The birds of Jamaica

I am convinced that our Partridge dove is the montana of Linnæus, and not his Martinica; the Martinica of Temminck, and not his montana; the Pigeon roux de Cayenne of Buffon, and not his P. de la Martinique; and that it is not the montana of Audubon;—provided the descriptions and figures of these naturalists faithfully represent their originals.

This bird, the female of which is the least beautiful of all our Doves, is generally scattered. It affects a well-wooded country, and is found in such woods as are more choked with bushes than such as the Whitebelly prefers; though they often dwell together. It is essentially a ground-pigeon, walking in couples or singly, seeking for seeds or gravel on the earth. It is often seen beneath a pimento picking up the fallen berries; the physic-nut also and other oily seeds afford it sustenance. Sam once observed a pair of these Doves eating the large seed of a mango, that had been crushed. With seeds, I have occasionally found small slugs, a species of Vaginulus, common in damp places, in its gizzard. Often when riding through the Cotta-wood, a dense and tangled coppice near Content, I have been startled by the loud whirring of one of these birds, and at the same instant its short, thick-set form has shot across on rapid wing, conspicuous for a moment from its bright rufous plumage, but instantly lost in the surrounding bushes. When on the ground it is wary and difficult of approach; but if it takes a tree, it seems less fearful, and will allow the aim of the sportsman. It is in the dry season, and particularly during the parching norths that prevail at intervals from November to March, that the Partridge, as well as one or two other species of Dove, is numerous in the lowland woods. In the summer it is much less frequently seen and then only in the deep woods.

In some districts it is very abundant, though Dr. Chamberlaine intimates that it has become scarce in the neighbourhood of Kingston. He mentions, as localities in which it may still be found, “the pastures beneath the Ferry-hills, and other cool and retired retreats in the parishes of St. Catherine’s, St. John’s, St. Ann’s, &c.” To these I can add from my own observation, that it is common about Auld Ayr and Shrewsbury woods, and abundant at Content, the Cotta-wood, and Vinegar Hill, in St. Elizabeth’s and Westmoreland. In the last named locality, a lad caught twenty or more, in springes, during two or three days, in February. It is readily kept in a cage with other Doves, and fed with maize.

In the Short Cut of Paradise, where the sweet-wood abounds, the Partridge is also numerous; in March and April when these berries are ripe, their stomachs are filled with them. Here at the same season, their cooing resounds, which is simply a very sad moan, usually uttered on the ground; but on one occasion we heard it from the limb of a cotton tree at Cave, on which the bird sitting, with its head drawn in, was shot in the very act. But at a little distance, the voice is not distinguishable from the moan of the Mountain Witch.

A notion prevails that the dark coloured bird is the male, and the rufous one the female; but I have proved the contrary, by repeated dissections.

One day in June, I went down with a young friend into a wooded valley at Content, to look at a Partridge’s nest. As we crept cautiously towards the spot, the male bird flew from it. I was surprised at its rudeness; it was nothing but half-a-dozen decayed leaves laid one on another, and on two or three dry twigs, but from the sitting of the birds it had acquired a slight hollowness, about as much as that of a skimmer. It was placed on the top, (slightly sunk among the leaves) of a small bush, not more than three feet high, whose glossy foliage and small white blossoms reminded me of a myrtle. There were two young, recently hatched; callow and peculiarly helpless, their eyes closed, their bills large and misshapen,—they bore little resemblance to birds.

On another occasion, I saw the male shot while sitting; the nest was then placed on a slender bush, about five feet from the ground. There were but two eggs, of a very pale buff colour; sometimes, however, they are considerably darker.

When seen alive, or recently killed, the affinity of the Partridge-dove to the Mountain Witch is very apparent; the stout form, the colour of the feet, of the beak, and of the eyelids, and particularly the conical form of the head, and a tendency to the projecting hood-like plumage of the occiput, help to indicate its true place. It has little resemblance to either a Zenaida or a Peristera. The flesh is very white; like that of its congener.

The woodsmen speak of a Blue Partridge, and a Red-necked Dove; the former is figured by Robinson, and is no doubt a ground pigeon. The Spanish Partridge (Starnænas cyanocephala) is not considered as indigenous in Jamaica, though it is frequently imported thither from Cuba. It may, however, yet be found in the precipitous woods of the north side; Albin, Brisson, Buffon, and Temminck, attribute it positively to our island.

Order.—GALLINÆ. (Poultry.)

Fam.—PHASIANIDÆ. (The Pheasants.)

GUINEA-FOWL.[94]

In a country whose genial climate so closely resembled its own, and which abounded with dense and tangled thickets, the well-known wandering propensities of the Guinea-fowl would no doubt cause it to become wild very soon after its introduction. It was abundant in Jamaica as a wild bird, 150 years ago, for Falconer mentions it among the wild game, in his amusing “Adventures.” I shall confine myself to a few notes of its present habits, which are in all probability those of its original condition.

The Guinea-fowl makes itself too familiar to the settlers by its depredations in the provision-grounds. In the cooler months of the year, they come in numerous coveys from the woods, and scattering themselves in the grounds at early dawn, scratch up the yams and cocoes. A large hole is dug by their vigorous feet in very short time, and the tubers exposed, which are then pecked away, so as to be almost destroyed, and quite spoiled. A little later, when the planting season begins, they do still greater damage, by digging up and devouring the seed-yams, and cocoe-heads, thus frustrating the hopes of the husbandman in the bud. “The corn is no sooner put into the ground than it is scratched out; and the peas are not only dug up by them, but shelled in the pod.” (Dr. Cham.) The sweet potato, however, as I am informed, escapes their ravages, being invariably rejected by them. To protect the growing provisions, some of the negro peasants have recourse to scarecrows, and others endeavour to capture the birds by a common rat-gin set in their way. It must, however, be quite concealed, or it may as well be at home; it is therefore sunk in the ground, and lightly covered with earth and leaves. A springe is useless, unless the cord be blackened and discoloured so as to resemble the dry trailing stem of some creeper, for they are birds of extreme caution and suspicion. It is hence extremely difficult to shoot them, their fears being readily alarmed, and their fleetness soon carrying them beyond the reach of pursuit. But the aid of a dog, even a common cur, greatly diminishes the difficulty. Pursuit by an animal whose speed exceeds their own, seems to paralyze them; they instantly betake themselves to a tree, whence they may be shot down with facility, as their whole senses appear to be concentrated upon one object, the barking cur beneath, regarding whom with attent eyes, and outstretched neck, they dare not quit their position of defence. Flight cannot be protracted by them, nor is it trusted to as a means of escape, save to the extent of gaining the elevation of a tree: the body is too heavy, the wings too short and hollow, and the sternal apparatus too weak, for flight to be any other than a painful and laborious performance.

The Guinea-fowl is sometimes caught by the following stratagem; a small quantity of corn is steeped for a night in proof rum, and is then placed in a shallow vessel, with a little fresh rum, and the water expressed from a bitter cassava, grated; this is deposited within an inclosed ground, to which the depredators resort. A small quantity of the grated cassava is then strewn over it, and it is left. The fowls eat the medicated food eagerly, and are soon found reeling about intoxicated, unable to escape, and content with thrusting the head into a corner. Frequently a large part of the flock are found dead, from this cause.

Though savoury, and in high request for the table, the Guinea-fowl sometimes acquires an insufferably rank odour, from feeding on the fetid Petiveria alliacea; and is then uneatable.

The eggs are deposited in the midst of a dense tussock of grass, to the amount of a dozen or more. It is said that occasionally the number is greatly higher; and that they are laid stratum super stratum, with leaves between. If this is true, probably more than one hen participates in the maternity. The wild bird’s egg measures 1⁷⁄₁₀ by 1⁴⁄₁₀ inch; and weighs 6 dr., 1 sc., 2 gr.—(Rob. MSS.)

Fam.—TETRAONIDÆ. (The Grouse.)

QUAIL.[95]

This beautiful game-bird, a native of North America, was introduced into Jamaica about a hundred years ago, where it was very soon naturalized, and became abundant. It is found in almost all situations, where there is cover; and from its peculiar manners, its loud call, and the sapidity of its flesh, is familiar to all.

It is scarcely seen but in coveys of a dozen or more, which run among the grass, and, if alarmed, lie so close, as to be unseen till a person is at the spot; when suddenly they rise from beneath his feet, and fly on rapid wing, and with loud whirr, to a short distance; then descending, run so swiftly as to defy pursuit. If, however, on springing a covey of Quail, we remain perfectly still, and keep a watchful eye on the spot whence they arose, we may chance to see one or two still squatting among the grass; for often some remain after their companions have departed.

Various kinds of pulse, and graminaceous seeds afford it food; in winter it lives largely on the small spotted peas of the lesser fee-fee, (Clitoria Virginiana.)

Robinson describes the egg:—“the colour, white; length 1¼, breadth ¹⁵⁄₁₆ inch. Nineteen were found in one nest.”—(MSS. iii. 159.) He afterwards says, “A nest has been known to contain no less than thirty.”

Before I dismiss the Gallinaceous birds, I may mention an interesting fact, of which Mr. Hill informed me; that the Turkey is, as far as European knowledge is concerned, indigenous to the greater Antilles, having been found by the Spanish discoverers, already domesticated by the Indians; and that the European domestic breed is descended from West Indian, and not from North American parentage. This would perhaps tend to confirm, what has been suspected, that the domestic Turkey is specifically distinct from the wild Turkey of North America.

Order.—GRALLÆ. (Waders.)

Fam.—CHARADRIADÆ. (The Plovers.)

SHORT-BILLED PLOVER.[96]

I have nothing to add to Wilson’s memoir of this little bird. About the beginning of November, they arrive in Jamaica from the north; after which they may be seen running swiftly on the mud of morasses, and on the sea-beach, in company with Sand-pipers. They feed on small mollusca, worms, &c.

KILDEER PLOVER.[97]
Tilderee.—Tell-tale.

It is in the large open pastures of the lowlands that the Tell-tale dwells. The traveller, as he passes along, is startled by the sudden rise of a dozen or twenty of these birds, almost from under his feet, before unseen, but now manifesting their presence by the shrillest cries, as they wheel swiftly round in a large circle, alighting near the spot whence they arose. In winter great numbers flock to the stony plains, which flying in a dense body afford a fair mark to the sportsman, by whom their flesh is esteemed. The majority of these birds seem to be merely winter visitants, but a few certainly do remain with us through the summer. Robinson says, they lay their eggs among the stones near the rivulets.

One which was shot and wounded in the wing I introduced to the doves, in a large packing-case, the front of which was removed, and replaced by gauze. Immediately on being put in, it began vigorously charging at the gauze, as if it had no idea of any impediment there, running backward a little way, and then dashing at it; and this without an instant’s intermission, now and then leaping up, and uttering its wild cry. For a few minutes its impetuous motions seemed to stupify all the doves, who gazed in astonishment; but presently a young Bald-pate, who occupied one of the front corners, a very cross and surly fellow, began to peck and beat the little Plover, driving him about the cage without mercy. I had been struck at the first entry of the bird with its remarkable height, owing to the length of the tarsi, and the upright, bold attitude in which it stood. At length to escape the persecutions of the Bald-pate, it suddenly squatted down in one of the back corners, bringing the tarsi flat on the ground, and the tibiæ on them, so that I was now struck with its flatness and closeness to the ground; and I saw how it is that we so often hear their cry very near, when we can see no trace of them, and often suddenly lose sight of them when watching them running. I feel assured that this squatting is the bird’s natural resource for concealment; for on being alarmed suddenly, its first impulse is to bend partially the heel, bringing the body nearer the ground; if the danger appear to increase, it brings the tarsi flat, the tibiæ still being inclined; the body seems now in contact with the ground; but a greater terror brings it still lower, so that it really appears as if half sunk in the earth; and now no advance of the danger affects it, if there be no opening to run; it lies quite passive; its resource is exhausted.

My captive lay thus unmoved for a while, though the restless Pea-doves, in running from side to side, walked over it, trampling it under foot at every turn. When it did get up, however, and came to the front, it was again instantly assaulted by the Bald-pate, who struck it with his wing, and seized its beak with his own, and pinched it. Pitying it under these inflictions, I took it out, and allowed it to run about the room. Its actions now became quite entertaining; it ran backward and forward with surprising fleetness, but, not being used to the smoothness of board, though the floor was not at all polished, and wanting the support of the back-toe, its speed was continually causing it to slip, the feet sliding forward, so as to bring the bird down upon its tail. Now and then it would stop, and make repeated efforts to jump over the skirting-board, which being black, and the wall white, I suppose it mistook the latter for empty space. While doing this, it ever and anon emitted its loud pipe with startling shrillness. Having run into a corner, it allowed me to take it up in my hand without fluttering. When it stood, it jerked its head up and down. It was exceedingly active, when not lying close for concealment; it was not still a moment; besides the flirting of the head and tail, a tremulous motion pervaded the body, so that it seemed to be shivering. When about to take a single step, this was manifested in an odd manner; the foot touching the ground three or four times before it was put down. When it had become more at home, it devoured earthworms greedily, and would pick minute shells and entomostraca from a saucer of water, in which was a root of water-cress. In the cage it delighted to stand in its water-saucer, but when loose, the saucer being placed in one corner, it would run rapidly in and out, now and then stopping to pick at the contents.

My own acquaintance with the Grallatorial and Natatorial visitants of Jamaica is but slight. On the authority of Mr. Hill, I add to the Charadriadæ above mentioned, the Ring Plover (Ægialites semipalmatus), the Golden Plover (Charadrius Virginiacus), the Squatting Plover (Squatarola Helvetica), and the Turnstone (Strepsilas interpres).

Fam.—ARDEADÆ. (The Herons.)

COMMON GAULIN.[98]

It was on the 1st of August, the anniversary of freedom to the slave, that I first met with this beautiful bird. By a singular coincidence, Sam had been just describing it to me, as a bird not yet obtained, when, scarcely five minutes after, on going into the yard, he instantly came running in, saying, “Here is a Gaulin, Sir!” I snatched up my gun and ran out, and saw the snow-white bird sitting on a castor-oil tree, just over the brook. I crept softly towards it, but there being no concealment, it took alarm, and flew before I could approach, and I lost it among the woods. I determined, however, to seek it, and bade my lad follow me. We had noted the direction which it had taken, and pursued it towards a bend of the river. Before we had gone a hundred yards through the bush, Sam sung out; and there was the bird wheeling round in the air close to us, and in a moment it alighted on the topmost twig of a low tree. I fired, nervous with expectation, and the next instant the lovely bird was at my feet, with unruffled plumage, and but a single drop of blood oozing through the neck.

Some weeks after I saw another directing its flagging flight over the pasture; it rose gradually as it proceeded, till, when over the river, it began to wheel in large circles at a considerable height. After perhaps half-a-dozen gyrations, it flew off in nearly a straight line for a quarter of a mile or more; then circled in like manner; and again pursued the same course until I lost it from sight.

The Gaulins, or Egrets, are usually shy and vigilant birds, but not invariably. One day in May, as I was riding past Cave, my attention was called to one of this species, which was fishing in the shallows off the rivulet’s mouth, whither it had resorted for several days past. Its tameness was remarkable; for negro women were washing within a few yards, and it permitted me to ride towards it, and to approach almost close, without being alarmed, merely walking slowly away; till at last, when I was within three or four yards, it slowly rose to flight, but alighted not half a stone’s cast distant. I was pleased to watch it a while, observing the spotless whiteness of its plumage, and the gracefulness of its form and motions, as it arched its beautiful neck with the elegance of a swan.

In some situations this is not a scarce bird. Passing along by railway from Kingston to Spanish Town, I have observed in June, the white forms of many Gaulins studding the verdant meadows called the Ferry marshes, taking their morning meal in the shallows, and by the borders of Fresh River. Six or eight were within the space of a hundred yards, all feeding, yet not associating.

On a moringa-tree near the house at Robin’s River, the young friend, to whom I am indebted for several notes, used to see the nest of a White Gaulin, consisting of sticks and twigs, and about as large as a washing-basin; but being in an enclosure, he could not examine it. He used often, in passing, to see the bird sitting in it, and looking fearlessly at the passengers; for it is close to the high-road. He described its beautiful appearance, as it sat in its unspotted purity, with its long neck gracefully bent into sigmoid curves, as it gazed hither and thither.

This bird is closely allied to the following species, from which it is distinguished by the colour of the beak, lores, and feet, and by the ashy tips of the quills.

BLACK-LEGGED GAULIN.[99]
Snowy Heron.—Wils.

This is much more rare than the preceding species; but two specimens having fallen under my observation, both of which occurred in the middle of the winter. It is probably a migrant from the continent; the preceding, however, is a permanent resident with us.

From the rarity of its occurrence, I can add nothing to Wilson’s account of this species; except that in the stomach of one I found twenty-nine small silvery fishes, a species of Smaris.

BLUE GAULIN.[100]
Blue Crane, or Heron.—Wils.

The slender contour of this bird, its arching purple neck, its filamentous crown-plumes, and the long pointed scapulars arching down over its back, combine with its graceful motions and delicate hue, to give this bird an aspect of peculiar elegance. Less suspicious than most of its tribe, it will frequently allow the beholder to stand and admire it, without alarm, as it stands in some shallow stream, or secluded pool, intent on its occupation, while the glassy surface gives back its beautiful form, unbroken. Its motions are deliberate and slow while watching for prey; yet its seizure of prey is sudden, and as quick as the lightning-flash. It feeds principally on small crabs and prawns; which I have always found changed in appearance, by the process of digestion; the shell reddened and the flesh coagulated, as if by boiling. In one I have found a number of minute eel-like fishes, about an inch and a quarter long, probably the fry of a muræna; in another, insects. It is usually found excessively fat.

A specimen, shot from a tree, fell into rather deep water; and though one foot was disabled, it struck out vigorously with the other, and swam in an upright posture, with the head drawn back (not struggling,) several yards, before it was seized.

It is not common enough for me to determine whether it is migratory or not; I have obtained specimens on the 16th of September and on the 9th of April, and through the intervening winter.

RED-NECKED GAULIN.[101]

I first met with this undescribed species in a little excursion up the beautiful Burnt Savanna River, on the 25th of November. The immense morass through which it flows, looking like a sea of rushes, relieved here and there by clumps of the tall and slender palmetto, affords shelter and sustenance to immense numbers of aquatic birds, in common with Black River, of which this is a main branch. Of this species of Gaulin, which is not remarkable for beauty, the only specimen, besides, that I met with, was shot by Sam, at Bluefields Creek, on the 7th of May. Both individuals had been feeding on a small species of Gobius, called mud-fish.

Though birds which feed exclusively on animal matters are ordinarily marked by the shortness of the intestinal canal, the tribe before us forms a remarkable exception to this rule; while the body of this bird was less than four inches in length, the intestine measured seventy-two inches. The neck is more than usually long in this species.

It is doubtless a permanent resident in the Island.

GREEN BITTERN.[102]
Crab-catcher.

This richly-coloured species is found wherever there is running water; and most abundantly, where in the plains the sluggish streams expand into broad reedy pools, or spongy marshes. Though perfectly solitary in its habits, one may frequently see in such situations a dozen within a quarter of a mile; and as we walk on, another and another long neck is suddenly reared above the grass, to gaze at the intruder and estimate the danger. Usually they are too wary to allow of a near approach; but this varies according to the locality; for while, in lonely places, as Paradise marshes, one may easily get within shot, in such streams as Bluefields and Robin’s River, where persons are continually passing, an approach within a long distance instantly puts the watchful bird upon the wing. In the former case it alights again immediately, but in the latter it does not stay its flight, until it gains the shelter of the woods, or a distant part of the stream. But in the morning, as soon as its appetite has been sated, its stomach gorged with prey, it often rests on some dry tree in the vicinity, whence it is less willing to fly, and may often be approached and shot with ease.

Near where the Sweet River roars and boils beneath the bridge, on the road from Bluefields to Savanna le Mar, there runs along by the side of the road, a narrow stream with grassy banks. As I was riding by, one day in July, I observed one of these Bitterns on the bank. It was not sufficiently alarmed to take flight as I passed, and I therefore drew up under the shade of a cocoa-nut palm on the other side to watch it. A few minutes it remained in suspicious stillness, eyeing me askant. At length with much deliberation it walked towards the edge, where it stood, intently watching the grass and short reeds that fringed the side. Presently it picked something from a stalk of grass, which it swallowed; it then waded slowly into the stream till the water reached above the tarsus, and there stood gazing motionless, except that now and then it suddenly altered the direction of its glance. A quick stroke of its powerful beak brought up something of considerable size, with which it walked ashore; it dropped its prey on the grass, and began to pick from it. Wishing to know what it was, I drove the bird away, but it was cunning enough to pick up its booty and carry it off, so that I was none the wiser. It was probably a root of some aquatic plant. The Bittern, however, soon returned, and taking its former place, resumed the occupation of picking insects from the grass, that grew in the stream. As it walked hither and thither, the beautiful chestnut neck was alternately thrown forward and bridled up, with a pretty affectation, and the short tail was depressed and agitated with a rapid perpendicular vibration. I would have observed it longer, but a rude group of negroes passing, it flew away over the adjacent logwood bushes.

The flight of all the Herons is flagging and laborious: I have been amused to see a Humming-bird chasing a Heron; the minuteness and arrowy swiftness of the one contrasting strangely with the expanse of wing and unwieldy motion of the other. The little aggressor appears to restrain his powers in order to annoy his adversary, dodging around him and pecking at him like one of the small frigates of Drake or Frobisher peppering one of the unwieldy galleons of the ill-fated Armada. Now and then, however, I have noticed this and other species of Heron intermit this laborious motion, and sail swiftly and gracefully on balanced wings, particularly when inclining their flight towards the earth.

When wounded, so as to be unable to fly, the Green Bittern seeks to escape by running, which it does swiftly, the neck projected horizontally, uttering a low cluck at intervals. Its ordinary call, often uttered from the morasses and mangrove swamps, is a loud scream, harsh and guttural.

In each specimen that I dissected, the stomach was enormous, occupying the whole length and breadth of the body; it usually is found distended with the larvæ of libelluladæ and dyticidæ, and with freshwater prawns. The latter lie in the stomach always in the same way; viz. doubled up, the head and tail pointing forwards, the only way in which they could be swallowed with safety.

In all the Ardeadæ that I have examined, there are on the breast two masses of filamentous down, commonly of a pale buff hue, lying just over the furcula; beneath which, attached to the inner surface of the skin, are two flat glandular bodies of singular appearance. A similar tuft and structure are found just above the tail. With their object I am quite unacquainted.

LITTLE YELLOW BITTERN.[103]
Tortoiseshell-bird.

This minute Heron is not unfrequently seen dodging about the edges of the tall reeds that clothe the morasses, or among the rank sedgy grass that borders the streams. If alarmed it does not usually fly, but darts into the rushy cover, where the thinness of its form enables it to make its way with ease. Frequently it crouches, as if hoping to lie unobserved.

The stomachs of several that I have dissected contained small fishes and Crustacea.

QUOK.[104]
Night-heron or Qua-bird.—Wils.

Though a common inhabitant of the deep and fetid morasses, where the sombre mangrove crosses its tangled roots in inextricable confusion, this fine bird is much oftener heard than seen. The superstitious negro, whose heart is in his throat if he is compelled to stir beyond his threshold by night, is often startled by the loud and hoarse quok of this bird, suddenly emitted from the dark solitudes on either side of the road, or from the branches of a tree above his head, where the bird is roosting for the night. Occasionally, when out before day, seeking some birds which are to be shot only at dawn, I have myself heard the same loud cry repeated with deliberation, while the sudden flapping of large wings told that the bird, not less startled, was seeking a station less liable to interruption, farther within the morass. In floating down such broad streams as Burnt Savanna, or Black River, where they are margined by tall overhanging mangrove-woods, we often see this bird, seated on some high branch, which commands a wide prospect; but no sooner is the canoe espied, than he spreads his immense wings, and sails heavily off with the customary vociferation. Vigilant and suspicious, it is not an easy thing to shoot the Quok, unless the sportsman see it first, and conceal himself before he is discovered, or cautiously creep towards the secluded retreat where he hears the voice. But this is almost a forlorn hope; for the senses of the bird are very acute, and he takes alarm from the slight sounds made by the most circumspect footsteps, and escapes in time. Any unusual noise will provoke the utterance of the unmusical voice; a shout, or the report of a distant gun, will be answered from several parts of the morass; and not only by this species, but in various tones by other Herons and Bitterns.

It is a noble bird; its commanding height, erect attitude, stout built frame, fiery eye, powerful beak, hanging crest, and handsome plumage, give it an imposing aspect. Crabs and other Crustacea form its principal diet; evidently swallowed entire, though often of considerable size. The flesh is dark; the fat, which is usually abundant, is of a deep yellow tinge. Notwithstanding the powerful voice of this bird, the trachea is weak, and destitute of convolution or enlargement, save at the divarication of the bronchi.

A specimen was shot in April, in the spotted plumage, which is supposed to indicate youth. It fell into the water, wounded, where it began to swim, the head erect, and the body no more immersed than that of a duck; it struck out with both feet, and made rapid way towards the roots of a mangrove near, on reaching which it jumped out of water, and ran up, but was then secured. In this state it is sometimes called the Guinea-hen Quok, from the white spots on the grey ground; and I am not sure that it is not distinct. One that was shot in May in this plumage, a female, had eggs in the ovary as large as pepper-corns.

Mr. Hill mentions to me as indigenous Ardeadæ, besides such as have come into my hands,—the Great Heron (Ardea Herodias), the Great White Heron (Egretta leuce?), the American Bittern (Botaurus minor), and the Roseate Spoon-bill (Platalea ajaja).

The first of these was not an unfamiliar visitant in the vicinity of Bluefields, being often seen by myself and others at early dawn on the sea-shore, and at the edges of the mangrove swamps. Once or twice we have known a particular tree on which the bird roosted, and Sam has repeatedly watched both before break of day and after dusk, but could never succeed in obtaining a shot at the bird, so excessive was its vigilance.

The second I once saw at a great distance while on the Burnt Savanna River in November, its long white neck towering above the thick reeds; I judged it to be between four and five feet high. At length it flew to a distant tree; the morass precluding the possibility of my gratifying my desire to possess it.

This is, I presume, the species alluded to by Mr. Hill in the former part of the following note.—“I must not omit to mention that in Cuba I saw very usually, in the small farms by the sea-side, the large White Egret or Garzota in a state of mansuetude. The Flamingo was not unfrequently its companion in this unrestrained captivity, if we may use this contradictory expression to represent a state where reconcilement to servitude included a full permission to the birds to use their wings in flight. The abundant food obtained from the refuse of the fishermen’s nets on the beach at day-break, supplied them with an early and full meal for the day, and explained the mystery of this willing captivity. In St. Domingo I visited a woodland farm, situated by the side of some fine freshwater ponds, the resort of numerous wild ducks in the season, where the submission to life among the poultry, on the part of one of the small Egrets, was the result of association only. What was most remarkable was the determination of this bird always to occupy the centre of the roost, by the side of the patriarchal cock. I stayed purposely till roosting time, to see him shift his place after gaining the roost-tree, until he got his station in the middle of the dormitory.”

In some seasons the Scarlet Ibis (Ibis rubra) is not an uncommon visitant on the shores of Jamaica; but I have not met with it. The present winter, 1846-7, Mr. Hill informs me, has brought it in somewhat numerously. On the same authority, I mention two species of Curlews, the one known as the Black Curlew, which is Numenius longirostris, the other called the White Curlew, which may be N. Hudsonicus, or perhaps Ibis alba.

Fam.—SCOLOPACIDÆ. (The Snipes.)

LITTLE SANDPIPER.[105]