Chapter IX: Part 9

Come ye, goot people, von and all, Come listen to my song: A few remarks I have to make, Which vont be very long. ’Tis of our vessel stout and goot, As ever yet was built of woot, Along the reef where the breakers roar, De Wreckers on de Florida shore!

Key Tavernier’s our rendezvous; At anchor there we lie, And see the vessels in the Gulf, Carelessly passing by. When night comes on we dance and sing, Whilst the current some vessel is floating in; When day-light comes, a ship’s on shore, Among de rocks where de breakers roar.

When day-light dawns, we’re under weigh, And every sail is set, And if the wind it should prove light, Why then, our sails we wet. To gain her first each eager strives, To save de cargo and de people’s lives, Amongst de rocks where de breakers roar, De Wreckers on de Florida shore.

When we get ’longside, we find she’s bilged: We know vel vat to do, Save de cargo dat we can, De sails and rigging too; Den down to Key West we soon vill go, When quickly our salvage we shall know; When every ting it is fairly sold, Our money down to us it is told.

Den one week’s cruize we’ll have on shore, Before we do sail again, And drink success to de sailor lads Dat are ploughing of de main. And when you are passing by dis way, On the Florida Reef should you chance to stray, Why, we will come to you on de shore, Amongst de rocks where de breakers roar.

Great emphasis was laid upon particular words by the singer, who had a broad German accent. Between the verses he played a symphony, remarking, “Gentlemens, I makes dat myself.” The chorus was trolled by twenty or thirty voices, which, in the stillness of the night, produced no unpleasant effect.

THE MALLARD.

_ANAS BOSCHAS_, LINN.

PLATE CCXXI. MALES AND FEMALES.

Although it is commonly believed that the Mallard is found abundantly everywhere in the United States, I have received sufficient proof to the contrary. If authors had acknowledged that they state so on report, or had said that in the tame state the bird is common, I should not have blamed them. According to my observation, and I may be allowed to say that I have had good opportunities, this valuable species is extremely rare in the wild state, in the neighbourhood of Boston in Massachusetts; and in this assertion, I am supported by my talented and amiable friend Mr NUTTALL, who has resided there for many years. Farther eastward, this bird is so rare that it is scarcely known, and not one was seen by myself or my party beyond Portland in Maine. On the western coast of Labrador none of the inhabitants that we conversed with had ever seen the Mallard, and in Newfoundland the people were equally unacquainted with it, the species being in those countries replaced by the Black Duck, _Anas fusca_. From New York southward, the Mallards become more plentiful, and numbers of them are seen in the markets of Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond in Virginia, and other towns. Although they are very abundant in the Carolinas and Floridas, as well as in Lower Louisiana, they are much more so in the Western Country. The reason of this is merely that the Mallard, unlike the sea ducks, is rarely seen on salt water, and that its course from the countries where it chiefly breeds is across the interior of the continent. From our great lakes, they spread along the streams, betake themselves to the ponds, wet meadows, submersed savannahs, and inland swamps, and are even found in the thick beech woods, in early autumn, and indeed long before the males have acquired the dark green colour of the head. Many of them proceed beyond the limits of the United States.

It would be curious to know when this species was first domesticated; but, Reader, the solution of such a question is a task on which I shall not venture. In the domestic state every body knows the Mallard. When young it affords excellent food, and when old lays eggs. A bed made of its feathers is far preferable to the damp earth of the camp of an American woodsman, or the plank on which the trained soldier lays his wearied limbs at night. You may find many other particulars if you consult in chronological order all the compilers from ALDROVANDUS to the present day.

Be not startled, good Reader, when I tell you that many of these ducks are bred in the lakes near the Mississippi, nay even in some of the small ponds in the low lands or bottoms of the States of Kentucky, Indiana and Illinois; for in many parts of those districts I have surprised the females on their eggs, have caught the young when their mother was cautiously and with anxiety leading them for greater safety to some stream, and have shot many a fat one before the poor thing could fly, and when it was so plump, tender, and juicy, that I doubt much whether, you, like myself, should not much prefer them to the famed Canvass-backed Duck.

Look at that Mallard as he floats on the lake; see his elevated head glittering with emerald-green, his amber eyes glancing in the light! Even at this distance, he has marked you, and suspects that you bear no good will towards him, for he sees that you have a gun, and he has many a time been frightened by its report, or that of some other. The wary bird draws his feet under his body, springs upon them, opens his wings, and with loud quacks bids you farewell.

Now another is before you, on the margin of that purling streamlet. How brisk are all his motions compared with those of his brethren that waddle across your poultry-yard! how much more graceful in form and neat in apparel! The duck at home is the descendant of a race of slaves, and has lost his native spirit: his wings have been so little used that they can hardly raise him from the ground. But the free-born, the untamed duck of the swamps,—see how he springs on wing, and hies away over the woods.

The Mallards generally arrive in Kentucky and other parts of the Western Country, from the middle of September to the first of October, or as soon as the acorns and beech-nuts are fully ripe. In a few days they are to be found in all the ponds that are covered with seed-bearing grasses. Some flocks, which appear to be guided by an experienced leader, come directly down on the water with a rustling sound of their wings that can be compared only to the noise produced by an Eagle in the act of stooping upon its prey, while other flocks, as if they felt uneasy respecting the safety of the place, sweep around and above it several times in perfect silence, before they alight. In either case, the birds immediately bathe themselves, beat their bodies with their wings, dive by short plunges, and cut so many capers that you might imagine them to be stark mad. The fact, however, seems to be, that all this alacrity and gaiety only shews the necessity they feel of clearing themselves of the insects about their plumage, as well as the pleasure they experience on finding themselves in a milder climate, with abundance of food around them, after a hard journey of perhaps a day and a night. They wash themselves and arrange their dress, before commencing their meal; and in this other travellers would do well to imitate them.

Now, towards the grassy margins they advance in straggling parties. See how they leap from the water to bend the loaded tops of the tall reeds. Woe be to the slug or snail that comes in their way. Some are probing the mud beneath, and waging war against the leech, frog, or lizard, that is within reach of their bills; while many of the older birds run into the woods, to fill their crops with beech-nuts and acorns, not disdaining to swallow also, should they come in their way, some of the wood-mice that, frightened by the approach of the foragers, hie towards their burrows. The cackling they keep up would almost deafen you, were you near them; but it is suddenly stopped by the approach of some unusual enemy, and at once all are silent. With heads erected on out-stretched necks, they anxiously look around. It is nothing, however, but a bear, who being, like themselves, fond of mast, is ploughing up the newly fallen leaves with his muzzle, or removing an old rotting log in search of worms. The ducks resume their employment. But another sound is now heard, one more alarming. The bear raises himself on his hind legs, snuffs the air, and with a loud snort gallops off towards the depths of his cane-brake. The ducks retreat to the water, betake themselves to the centre of the pool, and uttering half-stifled notes await the sight of the object they dread. There the enemy cunningly advances first covered by one tree, then by another. He has lost his chance of the bear, but as he is pushed by hunger, a Mallard will do for the bullet of his rusty rifle. It is an Indian, as you perceive by his red skin and flowing black hair, which, however, has been cut close from the sides of his head. In the centre of his dearly purchased blanket, a hole has been cut, through which he has thrust his bare head, and the ragged garment, like a horse’s netting, is engaged as it were in flapping off the last hungry musquitoes of the season that are fast sucking the blood from his limbs. Watch him, Mallard, Nay, wait no longer, for I see him taking aim; better for you all to fly! No—well, one of you will certainly furnish him with a repast. Amid the dark wood rises the curling smoke, the report comes on my ear, the ducks all rise save a pair, that, with back downwards and feet kicking against the air, have been hit by the prowler. The free son of the forest slowly approaches the pool, judges at a glance of the depth of the mire, and boldly advances, until with a cane he draws the game towards him. Returning to the wood, he now kindles a little fire, the feathers fill the air around; from each wing he takes a quill, to clean the touch-hole of his gun in damp weather; the entrails he saves to bait some trap. In a short time the ducks are ready, and the hunter enjoys his meal, although brief time does he take in swallowing the savoury morsels. Soon, the glimmering light of the moon will see him again on his feet, and lead him through the woods, as he goes in pursuit of other game.

The Mallards that remain with us during the whole year, and breed on the banks of the Mississippi or Lake Michigan, or in the beautiful meadows that here and there border the Schuylkil in Pennsylvania, begin to pair in the very heart of winter; and although ducks are quite destitute of song, their courtships are not devoid of interest. The males, like other gay deceivers, offer their regards to the first fair one that attracts their notice, promise unremitting fidelity and affection, and repeat their offers to the next they meet. See that drake, how he proudly shews, first the beauty of his silky head, then the brilliancy of his wing-spots, and, with honeyed jabberings, discloses the warmth of his affection. He plays around this one, then around another, until the passion of jealousy is aroused in the breasts of the admired and flattered. Bickerings arise; the younger duck disdains her elder sister, and a third, who conceives herself a coquette of the first order, interposes, as if to ensure the caresses of the feathered beau. Many tricks are played by ducks, good Reader, but ere long, the females retire in search of a safe place in which they may deposit their eggs and rear their young. They draw a quantity of weed around them, and form an ill-arranged sort of nest, in which from seven to ten eggs are laid. From their bodies they pluck the softest down, and placing it beneath the eggs, begin the long process of incubation, which they intermit only for short periods, when it becomes absolutely necessary to procure a little sustenance.

At length, in about three weeks, the young began to cheep in the shell, from which, after a violent struggle, they make their escape. What beautiful creatures! See how, with their little bills, they dry their downy apparel! Now in a long line, one after another, they follow their glad mother to the water, on arriving at which they take to swimming and diving, as if elated with joy for having been introduced into existence. The male, wearied and emaciated, is far away on some other pond. The unnatural barbarian cares nothing about his progeny, nor has a thought arisen in his mind respecting the lonely condition of his mate, the greatness of her cares, or the sadness that she may experience under the idea that she has been utterly forsaken by him who once called her his only and truly beloved. No, Reader, not a thought of this kind has he wasted on her whom he has left alone in charge of a set of eggs, and now of a whole flock of innocent ducklings, to secure which from danger, and see them all grow up apace, she manifests the greatest care and anxiety. She leads them along the shallow edges of grassy ponds, and teaches them to seize the small insects that abound there, the flies, the musquitoes, the giddy beetles that skim along the surface in circles and serpentine lines. At the sight of danger they run as it were on the water, make directly for the shore, or dive and disappear. In about six weeks, those that have escaped from the ravenous fishes and turtles have attained a goodly size; the quills appear on their wings; their bodies are encased with feathers; but as yet none are able to fly. They now procure their food by partial immersions of the head and neck in the manner of the old bird. At this period they are already fit for the table, and delicate as well as savoury food they afford. By the time that the leaves are changing their hues, the young Mallards take freely to their wings, and the old males join the congregated flocks.

The Squatters of the Mississippi raise a considerable number of Mallards, which they catch when quite young, and which, after the first year, are as tame as they can wish. These birds raise broods which are superior even to those of the wild ones, for a year or two, after which they become similar to the ordinary ducks of the poultry-yard. The hybrids produced between the Mallard and the Muscovy Duck are of great size, and afford excellent eating. Some of these half-breeds now and then wander off, become quite wild, and have by some persons been considered as forming a distinct species. They also breed, when tame, with the Black Duck (_Anas fusca_) and the Gadwal, the latter connection giving rise to a very handsome hybrid, retaining the yellow feet and barred plumage of the one, and the green head of the other parent.

I have found the Mallard breeding on large prostrate and rotten logs, three feet above the ground, and in the centre of a cane-brake, nearly a mile distant from any water. Once I found a female leading her young through the woods, and no doubt conducting them towards the Ohio. When I first saw her, she had already observed me, and had squatted flat among the grass, with her brood around her. As I moved onwards, she ruffled her feathers, and hissed at me in the manner of a goose, while the little ones scampered off in all directions. I had an excellent dog, well instructed to catch young birds without injuring them, and I ordered him to seek for them. On this the mother took to wing, and flew through the woods as if about to fall down at every yard or so. She passed and repassed over the dog, as if watching the success of his search; and as one after another the ducklings were brought to me, and struggled in my bird-bag, the distressed parent came to the ground near me, rolled and tumbled about, and so affected me by her despair, that I ordered my dog to lie down, while, with a pleasure that can be felt only by those who are parents themselves, I restored to her the innocent brood, and walked off. As I turned round to observe her, I really thought I could perceive gratitude expressed in her eye; and a happier moment I never felt while rambling in search of knowledge through the woods.

In unfrequented parts, the Mallards feed both by day and by night; but in places where they are much disturbed by gunners, they feed mostly by night, or towards evening and about sunrise. In extremely cold weather, they betake themselves to the sources of streams, and even to small springs, where they may be found along with the American Snipe. At times, after heavy falls of rain, they are seen searching for ground-worms over the corn-fields, and during the latter part of autumn, the rice plantations of Georgia and the Carolinas afford them excellent pasture grounds. I have thought indeed that at this season these birds perform a second migration as it were, for they then pour into the rice-fields by thousands from the interior. In the Floridas, they are at times seen in such multitudes as to darken the air, and the noise they make in rising from off a large submersed savannah, is like the rumbling of thunder. So numerous were the Mallards while I was at General HERNANDEZ’s in East Florida, that a single Negro whom that gentleman kept as a hunter, would shoot from fifty to a hundred and twenty in a day, thus supplying the plantation with excellent food.

The flight of the Mallard is swift, strong, and well sustained. It rises either from the ground or from the water at a single spring, and flies almost perpendicularly for ten or fifteen yards, or, if in a thick wood, until quite above the tops of the tallest trees, after which it moves horizontally. If alarmed, it never rises without uttering several _quacks_; but on other occasions it usually leaves its place in silence. While travelling to any distance; the whistling sound of their wings may be heard a great way off, more especially in the quiet of night. Their progress through the air I have thought might be estimated at a mile and a half in the minute; and I feel very confident that when at full speed and on a long journey, they can fly at the rate of a hundred and twenty miles in the hour.

The Mallard is truly omnivorous, its food consisting of every thing that can possibly satisfy the cravings of its extraordinary appetite. Nor is it at all cleanly in this respect, for it will swallow any kind of offals, and feed on all sorts of garbage, even putrid fish, as well as on snakes and small quadrupeds. Nuts and fruits of all kinds are dainties to it, and it soon fattens on rice, corn, or any other grain. My friend JOHN BACHMAN, who usually raises a great number of Mallards every year, has the young fed on chopped fish, on which they thrive uncommonly well. So very greedy are these birds, that I have often observed a couple of them tugging for a long time against each other for the skin of an eel, which was already half swallowed by the one, while the other was engaged at the opposite end. They are expert fly-catchers, and are in the habit of patting with their feet the damp earth, to force ground-worms out of their burrows.

Besides man, the enemies of the Mallard are the White-headed Eagle, the Snowy Owl, the Virginian Owl, the racoon, the lynx, and the snapping turtle. Mallards are easily caught by snares, steel-traps baited with corn, and figure-of-four traps. As we have no decoys in the United States, I shall not trouble you with a new edition of the many accounts you will find in ornithological books of that destructive method of procuring Wild Ducks.

The eggs of this species measure two inches and a quarter in length, one inch and five-eighths in breadth. The shell is smooth, and of a plain light dingy green. They are smaller than those of the tame duck, and rarely so numerous. As soon as incubation commences, the males associate together in flocks, until the young are able to migrate. This species raises only one brood in the season, and I never found its nest with eggs in autumn. The female covers her eggs before she leaves them to go in search of food, and thus keeps them sufficiently warm until her return.

ANAS BOSCHAS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 205.—_Lath._
Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 850.—_Ch. Bonaparte_, Synopsis of
Birds of the United States, p. 383.

MALLARD, ANAS BOSCHAS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. viii. p.
112. pl. 70. fig. 7.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 378.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXI. Fig. 1. 1.

Bill about the length of the head, higher than broad at the base, depressed and widened towards the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line sloping and a little concave, the ridge at the base broad and flat, towards the end broadly convex, as are the sides, the edges soft and rather obtuse, the marginal lamellæ transverse, fifty on each side; the unguis oval, curved, abrupt at the end. Nasal groove elliptical, subbasal, filled by the soft membrane of the bill; nostrils subbasal, placed near the ridge, longitudinal, elliptical, pervious. Lower mandible slightly curved upwards, with the angle very long, narrow, and rather pointed, the lamellæ about sixty.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed; neck rather long and slender; body full, depressed. Feet short, stout, placed a little behind the centre of the body; legs bare a little above the joint; tarsus short, a little compressed, anteriorly with small scutella, laterally and behind with reticulated angular scales. Hind toe extremely small, with a very narrow membrane; third toe longest, fourth a little shorter, but longer than second; all the toes covered above with numerous oblique scutella; the three anterior connected by reticulated membranes, the outer with a thick margin, the inner with the margin extended into a slightly lobed web. Claws small, arched, compressed, rather acute, that of the middle toe much larger, with a dilated, thin, inner edge.

Plumage dense, soft, and elastic; of the head and neck short, blended, and splendent; of the other parts in general broad and rounded. Wings of moderate length, acute; primaries narrow and tapering, the second longest, the first very little shorter; secondaries broad, curved inwards, the inner elongated and tapering. Tail short, much rounded, of sixteen acute feathers, of which the four central are recurved.

Bill greenish-yellow. Iris dark brown. Feet orange-red. Head and upper part of neck deep green, a ring of white about the middle of the neck; lower part of the neck anteriorly, and fore part of breast, dark brownish-chestnut; fore part of back light yellowish-brown, tinged with grey; the rest of the back brownish-black, the rump black, splendent with green and purplish-blue reflections, as are the recurved tail-feathers. Upper surface of wings greyish-brown, the scapulars lighter except their inner webs, and with the anterior dorsal feathers minutely undulated with brown. The speculum on about ten of the secondaries is of brilliant changing purple and green, edged with velvet-black and white, the anterior bands of black and white being on the secondary coverts. Breast, sides, and abdomen, very pale grey, minutely undulated with darker; lower tail-coverts black with blue reflections.

Length to the end of the tail 24 inches, to the end of the claws 23, to the tips of the wings 22; extent of wings 36; wing from flexure 10-1/2; tail 4-1/4; bill 2-2/12; tarsus 1-3/4; middle toe 2-2/12, its claw 5/12. Weight from 2-1/2 to 3 lb.

Adult Female. Plate CCXXI. Figs. 2. 2.

Bill black in the middle, dull orange at the extremities and along the edges. Iris as in the male, as are the feet. The general colour of the upper parts is pale yellowish-brown, streaked and spotted with dusky brown. The feathers of the head narrowly streaked, of the back with the margin and a central streak yellowish-brown, the rest dark, of the scapulars similar, but with the light streak on the outer web. The wings are nearly as in the male, the speculum similar, but with less green. The lower parts dull ochre, deeper on the lower neck, and spotted with brown.

Length 22 inches. Weight from 2 lb. to 2-1/2.

The Young acquire the full plumage in the course of the first winter.

THE WHITE IBIS.

_IBIS ALBA_, VIEILL.

PLATE CCXXII. ADULT MALE, AND YOUNG.

Sandy Island, of which I have already spoken in my second volume, is remarkable as a breeding-place for various species of water and land birds. It is about a mile in length, not more than a hundred yards broad, and in form resembles a horse-shoe, the inner curve of which looks toward Cape Sable in Florida, from which it is six miles distant. At low water, it is surrounded to a great distance by mud flats abounding in food for wading and swimming birds, while the plants, the fruits, and the insects of the island itself, supply many species that are peculiar to the land. Besides the White Ibis, we found breeding there the Brown Pelican, the Purple, the Louisiana, the White, and the Green Herons, two species of Gallinule, the Cardinal Grosbeak, Crows, and Pigeons. The vegetation consists of a few tall mangroves, thousands of wild plum trees, several species of cactus, some of them nearly as thick as a man’s body, and more than twenty feet high, different sorts of smilax, grape-vines, cane, palmettoes, Spanish bayonets, and the rankest nettles I ever saw,—all so tangled together, that I leave you to guess how difficult it was for my companions and myself to force a passage through them in search of birds’ nests, which, however, we effected, although the heat was excessive, and the stench produced by the dead birds, putrid eggs, and the natural effluvia of the Ibises, was scarcely sufferable. But then, the White Ibis was there, and in thousands; and, although I already knew the bird, I wished to study its manners once more, that I might be enabled to present you with an account of them, which I now proceed to do,—endeavouring all the while to forget the pain of the numerous scratches and lacerations of my legs caused by the cactuses of Sandy Island.

As we entered that well-known place, we saw nests on every bush, cactus, or tree. Whether the number was one thousand or ten I cannot say, but this I well know:—I counted forty-seven on a single plum-tree. These nests of the White Ibis measure about fifteen inches in their greatest diameter, and are formed of dry twigs intermixed with fibrous roots and green branches of the trees growing on the island, which this bird easily breaks with its bill; the interior, which is flat, being finished with leaves of the cane and some other plants. The bird breeds only once in the year, and the full number of its eggs is three. They measure two inches and a quarter in length, with a diameter of one inch and five-eighths, are rough to the touch, although not granulated, of a dull white colour, blotched with pale yellow, and irregularly spotted with deep reddish-brown. They afford excellent eating, although when boiled they do not look inviting, the white resembling a livid-coloured jelly, and the yolk being of a reddish-orange, the former wonderfully transparent, instead of being opaque like that of most other birds. The eggs are deposited from the 10th of April to the 1st of May, and incubation is general by the 10th of the latter month. The young birds, which are at first covered with thick down of a dark grey colour, are fed by regurgitation. They take about five weeks to be able to fly, although they leave the nest at the end of three weeks, and stand on the branches, or on the ground, waiting the arrival of their parents with food, which consists principally of small fiddler crabs and crayfish. On some occasions, I have found them at this age miles away from the breeding-places, and in this state they are easily caught. As soon as the young are able to provide for themselves, the old birds leave them, and the different individuals are then seen searching for food apart. While nestling or in the act of incubating, these Ibises are extremely gentle and unwary, unless they may have been much disturbed, for they almost allow you to touch them on the nest. The females are silent all the while, but the males evince their displeasure by uttering sounds which greatly resemble those of the White-headed Pigeon, and which may be imitated by the syllables _crooh, croo, croo_. The report of a gun scarcely alarms them at first, although at all other periods these birds are shy and vigilant in the highest degree.

The change in the colouring of the bill, legs, and feet of this bird, that takes place in the breeding-season, is worthy of remark, the bill being then of a deep orange red, and the legs and feet of a red nearly amounting to carmine. The males at this season have the gular pouch of a rich orange colour, and somewhat resembling in shape that of the Frigate Pelican, although proportionally less. During winter, these parts are of a dull flesh colour. The irides also lose much of their clear blue, and resume in some degree the umber colour of the young birds. I am thus particular in these matters, because it is doubtful if any one else has ever paid attention to them.

While breeding, the White Ibises go to a great distance in search of food for their young, flying in flocks of several hundreds. Their excursions take place at particular periods, determined by the decline of the tides, when all the birds that are not sitting go off, perhaps twenty or thirty miles, to the great mud flats, where they collect abundance of food, with which they return the moment the tide begins to flow. As the birds of this genus feed by night as well as by day, the White Ibis attends the tides at whatever hour they may be. Some of those which bred on Sandy Key would go to the keys next the Atlantic, more than forty miles distant, while others made for the Ever Glades; but they never went off singly. They rose with common accord from the breeding-ground, forming themselves into long lines, often a mile in extent, and soon disappeared from view. Soon after the turn of the tide we saw them approaching in the same order. Not a note could you have heard on those occasions; yet if you disturb them when far from their nests, they utter loud hoarse cries resembling the syllables _hunk, hunk, hunk_, either while on the ground or as they fly off.

The flight of the White Ibis is rapid and protracted. Like all other species of the genus, these birds pass through the air with alternate flappings and sailings; and I have thought that the use of either mode depended upon the leader of the flock, for, with the most perfect regularity, each individual follows the motion of that preceding it, so that a constant appearance of regular undulations is produced through the whole line. If one is shot at this time, the whole line is immediately broken up, and for a few minutes all is disorder; but as they continue their course, they soon resume their former arrangement. The wounded bird never attempts to bite or to defend itself in any manner, although, if only winged, it runs off with more speed than is pleasant to its pursuer.

At other times the White Ibis, like the Red and the Wood Ibises, rises to an immense height in the air, where it performs beautiful evolutions. After they have thus, as it were, amused themselves for some time, they glide down with astonishing speed, and alight either on trees or on the ground. Should the sun be shining, they appear in their full beauty, and the glossy black tips of their wings form a fine contrast with the yellowish-white of the rest of their plumage.

This species is as fond of resorting to the ponds, bayous, or lakes that are met with in the woods, as the Wood Ibis itself. I have found it breeding there at a distance of more than three hundred miles from the sea, and remaining in the midst of the thickest forests until driven off to warmer latitudes by the approach of winter. This is the case in the State of Mississippi, not far from Natchez, and in all the swampy forests around Bayou Sara and Pointe Coupée, as well as the interior of the Floridas. When disturbed in such places, these Ibises fly at once to the tops of the tallest trees, emitting their hoarse _hunk_, and watch your motions with so much care that it is extremely difficult to get within shot of them.

The manner in which this bird searches for its food is very curious. The Woodcock and the Snipe, it is true, are probers as well as it, but their task requires less ingenuity than is exercised by the White or the Red Ibis. It is also true that the White Ibis frequently seizes on small crabs, slugs and snails, and even at times on flying insects; but its usual mode of procuring food is a strong proof that cunning enters as a principal ingredient in its instinct. The Cray-fish often burrows to the depth of three or four feet in dry weather, for before it can be comfortable it must reach the water. This is generally the case during the prolonged heats of summer, at which time the White Ibis is most pushed for food. The bird, to procure the Cray-fish, walks with remarkable care towards the mounds of mud which the latter throws up while forming its hole, and breaks up the upper part of the fabric, dropping the fragments into the deep cavity that has been made by the animal. Then the Ibis retires a single step, and patiently waits the result. The Cray-fish, incommoded by the load of earth, instantly sets to work anew, and at last reaches the entrance of its burrow; but the moment it comes in sight, the Ibis seizes it with his bill.

Whilst at Indian Key, I observed an immense quantity of beautiful tree snails, of a pyramidal or shortly conical form, some pure white, others curiously marked with spiral lines of bright red, yellow and black. They were crawling vigorously on every branch of each bush where there was not a nest of the White Ibis; but wherever that bird had fixed its habitation, not a live snail was to be seen, although hundreds lay dead beneath. Was this caused by the corrosive quality of the bird’s ordure?

There is a curious though not altogether general difference between the sexes of this species as to the plumage:—the male has five of its primaries tipped with glossy black for several inches, while the female, which is very little smaller than the male, has only four marked in this manner. On examining more than a hundred individuals of each sex, I found only four exceptions, which occurred in females that were very old birds, and which, as happens in some other species, might perhaps have been undergoing the curious change exhibited by ducks, pheasants, and some other birds, the females of which when old sometimes assume the livery of the males.

Much, as you are aware, good Reader, has been said respecting the “oil bags” of birds. I dislike controversy, simply because I never saw the least indications of it in the ways of the Almighty Creator. Should I err, forgive me, but my opinion is, that these organs were not made without an object. Why should they consist of matter so conveniently placed, and so disposed as to issue under the least pressure, through apertures in the form of well defined tubes? The White Ibis, as well as the Wood Ibis, and all the other species of this genus, when in full health, has these oil bags of great size, and, if my eyes have not deceived me, makes great use of their contents. Should you feel anxious to satisfy yourself on this subject, I request of you to keep some Ibises alive for several weeks, as I have done, and you will have an opportunity of judging. And again, tell me if the fat contained in these bags is not the very best _lip-salve_ that can be procured.

When any species of Ibis with which I am acquainted falls into the water on being wounded, it swims tolerably well; but I have never observed any taking to the water and swimming either by choice or to escape pursuit. While in the company of Mr JOSEPH MASON, a young man who was for some time employed by me, and who has drawn plants to some of my birds, although not so successfully as my amiable friend Miss MARTIN, or GEORGE LEHMAN, who finish those they draw as beautifully as my learned and valued friend WILLIAM MACGILLIVRAY of Edinburgh does his faithful drawings of birds, I chanced one morning to be on the look-out for White Ibises, in a delightful swamp not many miles from Bayou Sara. It was in the end of summer, and all around was pure and calm as the clear sky, the bright azure of which was reflected by the lake before us. The trees had already exchanged the verdure of their foliage for more mellow tints of diversified hue; the mast dropped from the boughs; some of the Warblers had begun to think of removing farther south; the Night Hawk, in company with the Chimney Swallow, was passing swiftly towards the land of their winter residence, and the Ibises had all departed for the Florida coasts, excepting a few of the white species, one of which we at length espied. It was perched about fifty yards from us towards the centre of the pool, and as the report of one of our guns echoed among the tall cypresses, down to the water, broken-winged, it fell. The exertions which it made to reach the shore seemed to awaken the half-torpid alligators that lay in the deep mud at the bottom of the pool. One shewed his head above the water, then a second and a third. All gave chase to the poor wounded bird, which, on seeing its dreaded and deadly foes, made double speed towards the very spot where we stood. I was surprised to see how much faster the bird swam than the reptiles, who, with jaws widely opened, urged their heavy bodies through the water. The Ibis was now within a few yards of us. It was the alligator’s last chance. Springing forward as it were, he raised his body almost out of the water; his jaws nearly touched the terrified bird; when pulling three triggers at once, we lodged the contents of our guns in the throat of the monster. Thrashing furiously with his tail, and rolling his body in agony, the alligator at last sunk to the mud; and the Ibis, as if in gratitude, walked to our very feet, and there lying down, surrendered itself to us. I kept this bird until the succeeding spring, and by care and good nursing, had the pleasure of seeing its broken wing perfectly mended, when, after its long captivity, I restored it to liberty, in the midst of its loved swamps and woods.

The young bird of this species which I kept alive for some time, fed freely, after a few days captivity, on soaked Indian corn meal, but evinced great pleasure when cray-fishes were offered to it. On seizing one, it beat it sideways on the ground, until the claws and legs were broken off, after which it swallowed the body whole. It was fond of lying on its side in the sun for an hour or so at a time, pluming its body and nursing the sore wing. It walked lightly and very gracefully, though not so much so as the Herons. It did not molest its companions, and became very gentle and tame, following those who fed it like a common fowl.

The Creoles of Louisiana call this species “_Bee croche_,” and also “_Petit Flaman_,” though it is also generally known by the name of “Spanish Curlew.” The flesh, which, as well as the skin, is of a dull orange colour, is extremely fishy, although the birds are often sold in our southernmost markets, and are frequently eaten by the Indians.

The White Ibis has been shot eastward as far as New Jersey. Of this I have been made aware by my generous friend EDWARD HARRIS, Esq. I never saw one farther up the Mississippi than Memphis.

TANTALUS ALBUS, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 242.—_Lath._
Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 705.

WHITE IBIS, TANTALUS ALBUS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. viii.
p. 43. pl. 66. fig. 3.—_Nuttall_, Manual, vol. ii. p. 86.

IBIS ALBA, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United
States, p. 312.

Adult Male. Plate CCXXII. Fig. 1.

Bill very long, slender, deeper than broad, compressed, tapering, arcuate, obtuse at the tip. Upper mandible with the dorsal line arched in its whole length, the ridge convex, broader towards the end, the sides at the base nearly erect, towards the end very convex and narrow, the ridge separated in its whole length from the sides by a deep narrow groove, the edges inflected and sharp. Nostrils basal, dorsal, linear, direct. Lower mandible nearly equal to upper, its angle very narrow, and protracted in the form of a groove to the tip, the sides convex, the edges sharp, but strong.

Head small, compressed; neck long and slender; body slender, deeper than broad; wings rather large. Feet very long, slender; tibiæ long, bare about half their length, and covered all round with hexagonal scales; tarsi long, slender, anteriorly covered with numerous broad scutella, the rest with hexagonal scales; toes slender, the first much smaller, the third longest, the fourth considerably shorter, the second very little shorter than the fourth, all covered above with numerous scutella, laterally with angular scales, beneath flattened with thick soft margins; the anterior connected at the base by membranes, of which the outer is longer; claws small, arched, compressed, obtuse, the middle one with a sharp thin edge.

Head and throat bare to beyond the eyes, as are the tibiæ nearly half way up. Plumage in general soft, unglossed, the feathers rather blended, those of the head and neck narrow and more blended. Wings long, ample, some of the secondaries as long as the longest primary when the wings are closed; third quill longest, but second and fourth almost as long, first longer than fifth; secondaries broad and rounded. Tail short, slightly emarginate and rounded, of twelve rounded feathers.

Bare parts of the head light orange-red; bill the same, but towards the tip dusky. Iris of a fine pearly blue. Legs and toes paler than the bill; claws dusky, tipped with horn colour. Plumage pure white, excepting the ends of from three to five of the outer primaries, which are deep black, with blue and green reflexions.

Length to end of tail 24-1/2 inches, to end of wings 27, to end of claws 31-1/2; extent of wings 40; wing from flexure 12-1/2; tail 4-3/4; bill along the back 5-1/4, along the edge 5-3/4; bare space of tibia 1-3/4, tarsus 3-1/4, middle toe 2-1/8, its claw 3/8. Weight 2 lb.

The adults vary considerably in size, and remarkably in the length of the bill. The extent of the bare space on the head varies according to age. In the breeding season the bill and legs are bright carmine; during the rest of the year paler.

Young bird killed in September. Plate CCXXII. Fig. 2.

In its first plumage this species is of a dull brown colour all over, excepting the rump, which is whitish, and the tail, which is tinged with grey.

After the first moult, the bill is pale yellowish-orange, toward the base greenish; the naked parts of the head are pale orange-yellow, inclining to flesh-colour; the eye dark brown; the feet pale blue. The plumage is of a dull olivaceous brown, the quills darker, the tail rather lighter, the hind part of the back white, the breast and abdomen white.

The Crayfish represented in the plate will be found described in the article entitled “the White Perch and its favourite bait.”

THE AMERICAN OYSTER-CATCHER.

_HÆMATOPUS PALLIATUS_, TEMM.

PLATE CCXXIII. MALE.

Our Oyster-Catcher has a very extensive range. It spends the winter along the coast from Maryland to the Gulf of Mexico, and being then abundant on the shores of the Floridas, may be considered a constant resident in the United States. At the approach of spring, it removes toward the Middle States, where, as well as in North Carolina, it breeds. It seems scarcer between Long Island and Portland in Maine, where you again see it, and whence it occurs all the way to Labrador, in which country I found that several were breeding in the month of July. Unless in winter, when these birds assemble in parties of twenty-five or thirty individuals, they are seldom met with in greater numbers than from one to four pairs, with their families, which appear to remain with the parent birds until the following spring. It is never found inland, nor even far up our largest rivers, but is fond of remaining at all times on the sandy beaches and rocky shores of our salt-water bays or marshes. In Labrador, I met with it farther from the open sea than in any other part, yet always near salt-water. I have never met with any other species on the coasts of North America.

Shy, vigilant, and ever on the alert, the Oyster-Catcher walks with a certain appearance of dignity, greatly enhanced by its handsome plumage and remarkable bill. If you stop to watch it, that instant it sounds a loud shrill note of alarm; and should you advance farther towards it, when it has neither nest nor young, off it flies quite out of sight. Few birds, indeed, are more difficult to be approached, and the only means of studying its habits I found to be the use of an excellent telescope, with which I could trace its motions when at the distance of a quarter of a mile, and pursuing its avocations without apprehension of danger. In this manner I have seen it probe the sand to the full length of its bill, knock off limpets from the rocks on the coast of Labrador, using its weapon sideways and insinuating it between the rock and the shell like a chisel, seize the bodies of gaping oysters on what are called in the Southern States and the Floridas “Racoon oyster beds,” and at other times take up a “razor-handle” or solen, and lash it against the sands until the shell was broken and the contents swallowed. Now and then they seem to suck the sea-urchins, driving in the mouth, and introducing their bill by the aperture, without breaking the shell; again they are seen wading up to their bodies from one place to another, seizing on shrimps and other crustacea, and even swimming for a few yards, should this be necessary to enable them to remove from one bank to another without flying. Small crabs, fiddlers, and sea-worms, are also caught by it, the shells of which in a broken state I have found in its gizzard in greater or less quantity. Frequently, while on wet sea-beaches, it pats the sand, to force out the insects; and in one instance I saw an individual run from the water to the dry sand, with a small flounder in its bill, which it afterwards devoured.

This bird forms no regular nest, but is contented with scratching the dry sand above high-water mark, so as to form a slight hollow, in which it deposits its eggs. On the coast of Labrador, and in the Bay of Fundy, it lays its eggs on the bare rock. When the eggs are on sand, it seldom sits on them during the heat of the sun; but in Labrador, it was found sitting as closely as any other bird. Here, then, is another instance of the extraordinary difference of habit in the same bird under different circumstances. It struck me so much that had I not procured a specimen in Labrador, and another in our Middle Districts, during the breeding season, and found them on the closest examination to be the same, I should perhaps have thought the birds different. Everywhere, however, I observed that this bird is fond of places covered with broken shells and drifted sea-weeds or grasses, as a place of security for its eggs, and where, in fact, it is no very easy matter to discover them. The eggs are two or three, measure two inches and one-eighth in length, by an inch and a half in breadth, and are of the form of those of a common hen. They are of a pale cream colour, spotted with irregular marks of brownish-black, and others of a paler tint, pretty equally dispersed all over. The birds, even when not sitting on them, are so very anxious about them, that on the least appearance of an enemy, they scream out loudly, and if you approach the nest, fly over and around you, although always at a considerable distance. When you meet with the young, which run as soon as they are hatched, the old birds manifest the greatest anxiety. They run before you, or fly around you, with great swiftness, and emit peculiar notes, which at once induce their little ones to squat among the sand and broken shells, where, on account of their dull greyish-colour, it is very difficult to see them unless you pass within a foot or two of them, when they run off emitting a plaintive note, which renders the parents doubly angry. Their shape is now almost round, and the streaks of their back and rump, as well as the curved points of their bills, might induce you to believe them to be any thing but the young of an Oyster-Catcher. I have caught some, which I thought were more than a month old, and yet were unable to fly, although full feathered. They appeared weakened by their fatness, and were overtaken by running after them on the sands. There were no parent birds near or in sight of them; yet I much doubt if they procured their own food at this period, and have more reason to believe that, like some other species of birds, they were visited and supplied with food at particular hours of the day or of the night, as is the case with Herons and Ibises, for the Oyster-Catcher is scarcely nocturnal.

By the beginning of October these birds return to the south. I saw them at Labrador until the 11th of August, but cannot say at what period they leave that country. When wounded while wading or on the shore, they make for the water, on which they float buoyantly and move with ease.