Excepting a very near and more powerful cousin which inhabits the seashore and pellucid streams of California, the above species is the sole representative of its family in the United States. No bird is more distinctly characterized, and few are better known. The first sight of it, with its long-pointed, heavily-set bill, ashy-blue crest, robust and well-knit frame, and short but sinewy legs, cannot fail to leave an indelible impression upon the mind, which nothing short of mental amaurosis can obliterate.
Go where we will throughout the length and breadth of the land, and the loud, harsh cry of this bird, which resembles the noise emitted by a watchman's rattle, reminds us of its presence. Nor need we confine our journeyings to such limits. But let us venture into the barren, inhospitable realms of the North, where the stunted and poverty-pinched Esquimau resides and ekes out a somewhat precarious existence, and our friend still bears us company.
Fond of the scenes of its nativity, scarcely have their waters become released from the icy fetters of winter by the breath of Phoebus, than they are made vocal and cheerful by these proverbial and venturesome fishers. The murmuring brook, the rushing torrent, the gentle waterfall, and awe inspiring sea, all court its presence, and offer a generous and willing support.
Like love-sick swains of whom poets have delighted to sing, they seek such haunts, not more for their soothing, quieting influences, than for pleasures more substantial which they are sure to find. Here, unmolested by their great arch-enemy man, they can pursue their piscatorial occupation as suits them best. Who has not observed some lonely individual, with, apparently, every trace of care blotted out of his life, thus occupied from early morning until night-time? Those who love to quit the dust and turmoil of the city, to hold sweet communion with the visible forms of wood and dell, have been silent, speechless spectators of what we witness. However, for the benefit of such as have been denied this pleasure and privilege, we would invite them to a stroll into the country where babbling brook and quiet, sunny pond, adorn the prospect. The utmost silence must be maintained in these rambles, would you secure success. The presence of a human being upon the scene where these lordly princes of the piscine craft hold high revel, if detected, is almost sure to produce a stampede, and lead to a hasty departure. Hence, great care must be exercised in approaching their retreats, and even while quartered within the same. Once there, and snugly ensconced by environing bushes from view, you await developments. The object of your search may be but a few paces from you, and you not cognizant of it. Five minutes pass, and nothing is heard but the rumble of some distant cascade, the clatter of the stream as it laves its reedy banks and pebbled bed, or the rustle of the dry leaves around as they echo to the rabbit's heavy tread. Another space of equal length has followed after, and the moments seem lengthened into weary hours as you sit listening, and like results are your reward. But while being tossed to and fro upon the ragged edge of suspense, and almost bereft of hope, a loud, harsh rattle meets your ear. You look in the direction whence the sound came, and there, perched upon an overhanging bough just over your head, or a little to the right or left of you, stands—the very embodiment of majesty and power—the creature for whom you have been looking. Nor does he always occupy such a lofty position. Betimes, he seeks a lower level, and may be found upon a stranded, uplifted snag. Having discovered his whereabouts, you must watch him closely, for the cry which you have just heard, is the signal that precedes the assault that he is preparing to make upon some scaly denizen of the water that has had the folly to show its gilded, tempting form.
A sudden, circular plunge, accompanied by a dull, heavy splash, and the frightened, squirming fish is wrested from its native element, and swallowed in an instant. In less time than it takes to chronicle the brief event, the daring, cruel deed is accomplished, and the perpetrator thereof has regained his post, and stands ready for similar adventures. Such is the greedy and unsatisfying character of his nature that, where undisturbed, he has been known to watch for hours at a time without changing his point of lookout. It must not be supposed, however, that the quantity of food which he devours is in proportion to the time spent in its procurement. This is not the case. Due allowance must be made for disappointments and reverses, as well as for the failure of the finny tribes to manifest themselves. Tired of watching, he often varies his occupation by coursing along the stream at a small height above its surface, and stopping anon, suspended after the fashion of Hawks, to gaze into the depths below.
Nothing can be more interesting than the behavior of an individual who has miscalculated his chances, and fallen wide of his mark when plunging for prey. The very impersonation of disappointment, he retires to his post, sullen and dejected. His very attitude and looks attest the war of feelings waging within his bosom. But this is of short continuance. The thoughts of past experiences come to his rescue, and he is himself again. With the successful fellow the condition is different. Joy and happiness are depicted where, before, we saw but misery and sadness.
However intently these birds may seem to be occupied with the business before them, they are not so completely absorbed therein as to be utterly oblivious to their surroundings. Blessed with sharp vision, they are as equally favored in the direction of hearing. When the eye is engaged, like a faithful sentinel on duty the ear, whose function it is to receive and communicate vibrations of air to the brain where they are interpreted, is always on the alert, ready to warn its companion of danger.
From what has been written, it is evident that the desire for food seems uppermost in the thoughts of these birds from their first arrival—usually in March or April—until pairing commences. In its gratification, the female is the equal of her lord. Such being the case, it is unreasonable to expect any great degree, of familiarity and friendship to exist between the sexes. They, therefore, dwell apart. Accident sometimes brings them together, but beyond a silent recognition, they evince no greater regard. Thus affairs continue for a month, and even for a longer period of time, when they suddenly come to a most glorious end by the assumption of connubial relations. Nothing remarkable or impressive indicates the coming of this event. The male seems to meet his partner unawares, makes overtures of love in his own strange fashion, and becomes at once her uninfluenced choice. And thus the story is ended.
Without further ado, the wedded couple prepare for the duties of house-keeping. Usually they are spared the trouble of searching for a home. Especially is this the case with old birds, who have only to visit the scenes of other years to find a domicile awaiting occupancy. A little repairing of the galleries leading thereto, as well as the cosy, interior chamber, and the place soon wears an aspect of cheerfulness and comfort. But where these structures do not exist, they are excavated at great pains in the sides of ponds, streams, or cliffs contiguous to water. A very common place, in the latitude of Philadelphia, is in sandy, railroad cuttings. Dry, elevated grounds, beyond the reach of inundations, are ordinarily chosen, although there may be exceptions to the rule.
These burrows are the results of the alternate labors of the sexes, who work with diligence and rapidity until the task is accomplished, often making a deep excavation in a single night, when the bank is soft and sandy. The directions and depths of these holes vary: some being less than four feet, while others are more than fifteen feet deep; some being straight, and others turning either to the right or to the left before terminating in the enlarged chamber which is constructed as a place of deposit for the eggs. The time spent in the formation of a burrow depends upon the nature of the soil and the length of the shaft. Ordinarily two days are required for its completion, although instances are recalled where three, and even four days, have been occupied with the tunneling.
With the successful accomplishment of this task, nothing further remains to be done but to deposit the eggs upon the bare sand. Some birds do not deem their labor finished until they have given their home a warm lining of dried grasses and feathers. Such cases are exceptional, and dependent upon the humidity of the ground.
In 1855, Dr. Brewer discovered a nest of this species on Mt. Washington, alongside of a carriage-drive, and at a distance of a mile from any water-shallows. Another was found in a sand-bank in the village of Hingham, in close proximity to a dwelling, and quite remote from stream or pond. The authors of the latter nest were very cautious and retiring, seldom venturing out during the day, but were continually moving backward and forward at night, as evidenced by their loud, rattling cries. When with young these nocturnal excursions are not infrequent.
Speaking of the building habits of these birds, reminds us of a curious fact which occurred in the history of a male-bird, of which Mr. Dali, of Washington, was an eye-witness. On a certain occasion his attention was attracted to his lordship engaged in digging holes by the side of his nest, which were two feet in depth and eight inches in diameter, apparently for no other purpose than that of pleasure or occupation. They were invariably abandoned as soon as constructed. Once, he entered one of these burrows to eat a fish which he had captured.
Many fabulous stories have been told in ages that are past of the nest and manner of hatching of the Kingfishers, but they are too absurd and trifling to deserve more than a passing notice. The birds of our day neither construct their nests of glue or fishbones, nor commit them to the mercy of the waters to float about at random with their proprietors, but place them deep down in the earth, where they are secure from wind and rain, and the thousand perils which threaten the homes of their less sagacious neighbors. Into these secret recesses the females place their pure white, nearly spherical treasures, to the number of six, on as many consecutive clays. These beautiful solids exhibit not more than ordinary variation in size, and rarely exceed 1.31 of an inch in length, and 1.06 in breadth from the most diverse localities.
By the beginning of June, sometimes two months earlier in the semi-tropical sections of our country, the young, through the patient setting of the mother-bird, make their appearance. While she is thus concerned for fourteen long, weary days, her partner plays the role of a very faithful and attentive husband, amply providing for her sustenance. Both parents show great affection for their little family, and watch over it with jealous and assiduous care. Weak and fragile creatures as they are at birth, they cannot digest the unprepared food of adults, but must needs have it reduced to a pulpy state by a process of maceration. Later on this is discontinued, and the birdlings perform the important duty for themselves. At the age of fifteen days they are old enough to quit the nest, but usually remain a brief period longer, when they venture out and try the fortunes of the outside world. At nights they return to the hole where they were fledged, and also during rainy weather, until the last of October, or the middle of November, when they leave their parents, and like the latter, separate and wend their flight to the South, or to regions beyond. When the season is unusually propitious, they seek more sheltered localities, and spend the winter with us.
From the male the female, as shown in the drawing, is readily distinguished, by having the sides of the body and a transverse band across the abdominal region, and slightly posterior to the bluish one of the breast, light-chestnut, the pectoral band' being more or less tinged with the same color. The young resemble the mother in the fall, but when spring re-appears, the males present themselves in the paternal garb. The length of the adult is about twelve and three-quarters inches; that of the wing, six, and sometimes more. The small opening in the embankment shows the entrance to a nest, and a female making her way thither.
Considerable misapprehension exists in relation to the popular appellation applied to this species. In some parts of the country it is dubbed the Partridge, while in others it goes by the name of Pheasant. It is neither. All its affinities point away from these families, in the direction of the True Grouse, of which it constitutes a useful and interesting member. Pheasants are never found in the United States, but are indigenous to Southern Asia. Their nearest representative here is the Wild Turkey. Almost as much may be said of the Partridge, a group of birds 'which are exclusive denizens of the Old World. To save further confusion, we have thought it best to perpetuate in this work the title given above. While it can offer no violence to scientific accuracy, it cannot be otherwise than acceptable to the common sense of the masses, although it be less euphonious than its contemporaries. The wear and tear of constant use will soften its asperities and harshness, and render it, in the long run, agreeable as it is appropriate.
This matter settled, we shall proceed at once to the subject. Few Grouse are better known, and none more esteemed for its flesh, than the one we have chosen for a few remarks. Everywhere throughout the timbered regions of Eastern North America it is more or less plentiful, ranging from the Atlantic seaboard to the Rocky Mountains, and from Georgia to Nova Scotia. As far north as the 56th parallel it is said by Richardson to abound in small flocks which show considerable lack of suspicion and timidity. In all our Southern States, Louisiana excepted, they exist to some extent, and are also to be found over limited portions of the Missouri Region, but, doubtless, more especially about the mouth of the river, and the contiguous country. In the western parts of the region it is represented by a form which passes with ornithologists as a well-defined, genuine variety. In California, it is presumed to be wanting, as Dr. Newberry did not encounter any specimens in his explorations; but in the wooded sections of the Cascade Range, where it exists under a new varietal name, and also in the valley of the Willamet in Oregon, it is by no means an uncommon occupant. It is in the New England, Middle Atlantic and Northern Central States that these birds are to be seen to best advantage, and in greatest numbers. West of the Mississippi, if we exclude Eastern Kansas, Southern Iowa and the whole of Missouri, they occur, if at all, in comparatively small and isolated parties.
In regions which these Grouse inhabit, they are permanent residents, and are never known to move southward with the retreat of warm weather. They are capable of adapting themselves to climatic variations with ease, but not so readily to surface irregularities and their natural concomitants. Dense woods, craggy mountain-sides, and the borders of streams, are noted places of resort. Lowlands, especially such as are invested with thick growths of small bushes and tall rank grasses, are not infrequently chosen. When in quest of food and gravel, they are known to quit their favorite haunts, and betake themselves to the open road, where groups may be seen absorbed in feeding. Not to that extent, however, when the rustle of a moving leaf, or the crackling of a twig, would pass unnoticed. The slightest noise causes a temporary suspension of labor, and a shudder of surprise. All of a sudden, and in the most perfect harmony, all heads are raised and pointing in the direction whence the noise proceeded. The keen visions of these birds are not slow in discerning through the gloomy recesses the presence of danger. Should nothing of an alarming character manifest itself, a short parley ensues, and business is resumed, but not with the same earnestness and apparent lack of care as before. Greater caution is observable, and every effort taken to prevent an ambuscade. But let the cause of the alarm, in the shape of clog or man, be close at hand, and the birds immediately strike for the cover, either on foot, or by means of flight. The latter method is only adopted in extreme cases, when the other course would be attended by disaster and probable ruin. In the exercise of their cursorial powers, they move with remarkable swiftness, as with head depressed, and tail expanded, they run for their lives. A pile of brushwood, or an impenetrable jungle, when near, is rendered subservient. There they manage to conceal themselves for a time, and thus recover breath. If closely pursued, and in danger of being trampled upon by the foot of the huntsman, or lacerated by the fangs of his quadrupedal friend, they await the opportune moment when, with sudden, whirring wings, they cleave the elastic ether, and vigorously press forward to some transitory haven of security, but to fall once more in the way of their relentless persecutors. These flights are so well-timed and unexpected that many an experienced gunner is thrown off his guard, and when, at last, he has recovered from his surprise and collected his thoughts, feels vexed at himself for allowing his equanimity to become unsettled by so familiar a strategem. He finds it useless to repine, but endeavors to choke down the bitter sigh of disappointment that arises, as he presses forward to further adventures.
Like the common domestic Hen, these Grouse are strictly gregarious, especially during the autumnal and winter months. The flocks which they form vary in numbers, and when disturbed while feeding, scatter in all directions, each member seeking only its own individual safety and wellbeing. But after the lapse of a few minutes, they become reassured, and begin to gather simultaneously about the same spot, traveling the entire distance on foot. The utmost circumspection and vigilance are always exercised in these backward movements. Scarcity of food occasionally causes these birds, where very numerous in mountainous districts, to migrate to other places. These journeys are usually effected about the middle of October, they then being in excellent order and in great demand for the table. Audubon witnessed, in the fall of 1820, an immense number in transitu from Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, to Kentucky. Many of these became the prey of man, while their companions who had escaped destruction sought, with the return of Spring, their own cherished haunts. This disposition to lead a roving, migratory life, as a general thing, is not hereditary, and is seldom undertaken. Plenty of food is usually to be found in localities which these birds frequent, and the necessity does not exist. Where there is a paucity of appropriate food-stuffs, such as acorns, the seeds of the beech and of the various species of birch, they do not hesitate to devour the buds of the Mountain Laurel, which imparts a poisonous character to their flesh. When severely pressed by hunger, they feed upon dry bark, the insects that harbor in the creviced trunks and branches of trees, and even stray to the roads that wander through their gloomy retreats, and pick at the hard, frozen horse-droppings which they chance to encounter. But when Spring returns, and renews her bond of faith with mother Earth, they more than make up for their scanty winter fare, and feast with fastidious appetites upon the now tender and juicy buds of the black birch, which gives a peculiar and toothsome flavor to their flesh, that has acquired for them, in some localities, the name of Birch Partridge. For a brief spell every other interest is now absorbed in that of unrestrained feasting to which the sexes submit themselves with all the abandon of civilized humanity. The middle of March, or the close of the month devoted by the ancient Romans to purifications and fastings that precedes, when the weather is favorable, marks a change in their life. This era is announced by a loud druming noise which is everywhere to be heard. Standing upon a tall rock, or a fallen log, in some secluded woods or other locality, the author of this noise may be found. His altitude and demeanor must be observed to be appreciated. Once seen, he can never be forgotten. Arrayed in his new spring-suit, he is a being not to be despised. But this is not all. His beautifully-contracted neck, broad, expanded, fan-like tail, and elevated feather-tufts that ornament both sides of his neck, as he struts about with all the grace 'and dignity of some pompous lord or duke, render him of no mean importance, and add greatly to his attractiveness.
But it is its final actions that impress the beholder with wonder and admiration. The hitherto trailing wings now assume a condition of rigidity, and commence a firm, but slow, downward and forward movement, which steadily increases in power and rapidity, until the swiftly-vibrating wings appear only as a semi-circular outline of mist above the bird, thus giving rise to a sound which may be appropriately likened to the reverberations of distant, muttering thunder. These sounds are most generally heard during the cool hours of the morning, when the spirits are buoyant after a night of refreshing slumber. But as the day advances, they are less frequent, and irregular. So nicely can they be imitated, that many a bird is drawn to his doom, when advancing to meet a supposed antagonist.
As the drumming of the Ruffed Grouse is as often heard in fall as in spring, it has long been a mooted question as to its significancy as the call-note of the male during the breeding-period. But there cannot be the least doubt of the correctness of this interpretation, for we have the most incontestable proof of it in the responsive actions of the female. Nuttall is probably correct in ascribing the autumnal exhibition of the same wonderful power to self-gratification, and in affirming it to be, in many instances, "an instinctive expression of hilarity and vigor."
Besides the peculiar drumming sound which the males produce during the love-season, they give expression to vocal utterances which are no less remarkable. These are generally given forth when about to arise from the ground, and consist of two well-defined and characteristic notes. The first may be described as a sort of cackle, repeated several times in lively succession. The other, which closely follows in its wake, is a peculiar lisping whistle, which has not inaptly been compared to the cry of a young bird. These notes doubtless play a part in the reconcilement and bringing together of the sexes after their temporary separation.
While the courting-season continues, it is not an uncommon occurrence to find a single male in the midst of several females, before whom he is engaged in showing off his many good qualities and graces. In such a dilemma, it is no easy matter to make a selection. Enamored by so many, he is sometimes disposed to be gay and trifling, and to dally with the affections of some pure and simple-minded female. Thus we often find him carrying on the most cruel flirtations. But when he does bring himself earnestly down to the business of choosing a partner, he does not go about it in an uncertain, hesitating manner, but makes his selection with promptness and dispatch. The successful female, proud of the honor conferred, at the call of her lord, forsakes the group of unmarried sisters, and follows him wherever he listeth. The warmest tokens of affection and regard are lavished upon her, and woe to the rival who should appear upon the scene while these amours are being enacted. Should such an event come to pass, the intruder is at once assailed, and a long and bloody encounter ensues, which results in the death of one or other of the combatants, but never in the complete vanquishment of the defensive party. Instances are known where males have treated their first choice with cruel indifference, and ultimately deserted them. Such things could not otherwise be when the question of polygamy comes to be considered, for it is a fact that both birds are slightly promiscuous in their intercourse, although the tendency is more marked upon the part of the male.
The time of mating varies somewhat with climate, and with the conditions of the season. In the warm sections of the South it occurs late in March, or early in April. But further north where winter still lingers with frosty coldness, the latter month is well nigh verging to its close, or gliding into the succeeding period, before this essential business is thought of. But when it does happen, with but little waste of time, the female withdraws herself from the society of her partner, and repairs to a secluded spot in the midst of a woods, where usually beneath a clump of evergreen, or a pile of brush, or perhaps a fallen log or projecting rock, she hastily scratches a few dry leaves together for a nest. Here she deposits, one by one, in as many consecutive days, her complement of six to twelve eggs, and immediately enters upon the duties of incubation. In this she is alone, the male lending no assistance, not even indirectly by attending to her demands for food. While she is thus occupied, he seeks the company of others of his sex, with whom he remains until the young are nearly full-grown, when he joins the family, and dwells with it until spring. The period of incubation ranges from nineteen to twenty days.
When first hatched, the young follow their mother, and soon learn to comprehend her clucking call, as well as act responsively thereto. Few mothers are more devoted to their children, and it is a rare occasion to find one who is more courageous and wily in their defence. Let her family be surprised by friend or foe, a single note of alarm is all that is necessary to cause the brood to scatter, and with the most clever adroitness to hide themselves beneath a bunch of leaves or grass. So successfully is the concealment accomplished, that a careful and protracted search is often necessary to discover their whereabouts. Often when squatting by the roadside with her brood, the parent is taken unawares. This is the trial which she of all others seems to dread. To save her little ones she perils her own life by venturing upon an assault. Her first impulse is to fly at the face of the intruding party, but sober thought comes to her rescue, and teaches her the folly of such a course. She yields, and the very next moment we find her tumbling over and over upon the ground, apparently in the deepest distress, but soon to recover her self-possession in time to carry out the final piece upon the programme—a ruse in which lameness is imitated with wonderful ingenuity. While the mother is thus agitated, the birdlings are seen to scamper in every direction to places of shelter. Having accomplished her allotted part, the happy mother now flies away, and by her well-known cluck soon gathers her brood together. The cry of the young is a simple peet, which is heard repeatedly during feeding, but only occasionally while nestling. Their food consists of the seeds of various plants, and berries. While able to search for their own food, they derive considerable assistance from the mother.
Such cunning, wee creatures, when first they leave the egg, can only be compared with the young of our barnyard fowls. Dressed in a simple garb, they look but little like their parents. Above they show a uniform reddish-brown or rufous color, which fades into a rusty-white hue below. With the exception of a dusky streak which starts from the posterior part of the eye and crosses the auricular regions obliquely downward, and a whitish bill, they have nothing to diversify the monotony of their coloring. But when they have attained the age of four or five months, they show their heredity so plainly that their identity cannot be disputed or mistaken.
In the adult stage the tail is reddish-brown or gray above, with narrow bars of black. Terminally, it is crossed by a slender band of pale ash, which is preceded by a broader one of black, and this by another of an ashy color. The upper parts are ochraceous-brown, and finely mottled with grayish markings. The lower parts are chiefly white, with broad transverse bars of light brown, which are mostly hidden from view upon the abdomen. Upon the shoulders the shafts of the feathers have pale streaks, which exist in those of the wing-coverts. The upper tail-coverts and the wings are marked with pale grayish cordate spots, while the lower tail-coverts are pale ochraceous, each being provided with a terminal deltashaped spot of white, which is bordered with dusky. The neck-tufts are brownish-black. The male measures eighteen inches in length, and has a breadth of wings of seven and two-tenths inches. The tail is about seven inches long. The female is smaller than the latter, with similar colors, but has less prominent tufts upon the sides of the neck.
The eggs of this species are usually of a uniform dark cream color, but sometimes show a nearly pure-white ground. In most specimens there are no markings at all, but when they do occur, are either quite numerous and conspicuous, or few in number, and obscure. They are usually ovoidal, but forms are occasionally met with which are nearly spherical. Their average dimensions, as obtained from specimens from the most diverse localities, are about 1.64 to 1.18 inches. As far as we have been able to determine the species has never been known to produce more than a single brood. Usually nesting is performed on the ground, as shown in the cut, but instances are recorded by Samuels where the female has occupied a deserted Crow's nest, or the shelter of some tall broken trunk of a tree.
For diminutiveness of size, nimbleness and grace of action, this species stands alone among its kin, and has been very properly likened in its movements to the sprightly, elfish Humming-bird. This comparison holds true in this latter particular, as those who have had the privilege of watching these Terns in their pleasurable aerial diversions can testify, but there is lacking that essentiality which makes the other seem, when fluttering before a tulip, a mere materialized sylph from the land of dreams.
Nothing can give the enthusiastic lover of Nature more true and unalloyed happiness than the study of our aquatic friend in his own loved haunts, and while in the delightful exercise of his volant powers.
His majestic sailing through the pellucid atmosphere, whether for pleasure or game, the beautiful equipoise of body as on motionless wings he hangs suspended above the liquid abyss below, the sudden, impetuous, hawk-like plunge when some luckless sprat rises to view, and last, but not least, the easy manner with which he arrests his downward course and bounds aloft, must be seen to form an adequate conception of the wonderful powers of flight with which the least of all our Terns is endowed.
Although fond of the deep-blue sea, with its sad and never-ending-monotone, and the dreary, almost barren waste of sands that line its tortuous, plantless shores, it is by no means an exclusive dweller by such haunts. Inspired by a love of adventure, and burning for new sights and forms of life, it quits the shadow of Neptune's trident, and wends its way up the various water-courses that tend seaward, to quieter inland scenes.
While more especially abundant in maritime regions, it is, however, more general in tracts remote therefrom than has been commonly supposed. So that instead of the whole vast army betaking themselves to the thousand miles stretching along the Atlantic, many from the Gulf in the South, may be seen, when the tide of migration has set in, wending their ways in small parties along the vast central artery of our land to the distant valley of the Missouri, and elsewhere. Towards the setting sun, another current takes its northward course, but spends its strength on the mild, equable shores of California before any considerable elevation is attained.
Whence come these birds? This is a question that is often asked, but most difficult of solution. That they winter beyond the borders of the United States there can be no doubt. After quitting our shores, it is highly probable they seek the tropical realms of Central America, or the breezy isles of the Larger Antilles.
But wherever they go, there they remain until the snows of their northern homes have disappeared. So delicate and susceptible to cold are they that even along our Southern sea-bordering States, where the felicitous change first manifests itself, they delay their visit until the early days of April are come. But it is not until this delightful month of the year has stepped aside to welcome her smiling sister, that the cooler shores of New Jersey are reached. From this latitude they pursue their journey to the extreme limits of their habitat.
After a little they settle down to the very important business which has inspired the journey. The twenty-fifth of May, or the beginning of the month sacred to Juno, marks the love-season, which is of short continuance. Having accomplished their loves and selected partners, the sexes now turn their attention to household matters. The first thing to be done is the selection of a spot and the preparation of a home. This part of the business pertains exclusively to the female, and, seemingly, is accounted of trifling moment. Like most of her terrestrial, and many of her aquatic neighbors, she does not build a house, but on the pebbly shingle just back of the beach, places her eggs on the bare ground, with not so much as a bit of sea-weed or of grass beneath them. The merest apology of a nest is often denied them.
The number of eggs deposited varies from one to two, the latter being the ordinary number. Instances are recorded where as many as three have been found as a nest-complement, but there certainly must be some mistake, which could easily happen in localities where many birds are breeding together. Where more than one is laid, a day usually intervenes between the two deposits. Nothing is more difficult to find, even when plentiful, than the eggs of this species, owing to the similarity of their color to the surroundings. Their ground sometimes presents a greenish-white color, but tends more to olivaceous or dull drab. The markings are numerous, pretty generally diffused, but when of large size, are mostly wreathed about the larger extremity. They consist of irregular blotches and dots of different shades of brown, interspersed with numerous obscure spots of lilac. Their average measurements are 1.26 by 1.02 inches.
Having committed her treasures to mother-earth, the female has little else to do than to guard them from harm. The heat of the sand, when the skies are undimmed by cloud or mist, is sufficient for hatching purposes. The application of living heat, so to speak, is unnecessary, and it is even a question in our minds whether the female could endure the inconvenience and trials of the incubating process, in the midst of a broiling sun upon a sandy sea-shore. But during wet and stormy weather, and at night, this duty is actually incumbent upon her.
The appearance of the young, after a period of sixteen or seventeen days, brings the parents nearer together, and keeps them more at home. While kind and affectionate to each other, it is the attention which they bestow upon their happy little family that commands our admiration, and gives special prominence to their character. With true parental instinct they watch over their early helplessness, and provide them with an abundance of wholesome diet. Beetles, spiders, crickets and other insects, as well as prawns, shrimps, skippers and small fish, form their dietary. But it is not only by feeding them that they conserve to their well-being, but also by protecting them when assailed by enemies. The sight of an intruder is greeted with shrill cries of remonstrance from a whole chorus of voices. This not having the desired effect, a score of angry birds of both sexes dash boldly upon him, as though to punish him for such rashness.
By the middle of June the earliest broods are on the wing. This, however, is rather premature, for the greater part are not in a condition for flight until the fore part of the month after. Associated with them may often be seen plenty of immature birds of last summer's hatchings, as well as the adults themselves. The yearlings are easily distinguished by the black bill, slightly forked tail, slate-colored occiput and auriculars, imperfect coloration of the primaries, absence of black cap or white crescent, and the presence of a dark band along the edge of the wing. With birds of the season, which show a strangely-variegated dress of grayish-brown and white, there is no possibility of being mistaken or confounded. The assumption of the perfect plumage usually requires a period of two years. Both sexes are similarly clad. During the breeding-season they have the entire upper parts and wings of a clear bluish-gray, variegated with a triangular white spot on the forehead reaching to the eye, and deep black crown and occiput, as well as a line from the eye to the upper mandible of the same color. The first ten primary wing feathers have the shafts black, the outer webs and half the inner next the shaft, grayish-black, ends concolorous, and inner margins white. The remaining primaries are of the same color as the back, with inner margins white. Excepting the outer borders of the external feathers, and the inner webs of the others basally, which are white, the tail is slaty. The whole under parts are of a lustrous white color, while the bill is a pale orange-yellow, iris hazel, and legs and feet a light orange-red. The length of these birds is about nine inches; their wings six and three-quarters, and the tail a trifle more than one-half of the latter measurement. Young birds are correspondingly smaller.
Inhabiting the vast continents lying to the eastward of our own, exists a family of birds popularly known as Stone-chats. Though mainly denizens of the Old World, yet they are not without their representatives in the New. To this group belongs the genus Sialia, notwithstanding the possession of structural peculiarities which ally it to the Thrushes. Of aves claiming such affinity, none is better known than the above species.
Throughout the eastern faunal area of North America, from Georgia and Louisiana to the 48th parallel of north latitude, and westward to the highlands of the Mississippi, our genial, sky-blue friend abounds, in varying numbers, and rears its triple brood. Along the Atlantic seaboard, it never ventures as far north as it does in the interior, being rarely observed beyond the Penobscot River, although Verrill met with it in abundance in Western Maine. Six hundred miles out at sea, in the delightful climate of the Bermudas, it finds a permanent residence, and is also to be seen in Spanish Cuba, but only on rare occasions. Among the lofty ridges and open table-lands of the Rockies, it never occurs, but gives place to an apparently hardier species, the Arctic Bluebird of naturalists; while west of this vast mountain barrier, another form prevails.
So strongly attached to the natal spot do these birds become, that it is with profound feelings of regret that they leave it. It is only when the rigors and snows of our northern winters have denied them a living, and thus rendered a longer sojourn impossible, that they take their departure for the South. Here they while away the dreary hours as best they can, until the returning footsteps of Sol have announced the glad tidings that the hallowed, time-honored haunts of the north will soon once more appear in beautiful habiliments of green. Excepting such as spend their entire lives in semi-tropical abodes, there is manifest an intense longing to be gone, which must necessarily detract from the happiness of their migratory brethren. This emotion often grows to such strength, that even in the mild, sunny weather of February, with which earth sometimes indulges her children, the brown, scored and pitted face of Nature is often rejoiced with their delightful presence. Amid the desolation which everywhere abounds, they dart upon the vision like the first gleam of sunshine after a day of dark and rainy weather. The bright, ruddy glow that burns upon the breast, as if in cruel mockery of earth's coldness, and the rich depth of coloring of the back, before whose vivid azure the very heavens seem to pale, are in striking contrast to objects around, and thrill the soul of man with gladness as the wearers of these charming hues are the bearers of glad intelligence, for they come to remind us that laughing field and babbling runnel have not entirely deserted us, but will return to enliven the prospect when a few more days have rung their changes on the endless cycle of time.
But while a few home-sick individuals thus come among us, ere the backbone of winter has been broken, to renew old friendships, and point to bonnier times, it is not until the first sunny days of March have made their appearance, that the tide of emigration is said to set in with earnestness. Coming from no great distance, they are not long on the journey, and in a few days are pretty well established in the old habitats. At first they are seen in open fields, or loitering about the outskirts of woods. In rural situations they are not slow in working their way into old orchards, and the yards adjoining human habitations. But wherever they take up their quarters, they are sure to make themselves friends. Few species are more encouraged to build about our domains, and none are in greater repute. While the Robin and Orioles do immense service in the destruction of thousands of obnoxious insects, they frequently offset this good character by the mischief which they commit upon our fruit-trees while in blossom. Not so with the Bluebird. He disdains such meanness, and labors solely for man's interests.
Arrived in our midst, he does not foolishly waste his time in riotous living, and worse than bacchanalian riot, but goes directly to the work which has called him North. Consequently, from many a field and forest-border may be heard the soft, plaintive notes of the male. These notes are singularly pleasing and touching, and are well calculated to arouse a feeling of sympathy in the bosom of the most inhuman of men. At this period, which marks the incipient stages of courting, he is heard to the best advantage, although occasionally through the summer, and in the fall when preparing to leave us, he is known to descant somewhat similar strains, but with less of pathos and effort. The following syllabic language is as accurate a representation of the song as it is possible to express it by human vocal characters: tür-r-r-r-wâ, tïir-wüh-tür-r-r-wû, tür-r-r-h' wêêt. While engaged in its rendition from the topmost bough of a cedar, or the uppermost rail of a fence, his attitude shows such complete absorption in the subject, and such obliviousness to place and surroundings, as to awaken the profoundest wonder. The approach of footsteps is unheeded, and many a time we have made our way to within a few paces of one of these famous minstrels, without producing momentary surprise, or the least disarrangement of the harmony. All the while the concert is going on, the female is in the immediate vicinity, silent and motionless, and apparently drinking in its full import. But after a little the music ceases. The performer now leaves his post, flies towards the listening and solitary auditor, hangs on quivering wings suspended before her, and thus having made obsequious obeisance, alights a short distance away to ascertain the effects of all these efforts to please. Again and again, at regular intervals, the performance is repeated, and at last the female succumbs to the magnetic influence, and becomes a bride. All this is accomplished in less than a week from the time of arrival, long before most other small birds have thought of conjugal responsibilities.
By the tenth of March the happy couple are ready to go house-hunting. The female assumes the direction, and it is not long before they are suited. Their usual nesting-place is some cranny in a dead tree, or the vacant hole of a departed Woodpecker. The snapping off of a time-honored limb has often opened the way for a snug retreat. Almost any nook or cavity will answer in a pinch. Birds have been known to build in a deep fissure between the branches of a tree, in a broken tin water-spout under the eaves of a building, between the blind and sash of an almost forsaken window, in the stolen home of some eave swallow, in boxes and gourds, or occasionally in the forked branch of an apple-tree.
When a garden or orchard is chosen, objections are sometimes made by other species, and frequent encounters are recorded between the Bluebirds and such Wrens, Martins and Sparrows as deem themselves to have been badly treated by the former. In these affrays, contrary to expectation, the Bluebird is usually victorious, being more than a match for the smallest of our Woodpeckers, and even lording it over such professional fighters as the English Sparrow. But his pluckiest and most inveterate enemy is the House Wren. This tiny buccaneer will often visit the Bluebird's snug house, while the mistress is absent, and after raking out the materials, remain in possession. Any attempt, however, at interference when the family is within, is treated as an insult, and summarily avenged Generally Madam Bluebird and her husband are such gentle, quiet bodies that they never think of molesting their neighbors. As in well-regulated human communities, there are individuals who are not above such meanness. A case in point came under our observation some five or six years ago. A pair of Great-crested Flycatchers, finding an empty tomato-can secured to the top of a post, had made it their home and treasure-house. Shortly afterwards a pair of Bluebirds came upon the scene, and coveting the cosy quarters, sought to expel the rightful owners. The Flycatchers resisted, and the property-owner, desirous of ending the disturbance, shot the female Bluebird. The male immediately flew away, but to return in the course of a half-hour with two females. The contest was renewed, and victory decided in his favor. The Flycatchers, however, did not retire until they had thrown out the nesting-materials, a portion of which they afterwards carried away to use elsewhere. After the defeat the Bluebird selected a partner from his allies, and the unfortunate female gracefully retired. The proprietor, perceiving a strong predilection upon the part of the Bluebirds for the can, determined to annoy them awhile, and fastened a lath across the entrance, and watched the result. The birds set to work, and the piece was dislodged. They built their nest, deposited their eggs, and raised their broods, which they fed upon two species of turnip butterfly, and the wingless bodies of Spilosoma, a moth destructive to the grape.
Into their domicile the birds convey a good deal of grass, which they cover with a soft layer of hair, feathers and wool. While the male assists at this labor, the arrangement of details involved in the preparation of the furniture, falls to the lot of his partner. While she is thus busy, he relieves the tedium of the task by a song, and a few caresses. In the Northern States the nest is finished and the first eggs deposited by the 10th of April; in the South much earlier. Why the Bluebird selects cavities as nesting places, does not readily appear. Being an early breeder, such situations best secure warmth and shelter for the young. In primitive times hollow trees were doubtless occupied more generally than at present by all birds, just as now they are constantly used as hospitia by our winter residents during disagreeable weather. The Bluebird learned to build in cavities by first using such places for shelter during cold, vernal storms, and perceiving their comfort, has come to regard them as appropriate quarters for nesting. Thus what was merely accidental to their ancestors, has now become intuitive and habitual to the race. Protection against rapacious birds is also secured, which would not be gained if the bright plumage of the female were exposed in an open nest.
As no dampness is to be dried, laying follows closely upon the completion of the nest, and continues for a period of five clays, one egg being laid daily. They are usually of a sky-blue color, spotless, and have an actual measurement of .82 by .61 inches. Mr. Ingersoll once found in Loraine County, Ohio, a nest of five eggs, all of which were pure lustrous white, like those of a Woodpecker. Similar instances have come to our knowledge since the above was recorded. In the work of incubation, the male occasionally relieves his partner, but when not thus engaged, lie is very attentive, and often cheers the monotony of her task by a soft, agreeable warble. He is also now very jealous. Not a bird is permitted to trespass upon his premises. If surprised upon the nest, the female makes no effort to escape as long as untouched; but waits until you have withdrawn to a safe distance before flying from the hole. When hatched, the young are watched over with the greatest care, and fed alternately by each parent. Their food consists of flies, earthworms, young of beetles, moths, butterflies, etc. When able to shift for themselves, they are entrusted to the care of the male, while the female busies herself in preparing for the second brood. The old nest is renovated and refurnished, and she again sits, depending upon her affectionate and trustful mate for the support of both herself and the brood which, as it sometimes happens, are not fairly out of the way when the second family of young are ushered into existence. As many as three broods are occasionally raised, when the season has been long and favorable.
Young males of the year are easily distinguished. They are dull brown on the head and back, and have the lesser coverts streaked with white. The throat and fore part of the breast are marked with similar stripes, while the rest of the coloration, with the exception of the brownish edges of the tertial wing-feathers, is somewhat similar to that of the adult. The entire upper parts, including tail and wings, of the latter, are of a continuous and azure-blue color. The cheeks are of the same hue, but duller. The under parts, the abdomen, anal region (and under tail-coverts, which are white, excluded), are reddish-brown. The bill and feet are black, and the same may be said of the shafts of the quills and tail-feathers. From her partner, the female differs in being less blue, and in having a brownish cast upon the head and back. In size, they hardly vary. Their length is six and three-fourths inches, wing four, tail two and nine-tenths.