Camps and cruises of an ornithologist

CAMPS AND CRUISES

2] OF AN

ORNITHOLOGIST

ls

FRANK M.CHAPMAN

CORNELL
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

LABORATORY
OF ORNITHOLOGY
LIBRARY

Pg me : me tae

OOD Pec Prme

Cornell University

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

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CAMPS AND CRUISES

OF AN

ORNITHOLOGIST

By FRANK M. CHAPMAN,

Curator of Birds in the American Museum of
Natural History.

HANDBOOK OF BIRDS OF EASTERN NORTH AMERICA.
With Keys to the Species, Descriptions of their
Plumages, Nests, etc., and their Distribution and
Migrations. With over 200 Illustrations. 12mo.
Liprary EDITION, $3.00.

PockeET EDIri0Nn, flexible covers, $3.50.

BIRD-LIFE. A Guide to the Study of Our Common Birds.
PoPruLaR EDITION in colors, $2.00 net.

BIRD STUDIES WITH A CAMERA. With Introductory
Chapters on the Outfit and Methods of the Bird Photographer.

Illustrated with over 100 Photographs from Nature
by the Author. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

THE WARBLERS OF NORTH AMERICA.
With Contributions from other Ornithologists and
24 full-page Colored Plates illustrating every
Species, from Drawings by L. A. Fuertes and B.
Horsfall, and Half-tones of Nests and Eggs. 8vo.
Cloth, $3.00 net.

CAMPS AND CRUISES OF AN ORNITHOLOGIST.

Illustrated by 250 Photographs from Nature by
the Author. 8vo. Cloth, $3.00 net.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

Flamingoes Feeding Young. (See page 187.)
From a photograph colored hy Bruce Horsfall.

CAMPS AND CRUISES

OF AN

ORNITHOLOGIST

BY

FRANK M. CHAPMAN

CURATOR OF ORNITHOLOGY, AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
FELLOW OF THE AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION; AUTHOR OF
‘*HANDBOOK OF BIRDS OF EASTERN NORTH AMERICA ”’
‘“BIRD-LIFE;’’ ‘‘ BIRD STUDIES WITH A
CAMERA,’’ ETC.

WITH 250 PHOTOGRAPHS FROM NATURE
BY THE AUTHOR

NEW YORK
I. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1908

SIX S Sa

COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Published November, 1908

I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME TO

HERMON C. BUMPUS
DIRECTOR OF THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
IN RECOGNITION OF HIS INVALUABLE AID AND ADVICE

AND TO THOSE
MEMBERS OF THE MUSEUM

WHOSE CO-OPERATION HAS MADE POSSIBLE THE
WORK ON WHICH IT IS BASED

Map Indicating Localities Visited

PREFACE

During the past seven years, with the assistance of artist and
preparateur, I have devoted the nesting season of birds to collecting
specimens and making field studies and photographs on which to base a
series of what have been termed “ Habitat Groups” of North Ameri-
can birds for the American Museum of Natural History.

These groups are designed to illustrate not only the habits and
haunts of the birds shown, but also the country in which they live. The
birds and, in most instances, their nests and young, are therefore
placed in a facsimile reproduction, containing from sixty to one hun-
dred and sixty square feet of the locality in which they are found, and
to this realistic representation of their habitat is added a background,
painted from nature, and so deftly joined to the foreground, that it is
difficult to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. (See the
photographs of groups on pages, 62, 110, 231, 243, 291.)

In selecting the subjects for these groups, not alone birds, but the
country they inhabit has been taken into consideration; it being desired
to have the series of great panoramic backgrounds, some of which are
twenty-eight feet in length, portray not only the haunts of certain
American birds, but America as well. Characteristic shore, marsh,
prairie, plain, desert, forest, and mountain scenes present the major
features of American physiography, and each is executed with an ac-
curacy which gives to the groups a geographical as well as an ornitho-
logical value.

Some subjects were in nearby localities, which were easily visited;
others were in remote places which were reached with more or less difh-
culty. In some cases an entire season was given to gathering the mater-
ial for a single group—that of the Flamingoes, for example; in others.

several groups were secured in a single season, the Bahaman Man-o’-

viii PREFACE

War Birds, for instance, being obtained in April, the Carolina Egrets
in May, the Saskatchewan Geese in June, and the Alberta Ptarmigan in
July, 1907.

No ornithologist, I imagine, has ever pursued his calling with
greater pleasure and satisfaction than I have experienced in gathering
the material and data for these groups of birds. Not only has it been
my fortune to behold some of the most interesting and remarkable
sights in the world of birds, but it has been my privilege to have them
reproduced in so admirable a manner that they convey to others a
wholly adequate conception of the scene itself.

I desire now further to perpetuate these experiences and studies by
telling the story of the various expeditions of which the groups were
the objects, adding such information concerning the birds observed as
seems worthy of record, and illustrating the whole with many photo-
graphs from nature and a number of the groups themselves.

It is a pleasure to acknowledge here my indebtedness to the co-la-
borers who have been associated with me in this seven years’ task; to
Mrs. Chapman, always my first field assistant, to Hermon C. Bumpus,
whose suggestions and advice have been invaluable, to Louis Agassiz
Fuertes, artist and tried camp-mate, to Carlos Hittell, Bruce Horsfall
and Hobart Nichols, artists, to J. D. Figgins, preparateur, to H. C.
Denslow, Herbert Lang, and E. W. Smith, taxidermists. Without the
cooperation of these efficient fellow workers the undertaking in which
this book has its origin, could not have been brought to a successful
conclusion.

Several of the following chapters have appeared in ““The Century,”
“Scribner's,” “Country Life in America,” “Outing,” and ‘“Bird-Lore,”
but the greater number have not before been published.

F d Frank M. Cuapman.
American Museum of

Natural History.
October, 1908.

CONTENTS

Page
aE ENYA, CnGact nes cate arn ae at Oy RRR eae CEO ht See Ch ORY Fe gr vii
TEN TRODU CDLON oe tasderyceeiekey cose nae tes Ue aaa ae Hoe RS xl
PART I.
Travers Asour Home
FETE CVV a yis40 Gaal ny Stara weep eae ees Ciara ee enn Sener se 5
A Morning with Meadowlarks.............00. ce cc eee e ee ees 15
Bird-Nesting with Burroughs ...............0 000.000.0000 20
ANighthawk: Inierdent® is.-aideuc Scns pte ata aes Reha h es 29
PART II.

Tue Birp-Lire or Two Atriantic Coast IsLanps
Gardiner's: Island» 244.2 5h ib sens bed Seah wean oS OS es 38
Cop brseds amd baw Biccpemanrascoy ave ore aurea ead ee teat sear ae ret eae A 63

PART III.
Fronipa Birp-Lire
Pelican Usha. ee oes a Be el das ie erat See eis caked 83
The Florida Great Blue Heron and the Water Turkey.......... 113
RhesAmerican: Weret a4 pnb ae oe eo Wart ee he eae eee 123
Cuthbert: Rook enya os iss weg os Hitachi eta We oon Dace wieed eats Cees 135
PART IV.
Bauama Birp-Lire
Phe Blaming oy ¢ vais ca yeke eins Sian eee Seg chee eb GS Ged 155
her Big oe sD ind Syst sniesel cater wiaueen Mactan hanes fea Sih ph aan ae 192

The Booby and the Man-o’-War Bird.....................0.. 200

x CONTENTS

Page
PART V.
Tue Story or THREE WeEsTERN Birp Groups

Thes Prairies Hen® js 22-25 Sse ne ee ee ee ee 229
A: Goldew Eagle's: Nest... sic sens a tie wer eare os eteom genet bee ene tras 236
Cactus: Desert 2B indaleit esx cox ssten rancoe: eiaes es pres ey teete ge tee eee eet see 242

PART VI.

Birp Stupigs IN CALIForNIA

‘The: Coastal “Mountains: at Paris dice sec oss, fsa d-o ce nee eee 259
The Coastzat Wonterey <a sae ccy oat casera ean neta eg eee mena 267
"Whe. -Parallomes: ess gy a.5-3 aoe to ee QT 4
The San Joaquin Valley at Los Banos.................--.--- 286
Mower: Klamath lake ssc 24 414 1 eae ee ee 204
HERG PS TCV aS: Seiad ge hd Rk Ae cee Oe PE ees 305

PART VII.

Birp-Live 1s Western CANADA

Whe @Prairiés? Foye Ses eee aie ee gcse een Ge eee eee eR 315
MPihe Plain sh areas ces osqeg Veen cease etek wetaete ee ee eet 3
The = Mountains: tions ae sre ces oor eee en eae eR en ea 350
ihe; Wihites (Pleliceing i004 seen ete arn ea eet een eee 367

PART VIII.
Impressions of English Bird-Life.......................... 391
INDEX ATO. [TAG US TRATIONS ccataacs tense erosion meee a eae ee 417

2d bik oy op: Guta oye Dob Gs Wale renen Mere in sheen re punseP Rte! sn hod SRN acacwad? SNS 421

INTRODUCTION

T earnestly hope that the photographs in this volume
will so effectively illustrate the part the camera may play
in definitely recording facts in bird-life, that they will stim-
ulate fresh interest in the subject of bird photography. To
further this end [add here a word to what I have said on
the outfit of the bird photographer in ‘‘Bird Studies with a
Camera’’.

So far as cameras and lens are concerned, I have found
no reason to change the advice offered in that volume. I
still use a reflecting camera of the ‘‘Graflex’’ type, and also
a tripod camera each with a bellows length of fifteen inches,
and carrying plates four by five inches.

With about twenty exceptions all the pictures in this
book were made with the lens deseribed in ‘‘ Bird Studies
with a Camera’’. It isa Bausch & Lomb Convertible Series
Vila No. 10, F. 6. 3., with a foeal length of eight inches, the
component lenses having each a focal length of fourteen
inches. Although these single lenses are rated with a speed
of only F. 12.5., I have found no difficulty in making satis-
factory pictures of birds in flight with an exposure of one-
thousandth of a second, the lens being wide open.

The single lens will not, of course, do the work of the
doublet and, if one can afford a No. 19 lens of the same
series with a focal length of thirteen and one-eighth inches,
the components being each of twenty-three and one-eighth
inch focus, he will materially increase his chances of sue-
cess: but were I to be restricted to one lens and one camera,
IT should take the lens first mentioned, and a camera of the
reflecting type. Seventy-five per cent. of the pictures in
this book were made with an outfit of this kind.

xil INTRODUCTION

Of far more importance than the kind of camera or lens
is the question of a blind which will enable one, wiseen, to
get and stay within range of one’s subject. I frankly con-
fess that when writing ‘‘Bird Studies with a Camera’’, I
did not appreciate the importance of this matter. If one
would study the habits of wild creatures under natural con-
ditions, it is absolutely essential that they be unalarmed by
your presence. The observer who is content with mental
impressions and note-book descriptions, may often find
cover whence, with the aid of field-glasses, he can see to
advantage without the object of his study being aware of
his proximity. But he who besides written descriptions
would also record his observations in that more graphic,
conmunicable form of which photography admits, must be
much nearer his subject and must have cover from the shel-
ter of which he may manipulate his camera without being
detected. In short, he must have an artificial blind. It is
the first requisite of such a blind that it be easily transport-
able; it should also be inconspicuous and so simple in con-
struction that it may be quickly erected. The results of my
first attempt (1900) to make a structure which would fill
all these requirements, is shown on page 7, in the study of
the Blue Jays. It was a ridiculously complicated affair of
upright sticks and iron hoops, around which was placed
a canvas painted in the somewhat distant semblance of
bark. Ths affair was supposed to be an initation tree
trunk, and illustrates how far one may be carried on the
wrong road by a false premise. The fundamental error in
this case was the belief that the blind must be like some
object in nature. As a matter of fact, this is not necessary.
It should be as inconspicuous as possible and it is often
more quickly accepted if it be partly disguised with bushes
or vines. But its chief virtue is its immovability. It may
excite suspicion fora time, but its inanimateness finally
wins and, to the birds, it becomes a part of the landscape to
be perched on if convenient.

INTRODUCTION xiil

This at least has been my experience with the blind from
the shelter of which more than one-half the pictures in this
volume were made. In brief, this blind is an umbrella
opened within a bag long enough to fall to the ground. Its
parts may be deseribed in detail as follows:

The Umbrellaa—The unbrella employed in making an
observation blind is known to the trade asa ‘‘sign’’ um-
brella. It agrees with the normal variety in size but differs
from it in having a large hole in the
centre. This permits a current of
air to pass through the blind—a
matter of the first importance when
one spends hours in the little strue-
ture on beach or marsh, where it is
fully exposed to the sun. The
‘*stick’’ of this umbrella is a metal

tube without the usual wooden | ||
handle. | |

The Supporting Rod—The um- | ||
brella is supported by two brass | |
tubes each of the same length as the |
umbrella, or thirty-two inches. The
larger is shod with a steel point, by
the insertion of a small cold chisel
or nail-punch, which is brazed in
position. The rod can then he pie thenients
readily driven into the ground. At ana supporting Rods
the upper end a_ thumb-screw is
placed. The smaller tube should enter the larger snugly
and should in turn, be just large enough to receive the wn-
brella-rod which will enter it as far as the spring ‘‘catch’’.
The height of the umbrella may, therefore, be governed by
the play of the smaller tube in the larger, while the thumb-
serew will permit one to maintain any desired adjustment ;
as one would fix the height of a music rack.

The Covering.—lIf the blind is to be used about home, a

———— —

xiv INTRODUCTION

light denim may be employed; if it is to see the harder ser-
vice of travel and camp-life, a heavier grade of the same
material will be found more serviceable. In the former case
the denim may be sewed to the edge of the umbrella, which
then has only to be opened and placed in the brass tube, the
latter have been thrust into the ground, when the blind is
erected; an operation requiring less than a minute.

When travelling, it seems more desirable not to attach
the walls of the blind to the umbrella. The covering then
consists of several strips of material sewed together to
make a piece measuring ten and a half feet wide by six and
a half feet high. The two ends of this piece are sewed to-
gether at what then becomes the top of the blind, for about
two feet. The unjoined portion below, becomes the door of
the blind. Openings should be cut in the opposite side for
the lens and for observation. <A strong draw cord is then
run about the top edge of the cloth so that, before inserting
and opening the umbrella, one can draw it up as one would
the neck of a bag, until the opening corresponds in size to
that of the umbrella. The draw cord should be long enough
to serve as a guy or stay. This covering places less strain
on the umbrella and may be packed in smaller space than
one which is sewed to the umbrella, and, when in camp, it
may be used to sleep on, asa covering, as a shelter tent or
in a variety of ways.

The color of the umbrella should be leaf-green. The
covering should be sand- or earth-colored and should be
dyed leaf-green on its upper third whence it should gradu-
ally fade to the original cloth color at about the center.
Such a color scheme conforms to Abbott Thayer’s law that
animals are darkest where they receive the most light, and
palest where they are most in shadow; and renders the blind
much less conspicuous than if it were uniformly green or
gray. It is not amiss torun belts of braid about the cover-
ing, sewing them to it at intervals and thus forming loops
in which, when desired, reeds or branches may be thrust.

INTRODUCTION XV

In erecting the blind, if circumstances permit, it is desir-
able to place the ‘‘door’’ toward the wind to insure better
ventilation. When the situation is exposed, an additional
Stay or two may be required. If the camera box is not
strong enough to sit on, a collapsible, artist’s camp-stool
should he added to the outfit. One cannot spend half a day

The Umbrella Blind at a Warbling Vireo’s Nest

The covering is here secured to the edge of an ordinary um-
brella, lacking the essential ventilation hole. (Shoal Lake,
Man.. June, 1901. See p. 319.)
in such close quarters and observe and record to advantage
unless one is comfortable seated.

Within the shelter of this ‘‘cloak of invisibility,’’ I have
passed the most enjoyable and, I hope, profitable hours of
my life as a field naturalist. There is a supreme and whole-
some pleasure in feeling that one has reached a point of
vantage from which the drama of animal life may be studied
without the performers knowing that they are under obser-
vation. Wholly aside from the often thrilling novelty of

Xvi INTRODUCTION

the experience and the thought that, even if unconsciously,
one has been accepted as a part of the surroundings, there
is a well-founded satisfaction in realizing that one is making
an actual contribution to our knowledge of animal life, not
based on the study of creatures in captivity, or of those
placed under greater or less restraint by fear, but of ani-
mals in their native haunts,..living.their lives under abso-
lutely natural conditions.

The Umbrella Blind near a Fish Hawk’s Nest

The cover is here detachable. In addition to the guys, stones have been
placed on the bottom of the cover to help stay the blind in this exposed
situation. (Gardiner’s Island, June, 1908. The pictures on pages 56 and
57 were made from the blind in this position.)

PART I.

TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

THE WAYS OF JAYS
A MORNING WITH MEADOWLARKS
BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS

A NIGHTHAWK INCIDENT

TRAVELS ABOUT HOME
INTRODUCTORY.

The nature of the work for which, in the main, the field
studies herein recorded have been made, has led me to the
more remote parts of our country ; but I should convey a
a whelly wrong impression of the possibilities of bird study,
if I permitted this volume to appear without saying a word
of the opportunities which lie within the reach of the local
bird student.

Continuous and definitely directed observation is the
secret of success in the study of bird-life ; and only that
permanency of residence which permits us to keep a close
watch on the species, through the year, and on the individ-
ual through the nesting season, will enable us to write an
adequate history of its life.

I would emphasize the necessity of specialization. It may
almost be said with truth that most of our knowledge of
birds has been acquired by accident, so haphazard have been
our methods of study. But, for this very reason, there is
abundant opportunity for the student who, not content with
a general knowledge of birds, determines to make himself an
authority on some particular bird, preferably the one most
abundant in his own neighborhood. If he does justice to his
subject, he will never lack an outlet for his ornithological
ambitions.

As has been intimated, circumstances have deprived me
of the privilege of acquiring a more intimate knowledge of
my own home birds and I cannot, therefore, present that type
of bird biography which considers the bird throughout the
year or during the season of its presence. Nevertheless, it

4

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2
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4
&
, 3

sa!

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perched beside her nest

ith complete composure,

“ow

(Page 9)

4 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

is hoped that the sketches which are here given, will show
what interesting facts are to be gathered at our doorsteps.

The story of the Blue Jays, for example, reveals as much
of the bird mind as any experience I have had with birds.
The little Meadowlark study required greater effort, for a
time, than any other deseribed in this volume and the results
were valued proportionately. The photographic record of
two days at ‘‘ Slabsides ’’? shows what interesting results
may be obtained both easily and quickly. In short, to see
old birds in a new light one has only to look at them through
a camera.

11

fhrasher

Brown

THE WAYS OF JAYS

If a pair of Blue Jays, whose home I chanced to find
near mine, could relate to us the peculiar adventures that
befell them one June day, there would be no excuse for my
assumption of the office of seribe. But Jays, in spite of their
powers of expression, use only the laneuage of their kind,
and if the tale is to be told, it must be by an interpreter.

Birds possess so many of man’s mental attributes that
the sympathetic student of their habits often, unconsciously
perhaps, endows them with the mind of man entire, when,
using the human parallel, the explanation of their every act
is merely a matter of ingenuity or imagination. The result
is often interesting, but quite as often misleading ; good
fiction, but poor natural history.

Now, the Blue Jay holds close kinship with the Raven,
Jackdaw, Crow, and Rook, birds which, if classification were
based on mental development alone, would without dissent,
be accorded a perch on the topmost bough of the avian tree
of life. In attempting to assign reasons for a Jay’s actions,
the ornithologist is beset by unusual temptations, which, if
it be the human side of bird life that appeals to him, he will
find difficulty in resisting.

In the present instance, however, the facts in the case are
irrefutably recorded by the camera, and the reader may
accept or reject their explanation according to his behef or
disbelief in the intelligence of individual animals. Facts
like these emphasize the value of the camera as an aid to the
student of nature. How comparatively unconvincing is the
work of the artist, no matter how skilful his attempt to give
form to something he has never seen. It is also to be noted,
how attempts to photograph birds and beasts of necessity
increase our intimacy with them. This, it is true, is not

6 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

work for the stroller and the dilettante naturalist, whose
observations are made chiefly from the wayside, but for the
earnest, enthusiastic student of nature, whose ardor in pur-
suit of her secrets is intensified by the possibility of actually
capturing them, in such definite, graphic form that they
become at once tangible additions to the sum of human
knowledge.

Bird photography presents a fascinating but most diffi-
cult field for expenditure of effort. The beginner sees the
successful results of another’s work, and, knowing nothing
of the failures, determines to ‘‘take bird pictures.’’ The
immediate outcome is doubtless a sacrifice of photographic
material and also of bird life, as too great freedom with the
nest surroundings, in the desive to secure better lighting,
induces the bird to desert her home.

The would-be photographer, then, should master the tech-
nique of photography on such patiently immovable objects
as houses, barns, or bridges, which will give fresh ‘‘ sit-
tings ’? when former ones fail, and then, when the problems
of exposure, developing, ete., have been solved, he may go
afield for wilder ganie.

One may pet or patronize, according to one’s nature, a
Chipping Sparrow, Bluebird, or Phoebe, but he is indeed
well coated with self-esteem who does not feel a sense of
inferiority in the presence of a Jay. He is such a shrewd, in-
dependent, and aggressive creature that one is inevitably led
to the belief that he is more of a suecess as a bird than most
men are as men. Conspicuous by voice and action during
the fall and winter, when other birds are quiétest, he
becomes silent when other birds are most voeal. If he hasa
love song it is reserved for the ear of his mate. At this sea-
son, he even controls his fondness for owl-baiting, and with
it his vituperative gifts.

The Robin, the Catbird, and the Thrasher seem eager to
betray the location of their nest to every passer-by, but the
Blue Jay gives no evidence of the site of his habitation by

THE WAYS OF JAYS 7

being seen in its vicinity. He is not common in my region
during the summer, and, conecting this faet with his secre-
tive habits, I rejoiced with a bird-lover’s joy, when syste-
matic search resulted in the discovery of a Blue Jay’s nest
five feet from the ground, on the south side of a young pine
tree. A better location from a bird-photographer’s point of
view, the birds could not have chosen.

The Blind and the Nest-Tree

The surroundings affording no opportunity for conceal-
ment from which the birds might be observed, an artificial
bower of canvas, painted to resemble tree-bark, stretched
over a light frame and liberally draped with poison-ivy
vines, was erected within ten feet of the nest.

It was on the morning of June 3, that I set up my camera
in this none too large or too cool shelter, with the object of
recording somewhat of the home life of Jays. An hour
passed. Occasionally a Jay’s voice was heard from the

8 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

neighboring wood; one might have thought that the nest in
the pine was deserted, had not five gaping mouths been tre-
mulously raised at intervals in the supplicating attitude of
the young birds’ praver for food.

At the end of an hour and a half, one of the parents sud-
denly appeared at the back of the nest. He, or she, was evi-
dently suspicious. Who had parted the boughs that had
previously concealed their home? What was this mass of
disarranged vines at their threshold? Clearly something
was wrong, and after a moment’s stay, she—if she it was—-
slipped quietly out of the tree. Her alert but cautious man-
ner seemed indicative of unexpected powers of discrimina-
tion and self-control. She did not voice her undoubted
alarm at the changes observed, but, without audible note,
departed as noiselessly as she had come.

Hven more surprising were the actions of the young
birds. That they were exceedingly hungry was beyond
question. Doubtless the parents, under normal conditions,
visited the nest every few minutes, and the frequeney with
which the yellow-lined mouths had been opend during the
preceding hour and a half, intimated an approaching fam-
ine. Still, under the stimulus of conditions which must have
strongly suggested food, not one of the blind, naked little
creatures gave evidence of life. It was an impressive exhi-
bition of instinctive obedience to some, unheard by me, com-
mand. In the parent’s absence, however, although without
the incentive of her form above them, they showed no hesi-
tation in making their wants known. Hence we may con-
clude either that the parents could not communicate with
the young from a distance, or that the presence of one of the
adults was necessary to insure obedience.

Believing that the Jays would not resume their family
cares, I determined to experiment with them, and taking a
mounted Blue Jay, I wired it to a limb below the nest. Blue
Jays are pugnacious, and doubtless their anger at the in-
trusion of this stranger would outweigh their fear of the

THE WAYS OF JAYS 9

bower, when I should witness the manner in which Jays
evict an unwelcome guest. It was well that my reputation
as a bird-student was not staked on the result. Searcely
had | returned to the bower, when one of the Jays reached
the nest, and, to my complete astonishinent, apparently paid
no attention to the mounted bird, but at once carefully fed
her young, whose eagerness now added to my wonder at
their previous self-restraint. One visit, during which sev-
eral, and perhaps all, of the young were fed, strangely
enough satisfied their hunger, when the parent with com-
plete composure, perched beside her nest and slightly open-
ed her bill, as birds sometimes do when at rest, forming as
beautiful a picture of bird life as artist or naturalist could
well desire. So completely had the mental attitude of the
bird altered, that my movements in the bower were wholly
ignored, and it was actually necessary to walk up to the
nest-tree before she could be mduced to leave her pereh.

What had occasioned so complete a change in the bird’s
actions ? Possibly it was not the same parent that had
visited the nest so hurriedly; but if this one of the pair was
so much the tamer, why had it not come to the nest during
the hour and a half after [ had entered the bower? = Could
the dummy bird below have been mistaken for its mate by
the bird that perched so composedly above? — It is true that
the second one of the pair did not appear; but as neither of
them went far from the nest, it is more than probable that
the absent mate was within sight and sound during the
whole proceeding.

We may resort to explanatory theories more or less
plausible. The humanizer of birds might ask us to believe
that the dummy Jay resembled a relative or dear friend of
the nest-owners, from whom they were expecting a call that
morning, though to my mind, the incident proved that the
Jay could not distinguish the difference between a living
bird and a poorly mounted one of its own species. However,
be the explanation what it may, there can he no doubt that

10 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

the presence of that frowzy, stuffed Jay was wholly satisfac-
tory and reassuring to the bird at the nest.

If these birds received one of their own kind so gracious-
ly, how would they treat a Sereech Owl, a bird which, as far
as human mind can discern, is the common enemy of all
Jays? The dummy Jay was therefore removed, and a
mounted Screech Owl was securely fastened about two feet
from the nest. The Jays were not visible, but that they
were watching my movements from the neighboring wood,
was shown by the tense
note of alarm they uttered
almost as soon as the Owl
was posed—a high, shrill
eall, differmg from any J
had previously heard.

The moment I entered
my bower, a Jay came to
the nest-tree, screaming
in alarm at the uncon-
scious, vellow-eved bunch.
of feathers so dangerous-
ly near its offspring. Soon
it was joined by its mate,
and with uncontrolled
fear and excitement they
flew from limb to limb,
i : but, much to my surprise,

“From near-by limbs they shrieked made no attempt to attack

eS ate or even threaten the Owl
and, after a minute or two of wild flitting and calling, they
returned to the woods. Surely this was enough to destroy
one’s confidence in our supposed knowledge of the Jay’s
character; but the birds soon further illustrated the danger
of theorizing.

While the supposition credits them with a power of rea-
soning I am not prepared to say they possessed, their sub-

THE WAYS OF JAYS 11

sequent actions seemed strongly to indicate that they had
mentally grappled with this wholly unexpected problem
which had so suddenly confronted them, and, after due con-
sultation, had reached certain conclusions upon which they
acted. In any event, the incident serves well to illustrate
the ease with which one uses the human parallel in deserib-
ing the conduct of animals, from the point of view of the
sympathetic observer eager to recognize human traits in
bird and beast—indeed, to claim kinship with them.

In this particular instance the Jays had already thorough-
ly aroused my interest, and it needed little imagination to
put myself in their
place and conjecture
my own actions if, with-
out a moment’s warn-
ing, I should see the
ogre of my tribe, a
creature whose power
experience had taught
me to fear, standing at
my threshold. That
should for a time lose
my self-possession and
perhaps call aloud in
alarm, would seem
wholly natural, and in
view of the superior
strength and armament of the enemy, it would also be ex-
pected that I should consult the partner of my joys and sor-
rows, and now companion in arins, as to the most expedient
method of conquering this intruder without undue risk.

Be this as it may, after flying about the nest-tree for sev-
eral minutes in the wildest and most aimless, and excited
manner, the birds deserted the place and retired to the
woods. Then I heard them uttering for the first time the low,
conversational eck, eck, eck, note of their kind. It is a note

“Screaming in alarm”

12 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

which I have never heard from a solitary Jay, and is prob-
ably used for purposes of intercommunication. One fre-
quently hears it froma party of Jays when they are gather-
ing chestnuts or acorns.

For ten seconds or more the discussion, if discussion it
was, continued, and at the end of this time a plan of battle
had evidently been decided upon, which they lost no time in
translating into action. They returned to the nest-tree, not

“ Placed them in a row on the limb of a neighboring pine tree”

now a screaming pair of excited, frenzied birds which in the
control of an unheard-of experience had completely lost
their heads, but two determined, silent creatures, with a
seemingly well-fixed purpose. The difference in their ac-
tions, when the two visits to the nest were compared, was in
truth sufficiently impressive to warrant a belief in the birds’
ability to grasp the situation intelligently.

Without a moment’s hesitation, one of the pair now se-
lected a pereh above the Owl, paused only long enough to

THE WAYS OF JAYS 13

take aim, and then, with a flash of wings, sprang at its sup-
posed enemy. What followed, the camera, although set for
a hundredth part of a second, failed definitely to record.
The heart of the little pine seemed rent by the explosion of
a Blue Jay. It was no feint, but a good honest blow deliver-
ed with all the bird’s foree of body and pinion, and the poor
little Owl was completely vanquished, upset, at the first on-
slaught. The Jay had given a most convincing exhibition
of the highest type of courage; it had mastered its fears and
deliberately gone to battle. I felt like applauding.

But its troubles were not ended. This was a peculiar
kind of Owl, different, doubtless, from any that the Jay had
ever before encountered. It was conquered, but instead of
flying away to some dark nook to nurse its wounds, it per-
sisted in remaining on the field, retaining its grasp of the
lnb, not upright, however, but hanging upside down, as no
Owl was ever seen to do before, and, indeed, as only wired
Owls could. Such unheard-of behavior excited the Jays
even more than the Owl’s first appearance and, from near-
by limbs, they shrieked notes of defiance until, in merey to
their throats and my ears, | removed the cause of their
alarm, bent the branches back to conceal thei nest, and left
them to discuss their remarkable experience at their leisure.

Ten days later, when I parted the pine-boughs, I could
with difficulty beheve that [ saw the same nest. In place of
five skinny, naked, sightless, squirming creatures, were five
plump, well-feathered, bright-eyed birds almost as large as
their parents. They had grown mentally as well. The
sense of fear had developed and, as I looked at them, with a
common impulse they Jumped from the edge of the nest and
fluttered to the ground below. Disregarding the protests of
their parents, I gathered them together, placed them in a
row on the limb of a neighboring pine, and then addressed
them in what I esteemed to be the tongue of their tribe.

Perchance in this narrative both the speech and the ac-
tions of Jays have been misinterpreted, but in this conelud-

14 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

ing scene of our relations, the most skeptical could not doubt
that I was not only intelligible, but eloquently expressive, to
the five birds on the limb, which, in quick response to my
question, ‘‘ Are you not very hungry?’’ lifted up their heads
in a mute but unanimous and unmistakable ‘‘ Yes, indeed we
are.”’

“Yes, indeed we are”

A MORNING WITH MEADOWLARKS

A field which I ‘‘ sowed down ’’ a year or two ago, is con-
sidered a failure by my farmer neighbors; but, if the crop of
grass is poor, I have at least raised a fine brood of Meadow-
larks. For years these birds have not nested in the immedi-
ate vicinity of my home, and to have them take their old
place in the choir of June songsters, was assuredly as large
a return as one should expect from a few pecks of hay seed.

Although one of the birds was seen with nesting material
on May 9, 1908, so shy were they, that thei nest was not
found until June 13, when it contained young almost ready
to fly. The birds ranged over an area about four hundred
yards in diameter and, on appearing, even as a casual strol-
ler, in any part of their territory, I was certain to be greeted
by the dzit or yert, with the succeeding rolling twitter of the
male’s alarm note; and so evenly did he distribute his anxie-
ty that, from his actions, I could not have told in what part
of his habitat the nest was placed. But from the conceal-
ment of a cart, the food-flight was followed, until it led re-
peatedly to a certain corner of the new grass field, when a
rapid run, after the bird was down, revealed as it arose, the
particular bunch of red-top which sheltered the domed nest
and its nearly fledged young.

I do not recall ever having seen a photograph of a
Meadowlark at its nest; and the bird’s success in avoiding
the trap of the camera hunter is no small tribute to the keen-
ness of its powers of observation and discrimination.

That the trap has been set, I know from my own experi-
ence, as well as that of others; but, the birds are so suspici-
ous, that the most carefully concealed camera near their
nest is sufficient to keep them away. On May 9, at Bloom-
ington, Indiana, I attempted to photograph a sitting Mea-

16 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

dowlark and, although the camera was so well hidden that
she returned to her nest without hesitation, I could not get
near enough to it to make an exposure before she left her
egos. A thread over two hundred feet in length was attach-
ed to the shutter and was so arranged that I could reach the
end of it without being seen by the sitting bird; but invari-
ably she left her nest before I reached that part of the field
where the thread was placed, and I finally coneluded that
her movements were governed by the notes of the male, who,
ever on guard, uttered his alarm as soon as I appeared.

Realizing, therefore, that the birds in the grass field
could be studied at close range only by using the utmost
caution, I erected the umbrella blind at night, placing it
twenty feet from the nest and surrounding it with branches
of wild cherry. To further avoid arousing the birds’ sus-
picions, I entered the blind at 3:30 the following morning,
just as the first notes of the Robins’ morning song aroused
the birds to their matins.

The first sign of life at the Meadowlarks’ nest was noted
at 4:10, when the female, who had evidently passed the
night with her family, was seen cleaning the nest—an ad-
mirable way, surely, to begin the day. A moment later she
left the nest, flying so near the blind that I could hear the
rush of her wings. The blind, therefore, was accepted with-
out question asa feature of the landscape. It had been
erected without alarming the birds; I had entered it un-
seen; it was wholly without human associations and as an
inanimate object did not arouse the birds’ suspicions.

At 4:25, the female returned with food and, from this
time until 6:34, she visited the nest sixteen times, on each
occasion feeding one bird and oceasionally two, and with
one exception, always inspecting the nest and taking with
her the sac-enveloped excreta, which, if left, would soon
have rendered the nest uninhabitable.

The male, from his favorite perch on a red cedar in the
neighboring fence-row, greeted the female on her first jour-

A MORNING WITH MEADOWLARKS 17

we err ey
cA of 7 * ae 4 *;
v S veh yt a hes ay

“The male started nervously ”

ney from the nest, by beginning to sing at 4:20. From this
time until 6:43, he sang almost continuously, when, his
morning devotions being concluded, he joined his mate in
the more practical work of grub-hunting.

Between 6:43 and 11:05, when I left the blind, the birds
visited the nest forty times. Almost invariably the male,
on leaving, flew directly to one of his several song perches,

18 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

and sang from five to seven times before searching for
food; but, in spite of this handicap, he fed the young as of-
ten as the female, both making twenty visits. The female,
unaided, thus fed the young at the rate of about once in
eight minutes but when both sexes were at work, the rate
Was increased to once every six and a half minutes.

Inspection After Feeding

There was a more or less regular alternation of sexes in
the visits to the nest but, in three instances, both the male
and female visited the nest twice in suecession. On only two
occasions did the parents meet at the nest; once they came
together when the male fel first and flew away, and once the
female came just as the male was leaving. In each case he
greeted her witha bit of song as he left, and this was at

A MORNING WITH MEADOWLARKS 19

once followed by the full song from one of the fence-row
perches; those two were the only times when he uttered a
note near the nest.

The birds dropped down to the nest from above, and al-
ways departed toward the east. They came and went free-
ly, without hesitation, and were evidently acting in a whol-
ly natural manner. Still, they were never off guard, but
were keen and alert, as though living in the enemy’s coun-
try. A gentle snap of the fingers was sufficient to alarm
them, and the male started nervously at an insignificant
noise made near my house, two hundred yards away.

It was deemed unwise to remove much of the grass con-
cealing the nest, and the pictures do not, therefore, show
the young. The following day they had gone. The male
continued to sing until early August, and I imagine that a
second brood was reared.

BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS

When two men whose combined years exceed five-score,
can go a-bird-nesting with an enthusiasm which knows no
decrease, and count mere discovery a sufficient reward for
hours of searching, the occupation is evidently worthy of
investigation by every boy who would prolong his youth.

I say boy advisedly, for the bird-nesting habit is not to
be acquired in later life, and, indeed, had better never be ac-
quired at all if its object be the taking of the nests and eggs.
One does not search for a new or beautiful flower to uproot
and destroy it, but to admire it, and to cherish the memory
of its perfections until, with returning spring, it renews it-
self and our delight in its.existence.

Bird-nesting, then, does not mean egg-collecting. The
latter holds no antidote for age, but loses its powers as grat-
ified desire checks species after species off the list, or in-
creasing years bring a realization of its folly.

Your true bird-nester values his good fortune too high-
ly to rob the nest and himself at the same time. The dis-
covery of a bird’s nest is the discovery of a bird’s home
with all the fascinating possibilities attending the study of
a bird’s home life. Itis anevent. One never forgets the
circumstances attending the finding of any but the common-
est birds’ nests. The species then becomes the individual.
One may claim an actual acquaintance in the bird world and
perhaps establish personal relations with some feathered
neighbor, whose family affairs become matters with which
he is intimately concerned.

Furthermore, that almost universal heritage, the hunt-
ing instinct, finds a natural outlet in bird-nesting. The
farmer’s boy who hunts hens’ nests just to triumph over
some particular fowl whose eggs have long defied search,

BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS 21

exhibits, in primitive form, the motive which impels one
again and again to look for the nest of a more or less com-
mon bird whose home has been discovered many times be-
fore. And, finally, as Mr. Burroughs has said, ‘‘ Bird-nest-
ing is by no means a failure even though you find no birds’
nests. You are sure to find other things of interest, plenty
of them.”’

A Phebe’s Nesting-sites

Perhaps, after all, this is the secret of the perennial
charm of bird-nesting. The discovery of the nest is only
the crowning event of a quest which has been filled with
pleasant incidents. Certain itis that in the outing here
briefly described, there were ‘‘other things of interest’’ be-
sides birds’ nests and ‘‘plenty of them,’’ too. First among
them was the presiding genius of ‘‘Slabsides;’’ one could
not imagine a fitter companion with whom to go a-nesting;
for, be the paradox especially noted, the enjoyments of
nest-hunting are doubled when you halve them.

Then there was Slabsides itself, ideal haunt for man and
bird, and round about were inviting wooded hills, with here
and there cultivated valleys between them and, not far
away, fields and orchards.

Through these pleasantly varied surroundings, on the
morning of June 16, 1900, we wandered, visiting old ac-
quaintances as well as searching for new ones. It was not
to be expected that a passing tour of observation and inves-

92 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

tigation should yield results of unusual interest or scienti-
fic value, and I have nothing more important to record than
the mere joy of seeing and discovering objects which never
fail to excite a bird-lover’s enthusiasm; with the added sat-
isfaction of being able, in some instances, to picture far
more graphically than could be done with pen alone, the
scenes from bird-life which are here presented.

The difference between casual and continuous observa-
tion is eloquently illustrated by our comparative knowledge

DE AE OE. 2 ie

”

“She was peacefully sitting

of the first bird we visited—the Phebe. To me, she was in-
teresting simply as a Phebe who had occupied a new nest-
ing-site the first season it was available, and already had
become so accustomed to man that she permitted herself to
be photographed at short range; but this was only the final
incident in her known history.

For a number of years, so Mr. Burroughs tells us in
‘* Bird-Lore,’’ a pair of Pheebes, presumably the birds in
question, had occupied a nesting-site beneath a rocky
ledge, at the side of the valley in which Slabsides hides.
The present year, they returned as usual and, when the

BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS 23

eggs were laid, Mr. Burroughs permitted a boy visitor to
take one for his collection. Whether this fact was in
any way connected with the faté of the nest or not is un-
known, but, it is certain that, the remaining eggs were soon
missing and the nest deserted.

Shortly, they selected a new home on the horizontal
beam of the piazza of a recently erected dwelling, overlook-

Landlord and Tenant

ing the valley. Here, the rafters divided the beam into ten
spaces, all of which, to the Phoebe, evidently looked alike.
She began a nest in one of these spaces, but on returning
with more building material, missed her aim, so to speak,
and began a second nest in another space. This mistake
was repeated until the bird had five nests in process of con-
struction at the same time. Probably she would not have
completed any one of them, if Mr. Burroughs had not cover-
ed four with stones. The bird was then forced to focus on
the fifth, which she eventually finished and on which she was
peacefully sitting at the time of my visit.

“In the low sweeping limb of an apple tree”

BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS 25

Doubtless Mr. Burroughs could have given equally in-
teresting accounts of other of his bird neighbors to whom he
introduced me that day and the next, and whose portraits I
present with only passing comment.

The Hummer, for instance, which, with rare considera-
tion for the needs of bird photography, had placed her nest
in the low sweeping limb of an apple tree, was an old ac-
quaintance of his, and no detail of her domestic affairs, from

Hummer Feeding Young

the building of the nest to the appearance of the young, had
escaped him. Acquaintance, I say, rather than a friend, for
in spite of the fact that her nest was within a few feet of a
pathway, the suspicious little creature invariably darted
from it whenever any one approached within twenty feet of
her. However, she returned in four or five minutes, some-
times alighting and settling in the nest as though with one
movement, at others perching on its edge, when the two sur-
prisingly short bills of her half-fledged young could be seen
projecting slightly beyond the rim of their downy home.
This pose preceded what Mr. Torrey has so well described
as the ‘‘frightful looking act’’ of feeding, of which the ac-
companying picture shows the attitude assumed by the par-
ent.

26 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

Just at this point I take occasion to introduce a picture,
made later in the season, of a Hummer poised beforea flower.
It serves very well to represent the appearance of Mr. Bur-
roughs’ bird while visiting his honeysuckles, gathering food
for her young. It will be observed that the filmy halo, con-
stituting the wings of the Hummer in flight, does not appear
in this picture; nevertheless the exposure was made, if my
focal-plane shutter scale does not prevaricate, in less than
an eight-hundredth part of a second.

“Paused before a flower ”

On one occasion, we observed another Hummer in the
vicinity ; the bird flew directly up to the one on the nest, and
evidently looked her straight in the eyes, but for so smali a
fragment of time that we do not know whether it was male
or female. At any rate, the stranger seemed to be quite fa-
miliar with the air-line to the nest, though, as Mr. Bur-
roughs said, it is possible that Hammers may have an eye
for Hummers’ nests.

BIRD-NESTING WITH BURROUGHS 27

Far less approachable was a Flicker, which when we
tapped gently at the base of her home in an old cherry stub,
left the exit above, with a precipitation defying the speed of
a lens shutter. While technically a failure, the picture of
her hasty departure, nevertheless, forms an interesting
study in the use of the wing in flight. It will be observed
that, although a third of the bird still remains in the hole,
the wing is extended to a surprising degree and is already
in motion, asis shown by the failure of the lens to record

Flicker Leaving Nest

the outer primaries while securing, with some detail, an out-
line of the secondaries. Indeed, the evidently much higher
speed with which the primaries were being moved, together
with the space shown in the picture between the outermost
secondary and innermost primary, suggest the possibility of
an independent movement of the distal portion of the wing.
A close examination of the negative, shows that the outer

298 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

primaries are spread out fan-like, to such an extent as to be
in contact only at their bases. Profiting by experience, this
bird subsequently left her tree before one could approach
near enough to plant a camera.

The following morning was devoted to securing the pic-
ture of a Searlet Tanager, whose home had been discovered
by a good type of the all-seeing farmer’s boy. Neither con-
ditions of location, site, nor light were favorable, and after
the camera had been fastened in the apple tree which the
birds had selected fora home, it was found necessary to
build a blind of bushes beneath a neighboring tree, whence
the photographer coud not see his subject. From a distance,
therefore, with the aid of a glass, Mr. Burroughs kept watch
and gave word when the exposure was to be made,

Male Scarlet Tanager About to Feed Young

A NIGHTHAWK INCIDENT

A diseussion of the specific distinctness of the Whip-
poor-will and the Nighthawk, following an address to Con-
necticut agriculturists, some years ago, led to my receipt the
following July, of an invitation from a gentleman who had

Nighthawk and Young

been present, to come and see a bird, then nesting on his
farm, which he believed, combined the characters of both
the Whip-poor-will and Nighthawk; in short, was the bird
to which both these names applied.

Tempted by the opportunity to photograph the bird, as
well as to establish its identity, [ boarded an early train for
Stevenson, Connecticut, armed with Museum specimens of

30 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

the Nighthawk and Whip-poor-will as well as the necessary
photographic apparatus.

The former were accepted as incontrovertible evidence
and my host readjusted his views as to the status of the
birds which they represented. Wemay therefore at once
turn our attention to the Nighthawk which was sitting pati-
ently on a bit of granite out in the hay fields. The sun was

“ Spread herself out on the grass at my feet”

low when we reached the flat rock where she had been last
seen, and on which her eggs had been laid and her young
hatched, but a fragment of egg-shell was the only evidence
that the bare-looking spot had once been a bird’s home. The
grass had lately been mowed and there was no immediately
surrounding cover in which the bird might have hidden. It
is eloquent testimony of the value of her protective coloring,
therefore, that we almost stepped on the bird, which had
moved to a near-by flat rock.

Far more convincing, however, was her faith in her own
invisibility. Even the presence of a dog did not tempt her
to flight, and when the camera was erected on its tripod
within three feet of her body, squatting so closely to its
rocky background, her only movement was that which was

A NIGHTHAWK INCIDENT 31

oceasioned by her rapid breathing. Another cause, how-
ever, beside the belief in her own inconspicuousness held her
to the rock; one little downy chick nestled at her side, and
with instinctive obedience it was as motionless as its parent.

Nighthawk on Fence

So they sat while picture after picture was made from
various points of view, there being no movement, until the
parent was lightly touched, when, starting quickly, she
spread her long wings and sailed out over the fields. Doubt-
less she was startled and deserted her young under the im-
pulse of sudden fear. But in a few seconds she recovered
herself and, circling, returned and spread herself out on the
erass at my feet. Then followed the evolutions common to
so many birds but wonderful in all. With surprising skill
in mimicry, the bird fluttered painfully along, ever just be-
yond my reach until it had Jed me a hundred feet or more
from its young, and then, the feat evidently successful, it
sailed away again, to perch first on a fence and later ona

32 TRAVELS ABOUT HOME

linb in characteristic, lengthwise, Nighthawk attitude.

How are we to account for the development in so many
birds of what is now a common habit? Ducks, Snipe, Grouse,
Doves, some ground-nesting Sparrows and Warblers, and
many other species, also feign lameness, with the object of
drawing a supposed enemy from the vicinity of their nest
or young. With each one there is the most admirable ad-
justment of means to the end. Hasten your pace and the bird
hastens hers; slacken yours and the bird goes slower. She
is always at your finger tips. She takes the utmost possible
risk in the effort to deceive you into believing that at the
next step the prize is yours. Are we to believe that each in-
dividual, who so cleverly opposes strategy to force, does so
intelligently? Ox are we to believe that the habit has been
acquired through the agency of natural selection and is now
purely instinctive?

“In characteristic, lengthwise, nighthawk pose”

PART II.

THE BIRD-LIFE OF TWO ATLANTIC
ISLANDS

GARDINER’S ISLAND

COBB'S ISLAND

COAST

rowth Oak Forest on Gardiner’s Island

THE BIRD-LIFE OF TWO ATLANTIC
COAST ISLANDS
WITH A WORD ON ISLAND BIRD-LIFE

INTRODUCTORY

So far as my experience goes, all colonial, ground-nest-
ing birds breed only on islands. Among North American
species this is true of the Auks, Murres, Puffins, Guillemots,
Gulls, Terns, Skimmers, Petrels, Tropic Birds, Gannets,
Cormorants, Pelicans, and Flamingos. Bank Swallows
alone might be excepted. .

With many Loons, all Grebes, Coots, Gallinules, Cranes,
Black Terns, and some Ducks, the nest is placed in the wa-
ter and is an island in itself.

While many of these birds are born feathered and leave
the nest shortly after hatching, they are dependent on their
parents for food until they acquire the power of flight. But
terrestrial nesting habits and a period of helplessness on
the ground, whether in or out of the nest, do not in them-
selves require the protection of insular life. Ducks, Snipes,
Plovers, Rails, all gallinaceous birds, Goatsuckers, Larks,
Pipits, many Sparrows, some Warblers and Thrushes nest
on the ground; and with the last five groups mentioned the
young are born naked and are reared in the nest.

It is therefore more to that gregariousness which brings
great numbers of birds of one species into limited area to
breed, rather than to the nature of the nesting-site or the
condition of the young at birth, that we must attribute the
necessity for an island home. Birds of colonial habit lay all
their eggs, so to speak, in one basket. During the nesting
season, the individuals of a wide area are focussed in a

36 ISLAND BIRD-LIFE

small space. To find one nest means, practically, to find all.
To a large extent, the lot of one is the fortune of its neigh-
bors.

Weasels may find one or more nests of Sandpipers, or
Sparrows in Massachusetts and devour their contents with-
out materially affecting the status of the species in that
state but the same animals on Penikese or Muskeget, would,
in time, doubtless anihilate the Terns which nest there.

Wild eats, in Florida, probably never miss an opportun-
ity to capture a sitting Wild Turkey, but there is no evidence
to show that the numbers of Wild Turkeys in the state has
ever been seriously affected by this habit. The same ani-
mals, however, on Pelican Island would soon put an end to
all the breeding Pelicans of eastern Florida.

Even with arboreal species, gregariousness, while nest-
ing, often appears to require some form of insular isola-
tion; and we usually find colonies of Cormorants, Anhingas,
Spoonbills, Ibises and Herons, breeding on islands or in
trees which are growing in water and are themselves is-
lands.

When, therefore, we review the islands of our Atlantic
Coast, from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the Florida Keys,
we will not be surprised to discover how many birds, which,
widely distributed at other times of the year, owe their ex-
istence to the protection island life has accorded them in the
nesting season.

On the Bird Rocks and Bonaventure are found our sole
remaining Gannets (Sula bassana); on Old Man’s Island,
off the Maine coast, are the only Hiders nesting in the Unit-
ed States; Penikese and Muskeget held for a time our only
large colonies of Terns; Martha’s Vineyard shelters the last
of the Heath Hens and the only Least Terns known north of
the Carolinas; Gardiner’s Island is distinguished by its Pip-
ing Plover and Black Ducks; Cobb’s Island has almost the
last of the Gull-billed Terns, and Pelican Island has the only
nesting Pelicans of the eastern coast of Florida.

ISLAND BIRD-LIFE 37

Some of these islands are mere rocks or sandbars, with
few or no human inhabitants and consequently by just so
much, are the more habitable for birds. But if we should ex-
tend our survey to those larger bodies of land on which true
island conditions exist, we should find the results of this pro-
tecting influence even more strongly manifested, as where a
family has been preserved in the Greater Antilles or an en-
tire fauna in Australia.

Long-continued insular isolation, often under special
conditions of environment, has resulted in the development
of new species. We shall find evidences of this kind of evo-
lution in the Bahamas, but northward on our coast, if we ex-
cept certain slightly differentiated forms in the Bermudas,
only Sable Island, off Nova Scotia, appears to have pro-
duced a bird of its own; the Ipswich Sparrow being restrict-
ed to this islet, where possibly it represents the Savanna
Sparrow of the mainland.

Not only new species but new habits may arise on is-
lands. Environment is the mold in which habit is cast, and
such variations in the mold as may readily occur on islands
are quickly reflected in its product. The nest-building habits
of the Ospreys on Gardiner’s Island, and of the Pelicans on
Pelican Island, are cases in point.

Of the two islands whose bird-life is sketched beyond,
one is comparatively large with diversified topography and
flora and correspondingly rich avifauna; the other is small
and composed of only beach and marsh, but both show the
preserving powers of insular life, by the presence on them
of birds which have virtually ceased to breed in the adjoin-
ing regions.

GARDINER’S ISLAND

Morton wrote of New England birds in 1632, of ‘‘cranes
there area great store * * * they sometimes eate our
corne and doe pay for their presumption well enough * * *
a goodly bird in a dishe and no discomodity.’’ Of ‘‘swan-
nes,’’ this early natural historian tells us, ‘‘there was a
great store at the seasons of the year.’’ Other water-fowl
there were in countless myriads, and among them were Lab-
rador Ducks, White Pelicans, and, not improbably, Great
Auks. Trees fell beneath the weight of roosting Wild Pig-
eons, which, in flight, darkened the air, and, in proper locali-
ties, Heath Hens, the eastern Prairie Chicken, abounded.

It was not a day when close attention was paid to natur-
al science, and we shall never definitely know the conditions
of bird, and mammal life which existed at the time this
country was colonized; but, from records similar to those
which Morton and others have left us, we gather that sur-
prising changes have occurred in the characted of our bird-
life during the past three hundred years. Not only, as we
know too well in our own generation, have many species be-
come greatly reduced in numbers, but others have totally
disappeared, or are seen only at long intervals as waifs
from some region in which they have not as yet become ex-
terminated.

The present-day ornithologist reads the time-discolored
pages of these pioneers with the keenest regret that the
scenes they describe can never be observed again. Imagine,
then, my exultation on discovering that, within one hundred
miles of our most populous city, there is still a considerable
area where, if there is not a ‘‘great store of cranes,’’* the

* Morton wrote of a true Crane of the genus Grus; not of our Great Blue Heron
(Ardea herodias) to Which the name “Crane” is often applied.

GARDINER’S ISLAND 39

existing conditions are so unlike those commonly prevailing
throughout the surrounding region, that the observer may
easily faney himself transported to the early part of the
last century.

Only an island could so actively play the part of pre-
server. No fence, no trespass sign, no warden is so effective
as several miles of deep water. Of no less importance, in
the present instance, is the possession and occupation of this
fair land by but one family, its descendents and dependents,
since Lion Gardiner purchased it from its red-skinned own-
ers in 1637, for, it is said, ‘‘ ten coats of trading cloath.”’
Here, then, is the prime requisite of isolation rendered po-
tent and continuous by sympathetic guardianship.

Seven miles from end to end and, in the middle, one-
third as broad, Gardiner’s Island contains 4000 acres; an
area more than sufficient to supply the needs of its ocen-
pauts, and large tracts are still ina primitive condition. We
have, then, the advantages resulting from nature primeval
as well as those arising from man’s cultivation. The first
is represented by shell-strewn beaches, grassy marshes mir-
rored with ponds and seamed with inflowing arms of the
sea; rolling plains, dense thickets of cedar, bay berry, and
eat brier; magnificent first-growth, hard wood forests, now
high and dry, now watered by singing brooks, again low and
swampy with luxuriant vegetation and green-coated pools.
On the other hand, man’s presence is made manifest by
abundant crops of grains and fruits, of which the birds reap
a by no means undeserved share.

With these benefits, conferred by man, are none of the
ills which invariably follow him. There are no rats in this
island Eden and, more astounding still, there are no cats, the
ogres of the bird-world. No less remarkable, and perhaps
an accompaniment of insularity, is the absence of foxes,
minks, weasels, opossums, red squirrels and chipmunks, all
natural enemies of birds, and when the Fish Hawks come
in the spring, virtually all other Hawks depart. In short,

40 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

this island is an ideal resort for the fowl of land or water,—
a place of peace and plenty,—and only those factors which
impel migration amongst most of our birds, and consequent
exposure to an endless series of dangers, have prevented it
from becoming a vast aviary.

Fortunately removed from beaten paths of travel, one
cannot buy an ‘‘excursion ticket’’ to this Island of Birds

The Signal at the Fireplace

but, journeying part of the way by train, one must secure
such conveyance as his alighting place affords, and drive
seven miles over country roads and grassy lanes to a look-
out point where his haven marks the horizon three miles
across the waters. Here, at the Fireplace, as it is called lo-
eally and on the larger maps of Long Island, I enlisted in
my earlier visits, the services of the official fire-maker, to
build a fire whose smoke should give notice of a visitor to
the island beyond. The office is hereditary and had been
held by the man’s great grandfather before him. Shortly
a dense cloud arose from a smudge of hay and seaweed and
was blown landward by the breezes from the Montauk. In
time came the answering signal, a flash of light from shin-
ing tin, gleaming intermittenly like the rays of an are-light,
and shortly, through one’s glasses, a boat was seen crossing
the bay. A telephone now supplies more certain if less pic-

GARDINER’S ISLAND 4!

a

turesque means of communication, and the Fireplace exists
in name only.

Without going into detail, it isa difficult task to write
adequately of the bird-life of Gardiner’s Island, but several
facts soon impress the student,—first, the abundance of
birds; second, the presence of species rare or known only as
migrants on contiguous land areas and, third, the departure
of some species from the normal habit of their kind. Robins,
for example, build their nests not only in every tree and
bush about the place but in exposed positions, on the pro-
jections of piazza supports, on fence- rails, without attempt
at concealment, at the end of corded wood logs, and even on
stones beneath foot-bridges. How would they have pro-
gressed with housekeeping arrangements if sleek, some-
times purring tabbies were interested spectators of their
labors?

Other common dooryard birds are Catbirds, Orioles,
Chimney Swifts, Chipping Sparrows and Barn Swallows.
Flickers, Quail and English Pheasants all nest within a few
yards of the home dwelling, the former finding the fence-
posts admirable substitutes for hollow trees. House Spar-
rows, with their usual discretion in selecting desirable homes
swarm about the manor house, their harsh chatter being the
one discordant element in the life of the island. The abun-
dance of these birds probably accounts for the absence of
House Wrens and Bluebirds from a habitat which, in other
respects, would be exceptionally suitable for their oceupa-
tion. Competition between the Sparrows and these birds
occurs in the selection of a nesting site and, the Sparrow
being permanently on the ground, ever has the nine points
of possession on his side.

Searce a stone’s throw away, colonies of Purple
Grackles and Red-winged Blackbirds add their characteris-
tic notes to the chorus of bird voices, the volume of which so
impresses the bird student from less favored regions. In
the openings of a near-by tree and bush-grown pond, if the

42 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

resident Kingfisher does not give the alarm, a Black Duck
with her brood may be seen, and, more rarely, one may catch
a glimpse of a radiant Wood Duck, floating on the clear
brown water. At dusk, the whistling of Woodcocks’ wings
and the momentary sight of the birds rapidly flying to fresh
feeding grounds, adds another game-bird to the list.

Tn the grass-grown fields, ready for the mower, and on
the rolling plains where sheep graze, are Meadowlarks, Ves-
per, Field, Savanna and Grasshopper Sparrows, with King-
birds and Indigo Bunting’s in the bordering tree-lines.

From every side comes the splendid, vigorous whistle of
Bob-White, and often the singer may be seen, perched on
the top rail of a fence, replying in kind to a rival, occupying
a sunilar position on the other side of the field.

Approaching the borders of the woods, where thicket
growths encroach upon the fields, one is sure to have the
always startling experience of flushing an English Pheas-
ant; and in the morning and evening, the little, immature,
bantam-like crow of cock Pheasants is a distinctly strange
and foreign note.

In spite of its abundance, the novelty of this bird’s ap-
pearance does not wear off. As, with a cackle and a roar of
wings, the bird seemed to burst from the earth, I invariab-
ly paused to watch the magnificent creature rise, rocket-
like, and sail away into cover; nor did one think of moving
until it was lost to view. The manner in which a cock
Pheasant can conceal himself where there is apparently not
sufficient cover for a Sparrow, was a never-ending source
of wonder. Scarcely less astonishing than the flight of the
adult Pheasants is the wing-power of the chicks. When evi-
dently not more than two or three days old, they fly with a
speed and certainty of aim which quickly carries them to
the near-by shelter. The sitting females are exceedingly
wary, leaving the nest with but little cause and returning
with much caution. The picture here presented was secur-
ed only after the camera had been set for a day and a half.

GARDINER’S ISLAND 43

Pheasants were introduced on Gardiner’s Island in
1892, when twenty-five females and one hundred males were
released. In 1893, two hundred females, one hundred males,
and one hundred and fifty birds of both sexes, bred by hand
on the island, were turned out. This constituted the entire
stock, which, responding to the exceptionally favorable con-
ditions, increased so rapidly that, at the end of eight years,
the Pheasant population was estimated at about 5000 birds.
During this period, some three or four hundred cock birds
—and cocks only—had been shot each fall.

Sitting Pheasant

The birds now began to decrease. Some contracted a
disease resembling roup, with which the Crows on the island
were afflicted. The gamekeeper, Hiram Miller, thinks that
possibly the food supply on the island was not large enough
to maintain the maximum number of birds; while George E.
Lodge, the English artist and ornithologist, who acecompan-
ied me to the island in November, 1907, suggested that,—as

44 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

Terns Nesting on Drift-weed

in England, old and barren hen Pheasants are known to mo-
lest sitting birds,—the practice, on Gardiner’s Island, of
shooting no females may have rendered incubating birds
subject to disturbance by their elders of the same sex. How-
ever this may be, the fact remains that, without any evident
cause for the decrease, there are not more than half as
many Pheasants on the island in 1908 as there were in 1900,
and it is now proposed to put out one thousand more birds.

The woods and wood borders, in addition to the Vireos,
Scarlet Tanagers, Ovenbirds, Chats, Wood Thrushes and
other common species, hold as tenants, numerous Carolina
Wrens, a southern species whose loud, ringing, musical

GARDINER’S ISLAND — 45

whistle adds an unexpected bird voice to the chorus of June
song. Reaching the regular northern limit of its range in
northern New Jersey, this bird is known only asa rare
straggler on Long Island; but it appears to have become
permanently established on Gardiner’s Island, where, half
a dozen may be seen or heard or any morning’s walk; its
characteristic notes give form to mental pictures of south-
ern woods, made still more real by the guttural, lisping
gurgle of the Parula Warblers, nesting in the thick bunches
of usnea moss.

Common Tern
The bird was sitting on six eggs

Where swamp maples grow in low flooded woodlands,
several hundred Night Herons build their rude platform
nests of sticks, high in the branches. As, with frightened
squawks, the old birds leave the home tree, one might ima-
gine one had invaded a hen-roost. In early June, the streak-
ed young are nearly grown, and sit in rows of three and
four on the limbs, near the frail structure in which they
were reared, waiting for the impulse which will bid them
use their newly grown wings.

The absence from the woods of Blue Jays, Rose-breast-

46 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

ed Grosheaks and Veerys, where all the conditions are ap-
parently favorable, is so marked as to call for an explana-
tion, but Iam unable to suggest one.

In June, 1908, Mr. Winthrop Gardiner showed me a pair
of Bartramian Sandpipers or ‘‘ Upland Ploveyr,’’ which were
evidently nesting on the plains, and his father, Mr. John
Lyon Gardiner, tells me that this species was once abundant
there.

The well-named Piping Plover, is still a common bird on
the beach at both the northern and southern ends of the is-
land, where possibly fifteen or twenty pairs of these little
sand-colored birds nest. Here, also, are two colonies con-
taining several hundred of the Common Terns which were
once so numerous on the south shore of Long Island. On
July 5, 1901, [saw seven Roseate Terns in the south end
colony. At this time, young Terns, several days old, were
running about, apparently, wherever they pleased, attended
by their parents. Several were seen to enter an inflowing
creek, drink repeatedly of the salt-water and swim actively,
in evident enjoyment of their natatorial powers, while the
parents, who rarely alight on the water, watched them from
the shore. Possibly here was an explanation of the value to
Terns of webbed toes. Functionless in the adult, they are
of service to the young before the power of flight is ac-
quired.

Herring Gulls, chiefly in immature, gray plumage, ap-
pear to remain on the island throughout the summer, and
flocks of fifty or more have been observed on each of my
visits at that season.

At both ends of the island, there are extensive salt
marshes with numerous ponds. Here, Sharp-tailed and
Seaside Finches are abundant, while to the ponds, the Black
Dueks, about forty pairs of which are said to nest on the is-
land, resort with thei broods.

But the birds for which, among naturalists at least, Gar-
diner’s Island is famous, are the Fish Hawks, or Ospreys.

GARDINER’S ISLAND 47

The island furnishes them with a safe retreat to which, year
after year, they may return and find their bulky nests undis-
turbed, awaiting them, while the surrounding waters afford
an unfailing supply of food. Among the birds, they are the
lords of this land. If their title could be searched, even the
early, red skinned islanders would doubtless be found to
have been trespassers.

If the Fish Hawks cannot prevent man’s presence, they
ean and do deny to any other member of the Hawk family
the right to share their summer home; and while the Fish
Hawks are there, one may usually look in vain for Hawks of
other species on Gardiner’s Island. One Marsh Hawk is the
only raptor I have seen on there in summer, and Mr. Win-
throp Gardiner reports a Red-tail.

While on the island, therefore, the Fish Hawks appear
to have no enemies. The Terns sometimes dart at them
threateningly, but, beyond ducking their heads as the sharp-
billed, active birds sweep by, they pay no attention to this
source of annoyance. From the manner in which they pur-
sue the Black-crowned Night Herons and Green Herons,
one might imagine that they had an old score to settle with
these birds; but the Herons are probably as innocent of of-
fense against the Fish Hawks as the latter are against the
Terns; in each ease, the attack is that of amore active or
stronger bird against a less agile or weaker one, and is
doubtless a purely malicious exhibition of power.

Since the publication of Alexander Wilson’s ‘‘ American
Ornithology,’’ the Fish Hawks of Gardiner’s Island have
figured in the literature of ornithology and it is characteris-
tic of their delightful home that, owing to the preserving in-
fluences of insular life, the birds are apparently nearly as
abundant there to-day as they were a hundred years ago.

The volume (Vol. V.) of Wilson’s work in which the Fish
Hawk is treated, appeared in 1812. In it the Mr. Gardiner
who was then proprietor of the island, is quoted as saying
that there were at ‘‘least three hundred nests of Fish

48 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

Hawks that have young * * *.’? Today I estimate the
number at between one hundred and fifty and two hundred,
but the difference between these figures and those of 1812,
may he less real than one due to errors in estimate. In any
event, Gardiner’s Island holds the largest Fish Hawk col-
ony in this country—possibly the largest in the world—and
the conditions under which many of the birds nests, offer ex-
ceptional opportunities for a study of their habits.

Mr. Gardiner tells me that the Fish Hawks arrive on the
island, March 20, and depart on September 20. That the
same birds return year after year to the same nest, is be-
yond question, and, in at least one instance, this belief was
proven true by Mr. Gardiner’s grandfather, who placed a
metal band on the tarsus of a Fish Hawk which, for many
subsequent seasons, was known to occupy a certain nest.

Mr. Gardiner does not confirm current statements to the
effect that the Fish Hawks repair their nests in the fall;
but in the spring there is much activity in nest-building,
even by birds whose homes are apparently already habita-
ble. The birds gather sticks from the ground and they also
break them from the trees by flying at or dropping on them
and grasping them with their talons. Hel grass is a favorite
nest-lining and the birds often fly about with four or five
feet of this grass streaming out behind like along tail. I
have never been on the island early enough in the season to
observe the mating habits of the Fish Hawks, but additious
to the nest are sometimes made after the eggs are laid, and
birds may be seen with nest-material in June.

The variation inthe character of the nesting sites of
Fish Hawks on Gardiner’s Island, effectively illustrates
how, under certain conditions, a bird may depart from the
habit of its kind, without paying the penalty which so often
befalls animals with but partially developed instincts.

It is the normal habit of the Fish Hawk to nest in trees,
but on Gardiner’s Island one finds these birds building their
homes not only in trees but actually on the ground. I do not

GARDINER’S ISLAND 49

believe that they deliberately seleet such a position. Rather
it seems to me, these ground-dwelling birds, while inherit-
ing the nest-building instinets of their species, are not in-
stinctively impelled to adopt a site which has proven to be
the most desirable for Fish Hawks. On the mainland, such
variability from the standard would have placed the bird, its
egg or its young within the reach of predaceous mammals,
and it doubtless would not have succeeded in rearing its
family. But in an environment where bird enemies are hap-
pily absent, the ground-building birds are as safe as those
nesting in the tree-tops. Indeed, the ground-builders are in
less danger than the birds which build true to type, since the
trees to which, year after vear, the birds come, may fall,
with consequent disaster to the nest.

About ten pairs of Fish Hawks nest upon the ground,
and, these ground nests are always placed on the beach.
Possibly the abundance of drift-wood may induce the birds
to select this situation.

Several pairs of the beach-nesting birds have not only
failed to inherit the tree-nesting habit but, evidently have
the nest-building instinet itself but slightly developed, their
eges being laid on the ground with searce a pretense of nest.
In most cases, however, the beach nests are large structures
containing two or three cartloads of sticks, their size being
dependent on their age, and the success with which they
weather winter winds and waves. I do not observe that the
number of beach nests has apparently increased since my
first visit to the island in 1901, from which we may infer
that the ground-nesting habit is not hereditary.

As an intermediate site between ground and tree, some
Fish Hawks nest on large boulders either off-shore, when
the birds have an island of thei own, or inland on the roll-
ing plains. One pair of birds had nested for many years on
the roof of a small ‘*‘ yoke-house *’ standing in a field which,
when I first saw it on May 30,1900, was green with young
rye. The house itself offered the only available concealment

oe

50 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

The Nest on the Yoke-house

from which the bird might be photographed on its home. A
camera was therefore erected some forty feet away, and a
rubber tubing, attached to a shutter, led to my hiding place
in the basement of the Fish Hawk’s dwelling. It required
close attention to detect the sound of the bird’s foot-fall on
the floor above, but when assured of its return, I could stand
boldly in the doorway and, with the aid of a bicycle pump,
make an exposure at my leisure.

GARDINER’S ISLAND 3 ol

The yoke-house has now suceumbed to the weight of
years and nest, but a new Fish Hawk home which has been
erected in the nearest tree, is doubtless occupied by the
yoke-house birds. If this supposition he true, they evidently
did not resort to a roof because they lacked the ability to
build in trees.

|

“A new nest on the ruins of the old one”

That the normal nesting-site of Fish Hawks is arboreal,
is evidenced by the fact that fully ninety-five per cent. of the
Gardiner’s Island birds resort to trees ; but even with this
restriction there is wide variation in the situation selected.
Some birds nest in the heart of the forest, in the great oaks;
others at its border, in the sour gums ; many choose the
wild cherry trees, while a number have astonishing success
in saddling their bulky platforms on the small red cedars,
where they dwarf the tree into a mere supporting post.

52 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

The attachment of Fish Hawks for their home has often
been commented on and there are many illustrations of it on
Gardiner’s Island. The nests built in cedars, in time break
the tree, when the birds build a new nest on the ruins of the
old one. In one instance, a tall tree, standing alone in a field,
had held a Fish Hawk’s nest
for as many years as one
could remember. During a
storm it fell and the nest was
scattered over the ground.
The birds then attempted to
build a new nest on the
nearly horizontal trunk of
the tree, at its junction with
the stump, to which it was
still shghtly attached; but
as fast as the sticks were
brought they fell to the
ground a few feet below,
where a pile of them bore
testimony to the birds’ fail-
ure to comprehend the new
conditions by whieh they
were confronted.

Eggs are not laid until seven or eight weeks after the
birds arrival from the south ; a delay which, in view of the
abundant food supply, it is difficult to explain. The period
of incubation is said to be four weeks, June 2, being the
earliest date on which I have found young.

The young are in the nest about six weeks. They are
under the immediate care of the female who is almost con-
stantly with them while the male occupies a perch near by.
While both birds whistle shrilly when one is near the nest, it
is exceptional for them to make any show of defending their
young by actual attack. I have never been threatened by
the beach-nesting birds, but one, which occupied a tree,
dived at me repeatedly, when I climbed to the nest, coming
uncomfortably near at each swoop.

A Grackle’s Nest in the Side of
a Fish Hawk’s Nest

GARDINER’S ISLAND 53

The young are reared on the restricted diet of their
parents and, as far as my observations go, the fish is cap-
tured and brought to the nest by the male, often after he has
satisfied his own appetite by eating part of it. Incidentally
it may be remarked that Gardiner’s Island birds seeure
most of their fish from the numerous fish traps whieh, dur-
ing the summer, are set about the island. They sit patiently
on one of the poles to which the net is attached, until oppor-

Feeding the Young

tunity offers, when they jump down to the water for their
prey ; afar less interesting method of feeding than the
thrilling plunge from the air.

The young are fed at long intervals, possibly not more
than twice during the day. On each oecasion, however, the
feeding process continues for some time. Tearing a small
piece from the fish, the female usually turning her head on
one side, offers it to her young who quietly, one at a time,
pick it from her bill.

Young Fish Hawks are models in behavior. Their obe-
dience is instant and enduring. At the complaining alarm

54 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

whistle of the parent, they squat flat in the nest and hold
their position, possibly for hours, until the old bird is reas-
sured and permits them to raise their heads, when they are
often surprisingly alert and active. Unlike young Terns,
Gulls or Skimmers, they make no move when touched, doubt-
less because they have no means of escape. They therefore
not only look but act like dead birds. One can turn them on
their backs or place them in any position, putty-like they
will remain, their only movement being a rare wink of the

“Three apparently adult Fish Hawks... within a foot
of my face”

half-closed but staring yellow-brown eye. Young which are
about to fly, however, especially if they be in a tree nest, will
sometimes abandon the crouching position for one of de-
fense. I recall with amusement my surprise when, on climb-
ing to a nest which, from below, appeared to be empty, three
apparently adult Fish Hawks, in menacing pose, suddenly
materialized within a foot of my face.

The beach nests are exceptionally well situated for the
purpose of bird photography, and these nests have furn-

GARDINER’S ISLAND 55

ished the subjects for studies, to make which has been the
main object of my visits to Gardiner’s Island. These were
conducted from my wmnbrella blind, without which it would
have been difficult to gain an insight into the home-life of the
birds. Both nests and blind were conspicuous objects on
the beach and, as in many other instances, I found it import-
ant to have a co-operator whose departure, after I had
entered the blind, apparently reassured the owners of the

Adult Female Fish Hawk and Newly Hatched Young

nest, within thirty feet of which the blind was usually
placed. To enter the blind alone is to invest it with your per-
sonality, and the bird will not return to its nest until the
impression created by your presence has become dimmed.
At the best the blind itself is regarded with much suspicion
and, although the bird may return to ber nest before your

56 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

Fish Hawk Approaching Nest

“walt

° v ‘ et AL vat els —¥
fps SP = ; Re eee eae i, atone

The Pause Before Alighting

GARDINER’S ISLAND 57

Fish Hawk Alighting on Nest

Leaving the Nest

58 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

companion is two hundred yards away, she regards the blind
intently, peering, with a sinuous motion of the neck as
though her gaze would penetrate the cloth itself. Some birds
are satisfied more easily than others, and after half an hour
accept the blind without further question. Others keep it
under close surveillance for two hours and, during this time,
the shghtest sound or movement of the cloth is greeted with
the complaining alarm whistle, which, if the cause of alarm
be continued, arises to a shrill crescendo.

Fish Hawks About Two Weeks Old

In studying the life of one nest figured, the blind was
entered at eleven o’clock, when the male was seen flying
about with a bit of fish which he was evidently about to
bring to the nest. The female returned to the nest within
ten minutes after my companion left me, but it was not until

2.50, that she ceased to regard the blind with uneasiness.
During this time, the male flew about rapidly, with the bit of

GARDINER’S ISLAND 59

fish still grasped in his left foot, or perehed on the ground a
hundred yards away. At 12.50, the female dropped all cau-
tion, and the previously often repeated alarm note was
replaced by a wholly different eall, a high, rapidly uttered
tweet-tweet-twect, which proved to be a food-call to the
male. At one o’clock, in response to it he came to the nest,
but the proximity of the blind frightened him and he took
wing again almost as he alighted, and returned to his pereh
on the beach. Again the female uttered her food-call and
the young were now permitted to move about the nest.
Finally the male came again but, as before, his fears over-
came him and he departed quickly, taking the fish with him.
Three times this performance was repeated ; on the fourth,
the female, losing patience or prompted by hunger, at-
tempted to take the fish from his foot with her bill, when, as
the male arose, the fish was pulled from his grasp and drop-
ped over the edge of the nest to the sand at its base. This
was a catastrophe with which neither bird was prepared to
cope. The male made no move to get another fish but went
back to his perch in the meadow. The female repeated her
food-call more loudly and the young apparently asked for
food, uttering a twittering peep ; but experience had not fit-
ted her to deal with this chain of events and the fish at the
foot of the nest was left where it fell.

Owing to the stable conditions of their habitat, as well as
to the regularity of their habits, the Fish Hawks of Gardi-
ner’s Island offer an exceptionally valuable subject for con-
tinuous observation. The present contribution merely
suggests the opportunities which await the ornithologist
who, beginning by a survey of the island in order to plot on
a map the exact location of each nest, will devote several
weeks during the nesting, for a period of years, to an inti-
mate study of certain nests and a general supervision of
them all.

My visits to Gardiner’s Island have been made chiefly
during the summer (May 29-June 2, 1900 ; July 2-7, 1901 ;

60 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

June 16-21, 1908) ; but in November, 1907 (23-25), I went to
the island with George E. Lodge, to havea glimpse of its
winter bird-life, and an interesting one it was. It stormed
heavily and continuously during our stay, but, nevertheless,
we saw fifty species of birds (or only nineteen less than the
total for my tliaee summer trips), and as a matter of inter-
est as well as of record, I append a list of them with an
estimate of the number of individuals of each species.

If the nesting of Black Ducks, Bartramian Sandpipers,
Piping Plover, and other rare species, is a tribute to the pro-
tective powers of the island during the summer, the presence
of fifteen species of wild Ducks in November is a no less
Impressive evidence of its preserving influences at that sea-
son. With no small satisfaction, we saw, in the same pond,
and almost at a glance, Hooded Mergansers, Pintails, Red-
heads, Canvasbacks, Buffleheads, and Ruddy Ducks; but as a
matter of fact, the most interesting experience of our visit
was supplied by the commonest bird on the island — the
Crow. Crows are abundant on the island throughout the
day, foraging in the old corn-fields and along the beaches ;
but late in the afternoon, birds from Long Island begin to
return to the island, to their roost in ‘‘ Bostwick’s Woods.’’
The rolling plains at the edge of the woods, where we
were hiding was black with Crows, acres of them. Birds
were constantly arriving and the black area growing larger
and denser. Oceasionally birds on the ground quarreled,
while others chased one another rapidly ; but on the whole,
there was surprisingly little noise or movement. The birds
were waiting, and waiting quietly. When it was too dark to
distinguish birds on the ground one hundred yards distant,
the flight to the roost was begun. There was no noise, no
confusion; the Crows did not rise in a body but gradually,
curling like smoke in a long black stream, they entered the
woods behind us and disappeared in the gloom. It was an
impressive sight, and rendered doubly so by the absolute
quiet with which the evolution was performed.

GARDINER’S ISLAND

LIST OF BIRDS OBSERVED ON GARDINER’S ISLAND,

23-25, 1907

Horned Grebe, 25
Loon, 10
Red-throated Loon, 1
Kittiwake, 1
Black-backed Gull, 20
Herring Gull, 300
Cormorant, sp., 2
Red-breasted Merganser, 6
Hooded Merganser, 6
Mallard, 4

Black Duck, 500
Baldpate, 100

Pintail, 6

Redhead, 6
Canvasback, 6
Golden-eye, 20
Buffle-head, 100

Old Squaw, 200
American Scoter, 2
White-winged Scoter, 500
Surf Scoter, 200
Ruddy Duck, 150
Great Blue Heron, 1
Bob-White, 60
Pheasant, 12

Marsh Hawk, 6
Sharp-shinned Hawk, 1
Red-tail, 3

American Rough-leg, 12
Downy Woodpecker, 1
Flicker, 15

Herned Lark, 30
American Crow, 50,000
Purple Grackle, 2
Meadowlark, 50
Goldfinch, 6

Pine Finch, 1
Snowflake, 25

Ipswich Sparrow, 1
Tree Sparrow, 10
Junco, 20

Song Sparrow, 12

Fox Sparrow, 1

Myrtle Warbler, 50
Brewn Creeper, 1
Carolina Wren, 12
Winter Wren, 1
White-breasted Nuthatch, 3
Chickadee, 20

Robin, 2

61

Parent and Young

d-life of

in Tid eatin SIR Toe os ey 6
t Group Representing the Summer Bir
Cobb’s Island

The Least Terns here shown were once abundant on the island _ but have been ex-
terminated by millinery collectors. Zackground painted by Walter Cox; birds
mounted by H. C, Denslow.

es

A Section of the Habita

COBB’S ISLAND

The Atlantic coast, from New Jersey to North Carolina,
is bordered by an outlying chain of islets. Many of them
are mere sand bars, more or less grown with coarse grasses,
and, on their western sides, fringed by marshes which reach
out into the bays separating them from the mainland.

Useless for agricultural purposes, these islands have a
high commercial value only when they have become the sites
of summer resorts; but when they have not suffered from
an irruption of hotels and cottages they are, as a rule, ten-
anted only by an occasional fisherman or the crews of life-
saving stations, whose presence does not materially alter
their primeval conditions.

Lacking the natural foes of birds which exist on the
mainland, these barren islets make ideal breeding-grounds
for birds, which find on them the isolation their pecuhar
nesting habits require, while the surrounding waters furnish
them an abundant supply of food.

In all this chain of bird homes, probably none has been
better known to ornithologists than Cobb’s Island, on the
Virginia coast, north of Cape Charles. Seven miles long, it
has been occupied by man only at the extreme southern end;
a small sportsman’s club-house and a life-saving station
being now its only dwellings.

Twenty years ago, Willet, and Least Terns, in large
numbers, and Royal Terns bred on Cobb’s Island, but to-
day the former is rare while the two latter are unknown, and
there are left as breeding birds, Common, Forster’s, and
Gull-billed Terns, Laughing Gulls, Skimmers, Oyster-catch-
ers, Wilson’s Plovers, Clapper Rails and Seaside Finches.
Willet have disappeared before spring shooting, in what
was actually their nesting season. The Least Terns fell vie-

64 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

tims to the milliners, who greatly decreased the other species
of Terns nesting on the island. The former captain of the
life-saving station told me of 1,400 Least Terns being killed
in one day; while the captain of the station and Mr. E. B.
Cobb, owner of the island, informed me that when Terns
were first killed for millinery purposes they, with another
man, killed 2,800 birds in three days on and near Cobhb’s
Island. The birds were packed in cracked ice and shipped to
New York for skinning; ten cents being paid for each one.

In July, 1902 (23-25), I visited Cobb’s Island to secure
data, photographs and specimens with which to represent
its summer bird-life in a Habitat Group. At the same time,
it was proposed to study the Black Skimmer. Marvellously
graceful in the air, the Skimmer is so conspicuously ugly
when at rest, that not even the milliners consider it available
for alleged hat decoration ; consequently it was spared
while its more beautiful neighbors, the Terns, were slaugh-
tered, and it is numerous in favorable localities on the coast
from Virginia to Texas.

But in spite of the Skimmer’s abundance, its conserva-
tism in the matter of habitat removes it from the field of ob-
servation of most ornithologists, and, at the time of which I
write, accounts of its habits could be found only in the works
of Wilson and Audubon. Neither of these remarkably keen
and sympathetic students of bird-life appears, however, to
have had an extended experience with the Skimmer during
the nesting season. Both state, for instance, that it lays only
three eggs ; whereas the full complement is four; and, Wil-
son writes that the ‘‘ female sits on them only during the
night and in wet and stormy weather.’’ As I desired espe-
cially tosecure photographs of the sitting bird, this question
of the day or night incubation was of importance. I made
inquiry, therefore, of ornithologists who had been among
Skimmers, but not one had ever seen a Skimmer on its nest.
Hence the life history of the Skimmer appeared to be an un-
usually attractive subject for investigation. Unique in

yoveg ey} 1aaAQ saswMTys

66 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

structure, he was known to be correspondingly unique in
feeding habit ; while there was something pleasantly mys-
terious in the birds’ supposed habit of coming home only
after dark.

Skimmers arrive on the Virginia coast early in May, and
begin to lay about June 15; but their nests are so persist-
ently robbed by fishermen that few young are hatched before
July 20. The latter part of this month or early August is,
therefore, the best season in which to study the domestic
economy of the Skimmer household.

It isa memorable moment in the life of the naturalist
when the animal of books or museums, or even zoological
gardens, is first seen by him, a wild, free creature in its
haunts; and when the animal is as singularly formed as the
Skimmer, ones desire is intensified by a curiosity to see it
use its peculiar and characteristic organs. Imagine, then,
the joy of an ornithologist who, for the first time, finds him-
self in a breeding colony of thousands of Skimmers, where
the air is fille} with a yelping mob of birds whose eggs and
young are so numerous on the broad shell-strewn beach,
that one cannot walk without danger of stepping on them.

It was not difficult to find a spot in which to begin a study
of the birds. Some minutes before reaching the boundary
of the territory they inhabited, a band of birds arose in the
air and, with more or less extended front, flew toward me
only to swing to one side, wheel and fly back again; all utter-
ing a trumpet-like note which is effectively emphasized by
violent bill action, the bright red and black mandibles open
ing widely with each note. When the nests were reached,
the uproar increased and with it the excitement and bold-
ness of the particular birds near whose eggs or nests I
chanced to be standing. Starting a hundred or more feet
away, one after the other charged toward me with such
speed and apparent fearlessness, that one could well be par-
doned an involuntary dodge ere the birds, when only a few
feet away, swerved and passed over one’s head.

Charging

Passing

The Skimmer in Flight

68 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

The nests are hollows in the sand, often only a few feet
apart and with absolutely no lining, the Skimmer’s bill
being evidently not adapted to gathering nesting material or
constructing a nest. The four creamy white eggs are con-
spicuously marked with black, and are by no means difficult
to see; but the downy young so closely harmonize with their
surroundings in color, that they are far less easy to discover

pitas ee
Skimmers on Their Nests
Note their conspicuousness, even at a distance
than the young of any beach-nesting bird with which J am
familiar. Their partial invisibility, it should be observed,
is not due to their resemblance in form to their surround-
ings, or to the necessity of distinguishing them from peb-
bles or shells, as is often the case with young Terns. It is
purely a matter of color and disposition of color which
makes them fade into the bare sand about them. Like most
young birds, they instinctively know that safety hes only in
unquestioning obedience to the parental command, which
warns them of threatening danger, and bids them squat
close to the sand with neck stretched out and eves half
closed. I could scarcely believe, for a moment, that the first
one seen in this attitude was a living bird, but behold ! when

COBB'S ISLAND 69

I stooped to pick him up, at the touch of my finger tips, he
evaded my grasp and seudded over the beach so fast I scarce
could cateh him.

It was easier to discover the nests of the Skimmers than
a vantage point from which one might study the habits of
their owners. As vet Lhad not learned whether they incu-
bated by day or night, and this could be done only by con-

Pn

Skimmer on Nest

Note the young bird in the shade of the plant

cealing myself and waiting until peace and quiet in Skim-
merland came, with the assurance that their enemy had
departed. The blind was therefore erected in a depression
on a sand dune within one hundred and fifty feet of twenty
or more nests. The whole affair was then covered with
beach grass, and into it I crept.

For a time, the birds threatened this unfamiliar object,
darting at it with loud screams ; but within one hour and a
half, it ceased to annoy them and, tomy great satisfaction,
bird after bird returned to its nest, some alighting directly
on the little hollow in the sand, others dropping near-by and

70 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

with waddling step, walking to the nest and settling them-
selves on their eggs or newly hatched young with a low,
brooding, churring note reserved for this oecasion, and evi-
dently indicative of extreme contentment. This answered
the question of day or night ineubation ; but it would be
well to illustrate this fact in the bird’s history, and cameras
bound about with grasses, were placed near several nests, a
thread run from them to the blind, and numerous pictures
were thus made of the Skimmer at home.

ee 5 ee |

~

The Young Skimmer

“Sand rendered in feathers”

T passed two days in my blind, enjoying to the full the
isolation of the Skimmer’s retreat, and the priviledge of see-
ing, unseen, a wild creature in its haunts. Within this short
time, some additions were made to our knowledge of the
Skimmer’s habits. Thus I learned that the hollow where the
eggs are laid is not a chance depression, but is made by the
bird—the female, so far as was observed,—which, squatting
close, turns round and round, actually boring out a shallow
cavity im the easily vielding sand.

COBB'S ISLAND va

Apparently only the female incubates, but the much
larger male often comes and stands by her side while she
sits on the eggs, a pleasant picture in bird life suggestive of
domestic harmony. In all the pictures made of the sitting
bird from the front, one or two of the eggs can be seen
through the breast feathers, as though the bird had a larger
‘clutch’? than she could cover. The period of incubation [
had no means of determining, but certain it is that once the
chick announces his coming by a chicken-like peep, the trans-

Three Young Skimmers

“Squat close to the sand with neck stretched out”

formation of a pipped egg into a bright-eyed downy Skun-
mer, endowed with all the instincts of its kin], is a matter of
only two and one-half or three hours.

As soon as the nestling emerges from the egg, the shell
is taken by the parent, and, so far as was observe], carried
out of sight; a singular custom, common to most birds.
The habit is doubtless of importance to a tree-nesting bird,
where the egg-shell below might advertise the young bird
above; but why, with a beach-nesting species an egg-shell
(should be considered more conspicuous then en egg it is

V2 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

< 7 i
ome

Gull-billed Tern on Nest

hard to say; but there can be no doubt that once it has
released its contents, it must be disposed of as quickly as
possible.

The chicks seem to appear on successive days, and to
leave the nest when a day or two old. They are fed on small
fish and doubtless other forms of aquatic life, which, at first,
may he partially digested by the parent bird. Whether
or not each parent finds its own chicks when the beach
becomes alive with hungry youngsters, cannot be confirmed
definitely, though there is evidence to show not only that the
old birds recognize their offspring, but, that the latter know
their parents.

So singular in form is the bill of the adult Skimmer, that
Buffon deseribed it as an ‘‘awkward and defective instru-
ment’’; a somewhat surprising conclusion to proceed from
so learned a naturalist, and one which Wilson pronounced
an ‘‘impiety.’? With the lower mandible averaging half an
inch longer than the upper, and with both so thin and flexible

COBB'S ISLAND 73

that they can be bent as readily as a table knife, one might
be pardoned for believing the Skimmer’s bill a deformity ;
but the behef is quickly dispelled when once the bird is seen
feeding. Flying low, with bill opened wide, the lower man-
dible cuts the water like a knife edge, as the birds actually
skim the surface for fish and small forms of aquatic life.

Laughing Gulls on Their Nests in the Marsh

In the newly hatched bird, it is of exceeding interest to
observe that the mandibles are of virtually equal length, and
the lower mandible does not become pronouncedly longer
than the upper until the bird takes wing. This may be con-
sidered as evidence that this highly specialized character
has been developed late in the history of the species; or the
development of the bill may be a correlation in growth which
defers the perfection of an organ until it can be successfully
employed. Certainly without the power of flight, a Skimmer
could not ‘‘skim.’’ Until, therefore, the bird can fly, it sup-
plements the supply of food brought by the parents by pick-
ing up a living along the beach.

Skimmers were frequently seen feeding during the day,
particularly along the meeting line of sand and sea, where

74 TWO ATLANTIC COAST ISLANDS

they gleaned from the burden of the waves; but it was at
dusk that they became really active. Then they followed the
course of the streams winding through the marsh, now skun-
ming fora short distance, again rising slightly and uttering
a sharp yap, yap, like a pack of hounds on the trail.

In addition to the Skimmers, the breeding birds on
Cobb’s Island at the time of my visit, were several hundred

Laughing Gull on Nest

Common Terns, a small number of Forster’s Terns, about
eight pairs of Gull-billed Terns, a pair each of Oyster-catch-
ers, Willet, and Wilson’s Plovers, several hundred Laugh-
ing Gulls, and many Clapper Rail. The young Rails furn-
ished the principal fare of several cats which Mr. Cobb had
brought to the island to kill the meadow mice which de-
stroyed the sails and rigging of his boats.

Two pans of Gull-billed Terns were nesting in the Skim-
mer colony to which I devoted my attention, where, aside
from the difference in their eggs, the Terns’ nests were at

COBB’S ISLAND 79

once distinguishable from the Skimmers’ by the large num-
ber of shells which had obviously been arranged about them.
The Terns’ light, thin, somewhat reedy tee-tee-tee, which
sometimes suggested a weak-voiced katy-did, was a readily
identifiable note.

From my blind among the Skimmers, | could look out
over the marsh where the Laughing Gulls nested, and in the
morning the breasts of the birds facing the east looked like
great white flowers with which the marsh was dotted. No
attempt was made to study these birds, but they were pho-
tographed without difficulty by erecting bundles of grass on
tripods near the nests, one evening, and replacing them with
grass-covered cameras, the following morning. Exposures
were made with a thread run to the blind, (which was made
to resemble a musk-rat’s nest), a hundred and fifty feet
away. Some nests contained newly hatched birds, and com-
parison of their blaek and umber down, so like, in general
tone the color of their nest, with the gray down of the
young Skimmer, which might be deseribed as sand rendered
in feathers, shows how perfectly each helpless chick
matches its own background.

Newly Hatched Laughing Gull

PART ITI.

FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

PELICAN ISLAND
THE FLORIDA GREAT BLUE HERON
AND THE WATER TURKEY
THE AMERICAN EGRET

CUTHBERT ROOKERY

American Egrets

“Alert and larger expectance”’ (p. 134.)

FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE
INTRODUCTORY

From the time of Catesby, in 1730, Florida has been the
Mecea of American ornithologists. Bartram, Ord, Audu-
bon, Bryant, Allen, Merriam, Maynard, Scott, Brewster,
Ridgway and scores of other bird students have been at-
tracted by the bird-life of a region, which, not only far
exceeded in interest that of any other part of our country,
but in some respects was possibly not equalled by that of
any other part of the world.

As compared with that of other states, the bird-life of
Florida is distinguished first, by the occurrence of certain
West Indian species; second, by the evolution of certain
strongly marked geographical races or nascent species;
third, by the continued existence there of species which have
become rare or extinct in other parts of North America;
fourth, by the presence of several western birds not found
elsewhere on the Atlantic Coast, and fifth, by the great de-
velopment of those communal gatherings of birds in what
are generally termed ‘* rookeries.’’

Asa result of its geographical position, fifteen West
Indian or tropical species have been recorded from Florida,
only one of which is found regularly beyond the southern
part of the state; most of them, in fact, being summer vis-
itants to the Keys. Of the number named three have been
found in Florida but once or twice. On the whole, therefore,
the West Indian element in Florida’s bird-life is smaller
than the proximity of the state to certam West Indian isl-
ands might lead one to expect. The Binminis in the Bahamas,
for example, are only forty miles from Cape Florida; never-
theless such characteristic Bahama birds as the Grassquits

80 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

(Euetheia), Honey Creeper (Certhiola), Ani (Crotophaga),
are unknown or accidental in Florida, though they are com-
mon on the Biminis as well as Great Bahama fifty miles
farther north.

A combination of climatic conditions and peninsular iso-
lation acting, for the most part, on permanently resident
species, has resulted in the development, in Florida, of some
twenty-three more or less well marked geographical races
or species of birds in the making. Some of these extend
northward, up the Lower Austral Coast strip to South Car-
olina and westward to Louisiana, while others are confined
to the southern half of the state. As a rule, they are smaller
in size and darker in color than their more northern repre-
sentatives.

Florida, however, is not only making new species but it
has preserved old ones. The Sandhill Crane, now extinct as
a breeding bird in most of the northern states where it was
formerly common, is still abundant in certain parts of south
central Florida; the Ivory-billed Woodpecker is now found,
outside of Florida, only in Louisiana; the Carolina Paro-
quet, once numerous in all the eastern states south of Vir-
ginia, is now found only in Florida, and the last United
States individuals of the Snowy Egret, Reddish Egret, and
Roseate Spoonbill will doubtless be found in Florida.

Probably it is to this state’s preserving influences, act-
ing over a much longer period, that we may attribute the
presence there of birds with such close western affiliations
as the Burrowing Owl and Florida Jay; both of which so
closely resemble their representatives in our western states
as to be considered essentially similar to them. Probably
the wide area intervening between the range of the Florida
and western species was, where favorable, at one time occu-
pied by both Jays and Owls; but whatever the reason for
their extinction there, whether the cold of a Glacial Period or
some more recent agent,it apparently was notactive in Flor-
ida, which, beyond question, must have been the retreat for

FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE Sl

many species which were foreed southward during tlhe Ice
Age. Perhaps to the influence of this profound climatic
change we may attribute the presence of the Great Auk in
Florida, as attested by the remains of this boreal bird ina
shell-mound near Ormond.

Interesting as are the various factors thus far men-
tioned, their results are appreciated mainly by the bird stu-
dent, and it is to the development of its ‘‘rookeries”’ that the
bird-life of Florida owes its most distinguishing feature and
greatest charm.

In our southern states, ‘‘rookery’’? (pronounced ruhke-
ry) 1s the term uniformly applied to nesting colonies of
birds. Such gatherings may be made of from one to several
species, but, because of their commercial importance, one
more frequently hears of Heron rookeries; particularly
such as are tenanted by ‘‘Long’’ and ‘‘Short’’ Whites,’’ as
the aigrette-bearing Herons are called. There may, however,
be Ibis, Cormorant, Water Turkey or Pelican rookeries.
From rookery we have in common use, among pluners, at
least, the verb to rook, which, in its past tense, becomes
rooked or even rooketed, while the participle is rookin’.

In addition to its southern position, Florida’s number-
less lakes, extensive bayous, marshes, and shallow shores
abounding in food; its cypress swamps, ‘‘willow-heads,’’
and mangroves, suitable for nesting, have made it an ideal
home for those aquatie birds which nest in colonies, in trees
or bushes growing, preferably, in water. Of these birds,
Herons, Egrets, Ibises, Spoonbills, and others, the state
once possessed a marvelous store, but be it said to Florida’s
everlasting disgrace that, until the honorable industry of
shooting birds at their nests became no longer profitable,
she raised no hand to save herself from being despoiled of
this rich heritage. Even then, the passage of laws was
secured only through influence from without. The laws, how-
ever, were not observed, and all efforts to secure conviction
under them failed.

82 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

It is small satisfaction to the bird-lover to know that
Florida herself is the greatest sufferer from the niggardly
short-sightedness which allowed the agents of northern mil-
liners to loot her of her treasures. Her loss was their profit.
The few thousands paid the plumers is a pitiful sum when
one considers the real value of what has been irretrievably
lost.

This was not a case of civilization’s advance, before
which, of necessity, certain forms of life must disappear.
The marshes and swamps, river, lake and sea shore, once
animated by snowy plumaged Herons, and Ibises, and by
Roseate Spoonbills, still exist and will long continue to exist
as they were when the birds glorified them.

This is rather a case where the lack of civilization may
be held accountable. If the laws were respected, these birds.
might be just as abundant in Florida to-day as they ever
were, when the marvel of this nature’s aviary would form
an attraction such as the state can never hope to possess
again.

I began my study of Florida birds in 1886 and have con-
tinued it at intervals to the present time. In another con-
nection, I hope to present the results of researches which
have covered the greater part of the peninsular; here are
given only certain special studies, made mainly while gath-
ering material for the groups of American birds previously
mentioned.

PELICAN ISLANDS
HISTORY OF THE ISLAND

That long narrow bay or lagoon on the east coast of
Florida known as the Indian River, contains hundreds of
mangrove-covered islets all singularly alike in character, but
as far back as the record goes one of them, possessing not
more than three acres, has been the principal nesting resort
of the Brown Pelicans of this region and, at the present
time, these birds are not known to breed at any other place
on the Atlantic Coast of Florida. In ‘‘Bird Studies with a
Camera,’’ (pp. 191-214), I have given the results of observa-
tions made on Pelican Island in Mareh, 1898. When neces-
sary, however, for the sake of completeness, some of this
material is incorporated with the results of the later studies
contained in this chapter.

In 1858, Dr. Henry Bryant, whose enterprise in ornitho-
logical exploration deserves far higher recognition than it
has commonly received, wrote (Proc. Bost. Soc. Nat. Hist.,
VII, 1859, p. 19):

‘« That the most extensive breeding place,’’ he visited in
Florida, ‘‘was ona small island, called Pelican Island, about
twenty miles north of Fort Capron. The nests here were
placed on the tops of mangrove-trees, which were about the
size and shape of large apple-trees. Breeding in company
with the Pelicans were thousands of Herons, Peale’s Egret,
the Rufous Egret and Little White Egret, with a few pairs
of the Great Blue Heron, and Roseate Spoonbills; and im-
mense numbers of Man-of-War Birds and White Ibises
were congregated upon the island. * * *.”’

Of the birds mentioned by Dr. Bryant, the Pelican alone
remains; while of the trees which covered the island at the
time of his visit, not a single one is living. In 1898, when I

84 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

first saw Pelican Island, there were still enough mangroves
to afford many of the birds the arboreal type of nesting site
characteristic of their species; but the birds which could not
secure a building lot in a tree were forced to place their
house upon the ground.

This transition period has now passed. The mangroves,
here near the northern limit of their range, have suffered by
the ‘‘freezes’’ of recent Florida winters, while their exces-
sive use by the birds—which in some instances placed as
many as seven nests ina single tree—has prevented their
recovering from the effects of low temperature.

From a mound of glossy green foliage Pelican Island,
within a period of fifty years, has thus become a treeless
mud-flat, largely grass-grown, but still it is beloved by the
Pelicans, the impelling motive which prompts them to return
to this particular spot being evidently stronger than that
which induced them to nest in trees.

I know of only two occasions when the Pelicans failed to
establish their yearly nursery on the islet of their choice.
Once they were driven away by that curse of Florida,
irresponsible, gun-bearing tourists. Landing on the island
they shot the inhabitants in large numbers and left them to
rot inthe mud. The survivors retreated but established
quarters on the nearest islet.

The second time the Pelicans deserted their ancestral
home, they were driven away not by enemies but by friends.
Prior to the passage of the present admirable bird-protec-
tive law in Florida, the Pelicans were at the merey of every
man witha gun. A demand from milliners arose for their
wing-quills, and it was feared that at any time Pelican
Island might be attacked. An effort was made to buy it from
the government, but the red-tape knots of the Land Office
defied untying until, on presentation of the case to Presi-
dent Roosevelt, he, with characteristic directness, severed
them by declaring Pelican Island a Federal Reserve. The
National Association of Audubon Societies, co-operating

PELICAN ISLAND 85

with the government, immediately appointed a warden who
was empowered to prevent trespass, and erected on the
island a large sign proclaiming its population to be wards of
the government.

The future safety of the Pelicans now seemed assured, but
on visiting the island in April, 1904, I found to my surprise
and disgust, that with a uniformity of action which left no
doubt as to their attitude, the birds had expressed their dis-
approval of the whole arrangement by failing to return to
the island. For the first time in its history not a nest was
made or an egg laid upon it, but the two nearest islands con-
tained over 700 nests.

In November, 1904, the beginning of the nesting season,
when the Pelican clans began to gather, it was evident that
the great sign announcing Federal possession of the home
of their forefathers appeared to cause them much uneasi-
ness, Whereupon the warden, who had long suspected the
root of the trouble, removed the offending boards, and the
birds at once returned to their heritage,. built their homes,
and reared thei families, as the accompanying pictures,
made during the season in question abundantly prove.

Consequently, we may infer from this incident either
that the Pelican can read and has strong political prejudi-
ces Which prompt it to refuse favors from the administra-
tion which has preserved its home, or that it lacks sufficient
discrimination to realize that a board painted white with
black marks and held upright by two posts is perfectly
harmless.

However this may be, the fact remains that, to the great
satisfaction of their well-wishers, the birds have entered no
objection to the small signs which have replaced the large
one, but return to the island in increasing numbers each
year under the guardianship of the government.

Pelican Island is the most interesting bird colony it has
been my privilege to visit. This is due in part to the habits
of the birds, in part to the conditions which usually create

86 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

great variability in the time of laying and development of
the young, so that during Mareh and April one may see at a
glance every phase of the birds’ home-life from the egg te
the bird on the wing, and in part to the growing tameness of
the birds, which by the exercise of a little caution, one may
observe under terms of exceptional intimaey.

But this bird colony is not only the most interesting m
my experience, it is also the most accessible. Here one has
to encounter no dangers of sea or cliff, no flood and desola-
tion of Bahaman ‘‘swash,’’ no mosquitoes and mocassins of
noisome marsh. On the contrary a trip to Pelican Island is
as delightful an outing as one may have in Florida. A ‘‘ Pull-
man’’ brings one to any of the scores of resorts on the east
coast water ways. One has then only to secure the needed
permit from Warden Kroegel at Sebastian, when all the rest
is plain sailing or motoring, as the case may be. Thanks,
therefore, to the efforts of bird students, seconded by a sym-
pathetic administration, Pelican Island should long continue
to delight visiting nature-lovers as well as to supply our
south Atlantic coast with a singularly interesting form of
life.

THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS

The records of Warden Kroegel show that, as a rule, Pel-
icans, in flocks of from 500 to 1,000 arrive, apparently at
night, in the vicinity of Pelican Island about November 1.
At first they stay on the river, their numbers rapidly
increasing, and during this time they sail for hours over the
island, possibly engaged in mating evolutions. The clans
having gathered, at the end of a week the birds in a body
take to the island. Nest-building is begun at once, and the
first eggs are laid by December 1.

The season of 1907-08 was exceptional. The birds ar-
rived earlier than usual; and the first eggs were laid Novem-
ber 5. Warden Kroegel estimates that when they first came
there were fully 7,000 birds; but this number soon decreaset

JUS 9} O} SPIIG SULA 9e1G} 9} MOTOq A[JoIIP S| aPVUL ALAM SOIPNyS asaq] TOITM WOT] PUTT aq,
COST “Yoleyw Ul pues] UColfed

FLORIDA BIRD LIFE

DH

and only 1,500 nests were built. This would imply a breed-
ing colony of only 3,000 birds, but what beeame of the
remaining 4,000 birds is a mystery.

Possibly this variation in nesting date was occasioned by
the exceptional climatic conditions which prevailed in Flor-
ida during the preceding vear, when for a period of seven
months no rain fell.

Whatever may be the cause or causes for this variability
in the date of the Pelicans’ migration—for it is true migra-
tion—it is evident that they act upon all the birds uniformly.

The island colony is not formed gradually, virtually all
the birds come at once, moved by a common impulse. What
is it? It is not a question of food, for the birds rarely feed
near their nesting place. It is not a question of climate, for
they do not go far enough from their breeding resort to
experience climatic change when returning to it. The imme-
diate cause of the journey is doubtless physiological and the
prompting comes from within. With birds the season of re-
production is periodic, and with migratory species, whether
the journey be to a near-by island or to another zone,
the return to the breeding ground is only one phenomenon in
aevele of events which ineludes, in regular order, migration,
courtship, egg-laying, incubation, the eare of the young, the
molt, and the retreat to winter quarters.

Newly awakening sexual activities now stimulate the
flocking impulse and the birds doubtless gather in small
companies later to be merged in one great flock as they are
brought together by the instinct which leads them to the
place of their birth. The actual return to the island is ap-
parently not made until the last comers have arrived, and
we have here a partial parallel to the roosting of Crows
which assembling in some near-by field, do not enter the
roost until apparently the last bird has come, when they
arise to seek their resting-places for the night.

It isa remarkable fact that while the Pelicans of the east
coast of Florida begin to lay in November, those of the west

PELICAN ISLAND S9

coast do not nest until April, the earliest recorded date for
egg-laying being April 21. There is occasionally a supple-
mentary breeding season on Pelican Island; from one hun-
dred to three hundred birds sometimes laying late in April.
Whether this represents a first or second brood is unknown,
but it is apparently comparable to the normal west coast
breeding season.

That there should be six
months difference in the
breeding time of birds which
pass their year under essen-
tially similar conditions, 1s as |
surprising as though the
mangroves of eastern Flor-
ida were to blossom half a
year earlier than those of the
west coast. With the infor-
mation now at our command
the case appears to be inex-
plicable.

As late at least as April 1
one rarely if ever sees %
Brown Pelican on the gulf
coast of Florida with the full
brown hind neck of the breed-
ing plumage; while on Atlan-
tic Coast, I have seen but one

: f 4 : Adult Pelicans in Breeding (brown
adult bird with the white hind — neck) and Non-breeding (white

2 a8 neck ag
neck of the non - breeding 6) FES

plumage. Birds from the two coasts possibly therefore do
not intermingle and the difference in their nesting seasons
which this difference in plumage correlates, may be a result
of long continued isolation. The April nesting of a few east
coast birds may, therefore, represent the survival of a near-
lv obsolete habit.

90 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE
THE PELICAN’S HOME-LIFE

In March, 1895, [ anchored my sloop within a hundred
yards of Pelican Island and for the greater part of four
days and nights gave my attention to the life of the island.
I returned to the island in April, 1900, using the same
methods of study as before. At no time, however, were the
birds unaware of my presence and it was not until a blind
was employed in April, 1905, and in March, 1908, that T real-
ly entered the inner cireles of Pelican society. Erected
among the thickly set nests it was shortly aeeepted as a part
of the landscape, and so far as the Pelicans were concerned,
I left the island when I entered the blind. Soon the birds
began to recurn to the nests or young they had reluctantly
deserted at my approach, and in a few minutes the routine
of Pelican Island was resumed; and one experienced the
wholesome satisfaction and quite indescribable fascination
of being closely surrounded by wild creatures, that, un-
aware of your existence, live their lives in an absolutely
natural manner,

‘With a wing spread of between seven and eight feet, a Pel-
lean is an impressive bird even at a distance; but when doz-
ens of the broad-pinioned birds swept by me within arm’s
length. I realized that given the excitable, courageous nature
of Terns and Gulls, the Pelicans might dispense with the
services of a warden.

It is true, a bird which had placed its nest on a stump six
feet from my shelter snapped its bill loudly at me when I
peered at her through a slitin my blind. The young defend
themselves in a similar manner until their wings will bear
them, when, like their seniors, they show their faith in the

valorous discretion of flight.

In February, 1905, a norther had flooded the lower por-
tions of the island washing hundreds of eggs from their
nests and forcing many birds to begin household duties
again. April of that vear afforded, therefore, an excellent
opportunity to observe many phases of the Pelican’s nest-

ot AC JMoMS spalq Patoturd-peotq ay} JO suazoq. ,,

92 FLORIDA BIRD LIFE

ing habits. Birds of all ages and voices, from the grunting,
naked squirming new-born chick or the screaming, downy
youngster,to the silent dignified, white-headed parents, were
within a few yards of my blind. At a glance I could see
most of the activities of Pelican lome-life; nest building,
laying, incubating, feeding and brooding young, bathing,
preening, sleeping, fighting; while the great number of indi-
viduals made it possible to cheek one’s observation
repeatedly.

The early return of the birds in the fall of 1907 in con-
nection with a favorable season, resulted in an exceptionally
uniform and rapid development of their domestic affairs,
giving me in Mareh, 1908, an opportunity to study the colony
at amore advanced stage than I had previously found it.
The following outline of the bird’s home-life is based chiefly
on the observations made in 1905 and 1908 in connection
with certain facts supplied by Warden Kroegel.

The Nest.—Kven in the tropies birds, as a rule, do not
nest until spring or early summer, when a return of the
rainy season assures them of an abundance of food for their
young; but the Pelican woos his mate in November, or, as
we have seen even October. Among such dumb and unde-
monstrative birds courtship must be a very solemn affair,
but that isa subject we know very little about. Apparently,
however, it is conducted to the satisfaction of both contract-
ing parties, and with the happiest results; for never have I
seen indications of domestic troubles among the indigenes
of Pelicanland.

When there were still trees upon the island, the first
nests built were placed in them, in response to the normal
habit of the species. When the arboreal sites were taken,
the remaining birds built their nests upon the ground. Now,
however, there is no choice and all the birds are of necessity
terrestrial.

Later observations confirm the opinion expressed in 1900
(‘‘Bird Studies with a Camera,’’ p. 205) but questioned in

PELICAN ISLAND 98

1902 (*‘ Bird-Lore,’’ 1901, p. 1) regarding a variation in the
character of tree and ground nests. The former are com-
posed more largely of sticks with a lining of grasses and are,
or were, often built upon a platform or frame made by lay-
ing heavier sticks from crotch to crotch. Ground nests. as a
rule, contain few or no sticks but are built largely or entirely
of reed grasses.

Incubating Pelicans

This nesting material is found in abundance on the
island and the birds gather it, take it from old nests, or steal
it from occupied nests. I[t is, as might be supposed, carried
in the bill.

The destruction of the trees on Pelican Island has pro-
foundly affected the conditions of Pelican life there. An
arboreal nesting site was so much safer, both for eggs and
young, that it is possible the change to a terrestial site has
been followed by an increase of at least fifty percent in the
mortality of the nesting season.

94 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Pelican Island is unfortunately so low that a severe
‘‘norther’’ raises the water sufficiently to flood all but the
sand-har at its eastern end. Only those birds which build
upon the sands are’secure from the waves. In April, 1905,
all the occupied nests were on the higher, eastern portion of
the island and anyone visiting the island at this season
might have been led to credit the birds with sufficient intelli-
gence to select a nesting site above high-water mark. Where-
as, in truth, the earlier homes of many of these same birds,
built on low ground, had been inundated, and their eggs
washed from the nests, were still scattered about the island,
as may be seen in several of the accompanying photographs.
Apparently, then, there is no conscious selection evolved by
experience. Year after year, birds nest on low ground and
suffer the consequences, while the higher ground colony is
established hy the elimination, through disaster, of the birds
which do not resort to it.

Lost eggs, may be and doubtless usually are replaced
and it is rather through its effects on the young birds that
the ground nesting site produces so high a mortality. I have
never visited a colony of nesting birds containing anything
like the number of dead young commonly to be seen on Peli-
ean Island.

Under normal conditions a Pelican born in a tree-nest
does not leave the tree in which its home is placed until it
makes its first attempt at flight. When born on the ground
it leaves its nest as soon as it can walk. The tree-born bird
has therefore not only a cooler, better ventilated, cleaner
home, but he is not brought into competition with his fellows
hefore he is strong enough to care for himself. The struggle
for food is severe and while the parents make every effort to
feed their young, they are sometimes deceived and the young
themselves are at times robbed of their food before they
have an opportunity to swallow it. Furthermore, the young
are ten wee's old before they can fly and during at least the
first half of this period the flooding of that portion of the
island on which they were horn would result fatally.

PELICAN ISLAND 95

Before the appointment of a warden the presence of
visitors on Pelican Island proved extremely disastrous to
the young of the ground nesting birds. In close huddled
flocks they were driven from their nests to which doubtless
some birds failed to return, while others died from over-
exertion. This source of danger can now be prevented but
floods cannot be so readily controlled and at intervals the
Pelicans must be expected to afford fatal proof of the com-
parative insecurity of a ground-nesting site.

The Ceremony of Nest Relief

The Eggs.—Birds of the tropics asa rule lav a smaller
number of eggs than their northern representatives ; but the
White Pelican of Saskatchewan and the Brown Pelican of
Florida both lay three eggs. On Pelican Island the eggs are
generally laid hy December 1, and hatch four weeks later.

Brown Pelicans do not differ in color sexually. It is im-
possible therefore to determine by external appearance the
sex of the sitting bird. Observation from a blind, however,
reveals the fact that both sexes incubate, the change of
places being usually preceded by an interesting little pro-
formance which I have called the Ceremony of Nest Relief.

96 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Asarule the bird on the nest is not attended by its mate,
who may be feeding, bathing, resting on the shore, or sailing
high inthe air. The returning bird alights near the nest
and, with bill pointed to the zenith advances slowly, waving
its head from side to side. At the same time the sitting
bird sticks its bill vertically into the nest, twitches its half-
spread wings, and utters alow, husky, gasping chuck, the
only note I have ever heard issue from the throat of an adult
wild Brown Pelican. After five or six wand-like passes of
its upraised head, the advancing bird pauses, when both
birds, with apparent unconeern begin to preen their feath-
ers, and a moment later the bird that has been on duty steps
off the nest, and the new comer at once takes its place.

This was the ‘‘ceremony’’ in its full development; often
it was not so complete. Doubtless it possesses some sexual
significance, and observation points to the conclusion that
the relieving bird is the male and that the ceremony is omit-
tel when he gives place to his mate.

There was apparently no such regularity in this event as
exists, for example, among incubating Pigeons with which
each sex spends its appointed time on the nest.

The Young—The young Pelican is distinguished chiefly
by the surprising amount of noise it makes. It can be heard
almost before it can be seen; as with only the tip of its bill
visible it announces by a choking grunt its early release
from the egg.

In ‘‘Bird Studies with a Camera’’ I have given some
account of the growth of young Pelicans, and it may be
stated here merely, that the young are hvid black, naked,
and blind at birth; the eves open the second day and at the
age of ten or twelve days a white down makes its appear-
ance which in about a week more completely covers the chick.
This is followed by the grayish brown plumage of flight
which first appears upon the wings and is fully acquired
when the bird is about ten weeks old.

The voice, at first a choking bark, passes through a rasp-

PELICAN ISLAND 97

ing k-r-r-r-ring stage toa high piercing scream in the down-
covered bird, to a dignified groan in the bird in flight plum-
age. The statement in ‘‘Bird Studies with a Camera’? that
after it has acquired the power of flight the young bird, like
the adult, is virtually voiceless, is an error, later observa-
tion showing that the high scream is largely a feeding note
which the fledged young utter at least as long as they receive
food from the parent.

With the addition of
triplets to the Pelican
family, domestic prob-
lems became more com-
plicated and the opera-
tionn—I_ use the term
advisedly,—of feeding is
the most remarkable
performance one will ob-
serve on Pelican Island.
Prior to using a blind, I
had been unable to dis-
cover how the naked,
blind, squirming Peliean
of a day or two old was
fed by its great-billed
parent. But with the ut-
most ease the croaking, wobbly little creature helped itself
to the predigested fish, which, regurgitated by the parent
into the front end of its pouch, was brought within reach of
its offspring.

This method is followed until at the age of about three
weeks the young are covered with down, when, evidently
requiring a larger supply of food than their parents can
prepare for them, and no longer needing predigested nour-
ishment, they extend their feeding excursions into the throat
of the patient parent, finding there entire fish, which in some

inexplicable manner they generally swallow before with-
8

“The croaking, wabbly little crea-
ture helped itself”

98 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

drawing their head. Two and even three young will thus
actively pursue their search for food at the same time, and
only their extended and fluttering wings seem to keep them
from disappearing in the depths of the cavernous parental
pouch.

Not for a moment do they stop their high-voiced squeal-
ing, and the rise and fall of their partly muffled screams
indicate the nature of their success in getting food.

Occasionally the poor
judgment of the parent
allied to the greed of the
young, leads the latter to
attempt to swallow too
large a fish, when the old
bird saves its young
from choking to death by
forcibly pulling the fish
from the throat it re-
fuses to go down. More
frequently the young
Pelican secures a fish not
too large, but too long
for it, when it swallows
it as far as it will go,
and, with the tail stick-
ing from its pouch,
quietly waits for the head to digest before it can en-
compass the whole prize. In one such instance the victim
chanced to be a needle fish, which, as it would not go down
head first was finally taken in the reverse direction. It is,
however, when the brown wing-feathers begin to grow and
the young leave the nes: that feeding occasions the greatest
excitement. In March, 1908, an exceptional opportunity was
afforded to study the young birds not only after they had
left the nest, but after they had acquired the power of flight.
The early nesting of the fall of 1907, combined with favor-

Young Pelican Feeding

PELICAN ISLAND 99

able climatic conditions, had, as has been remarked, resulted
in both an early and uniform advance in the development of
the breeding season. Not more than thirty birds were still
incubating while at least ninety-nine per cent of the young
were on the wing and were approxinately the same age.

A cold spell late in February had resulted in the death
of at least five hundred birds just as they were acquiring the

“Extend their feeding excursions into the throat of the
patient parent”

power of flight, but between a thousand and twelve hundred
remained.

As we landed on the island these young, with the adults,
took flight and I anticipated little success in securing photo-
graphic studies of birds, which unlike those confined to the
nest, appeared to have no fixed place of abode. Observations
from a blind, showed, however, that these birds evidently
did have certain definite places, doubtless in the vicinity of

100 FLORIDA BIRD LIFE

the nests in which they were born, to which they soon
returned after being disturbed, and it appeared also, much
to my surprise, that these fully fledged birds averaging now
slightly larger and heavier than the adults, were still being
fed by their parents. Here indeed was the reason for the
continued occupation of the home-site in order that the par-
ent might have the least difficulty in locating its dependent
offspring.

Young Pelicans After Feeding
The bird at the right has a needle-fish projecting from its pouch

Under these circumstances throughout the day, but par-
ticularly in the afternoon, the island was in a constant
uproar. As many as six feeding scenes might be in progress
at once, each the center of a mob of struggling, screaming
Pelicans.

The adult bird recognizes its own offspring in part
doubtless by locality, largely by sight, and possibly by scent.
Several times old birds were seen to permit a young one to
begin to insert its bill in their pouch only to discover, that
apparently, it was not their chick, when it was denied
further admittance to the base of supplies.

PELICAN ISLAND 101

The young evidently distinguish between a bird which
has food and one that has not, though, so deeply are the fish
swallowed, that no difference was discernible to my eyes;
but beyond this they suppress any discrimination they may
possess. Their motto is clearly ‘‘any old bird’’ provided it

““Mobbed by all the nest graduates in the vicinity ”

has something in its pocket, so to speak, and on the arrival
of such a bird from the fishing grounds it is mobbed by all
the nest graduates in the vicinity who with a riotous shout-
ing and clashing of wings attempt to ‘‘hold it up.’’ Often
the adult is forced to seek refuge in a short flight and make
a further attempt to reach her young. Again in the strug-
gle the load of fish may be dropped when there is a wild
scramble to pick it up, a manner of feeding at which the
young seem adepts, and again, if the attacking party be not
too large, the parent succeeds in driving away all but her

102 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

own, who, once he has entered his claim, is generally permit-
ted to work it in peace. On occasions, however, the old bird
does not escape so easily and two and even three of the
young equalling her in size succeed in getting their heads

down her throat which
| she expands ina way a
boa constrictor might
envy. It might be imag-
ined that the best posi-
tion for the adult to
assume during this really
terrible operation would
be on the ground where
the neck could be ex-
panded and distance to
the fish shortened, and
this indeed is the posi-
tion from which the
young are commonly

permitted to secure their
Pelican Feeding a Young Bird Larger foe] ; but not infre-
than Itself

quently a feeding bird
perched on a stub as high as three feet and stretched down
her head and much contracted neck toward the voung on the
ground below.

The parent does not, of course, always have to fight its
way through a mob to feed its offspring. Often only a bird
or two is to be driven off and on such occasions the rightful
young assist, the method of attack employed by both being
thrusts of the bill from which no harm appears to follow.
The actions of the rejected young bird are remarkable. With
an only-son air he prances confidently up to the food-bear-
ing adult and without so much as by your leave attempts to
insert lis bill. When, however, he receives a blow where he
expected a fish, his demonstrations of disappointment are
uncontrolled. He acts like a bird demented, swinging his

PELICAN ISLAND 103

head from side to side, biting one wing and whirling around
to bite the other in the most ludicrous manner.

It is inexplicable that the same performance, in an exag-
gerated degree, is gone through with by the bird which has
been permitted to feed, after it emerges from the parent’s
pouch. For amoment it seems dazed, perhaps because of

Young Pelican after feeding
‘Lays its head on the ground as though it had received a violent blow”

lack of air as well as by the size of the meal it has secured.
Tt lays its head on the ground as though it had received a
violent blow, but soon this apparent semi-consciousness 1s
followed by the most violent reaction as the bird arising to
its feet grasps its wing, waves its head and behaves in the
same crazy way as the bird which has been denied a meal.
Possibly this surprising exercise may aid the bird in swal-
lowing, when the same exhibition after the bird has
attempted and failed to get a meal, should be considered the
result of suggestion.

The young Pelican although repeatedy disowned is often
persistent in its demands for food and when only two voung
are present the parent frequently finds difficulty in adiminis-
tering to her own. Even when the right bird has succeeded
in finally establishing connections with its parent, the

104 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

stranger may join it and not only share the meal but force
the first comer from the table without the old bird appar-
ently being aware of the change.

The young Pelican is not particular as to his choice of
food and on four occasions during the absence of the brood-
ing parent which had taken wing at my approach, I saw
fully grown birds take half-naked young, about the size of
plucked Pigeons, from the nest and devour them, several
sometimes struggling to secure the prize. Where ground-
nesting Pelicans are disturbed this cannabalism must
appreciably increase the mortality of the nesting season.

Young Pelican After Feeding
The lump in the bird’s throat is a young Pelican it has just swallowed

Birds which capture their food by diving from the air do
not as a rule, so far as my experience goes, inherit this
method of feeding but acquire it through imitation of their
seniors. The fact that adult Pelicans rarely if ever fish
near Pelican Island gave me no opportunity of observing
the young with the adult on its feeding grounds.

The Adult.—No one can look a Pelican squarely in the
eye without being impressed by the bird’s reserved, grave
dignity. The same patriarchal bearing ina man suggests
years of fruitful experience and the learning of sages and
prophets.

Is the bird a feathered caricature of a human prototype,

PELICAN ISLAND 105

or does its white head contain the wisdom its owner’s out-
ward experience so strongly suggests. In short, where in
the psychological scale, shall we place this bird of imposing
presence?

I have made no experiments designed to determine the
mental status of the Brown Pelican on which, however, my
observations may throw some light.

During that three months
of the vear when the wants
of its offspring make the
heaviest demands upon the
adult, the Pelican’s daily
activities apparently follow
a regular routine. At the
first hint of dawn certain
birds, whether always the
same or of the same sex it
would be difficult to deter-
mine, leave the island for
distant fishing grounds, fly-
ing diagonally northeast o1
southeast over a regularly
traveled air line to the sea
and then following the coast
line north or south as the
case may be. With a favor-
able wind they travel high
before it, with a head wind
they skim low over the
waves usually just outside the breakers.

When several birds happen to leave together over the
same route the characteristic diagonal, single-file flock is
soon formed and the birds progress by alternately flapping
and sailing in unison, the first flap after the sail being
usually given by the leader, not necessarily because he is
the leader but because being in advance he doubtless

“ For distant fishing grounds ”

106 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

encounters greater air resistance and is the first to lose
momentum when sailing. It is said that the birds go as far
as forty miles to reach favorite fishing grounds, near Cape
Canaveral for instance, but I have never seen them farther
than ten miles from home, when, however, they showed no
signs of stopping.

Md LX ty 2a: aS = " v MEE ia é
The First Upward Stroke of the Wing Preceding Flight
Note the separation and angle of the five outer primaries

Almost invariably the returning birds are in flocks of
from three or four to as many as fifty and these lines of
stately creatures flying steadily with striking power and
regularity of movement constitute one of the impressive
sights of the Florida coast.

The flock formation is maintained until the birds reach
the island when they separate to proceed directly to their
homes, situated perhaps in different parts of the colony.

PELICAN ISLAND 107

The tune of the returm is doubtless more or less
governed by the success of the expedition, but the young
seem to be fed most actively between eight and ten in the
morning and two and four in the afternoon. The latest
fishers reach the island when it is too dark to distinguish
minor details of the landscape and at such times I have had

The Pelican Yawn

them sweep by within a few yards; nevertheless they
appear to go to their nest-sites without difficulty and the
resulting outery indicates that their voung do not go to bed
supperless.

Menhaden form a large proportion of the fish captured
and big or little they are carried not in the pouch, but too
far down the throat to be visible even as a protuberance.

108 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Most of the birds fish at sea and even if they took valuable
food fish, lovers of birds as well as lovers of fish are to be
considered. Better spare a mullet or two than rob the air
of one of its distinguished citizens. When the day comes in
which everything interfering with our acquisition of dollars
and cents must be destroyed, the world will indeed be a fit
abode for those who have despoiled it.

After feeding its young, the adult, if it is not too late,
often goes a short distance off shore to bathe, with much
loud slapping of wings and dashing of spray. The bath
finished it comes to the beach to preen its feathers. A very
large part of the time of both adult and young is given to
the care of their plumage. The foot evidently can reach only
the side of the neck and the loud rasping scratching of this
part of the body is one of the characteristic sounds of island
life.

After the feathers are dressed the birds generally go for
a promenade in the sky when they rise to a thousand feet or
more above their home, and, on set wings, sail in wide
circles apparently for pure enjoyment of the exercise. At
such times they are often joined by the young which are on
the wing.

When several thousand birds of one species not only
select the same bit of ground for a residence but build their
homes side by side, one might infer that they possessed
marked sociability of character; but I have looked in vain
for any evidence of friendly or communal relations between
the thickly grouped Pelican households. The virtual voice-
lessness of adult Pelicans implies in itself a limited means
of communication. The birds steal one another’s nesting:
material with an air which plainly bespeaks a knowledge of
their guilt and that they expect punishment from the birds
they have robbed. This may lead to a bloodless fight in
which the contestants snap their mandibles with pistol-like
report or grasp each other by the bill to struggle for a few
seconds. Beyond these oceasional little difficulties I have

PELICAN ISLAND 109

seen no evidence of either friendly or hostile relations be-
tween the adult birds. They live side by side, they go
fishing together, they return together, and this association
apparently satisfies an evident desire for companionship.
While the formation of such island colonies may original-

“Thrust her bill deep into the nest”

ly have been due to the gradual elimination of the
individuals of a species which did not nest in so favorable a
locality (see ‘‘ Bird Studies with a Camera’’ p. 195 where
this idea is advanced) I now believe that among island nest-
ing birds there is definite and intentional selection of island
sites. When the Pelicans have been driven from Pelican
Island they have sought refuge on another island. White
Pelicans, as is remarked in a succeeding chapter, also give
evidence of this actual selection of an island home. Doubt-

110 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

less gregariousness as well as the heredity of habit plays a
part here.

Beyond supplying them with food and shelter essential
to their existence, Pelicans seem to take little interest in
their off-spring. They often step on their young in a
clumsy fashion which must sometimes be fatal to very litile
birds. The adults whose young were devoured by larger

“ Devoured by a scavenging Black Vulture”

young birds showed no resentment. In one instance the
naked young of a bird whose nest was unfortunately within
a few feet of my blind, died through exposure to the sun be-
fore I was aware of their suffering. Finally when, after
an hour or so the parent became sufficiently aceustomed to
the blind to return to her nest, she (I assumed it was the
mother) showed an evident though unintelligent concern at
her loss. For two hours she stood near the nest containing
the bodies of the poor little Pelicans returning to it at inter-
vals to thrust her bill deep into the nest, and toss the
material about, presumably searching for her chicks which,
disguised in death, she seemed not to recognize. Happen-

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dnoiy pux[s] UPdT[aq oq} JO WONIOg V

112 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

ing to touch one of them with her bill it was flung from the
nest as an object of no interest and later was devoured by
a scavenging Black Vulture with whose meal the surround-
ing Pelicans showed no concern.

On another occasion an adult went beyond the bounds of
mere routine to prevent her offspring from being imposed
upon by a slightly larger bird. A fish the youngster. had
secured from the parent’s throat became lodged crosswise
in its pouch and would not go down. While attempting to
disgorge and re-swallow its booty a larger bird standing
near became interested and offered to assist by relieving the
sinaller Pelican of the fish altogether. It was on the verge
of suecess, though evidently against the will of the smaller
bird, when the latter’s parent, who had probably been
watching the performance, appeared upon the scene and
drove the intruder off. Few incidents of this kind were
noted and observation emphasizes the limited range of the
Pelican’s intelligence. But as one considers the conditions
under which the birds live, there appear to be no factors to
stimulate mental development. Their food supply never
fails and is secured without competition; after the first few
weeks of their lives their climatic surroundings are favor-
able; in disposition they are non-combative; while the
nature of their nesting-resorts protects them from pre-
datory animals. In short, hfe with Pelicans is not
sufficiently severe to tend to character making.

Man alone appears to threaten their continued existence
and from him, fortunately, those of their kin who live on
Pelican Island are now happily protected. While they can-
not repay their defenders with the music of Thrushes or a
display of those traits which so endear the higher animals
to us, they may at least claim success in filling their place in
nature, while the charm of every water-way is increased by
the quaint dignity of their presence.

THE FLORIDA GREAT BLUE HERON
AND THE WATER TURKEY

In 1858, when Bryant located Pelican Island ag ‘‘twenty
miles north of Fort Capron,’’ he took for lis base the
nearest settlement which then appeared on the maps of that
little known region. But one will search the latest Florida
maps in vain for a loeality with this name, so honored in our
military service.

The Fort Capron of the Indian wars is, however, the St.
Lucie of to-day; the site of the old fort is still visible, and at
this point one may start on the Capron Trail, which now, as
then, crosses the Kissimmee at Fort Bassenger, on a ferry
““flat.??

On the morning of March 21, 1905, with Aden Summer-
lin, as guide, Mrs. Chapman and I started westward, on the
Capron Trail, for a certain rookery of Water Turkeys
(Anhinga) and Florida Great Blue Herons (Ardea
herodias wardi) distant some seventeen miles. We camped
that night in a dense palm hammock near an arm of Seven
Mile Slough, where the Barred Owls discussed our appear-
ance, in several languages. Hundreds of Louisiana Herons
were beginning to nest in the button-wood grown ponds and
we remained here two days to study them.

March 23, we crossed the Slough over the mile and a half
ford, through the saw-grass—where I lightened the load by
putting our canoe overboard and getting a tow all the
way over—and reached our destination early in the after-
noon.

Our camp was in the pines near the border of a great
eypress swamp, in which were the ponds where the birds we
desired were supposed to be nesting. White Egrets were
said to have ‘‘ rooked ’’ here in large numbers but they had

9

114 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

been ‘‘shot out’? by my guide’s father—now a game
warden!

It was not until the next day that we succeeded in reach-
ing the forest-enclosed sloughs and found a place where,
after some cutting of the dense undergrowth, our canoe
could be launched. Doubtless it was the first boat to be

A Camp in the Palms

used here. At the same time, I discovered one of those
evidences of the conflict between soldier and Indian, which
are so potent in effacing the present and bridging the lapse
of years. Summerlin, who knew its history, identified it as
the camp-site of a body of cavalry. They had thrown up
earthworks, but the long trench was now a rounded hollow
and the embankment had weathered away. Their horses had
evidently been tethered toa great pine at the head of the
trench, the grass, for radius of six or eight feet around the
tree, being sparse and stunted. I never passed the place
without forming a clear mental image of horses and
troopers.

The ponds were so thickly covered with glistening

GREAT BLUE HERON AND WATER TURKEY 115

‘* bonnets,’’ as yellow pond-lilies are invariably called in
Florida, that the water was not visible, and it was necessary
to mow a path, with a machete, to the islets on which the
Water Turkeys and Herons proved to be nesting. These
islets, although only a few yards square, usually held at
least one cabbage palm, with an ash or willow and low
bushes; their presence added largely to the beauty of a

The Home of Heron and Water Turkey

Note the blind under the palmetto at the left; also the canoe floating
among the “ bonnets”

scene which, with its ‘‘moss’’ draped cypresses, and luxuri-
ant growth of bonnets and palms must have made a fine
setting for the Egrets, Spoonbills and Paroquets that were
doubtless abundant here when the troopers camped in the
neighboring pines.

The place itself, however, had lost none of its singular
picturesqueness and animal life was still abundant enough

116 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

to make one forget the past in the attractions of the present.
My blind was quickly erected on the islet, from which I could
observe the Water Turkeys on a neighboring islet, and soon
the nearly grown Ward’s Herons, in a nest just above my
head, were chanting their croaking food-call; the Water
Turkeys, with rattling, rasping notes, came back to their
nests; Barred Owls called from the gloom of the cypresses
and out in the pines Sandhill Cranes were trumpeting.
From the forest of bonnet leaves and roots, bull-frogs
grunted and alligators whined; a sucker and a great soft-
shelled turtle came to the surface to investigate a bit of
orange-peel which had fallen into the water at my feet, and
everywhere, in the bonnets, on the islets and in the bushes,
there were moccasins. One crawled out to sun himself on the
islet which was barely large enough for me, and I discov-
ered him coiled at exactly (measured later!) three feet and
six inches from my back. Doubtless he would have agreed
to remain on his side if I had consented to stay on mine, but
it seemed to me that an island six feet in diameter was not
large enough for us both, and he, poor fellow, being the
smaller and having no gun, was forced to leave—in two
pieces.

About one hundred pairs of Water Turkeys were breed-
ing on the islets in this secluded place; their remarkably
well-made nests being in the bushes and trees from three or
four, to fifteen or twenty feet above the water; in some
instances a single islet held as many as seven.

The nests contained eggs in various stages of incubation,
and voung up to the downy stage. The young of the same
nest, as I have observed on previous occasions, were of dif-
ferent ages and varied greatly in size, one nest holding
young several days old and fresh eggs.

The young raise their long, slender, tremulous necks
above the nest and utter incessantly a twittering peep;
while the expanded hyoids so increase its size that the head
appears to be placed on the neck upside down. They secure

Water Turkey and Nest

118 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

their food as do young Pelicans, Cormorants, and all other
members of the order Steganopodes with whose habits I am
familiar, by thrusting the head down the parent’s throat.
The stomach of one young bird contained three fish, the
longest measuring six inches; in another a catfish was dis-
covered. With a family which may vary in size from the
newly hatched chick to one a foot or more in length, the
problem of securing fish the proper size for the young is
evidently more complicated with Water Turkeys than it is
with Pelicans. The parent seems to bring a large supply of
food; a female, on one oceasion, remained at the nest about
an hour and fed her young repeatedly.

Although they soar with exceptional ease, Water Tur-
keys alight very clumsily, virtually tumbling on to their
perches with much flapping of wings and loss of balance
before coming to rest. When not alarmed, they seem to
take flight with much hesitation, opening and closing their
wings, in preparation, several times, before they venture to
trust themselves to their support. When alighting near the
nest, they always utter their harsh, grating calls which, if
another bird chances to be near, is replied to with threaten-
ing motions of the sharply pomted bill. But although
quarrelsome, they never get beyond this exchange of com-
pliments.

Fish Crows, one of the greatest enemies of rookery
nesting birds, were, as usual present, and looking every
inch the thief as they hunted from tree to tree in search of
unprotected eggs. At the same time, they cawed loudly;
though why they should thus advertise their presence, un-
less it be to protest their innocence, it is difficult to see. One
slipped up to a near-by Water Turkey’s nest, from which
the owners were absent, quickly took a blue egg in his bill
and, with rapid wing strokes, flew to a cypress to devour it
at his ease; then, his appetite whetted and courage aroused,
he came back to the nest and, standing on its edge, ate all
the eggs remainmg. The Water Turkeys sometimes pro-

GREAT BLUE HERON AND WATER TURKEY 119

tested slightly, but made no attempt to defend their homes
from the black-coated robbers.

There were about fifteen Florida Great Blue Herons’
nests scattered about the slough, all containing newly
fledged young. Most of them were within ten feet of the
water and offered an exceptional opportunity to study, and
possibly even photograph, the before unpictured homelife
of this splendid bird.

The blind was therefore moved to an islet some fifty
feet long and a fourth as wide, from one end of which an
unobstructed view could be had of a Heron’s nest, contain-
ing three large young and distant about forty feet. A dense
growth of young palms afforded partial concealment for
the blind, which was rendered virtually invisible by a cover-
ing of dead palm leaves. The blind was arranged at the
conclusion of a day with the Water Turkeys. It could be
entered from the rear of the island without one’s being seen
from the nest, and the conditions seemed ideal for out-
witting one of the most wary of Florida birds.

The young Herons were almost as easily alarmed as
their parents, and, at the first sign of danger, squatted flat
in the nest with close-pressed bills. The next morning,
when I reached the blind without the young birds being
the wiser, success in photographing the parents seemed only
a matter of time. It was not long, however, before the alert
attitude of the young indicated beyond question the proxi-
mity of one of the parents and, following the direction of
their eager, expectant look, I discovered the splendid
creature perched on the higher growth to the left, clean-cut
and statuesque against the sky. She stood there calmly,
showing no trace of the intense excitement which now
possessed her offspring; and quietly surveyed her sur-
roundings, Assured that all was well, with erect plumes and
partly expanded wings, she slowly walked downward
toward the nest, with a dignity of motion and majesty of
pose I have never seen excelled by any other bird.

Great Blue Heron Approaching Nest
“ With dignity of motion and majesty of pose”

GREAT BLUE HERON AND WATER TURKEY 121

4 2) ve ’ ae i. a ! IM “
ES , . . 4 a, + feign
, ‘ id ~ » 5

e

Great Blue Heron Feeding Young
“Its bill was seized by one of the young”

The young now were frantic with excitement and, in
chorus, uttered their cuk-cuk, cuk-cuhk feeding call. As the
parent stepped slowly into the nest, its bill was seized by
one of the young. The young bird did not thrust its bill
down the parental throat nor was the parent’s bill intro-
duced into that of the young. The hold of the young bird
was such as one would take with a pair of shears, if one
were to attempt to cut off the adult’s bill at the base. In
this manner the old bird’s head was drawn down into the
nest where more or less digested fish was disgorged, of
which all the young at once partook. On one oceasion, the
adult disgorged a fish at least a foot in length and on dis-
covering that it was too large for the young, the parent
re-swallowed the fish and returned to a perch near the nest,
while awaiting for the processes of digestion to continue the
preparation of the meal.

122 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

a

It was with no small elation that I obtained this intimate
view of a Heron family and observed this—so far as I am
aware—before unknown method of administering to the
wauts of its young. The prospect for making still further
additions to the life-history of the species, seemed admir-
able; but, the morning’s work finished, I reached the border
of the forest just in time to see my tent in the pines ahead
burst into sudden flame, destroying everything in it but my
photographic plates which, being at one end, were rescued
by Mrs. Chapman. Paraffine used in water-proofing canvas
and a spark from the camp fire had proved a disastrous
combination, and work on the Herons was of necessity
abandoned. :

Water Turkey
They often assume this pose while drying their plumage

THE AMERICAN EGRET

Twenty years have passed since I saw in Florida my
first Egret, but I retain a clear-cut mental picture of the
scene in which the bird’s snowy plumage shone with sur-
prising whiteness against a darkly wooded background. It
seemed an ethereal creature, too pure for earthly existence,
a veritable Bird of Paradise. Nor has subsequent familiar-
ity in any way decreased this impression of a certain angel-
ic quality,—due no doubt to the dazzling purity of the bird’s
plumage as well as to the charm of its haunts. _

It was the large Egret, (Herodias egretta) I saw. The
Snowy Egret (Hgretta candidissima) is a daintier, more
exquisite bird, but, in nature, cannot always be satisfactor-
ily distinguished from the young of the abundant Little
Blue Heron, while its much smaller size makes it a far less
impressive figure in the landscape than its stately rela-
tive. Futhermore, the Snowy Egret is a less shy bird and
its recurved plumes are more highly prized than the
long, straight ‘‘ aigrettes ’’ of the larger species and even
twenty vears ago, it was a comparatively rare bird in
Florida.

My experiences, therefore, have been with the larger
Egret, which I have long sought to find nesting under con-
ditions suitable for reproduction ina Habitat Group. A few
nests were discovered here and there, but always, when a
rookery of promising size was reported, the plume-hunters
arrived first and word came that the ‘‘long Whites have all
been shot out.’’

Thus, year by year, the Egrets have decreased in num-
ber, and with them has gone one of the most distinguished
figures of the Florida wilds. The state, learning the value
of the treasure of which she has been robbed, has passed

124 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

stringent laws prohibiting the killing of Egrets. So, too,
she has passed laws against pick-pockets, but just so long
as there are pockets worth picking there will be someone to
pick them, and just as long as Kgrets’ plumes are worth
their weight in gold there will be some one to supply them,
until, a passing fancy gratified, the last plume has found its
way from the bonnet to the ash-barrel.

Without one promising lead to follow, I had virtually
abandoned the Egret hunt, when, from another state than
Florida, word came of an Egret rookery creditable to the
days of Audubon. It appears that, when a vast territory
Was acquired asa game preserve, by aclub of sportsmen,
it contained a few Egrets, survivors of a once flourishing
colony. After seven years of rigid protection, they and
their progeny form so conspicuous an element of local bird-
life that, on the evening of Mav 7, 1907, as I reached the
region in which they lived, I saw them in dozens flying
toward the still distant rookery.

The return, at nightfall, of birds to their nests, or toa
fixed roosting-place, 1s possessed for us of that interest
which is attached to all the intelligible actions of anima!:.
The knowledge that the creature has a definite plan or pur-
pose seems to emphasize our kinship with it. So we mari
the homeward flight of Heron or of Crow and, knowing
whither they are bound, travel with them in faney to the
journey’s end. This has been a fatal habit for the Herons.
It mattered little how secluded was the rookery; the hunter
found it simply by following their line of flight.

My way to the home of the white-plumed birds was less
direct than their air-line. For hours ,a little home-ma_le
tug, with a swelling wave at her bow, took me through a
succession of bays, canals, cut-offs and serpentine creeks,
frightening the Gallinules and Blackbirds in the reeds, and
surprising an occasional alligator on his favorite mud bank.

A night’s rest, andin the morning the journey was
resumed through park-like pine forests and under the moss-

Ajlinjzearay Jo asevurntd
OUT M Ot] UL SULpdetq SI pig oUG “YSNq sty} UT sqsau OM}-S]AULY] OL9M ILO,

suoleH on[g aT

FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Louisiana Heron and Nest

hung live-oaks with every
tree and plant by leaf and
blossom, and every bird by
plumage and voice, proclaim-
ing the sweetness, beauty
and joy of May. Ten miles of
spring’s pageant brought me
to the moat of the Egrets’
stronghold. Here I entered
a boat, to pass through an
apparently endless, flooded
forest, known as the Lake of
the Great Reserve.

There are delights of the
water and delights of the
wood, but when both are
combined and one’s canoe-
path leads through a forest,
and that of cypress, clad in
new, lace-like foliage and
draped with swaying moss,
one’s exultation of spirit
passes all measurable
bounds. No snapping of
twigs or rustling of leaves
betrays one. We paddled so

easily, so noiselessly, that we seemed as much inhabitants
of the place as the great alligators that sank at our
approach.
The Fish Hawks whistled plaintively, but settled on
their nests as we passed below them; the Wood Ducks led
their broods to the deeper woods; Pileated and Red-bellied
Woodpeckers, Crested Flycatchers, Tufted Tits and glow-
ing Prothonotary Warblers, at home in holes in the cypress;
Parula Warblers weaving their cradles in the Spanish
moss,—all accepted us as part of the fauna, and it was not

THE AMERICAN EGRET 217

Cypresses in Which the Egrets Were Nesting

The blind may be seen in the upper right-hand corner of the picture

until we reached the first dwellings of the rookery that our
presence caused alarm.

Here, at the tops of the tallest eypresses, from seventy
to one hundred feet from the water, the Great Blue Herons
had built their broad platforms. With protesting squawks,
they stretched their legs, folded their necks and took to the
air, leaving their nearly fledged young to peer over the edge
of the nest at the disturbing object below. With no less

128 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

concern, I looked at the disturbing object above. If the
Eegrets had chosen similar nesting sites they could be
photographed only from a balloon!

ca

“With curved neck and streaming plumes ”

Beyond the Great Blue Herons, was a settlement of the
singularly marked Yellow-crowned Night Herons. Their
nests were within fifteen feet of the water, but they slipped
away, so quietly that only close watching showed them dis-
appearing through the trees beyond. For two miles we
paddled thus in a bewildering maze of sunlit, buttressed
cypress trunks with shiny, round-headed ‘‘knees’’ protrud-
ing from the water, and with every branch heavily moss-
draped. The dark waters showed no track, the brown
trunks no blaze; we seemed to be voyaging into the un-
known.

THE AMERICAN EGRET 129

Finally, the environs were passed and we now
approached the most densely populated part of the rookery.
Thousands of Louisiana and Little Blue Herons left their
nests in the lower branches and bushes, their croaking
chorus of alarm punctuated by the louder, more raucous

A Sudden Turn

squawks of hundreds of Egrets, as they flew from their
nests in the upper branches. It was a confusing and fasci-
nating scene, an admirable climax to the passage through
the weird forest.

For a time, I was content to sit quietly in the boat and
revel in the charm and beauty of the place, my enjoyment
unmarred by the thought that at any moment Satan, in the
guise of a plume-hunter, might enter this Eden.

The Little Blue and Louisiana Herons nested at an
average height of from six to eight feet. One bush held no
less than thirty-two nests, all of which contained eggs, few

young of either species having yet been hatched. The
10

130 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

“Ventured to alight in the home tree”

Egrets nested at an average height of forty feet. Eggs
were in some nests, while in others there were nearly fledg-
ed young. While far less shy than I had before found them,
the birds were still abundantly wary, and obviously could
be observed to advantage only from concealment. After

, SoTOULRIG JULISIP SIOW 9} 0} ATSNOMND dU) ,,

132 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Egret Feeding Young

some search, a group of nests was discovered, which it was
believed could be studied and photographed from a neigh-
boring tree, distant some thirty feet. The umbrella blind
was therefore placed in the tree, at a height of forty-five
feet, and liberally draped with Spanish moss. It was
arranged to fall over a limb which, for several hours dur-
ing each of the three succeeding days, served as a perch
from which my notes and photographs were made. I have
had more comfortable seats, but few that were so enjoyable.
From the concealment of the same blind, it had been my
fortune to watch Flamingos, Pelicans and many other
ground-nesting birds at close range; but never before had I
attempted to enter a bird colony in the tree tops, and the
experience was as exhilarating as it was novel.

The Little Blue and Louisiana Herons soon returned to
their nests below, the former, noisy and quarrelsome, call-
ing at each other notes which sounded strangely like tell you
what, tell you what; the latter were less demonstrative and

THE AMERICAN EGRET 133

more quiet. The Egrets did not accept the situation so
readily. Seven pairs were nesting in the trees near me.
Some had eggs, others, young birds in various stages of
development. Flying to and fro, with curved neck and
streaming plumes, the parents inspected the blind for some
time before they ventured to alight in the home tree. Then

An Egret Family After Feeding

they came cautiously to the more distant branches, there to
remain indefinitely, while uttering a protesting rapid cuk-
cuk-cuk, with the regularity and persistance of a metro-
nome. Their strong desire to return to their nest was
expressed in an alertness which led them to make frequent
changes of attitude. Ina large series of pictures of wait-
ing birds, no two have the wonderfully expressive neck in
the same position. Itis remarkable how the pose of this
member atfects a Heron’s appearance.

Doubtless, the young birds were nota little puzzled by
the unusual reluctance of their parents to administer to

134 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

their wants. In vain they uttered their frog-like kek-kek-
kek, and stretehed their necks hopefully. The old birds
were not assured. So the young resorted to their custo-
mary occupations of leg- or wing- stretching, or yawning,
or preening a brother’s or sister’s feathers, picking at
imaginary objects here and there; all good exercises for
erowing birds. The larger ones made little journeys to the
limbs near the nests, the necks taking a different curve with
every movement, and expressing every emotion from
extreme dejection to alert and eager expectancy. Finally, as
the old birds were convinced that the blind was harmless,
their reward came. With harsh, rattling notes and raised
crest, one of the parents alit near the nest. Its superbly
threatening attitude was clearly not alarming to the young
birds, who welcomed it by voice and. upstretched, extended
neck. Gravely the parent stood regarding its young, while
its crest dropped and its pose relaxed. Then, as it stepped
to the edge of the nest, it lowered its head, when its bill was
immediately seized by one of the voungsters. The feeding
scene which followed was exactly like that described in the
chapter on the Florida Great Blue Heron.

This Heron rookery may be described as a by-product of
a reservation maintained primarily for hunting purposes.
The immediate response of the surviving birds to the pro-
tection given them when their almost depleted rookery pass-
ed into the possession of the sportsman’s association, Now
owning it, is encouraging evidence of what may be done in
other localities, if the laws are enforced. Such work, how-
ever, should not be undertaken without the assurance that it
wil) be continuous and adequate. The co-operation of the
National Association of Audubon Societies, should be se-
cured. Inits hands a small endowment may be made to
accomplish wonders in bird preservation.

CUTHBERT ROOKERY

Cuthbert Rookery is probably the last rookery in Flori-
da at all comparable with those great gatherings of nesting
birds formerly common throughout the state. Rookeries
of Ibises, or Cormorants, of Little Blue and Louisiana
Herons and other nonplune-hearing birds may still be
found by those who know where to look for them. But at
Cuthbert alone, so far as | am aware, will one find all the
birds mentioned, together with Spoonbills, American and
Snowy Hgrets. This rookery is situated in what the maps
term the ‘‘Great Mangrove Swamp’? which borders the
Everglades at the southern extremity of Florida, and is
about seven iniles from the coast, at a point known as Snake
Bight, some twelve miles east of the settlement of Flamin-
go. The proposed extension of the Florida Kast Coast
railroad to Cape Sable would have passed within a mile or
two of it. .

Cuthbert is well-known to:every plumer of South Flori
da. It has been ‘shot out’’ repeatedly, but its isolation and
comparative inaccessibility, together with the absence of
fresh water, make it worthy the plumer’s attention only
when the progeny of the birds which have escaped the last
raid, have become sufficiently numerous. Cuthbert’s isola-
tion also makes it a refuge for birds which have been
“broke up’’ in less remote places, and it is not mmprobable
that the last Snowy Egret and Roseate Spoonbill of Florida
will be shot at this point.

Cuthbert Rookery was discovered some twenty years
ago by the man for whom it was named. He is reported to
have killed $1,800 worth of plume birds on his first visit.
The first ornithologists to reach Cuthbert Rookery were A.
C. Bent and H. K. Job who visited it under the guidance of

136 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Warden Guy Bradley in May, 1903. Mr. Bent’s notes on
the birds found breeding there have been recorded in ‘‘The
Auk’? (XXI, 1904, pp. 20-29 :259-270), while in his ‘‘ Wild
Wings’’ Mr. Job has given a graphic account of his exper-
lence.

I made four attempts to reach Cuthbert Rookery before
succeeding. In May, 1904, while en route to it, I was inter-
cepted by Warden Bradley in the Keys, near Tavenier
Creek, with news that the rookery had been ‘‘shot out.’’
Under his guardianship, the ‘‘white birds’’ had increased
to numbers, which, with aigrettes selling at thirty-two dol-
lars an ounce, made the venture worth the risk, (for there
wasarisk; asthe man who attempted to ‘‘shoot out’? a
rookery while Bradley was on guard would probably have
lost his own ‘‘plume’’); the warden was watched and in his
absence his charges were slaughtered. The man who was
with Bradley when he returned to the rookery told me ‘‘you
could a-walked right around the ruke-ry on them birds’
bodies; between four and five hundred of ‘em.’’

The following year, while working toward Cuthbert, my
outfit was destroyed by fire and operations, necessarily,
were postponed. That summer, Bradley was shot while on
duty, a death he had long predicted, and no further effort
was made to visit the rookery until 1907, when the plan was
defeated by conditions encountered in the Bahamas. In
1908, however, the trip was made without mishap and, once
started, proved to bea by no means difficult undertaking.
My special object in visiting Cuthbert was to make studies
on which to base a group of Roseate Spoonbills. When not
disturbed, these birds were said to lay in February and if
all went well they might be found with young the latter part
of March, before a possible looting of the rookery by
plumers.

On March 25, therefore, with A. C. Bent, whose former
experience proved of much value, and Louis Fuertes, I
sailed from Miami, at noon, on the ‘‘Pearl,’’ a 40-foot jig-

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 137

ger-rigged sharpy with a 10 horse-power engine, in com-
mand of Capt. Burton. At sunset, we anchored under
Pumpkin Key and, taking the ‘‘inside route’’, reached Man-
o’-War Key the following evening. On the morning of the
27th, we landed on Man-o’-War Key, finding a pair of young
Bald Eagles about to leave the nest anda pair of Turkey

The Crew of the “ Pearl”

Vultures about to leave the egg. Later, on Clive Key, we
discovered ‘‘ Ardea wuerdmanni,’’ breeding, and at 4 p.
m. dropped anchor off Flamingo. If Capt. Burton’s infor-
mation was reliable, we had arrived just in time to prevent
Cuthbert Rookery from being ‘‘shot out’’, it being reported
that a party of plumers had planned to start for the
rookery the following day. I regret that I cannot express
to these gentlemen in person, my thanks for the discreet
consideration which prompted them to postpone their visit.

The next afternoon, accompanied by Louis Bradley,

138 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

brother of the late Warden, and ‘‘Melch’’ Roberts, the
journey was continued toward Snake Bight, the ‘‘Pearl’’
being run to the eastward, until she grounded in about two
and a half feet of water. Going aground is so normal an
accompaniment of a cruise in the Florida Keys that it gen-
erally occasions little comment and the skipper waits philo-
sophically for the rising tide to float his craft. On the
present occasion, higher water at midnight enabled the
‘*Pearl’’ to get about a mile nearer the Bight.

March 29, when the great glowing sun rose over the
Kkevs we were already well on our way, in small boats,
toward the Bight. In occasional vague channels, the water
was between two and three feet deep, but for the greater
part of the way it measured less than a foot and at times it
Was necessary to push the boat over the mud barely covered
with water. A dense growth of brown, broad-bladed turtle
grass gave a fairly good hold for the oars in pushing, and
furnished support when wading.

The air was clear, the heavens wreathed with exquisite
cloud forms, the waters, rippled by a gentle breeze,
sparkled in the long rays of the sun and the scene was
possessed of a great charm and beauty. Ospreys and Brown
Pelicans, each fishing after the manner of its kind, gave life
to the air; the first, taking deliberate aim, with quick beat-
ing wings hovered above his prey before striking, the latter,
making snap-shots; plunged down to the waters without so
much as a preparatory flutter.

We were now in the very heart of the home of the Great
White Heron and at least fifty of these birds were in sight
ata single moment; those toward the sun, so dark, they
could with difficulty be distinguished from Ward’s Heron;
those to the west, gleaming like snow.

Often the boat ran on redfish or drum, which darted
away with a swelling wave above them, or passed close to
the two keen fins of a great saw-fish or the single fin of a
shark. Porpoises were hunting in water scarce deep enough

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 139

to float them and Fuertes saw two, evidently acting in con-
cert, round up a school of mullet and catch them in the air
as they leaped from the water.

On the Way to Cuthbert Lake

It took us five hours to reach the mouth of Snake Creek,
near the head of the Bight, and the tops of the ‘Pearl’s’
masts were then barely visible; thanks to favorable condi-
tions and Robert’s willing exertions, I greatly enjoyed this
usually dreaded, much prolonged landing. There were
great beds of Willet and White Ibis on bars at the head of
the Bight, and six Reddish Egrets were fishing there in
their eager, alert, graceful way.

At the mouth of Snake Creek we paused for breakfast,
resuming our journey through the mangroves to Cuthbert

140 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

Lake. I had formed a belief that this part of our route
would be traversed with great labor, but I do not recall a
more interesting and enjoyable boating trip. For four
hours we followed channels through the mangroves, often
so narrow that there was barely room for the passage of
the boats. The branches formed a dense canopy overhead,
and marks of the axe showed they had grown as freely
below, in places, limbs and roots having been cut out every
yard of the way.

There were obvious advantages in not being pioneers
over this trail! As the shores became somewhat drier, the
trees grew higher. The stilt-like, many branched man-
groves took the most untree-like forms, their limbs, with
those of the button-woods, being laden with orchids, wild
pines and other parasitic epiphytes. In the background,
triangular stalked cactuses, giant ferns, and a small fan
palm, I have not seen elsewhere in Florida, grew profusely.
Seen through a picturesque tangle of plant-burdened man-
grove limbs, down an aisle of dark water, they produced an
impression of the most luxuriant tropical vegetation, and
only the birds were needed to make one believe he was on
some Lower Amazonian igaripe. Birds, however, were not
common along the wild borders of these attractive streams ;
a few Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, and White-eyed Vireos,
all in their south Florida forms, being virtually the only
species observed.

At intervals, these shaded passages opened into lakes,
six in all, varying in size from a quarter of a mile to be-
tween two’and three miles in length. The larger lakes were
set with islands, breaking the distance and forming charm-
ing vistas all bordered with mangroves. Here, still lingered
hundreds of Coots and Lesser Scaup Ducks with a few Blue-
winged Teal. Here, too, were numerous fish; a bass anda
small tarpon leaping into one of our boats as voluntary
contributions to our larder.

The exit from one lake into the passage to another was

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 141

sometimes at the end of the lake, sometimes at the side
masked by over-hanging limbs, which it was necessary to
raise to permit the entrance of our boats. If Cuthbert
Rookery had not been discovered from the rear, it would
probably still remain unknown. It is difficult to believe that
anyone, unguided, could have reached it over the course we
travelled.

Cuthbert Lake is a mile and a half long. The rookery is
on a mangrove-grown island, not over an acre in extent, a
mile from the entrance to the lake, but with the sun at our
backs as we emerged from the last creek, we distinctly saw
pink-plumaged birds flitting against the dark green back-
ground of their home. They were the first Spoonbills [ had
ever seen in Florida, during over twenty years bird study
in the state. [seemed to have overtaken prinitive Florida
bird-life where it was making its last stand.

In the face of a stiff breeze, the boats were urged over
the brackish, amber-colored, shallow waters, the hard, rock
bottom making each push of the oar yield its full return.
But the life of a mangrove rookery does not reveal itself
until one is near enough to startle the birds resting or nest-
ing on the branches beneath the dense foliage, and it was
not until we were within a hundred yards of the island that
we could form an idea of the kinds and numbers of its occu-
pants. Then, the alarmed birds began to appear and we
saw that there were between thirty and forty Spoonbills, a
dozen or more Snowy EHgrets, three or four hundred Ameri-
can Egrets, at least two thousand Louisiana Herons with
possibly fifty Little Blue Herons, several hundred White
Tbises and a few Cormorants and Water Turkeys. It was a
fine sight but was soon robbed of its chief attraction by the
departure of the Spoonbills and most of the White Herons,
which gathered ina gleaming flock in trees on the north
shore of the lake. The Louisianas having no commercially
valuable plumes to dispose of, retain a limited confidence in
man and expressed their fears only by much ealling and

142 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

flying about the rookery without actually leaving it. On
landing, we found that the Spoonbills and American Egrets
had nests with eggs. Probably also the Snowy Egrets were
nesting but we did not sueceed in identifying their eggs. The
season was less advanced than we had hoped to find it, but
a later visit would doubtless have shown us only a scene of
devastation, and we considered ourselves fortunate in find-
ing an exceptionally large number of ‘‘ White’’ birds.

Snowy Egrets

Their presence was attributed in part to the prolonged
drouth which had resulted in the desertion of other rook-
eries, in part to molestation elsewhere.

It is difficult to study and photograph satisfactorily the
home-life of birds which nest in mangroves. They cannot be
seen well from below, while the foliage screens them from

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 143

Louisiana

Herons

ferns, and orchid-hung trees
on the nearest mainland, dis-
tant a quarter of a mile. My
first act now, was to erect a
bar, in preparation for the
horde of mosquitoes which
are usually the most serious
problem in life here, but, be
it said to the credit of this
insect, not ten were seen
during our stay.

above and, they build so near
the tops of the trees, it is
generally impossible to get a
suitable point of vantage for
concealment at their level. I
eoncealed my blind, however,
in what appeared to be the
best place, and left the rook-
ery for the camp which our
men had made back of the
mangroves, amid the palms,

“ Perched
on the mangroves

silent and alert”

144 FLORIDA BiRD-LIFE

Observations made early the following morning, from
a tree-top near our camp, showed that apparently all the
Spoonbills and many of the Egrets had returned to the
rookery after our departure the preceding evening; but
when we attempted to call upon them they quickly left with-
out waiting to inquire the nature of our visit. There being
no young birds to attract them, it was evident that we could
not hope to observe these birds until they returned in the
afternoon. I therefore entered my blind at two o’clock
remaining until nightfall. While I made no especially note-
worthy observations or photographs, the experience
brought me very close to the spirit of rookery life and pos-
sessed ina high degree that intense interest aroused by
one’s unsuspected presence among a great gathering of
birds. During the early part of the afternoon the Louis-
iana Herons—known locally as ‘‘ Loosies ’’ claimed my at-
tention. Their nests were everywhere; in the trees and
bushes from three or four feet, to fifteen or twenty feet
above the ground. Some were near the drier central part of
the island, but by far the greater number were in the bor-
dering mangroves. Most of them contained the full set of
three fresh eggs, but the birds were still animated by the ex-
citement of mating and in contest or display created a con-
fusing variety and volume of sounds. When perched on the
mangroves they were silent and alert, but encountering a
mate or rival, in the branches below, both uttered a loud,
sing-song, qua-haw, qua-haw, qua-haw, qua-haw, or quit-tt-
now, quit-it-now, quit-it-now, as with neck feathers bristling
until this part seemed three times its usual diameter, and
crest raised, they pointed their bills upward and half-opened
their wings. The action revealed the function of the elon-
gated neck-feathers of this species, which were so ruffled
that the bird seemed to be wearing a feather boa. While not
shy, the birds were nervous in the extreme and the snap-
ping of a twig was followed by silence and, with a rush of
wings, the sudden flight of virtually every bird that heard

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 145

it. But their alarm was quickly forgotten and in a few
minutes they had returned and the qua-haw chorus was
again in full blast. They uttered also other notes; among
them a singular growling call which no one would thing of
attributing to a Heron. With but few exceptions, the birds
observed were in full nuptial plumage, with the face and
base of the bill blue, but several, doubtless non-breeding
birds, were in winter dress.

The nests of the American Egrets and Spoonbills were
both in the mangroves, often near each other, at an average
height of ten or twelve feet. Aside from the marked differ-
ence in their eggs the much larger twigs employed by the
Spoonbills made their nests easily distinguishable from
those of the Egrets. The Spoonbills’ eggs were fresh; those
of the Egrets had been incubated for about ten days.

In the absence of their owners, Fish Crows and Florida
Crows played havoe with the eggs in these nests as well as
with those of the Louisiana Herons, when opportunity offer-
ed. But although Crows may be considered the natural ene-
mies of Herons, whose rookeries they regularly frequent in
search of eggs or young birds, the Herons paid no attention
to them and one could but contrast their conduct with that
of the Kingbird when a Crow ventures near its nest. Only
the knowledge that the rookery was doomed, warranted us
in causing the destruction entailed by the Crowe > depreda-
tions. In view of the plumers’ proposed visit, I confess I
spared no effort, once our work was done, to drive the
Egrets and Spoonbills from the rookery, in the hope they
might escape a worse fate than being robbed by Crows.

The Egrets returned in only small numbers and perched
no nearer than fifty yards from my blind, at which distance
I attempted to photograph them with a 23-inch lens, having
onmy ground glass at one time, the American and three
Snowy Egrets.

These birds were suspicious and ill at ease, taking alarm

at the slightest unusual sound. Bradley, while hunting in
u

146 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

the saw-grass, in the Everglades at the north, narrowly
escaped being bitten by a rattlesnake, which he shot with
his rifle. Later, he stated that at the time he was a mile and
a half across the wind from the rookery. The report of his
gun was barely noticeable but every White Egret in the
rookery sprang into the air, as though it had been fired at
and flew rapidly from the rookery. Several similar instan-
ces of the remarkable development of this bird’s fear of man
and his ways were observed, and herein lies its only hope of
safety. As a plumer was reported to have put it, the birds
are now so excessively shy that ‘‘ you can’t even set in a
ruke-ry without every bird a-leavin’ it.’’

The exquisite Snowy Egrets, virtually the last of their
lne in Florida, seemed less wary than the American Egrets,
as might be predicted perhaps from their smaller size, a fact
which may account for their more rapid decrease.

As the sunlight failed and the polished mangrove leaves
passed into cold shadow, birds began to return to the rook-
ery for the night. Flock after flock of White Ibises, with
bright red feet and faces, came to roost in favorite trees;
with much talking the Louisiana Herons greeted birds that
had been absent during the day; Turkey Vultures perched
in rows on the branches of a dead tree, and, suddenly, with
a woof-woof-woof of wings six Spoonbills lit up my fore-
ground. One of them perched within fifteen feet of me.
Other Spoonbills flew overhead, evidently reconnoitering,
and it was when seen against the intense blue of the zenith
that their peach-blossom color appeared to take its deepest
hue. Their flock-formation was the diagonal, single file of
White Ibis but, unlike those birds, they maintained a steady
flapping, uninterrupted by short sails.

As it grew darker, the birds became more numerous,
pouring into the rookery from every side, and as they set-
tled for the night, disputing the possession of some perch
with their neighbors, there arose a veritable babel of voices.
The Louisianas added new chucks and squawks to the quit-

CUTHBERT ROOKERY 147

Roseate Spoonbill

it-now chorus; there was the deep, rasping guttural rattle of
the larger Egret; the singular liquid, rolling woodla-woola
of Ibis or Spoonbill, I could not determine which, while from
below, Coots uttered their explosive chut and Florida Galli-
nules drew on their limitless vocabulary of hen-like notes.
Their keen sight dimmed by the gloom, the birds were
less shy. A Louisiana Heron sought what was doubtless
his regularly frequented perch almost within reach of my
foot, others took adjoining limbs, and, as the crowning event

148 FLORIDA BIRD-LIFE

of the afternoon, a Spoonbill and two Snowy Egrets roosted
in the same tree with me. Surely this was an honor these
rarest of American birds have accorded few ornithologists.
It was almost dark when I left the rookery but birds were
still returning to it, and with the air of one who had waited
with a purpose, Roberts said that ‘‘ Long Whites ’’ would
come back as late as nine o’clock.

Cuthbert Rookery should be preserved, both because it
is a fine example of a type of communal bird-life, for
which Florida was onee distinguished, and because it will
be the last refuge for several species of birds, which, with-
out such protection will shortly become extinct in the United
States. The task, however, would require the employment
of two wardens for at least four months of each year, and
it should be undertaken only when it is assured that through
lack of funds or for other reasons, the plumers would not
eventually reap the results.

“ Spoonbills flew overhead ”

PART: IVs

BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

THE FLAMINGO
THE EGG BIRDS

THE BOOBY AND THE
MAN-O'-WAR BIRD

Flamingo and Chick

Compare the decurved bill of the adult with the
straight bill of the young

BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

INTRODUCTORY

To the naturalist there is an unusual interest in the
study of island life. An island may be a world with a defi-
nitely known history. Possibly we may even give the date
of its appearance, as bar. reef, or cone, above the waters. In
attempting, therefore, to analyze the life of such islands we
are not confronted by those perplexing problems which
often render similar efforts with mainland faunas so far
from satisfactory.

The Bahamas, for example, present a comparatively
sunple case. The shallow waters of the Bahaman Bank
support a great variety of lime-secreting animals—corals,
gorgonias, alge, echinoderms, mollusks, ete., whose skele-
tons ground up by the action of the waves make a calear-
eous sand of which every island in the group, from Great
Bahama, to Turks Island, a distance of some 550 miles, is
composed.

It is not essential to describe the xolian process through
which these islands were formed—so well illustrated by the
exposure in the approach to the Queen’s Stairway at Nas-
sau—but it is important for us to know that there is no geo-
logic or biologic evidence to show that they have ever been
connected with other land. They belong, therefore, to the
class which Wallace has designated as Oceanic Islands as
opposed to Continental Islands, like, for instance, Trinidad
or England and Scotland.

Island-making is still in active progress in the Bahamas
and one has only to cruise through the group to see islands
in every stage of development and obtain, as it were, an epi-

152 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

tome of its geologic history. Closer study would reveal the
gradual growth of animal and plant life, as the islands
themselves have increased in age and become suited to sup-
port a flora and fauna.

Restricting our attention to birds, we find that they are
the very earliest forms of life to take possession of these
new bits of the earth’s surface; these little worlds. Long
before plants obtain a hold on the water-worn limestone of
the just born key, the ‘‘ Pimlico ’’ (Audubon’s Shearwater)
and the ‘‘ Egg-birds’’ (Sooty, Bridled, and Noddy Terns)
come to them. The keys furnish a home in which free from
molestation—-except by man—they may lay their eggs and
rear their young, while the surrounding waters afford an
unfailing supply of food. Later, after sedge (Borrichia),
sea lavender (Touwrnefortia), bay cedar (Suriana), sea
grape (Coccolobis), prickly pear (Opuntia), and other
pioneer forms of vegetation have covered the rocks with a
dense, scrubby growth, they become suitable for the oceu-
pation of White-crowned Pigeons, Ground Doves, Honey
Creepers, Vireos (Vireo crassirostris) and Bahama Mock-
ingbirds. Thus we advance from stage to stage until we
reach the pine forests of the older islands with their Tana-
gers (Spindalis), Warblers, Woodpeckers, and Flyeatchers.

There have now been recorded from the Bahamas two
hundred and four species and subspecies of birds (Riley,
‘“The Bahaman Islands,’’? Maemillan Co.) Of this number,
about one hundred and eight nest in the islands and most of
these are resident there throughout the year. The approxi-
mately ninety-six non-breeding birds are, with few excep-
tions, migrants from eastern North America. Many of them
winter in the Bahamas, while others use them as stepping
stones to and from more southern winter homes. In no in-
stance, unless they breed in the same latitude on the main-
land, have these migratory birds become permanently res-
ident in the islands.

Of the one hundred and eight breeding species, no less

BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE 153

than forty-four have become sufficiently changed from their
ancestral stock to be designated as new forms or species. In
only one instance, and that strange to say, is supplied by a
Swallow (Callichelidon cyancoviridis), has this differentia-
tion progressed far enough to be accorded generie rank. In
the remaining forty-three cases it is so slight that in almost
every instance it is possible to point with assurance to the
particular species from which it is believed the Bahaman
bird has been derived.

Such an analysis shows us that Cuba has made the
largest contribution to Bahaman bird-life, while Hayti and
Florida have been drawn on to a lesser degree. Of evident-
ly fortuitous origin are some half-a-dozen birds apparently
derived from Mexican or Central American species. The
ancestors of these birds possibly owe thei occurrence in the
Bahamas to the action of tropical storms. Blown to an
island, thei opportunities for establishing themselves
would be far more favorable than on the more thickly popu-
lated mainland.

As to the causes which have been potent im producing
these peculiar Bahaman forms little can be said. We may
assume that changed conditions of environment acting on
isolated species, have resulted in their evolution into new
species, presumably better adapted to new surroundings.
In the further division of a Bahaman species into two or
more races, each restricted to a single island, the ease be-
comes more perplexing. We have not then different physio-
graphic or climatic conditions to the influences of which may
aseribe the changes observed. On the contrary, we find dif-
ferent forms of the same species inhabiting islands almost
within sight of each other, where all conditions of soil, cli-
mate, and flora are essentially similar. Perhaps we can as-
sume here that through the continued isolation of a compar-
atively small number of individuals, certain characters, due
originally purely to individual variation, have become per-
petuated and specific. Among a smaller number of birds

154 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

the extent of variation would not be so wide; but this would
be counterbalanced by the fact that any dominant character
would be far more likely to be preserved through the forced
interbreeding of closely related individuals. This would
also hasten the consummation of permanent forms; the rate
of divergence among island-inhabiting species, being, there-
fore, more rapid than among those of the mainland.

The absence of terrestrial mammalia on oceanic islands
greatly simplifies the problem of existence for species whose
habits render them subject to attack from predaceous ani-
mals. Species which have become extinct on continental
areas, therefore, often continue to exist on oceanic islands
which thus play the part of protectors as well as creators of
species. The Flamingo, for example, is known in Florida
only as an increasingly rare winter visitor to the southern
coast; but in the Bahamas, man appears to be its only ene-
my, and, in favorable localities, where it is secure from
molestation, this bird continues to exist in large numbers.

Sooty Tern

THE FLAMINGO

There are larger birds than the Flamingo, and birds
with more brilliant plumage, but no other large bird is so
brightly colored and no other brightly colored bird is so
large. In brief, size and beauty of plume united, reach their
maximum of development in this remarkable bird, while the
open nature of its haunts and its gregariousness seem spe-
cially designed to display its marked characteristics of form
and color to the most striking advantage.

When to these more superficial attractions is added the
fact that little or nothing has been known of the nesting hab-
its of this singular bird, one may, in a measure at least, rea-
lize the intense longing of the naturalist, not only to behold
a Flamingo City—without question the most remarkable
sight in the bird world,—but, at the same time, to lift the
veil through which the Flamingio’s home-life has been but
dimly seen.

Flamingos belong to the group of birds which in the later
Tertiary Period doubtless were of cireumpolar distribution
and are now confined to the warmer parts of both hemis-
pheres (see also remarks on the former distribution of Pel-
icans).

Two species exist in the Old World, four in the New. Of
the latter, the largest, brightest, and most common species is
the American Flamingo (Phoenicopterus ruber) which is
found from the Bahamas and southern Florida (irregularly,
in winter) to Brazil and the Galapagos. Probably in no
other part of the area inhabited by this bird is it more abun-
dant than in certain Bahaman islands. Here, the vast shal-
low lagoons and far-reaching ‘‘swashes’’ contain an appar-
ently inexhaustible store of small, spiral shell (Cerithiwn)
upon which it appears to feed exclusively. These lagoons

156 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

also afford it a home where, in the absence of all other pre-
daceous animals, man appears to be its only enemy.

The Bahamas, therefore, are not only the best but the
nearest ground in which the American naturalist may hope
to study the Flamingo during the season of reproduction.
Indeed, it was in the Bahamas that C. J. Maynard, in 1884,
and Sir Henry Blake, in 1887, first reported from actual ob-
servation, the imaccuracy of the story that, Flamingos
‘‘straddle’’ their nests with their legs dangling on each side
a myth which, originating with Dampier, in 1669, had per-
sisted for nearly two hundred years, in default of more defi-
nite information. At about the same time, Abel Chapman
and Lord Lilford, through their explorations in Spain, re-
heved the European species from the same awkward posi-
tion, which it had held—in natural history literature, at
least—for so longa period. None of these naturalists, how-
ever, appears to have established intimate relations with
the Flamingo. Their brief observations were made either
from a distance or when the birds had been frightened from
their nests. They were not so fortunate as to discover
young Flamingos, nor did they attempt to use the camera.

It was in the spring of 1902 that I first went to the Ba-
ihamas in search of Flamingos. A plan long in mind then
matured under exceptionally favorable circumstances, and
the story of this and a succeeding expedition of 1904, as told
in ‘*The Century’? for December of the last named year, ap-
pears to have aroused an interest which possibly warrants
the addition of certain details here.

On April 22, 1902, with J. Lewis Bonhote, Mrs. Bonhote,
Mrs. Chapman, Louis Fuertes and a crew of seven negrovs,
I sailed from Nassau in the 60-foot schooner ‘‘ Estrella ”’
bound for Inaugua. As a former secretary to the governor
of the Bahamas, Mr. Bonhote had enjoyed exceptional op-
portunities to secure information which proved of the first
importance. Unfortunately our plan to visit Inaugua was
prevented by an attack of measles which, on the third day

THE FLAMINGO 157

out, fell to my lot. Returning to Nassau, Mis. Chapman and
I were placed in an abandoned lunatic ward of the Colonial
Hospital, which on one side was bounded by the lepers’ com-
pound, while the quarters for the insane were somewhat fur-
ther removed on the other. At our door was a large cistern
occupied by a thriving colony of tree toads whose united voi-
ces, echoing in their cavernous home, often made it impossi-
ble to distinguish the cries of our demented neighbors. The
experience was not devoid of novelty.

In place of the trip to Inaugua, for which time was now
lacking, Bonhote and Fuertes decided to go to southern An-
dros, where the former had learned through the Rev. F.
Barrows Matthews, of a Flamingo rookery which Mr. Mat-
thews had visited in 1898. It was agreed to make camp near
the coast and use small boats to reach the site of the rookery
while the schooner was to be sent back for me.

Two weeks later I joined the camping party. They had
visited the old rookery and explored the surrounding coun-
try seeing many Flamingos but finding no occupied nests.
No efforts had been spared to secure specimens of the Fla-
mingo, Fuertes especially desiring one to paint, but thus far
he had been unsuccessful, and while this narrative is not a
record of birds killed, the manner in which the first two of
our total of four Flamingos were secured went so far
toward compensating me for my fortnight with the lepers
and lunatics that I cannot resist the satisfaction of describ-
ing it.

The day following my arrival, being still too weak to
hunt, I was landed on a comparatively open place on the
banks of the creek at the mouth of which the ‘‘Hstrella’’
was anchored, while the boat continued toward the interior
in search of fire-wood. The discharge of my gun startled
two Flamingos, which, unseen, had been feeding in a near-
by lagoon. They headed for the interior, but, seeing the
boat, turned to fly down the creek, and from my hiding-place
behind a mangrove both were secured as they passed. Later

158 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

in the morning, and not fifty yards away, I took the first
specimen of Northrop’s Oriole collected since the discovery
of the species by the late Dr. John I. Northrop, on Andros,
in 1880; two visits from fortune which, I fear, Bonhote and
Fuertes, whose plans I had so sadly disturbed, did not con-
sider altogether deserved!

\
\
14

&
nw

Painting the First Flamingo

It was now decided to visit the Washerwoman Keys
where Terns were nesting, while awaiting a possible return
of the Flamingos to their ld nesting ground; but when we
reached the place on May 14, there were still no signs of re-
occupation.

This was my first visit to even a deserted Flamingo City
and I examined its ruins with the interest an archaeologist
finds in the dwellings of a lost race.

Exploration of the surrounding country showed that it
had been regularly frequented by Flamingos during the

THE FLAMINGO 159

nesting season. Within a radius of a mile, no less than
eight groups of nests were discovered. They exhibited sue-
cessive stages of decay from the old nests, which had almost
disappeared before the action of the elements, to those
which were inan excellent state of preservation and had
evidently been occupied the preceeding year. Indeed, in one
of these nests, [ found an old egg.

Some nests were placed among small mangroves, others
were hidden in the well-grown mangroves, and one colony,
which I subsequently learned from Mr. Matthews, had been
occupied in 1898, was situated on a sand-bar two hundred
yards from the nearest vegetation. All the groups
examined contained several hundred nests, and the one on
the sand-bar, by actual count of a measured section, was
composed of 2000 of the little mud dwellings. What an
amazing sight this settlement must have presented when it
was inhabited by red-plumaged birds standing as closely
massed as the position of the nests would indicate! With
the scene clearly pictured in my mind, I knew I should
never be content until I had seen it in nature.

The thousands of nests seen were built of mud, which, I
learned later, was scooped up by the bird from about its
feet. In selecting a nesting-site, therefore, the birds are
governed by the condition of the ground, which must be soft
enough to serve as mortar. When the rainy season comes
early in May, and the rainfall is: heavy, the water on the
flat swashes runs back into the mangroves and the birds
then build in the bushes. But when the rains are delayed,
or are light, the birds must come more in the open about the
borders of the lagoons. This enforced proximity to water,
brings with it danger from tides or the floods following a
tropical downpour, and, the nest is therefore made high
enough to protect its contents from a rise in the water; the
average height being about ten inches.

Flamingos in small flocks containing from three or four
to fifty individuals, were seen, but they were excessively

160 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

A Deserted Flamingo City Containing about 2000 Nests

A Detail of the Preceding Illustration

THE FLAMINGO 161

shy. If, without cover, we attempted to approach nearer
than two hundred yards, there was a sinuous movement
along the line of birds as the long slender necks were raised
and the birds regarded us intently. Drawing nearer, we
could hear a murmur of goose-like honkings as the birds, in
slow and stately fashion, began to move away step by step.
Then the leader sprang into the air, stretched his long neck
and legs to the utmost, and, followed by other members of
the flock, in diagonal single file, generally flew out of sight.
It is surprising how far, under proper light conditions, even
a small flock of Flamingos may be seen. Long after one fails
to distinguish the individual, in the waving, undulating line
of birds, the flock shows pink against the sky like a rapidly
moving wisp of cloud which finally dissolves into space.

The ‘‘Hstrella’’ was rated an exceptionally seaworthy
vessel in the Bahamas; but the Bahaman sailor’s standard
of excellence would not, I fear, pass current in a marine
insurance office. Bahaman boats being built largely of
wreckage, are, so to speak, born old; and the ‘‘Estrella’’
was no exception to the rule. From the beginning of our
eruise she had leaked so badly that, after his turn at the
wheel, every man was obliged to pump for a certain period.
This period gradually increased in length and the matter
was brought to a focus, when we were about to set sail for
Nassau, by the discovery of numerous jelly fish in the hold.

Even a Bahaman seaman could not ignore this sign, and
Captain Stiles announced that the ‘‘Estrella’’ would prob-
ably go to the bottom if we sailed without stopping her
leaks. How this was to be done without dry-dock or ways
was not apparent; but voyagers here early learn the neces-
sity of self-reliance, and we now witnessed a maneuvere
such as pirates had doubtless often practiced in these
waters.

Instead of turning our boat seaward, we headed for the
shore and on the full of the early morning tide ran the

‘‘ Hstrella ’’ aground. The crew, with the assistance of
12

162 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

negro spongers who, scenting trouble, at once bore down on
us, now began to pass the ballast up from below with the
energy one would pass water-buckets at a fire, and our
decks were soon as littered with old iron as the backyard of
a junk shop. When they overflowed, boat-loads of old chains,
stones, etc., were sent ashore.

The *“ Estrella” Aground

As the tide fell the schooner canted more and more to
starboard until she lay at a sickening angle. The removal
of the ballast now exposed the false bottom and, fortun-
ately, the first plank ripped from it revealed the leak,—a
hole alongside the keel through which one could shove an
arm. Oakum and soap soon stopped it; the plank was
replaced, the unwieldy ballast stowed, an anchor run astern
and, when the ‘‘Estrella’’?’ was pulled off the bar at the
return of the tide, we all agreed that we had never seen a
better day’s work.

The following year found me in attendance on the mem-

THE FLAMINGO 163

orable Congress of the of the American Ornithologists’
Union in San Francisco, and a willing captive to the charms
of California bird-life; but a negro member of our expedi-
tion of 1902 was dispatched from Nassau to southern An-
dros to report on the movements of the Flamingos, with a
view to facilitating work the following season. He was
unsuccessful, and at the end of two seasons’ searching, we
seemed to have made small progress in discovering the
location of the Flamingo stronghold. Communications,
however, had been established
with the Rev. Mr. Matthews,
who had directed us to the
abandoned rookery visited in
1902. As the rector of Andros,
and one of the twelve white
inhabitants ina _ population
of between five and six
thousand, Mr. Matthews was
in a position to be of great
service in continuing the search
for Flamingos, and his
cooperation proved to be inval-
uable. At the approach of
the 1904 breeding season, act-
ing as the Museum’s represen-
tative, he sent negroes to search for the Flamingos’ nesting
ground. It requires an exceptionally courageous native to
visit the more remote and almost unknown interior of An-
dros where, indeed, one might encounter a ‘‘Jumby.’’ Only
picked men were employed, but one after the other
returned unsuccessful, without perhaps having taken too
great risks in Jumby Land, until Peter Bannister alone was
left to continue the search, and it was owing to his persever-
ance that the home of the Flamingo was found.

Word was at once sent me by vessel, to Nassau, and
thence, by cable, to Miami, but in the meantime, accom-

“ The Gloria”

164 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

panied by Prof. W. M. Wheeler, I had sailed from the latter
place in the schooner ‘‘Gloria.’’ Three or four days should
have brought us to Mangrove Cay, Mr. Matthews’ home,
but it was May 8, when we left Florida, and not until May
17, that we anchored off our Bahaman haven. Surely no im-
patient naturalist was ever confronted with nine days filled
with more adverse conditions. Calms, squalls, head winds,
deceptive currents, shoals, reefs and coral heads, all fell to
our lot, while at one time, at nightfall, when a negro ‘‘pilot’’
ran us hard and fast aground on a lee shore at high tide, the
whole expedition seemed threatened with an untimely end.
Indeed, subsequent experience in these waters indicated
that on this occasion we must have been under the protec-
tion of a special Providence. We were without barometer
or adequate charts, had no pilot, and not a man aboard the
ship had ever been over the route before. Sighting Great
Isaac’s light at sunset, we continued running all night to the
southeast with a fresh northeast wind, in the hope of
passing to the northward of the ‘‘Josie’’ (Joulter) Keys.
At daybreak land was in sight to the southward but, com-
paratively speaking, we hadn’t much more idea what it was
than Columbus*had under not dissimilar conditions in these
waters, some years before. We, however, could understand
the language of the natives and overhauling a sponging
sloop whose captain expressed his wonder at ‘‘de fly-away
ting’’ bearing down on him, we learned that the land ahead
was Red Bay Settlement! In other words, carried to the
westward by drift and possibly tide or current, we had gone
to the leeward instead of the windward of the Joulter Keys,
and were at the northwest, not the northeast end of Andros
and apparently would have to put back virtually to the
place we had left the preceding evening—an all day’s per-
formance. This, in effect, was equivalent to starting again
from Miami.

However, when the captain of the sponger learned that
we drew only three-and-a-half feet of water with our center

THE FLAMINGO 165

board up, he offered (for two pounds, but accepted two
dollars) to pilot us through a passage immediately north
of Andros, a route which promised to save us two days; we
placed the ‘‘Gloria’’? in his hands with the result before
mentioned. We had abundant opportunity the next day to
visit the surrounding keys, but, aided by an exceptionally
high tide and much work at the capstan by the crew, and
various negroes who had been attracted by the mishap, the
‘Gloria’? was drawn inch by inch into deeper water.
Among our negro visitors was a gigantic fellow who ex-
plained that he was taking his wife and family—he hada
boatful of children—on a wedding trip; the marriage cere-
mony having been deferred somewhat later than is cus-
tomary.

The following day we reached Nichols Town, near the
northeast extremity of Andros. It is attractively situated
on high ground, with an abundance of cocoanuts along the
shore, and is inhabited by several hundred negroes and one
white man, who, hailing from London, seemed somewhat out
of his environment. We landed to send mail, and asking a
uniformed negro for the postoffice, were conducted to a
large, one-room building at the end of which, behind a
rather formidable looking desk, sat a yellow gentleman—
the resident magistrate, so we learned. He was very digni-
fied, very reserved, very formal and, ignoring our inquiry
concerning out-going mail, proceeded to inquire whence
and how we had come, and whither we were going. We
were ‘‘from Florida’’, we answered; ‘‘Ah, a foreign
country,’’ he observed. Had we ‘‘made entry at the
Biminis?’’ ‘‘No’’; ‘‘At Nassau?’’? ‘‘No, this was our
first port’’?; whereupon this representative of King
Edward, in a voice vibrant with the authority of the whole
British Government, said ‘‘Do you know, sirs, that you have
committed a great crime?’’? We expressed our horror and
protested our ignorance. What had we done? We had
landed on English territory without calling at a duly

166 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

aceredited port of entry and having our bill of health
examined; consequently we were subject to arrest, fine and
imprisonment as smugglers and pirates. We explained and
apologized and the magisterial authority having been duly
asserted, were permitted with a warning to proceed on our
way. It was an amusing bit of opera bouffe rendered still

Peter

more so when we learned, several weeks later, that our
yellow friend had been apprehended for larceny in office.
The weather was now becoming unsettled and we
encountered violent squalls which often forced us to come to
anchor. Evidently the rainy season was opening. We
therefore beat southward inside the reef and four days
more brought us finally to Mangrove Cay, where shallow
water forced us to anchor about a mile off shore. Myr.
Matthews at once identified the strange sail and put off ina

THE FLAMINGO 167

small boat to meet us, but seareely had he boarded the
‘Gloria’? when we were attacked by a furious eyelonic rain-
storm, which, accompanied by violent wind, would have
landed us on a neighboring reef had it not been for the sea-
manship of our captain, who quickly got over three anchors
with many fathoms of stout cable. As it was, two spongers
collided with us, one afterward going ashore; My.
Matthews’ boat went to the bottom, and Peter, who was off
shore in a small boat, was capsized, but thanks to low tide
and a friendly bar, was spared to lead us to the Flamingos.
For a short time, so suddenly had the storm arisen, the
occasion was not without excitement.

The approach of the storm was both beautiful and inter-
esting. One heavy shower was seen advancing from the
north, another from the south. As they passed, the one
from the north going farther in shore, the great drops of
water suggested beaded portieres. Soon after a rotary
motion was developed, the pattering drops on the sea
chasing one another like figures in a ‘‘merry-go-round.”’
The decreasing circle advanced rapidly over the water in
our direction, apparently stopping directly above the vessel
when a proper perspective for further observation seemed
to be wanting.

Six inches of rain fell in two hours, arousing grave
doubts for the safety of the Flamingos, whose nests, always
placed in the semi-flooded ‘‘swash’’, would, we feared, be
flooded by this downpour; but we tried to believe that the
storm had not reached their part of the island.

The following morning our voyage was resumed. With
Peter calling the course from bow or rigging, we threaded
narrow channels and crossed broad flats, when tide and
wind permitted and, at the end of three days, (we were now
twelve days out from Miami), anchored and in a small boat
continued the journey in water too shallow for the schooner.
Hours of rowing up endless creeks, flowing through a
depressing waste of marl and stubby mangroves, brought

168 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

us at last so near the Flamingos’ home that we beached the
boat and with lowered voices proceeded on foot through the
mud and over the sharp coral rock.

The rookery lay just the other side of a ‘‘coppet’’ of
bushes and low trees. I approached it with a painful feeling
of expectation; was it possible that within a minute or two
the vision of years would become a reality? Should I
actually see a thousand or more red-feathered forms closely
massed in one glowing bed of color, building their nests, in-
cubating their eggs, or even feeding their young?

One whose first knowledge of the glories of Flamingo
life is, perhaps, suggested by this narrative, probably can-
not fully appreciate the abnormal mental condition of the
naturalist whose instinctive desires have been sharpened by
years of longing and endeavor; neither, without a true
understanding of the situation, could one measure the
unfathomable depths of my disappointment when, peering
cautiously through the vegetation, I saw only the dreary
swash stretching birdless before me.

‘‘You aint see no birds, sir’’? replied Peter to my inquiry
for the rookery; and his surprise at the absence of the
‘‘wastly numerous hos-tes,’’ which he had reported as
occupying this place only a week before, almost equaled my
discouragement in the face of this overwhelming failure.

Our fears were realized. The deluge of four days before
had played havoe with the birds’ home. Hundreds of nests
were submerged or washed away, and eggs were stranded
on mud bars or half buried in oozy marl. The birds had
disappeared ; it was a scene of utter desolation. In view of
the probability that other colonies of Flamingos, if such
existed, had suffered similar disaster, it seemed useless to
attempt further search in this quarter.

Some work was done while returning to Mangrove Cay.
Many Flamingos were seen and painful stalking in marl to
the middle resulted in securing what were doubtless the best
pictures of Flamingos existing at that time, but they were

THE FLAMINGO 169

too far from those hoped for to afford much satisfaction.

We were now obliged to go to Nassau to replenish our
supplies and meet the steamer from New York, on which
Dr. B. E. Dahlgren was coming to assist Professor Wheeler
in a study of the Andros reef and Mrs. Chapman to take her
usual post as my field assistant. In the meantime, Peter
was dispatched to the region visited in 1902, and, on return-
ing, our joy may be but faintly imagined when, boarding the
schooner during a dark and stormy night, at no small risk,
he reported that Flamingos were nesting at this place in
unusually large numbers. Being on slightly higher ground,
they had apparently not been affected by the storm of
May 17.

Wings could not now have borne us to the scene rapidly
enough. Professor Wheeler and Dr. Dahlgren were landed
at Mangrove Cay to pursue their studies of marine life,
while Mrs. Chapman and I set sail for the Flamingos’
metropolis.

For the first time since leaving Florida, wind and tide
favored us. A distance which, on a former voyage, had
consumed four days was now covered in one, and the next
morning we reached the nearest point to which the schooner
could approach the rookery. Peter’s assurance that it was
‘‘not too berry far, sir,’’ to the Flamingos, convinced us, in
the light of past experiences, that they were distant at least
ten miles, possibly more. It was not practicable, therefore,
to go and return the same day, and though the frequent
rains and tempestuous squalls which must be encountered
were not the weather one would would select for tent-life, it
was evident that we must camp near the rookery.

Without loss of time, our outfit was embarked in the
schooner’s two boats which, with two of the crew and Peter,
we rowed or poled against the wind, and dragged over
muddy shoals and marly bars hour after hour, until, though
coming from the west, we arrived at an islet of large man-
groves, occupied by Reddish Egrets and Louisiana Herons,

170 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

which I recognized as a landmark we had reached from the
eastern side of the island in 1902. Though no chart showed
the route, it was evident, therefore, that Andros could here
be crossed from east to west. Still we continued and when
after a trying day’s work Peter said we were ‘‘there,’’ we
had no feeling of having arrived anywhere. All day we had
been following broad, shallow creeks, which, meeting other
creeks, widened at intervals into lagoons, while, on every
side, the country spread away into the low, flat swash,
neither land nor water and wholly worthless for everything
—except Flamingos. So, when Peter announced that our
journey was ended, we looked over this hopeless country in
search of acamp-site, to find that the narrow, somewhat
sandy shore of the creek was the only available place where
one might pitch a tent. At the moment, however, we were
more concerned about Flamingos than with the details of
camping. When for the second time I asked Peter, ‘‘ But
where are the birds?”’ he replied, ‘‘ Dere dey are, sir,’’? and
pointed across the swash to a thin pink line, distant at least
a mile, but showing plainly against the green of the man-
groves. Flamingos, surely; but were they nesting? We
lost no time in speculation but started at once to investigate.
Ten minutes wading through the mud and shallow water,
brought us so near the now much enlarged pink streak that,
with a glass, the birds could be seen unmistakably seated on
their conical nests, and with an utterly indescribable feeling
of exultation, we advanced rapidly to view at short range
this wonder of wonders in bird-life. ;

Ata distance of about three hundred yards, the wind
being from us, toward the birds, we first heard their honk-
ing notes of alarm, which increased to a wave of deep sound.
Soon the birds began to rise, standing on their nests, facing
the wind and waving their black, vermillion-lined wings. As
we came a little nearer, in stately fashion the birds began
to move; uniformly, like a great body of troops, they step-
ped slowly forward, pinions waving and trumpets sounding,

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172 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

and then, when we were still one hundred and fifty yards
away, the leaders sprang into the air. File after file of the
winged host followed. The very earth seemed to erupt
birds, as flaming masses streamed heavenward. It was an
appalling sight. One of the boatmen said, it looked ‘‘like
hell,’’ and the description is apt enough to be set down with-
out impropriety.

x “ Close-set mud nests each with its single white egg”

«i fe birds were now all in the air. At the time, I should
have said that there were at least four thousand of them,
But a subsequent census of nests showed that this number
should be halved. This was a tense moment. Knowing,
through many disappointing experiences, how excessively
shy Flamingos are, I feared that even the lately aroused
parental instinct might not be sufficient to hold them to
their homes and that, after all, I should be denied the fruits
of victory,—the privilege of studying these birds on their
nesting ground. Imagine, then, a relief I cannot describe,
when the birds, after flying only a short distance to wind-
ward, turned abruptly and with set wings sailed over us, a
rushing, fiery cloud, to alight in a lagoon bordering the
western edge of the rookery.

Soon we were among the apparently innumerable, close-

THE FLAMINGO lv.

“Our tent was stayed to....one of the boats”

set mud nests each with its single white egg, while two held
newly hatched Flamingos! Not only were these the first
young Flamingos ever seen in the nest by a naturalist, but
their presence was an assurance that this rookery was not
composed of the birds whose homes had been flooded by the
storm of May 17, but another colony and one which had not
suffered a similar catastrophe. I should not therefore have
to wait at least three weeks for the eggs to hatch, but had
arrived at the most favorable period it would have been
possible to select.

While we were standing, half dazed by the whole experi-
ence, the army of birds which had gathered in the lagoon
rose, and with harsh honkings bore down on us. The action
was startling. The birds in close array came toward us
without a waver, and for a few moments one might well
have believed they were about to attack; but with a mighty

174 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

roar of wings and clanging of horns, they passed overhead,
turned, and on set wings again shot back to the lagoon.

On every one of the hundreds of occasions when, in
fancy, [had entered a city of Flamingos, I had devised
some plan for a place of concealment from which the birds
might be observed and photographed. Should they occupy

A Composite Picture of Blind and Flamingo City

a site on a flat far from vegetation, similar to that of the
abandoned rookery visited in 1902, I had proposed to sink a
barrel in the marl, fringing it about with small mangroves;
but should the growth be near enough,I had decided to place
my wnbrella-blind in the bushes. But the sight of the birds
over the swash, as we landed, had banished from my mind
every thought but the desire to know whether they were
nesting; the blind was forgotten, and fearing now to keep
them too long from their homes, I erected around a small
bush, some thirty feet from the border of the rookery, a
shield of branches behind which the blind might be placed
the following day.

We now returned to the boats, seeing, with immense sat-

deeisy sosurmepy

176 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

isfaction, the Flamingos go back to their nests when we
were but half across the swash. The claim had been located ;
it promised nuggets at every step, and our next move was
to prepare to work it. I have never camped in a less suit-
able place, but if we had been beneath hemlocks with a
dashing mountain stream at our threshhold, we could not
have pitched our tent more cheerfully. At once it was dis-

“With legs and necks fully outstretched ”

covered that the sand barely covered the limestone. To
drive a tent-pin effectively was out of the question, and our
tent was stayed to roots and bushes and to one of the boats.
which was hauled ashore to windward, as an anchor for
both tent and fly. Incidentally, it proved a capital tank.
The daily rains (we had over twenty inches during the
month) soon filled it, and beyond a few gallons brought
from the schooner, it provided the only and an unlimited
supply of fresh water during the eight days we were in
camp.

The prospects of the morrow were fatal to sleep, and at

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178 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

we

an early hour preparations were made for the second
invasion of the rookery. As with blind and cameras we
now approached, the birds left their nests with the same or-
derly sequence of movement shown the preceding afternoon,
gathering in a densely massed flock in the lagoon. The
bind was quickly set in place arranged for it, and hung with
mangrove branches and palmetto leaves. I entered it and
Mrs. Chapman at once started for camp.

“A dozen yellow-eyed birds at my threshold”

This was a moment of supreme interest. Would the
birds return to their nests, the nearest of which were about
thirty feet from me, or would the blind arouse their sus-
picions? ‘Twice they rose in a body and swept over the
rookery, each time alighting again in the lagoon. It was a
reconnoissance in force, with evidently satisfactory results.
No signs of danger were detected in the rookery, and, in the
absence of ability to count, the retreat of one figure across

THE FLAMINGO 179

the swash was as reassuring as the approach of two figures
had been alarming.

Without further delay, the birds returned to their
homes. They came on foot, a great red cohort, marching
steadily toward me. I felt like aspy inan enemy’s camp.
Might not at least one pair of the nearly four thousand eyes
detect something unnatural in the newly grown bush almost
within their city gates? No sign of alarm, however, was
shown; without confusion, and as if trained to the evolution,
the birds advanced with stately tread to their nests. There
was a bowing of a forest of slender necks as each bird hght-
ly touched its egg or nest with its bill; then, all talking
loudly, they stood up on their nests; the black wings were
waved for a moment, and bird after bird dropped forward!
upon its egg. After a vigorous, wriggling motion, designed
evidently to bring the egg into close contact with the skin,
the body was still, but the long neck and head were for a
time in constant motion, preening, picking material at the
base of the nest, dabbling ina near-by puddle, or perhaps
drinking from it. Occasionally a bird sparred with one of
the three or four neighbors which were within reach, when,
bill grasping bill, there ensued a brief and harmless test of
strength.

In some instances a bird was seen adding to a nest in
which an egg had already been deposited. Standing on the
nest, it would drag up mud from the base with its bill, which
was then used to press the fresh material into place. The
feet were also of service in treading down the soft, marly
clay.

The nests at this side of the rookery were below the
average in size. Few of them reached a height of eight
inches, while nests in the older part of this city of huts
measured thirteen inches in height, with a diameter of four-
teen inches at the top and twenty-two at the bottom. The
depression forming the nest proper was never more than an
inch in depth, and was without lining of any kind.

1S0 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

After watching a nesting colony of Flamingos in the
Bahamas for ‘‘nearly an hour’’, at a distance of one hun-
dred and fifty yards, Sir Henry Blake stated, that the
females sat upon the nests while the males stood up
together, evidently near by. My dissections, however,
showed that both sexes incubate, while continued observa-
tion from the tent revealed the presence of only one bird of

1

The Blind in the Rookery

the pair in the rookery at the same time. The bird on the
nest was relieved late in the afternoon and early in the
morning. The one, therefore, which incubated during the
day, fed at night, and his or her place was taken by another
which had been feeding during the day. Or as Peter put it:
“T do t’ink sir, dat when de lady Fillymingo leave de nest,
den de gen’leman Fillymingo take her place, sir; yes, sir.”’
Morning and evening, then, there was much activity in

THE FLAMINGO 181

the rookery. Single birds, or files of as many as fifty, were
almost constantly arriving and departing, coming from and
radiating to every point of the compass.

Flamingos in flight resemble no other bird known to me.
With legs and neck fully outstretched, and the comparative-
ly small wings set half-way between bill and toes, they look

“The birds advanced with stately tread ”

as if they might fly backward or forward with equal ease.
They progress more rapidly than a Heron, and, when hur-
ried, fly with a singular serpentine motion of the neck and
body, as if they were crawling in the air.

As noon approached, the birds disposed themselves for
sleep. The long necks were arranged in sundry coils and
curves, the heads tucked snugly beneath the feathers of the
back, and, for the first time, there was silence in the red city.
Suddenly—one could never tell whence it came—the honk-
ing alarm-note was given. Instantly, and with remarkable
effect, the snake-like necks shot up all over the glowing bed
of color before me, transforming it into a writhing mass of

182 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

flaming serpents; then, as the alarm-note continued and was
taken up by a thousand throats, the birds, like a vast con-
gregation, with dignified precision of movement, gravely
arose, pressing their bills into the nests to assist them-
selves.

Under circumstances of this kind the birds rarely left
their nests, and it was difficult to determine the cause of

25 : ? SY

Photographic Evidence that the Flamingo Does Not “ Straddle”’ the Nest

The birds in the background are sparring

their alarm. Often, doubtless, it was baseless, but at times
it was due to a circling Turkey Vulture, the gaunt ogre of
Flamingodom, which, in the absence of the parent birds, is
said to eat not only eggs but nestlings. Possibly some slight
sound from my tent, where, with ill-controlled excitement, I
was making photograph after photograph, may have ocas-
ioned the deep-voiced, warning huh-huh-huh.

I had so often fruitlessly stalked these wary birds across
the swash, that Iwas tempted to step out from my blind and
address a word of triumph to the assembled multitude; but
so sudden an alarm might not only have caused the destruc-

THE FLAMINGO 188

Flooded Nests

Showing the necessity of raising the nestiabove.the:normal water-level

184 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

tion of many eggs, but might have resulted in the birds de-
serting their homes. Consequently, several hours after
entering the blind, Mrs. Chapman, by arrangement,
returned; the birds retreated to the lagoon, and I left my
hiding place without their being the wiser.

Encouraged by this sur-
prisingly suecessful at-
tempt to study these wary
birds at close range, I de-
termined to enter the very
heart of the city. Conse-
quently, when, at our ap-
proach the following morn-
ing, the birds left their
nests, the blind was hur-
riedly moved, from its po-
sition at the border of the
rookery to a point near its center, where a buttonwood bush
afforded it some concealment.

Nests were now within arm’s reach; the blind itself cov-
ered an abandoned one. It seemed wholly beyond the
bounds of probability that the birds would take their places
so near me; but, as before, the departure of my assistant
was the signal to advance. The great red army with clang-
ing of horns, again approached, reached, and this time sur-
rounded me. I was engulfed in color and clarionings. The
wildest imagination could not have conceived of so thrilling
an experience. Seated on the deserted nest, I myself seemed
to have become a Flamingo.

The blind, strange to say, aroused no suspicion. With-
out hesitation and with evident recognition of their home,
the splendid creatures reoceupied their nests. For a time I
feared detection. It was impossible to look from the blind
in any direction without seeming to meet the glance of a
dozen yellow-eyed birds at my threshold. Fortunately, the
uproar of their united voices was so great that the various

“Swam rapidly away ”

THE FLAMINGO 185

sounds made in the manipulation of my two cameras were
barely audible even to my ears. With the wind in the right
quarter, this honking chorus could be plainly heard at our
eunp. The adults uttered three distinct calls, all goose-
like in character. The usual note of the young bird is a
whistling crow.

Brooding and Feeding

The birds of this portion of the rookery had evidently
begun to nest at an earlier date than those in the section
before visited. Many of the nests contained an egg from
which the chick was emerging, and in others were young
evidently several days old; while birds which had left the
nest were running about with their parents.

On leaving the shell, and before the plumage was dry,
some chicks had sufficient strength to respond to their evi-
dently instinctive sense of fear. At my approach they
erawled to the edge of the nest and dropped over to the
ground or water below, though beyond this they could pro-
gress but little. Chicks a day old jumped nimbly from the

186 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

Young Flamingo Hating Egg-shell

nest and ran or swam rapidly away. On subsequent days, it
became necessary to enter my blind with caution, to avoid
frightening the young in the near-by nests. At the best,
some would leave their homes and scurry away, but they
returned to the place of their birth apparently in response
to acall uttered by the parent as it stood on or near the
deserted nest. The little chick reached the top of the nest
unaided by the parent bird, using its bill, feet, and wings
in the effort. The thumb and index finger are both provided
with a somewhat recurved nail, which in this connection
may be functional. The parents evidently recognized their
own offspring, and when a youngster lost his way, his nape
was promptly pinched by every old bird within whose reach

THE FLAMINGO 187

he came, a method which was effective in keeping him on
the move until he found his own home. ;

The young stay in the nest until they are three or four
days old. During this time they are brooded by the parents,
one or the other of which is always in attendance. Witha
bill as large as their nestling’s body, it was of special inter-

r

Young Flamingo Returning to the Nest

est to observe how the latter would be fed. The operation
is admirably shown in the colored frontispiece. What, in
effect, is regurgitated clam broth, is taken drop by drop
from the tip of the parent’s bill. At times the bird,
standing above its chick, leans over and feeds it, or while
brooding, a snowy head is pushed out from a vermillion
wing, and with a swan-like movement the neck is gracefully
curved as the food is administered.

This is the young bird’s first meal. His next attempts at
eating are of special interest. It will be observed that the
bill in a newly hatched Flamingo hears small resemblance

Iss BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

”

“ The bill shows first signs of convexity

“The bird now feeds after the singular manner of the adult "

THE FLAMINGO 189

to the singular, decurved organ of the adult. In the chick
the bill is short and straight, with no hint of future curva-
ture; and at this stage of its existence the bird feeds in a
manner wholly unlike that employed by the old birds. It
picks up its food. The second meal, then, consists of bits of
the egg-shell whence the chick has lately emerged. This
bone-forming matter evidently now takes the place of the
Cerithium shells which the parents seem to find essential to
their well-being.

When the bird is about three weeks old, the bill first
shows signs of convexity, and the bird now feeds after the
singular manner of the adult, standing on its head, as it
were, the maxilla, or upper half of the bill, being nearly
parallel with the ground. Contrary to the rule among birds
the lower portion of the bill is immovable, but the upper
portion, moving rapidly, forces little jets of water from
each side of the base of the bill, washing out the sand and the
mud through the strainers with which the sides of the bill

190 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

are beset, and leaving the shells on which the bird subsists.
Or, as Peter expressed it: ‘‘It seems to me, sir, when de/
Fillymingo feed dat de upper lip do all de wuk, sir, when he
chomp, chomp, chomp, and grabble in de mud.’’

Young Flamingos, taken from the rookery for further
study, subsequently gave an apparently instinctive exhibit
of a characteristic habit of the adult bird when feeding. As
I have said, the old birds live ona small spiral shell and
its contents. This food is always obtained under water
which may reach to the bird’s body. When the shells are
apparently embedded in the marl, the feeding bird loosens
them by a treading motion. It is the Flamingos’ one undig-
nified action. Birds thus occupied seem to be engaged in
some ridiculous kind of jig, which they dance with the head
and neck submerged.

Exactly the same performance was indulged in by the
young bird, which, when given a pan of rice and water, soon
danced the rice from off the bottom in order that it might be
more readily secured.

The routine of camp life was now definitely established.
The mornings were passed in the blind, the afternoons in
the preparation of specimens, and the evenings were given
to the interminable task of refilling plate-holders.

Daily squalls threatened to blow our poorly stayed tent
into the creek, and continued rains rapidly decreased the
extent of visible land about us. Nevertheless, we were not
unduly inconvenienced by the weather.

The Flamingos were less fortunate. The evidently
excessive rainfall had flooded even the comparatively high
ground on which their rookery was placed. Some nests
were submerged, (my own particular nest had already
crumbled before the unaccustomed usage to which it had
been subjected), and all were surrounded by water. The
necessity of erecting a structure of some height was thus
plainly demonstrated.

This second catastrophe to a nesting colony emphasized

THE FLAMINGO 191

the adverse climatic conditions with which Flamingos have
to contend during the nesting season. Laying but one egg,
it is probable that under favorable circumstances they can
barely hold their own, and it is therefore to be deplored that
man should be numbered among their enemies.

To my regret, our search for Flamingos so widely adver-
tised the location of the rookery among the negroes of the
island, that more than a dozen expeditions were planned to
visit it for young birds.

Fresh meat is rarer than pink pearls in the outer Baha-
ma islands. Young Flamingos are excellent eating, and are,
consequently, much sought after. Asa result of this perse-
eution on the nesting-ground, they are steadily diminishing
in numbers.

At this time neither they, nor any other Bahaman bird
was protected by law, and I take no small pleasure in saying
that when this matter was brought to the attention of the
proper authorities, an adequate bill was prepared and
passed at the next session of the colonial legislature.

Our camp site was now barely habitable, and it became
obvious that if the rains continued we should soon be afloat.
Confidence in the life-preserving qualities of our pneumatic
mattresses, permitted us to sleep undismayed by the lap,
lap, of waters at our threshold; but more valuable, almost,
than life itself, were our photographic plates and specimens,
and it was therefore determined to break camp and return
to the schooner. In spite of the disagreeable surroundings,
the swash was left reluctantly. My work, however, was
virtually ended. I had enjoyed an experience unparalleled
in the annals of ornithology, had made twelve dozen photo-
graphs and pages of detailed notes, and had secured mater-
ial adequate to represent the home life of Flamingos in a
group, to be exhibited in the Museum which had intrusted
me with this mission to a little-known country.

THE EGG BIRDS

Throughout the Bahamas the name ‘‘Kgg-bird’’ is ap-

plied to the Sooty, Bridled, and Noddy Terns. The latter
part of April these birds come in large numbers to certain
regularly frequented keys to breed. If their resort be near
a settlement they are robbed of their eggs by its inhabitants.
In Nassau, I have seen many of them offered for sale on the
street, each one with the shell punctured as a guarantee
that one was not buying a Tern. If they are remote from
human habitation, they are generally preyed upon by the
cruising spongers to whose seanty bill-of-fare fresh eggs are
an eagerly sought addition. Doubtless there are but few col-
onies of Terns in the Bahamas that do not contribute to the
food supply of the usually hungry native, hence the current
name Kge-bird. Efforts to secure the passage of a law pro-
hibiting the taking of the eggs of these birds has failed, and,
sentiment aside, provided they are permitted to breed and
their numbers therefore not decreased, there seems to be no
reason why in a country of such limited food products, this
source of supply should not be drawn upon.

On May 11, 1902, when the ‘‘Estrella’’ dropped anchor
off the Washerwoman Keys, we found that the Egg-birds
had evidently been in possession for more than a week, since
all three species were incubating their eggs.

After a wide experience in colonies of Common Terns,
where every bird is up in the air screaming a harsh protest
before you put foot on the island, it was pleasant to be met
at our landing-place by groups of Noddies which, with no
trace of the nervousness so characteristic of our northern
Terns, regarded us calmly almost at arm’s length. When
they did fly they were comparatively silent uttering infre-
quently a low reedy cack, cack, which at times, increased to
a rolling, guttural k-r-1-r-r.

THE EGG BIRDS 193

Bird photography with such willing subjects became as
simple as the photographing of nest and eggs alone; while
Fuertes found sitters who seemed to appreciate the honor of
being immortalized by his peneil.

Noddy Terns
“ Regarded us calmly almost at arm’s length”

It is the normal habit of the Noddy to build a crude plat-
form-nest of twigs with a few pebbles or shells, on top of
the bushes. Many birds on Washerwoman Key had con-
structed such a dwelling, but by far, the greater number laid
on the ground under the dense thickets, and built no nest
at all.

Possibly the ground-nesting habit is a result of the per-
secution by negro spongers to which the birds have long
been subjected. The birds which nested on top of the bushes
were far more likely to be robbed than those which deposited

their eggs on the ground on rocks below, and the birds with
4

BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

Noddy Nesting on the Ground

THE EGG BIRDS 195

terrestrial nesting habit have therefore been more success-
ful in perpetuating their kind.

While the extreme tameness of the Noddies is no doubt
in part due to their comparative isolation and would proba-
bly disappear with increasing contact with man, it is appar-
ently to be attributed more to temperament than to environ-

Sooty Tern on Nest

ment. The Sooty Tern was much shyer than the Noddy,
while the Bridled Tern was nearly if not quite as wild as our
Common Tern though all three species, so far as man is
concerned, are subjected to exactly the same conditions.
The Sooty Terns were more numerous than the Noddies.
They invariably laid on the ground, generally under the
bushes, making no attempt at nest-building other than a
slight hollow in the earth when circumstances permitted.
The Sooties were more common at the northern, Noddies at
the southern end of the key, where, however, both species
nested under the bushes more ov less closely associated.

196 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

The Sooty’s common flight note is a squeaky quack and a
clearly enunciated, high pitched ker-wachky-wack. Nesting
birds when disturbed uttered a sharp barking note, chang-
ing to a long-drawn, aggressive squawk, suggesting the
notes of an annoyed brooding hen. Indeed, as one crawled

Noddy in Flight

through the more or less open spaces beneath the bushes
with birds protesting or retreating, one seemed to have in-
vaded a densely populated hen-yard.

As the only Tern with a rounded, instead of forked tail,
the Noddy might be expected to differ in flight from other
members of its family. In fact, it suggested, when in the
air, a light-bodied, long-winged, long-tailed Pigeon. They fly
rapidly, never hovering with the Sooties, and they were
often seen pursuing each other high in the air in what were
doubtless mating flights.

Sooty Terns in flight are much like Common Terns
and, when alarmed, they have the Common Tern’s habit of
hanging in the air above their nests. Because of their com-
parative tameness and of the steadiness of the easterly
trade wind, an admirable opportunity was presented to ob-
serve these birds in the air at close range. So even was the
breeze that the birds, all facing it, seemed to be suspended

THE EGG BIRDS 197

and motionless. There was, in truth, but little change in
their position, but it was maintained by constant adjustment
to the slight variations in the force and direction of the
wind. Wings were raised or lowered, widely spread or part-
ly closed; tails depressed or slightly elevated, and fan-like,
opened or shut. In short, there was a ceaseless if uncon-
scious effort on the part of the birds to maintain the bal-
ance between gravity acting in one direction, and air pres-
sure in another, and so well did they sueceed that it was a
common sight to see one put its foot through its inner wing-
feathers and scratch its ear with as much ease as though it
had been on its nest.

Sooty Tern Facing the Trade Wind

Man, taking the Tern as a model, can duplicate its lines
and its area of wing expanse to weight, but who will endow
his creation of wood, and wire, and canvas with nerves, mus-
eles, and reflexes, which will enable it to encounter auto-
matically and with unfailing precision, the incomparably
unstable element in which it is designed to travel?

The Bridled Terns were the least common of the three
species on the key in question; but half a mile or more to the
south, on a newer key, several hundred were nesting. In gen-
eral habits they are like the Sooty Tern, but their nest-sites
are more commonly beneath a rock or in one of the innumer-

198 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

able holes or pockets of the water-worn limestone. In con-
formance to the law that southern birds lay a smaller num-
ber of eggs than northern members of the same family, the
Noddy, Sooty, and Bridled Terns each lay but a single egg,
while the Common, Forster’s Roseate, Arctic, and Least
Terns lay three.

The Bridled and Sooty Terns resemble each other so
closely (it is difficult to distinguish them in life) that a com-
parative study of their habits would be of especial interest.

Young Audubon’s Shearwater

We, however, were too anxious to continue our search for
Flamingos to devote much time to Terns, and our two days
in the Washerwoman Keys gave us opportunity for only the
most casual inspection of their bird-life.

Large numbers of Audubon’s Shearwaters were nesting
on this and the neighboring keys, but without the assistance
of Mr. Bonhote’s Irish setter we should have been wnaware
of their presence, by day, at least. Toby quickly learned to
distinguish the peculiar Shearwater odor, and when the site
permitted, dislodgement of the rocks at which he pointed
was sure to be followed by the discovery of a Shearwater,
either male or female, squatting on its egg or by its downy

THE EGG BIRDS 199

young. The birds never attempted to fly, but would run
away under the vegetation or into another hole in the rocks.
During the day no Shearwaters were seen near the key,
though they were not infrequently observed at a distance
flying rapidly and sealing low over the water; but at night,
when the Terns had become comparatively quiet, the un-
canny see-saw cries of the Shearwaters made the keys
actually noiser than, when the Terns were not disturbed,
they were by day.

Audubon’s Shearwater Leaving Nest

THE BOOBY AND THE MAN-O’-WAR BIRD

On March 28, 1907, with Dr. Alfred G. Mayer in com.
mand, and George Shiras, 3d., I sailed from Miami for Cay
Verde, some thirty miles east of the Ragged Islands, to se-
cure studies and material for a group of the Boobies (Sula
leucogastra) and Man-o’-War Birds which were reported to
breed there. We were aboard the ‘‘Physalia,’’ a 56-foot
keteh, with a 20-horse-power engine, belonging to the Marine
Biological Laboratory of the Carnegie Institution, which
Dr. Mayer, the Director of the Laboratory, after establish-
ing a temporary laboratory at Nassau, placed at the dis-
posal of the Museum for the proposed trip.

In reassuring contrast to our equipment on the
‘*Gloria’’, we now had every desirable chart of the Baha-
mas, and employed a pilot whenever we entered unknown
waters. At sunset we passed through the narrow cut be-
tween Gun Cay and Cat Cay and came to anchor for the
night. The following morning we got under way at half past
three and, using the engine in the face of light head winds,
reached the so-called ‘‘ Northwest Passage’’ at two o’clock,
and dropped anchor in Nassau harbor at midnight. For-
tunately we did not know this was to be not only our best,
but virtually our only good day’s run during the month
which our expedition required.

It was ten o’clock the next morning before the health offi-
cer of the port, for whom we were obliged to send a messen-
ger, examined our papers and permitted us to land. But in
marked contrast to this leisurely way of doing business—
which on a former occasion kept us aboard our boat from
four in the afternoon until the following morning—the Gov-
ernor, Sir William Grey-Wilson, promptly consented to
grant the permit which, in accordance with the law passed

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 201

after the intercession for protection of Flamingos, was now
required before the specimens I desired could be taken le-
gally. Asa matter of fact, the statute read ‘‘the Governor
in Council may grant,’’ etc., and we esteemed it a rare exam-
ple of official courtesy and good judgment, that rather than
hold us over Sunday until the Council could be assembled,
we were permitted to depart, leaving the permit to be issued
in our absence.

The “ Physalia’”’

On March 31, therefore, we left Nassau for Cay Verde,
distant two hundred and thirty miles. The air was absolute-
ly ealm; the water of mirror-like smoothness and as clear as
a lens, revealing, with astonishing distinctness, even
grains of sand at a depth of four and five fathoms.

The Bahaman Banks, except at their margins, might be
called the deserts of the sea. The water is so shallow that
the heavy seas quickly raise what may be termed a sand

202 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

storm, which prevents the growth of such forms of life as
flourish on the reefs. Hence, the bottom is usually as clean
and smooth as a sanded floor. Fish, finding neither food nor
hiding-places, are rare, and for the first-named reason, birds
are wanting. I have sailed for days over the Banks with-
out seeing so much as a Tern.

After running for forty miles under power, we anchored
off Norman Key—where an hour or two ashore resulted in
the observation of the common key birds—the Bahaman
Mockingbird, Vireo (IV. crassirostris), and Honey Creeper,
which was nesting, together with a singing Catbird ((Galeos-
coptes), a species which was also found in song in Nassau.
The beach was marked with tracks, probably of the Yellow-
erowned Night Heron, which oceurs frequently on even the
smallest keys, running about under the dense, scrubby veg-
etation, more like a Rail than a Heron.

April 1, threatened to end the cruise. Six hours’ beating
against a strong southwest wind having yielded only eight
miles, we came to anchor under Elbers Key, which, although
only a few hundred yards long, gave us some protection.
The surf on the southern side of the key was magnificent,
the now heavy seas striking the jagged limestone as they
would a breakwater and throwing white masses of water in-
to the air with the force and effect of a submarine explosion.
While congratulating ourselves that we were on the right
side of the key, where, in marked contrast, the water met
the beach with scarce a ripple, a bank of black clouds began
to form at the northern horizon; the south wind dropped
suddenly, and over the dark waters at the north, a line of
foam was seen advancing so rapidly that in less than ten
minutes the surf changed sides, so to speak, and we were
now on the wrong side of the key.

To seek shelter from the southern wind, we had gone as
near the key as our draught would permit, and this surpris-
ing shift placed us almost in the surf. It was evident that
the vessel could be saved only by leaving this position at

BOOBY AND MAN-O'-WAR BIRD 203

onee, rounding the key, and making out into the open wa-
ters to the westward; but no sooner was our anchor raised
than, in spite of our engine, the boat was flung toward the
key. Fortunately her head swung about and before a sec-
ond sea could throw us on the rocks, the boat, obeying her
helm, veered to the eastward and, after grounding twice,
barely missed the southeast extremity of the reef and was
im open water. It wasacase of what Dr. Mayer aptly de-
scribed as ‘‘touch and go’’ and extremely bewildering to the
mind of alandsman. But, as predicted by my always cheer-
ful friend, Mr. Shirvas, ‘‘the worst was yet to come.’’

In order to secure an offing whence we might run before
the storm without bringing us up on the line of keys to the
eastward,—for it was now dark—it was necessary to run
some distance to the westward. This brought us into the
trough of the sea, where we rolled so violently that the small
boat in the leeward davits, dipped enough water to exert a
leverage which threatened to place us on our beam ends;
fortunately, a wave knocked the boat from its fastenings
and it was drawn aboard.

The ‘‘Physalia’’ was now swept by wave after wave, and
T recall the expression of one of unusual size which [ looked
squarely in the face, for what seemed an interminable per-
iod. Whether it was of the traditional ‘‘mast-head”’ height
T am not prepared to say; for the moment, I was more than
content to observe that it was very much higher than my
head and beyond that Iwas concerned wholly with its
further movements—was it going or coming? With evident
consideration for the Museum’s bird groups, it went !

It may be placed to the credit of the ‘‘Physalia’’ and her
commander that she finally reached a point where we could
turn to the southward; then, stopping the engine, we raised
a hands-breadth of jigger and staysail and ran before the
storm. Beyond the not too vague possibility of bringing up
on one of the reefs, shoals and keys which lay ahead, we
were for the time in no immediate danger; but as the wind

204 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

increased in force, reaching, as we afterward learned, 2
maxinum of eighty miles an hour, the sea rose correspond-
ingly, and it required an experienced hand to hold the boat
to her course and avoid an upset.

So, we wallowed along with the water sloshing over
everything above decks and below, and with the always en-
livening prospect that the black wall ahead might conceal a
port for which we had not started; when at midnight it was
discovered that the motion of the boat had split the seams
of our gasolene tank; the whole vessel was soon filled with
the volatile fumes and the dangers of fire became more im-
mediate than those of water. Every light was at once extin-
guished, even to the binnacle, and deprived thus of the com-
pass by which alone the boat could be held to her course,
we were in momentary expectation of capsizing; but a
pocket electric torch was produced and by its rays the com-
pass was once more made visible.

This was a long night and the gray light which finally re-
vealed the dark line of keys to the eastward, found a crew
whose one desire was to reach a harbor in which they might
rest. Under the guidance of the pilot, we therefore headed
for the keys and, touching bottom nearly all the way, reach-
ed a protected basin which was unanimously declared to be
the most attractive place that each man aboard the boat had
ever visited. The chart showed that, with only a few square
yards of canvas, we had covered ninety miles during the
night.

The day was passed in overhauling and drying our out-
fit and in repairing the gasolene tank which, fortunately,
leaked only at the top, and was therefore safe enough in
calm weather.

March 3, we resumed our voyage before a still strong,
northerly wind, anchoring for the night within the Jamaica
Cays, where we rolled heavily under the influence of cross-
currents, and, on March 4, reached the excellent little har-
bor between the Ragged Islands.

BOOBY AND MAN-O'-WAR BIRD 205

We were now within thirty miles of Cay Verde, but the
wind having gone to the eastward, was dead ahead, and in
Bahamese, there was a‘‘ rage on’’ outside, forcing us to
await calmer weather. In the meantime we did some collect-
ing and photographing on Little Ragged Island which,
though uninhabited by man, has a population of cows, goats,
and chickens, the property of the only white family on
Greater Ragged Island, and very curious it was to hear a
rooster crow from the depths of a primeval jungle. Birds
were not uncommon on Little Ragged Island; a Snowy
Egret, six Tree Ducks (Dendrocygua) and an apparently
undescribed form of the Clapper Rail, of whieh only one
specimen was secured, being the most interesting species re-
corded.

Conditions appearing favorable, we started for Cay
Verde early Mareh 7, but onee deprived of the shelter of
Ragged Island, and the east wind was found to be stronger
than we anticipated. Going to windward was not the ‘‘ Phy-
salia’s’’ strong point, and we were soon forced, therefore, to
put about and return to our anchorage. Mareh 8, a second
trial was made and the sea being now somewhat lower, with
the aid of sails and engine, the Cay was sighted at 3p. M.
still about ten miles to windward. The rate at which we
were traveling made it doubtful if we could beat that far be-
fore nightfall but, the wind dropping, we lowered our sails
and under power alone headed directly for the Cay.

After a nine days trip, not devoid of incident, we ap-
proached our goal with no small concern. My information
in regard to its bird-life, while the best which could be ob-
tained, was nevertheless about sixteen years old, and was
somewhat indefinite as to the date of the birds’ presence.
When we believed we were near enough to distinguish
birds in the air our glasses did not reveal a bird over the
Cay nor were any seen flying toward it. But we were furth-
er away than we supposed and when, after a period of
pretty keen suspense and eager looking, one black dot after

206 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

another grew into a gently soaring flock of Man-o’-War
Birds and, shortly after, it was discovered that the bushless
spaces of the island were dotted with thousands of Boobies
and their half-grown young, our elation was to be measured
only by the depth of our mental depression when it was be-
heved that the Cay was birdless.

Camp on Cay Verde

The Cay, lying north and south, offered protection for
the ‘‘Physalia’’ only from easterly and westerly winds, and
as the recurrence of a norther similar to that we had just
passed through, would force a run to the southward, Mr.
Shiras and I, with a devotion to science sharpened by recent
experiences, decided to camp on the Cay, while to Dr.
Mayer was left the unenviable duty of staying on the ship. A
week’s supply of food and water and an awning for a tent
was therefore at once landed, while we followed in one of
the small boats which was left with us.

By the time our makeshift tent was erected on an oar
supported by two camera tripods, and our outfit and provis-
ions placed under its shelter, it was dark. Boobies were

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 207

nesting at our threshold, and the rays of our lantern showed
them sleeping with heads tucked under the feathers of the
back, a seemingly headless parent standing on each side of
a generally sitting, headless chick.

During the day a shift in the wind forced the ‘‘Physa-
ha’’ to run around to the east side of the Cay, where, on the
night of the 10th, in heavy thunder squalls, she rolled scup-
pers under. On shore the first rain which had fallen in
months caught us when we were least prepared for it. The
incident illustrated the difference between the seaman’s and
the landsman’s point of view; Dr. Mayer, on the unstable
‘‘Physalia’’ pitying those ‘‘poor devils under a bit of can-
vas in a deluge,’’ while we, believing a surplus rain-drop or
two to be better than the depths of the sea, were congratu-
lating ourselves that we were not aboard the boat.

Cay Verde is about half a mile long, by one-fourth of a
mile in greatest width, and roughly estimated, contains
some forty acres.

On the west and south or shallow sides, there are steeply
shelving beaches, where, under favorable conditions, a land-
ing may be easily made; on the eastern side the deep blue
waters of the ocean break directly against the characteristic
water-worn limestone rock, of which Cay Verde, in common
with other Bahama islands, is composed. At the northern
end, where the islet terminates in a point, this rock is but
little above sea-level. Southward it gradually increases in
height, and with pronounced irregularities in coast line,
reaches a bluff-like elevation of seventy-five feet at the
southeastern extremity of the islet. About one-eighth of the
surface of the island is covered with a dense growth chiefly
of sea grape (Coccolobis uvifera) but with a liberal mix-
ture, mainly about the borders, of a ‘‘prickly pear’’ cactus
(Opuntia) and sea lavender (Tournefortia).

Where sufficient soil has accumulated, the remainder of
the island supports a growth of coarse grasses, sparse on
the higher rockier portions, more luxuriant in the lower

208 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

portions, particularly about the margins of a small salt
pond, the size of which was dependent upon conditions of
tide and wind. There is no fresh water on the Cay.

In the literature of ornithology, Cay Verde figures only
in Bryant’s ‘‘List of Birds Seen at the Bahamas from Jan.
20, to May 14, 1859,’’* where it is mentioned casually as a
breeding place of the Tropic Bird (Phaethon flavirostris).
This author writes at some length of the nesting habits of
the Booby and Man-o’-War Bird as observed in San Domin-
go Cay and the Ragged Islands, respectively, but does not
refer to the colonies of these birds in Cay Verde. Possibly,
he did not himself visit Cay Verde where doubtless both the
species of birds named have nested for a prolonged period;
this Cay, so we were informed, having some ten years ago,
been the site of a guano industry which flourished until all
the available deposit had been removed.

My information in regard to the birds of Cay Verde, was
obtained from the late D. P. Ingraham, who, as a collecting
naturalist, visited the Cay about 1891. Mr. Ingraham’s in-
formation in regard to the presence of Boobies and Man-o’-
War Birds was fully verified. In May, he also wrote, great
numbers of Terns (doubtless Sterna fuliginosa, S. anethe-
tus and Anous stolidus) and a few Tropic Birds come to the
Cay to nest.

No land birds appear to be resident on Cay Verde, but it
is evidently visited by numbers of migrants. During our
stay the following species were noted:

Audubon’s Shearwater Fish Hawk

Sooty Tern Duck Hawk

Great Blue Heron Kingfisher

Black-necked Stilt Mangrove Cuckoo
Greater Yellow-leg Gray Kingbird

Little Yellow-leg Savanna Sparrow

Least Sandpiper Myrtle Warbler
Turnstone Yellow-throat (Geothlypis)

Audubon’s Shearwater was doubtless breeding on the
Cay in some of the innumerable holes in the limestone. No

* Proc. Bost. Soc. Nat. Hist., VIT, p. 102.

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 209

attempt was made to discover it, but the abundance of the
birds from nightfall until midnight, as betrayed by their
singular calls, together with the absence of other land near-
er than thirty miles, leaves little doubt of their presence.

A single Sooty Tern was seen late one afternoon, but
numbers of these birds, with possibly also Bridled Terns,
were heard flying about the Cay after nightfall. Possibly
they may have roosted on the Cay, or their visit may have
had some connection with their later occupation of it.

The three Duck
Hawks living on the
Cay apparenily found
sufficient subsistence in
the Shore Birds which
visited it and of which
they were several times
seen in pursuit.

The presence of the
birds above mentioned,
indicates that Cay
Verde would be an ad-
mirable station for the
study of the migration
of birds through this re-
gion. The small size of
the Cay would permit
the taking of fairly accurate daily censuses, while the dis-
tance from the nearest land makes it the only available stop-
ping place in a large area.

It is to this isolation that the presence of large numbers
of breeding birds on the Cay, may be chiefly attributed. Ani-
mal food is always at a premium in the Bahamas where indi-
genous mammalia are virtually absent, and conditions are
generally not favorable for the support of domesticated
species.

The Bahaman negro considers all flesh edible, and those

Yellow-crowned Night Heron

210 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

bird rookeries which were most accessible, have long ago
been devastated for food. The colony containing thousands
of Man-o’-War Birds, which Dr. Bryant (1. c.) found on
Ragged Island, no longer exists; its extinction doubtless be-
ing due to the habit, of which we were told, of collecting
Man-o’-War Birds, salting them and shipping them as food
to the other islands.

As the most abundant and easily observed of the two
birds nesting on the Cay, the Booby first commanded our
attention.

The Booby Colony

Although the Booby is found throughout the West In-
dies, northward at least to the mouth of the St. John’s
River, Florida, where on March 11, 1907, I saw twelve indi-
viduals, Bryant appears to be the only naturalist who has
recorded an authentic description of its nesting in this
region.

A partial census of eggs and young, led to the conclusion
that there were about 1500 pairs of Boobies nesting on Cay
Verde. They were distributed in several groups where the
comparatively level surface and sandy soil furnished favor-
able nesting conditions. In most instances the young were
covered with down, with the brown second plumage more or

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 211

less evident in wings and tail. A few birds of the year were
already a-wing and several nests contained fresh eggs. For
the greater number of birds, however, the nesting season, as
Bryant has stated, evidently begins in February.

One or both of the adults remain, asa rule, with the
young. On March 9, the birds awoke at 5:15 a. m., when for
the ensuing ten or fifteen minutes there was a subdued kind
of quacking, and some birds were seen flying. At 5:30 sev-
eral hundred birds left the rookery ina body to go fishing,

A Call on a Booby Family

this being the general movement. Individuals returned at
intervals during the day and evidently changed places with
the bird left at the nest, which, in turn, went out to feed and
to gather fish for the young.

There was no concerted return movement until dusk,
when flocks of birds came in from the sea, the last comers not
arriving until after dark. In the meantime, the Man-o’-War
Birds had retired and it is not impossible that the Boo-
bies have acquired the habit of ‘‘staying out late’’ to avoid

212 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

being robbed of their food by the Man-o’-War Birds, which
at times attacked them as they approached the Cay and
forced them to disgorge.

Sitting or brooding birds spend the night upon the nest
with their mate stand-
ing at their side, but the
close resemblance of the
sexes rendered it im-
possible to distinguish
them at this time. When
the young is too large
to be brooded, it passes
the night on the ground
between the two par-
ents who stand on either
side, all three with their

“ Picked up bits of sticks ” heads tucked under
their scapulars.

When perched on rocks about the border of the island,
Boobies showed a decided fear of man and generally flew
before one had approached to within thirty yards of them;
but when on their nests they were conspicuously tame, the
degree of tameness being related to the advance of the nest-
ing season. A bird with newly hatched young would not, as
a rule, leave the nest unless actually forced to do so, and it
would strike at one so viciously that it was well not to ven-
ture within it’s reach. This was the extreme development
of parental instinct which now gradually diminished as the
young increased in size. Evidently as a result of excitement
caused by our presence, the birds which remained to defend
their young, threatened us with their bill, picked up bits of
sticks or grasses, only to drop them and pick them up again,
and even struck at their own young ina confused and aim-
less manner. The young also had this habit. The report of
a gun occasioned but little alarm among the Boobies, some

4

é
5

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 213

of which, with their young near my feet, did not fly when
the gun was discharged.

In spite of the apparent sociability expressed by their
communal habits, the Boobies immediately resented the
trespass on their home site by one of their own kind. Where
the nature of the ground permitted, their nests were placed

Booby and Nest

with more or less regularity six to eight feet from one an-
other. As long as a bird remained within it’s own domain,
having a diameter of approximately six to eight feet, it was
not molested; but let it or it’s young advance beyond these
limits and they were promptly attacked.

So closely, however, are the birds confined to their own
little areas that difficulties of this kind are rare and under
normal conditions peace reigns in the rookery. But when we
walked through the rookery, the birds in escaping from the
larger evil forgot the lesser one and inadvertently backed
on to a neighbor’s territory, the unusual cause of the tres-
pass was not accepted as an excuse and they found the ‘‘fry-

214. ~ BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

ing pan’’ was worse than the ‘‘fire’’ as the enraged owner,
with bristling feathers, furiously assailed them with open
bill, sometimes taking hold. At these times, and whenever
the birds were alarmed,
they gave utterancé to
hoarse, raucous screams
or screeches, though, as
a rule they were com-
paratively silent.

The Boobies’ nests
on Cay Verde were
usually a slight hollow
in the ground with
often a seanty lining
or rim of dried grasses,
but in some instances
even this humble prep-
aration for housekeep-
ing was lacking and the
eggs were laid without
pretense of nest.

About ninety-eight per cent of the Boobies nesting on
Cay Verde had young, some of which were newly hatched
while a few were on the wing, but the largest number were
beginning to acquire flight feathers. Thirty-five nests were
found containing eggs, of which twenty-one held two eggs,
while in fourteen there was but one; but possibly in some, if
not most of these, another egg would have been laid. Two
eggs, therefore, was the rule, a statement confirming pre-
viously recorded observations on the nesting habits of this
species. On the other hand, two young was the exception.
Of seven hundred and forty nests counted by Dr. Mayer on
the east side of the Cay, only two containing two young, and
both pairs were well grown and approximately the same
size.

Fixamination of the eggs contained in sets of two showed

Booby Twins

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 215

A Booby Family

that either there was a marked difference in the develop-
ment of the embryos or that one or both eggs were infertile.
For example, of thirteen nests containing two eggs, in three
nests both were bad, in ten both were good but with every
good pair there was about a week’s difference in the age of
the embryo. In six nests each containing one young and one
ege, five of the eggs were decomposed.

With those Boobies which lay two eggs, apparently a
week intervenes between the deposition of the first and sec-
ond egg, and to this unusual irregularity in connection with
the high percentage of infertility, we attribute the discrep-
ancy between the number of eggs laid and the number of
young reared.

Our studies were not sufficiently prolonged to enable us
to determine whether, when both eggs were fertile, the
young first hatched survived or whether, through continued
incubation of the remaining egg it starved and the young

216 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

hatched from the last laid egg lived; but in one instance a
nest was observed containing a lately hatched dead young
and an egg with an embryo.

The case is unique among birds, as far as I am aware,
but that the data
on Cay Verde do
not reveal an ex

ve ceptional condition
is apparently prov-
en by the observa-
tions of Walter K.
Fisher* in the
Leeward Islands
of the Hawaiian

group where both Sula cyanops and S. leucogastra were

found to lay two eggs and rear but one young.

The young Booby is born naked and since exposure to
the sun before the downy plumage is developed would re-
sult fatally, it is constantly brooded, one parent at once re-
placing the other when the brooding bird is relieved. Brood-
ing continues even when the white down is well developed;
the young bird is then too large to be wholly covered by the
parent, and lies flat on the ground the head exposed, the
eyes closed, apparently dead. This relaxed attitude is also
taken by young which are not sheltered by the parent and
we were not a little surprised on several occasions, when
about to examine an evidently dead bird to have it jump up

ye

Boobies in Flight

* Birdsof Laysan and the Leeward Islands, Hawaiian Group, U. S. Fish Comm.
Bull., 1903, pp. 28-30

BOOBY AND MAN-O'-WAR BIRD 217

and with a trumpeting eall blare at us with open mouth. Nor
do they rely only on their voice for defence, but use their
bill effectively, and, as has been remarked, they possess with
the adult the somewhat Indicrous habit of venting their feel-
ings by picking up bits of stick and grass.

Compared with other rookeries I have visited, the mor-
tality among young Boobies on Cay Verde (aside from
the prenatal mortality already referred to) was surprising-
ly small. This I attribute to the isolation of the Cay which
periits the birds to rear their young with little or no intru-
sion by man, whose presence even only as a visitor, results
in great confusion and consequent death among the young
of ground-nesting colonial birds.

The young were fed on squids and fishes which in a more
or less digested condition they obtained by thrusting their
heads and necks down the parent’s throat, a manner of feed-
ing common to all the Steganopodes with whose habits I am
familiar (including Pelicans, Man-o’-War Birds, Cormor-
ants, and Anhingas). I have not, however, seen the Tropic
Bird feed its young and it would be interesting to know
whether this tern-like member of the order employs a simi-
lar method.

Evidently but one brood is reared since approximately
three months must elapse after the egg is laid before the
young bird can fly and care for itself.

The luxuriant growth of cactus among the sea-grapes in
which the Man-o’-War Birds nested, added to the difficulty
with which these thickly branched, shrubby trees were pene-
trated, and we did not attempt to make a census of the num-
ber of birds of this species which were breeding on Cay
Verde. We estimated, however, that there were between
two hundred and three hundred pairs.

The nesting season seemed to be about as far advanced
as it was with the Booby, most of the nests containing half-
grown young, but some held fresh eggs, while a few birds of
the year were already on the wing. Their manner of nesting

218 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

prevented us from studying the nesting habits of the Man-
o’-War Bird with the ease which attended our observations
of the Boobies; and I have but little to record concerning
the biography of this species.

The Man-o’-War birds awoke at about the same time as
the Boobies, and at 5:30 a. m., were sailing over their rook-
ery. From this time until they retired, considerably before
the Boobies, and while it was yet light, a flock of birds was
constantly over the sea-grapes. The birds may be said to
have perched in the air above their homes. Only one bird is
in attendance on the voung at the same time. Both sexes as-

A Corner of the Man-o’-War Bird Colony
The blind appears at the left

sumed this duty, as well as the task of incubation; but there
appeared to be no regularity as to when male or female
should be on guard.

The Man-o’-War birds were less tame than the Boobies
and, as a rule, left the nest when one approached to within
thirty or forty feet of them. When, however, they were
brooding newly hatched chicks, they showed more bravery.

In most instances the gular pouch had faded from ecar-

BOOBY AND MAN-O'-WAR BIRD 219

Young Man-o’-War Birds on their Nests

mine to orange, and only one individual was seen with the
pouch inflated, as Fisher has described it. As I attempted to
approach this bird the pouch was suddenly deflated.

The Man-o’-War birds were not seen to devour the
young of thei own species, as they have been said to do; nor
were they observed to capture young Boobies. Occasionally
they chased the adult Boobies and made them disgorge in
the air, but evidently, in the main, they did their own pur
veying, flying-fish being taken from one bird that was shot.

The adults were not heard to utter a sound.

The nests were frail, open-worked, slightly hollowed
platforms, composed of small sticks and twigs, placed in the

920 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

tops of the sea-grapes, at a height of six or seven feet, or
among the cactuses within two feet of the ground. Several
nests are often placed in one bush within reaching distance
of one another. They become matted with filth as the young
increase in size. One adult was seen carrying nest-building
material in its bill.

Female Man-o’-War Bird and Young

The Man-o’-War Bird lays but one egg, and in a number
of nests fresh eggs were found. The young are born naked
and are brooded by the parents. As they increase in size
and become covered with white down, their wings seem to be
much too large for them to hold close to the body, and relax-
ed, are permitted to rest on the nest. Their whole attitude
suggests extreme dejection; not only do the wings droop,
but the head often hangs over the edge of the nest. When
approached they uttered a squealing, chippering call, and
snapped their bills with a rattling sound; both the note an |
action strongly suggesting similar habits of the young
Brown Pelican.

The development of the interscapular feathers in the
young Man-o’-War Bird is remarkable. Before there is any
evidence of wing or tail feathers, they cover the back like a

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 221

mantle, as may be seen in the photographs of young birds in
the nest.

It is surprising that in a bird famed for its power of flight,
and possessed of exceptional length of wing and tail, the
feathers of these parts, contrary to the general rule, should
not take the lead in development. Comparison of the young
Man-o’-War Birds and young Boobies, for example, in
which wing-feathers of the second plumage are just evident,
shows that while the former has the whole interscapular re-
gion black, some of the feathers being 3.75 inches in length,
the Booby shows as yet no signs of second plumage in this
region.

Not only are the wing feathers in Fregata late in appear-
ing, but the secondaries precede the primaries, the former
averaging two inches in length, with the greater and median
coverts showing, when the latter is just observable.

Our work finished, we returned to the ‘‘Physalia’’ late
on the afternoon of April 12, the change in wind since our
landing making it necessary to re-embark from the southern
side of the Cay, and at 3 p. m., on the 13th, we reached our
old anchorage between the Ragged Islands.

April 13, we replenished our supply of fresh water from
a well or seepage-hole within a few yards of the sea, and on
the 14th headed for Nassau, but after making eighteen
miles, strong head winds forced us to seek shelter and
anchor.

April 15, we had made only three miles, when the heavy
north wind obliged us to anchor under Nurse Key on which
we passed the day. At midnight the wind hauled to the east-
ward, giving us a lee and permitting us to lay our course.
At 6p. m., on the 16th, we were abreast of Harvey Cay after
our only good day’s run since leaving Miami, and the ba-
rometer promising settled weather, under the advice of the
pilot, but against the judgment of our commander, we decid-
ed to sail through the night.

The wind held fair but doubtless a tidal current setting

222 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

through an opening in the line of keys to the east, carried us
from our course and at half-past eleven, after a warning
bump or two, we brought up on a bar and were pounded by
the sea under a freshening breeze for the rest of the night.
Daylight showed that we were on the Cistern Key Shoals
and a mile and a half too far to the east.

We had gone ashore at high tide, and the succeeding high
tide, at noon, on the 17th, lacked at least a foot of floating
us. We did, however, after great exertion, succeed in turn-
ing the boat’s head so far around that there was some pros-
pect of getting her off the shoals at high water near
midnight. In the meantime, cable chains, spare anchors and
ballast were thrown overboard on the shoals and buoyed,
and our boxes of canned provisions were landed on the near-
est key, distant a mile anda half, where, to protect them
from negro spongers, | was given the enviable post of
guard. The quiet waters of the bay on which I was camped,
were dotted with numerous attractive little keys; Mocking-
birds were cheerily singing, Doves cooing softly, and the
glowing sun sank balloon-shaped into the sea, leaving a
sense of restfulness sadly at variance with the anxiety and
activity of the day and night just passed.

From the key, the ‘‘Physalia’’ appeared to be afloat and
in order that I might determine whether she had moved, I
arranged, before retiring, a sight of two conch-shells and a
broken limb which, viewed in line, led to the boat. She was
not visible from my camp and when at dawn on the following
morning I[ picked my way over the pointed and pitted lime-
stone, and found that the ‘‘Physalia’’ was missing from her
position at the end of the line connecting the couchs and
branch, I held a little celebration which, from all accounts,
was not a bad imitation of the one occurring on the boat,
when during the night, with unexpected ease, she went off
the shoals. A step or two further showed her riding to the
wind, in the deeper waters toward the south.

Cargo and ballast were now reloaded with a will and, at

BOOBY AND MAN-O’-WAR BIRD 223

8 a.M., we got under way witha fair wind and every pros-
pect of reaching Nassau in the evening; but when opposite
Norman Key, where on March 31, we had anchored in a flat
calm, the wind failed, and, being without sufficient gasolene
to finish the voyage, the day’s run ended at that point. Dur-
ing the night the wind rose, still holding from the south and
getting under way at 4:30 a. m., we reached our anchorage
in Nassau harbor at noon.

The storm of April 1, had done more or less damage to
the shipping here, driving the water up to Bay street and
the surf over Hog Island, while a party of tourists were for
three days prevented from returning to their steamer,
which ran to the southern shore of the island for shelter.

The steamship service to Miami having been arbitrarily
discontinued a month in advance of the published sailing
dates, and the only available schooner having left the day
before, I waited at Nassau until Dr. Mayer closed his branch
laboratory and on April 26, continued the journey to Miami
aboard the ‘‘Physalia.’’ Starting at midnight, we hoped to
reach our former anchorage off Cat Cay before dark, but at
nightfall, Gun Cay light still being invisible from the mast-
head, we anchored on the Banks where, in the face of a
strong east wind, the boat pitched violently and threatened
to snap her anchor chain.

Two hours run, on the morning of April 27, brought us in
sight of Gun Cay, but as we were about to slp through the
narrow passage between it and Cat Cay, the wind failed and
shortly came out ahead. We therefore anchored under Cat
Cay. Mr. Haigh, the sociable hermit of this attractive little
island, at once came aboard and we not only accepted his
cordial invitation to breakfast but virtually became his
guests during the two days we waited for a favoring wind
with which to cross the stream.

One might hunt far for a more charming place in which
to be weather bound. The Cay is about two miles long and,
having more soil, is correspondingly more fertile than the

224 BAHAMA BIRD-LIFE

average Bahaman key. Numerous walks which have been
opened through the dense growth, facilitate observation of
birds, and for this reason, in connection with its geographi-
cal position, the Cay would make an admirable place in
which to study bird migration.

Great numbers of Warblers were seen here during the
two days of our stay, the Cape May Warbler outnumbering
all the other species together. There were also Black and
White Warblers, Parulas, a single Worm-eating Warbler,
Black-throated Blue, Blackpoll and Prairie Warblers, Oven-
birds, Northern Water-Thrushes, Maryland Yellow-throats,
and Redstarts, anda single Kirtland’s Warbler, the only
one I have ever seen, while feeding on the berries of low
‘‘sage’’ bushes, gave me an excellent opportunity to make
the acquaintance of this the rarest North American member
of its family. Its tail-wagging motion was as pronounced
as that of the Palm Warbler.

The wind heading to the northeast, we resumed our jour-
ney at 6:30 a.m. on April 29, and after rather a rough trip
across the stream, sighted Fowey Rock light at eleven
o’clock and reached Miami five hours later,—exactly one
month and one day from the time we had left there.

I have given the history of this voyage in some detail as
in my experience, at least, a rather unusual record of pro-
longed adverse conditions, and in concluding this narrative
of an expedition from which success was virtually choked,
T express with much pleasure my indebtedness to Dr. May-
er’s skill as a commander, his courtesy as a host, and his
value as a scientific associate.

16

PART V.
THE STORY OF THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS
THE PRAIRIE HEN

A GOLDEN EAGLE’S NEST
CACTUS DESERT BIRD-LIFE

Giant Cactus and Santa Catalina Mountains
Note the Woodpecker hole in the main stem

THE STORY OF THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS
INTRODUCTORY

For the collecting season of 1906, I planned an itinerary,
which beginning in early May in Nebraska, led successively
to Arizona, Wyoming, California and Oregon. The work
accomplished in the two latter states is described in the
chapter on California bird-life, and I wish to relate here
briefly the facts connected with the securing of material for
a Prairie Hen group in Nebraska, a cactus desert bird-life
group near Tucson, and a Golden Eagle group in Wyoming.

I confess that these three chapters are inspired by a de-
sire to present a complete history of the collecting of the
‘‘Habitat Groups,’’ rather than by the necessity of record-
ing anything I may have learned of the region, or its birds,
in which the three groups were secured. To travel 13,000!
miles in three months does not permit one to linger at any,
one locality and, as soon as the collections were made for
one group, we hastened toward the next.

I was accompanied in Nebraska and Arizona by Bruce
Horsfall, artist, and J. D. Figgins, of the Museum staff,
preparateur. May 1, we reached Lincoln, Nebraska,
whither we had gone to confer with Prof. Lawrence Bruner,
in regard to a favorable locality for Prairie Hens and to ob-
tain a permit from the State Game Warden to collect the
specimens needed.

The same evening, accompanied by Professor Bruner,
we left for Halsey, in the sand-hills of the central part of
the state, where we became the guests of the Forest Reser-
vation Station.

We left Halsey May 6, going to Denver by way of Alli-
ance, and continuing our journey thence to Pueblo, the

228 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

Raton Pass, Albuquerque, and Deming to Tucson, which we
reached May 10.

Tucson was left May 21, and Medicine Bow, Wyoming,
reached the 25th by way of Yuma, San Bernardino, the
Meadow Valley Wash, Salt Lake and Ogden.

A Bates’ Hole Road

THE PRAIRIE HEN

That one should have to go to central Nebraska for Prai-
rie Hens is impressive evidence of the rapid decrease of this
fine bird. Asa boy, in the early seventies, I reeall the glut of
these Grouse in the butcher shops, my first ornithological
collection, indeed, being composed largely of wings of Prai-
rie Hens, obtained with the cook’s co-operation. But the
farmer in the spring, and the market-hunter in the fall, have
given the bird no opportunity to reproduce or time to rest,
and it is now either extirpated or rare over most of the re-
gion in which it was formerly abundant.

When, therefore, I made inquiry of various correspond-
ents concerning a place where | might count on finding Prai-
rie Hens in numbers, | was advised to go to the sand-hills of
Nebraska. In this comparatively arid region, unfit for agri-
culture except in the watered bottom-lands, the bird proved
to be abundant and here, doubtless, it will make its last
stand.

Nebraska is a connecting link between the east and the
west. Deciduous woods border the streams which flow
through the prairies of its eastern portion; conifers grow on
the mountains which penetrate the plains of its northwest-
ern portion.

The influence of such striking changes in physiography
and forest growth is markedly observable in the distribution
of birds in Nebraska.

The eastern Wild Turkey, for example, was once com-
mon in the wooded bottom-lands of eastern Nebraska, while
the Sage Hen is found on the sage plains of its western bor-
der. So, too, among many similar cases, the Whip-poor-
will, Chimney Swift, Pheebe, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and
Scarlet Tanager, nest commonly in eastern Nebraska, while

230 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

the Poor-will, White-throated Swift, Say’s Phcebe, Bullock’s
Oriole, Black-headed Grosbeak, and Western Tanager, nest
only in the western part of the state.

In brief, some eastern birds find their western limit in
eastern Nebraska, and some western birds find their eastern
limit in western Nebraska, while the ranges of others meet
or overlap. The Prairie Hen, for example, extends more
than half-way across the state where it meets the Sharp-tail
Grouse or Prairie Chicken; the Great-crested Flycatcher
meets the Arkansas Kingbird, the Blue Jay the Magpie, to
mention a few of many similar cases.

May 3, when we reached Halsey, the migration appeared
to be at its height, and many transient species were found
with those which were nesting or about to nest.

In or along the swiftly flowing Middle Loup we observed
small numbers of Mallards, Pintails, Blue-winged Teal,
Great Blue Herons, American Bitterns, Coots, Wilson’s
Snipe, Solitary Sandpipers and Killdeer. Among the wil-
lows and blossom-covered plum bushes of the bottom-lands,
were a single Bob-white, Arkansas Flyeatchers, Say’s
Pheebes, Blue Jays, Yellow-headed, Brewer’s, and Red-
winged Blackbirds (Agelaius subsp.), Clay-colored and In-
termediate White-crowned Sparrows, Arctic Towhees in
great numbers, every plum thicket holding as many as forty
or fifty males and females; Field Sparrows, White-rumped
Shrikes, and straggling Myrtle, Blackpoll, and Wilson’s
Warblers, Yellow-throats (Geothlypis subsp.), Rock Wrens,
Brown Thrashers, and Bluebirds.

On the prairie of the Loup Valley, we saw a single Bar-
tramian Sandpiper or ‘‘Upland Plover’’ onee abundant but,
as a breeding bird, now very rare in Nebraska, Prairie
Hens, Doves, Burrowing Owls, Prairie Horned Larks;
Western Meadowlarks, Lark Buntings, Lark Finches, and
Vesper Sparrows.

The Sharp-tailed Grouse (Pediecetes p. campestris)
appeared to be confined to the dune-like sandhills. In the

THE PRAIRIE HEN 231

air, were Turkey Vultures (we saw two), Ferruginous
Rough-legs, Swainson’s and Sharp-shinned Hawks, Fish
Hawk (one), Barn, Tree, and Bank Swallows.

The list shows that interesting mingling of western and
eastern forms which one would expect to find at a locality
almost on the one hundredth meridian. The Western
Meadowlark was the most abundant as well as the most
musical bird present. Its song season was now at its height,
and there were few moments from daylight to dusk when
one or more birds could be heard. The flight song was
uttered almost as frequently as the perch song. It was al-
ways preceded by a mellow, whistled whew, repeated four or
five time at increasingly shorter intervals, until it seemed
to force the bird into the air to give freer utterance toa
hurried, ecstatic, twittering, jumbled warble, as it mounted
on fluttering wings toa height of twenty to forty feet, de-
seribed an are and sought a new perch.

On the morning of May 5, I saw and heard a single
Eastern Meadowlark, whose clean-cut fifing was instantly
recognizable in the chorus of bubbling, flute-notes of the
western bird. The difference in the calls of the species was
even more marked than that which exists between their
songs. The call-note of the Western Meadowlark is a chuck,
chuck followed by a wooden, rolling b-r-7-1-1-7, wholly unlike
the sharp dzit or yert and metallic twitter of the eastern
bird.

Beyond question these two birds meet at the junction of
plain and prairie as species, not as geographic races, and
the rare intermediates from this part of their common
range are, in my opinion, hybrids rather than climatic inter-
grades.

The morning after our arrival at Halsey, Professor
Bruner made good his promise to introduce me to the
Prairie Hen and I listened for the first time to their
booming, with doubtless much the same feeling that an
ardent music-lover first hears the voice of a world-renowned

232 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

singer. The birds were distant about a mile, but their per-
vasive, resonant, conch-like notes, came distinctly to the
ear through the still, clear air.

After finding the place on the prairie where the birds
assembled, I erected there the umbrella blind, putting fresh-
leaved willow branches about and over it. The next day the
weather proved unfavorable for my purpose, but the morn-
ing of May 6, was all one could ask for. J arose at four
o’clock; there was no hint of coming day, but a great red
moon hung over the sand-hills just long enough to guide me
over the mile and a half to the blind. The mereury regis-
tered 25°; the grass was crisp with frost, the air sparkling
and deliciously stimulating. A Burrowing Owl cackled as TL
passed his dwelling and from the dark the mellow, flute-song
of the Western Meadowlark greeted the still unseen day.

A prairie is not overburdened with landmarks at night,
and but for the now faint light of the disappearing moon, I
should have been unable to find my blind without more
direct assistance from the sun. While looking for it I nearly
stepped upon a Prairie Hen who, if he was as badly scared
as I was, is still talking of the experience. Finally, I found
the little structure which seemed singuarly homelike, and,
no light still paling the east, [crawled within it, prepared
to spend a chilly hour while waiting for the curtain to raise,
but I had not unslung my camera when, from almost within
arm’s length, a positively blood-curdling boom-ah-boom re-
sounded over the prairie. The performance had begun.

At short range the bird’s note suggested the mellow,
resonant tone of a kettledrum, and when bird after bird, all
still unseen, uttered its truly startling call, the very earth
echoed with a continuous roar. Soon one could see as well
as hear, and a remarkable sight it was that presented itself.
Nineteen cock Prairie Hens were booming, strutting or
fighting within one hundred yards of my blind, the nearest
being less than half this distance.

Asa rule each bird had its own stand separated by about

MOTSUAT “DH Aq payUNoW spirqy: [[BISLOF{ awnig &q{poyured punorsyoeg
dno) Ue eMreig aL

ee,

234 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

ten yards from that of his neighbor. The boom is apparent-
ly a challenge. It is preceded by a little dance in which the
bird’s feet pat the ground so rapidly as to produce a rolling
sound. This cannot be heard at a greater distance than
thirty yards. It is immediately followed by the inflation of
the great orange air sacks at the side of the neck, which puff
out as quickly asa child’s toy balloon-whistle; the tail is
erect and widely spread, the wings drooped, the neck-tufts
are raised straight upward, giving the bird a singularly
devilish look, then with a convulsive movement of the
lowered head the boom is jerked out and at its conclusion
the air sacks have become deflated.

One might imagine that after so violent a performance
the bird would feel a certain sense of exhaustion or at least
quiescent relief, but his excess of vitality seeks still other
outlets. Uttering hen-like calls and cacks he suddenly
springs a foot or more straight into the air, whirling about
as though he were suffering from a combined attack of
epilepsy and St. Vitus dance.

But all this activity is only a prelude to the grand finale
of actual combat. Like a strutting Turkey cock, the
neighboring birds go toward each other by short little runs,
head down, the orange eye-brow expanded and evident,
pouch inflated, neck-tufts and tail straight up, and looking
like headless birds with two tails. Their meeting is followed
by no make-believe duel] but an actual clash of wings. Utter-
inga low, whining note they fight as viciously as game
cocks, and the number of feathers left on the ground testi-
fies to effective use of bills and claws.

The first bird called at 4:40, and by seven o’clock the per-
formance was practically over. Either the birds had passed
the night out on the prairie or had left their sleeping places
in the bushy coverts of the bottom while still it was dark.

It is commonly believed that the performance I have out-
lined, is for the edification of the females who have been
described as interested spectators of the proceedings, but

THE PRAIRIE HEN 935

ae

on this morning not one female was present, and I find that
Dr. Anderson (‘‘ Birds of Iowa’’) also states that he has
never seen females on these occasions. Probably we may
regard these exhibitions as the uncontrollable manifesta-
tions of that physical energy which in animals reaches its
extreme development during the mating season.

If the female should chance to be a witness of the per-
formance, it may serve to arouse her sexual ardor, but it is
evident that her presence is not necessary to stimulate the
male to his extraordinary vocal, acrobatic, and war-like
exertions.

It is worthy of note that although the Prairie Cock when
in the lists is a strikingly conspicuous creature, he wears no
adornment which cannot be concealed at a moments notice.
The sight of a passing Hawk changes the grotesque, be-
plumed, be-oranged bird into an almost invisible squatting
brownish lump, so quickly can the feathers be dropped and
air sack deflated. With woodland birds so great a change is
unnecessary, but the Prairie Hen ean hide only under its
own feathers.

With the echoing boom of the Prairie Hen’s drum, I can
still hear the fluting of the Western Meadowlark, which
perched on my blind, and, with almost deafening effect,
sang repeatedly, at about six inches from my ear.

A GOLDEN EAGLE’S NEST

It was in 1900 that a correspondent sent me a photo-
graph of a Golden Eagle’s nest which, if the birds had con-
sulted the requirements of museum exhibition, could not
have been more suitably situated. Foreground and _ back-
ground were so widely separated by an unseen middle
distance that the work of the reproducer of the former, and
the painter of the latter was clearly defined. Furthermore,
the scene as a whole, was not only picturesque in itself, but
was characteristic of a type of Wyoming ‘‘ Badland’’.

The photograph was filed awaiting an opportunity to
make a study of the scene it represented, but this did not
come until 1906. On May 25, of that year, I reached Medi-
cine Bow, the nearest railway station to Bates’ Hole, fifty
miles to the north; the site of the Hagle’s nest. Readers of
“The Virginian’’ will recall Owen Wister’s description of
this town on the Laramie Plains, which, in size and general
appearance, has apparently changed but little since the
‘‘Judge’s’’ prospective guest alighted there. But the
passing of the open range and the advent of sheep have
exerted as marked an influence on the life of the place as is
implied in the difference between cow-punching and sheep-
herding, and Medicine Bow would no longer appeal to the
most Imaginary romancer.

The ranchman who knew the location of the Eagle’s nest,
and whose services as guide I hoped to secure, was reporte |
to be seventy miles away; but when my proposition to rite
out and find him was met by a suggestion to telephone, I
was impressed with the space annihilating properties of this
invention as never before, and pardoned the wire-bearing
poles for disfiguring the sage-brush.

Within half an hour I learned that my man was absent

A GOLDEN EAGLE’S NEST 237

on a horse round-up, and thus was saved a fruitless four-
day journey. The following day, Will Taylor was secured
as substitute, and on May 27, having laid in a supply of pro-
visions at Medicine Bow’s only store, we started for Bates’
Hole. Two days rain had made the roads very heavy and,
after going sixteen miles, we put up for the night at Tay-
lor’s ranch. Here ina sheltered valley of the Freeze Out
Hills, the man, with infinite labor, had built himself a com-
fortable home, stable, corral, and other out-buildings, of
logs, every one of which he had brought from the Laramie
Mountains, forty-five miles away. Fuel-he secured from a
coal-vein on school land, distant a day’s journey. An excel-
lent spring supplied water, anda small bunch of cattle,
directly or indirectly furnished food.

It continued raining on the 28th, and the day ended with
a violent thunder shower followed by a sudden fall in the
temperature, and a stinging hailstorm driven by a howling
gale.

May 29, the mercury registered 34° at 7:30 4. m., and the
wind blew about fifty miles an hour with occasional flurries
of snow and hail. Arid Tucson with its temperature of 103°
seemed to belong to the experience of another year rather
than of the preceding week.

In the afternoon, with the hope of fmding that the high
winds had partially dried the roads, we decided to start on
our journey. <A canvas top stretched over our wagon trans-
formed it into a prairie schooner, which gave us excellent
protection from the wind and hail. Toward evening the
clouds broke into great masses and the day ended with a
magnificent sunset and a promise of a clear morrow.

We put up for the night at Dyer’s ranch unexpected, but
unmistakably welcome guests. A broncho ‘‘buster’’ with a
string of fifty horses, who had also stopped here for a
night’s lodging, gave us an exhibition of riding which would
have done credit to a Chevene tournament.

May 30, the wind was high but the air clear and exhila-

238 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

rating. Our schooner with Taylor’s sturdy horses and a
saddle horse as tender, was under way at 7:30 and we were
soon launched in a sea of sage-brush bounded ahead only by
the snow-ridged Laramie Mountains, forty miles away. The
Muddy River was bankfull, but we forded it with a rush,
and early in the afternoon reached the edge of the great
depression in which, somewhere, was the object of our
search.

In Bates’ Hole

The wind still blew violently, and it was necessary to
find a camp-site which would give us some protection from
its force. The trail through the bottom of the Hole proved
impassable and, after a narrow escape from miring, we were
forced to turn to the left and ina mile or more, discovered
the cabin of a settler named Groener, so hidden in a pocket
on the shores of Stinking Creek, that we might have passed
it unseen within a hundred feet.

We pitched our tent in the lee of the cabin—which Mrs.
Chapman was the second woman to enter—and gladly

A GOLDEN EAGLE’S NEST 239

accepted Groener’s invitation to use his stove and firewood.

Bates’ Hole is a basin in the plains, some sixty miles long
and about one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet below
the general level of the surrounding country. The bottom
is mainly covered with sage-brush, which is largely
‘«sheeped out’’, or grazed to the wood, the Hole being a
favored resort of sheep, particularly during the winter and
in May, when lambing. There were several ‘‘lambing out-
fits’’, with their gypsy-like camp wagons, in the Hole at the
time of our visit.

The walls or sides of the Hole are of Miocene clay deep-
ly seamed by gulches with out-jutting headlands curiously
weathered into castellated buttes.

In one of these buttes was the site of the nest we had
come to find. We had no map and without the service of the
guide on whose assistance we had counted, the search
seemed rather hopeless. But the excellent series of
photographs and the instructions sent by my original
correspondent, soon enabled us to locate our position and
the day after our arrival the nest was found within three
hours of our camp. It was not occupied, but this was not
essential to the accomplishment of our purpose. The site
was photographed, specimens of the soft, clay-rock collected,
and Mr. Hittell the artist, made studies on which to base his
painting of the background. Later, a new Eagle’s nest was
secured in the Freeze Out Hills and introduced into the
group on the reproduced Bates’ Hole site.

June 2, we left Bates’ Hole and on the Sth took the train
at Medicine Bow for California.

This trip offered no opportunity for detailed bird study,
but I add some notes on certain of the birds observed.

It was interesting to find that the little patches of Doug-
lass Spruce which appeared on the sides of Bates’ Hole
wherever there was the proper amount of moisture, were
were large enough to hold a few forest-haunting birds;
Audubon’s Warblers, Long-tailed Chickadees, Flycatchers

240 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

The Golden Eagle’s Nest

(Empidonax) and Arctic Bluebirds being seen in the spruce
islet which appears in the foreground of the Eagile’s nest
picture. .

In the willows bordering Stinking Creek, a pair of Mag-
pies had a nest, and a MacGillivray Warbler sang its
strongly accented song of seven notes from the shelter of a
similar growth at our camp. Here, too, were a few Yellow
Warblers and Mountain Song Sparrows. <A Catbird and

A GOLDEN EAGLE’S NEST 241

female Bobolink seen at this camp seemed strangely out of
place in the sage-brush.

A small slough at Taylor’s Raneh was occupied by a
pair of Pintails and a pair of Shovellers. One morning a
female Wilson’s Phalarope dropped into it to feed eagerly,
gracefully, with quick turns of the head to right or left and
half dives, but without wholly submerging the body.

These birds, however, were as local and incidental as
their own special haunts, and the characteristic birds of the
region were the common inhabitants of the plains, the
Mountain Plover, Sage Hen, Mourning Dove, Burrowing
Owl, Shore Lark, Brewer’s Blackbird, Western Meadow-
lark, Chestnut-collared Longspur, Western Vesper Spar-
row, Lark Bunting, and Sage Thrasher.

Other species were noted but these were the character-
giving birds, the ones almost constantly seen or heard as we
drove through the sage-brush.

To one who associates Plover with the sea-shore, or even
grassy prairies, the Mountain, or as it might better be
called, Plains Plover, seemed singularly out of place amid
the sage-brush. It was locally common and by no means
shy. It shares with others of its family, all the pretty
Plover-like tricks and mannerisms of rapid running, grace-
ful movements of the head, and dainty folding of uplifted
wings. It is not a noisy bird like the Killdeer, and I did not
often hear what is evidently its song; a hoarse croak uttered
several times as the bird with outstretched wings floated to
the earth from a height of fifteen or twenty feet.

As I feared, the courtship of the Sage Hens was past,
and no opportunity was offered to observe the remarkable
mating habits of this great bird. The females were sitting
and already the males were gathered in small flocks which
were very difficult to approach. Two nests were found, but
both had been raided and the eggs destroyed, presumably

by coyotes.
17

CACTUS DESERT BIRD-LIFE

The great cactus-covered deserts, so characteristic of
the more arid portions of Mexico, push a well-developed
arm northward into Arizona, where it forms too marked a
feature of North American scenery to be omitted from any
series of representations designed to include at least the
more pronounced types of our landscape.

Since this region has no colonies of birds, and no one
bird of sufficient size to be treated alone ina group, it was
decided to prepare a group which should show its commoner
birds as well as its commoner forms of vegetation.

Tueson, the site of the Desert Botanical Laboratory of
the Carnegie Institution, was selected asa suitable locality
for our labors, throughout which we had the invaluable
advice of Dr. D. T. MacDougal, the Director of the Labora-
tory.

We were fortunate in finding, the morning after our
arrival, on May 9, a tent-house completely furnished, from a
shower-bath to a can-opener. The preparateur of our party
was at once appropriately installed as cook, with the artist
as assistant, while the ornithologist acted in an advisory
capacity. We were served daily by the butcher and baker,
and even the iceman, and in addition to all these con-
veniences and material comforts, we were surrounded by
many birds and plants we had come to study.

From our home on a hillside, about a mile west of Tuc-
son, we hada grand view of the Santa Cruz Valley with
irrigated alfalfa fields in the foreground, the city in the
middle distance, and the beautifully modelled Santa Cata-
lina Mountains on the horizon.

The desert vegetation was at its best, and, looking out
over a sea of variously colored and luxuriant blossoms, it

The Cactus Desert Group
inted by Bruce Horsfall; vegetation prepared by J.D. Figgins

birds mounted by H. C. Denslow

Background pa

244 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

was difficult to believe that we were notin a land of great
fertility.

The palo verdes (Parkinsonia) were covered with such a
profusion of yellow flowers that they gave a yellow tone to
the landscape. The scarlet blossoms of the well-named
candle bush (Fouquieria), at the end of their slender, spiny
and general leafless branches, gleamed like little tongues of
fire. The great leaves of the wide-branching, prickly pear
cactus (Opuntia engelmanni) were often fringed with large.
pale yellow blossoms which, toward evening, became a deli-
cate shade of buff. <A eylindrical-leaved cactus of the same
genus (O. versicolor), developed a confusing tangle of intr1-
cate growing branches, and a correspondingly large number
of yellow, mahogany, and scarlet flowers. Opuntia spinosior
bore magenta blossoms, while those of Opuntia cholla were
pink, but, unlike the two species first mentioned, neither was
in full bloom.

To eastern eyes, the giant cactus (Cereus giganteus)
was the most striking type of plant-life. The drier, more
rocky slopes were, in places, thickly grown with its candela-
bra-lke forms, some of which attained a height of forty
feet. The white, waxy tubular flowers appeared in a cluster
at the end of the branches, where they opened toward the
sun. As virtually the only form of vegetation suitable for
hole-nesting birds, this cactus is possessed of an especial
interest to the ornithologist. Few specimens of any size are
without one or more Woodpecker’s holes; the Gilded
Flicker being apparently so dependent on this kind of nest-
ing-site that it is not found where the giant cactus is
absent. The Hlf Owl also is known to nest only in this cac-
tus, using the old Woodpecker holes. Several species of
birds, notably the White-winged Dove, were seen apparent-
ly probing theCereus flowers, but just what they obtained }
did not learn.

Except along the ‘‘washes’’, where mesquite grew
abundantly, there was no shade; no murmuring of leaves.

CACTUS DESERT BIRD-LIFE 245

by the peculiarity of its form and the beauty of its blossoms.

During the ten days of our stay, the mereury ranged
from 48 degrees at 5 a. m., to 103 degrees in the early after-
noon; going below 60 degrees and over 90 degrees daily.
But in spite of the fact that our tent was poorly adapted for
this kind of weather, we suffered but little from the heat. It
was the surprising dryness of the climate which most im-
pressed us. No matter how violent the exertion it was
impossible to perspire. Even draught horses did not wet a
hair, and a ridge of salt on their coat bore testimony to the
rapidity of evaporation. We were almost constantly thirsty
and consumed quantities of water, never leaving camp with-
out a filled canteen.

Judged from its inflorescence, vegetation was at the
height of its spring development, closely corresponding,
indeed, to conditions at the same season near New York
City ; but considered from only an ornithological standpoint,
the season was more advanced. The song of some birds had
evidently waned. The Cactus Wrens had already reared
one brood, only one nest, among scores seen, containing
young; and many nests of Palmer’s Thrasher contained
young nearly ready to fly. I regretted not hearing this
species at the height of its season of spring song, for it is
evidently a musician of exceptional gifts.

Experience leads us to expect Wrens to be highly musi-
eal, when, judged from its size, the Cactus Wren would rank
first among the many sweet singers of its family, but its
repetoire appears to be limited to harsh, scolding notes, and
one is attracted only by the trimness of its appearance, the
vigor of its actions, and its ability as a nest-builder.

Both Thrasher and Wren almost invariably placed their
nests in Opuntia cholla, the most spiny of the cactuses and,
with the Thrasher particularly, it was difficult to under-
stand how the bird went to and from its home without
becoming impaled.

These two birds were abundant near our camp where

246 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

other characteristic species were Gambel’s Partridge,
Mourning and White-winged Doves, Turkey Vulture,
Western Red-tail, Roadrunner, Golden-fronted Wood-
pecker, Gilded and Red-shafted Flickers, Poor-will (Phale-
noptilus subsp.), Texas Nighthawk, Arizona Crested Fly-
catcher, Scott’s Oriole, House Finch, Desert Black-throated
Sparrow, Arizona Cardinal, White-rumped Shrike, Cafion
Wren, Verdin and Plumbeous Gnatcatcher.

Palmer’s Thrasher Approaching Nest in Cholla

The Texas Nighthawk seemed more like a Whip-poor-
will than Nighthawk. Its food-flight was comparatively
short and rarely twenty feet above the ground. Even less
nighthawk-like were its singular, murmuring, humming
notes, like the sound of winnowing wings. -

An intimate study of the home-like of the Roadrunner,

CACTUS DESERT BIRD-LIFE 247

Palmer’s Thrasher Cleansing Nest in Cholla

could not fail to develop facts of unusual interest, and I
searched long but unsuccessfully for a nest of this bird of
pronounced characteristics. The mounted birds in the
photograph of the group, illustrate very well its appear-
ance in motion and at rest. The bird in the background,
with lowered head and horizontal tail, is rmmning as only a
Roadrunner can; while the one in the foreground represents
a pose assumed when the bird’s body stops and the tail ap-
pears to go on.

The Roadrunner is not usually credited with much vocal
ability, but at times it mounts to a low pereh and, with tail
drooped like a Thrasher’s, utters a low, moaning, pervasive

248 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

coo. A chittering note, possibly of alarm, is produced by a
rapid striking of the mandibles.

From May 14 to 17, we camped at the mouth of Pima
Canon, in the Santa Catalina Mountains, about twelve miles
from Tueson. After crossing the sandy bed of the Santa
Cruz Valley, where the creosote bush (Covillea) now cov-
ered with innumerable little downy, white seed-balls, was

Mourning Dove Nesting in Cholla

the prevailing plant, we ascended the rocky mesa where the
various species of cactus grow more luxuriantly than we
had found them in the vicinity of Tueson. Birds, too, were
more abundant and we added a number of species to the list
of those observed about the eity.

About a mile above our camp, excellent water could still
be found ina stream flowing through and over the rocks in
the bottom of the canon, and this proved a source of attrac-
tion to many species of birds.

Morning and evening an almost continuous flight of
Mourning and White-winged Doves passed our camp in
going from the desert to the water, up the cation and back

CACTUS DESERT BIRD-LIFE 249

again. Both birds nested commonly in the dense growth on
the mesa; the Mourning Doves in the cholla, the White-
winged, in the palo verde, and the soft cooing of the former
and vigorous, cookeree, cookeree, coo-ree-coo, cook-coo, ree-
coo, cook-coo, ree-coo were among the commonest bird notes
about our camp.

As we lay rolled in our blankets, in the early morning,
Gambel’s Partridges crowed from the near-by bushes or
chattered conversationally, as with nodding crests they ran
gracefully about us. Cardinals and Cafion Wrens whistled,
Cactus Wrens scolded and, occasionally there was an out-
burst of Thrasher or Mockingbird music.

Less welcome neighbors were the little striped skunks
which at night frolicked about the camp and rummaged
among our provisions, without our daring to resent their fa-
milarity.

The Gila monster was also an inhabitant of the canon;
the artist brought one to our camp in his umbrella, but it
refused to partake of our hospitality and escaped during the
night.

One evening, when the canon was in shadow and the sun
still illumined the mountain tops, a coyote, following the
wind, ran up the bed of the stream, almost reaching me
before he seemed aware of my presence. Then he leaped
hghtly up the steep slope. Twice he paused and whined
anxiously, then bounded behind a rock and disappeared; a
pitiful, gaunt, worn, seemingly homeless creature.

The making of this cactus desert group called for un-
limited skill and patience on the part of the preparateur.
Every joint of cactus it contains is a facsimile reproduction
of the original, and is made from a mould.

Before making casts of each section of an Opuntia or of
the small Cereus appearing at the left of the group and the
larger barrel cactus (Hchinocactus) at the right, it was nec-
essary to remove carefully, one at a time, every one of the
hundreds of spines with which they are covered. After the

250 THREE WESTERN BIRD GROUPS

cast had been taken from the mould (the species of Opuntia
in wax, the others in plaster) they were colored from our
field studies of growing plants, and the spines were then re-
placed—an almost endless task.

Doubtless the best comment on the measure of success
attained in this work was furnished by a member of the
Botanical Laboratory staff who, after inspecting the finish-
ed group with the utmost care, declared his inability to de-
termine whether the plants were real or not!

Barrel Cactus

PART VI.

BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA.

THE COASTAL MOUNTAINS AT PIRU
THE COAST AT MONTEREY
THE FARALLONES
THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY AT LOS BANOS
LOWER KLAMATH LAKE
THE SIERRAS

» Grove

°
5

Armstron

Redwoods in the

1906

Sonoma County, July 14

BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA
INTRODUCTORY

It is impossible to speak of California descriptively with-
out using superlatives. If not the largest state in the Union
it is at least the longest; 770 miles separating its northern
and southern boundaries; it has the highest mountain (Mt.
Whitney, alt. 14,501 ft.) and the greatest depression (Sal
ton Sink, 287 ft. below sea level). It has a rainfall as low
and nearly as high, as that of any other part of the Union.

Owing, therefore, to its great extent, its diversified
topography and its extremes of temperature and of aridity
and humidity, California is a land of perpetual snow and
endless summer; of barren deserts and luxuriant forests; of
wide-stretching plains and majestic mountains; of expan-
sive marshes and bold, rocky, islet-beset coast-lines.

In consequence of these widely varying climatic and
physiographic conditions, California is admirably fitted to
support an exceptionally rich fauna. Among birds, some
five hundred species and subspecies, or nearly one-half the
number known from America north of Mexico, have been re-
corded from this single state.

However, it is not only to the favorable conditions just
outlined, but also to its geographical position that Califor-
nia owes its abounding bird-life. The mountains which enter
it from the north form an effective pathway for the exten-
sion southward of many boreal species; while at its south-
ern border, both mountains and deserts have proved gate-
ways through which have entered species from temperate
as well as from tropical Mexico.

The Great Basin, which encroaches on California’s east-
ern frontier, gives to it such characteristic interior species

254 BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA

as the Sage Hen and American Magpie. On the western
boundary of the state, an extended coast-line adds a large
number of aquatic species to its list of birds, many of which
find suitable nesting places on the numerous islands off the
coast.

California, therefore, has not only been given an unus-
ually large share of the world’s assets in bird-life, but she
has made the most of her resources. In the absence of gla-
ciers, except at high altitudes, the climate of the state has
not suffered those changes which have so profoundly affect-
ed the fauna of the once ice-covered areas farther east. The
most distinct, and possibly therefore some of the oldest
types of American land birds still exist in California. The
Wren-Tit (Chamea), for example, which is restricted to the
state, is the only North America bird for which an inde-
pendent family has been suggested. Furthermore, in addi-
tion to the preservation of these older types, California has
made birds of her own. Inno other part of America, possi-
bly in no other part of the world, have widely varying cli-
matic influences, aided by sharply defined physiographic
areas, so strongly impressed themselves on a fauna. Hast of
the Rockies, where comparatively uniform conditions pre-
vail, there is, for example, only one well-marked form of the
Song Sparrow; but in California there are fourteen. Non-
migratory, and inhabiting alike dry and moist regions,
plains and mountains, marshes and outlying islands, the
species readily responds to these strikingly different envir-
onments. This is only one case among many, not alone with
birds, but with lower as well as higher types of life, and eth-
nologists tell us that more linguistic stocks have been devel-
oped among the Indians of California, than in all the rest of
the country.

Broadly speaking, the leading physiographic areas of
California, from east to west, are the eastern desert, the
Sierran, the interior valley, the coastal mountains and the
coast.

BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA 255

The eastern desert area, in the southeastern part of the
state, is composed mainly of the Colorado and Mohave des-
erts and extends from two-thirds to three-fourths the way
across the state, being bounded on the west by detached des-
ert mountain ranges. Thisis an area of excessive aridity
with, in places, an annual rainfall of not more than two
inches. Northward, the desert area, now the western mar-
gin of the Great Basin, becomes a narrow strip at the foot of
the Sierras, but at its northern extreme, broadens to nearly
half the width of the state.

The Sierras form a wall from 70 to 100 miles wide and
about 500 miles long on the eastern side of the state, extend-
ing from Lassen Peak in the north to Tejon Pass on the
south. From the sun-scorched deserts at the east, or more
fertile valleys at the west, they rise through a succession of
forest growths to alpine meadows and snow-covered sum-
mits, with correspondingly wide diversity in bird-life.

The Sierras mark the eastern boundary of California’s
great interior valley, whichis enclosed on the west by the
Coast Range. This—the Sacramento Valley at the north
and San Joaquin Valley at the south—is a, generally speak-
ing, level area some 500 miles long, and averaging 40 miles
wide. Itis devoted to grain and grazing. The interior val-
ley is bounded on the west by the Coast Range, which ex-
tends from the Santa Barbara region northward the whole
length of the state, with a conspicuous break at San Fran-
cisco Bay. Heavily forested in its northern portion, it is
comparatively arid south of Pacific Grove and, in the dry
summer season, its golden brown hill-slopes are one of the
characteristic features of the state’s scenery. By no means
so high as the Sierras, the Coast Range mountains do not
reach above the timberline and no alpine birds are found in
them.

To the west of the Coast Range, lies the coastal strip of
valleys and hills, parallel to the mountains. In northern Cal-
ifornia, where the land temperature is lower than the sea

256 BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA

temperature, the prevailing, moisture-laden, westerly air
currents are condensed, with a resulting heavy rainfall, (60
to 80 inches annually), and a consequent luxuriant forest
growth. This is the region of the redwoods. In southern
California, while the prevailing winds are still off the ocean,
they meet a usually higher land temperature; condensation
rarely follows and the rainfall averages only from 10 to 20
inches annually.

Finally, there are the islands off the coast. On the larger
ones, between twenty and thirty species of land birds have
been found nesting. In many instances, asa result of insu-
lar isolation, they have become sufficiently changed from the
mainland stock to be described as new races or species. The
smaller islands, some of which are mere rocks, are often the
home of great gatherings of sea-birds.

My own experience in this great territory, so roughly
outlined, was gained between the dates May 12 and July 4,
1903; June 8 and July 18, 1906. Obviously this is too hmited
a period to permit me to speak with authority of the bird-
life of any part of California. I have, however, seen enough
of the state to be impressed by the opportunities it offers to
the ornithologist; and it is this impression, together with
some appreciation of California’s manifold attractions for
the nature lover, to which it is hoped this sketch will give
form.

THE ENTRANCE TO THE STATE

Whether naturalist or tourist, one should enter Califor-
nia through its deserts, from Arizona; reserving the Sierras
as a climax to his journey through the state.

If traveling on the Southern Pacific railway, a stop may
be made at Yuma, on the Arizona side of the Colorado River.
I have never visited a more barren place. The creosote bush
was almost the only vegetation on the mesa, and this grew
sparsely. While an occasional Shore Lark was the only bird
seen on a morning’s outing.

In the willows of the river bottom, birds are more com-

BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA 207

mon, among them being numbers of Desert Song Sparrows,
which, with haunts not unlike those our Eastern Song Spar-
row often frequents, is still the palest form among some
twenty races of this plastic species; evidently it owes its
colors to the direct action of the aridity of its environment,
and not toa natural selection which has brought it into a
fancied harmony with its immediate surroundings.

Tree Yuccas at Hesperia

To the westward one should pause on the borders of the
lately formed and now disappearing Salton Sea, in which
White Pelicans have taken possession of an island; or, still
farther west, to observe the effects of irrigation on bird as
well as plant-life of the Imperial Valley. The desert range
is here crossed through the San Gorgonio Pass, where the
rush of wind from the Pacific to the heated deserts creates
a sand-blast from which the telegraph poles must be pro-

tected.
18

258 BIRD STUDIES IN CALIFORNIA

If the Santa Fé route be selected, the tourist should stop
at the Needles on the Colorado River. West of the Needles,
one should see the tree yuceas of the Mohave Desert. Our
American Ornithologists’ Union party passed the morning
of May 12, 1903, among them, at Hesperia.

Even a few hours amid distinctly novel surroundings is
sometimes sufficient to impress one with their salient fea-
tures, and the bristling yuccas, often topped by Cactus
Wrens, the abundance of flowers and birds, the distant
snow-ridged San Bernardino Mountains, still stand clear-
cut in my memory.

Such an experience prepares one to realize the effects of
irrigation which are encountered, after journeying through
the Cajon Pass, about San Bernadino, Redlands and River-
side, with their beautiful gardens, extensive orange groves,
eucalyptus and pepper-bordered avenues, vocal with the
songs of innumerable birds, chiefly Goldfinches, (Spinus
psaltria) and Linnets, (Carpodacus mexicanus frontalis).

The visiting ornithologist now has an inviting field be-
fore him. Possibly he could not do better than to settle
down for a time in the vicinity of Los Angeles where the
proximity of sea and mountain, will enable him to cover
readily a widely diversified territory. My only field work
in this part of the state was pursued somewhat farther
north, near Piru.

THE COASTAL MOUNTAINS AT PIRU

Piru is situated in the eastern part of Ventura County,
somewhat over fifty miles by air-line from Santa Barbara.
I visited this region from June 14 to 20, 1906, to examine
the site of a California Condor’s nest from which, two years
before, a young bird had been taken for the zoological
garden at Washington. The bird had been secured by a
ranchman named Whittaker, a man of varied interests. In
the Piru Valley he raised oranges and apricots; sixteen
miles up Piru Creek at its junction with the Agua Blanca,
he had a bee ranch, where the occupants of hundreds of
of hives were daily adding 700 pounds of honey to his and
their resources; six or eight miles further up the Agua
Blanea, at an altitude of about 1500 feet, in the Devil’s
Potrero, he had established a thrifty looking apple orchard
which had yielded prize fruit.

Whittaker gracefully accepted the office of guide which
our unexpected appearance imposed upon him. He sup-
plied a team, assisted in the selection of provisions, added a
liberal supply of oranges, which we picked off his trees, and
drove us up the Piru to the bee ranch, crossing and recross-
ing the flood-swept creek bottom, and winding through the
serub-covered grazing land, where an occasional Road Run-
ner was seen.

Late in the afternoon, we reached a picturesque little cab-
in, almost hidden in the great live oaks; as charming a home
as though it had been prepared for our coming. The Agua
Blanca, clear as its name implies, flowed rapidly past our
door to join the more turbid Piru a hundred yards beyond.
All about were the rounded mountain tops. The place was
alive with birds. One pair of Linnets had a nest in the
house and another had built on a canteen hanging beneath

260 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

« ee oe hee ta
Pe. her peel en ne e ae

Piru Canon
The site of the Condor’s nest may be seen at the left

the porch At daybreak one morning, a coyote was seen
gathering scraps at our door step, but I watched in vain for
a repetition of the visit.

The site of the Condor’s nest was distant five miles up
the Piru. We reached it on horseback the next morning,
following the stream all the way; now on narrow paths worn
in the steep banks, now over and around great boulders,
now 1n the bed of the creek itself, where we had several con-
fidence shaking experiences with quicksand.

Gold was first found in California on the Piru, and the
creek has had its share of the romance and tragedy of min-

THE MOUNTAINS AT PIRU 261

ing; such events as came within Whittaker’s experience he
recounted to us, as an abandoned claim, deserted cabin, or
thicket-grown grave stirred his memory.

The Condor’s home was in a narrow cahon with walls
some 200 feet in height, of conglomerate rock, polished by
the rush of waters at the base of the caiion, like mosaic. The
birds had lived—they build no nest —in a cave some 50
feet from the top of the canon and 150 feet from the bottom.
This they had oecupied for a number of years and probably
would have been nesting there now if the inevitable ‘‘man
witha rifle’? had not tested his gun on one of the pair.
Doubtless he considered the shot successful and the bird

vas left where it fell; to be carried later away by high
water. While I was climbing up the more sloping wall of
the canon to photograph the cave-entrance, a pair of Con-
dors, the first I had ever seen in nature, swept majestically
overhead, near enough to impress me not only with their
great size, but with their personality. We hoped that they
might prove to be in possession of the old nest-site, but they
soon passed out of view over an adjoining mountain and
were seen no more.

The following day, Mr. Hittell returned to the canon to
complete his sketch, braving the quicksands of the Piru
unaccompanied, while Mrs. Chapman and I, under the
leadership of Whittaker, went up the Agua Blanca to see
the site of a second Condor’s nest. This proved to be a
small cave, about 100 feet from the top of a vertical cliff
some 500 feet in height. The surroundings being far less
susceptible of treatment in group form than the Piru canon
site, no attempt was made to examine this nest, and we con-
tinued our journey to the ranch in the Devil’s Potrero.

The country was wilder than that visited the preceding
day, the trail rougher, and on reaching an exceptionally pic-
turesque canon, known as the Devil’s Gate, we dismounted
to elamber over the rocks, while Whittaker led the horses a
mile or more around through the woods.

262 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

I was interested to find here hundreds of chattering
White-throated Swifts. Many were nesting in holes in the
walls of the cafion, some near the top, ata height of 150
feet, others almost within reach.

Leaving the Potrero

Once through the Devil’s Gate,—which leads to a far
more beautiful country than its name would imply—we left
the sparkling Agua Blanea to follow Potrero Creek through
a narrow gorge densely grown with live-oaks and luxuriant
ferns, up a trail so steep that the horses often paused to
breathe, and in half an hour we reached the Potrero itself,
a wooded valley enclosed by mountains on every side but
the one through which we had entered.

Here the great live-oaks sheltered another cabin, all fur-
nished and ready for occupation, when once we dispos-

THE MOUNTAINS AT PIRU 263

sessed the mice, spiders and sundry other tenants. Potrero
Creek sprang from a bubbling spring in the valley and
formed a small pond before the cabin in which, like Barn
Swallows, the White-throated Swifts bathed; at dusk the
Poor-wills called from its shores, and at night an Owl
hooted from the oaks overhead. Its voice resembled that of
the Barred Owl but was higher and, in place of two long
notes followed by two short ones, the first and fourth notes
were long, the second and third short. I supposed it to be
the Spotted Owl, (Strix occidentalis), the only one I have
ever heard.

Arkansas Kingbirds, Ash-throated Flycatchers, West-
ern Wood Pewees, Western Flycatchers, (young leaving the
nest), Arizona Hooded Orioles, House Finches or Linnets,
Arkansas Goldfinches, Heermann’s Song Sparrows, Black-
headed Grosbeaks, Spurred and Anthony’s Towhees, Lazuli
Buntings, Western Tanagers, Hutton’s, Swainson’s and
Cassin’s Vireos, Phainopeplas, Yellow, and Black-throated
Gray Warblers, (feeding young), Vigor’s and Parkman’s
Wrens, Western Gnatcatchers and Western Bluebirds were
the common birds of the valley, and in the cafions Dotted
Canon Wrens were numerous and Rock Wrens not
infrequent.

Our stay in the Potrero was made memorable not only
by the seclusion of our camp and charm of its surroundings,
with its abounding bird-life, but by the daily sight of the
great Condors in which I was especially interested On the
afternoon of our arrival, no less than seven of the splendid
birds were in view at one time, sailing high above the moun-
tains. They were readily identified by their white under
wing-coverts; but when they were too far away, or too low
for this conspicuous character to be discerned I could not
distinguish them, with certainty, from Turkey Vultures
unless they chanced to be associated with that species, when
they could at once be known by their larger size. When the
two were seen flying together, the Condor appeared to be

264 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

more stately in its movements. It did not veer so often, or
trim its sails to the wind as the Vulture does; but, carrying
more ballast, was steadier in the air. The Condor’s tail is
evidently shorter than the Vulture’s, but in other respects
the birds looked much alike. When perched in the same
tree the Condor seemed to be fully three times larger than
its less distinguished relative.

Turkey Vultures and Burro

A burro of Whittaker’s, which chanced to die at this
time, was exposed on a hill-top overlooking the valley, with
a hope that it might attract the Condors. For three
morning I watched it from a very carefully concealed
blind, but although the Condors evidently saw the feast,
they were too wary to partake of it. I awaited some evi-
dence of their interest in the bait before going to the blind,
which was already in position; but the burro had been dead
nearly forty-eight hours before the Condors were attracted
to it. After a prolonged reconnoisance, during which if

THE MOUNTAINS AT PIRU 265

sailed low over the cabin many times, giving us an excellent
opportunity to admire its sweep of wing, a Condor finally
perched in a dead tree near the carcass. Assured that [ had
now only to hide in the blind to secure short-range studies
of it, I climbed to the hill-top; but on my appearance the
bird at once took flight and with at least two others, which
were circling overhead, disappeared. This was at 9:30 A,
M. and although I waited for six hours, it did not return.

The two following days, I entered the blind before day-
break, but the place seemed to possess no further attraction
for the Condors. That the birds are not always so shy,
however, has been emphatically shown by Mr. W. L. Fin-
ley’s studies of a pair which at this same season were
nesting near Pasadena, some fifty miles away. (The Cen-
tury, Vol. LAVYV, 1908, p. 370; The Condor, Vols. VIII, X.)

The Turkey Vultures about the Potrero were less suspi-
cious than the Condors; but to one accustomed to their semi-
domesticated condition in many of the towns of our south-
ern states, it was not a little surprising to find that here,
where they did not look to man for their food, they enter-
tained a marked fear of him.

The day after the burro’s death, about twenty Turkey
Vultures gathered in the dead tree near the animal’s body
and occasionally flew over it, but without once alighting.
The following day, when the Condors appeared, six or eight
Vultures were perched on the burro, but, with the Condor,
they flew at my approach, and not a Vulture returned that
day. Even when I had concealed myself in the blind before
they were a-wing, they showed extreme caution in coming to
the careass. The first rays of the sun touched the brown,
oak-dotted hillside at 4:50, and ten minutes later the eari.-
est Vulture was seen; but although the repast must have
been tempting, an hour anda half passed before they ven-
tured to come to it. During this period, they sailed to and
fro, eautiously inspecting the surroundings, or perched in
the dead tree near by. Nothing about the blind could pos-

266 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

sibly have alarmed them, and their actions were evidently
due to pure wariness.

One morning, just as the sun flooded the distant hills
with mellow light, a pair of pointed ears were seen erected
over the burro’s gray hide and, a moment later, a coyote’s
head appeared from below the hillerest. Coming up the
wind, his nose led him to a tempting breakfast; but mingled
with the appetizing odors was one to be feared. He licked
his lips wistfully; then discretion got the better of hunger,
and turning, he disappeared down the hill.

THE COAST AT MONTEREY

A variety of causes has made Monterey famous among
students of Pacific Coast bird-life. Monterey Bay, a broad
arm of the sea, is at certain seasons frequented by many
kinds of water birds, including such pelagic species as the
Short-tailed Albatross, Fulmars, and Shearwaters. Pond-
dotted marshes with inflowing streams, meadows, deciduous
woodlands, suggestive of a more eastern landscape, and a
forest of Monterey pines, also help to induce the presence of
a large and varied avifauna.

The pine forest is a distinctive feature of the land im-
mediately bordering the sea; in places, great dunes of
gleaming white sand being blown into the edge of the woods.

The success of this coniferous growth is due to the low
average summer temperature, occasioned by the prevalence
of fogs at that season. To the same cause may be attri-
buted the nesting here of many species which one would not
expect to find breeding at sea-level in this latitude. Among
them are forms of Steller’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri car-
bonacea) ; White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys
gambeh); Thurber’s or Sierra Junco, (Junco hyematlis
pinosus) ; Chestnut-backed Chickadee, (Penthestes rufes-
cens barlowi); a west coast representative of the Hud-
sonian Chickadee; Winter Wren, (Troglodytes hiemalis
pacificus) ; Olive-backed Thrush, (Hylocichla ustulata) and
Hermit Thrush, (Hylocichla guttata slevent.)

At Pacifie Grove, a mile beyond Monterey station, one
may hire a tent-house virtually in the pine forest, a large
tract of which is preserved by a local land company. The
student of birds with a field glass and camera, will therefore
find awaiting him an attractively situated camp and excep-
tionally favorable conditions under which to pursue his
investigations.

268 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Although the fauna was quite new to us, Louis Fuertes
and I saw some forty species of land birds in and about
these woods on May 27 and 28, 1903. All were apparently
summer resident birds except a flock of ten Cedar Wax-
wings, seen on the 28th, anda single Clarke’s Crow, satis-
factorily identified at short range on the 27th.

Among the water birds, Heermann’s, Bonaparte’s, and
Western Gulls, and Brandt’s Cormorants were the most

v

“All the quiet bodies of water contained Phalaropes ”

abundant about the rocky shores of Monterey Bay. On the
coast, we found a few Snowy Plovers and Wandering Tatt-
lers, and on May 29, a pair of Harlequin Ducks was seen by
Fuertes at Point Lobos.

We were especially interested in the Northern, and Red
Phalaropes which chanced to be abnormally abundant at
this time. When we reached Pacifie Grove, on May 20, a
record-breaking northwest wind had been blowing for more
than two weeks. It evidently had rendered navigation
impossible for the Phalaropes, and these seafarers among

THE COAST AT MONTEREY 269

the Snipe, while voyaging to their Arctic summer homes,
had encountered the gale and been standed in vast numbers.
A week later, we found many wrecks of this feathered fleet
ashore on the Farallones, where their poor, emaciated little
bodies were floating in the rock-enclosed pools left by the
tide.

Thad previously seen this bird only on the Atlantic, rest-
ing in great beds on the waters or rising in silvery, curling

ane

peemheidee’ oo oe

Phalarope Whirling

waves before the approach of our steamer. While I regret-
ted the disaster which had befallen the half-starved little
waifs, I realized that their ill luck was my good fortune, and
lost no time in availing myself of this unusual opportunity
to make the acquaintance of a bird which but few natura-
lists have met intimately.

All the quiet bodies of water contained Phalaropes, a
large pond in the city of Monterey being fairly speckled

270 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

with them. As, with several members of our American
Ornithologists’ Union party, I approached its margin, I
was not a little astonished to observe that apparently one-
half of the Phalaropes in it were spinning about in the most
remarkable manner. They might have been automatic
teetotums.

Phalarope Swimming
Note the feeding-place, just abandoned, at the left

The sight of this singular action aroused vague mem-
ories of a description of it as a courtship ceremonial. It
will be remembered that marital relations among the Phala-
ropes are somewhat unusual. Not only is the female larger
and more brightly colored than the male, but she 2s the male
in all but the prime essentials of sex. She woos, selects the
nesting site, and, while of necessity she lays the eggs, the
male, unaided, hatches them and rears the resulting family.

These facts suggest that a careful study of the mating
habits of Phalaropes will throw much needed light on the
problem of sexual selection, and, exulting at the possibilities
of the situation, I concealed myself in an overhanging limb
which swept the water. The nearest birds were now within
ten feet. The larger size and brighter plumage of the
females was strikingly noticeable and no difficulty would
therefore be experienced in determining the part in the per-
formance taken by both sexes.

At once the alleged forwardness of the female was dis-

THE COAST AT MONTEREY 271

counted by seeing quite as many males as females pirouet-
ting; while the sight of single birds, of either sex, whirling
around quite alone, cast doubt on the sexual significance of
the evolution.

Brandt’s Cormorants Gathering Grass

In short, it required only a few moments’ watching to
learn that the revolving birds were feeding. The lobed feet
were moved alternately in such a manner that the birds
spun around in the same spot, making a complete revolution
in about two seconds and from three or four to as many as
forty turns without stopping. <A rotary movement of the
shallow water was thus created, bringing to the surface
small forms of aquatic life which the Phalaropes eagerly
devoured, their slender bills darting rapidly two or three
times during each revolution. It was an interesting and, in
my experience, a novel method of securing food.

272 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Off the coast near Monterey, are a number of rocky
islets, some of which are inhabited by Brandt’s Cormorants.
An island of this character not far off shore above Cypress
Point, is one of the features of the ‘‘Seventeen Mile Drive’’.
There are similar islands at Point Lobos, about six miles
further south. We attempted to land on them on May 29,
but were prevented by the surf.

Cormorant Rocks near Point Lobos

The Cormorants were now gathering grass for their
nests, from an island almost within a stone’s throw of the
mainland. They appeared, as a rule, from the south,
alighted at the edge of the island, a cliff some thirty feet in
height, waddled awkwardly to the unclipped grass, pulled a
bill-full, waddled back to the elitf-border, threw themselves
into the air on outstretched wings and, flying toward the
north, returned to their nesting rock which was immediately
back of the one on which they were ‘‘haying’’.

THE COAST AT MONTEREY 273

Throughout the day, feathered mowers were rarely
absent from the field, sometimes as many as nine birds being
present. The denuded area from which the grass had been
removed, was as bare and as sharply-defined from that por-
tion of the crop which the Cormorants had not yet gathered,
as though it had been mowed and raked by a human harves-
ter.

On June 9,a second attempt was made to land on the
Cormorant rock here but, like the first, it failed. The birds
now had eggs.

zy fs
A a a Fi Pe

Brandt’s Cormorant

19

THE FARALLONES

Bird inhabited rocks are characteristic of the California
coast. Tourists will recall one off the Cliff House at San
Francisco, as well as the one at Cypress Point, near Mon-
terey. But, California’s famous bird islands, are the Faral-
lones, which are not only the largest in the state, but in the
Union.

To the visiting ornithologist, this avian metropolis is the
strongest attraction of our Pacific Coast. Distant only
thirty miles from San Francisco, it may be reached by tug
in three or four hours of as uncomfortable sailing as one is
likely to encounter in a life time at sea.

Excellent lodging is to be obtained with the keeper of
the Farallone Light, or his assistants, who give even the
unexpected visitor that unmistakably cordial, eager wel-
come one generally receives where guests are infrequent.

The Farallones have an extended history. Discovered by
Ferelo in 1543, they were first described by Sir Francis
Drake in 1579, and, not to mention a number of less import-
ant articles, have been the basis of papers by Emerson
(1888; 1903), Barlow (1898), Loomis (1896), and Ray
(1904). But, these descriptions, as well as verbal accounts,
and pictures had poorly prepared me to realize the beauty
of the islands and the marvel of their bird-life.

One is first impressed with the size of the islands; in
place of amere rock inhabited by birds, because it is not
habitable by man, one finds an island nearly a mile long
with an area of about 100 acres. A coast line of extreme
irregularity, set with great masses of detached rock or bor-
dering islets, and an unusually diversified surface, not only
adds to the charm and interest of the island but materially
increase its apparent dimensions.

Hills,—mountains, almost they seem,—caves, amphi-

THE FARALLONES 275

theatres, plains, ridges, crests, arches, domes and pinnacles
gives a constantly varying character to one’s surroundings.
If the Farallones were birdless, they would still compel the
enthusiastic admiration of every lover of the ruggedly pic-
turesque and elemental.

The surf completes the grandeur of the scene. Even on

The Landing-place

calm days, the ocean hurls itself with terrific force against
the unprotected rock. How it surges into the caverns, bel-
lowing from their darkened depths! How the waves charge
through the arches to meet a fellow from the other side and
bound into the air as though a mine had exploded beneath
them! How they shoot up, geyser-like, from crevices in the
rock, open below to the sea!

There is a singular, human character to the Farallone
surf; and when from the green wall of in-rushing water,

276 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

large, expressive eyes set in a great head, look one square-
ly in the face, it is easier to believe the creature the embodi-
ment of the sea than a sea-lion from the rookery on a neigh-
boring islet.

Telephoto of Murres on a Near-by Islet

Ten species of sea birds and a single species of land bird
nest upon the Farallones, but the number of individuals by
which they are represented, no one has ventured to esti-
mate.

The California Murre, is the most numerous inhabitant
of this marine aviary and about this bird centers the history
of the Farallones as egg-vielding islands.

Among San Francisco bakers, Murres’ eggs are con-
sidered an acceptable substitute for the product of the poul-
try yard, and as early as 1849, they were sold in San Fran-
cisco markets. At this period of insufficient food-supply,
they brought one dollar per dozen. In 1854, it is stated by

THE FARALLONES 277

Dr. W. O. Ayres, more than five hundred thousand eggs
were collected in the Farallones in less than two months;
but in 1896, according to L. M. Loomis, the number had
dropped to ninety-odd thousand and the price to twelve and
a half cents per dozen.

Murres

“Thousands lived in the wave-washed caverns”

Under the more systematic method of collecting, em-
ployed at the later date, the comparatively small number of
eges then secured doubtless only im part indicates the
decrease in Farallone bird-life which had occurred in forty
years. To prevent further decimation of this bird colony,
the United States Government, at the solicatation of the

278 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

American Ornithologists’ Union, has fortunately forbidden
egg-collecting on the Farallones.

When undisturbed, Murres perch on the rocks with their
dark backs toward the sea, a fact well illustrated by the
telephoto of a Murre-covered pinnacle, made at so great a
distance that the birds were not alarmed. One does not
realize at first, therefore, the astounding abundance of these
birds.

They were especially numerous on the less accessible
cliffs and pinnacles, and on the islets off-shore they were
often so thickly massed that a new comer could with difficul-
ty find a foothold. Thousands lived in the wave-washed
caverns where, when alarmed, their white breasts gleamed
like lights in the gloom; a queer little cave people, bobbing
and bowing and muttering in a tongue of thei own.

When one appeared at the entrance of their subterra-
nean home, there was arush for the outer world. Some
birds flew past one, through the air, and the wise man gave
them free passage; others flew below one, under the water,
where the action of their wings could be plainly seen.

Wards of the Government, the Farallone Murres might
be envied among birds, were it not for the presence in their
nesting resort of the Western Gull, a species closely allied
to our common Herring, or Harbor Gull.

Never have I seen more relentless, brazen, destructive
enemies of bird-life than these immaculate, snowy-breasted,
pearl-backed birds. Second in number only to the Murres,
they were especially abundant at the western end of the
island, where, when walking, a great band of cackling Gulls
always hung over one, waiting to dart down on the eggs of
Murres or Cormorants, from which the owners flew as we
approached. The nests of a large colony of Brandt’s Cor-
morants were quickly emptied of their contents in this man-
ner, the apparently famished Gulls dashing into nests
almost at one’s feet. The greenish eggs of Murres are not
so conspicuous as the white Cormorant eggs and, being laid

THE FARALLONES 279

in less exposed situations, are not always discovered by the
keen-eyed robbers. Many, however, are taken and a light-
plumaged Gull with a large, brightly-colored Murre’s egg in
his bill, dodging hither and thither in the attempt to escape
a crowd of envious comrades, forms a stirring picture of
bird-hfe. One might observe it with more satisfaction,
however, if the pursuers were of the same species as the egg.

The victimized Murre, doubtless, takes small interest in
the results of the chase. A stolen egg is irreparably lost;
prevention is the only cure; consequently when not dis-

“ys
“AN “yy ARG ~~
Sa, Om
a
StS
i Ne
EB | aly ™~ ym
~~ +>-~
——~ aa
nee
Pe, Pw
en Lame j
nar +N
yom ‘
aay
aR Poe Ye,
aim ~, ie
—y,
Se
mo ==

a ‘

“A great band of cackling Gulls always hung over one ‘

turbed by man, Murres are close sitters, one or the other of
the pair always covering the egg.

Without man to play the spaniel, the Gulls are forced to
get their booty by patient watching for che moment when
an egg may be left unguarded or, in some instances, even by

280 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

force, when they actually attempt to take the egg from be-
neath the body of the sitting bird.

All about the island, one may see these daintly-clad
creatures, Wearing pinions fit for an angel’s wings, perched
near some incubating Murre, ready to take advantage of
half a chance to snatch the egg which, for widely different
reasons, they both value so highly.

Western Gull on Nest

Whether the Gulls were always near starvation or
whether Murres’ eggs are an especially delectable dainty,
one cannot say; but, in view of the Gulls’ insatiable appetite
for fare of this kind, it was surprising to observe that they
did not prey upon their own kind. I reeall no better instance
in bird-life of ‘‘honor among thieves.’’

During the days of ‘‘egging’’ on the Farallones, the men
engaged in this questionable industry recognized the Gulls

THE FARALLONES 281

as their only rivals, and destroyed their eggs and young.
But the prevailing conditions afford protection for the
Murres and Murres’ enemies alike. Evidently even among
birds, a solicitous Government cannot extend protection
only to those who need it. Law for the Murre is law for the
Gull; and the Farallone Gulls’ Trust now enjoys a monop-
oly of Farallone egg products, which those concerned in the
passage of the law never intended it should have.

Telephoto of Brandt’s Cormorants

Notwithstanding the fact that it is most frequently rob-
bed by the Gulls, Brandt’s Cormorant is by far the most
abundant of the three species of Cormorants which breed
upon the Farallones. Building in exposed situations, it left
its nest when I was so far away that satisfactory pictures
of it could be secured only witha telephoto, and the Gulls
were given abundant opportunity to make a clean sweep of
the unguarded eggs. Both Baird’s and the Farallone Cor-

289 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

morant nested among the rocks; and both had young. The
former were usually on the face of cliffs, and being much
less shy than Brandt’s they were comparatively secure from
the ever-watchful, marauding Gulls.

Nor can one explain why the Guillemots and Puffins,
which lay their eggs in burrows or crevices in the rocks,
quite beyond the Gulls’ reach, should be so much less

Aw

Guillemots

abundant than the Murres. The Guillemot, furthermore,
lays two eges to the Murres’ one. To be less abundant than
Murres, however, if far from approaching rarity. In fact
never have I seen Guillemots so numerous as they were on
the Farallones. Groups of from ten to twenty of these
plump, so-called ‘‘Sea Pigeons’? gathered in sunny places
on the rocks, where, some reclining, some standing, they
permitted a near enough approach to enable one to see defi-

THE FARALLONES 283

nitely their greenish-black plumage, with its snowy-white
wing patches, and their coral-red feet; so often do they open
their mouths to emit a high, squealing whistle, that its coral-
red lining constitutes a by-no-means unimportant part of
their make-up.

But it is to be Tufted Puffin that the prize for originality
in costume must be awarded among Farallone birds. Par-
rot-like in appearance, he adds to the attractiveness of red
feet, a surprisingly large, bright red and yellow bill, and
from the side of each white cheek springs a streaming
plume of straw-colored feathers.

Tufted Puffins

The Puffin lives in burrows or holes under the rocks
where, if one would learn the strength of its singularly
shaped bill, one need only to insert one’s hand!

Murres, Gulls, Cormorants, Guillemots, and Puffins,
form the diurnal sea-bird life of the Farallones. But
abundant as they are, one has only to go out of doors after
dark to believe that birds are as numerous by night as they
are by day. Then, Cassin’s Auklet, Leach’s and the Ashy
Petrel come from their retreats in holes, cracks, and
crevices in the rocks and similar places. The air is filled
with their weird and elfin cries. The first night on the
island, I was awakened by a startling cream, ‘‘Come here;
come here’’, apparently at my bedside; but it proved to be

284 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

a Cassin’s Auklet, beginning
his evening hymn in his home
under the floor of my room.
The second night he seemed to
change his tune to a piercing
‘‘Let me go; let me go.’’ It
required no small amount of
self-persuasion to believe that
this unearthly sound was a
bird’s voice and consequently
interesting if not altogether
desirable.

No such effort was needed to
welcome the notes of the Rock
Wren, the one resident land
bird of the Farallones. Against
a background of the Murres’
harsh squawks and guttural
groans, of Gulls’ screams and
cackles, of Guillemots’ shrill
whistles, its mockingbird-like
song stood out with peculiar
charm and sweetness, as the
unconscious little musician
hopped calmly from rock to
rock among its strange com-
panions, apparently as much
home as though it were in the
quiet seclusion of a Sievra
canon.

Thave spoken of the Wien
as the only land bird of the
Farallones. At present, I un-
derstand this to be true; but
at the time of my visit, a pair
of Ravens lived about Arch

Cassin’s Auklet in Crevice
in the Rocks

THE FARALLONES 285

Rock where the never-failing supply of Murres’ eggs must
have induced the belief that they had indeed reached the
Seventh Heaven of ravendom.

Like the Ravens, other birds, particularly such as mi-
grate by sea, sometimes touch at the Farallones. I saw
several Black Turnstones and gain encountered wrecks of
the Phalarope fleet so many members of which had gone
ashore at Monterey.

Although so much has been written about Farallone
bird-life, Iam convinced that an unexpectedly rich reward
awaits the student, who, going to the islands in May, when
the birds come, and remaining until they depart, in August
or September, will devote himself to a study of their life
histories and relationships. The three days of my visit
(June 3-6, 1903), were barely sufficient to give that vitaliz-
ing touch of personal experience, which renders so much
more intelligible anything we may have heard concerning a
locality and stimulates our interest in its subsequent his-
tory. Moreover, at this time, the birds were less tame than
they become later in the season and could not be readily
observed and photographed.

Rock Wren

THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY AT LOS BANOS

On the afternoon of May 22, 1903, when, with Louis
Fuertes, and, H. Ward, as guide, I left Oakland for Los
Banos, great billowy cataracts of fog were pouring over the
hills about Tamalpais; but within an hour we found a dif-
ferent climate. In place of the damp, raw air of the coast,
the atmosphere was clear and dry. Instead of the densely
wooded mountains north of the Golden Gate we were short-
ly passing over level plains, through seemingly endless
fields of wheat. Such sudden and marked changes are
frequent in California.

At ten o’clock that night, we reached the village of Los
Banos, The surrounding country is comparatively arid
and large tracts have been irrigated to grow alfalfa and,
particularly, to create grazing for the cattle of the Miller
and Lux Company.

In urigating for grazing, the waters of the San Joaquin
river are used literally to flood vast areas, and the desert is
soon transformed into a series of creeks, ponds and
marshes. The desert plants are replaced by Sagittaria and
Ranunculus, tulés (Scirpus) and cat-tails, (Typha), and the
desert birds by a remarkable assemblage of water birds
whose local distribution is governed by the presence or
absence of water. On reaching Los Banos, our inquiry,
therefore, was not for birds but for water, and we directed
our steps, or to be exact, those of our horses, toward that
portion of the ranch which we learned was then being irri-
gated.

Driving over a levee, which extended as far as the eye
could see, we observed that the old and the new bird life was
separated only by the width of the dike. On the left was a
parched and sterile plain, with Horned Larks and Burrow-
ing Owls; the home also, of jack rabbits, coyotes, and rattle-

THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY 287

snakes; on the right were fertility and water, with Ducks,
Herons, Ibis, Terns, Coots, Stilts, Avocets, and other aqua-
tic species in countless numbers.

To the east, the view stretched across the desert toward
the distant Sierras where, on clear days, could be seen
the snow-fields which, eighty miles away, supplied the water
at our feet. To the west, one looked over green marshes
and shining ponds, dotted
with cattle and fairly twink-
ling with flitting wings, to
yellow fields leading up
through moulded brown
foot-hills to the blue crests
of the Coast Range.

The place combined in an
unusual way, the attractions
of both a desert and a marsh,
without the drawbacks of
either. There were no mos-
quitoes or other noxious in-
sects, no dust or thirst-creat-
ing aridity and, in spite of a
comparatively high temper-
ature, the air was dry and
invigorating. The conditions
were so favorable for mir-
age, that, after several sur-
prising experiences, we lost
confidence in every feature Burrowing Owl
of the landscape which was
beyond reach. Passing trains, at a distance of afew hun-
dred yards, appeared to be fused, shimmering bodies, travel-
ling through the air, while the most beautiful ponds and
patches of tulés and cat-tails faded at our approach.

However, our immediate surroundings were always so
interesting that we were not inconvenienced by these illus-

288 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

ions. Except upon bird islands, I have never seen birds
more abundant than they were in this desert-marsh. The
group, a photograph of which is reproduced herewith, was
based on our studies, and is by no means over-done. It is
true that one would not find all the birds it contains, in a
space twenty by eight feet, but one could frequently see
them all in a single glance, and the impression of the group
seeks to convey is therefore within the truth.

Among the species seen daily, most of them in large
numbers, were the Cinnamon Teal, Mallard, Pintail, Red-
head, Fulvous Tree Duck, Great Blue Heron, Night Heron,
American Bittern, Forster’s and the Black Tern, Coot,
White-faced Glossy Ibis, Killdeer, Avocet and Black-necked
Stilt. Twelve Wilson’s Phalaropes, a species which had
previously been recorded from west of the Sierras but once,
avere also added to our list.

Of all these birds, the Stilts, because of their abundance,
vociferousness, and remarkable actions were the most con-
spicuous and interesting. They nested on the little islands
formed by slightly elevated bits of ground, often selecting
a site which, under irrigation, subsequently became sub-
merged,—a misfortune, artificial conditions had not pre-
pared the birds to anticipate.

On May 23, their eggs were hatching, and in June the
snipe-like young were widely distributed over the marsh.
They invariably attempted to escape observation by squat-
ting with neck outstretched, but the parents, whether one
approached their eggs or young, expressed their solicitude
by a surprising extravagance of motion, all apparently
designed to draw attention to themselves. I was at times
surrounded by hopping, fluttering Stilts, all calling loudly,
waving their wings, bounding into the air to hang there with
dangling legs and beating pinions, and executing other feats
which would have done credit to acrobatic marionettes.

The Avocets were scarcely less demonstrative, but their
method of defending their eggs or young was less by the

THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY 289

strategy of actions to make themselves the centre of attrac-
tion, than by the most reckless attempts to drive the intruder
from the field. Rapidly uttering their loud plee-eek, they
charged one with a directness and apparent determination
which threatened to drive their needle-pointed bill into the
base, swerving to right or left when only afew feet away,
and repeating the performance almost immediately. They

Stilt on Nest

claimed dominion over so wide a territory and appeared so
anxious to guard it all equally, that it was difficult to locate
their nest from their actions. We found neither eggs nor
young on our first visit, but several, nearly grown young,
were taken between June 16 and 20.

Black Terns were as abundant over this submerged
desert as Swallows are over some of our eastern marshes in
August. There was nota moment when their sharp peek
could not be heard. They nested on their usual little island-
rafts, and the voung of the year were just beginning to fly

on June 16.
20

290 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Forster’s Terns were far less common than _ their
smaller, darker relatives; not more than eight or ten were
seen in a single day.

Of the Ducks, the handsome Cinnamon Teal was the
most numerous. It nested in the alfalfa fields near water,
where nests with eggs were found May 23, and also on little
grass-grown hummocks in the water, where a nest with eggs

ER RO SS a J
Newly Hatched Stilts

hatching was found June 19. The agility of these freshly
hatched ducklings was remarkable. Almost on emerging
from the egg they took to the water, swimming and diving
freely. The drake was always within a few feet of the duck,
when she was off the nest, and invariably sprang into the
air a foot or two behind her when she took wing. We made
this habit a subject of special observation without ever see-
ing the male bird fly first.

The Mallard was found with newly hatched young on
June 17, and during this week the Pintail, Redhead, and
Fulvous Tree Duck were also found nesting. The Fulvous
Tree Duck, whose unique range includes tropical America,

AOTSUIC ‘OD ‘H £q pe}JUNOU SpIIq ‘T1eI9IH ‘¢£'O Aq pozUled punoisHOVg
dnoiy, souvg soy ony

292 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Africa and India, and bespeaks for it extreme antiquity,
was seen daily. These birds combine in a singular way the
characteristics of both a Duck and a Goose. When on the
ground, their erect pose is particularly goose-like. Their
note, however, suggests that of neither Goose nor Duck, but
is a long-drawn, squealing whistle.

Coots (Mulica) were abundant wherever there was
enough water to float them, and as usual, their strongly
marked emphatic notes were most conspicuous among the
bird voices. In default of the dense growth in which they
commonly build, their nests were often placed in such expos-
ed situations that the sitting bird could be seen at a distance
of several hundred feet. The barbed wire fences which divid-
ed certain of the flooded pastures, introduced a new element
of danger into the lives of these low-flying birds, and several
individuals were found hung on the barbs.

The White-faced Glossy Ibises were of special interest
to us, but they were exceedingly shy and the absence of
cover made it difficult for us to get near enough to hear their
nasal ooh-ick-ooh-ick as they took wing. On _ several
occasions, however, we were privileged to see flocks of from
ten to forty of these usually dignified birds perform a sur-
prising evolution. In close formation, they soared skyward
in a broad, spiral, mounting higher and higher until, in this
leisurely and graceful manner, they had reached an eleva-
tion of at least 500 feet. Then, without a moment’s pause
and with thrilling speed, they dived earthward. Some times
they went together as one bird, at others each bird steered
its own course, when the air seemed full of plunging, dart-
ing, crazy Ibises. When about fifty feet from the ground,
their reckless dash was checked and, on bowed wings, they
turned abruptly and shot upward. Shortly after, like the
rush of a gust of wind, we heard the humming sound caused
by the swift passage through the air of their stiffened
pinions.

On our first visit to Los Banos, we were in the field only

THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY 293

two days, May 23 and 24th. When we returned on June 15,
to remain until the 20th, we were much disappointed to find
that places where birds had been seen most abundant in
May, were now virtually deserted.

The birds had not finished nesting, but the withdrawal of
the water had deprived them of its protection. Their nest-
ing sites were no longer islets and had possibly been raided
by coyotes. The spot, although green with the vegetation
due to irrigation, was slowly being reclaimed by the desert,
and the birds had sought new and more favorable resorts in
those portions of the marsh then being irrigated.

Evidently the abnormal and sudden rise of the water, as
well as the equally unusual fall, prevents many birds from
rearing young. Ifound numbers of flooded nests in May,
which had been built when the water was still rising, while
its disappearance must have been even more disastrous.

Great Blue Heron in Irrigation Ditch

These birds were unusually tame within the Los Banos
town limits, and could be photographed by the roadside
from a carriage in passing

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE

I went to lower Klamath Lake (June 30-July 7, 1906)
primarily to secure material for a group of White Pelicans,
which the researches of Messrs. Finley and Bohlman for
the National Association of Audubon Societies (‘‘Bird-
Lore’’, VII, 1905, p. 336) had shown to nest there abund-
antly.

This lake, which is twelve miles long by about half as
wide, is situated in the arid, northeastern part of Califor-
nia, on the Oregon boundary line. Doubtless it may now be
reached by the railroad which was expected to arrive the
year after our visit, when the charm of its isolation will
have been destroyed. But, as related in the chapter devoted
to the White Pelican, the lake itself is doomed and the rail-
road will be a fit accompaniment to the farms which will re-
place the tulés.

Our way lay up the Sacramento Valley, where twenty-
four-horse reapers were harvesting the rye; through the
strikingly picturesque Sacramento Cafion; past Mt. Shasta,
whose isolation gives it an individuality shared only with
the smaller cone at its side. Shasta reigns; its surround-
ings exist merely the better to display the grandeur of its
own proportions. Of all the mountains I have seen, Orizaba
alone excels Shasta in its power to exact homage.

At Ager we left the railway and drove twenty miles to
Beswick, arriving at midnight. There is considerable deci-
duous growth here along the shores of the Klamath River
and Shovel Creek, and birds were abundant.

From Beswick, which consists merely of a hotel to
accomodate visitors to the Klamath Hot Springs, we drove
twenty-five miles to Keno. The road follows the rushing
Klamath River through a region of much beauty, and when,
by a gradual ascent, we had reached an elevation of about

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE 295

500 feet above the river, we found the view to the south note-
worthy, even in California. At this point we entered a
primeval forest of thickly growing firs, yellow and sugar
pines and a few cedars, and having attained an altitude of
about 4300, or 2000 feet above Beswick, we began the
descent toward Keno.

The forest trees decreased in size and number as we
journeyed toward the more arid east, and several miles east
of Keno afew scattered junipers marked the limit of this
horizontal timberline.

We arrived at Keno at three o’clock and embarked on a
small steamer which, following a narrow stream through
the far-reaching tulé marshes, made the tewnty-two miles to
Klamath Falls in two hours.

This prettily situated town of several thousand inhabi-
tants was in the throes of a boom in anticipation of the
developments incident to the work of the Reclamation Ser-
vice in draining and irrigating. Good lodging was secured
with difficulty, and then through hospitable, rather than
commercial motives.

Our search for a boat in which to visit the bird islands,
distant some thirty miles, very fortunately resulted in the
discovery of a recently completed 18-foot launch with a
gasolene engine capable of driving it eight miles an hour.

At2p.m.on June 30, the day after our arrival, Hittell
and I, with Ray Telford the owner as engineer, embarked in
this launch for Lower Klamath Lake. While one would not
select this type of craft from which to observe birds, it
possesses conspicuous advantages over a canoe or rowboat
as a means of rapid and easy transportation.

We retraced a part of our course to Keno, then leaving
the main stream, turned into a narrow passage between
walls of tulés, through which we slipped at igh speed.
Black-crowned Night Herons were stationed along the
shore at short intervals waiting, as usual,, for their prey to
come within striking distance, but on one occasion, Jumping

296 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

into the water and resting there for a second before taking
wing. There were also a few Western Grebes, a Bufflehead
Duck, in full adulé male plumage, but which, nevertheless,
had lost its flight feathers, and a family of Wild Geese,
(Branta canadensis subsp.), with fully grown young. Later,
I saw an adult of this species which, like the Bufflehead, had
molted its wing-quills, and could only flap over the water.

i

Wild Goose
The bird had molted its wing feathers and could not fly
Late in the afternoon, we suddenly emerged from the
tulés into the lake. We now looked out over a broad expanse
of water, but everywhere the view was bounded by tulés; in
no place was the land visible at the water’s edge.

Doubtless it is due to this apparent shorelessness, to the
luminous atmosphere of a desert lake, to the strange cloud
forms, and to the peculiar configuration of its treesless vol-
eanic hills, that Klamath Lake owes its singular, unearthly
beauty.

Possibly the mental effect of the lake’s unusual sur-
roundings was increased by the dramatic manner in which
they were so unexpectedly revealed. But even on subse-
quent visits, when we were prepard for the lake’s appear-
ance, it still impressed us as belonging to another world.

But even more than the charms of the lake itself, of cloud
effects and sunsets which no man could describe and no

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE 297

artist dare paint, of birds in vast numbers, it was the views
of Mt. Shasta which made our days there memorable.
Although forty miles away, Shasta seen across the sea of
tulés as an effective foreground, rose with surprising
grandeur. Gleaming white it swept in graceful lines up-
ward, and still upward, so far above any other visible earth-
ly thing, so peaceful, so majestic, so supreme, that it domin-
ated the landscape like an embodiment of godliness. Now it
was rose-tinged with coming day; now startling in the clear-
ness of morning; now hazy and cloud-wreathed in the after-
noon; now soft and luminous in the afterglow of evening;
but always it was inspiring.

Attracted by a flock of White Pelicans in the north-
eastern part of the lake, we steered toward them only to find
that they were roosting, not nesting,. Thence we skirted the
tulés on the eastern side of the lake, and, at sunset, attemp-
ted to land for the night, but it was dark before we found a
place where we could penetrate the margin of tulés, which
was often a mile or more in width. Fortunately we were
near the only cabin we saw on the lake, and from its owner
we secured enough wood for a fire on which to boil our
coffee.

With no guide to direct us, we had unconsciously gone as
far from the bird islands as it was possible to do, and it was
not until the afternoon of the next day that they were found.
After a superficial view of the surprising number of bird
colonies occupying them, we ran the launch to the home of a
man named IKellear who had taken up a homestead on an
island hill in the sea of tulés between the lake and Keno,
about eight miles from the bird rookeries. Here we found
excellent water, wood, and a comfortable straw bed in the
cowyard, and here we established our headquarters.

The bird islands of Lower Klamath Lake are as unusual!
as the lake itself. In place of rocky reefs, sandy bars, or
erass-grown mud-flats, they are composed solely of tulés
which, about their borders, are matted into thick beds of

998 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

dead stalks, on which the birds nest. Some contain many
acres, others less than an acre; but large or small, all fur-
nish the essential requisite of insular isolation, and all
illustrate better than any other bird islands with which I am
familiar, the attraction of an island home for communal,
ground-nesting birds.

“Low lying, snaky Cormorants ”

The White Pelicans find here no pebbles with which to
build their little mound-nests; the Caspian Terns do with-
out sand; the Cormorants without rocks; all must nest
under exactly the same conditions; even the Great Blue
Herons, in default of trees, built their platform nests of
tulés in the tulés.

I do not know how many islands were inhabited by birds,
but I counted fifteen on which Pelicans were nesting, and
there were at least a dozen more with Ring-billed and Cali-
fornia Gulls, Caspian Terns, Farallone Cormorants, and
Great Blue Herons. In most instances the birds nested near
the water and were therefore easily visible.

Most of the islands were separated by only narrow chan-
nels, the canals in this Venice of bird cities, through which

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE 999

passed dark, low-lying, snaky Cormorants; dainty pearl-
plumaged Gulls, riding high and bouyantly, or fluttering
anxiously over their venturesome young; stately, snowy
Pelicans like full-rigged ships; Ducks with their little fleet
of downlings, or Western Grebes carrying their chicks on
their backs.

Overhead lines of Pelicans came sailing home, bearing
eargo for their young, and clamorous flocks of Gulls rose
suddenly, to continue in the air some dispute begun in the
reeds, to which, shortly, they all returned.

These Gulls appeared to be equally divided among the
California and Ring-billed species. They were the most
abundant birds in the rookery and nested on nearly every
island. Some nests were in close proximity to those of the
Pelicans and Cormorants, but none were seen near those of
the Caspian Terns. The greater number, however, were
some distance from the shore, where the tulés were still up-
right in the tangle of the preceding years’ growth. Such
places were infested with young Gulls, clad in mottled gray
down, which ran back into the denser growth or tucked
themselves into interstices in the reeds where they were
easily overlooked. It was not until I entered the blind and
the returning parents called their young from their hiding-
places, that I became aware of their abundance. The place
was overrun with them.

As the old birds, one after the other, dropped down to
the reeds about the blind, the noise and confusion was be-
wildering. The young birds apparently claimed parentage
of any old one, but when in error, were promptly disowned
with far from tender nips, treatment which, if they saw it,
the real parents promptly resented. Then followed a battle
of wings and voices which was quickly settled with some-
times loss of feathers but never of blood.

I have listened for hours to the calls of Gulls without
divining their significance. These birds, in common with
other members of their genus, threw their heads upward like

300 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

baying dogs while uttering a loud, emphatic ki-ki-ki-ka,
and when hovering over the rookery chattered ka-ka-ka-ka
more rapidly than human tongue could enuciate the sylla-
bles. At times, when swimming, they jerked out the single
syllable go, with such force that the head was thrown for-
ward and the bill entered the water; but I could attach no
meaning to any of these calls. The note of the young birds
was a shrill, squealing whistle.

“The old birds, one after the other, dropped down into the reeds”

The Caspian Terns, of which there were but about 300,
all in one colony, occupied a point of an island where they
were associated only with Cormorants. The Gulls built nests
of the tulé stalks, but the Terns laid their eggs in depres-
sions in the fallen, matted reeds of silt which, near the
water, sometimes covered them. Most of the eggs had
hatched and, as I landed, the downy young scurried into the
reed forest which bordered the open space along the shore.

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE 301

Although the blind was erected with no attempt at con-
cealment, the adults, all screaming, came back in a body al-
most as soon as [ had disappeared within it, and I shortly
experienced the satisfaction of being surrounded by this, the
largest and, in North America at least, one of the rarest
members of its genus. All wore the shining black cap with
elongated crest feathers, and had the bright coral red bill of
the nuptial season.

Caspian Terns

As, with gracefully uplifted wings, the daintily plum-
aged birds alighted, the young, doubtless in response to
their calls, ran out from the reeds and then ensued the usual
squabbling until the chicks, finding their own parents, were
snugly nestled under the silky white breasts. On these oc-
casions they sometimes fought three-cornered duels, but as
the sex of the contestants was unknown, I could not surmise
the meaning of the struggle.

Like the young of the Common Tern and doubtless also
of the other members of this subfamily, the young Caspian

302 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Terns swam easily, taking to the water when cut off from
the reeds, but the adults were not seen to alight on the
water.

Having heretofore failed to establish intimate relations
with that fine bird, the Western Grebe, I had anticipated an
opportunity to observe it here, where, according to the re-
port of Finley and Bohlman, it had nested abundantly the

“Surrounded by .... the rarest members of its genus”

preceding year. We found, however, only one occupied nest,
and saw comparatively few birds; but we did find numerous
Grebes’ bodies, from which the breast had been stripped.
The cause of their death was revealed one morning when
we found a ruddy-cheeked, white-bearded old hunter in the
rookery. Resting quietly in his skiff, gun in hand, he
promptly potted every Grebe which was unfortunate
enough to rise within range. He had only five birds in his

LOWER KLAMATH LAKE 303

boat; but his work was nearly finished; the rookery had
been ‘* shot out.’’

Living in a house-boat hidden somewhere in tulés, this
degenerate representative of the pioneer trapper seemed
far from the world of millinery adornment, but no stock-
broker kept his eye on the ‘‘ tape ’’ more keenly than he did
on the quotation of the New York feather market, with
which the dealers regularly supplied him, and the moment
the figures promised a profit, he took to the field.

Young Great Blue Herons

It appeared that for several preceding seasons Grebes’
breasts had brought only fifteen cents each, and at this price
the birds were not worth killing. Hence their abundance
during the visit of Finley and Bohlman. In the meantime,
the demands of fashion had advanced the price to fifty cents
per breast, a sum sufficient to tempt the hunter, and in a few
weeks he had wiped out the increase of years.

He was a pleasant-eyed old fellow, and there was some-

304 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

thing about him to which the hunter in me responded. Big
game and fur-bearing animals quickly disappear before the
advance of civilization, but human nature does not change
so readily.

The fact that there were no buffalos to kill or beavers to
trap, did not prevent this man from being a hunter, and in
default of larger quarry he shot Ducks and Grebes and
trapped minks, making enough to live in the isolation which
his nature called for.

The fact that my ‘‘ specimens ’’ were designed for a
museum, and his ‘‘ skins’? fora milliner’s shop did not
seem to him to create any special difference in our calling
and, believing that we were both plying the same trade, he
freely discussed its various aspects and offered me much
advice as to the best manner in which to kill Grebes.

Pelicans, he believed, should be protected by law because
they ate the dead fish which at that time dotted the lake in
hundreds. But on Cormorants,—‘‘ Shags ”’ he called them
—there ought to be a bounty because they ate only live fish.
As for Grebes, they were no good one way or the other, ex-
cept to kill, and if I had advanced esthetic reasons for the
preservation of these marvellously graceful witches of the
water, | should probably have spoken in a foreign tongue.
Perhaps it will be time enough to turn our attention to the
esthetic education of the hunter when we have convinced
the wearer of the borrowed plumes of her moral responsi-
bilities in this matter of bird destruction.

So much easier is it to collect material things than facts,
that before I had even made the acquaintance of Klamath
Lake birds I had secured the specimens, accessories and
photographs on which to base our proposed group. Mr. Hit-
tell had completed his sketches, and with a study of its bird-
life only just begun, I left this region of enchantment.

THE SIERRAS

My experience in the Sierras is limited to a few days
(June 24-July 5, 1903; June 8-10, 1906), passed at Price’s
camp in Glen Alpine and on Fallen Leaf Lake near Lake
Tahoe, and a short trip from this point over the Tahoe-Pla-
cerville stage route to Silver Creek. Brief as was the time,
it was more than sufficient to impress me with the manifold
attractions of this region for the nature-lover. At this sea-
son rain is infrequent and the camper, with tent or without,
may hunt the world over fora more ideal climate or more
delightful surroundings.

The country about Tahoe offers a most inviting field to
the ornithologist. It is accessible and diversified; primeval
forests, marshes, and snow-capped peaks being in close
proximity; and as long as William Price and Walter Fisher
maintain their camp on Fallen Leaf Lake, the visiting nat-
uralist will be assured a congenial home and efficient
co-operation.

With two other members of the American Ornithologists’
Union’s transcontinental party of 1903, I left San Francisco
the morning of June 23, and reached Tahoe Inn in the eve-
ning. Awakened by the emphatic come-right-here of the
Olive-sided Flycatcher, I arose for an early view of Tahoe,
its encircling mountains and forests, and found as well, a
male Hermit Warbler, and a nest of a Mountain Chickadee
which evidently contained young. On comparing notes at
breakfast, I learned that both of my companions had inde-
pendently found the same nest, though itis doubtful if an-
other guest of the hotel knew of its existence. I was remind-
ed of Thoreau’s arrowhead.

I know of no lake in this country comparable with Tahoe.

In size, in the intense blue of its surprisingly clear waters,
21

306 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

in its setting of great conifers and snow-ridged mountains
it stands, in my experience, preéminent.

The morning we sailed for Tallac was absolutely calm
and, as the steamer glided over the mirror-like surface of
the lake, the bottom could be seen at astonishing depths. But
when, some days later, we returned, a sixty-mile-an-hour
gale created a sea which played havoc with most of the pas-
sengers and forced the one hundred and twenty-five foot
steamer to abandon part of her route.

At Tallae, White-crowned Sparrows sang plaintively in
the pines near the hotel, and Juncos trilled and twittered in
the shrubbery. Later, I saw near Tallac a single American
Magpie, (Pica pica hudsonia), ornithological evidence that
I was on the eastern slope of the Sierras. Here one takes a
stage for the five-mile ride through the woods around the
border of Fallen Leaf Lake, to Price’s Camp, at an altitude
of about 6,300 feet.

From this point, there are a score or more of mountain
lakes to be reached within a few hours. Mt. Tallac, snow-
capped, towers overhead, and Glen Alpine, with its fine
trees, dashing stream and water-falls, lies at the back of the
camp.

The vicinity of the camp itself is as favorable a place for
bird study as one could ask for. Thick-billed Fox Spar-
rows, (Passerella iliaca megarhyncha), were here the most
conspicuous singing birds, and one could not ask for a more
musical, cheerful songster. The loud, single whistle of the
Mountail Quail was a distinctly new note, strikingly unlike
the sit-right-down of the Valley Quail. The birds called
from the dense conifers and were exceedingly difficult to
see. When alarmed, they carried their long crest feathers
erect, a singular ornament, but one which was quite in keep-
ing with their graceful alertness.

Green-tailed Towhees, with their mewing call and bright
song; Western Tanagers (Piranga ludoviciana), uttering
their clean cut clit-tuck and unmistakably tanagrine chant;

The Forest in Glen Alpine

308 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

Ruby-crowned Kinglets, the most gifted of small feathered
vocalists; trilling Juncos, Calaveras,.Audubon’s, Pileolated,
and Macgillivray’s. Warblers were the birds whose voices
were most prominent.

Several times I saw Solitaires perched silent and pen-
sive, and about the falls in the Glen, active Water Ousels
were sometimes seen, but thei song season was over.

A nest of Blue Grouse, (Dendragapus fuliginosus sier-
re), with broken egg-shells, from which the chicks had only
recently emerged, was found, June 30, well up the Glen and,
on one occasion, a bird of this species was heard to utter its
hollow, ventriloquial boom.

Blue-fronted Jays were among the common forest birds
and oceasionally Clarke’s Crows crossed the Glen from
tree-top to tree-top to disappear up the mountain side.

The Woodpeckers of this region are of great interest
and will afford the eastern ornithologist some brand new
sensations in bird-life. In addition to the Red-shafted
Flicker and the western form of the Hairy Woodpecker, I
observed the blaekbird-like Lewis’s Woodpecker in the
woods about Tallac. More generally distributed were the
quaintly plumaged White-headed Woodpecker, and the Red-
breasted Sapsucker, while, on the surrounding mountains,
the beautiful Williamson’s Sapsucker was not uncommon, a
nest, containing young, being found in a dead tree on July 2.

All the species mentioned were seen between June 24 and
July 5, 1903. When I visited the camp from June 8 to 10,
1906, the Glen had not yet shaken off the grip of winter.
Snow-slides, ten feet deep, blocked the trail and along their
edges, snow-flowers, like little torches, blossomed. The wil-
lows and alders were blooming, White-crowned and Fox
Sparrows, Olive-sided Flyeatchers, Mountain Quail and
Chickadees, were singing, but the Warblers had not yet
come up from the lower altitudes.

On June 30, I crossed the mountains on horseback at
Angora Lake and struck the Tahoe-Placerville stage-route

THE SIERRAS 309

to the south, following it over the divide and down the west-
ern slope as far as Georgetown Junction, which may have
deserved this designation when this route was the main
highway into middle California, but which exists now only
as aname. Here, I left the road for a trail, used by dairymen
in bringing their herds from the parched valleys to the flow-

Camp on Silver Creek

er-filled alpine meadows, and climbed the steep grade
through the forests to Silver Creek, where a junction was
made with Price, Louis Fuertes and other members of our
Glen Alpine camp, who had struck directly across the moun-
tains, ascending Pyramid Peak by the way.

Here is a trip through a region filled with associations of
California’s early history, in which primitive means of
transportation still exist, but through which, nevertheless, a
journey may be made in perfect comfort, with opportunity
to stop at inns situated amid the wildest and most pictur-
esque surroundings. Reaching Tallac the journey may be

310 CALIFORNIA BIRD STUDIES

continued by steamer across Lake Tahoe, and the railway
reached at Truckee. I commend it with enthusiasm to the
nature-loving tourist.

We camped beneath the spruces, at an elevation of 7000
feet, and from this base ascended to still higher woods,
where great snow banks lay in the shade of the trees.

The season was less advanced here than in Glen Alpine.
Hermit Thrushes, (Hylocichla guttata sequoiensis), were
singing divinely, and on several occasions I heard the ecs-
tatic, highly musical outburst of the Solitaire. It is wholly
unlike the songs of the Mexican Solitaires, (Myiadestes uni-
color and M. obscurus), but strongly suggests the rapid
flight song of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak.

We were now fairly in the the Boreal Zone. Linecoln’s
Sparrows sang from the alders bordering the snow-fed
brooks, Canadian Nuthatches trumpeted nasally from the
pines, while Pine Grosbeaks, (Pinicola enucleator caliform-
ca) and Evening Grosbeaks, (Coccothraustes vespertinus
montanus), furnished even more impressive evidence of the
boreal character of our faunal position. Still, less than fif-
ty miles away, on the warm, western Sierran foot-hills, I
had seen orange groves.

The nights were cool at Silver Creek, and rolled in our
blankets, we sought close companionship with the camp fire.

Doubtless it was to the sense of friendliness and good
cheer, born of a certain atmospheric hospitality which char-
acterizes Sierra summers; to the tonic of mountain air; to
the melody of the Hermit Thrush and joyous carol of the
Solitaire; to the singing of a thousand streams on their way
to the sea; to a hundred subtle, potent causes, that I may at-
tribute the physical exhilaration and spiritual exaltation
which I experienced in the Sierras.

Enter California through the deserts that form its south-
ern boundaries, but leave it, if leave it you must, through
the passes of these majestic mountains. You may go out
from their shadow but never from under their influence.

PART VII.

BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

THE PRAIRIES
THE PLAINS
THE MOUNTAINS
THE WHITE PELICAN

(Psg ‘d 90s) UPMoYoO]VYseg ‘oyeT YONG SIq uO suvOIIOg OMUM

BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA
INTRODUCTORY

The wild-fowl which, twenty years ago, were so abund-
ant in our northwestern boundary states, to-day character-
ize the sloughs and lakes of the adjoining Canadian Prov-
inces. Ina short time, most of them will have retreated to
the still more remote north, eventually, to be foreed beyond
the parallel profitably habitable by the ranchmen. Crowded
at the best, within comparatively small areas, by reason of
their aquatic habits, the nature of their haunts makes
them particularly susceptible to those changes in environ-
ment which man, the settler, directly or indirectly occasions.

Shooting, the grazing of herds of sheep and cattle, which
destroy cover or tread on nests, and especially the draining
and tilling of land, are the chief factors in reducing the
numbers of these ground-nesting birds, which, in brief, are
quickly routed by civilization. Where, therefore, the map is
dotted with towns and lined with railways, they can con-
tinue to breed only on islets and, even then, require special
protection.

It was my valued privilege to have at least a glimpse of
this wild-fowl life, in June, 1901, at Shoal Lake, Manitoba,
and in June, 1907, near Maple Creek, Saskatchewan. On
both occasions my time was largely occupied by the require-
ments of special collecting, but nevertheless, observations
were made which seem worth recording. They are, there-
fore, presented as a contribution to the ornithology of a re-
gion whose bird-life is so rapidly yielding to the pressure of
new conditions, that apparently it will soon be as devoid of
nesting wild-fowl as are our northern border states, unless
the Canadian Government, profiting by our experience,
takes immediate steps to protect its birds during the breed-
ing season.

314 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

That laws prohibiting the killing of wild-fow] at this sea-
son, and the destruction of their nests and eggs, have been
passed and are enforced is not enough. The draining of
sloughs and raising of cattle cannot be treated as violations
of the game-laws and still both may be more destructive
than many men with guns. A more effective form of pro-
tection is needed and this can best be secured by the creation
of reservations or bird refuges. If it seems impracticable
because of their value to the stock raiser, to set aside
sloughs and lake borders for this purpose, no good reason
appears to exist for refusing to give the birds title, for all
time, to the islets and ‘‘reefs’’ which are found in many of
the lakes of this region. These islets are rarely if ever of
value to the ranchman, and they already are of infinite value
to the birds. Protected by water from their natural ene-
mies, many birds are wholly restricted to them in the nest-
ing season, and with a wise treatment of this question by
the Canadian Government, they would become the wild-fowl
nurseries of western Canada.

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Double-crested Cormorants

THE PRAIRIES

The west-bound naturalist, who, from a Canadian Pacific
car-window, has been oppressed by the dearth of life in the
country north of the Great Lakes, welcomes the change from
this desolate region to the poplar-dotted prairies of Manito-
ba with their teeming bird-life. Once west of Winnipeg, and
even in the ditches made by grading the track-bed—if they
be not too near a settlement—Grebes, Coots, and Ducks of
various species, may be seen leading broods of young; and
when the road passes a reed-bordered lake, or slough, the
place seems alive with these birds, Bitterns, Yellow-headed
and Red-winged Blackbirds, Black Terns and Franklin’s
Gulls. I recall no railway journey on which more birds may
be seen from the train; and consequently none which
arouses in the arriving ornithologist a higher degree of en-
thusiastic expectation.

On June 13, 1901, just after passing through a bird com-
munity of this kind, Mrs. Chapman and I left the Canadian
Pacific train at Marquette, a station on the prairies, thirty
miles west of Winnipeg, bound for Shoal Lake, eighteen
miles to the north. Conveyance was eventually secured
from a neighboring ranch and the drive was notable chiefly
for the numbers of Black Terns which, swallow-like circled
about the wagon, feeding on the insects we flushed from the
grass.

We pitched our tent as near the southern end of the lake
as the marshy nature of the ground would permit, and not
far from the cabin of an Englishman whose attractive half-
breed wife prepared our meals. He acted occasionally as
our guide; devoting himself between trips to Burton’s
‘“* Anatomy of Melancholy ’’ and a cabimet organ which he
played with exceptional taste.

To avoid custom-house and transportation difficulties,

316 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

we had waited until arriving at Winnipeg, where satisfac-
tory outfits may be hired, before securing our camp equip-
ment. ten by twelve wall tent was our main shelter, while
a seven by seven wedge tent was used as a work-room and
for short trips. The frequent, heavy thunder showers kept
the thick prairie turf saturated with water and induced us

Camp at Shoal Lake

to floor roughly the larger tent with such boards as our
guide could spare from his cabin. Throughout June a camp
stove was by no means a luxury, and each evening, a cover
having been placed on the chimney-top, a fire, smudged with
green poplar leaves, was made, to clear the tent of mosqui-
toes. These insects were so numerous as to interfere with
field-work on the prairie and lake border during the day,
while the hum of their united voices about our tent at night,
resembled the sound of steam escaping from an engine.
Fortunately they were not found on the lake, nor even in
the quill-reeds.

Probably no one but an ornithologist would have selec-
ted our camp-site, but even had the country been birdless it
would have had attractions of its own. There was the in-
spiring breadth of the prairie view; there were the endless

THE PRAIRIES 317

reed forests with just a strip of blue water appearing over
their tops; there were the prairie flowers—roses, lilies,
harebells, anemones and many others—some of which we
transplanted in their thick bit of turf to form a garden at
our tent door; and in preparation for the almost daily
thunder storms, there were cloud effects such as [ have
never seen exceeded elsewhere.

Shoal Lake, first made known to. ornithologists by
Donald Gunn in 1868, is some thirty miles long with an
average width of ten miles in its southern third, and of
about three miles in its northern two-thirds. Its shores, for
the greater part, are widely margined with densely growing
quill reeds, which attain a height of from six to eight feet
above the water. Where the fringe of reeds is a mile or
more in width, the shore of the lake can be reached only by
following the narrow water ways that wind through them.

The northern end of Shoal Lake is thickly wooded with
poplar, but I saw little of this region, my work being in the
main confined to the vicinity of our eamp where the abund-
ance of bird-life left time only for trips to the islands in the
lake. Here the country is more open, wide stretches of fer-
tile prairie with its rich growth of grasses, being dotted
with groves of small poplars.

In the slightly lower ground, bordering the line of reeds
which marked the edge of the lake, the grasses were denser
and there were occasional small sloughs. So flat is the coun-
try that from the higher ground near our camp, the water of
the lake was barely visible over the tops of the reeds.

Well out in the lake are a number of small islands. In
some instances, they are formed of a only few great rocks
with a beach of pebbles when they are known locally as
“‘reefs.’’ Such islands were inhabited by Double-crested
morants, California Gulls, Common Terns, and one helda
small group of White Pelicans, as described in the chapter
devoted to that species.

Other and larger islands were grown with grasses, reeds,

318 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

and rose bushes, which invariably held the nests of Ducks;
Spoonbills, Baldpates, Mallards, Pintails, and Blue-winged
Teal being the common species, while one nest of White-
winged Scoter was found. Birds were exceedingly abund-
ant in the reed forests of the lake, the more characteristic
species being Coots (Fulica), Western Grebes and Frank-
lin’s Gulls, nesting in colonies, Black Terns, Black-crowned
Night Herons, American Bitterns, Yellow-headed and Red-
winged Blackbirds, and Long-billed Marsh Wrens.

About the marshy border of the lake, Soras, Wilson’s
Phalaropes, Blue-winged Teal, Nelson’s Sparrows and
Short-billed Marsh Wrens were the commoner birds; while
the characteristic prairie species were Bartram’s Sandpi-
pers, Killdeer, Nighthawks, Western Meadowlarks, Prairie
Horned Larks, Bobolinks, Cowbirds, Vesper, Savanna and
Clay-colored Sparrows.

The lake and its shores claimed the greater part of my
time and but little attention was devoted to the poplars,
where the birds observed most commonly were Crows,
Kingbirds, Baltimore Orioles, Bronzed Grackles, Warbling
Vireos, Yellow Warblers, Catbirds, Veerys and Robins.

The location of our camp by the side of a grove of pop-
lars and near the junction of prairie and marshy lake bor-
der, brought us within sight or sound of nearly all the birds
just mentioned. The days are long in this latitude and at
half-past three each morning, we were awakened by a group
of Yellow-headed Blackbirds which selected our poplar
grove for the delivery of their matutinal chorus. If result
were commensurate with effort, the Yellow-head would be a
world-famed songster; but something besides unbounded
ambition and limitless muscular exertion is required to pro-
duce music. In vain the Yellow-head expands his lungs and
throws out his chest, his wide-spread tail testifying to the
earnestness of his endeavor; sound he produces in volume,
but surely such a series of strained, harsh, calls, whistles,
like escaping steam, grunts, groans and pig-like squeals

THE PRAIRIES 319

never before did duty as a song! In his youth he does far bet-
ter, the note of the young bird being a wooden-rolling call
as different from the voice of the parent as is that ofa
young Baltimore Oriole. Before the effect of novelty was
lost, the yellow-headed serenaders returned to the reeds and
the dominant bird song about our camp for the rest of the
day was that of the Western Meadowlark.

In the poplars,
the Warbling Vireo
was the song leader,
the little double-
toned roll going off
at intervals, the time
of which was regu-
lated by the reply of
a rival singer in a

Female Warbling Vireo
Incubating
neighboring grove.
From crowing Cocks
to Vireos, nothing
so stimulates song
as song. Even
when on the nest,
while his mate was

Male Warbling Vireo Singing on Nest feeding, a Vireo

near our tent could

not refuse the song challenge; a habit which guided me to
his home.

Unlike the Yellow-headed Blackbird, the Bronzed

Grackle appears to appreciate his imitations as a vocalist

and makes small effort in that direction. Nevertheless these

320 BIRD-LIVE IN WESTERN CANADA

birds were sufficiently common to make their notes a not in-
conspicuous part of the chorus of bird voices. I spent much
time in futile search of a Grackle’s nest which the actions of
the birds indicated was in the grove at our camp; eventually
it was discovered on the ground, among the poplar sprouts,
within sixty feet of the tent. With the aid of an umbrella
blind, it was possible to observe, at close range, these birds
feeding their family of four. The returning parent was in-
variably greeted by four mouths spread wide in mute ap-
peal for food, and apparently the nearest bird was fed first.
But by that nice adjustment of the nervous system which,
as Professor Herrick has shown, prevents a young bird
from receiving an undue share of food, there was no
‘¢ swallowing response ’’ from the mouth of the well-fed
youngster and the parent acting on this hint, removed the
food, and tried another applicant.

The sharp peek of passing Black Terns was a frequent
note. The feeding habits of these birds and of Franklin’s
Gulls is a strange sight to the eastern bird student, whom
experience has taught to associate members of this family
with bays and sandy beaches.

From our tent door in the early morning I sometimes
found the surrounding prairie thickly dotted with Frank-
lin’s Gulls actively hunting grasshoppers, the birds at the
rear constantly arising to take the lead, only to lose it to
those that followed. Itis anovel sight also, to see these
beautiful birds following the plough to secure the grubs ex-
posed in the lengthening furrow, with their white and pearl
plumage gleaming against the fresh black prairie soil. The
Black Terns, which often take part in the hunt, appear to
feed exclusively on insects, and it is only when the high
winds set the prairie grasses rolling in long billows and
the Terns gliding low, gather insects from the grassy crests,
that one is reminded of their relationship to birds of the sea.

From the sloughs came the whinny of Soras and boom-
ing of Bitterns, and from the great quill reed jungles such a

THE PRAIRIES 321

babel of bird notes that one could imagine all the birds of
the lake were in convention there. The Coots were responsi-
ble for much of this noise, but the yellow-heads were not far
behind them, while the loud grating whistle of the Western
Grebe, the sonorous kow-kowing of the Pied-billed Grebe,
and other weird, unidentified calls, produced an indescriba-
ble and altogether delightful ensemble.

Although there was no marked, sultry, noonday period
and birds could be seen in numbers from daylight to dark,
comparative quiet reigned in the reeds during the day; but
toward sunset the convention reassembled, to resume the
morning’s discussion in a session which lasted until ten
o’clock. The birds’ day was therefore between eighteen and
nineteen hours in length. Grackles were seen feeding their
young as late as half-past nine, and one asks whether the
greater amount of food consumed per day does not increase
the rapidity of the young bird’s growth and shorten its stay
in the nest.

A walk of fifty yards from our tent toward the lake,
which was distant about three hundred yards, brought one
into the taller grasses of the slightly lower ground. This
was the home of Wilson’s Phalarope, a new bird to me and
one which, because of its peculiar marital customs, I observ-
ed with no little interest. On my appearance, one or two of
these birds invariably flew about me with a slow, jerky, halt-
ing flight and sinuous movement of the neck, as it uttered a
soft quok. Usually the female took the lead, the male fol-
lowing. This pair of birds, I believe, had young hiding in
the dense grasses, but on June 15, I found a nest with four
eggs, which on the 19th were within a few days of hatching.
The male, as usual, incubated, unaided, but it was evident
that the female had a keen interest in the welfare of her
home, in spite of her unmaternal habits, and on every occa-
sion when the male was flushed from the eggs and fluttered
off over the grass, he was joined by his mate who showed

her interest by flying anxiously about me. These females,
22

322 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

therefore, are by no means such gay and irresponsible
grass widows as they have been said to be. While they take
no part in the duties of incubation they nevertheless are
clearly concerned with its results, appearing in defense of
their household when circumstances require their presence.
They are exquisite creatures and when swimming high in

Blue-winged Teal’s Nest
The eggs were covered by the bird when leaving the nest

the water with dainty nodding motion of the head, present
as pleasing a picture of bird-life as beauty of plume and
grace of motion can combine to produce.

The high grasses in which the Phalaropes nested, evi-
ently held also the home of that singularly distributed bird,
Nelson’s Sparrow, whose little guttural trill was a common
note, but in spite of much anxious chirping on their part and
much searching on mine, the birds succeeded in keeping
their secret.

THE PRAIRIES 323

Blue-winged Teal also nested here, and one of the dis-
tinctive experiences of bird study in this region, is the flush-
ing of wild Dueks which, with a truly surprising flutter,
tumble from their nest at your feet, invariably speeding
your circulation with a bound. Under these conditions,
there is no time for that careful and complete covering of

Blue-winged Teal’s Nest
The downy covering raised to show the eggs

the eggs with a downy blanket, which precedes the more de-
liberate departure from the nest, for feeding.

Admirably as the incubating Duck, feigning to be wound-
ed, attempts to draw you from her nest, the performance
is not even a poor mnitation of her actions when she wishes
to cover the retreat of her brood. A Mallard one day gave
an excellent exhibition of this habit. At her first call of
alarm the young birds scattered widely, no two, apparently,

324 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

going the same way, and when she had finished directing
their movements, she came herself boldly from the reeds to
hold my attention by the most elaborate demonstrations of
helplessness.

A pair of Black Terns which were nesting in a small
reed-grown slough near our camp, showed an even more

Black Tern Incubating

remarkable control over their downy young, but adopted a
less strategic method of protecting them.

The nest was discovered, on June 16, on a small knob of
mud and water-soaked vegetation which had been selected
as a foundation for the nest of coarse reeds. At this time it
contained one egg. On June 18 a second egg was laid and,
without waiting for the usual complement of three, ineuba-
tion was begun. At no time during this remarkable period
of a bird’s year did the Terns fail to resent intrusion on

THE PRAIRIES 325

their haunts. The Blue-winged Teal and Wilson’s Phala-
rope nesting in the long grasses on the border of the slough,
fluttered from their eggs only when one seemed about to
step upon them, but the Terns sprang into the air and, with
sharp screams, came to meet me when I was thirty yards
away.

On June 25, there oecurred an unusually heavy fall of
rain, raising the water in the slough several inches and
threatening to inundate the little island. But the Terns
saved their eggs from the flood by bringing fresh nesting
material and raising the height of their home; though,
whether the action was performed with a definite object or
was merely such a display of nest-building instinct as is not
infrequently seen during incubation, it is difficult to de-
termine.

On July 5, after an incubation period, therefore, of sev-
enteen days, the first egg was hatched. Three days later,
with Ernest Seton, who had joined us on the 3d, I visited
the nest, expecting to see a pair of downy young but, to our
surprise and disappointment, it was deserted. Evidently,
however, there was something not far away in which the
Terns were greatly concerned. With piercing screams they
darted at us, once actually hitting Seton’s hat.

Search failing to reveal any sign of the young birds, the
camera was left to play detective. Focusing it on the empty
nest and surrounding it with ecat-tails, we attached some
seventy feet of tubing and retired to the high grasses of a
neighboring dry bank. But we were not hidden from the
Tern. She hovered over us, shrieking her disgust with
scarcely a pause, turning her long beak to this side and that,
as she brought each eye in turn to bear. Finally her craiks
erew softer, and, fluttering over the nest, she uttered a soft
wheent-wheent-wheent, which probably meant to her chicks
“«Tt’s all right; come back home now.’’ After half a minute
of this calling, she fluttered lower and dropped out of sight
behind the reed barriers.

326 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

Acting on the belief that she had called the chicks back to
the nest, a dozen rapid strokes were given to the bicycle
pump at the end of the tube, and the Tern promptly flew up
into the air, uttering her loud craik-craik in a way which
plainly showed us that the shutter on the camera had been
sprung. Instantly we rushed through the mud and water to
the nest, but only to find it as empty as before.

“She hovered near us”

Inserting a fresh plate in the camera, we returned to our
hiding place. Again the Tern scolded us vigorously, but af-
ter a while, as before, her fears seemed to decrease; she
gradually drew nearer to the nest and eventually dropped
lightly down into the reeds. After waiting a moment for
her to settle herself, the bieyele pump was again used, and
at the twelfth plunge of the piston the Tern shot upward as
though she were blown from the end of the tube! We accept-
ed her action as an unfailing indication that the shutter was

THE PRAIRIES 327

properly released and once more splashed quickly through
the water to see what we might see; but only an empty nest
met our gaze, and we were as ignorant of the fate of the
young Terns as we had been in the beginning.

The continued anxiety of the parents, however, encour-
aged us to continue our efforts to solve the mysterious dis-

Black Tern Attacking

appearance of their chicks, and, after several more attempts
we reached the nest just in time to see the two little ones
paddling away into the surrounding reeds, like ducklings.
This caused us to believe that on each occasion they had re-
turned to the nest only to desert it again as the old bird left
them, but it was not until the plates were developed, a
month later, that we could really put together the whole

328 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

story. Its main facts are shown in the photographs which
are here reproduced. One pictures the Tern while incubat-
ing. A second pictures her brooding her young after one of
their enforced baths in the surrounding waters. A compari-
son of these pictures shows the difference between the poses
of the bird during incubation and while brooding. A third
photograph reveals the two little Terns just as they had
climbed into the nest after their long swim for safety.

Black Tern Brooding

The incident is an extremely interesting illustration of
the power of that parental control on which the safety of
the young bird so largely depends. Here were non-natatorial
birds which, at the age of three days, in response to the com-
mands of their parent, made, without hesitation, what was,
doubtless, their first plunge into the water, swimming so ef-
fectively that we were unable to discover their hiding-place,

THE PRAIRIES 329

although we reached the nest within ten seconds after they
had left it. Nor did they apparently return to their home
until they were directed to do so. The commands of the par-
ent must have been given from the air, since pictures show-
ing the old bird brooding its chicks were made as soon as the
parent returned to the nest. The old bird invariably sprang
into the air at the click of the shutter and the empty nest

“Two little Terns ”

proved that the young birds deserted it at the same mo-
ment, and this performance they repeated as long as their
strength lasted.

An aged punt, which I trust was launched with an apol-
ogy to the lake, was used to explore the reed forests. This
was exciting but exasperating work. Strange calls from
just beyond the limit of vision in the dense growth, lured
one to continued exertions with the push pole, but the
swash of the clumsy craft gave warning of our coming and
the unknown voices always remained a mystery. A pair of
Holbeell’s Grebes had a nest on a small raft of water-soaked
reeds near the boat landing, but my best efforts to see the

330 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

bird on its nest failed; nevertheless, whether I approached
cautiously or as rapidly as possible, five warm eggs were al-
ways carefully covered, while the bird, with body nearly
submerged, uttered a sharp cluck as it swam nervously
about in the near-by reeds. Fresh leaves which I placed on
the nest-covering in the morning were missing in the after-
noon showing that the bird had returned to the nest in the
meantime. The eggs hatched June 17.

The Western Grebe, whether flushed from the nest or
leaving it to feed, does not, as a rule, cover its eggs, and
only in exceptional cases were the eggs concealed by the
nest material. Nevertheless I have seen the birds, while
standing nearly erect in the nest, attempt to place some
covering over the eggs before sliding into the water as I ap-
proached. I have found a colony containing dozens of nests
of these birds, each with eggs, not one of which was covered,
although the birds had left them voluntarily. Other obser-
vations show that they spend much time away from their
nests during the day.

They are splendid, spirited birds and hold their long,
slender necks with a dignity and grace of carriage which
should win them the name of Swan-Grebe. Although with-
out the feather ‘‘ ruffs ’’ of some Grebes, their shining black
crowns and sharply defined absolutely immaculate, snowy-
white cheeks and necks are striking characters and, when
seen at short range, their bright red eyes increase the dis-
tinction of their appearance. While preening their plum-
age, they often lie on one side inthe water, when the light
flashes from their glistening breasts as it would from a
mirror.

When mating, the feathers of crown and nape are fluff-
ed, the birds face each other and, with evidently intense ex-
citement, wave their heads and necks from side to side with
a swaying, sinuous motion; then, as they come together,
there follows a rush through the water which can be heard
above all other sounds of the reeds.

THE PRAIRIES 38

Yellow-headed Blackbird Feeding Young

The Swan Grebe’s voice is a loud, double-toned, whistled
c-r-r-ee-cr-r-1-ee, Which can be heard distinctly when the
bird is beyond reach of the eye, on the open waters of the
lake, and even a poor imitation of this far-reaching call
brings the lakes of prairie or plain more clearly before me
than the memory of the note of any other of their bird in-
habitants.

The average number of eggs is four. The young Grebe
can swim the moment it leaves the egg but at this early age
it will crawl into one’s hand rather than remain in the wa-
ter. Two or three hours later, however, when the plumage
has dried, it voluntarily leaves the nest to accompany the
parents, whose backs now form its resting place. Should
the parent dive while the young bird is sitting on its back,
the little fellow is apt to lose his place, then he strikes out
for himself; swimming and diving readily. But when the

532 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

downy chicks are held beneath the wing, whence the heads
protrude through the tertiaries, they are taken under the
water.

The feather-eating habit of Grebes is well known but I
believe it has never been explained. Possibly the adults
may swallow the feathers secured through their frequent

Coot’s Nest with Newly Hatched Young

preening, but am at loss to understand why chicks not
more than three days old should have their stomachs tight-
ly stuffed with a ball of their parents feathers. In the stom-
ach of one I found a compact wad of 238 feathers, and in
another there were no less than 331. <All were the smaller
body feathers of the adult Grebe.

While the Grebes and Coots were the ruling spirits of
the water, the Yellow-headed Blackbird was as clearly the

THE PRAIRIES 333

dominant bird of the reeds. This bird is possessed of a per-
sonality which would doubtless repay close study; but it is
one of the penalties of hurried collecting trips that but lit-
tle time can be devoted to one bird, if one would gain even a
superficial idea of the avifauna as a whole. It is your stay-
at-home, not your traveling naturalist who has opportunity
for prolonged, continuous and adequate observation.

Long-billed Marsh Wren Entering Nest

In spite of their abundance and vociferousness, the Yel-
low-heads conducted their household affairs with more or
less secrecy. Their nests were tied to the reed stems at an
average height of four feet from the water. Soaking wet
grasses are used in building and, in drving, the well-woven
structure becomes firm and dense. I did not see the male
feed the young birds while they were at the nest, though he
seemed attentive enough after they had made their initial
flight. A female which I watched for some hours in active at-

334 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

tendance upon a brood of four young, approached the nest
quietly and with the utmost caution, but, having delivered
her supply of food, she always uttered a series of the most
surprising squawks as she left the nest for more.

To one accustomed to find Night Herons nesting in
trees, often at a height of eighty feet, it was surprising to

~~
y,

Young Black-crowned Night Herons and Nest

observe these birds nesting on a platform of reed stalks
only two or three inches above the water. The structure
looked more like the home of a Coot than of a Night Heron
and aptly illustrated the influence of environment both in
determining the character of the nesting-site and that of the
nest itself.

Several attempts were made to study the hird-life of the

‘‘ yeefs ’? in the lake, but these islands were so small and so

THE PRAIRIES 335

thickly populated with birds, that the erection of the most
inconspicuous kind of a blind aroused their suspicion and [
learned little more of them than is conveyed by the photo-
graphs of their nests with eggs and young.

A‘ reef ’’ north of the Narrows was so thickly covered
with the nests of Double-crested Cormorants, that appar-
ently not a site was left unoccupied. The black, half-naked

Young Double-crested Cormorants and Nests

young, with rapidly palpitating pouches, sat panting in
their nests, erving like puppies. Both they and their home
were as unattractive as birds and thei haunts can well
be. A perch, brought by an adult as food, was said by my
boatman not to have been found in Shoal Lake, where
pickerel abound. It had possibly been captured in Lake
Manitoba.

My failure to establish intimate relations with the small
colony of White Pelicans nesting in the lake, is related be-

336 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

yond; nor did I have more success with the California
Gulls.

The Common Terns occupied the larger islets with sandy
beaches, where their nests were placed closer together than
I have seen them elsewhere; ten being found in a measured
six-foot square. Always nervous, possibly the proximity of
the four or five hundred birds, in a colony which was under
observation for some hours, accounted for the frequency
with which they left their nests. Without evident cause of
alarm, and acting asa single bird, with a rush of wings,
they would suddenly dart from their nests out over the
water. Nota note was uttered but as they circled and flut-
tered above their eggs, they called the familiar tear-r-1, and
gradually dropping, soon returned to their eggs. But
scarce were they settled when the performance was
repeated, and if a hatching egg had not been found, the
adequacy of their incubation methods might have been
questioned. There appeared to be exceptionally wide vari-
ation in the coloration of the eggs in this colony; one nest
containing two which were blue, and unspotted.

A railroad now passes within a stone’s throw of our
camp-site at Shoal Lake and the bird-life of the borders of
the lake has doubtless already yielded to the changed condi-
tions implied by increased accessibility; but the reefs and
islets are not so readily affected and let us hope will long
hold their own.

THE PLAINS

As we journey westward through Manitoba, following
the Canadian Pacific railway into Saskatchewan and east-
ern Alberta, the rainfall gradually decreases, and when we
have reached the isohyetal line of ten to fifteen inches,
which swings northwestward at about the one hundred and
second meridian, we may be said to be fairly on the Plains.
Except along the streams or among the sand-hills, there is
no native forest growth, and the eye may vainly search the
horizon for the sight of a single tree.

The rolling ground is covered with a thick growth of
grass which in lower, moister situations, is replaced by
higher species, a small sage bush, rose-bushes and a recum-
bent cactus grow sparsely, and, in season, there is a pro-
fusion of flowers. To this sketch a botanist would add many
details but here, at any rate, we have those features of the
vegetation which impress themselves on the layman.

Thad always attributed the plainsman’s glorification of
his native heath to lack of experience, love of home, or the
influence of those associations which so fortunately predis-
pose us toward the land of our birth. That a flat, treeless,
featureless country could, from a scenic standpoint, be seri-
ously compared with the forested and watered East, or the
mountainous West, seemed impossible, but I had only to
live on the Plains to yield to their compelling charm.

In the first place, the Plains are not flat but are rolling,
and their sweeping undulations not only please the eye but
appeal to the imagination by concealing what lies beyond
each succeeding ridge. The ridges, in turn, give a breadth
of view compared with which one’s horizon at sea is
restricted; and to this measureless expansiveness of the

Plains, more than to any other characteristic, is due their
23

338 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

uplifting and exalting influence. No where else does one
see so much of the world and yet seem so much a part of it.

After a sea voyage ina sailing vessel where, of neces-
sity, one constantly watches the heavens, I have been im-
pressed by the narrow outlook one has in a wooded region.
But on the Plains, the atmospheric phenomena of half a
continent seem spread around one, and because of the
greater diversity of the surface conditions, they are far
more varied than at sea. Ihave seen six distinct storms
streaking the sky at the same moment, each one separated
from the other by clear sky or variously colored clouds;
clouds too, such as one sees only on the Plains, for, after all
is said, the glory of the Plains is their clouds.

If the life of a wooded country were as easily observed
as that of the Plains, their faunas might be more readily
compared, but we have as yet no complete census of even
the vertebrate forms of a single square mile of forest;
while on the Plains virtually everything above ground is
visible as far as the eye can detect it; the herds of cattle and
sheep; a bunch of antelope with heads up, watching keenly ;
a coyote sneaking off and looking back over his shoulder; a
kit fox, trotting briskly and unconcernedly; a badger /flow-
ing over the grass toward his home; ground squirrels scur-
rying for their holes or sitting erect at the entrance and pip-
ing shrilly; all form part of the readily observable mammal-
life of a typical Plains scene.

The last three weeks of June, 1908, were devoted by
Louis Fuertes and myself to field work on the Plains about
Crane Lake and Big Stick Lake, respectively about twenty
miles east and twenty-five miles north of Maple Creek. The
demands of special collecting and the shortness of the time,
permitted us to gain only a general idea of the character of
the avifauna as a whole, without attemping detailed studies
of certain species.

When compared with that of Shoal Lake in Manitoba,
the bird-life of Maple Creek region is distinguished first, by

THE PLAINS 339

the greater abundance of certain species, which are near
their eastern limit in the first-named locality, (examples are,
Western Grebe, Franklin’s Gull, California Gull, White Pel-
ican, Wilson’s Phalarope, Long-billed Curlew); second, by
the presence of plains or alkaline lake species, not observed
about Shoal Lake, (examples are, Avocet, Western Willet,
Ferruginous Rough-leg, Chestnut-collared and McCown’s
Longspurs, Lark Bunting, Sprague’s Pipit); third, by the
absence of those arboreal species which inhabited the pop-
lars about Shoal Lake. Most of these, however, would doubt-
less have been found if we had searched the limited tree-
growth along Maple Creek, or in the sand-hills, which dune-
like occasionally arise in the Plains. Nor didwe visit the tim-
ber of the ‘* Cypress Hills,’’ some twenty miles south of the
town of Maple Creek, but examination of A. C. Bent’s ex-
cellent list of the‘‘ Summer Birds of Southwestern Saskateh-
ewan,’’ (The Auk, XXIV, 1907, pp. 407-485; XXV, 1908,
pp. 25-385), shows that most of the Manitoban birds are pres-
ent, while, with them, is an interesting infusion of such west-
ern forms as the Red-shafted Flicker, Arkansas Kingbird,
Say’s Phcebe, Western Wood Pewee, Wright’s Flycatcher,
Bullock’s Oriole, Pink-sided Junco, Arctic Towhee, Audu-
bon’s Warbler, Macgillivray’s Warbler, Long-tailed Chick-
adee, Western Robin, and to this list may be added a Rock
Wren, observed near Big Stick Lake, June 9.

The characteristic Plains birds in southern Saskatehe-
wan, are Chestnut-collared and McCown’s Longspurs,
Lark Buntings, Horned Larks, (Otocoris alpestris leu-
colema), Meadowlarks, (Sturnella neglecta), Bay-winged
Buntings, (Poewcetes gramineus confinis), and Rough-leg-
ged Hawks, (Archibuteo ferrugineus). All but the last-
named are abundant, while the first four are flight singers,
and there is virtually not a moment of the day when one or
more of them cannot be seen or heard. The Meadowlark’s
flight song, though given as frequently as its perch song,
earlier in the season, is less often heard in June, when the

340 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

bird commonly sings froma bush or from that apparently
welcome innovation, a fence post.

The Longspurs and Lark Bunting sing in the air, in the
most charming manner; not uttering their notes to the time
of rapid wing-vibrations, but, having attained an elevation
of from fifteen to thirty feet, the wings are held widely ex-
panded and, facing the wind, the singing bird floats, lightly,
gently, earthward, as though its buoyaney departed with its
escaping song. It is an equisite performance.

The Longspurs’ songs are bright, cheery, tuneful bits of
bird musie, that of the Chestnut-collared suggesting a min-
ature of the Western Meadowlark’s. But of this trio of
floating songsters the Lark Bunting is the most distinguish-
ed. His song is truly a noteworthy effort, possessed of much
volume and sweetness and recalling strains of the Song
Sparrow, the Mockingbird and, especially, the Canary. At
all times conspicuous, the male, when floating earthward
with outstretched, motionless wings, becomes a striking fig-
ure, visible for a long distance; his colors a pronounced ex-
ception to those of most Plains birds.

Another contradiction in color is found on comparing
the tails, in flight, of the Longspurs and Shore Lark; the
former being conspicuously white, the latter black. What-
ever end is gained by the white tail, whether of the ‘‘recog-
nition,’’ or of ‘‘signalling,’’ it is assuredly not served by the
black one; still, both burds live under the same conditions
and are alike in general habits.

The marked change which occurs in the character of the
bird-life as one reaches the lower ground bordering the
sloughs, is not heralded by a corresponding change in flora.
The alkalinity of the water is doubtless accountable for the
usual absence of bushes and trees about the lakes, and one
passes from the dry and perhaps parched plains into the
mud and water of the sloughs, with only a thickening and
lengthening of the grass which, in the water, gives way to
small tulés.

THE PLAINS 341

The birds, however, respond at once to the altered condi-
tions, and as we approach a slough, the Chestnut-collared
Longspur and Meadowlark alone, of our Plains birds, re-
main common; the former slightly increases in numbers and
to them are added Bartram’s Sandpiper, trilling its weird
flute-notes, while numerous Western Willets, Marbled God-
wits, Long-billed Curlews, and Killdeer fly about one crying
noisily.

About the border of the
sloughs, are Avocets, most
nervous and excitable crea-
tures, Wilson’s Phalaropes,
Soras and several species
of shallow-water, dabbling
Ducks; Spoonbills, Gad-
walls, Mallards, Pintail and
Blue-winged Teal being the
most abundant in the order
named.

In the sloughs or lake
borders, grown with tall
grasses and tulés, the nest-
ing birds are Western and
Eared Grebes, Franklin’s
Gulls, Black Terns, Red-
heads, Canvasbacks and
Ruddy Ducks, American Bartram’s Sandpiper on Nest
Bitterns, flying about act-
ively during the day, Coots, and Yellow-headed and Red-
winged Blackbirds (A. p. fortis).

Finally, there are the birds of certain islands in the
lakes, to which, according to the custom of ground-nesting
colonial birds, White Pelicans, California and Western
Gulls, and Common Terns, were confined, Wild Geese, as
well as some of the slough border birds just mentioned be-
ing, in some cases, associated with them. In this land of

342 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

Young Long-billed Curlew

short grass, birds on the prairie or about the borders of the
lakes, seemed double their real size. Pintail Ducks were
often mistaken for Geese, while Geese when grazing, looked
almost as large as yearlings!

The camper on the Plains is always confronted by the
difficulty of finding wood and good water; but if he can sup-
ply his own bedding, he will generally find a home wherever
there is aranch. Scott’s sheep ranch at Crane Lake and
Baynton’s at Big Stick Lake gave Fuertes and myself not

THE PLAINS 343

only a cordial welcome but, by information and the use of
boats and horses, material assistance in our search for
birds. At Scott’s we oceupied a wool shed within a few yards
of the corral into which two thousand sheep were driven
nightly, while awaiting their turn in the shearing pens. The
experience gave us a lasting conception of the vocal abilities
of sheep and lambs, nor will we forget a certain turkey gob-
bler who, with a regularity that an alarm clock might envy,
and a frequency of repetition it could never hope to equal,
made memorable the early hours of the day. We were close-
ly associated also with numerous hens and roosters, cats and
sheep dogs, while thirteen young Wild Geese were the tamest
and most confiding creatures on the ranch. They were
hatched from sets of seven and six eggs which had been
taken from the Goose nests and placed under hens two days
before the young appeared. On June 13, when first they
sought our acquaintance, these goslings were about two
weeks old. They acted as one family and were followed
about by a solicitous Plymouth Rock hen to whom they paid
not the slightest attention. On one occasion, possibly stimu-
lated by contact with the water of a small puddle, they
showed some signs of fear, diving and running in an excited,
erratic way; but at other times, they fed peacefully about
the house, displaying so much confidence in man that when-
ever they chanced to see us using a wash basin, they all at-
tempted to occupy it at the same moment, conclusive evi-
dence that with Geese, love of water is instinctive and fear
of man acquired. Nevertheless, a single day with the parent
Goose would probably have made them Wild Geese in every
sense of the word.

Flocks of from five or six to thirty Wild Geese were seen
daily, but the two pairs which nested on a small grassy
island at Scott’s ranch, were the only ones known to breed;
and here, in spite of the fact that their eggs are always
taken, Geese nest vearly. The island is about two hundred
yards long and half as wide, and not more than one hundred

344 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

and fifty yards from the shore. But this narrow strip of wa-
ter is a sufficient protection against coyotes and, in addition
to the Geese, about a dozen Ducks, chiefly Gadwalls, a hun-
dred or more Common Terns and several hundred Ring-bill-
ed and California Gulls nested there.

The Tern’s nests were scattered—one was placed in an
old Goose nest—but those of the Gulls were thickly massed

Young Wild Geese

at one end of the island; the Ring-bills oceupied the higher
ground, wihle the California Gulls were nearer the water
and built higher nests. The eggs of the latter species were
apparently the first to hatch, young being observed on June
14. These birds were far from shy and on being approached,
merely rose in the air where, facing the wind, they hung sus-
pended, all calling vociferously. So closely did their posi-
tion depend on the direction of the wind that one could walk

THE PLAINS 345

around the flock of clamorous birds, viewing first their
heads then their tails, without their attempting to face the
cause of alarm.

The California Gulls on Shoal Lake, devoured the eggs
deserted by White Pelicans, but neither on Crane Lake nor
on Big Stick Lake, where another large colony was found,

— HENNY,
ee a ee

fi vi

Ring-billed and California Gulls

were the Gulls observed to prey upon the eggs of other spe-
cies. At the latter place, they gathered the crumbs which
fell from the Pelicans’ table and did not hesitate to drive the
great birds from their own board.

I did not succeed in learning to distinguish these Gulls
by their notes alone, although there is a difference in their
voices; nor could I determine the significance of their var-
ious calls, as, with head down or again with head pointed
upward, they uttered their characteristic kow-kow-kow, or
kee-ow. A harsh cuk-cuk-cuk appeared to be a note of alarm,
while a call in which the syllables oo0-eek, o0-eek were prom-
inent, was more in the nature of a song.

346 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

About the borders of the colony, the parent birds led
their young into the lake to bathe; both young and old
ducking their heads into the water repeatedly, buoyantly,
with evident joy in the performance.

June 19, we launched a small patehwork box—it could
scarcely be called a boat,—at the ford on Bear Creek and
floated down to Crane Lake. This was a thoroughly enjoy-
able experience. The creek averages not more than twenty
feet in width but is deep and the current bore us swiftly.
Rose-bushes, or an oceasional willow which invariably held
the nest of a Rough-leg or Swainson’s Hawk, appeared now
and then on the banks, but for the greater part they were as
bare as the Plains themselves. Ducks jumped, at nearly
every turn in the creek, and there were Sharp-tailed Grouse
in the rose-bushes, but it was not until we entered the
marshes and tulés at the mouth of the creek, that we reached
the center of abundance of the bird-life of the region. Here
were snowy banks of White Pelicans and the elusive West-
ern and Eared Grebes, the former uttering their characteris-
tie grating whistle, while to the latter we attributed a loud
kow-kowing, singularly like that of the Pied-billed Grebe.
Franklin’s Gulls passed us on bounding, billowy flight or
paused to circle curiously, and there were a few nervous
Black Terns. But Ducks and Geese were the dominant spe-
cies. The Geese, alert but dignified, watched us with necks
upstretched and were quickly convinced of our undesirabil-
ity. The Ducks took to the air when only their own safety
was concerned, but where a family was involved, they flutter-
ed painfully about, now before, now behind, and the less at-
tention we paid to them the more they paid tous. The
quaint, bobbing gay little Ruddy Ducks, with their rich,
brown plumage, bright blue bills, and tails cocked forward,
took wing only when closely pressed and then sped away in
bumblebee-like flight into the lake.

Their courtship is evidently conducted on the water, but
the Gadwall pursues his mate in the air, going at full speed

348 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

and twisting and turning with the erratic flight of a Barn
Swallow. Besides these two Ducks, there were also Mal-
lards, Baldpates, Blue-winged Teal, Shovellers, Pintails,
Redheads, Canvasbacks, Lesser Scaups, Buffleheads, Coots,
American Bitterns and Yellow-headed and Red-winged
Blackbirds.

Young Gulls

The locality and its bird-life have been well described by
Bent and Job, who on June 17, 1905, estimated that ‘‘at least
150 pairs of Ducks were breeding or preparing to breed”’
(The Auk, XXIV, 1907, p.417), on an island of about
four acres, which here terminates the reedy growth.
But the following year, only three nests could be found and
we discovered less than six. A coyote and a pair of minks
were believed to be responsible for the decrease, but the cut-
ting of the grass by a neighboring ranchman doubtless also
disturbed the birds.

I devoted my time here solely to collecting material for a
group of Western Grebes. The birds, their nests, eggs and

THE PLAINS 349

young could be secured without difficulty, but I frankly con-
fess that although every means I could devise was used to
secure satisfactory photographs of the birds themselves, the
effort failed.

The instinct of incubation is apparently too poorly de-
veloped to make the nest a lure, while the shyness of the
birds, the instantaneousness with which their diving habits
enable them to disappear, and the denseness of the tulés
among which they lived, all militated against success. What-
ever was learned of the habits of the bird, as it was observed
both here and on Big Stick, has been incorporated in my
notes on this species in the preceding chapter.

Black Terns

THE MOUNTAINS

Most visitors to the Canadian Rockies, who give any
thought to the subject, leave them, I think, with the impres-
sion that they are unusually deficient in bird-life. This be-
lief is due, doubtless, not so much to the restrictions of the
avifauna as to the overwhelming grandeur of the region it-
self. The hurrying tourist, and few there are, unfortunate-
ly, who do not hurry, is kept ina state of intense enthusiasm
by what is probably the most impressive scenery he has ever
beheld, and from the time he enters the mountains until he
leaves them, his outlook never lacks a view which is not
worthy all the homage his nature is fitted to render to it.
Small wonder, then, that he has no time to look for birds;
and if he does not look for them he will not find them.

So far as bird-life is concerned, conditions here are es-
sentially primitive. There is a settlement at Banff, but, be-
yond this, the Canadian Pacific railway buildings and hotels
are almost the only evidence of man’s occupation one sees
in the mountains. These hotels, erected for the benefit of
sight-seeing tourists, permit one to step from the train into
the heart of the forest primeval, and find excellent accom-
modations. There are, therefore, no orchards or stubble-
fields, or other artificial conditions favorable to the increase
of those birds which readily adapt themselves to the ways of
man and thrive on his bounty. Nevertheless, many birds
inhabit these great coniferous woods, but the height of the
trees and density of the undergrowth afford them opportun-
ities for concealment. They are consequently more often
heard than seen, and if one’s ear be not attuned to their voi-
ces, they will doubtless pass unnoticed and one will have
missed hearing some of our best songsters, under conditions
which would make the experience memorable.

THE MOUNTAINS 351

Burroughs long ago wrote of the ‘‘ serene exaltation of
spirit ’’ occasioned by the song of the Hermit Thrush, and
when one is already thrilled by the majesty of the snow-
crowned mountains and awed by the grandeur of the for-
ests, the calm, pure, heavenly hymn of the Hermit reaches
chords in one’s nature untouched before.

Throughout this region, the Hermit, (Hylocichla guttata
audubont) is a common bird, its song season lasting until
the end of July, while the Olive-backed Thrush (JZylocichla
ustulata subsp.), which, as a songster, is not far behind him
in rank, is even more common. The Western Robin, which
differs from its eastern representative only in the absence of
white on the tips of the outer tail-feathers, a third member
of the Thrush family,is also generally distributed and shows
a ready disposition to abandon its forest ways for a home
about the haunts of man. At Glacier, to this trio of
Thrushes is added the Varied Thrush, a bird of striking ap-
pearance and remarkable voice. As large as the Robin, the
back is gray, the underparts rich brown, with a broad black
band crossing the breast. The song of the Varied Thrush
cannot be compared to that of any other bird whose notes
are known to me. It is the song of the wind, sung by a bird;
a single, long-drawn, double-toned, wonderfully vibrant
whistle of one note. When the singer is near, it rises with
swelling resonance until the woods echo with its singular
timbre, then dies away without once conveying a definite
idea of the bird’s whereabouts. Ina moment of two it is
repeated, now in a different key, but always with the inde-
seribable ringing quality which makes it unique among the
songs of American birds. He who actually sees the bird in
the act of singing, may count himself fortunate. Indeed, in
the forests about Glacier, the bird is at all times difficult to
discover. Here, from July 18 to 20, 1907, we heard at least
fifty Varied Thrushes, but did not see one. On a former vis-
it, later in the month, they frequented the lawn before the
hotel to gather food for their still unfledged young; a strik-

352 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

ing response by this elusive forest dweller to the advances
of civilization.

In July, 1901, on my first visit to Glacier, a pair of Barn
Swallows, after the charming manner of their kind, were
giving a more complete evidence of their confidence in man,
by attempting to build a nest beneath the hotel piazza. The
conditions, however, were evidently novel and the mud
would not stick on the smooth face of the rafter which had
been selected as a site. I ventured to nail up a cleat by way
of foundation. The assistance was accepted in good part and
the nest was completed. In 1907, I found a pair of Barn
Swallows nesting where I had left either them or their pred-
ecessors six years before.

Trilling Juncos, slightly browner than the eastern bird,
are common at the edges of the wood along the railway track
and particularly about the stables attached to the hotels.
With them may be found Intermediate White-crowned
Sparrows, whose plaintive song of five notes, so singularly
suggestive of the song of the Black-throated Green War-
bler, is here one of the most characteristic bits of bird mu-
sic; and from the tangle of fallen tree-tops, the song of the
Western Winter Wren, trickles out like the voice of a hid-
den brook.

At Laggan, the Fox Sparrows, singing gaily, succeeded
as few birds can, in making dark days seem bright and
cheerful, while from the tree-tops, the Ruby-crowned King-
let played his magic flute and the Olive-sided Flycatcher
called his emphatic ‘‘Come up here.’’ The Solitaire, a dis-
tinguished figure in the list of American song birds, was not
uncommon at Laggan, but only once did I hear the ecstatia
carrolling which takes the bird from its feet, high above the
tree tops. This was at timberline where the bird seemed lift-
ed by the force of its song, not only above the trees but
above the mountains tops, above the very earth itself. In
July these are the leading members of the feathered
choir in the Canadian Rockies, which it is evident, contains

THE MOUNTAINS 353

some of the most gifted songsters in America. The less mu-
sical or more quiet species which I have observed at this sea-
son, include the Spotted Sandpiper, Richardson’s Grouse,
Golden Eagle, several species of Hawks, Kingfisher, Raven,
Canada Jay, Rocky Mountain Jay, Pine Finch, Chipping
Sparrow, Violet-green Swallow, Bank Swallow, Yellow, Au-
dubon’s, and Golden Pileolated Warblers, Chickadee and

“A strange, plump little figure ”

Columbian Chickadee, Arctic Bluebird, and Dipper. Of
this anomaly among birds, this diving Thrush, I founda
nest late in July, 1901, in a rock fissure overhanging the
rushing waters of Fish Creek, at Glacier. It contained five
young, nearly fledged, which the parents fed as I sat within
a foot of their home.

Swollen by the rapidly melting snowfields stretching
down from Asulkan Pass, the stream dashed by with so
great an uproar, that the human voice was inaudible from

bank to bank, a distance of not more than twenty feet, but
24

304 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

Nest of Dipper
“ TInlasrock fissure, overhanging the rushing waters”

the pebbly note of the Dipper penetrated the thunder of the
waters sharply and clearly. A strange, plump little figure
he was, bobbing on a rock, barely above the turmoil of foam,
his white-marked eyelid flashing with each wink.

The young were fed on insects, doubtless larve gathered
from the bottom of a tributary brook, up which the birds
flew for afresh supply. They never crossed the land, but
with the whirring wings of bumblebee-like flight, followed

THE MOUNTAINS 355

every bend of the main stream to leave it at right angles and
pursue an equally water-governed course to the feeding-
ground.

The bird-loving tourist may find all the birds mentioned,
and many others, virtually at the door of his hotel, but this
is not all the region has to offer him. By ascending those
mountains which reach above timberline, here at about 7500
feet altitude, he will enter another world with a new fauna
and flora, leaving behind him all the forest-haunting birds,
and finding others not one of which he has seen below. He
will leave behind, too, the hotels and some inharmonious ele-
ments of human life for which they are responsible. The
morning we left Lake Louise for Ptarmigan Pass , fifteen
miles to the north, a westbound Convention was taking pos-
session of the place, and I have often wondered how many
times ny party of artist and guide, with our five horses, was
photographed before we crossed the railway at Laggan.

We forded the Pipestone, (now bankfull and flowing with
almost force enough to take the horses off their feet), just
above its junction with the Bow, making no doubt a fine sub-
ject for the last of the kodak-snapping conventionists who,
not concerned about owr photographie apparatus, doubtless
enjoyed the experience more than we did.

Passing through the Murray pines of the river valley, we
began the ascent to the Ptarmigan Lakes, camping that af-
ternoon in the Engelman spruce, and Lyall’s larch, at tim-
berline, just below the mouth of Ptarmigan Pass. The view
from this point gave a new meaning to the word “‘ indeserib-
able.’? The mountains across the Bow Valley to the south
—Temple, the peaks of Moraine Lake, Hungabee, Le-
froy and Victoria—form perhaps the most beautiful and im-
pressive group in the Canadian Rockies. To climb them and
explore their passes and deeply cut valleys, is a thrilling ex-
perience, but it is ike viewing a play from the stage; to see
this stupendous array of snow-clad peaks, one should as-
cend the mountains to the north, in themselves comparative-

356 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

ly insignificant, but giving a breadth of vision which brings
the whole sublime panorama before one in a single view.
From the bird student’s standpoint, we were exception-
ally fortunate in our choice of acamp-site. Solitaires, Her-
mit Thrushes, Robins, Kinglets, White-crowned Sparrows,

The Ascent to Ptarmigan Pass

Juncos, Fox Sparrows and Audubon’s Warblers, represent-
ed the forest avifauna above our tent, but five minutes climb
took us beyond their limits into the Arctic-Alpine zone. The
change would not be more complete if one should travel
through twenty degrees of latitude, at sea level.

It was the height of Alpine spring. Bits of azure water
marked openings in the ice of the more exposed lakes. The
saturated meadows were thickly starred with butter cups.
Anemones clustered about the borders of the rapidly shrink-
ing snowfields, and on the rocky slopes, heath and heather,
killikinick and Dryas, bloomed luxuriantly.

THE MOUNTAINS 357

The mercury passed below the freezing point nightly,
skimming the newly opened water with ice; snow, sleet and
hail-storms raged violently if brieflly, but the flowers smiled
bravely through the frost crystals, with not so muchas a
wilted petal to show for the experience.

Thad come to this ‘‘top of the world’’? to make studies
and secure material for a group of Arctic-Alpine birds, not-
ably the Rosy Snow Finch, (Leucosticte tephrocotis), and
White-tailed Ptarmigan, (Lagopus leucurus). No birds
could emphasize more strongly the boreal character of the
life of these mountain summits. Snow Finches are found at
sea-level only north of the sixty-eighth degree of latitude
and extend southward, above timberline, in the Rockies, to
Colorado, where they nest at 11,500 feet altitude, and in the
Sierras, to Eldorado County, California, where they sum-
mer as low as about 9500 feet. They are said not to descend
below timberline during the summer, but we noted a striking
exception to this rule at Lake Louise, where numbers of
them came regularly to feed, about the forest-surrounded
stable. They were evidently attracted by the fallen grain
and may have learned of this supply of food during the win-
ter when the heavy snowfall drives them to lower levels.

The Ptarmigan is a characteristic cireumpolar type which
also finds a congenial home in comparatively low latitudes
at correspondingly high altitudes, ranging, in the Coast
Range, as far south as Oregon, and in the Rockies reaching
northern New Mexico. Its distribution is not continuous,
there being many breaks in the Alpine portions of these
mountain chains, such, for example, as separate the Rockies
of Colorado from the main chain to the northward. The
Ptarmigan of Colorado and New Mexico, therefore, cannot
have acquired their present distribution by extension of
range southward under existing conditions, but are evident-
ly to be classed with the group of northern plants and ani-
mals, which, brought south during the Glacial Period, were
left stranded on Arctic-Alpine islands by the retreating ice.

358 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

Still, we observe that the Ptarmigan of Colorado are the
same as those of the Canadian Rockies, evidence that the
birds have undergone no change since the time when their
distribution was continuous.

Camp at Ptarmigan Pass
Mt. Temple to the south

In color as well as in distribution, Ptarmigan are of ex-
ceptional interest. The fact that they are snowy white in
winter and mixed brown, gray and black in summer is com-
mon knowledge, but it is not generally known that their
plumages are even more closely adapted to seasonal condi-
tions than the striking change from white to brownish would
imply. Thus, in the spring, the females molt before the
males, at times acquiring their inconspicuous nesting cos-
tume before the male has lost a feather of his winter dress.
Tn winter, both sexes are white, but in summer, the female is
more quietly attired than the male, who retains a few white

THE MOUNTAINS 359

feathers sprinkled through the gray and brown ones he has
lately acquired.

The danger from attack by Falcons, Goshawks, Snowy
Owls, and various predaceous mammals, to which the ab-
sence of cover in their environment exposes them, requires,

vai “a
oie

American Pipit on Nest

however, still further adaptations. In that physiological
cycle of events comprising the bird’s year, a complete re-
newal of the plumage by molt is required immediately after
the close of the breeding season, when the bird passes into
winter plumage. If, however, the Ptarmigan should follow
this custom, it would don its white garb before the coming of
snow and be rendered fatally conspicuous. In defiance,
therefore, of the laws of molt, the bird does not acquire the
usual winter dress, but a gray supplemental or supernuner-
ary plumage, evidently designed to carry it over the snow-
less period, from the end of the nesting season in late July
or early August, to the snows of September or early Octo-

360 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

ber. This plumage appears only on the exposed portions of
the bird’s body and is followed in October by the pure white
winter dress. The case is one of the best arguments to be
found among birds for the value of, and necessity for pro-
tective coloring.

A Pair of Ptarmigan

I had never seen a living Ptarmigan and an unsuccess-
ful search for them in Colorado had sharpened my already
keen desire to meet this strongly characterized bird on its
native heather. But, the following morning, anticipations
of finding Ptarmigan were by no means my only eause for
exhilaration as I passed easily over the crisp snow crust,
formed during the night. There was the inspiring, elemen-
tal grandeur of the mountains, the grateful sense of utter
isolation, and the primitive abundance of certain forms of
life. Dozens of great hoary marmots, surprised at their
root-digging, galloped back to their caves, scuttling

THE MOUNTAINS 361

over the ground until they were within diving reach of their
own doors, when they stopped, sat up and whistled shrilly ;
hundreds of ground squirrels piped from the meadows and,
from the rock slides, the pika or little chief hare, uttered a
call singularly like the sound produced by blowing on a
blade of grass held between the thumbs.

Ptarmigan on Snow

Snow Finches in scattered companies, fed restlessly
about the border of the snowfields, or gathered insects
which had fallen on the snow itself. It was only when on the
snow, or when while in flight they called their crossbill-like
chuck, chuck, that they were easily observed.

Pipits fed on the meadows, or rang the little bell of their
flight song, from high in the air, and, finally, my willing ear
caught a new note, a loud, high squealing, crowing call, fol-
lowed by a chattering, chuckling chut-chut-chut, which could
have been uttered only by a Ptarmigan, and I was just in
time to see two birds alight near the base of a rock slide.
The spot was reached as quickly as the nature of the ground

Male Ptarmigan

“As long as he holds his rigid, statu-
esque pose, he is simply a lichen-cov-
ered rock”

BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

would permit, but no Ptarm-
igan could be found, and if
an additional chut had not
given a clue they might read-
ily have remained unseen.
With great caution I ad-
vanced to within about sixty
feet, now for the first time
seeing the female, and open-
ed fire with a fourteen-inch
lens. Plates were then expos-
ed at diminishing distances
until I was actually within
reach of the birds, which
proved to be tamer than
barnyard fowls. The first ev-
idence they gave of being

aware of my presence, was to remain perfectly motionless,
then, as I made no further advance, they attempted to com-
bine action with rigidity of pose and were almost successful
in achieving this impossible feat. With painful slowness, one
foot was placed in advance of the other, at the rate of about

three steps to the min-
ute. If I drew so near
that the birds seemed
convinced that they
were seen, the male as-
sumed a more alert,
bantam - like attitude,
ducking his upraised
head and flirting his tail
as though inviting me to
conflict.

The pose of the fe-
male was more hen-
like, and less agegres-

Male Ptarmigan Walking in Water

THE MOUNTAINS 363

“The little: brown bird in the heather ”
Ptarmigan Lake in the background

sive. She showed virtually no concern when I was with-
in three feet of her, feeding about the rocks, and even stop-
ping to scratch her head. After an hour or two, the male
became more accustomed to me, and seemed ag much at ease
as his mate, uttering a low, crooning note suggesting that of
a comfortable chicken on a sunny day.

Convinced that this female had a nest somewhere in the
immediate vicinity and was out for an airing with her mate,

364 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

T determined to watch them until their morning walk was
concluded. But atthe end of three hours, my artist-com-
panion, Louis Fuertes, arrived, with news of the discovery
not only of a Ptarmigan’s nest but of that of a Pipit also.

T had long before exposed my last plate on the smgularly
tame birds with which I had been spending the morning, but
sad experiences with birds’ nests left until ‘‘ to-morrow,”’

“ Almost permitted us to stroke her”

induced me to return to camp for a fresh supply and at once
follow my fortunate guide across a snowfield—where a bear
had preceded us the night before—to be introduced to the
little brown bird in the heather.

No photographer ever had a more patient sitter. With-
out audible objection, she permitted herself to be pictured
from this side, then from that, and almost permitted us to
stroke her as she sat on her five speckled eggs.

THE MOUNTAINS 3695

But a touch broke the spell of her astonishing stillness,
and she fluttered off a few yards only to become motionless
again. Herein lies the secret of the invisible cloak which
these birds wear. It is not alone their faith in it that counts.
All ground inhabiting birds exhibit this confidence in the

Ptarmigan on Nest

protective value of the dull-tinted costumes to a greater or
less degree. In the gallinaceous birds it is most highly de-
veloped, but none, in my experience, equals the Ptarmigan.
The mottled male, with more or less white and black in his
plumage, might be thought a rather conspicuously marked
bird, but as long as he holds his rigid, statuesque pose, he is
simply a lichen-covered rock. Doubtless we passed within
a few feet of numbers of them and were none the wiser.

The data obtained on this, our first day’s outing, was
sufficient to insure the successful accomplishment of the ob-
ject of our expedition. The haunting thought of failure was

366 BIRD-LIFE IN WESTERN CANADA

banished and the rest of our stay was occupied with the
study of details and the collection of accessories. It was a
journey of only five hours back to Lake Louise, but we seem-
ed to have returned from a far country.

Female Ptarmigan

THE WHITE PELICAN*

Pelicans are familiar to most of us as absurdly dignified,
ungainly inhabitants of zodlogical gardens; but it is perhaps
hardly fair to judge them in an environment for which they
are not responsible.

While in nature we shall not find Pelicans endowed with
that degree of intelligence and responsiveness which distin-
guishes certain birds higher in the evolutionary scale; they,
nevertheless, possess their own unequalled attractions.

However awkward White Pelicans may appear in cap-
tivity, when on the wing, they display a superb mastery of
the air. [know of no birds, which in flocks present so
grand a sight. TheMan- 0’-War Bird is the epitome of grace
and repose, in motion. <A flock of Flamingos is thrilling,
vivid, spectacular, but a flock of White Pelicans is indeserib-
ably majestic and impressive.

I recall a gathering of four or five hundred of these birds,
which, one blustery June day, in Saskatchewan, had left the
troubled waters of a shallow lake to rest upon the prairie.
In the distance, en masse, they could not have been distin-
guished from a patch of snow. As our wagon approached,
they arose, all flapping heavily, their wing strokes strongly
emphasized by the now exposed black flight feathers. For
afew moments they seemed to be in confusion, but unity of
movement was quickly developed, and the whole flock, dense-
ly massed and gleaming with strange whiteness against the
dark, threatening sky, moved toward the lake.

The direction of flight seemed well established, when a
single bird left the flock, flymg at right angles to the left.

* Although some of the observations herein recorded were not made in Canada, it
seems desirable to include this chapter in a part of the book which relates to a region
in which the White Pelican is probably most numerous.

368 THE WHITE PELICAN

The others swept on, but they had gone only a few yards
when one or two, then dozens and, finally the whole flock
turned to follow. Itwas a fine example of acknowledged
leadership. Then with the superb grace, power, and dignity
which so distinguishes them when in the air, the birds, on
set, expanded wings, began to soar, sweeping in broad cir-
cles higher and higher, until from the snow-bank of the prai-
ries they faded into a flurry of whirling snowflakes in the
clouds.

We must also accord to Pelicans that respectful atten-
tion which is the due of extreme age. Pelicans became Peli-
cans long before man became man, a study of the distribu-
tion of the eleven existing species leading to the conclusion
that at least as late as the latter part of the Tertiary Period,
our White Pelican, and doubtless also other species, pre-
sented much the same appearance that it does to-day.

Of the eight Old World species, the one inhabiting south-
ern Europe so closely resembles our American White Peli-
can, that early ornithologists regarded them as identical.
Nevertheless, the localities at which their ranges are near-
est, are separated by some 8000 miles. Such close re-
semblance, however, is neither an accident of birth or breed-
ing. Pelicans did not appear independently in the two
hemispheres. Birds so like each other and so unlike other
existing birds, must have had a common ancestry. Common
ancestry implies, at some time, continuity of range, and with
the Huropean and American White Pelicans, we may well
believe this to have occurred in that later portion of the Ter-
tiary Period, when a warm-temperate, or even sub- tropical
circumpolar climate existed. At this time, the Pelican, from
which we assume that the European and American White
Pelicans have both descended, inhabited the shores of the
Arctic Ocean.

Eventually, by those climatic changes resulting from a
continuously decreasing amount of heat, and culminating in
the Ice Age, the individuals of this hypothetical Polar Peli-

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“ Sweeping in broad circles”

370 THE WHITE PELICAN

can, were forced southward, some in Europe, some in Amer-
ica, but whether at the same time or not is unknown.

Should some swing of the temperature pendulum ever
re-establish the pre-glacial polar climate, the European and
American Pelicans, following in the wake of an advancing
favorable isotherm, may meet again on the shores of the Po-
lar Sea, whether as two species or one, who can say, but in
the meantime we look on them with special interest as but
slightly differentiated from the bird which fished in the Arc-
tic Ocean before, so far as we know, man appeared upon the
scene.

The White Pelican’s congeners in America are the dist-
antly related Brown Pelican and its southern representa-
tive, the Chilian Pelican. Both are maritine birds of tropi-
eal shores. The former is abundant on the Florida coast,
and ranges northward to the Carolinas; while on the Pacific
side, where it appears with a reddish, instead of olive pouch,
it is found regularly as far north as San Francisco and even
Point Reyes. Both are only one-half as heavy as the White
Pelican, which, with a weight of sixteen pounds, a wing ex-
panse of eight and one-half feet, and a body of greater pro-
portions than its weight would imply, may claim to be one of
the largest of North American birds.

The adaptability to climatic conditions to which possibly
the White Pelican owes its continued existance, in the face
of changes to which doubtless many other birds have sue-
cubed, enables it to thrive in widely separated and totally
unlike portions of our country. The presence of this bird in
Saskatchewan, for example, indicates that it more closely
approaches the home of its assumed Arctic¢ ancestor, than is
commonly supposed. In truth, White Pelicans go as far
north as Great Slave Lake, at latitude 61 degrees, each year,
though their most northern known nesting-place is Fort |
Smith in latitude 60 degrees. Nor are these the only birds
of theiy kind in this region, British America, east of the
Rockies, as far at least as Shoal Lake, forty miles northwest

THE WHITE PELICAN 371

of Winnipeg, being their known eastern outpost. In many
of the numberless lakes of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Al-
berta, Invariably upon islands, White Pelicans nest; a col-
ony containing anywhere from a dozen to several thousand
birds.

While early writers tell us that the White Pelican was at
one time more or less frequently seen in our North Atlantic
States, there is no record of its ever having nested east of
the Mississippi. In western Minnesota, Pelicans nested as
recently as 1878, and they doubtless also reared their young
at favorable localities in the northern plains states, but the
most eastern colony breeding in the United States to-day, is
found in Yellowstone Park. West of the Rockies, in the
Great Basin, there are Pelican settlements on islands in
Utah Lake, Utah; and in Washoe and Pyramid Lakes, Ne-
vada, while a great number nest in Lower Klamath Lake on
the California-Oregon line and probably also on other lakes
of eastern Oregon.

In California, they make their home in Eagle Lake in the
northern Sierras, and, until it was drained in 1904, they
nested on Kern Lake at the southern end of the San Joaquin
Valley, and, I am told, that the year after its formation, a
company of these birds took possession of an island in the
Salton Sea. These birds, therefore, have not only establish-
ed the most southern breeding record of their species, but
they have also established a record of intelligence in the de-
liberate selection of the only type of home in which it is pos-
sible for Pelicans to rear their young.

Conspicuous because of their size, color and gregarious-
ness, adult Pelicans would be a shining mark for the preda-
ceous animals of the mainland, while the fact that the young
Pelican cannot fly until he is at least two months old, imdi-
cates how little chance he would have of reaching this age
should his parents select a mainland home. The security af-
forded by an island is therefore as essential to the
continued existence of the Pelican as it is to other

372 THE WHITE PELICAN

colonial, ground-nesting birds. It has, however, always
been my belief that such island colonies were not the result
of an actual, definite selection but that they were formed
cumulatively, through the instinctive return of the young to
the place of birth in which their parents had chanced to
settle; while those birds which took up their abode on the
mainland, were either themselves destroyed or, in any event,
never succeeded in rearing their young. But the birds
which are reported to have occupied this newly formed
island in the Salton Sea, showed their evident appreciation
of the desirability of an insular home, and in Saskatchewan
I found evidence of this same type of intelligence.

In the summer, therefore, the White Pelican is an inhab-
itant of fresh water lakes and the latitude to which it has ex-
tended its range, shows that it has reacquired some of the
territory it was forced to abandon during the maximum de-
velopment of the Glacial Period.

In the winter, however, the White Pelican is chiefly a
dweller on salt water. Some individuals spend this season
in the lakes of the Mexican tableland. The greater number,
however, winter along the coasts of southern California,—
and particularly in the Gulf of California at the mouth of
the Colorado—south to Guatemala; they are also found
along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, from the mouth of
the Mississippi south to Mexico on the west side, and to
Cape Sable, at the extreme tip of Florida, on the east side.
On the east coast of Florida, it is a singular fact that White
Pelicans appear to spend the winter only in the Mosquito
Lagoon. On one occasion, I saw three of these birds pass-
ing up the coast at Palm Beach, presumably en route to the
one spot on the Atlantic seaboard which they are now known
regularly to frequent.

In the commonly accepted meaning of the word, the
White Pelican is not a game bird. It’s flesh is useless for
food, and it will neither ‘‘ flush ’’ nor ‘‘ stool;’’? but I can
commend it to the camera hunter as a quarry in every way

THE WHITE PELICAN 373

worthy of his most ardent endeavor; while to the ornithol-
ogist, it goes without saying, it is species of exceptional in-
terest. When, therefore, I add that my own pursuit of this
splendid bird has been made in the dual role of naturalist
and photographer; it may be imagined that a chase which
has covered parts of a period of six years has brought me no
small amount of pleasure and, | may add, at times a corre-
sponding measure of disappointment. Eventually, how-
ever, | reaped the reward which generally comes to most of
us if we are given enough time in which to try for it.

My first visit to the home of the White Pelican resulted
disastrously for the bird and bid fair to end my experiences
with its kind in the first chapter. It was on Shoal Lake, a
treacherous bit of water, some thirty miles long, lying be-
tween lakes Winnipeg and Manitoba. While encamped on
its shores, during June, 1901, I was led to believe that White
Pelicans seen daily, were nesting on a small bar or ‘‘ reef ”’
reported to exist five or six miles out in the lake, too far tobe
visible from land. The only boat available was a punt, hard-
ly large enough for two passengers, and designed to push
around in the quill reeds, which grow densely at the border
of the lake. It was long past the age when retirement from
service was its too obviously withheld due, but the lure of
the great white birds minified its defects; the voyage was
made, the island reached and the birds found.

I had now no doubt of the success of my attempt to pho-
tograph these before unpictured creatures, and to study
their habits under unique conditions. A group containing
six of the twenty-seven nests on the islet was selected, and
an umbrella blind was concealed in a small patch of reeds
growing in a foot or two of water. I entered it, focussed my
camera on the nearest nests, on which in imagination the
birds were already sitting, and waited. At the end of an hour
the birds returned, wheeled over the island at a considerable
height, evidently took in the situation and disappeared to
return no more.

374 THE WHITE PELICAN

In the meantime a storm which, on shore occasioned both
loss of life and property, developed, and we found it impos-
sible to leave the island. A tent-fly, brought for such an
emergency, was rigged over a pole supported at one end by
a camera tripod and at the other by crossed oars, and my
boatman and I passed the night clinging to this pole to pre-
vent our shelter from being blown into the lake.

“A tent-fly .... supported at one end by a camera tripod”

A Pelican’s nest of heaped up sand and pebbles offered
the only seat not under water and, after removing the three
eges it contained to another nest, I gratefully occupied it,
with thanks to the bird whose instinct had prompted it to
build a home so far above water level.

Toward morning the thunder and lightning ceased and
the rain showed less resemblance to a deluge, but the head
wind continued. We could not induce a fire to burn and we

THE WHITE PELICAN 375

were not provisioned for a siege, but before the situation be-
came unpleasant, the wind fell, shifted in our favor, and we
reached the mainland to the no small relief of those await-
ing us.

Nine days later, | made the trip again, but only to find
that the Pelicans’ eggs had been eaten, doubtless by Gulls,
six pairs of which were also nesting on the island. The ex-
perience was not only thoroughly disappointing, but sadly

Pelican’s Nest, Shoal Lake

enough it induced three young ornithologists to venture to
the same ‘‘reef’’ two years later in search of Pelicans’ eggs.
Less fortunate than we were, they encountered one of the
violent storms so characteristic of the region, and when
still far from the islet their boat filled, and two of them were
drowned.

The change from the mosquito-infested sloughs and lakes
onthe prairies of showery Manitoba to the desert sage-
brush, and mountains of arid Nevada is so great that but
few birds are common to both regions. Pelicans, however,

376 THE WHITE PELICAN

ask only for fish and an island remote from man. It matters
not, apparently, whether the island be baked in the torrid
heat of the Salton Desert or cooled by the sub-aretic breezes
of Great Slave Lake, or whether the fish are the tastless pick-
erel of muddy Shoal Lake, or the delicately flavored trout of
sparkling Pyramid Lake, whose praises Fremont sang when
long ago he made this beautiful sheet of water known to the
world. Insular seclusion and food are the requisites, and
these are found in so marked a degree on Anahao Island and
in the surrounding waters of Pyramid Lake, Nevada, that
the largest known colony of White Pelicans exists there.

In Pelican annals, this is historic ground. Here, in May,
1868, Robert Ridgway, while naturalist of Clarence King’s
Survey of the fortieth parallel, found White Pelicans nest-
ing in great numbers and added much to our then scanty
knowledge of this species; particularly in regard to the
shedding of the horny keel-like knob which appears on the
upper mandible of the Pelican prior to the nesting season
and is shed after the eggs are laid.

The Shoal Lake experience whetted my appetite for Pel-
icans, and Ridgway’s published report, induced me to lay
plans for Pyramid Lake as possibly stilla resort of this
wary species. They matured in July, 1903. On the sixth of
that month, with Dr. C. Hart Merriam, Louis Fuertes, and
two other naturalists, I drove from Wadsworth, forty miles
north over the sage plains and under the great cottonwoods
which border the Truckee, to a small road house half-way
up the western side of the lake. The whole region is con-
tained in the Piute Indian Reservation and, beyond the
houses at the agency near the southern end of the lake, this
road house was the only one seen occupied by a white man.

Pyramid Lake is a marvelously beautiful body of water.
It is surrounded by treeless mountains, whose strongly mod-
elled contours mirror the purple shadows of the illusively
clear desert air, and emphasize the atmospheric effects over
and bevond the lake’s ultramarine waters.

THE WHITE PELICAN 377

The lake is thirty miles long, and ten miles wide, oppo-
site our lodging. When we reached its shores, a storm which
had foreed our one hundred and twenty-five foot steamer on
Lake Tahoe to abandon part of her trip, was still raging.
Long, curling, crested waves came rolling in, to break on the
beach in a manner creditable to the sea shore. We looked at
the troubled waters, at the roughly made, flat-bottomed
punts, the only available boats, and at Anahao, the assumed
island home of the Pelicans, seven miles from our shore,—
and decided to wait.

Young Pelicans, Anahao Island

The Indians assured us that if we did succeed in reach-
ing the island we would certainly be killed by rattlesnakes,
and the long anticipated meeting with Pelicans seemed
somehow to lose much of its charm. Incidentally it may be
remarked that in the end we found abundant ground for the
Indians’ statement. But the next day, the wind had gone,
the lake smiled in the sunlight, our apprehension decreased,
our desires increased, and early the following morning, pro-
visioned for a stay if need be, we embarked in three boats
and, after nearly three hours rowing, reached the island. It

378 THE WHITE PELICAN

is somewhat over a mile long, and half a mile wide; witha
central mass of tufa, some five hundred feet high, fringed
by fallen rock. As yet we had seen no Pelicans on it, but,
when climbing a rocky divide I looked over into a snowy
mass of them, my exultation could be measured only by the
time and trouble the journey to my view-point had required.

Anahao is too big to be seen at a glance, however, and
during the day when we completely covered it, eight distinct
colonies of Pelicans were found, containing in all, 4000
young Pelicans and one hundred and eighty-nine eggs. The
young ranged inage from those just hatching to others
which were beginning to acquire their wing-feathers. Gen-
erally speaking, all the young of one colony were approx1-
mately the same age; suggesting that the various groups
formed quite distinctive villages, and conducted their af-
fairs wholly independent of one another.

As I went from colony to colony and the old birds desert-
ed their voung to fly out of sight up the lake, I began to rea-
lize that it is one thing to reach a Pelican settlement and
quite another to learn something of the ways of its inhabit-
ants. In vain I crawled into crevices in the rocks or hid my-
self in caves, the adult birds would reconnoitre the ground in
some instances, but would not return to their homes and in
the end I left with only such information as could be gather-
ed from casual observation of the young and their nests.

The latter were shightly heaped mounds of dirt and peb-
bles, hollowed at the top, much like the nests found on Shoal
Lake. The young, when hatched, are ruddy flesh color and
practically naked. Shortly after birth, a snowy white down
appears, which almost completely covers the body when they
are between two and three weeks old. Unlike the Brown
Pelican, they are comparatively silent, their only note being
a low coughing, whining, grunt. Their appearance is far
from prepossessing, and is not improved by their habit of
greeting visitors with wide open mouth and snapping bill.

The desertion of the voung, without regard to age, by

THE WHITE PELICAN 379

the parents, indicates a surprising lack of parental solici-
tude. Had the old birds shown half the spirit of a Catbird
or Robin, an invasion of their homes would have been a ser-
lous affair; but their haste to make good their own escape
gave us no opportunity to cultivate their acquaintance. It

vas observed, however, that no birds still wore the knob on
the nll, while the number of these appendages scattered
about the island showed that many had been shed.

Our discovery of eight colonies or settlements of Peli-
cans on Anahao Island, where Ridgway found but one, indi-
‘ates an increase in the Pelican population during a period
when most of the larger birds of America have diminished
in numbers. White Pelicans, which invariably vanish when
man appears, have evidently, therefore, found a congenial
retreat on Pyramid Lake, and in view of the remoteness and
aridity of the region, one might imagine that they will long
continue to exist there without molestation. But, alas! civi-
lization in a form most fatal to certain species of birds, is
undermining their stronghold.

Aside from local drainage, the Truckee River is the sole
water supply of Pyramid Lake and its sister, Winnemucea
Lake. A Government Reclamation Service Project, already
well advanced, taps the Truckee on its way from Lake
Tahoe down the eastern slope of the Sierras, in order to
irrigate the Carson Valley. So much water will be taken
that only enough will be left to supply one of the two lakes
the Truckee feeds. Winnemucca is the fortunate one
while beautiful Pyramid Lake is doomed to slow death by
evaporation. As increasing alkalinity kills the delicious
trout which now abound in it, the Pelicans will be robbed of
their food. Fora time they may fish in Winnemucca, but
eventually the shoaling waters will connect their island with
the mainland, and when the requisite insular protection dis-
appears, the Pelicans must seek another island home.

Sadly enough, the same fate awaits the Pelicans which
three vears later (June 50-June 7, 1907), I visited on Lower

380 THE WHITE PELICAN

Klamath Lake, in southeastern Oregon, on the California
line. Here their island homes are made by matted rafts of
of tule reeds, often acres in extent. The eggs are laid on
the thick beds of fallen reeds with little or no attempt at
nest-building. The immediate surroundings differ radi-
eally from those which prevail on Anahao Island, but the
prune essentials of insulation and fish being present, other
details are of minor importance.

The Government Reclamation Service has condemned
this lake, not because its waters are required, but because
they are useless or, from a strictly utilitarian view, worse
than useless. When the project, now being developed, is
completed, they will have disappeared down the Klamath
River and 260,000 acres of tillable land will have taken their
place. The reed islands will strand in the mud, the tulés
will wither and alfalfa flourish in their place, the birds, like
other indigenes, will find that the Government Land Office
does not recognize a claim to ownership based only on
priority of occupation, and, with their relatives of Pyramid
Lake, they must search for a new country. Doubtless for a
time, the peculiar conditions they require, will be available,
but later they will surely be forced to migrate again, and
eventually they will doubtless have to pay the penalty of all
forms of life which cannot exist in contact with man.

The passing of so distinguished a bird occasions a regret
only shghtly tempered by the knowledge that the haunts
from which they have been driven will, in due season,
become the home of those smaller, more adaptable species
to which civilization means an increasing abundance of food
and a decreasing number of enemies.

Fifteen different groups of Pelicans, each containing
from a score to several hundred birds, were found nesting
on the rush islands of Klamath Lake. The tulés growing
about the borders of the matted open spaces they occupied,
afforded concealment for my blind and from it I finally saw
something of the Pelicans home-life at comparatively short

THE WHITE PELICAN 381

range. Although my blind had been placed in position the
day before, and was visible only as a denser growth in the
tulés, it was sometime after I entered it before the birds
ventured to return to their down covered young, huddled in
the reed beds. Some came by air, alighting with a resound-
ing fluff-fluff of their eight-feet of wing-spread; others, like

“ Alert with head erect ”

stately ships, sailed into port at a regularly frequented
landing place, but all came with much caution. My slightest
movement, although unseen, appeared to alarm them; they
seemed to feel my presence. The faint click of the camera
shutter, sixty feet distant, placed them on the alert with
head erect, and this pose was sufficient to induce birds about
to land to turn quickly about and swim back into the lake.
Finally, they became more at ease and in response to the
whining grunts of their offspring, opened their great bills,
down which the voung at once plunged their heads and
necks in search of the fish at the bottom of the parental
pouch, where the young birds would prod vigorously about
for more than a minute, the parent submitting patiently. I
never saw but one fed ata time (the Brown Pelican may

382 THE WHITE PELICAN

feed three!) and on emerging, the young bird showed none
of the signs of exhaustion which follow the young Brown
Pelican’s similar efforts at fish-getting. In the confusion
occasioned by my coming, the young Pelicans had deserted
their nests or home-sites, and become to my eyes, hopeless-
ly mixed in one compact wriggling mass; but the parent
birds evidently had no difficulty in recognizing the members
of their own family, and established their claims without
those evidences of excitement and petty quarreling so char-
acteristic of the more nervous Gulls and Terns nearby.
Their only note was a deep-voiced, not loud, murmuring
groan.

The adult birds had all lost the bill-knobs and white
nuchal crest of the nuptial season, and the latter was re-
placed by the singular black or grayish patch which is not
acquired until the breeding season is well advanced and is
lost as soon as it 1s over.

It is unnecessary to set down here all the details of the
studies made on this occasion, but one exhibition of wing-
power which these unusually stolid birds gave me should
not be omitted. Pelicans mount in broad spirals to the
upper air not only to escape from danger below, but evi-
dently for the exhilaration of the exercise; generally, there-
fore, numbers could be seen sailing serenely about, far over
head. On the afternoon in question a thunder storm devel-
oped rapidly, the sky became ominously black and threaten-
ing, anda strong wind whipped the tulés into a rustling,
troubled sea of green. This atmospheric disturbance acted
upon the soaring birds in a remarkable manner, stimulating
them to perform aérial feats of which I had no idea they
were capable. They dived from the heavens like winged
meteors, the roar of the air through their stiff pinions
sounding as though they had torn great rents in the sky.
Approaching the earth they checked their descent by an up-
shoot and then with amazing agility zig-zagged over the
marsh, darting here and there like Swallows after insects.

BL 9} 1B punorsyowV aq} Ul PATA 94} Jo [[Eq aq} UO Coy at}"0]0N
SsuUNOX Sulpaeq weoreg

384 THE WHITE PELICAN

Having now secured the requisite data, specimens and
photographs on which to base a group of White Pelicans, I
abandoned their pursuit. The following season, however,
brought me an exceptional opportunity to resume my study
of these shy birds.

Pelican Scratching its Neck

In southern Saskatchewan, whither I had gone for Wild
Geese and Grebes, I learned that the White Pelicans which
pass through the region to more northern existing resorts,
had this year remained to nest in large numbers. An unus-
ually late spring and an abnormal supply of fish supplied by
damming a stream which flowed into the lake, were evidently
the incentives which had induced the birds to remain south
of their regular nesting limit.

At least 3000 birds settled on a small mud-bar in Big
Stick Lake. A few pairs of Pelicans had been know to nest
here before, but there was no record of such a snowy gather-
ing as made the bar conspicuously white at a distance of

« SUEM YOO] [Te Laqy surddey years TILA ,,

26

386 THE WHITE PELICAN

two miles. Few pebbles and no reed-beds were available
for nesting material and most of the birds used weed-stalks,
some building a not disereditable nest, while afew found
pebbles, and others used merely a depression in the ground.
The nearby mainland offered far better nesting facilities,
but it is worthy of note that although uninspired by love of
home, not one bird failed to respond to its island-haunting
instincts.

On June 10, 1907, I drove out to this island, a method of
transportation infinitely preferable to those employed on
Shoal and Pyramid Lakes, though a mud-hole into which
horses and wagon threatened to disappear, seemed to reveal
a far better reason for the lake’s name than the big stick of
timber on which it is based. The young birds were just
appearing. Knowing that exposure to the sun at this ten-
der featherless stage is fatal, I retired from the island at
once, leaving behind a dummy blind. At this stage of the
nesting season, a bird’s parental instinct reaches its highest
development and even the undemonstrative Pelicans left
their nests with reluctance. Subsequently, however, I came
to the conclusion that their comparative tameness could pos-
sibly be attributed to the fact that the region in which they
were accustomed to nest; was so remote from man that, hav-
ing never been disturbed at this season, they had not learn-
ed to fear him.

Returning June 26, [ found the young sufficiently well
elad with down not to require the shelter of the parental
breast. The dummy blind was replaced by the actual one,
my assistant departed and I was left to enjoy a vividly
interesting and exciting experience. The parent birds
settled on the lake and swam in stately silence about the
islet. Slowly they came nearer, and with great caution made
landings here and there, advancing from all sides toward
the nests which surrounded me. At a fancied cause of
alarm, with great flapping they all took wing and in due
time the whole proceeding was repeated. But finally they

THE WHITE PELICAN 387

ventured to within twenty feet of me. As they became more
confident, the low, deep murmur of their voices increased in
volume, and seemed singularly conversational.

The struggling mass of young birds which had retreated
from me was slowly disentangled. Some were pulled at
with the bill, some were fed, and gradually peace and order
was restored; but at all times the blind was as closely
watched as a suspicious character. At last my opportunity
had come, and with note-book and camera, [ worked as
effectively as the fascination of my position permitted,
observing definitely many things half seen before and
others before unknown, and securing a series of unique pic-
tures recording a phase of bird-life which the ornithologists
of a sueceeding generation will doubtless examine with the
interest that we would give to photographs of a Great Auk
colony.

Walking Past the Blind

Only Government intervention will save the great bird
settlements of this plains region. The emigrants who are
pouring into it, confronted by primitive conditions, meet the
demands of the moment without thought of the future. A

388 THE WHITE PELICAN

ranchman whom I met, thought that when the young birds
were large enough, the Pelican inhabited island would be an
excellent place in which to fatten his hogs!

It is, therefore, greatly to be hoped that the Canadian
Government will, without delay, set aside as bird reserva-
tions, at least those islands which it still possesses, having
an area of a quarter section or less. The amount of land
thus preserved would, in the agregate, be small, but when
we recall the numbers of birds which nest only on islands, it
is obvious that the benefits to be derived from such an act
would be inealeulable.

Young Brown Pelican
Yawning

PART VIII.

IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

Selborne from the Hanger

IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

Next to our native birds, there are probably none of
more general interest to the average American nature-
lover than the birds of England. Personally, I confess that
my desire to see and hear the Nightingale, Skylark, Black-
bird, Redbreast, and other characteristic English species,
in their haunts, has been more intense than that which has
led me to the distant homes of tropical birds. I say ‘‘in
their haunts,’’ with emphasis, for | have at times with diffi-
culty avoided hearing these birds in cages; an unfortunate
enough experience in itself, and one which, having long in
mind a pilgrimage to thei home, would have deprived a
first impression of half its force.

This longing to meet English birds at home is in part
due to the fact that they live in England, in part to the place
they occupy in English literature, and in part to a desire to
compare them with our own birds.

A meeting with the same birds in France or Germany
would not possess half the charm of an initial acquaintance
in England. Nearly, if not all, that we know and have read
of English birds, leads us to associate them with pastoral
England, with copse and hedgerow, down and moor; with
thatched roof and gray spire. For these attractive mental
pictures, we have to thank Wordsworth, Shelley, Coleridge,
Cowper, and other makers of English literature, to whose
influence we must largely attribute the widespread interest
in English birds, which, until recently, at least, have been
better known by name to most Americans than have been
our commonest native species.

So far as birds are concerned, however, the poets can
only stimulate our desires without gratifying them, and the
comparison of English birds with ours is obviously out of
the question until one has seen and heard both. Even then

392 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

it cannot be fairly made by either an American of English-
man. This isnot amatter of prejudice, but of experience.
A bird’s song is not to be judged as a musical composition.
Itis an expression of nature and its significance is to be
measured by its associations.

No Englishman ean read Lovwell’s

“The Bobolink has come, and like the soul
Of a sweet season vocal in a bird,
Gurgles in ecstacy we know not what
Save June! Dear June! now God be praised for June.”

with the appreciation of the American who has grown up
with the Bobolink. Nor can Wordsworth’s lines

“O blithe new comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice.
O Cuckoo! Shall I call thee bird
Or but a wandering voice?”

bring to the American that sense of returning spring which
they doubtless convey to the Englishman.

The poets may, however, arouse the longing to see the
scenes and hear the birds which have inspired them and it
was with feelings of the keenest anticipation that I steamed
up St. George’s Channel with the unexpectedly mountainous
coast of Ireland breaking the horizon to the west. A House
Martin, which had boarded the steamer in latitude 48°,
longitude 29°, when we were still nearly 1000 miles from
land; anda pair of Wheatears and a Curlew which came
aboard 140 miles from Fastnet Light, had given us a sur-
prisingly early glimpse of British birds, and we were now
convoyed by a fleet of hungry Gulls which had joined us in
Queenstown harbor.

As we approached the coast of Wales, we encountered
small companies of Murres and Puffins, which nest in cer-
tain small rocky islets or ‘‘stacks’’ off the neighboring
shore. To the ornithologist, the presence of these boreal
birds at this season, (May 25), was convincing evidence of

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 393

high latitude, and, at the same time, an admirable illustra-
tion of the faunally composite character of English bird-
life; types we are accustomed to consider representative of
northern and southern life-zones finding in England con-
genial surroundings.

“A Curlew which came aboard ”

Scarce a week now remained of the Nightingale’s song
season, and a meeting with this most famous of feathered
musicians was made the first object of my ornithological
pilgrimage. The Nightingale is a bird of southern England,
and without loss of time we passed through Liverpool into
England, the England of the poets and birds, bound for
London to meet correspondents with news of the most ac-
cessible, singing Nightingales.

Looking back over many thousands of miles of railway
travel, I do not recall a more interesting journey than those
four hours between Liverpool and London, which gave me
my first views of English country and, incidentally, of many
English birds. Pictures, which are generally of exception-
al, rather than of typical scenes, and descriptions, I found

394 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

(and subsequent experience confirmed the opinion), had
alike failed to convey a true impression of rural England.

I had been told, England was like a great park but I
found it a farm, and a farm with a surprisingly large
acreage in pasture land. The hedge rows, too, contained
more large trees, and indeed the whole country was more
wooded than I had expected to find it. But grass and graz-
ing herds are assuredly more attractive than the best-kept
cabbage or turnip fields, and trees area glory anywhere. In
short, therefore, I found the English country less groomed
and just that much more attractive than I had anticipated.

Rooks, Starlings, Swallows, Swifts, Skylarks, Black-
birds, Thrushes, and Lapwing Plovers were the common
birds seen from the train, the latter furnishing a brand new
sensation in bird-life. The bird’s size, form, and colors, its
grace of carriage on the ground and dashing, erratic, aérial
evolutions, give it high rank as an attractive part of any
avifauna; while its abundance, in spite of the demand which
places thousands of its eggs on the market annually, is in-
explicable.

Reaching London, connections were at once established
with the the correspondents who were to present me at the
court of the Nightingale. Singing birds were reported from
Surrey and also from Cambridge, and almost before I real-
ized was in EnglandI found myself at nightfall in quiet
Surrey by-ways listening for the

“Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,”

and in time the notes of not only one, but of three birds rang
out in silvery clearness against the background of the night.
They sang for hours. I heard them when they seemed with-
in reach; and with almost equal distinctness, when I had
gone to my hedge-enclosed home a quarter of a mile across
the valley. They were said to be good singers, and I ex-
ulted in the completeness of this long-anticipated exper-
lence.

The Nightingale’s song was, of course, unlike my precon-

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 395

ceived idea of it. I had expected a rushing outpouring of
music, but I found amore deliberate song of disconnected
phrases of from three to five seconds length each, followed
by pauses of almost equal duration.

“The Nightingale, in transport, seemed to fling
His warble out, and then sit listening.”

Oceasionally a more prolonged strain was given, but, as
a whole, the song lacked the force, crescendo and diminuen-
do effects of a continuous effort. Itis a surprisingly loud
song, in tone a decided whistle; a wonderfully voluble, var-
ied, but rather hard performance. At times, a measure or
two suggested portions of the song of our nocturnal singer,
the Chat, and again some of the more rapid calls reminded
one of certain notes of the Carolina Wren, but as a whole we
have no bird whose song resembles that of the Nightingale.

Two days later, at Cambridge, hearing a Nightingale
singing in the afternoon, when its voice formed merely a
part of the spring-time chorus, I was impressed alike with
the part the bird’s nocturnal habits have played in establish-
ing its reputation as a songster and with the characteristic
insight displayed in Shakespeare’s lines:

“The Nightingale, if she should sing by day
When every Goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the Wren.”

At Cambridge, I was the guest of an English ornitholo-
gist whose home, with its surrounding acres on the Cam, af-
forded opportunities for making the acquaintance of Eng-
lish birds under exceptionally favorable conditions. Not
only could IT roam where I pleased, unquestioned, but the
quiet, pastoral beauty of the meadows, hedge-rows, fens and
winding river combined with perfect weather to make a
flawless setting for my initial impressions of English bird-
life.

Here, on May 27-29, beside the Nightingale, I met the
Song and Missel Thrushes, Blackbird, Skylark, Rook, Jack-
daw, Starling, Cuckoo, Chaffinch, Robin Redbreast, Linnet,
Wood Pigeon, Turtle-Dove, Corn Crake, Moorhen,—all

396 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

birds whose names are familiar to every English-speaking
person,—and other less-known species, thirty-six in all.

While the same amount of time, at a corresponding sea-
son, anywhere in the eastern United States would have
yielded possibly from twenty to thirty species more, individ-
ually, the English birds would outnumber ours by at least
two to one.

The Cam at Ditton Corner

Judged by the volume of its contribution to the chorus
of bird music, the Song Thrush was at this time the most
conspicuous bird. In general habits and economy, it may
be compared to our Robin, which it appears to equal in num-
bers. Its song, however, is a finer performance than that of
the American bird. It suggests that of the Brown Thrasher,
but, while it possesses greater variety and brilliancy, it is
without the deliberate rhythmic phrasing, and lacks the rich-
ness and volume which characterize the song of that bird.

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 397

Next to the Song Thrush, and in some places equalling it
im nunbers, was the Blaekbird, a Thrush duplicating our
Robin in size and form but with jet black plumage and a
golden bill, and more trim and alert in appearance. To my
ear the Blackbird is the most satisfying of Hnglish songs-
ters. Its luscious, full-flavored, mellow fluting has, ina
measure, the tender, spiritual quality so pronounced in the
voices of our Thrushes, and which I found rare in the songs
of English birds. There is, too, something naive, unformed,
quaint and simple in the Blackbird’s notes, which imereases
both the attractiveness of the song and of the songster.

The Missel Thrush, the third of the trio of common
breeding Thrushes, was now feeding nearly fledged voung
and had ceased singing, an indication of how much earlier
passerine birds nest in England than in our middle eastern
states.

In spite of an effort not to use preconceived ideals as a
standard for the actual thing, | could not conceal from my-
self a disappointment in the song of the Skylark. While
one cannot but be impressed with the passionate energy
which carries the bird hundreds of feet into the air, there to
sing, without a moment’s pause, for sometimes ten or
twelve minutes, I felt that the bird would sing better if he
did not sing so much. He sings both when exhaling and in-
haling, and seems often to be out of breath. The result isa
marvelous voeal feat surely, but the bird’s brilliant twitter-
ings and long-drawn reelings (I could think of no better
word with which to describe a marked character of its song)
did not appeal to me.

3ut one can readily imagine that the song of this exceed-
ingly abundant and widely distributed bird might become
“Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,”
and before leaving Hngland I found myself listening to it
with increasing pleasure.

398 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

The singular charm of the Cuckoo’s simple, double-noted
call, however, I at once acknowledged. Even when one hears
it for the first time, it seems to voice the deeper joys of the
life out-of-doors.

“Hach thing to its own depth was stirred,
Leaf, flower, and heaven’s moving cloud.”

There is a certain quality in the bird’s call which ap-
peals to the ear much as the peacefulness of pastoral scen-
ery affects the eye. The two-syllabled song of our own Bob-
white, though quite unlike, and far cheerier than that of the
Cuckoo, has this same power of expressing the purity and
joyous serenity of alife near to nature. The Cuckoo, al-
though it calls when flying, is far more often heard than
seen, and I found, as a rule, that English birds were much
shyer and more difficult to observe than ours, though I am
wholly at a loss to account for this apparent difference. The
Song Thrush and Redbreast were, however, exceptions.

Asa familiar doorstep bird, one would expect the Red-
breast to utter some homely little lay, resembling, for exam-
ple, that of our Chipping Sparrow. But, on the contrary, its
shrill, winding pipe and detached fragments of song seemed
to me indicative of the wildness and restlessness which char-
acterize some of the notes of the Purple Finch. The Red-
breast sings throughout the greater part of the year and it
is evident that one should hear its song during the compara-
tively silent winter season if one would understand the place
it holds in English literature and in the hearts of the Eng-
lish people.

The House, or as we miscall it, the English Sparrow,
claims with the Redbreast the privilege of doorstep bounty,
but I noted with satisfaction that he is no more a favorite at
home than he is in the country of his enforced adoption. The
Englishman, however, does not regard the bird with the re-
sentment of the American. Itisa natural part of his avi-
fauna and he is not responsible for its presence. We, on the
other hand, might have avoided a feathered race-problem
which each year becomes more serious: and it is this knew!-

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 399

Or

edge of our short-sightedness that increases our irritation.

The abundance of this omnipresent pest does not atone
for the comparatively limited number of fringilline birds in
England. Where she has eighteen species of regular oceur-
rence, we have, in a much smaller area in the east, over thir-
ty. The decrease in numbers of the Bullfinch and Goldfinch,
due to persistent trapping, leaves the Chaffinch as the best
dressed, most musical bird among the common members of
this family. One cannot wander far along an English hedge-
row without hearing the clear, metallic clink-clink of this
tastefully attired species. Its song is a bright if not highly
melodious bit of bird-music; a series of rather beady, hur-
ried, loud notes with a wren-like trill included between its
slower opening and closing bars.

Iinglish Swallows are much like ows. Their Hirundo
rustica is almost the counterpart of our Barn Swallow, their
House Martin recalls our Tree Swallow, though the birds
differ widely in nesting habits, while their Sand Martin is in
fact our Bank Swallow, the only breeding British land bird
absolutely identical with its American representative.

The English Swift, however, is a larger, and more strik-
ing bird than ours, its forked tail adding greatly to its ap-
pearance in the air; but its loud, squealing notes are no more
musical than the chattering twitter of our bird.

England has no Icterine birds, no Orioles, Grackles, or
Blackbirds, as we term them, but in place of the latter there
is the Starling, one of the most abundant if not the most
abundant British bird. One sees it everywhere and as early
as June, small flocks of young and old birds were observed,
the nuclei of those enormous gatherings which have been
been pronounced ‘‘one of the finest sights that bird-life pre-
sents in England.”’ .

The descendants of Starlings introduced into Central
Park, New York City, in 1890 now number thousands and in
view of the bird’s increasing abundance, I attempted to
learn its economic status in England; but in default of pro-

400 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

longed study of its food habits at all seasons, no satisfac-
tory, conclusive opinion of its relations to man can he
formed.

The surprising abundance of Rooks, which were every-
where almost as numerous as are our Crows in southern
New Jersey in winter, also raised the question of the posi-
tion they held in regard to the agricultural industries of the
country, but again in the absence of data, no definite answer
could be obtained.

There can be no doubt of the importance of the place
Starlings and Rooks occupy in an English landscape. Both
are resident throughout the year and in the winter their con-
spicuousness is doubtless increased.

While the English Turtle-Dove may be compared to our
Mourning Dove, we have nothing, in eastern North Amer-
ica, at least, to take the place of the splendid Wood Pigeon.
To an American, the abundance, general distribution, and in
places, tameness of so large and, doubtless, so edible a bird,
is astonishing.

They were common wherever the country was at all
wooded, and in some of the parks of London, and other
cities, they were seen walking about on the lawns as much at
home as were their dovecote relatives. It follows, then, that
the loud, throaty coo-er-coo, coo-coo of this species and the
purring notes of the Turtle-Dove were rarely wanting from
any chorus English bird song.

Even more surprising than the abundance of the Wood
Pigeon was the number of Moorhens observed. The bird is
almost a duplicate of our Florida Gallinule but I cannot con-
ceive it possible for the latter species to exist in this country
under conditions which the English bird finds favorable.
Every reedy pond and puddle has one or more pairs, they
are common in rivers when there is sufficient bordering vege-
tation to give concealment, and they nest regularly in one of
London’s most frequented parks.

While it is perhaps natural and desirable that the poets

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 401

should write of scenes and sounds which circumstances ren-
der most characteristic and conspicuous, the result, so far as
birds are concerned, is the establishment of misleading
standards and undeserved reputations. Thus, either be-
cause they were unknown or because they did not fit a theme,
some of England’s best songsters have been neglected by
the poets.

There, for example, is the Reed Warbler, whose sustain-
ed, continued song possesses a variety and volume which
makes it, to my mind, one of the most pleasing of English
song-birds; or that charming bit of bird music, the easy,
flowing, graceful, natural song of the Willow Warbler. The
Tree Pipit, too, is an exceptionally good singer, while the
wild, sweet, rapid, highly lyrical song of the Blackcap is a
performance of unusual merit, suggesting the song of our
Orchard Oriole.

But whether or not the visiting student of English bird-
life is fortunate enough to have a friend at Cambridge or in
some equally favorable locality, he should under no consid-
eration fail to make a pilgrimage to Selborne. To my mind
there is no place in England where the characteristic birds
of the country can be seen and heard to better advantage.

Five miles from a railway and the nearest town, Selborne
does not seem to have changed materially since the days of
Gilbert White. Whether as the home of White or as a bit of
rural England, Selborne more than satisfies one’s precon-
ceived ideals; although they are generally of so composite a
nature, so wrought of numberless impressions that usually
they are too far from the mark ever to be realized. But he
who cannot find in Selborne’s lanes and hedgerows, pastures
and cultivated fields, beeeh-woods and gorse, thatched roofs
and chimney pots, sturdy horses and plodding teamsters,
village and manor life, material with which to construct
every picture of English country-life he had ever imagined,
should control his imagination and develop his constructive
abilities.

27

402 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

Birds were abundant at Selborne, as indeed they were
everywhere, but the large area and varied topography of
public ground near the town, offers to the unintroduced
tourist exceptionally favorable and attractive opportunities
for observation.

But it is primarily because Selborne was the scene of Gil-
bert White’s labors, that the nature lover should go there.
The experience, too, will go far toward explaining the mar-
velous vitality of that little volume which has made its au-
thor and his home forever famous. He will find it no anti-
quated eighteenth century dissertion of purely bibliographic
value, but a useful work of reference containing information
for which he will search through other English nature books
in vain. In short, Gilbert White wrote not only the first but
the best book of its class. Need one seek better reasons for
its longevity and perennial interest?

From Selborne, I went to Winchester for a glimpse of
Isaac Walton’s haunts in the valley of the Itchen. There is a
delightful walk south of the city along a brach stream
which will lead one to the Itchen itself, flowing! peacefully
through broad meadows with hedge-bordered downs aris-
ing in the distance. Disciples of the good Isaac were dili-
gently casting the fly in waters which evidently still repay
the fisherman’s wooing; there was always one or more Sky-
larks overhead and below, Lapwings, Stone-chats, Wagtails,
Meadow Pipits and Reed Buntings. Doubtless also there
were Sedge and Reed Warblers, but I did not see them.

Winchester brings one within easy reach of the New For-
est, one of the places which no naturalist visiting England
should fail to see. From the time of William the Conqueror,
the New Forest has been a royal preserve and it is to-day
one of the few places in England where the tourist may find
comparatively primeval conditions. Birds which have be-
come rare or have been extirpated in other parts of south-
ern England, may still be found in favorable places in this
Government reservation.

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 403

I went to Holmesley and drove thence, through Burley,
to Picket Post, lodging at an isolated tea-house in the midst
of the gorse-covered moors,—the home of the Dartford
Warbler. Nearby, was a bit of the original forest growth,
which doubtless covered a large part of the country at the
time of the Norman invasion. Here are magnificent patri-
archal beeches, not one, but every tree of exceptional beauty
and dignity. The mossy ground beneath, decorated with hy-

Beeches in the New Forest

acinth, wood sorrel, and veronica, was as free from under-
growth asa lawn, and stretched away beneath the gray
limbs and green leaves, into enchanted glades and aisles,
from which one would not have been surprised to see Robin
Hood and his merry men step forth at any moment. Never
have I seen a more inviting woodland.

One may drive north through the forest to Salisbury
where, on the surrounding plains, he will not be out of hear-

404 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

ing of Skylarks throughout the long English day.

From Salisbury, I went to Oxford and thence to Strat-
ford and Warwick, and in each place the bird student may
pursue his investigations amid charming surroundings. Of
the coincident historical and literary associations, it is un-
necessary to speak.

At Oxford, Addison’s Walk, in the grounds about Mag-
dalene College, give the stranger access to most attractive
and secluded retreats; while at Warwick he is permitted a
near view of a castle which will show him Jackdaws, Rooks,
Starlings, and Wood Doves in the setting where literature
so frequently places them.

At Stratford, he may sit in the churchyard and see the
Rooks at their nests overhead while the Moorhens disport
themselves in rushes of the bordering Avon; and if he will
cross the river and follow the north shore about half a mile,
he will come to a fringe of woodland on a bank so steep, that
the tops of trees growing from the shore below, will be ona
level with his head. From the narrow, picturesque path-
way, one therefore has the upper branches within reach of
one hand, while with the other he may touch the lower
growth, conditions which bring a rather unusual assemblage
of birds within easy range.

Here, ona rainy morning (June 11), I saw in ‘‘one
look,’’? a Nightingale with food for her young, Bullfinch,
Song Thrush, Willow Wren, Wren, White-throat, Hedge
Sparrow, Chaffinch, Blue-tit, Long-tail Tit, Spotted Fly-
catcher, Blackeap, Blackbird, and Chiff-chaff. Swallows,
House and Bank Martins and Swifts were constantly dash-
ing up and down over the river, and from near-by rolling
fields came the song of the Skylark, a total of nineteen spe-
cies seen or heard at virtually the same moment.

Under no circumstances should the bird-lover leave Eng-
land without a visit to some point on the coast or near-by
islets frequented by nesting Murres, Puffins and Razor-bills.
Doubtless in no part of the world can he so easily reach the

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 405

Bird-egging on Bempton Cliffs

About 130,000 Murres’ eggs are gathered here yearly. A ‘“climmer” may be seen
on the face of the cliff

haunts of these boreal water-fowl. They may be found in fa-
vorable localities, from the Scilly Islands to the Hebrides,
but a variety of circumstances led me to the Bempton Cliffs
at Flamborough Head in Yorkshire, the Farne Islands, off
the Northumberland coast, and Bass Rock, in the Firth of
Forth ,and I am assured that no ornithological pilgrim will
go far from the Mecca of his hope if he follows this route.
At the Bempton Cliffs, which may be reached from Brid-
lington, one may see the men go down the precipitous chalk-
headlands, from three to four hundred feet, on a rope, to
gather Murres’ eggs, while their mates, three to the gang,
with heels dug into oft-used hollows, stolidly lower or raise,

406 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

in response to pulls on the signal line from the unseen
‘‘climmer’’ below. This is a long-established profession
about which hang many quaint usages.

At Bempton, the tourist, unless he be possessed of suf-
ficient nerve to ‘‘try the ropes,’’ must content himself with a
view of the birds from above, but at the Farnes, if the sea

|
|
|
i
|
|
|

The Pinnacles in the Farne Islands

The succeeding picture shows the Murres on the summit of the Pinnacles
at the right.

permits, he may land on low islands populated with a myr-
iad of sea-fowl, among whose homes he may walk at ease,
while a very little caution will place him on speaking terms
with Murres, Puffins, Arctic and Sandwich Terns, Kitti-
wakes, Lesser Black-backed Gulls, Cormorants, and, best of
all, Hider Ducks.

The Farnes is the most southern British breeding
station of this widely read of but little known bird and I
count as perhaps the most memorable of my ornithological
experiences in England the privilege of stroking a wild
Eider, as she sat upon her eggs within their half-seen circlet
of down. She turned and pecked my finger gently, almost
caressingly, I thought.

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408 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

Lesser Black-back Gulls

The Farnes will be recalled as the home of St. Cuthbert
and the scene of Grace Darling’s heroism and a connecting
historical note is supplied by one of the bird wardens, Jack
Darling, a nephew of the light-keeper’s famous daughter.

Bass Rock, too, has its history as a prison for Dissenters
and as the one Scottish stronghold not captured by the
Cromwellians, but to the bird student it is known chiefly as
the original home, in scientific nomenclature at any rate, of
the Gannet or Solan Goose, which Linneus named Sula bas-
sana, under the impression that this splendid bird inhabited
only the Bass. Asa matter of fact, it is found in only about
a dozen islets in Great Britain, and two in America.

Ten thousand Gannets, it is said, nest on the Bass to-day
and so tame are they that the visitor who does not mind
looking down 450 feet of sheer cliff, may readily eclimh

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 409

among them, selecting such groups for his camera as taste
dictates. Nota bird will refuse hima sitting. Itis a wild
scene but would be far more impressive if it were not so eas-
ily reached. But the very accessibility which places the
Rock (by way of North Berwick and Cantey Bay) within
two hours of Edinburgh commends it to the hurried trav-
eler. At the same time, one may visit the ruins of Tantallon

Puffins

Castle on the adjoining mainland and in this shattered but
noble old stronghold of the Douglasses, find again the his-
torical setting which adds so much to the charm of bird
study in England; or, to speak more strictly, in Great Brit-
ain; for we have crossed the border line into Scotland and
are now within an hour or two of a country differing mark-
edly in topography and, to a lesser degree, in bird-life from
anything we have seen to the southward.

I must resist, however, the temptation to tell of Red
Grouse, Black Cock and Ptarmigan, Wheatears, Rock
Thrushes and Golden Plover, but no bird-lover should resist
the temptation to visit the haunts of these birds amid the
lochs and heather-grown moors of the Highlands.

410 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

While my very limited experience does not warrant gen-
eralization in regard to the attractiveness and musical abil-
ity of English birds as compared with ours, there can be no
question concerning their greater abundance. Everywhere
I was impressed with the truth of this observation, and I
cannot conclude this article without some attempt to inquire
into the causes underlying this marked numerical dif-
ference.

A Sitting Hider (Somateria molissima)
Note the circlet of down about the nest

We have, as I have before remarked, a larger number of
species, and in our northern states, birds are more rigidly
protected than they are in England, where bird-nesting is
universal and bird-trapping locally countenanced.

A variety of factors seem to have operated in producing
the results now so noticeable to an American. The most fun-
damental and far-reaching in its influence appears to lie in
the fact that English birds are less migratory, as a whole,

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

A “Watcher” stroking an Hider on Her Nest

Eider on Nest

412 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

than ours, and are, consequently, not exposed to the dangers
which beset birds making extended journeys in part over
large bodies of water. Furthermore, those that remain in
England throughout the year have not to contend with the
severe winters which so often bring disaster to our perman-
ently resident birds.

Bass Rock from the Mainland
In!the foreground a flock of Eiders; with a male on shore in breeding plumage

The importance of this suggestion is emphasized when it
is expressed in figures. Thus, the list of birds of regular oc-
currence in Great Britain, numbers about 225, of which no
less than 134 are, as species or individuals, permanently res-
ident; while the list of birds recorded from within a radius
of 50 miles of New York City, exclusive of ‘accidental’ spe-
cies, is 310, of which only 35 are permanently resident.

It is also of first importance to observe that the abundant
British birds of to-day, the conspicuous successes in bird-
life, are admirable illustrations of the rigid sifting effects of

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 413

conditions so severe that only the fittest survive. The list of
birds which, as British, are extinct or nearly so, is a large
one and includes the Spoonbill, Avocet, Bustard, Kite,
Marsh Harrier, Osprey, Capereallie (re-introduced), Crane,
Chough and other species.

Gannets on the Bass

In every instance these birds have succumbed to civiliza-
tion in one or more of its aggressive forms, as it has de-
stroyed forests, drained marshes, killed for sport or collect-
ed for alleged scientific purposes.

Other species, for example Hawks, Jays and Magpies,
supposed to be harmful to game-birds or their eggs, have
greatly decreased or disappeared before the constant per-
secution of the game keeper. I saw but four Hawks, three

414 ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE

Nesting Gannets

Jays and two Magpies while in England, and most of these
were in the New Forest.

Still other species, like the Bullfinch and Goldfinch, have
diminished through the excessive demonstration of that
abortive love of birds which condemns them to captivity
and, usually, early death.

On the other hand, many of the acts which have brought
destruction to the species mentioned have created an excep-
tionally favorable environment for birds like the House
Sparrow, Starling, Song Thrush, Blackbird, and Skylark,
which, through man’s agency, find some of their natural ene-
mies removed, their supply of food increased, and their
available breeding area widened.

In America, virtually all our most abundant, widely dis-
tributed species, winter in the United States and hence are
not exposed to those destructive agencies which beset birds
migrating over seas. However, leaving out of consideration

ENGLISH BIRD-LIFE 415

this cause of high mortality and that occasioned by winter
storms, environmental conditions in America are too unset-
tled or at best are too recently settled for us to have witness-
ed that essentially final adjustment between he bird and the
sum total of its surroundings, such as we observe in Eng-
land.

Our Robin, or Migratory Thrush, as our English cousins
call it, appears, however, to have established satisfactory
relations with the world as it finds it and is as preéminently
a success in bird-life as its English representative, the Song
Thrush.

Let us hope that with other species, also, we may be able
so to control the selective and determining processes which
are now shaping the America of succeeding generations,
that those who come after us will lose no part of their rich
heritage in bird-life.

oung Flamingo

Yy

INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS

ARIZONA, Group
desert of, 243.

Auklet, Cassin’s, in Farallones, 284.

Avocet in Los Banos group, 291.

showing cactus

Bass Rock, from mainland, 412.
Gannets on, 413, 414.

Bates’ Hole, Eagle’s nest in, 240.
Our outfit in, 228, 238.

Beebe, C. William, at Fireplace,
40,

Bent, A. €, on “Pearl,” number
one from right, 137.

Blackbird, Yellow-headed, feeding

young, 3381.
Blind, among Egrets, 127.
among Pelicans, 87.
among Water Turkeys, 115.
and Blue Jay’s nest, 7.
and Flamingos, 174, 180.
in Man-o’-War Bird colony, 218.
Booby and nest, 213.
colony, 210.
family, 211, 215.
in flight, 216.
picks up sticks, 212.
Young of, 210, 211,
215.
Burroughs, John,
mer’s nest, 23.

examining Hum-

Cactus, Barrel,near Santa Catalina
Mts., 250.
Giant, and Santa Catalina Mts.,
226.

California, Group of birds at Los
Banos, 291.
Camp at Shoal

316,

in Florida, 114.

in Ptarmigan Pass, 358.

in Sierras, 309.

near Flamingos, 173.

on Cay Verde, 206.

on Pelican Reef, 374.
Cay Verde, Camp on, 206.
28

Lake, Manitoba,

“Climmer” on Bempton Cliffs, 405.
Condor, Nest-site of, on Piru Creek,
Calif., 260.
Coot, Eggs, nest, and young of, 332.
Cormorant, Brandt’s, at Point Lo-
bos, Calif., 272.
gathering nest material, 271.
Portrait of, 273.
Telephoto of, 281.
Cormorant, Double crested, on
Shoal Lake, 314.
Young of, 335.
Cormorant, Farallone, on Klamath
Lake, 298, 302.
Curlew aboard ship, 3938.
Curlew, Long-billed, Young of, 342.
Cuthbert Rookery, Birds in, 142,
143, 147.
Route to, 139.
Cypress, Flooded, 127.

DIPPER near Glacier, B. C., 353.
Nest of, 354,

Dove, Mourning, in cactus desert
group, 243.
on nest in cactus, 248.
Dove, Scaled, in cactus desert

group, 243,
Duck, Fulvous Tree, in Los Banos
group, 291.

EAGLE, Golden, Nest-site of, 240.
Egret, American, after feeding,
133.
feeding young, 132.
flying, 128, 129.
Nesting-sites of, 127.
perching, 130, 131.
Young of, 78, 132, 133.
Egret, Snowy, in Cuthbert Rook-
ery, 142.
Hider in Farne Islands, 410.
near Bass Rock, 412.
stroking on nest, 411.
England, Beeches in New Forest,
403.

418

England,
Bempton Cliffs, Egging on, 405.
Cam at Ditton Corner, 396.
Farne Islands, Pinnacles in,
406, 407.
Selborne, View from Hanger,
390.
Estrella, The, aground, 162.
Crew of, 158.

FARALLONES, Landing-place in, 275
Finch, House, in cactus desert
group, 243.
Fireplace, Signal at, 40.
Flamingo, alarmed, 177.
and young, 150.
asleep, 175.
Blind among,
brooding, 185.
Deserted city of, 160, 172.
Eggs of, 172.
feeding young, 185.
flying, 171, 176.
on nests, 178, 182.
Painting of, 158.
walking, 181.
Young, 150, 183, 184, 185, 186,
187, 188, 189.
Flicker leaving nest, 27.

Forest in Glen Alpine, Calif., 307.
on Gardiner’s Island, 34.
Fuertes, L. A., and Ptarmigan,

364.

and young Geese, 344.

in camp at Ptarmigan Pass,
358,

in camp at Silver Creek, 309.

on “Pearl’, number two from
left, 187.

on trail to Ptarmigan Pass,
356.

painting Flamingo, 158.

174, 180.

GANNETS on Bass Rock, 4138, 414.
Gloria, The, 163.
Goose, Wild, on
296.
Young of, 344,
Grackle, Nest of,
nest, 52.
Group, Cactus desert, 243.
of Brown Pelicans, 110.
of Cobb’s Island birds, 62.

Klamath Lake,

in Fish Hawk’s

INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS

Group, of Los Banos birds, 291.
of Prairie Hens, 233.
Guillemots in Farallones, 282.
Gull, California, in Saskatchewan,
345, 347.
Gull, Lesser Black-back, in Farne
Islands, 408.
Gull, Laughing, Egg of, 75.
on nest, 73, 74.
Young of, 75.
Gull, Ring-billed, in Saskatchewan,
345, 347,
Young of, 348.
on Klamath Lake, 300.
Gull, Western, on nest in Faral-
lones, 280.
on wing in Farallones, 279.

Hawk, FISH, approaching nest, 56.
feeding young, 53.
leaving nest, 57.

Nests of, 50, 58.
Young, 58, 54, 55, 58, 61.

Heron, Black - crowned

Young of, 334.
Heron, Yellow-crowned
Bahamas, 209,
Heron, Florida Great
proaching nest, 120.
feeding young, 121.
Young of, 120, 121.

Heron, Little Blue, on nest, 125.

Heron, Louisiana, on nest, 126.
posing, 1438.

Heron, Great Blue, at Los Banos,

Calif., 293.

Young of, on Klamath Lake,
303.
Hummingbird,
nest, 19,
before flower, 26.

brooding, 24.
feeding young, 25.

Night,
Night, in

Blue, ap-

Ruby-throated, at

Jay, BLUE, after feeding young, 2.
alarmed by Owl, 11.
inspecting Owl, 10.
Young, nesting, 12.
Young, calling, 13.

KILLDEER in Los Banos Groups, 291.
Kittiwake in Farne Islands, 407.

INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS

LAKE, BONNET, in Florida, 115.
Lloyd, F. E., and barrel cactus,
250.
MacDougau, D. T., driving, 226.
Mallard in Los Banos group, 291.
Man-o’-War Bird, Colony of, 218.
Female with young, 220.
Young of, 218, 219, 220.
Meadowlark, alert, 17.
inspecting nest, 18.
Merriam, C. Hart, in Glen Alpine
forest, 306,
Murres in cave in Farallones, 277.
in Farne Islands, 407.
Telephoto of, in Farallones,

276.

NIGHTHAWK, and young, 29.
feigning lame, 30.
perching, 31, 32.

Nighthawk, Texas, in

ert group, 243.

Noddy, flying, 196.
on nest, 194.
on rocks, 193.

eactus des-

OUTFIT, OUR, leaving Potrero,Ven-
tura Co., Calif., 262.

Owl, Burrowing, at
Calif., 287.

Los’ Banos,

‘*PEARL,’’ Crew of, 137.

Pelican, Brown, Breeding and non-
breeding plumage of, compared,
89.

Colony of, 87.

feeding, Young, 97, 99,
104.

flying, 87, 91, 105, 106.

incubating, 87, 93.

looking ,for young, 109.

Nest-relief of, 95.

preening, 110.

yawning, 107, 3388.

Young, after feeding, 100, 103,
104.

Young of, 97, 104, 388.

Pelican Island, General views, 87,
91, 110.

Group of, 110.

101,

419

Pelican, White, feeding young, 383.
in Saskatchewan, 312, 369,
383, 385, 387.
Nest and eggs of, 375.
on Klamath Lake, 381.
on Pyramid Lake, 377.
scratching, 384.
soaring, 369,
taking flight, 385.
Peter, guide, 166.
Phainopepla in cactus desert group,
243.
Phalarope at Monterey, 268.
feeding, 269.
in search of feeding-place, 270.
Pheasant, English, on nest, 43.
heebe, Nesting-sites of, 21.
on nest, 22.
Physalia, The, 201.
Pipit, American, on nest, 359.
Prairie Hen, Group of, 233,
Ptarmigan, White-tailed, in Cana-
dian Rockies, 360-366.
on nest, 363-365.
walking in water, 362.
Puffin in Farne Islands, 409.
Puffin, Tufted, in Farallones, 2838.

QUAIL, GAMBEL’S, in cactus desert
group, 2438,

Quail, Scaled, in
group, 243.

cactus desert

Repwoops in Armstrong Grove,
Sonoma Co., Calif., 252.

Roadrunner in cactus desert group,
243,

SANDPIPER, BARTRAM’S,
341,
Selborne, View of,
390.
Seton, Ernest Thompson, attack-
ed by Black Tern, 326, 327.
in camp at Shoal Lake, 316.
Shearwater, Audubon’s, leaving
nest, 199,
Young of, 198.
Skimmer, Black, Eggs of, 70, 71.
flying, 62, 65, 67.
on nest, 62, 68, 69, 76.
Young of, 69, 70, 71.

on nest,

from Hanger,

420

Spoonbill, Roseate, flying, 148.
perching, 147.
Stilt, Black-necked, in

group, 291.
on nest, 289.
Young of, 290.

Los Banos

TANAGER, SCARLET, at nest, 28.
Teal, Blue-wing, Nest of, as cover-
ed by bird, 322.
the cover raised, 323,
Teal, Cinnamon, in Los
group, 291.
Tern, Black, attacking, 326, 327.
brooding, 328.
in Los Banos group, 291.
incubating, 324.
on Shoal Lake, Man., 349.
Young of, 329.
Tern, Caspian, on Klamath Lake,
301, 302.
Tern, Common, in
group, 62,
on Gardiner’s Island, 44, 45.
Tern, Gull-billed, on nest, 72.
Tern, Least, in Cobb’s
group, 62.

Banos

Cobb’s Island

Island

INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS

Tern, Sooty, flying, 154, 197.
sitting, 195.

Thrasher, Brown, on nest, 4.

Thrasher, Palmer’s, at nest, 247.
near nest, 246.

Trail to Ptarmigan Pass, 356.

Turkey, Water, and nest, 117.
posing, 122.

VIREO, WARBLING, incubating, 319.
singing on nest, 319.
Vulture, Black, eating young Peli-
can, 110,
on burro, 264.
Vulture, Turkey, roosting, 266.

WIDMANN, Oro, at Hesperia,Calif.,

257

Wren, Cactus, in cactus desert
group, 2438.

Wren, Long-billed Marsh, at nest,
io |

Wren, Rock, in Farallones, 285.

Yucca, Tree, at Hesperia, Calif.,

257.

INDEX TO TEXT

AGUA BLANCA, creek, 261.
Aigrettes, Price of, 136.
Alpine spring in Canadian Rockies,
356.
Anahao Island, Pelicans on, 378.
Andros Island, Flamingos on, 158,
170.
Uncharted bight through, 170.
Voyage to, 157.
Anhinga, Habits of, 114.
Antilles, Greater, Preserving in-
fluences of, 37.
Ardea wuerdmanni
Clive Key, 137.
Arizona, Tucson, Birds seen near,
243.
Yuma, 257.
Atmosphere, Dryness
zona, 237.
Audubon Societies, National Asso-
ciation of, 84, 134.
Auk, Great, in Florida, 81.
Auklet, Cassin’s, in Farallones, 282.
Notes of, 283.
Australia, Preserving influences of,
Bl;
Avocet, Actions of, 289.
in San Joaquin Valley, 289.
Young of, 290.

nesting on

of, in Ari-

BaHAMA Banks, Character of, 201.
Lack of life on, 202.
Bahama bird-life, 151-224.
Bahamas, Birds of, in Florida, 79.
Evolution in, 32.
Extent of, 152.
Formation of, 151.
Basin, Great, in California, 255.
Bass Rock visited, 408.
Bates’ Hole, Wyo. visited, 235,
Bay Cedar in Bahamas, 152.
Baynton’s ranch on Big Stick Lake,
342,
Bempton Cliffs,
egging on, 405.

239.

England, Bird-

Bent, A. C., on Cuthbert Rookery,
136. ¥
on birds of Saskatchewan, 339,
348,
Trip with, 136.
Beswick, Birds abundant at, 294.
Bill of Skimmer, 72, 74.
Bird islands of Atlantic coast, 35.
Bird-life, Adjustment of, to envir-
onment, 415.
affected by irrigation, 286, 293.
of England and America com-
pared, 396, 398, 399, 410-415.
of Shoal Lake, Man., and Ma-
ple Creek, Sask., compared,
338-339,
Bird-nesting, Pleasures of, 20, 21.
Birds, Attitude of, toward blind, 55.
English, shyer than American,
398.
Decrease of, 38.
Destruction of, 81, 82, 304.
Bird student, Local opportunities
of, 3, 333.
Blackbird, English, Abundance of,
414.
Song of, 397.
Blackbird, Yellow-headed, Nesting
habits of, 333.
Song of, 318.
Blackcap, Song of, 401.
Blake, Sir Henry, Studies of Fla-
mingo by, 156.
Blind, and Blue Jays, 7.
and Brown Pelicans, 90.
avd Caspian Terns, 301.
and Egrets, 132.
and Fish Hawks, 55.
and Flamingos, 174, 178, 184.
and Florida Great Blue Her-
ons, 119.
and Grackle, 320.
and Meadowlark, 16.
and Prairie Hens, 232.

422

Blind and Ring-4billed and California
Gulls, 299.
and Skimmers, 69.
and Water Turkeys, 116.
and White Pelicans, 380, 386.
in Cuthbert Rookery, 143.
Meadowlark sings from, 325.
Bobolink in Wyoming, 241.
Bohlman, H. T. See Finley, W. L.
Bonhote, J. Lewis, in Bahamas,
156.
“Bonnets” on Florida Lakes, 115.
Booby, Area of home-site of, 213.
Daily routine of, 211.
Excitement of, when approach-
ed on nest, 212.
in Bahamas, 200-224,
in Florida, 210.
laying two eggs but having
only one young, 214, 215.
Nest of, 214.
resents trespass, 213.
robbed by Man-o’-War
212.
Sleeping habits of, 207.
tame near nest, shy away from
it, 212.
Young of, 214, 216.

Bradley, Guy, warden of Cuthbert
Rookery, 136.
Bruner, Lawrence,

227.
Bryant, Henry, on Bahama birds,
208.
Researches of, 83.
Bufflehead, flightless
ing, 296.
Bullfinch, in England, 399.
Bunting, Lark, Song of, 340.
Burroughs, John, Bird-nesting with,
20,

Bird,

Assisted by,

when molt-

Cactus, Barrel, 248.
desert bird-life, 242.
Giant, home of birds

zona, 244,

California, Bird studies in, 253.
Climates of, 253, 254, 256.
Differentiation of birds ‘in,
Farallones, Birds seen in,
Hesperia, Morning at, 258.
Highest mountains in, 253,
Length of, 2538.

in Ari-

on
ars

bo bo
“1¢

INDEX TO TEXT

California, Los Banos, Birds seen
at, 286.
Lower Klamath
seen on, 294.
Lowest altitude in, 253.
Monterey, Bird studies at, 267,
273.
Piru, Birds seen at, 259-266.
Sierras, Birds seen in, 305.
Topography of, 253-256.
Callichelidon cyaneoviridis in Ba-
hamas, 153.
Cambridge, England, Birds seen at,
395.
Camera. Value of, in bird study, 5.
Camp at Shoal Lake, 316, 318.
destroyed by fire, 122.
in Pima Canon, 248.
in Ptarmigan Pass, 356.
near Flamingos, 170.
near seven mile slough, 114.
on Cay Verde, 206.
on Silver Creek, 310.
Canada, Western, Bird-life of, 313.
Canadian Government, Responsi-
bility of, as a bird protector, 387.
Canadian Rockies, Bird-life in, 350.
Candle-bush in Arizona, 244.
Catbird, Singing, in Bahamas, 202.
Cat Cay, Birds seen on, 224.
Cats, Absence of, on Gardiner’s
Island, 39.
on Cobb’s Island, 74.
Cay Verde, Birds of, 205, 224.
Description cf, 207.
Cereus giganteus in Arizona, 244.
Cerithium, fcod of Flamingo, 155,
189.
Chaffinch, Song of, 399.
Chapman, Abel, Studies of Flamin-
go by, 156.
Chickadee, Mountain,
Lake Tahoe, 305.
Chipmunk, Absence of, on
ner’s Island, 39.
Climatic changes,
in California, 286.
Coast Range in California, 255.
Cobb’s Island, Bird-life of, 63.
Colonial birds, Location of nest of,

95
oo.

Lake, Birds

nesting at
Gardi-

Suddenness of,

INDEX TO TEXT

Coloration contradictory in Long-
spurs and Shore Lark, 340.
of young Skimmer, 68.
protective, 30, 235, 358.
Condor, California, Appearance of,
on the wing, 263.
Nest sites of, 261.
Seven, seen at once, 263,
Wariness of, 264, 265.
Connecticut, Stevenson,
Nighthawk at, 29.

Coot in San Joaquin Valley, 292.
impaled on barbed wire, 292.
Nest-site of, 292.

Cormorant, Baird’s,

281.
Cormorant, Brandt’s, in Farallones,
281.
nesting at Monterey, 272.
Cormorants, Double-crested, on
Shoal Lake, 335.
Cormorant, Farallone, on Klamath
Lake, 299, 304.

Coyote in Arizona, 249.
in California, 260.

Cox, Walter, Background by, 62.

Crane, Sandhill, Former abundance

of, in New England, 38.
Range of, 80.

Creeper, Honey, in Bahamas, 152.
nesting in Bahamas, 202.

Creosote bush in Arizona, 248.
in California, 256.

Crow, Clarke’s, at Monterey, 268.

Crow, Fish, devouring eggs, 118,

145.
Crow, Florida, devouring eggs, 145.

Study of

in Farallones,

Crow, Robbery by, not resented,
145.
roosting on Gardiner’s Island,
60.

Cuckoo, Call of, 398.

Curlew aboard ship, 392.

Cypress forest, Beauty of, 126.
nesting-site of Herons, 127.

DAHLGREN,B. E., Dr., in Bahamas,
169,

Day, Length of, in Canada, 321.

Denslow, H. C., Birds mounted by,
62, 233, 244.

Desert, Mohave, Morning in, 258.

423

Dipper, Nesting habits of, in Cana-
dian Rockies, 353.
Dove, Ground, in Bahamas, 152.
Dove, Turtle, Notes of, 400.
Dove, White-winged, Notes of, in
Arizona, 244, 248, 249.
Duck, Black, nesting on Gardiner’s
Island, 36, 46.
Duck, Fulvous Tree, in San
quin Valley, 292.
Notes of, 292.
Pose of, 292.
Range of, 292.
Duck, Harlequin, at Monterey, 268.
Duck, Ruddy, Actions of, 346.

Joa-

EAGLE, Bald, Nesting in Man-o’-
War Key, 137.
Eagle, Golden,
236,
Egg-birds in Bahamas, 152, 192.
Egeg-shell removed by Skimmer, 71.
Eggs, Murre’s, as food, 276, 277.
EKeggs, Smaller number of, laid by
southern birds, 198.
Egret, American, Actions of young
of, 134.
Destruction of, 124.
Feeding young of, 134.
in Cuthbert Rookery, 141.
Nesting habits of, 128-134.
Nests of, 142, 145.
Notes of, 138, 134.
Rookery flight of, 124.
Shyness of, 146.
egret, “Little White”, formerly on
Pelican Island, 83.
Egret, “Peale’s”’, formerly on Peli-
can Island, 83.
Egret, Reddish, in Bahamas, 169.
in Snake Bight, Florida, 139.
Egret, Rufous, formerly on Pelican
Island, 83.
Egret, Snowy, less shy than Ameri-
can Egret, 146.
in Cuthbert Rookery, 135, 141.
Hider, nesting in Farne Islands,
406.
United States colony cf, 36.
England, Bird-life of, 391-415.
Faunal Affinities of, 393.

Story cf nest of,

424

English birds, Interest in, 391.
Landscape impressions of, 393.
Environment, Direct action of, on
birds’ colors, 257.
mold for habits, 37.
Equilibrium in flight maintained
automatically, 197.
“Estrella,” The, Cruise in, 158-162.
Evaporation, Rapidity of, in Ari-
zona, 237.
Evolution through insular environ-
ment, 37.

FARALLONES, Birds of, 274.
History of, 274.
Picturesqueness of, 274, 275.
Possibilities of bird study in,

284.

Farne Islands,

406-408.
Figgins, J. D., on Western trip, 227.
Finch, Rosy Snow, in Canadian
Rockies, 357, 361.

Finch, Seaside, on Cobb’s Island, 63.

Finch, Snow, Distribution of, 357.
descending below’ timberline

in summer, 357.
Finley, W. L., Researches of, on
Klamath Lake, 294.
Studies of California Condor
by, 265.
Fireplace, Signal at, 39.
Fisher, Walter K., on birds of Lay-
san, 216.
See Price, W. W.

Flamingo, Appearance of, 170.

City of, deserted, 158, 159.
Colony of, Arrival at, 170.
Comparative size of, 155.
Destruction of, 191.

Egg of, 173.

Feeding habits of, 190.
First.one killed, 157.
Flight of, 181.

Food of, 155.

Former distribution of, 155.
in Bahamas, 154-191.
incubating, 179, 180.

Law protecting, 191.

Nest building of, 159, 179.
Nests of, 159, 179, 191.
Notes of, 170.
recognizing nest, 175.

England, Birds of,

INDEX TO TEXT

Flamingo, Return of, to rookery,
178, 179.

Rookery of, destroyed by rain,
168.

Search for, 163.

Shyness of, 159.

straddling nest, Myth of, 156.

Young of, Appearance of, at

birth. 185.

eating egeg-shell, 189.

Feeding of, 187.

Growth of bill of, 189.

Return to nest by, 186.
Flicker, Manner of leaving nest of,

97

ys
Flight of Terns, 197.
Flocking impulse, 88.
Florida, Bird-life of, 79.
Defiance of bird law in, 82.
Destruction of birds in, 81, 82.
Florida, Flamingo, 135.
Fort Capron, 113.
Mecca for ornithologists. 79.
Ormond, 81.
Pelican Island, 36, 83.
St. John’s River, Boobies seen
at mouth of, 210.
St. Lucie, 113.

Flycatcher, Olive-sided, Call of,
305.
Forest, Eastern extension of, in

western Nebraska, 229.
Growth in New, 403.
in California, 253, 256, 267.
in Wyoming, 239.
Westward extension of, in
eastern Nebraska, 229.
Fox, Absence of, on Gardiner’s
Island, 39.
Fuertes, Louis, At Pyramid Lake
with, 376.
discovers nests of Pipit and
Ptarmigan, 364.
In Bahamas with, 156.
In Saskatchewan with, 338.
In Sierras with, 310.
on trip to Los Banos, 286.
Trip with, to Cuthbert Rook-
ery, 136.

GADWALL, Mating flight of, 346.
Gannet, American colonies of, 36.
on Bass Rock, 408.

INDEX TO TEXT

Gardiner’s Island, Bird-life of, 38.
Glacial Period, Influence of, on dis-
tribution of birds, 81, 357, 368.

“Gloria,” The, Cruise in, 164.
Goldfinch, European, Trapping of,
in England, 399.
Goldfinch in California, 258.
Goose, Wild, flightless when molt-
ing, 296.
Young of, domesticated, 343.
Grackle, Bronzed, Method of feed-
ing young of, 320.
nesting on ground, 320,
Grebe, Eared, Probable call of, 346.

Grebe, Holbecell’s, covering eggs,
329.
Grebe-hunter on Klamath Lake,

302-304. ‘
Grebe, Pied-billed, Call of, 321-331.
Grebe, Western, Actions of young

of, 331.

Appearance of,
Call of, 321.
Destruction of, for
302, 303.
Feather-eating habits of, 332.
Mating habits of, 330.
on Klamath Lake, 302.
Shyness of, 349.
Gregariousness, Influence of, on

nest location, 35.

Grey-Wilson, Sir William, Governor
of Bahamas, Courtesy of, 200.
Grosbeak, Evening, in Sierras, 310.

Grosbeak, Pine, in Sierras, 310.
Group of Cactus desert birds, 243,

249, 250.
Groups, Story

22.

Grouse, Blue, in the Sierras, 308.
Grouse, Sharp-tail, at Halsey, Neb.,

230.

Guano deposit in Bahamas, 208.
Guillemots in Farallones, 281.
Gull, California, in Saskatchewan,

344.

on Klamath Lake, 299.
Gull, Franklin’s, feeding on grass-

hoppers, 320.

Flight of, 346.
following plow, 320.
Gull, Herring, on Gardiner’s Island

in summer, 46.

330.

milliners,

of three western,

425

Gull, Laughing, on Cobb’s, 63, 75.
Young of, 75.
Gull, Ring-billed, in Saskatchewan,
344,
on Klamath Lake, 299.
Gull, Western, eating eggs, 278-280.
in Farallones, 278-281.
Gulls, Calls of, 299, 345.
Gunn, Donald, at Shoal Lake, 317.

Habits, the result of environment,
37.
Haigh, Mr., of Cat Cay, 223.
Hawk, Duck, on Cay Verde, 209,
Hawk, Fish, Attitude of, toward
blind, 58.
attacking Herons, 47.
Behavior of young of, 53, 54.
Date of arrival and departure
of, on Gardiner’s Island, 48.
Date of hatching of, 52.
Date of laying of, 52.
defending nest, 52.
Food of young of, 53.
Notes of, 58, 59.
Number of, on Gardiner’s Isl-
and, 47.
repairing nest, 48.
Return of, to same nest, 48, 52.
Time in nest of young of, 52.
Variations in nest-site of, 48,
49, 50.
Hawks absent during summer from
Gardiner’s Island, 39.
Hen, Heath, on Martha’s Vineyard,
36.
Hen, Prairie at Halsey, Neb., 231.
are females present when
males “boom”? 235.
fighting, 234.
Notes of, 232.
protectively colored, 235.
Sexual display by, 234.
Hen, Sage, in Wyoming, 241.
Heron, Black-crowned Night, jump-
ing into water, 295.
nesting in reeds, 334.
on Gardiner’s Island, 45.
Heron, Florida Great Blue, Food
call of young of, 116.
Habits of, 114.
Manner of feeding young of,
122.

426

Heron, Nesting-sites of, 119.

Notes of young of, 122.
Young of, Actions of, 119.
Heron, Great Blue, formerly on

Pelican Island, 83.
nesting in cypress, 127.
nesting in tulés, 298.
Tameness of, at Los Banos, 293.

Heron, Great White, in Florida
Keys, 138.
Heron, Little Blue, in Cuthbert

Rookery, 135, 141.
nesting in cypress swamp, 129.
Notes of, 132.
Heron, Louisiana, in Bahamas, 109.
in Cuthbert Rookery, 135, 141,
144.
nesting in buttonwood, 1138.
nesting in cypress swamp, 129.
nesting in mangroves, 144.
Notes of, 144.
Heron, Yellow-crowned Night, in
Bahamas, 202.
nesting in cypresses, 128.
Herrick, F. H., on the feeding of
young birds, 320.
Highlands, Attractions of, for bird
students, 409.
Hittell, C. J., at Bates’ Hole, 239.
at Klamath Lake, 295.
at Piru, 261.
Background by, 291.
Horsfall, Bruce, Backgrounds by,
111, 233, 244.
on western trip, 227.
Hummingbird, Ruby-throated,
tions of, at nest, 25.
feeding at flower, 26.
feeding young, 25.
Nest of, 25.
Photographing, in flight, 26.

Ac-

Ipis, White, formerly on Pelican

Island, 83.

in Cuthbert Rookery, 135, 141,
146.
Ibis, White-faced Glossy, Evolu-

tions of, 293.
in San Joaquin Valley, 292.
Notes of, 292.
Iee Age, Influence cf, on Florida
bird-life, 81.

INDEX TO TEXT

Incubation habits, of Brown Peli-

can, 95, 96.
of Skimmer, 71.

Ingraham, D. P., collecting in Ba-
hamas, 208.

Irrigation in San Joaquin Valley,
Calif., 286.

Island-life, Study of, 35, 151.

Island, Necessity of, for Pelicans,
371.

JAY, BLUE, Actions of, toward a
mounted Blue Jay, 8.
toward a mounted
Owl, 10-14.
Home-life of, 7.
Mental development of, 3.
Nest of, 7.
Notes, Significance of, 10, 11.
Parental control of young of, 8.
quiet near nest, 6.
Young, Actions of, 8, 14.
Jay, Florida, Origin of, 80.
Job, H. K., on Cuthbert Rookery,
136.
on Saskatchewan birds, 349.
“Jumby” in Bahamas, 163.

Screech

Keys, FLORIDA, Voyage among, 138
Klamath Falls, Visit to, 295.
Klamath Lake, Beauty of, 296.
Birds of, 294-304.
to be drained, 380.
Pelicans on, 380.
Knob on bill of White Pelican, 376,
382.
Kroegel, Warden,
and, 86, 95.

of Pelican Isl-

LABORATORY,Desert Botanical, 243.
Lagopus leucurus, 3.
in Canadian Rockies, 357.
Lameness, Feigning of, 31, 32.
Lang, H., Birds mounted by, 111.
Leucosticte tephrocotis in Cana-
dian Rockies, 357.
Lilford, Lord, Studies of Flamingo
by, 156.
Linnet. in California, 258, 259.
Lion, Sea, in Farallones, 275.
Lodge, Geo. E., Visit to Gardiner’s
Island with, 48, 60.

INDEX TO TEXT

Longspur, Chestnut-collared,
of, 340.

Longspur, McCown’s, Song of, 340.

Los Banos, Calif., Birds of, 286-293.

Song

MAGISTRATE, Bahaman, 165.
MacDougal, D. T., Advice by, in
Arizona, 242.
Magpie, American, near Lake Ta-
hoe, 306.
Mallard, feigning lame, 323.
with young in San Joaquin Val-
ley, 292.
Mangrove Cay,
at, 166.
Mangroves killed by frost, 84.
Manitoba, Shoal Lake, White Peli-
can on, 378.
Man-o’-War Bird, both sexes incu-
bating, 218.
Development of plumage in
young of, 220, 221,
Eeg of, 220.
formerly on Pelican Island, 83.
in Bahamas, 200-224.
Inflation of gular pouch by,
219.
killed for food, 210.
less tame than Booby, 218.
Nesting sites and nests of, 217,
220.
soaring, 206, 218.
Young of, 220.
Martin, House, aboard ship, 392.
Martin, Sand, in England, 399.
Marmot, Hoary, in Canadian Rock-
ies, 360.
Massachusetts, Martha’s Vineyard,
36.
Muskeget, 36.
Penikese, 36.
Matthews, F. Barrows, Co-operation
of, 157, 159, 163.
Mayer, Alfred G., Studies of Boo-
bies by, 214.
Voyage in the Bahamas with,
200, 204, 224.
Maynard, C. J., Studies of Flamin-
go by, 156.
Meadowlark, Alarm note of, 15.
Home-life of, 15.
Morning with, 15.
Range of, about nest, 15.

Bahamas, Arrival

427

Meadowlark, Rate of feeding
young of, 18.
Shyness of, 15, 16.
Song of, compared with that of
Western Meadowlark, 231.
Meadowlark, Western, in Saskatch-
ewan, 339,
sings on blind, 235.
Song of, 231.
Merriam, C. Hart, At Pyramid Lake
with, 376.
Migration of Pelicans, 88.
of Phalaropes, 268.
on Cay Verde, 209.
Milliners’, Destructions of Cobb’s
Island birds for, 64.
Destruction of Grebes for, 303.
Mink, Absence of, on Gardiner’s
Island, 39.
Mirage in San Joaquin Valley, 287.
Moccasins in Florida, 116.
Molt of Ptarmigan, 358, 359.
Mockingbird, Bahama, 152.
Monster, Gila, in Arizona, 249.
Moorhen, Abundance of, 400.
Murre, Eggs of, as food, 276, 277.
Eggs of, taken at Bempton
Cliffs, 405,
in Farallones, 276.
in Farne Islands, 406.
Manner of perching of, 278.
off coast of Wales, 592.

NEBRASKA,Character of bird-life of,
229.
Nebraska, Halsey, Birds seen at,
229-231.
Nesting season,
England, 397.
Nesting-site, Arboreal,
to gregariousness, 36,
influenced by environment, 37.
insular, Necessity for, among
colonial birds, 35-37.
not determined by condition of
young birds at birth, 35.
Nest-Relief, Ceremony of, 95, 96.
Nevada, Pyramid Lake, White Peli-
can on, 35.
New England, Morton’s account of
birds of, 38.
New Forest, England, Attractions
of, for naturalist, 402.

Earliness of, in

in relation

428

New Jersey, Englewood, Study of
Blue Jay at, 3.
Study of Meadowlark at, 15.
New York, Gardiner’s Island, Bird
studies at, 34, 36, 37, 38-61.
West Park, Bird studies at, 20.
Nichols Town, Bahamas, visited,
165.
Nighthawk and Whip-poor-will con-
fused, 29.

Nighthawk, feigning lameness, 31.
Nest of, 29.
Nighthawk, Texas,
Arizona, 246.
Nightingale, Song of, 394, 395.

Song season of, 393.
Noddy, Flight of, 196.
Nest of, 193.
Notes of, 192.
on Cay Verde, 208.
Persecution of, by
198.
Tameness of, 192, 195.
Terrestrial nesting habit of,
how acquired, 195.
Notes of birds, Significance of, 58,
59.
Nova Scotia, Sable Island, 37.

Notes on, in

spongers,

OBEDIENCE of Young Birds, 8, 31,
53, 68, 325, 328.
Observations continuous and casual
compared, 22,
Opuntia cholla as site of
nests, 245.
in Arizona, 244.
Opuntia engelmanni
244,
Opuntia spinosior in Arizona, 244.
Oriole, Northrop’s, on Andros, 158.
Osprey on Gardiner’s Island, 46.
Oyster-catcher on Cobb’s Island, 63.
Oregon, Bird studies on Klamath
Lake, 294-304.
Owl, Burrowing,
232.
in Florida, 80.
Owl, Elf, living in giant cactus, 244.
Owl, Screech, and Blue Jay, 10-14.
Owl, Spotted, Probable call of, 263.

birds’

in Arizona,

at Halsey, Neb.,

PALO VERDE in Arizona, 244.
Parental control of young birds, 8,
31, 58, 68, 325-328.

INDEX TO TEXT

Paroquet, Carolina, Range of, 80.
Partridge, Gambel’s, Notes on, in
Arizona, 246, 249.
Pass, San Gorgonio, Force of wind
through, 257.
Pear, Prickly, in Arizona, 244.
in Bahamas, 152, 207.
Peter, negro guide, 163.

Petrel, Ashy, in Farallones, 282.
Leach’s, in Farallones, 282.
Pelican, Brown, Arrival on Island

of, 86, 92.
Daily life of, 105-108.
Development of young of, 94,
96.
driven from Pelican Island, 84,
85.
Eges of, 95.
exercising in the air, 108.
fighting, 108.
Flight of, 105.
Means of defense of, 90.
Mental status of, 108-112.
Migration of, 88.
Nesting sites of, 84, 92.
Nests of, 93.
Notes of, 96, 97.
Plumage of, 89.
protecting young, 112.
recognizing young, 110.
Time of laying of, 86, 88, 89,
O2Fc05s
Voice of, 92.
Young of, die when exposed to
sun, 110.
Young of,
cans, 104.
Young, Habits of, 99.
Young of, how fed, 97, 98.
Pelican Island flooded by norther,
90, 94.
History of, 83.
Pelican, White, Aerial evolution of,
382.
deprived of home by Reclama-
tion Service, 379, 380.
Expanse of, 370.
feeding young, 3881.
Flight of, 867.
Knob on bill of, 376.
in Saskatchewan, 384.
on Klamath Lake, 380.
Range of, 370, 372.

eating young Peli-

INDEX TO TEXT

Pelican, selecting island as home,
BEG be
871, 384.

Weight of, 370.

Pelicans, Former distribution of,
368,

Phalarope, Northern, at Monterey,
268-271.

Phalarope, Red, at Monterey, 268-

Phalarope, Wilson’s, Actions of,
321.

in Wyoming, 241.

Nesting habits of, 321.

Notes of, 321.

Phalaropes, Feeding habits of, 268-

271.
Pheasant, English, Barren hens of,
destroying nests, 44.
Concealing powers of, 42.
Crow of, 42.
Flight of, 42.
Flight of young of, 42.
on Gardiner’s Island, 42, 43.
Possible causes of decrease of,
on Gardiner’s Island,, 43, 44.
Pheebe nesting near ‘‘Slabsides,”
22.
New nesting-sites of, 23.
“Physalia,” The, goes ashore on
Cistern Key shoals, 222.
Voyage in, 200.
Pigeon, White-crowned, in Ba-
hamas, 152.
Pigeon, Wood, Abundance of, 400.
Notes of, 400.
Pika in Canadian Rockies, 360.
Pimlico in Bahamas, 152.
Pipit, Tree, Song of, 401.
Piru, Calif., Birds seen at, 259-266.
Piru creek, Gold first found in, 260.
Plains, Attractiveness of, 337, 338.
Life of, 338.
Plains of Western Canada, Birds
of, 337-349.
Plover, Mountain,
241.
Plover, Piping, nesting on Gardi-
ner’s Island, 36, 46.
Plover, Wilson, on Cobb’s Island,
63.

in Wyoming,

429

Plumers, proposed visit to Cuthbert
Rookery, 137, 145.
Poets and English birds, 391.
Porpoises catching fish in the air,
138.
Potrero, Devil’s, in California, 261.
Price, W. W., Camp of, on Fallen
Leaf Lake, 305.
Protection of Farallone
birds, 278.
Ptarmigan. Distribution of,
Protective coloration
360.
Ptarmigan Pass, Birds of, 355-366.
Ptarmigan, White-tailed, in Cana-
dian Rockies, 357, 362.
Tameness of, 362-365,
Puffins, off coast of Wales, 392.
on Farne Islands, 406.
Puffin, Tufted, in Farallones,
282.
Pyramid Lake, Pelicans on, 376.
to go dry by evaporation, 379.

Island

307.

of, 358,

281,

QuarL, Mountain, in the Sierras.

306.
Valley, Notes of, 306.
Quebec, Bird Rocks, 36.
Bonaventure, 36,

RaGGEpD ISLANDS, Anchor near, 204.
Birds seen on, 205.

Rail, Clapper, on Cobb’s Island, 68,
74.

Rainfall in Bahamas, 167, 176.

Rats, Absence of, on Gardiner’s
Island, 39.

Reclamation Service, Influence of
work of, on birds, 379, 380.

Recognition of young by White Pel-
icans, 382, 387.

Reeds, quill, Abundance of birds
in, 320.

Reefs in Shoal Lake, 317.

Reserve, Federal, for birds, 84.

Ridgway, Robert, Studies of White
Pelican by, 376.

Roadrunner, Notes on, in Arizona,
246.

Robin, Abundance of, 415.

Nesting habits of,
ner’s Island, 41.
Robin Redbreast, Song of, 398.

on Gardi-

430

Robin, Western, in Canadian Rock-
ies, 351.
Rook, Abundance, of, in England,
400.
Rookery, Cuthbert, 135-148.
Flamingo, 109.
life, 124, 144.
meaning of term, 81.
Roosevelt, President, creates Re-
serve of Pelican Island, 84.

SALTON SEA, White Pelicans on an
island in, 371.

Sandpiper, Bartram’s,
Gardiner’s Island, 46.

Santa Catalina Mountains, 248.

nesting on

Sapsucker, Williamson’s, Nest of,
in Sierras, 308.
Saskatchewan, Big Stick Lake,

White Pelicans on, 384.
Scott’s ranch on Crane Lake, 342.
Sea grape in Bahamas, 152, 207.
Sea lavender in Bahamas, 152, 207.
Sedge in Bahamas, 152.
Selborne, England, Attractions of,
401, .
Seton, Ernest, at Shoal Lake, Mani-
toba, 325.
attacked by Black Tern, 325.
Sexual display of Prairie Hen, 2338.
Shasta, Mt., Grandeur of, 294, 297.
Shearwater, Audubon’s, in Baha-
mas, 198.
Nesting habits of, 198.
Notes of, 199.
on Cay Verde, 208.
Shiras, George, 3d, Camp with, on
Cay Verde, 206.
Voyage in Bahamas with, 200,
204.

Shoal Lake, Manitoba,
served at, 315-336.
Sierras, Birds observed in, 305-310.

Extent of, 255.
Sink, Salton, Altitude of, 253.
Skimmer, Actions of, when colony

is approached 66.

Arrival of,on Virginia coast, 66.

Attacking, 66.

Bill of, 72, 73.

Date of laying of, 66.

Eggs of, 68.

Feeding habits of, 73, 74.

Birds ob-

INDEX TO TEXT

Skimmer, Incubating habits of, 64.
Nest of, 68, 70.
Nest of, robbed, 66.
Notes of, 66, 70, 71.
Number of eggs laid by, 64.
on Cobb's Island, 63, 64.
removes egg-shell, 71.
Young, Bill of, 73.
Young of, difficult to see, 68.
Young, Food of, 72.
Young, Obedience of, 68.
Skylark, Abundance of, 414.
Song of. 397.
“Slabsides,” 21.
Smith, E. W.,
111.
Solitaire, Townsend’s, Song of, in
Canadian Rockies, 352.
Song of, in Sierras, 310.
Song of birds to be measured by
association, 391.
stimulated by song, 318.
Sparrow, House, in England, 398.
414,
in competition with native spe-
cies, 41.
Sparrow, Intermediate
crowned, Song of, 352.
Sparrow, Ipswich, on Sable Island,

Birds mounted by,

White,

Sparrow, Nelson’s,
299

Song of, 22.

Sparrow, Savanna, possible main-
land representative of Ipswich
Sparrow, 37.

Sparrow, Song, Geographic varia-
tions of, 254, 257.

Sparrow, Thick-billed Fox, in the
Sierras, 306.

Spoonbill, Roseate,
Pelican Island, 83.

in Cuthbert Rookery, 135, 136,
141, 144, 146.
Nest of, 142, 145.

Sportsmen preserving birds, 134.

Squirrel, Red, Absence of, on Gard-
iner’s Island, 39.

Stilt, Black-necked, Actions of, 289.
in San Joaquin Valley, 288.
Young of, 289.

Storm in Bahamas, 167, 202.

Summerlin, Aden, 113.

at Shoal Lake,

formerly on

INDEX TO TEXT

Starling, Abundance of, in
land, 399, 414.
increasing in America, 399.
Stratford, England, Birds seen at,
404.
Sula cyanops, 216.
Sula leucogastra in Bahamas, 200,
216.
Swallow, Barn, nesting at Glacier,
B. C., 352.
Swan, Wild, Former abundance of,
in New England, 38.
Swift, English, Notes of, 399.
Swift, White-throated, bathing, 262.
Nesting sites of, 262.

Eng-

TAHOE LAKE, Beauty of, 305.

Tahoe-Placerville stage route, 309.

Tanager, Scarlet, at nest, 28.

Tanager (Spindalis) in Bahamas,
52.

Taylor, Will, guide, 237.

Teal, Blue-winged, covering eggs,
323.
Teal, Cinnamon, in San Joaquin

Valley, 290.
Female of, always leading, 290.
nesting. 290.
Young of, 290.
Temperature in Arizona, 245.
in Canadian Rockies, 357.
in Nebraska, 232.
in Wyoming, 237.
Tern, Black, defends young,
Feeding habits of, 320.
following wagon, 315.
Incubation period of, 325.
in San Joaquin Valley, 290.
Nesting habits of, 324.
Nesting of, 290.
raising nest after rain, 325.
Young of, 290.
Young, Obedience of, 325-328.
Tern, Bridled, in Bahamas, 198.
on Cay Verde, 208.
Tern, Caspian, on Klamath Lake,
301.
Young of, swimming, 301.
Tern, Common, attacking
Hawk, 47.
in Saskatchewan, 344..
Nervousness of, 336.
on Cobb’s Island, 63, 74.

325.

Fish

431

Tern, Common, on Shoal Lake, 336.
Young of, swimming, 46.
Tern, Forster’s, in San Joaquin Val-
ley, 290.
on Cobb’s Island, 63, 74.
Tern, Gull-billed, Nest of, 36, 74, 75.
Notes of, 75.
on Cobb’s Island,
Tern, Least, formerly
Island, 63.
Tern, Sooty, Flight of, 196.
nesting on ground, 195.
Notes of, 196.
on Cay Verde, 208, 209.
shyer than Noddy, 195.
Terns, Destruction of, on Cobb’s
Island, 64.
Terns nesting on
yard, Muskeget,
36.

Terns, Southern, laying fewer eggs
than northern Terns, 198.
Thrasher, Palmer’s, Nesting of, in

Arizona, 245.
Thrush, Hermit, in Canadian Rock-
ies, 351.
Song of, in Sierras, 310.
Thrush, Missel, Early nesting of,
397.
Thrush, Song, Abundance of, 414.
Song of, 396.
Thrush, Varied, Song of, in Cana-
dian Rockies, 351.
Timberline, Horizontal, near Keno,

3, 74.
on Cobb’s

Martha’s Vine-
and Penikese,

Oregon, 295.
Tourist, destructive on Pelican

Island, 95.

Gun-bearing, Curse of, 84.
Tropic Bird on Cay Verde, 208.
Tulé islands of Klamath Lake, 296,

298.
Turkey,
117.

feeding young, 118.

Nesting sites of, 116.

Flight of, 118.

Habits of, 114.

Notes of, 116, 118.

Water, Appearance of,

VALLEY, SAN JOAQUIN, 255.

Valley, Sacramento, 255.

Vireo, Warbling, singing on nest,
319.

432

Virginia, Cobb’s Island, 36, 68.
Vulture, Turkey, compared with
California Condor, 263.
in Flamingo colony, 182.
nesting on Man-o’-War
137.
Wariness of,

Key,

265.

WARBLER,Cane May, Abundance of
on Cat Cay, 224.

Kirtland’s, seen on Cat Cay,
224.

Parula, on Gardiner’s Island,
45.

Reed, Song of, 401.
Willow, Song of, 401.
Warden on Pelican Island, 85,
Warwick Castle, Birds seen at,
Washerwoman Keys, Birds of, 158.
Waxwing, Cedar, at Monterey, 268.
Weasel, Absence of, on Gardiner’s

Island, 39.
Possible damage to nesting
birds by, 36.
West Indian birds in Florida, 17.
Wheatear aboard ship, 392.
Wheeler, W. M., in Bahamas, 164.
White, Gilbert, 402.

86.
404.

INDEX TO TEXT

Whitney, Mt., Altitude of, 250.
Whittaker, guide, 259.
Wild Cats, Possible
nesting birds by, 36.
Wild-fowl in western Canada, Ne-
cessity for protecting, 314.
Willet, Flocks of, in Snake Bight,
Florida, 139,
on Cobb’s Island, 638, 74.
Wilson, Alexander, on Fish Hawk,
47,

damage to

Winchester, England, haunt of
Isaac Walton, 402.

Woodpecker, Ivory-billed, Range
of, 80.

Wren, Cactus, Early nesting of in
Arizona, 245.
in Mohave Desert, 258.
Notes of, 245.
Wren, Carolina, Abundance of, on
Gardiner’s Island, 44, 45.
Wren, Rock, in Farallones, 283.
in Saskatchewan, 339.
Wren-Tit, Distinetness of, 254.
Wyoming, Bates’ Hole, 235, 28

Yucca TREE, at Hesperia, 258.

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LABORATORY OF ORNITHOLOGY
CORNELL UNIVERSITY
ITHACA, NEW YORK