interesting birds that made the wide open places so attractive. When
I visited the Quill Lake region in Saskatchewan in 1917, I found that
practically all the prairies had been burned over or cultivated; the
long-billed curlew had entirely disappeared, though recently abundant
there, and I saw only one pair of chestnut-collared longspurs; but some
of the upland plover were adapting themselves to the new conditions and
were nesting in cultivated fields, much as the spotted sandpipers and
the killdeer have learned to nest in grain fields and truck gardens.
Perhaps such adaptation may be the salvation of a useful and attractive
species. Some observers report it as already increasing in numbers.
_Spring._--W. H. Hudson (1922) describes the beginning of the spring
migration from the pampas of South America, as follows:
The north migration as a rule begins about the 15th of
February and continues to the 15th of March, and it is at
the beginning of the former month that the disquiet becomes
noticeable. Now on one occasion the season of unrest began
much earlier, in the month of January, increased from day
to day and week to week in the most extraordinary way,
and continued to about the middle of March before the
birds began to fly north, the migration continuing through
March. On any day in February when out riding I would see
from time to time a bird spring up with its wild alarm cry
and flight, and after going a little distance drop down
again. Then in a minute or two another, farther away, would
start up with its cry; and sitting still and watching and
listening, I could see the birds rise up here and there all
over the plain--rise with a cry, then settle down again;
and if one rode a 100 miles to any side he would find it
the same everywhere. The birds were in a continual state
of agitation, of fear; and though this state began so much
sooner than usual, the actual migration did not begin till
a month later than the usual time.
Dr. Alexander Wetmore (1926), writing from the same general region,
says:
At Tucuman, Tucuman, five were heard early in the evening
of April 1 as they passed over the city traveling due north
during a slow rain accompanied by heavy mist. On the night
of April 5 under similar conditions an extensive flight of
shore birds began at a quarter of 10 and continued until
half past 11. During this period J. L. Peters, with whom
I was traveling at the time, and I identified the call of
the upland plover from 38 individuals. The birds were in
company with yellowlegs, solitary sandpipers, and a few
golden plover. How many passed unheard in the darkness
there was no way to know. The calling of these birds
when in northward migration was a phenomenon of common
knowledge in Tucuman during that season in the year, but
all commented upon the fact that the birds seemed to have
decreased greatly in abundance in recent years.
The earliest birds reach Texas and Louisiana early in March.
Illustrating the abundance of this species in Texas 40 years ago, G. B.
Benners (1887) says:
At the former place we found immense flocks on the prairie,
and they were so tame that the flock would part in the
middle and let us drive between them. We often shot enough
birds while going through a flock in this way to last for
several meals. When they thought we did not see them they
would stand perfectly still, and being the same color as
their surroundings they easily escaped detection.
From there the main migration route seems to be directly northward
between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains.
Fred J. Pierce writes to me:
On my rambles over the rolling country of Buchanan County,
Iowa, in the early spring, I usually hear the Bartramian
sandpiper and see the small speck high in the sky that I
know is his form. A damp, cloudy morning seems to be the
preferred time for the bird’s sky circling, but it may be
found frequently in the early morning, too. Cloudy days are
the days which it enjoys most, it appears.
Edward S. Thomas tells me that he has seen it in Ohio as early as March
26, but that the average date of arrival is April 2. It is not recorded
east of Cuba in the spring, but some birds migrate across from Yucatan
to Cuba and Florida and then up the Atlantic coast. When this species
bred more commonly in New England it used to arrive in April, but now
it is very rare here.
_Courtship._--The courtship flight song of the upland plover is well
described in some notes sent to me by Fred J. Pierce, as follows:
The bird’s song is very interesting, but it is given
little attention in books relating to ornithology. On
still wings, these large birds circle slowly about,
usually so high as to be mere specks in the sky, and
give their shrill, penetrating whistle, which will carry
nearly a mile, depending upon the wind and the altitude of
the whistler. First there are a few notes sounding like
water gurgling from a large bottle, then comes the loud
_whip-whee-ee-you_, long drawn out and weirdly thrilling.
When I first heard this strange cry I at once thought
of some species of hawk as being the author of it, and
I have known others to think the same thing. It is too
loud and penetrating a cry to be attributed to one of
the sandpipers. I have heard the bird whistling in this
manner as late as July, but I do not believe that this is a
common practice. On more than one occasion I have seen the
bird, after circling at such height as to be almost out of
sight, close its wings and shoot to earth like a falling
stone. This thrilling performance is similar to that of the
prairie horned lark, which takes a headfirst drop to earth
when it has finished singing its contribution to the usual
spring morning chorus.
Another pretty version of the courtship is given by Katharine U. Hunter
(1916) thus:
It was the springtime (1916). The prolonged wail, vague
and sad, of the plovers rose in our upland pasture. I
watched them carry on their odd courtship; hopping toward
each other, twittering, flying away, then repeating it all
again, the hopping, twittering, and retreating. Ungainly,
spirit-voiced birds! Once from out the black, vibrant night
came the eerie, long-drawn whistle of a plover lover.
_Nesting._--My first upland plover’s nest was found on May 25, 1900,
near the western end of Marthas Vineyard, Mass. The birds were still
fairly common here in those days and there were at least three pairs of
them breeding in this and adjoining pastures. The nest was on a knoll
in a sheep pasture where the grass had been cropped short except for
scattered tufts, where it grew from 7 to 10 inches high, offering the
necessary concealment. In one of these tufts, about a foot in diameter,
a hollow had been scratched, 4 or 5 inches in diameter and nearly 3
inches deep; it was lined with small bits of dried grass and held four
handsome eggs.
Since then I have found several nests in Saskatchewan. These nests were
all similarly located on the dry, grassy prairies, slight hollows in
the ground, about 4 inches in diameter and 2 inches deep, generally
well hidden in rather long, thick grass; they were lined with pieces
of dry grass, and the growing grass was artfully arched over them for
protection. The birds usually sat very closely; once we drove over a
nest, flushing the bird under the wagon; and several times we were able
to part the grass over the nest or even touch the bird before she left.
She usually ran or fluttered away for a few feet and then ran about
near us, with her long neck stretched up above the grass, watching us
and uttering her _quip-ip-ip-ip_ notes of protest.
Nests found by others have been similarly described, but Prof. W. B.
Barrows (1912) says that--
in Michigan, it frequently nests in wet grounds, although
the nest itself is usually placed on one of the drier
spots. We have seen the birds nesting in two instances in
good snipe bogs where the mud was ankle deep and dry spots
few and far between.
Prof. William Rowan (1926) says that in Alberta--
the nests found were very variable in make-up and
situation. One had no lining whatever and consisted of a
mere scrape in the ground. This was in a hollow right in
the open on a huge sandy area with but sparse vegetation,
on which long-billed curlews (_Numenius americanus_) were
nesting. Others were in clumps of rough brush, and this is
probably typical for this locality. Another was in long
grass. The most elaborate lining noted consisted of leaves,
bents, and small twigs. One clutch of five was found and
one of three, the latter no doubt incomplete, as the bird
was not about and the eggs were fresh.
Edward R. Ford has the following observation on the selection of a
nesting site:
As in the case of the larger ground-nesting birds,
whose nests have little architectural pretension, the
upland plover often deposits the first egg before any
nest-building operations have been begun. It is probable
that the physiological condition of the female urges her
to seek a location generally favorable to the successful
rearing of a brood; but the exact site of the nest may
be in some measure accidental. It is not often that one
may be fortunate enough to come upon the kind of evidence
best calculated to prove a theory of animal behavior, but
it happened once that we found a single egg of the upland
plover, unbetrayed by the presence of the parent and hidden
deep in the grass. It might have been an egg prematurely
laid and, therefore, not likely to receive further parental
attention. If it had been a meadow lark’s egg, for example,
that would have been the conclusion and the facts of
experience would have borne it out. But here was the chance
to test a theory and so, while not surprised, we were
gratified, three days later, to flush a bird from the spot
marked as the location of the single egg and to find there
the full complement of four. About these the dry grass had
taken hemispherical form and, with the addition of loose
material and by reason of the impression made by the eggs
themselves, as well as by the body of the parent, there now
existed a well-defined if simple nest.
_Eggs._--The upland plover lays four eggs, rarely five, and perhaps
sometimes only three. These are ovate to short ovate in shape, less
pointed than most shore birds’ eggs; and they have only a slight gloss.
In the commonest types the ground colors vary from “light pinkish
cinnamon” to “pale pinkish buff”; in others they vary from “cartridge
buff” or “pale olive buff” to greenish white. They are more or less
evenly spotted with small spots of various shades of dark browns
or reddish browns, and usually with small underlying spots, rarely
large blotches, of “ecru drab” or “pale drab gray.” The measurements
of 66 eggs in the United States National Museum average 45 by 32.5
millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =51= by 33, 48
by =35=, =41.5= by 32.5, and 48 by =29.5= millimeters.
_Young._--The incubation period is said to be 17 days, but this needs
confirmation. Both sexes share in the duties of incubation and care of
the young. Katharine U. Hunter (1916) says:
The birds relieved each other at the nest--a true division
of domestic cares: one bird would alight at a long
distance, fold his wings, utter no cry, and, with head held
low, walk through the grass, squatting lower and lower till
finally he disappeared on the nest; then the female would
retreat with the same caution, not spreading her wings till
far from the eggs.
Doctor Coues (1874) describes the behavior of young birds and their
parents very well, as follows:
Young birds are abroad late in June--curious little
creatures, timid and weak, led about by their anxious
parents, solicitous for their welfare, and ready to
engage in the most unequal contests in their behalf. When
half grown, but still in the down, the little creatures
have a curious clumsy, top-heavy look; their legs look
disproportionately large, like those of a young colt or
calf; and they may be caught with little difficulty, as
they do not run very well. I once happened upon a brood,
perhaps two weeks old, rambling with their mother over
the prairie. She sounded the alarm, to scatter her brood,
but not before I had secured one of them in my hand. I
never saw a braver defense attempted than was made by this
strong-hearted though powerless bird, who, after exhausting
her artifices to draw me in pursuit of herself, by tumbling
about as if desperately wounded, and lying panting with
outstretched wings on the grass, gave up hope of saving
her young in this way, and then almost attacked me,
dashing close up and retreating again to renew her useless
onslaught. She was evidently incited to unusual courage by
the sight of her little one struggling in my hand. At this
downy stage the young birds are white below, finely mottled
with black, white, and rich brown above; the feet and under
mandible are light colored; the upper mandible is blackish.
Although these tattlers are generally dispersed over the
prairies during the summer, yet they affect particular
spots by preference. Away from the river valleys, such
spots are the numerous depressions of rolling prairie,
often of great extent, which are moist or even watery at
some seasons, and where the vegetation is most luxuriant.
Here they gather almost into colonies. Riding into some
such spot in July, when the young birds are being led
about by their parents, some old bird more watchful than
the rest, or nearest to the person approaching, gives the
alarm with a loud outcry, the young scatter and hide, and
all the old birds are soon on wing; hovering in the air,
often at a great height, crossing each other’s path, and
ceaselessly vociferating their displeasure. I have often
seen a dozen or twenty overhead at once, all from a little
spot only a few acres in extent. Later in the season, when
all the summer’s broods are on wing, they make up into
flocks, often of great extent, and old and young together
assume the ordinary routine of their lives. They leave
these northern regions early. I saw none after the forepart
of September.
_Plumages._--In the downy young upland plover, the crown, back, and
rump are prettily variegated, marbled, or mottled, with black, “wood
brown,” “pinkish buff,” and white, with no definite pattern. The sides
of the head and the entire under parts are pale buff or buffy white,
whitest on the belly and throat. A narrow, median frontal stripe and a
few spots on the sides of the head are black.
The juvenal plumage is much like that of the summer adult, but it
is much more buffy, especially about the head and neck, which are
“cinnamon-buff” or “light ochraceous buff”; the crown is nearly solid
brownish black, or with only a narrow, median, buffy line; the back
and scapulars are brownish black with broad “cinnamon” edgings and
with little or no definite barring on the scapulars; the lesser wing
coverts are sepia with “cinnamon-buff” edgings, broader than in the
adult; and the median coverts are sepia, broadly tipped, and notched
with “cinnamon-buff” and with a subterminal spot or bar of dark sepia.
This plumage is partially molted in August and September, producing the
first winter plumage, which is like the adult, except that the juvenal
flight feathers and most of the wing coverts are retained. At the first
prenuptial molt young birds apparently become indistinguishable from
adults.
Adults have a complete postnuptial molt, beginning with the body
plumage in August and ending with the wings in December and January.
Their prenuptial molt in spring involves nearly everything but the
wings. The winter plumage is less buffy than the spring, more grayish
above and whiter below, with paler edgings, but the color pattern is
about the same.
_Food._--The feeding habits of the upland plover are almost wholly
beneficial. It is one of our most useful birds; living, as it does,
in grass lands and cultivated fields, it destroys vast numbers of
grasshoppers, locusts, and other injurious insects. W. L. McAtee (1912)
writes:
From its habits the upland plover would naturally be
expected to have a closer relation to agriculture than most
sandpipers, and such proves to be the case. Almost half its
food is made up of grasshoppers, crickets, and weevils,
all of which exact heavy toll from cultivated crops. Among
the weevils eaten are the cottonboll weevil; greater and
lesser clover-leaf weevils; clover-root weevils; _Epicaerus
imbricatus_, which is known to attack almost all garden and
orchard crops; cowpea curculios; _Tanymecus confertus_,
an enemy of sugar beets; _Thecesternus humeralis_, which
has been known to injure grapevines; and bill bugs.
_Thecesternus_ alone composes 3.65 per cent of the seasonal
food of the 163 stomachs examined, and bill bugs constitute
5.83 per cent. No fewer than 8 species of bill bugs were
identified from the stomachs. These weevils injure, often
seriously, such crops as corn, wheat, barley, and rye, as
well as forage plants of many kinds. The upland plover
further makes itself useful to the farmer by devouring leaf
beetles, including the grapevine colaspis, southern corn
leaf-beetle, and other injurious species; wireworms and
their adult forms, the click beetles; white grubs and their
parents, the May beetles; cutworms, army worms; cotton
worms; cotton cutworms; sawfly larvae; and leather-jackets
or cranefly larvae. They befriend cattle by eating
horseflies and their larvae, and cattle ticks. They eat a
variety of other animal forms, such as moths, ants, and
other _Hymenoptera_, flies, bugs, centipedes and millipeds,
spiders, snails, and earthworms. Practically 97 per cent of
the food consists of animal matter, chiefly of injurious
and neutral forms. The vegetable food comprises the seeds
of such weed pests as buttonweed, foxtail grass, and sand
spurs, and hence is also to the credit of the bird.
J. M. Bates (1907) says that, in Nebraska, “after the wheat is cut,
and during migration, it frequents the wheat stubble and gorges itself
with the waste grain.” He has also seen it in the rye stubble in
Connecticut. But this does no harm, of course.
_Behavior._--When traveling the upland plover’s flight is swift and
strong, well sustained on its long, pointed wings; and when migrating,
by day or by night, it flies at a great height. In the autumn it is
wary and difficult to approach, as it jumps up at long range and flies
rapidly away for a long distance. But in the spring its flight is quite
different, more leisurely; it seems to drift along so high up in the
sky as to be almost invisible; it might pass unnoticed, were it not
for its flute like notes. Edwin Sandys (1904) has described this very
well, as follows:
This drifting flight is characteristic of the present
species, and it usually ends in a diving slant earthward,
which is performed without any perceptible motion of the
wings. A few feet from the ground the long, beautiful,
easy descent is gently checked, and the bird alights as
quietly as though it had stooped only a yard or so instead
of hundreds or thousands of feet. For a few seconds after
alighting the bird is apt to keep its wings considerably
elevated above its back, and the brief pose in this
position is particularly attractive. Then the airy fans are
sedately furled. This pretty trick of keeping the wings
spread as if for a momentary study of how they should be
correctly folded is not peculiar to this species. Others
of its near and remote kin go through the same dainty
evolution, although, perhaps, without the air of studied
care which is characteristic of Bartram’s sandpiper.
On its breeding grounds its flight is different again; it often flies
along slowly and evenly, at a low elevation, 15 or 20 feet above the
ground, on quickly vibrating wings, pouring out its liquid, rolling
trills or flute like notes, a delightful performance; or when flushed
from its nest it flies off close to the ground with short, rapid
strokes of its down-curved wings, as if using only its wing tips,
suggesting the flight of the spotted sandpiper. On a windy day it may
occasionally be seen to soar or hover on quivering wings like a small
falcon.
On the ground its movements are ploverlike, running swiftly and
stopping suddenly. It runs gracefully through the grass with its long
neck stretched up to watch the pursuer; or, crouching down, it runs
rapidly away and disappears in the grass. It alights frequently on
fences, telegraph poles, stumps, or rocks to watch the intruder and
scold at him. It is seldom seen near water, and I doubt if anyone has
ever seen it swimming. It is a gentle bird at all times and lives
harmoniously with its neighbors on its breeding grounds, but it does
not seem to associate with other species elsewhere.
_Voice._--The voice of the upland plover is one of its greatest charms;
once heard in its perfection it will never be forgotten; and it often
serves to identify the species when the bird can not be seen. W. H.
Hudson (1922) has referred to it very attractively, as follows:
Lying awake in bed, I would listen by the hour to that
sound coming to me from the sky, mellowed and made
beautiful by distance and the profound silence of the
moonlit world, until it acquired a fascination for me above
all sounds on earth, so that it lived ever after in me;
and the image of it is as vivid in my mind at this moment
as that of any bird call or cry, or any other striking
sound heard yesterday or but an hour ago. It was the sense
of mystery it conveyed which so attracted and impressed
me--the mystery of that delicate, frail, beautiful being,
traveling in the sky, alone, day and night, crying aloud
at intervals as if moved by some powerful emotion, beating
the air with its wings, its beak pointing like the needle
of the compass to the north, flying, speeding on its
7,000-mile flight to its nesting home in another hemisphere.
The most beautiful and striking note heard on its breeding grounds is a
sweet, mellow, rolling trill, uttered as the bird flies along at a low
elevation or while perched on a fence post or even on the ground; it is
evidently a love note. Prof. Lynds Jones (1903) has described it very
well, as follows:
The rolling cry is not unlike the rolling call of a tree
toad, but of a different quality and caliber, which
makes it unmistakable. The whistle is partly double,
the first part passing upward nearly half an octave,
terminating abruptly there, the second part beginning
where the first began and rapidly swelling through nearly
or quite an octave, then gradually falling again and
decreasing in volume to the close, several tones above
the beginning. The first part of the whistle is usually
rattling or trilled, and sometimes the trill is carried
to the end, but oftener it becomes a clear whistle
before the culmination and continues clear to the end.
_Tre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e, tre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-p;
or tr-r-r-r-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-p._ Often the whistled part is
never reached, but the call stops as if interrupted by some
threatened danger.
The alarm note, as the bird flies away from its nest or as it runs
about scolding at the intruder, is an emphatic and rapidly uttered
_quip-ip-ip-ip_. It also has a rich, musical note, which sounds like
_qua-a-ily_, from which one of its local names is taken. This and a
modified form of its rolling trill are often heard on migration, a
prolonged, mournful, mellow whistle, drifting down out of the sky, more
like the whistling of the wind than a bird’s voice.
_Field marks._--The upland plover should be easily recognized by its
size and shape; its slender, graceful form, its delicate head and neck,
and its long tail are characteristic. In flight its long, pointed
wings, its dark rump, and its barred, whitish, outer tail feathers are
good field marks. Its manner of flight and its notes are distinctive.