SPRRESS a eee . ot he SEAS * San NS PY aber re coe ee See Sa SRS Se = Sos —— = See LABORATORY OF ORNITHOLOGY LIBRARY SSS FY CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Naw yoo poscen CCLLEGE CF AC TIOULTURE, DEPARTUERT CF HONTISULTURE, CORNELL UNIVERSITY, ITHACA, Ri. Y. i "ay PS Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022531200 FIELD AND GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY HANDBOOK OF FIELD AND GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY A MANUAL OF THE STRUCTURE AND CLASSIFICATION OF BIRDS WITH INSTRUCTIONS FOR COLLECTING AND PRESERVING SPECIMENS BY PROFESSOR ELLIOTT SOURS, M.A., M._D., ET¢. VICE-PRESIDENT AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGISTS UNION ; FOREIGN MEMBER BRITISH ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION ; CORRESPONDING MEMBER ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON, ETC. ILLUSTRATED London MACMILLAN AND GO. 1890 All rights reserved CA \46 SS Nore.—The Publishers beg to give notice that copies of this English Edition of Dr. Coues’s Book cannot be introduced into the United States of America. PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE By arrangement with the American publishers of Professor Coues’s Key to North American Birds, which has been for many years the standard text-book of Ornithology, we are enabled to present a new edition of those portions of the “Key” which have not less interest for the English than for the American public. The present volume consists of two distinct parts. Part I., entitled “ Field Ornithology,” contains the necessary instructions for the observation and collection of birds in the field, and for the preparation and preservation of specimens for scientific study in the cabinet. Part IL, entitled “General Ornithology,” is a technical treatise on the classification, the zoological characters, and the anatomical structure of the class of Birds, in which the examples cited in illustration of the principles of Ornithology have for the most part been redrawn by the author from British instead of American birds. With the further exception of a few verbal changes, and slight abridgment in one or two places, made by the author in revising the proofs, the present “Handbook” is a reprint of the portions of the “ Key” above specified. CONTENTS PART I FIELD ORNITHOLOGY SECTION PAGE I. IMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR Us ; , 3 II. Docs . 7 ¢ 3 ‘ ji i . +14 III. Various SuccEsTIons AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WoRK » 15 IV. Hycigne or CoLLECTORSHIP ‘ 7 ‘ ‘ « 28 V. REGISTRATION AND LABELLING 3 ‘ . . 88 VI. InstrRuUMENTs, MATERIALS, AND FIXTURES FOR PREPARING BiRD- SKINS : ‘ “i ‘ 5 . 88 VII. How To MAKE A BIRDSKIN . 3 : 42 VIII. MisceLLANEOUS PARTICULARS . 68 IX. CoLLEecTIoN or Nests anp Eaes * ‘ 95 X. CARE OF A COLLECTION 82 PART II GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY I. DEFINITION OF BIRDS . ‘ : i 91 II. PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION z . 99 III. DEFINITIONS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THE EXTERIOR Parts oF Birps 123 IV. An INTRODUCTION To THE ANATOMY OF BrRDS . 197 PART I FIELD ORNITHOLOGY BEING A MANUAL OF INSTRUCTION FOR COLLECTING, PREPARING, AND PRESERVING BIRDS FIELD ORNITHOLOGY FIELD ornithology must lead the way to systematic and descriptive ornithology. The study of birds in the field is an indispensable prerequisite to their scientific study in the library and the museum. Directions for observing and collecting birds, for preparing and pre- serving them as objects of natural history, will greatly help the student to become a successful ornithologist, if he will faithfully and intelligently observe these rules. It is believed that the practical instructions which the author has to give will, if followed out, enable any one who has the least taste or aptitude for such pursuits to become proficient in the necessary qualifications of the good working ornithologist. These instructions are derived from the writer's own experience, reaching in time over thirty years, and extending in area over large portions of North America. Having made in the field the personal acquaintance of most species of North American birds, and having shot and skinned with his own hands several thousand specimens, he may reasonably venture to speak with confidence, if not also with authority, respecting methods of study and manipulation. Feeling so much at home in the field— with his gun for destroying birds, and his instruments for preserv- ing their skins—he wishes to put the most inexperienced student equally at ease; and therefore begs to lay formality aside, that he may address the reader as if chatting with a friend on a subject of mutual interest. § 1—IMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE The Double-barrelled Shot Gun is your main reliance. Under some circumstances you may trap or snare birds, catch them with bird-lime, or use other devices; but such cases are exceptions to 4 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART | the rule that you will shoot birds, and for this purpose no weapon compares with the one just mentioned. The soul of good advice respecting the selection of a gun is, Get the best one you can afford to buy; go the full length of your purse in the matters of material and workmanship. To say nothing of the prime requisite, safety, or of the next most desirable quality, efficiency, the durability of a high-priced gun makes it cheapest in the end. Style of finish is obviously of little consequence, except as an index of other qualities ; for inferior guns rarely, if ever, display the exquisite appointments that mark a first-rate arm. There is really so little choice among good guns that nothing need be said on this score ; you cannot miss it if you pay enough to any reputable maker or reliable dealer. But collecting is a specialty, and some guns are better adapted than others to your particular purpose. This is the destruction, as a rule, of small birds, at moderate range, with the least. possible injury to their plumage. Probably three-fourths or more of the birds of any miscellaneous collection average under the size of a pigeon, and were shot within thirty yards. A heavy gun is therefore unnecessary, in fact ineligible, the extra weight being useless, You will find a gun of seven and a half to eight pounds weight most suitable. For similar reasons the bore should be small; I prefer fourteen gauge, and should not think of going over twelve. Length of barrel is of less consequence than many suppose ; for myself, I incline to a rather long barrel—one nearer thirty-three than twenty-eight inches—hbelieving that such a barrel may throw shot better; but I am not sure that this is even the rule, while it is well known that several circumstances of loading, besides some almost inappreciable differences in the way barrels are bored, will cause guns apparently exactly alike to throw shot differently. Length and crook of stock should of course be adapted to your figure—a gun may be made to fit you, as well as a coat. For wild- fowl shooting, and on some other special occasions, a heavier and altogether more powerful gun will be preferable. Breech-loader v. Muzzle-loader, a case formerly argued, has long been settled in favour of the former. Provided the mechanism and workmanship of the breech be what they should, there are no valid objections to offset obvious advantages, some of which are these: ease and rapidity of loading, and consequent delivery of shots in quick succession ; facility of cleaning; compactness and portability of ammunition; readiness with which different-sized shot may be used. This last is highly important to the collector, who never knows the moment he may wish to fire at a very different bird from such as he has already loaded for. The muzzle- loader must always contain the fine shot with which nine-tenths of your specimens will be secured; if in both barrels, you cannot sec. 1 JMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE 5 deal with a hawk or other large bird with reasonable prospects of success ; if in only one barrel, the other being more heavily charged, you are crippled to the extent of exactly one-half of your resources for ordinary shooting. Whereas, with the breech-loader you will habitually use mustard-seed in both barrels, and yet can slip in a different shell in time to seize most opportunities requiring large shot. This consideration alone should decide the case. Moreover, the time spent in the field in loading an ordinary -gun is no small item; while cartridges may be charged in your leisure at home. This should become the natural occupation of your spare moments. No time is really gained ; you simply change to advantage the time consumed. Metal shells, charged with loose ammunition, and susceptible of being reloaded many times, may be used instead of any special fixed ammunition which, once exhausted in a distant place (and circumstances may upset the best calculations on that score), leaves the gun useless. On charging the shells, mark the number of the shot used on the outside wad; or better, use coloured wads—say plain white for dust shot, and red, blue, and green for certain other sizes. If going far away, take as many shells as you think can possibly be wanted—and a few more. Experience, however, will soon teach you to prefer paper cartridges for breech-loaders. They may of course be loaded according to circumstances, with the same facility as metal shells, and even reloaded if desired. It is a good deal of trouble to take care of metal shells, to prevent loss, keep them clean, and avoid bending or indenting ; while there is often a practical difficulty in recapping —at least with the common styles that take a special primer. Those fitted with a screw top holding a nipple for ordinary caps are expensive. Paper cartridges come already capped, so that this bother is avoided, and it is not ordinarily worth while to reload them. They are made of different colours, distinguishing various sizes of shot used without employing the coloured wads otherwise required. They may be taken into the field empty and loaded on occasion to suit; but it is better to pay a trifle extra to have them loaded at the shop. In such case, about four-fifths of the stock should contain mustard-seed, nearly all the rest about No. 7, a very few being reserved for about No. 4. Cost of ammunition is hardly appreciably increased; its weight is put in the most conveniently portable shape; the whole apparatus for carrying it loose and for loading the shells is dispensed with; much time is saved, the entire drudgery (excepting gun-cleaning) of collecting being avoided. I was prepared in this way during the summer of 1873 for the heaviest work I ever succeeded in accomplishing dur- ing the same length of time. In June, when birds were plentiful, T easily averaged fifteen skins a day, and occasionally made twice 6 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I as many. As items serving to base calculations, I may mention that in four months I used about two thousand cartridges, loaded, at $42 per M., with seven-eighths of an ounce of shot and two and three-fourths drachms of powder. Only about three hundred were charged with shot larger than mustard-seed. In estimating the size of a collection that may result from use of a given number of cartridges, it may not be safe for even a good shot to count on much more than half as many specimens as cartridges. The number is practically reduced by the following steps: Cartridges lost or damaged, or originally defective; shots missed; birds killed or wounded, not recovered ; specimens secured unfit for preservation, or not preserved for any reason; specimens accidentally spoilt in stuffing, or subsequently damaged, so as to be not worth keeping ; and finally, use of cartridges to kill game for the table. Other Weapons, ete.—An ordinary single-barrel gun will of course answer; but is a sorry makeshift, for it is sometimes so poorly constructed as to be unsafe, and can at best be only just half as effective. This remark does not apply to any of the fine single-barrelled breech-loaders now made. You will find these very effective weapons, and they are not at all expensive. An arm now much used by collectors is a kind of breech-loading pistol, with or without a skeleton gun-stock to screw into the handle, and taking a particular style of metal cartridge, charged with a few grains of powder, or with nothing but the fulminate. They are very light, very cheap, safe and easy to work, and astonishingly effective up to twenty or thirty yards; making probably the best “second choice” after the matchless double-barrelled breech-loader itself. The cane- gun should be mentioned in this connection. It is a single-barrel, lacquered to look like a stick, with a brass stopper at the muzzle to imitate a ferule, countersunk hammer and trigger, and either a simple curved handle, or a light gunstock-shaped piece that screws in. The affair is easily mistaken for a cane. Some have acquired considerable dexterity in its use; my own experience with it is very limited and unsatisfactory ; the handle always hit me in the face, and I generally missed my bird. It has only two recommendations. If you approve of shooting on Sunday, and yet scruple to shock popular prejudice, you can slip out of town unsuspected. If you are shooting where the law forbids destruction of small birds,—a wise and good law that you may sometimes be inclined to defy,— artfully careless handling of the deceitful implement may prevent arrest and fine. A blow-gun is sometimes used. It is a long slender tube of wood, metal, or glass, through which clay balls, tiny arrows, etc., are projected by force of the breath. It must be quite an art to use such a weapon successfully, and its employment is necessarily exceptional. Some uncivilised tribes are said to possess marvellous sec.1 IMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE 7 skill in the use of long bamboo blow-guns; and such people are often valuable employés of the collector. I have had no experience with the noiseless air-gun, which is, in effect, a modified blow-gun, compressed air being the explosive power. Nor can I say much of various methods of trapping birds that may be practised. On these points I must leave you to your own devices, with the remark that horse-hair snares, set over a nest, are often of great service in securing the parent of eggs that might otherwise remain wnidentified. I have no practical knowledge of bird-lime. A method of netting birds alive, which I have tried, is both easy and successful. A net of fine green silk, some eight or ten feet square, is stretched perpen- dicularly across a narrow part of one of the little brooks, overgrown with briers and shrubbery, that intersect many of our meadows. Retreating to a distance, the collector beats along the shrubbery making all the noise he can, urging on the little birds till they reach the almost invisible net and become entangled in trying to fly through. I have in this manner taken a dozen sparrows and the like at one “drive.” But the gun can rarely be laid aside for this or any other device. Ammunition.—The best powder is that combining strength and cleanliness in the highest compatible degree. In some brands too much of the latter is sacrificed to the former. Other things being equal, a rather coarse powder is preferable, since its slower action tends to throw shot closer. Some numbers are said to be“ too quick” for fine breech-loaders. Inexperienced sportsmen and col- lectors almost invariably use too coarse shot. Then two evils result : The number of pellets in a load is decreased, the chances of killing being correspondingly lessened ; and the plumage is badly injured, either by direct mutilation, or by subsequent bleeding through large holes. As already hinted, shot cannot be too fine for your routine collecting. Use “mustard-seed,” or “dust-shot,” as it is variously called ; it is smaller than any of the sizes usually numbered. As the very finest can only be procured in cities, provide yourself liberally on leaving any centre of civilisation for even a country village, to say nothing of remote regions. A small bird that would have been torn to pieces by a few large pellets, may be riddled with mustard-seed and yet be preservable ; moreover, there is, as a rule, little or no bleeding from such minute holes, which close up by the elasticity of the tissues involved. It is astonishing what large birds may be brought down with these tiny pellets. I have killed hawks with such shot, knocked over a wood-ibis at forty yards, and once shot ‘a wolf dead with No. 10—though I am bound to say the animal was within afew feet of me. After dust-shot, and the nearest number or two, No. 8 or 7 will be found most useful. Water-fowl, thick-skinned sea-birds like loons, cormorants, and pelicans, and a 8 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I few of the largest land-birds, require heavier shot. I have had no experience with the substitution of fine gravel or sand, much less water, as a projectile ; besides shot I never fired anything at a bird except my ramrod, on one or two occasions, when I never afterward saw either the bird or the stick. Cut felt wads are the only suitable article. Ely’s “chemically prepared” wadding is the best. It is well, when using plain wads, occasionally to drive a greased one through the barrel. Since you may sometimes run out of wads through an unexpected contingency, always keep a wad-cutter to fit your gun. You can make serviceable wads of pasteboard, but they are inferior to felt. Cut them on the flat sawn end of a stick of firewood. Use a wooden mallet, instead of a hammer or hatchet, and so save your cutter. Soft paper is next best after wads; I have never used rags, cotton, or tow, fearing these tinder-like sub- stances might leave a spark in the barrels. Crumbled leaves or grass will answer at a pinch. Other Equipments.—(a) For the gun. A gun-case will come cheap in the end, especially if you travel much. The usual box, divided into compartments, and well lined, is the best, though the full-length leather or india-rubber cloth case answers very well. The box should contain a small kit of tools, such as mainspring-vice, nipple-wrench, screw-driver, etc. A stout hard-wood cleaning-rod, with wormer, will be required. It is always safe to have parts of the gun-lock, especially mainspring, in duplicate. For muzzle- loaders extra nipples and extra ramrod heads and tips often come into use. For breech-loaders the apparatus for charging the shells is practically indispensable. (6) For ammunition. Metal shells or paper cartridges may be carried loose in the large lower coat pocket, or in a leather satchel. There is said to be a chance of explosion by some unlucky blow, when they are so carried, but I never knew of an instance. Another way is to fix them separately in a row in snug loops of soft leather sewn continuously along a stout waist-belt ; or in several such horizontal rows on a square piece of thick leather, to be slung by a strap over the shoulder. But better than anything else is a stout linen ves?, similarly furnished with loops holding each a cartridge ; this distributes the weight so perfectly, that the usual “forty rounds” may be carried without feeling it. The appliances for loose ammunition are almost endlessly varied, so every one may consult his taste or convenience. But now that everybody uses the breech-loader, shot-pouches and powder-flasks are among the things that were. (c) For specimens. You must always carry paper in which to wrap up your specimens, as more particularly directed beyond. Nothing is better for this purpose than writing-paper ; “rejected” or otherwise useless MSS. may thus be utilised. The ordinary game-bag, with leather back and network front, answers sec.1 LMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE 9 very well; but a light basket, fitting the body, such as the creel used by anglers, is the best thing to carry specimens in. Avoid putting specimens into pockets, unless you have your coat-tail largely excavated ; crowding them into a close pocket, where they press each other, and receive warmth from the person, will injure them. It is always well to take a little raw cotton into the field, to plug up shot-holes, mouth, nostrils, or vent, immediately if required. (d) For yourself. The indications to be fulfilled in your clothing are these: Adaptability to the weather; and since a shooting-coat is not conveniently changed, while an overcoat is ordinarily ineli- gible, the requirement is best met by different underclothes. Easy fit, allowing perfect freedom of muscular action, especially of the arms. Strength of fabric, to resist briers and stand wear ; velveteen and corduroy are excellent materials. Subdued colour, to render you as inconspicuous as possible, and to show dirt the least. Multi- plicity of pockets—a perfect shooting-coat is an ingenious system of hanging pouches about the person. Broad-soled, low-heeled boots or shoes, giving a firm tread even when wet. Close-fitting cap with prominent visor, or low soft felt hat, rather broad-brimmed. Let india-rubber goods alone ; the field is no place for a sweat-bath. Qualifications for Suceess.—With the outfit just indicated you command all the required appliances that you can buy, and the rest lies with yourself. Success hangs upon your own exertions ; upon your energy, industry, and perseverance; your knowledge and skill; your zeal and enthusiasm, in collecting birds, much as in other affairs of life. But that your efforts—maiden attempts they must once have been if they be not such now—may be directed to best advantage, further instructions may not be unacceptable. To Carry a Gun without peril to human life or limb is the abc of its use. ‘‘There’s death in the pot.” Such constant care is required to avoid accidents that no man can give it by continual voluntary or conscious effort: safe carriage of the gun must become an unconscious habit, fixed as the movements of an automaton. The golden rule and whole secret is: the muzzle must never sweep the horizon ; accidental discharge should send the shot into the ground before your feet, or away up in the air. There are several safe and easy ways of holding a piece; they will be employed by turns to relieve particular muscles when fatigued. 1. Hold it in the hollow of the arm (preferably the left, as you can recover to aim in less time than from the right), across the front of your person, the hand on the grip, the muzzle elevated about 45°. 2. Hang it by the trigger-guard hitched over the forearm brought round to the breast, the stock passing behind the upper arm, the muzzle pointing to the ground a pace or so in front of you. 3. Shoulder it, the hand on the grip or heel-plate, the muzzle pointing upward at least 45°. 4. 10 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I Shoulder it reversed, the hand grasping the barrels about their middle, the muzzle pointing forward and downward ; this is per- fectly admissible, but is the most awkward position of all to recover from. Always carry a loaded gun at half-cock, unless you are about to shoot. The best guns are now fitted with rebounding locks, having a device by which the hammer is thrown back to half-cock as soon as the blow is delivered on the firing-pin. This admirable device is a great safeguard, and is particularly eligible for breech- loaders, as the barrels may be unlocked and relocked without touching the hammers. Unless the lock fail, accidental discharge is impossible, except under these circumstances : (a) a direct blow on the nipple or pin; (0) catching of both hammer and trigger simultaneously, drawing back of the former and its release whilst the trigger is still held,—the chances against which are simply incalculable. Full-cock, ticklish as it seems, is safer than no-cock, when a tap on the hammer, or a slight catch and release of the hammer, may cause discharge. Never let the muzzle of a loaded gun point toward your own person for a single instant. Get your gun over fences, or into boats or carriages, before you get over or in yourself, or at any rate no later. Remove caps or cartridges on entering a house. Never aim a gun, loaded or not, at any object, unless you mean to press the trigger. Never put a loaded gun away long enough to forget whether it is loaded or not. Never leave a loaded gun to be found by others under circumstances reasonably presupposing it to be unloaded. Never put a gun where it can be knocked down by a dog or a child. Never imagine that there can be any excuse for putting away a breech-loader loaded under any circumstances. Never forget that the idiots who kill people because they “didn’t know it was loaded,” are perennial. Never forget that though a gunning accident may be sometimes interpreted (from a false standpoint) as a “dispensation of Provi- dence,” such dispensations happen oftenest to the careless. ‘ To Clean a Gun properly requires some knowledge, more good temper, and most “elbow-grease”; it is dirty, disagreeable, inevitable work, which laziness, business, tiredness, indifference, and good taste will by turns tempt you to shirk. After a hunt you are tired, have your clothes to change, a meal to eat, a lot of birds to skin, a journal to write up. If you “sub-let” the contract, the chances are it is but half fulfilled; serve yourself, if you want to be well served. If you cannot find time for a regular cleaning, an intolerably foul gun may be made to do another day’s work by swabbing for a few moments with a wet (not dripping) rag, and then with an oiled one. For the full wash use cold water first; it loosens dirt better than hot water. Set the barrels in a pail of water; wrap the end of the cleaning rod with tow or cloth, and sec. 1 JMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE II pump away till your arms ache. Change the rag or tow, and the water too, till they both stay clean for all the swabbing you can do. Then use boiling water till the barrels are well heated ; wipe as dry as possible inside and out, and set them by a fire. Finish with a light oiling, inside and out; touch up all the metal about the stock, and polish the wood-work. Do not remove the locks oftener than is necessary ; every time they are taken out, something of the exquisite fitting that marks a good gun may be lost; as long as they work smoothly take it for granted they are all right. To keep a gun well, under long disuse, it should have had a particu- larly thorough cleaning; the chambers should be packed with greasy tow; greased wads may be rammed at intervals along the barrels ; or the barrels may be filled with melted tallow. Neat’s- foot is recommended as the best easily procured oil; the porpoise- oil which is used by watchmakers is the very best; the oil made for use on sewing-machines is excellent ; “olive” oil (made of lard) for table use answers the purpose. The quality of an oil may be improved by putting in it a few tacks, or scraps of zinc,—the oil expends its rusting capacity in oxidising the metal. Inferior oils get “sticky.” One of the best preventives of rust is mercurial (“blue”) ointment ; it may be freely used. Kerosene will remove rust ; but use it sparingly, for it “eats” sound metal too. To Load a Gun effectively requires something more than knowledge of the facts that the powder should go in before the shot, and that each should have a wad atop. The most nearly universal fault is use of too much shot for the amount of powder ; and the next, too much of both. The rule is bulk for bulk of powder and shot. If not exactly this, then rather less shot than powder. It is absurd to suppose, as some persons do who ought to. know better, that the more shot in a gun the greater the chances of kill- ing. The projectile force of a charge cannot possibly be greater than the vis inertie of the gun as held by the shooter. The explo- sion is manifested in all directions, and blows the shot in one way simply because it has no other escape. If the resistance in front of the powder were greater than elsewhere, the shot would not budge, but the gun would fly backward, or burst. This always reminds me of Lord Dundreary’s famous conundrum—Why does a dog wag his tail? Because he is bigger than his tail; otherwise the tail would wag him. A gun shoots shot because the gun is the heavier ; otherwise the shot would shoot the gun. Every unneces- sary pellet is a pellet against you, not against the game. The experienced sportsman uses about one-third less shot than the tyro, with proportionally better result, other things being equal. As to powder, moreover, a gun can only burn just so much, and every grain blown out unburnt is wasted. No express directions for 12 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I absolute weight or measures of either powder or shot can be given ; in fact, different guns take as their most effective charge such a variable amount of ammunition, that one of the first things you have to learn about your own arm is, its normal charge-gauge. Find out, by assiduous target practice, what absolute amounts (and to a slight degree, what relative proportion) of powder and shot are required to shoot the farthest and distribute the pellets most evenly. This practice, furthermore, will acquaint you with your gun’s capa- cities in every respect. You should learn exactly what it will and what it will not do, so as to feel perfect confidence in your arm within a certain range, and to waste no shots in attempting miracles. Immoderate recoil is a pretty sure sign that the gun is overloaded, or otherwise wrongly charged ; and all force of recoil is subtracted from the impulse of the shot. It is useless to ram powder very hard ; two or three smart taps of the rod will suffice, and more will not increase the explosive force. On the shot the wad should simply be pressed close enough to fix the pellets immovably. These directions apply to the charging of metal or paper cartridges as well as to loading by the muzzle. The latter operation is rarely required, now that guns of every grade are made to break at the breech. Finally, let me impress upon you the expediency of light loading in your routine collecting. Three-fourths of your shots need not bring into action the gun’s full powers of execution. You will shoot more birds under than over thirty yards; not a few you must secure, if at all, at ten or fifteen yards; and your object is always to kill them with the least possible damage to the plumage. I have, on particular occasions, loaded even down to one third oz. of shot and one and a half dr. of powder. There is astonishing force compressed in a few grains of powder ; an aston- ishing number of pellets in the smallest load of mustard-seed. To Shoot successfully is an art which may be acquired by practice, and can be learned only in the school of experience. No general directions will make you a good shot, any more than a proficient in music or painting. To tell you that in order to hit a bird you must point the gun at it and press the trigger, is like saying that to play on the fiddle you must shove the bow across the strings with one hand while you finger them with the other ; in either case the result is the same, a noise, but neither music nor game. Nor is it possible for every one to become an artist in gunnery; a “crack-shot,” like a poet, is born, not made. For myself, I make no pretensions to genius in that direction; for although I generally make fair bags, and have destroyed many thousand birds in my time, this is rather owing to some familiarity I have gained with the habits of birds, and a certain knack, acquired by long practice, of picking them out of trees and bushes, than to sec. 1 IMPLEMENTS FOR COLLECTING, AND THEIR USE 13 skilful shooting from the sportsman’s standpoint; in fact, if I cut down two or three birds on the wing without a miss I am working quite up to my average in that line. But any one not purblind or a “butter-fingers” can become a reasonably fair shot by practice, and do good collecting. It is not so hard, after all, to sight a gun correctly on an immovable object, and collecting differs from sport- ing proper in this, that comparatively few birds are shot on the wing. But Ido not mean to imply that it requires less skill to collect successfully than to secure game ; on the contrary, it is finer shooting, I think, to drop a warbler skipping about a tree-top than to stop a quail at full speed; while hitting a sparrow that springs from the grass at one’s feet to flicker in sight a few seconds and disappear is the most difficult of all shooting. Besides, a crack shot, as understood, aims unconsciously, with mechanical accuracy and certitude of hitting ; he simply wills, and the trained muscles obey without his superintendence, just as the fingers form letters with the pen in writing; whereas the collector must usually supervise his muscles all through the act and see that they mind. In spite of the proportion of snap-shots of all sorts you will have to take, your collecting shots, as a rule, are made with deliberate aim. There is much the same difference, on the whole, between the sportsman’s work and the collector’s, that there is between shot-gun and rifle practice, collecting being comparable to the latter. It is generally understood that the acme of skill with the two weapons is an incompatibility ; and, certainly, the best shot is not always the best collector, even supposing the two to be on a par in their know- ledge of birds’ haunts and habits. Still, a hopelessly poor shot can only attain fair results by extraordinary diligence and perseverance. Certain principles of shooting may perhaps be reduced to words. Aim deliberately directly at an immovable object at fair range. Hold over a motionless object when far off, as the trajectory of the shot curves downward. Hold a little to one side of a stationary object when very near, preferring rather to take the chances of missing it with the peripheral pellets, than of hopelessly mutilating it with the main body of the charge. Fire at the first fair aim, without trying to improve what is good enough already. Never “pull” the trigger, but press it. Bear the shock of discharge with- out flinching. In shooting on the wing, fire the instant the heel of the gun taps your shoulder; you will miss at first, but by and by the birds will begin to drop, and you will have laid the founda- tion of good shooting, the knack of “ covering” a bird unconsciously. The habit of “poking” after a bird on the wing is an almost incur- able vice, and may keep you a poor shot all your life. (The col- lector’s frequent necessity of poking after little birds in the bush is what so often hinders him from acquiring brilliant execution.) Aim 14 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART 1 ahead of a flying bird—the calculation to be made varies, according to the distance of the object, its velocity, its course and the wind, from a few inches to several feet; practice will finally render it intuitive. § 2.—DOGS A Good Dog is one of the most faithful, respectful, affec- tionate, and sensible of brutes; deference to such rare qualities demands a chapter, however brief. A trained dog is the indis- pensable servant of the sportsman in his pursuit of most kinds of game; but I trust I am guilty of no discourtesy to the noble animal, when I say that he is a luxury rather than a necessity to the collector—a pleasant companion, who knows almost everything except how to talk, who converses with his eyes and ears and tail, shares comforts and discomforts with equal alacrity, and occasion- ally makes himself useful. So far as a collector’s work tallies with that of a sportsman, the dog is equally useful to both ; but finding and telling of game aside, your dog’s services are restricted to companionship and retrieving. He may, indeed, flush many sorts of birds for you; but he does it, if at all, at random, while capering about; for the brute intellect is limited after all, and can- not comprehend a naturalist. The best trained setter or pointer that ever marked a quail could not be made to understand what you are about, and it would ruin him for sporting purposes if he did. Take a well-bred dog out with you, and the chances are he will soon trot home in disgust at your performances with jack- sparrows and tomtits. It implies such a perversion of a good dog’s instincts to make him really a useful servant of the collector, that I am half inclined to say nothing about retrieving, and tell you to make a companion of your dog, or let him alone. I was followed for several years by “the best dog I ever saw” (every one’s gun, dog, and child is the best ever seen), and a first-rate retriever ; yet I always preferred, when practicable, to pick up my own birds, rather than let a delicate plumage into a dog’s mouth, and scolded away the poor brute so often, that she very properly returned the compliment, in the end, by retrieving just when she felt like it, However, we remained the best of friends. Any good setter, pointer, or spaniel, and some kinds of curs, may be trained to retrieve. The great point is to teach them not to “mouth” a bird - it may be accomplished by sticking pins in the ball with which their early lessons are taught. Such dogs are particularly useful in bringing birds out of the water, and in searching for them when lost. One point in training should never be neglected: teach a dog sec, 1 SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 15 what ‘to heel” means, and make him obey this command. A riotous brute is simply unendurable under any circumstances. § 3.—VARIOUS SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK To be a good Collector, and nothing more, is a small affair; great skill may be acquired in the art, without a single quality commanding respect. One of the most vulgar, brutal, and ignorant men I ever knew was a sharp collector and an excellent taxidermist. Collecting stands much in the same relation to orni- thology that the useful and indispensable office of an apothecary bears to the duties of a physician. A field-naturalist is always more or less of a collector; the latter is sometimes found to know almost nothing of natural history worth knowing. The true orni- thologist goes out to study birds alive and destroys some of them simply because that is the only way of learning their structure and technical characters. There is much more about a bird than can be discovered in its dead body,—how much more, then, than can be found out from its stuffed skin! In my humble opinion the man who only gathers birds, as a miser money, to swell his cabinet, and that other man who gloats, as miser-like, over the same hoard, both work ona plane far beneath where the enlightened naturalist stands. One looks at Nature, and never knows that she is beautiful; the other knows she is beautiful, as even a corpse may be; the naturalist catches her sentient expression, and knows how beautiful she is! I would have you to know and love her; for fairer mis- tress never swayed the heart of man. Aim high !—press on, and leave the half-way house of mere collectorship far behind ‘in your pursuit of a delightful study, nor fancy the closet its goal. Birds may be sought anywhere, at any time; they should be sought everywhere, at all times. Some come about your door- step to tell their stories unasked. Others spring up before you as you stroll in the field, like the flowers that enticed the feet of Proserpine. Birds flit by as you measure the tired roadside, lend- ing a tithe of their life to quicken your dusty steps. They disport overhead at hide-and-seek with the foliage as you loiter in the shade of the forest, and their music now answers the sigh of the tree-tops, now ripples an echo to the voice of the brook. But you will not always so pluck a thornless rose. Birds hedge themselves about with a bristling girdle of brier and bramble you cannot break ; they build their tiny castles in the air surrounded by impassable moats, and the drawbridges are never down. They crown the 16 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I mountain-top you may lose your breath to climb ; they sprinkle the desert where your parched lips may find no cooling draught ; they fleck the snow-wreath when the nipping blast may make you turn your back ; they breathe unharmed the pestilent vapours of the swamp that mean disease, if not death, for you; they outride the storm at sea that sends strong men to their last account. Where now will you look for birds ? And yet, as skilled labour is always most productive, so.expert search yields more than random or blundering pursuit. The more varied the face of a country, the more various its birds. A place all plain, all marsh, all woodland, yields its particular set of birds, perhaps in profusion ; but the kinds will be limited in number. It is of first importance to remember this, when you are so fortunate as to have choice of a collecting-ground; and it will guide your steps aright in a day’s walk anywhere, for it will make you leave covert for open, wet for dry, high for low, and back again. Well- watered country is more fruitful of bird-life than desert or prairie ; warm regions are more productive than cold ones. As a rule, variety and abundance of birds are in direct ratio to diversity and luxuriance of vegetation. Your most valuable as well as largest bags may be made in the regions most favoured botanically, up to the point where exuberance of plant-growth mechanically opposes your operations. Search for particular Birds can only be well directed by a knowledge of their special haunts and habits, and is one of the mysteries of wood-craft to be solved by long experience and close observation. Here is where the true naturalist bears himself with conscious pride and strength, winning laurels that become him, and do honour to his calling. Where to find game (“ game” is anything that vulgar people do not ridicule you for shooting) of all the kinds we have in this country has been so often and so minutely detailed in sporting-works that it need not be here enlarged upon, especially since, being the best known, game-birds are the least valuable of ornithological material. Most large or otherwise conspicuous birds have very special haunts that may be soon learned ; and as a rule such rank next after game in ornithological disesteem. Birds of prey are an exception to these statements ; they range everywhere, and most of them are worth securing. Hawks will unwittingly fly in your way oftener than they will allow you to approach them when perched: be ready for them. Owls will be startled out of their retreats in thick bushes, dense foliage, and hollow trees, in the daytime ; if hunting them at night, good aimin the dark may be taken by rubbing a wet lucifer match on the sight of the gun, causing a momentary glimmer. Large and small waders are to be found by any water’s edge, in open marshes, and often on dry SEC. 11 SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 17 plains; the herons more particularly in heavy bogs and dense swamps. Under cover, waders are oftenest approached by stealth ; in the open, by strategy ; but most of the smaller kinds require the exercise of no special precautions. Swimming-birds, aside from water-fowl (as the ‘“‘game” kinds are called), are generally shot from a boat, as they fly past; but at their breeding-places many kinds that congregate in vast numbers are readily reached. There is a knack of shooting loons and grebes on the water; if they are to be reached at all by the shot it will be by aiming not directly at them but at the water just in front of them. They do not go under just where they float, but kick up behind like a jumping-jack and plunge forward. Rails and several kinds of sparrows are confined to reedy marshes. But why prolong such desultory remarks ? Little can be said to the point without at least a miniature treatise on ornithology ; and I have not yet even alluded to the diversified host of small insectivorous and granivorous birds that fill our woods and fields. The very existence of most of these is unknown to all but the initiated; yet they include the treasures of the orni- thologist. Some are plain and humble, others are among the most beautiful objects in nature; but most agree in being small, and therefore liable to be overlooked. The sum of my advice about them must be brief. Get over as much ground, both wooded and open, as you can thoroughly examine in a day’s tramp, and go out as many days as you can. It is not always necessary, however, to keep on the tramp, especially during the migration of the restless insectivorous species. One may often shoot for hours without moving more than a few yards, by selecting a favourable locality and allowing the birds to come to him as they pass in varied troops through the low woodlands or swampy thickets. Keep your eyes and ears wide open. Look out for every rustling leaf and swaying twig and bending blade of grass. Hearken to every note, however faint ; when there is no sound, listen for a chirp. Habitually move as noiselessly as possible. Keep your gun always ready. Improve every opportunity of studying a bird you do not wish to destroy ; you may often make observations more valuable than the specimen. Let this be the rule with all birds you recognise. But I fear I must tell you to shoot an unknown bird on sight ; it may give you the slip in a moment and a prize may be lost. One of the most fascinating things about field-work is its uncertainty ; you never know what’s in store for you as you start out; you never can tell what will happen next; surprises are always in order, and excite- ment is continually whetted on the chances of the varied chase. For myself, the time is past, happily or not, when every bird was an agreeable surprise, for dewdrops do not last all day; but I have never yet walked in the woods without learning something Cc 18 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I pleasant that I did not know before. I should consider a bird new to science ample reward for a month’s steady work ; one bird new to a locality would repay a week’s search ; a day is happily spent that shows me any bird that I never saw alive before. How then can you, with so much before you, keep out of the woods another minute All Times are good times to go a-shooting; but some are better than others. (a) Time of year. In all temperate latitudes, spring and fall—periods of migration with most birds— are the most profitable seasons for collecting. Not only are birds then most numerous, both as species and as individuals, and most active, so as to be the more readily found, but they include a far larger proportion of rare and valuable kinds. In every locality in this country the periodical visitants outnumber the permanent residents ; in most regions the number of regular migrants, that simply pass through in the spring and fall, equals or exceeds that of either of the sets of species that come from the south in spring to breed during the summer, or from the north to spend the winter. Far north, of course, on or near the limit of the vernal migration, where there are few if any migrants, and where the winter birds are extremely few, nearly all the bird-fauna is composed of “summer visitants” ; far south the reverse is somewhat the case, though with many qualifications. Between these extremes, what is conventionally known as ‘a season” means the period of the vernal or autumnal migration. Look out, then, for “the season,” and work all through it at arate you could not possibly sustain the year around. (0) Time of day. Early in the morning and late in the afternoon are the best times for birds. There is a mysterious something in these diurnal crises that sets bird-life astir, over and above what is explain- able by the simple fact that they are the transition periods from repose to activity, or the reverse. Subtle meteorological changes occur; various delicate instruments used in physicists’ researches are sometimes inexplicably disturbed; diseases have often their turning point for better or worse; people are apt to be born or die ; and the susceptible organisms of birds manifest various excite- ments. Whatever the operative influence, the fact is, birds are particularly lively at such hours. In the dark they rest—most of them do ; at noonday, again, they are comparatively still; between these times they are passing to or from their feeding grounds or roosting places; they are foraging for food, they are singing ; at any rate, they are in motion. Many migratory birds (among them warblers, etc.) perform their journeys by night ; just at daybreak they may be seen to descend from the upper regions, rest a while, and then move about briskly, singing and searching for food. Their meal taken, they recuperate by resting till towards evening ; feed again and are off for the night. If you have had some experience, sec. ul SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 19 don’t you remember what a fine spurt you made early that morning ? ~——how many unexpected shots offered as you trudged home belated that evening? Now I am no fowl, and have no desire to adopt the habits of the hen-yard; I have my opinion of those who like the world before it is aired; I think it served the worm right for getting up, when caught by the early bird ; nevertheless I go shoot- ing betimes in the morning, and would walk all night to find a rare bird at daylight. (c) Weather. It rarely occurs in this country that either heat or cold is unendurably severe; but extremes of temperature are unfavourable, for two reasons: they both occasion great personal discomfort; and in one extreme only a few hardy birds will be found, while in the other most birds are languid, dis- posed to seek shelter, and therefore less likely to be found. A \ still, cloudy day of moderate temperature offers as a rule the best chance ; among other reasons, there is no sun to blind the eyes, as always occurs on a bright day in one direction, particularly when the sun is low. While a bright day has its good influence in set- ting many birds astir, some others are most easily approached in heavy or falling weather. Some kinds are more likely to be secured during a light snowfall, or after a storm. Singular as it may seem, a thoroughly wet day offers some peculiar inducements to the col- lector. I cannot well specify them, but I heartily indorse a remark John Cassin once made to me: “I like,” said he, “to go shooting in the rain sometimes ; there are some curious things to be learned about birds when the trees are dripping ; things, too, that have not yet found their way into the books.” How many Birds of the Same Kind do you want ?— All you can get—with some reasonable limitations ; say fifty or a hundred of any but the most abundant and widely diffused species. You may often be provoked with your friend for speaking of some bird he shot, but did not bring you, because, he says, “ Why, you’ve got one like that!” Birdskins are capital; capital unemployed may be useless, but can never be worthless. Birdskins are a medium of exchange among ornithologists the world over; they represent value—money value and scientific value. If you have more of one kind than you can use, exchange with some one for species you lack ; both parties to the transaction are equally benefited. Let me bring this matter under several heads. (a) Your own series of skins of any species is incomplete until it contains at least one example of each sex, of every normal state of plumage, and every normal transition stage of plumage, and further illustrates the principal abnormal variations in size, form, and colour to which the species may be subject; I will even add that every different faunal area the bird is known to inhabit should be represented by a specimen, particularly if there be anything exceptional in the 20 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I geographical distribution of the species. Any additional specimens to all such are your only “duplicates,” properly speaking. (0) Birds vary so much in their size, form, and colouring, that a “ spe- cific character” can only be precisely determined from examination of a large number of specimens, shot at different times, in different places ; still less can the “limits of variation” in these respects be settled without ample materials. (c) The rarity of any bird is an arbitrary and fluctuating consideration, because in the nature of the case there can be no natural unit of comparison, nor standard of appreciation. It may be said, in general terms, no bird is actually “rare.” With a few possible exceptions, as in the cases of birds occupying extraordinarily limited areas, like some of the birds-of- paradise, or about to become extinct, like the pied duck,’ enough birds of all kinds exist to overstock every public and private collec- tion in the world, without sensible diminution of their numbers. “Rarity” or the reverse is only predicable upon the accidental (so to speak) circumstances that throw, or tend to throw, specimens into naturalists’ hands. Accessibility is the variable element in every case. The fulmar petrel? is said (on what authority I know not) to exceed any other bird in its aggregate of individuals ; how do the skins of that bird you have handled compare in number with speci- mens you have seen of the “rare” warbler of your own vicinity ? All birds are common somewhere at some season : the point is, have collectors been there at the time? Moreover, even the arbitrary appreciation of “rarity” is fluctuating, and may change at any time ; long-sought and highly-prized birds are liable to appear suddenly in great numbers in places that knew them not before; a single heavy invoice of a bird from some distant or little- explored region may at once stock the market, and depreciate the current value of the species to almost nothing. For example, Baird’s bunting® and Sprague’s lark‘ remained for thirty years among special desiderata, only one specimen of the former and two or three of the latter being known. Yet they are two of the most abundant birds of Dakota, where in 1873 I took as many of both as I desired ; and specimens enough have lately been secured to stock all the leading museums of both Europe and America. (d) Some practical deductions are to be made from these premises. Your object is to make yourself acquainted with all the birds of your vicinity, and to preserve a complete suite of specimens of every species. Begin by shooting every bird you can, coupling this sad destruction, however, with the closest. observations upon habits. You will very soon fill your series of a few kinds, that you find almost everywhere, almost daily, Then if you are in a 1 Camptolemus labradorius. 2 Fulmarus glacialis. 3 Passerculus (Centronyz) bairdt. + Anthus (Neocorys) spraguet. sec. ul SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 21 region the ornithology of which is well known, at once stop killing these common birds—they are in every collection. Keep an eye on them, studying them always, but turn your actual pursuit into other channels, until in this way, gradually eliminating the un- desirables, you exhaust the bird-fauna as far as possible (you will not quite exhaust it—at least for many years). But if you are in anew or little-known locality, I had almost said the very reverse course is the best. The chances are that the most abundant and character- istic birds there are “rare” in collections. Many a bird’s range is quite restricted: you may happen to be just at its metropolis ; seize the opportunity, and get good store,—yes, up to fifty or a hundred ; all you can spare will be thankfully received by those who have none. Quite as likely, birds that are scarce just where you happen to be, are so only because you are on the edge of their habitat, and are plentiful in more accessible regions. But, rare or not, it is always a point to determine the exact geographical dis- tribution of a species; and this is fixed best by having specimens to tell each its own tale, from as many different and widely-separated localities as possible. This alone warrants procuring one or more specimens in every locality ; the commonest bird acquires a certain value if it be captured away from its ordinary range. But let all your justifiable destruction of birds be tempered with mercy ; your humanity will be continually shocked with the havoc you work, and should never permit you to take life wantonly. Never shoot a bird you do not fully intend to preserve, or to utilise in some proper way. Bird-life is too beautiful a thing to destroy to no purpose ; too sacred a thing, like all life, to be sacrificed, unless the tribute is hallowed by worthiness of motive. “Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without His notice.” I should not neglect to speak particularly of the care to be taken to secure full suites of females. Most miscellaneous collections con- tain four or more males to every female—a disproportion that should be as far reduced as possible. The reason for this disparity is obvious : females are usually more shy and retiring in disposition, and less frequently noticed ; while their smaller size and plainer plumage, as a rule, further favour their concealment. The difference in colour- ing is greatest among those groups where the males are most richly clad, and the shyness of the mother birds is most marked during the breeding season, just when the males, full of song, and in their nuptial attire, become most conspicuous. It is often worth while to neglect the gay Benedicts, to trace out and secure the plainer but not less interesting females. This pursuit, moreover, often leads to discovery of the nests and eggs,— an important consideration. Although both sexes are generally found together when breeding, and mixing indiscriminately at other seasons, they often go in sepa- a2 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I rate flocks, and often migrate independently of each other ; in this case the males usually in advance. Towards the end of the passage of some warblers, for instance, we may get almost nothing but females, all our specimens of a few days before having been males. The notable exceptions to the rule of smaller size of the female are among rapacious birds and many waders, though in these last the disparity is not so marked. I only recall one instance, among English birds, of the female being more richly coloured than the male—the phalaropes. When the sexes are notably different in " adult life, the young of both sexes usually resemble the adult female, the young males gradually assuming their distinctive characters. When the adults of both sexes are alike, the young commonly differ from them. In the same connection I wish to urge a point, the importance of which is often overlooked ; it is our practical interpretation of the adage, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” Always keep the first specimen you secure of a species till you get another, no matter how common the species, how poor the specimen, or how certain you may feel of getting others. Your most reason- able calculations may come to naught, from a variety of circum- stances, and any specimen is better than no specimen, on general principles. And in general, do not, if you can help it, discard any specimen in the field. No tyro can tell what will prove valuable and what not; while even the expert may regret to find that a point comes up which a specimen he injudiciously discarded might have determined. Let a collection be “weeded out,” if at. all, only after deliberate and mature examination, when the scientific results it affords have been elaborated by a competent ornithologist ; and even then, the refuse (with certain limitations) had better be put where it will do some good, than be destroyed utterly. If forced to reduce bulk, owing to limited facilities for transportation in the field (as too often happens), throw away according to size, other things being equal. Given only so many cubic inches or feet, eliminate the few large birds which take up the space that would contain fifty or a hundred different little ones. If you havea fine large eagle or pelican, for instance, throw it away first, and follow it with your ducks, geese, etc. In this way, the bulk of a large miscel- laneous collection may be reduced one-half, perhaps, with very little depreciation of its actual value. The same principle may be extended to other collections in natural history (excepting fossils, which are always weighty, if not also bulky) ; very few birdskins, indeed, being as valuable contributions to science as, for example, a vial of insects that occupies no more room may prove to be. What is “‘ A Good Day’s Work ” ?—Fifty birds shot, their skins preserved, and observations recorded, is a very good day’s work ; it sec. 11 SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 23 is sharp practice, even when birds are plentiful. I never knew a person to average anywhere near it; even during the “season” such work cannot possibly be sustained. You may, of course, by a murderous discharge into a flock, get a hundred or more in a moment; but I refer to collecting a fair variety of birds. You will do very well if you average a dozen a day during the seasons. I doubt whether any collector ever averaged as many the year around ; it would be over four thousand specimens annually. The greatest number I ever procured and prepared in one day was forty, and I have not often gone over twenty. Even when collecting regularly and assiduously, I am satisfied to average a dozen a day during the migrations, and one-third or one-fourth as many the rest of the year. Probably this implies the shooting of about one in five not skinned for various reasons, as mutilation, decay, or want of time. Approaching Birds.—There is little if any trouble in getting near enough to shoot most birds. With notable exceptions, they are harder to see when near enough, or to hit when seen; particularly small birds that are almost incessantly in motion. As a rule—and a curious one it is—difficulty of approach is in direct ratio to the size of the bird ; it is perhaps because large conspicuous birds are objects of more general pursuit than the little ones you ordinarily search for. The qualities that birds possess for self-preservation may be called wariness in large birds, shyness in small ones. The former make off knowingly from a suspicious object ; the latter fly from anything that is strange to them, be it dangerous or not. This is strikingly illustrated in the behaviour of small birds in the wilderness, as contrasted with their actions about towns; they are more timid under the former circumstances than when grown accustomed to the presence of man. It is just the reverse with a hawk or raven, for instance ; in populous districts they spend much of their time in trying to save their skins, while in a new country they have not learned, like Indians, that a white man is “mighty uncertain.” In stealing on a shy bird, you will of course take ad- vantage of any cover that may offer, as inequalities of the ground, thick bushes, the trunks of trees; and it is often worth while to make a considerable détour to secure unobserved approach. I think that birds are more likely, as a rule, to be frightened away by the movements of the collector, than by his simple presence, however near, and that they are more afraid of noise than of mere motion. Crackling of twigs and rustling of leaves are sharp sounds, though not loud ones; you may have sometimes been surprised to find how distinctly you could hear the movements of a horse or cow in underbrush at some distance. Birds have sharp ears for such - sounds. Form a habit of stealthy movement; it tells, in the long run, in comparison with lumbering tread. There are no special 24 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I precautions to be taken in shooting through high open forest ; you have only to saunter along with your eyes in the tree-tops. It is ordinarily the easiest and on the whole the most remunerative path of the collector. In traversing fields and meadows move briskly, your principal object being to flush birds out of the grass ; and as most of your shots will be snap ones, keep in readiness for instant action. Excellent and varied shooting is to be had along the hedgerows, and in the rank herbage that fringes fences. It is best to keep at a little distance, yet near enough to arouse all the birds as you pass; you may catch them on wing, or pick them off just as they settle after a short flight. In this shooting, two persons, one on each side, can together do more than twice as much work as one. Thickets and tangled undergrowth are favourite resorts of many birds; but when very close, or, as often happens, over miry ground, they are hard places to shoot in. As you come thrashing through the brush, the little inhabitants are scared into deeper recesses ; but if you keep still a few minutes in some favourable spot, they are reassured, and will often come back to take a peep at you. A good deal of standing still will repay you at such times ; needless to add, you cannot be too lightly loaded for such shooting, when birds are mostly out of sight if a dozen yards off. When yourself concealed: in a thicket, and no birds appear, you can often call numbers about you by a simple artifice. Apply the back of your hand to your slightly parted lips, and suck in air; it makes a nondescript screeping noise, variable in intonation at your whim, and some of the sounds resemble the cries of a wounded bird, or a young one in distress. It wakes up the whole neigh- bourhood, and sometimes puts certain birds almost beside them- selves, particularly in the breeding season. Torturing a wounded bird to make it scream in agony accomplishes the same result, but of course is only permissible under great exigency. In penetrating swamps and marshes, the best advice I can give you is to tell you to get along the best way you can. Shooting on perfectly open ground offers much the same case; you must be left to your own devices. I will say, however, you can ride on horseback, or even in a buggy, nearer birds than they will allow you to walk up to them. Sportsmen take advantage of this to get within a shot of the upland plover, usually a very wary bird in populous districts ; I have driven right into a flock of wild geese ; in California they often train a bullock to graze gradually up to geese, the gunner being hidden by its body. There is one trick worth knowing ; it is not to let a bird that has seen you know by your action that you have seen #, but to keep on unconcernedly, gradually sidling nearer. I have secured many hawks in this way, when the bird would have flown off at the first step of direct approach. Number- sec. ul SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 25 less other little arts will come to you as your wood-craft matures. Recovering Birds.—It is not always that you secure the birds you kill; you may not be able to find them, or you may see them lying, perhaps but a few feet off, in a spot practically inaccessible. Under such circumstances a retriever does excellent service, as already hinted ; he is equally useful when a bird properly ‘‘ marked down” is not found there, having fluttered or run away and hidden elsewhere. The most difficult of all places to find birds is among reeds, the sameness of which makes it almost impossible to redis- cover a spot whence the eye has once wandered, while the peculiar growth allows birds to slip far down out of sight. _In-rank grass or weeds, when you have walked up with your eye fixed on the spot where the bird seemed to fall, yet failed to discover it, drop your cap or handkerchief for a mark, and hunt around it as a centre, in enlarging circles. In thickets, make a bee-line for the spot, if possible keeping your eye on the spray from which the bird fell, and not forgetting where you stood on firing; you may require to come back to the spot and take a new departure. You will not seldom see a bird just shot at fly off as if unharmed, when really it will drop dead in a few moments. In all cases, therefore, when the bird does not drop at the shot, follow it with your eyes as far as you can; if you see it finally drop, or even flutter languidly down- ward, mark it on the principles just mentioned, and go in search. Make every endeavour to secure wounded birds, on the score of humanity ; they should not be left to pine away and die in linger- ing misery if it can possibly be avoided. Killing Wounded Birds.—You will often recover winged birds, as full of life as before the bone was broken ; and others too griev- ously hurt to fly, yet far from death. Your object is to kill them as quickly and painlessly as possible, without injuring the plumage. This is to be accomplished, with all small birds, by suffocation. The respiration and circulation of birds is very active, and most of them die in a few moments if the lungs are so compressed that / they cannot breathe. Squeeze the bird tightly across the chest, under the wings, thumb on one side, middle finger on the other, forefinger pressed in the hollow at the root of the neck, between the forks of the merrythought. Press firmly, hard enough to fix the chest immovably and compress the lungs, but not to break in the ribs. The bird will make vigorous but ineffectual efforts to breathe, when the muscles will contract spasmodically ; but in a moment more, the system relaxes with a painful shiver, light fades from the eyes, and the lids close. I assure you, it will make you wince the first few times; you had better hold the poor creature behind you. You can tell by its limp feel and motionlessness when 26 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I it is dead, without watching the sad struggle. Large birds cannot be dealt with in this way; I would as soon attempt to throttle a dog as a loon, for instance, upon which all the pressure you can give makes no sensible impression. A winged hawk, again, will throw itself on its back as you come up, and show such good fight with beak and talons, that you may be quite severely scratched in the encounter: meanwhile the struggling bird may be bespattering its plumage with blood. In such a case—in any case of a large bird making decided resistance—I think it best to step back a few paces and settle the matter with a light charge of mustard-seed. Any large bird once secured may be speedily despatched by stabbing to the heart with some slender instrument thrust in under the wing—care must be taken too about the bleeding ; or, it may be instantly killed by piercing the brain with a knife introduced into the mouth and driven upward and obliquely backward from the palate. The latter method is preferable, as it leaves no outward sign and causes no bleeding to speak of. With your thumb, you may indent the back part of a small bird’s skull so as to compress the cerebellum, which causes instant death. Itis useless to compress , the windpipe of a bird whose wing is broken near the shoulder, for the bone is hollow, and the bird can breathe through it. Handling Bleeding Birds.—Bleeding depends altogether upon what part or organ is wounded; but, other things being equal, violence of the hemorrhage is usually in direct proportion to the size of the shot-hole ; when mustard-seed is used it is ordinarily very trifling, if it occur at all. Blood flows oftener from the orifice of exit of a shot, than from the wound of entrance, for the latter is usually plugged with a little wad of feathers. Bleeding from the mouth or nostrils is the rule when the lungs are wounded. When it occurs, hold up the bird by the feet, and let it drip; a general squeeze of the body in that position will facilitate the drainage. In general, hold a bird so that a bleeding place is most dependent ; then, pressure about the part will help the flow. A “gob” of blood, which is simply a forming clot, on the plumage may often be dexterously flipped almost clean away with a snap of the finger. It is first-rate practice to take cotton and forceps into the field to plug up shot-holes, and stop the mouth and nostrils and vent on the spot. I follow the custom of the books in recommending this, but I suspect that only a few of the most leisurely and elegant collectors do so habitually. Shot-holes may be found by gently raising the feathers, or blowing them aside ; you can of course get only a tiny plug into the wound itself, but it should be one end of a sizable pledget, the rest lying fluffy among the feathers. In stopping the mouth or vent, ram the fluff of cotton entirely inside. You cannot conveniently stop up the nostrils of small birds sepa- Sec. ur SUGGESTIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FIELD-WORK 27 rately ; but take a light cylinder of cotton, lay it transversely across the base of the upper mandible, closely covering the nostrils, and confine it there by tucking each end tightly into the corner of the mouth. In default of such nice fixing as this, a pinch of dry loam pressed on a bleeding spot will plaster itself there and stop further mischief. Never try to wipe off fresh blood that has already wetted the plumage; you will only make matters worse. Let it dry on, and then—but the treatment of blood-stains, and other soilings of plumage, is given beyond. Carrying Birds Home Safe.—Suppose you have secured a fine specimen, very likely without a soiled or ruffled feather ; your next care will be to keep it so till you are ready to skin it. But if you pocket or bag it directly, it will be a sorry-looking object before you get home. Tach specimen must be separately cared for, by wrapping in stout paper; writing paper is as good as any, if not the best. It will repay you to prepare a stock of paper before starting out; your most convenient sizes are those of a half-sheet of note, of letter, and of cap respectively. Hither take these, or fold and cut newspaper to correspond. Plenty of paper will go in the breast pockets of the shooting coat. Make a “cornucopia,” — the simplest thing in the world, but, like tying a particular knot, hard to explain. Setting the wings closely, adjusting disturbed feathers, and seeing that the bill points straight forward, thrust the bird head-first into one of these paper cones, till it will go no farther, being bound by the bulge of the breast. Let the cone be large enough for the open end to fold over or pinch together entirely beyond the tail. Be particular not to crumple or bend the tail- feathers. Lay the paper cases in the game bag or great pocket so that they very nearly run parallel and lie horizontal; they will carry better than if thrown in at random. Avoid overcrowding the packages, as far as is reasonably practicable ; moderate pressure will do no harm, but if great it may make birds bleed afresh, or cause the fluids of a wounded intestine to ooze out and soak the plumage of the belly,—a very bad accident indeed. For similar obvious reasons, do not puta large heavy bird on top of a lot of little ones ; I would sooner sling a hawk or heron over my shoulder, or carry it by hand. If it goes in the bag, see that it gets to the bottom. Avoid putting birds in pockets that are close about your person; they are almost always unduly pressed, and may gain enough additional warmth from your body to make them begin to decompose before you are ready to skin them. Handle birds no more than is necessary, especially white-plumaged ones; ten to one your hands are powder-begrimed: and besides, even the warmth and moisture of your palms may tend to injure a delicate feather- ing. Ordinarily pick up a bird by the feet or bill; as you need 28 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I both hands to make the cornucopia, let the specimen dangle by the toes from your teeth while you are so employed. In catching at a wounded bird, aim to cover it entirely with your hand; but what- ever you do, never seize it by the tail, which then will often be left in your hands for your pains. Never grasp wing-tips or tail- feathers ; these large flat quills would get a peculiar crimping all along the webs, very difficult to efface.. Finally, I would add, there is a certain knack or art in manipulating, either of a dead bird or a birdskin, by which you may handle it with seeming carelessness and perfect impunity; whilst the most gingerly fingering of an inexperienced person will leave its rude trace. You will naturally acquire the correct touch ; but it can be neither taught nor described. While the ordinary run of land-birds will be brought home in good order by the foregoing method, some require special precautions. I refer to sea-birds, such as gulls, terns, petrels, etc., shot from a boat. In the first place, the plumage of most of them is, in part at least, white and of exquisite purity. Then, fish-eating birds usually vomit and purge when shot. They are necessarily fished all dripping from the water. They are too large for pocketing. If you put them on the thwarts or elsewhere about the boat, they usually fall off, or are knocked off, into the bilge water ; if you stow them in the cubby-hole, they will assuredly soil by mutual pressure, or by rolling about. It will repay you to pick them from the water by the bill, and shake off all the water you can; hold them up, or let some one do it, till they are tolerably dry; plug the mouth, nostrils, and vent, if not also shot-holes; wrap each one separately in a cloth (not paper) or a mass of tow, and pack steadily in a covered box or basket taken on board for this purpose. With such precautions as these, birds most liable to be soiled reach the skinning-table in perfect order ; and your care will afterward trans- form them into specimens without spot or blemish. § 4.—HYGIENE OF COLLECTORSHIP It is unnecessary to speak of the Healthfulness of a pursuit that, like the collector’s occupation, demands regular bodily exercise, and at the same time stimulates the mind by supplying an object, thus calling the whole system into exhilarating action. Yet collect- ing has its perils, not to be overlooked if we would adequately guard against them, as fortunately we may, in most cases, by simple precautions. The dangers of taxidermy itself are elsewhere noticed ; but, besides these, the collector is exposed to vicissitudes of the weather, may endure great fatigue, may breathe miasm, and may be mechanically injured. SEC. IV HYGIENE OF COLLECTORSHIP 29 Aceidents from the Gun have been already noticed; a few special rules will render others little liable to occur. The secret of safe climbing is never to relax one hold until another is secured ; it is equally applicable to scrambling over rocks, a particularly difficult thing to do safely with a loaded gun. Test rotten, slippery, or otherwise suspicious holds before trusting them. In lifting the body up anywhere, keep the mouth shut, breathe through the nostrils, and go slowly. In swimming, waste no strength unneces- sarily in trying to stem a current; yield partly, and land obliquely lower down; if exhausted, float; the slightest motion of the hands will ordinarily keep the face above water ; and in any event keep your wits collected. In fording deeply, a heavy stone will strengthen your position. Never sail a boat experimentally; if you are no sailor, take one with you or stay on land. In crossing a high, narrow footpath, never look lower than your feet ; the muscles will work true if not confused with faltering instructions from a giddy brain. On soft ground, see what, if anything, has preceded you; large hoof-marks generally mean that the way is safe; if none are found, inquire for yourself before going on. Quicksand is the most treacherous, because far more dangerous than it looks. Cattle- paths, however erratic, commonly prove the surest way out of a difficult place, whether of uncertain footing or dense undergrowth. Miasm.—Unguarded exposure in malarious regions usually entails sickness, often preventable, however, by due precautions. 1t is worth knowing, in the first place, that miasmatic poison is most powerful between sunset and sunrise ; more exactly, from the damp of the evening until night-vapours are dissipated; we may be out in the daytime with comparative impunity, where to pass a night would be almost certain disease. If forced to camp out, seek the highest and driest spot, put a good -fire on the swamp side, and also, if possible, let trees intervene. Never go out on an empty stomach; just a cup of coffee and a crust may make a decided difference. Meet the earliest unfavourable symptoms with quinine; I should rather say, if unacclimated, anticipate them with this invaluable agent. Endeavour to maintain high health of all functions by the natural means of regularity and temperance in diet, exercise, and repose. “Taking Cold.”—This vague “household word” indicates one or more of a long varied train of unpleasant affections, nearly always traceable to one or the other of only two causes : sudden change of temperature, and unequal distribution of temperature on the surface of the person. No extremes of heat or cold can alone effect this result; persons frozen to death do not “take cold” during the process. But if a part of the body be rapidly cooled, as by evaporation from a wet article of clothing, or by sitting in a 30 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I draught of air, the rest of the surface remaining at an ordinary temperature ; or if the temperature of the whole be suddenly changed by going out into the cold, or by coming into a warm room, there is much liability of trouble. There is an old saying— When the air comes through a hole Say your prayers to save your soul ; and I should think almost any one could get “a cold” with a spoonful of water on the wrist held to a key-hole. Singular as it may seem, sudden warming when cold is more dangerous than the reverse; every one has noticed how soon the handkerchief is required on entering a heated room onacold day. Frost-bite offers an extreme illustration of this. As the Irishman said on picking himself up, it was not the fall, but stopping so quickly, that hurt him; it is not the gradual lowering of the temperature to the freezing-point, but its subsequent sudden elevation, that devitalises the tissue. This is why rubbing with snow, or bathing in cold water, is required to restore safely a frozen part; the arrested circulation must be very gradually re-established, or inflammation, perhaps mortification, ensues. General precautions against taking cold are almost self-evident in this light. There is ordinarily little if any danger to be apprehended from wet clothes, so long as exercise is kept up; for the glow compensates for the extra cooling by evaporation. Nor is a complete drenching more likely to be injurious than wetting of one part. But never sit still wet; and in changing rub the body dry. There is a general tendency, springing from fatigue, indolence, or indifference, to neglect. damp feet; that is to say, to dry them by the fire; but this process is tedious and uncertain. I would say especially, off with the muddy boots and sodden socks at once ; dry stockings and slippers, after a hunt, may make just the difference of your being able to go out again or never. Take care never to check perspiration; during this process, the body is in a somewhat critical condition, and sudden arrest of the function may result disastrously, even fatally. One part of the business of perspiration is to equalise bodily temperature, and it must not be interfered with. ‘The secret of much that might be said about bathing when heated lies here. A person overheated, panting it may be, with throbbing temples, and a dry skin, is in danger partly because the natural cooling by evaporation from the skin is denied, and this condition is sometimes not far from a sunstroke. Under these circumstances, a person of fairly good constitution may plunge into the water with impunity, even with benefit. But if the body be already cooling by sweating, rapid abstraction of heat from the surface may cause internal congestion, never unattended with danger. Drinking ice-water SEC. IV HYGIENE OF COLLECTORSHIP 31 offers a somewhat parallel case; even on stooping to drink at the brook, when flushed with heat, it is well to bathe the face and hands first, and to taste the water before a full draught. It isa well-known excellent rule, not to bathe immediately after a full meal; because during digestion the organs concerned are compara- tively engorged, and any sudden disturbance of the circulation may be disastrous. The imperative necessity of resisting drowsiness under extreme cold requires no comment. In walking under a hot sun, the head may be sensibly protected by green leaves or grass in the hat; they may be advantageously moistened, but not enough to drip about the ears. Under such circumstances the slightest giddiness, dimness of sight, or confusion of ideas, should be taken as a warning of possible sunstroke, instantly demanding rest and shelter. Hunger and Fatigue are more closely related than they might seem to be; one is a sign that the fuel is out, and the other asks for it. Extreme fatigue, indeed, destroys appetite ; this simply means, temporary incapacity for digestion. But even far short of this, food is more easily digested and better relished after a little preparation of the furnace. On coming home tired, it is much better to make a leisurely and reasonably nice toilet than to eat at once, or to sit still thinking how tired you are; after a change and a wash you will feel like a “new man,” and go to table in capital state. Whatever dietetic irregularities a high state of civilisation may demand or render practicable, a normally healthy person is inconvenienced almost as soon as his regular meal-time passes with- out food ; a few can work comfortably or profitably fasting over six or eight hours. Eat before starting; if for a day’s tramp, take a lunch ; the most frugal meal will appease if it do not satisfy hunger, and so postpone its urgency. As a small scrap of practical wisdom, I would add, keep the remnants of the lunch, if there are any ; for you cannot always be sure of getting in to supper. Stimulation.—When cold, fatigued, depressed in mind, and on other occasions, you may feel inclined to resort to artificial stimulus. Respecting this many-sided theme I have a few words to offer of direct bearing on the collector’s case. It should be clearly under- stood in the first place that a stimulant confers no strength what- ever; it simply calls the powers that be into increased action at their own expense. Seeking real strength in stimulus is as wise as an attempt to lift yourself up by the boot-straps. You may gather yourself to leap the ditch and you clear it; but no such muscular energy can be sustained ; exhaustion speedily renders further ex- penditure impossible. But now suppose a very powerful mental impression be made, say the circumstance of a succession of ditches in front, and a mad dog behind; if the stimulus of terror be suffi- 32 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I ciently strong, you may leap on till you drop senseless. Alcoholic stimulus is a parallel case, and is not seldom pushed to the same extreme. Under its influence you never can tell when you are tired; the expenditure goes on, indeed, with unnatural rapidity, only it is not felt at the time; but the upshot is you have all the original fatigue to endure and to recover from, plus the fatigue resulting from over-excitation of the system. Taken asa fortification against cold, alcohol is as unsatisfactory as a remedy for fatigue. Insensibility to cold does not imply protection. The fact is the exposure is greater than before; the circulation and respiration being hurried, the waste is greater, and as sound fuel cannot be immediately supplied, the temperature of the body is soon lowered. The transient warmth and glow over, the system has both cold and depression to endure; there is no use in borrowing from yourself and fancying you are richer. Secondly, the value of any stimulus (except in a few exigencies of disease or injury) is in proportion, not to the intensity, but to the equableness and durability of its effect. This is one reason why tea, coffee, and articles of corre- sponding qualities are preferable to alcoholic drinks; they work so smoothly that their effect is often unnoticed, and they “stay by” well ; the friction of alcohol is tremendous in comparison. A glass of grog may help a veteran over the fence, but no one, young or old, can shoot all day on liquor. I have had so much experience in the use of tobacco as a mild stimulant that I am probably no impartial judge of its merits: I will simply say I do not use it in the field, because it indisposes to muscular activity, and favours reflection when observation is required; and because temporary abstinence provokes the morbid appetite and renders the weed more grateful afterwards. Thirdly, undue excitation of any physical function is followed by corresponding depression, on the simple principle that action and reaction are equal; and the balance of health turns too easily to be wilfully disturbed. Stimulation is a draft upon vital capital, when interest alone should suffice; it may be needed at times to bridge a chasm, but habitual living beyond vital income infallibly entails bankruptcy in health. The use of alcohol in health seems practically restricted to purposes of sensuous gratifica- tion on the part of those prepared to pay a round price for this luxury. The three golden rules here are,—never drink before breakfast, never drink alone, and never drink bad liquor ; their observance may make even the abuse of alcohol tolerable. Serious objections, for a naturalist at least, are that science, viewed through a drinking-glass, seems distant and uncertain, while the pleasure of drinking is immediate and unquestionable ; and that intemperance, being an attempt to defy certain physical laws, is therefore eminently unscientific. SEC. V REGISTRATION AND LABELLING 33 § 5.—REGISTRATION AND LABELLING A mere Outline of a Field Naturalist’s Duties would be in- excusably incomplete without mention of these important matters ; and, because so much of the business of collecting must be left to be acquired in the school of experience, I am the more anxious to give explicit directions whenever, as in this instance, it is possible to do so. Record your Observations Daily.—In one sense the specimens themselves are your record,—prima facie evidence of your industry and ability ; and if labelled as I shall presently advise, they tell no small part of the whole story. But this is not enough ; indeed, I am not sure that an ably conducted ornithological journal is not the better half of your operations. Under your editorship of labelling, specimens tell what they know about themselves; but you can tell much more yourself. Let us look at a day’s work: You have shot and skinned so many birds, and laid them away labelled. You have made observations about them before shooting, and have observed a number of birds that you did not shoot. You have items of haunts and habits, abundance or scarcity; of manners and actions under special circumstances, as of pairing, nesting, laying, rearing young, feeding, migrating, and what not ; various notes of birds are still ringing in your ears ; and finally, you may have noted the absence of species you saw a while before, or had expected to occur in your vicinity. Meteorological and topo- graphical items, especially when travelling, are often of great assist- ance in explaining the occurrences and actions of birds. Now you know these things, but very likely no one else does; and you know them at the time, but you will not recollect a tithe of them in a few weeks or months, to say nothing of years. Don’t trust your memory; it will trip you up ; what is clear now will grow obscure ; what is found will be lost. Write down everything while it is fresh in your mind; write it out in full; time so spent will be time saved in the end, when you offer your researches to the discriminating public. Don’t be satisfied with a dry-as-dust item; clothe a skeleton fact, and breathe life into it with thoughts that glow ; let the paper smell of the woods. There’s a pulse in a new fact; catch the rhythm before it dies. Keep off the quicksands of mere memorandum—that means something “to be remembered,” which is just what you cannot do. Shun abbreviations ; such keys rust with disuse, and may fail in after times to unlock the secret that should have been laid bare in the beginning. Use no signs intel- ligible only to yourself ; your note-books may come to be overhauled by others whom you would not wish to disappoint. Be sparing of D 34 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I sentiment, a delicate thing, easily degraded to drivel ; crude enthusi- asm always hacks instead of hewing. Beware of literary infelicities ; “the written word remains,” it may be, after you have passed away ; put down nothing for your friend’s blush, or your enemy’s sneer ; write as if a stranger were looking over your shoulder. Ornithological Book-keeping may be left to your discretion and good taste in the details of execution. Each may consult his preferences for rulings, headings, and blank forms of all sorts, as well as particular modes of entry. But my experience has been that the entries it is advisable to make are too multifarious to be accommodated by the most ingenious formal ruling ; unless, indeed, you make the conventional heading “ Remarks” disproportionately wide, and commit to it everything not otherwise provided for. My preference is decidedly for a plain page. I use a strongly bound blank book, cap size, containing at least six or eight quires of good smooth paper; but smaller may be needed for travelling, even down to a pocket note-book. I would not advise a multiplicity of books, splitting up your record into different departments: let it be journal and register of specimens combined. (The registry of your own collecting has nothing to do with the register of your cabinet of birds, which is sure to include a proportion of specimens from other sources, received in exchange, donated, or purchased. I speak of this beyond.) I have found it convenient to commence a day’s record with a register of the specimens secured, each entry consisting of a duplicate of the bird’s label (see beyond), accompanied by any further remarks I have to make respecting the particular specimens ; then to go on with the full of my day’s observations, as suggested in the last paragraph. You thus have a register of collections in chronological order, told off with an unbroken series of numbers, checked with the routine label-items, and continually interspersed with the balance of your ornithological studies. Since your private field-number is sometimes an indispensable clew to the authentication of a specimen after it has left your own hands, never duplicate it. If you are collecting other objects of natural history besides birds, still have but one series of numbers; duly enter your mammal, or mineral, or whatever it is, in its place, with the number under which it happens to fall. Be scrupulously accurate with these and all other figures, as of dates and measurements. Always use black ink ; lead-pencilling is never safe. Labelling.—This should never be neglected. It is enough to make a sensitive ornithologist shiver to see a specimen without that indispensable appendage—a label. Iam sorry to observe that the routine labelling of most collections is far from being satisfactory. A well-appointed label is something more than a slip of paper with the bird’s name on it, and is still defective if, as is too often the SEC. V REGISTRATION AND LABELLING 35 case, only the locality and collector are added. A complete label records the following particulars: 1. Title of the survey, voyage, exploration, or other expedition (if any), during which the specimen was collected. 2. Name of the person in charge of the same (and it may be remarked that the less he really cares about birds, and the less he actually interests himself to procure them, the more particular he will be about this). 3. Title of the institution or association (if any) under the auspices or patronage of which the specimen was procured, or for which it is designed. 4. Name of collector ; partly to give credit where it is due, but principally to fix responsibility, and authenticate the rest of the items. 5. Collector's number, referring to his note-book, as just explained ; if the specimen afterwards forms part of a general collection it usually acquires another number by new registry; the collector's then becoming the “ original,” as distinguished from the “current,” number. 6. Locality, perhaps the most important of all the items. A specimen of unknown or even uncertain origin is worthless or nearly so. Lamentable confusion has only too often arisen in ornithological writings from vague or erroneous indications of locality. I should say that a specimen not authentic in this particular had better have its supposed origin erased. Nor will it do to say simply, for instance, “North America” or “England.” The general geographical distribution of birds being according to recognised faunal areas, ornithologists generally know already the quarter of the globe from which any bird comes; the locality of particular specimens, therefore, should be fixed down to the very spot. If this be obscure, add the name of the nearest place to be found on a fairly good map, giving distance and direction. 7. Date of collection, —day of the month, and year. Among other reasons for this may be mentioned the fact that it is often important to know what season a particular plumage indicates. 8. Sew, and if possible also age, of the specimen,—an item that bespeaks its own import- ance. Ornithologists of all countries are agreed upon certain signs to indicate the sex. These are: g for male, 9 for femnale,—the symbols respectively of Mars and Venus. Immaturity is often denoted by the sign ,; thus, ¢ ,, young male. Or, we may write Q ad., 2 yg., for adult female, young female, respectively. It is preferable, however, to use the language of science, not our vernacular, and say 3 juv. (juvenis, young). Nupt. signifies breed- ing plumage; hornof. means a bird of the year. 9. Measure- ments of length, and of extent of wings; the former can only be obtained approximately, and the latter not at all, from a prepared specimen. 10. Colowr of the eyes, and of the bill, feet, or other naked or soft parts, the tints of which may change in drying. 11. Miscellaneous particulars, such as contents of stomach, special 36 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I circumstances of capture, vernacular name, etc. 12. Scientific name of the bird. This is really the least important item of all, though generally thought to take precedence. But a bird labels itself, so to speak; and nature’s label may be deciphered at any time. In fact, I would enjoin upon the collector not to write out the supposed name of the bird in the field, unless the species is so well known as to be absolutely unquestionable. Proper identification, in any case to which the slightest doubt may attach, can only be made after critical study in the closet with ample facilities for examination and comparison. But it is always well to note on the label the local vernacular name; for native names, especially un-English ones, may become valuable items of information. The first eight items above, and the twelfth, usually constitute the face or obverse of a label ; the rest are commonly written on the back or reverse side. Labels should be of light cardboard, or very stiff writing paper; they may be dressed attractively, as fancy suggests ; the general items of a large number of specimens are best printed; the special ones must of course be written. Shape is immaterial. A slip about three inches long and two-thirds of an inch wide will do very well for anything, from a hawk to a humming-bird. Something like the shipping-tag used by merchants is excellent, particularly for larger objects. It seems most natural to attach the string to the left-hand end. The slip should be tied so as to swing just clear of the bird’s legs, but not loose enough to dangle several inches, for in that case the labels are continually tangling with each other when the birds are laid away in drawers. The following forms show the face and back of the last label I happened to write before these lines were originally penned; they represent the size and shape that I find most convenient for general purposes ; while the legend illustrates every one of the twelve items above specified. Explorations in Dakota, Dr. Elliott Coues, U.S.A. No. 2655. Buteo borealis (Gm.) V. 9 juv. Fort Randall, Missouri River. Oct. 29, 1872. Smithsonian “mOTyN4ISUT Obverse. 23.00 x 53.00 x 17.50. — Eyes yellowish -gray; bill horn- blue, darker at tip; cere wax-yellow; tarsi dull yellowish; claws bluish -black. Stomach contained portions of a rabbit; also, a large tapeworm. Reverse. SEC, V REGISTRATION AND LABELLING 37 Directions for Measurement may be inserted here, as this matter pertains rightfully to the recording of specimens. The following instructions apply not only to length and extent, but to the principal other dimensions, which may be taken at any time. For large birds, a tape-line showing inches and fourths will do; for smaller ones, a foot-rule graduated for inches and eighths, or better, decimals to hundredths, must be used ; and for all nice measurements the dividers are indispensable. Length: Distance between the tip of the bill and end of the longest tail-feather. Lay the bird on its back on the ruler on a table; take hold of the bill with one hand and of both legs with the other; pull with reasonable force to get the curve all out of the neck; hold the bird thus with the tip of the bill flush with one end of the ruler, and see where the end of the tail points. Put the tape-line in place of the ruler, in the same way, for larger birds. Hxtent: Distance between the tips of the outspread wings. They must be fully outstretched, with the bird on its back, crosswise on the ruler, its bill pointing to your breast. Take hold of right and left metacarpus with the thumb and forefinger of your left and right hand respectively, stretch with reasonable force, getting one wing-tip flush with one end of the ruler, and see how far the other wing-tip reaches. With large birds pull as hard as you please, and use the table, floor, or side of the room; mark the points and apply tape-line. Length of wing: Distance from the carpal angle formed at the bend of the wing to the end of the longest primary. Take it with compasses for small birds. In birds with a convex wing, do not lay the tape-line over the curve, but under the wing ina straight line. This measure- ment is the one called, for short, “the wing.” Length of tail: Distance from the roots of the rectrices to the end of the longest one. Feel for the pope’s-nose ; in either a fresh or dried specimen there is more or less of a palpable lump into which the tail-feathers stick. Guess as near as you can to the middle of this lump; place the end of the ruler opposite this point, and see where the tip of the longest tail-feather comes. Length of bill: Some take the curve of the upper mandible; others the side of the upper mandible from the feathers; others the gape, etc. I take the chord of the culmen. Place one foot of the dividers on the culmen just where the feathers end; no matter whether the culmen runs up on the forehead, or the frontal feathers run out on the culmen, and no matter whether the culmen is straight or curved. Then with me the length of the bill is the shortest distance from the point just indicated to the tip of the upper mandible: measure it with the dividers. In a straight bill of course it is the length of the culmen itself; in a curved bill, however, it is quite another thing. Length of tarsus: Distance between the joint of the tarsus with the leg above, and 38 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I that with the first phalanx of the middle toe below. Measure it always with dividers, and in front of the leg. Length of toes: Distance in a straight line along the upper surface of a toe from the point last indicated to the root of the claw on top. Length of toe is to be taken without the claw, unless otherwise specified. Length of the claws: Distance in a straight line from the point last indicated to the tip of the claw. Length of head is often a convenient dimension for comparison with the bill. Set one foot of the dividers over the base of the culmen (determined as above) and allow the other to slip snugly down over the arch of the occiput. § 6.—INSTRUMENTS, MATERIALS, AND FIXTURES FOR PREPARING BIRDSKINS Instruments.—The only indispensable instrument is a pair of scissors or a knife; practically, you want both of these, a pair of spring-forceps, and a knitting-needle, or some similar wooden or ivory object. I have made hundreds of birdskins consecutively without touching another tool. Persicos odi, puer, apparatus / I always mistrust the emphasis of a collector who makes a flourish of instruments. You might be surprised to see what a meagre, shabby- looking kit our best taxidermists work with. Stick to your scissors, knife, forceps, and needle. But you may as well buy, at the outset, a common dissecting-case, such as medical students begin business with ; it is very cheap, and if there are some unnecessary things in it, it makes a nice little box in which to keep your tools. The case contains, among other things, several scalpels, just the knives you want ; a “ cartilage-knife,” which is nothing but a stout scalpel, suit- able for large birds ; the best kind of scissors for your purpose, with short blades and long handles—if kneed at the hinge so much the better ; spring forceps, the very thing; a blow-pipe, useful in many ways and answering instead of a knitting-needle ; and some little steel hooks, chained together, which you may want to use. But you will also require, for large birds, a very heavy pair of scissors, or small shears, short-bladed and long-handled, and a stout pair of bone nippers. Have some pins and needles ; surgical needles, which cut instead of punching, are the best. Get a hone or strop, if you wish, and a feather-duster. Use of scissors requires no comment, and I would urge their habitual employ instead of the knife-blade ; I do nine-tenths of my cutting with scissors, and find it much the easiest. A double-lever is twice as effective as a single one. More- over, scalpels need constant sharpening ; mine are generally too dull sec. VI INSTRUMENTS, ETC., FOR PREPARING BIRDSKINS 39 to cut much with, and I suppose I am like other people—while scissors stay sharp enough. The flat, thin ivory or ebony handle of the scalpel is about as useful as the blade. Finger-nails, which were made before scalpels, are a mighty help. Forceps are almost indis- pensable for seizing and holding parts too small or too remote to be grasped by the fingers. The knitting-needle is wanted for a specific purpose noted beyond. The shears or nippers are only needed for what the ordinary scissors are too weak to do. Materials.—(a) For stuffing. ‘What do you stuff’em with?” is usually the first question of idle curiosity about taxidermy, as if that were the great point ; whereas the stuffing is so small a matter that one might reply, “ Anything, except brickbats!” But if stuffing birds were the final cause of cotton, that admirable substance could not be more perfectly adapted than it is to the purpose. Ordinary raw cotton-batting or wadding is what you want. When I can get it I never think of using anything else for small birds. I would use it for all birds were expense no object. Here tow comes in; there is a fine, clean, bleached article of tow prepared for surgical dressings ; this is the best, but any will do. Some say chop your tow fine ; this is harmless, but unnecessary. A crumpled newspaper, wrapped with tow, is first-rate for a large bird. Failing cotton or tow, any soft, light, dry, vegetable substance may be made to answer,—rags, paper, crumbled leaves, fine dried grass, soft fibrous inner bark, etc.; the down of certain plants, as thistle and silkweed, makes an exquisite filling for small birds. But I will qualify my remark about brick- bats by saying: Never put hair, wool, feathers, or any other ANIMAL substance in a birdskin ; far better leave it empty: for, as we shall see in the sequel, bugs come fast enough, without being invited into a snug nest. (b) For preserving. ARSENIC,—not the pure metal properly so called, but arsenic of the shops, or arsenious acid,—is the great preservative. Use dry powdered arsenic, plenty of it, and nothing else. There is no substitute for arsenic worthy of the name, and no preparation of arsenic so good as the simple substance. Various kinds of “arsenical soap” were and may still be in vogue ; it isa nasty, greasy substance ; and although efficacious enough, there is a very serious hygienic objection to its use! Arsenic, I need not say, is a violent irritant poison, and must therefore be duly guarded, but may be used with perfect impunity. It is avery heavy substance, not appreciably volatile at ordinary temperatures, and therefore not . 1 “Strange as it may appear to some, I would say avoid especially all the so-called arsenical soaps ; they are at best but filthy preparations ; besides, it is a fact to which I can bear painful testimony that they are, especially when applied to a greasy skin, poisonous in the extreme. I have been so badly poisoned, while working upon the skins of some fat water birds that had been prepared with arsenical soap, as to be made seriously ill, the poison having worked into the system through some small wounds or scratches on my hand. Had pure arsenic been used in preparing the skins, 40 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I liable, as some suppose, to be breathed, to any perceptible, much less injurious, extent. It will not at once enter the pores of healthy unbroken skin; so it is no matter if it gets on the fingers. The exceedingly minute quantity that may be supposed to find its way into the system in the course of time is believed by many competent physicians to be rather beneficial as a tonic. I will not commit myself to this; for, though I have never felt better than when working daily with arsenic, I do not know how much my health was improved by the outdoor exercise always taken at the same time. The simple precautions are, not to let it lie too long in con- tact with the skin, nor get into an abrasion, nor under the nails. It will convert a scratch or cut into a festering sore of some little severity ; while if lodged under the nails it soon shows itself by soreness, increased by pressure ; a white speck appears, then a tiny abscess forms, discharges, and gets well in a few days. Your pre- cautions really respect other persons more than yourself; the receptacle should be conspicuously labelled “POISON!” Arsenic is a good friend ; besides preserving our birds, it keeps busybodies and meddlesome folks away from the scene of operations, by raising a wholesome suspicion of the taxidermist’s surroundings. It may be kept in the tin pots in which it is usually sold ; but some shallower, broader receptacle is more convenient. A little drawer say 6 x 6 inches, and an inch deep, to slip under the edge of the table, or a similar compartment in a large drawer, will be found handy. A salt-spoon, or little wooden shovel whittled like one, is nice to use it with, though it is in fact generally taken up with the handle of the scalpel. As stated, there is no substitute for arsenic ; but ata pinch you can make temporary shift with the following, among other articles: table salt, or saltpetre, or charcoal strewn plentifully ; strong solution of corrosive sublimate, brushed over the skin inside ; creosote ; impure carbolic acid—these last two are quite efficacious, but they smell horribly for an indefinite period. A bird threatening to decompose before you are ready to skin it, may be saved fora while by injecting weak carbolic acid or creosote down the throat and up the fundament ; or by disembowelling, and filling the cavity with powdered charcoal. (c) For cleansing. Gypsum is an almost indispensable material for cleansing soiled plumage. Gypsum is properly native hydrated sulphate of lime; the article referred to is “plaster of Paris” or gypsum heated up to 260° F. (by which the water of crystallisation is driven off) and then finely pulverised. the effect would not have been as bad, although grease and arsenic are generally a blood-poison in some degree ; but when combined with ‘ soap’ the effect, at least as far as my experience goes, is much more injurious” (MayNarD, Guide, p. 12). In indorsing this, I would add that the combination is the more poisonous, in all prob- ability, simply because the soap, being detersive, mechanically facilitates the entrance of the poison, without, however, chemically increasing its virulence. sec. vi ZMSTRUMENTS, ETC., FOR PREPARING BIRDSKINS 41 When mixed with water it soon solidifies, the original hydrate being again formed. The mode of using it is indicated beyond. It is most conveniently kept in a shallow tray, say a foot square, and an inch or two deep, which had better, furthermore, slide under the table as a drawer; or form a compartment of a larger drawer. Keep gypsum and arsenic in different-looking receptacles, not so much to keep from poisoning yourself, as to keep from not poisoning a birdskin. They look much alike, and skinning becomes such a mechanical process that you may get hold of the wrong article when your thoughts are wandering in the woods. Gypsum, like arsenic, has no worthy rival in its own field ; some substitutes, in the order of their applicability, are: corn-meal, probably the best thing after gypsum ; calcined magnesia (very good but too light—it floats in the air, and makes you cough) ; bicarbonate of magnesia ; powdered chalk (“ prepared chalk,” creta preeparata of the drug shops, is the best kind) ; fine wood-ashes; clean dry loam. No article, however powdery when dry, that contains a glutinous principle, as for instance gum-arabic or flour, is admissible. (d) For wrapping, you want a thin, pliable, strong paper ; toilet-paper is the very best ; newspaper is pretty good. For making the cones or cylinders in which bird- skins may be set to dry, a stiffer article is required ; writing paper answers perfectly. Naturalists habitually. carry a Poeket Lens, much as other people do a watch. You will find a magnifying glass very con- venient in your search for the sexual organs of small birds when obscure, as they frequently are, out of the breeding-season; in picking lice from plumage, to send to your entomological friend, who will very likely pronounce them to be of a new species ; and for other purposes. Fixtures.—When travelling, your fixtures must ordinarily be limited to a collecting-chest ; you will have to skin birds on the top of this, on the tail-board of a wagon, or on your lap, as the case may be. The chest should be very substantial—iron-bound is best ; strong as to hinges and lock—and have handles. A good size is 30x 18x18 inches. Let it be fitted with a set of trays; the bottom one say four inches deep; the rest shallower ; the top one very shallow, and divided into compartments for your tools and materials, unless you fix these on the under side of the lid. Start out with all the trays full of cotton or tow. At home have a room to yourself, if possible ; taxidermy makes a mess to which your wife may object, and arsenic must not come in the way of children. At any rate have your own table. Great cleanliness is indispensable, especially when doing much work in hot weather, for the place soon smells sour if neglected. I use no special receptacle for offal, for this only makes another article to be cleaned ; lay down a piece of 42 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I paper for the refuse, and throw the whole away. A perfectly smooth surface is desirable. I generally have a large pane of window-glass on the table before me. It will really be found advantageous to have a scale of inches scratched on the edge of the table; only a small part of it need be fractionally subdivided ; this replaces the foot-rule and tape-line, just as the tacks of a dry-goods counter answer for the yard-stick. You will find it worth while to rig some sort of a derrick arrangement, which you can readily devise, on one end of the table, to hitch your hook to, if you hang your birds up to skin them; they should swing clear of everything. The table should have a large general drawer, with a little drawer for gypsum and arsenic, unless these be kept elsewhere. Stuffing may be kept ina box under the table, and make a nice footstool; or in a bag slung to the table leg. § 7—HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN (a) THE REGULAR Process Lay the Bird on its Back, the bill pointing to your right} elbow. Take the scalpel like a pen, with edge of blade uppermost, and run a straight furrow through the feathers along the middle line of the belly, from end of the breast-bone to the vent. Part the feathers completely, and keep them parted.2 Observe a strip of skin either perfectly naked, or only covered with short down; this is the line for incision. Take scissors, stick in the pointed blade just over the end of the breast-bone, cut in a straight line thence to and into the vent; cut extremely shallow.3 Take the forceps in your left hand, and scalpel in your right, both held pen-wise, and with the forceps seize and lift up one of the edges of the cut skin, gently pressing away the belly-walls with 1 Reverse this and following directions for position, if you are left-handed. 2 The motion is exactly like stroking the right and left sides of a moustache apart ; you would never dress the hairs smoothly away from the middle line, by poking from ends to root; nor will the feathers stay aside, unless stroked away from base to tip. 3 The skin over the belly is thin as tissue paper in a small bird 5 the chances are you will at first cut the walls of the belly too, opening the cavity; this is no great matter, for a pledget of cotton will keep the bowels in; nevertheless, try to divide skin only. Reason for cutting into vent: this orifice makes a nice natural termina- tion of the incision, buttonhole-wise, and may keep the end of the cut from tearing around the root of the tail. Reason for beginning to cut over the edge of the breast- bone: the muscular walls of the belly are very thin, and stick so close to the skin that you may be in danger of attempting to remove them with the skin, instead of removing the skin from them ; whereas you cannot remove anything but skin from over the breast-bone, so you have a guide at the start. You can tell skin from belly-wall, by its livid, translucent whitishness instead of redness. SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 43 the scalpel-point ; no cutting is required ; the skin may be peeled off without trouble. Skin away till you meet an obstacle; it is the thigh. Lay down the instruments; with your left hand take hold of the leg outside at the shank; put your right forefinger under the raised flap of skin, and feel a bump ; it is the knee; push up the leg till this bump comes into view; hold it so. Take the scissors in your right hand ; tuck one blade under the concavity of the knee, and sever the joint at a stroke; then the thigh is left with the rest of the body, while the rest of the leg is dissevered and hangs only by skin. Push the leg farther up till it has slipped out of its sheath of skin, like a finger out of a glove, down to the heel-joint. You have now to clear off the flesh and leave the bone there ; you may scrape till this is done, but there is a better way. Stick the closed points of the scissors in among the muscles just below the head of the bone, then separate the blades just wide enough to grasp the bone; snip off its head ; draw-the head to one side; all ‘the muscles follow, being there attached; strip them downward from the bone; the bone is left naked, with the muscle hanging by a bundle of tendons (“leaders”) at its foot ; sever these tendons collectively at a stroke. This whole performance will occupy about three seconds, after practice; and you may soon discover you can nick off the head of the bone of a small bird with the thumb-nail. Draw the leg-bone back into its sheath, and leave it. Repeat the foregoing steps on the other side of the bird. If you are bothered by the skin-flaps settling against the belly-walls, insert a fluff of cotton. Keep the feathers out of the wound ; cotton and the moustache movement will do it. Next you must sever the tail from the body, leaving a small “pope’s-nose” for the feathers to stay stuck into. Put the bird in the hollow of your lightly closed left hand, tail upward, belly toward you; or, if too large for this, stand it on its breast on the table in similar position. Throw your left forefinger across the front (under side) of the tail, pressing a little backward ; take the scissors, cut the end of the lower bowel free first, then peck away at bone and muscle with cautious snips, till the tail-stump is dissevered from the rump, and the tail hangs only by skin. You will soon learn to do it all at one stroke; but you cannot be too careful at first; you are cutting right down on to the skin over the top of the pope’s-nose, and if you divide this, the bird will part company with its tail altogether. Now you have the rump-stump protruding naked; the legs dangling on either side ; the tail hanging loose down over the bird’s back. Lay down scissors, take up forceps! in your left hand; with them seize and 1 Or at this stage you may instead stick a hook into a firm part of the rump, and hang up the bird about the level of your breast; you thus have both hands free to work with. This is advisable with all birds too large to be readily taken in 44 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I hold the stump of the rump; and with point or handle of scalpel in the other hand, with finger-tips, or with thumb-nail (best), gently press down on and peel away skin. No cutting will be required (usually) till you come to the wings: the skin peels off (usually) as easily as an orange-rind ; as fast as it is loosened, evert it; that is, make it continually turn itself more and more completely inside out. Work thus till you are stopped by the obtruding wings.” You have to sever the wing from the body at the shoulder, just as you did the leg at the knee, and leave it hanging by skin alone. Take your scissors,? as soon as the upper arm is exposed, and cut through flesh and bone alike at one stroke, a little below (outside of) the shoulder-joint. Do the same with the other wing. As soon as the wings are severed the body has been skinned to the root of the neck; the process becomes very easy ; the neck almost slips out of its sheath of itself; and if you have properly attended to keeping the feathers out of the wound and to continual eversion of the skin, you now find you have a naked body connected dumb- bell-wise by a naked neck to a cap of reversed skin into which the head has disappeared, from the inside of which the legs and wings dangle, and around the edges of which is a row of plumage and a tail Here comes up an important consideration: the skin, plumage, legs, wings, and tail together weigh something,—enough to stretch ° unduly the skin of the neck, from the small cylinder of hand, and will help you, at first, with any bird. But there is really no use of it with a small bird, and you may as well learn the best way of working at first as afterward. 1 The idea of the whole movement is exactly like ungloving your hand from the wrist, by turning the glove inside out to the very finger tips. Some say, pull off the skin ; I say never pull « bird’s skin under any circumstances: push it off, always operating at lines of contact of skin with body, never upon areas of skin already detached. ° The elbows will get in your way before you reach the point of attack, namely, the shoulder, unless the wings were completely relaxed (as was essential, indeed, if you measured alar expanse correctly), Think what a difference it would make, were you skinning a man through a slit in the belly, whether his arms were stretched above his head or pinned against his ribs. It is just the same with a bird. When properly relaxed the wings are readily pressed away toward the bird’s head, so that the shoulders are encountered before the elbows. 3 Shears will be required to crash through a large arm-bone. Or, you may with the scalpel unjoint the shoulder. The joint will be found higher up and deeper among the breast muscles than you might suppose, unless you are used to carving fowls at table. With a small bird, you may snap the bone with the thumb-nail and tear asunder the muscles in an instant. 4 You find that the little straight cut you made along the belly has somehow become a hole larger than the greatest girth of the bird; be undismayed ; it is all right. 5 If you have up to this point properly pushed off the skin instead of pulling it, there is as yet probably no stretching of any consequence; but, in skinning the head, which comes next, it is almost impossible for a beginner to avoid stretching to an extent involving great damage to the good looks of a skin. Try your utmost, by delicacy of manipulation at the lines of contact of skin with flesh, and only there, to SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 45 which they are now suspended ; the whole mass must be supported. For small birds, gather it in the hollow of your left hand, letting the body swing over the back of your hand out of the way; for large ones, rest the affair on the table or your lap. To skin the head, secure the body in the position just indicated, by confining the neck between your left thumb and forefinger; bring the right fingers and thumb to a cone over the head, and draw it out with gentle force; or, holding the head itself between the left thumb and forefinger, insert the handle of the scalpel between the skin and skull, and pry a little, to enlarge the neck-cylinder of skin enough to let the head pass. It will generally+ slip out of its hood very readily, as far as its greatest diameter ;* there it sticks, being in fact pinned by the ears. Still holding the bird as before, with the point of the scalpel handled like a nut-picker, or with your thumb- nail, detach the delicate membrane that lines the ear-opening ; do the same for the other ear. The skull is then shelled out to the eyes, and will skin no farther of its own accord, being again attached by a membrane, around the border of the eye-socket. Holding the scalpel as before, run its edge around an are (a semi- circle is enough to let you into the orbit) of the circumference, dissevering the membrane from the bone. Reverse the scalpel, and scoop out the eyeball with the end of the handle; you bring out the eye betwixt the ball of your thumb and the handle of the instrument, tearing apart the optic nerve and the conjunctival tissue, but taking care not to open the eyeball® or lacerate the eyelids. Do the same with the other eye. The head is then skinned far enough; there is no use of getting quite to the base of the bill. You have now to get rid of the brain and flesh of the nape and jaws,* and leave most of the skull in; the cranial dome ~ makes the only perfect “stuffing” for the skin of the head. This is all done at once by only four particular cuts. Hold the head prevent lengthwise stretching. Crosswise distension is of no consequence; in fact more or less of it is usually required to skin the head, and it tends to counteract the ill effect of undue elongation. 1 The special case of head too large for the calibre of the neck is treated beyond. 2 And you will at once find a great apparent increase of amount of free skin in your hand, owing to release and extension of all that was before shortened in length by circular distension, in enlargement of the neck-cylinder. 3 An eyeball is much larger than it looks from the outside; if you stick the instrument straight into the socket, you may punch a hole in the ball and let out the water—a very disagreeable complication. Insinuate the knife-handle close to the rim of the socket, and hug the wall of the cavity throughout. 4 You may of course at this stage cut off the neck at the nape, punch a hole in the base of the skull, dig out the brains, and scrape away at the jaw-muscles till you are satisfied or tired ; an unnecessary job, during which the skin may have become dry and shrivelled and hard to turn right side out. The operation described in the text may require five seconds, perhaps. 46 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I between your left thumb and fingers, the bill pointing towards you, the bird’s palate facing you; you observe a space bounded behind by the base of the skull where the neck joins, in front by the floor of the mouth, on either side by the prongs of the under jaw,—these last especially prominent. Take the scissors; stick one blade just inside one branch of the lower jaw, thence into the eye-socket which lies below (the head being upside down), thence into the brain-box; make a cut parallel with the jaw, just inside of it, bringing the upper scissor-blade perpendicularly downward, crash- ing through the skull just inside of the angle of the jaw. Duplicate this cut on the other side, Connect the anterior ends of these cuts by a transverse one across the floor and roof of the mouth. Connect the posterior ends of the side cuts by one across the back of the skull near its base,—just where the nape-muscle ceases to override the cranium. You have enclosed and cut out a squarish-shaped mass of bone and muscle, and, on gently pulling the neck (to which of course it remains attached) the whole affair comes out, bringing the brain with it, but leaving the entire roof of the skull supported on a scaffold- ing of jaw-bone. It only remains to skin the wings. Seize the arm- stump with fingers or forceps; the upper arm is readily drawn from its sheath as far as the elbow; but the wing must be skinned to the wrist (carpus—“ bend of the wing”) ; yet it will not come out easily, because the secondary quills grow to one of the forearm bones (the ulna), pinning down the skin the whole way along a series of points. To break up these connections, hold the upper arm firmly with the left thumb and forefinger, the convexity of the elbow looking towards you; press the right thumb-nail closely against the back edge of the ulna, and strip downward, scraping the bone with the nail the whole way. If you only hit the line of adhesions, there is no trouble at all about this. Now you want to leave in one of the two forearm bones, to preserve sufficiently the shape of the limb, but to remove the other, with the upper-arm bone and all the flesh. It is done in a moment: stick the point of the scissors between the heads of the two forearm bones, and ‘cut the hinder one (ulna) away from the elbow; then the other fore- arm bone (radius), bearing on its near end the elbow and the whole upper-arm, is to be stripped away from the ulna, taking with it the flesh of the forearm, and to be cut off at its far end close to the wrist-joint, one stroke severing the bone and all the tendons that pass over the wrist to the hand; then the ulna, bare of flesh, is alone left in, attached at the wrist. Draw gently on the wing from the outside till it slips into the natural position whence you everted it. Do the same for the other wing. This finishes the skinning process. The skin is now to be turned right side out. Begin any way you please, till you see the point of the bill reappearing among SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 47 the feathers ; seize it with fingers or forceps, as convenient, and use it for gentle traction. But by no means pull it out by holding on to the rear end of the skin—that would infallibly stretch the skin. Holding the bill, make a cylinder of your left hand and coax the skin backward with a sort of milking motion. It will come easily enough, until the final stage of getting the head back into its skull- cap; this may require some little dexterity ; but you cannot fail to get the head in, if you remember what you did to get it out. When this is fairly accomplished, you for the first time have the pleasure of seeing something that looks like a birdskin. Your next care is to apply arsenic. Lay the skin on its back, the opening toward you and wide spread, so the interior is in view. Run the scalpel- handle into the neck to dilate that cylinder until you can see the skull; find your way to the orifices of the legs and wings; expose the pope’s-nose ; thus you have not only the general skin surface, but all the points where some traces of flesh were left, fairly in view. Put in arsenic; send some down the neck, making sure it reaches and plentifully besprinkles the whole skull; drop a little in each wing-hole and leg-hole ; leave a small pile at the root of the tail; strew some more over the skin at large. The simple rule is, put in as much arsenic as will stick anywhere. Then close the opening, and shake up the skin; move the head about by the bill; rustle the wings and move the legs; this distributes the poison thoroughly. If you have got in more than is necessary, as you may judge by seeing it piled up dry, anywhere, hold the skin with the opening downward over the poison-drawer, and give it a flip and let the superfluous powder fall out. Now for the “make-up,” upon which the beauty of the preparation depends. First get the empty skin into good shape. Let it lie on its back; draw it straight out to its natural length. See that the skin of the head fits snugly ; that the eyes, ears, and jaws are in place. Expand the wings to make sure that the bone is in place, and fold them so that the quills override each other naturally ; set the tail-feathers shingle- wise also; draw down the legs and leave them straddling wide apart. Give the plumage a preliminary dressing ; if the skin is free from kinks and creases, the feathers come naturally into place ; particular ones that may be awry should be set right, as may be generally done by stroking, or by lifting them free repeatedly, and letting them fall; if any (through carelessness) remain turned into the opening, they should be carefully picked out. Remove all traces of gypsum or arsenic with the feather-duster. The stuffing is to be put in through the opening in the belly; the art is to get in just enough, in the right places. It would never do to push in pellets of cotton, as you would stuff a pillow-case, till the skin is filled up ; no subsequent skill in setting could remove the distortion that 48 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I would result.1 It takes just four pieces of stuffing—one for each eye, one for the neck, and one for the body; while it requires rather less than half as much stuffing as an inexperienced person might suppose. Take a shred of cotton that will make a tight ball as large as the bird’s eye; stick it on the end of your knitting- needle, and by twirling the needle whilst the cotton is confined in your finger tips, you make a neat ball. Introduce this through the belly-opening into the eye-socket; if you have cut away skull enough, as already directed, it will go right in; disengage the needle with a reverse twirl, and withdraw it. Take hold of the bill with one hand, and with the forceps in the other, dress the eye- lids neatly and naturally over the elastic substance within. Repeat for the other eye. Take next a shred of cotton that will roll into a firm cylinder rather less than the size of the bird’s neck. Roll it on the needle much as you did the eyeball, introduce it in the same way, and ram it firmly into the base of the skull; disengage the needle by twirling it the other way, and withdraw it, taking care not to dislodge the cotton neck. If now you peep into the skin you will see the end of this artificial neck; push it up against the skin of the breast,—it must not lie down on the back between the shoulders.” The body-wad comes next, to imitate the size and shape of the bird’s trunk. Take a mass of cotton you think will be enough, and take about half of this ; that will be plenty (cotton is very elastic). It should make a tolerably firm ball, rather egg- shaped, swelling at the breast, smaller behind. If you simply squeeze up the cotton, it will not stay compressed ; it requires a motion something like that which bakers employ to knead dough into the shape of a loaf. Keep tucking over the borders of the cotton till the desired shape and firmness are attained. Insert the 1 For any ordinary bird up to the size of a crow, it is often directed that the leg-bones and wing-bones be wrapped with cotton or tow. I should not think of putting anything around the wing-bones of any bird up to the size of an eagle, swan, or pelican, Examination of a skinned wing will show how extremely compact it is, except just at the shoulder. What you remove will never make any difference from the outside, while you would almost inevitably get in too much, not of the right shape, and make an awkward bulging no art would remedy ; I say, then, leave the wings of all but the largest birds empty, and put in very little cotton under any cir- cumstances. As for legs, the whole host of small perching birds need no wrapping whatever ; depend upon it you will make a nicer skin without wrapping. But large birds and those with very muscular or otherwise prominent legs must have the ‘removal of flesh compensated. I treat of these cases beyond. 2 Although a bird’s neck is really, of course, in direct continuation of the back- bone, yet the natural sigmoid curve of the neck is such that it virtually takes depart- ure rather from the breast, its lower curve being received between the prongs of the merrythought. This is what we must imitate instead of the true anatomy. If you let the end of the neck lie between the shoulders, it will infallibly press them apart, so that the interscapular plumage cannot shingle over the scapular feathers as it should, and a gaping place, showing down or even naked skin, will result. Likewise, if the neck be made too large (the chances are that way at first), the same result follows. These seemingly trifling points are very important. SEC, VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 49 ball between the blades of the forceps in such way that the instru- ment confines the folded-over edges, and with a wriggling motion insinuate it aright into the body. Before relaxing the forceps, put your thumb and forefinger in the bird’s armpits, and pinch the shoulders together till they almost touch ; this is to make sure that there is no stuffing between the shoulders,—the whole mass lying breastwards. Loosen the forceps and withdraw them. If the ball is rightly made and tucked in, the elasticity of the cotton will chiefly expend itself in puffing out the breast, which is just what is wanted. Be careful not to push the body too far in; if it impacts against the skin of the neck, this will infallibly stretch, driving the shoulders apart, and no art will remedy the unsightly gap resulting. You see I dwell on this matter of the shoulders; the whole knack of stuffing correctly focuses just over the shoulders. If you find you have made the body too large, pull it out and make a smaller one ; if it fits nicely about the shoulders, but is too long to go in, or too puffy over the belly, let it stay, and pick away shreds at the open end till the redundancy is remedied. Your bird is now stuifed. Close the opening by bringing the edges of the original cut together. There is no use of sewing up the cut for a small bird; if the stuffing is correct, the feathers will hide the opening; and if they do not, it is no matter. You are not making an object for a show- case, but for a naturalist’s cabinet. Supposing you to have been so far successful, little remains to be done ; the skin already looks very much like a dead bird ; you have only to give the finishing touches, and “set” it. Fixing the wings nicely is a great point. Fold each wing closely; see that the carpal bend is well defined, that the coverts show their several oblique rows perfectly, that all the quills override each other like shingles. Tuck the folded wings close up to the body—rather on the bird’s back than along its sides; see that the wing tips meet over the tail (under the tail as the bird lies on its back) ; let the carpal angle nestle in the plumage; have the shoulders close together, so that the interscapular feathers shingle over the scapulars. If the wing be pressed in too tightly, the scapulars will rise up on end; there must be neither furrow nor ridge about the insertion of the wings ; everything must lie perfectly smooth. At this stage of the process lift up the skin gingerly, and let it slip head first through one hand after the other, pressing here or there to correct a deformity, or uniformly to make the whole skin compact. The wings set, next bring the legs together, so that the bones within the skin lie parallel with each other; bend the heel-joint a little, to let the tarsi cross each other about their middle ; lay them sidewise on the tail, so that the naturally flexed toes lie flat, all the claws facing each other. See that the neck is perfectly straight, and, if anything, shortened rather than out- E 50 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I stretched ; have the crown of the head flat on the table, the bill pointing straight forward,! the mandibles shut tightly.2 Never attempt any fancy attitudes with a birdskin; the simpler and more compactly it is made up the better. Finally, I say, hang over your bird (if you have time); dress better the feathers that were well dressed before ; perfect every curve; finish caressingly, and put it away tenderly, as you hope to be shriven yourself when the time comes. There are several ways of laying a birdskin. A common, easy, and slovenly way is to thrust it head first into a paper cone; but it makes a hollow-chested, pot-bellied object, unpleasant to see, and renders your nice work on the make-up futile. A paper cylinder, corresponding in calibre to the greatest girth of the birdskin, binds the wings well, and makes a good specimen. Remarking that there are some detestable practices, such as hanging up a bird by a string through the nose (methods only to be mentioned to be condemned), I will tell you the easiest and best way by which the most elegant and tasteful results are secured. The skins are simply laid away in cotton, just as they come from your hands. ‘Take a considerable wad of cotton, make a bed of it, lay the specimen in, and tuck it up nicely around the edges. I generally take a thin sheet of cotton wadding, the sizing of which confers some textile consist- ency, and wrap the bird completely but lightly in it. By loosening or tightening a trifle here or there, laying down a pillow or other special slight pressure, the most delicate contour-lines may be preserved with fidelity. Unnecessary pother is sometimes made about drying skins ; the fact being that under ordinary circumstances they could not be kept from drying perfectly ; and they dry in 1 Exceptions. Woodpeckers, ducks, and some other birds treated of beyond, are best set with the head flat on one side, the bill pointing obliquely to the right or left ; owls, with the bill pointing straight up in the air as the bird lies on its back. 2 If the mandibles gape, run a thread through the nostrils and tie it tightly under the bill. Or, since this injures the nostrils (and we frequently want to examine their structure), stick a pin in under the bill close to the gonys, driving it obliquely into the palate. Sometimes the skin of the throat looks sunken betwixt the sides of the a A shred of cotton introduced with forceps through the mouth will obviate this. 3 Don’t cock up the head, trying to impart a knowing air—it cannot be done, and only makes the poor bird look ridiculous, Don’t lay the skin on one side, with the legs in perching position, and don’t spread the wings—the bird will never perch nor fly again, and the suggestion is not in keeping. The only permissible departure from the rule of severe simplicity is when some special ornament, as a fine crest, may be naturally displayed, or some hidden markings be brought out, or a shape of tail or wing to be perpetuated ; but in all such cases the “ spread-eagle” style should be sparingly indulged. It is, however, frequently desirable to give some special set to hide a defect, as loss of plumage, etc. ; this may often be accomplished very cun- ningly, with excellent result. No rules for this can be laid down, since the details vary in every case ; but in general the weak spot may be hidden by contracting the skin of the place, and then setting the bird in an attitude that naturally corresponds, thus making a virtue of necessity, SEC, VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 51 exactly the shape they are set, if not accidentally pressed upon. At sea, however, or during unusually protracted wet weather, they of course dry slowly, and may require some attention to prevent mildew or souring, especially in the cases of very large, thick- skinned, or greasy specimens. Thorough poisoning, and drying by a fire, or placing in the sun, will always answer. Very close packing retards drying. When travelling, or operating under other circum- stances requiring economy of space, you must not expect to turn out your collection in elegant order. Perfection of contour-lines can only be secured by putting each specimen away by itself; undue pressure is always liable to produce unhappily outré configura- tion of a skin. Trays in a packing box are of great service in limiting possibilities of pressure ; they should be shallow ; one four inches deep will take a well-stuffed hen-hawk, for example, or accommodate from three to six sparrows atop of one another. It is well to sort out your specimens somewhat according to size, to keep heavy ones off little ones; though the chinks around the former may usually be economised with advantage by packing in the less valuable or the less neatly prepared of the latter. When limited to a travelling chest, I generally pass in the skins as fast as made, packing them solid in one sense, yet finding a nice resting-place for each. If each rests in its own cotton coffin, it is astonishing how close they may be laid without harm, and how many will go in a given space; a tray 30 x 18x 4 inches will easily hold three hundred and fifty birds six inches long. As a tray fills up, the drier ones first put in may be submitted to more pressure. A skin originally dried in good shape may subsequently be pressed perfectly flat without material injury; the only thing to avoid being distor- tion. The whole knack of packing birds corresponds to that of filling a trunk solidly full of clothes, as may easily be done without damage to an immaculate shirt-front. Finally, I would say, never put away a bird unlabelled, not even for an hour; you may forget it or die. Never tie a label to a bird’s bill, wing, or tail; tie it securely to legs where they cross, and it will be just half as liable to become detached as if tied to one leg only. Never paste a label, or even a number, on a bird’s plumage. Never put in glass eyes before mounting. Never paint or varnish a bird’s bill or feet. Never replace missing plumage of one bird with the feathers of another—no, not even if the birds came out of the same nest.! 1 [In presenting anew, and to an English public, the foregoing directions for mani- pulation, the author may be pardoned if he alludes to the test of time in their favour. Some of his earliest specimens, made in 1857, are extant, and in good order still. Many of the large cabinets, both in Europe and the United States, include some of his preparations, received in exchange through the Smithsonian Institution, or through private channels. They will be found, as a rule, compact yet shapely, with a smooth finish, and very durable. He may add, lest this paragraph should be misunderstood, 52 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I (b) SPECIAL PROCESSES ; COMPLICATIONS AND ACCIDENTS The Foregoing Method of procedure is a routine practice applicable to the “general run” of birds. But there are several cases requiring a modification of this process ; while several circum- stances may tend to embarrass operations. The principal special conditions may therefore be separately treated to advantage. Size.—Other things being equal, a large bird is more difficult to prepare than a small one. In one case, you only need a certain delicacy of touch, easily acquired and soon becoming mechanical ; in the other, demand on your strength may be made, till your muscles ache. It takes longer, too;} I could put away a dozen sparrows in the time I should spend over an eagle; and I would rather undertake a hundred humming-birds than one ostrich. For large birds, say anything from a hen-hawk upward, various special manipulations I have directed may be forgone, while however you observe their general drift and intent. You may open the bird as directed, or, turning it tail to you, cut with a knife? Forceps are rarely required ; there is not much that is too small to be taken in hand. As soon as the tail is divided, hang up the bird by the that he has seldom purchased a birdskin, never sold one in his life, and for some years has owned none. Excepting a few given to friends, his ornithological specimens, as well as those in other departments of natural history, have always been presented to the United States Government, and deposited in the national collection at Washington. 9th September 1889.] 1 The reader may be curious to know something of the statistics on this score— how long it ought to take him to prepare an ordinary skin. He can scarcely imagine, from his first tedious operations, how expert he may become, not only in beauty of result, but in rapidity of execution. I have seen taxidermists make good small skins at the rate of ten an hour ; but this is extraordinary. The quickest work I ever did myself was eight an hour, or an average of seven and a half minutes apiece, and fairly good skins. But I picked my birds, all small ones, well shot, labelled, measured, and plugged beforehand, so that the rate of work was exceptional, besides including cnly the actual manipulations from first cut to laying away. No one averages eight birds an hour, even excluding the necessary preliminaries of cleansing, plugging, etc. Four birds an hour, everything included, is good work. A very eminent ornithologist of America, and an expert taxidermist, once laid a whimsical wager that he would skin and stuff a bird before a certain friend of his could pick all the feathers off a specimen of the same kind. I forget the time, but he won, and his friend ate crow, literally, that night. 2 Certain among larger birds are often opened elsewhere than along the belly, with what advantage I cannot say from my own experience. Various water-birds, such as loons, grebes, auks, gulls, and ducks (in fact any swimming-bird with dense under plumage), may be opened along the side by a cut under the wings from the shoulder over the hip to the rump; the cut is completely hidden by the make-up, and the plumage is never ruffled. But I see no necessity for this ; for, asa rule, the belly-opening can be completely effaced with due care, though a very greasy bird with white under plumage generally stains where opened, in spite of every precaution. Such birds as loons, grebes, cormorants, and penguins are often opened by a cut across the fundament from one leg to the other ; their conformation in fact suggests and favours this operation. I have often seen water-birds slit down the back ; but I consider it poor practice. SEC, VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 53 rump, so you will have both hands free. Let it swing clear of the wall or table, at any height most convenient. The steel hooks of a dissecting case are not always large enough; use a stout fish-hook with the barb filed off. Work with your nails, assisted by the scalpel if necessary. I know of no bird, and I think there is none, in England at least, the skin of which is so intimately adherent by fibrous or muscular tissue as to require actual dissecting throughout; a gannet comes, perhaps, as near this as any; but in many cases the knife may be constantly employed with advantage. Use it with long clean sweeping strokes, hugging the skin rather than the body. The knee and shoulder commonly require disarticulation, unless you use bone-nippers or strong shears. To make the four cuts of the skull may need a very able-bodied instrument, even a chisel. The wings will give the most trouble, and they require a special process; for you cannot readily break up the adhesions of the secondary quills to the ulna, nor is it desirable that very large feathers should be deprived of this natural support. Hammer or nip off the great head of the upper-arm bone, just below the insertion of the breast-muscles ; clean the rest of that bone and leave it in. Tie a string around it (what sailors call “two half-hitches” gives a secure hold on the bony cylinder), and tie it to the other humerus, inside the skin, so that the two bones shall be rather less than their natural distance apart. After the skin is brought right side out, attack the wings thus: Spread the wing under side uppermost, and secure it on the table by driving a tack or brad through the wrist- joint ; this fixes the far end, while the weight of the skin steadies the other. Raise a whole layer of the under wing-coverts, and make a cut in the skin thus exposed, from elbow to wrist, in the middle line between the two fore-arm bones. Raise the flaps of skin and all the muscle is laid bare; it is to be removed. This is best done by lifting each muscle from its bed separately, slipping the handle of the scalpel under the individual muscles ; there is little if any bony attachment except at each end, and this is readily severed. Strew in arsenic ; a little cotton may be used to fill the bed of muscle removed from a very large bird; bring the flaps of skin together, and smooth down the coverts; you need not sew up the cut, for the coverts will hide the opening; in fact, the operation does not show at all after the make-up. Stuffing of large birds is not commonly done with only the four pieces already directed. The eyeballs, and usually the neck-cylinder, go in as before; the body may be filled any way you please, provided you do not put in too much stuffing nor get any between the shoulders. Large birds had better have the leg-bones wrapped to nearly natural size. Observe that the leg-muscles do not form a cylinder, but a cone; let the wrapping taper naturally from top to bottom. Attention to this 54 LTELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I point is necessary for all large or medium-sized birds with naturally prominent legs. The stout finely feathered legs of a hawk, for example, ought to be well displayed; with these birds, and also with rails, etc., moreover, imitate the bulge of the thigh with a special wad laid inside the skin. Large birds commonly require also a special wad introduced by the mouth, to make the swell of the throat; this wad should be rather fluffy than firm. As a rule, do not fill out large birds to their natural dimensions ; they take up too much room. Let the head, neck, and legs be accurately prepared, but leave the main cavity one-third if not one-half empty; no more stuffing is required than will fairly smooth out creases in the skin. Reduce bulk rather by flattening out than by general compression. Use tow instead of cotton; and if at all short of tow, economise with paper, hay, etc., at least for the deeper portions of the main stuffing. Large birds may be set in a great quantity of tow; wrapped in paper, much like any other parcel; or simply left to dry on the table, the wings being only supported by cushioning or other suitable means. Shape.—Some special configurations have been noticed in the last paragraph, prematurely perhaps, but leading directly up to further considerations respecting shape of certain birds as a modify- ing element in the process of preparation. As for skinning, there is one extremely important matter. Most ducks, many wood- peckers, flamingoes, and some others, cannot be skinned in the usual way, because the head is too large for the calibre of the neck and cannot be drawn through. In such cases, skin as usual to the base of the skull, cut off the head there (inside the skin of course), and operate upon it, after turning the skin right side out, as follows: Part the feathers carefully in a straight line down the back of the skull, make a cut through the skin, just long enough to permit the head to pass, draw out the skull through this opening, and dress it as already directed. Return it, draw the edges of the cut nicely together, and sew up the opening with a great many fine stitches. Simple as it may appear, this process is often embar- rassing, for the cut has an unhappy tendency to wander about the neck, enlarging itself even under the most careful manipulation ; while the feathers of the parts are usually so short that it is diffi- cult to efface all traces of the operation. I consider it very dis- agreeable ; but for ducks I know of no alternative. I have, however, found out a way to avoid it with woodpeckers, excepting the very — largest ; it is this: Before skinning, part the eyelids, and plunge the scalpel right into the eyeball; seize the cut edge of the ball with the forceps, and pull the eye right out. It may be dexterously done without spilling the eye-water on the plumage ; but, for fear of this, previously put a little gypsum on the spot. Throw arsenic into the SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 55 socket, and then fill it with cotton poked in between the lids. The eyes are thus disposed of. Then, in skinning, when you come to the head, dissever it from the neck and work the skull as far out as you can; it may be sufficiently exposed, in all cases, for you to gouge out the base of the skull with the scissors, and get at the brain to remove it. Apply an extra large dose of arsenic, and you will never hear from what jaw-muscle has been left in. In all these cases, as already remarked, the head is preferably set lying on one side, with the bill pointing obliquely to the right or left. Certain birds require a special mode of setting ; these are, birds with very long legs or neck, or both, as swans, geese, pelicans, cormo- rants, snakebirds, loons, and especially cranes, herons, ibises, and flamingoes. Long legs should be doubled completely on themselves by bending at the heel-joint, and either tucked under the wings or laid on the under surface ; the chief point is to see that the toes lie flat, so that the claws do not stick up, to catch in things or get broken off. A long neck should be carefully folded ; not at a sharp angle with a crease in the skin, but with a short curve, and brought round either to the side of the bird or on its breast, as may seem most convenient. The object is to make a bale of the skin as nearly as may be, and when it is properly effected it is surprising what little space a crane, for instance, occupies. But it is rarely, if ever, admissible to bend a tail back on the body, however incon- veniently long it may be. Special dilations of skin, like the pouch of a pelican, or the air-sacs of a prairie-hen, may be moderately displayed. Thin Skin.—Loose Plumage.—lIt is astonishing how much resistance is offered by the thin skin of the smallest bird. Though no thicker than tissue paper, it is not very liable to tear if deftly handled ; yet a rent once started often enlarges to an embarrassing extent if the skin be stretched in the least. Accidental rents and enlargements of shot-holes should be neatly sewn up, if occurring in ‘an exposed place ; but in most cases the plumage may be set to hide the openings. The trogons are said to have remarkably thin and delicate skin; I have never handled one in the flesh. Among British birds, the species of Caprimulgide have about the tenderest skins. The obvious indication in all such cases is simply a little extra delicacy of manipulation. In skinning most birds, you should not lose more than a feather or two, excepting those loosened by the shot. Pigeons are peculiar for the very loose insertion of their plumage; you will have to be particularly careful with them, and in spite of all your precautions a good many feathers will probably drop. As stripping down the secondary quills from the fore-arm, in the manner already indicated, will almost invariably set these feathers free from the skin, I recommend you not to attempt it, but to dress the wings as prescribed for large birds. 56 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I Fatness.—Fat is a substance abhorred of all dissectors ; always in the way, embarrassing operations and obscuring observations ; while it is seldom worth examination after its structure has once been ascertained. It is particularly obnoxious to the taxidermist, since it is liable to soil the plumage during skinning, and also to soak into the feathers afterwards; and greasy birdskins are never pleasing objects. A few birds never seem to have any fat; some, like petrels, arefalways oily; at times, especially in the indolent autumn season, when birds have little to do but feed, the great majority acquire an embonpoint doubtless to their own satisfaction, but to the taxidermist’s discomfort. In all such cases gypsum should be lavishly employed. Strew plaster plentifully from the first cut all through the operation ; dip your fingers in it frequently, as well as your instruments. This invaluable absorbent will deal with most of the running fat. When the skin is completely reversed, remove as much of the solid fat as possible ; it is generally found occupying the areolar tissue of particular definite tracts, and most of it may usually be peeled or flaked off in considerable masses, Since the soft and oozy state of most birds’ fat at ordinary temper- atures may be much improved by cold, it will be well to leave your birds on ice for a while before skinning, if you have the means and time to do so; the fat will become quite firm. There is a device for preventing or at any rate lessening the soiling of the plumage so apt to occur along the line of incision ; it is invaluable in cases of white plumage. Take a strip of cloth of greater width than the length of the feathers, long enough to go up one side of the cut and down the other. Sew this closely to the skin all around the cut, and it will form an apron to guard the plumage. You will too frequently find that a bird, prepared without soiling and laid away apparently safe, afterwards grows greasy; if the plumage is white, it soon becomes worse than ever by showing dust that the grease catches. Perhaps the majority of such birds in our museums show the dirty streak along the belly. The reason is, that the grease has oozed out along the cut, or wherever else the skin has been broken, and infiltrated the plumage, being drawn up apparently by capillary attraction, just as a lampwick sucks up oil. Sometimes, without obviously soiling the plumage, the grease will run along the thread that ties the label, and make a uniformly transparent piece of oil- paper. I have no remedy to offer for this gradual infiltration of the plumage. It will not wash out, even with soap and water. Possibly careful and persistent treatment with ether might be effective, but Iam not prepared to say it would be. Removal of all fat that can be got off during skinning, with a liberal use of plaster, will in a measure prevent a difficulty that remains incurable. Bloodstains, ete.—In the nature of the case, this complication SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 57 is of continual occurrence ; fortunately it is easier dealt with than greasiness. Much may be done in the field to prevent bloodying of the plumage, as already said. A little blood does not show much on a dark plumage; but it is of course conspicuous on light or white feathers. Dried blood may often be scraped off, in imitation of the natural process by which a bird cleanses its plumage with the bill; or be pulverised by gently twiddling the feathers between the fingers, and then blown off. But feathers may by due care be washed almost as readily as clothing ; and we must ordinarily resort to this to remove all traces of blood, especially from white surfaces. If properly dried they do not show the operation. With a soft rag or pledget of cotton dipped in warm water bathe the place assiduously, pressing down pretty hard, only taking care to stroke the feathers the right way, so as not to crumple them, until the red colour dis- appears ; then you have simply a wet place to deal with. Press gypsum on the spot; it will cake; flake it off and apply more, till it will no longer stick. Then raise the feathers on a knife-blade and sprinkle gypsum in among them ; pat it down and shake it up, till the moisture is entirely absorbed. Two other fluids of the body will give occasional annoyance,—the juices of the alimentary canal and the eye-water. Escape of the former by mouth, nostrils, or vent is preventable by plugging these orifices, and its occurrence is inexcusable. But shot often lacerates the gullet, crop, and bowels, and though nothing may flow at the time, subsequent jolting or pressure in the game-bag causes the escape of fluids: a seemingly safe specimen may be unwrapped to show the whole belly-plumage a sodden brown mass. Such accidents should be treated precisely like bloodstains; but it is to be remarked that these stains are not seldom indelible, traces usually persisting, in white plumage at least, in spite of our best endeavours. Eye-water, insignificant as it may appear, is often a great annoyance. This liquor is slightly glairy, or rather glassy, and puts a sort of sizing on the plumage difficult to efface ; the more so since the soiling necessarily occurs in a conspicuous place, where the plumage is scanty and delicate. It frequently happens that a lacerated eyeball, by the elasticity of the coats, or adhesion of the lids, retains its fluid till this is pressed out in manipulating the parts; and, recollecting how the head lies buried in plumage at that stage of the process, it will be seen that not only the head, but much of the neck and even the breast, may become wetted. If the parts are extensively soaked, the specimen is almost irreparably damaged. Plaster will absorb the moisture, but much of the sizing may be retained on the plumage ; therefore, though the place seems simply wet, it should be thoroughly washed with water before the gypsum is applied. I always endeavour to prevent the accident; if I notice a lacerated eyeball, I extract it 58 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I before skinning, in the manner described for woodpeckers. Miscel- laneous stains, from the juices of plants, etc., may be received ; all such are treated on general principles. Blood on the beak and feet of rapacious birds, mud on the bill and legs of waders, etc. etc., may be washed off without the slightest difficulty. A land bird that has fallen in the water should be recovered as soon as possible, picked up by the bill, and shaken ; most of the water will run off, unless the plumage is completely soaked. It should be allowed to dry just as it is, without touching the plumage, before being wrapped and bagged. If a bird fall in soft mud, the dirt should be scraped or snapped off as far as this can be done without plastering the feathers down, and the rest allowed to dry; it may afterward be rubbed fine and dusted off, when no harm will ensue, except to white feathers, which may require washing. . Mutilation — You will often be troubled, early in your practice, with broken legs and wings, and various lacerations ; but the injury must be very severe (such as the carrying away of a limb, or blow- ing off the whole top of a head) that cannot be in great measure remedied by care and skill. Suppose a little bird, shot through the neck or small of the back, comes apart while being skinned ; you have only to remove the hinder portion, be that much or little, and go on with the rest as if it were the whole. If the leg-bone of a small bird be broken near the heel, let it come away altogether ; it will make little if any difference. In case of the same accident to a large bird that ought to have the legs wrapped, whittle out a peg and stick it in the hollow stump of the bone; if there is no stump left, file a piece of stout wire to a point and stick it into the heel joint. If the forearm bone that you usually leave ina small bird is broken, remove it and leave the other in; if both are broken, do not clean the wings so thoroughly that they become detached ; an extra pinch of arsenic will condone the omission. In a large bird, if both bones of the fore-arm are broken, splint them with a bit of wood laid in between, so that one end hitches at the elbow, the other at the wrist. A humerus may be replaced like a leg bone, but this is rarely required. If the skull be smashed, save the pieces, and leave them if you can; if not, imitate the arch of the head with a firm cotton-ball. A broken tarsus is readily splinted with a pin thrust up through the sole of the foot; if too large for this, use a pointed piece of wire. There is no mending a bill when part of it is shot away ; for I think the replacing of part by putty, stucco, etc., inadmissible ; but if it be only fractured, the pieces may usually be retained in place by winding with thread, or with a touch of glue or mucilage. I have already hinted how art- fully various weak places in a skin, due to mutilation or loss of plumage, may be hidden. SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 59 Decomposition.—It might seem unnecessary to speak of what may be smelt so readily as animal putrescence; but there are some useful points to be learned in this connection, besides the im- portant sanitary precautions that are to be deduced. Immediately after death the various fluids of the body begin to settle (so to speak), and shortly afterward the muscular system becomes fixed in what is technically called rigor mortis. This stiffening usually occurs as the animal heat dies away ; but its onset, and especially its duration, is very variable, according to circumstances, such as cause of death ; although in most cases of sudden violent death of an animal in previous good health, it seems to depend chiefly upon temperature, being transient and imperfect, or altogether wanting, in hot weather. As it passes off, the whole system relaxes, and the body soon becomes as limp as at the moment of death. This is the period immediately preceding decomposition ; in fact, it may be considered as the stage of incipient putridity ; it is very brief in warm weather, and it should be seized as the last opportunity of preparing a bird without inconvenience and even danger. If not skinned at once, putrescence becomes established ; it is indicated by the effluvium ; by the distension of the abdomen with gaseous products of decomposition ; by the loosening of the cuticle, and consequently of the feathers ; and by other signs. If you part the feathers of a bad-smelling bird’s belly to find the skin swollen and livid or greenish, while the feathers come off at a touch, the bird is too far gone to be recovered without trouble and risk that no ordinary specimen warrants. It is a singular fact that this early putrescence is more poisonous than utter rottenness ; as physicians are aware, a post-mortem examination at this stage, or even before it, involves more risk than their ordinary dissecting-room experience. It seems that both natural and pathological poisons lose their early virulence by resolution into other products of decay. The obvious deduction from this is to skin your birds soon enough. Some say they are best skinned perfectly fresh, but I see no reason for this; when I have time to choose, I take the period of rigidity as being prefer- able on the whole; for the fluids have then settled, and the limbs are readily relaxed by manipulation. If you have a large bag to dispose of, and are pressed for time, set them in the coolest place you can find, preferably on ice; a slight lowering of temperature may make a decided difference. Disembowelling, which may be accomplished in a moment, will materially retard decomposition. Injections of creosote or dilute carbolic acid will arrest decay for a time, or for an indefinitely long period if a large quantity of these antiseptics be employed. When it becomes desirable (it can never be necessary) to skin a putrescent bird, great care must be exercised not only to accomplish the operation, but to avoid danger. I must 60 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I not, however, lead you to exaggerate the risk, and will add that I think it often overrated. I have probably skinned birds as “gcamey” as any one has, and repeatedly, without being conscious of any ill effects. I am sure that no poison, ordinarily generated by decomposition of a body healthy at death, can compare in viru- lence with that commonly resulting after death by many diseases. T also believe that the gaseous products, however offensive to the smell, are innocuous as a rule. The danger practically narrows down to the absorption of fluids through an abraded surface; the poison is rarely taken in by natural pores of healthy skin, if it remain in contact but a short time. Cuts and scratches may be closed with a film of collodion, or covered with isinglass or court- plaster, or protected by rubber cots on the fingers. The hands should, of course, be washed with particular care immediately after the operation, and the nails scrupulously dressed. Having never been poisoned, I cannot give the symptoms from personal experience ; but I will quote from Mr. Maynard :— “In a few days numerous pimples, which are exceedingly pain- ful, appear upon the skin of the face and other parts of the person, and, upon those parts where there is chafing or rubbing, become large and deep sores. There is a general languor, and, if badly poisoned, complete prostration results ; the slightest scratch becomes a festering sore. Once poisoned in this manner (and I speak from experience), one is never afterward able to skin any animal that has become in the least putrid, without experiencing some of the symptoms above described. Even birds that you handled before with impunity you cannot now skin without great care. The best remedy in this case is, as the Hibernian would say, not to get poisoned ... bathe the parts frequently in cold water; and, if chafed, sprinkle the parts after bathing with wheat flour. These remedies, if persisted in, will effect a cure, if not too bad; then, medical advice should be procured without delay.” My advice would be, to avoid all mechanical irritation of the inflamed parts; touch the parts that have ulcerated with a stick of lunar caustic ; take a dose of salts ; use syrup of the iodide of iron, or tincture of the chloride of iron, say thirty drops of either, in a wineglass of water, thrice daily ; rest at first, exercise gradually as you can bear it; and skin no birds till you have completely recovered. How to mount Birds.—As some may not improbably procure this volume with a reasonable expectation of being taught to mount birds, I append the required instructions, although I only profess to treat of the preparation of skins for the cabinet. As a rule, the purposes of science are best subserved by not mounting specimens ; for display, the only end attained, is not required. I would. SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 61 strongly advise you not to mount your rarer or otherwise par- ticularly valuable specimens ; select for this purpose nice, pretty birds of no special scientific value. The principal objections to mounted birds are, that they take up too much room, require special arrangements for keeping and transportation, and cannot be handled for study with impunity. Some might suppose that a mounted bird would give a better idea of its figure and general aspect than a skin ; but this is only true to a limited extent. Faultless mounting is an art really difficult, acquired by few; the average work done in this line shows something of caricature, ludicrous or repulsive, as the case may be. To copy nature faithfully by taxidermy requires not only long and close study, but an artistic sense ; and this last is a rare gift. Unless you have at least the germs of the faculty in your composition, your taxidermal success will be incommensurate with the time and trouble you bestow. My own taxidermal art is of a low order, decidedly not above average; although I have mounted a great’ many birds that would compare very favourably with ordinary museum work, few of them have entirely answered my ideas. A live bird is to me such a beautiful object that the slightest taxidermal flaw in the effort to represent it is painfully offensive ; perhaps this makes me place the standard of excellence too high for practical purposes. I like a good honest birdskin that does not pretend to be anything else; it is far preferable to the ordinary taxidermal abortions of the show-cases. But if, after the warnings that I mean to convey in this paragraph, you still wish to try your hand in the higher department of taxidermy, I will explain the whole process as far as manipulation goes ; the art you must discover in yourself. The operation of skinning is precisely the same as that already given in detail; then, instead of stuffing the skin as directed above, to lie on its back in a drawer, you have to stuff it so that it will stand up on its feet and look as much like a live bird as possible. To this end a few additional implements and materials are required. These are: (a) annealed wire of various numbers; it may be iron, copper, or brass, but must be perfectly annealed, so as to retain no elasticity or spring; (b) several files of different sizes; (c) some slender straight brad-awls; (d) cutting pliers; (e) setting needles, merely sewing or darning needles stuck in a light wooden handle, for dressing individual feathers ; (f) plenty of pins (the long, slender insect pins used by entomologists are the best) and sewing thread ; (g) an assortment of glass eyes. (The fixtures and decorations are noticed, beyond, as occasion for their use arises.) There are two principal methods of mounting, which may be respectively styled soft stuffing and hurd stuffing. In the former, a wire framework; consisting of a single anterior piece passing in the 62 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I middle line of the body up through the neck and out at the top of the head, is immovably joined behind with two pieces, one passing through each leg ; around this naked forked frame soft stuffing is introduced, bit by bit, till the proper contour of the skin is secured. I have seen very pretty work of this kind, particularly on small birds ; but I consider it much more difficult to secure satisfactory results in this way than by hard stuffing, and I shall therefore con- fine attention to the latter. This method is applicable to all birds, is readily practised, facilitates setting of the wings, arranging of the plumage, and giving of any desired attitude. In hard stuffing, you make a firm ball of tow rolled upon a wire of the size and shape of the bird’s body and neck together ; you introduce this whole, after- wards running in the leg wires and clinching them immovably in the mass of tow. Having your empty skin in good shape, as already described, cut three pieces of wire of the right+ size; one piece somewhat longer than the whole bird, the other pieces two or three times as long as the whole leg of the bird. File one end of each piece to a fine sharp point; try to secure a three-edged cutting point like that of a surgical needle, rather than the smooth punching point of a sewing-needle, as the former perforates more readily. Have these wires perfectly straight.2 Bend a small portion of the unfiled end of the longer wire irregularly upon itself, as a convenient nucleus for the ball of tow.? Take fine clean tow, in loose dossils, and wrap it round and round the wire nucleus, till you make a firm ball, of the size and shape of the bird’s body and neck. Study the contour of the skinned body: notice the swelling breast-muscles, the arch of the lower back, the hollow between the forks of the merrythought into which the neck, when naturally curved, sinks. Everything depends upon correct shaping of the artificial body ; if it be misshapen, no art can properly adjust the skin over it. Firm- ness of the tow ball and accurate contour may both be secured by wrapping the mass with sewing thread, loosening here, tightening there, till the shape is satisfactory. Be particular to secure a smooth surface ; the skin in drying will shrink close to the stuffing, dis- closing its irregularities, if there be any, by the maladjustment of the plumage that will ensue. Observe especially that the neck, though the direct continuation of the backbone, dips at its lower 1 The right size is the smallest that will support the whole weight of the stuffing and skin without bending, when a piece is introduced into each leg. If using too thick wire, you may have trouble in thrusting it through the legs, or may burst the tarsal envelope. * If accidentally kinky, the finer sizes of wire may be readily straightened by drawing strongly upon them so as to stretch them a little. Heavier wire must be hammered out straight. 3 Cotton will not do at all; it is too soft and elastic, and moreover will not allow of the leg wires being thrust into it and there clinched. SEC. VII flOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 63 end into the hollow of the merrythought, and so virtually begins there instead of directly between the shoulders. The three mis- takes most likely to be made by a beginner are, getting the body altogether too large, not firm enough, and irregular. When properly made, it will closely resemble the bird’s body and neck, with an inch or several inches of sharp-pointed wire protruding from the anterior extremity of the neck of tow. You have now to introduce the whole affair into the skin. With the birdskin on its back, the tail pointing to your right elbow, and the abdominal opening as wide as possible, hold the tow body in position relative to the skin ; enter the wire, pass it up through the neck, bring the sharp point exactly against the middle of the skull, pierce skull and skin, causing the wire to protrude some distance from the middle of the crown. Then by gentle means insinuate the body, partly pushing it in, partly drawing the skin over it, till it rests in its proper position. This is just like drawing on a tight kid glove, and no more difficult. See that the body is completely encased ; you must be able to close the abdominal aperture entirely. You have next to wire the legs. Enter the sharp point of one of the leg- wires already prepared, exactly at the centre of the sole of the foot, thrusting it up inside the tarsal envelope the whole length of the shank, thence across the heel-joint and up along the next bone of the leg, still inside the skin. The point of the wire will then be seen within the skin, and may be seized and drawn a little farther through, and you will have passed a wire entirely out of sight all the way along the leg. The end of the wire is next to be fixed immovably in the tow ball. Thrust it in at the point where the knee, in life, rests against the side of the body.? Bring the point to view, bend it over and reinsert it till it sticks fast. There are no special directions to be given here ; fasten the wire in any way that effectually prevents wabbling. You may find it convenient to wire both legs before fastening either, and then clinch them by twisting the two ends together. But remember that the leg-wires may be fixed respecting each other, yet permit a see-saw motion of the body upon them. This must not be; the body and legs must be fixed upon a jointless frame. Having secured the legs, close the abdominal opening nicely, either by sewing or pinning; you may stick pins in anywhere, as freely as in a pin-cushion ; the feathers 1 There is occasionally difficulty in getting the wire across this joint, from the point sticking into the enlarged end of the shin-bone. In such case, take stout pliers and pinch the joint till the bone is smashed to fragments. The wire will then pass and the comminution will not show. If there is any trouble in passing the wire through the tarsus, bore a hole for it with a brad-awl. 2 This point is farther forward and more belly-ward than you might suppose. Observe the skinned body again, and see where the lower end of the thigh lies, If you insert the wire too far back, you cannot by any possibility balance the bird naturally on its perch ; it will look in imminent danger of toppling over. 64 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I hide their heads. Stick a pin through the pope’s-nose to fix the tail in place. All this while the bird has been lying on its back, the neck stretched straight in continuation of the body, wired stiffly, the legs straddling wide apart, straight and stiff, the wings lying loosely, half-spread. Now bring the legs together, parallel with each other, and make the sharp bend at the heel-joint that will bring the feet naturally under the belly (over it, as the bird lies on its back). Pick up the bird by the wires that project from the soles and set it on its stand, by running the wires through holes bored the proper distance apart, and then securing the ends by twisting. The temporary stand that you use for this purpose should have a heavy or otherwise firm support, so as not easily to overturn during the subsequent manipulations. At this stage the bird is a sorry-looking object ; but if you have stuffed correctly and wired securely, it will soon improve. Begin by making it stand properly. The common fault here is placing the tarsi too nearly perpendicular. Perching birds, constituting the majority, habitually stand with the tarsi more nearly horizontal than perpendicular, and generally keep the tarsi parallel with each other. Wading and most walking birds stand with the legs more nearly upright and straight. Many swimming birds straddle a little; others rarely if ever. See that the toes clasp the perch naturally, or are properly spread on the fiat surface. Cause the flank feathers to be correctly adjusted over the tibie (and here I will remark that with most birds little, if any, of the tibia shows in life), the heel-joint barely, if at all, projecting from the general plumage. It is a common fault of stuffing not to draw the legs closely enough to the body. Above all, look out for the centre of gravity ; though you have really fastened the bird to its perch, you must not let it look as if it would fall off if the wires slipped ; it must appear to rest there of its own accord. Next, give the head and neck a preliminary setting, according to the attitude you have determined upon. This will bring the plumage about the shoulders in proper position for the setting of the wings, to which you may at once attend. If the body be correctly fashioned and the skin of the shoulders duly adjusted over it, the wings will fold into place without the slightest difficulty. All that I have said before about setting the wings in a skin applies here as well; but in this case they will not stay in place, since they fall by their own weight. They must be pinned up. Holding the wing in place, thrust a pin steadily through near the wrist-joint, into the tow body. Some- times another pin is required to support the weight of the primaries ; it may be stuck into the flank of the bird, the outer quill feather resting directly upon it. With large birds a sharp pointed wire must replace the pin. When properly set, the wing-tips will fall SEC. VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 65 together or symmetrically opposite each other, the quills and coverts will be smoothly imbricated, the scapular series of feathers will lie close, and no bare spacé will show in front of the shoulder. Much depends upon the final adjustment of the head. The commonest mistake is getting it too far away from the body. In the ordinary attitudes of most birds little neck shows, the head appearing nestled upon the shoulders. If the neck appears too long, it is not to be contracted by pushing the head directly down upon it, but by making an §S curve of the neck. No precise directions can be given for the set of the head, but you may be assured it is a delicate, difficult matter; the slightest turn of the bill one way or another may alter the whole expression of the bird. You will of course have determined beforehand upon your attitude, upon what you wish the bird to appear to be doing; then, let your meaning be pointed by the bird’s bill. On the general subject of striking an attitude, and giving expression to a stuffed bird, little can be said to good purpose. If you are to become proficient in this art, it will come from your own study of birds in the field, your own good taste and apprecia- tion of bird-life. The manual processes are easily described and practised ; it is easy to grind paint, I suppose, but not so to be an artist. I shall therefore only follow the above account of the general processes with some special practical points. After “at- titudinising” to your satisfaction, or to the best of your ability, the plumage is to be carefully dressed. Feathers awry may be set in place with a light spring forceps, or needles fixed in a handle, one by one if necessary. When no individual feather seems out of place, it often occurs that the general plumage has a loose, slovenly aspect. This is readily corrected by wrapping with fine thread. Stick a pin into the middle of the back, another into the breast, and perhaps others elsewhere. Fasten the end of a spool of sewing cotton to one of the pins, and carry it to another, winding the thread about among the pins, till the whole surface is covered with an irregular network. ‘Tighten to reduce an undue prominence, loosen over a depression ; but let the wrapping as a whole be light, firm, and even. This procedure, nicely executed, will give a smooth- ness to the plumage not otherwise attainable, and may be made to produce the most exquisite curves, particularly about the head, neck, and breast. The thread should be left on till the bird is perfectly dry; it may then be unwound or cut off, and the pins withdrawn. When a particular patch of skin is out of place, it may often be pulled into position and pinned there. You need not be afraid of sticking pins in anywhere: they may be buried in the plumage and left there, or withdrawn when the skin is dry. In addition to the main stuffing, a little is often required in particular F 66 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PARTI places. As for the legs, they should be filled out in all such cases as I indicated earlier in this section; small birds require no such stuffing. It is necessary to fill out the eyes so that the lids rest naturally ; it may be done as heretofore directed, or by putting in pledgets of cotton from the outside. A little nice stuffing is gener- ally required about the upper throat. To stuff a bird with spread wings requires a special process, in most cases. The wings are to be wired, exactly as directed for the legs ; they may then be placed in any shape. But with most small birds, and those with short wings, simple pinning in the half-spread position indicating fluttering will suffice ; it is readily accomplished with a long, slender insect pin. I have already spoken of fixing the tail by pinning or wiring the pope’s-nose to the tow body; it may be thus fixed at any desired elevation or depression. There are two ways of spreading the tail. One is to run a pointed wire through the quills, near their base, where the wire will be hidden by the coverts ; each feather may be set at any required distance from the next by sliding it along this wire. This method is appli- cable to large birds; for small ones the tail may be fixed with the desired spread by enclosing it near its base in a split match, or two slips of cardboard, with the ends tied together. This holds the feathers until they dry in position, when it is to be taken off. Crests may be raised, spread, and displayed on similar principles. A small crest, like that of a cardinal or cherry bird, for instance, may be held up till it dries in position by sticking in behind it a pin with a little ball of cotton on its head. It is sometimes neces- sary to make a bird’s toes grasp a support by tying them down to it till they dry. The toes of waders that do not lie evenly on the surface of the stand may be tacked down with small brads. The bill may be pinned open or shut, as desired, by the method already given. Substitution of an artificial eye for the natural one is essential for the good looks of a specimen. Glass eyes, of all sizes and colours, may be purchased at a moderate cost. The pupil is always black ; the iris varies. You will, of course, secure the proper colour if it is known, but if not, put in a dark brown or black eye. It is well understood that this means nothing ; it is purely conventional. Yellow is probably the next most common colour; then come red, white, blue, and green, perhaps approximately in this order of frequency. But do not use these striking colours at haphazard; sacrificing truth, perhaps, to looks. Eyes are generally inserted after the specimen is dry. Remove a portion of the cotton from the orbit, and moisten the lids till they are perfectly pliable; fix the eye in with putty or wet plaster of Paris, making sure that the lids are naturally adjusted over it. It goes in obliquely, like a SEC, VII HOW TO MAKE A BIRDSKIN 67 button through a button-hole. Much art may be displayed in this little matter, making a bird look this way or that, to carry out the general expression. On finishing a specimen, set it away to dry; the time required varies, of course, with the weather, the size of the bird, its fatness, ete. The more slowly it dries, the better; there is less risk of the skin shrinking irregularly. You will often find that a specimen set away with smooth plumage and satisfactory curves dries more or less out of shape, perhaps with the feathers raised in places. I know of no remedy ; it may, in a measure, be prevented by scrupu- lous care in making the body smooth and firm, and in securing slow, equable drying. When perfectly dry remove the wrapping, pull out the superfluous pins or wires, nip off the others so short . that the ends are concealed, and insert the eyes. The specimen is then ready to be transferred to its permanent stand. Fixtures for the display of the object of course vary intermin- ably. We will take the simplest case, of a large collection of mounted birds for public exhibition. In this instance, uniformity and simplicity are desirable. “Spread eagle” styles of mounting, artificial rocks and flowers, etc., are entirely out of place in a collection of any scientific pretensions, or designed for popular instruction. Besides, they take up too much room. Artistic group- ing of an extensive collection is usually out of the question; and when this is unattainable, half-way efforts in that direction should be abandoned in favour of severe simplicity. Birds look best on the whole in uniform rows, assorted according to size, as far as a natural classification allows. They are best set on the plainest stands, with circular base and a short cylindrical crossbar on a lightly turned upright. The stands should be painted dead-white, and be no larger than is necessary for secure support; a neat stiff paper label may be attached. A small collection of birds, as an ornament to a private residence, offers a different case ; here variety of attitude and appropriate imitation of the birds’ natural surround- ings are to be secured. A miniature tree, on which a number of birds may be placed, is readily made. Take stout wire, and by bending it, and attaching other pieces, get the framework of the tree of the desired size, shape, and number of perches. Wrap it closely with tow to a proper calibre, remembering that the two forks of a stem must be together only about as large as the stem itself, Gather a basketful of lichens and tree moss; reduce them to coarse powder by rubbing with the hands; besmear the whole tree with mucilage or thin glue, and sift the lichen powder on it till the tow is completely hidden. This produces a very natural effect, which may be heightened by separately affixing larger scraps - of lichen, or little bunches of moss; artificial leaves and flowers 68 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I may be added at your taste. The groundwork may be similarly prepared with a bit of board, made adhesive and bestrewn with the same substance ; grasses and moss may be added. If a flat surface is not desired, soak stout pasteboard till it can be moulded in various irregular elevations and depressions ; lay it over the board and decorate it in the same way. Rocks may be thus nicely imitated, with the addition of powdered glass of various colours. Such a lot of birds is generally enclosed in a cylindrical glass case with arched top. As it stands on a table to be viewed from different points, it must be presentable on all sides. A niche in parlour or study is often fitted with a wall-case, which, when artistically arranged, has a very pleasing effect. As such cases may be of considerable size, there is opportunity for the display of great taste in grouping. A place is not to be found for a bird, but a bird for the place,—waders and swimmers below on the ground, perchers on projecting rests above. The surroundings may be prepared by the methods just indicated. One point deserves atten- tion here: since the birds are only viewed from the front, they may have a “show-side” to which everything else may be sacrificed. Birds are represented flying in such cases more readily than under other circumstances, supported on a concealed wire inserted in the back of the case. I have seen some very successful attempts to represent a bird swimming, the duck being let down part way through an oval hole in a plate of thick glass, underneath which were fixed stuffed fishes, shells, and seaweed. It is hardly necessary to add that in all ornamental collections, labels or other scientific machinery must be rigorously suppressed. Transportation of mounted birds offers obvious difficulty. Un- less very small, they are best secured immovably inside a box by screwing the foot of the stands to the bottom and sides, so that they stay in place without touching each other. Or, they may be carefully packed in cotton, with or without removal of the stands. Their preservation from accidental injury depends upon the same care that is bestowed upon ordinary fragile ornaments of the parlour. The ravages of insects are to be prevented upon the principles to be hereafter given in treating of the preservation of birdskins. § 8.—MISCELLANEOUS PARTICULARS Determination of Sex.—This is an important matter, which should never be neglected. For although many birds show un- equivocal sexual distinctions of size, shape, and colour, like those of SEC. VIII MISCELLANEOUS PARTICULARS 69 the barnyard cock and hen, for instance, yet the outward character- istics are more frequently obscure, if not altogether inappreciable, on examination of the skin alone. Young birds, moreover, are usually indistinguishable as to sex, although the adults of the same species may be easily recognised. The rule results, that the sexual organs should be examined as the only infallible indices. The essential organs of masculinity are the testicles ; similarly, the ovaries contain the essence of the female nature. However similar the accessory sexual structures may be, the testicles and ovaries are always distinct. The male organs of birds never leave the cavity of the belly to fill an external bag of skin (scrotum) as they do among mammals ; they remain within the abdomen, and lie in the same position as the ovaries of the female. Both these organs are situated in the belly opposite the ‘‘small of the back,” bound closely to the spine, resting on the front of the kidneys near their fore end. The testicles are a pair of subspherical or rather ellip- soidal bodies, usually of the same size, shape, and colour, and are commonly of a dull opaque whitish tint. They always lie close together. A remarkable fact connected with them is, that they are not always of the same size in the same bird, being subject to periodical enlargement during the breeding season, and corresponding atrophy at other seasons. Thus the testicles of a house sparrow, no bigger than a pin’s head in winter, swell to the size of peas in April. The ovary (for although this organ is paired originally, only one is usually functionally developed in birds) will be recognised as a flattish mass of irregular contour, and usually whitish colour ; when inactive, it simply appears of finely granular structure which may require a hand lens to be made out; when producing eggs, its appearance is unmistakable. Both testis and ovary may further be recognised by a thread leading to the end of the lower bowel,—in one case the sperm-duct, in the other the oviduct ; the latter is usually much the more conspicuous, as it at times transmits the perfect ege. There is no difficulty in reaching the site of these organs. Lay the bird on the left side, its belly toward you: cut with the scissors through the belly-walls diagonally from anus to the root of the last rib, or further, snipping across a few of the lower ribs, if these continue far down, as they do in a loon, for instance. Press the whole mass of intestines aside collectively, and you at once see to the small of the back. There you observe the kidneys, —large, lobular, dark reddish masses moulded into the concavity of the sacrum (or back middle bone of the pelvis); and on their surface, toward their fore end, lie testes or ovary, as just described. The only precaution required is, not to mistake for testicles a pair of small bodies capping the kidneys. These are the adrenals or suprarenal capsules,— organs whose function is unknown, but 70 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I with which at any rate we have nothing to do in this connection. They occur in both sexes, and if the testicles are not immediately seen, or the ovary not at once recognised, they might easily be mistaken for testicles. Observe that, instead of lying in front, they cap the kidneys ; that they are usually yellowish instead of opaque whitish ; and that they have not the firm, smooth, regular sphericity of the testicles. The testes, however, vary more in shape and colour than might be expected, being sometimes rather oblong or linear, and sometimes grayish or livid bluish, or reddish. There is occasionally but one. The sex determined, use the sign 6 or 9 to designate it, as already explained. Recognition of Age is a matter of ornithological experience requiring in many or most cases great familiarity with birds for its even approximate accomplishment. There are, however, some un- mistakable signs of immaturity, even after a bird has become full- feathered, that persist for at least one season. These are, in the first place, a peculiar soft fluffy feel of the plumage ; the feathers lack a certain smoothness, density, and stiffening which they subse- quently acquire. Secondly, the bill and feet are softer than those of the adults; the corners of the mouth are puffy and flabby, the edges and point of the bill are dull, and the scales, etc., of the legs are not sharply cut. Thirdly, the flesh itself is tender and pale coloured. These are some of the points common to all birds, and are independent of the special markings that belong to the youth of particular species. Some birds are actually larger for a while after leaving the nest than in after years when the frame seems to shrink somewhat in acquiring the compactness of senility. On the other hand, the various members, especially the bill and feet, are propor- tionally smaller at first. Newly growing quills are usually recog- nised on sight, the barrel being dark coloured and full of liquid, while the vanes are incomplete. In studying, for example, the shape of a wing or tail, there is always reason to suspect that the natural proportions are not yet presented, unless the quill is dry, colourless, and empty, or only occupied with shrunken white pith. Examination of the Stomach frequently leads to interesting observations, and is always worth while. In the first place, we learn most unquestionably the nature of the bird’s food, which is a highly important item in its natural history. Secondly, we often secure valuable specimens in other departments of zoology, particu- larly entomology. Birds consume incalculable numbers of insects, the harder kinds of which, such as beetles, are not seldom found intact in their stomachs; and a due percentage of these represent rare and curious species. The gizzards of birds of prey, in particular, should always be inspected, in search of the small mammals, etc., they devour ; and even if the creatures are unfit for preservation, SEC. VIII MISCELLANEOUS PARTICULARS 71 we at least learn of their occurrence, perhaps unknown before in a particular region. Mollusk-feeding and fish-eating birds yield their share of specimens. The alimentary canal is often the seat of parasites of various kinds, interesting to the helminthologist ; other species are to be found under the skin, in the body of muscle, in the brain, etc. Most birds are also infested with external parasites of many kinds, so various that almost every leading species has its own sort of louse, tick, etc. Since these creatures are only at home with a live host, they will be found crawling on the surface of the plumage, preparing for departure, as soon as the body cools after death. There is thus much to learn of a bird aside from what the prepared specimen teaches, and moreover apart from regular ana- tomical investigations. Whenever practicable, brief items should be recorded on the label, as already mentioned. Restoration of Poor Skins.—If your cabinet be a general one, comprising specimens from various sources, you will frequently happen to receive skins so badly prepared as to be unpleasant objects, besides failing to show their specific characters. There is, of course, no supplying of missing parts or plumage; but if the defect be simply deformity, this may usually be in a measure remedied. The point is simply to relax the skin, and then proceed as if it were freshly removed from the bird ; it is what bird-stuffers constantly do in mounting birds from prepared skins. The relaxa- tion is effected by moisture alone. Remove the stuffing; fill the interior with cotton or tow saturated with water, yet not dripping ; put pads of the same under the wings; wrap the bill and feet, and set the specimen in a damp, cool place. Small birds soften very readily and completely ; the process may be facilitated by persistent manipulation. This is the usual method, but there is another, more thorough and more effective ; it is exposure to a vapour-bath. The appointments of the kitchen stove furnish all the apparatus required for an extempore steamer; the regular fixture is a tin vessel much like a wash-boiler, with closed lid, false bottom, and stopcock at lower edge. On the false bottom is placed a heavy layer of gypsum, completely saturated with water ; the birds are laid on a perforated tray above it ; anda gentle heat is maintained over a stove. The vapour penetrates every part of the skin, and completely relaxes it, without actually wetting the feathers. The time required varies greatly of course; observation is the best guide. The chief precaution is not to let the thing get too hot. Professor Baird has remarked that crumpled or bent feathers may have much of their original elasticity restored by dipping in hot water. Immersion for a few seconds suffices, when the feathers will be observed to straighten out. Shaking off superfluous water, they may be simply left to dry, or they may be dried with plaster. 72 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I The method is chiefly applicable to the large feathers of the wings and tail. Soiled plumage of dried skins may be treated exactly as in the case of fresh skins. Mummification.—As before mentioned, decay may be arrested by injections of carbolic acid and other antiseptics ; if the tissues be sufficiently permeated with these substances, the body will keep indefinitely; it dries and hardens, becoming, in short, a mummy. Injection should be done by the mouth and vent, be thorough, and be repeated several times as the fluid dries in. It is an improve- ment on this to disembowel and fill the belly with saturated tow or cotton, Due care should be taken not to soil the feathers in any case, nor should the carbolic solution come in contact with the hands, for it is a powerful irritant poison. I mention the process chiefly to condemn it ; I cannot imagine what circumstances would recommend it, while only an extreme emergency could justify it. It is further objectionable because it appears to lend a dingy hue to some plumages, and to dull most of them perceptibly. Birds prepared—rather unprepared—in this way, may be relaxed by the method just described, and then skinned ; but the operation is difficult. Wet Preparations.—By this term is technically understood an object immersed in some preservative fluid. It is highly desirable to obtain more information of birds than their stuffed skins can ever furnish, and their structure cannot be always examined by dissection on the spot. In fact, a certain small proportion of the birds of any extensive collecting may be preferably and very profitably preserved in this way. Specimens in too poor plumage to be worth skinning may be thus utilised ; so may the bodies of skinned birds, which, although necessarily defective, retain all the viscera, and also afford osteological material. Alcohol is the liquid usually employed, and, of all the various articles recommended, seems to answer best on the whole. I have used a very weak solution of chloride of zine with excellent results ; it should not be strong enough to show the slightest turbidity. As glass bottles are liable to break when travelling, do not fit corners, and offer practical annoyance about corkage, rectangular metal cans, preferably of copper, with screw- lid opening, are advisable. They are to be set in small, strong, wooden boxes, made to leave a little room for the lid-wrench, muslin bags for doing up separate parcels, parchment for labels, etc. Unoccupied space in the cans should be filled with tow or a similar substance, to prevent the specimens from swashing about. Labelling should be on parchment; the writing should be perfectly dry before immersion ; india-ink is the best. Skinned bodies should be numbered to correspond with the dried skin from which taken ; otherwise they may not be identifiable. Large birds SEC. VIII MISCELLANEOUS PARTICULARS 73 thrown in unskinned should have the belly opened, to let in the alcohol freely. Birds may be skinned, after being in alcohol, by simply drying them; they often make fair specimens. Watery moisture that may remain after evaporation of the alcohol may be dried with plaster. Osteologieal and other Preparations (Figs. 1-3).—While complete skeletonising of a bird is a special art of some difficulty, and one that does not fall within the scope of this treatise, I may mention two bony preparations very readily made, and capable of rendering ornithology essential service. I refer to the skull, and to the breast-bone with its principal attachments. These parts of the skeleton are, as a rule, so highly characteristic that they afford in most cases invaluable zoological items. To save a skull is of course to sacrifice a skin, to all intents; but you often have mutilated or Fics. 1, 2.—Views of sternum and pectoral arch of the ptarmigan, Lagopus albus, reduced ; after A. Newton. (1) Lateral view, with the bones upside down ; (2) viewed from below. a, sternum or breast-bone, showing two long slender lateral processes ; b, ends of sternal ribs ; c, ends of humerus, or upper-arm bone, near the shoulder-joint ; d, scapula, or shoulder-blade ; e, coracoid ; f, merrythought, or furculum (clavicles). decayed specimens that are very profitably utilised in this way. The breast-bone (Figs. 1, 2, a) excepting when mutilated, is always preservable with the skin, and for choice invoices may form its natural accompaniment. You want to remove along with it the coracoids (the stout bones connecting the breast-bone with the shoulders, Figs. 1, 2, ¢), the merrythought (Figs. 1, 2, /) intervening between these bones, and the shoulder-blades (Figs. 1, 2, d), all without detachment from each other, for these bones collectively constitute the shoulder-girdle, or scapular arch. Slice off the large breast museles close to the bone, and divide their insertions into the wing-bones (c); scrape or cut away the muscles that tie the shoulder-blades to the chest ; snip off the ribs (Figs. 1, 2, 5) close to the side of the breast-bone ; sever a tough membrane usually found between the prongs of the wish-bone; then, by taking hold of the shoulders (Figs. 1, 2, at c), you can lift out the whole affair, dividing some slight connections underneath the bone and behind it. The 74 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I following points require attention ; the breast-bone often has long slender processes behind and on the sides (the common fowl and the ptarmigan are extreme illustrations of this, as shown in the figures), liable to be cut by mistake for ribs, or to be snapped ; the shoulder- blades usually taper to a point, easily broken off; the merrythought is sometimes very delicate or defective. When travelling, it is generally not advisable to make perfect preparations of either skull or sternum ; they are best dried with only superfluous flesh removed, and besprinkled with arsenic. The skull, if perfectly cleaned, is particularly liable to lose the anvil-shaped, pronged bones that hinge the jaw, and the freely movable pair that push on the palate from behind. Great care should be exercised respecting the identification of these bones, particularly the sternum, which should invariably bear the number of the specimen to which it belongs; the label should be tied to the coracoid bone. A skull is more likely to be able to speak for itself, and, besides, is not usually accompanied by a skin ; nevertheless, any record tending to facilitate its recognition should be duly entered on the register. There are methods of making elegant bony preparations. You may secure very good results by simply boiling the bones, or, what is perhaps better, macerating them in water till the flesh is completely rotted away, and then bleaching them in the sun. A little potassa or soda hastens the process. With breast-bones, if you can stop the process just when the flesh is completely dissolved, but the tougher liga- ments remain, you secure a “‘natural” preparation, as it is called; if the ligaments go too, the associate parts of a large specimen may be wired together, those of a small one glued. I think it best, with skulls, to clean them entirely of ligament as well as muscle ; for the underneath parts are usually those conveying the most desirable information, and they should not be in the slightest degree obscured. Since in such case the anvil-shaped bones, the palatal cylinders already mentioned, and sometimes other portions come apart, the whole are best kept in a suitable box. I prefer to see a skull with the sheath of the beak removed, though in some cases, particularly of hard-billed birds, it may profitably be left on. The completed preparations should be fully labelled by writing on the bone, in preference to an accompanying or attached paper slip, which may be lost. Some object to this, as others do to writing on eggs, that it defaces the specimen; but I confess I see in dry bones no beauty but that of utility. “In many families of birds, as the ducks (Anatide), the trachea or windpipe of the male affords valuable means of distinguishing between the different natural groups, or even species, chiefly by the form of the bony labyrinth, or bulla ossea, situated at or just above the divarication of the bronchial tubes. A little trouble will enable SEC. IX COLLECTION OF NESTS AND EGGS 75 the collector in all cases to preserve this organ perfectly, as repre- sented in the annexed engraving (Fig. 3). Before proceeding to skin the specimen a narrow-bladed knife should be introduced into its mouth, and by taking hold of the tongue (4) by the fingers or for- ceps, the muscles (B B) by which it is attached to the lower jaw should be severed as far as they can be reached, care being of course taken not to puncture the windpipe (CC) ; and later in the operation of skinning, when dividing the body from the neck or head, not to cut into or through it. This done, the windpipe can be easily withdrawn entire and separated from the neck, and then the sternal apparatus being removed as before described, its course must be traced to where, after branching off in a fork (D), the bronchial tubes (Z £) join the lungs. At these latter points it is to be cut off. Then rinsing it in cold water, and leaving it to dry partially, it may, while yet pliant, be either wrapped round the sternum, or coiled up and labelled separately” (Professor Alfred Newton). § 9—COLLECTION OF NESTS AND EGGS Ornithology and Oology are twin studies, or rather one includes the other. A collection of nests and eggs is indispensable for any thorough study of birds; and many persons find peculiar pleasure in forming one. Some, however, shrink from robbing birds’ nests as something particularly cruel—a sentiment springing, no doubt, from the sympathy and deference that the tender office of maternity inspires. But with all proper respect for the humane emotion, it may be said simply, that birds’-nesting is not nearly so cruel as bird- shooting. What I said in a former section, in endeavouring to guide search for birds, applies in substance to hunting for their nests ; the essential difference is, that the latter are of Fic. 3.—Trachea or wind- pipe of the male red-breasted merganser, Mergus serrator, about 4 nat. size, viewed from above(behind); after Newton. A, tongue; BB, its attach- ments ; CC, windpipe, dilated in the middle and swelling below into a bony box, D; E E, bronchial tubes, going to lungs. 76 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I course stationary objects, and consequently more liable to be over- looked, other things being equal, than birds themselves. Most birds nest on trees or bushes ; many on the ground and on rocks ; others in hollows. Some build elegant, elaborate structures, endlessly varied in details of form and material; others make no nest whatever. Egging is chiefly practicable in May and during the summer ; but some species, particularly birds of prey, begin to lay late in winter or early in spring, so there is really a long period for search. Par- ticular nests, of course, like the birds that build them, can only be found through ornithological knowledge; but general search is usually rewarded with a varied assortment. The best clue to a hidden nest is the action of the parents; patient watchfulness is commonly successful in tracing the bird’s home. As the science of oology has not progressed to the point of determining from the nests and eggs to what bird they belong, in even a majority of cases, the utmost care in authentication is indispensable. To be worth anything, not to be worse than worthless in fact, an egg must be identified be- yond question ; must be not only unsuspected, but above suspicion. A shade of suspicion is often attached to dealers’ eggs; not neces- sarily implying bad faith or even negligence on the dealer’s part, but from the nature of the case. It is often extremely difficult to make an unquestionable determination, as, for instance, when numbers of birds of similar habits are breeding close together; or even impossible, as in case the parent eludes observation. Sometimes the most acute observer may be mistaken, circumstances appearing to’ prove a parentage when such is not the fact. It is in general advisable to secure the parent with the eggs: if shot or snared on the nest, the identification is unquestionable. If you do not yourself know the species, it then becomes necessary to secure the specimen, and retain it with the eggs. It is not required to make a perfect preparation ; the head, or better, the head and a wing, will answer the purpose. When egging in downright earnest, a pair of climbing irons, a coil of # inch rope, and a tin collecting box filled with cotton, become indispensable; these are the only field implements required in addition to those already specified. Preparing Eggs.—For blowing eggs, a set of special tools is needed. These are egg-drills,—steel implements with a sharp- pointed conical head of rasping surface, and a slender shaft ; several such, of different sizes, are needed ; also, blow-pipes of different sizes, a delicate thin pair of scissors, light spring forceps, some little hooks, and a small syringe. They are inexpensive, and may be had of any dealer in naturalists’ supplies (see Figs. 4-7). Eggs, should never be blown in the old way of making a hole at each end; nor are two holes anywhere usually required. Opening should be effected on one side, preferably that showing least conspicuous or SEC. IX COLLECTION OF NESTS AND EGGS 77 characteristic markings. near together ; on the same side at any rate. But one is generally sufficient, as the fluid contents can escape around the blow-pipe. Holding the egg gently but steadily in the fingers,1 apply the point of the drill perpendicularly to the surface, unless it be pre- ferred to prick with a needle first. A twirling motion of the instru- ment gradually enlarges the open- ing by filing away the shell, and so bores a smooth-edged circular hole. This should be no larger than is required to insert the blow-pipe loosely, with room for the contents to escape around it. Nor is it always necessary to , insert the pipe; a fine stream o If two are made, they should be rather 1 | 1 Hl 4 ‘ 1 H | pee! § Fia. 4.—Egg-drills, different sizes, nat. size ; f after Newton. water may be easily injected by holding the instrument close to the egg, but not quite touching. The blowing should be contin- uous and equable, rather than for- cible; a strong puff easily bursts a delicate egg. Be sure that all the contents are -re- moved; then rinse the interior thoroughly with clean water, either by taking a mouthful and sending it through a blow- pipe, or with the Fic. 5.—Instruments for blowing eggs ; after Newton. a, b, blow- syringe. Blowing ipes, 4 nat. size; c, wire for cleansing them; d, syringe, 4 nat. size tthe ring of the handle must be large enough to insert the thumb) ; e, bulbous insufflator, for sucking eggs. eggs is a rather fatiguing process ; 1 The usual method of emptying eggs through one small hole is doubtless 78 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PARTI the cheek-muscles soon tire, and the operator becomes “blown” himself before long. The operation had better be done over a basin of water, both to receive the contents, and to catch the ege if it slip from the fingers.) The membrane lining the shell a a) 3 A) = Fee SEE Fia. 6.—Scissors, knives, and forceps, } nat. size ; after Newton. should be removed if possible. It may be seized by the edge around the hole, with the forceps, and drawn out, or picked out with a bent pin. Frc. 7.—Hooks for extracting But this is scarcely to be accomp- cmbryos) ats size; after New> 3 2 ton. a, b, c, plain hooks; d, lished in the case of fresh eggs, when pill-hook, having cutting edge oN fs J ity. the membrane may be simply pared = "8 * concavity smoothly around the edge of the hole. Eggs that have been incubated of course offer difficulty, in proportion to the size of the embryo. The supposed to be a very modern trick; but it dates back at least to 1828, when M. Danger proposed “a new method of preparing and preserving eggs for the cabinet,” which is practically the one now followed, though he used a three-edged needle to prick the hole, instead of our modern drill, and did not appear to know some of our ways of managing the embryo. I make this reference to his article to call attention to one of the tools he recommends, which I think would prove useful, as being better than the fingers for holding an egg during drilling and blowing. The simple instru- ment will be understood from a glance at the figure given in the Nuttall Bulletin, iti. 1878, p. 191. The oval rings are covered with a light fabric, as mosquito-netting or muslin, and do not touch the egg, which is held lightly but securely in the netting, The cost would be trifling, and danger might be avoided by Danger’s method. SEC. IX COLLECTION OF NESTS AND EGGS 79 hole may be drilled, as before, but it must be larger; and as the drill is apt to split a shell after it has bored beyond a certain size of hole, it is often well to prick, with a fine needle, a circular series of minute holes almost touching, and then remove the enclosed circle of shell. This must be very carefully done, or the needle will indent or crack the shell, which, it must be remembered, grows more brittle towards the time of hatching. Well-formed embryos cannot be got bodily through any hole that can be made in an egg ; they must be extracted piecemeal. They may be cut to pieces with the slender scissors introduced through the hole, and the fragments be picked out with the forceps, hooked out, or blown out. No embryo should be forced through a hole too small; there is every probability that the shell will burst at the critical moment. Addled eggs, the contents of which are thickened or hardened, offer some difficulty, to overcome which persistent syringing and repeated rinsing are required ; or it may be necessary to fill them with water, and set them away for such length of time that the contents dis- solve by maceration ; carbonate of soda is said to hasten the solution; the process may be repeated as often as may be necessary. In no event must any of the animal contents be suffered to remain in the shell. When emptied and rinsed, eggs should be gently wiped dry, and set hole downward on blotting-paper to drain! Broken eggs may beneatly mended, sometimes with a film of collodion, or a bit of tissue paper and paste, or the edges may be simply stuck together with any adhesive substance. Even when fragmentary a rare egg is worth preserving. Eggs should ordinarily be left empty; indeed, the only case in which any filling is admissible is that of a defective 1 Reinforcing the Eggshell before Blowing.—Fig. 8 “shows a piece of paper, a number of which, when gummed. on to an egg, one over the other, and left to dry, strengthen the shell in such a manner that the instruments above described can be introduced through the aperture in the middle and worked to the best advantage, and thus a fully formed embryo may be cut up, and the pieces extracted, through a very moderately sized hole , the number of thicknesses required depends, of course, greatly upon the size of the egg, the length of time it has been incubated, ax and the stoutness of the shell and the paper. Five or six [ is the least number that it is safe to use. Each piece c. should be left to dry before the next is gummed on. The slits in the margin cause them to set pretty smoothly, which will be found very desirable ; the aperture in the middle of each may be cut out first, or the whole series of layers may be drilled through when the hole is made in the egg. For convenience’ sake, the papers may be prepared already Fia. 8.—Nat. size. gummed, and moistened when put on (in the same way that adhesive postage labels are used). Doubtless, patches of linen or cotton cloth would answer equally well. When the operation is over, a slight application of water (especially if warm) through the syringe will loosen them so that they can be easily removed, and they can be separated from one another, and dried to serve another time. The size represented in the sketch is that suitable for an egg of moder- ate dimension, such as that of a common fowl. The most effectual way of adopting 80 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I specimen to which some slight solidity can be imparted with cotton. It is unnecessary even to close up the hole. It is best, on all accounts, to keep eggs in sets, a set being the natural clutch, or whatever less number was taken from a nest. The most scrupu- lous attention must be paid to accurate, complete, and permanent labelling. So important is this, that the undeniable defacing of a specimen, by writing on it, is no offset to the advantages accruing from such fixity of record. It is practically impossible to attach a label, as is done with a birdskin, and a loose label is always in danger of being lost or displaced. Write on the shell, then, as many items as possible; if done neatly, on the side in which the hole was bored, at least one good “show side” remains. An egg should always bear the same number as the parent, in the collector's record. In a general collection, where separate ornithological and oological registers are kept, identification of egg with parent is nevertheless readily secured, by making one the numerator the other the denominator of a fraction, to be simply inverted in its respective application. Thus, bird No. 456 and egg No. 123 are identified by making the former 43%, the latter 123. All the egos of a clutch should have the same number. If the shell be large enough, the name of the species should be written on it; if too small, it should be accompanied by a label, and may have the name indicated by’a number referring to a certain catalogue. According to my “Check List,” for example, No. 4 would indicate Turdus iliacus, the common redwing. The date of collection is a highly desirable item; it may be abbreviated thus: 3/6/82 means 3d June 1882. It is well to have the egg authenticated by the collector’s initials at least. Since sets of eggs may be broken up for dis- tribution to other cabinets, yet permanent indication of the size of the clutch be wanted, it is well to have some method. A good one is to write the number of the clutch on each egg composing it, giving each egg of the set, moreover, its individual number. Sup- posing, for example, the clutch No. 42? contained five eggs ; one of of them would be 735 /5/1: the next 123 /5/2, and so on. But it should be remembered that all such arbitrary memoranda must be systematic, and be accompanied by a key. Eggs may be kept in cabinets of shallow drawers in little pasteboard trays, each hold- ing a set, and containing a paper label on which various items that this method of emptying eggs is by using very many layers of thin paper and plenty of thick gum, but this is, of course, the most tedious. Nevertheless, it is quite worth the trouble in the case of really rare specimens, and they will be none the worse for operating upon from the delay of a few days caused by waiting for the gum to dry and harden. The naturalist to whom this method first occurred has found it auswer remarkably well in every case in which it has been used, from the egg of au eagle to that of a humming-bird, and among English oologists it has been generally adopted” (A. Newton, in Smithsonian Misc. Coll., p. 139, 1860). SEC, IX COLLECTION OF NESTS AND EGGS 81 cannot be traced on the shell are written in full. Such trays should all be of the same depth,—half an inch is a convenient depth for general purposes ; and of assorted sizes, say from one inch by one and one-half inches up to three by six inches; it is convenient to have the dimensions regularly graduated by a constant factor of, say half an inch, so that the little boxes may be set side by side, either lengthwise or crosswise, without interference. Eggs may also be kept safely, advantageously, and with attractive effect, in the nests themselves, in which a fluff of cotton may be placed to steady them. When not too bulky, too loosely constructed, or of material unsuit- able for preservation, nests should always be collected! Those that are very closely attached to twigs should not be torn off. Nests threatening to come to pieces, or too frail to be handled with- out injury, may be secured by sewing through and through with 1 “A Plea for the Study of Nests,” made by Mr. Ernest Ingersoll in his excellent Birds’-Nesting, suits me so well that I will transcribe it. ‘‘ Whether or not it is worth while to collect nests—for there are many persons who never do so—is, it seems to me, only a question of room in the cabinet. As a scientific study there is far more advantage to be obtained from a series of nests than from u series of eggs. The nest is something with which the will and energies of the bird are concerned. It expresses the character of the workman ; is to a certain extent an index of its rank among birds,—for in general those of the highest organisation are the best architects, —and give us a glimpse of the bird’s mind and power to understand and adapt itself to changed conditions of life. Over the shape and ornamentation of an egg the bird has no control, being no more able to govern the matter than it can the growth of its beak. There is as much difference to me, in the interest inspired, between the nest and the egg of a bird, as between its brain and its skull,—using the word brain to mean the seat of intellect. The nest is always more or less the result of conscious planning and intelligent work, even though it does follow a hereditary habit in its style ; while the egg is an automatic production varying, if at all, only as the whole organisation of the bird undergoes change. Don’t neglect the nests then. In them more than anywhere else lies the key to the mind and thoughts of a bird, —the spirit which inhabits that beautiful frame and bubbles out of that golden mouth. And is it not this inner life,—this human significance in bird nature,—this soul of ornitho- logy, that we are all aiming to discover? Nests are beautiful, too. What can sur- pass the delicacy of the humming-bird’s home glued to the surface of a mossy branch or nestling in the warped point of a pendent leat; the vireo’s silken hammock ; the oriole’s gracefully swaying purse ; the blackbird’s model basket in the flags ; the snug little caves of the marsh wrens ; the hermitage-huts of the shy wagtails and ground warblers, the stout fortresses of the sociable swallows! Moreover, there is much that is highly interesting which remains to be learned about nests, and which can only be known by paying close attention to these artistic masterpieces of animal art. We want to know by what sort of skill the many nests are woven together that we find it so hard even to disentangle ; we want to know how long they are in being built ; whether there is any particular choice in respect to location ; whether it be a rule, as is supposed, that the female bird is the architect, to the exclusion of her mate’s efforts further than his supplying a part of the materials. Many such points remain to be cleared up. Then there is the question of variation, and its extent in the archi- tect of the same species in different quarters of its ranging area. How far is this carried, and how many varieties can be recorded from a single district, where the same list of materials is open to all the birds equally? Variation shows individual opinion or taste among the builders as to the suitability of this or that sort of timber or fur- niture for their dwellings, and observations upon it thus increase our acquaintance with the scope of ideas and habits characteristic of each species of bird.” G 82 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I fine thread : indeed, this is an advisable precaution in most cases. Packing eggs for transportation requires much care, but the pre- cautions to be taken are obvious. I will only remark that there is no safer way than to leave them in their own nests, each wrapped in cotton, with which the whole cavity is to be lightly filled; the nests themselves being packed close enough to be perfectly steady. § 10.—CARE OF A COLLECTION Well-preserved Specimens will last “for ever and a day,” so far as natural decay is concerned. I have handled birds in good state, shot back in the twenties, and have no doubt that some eighteenth-century preparations are still extant. The precautions against defilement, mutilation, or other mechanical injury, are self- evident, and may be dismissed with the remark, that white plum- ages, especially if at all greasy, require the most care to guard against soiling. We have, however, to fight for our possessions against a host of enemies, individually despicable but collectively formidable,—foes so determined that untiring vigilance is required to ward off their attacks even temporarily, whilst in the end they prove invincible. It may be said that to be eaten up by insects is the natural end of all bird-skins not sooner destroyed. Insect Pests (Figs. 9, 10, 11, 12) with which we have to con- tend belong principally to the two families Tineide and Dermestide —the former are moths, the latter beetles. The moths are of species identical with, and allied to, the common clothes-moth, Tinea flavifrontella, the carpet moth, 7. tapetzelia, etc.,—small species observed flying about our apartments and museums, in May and during the summer. The beetles are several rather small thick-set species, principally of the genera Dermestes and Anthrenus. I am able to figure species of these genera, with their larval stages, and of two other genera, Pinus and Sitodrepa, through the attentions of Professor C. V. Riley, the eminent entomologist. The larvee (“cater- pillars” of the moths, and “grubs” of the beetles) appear to be the chief agents of the destruction. The presence of the mature insects is usually readily detected ; on disturbing an infested suite of specimens the moths flutter about, and the beetles crawl as fast as they can into shelter, or simulate death. The insidious larva, however, are not so easily observed, burrowing as they do among the feathers, or in the interior of a skin; whilst the minute eggs are commonly altogether overlooked. But these insects are not long at work without leaving their unmistakable traces. Shreds of feathers float off when a specimen is handled, or fly out on flip- SEC. X CARE OF A COLLECTION 83 ping the skin with the fingers, and in bad cases even whole bundles of plumes come away at a touch. Sometimes, leaving the plumage intact, insects eat away the horny covering of the bill and feet, making an irreparable mutilation. It would appear that when the pests effect lodgment in any one skin, they usually finish it before attacking another, unless they are in great force. We may con- Fic. 9.—Anthrenus scrophulariw, enlarged ; the short line shows nat. size. u, b, larve ; c, pupa; d, imago. Fic. 10.—Dermestes lardarius, Fic. 11.—Sitodrepa panicea, Fia. 12.—Ptinus brunneus. enlarged. a, larva; b, anenlarged enlarged. a, imago; 0, its an- hair; c, imago. tenna, more enlarged. sequently, by prompt removal of an infested specimen, save further depredations ; nevertheless, the rest become suspicious, and the whole drawer or box should be quarantined, if not submitted to any of the processes described beyond. Our lines of defence are several. We may mechanically oppose entrance of the enemy; we may meet him with abhorrent odours that drive him off, sicken or kill him, and finally we may cook him to death. I will notice these methods successively, taking occasion to describe a cabinet under the first head. 84 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I Cases for Storage or Transportation should be rather small, for several reasons. They are easier to handle and pack. There are fewer birds pressing each other. Particular specimens are more readily reached. Insects must effect just so many more separate entrances to infest the whole. Small lids are more readily fitted tight. For the ordinary run of small birds I should not desire a box over 18 x 18 x 18 inches, and should prefer a smaller one; for large birds, a box just long enough for the biggest specimen, and of other proportions to correspond, is most eligible. Whatever the dimensions, a proper box presupposes perfect jointing ; but if any suspicion be entertained on this score, stout paper should be pasted along all the edges, both inside and out. We have practically to do with the lid only. If the lot is likely to remain long untouched, the cover may be screwed very close and the crack pasted like the others. Under other and usual circumstances the lid may be pro- vided with a metal boss fitting a groove lined with india-rubber or filled with wax. An excellent case may be made of tin with the lid secured in this manner, and further fortified with a wooden casing. Birgskins entirely free from insects or their eggs, encased in some such secure manner, will remain intact indefinitely ; but there is misery in store if any bugs or nits be put away with them. Cabinets.—As a matter of fact, most collections are kept readily accessible for examination, display, or other immediate use, and this precludes any disposition of them in hermetical cases. The most we can do is to secure tight fitting of movable woodwork. The cabinet is most eligible for private collections. This is, in effect, simply a bureau, or chest of drawers, protected with folding doors, or a front that may be detached, either of plain wood or sashing for panes of glass. It is astonishing how many birdskins of average size can be accommodated in a cabinet that makes no inconvenient piece of furniture for an ordinary room. A cabinet may of course be of any desired size, shape, and style. In general it will be better to put money into excellence of fitting rather than elegance of finish ; the handsomest front does not compensate for a crack in the back or for a drawer that hitches. There should not be the slightest flaw in the exterior, and doors should fit so tightly that a puff of air may be felt on closing them. The greatest desideratum of the interior work, next after close fitting yet smooth running of the drawers, is economy of space. This is secured by making the drawers as thin as is consistent with stability ; by having them slide by a boss at each end fitting a groove in the side wall, instead of resting on horizontal partitions; and by hinged countersunk handles instead of knobs. I do not recommend, except for a suite of the smallest birds, a multiplicity of shallow drawers, accommodat- ing each one layer of specimens ; it is better to have fewer deeper SEC. X CARE OF A COLLECTION 85 drawers, into which light shallow movable trays are fitted. These trays never need be of stuff over one-eighth or one-fourth of an inch thick, and may have bottoms of stiff pasteboard glued or tacked on. They may vary from one-half inch to two inches in depth, but this dimension should always be some factor of the depth of the drawer, so that a certain number of trays may exactly fill it. They should be just as long as one transverse dimension of the drawer, and rather narrow, so that two or more are set side by side. Finally, though they may be of different depths, they should be of the same length and breadth, so as to be interchangeable. They may simply rest on top of each other, or slide on separate projections inside the drawer. Such trays are extremely handy for holding particular sets of specimens, to be carried to the study table without disturbing the rest of the collection. If a collection be so extensive that any particular specimen may not be readily hunted up, it will be found convenient to have the drawers themselves labelled with the name of the group within. A collection should always be methodically arranged—preferably according to some approved or supposed natural classification of birds ; this is also the readiest mode, since, with some conspicuous exceptions, birds of the same natural group are approximately of the same size. If I were desired to suggest proportions for a private cabinet of most general eligibility, I should say four feet high, by three feet wide, by two feet deep, in the clear; this makes a portly yet not unwieldy-looking object. It is wide enough for folding- doors, to be secured by bolts at top and bottom, and lock; not so high that the top drawer is not readily inspected ; and of propor- tionate depth. Such a case will take seven drawers six inches deep either of the full width or in two series with a median partition ; these drawers will hold anything up to an eagle or crane. A part of them at least should have a full complement of such trays as I have described,—say three or four tiers of the shallower trays, three trays to a tier, each about two feet long by about a foot wide; and one or two tiers of deeper trays. To Destroy Insects.—In our present case prevention is not the best remedy, simply because it is not always practicable ; in spite of all mechanical precautions the insects will get in. We have, therefore, to see what will destroy them, or at least stop their ravages. It isa general rule that any pungent aromatic odour is obnoxious to them, and that any very light powdery substance restrains their movements by getting into the joints and breathing pores. Both these qualities are secured in the ordinary insect powder, to be had of any leading druggist. It should be lavishly strewn on and among the skins, and laid in the corners of the drawers and trays. Thus employed it proves highly effective, and 86 FIELD ORNITHOLOGY PART I is on the whole the most eligible substance to use when a collection is constantly handled. Camphor is a valuable agent. Small fragments may be strewn about the drawers, or a lump pinned in mosquito netting in a corner. Benzine is also very useful. A small saucerful may be kept evaporating, or the liquid may be sprinkled—even poured—directly over the skins ; it is very volatile and leaves little or no stain. It is, however, obviously ineligible when a collection is in constant use. My friend Mr. Allen informs me he has used sulphide of carbon with great success. The objection to this agent is, that it is a stinking poison ; should be used in the open air, to escape the ineffably disgusting and dele- terious odours, and its employment is properly restricted to cases for storage. When the bill or feet show they are attacked, further depredation may be prevented by pencilling with a strong solution of corrosive sublimate ; a weaker solution, one that leaves no white film, on drying, on a black feather, may even be brushed over the whole plumage. Mr. Ridgway tells me that oil of bitter almonds is equally efficacious. But remember that these poisons must be used with care. Specimens may be buried in coarse refuse tobacco leaves. One or another of these lines of defence will commonly prove successful in destroying or driving off mature insects, and even in stopping the ravages of the larve ; but I doubt that any such means will kill the eggs. With these we must deal otherwise ; and their destruction no less than that of their parents is assured, if we subject them to a high temperature. Baking birdskins is really the only process that can make us feel perfectly safe. Infected specimens, along with suspected ones, should be subjected to a dry heat, from 212° F. up to any degree short of singeing the plumage. This is readily done by putting the birds in a wooden tray in any oven—they must however be watched, unless you have special contrivances for regulating the temperature. How long a time is required is probably not ascertained with precision ; it will be well to bake for several hours. When the beetles and larve are found completely parched, it may be confidently believed that the unseen eggs are out of the hatching way for ever. Arsenic helps to keep out the bugs, besides preventing decay—a fact that should never be forgotten, and that should give sharper edge to my advice respecting lavish use of the substance at the outset. If it be true, as some state, that bugs can eat arsenic without dying, it is also true that they do not relish it; and in entering a case of skins they will burrow by preference in those holding the least of it. This fact is continually exhibited in large collections, where if two birds be side by side, one being duly arsenicised and the other not so, one will be taken and the other left. It is also a fact in the natural history of these our pests, that they are fond of peace and SEC. X CARE OF A COLLECTION 87 quiet,—they do not like to be disturbed at their meals. So they rarely effect permanent lodgment in a collection that is constantly handled, though the doors stand open for hours daily. As a con- sequence, the degree of our diligence in studying birdskins is likely to become the measure of our success in preserving them. I once read a work, by an eminent divine, on the Moral Uses of Dark Things, under which head the author included every dark thing from earthquakes to mosquitoes. If there be a moral use in the “ dark thing” that museum pests certainly are to us, we have it here. The very bugs urge on our work. Fic. 13,—ALEXANDER WILSON’S SCHOOL-HOUSE, NEAR GRAY's FERRY, PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. From a drawing by M. S. Weaver, Oct. 22, 1841, received by Elliot Coues, February 1879, from Malvina Lawson, daughter of Alexander Lawson, Wilson’s engraver. See article in the Penn Monthly, June 1879, p. 448. The drawing was first engraved on wood, and published, by Thomas Meehan, in the Gardener's Monthly, August 1880, p. 248. The present impression is from an electrotype of that woodcut. The size of the original is 5-10x3'95 inches. This re- ae of early days of ‘Field Ornithology” in America may be further attested by the signature o: = Cie PART II GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY AN OUTLINE OF THE STRUCTURE AND CLASSIFICATION OF BIRDS GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY § 1.—DEFINITION OF BIRDS GENERAL Ornithology, like Field Ornithology, is a subject with which the student must have some acquaintance, if he would hope to derive either pleasure or profit from the Birds of Great Britain. For any intelligent understanding of this subject, he must become reasonably familiar with the technical terms used in describing and classifying birds, and learn at least enough of the structure of these creatures to appreciate the characters upon which all description and classification is based. Extensive and varied and accurate as may be his random perception of objects of natural history, his knowledge is not scientific, but only empirical, until reflection comes to aid observation, and conceptions of the significance of what he knows are formed by logical processes in the mind. For Science (Lat. scire, to know) is knowledge set in order; know- ledge disposed after the rational method that best shows, or _ tends to show best, the true relations of observed facts. Sound scientific facts are the natural basis of all philosophic truth, and _the safest stepping-stones to religious faith,—to that wisdom which comes only of knowing the relation which material entities bear to spiritual realities. The orderly knowledge of any particular class of facts—the methodical disposition of observa- tions upon any particular set of objects—constitutes a Special Science. Thus Ornithology (Gr. dpviOos, ornithos, of a bird; Adyos, logos, a discourse) is the Science of Birds. Ornithology consists in the rational arrangement and exposition of all that is known of birds, and the logical inference of much that is not known. Ornithology treats of the physical structure, physiological processes, and mental attributes of birds; of their habits and manners; of their geo- 92 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II graphical distribution and geological succession ; of their probable ancestry ; of their every relation to one another and to all other animals, including man,—in short, of their significance in Nature. The first business of Ornithology is to define its ground—to answer the question What is a Bird ?—There is every reason to believe that a Bird is a greatly modified Reptile, being the offspring by direct descent of some reptilian progenitor; and there is no reason to suppose that any bird ever had any other origin than by due process of hatching out of an ege laid by its mother after fecundation by its father,—just what we believe to have been the invariable method during the period of the world known to human history. There is no reason to believe that any bird was ever originally created and endowed with the characters it now possesses; but that every bird now living is the naturally modified lineal descendant of parents that were less and less like itself, and more and more like certain reptiles, the further removed they were in the line of avian ancestry from such birds as are now living. This is the Darwinian logic of observed facts, upon which the modern Theory of Evolution is based, in opposition to the tradition of the special creation of every species of animal; which latter has no scientific basis whatever, and is consequently accepted as true by few thoughtful persons who are capable of forming independent judgments. Accordingly, Birds and Reptiles—even those of the present geologic epoch —share so many and so important structural characters, that the chiefs of science of our day are wont to unite the two classes, Aves and Keptilia, in one primary group of the Vertebrata, or animals with a backbone. This group is called Sauropsida, or reptiliforms ; it is contrasted, on the one hand, with Ichthyopsida, or fish-like vertebrates, including Batrachians as well as Fishes; and, on the other, with Mammalia, the province of the Vertebrata which in- cludes Man and all other animals that suckle their young. We find that The Sauropsida (Gr. caipos, sauros, a reptile ; dys, opsis, appear- ance), or lizard-like Vertebrates, agree with one another, and differ from other animals, in the following important combination of char- acters, substantially as laid down by Professor Huxley,—some of the characters being shared by the Ichthyopsida, and some by the Mammalia, but the sum of the characters being distinctive of Sawrop- sida: they are all oviparous (laying eggs hatched outside the body of the parent), or ovoviviparous (laying eggs hatched inside the body of the parent), being never viviparous (bringing forth alive young nourished before birth by the blood of the mother). The embryo develops those fcetal organs called amnion and allantois, and is SEC. I DEFINITION OF BIRDS 93 nourished before hatching by the great quantity of food-yolk in the ege. ‘There are no mammary glands to furnish the young with milk after birth. The generative, urinary, and digestive organs come together behind in a common receptacle, the cloaca, or sewer, and their products are discharged by a single orifice. The kidneys of the early embryo, called Wolffian bodies, are soon replaced func- ‘tionally by permanent kidneys, and structurally by the testes of the male and the ovaries of the female. The cavity of the abdomen, or belly, is not separated from that of the thorax, or chest, by a com- plete muscular partition, or diaphragm. The great lateral hemi- spheres of the brain are not connected by a transverse commissure, or corpus callosum. Air is always breathed by true lungs, never by gills. The blood, which may be cold or hot, has red oval nucleated corpuscles ; the heart has either three or four separate chambers,— the latter in birds, in which the circulation of the hot blood is com- pletely double, i.c. in the lungs and one side of the heart, in the body at large and the other side of the heart. The aortic arches are several; or if but one, as in birds, it is the right, not the left'as in mammals. The centra, or bodies, of the vertebre are ossified, but have no terminal epiphyses. The skull hinges upon the backbone by a single median protuberance, or condyle, and the bone (basioccipital) bearing this condyle is completely ossified. The lower jaw consists of several separate pieces, the articular one of which hinges upon a mov- able quadrate bone; and there are other peculiarities in the formation of the skull. The ankle-joint is situated, not, as in Mammals, between the tarsal bones and those of the leg, but between two rows of tarsal bones. The skin is usually covered with outgrowths, in the form of scales or feathers. Different as are any living members of the class of Birds from any known Reptiles, the characters of the two groups converge in geologic history so closely, that the presence of feathers in the former class, and their absence from the latter, is one of the most positive differences we have found. The oldest known birds are from the Jurassic rocks of Europe, and the Cretaceous beds of North America. These birds had teeth, and various other strong peculiarities of structure, which no living members of the class have retained. AVES, or the Class of Birds, may be distinguished from other Sauropsida, for all that is known to the contrary, by the following sum of characters: The body is covered with feathers, a kind of skin-outgrowth no other animals possess. The blood is hot; the circulation is completely double; the heart is perfectly four- chambered ; there is but one (the right) aortic arch, and only one pulmonary artery springs from the heart; the aortic and the pul- monary artery have each three semilunar valves. The lungs are fixed and moulded to the cavity of the chest, and some of the air- 04 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II passages run through them to admit air to other parts of the body, as under the skin and in various bones. Reproduction is oviparous ; the eggs are very large, in consequence of their copious yolk and white ; have a hard chalky shell, and are hatched outside the body of the parent. There are always four limbs, of which the fore or pectoral pair are strongly distinguished from the hind or pelvic pair by being modified into wings, fitted for flying, if at all, by means of feathers—not of skin as in the cases of such mammals, reptiles, and fishes as can fly. The terminal part of the limb is compressed and reduced, bearing never more than three digits, only two of which ever have claws, and no claws being the rule. There are not more than two separate carpals, or wrist-bones, in adult recent birds (with very rare exceptions); nor any distinct inter- clavicular bone. The clavicles are complete (with rare exceptions), and coalesce to form a “‘wish-bone” or “merrythought.” The sternum, or breast-bone, is large, usually carinate, or keeled, and the ribs are attached to its sides only ; it is developed from two to five or more centres of ossification. The sacral vertebre proper have no expanded ribs abutting against the iia ; the ilia, or haunch-bones, are greatly prolonged forward; the socket for the head of the femur, or thigh-bone, is a ring, not a cup; the ischia and pubes are prolonged backward in parallel directions, and neither of these bones ever unites with its fellow in a ventral symphysis (except in Struthio and Rhea). The fibula, or outer bone of the leg, is incomplete below, taking no part in the ankle-joint. The astragalus, or upper bone of the tarsus, unites with the ébia, or inner bone of the leg, leaving the ankle-joint between itself and other tarsal bones, the lower of which latter similarly unites with the bones of the instep, or metatarsus. There are never more than four metatarsal bones, and the same number of digits; the first or inner metatarsal bone is usually free, and incomplete above; the other three anchylose (fuse) together, and with distal tarsal bones, as already said, to form a compound tarso-metatarsus. Recent birds, at any rate, have a certain saddle-shape of the ends of the bodies of some vertebra. Such birds have also no teeth and no fleshy lips; the jaws are covered with horny or leathery integument, as the feet are also, when not feathered. The Position of the Class Aves among other Vertebrates is definite. Birds come in the scale of development next below the Class Mammalia, and no close links between Birds and Mammals are known ; the most bird-like known mammal, the duck-billed platypus of Australia (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus), being several steps beyond any known bird. Birds are the higher one of the two classes of Sawropsida—the lower class, Reptilia, connecting with the Batrachians (frogs, toads, newts, ete.), and so with the Fishes, Ichthyopsida. In SEC. I DEFINITION OF BIRDS 95 this Vertebrate series, Birds constitute what is called a highly specialised group ; that is to say, a very particular offshoot, or, more literally, a side-issue, of the Vertebrate genealogical tree, which in the present geological era has become developed into very numerous (about 10,000) species, closely agreeing with one another in the peculiar sum of their physical character. In comparison with other classes of Vertebrates, all birds are much alike; there is a less degree of. difference among them than that found among the members of any of the other classes of Vertebrates ; their likeness to each other being strong, and their kind of difference from any other Verte- brates being peculiar, makes them the highly specialised class they are recognised to be. The structural difference between a humming-bird and an ostrich, for example, is not greater in degree than that subsisting between the members of some of the orders of Reptiles ; whence some hold, with reason, that Birds should not form a class Aves, but an order, or at most a sub-class, of Sauropsida, and so be compared not with a class Reptilia collectively, but with other sauropsidan orders, such as Chelonia (turtles), Sauria (lizards), Ophidia (serpents), etc. The practical convenience of starting with a “class” Aves, however, is so great, that such classificatory value will probably long continue to be ascribed, as heretofore, to Birds collectively. I have spoken of Birds as a particular side-issue or lateral branch of the Vertebrate “‘ tree of life”; hence it is not to be supposed that they are in the direct line of genealogical descent. Though they stand as a group next below Mammals in the scale of evolution, it does not follow that Mammals were developed from any such creature as a Bird has come to be, any more than that Birds have been evolved from any such Reptiles as those of the pre- sent day. It is one of the popular misunderstandings of the Theory of Evolution, to imagine that all the lower forms of animals are in the genetic line of development of the higher forms ; that man, for example, was once a gorilla or a chimpanzee—actually such an ape. The theory simply requires all forms of life to be developed from some antecedent form, presumably, and in most cases certainly, lower in the scale of organisation. Thus man and the gorilla are both descendants of some common progenitor, more or less unlike either of these existing creatures. All mammals are similarly the modified descendants of some more primitive stock, from which stock sprang also all Sawropsida, mediately or immediately ; therefore a Mammal is not a modified Bird, though higher in the scale; and, though a Bird is a modified Reptile, it is not a modification of any such snake or lizard as now exists. The most bird-like reptiles known are not the Pterodactyls, or Flying Reptiles (Pterosauria), as might be supposed; but belong to that remarkable order, the Ornitho- scelida, comprising the Dinosaurians, which “ present a large series of 96 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART I modifications intermediate in structure between existing Reptilia and Aves,” and are therefore inferentially in the direct ancestral line of modern Birds. Geologie Suecession of Birds.—Birds have been traced back in geologic time to Cretaceous and Jurassic epochs of the Mesozoic or Mid-Life period of the world’s history. The earliest ornithichnites,— the fossils so called because supposed to indicate the presence of Birds by their footprints, were discovered about the year 1835 in the Triassic for- mation in Con- necticut. But the creatures which made these tracks are now reason- ably believed to have been all Dinosaurian rep- tiles. The oldest ornitholite, or. fos- sil certainly known to be that of a true Bird, is thefamous Arche- opteryx, found by Andreas Wagner in 1861 in the Odlitic slate of Solenhofen in Bavaria. This has “i a long lizard-like 1G, 14.—Oldest known ornithological treatise, illustrating also ; the art of lithography in the Jurassic period, engraved by peed tail of twenty Wer pteryx lithographica. From the original slab in the British Museum ; tebre, from each after A. Newton, Ency. Brit. 7 A of which springs a well-developed feather on each side; feathers of the wings are also well preserved; bones of the hand are not fused to- gether, as they are in recent Birds; and the jaws bear true teeth. This Bird has served as the basis of one of the primary divi- sions of the class Aves ; though it has many reptilian characters, it is a true Bird. The great gap between this ancient Avian and latter-day birds has been to some extent bridged by the discovery and restoration of Birds from the Cretaceous formations of North America, such genera as Ichthyornis and Hesperornis forming types of SEC. I DEFINITION OF BIRDS 97 two other primary divisions of the class, Odontotorme and Odontolce, or Birds with teeth in sockets, and those with teeth in grooves. In both these genera the tail is short, as in ordinary birds. In Ichthy- ornis, though the wings are well developed, with fused metacarpals 27S oui Fic. 15.—Restoration of Hesperornis regalis. After Marsh. and the sternum is keeled, the vertebra present the extraordinary primitive character of being biconcave. In Hesperornis the vertebrx are saddle-shaped, as usual, but the sternum is flat, as in the existing ostriches, and the wings are rudimentary, wanting metacarpals. Some twenty species of several genera of other American Cretaceous H 98 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II Birds have been described. Remains of Birds multiply in the next period, the Tertiary. Those of the Eocene or early Tertiary are largely and longest known from discoveries made in the Paris Basin, among them the Gastornis parisiensis, at Fic. 16.—Restoration of Ichthyornis victor. After Marsh. least as large as an ostrich; some of these belong to extinct genera, others to genera which still flourish; none are known to have true teeth, or otherwise to be as primitive as the reptile-like forms of the Cretaceous. The Miocene or Middle Tertiary has proved specially rich in remains of Birds, including some of extinct sec. PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 99 genera, but in largest proportion referable to modern types. Later Tertiary (Pliocene and Post-pliocene) birds are almost all of living genera, and some are apparently of living species, Extinct birds coeval with man, their bones bearing his marks, are found in various caves, Sub-fossil = birds’ bones occur in shell-heaps (kitchen- middens) and elsewhere, of course contempor- aneous with man, and some of them scarcely prehistoric. One of the oldest of these is the gigantic Avpyornis maximus of Madagascar, of which we have not only the bones, but the egg. The immense Moas, or Dinornithes of New Zealand, were among the later of these to die, portions of skin, feathers, etc., of these great creatures having been found. With the Moa-remains are found those of Harpagornis, a raptorial bird large enough to have preyed upon the Moas. Finally, various birds have been exterminated in historic times, and some of them within the lifetime of persons now living. The Dodo of Mauri- tius, Didusineptus, is the most celebrated one of these, of the living of which we have documentary evidence down to 1681; the Solitaire of Rodriguez, Pezophaps solitarius, the Géant, Leguatia gigantea, and_ several others of the same Mascarene group of islands, : are in similar case. The Cnt Ae, Alea ie ae tier impennis, is supposed to have become extinct **™°e in 1844; a species of Parrot, Nestor productus, was last known to be living in 1851; various parrots and other birds have likewise disappeared within a very few years. At least one North American . bird, the Labrador Duck, Camptolemus labradorius, seems likely soon to follow. (A. Newton, Ency. Brit. ninth edition, art. ‘ Birds.’) § 2.—PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION Having seen what a Bird is, and how it is distinguished from other animals, our next business is to inquire how birds are related to and distinguished from one another, as the basis of Classification: a prime object of ornithology, without the attainment of which birds, however pleasing they are to the senses, do not satisfy the mind, which always strives to make orderly 100 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART Ir disposition of its knowledge, and so discover the reciprocal relations and interdependencies of the things it knows. Classification pre- supposes that there do exist such relations, according to which we may arrange objects in the manner which facilitates their compre- hension, by bringing together what is like, and separating what is unlike ; and that such relations are the results of fixed, inevitable law. It is, therefore, Taxonomy (Gr. rdéis, favis, arrangement, and vopos, nomos, law), or the rational, lawful disposition of observed facts. Just as taxi- dermy is the art of fixing a bird’s skin in a natural manner, so taxonomy is the science of arranging birds in the most. natural manner; in the way that brings out most clearly their natural affinities, and so shows them in their proper relations to one another. This is the greatest possible help to the memory in its attempt to retain its hold upon great numbers of facts. But taxonomy, which involves consideration of the greatest problems of ornithology, as of every other branch of biology (biology being the science of life and living things in general), is beset with the gravest difficulties, springing from our defective knowledge. We could only perfect our taxonomy by having before us a specimen of every kind of bird that exists, or ever existed; and by thoroughly understanding how each is related to and differs from every other one. This is obvi- ously impossible ; in point of fact, we do not know all the birds now living, and only a small number of extinct birds have come to light ; so that many of the most important links in the chain of evidence are missing, and many more cannot be satisfactorily joined together. With these springs of ignorance and sources of error must be reckoned also the risk of going wrong through the natural fallibility of the mind. The result is, that the “natural classifica- tion,” like the elixir of life or the philosopher’s stone, is a goal still distant ; and as a matter of fact, the present state of the ornitho- logical system is far from being satisfactory. It is obvious that birds, or any other objects, may be classified in numberless ways, —in as many ways as are afforded by all their qualities and rela- tions,—to suit particular purposes, or to satisfy particular bents of mind. Hence have arisen, in the history of the science, very many different schedules of classification ; in fact, nearly every leader of ornithology has in his time proposed his own system, and enjoyed a more or less respectable and influential following. Systems have been based upon this or that set of characters, and erected from’ this or that preconception in the mind of the systematist. Down to quite recent days, the modifications of the external parts of birds, particularly of the bill, feet, wings, and tail, were almost exclusively employed for purposes of classification; and the mental point of view was, that each species of bird was a separate creation, and as sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 101 much of a fixture in Nature’s museum as any specimen in the naturalist’s cabinet. Crops of classifications have been sown in the fruitful soil of such blind error, but no lasting harvest has been reaped. The confusion thus engendered has brought about the inevitable reaction ; and the fashion of the present day is decidedly the opposite extreme,—that of counting external features of little consequence in comparison with anatomical characters. Too much time has been wasted in arguing the superiority of each of these characters for the purposes of classification ; as if a natural classi- fication should not be based upon all points of structure! as if internal and external characters were not reciprocal and mutually exponent of each other! But the genius of modern taxonomy seems to be so certainly right,—to be tending so surely, even if slowly, in the direction of the desired consummation, that all differences of opinion, we may hope, soon will be settled, and defect of knowledge, not perversity of the mind, be the only obstacle left in the way of success. The taxonomic goal is not now to find the way in which birds may be most conveniently arranged, described, and catalogued ; but to discover their pedigree, and so construct their family-tree. Such a genealogical table, or phylum (Gr. ¢idrov, phulon, tribe, race, stock), as it is called, is rightly con- sidered the only taxonomy worthy the name,—the only true or natural classification. In attempting this end, we proceed upon the belief that, as explained above, all birds, like all other animals and plants, are related to each other genetically, as offspring are to parents ; and that to discover their genetic relationships is to bring out their true affinities,—in other words, to reconstruct the actual taxonomy of Nature. In this view, there can be but one natural classification, to the perfecting of which all increase in our knowledge of the structure of birds infallibly tends. The classification now in use, or coming into use, is the result of our best endeavours to accomplish this purpose, and represents what approach we have made to this end. It is one of the great corollaries of that theorem of Evolution which most naturalists are satisfied has been demon- strated. It is necessarily a Morphologieal Classification ; that is, one based solely upon consideration of structure or form (yop¢y, morphé, form); and for the following reasons: Every offspring tends to take on precisely the structure or form of its parents, as its natural physical heritage ; and the principle involved, or the law of heredity, would, if nothing interfered, keep the descendants perfectly true to the physical characters of their progenitors; they would “breed true” and be exactly alike. But counter-influences are incessantly operative, in consequence of constantly varying external conditions of environ- ment ; the plasticity of organisation of all creatures rendering them 102 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II more or less susceptible of modification by such means, they become unlike their ancestors in various ways and to different degrees. On a large scale is thus accomplished, by natural selection and other natural agencies, just what man does in a small way in producing and maintaining different breeds of domestic animals. Obviously, amidst such ceaselessly shifting scenes, degrees of likeness or unlike- ness of physical structure indicate with the greatest exactitude the nearness or remoteness of organisms in kinship. Morphological characters derived from examination of structure are therefore the surest guides we can have to the blood-relationships we desire to establish ; and such relationships are the natural affinities which all classification aims to discover and formulate. As already said, taxonomy consists in tracing pedigrees, and constructing the phylum ; it is like tracing any leaf or twig of a tree to its branchlet, this to its bough, this again to its trunk or main stem. The student will readily perceive, from what has been said, the impossibility of naturally arranging any considerable number of birds in any linear series of groups, one after the other. To do so means nothing more or less than the mechanical necessity of book-making, where groups have to succeed one another, in writing page after page. Some groups will follow naturally ; others will not; no connected chain is possible, because no such single continuous series exists in nature, In cataloguing, or otherwise arranging a series of birds for descrip-- tion, we simply begin with the highest—or lowest, if we prefer— groups, and make our juxtapositions as well as we can, in order to have the fewest breaks in the series. Morphology being the safest, indeed the only safe, clue to natural affinities, and the key to all rational classification, the | student cannot too carefully consider what is meant by this term, or too sedulously guard against misinterpreting morphological char- acters, and so turning the key the wrong way. The chief difficulty he will encounter comes from physiological adaptations of structure ; and this is something that must be thoroughly understood. The expression means that birds, or any animals, widely different in the sum of their morphological characters, may have certain parts of their organisation modified in the same way, thus bringing about a seemingly close resemblance between organisms really little related to each other. For example: a phalarope, a coot, and a grebe, all have lobate feet ; that is, their feet are fitted for swimming purposes in the same way, namely, by development of flaps or lobes on the toes. A striking but very superficial and therefore unimportant resemblance in a certain particular exists between these birds, on the strength of which they used to be classed together in a group called Pinnatipedes, or “fin-footed” birds. But, on sufficient ex- amination, these three birds are found to be very unlike in’ other sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 103 respects ; the sum of their unlikenesses requires us to separate them quite widely in any natural system. The group Pinnatipedes is therefore unnatural, and the appearance of affinity is proved to be deceptive. Such resemblance in the condition of the feet is simply functional, or physiological, and is not correspondent with structural or morphological relationships. The relation, in short, between these three birds is analogical ; it is an inexact superficial resemblance between things profoundly unlike, and therefore having little homological or exact relationship. Analogy is the apparent resemblance between things really unlike,—as the wing of a bird and the wing of a butterfly, as the lungs of a bird and the gills of a fish. Homology is the real resemblance or true relation between things, however different they may appear to be,—as the wing of a bird and the foreleg of a horse, the lungs of a bird and the swim- bladder of a fish. The former commonly rests upon mere func- tional, i.e. physiological, modifications ; the latter is grounded upon structural, i.e. morphological, identity or unity. Analogy is the correlative of physiology, homology of morphology; but the two may be coincident, as when structures identical in morphology are used for the same purposes and are therefore physiologically identi- cal. Physiological diversity of structure is incessant, and continually interferes with morphological identity of structure, to obscure or obliterate the indications of affinity the latter would otherwise express clearly. It is obvious that birds might be classified physio- logically, according to their adaptive modifications or analogical resemblances, just as readily as upon any other basis: for example, into those that perch, those that walk, those that swim, etc.; and, in fact, most early classifications largely rested upon such considera- tions. Itis also evident, that when functional modifications happen to be coincident with structural affinities—as when the turning of the lower larynx into a music-box coincides with a certain type of structure,—such modifications are of the greatest service in classi- fication, as corroborative evidence. But since all sound taxonomy .tests on morphology, on real structural affinity, we must be on our guard against those physiological “appearances” which are pro- verbially “deceptive.” I trust I make the principle clear to the student. Its practical application is another matter, only to be learned in the school of experience. This matter of Homology or Analogy may be thus summed: Birds are homologically related, or naturally allied or affined, according to the sum of like structural characters employed for similar purposes ; they are analogically related, only according to the sum of unlike characters employed for similar purposes. A loon and a cormorant, for instance, are closely affined, because they are both fitted in the same way for the pursuit of their prey by flying under water. A 104 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II dipper (family Cinclide) and a loon (family Colymbide) are analogous, in so far as both are fitted to pursue their prey by flying under water ; but they stand near opposite extremes of the ornithological system ; they have little affinity beyond their common birdhood— very different structure being modified’ to attain the same end. So again, conversely, the crow has vocal organs almost identical in structure with those of the nightingale, and the organisation of the two birds is in other respects very similar; their affinity or homology is therefore close, though the crow is a hoarse croaker, the nightingale an impassioned musician. The Reason why Morphological Classification is so important as to justify or even require its adoption has been very clearly stated by Huxley, whose words I cannot do better than quote in this connection. Speaking of animals, not as physiological apparatuses merely ; not as related to other forms of life and to climatal conditions ; not as successive tenants of the earth; but as fabrics, each of which is built upon a certain plan, he continues: “Tt is possible and conceivable that every animal should have been constructed upon a plan of its own, having no resemblance whatever to the plan of any other animal. For any reason we can discover to the contrary, that combination of natural forces which we term Life might have resulted from, or been manifested by, a series of infinitely diverse structures ; nor would anything in the nature of the case lead us to suspect a community of organisation between animals so different in habit and in appearance as a porpoise and a gazelle, an eagle and a crocodile, or a butterfly and a lobster, Had animals been thus independently organised, each working out its life by a mechanism peculiar to itself, such a classification as that now under contemplation would be obviously impossible ; a morpho- logical or structural classification plainly implying morphological or structural resemblances in the things classified. “Asa matter of fact, however, no such mutual independence of animal forms exists in nature. On the contrary, the members of the animal kingdom, from the highest to the lowest, are marvellously connected. Every animal has something in common with all its fellows ; much, with many of them; more, with afew; and usually, so much with several, that it differs but little from them. “Now, a morphological classification is a statement of these gradations of likeness which are observable in animal structures, and its objects and uses are manifold. In the first place, it strives to throw our knowledge of the facts which underlie, and are the cause of, the similarities discerned, into the fewest possible general propositions, subordinated to one another, according to their reater or less degree of generality ; and in this way it answers the purpose of a memoria technica, without which the mind would be ce ae eee sec. 1 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 105 incompetent to grasp and retain the multifarious details of anatomical science. “But there is a second and even more important aspect of morphological classification, Every group in that classification is such in virtue of certain structural characters, which are not only common to the members of the group, but distinguish it from all others ; and the statement of these constitutes the definition of the group. “Thus, among animals with vertebrae, the class Mammalia is definable as those which have two occipital condyles, with a well- ossified basi-occipital; which have each ramus of the mandible composed of a single piece of bone and articulated with the squamosal element of the skull; and which possess mamme and non-nucleated red blood-corpuscles. “But this statement of the characters of the class Mammulia is something more than an arbitrary definition. It does not merely mean that naturalists agree to call such and such animals Mammalia ; but it expresses, firstly, a generalisation based upon, and constantly verified by, very wide experience ; and, secondly, a belief arising out of that generalisation. The generalisation is that, in nature, the structures mentioned are always found associated together ; the belief is that they always have been, and always will be, found so associated. In other words, the definition of the class Mammalia is a statement of a law of correlation, or coexistence, of animal structures, from which the most important conclusions are deducible ” (Introd. to Classif. of Animals, 8vo, London, 1869, pp. 2, 3). But broad as such laws of correlation of structure are, and important as are the conclusions deducible, we must constantly be on our guard against presuming upon the infallibility either of the data or of the deduction, as the author just quoted goes on to show. Such caution is specially required where there is no obvious reason for the particular combination that may be found to exist. In the case of the ostrich-like birds (Ratite), for example, we can understand how a flat, unkeeled breast-bone, a particular arrangement of the shoulder-bones, and a rudimentary state of the wing-bones, are found in combination, because all these modifications of structure are evidently related to loss of the power of flight; and, in point of fact, no exception is known to the generalisation, that such conditions of the sternal, coraco-scapular, and humeral bones always coexist. But in all known struthious (ratite) birds, this state of the bones in mention coexists also with a peculiar modification of the bones of the palate, and no necessary connection between these two sets of diverse characters is conceivable. Now, if we only knew struthious birds, and found the combination in mention to hold with them all, we should doubtless declare our belief that any 106 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II bird having such palatal characters would also be found to possess such imperfect wing-apparatus. But this would be going too far: in fact, we know that the tinamous (Dromeognathe) have such a palate, yet have a keeled sternum and functionally developed wings. The real use and proper application of such generalisations is to teach the lesson, that creatures exhibiting such modified combina- tions of characters are genetically related to each other just in the degree to which they possess characters in common, and are genetically remote from each other in the degree to which they do not possess characters in common: i.e. that their similarities and distinctions of structure are sure indexes of their natural affinities. To take another case, derived from consideration of a large number of existing birds: it is an observed fact, that a particular arrange- ment of the plates upon the back of the tarsus, a peculiar modifica- tion of the lower larynx or voice organ, and an undeveloped or abortive condition of the first large feather on the hand, are found associated in a vast series of birds, constituting the group of Passeres called Oscines. What possible connection there can be between these three separate and apparently independent modifications we cannot even surmise ; but that they have some natural and necessary connection we cannot doubt, and that the connection is causal, not fortuitous, is a logical inference from the observed fact, that birds which present this particular combination are also closely related in other structural characters; that is, that they have all been subjected to operative influences which have conspired to produce the modifications observed. Given, then, a bird, with a known oscine larynx, but unknown as to its feet and wings, it would be a reasonable inference that these members, when discovered, would present the characters observed to occur in like cases. But the first lark (Alaudide) examined would show the inference to be fallible ; for the tarsus of such a bird is differently disposed, though a lark has an elaborate singing apparatus, and only nine instead of ten developed primaries. Once more: the development of a keeled sternum, a peculiar saddle-shape of certain vertebra, and lack of true teeth, are characters coexisting in all the higher birds; and, as far as these birds are concerned, we have no hint that such a combination is ever broken. In fact, however, the singular Creta- ceous Ichihyornis shows us a pattern of bird in which a well-keeled sternum and perfectly formed wings coexist with teeth in reptile- like jaws and with fish-like biconcave vertebre. What we learn from this case indeed breaks down one of the most precise defini- tions we might have made (and indeed did make) respecting birds at large; but in its failure we are taught how great is the modifica- tion of geologically recent birds from their primitive generalised ancestry; we learn something likewise of the steps of such sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 107 modification, and of the length of 'time required for the process. It is the history of attempts to frame definitions of groups in zoology, that they are all liable to be negatived by new discoveries, and therefore to be broken down and require remodelling as our knowledge increases. It is to be readily perceived that the ability to draw distinctions and make definitions of groups is as much the gauge of our ignorance as the test of our knowledge ; for all groups, like all species, come to be such by modification so gradual, so slight in each successive increment of difference, that, if all the steps of the process were before our eyes, we should be able to limit no groups whatever in a positive, unqualified manner. All would merge insensibly into one another, be inseparably linked in as many series as there have been actual lines of evolutionary progress, and finally converge to the one or few starting-points of organised beings. Practically, however, the case is quite the reverse,—happily for the comfort of the working naturalist, however sadly the philosopher may deplore the ignorance implied. Degrees of likeness and unlikeness do exist, which when rightly interpreted enable us to mark off groups of all grades with much facility and precision, and thus erect a morphological classification which recognises and defines such degrees, and explains them upon the principles of Evolution. The way in which the principles of such classification are to be practically applied gives occasion for some further remarks upon Zoological Characters.—A “ character,’ in zoological language, is any point of structure which may be perceived and described for the purpose of comparing or contrasting animals with one another. Thus, the conditions of the sternum, palate, tarsus, larynx, as noted in preceding paragraphs, are each of them characters which may be used in describing individual birds, or in framing definitions of groups of birds. Morphological characters, with which the classification we have adopted alone concerns itself, may . be derived from the structure of a bird considered in any of its relations, or as affected by any of the conditions to which it is subjected. Thus embryological characters are those afforded by the bird during the progress of its development in the egg, from the almost structureless germ to the fully formed chick. Such characters of the embryo in its successive stages are of the utmost significance ; for it is a fact that the germ of each of the higher organisms goes through a series of developmental changes which, at each succeeding step in the unfolding of its appropriate plan of structure, causes it to resemble the adult state of animals lower than itself in the scale of organisation. In fine, the history of the evolution of every individual bird epitomises the history of those changes which birds collectively have undergone in becoming what 108 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II they are by modified descent from lower organisms. Such transitory stages of any embryo, therefore, give us glimpses of those evolu- tionary processes which have affected the group to which it belongs. Any bird, for example, when a germ, is at first on the plane of organisation of the very lowest known creatures,—one of the Protozoa, or single-celled animals. As its germ develops, and its structure becomes more complicated by the formation of parts and organs successively differentiated and specialised, it rises higher and higher in the scale of being. At a certain stage very early reached (for the steps by which it becomes like any invertebrate are very speedily passed over) it resembles a fish in possessing gill-like slits, several aortic arches, no true kidneys, no amnion, etc. Further advanced, losing its gills, gaining kidneys and amnion, etc., it rises to the dignity of a reptile, and at this stage it is more like a reptile than like a bird ; having, for example, a number of separate bones of the wrist and ankle, no feathers, etc. The assumption of its own appropriate characters, i.e. those by which it passes from a reptilian creature to become a bird, is always the last stage reached. We can thus actually see and note, inside any egg-shell, exactly those progressive steps of development of the individual bird which we believe to have been taken on a grand scale in nature for the evolution of the class Aves from lower forms of life ; and the lesson learned is fraught with significance. It is nothing less than the demonstration in ontogeny (genesis of the individual) of that phylogeny (genesis of the race) by which groups of creatures come to be. The interior of any adult bird, again, furnishes us with all kinds of ordinary anatomical characters, derived from the way we perceive the different organs and systems of organs to be fashioned in themselves, and arranged with reference to one another. The finishing of the outward parts of a bird gives us the ordinary external characters, in the way in which the skin and its appendages . are modified to form the covering of the bill and feet, and to fashion all kinds of feathers. Birds being of opposite sexes, and such difference being not only indicated in the essential sexual organs, but usually also in modifications in size or shape of the body or quality of the plumage and other outgrowths, a set of secual characters are at our service. Birds are also sensibly modified in their outward details of feathering by times of the year when the plumage is changed, and this renders appreciation of seasonal characters possible. All such circumstances, and others that could be mentioned, such as effects of climate, of domestication, etc., in so far as they in any way affect the structure of birds, conspire to produce zoological characters, as these are above defined. Such characters, according as they result from more or less profound impressions made upon the organism, are of more or less “value” sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE: OF CLASSIFICATION 109 in taxonomy ; being of all grades, from the trivial ones that serve to distinguish the nearest related species or varieties, to the fundamental ones that serve to mark off primary divisions. Thus the “character” of possessing a backbone is common to all animals of an immense series called Vertebrata. The “character” of feathers is common to all the class dves ; of toothless jaws to all modern birds; of a keeled sternum to all the sub-class Carinate ,; of feet fitted for perching to all the order Passeres ; of a musical apparatus to all the sub-order Oscines,; of nine primaries to all the family Fringillide ; of crossed mandibles to all of the genus Loaia; of white bands on the wings to all of the species Loxia leucoptera. There is thus seen a sliding scale of valuation of characters, from those involving the most profound or primitive modifications of structure to those resting upon the most superficial or wltimate impressions. It will also be obvious that every ulterior modifica- tion presupposes inclusion of all the prior ones; for a white- winged crossbill, to be itself, must be a loxian, fringilline, oscine, passerine, carinate, modern, avian, vertebrated animal. The more characters, of all grades, that any birds share in common, the more closely are they related, and conversely. Obviously, the possession of more or fewer characters in common results in Degrees of Likeness.—Were all birds alike, or did they all differ by the same characters to the same degree, no classification would be possible. It is a matter of fact that they do exhibit all degrees of likeness possible within the limits of their Avian nature ; it is a matter of belief that these degrees are the necessary result of Evolution—of descent with modification from a common ancestry ; and that, being dependent upon that process, they are capable of explaining it if rightly interpreted. For example: Two white- winged crossbills, hatched in the same nest, scarcely differ percep- tibly (except in sexual characters) from each other, and from the pair that laid the eggs. We call them “specifically” identical ; and the sum of the differences by which they are distinguished from any other kinds of crossbills is their “ specific character.” All the individual crossbills which exhibit this particular sum consti- tute a “species.” In this case, the genetic relationship of offspring and parent is unquestionable—it is an observed fact. Now turn to the extremely opposite case. The difference between our cross- bills and the Cretaceous Ichthyornis is enormous: I suppose it is néarly the greatest known to subsist between any two birds what- soever. But the Ichthyornis and the Lowia are also separated by a correspondingly immense interval of time, and presumably by correspondingly enormous differences in conditions of environment— in their physical surroundings. It is a logical inference that these two things—difference in physical structure and difference in 110 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II physical environment—are in some way correlated and co-ordinated. If we presume, upon the theory of evolution, that, despite the great difference, a crossbill is genetically related to some such bird as an Ichthyornis, as truly as it is to its actual parents, only much more remotely, and that the difference is due to modifications impressed upon its stock in the course of time, conformably with changing conditions of environment, we shall have a better explanation of the difference than any other as yet offered—an explanation, more- over, which is corroborated by all the related facts we know, and with which no known facts are irreconcilable. But to correctly gauge and formulate the degrees of likeness or unlikeness between any two birds is to correctly “classify” them ; and if these degrees rest, as we believe they do, upon nearness or remoteness of genetic relationship, classification upon such basis becomes the truest attainable formulation of “ natural affinities.” It is the province of morphological classification to search out those natural affinities which the structure of birds indicates, and express them by divid- ing birds into groups, and subdividing these into other groups, of greater or lesser value or grade, according to the fewer or more characters shared in common,—that is, according to degrees of like- ness; that is, again, according to genealogical relationship or con- sanguinity. Zoological Groups.—To carry any scheme of classification into practical effect, naturalists have found it necessary to invent and apply a system of grouping objects whereby the like may come together and be separated from the unlike. They have also found it expedient to give names to all these groups, of whatever grade, such as class, order, family, genus, species, ete. ; and to stamp each such group with the value of its grade, or its relative rank in the scale, so that it may become currency among naturalists. The student must observe, in the first place, that the value of each such coinage is wholly arbitrary, until sanctioned and fixed by common consent. The term “class,” for example, simply indicates that naturalists agree to use that word to designate a conventional group of a particular grade or value. Indispensable as is some such acceptable medium of exchange of ideas among naturalists, their groups are not fixed, have no natural value, and in fact have no actual exist- ence in the treasury of Nature. It cannot be too strongly impressed upon the student that Nature makes no bounds,—Natura non facit saltus, there are no such abrupt transitions in the unfolding of Nature’s plan, no such breaks in the chain of being, as he would be led to suppose by our method of defining and naming groups. He must consider the words “class,” “ order,” etce., as wholly arbitrary terms, invented and designed to express our ideas of the relations which subsist between any animals or sets of animals, Thus, for sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 111 example, by the term the “Class of Birds” we signify simply the kind and degree of likeness which all birds share, such being also the kind and degree of their unlikeness from any other animals ; the word “class” being simply the name or handle of the general- isation we make respecting their relations with one another and with other animals; it represents an abstract idea, is the expression of a relation. True, all birds embody the idea; but “ class” is nevertheless an abstraction. Now, as intimated earlier in this essay, the definition of the idea we attach to the term—the limita- tion of the class Aves—depends entirely upon how much we know of the relation intended to be expressed. It so happens that no animals are known which cannot be decided to belong, or not to belong, to the conventional class of birds, because we have found it convenient and expedient to consider the presence of feathers a fair criterion or necessary qualification. But what, when an animal is discovered the covering of whose body is half-way between the scales of a lizard and the plumes of a bird, and whose structure is ‘otherwise as equivocal? This may happen any day. A feather is certainly a modified scale; a feather has doubtless been developed out of a scale. In the case supposed, we should have to modify our definition of the “Class of Birds”; that is, change our ideas upon the subject, and alter the boundary-line we established between the classes of birds and reptiles; whereas, were a “class” something naturally definite, independent, and fixed, all that we could learn about it would only tend to establish it more surely. The same obscurity and uncertainty of definition attaches to groups of every grade—from the Animal “ Kingdom ” itself, which cannot be cut clear of the Vegetable “Kingdom ”—down through classes, orders, families, genera, species, and varieties—yes, to the individual itself, which, however unmistakable among higher organisms, cannot always be predicated of the lowermost forms of Life. Such divisions, of whatever grade, as we are able to establish for the purposes of classification, depend entirely upon the breaks and defects in our knowledge. There is no such thing as drawing hard-and-fast lines anywhere, for none such exist in Nature. Taxonomic Equivalence of Groups.—But, however arbitrary they may be, or however obscure or fluctuating may be their boundaries, groups we must have in zoology, and groups of different grades, to express different degrees of likeness of the objects examined, and so to classify them. It is a great convenience, moreover, to have a recognised sliding-scale of valuation of groups from the highest to the lowest, and an accepted valuation. Just as in a thermometric scale, there are degrees designated as those of the boiling-point of water, the heat of the blood, the freezing of water, of mercury, etc.; so there are certain degrees of likeness 112 GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II conventionally designated as those of class, order, family, genus, and species; always accepted in the order here given, from higher to lower groups. (There are various others, and especially a number of intermediate groups, generally distinguished by the prefix sub-, as sub-family ; but those here given are generally adopted by English- speaking naturalists, and suffice to illustrate the point I wish to make.) It may sound like a truism to say that groups of the same grade, bearing the same name, whatever that may be, must be of the same value,—must be based upon and distinguished by charac- ters of equal or equivalent importance. Equivalence of groups is necessary to the stability and harmony of any classificatory system. It will not do to frame an order upon one set of characters here, and there a family upon a similar set of characters ; but order must differ from order, and family from family, by an equal or corre- sponding amount of difference. Let a group called a family differ as much from the other families in its own order as it does from some other order, and by this very circumstance it is not a family but an order itself. It seems a very simple proposition, but it is too often ignored, and always with practical ill result. Two points should be remembered here: First, that absolute size or numerical bulk of a group has nothing to do with its taxonomic value: one order may contain a thousand species, and another be represented by a single species, without having its ordinal valuation affected thereby. Secondly, any given character may assume different importance, or be of different value, in its application to different groups. Thus, the number of primaries, whether nine or ten, is a family charac- ter almost throughout Oscines; but in one oscine family (Vireonide) it has scarcely generic value. It is difficult, however, to determine such a point as this without long experience. Nor is it possible, in fact, to make our groups correspond in value with entire exactitude. The most we can hope for is a reasonable approximation. As in the thermometric simile above given, “blood-heat” and other points fluctuate, so does order not always correspond with order, nor family with family, in actual significance. What degree of differ- ence shall be “ordinal”? What shall be a difference of “family”? What shall be “generic” and what “specific” differences? Such questions are more easily asked than answered. They demand critical consideration. Valuation of Characters.—In a general way, of course, the greater the difference between any two objects, the more “ import- ant” or ‘‘fundamental” are the “characters” by which they are distinguished. But what makes a character “important” or the. reverse? Obviously, what it signifies represents its importance. We are classifying morphologically, and upon the theory of Evolu- tion ; and in such a system a character is important or the reverse, sec. 11 PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF CLASSIFICATION 113 simply as an exponent of the principles, or an illustration of the facts, of evolutionary processes of Nature, according to the unfold- ing of whose plans of animal fabrics the whole structure of living beings has been built up. Why is the possession of a backbone such a “fundamental” character that it is used to establish one of the primary branches of the animal kingdom? It is not because so many millions of creatures possess it, but because it was introduced so early in the evolutionary process, and because its introduction led to the most profound modification of the whole structure of the animals which became possessed of a vertebral column. Why is the possession by a bird of biconcave vertebra so significant? Not because all modern birds have saddle-shaped vertebra, but because to have biconcave vertebra is to be quoad hoc fish-like. Why is pre- sence or absence of teeth so important? Not that teeth served those old birds better than a horny beak serves modern ones, but because teeth are a reptilian character. Obviously, to be fish-like or reptile-like is to be by so much unbirdlike ; the degree of differ- ence thus indicated is enormous; and a character that indicates such degree of difference is proportionally “important” or “fundamental,” —just what we were after. By knowledge of facts like these, and by the same process of reasoning, a naturalist of tact, sagacity, and experience is able to put a pretty fair valuation upon any given character ; he acquires the faculty of perceiving its significance, and according to what it signifies does it possess for him its taxonomic importance. As a matter of fact, it seems that characters of all sorts are to be estimated chronologically. For, if animals have come to be what they are by any process that took time to be accom- plished, the characters earliest established are likely to be the most fundamental ones, upon the introduction of which the most import- ant train of consequences ensue. Feathers, for example, as the Archeopteryx teaches us, were in full bloom in the Jurassic period, and they are still the most characteristic possession of birds: all birds have them; they are a class character. If they had been taken on quite recently, we may infer that many creatures otherwise entirely avian might not possess them, and they would have in classification less significance than that now rightly attributed to them. On the other hand, we cannot suppose that the finishing touches, by which, in the presence of white bands on the wings of Loxia leucoptera, and their absence in Losxiu curvirostra, these two “species” are distinguished, were not very lately given to these birds. It is a very late step in the process, and correspondingly in- significant ; it is of that value or importance which we call “specific.” The same method of reasoning is available for determining the value of any character whatever, and so of estimating the grade of the group which we establish upon such character. As a rule, T 114 : GENERAL ORNITHOLOGY PART II therefore, the length of time a character has been in existence, and its taxonomic value, are correlated, and each is the exponent of the other. “Types of Structure.”—In no department of natural history has the late revolution in biological thought been more effective than in remodelling, presumably for the better, the ideas underlying classification. In earlier days, when “species” were supposed to be independent creations, it was natural and almost inevitable to regard them as fixed facts in nature. A species was as actual and tangible as an individual, and the notion was, that, given any two specimens, it should be perfectly possible to decide whether they were of the same or different species, according to whether or not they answered the “ specific characters” laid down for them. The same fancy vitiated all ideas upon the subject of genera, families, and higher groups.