The Young, when fledged, have the upper part of the head of an
olivaceous brown, like the back and wings, the neck of a light dull
grey, the chin dull white, the lower parts light grey tinged with
yellowish on the breast, most of the feathers tipped with whitish,
the lines on the hypochondrial feathers of a dull cream colour and
of small extent. The frontal plate is small, and with the bill of a
dingy greenish colour, as are the feet, the claws yellowish-brown.
On comparing together a great number of European and American
specimens, I can find no specific differences. Individuals of either
kind are larger or smaller, their frontal plates differ in size and
somewhat in form, as do the bill and the claws; but if the species
are really different, Nature has made them so wonderfully like each
other, that there seems to me no possibility of distinguishing them.
My friend Dr NEILL has furnished me with the following anecdotes
illustrative of the habits of this bird. “At Canonmills Loch,
near Edinburgh, a pair (or sometimes two pairs) of water-hens
breed yearly, making their nest on the branches of some very large
_saughs_ (willow-trees, _Salix russeliana_) growing in my garden, and
overhanging the pond. One season (four or five years ago) finding
themselves persecuted by a tame heron, which watched and devoured
their first young brood (for we detected him in the act), they
formed their next nest more than _fifteen_ feet high on the trunk
of the willow-tree. There the eggs were hatched in safety, four or
five young being in due time seen sailing about with the old birds.
We had only one pair on the Loch last summer. How they descended to
the water can only be conjectured: they might have crept downwards
three or four feet, but they must at all events have fallen at once
from a height of not less than twelve feet. When the pond is frozen
over and covered with skaters, the water-hens enter the garden and
conceal themselves in an overgrown rock-work, subsisting on minced
flesh mixed with bread or potatoes, purposely laid down for them, and
on which I have often watched them feasting when the snow was lying
deep.”
THE LARGE-BILLED GUILLEMOT.
_URIA BRUNNICHII_, SABINE.
PLATE CCXLV. ADULT MALE.
I have never observed this bird on any part of the coast of our Middle
Districts, and, although I was told that it not unfrequently occurred
about the Bay of Boston, I failed in my endeavours to procure it there.
The specimen from which my figure was made was sent to me in ice, along
with several other rare birds, from Eastport in Maine. I received it
quite fresh and in excellent plumage, on the 18th of February 1833. It
had been shot along with several other individuals of the same species
while searching for food in the waters of Pasmaquody Bay, which were
then covered with broken ice. Its flight was described by Mr CURTIS,
who sent it to me, as similar to that of the Foolish Guillemot, with
which it associated. No other information was transmitted, excepting
that it dived and swam like the other species. I afterwards sent the
skin to my friend JOHN BACHMAN, in whose collection it remains.
No individuals of this species were observed by my party on our way
to Labrador; and as the Foolish Guillemot was abundant on the coast
of that country, I concluded that the Thick-billed Guillemots which
visit our eastern seas in winter, set out for the far north at an
earlier period than the others. I am indebted to Mr HEWITSON of
Newcastle, author of the “British Oology,” for a description of an
egg of this bird, which is in the valuable collection of the Messrs
HANCOCKS, who procured it from Greenland. It measures 3-1/8 inches in
length, by 2-1/8 at its broadest part, and is of a bluish-green colour,
streaked and spotted with black or very dark umber.
URIA BRUNNICHII, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United
States, p. 424.
URIA BRUNNICHII, BRUNNICH’S GUILLEMOT, _Swains. and
Richards._ Fauna Bor. Amer. part ii. p. 477.
LARGE-BILLED GUILLEMOT, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 529.
Adult Male in winter. Plate CCXLV.
Bill shorter than the head, stout, tapering, compressed, acute. Upper
mandible with the dorsal line slightly curved, the ridge narrow,
broader at the base, the sides sloping, the edges sharp and inflected,
the tip a little decurved, with a slight notch. Nasal groove broad,
feathered; nostrils at its lower edge, subbasal, lateral, longitudinal,
linear, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle medial, narrow, the
dorsal line sloping upwards and straight, the back very narrow, the
sides nearly flat, the edges sharp and inflected.
Head large, oblong, depressed, narrowed before. Eyes of moderate size.
Neck short and thick. Body stout, rather depressed. Wings small. Feet
short, placed far behind; the greater part of the tibia concealed,
its lower portion bare; tarsus short, stout, compressed, anteriorly
sharp, and covered with a double row of scutella, the sides with
angular scales; toes of moderate length, the first wanting, the third
longest, the fourth longer than the second, all covered above with
numerous scutella, webbed, the lateral ones with small margins; claws
small, slightly arched, compressed, rather acute, that of the middle
toe largest, with a dilated inner edge.
Plumage dense, very soft, blended; on the head very short. Wings
rather short, narrow, acute; primary quills curved, tapering, the
second longest, the first slightly shorter, the rest rapidly graduated;
secondaries short, incurved, broad, rounded. Tail very short, rounded,
of twelve narrow feathers.
Bill black. Iris dark brown. Feet dusky, tinged with red. The general
colour of the plumage is greyish-black on the upper parts, those of
the head tinged with brown. The sides of the head and neck, its fore
part, the breast, abdomen, edges of the wings and the tips of the
secondaries, white; the sides shaded with greyish-black; a line of
the same behind the eye.
Length to end of tail 18-1/2 inches, to end of claws 21-1/2; extent of
wings 30; wing from flexure 8, tail 2-1/2; bill along the ridge 1-2/12,
along the edge of lower mandible 2; tarsus 1-4/12; middle toe 1-8/12,
its claw 5/12. Weight 2-1/4 lb.
PITTING OF WOLVES.
There seems to be a universal feeling of hostility among men against
the Wolf, whose strength, agility, and cunning, which latter is
scarcely inferior to that of his relative master Reynard, tend to
render him an object of hatred, especially to the husbandman, on whose
flocks he is ever apt to commit depredations. In America, where this
animal was formerly abundant, and in many parts of which it still
occurs in considerable numbers, it is not more mercifully dealt with
than in other parts of the world. Traps and snares of all sorts are
set for catching it, while dogs and horses are trained for hunting
the Fox. The Wolf, however, unless in some way injured, being more
powerful and perhaps better winded than the Fox, is rarely pursued with
hounds or any other dogs in open chase; but as his depredations are
at times extensive and highly injurious to the farmer, the greatest
exertions have been used to exterminate his race. Few instances have
occurred among us of any attack made by Wolves on man, and only one
has come under my own notice.
Two young Negroes who resided near the banks of the Ohio, in the
lower part of the State of Kentucky, about twenty-three years ago,
had sweethearts living on a plantation ten miles distant. After the
labours of the day were over, they frequently visited the fair ladies
of their choice, the nearest way to whose dwelling lay directly across
a great cane brake. As to the lover every moment is precious, they
usually took this route, to save time. Winter had commenced, cold,
dark, and forbidding, and after sunset scarcely a glimpse of light
or glow of warmth, one might imagine, could be found in that dreary
swamp, excepting in the eyes and bosoms of the ardent youths, or the
hungry Wolves that prowled about. The snow covered the earth, and
rendered them more easy to be scented from a distance by the famished
beasts. Prudent in a certain degree, the young lovers carried their
axes on their shoulders, and walked as briskly as the narrow path
would allow. Some transient glimpses of light now and then met their
eyes, but so faint were they that they believed them to be caused
by their faces coming in contact with the slender reeds covered with
snow. Suddenly, however, a long and frightful howl burst upon them,
and they instantly knew that it proceeded from a troop of hungry,
perhaps desperate Wolves. They stopped, and putting themselves in an
attitude of defence, awaited the result. All around was dark, save a
few feet of snow, and the silence of night was dismal. Nothing could
be done to better their situation, and after standing a few minutes in
expectation of an attack, they judged it best to resume their march;
but no sooner had they replaced their axes on their shoulders, and
begun to move, than the foremost found himself assailed by several
foes. His legs were held fast as if pressed by a powerful screw, and
the torture inflicted by the fangs of the ravenous animal was for
a moment excruciating. Several Wolves in the mean time sprung upon
the breast of the other Negro, and dragged him to the ground. Both
struggled manfully against their foes; but in a short time one of
them ceased to move, and the other, reduced in strength, and perhaps
despairing of maintaining his ground, still more of aiding his
unfortunate companion, sprung to the branch of a tree, and speedily
gained a place of safety near the top. The next morning, the mangled
remains of his comrade lay scattered around on the snow, which was
stained with blood. Three dead Wolves lay around, but the rest of the
pack had disappeared, and Scipio, sliding to the ground, took up the
axes, and made the best of his way home, to relate the sad adventure.
About two years after this occurrence, as I was travelling between
Henderson and Vincennes, I chanced to stop for the night at a farmer’s
house by the side of the road. After putting up my horse and refreshing
myself, I entered into conversation with mine host, who asked if I
should like to pay a visit to the wolf-pits, which were about half
a mile distant. Glad of the opportunity I accompanied him across the
fields to the neighbourhood of a deep wood, and soon saw the engines
of destruction. He had three pits, within a few hundred yards of each
other. They were about eight feet deep, and broader at bottom, so as
to render it impossible for the most active animal to escape from
them. The aperture was covered with a revolving platform of twigs,
attached to a central axis. On either surface of the platform was
fastened a large piece of putrid venison, with other matters by no
means pleasant to my olfactory nerves, although no doubt attractive
to the Wolves. My companion wished to visit them that evening, merely
as he was in the habit of doing so daily, for the purpose of seeing
that all was right. He said that Wolves were very abundant that
autumn, and had killed nearly the whole of his sheep and one of his
colts, but that he was now “paying them off in full;” and added that
if I would tarry a few hours with him next morning, he would beyond
a doubt shew me some sport rarely seen in those parts. We retired to
rest in due time, and were up with the dawn.
“I think,” said my host, “that all’s right, for I see the dogs are
anxious to get away to the pits, and although they are nothing but
curs, their noses are none the worse for that.” As he took up his
gun, an axe and a large knife, the dogs began to howl and bark, and
whisked around us, as if full of joy. When we reached the first pit,
we found the bait all gone, and the platform much injured; but the
animal that had been entrapped had scraped a subterranean passage
for himself and so escaped. On peeping into the next, he assured me
that “three famous fellows were safe enough” in it. I also peeped in
and saw the Wolves, two black, and the other brindled, all of goodly
size, sure enough. They lay flat on the earth, their ears laid close
over the head, their eyes indicating fear more than anger. “But how
are we to get them out?”—“How Sir,” said the farmer, “why by going
down to be sure, and ham-stringing them.” Being a novice in these
matters, I begged to be merely a looker-on. “With all my heart,” quoth
the farmer, “stand here, and look at me through the brush.” Whereupon
he glided down, taking with him his axe and knife, and leaving his
rifle to my care. I was not a little surprised to see the cowardice
of the Wolves. He pulled out successively their hind legs, and with
a side stroke of the knife cut the principal tendon above the joint,
exhibiting as little fear as if he had been marking lambs.
“Lo!” exclaimed the farmer, when he had got out, “we have forgot
the rope; I’ll go after it.” Off he went accordingly, with as much
alacrity as any youngster could shew. In a short time he returned
out of breath, and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand—“Now
for it.” I was desired to raise and hold the platform on its central
balance, whilst he, with all the dexterity of an Indian, threw a noose
over the neck of one of the Wolves. We hauled it up motionless with
fright, as if dead, its disabled legs swinging to and fro, its jaws
wide open, and the gurgle in its throat alone indicating that it was
alive. Letting him drop on the ground, the farmer loosened the rope
by means of a stick, and left him to the dogs, all of which set upon
him with great fury and soon worried him to death. The second was
dealt with in the same manner; but the third, which was probably the
oldest, as it was the blackest, shewed some spirit, the moment it was
left loose to the mercy of the curs. This Wolf, which we afterwards
found to be a female, scuffled along on its fore legs at a surprising
rate, giving a snap every now and then to the nearest dog, which went
off howling dismally with a mouthful of skin torn from its side. And
so well did the furious beast defend itself, that apprehensive of its
escape, the farmer levelled his rifle at it, and shot it through the
heart, on which the curs rushed upon it, and satiated their vengeance
on the destroyer of their master’s flock.
THE EIDER DUCK.
_FULIGULA MOLLISSIMA_, BONAP.
PLATE CCXLVI. MALE AND FEMALE.
The history of this remarkable duck must ever be looked upon with
great interest by the student of nature. The depressed form of its
body, the singular shape of its bill, the beautiful colouring of its
plumage, the value of its down as an article of commerce, and the
nature of its haunts, render it a very remarkable species. Considering
it as such, I shall endeavour to lay before you as full an account
of it as I have been able to obtain from my own observation.
The fact that the Eider Duck breeds on our eastern coasts, must be
interesting to the American Ornithologist, whose fauna possesses but
few birds of this family that do so. The Fuligulæ are distinguished
from all other ducks that feed in fresh or salt water, by the
comparative shortness of the neck, the greater expansion of their feet,
the more depressed form of their body, and their power of diving to a
considerable depth, in order to reach the beds on which their favourite
shelly food abounds. Their flight, too, differs from that of the true
ducks, inasmuch as it is performed nearer the surface of the water.
Rarely, indeed, do the Fuligulæ fly at any considerable height over
that element, and with the exception of three species, they are rarely
met with inland, unless when driven thither by storms. They differ,
moreover, in their propensity to breed in communities, and often at a
very small distance from each other. Lastly, they are in general more
ready to abandon their females, the moment incubation has commenced.
Thus the female is left in a state of double responsibility, which
she meets, however, with a courage equal to the occasion, although
alone and unprotected.
The Eider is now seldom seen farther south along our eastern coast
than the vicinity of New York. WILSON says they are occasionally
observed as far as the Capes of Delaware; but at the present day this
must be an extremely rare occurrence, for the fishermen of the Jerseys
informed me that they knew nothing of this duck. In WILSON’s time,
however, it bred in considerable numbers, from Boston to the Bay of
Fundy, and it is still to be met with on the rocky shores and islands
between these points. Farther to the eastward they become more and
more plentiful, until you reach Labrador, to which thousands of pairs
annually resort, to breed and spend the short summer. Many, however,
proceed much farther north; but, as usual, I will here confine myself
to my own observations.
In the latter part of October 1832, the Eiders were seen in
considerable numbers in the Bay of Boston. A large bagful of them was
brought to me by a fisherman-gunner in my employ, a person advanced in
years, formerly a brave tar, and one whom I feel some pride in telling
you I assisted in obtaining a small pension from our government, being
supported in my application by two of my Boston friends, the one the
generous GEORGE PARKMAN, M. D., the other that great statesman JOHN
QUINCEY ADAMS. The old man had once served under my father, and to
receive a bagful of Eider Ducks from him was a gratification which
you may more easily conceive than I can describe. Well, there were
the ducks, all turned out on the floor; young males still resembling
their mother, others of more advanced age, and several males and
females complete in all their parts, only that the bills of the
former had lost the orange tint, which that part exhibits during a
few weeks of the breeding season. Twenty-one there were in all, and
they had been killed in a single day by the veteran and his son. Those
masterly gunners told me, that to procure this species, they were in
the habit of anchoring their small vessel about fifty yards off the
rocky isles round which these birds harbour and feed at this season.
There, while the birds were passing on wing, although usually in long
lines, they could now and then kill two of them at a shot. Sometimes
the King Eider was also procured under similar circumstances, as the
two species are wont to associate together during winter. At Boston
the Eiders sold that winter at from fifty to seventy-five cents the
pair, and they are much sought after by Epicures.
On the 31st of May 1833, my son and party killed six Eiders on the
island of Grand Manan, off the Bay of Fundy, where the birds were
seen in considerable numbers, and were just beginning to breed. A
nest containing two eggs, but not a particle of down, was found at
a distance of more than fifty yards from the water.
Immediately after landing on the coast of Labrador, on the 18th of June
in the same year, we saw a great number of “Sea Ducks,” as the gunners
and fishermen on that coast, as well as on our own, call the Eiders
and some other species. On visiting an island in “Partridge Bay,” we
procured several females. The birds there paid little attention to
us, and some allowed us to approach within a few feet before they left
their nests, which were so numerous that a small boat-load might have
been collected, had the party been inclined. They were all placed amid
the short grass growing in the fissures of the rock, and therefore
in rows, as it were. The eggs were generally five or six, in several
instances eight, and in one ten. Not a male bird was to be seen. At
the first discharge of the guns, all the sitting birds flew off and
alighted in the sea, at a distance of about a hundred yards. They
then collected, splashed up the water, and washed themselves, until
the boat left the place. Many of the nests were unprovided with down;
some had more or less than others, and some, from which the female
was absent when the party landed, were quite covered with it, and
the eggs felt warm to the hand. The musquitoes and flies were there
as abundant and as tormenting as in any of the Florida swamps.
On the 24th of the same month, two male Eiders, much advanced in
the moult, were shot out of a flock all composed of individuals of
the same sex. While rambling over the moss-covered shores of a small
pond, on the 7th of July, we saw two females with their young on the
water. As we approached the edges, the old birds lowered their heads
and swam off with those parts lying flat on the surface, while the
young followed so close as almost to touch them. On firing at them
without shot, they all dived at once, but rose again in a moment,
the mothers quacking and murmuring. The young dived again, and we
saw no more of them; the old birds took to wing, and, flying over
the hills, made for the sea, from which we were fully a mile distant.
How their young were to reach it was at that time to me a riddle; but
was afterwards rendered intelligible, as you will see in the sequel.
On the 9th of July, while taking an evening walk, I saw flocks of
female Eiders without broods. They were in deep moult, kept close to
the shore in a bay, and were probably sterile birds. On my way back
to the vessel, the captain and I started a female from a broad flat
rock, more than a hundred yards from the water, and, on reaching
the spot, we found her nest, which was placed on the bare surface,
without a blade of grass within five yards of it. It was of the usual
bulky construction, and contained five eggs, deeply buried in down.
She flew round us until we retired, when we had the pleasure to see
her alight, walk to her nest, and compose herself upon it.
Large flocks of males kept apart, and frequented the distant sea
islands at this period, when scarcely any were able to fly to any
distance, although they swam about from one island to another with
great ease. Before their moulting had commenced, or fully a month
earlier, these male birds, we observed, flew in long lines from place
to place around the outermost islands every morning and evening,
thus securing themselves from their enemies, and roosted in numbers
close together on some particular rock difficult to be approached
by boats, where they remained during the short night. By the 1st of
August scarcely an Eider Duck was to be seen on the coast of Labrador.
The young were then able to fly, the old birds had nearly completed
their moult, and all were moving southward.
Having now afforded you some idea of the migrations and general habits
of this interesting bird from spring to the close of the short summer
of the desolate regions of Labrador, I proceed, with my journals
before me, and my memory refreshed by reading my notes, to furnish
you with such details as may perhaps induce you to study its habits
in other parts of the world.
The Eider Duck generally arrives on the coasts of Newfoundland and
Labrador about the 1st of May, nearly a fortnight before the waters of
the Gulf of St Lawrence are freed from ice. None are seen there during
winter, and their first appearance is looked upon with pleasure by
the few residents as an assurance of the commencement of the summer
season. At this period they are seen passing in long files not many
feet above the ice or the surface of the water, along the main shores,
and around the inner bays or islands, as if in search of the places
where they had formerly nestled, or where they had been hatched. All
the birds appear to be paired, and in perfect plumage. After a few
days, during which they rest themselves on the shores fronting the
south, most of them remove to the islands that border the coast, at
distances varying from half a mile to five or six miles. The rest seek
for places in which to form their nests, along the craggy shores,
or by the borders of the stunted fir woods not far from the water,
a few proceeding as far as about a mile into the interior. They are
now seen only in pairs, and they soon form their nests. I have never
had an opportunity of observing their courtships, nor have I received
any account of them worthy of particular notice.