Part 12

We mention, in this connection, a very fine nest of this species, which has lately come into our possession, through the kindness of Prof. Evermann, of Indiana. This nest was suspended from a branch of the live oak, and was discovered on the fifteenth of April, 1880. It is largely composed of down, grass-stems and spears of the same, lichens, mosses, vegetable down and cotton, on the outside, and is comfortably lined with the down and wool of plants. In structure and composition it resembles all other nests of this species, but differs therefrom in form and dimensions. This beautiful fabric measures twenty-two inches in length, and is somewhat shaped like an elongated spindle. It is three inches wide in the middle, one and a half at the summit, and two and a half at the base. The opening is three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and placed fully five inches from the top of the nest. From the entrance to the bottom of the chamber, the cavity does not perceptibly widen, but maintains the width at the mouth. This affects the thickness of the walls, which is greatest in the middle, and least above. But owing to their elasticity, they can be made to conform to the volume of either occupant. The depth of the cavity is twelve inches. When we consider the size of this nest, it does not seem possible that such diminutive specimens of bird-life could have the enterprise and courage to enter into such a gigantic project, and the patience and perseverance to carry it to completion. Prof. Evermann does not inform us whether it was accomplished by the pair of occupants, or by them with the assistance of others. Even the ordinary structure is so wondrously large compared with the individual bulk of the builders, as to suggest to the mind of Dr. Cooper the possibility of its being the result of the united labors of an entire flock. What would our worthy friend say should he meet with another just like the one we have described? We think he would be inclined to attribute it to the labor of several flocks, or else imagine it the work of supernatural beings. Such disparity as exists between the cyclopean monument before us and the pigmy architects thereof, would almost persuade us to one or the other conclusion.

From information gleaned from the recorded observations of others, and from personal knowledge of closely-related species, we incline to the opinion that these birds manifest a great fondness for their homes, and guard them with the most jealous care. Nuttall makes mention of a circumstance occurring under his notice, which confirms this belief. During one of his excursions, he met with a male-bird, whose overanxiety about the safety of the nest induced him to keep a lookout for anything that might happen. Following his guide, who, though unwilling to expose its whereabouts, was driven to it by an irresistible influence, he came to a low bush, where, dangling from a branch, and only about four feet from the ground, flashed upon his vision the lovely spectacle. It was a beautiful affair, in shape like a long purse, and having a neat circular opening near the top which answered for a doorway. The lint of plants, moss and down entered into its manufacture, and within there was a soft lining of feathers. This nest contained six perfectly white treasures, which were only awaiting the mysterious and miraculous powers of a few more days, perhaps hours, of heat, to transform them into restless, active, yet helpless beings. When a bird is killed, we are told, others will gather around it with manifestations of anxiety, calling plaintively upon it to follow them in their sports and wanderings. So fearless do they become at such times that it is almost possible to take them by the hand. Assuredly, such exhibitions of sorrow and solicitude as we have depicted, are not only to be met with then, but also, to an infinitely greater extent, on those more trying occasions when their homes are about being desecrated and despoiled by sacrilegious hands.

The eggs of the Least Tit are quite small, beautifully oval in shape, and of a pure, unspotted white color. They slightly vary in dimensions. In a set of five which we have before us, the largest measures .57 of an inch in length, and .44 in width; the smallest, .56 by .45 inches. The average measurement is .57 by .44 of an inch. The number of eggs constituting a complement ranges from five to nine. Nothing has been stated in regard to the number of broods annually raised, but it is probable the species is single-brooded.

Plate XXIII.--CAPRIMULGUS VOCIFERUS, Wilson.--Whippoorwill.

|The Whippoorwill, in its migrations, passes from Mexico, Guatemala, and, perhaps, Cuba, through the eastern parts of the United States, northward into the British Provinces as far as the 50th parallel of latitude, and from the Atlantic westward to the valley of the Missouri, where it is replaced by a closely-allied species. Throughout New England, the Middle States, and the Southern Atlantic region, the Carolinas especially, it is rather abundant, and the same may be affirmed of the western limits of its range. In New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, lying outside of our possessions, it is met with but rarely; whereas, in the vicinity of Montreal, and around Hamilton, it is far from being an uncommon summer visitor. There seems to be a notable scarcity of birds in Eastern Maine as we approach the Canadian territory in the north-east. Why the species should dwindle into numbers insignificant as the seaboard is neared, while in the contrary direction it is apparently as abundant as in Pennsylvania, it is not our province to speak with positiveness. Perhaps the somewhat different conditions of soil and climate which prevail in the north-west have much to do with this seeming preference. Unlike most species, the subject of our sketch will, doubtless, when its history has been as carefully studied in every part of its habitat as it has been in the East, be found to breed throughout the vast area of its United States range.

These birds never arrive in old, familiar haunts until the weather has assumed the mild, placid demeanor of spring, and everything points to the complete vanquishment of the winter-god and his merciless hordes of invaders. A chorus of strange, weird voices from the solemn depths of the forest-shades, when night has thrown her sable curtain o'er earthly landscapes, is the first reminder that we have of their mysterious presence. Like an evil genius from the land of dreams they come among us to disturb our slumbers by their lugubrious utterances. But in the daytime, when all respectable beings, whether beast or man, do most delight to be seen and heard, these sylph-like denizens of the air shrink away to the uncertain shadows of the grove, where they spend their time in sleep, or moody silence, or, mayhap, in the concocting of ways to terrify poor, timid human beings. Coming down from these flights of imagination to the prose of real life, we may truthfully say, that they "love darkness rather than light." From the time of their first appearance during the early nights of May until their departure in August or September for the Gulf country and the land stretching southward, they maintain the same shy and retired disposition, concealing themselves from the glare of full-orbed day in close-set forests among fallen leaves and underbrush, and only venturing out in quest of food when the sun has sought his rosy couch beyond the Western wave. With the setting of the day-star, and the stir of the myriads of moths that now make night lively with their graceful motions and riotings, these Night-jars, as they are sometimes appropriately called, emerge from their hiding-places, and rejoice in wanton and luxurious feasting. They are far from being the dull, stupid beings which we would have been disposed to designate them only a few hours before. They are now all nimbleness and grace. Watch them as they sail through the bending, swaying ether as noiselessly as a thistle-down, and as lightly as a balloon afloat, and tell us were there ever more graceful creatures, and any better adapted to the purposes of their being? We apprehend not. What a beautiful and nice adaptation of means to end is here exemplified! Being designed and created to hold in check, in common with others of their kin, the various and multitudinous swarms of insects which fill the nocturnal atmosphere, the Wisdom that never errs has given them a peculiar structure, and peculiar habits. They must seek the darkness of night, and shun the light of day. And in order to capture their prey without startling it, they must move on swift and noiseless pinions, and with the greatest caution. Their prey often being large, a wide gape of mouth is necessary. Everything, even down to the minutest details of structure, declare their eminent fitness for the part which they have to play in the _role_ of life.

Such a decided partiality has our friend for the lovely woods, that he seldom forsakes its time-honored precincts for the open field. The sombre shadows cast by the motionless or quivering leaves upon the ground, and the melancholy streaks of light which fitfully play through the spaces between them, combined with the dark colors of the leaves that repose upon the soil beneath, produce a sort of gray and mellow light which beautifully harmonizes with the sober tints of these birds, and thus adds to their protection. In our travels we have frequently surprised an individual in his slumbers only a few paces away. Alarmed at this unexpected intrusion, the bird would wing its somewhat uncertain flight on swift and noiseless pinions to a place a few hundred feet distant, where it would alight upon a branch, or on the ground. After indicating the spot by a fallen log, or an adjoining bush, we would stealthily and quietly approach the place, straining our vision all the while in hopes of gaining a glimpse of the squatting bird. But before the desire could be gratified, the object of our search would become apprised of our presence, and take to wing. Again and again we have made the attempt to steal upon the bird unawares, but it invariably failed in accomplishment, even when the greatest caution was observed. The means which these birds employ for the detection of danger are both remarkable and wonderful. The visual organs being ill-suited to the bright light of day, and even the mellowed glow of the woods being seemingly too powerful a stimulus, it certainly depends upon other functions than those of sight. The sense of hearing being well-developed, may not this function be called into requisition at such times?

The common appellation of this species is derived from the cry which it emits at night. This cry has a slight resemblance to _whip-poor-will_, but, by a fertile fancy, it can be construed into a variety of sounds. The syllables are rapidly enunciated only when the bird is squatting on a bush or fence, or any other object near the ground, but never while in flight. It is always heard at night. As the day begins to dawn, it measurably diminishes in frequency and intensity, and finally ceases altogether. The absence of song while on the wing may be accounted for by the fact that the birds are such vigorous feeders, and are so absorbed with the business before them, that they have neither the time nor the disposition to indulge in such pastime. Besides, the wide-open position of the mouth which is assumed while sailing through the air, is hardly one which would favor a free exercise of the vocal powers. When in a restful state, the cry is perhaps the call which the sexes address to each other, or it may be interpreted sometimes as the signal for the resumption of the night's carousal after the day-sleep is over.

For nearly two weeks after their appearance the sexes, although already paired, continue to sleep the daylight away, and spend the nighttime in feasting and revelling. It is not until the middle of May that they become alive to the business which has called them from the land of the agave and loblolly-tree. With due diligence, and with but little time spent in preliminaries, they seek themselves out a spot for a home, where they construct, if at all, the merest apology of a nest. By a prostrate and decayed log, usually where the deepest shadow prevails, the female is wont to deposit her eggs. A slight concavity is ordinarily scooped out by her, in Eastern Pennsylvania, and lined with decayed wood or dried leaves. In other localities, and, to some extent, in the writer's own State, she does not even go to this trouble, but deposits her treasures, without thought-of what she is doing, upon the ground. Whether they rest upon a few loose leaves, or on the bare earth, is all the same to her. Having chosen her humble home, the female begins immediately to lay her first egg. This is followed on the ensuing day by another, and this completes her nest-complement. Incubation is at once assumed by the lady-bird, and seems to be her exclusive business for the space of fourteen or fifteen days. While she is thus occupied during the day, her illustrious partner is seldom to be seen, although it is possible that he is generally at no great distance from the spot, quietly preparing for the night's adventures. Perhaps he is then more considerate, and either sits upon the nest while his wife is away in quest of food, or else acts the part of an affectionate and indulgent husband, and conveys to her lonely chamber the necessary food wherewith to strengthen her for the trying duty which she is engaged in performing.

Few mothers manifest greater love for their children. She will often imperil her own life in their behalf. Her vigilance is wonderful, and the stratagems she practises to draw intruders away from her eggs and young are almost unsurpassed by those of any of our feathered species, excepting the female Maryland Yellow-Throat. On an occasion of disturbance her actions are strange and curious. She flutters as if mounded, beats the ground with her wings as though unable to rise, and performs these movements so successfully as to deceive the most wary and experienced collector. While thus seeking to divert attention from her home, she has even been known to spirit her young away when danger seemed imminent. Mr. Wilson cites a case that came under his own observation. This writer once set to work to delineate a young bird. Having accomplished the desired object, he left the spot, and, on missing his pencil, retraced his steps. On arriving thither, to his great surprise he discovered that the young bird had been carried away to a place of safety, but by what means, he doubtless never learned.

The young leave the nest when they are about seven days old, and are then able to move with considerable swiftness. At brief intervals, while nestlings, they utter a low, plaintive note, which has been likened by Nuttall to the syllables _pé-ugh_. A fortnight longer at home, under the guardianship of the maternal head, prepares them for the stern realities and cold charities of the outside world. They are now able to supply themselves with food, although still members of the same household. At first their food consists of caterpillars which are procured by the parents from the leaves and branches of trees. The different species of measuring-worms, and mature forms of noctuids and tineids among lepidoptera, constitute a considerable portion of their diet. But as they grow older, and are able to feed themselves, they devour immense numbers of ants and grasshoppers. When first hatched, in their helplessness, they depend for safety upon the close similarity which obtains between them and their immediate surroundings.

The eggs of this species are elliptical, being nearly or quite equal at both extremities. The ground-color is a pure creamy-white, and is irregularly scratched and marbled all over with reddish-brown and purplish-lavender lines and blotches, the former predominating. There is considerable variation in the intensity of coloration, some specimens being heavily marked, while others, from the faintness of the tracery, appear bleached or faded. Eggs from New England measure from 1.21 to 1.26 inches in length, and from .75 to .78 in width; from the Middle States they average 1.26 by .89; while specimens from the South and the North-west offer no material differences in many particulars these eggs resemble those of the Chuck-will's-widow, but are purer and more beautiful. There is also a notable resemblance to the eggs of the two European Goatsuckers, which is what the real scientist would naturally expect. In the drawing, the eggs are represented the natural size, and by the side of a fallen log. The male is considerably reduced, and may be readily distinguished from his partner by the white collar of the throat, and by his larger size. He measures ten inches in length, and has an expanse of wings of six and a half inches. The female is proportionally diminished, and is characterized by a light fulvous gorget, and in the absence of the white patch of the tail.

Plate XXIV.--PHILOHELA MINOR, (Gmel.) Gray.--American Woodcock.

|The Woodcock is somewhat restricted in its distribution. In this respect it differs from its numerous congeneric brethren, which have a wide dispersion. It is chiefly a denizen of the eastern parts of the United States, and of the British territory immediately adjacent thereto. Fort Rice, in North-western Dakota, according to Coues, and Kansas and Nebraska in the west, seem to be the limits of its range in those directions. Although notable for its scarcity in regions beyond the Mississippi, Iowa excepted, yet it abundantly compensates therefore as we advance eastward. In the Middle and Eastern States they are probably found in greater numbers than elsewhere. While the greater bulk pass north to breed, some abide in the South, and raise their happy little families, in spite of the ardor of the climate.

Few species, if any, arrive earlier. It generally appears from the fifth to the tenth of March in New England and the Middle Atlantic States, although instances are known where birds have been observed as early as the twenty-fourth of February. These cases are, however, rare, and only happen, if at all, when the weather has been remarkably propitious for a lengthy spell. As a few of them have been known to remain all winter in Pennsylvania, and elsewhere, when the season has been fine, may not their emergence from sheltered localities, at such times, be construed by persons who are not cognizant of their presence, or of their occasional disposition to permanence of residence, as but a case of recent arrival? In view of this latter habit, it would be difficult to prove that the visitor had just come from the South, unless it had been discerned _in transitu._

Having decided upon their migratory tour, they start in small companies, from four to six in number. These settle down in small tracts of country of a few rods in area on reaching their destination. Low, swampy thickets generally invite their presence. Here they conceal themselves during the day. But when night has dethroned her rival, and temporarily assumed the reins of power, they come out of their grassy retreats, and wander about in search of food. The setting of the sun behind the western hill-tops is the signal for their nocturnal rambles to begin. And well do they keep them up. For it is not until the first streak of morning is seen to glow in the East that they abandon their foragings and retire to accustomed haunts. Few there are who have visited these birds at such times. Let us take our readers to yon neighboring swamp, or by the side of some lowly woodland, which these strange beings delight to frequent. The utmost silence must be maintained, or our friends will be frightened away. While we may not be able to see the objects that have called us hither, we know they are not far away by the rustle which they produce among the dry leaves, and by the peculiar notes which they emit, for there are two or three individuals together, as they move restlessly about in the undergrowth, in their search for worms. _Chip-per, chip-per, chip_ may be heard from the right, and almost in the next instant it is varied to _bleat_ or _bleat ta bleat ta_, produced in the contrary direction, or off in the distance, showing that the authors thereof have changed their positions. While these birds have an habitual fondness for humid thickets, they not unfrequently betake themselves to corn-fields and other cultivated tracts in close proximity thereto, and even to elevated woods.

For more than a fortnight after their arrival the sexes, though feeding in company, do not apparently manifest a disposition to assume conjugal relationship. The desire for food seems to be uppermost in their minds. The inclemency of the weather, and the coldness of the ground in consequence, may have much to do with holding the amatory forces in check. But when the opportune moment arrives, which it does in the course of events, the sexes stop from their feeding, in a measure, and give the nobler instincts of their being a chance for development. The males are the first to feel the changes which are being wrought in their natures. For more than a week from this time, in the early morning and evening hours, they may be seen exercising themselves by means of "curious spiral gyrations" in mid-air, and uttering, as they descend earthwards, a note which Audubon lias likened to the word _kwank_. This note may be a call for the female in the spring, but as it is often uttered in the fall after the breed-ing-season is past, it may also be a summons for the gathering together of the members of the same household. The production of these sounds seems to be a labor of much effort. The movements of the bird then, must be seen to be appreciated. The head and bill are bent forward until the latter comes into contact with the ground, and, just as the sound is being emitted, the body is urged violently forward. These spasmodic exertions being over, the actor in this drama, twitches its abbreviated, halfspread tail, assumes an erect attitude of listening, and, if no response is elicited, repeats its characteristic cry, with all the accompanying movements. If the call awakes an answering note, the happy lover flies to the presence of the one he seeks, and lavishes upon her the most endearing caresses. Sometimes, as Audubon affirms, the male awaits the arrival of the loved one, and does not fly to meet her. According to the same authority, the summons seems sometimes to be replied to by one of the same sex, which is always the prelude to a fierce encounter between the two, for, on these occasions, when the feelings are in a high state of tension, the utmost enmity exists between the males. These contentions are usually shortlived, and cease with the assumption of matrimonial relations.

The happiness of the male is now complete. With his homely, but, doubtless, to him, prepossessing bride, by his side, he soon journeys off in search of a home. This is a matter of some consequence, and tasks the patience to the utmost. But their labors in this direction are eventually crowned with success. They frequent the most secluded resorts, and hide their nest away in some low, dense and swampy woods or brake, difficult of access, and one that none but the cruel collector would be likely to visit. The nest is generally placed on the ground, at the foot of a bush or tussock, in the midst of small birches or alders, or on a decayed stump or prostrate log. In some localities it is snugly nestled in the midst of a meadow. It is not an elaborate affair by any means, but merely consists of a few dried leaves or grasses which are scratched together by the female--the work of a few hours at the most.