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in the original text.
Equal signs “=” before and after a word or phrase indicate =bold=
in the original text.
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Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations
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Many of the entries in the article “THE BIRDS OF THE RED DEER RIVER”
on page 248, have an star before the name of the bird. This star
denotes that specimens were taken or are in the collection of the
Museum of the Geological Survey of Canada.
Old } CONTINUATION OF THE { New
Series, } BULLETIN OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB { Series,
Vol. XLIV } { Vol. XXXVI
The Auk
A Quarterly Journal of Ornithology
Vol. XXXVI APRIL, 1919 No. 2
[Illustration]
PUBLISHED BY
The American Ornithologists’ Union
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.
Entered as second-class mail matter in the Post Office
at Boston, Mass. “Acceptance for mailing at special rate
of postage provided for in Section 1103, Act of October 3,
1917, authorized on September 23, 1918.”
CONTENTS
PAGE
MRS. OLIVE THORNE MILLER.
By _Florence Merriam Bailey_. (Plate VII.) 163
AN EXPERIENCE WITH HORNED GREBES (_Colymbus auritus_).
By _Alexander D. DuBois_. (Plates VIII-X.) 170
HISTORICAL NOTES ON HARRIS’S SPARROW (_Zonotrichia querula_).
_By Harry Harris_ 180
NOTES ON THE STRUCTURE OF THE PALATE IN ICTERIDÆ.
By _Alexander Wetmore_ 190
THE CROW IN COLORADO. By _W. H. Bergtold_ 198
WINTER ROBINS IN NOVA SCOTIA. By _Harrison F. Lewis_ 205
REMARKS ON BEEBE’S ‘TROPICAL WILD LIFE.’ By _Thomas E. Penard_ 217
PROBLEMS SUGGESTED BY NESTS OF WARBLERS OF THE GENUS DENDROICA.
By _John Treadwell Nichols_ 225
ON THE POPULAR NAMES OF BIRDS. By _Ernest Thompson Seton_ 229
THE REALITY OF SPECIES. By _Leverett Mills Loomis_ 235
GEOGRAPHICAL VARIATION IN THE BLACK-THROATED LOONS.
By _A. C. Bent_ 238
REASONS FOR DISCARDING A PROPOSED RACE OF THE GLAUCOUS GULL
(_Larus hyperboreus_). By _Jonathan Dwight, M. D._ 242
THE BIRDS OF THE RED DEER RIVER, ALBERTA. By _P. A. Taverner_ 248
FOURTH ANNUAL LIST OF PROPOSED CHANGES IN THE A. O. U.
CHECK-LIST OF NORTH AMERICAN BIRDS. By _Harry C. Oberholser_ 266
NEW FORMS OF SOUTH AMERICAN BIRDS AND PROPOSED NEW SUBGENERA.
By _Charles B. Cory_ 273
GENERAL NOTES.—Procellariidæ versus Hydrobatidæ, 276;
Long-tailed Jaeger in Indiana. 276;
_Larus canus brachyrhynchus_ in Wyoming, 276;
_Polysticta_ Eyton versus _Stellaris_ Bonaparte, 277;
Further Record of the European Widgeon at Madison, Wis., 277;
A Late Record for _Rallus elegans_ for Maine, 277;
The Proper Name of the Ruff, 278;
Heteractitis versus Heteroscelus, 278;
The Status of _Charadrius rubricollis_ Gmelin, 279;
A Self-tamed Ruffed Grouse, 279;
Unusual Contents of a Mourning Dove’s Nest, 281;
Mourning Dove Wintering in Vermont, 282;
_Thrasaetos_ versus _Harpia_, 282;
The Status of the Generic Name _Archibuteo_, 282;
Harris’s Hawk (_Parabuteo unicinctus harrisi_) in Kansas, 283;
The Proper Name for the Texas Barred Owl, 283;
Concerning a Note of the Long-eared Owl, 283;
The Short-eared Owl Breeding on Nantucket, 284;
Early Occurrence of the Snowy Owl and the Pine Grosbeak
in Monroe County, New York, 285;
The Deep Plantar Tendons in the Puff-birds, Jacamars and
their Allies, 285;
The Status of the Genus _Hypocentor_ Cabanis, 286;
A Correction Involving Some Juncos, 287;
An Additional Record of _Ammodramus savannarum
bimaculutus_ in Eastern Washington, 287;
The Dickcissel in New Hampshire, 288;
Early Nesting of the Loggerhead Shrike, 288;
A Note on the Decrease of the Carolina Wren
near Washington, D. C., 289;
The Affinities of _Chamæthlypis_, 290;
Blue-winged Warbler Feeding a Young Field Sparrow, 291;
The Blue-winged Warbler near Boston, 292;
Nashville Warbler (_Vermivora ruficapilla_)
in New York in Winter, 293;
Four Rare Birds in Sussex County, New Jersey, 293;
Notes from a Connecticut Pine Swamp, 293;
The Name _erythrogaster_, 294;
Constant Difference in Relative Proportions of Parts
as a Specific Character, 295;
“Off” Flavors of Wildfowl, 296.
RECENT LITERATURE.—‘The Game Birds of California,’ 297;
Mathews’ ‘The Birds of Australia,’ 299;
De Fenis on Bird Song in its Relation to Music, 300;
Dwight on a New Gull, 301;
McAtee on the Food Habits of the Mallard Ducks, 301;
Stone on Birds of the Canal Zone. 302;
Shufeldt on the Young Hoatzin, 302;
Riley on Celebes Birds, 302;
Oberholser’s ‘Mutanda Ornithologica V,’ 303;
Miller’s ‘Birds of Lewiston-Auburn and Vicinity,’ 303;
Recent Papers by Bangs, 304;
Economic Ornithology in Recent Entomological Publications, 304;
The Ornithological Journals, 307;
Ornithological Articles in Other Journals, 312;
Publications Received, 314.
CORRESPONDENCE.—Identifications (Characters vs. Geography), 316.
NOTES AND NEWS.—Obituary: Frederick DuCane Godman, 319;
Robert Day Hoyt, 319;
The Mailliard Collection, 320;
Recent Expeditions, 321;
The Flemming Collection, 321;
Rare Birds in the Philadelphia Zoo, 321;
Meeting of the R. A. O. U., 322;
U. S. National Museum Collection, 322;
A. O. U. Check-List, 322;
New National Parks, 322;
Geographic Distribution of A. O. U. Membership, 323;
The Migratory Bird Law, 323;
The Delaware Valley Ornithological Club, 323;
Common Names of Birds, 324;
Birds of Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware, 324.
‘THE AUK,’ published quarterly as the Organ of the AMERICAN
ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION, is edited, beginning with volume for 1912, by
Dr. WITMER STONE.
TERMS:—$3.00 a year, including postage, strictly in advance. Single
numbers, 75 cents. Free to Honorary Fellows, and to Fellows, Members,
and Associates of the A. O. U. not in arrears for dues.
THE OFFICE OF PUBLICATION IS AT 30 BOYLSTON ST., CAMBRIDGE, BOSTON,
MASS.
Subscriptions may also be addressed to DR. JONATHAN DWIGHT, Business
Manager, 134, W. 71ST ST., NEW YORK, N. Y. =Foreign Subscribers= may
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All =articles and communications= intended for publication and all
books and =publications= for notice, may be sent to DR. WITMER STONE,
ACADEMY OF NATURAL SCIENCES, LOGAN SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
Manuscripts for general articles must await their turn for publication
if others are already on file but they must be in the editor’s hands at
least six weeks, before the date of issue of the number for which they
are intended, and manuscripts for ‘General Notes’, ‘Recent Literature’,
etc., not later than the first of the month preceding the date of the
number in which it is desired they shall appear.
[Illustration: PLATE VII. _Olive Thorne Miller_]
THE AUK:
A QUARTERLY JOURNAL OF
ORNITHOLOGY.
————————————————————————————————————————————————
VOL. XXXVI. APRIL, 1919. NO. 2.
————————————————————————————————————————————————
MRS. OLIVE THORNE MILLER.
BY FLORENCE MERRIAM BAILEY.
_Plate VII._
Little more than a month after the last meeting of the A. O. U., at
which greetings were sent from the Council to Mrs. Miller as the oldest
living member of the Union, came the announcement of her death, on
December 26, 1918. Born on June 25, 1831, she had indeed been allotted
a full span, and for thirty-one of her eighty-seven years she had been
associated with the American Ornithologists’ Union joining four years
after it was founded and being made Member in 1901 when that class was
established.
Harriet Mann—for the more familiar name of Olive Thorne Miller was
the pen name adopted after her marriage—was born at Auburn, New York,
where her father, Seth Hunt, was a banker; but she was of New England
ancestry on both sides of the family, her paternal grandfather being
an importing merchant of Boston, and her great-grandfather, Captain
Benjamin Mann, having organized a company during the revolution of
which he was in command at Bunker Hill.
From Auburn the family moved to Ohio when she was eleven years old,
making the journey, in lieu of railroads, by “packet” on the canal
through the Mohawk Valley, by steamer across Lake Erie, and finally
by an old-fashioned thoroughbrace coach for twenty-five miles
through Ohio—a journey full of romance to an imaginative child, and
described entertainingly in one of Mrs. Miller’s delightful and in
this case largely autobiographical child stories, ‘What Happened to
Barbara.’ In Ohio she spent five years in a small college town where
she attended private schools, among them one of the Select Schools
of that generation, with an enrollment of some forty or fifty girls.
At the age of nine, as she says, she “grappled with the problems of
Watts on the Mind!” To offset the dreariness of such work, she and
half a dozen of her intimate friends formed a secret society for
writing stories, two members of the circle afterwards becoming well
known writers. For writing and reading even then were her greatest
pleasures. The strongest influence in her young life, she tells us,
was from books. “Loving them above everything, adoring the very odor
of a freshly printed volume, and regarding a library as nearest heaven
of any spot on earth, she devoured everything she could lay her hands
upon.” As she grew older the shyness from which she had always suffered
increased painfully, and coupled with a morbid sensitiveness as to what
she considered her personal defects made people a terror to her; but
solitary and reticent, she had the writer’s passion for self expression
and it is easy to understand her when she says, “To shut myself up
where no one could see me, and speak with my pen, was my greatest
happiness.”
In 1854, she married Watts Todd Miller, like herself a member of a well
known family of northern New York, and in her conscientious effort to
be a model wife and to master domestic arts to which she had never been
trained, she sacrificed herself unnecessarily. “Many years I denied
myself the joy of my life—the use of my pen,” she tells us, “and it was
not until my children were well out of the nursery that I grew wise
enough to return to it.”
The history of the vicissitudes of her literary life is at once
touching and enlightening. Full of ardor to reform the world, to
prevent needless unhappiness and to set people on the right path, her
first literary attempt was the essay, but as she expressed it, “the
editorial world did not seem to be suffering for any effusions of
mine,” and her manuscripts were so systematically returned that she
was about giving up, concluding during very black days that she had
mistaken her calling; when a practical friend gave her a new point of
view. What did the public care for the opinions of an unknown writer?
she asked. Let her give what it wanted—attractively put information on
matters of fact. Then when her reputation was established, people might
be glad to listen to her views of life.
Philosophically accepting the suggestion, she calmly burned up her
accumulated “sentiments and opinions,” and set about writing what she
termed “sugar-coated pills of knowledge” for children. The first, the
facts of china-making in the guise of a story, she sent to a religious
weekly which had a children’s page, and to her surprise and delight
received a check for it—her first—two dollars! This was apparently
in 1870, and for twelve years, she worked in what she terms that
“Gradgrind field” in which during that period she published some three
hundred and seventy-five articles in religious weeklies, ‘Our Young
Folks,’ ‘The Youth’s Companion,’ ‘The Independent,’ ‘St. Nicholas,’
‘The Chicago Tribune,’ ‘Harper’s,’ ‘Scribner’s,’ and other papers and
magazines, on subjects ranging from the manufacture of various familiar
articles, as needles, thread, and china to sea cucumbers, spiders,
monkeys, and oyster farms; and during those twelve years, in addition
she published five books, the best known of which were perhaps ‘Little
Folks in Feathers and Fur,’ 1873, ‘Queer Pets at Marcy’s,’ 1880, and
‘Little People of Asia,’ 1882.
About this time, having lived in Chicago nearly twenty years, the
Millers, with their two sons and two daughters, moved to Brooklyn,
where they lived until Mr. Miller’s death. Not long after settling
in Brooklyn, when she had spent twelve years mainly on miscellaneous
juvenile work, Mrs. Miller was visited by a friend who gave her a new
subject, completely changing the course of her life. The friend was
none less than Mrs. Sara A. Hubbard, whom she had known as a book
reviewer in Chicago, but who was also an enthusiastic bird woman—later
an Associate of the A. O. U.—and whose greatest desire in coming to New
York had been to see the birds.
As Mrs. Miller naïvely remarks, “of course I could do no less than
to take her to our park, where were birds in plenty.” And here, in
Prospect Park when she was nearly fifty years old—incredible as it
seems in view of her later work—Mrs. Miller got her first introduction
to birds. “I knew absolutely nothing about ornithology,” she confesses;
“indeed, I knew by sight not more than two birds, the English Sparrow
and the Robin, and I was not very sure of a Robin either! I must say
in excuse for myself,” she adds, “that I had never spent any time in
the country and had been absorbed all my life in books. My friend was
an enthusiast, and I found her enthusiasm contagious. She taught me to
know a few birds, a Vireo, the charming Catbird, and the beautiful Wood
Thrush, and indeed before she left me I became so interested in the
Catbird and Thrush that I continued to visit the park to see them, and
after about two summers’ study the thought one day came to me that I
had seen some things that other people might be interested in. I wrote
what I had observed and sent an article to the ‘Atlantic Monthly’ and
it was accepted with a very precious letter from Mr. Scudder, who was
then editor. All this time my love of birds and my interest in them had
been growing, and soon I cared for no other study. I set up a bird-room
in my house to study them winters and I began to go to their country
haunts in the summer.”
Of the bird-room described so interestingly in ‘Bird Ways’ it is only
necessary to say that first and last Mrs. Miller had about thirty-five
species of birds which she bought from the bird stores in winter and
allowed to fly about in her bird room, where she could study them
unobtrusively at her desk by means of skillfully arranged mirrors.
For twenty summers, from 1883 to 1903, she spent from one to three
months in the country studying the wild birds, visiting among other
sections, Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York,
Ohio, North Carolina, Michigan, Colorado, Utah, and California, taking
careful notes in the field and writing them up for publication at
the end of the season. To one who has not known her, the method may
sound deliberate and commercial, but to one who has worked joyfully
by her side, each year’s journey is known to have meant escape from
the world, to the ministering beneficence of Nature. Let her speak for
herself.—“To a brain wearied by the din of the city ... how refreshing
is the heavenly stillness of the country! To the soul tortured by the
sights of ills it cannot cure, wrongs it cannot right, and sufferings
it cannot relieve, how blessed to be alone with nature, with trees
living free, unfettered lives, and flowers content each in its native
spot, with brooks singing of joy and good cheer, with mountains
preaching divine peace and rest!”[1] Freed from city life and the
tortures imposed by her profound human sympathy, each gift of fancy and
imagination, each rare quality of spirit, joined in the celebration of
the new excursion into fields elysian. But while each sight she saw
was given glamour and charm by her imagination and enthusiasm, her New
England conscience ruled her every word and note, and not one jot or
tittle was let by, no word was set down, that could not pass muster
before the bar of scientific truth.
Mrs. Miller’s first bird book was published in 1885 and the others
followed in quick succession although they were interlarded with
magazine articles and books on other subjects—as ‘The Woman’s Club,’
1890, ‘Our Home Pets,’ 1894, ‘Four Handed Folk,’ 1896, and a series
of children’s stories, 1904 to 1907. Her eleven bird books, published
by the Houghton, Mifflin Company, were ‘Bird Ways,’ 1885, ‘In Nesting
Time,’ 1887, ‘Little Brothers of the Air,’ 1892, ‘A Bird Lover in the
West,’ 1894, ‘Upon the Tree Tops,’ 1897, ‘The First Book of Birds,’
1899, ‘The Second Book of Birds,’ 1901, ‘True Bird Stories from my
Note-Books,’ 1902, ‘With the Birds in Maine,’ 1903, ‘The Bird our
Brother,’ 1908, and her last book, ‘The Children’s Book of Birds’—a
juvenile form of the First and Second Book of Birds—1915.
The newspaper and magazine articles of this second period of Mrs.
Miller’s literary work, beginning with the time when she first began
to study birds, were published not only in the principal religious
weeklies and others of the former channels, but by various syndicates,
in ‘Harper’s Bazar,’ and the ‘Atlantic Monthly.’ They included not
only a large number of bird papers, some of which appeared later in
her books, but also articles on general subjects, proving her friend’s
statement, for now that her reputation had become established on a
basis of fact, the public was ready to profit by her “sentiments and
opinions.”
Her last book of field notes—‘With the Birds in Maine’—was published
in 1903, when she was seventy-two, after which time she was able to do
very little active field work and her writing was confined mainly to
children’s books.
In 1902 Mrs. Miller had visited her oldest son, Charles W. Miller,
in California, and fascinated by the outdoor life and the birds and
flowers of southern California, she would have returned to live,
without delay, had it not been that her married daughter, Mrs.
Smith, and her grandchildren lived in Brooklyn. In 1904, however,
accompanied by her younger daughter, Mary Mann Miller, she did return
to California, where her daughter built a cottage on the outskirts of
Los Angeles on the edge of a bird-filled arroyo where rare fruits and
flowers ran riot and the cottage—El Nido—became embowered in vines and
trees.
From 1870-1915, as nearly as can be determined by her manuscript lists,
Mrs. Miller published about seven hundred and eighty articles, one
booklet on birds and twenty-four books—eleven of them on birds, her
books being published mainly by the Houghton Mifflin Company and E. P.
Dutton. When we stop to consider that her real work did not begin until
she was fifty-four, after which four hundred and five of her articles
and nineteen of her books were written, and moreover that during her
later years, by remarkable self-conquest, she became a lecturer and
devoted much of her time to lecturing on birds in New York, Brooklyn,
Philadelphia, and other towns, we come to a realization of her tireless
industry and her astonishing accomplishment.
When living in Brooklyn she was a member of some of the leading
women’s clubs of New York and Brooklyn, giving her time to them with
the earnest purpose that underlay all her work. In the midst of her
busy life, it is good to recall as an example of her devotion to her
friends, that for years Mrs. Miller gave up one day a week to visiting
an old friend who had been crippled by an accident; and after she
had gone to California took time to make for her a calendar of three
hundred and sixty-five personally selected quotations from the best in
literature.
Among Mrs. Miller’s pleasures during her later years in the East
were the meetings of the Linnæan Society held in the American Museum
of Natural History in New York, and the A. O. U. meetings which she
attended in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, enjoying
not only the papers of other workers, but the rare opportunity to meet
those interested in her beloved work. In a letter written after one of
the meetings she exclaimed—“You don’t know what a good time we have
always. We had a real ‘love feast’ this time. Not only all the old
standbys—Mr. Brewster, Mr. Sage, Dr. Allen, Dr. Merriam and the rest,
but a lot of Audubonites and John Burroughs. I went over and stayed
with Mrs. May Riley Smith and attended every session.” In this same
letter she speaks of her promotion to the new class of membership and
says, “It is a great pleasure to have _honest work_ recognized, and
encourages one to keep at it.”
When Mr. Brewster, in view of a discovery made by Mrs. Miller, wrote in
‘The Auk,’ regretting that one “gifted with rare powers of observation”
should not record at least the more important of her discoveries in
a scientific journal, Mrs. Miller replied in another note to ‘The
Auk,’ confessing that she would not know what was a discovery; adding
with the enthusiasm that vitalized her work—“to me everything is a
discovery; each bird, on first sight, is a new creation; his manners
and habits are a revelation, as fresh and as interesting to me as
though they had never been observed before.” Explaining her choice of
a literary rather than a scientific channel of expression, she gives
the key to her nature work, one of the underlying principles of all her
work—“my great desire is to bring into the lives of others the delights
to be found in the study of Nature.”
Looking over the bookshelf where the names of Burroughs, Torrey,
Miller, and Bolles call up each its own rare associations, I am
reminded of a bit of advice that came long years ago from Mr.
Burroughs’ kindly pen—“Put your bird in its landscape”—as this seems
the secret of the richness and charm of this rare company of writers,
for while beguiling us with the story of the bird, they have set it in
its landscape, they have brought home to us “the river and sky,” they
have enabled us to see Nature in its entirety.
Remembering this great boon which we owe Mrs. Miller, it seems rarely
fitting that when her three score years and ten were accomplished, her
last days should have been spent in the sunshine surrounded by the
birds and flowers which brought her happiness in beautiful California.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] ‘Upon the Tree-Tops’, 3, 1897.
AN EXPERIENCE WITH HORNED GREBES (_COLYMBUS AURITUS_).
BY ALEXANDER D. DUBOIS.
_Plates VIII-X_
The southeastern portion of Teton County, Montana, lying in the
prairie region east of the Rocky Mountains, comprises flat and rolling
bench-lands, traversed at frequent intervals by coulees which are
tributary to the Teton and Sun Rivers. On these benches are occasional
shallow depressions which have no natural drainage. They form transient
“prairie sloughs” which may be dry at one season and wet meadows or
ponds of water at another.
The slough which afforded the present observations is a crescent-shaped
depression, not more than ten or twelve acres in extent, curving about
a knoll upon which stands a homesteader’s cabin. There are no lakes
or water courses in the immediate vicinity. During the last few years
the region has been rapidly transformed into grain farms. At the time
these notes were made the meadow in question was bordered on three
sides by plowed fields. The spring of 1917 was an extremely rainy one,
following a winter of much more than normal snowfall. In consequence,
the crescent-shaped meadow became a marshy sheet of water.
On the open water of this pond two Grebes were seen on several days
in May. On the third of June, while walking around the pond scanning
its surface with a field-glass, I was suddenly amazed to see a Grebe
sitting upon a nest which protruded above the water amid the scant
vegetation. Careful examination showed the bird to be _Colymbus
auritus_. She slipped from the nest, as I slowly waded toward her, and
swam about in the open water, anxiously watching my every movement. The
interest was mutual. After watching the bird for some time I went up to
the nest and found that it contained two eggs. Subsequent visits showed
that the eggs were deposited at intervals of two days; the dates of the
visits and number of eggs found at each visit being as follows: June 3
(2); June 5 (3); June 7 (4); June 9 (5); June 12 (6); June 13 (6).
[Illustration: PLATE VIII. 1.
NESTING SITE OF HORNED GREBE IN A FLOODED MEADOW. NEST BEYOND OPEN
WATER. WHEAT STUBBLE IN FOREGROUND.]
[Illustration: 2.
HORNED GREBE ON HER NEST, SHOWING SCANT SURROUNDING VEGETATION.]
Whenever I appeared at the edge of the slough, it was the custom of
the two Grebes to float about upon the area of open water with an air
of supreme unconcern. They busied themselves constantly with their
toilets, preening the feathers of all parts of their bodies and very
frequently tipping or rolling themselves in the water to reach their
under parts with their bills. In this half-capsized posture they would
float for several seconds, exposing to view the strikingly prominent
white area that is normally below the water-line. This preening and
floating in different positions, on the part of both birds, proceeded
without interruption during my entire stay, each day that I visited
them. It became very evident that it was practiced as a ruse to hold
the attention of the intruder and thus divert him from their nest.
On the morning of June 12, a camera was taken to the nest-site with the
purpose of making photographs of the nest and eggs. On the land to the
south, a homesteader with eight horses to his plow, was turning over
the virgin sod. His furrows ended at the edge of the slough southwest
from the nesting site of the Grebes. Upon wading to the nest I found
the six eggs shielded on the southwest side, by a partial covering of
vegetation which had been pulled up on that side only. The general
character of the country and location of the nest are shown in the
photograph on Plate VIII. After making a photograph, and remaining for
a time near the nest to observe the parent birds, I left the tripod and
camera in position and went away. The female was continually gaining
either confidence or bravery and had been swimming about in an agitated
manner, not far from me, as I stood quietly by the camera. Before I
had gotten out of sight of the nest I saw her go to it and change the
covering or shielding material to its opposite edge, thus sheltering
the eggs from the too inquisitive gaze of the camera’s eye. When I
returned from the cabin the bird was on the nest, incubating. She took
to the water as I came up, but continued to swim back and forth among
the scant, neighboring tufts of marsh grass. As I stood very quietly
for some time behind the camera her boldness gradually increased, until
at length I was able to photograph her near the nest, with the aid of
only ten feet of rubber tubing attached to the shutter release. The
making of these photographs consumed much time and continually the
Grebe was growing bolder. She swam almost under the camera, and when I
came close to the nest she made a dash at me, shooting entirely out of
the water. This show of force was afterward repeated frequently, and
it sometimes ended with a violent, splashing dive which sent a shower
of spray over the camera outfit and the photographer. Meanwhile her
spouse drifted quietly at a safe and respectful distance. Although one
photograph of the bird on her nest was secured by means of a very long
thread, the result was rather unsatisfactory.
On the following day, June 13, I donned the hip boots again and
stationed myself with the camera outfit, determined to see if patience
would be rewarded by an opportunity to photograph the bird on her nest
at close range. It was a wearisome experiment, but not without result,
for eventually the Grebes became remarkably bold. The female was the
first to approach. She swam around the nest repeatedly, but for a long
time refused to venture upon it. For the most part the male witnessed
her adventures from a discreet distance. Occasionally however, he came
up; and finally, while the female was showing her agitation by swimming
hurriedly about, the male swam deliberately to the nest, climbed up
its side, and sat on the eggs, facing me. A plate was exposed on
this unexpected sitter but unfortunately was ruined by an accident
before development. He became alarmed by my activities in changing
plate-holders, or perhaps by the removal of my head from beneath the
focusing cloth, and suddenly slipped off the nest into the water. Both
birds were subsequently photographed together, near the nest.
I cautiously moved the camera somewhat closer and waited. The female
frequently shot out of the water at me with a rush accompanied by a
harsh cry, and sometimes ended her attack with a dive and a great
splash. Eventually she went upon the nest, and once in contact with her
eggs, she became invincible. I photographed her thus; then moved the
tripod toward her, slowly and cautiously, keeping my head beneath the
cloth. In this way the camera was placed within arm’s length of the
bird and another exposure made, which resulted in the intimate portrait
of Plate X, fig. 1. I uncovered my head, but she remained firm, and
when I extended my hand toward her she reached out her long neck and
delivered a vicious, stinging stab with her sharp bill. The threatening
attitude of the bird, just previous to striking, is shown in Plate X,
fig. 2.
The exposed situation of this nest is shown in several of the
photographs. It consisted of a mass of coarse grasses, many of them
fresh and green, floating in about a foot of water, the body of the
nest below the water line being of such bulk as to almost touch the
muddy bottom. The nest-lining, in the bottom of the well hollowed
cavity, was very wet and soggy, being only slightly above the water
surface when the nest was unoccupied, and probably below it when the
weight of the bird was added to that of the nest. This lining was
composed of decaying vegetation which was decidedly warm to the touch,
in the sunshine, while the wet rim of the nest was cold.
The eggs of this set were taken. They were of course in various stages
of incubation, from fresh in the last, to well begun in the first-laid
egg. For some time after I had left the empty nest, taking the camera
with me, the two Grebes swam to and fro beside it, or circled around
it, frequently going to the nest and climbing part way up. Occasionally
one of the birds, presumably the female, sat upon the nest for a brief
period, shifting herself in a restless manner, and then returned to the
water.
For several days I stayed away. Would these birds nest again in this
small and rapidly diminishing slough at so late a season? Would they
leave the slough and go elsewhere to nest? Or would they abandon the
duty of reproduction altogether? These questions seemed of sufficient
interest to demand further observations, but not wishing to further
inject the factor of the human menace into their already complicated
affairs, I left the birds entirely to themselves. Meanwhile extremely
dry warm weather was causing rapid evaporation and the slough was
shrinking very perceptibly.
My next visit, on the eighteenth of June, disclosed the fact that the
Grebes were not only present but were building a new nest not far from
the old one. The nest seemed nearly completed. The two birds were
floating near each other on the open water, preening their plumage in
the ostentatious manner previously described.
At seven-thirty on the morning of June 21, the new nest contained
two eggs, partially covered, especially on the northwest side, which
was the direction from which I approached the slough. There was a
striking difference in the coloring of the two eggs, in view of the
slight difference in their ages. One egg was a drab-tinted cream; the
other a beautiful greenish tint with a freshness and delicacy which
is difficult to describe, and which marked it as having just been
deposited by the bird. A schedule of the subsequent visits to this nest
is given in the accompanying table:
─────┬────────┬──────────┬────┬──────────────────┬───────────────────
Visit│ Date │ Time of │# of│ Were eggs │ Was either
No. │ │ day │eggs│ covered? │ bird seen?
─────┼────────┼──────────┼────┼──────────────────┼───────────────────
1 │June, 18│ │ 0 │ │Both on open water
2 │ " 21│ 7:30 A.M.│ 2 │Partially covered │
3 │ " 22│ 8:00 A.M.│ 2 │Sparsely covered │
4 │ " 23│ 7:30 A.M.│ 3 │ │Not seen
5 │ " 24│ 9:00 A.M.│ 4 │Covered │Bird seen on nest
6 │ " 25│ 7:30 A.M.│ 4 │Lightly covered │Not seen
7 │ " 25│ Sunset │ 4 │Covered on E. side│Not seen
8 │ " 26│ 7:30 A.M.│ 5 │Covered │One on open water
9 │ " 27│ 7:00 A.M.│ 5 │Not covered │Saw bird leave nest
10 │ " 28│ 7:30 A.M.│ 5 │Chiefly on E. side│Not seen
11 │ " 29│ Evening │ 5 │Covered │Not seen
12 │July, 4│ │ 5 │Covered on top │Not seen
13 │ " 8│ │ 5 │Covered │Yes; in water─lane
14 │ " 9│ │ 5 │Covered │Not seen
15 │ " 10│ 8:00 P.M.│ 5 │Not covered │One bird seen
16 │ " 11│ 6:00 P.M.│ 5 │Not covered │Not seen
17 │ " 12│ 5:00 P.M.│ 5 │Partially covered │One on open water
18 │ " 13│ 6:00 P.M.│ 4 │Not covered │Not seen
19 │ " 14│ │ 4 │Lightly covered │Not seen
20 │ " 15│ Evening │ 3 │ │Bird on nest
21 │ " 16│10:00 A.M.│ 3 │Not covered │Not seen
22 │ " 17│10:00 A.M.│ 3 │Not covered │One seen with young
23 │ " 18│ 7:30 P.M.│ 2 │Not covered │Not seen
24 │ " 20│ 6:00 A.M.│ 2 │Not covered │Not seen
25 │ " 22│ 7:30 P.M.│ 2 │Not covered │Not seen
26 │ " 23│ 9:00 A.M.│ 2 │Not covered │Not seen
27 │ " 24│ Evening │ 2 │Not covered │Not seen
─────┴────────┴──────────┴────┴──────────────────┴───────────────────
[Illustration: PLATE IX. 1.
A PAIR OF HORNED GREBES AT HOME. FEMALE AT RIGHT.]
[Illustration: 2. NEST AND EGGS OF HORNED GREBE.]
When I approached on the morning of June 24, the Grebe was on her nest.
She made herself as inconspicuous as possible by holding her head down,
close to the nest rim. As I came within twenty-five or thirty yards
of the nest the bird hastily pulled a covering of green-stuff over
the eggs and slid silently into the water, disappearing completely.
Although I watched for some time I did not succeed in catching even a
glimpse of either of the birds.
On the occasion of the sixth visit (June 26) I found the nest lightly
covered with fresh green stems and blades which had been plucked by the
bird. At that time I made the notation in my field book: “Never see the
birds on the open water any more.” However, on the next day, some time
after I had left the nest, I did see one of the Grebes floating on the
open water. The eggs had again been covered with fresh vegetation.
On the morning of June 27, I approached by a circuitous route, passing
by the nest with my interest ostensibly concentrated elsewhere. But as
I passed too near her the bird slipped quickly off the nest without
stopping to cover the eggs; and I could not find her afterward. It will
be noted from the tabulated schedule that neither of the birds was seen
at the tenth, eleventh, or twelfth visits. The thirteenth visit was
more successful for I saw a Grebe sitting perfectly motionless, at the
edge of a water-lane which traversed some of the thickest vegetation,
its bright red eyes appearing as its only conspicuous feature. The next
day (fourteenth visit), I could not find the birds, and the fifteenth
visit gave me only a fleeting glimpse of a Grebe. The eggs were not
covered but were slightly shielded on the side from which I had come.
On the evening of July 12, one of the birds was observed floating,
silent and solemn, with head toward me, at the farthest side of the
open water. It was evident at this time that the birds had changed
their dress since my acquaintance with them at their first nest, for no
yellow “horns” were now visible.
On July 13, finding only four eggs in the nest, and pieces of egg shell
both there and in the water, I searched carefully in the vicinity of
the nest but without result. I could neither find the newly hatched
young nor catch any glimpse of either parent. On the next day the
conditions were the same except that the eggs were slightly covered and
a few small feathers had been left on the nest, showing that the bird
had been upon it.
The twentieth visit, on the evening of July 15, gave me an opportunity
to examine the bird at close range. She was on the nest and allowed me
to approach, cautiously, to a point twenty or thirty feet from her.
She was considerably changed in appearance. The yellowish-white tip
of the bill remained unaltered and the light line through the lower
margin of the lore was observed to still persist, but the plumage of
the head was much subdued, the yellow plumes having been exchanged for
mere inconspicuous grayish streaks on the sides of the head. As I came
up I could see a young bird poking its head through her wing. She soon
left the nest, with a startling rush, and swam rapidly away, leaving
three eggs in the nest and two tiny youngsters in the water. The newly
hatched downy young can both swim and dive in a feeble way. As I
approached them they tried to escape by diving. When I held them in my
hands they gave utterance to a little cry not greatly different from
that of domestic chicks.
The downy young are very striking in appearance. They are striped
longitudinally with black and white stripes; the white however is
rather a “soiled” or grayish white. There are two narrow white stripes
on the head which converge to a point at the base of the bill. Between
these stripes, on the forehead, is a small slightly raised bare spot,
of a bright red color, back of which is a white elongated blotch, or
median stripe. The bill is pink and has on both mandibles a white tip
which resembles white porcelain. This is larger on the upper mandible
than on the lower. On the upper mandible between the nostrils there
is a black spot. The iris is brown, not red like that of the adults.
The lobate feet are remarkably well developed, but the wings are
rudimentary.
On the following day, July 16, I failed to find either the parent or
the young at the nest. The three remaining eggs were not covered.
Again on the morning of the seventeenth, the nest held only the three
uncovered eggs; but when I skirted the east end of the slough to
examine a Sora’s nest, I was startled by the parent Grebe taking wing
not far from me. She flew over the farthest part of the slough, but
soon returned, after circling a time or two, to the small area of open
water, where she alighted with a splashing glide. When on the wing
this bird shows very prominent white markings. The white secondaries
cause the posterior portion of the wing to show as a prominent white
area, and of course the entire under surface of the body, being white,
is very conspicuous when the bird wheels. The flight is so duck-like
that the flying Grebe might readily be mistaken, at a distance, for a
duck.
I waded to the spot whence this bird had taken flight and presently saw
the water agitated by some small creature beneath the surface. It was
one of the diminutive downy Grebes, floating submerged, head downward,
with its forward parts thrust into a mass of filamentous vegetation
(algae), while its legs, stretched to their full extent posteriorly,
were pointed vertically upward toward the surface of the water. I
easily took it up in my hand.
The next day, July 18, at 7:30 P. M., another egg had hatched. The nest
was not covered. It contained two eggs and nearly all of the opened
shell of the other, which last circumstance was of course unusual. I
heard the young bird, and by following the faint sound of its voice
found it, in the water, about six or eight feet from the nest. It was
small enough to have just emerged from the shell. Its bill was very
pink and the naked red spot, or comb, on its forehead very bright,
though only slightly raised above the surrounding skin. By the merest
chance I discovered a downy young duck within a few feet of the Grebe’s
nest. It was not identified. Perhaps it had been attracted by the cry
of the little Grebe. The adult Grebes were not seen, either on this
visit or on July 20, when I looked for them early in the morning. On
the latter date the two eggs and the nest were cold and the orphan
above mentioned was dead, on the slope of the nest just above the
surface of the water. There was an opening in the top of its skull
through which its brain had been removed by some small creature. This
nestling had probably never seen its parents but had taken to the water
wholly by instinct.
On the evening of July 22, the two eggs were cold and had not been
disturbed since my previous visit, at which time their positions had
been carefully noted. However one of them was “pipped” and I could
distinctly hear the voice of the bird within the shell. A search for
the parent Grebes was without avail. A faint voice, at the other side
of the water, was detected and was followed several times, but when its
author was finally located it proved to be not a Grebe but a recently
hatched Sora Rail.
The next morning, although the sun shone upon the nest, the eggs were
cold and the fetuses in both of them were dead. No birds were seen. My
last visit, on the evening of July 24, yielded no further result. But
I noted now, that there was no water around the nest. It was stranded
upon a mud-bar. This was undoubtedly the cause of forced abandonment of
the nest. The Grebes were unable to reach it by a water route, and no
other mode of travel was possible to them. A search around the water
area, now very small and shallow, gave no further evidence. The Grebes
were never seen again.
In reviewing the account of these observations certain groups of data
suggest themselves for summarization:
It is interesting to note that only six days elapsed between the
removal of the first set of eggs and the deposition of the first egg in
a new nest.
The period of incubation is twenty-four or twenty-five days, as shown
in the following table of dates, noted at the second nest:
─────┬───────────────┬───────────────────┬────────────
│ │ │ Incubation
Egg │ Date Laid │ Date Hatched │ Period in
No. │ │ │ days
─────┼───────────────┼───────────────────┼────────────
1 │ June 19 (?) │ July 13 │ 24
2 │ June 21 │ July 15 │ 24
3 │ June 22 or 23 │ July 17 or 18 │ 25
4 │ June 24 │ July 22, (Pipped) │ Fetus died
5 │ June 26 │ Fetus died │
─────┴───────────────┴───────────────────┴────────────
It will be observed that the fourth egg was alive and on the point of
hatching, twenty-eight days after it was deposited, but this cannot be
considered normal, since the egg had been deprived of the parent heat
for several days. It seems remarkable that the fetus survived the cool
nights.
[Illustration: PLATE X. 1.
HORNED GREBE WITHIN ARM’S LENGTH OF THE CAMERA.]
[Illustration: 2. FEMALE, HISSING AND READY TO STRIKE IN DEFENSE OF
NEST.]
The change of color which these eggs undergo, is also worthy of
note. I do not refer to the nest-stains caused by contact with the
fermenting vegetation of the nest lining, but to a uniform color change
of the surface layer of the shell, which is brought about presumably
by exposure to light and atmosphere. Referring to the eggs of the
second nest by numbers it will be noted that egg number two, when
first observed at 7:30 A. M., had apparently just been deposited. As
previously stated, its color was a very delicate bluish-green. Egg
number one had already attained its final color; a sort of drab-tinted
buff, which rendered it less conspicuous in the nest. Twenty-four hours
later, egg number two had changed to the same color as egg number one.
No data were recorded for egg number three in this respect. Egg number
four, after thirty-six hours, was “nearly but not quite the same color
as the others.” After it had been in the nest forty-eight hours it
was noted as, “same color as other eggs.” But egg number five could
scarcely be recorded as fully changed after eighty-four hours had
elapsed. These notes would seem to indicate that the first-laid eggs
change color more rapidly than the later ones. It may be noted in this
connection that the first eggs are slightly richer in the light green
pigment; possibly, also, they receive less shelter from the parent bird
than the later eggs.
The usual vocal performance of these Grebes, so far as I was able
to determine, is a sort of “ko-wee, ko-wee,” repeated at regular
intervals. It might be compared to the squeak of a dry wheelbarrow
producing one double squeak at each revolution of the wheel. It is
however of a clearer quality than this comparison might indicate. Each
“ko-wee” has rising inflection and its two syllables are run closely
together, with the accent on the last syllable.
The remarkable change of manner which came over these birds as the
moult began will be appreciated by reference to the tabulated schedule
of visits. The pugnacious bravery of the female at her first nest is
amply attested by the photographs, while the records of the second nest
show that the birds rarely permitted themselves to be observed, even at
a distance, although they had eggs as before.
These Horned Grebes were absolutely isolated so far as concerns other
individuals of the species.[2] There were certainly no other Grebes
in the slough. Their nesting associates were as follows: Red-winged
Blackbird (_Agelaius phœniceus fortis_), about three pairs nesting;
Sora Rail (_Porzana carolina_), three or four pairs nesting; Wilson’s
Phalarope (_Steganopus tricolor_), several pairs; Killdeer (_Oxyechus
vociferus_), one pair in evidence; Savannah Sparrows (_Passerculus
sandwichensis alaudinus_) were present at the slough all summer; and
a pair of Pintails (_Dafila acuta_) were believed to have a nest in
an adjoining field. The adjoining prairie was monopolized, as usual,
by the Horned Larks (_Otocoris alpestris leucolæma_) and Longspurs
(_Calcarius ornatus_ and _Rhynchophanes mccowni_).
At the present writing this slough is dry; the road which passes
through it is traveled every day by automobiles; and the spot where
the Grebes established their home a year ago has now been plowed and
planted.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Mr. A. A. Saunders advises me that so far as he is aware this is
the only record of nesting of the Horned Grebe in Montana, although
he has found two previous records of occurrence of the species in the
state.
HISTORICAL NOTES ON HARRIS’S SPARROW (_ZONOTRICHIA QUERULA_).
BY HARRY HARRIS.
During the early decades of the nineteenth century when those pioneer
ornithological enthusiasts, whose names and discoveries are familiar to
all students of the science, were pushing beyond the frontiers in quest
of new objects of study, the Kansas City region was the gateway to the
wilderness and the very outpost of civilization. In this immediate
neighborhood where the down-rushing Missouri is joined by the less
turbulent Kaw, and where the great river bends finally to the east,
were situated the frontier settlements of Independence, Fort Osage
(Fort Clark, of Lewis and Clark), Westport, and the great Konzas Indian
village, while a short distance up-stream were three other landmarks
frequently mentioned by travelers. Fort Leavenworth, the mouth of
Little Platte River, and the Black Snake Hills.
These names bring to mind several notable ornithologists and botanists
whose published journals and narratives are at once fruitful sources
of information to the working student and delightful reading to any
person. Of all the young scientists who passed this way in their
eagerness to explore the unknown beyond and gather its treasures to
science, perhaps none are of more interest, though others may be more
widely known, than John K. Townsend and Thomas Nuttall. Nuttall’s
discovery here of the bird now known as Harris’s Sparrow (_Zonotrichia
querula_), together with the fact that two other eminent ornithological
explorers, at later periods, each believed he had discovered the bird
in this same region, renders the tradition of peculiar and obvious
local interest.
A long entertained hope of being able to determine the actual locality
in Jackson County, Missouri, where Nuttall took the original specimen
of this Sparrow, has led the writer to bring together the widely
scattered data bearing on the early history of the bird. The facts
in question, which do not appear to have been previously assembled,
present several interesting features.