the wind suddenly rose to a gale; but as I was exceedingly anxious
that a landing should be effected on the island, every exertion
was made to enable me to accomplish my purpose. The whale boat was
manned. THOMAS LINCOLN and my son leaped into it, accompanied by
young COOLEDGE. Urged by strong pulls, the buoyant boat advanced
towards the grim rock. For nearly an hour it became hidden from my
sight; but now and then the report of a gun brought intimation that
all was as yet safe; and at length I had the great pleasure of seeing
it advancing towards the Ripley, which stood off and on, shivering
as it were under the heavy blast. My eye fixed to the telescope,
watched every movement of the boat, as with fear I saw it tossed from
billow to billow, this moment a glimpse of her keel appearing over
the edge of a wave, the next a foot of her stem only seeming to float
on the waters. “Pull steadily on, my good lads,” at last came on my
ear, when, by a heavy surge, the floating shell was driven back some
twenty yards, as I thought, and the wave, foaming with wrath, broke
over her. Breathless and exhausted, the crew at length came within
reach of a line, as the boat was dangerously plunging, when by good
luck the rope was thrown across her, and in a few moments she lay
snug under our lee. How happy was I when I again saw my son, my young
companions, and the sailors, on the deck of the Ripley. Quickly was
the whaler hauled on board, and with joy we saw our vessel fly off
like a Kittiwake before the gale.
When the anxiety was over, inquiries were made as to the success of
the adventurous party. Several nests of the Kittiwake and many of
its eggs had been brought safe on board. Notes had been taken on the
spot, and the result of the expedition was as follows:—The nests were
found placed on some ledge of the huge rock, so small as barely to
admit their breadth, which was about a foot. They were placed where no
other bird than the Guillemot would have ventured to drop its egg, or
the Raven to fix his nest. Yet on that narrow platform the Kittiwake
sat on its three eggs, as unconcerned as if in a meadow. The nests
were altogether composed of sea-weeds called “eel-grass,” and coarse
grasses, probably procured on the top of the rock, or stolen from the
nest of some unwary Solan Goose. Their inner surface was quite flat,
although some of the nests were many inches in thickness, and looked
as if they had been increased in bulk year after year. The sitting
birds remained on their eggs with uncommon pertinacity, seldom indeed
flying off, but merely moving aside. The male birds, or those that
had no eggs, on the contrary, were extremely clamorous, flew around
the party in great concern, and shewed much courage. The eggs are of
a light olive-green colour, marked with numerous irregular spots of
dark brown. Their average length is two inches and a quarter, their
greatest breadth one inch and seven-eighths. No other species of Gull
was seen about the rock; and indeed I have regularly observed that
each species of this genus breeds far apart, although at all other
seasons it may associate with others.
The young remain a considerable time in the nest or about it, when
room is afforded. Their bills and feet are now quite black, the eye
dark, and they do not change these colours until the second spring
after their birth, when the bill is dull yellow, the legs and feet of
a greenish flesh-colour, and these parts gradually improve in their
tints until they acquire the appearance represented in the plate.
This species raises only one brood in the season, and old and young
leave the coast of Labrador at the first appearance of winter, or
when the Ivory Gull reaches that country. This, however, I know only
from hearsay, having received the information from a settler at Bras
d’Or, who has lived there many years, and must know something of both
species, as he was in the habit of salting young Kittiwakes for winter
provisions, along with those of other species, and of shooting the
Ivory Gull when it arrived over his harbour in the month of December.
The Kittiwake is on land the most awkward of its tribe; and, although
it walks often on the rocks, its gait manifests a waddling gaucherie;
but on the water, or in the air, few birds surpass it in buoyancy,
grace, and ease of motion. Bearing up against the heaviest gale,
it passes from one trough of the sea to another, as if anxious to
rest for an instant under the lee of the billows; yet as these are
seen to rear their curling crests, the Gull is already several feet
above them, and preparing to plunge into the next hollow. While in
our harbour, and during fine weather, they seemed to play with their
companions of other species. Now with a spiral curve, they descend
toward the water, support themselves by beats of their wings, decline
their heads, and pick up a young herring or some bit of garbage, when
away they fly, chased perhaps by several others anxious to rob them of
the prize. Noon has arrived. High above the mast-head of our tallest
man-of-war, the Kittiwakes float gracefully in wide circles, until
all, as if fatigued, sail downward again with common accord towards
the transparent deep, and, alighting close to each other, seem to
ride safely at anchor. There they now occupy themselves in cleaning
and arranging their beautiful plumage.
The food of this species consists of small fish, sea insects, and
small bivalves, most of which they procure while on wing, even those
left dry by the tide. Unlike the larger species, they do not take up
shell-fish to break them by letting them fall on the rocks; at least
I never saw them do so. Their principal enemies are different species
of Lestris, especially that beautiful one named the _L. parasiticus_.
This tormentor follows the Kittiwake to the very waters around the
Gulf of Florida during the winter. There with astonishing swiftness,
and an audacity scarcely to be surpassed, it gives chase to the Gull,
overtakes it, and forces it to alight on the water, or to disgorge
the fish which it has just swallowed.
The two represented in the plate were drawn at Boston, at the approach
of spring, when the old birds had already assumed the pure white of
the head. This species was so abundant on several of the islands of
the Bay of Boston, that several basketfuls of them were procured in
the course of a few excursions. When one fell to the water, the rest
would hover about and around the boat, until many were shot from a
flock. The case was the same, while we were in some of the harbours
of Labrador.
LARUS TRIDACTYLUS, _Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 817.—_Ch.
Bonaparte_, Synopsis of Birds of the United States, p.
359.—_Swains. and Richards._ Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p.
423.
KITTIWAKE GULL, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 298.
Adult in Summer. CCXXIV. Fig. 1.
Bill shorter than the head, strong, nearly straight, compressed. Upper
mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight and slightly declinate,
until towards the end, when it is decurved, the ridge convex, the
sides slightly convex, the edges a little inflected, straight, towards
the end declinate and arched, the tip rather obtuse. Nasal groove
narrow, rather long; nostril in its fore part, lateral, longitudinal,
linear, wider anteriorly, open, and pervious. Lower mandible with a
slight prominence at the end of the angle, which is long and narrow,
the dorsal line then nearly straight and ascending, the sides convex,
the edges sharp and inflected.
Head rather large, oblong, anteriorly compressed. Neck of moderate
length. Body rather full. Wings long. Feet of moderate length rather
strong; tibia bare below; tarsus somewhat compressed, covered before
and behind with numerous broad scutella, the sides reticulated; hind
toe rudimentary, with a minute knob in place of the claw; the fore
toes rather long and slender, the fourth longer than the second, all
scutellate above, and connected by reticulated entire membranes, the
lateral toes margined externally with a narrow membrane. Claws small,
compressed, slightly arched, rather obtuse.
The plumage in general is close, elastic, very soft and blended, on
the back somewhat compact. Wings very long, rather broad, acute, the
first quill longest, the other primaries rapidly graduated; secondaries
broad and rounded, the inner elongated and narrow. Tail of moderate
length, even, of twelve rounded feathers.
Bill pale greenish-yellow. Edges of eyelids crimson; iris
reddish-brown. Feet black. The head, neck, rump, tail, and lower
parts generally are pure white. The back and upper surface of the
wings light pearl-grey. The first five quills are black at the end,
the first on its outer web also, the fifth with a small white tip,
the tips of all the other quills more or less white.
Length to end of tail 18 inches, to end of wings 20, to end of claws
17; extent of wings 36-1/2; wing from flexure 12, tail 7; bill along
the back 1-1/2, along the edge of lower mandible 2-2/12; tarsus 1-7/12;
middle toe its claw 4/12. Weight 1-1/2 lb.
Young bird in January. Plate CCXXIV. Fig. 2.
Bill and feet black. Edges of eyelids and iris as in the adult. The
hind head and neck are bluish-grey, and before the eye there is a
semilunar blackish mark, the tips of the auriculars also dark grey.
Forehead, sides of the head, throat, and lower parts, white, as is
the rump. Tail white, with a broad terminal band of black, the outer
feather having only a spot on the inner web. The mantle is bluish-grey,
but a broad band of black crosses the lower part of the hind neck, and
the larger wing-coverts are of the same colour towards the end. The
primary quills are black, more or less margined with white internally.
Length to end of tail 17 inches, to end of wings 19, to end of claws
17; extent of wings 36-5/12. Weight 14-1/2 oz.
THE KILDEER PLOVER.
_CHARADRIUS VOCIFERUS_, WILS.
PLATE CCXV. MALE AND FEMALE.
Reader, suppose yourself wandering over some extensive prairie, far
beyond the western shores of the Mississippi. While your wearied limbs
and drooping spirits remind you of the necessity of repose and food,
you see the moon’s silvery rays glitter on the dews that have already
clothed the tall grass around you. Your footsteps, be they ever so
light, strike the ear of the watchful Kildeer, who, with a velocity
scarcely surpassed by that of any other bird, comes up, and is now
passing and repassing swiftly around you. His clear notes indicate
his alarm, and seem to demand why _you_ are there. To see him is now
impossible, for a cloud has shrouded the moon; but on your left and
right, before and behind, his continued vociferations intimate how
glad he would be to see you depart from his beloved hunting-grounds.
Nay, be not surprised if he should follow you until his eyes, meeting
the glaring light of a woodsman traveller, he will wheel off and bid
you adieu.
The Kildeer’s large eyes seem to be given it to enable it to feed
by night as well as by day. At any time after the breeding season,
this species moves in loose flocks, seldom exceeding ten or fifteen
individuals, which disperse over the space of an acre or two of ground.
Yet some one of them always acts as a sentinel, for standing erect
to the full stretch of its legs, it carefully watches all the moving
objects around, as far as its eye can reach. Cows, horses, or sheep
are none of its enemies, and among them it will seek for food; but
let a man, or a dog, or any other animal bent on destruction, shew
himself, and that instant the bird runs swiftly with a querulous note,
and should any of these his enemies evince the least disposition to
molest it, its beautiful wings and tail are spread, and away it goes,
cheerily calling to its companions to follow.
The Kildeer is by most people called a “noisy bird and restless.” Now
to me it is any thing but this, unless indeed when it is disturbed
by the approach or appearance of its enemies, more particularly man,
of whom indeed few wild birds are fond. Watch them from under some
cover that completely conceals you, and you will see them peaceably
and silently follow their avocations for hours. In this respect
the Kildeer resembles the Lapwing of Europe, which is also called
a restless and noisy bird, because men and dogs are ever in pursuit
of the poor thing, which after all its vigilance often falls a prey
to the sportsman, who condemns it merely because it endeavours to
draw him from its nest or young. During winter, when undisturbed,
the Kildeer is in fact an unusually silent bird. In Louisiana, where
it breeds and resides at all seasons, it has obtained the name of
“Piallard,” so strongly rooted are old prejudices.
The Kildeer, or more properly “Kildee,” so named on account of its
note, which may be imitated by the syllables _kildee, kildee, dee, dee,
dee_, appear in much greater numbers in the interior than along the
coast. Few are seen in the State of Maine; none, I believe, in Nova
Scotia, any more than in Newfoundland or Labrador. Inland, however,
these birds remove to a great distance north. Unless during winter,
in fact, this species is not wont to approach the shores of the sea,
but prefers the newly ploughed fields, the banks of clear rivers, or
the elevated worn-out grounds of the interior. Few winter to the east
of Boston, while during the cold season they abound in the Southern
States, although thousands spend the most rigorous months in the
Western Country. In the Floridas, Georgia, and South Carolina, you
find them dispersed through the sugar, cotton and rice fields; and
now they are so gentle and so silent, that you can hardly conceive
why they should be called noisy birds. Around the pools, upon the
marshes, and along the oyster-beds at low tides, as well as on the
extensive mud-flats, you will then meet with them diligently searching
for food, and not neglecting to watch you with distrust. Even in the
corn-fields and in company with Doves and Grakles, or by the side of
some strolling Partridge, you may now and then spy the Kildeer. At
this period I have sometimes got so near to it that I could clearly
see the pale red margin of its beautiful eye. The bird would perhaps
run a few steps, when suddenly checking its course, it would stand
still, erect and rigid. Should I level my gun in jest, he would that
instant fly off low over the ground, removing to the distance of a
hundred yards, alight running as it were, advance twenty or thirty
steps more, and then stand still. I would now again approach it as
before. Never try it the third time, Reader, the Kildeer will denounce
you as an enemy. It will stretch its wings, fly across a river or
field, and leave you to amuse yourself as you may. Many a time have
I been thus treated.
The flight of the Kildeer is strong and rapid, and is at times
protracted to a great distance. It skims quite low over the ground,
or plays at a great height in the air, particularly during the
love season, when you may see these birds performing all sorts of
evolutions on wing. On the ground their speed is such that it has
become proverbial, and to “run like a Kildee,” is to move with the
utmost possible agility. Their ordinary posture when standing, might
be called stiff, were they not so beautiful in form and colouring.
When pursued over a large space, they are able to lead you from one
spot to another more than twenty times in the course of an hour; and
the more you follow them, the more shy do they become, until wearied
and hungry, as the fox said of the grapes, you will probably begin
to think them poor and insipid after all.
Now you see the Kildee wading in the water, and observe how it
splashes it about. Down it lays itself, and with fluttering wings,
seems to enjoy the sight of the drops trickling over its silky back.
Now dripping and almost soaked to the skin, it retires to the warm
earth, to dry its plumage and clear it of insects.
This species breeds in Louisiana about the beginning of April; in the
Middle States a full month later, as well as in the Western Country
and farther north. Not one, however, has ever been found breeding in
the low lands of South Carolina, although these birds remain there
until the beginning of May. The nests are various, some being merely
a hollow scooped in the bare ground, while at other times the Kildee
searches for a place on the edge of a pond, forms a hollow, and
constructs a nest of grass, at the foot of a thick bunch of plants.
Now and then small pebbles and fragments of shells are raised in the
form of a rim around the eggs, on which the sitting bird is seen as
if elevated two or three inches. WILSON saw nests of this kind; so
have I; and the circumstance appeared as strange to me as that of
the birds not breeding in the low lands of the Carolinas. The eggs
are almost always four, pyriform, well pointed at the small end, an
inch and five-eighths in length, an inch and one eighth in diameter
at the broadest part, and of a deep cream colour, pretty generally
marked all over with small irregular blotches of purplish-brown and
black. The young, as soon as hatched, run about. At this period, or
during incubation, the parents, who sit alternately on the eggs, never
leaving them to the heat of the sun, are extremely clamorous at sight
of an enemy. The female droops her wings, emits her plaintive notes,
and endeavours by every means she can devise to draw you from the nest
or young. The male dashes over you in the air, in the manner of the
European Lapwing, and vociferates all the remonstrances of an angry
parent whose family is endangered. If you cannot find pity for the
poor birds at such a time, you may take up their eggs and see their
distress; but if you be at all so tender-hearted as I would wish you
to be, it will be quite unnecessary for me to recommend mercy!
Few Plovers with which I am acquainted, acquire their full plumage
sooner than this species. Before December you can observe no difference
between the young birds and their parents; nay by this time, like
most other species, the former are as fully able to fly as at any
other period.
While I was residing in Pennsylvania, the son of my tenant the miller
was in the habit of catching newly-hatched birds of every sort, to
bait his fish-hooks. I had rather peremptorily remonstrated against
this barbarous practice, although, I believe, without effect. One
morning I met him returning from the shores of the Perkioming Creek,
with his hat full of young Kildees. He endeavoured to avoid me, but
I made directly up to him, peeped into his hat and saw the birds. On
this I begged of him to go back and restore the poor things to their
parents, which he reluctantly did. Never had I felt more happy than
I did when I saw the young Plovers run off and hide under cover of
the stones.
The Kildee seems to be remarkably attached to certain localities at
particular periods. Whilst at General HERNANDEZ’s in East Florida,
I accidentally wounded one near a barn on the plantation of my
accomplished host. Yet it returned to the same spot for the ten days
that I remained there, although it always flew off when I approached
it.
The food of this species consists of earth-worms, grass-hoppers,
crickets, and coleopterous insects, as well as small crustacea,
whether of salt or fresh water, and snails. Now and then they may be
seen thrusting their bills into the mud about oysters, in search of
some other food. During autumn, they run about the old fields and
catch an insect which the Blue Bird has been watching with anxious
care from the top of a withering mullein stalk. They run briskly
after the ploughman, to pick up the worms that have been turned out
of their burrows. Now standing on the grassy meadow, after a shower,
you see them patting the moist ground, to force out its inhabitants.
During winter, you meet with them on elevated ground, or along the
margins of the rivers; but wherever you observe one about to pick up
its food, you clearly see its body moving in a see-saw manner on the
joints of the legs, until the former being so placed that the bill
can reach the ground, the object is seized, and the usual horizontal
position is resumed.
The flesh of the Kildee is generally indifferent, unless in early
autumn, when the young birds of that season are fat, juicy and
tender. At all seasons of the year, the Kildee is however shot by
inexperienced sportsmen, and many of these birds are offered for sale
in our markets. Little difference is observed at any period in the
plumage of the adult birds.
CHARADRIUS VOCIFERUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p.
253.—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 742.—_Ch. Bonaparte_,
Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 297.—_Swains. and
Richards._ Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 368.
KILDEER PLOVER, CHARADRIUS VOCIFERUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
vol. vii. p. 73. pl. 59. fig. 6.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol.
ii. p. 22.
Adult Male in summer. Plate CCXXV. Fig. 1.
Bill shorter than the head, straight, somewhat cylindrical. Upper
mandible with the dorsal line straight for two-thirds of its length,
then bulging a little and curving to the tip, which is rather acute,
the sides flat and sloping at the base, convex towards the end,
where the edges are sharp and inclinate. Nasal groove extended along
two-thirds of the mandible, filled with a bare membrane; nostrils
basal, linear, in the lower part of the membrane, open, and pervious.
Lower mandible with the angle long, narrow, but rounded, the sides
at the base sloping outwards and flat, the dorsal line ascending and
slightly convex, the edges sharp and involute towards the narrow tip.
Head of moderate size, oblong, rather compressed, the forehead rounded.
Eyes large. Neck rather short. Body ovate, rather slender. Wings
long. Feet long, slender; tibia bare a considerable way above the
joint; tarsus rather compressed, covered all round with reticulated
hexagonal scales; toes slender; the hind toe wanting; third or middle
toe longest, outer toe considerably longer than inner, all scutellate
above and marginate, the outer connected with the middle toe by a
membrane as far as the second joint; claws small, compressed, slender
but obtuse at the end, the inner edge of the middle claw slightly
dilated.
Plumage soft and blended; the feathers rounded, those of the back
somewhat distinct. Wings long and pointed; primary quills tapering,
the first longest, the second a little shorter, the rest rapidly
graduated; inner secondaries tapering and elongated, so as nearly
to equal the longest primaries. Tail rather long, much rounded or
graduated, of twelve rather broad rounded feathers.
Bill black. Edges of eyelids bright red; iris dark brown. Feet
light greyish-blue, the hind part of the tarsus pale flesh colour.
Upper part of the head, the back, the smaller wing-coverts, and the
secondary quills, yellowish-brown. Lower parts white. A brown bar
over the lower part of the forehead, and passing under the eye to
the occiput; over this a white band on the forehead, surmounted by
a brownish-black band between the eyes; behind the eyes also a short
white band, ending in light red. The middle of the neck is encircled
with a broad brownish-black collar, and on its lower part anteriorly
between the wings is a narrower band of the same colour. Primaries
brownish-black, each with a white mark, linear on the outer, enlarging
on the inner quills. Secondaries, excepting the inner, white, but
most of them with a large patch of blackish-brown towards the end;
their tips and those of most of the primaries white, as are those of
the primary and secondary coverts. Rump and upper tail-coverts bright
yellowish-red. Tail-feathers of the same colour at the base, the
middle feathers brown, all with a broad subterminal band of black,
the tips white, those of the four middle feathers pale reddish; the
outer feather on each side white, with three black bands on the inner
web.
Length to end of tail 10 inches, to end of wings 9, to end of claws
9-1/2; extent of wings 20; wing from flexure 6-1/2; tail 4; bill along
the back 10/12, along the edge (11-1/2)/12; tarsus 1-5/12; middle
toe 11/12, its claw 3/12. Weight 5-3/4 ounces.
Adult Female in summer. Plate CCXXV. Fig. 2.
The Female resembles the Male.
THE WHITE PERCH AND ITS FAVORITE BAIT.
No sooner have the overflowing waters of early spring subsided within
their banks, and the temperature become pleasant, than the trees of
our woods are seen to unfold their buds and blossoms, and the White
Perch, which during the winter has lived in the ocean, rushes up our
streams, to seek the well-known haunts in which it last year deposited
its spawn. With unabating vigour it ascends the turbulent current of
the Mississippi, of which, however, the waters are too muddy to suit
its habits; and glad no doubt is it to enter one of the numberless
tributaries whose limpid waters are poured into the mighty river.
Of these subsidiary waters the Ohio is one in whose pure stream the
White Perch seems to delight; and towards its head springs the fish
advances in numerous shoals, following the banks with easy progress.
Over many a pebbly or gravelly bar does it seek its food. Here the
crawling mussel it crunches and devours; there, with the speed of an
arrow, it darts upon the minnow; again, at the edge of a shelving
rock, or by the side of a stone, it secures a crayfish. No impure
food will “the Growler” touch; therefore, reader, never make use of
such to allure it, otherwise not only will your time be lost, but
you will not enjoy the gratification of tasting this delicious fish.
Should you have no experience in fishing for perch, I would recommend
to you to watch the men you see on that shore, for they are excellent
anglers.