A specimen of this little Crake was brought to me in April, alive and unhurt. It lived in a cage two days, but though I enclosed with it a vessel containing water and mud, with aquatic weeds in a growing state, and scattered on it crumbs of bread and pounded corn, it scarcely ate. Once or twice I observed it picking in the mud, but in general it would not even walk on it. Yet it was not at all timid. Its motions were very deliberate; slowly raising its large feet, and then setting them down, often without making a step. The neck was usually drawn in, short; and then it had little of the appearance of a Rail, but rather of a passerine bird; but when it walked, the neck was more or less extended horizontally, and now and then bridled up: the head was carried low. The throat was often in slight vibration, when standing still. I observed no flirting, nor erection of the tail.

On two or three occasions, I have seen the species. Near the end of August, pursuing a White Gaulin in the morasses of Sweet River, several of these little Rails, one at a time, flew out from the low rushes before my feet, and fluttering along for a few yards, with a very laboured flight, dropped in the dense rush again. Their manner of flight, and their figure greatly resembled those of a chicken; the legs hung inertly down. I saw another in February, by the border of the River at the Short Cut, flying with the same feeble and laborious motion, from one tuft of herbage to another, whence it would not emerge till almost trodden on.

I have not heard it utter any sound; but Robinson, in describing two that were brought to him alive in October, 1760, says, “their cry was very low, and resembled that of a Coot, when at a great distance.” He notices also their peculiar mode of flight, as well as their habit of squatting. “Several,” he observes, “were killed accidentally, by the negroes at work; as they are so foolish as to hide their heads, and, cocking up their rumps, think they are safe, when they are easily taken.” (MSS. iii. 112.) He says elsewhere, “The negroes in Clarendon call it Cacky-quaw, by reason of its cry, which consists of three articulations; the negroes in Westmoreland call it Johnny Ho, and Kitty Go, for the same reason.” (iii. 134.)

The gizzard of the one that I examined, contained a few hard seeds. The body is much compressed.

The speckled plumage, rufous neck, and scarlet eyes, constitute this a species of much beauty.

SULTANA.[118]
(Martinico Gallinule.—Wils.)

This magnificent bird is not uncommon in some of the lowland ponds and marshy rivers of Jamaica. The road from Savannah le Mar to Negril, passes through the immense swamp of the Cabarita River, the tall and dense rushes of which form a wall on each side of the way, which in the wet season is overflowed. Riding there one day in January, I saw a Sultana walking in the middle of the road; a horseman had passed an instant before, who certainly had not disturbed it; and on my approach it took no more notice than a common fowl, sauntering about, and picking here and there; allowing me to come within three or four feet of it. I stopped and gazed at it, and at length made a noise and a sudden motion with my hands; but it merely half-opened the wings, and gave a little start, exactly as a chicken would do, but neither flew nor ran. I never saw a bird, feræ naturæ, so tame.

I afterwards found that this vast morass abounded with them, and that their presence in the high road was a thing of daily occurrence; and though I never saw them quite so fearless as the one I have mentioned, still they were very bold, walking out from the rushes and strolling across the road in the sight of passengers.

The aspect of the living bird is not that of a Gallinule; it stands high on the legs, which are placed more forward: its air is much like that of a fowl, but its contour is much slenderer. As it walks, the neck is bridled up, and thrown forward alternately, and the short black and white tail, which is semi-erect, is, at every step, flirted up with a jerk into a perpendicular position.

I was struck with the remarkable elegance of one, that I saw by the roadside, about mid-way between Savanna le Mar and Bluefields. It was at one of those pieces of dark water called Blue-holes, reputed to be unfathomable. The surface was covered with the leaves and tangled stems of various water-plants, and on these the Sultana was walking, supported by its breadth of foot; so that the leaves on which it trod sank only an inch or two, notwithstanding that the bird, according to its usual manner, moved with great deliberation, frequently standing still, and looking leisurely on either side. As it walked over to where the water was less encumbered, it became more immersed, until it seemed to be swimming, yet even then, from the motion of its legs, it was evidently walking, either on the bottom, or on the yielding plants. At the margin of the pool, it stood some time, in a dark nook overhung by bushes, where its green and purple hues were finely thrown out by the dark background. I could not help thinking what a beautiful addition it would make to an ornamental water in an English park; and the more so, because its confiding tameness allows of approach sufficiently near to admire its brilliancy. Nor are its motions void of elegance: the constant jerking of its pied tail is perhaps rather singular than admirable, but the bridling of its curved and lengthened neck, and the lifting of its feet are certainly graceful.

That the Sultana could be easily domesticated is probable: Mr. Hill once kept one for three months, which fed eagerly on Guinea-corn (Holcus sorghum).

The immense length of the toes in this bird is a wise and beautiful provision for its support on the aquatic herbage, which usually covers the surface of standing waters in warm countries. Xenophon, in the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, if I mistake not, has mentioned a country, where they were in the habit of affixing hurdles to the horses’ hoofs, to enable them to cross rivers without sinking. This device, however, could be available only on a weedy surface.

Robinson, who has a drawing of this species, says, “This is called the true Plantain Coot, by reason of his great affection for that fruit.” In describing what he calls the Carpenter Coot, which seems merely the present bird in immature plumage, he says, “It has its name from the noise it makes; it being customary for these birds to assemble, and knock against pieces of felled timber with their beaks, either in search of insects, or to break the shells of the water-snails, which are common in the ponds and rivers of these parts. The noise they make when thus busied has been not badly likened to that of carpenters at work. And I am deceived if the Clucking-hen makes not a like noise, and for a similar purpose. I have been since credibly informed they do. The Carpenter Coot lays in March, and has young in April.” (MSS.)

On taking off the skin, one is struck to observe the bases of all the feathers projecting from the interior surface, to an extent seen in no other birds than those of this genus.

SCARLET-FRONTED GALLINULE.[119]

By a confusion of terms this species is called in Jamaica the Coot, while the following is known by the name of Water-hen.

This bird is scarcely to be distinguished from the European Moor-hen, in appearance or in manners. It delights in any water where there is cover; sometimes a swiftly running stream, as Sweet River, where the bushes dip their branches into the water, or the margins are fringed with high weeds; but more usually large ponds, in which tall and thick bulrushes densely grow, or masses of the great ginger-fern. On approaching such a piece of water early in the morning, or at any hour of the day, if the place be unfrequented, we may see the Gallinules playing on the surface, some by their black plumage and scarlet shields, known to be females, the browner males less dressy, as becomes their sex, and some smaller and greyer, which are young. As they swim to and fro, they utter a loud cluck at short intervals; but on alarm each one sounds the note in a higher key, and the whole company dashes into the cover. Here they continue to call to one another; but if much pressed, they lie close, or conceal themselves in some way, so as to elude search even in a very small area; probably by keeping under water, holding on the roots of the rushes. But if the observer remain quite silent and concealed, in about half an hour the cluck is again raised, and they begin cautiously to re-emerge, and play at the margin of the reeds. I think the sense of sight is less acute with them than that of hearing.

One which I slightly wounded, on my carrying it by the legs, repeatedly turned up its head to bite; its force, however, was insufficient to break the skin, though it could pinch a little. Another in similar circumstances, I also found vicious in its attempts, though ineffective. On arriving at home, I wished to observe its manners in the water more closely, and for this purpose I fastened a cord to its foot, having bandaged it to prevent its being hurt or cut, and then let it swim in the pools of Bluefields River. Its first impulse was to dive, and then to swim along about a foot beneath the surface, which it did for a considerable distance, aiding its progress by striking out, not only the feet, but also the wings, which were expanded. It thus reminded me of a turtle. When immerged, the whole plumage was coated with a pellicle of air, which had a singular and beautiful effect. When it swam at the surface, little of the body but the back was exposed, and sometimes only the neck and head. It made constant efforts to reach the weeds and grass at the margins, and if allowed to do so, crept in among them, and remained motionless. Sometimes, when thus retired, it put its whole head beneath the water, and remained still, so long that I feared it was drowned; but on being touched, it raised its head uninjured. It seemed unwilling to walk; perhaps because its legs were stiff, from having been held in the hand; on a boarded floor, it could only shuffle along on its belly: and on the turf, it seemed capable of maintaining a walking posture only as long as its motion was rapid; the moment its speed abated, its breast came to the ground, owing to the backward position of its legs. Its fœcal discharges, when first secured, were a thin black mud, but afterwards were merely a clear water, slightly tinged with green.

The belly in these birds is always protuberant; the intestines being both very long and very large; the cæca are also enormous. The stomach, a very large and muscular gizzard, is usually filled, as well as the craw and intestine, with a greenish earth, which under a lens is seen to contain much organized matter, as minute seeds, decaying leaves, &c. From the circumstance of an excessive quantity of matter being taken into the stomach, containing a comparatively small proportion of nutritive substance, we see the need of the digestive organs being both capacious and lengthened.

The young of the season have the legs and feet of their full size and development, while the feathers of the wings are only beginning to protrude; showing how subordinate the organs of flight are to those of swimming.

Early in December we found an egg in Mount Edgecumbe pond, undoubtedly of this species, for no other large bird frequents it. It was larger than a hen’s egg, but more regularly oval: and appeared to have been of a pale blue tint, but covered with a coat of white chalky substance. It was lying on some crushed reeds at the surface, but evidently had been floating a long time, for it was discoloured, and the contents were coagulated by decomposition.

CINEREOUS COOT.[120]

In the immense morass behind Savanna le Mar, the dense rushes afford shelter to innumerable aquatic birds, among which one may recognise, even at a distance, the Sultanas by their graceful air and slender form, the Gallinules by their scarlet shields, and the Coots by their conspicuous ivory beaks. In the broad spaces of open water, which here and there margin the reeds, as at Radonda, they may be seen at all hours of the day, if undisturbed, hundreds congregated within an acre. Wary, however, to an excess, the distant sight of a man, or the snapping of the twigs beneath his tread, alarms the whole, and away they flutter into the covert, splashing the surface as they go. Yet the noise made by the cattle walking on the shore, or trampling and munching the reeds, as they wade breast-high, has no such effect. The best way to shoot them is to lie very quiet, if the musquitoes will allow you, behind a bush, and take them as they come out, sometimes two or three at a shot; or else to wade in among the reeds, and bring them down as they rise; though sometimes you cannot flush them. A good water dog is indispensable to success.

As far as my observation goes, the white shield is the mark of mature age: in the young it is dark brown; I have not seen any with the shield wholly white, the upper part still being brown. After having been carried head downward for some time, I found the beak of one, instead of white, livid purple, as if filled with blood. The stomachs usually contain small seeds, and decaying vegetable matter mixed with mud and sand.

Fam.—RECURVIROSTRADÆ. (The Avocets.)

ROSEATE STILT.[121]

This beautiful and singular bird first fell under my observation in December. It was wading in the water of Crab-pond, picking from the mud at the bottom, with the beak, the water reaching not quite half-way up the tarsus. It did not feel with the beak in the manner of the Snipe, but struck at the prey that caught its eye, as it walked with the head erect. The statement of Cuvier that walking is painful to this bird, is as contrary to fact as to reason. This specimen was walking in the shallow firmly enough; and even when shot in one leg so as to break it, it stood for some time on the other in a firm erect attitude, the broken limb being held up and dangling.

Three were shot at Bluefields Creek on the 1st of May, in the evening, out of a large flock that were wading on the little bar at the mouth,—and were brought to me. One which had the wing broken was alive, and otherwise unhurt. It ran actively enough, without the slightest vacillation, taking long strides; but when it was on its belly, it could not get on its legs without help, sprawling about with opened wings: it is quite likely, however, that this was owing to one wing being rendered useless, for in attempting to rise, I perceived, it always tried to balance itself by opening and extending horizontally the wings. Probably this is the compensation given to it by the Allwise Creator, for the want of purchase which must be felt in raising the body at the end of levers, so long and so slender as the legs. It frequently stopped abruptly, essayed to go on, and stopped again, in that hesitating manner common to the Plovers; and like them it often jerked the head up and down. Its usual attitude, when standing still, was with the neck shortened, so that the head projected from between the shoulders, the beak pointing obliquely downwards, and the hinder parts of the body a little elevated. Now and then it lifted one foot, and held it dangling behind the other for a few seconds. Once or twice I saw it pick at the floor, and probably it took a small insect. Its cry, which was uttered once or twice, was a short clank, loud, harsh, and abrupt. I cannot by any means agree with Wilson, that this bird manifests no resemblance to the Plovers.

The stomachs of these contained a few small shells, Turbo and Nerita: two which Robinson dissected contained “a kind of Cornu-ammonis,” probably Planorbis. He notices also, what I have not seen mentioned in print, but which was conspicuous enough in my specimen, a beautiful rosy blush on the white of the neck and breast; but only in the male. The females had eggs in the ovary at this time, (1st May) as large as pigeon-shot. They were all very fat, the fat being of a deep yellow hue.

Mr. Hill has favoured me with the following notes on this species: “In addition to the extraordinary length of leg of the Himantopus, it has been asserted that its leg-bones are as limber as a leathern thong, and that they can be bent up without being broken. The accurate Wilson has made this statement. I will not merely say that it is at variance with my experience, but that it is absolutely absurd. The bones of this bird are as rigid as those of any other. [To this I add also my own testimony.] The only peculiarity I observe in them, is a flatness in the make of the leg. While the measurement is a fourth of an inch one way, it is scarcely an eighth of an inch the other. The tendon that runs all along the limb is very large, and the skin that envelopes the whole leg very fleshy. A fleshy feeling of softness is the only approach to the leathery peculiarity so confidently spoken of. The bill has a trifling trace, almost imperceptible, of recurvature. It is very rigid. Out of sixteen or eighteen birds carefully examined, I saw only one with a very decidedly marked recurved character. There was another circumstance I observed, very worthy of notice; viz. that the length of the legs of no two birds was precisely the same. Nearly half an inch of difference was found between the tibia and tarsus of the longest, and of the shortest specimens. [My own observation fully bears out this statement.]

“The birds brought me were shot while feeding in some shallow pools of water in the Salines at Passage Fort. They were wading deeply. They fed in small flocks, and winged about sportively, mingled with Sandpipers of the Tringa cinerea species. A variety of Teal were there also; and the Shoveler Duck (Rhynchaspis clypeata), a peculiar insect-feeder, being among them at the same time, makes us pretty distinctly acquainted with the food of Himantopus.

“In March 1842, I noticed several Stilt Plovers fishing breast-high in a lakelet at the mouth of the Rio Cobre, which I used to look upon from the window of the dwelling I stayed at, at Passage Fort. I saw some eight or ten together, when a Kingfisher was fishing at one end of the pond, and an Osprey at the other; the Kingfisher confining himself to the tranquil stream, and the Osprey to the broken waters, where the current of the river contended with the shoaling sea. I saw the Stilts there an hour together, beating breast-high over the pond. It was evident that their food floated on the surface.”

My friend adds Recurvirostra Americana, as an occasional visitant of Jamaica.

Order.—ANSERES. (Swimmers.)

Fam.—ANATIDÆ. (The Ducks.)

RED FLAMINGO.[122]

The dimensions given below are from a specimen shot on the beach at Negril, in March 1764; from the Doctor’s description, it seems to have been scarcely mature. He adds, “I once saw a living one at Kingston. Its food was white bread steeped in water in a washing basin. In feeding, it immerged its upper mandible in the bottom of the basin, resting on the elbow or angle of that mandible, and by quick repeated motions, like those of a duck in the mud, sucked up the finest parts of the dissolving bread.”

As I have never met with this beautiful bird in Jamaica, I am the more obliged for the following memoir from the pen of my kind friend, Mr. Hill. “I believe the Flamingo is never seen now upon our coasts, but as a solitary bird, or, at most, associated with three or four companions, when they make excursions in small groups, preparatory to pairing and breeding. The congregated flocks of the neighbouring islands disperse themselves; and stragglers appear upon the sand-bars at the mouths of our rivers, occasionally, in seasons remarkable for visits of the Hyperborean and the Canada Goose. We are best acquainted with them as inhabitants of Cuba. The waters between the thinly peopled shores of that island, and the clustered green kays of the coast, to which Columbus gave the names of the Gardens of the King and Queen, are low and shoaly. In these shallow seas, in adjacent swamps, in river-lakes, in marshes and lagoons, and salina-ponds, they are to be always seen moving in flocks, or flying and feeding in ranks of two and three hundred together. Their lengthened lines and red plumage have led the colonial Spaniards to call them English soldiers, a name not inappropriate to birds that marshal themselves under a leader, and regulate their movements by signals, when the remotest danger threatens; and obey the bugle-blast of their sentinel, when he summons the cohorts to the wing, and to betake themselves to other feeding-grounds.

“I visited the district of Boyamo on the south side of Cuba in the year 1821, and was on the coast from January to April. I was much among the marshes and swamps about the river Conta, a stream that receives the tidal waters, which here rise and fall six or seven feet, at fifty miles along its course. At the mouth of this river there are long stretches of shoal ground, where the floods of the river and the sea form lakelets, and successively deposit their stores of living atoms, with the rising and falling tides. Here the Flamingoes flock and feed. They arrange themselves in what seem to be lines, in consequence of their finding their food along the edges of these shallows; and though it is true that whilst their heads are down, and they are cluttering with their bills in the water, they have one of their number on the watch, standing erect, with his long neck turning round to every point, ready to sound the alarm on the apprehension of danger,—what appears to be a studied distribution of themselves back to back, as some observers describe their arrangement, is nothing but their regardless turning about in their places, inwardly and outwardly, at a time when all are intent on making the most of the stores which the prolific waters are yielding.

“The vessel I was with on the coast of Cuba was loading timber. Our raftsmen brought us from Juanita, a town on the Rio Conta to which the tidal influences of the sea extend, a pair of Flamingoes. I was struck with their attitudes, with the excellent adaptation of their two-fold character of waders and swimmers, to their habits, while standing and feeding in the sort of shoal which we made them in a large tub upon deck. We were here able to observe their natural gait and action. With a firm erectness, like a man treading a wine press, they trod and stirred the mashed biscuits, and junked fish, with which we fed them; and plied their long lithe necks, scooping with their heads reversed, and bent inwardly towards their trampling feet. The bill being crooked, and flattened for accommodation to this reversed mode of feeding, when the head is thrust down into the mud-shoals and the sand drifts, the upper bill alone touches the ground. The structure of the tongue, of which Professor Owen has given so minute and interesting a description, is admirably adapted for a mode of feeding altogether peculiar. The spines with which the upper surface is armed, are arranged in an irregular and alternate series, and act with the notches on the edge of the upper mandible, on which they press when the bird feeds with the head reversed. In this reversed position, the weight and size of the tongue becomes a very efficient instrument for entrapping the food. The bird muddles, and clatters the bill, and dabbles about, and the tongue receives and holds as a strainer whatever the water offers of food.

“When I made my notes of the Flamingo, thought I had remarked what had hitherto been unobserved, respecting the ceaseless trampling of the feet while feeding; but I find Catesby has described it.... A correspondent of Buffon’s also, I perceive, communicated the same fact, with other incidents equally striking....

“There is nothing of the Heron character in the Flamingo. Extraordinary length of neck and legs is common to both, but a firm erect posture is its ordinary standing attitude. The neck is never curved inward and outward, convex and concave, like a Crane’s, but its movements are in long sweeping curves, which are peculiarly pleasing, when the bird is preening its plumage.

“The bar at the mouth of the Rio Conta stretches some two miles and a half out to sea, with a narrow inlet about nine feet deep at high water. Here the Flamingoes, at the season when they associate in flocks, are congregated by hundreds. They feed divided into the lines I have explained already, and subdivided into companies. A scout on some advantageous point apart, where he may glance alternately at the lengthened reach of the river, and at the sweeping sinuosities of the coast, right and left, sounds his orders to the squadron. A sort of long-drawn trumpet-call is the signal of danger. At the warning to retreat, the whole troop rise on the wing crying and screaming. They fly in a stiff cruciform posture, with the neck extended swan-like, and the legs depending, but stretched behind so as to balance the flight. When thus suddenly alarmed, they rise to the height of the belt of mangroves that close in some neighbouring lagoon, and clearing the fringing woodland, drop within the impervious wilderness, and then feed no longer congregated, but dispersed about.”

Robinson states that “the flesh is tough: they skin them and boil them. The broth is very good and rich. The fat of the bird being orange-coloured, like that of the Great White Curlew, gives it a very agreeable and rich appearance.” The Doctor also observes, “The body appears depressed, not compressed as the Ardeæ.” (MSS.)

BLACK-BILLED WHISTLING DUCK.[123]

The Whistling Duck is well known in Jamaica, by the singular note which has conferred on it its provincial name. This note uttered in its crepuscular flights to and from its feeding-places, and also when alarmed, is peculiarly shrill, and bears no small resemblance to the sound produced by blowing forcibly over the pipe of a drawer-key.

It is much dreaded by those who plant Guinea-corn; in February, when this grain is in the milk, the ducks in a compact flock dash forcibly into the corn, striking down a large breadth, on which they can stand, and eat the soft grain at ease. But for this impetus, they could have no means of reaching the panicle, from its loftiness; nor of bringing down the stalk with their beaks, from its firmness: nor, from its slenderness, would their arboreal habits avail them to perch on it. Numerous flocks of both young and old birds, frequent the millet-fields from December till the end of February, when this corn is reaped. They are most busy in their depredations on moonlight nights; and as they sweep round in circles, their remarkable whistle always betrays their movements.

The young are frequently taken, and brought up in the poultry yard with the tame ducks, either pinioned, or sufficiently subdued by kindness to be allowed liberty. These are always found to attract large flocks of their wild brethren to the farm-ponds, and are often preserved for that purpose. The tame birds, which are allowed to roam, even go to a considerable distance in search of the wild flocks, and bring them home. Some, with which Mr. Hill was familiar near Spanish Town, always led the whole flock of aquatic poultry, invariably marching at their head, when called from the pond to be fed, and when fed, returning in the same order to the water again.

A gentleman of Spanish Town informs me that the nest of this bird is usually at the foot of a mangrove, and that it lays eight or nine eggs. Robinson, however, gives it a different mode of nidification, having been informed by Mr. Thistlewood of Savanna le Mar, a copious contributor to his ornithological notes, that “the Whistling Ducks sometimes make their nests in hollow trees above thirty feet in height, and the hollows or cavities several feet deep, which makes him at a loss to know by what method the little ducklings either get up the hollow, or down the tree when up; but he thinks the old one must carry them; and I believe this must be soon after they are hatched; for I cannot suppose she can carry food and water for them into such a place; it being not known that any birds of this kind ever feed their young. [See Wilson, on the Summer Duck.] However, I believe the young ducks may jump out of such a cavity; for a day or two after they have been hatched, they have been known to jump out of a barrel, and far above that height.” (MSS. ii. 85.)

“The Whistling Duck endeavours to save her young, when pursued, by throwing herself into the man’s way; that is, by rushing up so close to him as to draw his attention, that her young, who are very active, may have an opportunity of escaping. Accordingly, the man, seeing the duck so near him, looking upon her as a much better prize than the young ones, leaves pursuing the ducklings, and endeavours to catch the subtil dame, who runs before, but takes special care to keep out of his reach; yet stopping in front of him, occasionally, to make him renew the pursuit, till the young are entirely out of danger; when she flies away, leaving her pursuer to fret at his double disappointment. This I had from a person of credit, who affirmed that himself was thus deceived. The Whistling Duck is very hard to catch, if its wing only is disabled; and will outrun a man, if he be not very nimble.

“The Whistling Duck breeds numerous in the morasses of Westmoreland; in such places they remain all day, and in the evening disperse themselves over the ponds in the open plains to feed, till near morning, when they return. It is usual for people to watch for them in the evening, when they go to feed, and to shoot them. When the gunner hears them whistling in their flight, he imitates the sound, and thus lures them to where he is, and, of course, to their destruction. A duck and mallard with their young brood commonly fly together.” (Rob. MSS.)

Mr. Swainson’s conjectures that this is the male of the Red-billed species, (Anim. in Menag. p. 223.) and also that it is the female (Ibid. p. 224.) are both groundless. The Red-bill is perfectly distinct; and the sexes of the present species do not differ from each other. The difference in depth of the warm brown tint on the belly and chin is common to both sexes. The trachea is terminated by a trilateral bony capsule, where the bronchi divaricate. There is but one pair of tracheal muscles. The feet-webs are so concave, as to be little more than semi-palmate.

It is very common in Hayti, where its Indian name, Iguasa, is adopted by the Spaniards.

All Ducks are fond of shaking their tails and their feathers, but in the Whistling Ducks of both species, from their height, this is particularly conspicuous.

The Red-billed Whistling Duck (D. Autumnalis) though much less common in Jamaica than the preceding, is found there in some seasons, as an autumnal visitant from the Spanish-main. I have seen several in a state of domestication, allowed to run in a yard at Kingston, but they had been imported.

GREEN-BACKED MALLARD.[124]

I have ventured to give a name to the magnificent Duck described below, notwithstanding the opinion of so high an authority as Mr. G. R. Gray, who, on inspecting my specimen, considered it a hybrid. Though I have the greatest respect for the judgment of that gentleman, I cannot feel quite free from doubt on the subject for the following reasons. At Radonda water, near Savanna le Mar, where my specimen was shot, it seemed well known to the negro gunners, who had been accustomed to call it Wigeon, and who stated that others had been lately (at the end of February) seen in the neighbouring waters.

Robinson was acquainted with this identical species, (or variety?) nearly a hundred years ago. “Mr. Thistlewood shot a Duck and Drake, which he called the Wild Muscovy Duck and Drake, not on account of their resembling those birds in colour, but in size, for the Drake equalled the Muscovy Drake, and the Duck the Muscovy Duck. The Wild Muscovy Duck, Mr. T. says, was covered with a most elegant, beautiful plumage, far surpassing that of any bird of this kind he ever saw.” (MSS. ii. 86.) From an elaborate description and admeasurement, which the Doctor afterwards gives, I find the male agrees accurately with mine, save that its expanse was 48 inches, and its tail 7½, the extremity being curled upwards. The female also was shot, but dived and escaped: it was in the great pond at Egypt, (close to which mine was obtained,) November 19th, 1753.

I leave the question thus; merely adding that the trachea of mine, (a male) terminated in a large pear-shaped bony capsule, on the left side. The stomach contained hard seeds of sedges, with some vegetable fibre. The testes were comparatively small.

LUNATE BLUEWING.[125]

This is one of the ducks which, being in high estimation for sapidity, are largely brought to market in the towns. My acquaintance with it is indeed confined to this condition. Robinson notices it, as frequently met with in the wet months. He saw one in the yard of Edward Long, Esq., of Spanish Town, where it fed amongst the poultry: “it was coloured like that painted in Mr. Catesby’s History of Carolina, i. p. 100, and was known to be a female by having laid an egg, though Mr. Catesby says the female is all over brown.” (MSS. ii. 120) Robinson agrees with Browne in considering this a permanent inhabitant of Jamaica, having known them shot, even during the dry season.

Of those which I examined, the stomachs contained coarse siliceous sand, and small black seeds; the œsophagus of one contained several small fishes.

PLAIN BLUEWING.[126]