Why this duck should be called red-breasted is not at first apparent,
as at a distance the color can not be distinguished, but seen near,
the reason is plain. It is a common bird in the United States in
winter, where it is found in suitable localities in the months of May
and June. It is also a resident of the far north, breeding abundantly
in Newfoundland, Labrador, Greenland, and Iceland. It is liberally
supplied with names, as Red-Breasted Goosander or Sheldrake, Garbill,
Sea Robin, etc.
There is a difference in opinion as to the nesting habits of the
Red-Breast, some authorities claiming that, like the Wood Duck, the
nest is placed in the cavity of a tree, others that it is usually
found on the ground among brushwood, surrounded with tall grasses and
at a short distance from water. Davie says that most generally it is
concealed by a projecting rock or other object, the nest being made of
leaves and mosses, lined with feathers and down, which are plucked
from the breast of the bird. The observers are all probably correct,
the bird adapting itself to the situation.
Fish is the chief diet of the Merganser, for which reason its flesh is
rank and unpalatable. The Bird's appetite is insatiable, devouring its
food in such quantities that it has frequently to disgorge several
times before it is able to rise from the water. This Duck can swallow
fishes six or seven inches in length, and will attempt to swallow
those of a larger size, choking in the effort.
The term Merganser is derived from the plan of the bird's bill, which
is furnished with saw teeth fitting into each other.
The eggs of the Red-Breasted Merganser vary from six to twelve, are
oval in shape, and are of a yellowish or reddish-drab, sometimes a
dull buffy-green.
You may have seen pictures of this Duck, which frequently figures in
dining rooms on the ornamental panels of stuffed game birds, but none
which could cause you to remember its life-like appearance. You here
see before you an actual Red-Breasted Merganser.
[Illustration: From col. J. G. Parker, Jr.
RED-BREASTED MERGANSER.]
BIRD SONG--Continued from page 41.
with exactness, will deceive Mistress Pullet herself.
To carry the idea further, we will take the notes of some of the birds
depicted in this number of BIRDS. The Osprey, or Fish-Hawk, has been
carefully observed, and his only discovered note is a high, rapidly
repeated whistle, very plaintive. Doubtless this noise is agreeable
and intelligible to his mate, but cannot be called a song, and has no
significance to the listener.
The Vulture utters a low, hissing sound when disturbed. This is its
only note. Not so with the Bald Eagle, whose scream emulates the rage
of the tempest, and implies courage, the quality which associates him
with patriotism and freedom. In the notes of the Partridge there is a
meaning recognizable by every one. After the nesting season, when the
birds are in bevies, their notes are changed to what sportsmen term
"scatter calls." Not long after a bevy has been flushed, and perhaps
widely scattered, the members of the disunited family may be heard
signaling to one another in sweet minor calls of two and three notes,
and in excitement, they utter low, twittering notes.
Of the Sora Rails, Mr. Chapman says, "knowing their calls, you have
only to pass a May or June evening near a marsh to learn whether they
inhabit it. If there, they will greet you late in the afternoon with
a clear whistled _ker-wee_, which soon comes from dozens of invisible
birds about you, and long after night has fallen, it continues like a
springtime chorus of piping hylas. Now and again it is interrupted by
a high-voiced, rolling whinney, which, like a call of alarm, is taken
up and repeated by different birds all over the marsh."
Poor Red-Breasted Merganser! He has only one note, a croak. Perhaps
it was of him that Bryant was thinking when he wrote the stanzas "To
a Water-Fowl."
"The sentiment of feeling awakened by any of the aquatic fowls is
pre-eminently one of loneliness," says John Burroughs. "The Wood Duck
(see July BIRDS) which you approach, starts from the pond or the
marsh, the Loon neighing down out of the April sky, the Wild Goose,
the Curlew, the Stork, the Bittern, the Sandpiper, etc., awaken quite
a different train of emotions from those awakened by the land birds.
They all have clinging to them some reminiscence and suggestion of the
sea. Their cries echo its wildness and desolation; their wings are the
shape of its billows."
But the Evening Grosbeak, the Kentucky Warbler, the Skylark, land
birds all, are singers. They have music in their throats and in their
souls, though of varying quality. The Grosbeak's note is described by
different observers as a shrill _cheepy tee_ and a frog-like _peep_,
while one writer remarks that the males have a single metallic cry
like the note of a trumpet, and the females a loud chattering like the
large Cherry Birds.
The Kentucky Warbler's song is entirely unlike that of any other
Warbler, and is a loud, clearly whistled performance of five, six, or
seven notes, _turdle, turdle, turdle_, resembling in tone some of the
calls of the Carolina Wren. He is so persistent in his singing,
however, that the Red-Breasted Merganser's simple croak would
sometimes be preferable to it.