The bird which Robinson has described (MSS. ii. 124,) in the terms quoted below, is doubtless to be referred to this species, though from the shortness of the tail-feathers, and the colour of the beak and feet, I presume it to have been an immature specimen. He describes its habits as resembling those of the Terns: it was brought to him alive, having been knocked off a fish-pot-buoy; he kept it almost a week, feeding it with the offal of fish, which it ate greedily. When it attempted to walk, it spread its wings, and waddled along with much difficulty, which arose not only from the backward position of its legs, but also from their shortness and weakness. Sometimes it made a chattering noise, like the Belted Kingfisher, and it had another cry, not unlike that of a Gull. It would bite, upon occasion, very hard. The head and neck were very big in proportion.

It is mentioned to me as one of the constant frequenters of the Pedro Kays.

Fam.—LARIDÆ. (The Gulls.)

CRESTED TERN.[135]
White Egg-Bird.

This large and beautiful Tern is the most common species we have in the vicinity of Bluefields. Its powerful beak of a bright orange hue, its pointed occipital crests of black, the pearly tint of its upper, and the satiny lustre of its under parts, constitute it a species of much beauty. In the autumn months we may frequently see this bird fishing. A quarter of a mile from the shore, off Crabpond Point, there is a reef, above which it may be seen almost every day. Quite solitary in his habits, the Crested Tern prefers to fish alone; and though sometimes two or three may be in view at once, there is no association, no accordance of movement, as in the Pelicans. High above the water, we discern a bird, the snowy whiteness of whose plumage contrasts with the blue sky; he flies rapidly round and round in a large circle, quickly flapping his wings without intermission. Suddenly, he arrests his flight, flutters his wings in rapid vibration, as he looks downwards, but in a moment proceeds as before: it was doubtless a fish near the surface, but which disappeared before he could descend. Presently he again stops short, flutters,—then bringing the elbow of the wings to a right angle, descends perpendicularly, but with a singular turning of the body, so as to present now the back, now the belly, alternately, to the observer; not, however, by a rotation, but irregularly, and as if by jerks. But his purpose is again frustrated; for on nearly reaching the surface, he recovers himself with a graceful sweep, and remounts on flagging wing. Again he circles; and again, and again stops: at length, down he swoops, disappears with a plash, and in a moment breaks, struggling, from the wave, and, as if to rise burdened with prey were difficult, flags heavily near the surface, and circling slowly round, gradually regains his former altitude. Suddenly,—as if alarmed, though nothing appears to cause it,—he utters two or three loud cries in a plaintive tone, and flies off, along the coast, until he is concealed from view by the projecting mangroves. Yet, strange to say, in a few seconds he returns, and calmly pursues his wonted occupation. When satiated, he betakes himself to some one of the logs of wood which are placed as buoys by the fishermen to mark the position of their sunken fish-pots; and on this he reposes all night, rocked to sleep by the roll of the surf. The fishermen, on visiting their pots at early day, find the Terns, exceedingly often, sitting on the buoys; and so fearless are they, that not seldom a canoe may be paddled nearly within touch of one before he will fly.

Though web-footed, I believe none of the Terns are ever seen to swim. One shot and wounded in the wing made no effort to strike out, but merely struggled in the water as a land-bird would do. This specimen was brought home alive; it attempted to bite, striking with the beak. The flesh was dark, and resembled that of a Duck.

EGG-BIRD.[136]

For my information concerning this species, I am principally indebted to Mr. Hill; a single specimen only having fallen into my possession, which was shot by Sam, sitting on a fish-pot buoy near Bluefields, in the manner of the former species.

It is, however, a bird of considerable commercial importance; for its eggs, in common with those of the Noddy (Megalopterus stolidus) and the Sandwich Tern (Thalasseus Cantiacus) form an object of profitable adventure to the crews of numerous small vessels, fitted out in the spring from Kingston and other ports. The Pedro Kays are the grand field whence this harvest is reaped. “These lonely islets,” observes Mr. Hill, “are the resort of thousands and tens of thousands of sea-fowl. As soon as visitors land, myriads of birds are upon the wing in all directions. Some flocks rise, in circling flight, high up into the air; and descending again in the same dense numbers as they rose, settle in more remote places:—others break away hurriedly, and fly in a wide sweep far around, but return again hastily to the rocks they had quitted, reconciled to bear with the disturbance. The turmoil and hubbub of the thousands of birds thus suddenly put upon the wing, overpower, for a moment, the roar of the breakers, and darken the air like the sudden passing of a cloud.

“The constant inhabitants of the rocks are some three species of Gannet, all known as Boobies; some half a dozen species of Tern, among which the Noddy and the Egg-bird are exceedingly numerous; together with the Frigate Pelican, the Tropic-bird, and the Petrel; besides a multitude of Gulls....

“There were four vessels from Jamaica there at this time [April, 1846] gathering eggs; the months of March, April, and May being considered the egg-harvest.

“The Kays are open to all adventurers; but the egg-gathering is regulated by a custom which recognises the first-coming vessel as commanding for the season. The second vessel in seniority is called the Commodore; the first being styled the Admiral. They have a code of laws, to which, in a spirit of honourable compliance, all are expected to shew obedience; and in case of any infraction of the obligations thus voluntarily imposed upon themselves, a jury selected from the several vessels try complaints, and with due formality inflict punishment for offences.

“The only kind of vegetation, excepting a single cocoa-nut, on these desert rocks, is a stunted tree, called by the egg-gatherers saffron-wood. It is extremely resinous, and the leaves are used by them as tea; and I suspect it is the same plant as the tea-shrub of the Bahama islands. Among the branches of these trees, at a very small elevation from the ground, the Noddies build nests, that have become large by a long accumulation of dung and sticks. The nests are resorted to for a succession of years, and are repaired and raised upon, season after season, till they have grown into huge piles, among the branches;—the large masses of interwoven twigs prevailing even more than the green foliage. The Egg-bird and the Sandwich Tern, if they are unable to gather any of the dead foliage of these shrubs, or any dried leaves of sea-weed, as a covering for the cavity in the rock in which they nestle, lay their eggs on the bare sand: just making so much of a depression by scratching the ground as suffices to hollow it for the reception of some three eggs, the addition of the urate of lime from their dung sufficiently cementing the loose particles.”

In a subsequent communication my friend reverts to the same interesting subject. “The nests of the Noddy, which, though so elaborately framed with sticks, are exceedingly shallow, with scarce any hollowing at all, are always embellished with an addition of broken shells, (sea-shells,) generally speckled and spotted like the eggs. Mr. Wilkie examined them, and they were sea-shells. The obvious suggestion for this curious prevalence of a habit, which he found to distinguish every nest, was its deceptiveness; so much similarity existed between the sea-shell and the egg-shell. I find that Audubon records a similar fact with the Noddy Terns of the Florida Kays. These are his words: ‘In a great many instances, the repaired nests formed masses nearly two feet in height, and yet all of them had only a slight hollow for the eggs, broken shells of which were found among the entire, as if they had been purposely placed there.’ Mr. Wilkie was totally unacquainted with this noticed particular in Audubon’s ‘Ornithological Biography.’ Has Audubon misread his note ‘broken shells,’ and by the following words ‘of which,’ made them egg-shells, when they should have been sea-shells? This is at least worth a remark. Mr. Wilkie says he took the pieces of shell out of the nest, and inspected them. Audubon merely says, ‘The bushes rarely were taller than ourselves, so that we could easily see the eggs in the nest.’”

Specimens of the eggs of these three species of Tern, procured at the Kays by George Wilkie, Esq., who kindly furnished the above information to Mr. Hill for the benefit of this work, are now before me. There is scarcely any difference in size, the dimensions being 2 inches by 1³⁄₈: the Noddy’s, however, is of a more conical form. The ground of all is white; that of the Noddy has a few blackish specks thinly scattered over it, and at the larger end some irregular splashes of brown. That of the Sandwich Tern is uniformly speckled with dull reddish-purple; while that of the Egg-bird is marked with the same hue in fewer but larger spots.

To the above Laridæ, Mr. Hill adds Sterna argentea (Bonap.) killed in Kingston Harbour; and Hydrochelidon nigra (Boie) and Xema atricilla (Bonap.) as frequenting the Kays.

Of two other birds he thus gives me indications:—“A curious bird of the family Procellariadæ (the Petrels,) was found in the Rio Grande in Portland after the late storms [in the autumn of 1846.] Hurricanes introduce into these islands new birds, and disperse those peculiar to these islands into other localities.” The other seems to be of the family Alcadæ (the Auks). “In the Blue Mountains, high up towards their summits, is a curious burrowing bird, which they call the Blue-Mountain Duck. It is described as having webbed feet, and a hooked parrot-bill. This description would indicate a species of Alca. It inhabits holes in the cliffs, and is said to burrow to the extent of ten feet. Nothing is known of its habit of feeding. E. M^cGeachy, Esq., Crown Surveyor for the county of Surrey, first informed me of the existence of such birds. He had himself taken them from their burrows. The facts have also been assured to me by other observers.” A specimen of this bird is said to be in the possession of George Atkinson, Esq., of Newcastle-on-Tyne, who, in answer to an application from me, kindly promised me a particular description; but other engagements, probably, have not yet afforded him the necessary leisure.

Fam.—COLYMBIDÆ. (The Divers.)

BLACK-THROATED GREBE.[137]

No living specimen of this bird has fallen under my notice. It is, however, familiar to Mr. Hill, who kindly favoured me with a preserved specimen, and with some of his own notes. It is frequently shot in the Rio Cobre. One which Mr. Hill had alive was put into a barrel half filled with straw, on which was laid a large pan of water; the brevity of its wings precluding the possibility of its getting out. It was reconciled immediately; and fed heartily on raw fish chopped up. It lived in apparent health three weeks, and died at length without manifest illness, or any perceptible cause; though want of exercise or alteration of diet may have contributed to it.

A few further particulars of the habits of this same individual are contained in a recent letter from my friend. “The several specimens of the Black-gorget Grebe that I have had, were brought to me from the sedgy grounds of the River Cobre. Usually the banks of the river are deep; but there are places in which the course of the stream has been changed, leaving, between one channel and the other, open meadows and banks fringed with a bristling growth of cyperaceous and other border herbage. It will be readily perceived, that these stretches of blended sward and sedge are the only parts of the river fitted for a bird with fin-toed feet and short wings, to quit the water and seek the shore. It is only there they can rise out of the stream upon the green turf; and there they indulge in slumbers in the sunshine, secluded and secure. I judge this to be their habit, from the pleasure a bird I kept some few weeks alive used to feel in lying on the weeds placed for him by the side of a bowl of water, in which he fed. He would there repose for hour after hour, doubled up like an antelope on the grass, with its head and neck curved,—if I may compare beings so dissimilar,—in the graceful attitude in which I made my drawing, now in the hands of the Zoological Society. The food given to my bird was Guinea-corn. After it had been softened in the water, it ate it readily. The seeds of aquatic plants may be considered, therefore, quite as much as water insects and mollusca, its accustomed food. The eye, which is dark and bright, like a gazelle’s, has a thick orbit of that fleshy character, to which pigeon-fanciers give the name of putty-eye, in their favourite birds.”

WHITE-WINGED GREBE.[138]
Diver.

The ponds of the cattle-pens are the favourite resorts of this little Grebe. I have been most familiar with it at the pond of Mount Edgecumbe, which, though not more than an acre or two in extent, used to be speckled with a good number of these miniature ducks; their little black heads and the tops of their backs alone being visible above the surface. On the slightest alarm, they dive with the quickness of thought; and so vigilant is their eye and so rapid their motion, that, ordinarily, the fowling-piece is discharged at them in vain. It is commonly said of some birds, that they dive at the flash of the pan; but though I always used percussion-locks, I could never succeed in hitting one, until I formed a screen of bushes, behind which I might fire in concealment. I then found no difficulty. Hence, I infer that their quick eye detects and takes alarm at the small but sudden motion of the falling hammer. They remain long, and swim far, under water; coming up where quite unlooked for. Some that I have had an opportunity of observing when swimming a little beneath the surface, shot along with expanded wings, almost with the celerity of a fish. They do not always dive, however, when frightened; sometimes they sink deeper than before, and swim away almost submerged. When not alarmed, they call and answer each other, with a loud clang, like the note of a trumpet.

One of these birds which I had wounded slightly, on being put into a large washing-bowl half filled with water, swam awhile; but repeatedly, when alarmed, by striking vigorously with both feet together, leaped clean over the edge of the basin. When on the floor, it ran a few steps at a time, very well, but grotesquely; the body elevated on the legs almost perpendicularly; but ever and anon, as its first impetus slackened, it fell on its breast, and sometimes rolled over. After a while, however, becoming more calm, it walked more easily, still much raised on the legs; but would suddenly squat down on the belly, and so remain.

Early in August, I found near the edge of Mount Edgecumbe pond a nest of this Grebe—a round heap of pond-weed and rotten leaves, flattened at the top, and slightly hollowed; it was about fifteen inches wide, and six or eight thick. The top was damp, but not wet, and very warm from exposure to the sun’s rays. We drew it on shore, for it was entangled among the branches of a fallen tree, but not attached to them, and presently found on the matted weed, just below the surface in the place where we had dragged it, a large white egg, excessively begrimed with dirt, doubtless from lying on the decaying leaves. On being cleansed, I found it covered with a chalky coat, easily scratched off.

A few weeks after, I again visited this pond. On approaching before sun-rise, (for I had travelled by the brilliant starlight of the tropical heavens,) I saw a Grebe sitting on a new nest, in the same spot as I had found the former one: this nest was composed of similar materials, and contained four eggs. Early in December we found another nest, with the young just peeping from the egg. It is probable, therefore, that several broods are reared in a season.

One of my lads, who has lived close by this pond, affirms that the birds move the nest about to different parts of the pond; and that they use the same till it will no longer hold together, and then construct a new one. He also states that they often fight during the night; and that the conquered ones resort to a smaller pond, where they may be easily captured by hand: for, by chasing them to and fro, the small pond being shallow, they at length become wearied, and will dive no more, but make for the shore, and are caught before they can fly.

The flesh is dark and oily. The gizzards of all that I obtained were filled with a finely comminuted substance, rather dry, of an unctuous appearance, and mingled with short silky filaments. A close examination with a lens failed to determine its nature; but I believe it to have been principally vegetable.

The author, in bringing to a close these notices of “The Birds of Jamaica,” craves the indulgence of his readers to make an observation on the use of such studies. The Christian is taught, whatsoever he does, to do all “to the glory of God;” and as “whoso offereth praise glorifieth” Him, the constant object of our investigations should be the bringing out to view fresh proofs of His unspeakable wisdom, skill, power, forethought, care, and love, in the creation, preservation, and sustentation of His creatures. The gratification of scientific curiosity is worse than idle, if it leads not to this: whatever exactness of knowledge we may acquire, or whatever scientific skilfulness we may attain, is, without this result, “but shaping letters aright without learning to know their signification and value.” “It is God appearing in the creatures, that is the life, and beauty, and use, and excellency of all the creatures;—without Him they are but carcases, deformed, useless, vain, insignificant, and very nothings.”[139]