have thrown their boat overboard; they enter and seat themselves,
each with a rusty gun. One of them skulls the skiff towards an island
for a century past the breeding place of myriads of Guillemots, which
are now to be laid under contribution. At the approach of the vile
thieves, clouds of birds rise from the rock and fill the air around,
wheeling and screaming over their enemies. Yet thousands remain in
an erect posture, each covering its single egg, the hope of both
parents. The reports of several muskets loaded with heavy shot are
now heard, while several dead and wounded birds fall heavily on the
rock or into the water. Instantly all the sitting birds rise and fly
off affrighted to their companions above, and hover in dismay over
their assassins, who walk forward exultingly, and with their shouts
mingling oaths and execrations. Look at them! See how they crush the
chick within its shell, how they trample on every egg in their way
with their huge and clumsy boots. Onward they go, and when they leave
the isle, not an egg that they can find is left entire. The dead birds
they collect and carry to their boat. Now they have regained their
filthy shallop; they strip the birds by a single jerk of their feathery
apparel, while the flesh is yet warm, and throw them on some coals,
where in a short time they are broiled. The rum is produced when the
guillemots are fit for eating, and after stuffing themselves with
this oily fare, and enjoying the pleasure of beastly intoxication,
over they tumble on the deck of their crazed craft, where they pass
the short hours of night in turbid slumber.
The sun now rises above the snow-clad summit of the eastern mount.
“Sweet is the breath of morn” even in this desolate land. The gay
Bunting erects his white crest, and gives utterance to the joy he
feels in the presence of his brooding mate. The Willow Grous on the
rock crows his challenge aloud. Each floweret, chilled by the night
air, expands its pure petals; the gentle breeze shakes from the blades
of grass the heavy dewdrops. On the Guillemot Isle the birds have
again settled, and now renew their loves. Startled by the light of
day, one of the Eggers springs on his feet and rouses his companions,
who stare around them for a while, endeavouring to recollect their
senses. Mark them, as with clumsy fingers they clear their drowsy
eyes! Slowly they rise on their feet. See how the filthy lubbers
stretch out their arms and yawn; you shrink back, for verily “that
throat might frighten a shark.”
But the master, soon recollecting that so many eggs are worth a
dollar or a crown, casts his eye towards the rock, marks the day
in his memory, and gives orders to depart. The light breeze enables
them to reach another harbour a few miles distant, one which, like
the last, lies concealed from the ocean by some other rocky isle.
Arrived there, they re-act the scene of yesterday, crushing every
egg they can find. For a week each night is passed in drunkenness and
brawls, until, having reached the last breeding place on the coast,
they return, touch at every isle in succession, shoot as many birds
as they need, collect the fresh eggs, and lay in a cargo. At every
step each ruffian picks up an egg so beautiful that any man with a
feeling heart would pause to consider the motive which could induce
him to carry it off. But nothing of this sort occurs to the Egger, who
gathers and gathers, until he has swept the rock bare. The dollars
alone chink in his sordid mind, and he assiduously plies the trade
which no man would ply who had the talents and industry to procure
subsistence by honourable means.
With a bark nearly half filled with fresh eggs they proceed to
the principal rock, that on which they first landed. But what is
their surprise when they find others there helping themselves as
industriously as they can! In boiling rage they charge their guns, and
ply their oars. Landing on the rock, they run up to the Eggers, who,
like themselves, are desperadoes. The first question is a discharge
of musketry, the answer another. Now, man to man, they fight like
tigers. One is carried to his boat with a fractured skull, another
limps with a shot in his leg, and a third feels how many of his teeth
have been driven through the hole in his cheek. At last, however, the
quarrel is settled; the booty is to be equally divided; and now see
them all drinking together. Oaths and curses and filthy jokes are all
that you hear; but see, stuffed with food, and reeling with drink,
down they drop one by one; groans and execrations from the wounded
mingle with the snorings of the heavy sleepers. There let the brutes
lie.
Again it is dawn, but no one stirs. The sun is high; one by one they
open their heavy eyes, stretch their limbs, yawn, and raise themselves
from the deck. But see, here comes a goodly company. A hundred honest
fishermen, who for months past have fed on salt meat, have felt a
desire to procure some eggs. Gallantly their boats advance, impelled
by the regular pull of their long oars. Each buoyant bark displays
the flag of its nation. No weapons do they bring, nor any thing that
can be used as such save their oars and fists. Cleanly clad in Sunday
attire, they arrive at the desired spot, and at once prepare to ascend
the rock. The Eggers, now numbering a dozen, all armed with guns and
bludgeons, bid defiance to the fishermen. A few angry words pass
between the parties. One of the Eggers, still under the influence
of drink, pulls his trigger, and an unfortunate sailor is seen to
reel in agony. Three loud cheers fill the air. All at once rush on
the malefactors; a horrid fight ensues, the result of which is, that
every Egger is left on the rock beaten and bruised. Too frequently
the fishermen man their boats, row to the shallops, and break every
egg in the hold.
The Eggers of Labrador not only rob the birds in this cruel manner,
but also the fishermen, whenever they can find an opportunity; and
the quarrels they excite are numberless. While we were on the coast,
none of our party ever ventured on any of the islands which these
wretches call their own, without being well provided with means of
defence. On one occasion, when I was present, we found two Eggers
at their work of destruction. I spoke to them respecting my visit,
and offered them premiums for rare birds and some of their eggs; but
although they made fair promises, not one of the gang ever came near
the Ripley.
These people gather all the eider down they can find; yet so
inconsiderate are they, that they kill every bird that comes in their
way. The eggs of Gulls, Guillemots, and Ducks are searched for with
care; and the Puffins and some other birds they massacre in vast
numbers for the sake of their feathers. So constant and persevering
are their depredations, that these species, which, according to the
accounts of the few settlers I saw in the country, were exceedingly
abundant twenty years ago, have abandoned their ancient breeding
places, and removed much farther north in search of peaceful security.
Scarcely, in fact, could I procure a young Guillemot before the Eggers
had left the coast, nor was it until late in July that I succeeded,
after the birds had laid three or four eggs each, instead of one,
and when nature having been exhausted, and the season nearly spent,
thousands of these birds left the country without having accomplished
the purpose for which they had visited it. This war of extermination
cannot last many years more. The Eggers themselves will be the first
to repent the entire disappearance of the myriads of birds that made
the coast of Labrador their summer residence, and unless they follow
the persecuted tribes to the northward, they must renounce their trade.
Had not the British Government long since passed strict laws against
these ruthless and worthless vagabonds, and laid a heavy penalty on
all of them that might be caught in the act of landing their cargoes
in Newfoundland or Nova Scotia, I might—
THE GREAT BLUE HERON.
_ARDEA HERODIAS_, LINN.
PLATE CCXI. MALE.
The State of Louisiana has always been my favourite portion of
the Union, although Kentucky and some other States have divided my
affections; but as we are on the banks of the fair Ohio, let us pause
a while, good Reader, and watch the Heron. In my estimation, few of
our waders are more interesting than the birds of this family. Their
contours and movements are always graceful, if not elegant. Look
on the one that stands near the margin of the pure stream:—see his
reflection dipping as it were into the smooth water, the bottom of
which it might reach had it not to contend with the numerous boughs
of those magnificent trees. How calm, how silent, how grand is the
scene! The tread of the tall bird himself no one hears, so carefully
does he place his foot on the moist ground, cautiously suspending it
for a while at each step of his progress. Now his golden eye glances
over the surrounding objects, in surveying which he takes advantage
of the full stretch of his graceful neck. Satisfied that no danger
is near, he lays his head on his shoulders, allows the feathers of
his breast to droop, and patiently awaits the approach of his finned
prey. You might imagine what you see to be the statue of a bird,
so motionless is it. But now, he moves; he has taken a silent step,
and with great care he advances; slowly does he raise his head from
his shoulders, and now, what a sudden start! his formidable bill has
transfixed a perch, which he beats to death on the ground. See with
what difficulty he gulps it down his capacious throat! and now his
broad wings open, and away he slowly flies to another station, or
perhaps to avoid his unwelcome observers.
The “Blue Crane” (by which name this species is generally known in
the United States) is met with in every part of the Union. Although
more abundant in the low lands of our Atlantic coast, it is not
uncommon in the countries west of the Alleghany Mountains. I have
found it in every State in which I have travelled, as well as in
all our “Territories.” It is well known from Louisiana to Maine, but
seldom occurs farther east than Prince Edward’s Island in the Gulf
of St Lawrence, and not a Heron of any kind did I see or hear of
in Newfoundland or Labrador. Westward, I believe, it reaches to the
very bases of the Rocky Mountains. It is a hardy bird, and bears the
extremes of temperature surprisingly, being in its tribe what the
Passenger Pigeon is in the family of Doves. During the coldest part
of winter the Blue Heron is observed in the State of Massachusetts
and in Maine, spending its time in search of prey about the warm
springs and ponds which occur there in certain districts. They are
not rare in the Middle States, but more plentiful to the west and
south of Pennsylvania, which perhaps arises from the incessant war
waged against them.
Extremely suspicious and shy, this bird is ever on the look-out.
Its sight is as acute as that of any falcon, and it can hear at a
considerable distance, so that it is enabled to mark with precision
the different objects it sees, and to judge with accuracy of the
sounds which it hears. Unless under very favourable circumstances,
it is almost hopeless to attempt to approach it. You may now and
then surprise one feeding under the bank of a deep creek or bayou, or
obtain a shot as he passes unawares over you on wing; but to walk up
towards one would be a fruitless adventure. I have seen many so wary,
that, on seeing a man at any distance within half a mile, they would
take to wing; and the report of a gun forces one off his grounds from
a distance at which you would think he could not be alarmed. When in
close woods, however, and perched on a tree, they can be approached
with a good chance of success.
The Blue Heron feeds at all hours of the day, as well as in the
dark and dawn, and even under night, when the weather is clear, his
appetite alone determining his actions in this respect; but I am
certain that when disturbed during dark nights it feels bewildered,
and alights as soon as possible. When passing from one part of the
country to another at a distance, the case is different, and on such
occasions they fly under night at a considerable height above the
trees, continuing their movements in a regular manner.
The commencement of the breeding season varies, according to the
latitude, from the beginning of March to the middle of June. In the
Floridas it takes place about the first of these periods, in the
Middle Districts about the 15th of May, and in Maine a month later.
It is at the approach of this period only that these birds associate
in pairs, they being generally quite solitary at all other times;
nay, excepting during the breeding season, each individual seems to
secure for itself a certain district as a feeding ground, giving chase
to every intruder of its own species. At such times they also repose
singly, for the most part roosting on trees, although sometimes taking
their station on the ground, in the midst of a wide marsh, so that
they may be secure from the approach of man. This unsocial temper
probably arises from the desire of securing a certain abundance of
food, of which each individual in fact requires a large quantity.
The manners of this Heron are exceedingly interesting at the approach
of the breeding season, when the males begin to look for partners.
About sunrise you see a number arrive and alight either on the
margin of a broad sand-bar or on a savannah. They come from different
quarters, one after another, for several hours; and when you see forty
or fifty before you, it is difficult for you to imagine that half the
number could have resided in the same district. Yet in the Floridas I
have seen hundreds thus collected in the course of a morning. They are
now in their full beauty, and no young birds seem to be among them.
The males walk about with an air of great dignity, bidding defiance
to their rivals, and the females croak to invite the males to pay
their addresses to them. The females utter their coaxing notes all at
once, and as each male evinces an equal desire to please the object of
his affection, he has to encounter the enmity of many an adversary,
who, with little attention to politeness, opens his powerful bill,
throws out his wings, and rushes with fury on his foe. Each attack is
carefully guarded against, blows are exchanged for blows; one would
think that a single well-aimed thrust might suffice to inflict death,
but the strokes are parried with as much art as an expert swordsman
would employ; and, although I have watched these birds for half an
hour at a time as they fought on the ground, I never saw one killed
on such an occasion; but I have often seen one felled and trampled
upon, even after incubation had commenced. These combats over, the
males and females leave the place in pairs. They are now mated for
the season, at least I am inclined to think so, as I never saw them
assemble twice on the same ground, and they become comparatively
peaceable after pairing.
It is by no means a constant practice with this species to breed in
communities, whether large or small; for although I have seen many
such associations, I have also found many pairs breeding apart. Nor
do they at all times make choice of the trees placed in the interior
of a swamp, for I have found heronries in the pine-barrens of the
Floridas, more than ten miles from any marsh, pond, or river. I have
also observed nests on the tops of the tallest trees, while others
were only a few feet above the ground: some also I have seen on the
ground itself, and many on cactuses. In the Carolinas, where Herons
of all sorts are extremely abundant, perhaps as much so as in the
lower parts of Louisiana or the Floridas, on account of the numerous
reservoirs connected with the rice plantations, and the still more
numerous ditches which intersect the rice-fields, all of which contain
fish of various sorts, these birds find it easy to procure food in
great abundance. There the Blue Herons breed in considerable numbers,
and if the place they have chosen be over a swamp, few situations
can be conceived more likely to ensure their safety, for one seldom
ventures into those dismal retreats at the time when these birds
breed, the effluvia being extremely injurious to health, besides the
difficulties to be overcome in making one’s way to them.
Imagine, if you can, an area of some hundred acres, overgrown with
huge cypress trees, the trunks of which, rising to a height of perhaps
fifty feet before they send off a branch, spring from the midst of
the dark muddy waters. Their broad tops, placed close together with
interlaced branches, seem intent on separating the heavens from the
earth. Beneath their dark canopy scarcely a single sunbeam ever makes
its way; the mire is covered with fallen logs, on which grow matted
grasses and lichens, and the deeper parts with nympheæ and other
aquatic plants. The Congo snake and water-moccasin glide before you
as they seek to elude your sight, hundreds of turtles drop, as if
shot, from the floating trunks of the fallen trees, from which also
the sullen alligator plunges into the dismal pool. The air is pregnant
with pestilence, but alive with musquitoes and other insects. The
croaking of the frogs, joined with the hoarse cries of the Anhingas
and the screams of the Herons, forms fit music for such a scene.
Standing knee-deep in the mire, you discharge your gun at one of the
numerous birds that are breeding high over head, when immediately
such a deafening noise arises, that, if you have a companion with
you, it were quite useless to speak to him. The frightened birds
cross each other confusedly in their flight; the young attempting to
secure themselves, some of them lose their hold, and fall into the
water with a splash; a shower of leaflets whirls downwards from the
tree-tops, and you are glad to make your retreat from such a place.
Should you wish to shoot Herons, you may stand, fire, and pick up
your game as long as you please; you may obtain several species, too,
for not only does the Great Blue Heron breed there, but the White,
and sometimes the Night Heron, as well as the Anhinga, and to such
places they return year after year, unless they have been cruelly
disturbed.
The nest of the Blue Heron, in whatever situation it may be placed,
is large and flat, externally composed of dry sticks, and matted with
weeds and mosses to a considerable thickness. When the trees are
large and convenient, you may see several nests on the same tree.
The full complement of eggs which these birds lay is three, and in
no instance have I found more. Indeed, this is constantly the case
with all the large species with which I am acquainted, from _Ardea
cœrulea_to _Ardea occidentalis_; but the smaller species lay more as
they diminish in size, the Louisiana Heron having frequently four, and
the Green Heron five, and even sometimes six. Those of the Great Blue
Heron are very small compared with the size of the bird, measuring
only two and a half inches by one and seven-twelfths; they are of a
dull bluish-white, without spots, rather rough, and of a regular oval
form.
The male and the female sit alternately, receiving food from each
other, their mutual affection being as great as it is towards their
young, which they provide for so abundantly, that it is not uncommon
to find the nest containing a quantity of fish and other food, some
fresh, and some in various stages of putrefaction. As the young advance
they are less frequently fed, although still as copiously supplied
whenever opportunity offers; but now and then I have observed them,
when the nests were low, standing on their haunches, with their legs
spread widely before them, and calling for food in vain. The quantity
which they require is now so great that all the exertions of the old
birds appear at times to be insufficient to satisfy their voracious
appetite; and they do not provide for themselves until fully able to
fly, when their parents chase them off, and force them to shift as
they can. They are generally in good condition when they leave the
nest; but from want of experience they find it difficult to procure
as much food as they have been accustomed to, and soon become poor.
Young birds from the nest afford tolerable eating; but the flesh of
the old birds is by no means to my taste, nor so good as some epicures
would have us to believe, and I would at any time prefer that of a
Crow or young Eagle.
The principal food of the Great Blue Heron is fish of all kinds; but
it also devours frogs, lizards, snakes, and birds, as well as small
quadrupeds, such as shrews, meadow-mice, and young rats, all of which I
have found in its stomach. Aquatic insects are equally welcome to it,
and it is an expert flycatcher, striking at moths, butterflies, and
libellulæ, whether on the wing or when alighted. It destroys a great
number of young Marsh-Hens, Rails, and other birds; but I never saw
one catch a fiddler or a crab; and the only seeds that I have found
in its stomach were those of the great water-lily of the Southern
States. It always strikes its prey through the body, and as near the
head as possible. When the animal is strong and active, it kills it
by beating it against the ground or a rock, after which it swallows
it entire. While on the St John’s River in East Florida, I shot one
of these birds, and on opening it on board, found in its stomach a
fine perch quite fresh, but of which the head had been cut off. The
fish, when cooked, I found excellent, as did Lieutenant PIERCY and
my assistant Mr WARD, but Mr LEEHMAN would not so much as taste it.
When on a visit to my friend JOHN BULOW, I was informed by him, that
although he had several times imported gold fishes from New York,
with the view of breeding them in a pond, through which ran a fine
streamlet, and which was surrounded by a wall, they all disappeared
in a few days after they were let loose. Suspecting the Heron to be
the depredator, I desired him to watch the place carefully with a gun;
which was done, and the result was, that he shot a superb specimen
of the present species, in which was found the last gold fish that
remained.
In the wild state it never, I believe, eats dead fish of any sort,
or indeed any other food than that killed by itself. Now and then
it strikes at a fish so large and strong as to endanger its own
life; and I once saw one on the Florida coast, that, after striking
a fish, when standing in the water to the full length of its legs,
was dragged along for several yards, now on the surface, and again
beneath. When, after a severe struggle, the Heron disengaged itself,
it appeared quite overcome, and stood still near the shore, his head
turned from the sea, as if afraid to try another such experiment. The
number of fishes, measuring five or six inches, which one of these
birds devours in a day, is surprising: Some which I kept on board the
Marion would swallow, in the space of half an hour, a bucketful of
young mullets; and when fed on the flesh of green turtles, they would
eat several pounds at a meal. I have no doubt that, in favourable
circumstances, one of them could devour several hundreds of small
fishes in a day. A Heron that was caught alive on one of the Florida
keys, near Key West, looked so emaciated when it came on board, that
I had it killed to discover the cause of its miserable condition.
It was an adult female that had bred that spring; her belly was in
a state of mortification, and on opening her, we found the head of
a fish measuring several inches, which, in an undigested state, had
lodged among the entrails of the poor bird. How long it had suffered
could only be guessed, but this undoubtedly was the cause of the
miserable state in which it was found.
I took a pair of young Herons of this species to Charleston. They
were nearly able to fly when caught, and were standing erect a few
yards from the nest, in which lay a putrid one that seemed to have
been trampled to death by the rest. They offered little resistance,
but grunted with a rough uncouth voice. I had them placed in a large
coop, containing four individuals of the _Ardea occidentalis_, who
immediately attacked the new-comers in the most violent manner, so
that I was obliged to turn them loose on the deck. I had frequently
observed the great antipathy evinced by the majestic white species
towards the blue in the wild state, but was surprised to find it
equally strong in young birds which had never seen one, and were at
that period smaller than the others. All my endeavours to remove their
dislike were unavailing, for when placed in a large yard, the White
Herons attacked the Blue, and kept them completely under. The latter
became much tamer, and were more attached to each other. Whenever a
piece of turtle was thrown to them, it was dexterously caught in the
air and gobbled up in an instant, and as they became more familiar,
they ate bits of biscuit, cheese, and even rhinds of bacon.