A few days after, another incident occurred to our voyageurs, which
illustrated the habits of a very interesting bird, the "osprey," or
fish-hawk, as it is more familiarly known in America.
The osprey (_Falco halicetus_) is a bird of the falcon tribe, and one of
the largest of the genus--measuring two feet from bill to tail, with an
immense spread of wing in proportion, being nearly six feet from tip to
tip. It is of a dark-brown colour above, that colour peculiar to most
of the hawk tribe, while its lower parts are ashy white. Its legs and
bill are blue, and its eyes of a yellow orange. It is found in nearly
all parts of America, where there are waters containing fish, for on
these it exclusively feeds. It is more common on the sea-coast than in
the interior, although it also frequents the large lakes, and lives in
the central parts of the continent during summer, when these are no
longer frozen over. It is not often seen upon muddy rivers, as there it
would stand no chance of espying its victims in the water. It is a
migratory bird, seeking the South in winter, and especially the shores
of the Great Mexican Gulf, where large numbers are often seen fishing
together. In the spring season these birds move to the northward, and
make their appearance along the Atlantic coast of the continent, where
they diffuse joy into the hearts of the fishermen--because the latter
know, on seeing them, that they may soon expect the large shoals of
herring, shad, and other fish, for which they have been anxiously
looking out. So great favourites are they with the fishermen, that they
would not knowingly kill an osprey for a boat-load of fish, but regard
these bold fishing birds in the light of "professional brethren." In
this case the old adage that "two of a trade never agree" is clearly
contradicted. The farmer often takes up his gun to fire at the osprey--
mistaking it for the red-tailed buzzard (_Buteo borealis_) or some other
hawk, several species of which at a distance it resembles--but, on
discovering his mistake, brings down his piece without pulling trigger,
and lets the osprey fly off unharmed. This singular conduct on the part
of the farmer arises from his knowledge of the fact, that the osprey
will not only _not_ kill any of his ducks or hens, but that where he
makes a settlement he will drive off from the premises all the hawks,
buzzards, and kites, that would otherwise prey upon the poultry. With
such protection, therefore, the osprey is one of the securest birds in
America. He may breed in a tree over the farmer's or fisherman's door
without the slightest danger of being disturbed in his incubation. I
say _his_ incubation; but the male takes no part in this domestic duty,
further than to supply his loved mate with plenty of fish while she does
the hatching business. Of course, thus protected, the osprey is not a
rare bird. On the contrary, fish-hawks are more numerous than perhaps
any other species of the hawk tribe. Twenty or thirty nests may be seen
near each other in the same piece of woods, and as many as three hundred
have been counted on one little island. The nests are built upon large
trees--not always at the tops, as those of rooks, but often in forks
within twenty feet of the ground. They are composed of large sticks,
with stalks of corn, weeds, pieces of wet turf, and then lined
plentifully with dry sea-grass, or any other grass that may be most
convenient. The whole nest is big enough to make a load for a cart, and
would be heavy enough to give any horse a good pull. It can be seen,
when the woods are open, to an immense distance, and the more easily, as
the tree upon which it is built is always a "dead wood," and therefore
without leaves to conceal it. Some say that the birds select a dead or
decaying tree for their nest. It is more probable such is the effect,
and not the cause, of their building upon a particular tree. It is more
likely that the tree is killed partly by the mass of rubbish thus piled
upon it, and partly by the nature of the substances, such as sea-weed in
the nest, the oil of the fish, the excrement of the birds themselves,
and the dead fish that have been dropped about the root, and suffered to
remain there; for when the osprey lets fall his finny prey, which he
often does, he never condescends to pick it up again, but goes in search
of another. Boys "a-nesting" might easily discover the nest of the
osprey; but were they inclined to despoil it of its three or four eggs
(which are about the size of a duck's, and blotched with Spanish brown),
they would find that a less easy task, for the owners would be very
likely to claw their eyes out, or else scratch the tender skin from
their beardless cheeks: so that boys do not often trouble the nest of
the osprey. A very curious anecdote is related of a negro having
climbed up to plunder a nest of these birds. The negro's head was
covered with a close nap of his own black wool, which is supposed by a
certain stretch of fancy to have the peculiarity of "growing in at both
ends." The negro, having no other protection than that which his thick
fur afforded him, was assailed by both the owners of the nest, one of
which, making a dash at the "darkie's" head, struck his talons so firmly
into the wool, that he was unable to extricate them, and there stuck
fast, until the astonished plunderer had reached the foot of the tree.
We shall not answer for the truthfulness of this anecdote, although
there is nothing improbable about it; for certain it is that these birds
defend their nests with courage and fury, and we know of more than one
instance of persons being severely wounded who made the attempt to rob
them.
The ospreys, as already stated, feed exclusively on fish. They are not
known to prey upon birds or quadrupeds of any kind, even when deprived
of their customary food, as they sometimes are for days, on account of
the lakes and rivers, in which they expected to find it, being frozen
over to a later season than usual. Other birds, as the purple grakles,
often build among the sticks of the osprey's nest, and rear their young
without being meddled with by this generous bird. This is an important
point of difference between the osprey and other kinds of hawks; and
there is a peculiarity of structure about the feet and legs of the
osprey, that points to the nature of his food and his mode of procuring
it. His legs are disproportionately long and strong. They are without
feathers nearly to the knees. The feet and toes are also very long, and
the soles are covered with thick, hard scales, like the teeth of a rasp,
which enable the bird to hold securely his slippery prey. The claws,
too, are long, and curved into semicircles, with points upon them almost
as sharp as needles.
I have stated that an incident occurred to our party that illustrated
some of the habits of this interesting bird. It was upon the afternoon
of a Saturday, after they had fixed their camp to remain for the
following day. They had landed upon a point or promontory that ran out
into the river, and from which they commanded a view of a fine stretch
of water. Near where they had placed their tent was the nest of an
osprey, in the forks of a large poplar. The tree, as usual, was dead,
and the young were plainly visible over the edge of the nest. They
appeared to be full-grown and feathered; but it is a peculiarity of the
young ospreys that they will remain in the nest, and be fed by the
parent birds, until long after they might be considered able to shift
for themselves. It is even asserted that the latter become impatient at
length, and drive the young ones out of the nest by beating them with
their wings; but that for a considerable time afterwards they continue
to feed them--most likely until the young birds learn to capture their
finny prey for themselves.
This Lucien gave as a popular statement, but did not vouch for its
truth. It was not long, however, before both he and his companions
witnessed its complete verification.
The old birds, after the arrival of the voyageurs upon the promontory,
had remained for some time around the nest, and at intervals had shot
down to where the party was, uttering loud screams, and making the air
whizz with the strokes of their wings. Seeing that there was no
intention of disturbing them, they at length desisted from these
demonstrations, and sat for a good while quietly upon the edge of their
nest. Then first one, and shortly after the other, flew out, and
commenced sailing in circles, at the height of an hundred feet or so
above the water. Nothing could be more graceful than their flight. Now
they would poise themselves a moment in the air, then turn their bodies
as if on a pivot, and glide off in another direction. All these motions
were carried on with the most perfect ease, and as if without the
slightest aid from the wings. Again they would come to a pause, holding
themselves fixed in mid-air by a gentle flapping, and appearing to
scrutinise some object below. Perhaps it was a fish; but it was either
too large a one, or not the species most relished, or maybe it had sunk
to too great a depth to be easily taken. Again they sail around; one of
them suddenly arrests its flight, and, like a stone projected from a
sling, shoots down to the water. Before reaching the surface, however,
the fish, whose quick eye has detected the coming enemy, has gone to the
dark bottom, and concealed himself; and the osprey, suddenly checking
himself by his wings and the spread of his full tail, mounts again, and
re-commences his curvilinear flight.
After this had gone on for some time, one of the birds--the larger one,
and therefore the female--was seen to leave off hunting, and return to
the nest. There she sat only for a few seconds, when, to the
astonishment of the boys, she began to strike her wings against the
young ones, as if she was endeavouring to force them from the nest.
This was just what she designed doing. Perhaps her late unsuccessful
attempt to get them a fish had led her to a train of reflections, and
sharpened her determination to make them shift for themselves. However
that may be, in a few moments she succeeded in driving them up to the
edge, and then, by half pushing, and half beating them with her wings,
one after the other--two of them there were--was seen to take wing, and
soar away out over the lake.
At this moment, the male shot down upon the water, and then rose again
into the air, bearing a fish, head-foremost, in his talons. He flew
directly towards one of the young, and meeting it as it hovered in the
air, turned suddenly over, and held out the fish to it. The latter
clutched it with as much ease as if it had been accustomed to the thing
for years, and then turning away, carried the fish to a neighbouring
tree, and commenced devouring it. The action had been perceived by the
other youngster, who followed after, and alighted upon the same branch,
with the intention of sharing in the meal. In a few minutes, the best
part of the fish was eaten up, and both, rising from the branch, flew
back to their nest. There they were met by the parents, and welcomed
with a loud squeaking, that was intended, no doubt, to congratulate them
upon the success of their first "fly."