Life Histories of North American Cuckoos, Goatsuckers, Hummingbirds, and Their Allies (continued 4)

It is impossible here to deal with the problem of the evolution of the various types of cuckoos’ eggs, but the facts recorded above seem to go far toward proving that cuckoo eggs, to assimilate with those of their fosterers, have been evolved by discrimination among the foster parents leading to the slow but sure destruction of the unfit, i. e., Darwin’s doctrine of the survival of the fittest in its crudest form.

In shape the eggs are rather broader ovals than those of the European cuckoo, and they also average larger and heavier. It is indeed much easier to separate the various subspecies of cuckoo by the eggs they lay than by the plumage of the birds that lay them.

The number of eggs laid by the Khasia Hills cuckoo probably varies somewhat individually, though I believe it generally to be 12 to 20. It is, however, very difficult to decide this definitely, as it is impossible to be satisfied that every nest of the selected fosterer in any given area has without doubt been marked down. It was not until 1907 that I concentrated on the attempt to solve any one of the numerous cuckoo problems, and it was some years after this before satisfactory evidence had accumulated on this particular point. My different series of eggs of individual cuckoos vary greatly in number, being, I believe, governed entirely by the number of nests of the foster parent available in the area searched over. In 1908, on May 25, in one small grass glade surrounded by pine forest I found five nests of Cisticola, three containing young cuckoos or eggs of the cuckoo, and I am practically sure that I missed no Cisticola or Suya nests. One of these nests had in it a young cuckoo about 2 days old, another nest had a young cuckoo just hatching, while a third had a slightly incubated cuckoo’s egg. The two other nests of the Cisticola were unfinished and empty, but on June 1 one of these contained a slightly incubated cuckoo’s egg and three of the foster parent, while, finally, on June 4 the last nest contained a fresh egg of the cuckoo and four of the warbler. As the egg from which the older of the nestling cuckoos had been hatched must have been laid about May 13, while the last egg was laid on June 3 or 4, we have only five eggs laid in 21 days, whereas we know now that the larger cuckoos lay every second day, so the five eggs and the two young found cannot possibly include all then laid. A series of 14 eggs, all found between May 19 and June 10, 1910, in a similar but much larger area, were probably laid between May 16 and June 10 and represent a complete series laid every alternate day. In another small series of five eggs of one and the same cuckoo found in a narrow strip of grassland three eggs were deposited in Cisticola’s nests on May 16, 18, and 20, this exhausting all the nests then available. After this she apparently departed, but on July 5 and 7 the same cuckoo returned and placed two more eggs, one each in two new nests of Cisticolas. Another series of 14 eggs, of which 12 were placed in nests of Cisticola jundicis cursitans, one in a nest of C. exilis tytleri, and one in a nest of Suya atrogularis khasiana, were laid in two periods: The first from May 15 to 23 occupying each of the five nests of the fantail warbler available between these dates, and, then, from June 1 to 18 in all the nests then available in that particular area. Finally a series of eggs of one cuckoo that were taken from 1925 to 1935 consisted of the following numbers: 6, 8, 14, 9, 10, 12, 15, 18, 14, 11, 15. In 1925 and 1926 woodcutters were working in the pinewoods surrounding the open patch in which the fantail warblers were breeding and doubtless drove these little birds away and so deprived the cuckoo of foster parents during the latter period of her laying, or probably larger series would have been obtained in that particular patch of grassland. The various series prove satisfactorily that eggs are normally deposited every alternate day and, also, that there is no interval in the laying period dividing it into two.

The weights of 1,368 eggs of the Khasia Hills cuckoo are as follows: Average weight 231; maximum 307; minimum 153 milligrams; this latter is, however, an abnormally small light egg and very few will be found less than 180 milligrams.

The same number of eggs measure: Average 23.76 by 17.43; maxima, 28.5 by 18.0 and 27.1 by 20.0; minima 20.9 by 16.3 and 23.4 by 15.0 millimeters.

I should, perhaps, not omit to say that though the generally accepted idea that cuckoos’ eggs can be distinguished by their weight is in most cases correct, it is not always so. For instance, I have 37 eggs of this cuckoo taken in shrikes’ nests, and a comparison of weights and measures of the eggs of the two species is as follows:

C. c. bakeri, 37 eggs Lanius n. nigriceps, 100 eggs

Average size: 23.56 by 17.50 mm. 23.60 by 17.9 mm.

Average weight: 232 mg. 215 mg.

Maximum weight: 266 mg. 249 mg.

Minimum weight: 190 mg. 185 mg.

The comparative weight of the eggs of different species of birds varies greatly. Thus Anthus eggs are normally very light while the eggs of Passer are very heavy, two of the former about equaling three of the latter of the same size and, in a few cases, otherwise indistinguishable in coloring, shape, etc. Hoopoes’ and spine-tailed swifts’ eggs are very heavy, far more so in comparison with their size than those of cuckoos.

This shows that weight alone in some cases does not suffice to distinguish cuckoos’ eggs from their fosterers’ eggs, and other comparisons of cuckoos’ eggs with those of other species could be quoted to confirm this. The hard gritty shell with fine pits at wide intervals is a further good distinguishing feature of cuckoos’ eggs, while when blowing it is noticeable that most cuckoos’ eggs have the yolks tinged with flesh color and very pale, while the white is rather more opaque, like the white of a duck’s egg when compared with that of a fowl.

In Europe it is very rare to find two eggs of cuckoos in a nest laid by the same female; in India this is not so rare, and I have on three occasions found three eggs of the same cuckoo in one nest.

It is not possible here to go fully into the fascinating subject of the method of deposition of eggs, but briefly it may be said that it has been fully proved that in many cases cuckoos lay their eggs directly into open nests, an act that has been witnessed by myself, Whitehead, and others in India and proved by Chance (1922) to be the case in England.

There are, however, any number of eggs deposited by cuckoos in nests into which it is utterly impossible for the cuckoo to gain an entrance. Into many of these the cuckoo projects her egg from the cloaca by pressing herself up against the entrance to the nest and ejecting her egg with sufficient force to propel it the 2 or 3 inches that may be necessary for it to reach the nest (Livesey, 1936; A. E. Jones, 1937).

On the other hand, there are many nests to which this method also would not apply, such as nests of small birds, more than 2 or 3 inches inside holes of various character, in some cases a corner having to be turned before the nest is reached. Into these I believe the cuckoo places her egg with her bill, and there is some evidence to support this which I hope to give in my proposed book on “Cuckoo Problems.”

Young.—Incubation, I think, takes usually 12 or 13 days, rarely only 11 days but occasionally extending to 14. The period the nestling remains in the nest is 4 to 6 weeks, but in many cases the nest is far too small to retain the young cuckoo until it is full grown. Thus when the eggs are deposited in the nests of birds such as Cisticola and, to a lesser degree, Suya, the young bird when a quarter grown fills the small egg-shaped nest, sitting in it with its head projecting from the entrance at the top side. Gradually, as the young cuckoo grows, the nest is expanded until it looks like basketwork around it, which finally bursts, depositing him or her on the ground. This generally occurs when the cuckoo has fair feathering and is about half grown or a little later.

The young Khasia Hills cuckoo ejects the fosterer’s eggs or young from the nest in the same way as its English cousin does, possessing the same curious interscapulary pit to assist it in doing so. This structural aid to ejection is found in all such genera as Cuculus, Cacomantis, Penthoceryx, and others that eject their foster brothers and sisters, but not in the young of Clamator, Eudynamis, and those cuckoos that do not commit such murders. In the cuckoos that possess it, the pit soon fills in and young cuckoos lose the impulse to eject after a very short time, sometimes within 4 days and almost invariably within a week of being hatched.

Plumages.—Male: Whole upper plumage and wing coverts a dark slaty-gray or blackish slate, decidedly darker than the same parts in the European cuckoo; the lower back, rump, and upper tail coverts are a purer and somewhat lighter gray; the wing quills and concealed portions of greater coverts more brown, the quills slightly glossed and barred with white on the inner webs of the outer primaries, turning to rufous on the inner primaries; tail ashy black tipped with white and with white notches along the sides of the shafts, the white increasing in extent on the lateral tail feathers; chin, throat, sides of head and neck, and the upper breast ashy gray, not so dark as the back; remainder of lower parts, axillaries, and under wing coverts white with rather irregular bands of black, broader and farther apart than in C. c. canorus. Under tail coverts the same but with the dark bars still farther apart.

Female: Differs in having a rufous tinge on the upper breast and sometimes on the throat and sides of the neck.

Nestling: Naked when hatched.

Juvenile: First plumage; whole plumage brownish gray or slate, obsoletely barred with buffish white; a patch of white on the nape or hind neck; whole lower plumage barred white or rufescent white and dark brown, very heavily on the chin, throat, and breast, and less so on the under tail coverts.

The young male after the first molt is like the adult but nearly always retains traces of the juvenile barring, more especially so on the wings.

Hepatic females have the whole upper parts barred chestnut and blackish slate or blackish brown; the lower plumage has the chin, throat, and breast barred pale chestnut and blackish and generally with a strong rufous tinge on the breast and abdomen.

Young hepatic females are duller in color than the adults and have the feathers of the upper part fringed with white.

Colors of soft parts.—Iris pale to deep yellow, sometimes brownish in young birds of the year; bill dark horny brown, or very dark horny green, paler and yellowish at the base and on the commissure and orange-yellow on the gape; legs and feet wax-yellow.

Measurements.—Wing 220 to 227; tail 155 to 178; tarsus 18 (La Touche) to 19; culmen from feathers of forehead 20 to 22 millimeters (24 La Touche).

Food.—The principal food of this, as of other cuckoos, consists of caterpillars, pupae, chrysalides, and soft insects of any kind. During flights of termites cuckoos may be seen both catching them on the wing and eating them on the ground as they emerge from it. I have also taken Cicadae from their stomachs, and occasionally quite hard beetles of considerable size.

The actions of this bird when attempting, and indeed succeeding in, the catching of termites in flight are very clumsy and labored and their progress on the ground very slow, similar to the progress of certain woodpeckers when hunting a lawn for ants and other prey.

As a rule they feed in trees at some height from the ground, but any plague of caterpillars will tempt them down to quite low undergrowth or even onto low grass in the open, and I once saw four cuckoos all feeding on small green caterpillars on the ground in an open glade in pine forest.

Behavior.—Normally cuckoos are seldom found on any but high trees, often resting in one position for a long time on some lofty branch and then flying to another tree with strong, easy beats of the wing, at a considerable speed. In the breeding season the females undoubtedly mark down the nests in which they intend to deposit their eggs, and they may be seen perched in a tree, watching their victims until these latter give away the position of the nest. While thus engaged the patience of the cuckoo seems inexhaustible, and it will sit for hours in one position, hardly moving, yet obviously watching the intended fosterers, which may be loath to return to their nests though they may come and perch on the same tree as that occupied by the cuckoo, sometimes within a few feet of her. Apparently they not only mark down nests for immediate victimization, but others to be made use of when later eggs are to be laid. At other times they seem to be able to ascertain the approximate, yet not the exact, position of a nest. (Livesey MS.) gives me a most interesting example of this. He writes:

“Yesterday, May 19, 1937, I was out for a walk with my wife about 5 p. m. at Taungyi, which has an elevation of some 5,000 feet. Close to my cottage the dogs chased a bird off a ploughed field, which I recognized as a cuckoo. The cuckoo returned with two chats after her and perched on some bamboo rails, so, suspecting that the chats had a nest somewhere near in which the cuckoo was going to lay, I sat down to wait and watch with my glasses. Back came the cuckoo and flew low over the field almost settling on a place some 50 yards in front of us. Twice she flew backward and forward, chased by the chats, finally settling where I expected the nest to be. I could see her very plainly through the glasses as with throat feathers puffed out and crest feathers sometimes raised she jumped clumsily from clod to clod searching for the nest, straining her neck up and looking everywhere. The chats were now mobbing her furiously and in retaliation she only opened her beak and made faces at them. She did not appear to know where the nest was and began a systematic search for it in an area about 5 by 3 yards. The clods in the field were very large and lumpy with all sorts of holes which might have held a nest, and from time to time she disappeared from sight as she hopped into the various depressions, going backward and forward in the most persistent manner, mobbed all the time by the chats.

“She was, I think, a full 10 minutes searching for the nest, but, at last she dipped out of sight and a flutter of her wings suggested she had found the nest and was in the act of laying. She was out of my sight for about 4 seconds and then sped away in a great hurry.

“We climbed the fence and walking up to the place whence she had flown found a very well-concealed chats’ nest in which by stooping down to the ground I could see that the nest contained two eggs, the cuckoo’s and one of the chat’s; by using the tips of my two fingers I was just able to draw the eggs out, one at a time with considerable difficulty.”

Voice.—The call of the male during the breeding season is exactly the same as that of the European cuckoo, but in winter it also has a single note sounding like chuck softly repeated two or three times. At the beginning of the season the bisyllabic note, from which the bird derives its name, is not perfect and the imperfections cover quite a wide range of variations. Sometimes the note is single instead of double; often it is preceded by a rather hoarse note of the same character as the call, while sometimes the cuck-oo is followed by another hoarser note. The female has the summer bubbling note of its cousin and also certain chuckling notes, very seldom uttered, while in winter it gives vent to the same soft chucks as the male. Whether the female ever calls cuckoo is disputed, but, personally, I am fairly certain that she does, although it may be but seldom. The bubbling note is the call to the male and is also repeated after she has met her mate, but it is then, I think, lower and softer, perhaps an expression of satisfaction.

During the daytime the calling of the male is almost continuous, but that of the female far less so as the former calls in the presence of a female, while the latter does not “bubble” before the male except at the moment she takes to flight and invites him to follow her.

On moonlight nights the male often calls with as much persistency as during the day, but I have never heard it calling on dark nights until dawn is advanced.

Enemies.—Cuckoos have the usual enemies of all bird life, vermin of every kind, which during the breeding season hunt for and devour all the eggs and young they can find. All the civet-cat tribe, snakes, lizards, and iguanas are inveterate thieves of eggs and young, while even more destructive than these are the birds of the crow and magpie tribe, which systematically hunt out the nests and devour their contents. I have often watched the birds of the genus Dendrocitta and Cissa beating over an area in search of nests, quartering it with the care and energy of a spaniel after game. The young birds suffer also very greatly from being too large for the nests in which they are hatched. Half grown they fall out on to the ground, and many, which escape death from vermin, are killed by exposure to heavy rain.

The older birds seem to have no special enemies, their swift flight and comparatively large size saving them from the sudden death so often the fate of smaller, slower birds. At the same time birds of prey undoubtedly attack and kill them just as they would any other bird of similar size and their superficial resemblance—in human eyes—to a sparrow hawk, would certainly not deceive their would-be destroyers even if these were sparrow hawks. Nor do the small birds attack cuckoos because they believe them to be hawks, but because they know them to be cuckoos and, in their own way as objectionable as hawks.

Fall.—The Khasia Hills cuckoo is far more sedentary in character than its nearest relations and, possibly, is originally a sedentary race from which the migratory forms have sprung. I have seen the bird in the Khasia Hills in every month of the year except February and, as it is silent in the winter months and does not call attention to its presence, it is probably even more numerous in its breeding range at this time than has hitherto been supposed, while some individuals may be resident in the same locality all the year round. At the same time migration does take place in some degree and this dark race has been found in winter, certainly, in Bengal, more especially in the eastern districts on the Bay, in Orissa, once by Annandale (MS.), while it extends through Burma, south to Prome (Mackenzie and Hopwood, MS.); south Siam (E. G. Herbert, MS.) and finally, almost certainly, to southwestern China. I have no proof that in the Indian Empire adult cuckoos migrate any earlier than the birds of the year. About September the pleasant call, which has been heard continually up to the end of July and casually up to the end of August, ceases entirely, and the birds are also far less frequently seen on the higher ranges of hills and, by October, nearly all the birds, old and young, have left these and have taken to the lower hills and the broken country at their bases, thence slowly and gradually extending into the plains in the districts already mentioned. It is also possible, of course, that this cuckoo may range farther south in winter than stated above, as records of Cuculus canorus (subspecies?) have been recorded from Madras and from the islands of the Austro-Malayan region, between October and March, some of which almost certainly refer to this form. At present, from the evidence at my disposal, I can neither substantiate nor refute this suggestion, as it is quite impossible to recognize one subspecies from another in the field unless a particularly bright light shows up the comparative slaty darkness of this bird, to an observer with some experience of cuckoos.

DISTRIBUTION

Exact details as to the distribution of the Khasia Hills cuckoo are still wanting as so many records of cuckoos refer merely to the species, Cuculus canorus, while the subspecies is not given or, indeed, in many cases distinguished. The breeding area has been proved to extend throughout the hills of Assam and Burma as far south as Karen-nee and as far east as Yunnan, while Bangs and Peters (1928) consider it is this form that is found and breeds in eastern Tibet and Szechwan. To the west the breeding cuckoo in the Bhutan Hills is undoubtedly of this race, but how much farther west it may extend is not known though, almost certainly, it may be found breeding in the lower Himalayas below Sikkim. Stevens informs me that he believes it does.

A fine series of breeding specimens in the Stevens collection, collected by him in the Sikkim Hills, indicates that the range of bakeri is below 7,000 or 8,000 feet, and that above that, up to 12,000 feet, telephonus is the breeding form.

In the cold weather it extends to the countries mentioned above in this article as being visited on migration. To these may be added that it occurs in Siam, as far south as Bangkok and the Siamese peninsula west of Tenasserim. Finally, extraordinary as it may seem, it has been recorded by Friedmann (Friedmann and Riley, 1931) as having once been obtained in St. Lawrence Island, Bering Sea, an occurrence that entitles it to a place in the American avifauna. This specimen was originally described as belonging to the central and northeastern Asiatic race telephonus, which one might expect would occur at long intervals in Alaska.

Order TROGONIFORMES

Family TROGONIDAE: Trogons

TROGON AMBIGUUS AMBIGUUS Gould

COPPERY-TAILED TROGON

HABITS

This gorgeous Mexican species brings color from the Tropics, all too rarely, across our borders in extreme southern Texas and southern Arizona. Ever since Lieutenant Benson shot an immature male in the Huachuca Mountains on August 24, 1885, it has been known to occur there and in other neighboring localities in Arizona as one of our rarest birds. Specimens have been taken there under circumstances that would indicate that sometime its nest will be found within our borders. An adult female was shot by F. H. Fowler (1903) in the Huachucas during August 1892. Major Bendire (1895) writes: “Another adult female, which evidently had a nest close by, was obtained by Dr. Edgar A. Mearns, United States Army, on June 23, 1892, on the east side of the San Luis Mountains, close to the Mexican boundary line. The long tail feathers in this specimen are much worn and abraded, and look as if the bird had passed considerable time in very limited quarters. Its mate was also seen, but not secured. Judging from the character of the country this species inhabits in southern Arizona, that is pine forest regions, it is probably only a straggler, in the lower Rio Grande Valley in Texas, and does not breed there.”

Mrs. Florence M. Bailey (1923) reports that A. B. Howell discovered a pair of these trogons in the Santa Rita Mountains in southern Arizona in 1918, of which he writes: “While wrapping two birds which I had shot at 6,000 feet in a canyon, on August 4, I looked up and saw a pair of these birds watching me from live oak branches at perhaps a hundred yards. I had an unobstructed view of their bright underparts and characteristic form and flight, and identification was sure. They were very ‘wise,’ and as I carefully approached, they as slowly receded, flying from oak to oak until they separated and I lost them in the denser growth. The trees were almost entirely live oaks here with a very occasional pine.”

Herbert W. Brandt has sent me the following notes on the status of this beautiful bird on the western slopes of the Huachuca Mountains, Ariz.: “The turkeylike call of this rare, semitropical visitor is a common bird note in Sunnyside Canyon and in the lower reaches of Bear Canyon. There are at least three pairs of birds in each of these valleys; and in the morning they noisily call back and forth to one another. These valley floors are usually densely wooded and would make this bird difficult to study were it not for its inquisitive nature, for it is usually easily lured by the ‘squeech.’ One lavishly garbed male and his more modest mate repeatedly allowed me to walk up to within about 20 feet of them before they would fly a short distance and then allow me to approach them again. Each time they both called their hen-turkey-like notes, kum-kum-kum, ever answering my squeeches of a like count and inflection. That this bird breeds in the vicinity there is little doubt, but we did not spend time seeking its home, as Arizona has wisely put it on the permanently protected list, and in consequence this mountain-loving species is becoming common again in its densely tangled retreats.”

A. J. van Rossem (1936) adds the following news:

Regardless of its status in former years, this trogon may now be counted a fairly common summer visitant in the Santa Ritas. Possibly it has always been more numerous than was supposed, for one of the rangers, who has been stationed for many years in the Santa Ritas, knew the bird well and told me of having seen as many as five or six feeding together at a single patch of manzanita. At any rate there were several pairs in Madera Cañon in the summers of 1931 and 1932. * * *

On June 27 [1931], Mr. Gorsuch and I saw or heard eight birds between the forks of the cañon at 6000 feet, and Littleshot Cabin at 7000. On that date a fully adult male was collected by Mr. Gorsuch for the museum at the University of Arizona. On June 28, a very young trogon, about two-thirds grown and evidently just out of the nest, was shot, quite unintentionally, in a patch of oaks at 6000 feet.

At least two pairs were noted on May 30, 1931; “the association in which they were noted was the oak-sycamore growth near the juncture of Upper Sonoran and Transition. Two males (both of which presumably had mates) were heard in the left (north) fork—one at 7000, the other at 8000 feet altitude. These altitudes are in the pine-oak association in the Transition Zone.”

Col. A. J. Grayson (Lawrence, 1874) says that, in western Mexico, “it is to be met with only in the dark forests of the tierra caliente.”

Nesting.—Colonel Grayson says that “it breeds in the hollows of trees like the parrots.” According to Mrs. Bailey (1928), the nest is “reported in cavities in large trees, generally in large deserted woodpecker holes, but also in holes in banks.” There are ten sets of eggs of the coppery-tailed trogon in the Thayer collection in Cambridge, all collected by, or for, Frank B. Armstrong near Ciudad Victoria, Tamaulipas, Mexico, between March 29 and April 27, 1908. If these dates are all correctly recorded, these trogons must breed very plentifully in that region, or Mr. Armstrong’s collectors must have been very industrious. There are a number of sets in other collections from the same locality, all taken by the same collectors. These eggs were all taken from nests in holes in trees, apparently natural cavities; the holes were at various heights, ranging from 12 to 40 feet above the ground; some of the trees were in a river bottom and others in “big woods near town.” The nests were made of various materials, such as hay, straw, trash, moss, wool, down, feathers, vines, and thistledown.

Eggs.—The coppery-tailed trogon lays ordinarily three or four eggs but probably sometimes only two. These are rounded-ovate to nearly oval in shape; and the shell is smooth but not glossy. The color is dull white or faintly bluish white and entirely unmarked. The measurements of 55 eggs average 28.50 by 23.18 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 30.7 by 24.6, 29 by 25, 26 by 22.8, and 29.5 by 22.1 millimeters.

Plumages.—I have not seen any nestlings or very young birds. Ridgway (1911) gives very full and accurate descriptions of all the known plumages of both sexes of this trogon; but his accounts are too long to be quoted in full here, so I shall mention only the most conspicuous features of the different plumages, by which the reader may recognize them.

In the juvenal plumage, in July, the sexes are alike, or nearly so, and closely resemble, on the upper parts, the adult female, except that the central pair of tail feathers have very narrow black tips, instead of broad ones; the next three pairs of rectrices are black, and the two lateral pairs are mostly white, barred with black, except for a large terminal white area; the lesser, median, and to a lesser degree the greater wing coverts are tipped with a large spot of pale buff or buffy white, bordered with black; chin and throat grayish brown above a quite distinct white pectoral band; below this band the under parts are indistinctly barred, or mottled, with grayish brown and grayish white.

This unadulterated juvenal plumage is apparently worn through the first summer and early fall; I have seen it in its purity in birds collected at various dates between July 23 and September 20; but, on the other hand, some specimens show the beginning of a molt before the end of August. During all the remainder of their first year, young birds show more or less continuous progress toward maturity by a gradual and irregular molt. At an early age, between August and November, young males begin to show metallic green feathers in the back and throat, and metallic blue feathers in the rump and upper tail coverts; during winter and spring these metallic colors gradually increase; and on the under parts, below the white band, there is a gradual decrease in the brown and white and a corresponding increase in the “geranium red” of the adult plumage. At the same time, young females are acquiring more and more of the “peach red” of the adult female on the posterior under parts.

These transition plumages may be seen, in the series I have studied, in birds collected in November, December, February, March, April, May, June, and July, during all of which time the juvenal wings and tail are retained. From this I infer that the annual molt occurs in summer and fall and that young birds do not acquire the fully adult plumage until they are at least 15 months old, or perhaps much older.

Food.—Some coppery-tailed trogons that E. C. Jacot collected for me were feeding on wild grapes. Dr. A. K. Fisher wrote to Major Bendire (1895) that “a rancher who raises fruit in Ramsay Canyon stated that the species visited the gardens in considerable numbers, especially during the period when cherries were ripe.” Major Bendire (1895) says of other members of the trogon family: “Their food consists of fruit, grasshoppers, and other insects, and in their actions while catching the latter they are said to resemble a Flycatcher, starting and returning from a perch like these birds, and often sitting for hours in the same place.”

Cottam and Knappen (1939) state that a bird, collected by Dr. Fisher in the Huachuca Mountains in June, “had fed exclusively on the adults and larvae of lepidopterous insects.” They examined the stomach of another bird, collected in October in Mexico, that contained 68 percent insects and 32 percent fruits. The insect food included one grasshopper nymph, long-horned grasshopper eggs, three Mantidae, three stink bugs, other Heteroptera, one leaf beetle, one very large larva of a hawk moth, larvae of undetermined Lepidoptera, and two sawfly larvae. The vegetable food consisted of fruits of cut-leaved cissus, fruit of red pepper, and undetermined plant fiber.

Behavior.—F. H. Fowler (1903) writes:

On June 9, 1892, my father and I accompanied Dr. A. K. Fisher to Garden Canyon seven miles south of the post. We reached the canyon and were riding up the narrow trail bordered with pines and live oaks, when suddenly a beautiful male trogon flew across the path just ahead of us, and perched on a live oak bush on the other side of the small stream which flows through the canyon. The Doctor tried to approach it, but the noise caused by his passage through the thick brush and over the sliding rocks on the hill side alarmed the bird, which from the first had seemed a trifle uneasy, and it was soon lost to view among the trees down the canyon. Higher up among the pines, on the same day, we heard the calls of another which sounded much like those of a hen turkey. While we were eating lunch on the way down, we heard still another calling from the hillside above us, and the Doctor, who found it perched on the lower limb of a pine after a short search, watched its actions for a few moments and then shot at it. It sat erect, the tail hanging straight down, and when uttering the call threw its head back until its beak pointed nearly straight up.

On August 14 of the same year I again found the trogon in Garden Canyon, this time higher up however at the Picture Rocks. A beautiful pair flew up from a fallen pine to the lower limb of a tree, and sat there quietly watching me. I dismounted and fired a reduced charge at the male, but the only effect was that he flew off through the trees unhurt, while the female flew up to a small tree on the hill, where she sat, looking at me until I loaded my gun, when I shot her. At the second shot the male flew up the canyon his beautiful carmine breast gleaming in the sunlight like a streak of flame. Both birds sat nearly erect when at rest, with their long tails hanging nearly straight down. Their flight was nearly like the slow flight of a magpie, until startled, when they flew like a dove and nearly as fast.

Voice.—Mr. Jacot says, in his letter, that the young birds were silent but that the adults had many notes, one of which was “almost like the chattering of our gray squirrel.” A note referred to above was like that of a hen turkey. Dr. William Beebe (1905) says: “The call of the trogon, uttered especially toward evening when it came to drink, was a soft series of melodious notes, reminding one somewhat of the content-call of a hen with chickens. Regularly at dusk two of these birds went to roost in a dense tangle of wild clematis.” Mr. van Rossem (1936) refers to the note of the male trogon as a “loud, hoarse, ‘kóa-kóa-kóa’.” Evidently the bird has a variety of notes.

Field marks.—The shape and posture, referred to above, as well as its brilliant colors, would mark this beautiful bird definitely as a trogon. The only other trogon likely to be met with anywhere within the range of this species is the Mexican trogon, found on the highlands of Mexico. The two species can be recognized in life by the color patterns of the outer tail feathers; in ambiguus these feathers are largely white, barred or vermiculated with black; in mexicanus they are largely black, broadly tipped with white.

DISTRIBUTION

Range.—Southern Arizona, south to central Mexico; accidental in the lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas.

The range of the coppery-tailed trogon extends north casually to Arizona (possibly Santa Catalina Mountains, Huachuca Mountains, and possibly Tombstone); northern Chihuahua (San Luis Mountains and the Sierra de la Campana); Nuevo Leon (Monterey and Montemorelos); and central Tamaulipas (Ciudad Victoria and Soto la Marina). East to Tamaulipas (Soto la Marina, Xicotencatl, Altamira, and Tampico); central Veracruz (Orizaba); and central Oaxaca (Talca and Juchatengo). South to Oaxaca (Juchatengo); Oaxaca (Omilteme and Amula); Michoacan (Tancitaro); and Jalisco (Zapotlan). West to Jalisco (Zapotlan, Ameca, and San Marcos); Nayarit (Mazatlan, Tres Marias Islands, and Mexcatitlan); Sinaloa (Escuinapa, El Limon, Angostura, and San Javier); eastern Sonora (Alamos, Chinobampo, and Guiracoba); and southeastern Arizona (Huachuca Mountains and possibly the Santa Catalina Mountains).

Casual records.—Although this bird can only be considered as rare anywhere in the United States, it appears to be fairly regular in the Huachuca Mountains, Ariz. During the summer of 1877 a trogon was killed near Ringgold Barracks and another at Las Cuevas, Tex. Although not preserved they were fully described, by the persons who shot them, to Dr. James C. Merrill, and were undoubtedly this species.

Egg dates.—Mexico: 23 records, March 29 to June 30; 12 records, April 15 to May 13, indicating the height of the season.

Order CORACIIFORMES

Family ALCEDINIDAE: Kingfishers

MEGACERYLE ALCYON ALCYON (Linnaeus)

EASTERN BELTED KINGFISHER

Plates 12–14

HABITS

Our North American representative of the large and interesting kingfisher family is not so gaudily colored as some of the foreign species and is intermediate in size between the largest and the smallest members of the family, but it is an interesting bird, striking in appearance and voice, and unique in form. Its long, heavy bill and its large head with its prominent crest, contrasting with its diminutive feet and its short tail, seem entirely out of balance and give it a top-heavy appearance. But its peculiar proportions and structure are beautifully adapted for the life it leads; its large beak and head form an effective spearhead for use in its deep plunges, and they are well built to stand the shocks of frequent diving. Unlike the osprey, it does not need to use its feet in fishing; but the short legs and shovellike feet are most useful in shoveling the loose soil from its nesting burrows, after it has been loosened by the powerful beak.

The belted kingfisher, as a species, covers nearly all the North American Continent, breeding from northern Alaska and central Labrador southward to the southern border of the United States. Being essentially a fish-eating bird, its haunts are naturally near large or small bodies of water. It is common on the seacoast and estuaries, where it may be seen perched on some stake or pier, watching for its prey; or along the shore of a lake or pond, its favorite outlook may be the branch of a tree overhanging the water; I believe that it prefers to perch on a dead or leafless branch, where its view is unobstructed. Trout brooks, especially swift and rocky mountain streams, are favorite resorts, where its loud, rattling cry is often heard, as it flies up and down, patrolling its chosen fishing ground and driving away any intruders of its own species; it prefers to play the role of the lone fisherman.

Courtship.—Very little seems to be known about the kingfisher’s courtship. Laurence B. Potter says in his notes: “Sometimes I have watched as many as five or six high up in the air, tumbling and wheeling about, uttering their harsh rattle; they appear to be doing it merely for the joy of flying, or it may be their courtship antics.” Francis H. Allen writes to me: “From courting birds—a group of them—I have heard a mewing note uttered in rapid succession, almost if not quite as loud as the familiar rattle of the species. These same birds—or two of them at least—also kept up a continual, prolonged rattle.”

Nesting.—The nest of the belted kingfisher is almost invariably in a burrow in a sandy, clay, or gravelly bank, excavated by the birds themselves. The site chosen is preferably near water and as near the favorite fishing grounds of the birds as a suitable bank can be found. But such banks are not always to be found in the most convenient places, so the birds are forced to nest in any bank they can find, often at a long distance from any water, such as the embankment of a railroad cut, the cliff of a sand dune, or a bank by a roadside where sand or gravel has been taken out for grading. On Cape Cod, the sandpits made while sanding cranberry bogs are favorite sites. The burrow may be at any height from the base of the cliff, depending on the height of the cliff, but it is usually not more than 2 or 3 feet from the top, though Major Bendire (1895) says that it is sometimes as much as 20 feet below the top of the cliff. The burrow extends inward, sloping slightly upward, for varying distances, usually from 3 to 6 feet, but sometimes as much as 10 or even 15 feet; as kingfishers sometimes use the same burrow for several years in succession, it may be that the deepest burrows are the oldest and have been extended from year to year to provide a fresh, clean nest. The burrow is usually straight, or nearly so, but often it curves somewhat, or makes a more or less abrupt turn to the right or left. One that I dug out ran straight in for 3 feet, made an abrupt turn to the left, and then made a reverse curve, so that the nest was only about 2 feet from the face of the cliff. The entrance and the tunnel itself are not quite circular, being usually about 3½ to 4 inches wide and 3 to 3½ inches high; an occupied burrow can generally be recognized by the footmarks of the bird, a central ridge with a furrow on each side of it, made by the bird as it enters or leaves the nest. The nest is placed in an enlarged chamber, which may be directly at the end of the tunnel, or a little to one side of it, and usually a little above the level of the tunnel. The chamber varies considerably in size and shape but is approximately circular and dome-shaped; it is usually 10 to 12 inches in diameter and 6 to 7 inches in height. Often the eggs are laid on the bare sand or gravel which probably indicates that the nest is a new one, or that the eggs are fresh; oftener, perhaps, the nesting chamber is lined with bits of clean, white fish bones, fish scales, or fragments of the shells of crustaceans; these, I believe, are the remains of ejected pellets and indicate that the nest has been previously occupied by young birds or that the female has been fed on the nest for some time; there is no evidence to indicate that the birds ever bring in such material intentionally.

Bendire (1895) writes:

The time required to dig out a burrow depends largely on the nature of the soil to be removed, taking sometimes two or three weeks, but generally much less. I have personally seen an instance where a pair of these birds excavated a new burrow in a rather friable clay bank near Fort Lapwai, Idaho, to a depth of 5 feet (estimated measurement) in a little over three days. How they managed to dig so rapidly, considering their short and weak-looking feet, with which they must remove the greater part of the material, has always been a mystery to me, and I would not believe them capable of accomplishing such an amount of work had I not seen it done. When not disturbed the same nesting site is resorted to from year to year. Sometimes the male burrows an additional hole near the occupied nesting site, usually not over 3 feet deep, to which it retires to feed and to pass the night.

Dr. Thomas S. Roberts (1932) published the following account on the authority of Miss Frances Densmore, of Red Wing, Minn.:

On April 25, 1928, I found a pair of Kingfishers digging their tunnel at the top of a high cut about a foot below the surface, just where the black loam met the under sand, some one hundred feet, or thereabouts, above the water. They both dug, taking turn and turn about, except when she thought he hadn’t stayed in long enough and sent him back. After watching them for an hour or more I formed a theory as to how they managed it. One would go in and work for two or three minutes and then push the dirt ahead of it to the entrance and fly out over it. No dirt ever came out with the bird that had been digging, but when the other went in there was a veritable fountain spurting out for nearly a minute after it entered. Then this subsided and more digging was done by the bird that had cleared the hole. They kept very close to their schedule of two or three minutes each. On this day the dirt they brought out was sand, but on the 27th it was black loam from above, and I decided that they had got back to their “sitting room.” On May 1 they weren’t working and, as both were in and out at the same time, I judged that there was room to turn and that they would call it done.

Dr. A. K. Fisher wrote to Major Bendire (1895) as follows:

On June 6, 1882, the writer found two nests of the Kingfisher in the side of a railroad cut near Croton Lake, Westchester County, New York. The burrows were placed in a bank not over 7 feet above the roadbed and within 18 inches of the top. That of the first one ran in about 7 feet and turned to the right as it entered the nesting chamber. The seven fresh eggs were placed in a nest of coarse grass, which, although rather scanty, covered the floor of the cavity on all sides. The burrow of the second one extended in about 4½ feet, and, like the other previously mentioned, turned toward the right as the expanded nesting cavity was reached. The nest, which was quite elaborate, was composed wholly of fish scales and bones, arranged in a compact, saucer-shaped mass. The writer made a tunnel from the top of the bank so as to intercept the burrow as it entered the nesting cavity. Viewed through this hole, the nest was a beautiful affair. The scales, which looked as if made of frosted silver, formed a delicate setting for the six pure-white eggs lying in the center, and by the projected light made a most effective picture. On two occasions, near Sing Sing, New York, the writer found the Kingfisher and Rough-winged Swallow using burrows having a common entrance. It is probable in each case that the swallow had commenced its diverging burrow after the larger bird completed its work.

A few cases have been recorded of the kingfisher nesting in other cavities, where suitable sandbanks were not available. Mr. Forbush (1927) says: “Mr. Herbert F. Moulton of Ware, Massachusetts, tells me that he found a kingfisher’s nest in a plowed field on a hillside. The entrance was made in a ‘dead furrow.’” Arthur H. Howell (1932) says: “Baynard (1913) writes that in Alachua County [Florida] the Kingfisher nests early in April in holes in dead trees or stubs over water. He states, also (verbally), that he once found a nest at Clearwater, 4 feet above water in a leaning stub, the entrance hole being on the under side; this nest contained 4 eggs on May 6.”

Beyer, Allison, and Kopman (1908), referring to Louisiana, say:

The character of the nest varies greatly with different conditions of soil. On the coast it is content with such elevations as can be found on the shores, and the burrow is sometimes scarcely more than a pocket in the clayey banks; in the upper districts, the site is often far from water, and the soft, coarse-grained soil renders easy the excavation of a burrow five or six feet deep, enlarged at the end, and often partly lined with leaves and pine straw; and finally, a unique condition exists in the extensive gum-swamps in the lake region of the southeast, where the land—always submerged—is perfectly flat, and nothing stands above water except innumerable trees and stumps of Nyssa; the nest is placed in the top of a decaying stump, with no attempt at excavation.

But tree-nesting is not wholly confined to the southern swamps, for Dr. George M. Sutton (1928) writes:

On May 27th, 1927, while observing Chimney Swifts at Bethany, Brooke County, West Virginia, I saw a Kingfisher fly rapidly across an open field from a near-by deep pool in Buffalo Creek. Wondering that it should thus cross overland, I watched it as it flew to a large, dead sycamore, not far from me, and disappeared in a hole at the end of a short, thick, horizontal stub. Upon going to the tree I heard the buzzing cries of the young birds. Shortly thereafter the male parent flew away as the female came in. The nest was located about ten feet from the ground in a large cavity near the juncture of the bough and the main trunk. The young birds were lying about seven feet from the entrance. The cavity was almost as dark as a bank burrow would have been. It is odd that the Kingfishers chose such a site for their nest, since earthen banks admirably suited to their needs were available along the creek.

Eggs.—The number of eggs laid by the eastern belted kingfisher varies ordinarily from five to eight, the commonest numbers being 6 and 7; on rare occasions as many as 11 or 14 eggs or young have been found in a nest. If the first set of eggs is taken, the birds will dig another burrow, often within a few feet of the first, and lay a second set; sometimes a third, or even a fourth, attempt will be made. But only one brood is raised in a season. The eggs are short-ovate or rounded-ovate in shape; the shell is smooth and rather glossy; they are pure white in color. The measurements of 54 eggs average 33.9 by 26.7 millimeters, the eggs showing the four extremes measure 36.8 by 27.9, 30.8 by 26.4, and 33 by 25.4 millimeters.

Young.—The incubation period is said to be about 23 or 24 days. Bendire (1895) says:

The male does not assist in incubation, but supplies his mate with food while so engaged, and she rarely leaves the nest after the first egg has been laid; at any rate I have invariably found the bird at home if there were any eggs in the nest. Incubation lasts about sixteen days. The young when first hatched are blind, perfectly naked, helpless, and, in a word, very unprepossessing. They scarcely look like birds while crawling about in the nest, where they remain several weeks, their growth being very slow. The excrement of the young is promptly removed and the burrow is kept rather clean. They utter a low, puffing sound when disturbed, and frequently vary considerably in size, as if incubation, in some instances at least, began with the first egg laid. The young, even after they have left the nest for some time, require the attendance of their parents before they are able to secure subsistence for themselves.

I believe that Bendire’s statement above, that the male does not incubate, is incorrect; perhaps he may not do so regularly, or to the same extent that the female does, but several observers have reported finding the male on the eggs, or at least in the nest. The young remain in the nest for about 4 weeks or more, and do not leave it until they are able to fly.

William L. Bailey (1900) made an interesting study of a family of young kingfishers, by digging a hole in the rear of the nesting cavity on four different occasions, taking photographs of the young at four different ages, and filling up the hole each time, so as not to disturb the birds too much. He says that when the young were about two days old they “were not only found wrapped together in the nest, but the moment they were put on the ground, one at a time, though their eyes were still sealed, they immediately covered one another with their wings and wide bills, making such a tight ball that when one shifted a leg, the whole mass would move like a single bird. This is a most sensible method of keeping warm, since the mother bird’s legs are so short that she could not stand over them, but as they are protected from the wind and weather they have no need of her. Their appearance is comical in the extreme, and all out of proportion. This clinging to one another is apparently kept up for at least ten days, for a week later, when nine days old, they were found in exactly a similar position.”

On his last visit, when the young birds were 23 days old, he made an interesting discovery, of which he says: “Taking the precaution to stop the hole with a good-sized stone, I proceeded to my digging for the last time on the top of the bank. This time I found the chamber had been moved, and I had some difficulty in locating it about a foot higher up and about the same distance to one side. The old birds had evidently discovered my imperfectly closed back door, and either mistrusted its security, or else a heavy rain had soaked down into the loosened earth and caused them to make alterations. They had completely closed up the old chamber and packed it tightly with earth and disgorged fish bones.”

Mrs. Florence M. Bailey (1928) makes the following apt quotation from the writings of Professor Herrick:

From the time of birth the young lie huddled in a cluster in their dark underground chamber.... As they grow in size and strength the monotony of sitting still, often with legs and wings interlocked, must become very great, and ... they soon begin to bite and tease one another like young puppies. Should one be hard pressed, the only way of escape lies along the narrow passage, which they naturally traverse head first; but the instinct to return to the warm family cluster is strong, and to do this they are obliged to walk backwards. Again when the rattle of the alma mater announcing the capture of another fish is heard, each struggles to get down the narrow passage-way first, but when the parent enters the hole she hustles them all back.

The young are fed by their two parents while they remain in the nest, and for some time afterward while they are learning to fish for themselves. Mrs. Irene G. Wheelock (1905) made the following observations:

By care in concealment we were able to discover that the adult came to the nest on the first day with no visible supply of food in the bill but with a gullet conspicuously swollen. We had previously excavated the nest from the rear making a false back to it so that it would be protected from the weather and at the same time open easily. As soon as feeding was completed and the adult out of sight, we opened the nest at the false back, took out the young, then one day old, and examined the crops. They contained a dark gray, oily mass, nearly fluid and very ill smelling, but with no bones or scales in it. If fish they were very small and digested. Returning the young fishers to the tunnel, we closed it. Two days later the experiment was repeated with the same results. Four days later, or the seventh day after hatching, we examined again. This time one of the nestlings had swallowed several small fish about one and one half inches long and the others were still hungry. As yet we had not seen either of the adults bring visible food and the most frequent feedings had been forty minutes apart, I believe all by regurgitation. No record was kept from the seventh to the fourteenth day when an examination was made for the third time. We now found the young showing well developed pin feathers, and there were traces of disgorged fish bones and scales in the nest which had not been there before. The crops examined showed fish only slightly digested and regurgitative feeding had evidently given place wholly or in part to fresh food. On this day one of the adults brought several fish, possibly four inches long to the nest in different journeys. Examinations made on the twenty-first day revealed the same food conditions as the fourteenth. The pile of fish bones and scales was a trifle larger but was partially buried in the earth. There was surprisingly little of this debris in the nest or tunnel but the ground seemed to be saturated with fishy oil. On the twenty-eighth day the young kingfishers resented being examined or photographed, and made good their escape when taken from the nest.

Henry R. Carey (1909) writes:

The food brought to the nest-hole consists of various kinds of small fish. It not infrequently happens that one of these fish is too large to be carried by the parent bird into the narrow passage; it is then dropped upon the sand and is allowed to rot. * * * I once found a common salt-water flounder, four and one-half inches long and proportionately wide, which, being rather unwieldy for the parent bird to handle, had been left in this way. Another time I found a young Sculpin (Callionymus aeneus) in the same condition, and, yet again, a live minnow, which, in spite of a great patch on its side devoid of scales, was finally freed in perfect health. * * *

The young birds leave the earth about July 25 [in New Hampshire]. They are a sombre-looking lot, as for several days they sit tamely about the wharfs or venture on short, erratic flights, which makes one feel that they have not yet got used to the light after their long imprisonment underground. It is at this time that both parents and young, somewhat crowded in the vicinity of the home nest by their sudden increase in population, begin to seek out new fishing-stubs, or to use old ones for the first time in the year. When the young are able to care for themselves, the old birds leave them and lead once more the single life which they seem to enjoy most.

At this time of year, frequent quarrels occur among them, mostly about the best fishing spots, and now that strange, whining note, which Herrick describes as resembling the grating of two tree boughs in the wind, is often heard. It appears to be a note of anger; I have heard it when one bird, wanting the perch of another, hovered menacingly over him. Once I saw two birds dive simultaneously for the same spot in the water, the same note escaping them as each reluctantly swerved aside.

Floyd Bralliar (1922) writes interestingly of how the young learn to catch their own fish:

The young birds did not remain in the neighborhood of the nest more than a few days, but those few days were busy ones, for in that brief time the mother was teaching her children how to earn a living. She would perch by their side on an overhanging limb and patiently wait for the glimmer of a fish below. The first day or two she usually caught the fish, beat it into partial insensibility and then dropped it again into the water. The young were persistent in their plea for food, but the mother was as insistent that they catch their living if they got any. There was very little current where they hunted, and a fish did not float out of sight quickly. The young birds would crane their necks and look hungrily at the fish below until finally one more hungry or more bold than the rest would make a dive for it. At first the aim was not good, and the bird would miss even a dead fish more often than he succeeded in catching it. Usually, however, he fluttered about the surface of the water until he got his fish, even tho he had missed it when he made his plunge. * * * During the first few days when the young birds became too hungry, the mother would occasionally relent and feed them, but before the week was over, no matter how hungry they became, no food was coming until they caught it. Within ten days the young birds were catching live fish instead of half dead ones.

Then a young bird would catch his fish, carry it to his perch, whack it over the limb a few times, toss it in the air, catch it by the head as it came down and swallow it with as much skill as his mother. As soon as she was convinced of the skill of each of her brood, she forsook them entirely. I do not know whether she ultimately drove them from the neighborhood or whether they left voluntarily, but when July was past only the old birds were to be seen in the neighborhood.

Henry Mousley (1938), who made a prolonged study of a family of belted kingfishers, estimated the period of incubation to be about 24 days. His report says, in conclusion:

On summing up I find forty-two hours were spent with the birds (May 11-July 24), during which time the young were fed one hundred times, or at an average rate of once in every 25.2 minutes. Of course there were periods when the feeding was much faster, as for instance, once in every 8, 9, 13, 20, and 21 minutes respectively. Sometimes the parents were absent from the nest for long periods of time, such as, 150, 120, 105, 97, 93, 90, 85, 75, 70, and 60 minutes at a time, when of course the young were without food. It was after these long spells that the more rapid feedings generally took place. As already remarked, the male seemed to pay the most attention to this part of the business, for I find of those times when I was perfectly sure of the sex of the parent, the male fed twenty-eight times to his partner’s fourteen, or just double. It was the male parent which was the last seen at the nest previous to the departure of the one surviving young—a male. The food for the most part consisted of small fish, crawfish, minnows, tadpoles, and probably beetles.

Plumages.—The young kingfisher is hatched naked, blind, and helpless, a shapeless mass of reddish flesh, looking much like a very young puppy with a huge conical bill. Its eyes do not open for about two weeks. Within a week, or less, the pinfeathers or feather sheaths appear, and soon the young bird bristles in all the feather tracts with quills like a young porcupine, which grow to varying lengths and show, before they burst, the pectoral band and the general color pattern of the adult. When the young bird is 17 or 18 days old, a remarkable change takes places within the short space of 24 hours, for the sheaths rapidly burst and the juvenal plumage blossoms out all over the body.

In this plumage the young bird looks strikingly like the adult with only minor differences, and the sexes are alike. Young birds of both sexes, when fully fledged, have the pectoral band more or less heavily tipped or mixed with cinnamon, rufous or dull brown; this usually consists of narrow edgings in young males, but in young females many feathers are half or more brown; the rufous band of the female adult is only partially shown in the young female, mainly on the flanks, and it shows to some extent in nearly all young males, some having nearly as much as young females; the crest is darker than in adults, there is more white in the wing coverts, the white tips of the secondaries are more extensive, and the central tail feathers are spotted, as in the adult female. This juvenal plumage is also a first winter plumage, for it is worn without much change until spring. Young birds have a first, prenuptial molt early in spring, which involves most of the body plumage, perhaps all of it, the tail, and apparently the wings also; this takes place between February and April. Adults have a complete postnuptial molt in August, September, and October.

Mr. Brewster (1937a) made some observations on the roosting habits of kingfishers at Umbagog Lake, Maine, of which he says: “Every evening, a little after sunset, two or three Kingfishers resort to Pine Point to spend the night. They fly directly into the forest and go to roost among the densest foliage, often that of spruces and arbor vitaes, growing anywhere from four to ten rods back from the nearest shore.” One that he watched “flew up into a tall, slender Paper Birch, and alighted near the end of a long branch, about thirty feet above the ground. * * * As darkness gathered, the bird settled lower and lower on the branch, and drew in its neck without, however, burying its head in its plumage, for I could still see its bill pointing outward over the breast. At 9 P. M. I went under the tree, and by the light of a lantern dimly made out the Kingfisher, crouching in the same attitude, in exactly the same place.”

Food.—The kingfisher is a fish eater and an expert fisherman, well deserving its name. It evidently prefers fish to any other food and would probably live on fish exclusively, if it were always able to secure all it needed. It catches mainly small fish, preferably not over 6 inches long, and mostly those species that are of little use, or even harmful, economically as far as human interests are concerned. The kingfisher has been condemned by trout fisherman as a great destroyer of trout, but in a large measure unjustly. Kingfishers undoubtedly visit trout hatcheries frequently and can easily catch plenty of trout in the open pools, where the trout have no place to hide and where they are congregated in large numbers; they can do considerable damage in such places, but the trout can be easily protected by placing wire screens over the pools. In the trout streams wild trout are not so easily caught, for, as every trout fisherman knows, the trout are seldom seen in the open places except when darting swiftly across them, but spend their time hiding under overhanging banks, or under logs or stones, and only dashing out occasionally to capture their prey. On the other hand, chubs, dace, suckers, and sometimes sculpins are very common in most trout streams, generally in larger numbers than the trout; they frequent the open spaces, are much slower in their movements than the swiftly moving trout, and consequently are more easily caught. The records show that these neutral or harmful fishes make up the greater part, or nearly all, of the kingfisher’s catch in trout streams. Chub and sculpins are very destructive to small trout fry; and suckers eat quantities of trout spawn; consequently the kingfishers are really doing the trout fisherman a favor by reducing the numbers of these fishes in the streams and should be protected rather than persecuted.

The kingfisher must of necessity do its fishing in clear water, so is seldom seen on muddy streams or ponds, or on those that are choked or overgrown with thick vegetation, such as is often found along trout streams. It usually perches on some stake, snag, or pier standing in the water, or on some bare overhanging branch, where it can watch patiently for some passing fish. Favorite perches of this sort in good fishing spots are resorted to regularly and rival kingfishers are driven away, for the kingfisher is a solitary bird except during the nesting season or while training its young. From such a perch the bird may dive obliquely into the water to seize the fish in its powerful bill; or, rising 30 or 40 feet into the air and scanning the water below it in more active pursuit of its prey, it may stop and hover for a few seconds, with rapidly vibrating wings, and then make a straight or spiral dive directly downward, disappearing beneath the water sometimes for several seconds. It is not always successful in its plunges, as the fish may move and cause a sudden change of direction in the bird’s rapid dive either above or below the surface; but it is not easily discouraged and is always ready to try again. Having secured the fish, it flies with it to some favorite perch, where it beats the fish into insensibility, tosses it into the air, or otherwise adjusts it, so that it can swallow it head first and thus avoid any injury to its throat from the sharp spiny fins. Sometimes the fish is too large to be swallowed completely, in which case the tail must be left protruding from the mouth until the rapid process of digestion enables the bird to gradually work it down. Manly Hardy wrote to Major Bendire (1895) of such a case, and says: “I shot a Kingfisher last spring that had swallowed a pickerel considerably longer than the bird from the end of the bill to the tip of the tail, and the tail of the fish protruding from the throat, while the head was partly doubled back, causing a large protuberance near the vent.”

Where fish are not readily obtainable, especially in the arid regions of the Southwest where the streams largely disappear during the dry season, the kingfisher seems able to make a good living on various other kinds of food. The list includes crabs, crayfishes, mussels, lizards, frogs, toads, small snakes, turtles, grasshoppers, locusts, rickets, salamanders, newts, butterflies, moths, beetles and other insects, young birds, mice, and even berries. On the seacoast, it has been known to feed on clams and oysters, which sometimes results disastrously for the bird. H. C. Hopkins (1892) reports finding a kingfisher with “its bill held fast between the shells of an oyster.” The bird had evidently inserted its bill into the open shell of the oyster, which had closed upon it; “the tongue [was] quite black from non-circulation of the blood, which showed that it must have been held prisoner for some time.” The bird would probably have drowned at the next high tide. Dr. B. H. Warren (1890) reports that a friend of his once caught one of these birds on a hook and line while fishing with a live minnow for bait. He also says: “One day B. M. Everhart found a kingfisher lying on the bank of a small stream. On making an investigation, Mr. Everhart ascertained that the bird was unable to fly, as its bill was tightly clasped in the grasp of a large fresh-water mussel. I have heard of several instances where kingfishers have been captured under similar circumstances, which could naturally lead one to suppose that they feed to a limited degree on the flesh of these bivalves.”

In the Bermudas, kingfishers are said to feed on squids. Walter B. Barrows (1912) quotes Professor Aughey, of Nebraska, as follows: “One that was sent to me to identify in September, 1874, had 18 locusts, in addition to portions of some fish, in its stomach. One that I opened in September, 1876, had mingled at least 14 locusts with its fish diet.” Bendire (1895) caught a kingfisher in a trap baited with a mouse, and believed “that not a few mice, and possibly small birds also, are caught by them during their nocturnal rambles, and they are certainly fully as active throughout the night as in the daytime.”

Kingfishers disgorge as pellets the indigestible portions of their food, such as fish bones and scales, the shells of crustaceans and the seeds of berries; the bones and scales found in the nests are the remains of such pellets. Henry K. Carey (1909) writes:

Only once have I seen a pellet of fishbones and scales being disgorged from the bird’s beak, as he sat on his hunting perch. These pellets are found wherever the birds are accustomed to sit for any length of time. I once found one completely composed of various parts of the shell of a small crab. Only a few days later I had the pleasure of seeing a crab actually caught. The bird captured him by diving in the usual way and took him to a low rock where he proceeded to bang him just as he would have done to a minnow. During this process the crab, which measured an inch and a half sideways across the shell, lost several legs and was dropped upon the rock, from which by a considerable effort he managed to fall by scrambling to the edge with his remaining legs. The bird, perhaps seeing that he was rather a large morsel to swallow whole, then forgot him completely and went on with his fishing.

Ora W. Knight (1908) has seen kingfishers chase and capture moths and butterflies, taking them on the wing. Dr. Thomas S. Roberts (1932) says that they have been known to eat young sparrows; also that “crawfish are pounded and crushed before swallowing, and fish that are too large may be divided into pieces by the powerful bill. Miss Densmore, of Red Wing, once saw a Kingfisher that was making unsuccessful attempts to handle a small turtle. This was thoroughly pounded and variously manipulated but had to be discarded in the end.”

Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1918) writes: “Early in August, 1917, Mr. John Hair, gamekeeper of Mr. R. T. Crane at Ipswich, missed six of a four days old brood of Bob-whites. He had seen a Kingfisher nearby and later the same day saw it perched on the gable end of the little house where the Bob-whites had been hatched, and from there pounce on the young birds as they ran in and out. He shot the Kingfisher, and, on opening the bird, a female, found the legs and feathers of the young Bob-whites in its crop.”

When hard pressed for animal food the kingfisher has been known to eat wild cherries and probably other wild fruits. Dr. Elliott Coues (1878) published the following note from Mrs. Mary Treat about a kingfisher that fished regularly from a private wharf in front of her house in Florida: “When the water is so rough that it is difficult for him to procure fish, instead of seeking some sequestered pool he remains at his usual post, occasionally making an ineffectual effort to secure his customary prey, until, nearly starved, he resorts to a sour-gum tree (Nyssa aquatica, L.) in the vicinity, and greedily devours the berries. Returning to his post, he soon ejects a pellet of the large seeds and skins of the fruit.”

Behavior.—The belted kingfisher is a striking and picturesque feature in the landscape whether in action or at rest. The mountain trout stream would lose much of its charm without the rattling call of the lone fisherman and the flash of his broad, blue wings, as he follows the course of the stream, flying well below the treetops until he glides upward to alight on his accustomed perch, there to tilt his short tail nervously up and down and raise and lower his long crest a few times, as he sounds his battle cry again. At the seashore, too, his trim, unique figure and his conspicuous color pattern, as he perches day after day on his favorite stake or goes rattling along the shore, add color and a tinge of wildness to the scene.

The flight of the kingfisher is strong, swift, and graceful, usually low, but high above the treetops when traveling; often there are five or six rapid strokes followed by a long glide on half-closed wings. Mr. Carey (1909) writes of it:

The Kingfisher’s flight is remarkable for its beauty. How easily those long wings carry him about, as he skims so close over the water that their tips are sometimes wetted, or, as he hovers, his body appearing absolutely motionless, in that wonderful way which few birds can equal, for indefinite periods of time. Sometimes, especially in water half a foot or less in depth, he dives while flying nearly parallel to its surface. Sometimes, in his journeys from perch to perch when fish are plentiful, he dips again and again into the water in this way, reminding one of the Swallow as he gracefully touches the water here and there in his flight over the mill-pond. Again, he drops like a falling stone in a nearly perpendicular line upon his fishy prey.

Again he writes, referring to times of keen competition over good fishing grounds:

On such occasions one bird is often angrily pursued by another. These pursuits are most reckless and enduring in character. One sees the two birds swirl by like two blue flashes of light, to disappear in an instant of time on perfectly controlled wings perhaps far away in the pine woods, almost grazing the tough trunk of some mighty tree, or heading straight for a sheer cliff and rising fifteen feet or more to clear it when it seems that they must be dashed to pieces on the rock. I once saw a Kingfisher, hard-pressed in such a pursuit, adopt a clever means of escape. His pursuer was close upon him—about five feet behind. On they came down the creek, neither bird seeming to gain upon the other. Both were flying at top speed low over the water. Suddenly there was a splash, and the foremost Kingfisher disappeared under the water. The bird behind swept on and lit on a nearby stub, not attempting to renew the chase when his enemy reappeared.

The above was probably a case of one bird defending its territory against the invasion of it by another kingfisher. Frederick C. Lincoln (1924) saw a striking example of this during his field work in the marshes of the Illinois River; he says: “During the period of greatest abundance, practically every channel had its quota of birds, each of which appeared to patrol or to hold dominion over a certain well-defined section.” As many as 8 or 10 birds were encountered, each always confined to its own limited section. One of the boatmen told him that “he took much pleasure in informing club members and others who might be with him in the club launch, just how far the kingfisher then in sight would go and where the next one would be met.”

William Brewster (1937a) watched a kingfisher at Lake Umbagog that “plunged into the water, striking a fish so large, that he had to let it go after a brief struggle, during which he failed to bring it to the surface, although evidently trying his best to do so.”

Voice.—There is not much beauty in the voice of the kingfisher, but the loud rattling call always produces a thrill in the listener; it is a wild, weird, wilderness call that enlivens the solitudes and punctuates the stillness of lonely shores or forest streams; it seems to fit in well with the active vigor of this aggressive guardian of his domain, as a warning to his rivals. It consists of a series of harsh, wooden, rattling notes of great carrying power. It has been likened to the sound made by an old-fashioned policeman’s or watchman’s rattle, a very good description for those of us who are old enough to remember such out-of-date sounds; but it may remind the younger generation of the sound made by certain noise-making instruments used at get-together dinners, political rallies, or other joyous gatherings.

It is not easily expressed in syllables, but Mr. Bralliar (1922) has written it fairly well as rickety, crick, crick, crick. The call varies some under different circumstances, sometimes being quite soft and low, as if in a conversational tone with its mate. The courtship note, referred to above by Mr. Allen, was “a mewing note uttered in rapid succession, almost if not quite as loud as the familiar rattle.” Then there is the whining note, referred to by Mr. Carey above, “resembling the grating of two tree boughs in the wind,” which seems to be a note of anger while quarreling over fishing rights. Brewster (1937a) says that “on such occasions they often utter a harsh cah-car-car-car, quite unlike the usual volley of watchman’s rattle-like notes.”

Field marks.—The kingfisher could hardly be mistaken for anything else. Its shape is distinctive, its large head and crest and its long, heavy bill are all out of proportion to its small body, short tail, and tiny feet. As it flies its great blue wings, its white collar, and its banded breast are unique. Its loud, rattling note proclaims it beyond doubt.

Enemies.—The most serious enemies of the kingfisher are the selfish fisherman, who wants all the fish for himself and begrudges the poor bird an honest living, and the proprietor of a trout hatchery, who is unwilling to go to the trouble and expense of screening his pools to protect his fish. The former shoots every kingfisher he can with misguided satisfaction; the latter either shoots or traps any that visit his pools. A small, unbaited, steel trap is set and fastened to the top of a stake or post near the bird’s favorite fishing pool; if the trap is so set that the pan is at the highest point, the bird is almost sure to alight on it and is caught. Hundreds of kingfishers are caught and killed in this way along private trout streams, or about trout hatcheries, every year.

The natural enemies of the kingfisher are of no great menace to its welfare. The Cooper’s and the sharp-shinned hawks often pursue it, perhaps largely for sport; under the accounts of these two hawks, in a previous volume, will be found references to these attacks and the successful attempts of the kingfisher to escape by diving; it even seems as if the kingfisher enjoyed the sport, judged by its derisive “laughter” at the defeat of the hawk.

The remains of a kingfisher have been found in the stomach of a red-tailed hawk; the former must have been caught unaware, for the hawk is no match for it in flight. The kingbird sometimes makes life miserable for the kingfisher; Fred T. Jencks (1881) writes:

The Kingfisher had poised himself several times to look for fish, and was just moving to do so again as the Kingbird approached and attacked him. The Kingfisher is not a troublesome bird, and always minds his own business. He was entirely unprepared, and acted as though he could not believe that the other had any evil intentions, for he tried to poise again. The second attack seemed to undeceive him, and show him his enemy was in earnest. He vaulted and turned, vainly endeavoring to rid himself of his persecutor. He soon saw he could not save himself by flight and tried diving. As soon, however, as he appeared at the surface he attempted to fly, but the Kingbird, keeping up an incessant twittering, forced him to dive again. Two or three times this was repeated, both birds making considerable noise, until the Kingfisher seemed convinced that escape in that direction was impossible, so he sat like a duck upon the surface, and as his persecutor would swoop at him he would go under. This lasted for some little time, until even the Kingbird seemed wearied and flew away.

Snakes and perhaps skunks or minks may crawl into the nesting holes, while the parent birds are away, and destroy the eggs or young; but it would seem that the formidable beak of the kingfisher, if at home, would prove to be an effective weapon of defense. H. H. Bailey (1907) says: “While digging out some Kingfishers’ nests this season I was surprised to find a dead bird in about every fourth or fifth hole. This I was at loss to account for, as the birds showed no signs of combat or disease, while the plumage was not even disarranged. The bodies, though, seemed to be dried up, with no signs of blood in them, so I presumed that something had crawled into the holes and sucked the blood from them, leaving the carcass intact. This surmise proved correct, as the last hole I dug out contained a large black snake, and a dead kingfisher still warm.”

I quote the above for what it is worth, but cannot agree with Mr. Bailey’s conclusion. I have never heard that the black snake is a blood-sucker and doubt if it would attack a bird as big as a kingfisher. If such well-known blood-suckers as minks or weasels had attacked the bird, there would have been evidences of a struggle. I believe that the snake was looking for eggs. The kingfishers may have died from an epidemic of roundworms or ringworms, which have often proved fatal to these birds.

Frederic H. Kennard told me that while he was fishing on Grand Lake, Maine, he and his daughter heard a splash behind them and their guide saw a kingfisher dive, disappear beneath the surface and not come up. Although they all watched for some time, the bird never appeared. They paddled over to the place where the kingfisher dived but could see no trace of the bird in the water or in the air. They suspected that some of the large fish, pickerel, salmon, or togue, that abound in that lake, may have caught the kingfisher.

Arthur W. Brockway tells me of a nest that was dug into by a skunk and the young devoured, the excavation being made from above the nest.

Winter.—The belted kingfisher is a hardy bird, and remains as far north in fall and winter as it can find open water in which to catch a fair supply of fish. A few kingfishers remain all winter, especially during mild winters, in southern New England, frequenting to some extent the open inland streams, but more regularly along the southern coast from Cape Cod to Long Island Sound.

There, Mr. Forbush (1927) says, “they go into winter quarters in December, especially about river mouths where at that time the little frost-fish come in, and there they remain, unless extreme cold locks rivers and shores in ice.”

They are occasionally seen in winter in the northern tier of States. Dr. L. H. Walkinshaw writes to me from Battle Creek, Mich.: “Along open stretches of water, a few kingfishers can be found during the entire winter. I have several dates for southern Michigan for December, January and February. I have watched them on zero, or near zero, days dive from some dead branch after minnows in the open stream.”

Mr. Skinner says in his notes from Yellowstone Park: “Ordinarily this is a migratory bird, but here a few remain all winter along the streams kept open by hot water. During cold winds and storms, they are often seen in the most protected places, but with feathers all fluffed out. The winter birds noticed have been males, the females not appearing until March 17. In winter, I believe they roost in the tops of the thick cedars in the Gardiner Canyon, but I have no data about the other localities.”

Most of the kingfishers migrate to the more southern States during the late fall, where they find open water and plenty of fish. There they establish regular fishing stations and live their solitary lives, each in its own territory. We often saw one in Florida perched day after day in practically the same spot, presumably the same bird in each case.

DISTRIBUTION

Range.—North America south to northern South America; accidental in the Azores, Ireland, and the Netherlands.

Breeding range.—The breeding range of the belted kingfisher extends north to central Alaska (Kowak River, Fairbanks, and probably Fort Yukon); Mackenzie (Fort McPherson, Fort Wrigley, Fort Providence, and Fort Smith); central Saskatchewan (Knee Lake and Pelican Lake); central Manitoba (Oxford Lake); Ontario (Rossport and North Abitibi River); Quebec (Lake Mistassini, Godbout, and Romaine River); and east-central Labrador (Grand Falls). From this northeastern station the range extends southward through Newfoundland and along the coasts of Nova Scotia and the Eastern United States to central Florida (Micanopy and Clearwater). South to Florida (Clearwater, probably St. Marks, and Chipley); southern Louisiana (Bird Island and Bayou Sara); Texas (Giddings, Corpus Christi, Kerrville, and Pecos); southern New Mexico (Carlsbad and Chloride); and southern California (Escondido). The western limits extend northward through California, Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia (sometimes along the coast) to Alaska (Sitka, Hope, Mount McKinley, and Kowak River).

There are a few records north and west of the range as outlined that may possibly represent occasional nesting. One was seen August 5 and 6, 1915, at a point 100 miles above Bethel, Alaska, and another was seen on July 6, 1917, at Iditerod. MacFarlane (1891) reported seeing several birds in the Fort Anderson region of Mackenzie, but he states that no nests were found. An adult female was taken at Churchill, Manitoba, previous to 1845; one was seen at Fort Du Brochet on September 22, 1920, while the species also has been reported from York Factory.

Winter range.—In winter the species is found north with fair regularity to southeastern Alaska (Sitka and Wrangell); southeastern British Columbia (Okanagan Landing); Wyoming (Yellowstone Park and rarely Wheatland); rarely central Missouri (Marionville); rarely central Indiana (Crawfordsville and Richmond); Ohio (Canton); and southern New Jersey (Cape May). From this point the eastern boundary of the winter range extends south along the coast to southern Florida (Royal Palm Hammock and Key West); the Bahama Islands (Nassau); the Dominican Republic (Sanchez); Puerto Rico (Fortuna); the Lesser Antilles (Anguilla, Antigua, St. Lucia, Carriacou Island, and Los Testigos); and northeastern Venezuela (Cariaco). South to Venezuela (Cariaco, Guarico, and Apure); rarely northern Colombia (Santa Marta); Panama (Barro Colorado Island); and Costa Rica (San Jose). West to Costa Rica (San Jose and Rio Frio) and northward along the west coast of Nicaragua, Guatemala, Mexico, the United States, and British Columbia, to southeastern Alaska (Craig, Ketchikan, and Sitka). Occasionally kingfishers will be recorded in winter from points in the northern United States (Montana, Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts), as well as from northern Ontario (London, Guelph, and Toronto). It also is a winter resident on Bermuda.

The range as outlined is for the entire species, of which two subspecies are currently recognized. The eastern belted kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon alcyon) occupies all the range east of the Rocky Mountains and north to Quebec and Mackenzie; the western belted kingfisher (M. a. caurina) is found west of the Rocky Mountains and north to Alaska and Yukon.

Spring migration.—Early dates of spring arrival are: Pennsylvania—Renovo, February 22; Oil City, March 3; Beaver, March 22. New York—Ballston Spa, March 19; Rochester, March 21; Watertown, March 27. Connecticut—Hartford, March 16. Rhode Island—Providence, February 23. Massachusetts—Boston, March 19; Harvard, March 25. Vermont—St. Johnsbury, March 26; Rutland, April 4; Wells River, April 12. New Hampshire—Tilton, March 28. Maine—Orono, April 6; Portland, April 7; Machias, April 18. New Brunswick—Scotch Lake, April 22. Nova Scotia—Picton, April 6. Prince Edward Island—Alberton, April 17. Quebec—Montreal, April 21; Quebec City, April 24; Godbout, May 5. Missouri—St. Louis, February 25; Kansas City, March 10; Concordia, March 17. Illinois—Chicago, March 11; Odin, March 13. Northern Ohio—Oberlin, February 13. Michigan—Vicksburg, March 8; Detroit, March 20; Sault Ste. Marie, April 11. Ontario—Toronto, March 6; Ottawa, April 5. Iowa—Iowa City, March 7; Sioux City, March 18. Wisconsin—La Crosse, March 11; Madison, March 16; Stevens Point, April 1. Minnesota—St. Cloud, March 23; Minneapolis, March 24. Kansas—Hays, February 7. Nebraska—Valentine, March 3. South Dakota—Vermillion, March 22; Dell Rapids, March 23. North Dakota—Charlson, April 5. Manitoba—Margaret, April 1; Aweme, April 11; Reaburn, April 22. Saskatchewan—Indian Head, April 22; Eastend, April 23. Idaho—Rathdrum, April 9. Montana—Bozeman, March 26; Great Falls, April 13, Alberta—Banff, April 25; Stony Plain, May 12. Northwestern Alaska—Kowak River, May 21.

Fall migration.—Late dates of fall departure are: Alberta—Lac la Biche, September 27; Banff, September 30; Camrose, October 24. Montana—Great Falls, October 1; Big Sandy, October 9; Fortine, October 31 (winters rarely). Saskatchewan—Indian Head, September 20; Eastend, October 5. Manitoba—Killarney, October 15; Aweme, October 25. North Dakota—Rice Lake, October 2; Kindred, October 22. South Dakota—Yankton, October 16; Sioux Falls, November 11. Nebraska—Valentine, October 24; Lincoln, October 30; Red Cloud, November 10. Kansas (sometimes winters)—Hays, November 21; Wallace, November 24; Harper, November 30. Minnesota—Lanesboro, November 16 (sometimes winters); Minneapolis, November 25. Wisconsin—Madison, November 12. Illinois—Rantoul, October 27; Chicago, November 20. Ontario—Toronto, November 3; Ottawa, November 26. Michigan, Sault Ste. Marie, October 16; Detroit, December 4. Quebec—Montreal, October 23. Prince Edward Island—Alberton, October 10. New Brunswick—Scotch Lake, November 5. Maine—Portland, October 13; Phillips, October 17. Vermont—St. Johnsbury, November 9; Wells River, November 23. Massachusetts—Boston, December 13. Rhode Island—Providence, December 2. Connecticut—Hartford, December 26. New York—Watertown, October 31; Rochester, November 13. Northern New Jersey—Elizabeth, December 15. Pennsylvania—Beaver, November 28; Renovo, November 30.

Further insight into the migratory flights of individual kingfishers is provided by banding records. One banded as a nestling at Noblesville, Ind., on June 21, 1924, was killed in the Naches River Valley, Tex., on November 19, 1924, while another, banded on June 30, 1937, at Waukesha, Wis., was retaken at Society Hill, S. C., on November 22, 1937.

Casual records.—At least a part of the reported occurrences of the belted kingfisher in the Old World are unsatisfactory. Two cases, wherein specimens were alleged to have been taken in Meath and Wicklow, Ireland, in the autumn of 1845 are now believed to be based upon fraud. A specimen is supposed to have been taken on the island of Flores in the Azores, but neither its disposition nor the details of collection are known. A male bird was taken, however, in Holland on December 17, 1899, and another was collected on Westmann Island, off the south coast of Iceland, in September 1901.