same region and succeeded in finding, on May 28, 1926, the first
nest of the surf bird. He took some excellent photographs and made a
thorough study of the bird and its habits, thus completing the picture
very satisfactorily. I shall quote freely from his excellent published
account of it. Regarding the nesting site and the nest he writes:
One of the most striking things about the surf bird is
the remarkable difference between its winter and summer
habitat. Near the end of their northward migration in the
spring these birds abandon the seacoast and take up their
summer residence far in the interior, from 300 to 500 miles
from salt water. This involves a great altitudinal shift.
Instead of living at sea level as they do at other seasons,
during nesting time they are to be found on barren,
rocky mountains high up above timber line. During the
entire summer we never found these birds below 4,000 feet
elevation.
The rocky character of the surf birds’ surroundings appears
to remain fairly constant throughout the year. In summer
the birds are to be found most frequently near the summits
of the rock slides where the broken rocks are much the
same as the rugged reefs they inhabit during the winter.
We found in the Mount McKinley district that the summer
range of the surf bird was almost identical with that of
the mountain sheep and that it was useless to look for surf
birds outside of “sheep” country.
When standing on a barren wind-swept ridge late in the
afternoon of May 28, searching a nearby hillside with
binoculars, Mr. Wright’s attention was attracted to a
grayish bird that was sneaking hurriedly along over the
rocky ground. As he watched, the bird apparently faded
out of sight some 600 feet away. Marking the point of
disappearance he hurried over to the spot where the bird
was last seen and, falling to find the bird, began to think
he was mistaken. But, upon his taking one more step, the
bird flew up suddenly right into his face, startling him
mightily. As the bird flew away, the large white rump
patch, together with a white patch on either wing, brought
realization that this was the long-sought-for surf bird. A
hasty glance at his feet revealed the nest and contents of
four eggs. Another step forward and he would have placed
his foot directly in the nest! To George M. Wright belongs
the honor of being the first white man, of which we have
any record, to lay eyes on the nest and eggs of this rare
bird.
The surf bird’s nest was located 1,000 feet above timber
line on a rocky ridge that faced southwest and lay fair to
the sun and hence was relatively free from snow. The nest
site was on dry rocky ground and not on the wet tundra
which was plentiful nearby. The rocky ground about the nest
was clothed with a thin carpet of alpine-arctic vegetation,
the tallest of which were a few creeping arctic willows
less than 2 inches high. The most conspicuous plant about
the nest was the white-flowered _Dryas integrifolia_. The
nest was entirely out in the open with no bushes that
afford the least concealment. In fact it was almost “out
in the street,” since the eggs were within a foot of a
frequently traveled trail of the white Alaska mountain
sheep (_Ovis dalli_). There was no fabricated nest such
as the wandering tattler makes. Instead, the eggs were
deposited in a natural erosional depression, the sides
of which had been lined with a few bits of dried-up
grayish-green lichens and caribou moss. The bottom of the
nest was composed of the dead emarginate leaves of _Dryas
integrifolia_, which only partially covered the crumbling
serpentine outcrop that formed the backbone of the ridge.
The nest, which was barely large enough to hold the four
eggs, which were placed as close together as possible, with
little ends down, measured 4 inches in diameter and an inch
and a half in depth. The eggs in the nest blended so well
with the reddish brown moss of the tundra that it became
difficult to make them out at a distance of more than 8 or
10 feet.
The nest was found at nearly 9 o’clock in the evening. They built a
crude shelter of rocks near it and kept a careful watch over it all
that night and half of the next day. During this time Mr. Dixon (1927)
made these observations:
When it began to rain the surf bird merely fluffed up and
then spread out the feathers on his back so as completely
to cover the nest. This proved an effective method,
because the melting snow and the rain ran readily off the
surf-bird’s back and was absorbed by the moss outside the
nest. We were not so well protected and were soon shivering
and wet to the skin.
At 4 o’clock a female mountain sheep appeared, silently,
like a ghost, out of the mist that came drifting over the
mountain peaks in great white swirls. She did not see us
at first, but when she was within 6 feet of and headed
directly toward the surf-bird’s nest she became suddenly
aware of our presence and took a step or two forward.
When the ewe was about to step on the nest the surf bird
suddenly “exploded” right in the astonished animal’s face.
This unexpected movement and the sudden noise and flash
of white of the bird’s spread wings and tail caused the
mountain sheep to jump back quickly; then she whirled
around and bounded off back up the trail. This sudden
movement of the surf bird at the critical moment doubtless
serves to prevent sheep and caribou from trampling upon its
nest and eggs. We found through repeated experiments that
this was the bird’s regular reaction. When we approached,
whether fast or slow, the bird would stay on the nest until
the last minute, and then, instead of sneaking off low to
the ground like most birds do, would fly directly up into
our faces. Even after we knew that the bird would do this
the psychological result on our part was the same. A person
would involuntarily recoil when the bird “exploded” like a
firecracker right in his face.
When first frightened off the nest by Mr. Wright the
previous afternoon the bird, which we later thought might
have been the female, after “exploding,” ran away with
wings half spread and the tail spread out fanlike and
dragging on the ground. This displayed conspicuously the
white rump patch. Now and then this bird would nestle down
as though covering a nest. When about 100 yards distant
from the nest the bird began to wander about, pretending
to feed. It exhibited no concern whatever when Mr. Wright
returned to the nest and examined the eggs. It made no
attempt to return to the nest even after the observer
had retired to a distance and waited for a period of 10
minutes, during which interval rain began to fall.
In marked contrast with this rather indifferent attitude,
the bird which was watched on the nest for 16 hours,
behaved in an entirely different manner. This second bird,
when forced off the nest, would fly directly up into the
intruder’s face, and then run off to one side, a distance
of 8 or 10 feet, where it would perch on a rock, fluff out
its feathers like a “sitting” hen and utter a low plaintive
call, _tee-tee-teet!_ The call would often be repeated
two or three times after a slight pause of half a minute
between calls. When we started after this bird it would
lead us adroitly away from the nest; but if we stood still
it would soon hustle directly back, even when we were
standing only 10 feet distant. In going on to the nest the
bird was very careful not to step directly upon the eggs.
It would trot up to within a foot or so of the eggs and
then sneak cautiously down to the edge of the nest. Here it
would stop, inspect the eggs, and reach out with its bill
and turn the eggs about, keeping them little ends down.
Following this inspection the bird fluffed out the feathers
on its breast and sitting down gently on the edge of the
nest, slid its body forward with great care, until the eggs
were completely covered.
_Eggs._--I have not yet seen these eggs, so I will quote Mr. Dixon’s
(1927) excellent description of them:
The eggs of the surf bird are not easily confused with the
eggs of any other North American sandpiper or plover. In
shape they are pyriform but, though similar in form to eggs
of other birds of the order Limicolae, in color they appear
more like eggs of the falcons, particularly certain eggs of
the sparrow hawk and prairie falcon.
In the type set, which is now safely housed in the
well-known Thayer collection, there is considerable
variation both in the ground color and in the markings of
the eggs. Three eggs of this set have an intensely buffy
ground color, while the fourth egg is of the same color
but decidedly lighter. The markings on the three eggs are
bold, varying in color from fawn to bay. The markings
on the fourth egg are small and evenly distributed. The
four eggs may be described as follows: The first egg has
a light ground color which equals tilleul-buff. In this
egg the marking consists of fine splashes, one-half to
two millimeters in length. There is but slight tendency
for the markings to form a wreath on the larger end. A
few small dark brown spots on its larger end identifies
this egg, which resembles slightly certain eggs of the
yellow-billed magpie. In egg number two the ground color
is rich tilleul-buff, while the markings consist of bold
bay-colored spots and splashes from one-half to three
millimeters in length. These spots are concentrated about
the larger end of the egg, where in places they are so
dense as completely to obscure the ground color. A few
deep-seated lavender under-shell markings are apparent
on this egg. Egg number three is similar both in ground
color and in markings to egg number two, except in egg
number three the heavy bay markings form a decided wreath
21 millimeters in diameter about its larger end. Egg
number four has the richest ground color of all, while its
markings are fawn, but the markings are not so sharply
defined as in the other eggs.
The four eggs measure =43.7= by 30.5, 41.5 by =31.5=, 43.3 by 31.2, and
=42.4= by =31=, and they average 42.7 by 31 millimeters.
_Young._--Mr. Dixon (1927) demonstrated most conclusively that the male
does most, if not all, of the incubating. The bird that they had under
observation for 16 hours and the only one seen near the nest proved
to be the male. All of the five males collected had bare incubation
patches, while none of the females had these. Mr. Murie (1924) found
both parents attending the young bird which he captured; and the one
shot, probably the more solicitous one, was the male. Evidence is
accumulating all the time to show that with more shore birds than we
realize, perhaps with all, the males perform the greater part of the
domestic duties.
_Plumages._--The young bird taken by Mr. Murie is still in the downy
stage. The upper parts are variegated and mottled with “cinnamon buff,”
brownish black, “sepia,” and buffy white; the forehead and sides of
the head are buffy white, boldly spotted and striped with black; the
crown is mainly spotted with black; the buffy tints are mainly on the
upper back, wings, thighs, and rump; the under parts are grayish white,
whitest on the chin and belly.
When the young birds come down to the coast of Alaska, in August,
they are in full juvenal plumage. In this the crown is streaked with
“fuscous” and brownish black, the feathers having white edgings; the
chin and throat are white, with shaft streaks of “hair brown”; there
is a broad band of “hair brown” across the breast, with white edgings,
running into spots below, which are lacking on the white belly; the
mantle is “hair brown,” with very narrow whitish edgings, giving a
scaled appearance; the scapulars also have a subterminal “fuscous” bar;
the lesser and median wing coverts are broadly or conspicuously edged
with grayish white.
A partial postjuvenal molt in the early fall produces a first winter
plumage which is like the adult winter, except that there are fewer and
smaller spots on the under parts; and the juvenal wing coverts and some
scapulars are retained.
Two specimens, collected in Peru on June 30, illustrate the first
nuptial plumage. These are doubtless birds which do not migrate north
to breed during their first year. Apparently a nearly complete molt
has taken place, as the wings and tail appear fresh, but some of the
old scapulars and wing coverts are retained. The adult nuptial plumage
is suggested, but all traces of cinnamon are lacking; the feathers of
the mantle are “fuscous” or “hair brown,” broadly edged with grayish
white and subterminally bordered with brownish black; the crown is
grayish white, streaked with dusky; the scapulars are “fuscous” to
brownish black, broadly tipped, notched, or spotted with pale grayish;
the breast and flanks are less heavily marked than in the adult. I have
not seen this plumage described elsewhere. At the next molt the adult
winter plumage is assumed.
Adults have a complete postnuptial molt in August; I have seen one
with primaries and secondaries molting as early as August 27. In
adult winter plumage the upper parts are uniform “fuscous,” with only
slightly lighter (“hair brown”) edgings; the chin and throat are white,
spotted with “hair brown”; there is a broad band of “hair brown” across
the chest and below it the under parts are marked on the breast and
flanks with hastate spots of “fuscous.”
A partial prenuptial molt of the body plumage takes place in April and
May, but some of the old winter feathers are generally retained. In
full nuptial plumage the head and neck are grayish white, everywhere
boldly streaked, or spotted, with black and slightly suffused on the
crown with “pinkish cinnamon”; the feathers of the back are centrally
black, broadly edged with white and tinged with “pinkish cinnamon”; but
the most striking features of this plumage are the scapulars, boldly
patterned with “pinkish cinnamon” and black, with narrow whitish tips;
the white under parts are boldly marked, especially on the breast and
flanks, with hastate, subcordate, or crescentic spots of brownish
black. The cinnamon colors fade during the breeding season to pale buff
and eventually to white in July birds.
_Food._--On its breeding grounds in summer the surf bird feeds almost
entirely on insects, mainly flies and beetles. The analysis of the
stomach contents of eight birds, taken in Alaska and examined by the
Biological Survey, shows the following proportions: Diptera, 55.2 per
cent; Coleoptera, 36 per cent; Lepidoptera, 3.8 per cent; Hymenoptera,
3.3 per cent; Phalangidea, 1 per cent; snails, 5 per cent; and seeds, 2
per cent. Mr. Dixon (1927) says of its feeding habits:
Three days later seven surf birds were found feeding in
company at midday near this same spot. This time they were
foraging near the top of a very steep talus slope that lay
fair to the sun. Only a few scant flowers grew amid the
rocks, but insects were numerous and active. One surf bird
which, when later collected, proved to be a male stood
guard while the others fed. The slightest movement on my
part was sufficient to cause a warning note to be given
by this sentinel. When feeding, these birds ran hurriedly
over the rocks, traveling as fast or faster than a man
could walk. When an insect was sighted the pursuing surf
bird would stretch out its neck as far and as straight as
possible. Then moving stealthily forward the bird would
make a final thrust and secure the insect in its bill, much
in the same manner that a turkey stalks a grasshopper.
At other seasons the surf bird feeds along the water line on ocean
beaches, preferring the rocky or stony shores, or reefs exposed at
low tide; here it extracts the soft parts of barnacles, mussels, or
other crustaceans and small mollusks, or picks up other minute forms
of marine life. It also feeds to some extent at the surf line on
sandy beaches or on mud flats, where it picks up similar food from
the surface without probing for it. At such times the birds are quite
pugnacious unless sufficiently scattered.
_Behavior._--Mr. Dixon (1927) writes:
On June 18 three surf birds were seen close under the
summit of a mountain. Here they occasionally ran about
and picked up insects, but more often they stood still on
exposed rocks and preened their feathers. One of these
three birds frequently raised both wings willet fashion
over its back until they almost met. These individuals
were exceedingly shy and would not allow the naturalist to
approach closer than 100 yards. We found that this timidity
was customary during the nesting season, when the birds
were encountered away from the immediate vicinity of the
nest.
At 8 o’clock on the evening of June 24 I climbed to the
crest of a sharp ridge of one of the lower spurs of the
main Alaskan Range. As I reached the highest peak four
surf birds flew in from a distance. As they circled about
the peak they called, _tee, tee teet_ loudly. Their flight
was swift and plover-like. As they turned the white basal
portions of their tails together with the white bars of
their wings formed four white V’s which stood out vividly
in the strong glow of the evening sun. They circled the
peak several times, calling loudly and evidently seeking
for others of their kind. Soon there was an answering call
from the ground and the four birds settled down on a rocky
spur where three other surf birds were already feeding.
When I crawled up to within 50 yards of them all seven
birds ceased feeding and began to call loudly. After a
period of several minutes they began to feed again, one
remaining on guard while the others ran hither and thither
chasing insects over the rocks and tundra.
Florence M. Bailey (1916) says of the behavior of surf birds on the
California coast:
At high tide one day two of the surf birds were standing
on the sand ridge just above the water resting from their
labors, one with its back to the incoming waves staring
ahead of it as if lost in reverie. On the beach one of the
silent, solitary _Aphrizas_ would often stand facing me, as
if studying me intently, when, though I could not read its
innermost thoughts, I had a good chance to note its light
forehead and eye line, its white underparts, and streaked
chest. Two of the droll birds were found one day engaged
in an amusing performance that suggested the sparring of
boys. One turned sideways to the other as if on guard, then
dropped the wing on that side and spread its tail till the
white rump showed. The other in turn spread its tail and
they hopped over each other, doing this a number of times.
They would also dip their bills menacingly, and one of them
sat down several times as part of the play. As they flew
off they gave their wild _key-wé-ah_.
When wanting to move down the beach one often flew close
along under the green wall of the combing surf. When it
alit its wings would be held out for an instant showing
the clear white line down their length and the broad
white base of the tail with the dusky tip. When on shore
they stood around so much with their preoccupied dreamy
gaze that, when one took wing and flew with swift strong
wing strokes out across the surf and over the ocean, a
disappearing white spot, you stood bewildered. Your idle
dreamer was a child of the sea! Perhaps when it stood on
the sandy beach with preoccupied gaze it was dreaming of
its rocky surf-dashed home to the north, or of its rocky
surf-dashed winter home to the south. How well its wild,
keen, plaintive _key-ah-wee_ tells the story!
_Field marks._--While standing on rocks, at a distance or when the
light is poor, surf birds might be mistaken for black turnstones, but
they are somewhat larger. They are more stockily built and generally
darker colored than other shore birds. But in flight they may be easily
recognized by the broad white band in the wing, and by the white upper
tail coverts and basal half of the tail; they lack the broad white
patch in the center of the back and white stripes, which distinguish
the turnstones.
_Fall._--The birds apparently leave their breeding grounds in July and
move down to the coast of Alaska; some reach Oregon before the end
of July and California early in August. Apparently the adults come
first. Young birds have been taken on the coast of southern Alaska as
early as August 27 and have been noted at St. Michael up to the last
of September. During the fall they move gradually down the coast,
lingering for the winter at favorable places.
_Winter._--The surf bird winters in small numbers, occasionally if not
regularly, as far north as Wrangell, Alaska. Carl Lien has sent me the
following notes from the coast of Washington:
Destruction Island lies 50 miles south of Cape Flattery
and 3 out from the mainland. It is 35 acres in extent
and surrounded by extensive reefs which are uncovered at
low tide. There are numerous rocky ridges that are well
above the water at high tide, these ridges forming little
protected bays and harbors.
I first went to this island in December, 1910. On nice days
when the sea was smooth it was my custom to row around the
reefs observing the birds. I found the surf birds generally
in company with Aleutian sandpipers and black turnstones.
There would be a half dozen on this reef and similar
bunches on neighboring reefs. Their actions were very
lively, now running to a higher point on the rock as the
wash from the swell came rushing up, now running down again
as the water receded, feeding busily. The only thing I ever
found in their stomachs was small mussels about an eighth
of an inch long, occasionally up to a quarter of an inch.
The following autumn they returned though I did not note
the date. I saw them from time to time during the winter
in the winters of 1912–13, 1913–14, 1914–15, 1915–16,
1916–17. They would arrive the last week in October or the
first week in November. The flock on its first arrival
would number about 200 birds. They would begin to leave
the island the 1st of April and by the 1st of May there
would be none left. They did not visit the high parts of
the island but confined themselves to the reefs and gravel
bars. They were very wary and hard to approach on foot
though they would sometimes allow a boat to come within 10
yards.
DISTRIBUTION
_Range._--Western North and South America.
_Breeding range._--The breeding range of the surf bird is evidently
in the higher mountains of the interior of Alaska. The nest and eggs
have been found on one occasion only, in the Mount McKinley district
(Dixon, 1927), but Murie (1924) found young, apparently about a week
old, at the headwaters of Forty-mile River. There also seems a strong
probability that the species breeds in the Selawik Range on the south
side of the Kowak Valley (Grinnell, 1900), and in the region around the
head of the Savage River in the Alaska Range (Murie, 1924).
Sharing a trait with other shore birds, some nonbreeders frequently
remain through the summer at points far south of the breeding
grounds. During this period they have been noted in California (Santa
Barbara and the Farallone Islands); Oregon (Newport); and Washington
(Destruction Island and Camp Mora, Clallam County).
_Winter range._--In winter the surf bird is found on the Pacific coast
both of North and South America. It has been detected south to the
Straits of Magellan (Van Island in Trinity Channel), and at other
points on the coast of Chile (Valdivia, Paposo, and Atacama); and Peru
(Pisco Bay). At this season in North America it has been collected
or observed in California (Monterey and probably San Francisco Bay
region); Oregon (Cape Meares, Cannon Beach, and the entrance to Yaquina
Bay); Washington (Jefferson County and Destruction Island); and Alaska
(Wrangel and Craig). These latter records would appear to indicate that
some individuals are only partially migratory.
_Migration._--Because of the extensive areas that may be occupied by
the species, particularly in winter, and in view of the scarcity of
existing data, it is difficult to present an adequate picture of its
migrations. The following dates may, however, throw some light on its
movements.
_Spring migration._--Early dates of arrival are Lower California, San
Geronimo Island, March 15; California, San Diego, March 19; Oregon,
Newport, March 21; Washington, Puget Sound, March 8; and Alaska,
Admiralty Island, April 17, Forrester Island, April 20, Kuiu Island,
April 25, Craig, May 9, and Kobuk River, May 29.