only in pairs, seldom more than a half-dozen paired individuals being
found in any square mile of territory. During the short period which
elapses before building operations are begun, which lasts from three to
four weeks, they occupy the time in feeding, in dusting themselves by
the roadside, or in the enjoyment of each other's society.
Few species display, where undisturbed, greater confidence in man. It
visits the farm-yard and consorts with the poultry, partaking of their
food, and even repairs to the drinking-places of the cattle for water.
In many localities it courts rather than shuns human society, and exists
in a semi-domesticated state. While some of these birds thus deport
themselves, others manifest much shyness, and keep away from the
habitations of man. But these will mostly be found to be young birds,
which have not been able to fling off the timidity which they have
probably inherited.
A few years ago, in Eastern Pennsylvania, it was a rare occurrence to
find a nest of this species in close proximity to houses. Nowadays it is
seldom that one can be found remote therefrom. The kindly spirit
which the humane farmer has been wont to show towards the species has
doubtless been productive of these happy results. It is an astonishing
fact, and one that is worthy of being recorded, that mischievous boys
who have a penchant for disturbing the homes of other birds, for some
unaccountable reason, permit these gentle creatures to pursue their
household duties without fear or trouble. Perhaps their unassuming,
trustful disposition, placid demeanor, and winning ways, have the effect
of softening-rugged human natures, and thus securing them deserved
respect. When the subject of our sketch is better known, it is
gratifying to think, that much of the same spirit of kindness and mercy
will be evinced elsewhere.
Having spent a few weeks in luxurious living and pleasure, and the
season of house-keeping being nigh at hand, these birds forsake their
accustomed haunts, abandon the epicurean lives which they have been
leading, come, more and more into each other's society, and, at last,
are brought to confer together on the important business which has
called them away from their genial Southern homes. Though carried on in
a tongue which is a stranger to our own, the object and meaning of the
conference are not entirely enigmatical to us. The language of gestures
which accompanies their dark sayings, supplies in a measure the key to
the mystery, and enables us to judge thereof with tolerable accuracy.
The conference being over, there is no longer any doubt of the motives
which inspired it. But before starting on this important mission of
selecting a home-spot, the male must needs congratulate his loving
mate on the success of the interview, and renew his pledges of love and
fidelity. With dignified carriage and stately tread he parades himself
before her, uttering all the while, in sad and plaintive tones, which
poorly comport with his happy, sportive demeanor, his peculiar but
unmistakable _ah-côô-rôô-côô-rôô_. These syllables are repeated in rapid
succession, and often for three or four minutes at a time. During
the intervals of nesting, and not unfrequently while oviposition and
incubation are going on, the male is known to utter the same sounds; but
when the trying duties of parentage demand his attention, he has neither
the time nor the inclination to indulge in such pastime.
In the selection of a building-spot, but little discrimination is
exercised. Almost any locality will answer the purpose. Generally an
orchard, a pine-grove, a grain-field, or a swamp is chosen. With some
the position seems to be of little moment, as nests are often found upon
the tops of rail-fences, on stumps, in bushes, in depressions of the
ground, as well as on trees. When an orchard is selected, the apple is
preferred to any other fruit-tree. But in the East, the various species
of pines outside of orchards are in supreme demand. In Texas, the
mesquite tree is made to do service; while in California, according to
Dr. J. G. Cooper, the willow and live oak. On the Plains, however, where
there is a scarcity of trees, we are told that the nests are placed on
the ground, and even, in some instances, in hollows in the sand,
with the merest apology of a nest visible. Occasionally, in Eastern
Pennsylvania, the structure is placed in a shallow depression, alongside
of an unfrequented path, or in the centre thereof. Experience teaches
that such situations are mostly the choice of young birds, or more
properly speaking, of birds of the past season. Such sites have
certainly some advantage over arboreal ones, for the obvious reason
that much valuable time and labor are thus saved in the construction of
nests. On the other hand, there is this disadvantage--namely, that they
expose the inmates to the attacks of snakes and nocturnal animals of a
predatory character, more so than those built upon bushes and trees.
In the building of a home both birds labor jointly. The male, for the
sake of variety, often fetches the materials to his partner, which she
adjusts. But generally each bird gathers the pieces for itself, and
arranges them according to its own notions of beauty and symmetry.
The time spent in the work seldom exceeds two days. Under favorable
circumstances, and with praiseworthy diligence upon the part of
the architects, the work could be done inside of a day. Many of the
ground-structures, which, at the best, are but a few dry grasses loosely
piled together, are only the labor of a few hours. Judging from the
simplicity of the fabric, and the lack of design manifested, it ought
not to require much time; but we must recollect that the birds are not
continually occupied with the task during the day, and also that they
are comparatively slow mechanics.
The nest is usually placed upon a wide, horizontal limb, with partially
vertical branches on all sides, or between a crotch formed by a smaller
twig meeting a larger one. The height above the ground varies from five
to thirty feet, but most nests are placed at elevations ranging from
eight to fifteen feet. Ordinarily these structures are composed of small
twigs, chiefly pine, gathered from the ground. The pieces are scarcely
more than one-fourth of an inch in thickness, and about four inches in
length. In position they repose in layers arranged crosswise, and with a
small downward tendency, so as to cause a central depression. Sometimes
the first pieces are perfectly level for the space of an inch or more,
and the necessary inclination is given to the topmost layers, which are
made to dip towards the centre of the nest. Basally, the structure is
four inches wide, but gradually increases to four and a half at the top.
The height is two and a half inches, and the depth of the cavity often
less than a half inch, and so shallow that the superior surfaces of
the eggs actually extended above the level of the outside margin. So
superficial is the cavity, in some cases, that the eggs and young
are often jostled upon the ground when the wind blows with more than
ordinary velocity. To obviate this difficulty, as much as possible, a
tree is often chosen on the southern aspect of a hill, or in a place
carefully protected by natural or artificial defences. From the elevated
nest the ground-structure differs immaterially. This difference is to
be observed not in size, nor in the manner of construction, but in
composition. All nests which we have seen from places both east and
west of our great central mountain system, have the ground-work of
grass-stems, stubble, etc., loosely arranged, and are lined with fine
culms and leaves of soft grasses. In the Plate the nest is considerably
reduced, placed in the background, and on a branch of a species of
pine. The female is also diminished, and represented as engaged in the
duties of incubation; whereas the male, owing to his beauty of form and
plumage, is given special prominence, and appears three-fourths of his
natural dimensions.
In the Gulf States, Louisiana especially, according to Mr. Audubon,
nesting generally begins in April, and sometimes as early as March. In
Pennsylvania, frequently as early as the fifteenth of the former month,
except in seasons which are unusually backward, when this important
business is delayed until May. The fifteenth of this month marks the
time in New England. In Illinois, and other Western States, it begins in
early April, while along the Pacific coast, the period ranges from the
first to the twentieth of May. Two broods are annually raised in most
localities. The second does not, it seems, appear at any regular time,
but may no show itself as early as the fifteenth of June, or as late as
the middle of September, or during any intermediate period.
The nest being prepared for occupancy, on the ensuing day the female
commences to deposit her first egg. This is followed by a second on the
next day, when further efforts in this direction cease, and incubation
at once proceeds. This lasts for fourteen days, and is chiefly the task
of the female. Although the male occasionally takes the nest, yet
his principal duty is to supply his mistress with food. When not thus
occupied, he is seldom observed on the same tree, but stations himself
close-by, where he is ready at all times to answer to her summons.
Should the nest be approached by human enemies, the female makes
no effort to protect it, but vacates in a. hurry, and silently
contemplates, from a stump, or fence-rail, in the immediate vicinity,
the intended desecration. The male, however, is more timid, and surveys
the scene with the same quiet, sorrow-stricken expression, but from a
safe distance. A few days of lamentation, and their troubles are in a
measure forgotten. The disappointed couple, if the season be not too far
advanced, not to be frustrated in their plans, now seek other quarters,
where they hope to achieve the object of their mission in peace and
prosperity. In places where the nest is not interfered with, the same
spot is chosen on each return of the breeding-season.
There is one feature about these birds that should not be passed over.
We refer to their fidelity. Unlike many females, our lady-bird disdains
the meaningless flirtations which characterize the actions of so many of
our smaller insessorial birds about the mating-time. In no way does
she encourage the attentions of other birds, nor will she even tolerate
them. The male is not behind his partner in this particular. To show his
appreciation of her, a dozen times a day he comes before her presence,
parades himself backward and forward in front of her admiring gaze,
trails his wings, and, ever and anon, puffs himself up to more than
his ordinary capacity. Assured of her pleasure, he temporarily abandons
these pompous manouvres, and manifests his regard for her by thrusting
his bill into her mouth and discharging therein the contents of his
crop.
The love which the male lavishes upon his mate, is none the deeper and
intenser than that which the sexes bestow upon their offspring. Few
birdies are objects of more special regard upon the parental part. From
morning until night the parents are constantly on the search for some
racy _tidbit_ to gratify their fastidious appetites. Beetles, spiders,
and such like, which are savory articles of meat to a Robin and
Bluebird, are not considered fit for these dainty creatures, who must
needs be nurtured with food of a more kingly nature. Prepared food, as
rich, as nutritious, doubtless, as the honey which the Brazilian Fairy
imbibes from painted tulip and chaliced lily, are their portion. Nature
does not prepare it as she does the nectar of flowers, and offer it up
to their toothsome appetites, but she has endowed the authors of their
being with the power so to do. Deep down in the innermost recesses of
their bosom exists a churn, which learned men call the _crop_, and here
it is prepared. This tempting food consists of a lacteous secretion and
the macerated materials of the crop. Its preparation is the work not of
the female exclusively, but of both parents. The method of feeding is
quite interesting, and after the fashion of the common domestic pigeon.
As in this case, either parent thrusts its bill into the mouth of the
young, and by a process of regurgitation, forces the contents of its
crop into the stomach of the latter. Nor does their food consist always
of such a substance, but only during the first five or six days of their
existence, for at the expiration of this time, various caterpillars of
the measuring-worm family, and other smooth-skinned larvæ, are gathered,
and after being completely killed and mashed, are fed to their rapacious
appetites. When seventeen days old, the young are able to leave the
nest. They are not, however, ready to seek their own fortunes until a
fortnight later. Strange to say, the nest-full usually contains a bird
of each sex--a beautiful and wise provision of Nature.
Having attained to maturity, the young still linger with the parents in
the old, familiar haunts, until the season for departure arrives--about
the middle of September--when they leave together. It is nothing
uncommon to find several families associating with each other, forming
some sort of society, in which the most perfect harmony and good-will
prevail.
When captured, either in the young or adult stages, and confined within
cages, these birds soon become reconciled to their lot, and make quite
agreeable pets. They quickly recognize their keepers, and learn to come
at their call. As to the matter of raising them, there does not seem
to be any great difficulty. The different kinds of bird-seeds, rape
and canary especially, being very nutritious, can be fed to them with
splendid results. When vegetation is in season, chick-weed, grasses, and
the tender leaves of the common cultivated salad, will be found equally
successful. Care must be taken to see that they are also provided with
plenty of gravel and fresh water. In confinement as many as four broods
have been known to be raised. In his interesting volume on the "Birds
and Seasons of New England," Mr. Flagg gives his experience. When a
boy he came into possession of one of these birds. At the time of its
capture, it was nearly ready to fly. A strictly farinaceous diet enabled
him to bring it to maturity. As it grew, it became very tame, and
resembled in its actions the young of a domesticated Dove. This bird
was always allowed to wander at will. When hungry, it would fly off to a
distance, and having satisfied the demands of its being, would regularly
return to its accustomed quarters. At length it grew so docile, that it
would often fly to its master and sit upon his hand. Other instances of
a similar character might be mentioned, many of which have come under
our own immediate observation, but we forbear.
The eggs of this Dove are of an elongated oval form, nearly symmetrical
at each end, and of a pure-white color. A clutch from Pennsylvania
measures respectively 1.18 by .87 and 1.20 by .88 of an inch. Specimens
from Texas, California and Maine manifest not more than ordinary
variations of size. The largest egg, out of four sets which were sent to
us from the Pacific coast, has a length of 1.21 of an inch, and a
width of .86; the smallest, .97 by .84 inches. The same difference holds
reasonably true with respect to samples from other localities.
[Illustration: 178]
Plate XX.--TINNUNCULUS SPARVERIUS, (Lnn.) Vieillot.--Sparrow Hawk.
|The Sparrow Hawk is the handsomest of American birds of prey. Few small
species are more active in the pursuit of quarry, and none more friendly
and sociable in their intercourse with man. It receives its common name
from the fringilline character of its fare, our various Sparrows forming
a no inconsiderable portion thereof.
From Maine to California, and from Hudson's Bay to the Mexican
possessions, these birds abound in greater or less abundance, but are
notably scarce, or entirely wanting, in the Arctic regions of British
America, and in our newly acquired territory of Alaska. The highest
points which they have been supposed to reach are Fort Resolution, on
Great Slave Lake, and Fort Rae. Throughout nearly the whole of this vast
region they undoubtedly summer, and spend the time in the rearing of
families.
Within the United States the species is a _rara avis_ in some places,
and a very abundant one in others. In the vicinity of Calais, Maine, it
is quite common, which is otherwise the case in Eastern Massachusetts,
although in the western parts of the latter State, birds have been
known to breed. In the Middle Atlantic States, New York and Pennsylvania
especially, it is a not uncommon occurrence to find it in great plenty,
often as many as a dozen paired individuals being seen within a single
square mile of territory. Throughout the West, but more particularly
in the canyons of the eastern range of the Humboldt Mountains, Ridgway
attests to its abundance, and also to its disposition to nest in hollows
of limestone cliffs.
On the approach of winter these birds desert the northern and middle
sections of our country, and mostly retire to warm southern latitudes
beyond Virginia. According to Mr. Samuels, they are permanent residents
of the lower districts of New England, although but slightly so in cold
weather, if the observations of other writers of equal prominence are to
be relied upon. In Florida they are found at all seasons, but mostly in
the higher latitudes of the State during the breeding-season. West of
the Rockies, and in the region watered by the "Father of Waters" and
its numerous tributaries, they are probably but transient occupants; yet
there seems to be no strong reason why they should not find comfortable
winter-quarters in Southern California and in the regions situated
between the same isothermal lines. When the Western history of this
species has been more closely studied, this will doubtless prove the
case.
The period of migration in the Middle Atlantic States seems dependent
upon climatic influences. When the season is tardy by reason of long,
cold winters, the birds do not arrive until after the middle of April;
but when the weather is fine, and the prospect favors a continuance
thereof, they ordinarily make their appearance early in the month. In
New England, doubtless somewhat later, if the time of laying forms any
argument upon which to base a conclusion.
Upon its arrival in the vicinity of Philadelphia, the species takes up
its abode in old orchards chiefly, where it can be convenient to the
homes of man. While here it destroys immense numbers of field-mice
and noxious insects, and is certainly one of our foremost feathered
benefactors. To be sure it will destroy a few young chickens
occasionally, by way of changing the monotony of its life, but the
immense good which it otherwise accomplishes, should induce humanity to
throw a veil over its thoughtlessness and imprudence, and extend to it a
cordial welcome. So small a bird could hardly perpetrate much mischief,
and therefore should not be dreaded. Its many visits to the farm-yard
are not made solely with the view of depredating upon the poultry,
but for the purpose of feeding upon the vermin which infest the
out-buildings, and which are so destructive to the garnered grain. These
visits should be encouraged by all means. The adult chicken is too heavy
a burden for such apparently frail creatures to bear away, and as for
the young, they are generally too well guarded by the parent, to become
very easy victims. It is only when the chicks have been scattered, that
this Hawk has the audacity and hardihood to venture an assault upon the
brood. Unlike many species, our little friend does not pursue its prey,
but prefers to watch for it while perched upon a dead tree, or on a
projecting twig. Here, solitary and alone, it will remain for hours,
without perceptibly changing its position. The only motion visible at
the time, is a peculiar jerking of the tail, which seems to betray an
over-anxiety for something to turn up. A very common place of resort is
a clump of bushes, or a hedge-row. The abundance of small birds which
seek such situations being the cause of the attraction thither.
Thus the sexes keep apart from each other, and feast on the fat of the
land, until the latter part of April, or the beginning of May, when the
male, who is the first to abandon this selfish mode of life, desists
therefrom, though hardly without a great effort, and prepares to lead
the way by calling his partner from her near or far-off feeding-grounds.
Standing upon a dead branch in an open situation, he sounds his peculiar
call-note, at somewhat irregular intervals, and, anon, turns himself
round as though to catch the well-known response, or to see the
agreeable presence. For hours at a time he may be thus seen where
undisturbed by bird or man. If no reply is elicited, he darts away in
great hurry, and tries his fortunes elsewhere. This is usually the case
with young males. But with old birds the rule is different. They mostly
select the partners of past years, and there is always less formality
in renewals of plighted vows. The suits of the younger and more spirited
males are often attended with considerable difficulty. This arises
chiefly from the fickleness and waywardness of the young females, who
seem hard to woo, and who often indulge in cruel flirtations, much to
the annoyance of their respective suitors. These little pranks upon
their part are generally of short continuance, and soon decided one
way or the other. If settled in favor of the several actors, the latter
become highly elated, and give expression to their feelings in the most
ridiculous manner. The females now become as unwavering and devoted
in their fidelity and affection as they were before changeable and
whimsical. The period of courtship seldom exceeds two days at the
utmost. While it lasts, the birds make short tours around the country,
and on their return settle down to the prosy realities of wedded life. A
suitable spot must be selected for a home. Although both birds spend no
little time in searching for one, yet the matter is generally and wisely
left to the judgment of the female.
They are never known to construct homes for themselves, but make use of
hollow trees, Wookpeckers' holes, and often the old and forsaken nests
of the common Crow and the Gray Squirrel. A low, flat shelving of rock
beneath an overhanging bluff, in situations remote from the dwellings of
man, is not unfrequently chosen. But in' places immediately surrounding
him, and even within his precincts, unfinished stone-buildings and
pigeon-cotes are occupied, the latter much to the dread of their
rightful owners, who soon become reconciled to the glaring insult, and
live on friendly terms with their courageous neighbors. In Germantown,
Pa., many of these birds are accustomed to deposit their eggs in the
holes left by the removal of scaffolding from the walls of unfinished
buildings. In some instances, they are placed within a slight depression
produced by the removal of the mortar; but, generally, a thin covering
of leaves and grasses serves to relieve the roughness of the cavity.
In one case a rather dense bedding of moss made a soft and cozy lining.
Almost any tree that has been pressed into service by the Golden-shafted
Woodpecker, and made to answer as a receptacle for its eggs, is utilized
by the species under consideration. In an orchard, the apple is mostly a
favorite; while in other situations, the swamp maple and common chestnut
are as frequently occupied. Their height above the ground varies from
ten to fifty feet. In no cases have we discovered it below this figure,
and never above it. A nest found April 20th, 1881, near Rowlandville,
by William Wentz, in a decayed chestnut branch, was fifty feet from the
ground, and consisted entirely of dry grasses in quite limited quantity.
This is the earliest one ever found in this locality. Generally, the
nest is completed for oviposition during the last of this month, or the
beginning of the succeeding. My son, Alan F. Gentry, on the fourth of
May of the same year, met with one in a hollow branch of the chestnut,
in Germantown. This was placed about twenty feet up, in a cavity whose
width at the mouth was four and a half inches, and whose depth was nine
inches. It was lined with a few leaves and fragments of decayed wood,
and contained four eggs, which were partially incubated. Another
complement of eggs, five in number, before us, was found May 17th,
1880, near Granville, N. Y., by F. T. Pember, Esq. It was placed in an
isolated maple, about twenty feet from the ground, in what was once
the home of a pair of Flickers. The bottom of the cavity was lined with
straw and grass of last year's deposit, little, if any, fresh materials
being noticeable. The diameter of the base was seven inches, and depth,
twenty inches. The drawing represents a nest in a decayed branch of the
red maple. The female bird is considerably reduced, and placed on the
edge of the cavity, looking outwardly; whereas the male, in perfectly
erect attitude, and with dignified demeanor, stands on a bent branch,
at some distance from his home, engaged, as it were, in surveying the
surrounding scenery. He is shown in his jauntiest feathers, and with
his fair proportions diminished but one-fourth. Owing to the difficulty
encountered in figuring the eggs _in situ_, we have been compelled to
show a single specimen, the natural size, and on a tinted background
below and to the left of the picture.
The nest being ready, the female is not dilatory about laying. Unlike
most of the birds which we have previously described, she does not
deposit with much regularity. Sometimes the eggs are laid on consecutive
days, and, at other times, on each alternate day; never more than one
being deposited daily. This business being accomplished, the female
proceeds at once to incubate. After she has been thus occupied for a
varying period of time, seldom less than two hours at a sitting, she
summons her mate to her side, and resigns to him the laborious task
for a season. While one is on the nest, the other, when not in quest of
food, is on a tree in the immediate neighborhood, quietly on the alert.
If danger is imminent, the sitting-bird is apprised of the fact in time
to make its escape. This done, the two endeavor to protect their home
from pillage. As long as there is some prospect of frightening away the
depredators, they keep up the warfare with a good show of courage. But
when constrained to desist from the attack by the too near approach of
enemies, they do not forsake their home entirely, but choose a point
out of reach of harm, where they station themselves, and behold with
profound distress its demolition. In these attacks the female is the
superior of her masculine companion, and exhibits the most reckless
bravery. The latter is, however, more circumspect and cautious. But
should the enemy be a feathered species, and of superior physique, the
unequal warfare is waged with terrible fury, and often results in favor
of the defendants. Where not interfered with by man, these birds have
been known to visit the same locality year after year; but when meddled
with, they abandon the site for another of greater security. The period
of incubation ranges from fifteen to sixteen days.
The young are very helpless creatures when first hatched, and often tax
the patience and vigilance of the parents to the utmost in their efforts
to obtain for them a _quantum sufficit_ of nourishing food. Both birds
are seldom absent together on this important mission. While one
is abroad, the other remains at home, and exercises the strictest
surveillance. The food of the young at first consists of grasshoppers,
crickets, and caterpillars of the family of measuring-worms. Being rapid
growers, they are soon able to digest bits of small rodents and birds,
which the parents tear from the warm flesh of the quivering victims
which they hold in their talons. When four weeks old, parental
assistance is in a measure withdrawn, and they are forced to feed
themselves. A fortnight longer, they quit the nest, and receive their
meals while perched on the tree-branches. But it is not until they
attain an age of two months that they are entirely thrown upon their own
resources. They, however, continue to reside with their parents, but
for what length of time, we are unable to say. Like the latter, their
appetites are very fastidious, tainted and unsavory food being rejected
with disgust. When the young have vacated the nest, Audubon asserts
that the parents are known to imitate their feeble cries, as they travel
together in pursuit of game. Ordinarily, the cry of the adult birds is a
peculiar series of notes, which are pronounced in a very shrill manner,
and most difficult of imitation. It is said to resemble the call of the
European Kestrel, and would doubtless be mistaken for it, were it not
for its more powerful intonation.
When taken from the nest, these Hawks are readily domesticated, and make
very interesting pets. Audubon once reared a young bird, which he
kept about the house. At nights it would roost upon a favorite
window-shutter. In the daytime it would wander about the fields, where
it was often assailed by its wilder kindred. On these occasions, instead
of making a stand and resenting such uncivilized conduct, it would
invariably beat a precipitate flight to the house where it was sure of
finding protection. At length this poor bird was killed by an enraged
hen, one of whose chicks it was essaying to capture. While in Columbia,
South Carolina, Dr. Coues saw three of these birds in the possession of
a neighbor. They had been taken while quite young, and were perfectly
reconciled to their imprisonment. During early life they ate all kinds
of meat, but as they approached the age of maturity, they began to
display much of their natural disposition. When disturbed they would
show their displeasure by snapping the bill, and clutching at the
offending cane with their talons. Among the number there was a cripple
who was most dreadfully misused and bullied by his companions. One
night, being insufficiently fed or unusually irritable, they set upon
the poor fellow, killed him, and had nearly made way with him by the
returning morn.
The eggs of this species vary in number from four to seven, complements
of fives and sixes being oftener found than any other. In one case a set
of three was found by a friend of the writer's, but this was probably
exceptional in its character. The ground-color is never fixed, but
passes from a beautiful white, through a dark cream, into one that is
decidedly buff. In some specimens, under a glass of moderate power, the
ground is a perfectly uniform buff, but in others which appear to the
unaided vision of the same color, the lens reveals a whitish background
very densely covered with minute dottings. There is also noticeable
considerable variation in the markings. Three from a nest in
Philadelphia, with a pure-white ground-color, are marked with dottings
and blotches of light-brown, sparsely scattered over the greater portion
of their surfaces, excepting a space of the size of a dime about either
extremity, where a dark and almost continuous patch of reddish-brown
occurs, relieved by a few small spots of blackish-brown. These eggs are
nearly spherical, of the ordinary shape, and have an average measurement
of 1.38 by 1.14 inches. Another set, four in number, from near
Germantown, Pa., have a light-buff ground, and are completely covered
with fine markings of brown, and others of bolder spots of the same,
so as almost to conceal the color below. They average the same in
dimensions as the preceding, and are similarly shaped. A clutch of
five from Granville, N. Y., is the exact counterpart of the Germantown
specimens in every particular. All eggs which we have seen from New
England, the South, and the West, California in particular, though
subject to variations in size and ornamentation, are uniform as to
shape. The length usually varies from 1.32 to 1.49, and the width from
1.07 to 1.20 inches.
[Illustration: 188]
Plate XXI.--AIX SPONSA, (Linn.) Boie.--Wood Duck; Summer Duck.
|The Wood Duck, appropriately so named because it breeds in trees,
surpasses in elegance of plumage and gracefulness of action all North
American birds of its family. Although known by the name of Summer Duck,
from the fact of its remaining with us during the entire hot season, and
not journeying to the cold regions of the North as many of its brethren
are wont to do, it is however more commonly designated by the former
appellation. Few species are more highly esteemed by lovers of the
beautiful in Nature than this, and, where obtainable, it is one of the
first that finds its way into the private collection of the amateur
naturalist. But by epicures, it is considered as of rather inferior
standing, lacking the delicacy of flesh which makes the Green-winged
Teal and others of such immense gastronomic value.
Although truly an American species, it is more generally found
throughout the United States than any other, nesting wherever suitable
localities present themselves. North of the Potomac, and in the various
States situated above the parallel which cuts its head-waters, at least
so far as the country east of the Rocky Mountains is concerned, it is
chiefly a migrant, arriving towards the latter part of March, or the
beginning of April. South of this line, from Maryland to Florida, and in
a southwesterly direction through the Gulf States into Mexico, the birds
are found in more or less abundance during the entire year.
In the South Atlantic and Gulf States, they generally pair, we are told,
about the first of March, but in New England and the Middle States, in
favorable seasons, from the first to the fifteenth of April, perhaps
later; and in the country bordering on the Great Lakes, about the last
of May or the beginning of June. In Iowa, and other Western States of
the same latitude, from the fifteenth to the last of May.
Upon its arrival in our Northern States, remarkable to say, unlike many
of its numerous family connections, it seldom frequents the seashore, or
the adjoining salt marshes, but manifests a predilection for the ponds,
mill-dams, and deep muddy streams of the interior. The same is true of
its more southern breeding-grounds along creeks and bayous of the land
where the orange and palmetto charm the eye with perennial verdure.
During the interval of time between the appearance of these birds and
the renewal of their ancient vows at the accustomed trysting-place,
the sexes consort together in ever-varying flocks of fours or more, but
never in very large numbers, and fatten on acorns, the seeds of the wild
oats, and such insects as they can procure from the tree-branches, or
the muddy margins of the streams and ponds which they frequent.
On each recurrence of the mating season, there is reason for believing
that the same couple come together, and pledge anew the sincerity of
their fidelity, and the constancy of their affection, unless debarred
from so doing by death, or some other of the numerous vicissitudes to
which life is prone. The troth-plight being sealed, the happy lovers are
not slow in effecting a union. A few reciprocations of love, mutual and
sympathetic, and the _role_ is ended. But in cases where the male has
lost his partner, doubtless more time is devoted to this important
business. Much time is spent in seeking a suitable companion, and
even when the seeker is successful in finding one which combines the
necessary qualities, no little time is frittered away in rendering
himself agreeable to her lady's notions of what a husband should be,
for she not unfrequently acts as if she were possessed of some taste and
discrimination.
Having settled this important business, the newly-mated couple start off
in quest of a spot for the location of a home. In the case of old birds
the same locality has been known to be visited for four successive
years.
This doubtless is the rule where the birds are permitted to obey their
own natural instincts uninterfered with by beast or man. For obvious
reasons, these Ducks delight to live in close proximity to bodies
of water. Such places afford conveniences to the young when they are
sufficiently matured to betake themselves thither. Situations remote
from this element entail unnecessary labor upon the female, who is then
required, at considerable risk and trouble, to carry them one by one in
her bill. When the distance is not too great, and the ground beneath the
tree is well covered with dried leaves and grasses, the young scramble
to the mouth of the nest, drop themselves down, and under the maternal
leadership wend their way to the much-loved fluid. Often the tree or
stub which contains their home is found to overshadow the water. All
that is necessary then is for the tender creatures after reaching the
entrance, to spread their ill-feathered wings and oar-like feet, and
fling themselves down. This feat can be performed without jeopardy to
life or limb.
The site being agreed upon to the mutual satisfaction of the
parties concerned, all that is necessary to be done before going to
house-keeping, is to select a place for the nest. For this purpose,
almost any tree, or branch thereof, containing the essential hollow,
and located reasonably near some stream or expanse of water, can
be utilized. According to Audubon, "the holes to which they betake
themselves are either over deep swamps, above cane-brakes, or on broken
branches of high sycamores, seldom more than forty or fifty feet from
the water." Our experience, which is similar to Wilson's, is that these
birds do not have a partiality for any particular species. While
tree hollows are generally preferred, we have the authority of the
illustrious personages whose names we have just cited for saying that
such places are not exclusively chosen. The former claims to have met
with the home of a pair of these birds in a fissure of a rock, along the
Kentucky River, only a few miles from Frankfort; and the latter
speaks of having discovered one which was placed in a fork composed of
branches, and built out of a few rude sticks. In the South, the
forsaken retreat of the Gray Squirrel, or the hole of the Ivory-billed
Woodpecker, are common nesting-places. Often the entrance to the nest is
apparently so small compared with the bulk of the occupant, that it is
a matter of surprise to many how she can manage to make her way into it
without suffering bodily injuries. But she does, which is proof that she
knows either how to conform to circumstances, or else is a better judge
of size than many of us would-be-wise lords of creation. All structures
which we have examined were generally wide enough at the mouth to admit
of easy passage, and were from four to six feet deep. The bottom of the
cavity invariably consisted of soft decayed wood, and a few feathers
which were doubtless plucked by the bird from her own breast. Besides
these articles, other writers have observed dry plants, down, and
feathers of the Wild Turkey, Wild Goose, and the common barnyard fowl.
The height of the entrance above the ground varies from fifteen to
thirty feet, according to our experience. Possibly a less, or even a
greater elevation may sometimes be attained.
Wilson speaks of a nest which he observed in an old grotesque white oak.
It stood on a slope of one of the banks of the Tuckahoe River, in New
Jersey, just twenty yards from the water's edge, and had been occupied
for four consecutive years. At the time of his visit it contained
thirteen young birds, which the maternal head was engaged in carrying
down to the water to give them, perhaps, their first experience in the
natatorial art. So carefully, and yet so adroitly and quickly did
she perform this seemingly difficult task, that she was less than ten
minutes in its accomplishment. Although the male usually stands sentry
while the diverse processes of laying and sitting are going on, and
signals the approach of enemies by a peculiar cry which has been likened
to the crowing of a young cock--_oe êêh! oe êêk!_--yet from the silence
of one writer upon the subject, we infer that the duty of rearing
the rather numerous family is left to the mother, her proud and
consequential partner, as though disdaining such ignoble and degrading
because slavish work, being off with his gay companions, disporting
themselves in mid-air, or trimming, while perched upon some sheltering
bough, their rich and varied plumage. So intent, however, was the
mother-bird upon the faithful discharge of her joyous home-duties, that
she heeded not the stately sloop, then nearly completed, as it lay upon
the stocks close-by, with its hull looming up within twelve feet of her
home, darkened with the presence, and reverberating with the noise of
workmen, but continued to pass in and out as though unconscious of the
so near approach of danger. Audubon claims that the male deserts the
female when the period of sitting commences, and joins his sterner
brethren, who unite into flocks of considerable numbers, and keep apart
from their partners until the young are fully matured, when young and
old of both sexes come together, and thus remain until the return of
another breeding-season.
From what has been said above, it must be evident to the reader that the
female is wholly concerned with the duties of incubation. For a little
more than twenty-one days she is thus occupied, and with nothing to
relieve the monotony of her task. How often must she despair, and
bewail the hardship of her lot, no mortal knows. But it is the decree of
inexorable fate, and most willingly does she bow to it. But the ennui of
the labor is in a measure forgotten in the vision which hope holds
out to the patient little housewife. Weary, and well-nigh spent of
her strength, she persists a little while longer, and her patience and
assiduity are rewarded. A whole nest-full of happy ducklings gladden
her heart, and send a new thrill through her being. While the hatching
process is going on, the loving parent only leaves the nest when pressed
by the pangs of hunger, and but for a short time. Before leaving, she
always takes the precaution to see that her treasures are carefully
covered with down.
The young follow the mother the same as our domesticated species do, and
gather whatever of vegetable and insect food they happen to meet with.
They are passionately fond of the water, and best show their real nature
and disposition when gracefully floating upon its glassy surface, or
diving beneath its liquid depths. At an early age they respond to the
parent's call with a soft and mellow _pee, pee, pee-e_, which is uttered
quite rapidly, and at repeated intervals. The call of the mother,
when addressing the young, at such times, is rather low and soft, and
resembles the above sounds, only a little more prolonged.
These beautiful birds have often been domesticated. At such times
they become so unsuspicious and familiar as to allow themselves to be
stroked upon the back with the hand. Instances are on record. Such being
so, what is there to prevent the introduction of them into our yards?
Nothing. Then let it be tried. A glance at the picture will show that
no handsomer bird could be chosen. Look at the male as he stands upon an
embankment on the right of the picture ready at any moment, so it seems,
to plunge into the watery fluid below, and tell us if there is anything
more beautiful in the world of swimming-birds. We apprehend not. His
conspicuous size, some nineteen inches in length, and scope of wing of
two and one-third inches, make him a being of no mean proportions. But
then it is the richness and variety of his colors that render him an
object of attraction. Near the farther shore of the pond, with her
shadow reflected in the water, like a thing of grace, floats his loved
but less showy companion. She is nearly of the same size as he, but
wanting in the same dignity of demeanor. On the other side stands an old
tree, festooned with vines, which represents the nest of these birds,
with a female just in the act of entering.
The eggs of the Wood Duck range from six to thirteen to a setting.
Their shape passes from the ovate form to one that is nearly oval, and,
indeed, specimens are often found which are almost perfectly elliptical.
Eggs from Massachusetts measure 1.97 by 1.45 inches. Others from
Michigan, 2.21 by 1.54; and some from Maine, 2.10 by 1.54. A set of ten
from Iowa, but recently received, of a yellowish-white or creamy
color, which seems to be the natural hue, are beautifully elliptical
in contour, and have an average measurement of 2.08 by 1.59 inches; the
largest being 2.19 inches long, and 1.59 wide, and the smallest, 1.96 in
length and 1.63 in width.
[Illustration: 196]
Plate XXII.--PSALTRIPARUS MINIMUS, (Townsend) Bonaparte.--Least Tit.
|The Least Tit, introduced to the notice of ornithologists by Mr.
Townsend in 1837, is exclusively a denizen of the country bordering on
the Pacific Ocean. It inhabits the whole region stretching from Fort
Steilacoom, in Washington Territory, to Fort Tejon, in California.
According to Dr. Garnbel, it is not only abundant throughout California,
but is also an occupant of the Rocky Mountains. But as this author wrote
at a period anterior to that which marked the separation of this species
from its nearest kin--the Plumbeous Tit--it is believed by Dr. Coues
that those nice shades of difference which climate or other influences
have impressed upon the Rocky Mountain birds were unobserved by him, and
that he was thus led to consider the two species identical.
Although these birds have been deemed migratory in Washington Territory,
as the writings of Drs. Cooper and Suckley would lead us to infer, yet
there is strong evidence for believing that it is not wholly the case.
From observations made by Mr. Townsend, we learn that they are quite
common during the winter, and may be seen in great numbers hopping
around among the bushes, or hanging head downwards from leafless twigs
after the fashion of other Titmice. While thus engaged in search of
the pupa of insects, they are very reckless, and keep up a continual
twittering. Their notes are rapidly enunciated, and have been likened
to the words _thshish tslmt-tsee-twee_, the last two syllables bearing a
slight resemblance to the concluding strains of our Eastern Chickadee.
While gleaning for food, these noisy beings go in companies. Troops of
fifties and sixties, and some say hundreds, travel through the woods,
and make their otherwise cheerless depths resound with din and chatter.
Nor do they journey alone, for they are often accompanied by the
Kinglets and other kindred species. So intent are they upon the
procurement of food at such times, that they seem utterly unconscious of
danger. It is not uncommon for a bystander to be so surrounded by one of
these flocks as to be almost able to capture the birds with the hand.
Nuttall, in speaking of this species, affirms that it arrives on the
banks of the Willamette River, in Oregon, about the fifteenth of May,
which would lead one to believe that even in this State it is a
migrant. As this date is about the period of breeding in slightly lower
latitudes, may not this writer have been somewhat hasty in expressing
his opinion? In the East, birds that are reputed permanent residents
during mild, open winters, can be seen in moderate abundance in
accustomed haunts, and at all times. But let the weather become severe,
and there will be a notable scarcity of birds. They do not certainly
migrate to warmer regions, but seek hidden recesses or nooks where they
can obtain the necessary shelter and protection. A recurrence of warmer
days, after a little, soon causes them to return to old, familiar
haunts, which could not be, had they journeyed to lower and
semi-tropical climes. Perhaps some such event had occurred on the
occasion to which Nuttall alludes, or a short time before, or the birds,
by reason of a paucity of food-stuffs, may have been forced to move to
adjoining localities in the same latitude, and had just returned for
purposes of nesting. If such was the case, an eye-witness of the scene
would be likely to pronounce it a veritable migration, not knowing the
facts.
But whether these birds do actually migrate or not, matters little
for present purposes. What concerns us most, is their history at the
mating time. Of this we know little. But not unlike their many kin, the
desire for food is so strong, that most of the time in early spring is
spent in its search. The precarious lives which most migratory birds
are-forced to lead during the unprolific season of the year, when the
reign of plenty begins, forces them into habits of gormandizing.
Life seems to have acquired new zest. The collection of food, and its
application to the wants of the body, exercise supreme control, all
other considerations being swallowed up thereby. But this cannot last
long. Satiety, like pleasure, soon o'erdoes itself, and reason comes to
the rescue.
A few weeks of such a life are enough. Grown weary of its monotony, and
surfeited with delights, the flocks now dissolve into pairs. All is
now a scene of bustle and activity. Actuated by amatory influences, the
males seek themselves partners, and matrimonial relations are assumed.
There is good reason to believe that mating happens early during some
seasons. Dr. Cooper mentions the finding of a nest on the first of
March, which would lead us to infer that it had occurred during the
preceding month. Finished structures in our collection from Santa Paula,
California, which were discovered by Prof. B. W. Evermann, bear the
respective dates of April 14 and 17. Making allowances for building, it
is probable that the sexes do not pair until the middle or the last of
March. Of the precise time we are left in darkness. Nor are we the wiser
about the general behavior of the birds, much less those pleasing little
episodes of bird-life which are then called into existence.
Having mated, the happy couple start off together in quest of a suitable
bush or tree in which to build. The live oak, the willow, occasionally
the mistletoe, and perhaps others, are selected. These structures are
sometimes suspended from a forked twig, but more generally from a single
branch. A remarkable peculiarity about their building is the elevation
at which their dwellings are placed. The height varies from four
to eight feet, and we cannot find that the latter distance has been
exceeded.
Few nests, if any, surpass in beauty and comfort the nest of this
species. It is the most artistic of all pensile structures, and
resembles an old-fashioned silken purse. In form, texture and finish it
is a perfect model of architectural design and skill. When we consider
its size, the durability and smoothness of its outside periphery,
and coziness of interior, we are lost in wonder and admiration.
What ingenuity and perseverance are here displayed! It seems almost
impossible that such wee specimens of the feathered creation could have
built such a monument. But the naked truth, real and substantial, lies
before us. When we contemplate this wonderful work of art, we know not
whether to admire most the indefatigable industry of the builders, or
their cunning workmanship.
A typical structure before us is closely and evenly woven of slender
spears of grass, fine rootlets, fragments of branching and crustaceous
lichens, small stems, fibrous rootlets, down, vegetable cotton and
mosses. These substances are pretty regularly distributed, like
the colors in a carpet, so that the fabric presents uniformity in
appearance. The interior is lined with down and other soft vegetable
materials, producing thereby a chamber of which the daintiest Sybarite
of the palmy days of Magna Græcia would delight to be the proud
possessor. Some structures are cozily lined with large masses of
feathers, which are made to project from the entrance, and which, in
some instances, become a part of the walls of the building itself.
Ordinarily, the nest retains the greenish-gray color which the mosses
and lichens impart to its exterior, long after it has been detached from
its point of suspension. The length of these fabrics varies from six to
nine inches. The width is generally three inches, and the thickness of
the walls, three-fourths of an inch. Inside, the depth ranges from four
to five inches, according to the length of the structure, and width,
from seven-eighths to one inch. The entrance is most generally near
the top, and measures one inch in diameter. The specimen from which the
drawing is made, is six inches long, nearly cylindrical, with rounded
extremities, and about three inches in width. The walls are an inch
thick, and the opening, which is near the top, is exactly one inch in
diameter. For convenience we were compelled to reduce the dimensions,
and put it slightly in the background. The female bird, which has
a length of 4.30 inches, and an expanse of wings of 2.15, is
proportionally diminished, while the male occupies a position in front,
and appears with uncurtailed proportions. The nest is represented as
hanging from a branch, a species of cherry, which is popularly known as
the soft-leaved cherry.
We mention, in this connection, a very fine nest of this species, which
has lately come into our possession, through the kindness of Prof.
Evermann, of Indiana. This nest was suspended from a branch of the live
oak, and was discovered on the fifteenth of April, 1880. It is largely
composed of down, grass-stems and spears of the same, lichens, mosses,
vegetable down and cotton, on the outside, and is comfortably lined with
the down and wool of plants. In structure and composition it resembles
all other nests of this species, but differs therefrom in form and
dimensions. This beautiful fabric measures twenty-two inches in length,
and is somewhat shaped like an elongated spindle. It is three inches
wide in the middle, one and a half at the summit, and two and a half
at the base. The opening is three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and
placed fully five inches from the top of the nest. From the entrance to
the bottom of the chamber, the cavity does not perceptibly widen, but
maintains the width at the mouth. This affects the thickness of the
walls, which is greatest in the middle, and least above. But owing to
their elasticity, they can be made to conform to the volume of either
occupant. The depth of the cavity is twelve inches. When we consider
the size of this nest, it does not seem possible that such diminutive
specimens of bird-life could have the enterprise and courage to enter
into such a gigantic project, and the patience and perseverance to
carry it to completion. Prof. Evermann does not inform us whether it was
accomplished by the pair of occupants, or by them with the assistance of
others. Even the ordinary structure is so wondrously large compared with
the individual bulk of the builders, as to suggest to the mind of Dr.
Cooper the possibility of its being the result of the united labors of
an entire flock. What would our worthy friend say should he meet with
another just like the one we have described? We think he would be
inclined to attribute it to the labor of several flocks, or else imagine
it the work of supernatural beings. Such disparity as exists between
the cyclopean monument before us and the pigmy architects thereof, would
almost persuade us to one or the other conclusion.
From information gleaned from the recorded observations of others, and
from personal knowledge of closely-related species, we incline to the
opinion that these birds manifest a great fondness for their homes,
and guard them with the most jealous care. Nuttall makes mention of a
circumstance occurring under his notice, which confirms this belief.
During one of his excursions, he met with a male-bird, whose overanxiety
about the safety of the nest induced him to keep a lookout for anything
that might happen. Following his guide, who, though unwilling to expose
its whereabouts, was driven to it by an irresistible influence, he came
to a low bush, where, dangling from a branch, and only about four feet
from the ground, flashed upon his vision the lovely spectacle. It was a
beautiful affair, in shape like a long purse, and having a neat circular
opening near the top which answered for a doorway. The lint of plants,
moss and down entered into its manufacture, and within there was a soft
lining of feathers. This nest contained six perfectly white treasures,
which were only awaiting the mysterious and miraculous powers of a few
more days, perhaps hours, of heat, to transform them into restless,
active, yet helpless beings. When a bird is killed, we are told,
others will gather around it with manifestations of anxiety, calling
plaintively upon it to follow them in their sports and wanderings. So
fearless do they become at such times that it is almost possible to take
them by the hand. Assuredly, such exhibitions of sorrow and solicitude
as we have depicted, are not only to be met with then, but also, to an
infinitely greater extent, on those more trying occasions when their
homes are about being desecrated and despoiled by sacrilegious hands.
The eggs of the Least Tit are quite small, beautifully oval in shape,
and of a pure, unspotted white color. They slightly vary in dimensions.
In a set of five which we have before us, the largest measures .57 of
an inch in length, and .44 in width; the smallest, .56 by .45 inches.
The average measurement is .57 by .44 of an inch. The number of eggs
constituting a complement ranges from five to nine. Nothing has been
stated in regard to the number of broods annually raised, but it is
probable the species is single-brooded.
[Illustration: 204]
Plate XXIII.--CAPRIMULGUS VOCIFERUS, Wilson.--Whippoorwill.
|The Whippoorwill, in its migrations, passes from Mexico, Guatemala,
and, perhaps, Cuba, through the eastern parts of the United States,
northward into the British Provinces as far as the 50th parallel of
latitude, and from the Atlantic westward to the valley of the Missouri,
where it is replaced by a closely-allied species. Throughout New
England, the Middle States, and the Southern Atlantic region, the
Carolinas especially, it is rather abundant, and the same may be
affirmed of the western limits of its range. In New Brunswick and Nova
Scotia, lying outside of our possessions, it is met with but rarely;
whereas, in the vicinity of Montreal, and around Hamilton, it is far
from being an uncommon summer visitor. There seems to be a notable
scarcity of birds in Eastern Maine as we approach the Canadian
territory in the north-east. Why the species should dwindle into numbers
insignificant as the seaboard is neared, while in the contrary direction
it is apparently as abundant as in Pennsylvania, it is not our province
to speak with positiveness. Perhaps the somewhat different conditions
of soil and climate which prevail in the north-west have much to do with
this seeming preference. Unlike most species, the subject of our sketch
will, doubtless, when its history has been as carefully studied in
every part of its habitat as it has been in the East, be found to breed
throughout the vast area of its United States range.
These birds never arrive in old, familiar haunts until the weather has
assumed the mild, placid demeanor of spring, and everything points to
the complete vanquishment of the winter-god and his merciless hordes of
invaders. A chorus of strange, weird voices from the solemn depths of
the forest-shades, when night has thrown her sable curtain o'er earthly
landscapes, is the first reminder that we have of their mysterious
presence. Like an evil genius from the land of dreams they come among
us to disturb our slumbers by their lugubrious utterances. But in the
daytime, when all respectable beings, whether beast or man, do most
delight to be seen and heard, these sylph-like denizens of the air
shrink away to the uncertain shadows of the grove, where they spend
their time in sleep, or moody silence, or, mayhap, in the concocting of
ways to terrify poor, timid human beings. Coming down from these flights
of imagination to the prose of real life, we may truthfully say, that
they "love darkness rather than light." From the time of their first
appearance during the early nights of May until their departure in
August or September for the Gulf country and the land stretching
southward, they maintain the same shy and retired disposition,
concealing themselves from the glare of full-orbed day in close-set
forests among fallen leaves and underbrush, and only venturing out in
quest of food when the sun has sought his rosy couch beyond the Western
wave. With the setting of the day-star, and the stir of the myriads
of moths that now make night lively with their graceful motions and
riotings, these Night-jars, as they are sometimes appropriately called,
emerge from their hiding-places, and rejoice in wanton and luxurious
feasting. They are far from being the dull, stupid beings which we would
have been disposed to designate them only a few hours before. They
are now all nimbleness and grace. Watch them as they sail through the
bending, swaying ether as noiselessly as a thistle-down, and as
lightly as a balloon afloat, and tell us were there ever more graceful
creatures, and any better adapted to the purposes of their being? We
apprehend not. What a beautiful and nice adaptation of means to end is
here exemplified! Being designed and created to hold in check, in
common with others of their kin, the various and multitudinous swarms of
insects which fill the nocturnal atmosphere, the Wisdom that never errs
has given them a peculiar structure, and peculiar habits. They must
seek the darkness of night, and shun the light of day. And in order to
capture their prey without startling it, they must move on swift and
noiseless pinions, and with the greatest caution. Their prey often being
large, a wide gape of mouth is necessary. Everything, even down to the
minutest details of structure, declare their eminent fitness for the
part which they have to play in the _role_ of life.
Such a decided partiality has our friend for the lovely woods, that
he seldom forsakes its time-honored precincts for the open field. The
sombre shadows cast by the motionless or quivering leaves upon the
ground, and the melancholy streaks of light which fitfully play through
the spaces between them, combined with the dark colors of the leaves
that repose upon the soil beneath, produce a sort of gray and mellow
light which beautifully harmonizes with the sober tints of these birds,
and thus adds to their protection. In our travels we have frequently
surprised an individual in his slumbers only a few paces away. Alarmed
at this unexpected intrusion, the bird would wing its somewhat uncertain
flight on swift and noiseless pinions to a place a few hundred feet
distant, where it would alight upon a branch, or on the ground. After
indicating the spot by a fallen log, or an adjoining bush, we would
stealthily and quietly approach the place, straining our vision all the
while in hopes of gaining a glimpse of the squatting bird. But before
the desire could be gratified, the object of our search would become
apprised of our presence, and take to wing. Again and again we have made
the attempt to steal upon the bird unawares, but it invariably failed in
accomplishment, even when the greatest caution was observed. The means
which these birds employ for the detection of danger are both remarkable
and wonderful. The visual organs being ill-suited to the bright light
of day, and even the mellowed glow of the woods being seemingly too
powerful a stimulus, it certainly depends upon other functions than
those of sight. The sense of hearing being well-developed, may not this
function be called into requisition at such times?
The common appellation of this species is derived from the cry which it
emits at night. This cry has a slight resemblance to _whip-poor-will_,
but, by a fertile fancy, it can be construed into a variety of sounds.
The syllables are rapidly enunciated only when the bird is squatting on
a bush or fence, or any other object near the ground, but never while
in flight. It is always heard at night. As the day begins to dawn, it
measurably diminishes in frequency and intensity, and finally ceases
altogether. The absence of song while on the wing may be accounted
for by the fact that the birds are such vigorous feeders, and are so
absorbed with the business before them, that they have neither the time
nor the disposition to indulge in such pastime. Besides, the wide-open
position of the mouth which is assumed while sailing through the air, is
hardly one which would favor a free exercise of the vocal powers. When
in a restful state, the cry is perhaps the call which the sexes address
to each other, or it may be interpreted sometimes as the signal for the
resumption of the night's carousal after the day-sleep is over.
For nearly two weeks after their appearance the sexes, although already
paired, continue to sleep the daylight away, and spend the nighttime
in feasting and revelling. It is not until the middle of May that they
become alive to the business which has called them from the land of the
agave and loblolly-tree. With due diligence, and with but little time
spent in preliminaries, they seek themselves out a spot for a home,
where they construct, if at all, the merest apology of a nest. By a
prostrate and decayed log, usually where the deepest shadow prevails,
the female is wont to deposit her eggs. A slight concavity is ordinarily
scooped out by her, in Eastern Pennsylvania, and lined with decayed
wood or dried leaves. In other localities, and, to some extent, in the
writer's own State, she does not even go to this trouble, but deposits
her treasures, without thought-of what she is doing, upon the ground.
Whether they rest upon a few loose leaves, or on the bare earth, is
all the same to her. Having chosen her humble home, the female begins
immediately to lay her first egg. This is followed on the ensuing day by
another, and this completes her nest-complement. Incubation is at once
assumed by the lady-bird, and seems to be her exclusive business for the
space of fourteen or fifteen days. While she is thus occupied during
the day, her illustrious partner is seldom to be seen, although it
is possible that he is generally at no great distance from the spot,
quietly preparing for the night's adventures. Perhaps he is then more
considerate, and either sits upon the nest while his wife is away in
quest of food, or else acts the part of an affectionate and indulgent
husband, and conveys to her lonely chamber the necessary food
wherewith to strengthen her for the trying duty which she is engaged in
performing.
Few mothers manifest greater love for their children. She will often
imperil her own life in their behalf. Her vigilance is wonderful, and
the stratagems she practises to draw intruders away from her eggs and
young are almost unsurpassed by those of any of our feathered species,
excepting the female Maryland Yellow-Throat. On an occasion of
disturbance her actions are strange and curious. She flutters as if
mounded, beats the ground with her wings as though unable to rise, and
performs these movements so successfully as to deceive the most wary and
experienced collector. While thus seeking to divert attention from
her home, she has even been known to spirit her young away when danger
seemed imminent. Mr. Wilson cites a case that came under his own
observation. This writer once set to work to delineate a young bird.
Having accomplished the desired object, he left the spot, and, on
missing his pencil, retraced his steps. On arriving thither, to his
great surprise he discovered that the young bird had been carried away
to a place of safety, but by what means, he doubtless never learned.
The young leave the nest when they are about seven days old, and are
then able to move with considerable swiftness. At brief intervals, while
nestlings, they utter a low, plaintive note, which has been likened by
Nuttall to the syllables _pé-ugh_. A fortnight longer at home, under the
guardianship of the maternal head, prepares them for the stern realities
and cold charities of the outside world. They are now able to supply
themselves with food, although still members of the same household.
At first their food consists of caterpillars which are procured by the
parents from the leaves and branches of trees. The different species
of measuring-worms, and mature forms of noctuids and tineids among
lepidoptera, constitute a considerable portion of their diet. But as
they grow older, and are able to feed themselves, they devour immense
numbers of ants and grasshoppers. When first hatched, in their
helplessness, they depend for safety upon the close similarity which
obtains between them and their immediate surroundings.
The eggs of this species are elliptical, being nearly or quite equal
at both extremities. The ground-color is a pure creamy-white, and
is irregularly scratched and marbled all over with reddish-brown and
purplish-lavender lines and blotches, the former predominating. There
is considerable variation in the intensity of coloration, some specimens
being heavily marked, while others, from the faintness of the tracery,
appear bleached or faded. Eggs from New England measure from 1.21 to
1.26 inches in length, and from .75 to .78 in width; from the Middle
States they average 1.26 by .89; while specimens from the South and the
North-west offer no material differences in many particulars these
eggs resemble those of the Chuck-will's-widow, but are purer and more
beautiful. There is also a notable resemblance to the eggs of the two
European Goatsuckers, which is what the real scientist would naturally
expect. In the drawing, the eggs are represented the natural size, and
by the side of a fallen log. The male is considerably reduced, and may
be readily distinguished from his partner by the white collar of the
throat, and by his larger size. He measures ten inches in length,
and has an expanse of wings of six and a half inches. The female is
proportionally diminished, and is characterized by a light fulvous
gorget, and in the absence of the white patch of the tail.
[Illustration: 212]
Plate XXIV.--PHILOHELA MINOR, (Gmel.) Gray.--American Woodcock.
|The Woodcock is somewhat restricted in its distribution. In this
respect it differs from its numerous congeneric brethren, which have
a wide dispersion. It is chiefly a denizen of the eastern parts of
the United States, and of the British territory immediately adjacent
thereto. Fort Rice, in North-western Dakota, according to Coues, and
Kansas and Nebraska in the west, seem to be the limits of its range in
those directions. Although notable for its scarcity in regions beyond
the Mississippi, Iowa excepted, yet it abundantly compensates therefore
as we advance eastward. In the Middle and Eastern States they are
probably found in greater numbers than elsewhere. While the greater
bulk pass north to breed, some abide in the South, and raise their happy
little families, in spite of the ardor of the climate.
Few species, if any, arrive earlier. It generally appears from the fifth
to the tenth of March in New England and the Middle Atlantic States,
although instances are known where birds have been observed as early as
the twenty-fourth of February. These cases are, however, rare, and only
happen, if at all, when the weather has been remarkably propitious for a
lengthy spell. As a few of them have been known to remain all winter
in Pennsylvania, and elsewhere, when the season has been fine, may not
their emergence from sheltered localities, at such times, be construed
by persons who are not cognizant of their presence, or of their
occasional disposition to permanence of residence, as but a case of
recent arrival? In view of this latter habit, it would be difficult to
prove that the visitor had just come from the South, unless it had been
discerned _in transitu._
Having decided upon their migratory tour, they start in small companies,
from four to six in number. These settle down in small tracts of
country of a few rods in area on reaching their destination. Low, swampy
thickets generally invite their presence. Here they conceal themselves
during the day. But when night has dethroned her rival, and temporarily
assumed the reins of power, they come out of their grassy retreats,
and wander about in search of food. The setting of the sun behind the
western hill-tops is the signal for their nocturnal rambles to begin.
And well do they keep them up. For it is not until the first streak of
morning is seen to glow in the East that they abandon their foragings
and retire to accustomed haunts. Few there are who have visited these
birds at such times. Let us take our readers to yon neighboring swamp,
or by the side of some lowly woodland, which these strange beings
delight to frequent. The utmost silence must be maintained, or our
friends will be frightened away. While we may not be able to see the
objects that have called us hither, we know they are not far away by
the rustle which they produce among the dry leaves, and by the peculiar
notes which they emit, for there are two or three individuals together,
as they move restlessly about in the undergrowth, in their search for
worms. _Chip-per, chip-per, chip_ may be heard from the right, and
almost in the next instant it is varied to _bleat_ or _bleat ta bleat
ta_, produced in the contrary direction, or off in the distance, showing
that the authors thereof have changed their positions. While these birds
have an habitual fondness for humid thickets, they not unfrequently
betake themselves to corn-fields and other cultivated tracts in close
proximity thereto, and even to elevated woods.
For more than a fortnight after their arrival the sexes, though feeding
in company, do not apparently manifest a disposition to assume conjugal
relationship. The desire for food seems to be uppermost in their
minds. The inclemency of the weather, and the coldness of the ground
in consequence, may have much to do with holding the amatory forces
in check. But when the opportune moment arrives, which it does in the
course of events, the sexes stop from their feeding, in a measure, and
give the nobler instincts of their being a chance for development. The
males are the first to feel the changes which are being wrought in their
natures. For more than a week from this time, in the early morning
and evening hours, they may be seen exercising themselves by means of
"curious spiral gyrations" in mid-air, and uttering, as they descend
earthwards, a note which Audubon lias likened to the word _kwank_. This
note may be a call for the female in the spring, but as it is often
uttered in the fall after the breed-ing-season is past, it may also be a
summons for the gathering together of the members of the same household.
The production of these sounds seems to be a labor of much effort. The
movements of the bird then, must be seen to be appreciated. The head
and bill are bent forward until the latter comes into contact with
the ground, and, just as the sound is being emitted, the body is urged
violently forward. These spasmodic exertions being over, the actor in
this drama, twitches its abbreviated, halfspread tail, assumes an erect
attitude of listening, and, if no response is elicited, repeats its
characteristic cry, with all the accompanying movements. If the call
awakes an answering note, the happy lover flies to the presence of
the one he seeks, and lavishes upon her the most endearing caresses.
Sometimes, as Audubon affirms, the male awaits the arrival of the loved
one, and does not fly to meet her. According to the same authority, the
summons seems sometimes to be replied to by one of the same sex, which
is always the prelude to a fierce encounter between the two, for, on
these occasions, when the feelings are in a high state of tension, the
utmost enmity exists between the males. These contentions are usually
shortlived, and cease with the assumption of matrimonial relations.
The happiness of the male is now complete. With his homely, but,
doubtless, to him, prepossessing bride, by his side, he soon journeys
off in search of a home. This is a matter of some consequence, and
tasks the patience to the utmost. But their labors in this direction
are eventually crowned with success. They frequent the most secluded
resorts, and hide their nest away in some low, dense and swampy woods
or brake, difficult of access, and one that none but the cruel collector
would be likely to visit. The nest is generally placed on the ground, at
the foot of a bush or tussock, in the midst of small birches or alders,
or on a decayed stump or prostrate log. In some localities it is snugly
nestled in the midst of a meadow. It is not an elaborate affair by any
means, but merely consists of a few dried leaves or grasses which are
scratched together by the female--the work of a few hours at the most.
The domicile being ready for occupancy, the female soon commences to
deposit her beautiful treasures. One by one they are laid on consecutive
days, until her complement of three or four is reached. In the Southern
States, oviposition commences in March or February, while in the
northern limits of the range of this species, from the tenth to the
fifteenth of April; seldom later. Incubation is mutual, and so attentive
are the birds to the task, that it is an unusual occurrence to find them
both absent therefrom at the same time. When the female is sitting, her
partner improves the time by attending to the demands which hunger
makes upon him. The same is true of the female when she has resigned her
charge to the care of her noble and conscientious lord. So faithfully
do they keep to the nest, that nothing but the most menacing danger
will compel them to quit it. The approach of a team, or of a pedestrian,
within a foot of it, has not been known to startle them. But when the
danger is quite imminent, the sitting-bird slips out of it, and makes
its way into the tall grasses, at some distance therefrom, and becomes a
silent and sorrowful witness of the disaster to be accomplished. Should
no destruction be perpetrated, and the intruder has gone his way, it
cautiously comes out of its hiding-place, and resumes labors. But it has
learned a lesson by this experience. For on a second visit to the same
spot, no bird is to be found. Apprised of approaching danger, it has
slipped out of the nest in time to escape detection. Thus patiently,
persistently, and seemingly unweariedly, these faithful beings, by
turns, apply themselves to the task, until success has crowned their
willing labors. The time spent in hatching, under the most favorable
circumstances, varies from seventeen to eighteen days.
The young are very timid creatures, and keep close to their parents, who
manifest considerable solicitude for their well-being. They watch over
their helpless infancy, so to speak, with a care which a human mother
only knows, and when their lives are imperiled, resort to many a _ruse_
to deceive their enemies, and bring them into places of safety. By a
peculiar alarm, when severely pressed, the mother warns them of
the condition of things, and while they are scattering in different
directions, she seeks to attract attention to herself in many a
well-feigned artifice. After the danger is past, by a familiar call she
summons them together, and doubtless relates to them the story of her
adventures, and the dangers to which they were exposed. Their food
consists of worms, animalcula, ants and other soft-bodied insects, which
the parents assist them in procuring from the soft earth, and beneath
the grass and dead leaves that abound in the places which they frequent.
Later on, they are able to obtain their subsistence with the address of
older birds, by thrusting their bills into the soil, and in such other
places as would be likely to contain the objects desired. Their tongues
being covered with a viscid saliva, the food adheres thereto, and is
drawn into the mouth without danger of being-lost. Gunners, as well as
those who have made these birds a study, have often met with holes which
have been made in the soft mud by their bills. The presence of these
"borings," as they are called, is always considered as an indication
that game is not very far distant, which a thorough exploration of
the surrounding country soon reveals to be the fact. The young having
thoroughly matured, continue in the same haunts with their parents, and,
unless brought to an untimely death by the merciless gun of the hunter,
repair to the warm, sunny, smiling South with the return of frost.
The eggs of this species are less pyriform than waders' mostly are,
being, in some instances, almost ovoidal. Their ground-color varies from
a light clay to one of buffy-brown, and the markings occur in the form
of fine spots and blotches of chocolate-brown, interspersed with others
of obscure lilac, scattered more or less thickly over the surface of the
egg.
According to Dr. Coues, their size and intensity of color bear, in
general, a direct correspondence with the depth of the background. In
Massachusetts these eggs exhibit remarkable variation, passing from
1.45 to 1.80 inches in length, and from 1.15 to 1.25 in width. Out of
a collection of a dozen specimens, Dr. Coues found the shortest and
broadest egg to measure 1.40 by 1.20, and the longest, narrowest one,
1.55 by 1.15 inches. A set of three before us, from Pennsylvania, has
an average measurement of 1.54 by 1.21 inches. In the Middle States, and
the same is doubtless true of other sections of our great country, there
is never more than a single brood raised, although the early breeding
of the species would certainly give ample time for a second hatching
before the close of the season. The drawing shows not merely the eggs
_in situ_, although considerably reduced, but at the same time gives a
beautiful and accurate figure of a typical specimen, alone and isolated.
The female is represented as standing in the vicinity of the nest, while
her partner occupies a sitting posture in the foreground of the picture.
The total length of this species, from tip of bill to extremity of tail,
is eleven inches. The wing has a stretch of two and a quarter inches.
So well have the birds been portrayed by the artist, that we shall not
attempt a description.
[Illustration: 220]
Plate XXV.--COLYMBUS SEPTENTRION A LIS, Linnæus.--Red-throated Diver.
|Chiefly a boreal species, especially during the breeding-season, the
Red-throated Diver is only known to visit us during the winter. On our
eastern sea-board it seldom attains a lower latitude than Maryland,
while in the West it has been met with along the coast as far south as
San Diego, California. Farther north, however, on the shore-line, around
the inlets of Washington Territory adjacent to the British possessions,
it is more abundant. Although of rare occurrence along the Atlantic
coast of the United States (and it is mostly the young and immature
birds that are to be seen) yet in Arctic regions the species meets
with the essential conditions of soil and climate which render life
a pleasure, and not a burden. Consequently, the birds abound in great
numbers, and carry on their worldly affairs unexposed to the dangers
which would most likely affect them in less severe localities that are
the common resorts of man.
Like most of its kin, this Diver is seen to the best advantage
in winter. Here several may be seen together, when the weather is
favorable, moving lightly over the surface of the sea by means of their
broad seallike paddles, with gently-curving neck and flashing eyes, and
on the _qui vive_ for whatever of life may stir in the depths below. But
let some luckless sprat cross the keen-sighted vision of one of these
birds, and its whole demeanor becomes changed. It is now no longer the
peaceful bird pursuing its way leisurely over the waters, but the
terror of the finny tribes. Like an arrow, it darts downward, and with
marvellous swiftness, urged by its powerful webbed feet and wings, it
shoots through the limpid fluid, and by means of one fell stroke of
its strong-pointed bill, transfixes its victim and rises to the surface
again. With a gentle shiver of the body, the thousand drops of
water that adhere to its sleek plumage, like spangled dew-drops upon
glittering grass-spears, fly in every direction, leaving the feathers as
dry as if the bird had never taken this sub-aqueous journey. Divested of
its borrowed jewels, it now prepares to enjoy its well-won and precious
morsel. For this purpose, with a peculiar jerking movement, the prey is
swallowed, head foremost, and while the process of digestion is going
forward, the perpetrator of this late sanguinary deed settles down into
quiet life, or pursues, with majestic and dignified mien, its customary
movement athwart the glassy bosom of the deep.
Although affecting great fondness for the sea, yet, when awakened to a
true sense of its being by the unseen forces of Nature, and the amatory
feelings have become aroused, it bids a temporary adieu thereto, and
seeks some small, sequestered island in the midst of a lake or pond of
fresh water, in close proximity to the ocean, where it places its nest.
The sexes enter into this business with due consideration and dispatch,
and apparently waste but few precious moments in the indulgence of idle
fancies, or in the gratification of cherished whims. There is little of
the heartlessness and fickleness shown by the wooed when her wooer makes
his suit, as characterize many of our land denizens. The male, tired
of the utter aimlessness of the social life which he has been leading,
retires from the scenes once so dear, seeks his mate, doubtless the
partner of former joys and sorrows, and leads her to the hymeneal altar
a willing bride. A few mutual recognitions of love, and the happy pair
are sealed for another season.
Their chief concern now seems to be the establishment of a home. This is
a work of short duration. A few blades of rank grass, hastily gathered
in the neighborhood, are brought together, and, by the joint labors of
both birds, are circularly arranged, and made to subserve the necessary
purposes. The nest is very shallow, quite bulky, and well hidden by the
surrounding verdure. There is always noticeable a lack of down or of
feathers, which so many sea-birds are accustomed to utilize for warmth
and concealment. Well-beaten paths may be seen diverging from the nest,
which the birds follow in going to and returning from the same. When
either desires to go' thither, it is never known to resort to flight, as
this would apparently betray its whereabouts. But the object desired
is gained by a safer method. The bird swims quietly around the nest,
carefully reconnoitres the spot, and if the land is free from peril,
crawls silently out of the water and waddles her way up to it.
By reason of the severity of northern winters, as is usually the case
with most birds that breed in Labrador and kindred regions the subject
of our sketch is necessarily compelled to delay nesting until the
close of May, or the beginning of June. By this time the sun has nearly
attained the limit of his course in this direction, and his influence
is begun to be felt with considerable force. The female is not long in
occupying the rude domicile with her small complement of two or three
eggs.
In the duty of incubation, which closely follows that of laying, the
male does not shirk the responsibility, and seek the companionship
of others of the same sex to while away the hours in piscatorial
diversions, but, gallant knight that he is, he never forsakes his mate,
unless called away by hunger. He is ever ready to respond to her call,
and assumes the charge of the house and its precious, undeveloped
inmates, with cheerfulness. The period of incubation has never been
determined.
The young from the first are active creatures, and take to the water
almost as soon as they are hatched. On their first introduction to this
fluid they prove themselves to be equally expert both in swimming and in
diving. Few parents are more solicitous for the safety of their progeny.
When assailed by dangers, they watch over them with assiduous care,
and lead them in many a devious route through the watery waste, and
inculcate into their minds many a bit of information and advice
which could not be better taught otherwise. The young profit by these
teachings by example, and soon become as shy and vigilant as their
illustrious parents. In their fresh-water home, they feed upon snails,
leeches, shrimps, small fish and aquatic insects. But after they have
betaken themselves to the sea, they discard, in a measure, such small
fry, and seek larger game, as they sport freely and lustily about in the
exuberance of happy spirits. They are not long in acquiring their full
stature, and in rendering themselves acquainted with the vocabulary of
their parents. The vocal expressions of the latter are harsh and loud,
and may be aptly represented by the syllables _cac, cac, carah, carah_,
delivered in rapid succession. The birds are slow, however, in obtaining
their full plumage. This does not occur until the fourth year of their
existence.
The eggs of this species differ from those of the Loon, a near cousin,
chiefly in size; being somewhat smaller. They pass from an oval form to
one that is ovate, and, in some instances, are rather elongated. Their
general color is an olivaceous-brown, although specimens sometimes show
a decided tendency to olivaceous-drab. We have seen others whose primary
color was of a reddish-brown order. Scattered over the ground-color,
but mainly about the larger extremity, spots of black or dark-brownish,
varying in size from a pin-point to an eighth of an inch, may be found
more or less abundantly. A clutch of two before us from Greenland are
olivaceous-brown tending slightly to drab, and are marked with blackish
spots of varying sizes. They measure respectively 3.13 and 3.07 inches
in length, and 1.88 and 1.75 inches in diameter, giving a mean average
measurement of 3.10 by 1.82 inches. In the cut they are figured as
large as they appear in nature, and in the foreground. The birds are
faithfully delineated as to colors and markings, but show considerable
diminution in size. In the natural state, the male has a length of
twenty-seven, and a wing-expanse of eleven and a half inches; the bill
and tail each being two and a quarter inches. The female is a trifle
smaller than her partner, weighing, on an average, about a pound less.
Her plumage is the exact counterpart of his, or differs in no material
particulars therefrom.
[Illustration: 226]
Plate XXVI.--POLIOPTILA CÆRULEA, (Linn.) Sclater.--Blue-gray
Gnatcatcher.
|When the first breath of spring, on zephyr wings, blows over the South,
laden with dewy moisture and balm from regions beyond the Gulf, this
tiny speck of bird-life feels the glowing influence, and hails it
with delight. Weary and restless, it seeks to break away from its
winter-home, or change the monotony of its existence. While some are
inclined to newness of climate, and leisurely wend their way northward,
others are happy and contented where they are. Those, imbued with a
spirit of migration, quit their less ambitious neighbors in March or
April, to spend their summers abroad. All reach their destination by
three great routes. Those on the east, that winter in the isles to the
southward, follow the trend of the great Atlantic slope as far north as
the valley of the Connecticut and kindred latitudes. Others, doubtless,
from our southernmost States and the Mexican possessions, pursue a
central direction, one part passing through the eastern half of the
Mississippi Valley to the Lake country, and the other ceasing from their
toilsome journey when the northern frontiers of Nebraska and Iowa
are attained. While the western wave, so to speak, collect from their
winter-retreats in the valleys of the Colorado and Rio Grande Rivers
and follow these streams to their headwaters, or turn aside from their
course and make their way through the fertile slopes of the Pacific to
the latitude of 42 degrees.
Though an early migrant, yet, by reason of the tardiness of its
movements, this species does not arrive in the Middle States until
the last of April, or the beginning of May. In Maryland and Virginia,
according to Coues, its advent occurs during the early part of April.
The Carolinas, Northern Alabama and Tennessee witness its appearance
about the fifteenth of March when the season is not retarded by a long,
cold winter, and the Northern Central States, towards the close of the
ensuing month, which, by some inexplicable cause, seems also to be the
date of its coming in the great Colorado Basin.
Appearing at a time when the trees are beginning to clothe themselves in
shimmering robes of green, and often before the oaks and hickories have
burst their tumid buds into the rich drapery of foliage which is to
cover their unsightly nakedness, our little friend is none the less
welcome. From the tall tree-tops we are first made aware of his presence
by the shrill, wiry notes with which he salutes the morn, and which he
is accustomed to utter during the livelong day as he moves in and out
among the branches in tireless pursuit of prey. Not a tree-crevice
escapes his keen scrutiny. While thus eagerly prying into every cranny
or crack that meets his gaze in quest of the lurking culprit, should
the buzz of a fly or the hum of a beetle be borne to his hearing, in
an instant he is off with a dash that is wonderful to behold, and the
unhappy insect is made to repent the folly and temerity of its action.
At such times, his behavior seems to be all hurry and bustle, as though
the work of a life must be crowded into a few short days.
We have but pictured to the minds of our readers the selfish side of his
character, as manifested in the uncontrollable rapacity which sways him.
But when the finer and more ennobling impulses of his nature, stimulated
by returning warmth, have once more gained the mastery, a milder grace
attends his every movement, and sweeter accents attune his voice. We
no longer hear those peculiar sounds, which to the human ear resemble
_tsee-tsee-tsee_, repeated in rapid succession, and which, a few short
weeks before, were everywhere to be heard--a fit accompaniment to his
reckless life--but instead, are regaled with the sweetest, tenderest
music. This is so low, that to appreciate its effect, the auditor must
be but a few yards distant from the tree which our modest vocalist has
selected to be the scene of his endeavors. So well sustained is the
effort, and, above all, so faultlessly rendered, that the most austere
critic could hardly fail to assign the performer a high place among the
feathered choir.
Like many of his kith, he does not seek the bare branch of some tall
tree, where he can be seen, and thrill the air of vale and wood around
with ear-splitting utterances. He despises such notoriety. Hid away in
the leafy canopy that wreathes the brow of some gnarled oak, he loves
to take his stand, and there pour out his soul in all the ecstasy of
subdued song. Unpretentious as his music may be, and undervalued for its
lack of force by the vast choir of singers around, yet it has a depth
of power and feeling, which, as it is borne aloft upon the bosom of
the gentle air, strikes the ears of some timid, modest creature, and
startles the slumbering chords of her being into harmony. Life to her
now acquires new vitality and enjoyment. With heart beating high with
rapturous emotions, and urged by an irresistible desire, she betakes
herself on swiftest pinions to the spot whence emanate the sounds. As
she nears it, the music comes to her with fuller distinctness, and sends
the heart-throbs following one another in happy, swift succession. The
singer does not abate his efforts, but keeps them up with scarce an
intermission, until they elicit a response, or the gentle, loving one
is wafted to his immediate presence. On the reception of a reply, his
movements are restless and animated. But let the object of his thoughts
but flit before his excited vision, and in a moment he is by her side.
In a variety of actions which, from a human standpoint, seem
meaningless and frivolous, he conveys to her his love, and the boundless
appreciation of her worth. This done, he next attempts a song, which
seems to soothe her hitherto agitated feelings, and awakens confidence
and resignation. He is not slow in perceiving the advantage thus
acquired, and, consequently, follows it up with other advances, which
completely place her at the disposal of his mercy and power. Conquered
at last, she yields herself a willing subject to the potency of love,
and becomes his wedded wife.
The selection of a home-spot now claims the attention. High, open woods
are preferred for this purpose, although trees along the borders of
streams, and in low, damp situations, are sometimes chosen. There seems
to be no particular fancy for one tree more than another, provided it
be lichen-clad. Those whose branches are thus ornamented, the oak
especially, will be found to be more frequently favored. Instances are
known, however, of nests being placed upon the maple, a tree remarkable
for its dearth of such vegetation. Having chosen the site, the erection
of a dwelling is next in order. Accordingly, the pair set about this
business.
The time chosen for the work is generally the month of May, when
insect-life runs riot, and mother earth is ablaze with a thousand floral
beauties, the free-will offering of the queen that now presides. From
its dawn to its close, these curious structures may be seen in various
stages of completion, with eggs and without, tenantless and occupied.
Specimens from Texas, with egg-complements, have been found on or near
the fifteenth, which had doubtless been commenced two weeks before.
Others from New Jersey and Pennsylvania contained incubated eggs as late
as the twenty-eighth, while one from Eastern Tennessee with two fresh
eggs was found on the sixth of the month following. But this may have
been a case where the early efforts of the birds to nest had been
prevented by circumstances beyond their control. Reports from the
extreme northern and western limits of the range of these birds point to
the same conclusion.
The height which these nests occupy above the ground varies with the
locality. In some places they seldom attain a greater elevation than
ten feet, but, in the majority of cases, this limit is exceeded, and
the heights of fifty, and even sixty feet, are reached. There is less
variation in form noticeable, their shape being generally that of a
truncated cone. One nest before us from the South differs somewhat from
this figure, and may be pronounced as inversely conical. The position,
too, is quite uniform. Most of them are placed among slender branches,
to which they are woven by the ingenuity of the architects, and,
although non-pensile, are the sport of every breeze. But so securely are
they fastened, that to dislodge them from their moorings, is a matter of
no little difficulty.
Though jostled most readily by the winds, and in danger of destruction,
yet, by a wise provision of instinct, their contents are insured against
accident. This is prevented not so much by the depth of the cavity, as
by the purse-like contraction of the rim.
Few structures of bird-architecture are more handsome than the home
of this little Gnatcatcher, and none so worthily excite our wonder and
admiration. Like the nests of the Humming-bird and Wood Pewee, it is a
perfect model of beauty and design. So cunningly contrived a structure,
and one so comfortably, durably and tastefully arranged, would doubtless
be attributed by us to the work of superior beings, were we not
acquainted with the artificers. In the foregoing particulars, it stands
almost unrivalled. Like the colors which glow upon the bosom of
the mother of pearl, it must be seen to be fully appreciated. No
description, however faithfully portrayed, can give an adequate
conception of its beauty. But we shall make the attempt. Even the
picture gives but a meagre idea of the elegance of this cosy chamber.
Its walls are of felt, closely and compactly woven, and made of slender
stems of grass, the down of thistles, spider's webs, and vegetable-like
fibres. As if dissatisfied with such a fine piece of mechanism, our
little architects must needs go further. With a love for the beautiful
and picturesque, they almost startle the beholder by investing the
exterior with a fine stucco-work of bluish-gray lichens which serves
the two-fold purpose of ornamentation and protection. So like a natural
excrescence does the nest now appear, that only the experienced eye can
detect the 'difference. Compared with the size of its tiny builder, who
measures but four and three-tenths inches from tip of bill to caudal
extremity, the nest seems bulky. These structures are, however, by no
means uniform in size. A specimen from New Jersey has a width of two and
seven-eighths inches, and a height of three. Another from Texas measures
two and five-eighths inches in length, and but two and a half in
external diameter. The smallest we have seen are from Tennessee and
California. The former has a width of two and a quarter inches, and a
height of two and five-eighths, while the latter differs therefrom only
in length, being half an inch less. The cavities offer less striking
differences, varying slightly from one and a half inches in either
direction. In composition the Western nest presents some points
of difference. The exterior is composed of yellowish-green and
greenish-gray lichens, specifically distinct from Eastern specimens, a
slight intersprinkling of brown catkins, feathers, cobwebs, and small
bits of vegetable stems. The inside does not present much variation, but
is lined with feathers, horse-hairs and vegetable wool, as many of
our own are. When feathers are utilized for a lining, the quills are
generally placed in the walls of the nest, only the soft plume-like
parts being allowed to come into contact with the eggs. The nest from
California was found by Prof. Ever-mann, in the vicinity of Santa Paula,
during the summer of 1881. It is the prettiest, as well as the most
elaborately perfected nest which we have yet seen. The one from which
the drawing was made, while less artistic, deserves mention, from
the peculiar position which it occupies, being wedged in between two
diverging branches from a sweet-gum, and fastened thereto by cobwebs
passing from its outside to the wing-like expansions of the wood.
Such finished and complicated structures are assuredly not the work of a
few hours, but the labor of unwearied perseverance and industry upon the
part of the builders for a week. No division of the work is allowed,
but each bird toils as suits its inclination. Whether the rearing of
the fabric proper with its finely-felted walls, or the laying on of
the tiles afterwards, requires the longer time to accomplish, it is
difficult to say. Our experience teaches that the latter is the more
trying and difficult task, and consumes one-third more time. It must not
be presumed that the builders work steadily through the entire day.
This is not the case. Rest, recreation, and the procurement of food, are
matters that require attention, and prolong the labor.
Having finished their home, the female is not slow in providing it
with tenants. From four to six eggs are deposited in as many days, and
incubation entered into. This lasts fourteen days, and is as much the
work of one sex as the other. While thus occupied, the birds are jealous
of their property, and resent all intrusions with a valor worthy of
admiration. This is especially the case when their home is visited by
the Cowbird. So determined and fierce are the attacks which they wage
against these birds, that in the _melee_ which ensues, their fragile
home is often entirely destroyed. In Cooke County, Texas, where this
Gnatcatcher is abundant, fully half the nests that have been found
by Mr. Ragsdale, the narrator of this fact, are despoiled before
completion, and, in many instances, completely obliterated. But let the
intruder be some conscienceless collector, knowing that resistance is
useless the birds do not make a stand, but seek some safe spot where
they can observe the proceedings. But as soon as the premises have
been deserted they return, and if the home remains untouched, resume
possession as though nothing had happened. In the event of desecration,
they forsake the spot with sorrow and reluctance, and try their fortunes
elsewhere. But a single brood is raised, although the tardiness of
some pairs to nidificate has led to the belief that in some seasons the
species may be double-brooded.
The young birds, for a week or ten days subsequent to hatching, are
quite weak and tender, and but for the attention and care bestowed by
parental love, would quickly perish. Endowed by Nature with vigorous
appetites, and being blessed with kind and thoughtful parents, they are
soon able to help themselves. Their food at first consists of larvæ of
various kinds, but chiefly those of a lepidopterous character, and small
diptera. With age comes an increase in the quantity and character of
their food, and at the age of four weeks they desert the home-shelter,
and forage in common with their parents. Thus they spend their lives,
careless and happy, until the first appearance of the "sere and yellow
leaf" in September warns them of the growing scarcity of food-stuffs,
and bids them retire to the groves of our southernmost States, or to
scenes beyond the Mexic line.
Their eggs are oval in form, and slightly pointed. In ground-color they
are white, and spotted and blotched with reddish-brown, slate and
lilac. Cabinet specimens, however, show sometimes a faint bluish- or
greenish-white tint. The markings, though varying considerably, are
uniformly distributed. In size, there is noticeable but little variation
in specimens from diverse localities; eggs from Michigan differing but
slightly from those from Texas, and these sustaining the same' relation
to sets from Pennsylvania. The average dimensions of a clutch of four
from New Jersey are .59 by .48 inches. The depth of the nest precludes us
from showing the eggs _in situ_. We are therefore compelled to give a
drawing below, which will be found to be of the natural proportions.
The female-bird, which is placed in close contiguity to the nest, may
be easily distinguished from her mate, by the absence of black upon the
head.
[Illustration: 236]