Birds and All Nature, Vol. III, No. 3, March 1898

The Doves and Blackbirds are mostly in the southern states, but not far; for, eating grain only now, they are after climate rather than food. But such birds as our swallows and the Fly-catchers – say the Peewees, Bee-Martins, and their kind – are much farther on where the insects fly all the year round. Some of them are in Florida and some are in South America and a few perhaps are banqueting in Old Mexico, studying the silver question. – J. N. Baskett, in Mexico (Mo.) Intelligencer.

THE BLACK DUCK

DUSKY DUCK, Black Mallard, Black English Duck, (Florida), are some of the names by which this well-known member of the family is recognized throughout eastern North America, west to Utah, and north to Labrador. It is much less common in the interior than along the Atlantic coast. It is called the characteristic and one of the commonest Ducks of New England, where it breeds at large, and from thence northeastward, but is most numerous during the migrations.

The nest of the Black Duck is placed on the ground, in grass or rushes in the neighborhood of ponds, pools, and streams, in meadows and sometimes in swamps. It is a large and neatly arranged structure of weeds and grass, hollowed and lined with down and feathers from the breast of the bird. In rare instances it has been known to build its nest in the hollow of a tree, or a "stub" projecting from the water of a swamp. Mr. Frazer found the nest of this Duck in Labrador usually placed upon the out-reaching branches of stunted spruces, which are seldom higher than four feet.

The eggs of this species are from six to twelve in number, usually seven or eight, and vary in color from pale buff to pale greenish buff. The nesting period is from the last of April to the early part of June.

The Black Duck is a very wary creature, exceedingly difficult of approach. They are found in great numbers, except when congregated on salt water, five to ten being an average flock started from pond and feeding ground.

During very severe winters, says Hallock, when every sheet of water is bound in with a thick covering of ice, the Black Ducks are driven to warm spring holes where the water never freezes. The approach of evening drives the Ducks from the bay or sound, where they have been sitting during the day, and they seek these open inland spots for food and shelter. Brush-houses are constructed of sedge, cedar boughs, etc., at the mouths of fresh water rivers and creeks, in places where the marsh land is low and intersected by branches of the main stream. Here the Ducks come to feed at night and are taken by hunters who are concealed in the bushes. These houses are left standing, however, and the wary Ducks soon avoid entirely this locality, and feed elsewhere. The brush-house building on feeding grounds cannot be too severely condemned.

Hallock observes that of all the birds which during spring and fall traverse our country probably none equal these Ducks in point of size, numbers and economic value. The group is confined neither to the sea coast, nor to the interior, but is spread out over the whole breadth of the continent, in summer extending its migrations to the furthest north, and in winter proceeding only so far south as it is forced to by the freezing of the waters of its northern home.

THE STORMY PETREL

"The Stormy Petrel, mamma, is a very interesting bird. I should like very much to be in a ship and see him walking on the water, wouldn't you?"

Mamma, who thought of the apostle St. Peter, shook her head.

"You must be mistaken, Bobbie," said she. "I never heard of a bird that could walk on the water."

"Well, that's what my magazine says," replied Bobbie, "and I am sure Birds ought to know. Listen!" and Bobbie, stopping to spell a word now and then, and to ask the meaning of many, managed to inform his mother what the Stormy Petrel had to say about himself.

"Though I am the smallest of the web-footed birds I am a great traveler," read Bobbie. "Everywhere over the entire surface of the watery globe you will find members of my order; far north in the Arctic seas and away down in the Southern oceans. We love the sea, and the food which is thrown up by the waves. Anything oily or greasy we particularly like. No matter how stormy the weather, nor how high the billows roll, you will see us little fellows, with outstretched wings, sweeping along in the hollow trough of the sea. From one side of a ship to the other, now far ahead, then a great way behind, catching up easily with the ship though making ten knots an hour."

"What is a knot, mamma?" querried Bobbie.

"A knot means a sailors' mile. An engineer says his locomotive runs at the rate of so many miles an hour; a seaman says so many 'knots.' A knot is something more than our English mile."

"The sailors call us 'Mother Carey's Chickens.' Because we walk and run on the surface of the water they think us uncanny, foretelling bad weather, or something else bad for the crew, when – let me whisper it into your ear – it is our outstretched wings which uphold us, our wings as well as our broad, flat feet.

There is something else I want to tell you though before I close. Think of making a lamp out of a bird's body! That is what they do with a Stormy Petrel's body on a certain island in the Atlantic ocean. They find our carcass so oily from the food we eat, that all they have to do is to draw a wick through our body, light it, and lo they have a lamp."

WILSON'S PETREL

PETRELS are dispersed throughout all the seas and oceans of the world. Wilson's Stormy Petrel is one of the best known and commonest. It is to be met with nearly everywhere over the entire watery surface of the globe – far north in the icy regions of the Arctic seas and south to the sunny isles of southern oceans. It breeds in the months of March, April, May, June, July and August, according to the locality, in the northern latitudes of Europe, eastern and western North America. Dr. J. H. Kidder found it on Kerguelen Island, southeast of Africa. He had previously seen the birds at the sea coast off the Cape of Good Hope, and, on December 14, saw them out by day feeding on the oily matter floating away from the carcass of a sea-elephant. The birds, he says, frequent the rocky parts of hillsides, and flitting about like swallows, catch very minute insects. "Mother Carey's Chicken," as it is called by sailors, is widely believed to be the harbinger of bad weather, and many superstitions have grown out of the habit which they possess of apparently walking on the surface of the water as the Apostle St. Peter is recorded to have done. It is the smallest of the web-footed birds, yet few storms are violent enough to keep it from wandering over the waves in search of the food that the disturbed water casts to the surface.

The Stormy Petrel is so exceedingly oily in texture, that the inhabitants of the Ferol islands draw a wick through its body and use it as a lamp.

Wilson gives the following account of its habits while following a ship under sail:

"It is indeed an interesting sight to observe these little birds in a gale, coursing over the waves, down the declivities, up the ascents of the foaming surf that threatens to bend over their head; sweeping along through the hollow troughs of the sea, as in a sheltered valley, and again mounting with the rising billow, and just above its surface, occasionally dropping their feet, which, striking the water, throws the birds up again with additional force; sometimes leaping, with both legs parallel, on the surface of the roughest wave for several yards at a time. Meanwhile they continue coursing from side to side of the ship's wake, making excursions far and wide, to the right and to the left, now a great way ahead, and now shooting astern for several hundred yards, returning again to the ship, as if she were all the time stationary, though perhaps running at the rate of ten knots an hour! But the most singular peculiarity of this bird is its faculty of standing and even running on the surface of the water, which it performs with apparent facility. When any greasy matter is thrown overboard these birds instantly collect around it, and face to windward, with their long wings expanded and their webbed feet patting the water, which the lightness of their bodies and the action of the wind on their wings enable them to do with ease. In calm weather they perform the same maneuver by keeping their wings just so much in action as to prevent their feet from sinking below the surface."

Rev. Mr. Eaton says that this species nests under large rocks not far from the beach. Egg, one, white.

THE STORMY PETREL

A thousand miles from land are we,
Tossing about on the stormy sea —
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast.
The sails are scattered abroad like weeds,
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds;
The mighty cables and iron chains,
The hull – which all earthly strength disdains —
They strain and they crack, and hearts like stone
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown.

Up and down! – up and down!
From the base of the wave to the billow's crown,
And amidst the flashing and feathery foam
The Stormy Petrel finds a home —
A home, if such a place may be
For her who lives on the wide, wide sea.
On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,
And only seeketh her rocky lair
To warn her young and teach them to spring
At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing!

O'er the deep! – o'er the deep!
Where the whale and the shark and the sword fish sleep —
Out-flying the blast and the driving rain,
The Petrel telleth her tale – in vain;
For the mariner curseth the warning bird
Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard!
Ah! thus does the prophet of good or ill
Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still;
Yet he ne'er falters – so, Petrel, spring
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing!

    – Bryan Waller Procter.

THE BLUE-GRAY GNATCATCHER

ALMOST everywhere in the United States this active little bird may be found, inhabiting chiefly open, high woods. Often he may be seen along streams, skipping and darting about among the topmost branches of the trees, his long tail elevated and jerking in wren-like fashion, always moving about and ever uttering his wheezy, squeaky notes. Ridgway says that during the breeding season the male has a varied song of considerable power, but lacking in sweetness, and uttered in an erratic manner, portions of it suggesting a weak imitation of the Catbird's medley.

It is as a nest builder that the Gnatcatcher is best known. Davie, whose life study has been nests and eggs, says that as a work of beauty and ingenious architectural design the nest of this bird has few equals in this country. On the whole, it is a rather frail structure, usually built in the small upright twigs or saddled on the horizontal limbs of trees at heights ranging from ten to fifty feet, but generally at an elevation of about fifteen or twenty feet. The typical nest has high, compact walls, contracted at the brim, and gracefully turned; the interior is deeply cupped, and the exterior is beautifully ornamented with lichens. The opening is always at the top. Often the nest is attached to a limb of the same diameter as itself, thus appearing as a knot or other excrescence. If, as Baskett says, "there can be no doubt that a bird may take delight in the skill of its work and the beauty of its home, as well as in its plumage," the dainty residence of the Blue-gray Gnatcatcher would indicate that the pretty little bird experiences a great amount of pleasure indeed. She lines her nest with soft, downy materials – cotton-like substances of withered blossoms and the silky down of the milkweed – fine, wiry grasses, horsehair, and an occasional feather from her own breast. In this she lays four or five eggs of greenish or bluish white, speckled with chestnut.

Col. Goss describes this bird as as much at home in the shrubby bushes on the hillsides or mesquite growths on the plains, as within the tree-tops of the heavily timbered bottom lands; a nervous, restless species that, in their quest of insect life, nimbly skip from branch to branch, with partially spread wings and flirting tails, held more or less erect, now and then darting like a flash into the air to catch the passing flies; a tireless picture of bustling energy, that only ceases with the day. The soft, warbling love song is varied, tender, and full of melody, but so low, the hearer must stop to listen in order to fully catch its silvery tones.

THE AMERICAN COOT

I have a number of names: Mud Hen, Crow Duck, and Blue Peter. It's all the same to me. What's in a name anyway? Wouldn't a rose smell just as sweet if it were named Blue Peter, too?

Well I am an aquatic bird, and can quack with the best of them and swim with them, too. I go along beautifully on the water. My feet are very remarkable, the toes being fringed by a membrane which assists me greatly in swimming as well as walking over the ooze. I call them my mud-boards.

Such a lovely little thing as I was when I came out of my shell! that is what people, who saw me at that time, say. My down was jet-black and my head a bright orange-scarlet mixed with purple and blue. I wish I looked half as handsome now, but you can't paddle around in the mud all day and keep clean. That is I can't. My coat is a sooty-black now and I won't be able to change it as long as I live.