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:

• Lorimier’s Fork, Lorimie’s Fork and Larimie’s Fork may be the same place.
• Grand Mannan and Grand Manan may be the same place.
• J. R. Poinsett and Joel Poinsett may be the same person.
• Mr Abbot and Mr Abbott may be the same person.

The following are possible errors, but retained:

• Arkansa River should possibly be Arkansas.
• gambling should possibly be gambolling.

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

Download Volume 2 at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47191.

Download Volume 3 at https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69403.

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

BIRDS OF AMERICA,

TOGETHER WITH AN ACCOUNT OF THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS OF MANY OF THE SPECIES, ILLUSTRATED BY ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.

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, THE QUEBEC LITERARY AND HISTORICAL SOCIETY, THE ORNITHOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON, &C. &C.

VOL. IV.

EDINBURGH:

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH:

LONGMAN, ORME, BROWN, GREEN & LONGMANS, LONDON; R. HAVELL, ENGRAVER, 77. OXFORD STREET, LONDON; ALEXANDER HILL, EDINBURGH; AND GEORGE SMITH, LIVERPOOL.

MDCCCXXXVIII.

PRINTED BY NEILL AND CO., OLD FISHMARKET, EDINBURGH.

INTRODUCTION.

Three years have nearly elapsed since I had the pleasure of presenting you with the third volume of my “Ornithological Biography,” and about twelve since the first fasciculus of my “Illustrations of the Birds of America” was submitted to your inspection. This work, comprising four hundred and thirty-five plates, and one thousand and sixty-five figures, was finished on the 20th of June 1838, without the continuity of its execution having been broken for a single day, and the numbers having been delivered with exemplary regularity; for all which I am indebted to my friend and Engraver, Mr Robert Havell. Once more surrounded by all the members of my dear family, enjoying the countenance of numerous friends who have never deserted me, and possessing a competent share of all that can render life agreeable, I look up with gratitude to the Supreme Being, and feel that I am happy.

The adventures and vicissitudes which have fallen to my lot, instead of tending to diminish the fervid enthusiasm of my nature, have imparted a toughness to my bodily constitution, naturally strong, and to my mind, naturally buoyant, an elasticity, such as to assure me that, though somewhat old, and considerably denuded in the frontal region, I could yet perform on foot a journey of any length, were I sure that I should thereby add materially to our knowledge of the ever-interesting creatures which have for so long a time occupied my thoughts by day, and filled my dreams with pleasant images. Nay, Reader, had I a new lease of life presented to me, I should chuse for it the very occupations in which I have been engaged.

And, Reader, the life which I have led has been in some respects a singular one. Think of a person intent on such pursuits as mine have been, aroused at early dawn from his rude couch on the alder-fringed brook of some northern valley, or in the midst of some yet unexplored forest of the west, or perhaps on the soft and warm sands of the Florida shores, and listening to the pleasing melodies of songsters innumerable, saluting the magnificent orb from whose radiant influence the creatures of many worlds receive life and light. Refreshed and reinvigorated by healthful rest, he starts upon his feet, gathers up his store of curiosities, buckles on his knapsack, shoulders his trusty firelock, says a kind word to his faithful dog, and recommences his pursuit of zoological knowledge. Now the morning is spent, and a squirrel or a trout afford him a repast. Should the day be warm, he reposes for a time under the shade of some tree. The woodland choristers again burst forth into song, and he starts anew, to wander wherever his fancy may direct him, or the objects of his search may lead him in pursuit. When evening approaches and the birds are seen betaking themselves to their retreats, he looks for some place of safety, erects his shed of green boughs, kindles his fire, prepares his meal, and as the Widgeon or Blue-winged Teal, or perhaps the breast of a Turkey, or a steak of venison, sends its delicious perfumes abroad, he enters into his parchment-bound journal the remarkable incidents and facts that have occurred in the course of the day. Darkness has now drawn her sable curtain over the scene, his repast is finished, and kneeling on the earth he raises his soul to Heaven, grateful for the protection that has been granted to him and the sense of the Divine presence in this solitary place. Then wishing a cordial good night to all the dear friends at home, the American Woodsman wraps himself up in his blanket, and closing his eyes, soon falls into that comfortable sleep which never fails him on such occasions.

Since I last parted from you, my exertions have been unremitted, and my rambles extended as far as circumstances allowed, for I have been ever anxious to render the fourth and concluding volume of my Illustrations as worthy of your approbation as I could. Whether I have added to our knowledge of the birds which constantly reside within the limits of the United States and their Territories, or periodically visit us from the South, it is yours to say. That I have left undone much that might have been accomplished by an abler student of Nature, is doubtless quite true; but that any would have prosecuted the study of our numerous feathered denizens with more good will or more sincere desire to obtain facts and rectify errors, would, I think, be difficult to prove. If my “Birds of America,” and “Ornithological Biography,” are looked upon by you as having contributed in some degree to the improvement of our knowledge of these my favourite objects of observation, and as likely to stimulate other and perhaps more successful students to perfect it. I shall rest satisfied with my labours.

Having hitherto given you some account of the occurrences that have taken place during the time intervening between the appearance of one volume and that of another, I again resume the subject, hoping that what I have now to say may prove not less interesting to a friend like you. When I last left Edinburgh, I proceeded to London, full of the desire to revisit my native land before concluding my work. It was my wish to cross the Continent of America, gaze on the majestic wilds of the Rocky Mountains, wander along the green valleys of the Oregon, and search the shores of the Pacific Ocean and a portion of North California; but circumstances denied me the pleasure anticipated. However, here we are on the way to the metropolis of England; we have already passed through Newcastle, York, Leeds, and Manchester, and are just about to alight in the Main Street of Sheffield. The gentleman who meets me at the coach door, is John Heppenstall, Esq., well known to me by correspondence, but not personally until now. Arrived here according to appointment, we shake hands, and in a few minutes are beneath his most hospitable roof, and in the midst of his family and friends. The expectations which we had formed, so far from being disappointed, were more than gratified, for this sincere and honourable man is distinguished, not less by liberality of sentiment than by a generosity commensurate with the goodness of his heart. In these respects every member of his family is a counterpart of himself; and, such being our hosts, you may judge how agreeable to us was our stay in Sheffield. It was while enjoying the hospitality of this excellent friend, that we became acquainted with Ebenezer Elliot, Esq. and subsequently with Jonathan Brammell, Esq. from whom we have since received many acts of kindness. Stopping afterwards at Derby, we saw our relations there, and on arriving in London were kindly welcomed by my brother-in-law, Alexander Gordon, Esq., and soon established ourselves in a house in Wimpole Street.

I now again enjoyed the society of our numerous friends, and had the pleasure of seeing my work proceed apace. One day Mr Robert Havell informed me, that a gentleman, a Fellow of the Royal Society, residing not far from us, in the same street, had subscribed for the Birds of America. The gentleman called to see me; my wife and myself, were introduced to his lady, and the several members of his amiable family, and our intimacy and friendship have ever since increased. This excellent friend of mine is a surgeon of the highest merit. Long before I left England for America, he took charge of my wife’s precarious health; and when we parted at the coach that took my son, John Woodhouse, and myself, to Portsmouth, he promised to watch over her. When I again reached my house in Wimpole Street, after an absence of a year, he was the first friend to greet me with a cordial welcome. Were I to mention the many occasions on which he has aided me by his advice and superior knowledge of the world, you would be pleased to find so much disinterestedness in human nature. His professional aid too, valuable as it has proved to us, and productive of much inconvenience to him, has been rendered without reward, for I could never succeed in inducing him to consider us his patients, although for upwards of two years he never passed a day without seeing my wife. But why should I say more? This fine specimen of human nature, eminent for every virtue, this kind and generous friend, is Benjamin Phillips, Esq.

Having been long anxious to introduce into America several species of European birds, which I thought might thrive with us, I purchased about an hundred individuals of that delightful songster, the Sky Lark, fifty Starlings, and several Jays and Wood Pigeons, intending to set them loose in the Western States. Putting them in ample cages, accompanied with a store of food for the voyage, I had them sent on board in the London Docks; but on our reaching Portsmouth by land, we heard that the weather had been very bad in the Channel, and that our birds had suffered severely. The news, to my vexation, proved true; many of the birds had died; and, although our passage to New York was pleasant as well as speedy, very few were landed, so that my hopes were entirely disappointed.

On the 1st of August 1836, we went on board the fine American Packet Ship, the Gladiator, commanded by Thomas Britton, Esq. and proceeded on our voyage, which proved agreeable. On arriving at New York, we soon reached the house of my good friend and brother-in-law Nicholas Berthoud, Esq. Leaving my son there, I proceeded almost immediately to Boston, where, under the roof of my generous friend Dr George C. Shattuck, I enjoyed life for a while. My friend Dr George Parkman was absent, and I missed him much. Here, through the kindness of Dr Shattuck, I procured two subscribers, and formed acquaintance with Thomas M. Brewer, Esq., from whom I have received many valuable services, which you will find mentioned in the proper places. Pushing on to Salem I formed some acquaintances there, and procured several subscribers; then returned to Boston, and as fortune would have it, heard of the arrival of Thomas Nuttall, Esq., the well-known zoologist, botanist, and mineralogist, who had performed a journey over the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Ocean, accompanied by our mutual friend John Kirk Townsend, Esq., M. D. Mr Nuttall generously gave me of his ornithological treasures all that was new, and inscribed in my journal the observations which he had made respecting the habits and distribution of all the new and rare species which were unknown to me. All this information you will find in the different articles to which it refers, and you will allow that while it proves his zeal for the furtherance of science, it manifests the generosity of his noble nature.

Dr Townsend’s collection was at Philadelphia; my anxiety to examine his specimens was extreme; and I therefore, bidding farewell to my Boston friends, hurried off to New York, where, in a week, I added eighteen names to my list of subscribers, in obtaining which I was materially aided by my brother-in-law. Once more my son and I reached Philadelphia, where at once we placed ourselves under the roof of my ever staunch and true friend Richard Harlan, Esq., M. D., with whom we remained several weeks. Soon after my arrival, I called on my learned friend Dr Charles Pickering, formed the desired acquaintance of an enthusiastic young ornithologist, James Trudeau, Esq., and met my firm friend Edward Harris, Esq. Having obtained access to the collection sent by Dr Townsend, I turned over and over the new and rare species; but he was absent at Fort Vancouver, on the shores of the Columbia River; Thomas Nuttall had not yet come from Boston, and loud murmurs were uttered by the soi-disant friends of science, who objected to my seeing, much less portraying and describing those valuable relics of birds, many of which had not yet been introduced into our Fauna. The traveller’s appetite is much increased by the knowledge of the distance which he has to tramp before he can obtain a meal; and with me the desire of obtaining the specimens in question increased in proportion to the difficulties that presented themselves. Having ascertained the names of the persons best able or most willing to assist me on this occasion, and aided by Thomas Nuttall, who had now arrived, Drs Pickering, Harlan, S. G. Morton, Secretary to the Academy of Natural Sciences, M’Murtrie, Trudeau, and above all my friend Edward Harris, who offered to pay for them with the view of presenting them to me, I at length succeeded. It was agreed that I might purchase duplicates, provided the specific names agreed upon by Mr Nuttall and myself were published in Dr Townsend’s name. This latter part of the affair was perfectly congenial to my feelings, as I have seldom cared much about priority in the naming of species. I therefore paid for the skins which I received, and have now published such as proved to be new, according to my promise. But, let me assure you, Reader, that seldom, if ever in my life, have I felt more disgusted with the conduct of any opponents of mine, than I was with the unfriendly boasters of their zeal for the advancement of ornithological science, who at the time existed in the fair city of Philadelphia.

From Philadelphia I bent my course toward Baltimore, where I spent a few days. Before leaving the former city, my good friend Edward Harris had promised to join us at Charleston, for the purpose of accompanying us along the western coast of the Floridas, and the Gulf of Mexico, at least as far as Galveston Island in Texas. On reaching the city of Washington, I presented myself to the Honourable Levi Woodbury, Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, a gentleman of learning, long friendly towards me, who at once assured me that he would, if possible, grant me one of our Revenue Cutters, for my intended voyage. The war, which was at that time raging between the Seminole Indians and the citizens of Florida tended strongly to frustrate my wishes, as every disposable vessel of the class under the Secretary of the Treasury was engaged on the coast of the Peninsula. I called on President Andrew Jackson, from whom, since 1819, I have received peculiar facilities, and who assured me of his wish to grant my request. My son and I dined with him on that day sans façon, both of us in the undress best suited to practical students of nature. And here I may inform you, that I have seldom eaten of a better Wild Turkey than the one which graced his table, and which had been procured not many miles distant from our centre of political intercourse. I also had the pleasure of seeing my excellent friend, Colonel J. J. Abert, of the U. S. Topographical Department, the Honourable J. R. Poinsett, and the Secretary of the Navy, to whom I then recommended several American naturalists as worthy of being engaged on any naval expedition of discovery.

We now proceeded towards Charleston in South Carolina, travelling the latter part of the way on one of the most extraordinary rail-roads in the world, and reached in safety the house of my worthy friend the Reverend John Bachman, D.D. It was indeed a happy meeting! Here I opened the box containing Dr Townsend’s precious series of birds, and while waiting the arrival of Mr Harris, drew upwards of seventy figures of the species which I had procured at Philadelphia, assisted in the finishing of the plants, branches of trees, and flowers, which accompany these figures, by my friend’s sister-in-law Miss M. Martin, to whom I now again offer my most sincere thanks. While here I received the agreeable intelligence of my having been elected a Member of the Ornithological Society of London.

Edward Harris joined me, but the Revenue Cutter had not made its appearance; and time becoming precious, on account of the approach of spring, we bid adieu to all at Charleston, and pushed for New Orleans, where, I was informed by Government letters, I should meet with a vessel. On reaching Augusta in Georgia, I called on Dr Wray, who promised to forward to me a number of plants for my noble friend Lord Ravensworth, who has received them in good order. After several days of severe travelling, we arrived at Montgomery in Alabama, and meeting there with a steam-boat bound to Mobile, secured our passage. Next day we arrived there, and spent two days in examining the neighbourhood; after which we proceeded to Pensacola, where I felt proud to find a harbour commodious enough to contain a fleet sufficient to repel the attacks of any naval force brought against the United States. Here I made the long-sought-for acquaintance of Mr Innerarity, to whom I had letters from my friend Alexander Gordon, Esq., and who introduced us to all who were likely to forward our views. The next morning he accompanied us on board the United States’ frigate, the Constellation, and presented us to Commodore Dallas, to whom I had letters of introduction from our government. This polite and gallant officer received us all with great kindness, and, after reading my letters, assured me that as soon as a cutter could be spared, it should be at my service, and that the information would be transmitted to me through the medium of the Collector of Customs at Mobile or New Orleans. After searching the country around Pensacola, we returned to Mobile, and proceeded to New Orleans in a steamer, by way of the great lakes.

Having previously received the most pressing invitation from my friend James Grimshaw, Esq., my son and I went at once to his house, where we were treated with all the kindness to be expected from a true English gentleman. I had the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with Ex-Governor Roman, and several members of his most amiable family, among whom was Mr Zaringue. From that gentleman I received much valuable information respecting some of our birds, as well as from my long-known acquaintance, the great sportsman Mr Louis Adam. Here also I for the last time met with good M. Le Sueur, well known to the world of science as a zoologist of great merit, and with whom I first became acquainted at Philadelphia in 1824. He, alas! is now no more.

Having called on Mr Breedlove, Collector of Customs for New Orleans, and presented to him my letters from the Honourable Levi Woodbury, he at once assured me that the Revenue Cutter the Campbell, would be at my disposal in a very few days. But the service, or other circumstances, did not allow the arrival of that vessel at New Orleans until late in March, and at a time when, apprehensive that our intended voyage might be frustrated, we were all “crest-fallen.” Time, however, passed on, and one morning I was gladdened by being called upon by the Commander of the Campbell, and still more upon recognising in him the Lieutenant and Pilot of the Marion, or Lady of the Green Mantle, so frequently mentioned in the former volumes of these Ornithological Biographs. I knew that Napoleon Coste was a true sea-fowl. He assured me of the excellence of his vessel, and gay and happy were we all when we removed on board the tight little sea-boat, of scarcely more than sixty tons burden. Proceeding down the Mississippi, we sailed through its south-west Pass, where we were joined by a vessel of eight tons, as a tender for our excursions along the shores. It was commanded by Captain William Taylor, now, I believe, a Commodore in the Texian service, a gentleman who has seen much of the world, an excellent companion, and a good hunter and fisher.

Of our various excursions, whether by water or by land, between the mouths of the Mississippi and the point at which we returned, a detailed account would prove tedious and fatiguing; for what interest can there be in the relation of our wading through mud for whole days, exposed to the scorching heat, and continually annoyed by myriads of insects? We reached the Bay of Galveston on the 24th of April 1837, and ransacked not only the island of that name, but all those in that celebrated inlet of the Mexican Gulf, which we thought worthy of our attention. It was a curious circumstance to me, that, being on board of the first American armed vessel in the United States’ Service that had entered the Bay, the fort of Galveston returned the salute of twenty-six fires from the great gun of the Campbell; and almost equally so when I received a visit from the Secretary of the Navy of the infant Republic of Texas, with a written invitation to proceed to the seat of Government, the newly founded city of Houston, distant from our anchorage about eighty miles. Toward this place the Campbell proceeded about twenty miles, when, meeting with a bar, on which there is not more than about four feet of water at full tide, she again came to anchor. At this place, which is called Red-Fish Bar, on the 9th of May, my friend Edward Harris, Captain Coste, and five sailors took the gig, while the Crusader, our tender, took the Secretary of the Texian Navy, M. Fisher, Esq., a Mr Ward, my son, and myself. We crossed a large but shallow bay with a fair wind, and proceeding rapidly, passed the lately founded town of New Washington, and soon afterwards several plantations, the sight of all which afforded us much pleasure, as contrasted with the low salt-marshes and flat lands along the shores of the Mexican Bay, among which we had so long wandered. About noon we entered Buffalo Bayou, near the mouth of the San Jacinto River, almost opposite the celebrated battle-ground. Ducks of various species, Ibises, Wild Turkeys, and many other birds, were seen in great numbers, and we proceeded smoothly over the then turbid waters of the Bayou, until we reached a comfortable house, where we spent the night, after previously examining several miles of the country around.

The Secretary of the Texian Navy being anxious to reach the seat of his government, we started in the gig of the Campbell, although the rain, which had commenced in the night, was falling in torrents, and the waters of the Bayou, which the day before were still, now rushed at a rapid rate toward the Gulf. About two o’clock in the afternoon, we reached Houston, completely drenched, and were soon afterwards introduced to the President General Houston, who received us kindly, and offered us horses and men to assist us in our researches. The town was crowded with hundreds of Indians, only a few of whom were sober. Although here and there groups of great interest to the painter might be seen, their howlings and gesticulations were by no means pleasing. The beautiful level plain on the margin of which Houston is situated, was covered with water ankle deep. Having seen all that was thought interesting, and offered the President as well as all the officers of his Staff my best thanks, we returned to our yawl, and floating on the accumulated waters, flew as it were down the stream. Several days were afterwards spent in rambling as much as possible over the country, and among other places, we visited the battle-ground of San Jacinto, where we saw scattered the remains of numerous individuals destroyed in that bloody fray.

On our way towards “Red-Fish Bar,” we stopped two days at the hospitable mansion of Colonel James Morgan, who received us in the most friendly manner. This spot, possessing a fine extent of woodland, surrounded by vast prairies, ornamented with numerous detached groves, reminded us of some of the beautiful parks of England. There, among other rarities, we procured a fine specimen of the climbing Rattle-snake with recurved fangs, which, along with several others of the same kind, is now in my possession.

On the 18th of May, we bade adieu to the Texas, amid the salutes of the several armed Texian vessels at Galveston, and were soon on the broad waters of the Gulf of Mexico. We had as passenger Mr Crawford, the British Consul at Tampico; and after a pleasant voyage, anchored on the 24th within the south-west Pass of the Mississippi. After visiting Captain Taylor and his family at the Balize, we were towed by a steamer to New Orleans, where we arrived on the 27th. Here I had the gratification of meeting with my youngest brother-in-law, William G. Bakewell, Esq. of Louisville, Kentucky, as well as with his amiable wife, neither of whom I had seen for several years.

The commercial revolution which had taken place during our absence, prompted us to proceed at once to the eastward, and bidding farewell to our friends, I and my son set out for Charleston by way of Mobile, whence we crossed the country in a cart with the United States’ mail-bags, whereon, in lieu of downy beds and pillows, our bones rested in cramped positions during the night, whilst by day we had ample opportunities of walking over miserable roads, through an almost uncultivated country, and with very indifferent fare. On reaching Montgomery, however, we met with a good coach, and moved more rapidly toward our destination.

My friend Edward Harris had parted from us, at New Orleans, and gone up the Mississippi to secure for me a collection of preserved Reptiles and other objects; but, after a more pleasant journey than ours, by way of Mobile, Pensacola, and the level country between the latter and Augusta in Georgia, joined us again at the house of our friend Dr Bachman, where we arrived on the 5th of June. And here, good-natured Reader, let me say to you, that the friendship which had so long subsisted between that reverend gentleman and myself, became, still more cemented by the marriage of his eldest daughter to my youngest son.

In the course of our long journeys through woods and over plains, and of our sinuous sailings along the many bays, creeks or bayous, which we visited on this expedition, notwithstanding all our exertions and constant anxiety, we did not discover a single bird not previously known. However, the enterprise proved exceedingly interesting to my companions and myself, and I trust its results will be found to possess some value in your eyes also, for, as you will perceive, it has enabled me to speak with more confidence on the migratory movements of a good number of species which visit us from southern climes during the breeding season. It also enables me to define more accurately than I could otherwise have done, the geographical distribution of most of those which at various times make their appearance in the different sections of the United States, and other portions of North America.

Leaving Charleston, we reached Norfolk by a steamer, after a short passage of thirty-eight hours, and proceeded at once to Washington, where I presented myself to the President of the United States, Martin van Buren, to whom I had letters from my amiable and celebrated friend, Washington Irving, Esq., and offered my best thanks to the heads of the several departments, and my various friends. We then passed rapidly through Baltimore and Philadelphia, my wish being to reach New York as soon as possible. There I remained a fortnight, while my son and daughter-in-law visited the Falls of Niagara. They having returned, we embarked, on the 16th of July 1837, on board the American packet-ship, the England, commanded by Robert Waite, Esq., for Liverpool, where, seventeen days after, we were safely landed. Here we quickly paid our respects to the Rathbones, the Chorleys, and other friends, to whom bidding adieu at the same time, we proceeded to join my family in London, where, on the 7th of August, we once more met all together.

I found the publication of the “Birds of America” in a satisfactory state of progression, but received the disagreeable intelligence that a great number of my British patrons had discontinued their subscriptions, and that most of those who still received the numbers as they came out, were desirous of seeing the work finished in Eighty Numbers, as I had at first anticipated. On this account, I found myself obliged to introduce, and in some instances to crowd, a number of species into one and the same plate, in order to try to meet the wishes of those who had by their subscriptions in some measure assisted me in the publication of that work. This, however, I did in such a manner as seemed best to accord with the affinities of the species. But, Reader, Dr Townsend meantime returned to Philadelphia, after an absence of about four years, and with a second collection, containing several rare and new birds, which, after meeting with the same difficulties as on the former occasion, in consequence of the opposition of various enlightened persons at Philadelphia, although Dr Townsend was extremely desirous that every thing new or rare belonging to our Fauna should be given to me, I received only a few weeks before closing the engraving of my plates. A few others did not reach me until several days after. What was I to do? Why, Reader, to publish them to be sure; for this I should have done, to the best of my power, even if every subscriber in Europe had refused to take them. What! said I, shall the last volume of the “Birds of America” be now closed, at a time when new species are in my hands? No! And in spite of threats from this quarter and that, that such and such persons would discontinue their subscriptions (which indeed they have done, and refused to take the few numbers that would have rendered their copies complete), my wish to do all that was in my power has been accomplished:—All Dr Townsend’s species, as well as some received through different channels, have been published. To that enthusiastic naturalist and excellent friend I am also deeply indebted for the valuable notes which he has forwarded to me through my friend Edward Harris.

I had the gratification of receiving at London a diploma from the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec; and since then have been favoured with a list of the birds which have been observed in the environs of that city, by William Sheppard, Esq., his lady, and son, for which I offer them my most sincere thanks. I am also much indebted to the members of the Council of the Zoological Society of London, who have never ceased to furnish me with whatever American specimens their valuable museum contains, allowing me to take them to my house. I am farther indebted to my excellent and generous friend Professor J. T. Henslow of Cambridge for the continuance of his most kind services to me. Nor must I here omit mentioning the efficient aid I have received from Thomas Durham Weir, Esq. of Boghead, in the county of Linlithgow, and Mr Macduff Carfrae, Preserver of Animals in Edinburgh, who have kindly procured for me many specimens of British birds for comparison with such of our American species as seemed to be identical.

For several years past I have felt a great desire to place before the world an account of the digestive organs of our various birds. With this view I have, at a great expense, obtained specimens preserved entire in spirits. In collecting them I have received the most effectual aid from several of my American friends, residing in different parts of the country; and in particular from the Rev. Dr Bachman of Charleston in South Carolina, Colonel Theodore Anderson of Baltimore, Dr Richard Harlan of Philadelphia, Dr Thomas M. Brewer of Boston in Massachusetts, Thomas M’Culloch, Esq. of Pictou in Nova Scotia; Alexander Gordon, Esq. of London, who wrote to Havannah for Flamingoes; Jean Chartrand, Esq. who sent me a pair of these birds from Matanzas in Cuba; and from Captain Napoleon Coste of the United States’ Revenue Service. Besides the valuable contributions of these friends, to whom my warmest thanks are due, a vast number of specimens were procured by the members of my several parties, in Labrador, in Texas, and in various parts of the United States, as well as many purchased from Mr Ward of New York. An account of the digestive organs and trachea of these, generally concise, but occasionally of considerable length, you will find under the articles to which they refer, in the present volume. These anatomical descriptions, as well as the sketches by which they are sometimes illustrated, have been executed by my learned friend William Macgillivray, who in the most agreeable manner consented to undertake the labour, by no means small, of such a task, and to whom those who are interested in the progress of Ornithological science, as well as myself, must therefore feel indebted. These details I had resolved to present to you, because I have thought that no perfect knowledge of the affinities of species can be obtained until their internal organization is known. I believe the time to be fast approaching when much of the results obtained from the inspection of the exterior alone will be laid aside; when museums filled with stuffed skins will be considered insufficient to afford a knowledge of birds; and when the student will go forth not only to observe the habits and haunts of animals, but to procure specimens of them to be carefully dissected.

When I commenced the present volume, I expected that it should contain descriptions of all the species represented in the fourth volume of my Illustrations; but, on proceeding, I found that, even without Episodes, which I have been obliged to exclude, in order to make room for anatomical notices, of more interest to the scientific reader, I could not include more than the usual number of one hundred species. In the fifth and concluding volume, the printing of which has already begun, you will find Descriptions of upwards of a hundred species, many of which are new to science, together with Lists illustrative of the geographical distribution of birds, an Appendix containing additions and corrections, and, finally, a Synopsis of the Birds of North America, methodically arranged, with generic and specific characters.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

Edinburgh, 1st November 1838.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.

ORNITHOLOGICAL BIOGRAPHY.

CANVASS-BACK DUCK.

Fuligula valisneriana, Stephens.
PLATE CCCI. Male and Female.

The range of the celebrated Duck with the history of which I commence the fourth volume of my Biographs, may be considered as limited on the one hand by the mouths of the Mississippi, and on the other by the Hudson or North River. Beyond the latter it is rarely seen at any season on our eastern coasts; and this circumstance, conjoined with its being now and then observed on the upper waters of our Western Districts, and its breeding in great numbers on the borders of Bear River, which flows into the salt lake of Timpanajoz in upper California, as well as in the marshes and along the banks of streams in many parts of the Rocky Mountains, induces me to believe that the individuals of this species, instead of proceeding along the shores, pass overland towards their breeding grounds, however far northward they may be situated. According to Dr Richardson, it breeds in all parts of the Fur-Countries, from the 50th parallel to their most northern limits.

While in our Atlantic Districts, it is found in much greater numbers on the Chesapeake and the streams that flow into it, than any where else. Indeed it is not more than twenty years since its regular appearance and sojourn on the waters of the Southern States has been observed or at least acknowledged. Although at New Orleans, where it goes by the name of Canard Cheval, it has been known to the oldest duck-shooters now alive, from their earliest recollection, it is not more than about fifteen years since it began to rise, from a very low price to two dollars the pair, at which it sold during my visit in March 1837.

This enhancement of its value I look upon as having arisen from the preference given to it by the epicures of our Middle Districts, who have strangely lauded it as superior to every other duck in the world. This alleged pre-eminence has indeed become so deeply impressed on the minds of many of our Southerns, that they have on various occasions procured the transportation of numbers of Canvass-backs from Baltimore to Charleston in South Carolina, and even to Savannah in Georgia, although this species is by no means uncommon within a few miles of the latter city, as well as on the Great Santee River. I well remember that on my pointing out to a friend, now alas dead, several dozens of these birds in the market of Savannah, he would scarcely believe that I was not mistaken, and assured me that they were looked upon as being poor, dry, and very fishy, in short not half so good as Mallards, or Blue-winged Teals. With this I cordially agreed, for there, at that season, they are not better than represented.

I found this species in considerable numbers on and about the numerous inlets and rivers of East Florida; but did not see a single individual on the Gulf of St Lawrence, along the coast of Labrador, or on that of Newfoundland.

It arrives in the neighbourhood of New Orleans from the 20th of October to the end of December, coming in flocks of eight or twelve, probably the members of a single family, and, unlike many other species, keeping in small groups during winter. At the approach of spring however they flock together, and about the first of April depart in large bodies. During their stay, they are wont to alight on wet prairies and muddy ponds in all open places, feeding on the seeds of various plants, of which may be particularized the wild oat and the water lily.

According to Alexander Wilson, who first described this species, their arrival in autumn in the Middle Districts takes place about the 15th of October; but more recent writers say, that “unless the weather to the north has been severe, the Canvass-back rarely appears till the middle of November.” With this I fully agree, being convinced that their journeys to and from their breeding places are performed across the country. Were this perfectly ascertained, it would prove that this species, unlike most other ducks, instead of removing farther southward in autumn and winter, takes what may be called a lateral march toward our Eastern Districts, in which it remains until the weather has become too cold for its constitution, when it is forced a second time to migrate, and betake itself to warmer parts of the country, where it continues during the rest of the winter.

The flight of this species, although resembling that of our larger sea-ducks in having the appearance of being rather laboured, is strong, rapid, at times very elevated, and well sustained. It swims deeply, especially when under apprehension of danger, and this probably the better to enable it to escape by diving, at which it is almost as expert as our sea or diving ducks. But although its speed on the water is considerable, it moves rather heavily on land. Its food varies, according to the season and locality. The plant named Valisneria, on which it is said to feed when on the head waters of the Chesapeake, is not found equally abundant in other parts, and even there is at times so reduced in quantity, that this duck and several other species which are equally fond of it, are obliged to have recourse to fishes, tadpoles, water-lizards, leeches, snails, and molluscs, as well as such seeds as they can meet with; all which have been in greater or less quantity found in their stomach.

Nothing is known of its manners during the breeding season; and we are equally ignorant of the changes of plumage which, like other species, it may undergo at that period.

As I have not had very good opportunities of making myself acquainted with the modes in which the Canvass-backs are obtained for the markets, I here present an account of duck-shooting on the waters of the Chesapeake, published some years ago in the “Cabinet of Natural History,” and of which a copy has been transmitted to me by its author, Dr J. J. Sharpless, of Philadelphia, to whom, for this and other marks of attention, I offer my best thanks.

“The Chesapeake Bay, with its tributary streams, has, from its discovery, been known as the greatest resort of water-fowl in the United States. This has depended on the profusion of their food, which is accessible on the immense flats or shoals that are found near the mouth of the Susquehanna, along the entire length of North-East and Elk Rivers, and on the shores of the bay and connecting streams, as far south as York and James Rivers.

“The quantity of fowl of late years has been decidedly less than in times gone by; and I have met with persons who have assured me that the number has decreased one-half in the last fifteen years. This change has arisen, most probably, from the vast increase in their destruction, from the greater number of persons who now make a business or pleasure of this sport, as well as the constant disturbance they meet with on many of their feeding grounds, which induces them to distribute themselves more widely, and forsake their usual haunts.

“As early as the first and second weeks in October, the smaller ducks, as the Buffel-head, Anas Albeola; South-southerly, A. glacialis; and the Ruddy or Heavy-tailed Duck, A. rubidus, begin to shew themselves in the upper part of the bay; and by the last of the month, the Black-head, A. Marila; Widgeon or Bald-pate, A. Americana; Red-head, A. Ferina; and the Goose, A. Canadensis, appear, and rapidly distribute themselves down the bay. The Canvass-back, A. Valisneria, and the Swan, Cygnus Americanus, rarely, unless the weather to the north has been severe, appear in quantities till the middle of November. All these fowl, when first arrived, are thin and tasteless, from their privation during their migration, and perhaps preparatory arrangements, and require some days at least of undisturbed repose, to give them that peculiar flavour for which some of them are so celebrated. During the low tides succeeding their arrival, the birds sit on the flats far from the shores, and rarely rise to the wing unless disturbed; but when the spring-tides render the water too deep for feeding, they commence their career, and pass down the bay in the morning, and return in the evening. Most of these fowl feed on the same grass, which grows abundantly on the shallows in the bay and adjacent waters, and has been called duck-grass, Valisneria Americana. It grows from six to eighteen inches in length, and is readily pulled up by the root. Persons who have closely observed these ducks while feeding, say that the Canvass-back and Black-head dive and pull the grass from the ground, and feed on the roots, and that the Red-head and Bald-pate then consume the leaves. Indeed, although the Bald-pate is a much smaller bird than the Canvass-back, it has been seen to rob the latter, immediately on its return from under the water, of all its spoil.

“All these larger ducks are found together when feeding, but separate when on the wing. That they feed on the same grass, is evident from the similarity of flavour; and those most accustomed to the article have a difficulty in deciding on the kind of duck from the taste. Indeed, the Bald-pate is generally preferred by residents.

“By the middle of December, particularly if the weather has been a little severe, the fowl of every kind have become so fat, that I have seen Canvass-backs burst open in the breast in falling on the water; and spending less time in feeding, they pass up and down the bay from river to river, in their morning and evening flights, giving, at certain localities, great opportunities for destruction. They pursue, even in their short passages, very much the order of their migratory movements, flying in a line, or baseless triangle; and when the wind blows on the points which may lie on their course, the sportsman has great chances of success. These points or courses of the ducks are materially affected by the winds, for they avoid, if possible, an approach to the shore; but when a strong breeze sets them on these projections of the land, they are compelled to pass within shot, and often over the land itself.

“In the Susquehanna and Elk rivers, there are few of these points for shooting, and there success depends on approaching them while on their feeding grounds. After leaving the eastern point at the mouth of the Susquehanna and Turkey Point, the western side of the Elk River, which are both moderately good for flying shooting, the first place of much celebrity is the Narrows, between Spesutie Island and the western shore. These narrows are about three miles in length, and from three to five hundred yards in breadth. By the middle of November, the Canvass-backs in particular, begin to feed in this passage, and the entrance and outlet, as well as many intermediate spots, become very successful stations. A few miles further down the western shore is Taylor’s Island, which is situated at the mouth of the Rumney, and Abbey Island at the mouth of Bush River, which are both celebrated for ducks, as well as swans and geese. These are the most northerly points where large fowl are met with, and projecting out between deep coves, where immense numbers of these birds feed, they possess great advantages. The south point of Bush River, or Legoe’s Point, and Robbin’s and Rickett’s Points near Gunpowder River, are fruitful localities. Immediately at the mouth of this river is situated Carroll’s Island, which has long been known as a great shooting ground, and is in the rentage of a company at a high rate. Maxwell’s Point, as well as some others up this and other rivers, and even further down the bay, are good places, but less celebrated than those I have mentioned. Most of these points are let out as shooting grounds to companies and individuals, and they are esteemed so valuable that intruders are severely treated.

“It has been ascertained that disturbing the fowl on the feeding flats is followed in most cases by their forsaking those haunts, and seeking others; hence, in the rivers leading to the bay near flying points, they are never annoyed by boat-shooting, either by night or day, and although the discharge of guns from the shore may arouse them for a time, they soon return; whereas a boat or sail in chase a few times, will make them forsake a favourite spot for days.

“From the great number of ducks that are seen in all directions, one would suppose that there could be no doubt of success at any one of the points in the course of flight; but whilst they have such correct vision as to distance, and wide range of space, unless attending circumstances are favourable, a sportsman may be days without a promising shot. From the western side of the bay, and it is there the best grounds are found, the southerly winds are the most favourable; and, if a high tide is attended by a smart frost and mild south wind, or even calm morning, the number of birds set in motion becomes inconceivable, and they approach the points so closely, that even a moderately good shot can procure from fifty to one hundred ducks a-day. This has often occurred, and I have seen eight fat Canvass-backs killed at one discharge into a flock, from a small gun.

“To a stranger visiting these waters, the innumerable ducks, feeding in beds of thousands, or filling the air with their careering, with the great numbers of beautiful white swans resting near the shores, like banks of driven snow, might induce him to suppose that the facilities for their destruction were equal to their profusion, and that with so large an object in view, a sportsman could scarcely miss his aim. But, when he considers the great thickness of their covering, the velocity of their flight, the rapidity and duration of their diving, and the great influence that circumstances of wind and weather have on the chances of success, it becomes a matter of wonder how so many are destroyed.

“The usual mode of taking these birds has been, till recently, by shooting them from the points during their flight, or from the land or boats, on their feeding grounds, or by toling, as it is strangely termed, an operation by which the ducks are sometimes induced to approach within a few feet of the shore, from a distance often of several hundred yards. A spot is usually selected where the birds have not been much disturbed, and where they feed at three or four hundred yards from, and can approach to within forty or fifty yards of the shore, as they will never come nearer than they can swim freely. The higher the tides, and the calmer the day, the better, for they feed closer to the shores and see more distinctly. Most persons on these waters have a race of small white or liver-coloured dogs, which they familiarly call the toler breed, but which appear to be the ordinary poodle. These dogs are extremely playful, and are taught to run up and down the shore, in sight of the ducks, either by the motion of the hand, or by throwing chips from side to side. They soon become perfectly acquainted with their business, and as they discover the ducks approaching them, make their jumps less high till they almost crawl on the ground, to prevent the birds discovering what the object of their curiosity may be. This disposition to examine rarities has been taken advantage of by using a red or black handkerchief by day, and a white one by night in toling, or even by gently plashing the water on the shore. The nearest ducks soon notice the strange appearance, raise their heads, gaze intently for a moment, and then push for the shore, followed by the rest. On many occasions, I have seen thousands of them swimming in a solid mass direct to the object; and by removing the dog farther into the grass, they have been brought within fifteen feet of the bank. When they have approached to about thirty or forty yards, their curiosity is generally satisfied, and after swimming up and down for a few seconds, they retrograde to their former station. The moment to shoot is while they present their sides, and forty or fifty ducks have often been killed by a small gun. The Black-heads toll the most readily, then the Red-heads, next the Canvass-backs, and the Bald-pates rarely. This also is the ratio of their approach to the points in flying, although, if the Canvass-back has determined on his direction, few circumstances will change his course. The total absence of cover or precaution against exposure to sight, or even a large fire, will not turn these birds aside on such occasions. In flying-shooting, the Bald-pates are a great nuisance, for they are so shy that they not only avoid the points themselves, but by their whistling and confusion of flight at such times, alarm others.

“Simple as it may appear to shoot with success into a solid mass of ducks sitting on the water at forty or fifty yards’ distance, yet when you recollect that you are placed nearly level with the surface, the object opposed to you, even though composed of hundreds of individuals, may be in appearance but a few feet in width. To give, therefore, the best promise of success, old duckers recommend that the nearest duck should be in perfect relief above the sight, whatever the size of the column, to avoid the common result of over-shooting. The correctness of this principle I saw illustrated in an instance in which I had toled to within a space of from forty to seventy yards off the shore, a bed of certainly hundreds of ducks. Twenty yards beyond the outside birds of the dense mass, were five Black-heads, one of which was alone killed out of the whole number, by a deliberate aim into the middle of the large flock from a rest, by a heavy well-proved duck-gun.

“Before I leave the subject of sitting-shooting, I will mention an occurrence that took place in Bush River, a few years since. A man whose house was situated near the bank, on rising early one morning, observed that the river had frozen, except an open space of ten or twelve feet in diameter, about eighty yards from the shore, nearly opposite his house. The spot was full of ducks, and with a heavy gun he fired into it. Many were killed, and those that flew soon returned, and were again and again shot at, till, fearful that he was injuring those already his own, he ceased the massacre, and brought on shore ninety-two ducks, most of which were Canvass-backs.

“To prevent the dogs, whilst toling, from running in, they are not allowed to go into the water to bring out the ducks, but another breed of large dogs of the Newfoundland and water-spaniel mixture are employed. These animals, whilst toling is in progression, or at a point, take apparently as much interest in success as the sportsman himself. During a flight, their eyes are incessantly occupied in watching the direction from whence the birds come; and I have frequently seen them indicate by their manner, the approach of a flock so distant that the human eye would have overlooked it. As the ducks come on, the dog lies down, but still closely observing them, and the moment the discharge occurs, jumps up to see the effect. If a duck falls dead, they plunge to bring it; but many of them wait to see how he falls, and whither he swims, and they seem to be as aware as the gunner, of the improbability of capture, and will not make the attempt, knowing from experience that a bird merely winged will generally save himself by swimming and diving. These dogs usually bring one duck at a time out of the water; but a real Newfoundland, who was with me and my company this autumn, was seen on several occasions to swim twenty yards further, and take a second in the mouth to carry on shore. The indefatigability and ambition of these animals are remarkable, and a gentleman informed me he had known his dog bring, in the space of one hour, twenty Canvass-backs and three Swans from the water, when the weather was so severe that the animal was covered with icicles, and to prevent his freezing be took his great-coat to envelope him. Some dogs will dive a considerable distance after a duck, but a crippled Canvass-back or Black-head, will swim so far under the water, that they can rarely be caught by the dog; and it often has been observed, that the moment one of these ducks, if merely winged, reaches the surface, he passes under, and however calm, cannot be seen again. To give an idea of the extreme rapidity with which a duck can dive, I will relate an occurrence which was noticed by myself, and a similar one was observed by another of the party the same day. A male South-southerly was shot at in the water by a percussion-gun, and after escaping the shot by diving, commenced his flight. When about forty yards from the boat, he had acquired an elevation of a foot or more from the surface. A second percussion-gun was discharged, and he dived from the wing at the flash, and though the spot of entrance was covered by the shot, soon rose unharmed and flew.

“Canvass-backs, when wounded on the streams near the bay, instantly direct their course for it, and there nestle among the grass on the shores till cured, or destroyed by eagles, hawks, gulls, foxes, or other vermin, that are constantly on the search. If a dead Canvass-back be not soon secured, it becomes a prey to the gulls, which rarely touch any other kind. I have seen severe contests take place between crippled Canvass-backs and Gulls; and although a pounce or two generally prevents further resistance, sometimes they are driven off. If the bird is remarkably savoury, the gull makes such a noise, that others are soon collected, when possession is determined by courage or strength.

“Another mode of taking Ducks consists in placing gilling-nets under water on the feeding-grounds, and when they dive for food, their head and wings become entangled in the meshes, and they are drowned. This plan, though successful at first, soon drives the bird from these places; and in some cases, a few applications have entirely prevented their return for some weeks. Paddling upon them in the night or day produces the same effect, and although practised to some extent on Bush River is highly disapproved of by persons shooting from points. For the last three years a man has been occupied on this stream with a gun of great size, fixed on a swivel in a boat, and the destruction of game on their feeding-flats has been immense; but so unpopular is the plan, that many schemes have been privately proposed of destroying his boat and gun, and he has been fired at with balls so often that his expeditions are at present confined to the night. Sailing with a stiff breeze upon the geese and swans, or throwing rifle-balls from the shore into their beds, is sometimes successful.

“Moonlight shooting has not been a general practice, but as these birds are in motion during light nights, they could readily be brought within range by “honking” them when flying. This sound is very perfectly imitated at Egg Harbour; and I have seen geese drawn at a right angle from their course by this note. They can indeed be made to hover over the spot, and if a captive bird was employed, the success would become certain.

“Notwithstanding the apparent facilities that are offered of success, the amusement of duck-shooting is probably one of the most exposing to cold and wet, and those who undertake its enjoyment without a courage “screwed to the sticking-point”, will soon discover that “to one good a thousand ills oppose.” It is indeed no parlour sport, for after creeping through mud and mire, often for hundreds of yards, to be at last disappointed, and stand exposed on points to the “pelting rain or more than freezing cold,” for hours, without even the promise of a shot, would try the patience of even Franklin’s “glorious nibbler.” It is, however, replete with excitement and charm, and to one who can enter on the pleasure, with a system formed for polar cold, and a spirit to endure “the weary toil of many a stormy day,” it will yield a harvest of health and delight, that the “roamer of the woods” can rarely enjoy.”

Although this far-famed bird was named by its discoverer after the plant Valisneria Americana, on which it partially feeds when on fresh-water, its subsistence is by no means dependent upon that species, which indeed is not extensively distributed, but is chiefly derived from the grass-wrack or Eel-grass, Zostera marina, which is very abundant on the shallows and flats along the whole sea-coast. Its flesh seems to me not generally much superior to that of the Pochard or Red-head, which often mingles in the same flocks; and both species are very frequently promiscuously sold in the markets as Canvass-backs.

In the Plate are represented two Males and a Female. In the back ground is a view of Baltimore, which I have had great pleasure in introducing, on account of the hospitality which I have there experienced, and the generosity of its inhabitants, who, on the occasion of a quantity of my plates having been destroyed by the mob during an outburst of political feeling, indemnified me for the loss.

Fuligula Valisneria, Bonap. Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 392.

Anas Valisneria, Wils. Amer. Ornith., vol. viii. p. 103. pl. 70. fig. 5.

Fuligula Valisneria, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. iv. Part II. p. 450.

Canvass-backed Duck, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 430.

Adult Male. Plate CCCI. Fig. 1, 2.

Bill as long as the head, deeper than broad at the base, the margins parallel, slightly dilated towards the end, which is rounded, the frontal angles rather narrow and pointed. Upper mandible with the dorsal line at first straight and declinate, then slightly concave, direct for a short space near the tip, where it is incurved, the ridge broad and concave at the base, narrowed at the middle, enlarged and convex at the end, the sides nearly erect and concave at the base, becoming anteriorly more and more declinate and convex, the edges curved upwards, with about 50 lamellæ, the unguis small and oblong. Nostrils submedial, linear-oblong, rather large, pervious, near the ridge, in an oblong depression covered with soft membrane. Lower mandible flattened, being but slightly convex, with the angle very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short and straight, the erect edges with about 55 inferior and 105 superior lamellæ, the unguis obovato-elliptical.

Head rather large, compressed, convex above. Eyes small. Neck of moderate length, rather thick. Body full, depressed. Wings small. Feet very short, strong, placed rather far behind; tarsus very short, compressed, anteriorly with narrow scutella continuous with those of the middle toe, and having another series commencing half-way down and continuous with those of the outer toe, the rest reticulated with angular scales. Hind toe small, with an inner expanded margin or web; middle toe nearly double the length of the tarsus, outer a little shorter. Claws small, compressed, that of the first toe very small and curved, of the third toe larger and more expanded than the rest.

Plumage dense, soft, blended. Feathers of the upper part of the head small and rather compact, of the rest of the head and neck small, blended, and glossy. Wings shortish, narrow, pointed; primary quills strong, tapering, the first longest, the second almost as long, the rest rapidly diminishing; secondary quills broad and rounded, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail very short, much rounded, or wedge-shaped, of fourteen feathers.

Bill black, with a tinge of green. Iris bright carmine. Upper part of the head, and a space along the base of the bill dusky; a small transverse band of white on what is called the chin; the rest of the head, and the neck all round, for more than half its length, of a rich brownish-red. A broad belt of brownish-black occupies the lower part of the neck, and the fore part of the body, of which the posterior part is of the same colour, more extended on the back than under the tail. Back and scapulars white or greyish-white, very minutely traversed by undulating black lines; wing-coverts similar but darker. Alular feathers greyish-brown. Primary quills brownish-black, tinged with grey towards the base; the shaft brown. Secondaries ash-grey, whitish, and undulated with dark grey towards the end; five of them also having a narrow stripe of black along their outer margin. Tail brownish-grey, towards the end ash-grey. The lower parts white, the sides and abdomen marked with fine undulating grey lines, of which there are faint traces on most of the other feathers. The feet are greyish-blue tinged with yellow.

Length to end of tail 22 inches, to end of wings 20, to end of claws 25; extent of wings 33; wing, from flexure, 9 3/4; tail 2 10/12; bill along the back, measured from the tip of the frontal process to the end of the unguis, 3; lower mandible along the edge 2 7/12; tarsus 1 3/4; first toe 6/12, its claw 5/12; middle toe 2 10/12, its claw 5/12; outer toe scarcely shorter; inner, 7/12 shorter. Weight 3 3/4 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCCI. Fig. 2.

The Female has the bill coloured as in the male; the iris reddish-brown; the feet lead-grey; the upper parts greyish-brown; the top of the head darker, its anterior part light reddish; the chin whitish; the neck greyish-brown, as are the sides and abdomen; the breast white; wing-coverts brownish-grey; primary quills greyish-brown, dusky at the end; secondary quills ash-grey, five of the inner with an external black margin, the innermost greyish-brown like the back, and with some of the scapulars faintly undulated with darker. Tail greyish-brown, paler at the end; axillars and smaller under wing-coverts white, as in the male.

Length to end of tail, 20 1/4 inches, to end of wings 18 1/2, to end of claws, 23 1/4; extent of wings, 30 3/4: wing from flexure, 9 1/4. Weigh 2 3/4 lb.

This species is very closely allied to the Pochard, or Red-headed Duck, Fuligula Ferina, but is much larger, and differs in having the bill proportionally higher at the base, and less dilated towards the end. The colours are also generally similar, but present differences. The upper parts of the Canvass-back are much whiter than those of the Pochard; the head of the former is dusky above, of the latter uniform with the neck; and the white spot on the chin is wanting in the Pochard.

The Digestive and Respiratory Organs of a male shot near Baltimore present the following characters.

The upper mandible is broadly and deeply concave. The tongue, which is thick and fleshy, as in other ducks, is 2 2/12 inches long, its sides parallel, slightly sloping, and furnished with two series of bristly filaments; its base with numerous straight conical papillæ directed backwards, its upper surface marked with a broad median groove, the lower flat, its extremity formed by a thin semi-circular appendage, a quarter of an inch in length. The œsophagus passes along the right side of the neck, for six inches has a diameter of 5/12 then dilates to 9/12, so as to form a slight crop, again contracts as it enters the thorax, and in terminating forms the proventriculus, which is 1 3/4 inches in length, with oblong glandules, generally a twelfth of an inch in length. The stomach is a very large and powerful gizzard, of a broadly elliptical form, with extremely thick lateral muscles, the left being 11/12 in thickness, the right 10/12, the tendons large and strong. The transverse diameter of the gizzard is 2 11/12 inches, the longitudinal, from the cardiac orifice to the bulge of the inferior muscle, 2 1/12. Its cuticular lining is of very dense texture, and rugous; the grinding plates opposite the lateral muscles about half a twelfth thick, and slightly rugous. The intestine, which is 5 feet 9 inches in length, first forms in the usual manner the duodenal fold, at the distance of 5 inches from the pylorus, encloses the pancreas, receives the biliary ducts, and passing under the right lobe of the liver, proceeds backward beneath the kidneys, is convoluted in several large folds, and finally from above the stomach, passes in a direct course to the anus. Its coats are thick, its inner surface villous, and its diameter is considerable, being in the first part of the duodenum 9/12, then for two feet from 5/12 to 4/12, enlarged again to 6/12, and so continuing to the rectum, which is 6 inches long, 1/2 inch in diameter, and ends in an enlargement or cloaca, about an inch in diameter. The cœca, which commence at the distance of 6 inches from the anus, are 8 inches long, slender, 2/12 in diameter for 3 inches, afterwards about 3/12, with the extremity obtuse. The œsophagus and stomach contained young shoots of Zostera marina, and in the latter were numerous particles of quartz.

The trachea, when moderately extended, measures 10 inches in length, and is furnished with strong lateral or contractor muscles, a pair of cleido-tracheal, and a pair of more slender sterno-tracheal. Its diameter at the upper part is 4 1/2 twelfths, it gradually contracts to 3 1/2 twelfths, enlarges to 4 1/2 twelfths, and at the distance of 7 1/4 inches from the upper extremity, forms a dilatation about an inch in length, and 7/12 in its greatest diameter, but composed of distinct rings, then contracts to 5/12, and ends in a bony and membranous expansion, forming on the left side an irregular thin disk, convex towards the right, and flattened towards the left where it is membranous. The expansions of the trachea are thus similar to those of the Red-breasted Merganser, but of less extent; the rings are of equal breadth on both sides, but alternately overlap each other, one side being partially concealed by the corresponding sides of those above and below it, while the other stands exposed. The lower larynx is formed of ten united rings, together with the bony and membranous expansion described. The tracheal rings, rather broad and osseous, are 118; the half-rings of the bronchi about 16.

DUSKY DUCK.

Anas Obscura, Gmel.
PLATE CCCII. Male and Female.

This species, which is known in all parts of the United States by the name of “Black Duck,” extends its migrations from the Straits of Belle Isle, on the coast of Labrador, to the province of Texas. Strange as the fact may appear, it breeds in both these countries, as well as in many of the intermediate districts. On the 10th of May 1833, I found it breeding along the marshy edges of inland pools, near the Bay of Fundy, and, on Whitehead Island in the same bay, saw several young birds of the same species, which, although apparently not more than a week old, were extremely active both on land and in the water. On the 30th of April 1837, my son discovered a nest on Galveston Island, in Texas. It was formed of grass and feathers, the eggs eight in number, lying on the former, surrounded with the down and some feathers of the bird, to the height of about three inches. The internal diameter of the nest was about six inches, and its walls were nearly three in thickness. The female was sitting, but flew off in silence as he approached. The situation selected was a clump of tall slender grass, on a rather sandy ridge, more than a hundred yards from the nearest water, but surrounded by partially dried salt-marshes. On the same island, in the course of several successive days, we saw many of these ducks, which, by their actions, shewed that they also had nests. I may here state my belief, that the Gadwall, Blue-winged Teal, Green-winged Teal, Mallard, American Widgeon, and Spoon-billed Duck, all breed in that country, as I observed them there late in May, when they were evidently paired. How far this fact may harmonize with the theories of writers respecting the migration of birds in general, is more than I can at present stop to consider. I have found the Black Duck breeding on lakes near the Mississippi, as far up as its confluence with the Ohio, as well as in Pennsylvania and New Jersey; and every one acquainted with its habits will tell you, that it rears its young in all the Eastern States intervening between that last mentioned and the St Lawrence, and is of not less frequent occurrence along the margins of all our great lakes. It is even found on the Columbia River, and on the streams of the Rocky Mountains; but as Dr Richardson has not mentioned his having observed it in Hudson’s Bay or farther north, we may suppose that it does not visit those countries.

On arriving in Labrador, on the 17th June 1833, we found the Dusky Ducks in the act of incubation, but for nearly a month after, met with no young birds, which induced me to suppose that this species does not reach that country at so early a period as many others, but lingers behind so as to be nearly four weeks later than some of them. At the end of four weeks after our arrival, all the females we met with had young broods, which they led about the fresh-water ponds, and along their margins, either in search of food, or to secure them from danger. None of these broods exceeded seven or eight in number, and, at this early period of their life, we found them covered with long soft down of a deep brown colour. When alarmed they would dive with great celerity several times in succession, but soon became fatigued, made for the shore, ran a few feet from the water, and squatted among the grass, where they were easily caught either by some of our party, or by the Gulls, which are constantly on the look-out for such dainty food. At other times, as soon as the mother apprehends danger, she calls her young around her, when the little things form themselves into a line in her wake, and carefully follow her in all her movements. If a Hawk or a Gull make a plunge towards them, she utters a loud cry of alarm, and then runs as it were along the surface of the water, when the young dive as quick as lightning, and do not rise again until they find themselves among the weeds or the rocks along the shores. When they thus dive, they separate and pursue different directions, and on reaching the land lie close among the herbage until assured, by the well-known voice of their parent, that the danger is over. If they have often been disturbed in one pond, their anxious mother leads them overland to another; but she never, I believe, conducts them to the open sea, until they are able to fly. The young grow with remarkable rapidity, for, by the middle of August, they almost equal their parents in size; and their apprehension of danger keeps pace with their growth, for at the period of their southward migration, which takes place in the beginning of September, they are as wild and as cunning as the oldest and most experienced of their species. Each brood migrates separately; and the old males, which abandoned the females when incubation commenced, set out in groups of eight or ten. Indeed, it is not common to see birds of this species assemble in such flocks as their relatives the Mallards, although they at times associate with almost all the fresh-water Ducks.

The males, on leaving the females, join together in small bands, and retire into the interior of the marshes, where they remain until their moult is completed. My young friend Cooledge brought me a pair shot on the 4th of July, in Labrador, in so ragged a state that very few feathers remained even on the wings. On his approaching them, they skimmed over the surface of the water with such rapidity, that when shot at they seemed as if flying away. On examining these individuals I found them to be sterile, and I am of opinion that those which are prolific moult at a later period, nature thus giving more protracted vigour to those which have charge of a young brood. I think, Reader, you will be of the same opinion, when I have told you, that on the 5th of July I found some which had young, and which were still in full plumage, and others, that were broodless, almost destitute of feathers.

As many of the nests found in Labrador differed from the one mentioned above, I will give you an account of them. In several instances, we found them imbedded in the deep moss, at the distance of a few feet or yards from the water. They were composed of a great quantity of dry grass and other vegetable substances; and the eggs were always placed directly on this bed without the intervention of the down and feathers, which, however, surrounded them, and which, as I observed, the bird always uses to cover them when she is about to leave the nest for a time. Should she be deprived of her eggs, she goes in search of a male, and lays another set; but unless a robbery of this kind happens, she raises only a single brood in the season. But although this is the case in Labrador, I was assured that this species rears two broods yearly in Texas, although, having been but a short time in that country, I cannot vouch for the truth of this assertion. The eggs are two inches and a quarter in length, one inch and five-eighths in breadth, shaped like those of the domestic fowl, with a smooth surface, and of a uniform yellowish-white colour, like that of ivory tarnished by long exposure. The young, like those of the Mallard, acquire the full beauty of their spring plumage before the season of reproduction commences, but exhibit none of the curious changes which that species undergoes.

Although the Dusky Duck is often seen on salt-water bays or inlets, it resembles the Mallard in its habits, being fond of swampy marshes, rice-fields, and the shady margins of our rivers, during the whole of its stay in such portions of the Southern States as it is known to breed in. They are equally voracious, and may sometimes be seen with their crops so protruded as to destroy the natural elegance of their form. They devour, with the greatest eagerness, water-lizards, young frogs and toads, tadpoles, all sorts of insects, acorns, beech nuts, and every kind of grain that they can obtain. They also, at times, seize on small quadrupeds, gobble up earth-worms and leeches, and when in salt water, feed on shell-fish. When on the water, they often procure their food by immersing their head and neck, and, like the Mallard, sift the produce of muddy pools. Like that species also, they will descend in a spiral manner from on high, to alight under an oak or a beech, when they have discovered the mast to be abundant.

Shy and vigilant, they are with difficulty approached by the gunner, unless under cover or on horseback, or in what sportsmen call floats, or shallow boats made for the purpose of procuring water-fowl. They are, however, easily caught in traps set on the margins of the waters to which they resort, and baited with Indian corn, rice, or other grain. They may also be enticed to wheel round, and even alight, by imitating their notes, which, in both sexes, seem to me almost precisely to resemble those of the Mallard. From that species, indeed, they scarcely differ in external form, excepting in wanting the curiously recurved feathers of the tail, which Nature, as if clearly to distinguish the two species, had purposely omitted in them.

The flight of this Duck, which, in as far as I know, is peculiar to America, is powerful, rapid, and as sustained as that of the Mallard. While travelling by day they may be distinguished from that species by the whiteness of their lower wing-coverts, which form a strong contrast to the deep tints of the rest of their plumage, and which I have attempted to represent in the figure of the female bird in my plate. Their progress through the air, when at full speed, must, I think, be at the rate of more than a mile in a minute, or about seventy miles in an hour. When about to alight, they descend with double rapidity, causing a strong rustling sound by the weight of their compact body and the rapid movements of their pointed wings. When alarmed by a shot or otherwise, they rise off their feet by a single powerful spring, fly directly upwards for eight or ten yards, and then proceed in a straight line. Now, if you are an expert hand, is the moment to touch your trigger, and if you delay, be sure your shot will fall short.

As it is attached to particular feeding grounds, and returns to them until greatly molested, you may, by secreting yourself within shooting distance, anticipate a good result; for even although shot at, it will reappear several times in succession in the course of a few hours, unless it has been wounded. The gunners in the vicinity of Boston, in Massachusetts, who kill great numbers of these birds, on account of the high price obtained for them in the fine market of that beautiful and hospitable city, procure them in the following manner:—They keep live decoy-ducks of the Mallard kind, which they take with them in their floats or boats. On arriving at a place which they know to be suitable, they push or haul their boat into some small nook, and conceal it among the grass or rushes. Then they place their decoys, one in front of their ambush, the rest on either side, each having a line attached to one of its feet, with a stone at the other end, by which it is kept as if riding at anchor. One of the birds is retained in the boat, where the gunner lies concealed, and in cold weather amply covered with thick and heavy clothing. No sooner is all in order, than the decoy-ducks, should some wild birds appear, sound their loud call-notes, anxious as they feel to be delivered from their sad bondage. Should this fail to produce the desired effect of drawing the wild ducks near, the poor bird in the boat is pinched on the rump, when it immediately calls aloud; those at anchor respond, and the joint clamour attracts the travellers, who now check their onward speed, wheel several times over the spot, and at last alight. The gunner seldom waits long for a shot, and often kills fifteen or twenty of the Black Ducks at a single discharge of his huge piece, which is not unfrequently charged with as much as a quarter of a pound of powder and three quarters of a pound of shot!

The Black Ducks generally appear in the sound of Long Island in September or October, but in very cold weather proceed southward; while those which breed in Texas, as I have been informed, remain there all the year. At their first arrival they betake themselves to the fresh-water ponds, and soon become fat, when they afford excellent eating; but when the ponds are covered with ice, and they are forced to betake themselves to estuaries or inlets of the sea, their flesh becomes less juicy and assumes a fishy flavour. During continued frost they collect into larger bodies than at any other time, a flock once alighted seeming to attract others, until at last hundreds of them meet, especially in the dawn and towards sunset. The larger the flock however, the more difficult it is to approach it, for many sentinels are seen on the look-out, while the rest are asleep or feeding along the shores. Unlike the “Sea Ducks,” this species does not ride at anchor, as it were, during its hours of repose.

My friend, the Reverend Dr John Bachman, assures me that this bird, which some years ago was rather scarce in South Carolina, is now becoming quite abundant in that state, where, during autumn and winter, it resorts to the rice fields. After feeding a few weeks on the seeds it becomes fat, juicy, and tender. He adds that the farther inland, the more plentifully does it occur, which may be owing to the many steamers that ply on the rivers along the sea coast, where very few are to be seen. They are however followed in their retreats, and shot in great numbers, so that the markets of Charleston are now amply supplied with them. He also informs me that he has known hybrid broods produced by a male of this species and the common domestic duck; and that he had three of these hybrid females, the eggs of all of which were productive. The young birds were larger than either of their parents, but although they laid eggs in the course of the following spring, not one of these proved impregnated. He further states that he procured three nests of the Dusky Duck in the State of New York.

The young of this species, in the early part of autumn, afford delicious eating, and, in my estimation, are much superior in this respect to the more celebrated Canvass-back Duck. That the species should not before now have been brought into a state of perfect domestication, only indicates our reluctance unnecessarily to augment the comforts which have been so bountifully accorded by Nature to the inhabitants of our happy country. In our eastern markets the price of these birds is from a dollar to a dollar and fifty cents the pair. They are dearer at New Orleans, but much cheaper in the States of Ohio and Kentucky, where they are still more abundant. Their feathers are elastic, and as valuable as those of any other species.

I have represented a pair of these birds procured in the full perfection of their plumage.

Anas obscura, Lath. Synops. iii. p. 545.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 384.

Dusky Duck, Anas obscura, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p. 141. pl. 72. fig. 5.

Dusky Duck, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 392.

Adult Male. Plate CCCII, Fig. 1.

Bill about the length of the head, higher than broad at the base, depressed and widened towards the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line sloping and a little concave, the ridge at the base broad and flat, towards the end broadly convex, as are the sides, the edges soft and thin, the marginal lamellæ about forty on each side; the unguis obovate, curved, abrupt at the end. Nasal groove elliptical, sub-basal, filled by the soft membrane of the bill; nostrils sub-basal, placed near the ridge, longitudinal, elliptical, pervious. Lower mandible slightly curved upwards, flattened, with the angle very long, narrow, and rather pointed, the lamellæ about sixty.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed; neck rather long and slender; body full, depressed. Feet short, stout, placed a little behind the centre of the body; legs bare a little above the joint; tarsus short, a little compressed, anteriorly with small scutella, externally of which is a series continuous with those of the outer toe, laterally and behind with reticulated angular scales. Hind toe extremely small, with a very narrow membrane; third toe longest, fourth a little shorter, but longer than the second; the scutella of the second and third oblique, of the outer transverse; the three anterior toes connected by reticulated membranes, the outer with a thick margin, the inner with the margin extended into a slightly lobed web. Claws small, arched, compressed, rather obtuse, that of the middle toe much larger, with a dilated, thin edge.

Plumage dense, soft, and elastic; on the head and neck the feathers linear-oblong, on the other parts in general broad and rounded. Wings of moderate breadth and length, acute; primaries narrow and tapering, the second longest, the first very little shorter; secondaries broad, curved inwards, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail short, much rounded, of eighteen acute feathers, none of which are reserved.

Bill yellowish-green, the unguis dusky. Iris dark brown. Feet orange-red, the webs dusky. The upper part of the head is glossy brownish-black, the feathers margined with light brown; the sides of the head and a band over the eye are light greyish-brown, with longitudinal dusky streaks; the middle of the neck is similar, but more dusky. The general colour is blackish-brown, a little paler beneath, all the feathers margined with pale reddish-brown. The wing-coverts are greyish-dusky, with a faint tinge of green; the ends of the secondary coverts velvet-black. Primaries and their coverts blackish-brown, with the shafts brown; secondaries darker; the speculum is green, blue, violet, or amethyst purple, according to the light in which it is viewed, bounded by velvet-black, the feathers also tipped with a narrow line of white. The whole under surface of the wing, and the axillaries, white.

Length to end of tail 24 1/2 inches, to end of claws 26; extent of wings 38 1/2; bill 2 4/12 along the back; wing from flexure 11 1/2; tail 4 4/12; tarsus 1 6 1/2 /12; middle toe 2 3/12, its claw 4/12; first toe 5/12, its claw 2/12. Weight 3 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCCII. Fig. 2.

The female, which is somewhat smaller, resembles the male in colour, but is more brown, and has the speculum of the same tints, but without the white terminal line.

Length to end of tail 22 inches, to end of wings 21 1/4, to end of claws 22; wing from flexure 10 1/2; extent of wings 34 1/4; tarsus 2, middle toe and claw 2 1/2; hind toe and claw 5/12.

In this species, the number of feathers in the tail is eighteen, although it has been represented as sixteen. In form and proportions the Dusky Duck is very closely allied to the Mallard. The following account of the digestive and respiratory organs is obtained from the examination of an adult male.

On the upper mandible are 43 lamellæ; on the lower, 85 in the upper, and 56 in the lower series. The tongue is 1 1/12 inch long, with the sides parallel and furnished with a double row of filaments, numerous small conical papillæ at the base, a median groove on the upper surface, and a thin rounded appendage, a twelfth and a half in length at the tip. The aperture of the glottis is 7 1/2/12 long, with very numerous minute papillæ behind. The œsophagus 12 inches long, of a uniform diameter of 4/12, until near the lower part of the neck, where it enlarges to 8/12, again contracts as it enters the thorax, ending in the proventriculus, which is 1 1/4 long, with numerous oblong glandules, about a twelfth in length. Gizzard obliquely elliptical, 2 1/4 inches across, 1 8/12 in length, its lateral muscles extremely large, the left 10/12 in thickness, the right 9/12; their tendons large and strong; the lower muscle moderately thick; the cuticular lining firm and rugous, the grinding surfaces nearly smooth. The intestine, which is 5 feet 7 1/2 inches long, is slender and nearly uniform in diameter, measuring 4/12 across in the duodenal portion, 3/12 in the rest of its extent; the rectum 3 1/2 inches long, dilated into a globular cloaca 1 inch in length, and of nearly the same diameter. The cæca are 6 1/4 long, 1 1/2/12 in diameter for 2 inches of their length, enlarged to 3/12 in the rest of their extent, and terminating in an obtuse extremity.

The trachea, moderately extended, is 10 inches long. Its lateral or contractor muscles are strong, and it is furnished with a pair of cleido-tracheals, and a pair of sterno-tracheals. The number of rings is 136, besides 12 united rings forming a large inferior larynx, which has a transversely oblong bony expansion, forming on the left side a bulging and rounded sac. There are 28 bronchial half rings on the right side, 26 on the left.

BARTRAMIAN SANDPIPER.

Totanus Bartramius, Temm.
PLATE CCCIII. Male and Female.

The Bartramian Sandpiper is the most truly terrestrial of its tribe with which I am acquainted. It is even more inclined, at all seasons, to keep away from the water, than the Kildeer Plover, which may often be seen wading in shallow pools, or searching along the sandy or muddy margins of the shores of the sea, or of fresh-water lakes and streams. Although not unfrequently met with in the vicinity of such places, it never ventures to wade into them; and yet the form and length of its legs and feet would naturally induce a person not acquainted with its habits to consider it as a wading bird.

The dry upland plains of those sections of Louisiana called Opellousas and Attacapas, are amply peopled with this species in early spring, as well as in autumn. They arrive there from the vast prairies of Texas and Mexico, where they spend the winter, in the beginning of March, or about the period of the first appearance of the Martins, Hirundo purpurea, and return about the first of August. They are equally abundant on all the western prairies on either side of the Missouri, where, however, they arrive about a month later than in Louisiana, whence they disperse over the United States, reaching the middle districts early in May, and the State of Maine by the middle of that month, or about the same period at which they are seen in Indiana, Kentucky, and Ohio. Some proceed as far north as the plains adjoining the Saskatchewan River, where Dr Richardson met with this species in the month of May.

It has been supposed that the Bartramian Sandpiper never forms large flocks, but this is not correct, for in the neighbourhood of New Orleans, where it is called the “Papabote,” it usually arrives in great bands in spring, and is met with on the open plains and large grassy savannahs, where it generally remains about two weeks, though sometimes individuals may be seen as late as the 15th of May. I have observed the same circumstances on our western prairies, but have thought that they were afterwards obliged to separate into small flocks, or even into pairs, as soon as they are ready to seek proper places for breeding in, for I have seldom found more than two pairs with nests or young in the same field or piece of ground. On their first arrival, they are generally thin, but on their return southward, in the beginning of August, when they tarry in Louisiana until the first of October, they are fat and juicy. I have observed, that in spring, when they are poor, they are usually much less shy than in autumn, when they are exceedingly wary and difficult of approach; but this general observation is not without exceptions, and the difference, I think, depends on the nature of the localities in which they happen to be found at either period. When on newly ploughed fields, which they are fond of frequenting, they see a person at a greater distance than when they are searching for food among the slender grasses of the plains. I have also thought that the size of the flocks may depend upon similar contingencies, for this bird is by no means fond of the society of man.

Like the Spotted Sandpiper, Totanus macularius, they not unfrequently alight on fences, trees, and out-houses; but whether in such situations or on the ground, they seldom settle without raising both wings upright to their full extent, and uttering their loud and prolonged, but pleasing notes. They run with great activity, stop suddenly, and vibrate their body once or twice. When earnestly followed by the sportsman, they lower their heads in the manner of Wilson’s Plover, and the species called the Piping, and run off rapidly, or squat, according to the urgency of the occasion. At other times, they partially extend their wings, run a few steps as if about to fly, and then cunningly move off sideways, and conceal themselves among the grass, or behind a clod. You are not unfrequently rendered aware of your being within sight of them, by unexpectedly hearing their plaintive and mellow notes, a circumstance, however, which I always concluded to be indicative of the wariness of their disposition, for although you have just heard those well-known cries, yet, on searching for the bird, you nowhere see it, for the cunning creature has slipped away and hid itself. When wounded in the wing, they run to a great distance, and are rarely found.

Like all experienced travellers, they appear to accommodate themselves to circumstances as regards their food, for in Louisiana, they feed on cantharides and other coleopterous insects; in Massachusetts on grasshoppers, on which my friend Nuttall says, they soon grow very fat; in the Carolinas on crickets and other insects, as well as the seeds of the crab-grass, Digitaria sanguinaria; and in the barrens of Kentucky they often pick the strawberries. Those which feed much on cantharides, require to be very carefully cleaned, otherwise persons eating them are liable to suffer severely. Several gentlemen of New Orleans have assured me, that they have seen persons at dinner obliged to leave the room at once, under such circumstances, which cannot well be described here. When flavoured with the ripe strawberries, on which they have fed, their flesh is truly delicious.

This species performs its migrations by night as well as by day. Its flight is rather swift and well sustained. While travelling, it generally flies so high as to be beyond reach of the gun: but if the weather be cloudy, or if it blow hard, it flies lower, and may easily be shot. It generally proceeds in straggling bands, and moves along with continuous easy beats of the wings, but sails, as it were, when about to alight, as well as during the love season.

As long ago as 1805 and 1806, I observed this species breeding in the meadows and green-fields of my plantation of Millgrove, near the banks of Perkioming Creek. Since then, I have known of its rearing broods in different parts of Pennsylvania, in the State of New York, and in various districts to the eastward as far as the confines of Maine; but I did not find it in Newfoundland or Labrador; and I have reason to believe that it does not breed to the south of Maryland.

My friend, the Rev. Dr Bachman, has informed me that the Bartramian Sandpiper makes its appearance in South Carolina about the 15th of July, the hottest period of the year, in considerable numbers, betakes itself at once to the high grassy lands, and there remains about a month. He considers it to be then on its return from the north, and states that it is very fat and affords delicious food. His manner of shooting them is, to ride in a chair or gig over the fields which they frequent, or along the roads in their neighbourhood, by which means they can be approached near enough to enable the sportsman to shoot with almost a certainty of success, as the bird rises out of the grass. If one attempts to get near them on foot, they rise at too great a distance, then sweep in circles over the spot, and alight a considerable way off. They are seldom met with there in flocks of more than four or five individuals.

I have found the eggs of this bird laid on the bare earth, in a hollow scooped out to the depth of about an inch and a half, near the roots of a tuft of rank grass, in the middle of a meadow, and seen some nests of the same species formed of loosely arranged grasses, and placed almost beneath low bushes growing on poor elevated ridges, furnished with a scanty vegetation. I have also heard my esteemed young friend, John Trudeau, state that he had discovered one on a high part of the bank of the Delaware River. When disturbed while on its nest, but unobserved, it runs thirty or forty yards, and then flies off as if severely wounded. Should it have young, its attempts to decoy you away are quite enough to induce you to desist from harassing it. The eggs measure an inch and five and a half eighths, by an inch and a quarter in their greatest breadth. In form they resemble those of Totanus macularius, being broadly rounded at one end, and rather pointed at the other; their surface smooth; their ground colour dull greyish-yellow, with numerous spots of light purple and reddish-brown. They are placed in the nest in the same manner as those of the Spotted Sandpiper, that is, with the smaller ends together, which is also the case with those of the Tell-tale Godwit, Wilson’s Plover, and the Kildeer Plover. The young, which run about immediately after exclusion, grow rapidly, and in about a month are able to use their wings, after which, they and their parents gradually, and according to the temperature of the season, move southward.

In Massachusetts, and to the eastward of that state, this species is best known by the name of “Upland Plover,” and in some other districts it is named the Field Plover. The drawing from which the plate was engraved was taken from individuals shot near Bayou Sara, in the State of Mississippi.

Totanus Bartramius, Ch. Bonap., Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p. 262.

Tringa Bartramia, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 63. pl. 59. fig. 2.

Bartramian Tatler, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 169.

Totanus Bartramius, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 391.

Adult Male. Plate CCCIII. Fig. 1.

Bill a little longer than the head, slender, straight, slightly defected at the end. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight, the ridge convex, the sides grooved beyond the middle, afterwards convex, the edges inflected, the tips a little deflected, and tapering to an obtuse point. Nostrils sub-basal, lateral, linear, pervious, nearer the edge than the dorsal line. Lower mandible, with the angle very narrow and elongated, beyond it the outline slightly convex, the sides sloping outwards and concave until the middle, afterwards flattened, the edges sharp, the point very narrow.

Head rather small, convex above, compressed. Neck of moderate length, slender. Body rather slender. Feet long and slender; tibia bare for about half its length, scutellate before and behind; tarsus long, slender, having before and behind numerous scutella, the narrow lateral spaces with very small oblong scales. Toes slender, the first very short, the second much shorter than the fourth, the third and fourth connected at the base by a web; the scutella numerous; claws small, compressed, slightly arched, rather blunt.

Plumage soft, on the neck and lower parts, blended; on the upper rather distinct. Wings rather long, acute, narrow; primaries tapering, and rounded, the first longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries obliquely rounded, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail of moderate length, much rounded, of twelve rather narrow feathers.

Bill yellowish-green, the tip dusky, the edges towards the base yellow. Iris dark hazel. Legs and tarsi light yellowish-grey, toes rather darker, claws brownish-black. Upper part of the head dark brown, with a median pale yellowish-brown line, the margins of the feathers also of that colour, which prevails along the sides of the head and the back of the neck, which are streaked with dusky; the eye surrounded with yellowish-white. Throat yellowish white, without spots; fore-part and sides of the neck, with a portion of the breast and sides of the body, cream-coloured, with dusky lines, which gradually become arrow-shaped on the breast, forming a double transverse band; the feathers on the sides barred; the rest of the lower parts yellowish-white, the lower tail-coverts rich cream-coloured. Axillar feathers and lower wing-coverts white, banded with brownish-black. On the upper parts the feathers are dark brown, glossed with green, with rich cream-coloured margins; the rump darker. On the margins of the scapulars, within the pale edge, is a series of dusky spots, which towards the end become continuous. Alula, primary coverts, and primary quills, blackish-brown, the inner webs crossed by white bands, until about an inch from the end, the shaft of the first quill white, those of the rest dusky. Secondaries greyish-brown, their outer margins pale brown, with dusky spots; the inner darker. The two middle feathers of the tail are dark olive, tinged with grey, transversely barred with black, the last bar arrow-shaped, the margins light cream-colour: the next feather on each side lighter, and tinged with yellowish-red; the rest gradually lighter, the outer white, all barred with black.

Length to end of tail 12 1/2 inches, to end of wings 11 1/8, to end of claws 13 1/2; extent of wings 22; wing from flexure 7; tail 3 3/4; bare part of tibia 9/10; tarsus 1 1 1/2/12, first toe 4/12, its claw 1 1/2/12; middle-toe 1, its claw 2 1/4/12; bill along the ridge 1 2/12; along the edge of lower mandible 1 3/12. Weight 6 oz.

Female. Plate CCCIII. Fig. 2.

The female is a little larger, and weighs 7 oz., but resembles the male in colour. The individual of which the weight is here given was very fat, but I have never met with any that weighed three-fourths of a pound, as described by Wilson!

Length to end of tail 13 inches, to end of claws 14, extent of wings 22 3/4.

In an adult bird of this species, the tongue measures seven-twelfths of an inch in length, and is sagittate at the base, with conical papillæ, of which the outermost is much larger, then contracted, being deeper than broad, and tapering to a very acute compressed point. Aperture of the glottis 2/12 long, with numerous papillæ behind, the middle two largest. The œsophagus is 5 1/4 inches long, of uniform diameter, measuring about 3/12 across, and passing along the right side of the neck, along with the trachea. Proventriculus oblong, 8/12 in diameter, its glandules extremely numerous, oblong, half a twelfth in length. The stomach is a strong gizzard of an oblong form; an inch and a twelfth long, nine-twelfths in breadth, its lateral muscles of moderate thickness, the right 2 1/2/12, the left 5 1/2/12, the central tendons oblong, 5/12 in diameter. The cuticular lining is tough, of moderate thickness, longitudinally rugous, the grinding plates scarcely thicker than the rest. The intestine is 18 inches long, its diameter generally 3 1/2/12. The rectum 2 1/4 inches long; the cæca 2 2/12, very slender, their greatest diameter being only 1 1/2/12; the cloaca globular, about 1/2 inch in diameter. The stomach was filled with remains of grasshoppers, of a deep red colour, with which the inner coat was tinged, together with the head of a Libellula. No gravel or other hard substances.

The trachea moderately extended is 3 10/12 inches long, its transverse diameter 2 1/2/12, diminishing to 1 1/2/12. The rings are unossified and extremely thin, 105 in number; the contractor or lateral muscles feeble; the inferior larynx simple, with a single pair of tracheali-bronchiales, and the usual sterno-tracheales; the bronchi of about 15 half-rings.

This individual presented a very remarkable accumulation of fat over the abdominal and pectoral muscles, and especially about the furcula.

TURNSTONE.

Strepsilas Interpres, Illiger.
PLATE CCCIV. Adult in Summer and Winter.

This bird, which, in its full vernal dress, is one of the most beautiful of its family, is found along the southern coasts of the United States during winter, from North Carolina to the mouth of the Sabine River, in considerable numbers, although perhaps as many travel at that season into Texas and Mexico, where I observed it on its journey eastward, from the beginning of April to the end of May 1837. I procured many specimens in the course of my rambles along the shores of the Florida Keys, and in the neighbourhood of St Augustine, and have met with it in May and June, as well as in September and October, in almost every part of our maritime shores, from Maine to Maryland. On the coast of Labrador I looked for it in vain, although Dr Richardson mentions their arrival at their breeding quarters on the shores of Hudson’s Bay and the Arctic Sea up to the seventy-fifth parallel.

In spring the Turnstone is rarely met with in flocks exceeding five or six individuals, but often associates with other species, such as the Knot, the Red-backed Sandpiper, and the Tringa subarquata. Towards the end of autumn, however, they collect into large flocks, and so continue during the winter. I have never seen it on the margins of rivers or lakes, but always on the shores of the sea, although it prefers those of the extensive inlets so numerous on our coasts. At times it rambles to considerable distances from the beach, for I have found it on rocky islands thirty miles from the mainland; and on two occasions, whilst crossing the Atlantic, I saw several flocks near the Great Banks flying swiftly, and rather close to the water around the ships, after which they shot off toward the south-west, and in a few minutes were out of sight. It seems to be a hardy bird, for some of them remain in our Eastern Districts until severe frost prevails. Having seen some, in the beginning of June, and in superb plumage, on the high grounds of the Island of Grand Mannan, in the Bay of Fundy, I supposed that they bred there, although none of my party succeeded in discovering their nests. Indeed the young, as I have been informed, are obtained there, and along the coast of Maine, in the latter part of July.

I have found this bird much more shy when in company with other species than when in flocks by itself, when it appears to suspect no danger from man. Many instances of this seeming inattention have occurred to me, among others the following:—When I was on the island of Galveston in Texas, my friend Edward Harris, my son, and some others of our party, had shot four deer, which the sailors had brought to our little camp near the shore. Feeling myself rather fatigued, I did not return to the bushes with the rest, who went in search of more venison for our numerous crew, but proposed, with the assistance of one of the sailors, to skin the deer. After each animal was stripped of its hide, and deprived of its head and feet, which were thrown away, the sailor and I took it to the water and washed it. To my surprise, I observed four Turnstones directly in our way to the water. They merely ran to a little distance out of our course, and on our returning, came back immediately to the same place; this they did four different times, and, after we were done, they remained busily engaged in searching for food. None of them was more than fifteen or twenty yards distant, and I was delighted to see the ingenuity with which they turned over the oyster-shells, clods of mud, and other small bodies left exposed by the retiring tide. Whenever the object was not too large, the bird bent its legs to half their length, placed its bill beneath it, and with a sudden quick jerk of the head pushed it off, when it quickly picked up the food which was thus exposed to view, and walked deliberately to the next shell to perform the same operation. In several instances, when the clusters of oyster-shells or clods of mud were too heavy to be removed in the ordinary way, they would use not only the bill and head, but also the breast, pushing the object with all their strength, and reminding me of the labour which I have undergone in turning over a large turtle. Among the sea-weeds that had been cast on the shore, they used only the bill, tossing the garbage from side to side, with a dexterity extremely pleasant to behold. In this manner, I saw these four Turnstones examine almost every part of the shore along a space of from thirty to forty yards; after which I drove them away, that our hunters might not kill them on their return.

On another occasion, when in company with Mr Harris, and on the same island I witnessed the same pleasing proceeding, several Turnstones being engaged in searching for food in precisely the same manner. At other times, and especially when in the neighbourhood of St Augustine, in East Florida, I used to amuse myself with watching these birds on the racoon-oyster banks, using my glass for the purpose. I observed that they would search for such oysters as had been killed by the heat of the sun, and pick out their flesh precisely in the manner of our Common Oyster-catcher, Hæmatopus palliatus, while they would strike at such small bivalves as had thin shells, and break them, as I afterwards ascertained, by walking to the spot. While on the Florida coast, near Cape Sable, I shot one in the month of May, that had its stomach filled with those beautiful shells, which, on account of their resemblance to grains of rice, are commonly named rice-shells.

I have always looked upon the Turnstone, while at its avocations, as a species very nearly allied to the Oyster-catcher; and, although it certainly differs in some particulars, were I to place it in a position determined by its affinities, I should remove it at once from the Tringa family. Its mode of searching for food around pebbles and other objects, the comparative strength of its legs, its retiring disposition, and its loud whistling notes while on wing, will, I think, prove at some period that what I have ventured to advance may be in accordance with the only true system, by which I mean Nature’s own system, could one be so fortunate as to understand it.

While this species remains in the United States, although its residence is protracted to many months, very few individuals are met with in as complete plumage as the one represented in my plate with the wings fully extended; for out of a vast number of specimens procured from the beginning of March to the end of May, or from August to May, I have scarcely found two to correspond precisely in their markings. For this reason, no doubt exists in my mind that this species, as well as the Knot and several others, loses its rich summer plumage soon after the breeding season, when the oldest become scarcely distinguishable from the young. In the spring months, however, I have observed that they gradually improve in beauty, and acquire full-coloured feathers in patches on the upper and lower surfaces of the body, in the same manner as the Knot, the Red-breasted Snipe, the Godwits, and several other species. According to Mr Hewitson, the eggs are four in number, rather suddenly pointed towards the smaller end, generally an inch and four and a half eighths in length, an inch and one and a half eighths in their greatest breadth, their ground colour pale yellowish-green, marked with irregular patches and streaks of brownish-red, and a few lines of black.

My drawing of the Turnstones represented in the plate was made at Philadelphia, in the end of May 1824; and the beautiful specimen exhibited in the act of flying, I procured near Camden, while in the agreeable company of my talented friend Le Sueur, who, alas! is now no more.

I have not observed any remarkable difference in the plumage of the sexes at any season of the year. The males I have generally found to be somewhat larger than the females, which, as is well known, is not the case in the Tringa family.

My worthy friend, Dr Bachman, once had a bird of this species alive. It had recovered from a slight wound in the wing, when he presented it to a lady, a friend of his and mine, who, fed it on boiled rice, and bread soaked in milk, of both of which it was very fond. It continued in a state of captivity upwards of a year, but was at last killed by accident. It had become perfectly gentle, would eat from the hand of its kind mistress, frequently bathed in a basin placed near it for the purpose, and never attempted to escape, although left quite at liberty to do so.

Tringa interpres, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol i. p. 248.—Lath. Ind. Orn. vol. ii. p. 738.

Tringa morinella, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 249.

Turnstone, Tringa interpres, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 32. pl. 57. fig 1.

Strepsilas collaris, Temm. Man. d’Ornith, part ii. p. 553.

Strepsilas Interpres, Ch. Bonap. Synopsis of Birds of the United States, 299.

Turnstone or Sea-dotterel, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 30.

Adult Male in Summer. Plate CCCIV. Fig. 1.

Bill a little shorter than the head, rather stout, compressed, tapering, straightish, being recurvate in a slight degree. Upper mandible with the dorsal line very slightly concave, the nasal groove extending to the middle, the sides beyond it sloping, the tip depressed and blunted. Nostrils sub-basal linear-oblong, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle short, the dorsal line ascending and slightly convex, the sides convex, the edges sharp, the tip depressed and blunted.

Head small, ovate; eyes of moderate size. Neck of ordinary length. Body rather full. Feet of moderate length, stout; tibia bare at the lower part, and covered with reticulated scales; tarsus roundish, with numerous broad anterior scutella; toes four, the first very small, and placed higher than the rest; the anterior toes free to the base, distinctly margined on both edges, the inner toe a little shorter than the outer, the third or middle toe considerably longer; claws rather small, arcuate, compressed, blunted.

Plumage full, soft, rather dense, and glossy; feathers on the hind neck blended, and rather narrow, on the other parts ovate. Wings long, pointed, of moderate breadth: primaries with strong shafts, rather broad, narrowed towards the end, the first longest, the rest rapidly decreasing; outer secondaries incurved, obliquely rounded; inner elongated, one of them extending to half an inch of the tip of the longest primary, when the wing is closed. Tail rather short, slightly rounded, of twelve moderately broad, rounded feathers.

Bill black. Iris hazel. Feet deep orange red, claws black. Plumage variegated with white, black, brown, and red. Upper parts of the head and nape streaked with black and reddish-white; a broad band of white crosses the forehead, passes over the eyes, and down the sides of the neck, the hind-part of which is reddish-white faintly mottled with dusky; a frontal band of black curves downwards before the eye, enclosing a white patch on the lore, and meeting another black band glossed with blue, which proceeds down the neck, from the base of the lower mandible, enlarging behind the ear, covering the whole anterior part of the neck, and passing along the shoulder over the scapulars; the throat, hind part of the back, the outer scapulars, upper tail-coverts, and the under parts of the body and wings, white. Anterior smaller wing-coverts dusky, the rest bright chestnut or brownish-orange, as are the outer webs of the inner tertiaries; alula, primary coverts, outer secondary coverts and quills blackish-brown, their inner webs becoming white towards the base; a broad band of white extends across the wing, including the bases of the primary quills, excepting the outer four, and the ends of the secondary coverts; the shafts of the primaries white. Tail white, with a broad blackish-brown bar towards the end, broader in the middle, the tips white. A dusky band crosses the rump.

Length to end of tail 9 inches, to end of wings 8 3/8, to end of claws 10; extent of wings 18 3/8; along the ridge 9 1/2/12, along the edge of lower mandible 11/12; wing from flexure 6 1/12; tail 2 4/12; tarsus 11/12; hind toe 2 1/2/12, its claw 2/12; middle toe 10/12, its claw 3 1/2/12. Average weight of three specimens 3 2/3 oz.

Male in winter. Plate CCCIV. Fig. 2.

In winter, the throat, lower parts, middle of the back, upper tail-coverts, and band across the wing, are white, as in summer; the tail, and quills, are also similarly coloured, but the inner secondaries are destitute of red, of which there are no traces on the upper parts, they being of a dark greyish-brown colour, the feathers tipped or margined with paler; the outer edges of the outer scapulars, and some of the smaller wing-coverts, white; on the sides and fore part of the neck the feathers blackish, with white shafts.

Individuals vary much according to age and sex, as well in size as in colour, scarcely two in summer plumage being found exactly similar.

In a male bird, the tongue is 6 1/2/12 of an inch in length, sagittate and papillate at the base, concave above, narrow, and tapering to the point. The œsophagus is 4 1/4 inches long, inclines to the right, is rather narrow, and uniform, its diameter 4 1/2/12. Proventriculus oblong, 8/12 in length, 5/12 in breadth, its glandules cylindrical. Stomach oblong, 11/12 in length, its cuticular lining very tough and hard, with broad longitudinal rugæ, its lateral muscles moderately large. Intestine 17 1/2 inches long, slender, varying in diameter from 2 1/2/12 to 1 1/2/12; rectum 1 1/2; cæca 1 8/12, 11/12 in diameter at the commencement, 2/12 toward the end; cloaca globular.

The trachea is 3 1/4 inches long, 2 1/2/12 in breadth, contracts to 1/12; its lateral muscles very thin; sterno-tracheal slender, a pair of tracheali-bronchial muscles. The rings are very thin and unossified, 104 in number. Bronchi of moderate length, with about 15 half rings.

In a female, the œsophagus is 4 1/4 inches long, the intestine 18. In both individuals, the stomach contained fragments of shells, and claws of very small crabs: which were also found in the intestine, although there more comminuted.

PURPLE GALLINULE.

Gallinula martinica, Lath.
PLATE CCCV. Male.

Reader, although you may think it strange, I candidly assure you that I have experienced a thousand times more pleasure while looking at the Purple Gallinule flirting its tail while gaily moving over the broad leaves of the water-lily, than I have ever done while silently sitting in the corner of a crowded apartment, gazing on the flutterings of gaudy fans and the wavings of flowing plumes. Would that I were once more extended on some green grassy couch, in my native Louisiana, or that I lay concealed under some beautiful tree, overhanging the dark bayou, on whose waters the bird of beauty is wont to display its graceful movements, and the rich hues of its glossy plumage! Methinks I now see the charming creature gliding sylph-like over the leaves that cover the lake, with the aid of her lengthened toes, so admirably adapted for the purpose, and seeking the mate, who, devotedly attached as he is, has absented himself, perhaps in search of some secluded spot in which to place their nest. Now he comes, gracefully dividing the waters of the tranquil pool, his frontal crest glowing with the brightest azure. Look at his wings, how elegantly they are spread and obliquely raised; see how his expanded tail strikes the water; and mark the movements of his head, which is alternately thrown backward and forward, as if he were congratulating his mate on their happy meeting. Now both birds walk along clinging to the stems and blades, their voices clearly disclosing their mutual feelings of delight, and they retire to some concealed place on the nearest shore, where we lose sight of them for a time.

Now, side by side, they look for the most secure spot among the tall rushes that border the lake, and there they will soon form a nest, removed alike from danger to be dreaded from the inhabitants of the land as of the water. On the thick mass of withered leaves are deposited the precious eggs, from which in time emerge the dusky younglings, that presently betake themselves to the water, over which they wander, guided by their affectionate parent, until it becomes expedient for the party to disperse.

The Purple Gallinule is a constant resident in the United States, although peculiar to their southern districts, where I have met with it at all seasons. It is in the Floridas, the lower parts of Alabama, and among the broad marshes bordering the Gulf of Mexico, in Lower Louisiana, that I have observed its habits. Beyond the Carolinas eastward, it is only met with as an accidental straggler. It never, I believe, ascends the Mississippi beyond Memphis, where indeed it is but rarely seen; but between Natchez and the mouths of the great river, it is abundant on all the retired bayous and small lakes. The southern portions of Georgia are also furnished with it; but in South Carolina it is rare. Proceeding southwestward along the Gulf of Mexico, I have found it as far as Texas, where it breeds, as well as in Louisiana, where I observed it coming from the south in May 1837.

Having studied the habits of this bird under every advantage in Louisiana, and especially in the neighbourhood of New Orleans, and the mouths of the Mississippi, I will now, good Reader, place before you the results of my observation. In the summer months, the Purple Gallinules remove with their broods to the prairies or large savannahs bordering the bayous or lakes on which they have bred, and remain in those places, which are generally covered with thick and tall grass, until the beginning of September, when the vegetation having been dried up by the intense heat and drought, neither food nor sufficient concealment can be obtained. The young birds usually abandon these plains first, and while the colour of their plumage is still green, instead of purplish-blue, which tint, however, is assumed before the return of spring. During all this while, its notes are as frequently heard as during the breeding season. They resemble the delicate whistling sounds of the Blue-winged Teal during its residence with us. At this season also its flesh is best, although it never equals that of the Freshwater Marsh-hen, Rallus elegans, or of the Sora Rail, Rallus carolinus.

On the approach of winter, all the Purple Gallinules leave the savannahs, and betake themselves to the immediate vicinity of ponds, bayous, or rivers, where through experience they become shy, vigilant, and cunning. They seldom remove from one place to another, or travel at all, unless by night, although in sequestered parts they feed both on land and on the water by day.

The Purple Gallinule breeds at a remarkably early period of the year. I have found young birds in their jetty down clothing in February, and they have been observed in the same month by the keepers of the lighthouse at the south-west Pass of the Mississippi, at Key West, and in other places. The parent birds are sometimes so very intent on saving their young, as to suffer themselves to be caught. At this period their calls are almost incessantly heard during the whole night, and are elicited during the day by any musical or remarkable noise. The nest is generally placed among a kind of rushes that are green at all seasons, round, very pithy, rarely more than five feet high, and grow more along the margins of ponds than in the water itself. The birds gather many of them, and fasten them at the height of two or three feet, and there the nest is placed. It is composed of the most delicate rushes, whether green or withered, and is quite as substantial as that of the Common Gallinule, flattish, having an internal diameter of eight or ten inches, while the entire breadth is about fifteen. The eggs, which are from five to seven, rarely more, are very similar to those of the Common Gallinule, being of a light greyish-yellow, spotted with blackish-brown. The young are at first quite black, and covered with down. They are fully fledged by the first of June, when, as I have said, they and their parents remove to the wet savannahs in the neighbourhood.

The jerking motions of the tail of this bird, whenever it is disturbed, or attracted by any remarkable object, are very quick, and so often repeated as to have a curious appearance. It runs with great speed, and dives with equal address, often moving off under water with nothing but the bill above. The lightness and ease with which it walks on the floating plants are surprising, for in proceeding they scarcely produce any perceptible disturbance of the water. When swimming in full security, they move buoyantly and gracefully, throwing the head forward at every propelling motion of the feet. The flight of this species is less swift than that of the Common Gallinule, or of the Rails, unless when it is travelling far, when it flies high, and advances in a direct course by continued flappings; but when it is in its breeding or feeding grounds, its flight is slow and short, seldom exceeding thirty or forty yards, and with the legs hanging down; and it alights among the herbage with its wings spread upwards in the manner of the Rails. It often alights on the low branches of trees and bushes growing over the water, and walks lightly and gracefully over them.

It is seldom that more than one Purple Gallinule is shot at a time, unless in the beginning of the love season, when the male and female are apt to swim or walk close together. The male at this period is said to be able to inflate the frontal plate while strutting, but I have never been fortunate enough to observe this.

The Purple Gallinule not unfrequently alights on ships at sea. While at the Island of Galveston, on the 26th of April, I was offered several live individuals by the officers of the Boston frigate, which they had caught on board. My friend John Bachman once received three specimens that had been caught three hundred miles from land, one of them having come through the cabin window. He also obtained from the Hon. Mr Poinset a fine specimen caught on board, on the Santee River, in South Carolina, in May. It is easily kept alive if fed with bread soaked in milk; and on this food I have known several that remained in good health for years. In Louisiana, where it is called Rale Bleu, its flesh is not held in much estimation, but is used by the negroes for making gombo.

My friend Bachman considers this species as rather scarce in South Carolina and Georgia, but states that it breeds there, as he has occasionally observed pairs on the head waters or preserves of rice plantations during summer, but never met with any in winter. The extreme limit of its range eastward is the neighbourhood of Boston, where a few individuals have been procured.

I think I may safely tell you that the figure of the Purple Gallinule exhibited in the plate, is the first ever published from a drawing taken from Nature!

Fulica martinica, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 259.

Gallinula martinica, Lath. Ind Ornith. p. 769.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synops. p. 336.

Gallinula porphyrio, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ix. p. 67. pl. 73. fig. 2.

Purple Gallinule, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 221.

Adult Male in Spring. Plate CCCV.

Bill as long as the head, nearly straight, stout, deep, compressed, tapering. Upper mandible with a soft ovate plate at the base extending over a great part of the head, the dorsal line beyond this plate straightish and slightly declinate as far as the middle, then arcuato-declinate, the ridge gradually narrowed until over the nostrils, afterwards considerably widened, the sides nearly erect, the edges sharp, the notch obsolete. Nasal groove extending nearly to the middle of the bill, broad; nostrils sub-medial, lateral, oblong, direct, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle rather long and narrow, the sides nearly erect and slightly concave, the dorsal line beyond the angle ascending, straight, the edges sharp and direct, the tip narrowed, rather sharp.

Head small, oblong, compressed. Eyes of moderate size. Body much compressed. Feet large, long; tibia bare a considerable way above the joint, and reticulated; tarsus long, stout, compressed, anteriorly covered with very broad scutella, laterally and posteriorly with two series of broad scutella, between which on the posterior edge is a series of very minute scales; hind toe comparatively small, middle toe longest, and much longer than the tarsus, fourth longer than second; toes free, slender, compressed, with numerous broad scutella above, obliquely flattened beneath, marginate; claws very long, slender, slightly arched, much compressed, tapering to a very acute point.

Plumage blended, firm, glossy, the feathers ovato-oblong, broad at the end. Wings rather long, broad, rather concave; ovula large: primaries incurvate, broad, third longest, second a twelfth of an inch shorter, fourth two-twelfths shorter than second, which exceeds the first by eleven-twelfths; secondaries broad and grounded. Tail short, much rounded, of twelve rather weak, rounded feathers, which but slightly exceed the lower coverts.

Frontal plate ultramarine blue; bill bright carmine, tipped with bright yellow. Iris bright carmine; margins of eyelids white. Tarsi, toes, and claws bright yellow. Head, fore part of neck, and breast rich purplish-blue; abdomen and feathers of legs dusky; sides green; lower wing-coverts light green; sides of the neck light purplish-blue, shaded into verdigris and brownish-green above; the fore part of the back verdigris-green, shaded with olivaceous; the hind part and upper tail-coverts olivaceous; the coverts and outer webs of the quills greenish-blue, the inner webs clove-brown; tail-feathers olivaceous.

Length to end of tail 13 1/2 inches, to end of wings 13 1/2, to end of claws 18; extent of wings 21 1/2; bill along the ridge, including frontal plate 2; edge of lower mandible 1 1/4; tarsus 2 1/4; hind toe 1, its claw 10/12; middle toe 2 4/12, its claw 9/12.

Weight of one individual 7 1/2 oz., of another 8 1/2, both males; of a fourth 7 oz.; of a fifth 5 1/2; and of a sixth only 4 1/2.

The female is somewhat smaller, but similar to the male, the frontal plate is less extended, and the tints of the plumage a little less vivid.

The young are at first covered with black down. When fledged they are olivaceous on the upper parts, dull purple beneath; the bill dull green. After the first moult, the bill is light carmine, greenish-yellow at the end, the head dark purple; the plumage coloured as above described, but less brilliant, the tarsi and toes greenish-yellow.

In a male bird, the tongue is 10 twelfths of an inch long, sagittate at the base, with conical papillæ, of which the outer are larger, slightly concave above, horny towards the end, which is thin, rather obtuse, and lacerated. On the middle line of the roof of the mouth anteriorly is a row of large blunt papillæ, behind which are two rows; aperture of posterior nares linear. Œsophagus 7 inches long, of moderate width, its greatest diameter, at the lower part of the neck, where it is a little dilated, 8 twelfths. Proventriculus 1 2/12 long; its glandules 1 1/4/12 long. Stomach a large and powerful gizzard, broadly elliptical, 1 1/2 inch long, 1 5/12 broad, its lateral muscles large, the tendons covering nearly their whole surface, the left muscles 1/4 inch think, the right 5/12, the cuticular lining moderately rugous. Intestine 21 inches long, from 5/12 to 3/12 in diameter. Rectum 2 3/4 inches; cæca 2, their diameter 3/12 towards the end.

Trachea, moderately extended, 5 1/2 inches long, its greatest breadth 3 1/4/12, its least 1 1/2/12. Its rings 130, very slender, unossified, collapsed, and owing to their narrowness in the middle line before and behind, seeming as if broken there; bronchi with 15 half-rings. The contractor muscles moderate, the sterno-tracheal slender; a pair of muscles on the lower larynx, from the lower rings of the trachea to the membrane over the first bronchial ring.

In the mouth was a small frog, in the pharynx two, in the œsophagus two more, a large piece of root, numerous fragments of insects, and a leach, the frogs 2 1/2 inches long. In the gizzard were seeds, and fragments of white fleshy roots.

GREAT NORTHERN DIVER OR LOON.

Colymbus glacialis, Linn.
PLATE CCCVI. Adult Male and Young Male.

The Loon, as this interesting species of Diver is generally called in the United States, is a strong, active, and vigilant bird. When it has acquired its perfect plumage, which is not altered in colour at any successive moult, it is really a beautiful creature; and the student of Nature who has opportunities of observing its habits, cannot fail to derive much pleasure from watching it as it pursues its avocations. View it as it buoyantly swims over the heaving billows of the Atlantic, or as it glides along deeply immersed, when apprehensive of danger, on the placid lake, on the grassy islet of which its nest is placed; calculate, if you can, the speed of its flight, as it shoots across the sky; mark the many plunges it performs in quest of its finny food, or in eluding its enemies; list to the loud and plaintive notes which it issues, either to announce its safety to its mate, or to invite some traveller of its race to alight, and find repose and food; follow the anxious and careful mother-bird, as she leads about her precious charge; and you will not count your labour lost, for you will have watched the ways of one of the wondrous creations of unlimited Power and unerring Wisdom. You will find pleasure too in admiring the glossy tints of its head and neck, and the singular regularity of the unnumbered spots by which its dusky back and wings are checkered.

I have met with the Great Diver, in winter, on all the water-courses of the United States, whence, however, it departs when the cold becomes extreme, and the surface is converted into an impenetrable sheet of ice. I have seen it also along the whole of our Atlantic coast, from Maine to the extremity of Florida, and from thence to the mouths of the Mississippi, and the shores of Texas, about Galveston Island, where some individuals in the plumage characteristic of the second moult, were observed in the course of my late expedition, in the month of April 1837. Indeed, as is the case with most other species of migrating birds, the young remove farther south that the old individuals, which are better able to withstand the cold and tempests of the wintry season.

The migratory movements of this bird seem to be differently managed in the spring and autumn. In the latter case, a great number of young Loons are seen to alight on the head waters of our great streams, on which, without much exertion, being aided by the current, they float along, diving at intervals in pursuit of the numerous fishes, as they proceed toward milder climes. The few old birds which, at a later date, appear on the same water-courses, frequently take to wing, and shorten their way by flying at a considerable elevation directly across the great bends or peninsulas. These modes of travelling are also adopted by those which advance along the Atlantic coasts, where, indeed, the birds have the double advantage of meeting with food and obtaining repose, on the rivers and on the sea. I think, however, that this maritime course is followed only by such of the Loons as have bred in the more immediate vicinity of the coast. But whether you are in the interior, or on the coast, it is seldom that you see at a time more than one Loon travelling at this season; whereas, in spring, they proceed in pairs, the male taking the lead, as is easily ascertained by observing that the bird in the rear is the smallest.

Although, its wings are rather small, its flight is strong and rapid, so that it is enabled to traverse a large extent of country on wing. When travelling, or even when only raised from its nest, it moves through the air with all the swiftness of the other species of its tribe, generally passing directly from one point to another, however distant it may be. Its long transits are at times performed at so great an elevation, that its form can scarcely be distinguished, and yet, even then, in calm weather, the noise of its wings striking the air comes distinctly on your ear. I have seen them thus, on their way towards Labrador, passing over the head waters of the Bay of Fundy, to cross the Gulf of St Lawrence. Whenever it chances to alight on the water, in the course of its long journeys, it almost immediately dives, as if to taste the water, and judge whether it contains food suited to its appetite. On emerging, and after having somewhat raised the fore part of its body, shaken its wings, and by a strong shiver rearranged its plumage, it emits its loud echoing call-note, to induce, perchance, some traveller of its tribe to alight for awhile, that they may communicate to each other their experience of the past, or their hopes of the future. There is an absurd notion, entertained by persons unacquainted with the nature of this bird, that its plaintive cries are a sure indication of violent storms. Sailors, in particular, are ever apt to consider these call-notes as portentous. In the course of a voyage from Charleston to the Florida Keys, in May 1832, I several times saw and heard Loons travelling eastward; but, notwithstanding all the dire forebodings of the crew, who believed that a hurricane was at hand, our passage was exceedingly pleasant. Although I have heard the notes of the Loon in rainy and blowy weather, yet I never heard them so frequent or so loud, both by day and by night, as on the Ohio, during that delightful and peculiarly American autumnal season called the Indian Summer; when, although not so much as a cloud was seen for weeks, I have frequently observed the passing birds checking their flight, or heard the murmuring plash which they produced on alighting upon the placid water, to rest and refresh themselves.

Another strange notion, not deserving of credit, although you will find it gravely announced in books, is that, when the Loon is breeding, it will dart down suddenly from the air, and alight securely in its nest. I have never witnessed such a procedure, although I have closely watched, from under cover, at least, twenty pairs. On such occasions I have seen the incubating bird pass over the dear spot several times in succession, gradually rounding and descending so as at last to alight obliquely on the water, which it always did at a considerable distance from the nest, and did not approach it until after glancing around and listening attentively, as if to assure itself that it was not watched, when it would swim to the shore, and resume its office.

The Loon breeds in various parts of the United States, from Maryland to Maine. I have ascertained that it nestles in the former of these States, on the Susquehannah river, as well as in the districts between Kentucky and Canada, and on our great lakes. Dr Richardson states that it is found breeding as far north as the 70th degree of latitude. The situation and form of the nest differ according to circumstances. Some of those which breed in the State of Maine, place it on the hillocks of weeds and mud prepared by the musk-rat, on the edges of the lakes, or at some distance from them among the rushes. Other nests, found on the head-waters of the Wabash River, were situated on the mud, amid the rank weeds, more than ten yards from the water. Authors have said that only one pair breed on a lake; but I have found three pairs, with their nests, on a pond not exceeding a quarter of a mile in length, in the State of Maine. One that I saw after the young had left it, on Cayuga Lake, in 1824, was almost afloat, and rudely attached to the rushes, more than forty yards from the land, though its base was laid on the bottom, the water being eight or nine inches deep. Others examined in Labrador were placed on dry land, several yards from the water, and raised to the height of nearly a foot above the decayed moss on which they were laid. But, in cases when the nest was found at any distance from the water, we discovered a well-beaten path leading to it, and very much resembling those made by the Beaver, to which the hunters give the name of “crawls.” The nest, wherever placed, is bulky, and formed of the vegetable substances found in the immediate vicinity, such as fresh or withered grasses and herbaceous plants. The internal part, or the true nest, which is rarely less than a foot, and is sometimes fifteen inches, in diameter, is raised upon the external or inferior mass, to the height of seven or eight inches. Such was one found on the 5th July 1835, in Labrador, and which was placed within three yards of the edge of a considerable pond of limpid water, supposed to have been produced by the melting of the snow, and upwards of a mile distant from the sea. Of the many nests which I have examined, I have found more containing three than two eggs, and I am confident that the former number is that which more frequently occurs, although many European, and some American writers, who probably never saw a nest of this bird, allege the contrary. The eggs average three inches and three quarters in length, by two inches and a quarter in their greatest breadth, and thus are considerably elongated, being particularly narrowed from the bulge to the smaller end, which is rather pointed. They are of a dull greenish-ochry tint, rather indistinctly marked with spots of dark umber, which are more numerous toward the larger extremity. The weight of two of these eggs, containing young nearly ready to emerge, was ten ounces and a half. In Maine the Loon lays fully a month earlier than in Labrador, and about the same period as on the Wabash.

On approaching the female while sitting on her eggs, I assured myself that she incubates with her body laid flat upon them, in the same way as the Domestic Duck, and that, on perceiving the intruder, she squats close, and so remains until he is almost over her, when she springs up with great force, and makes at once for the water, in a scrambling and sliding manner, pushing herself along the ground. On gaining the water, she dives at once, emerges at a great distance, and very rarely suffers herself to be approached within gunshot. Sometimes they swim so deeply immersed as scarcely to be perceptible, and keep as much as possible among the rushes and other water plants. When the eggs are on the eve of being hatched, the mother, when disturbed, often cries loudly and dismally for some time, but seldom flies off. At other times, when I found the eggs to have been recently laid, the bird, on reaching the water, and diving, swam lightly, flapping its wings, drank once or twice, and moved about at a respectful distance. On such occasions, should you persist in watching it, it rises on wing and flies off. Should you not mark the spot in which the nest is, but leave it to go in pursuit of the bird, you may search for hours before finding it, for the path leading from the water to it is generally covered over by the herbage. Once while approaching a spot in which I knew a Loon to be engaged in forming her nest, I was disappointed at not finding her at work: her keen sense of hearing had apprised her of my purpose, and cunningly must she have slipped away, for, on finding her absent, although I had not heard any noise, I happened to look toward the water, and there she was, gliding off in the quiet manner usual on such occasions.

The young of the Loon are covered at birth with a kind of black stiff down, and in a day or two after are led to the water by their mother. They swim and dive extremely well even at this early stage of their existence, and after being fed by regurgitation for about a fortnight, receive portions of fish, aquatic insects, and small reptiles, until they are able to maintain themselves. During this period, grey feathers appear among the down of the back and belly, and the black quill-feathers of the wings and tail gradually elongate. They are generally very fat, and so clumsy as to be easily caught on land, if their retreat to the water be cut off. But should you miss your opportunity, and the birds succeed in gaining the liquid element, into which they drop like so many Terrapins, you will be astonished to see them as it were run over the water with extreme celerity, leaving behind them a distinct furrow. This power of traversing the surface of the water is possessed not only by the young and old of this species, but by all other kinds of swimmers, including even Gallinules and Coots. When the young are well able to fly, the mother entices them to remove from the pond or lake on which they have been bred, and leads them on wing to the nearest part of the sea, after which she leaves them to shift for themselves. Now and then, after this period, the end of August or beginning of September, I have still seen the young of a brood, two or three in number, continuing together until they were induced to travel southward, when they generally set out singly.

Having given you a figure of a young bird, taken in October 1819 from a specimen obtained on the Ohio, I will not here trouble you with its description, but merely state that the young undergo their first moult in December, when they are seen singularly patched with portions of new plumage beautifully speckled with white, on a bed of almost uniform ash-brown. I was told, while in the State of Maine, that if the young were caught soon after being hatched, and before they had been in the water, they would, if thrown into it, immediately follow a paddled canoe anywhere; but, as I have not myself made the experiment, I cannot speak of this as a fact.

Although it has been generally asserted that Loons cannot walk or run in an efficient manner, I feel assured that on emergency the case is very different. An instance which occurred to my youngest son, John Woodhouse, who accompanied me to Labrador, may here be related. One day, when he was in pursuit of some King Ducks, a Loon chanced to fly immediately over him within shooting distance of his enormous double-barrelled gun. The moment was propitious, and on firing he was glad to see the bird fall broken-winged on the bare granitic rocks. As if perfectly aware of its danger, it immediately rose erect on its feet, and inclining its body slightly forward, ran off, stumbled, rose again, and getting along in this manner actually reached the water before my son, who is by no means slow of foot. The space traversed was fully an hundred yards, and the water to an equal distance was not more than ankle-deep. The bird and its pursuer ran swiftly through the water, and just as both reached a sudden break about four feet in depth, the Loon, which had been wounded elsewhere than in the wing, expired and floated at the disposal of its enemy, who brought it on board the Ripley; when I entered this anecdote in my journal.

These birds are so very strong and hardy that some of the old ones remain in Maine and Massachusetts until all the fresh waters are frozen, first leaving the quiet lakes and ponds, then the slow streams, and lastly the turbulent pools below waterfalls, which latter they do not quit until they are overhung by icicles and deserted of fish. On the other hand, this species returns northward at a later period than most others that breed in high latitudes. I have witnessed the arrival of some on the coast of Labrador, after they had crossed the Gulf of St Lawrence, as late as the 20th of June, after which they had scarcely four months to seek out a breeding place, lay their eggs, hatch and rear their young, and with them remove southward, before the rigour of winter commenced.

The Great Northern Diver is a heavy-bodied bird, and generally swims rather deep in the water, more especially if apprehensive of immediate danger, when scarcely more than two inches in height of its back can be seen above the surface. As its body is more flattened than that of the Cormorant, this circumstance might seem to favour the action in question; but other species less depressed exhibit the same peculiarity; and I have thought that in all of these the internal structure alone can account for this peculiar faculty.

With the exception of that most expert of all divers, the Anhinga, and the Great Auk, the Loon is perhaps the most accomplished. Whether it be fishing in deep water amid rolling billows, or engaged in eluding its foes, it disappears beneath the surface so suddenly, remains so long in the water, and rises at so extraordinary a distance, often in a direction quite the reverse of that supposed to be followed by it, that your eyes become wearied in searching for it, and you renounce the wish of procuring it out of sheer vexation. At least, this has very frequently happened to me; nay, I have at times abandoned the chase when the bird was so severely wounded as to be obliged to dive immediately beside my boat, and had it not died of exhaustion and floated near enough to be seized by me, I felt as if I could not have pulled my oars any longer, and was willing to admit that I was outdone by a Loon.

In Labrador, where these birds were abundant, my son John one day shot at one on wing, which fell upon the water to appearance quite dead, and remained on its back motionless until we had leisurely rowed to it, when a sailor put out his hand to take it up. The Loon, however, to our surprise, suddenly sprung up, and dived, and while we stood amazed, watching its appearance, we saw it come up at the distance of about an hundred yards, shake its head, and disgorge a quantity of fish mixed with blood; on which it dived again, and seemed lost to us. We rowed however to the spot in all haste, and the moment it rose, sent another shot after it, which terminated its career. On examining it afterwards, we found it quite riddled by the heavy shot.

If ever so slightly wounded, the Loon prefers diving to flying off, and all your endeavours to kill it are almost sure to prove unavailing, You may shoot at it under such circumstances, but you will lose both your time and your ammunition. Its keenness of sight defies the best percussion-locked gun, for it is generally deep in the water before the shot reaches the spot where it has been. When fatigued with diving in the ordinary manner, it will sink backwards, like a Grebe or a Frog, make for some concealed spot among the rushes, and there lie until your eyes ache with searching, and your stomach admonishes you of the propriety of retiring.

Loons are now and then caught in fishermen’s nets, and are soon drowned. I have also caught them with hooks fastened to lines laid across the Ohio, but on no such occasion have I taken the bird alive. A method of shooting these birds, which I have often practised, and which was several times successfully employed by our Labrador party, may here be related. On seeing a Loon on the water, at whatever distance, the sportsman immediately places himself under the nearest cover on the shore, and remains there as carefully concealed as possible. A few minutes are allowed to pass, to give the wary and sharp-sighted bird all due confidence; during which time the gun, charged with large shot, is laid in a convenient position. The gunner then takes his cap or pocket-handkerchief, which if brightly coloured is so much the better, and raising it in one hand, waves it three or four times, and then suddenly conceals it. The bird commonly detects the signal at once, and, probably imagining the object thus exhibited to be one of its own species, gradually advances, emitting its love-notes, which resemble a coarse laugh, as it proceeds. The sportsman imitates these notes, making them loud and yet somewhat mellow, waving his cap or kerchief at the same time, and this he continues to do at intervals. The Loon, in order to arrive more quickly, dives, perhaps rises within fifty yards of him, and calling less loudly, advances with considerable caution. He shews the signal less frequently, imitates the notes of the bird more faintly, and carefully keeps himself concealed, until the Loon, having approached within twenty or even ten paces, dives and on emerging raises itself up to shake its wings, when off goes the shot, and the deluded bird floats dead on the water. Many species of Ducks are procured in nearly the same manner. The male Turkey, in the gobbling season, and the Stag in autumn, may also be drawn within shot by the same means. I once “tolled” two Loons with my hat from a distance of nearly half a mile, and although they were at one time so near to me that I could clearly perceive the colour of their eyes, I had no sure opportunity of firing at them, as it was in the pairing season, and they never once dived, or raised their wings to flap them, so that, knowing the extreme agility with which they disappear when they have seen a gun snap, I judged it useless to shoot. Until my visit to Labrador I had supposed, agreeably to the common belief, that the Loons always repose at night on the water, which, however, I have since assured myself they rarely if ever do.

Colonel Montagu, than whom none has written more correctly on the habits of the birds of Great Britain, having procured a wounded Loon, placed it in a pond, and observed the manner in which it made its way under the surface of the water. “In swimming and diving,” he remarks, “only the legs are used and not the wings, as in the Guillemot and Auk tribes, and by their position so far behind, and their little deviation from the line of the body, the bird is enabled to propel itself in the water with great velocity, in a straight line, as well as turn with astonishing quickness.” This I have no doubt was the case with the individual observed; but that this is not the usual mode of proceeding of the species is equally true. Having myself seen Loons pass and repass under boats, at the distance of several feet from the surface, and propel themselves both with their feet, and their half-extended wings, I am inclined to believe that when not wounded, and when pursuing their prey, they usually employ all the limbs.

My friend Thomas Nuttall, who kept one for some time, gives the following account of its manners while in his possession. “A young bird of this kind which I obtained in the Salt Marsh at Chelsea Beach, and transferred to a fish-pond, made a good deal of plaint, and would sometimes wander out of his more natural element, and hide and bask in the grass. On these occasions he lay very still until nearly approached, and then slid into the pond and uttered his usual plaint. When out at a distance he made the same cautious efforts to hide, and would commonly defend himself in great anger, by darting at the intruder, and striking powerfully with his dagger-like bill. This bird, with a pink-coloured iris-like albinos, appeared to suffer from the glare of broad day-light, and was inclined to hide from its effects, but became very active towards the dusk of the evening. The pupil of the eye in this individual, like that of nocturnal animals, appeared indeed dilatable; and the one in question often put down his head and eyes into the water to observe the situation of his prey. This bird was a most expert and indefatigable diver, and remained down sometimes for several minutes, often swimming under water, and as it were flying with the velocity of an arrow in the air. Though at length inclining to become docile, and shewing no alarm when visited, it constantly betrayed its wandering habits, and every night was found to have waddled to some hiding place, where it seemed to prefer hunger to the loss of liberty, and never could be restrained from exercising its instinct to move onwards to some secure or more suitable asylum.”

The same valued friend has corroborated the result of my observations respecting the number of eggs usually laid by this species, by stating as follows: “About the 11th of June, through the kindness of Dr J. W. Harris, I received three eggs, which had been taken from the nest of a Loon, made in a hummock, or elevated grassy hillock, at Sebago Pond, in New Hampshire.”

The range of this species is immense. It occurs on the waters that fall into the Pacific Ocean, and has been observed on the Columbia River. In the Fur Countries it is plentiful; and, as I have already stated, it breeds in many parts of the United States. It is found equally in Europe, and the northern parts of Asia. In all these countries it moves southward on the approach of winter, and returns when the mild weather commences in spring.

Unlike the Cormorant, the Loon usually swallows its food under the water, unless when it happens to bring up a shell-fish or a crustaceous animal, which it munches for a while before it swallows it. Fishes of numerous kinds, aquatic insects, water-lizards, frogs, and leeches, have been found by me in its stomach, in which there is also generally much coarse gravel, and sometimes the roots of fresh-water plants.

Although the flesh of the Loon is not very palatable, being tough, rank, and dark coloured, I have seen it much relished by many lovers of good-living, especially at Boston, where it was not unfrequently served almost raw at the table of the house where I boarded.

A female bird particularly examined by me presented the following appearances. From the point of the bill to the end of the tail it measured 34 inches; to the claws 41; the extended wings were 71; the bill measured 5 inches along the gape; the breadth of the body was 8 inches, its depth only four; the wings were 2 inches shorter than the tail; and the weight was 10 lb. 11 oz. avoirdupois. The first primary was longest. The trachea, which was even and flattened, being in diameter about 5/8 of an inch by 1/2 inch, was 16 inches long. The eggs were numerous. The gizzard was moderate, and contained many large pebbles. The intestines were 7 feet long, and about the same size as a Swan’s quill. Every bone and sinew was strong and tough. The tongue resembled in shape and size that of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. The bones of the wing and leg were almost solid, the cavity for the marrow being very small. All the bones of this specimen were presented to Mr Thomas Allis, of the Friend’s Retreat, near York.

My friend Captain James Clark Ross, of the Royal Navy of England, once placed at my disposal a specimen of the Loon procured in a very high latitude, and which, having closely inspected it, I found to differ from the one represented in the plate, only in having the point of the bill slightly elevated or recurved, and of a fine yellow tint. Dr Richardson informed me that, on one of his arduous northern journeys, he saw a very large and handsomely crested Diver, which, although somewhat prematurely, I propose honouring with the name of Colymbus Richardsoni.

Colymbus glacialis, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 221. Adult.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. p. 799.

Colymbus Immer, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 222. Young.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. p. 800.

Colymbus glacialis, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 420.

Great Northern Diver or Loon, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. ix. pl. 74, fig. 3.

Colymbus glacialis, Richards. and Swains. Fauna Bor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 474.

Loon, or Great Northern Diver, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 513.

Adult Male. Plate CCCVI. Fig. 1.

Bill as long as the head, straight, stout, much compressed, tapering to a point. Upper mandible with the dorsal line descending and slightly convex towards the end, the ridge convex, narrowed towards the point, the sides convex beyond the nostrils, the edges sharp and considerably inflected, the tip narrow and sharpish. Nasal groove short, nostrils basal, linear, direct, 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 and narrow, the edges sharp and involute; the tip attenuated.

Head of moderate size, oblong, narrowed before. Neck rather long and thick. Eyes of moderate size. Body elongated, much depressed, of an elliptical form viewed from above. 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 articulated membranes, the fourth or outer longest, the third a little shorter, the second considerably shorter than the third, all covered above with very numerous narrow scutella, the second toe with a free two-lobed membrane; claws very small, depressed, blunt.

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

Bill black. Iris deep bright red. Feet, tarsi, and toes, of a livid greyish-blue, their inner sides tinged with pale yellowish flesh-colour; claws black, lighter at the base; webs brownish-black, lighter in the middle. Head and neck dark greenish-blue, with purple reflections. On the throat a small transverse patch of white, longitudinally striated with dusky; about the middle of the neck, two large patches of the same, separated in front to the distance of an inch, behind continuous, but when the feathers are laid close, appearing as if separated by a longitudinal dark band about half an inch in breadth. The under parts glossy white, excepting the feathers on the sides under the wing, which are black, each with two, three, or four elliptical white spots, a faint dusky band across the vent, the lower tail-coverts, which are brownish-black tipped with white, and the axillar feathers and larger wing-coverts, which have a dusky streak along the middle. The sides of the neck at its lower part are longitudinally streaked with black and white, there being two oblong spots of the latter on each feather towards the end. The upper parts are glossy black, variegated with spots of white in regular transverse slightly-curved lines having the convexity backwards. These spots vary in form and size, being small and roundish towards the neck and sides, larger and somewhat four-sided along the middle of the back: largest and rectangular on the scapulars, very small and roundish on the hind part of the back and tail-coverts. The upper part of the wing is similar, with smallish spots; the alula and quill brownish-black, a few of the inner secondaries only having two white spots at their extremity. Tail brownish-black, paler at the tip.

The female is generally smaller, but in all other respects resembles the male. Weight 10 lb. 11 oz.

Young in winter. Plate, CCCVI. Fig. 2.

Bill pale yellowish-green, the ridge and tip of the upper mandible dusky. Iris brown. Feet dusky externally, pale yellowish flesh-colour internally, webs dusky, but yellow in the middle. Claws yellowish-brown. All the upper parts are of a uniform dark greyish-brown, each feather margined with lighter, the lower parts white; the sides of the neck at the lower part whitish, streaked with dusky; the sides dusky, without spots.

Towards spring the eye assumes a redder tint, and the plumage of the upper parts gradually becomes spotted with white; and when the moult is completed about the end of summer, the plumage is as in the adult, although the tints are improved at each successive moult for several years.

A fine male killed at Boston, 34 inches in length, with an alar extent of 56, presents the following characters. There is a general layer of subcutaneous adipose tissue, and the skin is very tenacious. The external aperture of the ear roundish, very small, having a diameter of only 2 lines. The tongue is 2 inches 1 line in length, fleshy, as high as broad, slightly concave and longitudinally grooved above, tapering to a horny point. On the palate are 6 rows of papillæ; the posterior aperture of the nares is linear 2 1/2 inches in length. The aperture of the glottis is 1/2 an inch long, with numerous papillæ along its sides and behind. The pharynx is extremely dilatable, as is the œsophagus, which is 17 inches long, passes along the right side of the neck, together with the trachea, and when distended has an average diameter of 2 1/2 inches, but on entering the thorax contracts to 1 1/2. The structure of the œsophagus in birds may be very conveniently examined in this species, the different layers being remarkably developed in it. Properly speaking, it has only two coats,—the outer muscular, its external layer composed of transverse or circular fibres, the internal of equally distinct longitudinal fibres, which are not straight, but irregularly undulated. The inner, or mucous coat, when contracted falls into longitudinal plaits. The proventriculus is 2 3/4 inches long, the glandules large, roundish, simple, and disposed in a continuous belt. Over this part, the transverse muscular fibres are remarkably developed. The right lobe of the liver is 5 3/4 inches long, the left lobe 5 1/2. The heart is very large, of a broadly conical form, 3 inches long, 2 3/4 inches in breadth. The stomach is three inches long, 2 1/2 in breadth, of an elliptical form, a little compressed; its lateral muscles 9 lines in thickness, and composed of strong large fasciculi; the tendons 1 1/2 inch in diameter; the cuticular lining thick, its upper and lower parts marked with strong longitudinal ridges having numerous transverse fissures; the grinding surfaces irregularly wrinkled, with a deep fissure down the middle of each. The pylorus is 8 lines in diameter when distended, and is destitute of valve, but has a strong prominent rim. In the stomach were remains of fishes, and some pebbles, chiefly quartz, the largest 4 lines long. The intestine measures 6 feet 6 inches in length, and varies in diameter from 8 to 6 lines. The rectum is 3 1/2 inches long, the cloaca extremely large, forming a cavity about 3 inches in diameter. The cæca are 1 3/4 inch long, cylindrical, rounded at the extremity; one of them 7 lines, the other 9 lines, in diameter.

The trachea, when moderately extended, measures 13 1/2 inches in length, inconsiderably depressed, its transverse diameter at the upper part 9 1/2 lines, at the lower 6 1/2 lines; the rings cartilaginous, of moderate breadth, uniform, with a contraction in the middle before and behind, their number 134, the four lowest united. The bronchi are composed of about 20 narrow cartilaginous half rings. The contractor muscles are very broad but thin, their fibres irregularly disposed in front; they become thicker and narrower toward the lower part, and are continued beyond the sterno-tracheal muscles, which come off from the 20th ring from the inferior larynx, to the membrane between the last tracheal and first bronchial ring.

BLUE HERON.

Ardea cœrulea, Linn.
PLATE CCCVII. Adult Male and Young.

Along with a few other Herons, this is, comparatively speaking, confined within narrow limits along our southern coast in winter. It occurs, however, in most parts of the Floridas, where it is a constant resident, and whence, at the approach of summer, vast multitudes are seen proceeding northward, in search of suitable places in which they may rear their young in security. Many, however, go southward, beyond the limits of the United States, and proceed coastwise to Texas and Mexico to spend the winter, especially the younger birds, when still in that singular white plumage which differs so much from that of the young of every other known species of this genus, except that of the Reddish Egret (A. rufescens). At New Orleans, where it arrives at the same period, both from Mexico and the Floridas, its first appearance in spring is about the beginning of March; at which time also multitudes leave the Floridas on their way eastward, to settle in Georgia, the Carolinas, and other States farther east, as far as Long Island in that of New York. Beyond this, I believe, no birds of the species have been met with. They rarely, if ever, proceed far inland, or leave the shores of our large rivers and estuaries. On the Mississippi, the swamps and lakes on the borders of which are so well adapted to the habits of these birds, few individuals are ever seen above Natchez. About the beginning of September, by which time the young are able to shift for themselves, they return southward.

When in the Floridas, during winter, I observed that the Blue Herons associated with other species, particularly the White Heron, Ardea alba, and the Louisiana Heron, Ardea Ludoviciana, all of which were in the habit of roosting together in the thick evergreen low bushes that cover the central parts of the islands along the coast. Their passage to and from their feeding places, is as regular as the rising and setting of the sun, and, unless frequently disturbed, they betake themselves every night to the same locality, and almost to the same spot. In the morning, they rise with one accord from the roosts on which they have been standing all night on one leg, the other drawn up among the feathers of the abdomen, their neck retracted, and their head and bill buried beneath their scapulars. On emerging from their retreats, they at once proceed to some distant place in search of food, and spend the day principally on the head waters of the rivers, and the fresh-water lakes of the interior, giving a decided preference to the soft mud banks, where small crabs or fiddlers are abundant, on which they feed greedily, when the inland ponds have been dried up, and consequently no longer supply them with such fishes as they are wont to feed upon.

There, and at this season, Reader, you may see this graceful Heron, quietly and in silence walking along the margins of the water, with an elegance and grace which can never fail to please you. Each regularly-timed step is lightly measured, while the keen eye of the bird seeks for and watches the equally cautious movements of the objects towards which it advances with all imaginable care. When at a proper distance, it darts forth its bill with astonishing celerity, to pierce and secure its prey; and this it does with so much precision, that, while watching some at a distance with a glass, I rarely observed an instance of failure. If fish is plentiful, on the shallows near the shore, when it has caught one, it immediately swallows it, and runs briskly through the water, striking here and there, and thus capturing several in succession. Two or three dashes of this sort, afford sufficient nourishment for several hours, and when the bird has obtained enough it retires to some quiet place, and remains there in an attitude of repose until its hunger returns. During this period of rest, however, it is as watchful as ever, and on hearing the least noise, or perceiving the slightest appearance of danger, spreads its wings, and flies off to some other place, sometimes to a very distant one. About an hour before sunset, they are again seen anxiously searching for food. When at length satisfied, they rise simultaneously from all parts of the marsh, or shore, arrange themselves into loose bodies, and ascending to the height of fifty or sixty yards in the air, fly in a straight course towards their roosting place. I saw very few of these birds during the winter, on or near the river St John in Florida; but on several occasions met with some on small ponds in the pine barrens, at a considerable distance from any large stream, whither they had been attracted by the great number of frogs.

The flight of the Blue Heron is rather swifter than that of the Egret, Ardea candidissima, and considerably more so than that of the Great Blue Heron, Ardea Herodias, but very similar to that of the Louisiana Heron, Ardea Ludoviciana. When the bird is travelling, the motion is performed by flappings in quick succession, which rapidly propel it in a direct line, until it is about to alight, when it descends in circular sailings of considerable extent towards the spot selected. During strong adverse winds, they fly low, and in a continuous line, passing at the necessary distance from the shores to avoid danger, whether at an early or a late hour of the day. I recollect that once, on such an occasion, when, on the 15th of March, I was in company with my friend John Bachman, I saw a large flock about sunset arising from across the river, and circling over a large pond, eight miles distant from Charleston. So cautious were they, that although the flock was composed of several hundred individuals, we could not manage to get so much as a chance of killing one. I have been surprised to see how soon the Blue Herons become shy after reaching the districts to which they remove for the purpose of breeding from their great rendezvous the Floridas, where I never experienced any difficulty in procuring as many as I wished. In Louisiana, on the other hand, I have found them equally vigilant on their first arrival. On several occasions, when I had placed myself under cover, to shoot at some, while on their way to their roosts or to their feeding grounds, I found it necessary to shift from one place to another, for if one of them had been fired at and had fallen in a particular place, all that were in its company took care not to pass again near it, but when coming up diverged several hundred yards, and increased their speed until past, when they would assume their more leisurely flappings. In South Carolina, where they are very shy on their arrival, I have seen them fly off on hearing the very distant report of a gun, and alight on the tops of the tallest trees, where they would congregate in hundreds, and whence they would again fly off on the least apprehension of danger. But when once these Herons have chosen a place to nestle in, or reached one in which they bred the preceding year, they become so tame as to allow you to shoot as many as you are disposed to have.

While on Cayo Island, in the Gulf of Mexico, on the 10th of April 1837, I observed large flocks of the Blue and Green Herons, Ardea cœrulea and A. virescens, arriving from the westward about the middle of the day. They flew at a considerable height, and came down like so many hawks, to alight on the low bushes growing around the sequestered ponds; and this without any other noise than the rustling of their wings as they glided through the air towards the spot on which they at once alighted. There they remained until sunset, when they all flew off, so that none were seen there next day. This shews that although these species migrate both by day and night, they are quite diurnal during the period of their residence in any section of the country which they may have chosen for a season. It is more than probable that it has been from want of personal knowledge of the habits of these birds, that authors have asserted that all Herons are nocturnally inclined. This certainly is by no means the case, although they find it advantageous to travel by night during their migrations, which is a remarkable circumstance as opposed to their ordinary habits. In the instance above mentioned, I found the birds remarkably gentle, which was probably owing to fatigue.

The Blue Heron breeds earlier or later according to the temperature of the district to which it resorts for that purpose, and therefore earlier in Florida, where, however, considerable numbers remain, during the whole year than in other parts of the United States. Thus I have found them in the southern parts of that country, sitting on their eggs, on the 1st of March, fully a month earlier than in the vicinity of Bayou Sara, on the Mississippi, where they are as much in advance of those which betake themselves, in very small numbers indeed, to our Middle Districts, in which they rarely begin to breed before the fifteenth of May.

The situations which they choose for their nests are exceedingly varied. I have found them sitting on their eggs on the Florida Keys, and on the islands in the Bay of Galveston, in Texas, in nests placed amidst and upon the most tangled cactuses, so abundant on those curious isles, on the latter of which the climbing Rattlesnake often gorges itself with the eggs of this and other species of Heron, as well as with their unfledged young. In the Lower parts of Louisiana, it breeds on low bushes of the water-willow, as it also does in South Carolina; whereas, on the islands on the coast of New Jersey, and even on the mainland of that State, it places its nest on the branches of the cedar and other suitable trees. Wherever you find its breeding place, you may expect to see other birds in company with it, for like all other species, excepting perhaps the Louisiana Heron, it rarely objects to admit into its society the Night Heron, the Yellow-crowned Heron, or the White Egret.

The heronries of the southern portions of the United States are often of such extraordinary size as to astonish the passing traveller. I confess that I myself might have been as sceptical on this point as some who, having been accustomed to find in all places the Heron to be a solitary bird, cannot be prevailed on to believe the contrary, had I not seen with my own eyes the vast multitudes of individuals of different species breeding together in peace in certain favourable localities. Such persons may be excused from giving that credit to my account of the Passenger Pigeon which posterity will, I trust, accord to it.

The nest of the Blue Heron, wherever situated, is loosely formed of dry sticks, sometimes intermixed with green leaves of various trees, and with grass or moss, according as these materials happen to be plentiful in the neighbourhood. It is nearly flat, and can scarcely be said to have a regular lining. Sometimes you see a solitary nest fixed on a cactus, a bush, or a tree; but a little beyond this you may observe from six to ten, placed almost as closely together as you would have put them had you measured out the space necessary for containing them. Some are seen low over the water, while others are placed high; for, like the rest of its tribe, this species is rather fond of placing its tenement over or near the liquid element.

The eggs are usually three, rarely four; and I have never found a nest of this species containing five eggs, as is stated by Wilson, who, probably found a nest of the Green Heron containing that number among others of the present species. They measure an inch and three quarters in length, by an inch and a quarter in breadth, being about the size of those of Ardea candidissima, though rather more elongated, and precisely of the same colour.

The young bird is at first almost destitute of feathers, but scantily covered with yellowish-white down. When fully fledged, its bill and legs are greenish-black, and its plumage pure white, or slightly tinged with cream-colour, the tips of the three outer primaries light greyish-blue. Of this colour the bird remains until the breeding season, when, however, some individuals exhibit a few straggling pale blue feathers. When they have entered on their second year, these young birds become spotted with deeper blue on some parts of the body, or on the head and neck, thus appearing singularly patched with that colour and pure white, the former increasing with the age of the bird in so remarkable a manner, that you may see specimens of these birds with portions even of the pendant feathers of their head or shoulders so marked. And these are produced by full moultings, by which I mean the unexpected appearance, as it were, of feathers growing out of the skin of the bird coloured entirely blue, as is the case in many of our land birds. In all these stages of plumage, and from the first spring after birth, the young birds breed with others, as is equally the case with Ardea rufescens. You may see a pure white individual paired with one of a full blue colour, or with one patched with blue and white. The young, after leaving their parents, remain separate from the old birds until the next breeding season. At no period can the young of this species be confounded with, or mistaken for that of the Ardea candidissima, by a person really acquainted with these birds, for the Blue Heron is not only larger than the latter, but the very colour of its feet and legs is perfectly distinctive. Indeed, during the time when the young Blue Heron is quite white (excepting on the tips of the outer primaries), it would be easier to confound it with the young of the Reddish Egret, Ardea rufescens, than with that of any other, were the feathers of its hind head and neck of the same curious curled appearance as those of that species.

My friend John Bachman informs me, that in South Carolina, this species not unfrequently breeds in the company of the Louisiana Heron, the nests and eggs of which, he adds, are very similar. He has specimens of these birds in all the different stages which I have described. At New Orleans, the Blue Herons, during the transition of their plumage from white to blue, are called “Egrettes folles,” or foolish Egrets, on account of their unusual tameness. My friend Bachman and I, shot, on the 6th and 9th of April, several specimens spotted with blue feathers, and having their crests and trains similarly mixed, although of full length; but in most of the specimens obtained, the white was still prevalent. I have shot some in Louisiana, in autumn, in the same curious dress.

This species, though larger than the Snowy Heron, Ardea candidissima, is considerably inferior to it in courage; and I was much amused as well as surprised, when at Galveston Bay, on the 24th of April 1837, to see one of that species alight near a Purple Heron, attack it, and pursue it as far as I could follow them with my eyes. When the Blue Herons are on the sea-coast they not unfrequently repose on the large mud or sand bars, at some distance from the adjacent marshes; but they generally prefer roosting on trees or bushes, when there are any in their neighbourhood. The Creoles of Louisiana not unfrequently eat the flesh of this species, and although they by no means consider it equal to that of the Night Heron, some of them have assured me that it is not bad food. Like other birds of this family, they become larger with age, and the male is usually somewhat superior in size to the female; but, with this exception, no difference can be perceived in the external appearance of the sexes.

Ardea cœrulea, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. 1. p. 238.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 689.

Ardea cœrulea, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis, p. 300.

Blue Heron, Ardea cœrulea, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vii. p. 117. pl. 62. fig. 3. Adult.

Blue Heron, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 58.

Adult Male in full plumage. Plate CCCVI. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, rather slender, very slightly decurved, compressed, tapering to a point. Upper mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight for two-thirds of its length, then slightly decurved, the ridge convex, broad at the base, gradually narrowed to the point; a groove from the base to near the end, the sides convex beneath, the edges thin and sharp, with a slight notch close to the tips. Nostrils basal, linear, longitudinal, with a membrane above and behind. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow and elongated, the dorsal line beyond it ascending and almost straight, the sides sloping outwards, and flattened, the edges sharp and slightly inflected, the tip acuminate.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck very long and slender. Body slender and compressed. Feet very long; tibia elongated, its lower half bare, very slender, covered all round with angular scales, of which the posterior are large; tarsus elongated, slender, compressed, anteriorly covered with numerous broad scutella, laterally and behind with angular scales. Toes long, slender, with numerous broad scutella above, flattened and reticularly granulate beneath. Claws rather long, arched, compressed, acute, that of hind toe much larger and more curved, the inner edge of that of the third finely and regularly pectinate.

Space between the bill and eye, and around the latter, bare. Plumage soft, thin, and blended. Feathers of the upper and hind part of the head very long, linear, with loose barbs; of the sides of the neck loose and inclined obliquely backwards, of its lower part much elongated, narrow, and tapering to a point; of the middle of the back extremely long, linear, acuminate, their tips projecting about five inches beyond the tail. Wings long, and very broad; primaries broad, tapering, and rounded, the first, second and third almost equal, the latter being only a twelfth of an inch longer; secondaries broad and rounded; some of the inner only half an inch shorter than the longest primary, when the wing is closed. Tail very short, small, even, of twelve rather weak feathers.

Bill ultramarine blue at the base, gradually shaded into black towards the point; the bare space between it and the eye, as well as the edges of the eyelids, ultramarine. Iris pale yellow. Legs, tarsi, toes, and claws, black. Head and neck of a rich deep purple, inclining to vinaceous; the lower part of the neck and all the other parts deep greyish-blue, the edges of the feathers lighter.

Length to end of tail 24 1/2 inches, to end of wings 25, to end of elongated dorsal feathers 26 1/2, to end of claws 30 3/4; wing from flexure 11 1/2; tail 4 2/12; extent of wings 42; bill along the ridge 3 4/12 along the edge of lower mandible 4; bare part of tibia 2 2/12; tarsus 3 5/12; first toe 11/12, its claw 2/12; middle toe 2 1/4, its claw 7/12. Weight 1 lb.

The female is similar to the male, but smaller. Weight 11 oz.

The young are at first sparely covered with yellowish-white down. When a fortnight old, the bill is yellow, with the tips greenish-black; the feet greenish-yellow, the claws dusky, with the tips greyish-yellow. The general colour of the plumage is pure white, but the down which tips the feathers of the head is brownish-white; two of the alular feathers are tinged with dull bluish-grey, and the outer seven or eight primaries are broadly margined on both sides to the length of about an inch and a half with the same colour of a deeper tint, the extreme tip white.

When fully fledged, the bare parts at the base of the bill, and the basal half of the upper mandible, are light greenish-blue, the rest black; the lower mandible yellow, with a patch of black, an inch and a quarter in length on each side at the end. Legs, tarsi, and toes greenish-blue, the sides yellowish; claws dusky. The feathers of the head are slightly elongated; those of the back are also elongated, but much broader and shorter than in the adult. The feathers on the upper part of the head are of a faint bluish-grey; and the alular feathers and eight outer primaries are tinged with the same colour. At this period, the length to the end of the tail is 22 inches, to end of claws 28 1/2; bill along the ridge 2 7/8; wing from flexure 11; tail 4 2/12.

In November, when the moult is advanced. The bill is black, dull blue at the base. The feet are nearly black, as are the claws. The occipital feathers are now two inches and a half in length, and some of the dorsal feathers extend as far as the tips of the wings; those of the lower part of the neck have also a length of about three inches. The general colour of the plumage is white; the upper part of the head, the hind neck, back, anterior edge of the wing, and outer primaries at the end, of a faint bluish-grey tint; some of the elongated feathers of the back darker.

Length to end of tail 22 inches; to end of claws 29 1/2; bill 3; wing from flexure 11 1/4.

A year old. Bill nearly as in the adult; feet bluish-black, the plumage is white, with the upper parts pale greyish-blue as in November, but the whole interspersed with numerous feathers of a deep greyish-blue, similar to that of the adult; the primaries and tail being still white.

Length to end of tail 23 1/4; extent of wings 32 1/2; bill 3 1/8. Weight 9 oz.