Chapter XIX: Part 19

Bill black. Iris dark brown. Feet greyish-blue. The general colour of the upper parts is dark bluish-grey, the head darker. Feathers along the middle of the crown forming a rich flame-coloured patch, margined with yellow. Quills brownish-black, as are the coverts, which, together with the secondary quills, are externally margined and tipped with dull white. Tail brownish-black, deeper towards the end, each feather largely tipped with white, of which colour also is part of the outer web of the lateral feathers. Under parts greyish-white, throat and fore-neck pure white, the breast tinged with ash-grey.

Length 8¼ inches, extent of wings 14½; bill along the ridge 7/12, along the gap 1.

Adult Female. Plate LXXIX. Fig. 2.

The female is duller in colouring; the upper parts being lighter and tinged with brown, the under parts more dusky, the orange spot on the head smaller and not so bright, and the white tip of the tail less pure and not so extensive.

THE COTTON-WOOD.

POPULUS CANDICANS, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. iv. p. 806. _Pursh_,
Fl. Amer. vol. ii. p. 618. _Mich._ Arbr. Forest. de l'Amer.
Sept. vol. iii. Pl. 13.—DIŒCIA OCTANDRIA, _Linn._ AMENTACEÆ,
_Juss._

This species of Poplar is distinguished by its broadly cordate, acuminate, unequally and obtusely serrated, venous leaves; hairy petioles, resinous buds, and round twigs. The leaves are dark green above, whitish beneath. The resinous substance with which the buds are covered has an agreeable smell. The bark is smooth, of a greenish tint.

THE PRAIRIE TITLARK.

_ANTHUS PIPIENS._

PLATE LXXX. MALE.

I shot two of these birds whilst traversing one of the extensive prairies of our North-western States. Five of them had been running along the foot-path before me, for some time. I at first looked upon them as of the Common Brown Titlark species (_Anthus Spinoletta_), but as they rose on the wing, the difference of their notes struck me, and, shooting at them, I had the good fortune to kill two, which I discovered, on examination, to be of a new and distinct species, although in the general appearance of their plumage they were very nearly allied to the Brown Titlark. The rest I pursued in vain, and was forced to abandon the chase on account of the approach of night, and the necessity of preparing for rest after a long walk.

The flight of the Prairie Titlark is irregular, and performed by jerks, although greatly protracted, when the bird is pursued or frightened. At short intervals these birds plunged through the air, came towards the ground, and flew close over the prairie, as if about to alight, and again rising, made a large circuit. In this manner they continued all the time I saw them on wing. Whilst on the ground they ran briskly, vibrating their tail, whenever they stopped, and picking up the insects near them.

The notes of the Prairie Titlark are clear and sharp, consisting of a number of _tweets_, the last greatly prolonged. The two individuals which I procured proved to be males. They seemed to be in imperfect plumage, it being then the month of October, and the crescent on their breast not being so distinctly defined at the surface, as it was deeper among the feathers. Of their mode of nestling, and other habits, I can say nothing, as I never happened to meet with another individual of the species.

ANTHUS PIPIENS.

Male. Plate LXXX.

Bill straight, slender, compressed, acuminate; upper mandible carinated at the base, rounded on the sides, the edges inflected towards the tip, which is slightly decimate and notched; lower mandible ascending in its dorsal outline. Nostrils basal, lateral, elliptical, half closed above by a membrane. The general form slender. Feet of ordinary length; tarsus slender, compressed; toes free; claws of the fore toes arched, compressed, acute, of the hind toe very long, subulate-compressed, nearly straight.

Plumage soft, blended. Wings of ordinary length, first, second, and third quills longest, the secondaries notched at the tip. Tail long, emarginate.

Bill dark brown, the under mandible orange at the base. Iris hazel. Feet brownish-black. The general colour of the upper parts is dull olive-brown; a brownish-white line over the eye; auricular coverts blackish. Under parts pale yellowish-grey; an obscure lunule of brownish-black on the fore neck, the lower part of which, and the sides, are streaked with dark brown, and tinged with reddish-brown.

Length 6½ inches, bill along the ridge ½, along the gap ¾; tarsus ⅚, middle toe ¾, hind toe ¾.

PHLOX SUBULATA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. i. p. 842. _Pursh_, Fl.
Amer. vol. i. p. 151.—PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._ POLEMONIA,
_Juss._

Cæspitose, pubescent; leaves linear, pungent, ciliate; corymbs few-flowered; pedicels trifid; divisions of the corolla wedge-shaped, emarginate; teeth of the calyx subulate, scarcely shorter than the tube of the corolla. The flowers are pink, with a purple star in the centre. It grows in rocky places, and on barren, gravelly ground, flowering through the summer.

THE ORIGINAL PAINTER.

As I was lounging one fair and very warm morning on the _Levee_ at New Orleans, I chanced to observe a gentleman, whose dress and other accompaniments greatly attracted my attention. I wheeled about, and followed him for a short space, when, judging by every thing about him that he was a true original, I accosted him.

But here, kind reader, let me give you some idea of his exterior. His head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in 1830; his neck was exposed to the weather; the broad frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flapped about his breast, whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over the top of his coat. The latter was of a light green colour, harmonizing well with a pair of flowing yellow nankeen trowsers, and a pink waistcoat, from the bosom of which, amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the Magnolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of some retired swamp, than to spend its life swinging to and fro among folds of the finest lawn. The gentleman held in one hand a cage full of richly-plumed Nonpareils, whilst in the other he sported a silk umbrella, on which I could plainly read "_Stolen from I_," these words being painted in large white characters. He walked as if conscious of his own importance, that is, with a good deal of pomposity, singing "My love is but a lassie yet," and that with such thorough imitation of the Scotch emphasis, that had not his physiognomy brought to my mind a denial of his being from "within a mile of Edinburgh," I should have put him down in my journal for a true Scot. But no:—his tournure, nay, the very shape of his visage, pronounced him an American, from the farthest parts of our eastern Atlantic shores.

All this raised my curiosity to such a height, that I accosted him with "Pray, Sir, will you allow me to examine the birds you have in that cage?" The gentleman stopped, straightened his body, almost closed his left eye, then spread his legs apart, and, with a look altogether quizzical, answered, "Birds, Sir, did you say birds?" I nodded, and he continued, "What the devil do you know about birds, Sir?"

Reader, this answer brought a blush into my face. I felt as if caught in a trap, for I was struck by the force of the gentleman's question; which, by the way, was not much in discordance with a not unusual mode of granting an answer in the United States. Sure enough, thought I, little or perhaps nothing do I know of the nature of those beautiful denizens of the air; but the next moment vanity gave me a pinch, and urged me to conceive that I knew at least as much about birds as the august personage in my presence. "Sir," replied I, "I am a student of nature, and admire her works, from the noblest figure of man to the crawling reptile which you have in your bosom." "Ah!" replied he, "a-a-a naturalist, I presume." "Just so, my good Sir," was my answer. The gentleman gave me the cage; and I observed from the corner of one of my eyes, that his were cunningly inspecting my face. I examined the pretty finches as long as I wished, returned the cage, made a low bow, and was about to proceed on my walk, when this odd sort of being asked me a question quite accordant with my desire of knowing more of him: "Will you come with me, Sir? If you will, you shall see some more curious birds, some of which are from different parts of the world. I keep quite a collection." I assured him I should feel gratified, and accompanied him to his lodgings.

We entered a long room, where, to my surprise, the first objects that attracted my attention were a large easel, with a full length unfinished portrait upon it, a table with pallets and pencils, and a number of pictures of various sizes placed along the walls. Several cages containing birds were hung near the windows, and two young gentlemen were busily engaged in copying some finished portraits. I was delighted with all I saw. Each picture spoke for itself: the drawing, the colouring, the handling, the composition, and the keeping—all proved, that, whoever was the artist, he certainly was possessed of superior talents.

I did not know if my companion was the painter of the picture, but, as we say in America, I strongly guessed, and without waiting any longer, paid him the compliments which I thought he fairly deserved. "Aye," said he, "the world is pleased with my work, I wish I were so too, but time and industry are required as well as talents, to make a good artist. If you will examine the birds, I'll to my labour." So saying, the artist took up his pallet, and was searching for a rest-stick, but not finding the one with which he usually supported his hand, he drew the rod of a gun, and was about to sit, when he suddenly threw down his implements on the table, and, taking the gun, walked to me, and asked if "I had ever seen a percussion-lock." I had not, for that improvement was not yet in vogue. He not only explained the superiority of the lock in question, but undertook to prove that it was capable of acting effectually under water. The bell was rung, a flat basin of water was produced, the gun was charged with powder, and the lock fairly immersed. The report terrified the birds, causing them to beat against the gilded walls of their prisons. I remarked this to the artist. He replied, "The devil take the birds!—more of them in the market; why, Sir, I wish to shew you that I am a marksman as well as a painter." The easel was cleared of the large picture, rolled to the further end of the room, and placed against the wall. The gun was loaded in a trice, and the painter, counting ten steps from the easel, and taking aim at the supporting-pin on the left, fired. The bullet struck the head of the wooden pin fairly, and sent the splinters in all directions. "A bad shot, sir," said this extraordinary person, "the ball ought to have driven the pin farther into the hole, but it struck on one side; I'll try at the hole itself." After reloading his piece, the artist took aim again, and fired. The bullet this time had accomplished its object, for it had passed through the aperture, and hit the wall behind. "Mr ——, ring the bell and close the windows," said the painter, and turning to me, continued, "Sir, I will shew you the _ne plus ultra_ of shooting." I was quite amazed, and yet so delighted, that I bowed my assent. A servant having appeared, a lighted candle was ordered. When it arrived, the artist placed it in a proper position, and retiring some yards, put out the light with a bullet, in the manner which I have elsewhere, in this volume, described. When light was restored, I observed the uneasiness of the poor little alligator, as it strove to effect its escape from the artist's waistcoat. I mentioned this to him. "True, true," he replied, "I had quite forgot the reptile, he shall have a dram;" and unbuttoning his vest, unclasped a small chain and placed the alligator in the basin of water on the table.

Perfectly satisfied with the acquaintance which I had formed with this renowned artist, I wished to withdraw fearing I might inconvenience him by my presence. But my time was not yet come. He bade me sit down, and paying no more attention to the young pupils in the room than if they had been a couple of cabbages, said, "If you have leisure and will stay awhile, I will shew you how I paint, and will relate to you an incident of my life, which will prove to you how sadly situated an artist is at times." In full expectation that more eccentricities were to be witnessed, or that the story would prove a valuable one, even to a naturalist, who is seldom a painter, I seated myself at his side, and observed with interest how adroitly he transferred the colours from his glistening pallet to the canvas before him. I was about to compliment him on his facility of touch, when he spoke as follows:

"This is, sir, or, I ought to say rather, this will be the portrait of one of our best navy officers, a man as brave as CÆSAR, and as good a sailor as ever walked the deck of a seventy-four. Do you paint, Sir?" I replied "Not yet." "Not yet! what do you mean?" "I mean what I say: I intend to paint as soon as I can draw better than I do at present." "Good," said he, "you are quite right, to draw is the first object; but, sir, if you should ever paint, and paint portraits, you will often meet with difficulties. For instance, the brave Commodore, of whom this is the portrait, although an excellent man at every thing else, is the worst sitter I ever saw; and the incident I promised to relate to you, as one curious enough, is connected with his bad mode of sitting. Sir, I forgot to ask if you would take any refreshment—a glass of wine, or ——." I assured him I needed nothing more than his agreeable company, and he proceeded. "Well; Sir, the first morning that the Commodore came to sit, he was in full uniform, and with his sword at his side. After a few moments of conversation, and when all was ready on my part, I bade him ascend this _throne_, place himself in the attitude which I contemplated, and assume an air becoming an officer of the navy. He mounted, placed himself as I had desired, but merely looked at me as if I had been a block of stone. I waited a few minutes when, observing no change on his placid countenance, I ran the chalk over the canvas, to form a rough outline. This done, I looked up to his face again, and opened a conversation which I thought would warm his warlike nature; but in vain. I waited and waited, talked and talked, until my patience—Sir, you must know I am not overburdened with phlegm—being almost run out, I rose, threw my pallet and brushes on the floor, stamped, walking to and fro about the room, and vociferated such calumnies against our navy, that I startled the good Commodore. He still looked at me with a placid countenance, and, as he has told me since, thought I had lost my senses. But I observed him all the while, and, fully as determined to carry my point, as he would be to carry off an enemy's ship, I gave my oaths additional emphasis, addressed him as a representative of the navy, and, steering somewhat clear of personal insult, played off my batteries against the craft. The Commodore walked up to me, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and told me, in a resolute manner, that if I intended to insult the navy, he would instantly cut off my ears. His features exhibited all the spirit and animation of his noble nature, and as I had now succeeded in rousing the lion, I judged it time to retreat. So, changing my tone, I begged his pardon, and told him he now looked precisely as I wished to represent him. He laughed, and returning to his seat, assumed a bold countenance. And now, Sir, see the picture?"

At some future period, I may present you with other instances of the odd ways in which this admired artist gave animation to his sitters. For the present, kind reader, we shall leave him finishing the Commodore, while we return to our proper studies.

THE FISH HAWK, OR OSPREY.

PLATE LXXXI. MALE.

Comparing the great size of this bird, its formidable character, its powerful and protracted flight, and the dexterity with which, although a land bird, it procures its prey from the waters of the ocean, with the very inferior powers of the bird named the Kingsfisher, I should be tempted to search for a more appropriate appellation than that of Fish-Hawk, and, were I not a member of a republic, might fancy that of _Imperial Fisher_ more applicable to it.

The habits of this famed bird differ so materially from those of almost all others of its genus, that an accurate description of them cannot fail to be highly interesting to the student of nature.

The Fish Hawk may be looked upon as having more of a social disposition than most other Hawks. Indeed, with the exception of the Swallow-tailed Hawk (_Falco furcatus_), I know none so gregarious in its habits. It migrates in numbers, both during spring, when it shews itself along our Atlantic shores, lakes, and rivers, and during autumn, when it retires to warmer climes. At these seasons, it appears in flocks of eight or ten individuals, following the windings of our shores in loose bodies, advancing in easy sailings or flappings, crossing each other in their gyrations. During the period of their stay in the United States, many pairs are seen nestling, rearing their young, and seeking their food, within so short a distance of each other, that while following the margins of our eastern shores, a Fish Hawk or a nest belonging to the species, may be met with at every short interval.

The Fish Hawk may be said to be of a mild disposition. Not only do these birds live in perfect harmony together, but they even allow other birds of very different character to approach so near to them as to build their nests of the very materials of which the outer parts of their own are constructed. I have never observed a Fish Hawk chasing any other bird whatever. So pacific and timorous is it, that, rather than encounter a foe but little more powerful than itself, it abandons its prey to the White-headed Eagle, which, next to man, is its greatest enemy. It never forces its young from the nest, as some other Hawks do, but, on the contrary, is seen to feed them even when they have begun to procure food for themselves.

Notwithstanding all these facts, a most erroneous idea prevails among our fishermen, and the farmers along our coasts, that the Fish Hawk's nest is the best _scare-crow_ they can have in the vicinity of their houses or grounds. As these good people affirm, no Hawk will attempt to commit depredations on their poultry, so long as the Fish Hawk remains in the country. But the absence of most birds of prey from those parts at the time when the Fish Hawk is on our coast, arises simply from the necessity of retiring to the more sequestered parts of the interior for the purpose of rearing their young in security, and the circumstance of their visiting the coasts chiefly at the period when myriads of water-fowl resort to our estuaries at the approach of winter, leaving the shores and salt-marshes at the return of spring, when the Fish Hawk arrives. However, as this notion has a tendency to protect the latter bird, it may be so far useful, the fisherman always interposing when he sees a person bent upon the destruction of his favourite bird.

The Fish Hawk differs from all birds of prey in another important particular, which is, that it never attempts to secure its prey in the air, although its rapidity of flight might induce an observer to suppose it perfectly able to do so. I have spent weeks on the Gulf of Mexico, where these birds are numerous, and have observed them sailing and plunging into the water, at a time when numerous shoals of flying-fish were emerging from the sea to evade the pursuit of the dolphins. Yet the Fish Hawk never attempted to pursue any of them while above the surface, but would plunge after one of them or a bonita-fish, after they had resumed their usual mode of swimming near the surface.

The motions of the Fish Hawk in the air are graceful, and as majestic as those of the Eagle. It rises with ease to a great height by extensive circlings, performed apparently by mere inclinations of the wings and tail. It dives at times to some distance with the wings partially closed, and resumes its sailing, as if these plunges were made for amusement only. Its wings are extended at right angles to the body, and when thus flying it is easily distinguishable from all other Hawks by the eye of an observer accustomed to note the flight of birds. Whilst in search of food, it flies with easy flappings at a moderate height above the water, and with an apparent listlessness, although in reality it is keenly observing the objects beneath. No sooner does it spy a fish suited to its taste, than it checks its course with a sudden shake of its wings and tail, which gives it the appearance of being poised in the air for a moment, after which it plunges headlong with great rapidity into the water, to secure its prey, or continue its flight, if disappointed by having observed the fish sink deeper.

When it plunges into the water in pursuit of a fish, it sometimes proceeds deep enough to disappear for an instant. The surge caused by its descent is so great as to make the spot around it present the appearance of a mass of foam. On rising with its prey, it is seen holding it in the manner represented in the Plate. It mounts a few yards into the air, shakes the water from its plumage, squeezes the fish with its talons, and immediately proceeds towards its nest, to feed its young, or to a tree, to devour the fruit of its industry in peace. When it has satisfied its hunger, it does not, like other Hawks, stay perched until hunger again urges it forth, but usually sails about at a great height over the neighbouring waters.

The Fish Hawk has a great attachment to the tree to which it carries its prey, and will not abandon it, unless frequently disturbed, or shot at whilst feeding there. It shews the same attachment to the tree on which it has built its first nest, and returns to it year after year.

This species arrives on the southern coasts of the United States early in the month of February, and proceeds eastward as the season advances. In the Middle Districts, the fishermen hail its appearance with joy, as it is the harbinger of various species of fish which resort to the Atlantic coasts, or ascend the numerous rivers. It arrives in the Middle States about the beginning of April, and returns southward at the first appearance of frost. I have occasionally seen a few of these birds on the muddy lakes of Louisiana, in the neighbourhood of New Orleans, during the winter months; but they appeared emaciated, and were probably unable to follow their natural inclinations, and proceed farther south.

As soon as the females make their appearance, which happens eight or ten days after the arrival of the males, the love-season commences, and soon after, incubation takes place. The loves of these birds are conducted in a different way from those of the other Falcons. The males are seen playing through the air amongst themselves, chasing each other in sport, or sailing by the side or after the female which they have selected, uttering cries of joy and exultation, alighting on the branches of the tree on which their last year's nest is yet seen remaining, and doubtless congratulating each other on finding their home again. Their caresses are mutual. They begin to augment their habitation, or to repair the injuries which it may have sustained during the winter, and are seen sailing together towards the shores, to collect the drifted sea-weeds with which they line the nest anew. They alight on the beach, search for the driest and largest weeds, collect a mass of them, clench them in their talons, and fly towards their nest with the materials dangling beneath. They both alight and labour together. In a fortnight the nest is complete, and the female deposits her eggs, which are three or four in number, of a broadly oval form, yellowish-white, densely covered with large irregular spots of reddish-brown.

The nest is generally placed in a large tree in the immediate vicinity of the water, whether along the seashore, on the margins of the inland lakes, or by some large river. It is, however, sometimes to be seen in the interior of a wood, a mile or more from the water. I have concluded that, in the latter case, it was on account of frequent disturbance, or attempts at destruction, that the birds had removed from their usual haunt. The nest is very large, sometimes measuring fully four feet across, and is composed of a quantity of materials sufficient to render its depth equal to its diameter. Large sticks, mixed with sea-weeds, tufts of strong grass, and other materials, form its exterior, while the interior is composed of sea-weeds and finer grasses. I have not observed that any particular species of tree is preferred by the Fish Hawk. It places its nest in the forks of an oak or a pine with equal pleasure. But I have observed that the tree chosen is usually of considerable size, and not unfrequently a decayed one. I dare not, however, affirm that the juices of the plants which compose the nest, ever become so detrimental to the growth of a tree as ultimately to kill it. In a few instances, I have seen the Fish Crow and the Purple Grakle raising their families in nests built by them among the outer sticks of the Fish Hawk's nest.

The male assists in incubation, during the continuance of which the one bird supplies the other with food, although each in turn goes in quest of some for itself. At such times the male bird is now and then observed rising to an immense height in the air, over the spot where his mate is seated. This he does by ascending almost in a direct line, by means of continued flappings, meeting the breeze with his white breast, and occasionally uttering a cackling kind of note, by which the bystander is enabled to follow him in his progress. When the Fish Hawk has attained its utmost elevation, which is sometimes such that the eye can no longer perceive him, he utters a loud shriek, and dives smoothly on half-extended wings towards his nest. But before he readies it, he is seen to expand his wings and tail, and in this manner he glides towards his beloved female, in a beautifully curved line. The female partially raises herself from her eggs, emits a low cry, resumes her former posture, and her delighted partner flies off to the sea, to seek a favourite fish for her whom he loves.

The young are at length hatched. The parents become more and more attached to them, as they grow up. Abundance of food is procured to favour their development. So truly parental becomes the attachment of the old birds, that an attempt to rob them of those dear fruits of their love, generally proves more dangerous than profitable. Should it be made, the old birds defend their brood with great courage and perseverance, and even sometimes, with extended claws and bill, come in contact with the assailant, who is glad to make his escape with a sound skin.

The young are fed until fully fledged, and often after they have left the nest, which they do apparently with great reluctance. I have seen some as large as the parents, filling the nest, and easily distinguished by the white margins of their upper plumage, which may be seen with a good glass at a considerable distance. So much fish is at times carried to the nest, that a quantity of it falls to the ground, and is left there to putrify around the foot of the tree. Only one brood is raised each season.

The Fish Hawk seldom alights on the ground, and when it does so, walks with difficulty, and in an extremely awkward manner. The only occasions on which it is necessary for them to alight, are when they collect materials for the purpose of repairing their nest at the approach of autumn, or for building a new one, or repairing the old, in spring.

I have found this bird in various parts of the interior of the United States, but always in the immediate neighbourhood of rivers or lakes. When I first removed to Louisville in Kentucky, several pairs were in the habit of raising their brood annually on a piece of ground immediately opposite the foot of the Falls of the Ohio in the State of Indiana. The ground belonged to the venerable General CLARK, and I was several times invited by him to visit the spot. Increasing population, however, has driven off the birds, and few are now seen on the Ohio, unless during their migrations to and from Lake Erie, where I have met with them.

I have observed many of these birds at the approach of winter, sailing over the lakes near the Mississippi, where they feed on the fish which the Wood Ibis kills, the Hawks themselves being unable to discover them whilst alive in the muddy water with which these lakes are filled. There the Ibises wade among the water in immense flocks, and so trample the bottom as to convert the lakes into filthy puddles, in which the fishes are unable to respire with ease. They rise to the surface, and are instantly killed by the Ibises. The whole surface is sometimes covered in this manner with dead fish, so that not only are the Ibises plentifully supplied, but Vultures, Eagles and Fish Hawks, come to participate in the spoil. Except in such places, and on such occasions, I have not observed the Fish Hawk to eat of any other prey than that which it had procured by plunging headlong into the water after it.

I have frequently heard it asserted that the Fish Hawk is sometimes drawn under the water and drowned, when it has attempted to seize a fish which is too strong for it, and that some of these birds have been found sticking by their talons to the back of Sturgeons and other large fishes. But, as nothing of this kind ever came under my observation, I am unable to corroborate these reports. The roosting place of this bird is generally on the top-branches of the tree on which its nest is placed, or of one close to it.

Fish Hawks are very plentiful on the coast of New Jersey, near Great Egg Harbour, where I have seen upwards of fifty of their nests in the course of a day's walk, and where I have shot several in the course of a morning. When wounded, they defend themselves in the manner usually exhibited by Hawks, erecting the feathers of the head, and trying to strike with their powerful talons and bill, whilst they remain prostrate on their back.

The largest fish which I have seen this bird take out of the water, was a Weak Fish, such as is represented in the plate, but sufficiently large to weigh more than five pounds. The bird carried it into the air with difficulty, and dropped it, on hearing the report of a shot fired at it.

FALCO HALIAËTUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 129.—_Lath._
Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 17. _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds
of the United States, p. 26.

CAROLINA OSPREY, _Lath._ Synops. vol. i. p. 74.

FISH HAWK, FALCO HALIAËTUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. v. p. 13.
Pl. 5. fig. 1.

Adult Male. Plate LXXXI.

Bill short, as broad as deep at the base, the sides convex, dorsal outline straight at the base, curved towards the end; upper mandible cerate, the edges acute, with a festoon at the curvature, the tip trigonal, deflected, very acute; lower mandible inflected at the edges, which are slightly arched, the tip obtusely truncate, the dorsal line slightly concave at the base, convex towards the end. Nostrils oval, oblique, lateral, in the fore part of the cere. Head rather large. Body robust. Legs rather long; tarsus short, remarkably thick, covered all round with hexagonal scales; toes also remarkably thick, the outer versatile, covered anteriorly with broad, laterally with small hexagonal scales; claws curved, roundish, very acute.

Plumage compact, imbricated; feathers of the head and neck narrow, of the back broad and rounded, of the breast also rounded. Tibial feathers short, tarsus feathered anteriorly one-third down. Wings very long, acute, the third quill longest, the second and fourth equal, the first not much shorter. Tail rather long, of twelve broad, rounded feathers.

Bill brownish-black, blue at the base and margin; cere light-blue. Iris yellow. Feet pale greyish-blue, tinged with brown; claws black. The general colour of the upper parts is dusky brown, the tail barred with pale brown. The upper part of the head and neck white, the middle part of the crown dark brown. A broad band of the latter colour from the bill down the side of the neck on each side. Under parts of the neck brownish white, streaked with dark brown. Under parts generally white. Anterior tarsal feathers tinged with brown.

Length 23 inches, extent of wings 54; bill along the back 2; tarsus 2¼, middle toe 3.

THE WEAK FISH.

The Weak Fish makes its appearance along our eastern shores about the middle of April, and remains until autumn. It is caught in the seine, and sold in our markets, being a delicate well-flavoured fish. It seldom attains any remarkable size. It is particularly plentiful about Great Egg Harbour, in New Jersey.

WHIP-POOR-WILL.

_CAPRIMULGUS VOCIFERUS_, WILS.

PLATE LXXXII. MALE AND FEMALE.

This bird makes its appearance in most parts of our Western and Southern Districts, at the approach of spring, but is never heard, and indeed scarcely ever seen, in the State of Louisiana. The more barren and mountainous parts of the Union seem to suit it best. Accordingly, the open Barrens of Kentucky, and the country through which the Alleghany ridges pass, are more abundantly supplied with it than any other regions. Yet, wherever a small tract of country, thinly covered with timber, occurs in the Middle Districts, there the _Whip-poor-will_ is heard during the spring and early autumn.

This species of Night-jar, like its relative the Chuck-will's-widow, is seldom seen during the day, unless when accidentally discovered in a state of repose, when, if startled, it rises and flies off, but only to such a distance as it considers necessary, in order to secure it from the farther intrusion of the disturber of its noon-day slumbers. Its flight is very low, light, swift, noiseless, and protracted, as the bird moves over the places which it inhabits, in pursuit of the moths, beetles and other insects, of which its food is composed. During the day, it sleeps on the ground, the lowest branches of small trees and bushes, or the fallen trunks of trees so abundantly dispersed through the woods. In such situations, you may approach within a few feet of it; and, should you observe it whilst asleep, and not make any noise sufficient to alarm it, it will suffer you to pass quite near it, without taking flight, as it seems to sleep with great soundness, especially about the middle of the day. In rainy or very cloudy weather, it sleeps less, and is more on the alert. Its eyes are then kept open for hours at a time, and it flies off as soon as it discovers an enemy approaching, which it can do, at such times, at a distance of twenty or thirty yards. It always appears with its body parallel to the direction of the branch or trunk on which it sits, and, I believe, never alights _across_ a branch or a fence-rail.

No sooner has the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, than this bird bestirs itself, and sets out in pursuit of insects. It passes low over the bushes, moves to the right or left, alights on the ground to secure its prey, passes repeatedly and in different directions over the same field, skims along the skirts of the woods, and settles occasionally on the tops of the fence-stakes or on stumps of trees, from whence it sallies, like a Fly-catcher, after insects, and, on seizing them, returns to the same spot. When thus situated, it frequently alights on the ground, to pick up a beetle. Like the Chuck-will's-widow, it also balances itself in the air, in front of the trunks of trees, or against the sides of banks, to discover ants, and other small insects that may be lurking there. Its flight is so light and noiseless, that whilst it is passing within a few feet of a person, the motion of its wings is not heard by him, and merely produces a gentle undulation in the air. During all this time, it utters a low murmuring sound, by which alone it can be discovered in the dark, when passing within a few yards of one, and which I have often heard when walking or riding through the barrens at night.

Immediately after the arrival of these birds, their notes are heard in the dusk and through the evening, in every part of the thickets, and along the skirts of the woods. They are clear and loud, and to me are more interesting than those of the Nightingale. This taste I have probably acquired, by listening to the Whip-poor-will in parts where Nature exhibited all her lone grandeur, and where no discordant din interrupted the repose of all around. Only think, kind reader, how grateful to me must have been the cheering voice of this my only companion, when, fatigued and hungry, after a day of unremitted toil, I have planted my camp in the wilderness, as the darkness of night put a stop to my labours! I have often listened to the Nightingale, but never under such circumstances, and therefore its sweetest notes have never awaked the same feeling.

The Whip-poor-will continues its lively song for several hours after sunset, and then remains silent until the first dawn of day, when its notes echo through every vale, and along the declivities of the mountains, until the beams of the rising sun scatter the darkness that overhung the face of nature. Hundreds are often heard at the same time in different parts of the woods, each trying to out-do the others; and when you are told that the notes of this bird may be heard at the distance of several hundred yards, you may form an idea of the pleasure which every lover of nature must feel during the time when this chorus is continued.

Description is incapable of conveying to your mind any accurate idea of the notes of this bird, much less of the feelings which they excite. Were I to tell you that they are, in fact, not strictly musical, you might be disappointed. The cry consists of three distinct notes, the first and last of which are emphatical and sonorous, the intermediate one less so. These three notes are preceded by a low cluck, which seems preparatory to the others, and which is only heard when one is near the bird. A fancied resemblance which its notes have to the syllables _whip-poor-will_, has given rise to the common name of the bird.

This species is easily shot, when the moon is shining, and the night clear, as you may then approach it without much caution. It is, however, difficult to hit it on wing, on account of the zig-zag lines in which it flies, as well as the late hour at which it leaves its resting-place. It is seldom killed, however, being too small to be sought as an article of food, although its flesh is savoury, and it is too harmless to excite dislike.

It deposits its eggs about the middle of May, on the bare ground, or on dry leaves, in the most retired parts of the thickets which it frequents. They are always two in number, of a short elliptical form, much rounded, and nearly equal at both ends, of a greenish-white colour, spotted and blotched with bluish-grey, and light brown. The young burst the shell in fourteen days after the commencement of incubation, and look at first like a mouldy and almost shapeless mass, of a yellowish colour. When first able to fly they are of a brown colour, interspersed with patches of buff, the brown being already beautifully sprinkled with darker dots and zig-zag lines. They attain their full plumage before they depart, with their parents, for the south. I think their southward migration, which is performed by night, must be very rapid, as I have never found any of these birds in Louisiana at that season, whereas they proceed slowly on their return in spring. Both birds sit on the eggs, and feed the young for a long time after they are able to fly, either on wing, in the manner of the Common House Swallow, or while perched on the fences, wood-piles, or houses. The food of the young at first consists of ants, and partially digested beetles and large moths, which the parents disgorge; but at the end of a fortnight the parents present the food whole to the young, which then swallow it with ease.

Much has been said respecting the difference existing between the _Whip-poor-will_ and the _Night Hawk_ for the purpose of shewing them to be distinct species. On this subject I shall only say, that although I have known both birds from my early youth, I have seldom seen a farmer or even a boy in the United States, who did not know the difference between them.

It is a remarkable fact that even the largest moths on which the Whip-poor-will feeds, are always swallowed tail foremost, and when swallowed, the wings and legs are found closely laid together, and as if partially glued by the saliva or gastric juice of the bird. The act of deglutition must be greatly aided by the long bristly feathers of the upper mandible, as these no doubt force the wings of the insects close together, before they enter the mouth.

I have represented a male and two females, as well as some of the insects on which they feed. The former are placed on a branch of Red Oak, that tree being abundant on the skirts of the Kentucky Barrens, where the Whip-poor-will is most plentiful.

CAPRIMULGUS VOCIFERUS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of
the United States, p. 62.

WHIP-POOR-WILL, CAPRIMULGUS VOCIFERUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
vol. v. p. 71. Pl. 41. fig. 1. Male, fig. 2. Female, fig. 3.
Young.

Adult Male. Plate LXXXII. Fig. 1.

Bill extremely short, feeble, opening to beyond the eyes, making the mouth, when open, of enormous dimensions; upper mandible arched in its dorsal outline, very broad at the base, suddenly contracted at the tip, which is compressed and rather obtuse; lower mandible decurved. Nostrils basal, oval, prominent, covered above by a membrane. Head disproportionately large. Eyes and ears very large. Neck short. Body rather slender. Feet very short; tarsus partly feathered, anteriorly scutellate below; fore toes three, connected to the second joint by membranes, scutellate above; claws depressed, arched, that of the middle toe with the inner edge expanded and pectinate.

Plumage blended, soft and silky, without much gloss. Upper mandible margined at the base with stiff bristles, much longer than the bill, extending forwards and outwards. Wings long, narrow, the second and third quills longest. Tail rather long, ample, even, of ten broad rounded feathers.

Bill dark brown. Iris dark hazel. Feet reddish-purple, the scales and claws blackish. The general colour of the upper parts is dark brownish-grey, streaked and minutely sprinkled with brownish-black. Cheeks brownish-red. The quills and coverts are dark brown, spotted in bars with light brown, the tips of the former mottled with light and dark brown. Four middle tail-feathers like those of the back, the three lateral white in their terminal half, deep brown, spotted with light brown towards the base, the latter colours running along the outer web of the outermost to near the tip. Throat and breast similar to the back, with a transverse band of yellowish-white across the fore-neck; the rest of the under parts paler and mottled.

Length 9 inches, extent of wings 19; bill along the ridge 5/12, along the gap 1-7/12.

Adult Female. Plate LXXXII. Fig. 2, 3.

The female resembles the male in colouring, but the lateral tail-feathers are reddish-white towards the tip only, and the band across the fore-neck is pale yellowish-brown.

BLACK OAK OR QUERCITRON.

QUERCUS TINCTORIA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. iv. p. 414. _Pursh_,
Flor. Amer. vol. ii. p. 629. _Mich._ Abr. Forest. de l'Amer.
Sept. vol. ii. p. 110. Pl. 2.—MONŒCIA POLYANDRIA, _Linn._
AMENTACEÆ, _Juss._

Leaves obovato-oblong, sinuate, pubescent beneath, their lobes acuminate, obsoletely denticulate; the cup scutellato-turbinate; the acorn globular depressed. This is one of the largest trees of the United States, and attains a height from eighty to ninety feet, with a diameter of from four to five. The bark is deeply cracked, and of a black colour. The wood is reddish, coarse-grained, and not so much esteemed as that of the White Oak, and some other species. The bark is used for tanning, as well as for dyeing wool of a yellow colour. It is generally distributed, especially in the mountainous parts.

THE HOUSE WREN.

_TROGLODYTES ÆDON_, VIEILL.

PLATE LXXXIII. MALE, FEMALE, AND YOUNG.

Although Louisiana is supplied with thousands of the Great Carolina Wren, not a single individual of the present species is ever to be found there. It appears, indeed, that the central districts of our Atlantic coasts are their principal places of resort, probably because certain portions of the country are intended to be occupied by different species of the same genus. Thus, I think it highly probable that the Great Carolina Wren has been intended for the Southern Districts, the House Wren for the Middle States, Bewick's Long-tailed Wren for the regions of the Rocky Mountains, and the Little Wren for our north-eastern territories, along the St Lawrence, although it also breeds in the State of New York, and even in that of Pennsylvania, where I have found it in the Great Pine Swamp. I am induced to think that a fifth species of Wren will yet be found within the limits of the United States. From this arrangement I exclude the bird called the Marsh Wren, which more properly belongs to the genus _Certhia_. But, as I have already said, I leave all these matters to be discussed by the system-makers.

The opinion expressed by a former writer, that the House Wren occurs in the United States, is as incorrect as the assertion of a subsequent author, that the Florida Jay is met with on the Mississippi and Ohio. During a residence of twenty years in the different States through which these great streams pass, I never saw either the one or the other of these birds. These are errors, however, which are to be attributed to the circumstance that one of the writers alluded to never visited the Southern or Western States, while the other merely passed once through them.

From whence the House Wren comes, or to what parts it retires during winter, is more than I have been able to ascertain. Although it is extremely abundant in the States of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Virginia, and Maryland, from the middle of April until the beginning of October, I have never been able to trace its motions, nor do I know of any naturalist in our own country, or indeed in any other, who has been more fortunate.

Its flight is short, generally low, and performed by a constant tremor of the wings, without any jerks of either the body or tail, although the latter is generally seen erect, unless when the bird is singing, when it is always depressed. When passing from one place to another, during the love-season, or whilst its mate is sitting, this sweet little bird flutters still more slowly through the air, singing all the while. It is sprightly, active, vigilant, and courageous. It delights in being near and about the gardens, orchards, and the habitations of man, and is frequently found in abundance in the very centre of our eastern cities, where many little boxes are put up against the walls of houses, or the trunks of trees, for its accommodation, as is also done in the country. In these it nestles and rears its young. It is seldom, however, at a loss for a breeding place, it being satisfied with any crevice or hole in the walls, the sill of a window, the eaves, the stable, the barn, or the upper side of a piece of timber, under the roof of a piazza. Now and then, its nest may be seen in the hollow branch of an apple tree. I knew of one in the pocket of an old broken-down carriage, and many in such an old hat as you see represented in the plate, which, if not already before you, I hope you will procure, and look at the little creatures anxiously peeping out or hanging to the side of the hat, to meet their mother, which has just arrived with a spider, whilst the male is on the lookout, ready to interpose should any intruder come near. The same nest is often resorted to for several successive years, merely receiving a little mending.

The familiarity of the House Wren is extremely pleasing. In Pennsylvania a pair of these birds had formed a nest, and the female was sitting in a hole of the wall, within a few inches of my (literally so-called) drawing-room. The male was continually singing within a few feet of my wife and myself, whilst I was engaged in portraying birds of other species. When the window was open, its company was extremely agreeable, as was its little song, which continually reminded us of its happy life. It would now and then dive into the garden at the foot of the window, procure food for its mate, return and creep into the hole where it had its nest, and be off again in a moment. Having procured some flies and spiders, I now and then threw some of them towards him, when he would seize them with great alacrity, eat some himself, and carry the rest to his mate. In this manner, it became daily more acquainted with us, entered the room, and once or twice sang whilst there. One morning I took it in to draw its portrait, and suddenly closing the window, easily caught it, held it in my hand, and finished its likeness, after which I restored it to liberty. This, however, made it more cautious, and it never again ventured within the window, although it sang and looked at us as at first. It is it which you see placed on the hat.

The antipathy which the House Wren shews to cats is extreme. Although it does not attack puss, it follows and scolds her until she is out of sight. In the same manner, it makes war on the Martin, the Blue Bird and the House Swallow, the nest of any of which it does not scruple to appropriate to itself, whenever occasion offers. Its own nest is formed of dry crooked twigs, so interwoven as scarcely to admit entrance to any other bird. Within this outer frame-work grasses are arranged in a circular manner, and the whole is warmly lined with feathers and other equally soft materials. The eggs are five or six, of a regularly oval form, and uniform pale reddish colour. Two broods are raised in the season.