Chapter XV: Part 15

These birds are frequently caught in the nets placed across the bayous of the lakes in the neighbourhood of New Orleans, for the purpose of catching Blue-winged Teals and other Ducks. They come against them while flying, but if the hunter is not extremely quick they make their escape by nimbly scrambling up, using their bill and feet until they reach the outer part of the net, when they drop into the water like so many terapins. At times they congregate in vast numbers, and swim so closely that a hunter in my employ, while on Lake Barataria, killed eighty at a single shot. They are extremely abundant in the New Orleans’ markets during the latter part of autumn and in winter, when the negroes and the poorer classes purchase them to make “gombo.” In preparing them for cooking, they skin them like rabbits instead of plucking them.

Both old and young birds differ considerably in size and weight. The male, from which I drew the figure in the plate, was procured at General HERNANDEZ’s, in East Florida, and was among the best of about thirty shot on one of my excursions there.

FULICA AMERICANA, _Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 779.—_Ch.
Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 338.

COMMON COOT, FULICA ATRA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. ix.
p. 61. pl. 73. fig. 1.

CINEREOUS COOT, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 229.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXXIX.

Bill about the same length as the head, stout, straight, compressed, higher than broad at the base. Upper mandible with the dorsal line straight and slightly sloping, towards the end slightly arched and deflected, the ridge flattish at the base, and continuous with an oblong soft tumid plate which ascends on the forehead, the rest of the ridge convex; sides rapidly slopping, edges overlapping, sharp, with a slight notch close to the obtuse tip. Nasal groove wide, extending to two-thirds of the whole length of the mandible, filled with a soft bare membrane; nostrils linear, medial, lateral, direct, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle long, narrow, rounded, the dorsal line nearly straight, the sides flattish, the edges sharp.

Head small, oblong, much compressed. Neck of moderate length, slender. Body rather full, compressed. Feet of moderate length, strong; tibia bare a short way above the joint; tarsus rather short, compressed, broader below, anteriorly covered with broad scutella, laterally with angular scales, on the outer side behind a row of scutelliform scales; hind toe short, slender; middle toe longest, fourth longer than second; toes scutellate above, hind one with an inferior lobe, second with two larger inner and two smaller outer rounded lobes; third with three, fourth with four on each side; claws of moderate length, slightly arched, much compressed, acute, the middle one with a thin inner edge.

Plumage very soft and blended, on the head and neck short. Wings short, broad, rounded; primaries curved, second longest, third little shorter, first rather longer than sixth, all broad and rounded; secondaries broad, rounded with a minute tip, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail very short, much rounded, of twelve weak rounded feathers; the upper and lower coverts nearly as long as the tail-feathers.

Bill greyish-white, with a dusky spot on each mandible towards the end; frontal callosity white during life, brownish-red after death. Head and neck greyish-black, the upper parts deep bluish-grey, with an olivaceous tinge on the scapulars and inner secondaries. Quills greyish-brown, darker towards the tips; the edge of the wings, outer margin of first quill, and tips of outer secondaries, white. Tail brownish-black; lower tail-coverts white. The breast and abdomen are light bluish-grey, the latter paler, the sides darker; the lower surface of the wings of the same dull leaden tint.

Length to end of tail 13-10/12 inches, to end of wings 14-5/12, to end of claws 18-3/4; extent of wings 25; wing from flexure 7-1/2; tail 2-3/4; bill along the back 1-7/12, along the edge of lower mandible 1-2/12; bare part of tibia 3/4; tarsus 2; middle toe 2-8/12, its claw (7-1/2)/12. Weight 1 lb.

THE ROSEATE TERN.

_STERNA DOUGALLII_, MONT.

PLATE CCXL. ADULT.

On the 28th of April 1832, it was my lot to be on the beautiful rocky islet named Indian Key, where I spent a few hours of the night in unsuccessful attempts to procure repose, which was effectually banished by the consciousness of my being in a portion of the country not yet examined by any industrious student of nature, and in which I expected to find much that would prove interesting. The rain fell in torrents, and the rattling of the large drops on the shingles of the veranda in which my hammock had been slung, together with the chillness of the air, contributed to keep me awake. Finding it useless to remain in bed, I roused my companions; it was just four o’clock, and in a few minutes all the people in the house were up, and breakfast preparing. Before six the rain abated, and as I was determined not to lose a day, the guns were mustered, we made our way to the boats, and pushed off through a gentle shower in quest of unknown birds! In about an hour the rain ceased, the sky gradually cleared, and the sun soon dried our clothes. About this time we observed a great number of Terns on a sand bar, which we approached. The birds were not shy, so that we obtained an opportunity of firing two guns at them, when we leaped out, and on wading to the shore picked up thirty-eight Roseate Terns and several of another species.

Beautiful, indeed, are Terns of every kind, but the Roseate excels the rest, if not in form, yet in the lovely hue of its breast. I had never seen a bird of this species before, and as the unscathed hundreds arose and danced as it were in the air, I thought them the Humming Birds of the sea, so light and graceful were their movements. Now they flocked together and hovered over us, again with a sudden dash they plunged towards us in anger; even their cries of wrath sounded musical, and although I had carried destruction among them, I felt delighted. As I have just said, I had not before seen a Roseate Tern, not even the skin of one stuffed with tow; the species was not in the Synopsis of my friend BONAPARTE, and now I had my cap filled to the brim with specimens. You may rest assured that I took precious care of those which I had procured, but not another individual was robbed of life on that excursion. The other Terns were as new to me. I observed the form of their black bill and feet, the yellow tip of the former, and wrapped them up with care, while I tried to recollect the name they bore in books. To have found hundreds of the Roseate Tern in the Floridas, while I had anxious but slender hopes of meeting it on the coast of Labrador, was to me quite astonishing. So it was, however, and I determined to ransack every key and sand-beach, to try to find its breeding-ground. Nor were my desires ungratified.

The Roseate Tern spends the breeding season along the southern shores of the Floridas in considerable numbers. At different times in the course of nearly three months which I spent among the keys, I saw flocks of twenty, thirty, or more pairs, breeding on small detached rocky islands, scantily furnished with grass, and in the company of hundreds of Sandwich Terns. The two species appeared to agree well together, and their nests were intermingled. The full number of eggs of the present species is three. They differ considerably in size and markings; their average length, however, is an inch and three quarters, their breadth an inch and one-eighth; they are of a longish oval shape, rather narrowed at the small end, of a dull buff or clay colour, sparingly sprinkled and spotted with different tints of umber and light purple. They were deposited on the bare rocks, among the roots of the grasses, and left in fair weather to the heat of the sun. Like those of the Common Tern and other species, they are delicious eating. The eggs of the Sandwich Tern were more attended to during the day, but toward night both species sat on their eggs. I did not see any of the young, but procured a good number of those of the preceding year, which kept apart from the old birds, but had in all respects the same habits.

The Roseate Tern is at all times a noisy, restless bird; and on approaching its breeding place, it incessantly emits its sharp shrill cries, resembling the syllable _crāk_. Its flight is unsteady and flickering, like that of the Arctic or Lesser Terns, but rather more buoyant and graceful. They would dash at us and be off again with astonishing quickness, making great use of their tail on such occasions. While in search of prey, they carry the bill in the manner of the Common Tern, that is perpendicularly downward, plunge like a shot, with wings nearly closed, so as to immerse part of the body, and immediately reascend. They were seen dipping in this manner eight or ten times in succession, and each time generally secured a small fish. Their food consisted of fishes, and a kind of small molluscous animal which floats near the surface, and bears the name of “sailor’s button.” They usually kept in parties of from ten to twenty, followed the shores of the sand-bars and keys, moving backwards and forwards much in the manner of the Lesser Tern, and wherever a shoal of small fish was found, there they would hover and dash headlong at them for several minutes at a time.

The wreckers informed me that this species returns regularly to these islands each spring, about the 10th of April, and goes off southward early in September. These birds, with their favourite companions the Sandwich Terns, habitually resorted to the sand-bars each day, to rest for an hour or two. I have never seen them on any part of our middle or eastern coast, and am of opinion that they rarely proceed farther eastward than the Capes of Florida, and that they are more attached to the immediate vicinity of the shores than the larger species, which more generally fly out to some distance. The delicate and beautiful rosy tint of the breast soon fades after death. Those specimens which were not skinned immediately after being procured did not retain it for a week, and in none of them was it perceptible, without separating the feathers, at the end of a month. In winter it disappears, as well as the glossy black of the head. The length of the outer tail-feathers varies considerably; but I could perceive no decided difference of size or colour in the sexes, although I thought the females somewhat smaller than the males.

STERNA DOUGALLII, _Mont._ Ornith. Dict.

HIRONDELLE-DE-MER DOUGALL, STERNA DOUGALLII, _Temm._ Man.
d’Ornith. part ii. p. 738.

ROSEATE TERN, _Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 278.

Adult Male. Plate CCXL.

Bill longer than the head, slender, tapering, compressed, nearly straight, very acute. Upper mandible with the dorsal line slightly arched, the ridge rather broad and convex at the base, narrow towards the end, the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip acute. Nasal groove short, extended to one-third of the length of the bill, deflected towards the edge; nostrils basal, linear, direct, pervious. Lower mandible with the angle extremely narrow, very acute, extending to a little beyond the middle, the dorsal line straight, the sides convex, the sharp edges inflected, the tip extremely acute.

Head of moderate size, oblong; neck of moderate length; body very slender; feet small; wings and tail very long. Tibia bare for a considerable space; tarsus very short, slender, roundish, covered anteriorly with small scutella, laterally and behind with reticular scales; toes small, slender, the first very small, the third longest, the fourth nearly as long, the second much shorter, all scutellate above, the anterior united by reticulated webs having a concave margin; claws curved, compressed, acute, that of hind toe smallest, of middle toe by much the largest, and having the inner edge thin and dilated.

Plumage soft, close, blended, very short on the head; the feathers in general broad and rounded. Wings very long, narrow, and pointed; primary quills tapering, the first longest, the rest rapidly graduated; secondary short, broad, incurved, rounded, the inner more tapering. Tail long, very deeply forked, of twelve feathers, of which the outer are tapering, the middle short and rounded.

Bill brownish-black, deep orange at the base. Iris brown. Feet vermilion; claws blackish-brown, yellow at the base. The upper part of the head and elongated occipital feathers greenish-black; the hind neck white, the rest of the upper parts pale bluish-grey, the tail lighter; the edges of the wings, the tips and inner edges of the quills, and the shafts white. The first primary is black on the outer web and part of the inner, the next two are similarly marked, but with the black shaded over with pale grey, the loose barbules being of that colour; the other primaries become gradually lighter. The lower parts are of a beautiful light roseate hue, which soon fades after death; the under surface of wings and tail white.

Length to end of tail 14-10/12 inches, to end of wings 12, to end of claws 9-4/12; extent of wings 30; wing from flexure 9-1/2; tail to end of shortest feathers 4-3/4, to end of longest feathers 7-1/2; bill along the ridge 1-1/2, along the edge of lower mandible 2-1/12; tarsus 10/12, middle toe 10/12 its claw (3-1/2)/12.

REMINISCENCES OF THOMAS BEWICK.

Through the kindness of Mr SELBY of Twizel-House in Northumberland, I had anticipated the pleasure of forming an acquaintance with the celebrated and estimable BEWICK, whose works indicate an era in the history of the art of engraving on wood. In my progress southward, after leaving Edinburgh in 1827, I reached Newcastle-upon-Tyne about the middle of April, when Nature had begun to decorate anew the rich country around. The lark was in full song, the blackbird rioted in the exuberance of joy, the husbandman cheerily plied his healthful labours, and I, although a stranger in a foreign land, felt delighted with all around me, for I had formed friends who were courteous and kind, and whose favour I had reason to hope would continue. Nor have I been disappointed in my expectations.

BEWICK must have heard of my arrival at Newcastle before I had an opportunity of calling upon him, for he sent me by his son the following note:—“T. BEWICK’s compliments to Mr AUDUBON, and will be glad of the honour of his company this day to tea at six o’clock.” These few words at once proved to me the kindness of his nature, and, as my labours were closed for the day, I accompanied the son to his father’s house.

As yet I had seen but little of the town, and had never crossed the Tyne. The first remarkable object that attracted my notice was a fine church, which my companion informed me was that of St Nicholas. Passing over the river by a stone bridge of several arches, I saw by the wharfs a considerable number of vessels, among which I distinguished some of American construction. The shores on either side were pleasant, the undulated ground being ornamented with buildings, windmills, and glassworks. On the water glided, or were swept along by great oars, boats of singular form, deeply laden with the subterranean produce of the hills around.

At length we reached the dwelling of the Engraver, and I was at once shewn to his workshop. There I met the old man, who, coming towards me, welcomed me with a hearty shake of the hand, and for a moment took off a cotton night-cap, somewhat soiled by the smoke of the place. He was a tall stout man, with a large head, and with eyes placed farther apart than those of any man that I have ever seen:—a perfect old Englishman, full of life, although seventy-four years of age, active and prompt in his labours. Presently he proposed shewing me the work he was at, and went on with his tools. It was a small vignette, cut on a block of boxwood not more than three by two inches in surface, and represented a dog frightened at night by what he fancied to be living objects, but which were actually roots and branches of trees, rocks, and other objects bearing the semblance of men. This curious piece of art, like all his works, was exquisite, and more than once did I feel strongly tempted to ask a rejected bit, but was prevented by his inviting me up stairs, where, he said, I should soon meet all the best artists of Newcastle.

There I was introduced to the Misses BEWICK, amiable and affable ladies, who manifested all anxiety to render my visit agreeable. Among the visitors I saw a Mr GOUD, and was highly pleased with one of the productions of his pencil, a full length miniature in oil of BEWICK, well drawn, and highly finished.

The old gentleman and I stuck to each other, he talking of my drawings, I of his wood-cuts. Now and then he would take off his cap, and draw up his grey worsted stockings to his nether clothes; but whenever our conversation became animated, the replaced cap was left sticking as if by magic to the hind part of his head, the neglected hose resumed their downward tendency, his fine eyes sparkled, and he delivered his sentiments with a freedom and vivacity which afforded me great pleasure. He said he had heard that my drawings had been exhibited in Liverpool, and felt great anxiety to see some of them, which he proposed to gratify by visiting me early next morning along with his daughters and a few friends. Recollecting at that moment how desirous my sons, then in Kentucky, were to have a copy of his works on Quadrupeds, I asked him where I could procure one, when he immediately answered “Here,” and forthwith presented me with a beautiful set.

The tea-drinking having in due time come to an end, young BEWICK, to amuse me, brought a bagpipe of a new construction, called the Durham Pipe, and played some simple Scotch, English and Irish airs, all sweet and pleasing to my taste. I could scarcely understand how, with his large fingers, he managed to cover each hole separately. The instrument sounded somewhat like a hautboy, and had none of the shrill warlike notes or booming sound of the military bagpipe of the Scotch Highlanders. The company dispersed at any early hour, and when I parted from BEWICK that night, I parted from a friend.

A few days after this I received another note from him, which I read hastily, having with me at the moment many persons examining my drawings. This note having, as I understood it, intimated his desire that I should go and dine with him that day, I accordingly went; but judge of my surprise when, on arriving at his house at 5 o’clock, with an appetite becoming the occasion, I discovered that I had been invited to tea and not to dinner. However, the mistake was speedily cleared up to the satisfaction of all parties, and an abundant supply of eatables was placed on the table. The Reverend WILLIAM TURNER joined us, and the evening passed delightfully. At first our conversation was desultory and multifarious, but when the table was removed, BEWICK took his seat by the fire, and we talked of our more immediate concerns. In due time we took leave, and returned to our homes, pleased with each other and with our host.

Having been invited the previous evening to breakfast with BEWICK at 8, I revisited him at that hour on the 16th April, and found the whole family so kind and attentive that I felt quite at home. The good gentleman, after breakfast, soon betook himself to his labours, and began to shew me, as he laughingly said, how easy it was to cut wood; but I soon saw that cutting wood in his style and manner was no joke, although to him it seemed indeed easy. His delicate and beautiful tools were all made by himself, and I may with truth say that his shop was the only artist’s “shop” that I ever found perfectly clean and tidy. In the course of the day BEWICK called upon me again, and put down his name on my list of subscribers in behalf of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Newcastle. In this, however, his enthusiasm had misled him, for the learned body for which he took upon himself to act, did not think proper to ratify the compact.

Another invitation having come to me from Gatehead, I found my good friend seated in his usual place. His countenance seemed to me to beam with pleasure as he shook my hand. “I could not bear the idea,” said he, “of your going off, without telling you, in written words, what I think of your Birds of America. Here it is in black and white, and make of it what use you may, if it be of use at all.” I put the unsealed letter in my pocket, and we chatted on subjects connected with natural history. Now and then he would start and exclaim, “Oh, that I were young again! I would go to America too. Hey! what a country it will be, Mr AUDUBON.” I retorted by exclaiming, “Hey! what a country it is already, Mr BEWICK!” In the midst of our conversation on birds and other animals, he drank my health and the peace of all the world in hot brandy toddy, and I returned the compliment, wishing, no doubt in accordance with his own sentiments, the health of all our enemies. His daughters enjoyed the scene, and remarked, that for years, their father had not been in such a flow of spirits.

I regret that I have not by me at present the letter which this generous and worthy man gave me that evening, otherwise, for his sake, I should have presented you with it. It is in careful keeping, however, as a memorial of a man whose memory is dear to me; and be assured I regard it with quite as much pleasure as a manuscript “Synopsis of the Birds of America,” by ALEXANDER WILSON, which that celebrated individual gave to me at Louisville in Kentucky, more than twenty years ago. BEWICK’s letter, however, will be presented to you along with many others, in connection with some strange facts, which I hope may be useful to the world. We protracted our conversation beyond our usual time of retiring to rest, and at his earnest request, and much to my satisfaction, I promised to spend the next evening with him, as it was to be my last at Newcastle for some time.

On the 19th of the same month I paid him my last visit, at his house. When we parted, he repeated three times, “God preserve you, God bless you!” He must have been sensible of the emotion which I felt, and which he must have read in my looks, although I refrained from speaking on the occasion.

A few weeks previous to the death of this fervent admirer of nature, he and his daughters paid me a visit in London. He looked as well as when I had seen him at Newcastle. Our interview was short but agreeable, and when he bade adieu, I was certainly far from thinking that it might be the last. But so it was, for only a very short time had elapsed when I saw his death announced in the newspapers.

My opinion of this remarkable man is, that he was purely a son of nature, to whom alone he owed nearly all that characterized him as an artist and a man. Warm in his affections, of deep feeling, and possessed of a vigorous imagination, with correct and penetrating observation, he needed little extraneous aid to make him what he became, the first engraver on wood that England has produced. Look at his tail-pieces, Reader, and say if you ever saw so much life represented before, from the glutton who precedes the Great Black-backed Gull, to the youngsters flying their kite, the disappointed sportsman who, by shooting a magpie, has lost a woodcock, the horse endeavouring to reach the water, the bull roaring near the style, or the poor beggar attacked by the rich man’s mastiff. As you turn each successive leaf, from beginning to end of his admirable books, scenes calculated to excite your admiration everywhere present themselves. Assuredly you will agree with me in thinking that in his peculiar path none has equalled him. There may be men now, or some may in after years appear, whose works may in some respects rival or even excel his, but not the less must THOMAS BEWICK of Newcastle-on-Tyne be considered in the art of engraving on wood what LINNÆUS will ever be in natural history, though not the founder, yet the enlightened improver and illustrious promoter.

THE GREAT BLACK-BACKED GULL.

_LARUS MARINUS_, LINN.

PLATE CCXLI. MALE.

High in the thin keen air, far above the rugged crags of the desolate shores of Labrador, proudly sails the tyrant Gull, floating along on almost motionless wing, like an eagle in his calm and majestic flight. On widely extended pinions, he moves in large circles, constantly eyeing the objects below. Harsh and loud are his cries, and with no pleasant feeling do they come on the winged multitudes below. Now onward he sweeps, passes over each rocky bay, visits the little islands, and shoots off towards the mossy heaths, attracted perhaps by the notes of the Grous or some other birds. As he flies over each estuary, lake, or pool, the breeding birds prepare to defend their unfledged broods, or ensure their escape from the powerful beak of their remorseless spoiler. Even the shoals of the finny tribes sink deeper into the waters as he approaches; the young birds become silent in their nests or seek for safety in the clefts of the rocks; the Guillemots and Gannets dread to look up, and the other Gulls, unable to cope with the destroyer, give way as he advances. Far off among the rolling billows, he spies the carcass of some monster of the deep, and, on steady wing, glides off towards it. Alighting on the huge whale, he throws upwards his head, opens his bill, and, louder and fiercer than ever, sends his cries through the air. Leisurely he walks over the putrid mass, and now, assured that all is safe, he tears, tugs, and swallows piece after piece, until he is crammed to the throat, when he lays himself down surfeited and exhausted, to rest for a while in the feeble sheen of the northern sun. Great, however, are the powers of his stomach, and ere long the half-putrid food which vulture-like he has devoured, is digested. Like all gluttons, he loves variety, and away he flies to some well-known isle, where thousands of young birds or eggs are to be found. There, without remorse, he breaks the shells, swallows their contents, and begins leisurely to devour the helpless young. Neither the cries of the parents, nor all their attempts to drive the plunderer away, can induce him to desist until he has again satisfied his ever-craving appetite. But although tyrannical, the Great Gull is a coward, and meanly does he sneak off when he sees the Skua fly up, which, smaller as it is, yet evinces a thoughtless intrepidity, that strikes the ravenous and merciless bird with terror.

If we compare this species with some other of its tribe, and mark its great size, its powerful flight, and its robust constitution, we cannot but wonder to find its range so limited during the breeding season. Few individuals are to be found northward of the entrance into Baffin’s Bay, and rarely are they met with beyond this, as no mention is made of them by Dr RICHARDSON in the Fauna Boreali-Americana. Along our coast, none breed farther south than the eastern extremity of Maine. The western shores of Labrador, along an extent of about three hundred miles, afford the stations to which this species resorts during spring and summer; there it is abundant, and there it was that I studied its habits.

The farthest limits of the winter migrations of the young, so far as I have observed, are the middle portions of the eastern coast of the Floridas. While at St Augustine, in the winter of 1831, I saw several pairs keeping company with the young Brown Pelican, more as a matter of interest than of friendship, as they frequently chased them as if to force them to disgorge a portion of their earnings, acting much in the same manner as the Lestris does toward the smaller Gulls, but without any effect. They were extremely shy, alighted only on the outer edges of the outer sand-bars, and could not be approached, as they regularly walked off before my party the moment any of us moved towards them, until reaching the last projecting point, they flew off, and never stopped until out of sight. At what period they left that coast I am unable to say. Some are seen scattered along our sea-shores, from the Floridas to the Middle States, there being but few old birds among them; but the species does not become abundant until beyond the eastern extremities of the Connecticut and Long Island, when their number greatly increases the farther you proceed. On the whole of that extensive range, these birds are very shy and wary, and those which are procured are merely “chance shots.” They seldom advance far up the bays, unless forced to do so by severe weather or heavy gales; and although I have seen this bird on our great lakes, I do not remember having ever observed an individual on any of our eastern rivers, at a distance from the sea, whereas the _Larus argentatus_ is frequently found in such places.

Towards the commencement of summer, these wandering birds are seen abandoning the waters of the ocean to tarry for a while on the wild shores of Labrador, dreary and desolate to man, but to them delightful as affording all that they can desire. One by one they arrive, the older individuals first. As they view from afar the land of their birth, that moment they emit their loud cries, with all the joy a traveller feels when approaching his loved home. The males sooner or later fall in with the females of their choice, and together they proceed to some secluded sand-bar, where they fill the air with their furious laughs until the rocks echo again. Should the student of nature happen to be a distant spectator of these meetings, he too must have much enjoyment. Each male bows, moves around his mate, and no doubt discloses to her the ardour of his love. Matters are managed to the satisfaction of all parties, yet day after day for a while, at the retreat of the waters, they meet as if by mutual agreement. Now you see them dressing their plumage, now partially expanding their wings to the sun; some lay themselves comfortably down on the sand, while others, supported by one foot, stand side by side. The waters again advance, and the Gulls all move off in search of food. At length the time has arrived; small parties of a few pairs fly towards the desert isles. Some remain in the nearest to prepare their nests, the rest proceed, until each pair has found a suitable retreat, and before a fortnight has elapsed, incubation has commenced.

The nest of this species is usually placed on the bare rock of some low island, sometimes beneath a projecting shelf, sometimes in a wide fissure. In Labrador it is formed of moss and seaweeds carefully arranged, and has a diameter of about two feet, being raised on the edges to the height of five or six inches, but seldom more than two inches thick in the centre, where feathers, dry grass, and other materials are added. The eggs are three, and in no instance have I found more. They are two inches and seven-eighths in length, by two inches and one-eighth in breadth, broadly ovate, rough but not granulated, of a pale earthy greenish-grey colour, irregularly blotched and spotted with brownish-black, dark umber, and dull purple. Like those of most other Gulls, they afford good eating. This species lays from the middle of May to that of June, and raises only one brood in the season. The birds never leave their eggs for any length of time, until the young make their appearance. Both sexes incubate, the sitting bird being supplied with food by the other. During the first week, the young are fed by having their supplies disgorged into their bill, but when they have attained some size, the food is dropped beside or before them. When they are approached by man, they walk with considerable speed towards some hiding place, or to the nearest projecting ledge, beneath which they squat. When five or six weeks old, they take to the water, to ensure their escape, and swim with great buoyancy. If caught, they cry in the manner of their parents. On the 18th of June, several small ones were procured and placed on the deck of the Ripley, where they walked with ease and picked up the food thrown to them. As soon as one was about to swallow its portion, another would run up, seize it, tug at it, and if stronger, carry it off and devour it. On the 23d of that month, two individuals, several weeks old, and partly fledged, were also brought on board. Their notes, although feeble, perfectly resembled those of their parents. They ate greedily of every thing that was offered to them. When fatigued they sat with their tarsi placed on the ground and extended forward, in the manner of all the Herons, which gave them a very ludicrous appearance. Ere a month had elapsed, they appeared to have formed a complete acquaintance with the cook and several of the sailors, had become quite fat, and conducted themselves much like Vultures, for if a dead Duck, or even a Gull of their own species, were thrown to them, they would tear it in pieces, drink the blood, and swallow the flesh in large morsels, each trying to rob the others of what they had torn from the carcass. They never drank water, but not unfrequently washed the blood and filth from their bills, by immersing them and then shaking the head violently. These birds were fed until they were nearly able to fly. Now and then, the sailors would throw them overboard while we were in harbour. This seemed to gratify the birds as well as the sailors, for they would swim about, wash themselves, and dress their plumage, after which they would make for the sides, and would be taken on board. During a violent gale, one night, while we were at anchor in the harbour of Bras d’Or, our bark rolled heavily, and one of our pets went over the side and swam to the shore, where, after considerable search next day, it was found shivering by the lee of a rock. On being brought to its brothers, it was pleasant to see their mutual congratulations, which were extremely animated. Before we left the coast, they would sometimes fly of their own accord into the water to bathe, but could not return to the deck without assistance, although they endeavoured to do so. I had become much attached to them, and now and then thought they looked highly interesting, as they lay panting on their sides on the deck, although the thermometer did not rise above 55°. Their enmity to my son’s pointer was quite remarkable, and as that animal was of a gentle and kindly disposition, they would tease him, bite him, and drive him fairly from the deck into the cabin. A few days after leaving St George’s Bay in Newfoundland, we were assailed by a violent gale, and obliged to lie-to. Next day one of the Gulls was washed overboard. It tried to reach the vessel again, but in vain; the gale continued; the sailors told me the bird was swimming towards the shore, which was not so far off as we could have wished, and which it probably reached in safety. The other was given to my friend Lieutenant GREEN of the United States Army, at Eastport in Maine. In one of his letters to me the following winter, he said that the young _Larus marinus_ was quite a pet in the garrison, and doing very well, but that no perceptible change had taken place in its plumage.

On referring to my journal again, I find that while we were at anchor at the head of St George’s Bay, the sailors caught many codlings, of which each of our young Gulls swallowed daily two, measuring from eight to ten inches in length. It was curious to see them after such a meal: the form of the fish could be traced along the neck, which for a while they were obliged to keep stretched out; they gaped and were evidently suffering; yet they would not throw up the fish. About the time the young of this species are nearly able to fly, they are killed in considerable numbers on their breeding grounds, skinned and salted for the settlers and resident fishermen of Labrador and Newfoundland, at which latter place I saw piles of them. When they are able to shift for themselves, their parents completely abandon them, and old and young go separately in search of food.

The flight of the Great Black-backed Gull is firm, steady, at times elegant, rather swift, and long protracted. While travelling, it usually flies at the height of fifty or sixty yards, and proceeds in a direct course, with easy regulated flappings. Should the weather prove tempestuous, this Gull, like most others, skims over the surface of the waters or the land within a few yards or even feet, meeting the gale, but not yielding to it, and forcing its way against the strongest wind. In calm weather and sunshine, at all seasons of the year, it is fond of soaring to a great height, where it flies about leisurely and with considerable elegance for half an hour or so, in the manner of eagles, vultures, and ravens. Now and then, while pursuing a bird of its own species, or trying to escape from an enemy, it passes through the air with rapid boundings, which, however, do not continue long, and as soon as they are over it rises and slowly sails in circles. When man encroaches on its domains, it keeps over him at a safe distance, not sailing so much as moving to either side with continued flappings. To secure the fishes on which it more usually preys, it sweeps downwards with velocity, and as it glides over the spot, picks up its prey with its bill. If the fish be small, the Gull swallows it on wing, but if large, it either alights on the water, or flies to the nearest shore to devour it.

Although a comparatively silent bird for three-fourths of the year, the Great Black-backed Gull becomes very noisy at the approach of the breeding season, and continues so until the young are well fledged, after which it resumes its silence. Its common notes, when it is interrupted or surprised, sound like _cack, cack, cack_. While courting, they are softer and more lengthened, and resemble the syllables _cawah_, which are often repeated as it sails in circles or otherwise, within view of its mate or its place of abode.

This species walks well, moving firmly and with an air of importance. On the water it swims lightly but slowly, and may soon be overtaken by a boat. It has no power of diving, although at times, when searching for food along the shores, it will enter the water on seeing a crab or a lobster, to seize it, in which it at times succeeds. I saw one at Labrador plunge after a large crab in about two feet of water, when, after a tug, it hauled it ashore, where it devoured it in my sight. I watched its movements with a glass, and could easily observe how it tore the crab to pieces, swallowed its body, leaving the shell and the claws, after which it flew off to its young and disgorged before them.

It is extremely voracious, and devours all sorts of food excepting vegetables, even the most putrid carrion, but prefers fresh fish, young birds, or small quadrupeds, whenever they can be procured. It sucks the eggs of every bird it can find, thus destroying great numbers of them, as well as the parents, if weak or helpless. I have frequently seen these Gulls attack a flock of young Ducks while swimming beside their mother, when the latter, if small, would have to take to wing, and the former would all dive, but were often caught on rising to the surface, unless they happened to be among rushes. The Eider Duck is the only one of the tribe that risks her life, on such occasions, to save that of her young. She will frequently rise from the water, as her brood disappear beneath, and keep the Gull at bay, or harass it until her little ones are safe under some shelving rocks, when she flies off in another direction, leaving the enemy to digest his disappointment. But while the poor Duck is sitting on her eggs in any open situation, the marauder assails her, and forces her off, when he sucks the eggs in her very sight. Young Grous are also the prey of this Gull, which chases them over the moss-covered rocks, and devours them before their parents. It follows the shoals of fishes for hours at a time, and usually with great success. On the coast of Labrador, I frequently saw these birds seize flounders on the edges of the shallows; they often attempted to swallow them whole, but, finding this impracticable, removed to some rock, beat them, and tore them to pieces. They appear to digest feathers, bones, and other hard substances with ease, seldom disgorging their food, unless for the purpose of feeding their young or mates, or when wounded and approached by man, or when pursued by some bird of greater power. While at Boston in Massachusetts, one cold winter morning, I saw one of these Gulls take up an eel, about fifteen or eighteen inches in length, from a mud bank. The Gull rose with difficulty, and after some trouble managed to gulp the head of the fish, and flew towards the shore with it, when a White-headed Eagle made its appearance, and soon overtook the Gull, which reluctantly gave up the eel, on which the Eagle glided towards it, and, seizing it with its talons, before it reached the water, carried it off.

This Gull is excessively shy and vigilant, so that even at Labrador we found it difficult to procure it, nor did we succeed in obtaining more than about a dozen old birds, and that only by stratagem. They watched our movements with so much care as never to fly past a rock behind which one of the party might be likely to lie concealed. None were shot near the nests when they were sitting on their eggs, and only one female attempted to rescue her young, and was shot as she accidentally flew within distance. The time to surprise them was during violent gales, for then they flew close to the tops of the highest rocks, where we took care to conceal ourselves for the purpose. When we approached the rocky islets on which they bred, they left the place as soon as they became aware of our intentions, cackled and barked loudly, and when we returned, followed us at a distance more than a mile.

They begin to moult early in July. In the beginning of August the young were seen searching for food by themselves, and even far apart. By the 12th of that month they had all left Labrador. We saw them afterwards along the coast of Newfoundland, and while crossing the Gulf of St Lawrence, and found them over the bays of Nova Scotia, as we proceeded southward. When old, their flesh is tough and unfit for food. Their feathers are elastic, and good for pillows and such purposes, but can rarely be procured in sufficient quantity.

The most remarkable circumstance relative to these birds is, that they either associate with another species, giving rise to a hybrid brood, or that when very old they lose the dark colour of the back, which is then of the same tint as that of the _Larus argentatus_, or even lighter. This curious fact was also remarked by the young gentlemen who accompanied me to Labrador; and although it is impossible for me to clear up the doubts that may be naturally entertained on this subject, whichever of the two suppositions is adopted, the fact may yet be established and accounted for by persons who may have better opportunities of watching them and studying their habits. No individuals of _Larus argentatus_ were, to my knowledge, seen on that coast during the three months which I passed there, and the fishermen told us that the “saddle-backs were the only large Gulls that ever breed there.”

This bird must be of extraordinary longevity, as I have seen one that was kept in a state of captivity more than thirty years. The following very interesting account of the habits of a partially domesticated individual I owe to my esteemed and learned friend Dr NEILL of Edinburgh.

“In the course of the summer of 1818, a “big scorie” was brought to me by a Newhaven fisher-boy, who mentioned that it had been picked up at sea, about the mouth of the Frith of Forth. The bird was not then fully fledged: it was quite uninjured: it quickly learned to feed on potatoes and kitchen refuse, along with some ducks; and it soon became more familiar than they, often peeping in at the kitchen window in hopes of getting a bit of fat meat, which it relished highly. It used to follow my servant PEGGY OLIVER about the doors, expanding its wings and vociferating for food. After two moults I was agreeably surprised to find it assuming the dark plumage of the back, and the shape and colour of the bill of the _Larus marinus_, or Great Black-backed Gull; for I had hitherto regarded it as merely a large specimen of the Lesser Black-backed (_L. fuscus_), a pair of which I then possessed, but which had never allowed the new comer to associate with them. The bird being perfectly tame, we did not take the precaution of keeping the quills of one wing cut short, so as to prevent flight; indeed, as it was often praised as a remarkably large and noble looking Sea-maw, we did not like to disfigure it. In the winter 1821-2, it got a companion in a cock-heron, which had been wounded in Coldinghame Muir, brought to Edinburgh alive, and kept for some weeks in a cellar in the old College, and then presented to me by the late Mr JOHN WILSON, the janitor,—a person remarkably distinguished for his attachment to natural history pursuits. This Heron we succeeded in taming completely, and it still (1835) remains with me, having the whole garden to range in, the trees to roost upon, and access to the Loch at pleasure, the loch being the boundary of my garden. Some time in the spring of 1822, the large Gull was amissing; and we ascertained (in some way that has now escaped my memory) that it had not been stolen, nor killed, as we at first supposed, but had taken flight, passing northwards over the village, and had probably therefore gone to sea. Of course I gave up all expectation of ever hearing more of it. It was not without surprise, therefore, that on going home one day in the end of October of that year, I heard my servant calling out with great exultation, “Sir, Big Gull is come back!” I accordingly found him walking about in his old haunts in the garden, in company with, and recognising (as I am firmly persuaded) his old friend the Heron. He disappeared in the evening, and returned in the morning, for several days; when PEGGY OLIVER thought it best to secure him. He evidently did not like confinement, and it was concerted that he should be allowed his liberty, although he ran much risk of being shot on the mill-pond by youthful sportsmen from Edinburgh. After this temporary captivity, he was more cautious and shy than formerly; but still he made almost daily visits to the garden, and picked up herrings or other food laid down for him. In the beginning of March 1823 his visits ceased; and we saw no more of him till late in the autumn of that year. These winter visits to Canonmills, and summer excursions to the unknown breeding-place, were continued for years with great uniformity: only I remarked that after the Gull lost his protectress, who died in 1828[A], he became more distant in his manners. In my note-book, under date of 26th October 1829, I find this entry: ‘Old PEGGY’s Great Black-backed Gull arrived at the pond this morning, the seventh (or eighth) winter he has regularly returned. He had a scorie with him, which was soon shot on the loch, by some cockney sportsman.’ The young bird, doubtless one of his offspring, had its wing shattered, and continued alive in the middle of the pond, occasionally screaming piteously, for two or three days, till relieved by death. The old Gull immediately abandoned the place for that winter, as if reproaching us for cruelty. By next autumn, however, he seemed to have forgotten the injury; for, according to my record, ‘30th October 1830. The Great Black-backed Gull once more arrived at Canonmills garden.’ The periods of arrival, residence, and departure were nearly similar in the following year. But in 1832, not only October, but the months of November and December passed away without Gull’s making his appearance, and I of course despaired of again seeing him. He did, however, at length arrive. The following is the entry in my common-place book: ‘Sunday, 6th January 1833. This day the Great Black-back returned to the mill-pond, for (I think) the eleventh season. He used to re-appear in October in former years, and I concluded him dead or shot. He recognised my voice, and hovered over my head.’ He disappeared early in March as usual, and re-appeared at Canonmills on 23d December 1833, being a fortnight earlier than the date of his arrival in the preceding season, but six weeks later than the original period of re-appearance. He left in the beginning of March as usual, and I find from my notes that he ‘reappeared on 30th December 1834 for the season, first hovering around and then alighting on the pond as in former years.’ The latest entry is, ‘11th March 1835: The Black-backed Gull was here yesterday, but has not been seen to-day; nor do I expect to see him till November.’

[A] “PEGGY OLIVER was remarkable far the zeal and taste
she displayed in the domesticating of uncommon animals, as
well as in the culture of plants: her expertness in the
latter department is noticed and praised by Mr LOUDON in
his Gardener’s Magazine. Her funeral was attended by some of
the most distinguished naturalists here, and, among others,
by your friend Dr MACCULLOCH of Pictou, who happened to be
in Edinburgh at the time, and whose friendship I have also
the happiness to enjoy.”

“This Gull has often attracted the attention of persons passing the village of Canonmills, by reason of its sweeping along so low or near the ground, and on account of the wide expanse of wing which it thus displays. It is well known to the boys of the village as “NEILL’s Gull,” and has, I am aware, owed its safety more than once to their interference, in informing passing sportsmen of its history. When it first arrives in the autumn, it is in the regular habit of making many circular sweeps around the pond and garden, at a considerable elevation, as if reconnoitring; it then gradually lowers its flight, and gently alights about the centre of the pond. Upon the gardener’s mounting the garden-wall with a fish in his hand, the Gull moves towards the overhanging spray of some large willow-trees, so as to catch what may be thrown to him, before it sinks in the water. There can be no doubt whatever of the identity of the bird. Indeed, he unequivocally shews that he recognises my voice when I call aloud ‘Gull, Gull;’ for whether he be on wing or afloat, he immediately approaches me.