THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

r

A NATURALIST'S

RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

BY

CHARLES C. ABBOTT.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,

I, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET.
1885.

COPYRIGHT, 1884,
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

A WORD AT THE START, IN LIEU OF a PREFACE .... 6

CHAP. I. — OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL 17

II. — GLIMPSES OF WILD-CATS 22

III.— WICKED WEASELS 27

IV.— OUR COMMON MINK 33

V.— THE SKUNK 38

VI.— THE OTTER 46

VII.— THE FLYING-SQUIRREL 51

VIII.— THE CHIPMUNK 58

IX.— WILD MICE 64

X. — MUSK-RATS AND SQUIRRELS AS WEATHER-PROPHETS . . 73
XI. — DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY "TossuM"? . . . .84

XII. — OUR BIRDS IN GENERAL 93

XIII. — THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS 97

XIV. — A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS 124

XV.— THE SONGS OF BIRDS 136

XVI. — CHATS AND WRENS: A SUMMER'S STUDY . . . .145
XVII. — THE CAROLINA WREN: A YEAR OF ITS LIFE . . . 153

XVIII. — Do SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 159

XIX. — A SECLUDED CORNER 183

XX. — THREE BEECHES 191

XXI. — ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAKS 198

XXII. — EARLY MORNING 201

XXIII.— A WALK IN WINTER 209

XXIV. — FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS 214

XXV. — THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS 218

XXVI. — NOTES ON OUR HERONS 226

XXVII. — NOTES ON THE Wooo-DucK . . 237

M345646

4 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

XXVIII.— A SOUTHERLY RAIN 242

XXIX. — SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES 250

XXX. — Uz GAUNT'S TALK ABOUT TURTLES 276

XXXI. — SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES . . . . . .252

XXXII. — Uz GAUNT'S SNAKE-STORY 307

XXXIII. — SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS 312

XXXIV. — BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES . 3,r>l

XXXV. — BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES (CONTINUED) .... 372
XXXVI. — BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES (CONCLUDED) .... 402

XXXVII. — TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES 433

APPENDIX 447

INDEX. . 481

A WORD AT THE START,

II* LIEU OF A PBEFACE.

I happen out for a stroll, the difficulty that
besets me is not what to seek — for to ramble without an
object is an abomination — but what to choose of the end-
less variety of objects worthy of attention. I do not like
to determine this after I have started, but prefer saying
to myself, " I will watch the birds to-day," or, " I will
hunt up the meadow-mice." To do this, at once gives
an additional interest to a contemplated ramble ; and,
in all my experience, I have never yet failed to find some
trace, at least, of that object to observe which I took
the walk.

Avoid the highways when you take a walk. Even if
well shaded, they are abandoned now to the pestiferous
English sparrows ; and if you are really intent on a good
tramp of a few miles, do not turn aside for a stretch of
swamp. If you have any fear of wet feet, be properly
shod before starting. It too often happens that the
sights best worth seeing come to you when in a bit of
wet meadow. The swamp-sparrows, that are such sweet
songsters ; the marsh-wrens and the king-rails and soras
will not come to the dry ground at the edge of the mead-

6 A WORD AT THE START.

ow and sing and show themselves for your benefit. If
you want to enjoy them, you must go to their haunts ;
and once there, if you are really fond of birds, you will
never regret it. There are neglected, tangled, briery
nooks in every neighborhood that will repay frequent
visits. There some of the best bird-music is to be heard.
In an old field I know of, too barren to be worth cultivat-
ing, and unpleasantly strong with the odors of Jamestown
weed, there is every summer a whole colony of Carolina
wrens, and their songs are not excelled by any of our
birds, except certain thrushes and the rose-breasted gros-
beak. In this same field, too, I am sure of finding scores
of garter-snakes, and the pretty creatures add a charm to
the place. Finally, nowhere else are there so many
gorgeously-colored dragon-flies as about this same neg-
lected, weed - grown field. By very many, walks are
thought to be enjoyable only in what is commonly called
pleasant weather. What constitutes a pleasant day, as
distinguished from an unpleasant one, is not very clear.
If I have seen something new, that day is pleasant, how-
ever the thermometer registers or the winds blow. Surely,
too, after a month of sunny days, a steady, pouring rain
is delicious, not to look at merely, but to be about in it.
It is charm enough to tempt one out to see how the
birds and mice and squirrels, and the snakes, frogs, and
insects pass their time when it rains. The cunning you
will see displayed by them will compensate for the soak-
ing you may get.

If the weather be cold, walk fast and see fast, and, if
you have well-trained eyes, no feeling of cold will annoy
you ; unless, indeed, you are needlessly bundled up, and
do nothing but wonder where the thermometer ranges.
A good rule for one who walks in winter is, to forget
that there are such things as thermometers, and never to

A WORD AT THE START. '[

look at one when leaving the door-step. Perhaps it is
snowing. Well, the very creatures that the observant
walker loves to see can not more readily dodge the snow-
storm than he can ; and is it not a sufficient incentive
to learn what the birds and mammals are about when
snowed up, to warrant a ramble over snow-clad fields
and in the leafless woods ? Who that has seen a cardinal
grosbeak in the full glory of his crimson dress, perched
upon a bare twig, with nothing but untrodden snow for a
background, and heard his cheery whistle come ringing
through the crisp air, can ever forget it? Such a sight
is not to be witnessed from your sitting-room windows.
No, no, there is reason for rambling at all times, with
perhaps one exception. In the noon of midsummer
days it is proper to remain in-doors to rest, to keep cool,
if happily you can. Nature herself, just then, is taking
a nap.

A word, now, as to where my home is, for I have
never rambled elsewhere. I will not attempt a descrip-
tion ; for why, indeed, should I expose its nakedness ? It
came to me not through purchase, but by the accident of
birth. Just two centuries ago, a lad came from Notting-
ham, England, to what was then a mere ghost of a vil-
lage, but is now the present city of Philadelphia. By
chance he came into " the Jerseys," and, when of age,
chose, as a site for the home he purposed building, a
tract on Crosswicks Creek, a navigable stream that enters
the Delaware Eiver at Bordentown. By trade a wheel-
wright, but by choice a farmer, he throve well, and added
hundreds of acres to his original purchase ; and now,
two centuries later, I find myself anchored within sight
of where my respected ancestor dwelt. Yes, and writ-
ing these lines at a curious old desk that belonged to his

8 A WORD AT THE START.

thrifty son, who bought other lands, built boats, and died
early of grief, because the breaking out of the Revolution
spoiled his plans. The predecessors of my ancestors, as
possessors of the soil, merit a moment's attention. These
dusky-skinned natives were greatly attached to the neigh-
borhood, and the abundance of their handiwork in stone
still testifies to their prolonged occupancy of the country.
Not only are there hundreds of their relics on every acre,
but there is also a fragmentary tradition that, not far from
my door-yard, Oconio-coco-coco-cadgi-cadgi-cadonko had
his wigwam ; and not far off, under an enormous white-
oak, fought single-handed with the fiercest of cougars,
long the terror of the neighborhood, and slew him with
a flint knife. Oconio's grave is supposed to be quite
near, but I have never sought to disturb his bones,
much as I would like to have them, nor have I even
looked for a wonderful stone pipe that was buried with
him. Perhaps it is all true. I accept it as such, be-
cause it is pleasant to recall the story, as told me nearly
forty years ago. I have often tried to determine, in
various ways, how long these Indians roamed along
this terrace and over these fields and meadows, but
have not as yet reached a satisfactory conclusion. That
they were here for a long time can not be questioned,
and even now, so long after thsir departure, the traces
of their former presence lends a charm to our quiet
rambles ; for, whenever we happen upon bare ground,
the chances are that we shall see an arrow - head, and
what a wealth of pleasing fancies even a single arrow-
head may bring up ! How many possible occurrences
may be connected with this bit of chipped jasper ! So it
is, indeed, the country over ; and often an unsuspected
mine of pleasure is lying exposed to the gaze of those
who, walking abroad, see nothing and learn nothing.

A WORD AT THE START. 9

Relic-hunting, properly conducted, is an art, and had
better be treated as such. It is too laborious for quiet
rambling — as the eyes must always be fixed on the
ground.

Here, to-day, much as in the olden time, are the broad
stretches of meadow that, skirting the Delaware, are my
constant delight and the scenes of my happiest days out-
of-doors. Back from the river, more~than half a mile,
and parallel to it, is the elevated plateau that extends east-
ward and seaward. From the one to the other there is
no sloping, intervening stretch of land, other than the
meadows. To pass from the uplands to the lowlands
you must trip down a steep descent of eighty feet. Steep
as it is, it is well wooded, and is the " hill-side " of which
I shall say much hereafter. It is a jolly place for those
given to quiet rambles. There the earliest spring flowers
are to be found, and to gather the earliest bloom of the
year is surely worth an effort. There, too, tarry the fore-
runners of the flight of summer songsters that gladden the
hearts of all who hear their melody, for no subsequent
songs are so charming as the first notes of the pioneer
thrush, red-wing, or oriole.

My house stands on the very edge of this terrace, and
is so placed that from my windows I can see the meadows
below and the river beyond. A substantial structure it
is, and it answered my great-grandfathers' modest wants
though it does not suit me ; still I am compensated for
what it lacks, in the oaks, beeches, and locusts that sur-
round it, as it is under them that I live. So much, then,
as to the place where I live. Evidently there is not a
single romantic feature in the neighborhood. The first
Europeans who settled here were Quakers, and the plain-

10 A WORD AT TEE START.

ness of the surroundings doubtless had its influence in
deciding their choice. So strict were they, as their meet-
ing records show, that probably they would have covered
up any natural beauty that might have had a tendency
to foster a poetical sentiment among their people ; just
as they desired their blooming maidens, if their color
was too bright, to dust their cheeks with flour before at-
tending meeting. It proved to be a " concern " upon
the minds of the elders lest the aforesaid rosy cheeks
should distract the attention of the young men who
sat on benches so placed that they could look upon
the fair faces of these maidens. Even in such prosaic
times the young men thought a pretty girl was more
to be desired that a drowsy sermon, and their seniors
chided them for so thinking. The descendants of these
Quakers, happily less strict, still assemble in the old
meeting-house.

But long years ago a gifted man, Archibald, nephew
of William Bartram, the naturalist and traveler, thought
otherwise of this neighborhood and the young maidens
of his day. Of these meadows and the wooded bluff he
sang:

" Sweet Nottingham ! thy charms I prize,
Where yonder hills abruptly rise,
Which gird thy valleys green ;
At dawn, at noon, at close of day,
Along these heights I love to stray

And gaze upon the scene/'

This, and much more, he found to say about the spot
during his many visits, just eighty years ago — found it
to say, too, in spite of living in Bartram's garden on the
Schuylkill, where there was so much to attract a poet and
naturalist. The matter, perhaps, is explicable from the
fact that a maiden was even more attractive than the

A WORD AT THE START. H

neighborhood, and a suspicion crosses my mind that,
childlike, he "made believe" to have discovered the
beauty of the locality, hoping it would please the dark-
eyed damsel. In this he succeeded. She was pleased,
and all would have gone well, had he not, so soon after,
passed away. From about this time these meadows and
the bluff attracted many naturalists of repute, then living
in Philadelphia. Conrad the elder, botanist and miner-
alogist ; Conrad the geologist, his son ; and Rafinesque,
Say, Le Seure, Bonaparte, Wilson, and others, all rambled
about here. Indeed, the names of some, cut by them-
selves, are still to be deciphered on one of the old beeches
that guards a famous spring, where they were wont to
halt at noon-time.

An instructive, pleasant, leisurely stroll is not un-
profitable, even if the more striking objects of natural
history are absent. It is a sad error to suppose that the
most familiar of our birds, to say nothing of other forms
of life, both vegetable and animal, can ever be so familiar
that nothing further can be learned by observing them.
There is a percentage of probability so large that we may
detect something quite new to us in the habits even of
the little social chipping sparrow, that it is unwise even
for the experienced ornithologist to pass them by un-
heeded. If it is early summer, you may happen to find
its nest. Of course, you know it is always lined with
hair. Well, look at the nest you have found, neverthe-
less, if you can without disturbing it, and perhaps you
may find a different material used. I did once, and once
only, and it was a more pleasant discovery than many I
have since made. As I continued my walk that same
day, I pondered long on the subject of variation in nest-
building, and found half a dozen other nests of birds be-
fore I returned. One was a delicate, pensile structure,

12 A WORD AT THE START.

apparently too fragile to hold safely the three little eggs
it contained ; yet with them was an egg of the Cowpen
bird, larger than the three others together.

If a walk is taken for mental as well as bodily exer-
cise, it is most unwise to ignore familiar objects, or refuse
to ramble because there is nothing to see. When once
the impression of nothing to see gains possession of a
person, he is in a bad way, as he is deprived of one great
source of pleasure, and must acquire his knowledge at
second hand or not at all. Not that I think little of a
book-knowledge of Nature, for I read many books with
delight ; but the best book is that which sends us out-
of-doors, in search of information, rather than to the
library.

Walks may be taken alone or in company ; but if you
go with a companion, be sure he is thoroughly sympa-
thetic, or the ramble will be in vain. The best company
are those that live closest to Nature, and he is wise who is
friendly with the old trappers and fishermen who still lin-
ger in every village. If the rambler is young, and learn-
ing Nature's A, B, C's, an opportunity to question an old
trapper is something to be prized. More can be learned
of them, by judicious questions, than by reference to a
cyclopaedia. Aspiring, then, to be an accomplished ram-
bler, to know how to stroll profitably, be not less on the
lookout for those whose business is with Nature than
for those lower forms of intelligence we call, collectivelv,
animal life. A chance conversation discovered to me
one companion of many of my walks. When a mere
boy, Uz Gaunt lived in this neighborhood, having a
little cottage adjoining my grandfather's woods ; and
he, above all others, gave me my first lesson in practical
zoology.

A WORD AT THE START. 13

When I first met him he was about seventy years old,
and ten years later he appeared no older. Had he not
been bent and disabled, finally, from severe rheumatic
attacks, I doubt if any one could have guessed his age.
His hair remained dark and thick, his forehead showed
few wrinkles, his eye was as bright and piercing, at the
last, as when, a score of years ago, he would point out
the green head of a mallard in the tall grass and bid me
shoot. Often I would fire on faith, not able to detect
anything but the waving grass wherein he saw a cunning
mallard hiding.

Uz was the happy owner of a few acres, most of which
were not arable. The five acres that immediately sur-
rounded his house were shut in from the world by a
swampy tract that remained undisturbed. Tempting of-
fers were made for the valuable timber that grew upon
it. but Uz had enough to meet his wants, and turned a
deaf ear to all who suggested his parting with the trees.
" They were my only companions when a child," he once
remarked to me, " and I could not part with them now.
I'm not chicken-hearted, that I know of, but to sell those
trees would be like selling my own flesh and blood.
They are a part of my life now, and my sister and I make
out to live on the little patches of cleared land about the
house. No, so long as I live I want the trees to keep
me company."

" Then it is from the fact that you played all day un-
der these trees that you became a naturalist," I suggested
at the time.

li Yes, you hit it there. Of course, I went a bit
to school, and father had two or three books which
I read in a little, but my learnin' came from out-
doors. Why, the birds seemed to know me after a
while, and I gained their good-will by lettin' 'em alone.

14: A WORD AT THE START.

Hy eyes would be on 'em all day, but I kept my bands
off."

" But you carried a gun after a wbile," I remarked.

" Yes, but not for some time. Fatlier made me work
some, and wben I did go gunnin' it was at proper times,
and I didn't sboot birds in spring just to count their tail-
feathers." This was a quiet dig at me, for Uz had but
little patience with ornithology as I had attempted to
study it. The minutiae of color and anatomical structure
he gave the go-by, but knew the habits of birds as I never
expect to.

In later years Uz left to his sister the care both of his
house and little farm, and was ever on the alert, with gun
in hand, to secure what game might be at hand. The
number of rabbits he killed every autumn I dare not
mention ; and, in the proper season, woodcock, quails,
and ducks daily rewarded his rambles about their haunts.
As a duck-shooter he had no equal in the neighborhood,
and it was in this sport that he most delighted. For
twenty years, during which I knew him well and saw
him often, his sole occupation was that of a hunter and
trapper, and, happily, he combined with these all the es-
sential requirements of a practical naturalist.

To him I feel that I am indebted in great part for my
liking for the great world of out-of-doors, and for a total
indifference to the artificial, pent-up life of the city. He
it was who taught me how to stroll leisurely about when
I felt so disposed, and to see a wealth of wonder every-
where I went. It is proper, therefore, that I should here
give him the credit that is his due ; and, in so doing,
point out to others the desirability of seeking out in their
respective neighborhoods other Uz Gaunts, and profiting
by their acquaintance. There are few villages that do
not contain some one who is better informed than his

A WORD AT THE START. 15

fellows as to the natural history of the neighborhood ;
and it is possible that what you fail to discover during
your rambles will be learned by applying to the practi-
cal Uz Gaunt of your neighborhood. Such was my ex-
perience, and, in advising my readers to adopt a similar
coarse, I can only hope that they may be so fortunate as
to meet with one whose love of Nature was as sincere
as was that of my old friend and teacher; and, that
they can the better realize what manner of man he
was, I have ventured to add " specimen days " spent
with him, and record some of his observations in his
own words.

As a result of many years of rambling about home, I
have seen most if not all of the animals that are now to be
found here ; and, whenever I -saw any of them under cir-
cumstances that were of peculiar interest, I made a note
of it. At various times, and in various publications, as
" Hardwicke's Science Gossip " and " Nature " (London),
" The American Naturalist " (Philadelphia), " Science "
(Cambridge), and " The Popular Science Monthly " (New
York), some of these field-notes have already appeared.
The willingness, on the part of the publishers of these
various serials, to have me reproduce them in their pres-
ent form, is here gratefully acknowledged.

Rather than mar the pages with innumerable brackets,
inclosing the scientific names of the animals I have had
occasion to mention, I have added a complete list of the
mammals, birds, reptiles, batrachians, and fishes of Mer-
cer County, New Jersey. The common or local names I
have used in the body of the work are here repeated, with
the name now adopted by the systematists. This list will
prove, I hope, of some value to those interested in the
subject of the geographical distribution of our animals ;
and will, at least, prevent any difficulty in properly iden-

16 A WORD AT THE START.

tifying any animal to which I have referred under its com-
mon or local name.

If these " notes," the gatherings of many years, shall
serve to amuse or instruct my young readers, or those of
maturer years, if any such there be, then I shall be quite
satisfied with having preserved that which is here given
to the public.

C. C. A.

PROSPECT HILL, TRENTON, NEW JERSEY, March 1, 1884.

EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

CHAPTER I.

OUR MATVTMAT.S IN GENERAL.

THE marked changes that have taken place in the
surface of our country since its settlement, more than
two centuries ago, have naturally had their eifect upon
the fauna. This is realized most readily when we com-
pare our present meager list of mammals with the goodly
array of " might ie beestes " that once roamed through
our primeval forests. Even earlier — in the Indian or pre-
historic times — faunal changes occurred, of even greater
magnitude than any that have since taken place, for,
partly through climatic change, but more through inces-
sant persecution, the moose, reindeer, and bison had dis-
appeared from New Jersey, and the mastodon had be-
come extinct, long before the arrival of the whites.

The bear, elk, deer, wolf, cougar, and beaver still
remained in vast numbers, however ; and, although the
Indians were essentially a hunting people, and depended
largely upon the product of the chase, yet the many ani-
mals that were once common here might have held their
own, had not the occupation of the country by the
Swedes, and the consequent introduction of fire-arms and

18 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

destruction of the forests, brought about results that were
most disastrous to the larger mammals. It was this latter
cause, perhaps, more than all else, that affected the larger
animals of New Jersey, within historic times ; for, as their
haunts were invaded bj the settler, they were driven first
to the remote mountain, forest-clad swamps, and then
westward, as was the Indian; and the presence ever
afterward of the European prevented, in great measure,
their return even to those localities where a new forest-
growth replaced the old. Notwithstanding all these ad-
verse conditions, the bear and deer still linger within our
boundaries, while the wolf has only been exterminated
within fifty years, and the elk and beaver almost as re-
cently. That all the animals mentioned were once com-
mon here is proved by the presence of their bones in
the shell-heaps or kitchen-middens of the Indians, and
also by the accounts of the early travelers and settlers.
Especially are we indebted to Peter Kalm, the Swedish
naturalist, for many most interesting details of the fauna
of the country as it was a century and a half ago ; and
it is most instructive to compare his account of the habits
of the mammals, that were then found here, writh our
own experience of the fauna that still remains among
us. For instance, writing of New Jersey, in 1748, he
says:

" Bears are very numerous higher up in the country,
and do much mischief. Mr. Bartram told me that when
a bear catches a cow, he kills her in the following man-
ner : lie bites a hole into the hide, and blows with all his
power into it, till the animal swells excessively and dies " ;
and again : " They have two varieties of wolves here, which,
however, seem to be of the same species. . . . All the old
Sioedes related that during their childhood, and still
more at the arrival of their fathers, there were excessive

OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL. 19

numbers of wolves in the country, and that their howling
and yelping might be heard all night. They likewise
frequently tore in pieces sheep, hogs, and other young
and small cattle." But a few years afterward they
seemed suddenly to decrease in numbers, for in the year
mentioned Kalm tells us that " they are now seldom
seen, and it is very rarely that they commit any disorders.
This is attributed to the greater cultivation of the coun-
try, and to their being killed in great numbers. But
further up the country (i. e., up the Delaware Valley),
where it is not yet so much inhabited, they are still very
abundant."

Some of our smaller mammals, on the other hand, ap-
pear to have been benefited by the change from a wild
to a cultivated country, as, for instance, the squirrels, of
which Kalm says : " The several sorts of squirrels among
the quadrupeds have spread : for these . . . live chiefly
upon maize, or at least they are most greedy of it."

Speaking of one other well-known mammal, now no
longer found in New Jersey, the same author writes :
" Beavers were formerly abundant in New Sweden "
(New Jersey), " as all the old Swedes here told me. At
that time they saw one bank after another raised in the
rivers by beavers. But after the Europeans came over
in great numbers and cultivated the country better, the
beavers have been partly killed and partly extirpated,
and partly removed higher into the country, where the
people are not so numerous. Therefore there is but a
single place in Pennsylvania where beavers are to be met
with ; their chief food is the bark of the beaver-tree, or
Magnolia glauca, which they prefer to any other."

Deprived of so many of these most interesting animals,
it would seem as if the limited areas of woodland still re-
maining were destitute of any features of mammalian life

20 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME.

worthy our attention. This would be true, if the most
interesting problems in biology could be solved only
by the study of the habits of the larger animals ; but
if we have not the cougar, we have the lynx; if not
the elk, we have the deer ; and if not the beaver, there
remains the musk-rat ; and it is to the study of the habits
of such smaller creatures as have withstood the encroach-
ment of man that our attention will be directed, and
not to the past, when a larger, fiercer, and more attractive
fauna dwelt within our borders.

, In studying the habits of the few mammals that re-
main in New Jersey, it would, indeed, be interesting to
determine to what extent their habits may have changed,
since their environment has been so greatly altered by
the destruction of forests, the drainage of swamps, and
the cultivation of so large a portion of their former do-
main. I have already mentioned these changes, among
others even more patent, as having aided in the extermi-
nation of most of our larger mammals ; and it remains
now to inquire how far the smaller ones that are left
have retained their old habits, and whether they have
acquired any that are new. As their altered surround-
ings must surely have increased the severity of that
struggle for existence that greets every creature born
into the world, it becomes an interesting inquiry whether
the same causes have likewise increased their cunning
and quickened their wits. When we come to consider
certain phases of bird-life, we will find that man's pres-
ence has changed some of their habits to a marked degree,
and the same might reasonably be expected in the case
of our mammals. I confess, however, that I have been
able to find but few indications of such changes, and the
accounts of the habits of the raccoon, musk-rat, and mink,
as detailed by Kalm, seem to be as applicable to these

OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL. 21

animals to-day as when they were written. Still, the
field-notes as to the habits of our mammals, in their pres-
ent environment, are far from being devoid of interest
and permanent value, and when it is remembered that
traits that are peculiar to an animal in one locality, may
not be characteristic of the same animal elsewhere, there
is but little danger that the observations of a naturalist,
even of familiar objects, will prove, in all respects, a
twice-told tale.

CHAPTER II.

GLIMPSES OF WILD-CATS.

To the world-wide traveler, the little stretch of mead-
ows that intervene between my house and the river are,
no doubt, exceedingly tame and uninviting; neverthe-
less, to me they possess innumerable charms ; and I never
weary of looking at them from the brow of the terrace
that forms their eastward boundary. To me, indeed,
they are as varied as a checker-board ; and a bird's-eye
glance at them, such as one gets from the terrace, sug-
gests this comparison. In about equal proportions they
are separated by creeks and ditches into high and dry, and
low and wet ; not divided into two great parts, but rather
into a series of equal parts, evenly distributed.

In June, 1860, there was a remarkable fall of rain,
lasting from the 1st to the 4th of the month. The
rainfall measured a little more than six inches, and as
the storm extended well up the river, the stream was
enormously swollen ; in other words, we had a summer
freshet that submerged the meadows to the depth of
from six to ten feet. This, of course, upset the calcula-
tions of the meadow-haunting birds, who had either to con-
form to the new order of things, or else to quit the neigh-
borhood. Fortunately, the latter alternative was accepted
by but few. As a result, I was astonished to find king-
rails and woodcocks, and even the timid least bittern in
the nearest high, dry, upland fields, skulking among the
bushes that grew in the angles of the worm-fences. The

GLIMPSES OF WILD- CATS. 23

musk-rats and otters, too, were drowned out and came to
the slope of the terrace, seeking shelter in its wooded
portions ; and the minks reveled in an abundance of
drowned nestlings that were floated to the shore. This
latter fact was new to me, as I had never known minks
to eat of food that they had not captured and killed.
During this summer freshet the animal life on the mead-
ows was literally set afloat, and thus familiar animals were
placed in situations that called for the exercise of great
ingenuity. This, of itself, should be enough to satisfy
any naturalist, as it not only offered a rare chance for the
study of these well-known animals, under conditions that
were altogether new ; but the fauna of the meadows

O ?

was increased by scores of animals that found refuge upon
the drift-wood, and were borne along by the current until
meeting here, for the first time, with open bottoms and
the river spread over a wide expanse of country and de-
posited many of the unwilling travelers. Among the
mammals that were thus brought into the neighborhood
— at least their presence may be explained in this way —
were several wild-cats.

Under the circumstances, it was natural that I should
spend the day, wandering here and there, upon these
flooded meadows, and feasting my eyes on the many
sights that were to be seen. It was, for the time, a first-
class menagerie, better than any museum or " zoo " I had
ever visited, because more instructive.

Night came all too soon, but still I lingered, hoping
for further novelties to appear, nor was I disappointed.
While yet a little sunlight lingered in the west, my atten-
tion was called to a commotion, not far off, wherein both
beasts and birds were concerned. As I was floating al-
most aimlessly in my canoe, I heard a scream that was
quite strange to me, and, looking in the direction from

24 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

which the sound came, I was astonished to see a huge
wild-cat, or bay lynx, standing upon a floating log, with
its back arched and hair standing straight up. In the
brush-wood, that had been drifted with the log, stood a
turkey-buzzard, evidently entertaining no fear of the cat,
even if it had no designs upon it. A quarrel was going
on between them, I supposed, and my only thought was
how I might be there to see. To be sure, it was growing
dark, but this availed me nothing. I had no screen on
the canoe, and indeed could only sit bolt upright in the
little craft. If I went too near, the buzzard would fly ;
perhaps, too, the cat would swim off, although I had
doubts as to the latter event. Accepting matters as they
stood, I paddled to within a dozen yards, and then, check-
ing my course, kept the canoe in one position, with as
little movement on my part as possible, and became a
silent spectator. Of course, both the cat and the buzzard
saw me, and glared at me and at each other alternately ;
but neither changed its position, except to move its head.
There was evidently a mystery about it. Things were
not as they seemed. These creatures, it was now appar-
ent, were; not there of their own choice. Satisfied of
this, I drew a little nearer. At this, the buzzard raised
its wings, solemnly shook its head, and expressed its dis-
approbation by ejecting a semi-fluid mass of half-digested
matter, the odors from which were not suggestive of
" Araby the blest." Still, the buzzard remained at his
post, and I at mine. As to the cat, it held this act of the
buzzard to be adding insult to injury, and struggled terri-
bly to be free ; and now, for the first time, I saw that it
was a prisoner. One of its fore-feet was securely held in
the jaws of a large steel trap, which was fastened to the
log. The truth was now plain. The animal had been
caught during the recent storm, miles up the river, and

GLIMPSES OF WILD- CATS. 25

subsequently tree, trap, and cat had floated thitherward
together. Being no longer afraid that it might run away
or swim off, I ventured to approach a little nearer. My
curiosity now centered in the turkey-buzzard, for appar-
ently there was nothing to prevent its flying away, and,
as it is a timid bird, I was indeed sorely puzzled. Going
yet a little nearer, I could just make out, in the uncertain
light, that a sheep was floating in the brush- wood, and
was partly upheld by it. On this the buzzard had
feasted, notwithstanding the proximity of the snarling
cat, and now it was so gorged that it could not fly, as the
bird must needs have a chance to take a little run and
jump before it can mount upward. Standing on a mat
of 'drifting brush- wood, this was impracticable, and. while
free in one sense, the bird was, for the time being, as
essentially a prisoner as the trapped wild-cat.

Finding that I could not direct the floating mass to
the nearest dry land, in consequence of its bulk, I con-
cluded to remain conveniently near and see what might
happen. It soon, however, became too dark to distin-
guish either cat or buzzard, and I left them for a time
in statu quo. Some hours later, by bright moonlight, I
paddled to the spot again, but found the currents had
changed the position of the floating mass and its living
freight. The raft had lodged against a tree-top and be-
come firmly fixed, and the buzzard had been given a
chance. At all events, the bird was missing. Not so,
though, the cat. It was still on the log, but not stand-
ing up. Going closely to it, I found that it was sorely
wounded and both eyes were pecked out. There was
no doubt but that the buzzard had realized the cat's
helplessness, and, although gorged with savory mutton,
had attacked the poor creature " out of pure deviltry." I
ended the cat's misery by shooting it.

26 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

The last wild-cat I saw (1876) was met with most un-
expectedly. For weeks I had been watching the move-
ments of a family of ground-squirrels, or " hackees," as we
call them, racing to and fro along the garden-fence. I
had followed them up persistently, and once I had dug out
one of their subterranean homes. The family history of
those ground-squirrels I had well-nigh unraveled, and
was disposed to worry them no more. Late one pleasant
autumn afternoon, while lying, half concealed, in a mat
of long grass, watching the few ground-squirrels that
were scampering about, I noticed that suddenly a great
fear overcame them. They ran to and fro, with no
apparent object, and kept up an incessant squeal-like
bark. Turning in every direction to see the cause of
this sudden commotion, I at last discovered, crouching 011
the trunk of a lately-hewed chestnut-tree, a fierce wild-
cat, that looked as though it would kill all the squirrels
by its angry glances. I have never seen at any time so
thoroughly devilish a countenance on any animal as in
this case. In the murderous jaws of the cat was a squir-
rel. I remained perfectly still, having the animal in full
view. Presently it let the captured squirrel fall, and,
placing one fore-paw upon it, the cat gave a long, low
growl, very unlike any sound made by the domestic cat.
It was repeated at short intervals, and not being responded
to, so far as I could detect, the animal again caught up
the dead squirrel and bounded into the thickets. I fol-
lowed cautiously but rapidly, and soon found the animal
again. It was now crouching at the foot of an enormous
oak, and with much snarling and low mutterings was de-
vouring the squirrel. This accomplished, the cat curled
itself up in a little patch of sunshine to take a nap. I
cautiously withdrew ; but on my return soon after with
a gun, I found the cat had left for parts unknown.

CHAPTER III.

WICKED WEASELS.

THOUGH not generally known to farmers and poultry-
raisers, there are two kinds of weasels found here, and I
am disposed to believe that one is as seldom in mischief
as its larger cousin is out of it. For a long time I did
not recognize any difference between the many weasels
that I made note of. They varied greatly in size, but
not otherwise. In my field-notes, it is true, I find dis-
tinctions made, under such headings as " little " or " short-
tailed " weasels, to distinguish certain individuals from
others that were typical examples of the commoner wea-
sel or ermine. It appears that this difference in size is of
"specific value," as the systematists have it, and what
shall follow refers to the "little weasel," a beautiful
creature, in color brown above and white as snow be-
neath, and with a little pointed tail of a uniform brown
color. This little weasel is not nearly so common as the
ermine.

The true ermine, or large weasel, is well known every-
where, and needs no further mention, except to say that
in New Jersey it very seldom turns white ; and to ques-
tion the statement of Audubon that in autumn they do
not remain together, and do not hunt in company. I am
fully convinced that the individuals of a family, at least,
frequently, if not habitually, remain together until March
or April of the ensuing year, when they separate. In

28 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

two instances, both occurring in the month of November,
several weasels were caught in traps, in the course of
three successive nights, and one was found to be an adult
male, another a female, while the others, being smaller,
were therefore believed to be the young.

I have knowledge, also, of a man being attacked by
several weasels and badly bitten by them. Before he es-
caped from their fury, he managed to kill two of them,
and I judged these at the time to be an adult male and
a young one of the summer just past. The man who
passed through this novel but dangerous experience be-
lieved there was " at least a dozen of them in all " ; and I
have no doubt but that it was a family of weasels that
were then hunting or traveling in company.

During the past few years I have, during winter,
met with an occasional specimen of the smaller weasel,
one of which was white. It fell into the hands of a taxi-
dermist, and was lost to science. It measured, before
skinning, six and one half inches from the tip of the
snout to the root of the tail. The tail itself measured
two and one fourth inches to the tip of the last caudal ver-
tebra, beyond which extended a few coarse hairs.

Like all of the tribe to which this little mammal be-
longs, this creature has the graceful, wavy gait, when
rambling about, that is so characteristic of the common
or larger weasel. If unmolested, it moves deliberately,
and from side to side, as though ever on the watch for
prey. If pursued, the gait alters somewhat, the body is
less curved, and it scampers off at great speed, although
not so fast that a good running dog or even a cat can not
overtake it.

Quite diurnal in their habits — although nocturnal,
too, I suppose — they not unfrequently come to our very
door-yards, and I have known one to be killed by the cat,

WICKED WEASELS. 29

which probably mistook it for a ground-squirrel or " chip-
munk." When seized, it discharged from infra-caudal
glands a fluid having a faint mephitic odor, which evi-
dently so far sickened pussy that she was content with
simply killing the animal, and did not attempt to eat it,
play with it, or carry it off.

So far as I have observed, the little weasel prefers
wooded hill-sides, with a southern outlook. This may
not, of course, be applicable to the animal as found in
other places. Those that I have seen were all on the one
sunny, wooded hill-side, which has been my only hunting-
ground. Given the woods, there must needs be an open
meadow near, for it is to the latter that they go to hunt ;
while in the former they have their nests and find safe
cover from pursuing foes.

In May, 1878, a pair of these small weasels took up
their abode near my house. My first intimation of their
presence was the marked diminution in the number of
ground-squirrels, or chipmunks, which I had intended to
carefully study. Then a young chicken, now and then,
was found lying dead, with a hole in its neck. The cry of
"Weasel !" was set up, but none were seen for some time.
During the first week in June, as I was looking for birds'
nests, I spied one of these animals running in the path
ahead of me. Like a flash it disappeared in a stump that
extended into the path. I followed it up, with all pos-
sible dispatch, and from the " signs " it was evident that
this weasel had its home here, and was continually going
and coming out of a little tortuous passage-way among
the roots of the stump. I kept my own counsel, and
quietly followed up my discovery with the following re-
sults :

The pair proved to be quite diurnal in their habits,
however they may have spent their nights, and were fre-

30 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME.

quently seen, at various times of day, but never together.
On emerging from its semi-subterranean retreat, tie ani-
mal did not appear to look about, but straightway darted
off into a thicket of blackberry-bushes near by, giving
great leaps, as though fearful of leaving behind any scent
or trace by which the nest could be found. I noticed
this sudden darting from the entrance beneath the stump
on several occasions, and presume it is a customary
method of leaving or entering their retreats. Twice I
saw the weasel return, but in neither case did it bring
any food with it, unless it was some object smaller than
a mouse, nor was there any trace of fur or feathers about
the entrance, although I am satisfied that this same pair
had destroyed the ground-squirrels that a year previously
had been so very abundant.

Ten days later, I concluded to dig out the nest, if
possible, in order to destroy the litter of young it was
supposed to contain, and thus prevent the serious raids
which I feared would be made on my poultry.

The nest was scarcely two feet from the entrance on
the hill-side, but was effectually protected by the large
roots of the stump, behind some of which it was situated.
It was lined with dead leaves, grass, and a few feathers
of (I think) the robin and the chewink, and the skin of
a snake, but no sign of the weasels was there. The
nest had no odor about it, that I could detect, but my
terrier evidently smelt something, for he dug about the
stump, with great energy, for several days after I had
completed my examinations. I discovered, soon after,
that the weasels had, very shortly before I endeavored to
dig them out, transferred their quarters to a rats' burrow
under a pig-sty, not far off, and had made a radical
change in their habits and diet, in so far as they now fed
exclusively upon the rats in the neighborhood. There

WICKED WEASELS. 31

was found in their new quarters a large pile of rats'
bones, and, as subsequent experience proved, these little
weasels had effectually cleared the premises of that terri-
ble pest. My dog, however, was constantly on the watch,
and finally worried the weasels so that they again sought
new quarters. In September, I found them once again,
and this time they had made a new home under a large
oak growing on the border of a meadow. Here they
seemed to be living wholly upon crickets, frogs, and
mice, particularly the pretty white-footed or smaller
jumping mouse. The number of common black crickets
and grasshoppers destroyed by them was enormous, and
this fact went a great way toward recommending the
animal as being really sometimes as beneficial as it was
at others destructive. Certainly this one family of weasels
did me no harm. They destroyed half a dozen young
chickens, I know ; but this is offset by ridding me of a
plague of rats, at least for that year, and then of the
grasshoppers that I have mentioned.

The care that had been exercised, in early summer, to
prevent the discovery of their nest, was now abandoned.
The ground in front of it, and but little less so all about
the tree, was covered with the remains of the crickets and
grasshoppers that swarmed in the surrounding meadows.
My impression is, that the weasels were constantly on the
alert for them, and seized every one that ventured upon
the grass near the nest. That frogs had also largely been
preyed upon was evident from the many bones that I
subsequently found in and near the entrance to the nest.

While mice were the game which they appeared regu-
larly to hunt, one species proved not at all easy of cap-
ture, unless when surprised. This was the jumping
mouse, or jerboa. Quite late in the month (Septem-
ber) I was intensely interested in seeing my weasels once

32 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

more, under quite different circumstances. While stand-
ing on the border of a wide stretch of meadow, the grass
on which had lately been mown, I saw a jumping-mouse
give an enormous leap, and no sooner had it touched the
ground than it leaped a second time, with even greater
energy, but not in the same direction. For some reason
it had turned about, and in leaping returned very nearly
to the spot from which it had first jumped. Its unusual
actions had roused my curiosity, and, going quickly toward
it, I was surprised to see a little weasel bound nimbly, in
its peculiar manner, over the grass. As it turned out,
there were three of these animals, near each other, and
undoubtedly associated together in the hunt. One of
them had flushed the mouse, which literally came very
near jumping into the jaws of a second, and had I not
disturbed them, it would probably have been seized on
touching the ground, after its second leap, as one of the
weasels was very near the spot where it alighted. On
my remaining quiet, the weasels resumed their hunt, and
one, or the three in concert, flushed the mouse several
times, before it reached the thicket near by, which I
hope, at least, afforded it security against their tireless
persecution.

This incident, and my impressions from the little I
have observed of the larger weasel or ermine, convince
me that during autumn and winter the families remain
together. If this is not true of weasels in wilder and un-
cultivated regions, is it a habit lately acquired by those
that live in the more thickly settled districts, being found
conducive to their safety ?

CHAPTER IY.

OUE COMMON MINK.

So familiar is the common mink to every one who
has lived in the country, and so minutely have its habits
been described, that nothing can be added to our knowl-
edge of the animal. My field-notes are filled with brief
references to it, and I find that twenty years have come
and gone since first I saw a living specimen. This first
experience was very memorable, and is even yet always
recalled, whenever, as I float leisurely down the creek,
on the lookout for fish or birds, I happen to catch a
glimpse of a stray mink, as it runs along the shore in
quest of fish, flesh, or fowl, as the case may be. I seem
to witness the struggle all over again, and need no refer-
ence to my notes to refresh my memory, though, to insure
greater accuracy, I will transcribe them : " Cold, raw day,
for the second week in May (1860), but, in spite of the
threatening sky, went down to Watson's Creek to look
for warblers. Saw nothing but yellow-rumped warblers
(Sylvicola coronata), and only a few of them, and a single
listless red-start (Setophaga ruticilla\t}\dLt evidently wished
itself in the sunny South again. Near the ' big ditch,'
although I was a long way off, I saw something moving
in a seemingly rough-and-tumble fashion, so I hurried
on. It proved to be a good-sized ' snapper' (Chelydra
serpentina) having a tussle with a mink. The turtle had
the mink by one hind-leg, and held on like grim death,

34: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

while the mink had its jaws buried in the snapper's
throat, and it, too, held on, although t'he snapper kept his
head moving in and out, all the time, in such a way that
the back of the mink's head was being rubbed against
the edge of the top shell, and was now all raw and bleed-
ing. The snapper was making for the ditch, twenty
yards off, but moved pretty slowly. I took hold of him
by the tail, and, holding him up, put my foot on the
mink and pulled hard. It was no use. Neither let go,
and it was a question of the turtle's tail or the mink's
leg. Then I tried poking the snapper with my cane,
and finally he gave a snap at the stick, but was too much
encumbered by the mink's clutch of his throat to seize
it. The mink, however, didn't mean to let go, for, when
I held the turtle well up from the ground, it still held
on, dangling in the air, and apparently dead. A smart
rap on the head, while swinging in the air, made him let
go at last ; but the broken leg and loss of blood had used
him up, and he lay on the ground, not dead, but dying."
This is my " note " of more than twenty years ago. It
is among the first of my field-notes, and I let it stand, as
I wrote it, while rambling about Crosswicks meadows.
Ever since I have admired the pluck of the mink, for
here was a case where, for a considerable time, under the
most painful circumstances, with its body describing a
nearly complete circle, it had firmly maintained its grip,
determined to sell its life as dearly as possible.

That the mink has been able to hold its own, even in
thickly-settled districts, is due to the fact that it possesses
advantages which have enabled it to elude the persecu-
tion to which, at times, all our mammals are subjected.
Among these are an acute sense of smell, so that it can
scent danger from afar, and a high rate of speed when
chased " in the open." Like the little weasel, it can also

OUR COMMON MINK. 35

hide in a marvelously small space. In fact, everything
is so favorable to it that it has learned no tricks, and re-
sorts to no stratagem when it finds itself at close quarters
with an enemy. It has, also, in common with the otter
and the musk-rat, the advantage of being as much at
home in the water as on the land ; and hence it largely
frequents those irreclaimable tracts of marsh and swamp
that, being useless to man, are but little frequented by
him. Still, the mink has suffered more than most animals
from the attentions of the professional trapper.

Whenever I have seen a mink, in my meadow ram-
bles, I have been impressed with the fact that all animals
that fear man are as much on the lookout for him, and
try as sedulously to avoid him, as they do any of their
natural enemies. This fear of enemies I believe to be
ever uppermost in the minds of animals ; and possibly
the mink considers man an enemy to be shunned just as
decidedly as the toad shuns the snake. If, then, animals
entertain this dread of man at all times, is it at all strange
that we so seldom see them when we go bungling about
their haunts? We probably never take a walk in the
woods that wre are not watched by many creatures which
we do not see ; and many a squeak or whistle, which, if
we heard at all, is attributed to some bird, is a signal-cry
of danger made by some one animal, which, having seen
us, takes this method of warning its fellows. Even the
little white-footed mouse can squeak so shrilly as to be
heard several yards ; and the bark of the gray squirrel is
a far-reaching note. The little ground-squirrel, or chip-
munk, can whistle a single note of warning, that scarcely
differs from the clear notes of the crested titmouse.

I have more than once tested this in the case of the
mink. Mooring my boat near where I had reason to
believe these animals had their nests, and remaining per-

36 EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

fectly quiet and in hiding, I have usually been rewarded
by seeing the minks moving about as soon as their confi-
dence was restored by the absence of all signs of life in
or about the boat. They would come out of their bur-
rows, or from under large roots, and dive into the water,
or it might be that they carried some food from the shore
to their retreat. Any act of this kind, free from the re-
straint of fear, is in the case of all animals the most inter-
esting and instructive, and, were our opportunities of this
kind more frequent, our knowledge of animal life would
soon be largely increased. Important as it is to measure
their bones and count their teeth, most of the great prob-
lems of biology can, after all, only be solved by careful
study of animal life in its native haunts, and in an envi-
ronment not essentially influenced by the presence of
man.

A few words as to the animals upon which the mink
preys. While from its quick movements and weasel-like
capability of stealing quickly along through tall grass,
without adding a tremor to a blade, the mink has
everything in its favor, it limits its attacks to those birds
that are not capable of serious resistance. In August,
when the marsh-meadows are teeming with the sora-rail,
the minks have a jolly time, and capture hundreds of
them, in spite of the speed at which these birds can run,
and of their moderate power of flight. In early summer
minks destroy many young ducks by seizing them by the
feet and drowning them, as does the musk-rat, the snap-
ping-turtle, and, as claimed by some, even the big bull-frog.
But when it comes to attacking the herons and bitterns,
except perhaps the least bittern, it is a question whether
the mink would not be at a serious disadvantage in ap-
proaching them. Unless they could seize these tall birds
by the throat, which would not be easily accomplished,

OUR COMMON MINK. 37

they would be certain to receive, in return for their au-
dacity, a fatal stab from the beak of the bird. Over-con-
fident spaniels that have been sent to retrieve disabled
herons have been fatally injured, and why a like result
should not occur when an uninjured bird is attacked I
can not imagine. Judging from a little experience of
my own with a wounded bittern, I should say the nim-
bleness of the mink would not avail it very much.

Besides birds and fish, minks devour a miscellaneous
mass of animal matter. Much of this is carried to the
entrance of their nests and eaten at leisure. In one in-
stance I counted fragments of what I believe to be over
three hundred cray-fish, besides bones of fishes in abun-
dance, and the shells also of three painted turtles. The
latter were probably dead when found by the minks.

While occasional fights doubtless occur between
musk-rats and minks, in consequence of their usually liv-
ing close together, I never had any reason to consider
them as u natural enemies," and as being forever at war.
Statements to this effect have frequently been made, but
such has not been the result of my own observation.

CHAPTER Y.

THE SKUNK.

IF happily we can make our observations unseen by
the animal, we can not but admire the beauty of the
markings and general " make-up " of this handsome mam-
mal ; but, even under the most favorable circumstances,
much caution is desirable on the part of the observer, for
too great eagerness may result in vexing the animal, and
thus destroying the balmy freshness of the sweet June
woods.

Although seldom seen at present, in comparison with
fifty years ago, skunks are probably less rare than they
are supposed to be. In thickly-settled districts, however,
they have become more wary on account of their perse-
cution by dogs, and in such localities, I believe, become
strictly nocturnal in their habits. While disclaiming any
particular predilection for the animal, I must admit that
I like them, and when an opportunity offers to follow one
up I always do so with a feeling of interest, all the greater,
perhaps, from the danger that attends the investigation,
though, as yet, I have never met with an accident.

I am disposed to pay them a high compliment at the
outset, for, from my observations of a dozen or more dur-
ing the last twenty years, I credit them with being as
cunning as foxes. This is at variance with the observa-
tions of naturalists generally, but here I am speaking of

THE SKVNK. 39

the few that linger in a thickly-settled locality. But of
this hereafter.

In his notes on the skunk, writtsn in 1748, Kalm
makes one statement concerning them which is of consid-
erable interest, if it be not an error. I refer to their
ability to climb trees. He says : " It keeps its young
one in holes in the ground and in hollow trees ; for it
does not confine itself to the ground, but climbs up trees
with the greatest agility ; it is a great enemy to birds,
for it breaks their eggs and devours their young ones."

Now, Dr. Coues, recently, writing of these animals,
remarks that they " neither climb trees nor swim in the
water " ; and again, he describes them as lacking " the
scansorial ability of the martens." I can not speak of
the skunks of 1748, but I am very sure that I have never
seen one climbing a tree, or even resting among its
branches ; but that they have a trace of " scansorial abil-
ity " I can testify, for I have several times witnessed
their walking — once running — on the top rail of a worm
fence, and certainly this feat requires an amount of agil-
ity that would, I think, enable the animal to do a little
climbing if the trunks of the trees were not perpendicu-
lar. Still, I have a Skye terrier that likewise runs on the
top rail of fences with perfect ease, arid yet he can not
climb a tree. The difference between the two animals is
to be found in the fact that the skunk climbs to the top of
the fence, while the terrier jumps on it. But then comes
the question, How does the skunk get into hay-mows if
he can not climb ? Surely he never would allow himself
to be pitched in with the hay, in July, and be content to
remain there quietly until winter, without giving the un-
lucky farmer cause to think that " somewhere near there
be a pesky skoonk," as was once said to me.

But if not a good climber, or not a climber at all, the

40 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME.

skunk can dig with marvelous ease, and in an incredibly
short time it can bury itself deeply in the ground. Late
in the autumn of last year (1881) I chanced to overtake
one of these creatures in an open meadow. On discover-
ing my approach, the animal started off on a brisk trot,
heading for the nearest trees. I made no effort to over-
take it, for obvious reasons, but kept the animal in sight.
When it reached the edge of the meadow, where stood a
clump of large trees, it immediately commenced digging
with great rapidity, and in certainly less than one minute
it had tunneled so far beneath the roots of one of the
trees that I could not see it, although, of course, I was
more cautious in my explorations than would be neces-
sary with any other mammal.

This ability to tunnel in loose earth stands them well
in need when they frequent thickly-settled neighborhoods,
as they often make deep, temporary burrows in plowed
fields, and find there a safe retreat during the day. As
they can dig for themselves such an underground shelter
as they need in a few moments, of course it is occupied but
for a few hours. At night they are abroad in search of
food, and, let them be where they may at daybreak, they
can conceal themselves in a few moments so effectually
that their whereabouts is not suspected. This, I believe,
is the secret of their survival in the immediate vicinity of
our towns. Had they only elaborate burrows to which,
week after week, they resorted, then, doubtless, they
would soon be discovered and driven off or destroyed.
When the ground is loose or newly plowed, the skunk
also resorts to digging to escape pursuit. I have knowl-
edge of one instance in which the animal buried itself
so quickly as to escape, although hard pressed. Then it
did not throw out the dirt behind it as it progressed, but
wormed itself through the loose earth much as a mole

THE SKUNK. 41

does. I subsequently determined that the skunk, in this
case, reached a depth of four feet and tunneled a distance
of nearly twenty It then turned about, and two hours
later came to the surface within a few inches of where
it entered the ground. When pursued by dogs, however,
they do not trust to digging alone, but they endeavor to
avoid an encounter by throwing the dog off the scent,
and to do this they will pass along the top rail of a fence.
If this fails, then their peculiar powers are brought into
play.

I believe that this animal has learned the wisdom of
avoiding the use of its peculiar means of defense when
other avenues of escape are open, as it seems to know,
possibly through " inherited experiences," that this dis-
charge, while driving off one enemy, will attract a dozen
others. Certainly, it is as much annoyed by the fearful
stench as the unfortunate recipient of the discharge, and
it must know, if it has any trace of intelligence, that
dogs from every quarter will be attracted, not by the
sweet savor thereof, but by the fact that the animal that
originates this " atmospheric disturbance " is somewhere
in the vicinity.

From a series of observations made in 1872, I am dis-
posed to believe that the skunk discharges the defensive
glands, when distended, in holes which it digs for the
purpose and then covers over. This is a matter of pru-
dence, comfort, and cleanliness to them, as it renders
them less liable to be persecuted by dogs; and their
nests and haunts during the early summer, when they
have their offspring to look after, are much less offensive.
Indeed, a nest of skunks is no more offensive to me than
that of the mink or weasel. Whether the care exhibited
by them in keeping their homes clean and comparatively
odorless is due to their own dislike of the smell of their

42 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

offensive discharges, or is simply a measure of precau-
tion, the fact remains that such homes are often in fre-
quented spots, and the presence of the animal is not sus-
pected. Remaining carefully concealed throughout the
day, and using great caution in their wandering at night,
they escape notice, and are thus able to rear their young
in safety.

While not exhibiting the aversion to water that char-
acterizes our common cats, the skunk does not appear to
take to swimming voluntarily, even when closely pursued.
Thus, when trying to evade an enemy, if it comes to the
bank of a pond or creek, it will usually turn from its
course, and seek safety in some other way than by flight.
Occasionally, however, in the upper valley of the Dela-
ware, where these animals are much more abundant than
in the southern or tide-water portion of the State, the
heavy freshets of early spring will catch them napping,
and then they are forced to seek safety by clinging to
floating logs. In this position they take an unwilling
ride often of many miles, and if luckily they escape
drowning, it is only to find themselves landed in a level,
scantily-wooded country, the very opposite in all respects
to their original home.

Here it may not be inopportune to add that when,
as has frequently happened, a skunk, an opossum, and
several musk-rats seek safety, at the same time, from a
sudden flood, and they all take refuge on the same log,
there is no visible commotion or disturbance among them,
though the wide berth given the skunk warrants the be-
lief that all our mammals have a wholesome dread of the
possible exercise of his peculiar method of defense. My
impression, however, is that, when skunks are fighting
among themselves, or contending with minks or opos-
sums, as sometimes happens, over some hapless chicken,

THE SKUNK. 43

the use of their defensive and offensive glands is not
brought into play as is the case when they are brought
to bay or seized by a dog or man. Skunks, however,
had this power before they were exposed to the attacks
of men and dogs, and, if not used as a means of offense
when among mammals smaller than themselves, it was
acquired as the necessary safeguard against their dog-like
enemies, the wolves and foxes.

When their involuntary river-voyages are undertaken,
it often happens that a short swim becomes necessary.
This is always so clumsily done that, if a skunk has more
than a few yards to go, it will probably be drowned.
They are not equally averse, I find, to traveling on ice ;
and the last living skunk I saw was walking on the ice
from a small wooded island in Watson's Creek to the
main shore. While inactive and prone to long naps in
extreme winter weather, the skunk can hardly be consid-
ered as hibernating.

Skunks are very partial to snakes as an article of food.
In fact, these, with frogs and birds' eggs, seem to be their
main support. Were they under all circumstances odor-
less and quite harmless, their eager search for these latter
articles is sufficient to condemn them. It is bad enough
that the demands of science should seem to require the
collection in a systematic manner of an occasional nest
and complement of eggs. This can not be avoided ; but
to aggravate the evil by having a skunk destroy most of
the ground-nests in the neighborhood is beyond all en-
durance. Better, surely, a nest of thrushes or song-spar-
rows than a litter of skunks. An animal that destroys
birds' nests is always a nuisance, though I do not object
to any other, however wicked. But to return to the
snakes. When pressed by hunger, and hunting by day-
light, the skunk prefers to go after snakes rather than

44 GAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

frogs, or to risking itself within the precincts of the poul-
try-yard. Indeed, small snakes are evidently a great
dainty, and the skunk appears to be more active when
he finds a garter-snake, blind-worm, or flat-head adder,
than at any other time. Having discovered a snake, he
rises upon his hind-feet, and, giving a bear-like apology
for a dance, he endeavors to seize the snake by the tail.
If successful, he shakes the snake vigorously, as a dog
would do, and seizing it, when dead or nearly so, near
the middle of the body, he carries it off to his burrow, or
to a hollow log, or to whatever shelter he has at the
time.

In June, 1863, I witnessed a terrific combat between
a large skunk and a black snake, which, I judge, measured
fully five feet in length. The prowling skunk had evi-
dently seized the snake by the tail, and endeavored to
give it a violent shake, as it would a little garter-snake.
This angered the snake, and, turning like lightning, he
wrapped himself about the skunk, completely encircling
both neck and body. The head was so far free that the
skunk could give the snake nip after nip, though it could
not get a strong enough hold to disable it. Rolling over
and over, hissing and snapping, the snake nearly con-
cealed by the long hair of the skunk, the two creatures
presented a strange spectacle as they struggled, the one
to conquer, the other to escape. After watching them
for fully five minutes, I ventured to approach, and dealt
the two a hard blow with a club, and then ran back a
few paces, not knowing what might be the result. Turn-
ing about, I ventured to return part of the way to see
whether the struggle continued. All was comparatively
quiet, and, coming still nearer, I found that the snake had
relinquished its hold and was slowly retiring in a dis-
abled condition. The skunk was lying quite motionless,

THE SKUNK. 45

and proved to be dying, though, not dead. Soon after,
I examined the animal carefully, and found that it had
been strangled, or nearly so.

During this combat there was no discharge of the de-
fensive glands of the skunk. Whether these were in-
active at the time, or whether they were disabled by the
snake's attack, can not, of course, be determined.

CHAPTER VI.

THE OTTER.

OTTERS are now so seldom seen, even along Cross-
wicks Creek, that it may be counted a piece of great good
luck to meet with one in the course of a day's ramble.
I feel repaid for the exertion of a ten-mile tramp if one
crosses my path, or if I catch a glimpse of one as it dives
into the stream. Not much to be learned, I grant, from
such a brief acquaintance ; but there is, at least, the satis-
faction of knowing that otters are about ; and then it
becomes our business to find them, not for them to make
an exhibition of themselves, or publish the whereabouts
of their chosen haunts.

Though these animals are now quite rare, it has not
been many years since they were comparatively abundant.
Local history informs us that they were formerly to be
found in Crosswicks Creek, and in my mucky meadows
even, in great numbers, and it has preserved the details
of certain wonderful hunts in which a dozen or more
pelts were secured in one day. "My four otter-skin
lap-robes and my otter-skin great-coat " are items in the
will of one who lived near by, less than half a century
ago. There are even old trappers still living who for-
merly depended upon otter-skins as the main source of
their profit in a winter's trapping. So much for the ir-
recoverable past !

My notes make mention of a sunny day in June, 1869,

THE OTTER. 47

when I happened to wander to a wild spot some four
miles away, on the muddy, sloping banks of a tideless
stream. Here I took my stand, and in the dense shadow of
the overhanging trees began my observations on the owls
and jays that were, as I thought, my only companions.
Soon, however, I found out my mistake, as a loud splash
notified me of the presence of other company. It was an
otter, and, as my approach had not been seen and I stood
motionless for some minutes after hearing the splash, I
was duly rewarded for my prudence and patience by see-
ing the animal slowly emerge from the glassy surface
of the pond, holding a large fish in his mouth. With
awkward steps he crawled up the opposite bank, and in
a marvelously short time he devoured the fish, or most
of it. Then walking to a point beyond, but in full view,
he squatted down until his belly rested on the muddy
slope, and, holding his head well up, with an expression
of extreme satisfaction, he slowly slid down the smooth
bank and disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

I waited a full hour, but he did not reappear. Since
then I have but seldom seen living otters. Once I over-
took a large one, that at first u showed fight." It was
in a small but dense huckleberry-swamp without water
enough for a comfortable bath. To find these animals
thus, away from deep ponds and running streams, is a
rare occurrence. Their main food-supply is fish, and
what substitute they find in swamps I can not say, un-
less it be the innumerable frogs that abound in such lo-
calities.

I have never been able to determine positively what
sounds and cries, if any, are made by this animal. Al-
though my opportunities for studying their habits have
been very few, I have always had this matter in mind
whenever I have chanced to catch a glimpse of them.

4:8 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

From a single occurrence, I am disposed to believe that
they have what we may call a whistle, or whistle-like
scream, uttered occasionally when several of them are
met together. My reasons for thinking so are founded
upon an incident that happened several years ago. While
bobbing for eels in Watson's Creek, near by, one pleasant
moonlight night in August, my attention was drawn to
a commotion in the water, about fifty "yards distant. I
quickly raised the " bob," and gave my whole attention
to the splashing and dashing, which were evidently caused
by some three or four animals of large size. What they
were I could not positively determine; but they were
evidently too large for minks, and I could hardly believe
that they were musk-rats. The clear light of the harvest
moon, however, enabled me to see that mammals of some
kind were either fighting or playing on and about a half-
sunken log, one portion of which projected a short distance
above the surface of the water. At three different times,
one, and, as it seemed, the largest of these animals was
alone upon the projecting portion of the log, the others
at the time being nowhere visible. At each time that
this unknown creature was thus alone, it uttered a pecul-
iar cry or call, which may be described as commencing
with a low whistle and ending with a hiss. The sound
was unlike anything that I had ever heard, and, while
somewhat cat-like, would never be mistaken for the cry
of that animal. Each time the animal made this sound,
it appeared to raise itself on its hind-feet and then dived,
when almost immediately the other two or three appeared
and mounted the log. There was not sufficient light for
me to determine anything positively, but I have always
believed that the animals I saw and heard were a female
otter and her young.

The last otter that I saw alive was in February, 1874.

TEE OTTER. 4.9

In the same stream where, thirteen years before, I saw
the supposed otter and her young, amid cakes of floating
ice, during a freshet, I saw a very large otter come to the
surface with a chub in its mouth. It seemed quite at
home in the icy waters, but dived immediately when it
saw me. Soon, however, it reappeared far out in the
stream, and clambering on a cake of ice it drifted slowly
outward " to join the brimming river."

I sought to drive it from this stand, by shouting
and throwing snow-balls ; but it evidently knew that I
could do it no harm at that distance, and it appeared to
watch me with sublime indifference as it slowly floated
seaward on the trembling raft of ice.

This otter was much of the time within easy range,
had I had a gun or rifle ; but the animal seemed to know
that I was unarmed. At all events, it showed no such
fear as animals usually do when a hunter is about. It
may be a mere coincidence, I know, but for many years
I have noticed that I invariably have better luck in
seeing mammals and birds when I go into the fields un-
armed than when I have my gun with me. It is cer-
tainly true that crows know a gun when they see it, and
may it not be that among our large mammals this knowl-
edge obtains also ?

Kalm does not make much mention of the otter, al-
though seen by him frequently. His one brief remark
concerning them refers to the ease with which they can
be tamed and trained. He says : " Beavers have been
so tamed that they have gone out fishing, and brought
home what they had caught to their masters. This often
is the case with otters, of which I have seen some which
were as tame as dogs, and followed their masters wher-
ever they went ; if he went into a boat, the otter went
with him, jumped into the water, and after a while came

3

50 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

rip with a fish." This, alas! is something of the past,
and no recent attempts to train otters have been made in
my neighborhood. The nearest approach to it was an
effort simply to tame a half -grown specimen, and this
could scarcely be called a success, as the animal never
would allow itself to be handled, but fought the dog and
bit the tamer's wife— refused food, and died in less than
a week.

CHAPTEK VII.

THE FLYING-SQIJIKKEL.

ABOUT sunset, or even later, after nightfall, out there
comes from some hidden hollow in the trees, with a joy-
ous bound, our merry-hearted pet — the flying-squirrel —
and, hastening to the outermost branch of his home-tree,
he literally spreads his wings and sails through the air
from tree to tree, on and on, through the depths of the
woods.

But not alone is he when thus on his nightly travels.
Another and another of his kin come from the same hol-
low in the tree, and young and old traverse in like man-
ner some well-known tree-top route in search of their
daily food. Often they do not return until morning, un-
less it is very dark, and then they soon return by the
same route, chattering like school-girls as they pass with
marvelous expedition from tree to tree. It must not,
however, be supposed that they promptly retire for the re-
mainder of the night, even when they happen to come
home early. Yery far from it. Their jaunt seems only
to have stretched their limbs and given them a taste for
the frolic among the upper branches of the trees, and is
really indescribable. It would be hard enough to give the
details of these movements even if plainly seen in broad
day. Such a chance, however, seldom or never occurs,
and the little I have seen of them has been by stray
glimpses caught during clear moonlit nights. Unsatis-

52 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

factory as these opportunities have been, they fully con-
vinced me that the scansorial abilities of these animals
are quite equal to those of the common gray squirrel, and
they have also shown me that for hours these little squir-
rels will clamber and jump from limb to limb of the
same tree, without calling into play their flight-power.

When disturbed during the day, unless hurt, they are
for a considerable time as stupid as owls, probably be-
cause " their large eyes, like those of the owl, can not
meet the glare of the sun." In time, however, even
though the day be very bright, they seem to realize the
situation, and then, if on the ground, they scamper off
with an easy but not graceful gait ; but if they happen
to be in a tree among trees, then they use their " wings."
Never have I seen them, on being disturbed, make any
effort to conceal themselves, which they might easily do ;
more readily, indeed, being smaller, than the gray squirrel,
which appears always to elude pursuit by an effort to
conceal itself, and only to run away when it finds that its
previous effort at hiding has failed. That the flying-
squirrel should not adopt a similar mode of seeking
safety when pursued has ever been a mystery to me.

From numerous experiments and many observations,
I am satisfied that the flight-power of this squirrel ena-
bles it to preserve a horizontal position of several feet
— ten or twelve — before the downward glide commences ;
but the membrane once expanded, is not apparently
moved in any manner until the animal draws in its feet
to seize hold of the branch it has reached. A movement
of the membrane that gave the squirrel an additional im-
pulse has been asserted of this animal, and the sugges-
tion made that the first steps toward the acquirement of
the flight-power of the bats had been taken. This I will
not deny. It is something for which I have looked for

THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 53

many years, but have never as yet seen any evidence of
it. I am glad that others have been more successful.

"When a flight is about to be taken, the body is drawn
up until nearly globular in shape, and then the membrane
is again expanded simultaneously with the impetus given
to the body by the powerful hind-legs. If " wingless,"
this squirrel would move quite similarly to the jumping-
mouse (Jaculus\ or even the better known white-footed
or deer mouse (Hesperomys).

In a recent publication I find it stated that these
squirrels fly "smoothly and swiftly on an inclined air-
plane for thirty, forty, even fifty yards." This I consider
an exaggeration. It is perhaps within bounds to say that
this animal can sail down an " inclined air-plane " for
thirty yards ; but it is very rarely that they do so, and I
believe this distance is never exceeded. Their ordinary
flights are about five to ten yards in length ; a distance
that the common gray squirrel will clear at a single leap.

It is highly improbable that these squirrels would
tarry long in a locality where the trees were so scattered
as to require longer flights. In fact, it is with flying-
squirrels, as with all creatures possessing some well-
marked peculiarity : the earliest accounts of the peculiar-
ity are exaggerated, and the inherent love of the marvel-
ous in man subsequently prevents for a long time a
correct view of the matter being acquired.

A word more concerning this habit of flying. I have
twice met with individuals of this species that were
apparently partial reversions to the ancestral non-flying
squirrel. The membrane extending from the fore to the
hind limbs, that acts as wings, was scarcely developed,
and the fore limbs were somewhat stouter than in the
normal condition. In their movements, these squirrels
were more like the true Sciuridce, but, being associated

54: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

with their own kind, they tried to keep up with them
and " fly," but the most that they could do was to exe-
cute a very graceful dive. These two non-flying squir-
rels were both adults when captured, but died in a few
days after being caged.

Years of familiar acquaintance with these squirrels
have not enabled me to detect much in their habits in-
dicative of intelligence ; and it is for this principally that
I look in studying animal life. I feel sorry to have so
poor an account to give of these beautiful creatures, but
I am compelled to say it of them — they are not " smart."
Notwithstanding all their vivacity when in their native
haunts, and their eminently gregarious habits, they do
not suggest by any of their movements, so far as I could
ever detect, any decided indication of that sociability
characteristic of the ground-squirrels or chipmunks (Ta-
mias). Each, on the contrary, jumps, runs, flies, solely
on his own account, associated together indeed, but never
acting in concert. Their several squeaky cries, too, are
quite as frequent when they are alone as when associated
with their fellows. Thus, they are really devoid, to me
at least, of the most attractive features of animal life.

Flying-squirrels do not pass into a prolonged hiber-
nating sleep, with the regularity characteristic of some
other mammals. They store up a goodly quantity of
nuts and acorns, which are stowed away in a hollow
of some large tree ; and from this magazine they draw
their rations pretty regularly, unless the weather should
be intensely cold. Even when snow covers the ground
they sometimes leave their nests, for I have often caught
them, in January, in an ordinary box-trap set for rabbits.

Their nests are often in one tree, while their food-
supply is stored in another near by. The nests are al-
ways abundantly supplied with soft materials, and some-

THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 55

times as many as a dozen squirrels will take up their
winter abode in one. When asleep, they appear like
little furry balls, so arranged that the tail is made to do
duty both as a pillow and coverlet ; the head rests near
the base of the tail, which is spread over that side of the
body which happens to be uppermost.

These squirrels have of late availed themselves of
conveniences erected by man, which partially replace the
heavy growths of timber that have so generally been cut
down. They now take up their abode in the attics of
houses, if they can find any means of entrance. Once
established, they drive the mice away, but they are them-
selves so noisy that the change seldom proves desirable.
If the locality does not meet with their approbation, they
not only ramble noisily wherever they can get, but quar-
rel incessantly. In out-buildings, also, I have frequently
found them wintering. If the nest is in hay or straw,
they nibble out a circular shaft or tunnel leading to it,
and carry in an abundant supply of grain, if such can be
had. In this regard, they are but little, if any, less de-
structive than rats or mice.

To return to the woods. Flying-squirrels make very
large nests of leaves high up in the tallest trees, which
are in every particular the same as the leaf-nests of the
common gray squirrel. Some of those that I have ex-
amined appeared to be sufficiently compact to withstand
the winter storms, and were warm enough to protect the
squirrels during the coldest weather. In them, however,
there were no stores of nuts and seeds, so either the
occupants hibernated the winter through and needed no
food, or they had magazines near by, to which they re-
sorted during spells of mild weather.

Flying-squirrels are now, in consequence of the gen-
eral destruction of the heavier growths of timber, not

56 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

numerous, and it is probable that they never were as abun-
dant as the other species of Sciuridce. Even so long ago
as 1749, Kalm refers to them as " met with in the woods,
but not very frequently " ; and again, that they " are so
tamed by the boys that they sit on their shoulders and
follow them everywhere."

Gabriel Thomas refers to these animals, in his quaint
little history of New Jersey, as follows : " There is also
that Remarkable Creature the Flying Squirrel, having
a kind of Skinny "Wings, almost like those of the Batt,
though it hath the like Hair and Colour of the Common
Squirrel, but is much less in Bodily Substance • I have
(myself) seen it fly from one Tree to another in the
Woods, but how long it can maintain its Flight is not
yet exactly known."

The most interesting feature connected with the fly-
ing-squirrels of this neighborhood is, I think, the fact
that they are slowly adapting themselves to an altered
environment, as shown by their constructing nests of
leaves, which probably, a century ago, they did not do ;
and by their willingness, so to speak, to occupy accessible
nooks in the dwelling-houses to which they can gain ac-
cess from tall trees growing sufficiently near to enable
them to reach these artificial quarters by means of their
limited flight-power. I believe these squirrels never
take journeys, however short, by simply running on the
ground. Unless they can pass from tree to tree they
stay at home.

This pretty mammal figures, I find, in American
animal weather-lore, but not to any important extent.
In " Signal-Service Notes," No. IX, the compiler of that
interesting volume writes, "When the flying-squirrels
sing in midwinter, it indicates an early spring." As a
lover of early spring, I heartily wish this were true. Ex-

THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 57

amining the matter more closely, it will be found that
pleasant weather in midwinter, when squirrels rouse from
their prolonged sleeping, is usually followed by late
springs ; a record of the past one hundred winters show-
ing clearly that the more uniformly cold winter is, the
sooner and more evenly spring commences. If, there-
fore, these singing-squirrels could be relied upon, it would
be as bearers of unwelcome news — that spring would be
tardy in arriving. It is scarcely necessary to add that
all such "sayings," so far as based upon the habits of
animals, are, as yet, valueless to the student of meteoro-
logical science.

CHAPTER YIIL

THE CHIPMUNK.

WITH the first sweet blossoms of the Epigcea, and
long before the foremost warbler greets his old-time home
with gleesome songs, our little chipmunk has roused him-
self from his long winter's nap, and sniffing the south
wind, as it whirls the dead leaves about, scampers to and
fro while the sun shines, and dives into his winter quar-
ters, it may be for a whole week, if the north wind
whispers to the tall beech-trees. But, in due time, the
blustering days of March give way to showery April, and
then, with more courage, " Chip " faces the music of the
winds, let them blow as they list, and, darting along the
top rail of our zigzag fences, he chatters and scolds, and
calls to his equally noisy companions. They know full
well that they have the summer before them, and, while
determined to enjoy it, they begin early and in good
earnest to make arrangements for its coming duties. I
watched several pairs of them from March to November,
in 1874, and nearly all of my observations were made
at this time, as other mammals have occupied my atten-
tion since then.

Until the weather became fairly settled and really
spring-like in character, these little chipmunks did not
often show themselves, and when they did it was only
in the middle of the day. They appeared, to foresee the
occurrence of a cold rain some twenty-four hours in ad-

THE CHIPMUNK. 59

vance and resumed their hibernating slumbers, becoming
lethargic and very difficult to arouse. A pair that I dug
out in March, having two days before re-entered their
winter quarters and become quite torpid, were apparently
lifeless when first taken up in the hands, and it was not
until after several hours' warming that they became lively,
and altogether like themselves. This seemed to me the
more curious, in that they can respond to a favorable
change in the weather in a short time, even when the ther-
mometric change is really but a few degrees.

On the 3d of May a pair of chipmunks made their
appearance in the yard of my home, and took up their
abode in a stone wall with a southern outlook, on the
brow of a steep descent of over seventy feet. This hill-
side or terrace-front is thickly wooded, and harbors scores
of these creatures, as well as many other small mammals.
From the fact that the subterranean homes of these ani-
mals are said to be quite elaborate in structure, I deter-
mined to wait until the pair in the yard had completed
their excavations in and under the stone wall, and ar-
ranged their nest, and then to open and expose the nest
and its approaches of another pair, which was more ac-
cessible, and commenced at the same time. This I did
on May 29th, and without difficulty determined the gen-
eral character of the nest and its two entrances. The
burrow contained five young, about three days old. The
two entrances were at the foot of a large beech -tree,
standing about six feet from the brow of the hill. A
little grass only grew about the tree, and the holes at the
surface of the ground were very conspicuous. No at-
tempt at concealment had been made ; but this was evi-
dently because there were here, at this time, but few of
their many enemies. Indeed, I was inclined to believe
that there were no weasels about, and these are the most

60 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

destructive of all their enemies. The little weasel, per-
haps, is less prone to enter their nests than the ermine ;
and it is the former species which is the more frequent
of the two in this immediate neighborhood ; but if the
little weasels chance to take up their abode near by, the
chipmunks soon hie themselves off to " fresh fields and
pastures new." To return to the chipmunk's nest. The
right-hand entrance to the nest proper was nine feet dis-
tant from the opening at the foot of the tree, but, as the
passage had a somewhat tortuous course, the tunnel was
really about twelve feet long. The nest proper was, as
near as I could determine, about twenty inches in length,
and perhaps a foot in height. It was lined with fine
grass. I had hoped to find more than two passages to
the nest, and extra cavities or granaries, but there were
no traces of them. These supplementary burrowings, or
" store-houses," I believe now are made quite late in the
summer, and are additions to their main burrows, made
when it becomes necessary for them to commence storing
up their winter supply of food.

One feature of this earth-nest, and of all under-
ground retreats of our mammals, struck me as very curi-
ous. There was no evidence of any caving of the earth
that I could see, or could I detect any evidence that
means had been taken to prevent such an occurrence.
The soil where I exposed the nest of the chipmunks was
a fine, ferruginous sand that caved in whenever I tried to
construct a similar tunnel. I made such examination of
the surface of the burrow as I could, and found no trace
of any foreign substance that explained the mystery, for
such it was and is to me.

On the 23d of June six young chipmunks made their
appearance about the stone wall in the yard, and to these,
with their parents, I will now confine my attention. It

THE CHIPMUNK. 61

puzzles me even now, when I think of it, to imagine
when this family of eight chatter-boxes took any rest
or kept moderately quiet. Yery frequently during that
summer (very seldom since) I was astir at sunrise, and I
always found that these chipmunks were already on the
go, and throughout July they appeared to do little but
play in a very animated sort of way. They seemed to
be playing at what children know as " tag " — i. e., they
chased each other to and fro in a wild, madcap fashion,
and tried to touch or catch one another, and sometimes
to bite one another's tails. Occasionally the tail of some
laggard gets a nip, and he gives a pitiful squeal, which
starts them all to chattering. The way in which they
scamper along the tapering points of a paling fence is
simply astonishing ; but, however mad may be their gal-
loping, let a hawk swoop down, or even pass over, and
in a moment every one is motionless. If on a fence,
they simply squat where they are, and trust to luck to
escape being seen. If on the ground, when an enemy is
discovered, and not too far from their underground nests,
which is not often the case, unless foraging, they will
dart to these nests with incredible swiftness, and going, I
think, the whole length of the passage-way to the nest
proper, they turn about immediately and retrace their
steps to the entrance, from which they will peer out, and,
when the danger is over, cautiously reappear and recom-
mence their sports. These creatures, during the sum-
mer, play merely for play's sake, and seem to have no
more important object in view than amusement. Indeed,
so far as I have studied animal life, this indulgence in
play, just as children play, and for the same reasons, is
common to all animals. I have often seen most animated
movements on the part of fishes that could, I think, be
only referred to this cause. Frogs, perhaps, in this re-

62 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

spect are the nearest to being old fogies, as I never could
detect anything on their part that the most vivid imagi-
nation could construe into " having fun."

About August 15th these chipmunks, and all the
others in the neighborhood, appeared to settle down to
work in "real earnest." Instead of playful, careless
creatures, living from hand to mouth, they became sober
and seemed very busy. Instead of keeping comparatively
near home, they wandered off quite a distance for them,
and filling both cheek-pouches full of corn, or later in
the . year, with chincapins and acorns, home they would
march, looking, in the face, like children with the
mumps. How much they can carry at one time, in their
cheek-pouches, I know, from actual measurement, but
am afraid to say, as the statement would be " hard to
swallow," and so the inquisitive reader may determine
the matter to his own satisfaction.

This habit of storing up quantities of food against the
coming winter was continued, in this case, and I suppose
it is so generally, until the first heavy white frosts, when
the chipmunks give up to a great degree their out-door
life. The food thus gathered, usually nuts and corn, is,
I believe, partly consumed when they go into winter
quarters, and before they begin their hibernating sleep,
which may not be for some time. This impression is
based on the result of digging out a nest as late as the
3d of November. The last time I had seen a chip-
munk belonging to this nest was October 22d. Twelve
days after, I very carefully closed the three passages that
led to it, and calculating about where the nest was, I dug
down until I came upon it. I found four chipmunks
very cozily fixed for winter, in a roomy compartment,
and all of them thoroughly wide awake. Their store of
provisions was in a smaller room or store-house immedi-

THE CHIPMUNK. 63

ately adjoining, and consisted wholly of chestnuts and
acorns ; and the shells of such of these nuts as had been
eaten were all pushed into one of the passages, so that
there might be no litter mingled with the soft materials
that lined the nest. How long this underground life
lasts, before hibernation really commences, it is difficult
to determine ; but as the torpid state does not continue
until their food-supply is again obtainable out-of-doors,
the chipmunks, no doubt, store away sufficient food for
their needs throughout the early spring.

CHAPTER IX.

WILD-MICE.

I HAVE often felt sore because I could never find a
shrew in any of my rambles. I have knocked over hun-
dreds of mice, in hopes of finding one with a pointed
snout and a slender tail, but all to no purpose. There
are shrews in my meadows, I am confident. Indeed,
others have found them ; but in twenty years' search I
have never seen one. But if not a shrew, I have seen
mice in abundance — mice big and fat; mice lean and
small, and middle-sized mice; mice that were ill-tem-
pered and would bite ; others that were gentle, and took
pleasure in nestling in the hollow of your hand. Some-
times I would fill my pockets with them, or tie up a
dozen in my handkerchief, and then, reaching home,
would let them loose in a box, and sit down gravely to
" determine the species." I would have De Kay's tomes
before me, and Coues's and Allen's bulky quarto on " Ro-
dentia," and Jordan's " Manual," and the mice, and I
would work by the hour, and pinch their tails and squint
at their teeth and twist their toes, but it mattered not, all
my labor and all my specimens simmered down to one
poor meadow-mouse. I have tried to twist their hair
and curl their whiskers, and lengthen their ears by a sly
pull with the tweezers, but it was of no avail — there was
only the one species, and I could not make a second, al-
though I have tried very hard and very often.

WILD-MICE. 65

If, however, there is but the one mouse in our mead-
ows, it is not so devoid of interest as might be thought,
from the fact that it elicits generally no further remark
than that " it is nothing but a meadow-mouse."

Let us see what constitutes a meadow-mouse. As
a furry entity dwelling in a bunch of grass and living
on the seeds thereof, he is monotony itself; but some-
times, as I have found, there is a variation from this pro-
saic style of keeping house, and then the despised mead-
ow-mouse is a creature of decided interest.

For instance, I find in my note-books, under date of
May 23, 1882, that in wandering along the margin of a
low or "mucky" meadow, I came across a large but
thoroughly rotted log. On giving the log a kick and a
push with my cane, I saw that I had disturbed a whole
host of creatures of various kinds. A meadow-mouse
ran into the reeds near by, a swarm of black ants covered
one end of the log, while untold thousands of red ants
covered the other, and finally a white -footed mouse
showed itself through a knot-hole and scampered off
with a squeak. Seeing this much at a preliminary glance
of the rotten log, I forthwith instituted a detailed exami-
nation, with the following results : Between the semi-de-
tached bark and the log itself there was a neatly-made
nest of long grasses occupied by the white-footed mice.
There they resorted when not foraging, and had every-
thing cozily arranged for future contingencies. I was very
sorry that I had so rudely upset their plans, as Mrs.
"White-foot was evidently in an interesting condition. In
the center of the decayed log, a family of meadow-mice
had constructed a very elaborate home. There were
three well-made tunnels leading to an interior chamber,
which was of sufficient size to accommodate a dozen mice
without crowding. This nest or " room " was partly

66 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

filled with fine hay and a few very small feathers. There
were no young mice, however. The three exits were of
sufficient size to admit of the rapid passage of a mouse, say
about one and a half inches in diameter. Although the
wood was very rotten and yielded to the gentlest touch,
yet the sides of these tunnels were beautifully intact and
as smooth as a carefully bored hole in hard wood.
While much interested in the fact that two very distinct
species of mice should occupy quarters in such close prox-
imity— the two nests being less than a foot apart — I was
more struck with the fact that there should be also two
colonies of ants in the same log. One colony of large
black ants, nearly half an inch long, had an extensive se-
ries of tunnels, chambers, and anterooms built in one end
of the log, and in some of the apartments were numbers
of large white larvae. The mice, both meadow and
white-footed, were near at hand, all day and every night,
and notwithstanding the tempting morsels in the shape
of the larvae I have mentioned, the mice did not appear
to have disturbed the ants at all. On the other hand,
the legions of black ants at one end of the log might read-
ily have taken possession of the nests of the mice, yet I
did not see a trace of an ant in either nest. Then, at
the other end of the log, six feet away, were these mi-
nute red ants by millions. These might also have proved
a formidable foe to the mice, yet they, too, seemed will-
ing to remain within bounds, and not a sign of them
was to be found in the nest of either species of mouse.

Some years ago a freshet floated a few half-rotted
logs into a stretch of low, swampy meadow, near my
house, and in these logs colonies of meadow-mice took
up their abodes. They were regularly bored and tun-
neled, just as so much firm earth might have been. In

WILD-MICE. 67

each was a large central chamber or nest, thus showing an
adaptation to circumstances which greatly interested me.

The food-supply in the meadow evidently was abun-
dant, hence these mice remained; but the ground was
too wet to admit of underground retreats, so these half-
rotten logs had been utilized, and proved in every way
adapted to their wants. I could not determine what
constituted the food of these mice, but suppose it to have
been, in part, seeds of the reeds and coarse grasses ; and
it is not improbable, when these were not obtainable, that
they fed upon animal food. My attention was called to
the probability of this, from the fact that at every low
tide many very small fishes were left in little puddles,
and as these nearly dried away before the tide returned,
it was practicable for the mice to have caught these fishes.
Although I have often watched for some evidence of
this, I never saw a mouse go a-fishing; but then this
proves nothing, for these meadow-mice are far more
active by night than by day, and when I was away they
could readily have caught an abundance of these fishes.

Unless the weather is extremely cold, the meadow-
mice do not hibernate. They simply prepare for cold
snaps by making roomy subterranean chambers, and line
them with fine grasses. From these they sally forth at
midday, if there is any sunshine, and find plenty of food
in the seeds of the rank grass-growths that surround their
chosen haunts. The food that they store for winter use
is inconsiderable, and probably is consumed soon after it
is placed in the magazines. Of course, I am speaking
only of the mice as I have observed them in the neigh-
boring meadows.

Of our few remaining mammals, perhaps none have
suffered less from the encroachment of man than the

68 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

beautiful white-footed mouse. The fact that this little
creature is a mouse, and you can not make anything else
out of it, is certainly very much to its disadvantage.
Could we but call it by some other name, many would
feel that interest in it which it really deserves. Being
a mouse it is passed by all unheeded, or else cruelly pur-
sued with all the alacrity that the good housewife displays
in chasing down a too daring Mus musculus.

White-footed mice are nocturnal in their habits, but,
like all the night-loving mammals, they are frequently
astir during the day, and do not seem to be greatly in-
convenienced by the glare of the midday sun.

In my neighborhood these mice are very abundant,
and I have taken especial care to watch for them, and
study their ways whenever I could, but in spite of all my
efforts I never could detect any peculiarly interesting
feature in their habits, or catch a glimpse of something
I had not anticipated. Our knowledge of the habits of
most of our mammals is still incomplete. Something
novel may at any time be expected ; but, lively and musi-
cal as is the white-footed mouse, it differs but little from
the prosiest mouse in your cupboard, so far as its habits
are concerned.

Nevertheless, their manner is attractive, and reminds
one of a flying-squirrel, perhaps, more than anything
nearer akin to it. "When the nest is built in a tangled
thicket of briers, as is sometimes the case, or the animal
has chanced to occupy an old bird's nest, little white-foot
clambers about these briers with astonishing ease. How
it escapes the thorns, I can not imagine. Having found
a nest, an excellent method of making them display their
scansorial ability is to quietly place a dead snake near
by, and then give the mice a shaking up. The moment
they spy that snake, they leave for parts unknown with

WILD-MICE. 69

such alacrity that even the direction they take can not
always be satisfactorily ascertained. Leaving the dead
snake, however, does not prevent their return, for soon
they will come creeping cautiously along the briers, as
slowly as possible, and evidently reconnoitring. If they
are satisfied that the snake is motionless, they will creep
very near, thus braving a great deal, especially if their
nest contains young. Perhaps half an hour may pass,
but they gradually determine that the snake is dead, and
then they slip cautiously back to their nest. If the snake
is left, their fear wholly vanishes by the next day ; and
the chances are, if you revisit the nest, you will see them
dining off the reptile.

In autumn, white-footed mice store up nearly as great
a bulk of nuts and grain as the chipmunk, and build cozy
nests near these magazines. Usually there is an under-
ground passage connecting the two, unless the nest is
under a log or stump. During winter these mice take
very protracted naps ; but they are supposed not to hiber-
nate. Now the distinction between sleeping, often over
a period of four weeks, without once awaking, and true
hibernation, is one that I fail to comprehend. Notwith-
standing the very extensive magazines filled with choice
food, gathered by these mice, they do not make any
marked inroad upon them during the winter, and so, if
much of the time awake, they must have but very poor
appetites. Time and again I have opened their granaries
in February and March, and found them nearly or quite
undisturbed. Perhaps they had other stores of food,
which had been opened during the winter, but I think
not; and I know very well that these mice are nearly
twice as heavy in May as in March, when "they are poor
as snakes."

If the weather be warm, about April 1st they are fully

70 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

themselves again, and ready to commence their round of
summer life with all the responsibilities that "house-
keeping " entails ; and then it is, after a long season of
comparative fasting, when the supply is scarcest, that
they have need of food, .and, in order to recruit' their
energies, I have found that this mouse has decided car-
nivorous habits. While by no means as bloody as a
weasel, or fierce as a brown rat, it nevertheless does not
hesitate to attack a weaker brother, and it is really a
skillful hunter of birds' nests, the contents of which,
whether eggs or young, it feasts upon with great relish.
Several times I have known them to rob the nests of
robins, song-sparrows, and the chewink or swamp-robin.
In one instance, a brood of young robins, nearly old
enough to leave the nest, were attacked by a pair of these
mice, during the brief absence of the parent birds, and
two of them were killed. Carefully keeping watch, I
found that as soon as the old birds retired from the nest,
to answer the calls of two of the young birds which were
on the ground, the mice stole back to the nest and began
eating the young birds they had killed. As soon as dis-
covered by the parent birds, they were forced to beat a
retreat, but they invariably returned when the oppor-
tunity offered, until the dead birds were nearly devoured.
Another and much rarer species of mouse, the pretty
kangaroo or jumping-mouse, merits our attention ; and
I only regret my opportunities for observing it have been
so few and unsatisfactory. This little mammal — not a
true mouse, by-the-way — is not unlike the preceding in
its habits, though he is easily distinguished by the won-
derful leaps he takes when pursued. From the few ob-
servations I have been able to make, this jactatorial
locomotion is not its ordinary method of traveling. Al-
though its fore-limbs are so short, it scrambles over the

WILD-MICE. 71

ground with as much ease and rapidity as other mice.
If pursued, however, and extra speed is required, then
its whole manner is changed, and it seems quite like an-
other animal. It takes enormous leaps, one after another,
with great rapidity, and, when the conditions are favor-
able, it distances most of its pursuers. Remarkable as
are the leaps made by this mouse, I have never seen them
clear " five or six feet at every spring," as described by
Godman. Without the means of determining this point,
I should judge that one half that distance was more
nearly correct. Here, perhaps, it is legitimate to ask the
question, Has their jumping power at all decreased ? It
is not unreasonable to suppose that such should be the
case, if the habit of jumping arose from the necessity of
eluding certain enemies which do not now exist in as
great numbers as formerly. Certainly, at present, in this
neighborhood, these mice have no more enemies than
the white-footed or the meadow mice, nor are they ap-
parently any more secure from the attacks of these ene-
mies, because they can jump a little faster than the others
can run.

Godman remarks of this animal : "At the commence-
ment of cool weather, or about the time the frost sets in,
the jumping-mice go into their winter-quarters, where
they remain in a torpid state until the last of May or 1st
of June. They are dug up sometimes during winter
from a depth of twenty inches, being curiously disposed
in a ball of clay about an inch thick, and so completely
coiled into a globular form as to conceal the figure of the
animal entirely." My own observations have not been
in accordance with the above, so far as the "ball of
clay " is concerned. Such as I have found had well-built
nests of fine grass and bits of hornets' nests, placed in a

72 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

roomy underground chamber, usually so situated as not
to be exposed to excessive dampness.

Its hibernation is certainly much more profound than
that of the white-footed mouse, which voluntarily rouses
from its winter slumbers; furthermore, the jumping-
mouse does not hoard grain, as does the latter.

CHAPTER X.

MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS AS WEATHER-PROPHETS.

THE musk-rat is too well known to require any par-
ticular account of its daily habits ; although there is al-
ways something to be learned about any and all animals.

Having successfully withstood the encroachments of
man, and indeed having often been benefited by its abil-
ity to utilize the constructions of man, such as the banks
of canals and ditches, the musk-rat is now about as abun-
dant as ever, and thrives in spite of constant persecution,
not alone in retired situations, but often within the very
limits of our cities.

As to their numbers now, when compared with a
century ago, there is probably some slight decrease, but
it is not much. Kami (174:9) says, " The Swedes asserted
that they could never observe a diminution in their num-
ber, but believed that they were as numerous at present
as formerly." They were hunted then quite as persist-
ently as at present ; and possibly even more so, as their
fur was more in demand.

But well and accurately known as the musk-rat is to
many, there is still a very prevalent misconception in the
minds of people generally with reference to certain of its
habits, and particularly to those referring to its winter life.
In calling attention, then, to its winter haunts and habits,
there will occur a fitting opportunity of correcting certain
distorted facts and curious fancies, not only about this
4

T4 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

animal, but also in relation to the great majority of our
mammals.

Besides the extensive burrows in which, during the
greater part of the year, the musk-rats live, they often
erect, in autumn, quite elaborate structures, in swampy
ground, or occasionally in shallow and quiet waters, when
they can find safe anchorage, as for instance to a stump.
These winter-houses, as they are usually called, are coni-
cal in shape, and generally about three feet in diameter,
at the base, and two or three feet in height. The mate-
rials used in their construction are long, coarse grass, bul-
rushes, twigs, and some of the larger limbs of shrubs. I
have never discovered any evidence that, beaver-like,
they gnaw off saplings of water-birch for the purpose of
using them in house-building, but that they do so, at
times, has been asserted by many. The materials gath-
ered are closely cemented with stiff, clayey mud, which
the musk-rats procure from the beds of streams, often
burrowing beneath the sandy superstratum to secure it
of the proper consistency. "When sun-dried, these struct-
ures are very strong and will bear the weight of a full-
grown man. The walls are generally about six inches in
thickness, and are very difficult to pull to pieces. The
interior consists of a single circular chamber, with a floor
that is ingeniously supported on coarse sticks driven into
the mud, after the manner of piles, and among them are
laid horizontally many others, thus making a strong but
open foundation, upon which are placed small twigs, stiff
mud, and over all a layer of soft grasses. This interior
is arranged after the dome is completed. In the center
of the floor is an opening, leading by several, often six
or eight, diverging paths, below the water-level, and
extending to the nearest higher or comparatively drier
ground. Through these the musk-rats make their escape,

MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS. 75

if the home be disturbed ; and it is only by first discover-
ing these paths and blocking them, or by closing the one
exit at the base of the house from which the paths start,
that it becomes possible to secure all the occupants of
one of these winter nests or homes. While the exterior
of these structures is quite irregular and apparently rudely
or carelessly put together, it is evident that this exterior
is designedly arranged in this manner to make the home
appear like a stranded bunch of trash, transported thither
during some sudden rise and overflow of the stream, or
some filling up of the swamp, as the case may be. The
interior, however, of these structures is usually neatly
furnished and smoothed, and with its lining of soft ma-
terials, the entire structure bears no little resemblance to
an enormous bird's nest turned upside down.

Even more than in the case of birds' nests, however,
there is a great deal of variation among these structures,
and the above description of a typical nest is taken from
my notes of two such structures which were carefully ex-
amined in the winter of 1880-'81. I have in this descrip-
tion made use of the best features of the two nests or
homes, and given a fair idea of what the structure is, when
every condition is such as the musk-rat desires. Like
birds, however, they have usually some objectionable fea-
ture to contend with, and hence they never erect pre-
cisely such a home as they are capable of constructing.

Now these nests are not built every year, by any means.
In the same locality, near my home, where a colony of
musk-rats have good quarters and a comparatively easy
time, these animals one year content themselves simply
with their burrows in the higher ground that bounds the
wet or " mucky " meadow ; and the next year they erect
one or more of these dome-shaped houses. I had long no-
ticed this irregularity, and having mentioned it at various

76 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

times to trappers and the "old folks" of the neighborhood,
was in every instance assured that, when no such houses
were built in the fall, the winter would be very "open"
or mild, and vice versa. In other words, the power of fore-
telling the character of the coming winter was ascribed
to the musk-rat by these trappers and old folks generally,
who are popularly supposed to have gained much accu-
rate knowledge from long observation. " Nature," indeed,
"is an admirable school-mistress," but careless scholars
do not do her justice. I was the more surprised at this,
too, because I have found that these same people can
generally give us more accurate details of the habits of
our animals than, are found in the books.

Having my doubts as to the truth of this, as well as
other "common impressions," I have for many years
tested the matter, and noted down in what years houses
were built in the same localities, and when none were
erected. The result was about as I expected. In the
majority of instances it proved to be precisely the reverse
of what I had been told. As an example of this, take
the two winters, 18T9-'80 and 1880-'81. The former
was very mild and spring-like, and numerous large houses
were built ; during the succeeding autumn, in the same
locality, none were erected ; and the character of the
winter was precisely the opposite of the preceding one.
Now, the musk-rats were here all winter, just the same,
but they lived in their subterranean homes. The records
of the past twenty years, in fact, clearly show that the
" common impression " should be reversed, if it be true
that there is a ghost of a connection between the custom
of erecting these conical houses in autumn and the char-
acter of the coming winter.

"Why these winter-dwellings are not always erected, is
not easy to determine ; nor do plausible explanations sug-

MUSK-EATS AND SQUIRRELS. 77

gest themselves. That it is in some way connected with
their food-supply in winter is probable, and there may
be some connection between the habits and the general
condition of the springs and the abundance of surface
water. I have thought that when the springs were "up"
and the swamps full, in autumn, these houses were more
likely to be built, and vice versa; but I have noticed
several exceptions, and do not feel assured that I am right
in my surmise. At all events, there is no reasonable
ground whatever upon which to base the assumption that
musk-rats can foretell meteorological changes, beyond such
as may occur within twenty-four or thirty-six hours. Far
be it from me to deprive any of our mammals of all due
credit ! On the contrary, my whole sympathy is with
that view of their origin and of man's that gives the same
powers, but in different degrees, to them and myself ; but
there is as yet nothing discovered in the life of a musk-rat
that even vaguely hints at the possibility of a prophetic
power beyond the capabilities of any ordinary weather-
witch.

Let us now consider, in this connection, the habit of
many mammals of storing away quantities of food for
winter use. As the musk-rat does not hibernate, and is
not affected in its movements by the severity of winter
weather, it requires no such magazines of supplies, and
consequently has none. The winter-houses it erects have
a bearing, I doubt not, upon the food-supply, which is
probably more accessible from these structures than from
their ordinary burrows. On the other hand, many mam-
mals have but one class of retreat, summer and winter,
and these gather in autumn, for winter use, enormous
quantities of nuts and seeds, which are their sole depend-
ence. Now, the same question arises here as in the case
of the musk-rat: Have these "harvesting" animals any

78 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

means or power of foretelling the character of a coming
winter; and do they differ in the habit of storing up
food, to an extent commensurate with the great varia-
bility of the winters ? For if a winter is steadily cold and
prolonged, as was that of 1880— '81, the time passed in
slumber will be equally extended, and a much less quan-
tity of food will be consumed. If, however, the weather
is as mild as the winter of 18T9-'80, then these animals
will be quite active much of the time, and of course con-
sume a larger amount of food. This was the case in the
winter last mentioned with both the gray squirrels and
the chipmunks, and I venture to state that there was no
more food stored the preceding autumn than in the fall
of 1880, when winter set in about November 25th. It is
also probable that no food whatever was consumed during
the three winter months that followed, yet I am assured
that the amount of food stored by these animals does vary,
and that when much is stored, the winter will be severe,
and vice versa. This shows not only great ignorance of
the habits of common animals, but the illogical position
of those that so confidently make the assertion is evident
from the fact that if the weather is mild and the animals
awake, then the greater supply of food is, of course, re-
quired ; for it must be remembered that the amount of
foraging in mild weather is so little that it does not be-
come an important factor in this question.

The habit, per se, of storing food for winter use is
beyond dispute, and it now behooves us to consider the
variability of this practice and to seek the explanation of
the fact that more food is stored some winters than others.
It can scarcely be ascertained when and how the habit of
storing food for winter use was acquired. Doubtless it
dates back as far as the glacial period, but this does not
concern us. What of the habit as it exists to-dav ?

MUSK-RATS AND SQUIRRELS. 79

First, let us glance at the subject of our climate as it is,
and as it was some two centuries ago. Kalm says that,
" desirous of hearing from the old Swedes, who have lived
longest in this country, and have been inhabitants of this
place " (Raccoon, in Swedesboro, Southern New Jersey)
" during the whole time of the change mentioned, whether
the present state of the weather was in some particulars
remarkably different from that which they felt in their
younger years, the following is an account which they
all unanimously gave me in answer to this question :

" The winter came sooner formerly than it does now
(1749). Mr. Isaac Morris, a wealthy merchant, . . . con-
firmed this by a particular account. His father, one of
the first English merchants in this country, observed
that in his younger years (about 1690), the river Delaware
was commonly covered with ice about the middle of No-
vember, old style, so that the merchants were obliged to
bring down their ships in great haste, before that time,
for fear of their being obliged to lie by all winter. On
the contrary, this river seldom freezes over at present be-
fore the middle of December, old style.

" It snowed much more in winter, formerly, than it
now does (1749) ; but the weather in general was likewise
more constant and uniform, and when the cold set in it
continued to the end of February or till March, old style,
when it commonly began to grow warm. At present it
is warm, even the very next day after a severe cold,
and sometimes the weather changes several times a
day.

" Most of the old people here were of opinion that
spring came much later at present than formerly, and that
it was now much colder in the latter end of February,
and the whole month of March, than when they were
young. Formerly the fields were as green and the air as

80 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

warm toward the end of February, as it is now in March,
or in the beginning of April"

It can scarcely be said that any change has taken place
during the one hundred and thirty years since the above
was written, except that the snow-fall has much decreased.
This has not arisen from a warmer temperature, and a
consequent change to rain-fall instead of snow, but is an
absolute decrease in precipitation. There is certainly con-
siderable evidence to show that this corner of the world is
slowly drying up, even if the globe, as a whole, is not.

Let us now turn to what the same writer says of the
gray squirrels. He writes : " The squirrels gather great
stores for winter, which they lay up in holes dug by them
for that purpose ; they likewise carry a great quantity of
them into their nests.

" As soon as winter comes, the snow and cold confine
them to their holes for several days, especially when the
weather is very rough. During this time they consume
the little store which they have brought to their nests ;
as soon, therefore, as the weather grows milder, they creep
out, and dig out part of the store which they have laid up
in the ground ; of this they eat some on the spot and
carry the rest into their nests on the trees. We fre-
quently observed that in winter, at the eve of a great
frost, when there had been some temperate weather, the
squirrels, a day or two before the frost, ran about the
woods in greater numbers than common, partly in order
to eat their fill, and partly to store their nests with a new
provision for the ensuing great cold, during which they
did not venture to come out, but lay snug in their nests $
therefore, seeing them run in the woods in greater num-
bers than ordinary, was a safe prognostic of an ensuing
cold."

Here we have plainly attributed to the gray squirrel a

MUSK-RATS AND SQUIRRELS. 81

weather- foretelling power, which certainly is not exhib-
ited by these animals at present ; and, more strangely,
Kalm does not suppose them ever to become torpid in
winter, which they now unquestionably do. Finally, the
underground storehouses of gray squirrels are but seldom
made in this neighborhood, though enormous quantities
of nuts are stored in the tree in which their nest is, or in
one very near it. This, at least, is the rule within the range
of my own observations. In the extracts from Kalm's
volumes, we have intimations, at least, of a slight change
in the habit of storing food, and apparently a great change
in the fact that these animals now hibernate to a variable
extent, though formerly they do not appear ever to have
become torpid. If this be true of squirrels one hundred
and more years ago, why should the habit of hibernating
have been acquired, when the climate was gradually be-
coming more mild, as it surely is ? Has hibernation taken
the place of storing food ? Has less food, of late years,
been stored, and forced semi-starvation brought about the
hibernating habit? From my own observations, made
during the past twenty years, I do not find that the bulk
of nuts, seeds, and corn stored by harvesting animals
varies to any important extent — certainly not, so far as
gray squirrels and chipmunks are concerned. I found
just as many storehouses of the chipmunks in the open
winter of 1879-'80 as in the "Arctic" one of 1880-'81 ;
and yet the amount consumed the former year was prob-
ably one half of that gathered ; while in the latter the
amount consumed was almost nothing. At the time
of this writing (April, 1881), the magazines of the gray
squirrels are well stored, simply because these supposed
non-hibernating animals did not eat a nut apiece from
early in December until late in February. If ever there
were two consecutive winters which tested the question of

82 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

*

the variation in the amount of food gathered, and its bear-
ing upon the coming season, it was the two winters I have
mentioned ; and I could find no evidence, in anything
that the squirrels actually did, that had any bearing what-
ever on the character of the season, or hinted at the pos-
session of a power to foretell the weather. Certainly the
experience of these two winters contradicted the general
impression as to any essential variation in the " harvest-
ing customs " of these animals, in accordance with the
" openness " or severity of the season.

We are now brought to the consideration of another
phase of this subject, which is of much interest. It is
well known that the yield of nuts of all kinds varies to a
considerable extent, and we can readily imagine a case
where, there being an abundance of gray squirrels and a
" short crop" of nuts, the supply stored away for winter
was less than usual ; or if, from, any untoward accident, a
family of squirrels were deprived of a large portion of
the supply they had gathered — what, under these circum-
stances, will be the result ? Of course, if the weather is
very mild, the squirrels will resist the tendency to keep
" in-doors," and will sally forth in search of stray acorns ;
or if, the ground being covered with snow, these are in-
accessible, they will feed on leaf -buds of the trees ; but
if the weather is too severe for out-of-door work, then
can they voluntarily pass into a lethargic state, and thus
eke out their small store ? I am disposed, both from ob-
servation and experiments, to believe that they can. Un-
like some mammals, these gray squirrels can withstand a
great degree of cold, and their sleep, when deprived of
food in cold weather, is to all appearances true hiberna-
tion, and often extends over a period of three weeks.
Rousing from their nap, they will eat greedily if food
is accessible ; but if not, the sleep will be resumed. This,

MUSK-RATS AND SQUIRRELS. 83

in winter ; but in summer the same experiment results
inevitably in starvation.

This evidence of optional hibernation is, I consider, far
more wonderful than any power to foretell the character
of a coming season, which, in the case of the musk-rat, or
of the squirrel — judging the one by the houses it erects,
and the other by the food it stores away — is a faculty
that I do not believe they possess.

CHAPTER XL

DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAT

AMONG the few mammals that have successfully with-
stood the encroachments of man upon their haunts, no
one is more interesting to me, in its habits generally, than
the well-known opossum. The earliest notice I find of
these animals is by Gabriel Thomas, who, in his sketch
of Pennsylvania and West New Jersey, published in 1698,
refers to " that strange Creature, the Possum, she having
a Belly to swallow her Young ones, by which means she
preserveth them from danger, when anything comes to
disturb them." On the other hand, Kalm appears to have
overlooked them, making no further reference to the
animal than to remark that " the opossum, like the otter,
can be tamed so as to follow people like a dog " — a state-
ment that scarcely holds good of the opossums about here
to-day !

These animals, it has always appeared to me, are de-
void of cunning, even in choosing their nesting and rest-
ing places, and it has always been a mystery to me how
they have managed for so many years to escape extermi-
nation. Yet, stupid as they unquestionably are, they are
still abundant, even in the immediate vicinity of large
towns. Being of a low type of mammals, and characteristic
of an early geological epoch, are we to infer that their want
of cunning arises from this fact ? If so, it seems strange
that, through the inherited experiences of an immensely

DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY '" 'POSSUM"? 85

extended ancestry, they have not acquired some small
degree of intelligence; but this they do not appear to
have done. They pass their days in a happy-go-lucky
manner, and, if they reach old age, it is through good
luck more than good management.

The habits of the opossum may be thus summed up :
Choosing a hollow tree, one in which a whole family can
live, or a hole in a hill-side, wThich they do not alter and
seldom dig for themselves, they sleep much of their
time ; and when they occasionally wander about for food
it is generally at night, especially if it be moonlight,
though sometimes they go in broad daylight. They ap-
pear to have no marked predilection for any one kind of
food, and exercise no ingenuity in procuring it, being as
apt to seize a chicken if it comes in the way, during the
day, as to stealthily attack a hen-roost after sundown.
One peculiarity, indeed, I have twice witnessed. This
was the tearing apart of a very soft, decayed log, and the
capture of a nest of large black ants. In a bungling way
they imitated the ant-eaters, and licked up with the tongue
the ants and their larvae, but they seemed to swallow
more rotten wood than insects. If so, the wood, I im-
agine, would make a very unpalatable if not an indigest-
ible meal.

Unlike our other mammals, the opossums have no spe-
cial fear of man, and make no effort to avoid him. Dur-
ing autumn, especially, they wander about by day in the
most unconcerned manner. Frequently I have met them
in narrow wood-paths, with a safe cover on either side,
but, instead of beating a retreat, they have stopped to see
if I would get out of their way. Of dogs they have
some fear, however, and will shuffle off if they see or
hear one ; but even then they frequently only climb a
short distance up a tree, and remain in full view.

86 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Unlike every other mammal in New Jersey, the opos-
sum appears to be nearly or quite voiceless. I do not say
that they have no squeak or louder cries, but time and
again I have endeavored to force them to utter some
sound, but always in vain. Even in early spring, when
several males were together and disputing, by actions,
over the unconcerned females near by, they appeared to
be quite dumb. Many times my opportunities have been
most favorable for detecting any sound that they might
make, but I have heard nothing. When captured there
may sometimes be noticed a faint hissing sound, but I do
not think it is voluntarily produced.

Reference has already been made to the peculiarity
in the anatomical structure of this animal which dis-
tinguishes it from all other North American mammals.
Earnest as have been the efforts of many observers to
learn the details of the breeding-habits of the opossum,
there yet remain some points of interest to be deter-
mined.

In a communication to the Essex Institute of Salem,
Massachusetts (Yol. Ill, p. 288), Mr. Shute gives the fol-
lowing as his own observations, made at Beaufort, North
Carolina :

"The date of the birth was March 16, 1863. Dur-
ing the delivery of the young the parent lay on the right
side, with the body curved in such a manner as to bring
the sexual organs opposite that of the pouch ; the mouth
of the pouch was open and drawn down by contraction
of the muscles so as to receive the young when delivered.
The young were seven in number. The time occupied
in delivery was about four hours. The parent remained
in the same position about thirty-six hours, and refused
all sustenance.

" Immediately after the transfer of the young to the

DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAY '"POSSUM"? 87

pouch, I removed one, by detaching it from the teat, in
order to ascertain if the movement of the foetus was in-
stinctive. I found that it was at least partly voluntary,
as it made an effort to regain its place in the pouch, and
the same movement was made by the parent, as at first, to
receive it. I did not notice any use of the lirnbs or lips
of the parent during the transfer of the young."

A few words in conclusion, concerning the supposed
peculiarity of the opossum in feigning death when cap-
tured.

As the result of the systematic and rational study of
animals has been to realize that animal and vegetable life
is but an uninterrupted series of forms, from the lowest
to the highest and most complex organisms, there has
been a tendency to see, in the phenomena exhibited by
lower organisms, merely a modified condition of that
which man, the highest organism, habitually exhibits un-
der like circumstances. While admitting that man has
no power, or gift, so called, not directly derived from the
lower forms of animal life, may it not be that, in observ-
ing the habits of such lower forms as come under our
notice, we are sometimes misled by making personal
comparisons ? and what a man might do, or probably or
undoubtedly would do, under given circumstances, is not
what the observed lower form of animal is doing, in spite
of appearances to the contrary. I have been led to this
conclusion by the patient and cautious study of the habits
of the opossum as it is now found in the immediate
vicinity of thickly-settled districts, where but little cover
is afforded, and where its limited ingenuity is wholly re-
quired to make good use of that which remains.

"While the habits of all the mammals still found in
settled and cultivated districts, unless it be the mice and
moles, are doubtless more or less modified by the extra

88 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

exertion required of them in contending against the
almost constant presence of their two greatest enemies,
man and the dog, thus increasing their ingenuity, it can
never be determined how far the raccoons, otters, and
minks of to-day are in advance, either in intelligence or
cunning, of those of some few centuries ago. I presume
that the struggle for existence being more desperate, they
are more cunning — we know they are more wary— and
that they have had transmitted to them the experience of
hundreds of generations. This is readily seen in the case
of many birds, notably the common crow, and why not,
therefore, with a higher organism ? In the case of the
stupid opossum, this question is scarcely applicable, as that
animal is a link connecting the present with the past, and
therefore not to be judged under the laws governing the
present. Further, the low intelligence of the opossum
seems rather to favor the view I shall express concerning
the peculiar habit that has rendered the animal quite
famous.

"Whenever the opossum is captured, it is popularly
supposed to feign death, or to "play 'possum," as it is
usually called. Now, does this really occur ? Does the
opossum ever deliberately make the effort to deceive its
captors by assuming such a position, and suppressing its
breath to such an extent as to appear dead ? If such be
the case, it is well to look beyond the mere fact of thus
feigning death, and see what such an act, if voluntary,
really indicates :

1. The object being to render itself useless or unat-
tractive to its captors, the opossum must be credited with
supposing that, if it can appear to be dead, it will be use-
less to its captors. Now, what is there in opossum-life
that could give rise to such an impression ? Could the
experience of past generations, exposed as they were to

DOES THE OPOSSUM PLAT "'POSSUM"? 89

the enemies characteristic of the different environment
of that time, do so ? Here it may be added that the
results of this supposed feigning are never such as to
warrant the animal in so doing.

2. The assertion that the opossum feigns death neces-
sarily assumes that the animal in question realizes what
death is. While it may be admitted that, being a semi-
carnivorous mammal, it must know what the death of its
prey means, does any animal realize that that is its own
inevitable fate ? When badly wounded, or worn out
with age, an animal " crawls away to die/' but is it not
as probable that, in seeking a retired spot, it does so
with hopes of recovery, rather than with a feeling of res-
ignation at its approaching dissolution ? I must confess,
however, that the well-known fact that scorpions can be
induced to commit suicide, appears to effectually set aside
my belief ; unless, indeed, this act on the part of scorpions
may have some other than a suicidal explanation. Still,
I am disposed to believe that the pleasant knowledge of
approaching death and its certainty is confined to man.
If so, then in fancying that we see death feigned on the
part of the opossum, we ascribe to it a process of reason-
ing which is fallacious, and would, if persisted in, have
resulted in the extermination of the species ; while as a
fact we find that it has, on the contrary, been able to
withstand the encroachments of farming .operations, and
the destruction of timber about its haunts, which have
driven off some of the smaller and all of the larger mam-
mals. If this is the habit of the opossum, it must neces-
sarily have originated long prior to the advent of man
upon the earth, and been acquired as a safeguard against
the attacks of enemies not now existing, which would
not molest it if they supposed it to be dead. At present,
this supposed habit is not a protection against the attacks

90 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of dogs, its only enemy here except man, and yet after
an ineffectual resistance the same act is gone through
with when attacked by dogs as when captured by man.
It is a habit that militates against its safety, and could
never have been acquired in its present environment.
Speed, if exercised, would in many cases insure safety, and
the opossum can run when it chooses to make the effort.
That the supposed habit of feigning death was acquired
as a safeguard against pursuit by man solely, is absurd,
inasmuch as in this case it does not conduce to the safety
of the animal ; and to assert that any habit was acquired
solely as a means of guarding against the persecutions of
man, is to ascribe a very high grade of intelligence to
the most stupid living mammal. Whatever the origin of
the habit, if such it is, it can not be logically regarded as
voluntary. The brain of the opossum is too primitive to
have evolved this degree of cunning, forethought, and
contrivance.

In order to test this supposed habit, I have sought out
their hiding-places, in numberless instances, and endeav-
ored to make them " show off " in this manner. In one
case, a large male opossum was captured in an ordinary
box-trap, set for rabbits. On lifting the lid of the
trap, the animal was found to be curled up into a
form as nearly globular as it was possible to assume.
Being disturbed, it slowly raised its head, opened its
mouth wide, but did not offer to bite, and in this posi-
tion it quietly awaited coming events. After some five
minutes of mutual staring, the opossum closed its mouth
and slowly restored its head to a more easy position,
and even closed one eye, as though the other was all
that was necessary to note what might occur. On be-
ing roughly handled and given several pushes with a
stick, it again opened wide its mouth and protested

DOES THE OPUSSUM PLAY " 'POSSUM " f 91

against disturbance by a low, hissing sound, but did not
uncoil its body.

If the animal, at this time, realized that it was a pris-
oner, it certainly did not fear death, for it made no effort
to escape, which the fear of death would cause it to do,
since it was in no way disabled. After waiting an hour,
and seeing no sign of feigning unconsciousness, but,
instead of it, a most provoking indifference, I walked off
some distance to a point where I could see the trap, but
was myself hidden from the opossum. Fully ten minutes
elapsed before I saw any movement on the part of the
animal, and then it was a very gradual uncoiling of the
body, a protracted yawn, a stretching of the limbs, and
then standing up, he looked about and very deliberately
walked off. I ran toward him, when he quickened his
pace, but was soon overtaken. On seizing him by the
tail, he crouched down, partially coiled his body, and
spread his jaws to the utmost. When I threatened vio-
lent blows about his head (although careful not to strike
him), the animal's head slowly sank down, and the eyes
closed, but this was not a feigned act. The breathing was
affected but not suppressed, the surface temperature of
the body was lowered, I judged, and it was, as I believe, a
faint, and not a feint ; a temporary paralysis of the whole
body through fear, and for the time being absolute un-
consciousness. Furthermore, as in fainting, the applica-
tion of cold water had the effect of restoring the animal
to consciousness. I have made scores of experiments of
this kind, in some instances actually striking them, when
the fainting through fear was more sudden ; and in no
experiment have I seen anything to suggest intentional
feigning of death.

The late Dr. Lincecum, in a sketch of the habits of
the opossum, as observed by him in the Southern States

92 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

(" American Naturalist," Vol. YI, p. 555), speaks of their
being attacked by turkey - buzzards, and "going into
spasms," during which the buzzards pick out their eyes
and otherwise wound them. This being the ordinary re-
sult of a " make-believe," would even as foolish a creature
as the opossum long continue it ? Again, Dr. Lincecum
speaks of " kicking over " an opossum, which " immedi-
ately went into a spasm." This is a very different matter
from feigning unconsciousness.

As to the position usually assumed when the opossum
is supposed to be feigning death, it is that which the ani-
mal assumes when sleeping ; and, further, is the one best
calculated to prevent injury from blows, as the head and
breast are partly protected.

As this animal is superlatively lazy and positively
timid, and by no means intelligent, when compared with
the mink or raccoon, I believe this supposed habit of
feigning death is attributable to fear and not cunning ;
and certainly it is a merciful provision that thus destroys,
without pain, all sensation in animals about to be torn to
pieces.

CHAPTEE XII.

OUR BIRDS IN GENERAL.

THE Duke of Argyll lately illustrated most forcibly
the truth of the saying that " a little learning is a dan-
gerous thing," when he wrote disparagingly of the vocal
powers of American birds. Had he been with me one
spring-like April morning of the past year and heard the
"burst of song," lasting from sunrise until high noon,
to which I listened, his want of appreciation of our birds
would have been changed, I doubt not, to enthusiastic
admiration.

For several days the birds had been arriving, one or
more kinds at a time, but it was not until the 29th of
the month that the summer birds had arrived in full
force. The brown and the wood thrush, the cat-bird, the
bobolink, and the two species of oriole, the three wrens,
and a host of other merry warblers were here on that
day, each in full song, and congregating" in their several
haunts they united in giving a ringing welcome to the
coming summer. "What with the added voices of our
winter birds, the lark, the sparrows, and the gay cardinal,
there was nothing wanting in the songs they sang — no
check to the melody of their choral greeting. Amid the
bright surroundings of the young leaves, through which
the trembling sunbeams danced in glee, these feathered
choristers charmed alike the eye and ear, and I listened

94 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

for hours to tlie glad refrain, which even jet lingers in
my ears.

i But we have other birds besides those that sing, and
no lack of them. To realize how numerous they are,
and how varied in every bird feature, it is only necessary
to take a quiet country ramble — not along the dusty
highways, for there you will only see the alien sparrows
— but in the woods and through the swamps, over the
meadows and along the river-banks. Do this, and the
wealth of bird-life here will be duly appreciated, and
not otherwise. The truth is, our hawks are as brave and
our crows as saucy as any that can be found ; our quails,
too, are as gamy, our herons as stately, our ducks as shy,
and our divers as impudent, as those of other continents ;
and, best of all, there is an abundance of them.

It is not my purpose, however, to maintain the supe-
rior excellences of our many song-birds, or uphold the
merits of those whose virtues are other than vocal. Those
who know our birds best, know well their capabilities ;
and it may be thought a mere repetition of what has been
often said before, to mention again either their songs or
their general habits. Nevertheless, I am led to do so for
the reason that I do not believe that the whole history
of any bird will ever be known ; and because I am con-
vinced that the nearest approach to it will be in the
sum of the results obtained by different observers, living
in widely separated localities. The things that I have
seen in Central New Jersey are not the same that would
have appeared to an observer in the mountains of Penn-
sylvania, in New England, or in the Western States, for
it is with the habits of birds, not their anatomical pecul-
iarities, that I am concerned, and these are decided by
the bird's environment. As this is widely different in
different portions of the range of any species, it neces-

OUR BIRDS IN GENERAL. 95

sarily follows that there must result certain peculiarities
of habit incident to the locality that are of interest to the
philosophical naturalist.

In a region like Central New Jersey, which seems to
be a neutral ground between the ranges of Northern and
Southern species, it is scarcely practicable to determine
precisely the avi-fauna. Every year adds additional in-
stances of the occurrence of some rare straggler ; and, in
accordance with the character of the winter especially, is
there an abundance or otherwise of certain species that
make a brief stay during that season. Again, it is scarcely
practicable for an observer, however enthusiastic, to be
out-of-doors the entire day, and, I may add, evening;
and yet, unless thus constantly on the watch, the coming
and going of certain species will escape his notice. A
list of birds characteristic of a given locality is of value
as a catalogue of a very limited area, and does not hold
good over any considerable number of square miles, for
the variation in the surface geology or physical geogra-
phy of the neighborhood affects in a marked degree the
habits of some species, and decides the presence or absence
of others during a part or the whole of the year. As an
instance, Gentry, in his " Life Histories of Birds," refers
to our common meadow-lark as migratory about German-
town (Philadelphia), Pennsylvania, while in this neighbor-
hood it is a winter resident ; and the same might be said
of several other species. Yet the field of Mr. Gentry's
observations and my own are but thirty miles apart as
the crow flies, though geologically they are as different
as well can be.

In conclusion, it may be added that in the uplands
and meadows, and along the river-banks, I have noted
one hundred and seventy-two species of birds. Of these,
many are migratory, while others visit us but rarely. Of

96 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

those that remain throughout the year there are but few,
though at no season are we without a sufficient variety to
make it as pleasant as it is profitable to indulge in out-of-
door studies in ornithology. Even in the gloomiest days
of winter there will always be a stray song-sparrow, nut-
hatch, or tit, a brave cardinal, a lark, or at least a crow,
jay, or woodpecker, to enliven the woods and fields, and
no bird can be long watched, as it hovers about its chosen
haunts, without giving us some further insight into the
mysteries of bird-life.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS.

As understood by me, the migration of a bird is sim-
ply the desertion of a given locality for a certain and al-
ways the same portion of each year. As an example, the
common house-wren is migratory, in that it remains in
New Jersey only from late in April until late in Septem-
ber, having left its southern home for six months.

Before endeavoring to determine the causes of this
movement on the part of some birds, we must first note
the various features characterizing the movement itself —
for it may safely be asserted that no two birds migrate
in the same manner, although the similarity is marked
among the various species of the same family. The most
notable feature in migration is the apparent uniformity in
the time of its occurrence ; that is, of the dates of the ar-
rivals in spring and of the departures in autumn. Is
this arrival in spring as regular as claimed by some and
supposed by most people ? To the casual observer, and
indeed to many who have for years noted the first appear-
ances of our various birds, the arrival seems to be quite
regular ; and, curiously enough, we find many such ob-
servers insisting that, however late a bird may be, any one
season, he is never earlier than a given date. Thus we
have been frequently told that the wrens are never seen
before May 1st, and that usually upon that day they
are here in full force. Now, let any one watch day and
5

98 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

night for the first birds of the season; let him wan-
der all day in or about tangled thickets and sheltered,
sunny hill-sides ; let him, with sleepless eye, scrutinize
every haunt of the birds, and with vigilant ear listen to
every faint chirp and far-off twitter, and follow up every
undetermined bird-note ; let him do this, year after year,
from April 1st to the 30th, and he will find his note-
books teeming with records of early birds, that will come
and go all unsuspected by the mid-day observer, who
often will insist upon the absence altogether of many
a summer songster, which, skulking about, withholds its
joyous songs until the woods have welcomed the full
company of its kind, that of old have made merry in its
shady nooks. The fact is, there is more to be learned
about birds in one hour of the early morning than in
six weeks of midday sunshine.

The amount of variation in the dates of arrival of all
of our spring birds is really considerable, and in the
whole list of migratory inland birds that annually visit
~NQW Jersey, either to remain throughout the summer
or on their way to more northern localities, there is not
one that can be considered regular in the time of reach-
ing here, by from twenty to thirty days.

The amount of variation in the dates of arrival, year
after year, of the same species — say of the brown thrush,
cat-bird, or yellow-breasted chat — is less, however, than in
the time of arrival of allied species, as, for instance, of the
various species of thrushes which reach us very irregu-
larly. The robin is a resident species ; the wood-thrush
appears from April loth to May 10th; the tawny thrush
sometimes later by two weeks, and sometimes absent al-
together ; the olive-backed thrush passes by irregularly
as to both time and seasons, and so, too, does the hermit-
thrush, which, however, occasionally remains throughout

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 99

the summer. The brown thrush, or " thrasher," comes
to us by twos and threes as early as April 20th, and not
until after the 1st of May can they be considered as
present in full force. The mocking-bird is very irregu-
lar, both as to years and dates, and the cat-bird, never
missing a year, wants the early May foliage developed
in which to skulk. Often in "single blessedness" he
comes to his last year's haunts, and is wonderfully in-
genious in his efforts to conceal himself in the leafless
thickets of early April, keeping ever close to the ground,
and never venturing upon the slightest attempt at a song.

The many notes I have made with reference to the
warblers also indicate a great degree of irregularity and
uncertainty in their migratory movements. This applies
to these birds not only as a family, but to all of the vari-
ous species separately, of which a score or more generally
pass through the State. During certain seasons I have
noticed a marked preponderance of some one or two
warblers which in the following seasons were much less
common than many other kinds of birds. Thus, in
1860, 1864, 1867, and 1872 the common redstarts were
very abundant, not only about their natural haunts, but
within the city limits, and scores of them could be seen
climbing over and flitting through the branches of the
shade-trees of the less-frequented streets. Since 1872,
except in 1882, these birds have not been so numerous ;
indeed, they have been far less so than many other war-
blers, such as the yellow-rumped, the black-throated blue,
and the yellow summer warbler.

Unlike the thrushes, the warblers seem to be largely con-
trolled by meteorological influences ; and sudden changes
of the weather, which, unlike some birds, they seem un-
able to foretell, greatly influence their movements, and
certainly delay their northward progress ; and yet, while

100 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

I have frequently known them to be caught in a " north-
easter," they are not otherwise affected by it, so far as I
could determine, other than by the delay before men-
tioned. Even a sudden change from warm, summer-like
weather to decided cold, did not apparently destroy any
of them or check their lively movements among the trees.
Let us glance at the well-known swallows. For five
months of every year we have with us, in greater or less
abundance, six species of swallow and one " swift," the
common chimney-swallow. Of these, one, the rough-
winged swallow, is comparatively rare ; the white-bellied
are not particularly abundant, except during certain sea-
sons ; the cliff-swallow is erratic, now here, about the
barns and stables of a circumscribed neighborhood for
several years, and then wholly failing to appear in their
former haunts. Not so, however, with the barn-swal-
low; with a variation in date of arrival of about ten
days, there comes to us in May our full complement of
these beautiful birds. They have decreased in numbers
during the past fifty years, so observant old farmers have
said, but probably not so much as they think. It is more
probably the increase in the numbers of other species
that makes the numbers of the barn-swallow seem fewer.
The bank-swallow, earliest of all, is here literally by mill-
ions, and the purple martins, in moderate numbers, sel-
dom fail to occupy the boxes placed for their accommoda-
tion ; while, lastly, the chimney-swallow, I believe, has
never failed to appear in about the same numbers year
after year. I have fewer instances recorded of single swal-
lows, seen at unusually early dates, than of birds of any
other family. Some, indeed, arrive much earlier than
others, as for instance the bank-swallow ; but the differ-
ence in the date of its arrival, throughout any ten years,
is certainly much less than it is with other birds, which

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 101

with some is surprisingly regular, though not absolutely
so, as is so often asserted.

Let us now glance at the peculiarities of this family
of birds, and compare them with the thrushes and war-
blers. One marked difference is seen in their wonderful
flight-power, the thrushes and warblers being weak in
their powers of flight; positively as well as compara-
tively ; and my observations bear me out in asserting, as
a law of migration, that its regularity is in proportion to
and solely dependent on the flight-powers of the species.
With the entire list of inland birds of New Jersey we
believe this to hold good.

I have already expressed my belief that many birds
have the ability to foretell a coming storm. As this is not
directly connected with the subject of migration, as I am
now considering it, I will pass to another feature of this
prophetic power, as it apparently is, in birds, and that is,
their ability to judge of the general character of the com-
ing season by a visit of a few days' duration early in spring.
I have so frequently noticed that certain birds, common
to a locality during the summer, occasionally fail to visit
it, except in the case of one or two individuals, that come
for a few days in April, that it has appeared as if these
pioneer birds had satisfactory reasons for believing that
there would be a scarcity of food, and so returned to meet
their fellows, and, informing them of the fact, they all de-
parted to "fresh fields and pastures netfc," just as a single
crow, discovering danger, will turn a whole colony from
their course as they are going to their roosting-place. This,
be it understood, is a supposition, and may be wholly un-
true ; but how are we to interpret the meaning of any
habit or particular movement of a bird, except by the
human standard ? An act on the part of a bird is intel-
ligible to us only as we would interpret a corresponding

102 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

act in man ; and these acts in birds and men, producing
allied results, indicate that close connection between all
animal life which is so readily comprehended from an
evolutionary stand-point. Now, as an instance of this
" foretelling " power in birds, I noted, during the spring
of 1874, the arrival of the first chewink or towhee bunt-
ing on the 27th of April. Busily it hopped among the
dried leaves and tangled briers, enlivening the thicket
with its constant song, just as a dozen of its kind had
done throughout the preceding summer. In a few days
it had disappeared, and not a chewink has been seen or
heard for nearly six months. Late in October a few were
noticed on their way south from the country north of us.
This locality is one where these birds usually congregate,
and I have often found a dozen nests within its limits.
But, a few miles away, these birds were as abundant as
usual. In two ways I can explain the absence of these
birds: either those that were accustomed to occupy it
went to a new locality, and the single bird that had pre-
ceded them, finding his companions did not come, left,
rather than remain alone ; or he left to announce that
food would be scarce — for it must be remembered, as
Darwin has remarked, " most animals and plants keep to
their proper homes, and do not needlessly wander about,
as is seen even with migratory birds, which almost always
return to the same spot." At any rate, the summer of
1874, in this neighborhood, was the driest in the past
fifty years, and it seemed as if the chewink knew what
was coming. So, at least, I believe. During that sum-
mer I noted the nearly entire absence of several species
which are common, as a rule, and a very marked decrease
in the numbers of those that did appear ; but, at the same
time, my note-books mention the arrival of one or more
individuals of every one of our migratory birds. Many,

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 103

like the chewink, foresaw what was coming, and acted
accordingly. It would be most interesting to determine
if insect-life was less abundant than usual during that
summer, but I can only note on this point, as suggestive
of the fact that it was so, a marked freedom of the fruit-
trees and fruit itself from the attacks of their insect ene-
mies.

I must confess, however, that this explanation of the
coincidence between the actual absence of the birds, and
the occurrence of a remarkably rainless summer, does
not lead me to believe that birds generally have a pro-
phetic insight, or that they are habitually led thereby to
prepare for the season, whatever it may prove to be.
My statistics, covering many years, with especial refer-
ence to several of our smaller mammals, show that they
do not possess such foretelling powers, and therefore it
is the less probable that any bird should be thus gifted.
When my remarks on migration were first written, I was
disposed to attribute prophetic power to migrating birds.
I let my notes stand as originally written, but must add,
in this connection, that during the past eight years I have
grown skeptical.

Another feature of the migration of our inland birds
must here be briefly referred to ; and that is, the failure
of late years of certain species to come, as a rule, as far
north as New Jersey ; and also the habit, now fully ac-
quired by others, of remaining throughout the year, when,
but a comparatively short time ago, these same birds were
truly migratory.

As an instance : the summer redbirds, twenty years
ago, were regular visitors to Central New Jersey, arriving
about the first of May and staying until October. They
nested on trees, frequently in apple orchards, laying pret-
ty, purple-blotched, green eggs. They preferred wooded

104 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

hill-sides with a growth of underbrush, and having a
southern exposure. In such situations they were numer-
ous, and to one such locality, in particular, I can well re-
member the charm they added by the bright gleam of
their plumage as they passed from tree to tree, uttering
their peculiar but not melodious notes. For the past
twenty years I have not seen half a dozen individuals,
and no nests have been recorded since 1857. In far
scantier numbers the scarlet tanager has taken their
place, although this bird is not rare by any means, nor
was it so when the preceding species was abundant.

It is much the same with the mocking-bird. For-
merly as regular in its appearance, if not as abundant, as
the cat-bird, it is now among our rarest summer visitants.
An occasional pair, selecting some well-tangled thicket,
will come late or early and build their nest, and then
half a dozen years may elapse before we see them again.
Yet fifty years ago these birds were common.

Gabriel Thomas, in his history of " Pensilvania and
West New Jersey," published in 1698, in the list of birds
of Pennsylvania to which his attention had been called,
refers to this thrush as "that strange and remarkable
fowl call'd (in these parts) the Mocking- Bir d" ; and
again, in making a similar list of " West New Jersey "
animals, he mentions " that uncommon and valuable Bird
(being near the bigness of a Cuckoo) call'd the Mocking-
Bird." From the prominence he gives it in the brief list
of such large birds as geese, eagles, and pheasants, I pre-
sume that it was then a very abundant species. Fifty
years later, Kalm found mocking-birds near Philadelphia,
and remarks, " These birds stay all summer in the colonies,
bnt retire in autumn to the South, and stay away all win-
ter."

During the past half-century the numbers of these

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 105

birds that visit New Jersey have undoubtedly steadily de-
creased. In such cases as have come under my own notice,
however, the love of locality is very strong, and, if the
nest is not disturbed, the pair will return year after year.
It is probable that, in this case, withdrawal from so north-
ern a locality is not voluntary, but is due to the almost
certain persecution to which they are subjected. The
remarkable vocal powers of the bird straightway publish
the locality to every prowler, and the nest is soon sought
for the valuable brood. In accordance with evolutionary
doctrines, these birds should have learned in time to keep
quiet, as their tongues are their worst enemies ; but this
probably is too great a sacrifice, and so they now remain
away, or are so seldom met with as scarcely to be con-
sidered as an actual member of our avi-fauna. Once,
however, in the past twenty years, there has occurred an
unusual northward flight of these birds. In May, 1862,
in several localities, they were noticed in considerable
numbers, and attention was drawn to the fact in the
local newspapers. It is not improbable that the war in
Virginia, then in progress, had much to do with this ; as
it is evident that the constant cannonading and ceaseless
blaze of camp-fires over much of the territory usually
occupied by these birds would have the effect of driving
them beyond the limits of these disturbances.

As instances of " spring arrivals" that have become
resident species, I will first mention the well-known blue-
bird, which, whatever may be the state of the weather, is
as lively and full of song from November to April as at
any time during the summer ; yet it is still considered as
a migratory species, and formerly, I doubt not, was so,
even in New Jersey. More interesting is the instance
of the common yellow-rumped warbler, which, in scanty

106 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

numbers, braves our winters, and from the tops of the
loftier pines chirps merrily while the snow-flakes fill the
air, though later in the winter it seeks shelter in protected
nooks where the noonday sun has melted the snow and
given us a breath of spring-like air. In several such spots,
since February, 1863, when I shot the first winter speci-
men, I have not failed to find several individuals of this
species during each of the winter months ; and there
seems to be a steady increase in the number of them that
thus remain. The same remarks will apply, in part, to
that beautiful but not well-known songster, Bewick's
wren. They too, in scanty numbers, congregate in shel-
tered places, and even during the gloomiest of November
days one may often hear the clear notes of this lively
bird as it sits, braving a chilly westerly wind, perched on
the topmost twig of some leafless tree.

A more marked instance than any, perhaps, is that of
the great Carolina wren. In the " History of North
American Birds," by Baird, Brewer, and Kidgway, it is
stated that this wren " occasionally has been found as far
north as Philadelphia," and that it is essentially a south-
ern species. Although Audubon found it breeding in
New Jersey fully fifty years ago, the probabilities are
that, until recently, it was essentially a rare visitant to
this locality. At the present time, however, this is far
from being true, as it is really, in many localities, taking
the place of the commoner house-wren. Neither is it
"studious of concealment, and shy and retiring in its
habits," but, on the contrary, it builds its nests in our
out-buildings wherever a suitable locality offers, however
much frequented the building may be. So tame, too,
are they at such times, that it needs but little dexterity
to capture them with the hand while they are sitting on
the nest. They usually raise three broods, and are yearly

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 107

becoming more abundant, and therefore a more promi-
nent feature in our avi-fauna.

The interest centering in this species, however, is not
the fact of their summer sojourn here, but that they
have wholly relinquished the migratory habit. They
are as abundant, as full of song, as familiar, and as super-
latively restless and wren-like in January as in June, and
in this they afford an instance of change of habit that is
worthy of consideration. It is not the only example,
however, of a wren braving the severity of our winters.
We have the true winter wren, and, in scanty numbers,
Bewick's wren. It has already been mentioned that the
supposed regularity of the movements of the common
house-wren does not now obtain. Indeed, during the
past seven years, I have carefully noted the dates of
arrival and departure of the house wren, and find that
they are here both earlier in April and later in autumn
than I had supposed. It would appear that they, too, are
slowly becoming accustomed to our wintry spring days
and early foretastes of winter, and that their tarrying
with us is simply a question of food. In the case of the
Carolina wren, may it not be said that the descendants of
the wrens found in New Jersey, by Audubon, fifty years
ago, have become acclimated, and so remain throughout
the year ; or do these birds, in scanty numbers, annually
migrate from more southern localities, and leave a few
of their progeny behind when the winter winds again
drive them southward ? It is immaterial which is the
case, as it suffices to know that here, in Central New Jer-
sey, the Carolina wren, a well-marked southern species,
has of late years become an abundant resident species.
With the change, too, has come a change in its habits, so
far as this was necessary to enable it to seek a sufficient
food-supply in winter. Just where it finds this food in

108 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

midwinter, and of what it consists, I am not sure ; but
from the fact that it frequents our out-buildings, and is
also often seen in the woods, especially among fallen tim-
ber, it is probable that hibernating insect-life and spiders
afford it all needed nourishment.

I have now noted the more prominent features in the
migratory habits of our inland birds as they come to us
in May from the South, save the one fact, the bearing of
which I can not determine, that, while a large proportion
of the birds perform the journey by night, others travel
wholly by day. At least this is the common impression,
but it is difficult to demonstrate it. How little really do
we know of the precise modus operandi of migration !
All through April arid May, if astir at the earliest dawn,
when the resident birds are just starting their morning
songs, we will occasionally hear the welcome notes of
some summer bird for the first time. Has it been wing-
ing its way northward through the thick, black hours of
night, guided by some unknown sense ; and does it no
sooner reach its old-time haunts than it checks its onward
course, and from a familiar tree sings with grateful heart
a loud thanksgiving glee ?

If, during these same months, we wander about those
quiet nooks and by-ways, where the first thrushes and
warblers are likely to be seen, we shall find all the day
long, and evening, too, that they are conspicuous by their
absence. Not a chirp or twitter, save of the sparrows
and tits that are with us all the year, and of the linger-
ing snow-birds that seem to regret to leave our pleasant
places. Far into the night we may remain, and only
the startled chirp of some disturbed or dreaming bird, or
the fret and scolding of little owls, will greet our ears.
The silence of midnight may pass unbroken, and then, as

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 109

the first gray streaks of light, in the hazy east, herald the
on-coming day, suddenly a cheerful warble from some
tall cedar, or tangled brier-patch, breaks the dead silence,
and we mark the arrival of the first spring songster of
its kind. Did it reach us at sunset, and, having rested a
few hours, did it then announce its presence by its cheery
song?

It may be that they come both by day and by night,
but why at all by night, if indeed so they come, must ever
be a great mystery in the strange habit of migration.

I let the above sentences stand unaltered, but the
years since they were written have added to our knowl-
edge of the migratory movements of our smaller, weak-
flying inland birds. Not long since, many of these birds
of several species were seen, by the aid of a telescope,
moving southward, in large numbers, on a bright, moon-
light night, flying at an estimated height of about two and
one half miles. Straightway on reading this, I compared
my dates of arrivals of all our birds, a::d then made com-
parison with the almanacs for those years. Twenty-three
years of these notes should give us something worthy of
acceptance, I think; and it was found that the nearer
the full of the moon comes to the 1st of May, the earlier
collectively arrives the full complement of our summer
migrants. Of course, a storm may make a difference,
and I think the prevalence of cold northerly winds does
also ; but still it may be accepted as a fact that very
many of our birds take advantage of moonlight, and see-
ing where they are going, and knowing where they wish
to go, they travel by night. This, of course, necessitates
long journeys, and I am puzzled to know how those birds
of apparently weak flight-power can cover such long dis-
tances. It can not be wholly due to their powers of
endurance, but may be owing to some advantage taken,

110 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

I know not how, of a strong upper current of air, that
bears them along in the direction they desire to go.

It has been suggested that the vigor of the male birds
and the distended ovaries of the females, at this time of
the year, are doubtless coupled with a general vigor of
the whole body ; but it is questionable if this additional
strength of itself is sufficient to enable these birds to fly
for hundreds of miles without rest ; and furthermore, if
such is the case in spring, they have not this added strength
in autumn, when also these long journeys are made.

Let us next study our birds during the autumn. A
careful examination of the many notes, jotted down at
frequent intervals, during the months of August, Sep-
tember, October, and November, with respect to the de-
parture south of such of our birds as are summer resi-
dents, and of some that, having passed the summer in
regions far to the north, are now likewise seeking their
accustomed winter-quarters, indicates an apparent regu-
larity in the southward movements of our birds, similar
to what is seen in the spring, when they are on their way
northward, and at the same time it shows an actual de-
gree of irregularity in the dates of departure exceeding
that ot the dates of arrival.

An instance of this was brought to my notice one
August morning in 1881. As a point of observation for
noting the movements of certain birds frequenting tne
tops of our tallest trees, I sought a seat as near the top
of a fine old chestnut-oak as I dared to go. While on my
elevated perch, I was surprised to find that, now and then,
a stray specimen of some unlooked-for bird would tarry
a moment in the tree-tops, and then, resuming its high,
southern flight, would pass quickly out of sight. Such
birds were orioles, both the Baltimore and orchard ; sin-
gle rusty grakles ; a Maryland yellow-throat, a ground-

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. HI

loving species, still abundant in the thickets beneath me ;
a golden-crowned thrush; several black-throated bunt-
ings; and two humming-birds, male and female, still
keeping company. The movements of all these birds
impressed me with the belief that they were migrating
birds, and not mere chance visitors. In most instances,
they seemed to drop from above ; they remained but a
little while, never longer than ten minutes, and then
took a distinctly upward flight until nearly out of sight,
when they started down the river — that is, in a southerly
direction. This movement, which was well marked in
every case, I construed into a migratory one, and occur-
ring as it did so early in the season as August 20th, it
leads to the conclusion that the return or autumnal flight
of our migratory birds commences very soon after incu-
bation is over, and is not a sudden impulse that controls
the movements of the entire number of any given spe-
cies. Certain it is that the degree of irregularity in the
return of the birds that pass northward in May is very
great — much more so than is the onward movement in
spring to their northern summer haunts. This does not
apply to all species, of course, but to many ; and it is
precisely such exceptions — such semi-migrating or "ir-
regular " species — that give evidence that the movement
is slowly being relinquished, as being no longer absolutely
necessary for their comfort and well-being.

There are two very common birds, belonging to widely
different families, the habits of which, I think, bear di-
rectly upon this subject. One of these is the well-known
yellow-breasted chat, the other the indigo-bird.

The chat is one of our latest spring arrivals, being
very sensitive to changes of weather. If undisturbed,
these birds occupy the same nesting-place year after year,
building a new nest every season, more from necessity

112 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

than choice, as the white-footed mouse generally so uses
and abuses the old nest, during the autumn and winter,
that it is usually demolished before the return of the
birds the next spring. Now, I have noticed for years
that the chats are full of song and very active until the
young birds are able to leave the nest ; and then it usu-
ally happens that within a week or ten days the whole
family will leave the neighborhood.

After the middle of July and throughout August I
miss them from localities where for ten weeks previously
their curious medley of sweet and discordant notes was
constantly heard during the live-long day, and often for
half the night. This absence of these birds was no fancy
upon my part, caused by their silence, for many birds
cease singing when nesting is well over, but was abso-
lutely true of them. Careful search failed to trace them,
as they had evidently left the neighborhood. The six
weeks of summer following the middle of July prove to
be an interval not in the summer sojourn of those that
nested here, though it seemed so, because the chats that
about September 1st appear again in our woods and
thickets are not our old friends, but are new-comers that
have reached us from more northern localities. Those
that nested here, returned to their winter homes when
nesting was over ; while those that are seen here in Sep-
tember are those that, having nested farther to the north
and later in the season, are now on their return to their
wi n t er-quarters.

Thus, it will be seen that the chats that nested in the
valley of the Delaware River returned south as soon as
nesting was over ; while a little later, the birds from the
Hudson and Connecticut River Valleys came hither and
occupied, for a brief period, the then chat-deserted Dela-
ware Valley. These again proceed leisurely, in their

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. H3

turn, on their way, often lingering long in the golden
sunshine of sweet September days, but never singing
those ecstatic spring-time notes that fairly start the echoes
of a bright May morning.

In brief, the autumnal or return migratory movement
of our inland birds really commences in midsummer and
is from valley to valley, and therefore a gradual change
of base, along the whole northern Atlantic seaboard.

I have frequently observed the same thing in the
movements and habits of the indigo bird. In this case,
also, there is often a well-marked interim, say from the
middle of July to the beginning of September. This
can not be explained away by suggestions of slight
changes of locality, as from uplands to swamps, or open
country to wooded districts. It is, rather, an interim
caused by the departure of those that nested here in May
and June for some more southern locality. These birds
seem to move with the regularity ascribed to swallows,
and I doubt if one in fifty of those that are seen as late
as September were here during the nesting-season. These
late birds, too, do not haunt the brier-patches, high weeds,
and like spots ; but stay closely among the taller trees,
and near their very tops at that, sometimes essaying a
feeble imitation of early summer warblings. More often
this song is now but the ineffectual efforts of young birds
to anticipate their future capabilities in melody.

Other equally marked changes in habits on the part
of other birds may be mentioned as further evidence
that migration is more gradual than has been supposed.
As early as the beginning of August both species of
orioles have left their spring-time haunts. Occasionally
a male will be seen pausing on the top of some tall tree,
and whistling as he tarries for a moment ; but where are
now the numbers of old and young birds that nested or

RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

were reared in the many pendent nests in the elms and
willows ? Unlike the chats and indigo birds, the orioles
do not all depart from the land ; but, congregating in
loose flocks, they associate intimately with the reed-birds,
that are now gathering by the thousands in the uplands,
preparatory to seeking the reeds on the river shore.
Here the orioles will remain until the second or third
sharp frost. Again, those very unlike birds, the king-
bird and blue-bird, will together form loose flocks and
congregate in the meadows. This is the more difficult to
understand as the king-bird is strictly migratory, while
the blue-bird is only partly so ; and I am positive that
the flocks of the two species that haunt the meadows un-
til October are broken up at last by the king-birds pass-
ing southward and the vast majority of the blue-birds
returning to the uplands, where they remain the winter
through, seeking shelter from the more violent storms in
the dense foliage of our common cedar.

These changes of habit, comparing May and June
with August and September, have doubtless been brought
about by the all-important question of food-supply, and
in the instance of the birds last mentioned, may be looked
upon as the first step in the return migratory movement,
especially as it is a change from higher and cooler up-
lands to the low-lying and warmer shores of the south-
ward-flowing river, from near the mouth of which these
birds make an easy overland journey to the valley beyond.
In this way, long before winter sets in in the New Eng-
land and Middle States, many of our spring birds have
completed their return journey home — for home it is to
them when they near the tropics or enter them.

If we consider the several circumstances that would
necessarily influence migratory movements, this actual
irregularity in autumn is just what might be expected.

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 115

but in the spring, when every bird, if possible, returns
to its own home and former nest, they will not linger on
the way, as they know too well the length of the journey
before them. The coming duties of incubation, too, speed
them on, and we wonder why they are not more regu-
lar in their movements. In autumn all this is changed,
Now nothing need hurry them, and, so long as they find
an abundance of food, they move along leisurely, just
keeping ahead, as it seems, of the chilling frosts of the
coming winter, which they can easily endure, but which
robs them of the food they must have. This is espe-
cially true of insect-eating birds. Considered in this
light, we are not surprised to find, then, as a rule, that
the warblers, swallows, and such other birds as depend
wholly upon insects for their sustenance, leave more
promptly, and in larger numbers at one time, than do
the granivorous birds and those that can subsist on seeds,
though they consume insects as long as they can find
them.

The weather, both during September and October, is
exceedingly variable, although never really wintry, and
this fact makes the southward movements of the migra-
tory, insect-eating birds equally so, inasmuch as these
birds are not larvae- hunting species, but depend upon in-
sects that can be caught upon the wing, or are to be
found resting upon the leaves and twigs of the trees.
Therefore, just so long as the heavy white frosts are de-
layed, these insectivorous birds will linger, or move
southward in the most leisurely way. Up to a certain
time, usually about the middle of October, these birds
largely increase in numbers, consequent upon the daily
accession of those from the north, and after the maxi-
mum is reached, their number steadily decreases, until
but a few stragglers remain.

116 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

I feel quite confident that in exceptionally mild sea-
sons many more migratory birds winter in southern New
Jersey than ornithologists suspect ; and I can see in the
lingering remnant of the great flight of warblers that an-
nually pass through the State that gradual adaptation to
surrounding conditions, on the part of birds, that as cen-
turies roll by, evolve, by that mystery of mysteries the
survival of the fittest, new species from the old.

Again, long after the true insect-eaters have passed
southward, beyond the limits of the State, and scarcely a
leaf is left upon the forest-trees, when not one straggling
fly-catcher, in a day's walk, can be found hovering about
the many spots so lately tenanted by myriads of their
kind, we have yet the pleasure of seeing in our rambles
many a blithe sparrow, restless tit, or noisy nut-hatch,
either in the fields or about leafless hedges, or haunting
the still green but nearly deserted swampy meadows ; or
high up in the lofty pines, and amid the thickest branches
of the gloomy cedar, we may chance to find hosts of merry
linnets, full of song, or fiery kinglets that scold like
wrens, should you approach too near.

Of our many sparrows, of which several are resident
species, I have noted down for several years, when the
severity of the winter was yet to come, even as late as
the middle of December, the presence of three or four
species that may be considered as migratory. For in-
stance, in the wet, reedy meadows, it is not until winter
has incased in ice the tangled grasses that the sharp-
tailed finch and swamp - sparrow quit their home. In
1872, and again in 1874, which latter year was the most
remarkable for the number and variety of birds of any in
my memory, I noticed that in the dry, upland fields, all
through November's hazy Indian summer, the sprightly,
black -throated bunting remained, in little companies;

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 117

and in the quiet woodlands several retiring grosbeaks
were seen until biting north winds drove them from their
summer haunts. The bobolinks, in spite of the persecu-
tion they suffer from sportsmen, hold to their reedy
haunts, in scattering pairs, often until the first fall of
snow, and, this same bird being occasionally seen very
early in the spring, may possibly remain during the win-
ter, but if so, it is very rarely. A few red- winged black-
birds, we know, do withstand our winters, and seem to
find food somewhere and somehow, even when the ther-
mometer is at zero.

The difference between the insect-eating and the seed-
eating birds, in the more prolonged stay of the latter,
is, I think, easily explained. In the spring, when birds
journey north, there is an object ever in view, whilst in
the autumn, their sole care is to be at home in time, not
so much to escape the coming cold, as to avoid being
pinched by hunger.

"We have seen that the first frost, though it affects vege-
tation but little, does materially decrease insect life ; the
swallows, as a rule, even anticipate it, and gathering in
immense flocks they wing their way southward before it
comes. From this, we can clearly see that the weather
greatly influences, indeed governs, the migratory move-
ments in autumn of the insect-eaters. It bids them de-
part, and, in general, they heed the bidding ; but long after
this, while there are yet berries, seeds, and fruits to be
obtained, the migratory vegetarians linger by the way, in
varying but considerable numbers.

Let us now glance at the abundant and well-known
purple grakle or crow-blackbird. The numbers of this,
with us, partly migratory species which remain through-
out the winter, as compared with those which are here
during the spring and summer months, are about as ten to

118 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

one thousand, as near as I can judge ; and, in proportion
as the winter is mild, the percentage of those that remain
is increased. In Massachusetts, this bird is strictly mi-
gratory, the great bulk of those that depart from the
north and from New Jersey wintering in the Carolinas
and Georgia. In this species, therefore, we have an
example of a migratory bird that is gradually becoming
more and more accustomed, not to the rigors of winter,
which birds are better able to withstand than they are
generally supposed to be, but to the methods of our winter
residents, such as wood-peckers, jays, and titmice, in pro-
curing seasonable food. As a matter of course, food, and
an abundance of it, must necessarily be obtained, and, on
examination of the stomachs of grakles killed in January,
I have found them filled with a half-digested mass of
what appeared to be both animal and vegetable matter.
If the grakles that remain during the winter are of a
hardier constitution than those that migrate, then, as they
mate very early in the year, and before the great bulk of
the southern sojourners reach us, their offspring will nat-
urally inherit equally vigorous constitutions, and, like their
parents, will be more disposed to remain — at least, a large
proportion of them will be — and in this way, wholly
through natural selection, a race of grakles, otherwise un-
distinguishable from the whole number of this species,
will be evolved, that in time will replace, in great part,
the now migratory and semi-migratory individuals. If I
have correctly explained a change now in progress, in
the habits of this and other species, then can we not from
it gain a clew to one, at least, of the original causes of the
habit of migrating?

The act of migrating being the passage from one dis-
tant point to another, it is evident that the cause or
causes of this movement, as the case may be, operate at

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 119

either terminus of the journey. A warbler that winters
in Florida and breeds near the Arctic circle is influenced
by a cause that exists at each terminus, or rather by
two differing causes, each peculiar to the location, for it
is wholly incredible that it is the same cause that induces
both the visit to northern regions and the return to a
southern clime; therefore there must be at least two
reasons for the habit — one inducing the bird to migrate
northward in the spring, another compelling it to return
in the autumn. If it be possible now to demonstrate
what these causes are, and how the same cause can influ-
ence all migratory birds, considering that their habits are
otherwise so totally different, it will not then necessarily
follow that it was the originating cause of the habit.
"When, indeed, did this migration commence ? How far
back into the world's geological history must we go to
trace the first bird that was forced to seek another and
far-distant land wherein to rear its young and find for
its offspring and itself sufficient food ? "What conditions
of heat and cold, land and water, summer and winter,
then obtained, that birds must needs fly from coming
rigors of scorching sun, or ice and floods, or perish where
they wrere? Was it from living in such a world that
migration originated, and became, strangely enough,
characteristic of only a fraction of the whole number?
How, too, could birds have learned the oncoming of dis-
astrous times, and know just where to seek a safe harbor
and secure rest ? Clearly it could have been only by a
very gradual accumulation of experiences extending over
many generations, before the few progenitors of our many
birds gained the happy knowledge that here in the north
we have months of sunny summer weather and a wealth
of pleasant places. I shall not go back, then, of the Gla-
cial period, but rest content with it as having been the

120 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

starting-point in time of birds' migratory movements. The
progenitor of our score of warblers, the one tyrant fly-
catcher, from which all our species have sprung, the
vireos, the goatsuckers, and cuckoos, then very few in
species, if indeed there were more than one of each, must
have been influenced by the presence of the icy barriers
that shut them off for the time being from a vast portion
of the northern world, and at the close or closing of that
wonderful period it may be that migration commenced,
yet why and how it is hard even to conjecture. Knowing
that it commenced then or recommenced, if previously
a feature of bird life, we have now to inquire what are
its apparent causes at present ; but, before inquiring into
these, may we not, after all, ask if migration be not an
inherited habit, the originating causes of which are not
now in operation? The conditions not obtaining that
necessitate migration, does it not become a case of sur-
vival of habit, just as in man many customs now exist,
the origin arid proper meaning of which are wholly lost ?
That this is true of the migration of all birds I do not
believe, but that it partially holds good with some species
I am fully convinced. As an inherited habit, but one
now not absolutely necessary to the birds' welfare, I can
see why it should be, as it frequently is, so greatly influ-
enced by surrounding circumstances and conditions.

Taking the movement from its proper starting-point,
which I assume to be the movement from south to north
in the three spring months, we must now look for suf-
ficient causes to induce the undertaking of such long jour-
neys. These causes are suggested by the two principal
objects effected on their arrival at their northern destina-
tion— the rearing of their young, and procuring suitable
and sufficient food for both themselves and offspring.
If migration is for these two purposes only, then it should

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 121

prove to be the case that food was not sufficiently abun-
dant in the south for both its resident and migratory birds.
This certainly could not have been the case, and I believe,
therefore, that migratory movements, at the outset, were
very limited in extent, and consisted only of a few birds
at a time, which, seeking to avoid their enemies and have
undisturbed possession of a locality, pushed out from
their accustomed haunts for, comparatively speaking, a
few miles. The young of such pioneer birds would
naturally leave the neighborhood of their nest and return
to their parents' usual haunt with them ; but, on the re-
turn of another breeding-season, they would themselves
seek a nesting-place near where they themselves were
reared, and the older birds would go to the same nest or
nesting-place that they previously had occupied. This
is precisely what occurs now, year after year. JSTow, as
birds increased, century after century, the limits of this
northward movement would be extended, until it became
in time the journey of thousands of miles that it now is.

Assuming, then, that migration arose for the dual
purpose of safe nidification and a certainty of sufficient
food, we are met by the ugly question, " Why do not all
the southern birds come north?" If, when the whole
avi-fauna was concentrated at the south, there was any
struggle whatever for favorable feeding- or breeding-
grounds, then, naturally, the weaker would go to the
wall, or, in other words, would be driven beyond the
limits of their accustomed habitat. These weaker birds,
taken together, having once formed the habit of visiting
certain localities at stated times for given purposes, or
being periodically forced to do so, they would vary in
their methods of reaching these localities, in their choice
of regions wherein to remain, and in the length of their
annual visit, just in proportion as their habits generally

122 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

varied from those of both other species of the same family
and from species of other families. For instance, to
avoid a common enemy, a number of species might have
gradually learned to migrate at night ; while others, al-
though forced to migrate, had not this same enemy to
contend with, and so traveled only by day. In this way
the habit of nocturnal migration would long ago have
been formed, and it would, by inheritance, be continued
by their descendants, even after the enemy had been long
extinct.

Having reached their northern summer homes, and,
free from molestation, reared their broods, clearly, if all
things needed for their comfort were to be obtained, it
can not be supposed that these same birds would unneces-
sarily retrace their long flight to the distant south. This
suggests that, if I am correct in assuming that birds first
appeared in a tropical climate, and from such climate
migration started, it is probable that, by gradually pro-
longing their northern visits and accustoming themselves
to northern insect and vegetable life, these regions be-
came populated by their resident species. It is evident
that the present migratory species are simply compelled
to return, and three compelling causes are demonstrable.
Primarily, the sudden increase of cold at the close of the
brief northern summer, which starts southward those
farthest at the north. This accession of intense cold
necessarily decreases the amount of food, and the birds
are now forced to find it elsewhere. Farther and farther
south they come, just in advance of the cold, and slower
and slower they proceed as they enter our more temper-
ate latitude, and here, resting as it were, they linger
until a keen frost kills their insect-food, and, scattering
the leaves, robs them of their main shelter from their
enemies, happily fewer now than formerly, and now still

THE MIGRATION OF INLAND BIRDS. 123

southward they proceed, until they reach a home in lands
blessed with perpetual summer.

I have now traced these migratory species from south
to north, and back to their southern habitat, and endeav-
ored to point out the several operating causes of the
movement as I did so. I have already suggested the
possibility of migration being an inherited habit not now
necessary. Now, be this true or not, it is evident that
the habit is not so fixed that ordinary changes in sur-
rounding conditions do not greatly influence it. This, I
think, is shown by the irregularity of the movement that
really occurs, and the tendency on the part of many
species to modify the habit by occasionally halting much
to the south of their usual breeding-grounds, and by re-
maining later and later in autumn; and, again, by the
fact that many birds are now only partially migratory,
and that others occasionally migrate simply in search of
food, irrespective of seasons, thus exhibiting, as it were,
traces of a habit they have long lost.

In the migration of a bird, then, I see simply a tem-
porary sojourn in a distant locality for the purpose of
rearing its offspring in safety ; the cause being implied
by the term "safety," that is, freedom from enemies and
an abundance of food.

CHAPTER XIY.

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS** NESTS.

HAVING read with great delight Mr. Wallace's essays
on the " Philosophy of Birds' Nests," and his theory
concerning them, it occurred to me to see how far his
views were applicable to the hundreds of nests that were
yearly built in my favorite haunts about home ; for,
whether I rambled by the river's shore, or the wooded
creek-bank nearer by, in the open meadows or the upland
fields, by the weedy angles of the zigzag fences, or in the
depths of the woods, I soon noticed that, whatever else
might be wanting, some one kind of bird, at least, had
found in every locality a fitting place for its nest.

At first, there appeared to be such a similarity in the
nests that I almost came to the conclusion that birds could
only construct them in one manner, and were incapable
of varying from it ; that they did not exercise any judg-
ment in the work, and that to-day their nests were but
fac-similes of those built by their remotest ancestors in
the indefinite past.

This idea of fixedness of habit was formerly very gen-
erally, and to a limited extent is still, taught as true not
only of birds but of all animals. It is the natural out-
come of the old creative theory of life, and is, I need
scarcely add, utterly false.

"Whatever may have been the peculiarities of the
original bird-like creature, before losing reptilian and as-

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 125

Burning decidedly avian features, it certainly bore no re-
semblance to any living bird, the oldest form of which was
long since evolved from a still more primitive avian, and
at the same time distinctively reptilian, creature. These
changes having been wrought in the birds themselves, it
would be strange indeed if there had not been a corre-
sponding want of fixity in their habits.

As to the general correctness of the views of Mr.
Wallace concerning the motive that causes certain birds
to build nests of a particular pattern, I have no criticism
to make. Suffice it to say, that the results given in the
following pages will show that, to a certain extent at
least, his views will apply to our birds. With these cau-
tionary remarks we are now ready to take up the results
of my short studies of the nests themselves, which were
originally made several years ago, but which have been
verified during each succeeding summer.

Having carefully examined the nest of a particular
kind of bird, which seemed to agree most nearly with
the published descriptions, I then noted each nest found,
and marked the amount of variation in the construction
and position. Take, for instance, the nest of our common
robin. Here we have a nest largely constructed of coarse
twigs and grass, lined with a " cup-shaped fabric of clay
or mud," this mud being covered with finer grass, horse-
hair, and occasionally a few feathers. It is an excellent
nest to study, as it shows fully the amount of variation
practiced in their construction. During the spring and
summer of 1873 I found thirty-two of these nests in an
area of about four hundred acres. Of these thirty-two I
shall speak, principally with reference to the care exhib-
ited in the mud lining, and refer but incidentally to their
positions. Eleven of them were what might be called
" typical" ; as in them the mud lining was complete, ex-

126 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

tending to within an inch, or a little more, of the rim or
top of the structure.

In fourteen, the mud lining was more or less incom-
plete, although it always extended over the bottom of
the nest, or of so much of the interior surface as was
necessary for the eggs or very young birds to rest upon.
Without an exception, the fine grass and. hair lining the
interior of each nest were in greater proportion as the
mud lining was imperfect, so that, in some instances, the
mud being concealed, the nests were very similar to those
of other thrushes.

The remaining seven nests were " abnormal," each of
them occupying a different position from that which the
robin is usually supposed to select. A careful study of
the surroundings, however, showed that there was always
some outside advantage, such as immediate proximity to
abundant food, which may have had some influence in
the choice of location. As an instance, one of these
seven nests was placed in a deep cleft in the trunk of an
apple-tree. It had a southern exposure, was protected
from rain by the trunk and branches of the tree, and
altogether was admirably located. But, as the tree itself
had an abundance of branches, which for many summers
had had robins' nests among them, there seemed to be
some reason why this particular location was now occu-
pied for the first time. "What was the cause of this
change from the branches to the cleft I could not dis-
cover. The nest itself was merely a few coarse twigs,
projecting about two inches from the trunk of the tree,
and intended for the necessary support of that portion of
the " clay fabric " not resting upon the tree itself. When
completed, the structure much resembled a modified cliff-
swallow's nest, such as these birds build under the eaves
of barns.

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 127

If now, as Mr. Wallace has pointed out, and, as I be-
lieve, conclusively shown, young birds build their nests
through imitation, then the young robins reared in this
nest will seek out somewhat similar situations for their
own nests. Should such a locality not suit the bird's
mate, then a more exposed position would be chosen, as is
usually the case, and some of the peculiarities of the nest
in which one of the pair was reared would, I doubt not,
be retained. If, however, it should happen that the pair
in question were brother and sister, then it is probable
that an identical nest would be constructed, if a similar
locality could be found. Notwithstanding the wander-
ing disposition of oar robins, it can be shown that the
same pair, year after year, return to the same locality to
build ; and if they, or indeed, if birds of any kind remain
together, or having separated they come again together,
year after year, there is no reason why the brood of one
year may not become more or less associated during the
ensuing spring, when they may mate and construct nests
of their own. I am very positive that this in-breeding
occurs very often among resident species, and with no
ill effects. We see it constantly, too, in our domestic
pigeons.

In comparing the eleven typical nests of the robin, it
could not but be noticed that minor differences or pecul-
iarities existed. These small variations were in size,
which was in fact considerable ; in shape, some of the
nests being oval rather than circular ; in the choice of
material for the interior lining, and, in one case, this
lining, I am sorry to say, was surprisingly like that of a
chipping-sparrow's nest, and had probably been stolen.
Indeed, among robins, as well as among all other birds,
there are individual rogues, as well as cross-grained, scold-
ing wives and husbands.

128 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Taking a careful survey of the whole thirty- two nests,
they suggested at once an ordinary village : there were,
for instance, handsome structures, and then again very
modest ones ; and while, perhaps, strictly speaking, the
causes that produce this variation in the dwelling-places
of birds are not the same as those which lead to a similar
state of affairs among mankind, yet in a remote degree
they are believed to be in many respects analogous.
For instance, there are industrious birds and lazy ones ;
plucky birds that are not daunted by obstacles, and de-
spondent ones that are cast down by shadows ; and this
of itself will account for a great deal of the variation in
birds' nests. That birds differ greatly in their tempera-
ments can hardly be doubted, and, if this be admitted,
may we not go a step further and claim also differences
in mental capacity, or, in plain language, may we not
say that the " smarter " the bird the better the nest ?

Why these nests of the robin vary, simply is — a mud-
lined nest being that which formerly, if not at present,
was best suited to the bird's welfare — that a bird reared
in a poorly constructed and partially lined nest may
prove to be of greater ability and more energetic than its
parents, and this, joined with the fact that the bird's
mate may have been reared in a nest of perfect construc-
tion, of itself, would tend to remedy in part the defects in
construction that its partner might allow ; the facts to-
gether would certainly secure an approach to, if not the
complete attainment of, a typical robin's nest. So, as the
years roll by, the nest of the robin would remain substan-
tially the same ; but what slight variations circumstances
have caused to be made, if not detrimental, would also
be continued, and, if any marked changes of environment
occurred, increased.

Why, indeed, a robin should line its nest with mud,

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 129

and its near relatives, the wood-thrush and cat-bird,
should not, is not known ; but as changes gradually
brought about by man's agency have already effected
changes in the habits of some of our birds, so these same
changes, ever in progress in the haunts of the robin, may
cause these birds to gradually omit this lining of mud,
and so make their habitations more like those of other
thrushes ; just as the cliff-swallow, with us, no longer
places a " bottle-neck " opening to its mud-built nests.

There is an instability in the whole range of the hab-
its of birds going hand-in-hand with the undoubted ten-
dency to variation in their anatomical structure, exces-
sively slow as this is. Natural selection, or whatever may
be the determining influence that governs it, controls
as surely the range of variation in the details of the con-
struction of their nests, inasmuch as these variations are
the inevitable results of changes wrought in the physical
construction of the creatures themselves. Stripped of
the haze that metaphysics has gathered about it, the op-
erations of the mind, whether in man or bird, are only
the curious results of the working of those fatty atoms,
intimately combined, which we call the brain, and by no
argumentation can the two be separated. They are just
as interdependent, and as much parts of a single whole, as
the eye and sight, the nose and smell, hearing and the
ear, the circulation of the blood and the beating of the
heart.

A nest of a totally different character, that of the
Baltimore oriole, was more carefully studied, inasmuch
as it afforded more marked variations from what may be
considered the typical form of such a structure.

In the essays by Mr. "Wallace (" On Natural Selec-
tion," by A. E. Wallace, London, 1STO, p. 211 et

130 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

the conclusion is drawn that, where a nest is so construct-
ed as to conceal the sitting bird, the occupant, in all such
cases, is of bright, showy plumage, and would easily be
detected' by birds of prey, if not concealed when on the
nest. Of the family Icteridce, to which the Baltimore ori-
ole belongs, Mr. Wallace says : " The red or yellow and
black plumage of most of these birds is very conspicuous,
and is exactly alike in both sexes. [This is not true of
the Baltimore oriole, the female of which is much less
brightly colored.] They are celebrated for their fine,
purse-shaped, pensile nests." Now, there are two consid-
erations worthy of attention with reference to this bird
and the character of its nest. In the first place, as the
male bird is much brighter than the female in its plum-
age, would it not require a concealing nest if it assisted
in incubation ? Now, does the male bird take part in
covering the eggs ? Unquestionably it does. Secondly,
if the bird-concealing nest, a " pendulous and nearly cy-
lindrical pouch," is constructed solely with reference to
the protection of the parent birds, would it not be within
the range of probabilities that, no danger existing, the
labor of constructing so elaborate a nest would be aban-
doned ? Has this actually occurred ?

During the summer of 1872, 1 found nine nests of the
Baltimore oriole within a comparatively small area ; in
1873, I succeeded in finding seventeen nests in an area
nearly ten times as large ; and during the summer of
1874 I found thirteen nests in an area of the same extent
as that examined in 1873.

These thirty-nine nests I classified as follows : of the
nine examined in 1872, six were so constructed as to ef-
fectually conceal the sitting bird, arid three were suffi-
ciently open at the top to give a hawk hovering above it
a view of the occupant.

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 131

Of the seventeen which I found and inspected during
the summer of 1873, eleven were "bird concealing" in
their shape, and the remaining six like the three I found
in 1872 — i. e., were open at the top.

During the summer of 1874, Baltimore orioles were
unusually abundant, and of the thirteen nests found,
eight were open at the top, and five were long, pendulous
pouches that wholly hid the sitting bird.

Bearing in mind the supposed reason for building a
nest that would conceal the parent birds when occupying
it, I noted down the exact location of each of these thirty-
nine nests. In every instance, those that concealed the
sitting bird were at a considerable distance from any
house, in uncultivated parts, the larger portion being on
an unfrequented island ; the others were on elm-trees
growing on the banks of a lonely creek. In both these
localities sparrow-hawks were seen frequently, when
compared with their appearance in the neighborhoods
selected for the building of open-topped nests, all of
which were in willow and elm trees in the yards of farm-
houses, and in full view of people continually passing to
and fro.

The conclusion drawn from the study of these nests
was, that the orioles, knowing that there was in this case
but little danger from hawks, constructed a less elaborate
nest, one which answered every purpose of incubation,
though it did not conceal the parent birds when occupy-

ing it.

Of the nests that did not conceal the sitting birds,
every one was really open at the top, and the bird entered
from above. The weight of the bird when in the nest
appeared to draw the edges of the rim together sufficiently
to shut out all view of the occupant. The rims of those
nests that when occupied concealed the birds were all

132 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

much smaller, and the nest itself was deeper, than were
any of those nests where concealment was not considered
in the construction ; these latter being in every way much
like the ordinary nests of the orchard oriole.

Originally, in all probability, when its enemies were
more numerous, especially the smaller hawks, the nest of
the Baltimore oriole was perfectly closed at the top and
had an opening at the side ; but, of the hundreds of these
nests that I have seen, I have never yet found one that
was constructed in this manner.

Perhaps as great a change in the manner of construct-
ing nests as that given in the case of the Baltimore ori-
ole is shown in an instance that occurred under rnv

0

notice in 1875, and has since been repeated every year
(1880) by, probably, the same pair of birds. This is the
construction of a semi-globular, supported nest, in a pine-
tree, by the orchard or bastard orioles. The materials
used in building it were the leaves of the pine, or " pine-
needles," as we call them. A few strands of long grass
and a bit or two of thread entered into the rim of the
nest, and seemed merely to outline the top and hold to-
gether the slight twigs to which the nest was attached.
The pine-needles were woven into a basket, and supported
by a stray thread or a single long, flexible blade of grass,
placed here and there through the nest. The bottom of
the structure rested on a twig, so that in no respect was
it suspended. While ordinarily these orioles build a less
carefully constructed nest than does the Baltimore oriole,
still it is usually suspended, and made of long, flexible
grass, closely interwoven. The nests in the pine-tree,
on the other hand, were remarkable for the almost total
absence of any suitable flexible materials. This could
not have arisen from their absence, as Baltimore orioles

A SNORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 133

built three nests in the immediate vicinity, and had no
trouble in finding as much long grass, hair, and bits of
twine as they needed.

The nest of the orchard orioles made of pine-needles
was rebuilt in the pine-tree in precisely the same man-
ner in 1878 and in 1879. In 1880 two such nests were
built. In 1876 and 1877 the nests were built in apple-
trees near by, and pine-needles were used. Why the
pine-tree was deserted for two years is to be explained
by the fact that, in those years, a colony of purple grakles
occupied that and the adjoining trees during the nesting
season ; and, considering the noise they made, night and
day, it is scarcely to be wondered at that the orioles should
seek other localities for their summer home. The grakles
did not appear in 1878 and 1879, so the orioles again had
the pine to themselves while nesting. In 1881 and the
past summer, 1882, the grakles were back, and no orioles
nested in the pine ; but I found a nest of theirs in a pear-
tree near by, and this, like all the others, was made almost
wholly of pine-needles.

The present nesting-habits of the chimney-swallow
are worthy of some consideration, in connection with the
subject of variation in the nidih'cation of birds. It
may be laid down as a fixed habit of this bird, that, at
present, it constructs its nest only in chimneys. The ex-
ceptional cases that have been mentioned recently are too
few to render qualification of this statement necessary.
Now, as chimneys have been available less than three
centuries, where, prior to this, were the nests of this bird
placed? Peter Kalm says of these birds, writing one
hundred and thirty years ago : " They derive their name
from nests built in chimneys which are not made use of
in summer : sometimes, when the smoke is not very great,

134 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

they do not mind the smoke, and remain in the chimney.
I did not see them this year [1749] till late in May, but
in the ensuing year [1750] they arrived on the 3d of
May, for they appear much later than the other swallows."
(This is not true of them at present. They invariably
follow the bank-swallow, and precede by several days
the rest. of the swallow tribes. The chimney-swallow,
furthermore, is not a true swallow but a swift, birds of
a very different family, but with similar habits.) It is
remarkable that each feather in their tail ends in a stiff,
sharp point, like the end of an awl ; they apply the tail
to the side of the wall in the chimneys, hold themselves
with their feet, and the stiff tail serves to keep them up.
They make a great thundering noise all the day long by
flying up and down in the chimneys ; and, as they build
their nests in chimneys "only, and it is well known that
the Indians have not so much as a hearth made of ma-
sonry, much less a chimney, but make their fires on the
ground in their huts, it is an obvious question, Where did
the swallows build their nests before the Europeans came
and made houses with chimneys? It is probable that
they formerly made them in great hollow trees."

This view of Kalm's is correct, as is well known. I
had the good fortune in 1869 to find a " great hollow
tree " in a piece of woodland that was thus tenanted by a
colony of these birds. The nests did not vary at all from
those found in chimneys. I judged the cause of this return
to the old-time habit of nesting in trees was the fact that
the chimney of a small house near by, in which the swal-
lows were accustomed to build, had been closed to them
by a wire netting, and, as the nearest available chimneys
were all tenanted by swallows, these "shut out" birds
were forced to seek some available locality in a tree or
crevice of a rock, or else quit the neighborhood. Ac-

A SHORT STUDY OF BIRDS' NESTS. 135

cepting the only alternative, they availed themselves of
a hollow chestnut-tree, where they were, to all appear-
ance, as well suited as they would have been in their
former haunts. My curiosity was roused to know what
the following summer would have to show. Would they
return to the tree ? In April and May of 1870, I care-
fully watched for them, but not a swallow appeared.

The nests of the chimney-swallows, when placed in
hollow trees, are, of course, greatly exposed to the attacks
of owls and such carnivorous mammals as are good
climbers, and it is highly probable that, in the case of
these birds, we have an instance of birds thriving better
and increasing in numbers, in consequence of the envi-
ronment being greatly altered by man's agency. The
habit of building nests of a particular pattern and many
together has remained the same ; but, the artificial locali-
ties offered being a great improvement over anything in
.Nature, the birds have been correspondingly benefited.

CHAPTER XY.

THE SONGS OF BIRDS.

DURING the spring and summer of 1874 especially,
and at all favorable opportunities since, my out-door
studies were largely confined to particular phases of bird-
life, rather than to their habits generally. Most promi-
nent among these was that of singing, and its relation to
the other utterances of birds ; for I had been long under
the impression, and since am fully convinced, that a bird's
song bears just the same relationship to its various chirps,
twitters, and calls, that singing wTith mankind bears to
ordinary conversation.

Early in the morning of any bright May day, passing,
on my lookout for new arrivals among the migratory
birds, along some woody slope glistening with dew and
glorious in floral decoration, I am greeted by a loud
chirp ! In an instant a hundred melodious voices are
hushed, and not until I have remained quiet for several
moments is the concert resumed ; then the bird that gave
this warning call seeks some more elevated perch, and,
with head erect, he again takes up the strain. Another
and another songster joins in the chorus, and again the
woods ring with the united voices of thrushes, wrens, spar-
rows, and warblers beyond count.

It may be objected, at the very outset, that all are not
singing birds, and the fact of non-singing birds outnum-
bering the others disposes effectually of my theory.

THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 137

" Whoever heard an owl sing ? " is asked in derision.
Well, my good friend, do you call the shrill, cacophonous
shouts of savages singing \ Yet we know that to these
same savage peoples their weird cries and monotonous
drumming are as melodious as the best efforts of a prima
donna are to us. While, as we understand melody, some
species of birds are endowed with marked musical abil-
ities and others are devoid of them, it does not follow
that the latter have not a series of notes or utterances
pleasurable to themselves and to their fellows. To deny
this is really to assert that some birds are gifted with
song for man's pleasure instead of for their own. This is
a common expression, I know, but it is utterly absurd.
Careful observation will enable any one to see clearly
that every bird has a considerable range of utterance,
which is divisible into cries or expressions of various
kinds, each, of course, having a different and uniform
meaning. Some of the low, monotonous notes of brood-
ing birds are evidently uttered for their soothing effect
upon themselves, their mates and young, and are only
heard during the nesting season. The truth is, a bird
can only be rightly understood by a bird, and a naturalist
must spend years in patient watching, often for days to-
gether, and must have made himself familiar to the birds,
before he can witness a tithe of the many acts which go
to prove that they approach nearer to reasoning beings
than is generally supposed.

Space does not allow me to give all the details that I
have jotted down during my rambles about home, and I
must content myself with an occasional extract from my
note-book, in the effort to interpret briefly the songs of
many of our birds.

Including some twenty species of warblers, more or
less regular in their yearly appearance, there are in Cen-

138 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME.

tral New Jersey fifty-four birds, resident and migratory,
that can be considered as strictly singing birds. These
may with perfect propriety be classed in accordance with
their peculiar temperaments, as VIVACIOUS, SPRIGHTLY, or
DULL; meaning thereby to express three degrees of ani-
mation in their songs. As instances of the first may be
named the house-wren and Baltimore oriole, the song-
sparrow and indigo bird belong to the second class, and
in the third are to be found the bluebird and the peewee.
Now, the songs of these birds can not in any sense be
looked upon as a uniform series of notes — a stereotyped
whistle or an unvarying warble, as is said of them by
the late Dr. Holland in the following stanzas :

" The robin repeats his two musical words,
The meadow-lark whistles his one refrain ;
And steadily, over and over again,
The same song swells from a hundred birds."

" Bobolink, chick-a-dee, blackbird, and jay,

Thrasher and woodpecker, cuckoo and wren,
Each sings its word or its phrase, and then
It has nothing further to sing or to say."

But, as a matter of fact, they do have other songs to sing,
and do find plenty to say when occasion requires. While
as a rule the' song of any bird, when once known, can
usually be recognized when heard a second time, yet this
is not always the case, for the reason that our songsters
do, at times, vary their notes in the most striking man-
ner. This is such a frequent occurrence, and is so uni-
versally true of our song-birds, as effectually to disprove
the assertion that they have " nothing further to sing or
to say."

As has been said, the various songs of the fifty odd
kinds of singing birds can be readily placed under one

THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 139

or the other of these three headings; and, curiously
enough, in every case the song is indicative of the char-
acter of the bird or vice versa. Unquestionably there is
a close connection between the song and temperament ;
in fact, it may be laid down as a law that the latter de-
cides the character of the former. This has, I think, a
strong bearing on the question of the origin of the songs
themselves, as I do not entertain the suggestion that some
birds were created songsters, while others were denied
this power. Rather, it seems to me that, from cries of
alarm, and quick, hearty chirps expressive of satisfaction,
there have been evolved the melodious notes of our most
accomplished songsters. Why may not this be so ? Cer-
tainly by analogous processes our present civilization has
produced in time the elaborate music of the present
day, from the harsh, discordant attempts at melody on
the part of existing savage races, just as they were the
outcome of still ruder sounds in which man's primeval,
pre-human ancestry indulged.

Let us now consider for a moment one fact in regard
to these songs that separates them from the other utter-
ances of birds, and that is, that the bird sings solely for
the pleasure of listening himself, or of being listened to
by his fellows, and the song bears no relation whatever
to any of his preceding or subsequent movements. From
this it would appear that the song of a bird is an expres-
sion that gives pleasure to the bird itself and to others
of its kind, which latter fact is recognized by the singer,
and thus affords him additional satisfaction. In brief,
the reason that birds sing is precisely the same as that
which induces man to cultivate music, which, by the way,
was originally exclusively vocal.

We shall now turn to the other class of utterances of
these same birds, and carefully note them down in all

140 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

their variations. There is in them material for months
of careful study, and any one who has an opportunity to
listen to a pair of newly-mated birds will be struck with
amazement at the great variety of sounds, all evident
expressions of the varied mental impressions of the mo-
ment. These " notes," as we may call them, are usually
low, and many are scarcely audible, unless we happen to
get very near the birds and yet remain unseen.

In this whole class of sounds other than the true song,
we have a guide to their proper interpretation in the very
evident fact that all such single expressions, as chirps,
trills, twitters, and shrill cries, are always accompanied
by movements which are closely related to them. A
bird singing, except during courtship, when gymnastics
are indulged in, does not busy itself with anything else
at the same time. Thus, for instance, if busy feeding,
at the moment of inspiration, it quits its search for food,
and, taking up a suitable position, it begins its song and
keeps it up until wearied with the repetition or called
by its mate, or, struck by a sudden thought, away it goes,
to work it may be, or else it flies off to some distant
place. When, however, it is busy hunting for food, the
low chirps and an occasional twitter that accompany the
search indicate, if alone, that it is talking to itself, or, if
with company, that it is talking to them ; for a bird sur-
rounded by others, or in company with its mate, will
chirp more loudly and with a greater variation of notes
than when alone. If disturbed at such a time, how dif-
ferent an utterance is heard ! "Who can doubt the mean-
ing of a frightened bird's alarm-cry ? And how quickly
is it responded to on the part of all the birds within hear-
ing?

Probably the most marked instance of a difference in
the habits that accompany the chirp and the song proper

THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 141

can be seen in the chewink or towhee bunting. This
bird keeps upon the ground nearly the whole time. Its
nest is always there, and its food is found under dead
leaves lying upon the ground. Now, while it hops about,
it utters, with much regularity and frequency, a double
chirp, which has given rise to its local name, che-wink.
A person might watch one of these birds for half a day
and never suspect that it had any song or other note
than the cheery che-wink, che-wink, it so frequently
utters. It so happens, however, that it has a moderately
sweet song, though it never yet was known to sing it
while standing upon the ground. If moved to sing, it
mounts upon a low bank or on the lower limb of a tree,
and whistles, "Chee-do ! chee-do ! tree-de-re de-re, de-re ! "
and then down on the ground it goes again.

The plain meaning of this, I take it, is that the chirps
are not a song, nor are they intended by the bird as such,
but that the more elaborate notes, uttered when in a bush
or tree, do constitute his song, and this he sings for the
gratification of himself and friends.

Again, observe two birds immediately after mating,
and what a laughable caricature of a newly-married cou-
ple— say on their wedding journey — are their actions and
their low ceaseless twittering ! They also have their
petty vexations and their little quarrels, in which the
feminine voice is ever the louder and more rapid in its
utterance, and its owner enjoys the precious privilege of
the last word.

I have often witnessed such quarrels, and the literally
hen-pecked husband has always been compelled to sub-
mit to his tyrannical partner. If he be lazy, woe betide
him when nest-building commences, as it does so soon
after mating. His gay feathers will soon lose their
prim appearance, and mayhap only the fraction of a tail

14:2 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

will be left him, but, in spite of all this, he will cheer his
brooding mate with his choicest songs ; singing, I have
sometimes thought, with greater fervor from the con-
sciousness that his wife is too busy at home to bother
him.

But what has all this to do with language ? Just this,
that it depends on the manner in which things go on
between the birds, whether the chirps and twitters are
low, musical, and deliberately uttered, or whether they
are shrill, cacophonous, and so rapidly repeated that the
birds, if unseen, can not be recognized by their voices.

But it may be urged that, to constitute language, or
something akin to it, these chirps and twitters must be
shown to convey ideas. Can one bird tell another any-
thing ? it will be asked. To this I answer that, if any one
has watched a colony of brooding grakles, or paid close
attention to a flock of crows, he has probably satisfied
himself upon this point. Crows have twenty-seven dis-
tinct cries, calls, or utterances, each readily distinguishable
from the other, and each having an unmistakable con-
nection with a certain class of actions ; some of which, as,
for instance, the many different notes of the brooding-
birds, are only heard at certain seasons. In this connec-
tion, it may be added that the intelligence of crows is
fully one half greater than that of any other bird in our
fauna. Instances of the exercise of much cunning and

O

forethought on their part are almost innumerable.

Let us see, however, if among our singing-birds there
is not to be found evidence of an ability to communicate
ideas, presumably by the aid of vocal sounds. Here is
an occurrence that took place in my presence in the
spring of 1872. A pair of cat-birds were noticed carry-
ing materials for a nest to a patch of blackberry-briers
hard by. To test their ingenuity, I took a long, narrow

THE SONGS OF BIRDS. 143

strip of muslin, too long for one bird to carry conven-
iently, and placed it on the ground in a position to be
seen by the birds when searching for suitable materials
for their nest. In a few moments one of the cat-birds
spied the strip and endeavored to carry it off, but its
length and weight, in whichever way the bird took hold
of it, and he tried many, impeded its flight. After wor-
rying over it for some time the bird flew off, not, as I
supposed, to seek other materials, but, as it proved, to ob-
tain assistance in transporting the strip of muslin in ques-
tion. In a few moments it returned with its mate, and
then, standing near the strip, they held what I consider
to have been a consultation. The chirping, twittering,
murmuring, and occasional ejaculations were all unmis-
takable. In a few moments this chattering, if you will,
ceased, and the work commenced. Each took hold of the
strip of muslin at about the same distance from the ends,
and, starting exactly together, they flew toward their un-
finished nest, bearing the prize successfully away.

I followed them as quickly as possible, and, reaching
the brier-patch, never before or since heard such an in-
terminable wrangling and jabbering. Had I not seen
the birds, I doubt if I should have recognized them
from their voices. The poor birds simply could not
agree how to use so long a piece of material to the best
advantage. If it had been shorter, they might have made
it serviceable ; but as it was, being neither willing to dis-
card it nor able to agree as to its proper use, they finally
abandoned it altogether, and so too they did the unfin-
ished nest and the neighborhood.

From what has been said, I can not see how birds can
logically be denied language. A hundred instances sim-
ilar to this in the essential details occur every spring day,
and they all prove that a bird has some means of commu-

14A RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

nicating its thoughts to its companions ; and, as we know
that they have a large range of utterances, is it not pre-
sumable that these are in large part the media by which
their thoughts are expressed ? We can only judge by the
same standard which we apply to man, and, when so
judged, it must I think be admitted that birds have a
spoken language.

We have also seen that these various utterances are
only expressed when the bird is occupied, and that their
songs proper are only sung when the bird is quiet or giv-
ing its whole attention to the act of singing, for the fact
that they often sing while flying does not contradict this ;
and these facts, it is believed, are sufficient to show that
birds, like mankind, sing for pleasure and talk from ne-
cessity.

My own observations have led me to this conclusion.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHATS AND WKENS : A SUMMERS STUDY.

I FIEST saw the chat on Sunday, May 9, 1874. From
the topmost branch of a tall locust he sailed, with unsteady
wings and dangling legs, upward and outward for some
distance, uttering a few harsh squeaks, and then alighting,
he warbled a series of sweet, liquid notes, followed in turn
by sounds like the yelp of a puppy, the squeak of a squir-
rel, or the dull creaking of a rusty weather-vane. Then,
hopping from twig to twig, searching for insects, he added
his own peculiar chirp, alternated with low yet distinct
notes, quite indescribable, but all hollow, ghost-like, and
gloomy. These weird, mournful groans, plaintive calls,
and cries as of some poor creature in distress, would fol-
low each other in quick succession, when, suddenly ceas-
ing, an outburst of glorious melody would complete the
strange series. Then, having regained his perch upon the
topmost branch, the restless bird would remain quiet for
a moment, when, with the same awkward, crooked flight,
he would repeat the same series of strange and sweet notes,
with some little variation of the uncouth sounds he se-
lected for imitation.

While I listened, wondering what next would greet
my ears, I was surprised, even startled, by hearing the
same strange sounds repeated, but at some distance off.
Another chat, farther down the path, was singing in the
same strange way — another it must be, for the one first
7

146 KAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

heard is still in sight on the same locust-tree, flitting care-
lessly about and apparently silent. Curious to hear the
new-comer, I passed on, when the sounds were heard in
the opposite direction. I retraced my steps, and now the
strange medley came from the low bushes about me, and,
while looking carefully for the unseen chat that seemed
so near, there came floating down to me from the tall
locust's topmost branch the same series of odd sounds and
sweet warblings. The truth was now clear : the one bird
had uttered every sound I had heard, and by his ventrilo-
quism had for the time completely deceived me. My
study of this habit and its use now commenced, and for
long weeks I watched him, to test in every way his ability
to mislead one by the exercise of this peculiar power.
On the 13th of the month, a second chat appeared, and the
two — for the new-comer was a female — quickly selected
a suitable spot in a tangled mass of blackberry briers at
the foot of the locust-tree, and built a commodious but
roughly constructed nest. While his mate was sitting, the
male chat seemed more animated than ever, and, jealous
of every intruder, he " threw his voice " in eveiy direction
other than toward the nest whenever any one came too
near. On concealing myself and getting very close, I
found, by watching for an hour or more at a time, that
when undisturbed they uttered fewer cries of other crea-
tures, and seldom exercised their ventriloquial powers.
Their song was varied and at times grand, but usually
the cheerful notes were so intermingled with hollow, se-
pulchral tones, not of an imitative character, as to render
the entire utterance far from pleasing. I never could so
startle the bird that it would simply give a quick chirp
of alarm and fly off. However suddenly I appeared from
my concealment, there was an equally quick uttering of
notes of distress such as I have described, coming from,

CHATS AND WRENS.

it seemed, a point several yards distant. Vary my exper-
iments as I would, it mattered not : the bird was thor-
oughly conscious of its ventriloquial power, and trusted
far more to it than to flight to avoid and mislead any
intruder.

How came this bird to possess so unusual a power ?
This I shall leave for others to determine, with this one
suggestion : having closely 'observed a pair of these birds
during the entire summer, I discovered that the habit is
eminently useful to them, and is, I think, possessed by
the male only, though upon this point I am not positively
certain.

When it is recollected that many of our birds — nota-
bly the mocking-bird and cat-bird — mimic not only the
notes of other songsters, but sounds of almost every de-
scription, and that perhaps all gregarious birds post senti-
nels to sound alarm on the approach of an enemy, it is
evident that all the vocal powers of birds are not brought
into play simply for their own satisfaction or for that of
their mates; for there is a wide difference between a
bird's song and its ordinary chirping and twittering.
During the lapse of ages they have learned, through ex-
perience, something of the laws of sound, and they know
fully as well as man does that certain notes can be heard
at a greater distance than others. This is shown by the
fact that birds, when giving an alarm-cry, utter the note
with a penetrating shrillness, not common in any of their
ordinary chirps or song. This knowledge of one of the
properties of sound, simple as it is, is the starting-point
in the acquirement of the power of mimicry, which is
the intermediate stage between ordinary vocal utterances,
including songs, and that ventriloquial power which we
have seen is possessed in great perfection by the chat.

Now, as this bird imitates very many sounds, it seems

148 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

clear that the simple power of mimicry must have been
first gained, and that the ventriloquial power, or the
power to repeat a sound so as to make it seem as if it
were uttered somewhere else, was a subsequent acquisition.
Such an addition to the power of mimicking other birds
and the cries of small mammals would at once prove
advantageous in misleading a pursuing enemy, as, for
instance, a small hawk ; and the chat would not be slow
to learn this, and to profit by the knowledge. In this
way a new habit readily becomes characteristic of a spe-
cies, first locally, and then throughout the entire extent
of its haunts.

A word in* conclusion concerning the vocal powers
of the chat. While it is true that these birds sing a good
deal by day, yet it is not until after sunset and during
the night, especially if there be a moon, that they are
merriest ; and a more joyous strain never came from the
bobolink than that which is then uttered by the chats.
But, alas ! this melody is so often spoiled by a comming-
ling of mournful sounds, that it is not surprising the
Indians should have called them the " ghost-birds."

About the middle of June the young birds had left
the nest, though they still continued with the parent
birds, and were fed by them. From this time until
August, when both old and young left the neighborhood,
I failed to detect any attempt even at singing on the part
of the young ; and the more marked features of the song
of the parent birds were but seldom heard after the young
had obtained a sufficient flight-power to insure their
safety. This would seem to lead to the inference that
both the mimicry and the ventriloquism were exercised
by the male for the purpose of securing safety to the
young and to the female while upon her nest ; as the
occasional exhibitions of song on his arrival in spring

CHATS AND WRENS. 149

were, I suppose, given at first for his own satisfaction,
and afterward, when the females had arrived, these tests
of his power were intended for their gratification.

Let us now consider a very different bird — one not
common in New Jersey, or, at least, very " local " in its
distribution.

About the middle of July, when most birds had long
finished their nesting-labors, a pair of Bewick's wrens
appeared in and about one of my out-buildings, and, in
a day or two, having fixed upon a suitable spot, began
to build their nest. As they were not at this time at
all timid, I had abundant opportunities of watching them
while so employed, and I must admit that there was
nothing poetical in their modus operandi. After the
first few strands of long, tape-like grass had been arranged
upon a beam, the birds came to the spot together, each
carrying a blade of grass or other equally flexible material.
The female then sat in the unfinished nest, arranging the
materials, while her mate brought others, some of which
he apparently wound loosely about her. This continued
until the foundation and sides were completed. When
finishing off the nest the female remained in and about
it, while her mate was in quest of such soft materials as
he could find. These were simply laid in the bottom of
the nest, and received no special attention until a consid-
erable quantity had been piled up, when the female bur-
rowed into it, and, as I judged, kept turning round and
round in it, until she had succeeded in making a com-
paratively smooth depression in it, just fitted to her body.
The larger strands on the outside, which had heretofore
appeared of no use, were now rudely twisted into the
sides of the nest and carried up until they formed a sort
of arch, scarcely close enough to form a roof, or to make
of the entire structure a globular nest, like that of the

150 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

marsh-wren. In three days the work was completed,
and was not better than any child could have made with
the same material, wrapping, winding, and fitting them
over his fist. Not one particle of ingenuity was displayed
at any time. On the fourth day the first egg was laid,
and on this day a cat succeeded in catching the male
bird. As the female did not seem to miss him very
much, and as it was this mishap that made the subsequent
study of the nest and female bird possible, I did not ob-
ject to the interference. The widowed wren wandered
about quite as usual, constantly uttering a very cheery
chirp, and gathering up a goodly quantity of insects
every day. One egg was laid each day, until four had
been deposited, when she commenced sitting. The fourth
egg was pure white, the others of the usual color and
markings. An interesting physiological question here
arises which may be briefly referred to. This species of
wren usually lays from seven to nine eggs, and hatches
them all. Did, in this case of the widowed wren, the
influence of the male only reach to the third or possibly
the fourth egg ? Of the four eggs laid, the last did not
hatch, and I judged from its contents that the yolk had
been imperfect. Again, did the death of the male bird
indirectly cause the shell of the fourth egg laid to be
wholly colorless ? The season was too far advanced to
make any additional observations, and I may add further-
more that this is the only instance I ever knew of a bird
continuing to sit after the death of her mate.

After the young wrens were but a day old, the parent
bird was seldom seen except for a moment at a time,
when she would dart into the outbuilding through a knot-
hole in one of the weather-boards, with a supply of food
for her young. Then off she would go again, usually to
the low roof of an adjoining building, and there would

CHATS AND WEENS. 151

chirp most shrilly if any one happened to be near, flutter-
ing the while in a most distressed manner, as though de-
termined to make those who might be passing believe
that she had a nest up on the roof, or anywhere, except in
the spot where it really was. This habit was so marked
as to attract the attention of the members of my family ;
and, if the out-building — a work-shop which was continu-
ally visited during the day — happened to have any person
in it when she arrived with food for her young, she would
dart back as rapidly as she came in, and go through her
accustomed antics on an adjoining building, while still
retaining the food. By the middle of August, the young,
although but scantily feathered, had left the nest, and in
a day or two, old and young departed from the neighbor-
hood.

The song of the Bewick's wren is very fine and more
melodious than that of the common house-wren. There
is not in it, however, or in any of the various utterances
of the female, any trace of mimicry or ventriloquism, and
when I saw the anxious wren labor with both voice and
body, and with all her might, to make her supposed ene-
mies believe her painfully acted and harshly uttered lie,
I could not but recall the advantage of the chat, in being
able to remain comfortably at home, and send his voice
on an errand, whenever and wherever it seemed neces-
sary.

With reference to this wren's nest, it may be said that
this species usually builds a very commodious and neat
structure in a concealed spot, and not, as in this case, on
the top of a window-frame, in full view, like a peewee's.
It was really an instance of what is often seen in nest-
building, carelessness and laziness on the part of the
builders. In my studies of birds' nests, I have found ex-
posed positions chosen, because the twigs and branches

152 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

grew in such a manner as to lessen the labor of building.
Thus we see that, while some birds are " smart," others
are less so, and that not a few have their weaknesses, just
as is so often the case in man. All of which, I think, is
a strong argument in favor of the theory that the mental
powers of birds are identical with those of man, differing
only in degree.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE CAROLINA WEEN: A YEAR OF ITS LIFE.

EARLY in the morning of September 1, 1882, as I was
passing near the stable, my attention was called to the
shrill notes of an excited little bird that, darting from the
building, alighted on the fence near by and screamed
Jimmee, Jimmee, Jimmee, so loudly, that every James in
the township should have hastened thither. ~No response
came, and again the call, a clear, penetrating whistle, was
repeated. This continued at brief intervals for two or
three minutes, and then, as quickly as it came, the bird
flew back to the stable, entering through a knot-hole in a
weather-board with such rapidity of movement that I
could but marvel at its dexterity.

Half an hour later I saw this same bird again, coming
from the stable through the same knot-hole, and this time
it sang as loudly, impatiently, and frequently as before,
but the notes were different. It said, or seemed to say,
tsaii-re-ta, tsau-re-ta, tsaure-ta. Had I not seen the
bird I should have recognized it by a peculiarity in its
song, which was never wanting, whatever might be the
particular notes it uttered. My attention being called to
this little bird — the Carolina wren (or mocking wren of
authors) — I determined forthwith to study its habits as
opportunity presented, for the little that I found recorded
of it is far from satisfactory.

What might be the attraction in the stable was my

154: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

first object to determine, for I did not suppose it had a
nest so late in the season, and I had not noticed the bird
particularly during the summer months, although I knew
they were in the neighborhood. A protracted search
failed, indeed, in finding any nest ; but while I was wan-
dering about I was surprised to see the wren enter the
building and proceed immediately to search for spiders,
which hitherto were abundant in every nook and cor-
ner, but now were comparatively scarce. Once the bird
alighted upon the back of a horse standing in its stall, and
while there quietly preened its feathers, as much as a
wren ever deigns to do this, and then, with a shrill chirp
that startled the animal, away it flew in search of more
spiders.

Late in the afternoon of the same day I again saw the
wren enter the stable and pass directly through the mow-
hole to the hay-loft overhead. I followed and found
that the bird had taken possession of a barn-swallow's
nest, and here it was keeping bachelor's hall. The nest
was placed against a rafter, near the peak of the roof,
and was quite inaccessible to cats. This probably the
wren did not consider. It is a sly cat that ever catches
a wren napping. The bird did not like my discovering
his hiding-place, or at least was annoyed by my inquisi-
tiveness. It circled about me several times, snapping its
beak I thought, and chirped an unusually emphatic tsip,
which I took to be the wrennish for " damn."

All through the mellow September days, early and
late, the clear notes of this wren were to be heard, and
through October, and long after every summer songster
had departed, I heard them daily and many times a day.

During the autumn there was little to note with re-
gard to the bird's habits. The insects in the stable and
outbuildings afforded it a sufficient food supply, but dur-

THE CAROLINA WREN. 155

ing exceptionally warm and sunny days it made frequent
visits to a wooded slope near by, and there, among the
giant oaks and chestnuts, it seemed more lively and full
of song than when nearer home.

A few words with reference to the character of its
song. Every utterance is sharply defined by a peculiar-
ity that belongs only to this bird. I think I should know
the bird by its voice wherever I might hear it.

Again, while the bird has a great variety of notes, I
believe I have never heard it mingle these various utter-
ances. It may chance to whistle jimmee or tsau-re-ta or
phoe-do, but it never follows one with the other. It is
in all cases a repetition of the notes it first utters. Thus
I once recorded its song as uttered during ten minutes.
Its notes then were phoedo, phoe-do, phoe-do phee ! with
a rest of some five to ten seconds — then repeated ; and
this continued without any variation until the notes as
here given had been uttered sixty-four times. As the
bird was about commencing the sixty-fifth repetition it
was frightened and flew off. A half hour later the bird
took up its position on a hop-vine pole and sang the
notes represented by the syllables tsau-re-ta forty-seven
times, with intervals of about five seconds between each
utterance.

I find it very generally stated that this wren is a
"mocker," imitating many of our common songsters.
Evidences of this have never come under my notice.
Carefully as I have listened to this wren for a year, I have
never heard a note that I should consider as not its own,
and not borrowed. It is not safe, however, to conclude
that it does not mimic other birds, because the one I have
studied failed to do so. One's observations must cover a
wider range of territory, and extend over many years, be-
fore it is safe to be positive in the matter of the habits

156 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of birds. Only recently I read a most painful account of
the many dangers to which birds nesting in the valley of
the Hudson River are exposed. According to the writer
but very few broods are successfully reared. Happily,
here in the Delaware Valley the birds are more fortunate,
and a failure is the exception, not the rule. So, too, it
may be with the songs of birds. My Carolina wrens do
not mimic, but perhaps my neighbor's do.

At the onset of winter, which in 1882 was late in
November, the wren seemed unusually active, and sang
even more frequently than during the sunny days of
early autumn. At this time the characteristic tyrannical
temper of the wren tribe showed itself. My wren had
pre-empted the immediate vicinity of the stable, barn,
and other out-buildings, and woe betide any trespasser ;
snow-birds, sparrows, titmice, and even blue-jays were
promptly warned off by the little tyrant. If they ques-
tioned his authority it was only to their sorrow. So it
proved the long winter through. No other birds came
near to stay. Spider-hunting, fighting, and singing oc-
cupied all its moments, and, I am told, it was often heard
to whistle late in the night. Probably it was dreaming,
which is not to be wondered at, considering the activity
of the bird's brain when awake.

Thus for six months this bird lived quite alone. It
certainly never wandered far at any one time. It was
seen at too short intervals for this. But if lonely it was
not morose, and to all appearance throve admirably from
September to March.

From March to September it lived another life. As
early as the Yth it appeared upon the scene with a com-
panion. The two were very noisy and demonstrative.
I could not detect much evidence of affection, and at
times their actions were strongly suggestive of quarreling.

THE CAROLINA WREN. 157

This, however, did not last long. In the course of a week
they had settled all their little differences, and hunted
the spiders in the out-buildings, and early insects every-
where, in company. The song of the male bird was now
more varied and frequent, yet never with a trace of
mimicry of the notes of other birds. Its song in volume
exceeded even the clear whistle of the cardinal grosbeak,
and could be heard distinctly for half a mile during a
still morning.

March 18th was a pleasant, spring-like day, and an
early Maryland yellow-throat was singing merrily. This
drew me out of doors, and I noticed directly that the
Carolina wrens had commenced nest-building. Both birds
were busy carrying long grass, strips of inner bark of
shrubs, and an odd thread or two that were found near
by. One bird examined the clothes-line carefully, but
could not succeed in unraveling any portion.

Following the wrens, I found they had located on the
upper surface of one of the plates of the frame of the
barn. The nest was directly under the roof, and quite
filled the space between the upper surface of the plate
and the shingles, about six inches. The nest, when com-
pleted except the lining, was quite a foot in length. It
was, in fact, a mere shapeless mass of loose material.
Into this the female wren burrowed and remained most
of the time, while the male bird brought softer fibers and
chicken feathers. With these the cavity was lined and
the nest completed.

March 24th an egg was laid, and another each day
until the 29th, when the hen commenced sitting. Dur-
ing the days that followed, the male bird was very active
in supplying his mate with food, and took his turn in
caring for the eggs, but evidently under protest ; this I
conclude from the super-merry songs he uttered on being

158 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

relieved. Indeed it is a marvel to me that even a female
wren can sit still. They have such nervous tempera-
ments that an entire change of nidification, whereby solar
heat could be depended upon, would, no doubt, be hailed
by them with joy.

Five young birds were hatched April 9th. When twen-
ty days old they were able to fly, and had left the nest and
apparently their parents. I saw them, evidently shifting
for themselves, two days later, when they disappeared.
May 14th the old birds were again building a nest, this
time in another building, but in a similar position. The
structure was identical in shape and size, but differed in
being largely lined with snake-skins. It was completed
by May 20th, and a week later seven eggs had been laid,
and June 7th six eggs were hatched. The young were
on the wing July 1st. July 15th a third nest was found
nearly completed. Five eggs were laid by the 23d, and
on August 8th the young birds of the third brood had
appeared. These could fly by the 26th of the month,
and had left the nest and the neighborhood by the 30th.

It is now a few days more than a year since my atten-
tion was particularly called to the single Carolina wren
that frequented the stable. During the past twelve
months it was closely watched, and every habit noted.
When I was absent others observed it for me, and nothing
of importance escaped attention. While I am writing
these concluding lines, I can hear the bird singing merrily
as it sits upon the top of the hop-vine pole, of late its
favorite perch. While listening to its song it is a proper
time to sum up the results of what I have seen and heard.
As a songster it ranks very high and its utterances arc
all original. As a spider-hunter it is as active as any of
the family of wrens. As a courageous foe of the English
sparrows it is a blessing to the community.

CHAPTEK XYIII.

DO SWALLOWS HEBEKNATE ?

IN the year 1750, Peter Kalm, the Swedish naturalist,
made the following entry in his journal, during a brief
sojourn in Southern New Jersey : " I observed the barn-
swallows for the first time on the 10th of April [new
style] ; the next day in the morning, I saw great numbers
of them sitting on posts and planks, and they were as wet
as if they had been just come out of the sea." On a sub-
sequent page, he remarks : " The people differed here in
their opinions about the abode of swallows in winter ;
most of the Swedes thought that they lay at the bottom
of the sea ; some, with the English and the French in
Canada, thought that they migrate to the southward in
autumn, and return in spring. I have likewise been
credibly informed in Albany that they have been found
sleeping in deep holes and clefts of rocks during winter."
Furthermore, it is well to say that John Reinhold Forster,
the accomplished translator of Kalm's travels, adds, in a
foot-note, a series of well-attested instances of swallows
having been found hibernating in the mud at the bottoms
of lakes : among these instances he mentions Dr. Wal-
lerius, a celebrated Swedish chemist, who affirmed that he
had " seen more than once, swallows assembling on a reed,
till they were all immersed and went to the bottom ; this
being preceded by a dirge of a quarter of an hour's
length." Commenting upon the above and like instances,

160 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Mr. Forster is led to conclude that in countries as cold as
Sweden " swallows immerse in the sea, in lakes and rivers,
and remain in a torpid state, under ice, during winter ; "
and that some English swallows, and some in Germany,
"retire into clefts and holes in rocks," while in Spain,
Italy, and France, that they are strictly migratory birds.

That our American swallows are strictly migratory
birds, I have no doubt ; and it would never have occurred
to me to consider the subject of their hibernation other
than a mere fancy, had not an excellent American orni-
thologist stated recently that this alleged submarine hiber-
nation was physically and physiologically feasible. This
assertion is too hasty, and is not warranted by known laws
of life. Having been made, however, and a semi-assent
to the alleged habit of hibernation being thus given by
an authority in ornithological science, it behooves the
naturalist to determine how great an amount of truth
there is in the statements, so frequently and forcibly made,
of the persons claiming to have witnessed actions on the
part of swallows, indicative of hibernation commenced,
and of the discovery of swallows in conditions indicative
of hibernation in progress.

Believing this supposed habit to be really a miscon-
ception of movements on the part of swallows, to be lik-
ened in some measure to the rolling habit of the mythical
hoop-snake, I have taken every available opportunity,
since 1878, to observe the movements of the several spe-
cies of swallows that frequent my neighborhood, with
the hope of determining what habits obtained among
them that might possibly have given rise to the world-
wide impression that swallows not only hibernate but
even deliberately bury themselves in mud at the bottoms
of lakes and rivers.

The species of swallow that I have had opportunity

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 161

of carefully studying for the past three years are the bank-
swallow, the cliff-swallow, the barn-swallow, and lastly the
swallow-like swift, universally known as the chimney-
swallow.

I do not propose to give here an extended account of
the habits of these four species of well-known birds, but
to relate the occurrences that I have witnessed, which
seemed to bear upon the question. These birds I will
treat of in the order named.

Probably the most abundant of all our swallows is that
known as the bank-swallow, a name derived from the habit
of building its nest in the steep faces of earth-banks, when
they are of such composition or structure that these birds
can safely burrow into them to a depth of several feet.
I say " safely," for if the earth be too yielding, and the
sides liable to crumble, then the bank will be abandoned.
In every instance that has come under my notice the cho-
sen banks or escarpments occupied by a colony of bank-
swallows had a southern exposure, and directly fronting
it, and never so far distant as to be out of sight, there
was either a pond, a creek, or the river itself. Now this
association of water and the colonies of bank-swallows is
important.

Least susceptible to changes of weather, and depend-
ent upon food more than temperature, the bank-swal-
low is the earliest of the family to appear in spring, and
the last to disappear late in autumn. The alleged hiber-
nation is a habit that concerns us only at such times of the
year — in early spring, when they leave their muddy
couches after prolonged slumber, and in autumn when
they seek these submarine retreats.

Like all, or nearly all, migratory birds, the bank-swal-
lows return in early spring to their haunts of the preced-
ing summer. When I have first noted their return, often

162 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

as early as the 10th of March, they were either flying to
and fro over the water in front of the site of their nests
of last year, or flying in and out of the old burrows, in-
specting their condition, but not preparing for the coming
duties of incubation. Thus early in the spring, their flight
is not as continued as it is a month later. Apparently they
have not recovered from the fatigue of their migratorial
journey, and they rest in small companies, not upon trees,
but, I may say, exclusively either at the openings of the
subterranean nests, or upon sticks, dead trees, and vegeta-
tion projecting from the water. Now add the very im-
portant fact that the amount of food to be found by these
swallows, thus early in the season, is very limited — being
confined to a few hardy insects that are then astir if the
sun is shining — and it becomes evident that, from an insuf-
ficient supply of food, their vigorous flight power of mid-
summer will be visibly affected.

Add to this the depressing influences of cold rain-
storms, which they do not endeavor to avoid, and we
have causes sufficient to explain the well-attested fact
that these swallows are at this time of the year often to
be seen, as Kalm described those he saw in 1750, " as
wet as if they had been just come out of the sea."

Let me now mention the details of an incident of this
kind. On the 17th of March, 1878, the weather for a
week previously having been fairly pleasant for the time
of year, a few swallows were seen ; it rained very hard
until about noon, when it cleared suddenly, the wind
shifting to the northwest. I started out for a short ram-
ble in search of Indian relics, and, passing by the bluff
that for years had been frequented by bank-swallows, I
was attracted by the incessant but feeble twitterings of
numbers of these birds ; none were to be seen. I looked
for them for some time, and finally found a hundred or

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 163

more sitting upon the top rail of a section of half-sub-
merged fence in the marshy meadow facing the cliff. Ap-
proaching as near as I could, I found them unable, or, at
least, indisposed to fly ; and finally, getting to them,
found them thoroughly soaked, and readily taken by the
hand. Those that endeavored to escape fell into the
water, and were lost in the dead bulrushes that projected
above its surface. I presume that many were drowned.
My explanation of the occurrence is this : they were in-
sect hunting when the storm commenced, and, taking
refuge upon the fence, they were awaiting the slow pro-
cess of drying of feathers, by exposure to the wind and
the fitful sunshine. This accomplished they would have
been themselves again. On the other hand, had I not
seen these swallows previously, there was every reason to
lead me to suppose that they had suddenly appeared
from some near-at-hand hiding-place, where they had
been quietly at rest during the winter just closed ; and
had any one following in my footsteps found the poor
struggling birds that I had caused to fall into the water,
then natural, indeed, would it have been to suppose that
from the water itself had emerged these chilled and help-
less birds at the first breath of spring !

Now, on the 19th of March, 1880, there was a cold
storm, with both snow and rain. Two days previously I
had seen two bank - swallows. Thinking that others
might be about, and desirious of seeing them during a
rain, I went to the cliff near my house, but saw nothing
of them. Lingering about the place for some time, I
finally saw three emerge from holes in the cliff, and, after
fluttering about a short time (the rain had then stopped),
they alighted on a stake projecting from the water, where
they remained -fully ten minutes. The rain commencing
again to fall, one flew away, and went, I think, to the

164: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

cliff ; the others flew to the same fence, where I had seen
scores of them two years before, and sat near together
facing the wind, just as pigeons will arrange themselves
on the peak of the roof of a barn during a rain-storm in
summer.

In this case, these two swallows certainly became
thoroughly wetted, and had they been found later, when
the storm was over, would doubtless have presented the
appearance of being " as wet as if they had been just
come out of the sea."

How easy it is to be misled by appearances in this
matter of studying bird-life ! Had I not known that
swallows had been flying for days before I found these
wet, bedraggled, storm-beaten birds, I could fairly have
claimed that my own experience fully confirmed the
opinions of others, that swallows not only migrate, but
remain in mud-encased beds at the bottoms of our ponds,
creeks, and rivers ; but until swallows are first heard sing-
ing their farewell dirge, as Dr. "Wallerius describes, then
seen to sink into the mud, and are then promptly resur-
rected, before a cloud of witnesses, it will be safe to as-
sert that what many have seen is susceptible of another
explanation than voluntary submergence in the mud of
our water-courses. Furthermore, it can be safely asserted,
I think, that bank-swallows return year after year to their
haunts of previous summers. A New York, or Con-
necticut, or Massachusetts colony of these birds, will not
reach its haunt of last summer as early as will the New
Jersey colonies reach theirs.

Although the recent observations of Mr. Scott at
Princeton, New Jersey, conclusively show that migration
customarily takes place at any night when it is moon-
light, it does not necessarily show that migration at night
is the common habit of all birds that migrate. Indeed,

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 165

it is impossible to believe that, however brilliant the
moonlight may be, any bird could distinguish, at the ele-
vation of a mile or more, the limited area of its former
summer haunts, the particular thicket in which it nested
the foregoing summer ; or, in the case of swallows, the
little bluff wherein a colony had had their subterranean
summer homes. The most that can be claimed is their
recognition of the particular river valley wherein they
have been accustomed to spend the summer. Granting
this, if they migrated at night, then it is early in the
morning after their arrival that we should expect to see
them resting in scattered numbers after their journey ;
and when thus wearied from a protracted flight, and
damped with the dews that have bathed surrounding
Nature, they might well present the appearance of hav-
ing arisen from the waters beneath, rather than fallen
from the clouds above.

Continuing our consideration of these bank-swallows,
let us now pass to the time of their annual disappearance,
late in autumn, or at the onset of winter. Two condi-
tions cause the change of habitation, or, at least, the dis-
appearance from their summer haunts — a much lower
temperature, and absence of insects, their only food.
Now, severe frosts often occur in October, or they may
be delayed until November, but this alone does not de-
cide the movements of the swallows ; for often they have
wholly disappeared before October, and then a year may
pass, with flitting swallows skimming o'er the lea, un-
daunted by the chill November fogs. The supposed
regularity of their comings and goings is not applicable
to their New Jersey haunts, however it may be in more
northern localities.

What, therefore, I have seen of their movements in
autumn that has possible bearing upon alleged hiberna-

166 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

tion is, first, the effect of age. Now, it is as evident as
that birds grow old, that, in due course of time, these mi-
gratory swallows will reach that condition of decrepitude
when they can make their migratory journey from South
to North, or vice versa, for the last time. In such case,
there must necessarily be a large number that are left
behind, when the main body depart each year, unless it can
be shown that these aged birds die in the course of the sum-
mer at the North, or during their winter sojourn in the
South. Both statements are true. The result of a sum-
mer's study of a colony of bank-swallows revealed the fact
that a number of old unpaired swallows flitted feebly
about the bluff, but never appeared to wander far from it.
They were often seen sitting at the openings of the nests
in the cliff, and were taken for young birds. They were
not fed by old birds having young to look after, and
fared scantily on such insects as they caught by their own
exertions. Early in August I found many lying dead,
both in the burrowings and at the foot of the cliff. Ex-
amination proved that they all were old birds. In au-
tumn, about October 1st, the main body of the colony
largely frequent the weedy marshes, and seem to be for-
ever on the wing, insect-catching, as they move in an
endless labyrinth of curves over the quiet waters. I
have seen thousands of them thus engaged, far from their
nesting haunts. Occasionally they would alight upon
tall reeds and objects projecting above the water, and
twitter without ceasing. Then, as by a signal, these
thousands would rise together from their resting places,
and mounting to an unusal elevation fly away, to return
no more that season.

These birds were associated colonies on their southern
migration ; but there were still left a few of those who
had here spent a joyous, gleesome summer. The lame,

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 167

the weak, the blind, and the unburied dead of that avian
city still remained ; and what a mournful spectacle they
offered ! painfully so in themselves, and the more impres-
sive when the thoughtless, glittering throng of a few
days past was vividly recalled.

Cheered for the time by the mellow sunlight that
beamed upon them, the aged, half -helpless swallows, whose
wings still responded to the will languidly, chased the few
remaining insects flitting over the weedy waters. Others,
venturing less far, caught, with what skill they could com-
mand, the chilled and drooping flies that sought refuge
from the cold winds in these safe, snug harbors in the
cliff. Indeed, this shelter-seeking flight of insect-life, that
now teems about these deserted nests of the departed
swallows, proves a veritable godsend to those poor birds
that, from whatsoever cause, are fated to remain, if it be
a blessing to prolong a joyless existence during a few brief
weeks in autumn. But the importance of this sad phase
of swallow-life as bearing upon our subject remains to be
stated. Notwithstanding their weakness, the desire or
instinct to migrate still remains, and when pressed more
than usual by sudden accession of cold, or by scarcity of
food, numbers of those that remain will collect as of yore,
on the rushes and reeds about the water, and often com-
mence their protracted flight toward their winter haunts.
Many straggling swallows doubtless wander miles before
finally succumbing to the weakness of age, though they
never wander far from water, but migrate in their accus-
tomed course, which is always coastwise, down a river
valley. When their course is finished they are found
in the track of the hardy multitude that have passed
successfully onward. Here, yielding to the severity of
the increasing cold, they find watery graves beneath the
nodding plumes of the russet grasses over which, in days

168 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

gone by, they had flitted without fatigue, thoughtless of
the morrow.

Such swallows I have seen, year after year, and it was
to them that Dr. Wallerius referred when he said that they
assembled on a reed " till they were all immersed, and
went to the bottom ; this being preceded by a dirge of a
quarter of an hour's length."

Intelligible, therefore, as I consider the movements of
swallows to be, in so far as these might give the impression
of hibernation beneath the water, it is not by the same
observations that I have here recorded that the asserted
finding of torpid swallows during the winter, encased in
mud, can be explained.

The mere finding of swallows in the mud is of itself
nothing strange, although the chances of their escaping
the attacks of the turtles and carnivorous fishes is very
small ; but to find them alive, in such positions, is a dif-
ferent matter, and at once recalls the probability of the
assertion that I have questioned, that it is physically and
physiologically feasible for swallows to lie dormant under
water. If so, some great constitutional change must take
place, for swallows, throughout the summer, are readily
drowned, if held for even a minute under water ; and, if
their plumage is well soaked by repeated immersions, they
are helpless until thoroughly dry again. The structure
of their feathers, furthermore, is wholly unlike that of
aquatic birds, and therefore they can not resist the per-
vading action of the water, as do the oily, close-set feath-
ers of the ducks and divers.

Again, if torpid swallows are encased in mud, be-
neath a considerable depth of water, by what means can
the reviving influences of returning spring reach them ?
Whether in mid-winter or in genial April days, the mud
at the bottoms of our ponds is of nearly uniform temper-

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 169

ature, and certainly does not vary so much as to start, by
its added warmth, the life-pulses of swallows that for five
or six long months have ceased to beat ; and why should
these unfortunates remain thus beneath chilled and often
ice-locked waters, when, in the mellow sunshine above,
other and wiser swallows of their kind flit and twitter as
of yore, having happily chosen migration rather than
submergence ?

But the testimony on this point is too explicit to war-
rant the belief that these witnesses could have been in
error. To show how readily people can be mistaken, let
me state a case :

A. B. has testified on oath as follows : " Early in
April, 1836, as I was passing on foot down the Borden-
town road, near the drawbridge, I heard a loud hissing in
the bushes at my left, and, turning my head, saw a large,
checkered, black and white snake. It held its head well
up, and darted its tongue at me. I was a good deal
frightened and turned and ran, as I had heard of hoop-
snakes, and found I was chased by this snake and that it
was one. Luckily, I was running down hill, and covered
the ground pretty lively. Near the bridge, I jumped
behind a cedar-tree, and the snake passed me. It had its
tail in its mouth, and rolled along like a child's hoop,
only a great deal faster. It turned off at the creek, and
rolled into Crosswicks Creek, and then uncoiled, and
swam like any other snake."

Now, in this statement, made in good faith by a conr
scientious man, there is a curious admixture of truth and
misconception. Mr. A. B. admits that he has heard of
hoop-snakes, and, as they are reputed to be more deadly
than veritable rattle-snakes or copper-heads, it is very
natural that he should see, or simply think he sees, a
snake take its tail in its mouth and roll, hoop-like, down

170 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

the sandy road. This impression is always the more
vivid when the snake happens to take the same direction
in which the poor frightened person may happen to flee.
Now, if people are taught to expect to encounter any
given form of dangerous animal, in any neighborhood,
they are apt, when any creature having the similitude of
this mythical foe to humanity is seen, to endow it with all
direful attributes, and their distorted vision will convert
into a horrible monstrosity, and detect impossible capers
in a harmless and inoffensive creature.

Now, I have taken the trouble to question a certain
class of people concerning this hoop-snake, and I find it
is firmly believed in by hundreds, who affirm that they,
their parents, or some one of their friends had seen them,
been chased by them, or had indirectly captured them,
by suddenly darting behind a tree, when the snake would
uncoil, and, striking its tail into the tree, would be held
by it, and when in this position would be killed by the
person pursued.

Now, all of these statements are just as explicit as the
finding of dormant swallows in the mud ; yet, one and all,
they are absolutely false. If, therefore, the impression
is made on the minds of the young people of any commu-
nity that swallows hibernate in the mud, it will be diffi-
cult to rid them of the idea that any swallow that may
be found in, or even near water, is not indicative of the
truth that swallows do really pass the winter in such a
manner. Is this more unreasonable than that the belief
in hoop-snakes should be so common, even among other-
wise well-informed people ? If we can not explain this
impression that swallows hibernate in mud, and beneath
water too, in some such manner as I have endeavored to
make plain, then our only alternative is to exclaim, in de-
spair, " Lord ! Lord ! How this world is given to lying."

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE?

Let us turn now to a less abundant, but no less inter-
esting species, the cliff-swallow. This bird, instead of
burrowing into a. bank, builds an elaborate nest of mud
under the eaves of barns, along rocky ledges, and, in New
Jersey more frequently than elsewhere, on the beams sup-
porting the floors of bridges. Proximity to the water is
desirable evidently, but is not an essential condition of
the locality chosen for their nests. As in the case of the
bank-swallow, these birds also live in large communities,
and present much the same general features of swallow-
life.

The peculiarity of their nest, in being made of mud,
of course necessitates frequent visits to water, whence
they derive this material for their nests. Now, unlike
the bank-swallow, the cliff-swallow is a late arrival, and
no sooner here, tired as he must be, than he commences
the work of building a new nest or of repairing the old
one. In either case it is absolutely necessary that he
should dabble in the mud. Day in and day out, for a
week or more, his whole time seems spent in mixing mor-
tar by the water's side, and transporting it in little bits
to the nest. He is wet and bedraggled much of the
time ; and if a cold northeasterly rain sets in, as is so
often the case during the first week in May, then these
swallows are in a sorry plight indeed, and, suspending
building operations, they huddle about in numbers, twit-
tering mournfully, on the principle that misery loves
company. Such storms even sometimes prove fatal to
many of them, and they are more frequently found
dead near their nests than are individuals of any other
species. Find them, then, during a storm, or even notice
them, for the first time, when they are sitting on the
ground near the water, dripping wet at times, and the
impression you will have will be that of Kalm, that they

172 RAMBLES 'ABOUT HOME.

look " as if they had been just come out of the sea."
This impression, too, is increased from the fact that there
are no heralds of the northward-moving mass of swallows
of this kind. One and all, they come together. Yes-
terday, not one was to be seen ; to-day, the entire com-
munity are settled in their old haunts, and ready for
housekeeping. Their migrations are continued through
the night, and either by starlight or moonlight, as the
case may be, they are guided to their several haunts of
the preceding summer.

I am very positive that they arrive during the night,
and I lay unusual emphasis on this fact because the ap-
pearance of such a flight of swallows the morning follow-
ing their arrival would be apt to give an impression of
aquatic hibernation, if such an idea had ever been ex-
pressed in your hearing. Not the entire colony will im-
mediately seek the nests of the past summer, for there
will be many young birds who have as yet not built
nests, and there will also be birds yet to choose their
mates. Now, such birds will sit in long rows on tele-
graph wires, on fences, and, if the water be near, be very
sure that they will congregate about it. Thus congre-
gated about a pond early in the morning, perhaps after a
heavy dew, and you can readily see that they will be " as
wet as if they had been just come out of the sea ! "

In the reference made by Kalm to swallows, he speci-
fies the barn-swallow as being that which he saw on the
10th of April (new style), 1750, in a wet, spiritless condi-
tion, sitting on posts and planks. Now, in this case, we
have a species of swallow that differs greatly in its habits
from the preceding. While sociable, and willing that a
neighbor should dwell near by, they are by no means
gregarious ; and it is often observed that but a single nest
will be in a building, however large it may be. Unlike

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 173

the bank- or cliff-swallows, they are quite contented to
seek their food flitting over fields and about the build-
ings wherein are placed their nests. They are not to be
associated with water or its vicinity, any more than with
the driest stretches of dusty fields.

How, then, are we to explain the soaked appearance
of those seen by Kalm, sitting on posts and planks ? I
think the preceding sentence explains it. He saw these
birds first on the 10th of April, and on the next day far
greater numbers of them, sitting on posts and planks.
They had but reached their destination — probably had
just completed a protracted flight of hundreds of miles —
and were seen early in the morning. Thoroughly fagged
at the end of a long journey, and early in the day, when
all else was dripping with the moisture of rain-like dew,
would it not be strange indeed if these new-comers,
like all animate and inanimate nature about them,
were not " as wet as if they had been just come out of
the sea"?

But the barn-swallow asks no lengthy holiday on his
arrival. He quickly, recuperates, and the duties of the
hour are squarely met. If, during the summer, his wan-
derings are less about water than land, it is to the water
that he goes first, when ready to construct his nest or re-
pair the structure of last summer. By the water's edge,
he carefully mixes the adhering mud that forms the ex-
terior of his house. Here, we have a repetition of what I
mentioned with reference to the cliff-swallows. Just at
the time when the supposed mud-encased swallow should
leave his submarine abode, and all bedraggled, wet and
worn should be seen spreading himself in the sun, and
drying out, in readiness for a summer's campaign — then
do we really find the beautiful barn-swallows busy at the
water's edge, and often well wet through ; but, instead

174: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of having lately emerged from the water, they have liter-
ally dropped from the clouds.

But if, for many and good reasons, we set aside, as a
misconception of the facts, the impression still retained by
many, that swallows hibernate in the mud, at the bottoms
of lakes and rivers, what have we to say of the more rea-
sonable proposition that they hibernate, as do many ani-
mals, in underground retreats, in clefts of the rocks and
even in hollow trees ? Now, the one simple way to decide
this matter is, to find them hibernating, as they are said
to do.

So far as my own experience extends, I have never
found a swallow hibernating in any position, nor do I ever
expect to ; and, furthermore, I believe nine tenths of all
the accounts that are published of the discovery of the hi-
bernating swallows could be readily explained as some-
thing very different, if all the facts of the case could be
ascertained. But when we come to study very closely the
habits of a familiar bird, that to all but ornithologists is a
veritable swallow, our common swift or "chimney-swal-
low," then I am fairly staggered, and find myself saying
beneath my breath, " After all - - ! "

In conclusion, then, it behooves me to consider this
common chimney-swallow very carefully and candidly,
and determine how far certain occurrences that I have
witessed are indicative of hibernation.

In a large unused chimney of an old house built in
1708, standing near my home, thousands of chimney-
swallows annually congregate, arriving in April — or
appearing then — and departing, well! I am not certain
when.

Now, this chimney has an internal surface of about four
hundred and twenty-five square feet, and, allowing one
square foot to each nest, will accommodate so many pairs

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE* 175

of swallows. But I find that not more than one third of
the available space is utilized. At this rate, there would
be one hundred and forty pairs of swallows occupying
the chimney at one time. Now, this may seem like a fish
story, but it is an inconsiderable fraction of the truth. I
have carefully timed by my watch an unbroken line of
entering and out-going swallows, and seen them in these
processions steadily enter and reappear for five and a half
minutes, without a break, each bird followed by another
so closely that intervening spaces were scarcely discern-
ible. The downward and upward series were of course
different birds to a certain extent, and it is a fair estimate
to say that fully one thousand swallows were making a
nesting and roosting place of this one chimney at the one
time.

Not the least curious feature of these large colonies is
the evident fact that but a small proportion of these birds
are nesting at this time ; and we are lost in amazement
when considering that the fragile eggs and tender fledg-
lings should escape destruction, surrounded as they are by
such a crowd of jostling, climbing, crawling, tireless swal-
lows. Nor is it at all easy to reach any definite conclu-
sion concerning the object of these non-nesting birds, in
thus continuously through the day entering their roosting
place — the chimney.

Now, these particulars are mentioned in this connec-
tion to show that many hundreds of these birds often
roost in the one place, and must be very closely packed
together when all are at home. For a portion of every
twenty-four hours they are well able to withstand the de-
pressing influences of a crowded condition, with certainly
a minimum of fresh air to breathe. The same conditions
would prove fatal to most other birds, if indeed not to all
others.

176 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. •

This feature of the summer life of these birds please
bear in mind.

Any time after the middle of September there is likely
to be a change. A severe northeast storm coming, they
are gone ! A week may pass, and not a swallow is to be
seen. You may listen at the chimney holes, and not a
swallow is to be heard. The sky is as birdless as in bleak
December. But again the weather becomes warm ; our
magnificent October days are come. The mellowest sun-
shine of all the year gilds the broad meadows and adds a
glory to the scarlet maples ; and again scores of chimney-
swallows, as before, are flitting all day long in the cloudless
skies. Whence come these birds ? They are not so many,
indeed, as were here before the biting northeast winds
bade all our summer birds depart ; but far too many to
consider them as mere stragglers. Indeed, they are too
strong of wing to be thus looked upon. We felt, or
might have felt, certain that the swallows had gone ; but
with the returning cheery days these birds are again with
us. Either they were closely stowed away during the
storm, or they are more northern birds which, leaving
their summer haunts beyond the track of the storm that
visited us, had only reached us as they were moving south-
ward after the storm had passed. This, I think, very
likely is the truth of the matter ; but many circumstances
strongly point to the former supposition — that of tempo-
rary shelter during the storm. Here is an instance. On
the 4th of October of the past year the weather with us
was warm, the thermometer ranging from 65° to 85° Fahr.
Throughout the morning there was a brisk shower, or series
of showers ; but by 2 r. M. it had cleared, with a gentle
wind from the north. It gradually grew colder, and by
sunrise on the 5th the temperature had fallen to 40° Fahr.,
and the wind had increased in violence. All this day

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 177

thousands of chimney-swallows and a few of other species
were seen flying southward, keeping as near to the ground
as possible, just avoiding the tree-tops, and in open spaces
often just clearing the ground. They were in dense flocks,
and appeared to be driven helplessly before the cutting
blasts of the north wind then prevailing. The weather
moderated the next day, and on the 7th of the month there
were very many swallows flying about just as usual ; they
did not finally disappear before the 20th of October.

Such flocks of swallows as I have mentioned are cer-
tainly indicative of a voluntary or forced migration to a
certain extent. What becomes of such storm-driven colo-
nies (and they are an annual occurrence) I cannot say ;
but they are certainly indicative of the habit of migration
obtaining among these birds, to a certain extent. On the
other hand, what of the many swallows that remained for
fully two weeks after the storm I have mentioned ? As
bearing upon this point, the following is worthy of note :
In December, 1879, I had occasion to have a wood-stove
removed from a fireplace, and one for burning coal put
in its place. The removed stove had not had a fire in it
for nearly a year. . On detaching the pipe, there were
found seven swallows in one of the elbows, occupying
the space between the angle and the damper. They were
all perfectly well and comparatively vigorous. On being
placed upon the floor of the room, they soon recovered
their full senses, and, after a feeble flight about the room,
passed quickly through an open window and were seen
no more. The great bulk of the chimney-swallows appar-
ently departed by the 25th of October of that year. I
certainly saw none later ; yet fifty-five days after that
date seven are found, in fine health and strength, snugly
stowed away in a stove-pipe. It is fair to suppose that
they had lived for this length of time without food. If

178 E AMBLES ABOUT HONE.

so, have we any right to limit the length of time that they
may thus remain in a semi-torpid or hibernating condi-
tion ? To maintain that such a question is reasonable is
not an attempt to carry water upon both shoulders ; for
swallows' hibernation in sheltered places, surrounded by
the atmosphere, is vastly different from lying in mud at
the bottom of a lake or the ocean. In a second somewhat
similar instance that has come to my knowledge, a num-
ber of these birds were found in a hollow sycamore which
was cut down in the month of February. These birds
were dead when I saw them, and I was assured by the
wood-cutter that they were stiff and cold when he took
them from the tree. They were not frozen, however,
and the appearance, on dissection, was such as to lead to
the belief that they had died but very recently ; certainly
before the tree was cut down, but not long previously.
There was no decomposition ; some trace of fatty tissue,
and the blood liquid ; the bowels and stomach empty, but
moist, soft, and flexible.

In this case, happening during a remarkably mild
winter, that of 1879-'80, it is possible that swallows might
survive in such quarters, when a season of ordinary sever-
ity would destroy them.

It is claimed that we do not know where the winter
haunts of these birds are ; if so, may it not be that, like
the almost as abundant bats, these birds congregate in
caves or hollow trees \ But if we grant this much, these
hibernating places are not to be looked for in New Eng-
land or the Middle States, but so far south as to be beyond
the reach of the severest frosts of our winters. Certainly,
did they hibernate with us, in the same manner as the
bats, their hiding-places would have been discovered far
oftener than even such instances as I have related have
been noticed. As a thousand or more may be found in

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 179

one chimney during summer, it is fair to presume that,
in hibernating, equal numbers would then also be congre-
gated. No such swallow bonanza is yet upon record.
On the other hand, if chimney-swallows are thus dis-
posed of during winter, it becomes easy to account for
stragglers that, for some unknown reasons, have not joined
the innumerable ranks of their fellows in their southern
flight ; but which, in lieu of this, have essayed to brave
the winter by seeking such shelter, in protected places, as
they may find. That such stragglers can survive an ordi-
nary winter has not been shown — can not be, until they
are taken in full vigor from their hiding-places at the
close of the season. To find living swallows in a cave,
tree, or chimney in February or March, would be a deci-
sive matter; to find such birds before New-Year's-day
does not show that they would be able to remain in health
the season through, and reappear in fall vigor in March
or April.

Judging solely from my own scanty observations, the
chimney-swallow is practically a migratory bird, so far as
New Jersey is concerned. In what manner the winter
is spent beyond our boundaries, I can not say, but offer
such trivial instances as I have related as possibly confirm-
atory of the belief on the part of many, that, like bats,
they strictly hibernate. It remains as yet, however, an
open question ; but to discover that such was really true
of them would have little bearing upon such a strange
belief as that true swallows hibernate in mud.

What is still needed is a system of the most careful
observations, made without a trace of preconceived opin-
ions. "What child but thinks that our flying-squirrels
really fly, instead of sail through the air ! Too often, igno-
rant ourselves, we give evasive answers to our children,
and many errors are thus perpetuated by the world at

180 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

large, which a little patient observation might readily
have checked. On the other hand, when we affect to
become observers, how often do we rashly jump at con-
clusions based upon deceptive appearances! Certainly,
in my own brief experience, I can only testify to the
apparent reality of a bird, less common than swallows,
but superabundant in New Jersey, hibernating in mud.
I refer to the little rail, or sora. Early in August, with
all the regularity of the passing seasons, these birds sud-
denly appear in vast numbers, in the meadows skirting
the Delaware River. Now, ornithologists know well
enough that the rail is strictly migratory ; but I have
yet to see the first gunner, or other person familiar with
our meadows, who ever saw a rail-bird earlier than in
July, and seldom then. Nevertheless they are here weeks
prior to that month, but so closely do they keep them-
selves to the muddy, weed-grown marshes, that their
detection is well-nigh impracticable. Of course, there
must be taken into consideration the fact that, prior to
the middle of August, they are not sought for ; but then,
and until after frost, thousands are killed by the gunners.
Now, the gunners, the farmers, and those whose business
or inclination takes them to these marshes, know the rail-
birds as a suddenly acquired feature of the locality, and,
if they see them, see them running lightly over the
mud that skirts the ditches in our marshy meadows.
They are as much a feature of such localities as frogs ;
but, unlike them, they are extremely sensitive to frost.
It is not strange, perhaps, that the impression of hiberna-
tion should have been entertained with reference to this
bird ; but it must be borne in mind that mere sudden
disappearance should not suggest hibernation in the mind
of any thoughtful person. Birds that migrate by day,
rather than in the night, disappear as suddenly as do the

DO SWALLOWS HIBERNATE? 181

rail-birds, but, being seen on their migratorial journeys, of
course are not invested with any peculiar habits.

It seems never to have occurred to those who insist
upon the hibernation of the rail-bird in the mud, that a
still greater mystery is the impulse that should affect all
these birds at the one moment ; for their sudden and
simultaneous disappearance is always insisted upon. The
truth is, however, that they do not disappear all together.
After the first hard frost, be it early or late, the great
majority of them promptly disappear ; but a fraction of
their former numbers remain. Now, what I believe to
be a rational explanation of the apparent hibernation is
this : The number of rail-birds in a given tract of marsh
is suddenly greatly diminished (this occurs on the day fol-
lowing the first hard frost) ; those that remain are often
weak of wing ; and many are found dead, probably hav-
ing been wounded by the gunners. One and all are
found only in the marshes, and coupled with these facts
is the one more important than all, that the rails are not
seen migrating. They invariably depart at night. Herein
lies the solution of the common impression — one far more
prevalent than that concerning our swallows, whose move-
ments we can watch. While we are familiar with the
rail-birds, they are associated with frogs and the aquatic
life of our marshes. Frost comes and they are gone.
We do not see either frogs or rail-birds disappear; but
we know where the frogs are, and, remembering the am-
phibian habits of these birds, we continue to associate
them with the croaking frogs, and relegate to the mud
these timid, weak- winged birds. But, in truth, they have
gathered their long-husbanded strength, and, in the still-
ness of the frosty night, have winged their way south-
ward without a sign.

As I pointed out in the case of the swallows, many

182 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

are unable to undertake the journey. It is safe to say
that thousands that are crippled by the sportsman remain
in the marshes all the winter, but they finally succumb to
the rigor of the season.

It would seem as if such old and crippled birds had
been made the objects of careful study, and from them
alone facts had been derived which have been offered
and accepted as embodying the authentic life-histories
of these birds.

CHAPTER XIX.

A SECLUDED CORNER.

ONCE, in the far distant past — perhaps so long ago
that a vestige of the ancient glacier of the river valley
still lingered on the distant mountains — a broad and shal-
low creek meandered through the meadows that skirt the
river, and, after a mile or more of independent flow, was
lost in the greater volume of that stream. This little
creek, fed by springs that issued from the bluff that runs
parallel to the rivers course, pursued its winding way
through a dense growth of hickory, oak, birch, and maple.
Along its banks the Indian roamed, and in its quiet
waters he found an abundance of fishes. There was a
time, too, when the spot was beautiful, and there still
remains a vestige of its former beauty ; but only by
careful searching can it be recognized. The springs
that gave this creek its volume of waters have sought
other channels ; the coming of the white man proved the
destruction of the forest ; and now there is left only the
half-dry channel, choked with rank grasses, bulrushes and
reeds. This to the farmer is an eye-sore, as it yields him
no profit ; but to me it is indeed a pleasant place, for I
find a charm in the wild growths, teeming as they are
with feathered occupants. In place of the forest, there
are now broad stretches of dry pasture, with here and
there a single oak or hickory left to tell the story. For-
tunately in one corner of this low-lying tract, called the

184: RAMBLES ABOUT HONE.

" mucky meadow," there remains a clump of large maples,
pin-oaks and birches, which have somehow been spared
by the former owners of the land. They are mine now
and are safe. This out-of-the-way corner is a whole libra-
ry of natural history to him who knows how to read it
through. I do not believe I ever can do so, but I have
made some progress, and this is what I have learned.

Where the ancient creek makes an abrupt turn to the
east, and where now the mucky meadow begins, stand
these maples and oaks. Perhaps they are not very old,
but doubtless their ancestors stood there before them ; and
in the hollows of those earlier trees the forefathers of the
owls that are now here, lived, and hooted and screamed
in the ears of the superstitious Indians, who trapped the
otters and beavers that then abounded in these waters.

The mucky meadow itself has both a geological and
an archaeological history, full of interest ; but these are
subjects upon which I can not dwell at this time, my only
object being to 'call attention to its many merits in an
ornithological point of view.

It is here, at the first intimation of the coming spring,
that the red-winged blackbirds congregate and fill the
air with their delightful music. It is here, in mid-sum-
mer, that the swamp-sparrow loves to dwell, and vies
with the marsh-wrens in enlivening the rank growth of
aquatic grasses. It is here that the little soras or rail-
birds congregate, and thread their way through the dense
growth that mats the meadow. It is here that, in early
autumn, the bob-o-links, in russet dress, swing from the
tall reeds and repeat in mournful monotone their tire-
some " chink " — " chink. " Let us pass these by and
wait until October. With the first white frost there
comes a change in the foliage. If the summer has been
wet (very rarely the case of late years) the leaves will

A SECLUDED CORNER. 185

turn to beautiful shades of crimson and gold ; but, if
there has been a drought, then they are merely browned
and soon drop. In either case, it is in October, and not
until then, that we fully realize the summer is past.
With, this change, there comes another quite as marked
in the animal life. The few birds that remain change
their habits materially, while the many summer sojourn-
ers seek a sunnier clime. The birds that went northward
in May now return, and after tarrying a few days pass
on to the south ; and late in the month arctic and semi-
arctic birds come among us to remain during the winter.
In our secluded corner, however, there too comes a
change that I am ever ready to greet with gladness. The
hollow maple, that throughout the summer has securely
housed a family of short-eared owls, now gives us evi-
dence of the fact, by dropping the leafy screen that hid
them well from view. While the young were yet babies
the old tree shielded them well — now they are able to
shift for themselves, and the tree offers them shelter, but
nothing more. With the departure of the sunlight the
owls are all astir, and it is funny enough to see them.
Of a single owl but little can be said; but before the
family separates, and while the young are receiving their
lessons in mouse-hunting, it becomes very evident, first,
that owls are great talkers ; and secondly, that they are
decidedly intelligent. I was impressed with these facts
during a pleasant moonlight evening last October, when,
having taken my stand to watch the owls, I saw the
whole family of six as they came from their nest in the
tree. The old birds first appeared, flew directly toward
the meadow and disappeared in the long grass. Soon
the four young birds made their appearance, but only to
creep cautiously along the limbs of the tree, and then set-
tle themselves, in a lazy, mufned-up manner, as though

186 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

nothing remained to be done. All the while the old
birds kept up a peculiar call — more like a scream than a
hoot — not altogether unpleasant to the ear. I am in
doubt whether the young owls made any reply, though
I took a faint clicking noise to be such. In a little while,
however, they began to get hungry, and then they uttered
unmistakable cries, to which the parent owls replied by
returning to the tree. In the beak of each owl was a
mouse, or what I took to be such, and when they alighted
on the maple I could detect, in the uncertain light, that
they did not approach closely to the young birds, but,
having removed the mice, which they now held in their
claws, they chattered and screamed to their young, in a
manner that could only be interpreted as, " Come over
here and get your mouse." It was evident that the
young owls were to be taught to help themselves, and to
practice their power of flight. As an inducement to do
the latter, the mice were held temptingly before them but
quite out of reach. Finally, one young owl, more ven-
turesome than his fellows, essayed to fly, but it was
a miserable failure, for, instead of reaching the desired
branch, it fell short a foot or more, and tumbled to the
ground. I can not prove that owls laugh, but I think any
one who heard the old birds just then would never doubt
the fact that they do. The funniest feature, however,
was that the three remaining young birds were disgusted
with what they saw, or were frightened by it — at all
events, they hastened back to the nest, and I saw them
no more that evening.

Of the poor fellow that fell to the ground there is
much to be said, as it was with it that the old birds were
now wholly concerned, and their actions were highly
entertaining. Leaving the tree they flew down to the
hapless bird, and muttered in low tones to it, in a most

A SECLUDED CORNEE. 187

sympathizing manner. Their utterances now, which I
could hear notwithstanding the racket made by the frogs,
were very varied, and gave the impression that they were
holding a conversation. After the lapse of a minute or
more the old birds together took a short, low flight, and
then returned to the young owl. Was it not to show it
how easy flight was ? Then again they flew away, in the
same manner, and the young owl endeavored to follow.
It was with evident difficulty that it left the ground, but
when once its feet were clear of the grass it progressed
satisfactorily, though only for a short distance. This
pleased the old birds, for one of them came to the plucky
little fellow, and, with one wing extended, patted the
young bird on the head and back most tenderly. At this
I laughed aloud, most unfortunately, and immediately
the old birds flew to the nesting-tree, and then discovered
my hiding-place. Of all the scoldings I ever got, that
from the owls, this evening, was the severest. As I
moved away I recalled the oft-witnessed scene of the
king-birds worrying crows. It was the same thing in
my case. Keeping just out of reach of my cane, they
swooped about my head and snapped their bills viciously.
They did not dare to strike me, but they came unpleas-
antly near, and it was with a feeling of comfort that I
finally reached safer quarters.

Another feature of this secluded corner is worthy of
mention. The herons for many years have occupied it
as a roost, and every spring the little green " fly-up-the-
creek " has nested in the maples here. Their nest is a
slight structure of coarse twigs, and the contents consist
of two dirty-green eggs, which disappear in good time,
and their place is taken up by as comical a pair of dirty-
tinted down-clad creatures as can be seen. When the
birds are less than a week old the nest is often forsaken,

188 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and the downy, awkward birds find a resting place on
some convenient branch. Apparently they are quite at
home, though they do not look as if they were wholly
comfortable. Their legs are not fully equal to the task
of supporting the body for any length of time ; and, on
the other hand, the art of sitting down gracefully has
not yet been acquired.

As these little green herons usually build in small
colonies, sometimes four or six nests are in one tree.
One summer, some few years ago, there were three nests
in this tree, and when the birds were about ten days old
every nest had tumbled down, and five young herons sat
in a row on one of the horizontal branches. They were
an odd-looking company, and, so far as the parent birds
were concerned, it must have been a difficult matter to
recognize their own offspring.

When young herons happen to fall to the ground, as
is frequently the case, they are then beset by several
enemies, two of which are of unusual interest. These
are the musk-rat and the snapping-turtle. The homes of
both all summer are essentially aquatic. The musk-rat
does not often leave the water, and it is supposed that
the snapper never does at this time of year. When,
however, it happens that a young heron or two fall to
the ground, the parent birds notify the neighborhood to-
ward night-fall, and among those that quickly respond,
or at least are attracted by the sounds, are the musk-rats
and snappers. If either chance to find the young birds
they are quickly disposed of, although the parents offer a
vigorous, and at times an effectual, defense. A most in-
teresting point is that if, as appearances indicate, the
snapper was attracted by the cries of the herons, was it
out of the water at the time, or has it so acute a sense
of hearing that it is cognizant of occurrences above

A SECLUDED CORNER. 189

water, and at a distance of nearly two rods ? I have twice
seen a snapper in broad daylight seize a young heron that
had fallen from the nest; and once witnessed the suc-
cessful effort of the old herons to drive off a musk-rat.
Possibly in the matter of the turtle it was a mere coinci-
dence, the turtle happening to pass by as the heron fell.
It may have been so, but I do not believe it ; and I pin
my faith on the chance saying of an old fisherman, who
once said to me, " Snappers don't stick so close to the
water as people think."

During the very open winter of 1879-'80, a pair of
night herons or "quoks"made this tree their roosting-
place. During the day they sat silent, and nearly motion-
less, close to the main stem of the tree, and so were incon-
spicuous and therefore safe. Near by, in the meadow,
is a large spring, about which the grass always remains
green. Here, too, a few minnows and fewer frogs re-
mained in full vigor, and I suppose from this source
their scanty food-supply was derived. During the clear,
moonlight evenings of this winter, it was truly an un-
canny feature of this corner to see this pair of night
herons or " quoks " sally from the leafless maples, and,
while flying over the meadow, to hear them cry with a
harsh voice that was the more ghost-like in the still air
of a mid-winter night. Perhaps the cry was answered
by the cat-like scream of the long-eared owl, and, if so,
the secluded corner was for the time a weird spot in-
deed, and one to be shunned by those unfortunates who
have no taste for Nature in her wilder aspects.

How little would any one, who simply passed during
the day, imagine the variety of forms of animal life that
congregates in such a corner. The hollow in the large
maple is not visible from the ground, and yet it is a capa-
cious cavern, and the home of owls nearly the whole

190 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

year through. In a tortuous burrow at the roots of the
tree is the home of a pair of minks, that have laughed
at all my traps ; in a black oak near by there are opos-
sums nearly always to be found, and in the long grass of
the meadow the musk-rat has his home. A few of the
birds I have already mentioned. What need, then, to
travel to distant parts with such a wealth of entertaining
life near by ? I have been familiar with all these mam-
mals, birds, reptiles, and fishes, from my earliest years, yet
not one of them is so well known that a day's study of
them, in their own homes, does not yield something new.
Lingering by the hour in this secluded corner, I have
heard owls utter sounds that are nowhere recorded as
within the range of their cries ; I have watched the
wary woodcocks performing their aerial dances, if they
may be so called ; I have seen the fierce snapping-tur-
tle play the gentle lover ; and, when all was covered
deep with winter's accumulated snows, I have tracked
the musk-rat to his home ; and sought out the mink,
the opossum, and the skunk, in their retreats among the
trees. Yerily, in such a corner, one may ceaselessly turn
the pages of the book of Nature, and never weary in so
doing.

CHAPTER XX.

THREE BEECHES.

I HAVE often wondered that these sole remaining
traces of the primeval forest did not die of chagrin when
they saw how sadly changed everything was about them.
However, they still stand as glorious monuments of a splen-
did long ago, guarding a little space of air if not of earth,
wherein, unmolested, the year round, birds may congre-
gate in safety.

These three beeches are not simply three enormous
trees ; but they are, collectively, my beautiful aviary. I
doubt if a day passes, the year round, that at least one
bird does not tarry in their branches ; and it is in this
aspect only that I purpose writing of them.

Let us glance at them in mid- winter. Even then, we
are sure to find blue-jays screaming amid the labyrinth
of leafless branches that crown the trees. Common as
they are, and in spite of many unattractive ways, these
birds are worthy of careful study. There is much more
in them than those who know them only as " noisy gos-
sips " would suspect. For the past three years a half-
dozen or more of them have been living, from November
to March, in these beeches, and have afforded me no end
of amusement.

Just where they roost I am not quite sure, but I
think in a haymow near by. Be this as it may, as soon
as the night is spent the birds are astir, and, screaming

192 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

harshly and incessantly, as is their wont, they thread their
way through the innumerable branches. In so doing,
they use their wings less than other birds, except the par-
rots. They climb from twig to twig, and walk with quite
a stately mien along the stouter branches, when not too
upright. Thus up and down the tree, they pick now
and then a nut, but do not appear to spend much time in
feeding.

Strange as it may seem, although so large, these jays
are by no means conspicuous when sitting quietly on the
leafless branches of a large beech. The color of the bark
is not unlike that of the bird, and I am quite inclined to
believe that the birds themselves are conscious of the
fact. When disturbed, as by the report of a gun, I have,
time after time, seen them cling as closely to a broad
branch, as ever did a cunning gray squirrel when fright-
ened. So marked is this that I am tempted to ask myself
whether it was not possible that they had learned the
trick from the squirrels. Bright and showy as is their
plumage, these birds give evidence of knowing that under
certain circumstances it does not render them conspic-
uous, and they act accordingly. I have noticed, too, that
they will hide successfully in white oaks, during winter ;
but here they trust altogether to the clusters of leaves
that remain on the tree throughout the season. I have
seen them creep into a cluster of such leaves and remain
motionless, although I was very near them at the time.
In this case they evidently realized that no similarity of
color existed, and that their only protection arose from
cover ; hence they sought it. If I am correct, it shows
that the color sense is very well developed in the jays.
Indeed, they have all the intelligence of their cousins, the
crows ; and as they are driven now from their ancient
haunts in the thick woods, by the general destruction of

THREE BEECHES. 193

forests, they are competed to make good use of their wits
in order to thrive in the open country. Their plumage
is against them, and they know it ; and their ingenuity
is on the increase, it may be, to enable them to overcome
the difficulties incident to their newer surroundings. Dur-
ing the past summer a pair of these birds built their nest
in a small white oak near the house. It was constructed of
dead twigs, and placed in a crotch in such a manner as to
be quite inconspicuous ; and the parent birds, when on
, the nest, so arranged themselves as readily to escape no-
tice. They kept their heads below the level of the nest,
and so disposed of their tails that not a feather was
visible from below. Nor were these birds noisy dur-
ing the nesting season. Indeed, it was only by chance
that I found their nest, days after the young were
hatched.

Unless very carefully observed, a family of jays in win-
ter would give the impression that they were exceedingly
quarrelsome. This, I think, is not true. Not that quarrels
do not arise among them, for they do occur quite often,
and sometimes end in the death of one of the combatants ;
but the greater part of their noisy vivacity and excited
antics is merely the result of boisterous play. This I
conclude, because I have frequently noticed that when
taking protracted flights they are often as full of talk as
when perched upon the topmost branch of some tall tree.
They will often even turn in their flight to those far
behind, and chatter long and loudly, as though chiding
the laggards. In spite of their, noise, it is evident that
it is the chatter of excited but not necessarily angry
birds.

There is yet another phase of jay life worthy of men-
tion, and I can best introduce the subject by seriously
asking, Do they ever dance ? I scarcely feel justified in

194 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

giving an affirmative answer; and yet some of their an-
tics have impressed me with the idea that such might be
the case. One glorious day in January, three years ago,
I heard a company of these birds screaming and chatter-
ing as usual among the beeches. Although so jay-like in
general, still there was a peculiarity in the multitudinous
sounds that made me think that something had gone
wrong among them. An owl perhaps had caught one of
them. I straightway sought a convenient spot from
which I might see what was going on, and I soon saw
that something unusual had occurred. My first view of
them showed some dozen or fifteen birds settled near
each other on convenient branches, while two others oc-
cupied a broad, and nearly horizontal, branch. These
latter were not sitting quietly by any means. When
first seen they were standing together, but immediately
separated and ran from each other as far as the branch
would allow ; then, turning, they half opened their wings
and spread their tail-feathers much as a turkey does, and,
in this manner, with head well up and crest erected, they
hopped in measured leaps toward each other, giving a
loud chirp at each forward movement. When they met
the spectators joined in a shrill clamor of discordant cries,
which continued until the two dancing jays had sepa-
rated. These two birds simply met and parted. There
was no further demonstration. These curious antics
were repeated several times ; and then suddenly, with-
out any apparent reason, the whole company took
flight.

I have witnessed such an occurrence but the once,
though I never fail to think of it and look for its repetition
when the jays are in the beeches. Had it occurred two
months later, I should have though it an exhibition by
two males who were trying to attract the notice of cer-

THREE BEECHES. 195

tain females among the spectators ; but happening, as it
did, in midwinter, it had all the appearance to me of a
kind of amusement which is probably indulged in but
seldom.

Last July I spent a memorable morning under these
beeches. Something had gone wrong with the birds, and
the occupants of two neighboring wren-boxes were dis-
cussing the situation. There was no quarreling, but the
primp and prompt wrens were in great earnest, as their
chattering and the energetic bobbing of heads and tails
plainly indicated. My first impression was that the occu-
pants of one house had trespassed upon the domains of the
other, and this is a thing that no wren will tolerate for a
moment. When two or more pairs of them have nests in
close proximity, they parcel out the immediate surround-
ings, and each, when foraging, limits itself to a range
that does not approach the others' houses very closely.
If such a thing does occur, nine times in ten there's a
row.

The wrens in the beeches that July morning, how-
ever, had a common cause to discuss, and their utterances
and actions were wholly different from any sounds I had
heard before, coming even from an excited wren. Had
I not seen the birds, I doubt if I should have recognized
their voices. After some five minutes or more of most
animated discussion, a plan of action was decided upon ;
at least, the wrens left the beeches in company, and. I
was not slow to follow. They returned — as I supposed
they would — to the house of one of the pairs of wrens,
and settled upon its roof and upon the little perch at the
entrance. When I came to the spot, I saw, at a glance,
wherein the trouble lay. A pestiferous English sparrow
had taken possession of the box, and " cleaned out " the
wrens. The sorry interloper was at the time inside, and

196 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

could not be dislodged. There was fun ahead, I fore-
saw, so I took up a position favorable for witnessing the
denouement.

The wrens took their stands near by and quietly
waited for the sparrow to appear. This it did not do im-
mediately, and one of the wrens became quite uneasy.
It chirped and twittered in a restless manner, and finally
flew to the wren-box near by, and entered it. I suppose
it was a parent-bird anxious about its eggs or young.
At any rate, it did not reappear upon the scene. Some
ten long minutes passed, and still no signs of the sparrow.
The three wrens that remained never once quit their
posts, and, wonderfully strange ! they had nothing to say.
Finally, the sparrow thrust his head out and took an ob-
servation. Immediately the wrens assumed a "make
ready " attitude and awaited his coming.

Things looked ugly for the sparrow, and so it thought,
I imagine. Still, the bird had no notion of being a pris-
oner, and boldly emerged from his retreat. In an instant,
the three wrens darted upon the usurper and drove him
from the bird-house. Yainly he endeavored to escape
the sharp thrusts of their bills. The wrens were as act-
ive as swallows, and eluded every attempt on the part of
the sparrow to attack them. The moment he essayed to
close with one, the others were upon him, and so success-
fully did they manage the fight that they cut off his final
effort to regain the bird-box. This the wrens had evi-
dently foreseen might be attempted, and consequently
they did not at any time leave the sparrow's way open
to a retreat in that direction. Nor were the wrens satis-
fied with merely regaining possession of their ruined nest.
They pursued the sparrow in whatever direction he took,
and so wearied him with their ceaseless assaults that he
finally yielded to sheer exhaustion and fell to the ground.

THREE BEECHES. 197

At this point I interfered, and, picking him up, found
upon examination that he was so sorely wounded that he
soon died. As to the wrens : seeing that victory had
crowned their efforts, they united in singing such a song
of thanksgiving as wrens never sang before.

CHAPTER XXI.

ROSE-BKEASTED GROSBEAKS.

A NEW bird in the neighborhood is a source of joy.
However common it may be elsewhere, and however fa-
miliar you may be with it " in books," yet to see it in
the trees and bushes about your own home, a voluntary
visitor at that, is to gaze on a novelty, and you do so
with much the same feeling that you would upon a new
species. Now, the rose-breasted grosbeak comes under
neither head. It is not a new species, nor is it new to
the neighborhood, for scores of them pass by every May,
on their northward journey, and come trooping back, in
October, with their families. But in 1882 they decided
upon a change. They came in May as usual, and, delight-
ful to tell, they remained — not one, nor a pair, but a great
many of them. In years past, to see one was an unusual
sight, and to hear it sing, a rare pleasure ; but in 1882,
they not only came, but seemed anxious to be seen.
They perched in the trees nearest the house, and sang
such songs as never bird sang before. So, at least, it
seemed to all of us. Perhaps, after all, the song was no
sweeter than that of the wood-thrush ; but it was widely
different, and was so great an addition to the orchestra,
that we rated it, while new to us, as the first of the series
of noble bird-songs that daily floated houseward from the
woods near by.

May 21st, I spent a pleasant hour watching a gros-
beak feed upon the seeds of the catalpa. The tree itself

ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAKS. 199

had, as yet, no foliage. From its long, naked branches,
only the slender seed-vessels — " beans," we call them —
dangled in the breeze, and ever and anon striking a
neighboring branch, they rattled like a gourd. They had
remained closed during the winter, and now, if ever, was
the time for them to open and let loose the prisoned
seeds. Their time, however, did not appear to have come ;
but to-day a grosbeak "did the business" for the one
tree near my garden fence. Never was a bird more me-
thodical in anything it undertook, and generally birds
" take matters into consideration " before beginning any
work. Clinging to a convenient twig, the nearest to the
one that supported the pendent pod, the grosbeak nipped
open the seed-vessel near the stem, making but a short in-
cision, and then drew forth a single seed. This it trim-
med, and let the light, feathery particles come floating
down to me. The kernel the bird reserved to itself.
Then the next seed, and the next were taken out, in the
same quiet, methodical way, until the free end of the pod
was reached. The last seed was detached by separating
the two halves of the pod, and these then swung apart,
and, slightly curling upward, trembled in the breeze, as
they drooped from the dainty stem. Then the grosbeak
passed to another pod or "bean," nor did he quit work
until every one was rifled of its contents, split apart, and
left swinging in the wind. If there were a hundred
" beans" at the outset, there were now two hundred halves
of bean-pods dangling in the air ; giving the leafless, spi-
der-leg branches a more ragged appearance than before.
During all this time, not a note from the busy bird, not
a chirp nor twitter. This was cunning, perhaps, as it
might have been afraid of attracting others who would
claim a share of the feast.

It was not until the settled warm weather of June

200 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

that the grosbeaks began to sing much ; and then, for an
hour before sunset was their favorite time. Their labors
of nest-building were by this time completed, and they
were, I thought, rejoicing at the idea of vacation, for un-
til the eggs were hatched there would be little to do.
And such bird-music I had seldom heard before — never
since. The notes had all the clearness of the oriole's, and
yet were without its harshness ; they were as varied as
those of the wood-thrush, yet not so monotonous. The
charm consisted in our not being able to anticipate the
song, as it was never, I think, quite the same, though cer-
tain well-marked features were heard in every utterance,
and this at once caused the bird and its song to be recog-
nized. For weeks I tried to express the song in music,
but the evening's result was a sad jumble of harsh notes,
and before the summer ended I gave up in despair. At
times, the wood-thrush, chat, oriole, and the vireos would
join the grosbeak, and then indeed it was a service of song.
During the subsequent summer days, I found these
birds usually in an apple-orchard, busy as wood-peckers,
hunting for insects, even in the hottest sunshine. They
thereby proved themselves to be as useful as they were
beautiful. I found them, too, gathering potato-bugs, and
they seemed to suffer no harm, although the vines, previ-
ous to their visit, had been dusted with Paris-green.
From this I judged, as no grosbeaks were killed, that
they ate only the living insects, which of course were
free of the poison. This fancy for the potato-pest ought
to secure entire safety to the grosbeak, so far as man
is concerned ; but, strangely enough, it does not, as I
found a fiend collecting them, one morning, "for the
milliners." Unfortunately, a defect in our laws pre-
vented my killing the collector without getting myself
into trouble, but the birds were not again disturbed.

CHAPTER XXII.

EARLY MOKNING.

BEFOKE describing the spot, and our object, a word
about this time of the day. The most familiar objects,
at this hour — 4 A. M. — have a somewhat different aspect.
The country was just sufficiently the same to make us
sure of where we were. Fleecy clouds enveloped the low-
lands, and acres of pastures appeared like miniature lakes.
The glistening dew silvered the grass along our path, and
brought out in strong relief the geometric webs of the spi-
der. Where a few hours later there will be a compara-
tive silence, was now heard the choicest vocal efforts of
all our songsters. Not a bird within hearing but joined
in the chorus of welcome to the rising sun. All nature,
except poor humanity, rejoiced that the glories of a new-
born day were here.

My object in thus taking an early start was to have
a day's shooting along the river-shore for " teeters and
the like," as ITz Gaunt called the whole family of sand-
pipers. Plovers he knew, and spoke of them by their
proper name. It so happened that early in the morning
the tide would be out, and long stretches of the shore and
of "Long Bar" would be bare. Uz had promised me
some good sport, and soon we were on our way, he speak-
ing of the birds we were so soon to find, as a matter of
course, and I in expectation of all that he promised.

When the river was reached, for we had been passing

202 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

down the Popihacka, now Watson's Creek, for some dis-
tance, a mist hung over the muddy flats and the water.
Even at a comparatively short distance objects were ob-
scured, but still we were not at a loss as to the proper
direction to take, for the clear notes of several sandpipers
could be heard, and these guided us.

Uz listened for several minutes to these sounds, and
then quietly remarked, " The plovers are not with them,
to-day, and we'll have better luck."

" Why ? " I asked ; for it was a decided surprise to
me, to hear him say this.

" Simply because those little plovers are a great deal
quicker witted than ' teeters ' of any sort, big or little.
I'll tell you more about them, after a bit."

Until the fog lifted, of course nothing could be done ;
but we had not long to wait, and soon we were able to
mark the movements of troops of sandpipers running
hither and thither up and down the sand. We took up
our places, at points considerably apart, and approached
each other, keeping a troop of teeters between us. When
within twenty yards, the birds would take wing, and gen-
erally afford a shot to one or the other of us, before they
had flown over the water or out of reach. In this way
we bagged a score in a little while, but they soon became
wild, and the shooting grew quite monotonous. In the
course of two hours we were ready to quit, and before
the day became really oppressive we were homeward
bound. The birds that we had shot were the least sand-
piper, the spotted, several " solitaries," and two of that
curious form known as the " sanderling."

As we were sculling homeward, I reminded Uz of
his promise concerning the plovers, and as we moved
slowly up the creek he told me the following as one of
his experiences :

EARLY MORNING. 203

" Some years ago, one August, there was a great flight
of ' yellow-legs ' and < tell-tales,' as you call 'em, along the
river. I've never, altogether, seen so many since. For a
week or so, Long Bar, at low tide, would be just black
with 'em. No gunners came 'round just then, and I had
the thing all to myself ; and it paid big. Well, early one
morning, about the end of the time, I was settling myself
in a sort of ambush I had, made of cedar-boughs tucked
against a buttonwood log, lyin' on the bar, and I thought
I heard the yellow-legs coming up the river ; but instead
it was a whole swad of. little plovers. They settled down,
black, right in front of me, and then scooted 'round,
until they made me out. One or two of 'em gave a wild
chirp, and away the whole of 'em went. I was glad they
were gone, and takin' comfort in my luck, when the
pesky things came back, but kept on the river side of my
screen. They trotted up and down as unconcerned as a
fly on your nose, and I paid no attention to them for
a while, as I was waiting for bigger game. After a bit
the big teeters I was after came within hearin', and I was
all eyes for a lot of 'em to settle down within range ; but
what do you think? those pesky plovers set up a sort of
a chatter when the big teeters came, and just made 'em
keep away from anywhere near where I was. Talk about
birds talking ! Why, them plover told the big teeters
there was danger lurkin' behind the log as plain as you
or I could. The birds' actions showed that. They say
' actions speak louder than words,' and so the birds' doings
told me plain enough that their twittering, when tho
teeters came by, was understood all 'round, and the birds
acted accordingly. If you're goin' to boil it down to a
lot of hard-twisted words, perhaps you can make it out
that it was something different from our ways of talkin'
and takin' in the situation ; but to me it was one and the

204 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

same, and I guess that birds' talk and ours differs just as
we differ in our make-up, and not in the natur5 of it. I've
seen enough of birds in my time to make me believe in
their talking, anyhow. Well, I got kind o' tired lyin'
behind that log with nothing to do, and the tide was
comin' in, and I felt like blazin' away at the plovers for
spoilin' my day. If I did, I knew the others would be
off, and thought perhaps they would come back and the
plovers would stay. Not a bit of it. The shot laid over
five or six plover and wing-tipped a teeter, and that was
all the birds I got that morning. I whistled till my
cheeks hurt, but it was no use ; them plovers had cooked
my goose for me, and I've always found 'em a cunmV
set ever since. Well, it was only a day or two after, I
went again to Long Bar to see if any birds were about,
but there wasn't. I was sittin' on the button wood when
I heard a t peet-weet ' or two, and ducked down, not quite
sure what it was. Betimes I was behind the log, four of
these little plover was on the other side, and as busy
feedin' or lookin' for food as they could be. Now, the
tides had washed a little hollow in front of the log,
and I'd seen in it a dozen little minnies swimmin' 'round
lively and tryin' to get out. You see the tide went out
too fast for 'em, and they were caught. "Well, what
completely took me aback, was the way these plovers
acted. They wanted the minnies, and yet didn't quite
know how to get 'em. They chased 'round a bit, but
didn't seem to catch any, when, do you believe it, them
four plovers just walked in, all abreast, and undertook to
corner the little fish. Hang me, if they didn't, though.
You've seen a flock of turkeys walk abreast across a field,
catch in' grasshoppers ? Well, these little plover just walked
through that water as even along as turkeys, only they
didn't keep their heads goin' all the time like the turkeys.

EARLY MORNING. 205

They just went on as a matter of course, until they had
the minnies cornered, or thought they had 'em. It was
a mighty funny sight, I tell you, boy, and one I only saw
that once."

" If turkeys should do this, why shouldn't plovers do
the same ? " I asked, forgetting that he disliked interrup-
tions.

" All I know is, it doesn't seem strange in the turkeys,
and same way I've seen rock-fish move like soldiers on a
school of minnies; but for the plovers to do the like
seemed all out of place, somehow, just as anything is apt
to when it is unexpected like. "Well, to go on with my
story where I left off : So far as I could tell, the fish had
got ahead of the plovers by buryin' themselves in the
sand. I was so took up with the way things turned out,
that I raised up, forgettin' about the plovers, and went
to look for them fish ; the plovers put off, and I looked
all 'round. There was no minnies in the water, certain,
and so I dug down a bit, and, sure enough, the cunnin'
things had gone down as much as an inch in the wet
sand."

By this time we were at the landing, and Uz's narra-
tive came to an abrupt conclusion, for the time being, and
we were too busy fixing the boat and other matters to talk
much. On our return towards home, however, over the
dewy path of some hours ago, but now hot and dusty, I
started the conversation by remarking that the common
mud-minnow of our meadow-ditches buries itself in the
mud to escape danger.

" I know it," replied Uz, i( and that reminds me that
I've something more to say about those plovers and min-
nies. Perhaps you've never watched little plovers very
closely, and so don't know 'em as well as I do. Well,
they have the habit of huntin' minnies that are left in

206 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

puddles at low tide, as I've told you, and here let me tell
you something more about this. You know wherever
there is a good-sized cobble-stone on the sand, the out-
goin' tide washes a little hollow on the lower side of the
stone, and in this the little minnies take refuge when the
water 's fallin'. The plovers know this just as well as I
do, and go spookin' 'round ; but seein' 'em, the minnies
get clear under the stone out o' sight. How the plovers
smell 'em out, I don't know, but they'll just splash and
dance 'round, and somehow seem to scare 'em out, and
then they gobble the littlest of 'em up. When they are
too big, as is mostly the case, they only worry at 'em, for
it is only the little wee bits of minnies they can make out
to swallow. There's another kind of minnie, or little fish
o' some sort, they don't disturb, I know, and sometimes
a whole regiment of 'em will be on the flats at low tide.
They are like little perch in looks, and go off with a skip
and a jerk, instead of swimmin'."

" You mean what are known as ( darters,' I guess.
Little fish with big spiny fins, that lie at the bottom of
the river and the creek, where it is sandy," I suggested
to Uz.

" That covers the whole ground, boy," he replied, and
continued, " and they have been something of a puzzle to
me. Last spring, when I was huntin' for my sheath-
knife at low tide off Long Bar, I was lookin' at the bottom
as I floated along, hopin' to see my knife. About half-
way down the bar, I see the carcass of a musk-rat some-
body had skinned, lyin' on the bottom, and just about a
thousand of these little 'skip-jacks,' as I call 'em, were
feastin' on the rat. I halted a minute, and watched 'em.
They would kind o' haul off, and then give a dart at the
rat's carcass, and catchin' a bit in their jaws, take it away
with 'em and gobble it up when they'd got fairly settled

EARLY MORNING. 207

on the sand. Then up and at it they would go again.
I marked the spot, and next day was along there again.
The fish had gone, but they had about made a clean
skeleton of the carcass. I never before saw so many of
'em together."

" Why do you think plovers don't eat these darters
as well as the common minnows ? " I asked.

" Simply because, when I've been ambushed on the
flats lookin' for teeters, I've seen lots of these little skip-
jacks caught in the puddles. Could see 'em skippin' out
of the water, and the little plovers would run right
among 'em and not notice 'em. Things like that, happen-
ing right under my nose, I can't help but notice. Some-
times the plovers would chase little fish ; sometimes they
wouldn't ; and I found the skip-jacks they let alone and
the littlemost minnows they gobbled up."

" A good many people might see all this and never
know what it meant," I replied, and added, "I've seen
plovers often, and shot dozens of 'em, but this is all news
to me."

" That's just accordin' to what I've told you more than
once. If you waited until you were as old as I am before
you printed anything about birds, you would then likely
tell a good many things nobody would believe — like
enough be set down as crazy. I've never told you half
I've seen in my days, and do not mean to. You wouldn't
believe some things."

" Indeed I will," I replied quickly ; " I'd rather have
your opinion and knowledge than that of any one I
know."

" All very well to say, boy, but you'd feel a little
doubtful about it if I gave you a full account of my
years of lookin' at things in natur' ; anyhow, I won't
do it."

208 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

" I hope you will change your mind," I remarked,
knowing coaxing was useless ; " I want, anyhow, to hear
you again about the snakes in the June freshet. Re-
member, I didn't see any of any account."

"Perhaps I will, some day," Uz replied, "but not
now."

Here we reached the cross-roads and parted for the
day.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A WALK IN WINTER.

THE whole range of field, forest, and meadow, with
their scattered patches of tangled thicket and lace-work
of worm-fences, on which I looked from my study-win-
dow, had during a recent January morning a marvelously
altered appearance. That the familiar land-marks were
all there I had no reason to doubt, but ready recognition of
them was, after all, not so easy, when a deep, undrifted
snow covered everything.

"What though an open fire-place and hickory logs were
at my disposal ? These are incomparable after sundown ;
but it argued no want of love for my grandmother's and-
irons, if so early in the day I did not succumb to their
charms. Let me first weary myself with a tramp over the
snow, which will not last but a day or two, it may be,
and gather material for a dream by the blazing hickory
logs when it is gone, for the wood will keep.

Not a sight nor a sound of bird for the first half mile ;
and as it was a matter of wading rather than walking,
much of the time, I began to feel discouraged and thought
of the andirons. But when fairly in the open fields, the
snow-crust was firmer, and a change came over the spirit
of my day-dream. I heard a bird chirp, and at once felt
my strength renewed. Nor does this indicate mania on
the subject of birds. To be sure, I could have heard
sparrows chirp, to my heart's content, by merely raising

210 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

my study-window ; but these were English sparrows, and
de gustibus non est disputandum. I would rather raise
Cain with the misguided people who brought these tru-
culent little wretches into the country.

The bird-note that I had heard was nothing but a
faint chirp, but then it did not come from a sparrow's
throat, but from a prettier one and a wild one, whose
owner is never here in summer. Here, then, were all
things needful to play "up North," as the children say :
snow, ice, cold weather, arctic birds; and so the fun
began. I heard a faint chirp, and then an answering one ;
then a clear, ringing twitter filled the crisp air, and a
great company of horned larks came flying by and settled
daintily on the broad expanse of snow before me. So I
had not, after all, taken a walk for nothing.

Of all possible sights of a snowy winter, whether in
the open fields or the hoary forests, that of a company of
tripping, chirping, merry horned larks is the most beauti-
ful. Nor do I wonder that they like so well to be abroad
at such a time. Can sunshine be more magnificent than
when it gilds acres of untrodden snow ? The larks, at
such a time, need little shelter from pursuing foes. The
merest ripple in the surface grants them all they need,
and sharp eyes are required to follow their movements.
This they seem to know ; at all events, they are happy.
Yet why do they visit us only at such times ? Do they
belong to one of the u old families " among birds, and did
they come in with the glaciers, as some of our friends
claim to have done " with the Conqueror " ? If so, their
love of arctic conditions became so strongly rooted that
no subsequent experiences could or have changed it ; and
in these later days, when the Eskimo and the glacier
have alike retreated toward the arctic circle, the larks,
too, have followed in their wake, and only return to the

A WALK IN WINTER. 211

homes of their remote ancestors when winter kindly re-
stores it to its old-time condition.

To return to these larks before me : there were fully
a hundred of them, and they ran with wonderful speed
over the snow, sometimes carrying their heads well up,
and then thrusting them eye-deep into the snow. I saw
all about me the oblique holes they had thus made, and I
judged that it must have been done in picking up grass-
seeds that the winds had scattered, and in catching a
small red spider that w^as abundant near the top of the
snow, for both of which they were evidently in search.
There was also some insect-life abroad — minute black
flies, that eluded my efforts at capture, but which may
have been caught up by the quick-motioned larks.

Beyond me, the half -hidden worm-fence had protected
in its corners a long hedge of tall weeds, and these I
found still retained a large portion of their seeds in the
seed-vessels. These weeds the larks did not approach.
Indeed, they are not adapted to climbing at all, and any
food to be accessible to them must be upon the ground.

Again, during the whole time that these larks re-
mained in view, I failed to detect any leader among them.
I thought that, in every instance of their taking flight,
I heard a clear, bell-like chirp, but there was nothing to
indicate that this alarm came from one and the same bird.
However this may be, no sooner is the note heard
than every bird rose instantly, and, although much scat-
tered at the time, they closed their ranks promptly, and
moved with a wavy motion, almost as a single object. I
likened it to a sheet of paper carried gently along by the
wind. With the same unity of purpose they alighted ;
no one lark touched the snow a second in advance of its
fellows. But no sooner were they again on foot than
they were wholly indifferent to each other, and went

212 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

seed-gathering and spider-hunting, each one strictly on
his own account.

It seemed to me, at the time, highly improbable that
they could follow this course for any length of time
without drawbacks, and I asked myself if they were
never molested when wandering over snow-clad fields.
Happily for my curiosity, I was soon enlightened. A
shadow floated quickly over the snow before me, a faint,
cat-like scream came from overhead, and as I turned I
saw between me and the sun a restless, impetuous spar-
row-hawk hurrying by. It too had seen these merry
larks from afar, or, descrying me, had guessed that I was
bird-hunting, and so came to see. At all events, on came
the hawk, and perched upon a projecting stake of the
worm-fence near by. From this " coign of vantage " it
sailed over the spot where the larks were, but no sooner
was it directly above them than they moved en masse a
few yards, and, settling down, they scattered again. I
could scarcely follow their movements, but it was evident
that they were determined not to give the hawk an oppor-
tunity to single out any one of their number. In order
to accomplish this, they in one instance burrowed into
the snow until quite concealed. The hawk, darting like
lightning toward them, struck the low snow-bank, and,
being disappointed, he rose with a shrill cry of anger and
disgust. As he was flying in one direction, the larks rose
up as one body, and moved by me in the opposite di-
rection at a rate of speed never attained by any spar-
row-hawk. I was fairly thrilled with the suddenness and
sagacity of the movement, which was all over before I
fairly realized what had happened. I saw no more of
the larks that day, but enjoyed the chagrin of the hawk,
which vainly endeavored to determine their whereabouts.
The baffled bird seemed to hold me responsible for their

A WALK IN WINTER. 213

escape, and scolded me in no measured terms. Either
knowing that I was without a gun, or being perfectly in-
different to the fact, he came flitting near me, and darted
menacingly toward me as I stood my ground. I have
seen brave birds and impudent ones, but none that ex-
ceeded this baffled hawk in both these qualities. He
evidently held me responsible for all that had happened ;
at least I thought so, as I slowly wended my way home-
ward.

CHAPTEE XXIV.

FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS.

IN the volume by Mr. Darwin on the " Expression of
the Emotions," it is stated, on page 48, that " kingfishers,
when they catch a fish, always beat it until it is killed."
When I read this statement, I felt quite sure that it did
not apply to our common belted kingfisher ; and, in a
brief communication to "Nature" (vol. vii, p. 362), I
took occasion to say that I had never seen a kingfisher
take its food otherwise than by swallowing it whole, and
that while he was yet upon the wing. The captured fish
having been swallowed, or, at least, having disappeared,
the kingfisher will then alight upon the branch of a tree,
and, stretching out its neck, go through a gulping motion,
as if the fish had not been entirely swallowed, but had
been retained in the oesophagus. Up to the time when
I made this note (January, 1873), I certainly had never
once seen a fish taken from the water and killed before
being devoured, and I was under the impression that, in
feeding, the kingfisher, after darting into the water and
securing a small minnow, emerged from the stream,
uttering its shrill, harsh, chattering cry, as if rejoicing
over the delicate morsel it had captured, and not scolding
at its ill-luck, as has been thought. That this is so is
evident, because I have shot these birds as they rose from
the water, and on dissection have sometimes found in
their stomachs or oesophagus an entire fish in which life

FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS. 215

was not quite extinct. Indeed, I can not see how the
kingfisher could utter a prolonged scream with a fish
struggling in its beak. When the captured fish, either
from its size or from any other cause, is retained in the
oesophagus until the bird alights, the movements of the
kingfisher in swallowing it are very like those of a pigeon
feeding its young. The neck shortens and swells, the
feathers are ruffled, and the wings slightly open and shut
two or three times.

A further examination, however, showed me that I
was wofully mistaken in my original statement. Not
having had my attention called to the subject particularly,
my casual observations had led me to suppose that I
knew the kingfisher perfectly, when, in fact, my ac-
quaintance with the bird was very slight. This dawned
upon me when I found the truth of my assertions in
" Nature " doubted by many ; and also, when I was as-
sured by careful observers that Mr. Darwin's remark did
apply to our species of kingfisher. Then I determined
to satisfy myself, and I began at once to study very care-
fully the habits of the bird in question. During 1873
and 1874 I took every opportunity possible of familiar-
izing myself with the daily routine of its life, with the
following result : In 1873 the whole season — from April
to November — was spent upon the water studying our
smaller fresh-water fishes, and my opportunities were
unusually good for observing the movements of a pair
of these birds. My daily record of observations shows
these kingfishers feeding, from one to four times a day,
for eighty-three days; or, in other words, during this
period I saw them dive for fishes one hundred and sixty-
six times, and either every plunge was unsuccessful or
the birds swallowed, before alighting, every fish they had
taken; making, of course, due allowance for their occa-

216 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

sional failures to seize their prey. This seemed to con-
firm my original impression, but, as a late ornithologist
of note has said, " The horizon of one man is at best
very limited, and many ornithological facts occur that are
not dreamed of in his philosophy." I repeated my observa-
tions through the spring and summer of the ensuing year.
My opportunities were equally good, and, much to my
satisfaction, I have a quite different story to relate. It
is proper, however, to state that during the summer of
1873 my observations were made altogether in a very
limited locality — the summit level of a canal — and were
confined to one pair of birds. During the subsequent
year, I watched the kingfishers in several different locali-
ties, and my note-books make mention of these birds
from two to six times per day, for one hundred and one
days, or a total of about four hundred observations. Of
this series I have to say that in eighty-eight instances the
kingfisher captured and, alighting, deliberately beat the
fish against the limb of the tree, and afterward swallowed
it. Thus it will be seen that this habit is by no means
constant, as less than one fourth of the fish taken were
killed before being swallowed ; though, on the other hand,
it is evident that I was wide of the mark in stating that
the fish is always swallowed without being first killed.

There is, of course, some cause for this difference in
the habits of these birds, and I believe it may be ex-
plained in this way : as already stated, my observations
during 1873 were confined to a single pair of these birds,
in one locality ; and the obvious reason why these par-
ticular kingfishers always swallowed their prey as soon as
caught was because they fed exclusively on the very small
but extraordinarily numerous cyprinoids frequenting this
artificial sheet of water. I know, of my own fishing ex-
perience (pursued after a different manner, however),

FEEDING HABITS OF KINGFISHERS. 217

that millions of cjprinoids or minnows were found there,
as though they soitght in this canal an asylum from the*
attacks of carnivorous fishes, which are quite rare, as
compared with the number in the river near by.

During the season of 1874 I took notes on such king-
fishers as were seen about two creeks, a mill-pond, and
the Delaware River. In each of these localities large
fishes of many kinds are more or less abundant, and the
percentage of small cyprinoids — from two to four inches
long — being much smaller than in the canal, it would
evidently be irksome to so voracious a bird as the king-
fisher to wait until fish of the proper size for swallowing
without preliminary butchering should come within reach.
It therefore, in some measure, seems to depend upon the
size of the captured fish whether or not it is killed by the
kingfisher before it is swallowed.

Both habits having been found to be true of this bird,
it is desirable to know why the habit of killing the fish
before eating it should be the invariable practice of this
bird in some localities, as stated. I can only suggest
that this may depend upon the anatomical characteristics
of the fishes caught. When an abundance of cyprinoids,
which are fishes with soft-rayed fins, are to be obtained,
then little or no preparation is necessary to make them
fit for food ; but if young perch with their spiny fins,
or tough, hard-scaled fish of any family, have to be de-
pended upon, then the kingfisher is forced to prepare the
food before it can be safely swallowed.

10

CHAPTER XXY.

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS.

DOUBTLESS the little saw-whet owl can withstand any
degree of cold — belonging to a circumpolar family, he
ought — but, nevertheless, he is always to be found on the
sunny side of a tree, and along hill-sides with a southern
exposure. If he comes close to the house, he will find a
cozy corner where the sunshine strikes in full force, and
where never a breath of the north wind can enter.
Twice I have found them on the south side of the barn,
where they had arranged roomy nests, and had occupied
them for weeks. Not a single nest, large enough for
three, but each for itself had a protected perch, whereon
it sat and meditated by day, and from which in the even-
ing it sallied forth in search of food, returning, however,
long before dark. None of our birds, either resident
species or winter visitors, are partial to north winds.
Even horned larks and snow-buntings will keep out of
the wind and stay on the leeward slopes of snow-clad
fields ; and when our moisture-laden northeast wind pre-
vails, then birds of all kinds, even to the crows, seek
shelter ; and miles of walking will not give you, perhaps,
a glimpse of a single stray feather.

To return to the saw-whet. Generally in a dense
cedar — one surrounded by other trees, and not standing
alone — and also in a tangled mass of green-brier or grape-
vine that has lodged in the upper branches of some tall

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 219

tree, you will likely find the resting-place of this, the
smallest of our owls. A remnant of a leaf-nest, made by
the gray squirrels as a winter home, is likewise a favorite
roost, and from it the watchful little owlet scans the im-
mediate neighborhood, and knows just where he is likely
to find a shrew, sparrow, field-mouse, or Hesperomys. It
is not his habit, ordinarily, to forage by day, but he is
not oblivious to the diurnal movements of his neighbors,
nevertheless. If occasion requires, saw-whet will sally
out in broad daylight, moving with a noiseless, bat-like
flight, but with all the confidence of a sparrow-hawk. It
is correct, in a degree, to consider this owl nocturnal in
its habits, but not so strictly so that his presence by day
should excite any surprise on the part of the beholder.

In speaking of the allied Tengmalm's owl and of this
species, Dr. Coues remarks that " they are among the
most perfectly nocturnal birds of the family." * If by
" nocturnal " is meant that these birds are more active as
the absence of light becomes more marked; that their
activity increases with departing daylight, then it is not
true of them. To say that owls are crepuscular, partial
to cloudy days, and delight in clear moonlight nights, is
true, just as it is of the herons, night-hawks, whippoorwill,
and chimney-swifts ; and, among mammals, of the bats.
I am disposed, furthermore, to believe that their vision
is not as good as that of the night-heron or of a bat on,
comparatively speaking, dark nights. I find in our up-
land woods, if the day is cloudy, that the long-eared owl
moves about quite as freely as any of our hawks ; and
in the meadows, especially during September, when the
reed-birds congregate in the marshes, the short-eared or
marsh-owl is about by day, and skims quietly over the

* " Birds of Northwest." Page 3H. Washington, 1874 (Government
Printing-Office.)

220 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

reeds and tall grasses in search of wounded birds ; know-
ing that many such are to be found by following in the
wake of gunners, who murderously discharge their guns
at the dense flocks of reed-birds, and wounding a dozen
often where one is killed. That the little red owl is
quite himself while the sun shines, is known to every
country lad. That all these owls love the twilight, no
one can doubt ; but that their activity increases with the
growing darkness, is not true of any of the nine species
of owls that I have found in this vicinity.

Although I have found these saw-whet owls at all
seasons, I am not quite sure that I have ever heard their
voices. The " saw-mill " note, of which Audubon speaks,
I have never heard to recognize it ; nor the bell-like note
mentioned by other writers. When I have captured
them alive, they made the usual clicking noise with the
beak, and faintly murmured, as nearly as I can express
it ; but beyond this I have heard no utterance.

A neighbor, on the accuracy of whose observations I
can rely, has had better luck in this respect, and describes
to me the note of this owl as expressed fairly well by
the syllables tlee-klee, tlee-Jdee, twice or thrice repeated.
Then an intermission of a minute or more, and the note
or notes are repeated. He further says he has heard it
during dull, cloudy days in summer, and early in the
evening, but at no other time of the year. It is not, of
course, to be inferred from this that the saw-whet does
not utter its peculiar cry in autumn and winter, or late at
night. Being nocturnal in its habits to the extent that
are all owls, of course it must do so ; but, on the other
hand, it is additional evidence that this species is not as
strictly nocturnal as has been supposed.

A word about the voices of owls. It is common to
speak of these birds as " hooting," but what is meant by

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 221

this term is not very clear. The little screech-owl has a
variety of notes, not one of which is suggestive of a
" hoot," as I understand the meaning of the word. The
long-eared owl is known here as the " cat-owl," because
its voice resembles much the mewing of that animal.
The great horned or eagle-owl has the nearest to a " hoot-
ing " note, perhaps, but it is far less gloomy than one might
suppose. In broad daylight it would attract and inter-
est one ; and only because it is heard at night, when few
other sounds but the hum of insects are to be heard,
does it, popularly speaking, " fill one with dread." These
large owls fret, cackle, laugh, and chatter, rather than
" hoot." The barn-owls, although abundant, do not often
"give tongue." Have they learned wisdom by experi-
ence, and fear that by hooting they will only make their
whereabouts better known ? Not long ago, however, I
heard one of them scream to some purpose. On the 5th
of May, 1883, my nephew discovered a nest of this owl,
containing six eggs and the mother bird. With some
difficulty she was secured and placed in a covered basket.
With her new surroundings she was evidently disgusted,
and soon uttered the shrillest and most unearthly scream
I have ever heard from beast or bird. It may be repre-
sented by the letters Jcr-r-r-r-r-r — ick ! Commencing as
a low murmur, the volume of sound gradually increased
until it became an ear-piercing shriek, ending suddenly
with a click. The bird at the time opened its beak
widely, and closed it suddenly with the ending of the
utterance. It was several times repeated.

I say it was the wildest scream I ever heard. Not
so ; once, a year or more before, while passing along
the wooded bank of Watson's creek at night, I was
fairly frightened by a wild scream I had never heard
before, and failed then to identify. What manner of

222 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

bird or mammal uttered it was then and subsequently a
mystery, until the captured owl screamed as I have de-
scribed. Then I knew. It was the same cry ; but this
time louder, wilder, more unearthly than before.

In the interesting series of weather proverbs published
recently as " Signal Service Notes, No. IX," there are
three references to the hooting of owls, no one of which,
I think, merits attention as a weather-sign. It is said, for
instance, that " owls hooting indicate rain." "What of
the owls that cry so persistently during the summer
drought that, early or late, is sure to corne ? For the
past eleven years we have had a " dry spell " of four to
six weeks' duration every summer, yet the owls did not
fail to hoot. So too, in winter, the cat-owls scream every
night, whatever the weather.

Again, " if owls scream in foul weather, it will change
to fair." Probably, but not because the owls scream.
During protracted rain-storms in autumn, and particular-
ly in November, the short-eared owls that frequent the
meadows are exceedingly noisy. Day and night, if two
or three chance to roost in the same tree, they will hoot
in concert, from sunset to midnight, and no more on the
day preceding a " clearing up " of the weather than dur-
ing the first of half a dozen rainy days. More strange
than all, it is said, "if owls hoot at night, expect fair
weather." When, if not at night, do owls hoot ? To be
sure, the marsh-owl screams during the day occasionally.
So, too, do the snowy and great horned owls ; but some
unusual occurrence prompts this. Surely, the regular
hooting hours of all owls are after they have left their
roosting-places and are moving about, either in search
of company or hunting for food, and this is after sunset.

The principal food of our owls, except the saw-whet,
is the ever-abundant field-mouse. I know that both

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 223

the snowy owl and the great horned owl capture mice ;
the former hunting them with much skill, if there are
stretches of bare ground accessible, during the weeks in
midwinter when these birds visit us. The equally rare
barred owl, too, cares more for a mouse than for a chicken
or pigeon ; and I have long insisted that whatever of
valued bird-life, even, these large owls may destroy, really
counts for little in comparison to the good they do in de-
stroying field-mice. Certainly, owls, as a class, merit our
protection, and should be spared the senseless persecution
to which they are subjected. The loss of a chicken or
quail or grouse signifies little indeed, when we consider
the value of all checks to the increase of mice. These
creatures multiply so rapidly, and work so much destruc-
tion in cultivated fields the year through, that any
mouse-eating animal, whether owl or hawk, is a bene-
factor to mankind. The persecution to which owls and
hawks have been subjected, even in many localities to
the verge of extinction, has resulted in losses to the
farmer, by the resulting increase in field-mice, quintu-
ple the value of all the poultry that might have been
destroyed had birds of prey been reasonably abundant.
These may appear rash statements, hastily expressed, but,
in reality, are my firm convictions — the results of careful
observation and study of the habits of these birds for
fully twenty years.

No objection, however, can be urged against the saw-
whets, on the score of their diet. In winter, a mouse or a
snow-bird satisfies them for a week or more ; and during
the other seasons, insects, whenever attainable, are their
favorite food. Black crickets, brown grasshoppers, and
even pea-green katydids, are eaten in large numbers. So,
too, the larger moths are eagerly devoured. I am inclined
to believe that one reason why we see so few large moths,

224: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

such as the cecropia, polypheme, promethean, and lunar
moths, in comparison to the number of cocoons that are
to be found during the winter clinging to the bushes, is
that no sooner are the matured insects on the wing than
this owl, the little red owl, and the bats, attack them. I
have twice found the remnants of many wings of these
four moths in the hollows of trees where the sawr-whets,
for the time, were living. This fact, further, was once
very forcibly brought to my attention by an annoying
incident. For several summers I have been anxious to
secure a good example of the rare walnut-moth (Cerato-
campa Tegalis), and during a pleasant August evening last
summer was delighted to see one fluttering against the
window, struggling to enter the room, where a bright
light was burning. I hurried out of doors to capture my
prize, but was too late. A saw-whet owl that had been
roosting in a pine-tree near by had also seen the moth,
and, pouncing down, seized it while I was reaching up-
ward for the same purpose.

Prior to 1877 I had not found any specimens of this
owl in the neighborhood. On January 16th of that year,
after two weeks of quite uniform cold and snowy weather,
it proved warm, rainy, and a dense fog prevailed. A few
birds of several kinds twittering in the cedars drew me
out of doors, and I found, to my surprise, that the snow-
birds, sparrows, titmice, and kinglets had discovered one
of these little owls in a cedar-tree, and were discussing its
presence with many emphatic chirps and twitters.

It is always a safe conclusion that something unusual
has occurred, when different birds congregate about one
spot, and are unusually noisy and demonstrative. Re-
membering this, led me to discovering the saw-whet — the
first living specimen I had ever seen.

Since then these owls have been found hero every

THE SAW-WHET AND OTHER OWLS. 225

year, not merely as visitors but as residents. They nest
in the hollow apple-trees of my neighbor's orchard, and
once a nest was built in a remnant of a " leaf -nest " of a
gray squirrel. But one brood, I think, is raised.

Young birds of the characteristic, uniform, chocolate-
brown color are as common as those with the mottled
plumage of adult life. The plumage, in fact, varies much
more in this species than with the little screech or red
owl. The latter may be red or gray ; but the saw-whets
vary indefinitely as to the degree of mottling. Particu-
larly is this true of the facial disk. I have seen it pure
white, with scarce a trace of color about the eyes; and
again, the dark rim of the orbits was so wide that
but little white was noticeable as the bird sat facing you.
There are many other characteristic features, however,
always present, which render it easy at all times to in-
stantly recognize the pretty, innocent, and wise little saw-
whet.

CHAPTER XXVI.

NOTES ON OUK HERONS.

IF those who are fond of watching the habits of our
many birds should happily have ready access to a consid-
erable expanse of meadow, with here and there a clump of
trees, and with a creek meandering through it, or can
wander along a goodly stretch of heavily wooded river-
shore, they will doubtless have abundant opportunities of
studying the habits of a class of birds that have ever been
to me the most interesting of all.

Being so different from all the others, both in ap-
pearance and behavior, and forming, as they do, a promi-
nent feature in the landscape that brings us into closest
communion with " untamed nature," these birds, known
collectively as the herons or Ardeidce, offer an exhaustless
fund of instruction to the field naturalist.

In the vicinity of my home I have noted, during rny
rambles, the great blue heron, the great white, the snowy
egret, the little blue, the green, the two night-herons, and
both the bitterns.

The first mentioned of this goodly list is now by no
means abundant, and the white egrets are seen even less
frequently. The smaller blue heron seems quite indiffer-
ent to temperature, and single specimens are often met
with in winter, associated with the very common night-
heron, which latter is at times a winter resident, though

NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 227

as a rule it is migratory in its habits. As an instance of
this I may mention that, during the winter of 1S69-'70,
and for several years since, a family of common night-
herons have occupied the pine-trees in a large and heavily
wooded yard in the city of Trenton, N. J. In this yard
is a pond which is fed by a lively spring, and which, dur-
ing the above-mentioned winter, in consequence of the
mild weather, was quite free from ice, the vegetation near
it being comparatively green. The many frogs, too, were
thoroughly active all winter, albeit without much if any
food, and the many small gold-fish and silvery-finned
minnows in the pond were as readily accessible to the
herons as in summer. These frogs and fish afforded
an abundant food-supply to these birds from November
to April. Occasionally they would go as far away as the
river, but they soon returned, having probably taken the
flight for exercise and not to search for food.

Least seldom seen, because with us so very shy, of all
these long-legged birds, if we except the great white her-
on, is the least bittern. I have seldom found more than
a single pair in the same neighborhood. When disturbed,
unlike the big bittern or "bog-trotter," it gives no
hoarse croak as it takes wing, but with an easy flight it
goes a short distance and drops again into the long grass,
where it is, I judge, most at home. It does not feed on
fish and frogs exclusively, but pursues with wonderful
agility the grasshoppers that climb the blades of tall grass
and the stems of reeds. Finding a nest, in 1873, I took
a position near by, in hopes of seeing something of the
movements of the parent birds when unmolested ; but in
this I was disappointed, except so far as to determine
that they returned to the nest on foot. For the two hours
that I watched them they came and went continually,
but not once did they fly as high as the tops of the

228 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

rushes. Dr. Cones has mentioned a resemblance of this
bittern to the rail-birds, and, when a good opportunity
offers to see them undisturbed, this resemblance in their
habits, and especially in their movements, is readily seen.
"While the larger bittern and the herons have each a
stately walk, and perhaps can not run, this little bittern
will run whenever the ground will permit ; and it can
twist and turn in and out among the reeds and rushes with
all the agility of a king-rail. I have several times seen
them, associated with the soras, run out from the grass
to the muddy banks of the ditches, and along them for
several yards, and then dart in again, never, the while,
taking a step that could be called a " walk." Neverthe-
less, they can step along most majestically ; and when, as-
suming for the time the proper family characteristics, they
fish or go a-f rogging, they act their part with due proprie-
ty ; but they seemingly prefer to act like rail-birds, and in
this respect we see in them a similarity to the habits of
the shrike when it simulates the hawks.

It sometimes happens that during certain summers
many of these herons, of the rarer species, are exceed-
ingly abundant for a short time, and then disappear
altogether. This is due, not to any peculiarity of the
weather, so far as temperature alone is concerned, but to
those occasional excessive rainfalls which result in tem-
porarily flooding the large tracts of meadow-land that
skirt the river. These meadows are usually dry, except
in scattered small areas, but when submerged they afford
a desirable hunting-ground for a brief period. A notable
instance of this occurred in 1875.

On Monday, August 2d, of that year, it began raining
early in the morning, and continued to rain, except dur-
ing a few brief intervals, until Friday, the 20th. The
wind varied only from southeast to south. About ten

NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 229

and one tenth inches of rain fell in these nineteen days,
and, as a consequence, there was a heavy summer freshet,
the meadows skirting the river being submerged to a
depth of from two to six feet.

On the 14th a flock of thirty snowy egrets made their
appearance, keeping much together, avoiding the clumps
of tall trees, and at times associating very familiarly with
a flock of domestic geese. Occasionally, the great blue
herons were seen in scanty numbers, either by themselves
or associated with the white herons, and every day there
were numbers of the small, blue herons, but these excited
no comment from those familiar with the locality, as they
are very abundant every year, and at all times. Indeed,
these — the night-herons and great bitterns — are fixtures
of our meadows, and not to see them would be far more
strange to " the folks at home " than is their appearance
to the stranger, who for the first time sees and hears
them, as they are fishing in, or flying over, the creek
near by.

August 17th, a small flock of great, white egrets, or
herons, made their appearance, and associated familiarly
with the smaller, snowy egrets that had preceded them
by three days. A tract of level meadow, of some seventy
acres in extent, seemed particularly attractive to these
birds, and I had excellent opportunities for watching their
habits during their brief stay.

It is proper here to mention that even flfty years ago
both of these white egrets or herons were much more
common along the Delaware River, from May to Septem-
ber, but they have now so far forsaken the neighborhood,
especially during the past twenty years, that their pres-
ence now excites surprise, even when single specimens
are seen " flying over." How great the change has been
since the settlement of the country by Europeans, can be

230 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

realized when we compare our own meager notes of these
birds, and indeed of all the herons, with the remarks made
by Kalm in the middle of the last century. " Cranes,"
he says, at the beginning of the century (1TOO), " came
hither [along the Delaware] by hundreds in the spring;
at present [1748] there are but very few ; and," he adds
in a foot-note, " when Captain Amadas, the lirst English-
man that ever landed in North America, set foot on shore
(to use his own words), 'such a flocke of Cranes (the
most part white) arose under us with such a cry, redou-
bled by many echoes, as if an armie of men had shouted
together.' ': In a subsequent notice of our herons he
says, under date of February IT, 1749 : " Cranes were
sometimes seen flying in the day-time to the northward.
They commonly stop here early in the spring for a short
time, but they do not make their nests here, for they
proceed on more to the north. Certain old Swedes told
me that, in their younger years, as the country was not
yet much cultivated, an incredible number of cranes were
here every spring, but at present (1749) they are not so
numerous." As Kalm here refers to the western sand-
hill crane, it is a matter of much interest, for this bird has
not been known east of the Alleghanies, except as strag-
glers, during the present century.

But to return to the white herons. My studies of
the habits of birds during the past twenty years have fre-
quently suggested to me that when any bird or flock of
birds deliberately choose to frequent a very limited local-
ity for a comparatively long time, notwithstanding the
danger occasioned by the presence of man, their habits
would show the possession of faculties that can not be
considered simply instinctive, but which indicate the ex-
ercise of unusual care, forethought, and deliberation, in
their endeavors to avoid real or supposed dangers from

NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 231

tins source. To what extent this is true is, I think,
partly shown in the notes I have taken in the field from
Aug. 14: to Sept. 9, 1875, inclusive. Just how these
movements should be interpreted the reader must judge
for himself, but I think the explanation here given is
most in accord with the facts, which I regret my inability
to describe as clearly as might be desirable. Valuable as
they undoubtedly are, written descriptions give but a
faint idea of the varied movements and daily habits of
our birds, which must be seen to be really appreciated.

Now it is very evident, I may state at the outset, that
these great white herons know that their size and color
render them quite conspicuous ; and I noticed every day
the same movements on their part, w^hich demonstrated
their appreciation of this fact. They invariably kept in
the middle of the tract of meadow, unless when feeding,
and then never ventured nearer than, say, one hundred
yards to the wooded margins of the meadow, or to the
near outstanding trees. This shyness, as it would be
called, was not of itself at all remarkable, but as it was
accompanied with another habit having direct relation to
it, it was very curious and clearly indicated reason. This
other habit was that of rising to a very great height
always when passing over woods, as was necessaiy on
coming in from the river, along the banks of which I be-
lieve they had their roosting-places. While the less timid
blue herons would pass leisurely along the tree-tops, not
a dozen yards above them, the great white herons, on
being disturbed, or when voluntarily leaving the mead-
ow, would rise rapidly to an unusual height, and, appar-
ently keeping directly over the spot where they had been
standing, would not commence an onward flight until the
upward one was sufficiently prolonged to assure them that
they were wholly out of harm's way. So, when returning

232 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

to the meadow, they would, as it were, drop from the
clouds, while the blue species would quietly wing their
way along at a height of from ten to forty metres.

Now, inasmuch as no white egrets have, in any num-
bers, visited this locality for several years, and as in the
Southern States they are little, if at all, more wary than
the blue herons, it seems to me to follow necessarily that
their peculiarity of flight, as instanced in avoiding sup-
posed dangers, could not be hereditary, and was really
an exercise of unusual care and forethought on the part
of these birds ; a mental operation identical with thought
in man, and having nothing whatever in common with
instinct as understood by us.

Why, indeed, a flock of these great white herons, for
nearly four weeks, should frequent daily a tract of meadow
so small as this of seventy acres, it would be very diffi-
cult if not impossible to determine ; but such being the
case, I naturally endeavored to mark their feeding-habits
carefully, and this, with the aid of a powerful glass, I
was able to do. Their food consisted exclusively, while
on the meadows, of frogs and grasshoppers, and especially
of the latter, which were very abundant, and which, hav-
ing been caught by the freshet while in the long grass,
were so wet and draggled that they could not escape by
flight. The smaller herons seemed always occupied in
gathering up these grasshoppers, and never stopped to
plume themselves or take a quiet nap, standing on one
leg, as the blue herons are so fond of doing. The great
white herons, on the contrary, seemed to weary of gather-
ing grasshoppers and frogs, and would spend much time
in dressing their feathers ; but, while really undisturbed,
they never ceased to be suspicious, and the little flock
seemed to have a mutual understanding for their common
safety, as every fifteen or twenty minutes one of their

NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 233

number would rise well up into the air and circle slowly
about, as if to see if the coast was clear. If at such a time
any person was noticed approaching, or I purposely showed
myself too near them, the flying heron would give a loud,
shrill call, and they would all rise up immediately and be
gone for perhaps an hour. I frequently disturbed them,
and so uniform was their action at such a time, that I
could describe in advance to a friend what would be their
movements when alarmed. So unvarying was their
method of leaving and returning to the meadow that it
seemed only explicable by considering it the predeterm-
ined routine, resulting from a consultation had among
themselves, when circumstances first led them to the spot
in question.

As an instance, also, of these birds evidently " study-
ing the situation," I daily noticed a change in their habits,
as the waters began to subside and restricted their range
of submerged land. Not once did I see these white
herons light upon dry land or in any of the trees, while
in both places the blue herons did so continually. These
more careful, timid if you will, white herons unquestion-
ably realized fully that an open meadow, even when only
six or eight inches under water, afforded no cover for
their arch enemy, man, but felt that he might crawl dan-
gerously near in the long, tangled grass, now again ex-
posed. The indication of this evident train of thought
on the part of the herons consisted in the marked increase
of suspicion, and the steadily increasing number of cir-
cular flights, on the part of some of their number, to see
if any danger was near.

It were useless to endeavor to give a detailed account
of their many interesting movements, all of which were
so indicative of thought ; but the whole series of observa-
tions, as I now recall them, and the perusal of my many

234: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

brief field-notes, more than ever fully convince me that
these herons, like all our birds, depend upon and owe their
success in life more to the quality of their reasoning power
than they do to the mere operations of blind instinct.

While the vocal efforts of the herons can not be com-
mended for their melody, there is, nevertheless, a wealth
of suggestiveness in the hoarse quok ! of the night-heron,
as it slowly wings its way above you in the dim twilight.
The " booming " of the great bittern is by no means an
unpleasant sound, except perhaps to those who have no
ear for Nature's varied voices, and no eye for beauty, as
it is found in precincts man has not marred by his pres-
ence. Perhaps nowhere, in this sadly artificial region
where I chance to dwell, is there left a trace of primitive
times so pleasant to contemplate as the meadow and
creek-side, when, in the gloaming, the herons come from
their noonday haunts, and fishing in the still waters, or
flying from point to point above my head, they call to
each other, and express perhaps the whole range of their
communicable thoughts in the one, unvarying, monoto-
nous note, quok !

The scarcely less harsh cry of the green heron, too, is
not an unwelcome sound to me, and I ahvays greet with
pleasure the first time that I hear it, in the early spring.

A few words, in conclusion, about the nesting and
other habits of this well-known bird. Certainly it must
be well known, for no bird in the whole fauna seems to
be so abundantly endowed with " heaps upon heaps " of
meaningless names. Never yet have I heard it called a
green heron, heron, or little heron ; but always, " poke,"
" fly-up-the-creek," " chuckle-head," " bastard wood-cock,"
and so, ad infinitum. Why, indeed, these birds should
be singled out in this manner, and ridiculed by a multi-
plicity of defamatory names, I have yet to learn.

NOTES ON OUR HERONS. 235

As to its habits, there is in nearly every family of
birds some one or more species that have taken more or
less completely upon themselves habits- not characteristic
of the family. This is true, in a measure, of the little
green heron. It is the least aquatic of all the family ;
for, while strictly a wader and a good fisher, it neverthe-
less is not so dependent upon water for a food-supply, and
is often found in high and dry fields, looking, I suppose,
for grasshoppers. Time and again have I seen them in
the woods, where no water was to be found except that
which collected about the few small springs, and which
often did but little more than dampen the ground. Like
our spotted sandpiper, dear " teeter tilt up " of my boy-
hood, which often builds in the upland fields, and is as
much at home on a worm-fence as is the sparrow, the
green heron will nest in trees where there is no water
near, and remain there night and day, the greater part of
the time. Not that they do not visit the nearest creeks,
for this they frequently do ; but, unlike the herons gener-
ally, they are not less a feature of our uplands than are
the common birds of our door-yards. Their nests, too,
are built much nearer to houses than are those of any other
heron. These nests are flimsy structures ; often not over
a hundred twigs, loosely laid together, constituting the
home of the expected brood ; and lucky are they if it
holds together until they are able to crawl upon some
convenient branch to await the growth and feathering of
their wings. One little colony of these herons built, last
summer, in a clump of birches near the house, and I
think one third of the eggs, at least, were broken by fall-
ing through the nests ; nearly all of which were so open
that the eggs could readily be seen from beneath. How
the sitting bird kept them warm enough to insure their
hatching is a puzzle. That it was accomplished by con-

236 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

tact with her body seems incredible. But if wofully poor
nest-builders, and painfully awkward brooders, they are
attentive parents, and as long as the young herons are de-
pendent, they are by no means neglected.

Among the changes in fauna that have occurred
within historic times, the disappearance of the cranes
should here be noted. Dr. Turnbull, in his " Birds of
East Pennsylvania and New Jersey," remarks : " The
Whooping-crane (Grus Americanus) may be said to have
disappeared, not even a straggler having been seen for
some years. It likewise seems to have been once very
plentiful ; for we read in Hakluyt's * Voyages,' edition
1589, folio 729, that Captain Philip Amadas and his fel-
low-adventurers, who visited and explored the coast in the
year 1584, < having discharged their harquebus-shot, such a
flocke of Cranes (the most part white) arose, with such a
crye, redoubled by many echoes, as if an armie of men
had showted altogether.' "

On page 230 I have given Kalm's remarks on the
former occurrence of cranes in New Jersey, and referred
them to the sand-hill crane of the "Western States. Dr.
Turnbull considers that the Swedish naturalist referred
more particularly to the whooping crane. This may pos-
sibly be true ; for, as Dr. Turnbull remarks, it was known
to breed in Cape May County, in Wilson's and Audu-
bon's time, and stragglers have been seen as recently as
1857. It is more than probable, however, that both spe-
cies were once abundant, and the sand-hill crane the more
abundant of the two.

CHAPTER XXVII.

NOTES ON THE WOOD-DUCK.

WANDERING along the weedy, tangled margin of a
quiet inland creek, where giant elms and scarcely smaller
maples throw sombre shadows at evening and deepen the
gloom, I saw moving slowly before me a pretty wood-
duck that gave me but a moment to look ere it disap-
peared, not by flight but by diving, and as it passed out
of sight, here and there on the still waters suddenly
moved and then likewise disappeared, one after another,
several hitherto-unnoticed ducklings. I had no opportu-
nity then to watch them further.

On my way home, however, I fell to thinking, and
wondered, considering that wood-ducks built their nests
in trees, how it was that they got their young to the
water, oftentimes nearly a mile away. It was the month
of June, and I purposed solving this question if it should
happen to be my good luck to find a still occupied nest.
Day after day I searched every probable and possible
nesting-place, and finally, where I scarcely hoped for any
trace of ducks or even wood-peckers, in an old decayed
apple-tree I found a nest with young birds that were just
hatched. How I rejoiced over my discovery ! and know-
ing not how soon the old birds might remove the young,
I sought for a safe retreat from which I might watch the
tree and its occupants ; and while the day lasted I held
my place, but no ducks came near the brood. I wondered

238 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

if I had frightened them away. Early the next morning
I was at my post, and waited long hours without result,
but at last not in vain. In the distance, clearly limned
against the cloudless sky, I plainly descried a small duck.
Nearer and nearer the object came, and I felt sure that its
flight was directed to this very nest. Not so, for to
another and larger tree, a hundred yards distant, it finally
turned and alighted on an outer branch. It remained
there but a moment, and then sailed rather than flew to
the nesting-tree ; and, sitting alongside of the hollow limb
in which were the young, it seemed rather to be contem-
plating some of its own affairs than concerned about the
young ducklings, that, as freely as might a squirrel or
mouse, clambered about the limb and over the mother
duck. Doubtless they were anxious to get to a more
congenial home, and this wish was intensified by the be-
ginning of hunger, for it is doubtful if they are fed at
all until they are safely afloat in some quiet pond.

I had not long to wait before the modiis operandi of
the exodus in this case was learned. The old duck, by
sounds or actions, gave the little ducklings to understand
that they were to follow their mother, and presently she
slowly clambered down the trunk of the tree, which
grew at an angle of forty-five degrees from the level sur-
face of the ground, and was followed by the ducklings.
A curious procession they made, truly, and one that in
times of plentiful minks and weasels would doubtless have
proved dangerous. E~o sooner had the last young duck
reached the ground than I essayed to follow, but so rapid
were their movements, and so zigzag their route, that it
was no easy work, as the long grass often effectually con-
cealed them. But I caught occasional glimpses, and
found that with but little deviation from the most direct
route they had wormed their way to the nearest water.

NOTES ON THE WOOD-DUCK.

In less than a minute, probably, I reached a point near
them and the spot at which they entered the water ; but
the old duck heard me, and with a loud " quack," unlike
the common quacking of a tame duck, away she flew,
while the little ducklings, catching her meaning, dived, I
suppose, and hid in the bulrushes along the shore. At
any rate, I never saw either the young birds or the old
duck again.

There is one fact, too, that has an important bearing
on this subject. It is well known to those who have
tried to rear young wood-ducks, that the newly-hatched
birds have long, sharp, really cat-like toe-nails ; and by
their aid the little ducklings, while yet bits of shell cling
to their backs, can clamber over the limbs of trees, and
up any almost perpendicular surface, if at all rough. I
have never compared their feet with those of other ducks,
but do know that their toe-nails are very sharp and render
climbing easy.

It is a common practice in this neighborhood to search
for the nests of the wood-duck, and place the eggs under
a barn-yard fowl. Young ducks, thus reared, become
quite tame, but it is considered necessary, as soon as the
young are hatched, to nip the points of their nails with
a pair of scissors. Unless this is done, the old women
that " 'tend poultry " say the young ducks will climb up
any wood- work and seek out the nearest water. I was a
little skeptical on this point at first, but have been con-
vinced, having seen a brood of young ducks climb up
rough boards a distance of three feet, and let themselves
down on the other side. These boards were worse than
perpendicular ; they leaned over toward the ducks. So
it matters not where the nest happens to be, as no tree is
so smooth that, by hook or by crook, the young wood-
ducks could not get down, even if the old birds did not

240 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

lend them some assistance. From what occurred in my
neighbor's poultry-yard, I should think young wood-ducks
might venture pretty much anywhere that a squirrel
would climb. Their scansorial ability is undoubtedly
equal to all occasions, and must be taken into considera-
tion when the manner of the exodus of the young ducks
from any nest is a matter of doubt.

Two years later I found another duck's nest. In this
instance the nest was fully fifty feet above the water,
in a tangled mass of twigs and grape-vine, on a huge
buttonwood that grew from the water's edge and towered
nearly one hundred feet above the creek. The creek-bank
here was a steep bluff of about three fourths of the height
of the tree, and over all of the slope was a dense growth
of moderate-sized maples, sassafras, and cedars. Having
by chance found the nest, I hunted for a tree growing
on the bluff that would afford a good view of the nest.
Finally succeeding, I took up my position, and with the
aid of a field-glass discovered the duck sitting very quietly
on her nest. Day after day I returned, and on the sixth
from the date of discovery of the nest, the eggs were
hatched. Now my interest was fully up to the require-
ments of the occasion, and I was determined, at all cost,
to see how the duck would solve the riddle — as it was to
me — of removing these ducklings to the water. Go they
must, and that speedily, for the old mother, however de-
sirous, could not carry food to the young — at any rate,
she did not. There they were, fifty feet above the water,
in a tree smooth of bark and almost perpendicular. How
I trembled with impatience to know what would happen,
and how long it seemed ! Would they climb down so
tall a tree ? If so, I trusted I should be on hand to wit-
ness the descent.

Two days passed, and still these little fellows stuck to

NOTES ON TEE WOOD-DUCK.

their nest, not even creeping beyond its boundaries ; but
on the third I was rewarded for my persistence, for on
taking my position in the neighboring tree, I saw that
some of the young had disappeared, and I felt sure the
others would soon follow, unless, indeed, their fellows had
fallen from the nest. This proved not to have been the
case, for, in the course of half an hour, the old duck made
her appearance, and now I fairly held my breath as I
watched her with my glass. After a moment's rest she
squatted closely down on the nest, and a duckling quickly
climbed upon her back and nestled closely between her
shoulders. The old bird then walked slowly to the very
edge of an overhanging limb, and with outspread wings,
with a slow, flapping motion of them, let herself down,
rather than flew, to the water. The moment she touched
the surface of the stream she dived, and left the duckling
swimming on the water, and to all appearances perfectly
at home. This was repeated four times, when the tender
brood were all safely afloat, and as quick to scent danger
and flee from it as was their wary mother.
11

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A SOUTHERLY KATCT.

" WHAT about to-morrow ? " I asked Uz, as we stood
on the brow of the hill and gazed over the meadows at
our feet, now partially enveloped in a silvery mist.

Uz wet his forefinger and held it up, looking closely
at the movement of the few fleecy clouds above as he
did so. After a brief pause he replied, with the air of
one well convinced of the truth of his opinion, " There'll
be a southerly rain and ducks."

A word about weather predictions. I am compelled
to admit that I have faith in the judgment of men like
old Uz Gaunt, when they pronounce an opinion as to the
morrow or a day or two beyond ; but he, like all other
men, fails in the matter of foretelling seasons.

Uz does not like my referring to the winter of 1880-
'81. His prediction, which he early made known to me,
was quite the opposite of what the season proved to be.
He consoled himself, however, with the earnest protest,
that he was never before mistaken; and that "covers
three more than fifty years " since he commenced solving
the riddle of what the winters will be.

" Natur' knows what's comin'," he has often said to
me, " and Natur' gets ready for winter, to suit the sort of
weather it's goin' to be."

This is a common impression in my neighborhood,
and I presume is so everywhere ; but it will not stand the

A SOUTHERLY RAIK 243

test of statistics. Corn-husks, pigs' spleens, goose breast-
bones, squirrels' magazines of nuts, musk-rat houses, all
are relied upon by country people, but not one is trust-
worthy. Perhaps the position of the dark and light por-
tions of the breast-bones of geese (i. e., geese hatched
the previous spring) is more relied upon as an indication
of the " open " or cold weather of an approaching winter
than all the others ; but it can not be of any use, if for
no other reason than because, in a number of such bones
reported upon by as many different people, there was
nothing like unanimity ; and, strangely enough, it is yet
an open question whether the light portion of the bone
is indicative of "open" weather, and the dark portion
of cold, or vice versa.

What originally gave rise to these various signs is
well worth tracing ; but it is not to be dwelt upon here.

Having wandered too far already, let us take a back
track and return to the hill-top where Uz still is standing.
No man who, without any pretensions to " book-learning,"
studied Nature out-of-doors probably ever excelled Uz
Gaunt in correct impressions of Nature's methods. As
a sportsman, or u a gunner," as he called himself, he was
a success ; for no one could excel him in finding game,
or in bringing it down. This, however, never worried
me, for he generously gave me chances to shoot, although
I often failed to secure a duck which he would surely
not have missed. But Uz kept himself, at times, when
I was with him, so busied about the movements of the
birds he sought, and was so interested in determining
how nearly correct he had been in his calculations as to
their whereabouts, that he forgot to shoot when they
were flushed. Not long since, he sculled up to a flock of
widgeon which we could not see, but which he " knew "
were "just beyond that clump of alders." I had my

244 EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

doubts, and expressed them ; but he was very firm.
" They're skulkin' in there ; now see if they ain't," he
persisted, and so nearer and nearer we drew toward the
bushes. His gun, already cocked, lay in his lap, and I
was ready. Up they jumped, sure enough, and I got in
both barrels. Uz never thought of his gun, but ex-
claimed with pride, " I told you so ! " It was enough for
him to be correct in his opinion. Is it any wonder, then,
that in all matters pertaining to our local zoology I
should have found him both well posted and reliable ?

"When the to-morrow I mentioned at the opening of
this chapter came, it proved to be a warm, rainy day,
with a southerly wind, or " south-southerly," as he always
called it. By this he meant that the wind might shift
from southeast to southwest, possibly; but at all times
would be essentially " southerly." Uz was right in this,
and the rain came down in a steady pour, with now and
then a very brief intermission ; and the river was soon
swollen to the freshet stage. The meadows disappeared
beneath a covering of shallow waters ; and, better than
all else, the ducks came.

Early in the morning of the fourth day, Uz and I
stood on the hill-top and took a general survey of the
country before starting out. He noted the direction of
the wind, the general distribution of the clouds at the
time, and then, pointing toward the river with a signifi-
cant nod, quietly remarked, " I said so." I looked in the
direction indicated, and, sure enough, a long, zigzag line
of ducks was coming up the river. "Widgeon and
teal," he remarked after a pause, and then made a move
to go to the boat. I wondered how he knew they were
widgeon and teal, instead of black ducks and sprig-tails,
but forbore asking, and on we walked until we reached
the boat.

A SOUTHERLY EAIN. 245

A light cedar skiff, well trimmed with evergreens,
and just large enough to hold us both, it was a pleasant
thing to sit in when Uz did the sculling. With a
scarcely appreciable motion of the wrist, he caused the
boat to move rapidly yet noiselessly through the water,
and, in some way past my comprehension, he knew just
where a flock of ducks would be, if they tarried in the
overflowing meadows. This day it was a repetition of
the story that may be told by any one who has sculled
after ducks. At times we were too much for the ducks,
and, getting good shots, brought down several. Then,
again, the ducks were too much for us, and were out of
shot, in spite of all of Uz's ingenuity and our united care-
fulness.

There came a lull in the day's occupation, however,
of more interest to me than the shooting. This was
when we hauled up for a lunch and smoke. It met
with Uz's approbation as well as my own, and, when
our pipes were lighted, I drew him out as I had seldom
done before. It was a great treat to listen to what I
may call a natural naturalist, a man that had read
no zoological literature and never heard of Darwin or
Huxley.

" Ducks, it appears to me," remarked Uz, as he gazed
at the pile of a dozen lying in the boat, " either have a
strong smack of the human about them, or man has a

O /

little of the duck about him."

" Why so ? " I asked in surprise, for Uz was not much
given to voluntary philosophizing.

" Because they are so cunning, and do so many things
that we'd do in the same situation. Now, there's the
green mallards. They will skulk in long, green grass,
and keep their heads movin' with it, just so they can see
you, but you'd never mistrust they were around. 'You

246 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

don't see a widgeon do the same thing. They'll pitch
for some dead stuff, hay or rubbish, more their own
color."

" But ducks don't always have these chances," I pro-
tested, "and when there's nothing but water they've only
an even chance."

" That's very true when we're talking about the river,
or some big lake; but I'm talkin' of ducks on these
meadows. For something like fifty years I've shot over
this tract, and don't know about any other but by hear-
say ; but if you want to know what I think of our meadow
ducks, I'll tell you."

" Well, Uz, I won't interrupt again, and I do want to
hear all you've a mind to tell me."

"Take 'em for all in all," Uz continued, "the sprig-
tail is the shyest duck we have, and I've been outwitted
more by them than any other duck ; but, dear me ! there
ain't the ducks now there was when I was a young man.
I've seen a thousand at a glance on the lower meadows.
Well, as to the sprig-tails, the last time I had a chance at
a flock of 'em, worth speakin' of, was nigh on to ten years
ago. A good fall fresh' covered all the meadows, except
the high knolls, and I went down toward the Swan Island
flood-gates on Cross wicks Creek. Not a duck came near
the stools for well onto an hour, and I'd a mind to go
somewhere else, when I happen to see a bunch of teal
makin' right for me. I crouched down, and they came
in easy shot, and I blazed away. Fetched three and crip-
pled another, and then, what the snakes should jump up,
but a great swad of sprig-tails right back of me ! They'd
actually been walkin' about in the high grass back of me,
and I believe calculated their chances and knew I'd
be lookin' for ducks on the water, and not high and dry
on the knolls. I'd a good notion of sprig-tails' cunnin'

A SOUTHERLY RAIN.

before then, but that made me set 'em down as the cun-
nin'est of all ducks."

" Perhaps the ducks didn't see you," I suggested.

" Perhaps they didn't, only they did, just the same.
Why, boy," exclaimed Uz with unusual energy, " those
sprig-tails were within twenty yards of me all the time,
and to think I didn't even smell 'em ! "

Uz here took a few contemplative puffs, and watched
the curling smoke in silence. Then, in his usual quiet
manner, continued: "I'll tell you another thing about
sprig-tails. More than once I've noticed that they make
sort of slaves of smaller ducks. I've seen a dozen sprig-
tails circle 'round a lot of stools, and wait until the teal
that were with 'em sort of investigated the matter. The
teal would settle down near by, and all would seem right ;
and then the sprig-tails would settle, but always on the
off side of the stools ; and, if they got very near, they'd
smell a mouse and put off. I've often killed the teal
in a flock of sprig-tails, and lost every one of the others."

" But isn't it merely that the teal are less suspicious ? "
I asked, as Uz paused for a moment.

" No, not exactly," he replied ; " they are more sus-
pectin', I know ; but what I mean is, they go with the
teal for the purpose of havin' them go first into doubtful
places, and sort of test 'em. If no harm comes to them,
then the sprig-tails think it's safe for them, too."

" That is giving them credit for a good deal," I re-
marked.

" Not a speck more than's due 'em ; and here's an-
other way they're cunnin'. They haven't got owls' eyes,
I suppose, but go a good deal by smell ; and they'll leave
the river after sundown, and come in on the meadows to
feed when there's nobody to disturb 'em. I learned
their dodge, and tried night-huntin', but it was no use.

248 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

They'd feed by night where they'd never go by day, but
the whole place would be picketed, and you couldn't get
anywhere near 'em. Before your boat was shoved off,
1 quack ! ' would ja,wp some spy, and the whole kit and
caboodle would be off. I could hear their splash on the
water as they rose up, but couldn't see a feather."

" I've noticed all this too, Uz, but where is it like
human nature to do as you've described?"

" Just here — just here. The ducks we've left us in
these parts know at a glance that it's dangerous ground
for 'em, and so they learn at the start to be extra careful.
None of 'em are hatched about here, and couldn't know
beforehand they'd ever see such a place ; and yet, so
soon as the freshets bring 'em up the river, they take it
all in at once, and work accordin'. A wild duck is wild
anywhere ; but 'round here he's wilder than ever ; and
this bein' wilder only means that he has to be more care-
ful and cunnin', and so he is so. That is why I think a
duck has some sort of a mind. It's a hard-twisted sub-
ject, I know ; but the more I think of it, the more I've a
notion that there's a smack of man-nature in wild ducks,
or t' other way, just as you please."

"Most people would want stronger evidence than
you mention, Uz, to make them think so," I replied, not
knowing what to say, really.

" I s'pose they would — I s'pose they would ; but the
only way to see things as I do is to use my eyes. Follow
up the ducks and other critters about here, as I've done,
and they'll look very different to you from what they do
when you see 'em once a year only, and then in a m'nagerie.
Pshaw ! boy, it takes years to get to knowing birds and
things ; but when you do, you'll give 'em more credit for
common-sense than the crowd gives 'em. When you're
my age, boy, if you follow it up, you'll think as I do.'

A SOUTHERLY RAIN. 249

" I have been following up this matter for some time,
Uz, and have written something about it," I replied,
when he had fairly finished his little speech and com-
menced a vigorous puffing at his pipe.

"Written something? well, that's no harm. Did
you have it printed ? "

" Yes, certainly ; but why not ? "

" Well, there's just this about it," Uz remarked very
slowly, evidently thinking as he spoke. " It may be all
very well to print what you know; but I've a notion
that you're not old enough yet to know much about
it."

" You forget that you've been my teacher for some
years now, Uz," I interrupted the old man to remark.

" Cleverly put, boy ; but I was goin' on to say, you
don't know ducks as I do ; but then — but then — but
then, if you wait till you're as old as I am, and see things
as I do, the world might set you down as cranky, if you
printed what you thought."

" That isn't very encouraging, anyhow," I said, with
a half sigh.

" The fact is, boy, that it can't be proved, I suppose ;
but animals of all kinds are not so wide apart from folks
as these very folks think they are. If I've learned nothing
else, by shootin' and fishin' all my life, I've learned that.
I've seen common-sense in snakes and frogs even ; and
I'm satisfied there's a sort of family likeness runnin'
through the whole of us, whether we've got two legs or
four."

" That is the doctrine of evolution, Uz," I remarked.

" Call it what you choose, boy, but it's true ; and my
pipe's out, and it's time we were movin'." And we con-
tinued on our wanderings after ducks.

CHAPTER XXIX.

SIIOET STUDIES OF TURTLES.

IN the course of my rambles about home I have
found that the turtles and tortoises are quite as well rep-
resented as the serpents in the fauna of this neighbor-
hood.

In the upland fields and dry woodlands there is one
tortoise that is moderately abundant and quite at home.
A second is also occasionally met with. All other turtles
that we may chance to meet are either of an aquatic or a
semi-aquatic species, and have left their usual haunts but
temporarily. In the books it is, I know, otherwise stated,
and four of the ten species are mentioned as characteris-
tic of high and dry localities ; but this does not accord
with my experience, and it is thought to be an error.

The one common strictly upland species known, al-
though imperfectly, to everybody, is the box-tortoise or
"land-turtle." While this animal usually fails to rouse
any particular interest in the minds of those who meet
with it, still I never knew a person who did not pause
for a moment when one crossed his path. Indeed, it
generally happens that the creature is picked up, turned
over, shaken rudely, and scanned closely to see if any
name, initials, or date has been cut upon its shell. Fur-
thermore, its peculiar structure, its awkward gait, and the
habit of promptly withdrawing its head and limbs within
its portable house, and suddenly slamming the front door.

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 251

all cause the passer-by to gaze at it for a while ; though
these tortoises seldom have been closely followed up and
their peculiar lives made familiar to the world at large.
To most of us, it is best known as a convenient object upon
which to exercise our ingenuity in rude sculpture ; and
the " under shell " not unfrequently bears the initials, with
the date of carving, of some idler who pauses for a few
moments thus to cut what will perhaps prove to be the
most durable mark that he will ever make in this world.
This curious fancy, however, has proved to be not alto-
gether devoid of interest to the naturalist; for, assum-
ing that the dates are correct, it has been shown thereby
that this tortoise lives to a great age, and remains
throughout its life in one neighborhood. While there is
great danger in basing conclusions upon such uncertain
data, still it is highly improbable that in most cases
these dates are incorrectly given. There are far too
many instances known to families living in the country,
of marked tortoises being seen at intervals, year after year,
for several generations. My father recently informed me
that, when a boy, he frequently found a tortoise upon the
plastron of which were carved the letters " "W". W." ; and
that his father had stated to him that, when he was a
young man, this tortoise had frequently been found by
him. The letters were known to be the initials of one
who had lived near by many years previously. It was
known that eighty years had certainly elapsed since the
letters were carved. The tortoise was fully grown, and
probably was an old one when marked by William Wat-
son with his initials. In this connection it may be men-
tioned that the late Professor Agassiz stated the growth
of turtles to be " exceedingly slow. ... I have col-
lected data which prove satisfactorily that our common
Chrysemys picta does not lay eggs before it is ten or

252 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

eleven years old, and even then it is by no means full
grown."

While to a certain extent carnivorous in habit — it de-
vours earth-worms greedily — the box-tortoise is essentially
a vegetable feeder, and in summer depends largely upon
berries growing upon the ground. Strawberries, dew-
berries, and, later in the year, windfalls from fruit-trees,
form an important portion of their food. Decomposed
animal matter, also, is freely eaten. Dull, stupid, and
sluggish as these tortoises appear to be, they are not really
so inert as is usually thought. When two or three are
gathered together, and are left to themselves, they ex-
hibit a considerable degree of animation, and give evi-
dence of an intercommunication of ideas. As the result
of watching a pen of tortoises, myself remaining motion-
less and unseen by them, I became satisfied that they
took much notice of each other. They would often face
each other and crane their necks to the utmost, then
quickly, and with frequent repetition, snap their jaws and
occasionally utter a faint squeaky note, not unlike that of
a mouse. I have seen them, also, strike at each other
with their fore-feet, evidently in play, and then scamper
off in opposite directions with all possible speed. They
are likewise prone to anger, and have been known to
fight fiercely over a small supply of food. These con-
tests are a matter of jaws and toe-nails, both of which
are brought into play, but I never knew the foot of
one tortoise to become fastened in the shell of its op-
ponent.

I have never, to my knowledge, found the eggs of
this tortoise, but suppose that they are placed in the earth
in much the same manner as those of the aquatic species,
which leave the water early in the spring for the purpose
of ovipositing. More strangely still, I have never found

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 253

any very young specimens of the animal. The smallest
box-tortoise I have ever seen measured something over
two inches in length, or about one third the size of a
full-grown specimen. Considering the number of adult
tortoises seen, this is the more remarkable, and I am led
to suppose that when very young they frequent localities
different from those in which I have chanced to ramble.

There is a second species of land-tortoise occasionally
found in central ISTew Jersey, known as Blanding's tor-
toise. It is a very different creature in every way, and
the two specimens that I have found were as fierce and
snappish as the preceding was mild and inoffensive.
Both specimens were found in high, dry, upland woods,
though, as a rule, they are supposed to frequent damp,
swampy localities. Beyond its exhibitions of temper I
learned nothing of its habits.

In the high and dry woods it is quite unlikely that
any other species will be found. If a running brook be
near by, all the aquatic species will at times be found,
throughout the early spring, on their way to suitable
spots wherein to lay their eggs ; but their sojourn in such
a locality is temporary, lasting but little if any longer than
a month. All the turtles, except the two mentioned, are
essentially aquatic, or dwellers in such damp localities
that the term " aquatic " is scarcely inappropriate.

The first of those found, either in the water or in the
wettest of woodlands, is the rough-backed terrapin, or
" diamond-back," as it is more commonly known. I say
" first," because it can thrive more easily without access to
running water than either of the species hereafter men-
tioned. This turtle or terrapin, as it is more usually
called, is considered a great delicacy by epicures, and
has been so persistently hunted that now it is quite scarce.

254 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

I know a few wooded nooks, here and there, where they
can always be found, and for several years I have been
accustomed to meet with three old individuals which, in
1874, 1 carefully marked. Every summer I find them, and
I am almost persuaded that they recognize me. There is
in this secluded haunt of these turtles a bubbling spring,
which gives them water enough for a bath, though it is not
deep enough to afford them the luxury of a good dive and
a swim, such as delight those that live in the meadows.
So far as I could determine, these turtles ate animal food
exclusively, and appeared to burrow in the mud about the
spring for grubs, earth-worms, and such animal life as there
abounded. That certain plants, also, were eaten, is prob-
able, but I never saw them in the act of eating any vege-
table matter. It is difficult to realize how little can be
learned from watching turtles. 1 have often sat for an
hour or more, painfully quiet, in hopes that the turtles be-
fore me would go foraging, or at least ignore my presence
and act as if alone, but usually without success. Once
aware that a possible enemy is near, and the turtles will
remain as quiet as you aim to be. The most that can
be expected, is to come upon them suddenly when busy
feeding or otherwise engaged. Then, possibly, they will
not desist at once, and you may have a chance to make a
note of what you saw. Years in this way may roll by,
and at the last you will find yourself quite unprepared to
say much about them. This, I regret to say, has been my
experience. In the " American Naturalist " for March,
1870, the method of depositing the eggs of the female
rough-backed terrapin is thus described : " The animal
dug a circular ditch about thirteen inches in diameter,
heaping the dirt in the center, and then threw out this
pile of loose earth until the hole was about six inches
deep. In this depression was deposited eighteen eggs,

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 255

which were carefully covered and the earth made firm
above them." I have found many eggs of turtles in the
earth of recently-plowed fields, but never witnessed the
animal in the act of preparing the ground or depositing
the eggs. That all turtles exercise about the same care
as does the rough-backed terrapin, is probable.

Quite early in autumn these turtles go into winter-quar-
ters, which in some instances is in the mud in immediate
proximity to springs. Here the water keeps the earth at
a uniform temperature, and free from ice even in the
severest weather. Early in April the long sleep is ended,
and quite limp, and I judge very hungry, out come the
turtles and live on sunshine for many days. By the be-
ginning of May, however, they seem to regain their
vigor and appetite, for then they have been seen to dive
upon the little cricket-frogs, or " peepers," which swarm
by thousands in the meadows and swampy sink-holes in
the uplands.

Muhlenberg's turtle is an exceedingly dull-colored,
unattractive species, having no bright points or lines to
relieve the uniform brown-black of its upper shell. The
species may be at once recognized, however, by the large,
usually confluent, bright orange spots on the back of its
neck. Nothing at all similar to these spots is found on
any other of our American turtles.

Early in May, 1881, I was so fortunate as to find two
pairs of these rare turtles. They were in the mud of a
shallow ditch in the meadow. Their movements, when
discovered, were exceedingly sluggish. They made no
effort to escape, and when handled offered no resistance.
On the contrary, each withdrew its head, feet, and tail
within its shell, making a scarcely audible hissing sound
as it did so.

These four specimens I kept in captivity for a short

256 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

time, and then placed them in the Museum of Compara-
tive Zoology, at Cambridge, Massachusetts. Before part-
ing with them, I determined conclusively that these tur-
tles possessed well-defined vocal powers ; but I have not
been able to learn that in their new home they ever ex-
ercised them in the hearing of their custodian. To this
subject I will return.

In May, 1882. my son found a single specimen of
these turtles in a small swamp. It was crawling at the
time on the muddy margin of a spring brook. This
specimen was placed in an inclosure about six feet square,
in which was a shallow basin, filled with water, sunk to
the level of the ground. This basin of water wras at once
discovered by the turtle, and straightway occupied, to its
evident satisfaction. In the course of a few days the
turtle became quite ill at ease, and wandered restlessly
about, anxiously looking for some opening in the pen —
as I thought — through which it might escape. Finally,
it dug a shallow hole in one corner of the inclosure, and
sat therein much of the time. I had hopes that it would
burrow deeply, and thus make an effort to escape ; but it
did not seem dispossd to do so, although the earth was a
loose sand, through which a land-tortoise could have made
rapid progress. I therefore incline to believe that in
winter these turtles hibernate in the mud, beneath the
water of ditches or ponds, rather than bury themselves
in higher and drier localities.

Ten days later my son was fortunate enough to find
a pair of these turtles, in the same meadow-ditch from
which I had taken my specimens the preceding summer.
These turtles were evidently mated. They certainly
were very affectionate, and remained constantly together.
Here it may be well to refer to a passage in Agassiz's
monograph on our turtles. On page 300, he remarks:

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 257

" The legs " — of turtles — " which, as in lizards, seem to
be subservient only to locomotion, perform, in addition,
functions which we would hardly suppose in these ani-
mals. Professor Jeffries Wyman had once the rare op-
portunity of watching two painted turtles while making
love, and he saw the male caressing and patting the head
of the female with its fore-feet for several minutes."

On the 3d of June, my son found a second pair of
these turtles. I had now live individuals in the inclosure
referred to. The small basin, which was kept well filled
with water, was the point of attraction of their cramped
surroundings. It was continually occupied by three of
them, as there was no room for the others; but, on the
other hand, the others closely watched the occupants of
the basin, and promptly took their places when they ven-
tured forth for a stroll about the pen. It was a contest
between the "ins" and the "outs" the while; but, so
far as I could discover, was carried on quite good-na-
turedly. Nothing like fighting was noticed, although I
closely observed them — myself unseen by them — daily,
for a long time. Their appreciation of the little basin
of water quite convinced me that these turtles are essen-
tially aquatic, and not a " wood-tortoise," as they are
called in the text-books. Two, probably three, of the
five individuals were females, but no eggs were deposited,
nor did I find any evidences of digging in the inclosure,
as though a desire for ovipositing possessed them. The
breeding habits of Muhlenberg's turtle are, I presume,
essentially the same as those of the rough-backed ter-
rapin, the nearest allied species. This common turtle
digs a hole some six or eight inches in depth, and twice
this measurement in diameter. The bottom is patted
down with the fore-feet until quite firm. In this excava-
tion the eggs are deposited, and subsequently very neatly

258 EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

covered by the loose earth which had been removed. In
fact, nearly every trace of an excavation having been
made is carefully removed.

As to the whereabouts of the Muhlenberg turtles, ex-
cept in early summer, I am wholly " at sea." For many
years I never saw a specimen at any time, and my ex-
periences of the past two years cover only the months of
May and June. That they are not in the same shallow
ditches later in the summer, wherein both my son and
I found them in May, I am very positive. That they
are wandering about the woods, howsoever damp they
may be, seems to me quite improbable. I have instituted
such careful search for them in the very localities where,
if wood-haunters, they would surely be, that it is incredi-
ble that any of them should have been overlooked. In-
deed, the five specimens captured during the past summer
were liberated June 15th, and placed in a small brook
that ran through a low-lying, densely-wooded valley.
Up to the present time (August) no trace of them has
been discovered. Were damp woods the summer haunts
of these turtles, they would certainly not have wandered
far away ; and I doubt their being possessed of sufficient
cunning to elude my eager search for them. But one
other locality suggests itself, and this is the deeper
waters of the tide-water creeks, and those swamps that
are deep by reason of quicksands. Here, it may be, the
summers and winters of this turtle are passed. Indeed,
I found that the Muhlenberg turtles that I kept in con-
finement could readily remain under the surface of the
water in an aquarium for several hours without apparent
inconvenience ; and when, later, an individual of this
species was associated with one each of the mud-turtle,
the painted turtle, and the spotted turtle, in an aquarium,
the Muhlenberg proved to be as active a swimmer, and

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 259

remained voluntarily as long beneath the surface, as any
of the others. In fact, in its movements and degree of
activity, it most closely resembled the mud-turtle, which
is so essentially an aquatic species. Referring to the
respiration of turtles, Professor Agassiz remarks : " In
mud and soft-shelled turtles, the lungs being much re-
duced in size and importance, by far the greater part of
the respiration must be performed by the skin of the
whole body, which is much thinner in these families than
in other turtles; while, on the contrary, in ... the
Testudo (box-tortoise) the powers of respiration are no
doubt performed entirely by the lungs " (loc. cit., p. 276).
In the case of the Muhlenberg turtle the skin is not thick,
but, being greatly wrinkled, appears so ; and the lungs
are, I believe, of about the same size as those of the
strictly aquatic species. Certainly they are very little
larger, and correspond more nearly to those of the snap-
per than to the terrestrial box-tortoise. Therefore, I am
disposed to consider, and feel little hesitancy in asserting,
that the Muhlenberg turtle is essentially an aquatic spe-
cies.

A few words concerning the vocal powers of this
turtle. In brief articles on the habits of our turtles,
published in years past, I, have mentioned the voice of
the common snapping-turtle. Since then, I have been
fortunate enough to hear this same turtle make similar
sounds in its native haunts. In every case they were
made at night ; but my opportunities were such that I
am quite positive that the sound heard and the turtle
seen were correctly associated.

In the often - mentioned monograph by Professor
Agassiz, that author remarks : " Turtles have a voice.
Though I have myself made this observation only in a
few species, namely, in Emys elegans, serrata, picta, and

260 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

td) which emit a piping note ; and in Chelonia
mydas, whose voice resembles somewhat a quaint, low
bark; I am inclined to believe that all of them have,
more or less, the faculty of emitting distinct sounds"
(loc. cit., p. 284). It is not to be wondered at that our
turtles should have voices, for they are by no means such
sluggish, indolent creatures as is supposed by those who
have only observed them indifferently or from afar off.
I have frequently seen them get up a " square fight " over
some delicate morsel, as a dead fish or drowned squirrel ;
and again, while peering over the side of my boat into the
clear depths below, I have watched the spotted turtles,
two and three together, go through a variety of erratic
movements, strongly suggestive of play. Even the soli-
tary land-tortoises, when they meet, will gently touch
their noses and go through other movements indicative
of the exchange of ideas. Indeed, I have never seen any
animal as high in the scale of development as fishes, that
did not possess some means of communicating its ideas
to its fellows. In no other way can many of the acts of
these animals be explained.

To return to the turtles. In May, 1881, my first
specimen of Muhlenberg turtle was kept in a small vessel
of water, for several days, in a darkened room. Twice,
while in the room, I heard it utter a shrill note, which
may be represented by the syllables pree-eak, twice or
thrice repeated ; the last time less distinctly than the
previous utterances. To make it the more certain that
the first utterance was not wrongly attributed to the tur-
tle, I caused a ray of light to be thrown upon the vessel
containing the animal, and I remained in the dark, but
quite near at hand. I could plainly see every movement
of the turtle, but do not think I was seen by it. After
the, lapse of half an hour after the first utterance heard9 I

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 261

saw the turtle come to the surface, and crane its neck as
far out of the water as possible. Opening its mouth
widely, it made the. same utterance, and repeated it, after
an interval of probably ten seconds. The sound was
different from that of the snapper, but the movements
accompanying the utterances wrere identical. Since then,
I have not been able to detect any evidence of vocal
powers ; but it must be borne in mind that in my sub-
sequent studies of these turtles I had several associated ;
and if, as I suppose, the note I heard is really a " call,"
then it would only be uttered by solitary individuals,
when in search of a mate.

Early in summer, if at no other time, the voice of the
turtle is heard in the land.

The pretty speckled turtle next commands our atten-
tion, and although a very abundant species, it may yet
be studied to advantage without fear of repetition, as
there remains much to be said as to its habits.

This turtle is at once recognized by its jet-black shell,
sparsely sprinkled with small, round, bright-yellow spots.
It can never be mistaken for any other species. Strictly
aquatic in habit, it favors quiet waters, and is essentially
inactive except during the breeding season. Then it is
very restless, and comes into ditches where it is not only
impossible to swim, but where the water is so shallow
that its shell is exposed as it crawls over the mud. At
such times they are found in pairs, and are very demon-
strative. However inert they may appear at other times,
they are, throughout the month of May, more like all the
rest of animated nature, and they then give evidence of
capabilities of exertion not apparent during the summer
and autumn.

Like all the turtles, when the weather has become
fairly warm, and the surface soil has lost much of the

262 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

dampness of melted snows and spring rains, this species
is found wending its way to the upland fields, in search
of suitable places for depositing its eggs. That the same
spots are frequented, year after year, is not probable. I
have often marked turtles that I have found in May, in
sandy fields, in hopes that at the same time in succeeding
years I might again see them ; but in no instance have I
been successful. "While these animals remain in the same
pond or creek throughout their lives, as I have proved
by many experiments, it would seem that, unlike many
birds, they seldom, or only by chance, deposit their eggs
in the same place. The distance from water of the locali-
ties chosen for ovipositing varies greatly, and this would
seem to indicate that great care is exercised in choosing
the site for this purpose. Often I have found these tur-
tles wandering over hot, dusty fields, that had been re-
cently plowed, where every square foot for acres seemed
well suited to their purpose ; and still on they went into
apparently less favorable fields, where they halted, per-
haps half a mile from water. It is proper, however, to
add that I have never found their eggs at a greater dis-
tance than this from the streams or ponds which the
species frequents during the summer.

To what extent these turtles are active, and how they
pass their time when in the water, I am not prepared to
say ; but on bright days they are fond of basking in the
noon-day sun, and, in company with the larger red-bellied
turtles, they are often found resting on a floating log, or
perched upon a projecting stump. At such times they
are quick to scent danger, or hear it, and when ap-
proached they promptly slide from the log or stump
into the depths below. Their eyes and ears are then
depended upon ; " the sense of seeing," according to
Professor Agassiz, "and particularly that of hearing,

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 263

being highly developed, . . . the sense of smell much
less so."

The sense of seeing is not only highly developed for
the needs of the day, but it is also available for wandering
and hunting at night. From the fact that I have fre-
quently found them moving about at that time, I judge
that their vision is largely like that of the owls. Cer-
tainly, during moonlight nights aquatic turtles of all
kinds can be found more frequently than during the
day.

Fully as common, and far more handsome than the
preceding, is the pretty painted turtle. The beautifully
variegated shell — red, yellow, and blue-black — of this spe-
cies makes it a very prominent object in the assembled
attractions of a clear, sandy-bottomed pond ; and though
it frequently dwells throughout its long life in the mud-
diest, gloomiest ponds of marshy, weed-grown meadows,
yet I am persuaded that it prefers clear waters, where its
bright colors show to advantage. In the month of May,
a pair of these turtles can not be observed for any length
of time without showing conclusively that these bright
colors are appreciated among themselves, and that sexual
selection has been the potent factor in the evolution of
these prominent markings of the shell. An interesting
fact, in connection with this phase of bright coloration, is
that the painted turtle is much more diurnal in its habits
than any other of the aquatic species found in this vicin-
ity. It is possible that this assertion may be claimed
as mere fancy on my part ; but I do not fear the result
if any of my readers will follow these turtles closely for
weeks and months. It is only by such means that they can
be successfully studied ; and the inference I have drawn,
based upon hundreds of observations, is, as I have stated,

264: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

that this turtle is more diurnal in its habits than any of the
others. Whether this fact and that of the bright colora-
tion of its shell have any connection, must be decided by
each one for himself. My own conviction is, that they
are closely related.

The large red-bellied turtle, which formerly was the
most abundant of all our aquatic species, has of late
proved to be quite rare. In quiet ponds and sluggish
creeks, if shaded by heavy growths of timber, nothing was
more common than to see scores of these black-backed
turtles, perched upon every projecting stump and floating
fragment of wood. Here, apparently, the live-long day
they would quietly rest, never, as it seemed to me, volun-
arily returning to the muddy depths from which they
had come. They were ever on the alert, however, and
although I often approached them carefully, yet they
always knew of my coming, and with a gentle gliding
motion they passed so quietly into the water that scarce-
ly a ripple was caused by the movement. In midsum-
mer they remained on their floating perches far into the
night, and I often wondered when they sought their
food — if, indeed, they ever did anything but float about
lonesome waters on rotten logs, or pass their time in
quiet contemplation, perched upon every convenient pro-
jecting stump.

These were the thoughts of thirty years ago, but since
then I have had too few opportunities to study them
more closely.

De Kay says of them, " They are brought to our mar-
kets— New York city — from New Jersey, where they are
very numerous in running streams. As an article of food
they are equally prized with the preceding" (rough-
backed terrapin). Probably the fact that they are so

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 265

prized as an article of food has had much to do with
their gradual disappearance in many localities where they
were once abundant.

Of its habits generally, I am ashamed to admit, I know
nothing.

Modern civilization, fortunately, has not as yet devised
any means of utilizing the unattractive mud-turtle ; so
they remain, as of yore, fairly abundant in all muddy
streams, ponds, and ditches. I know those best which
frequent the ditches in my meadows. These ditches are
now quite like natural water-courses, by virtue of the
green banks and weedy growths which all summer choke
the sluggish current " that passes slowly through them.
Through these weeds, and in the foot or more of mud
that sustains their growth, these turtles, "mud-diggers"
as the boys call them, pass their seemingly monotonous
lives, seldom poking their noses above the surface. Of
course, in spring, they take an overland journey to some
sunny, sandy field to lay their eggs. Having accom-
plished this, they hasten back to their proper homes, and
this is the extent of their travels. Do they cogitate, on
their return, over what they saw in the outside world?
They have little brains, to be sure, but as they often prove
that they have a modicum of common-sense, it is not
altogether impossible.

Unlike the preceding species of aquatic turtles, this
one shuns the sunlight, and keeps closely to the deepest
holes that it can find. Here they dwell in company,
often a hundred or more together, remaining throughout
the day comparatively quiet. At night, however, they
are fairly active, and, guided by the sense of smell, they
hunt for such animal food as may chance to be available.
I say active at night and passive by day, for, when fishing
12

266 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

in the daytime, I have caught them but very seldom
when compared with the frequency with which I have
taken the odoriferous musk-turtle ; but when bobbing for
eels, or fishing at night, I have often been disgusted at
the way in which they seized my hooks. From this sim-
ple fact, I believe that they are more strictly nocturnal
than the other mud-turtle just mentioned. Here, again,
the subject of color comes to the front. This nocturnal
mud-turtle has not a vestige of beauty about it. It is su-
perlatively homely, and so it is fitting that it should be
nocturnal in habit. Possibly, it has greater vocal powers
than the others, but this I can not say. Now, on the
other hand, the strongly-scented musk-turtle, popularly
known by an expressive but scarcely mentionable name,
is quite handsomely marked with lines of brilliant yel-
low on a black background ; and, furthermore, although
a mud-turtle, it is quite diurnal in its habits, and even
wanders into the clear waters, where it can exhibit its at-
tractions to the best advantage. It can scarcely be mere
coincidence, that bright colors and diurnal habits always
go together.

A curious appearance is given to these mud-turtles, at
times, by the growth of a grass-like plant over their upper
shells, which gently waves to and fro in the water as
they move along. This plant does not seem to be affected
by the habit of the turtle of burrowing in the mud. It,
thrives even there, and when the animal emerges from
its burrow the plant is quickly freed of all foreign mat-
ter by the water, and waves as freely and is as brightly
green as before. This same growth is common also to
tfye fierce snapping-turtle, of which more anon.

Mud-turtles are mere scavengers. Those that I have
kept in aquaria would never take living prey ; but no
sooner was the fish or frog killed than they would devour

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 267

it greedily. Even when snappers set them the example,
they seemed willing to remain hungry rather than seize a
fish while yet a spark of life remained. When, however,
a dead fish was placed before several of these mud-tur-
tles in a small aquarium, their mental powers were read-
ily brought into play J and eacli turtle, in the endeavor
to appropriate the entire fish to itself, would bid defiance
to its neighbors. In one instance, the largest turtle cov-
ered the fish with its shell and endeavored to keep the
others off, while, at the same time, it tried to get an
occasional bite at the jealously-guarded tidbit. In this
manoeuvre it was not successful ; and it was quite evident,
from the free fight that ensued, that their distant kinship
to man is no theory, but a demonstrable fact, if their ex-
hibition of anger and the very human-like way in which
they fought has any bearing on the question. If, how-
ever, there is nothing for them to quarrel about, they are
as peaceful as lambs.

When it is said of the musk-turtle that it is not so
strictly a mud-loving species as the foregoing, and that
it is almost as active by day as by night, we have about
covered the ground, so far as its habits are known. In all
respects, it is like the other water-turtles as they appear
to the casual observer. There are some points of inter-
est connected with it, however, which may properly be
noted. According to Professor Agassi z, with the excep-
tion of the snapper, none of the turtles that I have men-
tioned catch active prey, or are in a»y way ferocious ;
they are, indeed, entirely harmless, and " only when hard
pressed, defend themselves by biting. Their food is both
vegetable and animal ; the latter they tear with their
jaws, holding it down when necessary with their fore-
feet." Another exception to this generalization is that

268 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of this musk or stinking turtle. In an early volume of
the " American Naturalist " I referred to this species as
follows, in connection with the habits of a curious little
fish, the mud-minnow : I remarked that these minnows
are exposed to attacks from a voracious animal, which
takes advantage of the habit of the minnow of lying
more than half buried in the mud. The musk-turtle is
able to discover the whereabouts of the mud-minnow
without alarming the fish, and, cautiously approaching
from behind, seizes it by the head. This they generally
completely sever from the body, and then draw from the
mud the decapitated body.

I have lately had specimens of these turtles in an
aquarium, in which I placed a number of mud-minnows ;
and have seen the turtles time and again seize the fish
with all the dexterity and quickness of a snapper. I be-
lieve this habit has gradually come about much in the
following way : These mud-minnows have a curious
habit of assuming the strangest positions, often quite
unlifelike, and maintain them for many minutes at a time.
They might readily be mistaken for bent twTigs or life-
less, distorted fish. Under these circumstances, a prowl-
ing musk-turtle, seeing a mud-minnow which it supposed
to be dead, might snap at it in a somewhat leisurely way
and succeed in seizing it. More frequently, however, it
would fail in the effort. Want of success would, how-
ever, insure greater caution and quicker movements on
the part of the turtle, and finally result in establishing the
method of stealthy approach and quick snap that charac-
terizes the true snapping-turtle. Whether this explains
the origin of the habit or not, certain it is that the musk-
turtle does now seize active, living prey, and that it exer-
cises much caution in approaching, and dexterity in seiz-
ing it.

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 269

The last of the series of ten species of turtles found in
this vicinity, but by no means the least, is the ferocious
snapper.

This is our largest and fiercest turtle. In many ways
it differs materially from all the others. The common
name " snapper " is derived from the manner in which
it seizes its prey. This snapping movement is not,
strictly speaking, confined to this species, as has been
shown, but it is intensified, as it were, among them, and
is withal so sudden and effective that it dwarfs all like
efforts on the part of the other species. When a fish is
seen approaching, the snapper, even in the close confines
of an aquarium, withdraws its head, and at the same time
elevates its body by its fore-feet ; then, if the fish comes
near enough, the neck of the snapper is suddenly length-
ened, its body thrown forward, and the fish seized.
Once let the powerful jaws close upon the victim, and
nothing can force the turtle to relax its hold.

Fish are not, however, the only food of the snappers,
as they do not hesitate to attack anything in the way of
beast or bird that they can seize, and if they succeed in
drowning the animal that they have caught, they soon
make a meal of it. I have known a quite small snapper
to seize a full-grown musk-rat by a hind leg and drag it
into deep water, where I suppose it was held until
drowned. Certainly, numbers of young ducks are annu-
ally destroyed by these voracious creatures.

When on land, the snapper seems to be quite at home,
although his movements are very awkward in appearance.
They are not, however, really so, as their rate of travel
overland is greater than that of any other of the strictly
aquatic species of turtle. The late Dr. Holbrook, in his
rt American Herpetology," says, the snapper " moves
along with head and neck stretched out, moving them to

270 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and fro as he proceeds, as though inspecting the ground
as he goes. His walk is said to resemble that of our
alligator; like them, falling now and then on his sternum
to rest, and then proceeding."

In New Jersey these turtles vary, in successive years,
as to the time of leaving the water for the purpose of
laying their eggs. I have occasionally found them as
early as the first week in April, but usually not until a
month later. My impression is that they do not wander
so far from the water, and are less particular about the
localities chosen for depositing their eggs than are the
other turtles. I have often found them but two or three
hundred yards from the pond or creek from which the
animals had come. They dig quite shallow beds, com-
paratively, in sandy soils, and place therein their whole
complement of eggs. Once laid, no care seems to be ex-
ercised in covering the spot, and so it is readily found.
Skunks have a decided liking for their eggs, and may
frequently be found, during moonlight nights, digging
them up. Indeed, in isolated spots, the skunks will be
abroad during the day, and dig out the eggs as soon as
the fierce old snapper has left them.

It is at this time of the year that we may most con-
fidently expect to hear the snappers make that peculiar
sound which comprehends their entire range of vocal
powers. It is a hoarse " kweep," much like thac ot the
Muhlenberg turtle, and uttered under similar circum-
stances. In thus limiting their vocal utterances to a sin-
gle sound I may perhaps be somewhat hasty, but, after
years of patient watching, I have never heard any other
that could be confidently attributed to them. Old fisher-
men and snapper-hunters have told me, however, that they
do occasionally make a deep roaring or bellowing sound,
by which I understand a roaring sound heard at a great

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 271

distance. Such a sound I, too, Lave heard coming, as I
thought at the time, directly from the water, but I never
saw a snapper in the act of uttering it ; so I can only
mention a peculiar, hoarse note, like " kweep," which, to
my positive knowledge, is often made by them early in
May, or just previous to the time of their leaving the
water for the purpose of depositing their eggs.

No sooner are the young snappers free from the egg-
case than they make their way directly to the nearest
water, guided, I suppose, by the sense of smell. Once
in their proper element, and their activity becomes very
noticeable. All the day long they paddle ceaselessly
about, snapping at every minnow and insect in and out
of reach. According to Professor Agassiz, this snapping
habit commences wonderfully soon in life. In his famous
"Contributions to the Natural History of the United
States," he says : " The snapping turtle . . . exhibits . . .
its ferocious habits even before it leaves the egg, before
it breathes through lungs ; before its derm is ossified to
form a bony shield, etc. ; nay, it snaps with its gaping
jaws at anything brought near, though it be still sur-
rounded by its amnios and allantois, and its yolk still
exceeds in bulk its whole body." And again : " I have
seen it snapping in the same tierce manner as it does
when full grown, at a time it was a pale, colorless embryo,
wrapped in its foetal envelopes . . . three months before
hatching." "What, then, may we not expect from this
animal when it reaches a foot or more in length ? To it,
indeed, may be attributed the scarcity of much of that
animal life now frequenting our waters. On the other
hand, the snapper seems to have no enemies to bother it,
unless it be such as prey upon the very young. Can it
be that their undue increase is checked by mammals, like
the skunk, which hunt and devour their eggs ? When

272 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

we consider this immunity from the attacks of enemies,
and the numbers of eggs that an adult annually lays, the
number of snappers found in any one locality is not very
great, and hence it is evident there must be, somewhere,
a check upon their increase.

"We might be led to suppose, from their activity and
the enormous quantity of food consumed, that the growth
of the young snapper was very rapid for the first two or
three years ; but this is not the case. Agassiz determined
that when a snapper was six and one half inches long, it
was twelve years old ; when twelve inches long, it was
thirty-eight years old. After twelve years he states that
growth, is much slower, and mentions one instance of a
growth of but one inch in forty-five years.

I have not been able to learn what may be considered
the maximum size of this turtle. In fact, there appears
to be no limit to their growth. I have seen one specimen
that weighed just sixty pounds, and have been told of
others considerably heavier. Specimens weighing over
thirty pounds, however, are not common.

A few words, in conclusion, with reference to a habit
common to all our turtles, that of hibernation. On the
approach of cold weather these animals, as a class, are
supposed to bury themselves deeply in the mud at the
bottom of ponds and streams, and there to remain until
every vestige of winter has disappeared. This is the
common impression, though I question if it be strictly
true. Careful examination will show that the supposed
torpidity has, in part, no real existence. Indeed, the
habit is affected very materially by the severity of the
winter ; for when there occurs a very green Christmas,
it is not a remarkable occurrence to find a box-tortoise
on the sunny south side of some wooded slope. Languid
and limp, it may be, but it will be found to have enough

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 273

vitality to enjoy a midday outing, and vigor sufficient to
enable it to return to its quiet underground retreat
toward the close of the day. In most ponds of any con-
siderable extent, frequented by turtles, there are one or
more deep holes wherein many of the different species
are found to take refuge after the first hard or plant-
killing frost. Here they remain, in the deeper and
warmer water of these holes, when the shallower portions
of the ponds are coated with ice. Now, do they lie in
the mud in these holes in a torpid condition ?

Throughout the winter, in these same deep holes, I
have found that many of our fish also congregate ; and
the turtles, to a certain extent, during the winter prey
upon these n'sh ; the snappers occasionally catching one,
and the other turtles feeding upon the remains of the
snapper's feast. What first gave me this impression was
the fact that I frequently found in nets set under the ice,
even in midwinter, fishes that had been partially eaten •
and as this occurs quite often in summer, I took it for
granted that the offender — a turtle — was the same in each
case. Led by this inference, I baited hooks and placed
them in the deep holes of a large pond, and in several
instances succeeded in catching specimens of the stinking
or musk-turtle.

Snappers, in the same way, have been caught during
the severest cold weather, in the deep holes in ponds, and
about large springs that discharge their waters on level
ground. It would seem, therefore, that if the water re-
mains above the freezing-point, these turtles continue
in a fairly active state, even though they do not find any
large amount of food. In such spring-holes, the grass
remains green throughout winter ; a few frogs linger in
the waters ; an occasional bittern haunts the spot ; pike,
too, are not unusual, and the snapper therefore has corn-

2Y4: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

pany, at least, and occasionally lie makes a meal of some
one of the Lardy visitors which, like himself, brave the
winter, and does not seek to avoid its rigors by a pro-
tracted, torpid sleep in the mud.

Of the series of ten species of turtles that I have men-
tioned, some of them, it may be, are so sensitive to cold
that they hibernate regularly, and for about one half of
the year ; but in the case of the snapper, mud-turtle, and
stinking or musk-turtle, the habit at best is neither gen-
eral nor regular. And yet it is probable that these
three species, though they do not hibernate regularly, yet
do so when cut off from access to the atmosphere by the
growth of thick ice ; for, while these turtles can stay
under the water for a comparatively long time, yet, if all
their other functions are active, respiration must neces-
sarily be active also ; and it is questionable how long they
can live without access to the air, notwithstanding the
fact that, like the frogs, they can absorb sufficient air
through their skins, and so remain beneath the surface
for a long time, if the water be thoroughly aerated. In
Agassiz's monograph on our turtles occurs the following
sentence : " In mud and soft-shelled turtles, the lungs
being much reduced in size and importance, by far the
greater part of the respiration must be performed by
the skin of the whole body, which is much thinner
in these families than in other turtles; while, on the
contrary, in. . . the Cistudo (box-tortoise) the powers
of respiration are no doubt performed entirely by the
lungs."

In the case of skin-respiration by the frog, Professor
Semper has stated, in his volume entitled " Animal Life,"
that "Milne-Edwards the elder showed long since that
frogs, when prevented from coming to the surface, were
able to live under water so long as they were not cut off

SHORT STUDIES OF TURTLES. 275

from the possibility of obtaining food, and were freely sup-
plied with fresh water. In such a case general skin-res-
piration must necessarily take the place of lung-respira-
tion." Ey experiment I have been able to determine
that a snapper can remain twenty-one days beneath run-
ning water without food, and yet not appear to have
suffered ; although its appetite was perfectly wonderful
when the creature was relieved from its confined and
submerged quarters.

Considering, then, the facts, that one of these species
has been known to take a baited hook in midwinter, and
that individuals of this same or another species have been
found to eat of fishes that were entangled in a net set be-
neath the ice, and bearing in mind that they have been
found in quite an active state in shallow but open waters
even in midwinter, it is safe to assert that certain of our
turtles do not regularly hibernate from autumn until
spring, as has been generally supposed ; the snappers, the
musk-turtles, and the " mud-diggers," furnishing the
prominent exceptions to the rule.

CHAPTER XXX.

uz GAUNT'S TALK ABOUT TTJETLES.

" CHRISTMAS of '77 was a green one, you may remem-
ber," remarked Uz, as he shook the ashes from his pipe.
" It didn't need any hickory logs blazin' on the hearth,
such as these," and he stirred the ashes and rearranged
the wood on the andirons as he spoke of them. " The
weather had been mild for a long time, and once I heard
frogs singin'. Well, this kind of thing sort of came to a
focus on Christmas day, which was warm even in the
shade. The river- was low, the meadows dry, and the
crows as noisy as in April. I felt sort of restless like,
and took a walk in the meadows. I left my gun home,
and thought I'd just look 'round. Without thinking of
them when I started out, I wandered over to your marshy
meadow, and began pokin' about with my cane for snap-
pers. You know I take kindly to a bowl of snapper-soup
of my own fixin'."

" Yes, I do that, and can run along neck-and-neck with
you, when you're the cook."

" Well, I followed the main ditch down, jumpin' from
hassock to hassock, and kept probin' in the mud with
my cane, when, after a bit, I felt something hard at the
end of my stick. It wasn't a stone or a stump, I knew
at once. There was a little tremble run up the stick to
my hand that told me that much. A sort of shake, as

UZ GAUNT'S TALK ABOUT TURTLES. 277

though you hit an empty barrel, as near as I can tell
you. I'd a turtle down in the mud, and concluded to
bring it out into the daylight. There's more than one
way to do this, but none of 'em is an easy job to get
through with. I kept probin' 'round him, to try and
make out where his head was, and then I could feel for
his tail, and pull him out. " Now this does very well for
one of your common snappers, but didn't work so easy in
this case. I could sort of feel that turtle all over the
meadow. Wherever I put my cane down, I seemed to
come to his back shell ; but after edgin' out a bit for some
time I could make out the rim of it, and I tell you he was
a whopper, accordin' to my probin'. That turtle seemed
about as big 'round as a wash-tub, and I got regularly
worked up about him. I wasn't in trim for huntin', but
didn't care. I'd found a turtle that was worth havin', and
I meant to have him. Probin' showed he was about
three feet deep in the mud, but I made up my mind to
locate his tail and then reach down for him. So I did,
but it was no use. I felt about, and got one ugly scratch
from a hind foot, but he kept his tail out of reach, or
hadn't any ; I didn't know which, then. After thinkin'
a spell, I concluded I'd try to get a pry under him, and
went for a fence-rail. It took me some time to get what
I wanted, and when I got back that turtle had got out.
I probed all 'round, but he'd moved. This rather took
me down, but I kept up my hunt, and after a bit found
he'd moved straight for the main ditch, and was tearin'
up the mud on the bottom as he went. This was all
that saved him for me, and I no sooner learned his
whereabouts than I went for him in earnest. I ran the
rail I had right under him, and tried to lift him up.
Thunder and lightnin', boy, you might as well try to lift a
steer. I disturbed him, though, and checked his course a

278 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

bit. Jammin' the rail down again, I guess I hit his head,
for it riled him, evidently, and he raised right up. His
head and neck came up out of the sand, and I was for
standin' back just then. If ever you saw a wicked eye,
that turtle had one, and his head was as big as my list.
Stickin' his head out, though, gave me the knowledge I
wanted. I knew how he laid in the mud, and I ran my
rail down under him as far as I could. It kept him
from divin' down, and I went right into the ditch to try
and get a hold on his tail if I could. This I did, after
feelin' for it a bit, and no sooner had I got a good grip on
it than the old fellow got free of the rail and commenced
goin' deep into the mud. I tugged and he dug, and it
was a clear case of ' pull Dick, pull devil ' between us.
He was gettin' the better of me, though, for I was gettin'
chilled in that water, and had nearly lost my hold, when
the turtle gave an extra jerk, and if it hadn't been for
the fence-rail I'd a lost him. I was pulled for'ard, but
the rail was right in front, so I put one foot on it, to
keep from sinkin' any deeper in the mire. This bracin'
gave me the advantage now, and I put all my strength to
it. The turtle came a little, and I seemed to gain strength.
I tugged and tugged with all my might, and presently
his hind feet showed. You see, he hadn't firm enough
mud to hold on to. I backed slowly across the ditch
when I got him in open water, and got a fair footin' on
the ditch-bank at last. Still, I wasn't out of the woods by
a long shot. That turtle weighed close onto seventy
pounds, and I'd no means of handlin' him. Chilled
through, with both hands needed to hold him, and in the
middle of the mucky meadow, all that was left me was
to try and drag him to the high, smooth meadows. It
was a tough job, I tell you. I had to walk backward,
and he pulled against me like a frightened horse. I

UZ GAUNT'S TALK ABOUT TURTLES. 279

gained a little, slowly, and after a bit got on the high
ground. Then I felt more at ease and took a rest. I
couldn't take him home, of course, in the same fashion,
but I had a chance to let him loose, and rest my hands.
How I looked 'round for a bit of rope to bridle him ! It
was no use, though, and after all I was likely to lose him
altogether. After a minute's thinkin', it occurred to me
I'd make a hobble out of my shirt and then slip home
lively for the right sort of tackle. I wasn't long in get-
tiu' the shirt off, and I twisted it into a sort of rope and
hobbled him with it. It was a desperate, odd-lookin' tur-
tle when I got through, and I laughed at him a bit as I
turned toward the house. You see, I left him on his
back, and his legs bound so he couldn't use 'em to turn
over. I skipped pretty lively, I tell you, for that mile or
so twixt me and home, and was in a good glow when I
got in. Ilettie looked kind o' scared when she saw me,
but I put her mind to rest in two words, and soon was on
my way back. A bit of rope and my sheath-knife was
all I needed. I skipped over the iields pretty lively, and
was soon again in sight. . Now, I don't think it was an
hour, by some minutes, before I was back on the high
meadow, but, by gracious ! it don't take long for scenes
to change in natur' any more than it does in a theatre.
Of all queer sights, that was the funniest I saw when I
got back. The turtle had got half free of my old red
shirt, and was pa win' the air like mad, try in' to get on
his feet again. I could see that much a long way off, and
put on extra speed ; but when I was about fifty yards off
I stopped short. There was that turtle wrapped in my
shirt, and a pesky skunk sort of standin' guard over him.
Now, I hate skunks. They don't pay to trap, and they
rob my hen-roost every winter. I was afraid to frighten
him, too, for fear he'd spoil my snapper, and I wanted

280 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

the value of a shirt out of the turtle, if nothin' more. I
walked a bit nearer, to make sure of how matters stood,
and it was clear as day, the skunk thought he had a good
thing of it, if he could only kill that snapper. I thought
the same way, and didn't want to be bettered by a pesky
skunk. I made up my mind to jockey about it, a little ;
and so, first, heaved a stone at the critter. It gave me a
look and started on a slow trot, but it was all up with me,
sure enough. He shook that thunder in' old brush right
at the turtle and well ! if he didn't sicken the snap-
per, he did me, that's certain. I stood the racket a bit,
though, and tried to move the snapper, but it was no use ;
I couldn't keep at it long enough to do anything, and
don't believe it would have amounted to much any-
how. I got a stick and put the snapper on his feet, as
well as I could, without touchin' him, and he waddled
off for the mucky meadow, with most of my shirt still
stickin' to him, and plunged into the ditch as soon as he
could."

"So you lost the turtle after all," I remarked in a
low tone, not feeling sure I had heard the last of the
story.

" No I didn't either," Uz replied quickly. « Don't set
me down for such a fool as that. I knew well enough
the turtle wouldn't wander far, so I kept him in mind,
and the next April I went out in proper trim and
hunted him up. I found him after two days' huntin',
when I got a dozen big ones besides, but he was the king
of the lot. He couldn't turn 'round in a wash-tub, and
weighed somethin' over seventy pounds. I looked all
over him for some sign of my shirt, but there wasn't a
thread left."

" How old do you suppose he was ? " I asked, when
Uz had concluded his story.

UZ GAUNrS TALK ABOUT TURTLES. 281

"I'm not sure I can say, but he was no chicken, that's
certain."

" According to Professor Agassiz, a turtle a foot long
is close to fifty years old," I replied.

" Fifty years old ! Then my big snapper came out of
the ark, I guess," remarked Uz.

CHAPTER XXXI.

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES.

WEEE this a fitting opportunity, I should be glad
to give in detail the scores of marvelous snake-stories
which from time to time have been related in my hear-
ing, or which I have clipped from newspapers. These
stories have not come solely from ignorant and supersti-
tious people, but they have been told fully as often by
those who were well informed on other subjects, and who
would be considered people of average intelligence and
education.

The prevalent absurd accounts of our common snakes
show what an amount of ignorance prevails concerning a
class of animals whose undoubted merits should be prop-
erly understood and appreciated.

My aim, therefore, in referring to them, is to break
down, if possible, long-established prejudices. It is, per-
haps, a hopeless task, a kicking against the pricks, but I
shall not desist.

Unfortunately for the snakes, and for ourselves too,
we grow up so imbued with unjust suspicions of all
creeping things that, in later years, but few of us seem
disposed to listen to the plain truth concerning the habits
and capabilities of these most interesting and generally
very useful animals.

Because one serpent is very dangerous, and capable of
inflicting deadly wounds, it does not follow that all ser-

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 283

pents are to be shunned. I certainly have no desire to
encounter a tiger, but I do not therefore hesitate to play
with a kitten ; and yet the same style of reasoning which
dooms the harmless snake w^ould, if carried out, justify
the indiscriminate slaughter of every animal of the cat
kind.

In New Jersey we have two species of serpents —
the rattlesnake and copper-head — the bite of either of
which is usually regarded as fatal. These are found only
in limited localities, and, even there, the danger to be
apprehended from them is more apparent than real. As
neither of them comes within the range of ray rambles,
there is no reason to fear them; so why should I dread
the harmless serpents that may chance to cross my path ?
Rather, since they can do no harm, let me seek them out
and strive to learn what they have to teach.

Of the nine or ten species of serpents that are found
here, some are formidable in appearance and readily re-
sent interference. What they do, however, is in self-
defense, as they are never the attacking party. Of
course, they will dart their pretty forked tongues ; will
hiss, and even snap at you ; but there it ends. Their bite
is less harmful than the sting of a mosquito, though the
fact is by no means generally recognized and acted upon.
What if a full-grown black-snake, when trod on, does
wrap a coil or two about your legs ? It can only result
in injury to the snake, and all newspaper stories as to
the serious harm they do to young children, by coiling
about them, may be dismissed as fables. Perhaps a great
part of the unjust suspicion that attaches to snakes may
be ascribed to the stories of their fierceness related by
early travelers. Thus, Campanius, in his " History of New
Sweden," describes the rattlesnake as follows : " There
is here, also, a large and horrible serpent which is called

284: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

a rattlesnake. It has a head like that of a dog, and can
bite off a man's leg as clear as if it had been hewn down
with an axe." Such a description of any one of our ser-
pents is enough to make a person timid and suspicious of
all our snakes, nor can it be wondered at. Kalm, too,
magnified the fierceness, size, and courage of our serpents,
and particularly the black-snakes. Much of that which
he relates, be it understood, never happened. Among
other impossible occurrences he tells the following " snake-
story," which it would be hard to match, even in these
days : " During my stay in New York, Dr. Golden told
me that, in the spring, 1748, he had several workmen at
his country-seat, and among them one lately arrived from
Europe, who of course knew very little of the qualities
of the Black-Snake. The other workmen seeing a great
Black-Snake . . . engaged the new comer to go and
kill it, which he intended to do with a little stick. But
on approaching the place . . . the male (snake) in great
wrath leaves his pleasure to pursue the fellow with
amazing swiftness ; he little expected such courage in the
snake, and flinging away his stick, began to run as fast
as he was able. The snake pursued him, overtook him,
and twisting several times round his feet, threw him
down, and frightened him almost out of his senses ; he
could not get rid of the snake till he took a knife and
cut it through in two or three places. The other work-
men were rejoiced at this sight, and laughed at it, with-
out offering to help their companion."

It will be observed that our author does not assert
that all this happened within his personal knowledge, but,
on the contrary, it is an instance of a person telling some
one else what a third person saw ; and this is usually the
case with snake-stories.

Now, so far as the story of the fierceness of black-

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 285

snakes being more marked in spring than at other times
is concerned, the truth is, that this is the time of year
when they are particularly sluggish. When disturbed in
their dreams, on a bright spring morning, they will often
remain rigid, and apparently feign death, rather than make
an effort to escape or to simulate a courage which they
do not possess, in order to frighten and drive you away.
It is but fair, however, to our author to add that his
own experience scarcely agreed with the stories that were
told him, as will be seen by the following extract : " I
can not well doubt of this — the fierceness of the black-
snakes when mated — as I have heard it said by numbers
of creditable people ; but I could never succeed in provok-
ing them. I ran always away on perceiving it, or flung
something at it, and then took to my heels, but I could
never bring the snakes to pursue me ; I know not for
what reason they shunned me, unless they took me for
an awful seducer."

The reason is plain enough. Ivalm desired to know
the truth, and took the experimental way of learning it.
His knowledge of the snakes was gained by familiar, out-
of-doors intercourse with them, and it has stood the test
of time. All that was needed, when he wrote, was the
moral courage to say to the narrators of the marvelous
stories, " You are mistaken " ; or perhaps, more wisely,
he might have kept silent. The most conscientious man,
if afraid of snakes, can not tell the truth about them ;
and even in the case of the truly poisonous species, it is
well to remember that " the devil is not so black as he is
painted."

Although the rattlesnake does not now frequent this
neighborhood, yet it was probably not uncommon here
years ago. I have not, however, been able to find in any

286 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of the local histories any record of one having been seen
here. Perhaps the black-snakes, which until recently
were so numerous, succeeded in exterminating them, for
the two are deadly enemies. That this might readily
have been the case is very probable, particularly if such
occurrences as the following were ever very common :

"In the middle of the road lay an ordinary black-
snake and quite a large rattlesnake, eying one another
fiercely, both ready for an attack. The party stood mo-
tionless to see the battle take place ; but he waited long,
and still the combatants did not move. At length, tired
of watching, he slightly shook the bar of the fence, which
caused the rattlesnake to look from its opponent to him-
self. Instantly, the black-snake sprang on the other,
twisted itself tightly around its neck, and then its body,
and glided off, and there lay the rattlesnake, dead. The
victim, we all know, was a powerful foe, the victor as
harmless a snake as there is in the land."

I have several clippings from newspapers, recording
the capture of veritable copper-heads near here, but as the
harmless hog-nose snake and the gentle calico-snake have
often been mistaken for this venomous species, I am
inclined to look upon all such reports as cases of mistaken
identity. It would not please me to know that at any
time I might possibly chance upon one, but as I never
have in all these years been so unfortunate, I must con-
tinue to think that there is but little reason to fear them.
Harmless snakes have repeatedly been brought to me as
genuine copper-heads, and, to the horror of my friends,
1 have let these supposed dreaded serpents bite me, when
I succeeded in provoking them sufficiently to do so ; but
even this proof of their harmlessness was not always satis-
factory.

I purposely omit any discussion of the often-asked

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 287

question, Do snakes swallow their young ? I have never
seen them do so, and here ends my knowledge of the
matter. I have, therefore, only to add that as many
snakes feed upon small snakes, and occasionally have two
or three at once in their stomachs ; and further, that as
some species are ovoviviparous, or hatch their young
within their bodies, thus offering, occasionally, the specta-
cle of a large female snake with twenty to thirty small
snakes within it, it is possible that some such occurrence
may have given rise to the stories we so often hear of
snakes apparently swallowing their young in order to pro-
tect them from harm. It is thought not to be impossible,
though improbable, that such a habit should be common
to any species.

In the course of my rambles I have found a great
many snakes, of all sizes, colors, and, I may add, disposi-
tions. They are all well known to herpetologists, for a
long and not always handsome name has been given to
each variety. They are also well known in an anatomi-
cal point of view, though their habits, haunts, and merits
have not been very closely studied. It would seem that,
in most cases, to drop the squirming creature into alcohol,
and tack a label on the bottle, was all that the naturalist
desired to do. To know where a snake came from, and
its scientific name, is, so far as it goes, very useful knowl-
edge ; but I would like to know what the snakes did be-
fore their capture.

Of the ten well-marked species that may be found
within half a mile of my front door, probably the most
abundant is the hog-nose snake, known to my neighbors
by a variety of names, though none is so good as the one
mentioned. " Adder," " flat-head," " viper," and a dozen
other misnomers are freely used ; " flat-head " being,

288 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

perhaps, a fairly good name, as the habit indicated by this
name is most marked in this species.

In the entire range of animal life I know of no creat-
ure so thoroughly harmless as this snake ; yet, as it flattens
its head, hisses loudly, springs menacingly, and snaps
fiercely, it is credited by many with all the venom of the
rattlesnake, which, by the way, it quite closely resembles
in many ways.

As an object of study it presents much that is of
peculiar interest. "Without fangs, or even teeth of suffi-
cient length to produce a wound beyond a mere pin-
prick, it presents the outward appearance and has the
pose and movement of the venomous serpents generally.
Wholly unable to inflict the slightest injury, it has always
puzzled me to understand why it should not, like all our
other snakes, seek safety in flight. May w^e hold that it
realizes the full meaning of the peculiar powers of the
venomous serpent it mimics so admirably, and trusts to its
being mistaken for a rattlesnake ? Indeed, this mimicry
has been perfect, in some instances that I have witnessed,
inasmuch as the tail of the snake was rapidly vibrated
against dead leaves, and so produced a sound that was
strikingly similar to that of the rattlesnake. This simi-
larity was, of course, accidental, as it was by mere chance
that dry leaves were lying about; but at various other
times I have noticed that the tail was held in the same
position and vibrated in precisely the same manner as
that of the rattlesnake. In these instances I thought I
detected a faint whirring sound, or a buzzing, but on this
point I am not positive.

Mimicry, on the part of snakes, is a ready way of ex-
plaining some of their habits ; but even when accepted,
it remains to be shown how it originated. Is there any
evidence that in former times the hog-nosa snake and

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 289

rattlesnake were intimately associated ? I can find none,
and certainly at present the two species are not found
together, not being frequenters of the same kind of locali-
ties. The hog-nose snake prefers open, sandy fields ;
the rattlesnake, rocks, and at all times a forest-growth,
or, at least, a dense undergrowth. I have endeavored
in vain to detest something in their habits, haunts, and
anatomy that could throw light upon these questions, but,
as yet, all in vain ; I can only say that the. snake is in
appearance a rattler, but that it has neither the rattles
nor the fangs. A veritable impostor is he, sailing under
false colors throughout his whole life.

Of all our serpents, the hog-nose is, by far, the most
sluggish in its movements. So slow is it, that it can be
easily overtaken, if it should attempt to escape, which it
rarely does. I have found them partial to loose, sandy
soils, as in cultivated fields, in which they burrow with
all the facility of a mole. They burrow, I am led to be-
lieve, only to a shallow depth, and think it is in search of
earth worms and insect larvae, and not merely for the sake
of shelter. In several instances, where I have detected
them coming out of the ground, I have found in their
stomachs masses of semi-digested animal matter which
were believed to be the remains of earth-worms and in-
sect larvse. This fact should give the snake a claim to
protection from the farmer, and this is now set up for
them, though with little or no hope that my interposi-
tion in their behalf will result in any permanent benefit.

In the month of May I have frequently found their
eggs, in considerable numbers, a few inches below the
surface; and early in July I once found a family of
seventeen very small and apparently just hatched young,
In this instance no old snakes were seen. Young as these
little ones were, and apparently with quite defective,

13

290 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

vision, they resented all interference, and snapped and
hissed precisely as an older snake would do. Even the
head and neck were distinctly flattened.

While sensitive, as all snakes are, to cold, these hog-
nose serpents appear to have greater powers of endurance
than any of the other species that are found in this vicin-
•ity. They are, I think, the first to make their appearance
in spring, and the latest to go into winter-quarters. These
quarters are usually burrows of such depth and in such
a position as to be beyond the reach of frost, and in them
many individuals are congregated. Occasionally differ-
ent species of snakes are associated in these subterranean
retreats, three or four being often coiled together in an
almost globular mass. At such times they are quite
inert, and do not revive until exposed to a considerable
warmth for several hours.

An uncommon variety of this species of snake is
nearly or quite black, and, being somewhat more vicious
in appearance, it has the reputation of being even more
dangerous than its mottled black and yellow companions.
All the black specimens that I have seen have been very
large, and otherwise seemed to be old, and it is my belief
that they are merely aged individuals, and not a variety
or sub-species.

Kalm says of the serpents found in New Jersey : " The
Rattle-snake, Horned Snakes, red-bellied, green, and other
poisonous Snakes, against whose bites there is frequently
no remedy, are in great plenty here." This statement is
worthy of a moment's consideration. It is correct so far
as the poisonous character of the rattlesnake's bite is con-
cerned ; but what of the other species he mentions ?
Possibly his "horned snake" is the hog-nosed serpent
about which I have been writing ; or, if not, it may be
the mythical hoop-snake to which he refers — a snake that

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES.. 291

hundreds of people are ever ready to affirm they have
occasionally seen, and by which they have been chased ;
but which, strangely enough, has never fallen into the
hands of a naturalist. The " red-bellied " snake men-
tioned by Kalm may be any one of three or more species
that have a red or ruddy belly. I suppose, however, that
he refers to our common water-snake, a species that has
afforded me much entertainment while watching it in its
chosen haunts.

Kalm, it will be noticed, believed it to be a poisonous
species. This, of course, arose from simple hearsay, as
he evidently was too prudent to test the matter personally.
Even at present it is generally supposed to be venomous,
although its harmless nature has been noted by every
herpetologist. If facts of this character, embodying as
they do much useful knowledge, were taught in our pub-
lic schools, as they ought to be, we should be spared much
nonsense. Only the other day I read in a local news-
paper that "a large, poisonous water-adder, measuring
over seven feet, was killed near the mill-pond. It is
supposed to have bitten several cows." Here are two
errors, to call them by no harsher name, to start with.
In the first place, the snake is not poisonous ; and in the
second, no one of them ever grew to be seven feet in
length. As to biting the cows, that is not improbable ;
but the wounds inflicted were not so serious as the bites
of the blood-thirsty green flies that worry our horses and
cattle throughout the summer months.

The common water-snake is strictly an aquatic species ;
not that it can not and does not freely leave the water, for
this it frequently does, though the shallow, weedy brooks,
the deep mill-ponds, and even the river itself, are, essen-
tially, its homes. In such localities, it is the active, alert,
lithesome serpent that I never tire of watching.

292 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

These snakes, if not venomous, are vicious, I admit,
and do not hesitate to bite, if irritated ; but the result is
like the prick of a pin. I have often teased them, to
see how hard they could bite, and found that they seldom
brought blood, and their teeth never remained in the
skin of my arm or leg.

I have noticed that the water-snake, in this neighbor-
hood, is partial to still waters of considerable depth, and
seldom frequents streams that have not a bottom of
deep, soft mud, in which to take refuge when pursued,
and in which it buries itself deeply during the winter.
"While fond of sunning itself on the banks of streams, it
also spends much time on the mud. Occasionally, when
cautiously approached, it will move off in such a gentle
manner as to leave the imprint of its body on the muddy
bed where it had been resting. Unlike all others of our
snakes, this one does not require constant access to the
atmosphere, but can live for days in well-aerated water,
as I have determined by repeated experiments.

While, usually, the water-snake, in passing from the
land to the water, simply glides from the shore to its
proper home directly, I have found that, at times, it
would pass through burrowings near the shore, and seek
the water by a short subterranean passage. Such burrow-
ings or passages are not made by the snake, I am positive,
but are the work of star-nosed moles, shrews, and, in some
cases, of cray-fish. That such routes should be chosen by
the snakes is not readily explained, for I find that the
snakes do not linger in them, but pass directly through
and into the mud beneath. To be sure, if the creature
is escaping from an enemy, real or supposed, this means
is more effectual than a direct plunge into the water, as
the snake reaches the bed of the stream, and is wholly
out of sight, beneath the mud. But is a water-snake

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 293

sufficiently intelligent to warrant us in accepting this as
an explanation ? During the summer this snake delights
in sunning itself on a mat of dead grass, which it appears
to collect for the purpose of making a more comfortable
bed than the growing grass alone would afford. Often,
well coated with mud, they crawl from the bed of the
stream to these spots, and there remain a long while,
tightly coiled and, I suppose, asleep. The adhering mud,
now exposed to the sun, quickly dries and falls off, and
in time the grass beds become completely covered with a
fine dust, often an inch or more in depth.

At other times these snakes, well coated with mud,
go directly from the water to one of the subterranean
passages, and, passing down the narrow entrance, they
leave a portion of the adherent mud as a rim about
the opening. When sun-dried, such ring-like elevations
closely resemble the curious " mud chimneys " of the
cray-fish ; and the latter, by many people, are considered
as the work of water-snakes. Time and again I have
been told that the Cray-fishes' mud- works were " snake-
holes," and I am not surprised that such an impression is
common, for it must be remembered that water-snakes do
occasionally make a similar ring of mud about holes in
the mud-banks of creeks and ditches ; and again, who has
ever seen a cray-fish building his "chimney," ring after
ring, until it reaches several inches in height ?

In the water the movements of this snake are as agile
as those of the most active fish, and their food consists
very largely of minnows. These they catch by a sudden
dart through a school of them, seldom failing to seize
one of the number. It has seemed to me, however, that
this was rather a hap-hazard proceeding, as the snake did
not appear to single out any particular fish, but merely
opened its mouth and left the rest to luck. Often fishes

294: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of a large size are seized in this manner and dragged to the
shore, when, after dying from exposure to the atmosphere,
they are again taken to the water, buried in the mud, and
devoured by the snake at its leisure. Frogs, too, form a
not inconsiderable part of their food, which I am in-
clined to think is sought as well on land as in the water,
though I have never found them so engaged. Nor have
I ever discovered any evidence that they preyed upon
mice — the principal food of land-snakes — in the many
dissections that I have made.

There is another species of water-snake which I have
occasionally seen in our creeks and ditches — seen it swim-
ming by, and that is all.

Occasionally, late in April and throughout the month
of May, several small species of snakes (collectively called
" garter-snakes " by the country people) may be seen in
the shallow waters of our ditches. There is a family
likeness running through the series, and it is often diffi-
cult to identify them. One of the prettiest and most
active of these is called De Kay's little brown snake. It
is fully as active as the foregoing when in the water, and
far more agile and rapid in its movements when on land.
My last opportunity of observing them was in May, 1881,
when I found three of them on the bank of a shallow
ditch, each occupied in slowly swallowing a little frog or
" peeper." Frequent observations, made some years ago,
convince me that the several species of grasshoppers con-
stitute their principal food-supply in summer.

Like the true water-snakes, they are excellent fishers,
and, gliding through the shallow waters with marvelous
celerity, they catch minnows and young pike in large num-
bers. Late in the summer I find that they retire to the
upland woods, where they are often seen in sunny nooks,

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 295

coiled up on beds of dry, dead leaves ; and throughout
September and later I have seldom found them in the
ditches and surrounding meadows, which seem to be their
haunts in spring and early summer.

This little brown snake is readily tamed, and can be
taught to take flies from the fingers. Indeed, I think
they recognize those who are accustomed to feed or handle
them.

Another snake, perhaps less common than the fore-
going, but more conspicuous from its greater size and
brilliant markings, is the ribbon-snake, or " swift garter."
Of all our serpents, this is my favorite. For hours I
have played with them, and never knew one to exhibit
any ill-temper, even when teased persistently. "While
perfectly at home in the water, this serpent can not be
considered as aquatic or even semi-aquatic. Far more
frequently I have found them in the high and dry woods,
not always creeping or darting over the dead leaves, but
in trees and bushes, several feet from the ground, where
they seem to be quite at home, twisting and turning amid
the tangled branches of the stunted oaks as freely as if
on smooth ground. Just what they were seeking in such
situations I could never determine, for I never saw them
robbing birds' nests nor peering into squirrels' homes in
the hollow trees. Tree-toads, I know, they occasionally
capture, but these are not sufficiently abundant to induce
a snake to spend much time in hunting for them.

It is eminently true of this snake, and I believe it is
equally so of all our smaller snakes, that they prey very
largely upon insects. I do not suppose that the aggre-
gate of insect-life thus destroyed is very large, for these
animals, as a class, are not voracious feeders. Yery often
a mouse serves them as a meal, and satisfies their hunger

296 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

for a week or more. It is probable, however, that the
number of mice and young squirrels destroyed by snakes
would be much greater if there were no insects for them
to feed upon. The larger grasshoppers, black crickets,
and even beetles, I have often found in the stomachs of
all our smaller upland snakes.

Another very common species is the true garter-snake.
In the course of a summer more of these garter-snakes
are seen than of individuals of all our other species to-
gether. This arises from the fact, in part, that they are
a social snake, and a dozen or more will often wander
about a chosen haunt in company. I never find one but
I instinctively look about for its companions. They are
quite cunning, and, when hard pressed, exhibit considera-
ble ingenuity in their efforts to escape. They are also, at
times, very irritable, and when cornered they often show
fight as promptly as the hog-nose snakes. They can inflate
their bodies, slightly elevate the scales on their backs, and
thus present a somewhat formidable appearance. Their
needle-like teeth are also brought into play, and with a
great show of courage they bite viciously and even hold
on with some persistence. There, however, it ends.

The eggs of this garter-snake, as well as those of the
preceding, are deposited in the loose, sandy soil of the
recently-plowed fields. I have found none earlier than
May 9th, and once on July 13th I found a complement
of seventeen, within a day or two of hatching. In every
instance they were in fields newly plowed and free of all
vegetation. The depth at which they were placed varied
from three to seven inches.

It is not a little curious that, considering the large
numbers of eggs that are to be found in the earlier part
of summer, so few very small snakes are to be seen. I

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 297

have never come across one less than four inches in
length, except in the cases of the brood of hog-nose
snakes mentioned above, and of those which I have
ushered into day by unceremoniously breaking the egg
before the occupants were quite ready to emerge.

Even larger snakes, those measuring from six to ten
inches in length, are by no means common. This may be
due to the fact that they are surrounded by enemies
which make sad havoc with their numbers, or possibly
some of our smaller mammals may feast upon the eggs.
Precisely what these enemies are I can not determine,
though I am sure of their existence. More than once I
have seen skunks rooting in newly-plowed ground, and
at the time it occurred to me that they were probably
searching for turtles' or snakes' eggs. Those of the tur-
tle would largely escape detection, if an animal searching
for them were guided by scent alone, as they are more
deeply buried, and, except by the snappers, care is taken
in obliterating all trace of the locality. In the case of
the snakes, however, no such care is exercised ; and their
eggs are buried in such a shiftless manner that a hard
rain often exposes them to full view.

"While it sometimes happens, in early spring, that
snakes are met with in such numbers and so closely as-
sociated as to appear as one object with innumerable
heads, I have never seen anything similar to the bundles
or balls of snakes mentioned by some observers. True,
I once saw what I believe to have been fully fifty snakes,
lying " all in a heap," but when I approached them, the
individuality of each became apparent, as they scampered
off in every direction, regardless of their neighbors' move-
ments. A veritable bundle of snakes has been described
in the " American Naturalist " for March, 1880, as fol-
lows : "The statements made by Humboldt, as to the

298 RAMBLES ABOUT HONE.

piles of snakes he saw in Guiana, can be verified here in
our Northern woods and swamps. I personally had the
pleasure of observing it twice, both times very early in
spring, and in localities which could be called wilderness.
I first saw such a bundle of snakes in the neighborhood
of Ilchester, Howard County, Maryland, on the stony
bank of the Patapsco River, heaped together on a rock
and between big stones. It was a very warm and sunny
location, where a human being would scarcely disturb
them. I reasoned that the warmth and silence of that
secluded place brought them together. Some hundreds
of them could be counted, and all of them I found in a
lively state of humor, hissing at me with threatening
glances, with combined forces, and with such a persistency
that stones thrown upon them could not stop them, nor
alter the position of a single animal. They would make
the proper movements and the stone would roll off. All
the snakes in this lump were common (garter) snakes. . . .
The second time I noticed a ball of black-snakes rolling
slowly down a steep and stony hill-side on the bank of
the same river."

Although so much was said of the black-snake, when
speaking of serpents as a class, there are yet points in its
habits that deserve attention. Perhaps no one of our
serpents is more thoroughly dreaded, and with less reason.
It is harmless in every sense of the term, and yet in spite
of this fact, and of the benefits which it confers upon the
farmer, these most useful serpents are becoming yearly
less numerous.

Perhaps the most interesting feature in the history of
the black-snake is the power of " charming " a bird or
small mammal, which it is supposed to possess. This act
is said to consist in exerting, by mere glance of the eye,

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 299

such influence over the bird or mammal as ultimately to
deprive it of all power of locomotion. I must confess
that I am somewhat skeptical on this point, although I
have on several occasions witnessed cases of such " charm-
ing," i. e., cases where small birds were literally fright-
ened to death by the snakes. On careful examination,
however, I found that the snake was suspiciously near the
nest of the victim. The bird evidently experienced a
struggle between the impulse to defend its nest and the
desire to escape a dreaded foe ; and this is, I think, the
explanation of its short flights and quick returns, as
though held by a short string. A victim to these oppos-
ing emotions, the bird finally became exhausted and fell
to the ground within reach of the snake. Once I caught
such an exhausted bird and found that it was simply
worn out. After a half hour's rest, it flew away without
so much as saying " thank you." Further, I believe this
" charming " can only occur among some of our timid
birds, like the chipping-sparrow, summer-warbler, and
others. The biggest black-snake that ever crawled could
no more scare a common wren, than could a frog in a
spring " charm " you. Detailed accounts of such things
have, I know, been frequently published, and no doubt
they were thought to be true ; but in the cases witnessed
by me, a much simpler explanation can be found in the
fact that the snake, instead of exerting any occult power,
simply devoured the exhausted bird that came within its
reach.

Ivalm gives a detailed account of the fascination ex-
ercised by the rattlesnake over squirrels, and incidentally
tells us that the same power is possessed by the black-
snake. The translator of the volumes, however, sees
nothing remarkable about the habit, and suggests a very
reasonable explanation of the fact.

300 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Perhaps snakes do charm birds, as is popularly sup-
posed— but I don't believe it !

Thus far, I have never been able to determine the
maximum length to which a black-snake may grow.
Years ago, I started a discussion upon this point in a
weekly paper, but soon had occasion to regret my temeri-
ty. The stories that were told were beyond the lim-
its of all possibility, and, though gravely assured that
black-snakes ten feet long had not only been killed but
actually measured, I am free to confess that I don't
believe it !

In regard to the length of snakes generally, it is safe
to say that, with timid people, a great deal depends upon
the direction in which the snake was moving at the time
it was seen. As my observing old friend Uz Gaunt once
said to me, " When snakes come towards folks, every foot
looks a yard long."

Within the bounds of my usual rambles I have never
but the once chanced upon that exquisite creature, the
green or summer snake. The locality is not, I suppose,
to their liking, though I sincerely wish that it was.

The one specimen that I saw was captured and kept
alive for several months. It became very tame, and evi-
dently recognized me. Although allowed considerable
liberty, it did not seem to be very active during the day,
but was restless in the evening. It seemed to be more
sensitive to cold than any other of our snakes, and re-
mained under its little blanket when the day was rainy,
or a strong east wind prevailed. It fed upon flies, which
it would take from my hand, seizing them very leisurely,
and swallowing them deliberately. There was nothing
of the snap and gulp of a salamander or toad about the
process. When, however, the snake went fly-hunting on

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 301

its own account, there was a very different state of affairs.
There was still great deliberation, but only until the mo-
ment for action arrived, and then with a snap the fly was
gone.

Occasionally this pet snake would creep among a
number of pots of flowers, and coil about the green
branches. At such times, it would frequently extend
some three or four inches of its body outward and beyond
any support, and thus remain as rigid and apparently
lifeless as a twig. This, probably, was a habit common to
the snake when free, but why it should be indulged in
under such changed surroundings I can not imagine.
Certainly, it was not for the sake of seizing its food, for I
noticed that the snake would assume this position after a
hearty meal, and it did not ordinarily assume it when
asleep. In its proper home, such a habit on the part of a
small snake of this color would render it, for the time,
very secure against such enemies as were guided only by
sight. Even when standing very near the rose-bush upon
which my pet rested, I found it, when in this position, a
very inconspicuous object.

A very common species, and one that is found over
the whole United States, east of the Mississippi River, is
the handsome ring-snake. In my immediate neighbor-
hood, however, they are not often seen. This, I believe,
arises more from the care with which they conceal them-
selves than from their scarcity. Being naturally very
timid, they are ever on the alert, and, hearing an ap-
proaching footstep long before there is any chance of see-
ing them, they scuttle away and burrow beneath the dead
leaves, or seek a hidden recess in some half-rotten log. A
favorite locality with them is beneath the loose bark of a
fallen tree. Here they not only find shelter, but an
abundance of food, as they feed largely upon insect larvsB

302 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and the pupae of the large black ants that have their
nests in rotten wood.

When captured they offer no resistance, and become
apparently reconciled at once to their loss of freedom.
They are not of a mild disposition, but quite the contrary,
when placed-in limited quarters with other snakes. Weak
and timid as they are, their distaste for such company
rouses in them all the energy they possess, and without
hesitation they try to drive off the intruders, even if
twice their size and strength. At such times, too, the
peculiar, pungent odor belonging to them is particularly
noticeable, and I have thought that probably this dis-
agreeable scent was exceedingly offensive to other snakes,
and was therefore one of the means of defense that they

The actions of the ring-snake, when placed with other
species, has further led me to believe that, notwithstand-
ing their offensive smell, the larger snakes occasionally
attack and devour these little fellows ; but I have never
been fortunate enough to prove this by witnessing an at-
tack on the part of a large snake, nor have I ever found
the remains of this snake in the stomach of another.

Another one of our snakes which, from its large size
and brilliant markings, is a most attractive feature of dry,
upland woods, is the spotted adder, which has been given,
strangely enough, the unusual name of " thunder-and-
lightning snake." Beyond darting its forked tongue, it
never even offers to resent molestation, except under cer-
tain circumstances to which reference will shortly be
made.

A few words in regard to serpents' tongues. They
are narrow, cylindrical, and forked. When the snake is
at all disturbed, the tongue is darted out writh great rapid-
ity, and this gives the animal a threatening appearance.

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 303

There the matter ends. The tongue, of itself, is as harm-
less as so much thistle-down, and the creature uses it
principally, if not wholly, in feeling its way along ; for a
snake's eyes are so placed that it can not sea directly in
front of it. Notwithstanding this fact, I find the impres-
sion common, even among educated people, that the tongue
of a snake is a veritable sting, and as certain to produce a
wound as that of a hornet or bee. It signifies nothing
that no one has ever been thus stung. These well-in-
formed people insist that they know that snakes' tongues
are stings, and so they keep clear of them.

To return to the spotted adder. This snake, when
found in the woods coiled upon a heap of dead leaves,
will often closely imitate the peculiar rattle of the rattle-
snake, by vibrating the tail with great rapidity, and in
such a manner as to strike the leaves beneath it. I have
already called attention to this mimicry of the rattlesnake
on the part of the hog-nose snake. There it was, I
thought, a case of accidental imitation, the leaves beneath
the snake being unintentionally struck by the vibrating
tail. However this may be, my impression of this act
on the part of the spotted adder is that the noise is pro-
duced intentionally. Of course, I do not mean to say
that it is so far intentional as to be a studied imitation of
the sound made by the rattlesnake, that being a point
that can not be ascertained, and it would be crediting
them with too great a degree of intelligence to assume
that they studied the habits of their fellow-serpents and
profited by them.

The last spotted adder that I had the pleasure of find-
ing vibrated the tail in a very marked manner. When
first seen, tha snake was lying on a thicjk bed of dead oak-
leaves in the woods. It was closely coiled, and, when
disturbed, raised its head, hissed, darted its tongue, and

304 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

at the same time vibrated the tail very rapidly and in
such a manner that it gently struck the dead leaves as it
moved up and down. The motion was distinctly up and
down, and not sideways, as in the case of the hog-nose
snake. The sound produced was exactly like that of a
medium-sized rattlesnake. On removing the snake to a
spot near by, where there was only grass, I found that
the movement of the tail was not repeated, although
some time elapsed before I teased it. After several ef-
forts I replaced the snake among the leaves and allowed
it to remain for more than an hour. It made no effort to
escape, and, when I returned suddenly, it quickly coiled
itself as before, repeated the vibratory movement of the
tail, and produced the same rattling sound as before.
This can scarcely be considered as positive evidence ; but
my impression then was, and still is, that the snake de-
pended upon the dead leaves to produce the rattling
sound, and trusted to the sound to frighten its tormentor.
As we naturally associate this sound with the similar but
very significant rattle of the rattlesnake, are the two spe-
cies in any manner connected ?

A similar occurrence to that mentioned above has been
described in the "American Naturalist," September, 1879,
and the writer asks : " Is this to be called an example of
4 mimicry ' ? May it be said that, far back in the past, some
sagacious ancestor, witnessing that act of intimidation on
the part of a rattlesnake, and observing how successful
it was, resolved to adopt the practice itself, and thus,
through inheritance, the practice became ingrafted upon
this species ? "

It has not, so far as I am aware, been shown that the
sound produced by the vibration of the tail does produce
a feeling of terror in the breast of any creature, whether
it is attacking the snake or attacked by it. If it be true

SHORT STUDIES OF SNAKES. 305

that snakes overcome their prey by rendering them
powerless through fear, then any sound that is peculiar
to snakes would, when heard, frighten the animal, but
only to such a degree as to put it on guard ; and such a
sound would prove detrimental to the snake's welfare.
Even in the case of the rattlesnake, it does not add to the
horror that its appearance produces. We are quite in
the dark as to the reason why these sounds are made ; but
that reason, be it what it may, is quite probably the same,
whether made by the rattlesnakes with their peculiar ap-
paratus, or by the simpler method adopted by the spotted
adder. Certainly, so far as man is concerned, this sound
is an almost certain means of causing the snake's death.
Had it kept quiet it might have escaped observation ; but
in thus giving notice of its whereabouts it signed its own
death-warrant. This has so long been the case, that if
the harmless spotted adder had possessed sufficient intel-
ligence to see the advantage of the rattle to the rattle-
snake, and had been determined to imitate it, as well as
it could, it should also have learned that this same sound,
when made within the hearing of some of its enemies,
would endanger its safety, if not work its destruction.

One other thought arises in this connection. In the
case of the rattlesnake, admitting that the rattles have
been evolved whsn the environment was w^holly different,
may it not be that the peculiarity is now retained, albeit
no longer useful ; while with such harmless species as
the hog-nose snake and spotted adder, it is quite probable
that the element of fear on the part of the snake plays an
important part, and that this "rattling" is a result of
fright on their part, rather than a desire to excite a simi-
lar feeling in their enemies ?

There is yet another snake, occasionally met with in

RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

this neighborhood, known by a score of unmeaning names,
not one of which is characteristic. De Kay, in the " Nat-
ural History of New York," calls it the " red-snake," and
Jordan, in his " Manual of Vertebrates," " ground-snake."

It is not, strictly speaking, a red snake, neither is it
even always of a reddish color, nor does it cling more
closely to the ground than most of those other serpents
that have been mentioned. By many it is called the
" blind snake," because of the small size of its head, and,
in fact, the head and tail are so similar in size and shape
that this name is fully as descriptive as either of the
others.

The few specimens that I have seen have varied in
color from a blue-gray to a reddish brown ; but whatever
may be the color, it is uniform, and this, together with its
small size and the absence of everything like stripes or
spots, at once decides the identity of the species.

I have been accustomed, in my field-notes, to call this
little serpent the "cricket-snake," from the fact that I
have twice found specimens with crickets in their mouths.
One of these specimens was of a decided blue color, and
the other a very pale brown, or clay color. I associated
the color with the surroundings, and have since won-
dered whether or not, like the tree-toad, it might not vary
in this respect with the character of the locality it chanced
to occupy. It is scarcely necessary to add that it is quite
harmless, and offers no resistance when handled. In its
general habits it presents no striking peculiarities.

So much for the eleven species of snakes that I have
mentioned. Twenty years of familiarity should have
yielded better results, but it has not.

CHAPTER XXXII.

uz GAUNT'S SNAKE-STOKY.

" WELL, as a sort of a text to my discourse, let me say,
when a snake's runnin' away from you, you can measure
it by inches ; but when it's comin' after you, every inch
is a foot long. That's how one feels about it.

" Now, when the June fresh' was over the meadows,
and everything that wasn't a fish was afloat, I was busy
after ducks and anything else worth shootin'. "Well, one
morning, as I was floatin' about, seein' more curious ob-
jects at a glance than I ever did before or since, my eyes
rested on a big water-snake lyin' full stretch on a fence-
rail. He was a whopper, now, I tell you. The rail was
eleven foot lono; — I measured it — and the head of the

O

snake was at one end, and the tail mighty close to the
other."

" Are you sure of that, Uz ? " I asked doubtingly.

" Don't interrupt, boy ; that's the easiest part of it,"
Uz continued. " Well, I wanted the skin of that snake,
jnst to show folks ; so I blazed away. I aimed at the mid-
dle of the snake, and no sooner than I'd pulled trigger,
when all of a sudden about a hundred snakes raised up on
that rail and seemed to make for me. I came near upset-
tin' the boat, I was so taken aback. What I'd seen wasn't
one big snake at all, but a whole swad of 'em, and they
had just twisted 'round each other like strands of a rope,

308 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and lay there, baskin' in the sun, on that fence-rail. So
soon as I had taken it all in, I laughed right out, and
wasn't scared a bit then ; but, boy, I wasn't out of the
woods by a long shot. Now here comes the toughest
yarn you ever heard from me, at least you'll think it a
yarn."

"Indeed, I will not," I said very earnestly.

" You say so now ; but never mind, and let me have
all the say for a while," Uz continued, and I acquiesced
by a nod of the head.

" Well, I was gazin' 'round at the snakes that were
swimming all about, and some of 'em were climbin' back
on the fence-rail. There were lots of 'em, big and little,
and every sort I ever saw about here, I believe. Not want-
in' any, I turned off, arid sculled toward Swan Island flood-
gates. I found there was a big hollow buttonwood
lodged right across the gates. I sculled up close to it,
expectin' to see somethin' in or about it, for everything
afloat then, you know, had its living freight. I held my
gun ready, thinkin' there might be a mink or otter
around : when, just as I was scrapin' against the tree,
down rattled a whoppin' big snake into the boat, and
another followin', and another and another after them,
for all I know. I pushed off, quick as I could, but was
kind o' tangled in among the branches at the time, and,
before I got clear, there were three thunderin' big snakes
coiled up in the bottom of my canoe. I eyed 'em pretty
close, and didn't recognize 'em. They had the look of
the common puff-adder, or " hog-nose," as you call 'em,
but didn't look the same. They were most too big, and
seemed to be spotted in a different way. Perhaps they
were all right and harmless, but I didn't like their looks.
In a minute I made up my mind to get rid of 'em if I
could, and lifted my scull out of the water. One of 'em,

UZ G AUNT'S SNAKE-STORY. 309

coiled up nearest to me, raised his head, as I did this,
and set his tail a-buzzin' like mad. I heard the sound,
clear and clean, and saw that the critter was a rattle-
snake. I gave one look at the other two, and they was
the same. There I sat, in the stern of the little boat, with
three rattlesnakes eyin' me, and not one of 'em six feet
off. I don't quite remember just what I did, but some-
how without accident I got the scull back, and started on.
Either the near snake by his looks told me, or some-
thing else did, that if I put for dry land they wouldn't
make trouble. Now it's a good half mile to the hill-side
from the Swan Island gates, and I took a straight course,
I tell you. Big fool that I was for bein' so frightened ;
I didn't keep much of a look ahead, and, 'fore I knew it,
I went bump into a big saw-log that had come down the
river. The boat came to with a jerk, and up raised every
one of them snakes fully a foot or more, and didn't say
anything, but looked at me, as much as to say, ' Do that
again, Uz Gaunt, and your goose is cooked.' I hadn't
control of my scull as I generally have, but somehow I
made out to get movin' again. Luck was against me
somehow, and I got into a tangle of grass and brush, but
didn't come to a stand-still. One of the snakes, though,
didn't like the sound of the boat's bottom gratin' over
the brush, so it raised up, and coiled on a box that
was lyin' at my feet. He settled on that box, with one
lap of his coils restin' on the toe of my boot. I didn't
dare to stir. All of a sudden that foot began to tickle
like, and I wanted to wiggle my toes, but I didn't dare
to. Then that leg got to sleep, and I couldn't shift it.
It hadn't any feelin' in it, and I felt as though I'd tum-
ble over on one side. It was no use. There was that one
snake, on guard like, and it was evident to stir was cer-
tain death. The boat didn't seem to move ahead worth

310 E AMBLES ABOUT HOME.

a cent ; I kept my scull goin', but it didn't send the boat
spinnin' along as I've often done when chasin' a wound-
ed duck. But I did come up to the shore in time, right
close by the Pearson house on the hill-top, and somehow
everything came to me all of a sudden as the boat grated
on the sand. I gave a jump, clearin' the length of the
boat, and made for the hill-top. i Uz, you're a fool,' I
said to myself before I'd taken many steps, and came to
a stop. There I was, free as air, yet runnin' as though
the snakes was after me. Soberin' down a bit, I walked
back toward the boat, and peered 'round very careful,
I tell you. There was no sign of the snakes on land,
and I went close up to the boat. There the three ver-
min were, sure enough. I didn't know just what to do.
I'd left my gun in the boat, besides, forgettin' all about
it in my hurry ; besides, I couldn't have shot anyhow
without hurtin' the boat, and it was my new cedar skiff.
Thinkin' a minute. I cut a stout saplin', and, getting
near enough, I gave one of 'em a pat on the head, and
straightened him out, and then tackled t'other two. They
didn't show any fight, and I got through all right, and,
gettin' in my boat again, I pitched 'em out on the sand.
Somehow they'd a sort of natural look, now they were
dead, and, lookin' closer, hang me if every snake's tail
wasn't as smooth as a whip-lash ! Oh ! but I was mad.
To think of bein' scared out of my wits by next to noth-
in', for every one was a harmless adder. From then till
now I've hated snakes, and always shall."

I laughed at his story, and he joined me, so far as to
smile, for Uz never laughed aloud, I believe.

" I never supposed you saw anything that far wrong,
Uz," I remarked, after a pause.

" I don't often, I believe ; but when it comes to snakes,
I'm sure of nothin'. It's with me, when I see snakes, as

HZ G AUNT'S SNAKE-STORY. 311

with many people who see commoner sights. I jumped
at a conclusion, and conceited I never could jump in a
wrong direction. Fact is, you've got to stop a bit and
consider, whatever you do. With most of us it's a good
deal like walkin' over Watson's meadows. Often greener
grass grows on quicksand than the stiff dirt ; but it don't
do to walk on it, nevertheless."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

SHORT STUDIES OF BATKACHIANS.

IT is with, some hesitation that I venture to utilize
the few notes that I have made upon the habits of the
many batrachians common to central New Jersey. So
promising a field is here offered, that I feel ashamed at
not having long since availed myself of the opportunity
of studying this class of animals, in spite of the difficulty
which is often experienced of observing them to advan-
tage when in their chosen haunts. A salamander, for
instance, will remain absolutely motionless for an hour
on or under some dead leaf, in the trickling waters that
wend their way riverward from a mossy spring. To sit
or stand for an hour, and watch this immovable creature,
is both painful and monotonous, and when, at last, you
disturb it, perhaps accidentally, away it goes to some
similar spot near by, and resumes its motionless attitude.
To spend more time, perhaps plagued the while with
suspicions of possible rheumatism, and serenaded by mos-
quitoes, is scarcely practicable, and studies of salamander
life soon become a bore. That their whole time is not
spent in lying still, or in creeping in the mud, is the one
fact about which I am certain; and however discour-
aging this result may be, it is possible that some future
observer may have better luck.

The toads and frogs are more easily observed, and
their habits have been so closely studied that there are

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIAN8. 313

few people who are not familiar with the prominent
points of their life-histories. This, however, need not
deter us from studying them, as probably not one half
the whole truth is yet known ; and, besides, there are
many prevalent errors to be corrected.

Referring to frogs, I recall the words of Peter Kalm,
when he visited this neighborhood. One hundred and
thirty-two years ago, yesterday (May 31st), he records
that " toward night, after the tide had begun to ebb, and
the wind was quite subsided, we could not proceed, but
dropped our anchor about seven miles from Trenton, and
passed the night there. The woods were full of fire-flies
(Lampyris), which flew like sparks of fire between the
trees, and sometimes across the river. In the marshes
the bullfrogs now and then began their hideous roaring,
and more than a hundred of them roared together. The
whip-poor-will was likewise heard everywhere." While
I am writing I glance from my paper, through the study-
window, and I see the very spot where Kalm tarried on
that summer night. The same marshes are there, and
remains of the forest ; and on any pleasant summer night
we may still see myriads of fire-flies, and hear the <; hide-
ous roaring " of the frogs, and scarcely less monotonous
call of the whippoorwill.

Let us now consider these various frogs and salaman-
ders seriatim.

Perhaps the most common of all our frogs is that of
which Kalm has given a very good description in his
" Travels in North America." Speaking of it, he says ;
" 22ana ocellata are a kind of frogs here (New Jersey),
which the Swedes call sill-hoppe tosser, i. e., herring-hop-
pers, and which now (March) began to quack in the
evening and at night, in swamps, pools, and ponds. The
name which the Swedes give them is derived from their

14

314: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

beginning to make their noise in spring, at the same
time when the people here go catching what are called
herrings, which, however, differ greatly from the true
European herrings. These frogs have a peculiar note,
which is not like that of our European frogs, but rather
corresponds with the chirping of some large birds, and
can nearly be expressed by pi-cet (pee-seet). With this
noise they continue throughout a great part of spring,
beginning their noise soon after sun-setting and finishing
it just before sun-rising. The sound was sharp, but yet
so loud that it could be heard at a great distance. When
they expected rain they cried much worse than commonly,
and began in the middle of the day or when it grew
cloudy, and the rain came usually six hours after. As it
snowed on the 16th of the next month (April), and blew
very violently all day, there was not the least sign of
them at night, and during the whole time that it was cold,
and while the snow was on the fields, the frost had so
silenced them, that we could not hear one ; but, as soon as
the mild weather returned, they began their noise again.
They were very timorous, and it was difficult to catch
them, for as soon as a person approached the place where
they lived, they are quite silent, and none of them ap-
peared. It seems that they hide themselves entirely
under water, except the tip of the snout, when they cry ;
for, when I stepped to the pond where they were in, I
could not observe a single one hopping into the water.
I could not see any of them before I had emptied a whole
pool where they lodged in. Their color is a dirty green,
variegated with spots of brown. When they are touched,
they make a noise and moan ; they then sometimes as-
sume a form as if they had blown up the hind part of the
back, so that it makes a high elevation ; and then they do
not stir, though touched."

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 315

This " herring-frog," as it is usually called, is, I be-
lieve, the first to " give tongue " on the return of spring.
Hibernation with them is, at best, an uncertain and impa-
tient sleep ; and even as early as the middle of February,
if there be a few consecutive warm days, they will com-
mence what is complimentarily called, nowadays, their
song.

There is a saying common among my neighbors that
these herring-frogs must be " shut up " three times by
frost before spring fairly opens. I made a note of this
years ago, and subsequent observation has shown that
it would be nearer right to say "three times three"
times.

The eggs of this frog are deposited on the margins of
quiet waters, and adhere loosely to twigs and dead grass.
In a short time (I am not sure just how many days, but
think it varies with the temperature considerably) the
eggs are hatched, and then the waters become fairly alive
with diminutive tadpoles.

By this time these herring-frogs have become com-
paratively silent, and are careless of the welfare of their
young. They leave the water for much of the time,
though they never wander far from it. In the tall grass
that grows along the banks of every pool they forage for
flies; and they seem to live without any ambition, save
that of supplying their daily wants and guarding against
the approach of snakes, by whom they are often sur-
prised. A chapter on this subject remains to be written.
That there is a homoeopathic dose of mind in a frog's
cranium, I doubt not ; but I am free to admit, so far as
these sill-hoppe tossers of the Swedes are concerned, that
I have never found much evidence of the fact. They
approach as near to being mere automata as any creatures
I know.

316 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

The pickerel-frog may be said to differ from the pre-
ceding in the number and position of a few spots on the
back : the herring-frog has the spots in two rows, while
in the pickerel-frog they are in four. This is the one
apparent difference, though there may be others not as
marked. This slight variation in color and markings is
constant and uniform, and it must have been brought
about by some potent cause, supposing that these and
our other frogs are derived from some ancestral type
which is at once like, yet unlike, the five species that now
frequent our meadows ; and no other supposition is ten-
able.

I have tried in vain to detect some difference in habit,
or variation in date of appearance, or preference for dif-
ferent localities, of these two kinds of frogs ; but all in
vain. Where the one is, there we find the other also,
arid the two species even keep up their croakings in
concert. Possibly, there may be a little difference in
their voices ; but of this I am not sure. Of the fact, that
they belong to two species, there can be no doubt, and, as
this difference can not be one of color alone, it is idle to
suppose that we are acquainted with the full history of
their lives. This we shall never be until we discover
some action that is habitually performed by one and not
by the other, or until we discover some places that are
frequented by one and as carefully shunned by the other.

What claims, it may be asked, have these frogs upon
us ? This is easily answered. They are not only great
checks upon an undue increase of insect life, but they are
also scavengers. They do not, it is true, wander about
the uplands in search of decaying animal-matter ; but in
the waters they frequent they consume much that would
otherwise render them impure. The minute larvre of
aquatic insects are destroyed by them in vast quantities,

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 317

and such decaying animal-matter as collects in every
spring and running brook is likewise consumed. If care
be taken to exclude every frog and salamander from a
spring, it will be found that very soon the water will not
be so pure, however strong the current, as is that of a
frog-frequented spring. I have proved this by several
careful experiments, and it can only be explained by the
fact that these frogs feed upon such organic matter as
would, in time, if allowed to remain, affect the quality of
the water. In these frogs, then, we have beautiful, harm-
less, useful, and cheerful, if not. strictly speaking, mu-
sical animals. Is not their title to our good wishes well
established ?

There are other frogs, though, that will attract atten-
tion, if we wander by the brookside, with an eye to what-
ever is to be seen. A beautiful species, usually called
the spring-frog, is likewise very abundant in the meadows,
where, all the day long, he sits quietly on the bank of a
ditch, unless alarmed, when he gives a great, flying leap,
and dives into the depths with a loud splash. Not content
with this, he burrows into the mud or hides in the grass,
and it then takes a sharp pair of eyes indeed to discover
him. "When I startle a herring or pickerel frog, I can
not tell which it is until I get a glance at the spots on
the back. Both move alike ; and they jump into the
water with a neat dive that scarcely ruffles the surface.
It is otherwise, however, with the spring-frog. When I
see him flying through the air, with all legs well spread,
and hear the splash, I say at once, " clamitans," and nine
times in ten I am right.

This large green frog is not so sensitive to cold as
the preceding, and, though " mum " after a frost, it will
nevertheless be fully as active as in summer, and will
skip over the dead grass with marvelous speed if it sus-

318 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

pects any danger. While, perhaps, not the earliest to sing
during the few spring days which we sometimes have
late in February, yet it follows very closely in the wake
of the others, and repeats much the same sounds, but in
a deeper voice — a sort of bass accompaniment to the
treble of the herring-frog. Here, perhaps, it would be
well to mention that Kalm's impression, derived from
the Swedes, that the singing of the herring-frog an-
nounced the arrival of the herring, is not quite correct.
They anticipate the coming of the fish, by from two to
three weeks, in five years out of every six. This is true
of late years, and it is doubtful if the herring ever came
any earlier than now.

I have usually found the eggs of this frog, in May,
attached to long grass. They are larger, and are depos-
ited in bulky, irregular masses of a glossy, gelatinous
substance, which holds them safe, even in strong currents
of water, until the eggs are hatched. So conspicuous are
these masses of ova, that I have often wondered why they
were not devoured by the fishes and turtles. These ani-
mals, however, do not appear to molest them ; at least, I
have never seen either turtles or fish in the act. This is
negative evidence, it is true, and must go for what it is
worth.

Unlike the frogs already mentioned, the spring-frog
does not hibernate with the regularity supposed to be
characteristic of these animals generally. Every winter
I have found that several took up their residence, for the
season, in the deep water of a large spring near the house.
This gave me abundant opportunities for observing them,
and I found that while they remained at the bottom of
the spring more than they did during the summer, yet
they occasionally came to the surface, and stuck the tips
of their noses just out of the water. I believe they took

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHTANS. 319

no food from November to March. Indeed, I could not
see an}T living prey for them to take ; and the fact that, in
several specimens which I dissected, the digestive tract
was quite empty, confirmed me in the supposition.

Occasionally, in my rambles, I have chanced upon
deeper ponds and more retired spots, where, thinking
naturally of fish, rather than frogs, I have been startled,
as I passed carelessly along, by a loud splash, or a deep
note as hoarse as that of a bull in some neighboring pas-
ture, but not otherwise similar. I had startled a bull-
frog.

From the high bank, into the deep water, away he
had gone, and my chance of seeing him again was indeed
small. This deep-voiced, noisy, splashing frog is the
largest of the five species common to New Jersey, and,
when full grown, it is a rather formidable-looking creat-
ure, though, like all the frogs, it is of course quite harm-
less.

The bull-frogs did not fail to attract the attention of
Kalm when traveling through New Jersey, and he re-
lates some marvelous stories concerning them. His ac-
count is as follows : " Bull-frogs are a large species of
frogs, which I had an opportunity of hearing and seeing
to-day (May 5th, 1749). As I was riding out I heard a
roaring before me, and I thought it was a bull in the
bushes, on the other side of the dyke, though the sound
was rather more hoarse than that of a bull. I was, how-
ever, afraid that a bad goring bull might be near me,
though I did not see him, and I continued to think so
till some hours after, when I talked with some Swedes
about the bull-frogs, and, by their account, I immediately
found that I had heard their voice ; for the Swedes told
me that there were numbers of them in the dyke. I

320 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

afterward hunted for them. Of all the frogs in this
country this is doubtless the greatest. I am told that
toward autumn, as soon as the air begins to grow a little
cool, they hide themselves under the mud which lies at
the bottom of ponds and stagnant waters, and lie there
torpid during winter. As soon as the weather grows
mild toward summer they begin to get out of their
holes, and croak. If the spring, that is, if the mild
weather, begins early, they appear about the end of March,
old style ; but if it happens late, they tarry under water
till late in April. Their places of abode are ponds and
bogs with stagnant water ; they are never in any flowing
water. "When many of them croak together they make
an enormous noise. Their croak exactly resembles the
roaring of an ox or bull which is somewhat hoarse.
They croak so loud that two people talking by the side
of a pond can not understand each other. They croak
all together ; then stop a little, and begin again. It seems
as if they had a captain among them : for when he be-
gins to croak, all the others follow ; and wThen he stops,
the others are all silent. When this captain gives the
signal for stopping, you hear a note like ' Po — 0£>/'
coming from him. In day-time they seldom make any
great noise, unless the sky is covered. But the night is
their croaking-time ; and when all is calm you may hear
them, though you. are near a mile and a half off. When
they croak they commonly are near the surface of the
water, under the bushes, and have their heads out of
water. Therefore, by going slowly one may get close up
to them before they go away. As soon as they are quite
under water they think themselves safe, though the water
be very shallow.

" Sometimes they sit at a good distance from the
pond ; but as soon as they suspect any danger, they has-

SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 321

ten with great leaps into the water. They are very ex-
pert at hopping. A full-grown bull-frog takes near three
yards at one hop. I have often been told the following
story by the old Swedes, which happened here at the
time when the Indians lived with the Swedes. It is well
known that the Indians are excellent runners ; I have
seen them, at Governor Johnson's, equal the best horse in
its swiftest course, and almost pass it. Therefore, in
order to try how well the bull-frogs could leap, some of the
Swedes laid a wager with a young Indian that he could
not overtake the frog, provided it had two leaps before-
hand. They carried a bull- frog, which they had caught
in a pond, upon a field, and burnt his hips ; the fire and
the Indian, who endeavored to be closely up with the
frog, had such an effect upon the animal that it made its
long hops across the field as fast as it could. The Indian
began to pursue the frog with all his might at the proper
time : the noise he made in running frightened the poor
frog ; probably it was afraid of being tortured with fire
again, and therefore it redoubled its leaps, and by that
means it reached the pond before the Indian overtook it.

"In some years they are more numerous than in
others: nobody could tell whether the snakes had ever
ventured to eat them, though they eat all the lesser kinds
of frogs. The women are no friends to these frogs, be-
cause they kill and eat young ducklings and goslings ;
sometimes they carry off chickens that come too near the
ponds. I have not observed that they bite when they
are held in the hands, though they have little teeth ;
when they are beaten they cry out almost like children.
I was told that some eat the thighs of the hind legs, and
that they are very palatable."

If the above is correct in all its parts, then we have
few, if any, such bull-frogs as Kalrn saw in 1749. The

322 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

environment has grown yearly less desirable, and degen-
eration has set in. In a few score generations more the
mammoth bnll-frog itself will have gone the way of the
mastodon and great auk, and there will be left but a few
pygmy descendants to testify to its great size.

Let us, however, take up Kalm's description by sec-
tions, and see how it applies to the indefinitely great-
great-grandchildren of the frogs of his time. And, first
of all, as to its voice : can any one say now that the
familiar notes, often and aptly likened to " jug-o'-rum,
jug-o'-rum," has a bovine sound ? Of late I. have lin-
gered long in the meadows, listening to the bull-frogs in
the ditch hard by, and then to the mooing of the cows
as they come from the pasture. Perhaps there is a simi-
larity, but I could never detect it. So common, how-
ever, is it to hear the comparison made, that I suppose
the resemblance must have been true of them formerly,
if not now. Gabriel Thomas, in his quaint little history
of Pennsylvania, published in 1698, speaking of the vari-
ous sorts of frogs, says there is " the Bull Frog, which
makes a roaring noise, hardly to be distinguished from
that well known of the Beast from whom it takes its
Name." I can only go so far as to admit it is a deep
bass note, but always well defined, and not a roar, even
when a dozen are croaking together. Kalm's description
of their croaking in concert is excellent, but it would be
better to say that each concert has its leader, rather than
each company its captain. The latter, if true, would be
evidence of considerable intelligence ; but it is only ap-
parently true of them. I have very carefully watched
the bull-frogs in a pond near my house, and have found
that the croaking of the " captain " is not always that
of the same individual. At times the initial croak
would come from one side of the pond, then the other.

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 323

and so continue to vary. This shows at once that not
any one individual started and stopped the croaking of
its companions.

As to their leaping, Kalm is extravagant in his esti-
mates. He says "near three yards at one leap," but
does not say how near. The biggest old " bloody-noun "
I could ever find could not, or would not, hop three
yards at one hop for me, although I spurred him on in
many ways, even to scaring him with a snake. The
longest hop fell short of seven feet by some inches.
Perhaps the frogs in Kalm's time were larger than those
that grow about here to-day, or it may be that they made
spring-boards of lily-leaves, and so had a decided advan-
tage in jumping. As to the running-match with the
Indian, it is evident that the latter could not have been
in running condition that day, or he would have done
better ; possibly he was a little rheumatic. The fact is
that our modern frogs get out of wind after three or four
consecutive hops, and are readily overtaken ; and it is
probably for this reason that they are careful never to
wander too far from water, as they know that, in propor-
tion to the distance they go inland, they increase the
danger of exposure to snakes; but, when on the bank
of the pond or ditch, they can easily avoid an enemy by
one leap into the water, and often into the deeper mud
beneath it. Stupid as frogs appear to be, they merit the
credit of this degree of intelligence. Again, it is strange
that there should have been any doubt as to the fact that
snakes ate the bull-frogs, however large they might grow ;
for it is no uncommon occurrence for a slender whip-lash
of a garter-snake to dispose of a meadow-mouse. By
some mechanical ingenuity and physiological black art,
their little jaws drop apart wide enough to take in the
mouse, and down it goes into a darker retreat than any

324 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

that it had previously explored. It is scarcely necessary
to entertain the suggestion that perhaps snakes formerly
did not eat bull-frogs, as that is nonsense ; but strange
indeed is it that Kalm should have been in any doubt
about the matter.

It is, on the other hand, all too true u that they are
very palatable," and to this unfortunate circumstance
must be ascribed the fact that these great goggle-eyed
frogs, that lend such a charm to quiet ponds and hidden
swampy hollows, are now comparatively scarce.

Out of the meadows and into the woods, away from
the muddy ponds and stagnant puddles, to the leafy
haunts of squirrels and chipmunks ; and here, if it be
even a little damp, we may chance upon another frog,
which in color, habits, and disposition is unlike all the
others. I mean the little brown wood-frog. It is liter-
ally quick as a flash, and for some reason has a great
dread of mankind ; at least, it takes wonderful leaps, and
plenty of them, whenever any one happens to come too
near. I know of no harder task than to chase a wood-
frog over uneven ground.

Except in April, when they congregate at some neigh-
boring pond and lay their eggs, these frogs frequent the
woods the year through, feeding on flies and such small
fry until frost comes, when they burrow some two feet
deep in damp earth, and there they remain until the
weather has become fairly spring-like.

By people who ought to know better these wood-
frogs are confounded with the tree-toads. Why two
creatures so unlike should be mistaken for one another
passeth comprehension ; yet, in spite of all the zoological
literature, and thousands of school-teachers, such is the
fact. Worse than this : I know of a lad, with a correct

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 325

knowledge of our batrachians, who dared to correct his
teacher on this matter while on a Saturday fishing-frolic,
and who was in turn " corrected " by the teacher on the
following Monday.

Here, then, we have five well-marked species of frogs,
all found in great numbers in this one limited locality,
and available to the student every day in the year. That
they have taught me so little is my fault, not theirs.

A toad-like creature, yet differing from toads and
frogs, is known among naturalists as the " hermit spade-
foot." It is seldom seen ; more seldom is it to find any
person who has knowingly seen one, and, if it should hap-
pen to be accidentally encountered, the average citizen
would, if he looked at it at all, probably say " hop-toad,"
and never suspect that it was a very different animal. But,
then, why should he, as the average citizen does not usually
want knowledge that can not be converted into dollars
and cents?

The spade-foot is wholly terrestrial in its habits. Like
the frogs and hop-toads, it goes to the water to spawn,
but at no other time. The eggs are placed around a
single spike of grass, and are said to hatch in six days.
The growth of the tadpoles " is very rapid, not more than
two or three weeks elapsing before the young toads leave
the water."

My first acquaintance with the spade-foot was in May,
18T4. Passing, early one morning, by the side of a
shallow pond, thickly overgrown with rank vegetation,
my attention was called to a peculiar and very loud noise,
coming from the water, and which was quite new to me.
As has been remarked by a prominent naturalist, " the
peculiar, harsh croaking of this singular toad must be
heard to be appreciated, and can then never be confounded

326 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

with that of any other species. The only sound we can
liken it to is that of a heavily-loaded, creaking wagon
rolling over hard and uneven ground." As I can not
improve upon it, I will let this go as a description of the
noise spade- foots make ; but it does not, by any means,
do justice to their squealing, grunt-like croaks.

On hearing, for the first' time, this fearful racket, I
straightway turned my steps pondward, and found the
place literally alive with the toads. At first glance I
took them to be the common species, but was puzzled by
the sound. Then, on closer inspection, I found them to
be the rare spade-foots. They continued in the pond for
five days, but made but little noise during the last two.
On the sixth day there was not one to be found anywhere
about. I searched for several days, but found no trace
of them, nor have I seen one in the eight years that have
passed since that time.

This toad may be described as a terrestrial batrachian
which burrows "in the damp earth, a few inches below
the surface, which it excavates with great ease by means
of its spade-like processes or sharp-edged spurs growing
from their heels. In these holes it lies in wait for such
insects as may approach, and I suspect can spring forth
to seize whatever may be passing incautiously near its
hiding-place. I remarked, at least in those which I had
alive, that it leaped with great, apparent ease to a consid-
erable distance." So writes De Kay, in his "Natural
History of New York/5

Another batrachian with which all are more or less
familiar, unless their whole lives have been spent in a
large city, is the tree-toad. Unlike the common toad,
which is terrestrial, or the frogs, that are aquatic, this ani-
mal leads an arboreal life. In anatomical structure,

SHOUT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 327

therefore, it differs from both the others, so far as this is
necessary to its peculiar mode of life ; the most promi-
nent variation being found in the lingers and toes, which
are more or less dilated into disks at their tips.

This little tree-toad soon attracted the attention of the
early colonists of New Jersey, and I find mention made
of it as early as 1698. Gabriel Thomas, whom I have
already quoted, refers to a " sort of Frog, that crawls up to
the tops of Trees, there seeming to imitate the Notes of
several Birds" The idea of the resemblance of its note
to that of "several birds," or of any one kind of bird, is
rather amusing. Like all of our batrachians, the tree-
toads make their way to the water as the proper place
for depositing their eggs. These eggs are " attached
singly and in small groups along the grasses resting on
the water's surface." E<rgs deposited on May 10th are
recorded by Miss Ilinckley, in the " Proceedings of the
Boston Society of Natural History," to have hatched two
days later, and passed through the tadpole state by July
4th, when the tadpoles were found " at the water's edge,
with the tail reduced to a mere stump."

My own knowledge of these little creatures covers
only their arboreal life. I have never seen them except
in their high and dry quarters ; not always dry, either,
for they love damp hollows in the angles of the branches
where a little rain lodges.

The old apple-trees in the lane are sure to be tenanted
by several tree-toads every year, and the little that I have
learned of them has been by watching those that fre-
quented this one locality. This, by the way, is not re-
commended as a safe way of studying the habits of ani-
mals, as there would be nothing improbable, from what
we know of other animals, in tree-toads acting quite dif-
ferently in different trees. Suppose them, for instance,

328 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

to be hiding in a cedar or in a weeping-willow, and it is
evident that trees so widely different would make it ne-
cessary that their movements when in pursuit of insects
should be quite different, for they do not sit quietly in
one spot, trusting to sufficient prey coming within their
reach. I have not been able to learn how far these ani-
mals vary in the choice of their haunts, as I know them
almost only as frequenting the apple-trees.

As is well known, the tree-toad is nocturnal and cre-
puscular in its habits. By day it sits very still in some
quiet nook. By sitting still it must not be supposed
that it makes no noise. Far from it. Let a patch of
cloud as big as a barn-door cast a shadow over it, and the
fretful fellow at once begins to croak. This croak is so
very generally regarded as a sign of rain, that it almost
invariably calls forth the remark, " It is going to rain,"
from some one who has happened to hear it. Even the
Indians looked upon it in this light, and so did the Swedes
in South Jersey. I am sorry, however, to have to say
that the toads in the apple-trees have undermined my
faith in the "sign," as they have not shown themselves
superior in prophetic ability to the man who gravely in-
forms us what the weather will be when the indications
are unmistakable. The croaks and the coming rain, so
far as my apple-tree toads are concerned, are mere coinci-
dences— nothing more — as the following observations
will show : In 1880 the tree-toads croaked every day
from May 9th to July 12th, both inclusive, and there
were but six wet days during the sixty-five. The next
summer gave the same results ; and during the early part
of the summer of 1882, during which there was a consid-
erable drought, it was the same thing. They croaked
more or less every day, hot or cool, sunshine or clouds,
and far more at noon-time than either in the early morn-

SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 329

or at evening. The supposition that they are particu-
larly noisy at night is wholly inapplicable to my apple-
tree toads. Had I never heard anything about these ani-
mals, I should have reported them as croaking not be-
cause it was likely to rain, but because it was so dry that
they were suffering for want of moisture. After an un-
usually hot day, during the early summer, I have noticed
that they croak a great deal after sunset, when the air
becomes damper, seemingly out of pure satisfaction at
the desirable change ; while during our annual summer
drought they croak much at mid-day, and this, I have
thought, was a cry of impatience uttered in anticipation
of the refreshing bath of dew that only comes with
night-fall.

"When we do have a fairly wet season, these tree- toads
are less full of croak than during a dry one ; and never
have I been able to detect the slightest connection be-
tween the cries of the apple-tree toads in the lane and
either a passing shower or a coming storm.

It may be asked of the tree-toad, as of many another
of our fauna, are they as abundant as formerly ? In an-
swer to this, I quote Captain Jonathan Carver, who, in the
concluding chapter of his " Travels in Korth America "
(1766-'69), says : " These creatures . . . infest the woods
in such numbers that their responsive notes at these times
make the air resound." The rest of the notice is a mixt-
ure of truth and absurdity, and is omitted ; but the por-
tion quoted would indicate that either tree-toads were for-
merly more abundant than at present, or that the author
has confounded the animal with some one of the true
frogs.

The tree-toads, while always at home during the day,
are as active as a hop-toad during the night, and wander
about the home-tree in search of food. Unless disturbed,

330 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

however, they do not, I think, go far away, certainly not
so far that they can not find their way back. I have
long thought that they made one tree their home, and I
know, from observations extending over several sum-
mers, that the same tree-toad will spend the day, the
summer through, in the one spot on the tree. From
April to October, without a miss, except when making
the journey to the nearest water to lay eggs, I have
known a tree-toad, day after day, to stick to one and the
same spot, wherever it might travel through the night.
Of course, such regularity of habit must be coincident with
an abundant food-supply. Let this once become uncer-
tain, and, like sensible toads, they would quickly change
their quarters ; but any change of locality is probably
from necessity, not choice.

I have never been able to find out whether this batra-
chian had any enemies. The snakes that climb trees, as
the black-snakes, do doubtless sometimes make a dinner
upon them ; but our climbing snakes are few, and hence
the inference, that they have less to fear than either the
frogs or toads, though they are by no means so numerous.

There is yet another species of tree-toad, called Pick-
ering's hyla, which is found about here, though it is not
so common. Its place is taken by the little green and
brown batrachian called the cricket-frog, or u peeper."
This species is not a true tree-toad, or hyla, as there is a
little twist in its muscles and a wrinkle in the bones
which the other does not possess ; so, instead of rejoicing
in the pretty scientific name Hyla, we must call it Ily-
lodes, if we speak scientifically ; but to me the little fel-
low is always a " peeper."

One of the cheeriest of the many early spring notes
is the clear, bell-like voice of this little animal. "We hear
it wherever we go, though we do not so often have the

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 331

opportunity of seeing him in the act of "peep "-ing.
One Saturday evening, late in April, 1882, as I was walk-
ing along the bank of a narrow ditch in the neighbor-
ing meadow, I was startled by the shrill " kweep " of a
" peepsr." I say startled, for the sound seemed to come
from directly under my feet, as though I had trodden
upon the little fellow and crushed this one agonized cry
from him. Instantly I stopped, and waited patiently for
several moments. All was silent, until I imitated the
cry as best I could, when immediately the little frog an-
swered me. I knew then that he was not even hurt,
and straightway I began to search for him, as I was very
anxious to see one uttering the shrill note peculiar to
its species. I first stooped ; but failing in this to get a
glimpse of him, I then lay flat upon the damp meadow.
At every change of position the little fellow ceased his
shrill cry ; but a moment's quiet on my part restored his
confidence, and the piercing " kweep " again sounded so
shrilly that I was confident the animal must be within a
foot of my face. Still I failed to find him. Not dis-
couraged, but fearful of rheumatism, I was about to retire,
when I was joined by my son, who took a position near
by and scanned the grass along the ditch-bank, as only
his younger eyes could ; and he soon discovered the lit-
tle hylodes upon the opposite bank of the ditch, much
farther away than I had supposed. We had a full view
of him, as he was clinging to two blades of grass in a
perpendicular position, head up and hips down. The
note or "kweep" was preceded by the formation of an
immense air-sack in the throat. This was as large, I
thought, as the animal itself. As suddenly as it came,
the sack disappeared ; and simultaneously with the col-
lapse came the shrill note I have described. The whole
act was so rapid that I could scarcely follow it, though I

332 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

saw enough at the time to satisfy me that the sound was
produced by the escape of the air that filled the enor-
mous sack at its throat.

During the month of April, 1881, I had an excellent
opportunity for observing these creatures ; and, finding
that but little had been recorded concerning them, I
availed myself of the chance with all the more earnest-
ness, and watched them closely for several weeks.

While a network of ditches in a low meadow were
being repaired, extended, and cleaned, I followed the
workmen closely, for the purpose of gathering any novel-
ties that might be thrown out with the mud and dead
leaves that had accumulated in them. Much of interest
was found ; but the one striking feature of the locality
at this time was ths wonderful abundance of little
" peepers," or, in dignified language, hylodes. They were
in full song, and when not disturbed, made more noise
than all the frogs in the neighborhood. They were
quite timid, however, and, on being approached, were
straightway " mum." Their vocal efforts seemed to in-
crease until the first week in May, when their eggs were
deposited in little masses which were attached to the
blades of rank grass floating on the surface of the water.
I did not succeed in following the various stages of de-
velopmental growth from the egg to the matured animal,
but I was enabled to determine that it was more pro-
tracted than in the common tree-toacl. The difference
is, I am led to think, about six or seven weeks. The tardi-
ness of growth is occasioned by the slow development of
the limbs, which do not, I think, begin to grow until late
in the summer.

From the date of their earliest appearance in spring
in considerable numbers until about the last week in
May the meadows are literally alive with them. Wher-

SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 333

ever the ground is at all wet, they are to be seen as thick
as grasshoppers in August. Extremely active and quite
shy, they are difficult to catch, in case the pursuit is con-
fined to a single individual, but, by sweeping an ordinary
dip-net along the grass at the edge of any little pool,
several are certain to be taken. They feed ravenously
at this time, and, even when confined in very cramped
quarters, they will devour any flies that may come with-
in reach. On the other hand, they appear at this time
to constitute the main food-supply of certain fishes, all
the snakes, some turtles, and a few birds. I found that
all our snakes during April and May were more abun-
dant in the meadows than elsewhere, and there can be
no doubt that they were drawn thither for the purpose
of feeding on these little batrachians. Even that lover
of high, dry, and dusty fields, the hog-nosed snake, was
found at intervals along the banks of the ditches, appar-
ently on the lookout for " peepers," and the dissection
subsequently of one of these snakes proved that it had
fed upon them.

About the middle of May there was a very notice-
able diminution in their numbers, and by the close of the
first week in June not a specimen was to be found.
High and low, up hill and down dale, it mattered not
where I looked, not a trace of an adult hylodes could I
discover. Can it be that their vigor culminates with the
maturity of the ova and spermatozoa, and that, having
spawned, they have no vital 'force remaining, and so, in
the course of a few weeks after ovipositing, they die ? If
this be so, then weeks must elapse without a representa-
tive of this batrachian being in existence, and the race is
preserved in the tadpoles that swarrn in the stagnant
ponds and sluggish ditches. This continues until August,
when these tadpoles become fully developed " peepers."

334 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

In September their numbers greatly increase, and now
they spread over a wider range than they seemed to fre-
quent in April and May. Indeed, in the autumns of 1881
and 1882 I found very few in the meadows, but thousands
were in damp, upland nooks, as, for instance, about the
springs and particularly along a brook where the water
flowed rapidly over a pebbly bed.

Early in October, 1881, I found a number of these
" peepers " in a little ravine, through which a brook
ripples riverward. I noticed at the time that these little
creatures had a decided aversion to the water. Neces-
sary as it was for them to keep their skins moist, they
had no desire to become thoroughly wet, and when by
chance they made an unlucky jump and settled in the
water, they straightway crawled out and took up a high
and dry position on some projecting stone. If in the
sunlight, so much the better. A bath seemed to chill
them, and whenever I drove one into the water, I
found that for several minutes after it emerged I could
pick it up without difficulty ; but in time it would regain
its ordinary activity, and then quick indeed must be the
movements of any one who would catch such an one with
the hand alone.

It was at this time, too, that I gave close attention to
the subject of their color and its changeableness.

While there are certain peculiarities of color that are
persistent and characteristic of the species, these, at times,
become of little prominence, so very great is the differ-
ence in the entire coloration of the animal. Furthermore,
they change their hues with great rapidity, and during
the course of a few moments will pass from an ashy
paleness or clay color to an intense black, with the light
dorsal stripe scarcely visible, or else either of a glowing
red or a brilliant metallic green. So very beautiful are

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 335

these colors, and so different in appearance will any half-
dozen of these animals prove to be, that it is difficult to
realize that they all belong to one and the same species.

Of a series of six which I have long kept in confine-
ment (October 20th to January 2i)th) in a bottle, one
specimen was taken from a ledge of pale yellow clay.
The "peeper" was of the same color, the post-orbital
dark spot and light dorsal line being scarcely discernible.
The uniform yellow tint, however, was relieved by minute
round points of brilliant bronze. This individual, unlike
its companions, did not alter in color for several weeks.
The others were very changeable, and particularly so when
exposed to direct sunlight. While I noted several in-
stances to the contrary, my impression is that usually the
colors pale in direct sunlight, and deepen when the ani-
mals are in deep shade. This certainly is true of those I
have in confinement, and agrees with my experience in
searching for them during the past autumn. One fact
with reference to the subject of their color is not in ac-
cordance, psrhaps, with the above, but should not go un-
recorded. The six individuals which I have in a bottle
will, at times, present very different tints, although all
are subjected to like surroundings. Of the six, two or
three would be very dark, the others pale yellow. "With
some the dark triangular spot between the eyes would be
very distinct, in the case of the others it could not be
detected, even in outline. It must be remembered, how-
ever, that these individuals were kept in most unnatural
conditions, and though, at the time of this writing, they
had been without food for one hundred days, yet they
were as active as squirrels.

Sensitive as these " peepers " are to changes of tem-
perature, it is by no means the first frost that drives them
into their winter quarters. In the autumn of the past

336 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

year (1881) I found them as late as Nov. 12th, and even
later (Dec. 27th) my son found one in the meadows which
was as lively as a cricket. The frogs generally were
singing this day. For more than two weeks prior to
Nov. 12th there had been several white frosts, and the
true frogs (Ranee) had all disappeared except the few that
lingered in the warm waters of the larger springs. Not
so, however, with the " peepers ; " the cozy, sheltered
nooks in the ravine I have mentioned afforded them com-
fortable quarters still, and after a severe rain-storm, which
lasted for three days, I found numerous specimens near
the brook, always in moist places, but not where it would
be called wet. In many instances they were found ad-
hering to the under sides of projecting stones, roots of
trees, and even to large oak -leaves. I find it stated by
De Kay, in his " Natural History of New York," that they
can not retain their hold upon the under sides of project-
ing objects ; that the disks on their toes are not sufficiently
large. This is an error ; indeed, the specimens I have in
a bottle can retain their hold when the bottle is turned
over.

My impression is, that they do not require or partake
of any food during their brief experience as matured
" peepers " in autumn, i. e., from completion of the growth
of their limbs in September to the commencement of
their hibernation. My reason for this is based upon the
fact that the specimens in a bottle, to which I have
referred, were placed in confinement on the 20th of Oc-
tober, 1881, and the date of writing, January 29, 1882,
a period of one hundred days has just elapsed. During
this time these "peepers" have had no food, have been
quite as active as their limited quarters would permit,
and yet have not lost weight to any important extent.
One which I weighed on the day following its capture

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRAGHIANS. 337

weighed forty-four grains, and seventy-five days later had
lost but one grain.

In the spring it is very different ; then they are vora-
cious feeders, and capture millions of insects. At this
time their stomachs are always full, and, while the size of
the animal is not noticeably larger than it was in autumn,
yet the weight is nearly twice as great. Their physiologi-
cal activity apparently culminates with the maturing of
the ova and the labor of depositing and fertilizing it, as
I have already suggested. This effected, these little
" peepers " are worn out, and, as I am forced to believe,
the greater number, at least, soon die.

Going back to the high and dry land, there may be
found a common batrachian — the familiar hop-toad —
about which many errors are rife, and which is therefore
entitled to an extended notice.

It is probable that the absence of all attractiveness
has had much to do with the indifference with which
toads are regarded, and, in justice, it must be admitted
that the toad is superlatively ugly. This, however, should
interest rather than repel the student, since this black and
brown ugliness is an excellent instance of protective col-
oration. So inconspicuous is this toad, when in its ordi-
nary haunts, that it has but to sit still and let its food
come unsuspectingly within reach. Then it is seized, but
so quickly that it takes a sharp eye to follow the move-
ment. Whoever hates flies should love the toad. It
would be hard to determine just how many it will devour
in the course of twenty-four hours, but a fair estimate can
be made. For instance, two summers ago, a lazy, aged
toad took up its quarters by the kitchen-door. A conve-
nient cranny in the brick pavement was its home ; but it
sallied out often, even in broad daylight, to feast upon the

15

338 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

innumerable flies. Once, watch in hand, I timed it, with
the following result : In three minutes it captured twen-
ty-nine flies, supposing that it never missed its aim. The
toad looked like a child's rocking-horse while thus en-
gaged, and no wonder, for once in every six seconds it
leaned forward, shot out its tongue, and then came back
with a flop to its original position. Then out again and
back, and so it kept up for the three minutes. Then a
pause of three or four, during which a new lot of flies
accumulated, and the three-minute job was repeated.
This toad has been a fixture in the kitchen-pavement for
nine years, and, I am happy to add, still lives. Think
kindly of toads, then, all ye who have a horror of flies.

Although a nocturnal animal, the toad is by no means
disposed to remain idle through the day. It is, however,
only after sundown that protracted foraging expeditions
are undertaken, and it is only at that time that it sings !
Why not call it singing ? Frogs " sing," in common parl-
ance, although some ill-natured folk call it grunting, and
the toads certainly have an equal right to have their vocal
efforts similarly named. It is a deep, penetrating, me-
tallic rattle that may be heard a long way off, and, when
one after another repeats the note, it becomes a feature of
the serenade with which our country folk are nightly
favored during the summer months. The frogs get the
credit of the performance with many, but this " mixing"
of different things is not unusual in matters zoological.

One word more. Toads do go to the water to lay
their eggs, and these eggs do not hatch into hoppers, but
into little tadpoles, which have to wait with patience for
their legs to grow. Then these ridiculous miniatures of
their sedate parents come hopping from the ditches in
regiments and brigades, and were it not that very many
of the birds, mammals, and reptiles in the neighborhood

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRAGHIANS. 339

fatten on them, we should soon have a plague of toads.
As it is, we have not half enough.

Every one of the preceding batrachians, ten in num-
ber, have been placed in an " order " called ANURA — that
is, they are tailless. Perhaps this may seem contradic-
tory, for every one had a tail when it was hatched, and
with some this appendage was larger than the whole body.
In time, however, these tails dwindle away, and wonder-
fully well-developed legs appear, and no one, seeing a
frog or toad for the first time, would ever suspect that
once upon a time he sported a tail.

Before completing our cursory glance at the batrachi-
ans we must again return to the haunts of the frogs and
turtles, for there are in these damp nooks and crannies
a whole host of creeping, slimy, and often gayly-painted
creatures, which the ignorant will persist in calling water-
lizards ; and generally a libel, to the effect that they are
poisonous, is added. These animals are collectively known
as salamanders, and may briefly be defined as lizard-
shaped, but with the body naked or without scales. Un-
like the frogs, they have tails — not little stumps, but
long, slender, whip-lash appendages — that wiggle as the
creature runs, and are of no earthly use whatever, and
probably never were. Indeed, snakes and turtles nip
them off very frequently, and the salamander seems to
thrive all the better for it. Indeed, so much are they
benefited by the operation, that a race of tailless sala-
manders ought long since to have been Darwinized into
existence. However, it has not been done, and, though
the tails are of no known use, yet the salamanders will
persist in cultivating the useless appendage.

There is a strong family likeness running through the
list of these animals, which may number ten species in

340 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

this neighborhood, although I am not certain of the iden-
tity of more than four. Externally they vary in color
and in the length of the tail, and, if we could only classify
them accordingly, the difficulty would end ; but my friend,
Professor Cope, has assured us that some are opisthocoe-
lian, and others amphicrelian. Think of that, and fail to
pity the poor salamanders, if you can. Then some have
ossified tarsi and carpi, while in others these are cartilagi-
nous. It is bewildering to contemplate, but in spite of it
all the salamanders keep up their courage, and wriggle
and twist, swim and dive, catch flies and sing songs, just as
though these terrible things had never been said about
them.

In my rambles about home I have found four well-
marked species of these salamanders in abundance. One
is quite terrestrial, being content with moderately damp
ground. Two others may be considered as " on the
fence," it being uncertain whether wet land or running
water suits them better, while the fourth is strictly
aquatic.

The first of these, and that which is strictly an aquatic
salamander, is the pretty spotted triton. This little creat-
ure is as much at home in the ponds and deeper ditches
as any fish, and is far handsomer. It is green above and
yellow beneath, and its sides are decorated with vermilion
spots, each one of which is margined by a black ring.
Not even the sunfish can boast a greater wealth of color.

In its habits it is both frog- and fish-like. Early in
the spring it comes from its winter-quarters, which I could
never discover, and swimming in and out among the
bunches of floating dead grass, or haunting such hardier
growths as have not been winter-killed, it occasionally
lifts the tip of its nose just above the surface of the

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 341

water, and gives a clear, metallic "peep." This is not so
loud as that of an hylodes, or " peeper," though resem-
bling it in other respects, nor is it so frequently repeated.
Indeed, I have always considered it quite an event to de-
tect a triton in the act of " peeping," and I should not
have suspected their vocal powers if I had not heard one
" give voice " in the aquarium, where it had been confined
for many months.

Like all our frogs, these salamanders lay "bunches"
of eggs, which are attached to floating blades of grass.
These are soon hatched, and then the young shift for
themselves. Like all such young fry, however, they run
but little chance of ever reaching maturity, for the mud-
minnows, young turtles, and, in fact, every creature larger
than themselves, inhabiting the same pond, gobble them
up most unceremoniously.

I am compelled to write thus briefly about them, for,
while I have seen both the eggs and very young tritons,
I have never watched the process by which the former
develops into the latter. This is yearly postponed, on
account of a press of other novelties, and now I can
only hope to induce some one else to undertake the
task.

De Kay tells us that this salamander is capable of
withstanding a low temperature, and thereby gives ground
for the inference that other salamanders can not. This,
I think, is not true, as they all can bear a considerable
degree of cold, and even when frozen they have been
known to recover promptly if thawed out very gradually.
While hibernation is, I doubt not, a habit common to
them all, it is certain that during what are called "open
winters " they retain their wonted activity from Novem-
ber to March, and this, too, without food of any kind.
Whether they live on their fat, or whether there is some

34:2 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

arrest of the natural decay of tissue, I can not say ; but I
have often, during winter, found our semi-aquatic sala-
manders in warm spots, possessed of their usual activity,
and yet in localities which I supposed to be destitute at
the time of any food-supply. My efforts to determine,
by dissection, the contents of their stomachs during win-
ter were not satisfactory, and I had to content myself
with the fact that if there were any food in their stomachs
it was in very minute quantities.

A second species of these creatures, remarkable for its
activity and strength, is the dusky salamander. To find
it we must leave the muddy ditches and grass grown
ponds wherein the triton delights, and seek some babbling
brook with plenty of big stones in its bed. Under these
we are pretty sure to find this dusky species. When dis-
turbed, away it goes with a jump and a wriggle, but not
for any distance. The nearest hiding-place is sure to be
its goal ; and so, with a little care, they are easily followed,
and the slimy creatures may be captured with comparative
ease. Small though they be, their strength is considerable,
and, before we realize the fact, a captured u dusky" will
pry open your closed fingers and be off. Often I have
lost an old fellow in just this way, being unable to realize
in time what the creature was about.

Common as they are, I have never found their eggs,
to my knowledge, but suppose that they are placed in
localities like dripping moss or soaked leaves, that are
constantly wet, and not in the running water. The young
retain their external gills longer than do any of the other
species found here. I had supposed that it was only for
a year, but, according to Professor Verrill, two years must
elapse before they acquire the breathing-apparatus of
adult life.

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 343

More strictly terrestrial than the preceding is a third
common salamander, which I find exceedingly abundant
at times, and then a season passes when it is quite scarce.
This is the red-backed salamander. The surest place to
gather these is under the platform of the pump. !No
doubt now and then they plunge headlong down into
the well ; but, as they are not brought up mangled by the
valve or the bucket, why should we care ? I know they
are about the pump, and suppose they are in the water we
drink ; but this is not a disturbing fact. I remember that
the best springs always harbor frogs ; so why not this non-
jumping, tailed frog, for such it is. Under a board, if it
be lying on moist earth, the " red-backs " love to linger.
What they find to eat under there has often puzzled me,
as I never could see any other living creature of which
the salamanders could make a meal. There did not ap-
pear to be any trace of minute insects, and yet these
salamanders thrive the while. To solve this question, I tried
an experiment, but with only negative results. Finding
a small colony of the salamanders under a plank near the
pump, I waited until dark, and then, by the aid of a
bull's-eye lantern, found that when all was quiet they
came out from their diurnal quarters and foraged in a
very systematic manner. They scampered about as rest-
lessly as scuttle-bugs, and I suppose were hunting for in-
sects. When I caused the light from the lantern to fall
directly upon them, they at once started for the plank
from under which they had come. I did not, of course,
see one of them catch an insect, but it was evident that
they are nocturnal, and, being so, they must habitually
feed at night, although they do not scorn a bit of lunch-
eon, even if it happens to be offered during the day.

With us the red-backed salamander lays its eggs first
in June and then again in August. They are placed

344 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

under wet moss and leaves, and likewise under the plat-
form of the pump. In a very few days the eggs are
hatched, and, unlike the young " duskies," the external
gills commence to dwindle as soon as they are fairly in
working order, and in three or four days not a vestige of
them is seen.

The fourth common species, met with almost daily
throughout the summer, is the beautiful pink, rosy, or
red salamander. These are of all shades of red, and even
when very old are purple. I have sometimes thought
they had better be called the " inquisitive triton." When-
ever the hydraulic ram, that formerly was our sole de-
pendence for water, ceased to furnish us with the desired
supply, I found a red salamander under the plunger.
During the earlier years of my acquaintance with the
pretty triton I never ceased to admire it ; but of late my
tastes have changed. Even in midwinter, and after sun-
down, by the light of a smoky lantern I have too often
had to visit the troubled water-ram, and found my former
friend, the red salamander, under the plunger. One win-
ter, and that a hard one, satisfied me that these tritons
are essentially inquisitive. There were individuals of
other species roaming around at the time, and scores of
more sensible ones, that took a long winter's nap, but
never one of them disturbed the ram except these over-
grown red fellows.

I think it can scarcely be doubted that all of our sala-
manders have voices. I have already mentioned the
" peep " of the newt, or spotted triton. This large red
salamander also has a clear, bell-like note, which, though
frequently heard, is not usually recognized. It is a true
hylodes note, and is often attributed to the little Savan-
nah cricket, or "peeper," already described. They call,

SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 345

whistle, or give tongue, as you choose to express it, only
in spring, and at the time when the females are deposit-
ing their ova. This, at least, is my impression.

There are yet others of this family that have been
" collected " in the neighborhood ; but here my knowl-
edge ends. They were here, and now are — in alcohol.
This seemed to satisfy those who were fortunate enough
to find them ; but of the value of such facts I have noth-
ing to say.

The Intelligence of BatracJiians.

In his recent volume on animal intelligence,* Mr.
Romanes devotes less than two pages to the intelligence
of batrachians. He remarks: "On the intelligence of
frogs and toads very little has to be said." That our
author should have included toads in the above seems
strange, as instances of cunning and proofs of the general
intelligence of these animals are numerous. In conver-
sation with practical observers of animal life, I have
never yet found one that did not accord a marked degree
of intelligence to toads. In short, they may readily be
tamed, will come when called, and have been seen to
place matter attractive to flies, their principal food, near
their hiding-places, so they could remain at home and
at the same time be sure of a sufficiency of food. This
evidence of foresight on the part of toads is no uncom-
mon occurrence, and quite effectually establishes their
claim to a creditable degree of intelligence.

Of the spade-foot or hermit-toad (Scaphlopus solita-
rius) and the tree-toad (ITyla versicolor) I have but little
to record. The former is but rarely seen, and I have had
no opportunity to experiment with it with a view to test-

* "Animal Intelligence." By George J. Ro:nanes. (Internat. Sc. Series,
No. xliv.) New York, D. Appleton & Co.

RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ing its mental capabilities. The habits of the animal, as
described by Agassiz and Putnam, would lead one to con-
clude that intellectually they are to be classed with the
common toad. The tree-toad, or Hyla, being crepuscu-
lar in habits, was found difficult to study, and nothing
was determined that bore upon the question of its intel-
lectual capacity. I can but state my impression, which
is, that they are not so cunning as the common toad.

On the other hand, I am pained to confess that my
many observations and experiments with the several spe-
cies of true frosjs found here, conducted without an inter-

O '

mission for four months, have yielded but little evidence
that these creatures possess a particle of intelligence. It
almost proved, indeed, to be labor lost —
To perch upon a slippery log,
And sit in judgment on a frog.

Mr. Romanes remarks that, if frogs are removed to a
long distance from water, they will take the shortest route
to the nearest pool or brook. Even this, I find, is only
usually true. Quite ten per cent of such " removed"
frogs started off, when released, in the direction of the
most distant water, rather than that which was nearest.
One of my many experiments was as follows : I placed a
pail filled with water in a dry, dusty field, burying it to
the brim. It was protected by a cap of coarse wire siev-
ing. I then liberated a frog within twenty yards of it.
It hopped in the opposite direction toward water nearly
three hundred yards distant. I then placed a frog on
the opposite side of the buried pail, so that the distant
brook could only be approached by passing near or directly
over it, if the frog took a direct course. This the frog
did, and less than a score of leaps brought it to the water
covered by the sieve. It seemed quite satisfied with the
fact that a little water was in sight, although out of reach.

SHORT STUDIES OF BATEACHIANS. 347

Here the frog remained until morning. The following
day I removed the pail, and buried it within fifty yards
of a running brook. I then took seven frogs of three
species and placed them upon the sieve, which was about
half an inch above the surface of the water. Here five
of them remained during the whole day, exposed to the
glare and heat of a cloudless midsummer day. The
evaporation from the water beneath them barely kept
them alive ; and yet within so short a distance was a run-
ning brook, with all the attractive features of ideal frog-
life.

I repeated this experiment, with slight modifications,
several times, and always with essentially the same re-
sults.

Hoping to find that in the pursuit of prey, which is
principally insects, frogs would display some intelligence,
I tried several experiments to test their ingenuity ; but it
was of no avail. Unless the food could be easily reached
by making the simple exertion of a single leap, the frogs
would go hungry. Subsequently I placed a large fly
upon a piece of thin mica, and surrounded it with a circle
of fine needles, piercing the plate. The fly thus pro-
tected could only be seized by the frog suffering a severe
pricking of the jaws. This, I found, a frog would suffer
indefinitely, in its attempts to secure the fly. In one in-
stance, the frog, which had been fasting for seventy-two
hours, continued to snap at the needle-protected fly until
it had entirely skinned its upper jaw. I concluded from
this that the wits of a frog were too limited to be demon-
strated.

Some weeks after having completed these experi-
ments, I had the good fortune to capture two fully
grown specimens of the bull- frog (Rana Catesbyand) ;
and, noticing their enormously distended sides, I exam-

348 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ined the stomach-contents of the two. In one was a
full-grown chipmunk (Tamias striatd) ; in the other, a
garter-snake (Eutania sirtalis) measuring eighteen inches
in length, and also a field-mouse (Arvicola riparia). On
close examination I found that the snake had partially
swallowed the mouse ; and, while thus helpless, the frog
had evidently attacked the snake, and swallowed it.

It is evident, I think, that the frog recognized the
helpless condition of the snake at the time, and took ad-
vantage of it. If so, it is evidence of a degree of intelli-
gence on the part of the animal which the results of my
experiments with these creatures generally had not led
me to expect. Certainly a frog, however large, will not
attack even a small snake if it is possessed of its usual
activity.

A wood-frog that I have now had for several months
in a Wardian case shows, however, that the character of
its accustomed haunts has necessitated the exercise of
ingenuity to secure its food, and therefore its intelligence
has increased beyond that of its aquatic cousins.

I have frequently noticed, when I placed flies in the
case, that the wood-frog singled out one, and approached
it in a very stealthy manner, squatting closely to the
moss, hiding behind ferns and dragging itself along,
until it had reached a position suitable for making a cuc-
cessful leap. If the fly moved, the frog would alter its
position accordingly, and follow up the chase with great
patience and unquestionable skill. At times it would
happen that some one of the smaller batrachians kept in
the case snapped up the coveted prize, when the disgust
of the wood-frog would be plainly shown by his manner ;
but such an occurrence never led to a quarrel.

The aquatic frogs do not pursue their prey with any-
thing like the same persistency and skill, even when they

SHORT STUDIES OF BATRACHIANS. 349

undertake it at all, and I am led to believe that the intelli-
gence of the wood-frog has been increased by its terres-
trial environment, and that it should be ranked with the
common toad, which has already been shown to possess
much cunning. In other words, the wood-frog has been
forced to search for its food to a greater degree than the
aquatic species have been, and hunger is probably the
most effective stimulus to the growth of intelligence.

The salamanders, in the same way, by their active
movements, wandering disposition, quickness of hearing,
and other minor characteristics, give evidence of greater
intelligence than that possessed by frogs. This I can
state of them, however, as but little more than an impres-
sion ; for my efforts to prove them possessed of much
cunning were not successful. The purple salamander, it
is true, fights when captured, curving its back and snap-
ping viciously. This no frog ever does. The common
spotted triton (Diemyctdus) becomes quite tame when
kept in an aquarium, and, as I found, is soon able to de-
termine the difference between a fly held against the
glass and one held over the water. I frequently held a
fly against the glass and very near the triton ; bat it
took no notice of it, after one or two efforts to seize it,
but would follow my hand, and, when the fly was held
over the surface of the water, the triton promptly leaped
at and seized it. This is, indeed, but meager proof of
intelligence, but seems to show, I think, that a salaman-
der is more cunning than the generality of frogs, but not
the equal of the common toad.

My observations lead me to conclude that the habits
of an animal have much, if not all, to do with the intel-
lectual capacity it possesses. Frogs, as a class, are not
migratory. They frequent a given pond or stream, and,
sustained by the insect-life that comes to them, but is not

350 RAMBLES ABOUT HONE.

sought, they pass an eventless life, trusting, as it were, to
luck. Such an existence requires no intellectual exertion,
and none is made. The salamanders, on the contrary, are
far more wandering and active. They appear to be ever
in search of food, and, when lying in wait for it, choose
such positions as experience has taught them are best
adapted for the purpose : at least, my studies of such
specimens as I have kept in confinement lead me to be-
lieve so. Intellectually, therefore, the salamanders are in
advance of most frogs; but the batrachians as a class,
although higher in the scale of life than fishes, are, I be-
lieve, inferior to them in intelligence.

CHAPTER XXXIY.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES.

IN front of my house, with only a pleasant stretch of
meadow intervening, flows the Delaware. To my right,
as I stand in the doorway facing the river, I can see, here
and there, between tall birches and bending elms, a little
silvery gleam that marks the course of a sluggish, lily-
choked stream which creeps slowly westward from the
foot of the terrace to the river. It is too insignificant a
stream to merit the attention of the geographer, though
it is worthy of a more than passing notice from the natu-
ralist. Its source is in a series of little springs that come
bubbling from the foot of the terrace or "hill" near by.
Gathering volume as it wends its way riverward, it soon
makes for itself a well-defined channel and glides slowly
through a stately growth of reeds that are haunted by the
king-rail and the little sora, the swamp-sparrow and the
marsh-wrens. Beyond, the silvery birches and drooping
elms shade its course and offer a safe retreat to the many
herons that find a refuge there by day ; and, in the gar-
landed month of May, I know of no spot in which the
fresh foliage that then decks these beautiful trees more
delights the northward-bound warblers or so tempts them
to tarry in its shade. Still moving onward, the little
river enters a denser growth and widens into a deep,
dark, weedy pond, which is still so wild, retired, and
tempting, that the wary wild-duck does not hesitate to

352 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

visit it, while the fish-hawk loves it well; the stately
herons wade along its muddy shores, and the mink, musk-
rat, and otter still make it their home.

Still standing in my doorway, and looking to the left,
I can trace, by the dense growth of forest-trees, a nobler
stream, which comes from the distant " pines," and, after
a tortuous course of many miles, is also finally lost in the
greater volume of the seaward-flowing Delaware. Here
we have a total change in almost every feature of the
landscape. The swelling tide reverses the current of the
stream for several miles, checking the growth of lilies,
dock, and pond-weed. Being without obstruction on one
side, the creek overflows the level reach of marshy mead-
ow that scarcely defines the channel. On the opposite
bank is the steep, winding terrace that here turns to meet
the Delaware.

In these three streams the conditions are so different
that we might well expect to find many fishes of many
kinds. "We are not, however, confined to these three
streams alone, as there are scores of connecting ditches,
and many spring- fed ponds, wherein the golden sunfish
and the silvery minnow love to linger.

In all these places, whether river, creek, pond, or
ditch, there are many fishes, both great and small. Let
us, then, go fishing — fishing, not for the purpose of catch-
ing them, but of studying them. Many difficulties will
beset us in this pursuit ; but we are not without means of
overcoming them, an unlimited amount of patience being
the prime necessity.

The principal drawback to the study of the habits of
fishes is, of course, our inability, under ordinary circum-
stances, to watch them in any large body of water, or in
streams that have a rapid current. The most that we can
do is to see them swim past and note the simple fact of

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 353

their presence. By the aid of aquaria we have been able
to remedy this difficulty to some extent ; but still, if the
habits of even our commonest fishes are to be thoroughly
known, wTe must patiently pass hours by the water-side,
and exercise our ingenuity in every way to determine
what is going on in the depths below. One simple way
of doing this, practicable at least in quiet ponds, is to
insert a silvered tube, with a flaring or trumpet mouth
protected by a glass disk, into the bottom of a boat or
raft, and then lying down, to cover yourself with a blan-
ket in order to exclude the light, and so quietly float
along, looking through the submerged tube into the
depths below. By this means you can see objects at
great depths, especially if the sun be shining.

I was led to try this plan, because I had read, in Hen-
ry's "Travels in Canada," that in practically the same
manner the Indians of that country determined the
whereabouts of the large trout in winter, and speared
them through holes cut in the ice. This author says :
" In order to spear trout under the ice, holes being first
cut of two yards in circumference, cabins of about two
feet in height are built over them of small branches of
trees, and these are further covered with skins, so as
wholly to exclude the light. The design and result of
this contrivance is to render it practicable to discern ob-
jects in the water at a very considerable depth. ... So
completely do the rays of light pervade the element, that
in three-fathom water I have often seen the shadows of
the fish on the bottom following them as they moved,
and this when the ice itself was two feet in thickness."

In the way that I have mentioned, years ago, I famil-
iarized myself with the every-day life of all our commoner
fishes ; saw what food they ate and how they procured it ;
learned what were their enemies and how thev avoided

354 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

them ; found out what fishes were sociable and which
were solitary ; saw abundant evidence, in short, of their
possessing a sense of pleasure, of fear, cunning, and mem-
ory; and with these faculties, even if exercised in the
most primitive manner, what may we not expect of fishes
when, without exciting their suspicion, we follow them
patiently hour after hour ?

In looking over the most recent faunal lists of this
portion of the country, I find that the Delaware and its
tributaries are credited with between fifty and sixty
species of fishes. Some of them I know nothing about,
albeit in one instance I am quoted as the authority for
the presence in the Delaware of one such little fish.
What there is in the books that more interests me is the
fact that, of the fishes enumerated, forty-nine are found
within the range of my quiet rambles about home. Of
all that frequent these waters, forty-nine I am sure have
names ; and as there may possibly be others without names,
I am always on the lookout for them, and also for those
that may have wandered beyond the habitat assigned
them by the systernatists. Much of our zoological litera-
ture is, in this respect, somewhat amusing. By a precon-
ceived notion of what should be the geographical distribu-
tion of our fishes, and other animals as well, these " syste-
matic " writers gravely assert that in such a river such a fish
is found, but that it never wanders either to the eastward
or westward. Perhaps originally this was true of our
rivers, as the river itself determined the range of specific
variation that has ultimately come about ; but no river
could retain all the species that originated in it. There
are too many possible ways by which fish can be safely
transported long distances, for us to assert that none of
them have operated in stocking a neighboring stream with
species not native and to the manner born. There is

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 355

undoubted evidence on record of whirlwinds gathering
up immense numbers of minute tish and landing them
safely miles and miles away. These showers of fishes,
frogs, and even salamanders, are not unknown, even if they
are uncommon ; and strange would it be if all such wind-
transported species should fall upon dry ground, and
never into the water. Fertilized eggs, too, can likewise
be blown a long distance, even over low ranges of hills
which sometimes separate river valleys, and so give rise
to a race of fishes that previously were unknown in the
locality. Eggs, too, might readily adhere to the mud
that often clings to the feet of wading birds, and would
thus be gently replaced in a distant river, miles away from
that in which they were deposited by the parent fish.
The present extensive system of canals, also, has tended
to mingle the ichthyic faunas of our various river sys-
tems. And when all these possible, probable, and actual
conditions are considered, it need excite no wonder if in
any one of our rivers or its tributaries we now find occa-
sional individuals of unsuspected species.

In taking up the consideration of our several fishes
separately, it will be well to follow some definite method,
and therefore I shall treat them in the order in which
they are named in the later systems. The one which heads
the list, in a little hand-book by my side — Jordan's " Man-
ual of Vertebrates" — is the "hog-n'sh" ; and it is of this
that I will first speak. Why it is so called I can not say,
as it surely has neither the habits nor the appearance of
any hog that I have ever seen. It belongs to a family of
most curious fishes, known collectively as li darters," or
etheostomoids, and I prefer to call this one the " sand-
perch." These " darters" have been well described as pre-
ferring " clear, running water, where they lie on the bot-

356 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

torn concealed under stones (not always), darting, when
frightened or hungry, with great velocity for a short dis-
tance by a powerful movement of the fan-shaped pectoral
iins, then stopping as suddenly .... All are carnivorous,
and, in their way, voracious."

There are several species of these darters found in
oar streams. Of this I am well convinced ; but I have
not so surely identified more than two. Of these, the
larger is the sand-perch. To find it, we must hunt some
little bed of clean sand among the rocks of the river, and
sharp eyes will be required to detect it, even when we
are sure of its whereabouts. Here, resting on the sand, it
remains "stock still," and one would almost think it
dead; but let a shadow pass over it even, or a baby
crayfish dare to come near, and, like a flash of light, both
fish and little crustacean have disappeared. Often, when
fishing for perch, I have leaned over the side of the boat,
and, scanning closely every square inch of sand, have final-
ly caught a glimpse of a sand-perch. The perch proper
would be for the time forgotten, and the little etheosto-
moid, or darter, command all my attention. No matter if
the sun did burn my neck, or the larger fish were biting
eagerly : the chance was too good to lose, and down into
the depths I would gaze while the little fish remained.
If nothing eatable came by, the darter would be content
to remain idle ; but this does not long continue, for sooner
or later some little speck, one could not tell what, would
float by, and with a jerk, jump, twist, and wiggle, that
speck had gone — so, too, the darter. This indeed about
covers my knowledge of its habits — at least, so far as I
have seen it in the river, for I know nothing as to where
and when it lays its eggs. Under different and some-
what peculiar circumstances, however, I have several times
met with this little darter, and these instances merit a

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 357

moment's notice. With the incoming tide that makes up
Crosswicks Creek, a score or more of these darters will
often stray into each of the little depressions in the
adjoining meadows which are slowly covered by the
steadily increasing volume of water. These depressions
are the faint channels through which the last ripples of
tho receding waters retire, and are often irregular from
the little sand-ridges which the currents and cross-trick-
lings form, and also are often dotted with regular, cup-
shaped holes where the cows have chanced to pass over
the wet sand. At high tide all is serene, and the hungry
darters gayly pass to "fresh fields and pastures new,"
confident of a goodly feast on the myriad insects that the
encroaching waters have entrapped. But soon a change
comes over the spirit of their realities — for, if fishes do
not sleep, they can not dream — and all unheeding of the
fickleness of the tide, they soon find themselves left, not
high and dry indeed, but in the little treacherous holes
and hollows in the sand and short grass from which the
waters crept so stealthily that their suspicion was never
aroused. Slowly, too, this lingering water is sinking away
in the loose sand, and the burning sun above makes them
all the more uncomfortable. " What shall I do ? " each
and every one asks, not in so many words, but by so
many acts. Around the little shadow of a pond they
jerkily crawl, but find no watery outlet. Then, as they
quietly contemplate their fix, they find themselves, not
short of breath, but of water, and, willing to trust to luck,
they give a mighty jump, knowing that they can get
in no worse position on the other side of the pitiless
ridge of sand that surrounds them. Do they see the re-
ceding waters in the distance, as they leap over the sandy
ridges and from hollow to hollow, or do they smell the
water or hear it flow ? At all events, they jump gener-

358 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ally creekward, and soon find larger pools, and then still
larger, until again they can swim, and away they scatter
over the sandy bed of the beautiful creek that has served
them such a trick.

The sand-perch can not always escape as easily as I
have described. The birds have learned at last to know
of the mishap that so often occurs to them, and the pur-
ple grakles, the red-winged blackbirds, the little bittern,
and the fish-crows do not fail to hasten to the bared
sands as the tide goes down, and cut short the career of
these little fish while on their forced overland journeys.

Most curious of all, however, is the means adopted by
some of the fish to escape the inconvenience caused by the
treacherous tide and the attacks of the birds to which
they are at the same time subjected. With a desperate
wriggle they will displace a portion of sand, and burrow
so far downward that they reach a spot sufficiently moist
to sustain life, although without a drop of accessible free
water. Here, patiently or impatiently, one can scarcely
say which, they await the return of good times, of in-
creasing waters, of jolly high tide. Perhaps they are
not to be caught thus a second time, though it is pos-
sible that they may be ; and, if so, why is not an occurrence
like this the starting-point in a change of habits which
will ultimately result in accustoming them to mud and
sand, like the mud-minnow (of which more anon) ?

The other darter, or sand-perch, common to these
waters is a smaller fish, so small that its presence is often
unsuspected. Like its cousin, the " hog-fish," it can not
swim more than three or four u strokes " before it has
either to come to a standstill, or at any rate put " one
foot on bottom," as boys do when learning the same art.

While not averse to trying its fortune even in the river,
this little fish — Olmsted's darter — wanders indefinitely

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 359

up-stream, and no puddle is too small for him, provided
it always holds water. They have no more fancy for a
sun-bath than the preceding. Where I have found
them in greatest abundance, is in a little shallow just off
the main channel of the smaller creek I have mentioned
in a foregoing page. There is here a muddy bottom,
with a thin superstratum of fine sand upon it. No per-
ceptible current flows over it, and the little darters, faint-
ly marking the sand whenever they come to a rest, can
be tracked by these little impressions. Here I have seen
hundreds of them quietly resting on their leg-like fins
and waiting, not for something to turn up, but to come
near, when they are up and at it. They do not, how-
ever, depend on such a slim chance for a sufficiency of
food, as they are as carnivorous as crocodiles and have
the digestion of an ostrich. Their predilection for these
quiet, watery by-ways seems to be brought about by the
habits of other animals, which, bringing their food to
these retreats to enjoy it at leisure, always leave innu-
merable fragments for the benefit of the darters. In-
deed, these fish do not wait always for the crumbs that
may fall from some mightier creature's table, as I have
often seen them crowd around some happy turtle that
had brought a fish or fragment of flesh to this shallow in
order to dine in peace. The little darters, however, did
not wait to be invited, but, standing at the other end of
the fish or flesh, would give it little tugs and nips while
the turtle was busily engaged in biting off larger mouth-
fuls. These darters are the most persistent egg-hunters
anywhere to be found, and, in spite of the vigilance of
the parent fish, will dart in and out and swallow the eggs
that have been laid and placed with so much care. Many
fishes so place their eggs that they are not accessible to
the darters ; but when laid in the sand, as the sunfish do,

360 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

or among loose pebbles only, the darters can readily find
them, and they quickly devour all they discover. Were
it not for this unfortunate habit, these little fish would
merit our kindly consideration, as they help, to a certain
extent, in keeping pure the waters of the streams they
frequent.

I have said there are but two kinds of darters in
our waters. I meant but two of whose identification I
was sure. There is, or was, a third. Some years ago,
in a pretty stream, which my neighbors persist in calling
the " Ten-foot Ditch," I found a few crimson-marked
specimens, that were wholly unlike the others, playing
on and in silvery white sand. The following autumn
the crimson markings had become dull brown, but
the little cylindrical bodies were of the same shape,
and the ridiculous efforts of the little fishes at natatorial
locomotion were just as absurd. A few of these I bot-
tled, and they were pronounced to be the Hololepis ero-
chrous. I was glad to find they had a name; but since
then, ten years ago, I have been too busy to use it, and
find that " crimson darter " meets all my needs.

Passing on, in two ways, to a new page of the faunal
list and to deep waters, we come at once to what has
always seemed, and really is, a model fish. It is com-
plete in every feature, and there is nothing flabby about
it, like a sucker or roach ; nor is it out of date and clumsy,
like a gar-pike. I mean the yellow perch.

So far as I have been able to follow it, this fish re-
mains throughout its first year, and often for many years,
in the stream in which it was hatched. Of course, where
it happens that the ova has been deposited in some little
out-of-the-way brook which grows smaller as the summer
passes, then the young perch will find their way into
deeper and cooler waters ; but they do not wander far

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 361

from their birth-place. For instance, many perch leave
the Delaware, and, seeking out suitable localities in the
tributaries that have an uninterrupted outlet, deposit
their ova in such smaller streams.

This perch, then, may be said to be a strictly resident
species. There is not a month in the year, or week in
any month, when they may not be found. Not always
are they so evidently abundant as in spring and summer ;
but they have not wandered far, and only a little closer
search is needed to spy them out. If we go a-fishing
only in the river, the impression of the rarity of yellow
perch will soon become fixed in the mind ; but this arises
not so much from the actual scarcity, as from the fact
that they do not bite at a hook as readily as when in the
still waters of our ponds. The nets, however, tell the
story, and prove that they are in the river, and abundant-
ly too, in spite of the firm belief of the line-fisher that
" there are no yellow perch in the river." When it comes
to comparing perch with sunfish, on the other hand, it is
evident that, however abundant relatively they are in any
of the neighboring streams, they are far outnumbered by
these less desirable percoids.

What the maximum size of a yellow perch may be is
as yet undetermined. I never have seen a monster
among them, but my neighbors report a supermonstrous
one, and so I leave the question open. I have knowledge
of one caught in the Delaware that weighed four pounds
and a quarter. This I mentioned once in the fish-market ;
but the old gray-beards there sniffed contemptuously, and
told marvelous tales of the wonderful size of the perch
they had caught. Such fish, however, never get to mar-
ket, and the tales need not be repeated.

The yellow perch appears to be equally at home in
very different localities. As a still-water pond fish, if

362 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

there is a fair supply of spring water, they thrive excel-
lently ; but the largest specimens I have ever seen were
either from the river or from the outlets of the larger in-
flowing creeks. Occasionally they have been found in
very shallow waters ; but the attraction was very evident :
they were following up the millions of small minnows
which frequent all the smaller brooks. Indeed, with all
our perches it is the story of the blue-fish and moss-
bunkers of our sea-coast over again. They chase the small
fish upon which they feed even to such shallow waters
that they are themselves occasionally entrapped. If not
feeding, then deep water is preferred, and often I have
seen numbers of them resting apparently upon the bed
of the stream, side by side, and all with their heads up-
stream, just as, in August, one may see often a closely-
packed mass of crimson red-fins in a deep pool of some
rapidly flowing brook. Still, as such scenes are not com-
mon among the perch the year through, perhaps they can
best be described as a semi-social fish. "Without going
in schools, as do the herrings, they are usually found to-
gether in considerable numbers, though this association
perhaps results rather from the attractiveness of the lo-
cality than from any pleasure in associating with their
own kind. This is one of those impressions that a close
observer will sometimes get without being able to adduce
any evidence of the fact. At all times these perch free-
ly associate with other percoids in the same manner as
with individuals of their own kind. Thus a single yel-
low perch will often be found with a school of white
perch or of rock-fish, or there may be a mixed company
of the three kinds in very unequal numbers.

As the pursuit of food is the one prominent object of
their restless lives, of course all the fishes of a given
pond or stream, having like habits, will be brought close-

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 363

]y together. While we find that hawks of different kinds
will often quarrel when chance brings them together, and
the same may be said of carnivorous mammals, it does
not appear that this is the case among fishes. I have
never seen anything on the part of any of our perches
that indicated anger, and certainly never saw a u fight
going on " among them. Fish generally are very playful ;
but this never ends in a row, so far as I have seen.

A far more interesting fish than the preceding, be-
cause there is a mystery about its breeding habits, is the
rock-fish, striped bass, and "streaked snapper," as this
percoid is variously called. For years I thought I knew
this fish thoroughly, but it seems not — at least, so far as
being able to say when and where it breeds ; but of this
hereafter.

Nearly two centuries ago Gabriel Thomas mentions
Hock among our fishes as one of the goodly sorts that ac-
quired great size. This is true of them still ; but it is
not common now to find them weighing twenty pounds or
more. It is accounted now good fishing to catch many
weighing twenty ounces. Even longer ago, one Mahlon
Stacy, who settled the spot now called Trenton, recorded
his fishing experiences, and, in the course of that account,
he says : " We have great plenty of most sorts of fish that
ever I saw in England, besides several others that are not
known there, as rocks, cat-fish, shads, sheep's-heads, and
sturgeon." This is the earliest reference to the fish in
the Delaware that I can find.

At present the rock-fish is found not only in the river,
but in such inflowing creeks as have water sufficient for it
to swim. "When very young it delights in wandering
into little streams to catch the myriads of small min-
nows that congregate in the eddies of every brook.

364: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Just as the larger fish feed upon shiners in the river, " at
the turn of the tide," so too do little rock-fish, scarcely
two inches in length, gather about still smaller shiners,
and capture them as dexterously, and devour them as
voraciously, as ever did an adult fish. Prior to the erec-
tion of the dam near the mouth of the Assunpink Creek,
at Trenton, the rock-fish ascended this creek, as I found
bones of this fish in considerable quantity in an Indian
shell-heap three miles above the outlet. It still passes
up Crosswicks Creek in large numbers, entering it at
Bordentown, and going as far as the dam at Groveville ;
and if I were not assured of the contrary, I would say
that these rock-fish spawned in this creek. It seems,
however, that such is not the case. In the course of a
day's ramble, March 2, 1879, I met with an experienced
fisherman, and questioned him closely about these fish.
Here are his words, taken down while he was talking :

" The young rock fish are very common, from one to
three inches long, in shallow water along the river shore,
where they swim about with little minnies, on which
they keep a-feedin', sometimes eatin' a fish as big as
themselves.

" The old rock-fish keep goin' up the river from early
spring until late in summer, and in October and Novem-
ber, accordin' as it is a late or early fall, come down the
river in large numbers. In winter, or very early in spring,
they are often found in deep holes in ' gangs.' In a
hole near Newbold's Island, with one drag of a net in a
deep hole, one hundred and fifty weight were taken,
rangin' from five to seventeen pounds weight. I never
saw a rock-fish with roe in it, as I remember, but young
ones are common so small that I'd a supposed they were
hatched here in the river. Perhaps they go down to the
bay, and the young come up from there, like as we see

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 365

the young eels a-doin' in spring, when the stones are
black with 'em often."

This is what I got from a professional fisherman, who,
to again use his words, " had fished these waters about
here for just fifty-seven years come next summer."

I had based my impression, that the rock-fish bred " in
these waters," solely on the evidence of young, apparently
too feeble to have come from such a distance — fully one
hundred miles ; but it seems they did come from some-
where down the river. At all events, they get into tide-
water creeks very early in life, and, as the old fisherman
told me and I have myself noticed, they remain here
pretty much the year round. Still, we can not call them
resident species in the sense of non-migratory fishes.
This they are not. Possibly no one individual remains
very long in one locality, but no sooner does one depart,
than another takes its place. Like the robins among our
birds, they are restless and wandering, but not method-
ically migratory.

The food of the rock-fish consists exclusively of small
shiners or cyprinoids ; and it is the pursuit of them into
small streams that explains their presence in places where
one would hardly expect to find them. A rock-fish will
frequently "corner up" a small school of shiners, and
then pick them up as rapidly and with as great ease as a
fowl will pick grains of corn, and, while devouring the
luckless minnows, it will keep them all the time huddled
together in a small space. There is no cessation of this
murderous work while a shiner remains, for, after de-
vouring all that it is possible for it to eat, a mere love of
destruction keeps the rock-fish still at work.

I once had a very favorable opportunity for watching
one of these fishes feed in this manner. It was of mod-
erate size, being about twelve inches in length. As near-

366 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ly as I could determine, it devoured twelve silver-fins — a
fish about three inches long — in four minutes. If I err
in my estimate, it is on the safe side, as it may have been
fifteen that were devoured in that length of time. Sub-
sequently I captured a dozen of these exquisite minnows,
and found that I could not squeeze them into a mass of
the size of a rock-fish one foot in length ; and yet the
fish did not appear to be distended, though in this case
it is very certain that the captured minnows were swal-
lowed without preliminary decapitation or other reduc-
tion of size, for in that case I should have seen the
fragments floating in the clear water.

A third perch, but one which no longer reaches the
size that it did in the days of our grandfathers, is the
well-known white perch, or " river-bass." As a little fish,
measuring but an inch or little more, it makes its appear-
ance in the river in schools of thousands. Preying upon
the equally abundant minnows of the same stream, they
grow with great rapidity, and by August are very gamy,
and large enough for " pan fish." This is the brief, prosy
history of a splendid fish.

Years ago I was satisfied that both the white perch
and rock-fish spawned in the clear, cold, upper waters of
the river and in certain of the tributary creeks. This, it
seems, is not the case. Just where they breed is a ques-
tion not yet answerable ; but the " somewhere " is at some
distance from the supposed spot, and the little fish, newly
hatched, or at least comparatively young, come up the
river early in spring, and, once here, remain for more or
less time, according to the character of the season, abun-
dance of food, and other causes. One point, however, in
their habits needs to be dwelt upon in this connection :
fish with well-developed ova are frequently found in the

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 367

river in May and June. It is now thought that these ova
are carried until late in autumn, and then deposited on
the accustomed spawning-grounds, supposed to be some-
where in the lower bay.

Both the rock-fish and white perch, then, must be
classed with the migratory fishes, and therefore are wide-
ly different from the yellow perch, which is a resident.
This can live and thrive in any pond, and exhibits little
taste for extensive rambling, at least as compared with
the others.

Both the rock-fish and white perch, nevertheless, can
be "land-locked," and individually they will thrive in
this condition if provided with unlimited food. That
they would breed, when thus " land-locked," is doubtful.

The latest results of studies of pickled "sunnies"-
shapeless mass of faded and distorted fish, half preserved
in weak alcohol, or bleached and bent by too strong
spirits — is that in the Delaware valley there are eight
species. Of these some are unmistakable, for among
sunfish, or Centrarchidce, are included the black bass,
goggle-eyed perch, the mud sunfish, the " copper-bellies,"
as well as the " sunnies " proper, all of which are familiar
to every boy in the country. About one or two so-
called species we need not now concern ourselves, as they
float in pickle, but do not swim in fresh water ; and it is
only with those that can be found any day in the week
that we are interested.

However, let us follow the faunal list in the manual
at hand, and consider seriatim some of our sunfish
proper.

Heading the list is a most interesting and well-defined
species, the mud sunfish.

In one of my neighbor's meadows there is a deep

368 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ditch, which a century of freshets has widened and deep-
ened, until now it has all the appearance of a spring
pond. A growth of birches hides it from view until we
reach the very shade of the trees, and all the summer
the water is quite concealed by a marvelously rank
growth of splatter-dock and white lilies. Upward from
these lily-buds and dock-leaves extends a slimy black
log, that is now worn as smooth as ebony by the friction
of turtles' feet and shells ; for here every day through-
out the summer rest all the turtles that can crowd upon
it. The banks of this pond or ditch are steep and high,
of a stiff clay, and burrowed through and through by the
colony of muskrats that are known to dwell here, but
which are seldom seen, and are too cunning to be caught.
Much as there is here, in broad daylight, to be seen and
enjoyed, I often pass all by, and drag a scoop-net among
the weeds, in the expectation of making some rare "finds."
Nor am I often disappointed. Among the curious ob-
jects I bring to light from these weedy depths is this
mud sunfish. Dull brown and black, with gilt, green,
and bronze reflections, it is a pretty fish, seen at its best,
and one worth careful study. A glance shows that it is
unlike the ordinary sunfish. Longer in body, with more
spines in the fins above and below, and a generally bass-
like appearance, it gives the impression of a gamy fish,
and this it really is.

Inasmuch as all fishes in the breeding season are more
interesting than during the other eleven months of the
year, it is desirable to know all about them in this par-
ticular month. So far as I am concerned, this month
will have to be passed over in silence. I never could
find their nests, although I have stirred up acres of mud
in search of them. Stranger still, I never could find any
very young specimens — none that were less than six

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 369

months old. Certainly, the mud sunfish is cunning in
hiding her nest and eggs, and the young fry know well
how to keep out of the way. As other desiderata in
zoology have been gathered up when least expected, so,
too, in this case I suppose I shall stumble across the
nest and young some day when looking for other objects.

That the spawn is deposited in spring is evident from
the condition of the females in April. In May, too, I
have noticed that the metallic luster of the male fish is
more marked than later in summer.

In February, 1875, I placed three fine specimens of
this fish in a large aquarium. The colors of the two
males were then very bright, and it seemed as if they
were aware of the fact, as they moved about in a stately
manner, endeavoring, I believe, to attract the attention
of the female. Except on such occasions, these fish are
dull and listless. I noticed that my aquarium specimens
much of the time assumed a perpendicular position, head
down and tail up, in a bunch of river-weed. The fins
were without perceptible motion. One of my specimens
retained this head-down and tail-up position for forty
minutes, and, when driven from his bunch of weed,
swam about very listlessly, resuming this strange posi-
tion as soon as I would let him. A curious freak in
coloration also was noticed at this time. Occasionally I
would go to the aquarium and find every tint had paled
into an indefinite dull yellow. Not a trace of metallic
luster remained, and even the black bands were at best
but a dull brown. Forced exercise, however, brought
back the color. At such a time I would cause them to
swim rapidly from end to end of the tank, and the result
was a restoration of the normal tints. It proved to be
with them, as with children, that a good lively romp
brings a deeper glow to the surface. This sudden change

370 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of color in fishes is of much interest in connection with
the subject of sexual selection ; but as this fish is noctur-
nal in its habits, I can scarcely believe that on this one
occasion in the year, when it is active and abroad by
day, it is seeking the clearest water and direct sunlight
for the better display of its peculiar metallic tints. Cer-
tainly the fish does not require this particular coloring as
a means of protection, for it has now no enemies. The
significance of the color is not known ; but the fact that
the fish has some control over it, as the deepening and
fading out clearly shows, leaves no room for doubting
that it has some important bearing on the habits of the
species, and that it is of great influence in the courtship
of fishes is therefore highly probable.

During succeeding summers I have several times
floated over weedy patches in the little creek near by,
and detected mud sunfish resting in the river-weed. It
was the same old story of my aquarium specimens. In
every instance these fish wrere in the remarkable position
I have mentioned ; not, indeed, in every case perpen-
dicular, but always closely approaching it, and with the
head downward.

I once had the good fortune to observe a large speci-
men of this fish making its way toward deeper water
through such a dense mass of aquatic vegetation that the
greater part of the time it was actually out of the water,
apparently creeping among the weeds by the aid of its
ventral fins. It progressed in this awkward manner fully
three feet, keeping the body in a position as nearly up-
right as when swimming. On subsequent examination
I found that a large log was deeply imbedded in the mud,
with less than half an inch of water flowing over it ; and
it was this barrier that caused the fish to imitate success-
fully the reptile-like movements that I had witnessed.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 371

Like most fishes that habitually frequent weedy and
muddy waters, this sunfish is really nocturnal in its
habits, and it is for this reason that it is so little known.
Like all other nocturnal fishes, too, it has a well-developed
voice ; but of this hereafter. In a subsequent chapter
this subject will be treated of at length ; and the mud-
sunfish will again come under our notice.

CHAPTER XXXV.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. — (CONTINUED.)

THE next sunfish mentioned in the " Manual " as one
of the Delaware River species is that known by me as a
"brass-belly." My angling friends always call it the
"river sunfish," and this name covers an important fact in
its history. It is emphatically a river species, and very
seldom wanders out of it. Years ago, when I first dared
go a-fishing, my companion, whom I looked upon as a sec-
ond Cuvier, once suggested that we go to the river for
"brass-bellies," and the success of the day's fishing was
such that I have never forgotten it, or the name that Bob
gave these sun fish. Then, too, on our return we were met
by a colored fisherman of great experience, who paused
to admire " the string " we were carrying homeward, and
he corrected my companion by asserting that we had
caught " big-ears," and not " brass-bellies." However, I
was not convinced, and I still adhere to the name given
them by my companion, though the other is equally de-
scriptive and more refined. In considering the signifi-
cance of color with reference to the preceding species,
it will be remembered that two facts were prominently
noticed in regard to the mud sunfish — the absence of con-
spicuous coloring and its nocturnal habits. In the case
of the "river sunfish," or brass-belly, there is, on the
contrary, very conspicuous coloring, and its habits are

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 373

diurnal. It has a green back, red vertical fins, and a
bright yellow-red belly, with deep blue on the sides, blue
stripes on the head, and a long, velvety black ear-flap.
Now, the spring and summer through, this fish seeks
clear, running water, and therein sports the day long,
leading very much a butterfly-like existence.

In April, the colors, always bright;, are more brilliant
than ever, and it is at this time that it becomes evident
that the fish realizes what color is, and puts to good use
all the attractions that sexual selection has evolved.
Seeking some female of its kind, it displays itself by a
series of graceful manoeuvres, which are highly entertain-
ing even to outsiders. Passing to and fro before the
desired female, the fish will at times swim upon one side
so that the sunlight will strike directly upon the brilliant
blua and crimson hues, and then, suddenly regaining its
ordinary position, it will spread all its fins to their utmost
and sail majestically by, giving the spestators the impres-
sion of a larger fish than it really is. This is kept up, I
think, for several days, and, if not interrupted by the in-
trusion of a rival, results in a graceful acceptance. Here
I am puzzled, for, as often as I have watched these fish, I
never could detect any movement that would warrant me
in -interpreting it as a sign of acceptance. Indeed, it is
highly probable that they have means of communicating
ideas by movements so slight as to escape our closest
scrutiny. In the spring of 1873 I noticed one of these
river sunfish endeavoring to make a favorable impression
upon a female. Whether she paid any attention to the
nervously active gallant, I can not tell ; I only know that
she remained stationary for hours, while the male passed
up and down, and from side to side, almost as steadily as
clock-work. If disturbed, away they both would dart,
but only to return in a few moments, each to resume its

374 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

former position, the one being apparently a quiet specta-
tor of the graceful submarine gymnastics of the other.
This continued from Sunday until Wednesday, when both
fish disappeared, and were found coon after building a
nest some iifty yards distant.

Like all nest-building fishes, the river sunfish is very
pugnacious while it has a nest under its care, and will
defend it against every intruder. Not always is it suc-
cessful in this, I am sorry to say, but it is never cowardly,
even when turtles and snakes invade its retreat. Indeed,
I have seen a red-bellied turtle seize the sunfish, when
too bold in its attack, and tear it nearly to pieces. The
worst enemy, however, of the sunfish at such a time is
one of the little darters, already mentioned, which rushes in
among the eggs without being noticed, and then is off
and half-buried in the sand before the harassed sunfish
can arrest him.

When the young fish are about one third of an inch
in length — and about as broad as they are long — they are
left to shift for themselves, and they are quite equal to
the demands made upon them. What they find to eat, I
can not say ; but their quick movements, as they dart rest-
lessly about, clearly show that they find something, and
know how to secure it. The young fish of each season
remain together for a year or more, and only become
widely separated as their steady growth demands more
extended feeding-grounds. This requires each brood
finally to scatter ; but if sufficient food were at hand,
these fish would probably remain in close companies, as
they appear to be a very social fish. Certainly, mated
fishes possess a strong mutual affection, and many instances
have occurred under my own notice that indicated this
most unquestionably. I have further proved it by cruel
experiments, which will be mentioned hereafter.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 375

Occasionally the allied blue sunfish, or "copper-
nosed bream," has been found in the Delaware. The
first of these I found in 1874, and since then I have seen
but two, until last August (1881), when one was caught
in Crosswicks Creek. Somehow, through the canals or
otherwise, these fish have reached our river valley. Here
they are, and this is all I know about them.

The common sunfish, the " sunny " par excellence, is
next in the list. How many entries in my note-books
refer to this fish I have not time to count ; but I never
went to Watson's Creek without seeing hundreds of them,
and never came home that I didn't " put it down." It
was not, however, always a mere sight of the fish, and
nothing more, as I sometimes had glimpses of its habits,
and followed it up until I learned some new fact. Such
days were not lived in vain.

It happens that at what is called the " bend " in Wat-
son's Creek there grows an enormous elm, the gnarled
and twisted roots of which extend out into the clear
water — clearer for the spring that here bubbles up from
the bed of the stream. Given this combination of creek,
spring, and tree, and the fourth feature, a pair of sunfish,
is not likely to be wanting. At all events, in this case
there is always a patriarchal sunfish and his mate living
in state among these elm-roots ; and a ver}r interesting
fact is here to be noticed at the outset. They are not
merely paired for the season, but remain a faithful and
loving couple all the year and for several years. One
such pair did so live, I know, and I believe the same may
be said of them all, at least when they are large enough
to gain possession of soms such nook as I have mentioned
and can hold it against all intruders. Their worst ene-
mies are men and boys, of course, for juvenile anglers in

376 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

particular are prone to find these aged " sunnies," and
exercise all their ingenuity to capture them. Here comes
in the evidence of affection on the part of these fishes.
If one of them is hooked, the mate is at once aware of
the fact, and is prompt to seize the same fatal hook, as
though unwilling to be left alone and anxious to follow
its companion even to death. Why,. it may be asked, is
it not a simple case of " good luck " on the part of the
angler? Two fishes were in the same "hole," and both
were caught — the same bait that deceived the one deceiv-
ing the other. This is a rational explanation of such an
occurrence ; but, in my own angling experience, I have
found that it is only by great care and much ingenuity
that these large fish can be induced to bite ; then, if one
is hooked, the other follows it to the surface of the water,
and is evidently excited and distressed, and, unlike its un-
fortunate mate, bites savagely at the hook as soon as it
is replaced in the water. It seizes the hook either in re-
venge, or because it realizes that by so doing it can fol-
low its companion. I consider the facts of the move-
ments of the two fishes — the wariness of the one first
captured, the recklessness of the other — and deduce from
it that the psychology of fishes is no myth, but that in
such an instance as here given there is evidence of dis-
trust, and of anger, revenge, recklessness, and deep affec-
tion. These traits — one shown by one of the fishes, and
the others by its mate — lead me to conclude that the life
of a fish is by no means a mere mechanical, joyless exist-
ence. In fact, one need but look straight into the eye
of a large pike, to be satisfied that that fish is every whit
as wicked in his thoughts as he is in appearance, for pike
do think, as every one who has angled for them will, I
think, admit.

To see our common sunfish at their best, it is neces-

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 377

sary to hunt up their nests in May. Then everything
concerning them is intensified. Their colors are bright-
er, their movements more active, and every feature of
their surroundings is furbished up and new. The mud
of the spring freshets has all floated away or settled to
the bottom of the pond ; the water-plants are not too
rank to conceal the fishes' haunts ; and the foliage of the
overhanging trees is fresh, bright, and not too dense for
straggling sunbeams to penetrate. One of the " sights "
at this time, if we direct our steps to the creek, is the
row of sunfish-nests along the shore. This fish at this
time has a horror of dirt, and every speck other than fine,
clean sand is carefully removed from the shallow circular
depressions which constitute their nests. Now, it often
happens that the available places for such nests are not
everywhere along the bank of the creek, but that short
stretches, here and there, only can ba utilized. These
are fully occupied, the nests being at times but a foot or
two apart ; and, when a comprehensive glance can be had,
they look like a row of rusty pie- plates just beneath the
water. In these nests both fishes will often be, and yet
scarcely recognizable when seen from above. All the
gorgeous coloring is confined to their sides and bellies;
the back, being a dull green, blends well with the sur-
roundings and the color of the water. This fact would
afford them protection from such enemies as might be
above them, though there are none such now, unless, per-
haps, a stray otter or mink might happen to be near.
Doubtless, in the long ago of primeval forests and abun-
dant wild-cats and fisher-martens, this green color was
of much value to sunfish as a protection against surprise ;
but that time has long passed, and now their enemies are
gone, except the pin-hook and tow-string anglers of recent
times, though these again are generally too bungling to

378 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

be dangerous. The nests are usually occupied for a space
of four weeks, when the parent fishes relinquish their
cares, and leave the young "sunnies," now more like
flakes of jelly than bony fishes, to shift for themselves.

One curious feature of the habits of sunfish, while
nesting, is worthy a moment's notice. I have mentioned
that often many nests are in a row and near each other.
The occupants of the several nests do not molest each
other, and never intrude beyond the limits of their own
" homes." They have but one direction open to them,
and this is to the deep water directly in front. Into this,
when they leave the nest, the sunfish dart with great ra-
pidity. Often this constant going and coming wears a
path along the mud and through the weeds, which can be
readily traced for some distance. The return to the nest
is as rapid and direct as the exit. Each fish, wherever it
may go, has some point which is recognized as the termi-
nus of the lane leading to the nest, and, having found this,
it speeds up the narrow pathway with incredible velocity,
and stops as suddenly just at or in the nest. Then the
other, as quickly and in the same manner, departs, leav-
ing the nest in charge of its mate.

Here we have evidence of the " sense of direction,"
which is very remarkable. There is usually a dense
growth of pond-weed or splatter-dock between the nest
and the channel or deepest water of the creek or pond.
How, when the parent fish is in this clear, deep water, it
can tell the exact position of its nest, and swim directly
to it, is a mystery ; yet this they are unquestionably able
to do. However well defined the pathway or lane lead-
ing from the nest may be, it necessarily " fades out," as it
were, as the deeper water is n eared ; but it would seem
as though there were some landmark that the fish recog-
nized. If this is not the case, and it is difficult to believe,

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 379

may we not ascribe to them the possession of a so-called
" sense of direction " working independently and unerr-
ingly, without regard to any features of the surround-
ings ? Such a sense, indeed, the sunfish seems to possess.
The possession of a sense of direction is also shown by
such experiments as the following : I once carefully re-
moved a sunfish from its nest, and carried it one thou-
sand feet up the stream, when I set it at liberty. Between
the nest and the point where I placed the fish there were
two abrupt bends in the creek, so that it formed a letter
Z between the points mentioned. I hastened back to the
nest : but the fish was there before me. I then took a
fish from an adjoining nest, and carried it nearly one
thousand yards down the stream. In this case there were
two bends in the stream, and it was also partially ob-
structed by old abandoned flood-gates. I hurried back to
the nest, and reached it only three minutes before the
fish returned. I have since made many similar experi-
ments, and all with essentially the same results.

When nesting, the fact that fishes are affectionate can
be readily proved ; but the experiment is cruel, and I
trust will not be tried. It is merely to hook one of the
nesting fish, and, when dead or dying, place it in the
nest. I tried it once, and will certainly never repeat it.
The evidences of grief on the part of the distressed and
bewildered widowed fish were truly affecting.

A few words with reference to this fish as a weather
prophet. The old men of the neighborhood frequently
speak of them in this connection, and undertake to fore-
tell whether the coming summer will be wet or dry, from
the fact that their nests are sometimes in water a foot in
depth, while at others less than one half this depth cov-
ers them. These wise old men of the village sagely
shake their heads, when the facts are stated, and remark,

380 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

if the nests are comparatively deep, " It will be a dry sum-
mer," and vice versa. This is based on the supposition
that in dry summers the evaporation will exceed the
rain-fall, and that the fish place their nests in deep water
to prevent them from being left high and dry. The ab-
surdity of this is apparent. The nests are occupied but
for a portion of one month, and what the summer may
be can in np wise affect them ; but of this the village
sages never think. The truth is, the same spots are used
year after year, whether the water be high or low.

In those of our shallow, sluggish waters which have
an indefinitely deep, muddy bottom, and harbor a rank
growth of aquatic vegetation, the handsome, silvery,
black-banded sunfish is a common species. In such lo-
calities, where often the weeds grow so luxuriantly that a
scoop-net can not be drawn, I have found that hundreds
of these fishes were passing what I think must be a most
monotonous existence. In some places, locomotion must
be rather a scramble among the water-weeds than a com-
fortable swim. Still, these spots have their advantages ;
for the stems of the plants harbor myriads of minute
forms of life, and these constitute a never-failing supply of
food for the fishes, as may be proved by an examination
of the contents of their stomachs, and by a study of their
habits in an aquarium, where these same forms of animal
life were supplied.

Recently I submitted a series of specimens to my
friend, Dr. A. C. Stokes, of Trenton, N. J., who kindly
examined the contents of the stomachs of these species
by the aid of the microscope, with the following results :

In the stomachs of a dozen or more adult banded sun-
fish he found Chironomus larvse very numerous ; Cyclops
quadricornis numerous ; Daphnia sp. numerous ; chiti-

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 381

nous parts of small insects present, but not abundant ; dia-
toms, desmids, and fragments of algae, probably acci-
dental; and a single rliizopod (Centropyxis aculeata). In
very young fish he found Chironomus larvae few, and
Cyclops quadricornis and Daphnia sp. numerous.

He adds, " In the stomach of a full-grown fish there
were from seventy-live to one hundred Chironomus larvae,
which seem to be the favorite food." This*shows at a
glance that the banded sunfish is essentially a surface
feeder, and, as we seldom see them moving about in the
open water or near the surface, they are probably noctur-
nal in their habits. In an aquarium, however, they seem
to be as active during the day as at night, although averse
to exposure to direct sunlight.

As a fish for the aquarium, the banded sunfishes are
deservedly popular, and, indeed, they are better known
as dwellers in such narrow quarters than as a prominent
species in the fauna of the lower Delaware Yalley. I be-
lieve they are not found above tide-water at all. I have
frequently shown these fish to old fishermen, who rarely
acknowledge that they have ever before seen them ; and
this fact is corroborative of what I had long supposed,
that these fish are only found in out-of-the-way nooks
and corners, where game-fish seldom if ever come, and
that hence their haunts are not often invaded. In fact,
one would scarcely expect to find any fish in some of the
weed-grown holes in the meadows, where, in truth, scores
of banded sunfish are quietly taking their ease.

Occasionally, however, I have seen this fish wander
into quite open waters, and here it is that it shows to
such advantage, when, with the brilliant black dorsal and
pectoral fins spread, it moves majestically along.

Although so small, it is a plucky fish, and promptly
resents any interference. Being a feeble swimmer, it

382 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

depends for defense upon the sharp spines of its dorsal
fins, and it seems to know that when these are erected it
is quite free from molestation. Especially angry does it
become when a great lubberly catfish chances to wander
near by and -pokes his slimy nose into its haunts. At
once the plucky sunfish is up in arms, and darts at the
intruder with great violence. It is a veritable case of the
king-bird and crow over again, only beneath the water,
instead of in the air.

I am still in the dark about the breeding-habits of
this fish. At times I have thought that it scooped out a
nest in the sand, as the common " sunny " does ; but I am
not so sure about it. During the spring of 1881 I found
females of this species heavy with immature ova, and I
am now of the opinion that, if any nest is made, it is in
the mud, among the lily-stems, or at the base of some
projecting root. Certainly, if anywhere in open water,
I should have found them before this.

A puzzling fact, that haunted me whenever I went
fishing, until very recently (September, 1883), was that I
never found any very young " bandies," as I usually call
them. I had often scooped up scores of the mud-loving
Enneacanthi, found in the same quarters, but with never
a " bandy " among them. Hoping ever for better things,
I continued to search for them, and at last success crowned
my efforts. Early in September last I found scores of
little ones, some not more than half an inch in length.
It is safe to say, therefore, that the ova are deposited in
May or June. Just where, remains to be determined.

Years ago I stated in the " Naturalist " that the banded
sunfish scooped out little basins in the sand, and therein
deposited their ova ; but do they ? Upon the authority
of what I stated in 1870, it has been repeatedly assert-
ed that the banded sunfish is a nest-builder ; but I am

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 383

forced to admit that my own observations do not warrant
me in going further than saying that this is probably
true. Wherever one finds the banded sunfish, he is sure
to find a few individuals of the common " sunny," and,
when we consider the fact of the association of these
species, how readily might it happen that the accidental
proximity of a banded sunfish to a nest of the common
species should lead to the impression that the nest was
the possession of fish seen near it ! I was possibly misled
in this matter years ago. At all events, I am not posi-
tive I ever saw a nest of the banded sunfish.

A very constant companion of the preceding is a
beautiful sunfish of about the same size, but very differ-
ently colored. It is known locally as the " spotted sun-
fish," from the blue and golden dots that are profusely
sprinkled over the male fish. It has been given a vari-
ety of scientific names, and that which rightfully belongs
to it, because first given, has been generally ignored.

I find in the hand-book that there are two of these
spotted sunfish allotted to the Delaware, which, I doubt
not, is all very true ; but it is not always easy to tell which
is which, if we follow the directions of the manual. One
of the two has golden spots, and one blue spots — so it is
said ; but when I put one of them in a glass, I find the
spots are blue one minute and golden the next, and so
the change keeps on. Then we are told that one has
cross bars of black, and the other has them not ; but this
is only true in part, as the females of the spotted sun-
fish want the bars and spots, and the males have them :
and so we could go on to the end of the chapter. If
there are two species of these small spotted sun fish, then
one is that named by Professor Baird obesus, the other
called guttatus by Dr. Morris years ago. I well remember
the specimens the doctor caught, and christened as above,

384 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and these are the same that, associated with the banded
sunfish, are so common in all the weedy portions of Wat-
son's Creek.

In a recent number of " Harper's Magazine " (Decem-
ber, 1883) Mr. C. F. Holder speaks of this sunfish as
lying " dormant till the coming spring." This does not
accord with my more recent observations. On the ap-
proach of cold weather, the fish that I have studied sim-
ply withdrew to deeper waters, and, wherever there is a
lively spring in the bed of the creek, there these fish
congregated in great numbers. Like the larger fishes of
the same creek, they find open water somewhere, and
there remain ; and nets set under ice, in the depths of
winter, show that very nearly all our fishes are active.
Even the delicate cyprinoids are " moving," for, in the
stomachs of pike caught in January, I have found re-
mains of "shiners" of several species. I believe the
hibernation of sunfish to be an exceptional occurrence,
rather than a rule.

Like the preceding, the spotted sunfish is strictly
carnivorous, but does not feed upon the same forms of
minute life. This is shown by the results of my friend
Dr. Stokes's careful examination of the stomach-contents
of a series of specimens submitted to him.

The examination of twelve adult specimens of spotted
sunfish resulted as follows :

In every case the stomach was empty, but the intes-
tine contained tracheae, eyes, elytra, heads and chitinous
parts of small aquatic beetles. These were very numer-
ous ; also Pisidium sp. occasional ; several small univalve
mollusks ; a few Chironornus larvae ; occasionally a Daph-
nia and Cyclops ; and Gammarus sp. numerous. In the
very young spotted sunfish examined, there were found
Pisidium sp. occasionally ; many Daphnia and Chironomus

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 385

larvoe ; a few fragments of insects ; many Cyclops ; a few
very small univalve mollusks, and a single water-mite.

Here we have evidence that this species of sunfish is
a bottom feeder, and resorts to the mud rather than else-
where for its main food-supply ; but not always, for,
during a recent ramble along Watson's Creek, I no-
ticed quite a commotion in the shallow water near shore,
and, on approaching the spot, I discovered that three
of these spotted sunfish had attacked a crayfish which
had just cast its shell. The battle lasted but for a mo-
ment after I became a spectator. One by one the
limbs of the crustacean were torn off, and portions of
them devoured by the fish in full view of their tortured
victim.

"When I see such sights as these — and they are by no
means uncommon — I can not but think that there is a
screw loose in nature ; that nothing is perfect, and ani-
mal life is only reaching out toward perfection.

In 1873 I happened to catch a fine specimen of the
" g°ggle~eye(l perch," and found, on inquiry, that it was
a new fish in the Delaware, according to the systema-
tists; and "oncommon," according to the experienced
fishermen of the neighborhood. I showed it to several
old " shad-men," and they all told me that occasionally
they had seen them. Since then I have seen perhaps a
dozen specimens, all from the river, and hence I conclude
that they have a claim to a place in the fauna of the
river valley. That they were not here formerly is prob-
able ; but now, and for many years, there has been a prac-
ticable route open to them, through our canal system, to
reach the Delaware from either northwestern or south-
ern waters. In this way, most likely, they have managed
to come. All the specimens seen were adult, and this
leads me to expect that ultimately they will become quite
17

386 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

numerous. They are worth angling for, if all fight as did
the only one I ever caught.

There is yet another fish that I class, for convenience,
with the sunfish, simply because I usually find them
when looking for " sunnies," though in fact it belongs to
a very different family. It is the " pirate," or spineless
perch, which, by the way, I never expect to find, and
which I certainly never have found, when on a regular
hunt for them. That they are always in the deeper
ditches I am certain, but they can easily dodge a scoop-
net, and all day long they hide in such inaccessible nooks
that they are safe. It was only by accident that I ever
have bagged them, and so, with a light heart, I make a
place for every such one in my aquarium, and sit down
to watch how the ill-tempered fellow behaves in confine-
ment. They are well named " pirates," as they are among
minnows what shrikes are among sparrows, and are more
pitiless even than the pike.

Recently I find the correctness of this view questioned
by Professor Forbes, of Illinois, who has made many
exhaustive studies of the food of fishes. He says my
specimens " were doubtless forced to feed so largely upon
fishes for want of food more natural to them, since, in
their native haunts, fishes make but a small percentage
of their ordinary food." As a matter of fact, while my
studies of the habits of this fish were largely confined
to specimens in aquaria, these were supplied with other
food, and my conclusions were verified by subsequent
examinations of the stomach-contents of many speci-
mens. I have frequently found them with a partially
digested fish projecting from their jaws ; and fish-re-
mains proved to be fully seventy-five per cent of the con-
tents of the stomachs of a series of seven adult specimens

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 387

taken last September (1883), and carefully examined to
determine the character of the food.

Professor Forbes further states that the " intestine of
this species is short and simple," and overlooks the signifi-
cant fact that it has a row of a dozen or more pyloric caeca,
which doubtless compensate for the want of length of the
digestive tract proper.

Without questioning the correctness of my friend's
investigations on this point, I am quite sure that the can-
nibalistic appetite of the New Jersey pirate perches has
not been overstated.

As a result of many long studies of them, in aquaria,
I find that they are strictly nocturnal in their habits.
Many fish, as eels and catfish, are essentially so, but in
this case it is absolutely so. In confinement I never
knew them to move about in search of food, although
they were prompt to accept it if placed directly before
and very near them. One large specimen, in particular,
which I kept for eleven months, remained during the day
under a little arch of stones, and so seldom varied its posi-
tion that it became as permanent a fixture in my mind
as the arch itself. I would scarcely have felt more sur-
prise to see the arch change its place than to have seen
any voluntary movement on the part of the pirate during
the day ; but, on the approach of evening, the fish began
to grow restless and moved slowly to and fro, but not
beyond the cover of the arch. Once let it be dark, and
the restlessness gave way to a disposition to roam about,
and this it did in an erratic, nervous manner. The result
of its short journeyings, however, was invariably the capt-
ure of a good-sized minnow, and with this it promptly
returned to the arch and resumed its favorite position.
Usually it captured a minnow far too large to be swal-
lowed whole, and so, with the tail projecting from its

388 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

jaws, the pirate would go to the arch, and remain perhaps
all the next day with its mouth distended by the project-
ing tail of the minnow it had swallowed.

As in the case of the banded sunfish, I am not posi-
tive as to the breeding-habits of this fish. In the " Ten-
foot Ditch," in my neighbor's mucky meadow, I found
early in June, 1860, very young specimens, which were
thought to be but three or four weeks old at most. The
water here was clear, with a swift current, and the
bottom of the stream was completely covered with pond-
weeds of several species. Somewhere near, the eggs
must have been laid ; but where, or how many, is a mat-
ter of conjecture. There were not many of these young
fish.

From circumstances connected with the finding of
very young " pirates " in a nameless brook flowing into
Cooper's Creek, Camden County, N. J., and later of find-
ing very many associated young fish in the Shabbaconk
Creek, I was led to believe that this fish made a nest
like that of the common sunfish, and often appropri-
ated the nests made by the " sunny." So sure was I
of this, that I made an unqualified assertion to that effect
in the " Geology of New Jersey," Appendix E, p. 808, and
since then in " The Naturalist " ; but of late years I have
not been able to verify this. I can, however, speak very
positively of the fact that the parent fish remain with
the young for a considerable time, apparently to guard
them ; or was it to devour one occasionally, other food
being scarce ?

In speaking of the nests of the common sunfish, Mr.
C. F. Holder, in the article I have already quoted, refers
to the nesting habits of the " pirate " as follows :

" They have, however, one enemy that seems to defy
them, the pirate perch (Aphrodederus Sayanus), which,

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 389

like the cuckoo, that is either incapable or too lazy to
build a nest of its own, often deposits its eggs in that of
its neighbor.

" The perches wait until the suniish complete their
homes, when they evict them by force of blows, often
only after a sanguinary struggle. This accomplished, the
victors, male and female, install themselves, and the eggs
are deposited frequently among those of the former occu-
pants, who perhaps are avenged, as their captors guard
their nest jealously, protecting the young sunfish as they
come out, and staying by them until they are about half
an inch in length, when they are left to look out for
themselves."

Unfortunately, this statement is based upon my own
perhaps too hasty conclusions, and may not be wholly
correct.

Whenever I chance to walk along the tide-water
ditches of the lower meadows, my attention is sure to
be called to the greenish-gray minnows that dart by in
scores, and in fact are only noticeable from above when
seen in considerable numbers closely associated. They
are of no particular tint as seen in the water, agreeing in
this respect with the sandy, muddy bottom of the ditch,
they are in. To test this, I have often scattered a little
school of them, and while none were concealed it was
only with great difficulty that I could detect individuals ;
yet probably there were three or four on every square
foot of ground examined. This indefinite coloring proves
an excellent protection, or else the herons must have
sharp eyes, for these birds catch as many fish as frogs, I
think. These minnows are not the little shiners that are
also called by this comprehensive term, but are the blunt-
headed, square-jawed, barred little fish that are more com-
mon in the river than anywhere else, but are by no means

390 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

confined to it. They are known scientifically as the
Cyprinodonts, or toothed minnows.

I have gathered four well-marked species, but detect-
ed no differences in their habits. They are all social,
carnivorous, restless, diurnal, running-water fishes, and
seem to have no other duty in the plan of creation than
to feed on minute mollusca and insect larvae, and to hold
themselves in readiness to be eaten by larger fishes, and
by the king-fishers, the herons, bitterns, and other birds.

One of the four species, the common barred minnow,
is of a more restless disposition than the others, and wan-
ders as far from tide-water as it is possible to go. I
know of no more earnest explorer among our many fishes.
"Wherever there is an inch of moderately clear water,
there the barred minnow will be found. Only perpen-
dicular falls of a foot or more in height, or constantly
muddied waters, obstruct their course. Ordinary rapids,
as where the water rushes madly over or about large
rocks, do not prevent their onward progress ; and often,
early in the spring, I have seen them leap several inches
up a fall that was nearly or quite perpendicular.

In general appearance quite like the carnivorous or
toothed minnows just mentioned, is an abundant species
that frequents only the quiet muddy ditches, mostly be-
yond the reach of the tides. This is the mud-minnow.
It is a small fish, seldom being found of a greater length
than three inches ; but has been known to reach nearly
twice that size. Such large specimens, however, are ex-
ceedingly rare.

In calling this fish the mud-minnow, it must not be
supposed for a moment that they are sluggish, slow-
moving creatures. On the contrary, they are as active as
other minnows, and, being possessed of greater strength,
can pass through soft mud with as much ease as other

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 391

fishes do through the clear waters. Zadoc Thompson, in
his " History of Vermont," speaks of them as very tena-
cious of life, and says they "can live longer than most
fishes without water. During droughts, as the waters sub-
side and recede from the coves, they have the power by
a springing motion of transporting themselves from one
little puddle to another. They also have the power of
partially burying themselves and living in the mud and
among the moist grass-roots, after the other small fishes
associated with them are all dead from the want of water.
In these situations vast numbers of them are devoured
by birds, musk-rats, and foxes." This coincides with my
own observations, except that, unfortunately, we have no
foxes to devour the superabundant minnows.

One feature of peculiar interest in this fish is the
great variation of color. While nearly all our dark-hued
fishes differ in the depth of coloring, this variation is
either permanent or it is in a measure dependent upon
the season, as when colors are heightened by excessive
vitality during the breeding-season ; but in this case it is
wholly different. Specimens kept in an aquarium, where
the surroundings closely imitated their natural haunts,
never exhibited uniform coloring. In many females the
body below the lateral line was often glossy black, re-
lieved by minute silvery dots ; but frequently this color
faded to the general hue of the back, which is a dull, green-
ish brown, in the larger specimens relieved by darker
vertical bands. The most marked variation was in some
of the smaller specimens, which were almost silvery in
color below the lateral line, and pale, greenish gray above.
The dark vertical band at the base of the tail is always
present. No published description of the color will ap-
ply to one in a hundred living specimens.

During the winter of 1873-'T4: I had unusually fa-

392 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

vorable opportunities of studying this minnow at this
time of year. In December, while the weather was cool
rather than cold, with but little ice, I found that hun-
dreds of these fish were being thrown out with the mud
then being taken from the ditches in the meadows.
Learning this, I carefully examined the mud thrown
out, to determine as far as possible the condition of these
fishes. They were, when taken from the mud, motion-
less, stiff, and apparently frozen, though they were not
brittle, and an attempt to bend them resulted in prompt
resistance, or at least in voluntary muscular movements.
Specimens thus roughly handled were, in most instances,
injured by being thus bent, even when this curvation was
not in excess of what they can and readily do assume in
their normal condition.

On placing specimens in clear water of the tempera-
ture of 60° Fahr., they did not fully revive until after
lying on their sides at the bottom of the vessel for from
twenty-five to forty minutes, and then they seemed to
be permanently injured by the sudden change ; but when
placed, with the mud still adhering to them, in water at
40° Fahr., and this was gradually warmed by the heat of
the room in which the vessel stood, the minnows would
become wholly themselves again in from ten to fifteen
minutes, and swim about in full vigor as the mud slowly
loosened from them and settled to the bottom of the
vessel.

The mud in which these minnows were hibernating,
when taken from the bottom of the ditch, was about of
the consistence of cheese, though, of course, it was less
firm when the fish entered it, weeks before. As far as
I was able to determine, the fish had burrowed tail-fore-
most to a depth of from four to nine inches. In every
instance I am sure the tail was deeper in the mud than

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 393

the head, the position varying from nearly horizontal to
almost or quite perpendicular.

Pursuing the investigation somewhat further, I found
that when these minnows had gone into winter-quarters
in water from three to five feet deep, the hibernating
slumber was not as profound ; and when they were placed
in clear water, at a temperature of 40° Fahr., they almost
immediately swam about, slowly at first, but with steadily
increasing activity, and in from three to five minutes
they were in full possession of all their locomotive pow-
ers, and assumed the statue-like positions common to
them in summer, when for many minutes together they
will remain immovable until an opportunity is offered to
capture an insect or some minute crustacean. It should
be here mentioned that the water in the ditches from
which I gathered my first specimens varied from nine to
fifteen inches in depth, and was coated with ice one inch
thick.

During February, the weather being mild and spring-
like— frogs singing at midday — I watched for the ap-
pearance of these tish, and saw them first on Sunday, the
loth. A week later, Monday, the 23d, there were but
few specimens in the muddy ditches, but a vast number
of females, heavy with masses of ova, were found in the
swift, clear waters of the hill-side brooks.

On the 25th there was a violent snow-storm, with
cold northeast winds, but this did not deter the onward
movement of the minnows. Of the specimens taken
from the rivulets at this time, none were males, and it
seems probable, although I could not ascertain the truth,
that the male fish follow the females, and, seeking out
the deposited ova, fertilize them; or the females wait
until the arrival of the males before depositing their
eggs. While as yet this is largely conjecture on my part,

394: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

I have not in subsequent observations seen anything to
contradict it. Certainly the females precede the male
fish to the spawning-grounds. It is seen, therefore, that
while these fish at the commencement of winter seek
shelter from the cold by burrowing deeply in the mud,
at the approach of spring they revive synchronously
with the maturing of the ova of the female and the milt
of the male, and, having thus recovered their wonted ac-
tivity (during February and March), no severity of the
weather appears to deter them from seeking out excep-
tionally cold waters for their spawning-grounds. This
was shown by the snow-storm referred to, after which the
female minnows were still found passing up the brooks,
forcing their way up miniature cascades with all the agil-
ity of salmon, leaping from eddy to eddy, seeking out the
most distant points from their muddy summer haunts ;
and here, where but little water flowed, and with the
long grass and twigs projecting from it thickly coated
with crystal ice and glistening frost, I found the plainly
colored mud-minnows lying half hidden among the peb-
bles and sandy ridges of the brook's bed.

Subsequent studies of this fish have resulted in not-
ing certain peculiarities in its movements which may
have some bearing upon the subject of evolution. On
observing the movements of some remarkably large spec-
imens in an aquarium, I was forcibly struck with the
peculiar use they made of their pectoral fins. These
fins in most fish are kept parallel, or nearly so, with the
body, and they are usually thin, transparent, and with
very flexible rays. These conditions, which vary in the
thousands of species of fishes, do not obtain in the in-
stance of the mud-minnows. The membrane is dense,
the rays numerous and strong, and the fin is often held
at a right angle with the body when the fish is in a hori-

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 395

zontal position, and at more or less of an angle in what-
ever position may be assumed. The ventral fins, like-
wise stiff and strongly rayed, are not much used when
the fish is swimming, bnt as soon as the fish comes to a
rest they are spread out, and, with the pectoral fins now
motionless and stiff, they form four " legs " that support
the body, just as is the case with a salamander. In-
deed, the likeness goes further, and the body is frequent-
ly curved when at rest, and remains so, the head being
turned to the right or left, and the tail in the opposite di-
rection. No one can fail to see the salarnandrine ap-
pearance of this fish when it assumes such a position.

Now, if we follow up the habits of this fish, are there
any other un-tish-like habits to be seen? Knowing its
predilection for thick and muddy waters, its hibernating,
and ability to withstand prolonged exposure to the atmos-
phere, as already described, indications of habits suggest-
ive of a semi-aquatic life may reasonably be looked for.
The one peculiarity, other than those mentioned, that I
have noticed, is this : these fish, as I have mentioned, may
often be seen resting on the tips of the pectoral and ven-
tral fins. On disturbing them, occasionally, instead of
swimming, especially if the water is very shallow, they
make a forward movement, by giving these fins a leg-like

.motion, indicated by leaving faint traces, thus: (/(/

upon the sand. I first noticed this in observing speci-
mens kept in a large aquarium, and since then have seen
these same fin-marks made by the minnows in the mud
in the bottoms of the meadow-ditches. It is often a vol-
untary movement on their part, I am now convinced,
and not made only when disturbed. In fact, if suddenly
disturbed, they generally dart off by swimming only, and
bury themselves, tail-foremost, in the mud.

396 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Taking now into consideration this habit, together
with that of giving the body a salamandrine position,
often maintained for several minutes, as well as that of
burrowing in the mud, and also its capacity to withstand
exposure to the atmosphere for a long time, is not the
suggestion reasonable that a radical change may ulti-
mately take place, and a semi-aquatic animal, allied at
least in habits to the salamanders, be the result?

The mud -minnow is carnivorous. When kept in
aquaria they will devour any reasonable number of flies
offered them, and undertake, without hesitation, to swal-
low earth-worms, as large as themselves. Once they take
hold of a worm, they never let go, but at least secure that
portion of the animal between their jaws. Not only
do they allow themselves to be fed, by taking food di-
rectly from one's hand, but they will leap above the
water to seize any tempting morsel held above them.
Learning this from observations of many specimens kept
in aquaria, I was led to suppose that the same occurred
habitually in their native haunts, and this is true. Unlike
any other of our fishes, the mud-minnow will leap twice
and thrice its length above the surface of the water to
seize a fly or beetle that happens to rest upon some over-
hanging blade of grass or twig. So often, of recent
years, have I seen this, while floating quietly along on
the watch, that I am surprised that Professor Forbes, in
speaking of the food of these fishes, should state that in-
sects amount to but " fourteen per cent, chiefly undeter-
mined larvae," and further that " no terrestrial forms were
recognized." While it is scarcely probable that a fish with
so good an appetite could largely depend upon terrestrial
insects for its food-supply, yet it is evident, both from
aquaria studies and out-door observations, that these do
constitute a considerable percentage of its food. With

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 397

this species, as with many others which by their denti-
tion show that they are carnivorous, it is probable that
much of the vegetable matter found in their stomachs
has not been taken voluntarily, but unavoidably; the
fish swallowing portions of a plant often for the sake of
the animal life that was clinging to it.

In the manual to which I so frequently have occasion
to refer, I find no direct reference to a fish that is as
much a fresh-water species as our shad or herring. Why
it has been overlooked I can not understand, as I have
seldom wandered about the river during the summer
months without seeing numbers of this " exclusively ma-
rine " species. I refer to the silver gar or " bill-fish."
Years ago I called attention to the great numbers of these
fishes that are often caught in the canal, when the water
is drawn off, in December, " at the close of navigation."
Particularly during the month of August are these fishes
plentiful in the river, and when sporting in company
about a floating leaf or twig, darting over it and each
other with a great variety of graceful movements, they
present a most interesting sight.

They do not appear to leave the salt water at any
particular time of the year, but "whenever the notion
takes them " they wander up the river and thence into
the tributary creeks. Once here, they seem in no hurry
to return, as my note-books show them to have been seen
in Crosswicks Creek in every month of the year.

As a fresh-water fish, the silver gar reminds me
strongly of the pike. It preys upon the small minnows
in the same manner ; and at times it will remain motion-
less near the surface of the water, just beneath the spread-
ing leaves of the splatter-docks. Unlike the pike, how-
ever, it is somewhat sociable and full of play. Often a

398 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

half-dozen of them will chase each other with great ani-
mation, turning round and round in miniature circles.
A curious feature of these gambols is the excessive curva-
ture given to the body at such times. The fish will often
describe a circle, with its body almost in a similar posi-
tion. Then, quickly unbending, the circle will be again
described, but reversed, the body being bent in the op-
posite direction.

It is not only the adult fish that come into the fresh
waters of the river and the tributary creeks. I have
often seen them, less than six inches in length, far up
Crosswicks Creek, where the water was rapid, shallow,
and very cold.

On questioning the more experienced fishermen, I
find that a few of these silver gars are caught every year
during the shad-season, but that only in August are they
ever very abundant. Furthermore, this fact has been so
frequently noted, that a local name, u harvest-pike," is in
use in this neighborhood, based upon it.

De Kay does not appear to have known that this fish
enters our rivers. At least, he refers to it only as a
" coast " species. Nevertheless, the fish is frequently
found in the Hudson, as far from the coast as Albany.
De Kay further says, " It is highly prized by epicures."
In this neighborhood, on the contrary, it is supposed to
be poisonous. That it is not, I know to be true ; but how
far it is desirable as a food-fish I do not know from ex-
perience. They are too pretty to catch, and please me so
much, as I watch them " at home," that I have no desire
to drag them to my domicile to see how they taste.

Skipping the shad, for the world knows enough of it
already, there are a few words to be said of another of
the herring tribe that has become land-locked in this

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 399

neighborhood. This fact has made them interesting ; and
it is well that they should find favor in some way. As
an article of food they are absolutely valueless, or worse,
for the bones are of such size, strength, and confused ar-
rangement, that it is a foolhardy act to try to eat one of
these fishes. I speak from experience.

Not very far from the house is a quiet, maple-shaded
pond, where, summer long, the deep-voiced bull-frog
sounds his doleful ditty, and the sprightlier swamp-frogs
on the grassy shores, and bell-tongued Hylas on the
drooping branches of the overhanging trees, wake the
dull echoes with a livelier song. Here, out of the world,
as it were, in green and sluggish waters that tempt no
seeker for romantic scenes, there roams in listless mood
this great, lazy, leaden-colored fish that denies, in its
habits, any kinship to the great herring family to which
it belongs.

In this pond, for nearly thirty years, these landlocked
herring have lived and moved and had their being, sub-
sisting on the myriads of small shells that they crush to
atoms in their dense, muscular stomachs, the possession of
which has given them their common name of the gizzard-
shad.

This herring is common along our coast, and, entering
the river early in the spring, wanders as far inland as
do any of its tribe ; but, unlike the others, it often gets
into ponds which have an outlet to the river when the
spring freshets occur, but which are shut off from the
main stream when the waters sink to their ordinary
level. In this way the gizzard-shad become landlocked,
and under these circumstances they thrive admirably.
Whether, in the pond to which I have referred, they corne
and go with every freshet, I can not tell, though I doubt
it. Some, at least, that are in the pond have been there

400 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

for several years ; and many, for aught I know to the
contrary, have been born and bred there.

These landlocked specimens are of interest as show-
ing how readily an altered environment causes a decided
alteration in color, and probably also in their anatomical
structure. Comparison of these fish taken from the
"maple-pond," many of which are descendants of the
original fish that were landlocked in 1857, with those
from the river, show them to be wholly different in color,
and, more strangely still, their stomachs are certainly less
muscular. I have examined a great many from this
pond, supposed to have been hatched there, and at the
time were from two to three years old, and there was
certainly a smaller " gizzard " than in specimens of the
same size taken from the river, and which had come but
very recently from the sea, It is at least natural to specu-
late upon the probability of this herring in time losing
the muscular stomach, as a consequence of not requiring
such an organ for the digestion of the food that land-
locked localities offer.

Other fish feed upon the same mollusks and have no
such convenient gizzards, as, for instance, the perch and
chub ; but, then, the one has teeth in its jaws, arid the
other stout pharyngeal teeth that are admirably adapted
to crushing. Do these take the place of the gizzard in
the landlocked herring ? If so, the need of it is apparent,
and it will not wholly disappear, unless there is an entire
change in the food. Still, there is a difference, in this
respect, between these fish as found on the coast, and
those that for several generations have been confined to
small bodies of fresh water.

This landlocked herring is not always a sluggish fish,
as I have seen it, in April, as full of life as is the most
restless minnow. It seemed as though they had caught

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 401

the full meaning of the warblers' merry notes, and were
inspired by the sight of the crimson flashes of light that
glance upon the water as the mad-cap oriole in his nup-
tial dress rushes hither and yon among the overarching
trees. Indeed, at this time, the dull, leaden tints of this
fish become a glistening blue, and bands of sparkling sil-
ver deck its ashy sides. No water seems too cold or
too shallow for them. They dart like pickerel up the
tiny spring-brooks that feed the pond, and skip and dance
about the deeper water as though too joyful to contain
themselves. From the muddy depths they rise to the
surface, and, throwing themselves upon their sides, leap
above the water, as though challenging the birds to match
their brilliant colors. For a few days, their excess of
action is kept up, and then it ends, as all such manoeu-
vres ever do, in a profound reaction, when their hum-
drum existence returns ; and so quietly do they keep
themselves throughout the summer, that their existence
would not be suspected by the casual observer.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. (CONCLUDED.)

CONSIDERED as a group, there are no fishes so attract-
ive to me as the " shiners." I do not like to separate
them, and call one a chub, another a dace, and a third a
minnow. This savors too much of later anatomical stud-
ies. My first attempt at field-notes reads thus : " Walked
along the creek and saw lots of shiners " ; and my latest
rambles by the same stream can be no more comprehen-
sively described. The " lots of shiners " still are there,
and I only wish I dared sit under the old chestnut-trees,
as I could once, and catch these same shiners with a pin-
hook. Now, if I go a-fishing at all, it must be with
" boughten " tackle and a basket, and only bass or pike
must be angled for. This is called sport, but the fun of
pin-hook and tow-string days is wanting. Now I can
only gaze wistfully at these same shiners, and wish I was
a boy.

This class of fishes, known scientifically as cyprinoids,
are readily recognized as the roach, dace, chub, and min-
now of our streams. There is a strong family likeness
running through the class, and a general silvery coloring
which has given rise to the comprehensive term " shin-
ers."

I find that there are fourteen species in the creeks and
river at this place. At least, following the text-books,
this is true ; but I have found others which are hard to

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 403

determine, according to the descriptions given in the
books ; but as these lists are made up from a distorted,
faded mass of alcoholic specimens, the probabilities are,
that those who profess to know the most about these fish,
still fall short of the whole truth.

Foremost among these cyprinoids, the shiner par
excellence is the roach. It seldom happens that I look
into any ditch, even, and fail to see a dozen or more of
them lazily drifting about. They are eminently social,
and are often found in enormous schools ; but, unlike
herds of cattle, droves of horses, or flocks of geese, the
roach have no leaders. The danger that affrights one,
influences all alike, and as one body away they dart, the
moment a threatening shadow clouds the surface of the
stream. To watch them, being yourself in full view, is a
profitless undertaking. To follow them, yourself unseen,
is full of amusement and instruction. At such times it
may be possible to get an inner view, and so to determine
in a vague way how much intelligence flits through their
simple brains, although I must confess that the undertak-
ing often is almost hopeless so far as the roach is con-
cerned. Although watched for hours, they seemed as
little like living creatures as the floating twigs that drift-
ed with them. This was due, however, to two important
facts : they were neither hungry, nor were they oppressed
by enemies. Let either of these conditions be changed,
and their manner changes at once. When food is dis-
covered, it seems as if each individual roach of the school
saw the coveted morsel at the same time, and a chase
commences that is, at least, remarkable for the machine-
like uniformity in time and motion with which they all
rush forward to seize it. I have tested this frequently
in this way : Going a short distance above the foremost
of the school of roach, which always heads up-stream,

404: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

and darts down when frightened, I would throw a grass-
hopper into the water. In an instant, the nearest roach
would dart toward it, and usually seize it ; but at the same
time the hindmost roach would rush forward witli equal
promptness, although, of course, it could not have seen
the grasshopper, and knew not why it darted forward,
except for the reason that it felt the necessity of doing
precisely as its neighbors. Then I would change my tac-
tics, and throw a grasshopper into the middle of the school.
In such a case, the nearest ahead of the insect would
turn about, though they were seldom in time to catch it,
and the fishes farthest ahead would likewise all turn
about, apparently for no other reason than because those
behind them did so. They could not have known the
primary cause of the change of position of certain of their
fellows, nor could there have been any hope of seizing
the food, as that always fell to the fish nearest to whose
mouth it dropped. Then, in a third manner, I would
test the school by throwing a grasshopper some distance
behind the last of the fishes. The struggles of the insect
upon the surface would attract the hindmost roach in a
moment, and the fish would reverse its position. Quite
as promptly, the foremost fish would turn about in like
manner. It was evident, therefrom, that these fish are so
intimately associated as to act promptly as one body.
"What purpose does it serve ? So far as a food-supply is
concerned, it is disadvantageous, as the roach are carnivo-
rous, and no such abundance of insect or other animal
life is met with as to supply each member of a school
of two or three hundred individuals. This social instinct
would seem to have arisen as a means of protection. If
so, I am " at sea " as to what enemies they elude by as-
sociation. At present, the perch and pike prey upon
them, and the former follows the schools until surfeited

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 405

with both food and slaughter ; the latter lies in wait and
seizes the first to come within easy reach. In these cases,
the social instinct works them no good. Can it be that
each individual, knowing the danger to which it is ex-
posed, seeks the company of others, feeling that thereby
its own safety is increased ? This is crediting them with
intelligence beyond warrantable limits, perhaps, and as-
suming that they live their lives in a state of perpetual
fear. Imperfect as is creation, it is hard to believe that
any creatures are so unfortunately situated as this implies.
Nevertheless, their actions, at times, are only explicable
upon such an assumption.

The roach is an example of how far coloration may
vary among fishes of the same species, and therefore how
small reliance can be placed upon it in determining a
" species." Years ago, De Kay described as not only dis-
tinct species, but as belonging to different genera, indi-
viduals of this cyprinoid received from different locali-
ties, and presenting marked variation of color and some
minor differences of form. In rambling about this neigh-
borhood I have found a great many roach in the most
widely differing localities. I have found them in clear,
cold, rapid waters, that would charm a trout, and in green-
coated pools of such warm and thick waters that even
frogs declined to enter them. In the former case, the
fish were bright, silvery, and sleek, and darted to and fro,
when disturbed, with all the animation of a trout ; in
the latter, they were of a dull, leaden hue, without a
trace of metallic luster, and more sluggish and sleepy
than tadpoles. Even the general increased vivacity of
fishes in spring-time does not inspire these mud-haunting
roach. They are thoroughly dull, listless, and lazy, and
bear evidence of the direct influence of a depressing en-
vironment upon them. The only seemingly contradictory

406 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

condition is the fact that clear, pleasant waters are with-
in their reach, yet they do not see fit to leave their pres-
ent unattractive quarters. In certain of the large, muddy
pools frequented by roach, I have found some of the
largest specimens of this fish that I have ever seen. It
is seldom that in Watson's Creek wre find one more than
seven inches long, but, in a deep pool on a neighbor's
meadow, roach measuring nine inches in length have
been taken. These are very nearly the same in shape
and color as those described by De Kay as the " varie-
gated bream." Of this fish, that author remarks : " The
name of wind-fish is derived from one of its habits.
"Whenever a light flaw of wind ruffles the water, thou-
sands of these fish may be seen darting to the surface and
as suddenly disappearing." This I have often noticed
when, on approaching a pond suddenly, I have surprised
a school of roach. The habit is not caused by wind ruf-
fling the surface of the water, but is due to the fact that
the fish were startled, and, indeed, it is common among
all the cyprinoids. These fish generally keep just below
the surface of the water, and so near it that any sudden
movement is sure to ruffle it considerably. Without any
apparent cause, hundreds of other shiners will leap an inch
or more above the surface, and there is reason to believe
that the cause of this is the sudden appearance of preda-
tory fishes among them, just as the moss-bunkers, at sea,
leap above the water by thousands when chased by the
blue-fish.

Another well-marked variety of the roach, found in
a small creek some distance from my home, are small,
slender, and of a uniform steel-blue color. Even the fins
differ from those of the typical roach in size, and, on com-
parison, other constant anatomical differences are to be
seen. Some years ago I called attention to this fish as a

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 407

variety that closely approached the boundary of a " spe-
cies." Since then I have found these blue roach in Cross-
wicks Creek, and always in swiftly running, clear, cold
water. It would seem, therefore, that the fish varies in a
marked degree in accordance with its environment ; and
being a hardy species, capable of living almost anywhere,
that variation is necessarily considerable. Considered
from the evolutionary stand-point — the only rational one
— it is an instance of the instability of species, GO called,
and shows how little change is necessary to bring about
even permanent " specific " changes in the anatomy of a
fish. Once let there occur a decided change of habits,
and a change of structure will ultimately follow.

The next in importance among the cyprinoids, and
one exceeding the roach in size, is the beautiful fall-fish,
or rosy chub.

How great a change in habits may exist among the
fishes of a family can be seen when comparing the habi-
tat of this chub with that of a muddy-pool roach. No
water is too clear, too cold, too rapid for the chub. They
delight in stemming the swiftest currents of the river,
and die at once if confined in quiet, sun-warmed waters.
To find them in all their glory, I have but to go to the
swift ripples about the rocks in the river. Here they
congregate in large numbers in April and May, but wan-
der about singly later in the season. Except during the
spring months, they are not a social species, as is the
roach. Chub are not confined to the river, however, for
I find many of them wandering up Crosswicks Creek to
the limit of tide- water. Here they delight in deep holes,
and often I have caught specimens of the largest size by
carefully sinking a grasshopper into some known deep
hole in this creek.

408 RAMBLES ABOUT SOME.

Like all the cyprinoids, they are seen at their best
during the breeding-season, and then, indeed, their color-
ing is gorgeous — blue, purple, crimson, gold, and silver —
every tint brilliant, and all so blended as to produce a
most pleasing effect. The fish either realize their attract-
ive appearance at such times, or their unusual animation
is a happy coincidence. At all events, every movement is
in accord with their holiday attire, and no more interest-
ing sight beneath the water is to be met with than the
courtship of the rosy chubs.

Their courtship varies in nothing from that of the
diurnal fishes generally. The males simply display their
charms to the best advantage before the passive females,
resist the encroachments of every rival, and in a few days
have either chosen a mate, or been chosen — it is difficult
to say which. It is probable that the females express
their assent to the claims of such aspiring males as meet
with their favor, and then off they go. Those who have
carefully watched our fishes in spring see little difference
between their methods of courtship and that of our birds.

In one respect, however, the chub differs materially
from the birds and even many fish : it does not concern
itself with the care of its offspring. Once the eggs are
laid upon their bed of sand, all care as to their future
vanishes. So, too, does the mutual regard of the newly
mated pair. Leaving the spawning-ground, they are at
once utterly indifferent to each other.

I find it to be a common impression among those fish-
ermen who have given the subject any attention, that our
" shiners," as a class, do not pair, but go in mixed schools
to available spawning-grounds, where the ova are depos-
ited and fertilized in the most careless manner, and that
many of them are devoured by these same fish ; that many
are destroyed by floating to unsuitable localities ; and that

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 409

but a small proportion is really fertilized and sinks into
the sand, and is left undisturbed while the growth of the
embryo progresses.

"While I am satisfied that this is true of many of our
cyprinoids, if not the most of them, I am equally positive
that it is not true of the rosy chub. These, certainly, are
mated until the ova are deposited and fertilized, as I have
mentioned.

There is yet another chub that I find in the same
neighborhood, but the two are not associated in small
streams. It has so happened that wherever I find the
one, I never find the other. Why they will not associate
I do not know ; but when I have taken one each of these
two species, and placed them in an aquarium, I have
never seen any evidence of mutual dislike on their parts.

It has seemed to me that these comparatively dull-
colored chub are less particular as to the localities they
frequent, and can thrive fairly well in quiet and warm
waters. I have never found them in still-water ponds,
but so frequently in streams with but little current that
the change to a pond would not be a violent one. Like
the rosy chub, this plainer species, which is readily rec-
ognized by its smaller scales and black spot on the dorsal
fin, grows to a large size, and is therefore of some value
as food. Early in the year, particularly, the flesh is
firm and well flavored, and I have often thought that it
might be cultivated to advantage. Both species are car-
nivorous, but, as their food-supply is largely composed of
insects and minute mollusca, the difficulty of feeding
them, when placed in artificial ponds, would not be great.

There is but one brook within the limits of my ram-
bles wherein occur the beautiful red-fins, and even here

18

410 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

they are few and far between. In other brooks, four or
five miles away, however, I find them in great abundance,
and I often linger long by the babbling waters of the
Shabbaconk, for no other reason than to watch the gam-
bols of these cyprinoids, gorgeous in crimson and gold.
Unlike most of this family of fishes, the male red-fins
only present a brilliant coloring, and this they retain
throughout the year. The difference during the breeding-
season, from other times of the year, is in the greater
prominence of the little tubercles that thickly dot their
heads and upper jaw. These prickles are, in themselves,
of no beauty, and rather mar the general appearance of
the fish. Although prominent during the breeding-sea-
son, it is very questionable if their purpose is solely to
render their possessors more attractive in the eyes of the
females, as is evidently the case with bright coloring.
"When we know all about these prickles, their purpose
will, in all probability, be found to have nothing to do
with sexual attractiveness.

Red-fins are social the year through, and are seldom
seen except in schools. Unlike the commoner roach,
these fish separate in May, and for a while females will
be found in certain portions of a brook and males in an-
other. My attention was first called to this many years
ago, when I noticed, in shallow, rippling waters, hundreds
of male red-fins closely associated. The spot was fairly
purpled with their ruddy sides and fins gleaming in the
water. They filled a little basin in the brook, and showed
no disposition to leave. Being disturbed, they passed but
a short distance down the stream and resumed their close-
ly associated positions. There were probably a hundred
or more, and so close together did they keep that a space
not over two feet in diameter contained them all. Not
a female fish was among them. But they had been there,

BEIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 411

and deposited their ova, and the congregated male fish
were then upon the spawning-ground fertilizing these
deposits. Soon after, the sexes reassemble and lead a
restless but scarcely eventful life. The young are left
to shift for themselves, and to a certain extent are de-
voured by their parents. Professor Forbes * found but
one specimen in twenty-one that had eaten fishes, but can-
nibalistic propensities are not so uncommon here among
these fishes. Indeed, I find that all our shiners feed
more or less upon very young fishes of the same or allied
species. In speaking of the shiners, as a class, as carnivo-
rous, I think we are essentially correct, and that vegeta-
ble food is taken only when animal food is not readily
obtained, or because the two can not be dissociated. May
it not be that the mud found in the intestines of cypri-
noids was really teeming with life when swallowed, and
this afforded the nourishment needed by the fish ?

The various other minnows or shiners that I find, can
most profitably be considered in groups, for it appears
that the same localities attract various species of different
genera. A sweep of the net will often bring up repre-
sentatives of several natural groups ; for these cyprinoids,
while nearly the same in their habits, are very different
in their anatomical structure. Occasionally, however, I
have found a pool or a little stream teeming with indi-
viduals of but one or two species. Notably was this true
when I first met with the typical pug-nosed minnows.
These, so alike in general appearance, prove to be two
distinct species, and belong to different genera. The
great majority were those which, in the manual, are
called silvery minnows — which all minnows are — and the
others blunt-nosed shiners.

* " Illinois State Laboratory of Natural History," Bulletin No. 6, p. 84.
Normal, Illinois, 1883.

412 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

During the summer of 1873, with the assistance of
an enthusiastic friend, I fished a spring-pond, some dis-
tance from home, and caught nearly one thousand speci-
mens of the silvery minnows. From them I made the
following notes with respect to their size and appear-
ance : The adult size is probably five inches, and what is
of much interest to the student is the fact that the intesti-
nal canal is so very much longer than the fish. On care-
ful measurement of over one hundred specimens, I found
this length to vary to a certain extent, though it was
never less than five and one fourth times the length of
the fish. Unlike the other cyprinoids, the peritonaeum
in this species is uniformly and intensely black. The
food of this shiner I supposed to be wholly vegetable
matter ; and this would seem to indicate that when the
digestive tract exceeds the total length of the fish, the
species is herbivorous, and when of the same length, or
little exceeding it, that it is omnivorous, or carnivorous.
This, however, I do not find to hold good. Recent ex-
aminations of the intestinal tract showed a very large
percentage of animal matter, and not nearly so much
mud as Professor Forbes reports in his examinations of
Illinois specimens.

During the same summer I found a single specimen
of the blunt-nosed minnow. It was associated with the
preceding. The external differences were readily seen,
but, to make matters the more sure, I dissected it, and the
short digestive tract and silvery peritonaeum at once
showed that it was a wholly different species.

Since then I have frequently found them in numbers
in the canal and in still water in the river. Many often
collect in the eddies about the larger projecting rocks,
and fall a prey to the hungry schools of perch and rock-
fish. My attention was first called to the abundance of

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 413

these minnows in the river by finding remains of several
in the stomach of a rock-fish.

Neither of these minnows find their way into the
ditches in the meadows or into Watson's Creek, though
they often come up into Crosswicks Creek directly from
the river. They are never, however, so abundant here
as in the river above tide-water. Cool, clear, constantly
running water seems to be their natural home.

There is yet another group of shiners, which is repre-
sented in the streams near by, by four species. The
species of this group vary wonderfully in size, as one of
our largest shiners — the spawn-eater — and the very small-
est are included in it. This group has no common name
by which they are known. The term " minnow " or
" minnie " is that invariably applied to the smaller repre-
sentatives ; " shiner " to the larger species.

The largest of the four species in this natural group,
and one that is very common in the river, is the so-called
" spawn-eater." De Kay says of this species, " It is
called ' spawn-eater ' from an idea entertained by fisher-
men that it lives exclusively on the spawn of other fishes."
If this were true, it would be forced to fast about ten
months of each year, which would not suit fishes in this
neighborhood, for probably no animal consumes a greater
bulk of food in the course of a year than a fish.

The belief that these minnows are spawn-eaters has
no doubt arisen from the fact that the fish has a sucker-
like habit of feeling carefully over the bottom of the
stream with its peculiar " telescopic " mouth extended,
and so sucking up such food as it finds to its liking.
The examination of the stomachs of many specimens, at
different times of the year, shows that, like the common
roach, it feeds very largely on small Crustacea and the

4:14: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

minute mollusca adhering to stones and other stationary
objects in the beds of our streams. I am quite sure that
the charge of spawn-eating can not be laid to this fish
with more reason than to all other cyprinoids. Indeed,
without an exception, the ova of all other fishes are to
every species of fish a luscious morsel ; and I have seen
sufficient evidence to convince me that not only this spe-
cies, but all cyprinoids, are " spawn-eaters " to a certain ex-
tent ; but that the name is more deserved by any one spe-
cies over another, I strongly doubt.

Another shiner of this group, which has been favored
with no distinctive name, is very abundant in the rapid
water of the river, but appears never to seek the quiet
inland streams. The principal external difference char-
acterizing this shiner, when compared with the preced-
ing, is the more tapering snout and the more slender and
graceful outline of the whole body.

Some years ago, I found many of them in very swift
waters, at the mouth of the Assunpink Creek. They
seemed to be determined to go up the falls, and never
tired of making efforts to ascend, although, of course, they
made no progress. I captured a few and sent them to
an ichthyologist in Philadelphia, who pronounced them a
" new species," and gave them a Greek name ; but in the
manual they are said not to be "new," but old. To me
they are minnows of good size, great activity, and beau-
tiful color, and so they add a charm to the waters they in-
habit, and what more need one care to know ?

So much for the larger shiners of this group ; but
what of the smaller ones ? These also must be considered
collectively, for I never found the one species without
as many individuals of the other, and never saw a solitary
individual of either. Then, too, wherever these little min-

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 415

nows are found, there are sure to be a host of similar-
looking fish, but which, in consequence of some extra
wrinkle in their skins, are called by another and longer
scientific name. This need not concern us, however, as
they are all little minnows, the most diminutive of the
whole family of cyprinoids.

In every little water-way throughout the meadows,
as well as in the two creeks and the river, these three lit-
tle species of minnows are at all times extremely abun-
dant. They are the first to appear in open water when
the ice is disappearing, and they are the last to leave
their summer haunts when the ice binds every ditch and
brook in crystal fetters. Perhaps it is nearer the truth
to say that they are " on the go " the year through, as I
have recorded them as abundant at various times during
the three winter months.

While the social habits of these three small fishes
— none ever measuring two inches in length — clearly in-
dicate that they possess some rudiments of intelligence,
it is not easy to determine in what way they enjoy exist-
ence, if the term " enjoyment " is applicable to them.
I have watched schools of them for hours, and find that
their sole efforts are directed toward escaping dangers.
The three species, collectively, have more enemies than
any other creatures in the same neighborhood. No mam-
mal, bird, reptile, or amphibian, nor any species of fish, is
beset with half so many enemies. There is not a preda-
tory fish in the same waters that does not largely de-
pend upon them for food ; the young of larger cyprinoids
being, of course, available yearly but for a brief period.
Even the frogs seize them as eagerly as they do strug-
gling grasshoppers or chance insects ; the snakes and
turtles chase them eagerly, or take them by surprise, as
opportunity offers. If a receding tide leaves them in

416 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

shallow waters, birds of a dozen species eagerly litmt
them, and late in the spring, when after the freshets
chance pools become nearly or quite dry, mice and squir-
rels will feast upon the decaying bodies of these little
minnows, that may have escaped the searching glances
of our many birds. Even spiders have been known to
capture single specimens and lift them from the water.
Their principal safety appears to lie in taking refuge in
weeds, where they are not seen so readily. I found that
this was their principal method of avoiding the single
predatory fish I kept in the same tank with them. They
are not disposed to remain hidden, however ; and soon
after rushing pell-mell into a mass of weeds, they reap-
pear and face the dangers that they know confront them.
Where they feed and what they feed upon I can not say,
but their movements at times clearly indicate that they
find something to prey upon, but the objects are so small
that I could not detect them with the naked eye. This I
have tried by scooping up a bucket of water where the
minnows were feeding, but such efforts availed nothing.
I am satisfied that, small as they are, these little minnows
are carnivorous, and suggest that they have the power of
seeing such forms of animal life as can only be detected
by man with the aid of a microscope.

When these little minnows enter the more shallow
waters, in March and April, it will be noticed that the
coloring of about one half their numbers is more brill-
iant than during summer and autumn. The fins are even
rosy, and the lower lines of scales almost crimson. Early
in May this color begins to fade, and is soon replaced by
the characteristic silvery hue of the remaining months of
the year. This growth, climax, and fading of gorgeous
colors, which is confined to the male fishes, correspond
with the growth of the eggs in the females, and their

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 417

deposition. Just when this takes place I have not been
able to determine, nor whether it is preceded by the
building of a nest of pebbles, as we shall see is the case
with the equally common black-nosed dace, to which ref-
erence will be made on a subsequent page.

Passing through the meadows, over to Crosswicks
Creek, I often linger by one of the large springs issuing
from the hill-side, for the purpose of watching the score
or more of " silver-fins " that are always there. Although
these fishes are of a dull, silvery hue only, they are,
nevertheless, exceedingly beautiful. They have an inde-
scribable grace, and are very conspicuous from the satin-
white coloring of their fins. Found only in clear, rap-
idly-running waters, they are in all respects fit occupants
of such localities, and do not give the impression of being
intruders, as do the occasional roach or cat-fish that hap-
pen to wander into the same spring-brooks. A silver-fin
is as much at home in the spring-brooks as the trout it-
self.

The habits of this cyprinoid are essentially the same
as those of the red-fin, already described. They spawn
in May, depositing the ova in little basins of clean sand
in the bed of the stream, and there the eggs are left,
without a trace of subsequent attention from the parent
fishes. I believe the young fish are two years old before
they acquire the satin-white coloring of the fins which
makes them the most conspicuous of all our cyprinoids,
except the red-fins.

In less attractive places, but where the water has a
decided current and is moderately clear, as in the canal
and the river, there is another scarcely less attractive
minnow, which the author of the manual quite ignores.
This is the rosy minnow, that I first found, nearly ten
years ago, in the canal near here. In general appear-

418 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

ance it is more like the rosy minnow described years ago
by Professor Agassiz, than any other cyprinoid, though
it is quite different.

The first specimens that I found were collected late
in August, and the colors noted while they were in an
aquarium. The back is olive-green, the sides bright sil-
very; the scales generally marked with minute black
dots. As in the preceding, it is not the coloring but the
general appearance and grace of movement that make
this species so attractive and beautiful.

The name of rosy minnow is only applicable to the
male fish in spring, when the silvery sides become a
beautiful shade of red. This lasts, however, but for a
few weeks.

Since 18T3, when I first found these minnows, I have
collected many others, and always in the canal or river.
They do not appear to enter Crosswicks Creek at all,
though why they should prefer the canal to the creek and
the net-work of ditches, is a problem I will not attempt
to solve.

Associated with the above, in several instances, as I
find recorded in my notes, were individuals of a curious
cyprinoid, the "rosy dace" of the manual, and "pike-
shiner" of my memoranda. % These cyprinoids are of
great interest because they have a fierce, pike-like appear-
ance, and their habits are in accordance with their ap-
pearance. In other words, they are very suggestive of
evolution, and are, in fact, an apparent branching off
from the original stock.

To see these " pike-shiners," as the boys about here
call them, singly, moving deliberately about, at once re-
calls the pike ; and while I have never seen them catch a
fish and devour it, they do snap and swallow insects in the

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 419

most approved trout-like manner. Other cyprinoids do
the same, I know, but none have the pike-like quickness,
and I may add ferocity, of this species. This I thoroughly
tested by keeping several of them in my aquarium.
They quickly caused to disappear a score of the small min-
nows in the tank ; although I never could see them in
the act of molesting these smaller fishes.

They are not abundant, and I am not sure but that I
should have overlooked them had I not heard them
spoken of by juvenile anglers, who asked me if the fish
in question were " real shiners or some sort of a pike."
These boys had become familiar with a species of fish in
this neighborhood that had, up to that time, wholly es-
caped me. I have been less positive as to the extent and
accuracy of my knowledge of our fishes ever since.

The true dace, of which I find two species, are very
different in every respect from the preceding. One of
them, the black-nosed dace, is an exceedingly common
species, and is found in every brook arid ditch that has
anything of a current. Like the red-fins and silver-fins,
these dace must always be struggling up stream, and
darting, when frightened, down stream ; but in quiet
water they are at once lost, and, after moving restlessly
about in a vain endeavor to find a current, they give up
the effort and the ghost together.

Mr. C. F. Holder, from whom I have already quoted
in regard to other fishes, remarks of the black-nosed
dace : " In the warm weeks of June come the sterner
duties, the nesting-time ; male and female join in the
preparation, and the locality is selected, perhaps in some
running brook, in shallow water. Roots, snags, and
leaves are carried away, both sometimes tugging at a sin-
gle piece, taking it down stream, and working faithfully,

420 EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

until we, who are watching from the bank, despite the
strong protest of the ants, see a clearing over two feet in
diameter. Here the first eggs are deposited, and the
male, who has retired, soon appears from up-stream, bear-
ing in its mouth a pebble, that is placed among the eggs
that form a layer in the center of the clearing. Now
they both swim away, soon returning, each bearing a peb-
ble in its mouth that is dropped upon the eggs. Slowly
the work goes on, until a layer of clean pebbles apparent-
ly covers the eggs ; now the female deposits a second
layer of eggs, and more pebbles are brought, the little
workers scouring the neighborhood for them, piling up
stones and eggs alternately until the heap attains a height
of eight inches or more, formed in various shapes, some-
times pyramidal or dome-shaped — monuments of the
patience of these finny house-keepers. Who would sus-
pect their purpose? Even the gleaners of the golden
fields, in whose brooks our little friends are found, have
not discovered their secret, and think the curious piles
washings of the brook itself."

The other dace, the long-nosed species, is still more
dependent upon clear running water, and dies immediate-
ly if placed in still waters, as in an aquarium. Even
water kept cold with ice does not suit them. It must be
both cool and rapidly flowing.

There is but one brook within the range of my ram-
bles where the long-nosed dace is found, and here they
occur but sparingly. I have usually found them beneath
flat stones, or hidden by the overhanging banks of the
brook. The moment they are surprised, away they dart,
and seek shelter in some such place as I have mentioned.
For this reason they are difficult to capture, and being
but seldom seen, unless carefully looked for, they are
readily overlooked by the casual observer.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 421

The sixteen species of fishes that have been so briefly
referred to in the preceding pages are worthy of much
study, but collectively, rather than with a view of deter-
mining just in what particulars they differ among them-
selves. As a group, they are of much importance in the
economy of nature, as must necessarily be the case where
any animal exists in vast numbers in comparatively
crowded quarters.

During the past few summers I have studied these
fishes as a group, in the hope of discovering the influence
they exerted upon the general fauna of the locality, and
have reached the conclusion that the part that cyprinoids
play is mainly that of a check 'upon the undue increase
of lower forms of aquatic animal life. In consequence of
their vast numbers, they prevent the fouling of much
water that would otherwise become offensive, and yet do
not, of themselves, contaminate the water, however nu-
merous they may be.

Cyprinoids, as a class, are carnivorous, or more prop-
erly omnivorous ; and although with weak, toothless
jaws, the arming of their pharyngeal bones with power-
ful cutting and crushing teeth enables them to feed
upon animal substances as readily as do the predatory
species of fish. I judge that the great bulk of their
food is the minute animal life that teems in all water,
and also the small mollusca, of which they devour
enormous quantities. The result of my studies of such
of these fishes as I have kept in aquaria is, that young
mollusca are the favorite food of cyprinoids, for I found
it very difficult to so plentifully supply them as to sur-
feit the fish to which they were offered. It is in this
way, I believe, that the cyprinoids aid materially in
keeping our streams in that condition which we call
" pure."

422 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

From an evolution stand-point, these fishes are ex-
ceedingly interesting, and, I may add, instructive. By
a " species " let me here state that nothing is meant but
a convenient arrangement of the various forms of animal
life for purposes of study; and in the "species" of cypri-
noids is seen only so many varied forms evolved by natu-
ral selection from some primitive form of omnivorous
fresh-water fish, from which has sprung a variety of
forms, through a countless series of generations, that
have, each in its own place and time, become suited to
the particular haunts they chanced to frequent or were
forced to occupy. Considering a " species " in this way,
and also bearing in mind the amount of variation seen
among any considerable number of individuals of any
one species, and knowing that varieties are steadily be-
coming more and more differentiated and are thus enter-
ing what may be termed " specific territory," I claim that
it is not an unwarranted use of the imagination to picture
to one's self a primitive, typical cyprinoid, from which
the sixteen so-called " species " in this neighborhood have
been derived.

The Delaware River and its several tributaries in this
neighborhood are well supplied with that family of fishes
popularly known as " suckers " ; fish that are most nearly
allied to the cyprinoids proper, about which we have just
been speaking. I have always been puzzled to find the
merits of these great lubberly fish. The last considera-
tion in my mind, in studying animals, is their value as
food for man ; though even in this regard very little can
be said in favor of these abundant, but utterly stale, flat,
and unprofitable fish.

Inasmuch as these same suckers, or catostomoids, are
among the earliest of the river fishes to come up stream

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 423

in the spring, they should have a kindly word spoken of
them. Unfortunately, they come in such a stupid, list-
less manner, that no enthusiasm is roused in watching
them, as there is when the first flock of blackbirds
darkens the sky in March. When I see the suckers in
March moving slowly up the creeks, I always think of
the

" ten thousand men

That marched up-hill and then marched down again."
There does not appear to be any animation about them ;
no points of interest that stay our footsteps for a moment.
As an urchin of flve summers once remarked to me,
" Does they knows what they's come for ? " It is an open
question whether they do or not. I have found what I
take to be their bones in Indian shell-heaps on Crosswicks
Creek, and my only wonder is that the Indians should
have thought them lit to eat.

The manual, at hand, to which I refer for the most
recent nomenclature of the "species" found in these
waters, allows us five varieties of " suckers."

Of these there are two, known locally as " river suck-
ers," which throng the river and creeks in March and
then very generally disappear, or, in other words, return
whence they came, to the deep waters of the lower, tide-
water portion of the river. A third species, which my
neighbors call the " chub-sucker," is also found in the
river, but, unlike the others, is equally abundant the year
through. It is particularly obnoxious to those who are
fond of line-fishing, as it is believed to be, of all spawn-
eaters, the most persistent and destructive. I have en-
deavored to trace out the origin of this common impres-
sion, but without success. That it is true of it I doubt.
A still less abundant species of this group is that known
locally as the " mud-sucker." This local name is said by

4-24 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

the author of the manual to be inappropriate, and that
the fish frequents clear streams and rapids, and is not at
all a " mud-fish," as some writers seem to suppose. Now
it is very probably true that this fish is a " stone-roller "
out "West, but this does not prevent its poking into the
mud in the Delaware Yalley. Some years ago I found
a number of these fish in Cross wicks Creek, and noticed
their decided preference for the muddy bottom and com-
paratively still waters of certain portions of the creek ;
and in all the years since then, there has been nothing
noticed in their choice of locality that has led me to think
otherwise. In this same creek there is an abundance of
rapid waters and pebbly bottoms, but these are not fre-
quented more than the mud. Since the publication of
the manual, I have looked this up, and know whereof I
speak. For instance, one pleasant August afternoon in
1881, I slowly floated with the tide down the creek, and
carefully watched a number of these black suckers as they
were slowly swimming up the creek. They were all
moving in the same manner, with their noses thrust a
short distance into the mud, and they left behind them,
as they passed by, a shallow, wavy line in the mud,
which was easily traced through the clear waters. Had
I seen no fish, I should have taken these lines to have
been the tracks of moll asks.

Lastly, there is the omnipresent " mullet," and verily
I do not think there is a rod of shallow ditch, even, that
is not tenanted by a dozen of them. When young, they
associate with whatever cyprinoids happen to be wan-
dering in the same waters, their habits being essen-
tially the same. Unlike the other four " suckers " I have
mentioned, this fish, when young, thrives well in per-
fectly quiet water, and seems to suffer no inconvenience
when the July sun warms the still ponds to such a degree

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 425

that all the other fishes leave in disgust, and seek the
bubbling springs, or bury themselves in the mud. This
latter is a trick of many fishes that are not supposed to
have any liking for either mud or " thick " water.

Adult mullet differ from the young of one or two
summers in being strictly nocturnal. Throughout the
day they remain quietly at rest among the weeds in the
bottom of the creek or ditch, but on the approach of dark-
ness they are full of activity, and not only wander to and
fro through the water, but come to the surface and even
leap above it. The change is very great. It is during
this excited state, or throughout the night, that these fish
utter audible sounds which will be referred to in a subse-
quent page.

There are two well defined species of cat-fish common
to the river and creeks about here, and it often happens
that an apparent third species is found ; but this I am
inclined to consider is merely a hybrid.

Of these, the first is the common white cat-fish. This
is exceedingly abundant in the river and in all running
waters. Such localities it prefers — indeed, are essential
to it — and once out of them, it promptly suffers much
discomfort. It is due to this fact, I suppose, that it is
far less tenacious of life than the other species.

In the river, the white cat-fish, which by the way is
often glossy black, and sometimes mottled, is usually
found associated with the schools of white perch, when
the latter are coming up the river. The cat-fish, however,
do not migrate, as do the perch. So far as I have been
able to learn by questioning old fishermen, there is no
one time of the year when they are more abundant than
at others.

These fish, it would seem, have been utilized by some

426 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

who would fain foretell the character of the corning win-
ters. I have endeavored to trace the origin of many of
these " sayings," as already mentioned when speaking of
the squirrels and musk-rats, and I also tried to determine
how much truth might be contained in any of these so-
called signs. In not one of them has anything worthy
of credence been found. Here is a " weather sign " re-
ferring to cat-fish, which I have clipped from a newspa-
per. It is evidently as meaningless as are all such so-
called signs :

" How do you tell when it's going to be a cold win-
ter, Uncle Abe ?"

"I mostly tells by de fish. I been a fisher all my life,
ever since I been a little nigger so high, and if you no-
tice a cat-fish in de fall you will see dat sometimes de
skin on his belly is thick and sometimes it is thin.
When its thick dar's gwine to be a cold winter, an' when
it's thin dar's gwine to be a warm 'un. I never knowed
dat sign to fail."

" How is their skin this winter, Uncle Abe ? "

" I'm mighty sorry to say, chile, it's mighty thick."

The other and even more abundant cat-fish is the
"mud-cat," or, as my young friends invariably call it, the
"catty." This is essentially a meadow and "Watson's
Creek species with us, and it is almost as abundant, even
in the ditches, as the mullet.

However enthusiastic one may be, I can scarcely con-
ceive of any one becoming excited over a sleepy cat-fish,
as it lazily loafs over stretches of mud, and threads its
languid way through a forest of lily-stems. This, in fact,
about covers the range of its habits for fully ten months
of the year, as I have no reason to believe that cat-fish
hibernate ; at least, about here.

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 427

r-

During the months of May and June there is a
change for the better, and it is interesting to observe the
care then exhibited by the parent fish in guarding their
numerous progeny. Unlike the majority of our fishes,
who know nothing of their young, the cat-fish guard
theirs with much solicitude, and often brave great dan-
gers to extricate such of their young as may have fallen
into trouble. In thus caring for their offspring, they
remind one forcibly of a hen and her chickens. The old
fish scratches the mud, or rather roots it up, with as
much earnestness as a hen does the dunghill ; and the
young fish crowd about her head, as eager for something
edible as are the chicks for worms or seeds. The simi-
larity may extend further, and the old fish may cluck to
her young ; but of this I am not positive, though I am
inclined to believe it. That cat-fish have a fairly well
developed voice is unquestionable.

In order to test the patience and affection for their
young, possessed by this fish, I experimented in this
manner : With a scoop-net I captured nearly an entire
brood, and put them into a large glass globe, which I
covered at the top with fine sieving. Placing the globe
with its contents in the water, I was delighted to find
that the parent fish evidently recognized its offspring,
and was, as can well be imagined, in great trouble and
perplexity at their evident imprisonment, which was a
great mystery. The parent fish swam boldly up to the
glass, and was brought to a stand-still by the unseen bar-
rier which separated her from her young. So long as I
watched, the bewildered fish did not cease her efforts to
break through the mysterious something that prevented
her young from escaping. I left the globe in the water
through the night, and found early the next morning
that the faithful parent was still at her post. As the

428 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

confinement was proving fatal to some of the young fish,
I released them. The parent remained as near as she
dared, and as the young clustered about her she seemed
to give each a kindly greeting and no doubt a word of
advice, for no sooner was the globe emptied than the
whole brood surrounded their parent, and quickly swam
away in very compact ranks.

To this day, if fishes talk, the curious adventures of
that brood of cat-fish are surely related by the descendants
of those who were concerned in them.

I subsequently repeated this experiment with certain
variations, and with even more satisfactory results. I
placed the glass globe containing the brood of young cat-
fish on the bank of the stream from which they were
taken, and in full view of the parent fish, which was
greatly excited by being deprived of her charge. This
fish at once recognized that her young were not in the
creek although they were swimming in water. After a
variety of restless movements, its curiosity overcame its
discretion ; and it left the creek, and, as best it could,
made its way to the base of the globe containing her
young, a distance of about two feet. Here she remained
for nine minutes, quietly watching her brood, and then
returned to the water. In a few moments she returned,
having recovered from the effects of exposure to the air.
I now liberated the young cat-fish ; and they immediately
clustered about their parent and followed her into deep
water.

Wherever you find cat-fish it is quite certain that eels
also abound in equal or greater numbers. In most of
their habits the two species of fish are quite alike, when
in the same ditch or pond ; but the eel has this advan-
tage over the cat-fish, that it can leave the water when

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 429

it chooses and wander away to some new locality. To
what extent this power to live in the atmosphere for a
long time, and progress, snake-like, for long distances
through wet grass, explains their presence in small spring-
ponds without surface outlets, I do not know, but that
it bears directly upon this question can not be doubted.

In the spring of 1879, while watching the progress
of the work of grubbing and otherwise clearing a piece
of swamp-meadow, I was surprised to find a group of eels,
seventeen in number, in a mossy mass of earth and roots
of loose texture, through which water from a spring near
by freely circulated, but not in such quantities as to en-
able a fish to swim. These eels were not a tangled mass,
so interwrapped as to suggest the idea that they sought
contact with each other for mutual aid or warmth, but
each was twisted, rather than coiled, in quite a snake-
like manner by itself, and while each was very near its
neighbors, probably no two were in contact. On taking
them up — they varied from six inches to a foot in length
— they seemed somewhat sluggish and indisposed to es-
cape until revived, as it appeared, by the warmth of the
hand, when they struggled to be free ; and several es-
caped, as they were covered, as I subsequently found, by
an unusually thick coat of slime. Their movements over
the damp earth were quite unembarrassed, and I noticed
that while there was nothing to indicate the proximity
of running water, these escaping eels wriggled in a very
direct line for the nearest point at which they could
reach the ditch. I permitted them all to escape but two,
which I dissected. There was so small an amount of
matter in their stomachs and intestines, that they must
have been fasting during their semi-aquatic sojourn in
the spot where I found them.

Close examination showed that the spring-water did

430 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

not and had not run as a stream from or through this
spot ; and though it was submerged during unusually
high water, yet it was not possible that those eels had
reached here during a freshet, and had remained here
ever since, especially as it was more than a year since the
place had been under water. There was every indication
that these eels had voluntarily left the ditch, some fifty
feet distant, and sought out this spring-hole, which, owing
to its southern exposure and constant supply of water,
was certainly a comfortable spot. But the question
arises, Is this a common occurrence ? Furthermore, do
eels habitually hibernate, choosing ordinarily the soft,
muddy bottoms of our deeper ponds, and the tidal por-
tions of our rivers ? I know they are generally supposed
to do so, but the frequency with which I have taken
them when fishing in deep waters under the ice, has led
me to doubt whether the habit is as common as is sup-
posed.

It is fitting that my notes on our common fishes
should terminate with the rarest of them all, the gar,
which of late years is but rarely seen in the Delaware or
its tributaries. 'Not only are they seldom seen now, but
I find no reference to them in the writings of such early
travelers as took an interest in the fauna of the country.

The gar should not be confounded with the bill -fish,
which is also called "gar " by many of our fishermen.

The true gar is found in the river all the year round,
and occasionally a big fellow wanders into Crosswicks
Creek, near by, and here I have occasionally been fortu-
nate enough to see them.

As to their habits, so far as I am concerned, there is
not much to be said. They are much like the pike, re-
main much of the time half concealed in the river-weeds,

BRIEF NOTES ON FISHES. 431

and when a small fish comes near, dart at and seize it
with all the agility of that fish. Sometimes they seize a
large chub midway across the body, and worry it nearly
into halves by a slight motion of the jaws. When satis-
fied that the chub can not escape, they loosen their hold,
and, taking it in a more convenient manner, they swallow
it without further preliminary carving. Zadoc Thomp-
son, in his " History of Vermont," refers to^the feeding
habits of the gar as follows : " This singular fish was de-
scribed by Samuel Champlain as an inhabitant of the lake
now bearing his name, more than two hundred years ago.
He called it Chausarou, which was probably the Indian
name. The Indians assured him they were often seen
eight or ten feet long, but the largest he saw was only
five feet long, and about the thickness of a man's thigh.
It is considered a very voracious fish, and when any of
them are taken or seen in the water, the fishermen calcu-
]ate upon little success in taking other kinds. Charle-
voix tells us that he preys not only upon other fishes, but
upon birds also ; and that he takes them by the follow-
ing stratagem : concealing himself among the reeds grow-
ing on the marshy borders of the lake, he thrusts his
bill out of the water in an upright position. The bird,
wanting rest, takes this for a broken limb or dry reed,
and perches upon it. The fish then opens his mouth and
makes such a sudden spring that the bird seldom es-
capes him. Charlevoix also assures us that the Indians
regarded the teeth of this fish as a sovereign remedy
for the headache, and that pricking with it where the
pain was sharpest took it away instantly." I must con-
fess I have my doubts about this stratagem on the part of
the gar, but if it was true of them in Charlevoix's time,
is it at all probable that they have lost the art since ? On
the other hand, if gars were so smart then, were other

432 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

fishes equally cunning, and have they all become less
knowing in their ways 'i

There seems to be an impression that the gar is a
fresh-water fish exclusively, but this is a grave error. I
have learned from observing fishermen that many more
are caught in the brackish waters of Delaware Bay than
higher up the river. Whether they ever pass out to sea
I do not know, but certainly they often go to the very
dividing line between the bay and the ocean proper.

My last opportunity of seeing a living gar was late in
the summer of 1880. My attention was attracted to it by
its coming to the surface and discharging a great mass of
air, which formed bubbles on the water. Then the fish
floated for several minutes, lying so near the surface that
a small portion of his entire length appeared to be out of
water. Suddenly he rolled over and disappeared. An
hour later, I saw what I suppose was the same fish, go
through the same motions, about one hundred yards
from the spot where I first saw him. The habit of
coming to the surface to discharge air seems to be com-
mon to them, but in the few instances that I have seen
there was no sound made at the same time, so far as I
could determine.

CHAPTEE XXXYII.

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES.

IN Pescliel's volume on " The Kaces of Man," I find
the following paragraph, and it seems a fitting text where-
with to preface a few remarks on the subject of indica-
tions of voice in some of our fishes. He says : " If speech
be but the means of communicating emotions or inten-
tions to other beings, even invertebrate animals possess
faculties of the same nature. We see insects, such as
ants, which live in so-called communities, carrying out
elaborately preconcerted warlike undertakings and attacks.
A beetle, which in rolling the ball of dung inclosing its
egg has allowed it to slip into a hole from which it is un-
able to extricate it, flies away, to return in a short time
with a number of assistants sufficient to push the ball up
the sides of the declivity by co-operation of labor. These
creatures must, therefore, unquestionably possess some
means of communicating with each other concerning this
combination. It requires no long observation of our song*
birds to distinguish the different tones by which they
warn their young of danger, or call them to feed, or by
which they attract each, other to pair. These animals,
therefore, have at their control a certain number of sig-
nals which are quite adequate to procure for them some
few of the wants of their life, and these signals, as far as
we can at present guess, have been acquired and inherited
in the same manner as were their instincts."

19

434 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Although we are all familiar with the lazy drum-fish
of our coast — and some may have heard those grunting
sounds that have given this species its common name —
the little fishes of our inland brooks and the more preten-
tious denizens of our rivers are looked upon as voiceless
creatures, so that if they have ideas, they must express
them by movements entirely, not of one portion, but of
the whole body. In fact, however, the conditions that
obtain among insects and birds, as mentioned in the quo-
tation from Dr. Peschel, are, in a measure, applicable to
some of our fishes ; at least, in my studies of the habits
of our more common species, I have been led to believe
that certain sounds made by these fishes are really vocal
efforts, and that their utterance is for the purpose of ex-
pressing an idea ; and, furthermore, I am of the opinion
that these sounds are closely connected with their breed-
ing habits, although I have heard them at other seasons.

Probably no one has failed to notice the brilliant col-
ors of the restless red-fin, as it darts to and fro through
the clear waters of a crystal brook, or the bright orange-
tinted fins of the silvery roach, that ere summer has
passed pale to dull yellow and lose all their glow ; but
while with all our fishes there is at one time of the year
a deepening of every tint, this is in no wise comparable
to the gorgeous hues Nature has vouchsafed to a certain
few. My studies of the habits of these common fishes
have led me to think that the bright colors of spring-time,
which are analogous to the breeding plumage of male
birds, might possibly bear the same relationship to vocal
sounds that the songs and plumage of birds do to each
other. With but few exceptions, our finest songsters are
dull-colored birds. Have our plainer-tinted fishes a com-
pensation for this attraction of color in the ability to ut-
ter sounds ?

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES.

435

After several summers spent in observing the breed-
ing habits of these common fishes, I have ventured to
form two tables, relating to the breeding habits and their
connection with the color and supposed voice of sixteen
species of fresh-water fishes. In the first of these, I have
simply separated them into bright and dull-colored spe-
cies ; the bright coloration referring to the breeding
dress or spring tinting. In the second list, I have sepa-
rated them according to their supposed vocal powers ;
and it will be seen on comparison that a combination of
voice and conspicuous coloring does not occur.

TABLE I.

JSrilliant Colors.
Yellow perch.
Common simfish.
Eiver sunfish.
Red-fin.

Dull or Silvery.
Pirate.
Mud sunfish.
Gizzard shad.
Mullet.
Eel.

Cat-fish.
Lamprey.
Sturgeon.

TABLE II.

Supposed Vocal Power.
Pirate.
Mud sunfish.
Gizzard shad.
Mullet.
Lamprey.
Cat-fish.
Eel.
Sturgeon.

Voiceless.
Yellow perch.
Common sunfish.
River sunfish.
Banded sunfish.
Chub.
Roach.
Red-fin.
Pike.
Bill-fish.

We have here enumerated four species that are brill-
iantly colored, and eight that are dull or simply silvery ;
and of the former, none are believed to have any voice

436 RAMBLES ABOUT SOME.

proper, while of the eight of the right hand, all are be-
lieved to be so endowed. In the right-hand column of
Table II, it will be noticed that among the " voiceless "
species are included the four highly-colored fishes and
five others, all of silvery tints, which I have carefully
studied, and which have no habit, so far as I could dis-
cover, that would separate them from the species that are
without a voice. We can then scarcelv avoid the concln-

w

sion, that with fishes as with birds the brilliantly-colored
males, as a rule, are mostly if not wholly dependent on
their hues to attract the females during the amatory sea-
son.

Those who may be familiar with the common chub
will doubtless urge, as an exception, that the peculiar
grunting sounds made by it wrhen taken from the water
entitle it to a place among the fishes that are supposed to
have a voice. Cope, in his " Cyprinidae of Pennsylvania,"
sajs, " When taken from the water, it (the chub) utters a
chirruping and croaking noise, more like a voice than
any sound heard from any other fresh-water fish of our
region." I have not, however, been able to detect this
sound except when removed from the water, and as the
fish is then out of its proper element and struggling, it
may be involuntary. The deep-bronze and golden-green
tints of the mud sunfish, too, might be urged as a case of
high coloration and a sexual attraction, and so it should
be voiceless ; but this fish, of all those observed by me,
has been the one most frequently to utter sounds volun-
tarily when confined in an aquarium. I doubt not there
are very many exceptions, and one great objection to the
suggestions I have made is that there probably is too great
an array of opposing facts. But to refer once more to
the case of birds. Assuming the correctness of evolution,
as I do, then, we need go back but a very short period in

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 437

geological time to see the numerous species of our birds
reduced to single representatives of each genus, and even
far fewer of so-called genera. With the avifauna thus
simplified, the differences that now exist between our
somber-hued songsters and the gayly-colored songless
birds were more distinctly drawn ; and this may have
been true also of our fishes. The vast influence brought
to bear upon all animals by their surroundings, and the
increasing struggle for existence, has evolved in later
times, and ever is evolving, innumerable variations in the
forms of life ; and these changes have in so great a meas-
ure obscured the conditions that once characterized both
our birds and fishes, in the matter of the relationship of
voice and color, that what I believe to have been once a
well-marked feature of animal life is now traced with
difficulty. Nevertheless, the many instances of apparent
voice that I have noticed, and their relationship to color,
induce me to believe that what is now scarcely a rule,
perhaps, among fishes, was once a law that governed
them.

In studying these same fishes in another phase of their
habits, we see that, while all the species enumerated are
more or less active throughout the day, some of them
are far more so at night, and shun, if undisturbed, the
glare of the midday sunshine. These partially if not
strictly nocturnal species are those that I have considered
as having the power to give out or utter a truly vocal
sound, and they are the more plainly colored species.
The brilliant tints being of little or no use by night, ne-
cessitates the diurnal habits of those fishes possessing
them, while the nocturnal species, with a voice as a com-
pensation for the lack of color, are enabled to carry on a
courtship in part by its aid, which would be of little or
no use during the day.

438 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Having given an outline of the conclusions reached
on the supposed relationship of voice and color among
certain of our common fresh-water fishes, let us consider
in detail the characteristic habits of two of the best known
and most widely differing species of the lists. As repre-
senting the voiceless but gayly-colored fishes, let us take
the common suntish, and, on the other hand, the equally
familiar cat-fish as an instance of a fish that has the power
of uttering a sound — that has the rudiments of a voice.

With the bursting of the leaf -buds and disappearance
of the ice from the shady nooks of our quiet inland
ponds, the gayly-tinted sunfish, which all winter long has
been lazily loafing in the deeper waters, polishes up his
old coat until it looks as well as new, and, coming boldly
to the sunny shallows, he darts restlessly about, an object
of admiration to himself, and, what is of more importance,
to others as well, and before the flowers of May have
faded he has succeeded in getting a mate. But the
courtship of this gaudy fish has been no easy matter.
Hundreds of his kind, as bright as he, have, like him,
striven by the hour to clear the field of every rival ; and
the clear waters are often turbid with sand and grass torn
from the bed of the stream, as the older males chase each
other Lfrom point to point, endeavoring by a successful
snap to mutilate each other's fins. No courtship battles
among birds are more earnestly fought, and as the bird
with bedraggled feathers is wise enough to withdraw
from the contest and quietly seek a mate when his soiled
plumage is in part restored, so the sunfish with torn
fins retires from the contested nesting- ground. But not
a sound has been made by these excited fishes except that
of the rippling water when cut by their spiny fins as they
chanced to reach above the surface. Never, when for a
moment quiet, have I chanced to see the delicate chain

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 439

of silvery bubbles that escape from the mouth of the
mud sunfish when, shall I say, calling to its mate. At
night, I believe, the sunfish rests from his labors. I
have not been able to detect any of his spring-time vivaci-
ty after sunset, and hence I am led 'to conclude that his
sole dependence in securing a mate is in his brilliant
coloring.

What a contrast is presented in the lazy, dull-colored
cat-fish that slowly wanders over the muddy bed of the
stream ; if perchance he is moving about at all during the
day ! Not a motion can be detected that is not referable,
without doubt, to so prosaic a matter as the search for
food. If a dozen or more come together, it is but to
hunt in concert, and nothing of the nature of a contest is
to be seen. But after sunset every one of them becomes
suddenly more animated, and there is a marked restless-
ness in every movement, as they congregate in large num-
bers in some limited area. At such a time, their presence
is to be detected not only by the aid of submarine lan-
terns, and all the troublesome helps that one must employ
to study fishes at night, but there is an opportunity given
to use the ears as well as eyes, and by careful, patient
watching and waiting we may hear, even from the deeper
waters, a gentle humming sound which, if noticed at all,
would by most people be referred to the insect-life teem-
ing about them. If, knowing or suspecting the true origin
of this gentle murmur, we can, without alarming the fish,
float our boat directly above them, we will find that scores
of chains of little air-bubbles are rising to the surface ; and
as the sound increases or dies away, in proportion to the
abundance or absence of the bubbles, it is safe to refer it
to the fishes, which produce it by voluntarily expelling
the air from their bodies.

I have not the space here to enumerate all the cir-

440 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

cumstances connected with these supposed voluntary
emissions of sound by certain of our fishes, eight species
of which I have particularly mentioned. Brief references
to the others must here suffice. Concerning the first
mentioned of our little list, the spineless perch or pirate,
my knowledge has been largely derived from aquarial
studies ; and although the diminutive size of the largest
specimens obtained renders it difficult to ascertain whether
the sound accompanied the expulsion of air from their
bodies, I have always felt quite sure that I detected it,
and the actions of the fish, when the sexes were separated
by fine sieving in the aquarium, were such as to make it
highly probable that there was a sound made by the male
fish which was heard by the females.

Of the percoid which I have called the " mud sun-
fish " there is no doubt. Not only in the muddy brooks
where it is mostly found, but also when confined in an
aquarium, this fish will utter at times a deep grunting
sound that can not be mistaken. That it is voluntary,
too, is evident from the quick, nervous movement of the
whole body, and the wide distention of the gill-covers that
accompanies the act. These sounds, and those made by
the cat-fish, first called my attention to the subject of
voluntary production of sound or " voice " in fishes. Like
the spineless perch, this sunfish is, I think, strictly noc-
turnal in its habits, and, from aquarial observations, I am
led to believe that it chooses a mate, and accompanies
her to the nest for ovipositing only at night.

Of that interesting fish, the landlocked gizzard-shad,
my observations have led to the detection of a very audi-
ble whirring sound, not unlike the deeper notes of a
coarse string of an seolian harp. Others of the herring
tribe, and particularly our shad, have likewise the power
of emitting sounds that are distinctly audible, and vary

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 441

but little from that described as uttered by the gizzard-
shad. Those who may have noticed the vibrating noise
made by the wind passing by a number of telegraph
wires, will have heard a sound nearly identical. I judge
that both sexes utter this sound in concert ; but it may
be that during the early spring the sexes separate, to come
together again some time later when spawning com-
mences, and, in such a case, that only the males " sing."
This, however, is scarcely probable in the case of a non-
migratory, land-locked species.

The mullet or chub-sucker is another example of those
dull-colored, nocturnal fishes that frequent streams with
muddy beds thickly overgrown with water-plants, and
which have the power of audibly forcing air from their
bodies. In April, with a noticeable deepening of their
coloration, there is increased activity in every movement,
and, wholly unlike their actions by day, at night they
swim quite near the surface, and utter a single prolonged
note, accompanied by a discharge of air bubbles. They
appear to project their jaws just above the water, and
force the air from beneath their gill-covers immediately
below the surface, as there are two parallel streams of
bubbles. When seen in the moonlight, these bubbles
appear like minute silver beads. Swimming in this way,
the mullet will often proceed a hundred yards, uttering
their peculiar " call " four or five times while passing
over that distance.

In the lamprey we have a semi-nocturnal species that
I have had but few opportunities of observing closely, as
it frequents rapidly-running water, and spends much the
greater portion of its time under flat stones. On two
occasions I have watched them, when mated, and thought
that they uttered a peculiar sound, quite unlike any other
" fish-note " I had heard ; but it was unaccompanied, so

442 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

far as I could determine, by a chain of air-bubbles rising
to the surface, as is always seen to accompany the sound
uttered by the chub-sucker or cat-fish. This same noise,
or one very similar, was made by them when captured
and taken from the water, and in both instances may
have been involuntary. From their peculiar anatomy
they are an exceedingly interesting species with reference
to the subject of voice ; and I regret that my experience
when keeping them in an aquarium did not confirm my
suspicions when studying them in their proper habitat.
When my lampreys were in an aquarium, I occasionally
heard a prolonged buzzing sound that had many charac-
teristics of what I have considered voice in other species,
but it wras too monotonous and protracted to be consid-
ered a voluntarily produced sound or vocal effort. If
the more voice-like sounds heard, as mentioned, are char-
acteristic of their breeding season, then it probably is
strictly a " love-call," and certainly, when mated, these
fishes are very amorous.

In all the instances so far mentioned, of voluntarily
expressed sounds or utterances of fishes, they have been
referred to in connection with their ordinary breeding
habits ; not that they are never heard at other times, but
because these "calls" or "songs," or whatever they
should be considered, are a marked feature of that sea-
son. In our common eel we have an instance of a fish
possessing unmistakable evidences of voice, yet which
may be said to have no breeding season, at least when
found far inland. Without inquiring into the particulars
of the recently ascertained breeding habits of the eel, it
is sufficient here to say that, in countless thousands, they
pass from the sea up our rivers, through the most insignifi-
cant inland brooks and often into isolated ponds. From
these ponds they seldom wander, although not nccessa-

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 443

rily prisoners, even if direct water connection is broken.
In these ponds they grow to a large size and live to a
great age ; yet summer after summer passes without any
indication of their breeding. !No species of fresh- water
fish is more strictly nocturnal in its habits, and none are
so easily studied, inasmuch as at night they are not only
very active, but keep continually near the surface. In
the matter of voice, eels utter a more distinctly musical
sound than any other of the fish I have mentioned. It
is a single note, frequently repeated, ,and has a slight
metallic resonance. I have heard this sound only at
night, and never when they are taken from the water by
day, as when captured by a hook, so that I presume it is
not involuntary. When a large number of eels are con-
gregated in a small space, as when feeding on some dead
animal, I have heard this note very frequently repeated,
and from the volume of sound 1 judge that large eels
only utter a note that is distinctly audible. It is well
known that this fish occasionally leaves the water volun-
tarily and wanders a considerable distance to other streams
or ponds ; and when through protracted droughts a pond
becomes quite dry, while other fishes perish, the eels
suffer little inconvenience, as, snake-like, they crawl at
night over a considerable stretch of land, guided by some
undetermined sense to the nearest water. At such times
the eel will occasionally utter this same clear note, espe-
cially if surprised. From what I have been able to de-
termine concerning these overland journeys, they are
undertaken only when the grass is well moistened with
dew, and a surface of any extent devoid of thick vege-
tation is an effectual barrier to their progress. I would
add that I have noticed, when "bobbing" for eels, or
catching them in a manner that inflicts no injury to their
mouths, that when squirming about the bottom of the

4A4: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

boat they not ^infrequently utter tins same sound, not
inaptly compared, perhaps, to the faint squeak of a
mouse.

I have given one instance, that of the common sun-
fish, of a fish that is strictly a diurnal species, of bright
coloration, and that passes through the various phases of
courtship and nidification without uttering a sound ; and
on the other hand, more or less in detail, referred to sev-
eral other fishes that are all of dull coloration, are noc-
turnal in their habits, and, whether voluntarily or not,
certainly at times do utter sounds. They can not be
considered as simply making such a noise as would
result from certain muscular movements. The action
that produces the sound, on the contrary, I have been
led to believe is intentionally performed in order that the
sound may result, and the fish intends it as a call, which
is responded to by those hearing it, and for whom it was
intended.

When we carefully study the entire ichthyic fauna of
a given locality, say of a given stream, as I have done in
this case, there will undoubtedly be found some excep-
tions to this supposed rule of dissociation of coloration
and voice ; but these may be less in number than appear
to us, when we consider how many species are found in
every stream that are so diminutive that it can not be
determined to which class they really belong. Thus,
while many are dull-colored and doubtless possess voice,
it is too faint for us to hear; but, from the -fact that this
peculiarity can be determined in some of the larger spe-
cies, it is not improbable that in earlier geological eras
fishes generally were of somber tints, and possessed more
marked vocal powers than at present, and that, in the
subsequent differentiation of genera and species, color
was more and more evolved as a generic character, and

TRACES OF VOICES IN FISHES. 445

voice became proportionately less a feature of our fishes,
but was retained in some, and reappears in still stronger
development in those connecting links between fishes and
higher vertebrates, culminating in the batrachians, where
it is perfected by the presence of a larynx.

Professor J. C. Galton has, in the "Popular Science
Review " for October, 1874, most scientifically discussed
this whole subject, and a brief quotation from his able
paper is a fit ending to my scanty notes on this most in-
teresting phase of animal life. He writes : " Not only is
there every reason to believe that the majority of sounds
produced by fishes are not casual utterances, but are truly
voluntary, but there is among such as give vent to them
a most remarkable development of the organs of hearing
in all essential particulars, for example, in the semicir-
cular canals, otoliths and nerves, correlative with the
degree of perfection of the instrument. Further than
this, as the sounds generally excel in frequency and in-
tensity at the breeding season, it will not be unreasonable
to regard them — granting, as we do, that the chirp of the
cricket and the croak of the frog is each in its way an
alluring serenade — as nuptial hymns, or, to use language
ascribed to Plutarch, as ' deafening epithalamia.' More
than this : seeing that the carp, and others of the same
family, have given unmistakable proofs of their aptitude
to receive some rudiments of education, and in particular
to perceive certain sounds, it can yet be possible that the
moral admonitions of a St. Anthony of Padua — by many
still regarded as a work of supererogation — may, no less
than the amorous twang of the vesical zither, after all
not have fallen upon totally deaf ears."

APPENDIX.

LIST OF THE MAMMALS, BIRDS, REPTILES, BATRACHIANS,
AND FISHES OF MERCER COUNTY, NEW JERSEY.

MAMMALS.

Wild-Cat. Lynx rufus.

Occasional. At the time of the settlement of this neighborhood
by European colonists, wild-cats were very abundant, as the refer-
ences thereto by early writers indicate. A century later they were
not abundant except at long distances from the settlements. Kalm
(1749) refers to them as common to the mountainous regions up the
valley of the Delaware. Referring to the abundance of deer in
that region, he remarks : " Among their enemies is the Lynx of this
country (New Jersey). . . . They climb up the trees, and, when
the stags pass by, they dart down upon him, get fast hold, bite, and
suck the blood, and never give over till they have killed it." In
what is now Sussex County, New Jersey, and Pike County, Penn-
sylvania, on the opposite side of the river, wild-cats are still to be
found, but are by no means abundant.

The domestic cat returns to a feral state much more commonly
than is supposed, and the offspring of such cats are noticeably
larger, fiercer, and more active than any tame cats that I have ever
seen. I am even strongly inclined to believe, but will not be posi-
tive, that the offspring in the third generation are always of a uni-
form blue- gray color.

These domestic cats " run wild," and their offspring are quite as
arboreal as the true Lynx rvfus.

Weasel. Putorius vulgar is.

Common. This species is also known as the " little weasel " by
those who can distinguish it from the following.

448 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Weasel. Putorius ermineus.

Common. I have recently learned of several instances where
weasels have taken up their abodes in the cellars of houses situated
on the outskirts of towns. While unable to climb as readily as can
the rat, the weasel will, when once established where rats are abun-
dant, either destroy them or frighten them away. The same is true
of them in the country ; and I doubt if the farmer is not profited
more by the lessening of the numbers of rats and mice than he
loses, on the other hand, by the destruction of a few chickens in the
course of a year.

Mink. Putorius vison.
Skunk. Mepliitis mephitica.

Otter. Lutra Canadensis.

In some localities, even though thickly settled, otters seem to be
increasing in numbers. During the summer the dense vegetation
affords them sufficient cover, and, being exceedingly cunning, they
are able to baffle pursuers, whether men or dogs. In the winter,
however, the odds appear to be against them, and quite a number
are reported as trapped or shot during this time of year.

Raccoon. Procyon lotor.

This animal is still found in the more unsettled parts of the
county, but can not be said to be anywhere abundant. It is noc-
turnal in habit, and cunning enough to keep away from dogs ; and
so often lives for months near a farm-house without its presence
being suspected.

Little Brown Bat. Vespertilio subulatus.
Silvery Bat. Vespertilio noctivagans.
Carolina Bat. Vespertilio fuscus.

Little Red Bat. Atalapha Novceboracensis.

The last of this series of bats is by far the most abundant, and,
unlike the others, is less sensitive to changes of weather. It is the
latest to disappear on the approach of winter ; often flies at noon-
day, in midwinter, if the day is warm and not too bright ; and the
earliest to appear in spring.

Mole. Scalops aquaticus.

My observations of this animal lead me to believe that the specific

APPENDIX. 449

name of "aquations" is essentially inappropriate. With ns, the
animal is confined to the highest and driest of our upland fields, and
appears to have a decided aversion even to damp soils.

Hairy-tailed Mole. Scapanus Breweri.

This species is far less common than the preceding, and of late
years I have seen no specimens of it.

Star-nosed Mole. Condylura cristata.

This curious animal is essentially an aquatic species, as observed
by me. It frequents only the low, wet meadows, in which it bur-
rows as extensively as the scalops does in the upland. I have occa-
sionally found openings to its burrows beneath the surface of the
water, and know, from recent observation, that the animal is an
excellent swimmer.

I am convinced that this species hibernates, and often the mead-
ows in which its winter nests are situated are covered with water
for from two to four days at a time. Such periods of submergence
do not appear to affect the hibernating moles in any way ; but a sum-
mer freshet of like duration invariably proves fatal to great numbers
of them.
Shrew. Blarina ~brevicauda.

The statement made in the body of the book, that I have never
found a shrew near home, no longer holds good; but I let it stand,
for the fact that I have recently seen and captured a specimen is all
that I can say. On the 10th of August, 1883, my son brought me a
dead shrew which he had found, and on the 30th of September fol-
lowing, while listening to the rose-breasted grosbeaks that were
singing in the woods near by, I saw a small mammal leap by me.
Its movements were not like those of a mouse, and I gave chase.
It endeavored to hide in the heaps of loose dead leaves, but was
easily captured. It proved to be a short-tailed shrew, and is the
only living specimen I have ever seen.

Flying Squirrel. Sciuropterus volucella.

I have recently had my attention called to the small size of the
flying squirrels found here, as compared with the dimensions given
by Audubon and Bachman, Godman, and others. It would certainly
seem as if they had shrunken considerably during the past fifty
years. Is this due to the fact that food is less abundant and the en-
vironment less favorable ?

450 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Gray Squirrel. Sciurus Carolinensis.

It is but very seldom that a black squirrel is now seen in this
neighborhood, but formerly they were very common. Family papers
in my possession, dating back a century and a half ago, refer to
"damages to crops caused by troops of great black squirrels."

Red Squirrel. Sciurus Hudsonius.

The general destruction of heavy growths of timber has caused
this destructive squirrel to become comparatively scarce. They arc
often more abundant, however, than we suppose. This fact was
forcibly brought to my attention during the past summer, when a
pair of them were found nesting in a hollow locust-tree within ten
steps of my front door. These squirrels had evidently been several
weeks in this tree, yet no one had seen them. Subsequent observa-
tions revealed the fact that this particular pair were essentially cre-
puscular in their habits, and even in the gloaming, when they
chanced to go abroad, their movements were exceedingly stealthy
until they felt that they were well out of sight and hearing. Did
not these squirrels realize the danger of living so near an occupied
house, and act with unusual caution in consequence of such fear? I
think so.

Chipmunk. Tamias striatus.

This common mammal appears to be increasing in numbers.

"Woodchuck. Arctomys monax.

Although so common in most localities, few are found in Mercer
County.

Jumping Mouse. Zapus Hudsonius.

While probably the fact that this species is strictly nocturnal
makes it appear less abundant than it really is, still it is certainly
nowhere to be found in great numbers. I think no one will be
likely to find more than one or two pairs during a summer, although
Dr. Godman remarks that " it breeds very fast, and may occasion-
ally become injurious to the farmer."

White-footed Mouse. Hesperomys leucopus.

Albinism is quite common with this species, both partial and
complete.

Meadow Mouse. Arvicola riparius.

That there are two or three species of so-called mice, other than

APPENDIX. 451

the above, found in this neighborhood, is highly probable ; but, as
stated in the body of the work, I have not been able to identify
them.

Muskrat. Fiber zibetJiicus.

Kalm mentions the well-known habit of the muskrat, of eating
the ordinary river mussels (unios), and intimates their depending
largely upon them for food. Godman does not refer to this, but
states that their food is wholly vegetable matter ; adding, u It has
been imagined that this animal feeds also upon fish ... an
opinion which the structure of the teeth, stomach, and intestines
sufficiently contradict." De Kay, on the other hand, says, " It is
also extremely fond of the fresh-water mussel {unio), heaps of
which, in a gnawed and comminuted state, may«be found near their
retreats. As a matter of fact, the muskrat not only consumes quan-
tities of mussels, but other animal matter whenever it can be ob-
tained. I have knowledge of their seizing ducklings and dragging
them to their burrows, and have seen them in a mill-pond quarrel-
ing over the remains of a dog that had been drowned."

Eabbit. Lepus sylvaticus.

Of the few mammals of considerable size still to be found in
long-settled neighborhoods, the rabbits seem best to have withstood
the encroachments of man upon their haunts and the persecution
of a host of enemies. They are probably as abundant as a century
ago, benefiting more by the destruction of their natural enemies,
than suffering from the persecution of man and dogs.

Opossum. Didelphis Virginiana.

During the past three or four years these animals have increased
quite rapidly in numbers, and become less wary, or at least frequent
localities that are less well adapted to shield them by day than are
their usual woodland haunts. As an article of food they are highly
prized by many ; but their merits as such seem to me largely over-
stated. While not disposed to regularly hibernate, they can sleep for
weeks without food.

BIRDS.

Dr. William P. Turnbull, in preparing his classical
" Birds of East Pennsylvania and New Jersey," * remarks

* " The Birds of East Pennsylvania and New Jersey." By William P.
turnbull, LL. D. Glasgow : Printed for private circulation. 1869, 4to.

452 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

in his preface : " From the geographical position of the
district it is particularly favorable for observation, being
the resort, at some period of the year, of a large proportion
of the birds of this continent; and, from the fact of its
being the temporary resting-place of most of the migratory
birds, there is probably no district of the same extent in
this country that is frequented by sifch a number of species.
A considerable number of our summer visitants from the
Gulf States and Mexico appear to make it their northern
limit, while other flocks remain only a short period in spring,
and migrate still further north, penetrating as far as British
America to breed ; and these again arrive in autumn on
their return journey to their winter retreats. It may like-
wise be noted that the district is the southern limit of many
species which breed at Hudson's Bay and the fur countries,
and pass the winter on the Delaware and Chesapeake, thus
forming a line of separation, so to speak, for the migratory
flights of many interesting birds coming from opposite di-
rections.

" On consulting the list, however, it will be remarked
that the proportion of what may be considered resident
birds is small. This fact seems to have attracted observa-
tion as far back as the time of Dr. Benjamin S. Barton,
who published a work, entitled ' Fragments of Natural
History,' about seventy years ago, in which it is stated
that, in the district now spoken of, very few species remain
all the year, and that even of these there appeared to have
been a partial migration in 'severe winters ; such birds,
especially, as lived on insects and small fruits being com-
pelled to retire southward — a fact still noticeable at the pres-
ent day — many species that usually migrate remaining in
mild and open winters. Closer observation of late years,
however, has enabled ornithologists to affirm with certainty
that, of so-called migratory birds, a greater number pass
the winter with us than has been hitherto supposed."

Elsewhere in his preface the author further remarks :

APPENDIX. 453

" The diffusion of well-authenticated information regard-
ing the distribution of American birds is yet a matter for
future observation. There have been, no doubt, many im-
portant contributions on this subject, of late years, yet the
field is so extensive that many years must elapse before we
can lay claim to a thorough knowledge of many important
particulars, which patient research and well-timed energy
alone can solve. The author of the present little work,
while claiming for it the merit of careful observation, ex-
tending over a period of several years, at the same time
believes the plan of the catalogue to be capable of attaining
more useful results if enlarged in proportion to the nature
of the districts investigated. It is, therefore, to be hoped
that accurate observers may undertake similar records, by
means of which the next great work on the ornithology of
our country may contain a better collection of facts, repre-
senting the phenomena of the remoter districts, than has
yet been obtained."

Believing that I can best serve the purposes of working
ornithologists by closely following the list given by Mr.
Turnbull in his work, from which I have already so exten-
sively quoted, I have in the following pages practically
reproduced that list, with annotations based upon the ob-
servations of the sixteen years which have elapsed since
Dr. Turnbull wrote his work. My list of birds, that may
be said to constitute the ornithic fauna of Mercer County,
numbers two hundred and seventeen species ; the list given
by Dr. Turnbull numbers three hundred and forty-two
species, and is given as the complete enumeration of the
birds of an area many hundred times as large as that re-
ferred to as the field of my own observations. Of the three
hundred and forty-two species given by Dr. Turnbull, fifty-
nine are under the heading of " Stragglers or Irregular Vis-
itants " ; which leaves us but two hundred and eighty-three
species as characteristic of the fauna, or properly belonging
to it. Deducting eleven species from my list of the birds

454: RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

of Mercer County, New Jersey, there remains a difference
only of seventy-seven species between those observed by
Dr. Turnbull in "that part of Pennsylvania eastward of
the Alleghany Mountains, and of New Jersey, including
the coast-line, which extends from Sandy Hook to Cape
May," and those that I have seen in a very limited portion
of the valley of the Delaware.

Wood- Thrush. Turdus mustelinus.

Strictly migratory, and sensitive to frost. Arrives early in April,
if the weather is warm, and remains until November. It is more
irregular than any other of our thrushes.

Hermit-Thrush. Turdus pallasii.

" Not uncommon. It arrives in April, and again late in October
on its way south, when it is more abundant along the sea-coast. . . .
A few have been observed during winter when that season lias been
open and mild " (Turnbull). They also remain, in scanty numbers,
during summer, and breed.

Olive-backed Thrush. Turdus Swainsonii.

" Kare. It arrives in the end of April. A few also of this spe-
cies have been seen in winter " (Turnbull). I have not found this
thrush to be at all " rare," but very irregular in its appearance.

Wilson's Thrush. Turdus fuscescens.

Kesident, or but partly migratory. It is not unusual to see them
during the winter, if the weather is mild. At such times they seek
shelter from the wind, and congregate largely on wooded slopes
having a southern exposure.

Robin. Turdus migratorius.

This familiar sjfecies is wandering, rather than migratory. They
are as abundant in January as in June ; indeed, often much more so.

Brown Thrush. IlarporJiyncTius rufus.

Migratory. Often appears as early as March 1st. " A few re-
main during mild winters " (Turnbull).

Mocking-Bird . Mimus polyglottus.

Rare. A pair of these birds have for two years past nested in

APPENDIX. 455

the yard of a neighbor. " It appears to have been plentiful in for-
mer years, and, according to Bart ram and Dr. Barton, even re-
mained all the winter near Philadelphia " (Turnbull).

Catbird. Galeoscoptes Carolinensis.

Abundant everywhere. I think it is evident that a change is
slowly coming over their migratory habits. They certainly arrive
earlier and stay later than the dates mentioned by Wilson, Audubon,
or Nuttall. Single birds have been seen during the winter.

Bluebird. Sialia sialis.

Whatever may have been the habit of this species, it is now, in
no sense, migratory.

Golden-crowned Knight. Eegulus satrapa.

Not uncommon. Seen both in spring and autumn usually ; but
also in winter, though less frequently. That they breed in Northern
New Jersey is unquestionable.

Ruby-crowned Wren. Eegulus calendula.

More abundant than the preceding, and is identical in all its
habits. The two are frequently associated, especially in mid-winter,
when a flock of a dozen or twenty is occasionally met with.

Blue-gray Gnat-catcher. Polloptila ccerulea.

I have seldom met with this species, which can scarcely be rec-
ognized by a description of its voice, quoted by Jordan as " like
a mouse with the toothache." It is said, on the contrary, to be
really a fine singer. Dr. Turnbull does not give this species in his
list.

Tufted Tit. Lophophanes "bicolor.

Abundant. " Especially abundant in summer " (Turnbull). My
observations have led me to conclude it was more common in au-
tumn and winter than in summer.

Black-capped Tit. Parus atricapillus.

Very abundant. During the summer they are more retiring in
their habits and stay more closely in heavily-timbered areas. In
winter they at times almost outnumber the snow-birds.

White-bellied JSTut-Hatch. Sitta Carolinensis.

Common. While to be found, on careful search, at any time of
the year, they are certainly more abundant during the winter.

456 RAMBLES AM OUT HOME.

Bed-bellied Nut-Hatch. Sitta Canadensis.

" Rather rare from October to April " (Turnbull). I have
found it as late as June, and believe the species to be resident to a
limited extent.

Tree-Creeper. Certhia familiar is.

"Abundant, but more so in winter than at other times of the
year. I can detect no difference between it and that of Europe ; it
has the same shrill but feeble note, and its habits are identical "
(Turnbull).

Carolina Wren. Thryothorus Ludovicianus.

Within the past few years this magnificent songster has become
quite abundant, and is strictly resident. According to Dr. Turn-
bull, at the time he wrote it was " rather rare. It appears early in
May on the borders of the Delaware. Mr. John Cassin informed
me that he had occasionally seen this bird on the Wissahickon in
winter."

Bewick's "Wren. Thryothorus Bewickii.

Some years ago a few pairs of these birds were seen in my
neighborhood; but they have been replaced by the Carolina wrens,
that appear to have driven the others away.

House- Wren. Troglodytes ccdon.

Abundant. Less sensitive to cold than formerly— say, fifty years
ago. They arrive earlier and depart later than in the time of Audu-
bon and Wilson. I have seen them as early as April 5th.

Winter- Wren. Troglodytes hy emails.

Common, but not resident probably. The similarity in appear-
ance to the preceding, and coming from the north at about the time
the house-wrens pass southward, has given the impression to many
that the latter are not migratory.

Short-billed Marsh-Wren. Cistothorus stellaris.

" Rather rare from April to September " (Turnbull). I believe
that more of these birds are to be found than is commonly sup-
posed. I have found colonies of them in certain limited tracts of
reedy meadows.

Long-bi lied Marsh-Wren . Clstoth orus palustris.
Abundant in all marshy or tide-water meadows.

APPENDIX. 457

Horned Lark. Eremophila cornuta.

"Plentiful ; appearing late in October and generally leaving in
March, but some seasons it remains until April " (Turnbull.) If a
cold northeaster occurs in September it often brings these birds,
which, again, have been seen as late as May 10th.

Titlark. Anthus Ludovicianus.

" Common. It arrives from the north in October, and departs
in April, but is more frequent in the autumn and spring migra-
tions " (Turnbull).

Creeping Warbler. Mniotilta varia.
Abundant from April to October.

Blue Yellow-backed Warbler. Parula Americana.
Common from April to October.

Worm-eating Warbler. Helmintherus vermivorus.

" Rather rare ; arriving in the middle of May " (Turnbull).
During the past ten years this has been one of our most abundant
species, and one that reaches us as early as the middle of ApriL

Blue- winged Yellow Warbler. Helminthophaga pinus.
Somewhat rare, but variable in this respect.

Nashville Warbler. Helminthophaga ruficapilla.

Common. Often very abundant during the autumnal migration
of the warblers generally.

Tennessee Warbler. Helminthophaga peregrina.

Not uncommon. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as more common in
autumn than in spring.

Golden-winged Warbler. Helminthophaga chrysoptera,
Quite rare, except in certain summers when warblers of every
species are unusually abundant.

Cape May Warbler. Perissoglossa tigrina.

" Very rare ; it arrives early in May, and again it visits us on its
way south about the 10th of October " (Turnbull).

Summer Warbler. Dendrceca cestiva.
Abundant.

20

458 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Black-throated Blue Warbler. Dendrceca ccerulescens.
Abundant. " A few remain to breed " (Turnbull).

Myrtle-Bird. Dendrceca coronata.

Abundant. Yearly becoming more abundant during the winter.
Even the severe January of 1884 did not drive them away. Several
specimens were seen that month.

Black and Yellow Warbler. Dendrceca maculosa.

" One of our most beautiful warblers, and rather frequent ; com-
ing early in May, and again in September " (Turnbull).

Blue Warbler. Dendrceca cc&rulea.

"Rare. From May to end of August. The Blue Mountain
warbler of Wilson is the young of this species " (Turnbull).

Chestnut-sided Warbler. Dendrceca Pennsylvania.

" Not uncommon. Arriving early in May. A few remain to
breed " (Turnbull).

Black-poll Warbler. Dendrceca striata.
Common in spring and autumn.

Blackburnian Warbler. Dendrceca Blactiburnia.
Common, and tarries to breed.

Bay-breasted Warbler. Dendrceca castanea.

"Bather rare, appearing late in April, and again in October.
The young bird of this species is the autumnal warbler of Wilson "
(Turnbull;.

Yellow-throated Warbler. Dendrceca dominica.

Rare. I have seen but few specimens. This species is not in
Dr. Turnbull's list.

Prairie Warbler. Dendrceca discolor.

Not uncommon. Upland fields, overgrown with rag- weed, are
favorite localities.

Black-throated Green Warbler. Dendrceca mrens.

" Rather frequent, arriving early in May and departing in Octo-
ber. It is more plentiful in the spring and autumn migrations "
(Turnbull).

APPENDIX. 459

Pine-creeping Warbler. Dendrosca pinus.

"This species is rather rare in spring, but plentiful in autumn.
Arriving early in April, and again in October. Many remain during
summer " (Turnbull).

This is one of the few species of warblers that lingers in Central
New Jersey long after the severe frosts have set in. I have seen
them as late as December 3d.

Yellow Red-poll Warbler. Dend rmca palmarum.
Abundant, but do not remain to breed.

Golden -crowned Thrush. Siurus auricapillus.
Yery common in moist ground thick with underbrush.

Water-Wagtail. Siurus ncevius.

Not as common as the preceding, but during no summer have
I found it rare.

Water-Thrush. /Siurus motacilla.

Not uncommon, but probably the least abundant of the three
species of this genus.

Connecticut Warbler. Oporornis agilis.

" Rather rare. This species is very seldom met with in spring,
but is, however, more frequent in autumn, appearing late in Au-
gust" (Turnbull).

During the spring of 1882 and of 1883, I saw many specimens of
these birds during the month of May.

Kentucky Warbler. Oporornis formosus.

" A southern species, and rather scarce. It arrives late in
April " (Turnbull).

As has frequently happened during the past decade, during cer-
tain summers, warblers of all kinds would be phenomenally abun-
dant. During such I have seen many of this species.

Maryland Yellow-Throat. Geothlypis trichas.

A specimen of this common warbler was seen on the 18th of
March, 1883. This is unusually early for this species, which, how-
ever, usually anticipates the arrival, in spring, of the warblers gener-
ally, by two or three weeks. The specimen here mentioned was
very active, kept much to the tops of the taller trees, and sang
incessantly.

460 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Mourning Warbler. Geothlypis Philadelphia.

I have seen but the one specimen of this warbler, to recognize
it. A friend, who has carefully studied our warblers, reports it as
" not uncommon in April and May."

Yellow-breasted Chat. Icteria virens.
Very abundant as a summer resident.

Hooded Warbler. Myiodioctes mitratus.

Very variable as to numbers. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as
" rather rare."

Green Fly-catcher. Myiodioctes pusillus.

"This bird appears early in May, and again in October, and is
rather abundant " (Turnbull).

My impression is that they are also, to a certain extent, summer
residents, and presumably breed here.

Canada Fly-catcher. Myiodioctes Canadensis.

" Frequent from the end of April to October " (Turnbull).

Redstart. Setophaga ruticilla.
Abundant. A summer resident.

Scarlet Tanager. Pyranga rubra.
Abundant. A summer resident.

Summer Redbird. Pyranga cestiva.

Rare. Formerly more abundant than the preceding.

Barn-Swallow. Hirundo horreorum.
Common. March to September 30th.

White-bellied Swallow. Tachycineta 'bicolor.
Common. Late in March to September 15th.

Cliff-Swallow. Petrochelidon lunifrons.

Common in colonies, which return year after year to the same
nesting-places. April to September, both inclusive.

Bank-Swallow. Cotyle riparia.

Common. Early spring until late in October.

APPENDIX. 461

Kough-v iged Swallow. Stelgidopteryx serripennis.

This is the least abundant of our swallows, but is never wanting
altogether, I believe.

Purple Martin. Prague subis.

Common, where boxes for their accommodation are provided.

Cedar-Bird. Ampelis cedrorum.

" Abundant, but less frequent in winter than at other seasons "
(Turnbull). My observations are the reverse. I certainly have
seen much larger flocks and more of them in winter. During the
severe January of 1884 they were exceedingly abundant.

"Wax-Wing. Ampelis garrulus.

" Has been occasionally shot near Philadelphia " (Turnbull). I
have seen two specimens of this northern species, both of which
were killed near Trenton, New Jersey.

Red-eyed Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia olivacea.
Common from May until end of October.

Philadelphia Greenlet. Vireosylvia Philadelphia.

" Very rare " (Turnbull). I have met with but two specimens,
and these were collected twenty years ago ; but as these birds might
readily be confounded with other greenlets, when simply seen u on
the wing," it is probable that they are not so excessively rare as is
generally supposed.

"Warbling Greenlet. Vireosylvia gilva.
Common from May to October, both inclusive.

Blue-headed Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia solitaria.

" Eather rare, arriving in April and departing in October "
(Turnbull).

Yellow-throated Fly-catcher. Vireosylvia flavifrons.

"Not uncommon from the end of April to September" (Turn-
bull). I have found the nests of this species in elm and maple
trees; usually at a considerable elevation; above rather than below
the so-called " nest-line."

White-eyed Yireo. Vireo Novceboracensis.

Common from March to October, both inclusive. Stragglers
are occasionally met with in midwinter.

462 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Butcher-Bird . Collurio borealis.

"Not uncommon, especially in winter. In March it migrates
to the north, but many nestle on the mountain-ridges of the Alle-
ghanies " (Turnbull).

Loggerhead Shrike. Collurio Ludovicianus.

This southern species is now found every summer in this neigh-
borhood. I have seen half a dozen specimens within a year, and know
of others collected within the past four or five years. This species
appears to have become comparatively common since the great in-
crease in the number of English sparrows, now so melancholy a
feature of our ornithology ; and the spread in the range of this and
the preceding species of shrike is attributed to the unfortunate
abundance of the perfidious foreign sparrow.

Pine Grosbeak. Pinicola enucleator.

Varies greatly in accordance with the character of the winter.
Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as " rather rare."

Purple Finch. Carpodacus purpureus.

"Not uncommon from September to April, a few remaining
during summer " (Turnbull).

Red Crossbill. Loxia curvirostra.

A winter visitant ; at times quite abundant.

White-winged Crossbill. Loxia leucoptera.

" Rare, but in some winters more plentiful " (Turnbull). I saw
them, in the summer of 1867, near the Delaware Water-Gap.

Linnet. ^Egiothus linaria.

"Not uncommon in severe winters, coming early in November,
and remaining until April " (Turnbull). I have not found the char-
acter of the winter to determine the question of their presence or
absence. I have never known a winter when linnets were not seen.

Thistle-Bird. Chrysomitris tristis.

Common. Resident. More gregarious in winter than at other
times.

Snow-Bunting. Plectrophanes nivalis.

" Of frequent occurrence, and usually appearing after a snow-
storm. It arrives early in December, and leaves in March " (Turn-
bull).

APPENDIX. 463

Lapland Long-Spur. Plectrophanes Lapponicus.

" Very rare, and found only in severe winters " (Turnbull). My
observations have determined that single specimens of this bird
are not unusually found in the flocks of the preceding species.

Savannah Sparrow. Passerculus Savanna.
Transitory. Abundant only in spring and autumn.

Grass-Finch. Pocecetes gramineus.

Abundant, resident, and the most " domestic " of our birds. In
the fields in which these birds are hatched they appear to remain
throughout their lives. They are as abundant in January as in
June. Dr. Turnbull considered them migratory, and speaks of their
numbers as " being augmented in summer by flocks arriving early
in April.1"

Yellow- winged Sparrow. Ammodromus passerinus.

" Common, arriving late in April, and departing in October "
(Turnbull).

Henslow's Bunting. Ammodromus Henslowi.

Never common. Varies greatly in numbers from year to year.

Sharp-tailed Finch. Ammodromus caudacutus.

"Frequent on the salt marshes along the coast" (Turnbull).
Not uncommon on the inland tide-water meadows of the Delaware
Eiver.

White-crowned Sparrow. Zonotrichia leucophrys.

Never abundant, but still not rare. They appear often as early
as September, and remain until the spring following is well ad-
vanced.

White-throated Sparrow. Zonotrichia albicollis.

Common from September to May, often inclusive of the latter
month.

Tree- Sparrow. Spizella monticola.

Abundant from October to April, both inclusive. A statement
made by the writer in 1868 ("Geology of New Jersey"), that this
species was "resident," was a careless blunder.

Field-Sparrow. Spizella pusilla.

" Common. Comes early in April and leaves in October " (Turn-
bull). If the weather is pleasant, they remain until December.

464 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Chippy. Spizella socialis.
. Kesident. Not migratory, as stated by Dr. Turnbull.

Swamp-Sparrow. Melospiza palustris.

Abundant in all our reedy meadows. A sweet songster, with
notes that are as liquid as the babbling of a brook.

Song-Sparrow. Melospiza melodia.

Resident, but to some extent may also be migratory. I can not
perceive, however, that they are more abundant in summer than in
winter.

Lincoln's Finch. Melospiza Lincolni.
Not abundant. Both migratory and resident.

Snow-Bird. Junco hyemalis.

Abundant from October to April, both inclusive.

Foxie Sparrow. Passer ella iliaca.

Arrive in October usually, and remain until April 1st. They
appear to be most abundant at the end of winter, when often quite
large, loose flocks are seen associated with numbers of white-
throats.

Black-throated Bunting. Euspiza Americana.

" Plentiful. Appearing early in May, and leaving in September "
(Turnbull).

Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Goniaphea Ludoviciana.

Since 1880 this species has been increasing in numbers steadily.
They come early in May, and remain until September 30th. The
finest song-bird of North America.

Indigo-Bird. Cyanospiza cyanea.

Common from May to September, both inclusive ; but so sensi-
tive to cold storms that a cool August drives them southward.

Cardinal-Grosbeak. Cardinalis Virginianus.

Resident, and more lively and full of song at Christmas than in
midsummer. Dr. Turnbull intimates that they are partly migra-
tory ; but I am inclined to believe this an error. There is, at least,
no evidence of this in Mercer County.

Chewink. Pipilo erytJirophthalmus.

Common from early spring until the leaves have fallen. Ac-

APPENDIX. 465

cording to Dr. Turnbull, " a few remain during winter, and may be
found in well-sheltered localities.1'

Bobolink. Dolichonyx oryzivorus.

Appear early in May or April, if the weather is mild, and
spread over the country as " bobolinks." In August they gather
into large flocks, and follow the river valleys southward as "reed-
birds " on the Delaware, and " rice-birds" in the Southern States.

Cow-Bird. Molothrus pecoris.

Common from March 15th to November 1st, and sometimea
seen later in the year.

Red-winged Blackbird. Agelaius plioeniceus.

Most abundant from February until November, but to be found
even during midwinter.

Meadow-Lark. Sturnella magna.
Resident. Abundant.

Baltimore Oriole. Icterus Baltimore.

Very abundant. April 15th to October 1st are the dates of the
arrival and disappearance of most of them ; but a few stragglers are
seen every year, both earlier and later than the dates given.

Orchard Oriole. Icterus spurius.

Equally common with the above. Arrives and departs at about
the same time of year.

Rusty Grackle. Scolecophegus ferrugineus.

More abundant during some years than others, but at no time
as common as the following.

Crow Blackbird. Quiscalus purpureus.
Common. Both resident and migratory.

Raven. Corvus corax.

Only occasionally seen " flying over."

Crow. Corvus Americanus.
Common. Resident.

Fish-Crow. Corvus ossifragus.

Rare. Dr. Turnbnll speaks of it as migratory, stating that " it
arrives early in April."

466 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Blue Jay. Cyanurus cristatus.

Common. Dr. Turnbull speaks of it as u less numerous in win-
ter than at other seasons." I have not found this, but the contrary
to be true.

Forked-tailed Fly-catcher. Milvulus forficatus.

" Bonaparte procured a specimen of this bird near Bridgeton,
New Jersey ; another was shot by Audubon at Cam den, near Phila-
delphia, in June, 1832 " (Turnbull).

A specimen was collected in April, 1872, near Trenton, New
Jersey, and presented by the writer to the Academy or Science, at
Salem, Massachusetts.

King-Bird. Tyrannus Carolinensis.
Common. May to September, both inclusive.

Great-crested Fly-catcher. Myiarchus crinitus.
Common. May to September, both inclusive.

Pee wee. Sayornis fuscus.

Common. March to October, both inclusive.

Wood Peewee. Contopus wrens.

Abundant. April to October, both inclusive.

Olive-sided Fly-catcher. Contopus borealis.

" Very rare. It is generally seen early in May on its way north,
and returns in September " (Turnbull).

Traill's Fly-catcher. Empidonax Traillii.

"Bare, but some seasons it is not uncommon in the spring, ar-
riving about the middle of May " (Turnbull).

I am positive that it occasionally remains during the summer
and breeds.

Green-crested Fly-catcher. Empidonax Acadicus.

" Frequent from the beginning of May to the middle of Septem-
ber. It is generally found in the most secluded parts of woods "
(Turnbull).

Least Fly-catcher. Empidonax minimus.

" Rather rare, arriving in April on its northern migration, and
returning early in September. A few remain to breed " (Turn-
bull).

APPENDIX. 467

Yellow-bellied Fly-catcher. Empidonax flaviventris.

" Eare. It arrives in the middle of April, on its way north.
Dr. Slack found it breeding near Trenton " (Turnbull).

Whip-poor-will. Antrostomus vociferus.
Common. May to August, both inclusive.

Night-Hawk. Chordeiles Virginianus.
Common. April to September, both inclusive.

Chimney- S wallow. Chastura pelagica.
Common. April to September, both inclusive.

Humming-Bird. Trochilus colubris.

Common. Arrives as soon as the weather has become settled
and fairly warm, and remains until frost, or until about the middle
of October.

Kingfisher. Ceryle alcyon.

Both resident and migratory. Abundant.

Yellow-billed Cuckoo. Coccygus Americanize.

Common. Arrives early in spring and remains until October 1st.

Black-billed Cuckoo. Coccygus erythrophlhalmus.

Not as common as the preceding. " It frequents the borders of
small streams " (Turnbull).

Hairy Woodpecker. Picus villosus.
Common. Kesident.

Downy Woodpecker. Picus pubescens.
Common. Eesident.

Yellow-bellied Woodpecker. Sphyrapicus varius.
Common. Eesident and partly migratory.

Red-bellied Woodpecker. Centurus Carolinus.
Common. Partly migratory.

Red-headed Woodpecker. Melanerpes erythrocephalus.
Common. Apparently migratory.

Flicker. Colaptes auratus.
Common. Irregularly migratory.

468 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Barn-Owl. Slrix pratincola.

" Not rare, and more frequent in spring and autumn " (Turn-
bull).

Cat-Owl. Otus Wilsonianus.

Not abundant of late ; but twenty or more years ago were com-
mon in the swampy woodlands.

Marsh- Owl. Otus brachyotus.

Common. Dr. Turnbull refers to it as migratory, " arriving in
November, and departing in April." This is surely an error. I
have frequently found it breeding in hollow trees, near Trenton,
New Jersey.

Barred Owl. Syrnium nebulosum.
Rare. Usually seen in autumn and winter.

Saw-whet Owl. Nyctale Acadica.

Comparatively abundant since 1877. Eesident, and breeds an-
nually in swampy lands near Trenton, New Jersey.

Screech-Owl. Scops asio.
Common. Resident.

Great Horned Owl. Bubo Virginianus.

Rare. Occasionally a " family " of them are met with in winter.

Snowy Owl. Nyctea scandiaca.

Rare. A winter visitant. More common during some winters
than others.

Hawk-Owl. Surnia ulula.

Rare. Probably our rarest winter visitant. " Is occasionally
found in severe winters. One was shot at Haddington, near Phila-
delphia, in 1866 " (Turnbull).

Duck-Hawk. Falco communis.

Very rare. "During autumn and winter it frequents the
marshes along the sea-coast and the courses of rivers, preying upon
wild-fowl " (Turnbull).

Pigeon-Hawk. Falco colwnbarius.

Not common. Migratory; but occasionally breeds in New
Jersey.

APPENDIX. 4:69

Sparrow-Hawk. Falco sparverius.
Abundant. Resident.

Fish-Hawk. Pandion halicetus.
Abundant. Migratory.

Swallow-tailed Hawk. Nauclerusfurcatus.

I saw a specimen of this hawk in November, 1883. " Has been
seen once or twice in Pennsylvania. Mr. John Krider shot one near
Philadelphia in 1857 " (Turnbull).

Mississippi Kite. Ictinia subcwrulea.

Specimens of this hawk have been killed in Mercer County
during the past ten years. It is, however, exceedingly rare.

Marsh-Hawk. Circus Hudsonius.

Common during the winter, but less so during the rest of the
year.

Goshawk. Astur atricapillus.
Rare, and seen during the winter only.

Sharp-shinned Hawk. Accipiter fuscus.
Abundant. Resident.

Cooper's Hawk. Accipiter Cooperi.
Abundant. Resident.

Hen-Hawk. .Buteo lorealis.

Common. " Much more frequent in autumn and winter ; haunt-
ing meadows and cultivated districts " (Turnbnll).

Winter- Falcon. Buteo lineatus.
Not as abundant as the preceding.

Broad-winged Hawk. Buteo Pennsylvanicus.

" Rare. This hawk is also more frequently seen in winter."

Kough-legged Buzzard. Archibuteo lagopus.

Common ; particularly during the winter. Dr. Turnbull refers
to this bird, when it has acquired the melanistic plumage, as a dis-
tinct species — Archibuteo Sancti Johannis. The plumage varies
from dirty white to black.

470 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Ring-tailed Eagle. - Aquila chryscetus.

Rare. A single specimen was seen by the writer several times
during the winter of 1883-'84.

Bald Eagle. Ilalietus leucocephalus.

Occasionally specimens are seen, particularly during the autumn
and winter ; but these birds are yearly becoming more scarce.

Turkey-Buzzard. Cathartes aura.
Common. Irregularly migratory.

Wild Pigeon. Ectopistes migratoria.
No longer abundant in this neighborhood.

Turtle-Dove. Zencedura Carolinensis.

Common. Migratory. Dr. Turnbull states that " many remain
during the winter."

Quail. Ortyx Virginianus.
Common. Resident.

Ruffed Grouse. Bouasa wnbellus.
Formerly abundant, but now quite rare.

Black-bellied Plover. Squatarola Helvetica.

" It appears late in April, and again in September, a few remain-
ing on the uplands to breed " (Turnbull).

This species, associated with golden plovers, are most frequently
seen in August and September, in Mercer County ; sometimes
flocks of several hundred being found. They never tarry long, but
seem to be migrating.

Golden Plover. Charadrius fulvus.

"Common, appearing in the end of April, and again early in
September " (Turnbull).

Killdeer Plover. ^Egialitis vociferus.

Common as a visitor, but few now remain to breed. Less than
half a century ago they were a familiar bird in our upland fields,
and bred in newly plowed fields. Now they are found only in
spring and autumn, along our larger creeks and the river-shore.
" Especially abundant along the sea-shore in winter " (Turnbull).

APPENDIX. 471

Wilson's Plover. jEgialitis Wilsonius.

" Kather rare. Arrives early in May " (Turnbull). Associated
with other small " beach birds," this plover is occasionally found in
considerable numbers along the shores of the Delaware River, above
the reach of tide- water.

Ring-necked Plover. ^Egialitis semipalmatus.

Properly a " shore bird,1' but, like the preceding, is found along
the mud-flats of the Delaware Kiver, particularly in August.

Piping Plover. jEgialitis melodus.

Like the above, this is properly a bird of the sea-coast, that fre-
quently wanders up our river-valleys far beyond the limits of salt
water. They are often exceedingly abundant after storms, espe-
cially when an easterly wind has prevailed.

Red Phalarope. Phalaropus fulicarius.

" A few examples of this species are obtained every season "
(Turnbull). I have seen a specimen, in the flesh, killed on the river
at Trenton.

"Woodcock. Philohela minor.

Common. Resident to a limited extent. Usually migrate, ap-
pearing about March 1st.

Snipe. Gallinago Wilsonii.

Common. Migratory. A few remain, however, during the
winter. Have been known to breed in Mercer County, New Jersey.

Peep. Ereun etes pusillus.

Irregularly abundant, in spring and autumn, along the river-
shore.

Least Sandpiper. Tringa minutilla.

Irregularly abundant, in spring and autumn, along the river-
shore.

Sanderling. Calidris arenaria.

Single specimens of this coast species are so frequently found
associated with other "sand-snipe," that it may properly be con-
sidered as a spring and autumn visitant. Indeed, it is doubtful if
not all of the marine waders do not occasionally come so far inland.

4:72 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Telltale. Totanus melanoleucus.

Common during the spring, summer, and early part of autumn.

Yellow Shanks. Totanus flavipes.

Even more abundant than the preceding, with which they are
usually associated.

Solitary. Totanus solitarius.

Common. Migratory. Frequents upland localities.

Teeter. Trlngoides macularius.

Abundant everywhere from May to October, both inclusive.

Field-Plover. Actiturus Bartramius.

" Plentiful from the middle of April till late in September "
(Turnbull).

Great Blue Heron. Ardea Herodias.

"Common, arriving in April. A few, however, remain during
winter " (Turnbull).

This species is quite common near Bordentown, New Jersey, on
the meadows.

Great "White Heron. Herodias egretta.

u Rather rare, arriving about the middle of May " (Turnbull).

Snowy Egret. Garzetta candidissima.

A few are seen every summer, along the Delaware River, asso-
ciated with herons of other species.

Blue Heron. Florida ccerulea.

" Rare " (Turnbull). I am surprised to find this species men-
tioned as rare in New Jersey. It is always abundant about the
meadows and river-banks, from Trenton southward to the capes.

Green Heron. Butorides virescens.

Abundant. Migratory. April to October, both inclusive.

Night-Heron. Nyctiardea grisea.

Abundant. Migratory and resident to a limited extent.

Yellow-crowned Night-IIerQn. Nyctherodius violaceus.
" A rare straggler from the south " (Turnbull). I have found
it frequently along the river, north of Trenton, New Jersey.

APPENDIX. 473

Bittern. Botaurus lentiginosus.

Common. It comes to us early in April and remains until the
autumn is well spent.

Least Bittern. Ardetta exilis.

Frequent, but not as abundant as the preceding. Migratory.

Ibis. Ibis falcinellus.

" Last season (1866) Mr. John Krider shot a specimen just below
Philadelphia. At long intervals it has been seen on the River Dela-
ware, and also at Egg Harbor " (Turnbull). It has been found on
Crosswicks Creek, Mercer County, New Jersey, on two occasions ;
both specimens being procured.

King-Rail. Rallus elegans.

King-Rails frequent the " mucky " meadows of my farm every
year. In the summer of 1882 my son found the nest of this bird
for the first time. It was formed of long, dead grass, with a base
of small sticks, and was placed at the foot of a low bush. It con-
tained eight eggs, similar in appearance to those of the common
Clapper-Rail of our sea-coast.

Virginia Rail. Rallus Virginianus.

Very rare along the Delaware River, until the vicinity of salt
water is reached, where, in the broader stretches of tide-meadows,
it becomes more frequent.

Sora. Porzana Carolina.

" Abundant, arriving from the south early in May. About the
beginning of August it returns from the north in great numbers,
and finally leaves us in October. A few remain to breed during
summer " (Turnbull).

Yellow Rail. Porzana Novceboracensis.

Quite rare. I have seldom seen more than one or two during
the season.

Florida Gallinule. Gallinula galeata.

" A very rare summer visitant, from the middle of May to late
in October, on the Delaware and Susquehanna" (Turnbull). I
have seen but the one specimen in New Jersey, which I procured.
It was found on the meadows bordering Crosswicks Creek.

474 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Coot. Fulica Americana.

Common from early in April until late in autumn. Dr. Turnbull
speaks of it as " rather rare."

Wild Goose. Branta Canadensis.
Common. Migratory.

Mallard. Anas loschas.
Common. Migratory.

Black Duck. Anas obscura.
Common. Migratory.

Sprig-Tail. Dafila acuta.
Common. Migratory.

Widgeon. Mareca Americana.
Common. Migratory.

Blue-winged Teal, fyuerquedula discors.
Common. Migratory.

Green-winged Teal. Nettion Carolinensis.
Common. Migratory.

Wood-Duck. Aix sponsa.

Common. Resident and migratory. They breed in hollow-
trees, in large numbers, and I have seen them as frequently during
winter as in summer.

Buffle-headed Duck. Bucephala albeola.

Common. Migratory. During the freshets of winter and early
spring almost all the marine species of ducks are found in greater
or less numbers along the river. Geese, brant, and broad-bills, es-
pecially, are often killed; and numbers of canvas-backs and red-
heads, also, but less frequently. The list given, excepting the
goose, are those that are usually found when there is a " flight of
wild fowl."

Gull. Larus argentatus.

Common, immediately after northeast storms.

Gull. Larus Delawarensis.

Common after storms. Abundant nearer Delaware Bay.

APPENDIX. 475

Occasionally, single gulls are seen inland, or flying over the
river — not only those mentioned, but other species.

Tern. Sterna hirundo.

Occasionally, and particularly after severe easterly storms, terns
are quite abundant about the river. They never remain, however,
more than two or three days.

Loon. Colymbus torquatus.

Not uncommon during autumn and winter, and occasionally
seen in summer.

Red-throated Diver. Colymbus septentrionalis.

I saw a specimen of this diver that was killed on the river in
February, 1879. I carefully examined the specimen a few hours
after it was shot.

Crested Grebe. Podiceps cristatus.

Every winter, specimens of this bird are killed on the river.

Devil-Di ver. Podilymb us podiceps.
Common. Migratory, but irregularly so.

REPTILES.

Land-Turtle, or Box-Tortoise. Cistudo clausa.
Muhlenberg's Turtle. Chelopus Muhleribergii.
Rough-backed Turtle. Chelopus insculptus.
Speckled Turtle. Nanemys guttatus.

Blanding's Turtle. Emys meleagris.

The species that I take to be the above is exceedingly rare, and,
if not the same, is a nondescript. It does not in every particular
agree with the descriptions of the species as given by authors gener-
ally.

Painted Turtle. Chrysemys picta.
Red-bellied Turtle. Pseudemys rugosa.
Mud-Digger. Cinosternum Pennsylvanicum.
Stinking-Turtle. Aromochelys odoratus.
Snapper. CJielydra serpentina.

476 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Fence-Lizard. Sceloporus undulatus.

These lizards are yearly becoming more scarce, as the areas of
woodland are being " cut off."

Hog-nosed Snake. Heterodon vlatyrkinus.
Water-Snake. Tropidonotus sipedon.
Leather-Snake. Tropidonotus leberis.
Brown Snake. Storeria De Kayi.
Slender Garter-Snake. Eutcenia saurita.
Garter-Snake. Eutcenia sirtalis.
Black Snake. Bascanion constrictor.
Green Snake. Cyclophis cestwus.
Eing-necked Snake. Diadoplms punctatus.

Chain-Snake. Ophibolus doliatus.

This snake is also known as "thunder and lightning " snake.

Blind- Worm. Carphophiops amoena.

BATKACHIANS.

Spring-Frog. Rana halecina
Pickerel-Frog. Rana palustrib.
Green Frog. Rana clamitans.
Bull-Frog. Rana Catesbiana.
Wood-Frog. Rana temporaria.
Spade-Foot Toad. ScapJiiopus solitarius.
Tree-Toad. Hyla versicolor.
Pickering's Tree-Toad. Hyla Pickeringii.
Peeper. Acris crepitans.
Toad. Bufo lentiginosus.

Spotted Triton. Dieinyctylus viridescens.
Dusky Salamander. Desmognathus fusca.

APPENDIX. 477

Eed-backed Salamander. Plethodon erythronotus.

Ked Triton. Spelerpes ruber.

Purple Salamander. Gyrinophilus porphyriticus.

Tiger-Triton. Amllystoma tigrinum.

There are other salamanders found in Mercer County, I am con-
fident, but only the above have I been able positively to identify.
Of the latter species, I have seen but the one specimen.

Hellbender. Menopoma Alleghaniense.

Accidental. Believed to have escaped from a traveling " show."

FISHES.

Hog-Fish, Sand-Perch. Percina caprodes.
Darter. Boleosoma Olmstedi.
Crimson Darter. Poecilichthys erochrous.
Darter. Pcecilichthys fusiforme.

Yellow Perch. Perca flavescens.
Hook-Fish. Roccus lineatus.
White Perch. Roccus Americanus.
Mud Sunfish. Acantharcus pomotis.
River Sunfish. Lepomis auritus.

Blue Sunfish. Lepomis pallidus.

Rare. Single specimens, now and then, have been ^found in the
Delaware.

Sunny. Lepomis giblosus.

Banded Sunfish. Mesogonistius chcetodon.

Spotted Sunfish. Enneacanthus simulans.

Spotted Sunfish. Enneacanthus obesus.

The first mentioned of these " spotted " sunfish is extremely
abundant, but the other is uncommon. Very probably they are
not distinct.

4:78 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

Goggle-eyed Perch. Pomoxys sparoides.

Only occasional specimens met with in the river.
Pirate. ApJiododerus Say anus.

Mud-Blower, or Ling. Lota maculosa.
Discovered in the Delaware River in 1883.

Stickleback. Apeltes quadracus.
Rare in the inland streams.

River Minnow, Blunt Heads. Fundulus diaphanus.

River Minnow. Fundulus nigrofasciatus.

There are two other species, which, I believe, occasionally ascend
the river as far as Mercer County. Those mentioned are exceeding-
ly abundant, particularly the former.

Mud Minnow. Umbra limi.

Bill-Fish, Silvery Gar, " Snippick." Belone acutirostris.

Pike. Esox reticulatus.

Ditch-Pike. Esoxfasciatus.

Smelt. Osmerus mordax.

Rare in the Delaware, but common in other rivers of the State.

Shad. Alosa sapidissima.

Alewif e. Pomolobus pseudoharengus.

Gizzard Shad. Dorysoma cepedianum.

Blunt-nosed Minnow. Hyborlujnchus notatus,
Silvery Minnow. Hybognathus nuchalis.
Spawn-Eater. Cliola Hudsonia.
Smelt-Shiner. Cliola Storeriana.
Minnie. Cliola procne.
Silver Fin. Cliola analostana.
Red Fin. Minnilus cornutus.
Minnie. Minnilus chalyhmus.

APPENDIX. 479

Rosy Minnow. Minnilus amcenus.

This species was discovered and described by me in 1873. (See
"American Naturalist," vol. viii, p. 334.)

Rosy Dace. Squalius funduloides.

Roach. Notemigonus chrysoleucus.

Minnie. Hemitremia lifrenata.

Chub. Semotilus corporalis.

Chub. Semotilus fiuttaris.

Long-nosed Dace. Rhinichthys nasutus.

Black-nosed Dace. Ehinichthys atronasus.

Sucker. Myxostoma macrolepidota.
Mullet. Chub-Sucker. Erimyzon sucetta.
Mud-Sucker. Hypenteliwn nigricans.
River-Sucker. Catostomus communis.
River-Sucker. Carpiodes cyprinus.

Catfish. Ichthcelurus punctatus.
Catfish. Amiurus catus.
Stone-Cat. Noturus gyrinus.

Eel. Anguilla rostrata.
Gar. Lepidosteus osseus.
Sturgeon. Acipenser sturio.
Sturgeon. Acipenser brevirostris.
Lamprey. Petromyzon marinus.

There are other species of fresh-water fishes, than those
enumerated, in the valley of the Delaware River ; some of
which are confined to the mountainous regions, north of the
county boundaries ; others do not wander so far inland
from the sea-coast as Mercer County, except on rare occa-
sions.

INDEX.

Acantharcus pomotis, 367, 435.
Acris crepitans, 330.
Adder, spotted, 302, 303.
^Egialitis melodus, 201.
Agassiz, L., 271, 418.

American, testudinata, 251, 256.

habits of spade-foot toad, 346.
Agclaeus phoeniceus, 117.
Aix sponsa, 237.
Albany, New York, 398.
Alee Americanus, 17.
Amiurus catus, 435.
" American Naturalist," 15, 304, 382,

388.

Anguilla rostrata, 428, 435.
Ants, nests of, in wood, 65.
Aphrodederus sayanus, 388, 435.
Ardea exilis, 22, 227.
Argyll, Duke of, songs of American

birds, 93.

Aromochelys odoratus, 267.
Arvicola riparia, 65.
Assunpink Creek, 364, 414.
Audubon, J. J., winter pelage of
weasels, 27.

song of saw-whet owl, 220

Baird, S. R, 383.

Bartram, John, on habits of black
bear, 18.

William, 10.

Bascanion constrictor, 284.
Batrachians, intelligence of, 345.

short studies of, 312.
Bear, black, 17, 18.
Beaver, 17, 19.

Beaver-tree, magnolia glauca, 19.
Beeches, three, 191.
21

Belone acutirostris, 397, 435.
Bill-fish, 397, 435.
Birds, 93.

ancestral form of, 124.

migration of, 97, 164.

nests of, 124.

songs of, 136.
Bison, 17.

Bison Americanus, 17.
Bittern, 234.

least, 227.
Black-bass, 367.
Black-birds, red-winged, 117.
Blarina brevicauda, 64, 449.
Botaurus lentiginosus, 234.
Boleosoma Olmstedi, 358.
Bream, copper-nosed, 375.
Bubo Virginianus, 221.
Bufo Americanus, 337.
Butorides virescens, 234.

Campanius, Thomas, account of rat-
tle-snakes in New Jersey,
283.

Canada, 353.

Canis lupus, 17.

Cariacus Virginianus, 17.

Carphophiops amoena, 306.

Carver, Captain Jonathan, on habits
of tree-toads, 329.

Castor fiber, 17, 19.

Catalpa, seed-vessels of, 199.

Cat-birds, 142.

Cat-fish, 425, 435.

Catostomoids, 422.

Cats, wild, 22, 24.

Centropyxis aculeata, 381.

Cervus Canadensis, 17.

4:82

INDEX.

Ceryle alcyon, 214.

Chsetura pelagica, 134, 174.

Champlain, Samuel, 431.

Charlevoix, on habits of gar, 4S1.

Chat, yellow-breasted, 145.

Chausarou (see Gar, 431).

Chelydra serpentina, 269.

Chelopus Muhlenbergii, 255.
insculptus, 253.

Chewink, 141.

Chipmunk, 58.

storing of food by, 62.

Chironomus, larvae of, 380, 384.

Chrysemys picta, 257.

Chub, 407.

Cinosternum Pennsylvanicum, 265.

Cliola Hudsonia, 413.

Cooper's Creek, Camden County, N.
J., 388.

Cope, Edward D., on cyprinidaB of
Pennsylvania, 436.

Copper-bellies, 367.

Corner, a secluded, 183.

Corvus Americanus, 142.

Cotyle riparia, 161.

Coues, Dr. Elliott, on climbing pow-
ers of skunks, 39.
on habits of Tengmalm's owl, 219.

Cougar, former abundance of, in
New Jersey, 8, 17.

Cranes, 230.

Crosswicks Creek, 7, 46, 364, 397,
413, 417, 418, 423, 424.

Crotalus horridus, 285.

Crows, 142.

Cuvier, 372.

Cyanurus cristatus, 191.

Cyclophis aestivus, 300.

Cyclops quadricornis, 380, 384.

Cyprinodonts, 389.

Cyprinoids, 402.

Dace, black-nosed, 419.

long-nosed, 420.
Daphnia, sp., 380, 384.
Darter, crimson, 360.

Olmsted's, 358.

Darwin, Professor Charles, 214.
Deer, 17.
DeKay, James E., 64, 264, 326, 336,

398, 405, 413.
Delaware River, 7, 9, 156, 180, 351,

354, 361, 363, 381, 385, 422.

Desmognathus fusca, 342.
Diadophis punctatus, 301.
Didelphys Virginiana, 84.
Diemyctelus viridescens, 340.
Dorysoma cepedianum, 399.
Duck, wood, 237.

Eels, 428, 435.

Egrets, 228.

Elk, 17.

Emys meleagris, 253.

England, fishes of, 363.

Enneacanthus simulans, 382.

obesus, 382.

Eremophila cornuta, 210.
Erimyzon sucetta, 435.
Ermine, 27.
Eskimos, 210.
Etheostomoids, 355.
Eutsenia sirtalis, 294.

saurita, 295.

Felis concolor, 8, 17.
Fiber zibethicus, 23, 73.
Fire-flies, 313.
Fishes, 351.

courtship of, 408, 438.

traces of voice in, 433.
Flying squirrel, 51.
Forster, John Reinhold, on hiberna-

tion of swallows, 159.
Forbes, Professor S. A., on food of

fishes, 387, 411.
Frog, bull, 319.

pickerel, 316.

spring, 318.

24, 348.

Galeoscoptes Carolinensis, 142.
Galton, Professor J. C., on voice of

fishes, 445.
Gar, 430.

Garzetta candidissima, 228
Gaunt, Uz, 12, 201, 242, 276, 300,

307.

Gizzard, shad, 399.
Godman, John D., 71.
Goggle-eyed perch, 367.
Goniaphea Ludoviciana, 198.
Grosbeaks, rose-breasted, 198.
Grus Canadensis, 230.

Hcrodias egretta, 231.

INDEX.

483

Herons, 226.
green, 234.
night, 234.
snowy, 228.
white, 231.

Hesperomys leucopus, 68.
Heterodon platyrhinus, 302.
Hinckley, Mary H., on life-history of

tree-toad, 327.
Hirundo horreorum, 173.
Hog-fish, 355.
Kolbrook, Dr. John Edward, on gait

of snapping-turtle, 269.
Holland, John G., on uniformity of

songs of birds, 138.
Holder, C. F., on habits of fresh-
water fishes, 384.
Hoop-snake, 109.
Horned larks, 210.
Hudson River, 398.

valley of, 156.
Hyla Pickering!!, 330.
Hy lodes gryllus, 330.
Hypentelium nigricans, 423.

Ichthaelurus punctatus, 425.
Icteria virens, 145.
Icterus, Baltimore, 129, 138.

spurius, 132.
Indians, North American, 18.

shells, heaps formed by, 423.

Jay, blue, 191.
Jerboa, 31.

Jordan, David S., manual of N. A. ver-
tebrates, by, quoted, 64, 355.
Jumping-mouse, 31.

Kalm, Peter, 18, 20, 49, 56, 73, 84,
133, 159, 171, 230, 284, 285,
290, 313, 319, 322, 323, 324.

King-fishers, feeding habits of, 214.

King-rail, 22.

Lamprey, 435, 441.
Lampyris, sp., 313.
Least bittern, 22, 227.
Lepidosteus osseus, 430.
Lepomis auritus, 367, 372.

gibbosus, 375.

pallidus, 375.

Lincecum, Dr., on habits of opossum,
92.

Lutra Canadensis, 23, 46.
Lynx rufus, 22, 24.

Mammals, extinction of large, 18.

storing of food by, 77.
Manual of vertebrates, Jordan's, 64.
Mastodon, 17.
Meadow-mouse, 65.
Melanura limi, 390.
Mephitis mephitica, 38, 279.
Mercer County, N. J., 15.
Mesogonistius chaetodon, 380.
Mice, wild, 64.
Micropterus salmoides, 367.
Milne-Edward, on skin respiration

of frogs, 274.
Mink, 34.
Minnilus amoonus, 417.

cornutus, 409, 434.
Minnows, mud, 390.

pug-nosed, 411.

rosy, 417.

silvery, 414.
Moose, 17.

Morris, Dr. Cheston, sunfish de-
scribed by, 383.
Mouse, meadow, 65.

white-footed, 68.
Mud-sucker, 423.
Mud sunfish, 367, 435.
Musk-rat, 23, 73.
Mullet, 435.

"Nature," quoted, 15.

Nanemys guttatus, 261.

Newbold's Island, rock-fish caught

near, 364.
New Jersey, geology of, 388.

snakes found in, 283.
New Sweden, 19.
Norris, Mr. Isaac, on climate of New

Jersey, 79.

Notemigonus chrysoleucus, 403.
Nyctale Acadica, 218, 220, 224.

Tengmalmi, 219.
Nyctiardea grisea, 234.

Olmsted's darter, 358.
Opossum, 84.
Ophibolus doliatus, 302.
Oriole, Baltimore, 129, 138.

orchard, 132.
Otter, 23, 46.

481

INDEX.

Otus brachyotus, 185.
Owl, barn, 221.

great-horned, 221.

saw- whet, 218, 220, 224.

short-eared, 185.

Tengmalm's, 219.
Owls, as weather-prophets, 222.

food of, 223.

Peeper, 330.

Perca flavescens, 360, 435.

Perch, goggle-eyed, 367, 385.

pirate, 386, 435.

sand, 355.

white, 366.

yellow, 360, 435.
Percina caprodes, 355.
Peschel, Oscar, 433.
Petrochelidon lunifrons, 171.
Petromyzon marinus, 435, 441.
Pickering's tree-toad, 330.
Pike-shiner, 418.
Pipilo erythrophthalmus, 141.
Pisidium, sp., 384.
Plethodon erythronotus, 343.
Plover, 201, 203, 205.
Po3celichtbys erochrous, 360.
Pomoxys sparoides, 367.
" Popular Science Monthly," quoted,

15.

Porzana Carolina, 180.
Princeton, N. J., observations on mi-
gration of birds made at, 164.
Pseudemys rugosa, 264.
Putnam, Professor F. W., on habits

of spade-foot toad, 346.
Putorius ermineus, 27.

vison, 34.
Pyrgites domesticus, 5, 195.

Rail-bird, king, 22.

little, or sora, 180.
Rain, a southerly, 242.
Rallus clcgans, 22.
Rana Catesbyana, 319.

clamitans, 318.

halecina, 317.

palustris, 316.

temporaria, 324, 348.
Rangifer caribou, 17.
Red-fins, 409, 434.
Reindeer, 17.

Rhinichthys atronasus, 419.

nasutus, 420.
Rhizopods, 381.
Roach, 403.

Robin, variation in nests of, 125.
Roccus Americanus, 366.

lineatus, 363.
Rock-fish, 363.

Rodentia, monograph of North Amer-
ican, 64.

Romanes, George J., on animal in-
telligence, 345.

Salamanders, 339.
dusky, 342.
red, 344.
red-backed, 343.
Sandpipers, 201.
Scaphiopus solitarius, 325.
"Science," quoted, 15.
" Science-Gossip," quoted, 15.
Sciuropterus volucella, 51.
Scott, W. D., on migration of birds

at night, 164.
Semotilus bullaris, 407.

corporalis, 409.
Semper, Carl, on skin respiration of

frogs, 274.

Shabbaconk Creek, 388.
Shiners, 402.
Shrews, 64, 449.
Sill-hoppe tosser, 313.
" Signal Service Notes, No. IX. " 66.
Skunk, 38, 279.
Snakes, 282, 297, 298, 303.
Snake, black, 284.

blind, 306

brown, 294.

chain, 302.

cricket, 306.

garter, 294.

green, 300.

ground, 306.

hog-nosed, 287, 310.

hoop, 169.

rattle, 285.

red, 306.

ribbon, 295.

ring, 301.

thunder and lightning, 302.

water, 291, 307.
tappers, 269, 276.
>pade-foot toad, 326.

INDEX.

485

Sparrow, English, 5, 194.
Spawn-eater, 413.
Spelerpes ruber, 344.
Squalius funduloides, 418.
Squirrels, 19.
Squirrel, flying, 51, 179.
Stacy, Mahlon, on fishes of the Dela-
ware River, 363.
Stokes, Dr. Alfred C., on food of

sunfishes, 380.
Strix pratincola, 221.
Suckers, 422.
Sunfishes, 367.
Sunfish, banded, 380.

brass-belly, 372.

common, 375.

spotted, 382.

Swallows, hibernation of, 169.
Swallow, bank, 161.

barn, 173.

cliff, 171.
Swift, chimney, 134, 174.

Tamias striatus, 58.
Terrier, skye, 39.

Thomas, Gabriel, on flying-squirrels,
56.

on bull-frogs, 322.

on tree-toads, 327.

on rock-fish, 363.

Thompson, Zadoc, " History of Ver-
mont," 391.
Thryothorus Bewickii, 149.

Ludovicianus, 6, 153.
Toad, common hop, 337.
Tortoise, box, 250.
Tree-toads, 326.
Trenton, New Jersey, 313, 364.

Triton, spotted, 340.
Troglodytes sedon, 192.
Tropidonotus sipedon, 291.
Turkey-buzzard, 24.
Turnbull, Dr. William, on birds of
East Pennsylvania and New
Jersey, 236.
Turtles, 250,* 276, 281.

voice of, 259.
Turtle, Blanding's, 253.

Muhlenberg's, 255.

mud, 265.

musk, 267.

painted, 257.

red-bellied, 264.

rough-backed, 253.

mapping, 269, 276.

spotted,. 261.

Ursus Americanus, 17, 18.

" Vermont, History of," quoted, 391.

Wallace, A. R., on philosophy of
birds' nests, 124, 129.

Wallerius, Dr., on hibernation of
swallows, 159.

Watson's Creek, 202, 384, 385, 413,
426.

Weasels, 27.

Weed, Jamestown, 6.

Winter, a walk in, 209.

Wolf, 17.

Wren, Bewick's, 149.
Carolina, 6, 153.
house, 192.

Zapus Hudsonius, 31.

THE END.

D. APPLETON & OO.'S PUBLICATIONS,

A NATURALIST'S RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. By Dr.

CHARLES C. ABBOTT. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

" The home about which the doctor rambles is clearly the haunt of fowl and
fish of animal and insect life: and it is of the habits and nature of these that he
discourses pleasantly in this book. Summer and winter, morning and evening,
he has been in the open air all the time on the alert for some new revelation of
instinct, or feeling, or character on the part of his neighbor creatures. Most that
he sees and hears he reports agreeably to us, as it was no doubt delightful to
himself. Books like this, which are free from all the technicalities of science, but
vet lack little that has scientific value, are well suited to the reading of the young.
Their atmosphere is a healthy one for boys in particular to breathe. It awakens
a noble sympathy for what is below us. It helps to overcome a natural timidity,
often increased by ignorance, which detracts much from the enjoyment many
would have in out-of-door recreation. Ever since the days of Izaak Wall on,
books like his and ' The Natural History ol Selborne ' have been popular ; but
there was never before a time when they found so many intelligent readers as
they do at present.1'— Boston Transcript.

HAND-BOOK OF TREE-PLANTING ; OR, Why to Plant,
Where to Plant, What to Plant, How to Plant. By NATHANIEL H.
EGLESTON, Chief of Forestry Division, Department of Agriculture,
Washington. 16mo, cloth, 75 cents.

" Mr. Egleston's little book ought to be read by every one— by legislators
considering the subject as a matter lor statute law; by the farmer, by the manu-
facturer, by the frontiersman, and by the ordinary citizen— for the interest of all
is affected by the interest of each."— Hartford Evening Post.

" The work especially aims to meet the wants of land-owners in those portions
of country largely destitute of forests, by furnishing the very best information
regarding the planting and culture of trees. The author does not discuss the
merits of the various ornamental trees, but treats particularly of those classes
which have a recognized value that commends them to the attention of any who
may wish to plant for use and profit. But since the laws of growth and the con-
ditions of success in planting are the same, whether one plants for use or for
ornament, this manual will be found a useful guide and helper to amateurs, and
to every one who is interested in tree-culture.' —Western Christian Advocate
{Cincinnati).

FLOWERS AND THEIR PEDIGREES. By GRANT ALLEN,
author of " Vignettes of Nature," etc. Illustrated. 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

No writer treats scientific subjects with eo much ease and charm of style as
Mr. Grant Allen. His sketches in the magazines have well been called fascinat-
ing, and the present volume, being a collection of various papers, will fully sus-
tain his reputation as an eminently entertaining and suggestive writer.

" 'Flowers and their Pedigrees,' by Grant Allen, with many illustrations, is
not merely a description of British w'ild flowers, but a discussion of why t^ey
are. what they are. and how they come to be so ; in other words, a scientific
study of the migration and transformation of plants, illustrated by the daisy, the
strawberry, the cleavers, wheat, the mountain tnlip, the cuckoo-pint, and a few
others. The study is a delightful one, and the book is fascinating to any one who
has either love for flowers or curiosity about them."— Hartford Courant.

" ' Flowers and their Pedigrees ' is a series of charming essays, by Grant Allen,
a well-known English writer, on the daisy, the strawberry, the mountain tulip,
the origin of wheat, etc. Thonch specially adapted to the latitude of England,
they will not be less interesting in this country."— New York Observer.

Xew York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'Q PUBLICATIONS,

DARWINISM STATED BY DARWIN HIMSELF: Char-
acteristic Passages from the Writiiigs of Charles Darwin. Selected
and arranged by Professor NATHAN SHEPPABD. 12mo, cloth, 360
pages, $1.50.

11 A compact and clear statement of the doctrines collectively known as Dar-
winism. By consulting this single volume it is now possible to know exactlv what
Darwin taught without sifting the contents of a dozen books. Mr Nathan'Shep-
para has edited the work with good judgment."— New York Journal of Commerce.

" Mr. Sheppard must be credited with exemplifying the spirit of impartial
truth-seeking which inspired Darwin himself. From these condensed results of
the hard labor of selection, excision, and arrangement applied to more than a
dozen volumes, it is impossible to draw any inference respecting the philosophi-
cal opinions of the compiler. With the exception of a brief preface there is not a
word of comment, nor is there the faintest indication of an attempt to infuse into
Darwin's text a meaning not patent there, by unwarranted sub-titles or head-
lines, by shrewd omission, unfair emphasis, or artful collocation. Mr. Sheppard
has nowhere swerved from his purpose of showing in a clear, connected, and very
compendious form, not what Darwin may have meant or has been charged with
meaning, but what he actually said."— The Sun.

MENTAL EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS. By GEORGE J. ROMANES,
author of "Animal Intelligence." With a Posthumous Essay on
Instinct, by CHARLES DARWIN. 12mo, cloth, $2.00.

" Mr. Romanes has followed up his careful enumeration of the facts of 'Animal
Intelligence,' contributed to the 'International Scientific Series,' with a work
dealing with the successive stages at which the various mental phenomena appenr
in the scale of life. The present installment displays the same evidence of indus-
try in collecting facts and caution in co-ordinating them by theory as the former."
— The Athenaeum.

"• The author confines himself to the psychology of the subject. Not only are
his own views Darwinian, but he has incorporated in his work considerable cita-
tions from Darwin's unpublished manuscripts, and he has appended a posthu-
mous essay on Instinct by Mr. Darwin."— Boston Journal.

"A curious but richly suggestive volume.11— New York Herald.

PRACTICAL ESSAYS. By ALEXANDER BAIN, LL. D., author of
" Mind and Body," " Education as a Science," etc. 1 2mo, cloth, $1.50.

"The present volume is in part a reprint of articles contributed to reviews.
The principal bond of union among them is their practical character. . . . That
there is a certain amount of novelty in the various suggestions here embodied, will
be admitted on the most cursory perusal."— From the Preface.

THE ESSENTIALS OF ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, AND
HYGIENE. By ROGER S. TRACY, M. D., Health Inspector of the
New York Board of Health ; author of " Hand-Book of Sanitary In-
formation for Householders," etc. (Forming a volume of Appletons'
Science Text-Books.) 12mo, cloth, $1.25.

"Dr. Tracy states in his preface that his aim has been 'to compress within
the narrowest space such a clear and intelligible account of the structures, activi-
ties, and care of the human system as is essential for the purposes of general
education.' And he has so far succeeded as to make his manual one of the most
popularly interesting and useful text-books of its kind. . . . The book is excel-
lently arranged, the illustrations are admirable." — Boston Daily Advertiser.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS,

BRAIN EXHAUSTION, with some Preliminary Considerations on
Cerebral Dynamics. By J. LEONARD CORNING, M. D., formerly Resi-
dent Physician to the Hudson River State Hospital for the Insane.
Crown 8vo, cloth, $2.00.

" The author begins by laying a broad foundation for his deductions in con-
sidering the law of the convertibility of forces to the dynamics of the brain. This
parallelism between inanimate physics and cerebral action is closely followed by
our author, and with excellent results. Dr. Corning proceeds to classify his facts,
which appear to be drawn from wide experience and study, and to marshal them
with the skill of a trained scientist. He first considers the various existing causes
which conduce to brain exhaustion in the physical sense, such as alcohol-drink-
ing, tobacco, excessive sexualism, irregular hours, etc. ; in the mental sense,
overwork, whether in study and business, fret and worry, false educational meth-
ods, etc. He concludes with a summary of the principles of brain hygienics, and
indicates very clearly how brain exhaustion may be remedied before the final and
inevitable result comes. In these latter chapters the author discusses the relation,
of blood to muscle aud brain, the relation of food to mental phenomena, rest,
special medication, etc. The book is admirably written. The style is simple,
airect, lucid, with as much avoidance as possible of technical terms and purely
professional logic. It is a timely work, which every thinking man can read with
interest without being a physician. Brain-workers everywhere can study this
able digest with both profit and pleasure."— Eclectic Magazine.

OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY, with Special Reference to the
Theory of Education. A Text-Book for Colleges. By JAMES SULLY,
A. M., Examiner for the Moral Sciences Tripos in the University of
Cambridge, etc., etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, $3.00.

u A book that has been long wanted by all who are engaged in the business of
teaching and desire to master its principles. In the first place, it is an elaborate
treatise on the human mind, of independent merit as representing the latest and
be*t work of all pchools of psychological inquiry. But of equal importance, and
what will be prized as a new and most desirable feature of a work on mental
science, is the educational applications that are made throughout in separate text
and type, so that, with the explication of mental phenomena, there comes at once
the application to the art of education."

BODY AND WILL : being an Essay concerning Will in its Meta-
physical, Physiological, and Pathological Aspects. By HENRY
MAUDSLEY, M. D. 8vo, cloth, $2.50.

" Dr. Maudslev's powers of logic have never been more keenly exercised than
in 'Body and Will,' his latest volume. He takes the ultra-materialistic view of
the human mind, and regards will as the result of definite material causes, so
that, were synthetical science a little further advanced, it would be possible,
having given physical conditions, to declare the inevitable result. The skill and
erudition displayed in 'Body and Will' are only equaled by the keenness of its
criticisms upon what, from the writer's point of view, are empirical dogmas.
No fairer or more able exposition on the latest scientific teaching upon the sub-
ject of man as a free agent is to be found than in this volume."— Boston Courier.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS,

ROSCOE'S CHEMISTRY— Part II of Volume III.

A Treatise on Chemistry. By H. E. ROSCOE, F. R. S., and C. SCHOR-
LEMMER, F. R. S., Professors of Chemistry in the Victoria Univer-
sity, Owens College, Manchester. Volume III — Part II. THE
CHEMISTRY OP THE HYDROCARBONS AND THEIR DERIVATIVES, OR
ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. Completing the work. One vol., 8vo, 656
pages. Cloth, $5.00.

*#* TJie previous volumes are :

Inorganic Chemistry. Vols. I and II. Vol. I. NON-METALLIC ELE-
MENTS. 8vo. $5.00 ; Vol. II. Part I. METALS. 8vo. $3.00 ;
Vol. II. Part II. METALS. 8vo. $3.00.

Organic Chemistry. Vol. III. Part I. THE CHEMISTRY OF THE HYDRO-
CARBONS AND THEIR DERIVATIVES, OR ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. 8vO.
$5.00.

" It is difficult to praise too highly the selection of materials and their arrange-
ment, or the wealth of illustrations 'which explain and adorn the text."— London
Academy.

ELEMENTS OF CHEMISTRY. By Professor F. W. CLARKE,
Chemist of the United States Geological Survey. (Appletons' Science
Text-Books.) 12mo, cloth, $1.50.

"The author in this text-book presents the difficulties of chemical science to
elementary students progressively, and has so arranged the helps in the text and
notes that those who have to study without a teacher cnn readily make certain
progress. To those who study the science as a part of their general education,
and apply it merely to the every-day applications of life, this book will be found
amply complete. To such as seek an advanced course of technical chemical train-
ing, this work will serve aa a sound, scientific basis for higher study. The experi-
ments cited are simple, and can be readily performed by the student himself with
apparatus and materials easily secured. The questions and exercises at the end
of the book are not exhaustive, but suggestive and stimulating to further investiga-
tion. The book is divided into two parts. Inorganic and Organic Chemistry.
An appendix give? a comparative table of English and metric tables, etc.''—
Boston Journal of Education.

TEXT-BOOK OF SYSTEMATIC MINERALOGY. By

HILLARY BAUERMAN, F. G. S., Associate of the Royal School of Mines.
16mo, cloth, $2.25.

TEXT-BOOK OF DESCRIPTIVE MINERALOGY. By

HILLARY BAUERMAN, F. G. S., Associate of the Royal School of Minea
16mo, cloth, $2.25.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & GO.'S PUBLICATIONS,

A PHYSICAL TREATISE O1V ELECTRICITY AND
MAGNETISM. By J. E. H. GORDON, B. A. Camb., Member of
the International Congress of Electricians, Paris, 1881; Manager of
the Electric Light Department of the Telegraph Construction and
Maintenance Company. SECOND EDITION, revised, rearranged, and
enlarged. Two volumes, 8vo, with about 312 full-page and other
Illustrations. Cloth, $10.00.

"There is certainly no book in English— we think there is none in any other
language— which covers quite the same ground. It records the most recent ad-
vances in the experimental treatment of electrical problems, it describes with
minute carefulness the instruments and methods in use in physical laboratories,
and is prodigal of beautifully executed diagrams and drawings made to scale."—
London Times.

" The fundamental point in the whole work is HP perfect reflection of all that
is best in the modern modes of regarding electric and magnetic forces, and in
the modern methods of constructing electrical instruments."— Engineering.

A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON ELECTRIC LIGHTING.

By J. E. H. GORDON, author of "A Physical Treatise on Electricity
and Magnetism"; Member of the Paris Congress of Electricians.
With Twenty-three full-page Plates, and numerous Illustrations in
the Text. 8vo. Cloth, $4.50.

" This work has been in preparation for some two years, and has been modi-
fled again and again as the science of which it treats has progressed, in order
that it might indicate the state of that science very nearly up to the present
date." — trom Preface.

THE MODERN APPLICATIONS OF ELECTRICITY.

By E. HOSPITALIER. New edition, revised, with many Additions.
Translated by Julius Maier, Ph. D.
Vol. I. ELECTRIC GENERATORS, ELECTRIC LIGHT.

Vol. II. TELEPHONE : Various Applications, Electrical Transmission of
Energy.

Two volumes, 8vo. With numerous Illustrations. $8.00.
"M. Hospitaller distinguishes three source? of electricity, namely, the decora
position of metals or other decomposable bodies in acid or alkaline solutions,
the transformation of heat into electrical energy, and lastly the conversion of
work into current— giving rise to the three specific modes of force styled respect-
ively galvanism, thermo-electricity, and dynamic electricity. He gives a history
of the progress of each, from the first crude constructions of the pioneer to the
latest and most perfect form of battery, thus furnishing the a Indent of science
with a sufficiently copious text-book of the subject, while at the same time
attording to tn-3 electrical engineer a valuable encyclongedia of his profession.
1 he work prese its a most useful and thorough compendium of the principles and
practice o* electrical engineering, written as only an expert can write to whom
the abstruse by long study has become simple. The translator has acted the
part of an editor also, and has added considerable material of value to the origi-
nal text."— New York Times.

New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

MAXIMS OF PUBLIC HEALTH.

ByO. W. WIGHT, M.D., Health Officer of Detroit. 16mo, cloth, 75
cents.

" The appearance of this hand-book is most timely. There is a vague appre-
hension that the cholera may visit the United States next year. Everybody
wants to know what to do for the exclusion or limitation of the dread disease.
Dr. O. W. Wight, to whom we owe these 'Maxims of Public Health.' speaks
with the voice of authority. He has been for six years Health Officer of Detroit,
and has made epidemics the subject of patient aud earnest study. Here we have
the fruits of all his experience and observation. His book ought to be placed in
the hands of every person connected in any way with health boards in all parts
of the country. It is invaluable for instant reference in an emergency. J)r.
Wight proves his competency to speak on this subject by the emphasis he puts
on cleanliness of houses and streets as the best safeguard against pestilence."—
New York Journal of Commerce.

" Dr. Wight is to be commended, not only for reiterating the dangers to which
we are subject, both in city and country, from unsanitary surroundings, but
because he has clothed his thoughts in virile, understandable English. He has
the ordinary scientific view of filth as the breeder of certain contagious diseases
—scarlet fever, typhoid fever, diphtheria and the like— but has a new idea con-
cerning the removal of sewage before it putrefies. As he puts it in the preface,
' the only way to get rid of sewer-gas is not to make any.' It is a pleasure to
read his thoughts ; they can not be other than a great boon to the unprofessional
man, for whom they are specially written.1"— Hartford Evening 2'ost.

"The intelligent householder who has no time, perhaps no inclination, for
systematic studies, may read these'maxims with a quick comprehension of their
import, and find hints that will save himself and his loved ones unspeakable
pain and sorrow. To say nothing of his success as a medical practitioner, Dr.
Wight gives in this valuable book the result of six years of personal experience
insanitary administration. We heartily commend it to the careful reading of
all who would be prepared to ward off any epidemic that should make its appear-
ance in their midst, or who would have everything about their premises of the
most healthful character."— Boston Home Journal.

" Dr. Wight's heart is at his pen's point in every page of his book, and he is
as exhaustive upon every phase of human life and suffering and exposure and
economy, as he is on the school." — St. Paul Dispatch.

"A little volume which condenses within less than two hundred pages a vast
amount of sanitary science . . . The book is evidently the result of long and
close attention to the subject, and, being designed for the general reader, it gives
the results of investigation and experiment without burdening them with de-
tails of the processes by which they have been reached. It is a book which should
be studied by all."— Chicago Daily Times.

" This is a timely and most instructive as well as interesting series of para-
graphs on sanitary subjects, which ought to be read in every household and
board of health." — Newark Daily Advertiser.

"He plunges into the subject of city drainage, handling the topic with euch
skill and precision as prove him a past master of hygienic science. Every
possible phase of house, stable, and city drainage, and sanitation, is explained
and discussed."— Detroit Evening News.

For sale by all booksellers ; or will be sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt
of price.

New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

>