_Tin-tin._—_Barbadoes Blackbird._
_Quiscalus crassirostris._—+Sw.+
[61] Length 12¹⁄₂ inches, expanse 18¹⁄₄, flexure 6, tail 5³⁄₁₀,
rictus 1⁴⁄₁₀, tarsus 1⁶⁄₁₀, middle toe 1³⁄₁₀. Intestine 12 inches;
two cæca ¹⁄₆ inch long, ¹⁄₂ inch from cloaca. Irides cream-white.
The appearance, voice, and habits of this bird had pretty well
convinced me of its distinctness from _Q. versicolor_, before I was
aware that Mr. Swainson had described it in “Two centenaries and a
quarter,” p. 355. From the length of his specimen, it is probable the
tail was not fully developed.
This is one of the first birds which a stranger notices: his
conspicuous size and glossy plumage, his familiar business-like
manners, and his very peculiar metallic cry, at once attract
attention. Gregarious, but not associating in very great numbers to
feed, they frequent pastures and open grounds in search of insects,
not often hopping, (though I have seen one hop,) but walking with a
swaggering gait, like rooks and crows. When on the ground their time
is chiefly occupied in searching about among the roots of the grass.
It is most amusing to stand where one is not observed, at a few yards’
distance from a Tinkling at work, and to watch the unremitted industry
with which he labours. He marches rapidly to and fro, turning his head
in all directions, peeping eagerly hither and thither, now turning
one eye to a spot, now the other, ever and anon thrusting into the
earth the beak, which is then forcibly opened to loosen the soil. He
drags many morsels forth, which he quickly swallows, and searches for
more. I suspect earthworms and various larvæ that live at the roots of
grass are the objects of his research. Amidst his constant occupation,
he does not omit, however, to keep an eye warily on any suspicious
object. Only shew your person, and you see the singular-looking white
eye turned up towards you; stir a step towards him, and away he flies,
uttering his very peculiar cry, his long tail folded on itself, and
resembling a vertical fan. As he sits on a tree, he will now and then
elevate the fan-like tail, ruffle up the plumage, throw back the head,
and with the beak wide open, utter two or three most singular notes,
which I can compare to nothing but the sounds produced by repeatedly
striking with force a piece of sonorous metal, relieved occasionally
by the creaking of a schoolboy’s pencil upon a slate. “There are,”
observes Mr. Hill, “two or three fine modulations, followed by a sudden
break down into the harsh grating sounds of the ungreased wheels of a
heavy-loaded truck.” It is to the first of these notes that the bird
before us owes his local names of Tinkling, Tintin, Clinkling, and,
among the Spaniards of St. Domingo, Chinchiling.
Like the Ani, the Tinkling feeds on the parasites of cattle. Walking
among them, and mounting on their backs, they pick off the ticks that
so sadly infest the poor beasts, who, as if appreciating the service,
offer not the slightest molestation to their kind friends. I one day
observed a Tinkling thus engaged in feeding her offspring. It was in
the picturesque pasture of Peter’s Vale, where kine were numerous.
Beneath the grateful shade of a spreading mango, in the heat of the
day, a cow was peacefully ruminating. At her feet was the old Tinkling,
walking round and looking up at her, with an intelligent eye. Presently
she espied a tick upon the cow’s belly, and leaping up, seized it in
her beak. Then marching to her sable offspring, who stood looking on
a few yards off, she proceeded to deliver the savoury morsel into the
throat of her son, who had gaped to the utmost stretch of his throat
in eager expectation, even before his mother was near him. This done,
she returned, and again walking round, scrutinized the animal’s body,
but discovering nothing more, flew up on the cow’s back and commenced
an investigation there. Just at this moment something alarmed her,
and both mother and son flew to a distant tree. It was at the same
time, and in the same pasture, that I observed a number of these birds
collected in a large bastard-cedar that overhung a shallow pool; to
which one and another were continually descending, and bathing with
great apparent enjoyment; after which each flew to a sunny part of the
tree, and fluttered and pecked, and ruffled its plumage, that it might
dry smoothly and equally.
Mr. Hill has observed at Fort Dauphin, on the north side of St.
Domingo, the Tinkling feeding in flocks of two hundred or more. The low
grounds around the harbour, consisting of many shallow marly hollows
are overflowed by the tide, after the prevalence of strong north winds,
reducing them to marshes. Many marine _mollusca_, &c. congregating in
these hollows, are left, by the water evaporating, to putrefy: the
vicinity is hence very unhealthy, but hither the Tinklings resort in
large flocks to feed on the decaying animal matters, with which the
mud is filled. And in Jamaica, my friend has witnessed flocks of these
birds equally numerous, winging their way, in March, towards Passage
Fort, an embouchure subject to a similar inundation, on which they
appeared to descend.
The food of our Grakle I believe to consist almost, if not quite
exclusively, of insects, worms, &c. Yet I have seen one in March eating
a Seville orange on the tree, tugging out large portions of the pulp,
and swallowing them. But the stomach of this very specimen, which I
shot in the act, was full of comminuted insects. As it was in the midst
of very dry weather, the object may have been the quenching of its
thirst. Robinson in describing the Corato, (_Agave keratto_) notices a
fondness of this bird for its nectar, which may perhaps be similarly
explained. He says of this magnificent plant, (MSS. I. 76.) “the
flowering stem begins to rise about Christmas, and in the beginning of
March, the flowers open. The Mocking-birds are fond of the honey found
at the base of this flower; the Barbadoes Blackbirds are also fond of
it, and between these birds happen great dissensions and bickerings. If
the Blackbirds, which are naturally very loquacious, would fare well,
and hold their tongues, they might feed unmolested. But their incessant
chattering attracts the attention of the Mock-birds, who having at that
time young ones, and being doubly jealous, assault the Blackbirds with
great fierceness and vigour, soon obliging them to quit the plant, and
hide themselves among the trees and bushes.”
Of two which I shot in January, the stomach of one presented a singular
appearance, being stuffed with green herbage, like very fine grass,
chopped excessively small. I had noticed several caterpillars among the
mass, but it was not until I dispersed it in water, that I discovered
it to consist of the contents of the caterpillars’ stomachs, expressed
by the muscular action of the gizzard. There were no less than nineteen
caterpillars, all smooth, and I think grass-eating kinds, some of
which still contained portions of comminuted herbage. The stomach of
the other contained about as many caterpillars, besides other larvæ,
some spiders, a moth, and other insects.
Regularly at nightfall, during the summer, I used to see many parties
of Tinklings fly over Bluefields, with the usual vociferation, and
wend their way to a spreading cotton-tree near the seaside, where, I
was informed, they slept; whence, as regularly one might see them,
in the early morning, emerging and dispersing to their places of
diurnal occupation. One evening I went down to watch their arrival and
proceedings. About half-an-hour before sunset, they began to arrive
in straggling parties, but did not proceed at once to their roosting
place, but congregated in a clump of smaller trees, about one hundred
and fifty yards from it, on the banks of Bluefields River, where they
clamoured in all sorts of metallic tones with unceasing vociferation.
Some parties from a distance, coming straight to the roost, suddenly
altered their course, attracted by the calls of these intermediate
settlers, and joined them, and some even returned to them, which had
already passed the spot. A few, however, went on to their destination,
and when once some were there, their numbers soon increased, for the
calling now proceeded from both quarters. As the parties arrived,
one or two single birds kept flying from one station to the other,
backwards and forwards. At length the whole assembled number on the
intermediate station rose as by common consent, and flew in an immense
flock to the number of nearly two hundred, to the roosting place,
darkening the air, and making a loud rushing with their united wings.
Others went on to arrive, until between four and five hundred, (I could
not count very accurately) had assembled. Long before this, however, I
had found that the real roosting place was not the large cotton-tree,
that this was but another station of congregation, for as the evening
advanced, they began to leave this, and to perch on the fronds of
four or five cocoa-nut palms that were growing in two lines, of which
the cotton-tree was the angle. The nearest trees to this point were
first chosen, and few chose the second, till the first was pretty well
crowded, nor the third till the second was occupied, and finally the
numbers on each cocoa-nut were in proportion to its proximity to the
central point.
The taking of places was attended with much squabbling; the alighting
of each new comer on a frond, causing it to swing so as greatly to
discompose the sitters already in possession, and throw them off their
balance; and hence each was received by his fellows with open beaks,
and raised wings to prevent his landing. Still, many thrust themselves
in among others, pecking right and left in self-defence. The highest
horizontal fronds were most in demand, and many of these had at the
close as many as ten or twelve birds each, sitting side by side in a
sable row. When once the birds had left the cotton-tree, and selected
their places on the palms, they did not return, but places were
shifted continually. During the whole time their singular voices were
in full cry, and could be heard at a great distance; some idea may be
formed of the effect of the whole, by imagining two or three hundred
small table bells of varying tones to be rung at the same time. By
half-an-hour after sunset, the arrivals had pretty well ceased, and
most of the birds were quietly settled for the night. I visited them
on one or two subsequent evenings, but found no material difference in
their proceedings.
As the Tinkling roosts in society, so does it build. The nests, to
the number of twenty or thirty, are placed in a single tree, usually
a hog-plum, (_Spondias graveolens_). One of these trees, chosen every
year as a nesting tree, being on the property of a friend, a nest,
one of fourteen then built, was brought down for my inspection. It
consists of a deep, compact, and well-formed cup, the hollow of which
is as large as a pint basin; the sides, about an inch and a half
thick, formed of flexible stems of weeds, and stalks of guinea grass.
It contained three eggs, measuring 1¹⁄₁₀ inch by ⁸⁄₁₀, of a dull pale
blue-green, singularly marked with sinuated lines of black. I am
assured that when the company have hatched their broods for the season,
they tear away with their feet the nests, and scatter the materials;
and that should any other bird have a nest on the same tree, it is
mercilessly destroyed with the rest, regardless of the eggs or young
which it may contain. The nests are placed on the forks of divergent
branches, near the end of horizontal limbs, at a considerable
elevation.
Mr. Hill informs me, on the authority of a friend from Barbadoes,
that in that island a strange custom prevails among the children, of
collecting these birds about Shrove Tuesday in every year, and bringing
them into the towns, where they then play with them, and feed them
with cockroaches. The origin or the object of this annual amusement
my friend’s informant could not explain, having left that island when
himself a child. The same gentleman has observed the Tinklings in
Jamaica go to the lime trees, and descending beneath the trees pick up
in their beaks the fallen fruits; then rising to a twig, each would
take its lime in one foot, and gently rub it over its side beneath the
wing, transfer it to the other foot, and rub the other side in the same
way: the object here being doubtless the fine aromatic odour of the
oil of the bruised rind communicated to the feathers. The observer has
watched this proceeding by the hour together.