California, San Geronimo Island, April 13, Turtle Bay, April 14,
and Abreojos Point, April 19; California, Los Angeles, May 1, Santa
Barbara, May 4, Point Pinos, May 10, and San Nicolas Island, May 15;
Oregon, Newport, May 3; and Washington, Jefferson County, April 28.
_Fall migration._--Early dates of fall arrival are: Alaskan coast,
Sitka, July 21, and Nushagak, August 9; British Columbia, Porcher
Island, July 12, and Queen Charlotte Islands, August 2; Oregon,
Newport, July 24; and California, Monterey Bay, August 3, and Point
Pinos, August 5.
Late dates of fall departure are: Alaska, Craig, September 4, Sitka,
September 5, and Nome, September 9; British Columbia, Comox, September
2; Oregon, Netarts Bay, November 19; and California, Berkeley, October
24.
_Egg dates._--Alaska: One record, May 28, 1926.
ARENARIA INTERPRES (Linnaeus)
TURNSTONE
HABITS
The above species is cosmopolitan; it has a circumpolar breeding range,
and its migrations extend over nearly all of the Northern Hemisphere
and a large part of the Southern. It has been split into two, or
possibly three, geographical races. In the author’s opinion only two
races should be recognized; the Palaearctic form, _interpres_, averages
slightly larger, and is decidedly darker, the black predominating over
the rufous on the upper parts; the Nearctic form, _morinella_, averages
slightly smaller, is decidedly lighter, the rufous predominating on
the upper parts; these two races are well marked and are generally
recognized. The Pacific race has been described under the name
_oahuensis_, from specimens taken on Oahu Island in the Hawaiian group.
It is supposed to breed in Alaska and spend the winter in the Hawaiian
and other Pacific islands. It seems to be strictly intermediate, both
in size and color, between _interpres_ and _morinella_. Some of the
best authorities have not recognized it in nomenclature, which seems to
be a wise course. For the purpose of this life history the species as a
whole will be considered.
_Spring._--The northward migration of the ruddy turnstone through the
United States is accomplished mainly during May, but many linger along
through the first week in June. I have seen turnstones in Louisiana
as late as June 17 and 23, but some that I shot were immature birds,
apparently 1 year old, which probably would not breed that season.
Arthur T. Wayne (1910) has seen high plumaged birds in South Carolina
on June 11 and 12, which were doubtless late migrants; but he says that
birds in immature or winter plumage are seen in June more frequently
than adults. These latter illustrate the well-established fact that
many shore birds do not attain their full plumage and do not breed
during their first year, but remain within their winter ranges or far
south of their breeding ranges all summer.
Many observers have stated that turnstones do not migrate in large
flocks in the spring, but I have seen some very large flocks on Cape
Cod containing several hundred. On the coast of New Jersey during
the latter part of May, 1927, we saw a wonderful flight of this and
other shore birds; on the 20th we counted 3,600 turnstones, on the
26th 4,500, on the 27th 5,000, and on the 28th 7,000; many of these
were in immense flocks of this species only, but more often they were
associated in large flocks with black-bellied plovers; one enormous
flock of the two species was estimated to contain 3,500 birds.
The main migration route is along the sea coast. Migrants have been
known to reach Massachusetts as early as May 1, and my latest date
is June 5; but the main flight comes during the latter half of May.
Dr. W. Elmer Ekblaw tells me that it reaches its breeding grounds in
northwestern Greenland during the first week in June.
There is a regular migration northward through the interior, but
in much smaller numbers. Pierce Brodkorb and Frank Grasett give
me dates for northeastern Illinois from April 30 to June 18. We
collected specimens in Nelson County, N. Dak., on June 5, and at
Lake Winnipegosis, Manitoba, on June 1 and 2; but we did not record
the species at all during the two seasons spent in southwestern
Saskatchewan. Prof. William Rowan tells me that it is rare in his
section of Alberta. The route is evidently northward from Manitoba
through the Athabaska-Mackenzie region. Samuel F. Rathbun has sent me
the following notes on the former abundance of turnstones in Manitoba:
In that Province we spent the greater part of the spring
and summer of 1889, and on one occasion went to Lake
Manitoba driving as directly as possible across what was
then an unsettled country. We clambered up one of the dunes
and looked over its top, and right in front of us and up
and down the beach almost as far as could be seen, were
countless numbers of shore birds. On the sands nearly all
of these were in constant motion, while over the surface of
the lake flocks were flying to and fro. By far the greater
number of the birds were turnstones and the flocks of these
were always very large. I hesitate to give my estimate
of the number seen, but I made many counts and forming a
rough guess from these judged at the time that there must
have been somewhere near eight or ten thousand of the
turnstones. And I have always believed this estimate to be
somewhere near correct. This was on the 30th of May and it
may have been that we were fortunate to have happened to
witness the height of the movement of these birds.
The ruddy turnstone is a rather uncommon migrant on the Pacific coast
in April and May. Mr. Rathbun says in his notes that it--
appears to be a regular spring migrant along the ocean
coast of Washington, first being seen in early May. The
earlier birds seem to arrive in small numbers, to be
followed by flocks of fair size, but at no time are the
turnstones as common as are most of the other species of
shore birds that migrate along the coast.
From its winter home in Australia the turnstone makes an early start
for its long flight over the ocean; W. B. Alexander tells me that his
latest record is of a pair seen April 25, 1914, on the estuary of the
Lost River on the south coast of western Australia. The Pacific form
of the turnstone has been named _oahuensis_ from a specimen taken on
the island where Honolulu is situated. The birds leave the Hawaiian
Islands in May and probably make a 2,000-mile flight over the Pacific
Ocean to the Commander and Aleutian Islands. Dr. Leonhard Stejneger
(1885) says that they make their appearance in the Commanders “early in
May (in 1883 the first ones were observed on the 7th), and the beach,
especially on the north shore of Bering Island, fairly swarms with
them. In June they disappear, and only a few remain during the summer.”
In his notes from Hooper Bay, Alaska, H. B. Conover says: “On May 15
Du Fresne shot the first bird of this species. He had found it sitting
humped up on a log showing through the snow. The next day a pair was
seen, and after that date they were noticed constantly. On May 28 the
migration still must have been going on, as a flock of about 20 was
seen mixed with 6 golden plover.”
_Courtship._--Doctor Ekblaw has sent me the following notes:
The ruddy turnstone is almost if not quite as common as
the ringed plover along the beaches and about the gravelly
moraines and terraces of northwest Greenland. It comes to
the land the first week in June, frequenting the drifts of
kelp along the shore when the ice foot has melted away.
There they probe about the shells and seaweed, turning the
long drifts over to a depth of 3 inches. Where they have
worked, the shore looks as if a drove of tiny pigs had
rooted about.
They begin mating as soon as they arrive, and many a
bitter struggle and amorous courtship takes place among
these birds during the first two weeks of June. The males
outnumber the females, so the rivalry is keen. As the
lowering sun of the day sinks nearest the midnight horizon
the wooing antics are at the height. Frequently two males
pursue the same female, seeking to win her favor, the while
they are combating one another for the advantage. In giddy,
reckless flight they sweep back and forth along the shore,
rarely rising more than 3 feet above the beach, usually but
a foot. When alighted the pursuit is just as eager, the
female racing about to escape the insistent attentions of
the males, the males eagerly pursuing her and struggling
between themselves for supremacy. The more pugnacious
usually wins out, though the other never gives up hope.
The Rev. F. C. R. Jourdain contributes the following notes on the
subject:
A study of the published records of the breeding habits of
the turnstone discloses the fact that practically nothing
has ever been written on the courtship and song of this
species. The only apparent exception is a passage by A.
Trevor-Battye (1895), who says: “This lovely bird has a
far more elaborate song than that of any wader I know. You
really may call it a song. I put it down at the time as
_chewah, chewah, chewecki, ki-ki-ki kee kee_, and he sings
it _con amore_ from any little mound.” My first experience
with the turnstone dates back to 1921, when with Mr. A.
H. Paget Wilkes we found the nests of some 19 pairs in
Spitsbergen. It was then late in the breeding season; every
pair had incubated eggs or young, but directly one arrived
within range of a breeding pair the cock would fly out to
meet us and greet us with his little challenge song. As a
rule attempts to describe the notes of birds by means of
letters are chiefly remarkable for their discrepancies,
but if Mr. Paget Wilkes’s version of the “attack note” is
compared with that of Mr. Trevor-Battye, the resemblance is
striking, _tche-wick ... tsche-wick, tche-wi-i-i-i-i-i-ck_.
Obviously the two “songs” are the same, yet we heard this
challenge daily from birds far advanced in incubation
and even with newly hatched young. It continued as long
as we remained in the neighborhood of the nest, and was
sometimes repeated in a weaker form by the female. When
the young were being brooded by the male and the female
was on guard this challenge note was uttered by her.
There is, of course, a strong element of challenge in all
bird song, and the turnstone is a born fighter. No foe is
too formidable to be attacked and driven off. It is most
amusing to see a male chasing a bird ten times as big as
himself and returning complacently to his sentry duty until
the approach of another probable enemy brings him again to
the attack.
There is little doubt that all the “singing” males met with
by Trevor-Battye were really breeding birds defending the
territories and, as they fondly imagined, driving him away.
Of course the cheery little _chirrup_ of the turnstone has
no claim to musical excellence in spite of Trevor-Battye’s
exaggerated praise; no one could possibly compare it to
the sweet wild notes of the curlew or even the flutelike
notes of the purple sandpiper. Apparently in this species
the fighting instinct has replaced the tendency to display
on the wing before the female; and while many other waders
utter musical notes during the love flight the turnstone
reserves his for the attack.
_Nesting._--Comparatively few nests of the ruddy turnstone have
ever been found, as the bird nests in the far north, where few
ornithologists have been. A set of three eggs in my collection, taken
by Capt. Joseph Bernard on Taylor Island, Victoria Land, on August
1, 1917, possibly a second laying, was in a hollow on the tundra.
MacFarlane found only two sets on the lower Anderson River, which were
precisely similar to those of the other waders, consisting of a few
withered leaves placed in a depression in the ground, each containing
four eggs. Eggs collected by Rev. A. R. Hoare at Point Hope, Alaska,
were laid “in depressions on mossy ridges of the tundra.” Herbert W.
Brandt has sent me the following notes on the nesting habits of these
birds in Alaska:
At Hooper Bay the ruddy turnstone like the indigenous
plovers is an open-nesting bird and it depends for
concealment of its eggs upon the similarity of the shell
coloration to its surroundings. Near a limpid pool in
the low-rolling dunes the bird makes a shallow, circular
depression in the brownish green, velvetlike moss and this
it lines, haphazardly, with a few moss stems and often with
small crisp leaves of low-creeping woody plants. The range
of measurements of five nests is: Inside diameter, 3¾ to 4½
inches; inside depth, 1 to 1½ inches; and depth over all is
1 to 1¾ inches. The pied parents follow the habits of the
open-nesting birds, for they are wild and unapproachable
while breeding; so that in spite of its exposed location
the nest is anything but easy to find. Incubation patches
were present on both sexes and they did not employ, to
lure the intruder from the nesting area, the usual wounded
tactics of the other shore birds.
In the Eastern Hemisphere numerous nests have been found and
considerable has been published on the subject. Henry J. Pearson
(1904), during his three summers in Russian Lapland, found several
nests of the turnstone. On June 13, 1899, on Little Heno Island, he
found a nest with four fresh eggs on a low sand spit. “The nest was
placed in a patch of dwarf sallow, 10 inches high, and near the edge of
a bank, the slight depression being lined with a few dry grasses and
dead leaves.” Another nest was found on June 27 on Great Heno. After
watching the bird in vain for a long time on “a bare stretch of peat,
with scarcely a scrap of vegetation and full of puffin holes,” they
returned the next day and flushed the turnstone out of a puffin hole;
“and there was a nest 18 inches from the mouth, containing three eggs
more than half incubated; a few dead sorrel stalks had been taken in to
form the nest.” On June 19, 1901, on Medveji Island, a nest was found
“placed under a large overhanging shelf of peat, in such a position
that the bird could slip on and off in two different directions
according to that from which danger was threatened. The young were
formed in the four incubated eggs.” He refers to two other nests found
on a sand spit, which were “on the open ground with no protection
beyond a few blades of grass.”
W. C. Hewitson (1856) found a nest on the coast of Norway on “a flat
rock, bare except where here and there grew tufts of grass, or stunted
juniper clinging to its surface”; the nest “was placed against a ledge
of the rock, and consisted of nothing more than the drooping leaves of
the juniper bush, under a creeping branch of which the eggs, four in
number, were snugly concealed.”
A number of nests of the turnstone were found by the Oxford expedition
to Spitsbergen, about which A. H. Paget-Wilkes (1922) has given us
considerable information. He says that “in spite of the presence of
large and small boulders and stones the turnstone in Spitsbergen does
not lay its eggs under the shelter of this somewhat scanty cover or
in the small holes or pockets in the soil, but chooses perfectly
open and bare, wind-swept places for its breeding sites.” Some seven
nests were found on islands and one of these is described as “a very
flat depression among small stones on a small ridge of dry, red mud.”
Other nests were scattered along the shore at intervals of about
three-quarters of a mile; but in one place five or six pairs were
nesting within a radius of half a mile. One nest was on a little island
of hard mud, only three yards by two yards in a stream. The turnstones
are very active and aggressive in defending their nests against
the jaegers; these marauders are persistently harried, desperately
attacked, and finally driven away.
Ralph Chislett (1925) gives an interesting account of finding the
turnstone breeding on a Baltic isle, where the nests were hidden among
the dense herbage. He says:
Against the sky, not more than 30 yards away, appearing
over the top of a rise in the ground, as seen from the
hiding tent, was a group of chervil flower heads. One of
the turnstones, on taking wing, flew directly to these
flower heads and appeared to settle in the midst of them.
After giving the bird time to get settled on the eggs (I
hoped) I crawled out of the tent, and keeping low was
within 6 yards of the chervil clump when the turnstone took
wing from a point 2 yards on the other side, repeating its
cry much more meaningly than hitherto. I had been prepared
to find the nest under shelter of some sort, but had not
expected the eggs to be so completely hidden from view as
proved to be the case here. The nest lay on the seaward
side of the clump. To obtain a view for the camera, a tall
chervil stalk, some leaves, and grasses had to be removed.
The definite scrape was lined with bits of seaweed and dry
grass stems to a depth of more than 1 inch.
_Eggs._--Mr. Brandt has sent me the following good description of the
turnstone’s eggs collected by his party in Alaska:
The ruddy turnstone lays four eggs and these may justly
claim rank as some of the handsomest of all the delightful
Hooper Bay limicoline series. They are subpyriform to
ovate in shape and lie points together in the shallow
nest. The shell is glossy and smooth and is quite strong.
The markings seldom cover more than half the area of the
eggs and in consequence the ground color is prominent. The
latter is quite variable, ranging from “yellowish glaucous”
to “olive buff” and even “deep olive buff.” The surface
markings are usually bold and are most heavily concentrated
on the larger end, but one striking type is known for its
beautiful marbled effect as the spots which are large and
clouded softly fade into the glossy ground color. These
spots are irregular in outline and are often slightly
elongate, twisting into a pronounced clockwise spiral. The
usual color of the primary spots is “warm sepia,” but in
the greenish setting they are “olive brown” while in the
marbled type “citrine drab” is the prevailing shade. When
the underlying markings are given prominence their soft
tones add to the beauty of the eggs. The colors of these
partially hidden ornaments range from “pale mouse gray” to
“mouse gray.” The additional markings of brownish black
to black are sparsely scattered over the larger part of
the egg usually in the form of small spots or pen-like
scratches. The vitality of the shore birds is attested by
the fact that four turnstone’s eggs laid in four days weigh
2½ ounces, while the parent bird herself weighs but 3½
ounces.
Most of the turnstone’s eggs that I have seen are easily recognizable,
though the distinctive features are more easily seen than described.
The markings are usually quite evenly distributed and the egg well
covered with them. The 12 eggs so well illustrated on Frank Poynting’s
(1895) beautiful plate, all taken from European eggs, show some
variations not mentioned by Mr. Brandt. The buffy ground colors range
from “dark olive buff” to “olive buff”; and greenish ones from “water
green” to “yellowish glaucous.” One plain-looking egg is “dark olive
buff” with faint markings of a slightly darker shade. Another is
“water green” with numerous, small, almost black spots, and underlying
small spots of “light mouse gray.” The measurements of 100 European
eggs furnished by the Rev. F. C. R. Jourdain, average 40.5 by 29.2
millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =44.5= by 30.4,
43.2 by =31.3=, =36= by 28.2 and 40.5 by =26= millimeters. Mr. Brandt’s
44 eggs, from Alaska, average slightly smaller, 39 by 28 millimeters;
the extremes of his and all other American and Greenland eggs that I
have measurements of fall within the limits given above for European
eggs. Egg measurements would seem to indicate that Alaska birds should
be referred to _morinella_, the smaller race.
_Young._--The period of incubation does not seem to be known, but it is
a well-established fact that both sexes share in this duty, as well as
in the care of the young. Mr. Paget-Wilkes (1922) says:
Both sexes incubate, but when the eggs are fresh or partly
incubated the hen seems to brood and the cock stands on
guard. When the eggs were within a day or two of hatching
or were just chipping we invariably found the cock
incubating, and when the young were out we always found the
cock looking after the family and the hen, with her duller
plumage and weaker notes, on guard. These characteristics
observed in the cases of 19 pairs should form a useful
basis for further research.
On flushing the cock bird from four young in down on the
Mouettes Islands I was shown an example of his tenacity and
intelligence. I had taken the young birds away in my pocket
and had run back to the boat across a neck of land some
300 yards broad. The cock chased me a little way and then
disappeared. On reaching the sea, however, on the other
side of the small peninsula, I immediately saw the cock fly
around the point and make straight for me, and he stood and
chattered at me until we rowed away in the boat. The hen
put in no appearance at all.
Again, on one of the islands we watched a pair whose
behavior puzzled us, but soon discovered that there were
four young birds being looked after by the cock. The moment
he was flushed the young birds scattered in all directions,
and on our lying down again came back under the fatherly
wing. Before I discovered that the cock incubated in the
last stages I patiently watched a hen running about quite
unconcernedly for almost an hour, and then suddenly jumped
to the conclusion that the cock was sitting. When I got up
the hen gave the alarm note and I flushed the cock from
four chipping eggs.
A. L. V. Manniche (1910) writes:
The parents are very watchful against danger in the
breeding time and when the young ones are small. One of
them will keep a lookout from the summit of a large stone
or a rock while the other is brooding or guiding the young
ones. The bird on guard will discover an approaching enemy
at an incredibly long distance and rush toward him uttering
furious cries. Especially the skua (_Lestris longicauda_)
is a detested enemy of the turnstone. Every day I could
observe the hunting skuas pursued by turnstones. When one
pursuer returned to its district another would appear and
thus every skua was almost always accompanied by at least
one turnstone. Also toward the polar fox the turnstones
would betray great fear, and they would often join from
afar and swoop down on the hated enemy, uttering their
sharpest and most violent cries.
Toward the end of July the young ones were able to fly but
were, however, generally accompanied by the old female. The
young ones would often resort to the upper part of rather
high rocks while the old female incessantly crying and
anxiously flapping tried to divert my attention from them.
When the old female had left her offspring and the country,
these would immediately take to the coast and the mouths of
rivers like other young waders.
_Plumages._--The young turnstone in natal down is not brilliantly, yet
distinctively, colored. The upper parts, including the sides of the
head and neck, wings and thighs, vary from “cream buff” or “chamois” on
the crown and wings to “olive buff” on the neck and flanks. The crown,
back, wings, rump, and thighs are heavily spotted or broadly striped
with black; the center of the crown is largely black and so are the
lores; a broad space above the eyes and the forehead are “cream buff,”
with a black streak in the middle of the latter. There is some whitish
in the center of the back and the entire under parts are pure white.
In full juvenal plumage, Alaska birds in July, the crown and mantle
are dark sepia or blackish brown, the feathers of the crown edged
with sandy brown, those of the back broadly edged with “pinkish buff”
or “cream buff” and the wing coverts still more broadly edged with
“cinnamon buff”; the tertials are edged with “cinnamon”; the feathers
of the rump, the tail coverts, and the tail are tipped with a buffy
wash; the under parts are similar in pattern to those of the adult, but
the black patches are browner and often show buffy tips. The sexes are
practically alike in juvenal and winter plumages.
The first winter plumage is acquired by a partial body molt between
August and November; it can be distinguished from the adult winter
plumage by the presence of some retained tertials, scapulars, and
wing coverts; also it is not so uniformly dark as the adult, is more
streaked with buffy and whitish edgings on the head, neck, and back,
and it has less black in the gorget. The two races are distinguishable
in this plumage, _interpres_ being darker.