paddle-shaped, and the shell of one rather leathery than horny. Some
of these marine forms are carnivorous, living on fish, mollusks and
crustaceans, while others are strictly vegetarians, subsisting only
on roots and the various sea-weeds. The flesh of some is rich and
delicious, and a favorite and costly article of food, but of others
it is coarse and ill-flavored, and necessarily not edible. The eggs,
however, are always sweet, good and wholesome food. Valuable articles
of commerce, such as boxes, cases, knife-handles, jewelry and other
delicate ornaments, are made from the shell, for it is susceptible of a
very high polish, which brings out with surprising clearness its rich
brown and golden shades and markings.
Next to the sea-living turtles, come the fresh-water species, which eat
both animal and vegetable foods. They enjoy much better than aught else
a bed of soft mud, their heads lifted above the surface of the stagnant
water, their long necks moving snake-like as they gulp in mouthful
after mouthful of air. They are generally gregarious in habits, large
numbers often being found huddled together in the sun on logs or banks,
close to the water, into which they quickly slide upon the first
intimation of danger. Timid as they are, yet they will snap and bite
most furiously when taken in the hand.
Salt- and fresh-water terrapins are varieties of turtle, although some
scientists restrict the latter term to marine animals that do not
hibernate, and that cannot draw their head and feet inside the shell.
The tortoise never goes to sea they say, can draw himself within his
shell, although the Box Tortoise only can close the shell fast when
thus withdrawn, and finally, that the tortoise hibernates. Some of the
best and latest writers on the subject call all these animals turtles,
applying the name tortoise only to the familiar Box Tortoise of the
wood.
Awkward as turtles appear in their box-like covering, yet they can walk
rapidly on land, are climbers of some note, and all are able to swim.
The head, neck, and legs of a turtle are of a bronze, blackish green,
or deep-brown color, and the shells are beautifully marked, glossy,
ridged, or carved, and made up of closely-united, many-sided plates,
arranged upon a thickened, lighter-colored and apparently uniform
bony plate, which is capable of being separated into many independent
pieces. The shell, or epidermic covering, is not brittle and lime-like,
as the shells of all mollusks are, but is of the nature of horn. In
general the plastron is of a lighter color than the carapace, being
light-brown, yellow or cream, with yellowish lines dividing the plates,
and with bordering bands of red, yellow and purple. The upper plate
is usually of a very dark color, marked and lined with darker and
lighter tints, and often displaying a bevelled yellow edge. _Chrysemys
picta_, the Painted Turtle, receives his name from the beauty of his
many-colored shell, while the Spotted Turtle, _Nanemys guttatus_, which
is often called the Wood Turtle, is distinguished by the round yellow
spots that are regularly distributed over his dark-colored carapace.
But of all our turtles none is so well known or so interesting in his
ways as the Common Box Tortoise--_Cistudo clausa_. He affects dry
woods, and dislikes the water, and is a long-lived creature, some
individuals having been known to live more than a hundred years. Box
Tortoises in confinement have been found to eat meat, insects and bread
and milk from the hand, but if berries were put into their mouths they
wiped them out in a very funny manner with their front feet, which they
used after the fashion of a hand.
[Illustration: Copyright 1900 by A. R. DUGMORE.
BOX-TORTOISE FEEDING ON FUNGUS.]
When foraging in the woods, especially during the rainy season, at
which time manifold varieties of fungi prevail, they make their meals
largely upon these plants. We have seen a huge toadstool that had been
gnawed off so evenly, the central pillar only being left intact, that
appeared as though it had been cut away by a knife. This had been the
work of the Box Tortoise, for on looking around we soon descried,
moving leisurely over the leaf-strewn earth, the creature himself
making a fresh attack upon another species in a little opening in the
woods.
[Illustration: COMMON BOX TORTOISE.
Breakfasting on a Toadstool.]
Very amusing it was to watch him, as with praiseworthy deliberation
he ate round after round of the cap of the fungus. He would bite off
a mouthful of the toadstool, chew it carefully until he had extracted
the whole of the juice, then open his mouth and drop out the masticated
fibre, and take a fresh mouthful, not biting inward toward the stem,
but breaking off the morsel next beside that which he had just eaten.
He paced round and round the fungus as he took his bites, and as the
fungus decreased in regular circles, the chewed fragments increased. In
less than an hour he had eaten all the disk of the fungus to the stipe,
and then walked slowly away to seek for another. The discarded parts of
the fungus appeared quite dry when examined, nothing nutritious being
left in them. There must have been some very good reason for rejecting
the central part and the stem, which were left in every instance,
but what that reason was we could not imagine. If a decayed or wormy
portion of a toadstool was encountered in the feeding process, he did
not bite round it, but abandoned the plant altogether, and went off in
quest of a fresh specimen.
Coming, in his travels, to a steep gully or ravine which he desires to
cross, he does not attempt the undertaking without counting his chances
of success. He seemingly revolves the matter over and over for some
time in his mind, and, when at last he has reached a conclusion, draws
his head and feet under cover, and by some quick, sudden jerk flings
himself down to the bottom, trusting to good fortune and his own wits
to making his way over the further incline. Observation teaches that
his deliberations are generally attended with the accomplishment of the
result to be attained.
There is a very common turtle, quite abundant in the small lakes and
streams of our Western States, where he is trapped in great numbers for
the market, which country people dub the Snapping Turtle, or which,
from the resemblance which the head and neck, when stretched out, bear
to the same parts of the alligator, takes the name of Alligator Turtle,
or _Chelydra serpentina_, with the more learned naturalist. He has a
shell too small to close over him and hide him completely, but nature,
to make up for this deficiency of covering, has given him a bold and
hasty temper, which leads him to snap vigorously when disturbed.
Snapping Turtles live rather harmoniously together, even when confined
in the same pen, and only manifest their ugly dispositions towards each
other when excited by causes from without, with whose origin they have
nothing to do. Contests of a very vicious character are often thus
precipitated, which sooner or later end in the death of one or more of
the belligerent parties.
Down in the pine countries of our Southern States lives a large, stout
animal, with a shell fifteen inches in length, which is denominated the
Gopher, or _Testudo Carolina_. These animals dwell in troops, several
families digging their dens or burrows near together, the entrance
thereto being about four feet long and expanding into a spacious
apartment. In each burrow resides a single pair of Gophers. By day
the Gophers keep close house, but by night they wander out in search
of food, devouring yams, melons, corn and other garden produce. They
dislike wet weather, and always go in-doors when it rains. Gophers’
eggs, which are as large as pigeons’ eggs, and also their flesh, are
highly esteemed as articles of diet by the negroes.
In Europe, a near cousin of the Gopher is kept about the house for
a pet. If allowed, in the autumn, to find his way into a garden, he
digs a hole and hibernates, coming out in the spring. An English lady
had one of these animals which lived in the kitchen. He was fond of
creeping into the fireplace and getting under the grate, where he would
contentedly lie until the hot coal and ashes dropped upon his back and
burnt his shell. When winter came this little creature wanted to take
his long sleep, and dug so persistently into baskets, drawers, boxes
and closets, that finally a box of earth was given to him, into which
he worked his way until out of sight, and there he remained until
April sun and showers called him from his winter retreat. His fare was
potatoes, carrots, turnips and bread and milk, which he especially
liked.
SUMMER DUCK.
Perhaps no species of North American water-bird is more highly esteemed
by lovers of the beautiful in nature than _Aix sponsa_--the Summer
Duck, or Wood Duck--and, when obtainable, is one of the first to find
room in the collection of amateur naturalists. With the epicure,
however, he is of rather inferior standing, lacking as he does the
delicacy of flesh which makes the green-winged teal and others of his
tribe of such immense gastronomic value.
Though truly an American species, yet this bird is more generally found
throughout the United States than any other, nesting wherever suitable
localities present themselves. North of the Potomac River, and in the
various States situated above the parallel of latitude which cuts its
head-waters, at least so far as the country east of the Rocky Mountains
is concerned, it is chiefly a migrant, arriving towards the close of
March, or in the beginning of April. South of this line, from Maryland
to Florida, and thence south-westerly through the Gulf States into
Mexico, the birds are found in more or less abundance during the entire
year.
Pairing commences in the South Atlantic and Gulf States, we are told,
about the first of March, but in New England and the Middle States in
favorable seasons from the first to the fifteenth of April, whereas
in the country bordering on the Great Lakes and in the Western States
generally, it does not take place till the last of May or the beginning
of June.
Upon their arrival in our Northern States these birds, strange to say,
unlike many of their numerous family connections, seldom frequent the
sea-shore or the adjoining salt marshes, but manifest a predilection
for the ponds, mill-dams and deep muddy streams of the interior; and
the same is true in more southern latitudes, for they prefer to place
their nests along the creeks and bayous of the land where the orange
and palmetto charm the eye with perennial verdure.
Between the time of their appearance in March and the plighting of
their vows at the accustomed trysting-places, the sexes consort
together in flocks of four or more, but never in very large numbers,
and fatten on acorns, the seeds of the wild oats, and such insects as
they can procure from the tree-branches or the muddy borders of the
streams and ponds which they so delight to visit.
On each recurrence of the mating season there is reason to believe
that the same couple come together and pledge anew their fidelity
and affection, unless debarred by death, or some other of the many
vicissitudes to which life is prone. The troth-plight sealed, and a
union effected, the happy couple soon start off in quest of a spot
for a home. In the case of old birds the same locality, where no
interference has been experienced from beast or man, has been known
to be visited for four successive years. For obvious reasons, Wood
Ducks delight to live in close proximity to bodies of water, such
places affording conveniences to the young, when they are sufficiently
matured to betake themselves thither, for food and exercise. Situations
remote from water entail unnecessary labor upon the female, who is then
required, at considerable risk and peril, to carry them one by one to
the pond or stream in her bill. When the distance is not too great,
and the ground underneath the nesting-tree is amply covered with dry
leaves and grasses, the young scramble to the mouth of the nest, drop
themselves down, and under the maternal leadership wend their way to
the much-loved fluid. Often the tree or stub which contains their home
is found to overshadow the water. All that is necessary then is for the
tender little creatures, after reaching the entrance, to spread their
ill-feathered pinions and oar-like feet and fling themselves down, a
feat which can be performed without jeopardy to life or limb.
[Illustration: SUMMER DUCKS AND YOUNG.
Female Carrying Young in Her Bill from Nest in Hollow Tree.]
Almost any tree, or tree-branch, containing the essential hollow, and
suitably located, is utilized. Broken branches of high sycamores,
seldom more than forty or fifty feet from water, are, according to
Audubon, favorite places, while Wilson claims to have met the home
of a pair of these birds in a fork composed of branches, and built
out of a few rude sticks. In the South, the forsaken retreat of the
gray squirrel and the hole of the ivory-billed woodpecker are common
nesting-places. Often the entrance to the nest is apparently so small
when compared with the bulk of the occupant that it is a matter of
surprise to many that she can manage to make her way into it without
suffering bodily injuries. But she does, nevertheless, which is an
evidence that she either knows how to conform to circumstances, or
is a better judge of dimensions than many of the would-be-wise lords
of creation. All nests of our finding have been wide enough at their
mouths to admit of easy passage, and have been from four to six feet in
vertical direction. Soft decayed wood, and a few feathers, doubtless
plucked from the breast of the builder, were their only contents. Dry
plants, down, and feathers of the wild turkey, wild goose and the
common barnyard fowl, have been observed, in addition to the foregoing
articles, by other writers. The height of the entrance above the ground
varies from fifteen to thirty feet, but probably a less, or even a
greater elevation, may sometimes be attained.
Wilson speaks of a nest which he observed in an old grotesque white
oak, which stood on a slope of one of the banks of the Tuckahoe River,
in New Jersey, just twenty yards from the water’s edge, that had been
occupied for four consecutive years. At the time of his visit the nest
contained thirteen young birds, which the maternal head was engaged
in carrying down to the water to give them, perhaps, their first
experience in the art of swimming. So carefully, and yet so adroitly
and quickly, did she perform this seemingly difficult task, that she
was less than ten minutes in its accomplishment. Although the male
usually stands sentry while the processes of laying and sitting are
going on, and signals the approach of enemies by a peculiar cry which
has been likened to the crowing of a young cock--œ-ēēk! œ-ēēk!--yet
from the silence of one writer upon the subject we infer that the duty
of rearing the rather numerous family is left to the mother, while
he--her friend and consequential partner, as though disdaining such
ignoble and degrading work, because of its slavish character--is off
with his gay companions, disporting themselves in mid-air, or trimming,
while perched upon some sheltering bough, their rich and varied
plumage. So intent, however, was the mother-bird upon the faithful
discharge of her home-duties, that she heeded not the stately sloop,
then nearly completed, as it lay upon the stocks close-by, with its
hull looming up within twelve feet of her home, darkened with the
presence, and reverberating with the noise of workmen, but continued to
pass in and out as though utterly unconscious of the so near approach
of danger. Audubon claims that the male deserts the female when the
period of sitting commences, and joins his sterner brethren, who
unite into flocks of considerable numbers, and keep apart from their
partners until the young are fully matured, when young and old of
both sexes come together, and thus remain until the return of another
breeding-season.
The female, it is evident from what has just been said, assumes the
entire charge of incubation. For more than twenty-one days she is thus
busied, with nothing, it would seem, to relieve the monotony of her
task. How often she despairs and bewails the hardship of her lot, none
can know. It is the inexorable decree of fate that she should perform
the duties alone and unassisted, and most willingly she submits. But
the _ennui_ of the labor is, in a measure, forgotten in the vision
that hope holds out to her patience, for her persistent assiduity is
ultimately rewarded by a whole nest-full of happy ducklings. While the
hatching process is going on the patient housewife only leaves the
nest when pressed by the pangs of hunger, and but for a short time.
Before leaving, however, she takes the precaution to see that her
creamy-white, elliptical treasures, to the number of ten or thirteen
eggs, are carefully covered with down.
Like the young of our domesticated species, the little Wood Ducks
follow the mother almost as soon as they are hatched, and gather
whatever of vegetable and insect food they happen to encounter. They
are passionately fond of the water, and best show their real character
when gracefully floating upon its glassy bosom, or diving into its
azure depths. At an early age they respond to the parent’s call with
a soft and mellow _pee, pee, pee-e_, which is uttered quite rapidly,
and at repeated intervals. The call of the mother, when addressing the
young at such times, is rather low and soft, and resembles that of the
young, being only a little more prolonged.
These beautiful birds have often been domesticated. They become at such
times so unsuspicious and familiar as to allow themselves to be stroked
by the hand. No handsomer bird could be chosen for introduction into
our yards. The male, some nineteen inches in length, and with a scope
of wing of two and one-third feet, is a being of no mean proportions.
But it is the richness and variety of his colors that render him an
object of admiration. A conspicuous green and purple crest adorns
his head, while the sides, which are iridescent purple, are relieved
of their monotony by a streak of white from base of bill to occiput,
and by another, back of the eye, of a pure white color, which is
continuous with that of the throat. The sides and front of the lower
neck and the forepart of the breast are a bright chestnut, with five
white spots, while the lower parts are generally white. Beautifully
iridescent metallic hues set off the upper surfaces of the wings, which
show most effectively in the blaze of the noonday sun. To the female
nature has not been, it would seem to the casual observer, quite so
propitious. Her grayish head, with lengthened hind-feathers, white
throat, brownish-yellow fore-neck, upper breast and sides, striped
with grayish and generally dark-brown upper parts, glossed chiefly
with purple, contrast most markedly with the rich, gorgeous attire
of her other half. While less showy in dress and lacking the dignity
of demeanor that characterizes her lord, she is none the less fitted
to perform her part in the drama of life. Her dress, sober in color,
and with just enough of ornament to relieve the oppressiveness of its
sameness, is so accordant with her home-surroundings as to afford her
the protection and security she requires in the trying and perilous
duties of brood-raising.
AMERICAN WOODCOCK.
Quite as interesting in habits is the American Woodcock, the _Philohela
minor_ of Gray, which belongs to the grallatorial, rather than to the
natatorial, family of birds. In distribution he is somewhat restricted,
differing in this respect from his numerous congeneric brethren, which
have a wide dispersion. He is chiefly a denizen of the eastern parts of
the United States, and of the British territory immediately adjacent.
Fort Rice, in north-western Dakota, and Kansas and Nebraska in the
West, appear to be the limits of his range in these directions. In the
Middle and Eastern States Woodcocks are found in greater abundance than
anywhere else. While the bulk pass North to breed, a few remain in the
South and raise their happy little families in spite of the ardor of
the climate.
Few migrants arrive earlier at their breeding-grounds. They usually
appear from the fifth to the tenth of March in New England and the
Middle Atlantic States, although instances are recorded where they have
been observed as early as the twenty-fourth of February. These cases
are rare, however, and only happen, if at all, when the weather has
been remarkably auspicious for a lengthy spell. As a few birds have
been known to winter in the North, when the season has been unusually
mild, their emergence from sheltered localities so early might be
construed by persons not cognizant of their presence, or of their
occasional winter sojourn, as a case of recent arrival. In view of this
fact, it would be difficult to prove that a bird seen in winter had
just come from the South, unless discovered _in transitu_.
Small companies, from four to six in number, start together upon
the migratory tour. Low, swampy thickets invite their presence upon
reaching their destination. Here they conceal themselves during the
day, but when night has gathered dark they come out of their grassy
retreats and wander about in quest of food. From the setting of the
sun behind the western hills to the appearance of the first streaks
of dawn in the east, they pursue their nocturnal rambles. Few persons
have visited these birds in their accustomed haunts while foraging.
Let me take the reader to some neighboring swamp, or by the side of
some lonely woodland, which these birds delight to frequent. The utmost
silence must be maintained, or they will be frightened away. While it
will be difficult to see the creatures that have called us hither, yet
we know they are not far away by the rustle they produce among the
dry leaves, and by the peculiar notes they emit. _Chipper, chip-per,
chip_ may be heard from the right, and almost at the next instant it
is varied to _bleat_ or _bleat ta bleat ta_, produced in the contrary
direction, or off in the distance, showing that the authors of these
sounds have changed their positions. While these birds have a habitual
fondness for humid thickets, they not infrequently betake themselves to
corn-fields and other cultivated tracts in close proximity, and even to
elevated woods.