very shallow cavity. The eggs are four or five, seldom more than six
or seven, and resemble in colour those of the _Rallus crepitans_,
although smaller, measuring an inch and a quarter in length, by
eleven-twelfths in breadth, and being rather more rounded. The young
are covered with a jet black down, and run after their mother as soon
as they make their escape from the egg;—at least I suppose this to
be the case, on account of my having caught some that seemed newly
hatched. The mother leads them with the greatest care among the long
grass of the damp meadows, or the weeds growing near the ponds, to
which they resort at all times, and particularly near the margins
of pools or muddy streams, into which they run and disperse on the
least appearance of danger. When no water is near, the little ones
squat in silence, and await the call of their parent, to which all
at once answer, when they quickly collect once more around her.

This species is able to cling to, and climb along the blades of tall
grasses, even under water, when in danger, and is equally able to swim
gracefully to a considerable distance, as to alight on low bushes, in
which situation I have shot a few of them. When amid the broad leaves
of water-lilies, they walk and run on them with as much ease as the
Gallinules; and I would be inclined to assign them an intermediate
station between the genera Rallus and Crex, as they partake of the
habits of both. When pursued, the Virginian Rail is, with great
difficulty, put up, as I have already mentioned, but when it is once
on wing it may be shot by a very ordinary gunner. It rises without
noise, flies off with its legs dangling and its neck stretched out,
but seldom proceeds farther than twenty or thirty yards at a time,
unless when it has a stream to cross, or during its migrations. Like
all the other species with which I am acquainted, it feeds both by
day and by night. Its food consists of small slugs, snails, aquatic
insects, worms, crustacea, and the seeds of those grasses which grow
in salt or fresh water marshes, in either of which they reside and
even breed. I have not been able to ascertain whether they lay more
than once in the season; but, on account of the comparatively small
number of this species, I am inclined to suppose that they seldom
raise more than one brood, unless their eggs have been destroyed,
whether by inundation or otherwise.

The Virginian Rail is not without enemies; and, although it manifests
a good deal of courage, and at times acts towards the Marsh Hawk
in the same manner as the _Rallus crepitans_, it seldom succeeds in
its attempts, and on several occasions I have seen that bird seize
them as they attempted to strike it with their bill and claws for
the purpose of driving it away. The minx, the garfish, the snapping
turtle, and sometimes eels, destroy them, as well as the Sora Rail.

Whilst at Charleston in South Carolina, I frequently saw little strings
of these birds exposed in the market, at a very low price; and they
are excellent eating during autumn and winter. Their comparative
scarcity, however, prevents the gunner from searching after them with
the same eagerness as he pursues the _Rallus crepitans_, and to shoot
a dozen in the course of a day may be considered a remarkable feat.
In that country, during the latter part of autumn, and in winter,
they are usually met with in the salt-marshes bordering the estuaries
of large rivers.

Like the two preceding species, the Virginian Rail has the power of
contracting its body to enable it to pass with more ease between the
stalks of strong grasses or other plants. When observed unseen, it
frequently jerks the tail upwards, in the manner of Gallinules, but
the moment it notices any one of its enemies, it droops the tail,
lowers its head, and runs off with the quickness of thought.

The young of this species are at first of a black colour, like that of
_Rallus crepitans_ and _R. elegans_; but, like those of the latter,
attain the rufous hue of the parent birds before the commencement of
winter, although they increase in size and improve in the depth of
their tints probably for several years.

     RALLUS VIRGINIANUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 263.—_Ch.
     Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 334.

     RALLUS AQUATICUS, var. _Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 755.

     VIRGINIAN RAIL, RALLUS VIRGINIANUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
     vol. vii. p. 109. pl. 62. fig. 2.

     LESSER CLAPPER RAIL, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 205.

Adult Male. Plate CCV. Fig. 1.

Bill longer than the head, slender, compressed, slightly curved, deep
at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly curved, the
ridge flattish at the base, and extending a little on the forehead,
convex and narrow towards the end; a deep groove runs on either side
parallel to the ridge for two-thirds of the whole length; the edges
inflected, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils lateral,
linear, direct, open and pervious. Lower mandible with the angle
very long, extremely narrow, the sides erect, slightly convex, the
edges inflected, the tip narrowed, the dorsal and marginal outlines
slightly arched.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long. Body slender,
much compressed. Feet rather long; tibia bare a considerable way above
the joint; tarsus of ordinary length, compressed, anteriorly covered
with broad scutella, posteriorly with smaller, and on the sides
reticulated. Hind toe very small and slender, middle toe longest,
fourth considerably shorter, and but little longer than the second;
toes free, scutellate above, compressed, granulate beneath. Claws of
moderate length, arched, slender, much compressed, acute, flat and
marginate beneath.

Plumage rather stiff, compact, slightly glossed on the back. Feathers
of the head and neck short and blended; of the forehead with the shaft
enlarged and extended beyond the tip. Wings very short and broad;
alula large; primaries curved, broad, tapering, but obtuse, third
longest, second very little shorter, first and sixth about equal;
secondaries broad and rounded. Tail extremely short, much rounded,
of twelve feeble rounded feathers; the upper and lower tail-coverts
nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Bill dark brown, the lower mandible and edges of upper yellowish-brown.
Iris bright red. Feet yellowish-brown, tinged with olive; claws more
dusky. The general colour of the upper parts is deep brownish-black,
with streaks of light olive-brown; sides of the head dull bluish-grey,
loral space of a deeper tint; a brownish-orange line over the eye.
Alula, primary quills, and tail blackish-brown; secondary quills
like the back, but edged with greenish-brown, smaller coverts
dark chestnut. Throat reddish-white; fore neck and breast bright
orange-brown, approaching to yellowish-red; sides, abdomen, and lower
wing-coverts barred with brownish-black and white, the bands of the
latter narrower; tibial feathers dusky anteriorly, light reddish
behind. Lower tail-coverts each with a central brownish-black spot,
the edges white, the tips pale reddish.

Length to end of tail 10-1/2 inches, to end of claws 13, extent of
wings 14-1/4; bill 1-7/12; tarsus 1-5/12, middle toe and claw 1-9/12;
wing from flexure 4-1/2, tail 1-10/12.

Adult Female. Plate CCV. Fig. 2.

The Female is considerably smaller than the male, but resembles it
in colouring, only the dark tints of the upper parts are lighter, the
chestnut of the wings paler, and the lower parts of a less bright red.

Length 9-1/4.

Young bird fledged. Plate CCV. Fig. 3.

When fully fledged the young does not differ materially in colour
from the old, the tints being merely somewhat duller.

In colouring this species is so nearly allied to _R. elegans_, that
the description of the one might pass very well for that of the other;
the principal difference being that the sides of the head are grey
in the former, and dusky in the latter. Of course, the difference
in size and habits is sufficient to prevent their being confounded
together.

THE AMERICAN SUN PERCH.

Few of our smaller fresh-water fishes excel either in beauty or in
delicacy and flavour the species which I have chosen as the subject of
this article, and few afford more pleasure to young fishers. Although
it occurs in all our streams, whether rapid or gentle, small or large,
in the mill-dam overshadowed by tall forest-trees, or in the open
lake margined with reeds, you must never expect to find it in impure
waters. Let the place be deep or shallow, broad or narrow, the water
must be clear enough to allow the sun’s rays to fall unimpaired on
the rich coat of mail that covers the body of the Sun-fish. Look at
him as he poises himself under the lee of the protecting rock beneath
our feet! See how steadily he maintains his position, and yet how many
rapid motions of his fins are necessary to preserve it! Now another
is by his side, glowing with equal beauty, and poising itself by
equally easy and graceful movements. The sun is shining, and under
the lee of every stone and sunk log, some of the little creatures
are rising to the surface, to enjoy the bright blaze, which enhances
all their beauty. The golden hues of some parts of the body blend
with the green of the emerald, while the coral tints of the lower
parts and the red of its sparkling eye, render our little favourite
a perfect gem of the waters.

The rushing stream boils and gurgles as it forces its way over the
obstacles presented by its bed, the craggy points, large stones, and
logs that are strewn along the bottom. Every one of these proves a
place of rest, safety and observation to the little things, whose eyes
are ever anxiously watching their favourite prey as it passes. There
an unfortunate moth, swept along by the current, labours in vain to
extricate itself from the treacherous element; its body, indeed, at
intervals, rises a little above the surface, but its broad wings,
now wet and heavy, bear it down again to the water. The Sun-fish has
marked it, and as it passes his retreat, he darts towards it, with
twenty of his fellows, all eager to seize the prize. The swiftest
swallows it in a moment, and all immediately return to their lurking
places, where they fancy themselves secure. But, alas, the Sun-fish is
no more without enemies than the moth, or any other living creature.
So has Nature determined, evidently to promote prudence and industry,
without which none can reap the full advantage of life.

On the top of yon miller’s dam stands boldly erect the ardent fisher.
Up to the knees, and regardless of the danger of his situation, he
prepares his apparatus of destruction. A keen hook attached to his
grass-line is now hid within the body of a worm or grasshopper. With
a knowing eye he marks one after another every surge of the water
below. Observing the top of a rock scarcely covered, he sends his
hook towards it with gentleness and certainty; the bait now floats
and anon sinks; his reel slowly lengthens the line, which is suddenly
tightened, and he feels that a fish is secured. Now whirls the reel
again, thrice has the fish tried its utmost strength and speed, but,
soon panting and exhausted, it is seen floating for a moment on the
surface. Nothing now is required but to bring it to hand, which done,
the angler baits anew, and sends forth the treacherous morsel. For an
hour or more he continues the agreeable occupation, drawing from the
stream a fish at every short interval. To the willow-twig fastened
to his waist, a hundred “sunnies” are already attached. Suddenly the
sky is overcast, and the crafty fisher, although aware that, with
a different hook and bait, he might soon procure a fine eel or two,
carefully wades to the shore, and homeward leisurely plods his way.

In this manner are the sun-fishes caught by the regular or “scientific”
anglers, and a beautiful sight it is to see the ease and grace with
which they allure the objects of their desire, whether in the open
turbulence of the waters, or under the low boughs of the overhanging
trees, where, in some deep hole, a swarm of the little creatures
may be playing in fancied security. Rarely does his tackle become
entangled, whilst, with incomparable dexterity, he draws one after
another from the waters.

Thousands of individuals, however, there are, who, less curious in
their mode of fishing, often procure as many sunnies without allowing
them to play for a moment. Look at these boys! One stands on the shore,
while the others are on fallen trees that project over the stream.
Their rods, as you perceive, are merely shoots of the hazel or hickory,
their lines are simply twine, and their hooks none of the finest. One
has a calabash filled with worms and grubs of many sorts, kept alive
in damp earth, and another is supplied with a bottle containing half
a gross of live “hoppers;” the third has no bait at all, but borrows
from his nearest neighbour. Well, there they are, “three merry boys,”
whirling their rods in the air to unrol their lines, on one of which,
you observe, a cork is fastened, while on another is a bit of light
wood, and on the third a grain or two of large shot, to draw it at
once to a certain depth. Now their hooks are baited, and all are
ready. Each casts his line as he thinks best, after he has probed the
depth of the stream with his rod, to enable him to place his buoy at
the proper point. Bob, bob, goes the cork; down it moves; the bit
of wood disappears; the leaded line tightens; in a moment up swing
the sunnies, which, getting unhooked, are projected far among the
grass, where they struggle in vain, until death ends their efforts.
The hooks are now baited anew, and dropped into the water. The fish
is abundant, the weather propitious and delightful, for it is now
October, and so greedy have the sunnies become of grasshoppers and
grubs, that dozens at once dash at the same bait. The lads, believe
me, have now rare sport, and in an hour scarcely a fish remains in
the hole. The happy children have caught perhaps some hundreds of
delicious “pan-fish,” to feed their parents, and delight their little
sisters. Surely their pleasure is fully as great as that experienced
by the scientific angler.

I have known instances when the waters of a dam having been let out,
for some reason better known to the miller than to myself, all the
sun-fish have betaken themselves to one or two deep holes, as if to
avoid being carried away from their favourite abode. There I have seen
them in such multitudes that one could catch as many as he pleased
with a pinhook, fastened to any sort of line, and baited with any
sort of worm or insect, or even with a piece of a newly caught fish.
Yet, and I am not able to account for it, all of a sudden, without
apparent cause, they would cease to take, and no allurement whatever
could entice them or the other fishes in the pool to seize the hook.

During high freshets, this species of perch seldom bites at any thing,
but you may procure them with a cast-net or a seine, provided you are
well acquainted with the localities. On the contrary, when the waters
are low and clear, every secluded hole, every eddy under the lee of
a rock, every place sheltered by a raft of timber, will afford you
amusement. In some parts of the Southern States, the Negroes procure
these fishes late in the autumn in shallow ponds or bayous, by wading
through the water with caution, and placing at every few steps a
wicker apparatus, not unlike a small barrel, open at both ends. The
moment the fishes find themselves confined within the lower part of
this, which is pressed to the bottom of the stream, their skippings
announce their capture, and the fisher secures his booty.

This species, the _Labrus auritus_ of Linnæus, the _Pomotis vulgaris_
of Cuvier, seldom exceeds five or six inches in length, but is rather
deep in proportion. The usual size is from four to five inches, with
a depth of from two to two and a half. They are not bony, and at
all seasons afford delicate eating. Having observed a considerable
change in their colour in different parts of the United States; and
in different streams, ponds, or lakes, I was led to think that this
curious effect might be produced by the difference of colour in the
water. Thus, the Sun-fish caught in the deep waters of Green River,
in Kentucky, exhibit a depth of olive-brown quite different from the
general tint of those caught in the colourless waters of the Ohio
or Schuylkill; those of the reddish-coloured waters of the Bayous
of the Louisiana swamps, look as if covered with a coppery tarnish;
and, lastly, those met with in streams that glide beneath cedars or
other firs, have a pale and sallow complexion.

The Sun Perch, wherever found, seems to give a decided preference to
sandy, gravelly, or rocky beds of streams, avoiding those of which
the bottom is muddy. At the period of depositing their eggs, this
preference is still more apparent. The little creature is then seen
swimming rapidly over shallows, the bed of which is mostly formed of
fine gravel, when after a while it is observed to poise itself and
gradually sink to the bottom, where with its fin it pushes aside the
sand to the extent of eight or ten inches, thus forming a circular
cavity. In a few days a little ridge is thus raised around, and in
the cleared area the roe is deposited. By wading carefully over the
extent of the place, a person may count forty, fifty, or more of these
beds, some within a few feet of each other, and some several yards
apart. Instead of abandoning its spawn, as others of the family are
wont to do, this little fish keeps guard over it with all the care
of a sitting bird. You observe it poised over the bed, watching the
objects around. Should the rotten leaf of a tree, a piece of wood, or
any other substance, happen to be rolled over the border of the bed,
the Sun-fish carefully removes it, holding the obnoxious matter in its
mouth, and dropping it over the margin. Having many times witnessed
this act of prudence and cleanliness in the little sunny, and observed
that at this period it will not seize on any kind of bait, I took
it into my head one fair afternoon to make a few experiments for the
purpose of judging how far its instinct or reason might induce it to
act when disturbed or harassed.

Provided with a fine fishing-line, and such insects as I knew were
relished by this fish, I reached a sand-bar covered by about one foot
of water, where I had previously seen many deposits. Approaching the
nearest to the shore with great care, I baited my hook with a living
ground-worm, the greater part of which was left at liberty to writhe
as it pleased, and throwing the line up the stream, managed it so
that at last it passed over the border of the nest, when I allowed it
to remain on the bottom. The fish, I perceived, had marked me, and
as the worm intruded on its premises, he swam to the farther side,
there poised himself for a few moments, then approached the worm,
and carried it in his mouth over the side next to me, with a care
and gentleness so very remarkable as to afford me much surprise. I
repeated the experiment six or seven times, and always with the same
result. Then changing the bait, I employed a young grasshopper, which
I floated into the egg-bed. The insect was removed, as the worm had
been, and two attempts to hook the fish proved unsuccessful. I now
threw my line with the hook bare, and managed as before. The sunny
appeared quite alarmed. It swam to one side, then to another, in
rapid succession, and seemed to entertain a fear that the removal of
the suspicious object might prove extremely dangerous to it. Yet it
gradually approached the hook, took it delicately up, and the next
instant dropped it over the edge of the bed!

Reader, if you are one who, like me, have studied Nature with a
desire to improve your mental faculties, and contemplate the wonderful
phenomena that present themselves to the view at every step we take
in her wide domain, you would have been struck, had you witnessed the
actions of this little fish, as I was, with admiration of the Being
who gave such instincts to so humble an object. I gazed in amazement
on the little creature, and wondered that nature had endowed it
with such feelings and powers. The irrepressible desire of acquiring
knowledge prompted me to continue the experiment; but with whatever
dexterity I could in those days hook a fish, all my efforts proved
abortive, not with this individual only, but with many others, which
I subjected to the same trials.

Satisfied that at this period the Sun-fish was more than a match for
me, I rolled up my line, and with the rod gave a rap on the water as
nearly over the fish as I could. The sunny darted off to a distance
of several yards, poised itself steadily, and as soon as my rod was
raised from the water, returned to its station. The effect of the
blow on the water was now apparent, for I perceived that the fish was
busily employed in smoothing the bed; but here ended my experiments
on the Sun-fish.

THE WOOD DUCK.

_ANAS SPONSA_, LINN.

PLATE CCVI. MALES, FEMALES, AND NEST.

I have always experienced a peculiar pleasure while endeavouring to
study the habits of this most beautiful bird in its favourite places
of resort. Never on such occasions have I been without numberless
companions, who, although most of them were insensible of my presence,
have afforded me hours of the never-failing delight resulting from
the contemplation of their character. Methinks I am now seated by
the trunk of a gigantic sycamore, whose bleached branches stretch up
towards the heavens, as if with a desire to overlook the dense woods
spread all around. A dark-watered bayou winds tortuously beneath the
maples that margin its muddy shores, a deep thicket of canes spreading
along its side. The mysterious silence is scarcely broken by the hum
of myriads of insects. The blood-sucking musquito essays to alight
on my hand, and I willingly allow him to draw his fill, that I may
observe how dexterously he pierces my skin with his delicate proboscis,
and pumps the red fluid into his body, which is quickly filled, when
with difficulty he extends his tiny wings and flies off, never to
return. Over the withered leaves many a tick is seen scrambling, as
if anxious to elude the searching eye of that beautiful lizard. A
squirrel spread flat against a tree, with its head directed downwards,
is watching me; the warblers, too, are peeping from among the twigs.
On the water, the large bull-frogs are endeavouring to obtain a peep
of the sun; suddenly there emerges the head of an otter, with a fish
in its jaws, and in an instant my faithful dog plunges after him, but
is speedily recalled. At this moment, when my heart is filled with
delight, the rustling of wings comes sweeping through the woods, and
anon there shoots overhead a flock of Wood Ducks. Once, twice, three
times, have they rapidly swept over the stream, and now, having failed
to discover any object of alarm, they all alight on its bosom, and
sound a note of invitation to others yet distant.

Scenes like these I have enjoyed a thousand times, yet regret that I
have not enjoyed them oftener, and made better use of the opportunities
which I have had of examining the many interesting objects that
attracted my notice. And now, let me endeavour to describe the habits
of the Wood Duck, in so far as I have been able to apprehend them.

This beautiful species ranges over the whole extent of the United
States, and I have seen it in all parts from Louisiana to the confines
of Maine, and from the vicinity of our Atlantic coasts as far inland
as my travels have extended. It also occurs sparingly during the
breeding-season in Nova Scotia; but farther north I did not observe it.
Everywhere in this immense tract I have found it an almost constant
resident, for some spend the winter even in Massachusetts, and far
up the warm spring waters of brooks on the Missouri. It confines
itself, however, entirely to fresh water, preferring at all times
the secluded retreats of the ponds, bayous, or creeks, that occur
so profusely in our woods. Well acquainted with man, they carefully
avoid him, unless now and then during the breeding-season, when, if
a convenient spot is found by them in which to deposit their eggs
and raise their young, they will even locate themselves about the
miller’s dam.

The flight of this species is remarkable for its speed, and the ease
and elegance with which it is performed. The Wood Duck passes through
the woods and even amongst the branches of trees, with as much facility
as the Passenger Pigeon; and while removing from some secluded haunt
to its breeding-grounds, at the approach of night, it shoots over the
trees like a meteor, scarcely emitting any sound from its wings. In
the lower parts of Louisiana and Kentucky, where they abound, these
regular excursions are performed by flocks of from thirty to fifty
or more individuals. In several instances I have taken perhaps undue
advantage of their movements to shoot them on the wing, by placing
myself between their two different spots of resort, and keeping myself
concealed. In this manner I have obtained a number in the course of
an hour of twilight; and I have known some keen sportsmen kill as
many as thirty or forty in a single evening. This sport is best in
the latter part of autumn, after the old males have joined the flocks
of young led by the females. Several gunners may then obtain equal
success by placing themselves at regular distances in the line of
flight, when the birds having in a manner to run the gauntlet, more
than half of a flock have been brought down in the course of their
transit. While passing through the air on such occasions, the birds
are never heard to emit a single note.

The Wood Duck breeds in the Middle States about the beginning of
April, in Massachusetts a month later, and in Nova Scotia or on our
northern lakes, seldom before the first days of June. In Louisiana
and Kentucky, where I have had better opportunities of studying their
habits in this respect, they generally pair about the 1st of March,
sometimes a fortnight earlier. I never knew one of these birds to form
a nest on the ground, or on the branches of a tree. They appear at
all times to prefer the hollow broken portion of some large branch,
the hole of our largest Woodpecker (_Picus principalis_), or the
deserted retreat of the fox-squirrel; and I have frequently been
surprised to see them go in and out of a hole of any one of these,
when their bodies while on wing seemed to be nearly half as large
again as the aperture within which they had deposited their eggs. Once
only I found a nest (with ten eggs) in the fissure of a rock on the
Kentucky River a few miles below Frankfort. Generally, however, the
holes to which they betake themselves are either over deep swamps,
above cane brakes, or broken branches of high sycamores, seldom more
than forty or fifty feet from the water. They are much attached to
their breeding-places, and for three successive years I found a pair
near Henderson, in Kentucky, with eggs in the beginning of April, in
the abandoned nest of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker. The eggs, which are
from six to fifteen, according to the age of the bird, are placed on
dry plants, feathers, and a scanty portion of down, which I believe
is mostly plucked from the breast of the female. They are perfectly
smooth, nearly elliptical, of a light colour between buff and pale
green, two inches in length by one and a half in diameter; the shell
is about equal in firmness to that of the Mallard’s egg, and quite
smooth.

No sooner has the female completed her set of eggs than she is
abandoned by her mate, who now joins others, which form themselves
into considerable flocks, and thus remain apart until the young are
able to fly, when old and young of both sexes come together, and so
remain until the commencement of the next breeding season. In all the
nests which I have examined, I have been rather surprised to find a
quantity of feathers belonging to birds of other species, even those
of the domestic fowl, and particularly of the wild goose and wild
turkey. On coming upon a nest with eggs when the bird was absent in
search of food, I have always found the eggs covered over with feathers
and down, although quite out of sight, in the depth of a woodpecker’s
or squirrel’s hole. On the contrary, when the nest was placed in the
broken branch of a tree, it could easily be observed from the ground,
on account of the feathers, dead sticks, and withered grasses about
it. If the nest is placed immediately over the water, the young, the
moment they are hatched, scramble to the mouth of the hole, launch
into the air with their little wings and feet spread out, and drop
into their favourite element; but whenever their birth-place is at
some distance from it, the mother carries them to it one by one in
her bill, holding them so as not to injure their yet tender frame.
On several occasions, however, when the hole was thirty, forty, or
more yards from a bayou or other piece of water, I observed that the
mother suffered the young to fall on the grasses and dried leaves
beneath the tree, and afterwards led them directly to the nearest
edge of the next pool or creek. At this early age, the young answer to
their parents’ call with a mellow _pee, pee, pee_, often and rapidly
repeated. The call of the mother at such times is low, soft, and
prolonged, resembling the syllables _pe-ēē, pe-ēē_. The watch-note
of the male, which resembles _hoe-ēēk_, is never uttered by the
female; indeed, the male himself seldom uses it unless alarmed by
some uncommon sound or the sight of a distant enemy, or when intent
on calling passing birds of his own species.

The young are carefully led along the shallow and grassy shores, and
taught to obtain their food, which at this early period consists of
small aquatic insects, flies, musquitoes, and seeds. As they grow up,
you now and then see the whole flock run as it were along the surface
of the sluggish stream in chase of a dragon-fly, or to pick up a
grasshopper or locust that has accidentally dropped upon it. They are
excellent divers, and when frightened instantly disappear, disperse
below the surface, and make for the nearest shore, on attaining which
they run for the woods, squat in any convenient place, and thus elude
pursuit. I used two modes of procuring them alive on such occasions.
One was with a bag net, such as is employed in catching our little
partridge, and which I placed half sunk in the water, driving the
birds slowly, first within the wings, and finally into the bag. In
this manner I have caught young and old birds of this species in
considerable numbers. The other method I accidentally discovered while
on a shooting excursion, accompanied by an excellent pointer dog. I
observed that the sight of this faithful animal always immediately
frightened the young ducks to the shores, the old one taking to her
wings as soon as she conceived her brood to be safe. But the next
instant Juno would dash across the bayou or pond, reach the opposite
bank, and immediately follow on their track. In a few moments she
would return with a duckling held between her _lips_, when I would
take it from her unhurt.

While residing at Henderson, I thought of taming a number of Wood
Ducks. In the course of a few days Juno procured for me, in the
manner above described, as many as I had a mind for, and they were
conveyed home in a bag. A dozen or more were placed in empty flour
barrels, and covered over for some hours, with the view of taming
them the sooner. Several of these barrels were placed in the yard,
but whenever I went and raised their lids, I found all the little
ones hooked by their sharp claws to the very edge of their prisons,
and, the instant that room was granted, they would tumble over and
run off in all directions. I afterwards frequently saw these young
birds rise from the bottom to the brim of a cask, by moving a few
inches at a time up the side, and fixing foot after foot by means
of their diminutive hooked claws, which, in passing over my hand, I
found to have points almost as fine as those of a needle. They fed
freely on corn meal soaked in water, and as they grew, collected flies
with great expertness. When they were half-grown I gave them great
numbers of our common locusts yet unable to fly, which were gathered
by boys from the trunks of trees and the “iron weeds,” a species of
wild hemp very abundant in that portion of the country. These I would
throw to them on the water of the artificial pond which I had in my
garden, when the eagerness with which they would scramble and fight
for them always afforded me great amusement. They grew up apace,
when I pinioned them all, and they subsequently bred in my grounds
in boxes which I had placed conveniently over the water, with a board
or sticks leading to them, and an abundant supply of proper materials
for a nest placed in them.

Few birds are more interesting to observe during the love season
than Wood Ducks. The great beauty and neatness of their apparel, and
the grace of their motions, always afford pleasure to the observer;
and, as I have had abundant opportunities of studying their habits
at that period, I am enabled to present you with a full account of
their proceedings.

When March has again returned, and the Dogwood expands its pure
blossoms to the sun, the Cranes soar away on their broad wings, bidding
our country adieu for a season, flocks of water-fowls are pursuing
their early migrations, the frogs issue from their muddy beds to pipe
a few notes of languid joy, the Swallow has just arrived, and the
Bluebird has returned to his box. The Wood Duck almost alone remains
on the pool, as if to afford us an opportunity of studying the habits
of its tribe. Here they are, a whole flock of beautiful birds, the
males chasing their rivals, the females coquetting with their chosen
beaux. Observe that fine drake! how gracefully he raises his head
and curves his neck! As he bows before the object of his love, he
raises for a moment his silken crest. His throat is swelled, and from
it there issues a guttural sound, which to his beloved is as sweet
as the song of the Wood Thrush to its gentle mate. The female, as
if not unwilling to manifest the desire to please which she really
feels, swims close by his side, now and then caresses him by touching
his feathers with her bill, and shews displeasure towards any other
of her sex that may come near. Soon the happy pair separate from
the rest, repeat every now and then their caresses, and at length,
having sealed the conjugal compact, fly off to the woods to search
for a large woodpecker’s hole. Occasionally the males fight with each
other, but their combats are not of long duration, nor is the field
ever stained with blood, the loss of a few feathers or a sharp tug
of the head being generally enough to decide the contest. Although
the Wood Ducks always form their nests in the hollow of a tree, their
caresses are performed exclusively on the water, to which they resort
for the purpose, even when their loves have been first proved far
above the ground on a branch of some tall sycamore. While the female
is depositing her eggs, the male is seen to fly swiftly past the hole
in which she is hidden, erecting his crest, and sending forth his
love-notes, to which she never fails to respond.

On the ground the Wood Duck runs nimbly and with more grace than
most other birds of its tribe. On reaching the shore of a pond or
stream, it immediately shakes its tail sidewise, looks around, and
proceeds in search of food. It moves on the larger branches of trees
with the same apparent ease; and, while looking at thirty or forty
of these birds perched on a single sycamore on the bank of a secluded
bayou, I have conceived the sight as pleasing as any that I have ever
enjoyed. They always reminded me of the Muscovy Duck, of which they
look as if a highly finished and flattering miniature. They frequently
prefer walking on an inclined log or the fallen trunk of a tree, one
end of which lies in the water, while the other rests on the steep
bank, to betaking themselves to flight at the sight of an approaching
enemy. In this manner I have seen a whole flock walk from the water
into the woods, as a steamer was approaching them in the eddies of
the Ohio or Mississippi. They swim and dive well, when wounded and
closely pursued, often stopping at the edge of the water with nothing
above it but the bill, but at other times running to a considerable
distance into the woods, or hiding in a cane-brake beside a log. In
such places I have often found them, having been led to their place of
concealment by my dog. When frightened, they rise by a single spring
from the water, and are as apt to make directly for the woods as to
follow the stream. When they discover an enemy while under the covert
of shrubs or other plants on a pond, instead of taking to wing, they
swim off in silence among the thickest weeds, so as generally to elude
your search, by landing and running over a narrow piece of ground to
another pond. In autumn, a whole covey may often be seen standing or
sitting on a floating log, pluming and cleaning themselves for hours.
On such occasions the knowing sportsman commits great havock among
them, killing half a dozen or more at a shot.

The food of the Wood Duck, or as it is called in the Western and
Southern States, the Summer Duck, consists of acorns, beech-nuts,
grapes, and berries of various sorts, for which they _half-dive_,
in the manner of the Mallard for example, or search under the trees
on the shores and in the woods, turning over the fallen leaves with
dexterity. In the Carolinas, they resort under night to the rice
fields, as soon as the grain becomes milky. They also devour insects,
snails, tadpoles, and small water lizards, swallowing at the same
time a quantity of sand or gravel to aid the trituration of their food.

The best season in which to procure these birds for the table is from
the beginning of September until the first frost, their flesh being
then tender, juicy, and in my opinion excellent. They are easily
caught in figure-of-four traps. I know a person now residing in South
Carolina, who has caught several hundreds in the course of a week,
bringing them home in bags across his horse’s saddle, and afterwards
feeding them in coops on Indian corn. In that State, they are bought
in the markets for thirty or forty cents the pair. At Boston, where
I found them rather abundant during winter, they bring nearly double
that price; but in Ohio or Kentucky twenty-five cents are considered
an equivalent. Their feathers are as good as those of any other
species; and I feel well assured that, with a few years of care, the
Wood Duck might be perfectly domesticated, when it could not fail to
be as valuable as it is beautiful.

Their sense of hearing is exceedingly acute, and by means of it they
often save themselves from their wily enemies the minx, the polecat,
and the racoon. The vile snake that creeps into their nest and destroys
their eggs, is their most pernicious enemy on land. The young, when on
the water, have to guard against the snapping turtle, the gar-fish,
and the eel, and in the Southern Districts, against the lashing tail
and the tremendous jaws of the alligator.

Those which breed in Maine, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, move
southward as soon as the frosts commence, and none are known to spend
the winter so far north. I have been much surprised to find WILSON
speaking of the Wood Ducks as a species of which more than five or
six individuals are seldom seen together. A would-be naturalist in
America, who has had better opportunities of knowing its habits than
the admired author of the “American Ornithology,” repeats the same
error, and, I am told, believes that all his statements are considered
true. For my own part, I assure you, I have seen hundreds in a single
flock, and have known fifteen to be killed by a single shot. They,
however, raise only one brood in the season, unless their eggs or
young have been destroyed. Should this happen, the female soon finds
means of recalling her mate from the flock which he has joined.

On having recourse to a journal written by me at Henderson nearly
twenty years ago, I find it stated that the attachment of a male to
a female lasts only during one breeding season; and that the males
provide themselves with mates in succession, the strongest taking
the first choice, and the weakest being content with what remains.
The young birds which I raised, never failed to make directly for
the Ohio, whenever they escaped from the grounds, although they
never had been there before. The only other circumstances which I
have to mention are, that when entering the hole in which its nest
is, the bird dives as it were into it at once, and does not alight
first against the tree; that I have never witnessed an instance of
its taking possession, by force, of a woodpecker’s hole; and lastly,
that during winter they allow ducks of different species to associate
with them.

     ANAS SPONSA, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 207.—_Lath._
     Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 871.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of
     Birds of the United States, p. 385.

     SUMMER DUCK, OR WOOD DUCK, ANAS SPONSA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
     vol. viii. p. 97. pl. 78. fig. 3.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol.
     ii. p. 394.

     DENDRONESSA SPONSA, _Richards. and Swains._ Fauna Bor.
     Amer. part ii. p. 446.

Adult Male. Plate CCVI. Fig. 1, 3.

Bill shorter than the head, deeper than broad at the base, depressed
towards the end, slightly narrowed towards the middle of the unguis,
the frontal angles prolonged and pointed. Upper mandible with the
dorsal line at first sloping, then concave, along the unguis convex,
the ridge broad and flat at the base, then broadly convex, the sides
concave and perpendicular at the base, convex and sloping towards
the end, edges soft, with about twenty-two internal lamellæ, unguis
broadly elliptical, curved, rounded. Nostrils subbasal, lateral,
rather small, oval, pervious. Lower mandible flattish, with the angle
very long and rather narrow, the dorsal line very short, convex, the
sides convex, the edges soft and rounded, lamellate above.

Head of moderate size, neck rather long and slender, body full and
depressed, wings rather small. Feet very short, strong, placed rather
far back; tarsus very short, considerably compressed, at its lower
part anteriorly with two series of scutella, the rest covered with
reticulated angular scales. Toes scutellate above; first very small,
free, with a narrow membrane beneath, third longest, fourth a little
shorter; claws small, curved, compressed, acute, the hind one smaller
and more curved, that of the third toe with an inner sharp edge.

Plumage dense, soft, blended, generally glossed. Feathers of the middle
of the head and upper part of hind neck, very narrow, elongated, and
incurved, of the rest of the head and upper part of neck very short,
of the back and lower parts in general broad and rounded, excepting
on the shoulders before the wings, where they are enlarged, very
broad and abrupt. Wings of moderate length, narrow, acute; primaries
curved, strong, tapering, first and second longest; secondaries
broad, rounded. Tail of moderate length, rather broad, much rounded,
of sixteen rounded feathers.

Upper mandible bright red at the base, pale yellow on the sides, the
intermediate space along the ridge, and the unguis, black, as in the
lower mandible and its membrane. Iris and edges of eyelids bright red.
Feet dull orange, claws black. Upper part of head, and space between
the bill and eye deep green, and highly glossed; below the latter
space a patch of dark purple, and a larger one of the same colour,
but lighter, behind the eye; sides of the neck, its hind part under
the crest, and the middle all round very dark purple. A narrow line
along the base of the upper mandible and over the eye, meeting on
the occiput, pure white, as are some of the feathers of the crest;
another from behind the eye, meeting below the occiput, and including
several of the lower elongated feathers. Throat, for more than three
inches, pure white, with a process on each side a little beyond the
eye, and another nearly halfway down the neck. Sides of the neck,
and its lower part anteriorly reddish-purple, each feather on the
latter with a triangular white tip. Middle of the neck behind, back
and rump, very dark reddish-brown, the latter deeper, and tinged
with green; upper tail-coverts and tail greenish-black; some of the
lateral tail-coverts dull reddish-purple, a few on either side with
their central filaments light red. Smaller wing-coverts, alula and
primaries dull greyish-brown; most of the latter with part of their
outer web greyish-white, and their inner towards the end darker and
glossed with green. Secondary quills tipped with white, the outer
webs green, with purple reflections, those of the inner secondaries
and scapulars velvet-black, their inner webs partially glossed and
changing to green. The broad feathers anterior to the wings are white,
terminated with black; breast and abdomen greyish-white; feathers
under the wings yellowish-grey, minutely undulated with black and
white bars; lower wing-coverts and axillar feathers white, barred
with greyish-brown; lower tail-coverts dull greyish-brown.

Length 20-1/2 inches, to end of claws 17-1/2, extent of wings 28; bill
1-5/12; tarsus 1-5/12, middle toe and claw 2-3/12; wing from flexure 9,
tail 4-1/4.

Adult Female. Plate CCVI. Figs. 2, 4.

The female is considerably smaller, and differs greatly from the
male in colouring. The feathers of the head are not elongated, but
those of the upper part of the neck behind are slightly so. In other
respects the plumage presents nothing very remarkable, and is similar
to that of the male, only the feathers anterior to the wing, the upper
hypochondrial, the inner secondaries and the rump-feathers are not
enlarged, as in him. Bill blackish-brown; feet dusky, tinged with
yellow. Upper part of head dusky, glossed with green, sides of the
head and neck, with the hind part of the latter, light brownish-grey;
throat white, but without the lateral processes of the male. Fore
part of neck below and sides light yellowish-brown, mottled with dark
greyish-brown, as are the sides under the wings; breast and abdomen
white, the former spotted with brown. Hind neck, back, and rump, dark
brown, glossed with green and purple. Wings as in the male, but the
speculum less, and the secondaries externally faint reddish-purple,
the velvet black of the male diminished to a few narrow markings. Tail
dark brown, glossed with green; lower tail-coverts pale greyish-brown,
mottled with white; lower wing-coverts as in the male.

Length 19-1/2 inches.

The tree represented in the plate is the _Platanus occidentalis_,
which in different parts of the United States is known by the names
of Buttonwood, Sycamore, Plane-tree, and Water Beech, and in Canada
by that of Cotton-tree. It is one of our largest trees, and on the
banks of our great western and southern rivers, often attains a
diameter of eight or ten feet. Although naturally inclined to prefer
the vicinity of water, it grows in almost every kind of situation,
and thrives even in the streets of several of our eastern cities,
such as Philadelphia and New York.

THE BOOBY GANNET.

_SULA FUSCA_, BRISS.

PLATE CCVII. MALE.

As the Marion was nearing the curious islets of the Tortugas, one
of the birds that more particularly attracted my notice was of this
species. The nearer we approached the land, the more numerous did they
become, and I felt delighted with the hope that ere many days should
elapse, I should have an opportunity of studying their habits. As night
drew her sombre curtain over the face of nature, some of these birds
alighted on the top-yard of our bark, and I observed ever afterwards
that they manifested a propensity to roost at as great a height as
possible above the surrounding objects, making choice of the tops
of bushes, or even upright poles, and disputing with each other the
privilege. The first that was shot at, was approached with considerable
difficulty: it had alighted on the prong of a tree which had floated
and been fastened to the bottom of a rocky shallow at some distance
from shore; the water was about four feet deep and quite rough; sharks
we well knew were abundant around us; but the desire to procure the
bird was too strong to be overcome by such obstacles. In an instant,
the pilot and myself were over the sides of the boat, and onward we
proceeded with our guns cocked and ready. The yawl was well manned,
and its crew awaiting the result. After we had struggled through the
turbulent waters about a hundred yards, my companion raised his gun
and fired; but away flew the bird with a broken leg, and we saw no
more of it that day. Next day, however, at the same hour, the Booby
was seen perched on the same prong, where, after resting about three
hours, it made off to the open sea, doubtless in search of food.

About eight miles to the north-east of the Tortugas Lighthouse, lies a
small sand-bar a few acres in extent, called Booby Island, on account
of the number of birds of this species that resort to it during the
breeding-season, and to it we accordingly went. We found it not more
than a few feet above the surface of the water, but covered with
Boobies, which lay basking in the sunshine, and pluming themselves.
Our attempt to land on the island before the birds should fly off,
proved futile, for before we were within fifty yards of it, they
had all betaken themselves to flight, and were dispersing in various
directions. We landed, however, distributed ourselves in different
parts, and sent the boat to some distance, the pilot assuring us that
the birds would return. And so it happened. As they approached, we
laid ourselves as flat as possible in the sand, and although none
of them alighted, we attained our object, for in a couple of hours
we procured thirty individuals of both sexes and of different ages,
finding little difficulty in bringing them down as they flew over
us at a moderate height. The wounded birds that fell on the ground
made immediately for the water, moving with more ease than I had
expected from the accounts usually given of the awkward motions of
these birds on the land. Those which reached the water swam off with
great buoyancy, and with such rapidity, that it took much rowing to
secure some of them, while most of those that fell directly into the
sea with only a wing broken, escaped. The island was covered with
their dung, the odour of which extended to a considerable distance
leeward. In the evening of the same day we landed on another island,
named after the Noddy, and thickly covered with bushes and low trees,
to which thousands of that species of Tern resort for the purpose of
breeding. There also we found a great number of Boobies. They were
perched on the top-branches of the trees, on which they had nests,
and here again we obtained as many as we desired. They flew close
over our heads, eyeing us with dismay but in silence; indeed, not one
of these birds ever emitted a cry, except at the moment when they
rose from their perches or from the sand. Their note is harsh and
guttural, somewhat like that of a strangled pig, and resembling the
syllables _hork, hork_.

The nest of the Booby is placed on the top of a bush at a height
of from four to ten feet. It is large and flat, formed of a few dry
sticks, covered and matted with sea-weeds in great quantity. I have
no doubt that they return to the same nest many years in succession,
and repair it as occasion requires. In all the nests which I examined,
only one egg was found, and as most of the birds were sitting, and some
of the eggs had the chick nearly ready for exclusion, it is probable
that these birds raise only a single young one, like the Common Gannet
or Solan Goose. The egg is of a dull white colour, without spots,
and about the size of that of a common hen, but more elongated, being
2-3/8 inches in length, with a diameter of 1-3/4. In some nests they
were covered with filth from the parent bird, in the manner of the
Florida Cormorant. The young, which had an uncouth appearance, were
covered with down; the bill and feet of a deep livid blue or indigo
colour. On being touched, they emitted no cry, but turned away their
heads at every trial. A great quantity of fish lay beneath the trees
in a state of putrefaction, proving how abundantly the young birds
were supplied by their parents. Indeed, while we were on Noddy Island,
there was a constant succession of birds coming in from the sea with
food for their young, consisting chiefly of flying-fish and small
mullets, which they disgorged in a half macerated state into the open
throats of their offspring. Unfortunately the time afforded me on
that coast was not sufficient to enable me to trace the progress of
their growth. I observed, however, that none of the birds which were
still brown had nests, and that they roosted apart, particularly on
Booby Island, where also many barren ones usually resorted, to lie
on the sand and bask in the sun.

The flight of the Booby is graceful and extremely protracted. They pass
swiftly at a height of from twenty yards to a foot or two from the
surface, often following the troughs of the waves to a considerable
distance, their wings extended at right angles to the body; then,
without any apparent effort, raising themselves and allowing the
rolling waters to break beneath them, when they tack about, and
sweep along in a contrary direction in search of food, much in the
manner of the true Petrels. Now, if you follow an individual, you
see that it suddenly stops short, plunges headlong into the water,
pierces with its powerful beak and secures a fish, emerges again with
inconceivable ease, after a short interval rises on wing, performs
a few wide circlings, and makes off toward some shore. At this time
its flight is different, being performed by flappings for twenty
or thirty paces, with alternate sailings of more than double that
space. When overloaded with food, they alight on the water, where,
if undisturbed, they appear to remain for hours at a time, probably
until digestion has afforded them relief.

The range to which this species confines itself along our coast, seldom
extends beyond Cape Hatteras to the eastward, but they become more
and more numerous the farther south we proceed. They breed abundantly
on all such islands or keys as are adapted for the purpose, on the
southern and western coasts of the Floridas and in the Gulf of Mexico,
where I was told they breed on the sand-bars. Their power of wing
seems sufficient to enable them to brave the tempest, while during a
continuance of fair weather they venture to a great distance seaward,
and I have seen them fully 200 miles from land.

The expansibility of the gullet of this species enables it to swallow
fishes of considerable size, and on such occasions their mouth seems
to spread to an unusual width. In the throats of several individuals
that were shot as they were returning to their nests, I found mullets
measuring seven or eight inches, that must have weighed fully half a
pound. Their body beneath the skin, is covered with numerous air-cells,
which probably assist them in raising or lowering themselves while
on wing, and perhaps still more so when on the point of performing
the rapid plunge by which they secure their prey.

Their principal enemies during the breeding-season are the American
Crow and the Fish Crow, both of which destroy their eggs, and the
Turkey Buzzard, which devours their young while yet unfledged. They
breed during the month of May, but I have not been able to ascertain
if they raise more than one brood in the season. The adult birds chase
away those which are yet immature during the period of incubation.
It would seem that they take several years in attaining their perfect
state.

When procured alive, they feed freely, and may be kept any length of
time, provided they are supplied with fish. No other food, however,
could I tempt them to swallow, excepting slices of turtle, which
after all they did not seem to relish. In no instance did I observe
one drinking. Some authors have stated that the Frigate Pelican and
the Lestris force the Booby to disgorge its food that they may obtain
it; but this I have never witnessed. Like the Common Gannet, they
may be secured by fastening a fish to a soft plank, and sinking it a
few feet beneath the surface of the water, for if they perceive the
bait, which they are likely to do if they pass over it, they plunge
headlong upon it, and drive their bill into the wood.

When a Booby has alighted on the spar of a vessel, it is no easy
matter to catch it, unless it is much fatigued; but if exhausted and
asleep, an expert seaman may occasionally secure one. I was informed
that after the breeding-season, these birds roost on trees in company
with the Brown Pelican and a species of Tern, _Sterna stolida_, and
spend their hours of daily rest on the sand-banks. Our pilot, who, as
I have mentioned in my second volume, was a man of great observation,
assured me that while at Vera Cruz, he saw the fishermen there go to
sea, and return from considerable distances, simply by following the
course of the Boobies.

The bills and legs of those which I procured in the brown plumage, and
which were from one to two years of age, were dusky blue. These were
undergoing moult on the 14th of May. At a more advanced age, the parts
mentioned become paler, and when the bird has arrived at maturity,
are as represented in my plate. I observed no external difference
between the sexes in the adult birds. The stomach is a long dilatable
pouch, thin, and of a yellow colour. The body is muscular, and the
flesh, which is of a dark colour, tough, and having a disagreeable
smell, is scarcely fit for food.

I am unable to find a good reason for those who have chosen to call
these birds _boobies_. Authors, it is true, generally represent them
as extremely _stupid_; but to me the word is utterly inapplicable
to any bird with which I am acquainted. The Woodcock, too, is said
to be stupid, as are many other birds; but my opinion, founded on
pretty extensive observation, is, that it is only when birds of any
species are unacquainted with man, that they manifest that kind of
_ignorance_ or _innocence_ which he calls _stupidity_, and by which
they suffer themselves to be imposed upon. A little acquaintance
with him soon enables them to perceive enough of his character to
induce them to keep aloof. This I observed in the Booby Gannet, as
well as in the Noddy Tern, and in certain species of land birds of
which I have already spoken. After my first visit to Booby Island in
the Tortugas, the Gannets had already become very shy and wary, and
before the Marion sailed away from those peaceful retreats of the
wandering sea-birds, the _Boobies_ had become so knowing, that the
most expert of our party could not get within shot of them.

     PELECANUS SULA, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 218.—_Lath._
     Index Ornith. vol. ii. p. 892.

     SULA FUSCA, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United
     States, p. 408.

     BOOBY, SULA FUSCA, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 500.

Adult Male. Plate CCVII.

Bill longer than the head, opening beyond the eyes, straight,
elongated-conical, broader above than beneath at the base, compressed.
Upper mandible with the dorsal line convex at the base, then a little
concave, and towards the tip slightly arched, ridge very broad,
convex, separated by a seam on each side, from the sides, which are
nearly perpendicular, edges sharp, inflected, serrated, tip acute. No
external nostrils. Lower mandible prolonged at the base behind the
upper, its angle very long, wide at the base, with a bare membrane,
very narrow towards the end, dorsal line straight, ascending, sides
convex, tip very acute, edges serrated towards the end.

Head rather large; neck rather long and thick; body of moderate bulk,
rather elongated; wings long. Feet short, strong, placed rather far
behind; tibiæ concealed; tarsus very short, rounded before, sharp
behind, covered all round with reticular scales; toes all united
by membranes; first very short, being about half the length of the
second, third and fourth longest and nearly equal, but the claw
of the third is much longer than that of the fourth; claws small,
compressed, acute, curved, that of the third toe largest, depressed,
curved outwards, with a thin pectinated inner edge.

Plumage generally short, close, rather compact, the feathers small
and rounded; those on the head very small; loral and orbital spaces
bare, as is that in the angle of the lower mandible, and a short space
above the tibio-tarsal joint; wings long, acute, narrow; primaries
strong, narrow, tapering rapidly to a rounded point, first and second
longest and about equal, the rest rapidly graduated; secondaries
short, rather broad, narrowed towards the rounded point. Tail rather
long, cuneate, of twelve narrow, tapering feathers.

Bill and naked parts at its base bright yellow, pale flesh-coloured
towards the end; a dusky spot before the eye. Iris white. Tarsi,
toes, and their connecting webs, pale yellow, claws white. Head, neck
all round, upper parts in general, and lower surface of wings, dusky
brown, tinged with grey; the breast, abdomen, and lower tail-coverts,
pure white.

Length 31 inches, to end of claws 27, extent of wings 29-1/4; bill along
the back 3-11/12, along the edge 5; tarsus 1-8/12, middle toe and claw
3-1/2. Wing from flexure 16-1/2, tail 8-1/2. Weight 3 lb. 4-1/2 oz.

The Female resembles the male, but is smaller.

The Young, when fledged, are of a greyish-brown colour all over, the
breast and abdomen being merely a little lighter than the rest. The
bill and claws are dusky, the tarsi and toes with their membranes
dull yellow.

ESQUIMAUX CURLEW.

_NUMENIUS BOREALIS_, LATH.

PLATE CCVIII. MALE AND FEMALE.

I regret that I am unable to present a complete history of the
Esquimaux Curlew. It is true I might somewhat enlarge my account of
its habits, were I to borrow from others, but as I have resolved to
confine myself to the results of my own observation, unless in certain
cases, in which I always take care to give my authorities, I hope
you will be pleased with the little which I have to offer.

Previous to my voyage to Labrador, I had seen only a single bird of
this species, which was kindly given me by my learned friend WILLIAM
OAKES, Esq. of Ipswich, Massachusetts, who had procured it in his
immediate neighbourhood, where, as I have since ascertained, the
Esquimaux Curlew spends a few days in early autumn, while on its
way southward. During their short stay in that State, they are met
with on the high sandy hills near the sea-shore, where they feed on
the grasshoppers and on several kinds of berries. On this food they
become fat, so as to afford excellent eating, in consequence of which
they have probably acquired the name of “Dough Bird,” which they bear
in that district, but which is also applied to several other birds.
How this species manages to cross the whole extent of the United
States without being seen after leaving Massachusetts, is to me very
wonderful. On one occasion only have I ever had a glimpse of it. I
was in company with my learned and generous friend JOHN BACHMAN of
Charleston, on one of the islands on the coast of South Carolina,
whither we had gone with the view of watching the Long-billed Curlews
(_Numenius longirostris_). It was at the dawn of a fine day, when
a dense flock of the northern Curlews passed to the southward, near
enough to enable us to ascertain the species, but so swiftly, that
in a few minutes they were quite out of sight.

On the 29th of July 1833, during a thick fog, the Esquimaux Curlews
made their first appearance in Labrador, near the harbour of Bras d’Or.
They evidently came from the north, and arrived in such dense flocks
as to remind me of the Passenger Pigeons. The weather was extremely
cold as well as foggy. For more than a week we had been looking
for them, as was every fisherman in the harbour, these birds being
considered there, as indeed they are, great delicacies. The birds at
length came, flock after flock, passed close round our vessel, and
directed their course toward the sterile mountainous tracts in the
neighbourhood; and as soon as the sun’s rays had dispersed the fogs
that hung over the land, our whole party went off in search of them.

I was not long in discovering that their stay on this coast was
occasioned solely by the density of the mists and the heavy gales
that already gave intimation of the approaching close of the summer;
for whenever the weather cleared up a little, thousands of them set
off and steered in a straight course across the broad Gulf of St
Lawrence. On the contrary, when the wind was high, and the fogs thick,
they flew swiftly and low over the rocky surface of the country,
as if bewildered. Wherever there was a spot that seemed likely to
afford a supply of food, there the Curlews abounded, and were easily
approached. By the 12th of August, however, they had all left the
country.

In Labrador they feed on what the fishermen call the Curlew berry,
a small black fruit growing on a creeping shrub, not more than an
inch or two in height, and so abundant, that patches of several acres
covered the rocks here and there. When the birds were in search of
these feeding-grounds, they flew in close masses, sometimes high,
at other times low, but always with remarkable speed, and performing
beautiful evolutions in the air. The appearance of man did not seem
to intimidate them, for they would alight so near us, or pass over
our heads at so short a distance, that we easily shot them. While
on wing, they emitted an oft repeated soft whistling note, but the
moment they alighted they became silent. They ran swiftly along, all
in the same direction, picking up the berries in their way, and when
pursued, would immediately squat in the manner of a snipe or partridge,
sometimes even laying their neck and head quite flat on the ground,
until you came within a short distance, when, at the single whistle of
any one of the flock, they would all immediately scream and fly off,
rambling about for a while, and not unfrequently realighting on the
same spot. Now and then, however, their excursion would last a long
time, they would rise high in the air, make towards the sea, and, as
if aware of the unfavourable state of the weather for pursuing their
southward course, would return.

They continued to arrive at Bras d’Or for several days, in flocks
which seemed to me to increase in number. I saw no Hawks in their
rear, and I was the more astonished at this, that at that period the
Pigeon Hawk and Petit Caporal Hawk were pretty abundant.

They rose from the ground by a single quick spring, in the manner
of a snipe, when they would cut backward, forward, and all around,
in a very curious manner, and would now and then pause in the air,
like a Hawk, remaining stationary for a few moments with their head
meeting the wind, when immediately afterwards they would all suddenly
alight. In calm and fair weather, they were more shy than at other
times. While on their passage across the Gulf, they flew high in close
bodies, and with their usual speed, by no means in regular lines,
nor in any order, but much in the manner of the Migratory Pigeon,
now and then presenting a broad front, and again coming together so
as to form a close body.

Those which we procured were extremely fat and juicy, especially the
young birds, of which we ate a good many. Mr JONES, an old settler
of Bras d’Or, and his son, shoot a great number every season, which
they salt for winter food. They informed us that these birds pass over
the same tract about the middle of May, on their way northward, and
that they never found them breeding in their neighbourhood. Little
difference could be observed at that season between the males and
females, or between the old and young birds.

     NUMENIUS BOREALIS, _Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 712.—_Ch.
     Bonaparte_, Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 26. fig. 3.—Synops.
     of Birds of the United States, p. 314.—_Richardson and
     Swainson_ Fauna Boreali-Americana, part ii. p. 378.

     ESQUIMAUX CURLEW, NUMENIUS BOREALIS, _Nuttall_, Manual,
     vol. ii. p. 101.

Plate CCVIII. Adult Male. Fig. 1.

Bill much longer than the head, very slender, subcylindrical,
compressed, slightly arched. Upper mandible with the dorsal
line slightly arched, the sides, excepting at the base, nearly
perpendicular, and marked with a narrow groove extending more than
two-thirds of its length, edges rather obtuse. Nostrils basal, lateral,
longitudinal, elliptical. Lower mandible with the dorsal line arched,
the angle extremely narrow and extended to near the end, the sides
convex, the edges rather obtuse, the tips obtuse, that of the upper
mandible longer.

Head rather small, oblong, compressed. Neck rather long, slender.
Body slender. Feet of moderate length, slender. Toes small; first
very small, second and fourth about equal, third considerably longer.
Claws small, compressed, blunt, that of middle toe much longer, curved
outwards, with a sharp dilated inner edge.

Plumage soft and blended, on the fore part of the head very short.
Wings rather long, very acute, narrow, the first quill longest, the
second a little shorter, the rest regularly and rapidly graduated;
secondaries short, incurved, rounded, excepting some of the inner,
which are greatly elongated and tapering. Tail short, nearly even,
of twelve rounded feathers.

Bill brownish-black, the lower mandible flesh-coloured at the base.
Iris dark brown. Feet greyish-blue, claws black. The upper part of
the head is brownish-black, streaked with pale yellowish-brown, and
having an indistinct central line of the latter. The back is also
brownish-black, marked with numerous spots of light brownish-yellow,
there being several along the margin of each feather. Wing-coverts
and secondaries of a lighter brown, similarly spotted; alula, primary
coverts and quills unspotted, the shafts of most of the latter pale
brown, but of the outer white. Tail pale greyish-brown, with light
deep brown bars, and tipped with brownish-white. Sides of the head,
and the neck all round, pale yellowish-brown, striped with dark brown;
breast and sides of the same tint, with longitudinal and transverse
dark markings. Lower wing-coverts and lower tail-coverts similarly
barred; axillar feathers regularly banded, and of a deeper tint.
Abdomen without markings. Throat and a line over the eye nearly white.

Length to end of tail 14-1/2, to end of wings 14-7/8, to end of claws
16-3/4; wing from flexure 8-1/2, tail 3-1/4; extent of wings 27-3/8;
bill along the back 2-1/4, along the edge 2-1/2; tarsus 1-8/12, middle
toe 11/12, its claw (5-1/2)/12. Weight 1/2 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female resembles the male, and is scarcely inferior in size.

WILSON’S PLOVER.

_CHARADRIUS WILSONIUS_, ORD.

PLATE CCIX. MALE AND FEMALE.

Reader, imagine yourself standing motionless on some of the sandy
shores between South Carolina and the extremity of Florida, waiting
with impatience for the return of day;—or, if you dislike the idea,
imagine me there. The air is warm and pleasant, the smooth sea reflects
the feeble glimmerings of the fading stars, the sound of living thing
is not heard; nature, universal nature, is at rest. And here am I,
inhaling the grateful sea-air, with eyes intent on the dim distance.
See the bright blaze that issues from the verge of the waters! and
now the sun himself appears, and all is life, or seems to be; for as
the influence of the Divinity is to the universe, so is that of the
sun to the things of this world. Far away beyond that treacherous
reef, floats a gallant bark, that seems slumbering on the bosom of
the waters like a silvery sea-bird. Gentle breezes now creep over
the ocean, and ruffle its surface into tiny wavelets. The ship glides
along, the fishes leap with joy, and on my ear comes the well known
note of the bird which bears the name of one whom every ornithologist
must honour. Long have I known the bird myself, and yet desirous
of knowing it better, I have returned to this beach many successive
seasons for the purpose of observing its ways, examining its nest,
marking the care with which it rears its young, and the attachment
which it manifests to its mate. Well, let the scene vanish! and let
me present you with the results of my observations.

WILSON’s Plover! I love the name because of the respect I bear towards
him to whose memory the bird has been dedicated. How pleasing, I have
thought, it would have been to me, to have met with him on such an
excursion, and, after having procured a few of his own birds, to have
listened to him as he would speak of a thousand interesting facts
connected with his favourite science and my ever-pleasing pursuits.
How delightful to have talked, among other things, of the probable
use of the _double claws_ which I have found attached to the toes
of the species which goes by his name, and which are also seen in
other groups of shore and sea birds. Perhaps he might have informed
me why the claws of some birds are pectinated on one toe and not on
the rest, and why that toe itself is so cut. But alas! Wilson was
with me only a few times, and then _nothing_ worthy of his attention
was procured.

This interesting species, which always looks to me as if in form a
miniature copy of the Black-bellied Plover, is a constant resident in
the southern districts of the Union. There it breeds, and there too
it spends the winter. Many individuals, no doubt, move farther south,
but great numbers are at all times to be met with from Carolina to
the mouths of the Mississippi, and in all these places I have found
it the whole year round. Some go as far to the eastward as Long
Island in the State of New York, where, however, they are considered
as rarities; but beyond this, none, I believe, are seen along our
eastern shores. This circumstance has seemed the more surprising
to me, that its relative the Piping Plover proceeds as far as the
Magdeleine Islands; and that the latter bird should also breed in
the Carolinas a month earlier than WILSON’s Plover ever does, seems
to me not less astonishing.

WILSON’s Plover begins to lay its eggs about the time when the young
of the Piping Plover are running after their parents. Twenty or thirty
yards from the uppermost beat of the waves, on the first of June,
or some day not distant from it, the female may be seen scratching
a small cavity in the shelly sand, in which she deposits four eggs,
placing them carefully with the broad end outermost. The eggs, which
measure an inch and a quarter by seven and a half eighths, are of
a dull cream colour, sparingly sprinkled all over with dots of pale
purple and spots of dark brown. The eggs vary somewhat in size, and
in their ground colour, but less than those of many other species of
the genus. The young follow their parents as soon as they are hatched,
and the latter employ every artifice common to birds of this family,
to entice their enemies to follow them and thus save their offspring.

The flight of this species is rapid, elegant, and protracted. While
travelling from one sand-beach or island to another, they fly low over
the land or water, emitting a fine clear soft note. Now and then,
when after the breeding season they form into flocks of twenty or
thirty, they perform various evolutions in the air, cutting backwards
and forwards, as if inspecting the spot on which they wish to alight,
and then suddenly descend, sometimes on the sea-beach, and sometimes
on the more elevated sands at a little distance from it. They do not
run so nimbly as the Piping Plovers, nor are they nearly so shy. I
have in fact frequently walked up so as to be within ten yards or so
of them. They seldom mix with other species, and they shew a decided
preference to solitary uninhabited spots.

Their food consists principally of small marine insects, minute
shellfish, and sandworms, with which they mix particles of sand.
Towards autumn they become almost silent, and being then very plump,
afford delicious eating. They feed fully as much by night as by day,
and the large eyes of this as of other species of the genus, seem to
fit them for nocturnal searchings.

The young birds assemble together, and spend the winter months apart
from the old ones, which are easily recognised by their lighter tints.
While in the Floridas, near St Augustine, in the months of December
and January, I found this species much more abundant than any other;
and there were few of the Keys that had a sandy beach, or a rocky
shore, on which one or more pairs were not observed.

     WILSON’S PLOVER, CHARADRIUS WILSONIUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
     vol. ix. p. 77. pl. 73. fig. 5.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol.
     ii. p. 21.

     CHARADRIUS WILSONIUS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of
     the United States, p. 296.

Adult Female. Plate CCIX. Fig. 2.

Bill as long as the head, stout, straight, cylindrical, obtuse,
and somewhat turgid at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal
line straight until towards the end, when it is slightly arched and
declinate, the sides convex, the edges sharp and slightly inflected.
Nasal groove extending to about half the length of the bill; nostrils
lateral, linear, direct, in the lower part of the bare membrane.
Lower mandible with the angle rounded, the dorsal line convex and
ascending, the back broad, the sides convex, the edges inflected.

Head large, a little compressed, the forehead prominent; eyes large.
Neck short. Body rather full. Wings long. Legs rather long, slender;
tibia bare a little above the joint; tarsus of ordinary length,
somewhat compressed, covered with angular scales; toes small and
slender, covered above with numerous small scutella, first toe wanting,
fourth longer than second, third longest, the two outer connected at
the base by a pretty large web; claws small, slightly arched, much
compressed, obtuse.

Plumage soft and rather blended. Wings long, narrow, primaries nearly
straight, narrow and tapering, the first longest, second a little
shorter, the rest rapidly graduated; outer secondaries very short,
inner elongated so as to extend as far as the second primary. Tail
of moderate length, straight, rounded, of twelve feathers.

Bill black. Edges of eyelids grey; iris reddish-brown. Feet light
flesh-coloured; claws dusky. The general colour of the plumage above
is light brownish-grey. Lower part of forehead and a broad streak over
the eyes white; throat white, that colour extending narrow behind
so as to form a collar, below which is another of the general tint
of the back across the fore neck. The rest of the lower parts white.
Quills and tail of a deeper greyish-brown, the shafts white, the two
lateral tail-feathers whitish.

Length to end of tail 7-8/12 inches, to end of wings 7-7/12, to end
of claws 8-8/12; extent of wings 14-1/4; wing from flexure 5; tail
2-1/4; bill along the back (9-1/2)/12, along the edges 1; tarsus
1-2/12; middle toe 10/12, its claw 2/12.

Young Male in winter plumage. Plate CCIX. Fig. 1.

The Adult Male which is represented in Plate 284, is similar in
colouring to the female as described above, but the lore is dusky,
the white band on the forehead is surmounted by one of brownish black,
and there is a half collar of the same colour across the neck in front.

THE LEAST BITTERN.

_ARDEA EXILIS_, GMEL.

PLATE CCX. MALE, FEMALE, AND YOUNG.

One morning while I was at the Cincinnati Museum in the State of Ohio,
a woman came in holding in her apron one of this delicate species
alive, which she said had fallen down the chimney of her house under
night, and which, when she awoke at daybreak, was the first object she
saw, it having perched on one of the bed posts. It was a young bird.
I placed it on the table before me, and drew from it the figure on
the left of my plate. It stood perfectly still for two hours, but on
my touching it with a pencil, after my drawing was done, it flew off
and alighted on the cornice of a window. Replacing it on the table,
I took two books and laid them so as to leave before it a passage of
an inch and a half, through which it walked with ease. Bringing the
books nearer each other, so as to reduce the passage to one inch,
I tried the Bittern again, and again it made its way between them
without moving either. When dead, its body measured two inches and a
quarter across, from which it is apparent that this species, as well
as the Gallinules and Rails, is enabled to contract its breadth in
an extraordinary degree.

While I was in Philadelphia, in September 1832, a gentleman presented
me with a pair of adult birds of this species, alive and in perfect
plumage. They had been caught in a meadow a few miles below the city,
and I kept them alive several days, feeding them on small fish and
thin stripes of pork. They were expert at seizing flies, and swallowed
caterpillars, and other insects. My wife admired them much on account
of their gentle deportment, for although on being tormented, they would
spread their wings, ruffle their feathers, and draw back their head as
if to strike, yet they suffered themselves to be touched by any one
without pecking at his hand. It was amusing to see them continually
attempting to escape through the windows, climbing with ease from the
floor to the top of the curtain by means of their feet and claws. This
feat they would repeat whenever they were taken down. The experiment
of the books was tried with them, and succeeded as at Cincinnati.
At the approach of night they became much more lively, walked about
the room, in a graceful manner with much agility, and generally kept
close together. I had ample opportunities of studying their natural
positions, and drew both of them in the attitudes exhibited in the
plate. I would gladly have kept them longer; but as I was bound for
the south, I had them killed for the purpose of preserving their skins.

This bird ranges over most part of the United States, but is nowhere
to be found in tolerable abundance excepting about the mouths of the
Mississippi and the Southern portions of the Floridas, especially
the “Ever-glades.” I have met with them to the eastward as far as
New Brunswick, on our large lakes, and in the intermediate portions
of the country, although I have seldom found more than one or two at
a time. In the Floridas and Carolinas they have been known to breed
in small communities of four or five pairs. One instance of this
was observed by my friend Dr HORLBECK of Charleston, and Dr LEITNER,
another friend of mine, found them quite abundant in certain portions
of the Florida marshes.

Although the Least Bittern is not unfrequently started in salt
marshes, it gives a decided preference to the borders of ponds, lakes
or bayous of fresh water, and it is in secluded situations of this
kind that it usually forms its nest. This is sometimes placed on the
ground, amid the rankest grasses, but more frequently it is attached
to the stems several inches above it. It is flat, composed of dried
or rotten weeds, and in shape resembles that of the Louisiana Heron,
although this latter employs nothing but sticks. The eggs are three
or four, seldom more, of a dull yellowish-green, without spots, an
inch and a quarter in length, almost equal at both ends.

When the young are yet quite small, their heads are covered with
large tufts of reddish down, their bill is very short, and they sit
on their rump with their legs extended on each side before their
body, in the manner of young Herons. If disturbed when about two
weeks old, they leave the nest and scramble through the grass with
celerity, clinging to the blades with their sharp claws whenever this
is necessary. At a later period they seem to await the coming of their
parents with impatience; and if no noise is made, you may hear them
calling continually in a low croaking voice for half an hour at a
time. As soon as they are able to fly, they not unfrequently alight
on the branches of trees to escape from their various enemies, such
as minxes and water snakes, the latter of which destroy a good number
of them.

In two instances, I found the nests of the Least Bittern about three
feet above the ground, in a thick cluster of smilax and other briary
plants. In the first, two nests were placed in the same bush, within a
few yards of each other. In the other instance there was only one nest
of this bird, but several of the Boat-tailed Grakle, and one of the
Green Heron, the occupants of all of which seemed to be on friendly
terms. When startled from the nest, the old birds emit a few notes
resembling the syllable _quā_, alight a few yards off, and watch all
your movements. If you go towards them, you may sometimes take the
female with the hand, but rarely the male, who generally flies off,
or makes his way through the woods. Its ordinary cry, however, is a
rough croak resembling that of the Great Blue Heron, but much weaker.

The flight of this bird is apparently weak by day, for then it seldom
removes to a greater distance than a hundred yards at a time, and
this, too, only when frightened in a moderate degree, for, if much
alarmed, it falls again among the grass in the manner of the Rail;
but in the dusk of the evening and morning I have seen it passing
steadily along, at the height of fifty years or more, with the neck
retracted, and the legs stretched out behind, in the manner of the
larger Herons. On such occasions it uttered, at short intervals, its
peculiar cry, and continued its flight until out of sight. Several
individuals were together, and I imagined them to be proceeding
in search of breeding-grounds, or on a migratory expedition. When
disturbed by day, they fly with extended neck and dangling legs, and
are easily shot, as their course is generally direct and their flight
slow. When walking, it shoots its head forward at every step, as if
about to thrust its bill into some substance; and, if you attempt to
lay hold of it when disabled, it is apt to inflict a painful wound.

The food of this bird consists of snails, slugs, tadpoles, or young
frogs and water-lizards. In several instances, however, I have found
small shrews and field-mice in their stomach. Although more nocturnal
than diurnal, it moves a good deal about by day in search of food.
About noon, being doubtless much fatigued, they are not unfrequently
observed standing erect on one foot, and so soundly asleep as to
be easily knocked down or even caught by the hand, if cautiously
approached. This very remarkable habit of both our species of Bittern
has brought upon them the charge of extreme _stupidity_, whence the
name of _Butor_ given to them by the Creoles of Louisiana. Whether or
not this term be appropriate to the case, I leave for you to determine;
but, my opinion is, that the animal truly deserving to be called
stupid, yet remains to be discovered, and that the quality designated
by that epithet occurs nowhere else than among the individuals of
that species which so thoughtlessly applies the opprobrium.

     ARDEA EXILIS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synopsis of Birds of the
     United States, p. 308.

     LEAST BITTERN, ARDEA EXILIS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol.
     viii. p. 37. pl. 65. fig. 4.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii.
     p. 66.

Adult Male. Plate CCX. Fig. 1.

Bill longer than the head, slender, straight, tapering to a point,
deeper than broad at the base, compressed towards the end. Upper
mandible with its dorsal line almost straight, the ridge broad and
rather rounded at the base, narrowed towards the end, the sides
sloping, the edges very sharp, the tip acute. Nasal groove long;
nostrils basal, linear, longitudinal. Lower mandible with the angle
very long and narrow, the dorsal line sloping upwards, the sides
nearly flat, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip very acute.

Head oblong, much compressed. Neck long. Body very slender, much
compressed. Feet long, rather robust; tibia nearly entirely feathered;
tarsi covered anteriorly with broad oblique scutella; toes scutellate
above; hind toe stout, second and fourth nearly equal, third much
longer; claws long, slender, arched, compressed, acute, that of middle
toe serrated on the inner edge.

Eyelids and a large space before and beneath the eye, bare. Plumage
soft, blended; feathers of the hind head elongated, as are those of
the neck generally, but especially of its lower part anteriorly. Wings
short, broad, rounded, the second quill longest. Tail very short,
rounded, of twelve feathers.

Bill dark olive-brown above, edges of upper mandible and bare frontal
space yellow; lower mandible pale yellow, inclining to flesh colour.
Iris yellow. Feet dull greenish-yellow, claws brown. Upper part of
the head, and the back, greenish-black and glossy; sides of the head
and hind part of neck, brownish-red or light chestnut; wing-coverts
pale greyish-brown, quills purplish-grey, tipped with yellowish-brown,
the inner secondaries broadly margined with light chestnut, of which
colour also are the secondary coverts and the edge of the wing at
the flexure; the tail greenish-black. The throat and fore neck are
reddish-white; the rest of the lower parts are of the same colour,
excepting the fore part of the breast, which is blackish-brown, the
feathers tipped with reddish-yellow, and the outer tibial feathers,
which are reddish. In younger individuals the fore neck is more or
less spotted with light brown, as was the case with that represented;
but in old birds that part is unspotted.

Length to end of tail 13-1/2 inches, to end of claws 16; to end of wings
12-4/12; extent of wings 17-3/4; wing from flexure 5-1/4; tail 1-11/12;
bill along the ridge 1-3/4, along the edge of lower mandible 2-1/2;
tarsus 1-8/12; middle toe 1-1/2, its claw 5/12. Weight 4-3/4 oz.

Adult Female. Plate CCX. Fig. 2.

The Female is smaller, and differs considerably from the male in
colour. The bare parts and iris are the same. The upper part of the
head is reddish-brown, with a tinge of green; the back and scapulars
are dark chestnut, and there is a line of yellowish-white along each
side of the back, formed by the outer edges of the feathers. The rump
is darker, the tail bluish-black as in the male. In other respects
the colouring is similar, but the feathers of the fore neck and sides
have each a narrow central line of dark brown.

Length to end of tail 12 inches; wing from flexure 4-3/4; tail 1-3/4;
bill along the ridge 1-3/4, along the edge of lower mandible 2-2/12;
tarsus 1-1/2; middle toe 1-5/12, its claw 5/12. Weight 3-1/2 oz.

Young in first plumage. Plate CCX. Fig. 3.

The young has the bill, eyes and feet, nearly of the same tints as
the old; but the upper parts of the plumage are generally of a light
brownish-red, variegated with brownish-yellow; the primary quills
and tail black.

I have lately received a letter from my friend JOHN BACHMAN, stating
that he had found this species breeding in considerable numbers on
the plantation of JAMES H. SMITH, Esq. six miles east of Charleston,
where he procured specimens both of the birds and of their eggs. Mr
SMITH’s sons had killed, in the course of a couple of weeks, not less
than fourteen of these diminutive Herons. He describes the nest as
flat, composed of pieces of dry rushes about a foot in length, and
placed in a bunch of Juncus effusus. The eggs were nearly white with
a very light tinge of blue.

THE EGGERS OF LABRADOR.

The distinctive appellation of Eggers is given to certain persons who
follow, principally or exclusively, the avocation of procuring the
eggs of wild birds, with the view of disposing of them at some distant
port. Their great object is to plunder every nest, whenever they can
find it, no matter where, and at whatever risk. They are the pest
of the feathered tribes, and their brutal propensity to destroy the
poor creatures after they have robbed them, is abundantly gratified
whenever an opportunity presents itself.

Much had been said to me respecting these destructive pirates before
I visited the coast of Labrador, but I could not entirely credit all
their cruelties until I had actually witnessed their proceedings,
which were such as to inspire no small degree of horror. But you
shall judge for yourself.

See yon shallop shyly sailing along;—she sneaks like a thief, wishing
as it were to shun the very light of heaven. Under the lea of every
rocky isle some one at the tiller steers her course. Were his trade
an honest one, he would not think of hiding his back behind the
terrific rocks that seem to have been placed there as a resort to
the myriads of birds that annually visit this desolate region of the
earth, for the purpose of rearing their young, at a distance from
all disturbers of their peace. How unlike the open, the bold, the
honest mariner, whose face needs no mask, who scorns to skulk under
any circumstances! The vessel herself is a shabby thing:—her sails
are patched with stolen pieces of better canvass, the owners of which
have probably been stranded on some inhospitable coast, and have
been plundered, perhaps murdered, by the wretches before us. Look at
her again!—Her sides are neither painted, nor even pitched; no—they
are daubed over, plastered and patched with stripes of seal-skins,
laid along the seams. Her deck has never been washed or sanded, her
hold—for no cabin has she,—though at present empty, sends forth an
odour pestilential as that of a charnel-house. The crew, eight in
number, lie sleeping at the foot of their tottering mast, regardless
of the repairs needed in every part of her rigging. But see! she
scuds along, and as I suspect her crew to be bent on the commission
of some evil deed, let us follow her to the first harbour.

There rides the filthy thing! The afternoon is half over. Her crew
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.

When wounded, the Great Blue Heron immediately prepares for defence,
and woe to the man or dog who incautiously comes within reach of
its powerful bill, for that instant he is sure to receive a severe
wound, and the risk is so much the greater that birds of this species
commonly aim at the eye. If beaten with a pole or long stick, they
throw themselves on their back, cry aloud, and strike with their bill
and claws with great force. I have shot some on trees, which, although
quite dead, clung by their claws for a considerable time before they
fell. I have also seen the Blue Heron giving chase to a Fish Hawk,
whilst the latter was pursuing its way through the air towards a
place where it could feed on the fish which it bore in its talons.
The Heron soon overtook the Hawk, and at the very first lounge made
by it, the latter dropped its quarry, when the Heron sailed slowly
towards the ground, where it no doubt found the fish. On one occasion
of this kind, the Hawk dropped the fish in the water, when the Heron,
as if vexed that it was lost to him, continued to harass the Hawk,
and forced it into the woods.

The flight of the Great Blue Heron is even, powerful, and capable of
being protracted to a great distance. On rising from the ground or
on leaving its perch, it goes off in silence with extended neck and
dangling legs, for eight or ten yards, after which it draws back its
neck, extends its feet in a straight line behind, and with easy and
measured flappings continues its course, at times flying low over the
marshes, and again, as if suspecting danger, at a considerable height
over the land or the forest. It removes from one pond or creek, or
even from one marsh to another, in a direct manner, deviating only on
apprehending danger. When about to alight, it now and then sails in a
circular direction, and when near the spot it extends its legs, and
keeps its wings stretched out until it has effected a footing. The
same method is employed when it alights on a tree, where, however,
it does not appear to be as much at its ease as on the ground. When
suddenly surprised by an enemy, it utters several loud discordant
notes, and mutes the moment it flies off.

This species takes three years in attaining maturity, and even after
that period it still increases in size and weight. When just hatched
they have a very uncouth appearance, the legs and neck being very
long, as well as the bill. By the end of a-week the head and neck
are sparingly covered with long tufts of silky down, of a dark grey
colour, and the body exhibits young feathers, the quills large with
soft blue sheaths. The tibio-tarsal joints appear monstrous, and at
this period the bones of the leg are so soft, that one may bend them
to a considerable extent without breaking them. At the end of four
weeks, the body and wings are well covered with feathers of a dark
slate colour, broadly margined with ferruginous, the latter colour
shewing plainly on the thighs and the flexure of the wing; the bill
has grown wonderfully, the legs would not now easily break, and the
birds are able to stand erect on the nest or on the objects near it.
They are now seldom fed oftener than once a-day, as if their parents
were intent on teaching them that abstinence without which it would
often be difficult for them to subsist in their after life. At the
age of six or seven weeks they fly off, and at once go in search of
food, each by itself.

In the following spring, at which time they have grown much, the
elongated feathers of the breast and shoulders are seen, the males
shew the commencement of the pendent crest, and the top of the head
has become white. None breed at this age, in so far as I have been
able to observe. The second spring, they have a handsome appearance,
the upper parts have become light, the black and white marks are
much purer, and some have the crest three or four inches in length.
Some breed at this age. The third spring, the Great Blue Heron is as
represented in the plate.

The males are somewhat larger than the females, but there is very
little difference between the sexes in external appearance. This
species moults in the Southern States about the beginning of May,
or as soon as the young are hatched, and one month after the pendent
crest is dropped, and much of the beauty of the bird is gone for the
season. The weight of a full grown Heron of this kind, when it is
in good condition, is about eight pounds; but this varies very much
according to circumstances, and I have found some having all the
appearance of old birds that did not exceed six pounds. The stomach
consists of a long bag, thinly covered by a muscular coat, and is
capable of containing several fishes at a time. The intestine is not
thicker than the quill of a swan, and measures from eight and a half
to nine feet in length.

     ARDEA HERODIAS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 237.—_Lath._
     Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 692.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. p.
     304.

     GREAT HERON, ARDEA HERODIAS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol.
     vii. p. 106. pl. 61. Fig. 1.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p.
     42.

Adult Male in spring. Plate CCXI.

Bill much longer than the head, straight, compressed, tapering to a
point, the mandibles nearly equal; upper mandible with the dorsal line
nearly straight, the ridge broadly convex at the base, narrowed towards
the end, a groove from the base to near the tip, beneath which the
sides are convex, the edges extremely thin and sharp, towards the end
broken into irregular serratures, the tip acute. Lower mandible with
the angle extremely narrow and elongated, the dorsal line beyond it
ascending, and slightly curved, the ridge convex, the sides flattish
and ascending, the edges as in the upper, the tip acuminate. Nostrils
basal, linear, longitudinal, with a membrane above and behind.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed. Neck very long and slender.
Body slender and compressed; wings large. Feet very long; tibia
elongated, its lower half bare, very slender, covered all round with
hexagonal scales; tarsus elongated, thicker than the lower part of the
tibia, compressed, covered anteriorly with large scutella, excepting at
the two extremities, where it is scaly, the sides and hind part with
angular scales. Toes of moderate length, rather slender, scutellate
above, reticularly granulate beneath, third toe much longer than
second and fourth, which are nearly equal, first shorter, but strong;
claws of moderate size, strong, compressed, arched, rather acute,
the thin inner edge of that of the third toe finely serrated.

Space between the bill and eye, and around the latter, bare, as is
the lower half of the tibia. Plumage soft, generally loose. Feathers
of the upper part of the head long, tapering, decurved, two of them
extremely elongated; of the back long and loose, of the rump soft and
downy; scapulars with extremely long slender rather compact points.
Feathers of the fore neck much elongated and extremely slender, of the
sides of the breast anteriorly very large, curved and loose; of the
forepart of the breast narrower and elongated, as they are generally
on the rest of the lower surface; on the tibia short. Wings, large,
rounded; primaries curved, strong, broad, tapering towards the end, the
outer cut out on both margins, second and third longest; secondaries
very large, broad and rounded, extending beyond the primaries when
the wing is closed. Tail of moderate length, rounded, of twelve rather
broad, rounded feathers.

Bill yellow, dusky green above, loral and orbital spaces light green.
Iris bright yellow. Feet olivaceous, paler above the tibio-tarsal
joints; claws black. Forehead pure white; the rest of the elongated
feathers bluish-black; throat white, neck pale purplish-brown,
the elongated feathers beneath greyish-white, part of their inner
webs purplish-blue. Upper parts in general light greyish-blue, the
elongated tips of the scapulars greyish-white, the edge of the wing,
some feathers at the base of the fore neck, and the tibial feathers,
brownish-orange. The two tufts of large curved feathers on the fore
part of the breast bluish-black, some of them with a central stripe of
white. Lower surface of the wings and the sides light greyish-blue;
elongated feathers of the breast white, their inner edge black, of
the abdomen chiefly black; lower tail-coverts white, some of them
with an oblique mark of black near the tip.

Length to end of tail 48 inches, to end of claws 63 inches, extent
of wings 72; bill 5-1/2, gape 7-4/12; tarsus 6-1/2, middle toe and