Part 6
As closely allied to the Purple Martin, in manners, as in form and colouring, I long mistook the present bird for that well-known species, as I think others have done also. The white belly is, however, a sufficient mark of distinction. It is very common, at least in the lowlands and inferior mountain ranges, during the summer; some remain with us through the winter, but as there is a very marked diminution of their numbers, I conclude that a large body of them migrate on the approach of that season, probably to Central America. About the end of March we see them in great numbers, assembled early in the morning on the topmost branches of the lofty cotton trees, which at that season are leafless. On these they crowd so closely, side by side, that I have known five to be killed at one discharge. In the autumn we observe exactly the same habit. Perhaps we may trace some analogy here to those periodical congregations of other species which are known to be connected with migration.
It is a remarkable fact, that of the seven species of Swallows and Swifts which summer in North America, all of which are stated to migrate to the southward before winter, not one should have occurred to me in Jamaica. Although every day through the winter months, my almost undivided attention was given to birds; and though from August to April about thirteen hundred specimens of birds fell into my hands, more than one thousand of which were shot by myself and my servants, not a single individual of a North American species was observed among them. I simply state the fact, leaving any one to draw his own inferences.
At the same time, I should observe, that Mr. Hill thinks that _Acanthylis pelasgia_ visits Jamaica in its periodical migration. Referring to an incident which he had mentioned to me before, he says, “The migratory _hirundines_, whose squadrons moving in circles, I gave you a sketch of in March last, as seen by me at that time passing over us from south to north, (and I have observed them yearly either in that month or in April,) I conclude to be flocks of _pelasgia_ on their passage to their summer homes northward, after wintering in the tropics. The circular movement of the migratory retinue; the direction of their flight; their known wintering on the neighbouring intertropical shores; their association at all times in multitudinous numbers; and the cry with which they announce their passage, as they leisurely course round,—_tsippee, tsippee, tsippee_, seem to me so many identifications of this species.”
The Blue Swallow has the same propensity to bring up his family in darkness, as his purple brother. The stipe of an old palm, whose porous centre decays, while the iron fibres of the exterior remain strong, is his ordinary resort. At the beginning of April, I observed several pairs flying in and out of holes, bored I suppose by the Woodpecker, in the stipe of a dead Cocoa-nut still tall and erect, but a mere leafless post, tottering in the breeze and ready to fall. At the middle of May, Sam observed several pairs entering a round hole, about two inches in diameter, beneath the eaves of Belmont house.
Near the end of June, when on my way in a coasting boat from Bluefields to Kingston, I was lying wind-bound in Starvegut Bay. There the inhospitable shore is strewn with immense fragments of limestone rock, honey-combed and fretted into holes, through which the surf breaking furiously, finds vent in perpendicular jets and spouts of water, or in columns of spray resembling steam from an engine-pipe, accompanied with crashing roar. Yet I observed with interest, that the Blue Swallows were frequenting these rocks, and I noticed one repeatedly going in and out of a small hole near the summit of a rugged mass, separated from the shore, and completely isolated by the boiling surf. Lansdown Guilding, in some notes on the Zoology of the Caribbean Islands, (Zool. Jour. III. 408,) observes, “We have but few of this family in St. Vincents: among them is a Swallow, which roosts, and I believe builds, in the rock of the sea-shore. It is curious,” he adds, “to observe the bird in calm weather skimming patiently along the sea in search of insects, evidently ignorant of the fact that they are confined to fresh water, and do not sport on the surface of salt waters.” I cannot agree, however, with this accomplished naturalist here: that the Swallows do occasionally skim over the sea, is undeniable; and that gnats and other minute insects are also in the habit of frequenting the salt water, though not in such numbers as over the fresh ponds and rivers, is no less certain, at least in Jamaica.
+Fam.+—TODIDÆ.—(_The Todies._)
GREEN TODY.[18]
_Todus viridis._
_Todus viridis_, +Linn.+—Nat. Lib. (Flyc.) vign. ? _Todus multicolor_, +Lafresn.+
[18] Length 4¹⁄₄ inches, expanse 6¹⁄₂, tail 1⁵⁄₁₀, flexure 1⁸⁄₁₀, rictus ¹⁹⁄₂₀, tarsus ⁶⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁵⁄₁₀.
Irides very pale grey; pupils very large; beak above horny red, beneath pale crimson; legs and feet reddish brown; sometimes flesh-colour, or purplish-horn. The sexes exactly alike.
I doubt much if _Todus multicolor_ of Lafresnaye, figured in D’Orbigny’s Birds of Cuba, is specifically different from this; the slight distinctions of hue being scarcely more than variations which I have found in Jamaican specimens; some of which, in my possession, display the pale blue on the sides of the throat, and the orange on the flanks.
In all parts of Jamaica that I have visited, the Tody is a very common bird. On the summit of Bluefields mountain, about three thousand feet from the level of the sea, and particularly where the deserted provision-grounds are overgrown with a thicket, almost impenetrable, of jointer, or joint-wood (_Piper geniculatum_), it is especially abundant. Always conspicuous from its bright grass-green coat, and crimson-velvet gorget, it is still a very tame bird; yet this seems rather the tameness of indifference than of confidence; it will allow a person to approach very near, and, if disturbed, alight on another twig a few yards distant. We have often captured specimens with the insect net, and struck them down with a switch, and it is not uncommon for the little boys to creep up behind one, and actually to clap the hand over it as it sits, and thus secure it. It is a general favourite, and has received a favourite name, that of Robin Redbreast. There is little resemblance, however, between the West Indian and the European namesakes. I have never seen the Tody on the ground; but it hops about the twigs of low trees, searching for minute insects, occasionally uttering a querulous, sibilant note. But more commonly it is seen sitting patiently on a twig, with the head drawn in, the beak pointing upwards, the loose plumage puffed out, when it appears much larger than it is. It certainly has an air of stupidity when thus seen. But this abstraction is more apparent than real; if we watch it, we shall see that the odd-looking grey eyes are glancing hither and thither, and that, ever and anon, the bird sallies out upon a short feeble flight, snaps at something in the air, and returns to his twig to swallow it. It is instructive to note by how various means the wisdom of God has ordained a given end to be attained. The Swallow and the Tody live on the same prey, insects on the wing; and the short, hollow, and feeble wings of the latter, are as effectual to him, as the long and powerful pinions are to the Swallow. He has no powers to employ in pursuing insects, but he waits till they come within his circumscribed range, and no less certainly secures his meal.
I have never seen the Tody eating vegetable food; but I have occasionally found in its stomach, among minute coleopterous and hymenopterous insects, a few small seeds. One, which I kept in a cage, would snatch worms from me with impudent audacity; and then beat them violently against the perch or sides of the cage to divide, before he swallowed, them.
One, captured with a net in April, on being turned into a room, began immediately to catch flies, and other minute insects that flitted about, particularly little destructive _Tineadæ_ that infested my dried birds. At this employment he continued incessantly, and most successfully, all that evening, and all the next day from earliest dawn to dusk. He would sit on the edge of the tables, on the lines, on shelves, or on the floor, ever glancing about, now and then flitting up into the air, when the snap of his beak announced a capture, and he returned to some station to eat it. He would peep into the lowest and darkest corners, even under the tables, for the little globose, long-legged spiders, which he would drag from their webs and swallow. He sought these also about the ceiling and walls, and found very many. I have said that he continued at this employment all day without intermission, and, though I took no account, I judged that, on an average, he made a capture per minute. We may thus form some idea of the immense number of insects destroyed by these and similar birds; bearing in mind that this was in a room, where the human eye scarcely recognised a dozen insects altogether; and that, in the free air, insects would doubtless be much more numerous. Water in a basin was in the room, but I did not see him drink, though occasionally he perched on the brim; and when I inserted his beak into the water, he would not drink. Though so actively engaged in his own occupation, he cared nothing for the presence of man; he sometimes alighted voluntarily on our heads, shoulders, or fingers; and when sitting, would permit me at any time to put my hand over him and take him up; though, when in the hand, he would struggle to get out. He seemed likely to thrive, but incautiously settling in front of a dove-cage, a surly Baldpate poked his head through the wires, and with his beak aimed a cruel blow at the pretty green head of the unoffending and unsuspecting Tody. He appeared not to mind it at first, but did not again fly; and about an hour afterward, on my taking him into my hand, and throwing him up, he could only flutter to the ground, and on laying him on the table, he stretched out his little feet, shivered, and died.
The inhabitants of Jamaica are not in the habit of domesticating many of the native birds; else this is one of the species which would become a favourite pet. In a state of liberty, however, it attracts the admiration, even of the most unobservant, and an European is charmed with it. As it sits on a twig in the verdure of spring, its grass-green coat is sometimes undistinguishable from the leaves in which it is embowered, itself looking like a leaf; but a little change of position bringing its throat into the sun’s rays, the light suddenly gleams as from a glowing coal. Occasionally, too, this crimson plumage is puffed out into a globose form, when its appearance is particularly beautiful.
The tongue is fleshy for but a small part of its length, the remainder consisting of a flat, or slightly concave, transparent, horny lamina; just like a cut from the side of a quill; it is seen, under a lens, to be snipped at the edges, into very minute and close-set barbs pointing backwards. The skin is exceedingly thin, and so tender, as to render it a very difficult task to prepare a specimen.
The Tody, as has been long known, builds in holes in the earth, in the manner of the Kingfisher. Near Scott’s Cove, I was shown, by the side of the deep road, holes in the clay, which were said to be the nesting holes of the “Robin.” And near Spanish Town, a friend pointed out a hole in a bank in his own garden, in which a Tody was then building, in March. But, as I have never seen the nest or eggs, I am indebted to the notes of Mr. Hill for a detailed description.
“The Green Tody is a bird of peculiar structure, and peculiar habits. It is exclusively an insect feeder, and burrows in the earth to breed. The banks of ravines, and the scarps of dry ditches, are excavated by its feeble feet, in which two out of three of its front toes are united together, leaving only the terminal joint free, and hence the feet of this kind of birds are called _syndactylous_. The hole runs into the banks some eight inches or a foot: at the extremity of this subterranean lodging, it nestles in secrecy and security.
“As the subterranean nest is made wherever there is friable mould easy of excavation,—ravines and gullies, whose banks are earthy, and where the water passes off rapidly from the surface-soil, are generally selected for breeding. These gullies are sheltered from exposure to the drift rain by opposing banks, or they are covered by over-hanging shrubs. The excavation is made by means of the beak and claws. It is a winding gallery, rounded at the bottom, and terminating in a sufficiently wide lodging, lined with pliant fibres, and dry moss and cotton, placed with some attention to arrangement. Four or five grey, brown-spotted eggs are laid, and the young are fed within the cave till they are full-fledged.
“The combination of circumstances that make up a fit nestling place for it, may be well understood from the following selection of a burrow, by a pair of birds, in the garden of a friend. A box filled with earth had been placed on tressels within water, for growing lettuces from seed, or rather for saving the seed, whilst vegetating, from the depredations of ants. The box had performed its office;—the lettuces had been transplanted, and the mould remained in undisturbed fallow. The box having a knot-hole in the side, through this hole a pair of Todies burrowed a gallery into the heart of the mould, built a nest, and reared a family of young ones. They were assiduous sitters, the male and female relieving each other. Though they attracted a good deal of attention, and were not unfrequently disturbed by the curiosity of visitors, they steadfastly pursued their family affairs, and showed surprising vigilance and caution in escaping out of their cavern, when they were either watched, or attempts were made to catch them. They never failed to profit by the moment when attention was withdrawn from them, either to come from out of their cave, or to dart into it. On opening the earth after the young had fled, there was found a capacious winding gallery into the centre of the box, ending in a circular lodging, in which was contained the nest, composed of fibrous roots and cotton.
“There is such an obvious similarity between the Kingfisher and the Tody, particularly the brilliant blue and green European Kingfisher, that few who are acquainted with both fail to recognise their affinity. The brilliant plumage of the two birds; the patient watchfulness with which they both sit on some exposed twig to await the vagrant prey; their short flight from station to station; and their repeated return to the same spot;—independent of that intimate resemblance in the structure of their extremities, which led Brisson, Latreille, and Cuvier, to arrange the Halcyons in company with the Todies, would induce one to conclude that there was some propinquity in their natures, without any great knowledge of Natural History. The difference of the element in which they severally seek their food, does not widen the affinity between them, for the Jacamars of America, and the Martin-chasseurs of Africa, or King-hunters, as they are called, to distinguish them, in their pursuit of a terrestrial or aërial prey, from the Kingfishers or Martin-pecheurs, which seek theirs only in the water,—are placed in no less near a relationship of habits and structure. The similarity is remarkably increased, when we go on to the habit of burrowing, which prevails alike among all these birds, and to the syndactyle form of the feet. These resemblances remove all doubt about their classification.
“The Spaniards of Hispaniola call the Green Tody by a very appropriate name, the Barrancali, from the barrancas or earthy ravine-cliffs in which it builds; _barranca_ being the appellation for the deep breaks and gullies made by the mountain-floods.”
A nest is in my possession, attributed to the Tody, which, if rightly appropriated, is a remarkable deviation from a general habit. A person of intelligence informed me, about the middle of May, that he knew of a “Red-breast” building in a tree; at which he was surprised, knowing its habit of burrowing to breed. I assured him that he must be in error; but he was confident of the fact, however anomalous, as he had seen the bird actually in the nest. In a few days he sent me the twig with the nest upon it. It was certainly one to which I could assign no probable ownership, but that he had mentioned. It was built on a small shrubby tree, in the fork formed by one of the principal branches, and a twig that it sent forth, being rather wider than a right angle. As the main branch is not thicker than one’s little finger, and the nest is stretched from the one to the other, the outline of the rim forms a long oval about 1¹⁄₂ inch by ³⁄₄; and ³⁄₄ inch deep. It is a thin, very frail structure, formed of spiders’ webs stretched along, in which are profusely inlaid the shining, brown perules of some leaf-buds; with the addition of a little silk-cotton, this is the whole: it looks unfinished. To set against the improbability of this being the nest of a Tody, there are these two considerations:—First, the direct evidence of an intelligent and observant man, who, I feel sure, would not willingly deceive me, and to whom the Tody was too familiar for him to mistake its identity. Secondly, the nest is too small for any other known Jamaican bird, except the Humming-birds; and I have specimens of the nests of all our known species, not one of which it resembles at all. I have no doubt that the report is correct, and that it is an aberration of habit.
+Fam.+—ALCEDINIDÆ.—(_The Kingfishers._)
BELTED KINGFISHER.[19]
_Ceryle Alcyon._
_Alcedo alcyon_, +Linn.+—Aud. pl. 77. _Ceryle alcyon_, +Boie+.
[19] Length 13¹⁄₈ inches, expanse 21¹⁄₂, flexure 6¹⁄₄, tail 3¹⁄₂, rictus 2⁹⁄₁₀, tarsus ⁵⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁸⁄₁₀.
On my arrival in Jamaica in December, I used frequently to see this well-known bird sitting on the bushes that overhang the romantic river of Bluefields, or shooting along on swift wing, over its rapid course. As the spring came on, however, and merged into summer, I ceased to see it, there or elsewhere, no doubt because it had migrated to the north; the very individuals that I had seen in Jamaica being, perhaps, now in Canada. About the beginning of September it again appeared, rather numerously for a solitary bird, scarcely a morning passing without our seeing one or more along the sea-side. Where the mangrove or the sea-grape stretches its branches down to the water’s edge, stopping the way along the yellow beach, the Kingfisher delights to resort, sitting on a projecting twig; here he waits patiently for the approach of some small fish, on which he drops perpendicularly, and having seized it in his powerful beak, emerges from the wave, and returns to his former station to swallow it. It is a very shy and recluse bird; I have found scarcely any more difficult of approach: the posts of observation which he chooses are mostly such as command a wide view; and it is very wary; long before the gunner can creep within shot, the bird takes alarm, and darts away to a distant tree. Often as it sits watching, and sometimes at the moment of flying, it utters a loud rattling _churr_.
Though in general a solitary bird, it is not unusual to observe two playing together, chasing each other from tree to tree. A pair which I obtained soon after their autumnal appearance, were thus engaged. I watched them a long while, endeavouring to get a shot at them, but owing to their wariness, was long unsuccessful. They took a wide round, including, as alighting places, three high cotton-trees, one or two mangroves, and a sea-grape, returning to these in succession, though not with perfect regularity. As they flew they called to each other, with the usual harsh cry; now and then they paused to mark the shoals of small fishes that were swimming beneath, and plunged down upon them; and I noticed that at such times the bird went wholly under water. Once both birds seized the same fish, nearly at the same moment, and rising with it into the air, each tugged in contrary directions, until the grasp of one gave way. At last my assistant, Sam, taking advantage of a dense and matted withe near one of the alighting trees, concealed himself in it, whence he shot them both. The first was only wounded, and falling into the water swam out sea-ward, _striking out_ boldly, the wings, however, partially opened. On being seized he proved very fierce, erecting the long crest, and endeavouring to strike with his pointed beak. He got hold of my thumb, and squeezed so powerfully, that the cutting edge of the upper mandible sliced a piece of flesh clean out. He was tenacious of life, for though I pressed the trachea until motion ceased, he repeatedly revived.
The form of the body of this bird, in conjunction with the head and beak, is wedge-shaped, the tip of the latter being the point. This form is admirably suited for its sudden and impetuous plunges upon its fishy prey; as the powerful texture, great size, sharp point, and cutting edges of the beak, are for holding it. The feathers of the throat and breast are of the closest texture, and lie on each other like scales, preventing the access of any water to the body, while, from their glossy, satiny surface, the water is thrown off instantly on emersion, as from the plumage of a duck. The feet again, though small, are muscular, the tarsus very short, the toes united into a broad, flat palm, and the claws unusually strong, short, and sharp. When one remembers that the Kingfisher digs his own cave out of the clayey or gravelly cliffs to the depth of several feet, we shall see the use of his strong and broad feet, as we may see it also in the Mole. Beautiful proofs of our God’s consummate wisdom in forming his creatures!
+Fam.+—NECTARINIADÆ.—(_The Honey-suckers._)
BLACK AND YELLOW CREEPER.[20]
_Banana Quit._
_Certhiola flaveola._
_Certhia flaveola_, +Linn.+—Edw. 122. _Nectarinia Antillensis_, +Less.+ _Certhiola flaveola_, +Sundev.+
[20] Length 4¹⁄₈ inches, expanse 6¹⁄₂, flexure 2⁵⁄₁₀, tail 1³⁄₁₀, rictus ⁵⁄₁₀, tarsus ¹³⁄₂₀, middle toe ⁵⁄₁₀.
Male. Irides dark hazel; beak black, very acute; feet slate-grey: tongue bifid, penicillate. Upper parts black, except the rump, which is bright yellow, well-defined. Outer web of the primaries white at base, which then runs down along the edge; secondaries, tertials, and tail feathers very slightly tipped with white: on the outmost tail-feather the white tip is very much increased. Over the eye a broad arched stripe of white. Throat dull, dark grey. Under parts yellow, deepest on the breast, divided from the grey by a transverse line, very pale or white on under tail-coverts. Inner surface of wings white; edge of shoulder brilliant yellow.
Female, and young of year. Upper parts blackish olive; band over eye, rump, and whole under parts dull, pale yellow; wing quills dull black, bases white; tail black, tips whitish. Colours ill-defined.