If this be not the Tricolor of Le Vaillant, which is the only Macaw I am aware of marked with a yellow nape, it is probably undescribed. The two descriptions do not, certainly, agree exactly; yet still I cannot but think the bird seen by Robinson, whose description I give below, to be this very rare species. Of the present specimen the Doctor says, “This bird I saw stuffed. The legs and tail were wanting. It seemed less than the common Red and Blue Macaw. By what I can judge from this sample, this bird has never yet either been figured or described. Sir Henry Moore, late Lieutenant Governor, often assured me that the Jamaica Macaw was very different from any he had ever seen. The subject now before us was shot [probably about 1765,] in the mountains of Hanover parish, about ten miles east of Lucea, by Mr. Odell.”

Latham has attributed Ara aracanga and ararauna to Jamaica; the former on the authority of Brisson.

The latter, Browne (Hist. Jam. 472,) expressly says he himself killed there. The Rev. Mr. Coward at present Curate of Highgate, near Spanish Town, informed me, that being in St. Elizabeth’s, in a plain at the foot of a chain of mountains dividing that parish from St. James, and consequently nearly in the medial line of the island, about 1842, one of the party called, “look! look!” and looking up, he saw two birds flying over-head, which he at once saw were parrots, but of very large size: and he was told that they were Macaws. On inquiring further of those resident in the neighbourhood, to whom the birds were familiar, he was informed that their plumage was blue and yellow. These were probably Ararauna.

A letter just received from Mr. Hill, who kindly assisted my inquiries on the subject, says;—“I have ascertained with unquestionable certainty, that Macaws are occasionally, if not constantly, denizens of our mountain forests. They are found exclusively in the central mountains westward of the island, and are observed on the skirt of the partially cleared country, at an elevation of 2500 or 3000 feet above the sea. They have been surprised in small companies feeding on the full-eared maize, while the grain was soft, milky, and sweet, and the very husk was sugary. Every description I have received of them, makes the species to be the Ara militaris, the Great Green Macaw of Mexico. The head is spoken of as red; the neck, shoulders, and underparts of a light and lively green; the greater wing-coverts and quills, blue; and the tail scarlet and blue on the upper surface, with the under plumage both of the wings and tail, a mass of intense orange yellow.

“Autumnal rains set in with westerly winds in the Gulf of Mexico, when the Ara is said to migrate from the mountain ranges on which it breeds on the continent, and not to return till the turn of the year. From our birds being found only in the western parts of the island, I suspect that they are casual visitors, coming to us at the end of the year. The ordinary Parrots wing high, but the Macaws are exceedingly high fliers, and the command of the continental and insular shores, could be no difficulty to birds of their powerful, though, usually, not long-sustained flight. When the October rains set in, storms and deluges from the mountains of the continent to the west of us, send myriad flocks of aquatic birds over to us, and it is extremely likely that these magnificent Parrots are driven to our shores, where they find in our genial mountains, the mild quietude of the upper summer woods of Mexico.

“A mountain district very remote, between Trelawney and St. Ann’s, here and there cleared and settled,—a peculiar country called the Black grounds, is said to be the never failing resort of these Mexican Macaws. I have been assured that several birds have been procured there. This is said to be nearly as far eastward as they have been found. Further westward, in the neighbourhood of the Accompong Maroons, young birds, bearing the evidence of being in the first year’s plumage, have been procured from hog-hunters. One specimen, purchased from them by Mr. White, the proprietor of Oxford estate, was for some time the admiration and talk of the country round. I have been informed by those who have noticed the bird on the wing, that although the Macaws are never seen but flying extremely high, their great size, and their splendid length of tail, brilliant with intense scarlet, and blue and yellow, strikingly attract attention, if their harsh scream, heard in the hushed mountain solitudes, does not betray them. They fly from one ridge to another, journeying in pairs, and have been followed by the eye till they have alighted on the loftiest of the forest trees, in their chosen resting places.”

YELLOW-BELLIED PARROQUET.[75]

The large earthy nests accumulated by the duck-ants (Termites,) around the trunk or branches of trees, frequently afford the Parroquet a fit situation for her own domestic economy. Though easily cut by her strong beak, the thin arches and galleries of these insects are of sufficiently firm consistence to constitute a secure and strong abode. In the cavity formed by her own industry she lays four or five eggs, upon the chips and dust.

But the precaution of the poor bird in selecting a locality, and her perseverance in burrowing into so solid a structure, are not sufficient to ensure her safety or that of her young. The aperture by which she herself enters and departs, affords also a ready entrance to a subtle and voracious enemy, the Yellow Boa. A young friend of mine once observing a Parroquet enter into a hole in a large duck-ants’ nest, situated on a bastard-cedar, mounted to take her eggs or young. Arrived at the place, he cautiously inserted his hand, which presently came into contact with something smooth and soft. He guessed it might be the callow young, but hesitating to trust it, he descended, and proceeded to cut a stick, keeping his eye on the orifice, from which the old bird had not yet flown. Having again mounted, he thrust in the stick and forced off the whole upper part of the structure, disclosing to his utter discomfiture and terror, an enormous Yellow Snake, about whose jaws the feathers of the swallowed Parroquet were still adhering, while more of her plumage scattered in the nest revealed her unhappy fate. The serpent instantly darted down the tree, and the astonished youth, certainly not less terrified, also descended with precipitation, and ran as if for life from the scene.

The food of this species consists of various fruits and seeds. The fiddle-wood, burn-wood, fig, and pride of China, afford it plentiful and agreeable nutriment. It cuts into the plantains, both when green and ripe; and its fondness for the sweet and spicy berries of the pimento renders it the abhorrence of the planter. I have seen it on the top of a guava-tree holding something in its foot, which it cut to pieces with its beak and fed upon; probably the young fruit. When the prickly-yellow is in seed, the Parroquets come in flocks to eat of it; when they lose their wonted wariness. I have known them to resort to a large tree, overhanging the public road, day after day; the passing by of persons beneath causing little observation; generally, however, they would utter a screech or two, and then go on feeding. I have shot several individuals from this tree in succession, yet in a few minutes the flock would be there again.

Often when mortally wounded by a shot, the grasp of the climbing feet, by which the bird was hanging from the twigs, becomes convulsively tightened, and the falling body is seen suspended head downward; for some minutes, often longer, it thus remains, the wings now and then giving an ineffectual flutter, till at last one foot relaxes its hold, and then the other, and the bird falls heavily to the ground. They are often sought for the table, and I can speak from personal knowledge to their juiciness and flavour, especially in the pimento season.

The flight of these birds is swift and rushing; in mid air they have a habit of suddenly deviating from the straight line of their course, making a sharp doubling, and then pursuing the same direction as before. They go in flocks, usually above the trees, and utter harsh screams as they fly. The sexes are precisely alike in plumage.

BLACK-BILLED PARROT.[76]

All the Parrots are gregarious, cunning, watchful, noisy, mischievous; and thus are like the Monkeys. This and the following species are so much alike in manners and general appearance, that a description of one applies nearly to the other. Flocks varying from half-a-dozen to twenty or thirty, fly hither and thither over the forest, screeching as they go, and all alight together on some tree covered with berries. Here they feast, but with caution; on a slight alarm one screams, and the whole flock is on the wing, vociferous if not musical; and brilliant if not beautiful; particularly when the sun shines on their green backs and crimsoned wings. They generally prefer lofty trees, except when, in June, the ripe yellow plantain tempts them to descend, or when the black berry shines upon the pimento. Of the latter, the flocks devour an immense quantity, and the former they destroy by cutting it to pieces with their powerful beaks, to get at the small seeds.

One day in January, when the pimento on the brow of Bluefields Mountain was about ready for picking, being full-sized, but yet green and hard, I observed large flocks of Black-bills and a few Parroquets, flying to and fro with voluble chatter, now alighting to feed on the hot aromatic berry, now flying off, and wheeling round to the same neighbourhood again. They were not at all shy, but, with unusual carelessness of our proximity, scarcely moved at the report of the gun which brought their companions to the ground. Of two which I shot on this occasion, I found the craws stuffed with the cotyledons of the seed alone, the most pungently aromatic part of the berry; the fleshy part having been, as I presume, shorn off by the beak and rejected. When alighted, as is often the case, on a dry branch, their emerald hue is conspicuous, and affords a fair mark for the gunner; but in a tree of full foliage, their colour proves an excellent concealment. They seem aware of this, and their sagacity prompts them frequently to rely on it for security. Often we hear their voices proceeding from a certain tree, or else have marked the descent of a flock upon it, but on proceeding to the spot, though the eye has not wandered from it, and we are therefore sure that they are there, we cannot discover an individual. We go close to the tree, but all is silent, and still as death; we institute a careful survey of every part with the eye, to detect the slightest motion, or the form of a bird among the leaves, but in vain; we begin to think that they have stolen off unperceived, but on throwing a stone into the tree, a dozen throats burst forth into cry, and as many green birds rush forth upon the wing.

The screaming of this and the following species differs from that of the Parroquet, so far as to be easily distinguished. That of the latter consists of a series of harsh screeches, of comparative length; that of the Parrots is less shrill, more broken into short and rapid articulations, forming series of varying length, separated by momentary pauses. It is, in fact, much more like a hurried chattering.

In some specimens, the patch of bright scarlet in the centre of the wing, is diminished to a slight tinge on the edge, or even entirely wanting. This is not a difference of sex, but probably of age.

I cannot well identify our Black-bill with Latham’s “Jamaica Black-billed Green Parrot;” he calls it var. α of Æstivus, which it surely is not; var. δ agrees in other particulars. Ours seems, as it were, made up of both descriptions.

YELLOW-BILLED PARROT.[77]

The Yellow-bill is less common than either of the only two preceding, but its habits are the same. The same fruits supply it with food, but in addition, it divides the oranges, to procure the pips, and even cuts the acrid cashew-nut, to extract the kernel; which the others will not do.

The present and the preceding species build in holes in lofty trees; often a hollow bread-nut is chosen, and often the capacious and comfortable cavity chiselled out by the Woodpecker. Four eggs are usually laid; and when the green feathers begin to clothe the callow heads of the promising family, they are too often taken by some daring youth, who having watched the parent to her hole, climbs the giddy elevation. He feeds the young with ripe plantain or banana, till they approach maturity, and their appetites can digest plainer food; for when grown they will eat almost anything.

All the three species learn to speak, but the Parroquet is barely intelligible; the Black-bill is the most docile, but the beauty and superior size of the Yellow-bill causes it to be preferred for the cage. One in full plumage, and able to articulate with distinctness, usually fetches about twenty shillings in the towns.

Robinson, in enumerating the Jamaican Psittacidæ, distinguishing them from introduced specimens, mentions in addition to those I have given, “the Mountain Parroquet.” (MSS. ii. 88.)

Fam.—PICIDÆ.—(The Woodpeckers.)

YELLOW-BELLIED WOODPECKER.[78]

Four or five specimens of this beautiful Woodpecker, all females, occurred to us, in the months of December, January, and February; but at no other time was it seen. I have no doubt it is a winter migrant from the northern continent, where, however, Wilson states that it abides all the year. I have nothing to give of its history: its manners, as far as observed, were those common to the tribe; the stomachs of such as I dissected, contained wood-boring larvæ.

RADIOLATED WOODPECKER.[79]

This species greatly resembles the Red-bellied Woodpecker of Wilson, (C. Carolinus,) from which it may be distinguished by the plumage of the rump and tail-coverts being barred as the back, and the tail being black, with the two middle feathers crossed by narrow bars of white on their inner vanes, and the outmost feathers spotted with white on the outer edge.

This is among the commonest of Jamaican birds, being abundant in all situations, from the shores to the summits of the mountains. His loud screams as he darts along from one dead tree to another, perpetually betray his proximity even before we see him. Like the rest of his tribe, his flight consists of a series of undulations, or rather a succession of arcs of a circle, performed by alternate strokes and closures of the wings. Though rapid and rushing in its character, it does not extend to long distances, nor does it appear capable of protraction, the wings having the shortness and hollowness which mark a subordinate power of flight. Occasionally he alights on a horizontal branch, but if so, it is lengthwise, not across, as other birds perch; neither does he stand up on the toes, elevating the tarsi, but squats down close to the wood, clinging rather than perching. Far more usually, however, he flies direct to the trunk, on whose perpendicular side he alights as suddenly as if he had been stuck there, and either commences rapping with his powerful beak, or hops upward till he finds a more promising scene of operations. If he wishes to descend, which he does but seldom, it is backward and in a diagonal direction; or sometimes he turns, so as to come down sideways, but it is never more than a short distance, and is performed so awkwardly, and in so scrambling a manner, as to indicate that he is not formed for descending.

His food is not confined to boring larvæ; the large red ants, so common in the woods, I have found numerous in his stomach; and at other times, hard strong seeds enclosed in a scarlet pulpy skin. In March we sometimes find him filled with the white pulp and oval seeds of the sour-sop. He is said to feed on the beautiful cherries (Cordia collococca) which in brilliant bunches are ripe at the same season; and I have seen him engaged in picking off the pretty crimson berries, that hang like clusters of miniature grapes from the fiddlewood (Cytharaxylon). Sometimes he extracts the pulp of the orange, having cut a hole through the rind; and mangoes he eats in the autumn. He does damage to the sugar-cane, by chiselling away the woody exterior, and sucking out the juice, and gets shot for this feat, by the owners.

I have never seen the nest, but I have seen the bird go in and out of a round hole, far up the stipe of a dead cocoa-nut palm, where doubtless it was nesting.

Fam.—CUCULIDÆ.—(The Cuckoos.)

RAINBIRD.[80]

Interesting to myself, as being the first bird that I obtained in Jamaica, I mention the fact, because the mode in which I procured it is illustrative of one of its most remarkable characteristics. A day or two after my arrival, I was taking a ramble with a little lad, who was delighted to be my pioneer and assistant; we had climbed a hill which was clothed with large timber, so densely matted with lianes and briers as to be almost impenetrable. We had, however, got into the thickest of it, when a large and handsome bird with a long tail, beautifully barred with black and white, appeared on a low shrub within a few feet of us, watching our motions with much apparent interest. My little friend informed me that it was a Rainbird, but that it had received also the title of Tom Fool, from its silly habit of gratifying its curiosity, instead of securing its safety. Without wasting many words, however, the youth picked up a “rock-stone,” as pebbles are called in Jamaica, and delivered the missile with so skilful an aim, that the bird dropped to the ground, and became the first-fruits of an ornithological collection.

I have often seen the bird since, and always with the same manners, jumping from twig to twig, or climbing with facility up the slender stems of the young trees, gazing at the intruder; and if driven away, flying only a few yards, and again peeping as before. It is little seen except where the woods are high, but is widely scattered on mountain as well as lowland.

The wings are remarkably short and hollow, like those of the Gallinaceæ, the bird displaying the unusual phenomenon of a length greater than the expanse. Conformably to this, the bird is seldom seen to fly except from tree to tree; more usually leaping in a hurried manner along the branches, or proceeding up the perpendicular bole by short jumps. When it does fly, it glides nearly in a straight line, without flapping the wings. It often sits on a branch in a remarkable posture, the head lower than the feet, and the long tail hanging nearly perpendicularly downward. When sitting it now and then utters a loud and harsh cackle, unvarying in note, but increasing in the rapidity of its emission; and sometimes this sound is produced during its short flights. All the time of this effusion, the beak is held widely opened. It may be imitated in some degree, by repeating the syllables, ticky ticky ticky, for about a minute, as rapidly as they can be uttered. It is frequently seen on the ground in morasses and woods, when it proceeds by a succession of bounds, the long tail held somewhat high, the head low: the tail is jerked forward by the impulse at each pause of motion; and the whole action is like that of the Crotophaga.

When held, it is fierce, trying with widely opened beak to bite, and uttering angry screams; the tail expanded. A male, which had been knocked down with a stone, but not much hurt, on being put into a cage, was outrageous when one’s hand was placed near the wires, dashing from side to side, now and then snapping at the hand, and snarling all the while, exactly in the tone of an angry puppy.

It is extremely retentive of life; sometimes when a wounded one has come into my possession, I have been distressed at the vain efforts that I have made to deprive it of life, without absolute destruction of the specimen. The craw is large and protuberant, below the sternum, and is usually much distended. I have found in various individuals large caterpillars, locusts, phasmata, spiders, phryni, a whole mouse, lizards, &c. Robinson found in one a large Green Anolis, eight inches long, coiled up in a spiral manner, the head being in the centre. He says it bruises the heads of lizards, and then swallows them head foremost, and the stomach being of a roundish form, he conjectures that the lizard must necessarily be coiled in this manner. Mr. Hill had one alive for several weeks; it seized cockroaches and other insects, when put into its box, and ate fresh meat, if chopped small.

I know nothing of the nest, except what the following note may afford. A young friend informs me that he once observed a Rainbird carrying “trash” into the hollow or fork of the divergent limbs of a logwood tree. Some little while after, passing that way, he observed a nest-like accumulation of similar substances, but as it was beyond reach, he took a long stick to poke it out. In doing so, he pushed out an egg, which was about as long as that of the Tinkling, but not so broad: its colour white with many spots, but he had no distinct recollection of what hue they were.

“When pairing,” observes Mr. Hill, “the male bird attracts the female by gracefully displaying his plumage. His long graduated tail, which insensibly blends tints of drab-grey with black, and terminates with a border of white, is then seen expanded. The short rufous wings are spread out, and the whole plumage, from the sage-grey, hair-like, downy web of the back, to the soft, dull yellow under feathers, are in motion, as the bird endeavours by playful dalliance to win his mate’s attention.”

HUNTER.[81]
Old Man.—Rainbird.

The appellation of Rainbird is indiscriminately applied to both this and the preceding, as is, in a less degree, that of Old Man. I use a term by which I have heard it distinguished, in St. Elizabeth’s, perhaps derived from the perseverance with which it “hunts” (i. e. searches) for its prey.

The manners of this fine bird greatly resemble those of its relative, and its prey is also similar. It is a bird of large size and imposing aspect, and its puffed plumage and long barred tail give it an appearance of even greater magnitude than it possesses. Its voice is sometimes a cackling repetition of one sound, increasing in rapidity until the separate notes are undistinguishable. At other times it is a hoarse croaking. The craw projects below the sternum, and the skin of that part of the abdomen is destitute of feathers and even of down.

The obesity of this bird is often extraordinary; I have seen the fat lying over the bowels, between the stomach and the vent, three-fourths of an inch thick. When alive, it has a strong musky odour, like that of the John-crow.

“In the changes of our mountain roads,” remarks Mr. Hill, “from deep masses of shadowy forest, with prodigious trees overgrown with moss, and climbing shrubs and lianes, to luxuriant and park-like pastures, flowery hedgerows and shrubby thickets,—two sounds, remarkable and different from each other, prevail. The one is the tapping of the Woodpecker, broken in its measured monotony by an occasional scream; and the other the rattle of the Rainbird, varied by a cry at intervals like the caw of the Crow tribe. The deep forest is the haunt of the Woodpecker,—the open thickets the resort of the Rainbird. The insects which form the food of the one, are those that subsist out of the sun-light, and perforate the alburnum of trees, or live beneath the bark; those that are the prey of the other, are the tribes that find their sustenance on the surface of vegetation, exist in the shade, and only resort to the open air to shift from place to place.”

YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO.[82]
May-bird.

All our Cuckoos but the present are permanent residents; this is but a summer visitor. Nor is it at any time very common, a few only taking up their abode with us, while their brethren continue their vernal migration from the southern to the northern continent. In the “Notes of a Year,” before quoted, Mr. Hill has the following observations on this species. “The visit of the May-bird is one of the precursors of the spring rains in this island. The hazy atmosphere which precedes the showers of the vernal season, has already dimmed the usual lustre of the sky; the winds have ceased; the heat has begun to be irritably oppressive; the air to assume a steamy denseness, hot and heavy; the butterflies have left the parched and blighted pastures to congregate wherever they can find any kind of moisture, and the insects to attract the Nightjars to the lowlands, when the stuttering voice of this Yellow-billed Cuckoo is heard among the prognostics of the coming rain.

“The May-bird, unlike the other Cuckoos with us, that never migrate, prefers straggling trees by the wayside to hedgerow thickets. With the first rain that falls, the hedge-trees, cleared of their dust, have begun to put forth fresh foliage, and to form those closer bowers favourable to the shy and solitary habits of this bird. It is [comparatively] long-winged, and its swift arrowy flight might be mistaken for that of some of the wild-pigeons. It ranges excursively, and flies horizontally with a noiseless speed, dropping on the topmost stems of trees, or descending into the middlemost branches. When alighting, it betrays its presence by a sound like the drawling cuck-cuck-cuck of a sauntering barn-door fowl.”

One which was slightly wounded, on being put into a cage with some Pea-doves, began to attack them by munching out their feathers. It was therefore placed by itself, when it sat moody and motionless; attempting occasionally, however, to seize cockroaches which were put in to it, and biting spitefully at the hand when approached.

In skinning this bird, an operation very difficult from the tenderness of the skin, my attention was called to a number of Entozoa, which were writhing about on the surface of the sclerotica of the eyes, within the orbit. They were very active, about half an inch long, and as thick as a horse-hair. Under a lens, they appeared whitish, pellucid, cylindrical, but tapered at each end; the intestinal canal distinctly visible, much corrugated and in motion. There were traces of transverse wrinkles. Sam informed me that he had observed them once before in the eyes of the same species.

BLACK-EARED CUCKOO.[83]

The tawny underparts, contrasted with the sober grey of the upper, glossed like shot-silk, and the long tail beautifully barred with black and white, render the subject before us one of the handsomest of this genus of Cuckoos. It is a dull, and, so to speak, a stupid bird; we not unfrequently see it suddenly fly out from the woods, and crossing the road rest on a branch at a short distance, where it sits little disturbed by the proximity of passengers: or jumps to another twig near, and thence to another. I have never heard it utter a sound. It lives on soft insects, large spiders, &c., which are stationary, and which it seeks by thus peeping among the trees, and for the capture of which long flights would be unnecessary.

I know nothing of its domestic economy; but in January I have found eggs in the ovary, as large as dust-shot.

The shortness of the intestinal canal, and its freedom from convolutions is remarkable, and struck me forcibly by comparison with that of a White-winged Dove, which I happened to dissect on the same day with this. The length of the intestine in the granivorous bird was forty-one inches, that in the insectivorous, ten.

SAVANNA BLACKBIRD.[84]

In all open places, but particularly savannas and pastures which are occupied by cattle or horses, these birds are seen all day long, and all the year round. They are perhaps the most common of the birds of Jamaica. Familiar and impudent, though very wary, they permit a considerable acquaintance with their manners, while an approach within a limited distance, in a moment sets the whole flock upon the wing, with a singular cry, which the negroes please to express by the words, going-awa-a-ay, but which may be as well described, according to the fancy of the hearer, as How-d’ye? or Anī. The appearance of the bird in its gliding flights is unusual; the body is slender, the head large, and the beak enormous; and as in flying it assumes a perfectly straight form, with the long tail in the same line, without flapping the wings, it takes the aspect, on a side view, rather of a fish than of a bird. The centre of the upper mandible is hollow, and the surrounding part is composed of cells of very thin bone, as is the lower mandible. It thus bears a great resemblance to the beaks of the Toucans and Hornbills. The belly is thin and lank, and the bird, even though fat, has always the appearance of meagreness: the shabbiness of the downy feathers that clothe the belly and the long tibiæ, adds to this effect. In these particulars, as well as in general aspect and manners, the Blackbird displays a strong affinity to the Cuckoos and Toucans; indeed, if I may judge from a living Rhamphastos carinatus which was some time in my possession, it seems nearer to the latter than to the former.

The food of our Blackbird, though consisting mainly of insects, is not confined to them. We usually find the stomach distended with caterpillars, moths, grasshoppers, beetles, and other insects, to such a degree that we wonder how the mass could have been forced in. But I have found these contents mixed up with, and stained by the berries of the snake-withe; and in July I have found the stomach crammed with the berries of the fiddle-wood, (Cytharaxylon,) which had stained the whole inner surface of a bright crimson. Flocks of these birds were at that time feeding on the glowing clusters profusely ripe upon the trees. Stationary insects are the staple food; to obtain which, they hop about grassy places, and are often seen to jump, or to run eagerly at their prey; on which occasions the long tail, continuing the given motion after the body has stopped, is thrown forward in an odd manner, sometimes nearly turning the bird head over heels. It is probably to protect the eyes from the stalks of weeds and blades of grass in these headlong leaps, that the projecting brows are furnished with a row of short but very stiff overhanging bristles; but what purpose was served by the high and thin knife-blade of a beak, I was ignorant, till informed by Mr. Hill, who observes that it “enables the bird to open out the soft earth, and seek for its insect food; it also facilitates its access to the vermin imbedded in the long close hair of animals. I am assured,” he adds, “that if a patch of cows’ dung be examined after Crotophagas have been searching for the larvæ of insects, it will be found furrowed as if a miniature plough had passed through it.”

The form of this organ has given occasion, in Hayti, where also it is common, to the appellation of “bout de tabac,” that is “bowl of tobacco pipe;” it is also called there Judeo.

The name Crotophaga, (tick-eater,) is no misnomer, as has been, without foundation, asserted by some who never saw the living bird. Almost every one in Jamaica is aware that the Savanna Blackbird, as well as the Grakle, feeds on the parasites of cattle. I made particular inquiries about this soon after my arrival, and was assured of the fact by persons who had witnessed it multitudes of times, and who could not “mistake” the Blackbird for the Grakle, their whole form, voice, and motions, being different.

Afterwards, however, I had repeated opportunities of personal observation on this point. One day I noticed a cow lying down, around which were four or five Blackbirds, hopping on and off her back, and eagerly picking the insects from her body; which service seemed in no wise unpleasing to her. I have also seen them leaping up on cows when grazing; and, on another occasion, jumping to and from a horse’s back; and my lad Sam has repeatedly observed them clinging to a cow’s tail, and picking insects from it, as far down as the terminal tuft. Had cattle been pastured near where I resided, I should doubtless have had many more ocular demonstrations: but the evidence is amply sufficient. In some of these cases, the occurrence was close to me, so that there was no possibility of deception, especially as, being aware of the conflicting statement, I looked with the more interest to satisfy myself.

But stationary insects are not the only prey of the Crotophaga; in December, I have seen little groups of them engaged in the evenings, leaping up from the pasture about a yard into the air, doubtless after flying insects, which they seemed to catch. One day in March as I sat at dinner, my attention was arrested by what seemed to be a green bird chased by several Crotophagas, near the top of a lofty tree at some distance, I presently saw that it was a very large lepidopterous insect; it flew over the woods about a quarter of a mile before I lost sight of it, when it appeared to alight on the top of a tree. The birds did not pursue the chase far. I have seen one with a dragon-fly in its beak, which it had just caught, but it may have been while resting. At another time I saw that a Blackbird had actually made prey of one of our little nimble lizards (Anolis). These circumstances show, that like the Toucans, the Ani is to some extent omnivorous.

Though its usual mode of progression on the ground is by hopping, or rather bounding, the feet being lifted together, the Blackbird is seen occasionally to run in a headlong manner for a short distance, moving the feet alternately. He is fond of sitting in the morning sun on a low tree with the wings expanded; remaining there perfectly still for a considerable time. In the heat of the day, in July and August, many may be seen in the lowland plains, sitting on the fences and logwood hedges with the beaks wide open, as if gasping for air; they then forget their usual loquacity and wariness. Often two or three will sit in the centre of a thick bush, overhung with a matted drapery of convolvolus, whence they utter their singular cry in a calling tone, as if they were playing at hide-and-seek, and requiring their fellows to come and find them.

The statement that the Blackbird builds in company, forming an immense nest of basket-work by the united labours of the flock, is universally maintained by the inhabitants of the colony. It is said to be usually on a high tree, where many parents bring forth and educate a common family. Mr. Hill, whose statements in Jamaican Ornithology are worthy of unlimited confidence, observes: “Some half-a-dozen of them together build but one nest, which is large and capacious enough for them to resort to in common, and to rear their young ones together. They are extremely attentive to the business of incubation, and never quit the nest, while sitting, without covering the eggs with leaves, to preserve them at an equal temperature.” The only instance in which I ever met with a nest, while it is not conclusive, is rather in favour of this opinion than the opposite. In July I found a Blackbirds’ nest in a Bastard Cedar (Guazuma); it was a rather large mass of interwoven twigs lined with leaves. Eight eggs were in the nest, and the shells of many more were also in it, and scattered beneath the tree. The eggs were about as large as a pullet’s, very regularly oval, of a greenish blue, but covered with a coating of white chalky substance, which was much scratched and eroded on them all, and which was displaced with little force. On being broken, the interior was peculiar; the glaire was less tenacious than usual, but more jelly-like, yet at the same time thinner in consistence; but what surprised me was, that in each egg this glaire filled at least three-fourths of the whole space, while the yolk, flattened in form, not larger in diameter than a coat-button-mould, and about twice as thick, was adhering to one side and end. It was pale, and resembled in appearance that of a hen’s egg, when just turned by boiling. I examined several, and found all alike.

I close this account with some pleasing notes of the species by Mr. Hill. “Though the Savanna Blackbird is classed among the scansorial or climbing tribe of birds, and has the yoke-formed foot,—like another class of the Cuckoo tribe among us, of which we have four or five different kinds,—it is generally a downward, not an upward climber. It enters a tree by alighting on the extremity of some main branch, and gains the centre of the foliage by creeping along the stem, and searching for its insect food. Unlike, however, our Cuckoos, which are solitary-feeding birds, it does not range from stem to stem, and search the tree through. The Blackbirds, moving in flocks of half-dozens, tens, and twelves, seldom penetrate far among the leaves. They glance along the branches rapidly, and silently quit the tree they have visited, by dropping one by one on some inviting spot on the green sward under them, or start away suddenly, the whole possé together, to some near-by thicket, to which one among them generally leads with that peculiar shrill and screaming cry that distinguishes them from every other bird of the field.

“These Savanna Blackbirds are favourites with me. Other winged wanderers have their season, but these are the tenants of the field all the year round. Their life is in the sunshine. Wherever there are open lands in tillage or pasture, with intermingled trees and shrubs, there these social birds frequent:—always familiar and seemingly fearless, but never omitting to set their sentinel watchmen to sound their cry when any one obtrudes nearer upon them than to a certain space within their social haunts.

“After a passing fall of rain, one of our sudden mid-day thunder showers for instance, when the full burst of sunshine, bright and fierce, breaks again on the freshened landscape;—the first bird seen creeping out from the thicket to dry his wings, and regain the fields, is the Savanna Blackbird. The Mocking-bird, ready as he is with his song, to gladden the landscape once more, is seldom before the shrill Blackbird, in breaking the hush that succeeds the overpast shower. Que-yuch, que-yuch, que-yuch is heard from some embowered clump not far off, and a little stream of Blackbirds, with their long tails and short gliding wings outstretched in flight, are seen straggling away to some spot, where insect-life is stirring, in the fresh, damp, and exuberant earth. The sun is levelling its slant beam along the plains, and the sea-breeze is breathing fresh and fragrant with a sense of reviving moisture from the afternoon showers, que-yuch, que-yuch, que-yuch is heard again, hastily and anxiously repeated; and the little birds are seen scrambling into the hedge-rows, and the Blackbirds are pushing from the outer limbs of the solitary thicket, from whence they sounded their cry of alarm, to gain the inward covert of the leaves. A hawk with silent stealth is skimming along the bordering woodland, gliding occasionally downward to the lesser bushes in the Savanna. The tocsin of the Blackbird, however, has warned the whole field, and not a voice is heard, and not a wing is stirring.

“In the hot and sultry days when the dews have ceased to fall, and all vegetation is parched and languid, the Blackbirds are seen wending their way at an early hour of the afternoon to the riverside, trooping in little parties. They have found some spot where an uprooted tree has grounded in the shallow stream. Here they are perched, some tail upward, drinking from the gliding waters below, some silent and drooping, some pluming themselves, and some in the sands that have shoaled about the embedded trunk of the tree, washing in the little half-inch depths of water. They will continue here till sunset, when they will start off laggingly, the signal being first given by some one of the flock, who has announced, that it is time to seek their coverts for the night, with the still peculiar cry of que-yuch.”

I am inclined to attach very little importance to the wrinkles on the beak as indicating specific difference: these, as well as the form and size of the organ, varying considerably in individuals from the same locality; the result, I have no doubt, of age.

Order.—GYRANTES. (Circlers.)

Fam.—COLUMBADÆ. (The pigeons.)

RING-TAIL PIGEON.[85]