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Plate XXXII.—SETOPHAGA RUTICILLA, (Link.) Swainson.—American Redstart
In the habit of capturing insects upon the wing, the sylvicoline subfamily of birds to which the Redstart belongs, resembles very closely the smaller Flycatchers, but it differs in being less sedentary. When in pursuit of food, it is constantly on the move, in and out among the branches and foliage, seldom, if ever, waiting for some apparently witless insect to manifest itself as our Pewees do. The strictly oscine character of the tarsal scutellæ or plates, and the existence of nine primary wing-feathers, are sufficient to distinguish them from the latter, notwithstanding the orange or yellow crown of some of its members. These birds—the Setophagmae of naturalists—have their greatest development in tropical America, where no less than nine genera and sub-genera are known to exist. Only two of them extend into the United States, and of the genus of Redstarts, we have but one of the many that have been described. This species, to which allusion has just been made, has an extended distribution, but chiefly in Eastern North America. It has been found from the Atlantic westward to Utah, and from Florida to Fort Simpson in British America. Throughout the river bottoms of the Missouri, according to various observers, it is one of the most abundant of summer occupants, and is also to be found quite frequently as a breeder in the foot-hills west of Denver. Mr. Allen, who is our authority for this statement, believes it to be sparingly represented in this region wherever woodlands exist. In the mountains it was not observed beyond the limit of 8000 feet.
The time of its arrival is usually about the first of May, never later in the latitude of Philadelphia than the 8th, and occasionally as early as the 20th of April in certain seasons; in New England from the first to the 10th of May, but not before the last of this month in the moss-clad willows of the marshes that skirt the far Saskatchewan. The red lining of its wings as it flits through the sombre foliage of the trees in pursuit of insects renders it an object of attraction, and one to be easily recognized. Were this mark of identification wanting, its crisp, lovely notes would tell the tale of its presence, and lead the pursuer at once to its whereabouts.
The song of the Redstart resembles very closely that of the Black and White Creeper, but differs in being less prolonged, and in its quicker, sharper intonation. It may be very appropriately represented by the syllables tsi-tsi-tsiwe, the last ending rather abruptly. Its ordinary call is a simple tsich, which is heard at long and irregular intervals. Singular to say, these sounds are most frequent when the bird is most active, and not while in the enjoyment of the quietude which follows such a life. At such times our hitherto energetic friend maintains the utmost silence. Being an extremely early riser, it is in the cool, calm hours of the morning, ere all Nature is astir, that he regales the listening spirits of the groves with his sweetest music. About four o'clock he awakes from his slumber, arranges his toilet with care, and with a happy heart starts out to breakfast. But few of his neighbors are up, and for a while he has everything his own way. For nearly five hours he is a busy gleaner. Fastidious in appetite, he does not accept whatever he meets with, but prefers his viands to be of the very best that the great market of the world possesses. While beetles are devoured when other articles are not convenient, there is manifestly a strong predilection for the juicier fly and moth, or the honey-bearing aphis.
A remarkable peculiarity of this species whilst feeding deserves a passing notice in this connection. We allude to its habit of opening and closing the wings, and of expanding the feathers of the tail. Whether these movements are done for show or not, we are unable to say. They cannot be considered as designed solely for attracting the sexes to each other, which would doubtless be the correct interpretation if they were practised only during the season of mating. But as they are to be noticed throughout the entire stay of these birds, and always while engaged in feeding, it seems to us that they are expressive of delight and satisfaction. The capture of an insect evokes them, and from being habitual, it is no more than natural to suppose that the sight of a loved one—the partner of former joys and sorrows—would produce feelings akin, but stronger, and lead to similar manifestations. Unlike what is customary among birds, the female Redstart rivals the male in powers of song.
Never gregarious, for three weeks and more from the time of arrival the sexes lead solitary lives, and spend the time in feeding. At first their foraging is confined to high, open woods, but as the days flit by, they become more friendly and visit orchards and lawns, or glean among the trees that line our roads and lanes. They now become quite tame, and may be approached with comparative ease. In the procurement of food they are as often found upon the upper branches of trees as upon the lower, and do not deem themselves too proud to come down to lower growths, or betake themselves to the ground. As the males are the first to show themselves, it is to be presumed that they are the earliest to migrate. They seem to be several days in advance of the females. But perhaps the latter are more modest and retired, and do not emerge from their sylvan quarters as soon as their lords, which would account for their apparent delay. But whether or not they arrive together, it is evident that they pay little regard to each other for a fortnight, and only care for selfish gratification.
This condition of things continues until the last of May or the beginning of June, when the males seek out their partners, and prepare for the work which has called them through many a weary league of country. From the time of mutual recognition until the construction of the nest, affairs progress with wonderful rapidity. The selection of a building-spot, as also does the labor of building, depends upon the female. She is rather whimsical, and, above all, hard to please. The male occasionally assists, but things often go wrong, and rather than provoke a tempest, he takes a position where he can inspect the work as it progresses under the critical eye, and by the skilful manipulations of his steady, industrious and persevering housewife. While for these long, weary days she is thus occupied with the structure, her partner sweetens the ennui of her life by an agreeable ditty and words of endearment. As if to show his appreciation of her exertions, he now and then rewards her with one of his choicest captures.
Dense woods with plenty of underbrush are generally chosen when nesting. Occasionally, through some freak of the builders, the domicile is placed contiguous to human habitations. Almost any small tree or bush answers for its support. A crotch receives the fabric and renders it secure from violent storms of wind. Upon first examination it seems to be the counterpart of the home of the Summer Yellow-Bird, but this impression is soon abandoned when a comparison is instituted. A typical structure before us, which was built upon a forked branch of the wild plum, at a height of ten feet from the ground, is composed of the fibres of the wild flax, with a few spiders' webs, on the outside, and is lined with a profusion of horse-hairs. In diameter it measures two and three-fourths inches, and three in height. The width of the cavity is two inches, and the depth one and five-eighths. The whole affair is beautifully hemispherical, and neatly and compactly woven.
In the construction of the nest there is visible a marked uniformity in character, although the materials vary with the localities. Shreds of savin-bark, bits of wool, strips of bark, thistle-down, bits of paper, and other fragments are sometimes utilized in the periphery, while vegetable fibres, pine leaves, dry grasses and wool of plants are made to do good service in adding a warm and comfortable lining. From what we read it seems that the Redstart does not always build directly upon a branch, but is occasionally prone to make use of the nest of some other species as a foundation. A case is cited by Dr. Breaver where the Redstarts had placed their nest upon a Blue-eyed Warbler's, which had either been deserted, or from which the rightful owners had been expelled. The base of this fabric was composed of brownish wool plucked from fern leaves, with a commingling of herbaceous stems and leaves. Within this wonderfully unique structure was placed an entirely distinct nest, firmly and elaborately interwoven of pine needles, stems of grasses and long, slender ribands of bark.
Oviposition is closely attendant upon nest-completion, and proceeds at the rate of one egg daily, until the entire set is laid. Incubation immediately follows, and is the exclusive duty of the female for eleven days. While this is going on, the male bird busies himself with the food-matters? and is a very thoughtful and attentive provider. When not employed in this business, he shows his regard and solicitude by remaining at home. In times of danger he never shirks his responsibility, but comes boldly to the front, and by his clamors and menacing gestures endeavors to frighten the intruder away. Bold and courageous he will often dart with wide-open jaws into the face of the person who dares to disturb his nest or mate. So strongly attached to her nest, on the other hand, is the ladybird, that she will permit a near approach thereto before abandoning it. In times of assault she is less demonstrative, and when her nest is despoiled before her eyes, expresses but a moderate show of distress. But while the paternal head of the household can be so deeply concerned for the welfare of his family, and the preservation of his home, it is a noteworthy fact that even while bewailing her misfortunes in the most agonizing manner possible, the mother-bird is often known to stop in the midst of her lamentations to seize a passing insect.
The young are objects of the ten derest solicitude, both parents laboring with unremitting zeal in providing them with plenty of suitable nourishment. Young caterpillars and the larvæ of various other insects which the parents often procure at great distances, are fed to them when quite young, but later on they are subsisted upon plant lice, small spiders and mature diptera and ants. Late in the season both young and old devour great quantities of cedar berries, and the seeds of the commoner grasses. When twelve days old the young leave the nest for the first time, but are not prepared to quit entirely until a week older. They now in company with their parents repair to moist rather than dry thickets, because of the greater abundance of insects to be found in such places, and here they remain until the last of September, when they retire south to winter in Guatemala, and other parts of Central America, as well as in the West Indies and Peru.
About the time of departure, the young male resembles in plumage the mother, but differs in having the upper tail-coverts and tail a deep black color, instead of having the former olive and the latter dusky. In addition the dorsal region is more greenish-olive, and the abdomen and crissum of a purer white. He is slow in acquiring the perfect adult plumage, and does not attain to it until his third year. At or about this time his predominant color is black. This is variegated by the white abdomen and under tail-coverts, and by a central band on the breast of the same color, and still further by the bases of all the quills (excepting the inner and outer proximal halves of all the tail-feathers but the middle,) a patch on each side of the breast, and the axillary region, being of an orange-red hue, which shades to a vermilion on the breast. The female has the black replaced by olive-green above, and brownish-white below. Yellow takes the place of orange, and ash that of black upon the head. There is also a grayish-white line and ring around the eye. Their length is five and a quarter inches, wing two and a half, and tail two and nine-twentieths.
The eggs of the Redstart are four in number, and bear some resemblance to those of the common Blue-eyed Yellow Warbler. Their groundcolor is a grayish-white, and this is quite thickly sprinkled all over, but more especially about the larger extremity, with shades of brown and black. They vary in length from .54 to .67 of an inch, and in breadth from .44 to .53. Specimens from widely separated localities, when compared with others from the Middle Atlantic States, show the same amount of variation in size and general appearance. In Eastern Pennsylvania the species is single-brooded, and the same may be said of other sections of the country which the birds frequent.
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Plate XXXIII.—SCOPS ASIO, (Linn.) Bonaparte.—Mottled Owl
Throughout the temperate regions of North America few species among our nocturnal birds of prey have a wider distribution. In New England, and the Middle, Southern and Western sections of our country, it is more or less common, but on the Pacific as far north as Sitka, it gives place to a different and well-marked variety, one whose habits are not materially dissimilar to our Eastern form. McIlwraith gives it as a resident in portions of Canada, near Hamilton and around Montreal, but further north, if it appears at all, it is notably scarce. In the Arctic regions it is evidently unknown, if the failures on the part of Richardson and others to mention it in their travels afford any basis of judgment. Towards the extreme limits of its range there is reason to believe that it prevails in smaller numbers than elsewhere. In Pennsylvania and New Jersey, where its habits have been especially studied by the author, it is our most abundant species.
It courts rather than shuns human society. In some rural districts this familiarity is more manifest than in others, particularly where unduly harassed by boys and equally offensive birds. The immense good which these Owls accomplish in the destruction of vermin should command for them proper respect, but the most cruel persecutions are the only reward which they receive. The evil which some of their less scrupulous and larger brethren commit, reflects upon them, and they, through ignorance and superstition, are made the scape-goats for a multiplicity of sins. But fortunately there are localities where they are held in high estimation by persons of sense and education, and amply recompensed. Here they become remarkably unsuspicious, nesting and roosting in hollow trees, and even venturing into barns and out-buildings to spend the night.
More eminently nocturnal than any of its kind, it does not emerge from its darksome quarters until the day has expired, and gloomy night has assumed the rod of empire. In the uncertain twilight a few individuals, pressed by hunger, may often be seen abroad, but it is not until every trace of day has been obliterated that we find the majority on the wing, in noiseless pursuit of game. When aroused during the daytime its movements are somewhat dubious, and it acts very much like a child who has been awakened from a sound sleep in the midst of a brilliantly-lighted room. In cloudy weather less difficulty is experienced, and its actions are freer. Young birds seem to be better adapted to sunlight than their parents. May it not be that the constant habit of sleeping during the day, consequent upon a night's carousal, has so weakened the visual organs as to render them ill-fitted for day-toil? Animals, accustomed to diurnal occupations, suffer considerable inconvenience for a while when compelled to work at night. A return to day-labor is attended, though perhaps in a less degree, by the same discomfort. The irides undoubtedly habituate themselves to a reversal of habit. It is a notorious fact that the young of the Great-horned Owl can endure the intense light of the sun almost equally with the Eagle, although being mainly nocturnal in habits. It is brought about by the voluntary, rather than the automatic, movements of the iris. This fact associated with the already mentioned circumstance in the history of the present species, strongly favors the hypothesis that all our Owls can in time adapt themselves to a change of habit pari passu with visual modification, as instanced in the case of the Day Owl.
Appetitive gratification is the sole engrossing thought of these birds outside of the mating season. While they devote much of their time veering through the atmosphere in quest of insects which contribute largely to their diet, still they do not deem themselves too aerial to descend to the earth at times when some purpose is to be subserved. They are fond of low meadows, and even premises adjoining barns, barracks, etc., where they make terrible onslaughts upon the small quadrupeds which infest such places. Sailing above the tall grasses, the smallest creature is readily descried, and almost in the twinkling of an eye is captured and borne away in the vice-like bill, or firm grasp of the more powerful claws. When pressed for food they often conceal themselves behind tufts of grasses, and await the appearance of their quarry, or even visit our smaller birds upon their perches.
The nightly rampage of the Mottled Owl is always heralded by a peculiar plaintive cry which strongly resembles the whinings of young puppies. It alternates from high to low, and is occasionally varied by deep guttural trills. From dusk until the clock has ushered in the wee hours of the morning the ear of night is startled by these lugubrious utterances. By some they are supposed to be intended as a summons from the female to her partner, and vice versa. As they are chiefly heard while in pursuit of prey, it is more than probable that they are designed to startle small birds from their coverts, and thus insure their easy capture. The representation of the notes may be quite accurately expressed by wha-a-a-a-a.
Life without variety soon becomes monotonous, and in the case of the human animal often leads to unpleasant results. With birds the dreary autumnal and wintry days, which are spent in sleep and in contriving means for obtaining a subsistence, are no longer a source of enjoyable pleasure when spring returns, and we discover when the proper time arrives that everywhere there exists a feeling to throw off the shackles of such an existence, and to take on newer relationships. This varies with the character of the weather. During favorable seasons the time is earlier, but when the advancing steps of milder days are retarded by frosts and snows, there is sometimes a delay of a fortnight. Not so with the Mottled Owls. The period of mating with them usually begins quite early, on or about the fifteenth of March in extreme southern latitudes, but as late as the tenth of April in cooler northern sections. In the Middle Atlantic States the time varies from the twentieth of March to about the fifth of the succeeding month. It is then that the sexes manifest more than the usual affection for each other. Their courtship is brief, and business is entered into without the display of any of those amusing antics which pre-eminently mark the smaller oscines. The males, according to our experience, seem to select the same partners on each recurrence of the breeding-time, where not debarred by various fortuitous circumstances. As a proof of this position, we might instance a case. In the vicinity of Philadelphia a pair of birds once laid claim to a particular tree on the premises of a kind-hearted gentleman, who would not suffer them to be disturbed. The breeding-season being over, the female retained possession of the cavity which she had used while rearing her young, and the male sought shelter in the same clump of trees, but in a different hollow. As these were the only birds in that locality, and were observed to occupy the same spot for two successive years, there can be no reason to dispute the above question. By the law of analogy, we presume that others do likewise.
Pairing having been solemnized, the sexes now set to work to re-furnish their domicile. In the case of young birds some time is spent in looking up a suitable hollow of requisite capacity. When preference is shown for an orchard, the apple-tree is selected, especially if it is in close proximity to a farmyard. In other situations, almost any of the species of oaks is made to do good service. The hole generally chosen is one which had been previously wrought by the Golden-shafted Woodpecker at considerable pains. Where this does not exist, a decayed stump is rendered available. The cavity is placed at varying heights, which seem dependent upon the character of the neighborhood. In wooded regions nests are placed at elevations of forty feet and upwards, while in localities contiguous to human habitations, a greater height than ten feet is scarcely reached, and some are never placed more than five or six feet from the ground. The lining of the cavity consists of a few dry leaves and grasses, with an upper stratum of feathers. These are mostly placed in the bottom, and do not extend for any great distance along the peripheral walls. In some instances the materials constituting their bed are thrown promiscuously into the hollow.
Having provided herself with comfortable quarters, the female commences to deposit her eggs, one a day, until the number is reached which is to constitute her charge. Incubation at once ensues, and continues for fifteen days. This is chiefly the labor of the female, although the male sometimes relieves her when she is in quest of food. When with eggs or young the approach of an enemy is greeted with a sort of hissing sound, and the protrusion of the hand into the nest meets with a sharp reception. If surprised in the daytime, these birds are such stupid, sleepy creatures that your approach is scarcely noticed. A sort of vacant stare, with occasional rapid blinkings, save when partially aroused to consciousness by a sudden thrust with the finger, is the only recognition which they give. But when disturbed with such rudeness they open wide the eyes in a staring manner, throw back the head, and utter a loud hiss of indignation or disgust, which is quickly followed by the elevation and protrusion of the claws of the right foot. All this is of momentary duration, and is quickly succeeded by the same stolid indifference as manifested before.
The young are vigorous feeders, and tax the time and energies of the parents to the utmost in the procurement of suitable nourishment. All night long the latter are constantly on the go, both birds being frequently absent together upon this important mission. Small quadrupeds, birds, lizards and insects are a few of the articles which contribute to their fare. At first these are torn into pieces by the parents, and fed to them, but as they increase in age, the entire animal is deposited in the burrow. Mr. Nuttall cites a case where a full supply of Bluebirds, Blackbirds, and Sparrows was thrown into the nest—a striking illustration of the provident habits of the parents. When five weeks old the young leave the nest and receive their rations while clinging to the tree-branches. A fortnight later they are able to hunt for themselves, but at the dawn of morning suspend operations and quietly retire to their homes. In the course of events they are obliged to forsake the family-roof, and to seek quarters in hollow trees, the gloomy recesses of dense forests, or the dark corners of out-buildings. The characteristic plumages of the young, which they attain in about four months from the time of hatching, vary, and are entirely independent of age, sex; or season, being purely individual. There can be no doubt about this statement, since in the same nest there may often be observed both gray and red young ones, while their progenitors may either be both red or both gray, the male red and the female gray, or the reverse. The peculiar notes of the adults are assumed at the same time. But the claws have scarcely acquired their normal development until nearly two months more have been added to their age. In the drawing the rufescent and normal plumages of the adults are so well delineated that no description seems necessary. Specimens from different localities show marked variations in dimensions, but those from which the drawings were made, have a length of nine and a half inches, with wing six and seven-tenths, and tail three and one-half. Young of the normal dress have the secondaries, primary and tail as in the adult, but the latter more mottled, and the bands confused. The rest of the plumage is grayish-white, and marked with numerous transverse dusky-brown bars. The eyebrows and lines are a dull white, with scarce a variegation, and the facial circle obsolete. In the other plumage the wings and tail are as in the adult birds. Upon the head and body the markings are as in the young gray bird, but the white bars are more reddish, and the darker ones a more decided brown.
The eggs of this species are from five to six in number, almost spherical, and of a pure white color. Specimens from different localities offer marked variations in size. Those from Florida are smaller than more northern specimens, and measure 1.31 by 1.15 inches. Xew England eggs average 1.49 by 1.31, and others from Pennsylvania and New Jersey 1.35 inches in length, and 1.18 in width. On comparison with some from Michigan and Iowa we can find but slight differences.
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Plate XXXIV.—RALLUS VIRGINIANUS, Linn.—Virginia Rail.
Of its delightful winter quarters in the South, and the tropical climes of Guatemala and Cuba with their strange and varied forms of life, this handsome little species takes its adieu when the climate in our northern States warrants such a procedure, and spreads itself across the continent to and slightly beyond our northernmost borders. With the first slight frosts of November it takes its departure, to renew our acquaintance again when the delicate-footed May has returned to beautify the earth. These autumnal migrations are often performed during calm, clear nights, when their cries can be distinctly heard overhead. Persons, while "bobbing" for eels at night, have often been startled from their contemplations by the alighting of Rails in the water close-by, and the din produced as they paddle their way into the adjoining weeds. Their departure is seemingly more sudden than their advent, their appearance in diverse latitudes happening at regular intervals. From their feebleness of wing, it might be conjectured that flight is slow and labored, but experience teaches that it is accomplished with comparative ease and freedom, even in the face of a very strong wind. But these birds are best seen in the exercise of their cursorial powers, which the perfect development of their legs and feet, and the compressed, attenuated shape of the body are admirably adapted to promote. Even the bill, with its sharpened outline, which is wisely formed to cut the opposing air, lends its aid in facilitating advancement.
Along the borders of salt marshes, but generally in fresh-water, it may be fouud upon its arrival. In such places it is a busy gleaner, feeding less upon vegetable, but more upon animal, diet than any of its illustrious congeners. Its bill of fare consists of worms, the larvae of insects, and small shell-fish, which it extracts from the mud, a feat which it most successfully and adroitly accomplishes by means of its great length of bill. This strong partiality to animal diet tends to render its flesh less savory than that of the Carolina Rail whose food is principally the nutritious seeds of various kinds of grasses. In the dexterity with which it conceals itself among the reeds and sedges of its favorite haunts when hunted, and its seeming aversion to flight, it is the exact counterpart of the latter species. In fact there are few traits of character which are not common to them both. When distance intervenes between the observer and either species, it requires considerable judgment to make the necessary discrimination. A little experience, however, soon enables the working naturalist to do so without much difficulty.
While chiefly diurnal in habits, there is good reason for believing all Rails to be partially nocturnal, especially during moonlight nights. At such times they are on the qui vive, and from the tall, motionless bullrushes and reeds among which they harbor, the ear of the nightly pedestrian is startled by the peculiar notes of these birds as they pursue their gastronomic occupations, securely hidden from view by interlacing grasses. The movements of these birds would hardly enable you to locate their presence, so noiselessly are they executed. It is to the loud, lusty crik-crik-rik-k-k-k of some wide-awake fellow as he patrols his favorite marshes that we are apprised of his whereabouts and presence. Instantly the strain is taken up first by one and then another, until the very reeds shake and tremble, as it were, under the impulsive influence. A silence then ensues, which is unbroken save by the heavy croaking of some disconsolate frog as he tunes his pipe to the shrill falsetto of a love-lorn cricket. But the time thus spent is comparatively short. Other considerations demand attention. Scarcely two weeks from the time of their arrival, the males seek out their partners, pledge their troth anew, and lead the way into some bog or morass, where they are not long in making a selection of a suitable spot in which to deposit their nest. In the matter of position the male yields due deference to the judgment of his wife. She having decided upon the spot, which may be either a tussock of grass, the bare ground, or a pile of drift-weed, both birds set assiduously to work to construct their nest. This is merely a pile of weeds or grass, arranged very compactly, but with little display of taste or design, and hollowed out to the depth of an inch and a half by the bodily evolutions of the builders. Occasionally, a ground-floor of coarse grasses is laid, and upon this is reared a superstructure of yellowish grasses, which reminds one of the home which the Bobolink is accustomed to build. A few hours of labor at least are all that are necessary to construct one of these domiciles. Wilson mentions a nest that was placed in the bottom of a tuft of grass, and rendered almost inaccessible by the boggy character of the locality. It was composed entirely of old wet grass and rushes. A north-east storm visiting the spot, and an extraordinary rise of tide following, the eggs were floated out, and lay stranded upon the drift-weed. The female being so strongly attached to her home, still lingered near, and permitted herself to be taken by the hand, without showing so much as the least timidity, much less any exhibition of indignation or disgust.
The number of eggs laid ranges from six to ten. These are deposited in daily instalments of one, the first being usually extruded on the third day subsequent to the completion of the nest. The female takes to the nest almost immediately after the last egg is laid, and continues for a term of fifteen days, when, through her constant, persevering efforts, a little family of children, dressed in suits of blackish down, come forth to gladden the hearts of both parents. The male seems to take no direct part in the incubating process, not even so much as to see that his faithful wife is not in want of food. The care of the young devolves also upon her, and when they are endangered, she manifests the most intense solicitude, and seeks by all the devices known to her nature, to lead them into places of safety. Like many smaller, but more courageous species, she is not known to wage a warfare in their defence, but endeavors by strategy, and at the risk of her own life, to save these jewels of her affection—these pledges of her regard—from the snares of the fowler. As soon as hatched, or shortly afterwards, the young are able to quit the nest, and hide themselves among the grass. Their food consists of worms, insects and seeds of grasses, which they procure in situations which they frequent. In their earliest stage the mother helps them to find the essential articles, pretty much after the fashion of the Quail, but as they grow, her responsibility is in a measure abated, and they are left to their own resources. In about four or five weeks they withdraw themselves from her sheltering care entirely, but continue to dwell in the same haunts until the severity of the weather calls them to warmer climes, when both young and old leave together. Their departure is almost unheralded by vocal manifestions, and is slowly executed, the birds stopping from their migrations, at times, to attend to the demands for food. So the journey often requires a fortnight, and even longer time, for its completion.
With the retiring habits of these birds, and their tendency to settle in almost inaccessible meadows and swamps—the most secluded and farthest recesses of which they seek when approached—it is not surprising that they should be deemed less common than they are in actual reality. When better understood they will be shown to be in other sections as abundant breeders as they are in New England and the Middle Atlantic States. When observed, which is rarely the case, they stand or run with the tail erect. A peculiar jerking of this appendage upwards, is a noticeable feature which gives them a somewhat comical appearance. In flight the legs hang as is usual with waders, and are not tucked up, so to speak, as in the case of our smaller land species. They fly to a short distance, and at the moment of alighting, run off with remarkable speed, a movement which the depending position of the feet enables them to accomplish with comparative ease.
Such is the resemblance which obtains between the eggs of this species and those of the Clapper Rail, that were it not for the much smaller size of the former, they could not be readily discriminated therefrom. In form, color and markings they are such perfect counterparts, that they seem to be the same in miniature. Their form is ovoidal, and they are marked with reddish-brown and obscure spots of lilac, the former predominating, upon a deep buff, or creamy background. They vary somewhat in dimensions, even in specimens from the same locality. In New England eggs are found which range from 1.31 to 1.52 of an inch in length, and from .90 to .95 in width. Others from Pennsylvania have an average measurement of 1.28 by .94; from New Jersey, 1.20 by .95. From the Carolina Rail, which they approach in size, they may be readily distinguished by the color, a fact which all amateurs would do well to bear in mind. A careful observance of the difference in the two grounds, which in the Carolina Rail is a yellow-drab, with a faint olivaceous tinge, will prevent the one from being mistaken for the other. In regard to the number of broods annually raised there may be some difference of opinion. Wilson thought that the species was double-brooded. He was led to this opinion by having come into possession of young birds, a few days old, in the month of July. But these may have been the first hatching of birds whose early efforts had been prevented by tidal overflows, or some other of the numerous disasters, which are the natural concomitants of boggy situations.
The drawing represents a nest of this species, typical in character, and placed in position. The eggs are of the natural size and figured in the foreground, while the birds are diminished and put in the distance. The birds are exhibited in proper colors, and may be easily identified. The upper parts are olivaceous-brown, the monotony of which is relieved by longitudinal stripes of brownish-black. The throat is white, fore-part of the neck and breast bright-rufous, abdomen and under tail coverts transversely banded with black and white, the former being the broader; upper wing coverts bright rufous-chestnut and the under wing coverts with transverse white lines upon a field of black. These sombre colors are rendered less irksome by the presence of a reddish-white line from the base of the bill over the eye, and by the bright-red iris. The female differs but slightly from the male in being slightly shorter, and in having the breast of a paler hue. The white on the chin and the throat appears also to be more conspicuous and fuller. The total length of the male, from tip of bill to extremity of tail, is seven and three-quarter inches; the wing is four, and the tail about one and a half.
Original Size
Plate XXXV.—GEOTHLYPIS TRICHAS, (Linn.) Caban.—Maryland Yellow-Throat.
Beautiful, active and intelligent, this species claims superiority over most of its fellows, and is an object of interest and admiration to the enthusiastic student. It should be better known among the masses, as few birds are more sociable and confiding, and, on first appearance, none display stronger attachment to man. It visits his fields and by-ways, in company with the Sparrows, and makes itself at home. But as the season advances, and the time of nesting draws near, such places are forsaken for quieter retreats.
Throughout its extended range, which embraces the whole of the United States from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada and Nova Scotia, and from the Atlantic to the Western Ocean, it displays the same peculiar habits which we observe in Eastern Pennsylvania. It combines the attributes of the Titmice with those of the Flycatchers, moving in and out the foliage and branches of bushes with great dexterity, sometimes hanging from the latter with head downward, in its search for food, or, perched upon a small twig, seizing a passing insect with equal ease and skill. Whilst feeding it is not strictly arboreal. Individuals sometimes betake themselves to the ground, and glean among the dead leaves.
Although occasionally found in cultivated grounds, where its presence is due to the noxious insects which there abound, yet a stronger preference is manifested for wild uncultivated fields, especially such as are overgrown with briers and low bushes. Low lands are more attractive than high, the tendency to humidity always insuring a greater supply of favorite food-stuffs. Its immense service in the destruction of injurious grubs, which contribute largely to its fare, would make it a desirable companion to have about us, but its humble mode of life exposes it to dangers from prowling cats and vicious boys.
When in quest of game its presence is always indicated by the peculiar cry it emits, which resembles that of the Summer Yellow-Bird. These notes are expressed in lively, quick succession, and sound like the syllables wht-whi-ti-têê-têë. In a state of inactivity, a simple twich is all that escapes the hitherto agile creature, and is uttered in such a low voice as to more than half impress the listener that the bird is weary after its long, protracted search, or is verging towards that state when the spirit is well-nigh overcome by sleep. It is during these foraging exploits that our friend's character is seen in its best light. It is not the timid bird that one is disposed to consider it when watching its backward and forward movements among low shrubbery on such occasions. It will permit a near approach by man, even when resting from its labors, and displays not more than half the suspicion which birds ordinarily do.
Like most Warblers, this species regulates its coming, in a measure, by the character of the season. When the spring is early, we have known it to arrive during the last of April. Ordinarily its appearance is noticed from the first to the tenth of May. In California, where the climate is more uniform than in the East, birds have been seen in migration on the seventeenth of April; but in New England, where mild weather is retarded by meteorological causes, their advent does not occur until the beginning of the succeeding month. As is common with most other birds, the sexes do not arrive singly, except in occasional instances, but always in pairs, which seems to warrant the supposition that mating had been solemnized in the land of their winter's sojourn preparatory to leaving.
So little is the attention engrossed-by feeding, that the male does not appear to be utterly unmindful of his partner, as is sometimes the case with other species. Should one or the other stray away, the bird that first becomes apprised of the separation, signals the fact, which is instantly responded to by its companion. Directed by the sounds, they soon come together, and renew operations as before.
A few weeks thus spent suffice to blunt the keen edge of appetite. The male is the first to announce his weariness of such a life. In a few quaint syllables, cognizant to his partner, and perhaps to some of his nearest kin, he states his desire, and awaits her approach. Does she hesitate? In the same lively and pleasing manner he repeats it, this time with greater fullness and variation. Again and again he does the same, and at last his efforts are crowned with success. Pleased with his charming voice, she yields to his pertinacious coaxings, and desists from her labors.
The song of the males, for such naturalists have been pleased to designate the language which the lords of the feathered creation are prone to deliver to their intended partners on certain occasions, bears a strong resemblance at first to the song of the Summer Yellow-Bird. But when at its height, about the fifteenth of May, the likeness is not so marked. It consists merely of a few short syllables, repeated rather quickly but uniformly, and with a loud, clear, distinct and ringing intonation. In syllabic language it may be somewhat accurately represented by têê-whit-ti-têë-whït-t'î-têë-whit-ti.
As fond as this species seems to be of cultivated grounds whilst feeding, we have never known it, from personal observation, to build in similar situations. For purposes of nesting it generally seeks the retirement of woods where there is a dense growth of bushes, or waste fields where brambles are quite abundant. Occasionally the nest occupies the centre of a huge skunk-cabbage, or a tussock of grass, in the midst of a swamp, or alongside of a stream of fresh water. In certain localities moist places are chosen rather than elevated ones. In others the converse is true. Even in the same locality, the birds manifest a preference one year for lowlands, and the very next for those which are high and dry. Perhaps the character of the season does much in rendering these changes necessary. A wet spring, if long and protracted, would, by increasing the amount of water in swampy situations above the average, make them undesirable resorts, and thus drive the birds to the necessity of seeking less humid and less exposed places. At such times, high grounds, by obtaining more than the usual amount of moisture, would become suited to the existence of insects, which form no mean part of their living. In dry seasons, moist localities would be chosen, as they are more advantageously situated for obtaining supplies of food than others.
The nest is almost invariably placed upon the ground, in a thick bed of dry leaves, in a clump of grass, at the roots of low bushes, or under the shelter of a pile of brush, sometimes being covered by surrounding leaves, and quite as often exposed from above. When built directly upon the ground, it occupies a depression thereof; but when built in a tussock, this precaution is not taken, as the necessary security is afforded by the enveloping grasses or sedges. According to Dr. Brewer, nests are occasionally found four or five feet from the ground, among the matted branches of high weeds. A typical nest consists of loose leaves on the outside, which are held in position by the walls of the cavity in which they are placed, or by surrounding grasses. Within is placed a superstructure of dry grasses, twigs, strips of dry bark, and leaves of sedges. The lining consists of fine strips of the bark of the chestnut and wild grape vine, which are arranged with great care and compactness. In depth these structures vary from five to six inches, and have an external diameter of two and a half inches at the base, and three at the mouth. The cavity is usually three inches deep, and about two and a quarter wide. When we come to compare the entire fabric with the size of the builder, we are at a loss to account for the disproportion.
The work of building such a bulky domicile does not fall to the lot of the female solely, but is the result of the combined labor of both birds, who prosecute their task with commendable diligence and patience for a period of five days, when they are rewarded with the sight of a finished home. Nothing now remains to be done but to furnish the capacious apartment with its wee, spotted treasures. This cannot be commenced immediately, as sufficient time must be allowed for the walls to become properly seasoned. Two or three days at the utmost are all that are necessary. On the fourth day the female deposits her first jewel, and, where not interrupted, renews the same duty day by day, until she has furnished her allotted quota. She immediately commences the incubating process, occasionally not before the succeeding day, and for ten long days is thus engaged, when the appearance of the young reminds her that the labor is ended. While thus employed the male, actuated by the purest affection, administers to her necessities with commendable alacrity. He only forsakes her for food. When the nest is assailed, by the most pitiful cries and the practise of various ruses, he endeavors to lead his enemies away from it. His stratagems often succeed with the unsophisticated, but with the professional collector they are of little avail.
The young are carefully nurtured. Their food consists of the larvæ of small beetles, caterpillars of various kinds, and diptera. At the age of twelve days they are able to leave the nest, but remain under parental surveillance for a week longer, when they are obliged to shift for themselves, being permitted, however, to enjoy the society of their parents. Early in September, both young and old take their departure, the greater portion retiring to Mexico, Guatemala and the West Indies, while a few remain along our southern borders.
The plumage of the young bird is brownish-olive above, with a tendency to stronger virescence on the rump and tail. The eyelids and entire lower parts are a light buff, which is relieved by a tinge of yellow on breast and lower tail-coverts. The male in the spring is olive-green, somewhat grayer anteriorly, and has the forehead and a broad band through the eye to the neck a pure black, margined superiorly with grayish-ash. The chin, throat, breast, under tail-coverts and edge of wing bright yellow, passing into whitish in the abdominal region. The wings and tail are slightly olive, and devoid of marks. The bill is black, and the feet flesh-colored. In the female, during the same season, the crown is generally brownish, the black and ash on the head wanting, and the yellow of the under parts pale and restricted. From its congeneric brethren this species differs in the absence of a clear ash upon the throat. Its length is about four and three-fourths inches, wing two and one-fifth, and tail two and three-tenths.
The eggs of the Yellow-Throat range from four to six in number, the complement doubtless depending upon locality, and the peculiarity of the female. In Eastern Pennsylvania, Southern New Jersey and Delaware never more than four have been found in a nest, and this has been the experience of others from even the most widely separated localities. In color the eggs are a beautiful crystalline-white, and are dotted and blotched around the larger extremity with reddish-brown and dark umber. Specimens are often found with curiously-shaped lines and dashes of remarkable fineness. Their size varies with latitude, the largest coming from Kansas, and the smallest from Georgia. The average measurement of several sets from four different localities is .04 by .53 inches. We incline to the opinion that but a single brood is annually raised, although there may be instances where more than one has been observed. In most cases, where the birds have been late in rearing their young, the hasty collector, and even recorder of facts, may conclude that he has a sure proof of his position. Careful watching, carried through a decade, has convinced us that in Philadelphia the species is single-brooded. Like most of our smaller birds, the nest of this species does not escape the visits of the Cowbird, who, taking advantage of the absence of its owners, embraces the opportunity of depositing two of her own eggs, which she trusts the female Yellow-Throat will adopt and rear as her own.