Chapter XI: Part 11

BLACKBURNIAN WARBLER, SYLVIA BLACKBURNIÆ, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
vol. iii. p. 67. pl. 28. fig. 3.—_Nuttall_, Manual, part i.
p. 379.

Adult Male. Plate CXXXV.

Bill short, straight, subulato-conical, acute, rather broader than deep at the base, the edges sharp. Nostrils basal, lateral, elliptical, half-closed by a membrane. General form slender. Feet of ordinary length; tarsus slender, compressed, anteriorly scutellate, sharp behind; toes free, scutellate above, the hind toe of moderate size; claws arched, slender, compressed, acute.

Plumage soft, blended, slightly glossed. Wings longish, the first quill longest, the two next scarcely shorter, and almost equal. Tail of moderate length, slightly emarginate.

Bill and legs umber-brown, the former bluish at the base below. Iris hazel. The general colour of the upper parts is black, with streaks of white on the back. A small patch of orange on the top of the head, a band of the same colour from the base of the mandible over the eye, passing down the neck and curving forwards; a similar short band under the eye; lore, and a patch behind the eye, black. Quills margined with white, and a large patch of the same on the wing, including the inner secondary coverts, and the ends of the outer, with those of the first row of smaller coverts. The three outer tail-feathers on each side white at the base, and along the inner web. Throat and breast of a rich reddish-orange, the hind part of the breast and belly dull yellow, fading backwards; the sides of the breast marked with black streaks and spots.

Length 4¾ inches, extent of wings 7¾; bill along the ridge 4/12, along the edge ½; tarsus 8½/12.

The Female resembles the male in colouring, but the bright orange of the head and breast is replaced by yellow.

PHLOX MACULATA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. i. p. 840. _Pursh_,
Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 149.—PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._
POLEMONIA, JUSS.

Erect; the stem rough, with purplish dots; the leaves oblongo-lanceolate, smooth, with the margin rough; the flowers in an oblong crowded panicle, of a purplish-red tint, the segments of the corolla rounded; the calycine teeth acute and recurved. It grows abundantly in wet meadows, from New England to Carolina. The flowers, although pleasing to the eye, have no scent.

A BALL IN NEWFOUNDLAND.

On our return from the singularly wild and interesting country of Labrador, the "Ripley" sailed close along the northern coast of Newfoundland. The weather was mild and clear; and, while my young companions amused themselves on the deck with the music of various instruments, I gazed on the romantic scenery spread along the bold and often magnificent shores. Portions of the wilds appeared covered with a luxuriance of vegetable growth far surpassing that of the regions which we had just left, and in some of the valleys I thought I saw trees of moderate size. The number of habitations increased apace, and many small vessels and boats danced on the waves of the coves which we passed. Here a precipitous shore looked like the section of a great mountain, of which the lost half had sunk into the depths of the sea, and the dashing of the waters along its base was such as to alarm the most daring seaman. The huge masses of broken rock impressed my mind with awe and reverence, as I thought of the power that still gave support to the gigantic fragments which every where hung, as if by magic, over the sea, awaiting, as it were, the proper moment to fall upon and crush the impious crew of some piratical vessel. There again, gently swelling hills reared their heads towards the sky, as if desirous of existing within the influence of its azure purity; and I thought the bleatings of rein-deer came on my ear. Dark clouds of Curlews were seen winging their way towards the south, and thousands of Larks and Warblers were flitting through the air. The sight of these birds excited in me a wish that I also had wings to fly back to my country and friends.

Early one morning our vessel doubled the northern cape of the Bay of St George; and, as the wind was light, the sight of that magnificent expanse of water, which extends inward to the length of eighteen leagues, with a breadth of thirteen, gladdened the hearts of all on board. A long range of bold shores bordered it on one side, throwing a deep shadow over the water, which added greatly to the beauty of the scene. On the other side, the mild beams of the autumnal sun glittered on the water, and whitened the sails of the little barks that were sailing to and fro, like so many silvery gulls. The welcome sight of cattle feeding in cultivated meadows, and of people at their avocations, consoled us for the labours which we had undergone, and the privations which we had suffered; and, as the Ripley steered her course into a snug harbour that suddenly opened to our view, the number of vessels that were anchored there, and a pretty village that presented itself, increased our delight.

Although the sun was fast approaching the western horizon when our anchor was dropped, no sooner were the sails furled than we all went ashore. There appeared a kind of curious bustle among the people, as if they were anxious to know who we were, for our appearance, and that of our warlike looking schooner, shewed that we were not fishermen. As we bore our usual arms and hunting accoutrements, which were half Indian and half civilized, the individuals we met on the shore manifested considerable suspicion, which our captain observing, instantly made a signal, when the star-spangled banner glided to the mast-head, and saluted the flags of France and Britain in kindly greeting. We were welcomed and supplied with abundance of fresh provisions. Glad at once more standing on something like soil, we passed through the village, and walked round it, but as night was falling, were quickly obliged to return to our floating home, where, after a hearty supper, we serenaded with repeated glees the peaceful inhabitants of the village.

At early dawn I was on deck, admiring the scene of industry that presented itself. The harbour was already covered with fishing-boats, employed in procuring mackerel, some of which we appropriated to ourselves. Signs of cultivation were observed on the slopes of the hills, the trees seemed of goodly size, a river made its way between two ranges of steep rocks, and here and there a group of Mickmack Indians were searching along the shores for lobsters, crabs, and eels, all of which we found abundant and delicious. A canoe laden with rein-deer meat came alongside, paddled by a pair of athletic Indians, who exchanged their cargo for some of our stores. You would have been amused to see the manner in which these men, and their families on shore, cooked the lobsters: they threw them alive into a great wood-fire; and, as soon as they were broiled, devoured them while yet so hot that any of us could not have touched them. When properly cooled, I tasted these roasted lobsters, and found them infinitely better flavoured than boiled ones. The country was represented as abounding in game. The temperature was higher, by twenty degrees, than that of Labrador, and yet I was told that the ice of the bay seldom broke up before the middle of May, and that few vessels attempted to go to Labrador before the 10th of June, when the cod-fishery at once commences.

One afternoon we were visited by a deputation from the inhabitants of the village, inviting our whole party to a ball which was to take place that night, and requesting us to take with us our musical instruments. We unanimously accepted the invitation, which had been made from friendly feelings; and finding that the deputies had a relish for "old Jamaica," we helped them pretty freely to some, which soon shewed that it had lost nothing of its energies by having visited Labrador. At ten o'clock, the appointed hour, we landed, and were lighted to the dancing hall by paper lanterns, one of us carrying a flute, another a violin, and I with a flageolet stuck into my waistcoat pocket.

The hall proved nothing else than the ground floor of a fisherman's house. We were presented to his wife, who, like her neighbours, was an adept in the piscatory art. She curtseyed, not _à la Taglioni_, it is true, but with a modest assurance, which to me was quite as pleasing as the airiness with which the admired performer just mentioned might have paid her respects. The good woman was rather unprepared, and quite _en negligée_, as was the apartment, but full of activity, and anxious to arrange things in becoming style. In one hand she held a bunch of candles, in the other a lighted torch, and distributing the former at proper intervals along the walls, she applied the latter to them in succession. This done, she emptied the contents of a large tin vessel into a number of glasses which were placed in a tea-tray on the only table in the room. The chimney, black and capacious, was embellished with coffee-pots, milk-jugs, cups and saucers, knives and forks, and all the paraphernalia necessary on so important an occasion. A set of primitive wooden stools and benches was placed around, for the reception of the belles of the village, some of whom now dropped in, flourishing in all the rosy fatness produced by an invigorating northern climate, and in decoration vying with the noblest Indian queen of the west. Their stays seemed ready to burst open, and their shoes were equally pressed, so full of sap were the arctic beauties. Around their necks, brilliant beads, mingled with ebony tresses, and their naked arms might have inspired apprehension had they not been constantly employed in arranging flowing ribbons, gaudy flowers, and muslin flounces.

Now arrived one of the beaux, just returned from the fishing, who, knowing all, and being equally known, leaped without ceremony on the loose boards that formed a kind of loft overhead, where he soon exchanged his dripping apparel for a dress suited to the occasion, when he dropped upon the floor, and strutting up and down, bowed and scraped to the ladies, with as much ease, if not elegance, as a Bond Street highly-scented exquisite. Others came in by degrees, ready dressed, and music was called for. My son, by way of overture, played "Hail Columbia, happy land," then went on with "La Marseillaise," and ended with "God save the King." Being merely a spectator, I ensconced myself in a corner, by the side of an old European gentleman, whom I found an agreeable and well-informed companion, to admire the decorum of the motley assemblage.

The dancers stood in array, little time having been spent in choosing partners, and a Canadian accompanying my son on his Cremona, mirth and joy soon abounded. Dancing is certainly one of the most healthful and innocent amusements. I have loved it a vast deal more than watching for the nibble of a trout, and I have sometimes thought enjoying it with an agreeable female softened my nature as much as the pale pure light of the moon softens and beautifies a winter night. A maiden lady, who sat at my side, and who was the only daughter of my talkative companion, relished my remarks on the subject so much, that the next set saw her gracing the floor with her tutored feet.

At each pause of the musicians, refreshments were handed round by the hostess and her son, and I was not a little surprised to see all the ladies, maids and matrons, swallow, like their sweethearts and husbands, a full glass of pure rum, with evident pleasure. I should perhaps have recollected that, in cold climates, a dose of ardent spirits is not productive of the same effects as in burning latitudes, and that refinement had not yet induced these healthy and robust dames to affect a delicacy foreign to their nature.

It was now late, and knowing how much I had to accomplish next day, I left the party and proceeded towards the shore. My men were sound asleep in the boat, but in a few moments I was on board the Ripley. My young friends arrived towards daylight, but many of the fishermen's sons and daughters kept up the dance, to the music of the Canadian, until after our breakfast was over.

Although all the females whom I had seen at this ball were perfectly free from _mauvaise honte_, we were much surprised when some of them, which we afterwards met in the course of our rambles in the neighbouring meadows and fields, ran off on seeing us, like gazelles before jackalls. One bearing a pail of water on her head, dropped it the moment she saw us, and ran into the woods to hide herself. Another, who was in search of a cow, on observing us going towards her, took to the water and waded through an inlet more than waist-deep, after which she made for home with the speed of a frightened hare. On inquiring the reason of this strange conduct, the only answer I received from several was a deep blush!

THE MEADOW LARK OR AMERICAN STARLING.

_STURNUS LUDOVICIANUS_, LINN.

PLATE CXXXVI. MALE, FEMALE, AND NEST.

How could I give the history of this beautiful bird, were I not to return for a while to the spot where I have found it most abundant, and where the most frequent opportunities occurred of observing it? Then, reader, to those rich grass fields let us stray. We are not far from the sandy sea-shores of the Jerseys; the full beauties of an early spring are profusely spread around us; the glorious sun illumines the creation with a flood of golden light, as he yet lies beneath the deep; the industrious bee is yet asleep, as are the birds in bush and tree; the small wavelets break on the beach with a gentle murmur; the sky is so beautifully blue, that, on seeing it, one fancies himself near heaven; the moon is about to disappear in the distant west; the limpid dew-drops hang on every leaf, bud and blossom, each tall blade of grass bending under the weight. Anxious to view Nature at her best, I lie waiting in pleasure for the next moment:—it has come; all is life and energy; the bee, the bird, the quadruped, all nature awakes into life, and every being seems moving in the light of the Divine countenance. Fervently do I praise the God who has called me into existence, and devotedly do I pursue my avocations, carefully treading on the tender grass, until I reach a seat by nature's own hand prepared, when I pause, survey, admire, and essay to apprehend all—yes, _all_ around me! Delightful days of my youth, when full of strength, health and gladness, I so often enjoyed the bliss of contemplating the beauties of creation! They are gone, never to return; but memory fondly cherishes the thoughts which they called into being, and while life remains will their memory be pleasing.

See the Lark that arrived last evening! fully refreshed, and with a bosom overflowing with love towards her who had led him thus far, he rises from his grassy couch, and on gently whirring pinions launches into the air, in the glad hope of finding the notes of his beloved fall on his ear. Females are usually tardy at this early season. I shall not pretend to tell you why, reader, but that such is the fact, I have been fully convinced, since the very first feelings of their value was impressed on my mind. The male is still on the wing; his notes sound loud and clear as he impatiently surveys the grassy plain beneath him. His beloved is not there. His heart almost fails him, and, disappointed, he rises towards the black walnut-tree, under which, during many a summer's heat, the mowers have enjoyed both their repast and their mid-day rest. I now see him, not desponding as you might suppose, but vexed and irritated. See how he spreads his tail, how often he raises his body, how he ejaculates his surprise, and loudly calls for her whom of all things he best loves.—Ah!—there comes the dear creature; her timorous, tender notes announce her arrival. Her mate, her beloved, has felt the charm of her voice. His wings are spread, and buoyant with gladness, he flies to meet, to welcome her, anticipating all the bliss prepared for him. Would that I could interpret to you, reader, as I feel them, the many assurances of friendship, fidelity and love that at this precious moment pass from the one to the other, as they place their bills together and chatter their mutual loves!—the gentle chidings of the male for the sorrow her delay has caused him, and the sweet words she uses to calm his ardour. Alas! it were vain to attempt it. I have listened to the talk, it is true; I have witnessed all their happiness; but I cannot describe it to you. You, reader, must watch them, as I have done, if you wish to understand their language. If not, I must try to give you a taste of what I would willingly impart, were I competent to the task, and proceed to relate what I have observed of their habits.

When the Meadow Lark first rises from the ground, which it does with a smart spring, it flutters like a young bird, then proceeds checking its speed and resuming it in a desultory and uncertain manner, flying in general straight forward, and glancing behind as if to ascertain the amount of its danger, but yet affording an easy aim to the most inexperienced marksman. When pursued for a while, it moves more swiftly, sailing and beating its wings alternately, until it gets out of reach. It will not stand before the pointer longer than a moment, and that only when surprised among rank weeds or grasses. During its migrations, which are usually performed by day, it rises above the tallest forest trees, passing along in loose bodies, and not unfrequently in flocks of from fifty to a hundred individuals. At such times its motions are continued, and it merely sails at intervals, to enable it to breathe and renew its exertions. Now and then, one may be seen making directly towards another, chasing it downwards or horizontally away from the group, uttering all the time a sharp querulous note, and keeping up the pursuit for a distance of several hundred yards, when it suddenly abandons it. Both birds then rejoin the flock, and the party continue their journey in amity. When flocks thus travelling spy a favourable feeding place, they gradually descend and alight on some detached tree, when, as if by one accord, each individual jerks out its tail, springs on its legs, and utters a loud soft call-note. They then fly successively to the ground, and immediately proceed in search of food. An old male now and then erects itself, glances its eye around with anxious scrutiny, and should danger be perceived, does not fail to inform his party by emitting a loud rolling note, on hearing which the rest of the flock become alert, and hold themselves in readiness to depart.

In this manner the Meadow Larks proceed in autumn from the northern parts of Maine to the State of Louisiana, the Floridas, or Carolinas, where they abound during the winter. At this season the pine barrens of the Floridas are filled with them, and after the land has been fired by the native herdsmen, these birds become as sooty as the sparrows residing in London. Some were so infested with ticks as to have lost almost all the feathers off their body, and in general they appeared much smaller than those of the Atlantic States, probably on account of the deficiency of their plumage. In the prairies of the Opellousas and those bordering on the Arkansas River, they are still more abundant. Many of these, however, retire into the Mexican country at the approach of very severe weather. They now sleep on the ground among the tall grass, but at a distance of many yards from each other, in the manner of the Carolina Dove.

At the approach of spring, the flocks break up, the females first separating. The males then commence their migration, flying in small flocks, or even sometimes singly. At this season the beauty of their plumage is much improved, their movements have acquired more grace, their manner of flight and all their motions when on the ground evidently shewing how strongly they feel the passion that glows in their bosom. The male is seen to walk with stately measured steps, jerking out his tail, or spreading it to its full extent, and then closing it, like a fan in the hands of some fair damsel. Its loud notes are more melodious than ever, and are now frequently heard, the bird sitting the while on the branch of a tree, or the top of some tall weed of the meadows.

Woe to the rival who dares to make his appearance! Nay, should any male come in sight, he is at once attacked, and, if conquered, chased beyond the limits of the territory claimed by the first possessor. Several males may sometimes be seen engaged in fierce conflict, although these frays seldom last more than a few moments. The sight of a single female at once changes their occupation, and after her they all fly off as if mad. The female exhibits the usual timidity of her sex, that timidity without which, even in Meadow Larks, she would probably fail in finding a mate. As he flies towards her, uttering the softest of his notes, she moves off in such a manner that her ardent admirer often seems doubtful whether she means to repel or encourage him. At length, however, he is permitted to go nearer, to express by his song and courteous demeanour the strength and constancy of his passion. She accepts him as her lord, and in a few days both are seen busily searching for an appropriate spot in which to rear their young.

At the foot of some tuft of tall strong grass you find the nest. A cavity is scooped out of the ground, and in it is placed a quantity of grass, fibrous roots, and other materials; circularly disposed so as to resemble an oven, around which leaves and the blades of the surrounding grasses are matted together so as to cover and conceal it. The entrance admits only one at a time, but both birds incubate. The eggs are four or five, pure white, sprinkled and blotched with reddish-brown, mostly towards the larger end. The young are out towards the end of June, and follow their parents for some weeks afterwards. These birds are unremitting in their attention towards each other, and in the care of their offspring, and while the female sits, the male not only supplies her with food, but constantly comforts her by his song and the watchfulness which he displays. Should one approach the nest, he immediately rises on wing, passes and repasses in circles over and around the spot in which the nest is, and thus frequently leads to the hidden treasure.

Excepting hawks and snakes, the Meadow Lark has few enemies at this season. The prudent and enlightened farmer, mindful of the benefit his meadows have received from the destruction of thousands of larvæ, which might have greatly injured his grass, disturbs it not, and should he find its nest while cutting his hay, he leaves the tuft in which it is placed. Even young children seldom destroy this bird or its brood.

It must not, however, be supposed that the Meadow Lark is entirely harmless. In the Carolinas, many well instructed planters agree in denouncing it as a depredator, alleging that it scratches up oat seeds when sown early in spring, and is fond of plucking up the young corn, the wheat, the rye, or the rice.

In confinement, this bird has another fault, of which I was not aware until my last visit to Charleston. In February 1834, Dr SAMUEL WILSON of that city told me that one of the Meadow Larks which he had purchased in the market, with a number of other birds, ten days previously, had been found feeding on the body of a Bay-winged Bunting, which it had either killed, or found dead in the aviary. He said he had watched the bird more than twenty minutes, and plainly saw that it plunged its bill into the flesh of the finch to its eyes, and appeared to open and close it alternately, as if sucking the juices of the flesh. Two days afterwards, the same Meadow Lark actually killed two other finches that had their wings clipped, and ate them.

During the latter part of autumn, as well as in winter, this species affords a good deal of sport, especially to young gunners, some of whom speak highly of its flesh. This may be true respecting the young, but the yellow oily appearance of the flesh of the old ones, its toughness, and the strong smell of insects which it emits, prevent it from being an agreeable article of food. They are nevertheless offered for sale in almost all our markets.

In the winter months, this bird frequently associates with the Carolina Dove, several species of Grakle, and even Partridges, is fond of spending its time in corn fields after the grain has been gathered, and often makes its appearance in the cattle-yard of the planters. In Virginia, it is called the "Old-field Lark."

While on the ground, the Meadow Lark walks well, and much in the manner of the Grakle and the European Starling, to which it is in some measure allied. When on the wing, they seldom fly close enough to allow more than one to be shot at a time. When wounded, they run off with alacrity, and hide with great care, so as to be found with difficulty. They alight with equal readiness on trees, on the branches of which they walk with ease, on fences, and even at times on out-houses. Their food consists of grass seeds, and grains of almost every sort, along with all kinds of insects and berries. Although gregarious, they seldom move close together while on the ground, and, on the report of a gun, you may see perhaps a hundred of them rise on the wing from different parts of a field. They are never found in close woods. During winter, the open western prairies abound with them, and in every corn-field in the State of Kentucky, you are sure to find them in company with partridges and doves. They now and then resort to roads, for the purpose of dusting themselves, and move along the edge of the water in order to bathe.

The plate represents two pairs of these birds, with a nest placed in a rich cluster of the Yellow Gerardia.

STURNUS LUDOVICIANUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 290.
—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 323.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops.
of Birds of the United States, p. 50.

MEADOW LARK, ALAUDA MAGNA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. iii. p. 20.
pl. 19. fig. 2.

AMERICAN STARLING or MEADOW LARK, _Nuttall_, Manual, part i.
p. 147.

STURNELLA LUDOVICIANA, CRESCENT STARELET, _Swains. and
Richards._ Fauna Bor.-Amer. part ii. p. 282.

Adult Male. Plate CXXXVI. Fig. 1. 1.

Bill rather long, almost straight, strong, conico-subulate, depressed towards the end; upper mandible encroaching a little on the forehead, flattish on the ridge, with sharp overlapping edges, the tip rounded; lower mandible nearly straight, the back convex, the sides ascending, the edges sharp, the tip slightly rounded, and a little shorter. Nostrils oval, half-closed by an arched membrane. Head of ordinary size, depressed, neck of moderate length, body rather full. Feet of moderate length, strong; tarsus anteriorly scutellate, sharp behind; lateral toes nearly equal, hind toe stoutest, with a large claw; claws arched, compressed, acute.

Plumage soft, rather compact. The upper eyelid margined with strong bristles. Feathers of the top of the head with strong shafts. Wings of ordinary length, broad, the second, third, and fourth primaries longest, the first longer than the fifth; those mentioned, except the first, sinuate on the outer web; primaries rather pointed, secondaries broad and rounded, two of the inner nearly as long as the primaries when the wing is closed. Tail short, much rounded, of twelve acute feathers.

Bill dark brown above, bluish-grey beneath and on the sides. Iris hazel. Feet flesh-coloured, tinged with blue. The upper parts are variegated with dark brown, bay, and light yellowish-brown, the latter bordering the feathers; those of the hind parts of the back barred, as are the secondary quills and their coverts. Primary quills dark brown, margined the outermost with white, the rest with pale brown. The edge of the wing yellow; the smaller wing-coverts black bordered with grey. The three outer tail-feathers white, with a dash of black on the outer web near the end; the next feather also more or less white, and barred on the outer web. On the upper part of the head are a central and two lateral stripes of brownish-yellow, separated by two broader stripes of brownish-black; the lateral stripes are sometimes white tinged with yellow anteriorly. Sides of the head and neck greyish-white, dotted with dusky, and the flanks and under tail-coverts are spotted with black; abdomen white, the rest of the under parts rich yellow, excepting a large crescent of black on the breast.

Length 11-2/12, extent of wings 16½; bill along the back 1-3/12, along the edge 1-5/12; tarsus 1¾, middle toe 1-4/8.

Adult Female. Plate CXXXVI. Fig 2. 2.

The Female differs little from the male, the colours being scarcely paler, but is smaller.

YELLOW-FLOWERED GERARDIA.

GERARDIA FLAVA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. iii. p. 223. _Pursh_,
Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. ii. p. 423.—DIDYNAMIA ANGIOSPERMIA,
_Linn._ SCROPHULARINÆ, _Juss._

Downy, with the stems nearly undivided, the leaves subsessile, lanceolate, entire or toothed, the lower incised, the flowers axillary, opposite, nearly sessile. I found this plant abundant in the meadows of New Jersey, where it was in full flower at the end of May, the rich yellow blossoms enlivening the uniform aspect of the plains. It is pretty generally distributed along the Atlantic coasts, and attains a height of from two to three feet.

THE YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT.

_ICTERIA VIRIDIS_, BONAP.

PLATE CXXXVII. MALE, FEMALE, AND NEST.

This singular bird is extremely plentiful in Louisiana, Georgia, and the Carolinas, during spring and summer. It arrives in the first of those States as soon as the blossoms of the dog-wood mark the return of the vernal season. Many continue their migrations eastward as far as Connecticut, but beyond this the species is seldom if ever seen. I have found it equally abundant in Kentucky, particularly in the barrens of that State; and it ascends the Ohio, spreading over the country, and extending as far as the borders of Lake Erie in Pennsylvania. It never enters what is properly called the woods, preferring at all periods of its short stay with us, the large tangled and almost impenetrable patches of briars, sumach, prickly ash, and different species of smilax, wherever a rivulet or a pool may be found.

As in other migratory species, the males precede the females several days. As soon as they have arrived, they give free vent to their song at all hours of the day, renewing it at night when the weather is calm, and the moon shines brightly, seeming intent on attracting the females, by repeating in many varied tones the ardency of their passion. Sometimes the sounds are scarcely louder than a whisper, now they acquire strength, deep guttural notes roll in slow succession as if produced by the emotion of surprise, then others clear and sprightly glide after each other, until suddenly, as if the bird had become confused, the voice becomes a hollow bass. The performer all the while looks as if he were in the humour of scolding, and moves from twig to twig among the thickets with so much activity and in so many directions, that the notes reach the ear as it were from opposite places at the same moment. Now the bird mounts in the air in various attitudes, with its legs and feet hanging, while it continues its song and jerks its body with great vehemence, performing the strangest and most whimsical gesticulations; the next moment it returns to the bush. If you imitate its song, it follows your steps with caution, and responds to each of your calls, now and then peeping at you for a moment, the next quite out of sight. Should you have a dog, which will enter its briary retreat, it will skip about him, scold him, and frequently perch, or rise on wing above the thicket, so that you may easily shoot it.

The arrival of the females is marked by the redoubled exertions of the males, who now sing as if delirious with the pleasurable sensations they experience. Before ten days have elapsed, the pairs begin to construct their nest, which is placed in any sort of bush or briar, seldom more than six feet from the ground, and frequently not above two or three. It is large, and composed externally of dry leaves, small sticks, stripes of vine bark and grasses, the interior being formed of fibrous roots and horse-hair. The eggs are four or five, of a light flesh colour, spotted with reddish-brown. In Louisiana and the Carolinas, these birds have two broods in the season; but in Pennsylvania, where they seldom lay before the 20th of May, they have only one brood. The eggs are hatched in twelve days. The male is seldom heard to sing after the breeding season, and they all depart from the Union by the middle of September. Their eggs and young are frequently destroyed by snakes, and a species of insect that feeds on carrion, and burrows in the ground under night. The young resemble the females, and do not acquire the richness of the spring plumage while in the Union.

The food of the Yellow-breasted Chat consists of coleopterous insects and small fruits. They are especially fond of the wild strawberries so abundant in the Kentucky barrens.

When migrating they move from bush to bush by day, and frequently continue their march by night, especially should the moon be out and the weather pleasant. Their flight is short and irregular at all times. When alighted, they frequently jerk their tail, squat, and spring on their legs, and are always in a state of great activity. I never observed them chasing insects on the wing.

I have presented you with several figures of this singular species, to shew you their positions when on the wing performing their antics in the love season as well as when alighted. The wild rose branch with the nest, was cut out of a thicket for the purpose which you see accomplished.

ICTERIA VIRIDIS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the
United States, p. 69.

YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT, PIPRA POLYGLOTTA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
vol. i. p. 90. pl. 6. fig. 2.

YELLOW-BREASTED ICTERIA, ICTERIA VIRIDIS, _Nuttall_, Manual,
part i. p. 299.

Adult Male. Plate CXXXVII. Fig. 1, 1.

Bill of moderate length, strong, slightly arched, broad at the base, compressed towards the end; upper mandible with the sides convex, the edges acute, destitute of notch, the tip acute, and a little declinate; lower mandible with the dorsal line nearly straight, the edge line slightly arched and inflected. Nostrils rounded, half covered by a vaulted membrane. The form is rather robust. Legs of moderate length, slender; tarsus compressed, anteriorly scutellate, sharp behind; two lateral toes nearly equal, the hind one not much stouter; claws small, compressed, acute.

Plumage blended. Wings of moderate length, rounded; third and fourth primaries longest, second almost equal, first a little shorter. Tail longish, rounded. Feathers of the throat and breast with a silky gloss.

Bill black, the base of lower mandible blue. Iris hazel. Feet greyish-blue. The general colour of the upper parts is deep olive-green; the inner webs of the tail-feathers and quills, and the ends of the latter, dusky-brown. A line over the eye, a small streak under it, and a spot at the base of the lower mandible, white. Lore black. Throat and breast bright yellow, abdomen and under tail-coverts white.

Length 7 inches, extent of wings 9; bill along the ridge 6/12, along the edge 9/12; tarsus 10/12.

Adult Female. Plate CXXXVII. Fig. 2, 2.

The Female scarcely differs from the male in any perceptible degree, and is of the same size.

THE SWEET BRIAR.

ROSA RUBIGINOSA?—ICOSANDRIA POLYGYNIA, _Linn._ ROSACEÆ, _Juss._

The Sweet Briar is very generally distributed in the United States. I have found it from Louisiana to the extremities of Nova Scotia along the Atlantic coast, and as far in the interior as I have travelled. The delicious odour of its leaves never fails to gratify the person who brushes through patches of it, while the delicate tints of its flowers reminds one of the loveliness of female beauty in its purest and most blooming state. Truly a "sweet home" must be the nest that is placed in an eglantine bower, and happy must be the bird that in the midst of fragrance is cheered by the warble of her ever loving mate.

THE CONNECTICUT WARBLER.

_SYLVIA AGILIS_, WILS.

PLATE CXXXVIII. MALE AND FEMALE.

I procured the pair represented in the Plate, on a fine evening, nearly at sun-set, at the end of August, on the banks of the Delaware River, in New Jersey, a few miles below Camden. When I first observed them, they were hopping and skipping from one low bush to another, and among the tall reeds of the marsh, emitting an often-repeated _tweet_ at every move. They were chasing a species of spider which runs nimbly over the water, and which they caught by gliding over it, as a Swallow does when drinking. I followed them for about a hundred yards, when, watching a fair opportunity, I shot both at once. The weather was exceedingly sultry; and although I outlined both by candle-light that evening, and finished the drawing of them next morning by breakfast time, they had at that early hour become putrid, so that their skins could not be preserved. On opening them I counted upwards of fifty of the spiders mentioned above, but found no appearance of any other food. The sexual distinction was very apparent, and the brace proved a pair. They were not in the least shy, and in fact seemed to take very little notice of me, although at times I was quite close to them. These being the only individuals I ever met with, I am of course unable to say where the species breeds, or what are its migrations.

The plant on which they are placed grew abundantly on the spot where I procured them; and as they had just alighted on it when I shot them, it being moreover a handsome species, I thought it best to attach it to them.

SYLVIA AGILIS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United
States, p. 84.

CONNECTICUT WARBLER, SYLVIA AGILIS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. v.
p. 64. pl. 39. fig. 4.—_Nuttall_, Manual, part i. p. 399.

Adult Male, Plate CXXXVIII, Fig. 1.

Bill short, straight, conico-subulate, acute; nostrils basal, lateral, oval, exposed; head of moderate size; neck short, body rather slender; feet of moderate length; tarsus slender, compressed, scutellate before, sharp behind; toes free, the lateral equal, the hind one not much stronger; claws arched, slender, much compressed, acute.

Plumage soft and blended, with little gloss; wings rather short, the first and second quills longest; tail of moderate length, rounded, and emarginate.

Bill light-brown on the ridge and tips, flesh-coloured beneath. Iris hazel. Legs pale flesh-coloured. The general colour above is rich olive-green, the concealed parts of the quills and tail dusky-brown; eye margined with a ring of yellowish-white; throat ash-grey, the rest of the under parts dull greenish-yellow, excepting the sides, under the wings, which are olive-green.

Length 5¾ inches, extent of wings 8; bill along the ridge 4/12, along the edge 6½/12; tarsus 10/12.

Adult Female, Plate CXXXVIII, Fig. 2.

The Female resembles the male in the upper parts, but the throat is greenish-yellow, and the rest of the under parts somewhat less richly coloured than those of the male.

GENTIANA SAPONARIA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. i. p. 1388. _Pursh_,
Fl. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 185.—PENTANDRIA DIGYNIA, _Linn._
GENTIANEÆ, _Juss._

Stem round, smooth; leaves oblongo-lanceolate, three nerved; flowers sessile, tufted, terminal and axillar; corolla quinquefid, campanulate, ventricose, with the divisions obtuse, the internal plaits with toothed segments. It grows in meadows and woods, from Canada to Carolina, flowering in August and September.

THE FIELD SPARROW.

_FRINGILLA PUSILLA_, WILS.

PLATE CXXXIX. ADULT.

This diminutive and elegant species of Finch may certainly be ranked among our constant residents, numerous individuals remaining during the winter within the limits of the Union. In Louisiana and the countries along the Mississippi, as far as Kentucky, and in all the Southern States, as far as Maryland, they are to be found in the coldest weather. In South Carolina they are met with along every hedge-row and in every briar-patch, as well as in the old fields slightly covered with tall slender grasses, on the seeds of which they chiefly subsist during the inclement season. Loose flocks, sometimes of forty or fifty, are seen hopping along the sandy roads, picking up particles of gravel. On the least alarm, they all take to wing, and alight on the nearest bushes, but the next moment return to the ground. They leave the south as early as March, move northwards as the season advances, and appear in the States of New York and Pennsylvania, about the middle of April.

The song of the Field Sparrow is remarkable, although not fine. It trills its notes like a young Canary Bird, and now and then emits emphatical, though not very distinct sounds of some length. One accustomed to distinguish the notes of different birds can easily recognise the song of this species; but the description of it, I confess, I am unable to accomplish, so at least as to afford you any tolerable idea of it.

It is a social and peaceable bird. When the breeding season is at hand they disperse, move off in pairs, and throw themselves into old pasture grounds, overgrown with low bushes, on the tops of which the males may be heard practising their vocal powers. They usually breed on the ground, at the foot of a small bush or rank-weed; but I have also found several of their nests on the lower branches of trees, a foot or two from the ground. The nest is simple, formed chiefly of fine dry grasses, in some instances scantily lined with horse-hair or delicate fibrous roots, much resembling hair. The eggs are from four to six, of a light ferruginous tint, produced by the blending of small dots of that colour. So prolific is this species, that I have observed a pair raise three broods in one summer, the amount of individuals produced being fifteen. The young run after their parents, leaving the nest before they can fly, and are left to shift for themselves ere they are fully fledged; but as they find every where abundance of insects, berries, and small seeds, they contrive to get on without help.

These birds are fond of orchards, enter our country towns in autumn, alight on the tallest trees in open woods, and migrate solely by day. Their flight is rapid, even, and occasionally sustained; for, when fairly alarmed, they move at once over fields of considerable extent.

I saw few in Maine, and none in the British provinces, in Labrador or in Newfoundland.

The colour of the bill varies with the seasons, being in winter of a dingy reddish-brown, and in summer assuming a tint approaching to orange. There is no perceptible difference in the size or colour of the sexes. The young acquire their full plumage the first autumn.

Travelling from Great Egg Harbour towards Philadelphia, I found a nest of this species placed at the foot of a bush growing in almost pure sand. Near it were the plants which you see accompanying the figure.

FRINGILLA PUSILLA, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the
United States, p. 110.

FIELD SPARROW, FRINGILLA PUSILLA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. ii.
p. 121. pl. 16. fig. 2.

FIELD OR RUSH SPARROW, FRINGILLA JUNCORUM, _Nuttall_, Manual,
part i. p. 499.

Adult Male, Plate CXXXIX.

Bill short, rather small, strong, conical, acute; upper mandible rather narrower than the lower, very slightly declinate at the tip, rounded on the sides, as is the lower, which has the edges inflected and acute; the gap-line very slightly arched, slightly deflected at the base. Nostrils basal, roundish, partially concealed by the feathers. The general form rather robust. Legs of moderate length, slender; tarsus longer than the middle toe, covered anteriorly with a few longish scutella; toes scutellate above, free, the lateral ones nearly equal; claws slender, slightly arched, that of the hind toe scarcely larger, much compressed, acute.

Plumage soft, blended, rather compact on the back; wings shortish, curved, rounded, the third quill longest, the second and fourth scarcely shorter; tail long, emarginate.

This species, in size and general appearance, is very closely allied to the Chipping Sparrow (see p. 21. of the present volume.)

Bill reddish-brown or cinnamon-colour. Iris chestnut. Feet pale yellowish-brown. Upper part of the head chestnut; anterior portion of the back and scapulars of the same tint, but marked with blackish-brown spots, the middle part of each feather being of that colour; sides of the neck pale bluish-grey, and a line of the same over the eye; rump and tail yellowish-grey, the inner webs of the latter light-brown; quills and coverts blackish-brown, margined with whitish, the two rows of coverts slightly tipped with brownish-white; the under parts are greyish-white; the sides of the neck and fore part of the breast tinged with chestnut.

Length 6 inches, extent of wings 8; bill along the back ¼, along the edge 5/12.

The Female is rather less, and somewhat duller beneath, but in other respects is precisely similar.

CALOPOGON PULCHELLUS, _Brown_—CYMBIDIUM PULCHELLUM, _Willd._
Sp. Pl. vol. iv. p. 105. _Pursh_, Fl. Amer. Sept. vol. ii. p. 592.
—GYNANDRIA MONANDRIA, _Linn._ ORCHIDEÆ, _Juss._

Root tuberous, of an oblong form; radical leaves linear-lanceolate, nerved; scape few-flowered; lip at the back clawed, the inside bearded; five distinct petals of a light purplish-red. It grows in sandy soils from Maine to the Floridas; I have not observed it in the more Southern or Western States.

THE DWARF HUCKLE-BERRY.

VACCINIUM TENELLUM, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. ii. p. 353. _Pursh_,
Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 289.—DECANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._
ERICÆ, _Juss._

The branches angular, green; leaves sessile, ovato-lanceolate, mucronate, serrulate, glossy on both sides; flowers in sessile clusters; corolla ovate. This plant grows in most of the lands of the Middle and Eastern Districts, both in woods and in open places. Its berries are eaten by various birds, as well as by children.

THE PINE CREEPING WARBLER.

_SYLVIA PINUS_, LATH.

PLATE CXL. MALE AND FEMALE.

The Pine Creeping Warbler, the most abundant of its tribe, is met with from Louisiana to Maine, more profusely in the warmer, and more sparingly in the colder regions, breeding wherever fir or pine trees are to be found. Although it may occasionally be seen on other trees, yet it always prefers those of that remarkable and interesting tribe. I found it on the sandy barrens bordering St John's River, in East Florida, in full song, early in February. I am pretty certain that they had already formed nests at that early period, and it seems to me not unlikely that this species, as well as some others that breed in that country at the same time, may afterwards travel far to the eastward, and there rear another brood the same year.

In some degree allied to the Certhiæ in its habits, it is often seen ascending the trunks and larger branches of trees, hopping against the bark, in search of the larvæ that lurk there. At times it moves sidewise along a branch three or four steps, and turning about, goes on in the same manner, until it has reached a twig, which it immediately examines. Its restless activity is quite surprising: now it gives chase to an insect on wing; now, it is observed spying out those more diminutive species concealed among the blossoms and leaves of the pines; again, it leaves the topmost branches of a tree, flies downwards, and alights sidewise on the trunk of another, which it ascends, changing its position, from right to left, at every remove. It also visits the ground in quest of food, and occasionally betakes itself to the water, to drink or bathe.

It is seldom that an individual is seen by itself going through its course of action, for a kind of sympathy seems to exist in a flock, and in autumn and winter especially, thirty or more may be observed, if not on the same tree, at least not far from each other. Although it feeds on insects, larvæ, and occasionally small crickets, it seems to give a decided preference to a little red insect of the coleopterous order, which is found inclosed in the leaves or stipules of the pine. Low lands seem to suit it best, for it is much less numerous in mountainous countries than in those bordering the sea.

Like many other birds, the Pine Creeping Warbler constructs its nest of different materials, nay even makes it of a different form, in the Southern and Eastern States. In the Carolinas, for instance, it is usually placed among the dangling fibres of the Spanish moss, with less workmanship and less care, than in the Jerseys, the State of New York, or that of Maine. In the latter, as well as in Massachusetts, where it breeds about the middle of June, it places its nest at a great height, sometimes fifty feet, attaching it to the twigs of a forked branch. Here the nest is small, thin but compact, composed of the slender stems of dried grasses mixed with coarse fibrous roots and the exuviæ of caterpillars or other insects, and lined with the hair of the deer, moose, racoon, or other animals, delicate fibrous roots, wool, and feathers. The eggs, which are from four to six, have a very light sea-green tint, all over sprinkled with small pale reddish-brown dots, of which there is a thicker circle near the larger end. In these districts, it seldom breeds more than once in the season, whereas in the Carolinas, Georgia, and the Floridas, where it is a constant resident, it usually has two, sometimes three, broods in the year, and its eggs are deposited on the first days of April, fully a month earlier than in the State above mentioned.

Its flight is short, and exhibits undulating curves of considerable elegance. It migrates entirely by day, flying from tree to tree, and seldom making a longer flight than is necessary for crossing a river. The song is monotonous, consisting at times merely of a continued tremulous sound, which may be represented by the letters _Trr-rr-rr-rr_. During the love season, this is changed into a more distinct sound, resembling _twĕ, twĕ, tĕ, tĕ, tē, tēē_. It sings at all hours of the day, even in the heat of summer noon, when the woodland songsters are usually silent.

It is a hardy bird, seldom abandoning the most northern of the Eastern States until the middle of October. I saw none beyond the Province of New Brunswick, and Professor MACCULLOCH of Pictou had not observed it in Nova Scotia. In Newfoundland and Labrador I did not see a single individual.

I have placed a pair of these birds on a branch of their favourite pine; but the colouring of the male is not so brilliant as it is in spring and summer, the individual represented having been drawn in Louisiana in the winter, where, as well as in the Carolinas, the Floridas, and all the Southern Districts, it is a constant resident.

SYLVIA PINUS, _Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 537.—_Ch.
Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 81.

PINE CREEPING WARBLER, SYLVIA PINUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith.
vol. iii. p. 25. pl. 19. fig. 4.

PINE WARBLER, SYLVIA PINUS, _Nuttall_, Manual, part i. p. 387.

Adult Male. Plate CXL. Fig. 1.

Bill shortish, nearly straight, subulato-conical, rather depressed at the base, compressed towards the end, acute, the edges sharp, with a very slight notch close to the tip. Nostrils basal, lateral, elliptical, half-closed by a membrane. Head of ordinary size, neck short, body rather slender. Feet of ordinary length, slender; tarsus compressed, anteriorly scutellate, sharp behind; toes free, the hind toe of moderate size, the lateral toes nearly equal; claws slender, compressed, arched acute.

Plumage soft blended. Wings rather long, second quill longest, first and third scarcely shorter. Tail rather long, emarginate. Distinct bristles at the base of the bill.