Voice.—John T. Nichols contributes the following on the calls of this species:
The most common loud call of the western sandpiper has the ee sound found in the kreep of the least sandpiper, a plaintive quality as in the voice of the sanderling, and suggests somewhat the squawk of a young robin. It is variable and may be written chee-rp, cheep, or chir-eep. It seems to be the flight note of the species, corresponding to the cherk of the semipalmated sandpiper, and is also used by a bird on the ground calling to others in the air which alight with it, as such flight notes sometimes are. Its closest resemblance with a note of the semipalmated is to the serup sometimes heard from that bird when flushing.
Some of the calls of the western are apparently indistinguishable from those of the semipalmated sandpiper, but as studied on the northwest coast of Florida, where it greatly outnumbered the other form, more seemed different. Birds took wing with a sirp, or at another time a chir-ir-ip, which heard also in a medley of variations from a flock already on the wing, suggesting the notes of the horned lark, may be more or less analogous with the short flocking note of the semipalmated sandpiper.
Field marks.—It is most difficult and often impossible to distinguish between the western and the semipalmated sandpipers in life; and I have experienced difficulty in distinguishing between them even in the hand. The western has a longer bill, and I believe that the bill measurements of corresponding sexes do not overlap, though they approach very closely; but the longest-billed female semipalmated may have a longer bill than the shortest-billed male western. In spring and summer plumages the western shows much more rufous in the upper parts and is more conspicuously and more heavily streaked on the breast, but in winter plumage the two species are very much alike. Mr. Nichols has given me a few characters by which this species can be recognized even in winter; he calls it "a somewhat larger, rangier, paler, grayer bird" than the semipalmated; it also has "better developed white stripes over the eyes which meet more broadly on the forehead, the top of the head is not so dark, its dark auricular area is not so prominent, the markings on the top, and particularly on the sides, of the head and neck are finer.
As to the bills, he says:
There is a subtle difference in their bills, however, which I have frequently noticed in life and once or twice checked by taking specimens. The bill of a long-billed semipalmated sandpiper is quite straight and becomes slender toward the end; that of a short-billed western is not so slender toward the end and with just an appreciable downward bend before its tip. In long-billed individuals of the western sandpiper the bill becomes slender toward the end and frequently has a decided drop at the tip. Such birds are unmistakably different to anyone thoroughly familiar with the semipalmated sandpiper.
Fall.—Like many other waders, these little sandpipers begin to move off their breeding grounds at a very early date. As early as June 21, 1914, F. S. Hersey saw western sandpipers flocking at the mouth of the Yukon River, Alaska. Some of the flocks contained from 40 to 60 birds. The larger flocks were all of this species, but the smaller flocks often contained one long-billed dowitcher.
Doctor Nelson (1887) says, of its fall wanderings:
Early in July the young are on the wing and begin to gather in flocks toward the 1st of August. The last of these birds are seen on the coast of Norton Sound and the Yukon mouth the 1st of October. Although it is not recorded from the Seal and Aleutian Islands, I have seen the bird at St. Lawrence Island, south of Bering Straits, and at several points along the northeastern coast of Siberia, and it frequents the Arctic coasts of Alaska in addition to being found throughout the interior along streams where suitable flats occur. Murdoch notes it as a fall visitor at Point Barrow. It has been found in abundance on the southeast coast of the Territory, where it occurs during the migrations.
On the coast of British Columbia and farther south it is an abundant fall migrant, but it is rare or casual inland; the first arrivals sometimes reach California before the middle of July. Migration records for the great interior are almost entirely lacking and how it reaches the Atlantic coast, where it is so abundant in fall and winter, is a mystery.
Mr. Nichols wrote to me as follows:
The occurrence of this bird on the North Atlantic coast of the United States is irregular. At times it is really numerous on Long Island over periods of several years, and then it becomes rare again. In the 1912 southward migration the western was carefully looked for among the abundant semipalmated sandpiper but no evidence of its presence was found. In 1913 a single bird with a very white head and a peculiar note suggesting a young robin was, I now feel confident, a western sandpiper, at the time it passed as unidentified. The following year one of the white-headed long-billed juvenal westerns was picked out in a flock of semipalmated in August and collected. Later several others, all well-marked birds were identified in flocks of the semipalmated. In 1916 and 1917 the species was still more numerous. On October 12, 1917, at Long Beach with R. C. Murphy it was estimated that about one-half the Ereunetes were this, one-half the common eastern form. Specimens of each were obtained from gunners present. The following year (1918) a flock on the beach in late spring (June 2) were predominatingly western; the species returned again from the north in early July (July 4). During this or the immediately succeeding southward migrations the semipalmated fell off in numbers, and furthermore, a great many birds thought to be western were indeterminate. Mr. E. P. Bicknell met the same condition which I found at Mastic further west at Long Beach. I remember a letter wherein he spoke of the semipalmated being replaced by the western, but I did not take just that view of it. For a year or two I have no real idea how common either species was. I saw numerous birds that seemed to be western, but mostly indeterminate, and took no specimens. Later the standard semipalmated reestablished its usually large numbers and this season (1925) probably for the first time the western was again common among them, about as in 1916, some of this latter form easily identifiable birds (in life).
Winter.—Arthur T. Wayne (1910) says:
The western sandpiper is the most abundant of all the waders that winter on this coast. It is not unusual to see thousands of these birds any day during the winter months. It can almost be considered a permanent resident, as it is only absent from May 20 until July 8. The adults arrive in worn breeding plumage and immediately begin to moult the feathers of the head and throat. By the first week in August they have acquired their autumn plumage.
Among the big flocks of small sandpipers that we saw all winter frequenting the extensive mud flats in the vicinity of Tampa Bay, Florida, I am satisfied that this species was well represented, if not the predominating species. I confess that I can not identify in life more than a very small percentage of these little "peep," and then only when seen under most favorable circumstances. One dislikes to shoot any number of the gentle little birds for identification. But what few we shot proved to be western sandpipers, and I am inclined to think that most of them were. Mr. Nichols writes to me:
In my limited experience mauri is commoner than pusillus on the west coast of Florida. In Wakulla County in March and September, 1919, most all the Ereunetes were western, only one or two among them definitely identified as pusillus; and in April, 1917, two or three western were identified with least sandpipers south of Sanibel Light.
Range.—North America, Central America, the West Indies, and northern South America.
Breeding range.—So far as known, the western sandpiper breeds only in Alaska. North to Cape Prince of Wales, Cape Blossom, Point Barrow, and Camden Bay. East to Camden Bay and St. Michael. South to St. Michael, Pastolik, and Hooper Bay. West to Hooper Bay, Nome, and Cape Prince of Wales. It has been taken in summer in northeastern Siberia at two points, East Cape on July 14, 1913, and Cape Serdze, on July 16, 1913.
Winter range.—The Pacific, Gulf, and South Atlantic coasts of the United States, the West Indies, Central America, and northern South America. North to Washington (Dungeness Spit, and Smith Island); Texas (Brownsville and Corpus Christi); Louisiana (Cameron and Vermilion Parishes); Alabama (Dauphin Island); and rarely, North Carolina (Pea Island). East to rarely, North Carolina (Pea Island and Fort Macon); South Carolina (Charleston); Georgia (Blackbeard Island); Florida (Amelia Island, and Fort Myers); Cuba (Guantanamo); and Trinidad. South to Trinidad; Venezuela (Margarita Island); probably northern Colombia (Sabanilla); probably Costa Rica (Barranca Puntarenas); Tehuantepec (Tehuantepec City); and Lower California (La Paz). West to Lower California (La Paz); California (San Diego County, Alameda, Oakland, and Berkeley); and Washington (Point Chehalis; Seattle, and Dungeness Spit). It also has been detected in winter on San Clemente Island, off the coast of southern California.
Spring migration.—The spring movement of birds that have wintered on the South Atlantic coast is imperfectly known, there being available no interior records that indicate the route by which they reach the breeding grounds. The species has been detected at Long Beach, New York, as early as April 25, and at Mastic, New York, on May 12, while late spring departures from South Carolina have been noted at Charleston on May 8, and from Mastic, New York, on June 2.
Early dates of arrival in the West are: Arizona, Fort Verde, April 11, and San Pedro River, April 17; Colorado, Denver, May 2, and Loveland, May 9; Nevada, Smoky Creek, May 6; Idaho, Meridian, May 6; British Columbia, Sumas, April 20, and Chilliwack, April 26; and Alaska, Kuiu Island, April 28, Craig, May 2, Patterson's Bay, May 7, Admiralty Island, May 8, Fort Kenai, May 12, Hooper Bay, May 14, and Prince of Wales Island, May 15.
Late dates of spring departure at western points are: Texas, Somerest, May 5, San Angelo, May 6, Seadrift, May 8, and Tom Green and Concho Counties, May 12; Kansas, Lawrence, May 26; South Dakota, Vermilion, May 24, and Forestburg, May 26; lower California, San Quentin Bay, May 10; California, Fresno, May 12, Santa Barbara, May 16, Los Angeles, May 19, Alameda, May 21, and Owens Lake, June 1; Oregon, Mercer, May 14; Washington, Ilwaco, May 18, Neah Bay, May 24, Clallam Bay, May 25, and Quillayute Needles, May 30.
Fall migration.—Early dates of arrival in the fall are: British Columbia, Courtenay, July 7, Nootka Sound, July 23, and Okanagan Landing, July 28; Washington, Cape Flattery, July 2, Destruction Island, July 3, and Granville, July 4; Oregon, Cow Creek Lake, July 4; California, Santa Barbara, July 3, Fresno, July 5, and Tulare Lake, July 7; Lower California, San Quentin, August 24; Mexico, San Mateo, August 7; Idaho, Meridian, July 23, and Big Lost River, July 25; Wyoming, Fort Bridger, July 13; Oklahoma, Old Greer County, July 19; Arizona, Tucson, August 16, and San Bernardino Ranch, August 24; Texas, Mobeetie, July 27, Beaumont, August 5, Rockport, August 12, Hereford, August 18, and Padre Island, August 21; Massachusetts, Monomoy Island, July 19, and Nahant, August 4; New York, Mastic, July 4, and Freeport, July 16; South Carolina, Charleston, July 8; and Florida, James Island, July 20.
Late dates of fall departure are: Alaska, Craig, September 24, and St. Lazaria Island, September 29; British Columbia, Chilliwack, September 11, and Comox, September 26; Montana, Great Falls, September 4; New Mexico, Albuquerque, October 5; Massachusetts, North Truro, September 2, and Harvard, September 8; New York, Chateaugay, September 13, Amityville, September 17, and Long Beach, October 12; New Jersey, Cape May County, September 14; District of Columbia, Anacostia River, September 25; and Virginia, Four-mile Run, September 11.
Casual records.—Casual occurrences of the western sandpiper must, of course, be based upon specimen evidence, as this species is easily confused with the semipalmated sandpiper. For this reason several records are considered doubtful, while in other regions it may be more numerous than is now known. One was taken August 21, 1907, at Beaver, Pennsylvania, while two were collected at Burlington, Iowa, on October 15, 1895, and one at Columbus, Ohio, on September 12, 1925.
Egg dates.—Alaska: 159 records, May 23 to July 7: 80 records, May 29 to June 15.
Along the forearm of Cape Cod, from the elbow at Chatham to the wrist near Provincetown, extend about 30 miles of nearly continuous ocean beaches, to which we can add 10 more if we include that long, narrow strip of beach and marsh called Monomoy. Facing the broad Atlantic and exposed to all its furious storms, these beaches are swept clean and pounded to a hard surface by the ceaseless waves. Even in calm weather the restless ocean swells and surges up and down over these sloping sands, and the winter storms may make or wash away a mile or so of beach in a single season. Here on the ocean side of the beach, the "back side of the beach," as it is called on the cape, is the favorite resort of the little sanderlings in fair weather or in foul. They are well named "beach birds," for here they are seldom found anywhere except on the ocean beaches, and I believe that the same is true of the Pacific coast. They are particularly active and happy during stormy weather, for then a bountiful supply of food is cast up by the heavy surf. But at all times the surf line attracts them, where they nimbly follow the receding waves to snatch their morsels of food or skillfully dodge the advancing line of foam as it rolls up the beach.
Spring.—To the ends of the earth and back again extend the migrations of the sanderling, the cosmopolitan globe trotter; few species, if any, equal it in world-wide wanderings. Nesting in the Arctic regions of both hemispheres, it migrates through all of the continents, and many of the islands, to the southernmost limits of south America and Africa, and even to Australia.
The spring migration starts in March, though the last migrants may hot leave their winter resorts until late in April; they have been noted in Chile from April 11 to 29, and even in May. The earliest migrants have been known to reach New England and Ohio before the end of March. The main flight passes through Massachusetts in May, a few birds lingering into June. In the interior and on the Pacific coast the dates are about the same. C. G. Harrold has taken it in Manitoba as early as April 29, but William Rowan (1926) says that the main flight comes along during the last week in May and the first few days of June, when it is abundant.
A. L. V. Manniche (1910) thus describes the arrival of the sanderling on its breeding grounds in northeastern Greenland:
The sanderling arrived at Stormkap singly or in couples respectively June 2, 1907, and May 28, 1908. In company with the other waders and large flocks of snow buntings, which arrived at the same time, the sanderlings would in the first days after their arrival resort to the few spots in the marshes and the surrounding stony plains, which were free from snow; here they led a miserable existence. Heavy snow storms and low temperature in connection with want of open water made the support of life difficult to the birds.
The temperature increased quickly and caused in a few days the places in which the birds could find food to extend very much. The areas free from snow grew larger and larger, and the ice along the beaches of small lakes and ponds with low water disappeared before the scorching sun; at the same time small ponds of melting snow were formed around in the field. Now the sanderlings would in couples retire from the party of other birds, and lead a quiet and tranquil life on the stony and dry plains. Now and then they would pay a visit to ponds of melting snow and beaches of fresh water lakes in order to bathe and seek food, and here they would join the party of other small waders as for instance Tringa alpina and Aegialitis hiaticula. According to my experience old birds would never resort to salt water shore.
Courtship.—The same observer tells us all we know about the courtship of the sanderling, as follows:
The pairing began toward the middle of June. The peculiar pairing flight of the male was to be seen and heard when the weather was fine, and especially in the evening. Uttering a snarling or slight neighing sound, he mounts to a height of some two meters from the surface of the ground on strongly vibrating wings, to continue at this height his flight for a short distance, most frequently in a straight line, but sometimes in small circles.
When excited he frequently sits on the top of a solitary large stone, his dorsal feathers blown out, his tail spread, and his wings half let down, producing his curious subdued pairing tones. He, however, soon returns to the female, which always keeps mute, and then he tries by slow, affected, almost creeping movements to induce her to pairing, until at last the act of pairing takes place; when effected, both birds rush away in rapid flight, to return soon after to the nesting place. I have also observed males in pairing flight without being able to discover any female in the neighborhood, and then, of course, without realizing the pairing as completing act. The male is in the pairing time very quarrelsome, and does not permit any strange bird to intrude on the selected domain. He seems to be most envious against birds of his own kin.
Nesting.—The sanderling breeds only in the far north, so far north that only very few Arctic explorers have found its nest. Strangely, however, the first recorded nest was found in a region where it rarely breeds and considerably south of its main breeding grounds. This was the nest found by Roderick MacFarlane (1908) on the barren grounds of northern Canada, of which he says:
On the 29th of June, 1864, we discovered a nest of this species in the barren grounds east of Fort Anderson. It contained four eggs, which we afterwards learnt were the first and only authenticated examples at that time known to American naturalists. The nest was composed of withered grasses and leaves placed in a small cavity or depression in the ground. The contents of the eggs were quite fresh, and they measured 1.44 inches by 0.95 to 0.99 in breadth, and their ground color was a brownish olive marked with faint spots and blotches of bister. These markings were very generally diffused, but were a little more numerous about the larger ends. They were of an oblong pyriform shape. The parent bird was snared on the nest. It is a very rare bird in the Anderson River country, and we failed to find another nest thereof.
The main breeding grounds of the sanderling are probably on the more northern Arctic islands, but not enough nests have ever been found anywhere to produce the hosts of birds which we see on migrations. Col. H. W. Feilden (1877) gives the following description of his discovery of the nest of this species:
I first observed this species in Grinnell Land on the 5th of June, 1876, flying in company with knots and turnstones; at this date it was feeding, like the other waders, on the buds of Saxifraga oppositifolia. This bird was by no means abundant along the coast of Grinnell Land, but I observed several pairs in the aggregate, and found a nest of this species containing two eggs in latitude 82° 33' N. on June 24, 1876. This nest, from which I killed the male bird, was placed on a gravel ridge, at an altitude of several hundred feet above the sea, and the eggs were deposited in a slight depression in the center of a recumbent plant of Arctic willow, the lining of the nest consisting of a few withered leaves and some of the last year's catkins. August 8, 1876, along the shores of Robeson Channel, I saw several parties of young ones, three to four in number, following their parents, and led by the old birds, searching most diligently for insects. At this date they were in a very interesting stage of plumage, being just able to fly, but retaining some of the down on their feathers.
The best account we have of the home life of the sanderling is given to us by Mr. Manniche (1910), who found this species to be one of the commonest breeding birds in northeastern Greenland. He writes:
In the extensive moor and marsh stretches west of Stormkap are many smaller stony and clayey parts lying scattered like a sort of islands. As these "stone isles" are most restricted in size, I could without special difficulty realize the existence of the birds here, and I found several nestling sanderlings on such places. The problem was decidedly more difficult to me when the birds had their homes on the extensive table-lands farther inland; here it will depend on luck to meet with a couple of nestling sanderlings.
The laying began about June 20. The first nest found containing eggs dates from June 28; these had, however, already been brooded for some days. The clutch of eggs latest found dates from July 15; the eggs in this nest were very much incubated. The sanderling places its nest on the before mentioned dry clay-mixed stony plains sparsely covered with Salix arctica, Dryas octopetala, Saxifraga oppositifolia, and a few other scattered low growths. I only found the nest on places of this type, never on moors or plains entirely uncovered. The larger or smaller extent, the higher or lower position over the level of the sea and the distance from nearest shore of such locality is, according to my experience, of no consequence. It only seems, as if the sanderling prefers to nest on such places, which are situated not very far from fresh water—a lake or a pond—to the shores of which the young ones are often directed. Some nests found prove, however, that the birds do not insist upon this.
The situation of the nest is also extremely constant. At the edge—or rarer farther in—of a tuft of Dryas, the bird will form a cup-shaped not very deep nest hollow, the bottom of which is sparsely lined with withered leaves of Salix arctica or other plants growing in the neighbourhood. In size, and partly in shape the sanderling's nest resembles that of Tringa alpina. The striking likeness in color to the surroundings and the monotonous character of the landscape makes it extremely difficult to find the nest unless the bird itself shows the way to it. The number of eggs in a clutch is always four. I found eleven nests with eggs and some fifty hatches of downy young ones but none of these differed from the normal number.
By excellent tactics the breeding female understands to keep secret the hiding place of the nest. She will generally leave the nest so early and secretly, that even the most experienced and attentive eye does not perceive it. She rushes rapidly from the nest with her head pressed down against her back executing some peculiar creeping movements quite mute, and hidden between stones and plants; following natural hollows in the ground she will first appear in a distance of at least 100 meters from the nest. By means of short, snarling, and faint cries and now and then by flying up, she will then try to turn one's attention to herself. She will often settle for some moments on small stones, clods of earth, and similar places, from which she again will rush away with her dorsal feathers erected and her wings hanging down and always in a direction opposite to that in which her nest is situated.
H. E. Dresser (1904) gives a translation of notes on this species made by Dr. H. Walter in the Taimyr Peninsula, from which I quote as follows:
The nests, found late in June and early in July, contained four eggs each in three cases and three eggs in one case. The nest was placed, unlike that of the other waders, which affected the grass-covered portions of the tundra, between bare clay lumps on moss, and consisted of a shallow depression lined with a few dry straws and a white tangle. In two cases the male, and in two the female, was incubating. On the 16/29 July, when the young in down were taken, the male showed anxiety, but the female was not seen. During the breeding season some of these birds wandered about in small flocks. This species remained until the end of August.
Eggs.—The sanderling lays four eggs, sometimes only three. The eggs are very rare in collections and few are available for study, but they have been well described and fully illustrated. The eggs taken by Doctor Walter are described by Mr. Dresser (1904) as follows:
Blunt pyriform, fine grained, with a faint gloss. Ground color pale yellowish white, with a very pale greenish tinge and somewhat marked with small yellowish brown and dark brown spots; a few indistinct light violet gray markings; at the larger end a few blackish dots and streaks.
In the colored illustrations of 10 eggs before me, the shapes vary from ovate pyriform, the prevailing shape, to subpyriform. The prevailing ground colors are greenish olive, "ecru-olive," "lime green," or "grape green"; a few eggs are more buffy, "cream buff" to "deep olive buff." The markings are small, and often inconspicuous, spots, scattered quite evenly over the entire surface, but sometimes more thickly about the larger end. These are in dull shades of brown, "buffy brown," "snuff brown," or "sepia." They are not handsome or showy eggs. The measurements of 41 eggs, furnished by Rev. F. C. R. Jourdain, average 35.7 by 24.7 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 38.2 by 24.7, 34.1 by 26.1, 33.1 by 24.4 and 35.3 by 23.5 millimeters.
Young.—Authorities seem to differ as to whether both sexes incubate or not. Both Feilden and Walter secured incubating males, but Manniche (1910) says:
Till the laying is finished both birds will faithfully accompany each other, but as soon as the brooding begins, the males will join in smaller flocks and wander around on the table lands and at the beaches of the fresh waters, often in company with Tringa canutus and Strepsilas interpres. They usually left the country some days before the middle of July. I secured several males for examination but never found the least sign of a breeding spot.
He gives the period of incubation as 23 to 24 days and says of the young:
The bursting of the egg shells will generally begin already some three days before the emergence of the young. The mother bird will immediately carefully carry the shells away from the nest in order not to attract the attention of ravens and skuas. Between the emergence of the young will elapse not more than a few hours; as soon as the latest born young one feels sufficiently strong; that is, when the down is dry, all the nestlings will leave the nest at the same time. If the old female considers the nearest surroundings of the nest to be unsafe or too difficult in food for the brood, she will immediately lead the young away. Thus I have met with newly hatched young ones, hardly one hour after their departure from the nest in a distance of 500 to 600 meters from this. In the cases concerned the disturbance by my frequent visits to the nests during the breeding may have caused the early departure.
In the following 12 to 14 days the chicks are guarded by their careful and extremely vigilant mother, who leads them over stony plains, by overflows of melted snow and fresh-water beaches; they are eagerly occupied in seeking food, which at this period exclusively consists of small insects and larvae and pupae of these. I have often observed that the chicks take shelter under the wings of their mother from the cold nights and the heavy showers. The chicks' power of resistance against cold and severe weather is relatively small.
When the sanderling wants to protect her young ones against hostile attacks she executes still more surprising systematic tactics than she does when brooding. Already when at a distance of some 200 to 300 meters from the young ones the old female would rush toward me and by all kinds of flapping and creeping movements in an opposite direction try to lead me astray; all the while she would squeak like a young one, and now growl angrily, striving to draw my attention toward herself only. Now and then she would rise very high in the air in a direct rapid flight, to disappear behind a rock on the opposite beach of a lake, etc. From quite another direction she soon appeared again just before my feet.
If I finally retired still farther away from the young ones and for a while kept myself hidden in the field, she would fly slowly, sometimes quite low, over the earth to the spot where the young still were lying motionless and mute, with their bodies pressed flat against the earth and their neck and head stretched out. When at last the female considers the danger to be over, she, flying or running close to the chicks, produces a short chirping song, at the tones of which all four young ones suddenly get up and begin to run about. Only in this case the sanderling produces its highly peculiar "sanderling song," which is very similar to the song of Sylvia curruca. As long as the young kept lying quiet on the ground in the before-mentioned attitude they were extremely difficult to find, if I had not from my ambush by aid of my field glass exactly marked down the spot where they last appeared. The young ones do not seek any real cover, as in hollows in the ground, under plants, behind stones, or similar natural hiding places. When I had found a single young one, which while I kept it in my hands began to chirp, it generally happened that the three other young, which had till then kept quiet, suddenly rose and, with the wings raised, uttered a quite fine mouse-like squeaking and hastily rushed away, while the old female, as if paralyzed, lay down before my feet, still squeaking exactly like the chicks.
Within 12 to 14 days the young ones are full grown and able to fly. Strange to say, the brood of the sanderling seems to suffer very little from hostile persecution, a fact which may be due to the accomplished vigilance and prudent behaviour of the old female and the young as well as the extremely suitably coloured clothing of these. I wonder that these defenceless small beings can avoid the Polar fox, which in this season more frequently than usual visits the domain of the waders, and which, as well known, has an excellent sense of smell.
Plumages.—The nestling sanderling is thus described in Witherby's Handbook (1920):
Forehead buff with a median black line from base of upper mandible to crown; nape buff, down with dusky bases; rest of upper parts variegated light buff, warm buff and black and more or less spangled white; lores buff, two black lines across lores toward eye; under parts white, cheeks, chin and throat suffused light buff.
Mr. Manniche (1910) gives a colored plate showing four ages of downy young sanderlings, which the above description fits. A nestling 7 days old shows the remiges about one-third grown, while the body is still all downy. Another nearly fully grown only 11 days old is still downy on the head, neck, rump, and crissum, but is nearly fully feathered on the mantle and wings, partly feathered on the under parts and the wings extend beyond the stump of a tail; it must be close to the flight stage. Such is the rapid development of these little Arctic birds that Mr. Manniche (1910) says that they can fly when 14 days old.
In fresh juvenal plumage in the Arctic the feathers of the crown, mantle, wing coverts, scapulars, and tertials are blackish brown, broadly tipped, and all except those of the crown are also notched, with buff; the sides of the head, neck, and breast are washed with buff; before these birds reach us on migration these buff tints have mostly faded out to creamy yellow or white; the feathers of the lower back, rump, and upper tail coverts are ashy brown or grayish buff, each with a dusky shaft streak and narrowly tipped with dusky; as these feathers are not molted during the first winter they produce a peculiar rump pattern by which young birds can be easily recognized. Young birds are in juvenal plumage when they arrive here, with conspicuous black and white backs. But the postjuvenal molt begins in September and is generally completed before November; this molt involves the body plumage, except the rump, and some of the wing coverts and tertials. The first winter plumage is like that of the adult, plain gray above and white below, except for the retained juvenal feathers as indicated above.
A partial, or perhaps nearly complete, prenuptial molt takes place in young birds between March and May, involving the body plumage, sometimes the tail and most of the scapulars and wing coverts. In this first nuptial plumage young birds are much like adults, but can be recognized by some retained wing coverts and tertials; the latter are shorter than in adults, reaching not quite to the tip of the fourth primary in the folded wing; in the adult wing the tertials reach nearly to the tip of the third primary. At the next molt, the first postnuptial, the adult winter plumage is assumed.
Adults have a complete postnuptial molt from July to October or later. The body plumage is molted first, mainly in August and September, and the wings later, mainly in October; specimens have been seen with primaries in molt in February and March, but these are probably abnormal. The prenuptial molt of adults is incomplete, involving nearly all of the body plumage, but not all of the feathers of the back, scapulars, tertials, or wing coverts. The fresh nuptial plumage in early May is veiled with broad grayish white tips, which soon wear away. There is great individual variation in the amount of red assumed and in the molting date.
Food.—The sanderling obtains most of its food by probing in the wet sand of the seashore or by picking up what is washed up and left by the receding waves. The former method is well described by Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1920) as follows:
On the hard wet sand of the beaches one may see in places the characteristic probings of the sanderling without a trace of their foot marks, and these may be the cause of considerable mystery to the uninitiated. While the semipalmated sandpiper runs about with his head down dabbing irregularly here and there, the sanderling vigorously probes the sand in a series of holes a quarter of an inch to an inch apart in straight or curving lines a foot to 2 feet long. Sometimes the probings are so near together that the line is almost a continuous one like the furrow of a miniature plough. The sand is thrown up in advance so that one can tell in which direction the bird is going. A close inspection of the probings often reveals their double character, showing that the bill was introduced partly open. The probings are for the minute sand fleas and other crustaceans in the sand, their principal food. I have seen sanderlings running about nimbly on the beach, catching the sand fleas which were hopping on the surface. I have also seen them catching flies. I have a record of one I shot in 1884, whose stomach was stuffed with small specimens of the common mussel, Mytilus edulis.
The food consists mainly of sand fleas, shrimps, and other small crustaceans, small mollusks, marine worms, flies, fly larvae, and other insects, and sometimes a few seeds. Early in the season in the Arctic regions when animal life of all kinds is scarce the sanderling is said to subsist on the buds of saxifrage and other plants, as well as bits of moss and algae.
Behavior.—I have always loved to walk by the seashore alone with Nature, and especially to tramp for miles over the hard sands of our ocean beaches, where the heaving bosom of the restless sea sends its flood of foaming breakers rolling up the steep slopes, cut into hills and valleys by the action of the waves. From the crest of the beach above or from the lonely sand dunes beyond comes the mellow whistle of the plover, disturbed in his reveries; out over the blue waters a few terns are flitting about or screaming in anxiety for their, now well grown, young perched on the beach. Flocks of small shore birds hurry past well out over the breakers, flashing light or dark, as they wheel and turn; and high overhead the big gray gulls are circling. But right at our feet is one of the characteristic features of the ocean beach, a little flock of feeding sanderlings, confiding little fellows, apparently unmindful of our presence. They run along ahead of us as fast as we can walk, their little black legs fairly twinkling with rapid motion. They are intent only on picking up their little bits of food and most skillfully avoid the incoming wave by running up the beach just ahead of it; occasionally a wave overtakes one when it flutters above it; then as the wave recedes they run rapidly down with it, quickly picking up what food they find. If we force them to fly, which they seem reluctant to do, they circle out over the waves and settle on the beach again a short distance ahead of us; by repeating this maneuver again and again they lead us on and on up the beach, until, tired of being disturbed, they finally make a wide circle out over the water around us and alight on the beach far behind us. Their flight is swift, direct, and generally low over the water, with less of the twistings and turnings so common among shore birds. They usually flock by themselves, but are often associated in small numbers with knots, small plovers, or other beach-loving species. When satiated with food or tired of strenuous activity, they retire to the crest of the beach, or the broad sloping sand plains beyond it, to rest and doze or preen their plumage. Here they stand or squat on the sand, often in immense flocks, all facing the wind. Their colors match their surroundings so well that they are not conspicuous and I have often been surprised to see them rise. These large flocks are generally wary and not easily approached. But small parties or single birds feeding along the surf line are very tame and if we sit quietly on the beach, they will often run up quite close to us. Like many other shore birds, they are fond of standing on one leg or even hopping about on it for a long time, as if one leg were missing; often a number of birds will be seen all doing this at the same time, as if playing a sort of game; but if we watch them long enough, the other leg will come down, for they are not cripples.
Voice.—J. T. Nichols writes to me of the limited vocabulary of this bird, as follows:
The note of the sanderling is a soft ket, ket, ket, uttered singly or in series somewhat querulous in tone. It is at times used in taking wing, also with variations in the conversational twittering of a feeding flock. The sanderling is a rather silent bird at all times and seems to have a comparatively limited vocabulary.
Field Marks.—The sanderling is well named "whitey" or "whiting," for the large amount of white in its plumage, particularly in late summer, fall, and winter, is one of its best field marks. In winter it appears to be nearly all white while on the ground, against which the stiff black legs, the rather heavy black bill and a dark area at the bend of the wing stand out in sharp contrast. In flight the broad white stripe in the wing, contrasted with black, is diagnostic; and the tail appears white, or nearly so, with a dark center. Young birds in the fall can be recognized by the mottled black and white back. Its foot prints in the sand are recognizable, as well as the probings made by its bill.
Fall.—Mr. Manniche (1910) observed the flocking of the young sanderlings in Greenland, during August, prior to their departure about the end of that month; he writes:
The flocks of sanderlings every day increase in size till they culminate about August 20th. August 21st, 1906, I met on the shore at Hvalrosodden with a flock numbering at least 300 sanderlings. I walked there toward evening and, as the weather was unusualy fine, the birds were very lively; the imposingly large flock of birds executed evolutions in the air with incredible dexterity, now scattered and then in a compact column, now very high in the air and then close to the glassy level of the sea.
The first adults reach Massachusetts in July and are common or abundant during the latter part of that month and through August. The earlier arrivals are in worn spring plumage, but all stages of body molt are seen during their stay with us. The young birds come along in the latter part of August and are most abundant in September and October, after the adults have gone. The earlier migrants are generally in small flocks or little groups, but the late storms often bring along immense flocks, which settle on the beaches in dense masses or sweep along between the crests of the waves in great clouds.
The sanderling is a common migrant, sometimes abundant, throughout the interior east of the Rocky Mountains, coming along at about the same dates as on the Atlantic coast. Prof. William Rowan tells me of a bird he shot in Alberta on November 8, 1902, that was feeding with a Baird sandpiper "on the ice of a completely frozen lake." It is a common migrant on the Pacific coast at about the same dates as elsewhere. D. E. Brown (notes) records it at Grays Harbor, Washington, as late as December 20, 1917.
Game.—In the old days, before the shooting of small shore birds was prohibited by law, sanderlings ranked as game birds among the beach gunners. They were popular because they were so abundant and so tame that they could be shot in large numbers, especially when flying in large flocks. They are exceedingly fat in the fall and are delicious to eat. A favorite method of shooting them was to dig a hole in the sand of the beach, as near the water as practicable, in which the gunner could hide and shoot into the flocks as they flew by. Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1905) tells of a man who, in 1872, "saw two baskets, each holding half a bushel and rounded full of these birds," shot by one man between tides.
Winter.—The winter home of the sanderling is extensive. A few birds sometimes spend the winter as far north as Massachusetts. They are common on the Atlantic and Gulf coasts from North Carolina southward, as well as on the Pacific coast up to central California at least. From these northern points the winter range extends southward to central Argentina and Chile, and even farther south. On the west coast of Florida, where I spent the winter of 1924-25, sanderlings were common all winter, associating with red-backed sandpipers and other small waders on the extensive sand flats, or with knots and piping plovers on the beaches. It was interesting to note how tame they were on the protected bathing beaches and how wild they were elsewhere.
Range.—Cosmopolitan; breeding in Arctic or subarctic regions and wintering mainly south of 40 degrees north latitude.
Breeding range.—In North America the breeding range of the sanderling extends north to Alaska (Point Barrow); northern Franklin (Price of Wales Strait, Bay of Mercy, and probably Winter Harbor); northern Grant Land (Floeberg Beach); Grinnell Land; northern Greenland (Thank God Harbor, Stormkap, and Shannon Island); and perhaps Iceland (Mickla Island). East to Iceland (Mickla Island); southern Greenland (Glacier Valley and Godthaab); and eastern Franklin (Igloolik and Winter Island). South to Franklin (Winter Island); Keewatin (Cape Fullerton); Mackenzie (Bernard Harbor and Franklin Bay); and Alaska (probably Barter Island and Point Barrow). West to Alaska (Point Barrow).
Winter range.—In the Western Hemisphere the sanderling ranges in winter north to: Washington (Dungeness Spit and Smith Island); southeastern California (Salton Sea); Texas (Corpus Christi, Aransas River, Refugio County, and Galveston); Louisiana (State Game Preserve); western Florida (probably Pensacola and Bagdad); and rarely Massachusetts (Plymouth County). East to rarely Massachusetts (Harvard, Dennis, Muskeget Island, and Nantucket); rarely New York (Long Beach); rarely New Jersey (Long Beach and Cape May); Virginia (Virginia Beach and Cobb Island); North Carolina (Pea Island, Cape Hatteras, and Fort Macon); Bermuda; South Carolina (Mount Pleasant and Frogmore); Georgia (Savannah and Darien); Florida (Amelia Island, Seabreeze, Mosquito Inlet, and Key West); Bahama Islands (Andros, Watling, and Fortune Islands); Jamaica; Lesser Antilles (probably Barbados); Brazil (Cajetuba Island and Iguape); and Argentina (Misiones, San Vicente, and Tombo Point). South to Argentina (Tombo Point); and Chile (Coquimbo Bay). West to Chile (Coquimbo Bay); Peru (mouth of the Tambo River and Chorillos); Ecuador (Santa Elena); Galapagos Islands (Bindloe and Albemarle Islands); probably Colombia (Carthagena). Vera Cruz (Barra de Santecomapan); Lower California (San Jose del Cabo, Santa Margarita Island, San Cristobal Bay, and Cedros Island); California (San Diego, San Clemente Island, Santa Barbara, San Francisco, Bolinas, and Point Reyes); Oregon (Netarts Bay); and Washington (Grays Harbor and Dungeness Spit).
Spring migration.—Early dates of arrival in the spring are: Maine, Augusta, April 11, and Saco, May 5; Franklin, Bay of Mercy, June 3, Prince of Wales Strait, June 7, Walker Bay, June 9, Winter Island, June 10, and Igloolik, June 16; Greenland, coast at about 72 degrees latitude, May 29, Cape Union, June 5; Kentucky, Bowling Green, May 1; Missouri, Kansas City, April 30; Illinois, Chicago, May 10; Ohio, Oberlin, April 6, Lakeside, April 17, and Columbus, May 10; Michigan, Detroit, May 16; Ontario, London, May 13, and Toronto, May 20; Minnesota, Goodhue, April 20; eastern Nebraska, Alliance, April 6; South Dakota, Vermilion, April 29; North Dakota, Harrisburg, May 20; Manitoba, Oak Lake, May 5; Saskatchewan, Orestwynd, May 23; Mackenzie, Fort Simpson May 29; Colorado, Loveland, May 12, and near Denver, May 16; Wyoming, Lake Como, May 5, and Laramie, May 15; Alberta, Edmonton, April 29, and Fort Chipewyan, June 7; and Alaska, mouth of the Yukon River, May 10.
Late dates of spring departure are: Georgia, Cumberland, April 14; South Carolina, Sea Islands, April 23; North Carolina, Fort Macon, May 17, and Cape Hatteras, May 20; Virginia, Smiths Island, May 22, and Cobb Island, June 6; New Jersey, Cape May, June 13; New York, New York City, May 30, Geneva, June 3, and Sing Sing, June 5; Connecticut, Fairfield, May 31; Massachusetts, Harvard, June 4, Dennis, June 7, and Monomoy Island, June 27; Maine, Scarboro, May 30; Quebec, Quebec City, May 27, and Montreal, June 1; Kentucky, Bowling Green, May 22; Illinois, Waukegan, May 24, and Chicago, May 26; Ohio, Painesville, May 28, and Youngstown, June 2; Michigan, Detroit, May 28; Ontario, Point Pelee, June 1, Toronto, June 2, and Brighton, June 19; Iowa, Emmetsburg, May 25; Wisconsin, Madison, May 23; Minnesota, Walker, June 10; Texas, Point Isabel, May 3, and Corpus Christi, May 22; eastern Nebraska, Lincoln, May 21; South Dakota, Yankton, June 1; Manitoba, Lake Winnipeg, June 8, Shoal Lake, June 8, and Lake Manitoba, June 12; Saskatchewan, Hay Lake, June 9, and Quill Lake, June 10; Colorado, Denver, May 31; California, Santa Barbara, May 26; San Nicholas Island, May 30, Hyperion, May 31, and Redondo, June 4; and Washington, Quillayute Needles, May 30.
Fall migration.—Early dates of arrival in the fall are: British Columbia, Okanagan Landing, July 25, and Comox, August 15; Washington, Dungeness Spit, August 18, Clallam Bay, August 22, and Tacoma, August 23; California, Santa Barbara, July 29; Alberta, Strathmore, July 31; Montana, Flathead Lake, August 29; Saskatchewan, Big Stick Lake, July 19; Manitoba, Victoria Beach, July 11, Shoal Lake, August 8, and Oak Lake, August 17; South Dakota, Pine Ridge Reservation, July 12; eastern Nebraska, Lincoln, August 22; Texas, Tivoli, August 3, Brownsville, August 15, and Padre Island, August 21; Ontario, Toronto, July 16, and Ottawa, August 14; Michigan, Charity Island, July 19; Ohio, Lakeside, July 11, Cedar Point, July 21, and Painesville, July 25; Indiana, Millers, August 1; Illinois, Chicago, July 24; Massachusetts, Monomoy Island, July 1, Marthas Vineyard, July 8, and Dennis, July 12; New York, Brooklyn, July 6, Montauk Point, July 20, and Rochester, July 23; New Jersey, Cape May, July 20; Pennsylvania, Erie, July 27; Virginia, Chincoteague, August 1; North Carolina, Church's Island, July 29; South Carolina, Mount Pleasant, July 14; Florida, Bradentown, July 12, Pensacola, July 19, Fernandina, July 21, and Daytona Beach, July 28; Jamaica, Spanishtown, August 20; and Lesser Antilles, St. Croix, September 13.
Late dates of fall departure are: Alaska, Demarcation Point, August 30; Mackenzie, Fort Franklin, September 16; Alberta, Beaverhill Lake, November 8; Colorado, Loveland, September 30, and Pueblo, October 1; Manitoba, Margaret, October 20, and Lake Manitoba, November 7; North Dakota, Grafton, September 14; Nebraska, Lincoln, October 4; Wisconsin, Lake Mills, October 3; Iowa, Burlington, October 15, and National, October 29; Ontario, Kingston, October 15, Point Pelee, October 16, and Ottawa, October 22; Michigan, Ann Arbor, October 26, Portage Lake, November 5, and Forestville, November 24; Ohio, Cedar Point, October 21, Lakeside, October 29, and Columbus, November 7; Illinois, LaGrange, October 29, and Chicago, November 3; Franklin, Bay of Mercy, August 30; Prince Edward Island, North River, October 30; Quebec, Quebec City, November 12; and Maine, Portland, November 25.
Casual records.—In spite of its wide distribution the sanderling is not frequently detected outside of its normal range. Although but a short distance from the coast, there are only five records for the vicinity of Washington, D. C. (September, 1874, October 24, 1885, September 22, 1894, September 26-30, 1898, and September 27, 1898). It has been taken once in Kansas (Lawrence, October 7, 1874). There also is a record for the Hawaiian Islands (Hauai in October, 1900) and one in Haiti (Gaspar Hernandez, March 4, 1916).
Egg dates.—Greenland: six records, June 29 to July 7. Grinnell Land: one record, June 24. Arctic Canada: two records, June 18 and 29.
Next to the long-billed curlew and the oyster catchers, this is the largest of our shore birds. For that reason and for other reasons it is rapidly disappearing, and before many years it may join the ranks of those that are gone but not forgotten. Although shy at times, it is often foolishly tame and is then easily slaughtered. It is large enough to appeal to the sportsman as legitimate game and it makes a plump and toothsome morsel for the table. But, worst of all, its breeding grounds on the prairies and meadows of the central plains are becoming more and more restricted by the encroachments of agriculture; the wide-open solitudes will soon be only memories of the past.
In Audubon's (1840) time this was an abundant species and much more widely distributed than it is to-day. He writes:
On the 31st of May, 1832, I saw an immense number of these birds on an extensive mud bar bordering one of the Keys of Florida, about 6 miles south of Cape Sable. When I landed with my party the whole, amounting to some
thousands, collected in the manner mentioned above. Four or five guns were fired at once, and the slaughter was such that I was quite satisfied with the number obtained, both for specimens and for food. For this reason we refrained from firing at them again, although the temptation was at times great, as they flew over and wheeled round us for awhile, until at length they alighted at some distance and began to feed.
The marbled godwit is a rare bird in Florida to-day; I saw only one during the five months of my last winter on the west coast. It was formerly abundant as a migrant on the Atlantic coast from New England southward, where now it is merely a straggler. It is still fairly common on the Pacific coast, where probably most of the birds now go. Even in Minnesota, close to its present breeding grounds, it has decreased enormously. Dr. Thomas S. Roberts (1919) writes:
When the writer, in company with Franklin Benner, went to Grant and Traverse Counties in June, 1879, to study the wild life of that region, the great marbled godwit was so abundant, so constant and insistent in its attentions to the traveler on the prairie, and so noisy that it became at times an actual nuisance. They were continually hovering about the team, perfectly fearless and nearly deafening us with their loud, harsh cries—"go-wit, go-wit." On getting out of the wagon to search for their nests, the birds became fairly frantic until we were fain to stop our ears to shut out the din. Now and then the birds would all disappear and peace would ensue for a brief period, but they had only retired to muster their forces anew, for shortly a great company would bear down upon us, flying low over the prairie, and spread out in wide array, all the birds silent, until, when almost upon us, they swerved suddenly upward over our heads and broke out again in a wild, discordant clamor. Once I counted 50 birds in one of these charging companies. This, to us, novel experience, went on from day to day in various places and has left a vivid impression that can never be effaced. Happenings of this sort have long since become things of the past in Minnesota. The godwits gradually disappeared before conditions associated with the advance of man into their domain until now it is doubtful that more than an occasional pair remains to nest in some remote part of the State.
The godwits have always been favorites with me and in my early days I had always longed to see them. The opportunity came at last when I visited North Dakota in 1901. We had been collecting for several days in some extensive sloughs bordering a large lake in Steele County, which we found exceedingly rich in bird life, when on June 12 I first made the acquaintance of this magnificent wader. The beautiful Wilson's phalaropes were flitting about among the tussocks, and it was while hunting for their nests that we noticed, among the numerous noisy killdeers and western willets flying over us, a strange hoarse note, strikingly different from either, as a large brown bird flew past, which we recognized as a godwit. All doubts were soon dispelled by collecting my first specimen of a species I had often longed to see, and I could not help pausing to examine and admire the beautiful markings of its richly colored wings. We saw only four of these birds that day, but on the following day they became more abundant. There were about 20 of them flying about over the meadows, showing considerable concern at our presence, constantly uttering their peculiar cries, and showing so little regard for their own safety that we were led to infer that they were breeding or intending to breed in that vicinity. We spent some time looking for their nests, but as we knew practically nothing about their nesting habits at that time, we were not successful in locating any nests.
Spring.—I can not find that the marbled godwit was ever common on the Atlantic coast north of Florida in the spring. It still migrates northward along the Pacific coast, mainly in April; D. E. Brown has seen it at Gray's Harbor, Washington, as early as April 9. The main migration route seems to be up the Mississippi Valley, mainly in April; it has been recorded in southern Saskatchewan as early as April 16.
Nesting.—In southwestern Saskatchewan, in 1905 and 1906, I became better acquainted with the marbled godwit on its breeding grounds. Along the lower courses of the streams, near the lakes, but sometimes extending for a mile or more back from the lake, are usually found broad, flat, alluvial plains, low enough to be flooded during periods of high water. These plains are more or less moist at all times, are exceedingly level, and are covered with short, thick grass only a few inches high. Such spots are the chosen breeding grounds of the marbled godwit, and, so far as our experience goes, the nests of this species are invariably placed on these grassy plains or meadows.
The godwit makes no attempt at concealment, the eggs being deposited in plain sight in a slight hollow in the short grass. We found, in all, four nests of this species with eggs, had two sets of eggs brought to us by ranchmen, and found two broods of young. The first nest was discovered on May 29, 1905. We had been hunting the shores of a large alkaline lake, where a colony of avocets were breeding on the mud flats near the outlet of a deep, sluggish stream, and it was while following along the banks of this stream, as it wound its devious course down through a series of broad, flat meadows, that I flushed a godwit out of the short grass only a few yards from the stream and about 100 yards from the lake. On investigation I found that she had flown from her nest, merely a slight hollow in the grass lined with dry grass, which had, apparently, been simply trodden down where it grew, without the addition of any new material brought in by the birds. Only two eggs had been laid, so we marked the spot for future reference and retired. On June 5 this nest was photographed, and the four eggs which it then contained were collected.
While driving across a low, wet meadow, toward a reedy lake, on June 8, 1905, and when about 200 yards from the lake, we were surprised to see a marbled godwit flutter out from directly under the horse, which was trotting along at a leisurely pace. We stopped as soon as possible and found that we had driven directly over its nest, which barely escaped destruction, for it lay between the wheel ruts and the horse's footprints, one of which was within a few inches of it. The nest was in every way similar to the first one, the bird having beaten down the short grass to form a slight hollow in which the four handsome eggs had been laid in plain sight.
On June 9, 1906, we visited the locality where the first nest was found, and I enjoyed a most interesting experience with an unusually tame individual of this normally shy species. While walking across the flat meadow near the creek, I happened to see a marbled godwit crouching on her nest beside a pile of horse droppings. She was conspicuous enough in spite of her protective coloration, for the nest was entirely devoid of concealment in the short grass. Though we stood within 10 feet of her, she showed no signs of flying away, which suggested the possibility of photographing her. My camera was half a mile away in our wagon, but I soon returned with it and began operations at a distance of 15 feet, setting up the camera on the tripod and focussing carefully. I moved up cautiously to within 10 feet and took another picture, repeating the performance again within 5 feet. She still sat like a rock, and I made bold to move still closer, spreading the legs of the tripod on either side of her and placing the camera within 3 feet of her; I hardly dared to breathe, moving very slowly as I used the focussing cloth, and changed my plate holders most cautiously; but she never offered to move and showed not the slightest signs of fear, while I exposed all the plates I had with me, photographing her from both sides and placing the lens within 2 feet of her. She sat there patiently, panting in the hot sun, apparently distressed by the heat, perhaps partially dazed by it, and much annoyed by the ants which were constantly crawling into her eyes and half open bill, causing her to wink or shake her head occasionally. I reached down carefully and stroked her on the back, but still she did not stir, and I was finally obliged to lift her off the nest in order to photograph the eggs.
Two nests found by Gerard A. Abbott (1919) in Benson County, North Dakota, were evidently better concealed than the nests we found. He writes:
I was certainly surprised to discover my first godwit's nest with the parent crouching beneath a little screen of woven grass blades on four heavily blotched eggs. Her general contour and the situation and design of the nest was suggestive of many king rails whose nests I have found, after noticing how the grass blades were woven together canopy like to shield the bird and her treasures. About a mile from this nest and screened on one side by willow sprouts sat another tame godwit. This time the grassy hollow held five boldly marked eggs. Incubation was one-half completed and the date was June 8. These five eggs bear a general resemblance to each other and I believe they are all the product of the same bird.
Eggs.—The marbled godwit lays four eggs regularly, very rarely three and still more rarely five. The eggs are ovate or ovate pyriform in shape, with a slight gloss. The ground colors usually run from "pale olive buff" to "deep olive buff," in the greener types from "dark olive buff" to "ecru olive," and in the brownest types to "Isabella color." They are more or less sparingly and irregularly marked with small rounded spots, and with irregular, rarely elongated blotches; these are often thicker at the larger end, but seldom confluent. The markings are usually much more conspicuous than in other godwit's eggs, but they are in dull browns, such as "Saccardo's umber," "warm sepia," and "bister." The underlying spots and blotches range in color from "pallid brownish drab" to "deep brownish drab." Some of the greenish types are only faintly spotted with "light brownish olive." One very handsome egg has a "pale olive buff" ground color, conspicuously splashed and blotched with "pale Quaker drab," overlaid with a few small blotches and scrawls of "Saccardo's umber." The measurements of 64 eggs average 57 by 39.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 61 by 40.5, 59.5 by 42.5, 51 by 38.5, and 53.7 by 37.7 millimeters.
Young.—I have no data on the period of incubation and do not know whether both sexes incubate or not. The only incubating bird I collected was a female. Though we looked diligently for the young we did not succeed in finding any until June 27, 1906. We were driving across some extensive wet meadows, ideal breeding grounds for marbled godwits, when we saw a godwit, about a hundred yards ahead of us, leading two of its young across a shallow grassy pool; we drove toward them as fast as we could, but as we drew near the old bird took wing and the young separated, moving off into the grass in opposite directions. They had evidently been well schooled in the art of hiding and were well fitted by their protective coloring to escape notice, for, though we secured one of them readily enough while it was still running, the other disappeared entirely right before our eyes and within 10 yards of us. Its disappearance seemed almost miraculous, for there was practically nothing there to conceal it, as the grass was quite short, and there were no shrubs or herbaceous plants of any kind in the vicinity. We searched the whole locality carefully and thoroughly, but in vain. The youngster may have been crouching flat on the ground, relying on its resemblance to its surroundings, or it may have taken advantage of some slight inequalities in the ground and skulked away farther than we realized. Later in the day we found another pair of godwits, in a similar locality, with two young, one of which we secured. The young were in the downy stage, and apparently not over a week old. They showed unmistakable godwit characters, particularly in the shape of the head and bill, and the long legs and neck.
Plumages.—The downy young marbled godwit is in dull colors. The upper parts, including the posterior half of the crown, back rump, and wings are "bone brown" or "light seal brown," variegated on the back and rump with pale buff or grayish-white. The under parts, including the forehead, sides of the head, and neck, are "pinkish-buff," deepest on the neck and flanks, almost white on the belly and head and pure white on the chin and cheeks. There is a narrow loral stripe, extending not quite to the eye, a spot behind the ear, and a short stripe in the middle of the lower forehead of blackish-brown. The shape of the head and bill is characteristic of the species.
The cinnamon juvenal plumage begins to appear on the flanks at an early stage and its development is rapid. Before the end of July the young bird is fully fledged and able to fly. The fresh juvenal plumage is much like that of the adult in winter; but the throat and the sides of the head and neck are plain cinnamon without dusky streaks; the feathers of the back and scapulars are more broadly edged or notched, with brighter cinnamon; the greater and median wing coverts are much more broadly bordered with or more extensively cinnamon; the greater coverts are almost clear cinnamon, with very few dusky markings; and the tail is more broadly barred with dusky.
Apparently only a very limited amount of molt takes place during the first year. I have seen birds in juvenal or first winter plumage in November, January, and May, though the last two may be exceptional cases. Perhaps some young birds assume the adult plumage at the first prenuptial molt, but certainly not later than the first postnuptial. More material is necessary to settle this point.
Adults have a complete postnuptial molt beginning in July and lasting well into the fall. This produces the winter plumage in which the breast is immaculate cinnamon and there is little, if any, barring on the flanks. At the prenuptial molt in February and March the body plumage, or most of it, and the tail are molted.
Food.—Doctor Roberts (1919) says of the feeding habits of the marbled godwit:
With their long, up-curved bills they probe the shallow water of sloughs and lake shores for aquatic insects and mollusks and also spend much of their time on meadows and low-lying prairies, where they devour grasshoppers and other insects of many kinds. These big birds, when they were as abundant as they once were, must have been an important factor in keeping in check the dangerous insect hordes of our State. But they, with others of their kind, are gone and man is left to fight conditions as he must with agencies of his own devising, less efficient, perhaps, than those provided by nature.
Audubon (1840) says: "While feeding on the banks, it appears to search for food between and under the oysters with singular care, at times pushing the bill sidewise into the soft mud beneath the shells." The sand beaches of California are favorite feeding grounds, where I have seen it associated with the long-billed curlew. I was interested to see with what dexterity these long-billed birds could pick up a small mollusk and swallow it; I could plainly see the small object gradually travel up the long bill and into the mouth of the bird. Other observers have recorded in the food of this godwit snails, crustaceans, insects and their larvae, worms, and leeches.
Behavior.—The flight of the marbled godwit is strong, rather swift and direct; the head is usually drawn in somewhat, the bill pointed straight forward, and the feet stretched out behind. Audubon (1840) says: "When flying to a considerable distance, or migrating, they usually proceed in extended lines, presenting an irregular front, which rarely preserves its continuity for any length of time, but undulates and breaks as the birds advance." Mrs. Florence M. Bailey (1916) writes:
In flight they often made a close flock, calling queep, queep, queep, queep, queep, affording a beautiful sight as the light struck them and warmed up the cinnamon wings that make such a good recognition mark. They soared down handsomely, showing the cinnamon, and as they alighted held their wings straight over their backs for a moment, the black shoulder straps showing in strong contrast to the warm cinnamon.
Though the flocks were generally most amicable, occasionally one or two of their number would get to scrapping. Two got hold of each other's bills one day and held on, one or both crying lustily. In a group another day two came to blows, first just opening their bills at each other and talking argumentatively. Later one of them made passes at the other till the harried bird lifted his wings as if meditating escape, and finally when a pass was made at his long unprotected legs, flew away. When one was teased by a companion it often cried complainingly, go-way, go-way, go-way, go-way.
It was amusing to watch the birds feed. As a wave rolled up, combed over and broke, the white foam would chase them in, and as they ran before it, if it came on too fast, they would pick themselves up, open their wings till the cinnamon showed, and scoot in like excited children. But the instant the water began to recede they would right about face and trot back with it, splashing it up so that you could see it glisten. As they went their long bills—in the low afternoon sun strikingly coral red except for the black tip—were shoved ahead of them, feeding along through the wet sand, the light glinting from them; and if anything good was discovered deeper, the hunters would stop to probe, sometimes plunging the bill in up to the hilt, on rare occasions when the tidbit proved out of reach, actually crowding their heads down into the sand.
Like all of the shore birds, the marbled godwit is exceedingly demonstrative on its breeding grounds, flying out to meet the intruder as soon as he appears, making fully as much fuss at a distance from its nest as near it, and giving no clue as to its exact location. The cries of one pair of birds often attract others, and I have seen as many as eighteen birds flying about at one time in an especially favorable locality. It shows no signs of fear at such times, often alighting on the ground within ten or fifteen yards, standing for an instant with its beautifully marbled wings poised above it, a perfect picture of parental solicitude. Even while they were feeding on the shores of the lakes we could frequently walk up to within a few yards of them.
Hamilton M. Laing (1913), after describing how a snipe escaped from a duck hawk by diving into some rushes along a creek, tells of a similar trick played by a godwit, as follows:
In the second chase, the victim marked for death was a marbled godwit. Having often seen these birds swirling about at a dizzy pace and listened to the roar of their long knife wings as they smote the air in a playful descent, I felt assured that when the hawk started after them he would be very much outclassed. Yet in less than half a mile he was among them, had singled a victim and was stooping wickedly. Each time the godwit dodged, he emitted an angry or terrified cry, but the silent pursuer, with never a sign of fatigue, swooped and swooped and wore him down. Each time now the hawk overshot his mark a little less in the turnings. The last resort of the godwit was exactly that of the other snipe, but the former being over the big slough, dropped into the water. I saw the hairbreadth escape and the splash, but whether or not the godwit dived to get away, I could not tell. Some of the sandpipers can dive well, and probably the godwit escaped thus.