower mandible and edges of upper yellowish-brown. Iris bright red. Feet yellowish-brown, tinged with olive; claws more dusky. The general colour of the upper parts is deep brownish-black, with streaks of light olive-brown; sides of the head dull bluish-grey, loral space of a deeper tint; a brownish-orange line over the eye. Alula, primary quills, and tail blackish-brown; secondary quills like the back, but edged with greenish-brown, smaller coverts dark chestnut. Throat reddish-white; fore neck and breast bright orange-brown, approaching to yellowish-red; sides, abdomen, and lower wing-coverts barred with brownish-black and white, the bands of the latter narrower; tibial feathers dusky anteriorly, light reddish behind. Lower tail-coverts each with a central brownish-black spot, the edges white, the tips pale reddish.

Length to end of tail 10 1/2 inches, to end of claws 13, extent of wings 14 1/4; bill 1 7/12; tarsus 1 5/12, middle toe and claw 1 9/12; wing from flexure 4 1/2, tail 1 10/12.

Adult Female. Plate CCV. Fig. 2.

The Female is considerably smaller than the male, but resembles it in colouring, only the dark tints of the upper parts are lighter, the chestnut of the wings paler, and the lower parts of a less bright red.

Length 9 1/4.

Young bird fledged. Plate CCV. Fig. 3.

When fully fledged the young does not differ materially in colour from the old, the tints being merely somewhat duller.

In colouring this species is so nearly allied to R. elegans, that the description of the one might pass very well for that of the other; the principal difference being that the sides of the head are grey in the former, and dusky in the latter. Of course, the difference in size and habits is sufficient to prevent their being confounded together.

THE AMERICAN SUN PERCH.

Few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel either in beauty or in delicacy and flavour the species which I have chosen as the subject of this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers. Although it occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small or large, in the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest-trees, or in the open lake margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in impure waters. Let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow, the water must be clear enough to allow the sun’s rays to fall unimpaired on the rich coat of mail that covers the body of the Sun-fish. Look at him as he poises himself under the lee of the protecting rock beneath our feet! See how steadily he maintains his position, and yet how many rapid motions of his fins are necessary to preserve it! Now another is by his side, glowing with equal beauty, and poising itself by equally easy and graceful movements. The sun is shining, and under the lee of every stone and sunk log, some of the little creatures are rising to the surface, to enjoy the bright blaze, which enhances all their beauty. The golden hues of some parts of the body blend with the green of the emerald, while the coral tints of the lower parts and the red of its sparkling eye, render our little favourite a perfect gem of the waters.

The rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones, and logs that are strewn along the bottom. Every one of these proves a place of rest, safety and observation to the little things, whose eyes are ever anxiously watching their favourite prey as it passes. There an unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labours in vain to extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings, now wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. The Sun-fish has marked it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with twenty of his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. The swiftest swallows it in a moment, and all immediately return to their lurking places, where they fancy themselves secure. But, alas, the Sun-fish is no more without enemies than the moth, or any other living creature. So has Nature determined, evidently to promote prudence and industry, without which none can reap the full advantage of life.

On the top of yon miller’s dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher. Up to the knees, and regardless of the danger of his situation, he prepares his apparatus of destruction. A keen hook attached to his grass-line is now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. With a knowing eye he marks one after another every surge of the water below. Observing the top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his hook towards it with gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats and anon sinks; his reel slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly tightened, and he feels that a fish is secured. Now whirls the reel again, thrice has the fish tried its utmost strength and speed, but, soon panting and exhausted, it is seen floating for a moment on the surface. Nothing now is required but to bring it to hand, which done, the angler baits anew, and sends forth the treacherous morsel. For an hour or more he continues the agreeable occupation, drawing from the stream a fish at every short interval. To the willow-twig fastened to his waist, a hundred “sunnies” are already attached. Suddenly the sky is overcast, and the crafty fisher, although aware that, with a different hook and bait, he might soon procure a fine eel or two, carefully wades to the shore, and homeward leisurely plods his way.

In this manner are the sun-fishes caught by the regular or “scientific” anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the overhanging trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little creatures may be playing in fancied security. Rarely does his tackle become entangled, whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws one after another from the waters.

Thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in their mode of fishing, often procure as many sunnies without allowing them to play for a moment. Look at these boys! One stands on the shore, while the others are on fallen trees that project over the stream. Their rods, as you perceive, are merely shoots of the hazel or hickory, their lines are simply twine, and their hooks none of the finest. One has a calabash filled with worms and grubs of many sorts, kept alive in damp earth, and another is supplied with a bottle containing half a gross of live “hoppers;” the third has no bait at all, but borrows from his nearest neighbour. Well, there they are, “three merry boys,” whirling their rods in the air to unrol their lines, on one of which, you observe, a cork is fastened, while on another is a bit of light wood, and on the third a grain or two of large shot, to draw it at once to a certain depth. Now their hooks are baited, and all are ready. Each casts his line as he thinks best, after he has probed the depth of the stream with his rod, to enable him to place his buoy at the proper point. Bob, bob, goes the cork; down it moves; the bit of wood disappears; the leaded line tightens; in a moment up swing the sunnies, which, getting unhooked, are projected far among the grass, where they struggle in vain, until death ends their efforts. The hooks are now baited anew, and dropped into the water. The fish is abundant, the weather propitious and delightful, for it is now October, and so greedy have the sunnies become of grasshoppers and grubs, that dozens at once dash at the same bait. The lads, believe me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely a fish remains in the hole. The happy children have caught perhaps some hundreds of delicious “pan-fish,” to feed their parents, and delight their little sisters. Surely their pleasure is fully as great as that experienced by the scientific angler.

I have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let out, for some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all the sun-fish have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if to avoid being carried away from their favourite abode. There I have seen them in such multitudes that one could catch as many as he pleased with a pinhook, fastened to any sort of line, and baited with any sort of worm or insect, or even with a piece of a newly caught fish. Yet, and I am not able to account for it, all of a sudden, without apparent cause, they would cease to take, and no allurement whatever could entice them or the other fishes in the pool to seize the hook.

During high freshets, this species of perch seldom bites at any thing, but you may procure them with a cast-net or a seine, provided you are well acquainted with the localities. On the contrary, when the waters are low and clear, every secluded hole, every eddy under the lee of a rock, every place sheltered by a raft of timber, will afford you amusement. In some parts of the Southern States, the Negroes procure these fishes late in the autumn in shallow ponds or bayous, by wading through the water with caution, and placing at every few steps a wicker apparatus, not unlike a small barrel, open at both ends. The moment the fishes find themselves confined within the lower part of this, which is pressed to the bottom of the stream, their skippings announce their capture, and the fisher secures his booty.

This species, the Labrus auritus of Linnæus, the Pomotis vulgaris of Cuvier, seldom exceeds five or six inches in length, but is rather deep in proportion. The usual size is from four to five inches, with a depth of from two to two and a half. They are not bony, and at all seasons afford delicate eating. Having observed a considerable change in their colour in different parts of the United States; and in different streams, ponds, or lakes, I was led to think that this curious effect might be produced by the difference of colour in the water. Thus, the Sun-fish caught in the deep waters of Green River, in Kentucky, exhibit a depth of olive-brown quite different from the general tint of those caught in the colourless waters of the Ohio or Schuylkill; those of the reddish-coloured waters of the Bayous of the Louisiana swamps, look as if covered with a coppery tarnish; and, lastly, those met with in streams that glide beneath cedars or other firs, have a pale and sallow complexion.

The Sun Perch, wherever found, seems to give a decided preference to sandy, gravelly, or rocky beds of streams, avoiding those of which the bottom is muddy. At the period of depositing their eggs, this preference is still more apparent. The little creature is then seen swimming rapidly over shallows, the bed of which is mostly formed of fine gravel, when after a while it is observed to poise itself and gradually sink to the bottom, where with its fin it pushes aside the sand to the extent of eight or ten inches, thus forming a circular cavity. In a few days a little ridge is thus raised around, and in the cleared area the roe is deposited. By wading carefully over the extent of the place, a person may count forty, fifty, or more of these beds, some within a few feet of each other, and some several yards apart. Instead of abandoning its spawn, as others of the family are wont to do, this little fish keeps guard over it with all the care of a sitting bird. You observe it poised over the bed, watching the objects around. Should the rotten leaf of a tree, a piece of wood, or any other substance, happen to be rolled over the border of the bed, the Sun-fish carefully removes it, holding the obnoxious matter in its mouth, and dropping it over the margin. Having many times witnessed this act of prudence and cleanliness in the little sunny, and observed that at this period it will not seize on any kind of bait, I took it into my head one fair afternoon to make a few experiments for the purpose of judging how far its instinct or reason might induce it to act when disturbed or harassed.

Provided with a fine fishing-line, and such insects as I knew were relished by this fish, I reached a sand-bar covered by about one foot of water, where I had previously seen many deposits. Approaching the nearest to the shore with great care, I baited my hook with a living ground-worm, the greater part of which was left at liberty to writhe as it pleased, and throwing the line up the stream, managed it so that at last it passed over the border of the nest, when I allowed it to remain on the bottom. The fish, I perceived, had marked me, and as the worm intruded on its premises, he swam to the farther side, there poised himself for a few moments, then approached the worm, and carried it in his mouth over the side next to me, with a care and gentleness so very remarkable as to afford me much surprise. I repeated the experiment six or seven times, and always with the same result. Then changing the bait, I employed a young grasshopper, which I floated into the egg-bed. The insect was removed, as the worm had been, and two attempts to hook the fish proved unsuccessful. I now threw my line with the hook bare, and managed as before. The sunny appeared quite alarmed. It swam to one side, then to another, in rapid succession, and seemed to entertain a fear that the removal of the suspicious object might prove extremely dangerous to it. Yet it gradually approached the hook, took it delicately up, and the next instant dropped it over the edge of the bed!

Reader, if you are one who, like me, have studied Nature with a desire to improve your mental faculties, and contemplate the wonderful phenomena that present themselves to the view at every step we take in her wide domain, you would have been struck, had you witnessed the actions of this little fish, as I was, with admiration of the Being who gave such instincts to so humble an object. I gazed in amazement on the little creature, and wondered that nature had endowed it with such feelings and powers. The irrepressible desire of acquiring knowledge prompted me to continue the experiment; but with whatever dexterity I could in those days hook a fish, all my efforts proved abortive, not with this individual only, but with many others, which I subjected to the same trials.

Satisfied that at this period the Sun-fish was more than a match for me, I rolled up my line, and with the rod gave a rap on the water as nearly over the fish as I could. The sunny darted off to a distance of several yards, poised itself steadily, and as soon as my rod was raised from the water, returned to its station. The effect of the blow on the water was now apparent, for I perceived that the fish was busily employed in smoothing the bed; but here ended my experiments on the Sun-fish.

THE WOOD DUCK.

Anas sponsa, Linn.
PLATE CCVI. Males, Females, and Nest.

I have always experienced a peculiar pleasure while endeavouring to study the habits of this most beautiful bird in its favourite places of resort. Never on such occasions have I been without numberless companions, who, although most of them were insensible of my presence, have afforded me hours of the never-failing delight resulting from the contemplation of their character. Methinks I am now seated by the trunk of a gigantic sycamore, whose bleached branches stretch up towards the heavens, as if with a desire to overlook the dense woods spread all around. A dark-watered bayou winds tortuously beneath the maples that margin its muddy shores, a deep thicket of canes spreading along its side. The mysterious silence is scarcely broken by the hum of myriads of insects. The blood-sucking musquito essays to alight on my hand, and I willingly allow him to draw his fill, that I may observe how dexterously he pierces my skin with his delicate proboscis, and pumps the red fluid into his body, which is quickly filled, when with difficulty he extends his tiny wings and flies off, never to return. Over the withered leaves many a tick is seen scrambling, as if anxious to elude the searching eye of that beautiful lizard. A squirrel spread flat against a tree, with its head directed downwards, is watching me; the warblers, too, are peeping from among the twigs. On the water, the large bull-frogs are endeavouring to obtain a peep of the sun; suddenly there emerges the head of an otter, with a fish in its jaws, and in an instant my faithful dog plunges after him, but is speedily recalled. At this moment, when my heart is filled with delight, the rustling of wings comes sweeping through the woods, and anon there shoots overhead a flock of Wood Ducks. Once, twice, three times, have they rapidly swept over the stream, and now, having failed to discover any object of alarm, they all alight on its bosom, and sound a note of invitation to others yet distant.

Scenes like these I have enjoyed a thousand times, yet regret that I have not enjoyed them oftener, and made better use of the opportunities which I have had of examining the many interesting objects that attracted my notice. And now, let me endeavour to describe the habits of the Wood Duck, in so far as I have been able to apprehend them.

This beautiful species ranges over the whole extent of the United States, and I have seen it in all parts from Louisiana to the confines of Maine, and from the vicinity of our Atlantic coasts as far inland as my travels have extended. It also occurs sparingly during the breeding-season in Nova Scotia; but farther north I did not observe it. Everywhere in this immense tract I have found it an almost constant resident, for some spend the winter even in Massachusetts, and far up the warm spring waters of brooks on the Missouri. It confines itself, however, entirely to fresh water, preferring at all times the secluded retreats of the ponds, bayous, or creeks, that occur so profusely in our woods. Well acquainted with man, they carefully avoid him, unless now and then during the breeding-season, when, if a convenient spot is found by them in which to deposit their eggs and raise their young, they will even locate themselves about the miller’s dam.

The flight of this species is remarkable for its speed, and the ease and elegance with which it is performed. The Wood Duck passes through the woods and even amongst the branches of trees, with as much facility as the Passenger Pigeon; and while removing from some secluded haunt to its breeding-grounds, at the approach of night, it shoots over the trees like a meteor, scarcely emitting any sound from its wings. In the lower parts of Louisiana and Kentucky, where they abound, these regular excursions are performed by flocks of from thirty to fifty or more individuals. In several instances I have taken perhaps undue advantage of their movements to shoot them on the wing, by placing myself between their two different spots of resort, and keeping myself concealed. In this manner I have obtained a number in the course of an hour of twilight; and I have known some keen sportsmen kill as many as thirty or forty in a single evening. This sport is best in the latter part of autumn, after the old males have joined the flocks of young led by the females. Several gunners may then obtain equal success by placing themselves at regular distances in the line of flight, when the birds having in a manner to run the gauntlet, more than half of a flock have been brought down in the course of their transit. While passing through the air on such occasions, the birds are never heard to emit a single note.

The Wood Duck breeds in the Middle States about the beginning of April, in Massachusetts a month later, and in Nova Scotia or on our northern lakes, seldom before the first days of June. In Louisiana and Kentucky, where I have had better opportunities of studying their habits in this respect, they generally pair about the 1st of March, sometimes a fortnight earlier. I never knew one of these birds to form a nest on the ground, or on the branches of a tree. They appear at all times to prefer the hollow broken portion of some large branch, the hole of our largest Woodpecker (Picus principalis), or the deserted retreat of the fox-squirrel; and I have frequently been surprised to see them go in and out of a hole of any one of these, when their bodies while on wing seemed to be nearly half as large again as the aperture within which they had deposited their eggs. Once only I found a nest (with ten eggs) in the fissure of a rock on the Kentucky River a few miles below Frankfort. Generally, however, the holes to which they betake themselves are either over deep swamps, above cane brakes, or broken branches of high sycamores, seldom more than forty or fifty feet from the water. They are much attached to their breeding-places, and for three successive years I found a pair near Henderson, in Kentucky, with eggs in the beginning of April, in the abandoned nest of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. The eggs, which are from six to fifteen, according to the age of the bird, are placed on dry plants, feathers, and a scanty portion of down, which I believe is mostly plucked from the breast of the female. They are perfectly smooth, nearly elliptical, of a light colour between buff and pale green, two inches in length by one and a half in diameter; the shell is about equal in firmness to that of the Mallard’s egg, and quite smooth.

No sooner has the female completed her set of eggs than she is abandoned by her mate, who now joins others, which form themselves into considerable flocks, and thus remain apart until the young are able to fly, when old and young of both sexes come together, and so remain until the commencement of the next breeding season. In all the nests which I have examined, I have been rather surprised to find a quantity of feathers belonging to birds of other species, even those of the domestic fowl, and particularly of the wild goose and wild turkey. On coming upon a nest with eggs when the bird was absent in search of food, I have always found the eggs covered over with feathers and down, although quite out of sight, in the depth of a woodpecker’s or squirrel’s hole. On the contrary, when the nest was placed in the broken branch of a tree, it could easily be observed from the ground, on account of the feathers, dead sticks, and withered grasses about it. If the nest is placed immediately over the water, the young, the moment they are hatched, scramble to the mouth of the hole, launch into the air with their little wings and feet spread out, and drop into their favourite element; but whenever their birth-place is at some distance from it, the mother carries them to it one by one in her bill, holding them so as not to injure their yet tender frame. On several occasions, however, when the hole was thirty, forty, or more yards from a bayou or other piece of water, I observed that the mother suffered the young to fall on the grasses and dried leaves beneath the tree, and afterwards led them directly to the nearest edge of the next pool or creek. At this early age, the young answer to their parents’ call with a mellow pee, pee, pee, often and rapidly repeated. The call of the mother at such times is low, soft, and prolonged, resembling the syllables pe-ēē, pe-ēē. The watch-note of the male, which resembles hoe-ēēk, is never uttered by the female; indeed, the male himself seldom uses it unless alarmed by some uncommon sound or the sight of a distant enemy, or when intent on calling passing birds of his own species.

The young are carefully led along the shallow and grassy shores, and taught to obtain their food, which at this early period consists of small aquatic insects, flies, musquitoes, and seeds. As they grow up, you now and then see the whole flock run as it were along the surface of the sluggish stream in chase of a dragon-fly, or to pick up a grasshopper or locust that has accidentally dropped upon it. They are excellent divers, and when frightened instantly disappear, disperse below the surface, and make for the nearest shore, on attaining which they run for the woods, squat in any convenient place, and thus elude pursuit. I used two modes of procuring them alive on such occasions. One was with a bag net, such as is employed in catching our little partridge, and which I placed half sunk in the water, driving the birds slowly, first within the wings, and finally into the bag. In this manner I have caught young and old birds of this species in considerable numbers. The other method I accidentally discovered while on a shooting excursion, accompanied by an excellent pointer dog. I observed that the sight of this faithful animal always immediately frightened the young ducks to the shores, the old one taking to her wings as soon as she conceived her brood to be safe. But the next instant Juno would dash across the bayou or pond, reach the opposite bank, and immediately follow on their track. In a few moments she would return with a duckling held between her lips, when I would take it from her unhurt.

While residing at Henderson, I thought of taming a number of Wood Ducks. In the course of a few days Juno procured for me, in the manner above described, as many as I had a mind for, and they were conveyed home in a bag. A dozen or more were placed in empty flour barrels, and covered over for some hours, with the view of taming them the sooner. Several of these barrels were placed in the yard, but whenever I went and raised their lids, I found all the little ones hooked by their sharp claws to the very edge of their prisons, and, the instant that room was granted, they would tumble over and run off in all directions. I afterwards frequently saw these young birds rise from the bottom to the brim of a cask, by moving a few inches at a time up the side, and fixing foot after foot by means of their diminutive hooked claws, which, in passing over my hand, I found to have points almost as fine as those of a needle. They fed freely on corn meal soaked in water, and as they grew, collected flies with great expertness. When they were half-grown I gave them great numbers of our common locusts yet unable to fly, which were gathered by boys from the trunks of trees and the “iron weeds,” a species of wild hemp very abundant in that portion of the country. These I would throw to them on the water of the artificial pond which I had in my garden, when the eagerness with which they would scramble and fight for them always afforded me great amusement. They grew up apace, when I pinioned them all, and they subsequently bred in my grounds in boxes which I had placed conveniently over the water, with a board or sticks leading to them, and an abundant supply of proper materials for a nest placed in them.

Few birds are more interesting to observe during the love season than Wood Ducks. The great beauty and neatness of their apparel, and the grace of their motions, always afford pleasure to the observer; and, as I have had abundant opportunities of studying their habits at that period, I am enabled to present you with a full account of their proceedings.

When March has again returned, and the Dogwood expands its pure blossoms to the sun, the Cranes soar away on their broad wings, bidding our country adieu for a season, flocks of water-fowls are pursuing their early migrations, the frogs issue from their muddy beds to pipe a few notes of languid joy, the Swallow has just arrived, and the Bluebird has returned to his box. The Wood Duck almost alone remains on the pool, as if to afford us an opportunity of studying the habits of its tribe. Here they are, a whole flock of beautiful birds, the males chasing their rivals, the females coquetting with their chosen beaux. Observe that fine drake! how gracefully he raises his head and curves his neck! As he bows before the object of his love, he raises for a moment his silken crest. His throat is swelled, and from it there issues a guttural sound, which to his beloved is as sweet as the song of the Wood Thrush to its gentle mate. The female, as if not unwilling to manifest the desire to please which she really feels, swims close by his side, now and then caresses him by touching his feathers with her bill, and shews displeasure towards any other of her sex that may come near. Soon the happy pair separate from the rest, repeat every now and then their caresses, and at length, having sealed the conjugal compact, fly off to the woods to search for a large woodpecker’s hole. Occasionally the males fight with each other, but their combats are not of long duration, nor is the field ever stained with blood, the loss of a few feathers or a sharp tug of the head being generally enough to decide the contest. Although the Wood Ducks always form their nests in the hollow of a tree, their caresses are performed exclusively on the water, to which they resort for the purpose, even when their loves have been first proved far above the ground on a branch of some tall sycamore. While the female is depositing her eggs, the male is seen to fly swiftly past the hole in which she is hidden, erecting his crest, and sending forth his love-notes, to which she never fails to respond.

On the ground the Wood Duck runs nimbly and with more grace than most other birds of its tribe. On reaching the shore of a pond or stream, it immediately shakes its tail sidewise, looks around, and proceeds in search of food. It moves on the larger branches of trees with the same apparent ease; and, while looking at thirty or forty of these birds perched on a single sycamore on the bank of a secluded bayou, I have conceived the sight as pleasing as any that I have ever enjoyed. They always reminded me of the Muscovy Duck, of which they look as if a highly finished and flattering miniature. They frequently prefer walking on an inclined log or the fallen trunk of a tree, one end of which lies in the water, while the other rests on the steep bank, to betaking themselves to flight at the sight of an approaching enemy. In this manner I have seen a whole flock walk from the water into the woods, as a steamer was approaching them in the eddies of the Ohio or Mississippi. They swim and dive well, when wounded and closely pursued, often stopping at the edge of the water with nothing above it but the bill, but at other times running to a considerable distance into the woods, or hiding in a cane-brake beside a log. In such places I have often found them, having been led to their place of concealment by my dog. When frightened, they rise by a single spring from the water, and are as apt to make directly for the woods as to follow the stream. When they discover an enemy while under the covert of shrubs or other plants on a pond, instead of taking to wing, they swim off in silence among the thickest weeds, so as generally to elude your search, by landing and running over a narrow piece of ground to another pond. In autumn, a whole covey may often be seen standing or sitting on a floating log, pluming and cleaning themselves for hours. On such occasions the knowing sportsman commits great havock among them, killing half a dozen or more at a shot.

The food of the Wood Duck, or as it is called in the Western and Southern States, the Summer Duck, consists of acorns, beech-nuts, grapes, and berries of various sorts, for which they half-dive, in the manner of the Mallard for example, or search under the trees on the shores and in the woods, turning over the fallen leaves with dexterity. In the Carolinas, they resort under night to the rice fields, as soon as the grain becomes milky. They also devour insects, snails, tadpoles, and small water lizards, swallowing at the same time a quantity of sand or gravel to aid the trituration of their food.

The best season in which to procure these birds for the table is from the beginning of September until the first frost, their flesh being then tender, juicy, and in my opinion excellent. They are easily caught in figure-of-four traps. I know a person now residing in South Carolina, who has caught several hundreds in the course of a week, bringing them home in bags across his horse’s saddle, and afterwards feeding them in coops on Indian corn. In that State, they are bought in the markets for thirty or forty cents the pair. At Boston, where I found them rather abundant during winter, they bring nearly double that price; but in Ohio or Kentucky twenty-five cents are considered an equivalent. Their feathers are as good as those of any other species; and I feel well assured that, with a few years of care, the Wood Duck might be perfectly domesticated, when it could not fail to be as valuable as it is beautiful.

Their sense of hearing is exceedingly acute, and by means of it they often save themselves from their wily enemies the minx, the polecat, and the racoon. The vile snake that creeps into their nest and destroys their eggs, is their most pernicious enemy on land. The young, when on the water, have to guard against the snapping turtle, the gar-fish, and the eel, and in the Southern Districts, against the lashing tail and the tremendous jaws of the alligator.

Those which breed in Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, move southward as soon as the frosts commence, and none are known to spend the winter so far north. I have been much surprised to find Wilson speaking of the Wood Ducks as a species of which more than five or six individuals are seldom seen together. A would-be naturalist in America, who has had better opportunities of knowing its habits than the admired author of the “American Ornithology,” repeats the same error, and, I am told, believes that all his statements are considered true. For my own part, I assure you, I have seen hundreds in a single flock, and have known fifteen to be killed by a single shot. They, however, raise only one brood in the season, unless their eggs or young have been destroyed. Should this happen, the female soon finds means of recalling her mate from the flock which he has joined.

On having recourse to a journal written by me at Henderson nearly twenty years ago, I find it stated that the attachment of a male to a female lasts only during one breeding season; and that the males provide themselves with mates in succession, the strongest taking the first choice, and the weakest being content with what remains. The young birds which I raised, never failed to make directly for the Ohio, whenever they escaped from the grounds, although they never had been there before. The only other circumstances which I have to mention are, that when entering the hole in which its nest is, the bird dives as it were into it at once, and does not alight first against the tree; that I have never witnessed an instance of its taking possession, by force, of a woodpecker’s hole; and lastly, that during winter they allow ducks of different species to associate with them.

Anas sponsa, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 207.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 871.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 385.

Summer Duck, or Wood Duck, Anas sponsa, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 97. pl. 78. fig. 3.—Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 394.

Dendronessa sponsa, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 446.

Adult Male. Plate CCVI. Fig. 1, 3.

Bill shorter than the head, deeper than broad at the base, depressed towards the end, slightly narrowed towards the middle of the unguis, the frontal angles prolonged and pointed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first sloping, then concave, along the unguis convex, the ridge broad and flat at the base, then broadly convex, the sides concave and perpendicular at the base, convex and sloping towards the end, edges soft, with about twenty-two internal lamellæ, unguis broadly elliptical, curved, rounded. Nostrils subbasal, lateral, rather small, oval, pervious. Lower mandible flattish, with the angle very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short, convex, the sides convex, the edges soft and rounded, lamellate above.

Head of moderate size, neck rather long and slender, body full and depressed, wings rather small. Feet very short, strong, placed rather far back; tarsus very short, considerably compressed, at its lower part anteriorly with two series of scutella, the rest covered with reticulated angular scales. Toes scutellate above; first very small, free, with a narrow membrane beneath, third longest, fourth a little shorter; claws small, curved, compressed, acute, the hind one smaller and more curved, that of the third toe with an inner sharp edge.

Plumage dense, soft, blended, generally glossed. Feathers of the middle of the head and upper part of hind neck, very narrow, elongated, and incurved, of the rest of the head and upper part of neck very short, of the back and lower parts in general broad and rounded, excepting on the shoulders before the wings, where they are enlarged, very broad and abrupt. Wings of moderate length, narrow, acute; primaries curved, strong, tapering, first and second longest; secondaries broad, rounded. Tail of moderate length, rather broad, much rounded, of sixteen rounded feathers.

Upper mandible bright red at the base, pale yellow on the sides, the intermediate space along the ridge, and the unguis, black, as in the lower mandible and its membrane. Iris and edges of eyelids bright red. Feet dull orange, claws black. Upper part of head, and space between the bill and eye deep green, and highly glossed; below the latter space a patch of dark purple, and a larger one of the same colour, but lighter, behind the eye; sides of the neck, its hind part under the crest, and the middle all round very dark purple. A narrow line along the base of the upper mandible and over the eye, meeting on the occiput, pure white, as are some of the feathers of the crest; another from behind the eye, meeting below the occiput, and including several of the lower elongated feathers. Throat, for more than three inches, pure white, with a process on each side a little beyond the eye, and another nearly halfway down the neck. Sides of the neck, and its lower part anteriorly reddish-purple, each feather on the latter with a triangular white tip. Middle of the neck behind, back and rump, very dark reddish-brown, the latter deeper, and tinged with green; upper tail-coverts and tail greenish-black; some of the lateral tail-coverts dull reddish-purple, a few on either side with their central filaments light red. Smaller wing-coverts, alula and primaries dull greyish-brown; most of the latter with part of their outer web greyish-white, and their inner towards the end darker and glossed with green. Secondary quills tipped with white, the outer webs green, with purple reflections, those of the inner secondaries and scapulars velvet-black, their inner webs partially glossed and changing to green. The broad feathers anterior to the wings are white, terminated with black; breast and abdomen greyish-white; feathers under the wings yellowish-grey, minutely undulated with black and white bars; lower wing-coverts and axillar feathers white, barred with greyish-brown; lower tail-coverts dull greyish-brown.

Length 20 1/2 inches, to end of claws 17 1/2, extent of wings 28; bill 1 5/12; tarsus 1 5/12, middle toe and claw 2 3/12; wing from flexure 9, tail 4 1/4.

Adult Female. Plate CCVI. Figs. 2, 4.

The female is considerably smaller, and differs greatly from the male in colouring. The feathers of the head are not elongated, but those of the upper part of the neck behind are slightly so. In other respects the plumage presents nothing very remarkable, and is similar to that of the male, only the feathers anterior to the wing, the upper hypochondrial, the inner secondaries and the rump-feathers are not enlarged, as in him. Bill blackish-brown; feet dusky, tinged with yellow. Upper part of head dusky, glossed with green, sides of the head and neck, with the hind part of the latter, light brownish-grey; throat white, but without the lateral processes of the male. Fore part of neck below and sides light yellowish-brown, mottled with dark greyish-brown, as are the sides under the wings; breast and abdomen white, the former spotted with brown. Hind neck, back, and rump, dark brown, glossed with green and purple. Wings as in the male, but the speculum less, and the secondaries externally faint reddish-purple, the velvet black of the male diminished to a few narrow markings. Tail dark brown, glossed with green; lower tail-coverts pale greyish-brown, mottled with white; lower wing-coverts as in the male.

Length 19 1/2 inches.

The tree represented in the plate is the Platanus occidentalis, which in different parts of the United States is known by the names of Buttonwood, Sycamore, Plane-tree, and Water Beech, and in Canada by that of Cotton-tree. It is one of our largest trees, and on the banks of our great western and southern rivers, often attains a diameter of eight or ten feet. Although naturally inclined to prefer the vicinity of water, it grows in almost every kind of situation, and thrives even in the streets of several of our eastern cities, such as Philadelphia and New York.

THE BOOBY GANNET.

Sula fusca, Briss.
PLATE CCVII. Male.

As the Marion was nearing the curious islets of the Tortugas, one of the birds that more particularly attracted my notice was of this species. The nearer we approached the land, the more numerous did they become, and I felt delighted with the hope that ere many days should elapse, I should have an opportunity of studying their habits. As night drew her sombre curtain over the face of nature, some of these birds alighted on the top-yard of our bark, and I observed ever afterwards that they manifested a propensity to roost at as great a height as possible above the surrounding objects, making choice of the tops of bushes, or even upright poles, and disputing with each other the privilege. The first that was shot at, was approached with considerable difficulty: it had alighted on the prong of a tree which had floated and been fastened to the bottom of a rocky shallow at some distance from shore; the water was about four feet deep and quite rough; sharks we well knew were abundant around us; but the desire to procure the bird was too strong to be overcome by such obstacles. In an instant, the pilot and myself were over the sides of the boat, and onward we proceeded with our guns cocked and ready. The yawl was well manned, and its crew awaiting the result. After we had struggled through the turbulent waters about a hundred yards, my companion raised his gun and fired; but away flew the bird with a broken leg, and we saw no more of it that day. Next day, however, at the same hour, the Booby was seen perched on the same prong, where, after resting about three hours, it made off to the open sea, doubtless in search of food.

About eight miles to the north-east of the Tortugas Lighthouse, lies a small sand-bar a few acres in extent, called Booby Island, on account of the number of birds of this species that resort to it during the breeding-season, and to it we accordingly went. We found it not more than a few feet above the surface of the water, but covered with Boobies, which lay basking in the sunshine, and pluming themselves. Our attempt to land on the island before the birds should fly off, proved futile, for before we were within fifty yards of it, they had all betaken themselves to flight, and were dispersing in various directions. We landed, however, distributed ourselves in different parts, and sent the boat to some distance, the pilot assuring us that the birds would return. And so it happened. As they approached, we laid ourselves as flat as possible in the sand, and although none of them alighted, we attained our object, for in a couple of hours we procured thirty individuals of both sexes and of different ages, finding little difficulty in bringing them down as they flew over us at a moderate height. The wounded birds that fell on the ground made immediately for the water, moving with more ease than I had expected from the accounts usually given of the awkward motions of these birds on the land. Those which reached the water swam off with great buoyancy, and with such rapidity, that it took much rowing to secure some of them, while most of those that fell directly into the sea with only a wing broken, escaped. The island was covered with their dung, the odour of which extended to a considerable distance leeward. In the evening of the same day we landed on another island, named after the Noddy, and thickly covered with bushes and low trees, to which thousands of that species of Tern resort for the purpose of breeding. There also we found a great number of Boobies. They were perched on the top-branches of the trees, on which they had nests, and here again we obtained as many as we desired. They flew close over our heads, eyeing us with dismay but in silence; indeed, not one of these birds ever emitted a cry, except at the moment when they rose from their perches or from the sand. Their note is harsh and guttural, somewhat like that of a strangled pig, and resembling the syllables hork, hork.

The nest of the Booby is placed on the top of a bush at a height of from four to ten feet. It is large and flat, formed of a few dry sticks, covered and matted with sea-weeds in great quantity. I have no doubt that they return to the same nest many years in succession, and repair it as occasion requires. In all the nests which I examined, only one egg was found, and as most of the birds were sitting, and some of the eggs had the chick nearly ready for exclusion, it is probable that these birds raise only a single young one, like the Common Gannet or Solan Goose. The egg is of a dull white colour, without spots, and about the size of that of a common hen, but more elongated, being 2 3/8 inches in length, with a diameter of 1 3/4. In some nests they were covered with filth from the parent bird, in the manner of the Florida Cormorant. The young, which had an uncouth appearance, were covered with down; the bill and feet of a deep livid blue or indigo colour. On being touched, they emitted no cry, but turned away their heads at every trial. A great quantity of fish lay beneath the trees in a state of putrefaction, proving how abundantly the young birds were supplied by their parents. Indeed, while we were on Noddy Island, there was a constant succession of birds coming in from the sea with food for their young, consisting chiefly of flying-fish and small mullets, which they disgorged in a half macerated state into the open throats of their offspring. Unfortunately the time afforded me on that coast was not sufficient to enable me to trace the progress of their growth. I observed, however, that none of the birds which were still brown had nests, and that they roosted apart, particularly on Booby Island, where also many barren ones usually resorted, to lie on the sand and bask in the sun.

The flight of the Booby is graceful and extremely protracted. They pass swiftly at a height of from twenty yards to a foot or two from the surface, often following the troughs of the waves to a considerable distance, their wings extended at right angles to the body; then, without any apparent effort, raising themselves and allowing the rolling waters to break beneath them, when they tack about, and sweep along in a contrary direction in search of food, much in the manner of the true Petrels. Now, if you follow an individual, you see that it suddenly stops short, plunges headlong into the water, pierces with its powerful beak and secures a fish, emerges again with inconceivable ease, after a short interval rises on wing, performs a few wide circlings, and makes off toward some shore. At this time its flight is different, being performed by flappings for twenty or thirty paces, with alternate sailings of more than double that space. When overloaded with food, they alight on the water, where, if undisturbed, they appear to remain for hours at a time, probably until digestion has afforded them relief.

The range to which this species confines itself along our coast, seldom extends beyond Cape Hatteras to the eastward, but they become more and more numerous the farther south we proceed. They breed abundantly on all such islands or keys as are adapted for the purpose, on the southern and western coasts of the Floridas and in the Gulf of Mexico, where I was told they breed on the sand-bars. Their power of wing seems sufficient to enable them to brave the tempest, while during a continuance of fair weather they venture to a great distance seaward, and I have seen them fully 200 miles from land.

The expansibility of the gullet of this species enables it to swallow fishes of considerable size, and on such occasions their mouth seems to spread to an unusual width. In the throats of several individuals that were shot as they were returning to their nests, I found mullets measuring seven or eight inches, that must have weighed fully half a pound. Their body beneath the skin, is covered with numerous air-cells, which probably assist them in raising or lowering themselves while on wing, and perhaps still more so when on the point of performing the rapid plunge by which they secure their prey.

Their principal enemies during the breeding-season are the American Crow and the Fish Crow, both of which destroy their eggs, and the Turkey Buzzard, which devours their young while yet unfledged. They breed during the month of May, but I have not been able to ascertain if they raise more than one brood in the season. The adult birds chase away those which are yet immature during the period of incubation. It would seem that they take several years in attaining their perfect state.

When procured alive, they feed freely, and may be kept any length of time, provided they are supplied with fish. No other food, however, could I tempt them to swallow, excepting slices of turtle, which after all they did not seem to relish. In no instance did I observe one drinking. Some authors have stated that the Frigate Pelican and the Lestris force the Booby to disgorge its food that they may obtain it; but this I have never witnessed. Like the Common Gannet, they may be secured by fastening a fish to a soft plank, and sinking it a few feet beneath the surface of the water, for if they perceive the bait, which they are likely to do if they pass over it, they plunge headlong upon it, and drive their bill into the wood.

When a Booby has alighted on the spar of a vessel, it is no easy matter to catch it, unless it is much fatigued; but if exhausted and asleep, an expert seaman may occasionally secure one. I was informed that after the breeding-season, these birds roost on trees in company with the Brown Pelican and a species of Tern, Sterna stolida, and spend their hours of daily rest on the sand-banks. Our pilot, who, as I have mentioned in my second volume, was a man of great observation, assured me that while at Vera Cruz, he saw the fishermen there go to sea, and return from considerable distances, simply by following the course of the Boobies.

The bills and legs of those which I procured in the brown plumage, and which were from one to two years of age, were dusky blue. These were undergoing moult on the 14th of May. At a more advanced age, the parts mentioned become paler, and when the bird has arrived at maturity, are as represented in my plate. I observed no external difference between the sexes in the adult birds. The stomach is a long dilatable pouch, thin, and of a yellow colour. The body is muscular, and the flesh, which is of a dark colour, tough, and having a disagreeable smell, is scarcely fit for food.

I am unable to find a good reason for those who have chosen to call these birds boobies. Authors, it is true, generally represent them as extremely stupid; but to me the word is utterly inapplicable to any bird with which I am acquainted. The Woodcock, too, is said to be stupid, as are many other birds; but my opinion, founded on pretty extensive observation, is, that it is only when birds of any species are unacquainted with man, that they manifest that kind of ignorance or innocence which he calls stupidity, and by which they suffer themselves to be imposed upon. A little acquaintance with him soon enables them to perceive enough of his character to induce them to keep aloof. This I observed in the Booby Gannet, as well as in the Noddy Tern, and in certain species of land birds of which I have already spoken. After my first visit to Booby Island in the Tortugas, the Gannets had already become very shy and wary, and before the Marion sailed away from those peaceful retreats of the wandering sea-birds, the Boobies had become so knowing, that the most expert of our party could not get within shot of them.

Pelecanus Sula, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 218.—Lath. Index Ornith. vol. ii. p. 892.

Sula fusca, Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 408.

Booby, Sula fusca, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 500.

Adult Male. Plate CCVII.

Bill longer than the head, opening beyond the eyes, straight, elongated-conical, broader above than beneath at the base, compressed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line convex at the base, then a little concave, and towards the tip slightly arched, ridge very broad, convex, separated by a seam on each side, from the sides, which are nearly perpendicular, edges sharp, inflected, serrated, tip acute. No external nostrils. Lower mandible prolonged at the base behind the upper, its angle very long, wide at the base, with a bare membrane, very narrow towards the end, dorsal line straight, ascending, sides convex, tip very acute, edges serrated towards the end.

Head rather large; neck rather long and thick; body of moderate bulk, rather elongated; wings long. Feet short, strong, placed rather far behind; tibiæ concealed; tarsus very short, rounded before, sharp behind, covered all round with reticular scales; toes all united by membranes; first very short, being about half the length of the second, third and fourth longest and nearly equal, but the claw of the third is much longer than that of the fourth; claws small, compressed, acute, curved, that of the third toe largest, depressed, curved outwards, with a thin pectinated inner edge.

Plumage generally short, close, rather compact, the feathers small and rounded; those on the head very small; loral and orbital spaces bare, as is that in the angle of the lower mandible, and a short space above the tibio-tarsal joint; wings long, acute, narrow; primaries strong, narrow, tapering rapidly to a rounded point, first and second longest and about equal, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries short, rather broad, narrowed towards the rounded point. Tail rather long, cuneate, of twelve narrow, tapering feathers.

Bill and naked parts at its base bright yellow, pale flesh-coloured towards the end; a dusky spot before the eye. Iris white. Tarsi, toes, and their connecting webs, pale yellow, claws white. Head, neck all round, upper parts in general, and lower surface of wings, dusky brown, tinged with grey; the breast, abdomen, and lower tail-coverts, pure white.

Length 31 inches, to end of claws 27, extent of wings 29 1/4; bill along the back 3 11/12, along the edge 5; tarsus 1 8/12, middle toe and claw 3 1/2. Wing from flexure 16 1/2, tail 8 1/2. Weight 3 lb. 4 1/2 oz.

The Female resembles the male, but is smaller.

The Young, when fledged, are of a greyish-brown colour all over, the breast and abdomen being merely a little lighter than the rest. The bill and claws are dusky, the tarsi and toes with their membranes dull yellow.

ESQUIMAUX CURLEW.

Numenius borealis, Lath.
PLATE CCVIII. Male and Female.

I regret that I am unable to present a complete history of the Esquimaux Curlew. It is true I might somewhat enlarge my account of its habits, were I to borrow from others, but as I have resolved to confine myself to the results of my own observation, unless in certain cases, in which I always take care to give my authorities, I hope you will be pleased with the little which I have to offer.

Previous to my voyage to Labrador, I had seen only a single bird of this species, which was kindly given me by my learned friend William Oakes, Esq. of Ipswich, Massachusetts, who had procured it in his immediate neighbourhood, where, as I have since ascertained, the Esquimaux Curlew spends a few days in early autumn, while on its way southward. During their short stay in that State, they are met with on the high sandy hills near the sea-shore, where they feed on the grasshoppers and on several kinds of berries. On this food they become fat, so as to afford excellent eating, in consequence of which they have probably acquired the name of “Dough Bird,” which they bear in that district, but which is also applied to several other birds. How this species manages to cross the whole extent of the United States without being seen after leaving Massachusetts, is to me very wonderful. On one occasion only have I ever had a glimpse of it. I was in company with my learned and generous friend John Bachman of Charleston, on one of the islands on the coast of South Carolina, whither we had gone with the view of watching the Long-billed Curlews (Numenius longirostris). It was at the dawn of a fine day, when a dense flock of the northern Curlews passed to the southward, near enough to enable us to ascertain the species, but so swiftly, that in a few minutes they were quite out of sight.

On the 29th of July 1833, during a thick fog, the Esquimaux Curlews made their first appearance in Labrador, near the harbour of Bras d’Or. They evidently came from the north, and arrived in such dense flocks as to remind me of the Passenger Pigeons. The weather was extremely cold as well as foggy. For more than a week we had been looking for them, as was every fisherman in the harbour, these birds being considered there, as indeed they are, great delicacies. The birds at length came, flock after flock, passed close round our vessel, and directed their course toward the sterile mountainous tracts in the neighbourhood; and as soon as the sun’s rays had dispersed the fogs that hung over the land, our whole party went off in search of them.

I was not long in discovering that their stay on this coast was occasioned solely by the density of the mists and the heavy gales that already gave intimation of the approaching close of the summer; for whenever the weather cleared up a little, thousands of them set off and steered in a straight course across the broad Gulf of St Lawrence. On the contrary, when the wind was high, and the fogs thick, they flew swiftly and low over the rocky surface of the country, as if bewildered. Wherever there was a spot that seemed likely to afford a supply of food, there the Curlews abounded, and were easily approached. By the 12th of August, however, they had all left the country.

In Labrador they feed on what the fishermen call the Curlew berry, a small black fruit growing on a creeping shrub, not more than an inch or two in height, and so abundant, that patches of several acres covered the rocks here and there. When the birds were in search of these feeding-grounds, they flew in close masses, sometimes high, at other times low, but always with remarkable speed, and performing beautiful evolutions in the air. The appearance of man did not seem to intimidate them, for they would alight so near us, or pass over our heads at so short a distance, that we easily shot them. While on wing, they emitted an oft repeated soft whistling note, but the moment they alighted they became silent. They ran swiftly along, all in the same direction, picking up the berries in their way, and when pursued, would immediately squat in the manner of a snipe or partridge, sometimes even laying their neck and head quite flat on the ground, until you came within a short distance, when, at the single whistle of any one of the flock, they would all immediately scream and fly off, rambling about for a while, and not unfrequently realighting on the same spot. Now and then, however, their excursion would last a long time, they would rise high in the air, make towards the sea, and, as if aware of the unfavourable state of the weather for pursuing their southward course, would return.

They continued to arrive at Bras d’Or for several days, in flocks which seemed to me to increase in number. I saw no Hawks in their rear, and I was the more astonished at this, that at that period the Pigeon Hawk and Petit Caporal Hawk were pretty abundant.

They rose from the ground by a single quick spring, in the manner of a snipe, when they would cut backward, forward, and all around, in a very curious manner, and would now and then pause in the air, like a Hawk, remaining stationary for a few moments with their head meeting the wind, when immediately afterwards they would all suddenly alight. In calm and fair weather, they were more shy than at other times. While on their passage across the Gulf, they flew high in close bodies, and with their usual speed, by no means in regular lines, nor in any order, but much in the manner of the Migratory Pigeon, now and then presenting a broad front, and again coming together so as to form a close body.

Those which we procured were extremely fat and juicy, especially the young birds, of which we ate a good many. Mr Jones, an old settler of Bras d’Or, and his son, shoot a great number every season, which they salt for winter food. They informed us that these birds pass over the same tract about the middle of May, on their way northward, and that they never found them breeding in their neighbourhood. Little difference could be observed at that season between the males and females, or between the old and young birds.

Numenius borealis, Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 712.—Ch. Bonaparte, Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 26. fig. 3.—Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 314.—Richardson and Swainson Fauna Boreali-Americana, part ii. p. 378.

Esquimaux Curlew, Numenius borealis, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 101.

Plate CCVIII. Adult Male. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, very slender, subcylindrical, compressed, slightly arched. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly arched, the sides, excepting at the base, nearly perpendicular, and marked with a narrow groove extending more than two-thirds of its length, edges rather obtuse. Nostrils basal, lateral, longitudinal, elliptical. Lower mandible with the dorsal line arched, the angle extremely narrow and extended to near the end, the sides convex, the edges rather obtuse, the tips obtuse, that of the upper mandible longer.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long, slender. Body slender. Feet of moderate length, slender. Toes small; first very small, second and fourth about equal, third considerably longer. Claws small, compressed, blunt, that of middle toe much longer, curved outwards, with a sharp dilated inner edge.

Plumage soft and blended, on the fore part of the head very short. Wings rather long, very acute, narrow, the first quill longest, the second a little shorter, the rest regularly and rapidly graduated; secondaries short, incurved, rounded, excepting some of the inner, which are greatly elongated and tapering. Tail short, nearly even, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill brownish-black, the lower mandible flesh-coloured at the base. Iris dark brown. Feet greyish-blue, claws black. The upper part of the head is brownish-black, streaked with pale yellowish-brown, and having an indistinct central line of the latter. The back is also brownish-black, marked with numerous spots of light brownish-yellow, there being several along the margin of each feather. Wing-coverts and secondaries of a lighter brown, similarly spotted; alula, primary coverts and quills unspotted, the shafts of most of the latter pale brown, but of the outer white. Tail pale greyish-brown, with light deep brown bars, and tipped with brownish-white. Sides of the head, and the neck all round, pale yellowish-brown, striped with dark brown; breast and sides of the same tint, with longitudinal and transverse dark markings. Lower wing-coverts and lower tail-coverts similarly barred; axillar feathers regularly banded, and of a deeper tint. Abdomen without markings. Throat and a line over the eye nearly white.

Length to end of tail 14 1/2, to end of wings 14 7/8, to end of claws 16 3/4; wing from flexure 8 1/2, tail 3 1/4; extent of wings 27 3/8; bill along the back 2 1/4, along the edge 2 1/2; tarsus 1 8/12, middle toe 11/12, its claw 5 1/2/12. Weight 1/2 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female resembles the male, and is scarcely inferior in size.

WILSON’S PLOVER.

Charadrius Wilsonius, Ord.
PLATE CCIX. Male and Female.

Reader, imagine yourself standing motionless on some of the sandy shores between South Carolina and the extremity of Florida, waiting with impatience for the return of day;—or, if you dislike the idea, imagine me there. The air is warm and pleasant, the smooth sea reflects the feeble glimmerings of the fading stars, the sound of living thing is not heard; nature, universal nature, is at rest. And here am I, inhaling the grateful sea-air, with eyes intent on the dim distance. See the bright blaze that issues from the verge of the waters! and now the sun himself appears, and all is life, or seems to be; for as the influence of the Divinity is to the universe, so is that of the sun to the things of this world. Far away beyond that treacherous reef, floats a gallant bark, that seems slumbering on the bosom of the waters like a silvery sea-bird. Gentle breezes now creep over the ocean, and ruffle its surface into tiny wavelets. The ship glides along, the fishes leap with joy, and on my ear comes the well known note of the bird which bears the name of one whom every ornithologist must honour. Long have I known the bird myself, and yet desirous of knowing it better, I have returned to this beach many successive seasons for the purpose of observing its ways, examining its nest, marking the care with which it rears its young, and the attachment which it manifests to its mate. Well, let the scene vanish! and let me present you with the results of my observations.

Wilson’s Plover! I love the name because of the respect I bear towards him to whose memory the bird has been dedicated. How pleasing, I have thought, it would have been to me, to have met with him on such an excursion, and, after having procured a few of his own birds, to have listened to him as he would speak of a thousand interesting facts connected with his favourite science and my ever-pleasing pursuits. How delightful to have talked, among other things, of the probable use of the double claws which I have found attached to the toes of the species which goes by his name, and which are also seen in other groups of shore and sea birds. Perhaps he might have informed me why the claws of some birds are pectinated on one toe and not on the rest, and why that toe itself is so cut. But alas! Wilson was with me only a few times, and then nothing worthy of his attention was procured.

This interesting species, which always looks to me as if in form a miniature copy of the Black-bellied Plover, is a constant resident in the southern districts of the Union. There it breeds, and there too it spends the winter. Many individuals, no doubt, move farther south, but great numbers are at all times to be met with from Carolina to the mouths of the Mississippi, and in all these places I have found it the whole year round. Some go as far to the eastward as Long Island in the State of New York, where, however, they are considered as rarities; but beyond this, none, I believe, are seen along our eastern shores. This circumstance has seemed the more surprising to me, that its relative the Piping Plover proceeds as far as the Magdeleine Islands; and that the latter bird should also breed in the Carolinas a month earlier than Wilson’s Plover ever does, seems to me not less astonishing.

Wilson’s Plover begins to lay its eggs about the time when the young of the Piping Plover are running after their parents. Twenty or thirty yards from the uppermost beat of the waves, on the first of June, or some day not distant from it, the female may be seen scratching a small cavity in the shelly sand, in which she deposits four eggs, placing them carefully with the broad end outermost. The eggs, which measure an inch and a quarter by seven and a half eighths, are of a dull cream colour, sparingly sprinkled all over with dots of pale purple and spots of dark brown. The eggs vary somewhat in size, and in their ground colour, but less than those of many other species of the genus. The young follow their parents as soon as they are hatched, and the latter employ every artifice common to birds of this family, to entice their enemies to follow them and thus save their offspring.