Part 2 — Introduction (continued 4)

Casual records.—Spotted sandpipers have been detected twice in Argentina, Concepcion on March 4, 1918, and mouth of the Rio Ajo, October 25, 1920 (Wetmore). It also has been reported from Europe on numerous instances, among which the following cases from the British Isles, seem to be authentic: Two near Belfast, July and September, 1928; one near Whitby, March 29, 1849; one at Kingsbury Reservoir, Middlesex (date ?); two at Warrington, Lancashire, May, 1863; two at Eastbourne, Sussex, in October, 1866; and two at Aberdeen in August, 1867 (Dalgleish).

Egg dates.—Labrador: 7 records, June 1 to July 16. Quebec to Nova Scotia: 53 records, May 20 to July 4; 27 records, June 15 to 19. New England and New York: 41 records, May 19 to July 9; 21 records, May 30 to June 13. Ohio to Iowa: 16 records, May 14 to July 6; 8 records, May 31 to June 16. California to Washington: 13 records, June 7 to July 7; 7 records, June 15 to 28. Alaska and Mackenzie: 26 records, June 10 to July 22; 13 records, June 15 to July 7.

NUMENIUS AMERICANUS Bechstein

LONG-BILLED CURLEW

HABITS

One can not see this magnificent bird for the first time without experiencing a thrill of enthusiasm for the largest, one of the most interesting and notable of our shore birds, one that seems to embody more than any other the wild, roving spirit of the vast open prairies. Its large size, its long, curving bill, the flash of cinnamon in its wings, and above all, its loud, clear, and prolonged whistling notes are bound to attract attention. In its former abundance this species must have been a most striking feature of the western plains, as it flew in large wedge-shaped flocks in full cry. The last of the great open prairies are rapidly disappearing; and with them are going the curlews, the marbled godwits, the upland plover, the longspurs, and a host of other birds that can not stand the encroachments of agriculture.

The long-billed curlew formerly bred over a large portion of central North America, including all of the prairie regions, at least as far east as Michigan and Illinois, and probably Ohio. But, with the settling of the country and the disappearance of the prairies, it has been gradually driven farther and farther west, and even there into a more and more restricted range. It seems to me that we can hope for its survival only on the maintenance of large, open ranges as grazing lands for cattle where it still continues to breed.

It was apparently quite common as a migrant in New England up to about the middle of the last century. The birds seen here were probably migrants from the more eastern prairies. The numerous citations given by Edward H. Forbush (1912) show its gradual decline, until now it is only a rare straggler anywhere on the Atlantic coast. In Audubon’s time it was abundant in winter and as a migrant on the coasts of Florida and South Carolina. I have never seen one during my various seasons in Florida and Arthur T. Wayne (1910) says:

Since 1885 is has been supplanted by the Hudsonian curlew (N. hudsonicus), which is still exceedingly abundant during the spring and autumn migrations. From 1879 to 1885, americanus was to be found in the immediate vicinity of Charleston, but its numbers steadily diminished year after year until at the present time it is so rare that it is seldom seen; in fact I have not seen one since September 23, 1899. Audubon, in his Birds of America, states, upon the authority of Doctor Bachman, that this curlew “breeds on the islands on the coast of South Carolina, and it places its nests so close together, that it is almost impossible for a man to walk between them without injuring the eggs.” It may appear hypercritical to question Doctor Bachman’s statement that this species bred on the coast islands, but the eggs were not described by either Audubon or himself, and as far back as 1879 there were no eggs of N. americanus in the Charleston Museum, while the eggs of the “Stone Curlew” (Catoptrophorus semipalmatus) were well represented and were classified as eggs of the long-billed curlew, I have been unable to obtain any evidence, even from the “oldest inhabitants,” that this species ever bred anywhere on the South Carolina coast.

Dr. Thomas S. Roberts (1919) says of its status in Minnesota:

As late at least as 1883 it was still breeding in southern Jackson County (J. W. Preston) and Gleason saw a single bird of this species near Euclid, Polk County, on June 17, 1897, which at that date may be assumed to have been a breeding bird. This report of Gleason’s is the very last record of the long-billed curlew in Minnesota known to the writer. It ceased to be generally abundant somewhere about 1880 and rapidly decreased in numbers, even as a migrant, until it disappeared entirely about the close of the last century.

It apparently ceased to breed in Illinois before 1880; the last published breeding record was in 1873. It probably still breeds in the interior of Texas and perhaps on the coastal prairies as well, for J. J. Carroll writes to me that on July 9 and 10, 1926, he saw 8 or 10 long-billed curlews near Matagorda Bay that acted as if they had young. It is now a very rare bird at any season east of the Mississippi River.

Spring.—The spring migration is now a general northward movement throughout the western half of the United States; there was formerly a heavy flight up the Atlantic coast as far as the Carolinas and a straggling flight farther north. The migration begins in March, but the main movement is during April and most of the birds reach their breeding grounds in April. Only one of my correspondents in Manitoba and Alberta mentions the long-billed curlew and he has seen only one in 15 years; so it must be disappearing very rapidly there.

Courtship.—The spring behavior of these curlews, or what might be called a nuptial flight is thus described by P. M. Silloway (1900):

After their arrival, the curlews inhabit the high, dry prairies, flying restlessly from one portion to another, showing a tendency to associate in pairs, though as couples, these birds are not inseparable. In the mating season, one of the pair is likely to follow the other in a few moments, when the first bird has flown far over the prairie to a more distant station. At any time the loud, prolonged whistling of these birds, either when on the ground or a-wing, will call attention to their movements, warning the disturber of their domain that his presence is known and that his actions will be watched with the closest interest.

One of the pleasing sights to the ornithologist in watching the behavior of these curlews is seen when a pair are sailing upward in company abreast of the wind, moving in perfect accord on widespread, motionless pinions curved gently downward, within several feet of each other, then fluttering downward side by side or one in advance of the other, again to sail upward, uttering the characteristic whistles.

Nesting.—The long-billed curlew is likely to nest almost anywhere on the boundless prairie, though we have found it, in Saskatchewan, showing a decided preference for damp, grassy hollows in the prairie, or long slopes near the lakes or watercourses. The nest is a very simple affair, a slight hollow in the ground, usually thinly lined with grasses or weeds; but sometimes quite a substantial platform of grass is made and slightly hollowed. The female is often quite conspicuous, as she sits on the nest with her neck stretched out on the ground, and can sometimes be seen at a distance of 100 feet; she usually sits very closely and can sometimes be approached within 8 or 10 feet before flushing.

In some notes sent to me by A. O. Treganza, from Box Elder and Weber Counties, Utah, he says that in one “particular locality (Weber County) the birds seem to be quite gregarious, possibly due to food conditions. While there are many square miles of what seems to be similar country, they seem to have chosen a very small area in which to breed.” Here he found sometimes two females sharing the same nest, resulting in sets of from five to eight eggs. In other localities, in Box Elder County, they do not seem to be at all gregarious. In one instance he found four eggs of the western willet and one of the curlew in a nest, with both the willet and curlew on guard.

P. M. Silloway (1903) has had some extensive experience with the nesting of the long-billed curlew in Fergus County, Mont. Some of his nests were on the high dry prairie a long way from any water, but most of them were in such situations as I have described above. Several of his nests were in depressions beside dried cow dung, where, perhaps, the bird was not quite so conspicuous; and chips of dried cow dung often entered into the composition of the nest. In a typical nest “the cavity was 8 inches across and 2 inches deep. The brim of the nest was elevated an inch and a half above the surroundings.” He has written (1900 and 1903) some interesting accounts of his experiences in hunting for nests, and sums up the behavior of the birds as follows:

The male curlew is a most jealous guardian of the premises near the nest. When the female is sitting on her eggs, the male will denote a watchful interest in the movements of anyone who is within several hundred yards of the nest. At such times he will come flying from some quarter of the pasture, and with angry cackling will alight near the disturber, impatiently feeding and watching the movements of the one threatening the peace of his household. If the observer approaches nearer the nest the male will begin to fly at him in a straight course, turning upward abruptly with a loud whiff of wings when it stems that the disturber must certainly be struck by the determined defender of his home. The nest may still be more than a hundred yards beyond the observer. In the majority of instances it lies ahead in the line the male points in his flight. As the disturber gets nearer, the male shows more distress and flutters wildly overhead, flying at the disturber from every direction, though not from long distances as before. All the while the female is sitting unconcerned on her eggs, indifferent to the angry and distressed cackling of her spouse. Perhaps by this time a half dozen or more other males have joined in the outcry, and frequently one of these allies will try to mislead the disturber.

The female sits very closely upon her eggs, flattening herself upon them in such a manner that she resembles a dead chicken lying on the ground. When flushed from the nest she will fly low for 30 or 40 feet or flutter from the nest and run awkwardly for a short distance, feigning to be crippled. Frequently she will lower her head, with bill almost touching the ground, and run along in a shamefaced manner. Before the nest is discovered the males who are aiding to mislead the observer will sometimes act in this shamefaced way.

Eggs.—Four eggs are ordinarily laid by the long-billed curlew, occasionally five; as many as eight have been found in a nest, evidently the product of two females. The eggs vary in shape from ovate to short ovate or ovate pyriform, sometimes quite rounded; and they have a slight gloss. The prevailing ground colors are in various shades of “olive buff”; but some dark types are “ecru olive,” some green types are “seafoam green” and some are as pale as buffy white. The eggs are generally quite evenly spotted, some very thickly and some very sparingly, with various shades of brown and olive, “Van-dyke brown,” “bister,” “snuff brown,” “buffy brown,” and “buffy olive,” with numerous underlying markings in various shades of “brownish drab” and “drab gray.” A very handsome set has a rich buff ground color, between “honey yellow” and “chamois,” uniformly covered with small spots of rich browns, “Sudan brown” to “russet.” The measurements of 68 eggs average 65 by 45.8 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 72 by 48, 70 by 48.5, 56 by 43.5, and 62.5 by 42 millimeters.

Young.—Incubation is said to be shared by both sexes; its exact duration does not seem to be recorded, but for the European curlew it is said to be 30 days. Both birds are certainly very solicitous in the care of the young. We were too late for eggs in Saskatchewan, but we found three broods of young. On June 1, 1905, we found two small young curlews, hardly able to walk, in a grassy hollow in the prairie; the old birds gave us a great exhibition of parental solicitude, flying about, alighting on the ground near us and making a great outcry. Their loud cries brought a third curlew which joined in the chorus of whistling cries.

When large enough to run, the young are adepts in the art of hiding; they seem to disappear entirely, even in the short grass; after hunting carefully for fully half an hour, over a limited area where we had seen one vanish, we gave it up and walked away, when we were surprised to see the youngster get up and run away from the very spot we had been hunting hardest.

Probably the mortality among young curlews is rather high, as they have many enemies. All three of the broods we found contained only two young. The parents have to work hard to preserve even this average. We saw an interesting exhibition of parental strategy one day, which probably succeeded in saving some young curlews from the jaws of a prowling coyote. The curlew was decoying the coyote away by feigning lameness, flopping along the ground a few yards ahead of him, but always managing to barely escape him. We watched them for some time until they finally disappeared over a hill, fully half a mile from where we first saw them.

Plumages.—The young curlew, when first hatched, is completely covered with long, thick, soft down. The color varies from “warm buff” on the breast and flanks, to “cream buff” on the face, upper parts and belly and to “cream color” on the throat; the crown is even paler. The markings, which are brownish black in color, consist of a broken and narrow median stripe on the forehead, irregular spotting on the posterior part of the head and large, bold, irregular spotting on the back, wings, and thighs. In older birds the bright buffs fade to paler shades.

I have seen no specimens showing the change from downy to juvenal plumage. The latter is very much like that of the winter adult, but it is somewhat more tawny, especially below, and the streaks on the neck and breast are fewer and narrower. The first winter plumage is apparently a continuation of the juvenal, subject to some wear and fading, and with very little molting. By spring young birds are practically indistinguishable from adults.

Adults have a complete postnuptial molt from August to November, most of which is accomplished in September and October, including the wings. The prenuptial molt, which involves the body plumage, most of the scapulars, many wing coverts and the tail, is prolonged through the spring, from February to June.

Food.—On their breeding grounds, and to a large extent in their winter quarters, these curlews are upland feeders, far out on the open prairies, in the damp, grassy hollows, or about the edges of prairie sloughs or ponds. But on migrations they are often seen feeding on ocean beaches or about the shores of large lakes. I have seen them on the beaches of southern California feeding at the surf line in company with marbled godwits. They were wading out into the retreating waves, picking up some small objects about an inch long or less, probably mollusks. They seemed to experience some difficulty in properly grasping the morsel with the tips of the long mandibles, but when once started right they handled it very skillfully, as the shell seemed to travel swiftly up the long bill and into the mouth. They are said to probe in the soft sand to the full extent of the long bill, but I did not see them do this.

C. W. Wickersham (1902) has described the food and the feeding habits of the long-billed curlew very well as follows:

Crawfish, small crabs, snails, periwinkles, toads, worms, larvae, grasshoppers, crickets, beetles, caterpillars when found on the ground, spiders, flies, butterflies, and berries, especially dewberries, all play minor or major parts in their diet. The worms, larvae, etc., are pulled out of the ground by the long bill, the end of which may act as a finger having separate muscles to control it, and often it is sunk into the ground as far as it will go to reach some unwilling victim. The crustaceans are taken on the beach, or, discovered beneath the surface by the probing bill, are pulled out and eaten. The berries are neatly picked off the bushes, while butterflies and other insects are taken on the wing.

Behavior.—Except on their breeding grounds, where they are concerned in the welfare of their eggs or young, long-billed curlews are exceedingly wary; when a flock is feeding, one or more birds usually stand as sentinels, and at their cry of warning the whole flock raise their wings and make off. Their flight is a bit erratic or snipelike at first, but when well under way it is strong and steady. While migrating or traveling for long distances they often fly high in the air in wedge-shaped flocks, uttering occasionally their loud, whistling notes. When alighting they drop nearly to the ground, make a graceful upward sweep, and check their speed with a flash of cinnamon wings. They walk gracefully and swiftly on land and can swim if necessary.

The night roosting habits are well described by Audubon (1840), who saw them at their best in South Carolina. He writes:

The long-billed curlew spends the day in the sea marshes, from which it returns at the approach of night to the sandy beaches of the seashores, where it rests until dawn. As the sun sinks beneath the horizon the curlews rise from their feeding grounds in small parties, seldom exceeding 15 or 20, and more usually composed of only 5 or 6 individuals. The flocks enlarge, however, as they proceed, and in the course of an hour or so the number of birds that collect in the place selected for their nightly retreat sometimes amounts to several thousands. As it was my good fortune to witness their departures and arrivals, in the company of my friend, Bachman, I will here describe them. The sun at length sunk beneath the water line that here formed the horizon, and we saw the birds making their first appearance. They were in small parties of 2, 3, or 5, and by no means shy. These seemed to be the birds which we had observed near the salt marshes as we were on our way. As the twilight became darker the number of curlews increased, and the flocks approached in quicker succession until they appeared to form a continuous procession, moving not in lines, one after another, but in an extended mass, and with considerable regularity, at a height of not more than 30 yards, the individuals being a few feet apart. Not a single note or cry was heard as they advanced. They moved for 10 or more yards with regular flappings, and then sailed for a few seconds, as is invariably the mode of flight of this species, their long bills and legs stretched out to their full extent. They flew directly toward their place of rest, called the “Bird Banks,” and were seen to alight without performing any of the evolutions which they exhibit when at their feeding places, for they had not been disturbed that season. But when we followed them to the Bird Banks, which are sandy islands of small extent, the moment they saw us land the congregated flocks, probably amounting to several thousand individuals, all standing close together, rose at once, performed a few evolutions in perfect silence, and realighted as if with one accord on the extreme margins of the sand bank close to tremendous breakers. It was now dark and we left the place, although some flocks were still arriving. The next morning we returned a little before day, but again as we landed they all rose a few yards in the air, separated into numerous parties, and, dispersing in various directions, flew off toward their feeding grounds, keeping low over the water until they reached the shores, when they ascended to the height of about a hundred yards and soon disappeared.

A similar habit evidently prevails on the prairies, which Mr. Wickersham (1902) describes very well as follows:

As evening falls he becomes restless, his hunting comes to an end, his bobbing becomes more jerky and more and more repeated, until with a loud whistle he jumps forward, his long wings fly out and up and with the first unsteadiness over he joins the bunch in a long line and betakes his way with the others toward some distant marsh or pond. On, on they go; the leader whistles, the others answer, suddenly they all drop, sweep forward and up a little, and then, with wings almost meeting above them and legs held daintily down to break the shock, they all alight. For five minutes there is no movement, no sound; there are no birds to be seen where, a moment before, the graceful creatures had alighted; suddenly there is a little flutter of wings and before you know it numerous forms have run forward and bent over the water to noisily quench their thirst. For another five minutes there is as great a confusion and clamor as formerly there was order and quiet; wings are fluttering, hoarse, short cries are arising, feet are pattering up and down, the water is heavily rippling from the motion of many bills, and, in a word, all is chaos. One by one the drinkers cease, calmness is gradually restored, and, after pluming themselves, the birds draw one leg up under them, tuck their head under one wing, neatly fold the other, and sweet slumber reigns.

On its behavior with other species Mr. Silloway (1900) writes:

There is another side to the disposition of the long-billed curlew, for this spring I was once startled by an unusually piercing whistle, and looking upward I saw a curlew swooping angrily upon a ferruginous roughleg that had chanced to wander over the claimed domain of this pair of Numenii. Time and again the curlew swooped upon the unoffending Archibuteo as the latter flapped heavily along the edge of the coulee, and the cliff echoed with the shrill whistles of the angry curlew. On the other hand, the long-billed curlews are the victims of petty teasing by the longspurs which throng the prairie. I have repeatedly noticed McCown’s longspur (Rhynchophanes mccownii) flutter up beside a curlew, sailing upward, or attempt to strike the curlew, the latter on such occasions seldom giving any attention to the petty annoyance mentioned.

E. S. Cameron (1907) says that he has seen nesting curlews make flying attacks at Swainson and marsh hawks, just as the European curlews attack the jaegers.

Voice.—Long-billed curlews are noisy birds, especially on their breeding grounds. I have recorded their ordinary notes of protest, when near their nests or young, as loud musical whistles, like quee-hee, quee-hee, quee-hee, sometimes prolonged into a long, rattling call, que-he-he-he-he-he, loud and striking. Sometimes we heard a series of somewhat guttural notes, or a melodious coy, coy, coy, somewhat like the autumn gather call of the bobwhite. I have heard them in Texas in the spring give rich, loud, musical notes as they flew, wheety, wheety, wheety, very rapidly uttered, opening the bill with each note. Our name “curlew” and the French “curlieu” are probably both derived from one of the commonest and most characteristic calls.

P. A. Taverner (1926) says:

The commonest call note is a clear pil-will, so nearly like that of the willet that it can not always be distinguished from it. Other notes resemble those of the upland plover. One especially delightful is a long-drawn curl-e-e-e-u-u-u, sparkling clear and rising in the middle about five notes, then dying gradually away, lowering in scale and volume. The entire call lasts about three seconds of time.

Field marks.—The long-billed curlew can be easily recognized by its large size, long, curved bill, and cinnamon color. It is much larger than the Hudsonian and much more cinnamon in color, especially in the wings. It is much like the marbled godwit in color, but its curved bill is easily distinguished from the straight bill of the godwit.

Fall.—I quote again from Mr. Wickersham (1902) as follows:

July is spent in raising the chicks and by the middle or latter part of August, all is ready for the flight south to Texas, Mexico, Florida, and the West Indies. Then it is that we see them in great flocks of hundreds, bobbing up and down all over the prairie, more nervous than ever; and then it is that they are least wary at times and at other times so very wary that it is impossible to approach them. They are so nervous and upset that they do not seem to know their own mind and it is at that season of the year that their antics become almost as ridiculous as they are just before the breeding season. The day comes when you stroll out to take notes on the birds that you have seen by the hundreds the day before only to find that they have disappeared; not a bird answers your call, no hoarse screaming betokens your approach; they have gone, gone far away in long V-like squadrons and, unless you follow them to their winter home in the southland, you will not see their familiar forms for many months.

The long-billed curlew is now practically unknown in any of the Eastern States, but it formerly appeared on the Atlantic coast about the middle of July and in the Southern States in early August. It is still quite common in California from the middle of July through September. The main flight goes directly south to Texas and Mexico.

Game.—Although long since removed from the game-bird list, the “sickle-bill” was a fine game bird. Its large size made it a tempting target. It decoyed readily and could be easily whistled down by imitating its notes. The cries of a wounded bird were sure to attract others, which would circle around again and again until many were killed. For these and other reasons it is well that the much-needed protection came in time to save this fine bird from certain extermination.

Dr. D. G. Elliot (1895) writes:

Once when shooting in Florida, in the vicinity of St. Augustine, a large flock of these birds passed overhead, and I brought down some by two shots from my gun. Although naturally much alarmed, the survivors immediately returned to their wounded companions, which were calling aloud as they lay upon the marsh, flying over and around them, with hanging legs, and uttering answering notes of sympathy, and approaching nearer and nearer until they were not many feet above the ground. Repeated discharges of my gun failed for a time to drive the unwounded birds from the vicinity, but as each individual fell from the ranks, the rest would swoop toward it, and with much crying seem to urge it to rise and follow them. The air was full of rapid-flying circling birds, each one screaming its best, and it was not until a considerable number had fallen that the remainder, convinced at length of the fruitlessness of their efforts, and the danger present to themselves, departed for a more secure locality.

Winter.—The long-billed curlew is still quite common in Texas and Mexico in winter. Mr. Wickersham (1902) says:

After reaching its winter home, the curlew undergoes little change of habits except in his relation to other birds. For a few days the big bunches stay together and then they begin to separate into small bunches of from 2 to 20 birds. It is rarely that a single one is seen entirely by himself but two or three feeding together and then, perhaps a mile off, two or three more and in this way scattered all over the pastures and prairies is the way we find them in Texas. They are rarely found in the brush or even in ponds or swales surrounded by the brush, but far out on the open prairie or in little mud flats on the larger swales we rarely miss them. Here they feed all day looking for almost any form of insectivorous or crustacean life.

DISTRIBUTION

Range.—North and Central America, accidental in the West Indies and Newfoundland. Failure to accurately separate the different curlews, particularly on the Atlantic seaboard, causes some uncertainty regarding their general ranges, but americanus is evidently now very rare east of the Mississippi River.

Breeding range.—The long-billed curlew breeds (at least formerly) north to British Columbia (150-mile House, probably Lac La Hache, and Vernon); Alberta (near Calgary, probably Flagstaff, and Walsh); Saskatchewan (Rush Lake and Quill Lake); Manitoba (Shell River, Aweme, and Pilot Mound); North Dakota (Bathgate and Argusville); and Wisconsin (Ceresco and Racine). East to Wisconsin (Racine); Illinois (formerly Chicago); Iowa (Newton and formerly Ferry); Kansas (Neosho Falls); Oklahoma (Camp Supply and Ivanhoe Lake); and Texas (Houston, Corpus Christi, and Brownsville). South to Texas (Brownsville, and Fort Davis); New Mexico (Fort Sumner, Santa Rosa, Los Pinos, and Fort Wingate); Arizona (Sulphur Springs); Utah (Fairfield, and Skull Valley); Nevada (probably Franklin Lake, Humboldt River, and Truckee Valley); and northern California (Pitt River, Butte Valley, and Eagleville). West to California (Eagleville); Oregon (Fort Klamath, Camp Harney, Haines and Dalles); Washington (Kiona, Yakima, and Wapato Lake); and British Columbia (Okanagan, Vernon, and 150-mile houses).

Winter range.—The winter range extends north to California (San Rafael and Sacramento Valley); southern Arizona (Pima County); rarely New Mexico (Demning, Santa Rosa, and Carlsbad); Texas (Pecos, San Angelo, Clay County, and Victoria); Louisiana (Vermilion Bay); and formerly South Carolina (Charleston). East to formerly South Carolina (Charleston and Frogmore); Georgia (Savannah, Sapelo Island, and Darien); and Florida (mouth of the St. Johns River, Tarpon Springs, and Fort Myers). South to Florida (Fort Myers); and rarely Guatemala (Duenas, and Chiapan). West to rarely Guatemala (Chiapan); Oaxaca (Juchitan); Jalisco (La Barca); Durango (Rancho Santriario); Lower California (San Jose del Cabo, La Paz, Magdalena Bay, and San Quintin); and California (San Diego, Owens Lake, San Joaquin Valley, San Francisco, and San Rafael).

Spring migration.—Early dates of spring arrival are: North Carolina, Corolla, April 15, Virginia, Chesapeake, April 15, and Locustvile, April 16; District of Columbia, Washington, April 11; New York, Montauk Point, April 28; Maine, Scarboro, May 2; Missouri, Warrensburg, April 1, St. Louis, April 2, and Appleton City, April 3; Illinois, Mount Carmel, April 4, Quincy, April 10, and Canton, April 15; Indiana, Liverpool, April 2; Iowa, Mitchell, April 3, Ferry, April 13, and Coralville, April 15; Minnesota, Hallock, April 24; Oklahoma, Sentinel, April 5; Kansas, Emporia, April 9, and Manhattan, April 13; Nebraska, Valentine, March 28, Long Pine, March 29, Whitman, March 31, and Alda, April 3; South Dakota, Vermilion, April 5, and Rapid City, April 10; North Dakota, Argusville, April 8, Charlson, April 14, and Larimore, April 15; Manitoba, Aweme, April 9, Margaret, May 2, and Killarney, May 4; Saskatchewan, Eastend, April 16; Ravenscrag, April 28, Osler, May 7, and Indian Head, May 9; Colorado, Springfield, April 3, Colorado Springs, April 11, Denver, April 15, and Salida, April 29; Utah, Salt Lake County, March 28, and Camp Floyd, April 12; Wyoming, Sheridan, April 13, Cheyenne, April 15, and Jackson, April 18; Idaho, Grangeville, March 14, and Neeley, March 15; Montana, Great Falls, April 5, Terry, April 7, Corvallis, April 7, and Big Sandy, April 13; Alberta, Provost, April 22, Veteran, May 2, and Flagstaff, May 14; Oregon, Malheur Lake, March 28, Klamath Falls, March 28, Narrows, March 30, and Lawen, April 1; Washington, Prescott, March 23, and Chelan, April 6; and British Columbia, Okanagan Landing, March 29, and Osoyoos Lake, April 1.

Late dates of spring departure are: Florida, Palma Sola, May 11; North Carolina, Cape Hatteras, May 20, and Cape Lookout, May 24; Maryland, Hail Point, May 23; Missouri, Corning, May 25; Tepic, San Blas, April 28, and Los Penas Island, May 5; and Lower California, Turtle Bay, April 14, and mouth of the Colorado River, May 15.

Fall migration.—Early dates of fall arrival are: Lower California, San Quintin, July 4, and San Jose del Cabo, August 26; Sonora, Altar, September 14; New Hampshire, Rye Beach, August 12; Massachusetts, Amesbury, July 21, Plymouth, August 9, and Cape Cod, August 27; Rhode Island, Newport, July 15; New York, Orient Point, July 9, and Long Beach, July 24; Maryland, Ocean City, August 19; South Carolina, Frogmore, August 7, and Ladys Island, August 9; Florida, Tarpon Springs, July 5; and Alabama, Dauphin Island, August 21.

Late dates of fall departure are: British Columbia, Okanagan Landing, October 29; Washington, Grays Harbor, October 7; Oregon, Klamath Lake, November 19; Montana, Big Sandy, August 25, and Choteau, September 4; Idaho, Neeley, October 1; Utah, Fillmore, November 19; Wyoming, Cheyenne, August 9, and Yellowstone Park, August 22; Colorado, Denver, September 12, Yuma, September 30, and Barr, October 22; Saskatchewan, Eastend, August 6, and Quill Lake, August 11; Manitoba, Westbourne Marsh, October 8 (Nash); South Dakota, Rapid City, August 3, and Hermosa, August 15; Nebraska, Whitman, August 25, Valentine, September 1, and Long Pine, September 6; Michigan, Washtenaw County, September 12, and Ann Arbor, September 15; Ohio, Cleveland, September 15; Missouri, Jasper County, October 15; Quebec, Montreal, September 21; Massachusetts, Plum Island, September 2; Rhode Island, Jamestown, September 9; New York, Fishers Island, September 10, and Montauk Point, September 12; New Jersey, Cape May, September 14; and Virginia, Wallops Island, September 6, and Cobb Island, September 25.

Casual records.—As previously stated, the long-billed curlew is now of casual or accidental occurrence east of the Mississippi River, although it was formerly fairly plentiful on the Atlantic coast. Macoun reports it as a rare emigrant in Newfoundland without particulars, and in the lack of subsequent confirmation it seems probable that he was misinformed. Preble (1908) records a specimen that was taken several years previous in the vicinity of Fort Simpson, Mackenzie. Several occurrences have been recorded for Alaska, among which are: Bethel, five seen May 9, 1917, by J. J. Brown (authority of A. H. Twitchell); a specimen, without date or exact locality, recorded by Macoun; St. Michael, June 19, 1874 (Turner); and upper Kuskokwim, July 23, 1898 (Hinckley). A specimen also is reported as having been taken near Spanishtown, Jamaica, in July, 1863.

Other West Indian records for this species are considered indefinite and probably refer to N. hudsonicus.

Egg dates.—Utah: 41 records, April 1 to May 22; 21 records, April 26 to May 9. Montana and Idaho: 24 records, April 20 to July 4; 12 records, May 16 to 29. Saskatchewan: 11 records, May 3 to July 4; 6 records, May 23 to June 10. Washington and Oregon: 7 records, May 4 to 20.

NUMENIUS ARQUATA ARQUATA (Linnaeus)

EUROPEAN CURLEW

Contributed by Francis Charles Robert Jourdain

HABITS

The European curlew is said to have occurred once on Long Island, N. Y., in 1853, and the specimen is still extant in the New York State Museum. It was originally recorded as a long-billed curlew, Numenius longirostris, but was identified by William Dutcher, who recorded it in the Auk (1892). Its claim to a place in the American list does not however rest on this ancient record, as E. Lehn Schiöler says that it has also occurred both on the west and east coasts of Greenland. The first record was that of Johan Petersen, who obtained a young male on August 23, 1913, at Angmagsalik on the east coast. Another was shot at Nanortalik in Julianehaab district in 1915 on the west side.

Spring.—Although great numbers of curlew are present throughout the winter on the mud flats and low lying coasts and estuaries of the British Isles, there is little doubt that the majority of our homebred birds migrate southward, and this is confirmed by the fact that when the breeding birds appear on the moors, the shore haunting birds are still present in their haunts and remain for several weeks longer. The average date of the arrival of the breeding stock in the north of England is about mid February; Chapman has recorded their arrival from February 5 to March 11, and in years of heavy snowfall, such as 1886, they were unable to reach their nesting ground till March 19. In mid Derbyshire they generally arrive early in March.

Courtship.—As William Farren (1910) remarks the watchfulness of the curlew and the open nature of the country it frequents, make observation of the courtship on the ground extremely difficult. False nests or “scrapes” are almost invariably to be found in the neighborhood of the nest, and O. R. Owen writes that in some parts of Radnorshire, where the curlew breeds commonly, it is not unusual to find two or three dozen “scrapes” in an afternoon. The curlews arrive on the moors in flocks, which keep together for a week or so, but soon resolve themselves into pairs. At this times, the moors reecho with their songs. Mr. Farren describes it as follows:

The performance, with its accompanying trilling song, resembles somewhat that of the redshank. It rises from the ground and with rapid wing beats ascends to a good height. Often when near the summit of its flight it checks suddenly, almost throwing itself over backwards. Recovering, it hangs poised kestrel-like in the air, and while so hovering, and also during a short temporary drop on motionless wings, it pours forth the trilling or jodelling song. It rises again on quivering wings and again sinks as before. This may continue for some time or it may be varied by the bird circling round on extended wings, when one is again reminded of the flight of a hawk. More often than not the bird will stop before a circle is completed and hover again over a fresh spot. So it continues, circling, rising, and falling, and pouring forth a joyful ripple of song. The song consists of two—or three—rising notes, rapidly repeated, high pitched, but liquid and flutelike. I would express the curlew’s song as gur-lech, gur-lech, gur-lech, gur-lech, pronounced rather distinctly at first and not too quickly, but quickening after the first two or three repetitions. Toward the end the syllables must be almost run together, losing all of the first except the “g” and at no time sounding the “ch” too hard but rather as in the Scottish “loch.”

Seton Gordon (1915) writes as follows:

The singer, flying along the moor a few yards above the surface of the ground, checks his flight and rises almost perpendicularly with wings rapidly beating the air. On reaching a certain elevation he soars—glides rather—earthward in a slanting direction, and it is now that his song is uttered. Commencing usually in a couple of long-drawn whistles, uttered in a very low key, the song quickens, the notes are sharper and clearer, and have at the middle of the performance a curious, distinctive “break,” difficult to put into words. It is at this point that the song is carried far across the moorland country, but almost at once the key is lowered, the calls become more subdued, more drawn out, until they end, as they commenced, in low, melancholy tones. Sometimes one sees a curlew making his way across a moor and constantly fluttering up into the air. But one imagines that there is something at fault, for time after time he utters only the first note of his song and then almost at once mounts again into the heavens. Can it be that he does not succeed in reaching the correct altitude from which all self-respecting curlew commence their appeals to their adored ones? But perhaps the songster is not producing that bottom note satisfactorily and thus is doing his best to perfect it. It is, I believe, only the male birds that practice these distinctive risings and dips in the air, but I can assert from personal experience the hen also makes use of the trilling, tuneful notes which most ornithologists associate only with the cock bird during the season of nesting.

Nesting.—The nesting sites are somewhat varied. Often the eggs are laid in a slight hollow, lined with grass or sometimes sprigs of heather on moorlands among short or long heather; others will breed among the long, wiry grass of high levels or on short-cropped pasture lands. A tussock in the middle of a wet bog may be used, or, exceptionally, the nest may be in a plowed field. There is not much effort at concealment, but the sentry is generally on watch to warn the sitting bird. Occasionally I have known a bird allow approach within a few yards, and Mr. Fenwick records a case in which the sitting bird allowed itself to be stroked and even lifted from the eggs. As a rule, the bird leaves the nest long before the intruder comes anywhere near. The nest is about 5 to 5½ inches across.

Eggs.—The eggs, which are normally four, are occasionally only three or sometimes five. Of this latter number I have about a dozen records. The only recorded case of six was probably due to two hens laying together. The eggs are very large for the size of the bird, pyriform in shape and very thin shelled, and are not laid on consecutive days. In color they range from light green to olive green or olive brown, spotted or sometimes blotched with light or dark umber brown and ashy shellmarks. Exceptional varieties are pale greenish blue or whitish grey, almost unmarked. The measurements of 100 British eggs, made by the writer, average 67.6 by 47.9 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 78.6 by 55.1, 56.2 by 44, and 61 by 43 millimeters.

Young.—Incubation is carried on by both sexes, and the period is 29½ to 30 days. In spite of their long legs the young can run soon after they are hatched, but remain in the nest longer than the young of most waders, running out and concealing themselves on the approach of danger. Both parents assist in looking after the young, and only a single brood is raised in the season.

Plumages.—The plumages and molts are fully described in A Practical Handbook of British Birds, edited by H. F. Witherby (1920).

Food.—During the winter months the main food consists of marine mollusca, such as cockles (Cardium edule), mussels (Mytilus edulis), Mya tellina, Bythenia, etc.; also Crustacea, especially small crabs; occasionally fishes from rock pools, such as blennies and Annelida (lugworms). In the breeding season land Mollusca, such as snails (Helix aspersa, H. nemoralis, etc.) and slugs; Amphitra (small frogs), Annelida (earthworms). Insects, including Diptera and their larvae (chiefly Tipulidae), Lepidoptera and their larvae, Orthoptera (Acheta, Forficula), Rhyncota (Notonecta, etc.), and Coleoptera (Rhizotragus, Anisoplia, Dytiscus, Scarabicus, Aphodius, Harpalus, Zabras, Pterostichus, etc.). Also vegetable matter, seeds of Polygonum and grasses, berries of crowberry (Empetrum nigrum) and Vaccinium myrtillus; occasionally also blackberries. Fragments of seaweed have also been found in the stomach.

Behavior.—The curlew is not popular with the shore shooter, as he is not only exceptionally wary himself but seems to take a delight in warning other and less suspicious species. Howard Saunders says that he has seen a curlew, after shrieking wildly over the head of a sleeping seal, swoop down and apparently flick with its wing the unsuspecting animal upon which the stalker was just raising his rifle.

Although a bird of the coast and bare moorlands, it can and does perch not infrequently on trees. In North Brabant, where it breeds on the vast expanses of moorland with scattered belts of small pine trees, I have seen an excited pair perched insecurely on the tips of small trees and keeping up an unceasing succession of anxious yelping notes while their young crouched in the heather below. Although it usually wades, the curlew can on occasion take voluntarily to the water and swims well.

Enemies.—Naumann mentions the peregrine and gyrfalcon, as well as the goshawk among the enemies of this species. Saxby, J. F. Peters, and others have found remains of curlew at the feeding places of the peregrine; and Ussher also states that it is also the case in Ireland.

Fall.—Early in July the young birds are on the wing on the English moors and are already beginning to collect into packs, which leave the breeding grounds about the middle of the month and resort to the shore.

Winter.—Probably most of the birds which winter on the English coasts are migrants from northern Europe. They chiefly haunt the larger estuaries and the wide mud flats of the east coast, assembling in flocks of fifty to a hundred. When their feeding grounds are covered by the tide they will sometimes work inland, or may be seen waiting for the water to recede on some isolated clump of rock which commands a view in all directions, all facing the same way.

DISTRIBUTION

Breeding range.—The British Isles, but only locally in England in the midlands and southeast; also in the Orkneys and Shetlands; but not in the Faroes. On the Continent, France (only in Bretagne), Belgium, Holland, Germany, Denmark (Jutland), Switzerland, Austria, Carinthia, Galicia, Rumania (Dobrogea), Poland, the Baltic Republics, Sweden and Norway, Russia, and Finland south to the Perm Government. In Asia it is replaced by an eastern race (N. arquata lineatus), which ranges east to Japan.

Winter range.—Many winter in the British Isles, southern Europe (the Mediterranean region), and a great part of Africa. Also in small numbers to the Persian Gulf, but here it meets the eastern form.

Spring migration.—At the Straits of Gibraltar the passage takes place in March, but Irby saw a few late in April, while along the Portuguese coast they pass from March to May. In the eastern Mediterranean some leave Cyprus by the end of February, but stragglers have been seen on March 30 and April 5 and others have been seen on Crete at the end of April. In Iraq large flocks passed Feluja between mid April and May 25, flying north in the evening.

Fall migration.—Although long after the normal southward migration the advent of hard weather will bring big flocks past Heligoland flying west as late as November 19 to 20. The young birds begin to arrive there as early as mid July from Scandinavia, and on the Portuguese coast the passage lasts from late July to November and at Tangier from September through October. At the Ionian Isles and on Cyprus they arrive at the beginning of September, and the passage through Greece lasts throughout September.

Casual records.—The records for Greenland and eastern America have been mentioned. In Iceland Faber recorded the first on September 6, 1819, and since then other occurrences have taken place without exact date. To the Faroes it is only a straggler in the winter months. In the Canaries it is an occasional visitor, chiefly to the eastern isles, and has been seen there as late as June 14. It has also been recorded from the Azores, Madeira (December 7, 1893, October 25, 1896, October 28, 1896, January 30, 1897, and great numbers on April 28, 1898) and the Cape Verde Islands.

Egg dates.—British Isles, April 17 to May 31 (42 dates), April 20 to May 10 (26 dates). Holland and Germany, earliest date April 6. Scandinavia from about mid May onward, May 13 to 26 (6 dates).

NUMENIUS HUDSONICUS Latham

HUDSONIAN CURLEW

HABITS

A striking case of the survival of the fittest is seen when we compare the relative abundance of the three common species of North American curlews to-day with their status 50 years ago. Whereas, at that time the Hudsonian curlew was the rarest of the three, it is now by far the commonest. The vast flocks of Eskimo curlew, that formerly frequented the Labrador coast every summer and visited the New England coast at frequent intervals, have all disappeared. They were tame and unsuspicious, were easily decoyed, and were therefore slaughtered in enormous numbers on their feeding grounds; they made a long migratory flight over the ocean from Nova Scotia to South America, where many undoubtedly perished in stormy weather. The long-billed curlew, once so common all over the interior prairie regions, and even on the Atlantic coast, has gradually been driven westward and northward, until it is now occupying a comparatively restricted range. The long-billed will probably be the next of the curlews to disappear, perhaps within the near future. But the Hudsonian curlew, on the other hand, has held its own, and in some sections it has apparently increased. This increase, however, is probably more apparent than real, due to comparison with other species which are decreasing rapidly. The reasons for its success in the struggle for existence are not hard to find. Its breeding grounds are in the far north, where it is never disturbed; it has no dangerous migration route; it does not ordinarily migrate in large flocks, which are susceptible to vicissitudes of weather and great slaughter at the hands of gunners; but, above all, it is a shy, wary, wily bird, quite capable of taking care of itself and well fitted to survive. Like the crow, it is more than a match for its enemies.

The Hudsonian curlew was evidently comparatively rare in Audubon’s time, for he apparently knew very little about it. Wilson seems to have overlooked it entirely or to have confused it with the Eskimo curlew, and Nuttall’s remarks are not altogether clear on the subject. George H. Mackay (1892b) says:

Speaking for Nantucket and Tuckernuck Islands, as far as I am aware, not over 15 or 20 of these birds a year on an average have been shot there during the past 17 years, and the local saying, that “it does not pay to go after them,” is true, they being too shy and too limited in number to make it any object, either for gain or for pleasure. During these 17 years there have never been more than 100 birds on an average living on the above islands each year, and for the past few years I have noticed a falling off from this number.

I am quite sure that I have seen more Hudsonian curlews on Cape Cod during the past 10 years that I saw during the previous 20. The species certainly has not decreased, and I am inclined to think that it has increased. The 1927 fall flight was unusually heavy.

Spring.—From its winter range on the Pacific coast of South America this curlew migrates through Central America to Florida and up the Atlantic coast. It reaches Florida during the latter half of March, the Carolinas about the middle of April, and Massachusetts about the middle of May. During a week spent with Arthur T. Wayne on the South Carolina coast May 18 to 25, 1915, I saw the last part of a heavy flight of Hudsonian curlews. Mr. Wayne told me that the first birds come early in April, but the height of the migration is between the third week in April and the second week in May, when enormous numbers (he says hundreds of thousands) may be seen every day. We saw no such numbers, but numerous flocks were seen every morning flying in to feed on fiddler crabs on the extensive marshes and flying out again at night to roost on the sand bars and islands. They flew high in the air in V-shaped flocks or in long irregular lines and their loud notes could be heard almost constantly.

Herbert K. Job (1905) saw them here in “scores of thousands”; he spent a night at each of several little low islands—mere sand bars—lying off the coast, and says:

About half past 5 or 6 o’clock, when the sun was low in the horizon or had set behind a cloud bank, the first advancing line is seen, and a string of from a dozen to 50 Hudsonian curlews come scaling over the beach, to alight on the bar, down at the other end. After a few minutes another flock is seen approaching. By half past 6 they are arriving fast, and by 7 there are two or three flocks in sight all the time, some of them containing as many as 75 birds. Meantime I am shooting at them as they pass, with my reflex camera, despite the dull light. As may be imagined, the company on the sand has become immense, covering many acres. They keep up a sort of murmuring noise, and now and then all fly up, with a perfect storm and tumult of wings and voices, soon to alight again. Even after dark they are yet arriving, as one may hear. I hazard the guess that there are often 10,000 curlews at such a roost each night. At the first glimmer of day they are off again for the marshes.

Mr. Wayne (1910) makes the following interesting suggestion:

This species supplanted the long-billed curlew between the years 1883 and 1885, for previous to these dates the former species was rare, but it gradually became more abundant each year until it established itself firmly in great numbers. The result was that the long-billed curlew was driven from its accustomed range by a smaller species in the struggle for existence. The long-billed curlews fed almost entirely upon fiddlers, and the Hudsonian curlew also subsisted upon them, and as the food supply was inadequate, one species was forced to seek other paths of migration.

The Hudsonian curlew seems to be a rare migrant everywhere in the interior; some of my correspondents do not mention it at all and others give only scattering records. But William I. Lyon writes to me that he saw a flock of about 100 on May 22, 1926, in Illinois; they were flying in V formation, uttering their characteristic four short whistles, and breaking sometimes from a V into a line. Edwin Beaupre tells me that “the foot of Amherst Island, in Lake Ontario, is a favorite crossing place for these curlews in their northward flight. May 24 is the date on which they may be looked for, passing through this locality in one large flock.”

J. A. Munro (1911) records a heavy flight which occurred at Fisherman’s Island, Toronto, during three days, May 24 to 26, 1910; a careful count was made of passing flocks in which over 1,000 birds were recorded. Probably the main flight from the Atlantic coast turns inland before it reaches New England and flies by way of the Great Lakes to the west side of Hudson Bay. The species is rare in New England in the spring.

Along the Pacific coast there is a heavy migration; the main flight appears in southern California about the middle of March, progresses slowly northward, reaches Alaska about the middle of May, and arrives on the breeding grounds in northern Mackenzie by the end of May. In California the main migration route is coastwise, the bulk of the flight coming in April; but John G. Tyler (1913) records them as “regular spring migrants” in the interior valleys. “Their favorite resorts are large, open fields where shallow ponds occur, and in such places they often gather in large numbers.” D. E. Brown’s notes record them as common, or very abundant at times, in Washington, flocks of 40 or 50 birds being not at all uncommon; his dates run from April 7 to May 14.

Nesting.—The best account of the nesting habits of this species and its behavior on its breeding grounds is given us by Dr. Joseph Grinnell (1900), who found eight nests in the Kotzebue Sound region of northern Alaska; he writes:

I found the Hudsonian curlew to be a common breeding bird over the tundras from Cape Blossom eastward into the Kowak Valley. In the vicinity of our winter camp on the Kowak, the arrival of the curlews was on May 17. From the middle to the last of June, in the Kowak delta, I became well acquainted with the Hudsonian curlew. At this season they were of course mated and most of them had eggs. They were ordinarily met with on the open stretches of tundra, often where these alternate with strips of timber and lakes. Where such perches are afforded, solitary birds on watch would be seen sitting on the tips of isolated dwarfed spruces or even willow bushes. As soon as an intruder entered the domains of a pair of curlew, the bird on watch would give the alarm by a loud, ringing call note, and soon both birds would fly to meet him. As long as the intruder remains in the vicinity, the pair of birds keep flying restlessly to and fro, now and then alighting on the ground and walking about, but most of the time keeping up their monotonous rolling whistle. This was the only note I heard, except earlier in the season a long, faint whistle like that of a distant locomotive, uttered by the male bird while sailing slowly, on set motionless wings over the nesting grounds. This is probably their song flight, though it is certainly very simple. The far-off whistle, however, puzzled me for some time as to its origin. I at first thought it was a steam launch on the river somewhere, until I finally connected the sound with the slow soaring of the curlew overhead.

The eggs so closely resemble the monotonous lights and shadows of the surrounding moss and grass that I have stepped directly over the nest, all the while scrutinizing every foot of the ground about me, without detecting the eggs. Sometimes from the nature of the surroundings the eggs are more conspicuous and can be seen 10 yards or more, but this is the exception. While one is at the nest, the parents fly close about one, almost deafening one with their loud penetrating cries. If anything the male bird is the most demonstrative of the two. The nest is simply a saucer-shaped depression in the top of a low hummock of moss or grass. The locality was always a wet swale or low place in the tundra, in which the clumps of grass or moss were often surrounded at their bases with water. The nests were in no way protected, the eggs always being in plain view, but the remarkable mimicry in their coloration is generally of sufficient protection.

MacFarlane collected some 13 sets of eggs on the barren grounds west of the lower Anderson River, but I find only one nest described in his notes; this he said was “a depression in the ground, lined with a few decayed leaves.” Stanton Warburton, Jr. took a set of three eggs near Teller, Alaska, on July 4, 1924; he writes to me that “the nest was situated on hard, dry tundra, the eggs occupying a slight depression in light grasses; distinctive nesting material of grey lichen-light material covered the cavity. Both birds were present.” A nest found by Bishop J. O. Stringer on an island in the lower Mackenzie River is described as a pile of grass, moss, and weeds.

Eggs.—The Hudsonian curlew lays almost invariably four eggs, though the set of three referred to above was heavily incubated. The eggs are hardly, if at all, distinguishable from those of the European whimbrel. They are ovate pyriform, rather pointed, in shape and show little or no gloss. Doctor Grinnell (1900) describes them as follows:

Their ground color is very variable, from a bluish pea green through olive buff to light olive green. The markings are numerous and somewhat amassed at the larger ends of the eggs. They consist of dots, spots, and blotches of pale lavender, drab, Prout’s brown, and bistre. The latter seems in every case the real pigment, and the varying depth to which it is covered with subsequent layers of shell material, seems to account for the different tints, even to the palest lavender.

In the few sets that I have seen the prevailing ground colors are dark and light shades of “olive buff,” with occasionally “Isabella color” or “ecru olive.” In the markings I recognized various browns, such as “bone brown,” “warm sepia,” “Saccardo’s umber,” “olive brown,” and “buffy brown.” The measurements of 37 eggs average 57.5 by 40.7 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 61.9 by 41.7, 59.2 by 43.2, 52 by 38.5, and 55 by 37.2 millimeters.

Plumages.—I have never seen a downy young Hudsonian curlew, and, so far as I know, it has never been described. Young birds are in juvenal plumage when they reach us on migration. They are more easily recognized by their much shorter bills than by any plumage differences, as they look much like adults. The markings on the neck and breast are finer and closer; the feathers of the back, scapulars, tertials, and wing coverts are “warm sepia,” notched with cream-white or pale buff, producing a spotted effect, most pronounced on the wing coverts and tertials (in adults these parts are more narrowly edged with buff); the rump is “sepia,” with large spots of “pinkish buff,” and the upper tail coverts are barred with the same colors; the under parts are more buffy than in adults and the whole effect is brighter and more variegated.

A postjuvenal body molt in late fall or early winter, which almost runs into a first prenuptial molt, produces a plumage, which can be distinguished from the adult only by the faded juvenal wing coverts and the bird becomes fully adult at the next postnuptial molt.

Adults have a complete postnuptial molt, beginning with the body molt in August and ending with the molt of the primaries in the winter; soon after the wings are molted, or from February to May they have a partial prenuptial molt, including the body plumage, the tail, and some of the scapulars and wing coverts.

Food.—Hudsonian curlews are mainly shore feeders; on the beaches and sand flats they pick up various insects, worms, small mollusks, and crustaceans, often probing for the sand fleas in the wet sand; on the mud flats they find similar animal food. I have also often seen them on the marshes, or even on high, dry pasture lands, such as are frequented by golden plover and Eskimo curlews, where they find grasshoppers, spiders, beetles, and other insects. In South Carolina we saw them at low tide on the oyster banks and on the mud banks riddled with holes of fiddler crabs, on which they were doubtless feeding. In the Magdalen Islands I have seen them on the uplands and among the sand dunes, where they were evidently eating crow berries (Empetrum nigrum). They are also said to eat blueberries, dewberries, and various seeds. E. W. Hadeler tells me that he once saw them feeding on the bodies of light-colored millers; the beach was lined with these moths, some dead and others alive, and the curlews did not like to leave this abundant supply of food.

Mr. Mackay (1892b) says:

They feed on fiddler crabs, grasshoppers, and the large gray sand spiders (Lycosa) which live in holes in the sand among the beach grass adjacent to headlands, huckleberries, which they pick from the bushes, and beetles (Lachnosterna, Scarabaeidae), all of which are usually mixed with coarse gravel. When a flock of these birds is on the ground where they have been feeding they become scattered, 25 or 30 birds covering 15 or 20 yards’ space. At such times they do not appear to be particularly active, moving about in a rather slow, stately manner, although I have once in a while seen them run.

L. L. Jewel (1913) writes:

One of the bird surprises of my life was to see a Hudsonian curlew tiptoe and catch butterflies within 20 feet of my front door at Gatun. The clearings in and around the town seemed very attractive to these birds and they were fairly tame. Marching or advancing by rushes, always with graceful dignity, sometimes singly but more often in groups of four or five, they foraged through the shorter grass, picking up or catching on the wing their insect food. They usually kept near the water’s edge or well down in dry gullies, but also fed on higher ground at times.

Behavior.—Although Hudsonian curlews may fly swiftly at times and probably make good speed when traveling they appear to me to fly rather slowly and heavily, with steady and rather moderate wing beats; they often set their wings and scale for a long distance. When migrating over land they usually fly high, in flocks, much after the manner of ducks and geese; but when migrating over water or flying to and from their roosting grounds they often fly in long lines close to the water. Their flight has been said to resemble the flight of gulls when moving in flocks, or to suggest that of herons when flying close to the water, but I could never see any such resemblance.

Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1905) says:

They walk and run rapidly, stand still, often with one foot several inches in front of the other, rest occasionally by squatting down, with tarsi flat on the ground, or standing upon one leg, with the other out behind.

William L. Dawson (1923) writes:

The curlews deploy, then, upon the dry sands of the upper beach and either potter about on listless lookout for passing insects or else squat upon the sand, tuck bill under wing, and lose themselves in dreams. There is always at least one wary fellow on guard, however, and let but the smallest appearance of motion, be it only a khaki hat, break the purity of the sky line among the attendant sand dunes, and a quaver of warning puts the scattered flock on guard. Sleepy heads are stealthily withdrawn; the birds rise slowly and begin to creep toward their leader, their neutral-colored bodies scarcely distinguishable against the background of sand; and all meanwhile scanning the horizon for the danger sign. If the alarm spreads, all run down the beach slope for a quick take-off, pass over the surf line, and then parallel the shore with moderate, firm wing strokes until a safe distance has been reached.

Voice.—John T. Nichols says in his notes:

The flight note of the Hudsonian curlew in migration resembles somewhat that of the greater yellowlegs, but is easily distinguished therefrom, being less modulated and usually lower pitched. It commonly consists of four short whistles, but is frequently prolonged, sometimes accelerated into a trill. The more prolonged calls are usually the dryer and seem characteristic of the noisiest birds, flying highest or with most uncertainty. On its northern breeding grounds (Nome, July, 1926) this species keeps up a continual vocal protest while an intruder is present. Its note then matches in form the trills which may be heard in migration but is much more musical and varied in quality. It may be described as polysyllabic, rolling, usually 10 syllabled or less; modulated and varied in tone—loud, reedy, sweet, mellow, or liquid. It is the same when the bird is in the air as when it is on the ground.

Mr. Mackay (1892b) says that the rolling note sounds like “that produced by a boy’s lead bird whistle filled with water.” They also have a soft, musical cur-lew note, more often heard in the spring. Dr. E. R. P. Janvrin says in his notes: “The note uttered during flight, usually just after the birds are put up and apparently an alarm note, sounds like krek, krek, krek, quite loud and rather metallic.” E. W. Hadeler refers to this note as pip, pip, uttered five or six times in rapid succession.

John G. Tyler (1913) writes:

There are no birds with which I am acquainted that can compare with these splendid waders in the rich, musical quality of their voices. On the last day of one April I encountered a large flock of curlews in a grain field, part of which was being flooded at the time with irrigation water. The nervous lispings that at my approach threatened to break into the clamorous, screaming flight calls finally subsided, and the birds fed and waded about in the water or preened their feathers while standing storklike on one leg. Suddenly I was thrilled with a medley of subdued pipings so marvelously sweet and musical that I could hardly believe the sound came from my flock of curlews. The faintest whispering it seemed, yet the liquid melody was really far-reaching and was, as I afterwards learned, distinctly audible from a distance of a quarter of a mile when atmospheric conditions were favorable. A strange nervous unrest seemed to affect the entire group on the ground. The whistlings became louder, and the cause was suddenly revealed to me when a curlew call from overhead drew my attention to a flock of new arrivals, nine in number, that were circling preparatory to joining the company at the pond. My surprise and admiration knew no bounds when I realized the sublime heights at which these travelers through the sky had been flying. Mere specks they appeared, and yet their melodious call rang clear and distinct.

Field marks.—A large, rather pale brown bird with a long, decurved bill can easily be recognized as a curlew; the long-billed curlew is larger, has a longer bill, and is much more rufous or cinnamon colored, especially in the wings; the Eskimo curlew is, or was, smaller, with a shorter bill, though young Hudsonians have rather short bills. Mr. Nichols suggests that at close range the much barred under wing can frequently be noticed; the outer primaries look blacker and plainer than in long-billed, and a white streak near the edge of the wing, made by the primary quills, is cut off abruptly at the base by a blackish blotch.

Fall.—Like most of the northern breeding shore birds, the Hudsonian curlew moves off its breeding grounds as soon as the young are able to shift for themselves, and begins its summer wanderings, or starts on its southward migration early in July. There are two main lines of flight, down the east and west coasts of the continent, as well as a more scattering flight through the central valleys and plains. The eastward flight is from the west coast of Hudson Bay, where many birds linger through August, to the coasts of New England and southward. A few Hudsonian curlews migrate as far east as Labrador; the species has never been common there, but since the disappearance of the Eskimo curlew it has been more in evidence; Lucien M. Turner recorded it only twice in northern Ungava; a few specimens have been taken on the east coast of Labrador.

Adults appear on the coast of Massachusetts about the middle of July and the young birds about a month later; the heaviest flights come in August and September, but young birds often linger well into October; my latest date is October 20. They reach the Carolinas in July; Mr. Wayne (1910) says that he has seen them as early as July 5 and not later than October 2. They are reported as migrating over the Bermudas in August and September, but the last of the birds do not leave the West Indies until November.

Pacific coast flights occur on corresponding dates. Early in August, when the blueberries and crowberries are ripening, large flocks of this and bristle-thighed curlews come down to the Bering Sea coast of Alaska, where large numbers are brought into the markets at Nome all through August and early September. From there the migration is southward along the Pacific coast. D. E. Brown’s dates for Pierce County, Wash., run from August 6 to October 2, but probably there are earlier dates. The earliest birds reach southern California about the first week in July and the latest birds linger through October. Meantime some of the birds have appeared in Peru early in August and in Chile by the middle of that month.

Game.—The Hudsonian, or “jack,” curlew is a gamey bird, which will test the skill and try the patience of the most experienced sportsman. It is so shy and vigilant that it is difficult to outwit. It is almost impossible to stalk an old bird, but I have, on rare occasions, been able to creep up on a young bird. Most of my chances have been at single birds flying over, when several gunners have been spread over ground where scattered birds were feeding. Once a flock of 15 birds swung by my blind within range, but they did not alight to my decoys. Referring to the “good old days,” Mr. Mackay (1892b) writes:

They were apparently as shy then as now, for even then it was considered essential in order to take them to mortise a hole in the ground for concealment in the locality which they frequented or passed over, care being taken to remove the soil taken out to some distance in a wagon in order that the place might appear perfectly natural. Stands were dug in the center of a clump of bushes, as being less noticeable. In times past, on Cape Cod, I have used a hogshead, sunken level with the marsh, from which to shoot them, but even under such conditions I never secured more than nine in one day, and that only once. The Hudsonian curlew is a very observing bird and perceives at once anything strange and out of harmony with the natural surroundings of any locality which it has been in the habit of frequenting, and in order to get a flock up to the decoys considerable care must be exercised. Single birds or pairs will, however, decoy fairly well if they have not been harassed. These birds have a way of setting their wings stationary and sailing, when headed for the decoys, at a distance of 100 yards or more, the flock separating out so that there are scarcely any two birds together, and then hanging, as it were, in the air. During this time they are most carefully listening and scanning the decoys and surroundings. A movement causes them to spring up in the air several feet, and as this is generally when aim is being taken they are apt to be missed by being undershot. In order to get them as near as possible I have frequently set my decoys only a few feet to windward of my stand, as it is customary for them, when heading for the decoys, to keep falling off to leeward of them. They are not an easy bird to kill, being strong and powerful, and as the distance is usually great at which they are shot at, owing to their vigilance, many go off wounded and are not recovered. Should one or more be wing-broken they frequently commence falling, which causes the remainder of the flock to hover around for a short time, apparently to give encouragement to the wounded ones, and while their attention is thus absorbed they will often afford the sportsman a second shot, if he keeps concealed. Were it not for the satisfaction of getting so shy a bird, for, as a rule, they are but indifferent eating, there would be little inducement to waste the time necessary to obtain an occasional one. I take a few every year by getting out of my wagon into some place of concealment, when I observe a flock in the distance on the ground, and letting my companion drive around the other side and start them toward me. Long familiarity with the ground enables me to form some idea as to what course they are likely to pursue, and I have obtained more or less in this manner.

DISTRIBUTION

Range.—North and South America; accidental in Europe.

Breeding range.—The Hudsonian curlew is known to breed only on the Arctic coast of North America from Alaska (Norton Sound, Kobuk River, Cape Blossom, and probably Camden Bay) to Mackenzie (Anderson River region). It has, however, been noted in summer in Keewatin (Fort Churchill and near York Factory) and may possibly breed in that vicinity.

In common with several other shore birds, some individuals remain in summer far south of their breeding grounds. At this season they have been detected from New Jersey (Great Bay), south along the Atlantic coast—Virginia (Wreck Island, Bone Island, and Wallops Island); South Carolina (Mount Pleasant); to Costa Rica (Coronado de Terraba); and the West Indies (Barbuda).

Winter range.—The winter range extends north probably to southern California (Santa Cruz Island, Santa Barbara, and Ventura County); probably rarely Louisiana; and rarely (formerly more commonly) South Carolina (Bullyard Sound and probably Charleston). East to formerly South Carolina (probably Charleston, Sea Islands, and Frogmore); probably rarely Florida (Pine Island); probably Cuba; probably rarely Porto Rico (Gundlach); the Lesser Antilles (Barbuda); Guiana (Berbice River and Cayenne); Brazil (Praia de Cajetuba); and Chile (Island of Chiloe). South to Chile (Island of Chiloe). West to Chile (Island of Chiloe, Valdivia, Valparaiso, and Tarapaca); Peru (Lima, Trujillo, and Tumbez); Ecuador (Bay of Santa Elena); Galapagos Islands (Charles and Narborough Islands); Venezuela (Isla de Aves); Costa Rica; Honduras (Gulf of Fonseca); Guatemala (Chiapam); Clipperton Island; Chiapas (San Benito); Jalisco (La Barca); Sinaloa (Mazatlan); Lower California (La Paz, San Jose Island, San Francisco Island, and Colorado River Delta); and probably southern California (Santa Cruz Island). A specimen obtained at Rockaway Beach, New York, on December 24, 1912, probably was either a crippled bird or otherwise physically deficient.

Spring migration.—Early dates of spring arrival are: North Carolina, Corolla, April 15, and Churchs Island, April 19; Virginia, Hog Island, April 1, and Cape Charles, April 13; Pennsylvania, Renovo, May 7; New Jersey, Cape May, April 12; New York, Montauk, April 28, and Shelter Island, May 9; Connecticut, Fairfield, May 6; Rhode Island, Newport, April 27, and Block Island, May 3; Massachusetts, Nantucket, April 10, and Muskeget Island, April 20; Ontario, Brighton, May 7, and Toronto, May 17; Mackenzie, Fort Anderson, May 29; northern California, Alameda, March 27, and Palo Alto, March 28; Oregon, Newport, March 14; Washington, Hoquiam, April 19, and Everett, April 26; British Columbia, Comox, May 3, and Courtenay, May 11; and Alaska, Craig, May 12, Nulato River, May 12, Hooper Bay, May 17, Kobuk River, May 17, and Fort Kenai, May 18.

Late dates of spring departure are: Chile, Concon, April 25; Oaxaca, San Mateo, May 13; Florida, Palma Sola, May 11, and St. Marks, May 19; Georgia, Savannah, May 13; South Carolina, Port Royal, May 22, and Charleston, May 23; North Carolina, Pea and Bodie Islands, May 8; Virginia, Locustville, May 27, and Alexandria, May 30; Pennsylvania, Lancaster, May 27; New Jersey, Cape May, May 23; New York, Long Beach, May 31, Canandaigua, June 1, and Branchport, June 2; Connecticut, East Haven, June 4; Massachusetts, Cape Cod, June 23, and Nantucket, June 25; Ohio, Youngstown, May 24; Ontario, Point Pelee, May 30, Beaumaris, June 4, and Brighton, June 10; Tepic, Las Penas Island, May 5; Lower California, Colima Point, April 25, and San Jose del Cabo, May 1; California, Santa Barbara, June 2; Oregon, Mercer, May 14, and Yaquina Bay, May 18; Washington, Quillayute Needles, May 30, and Dungeness Spit, June 3; and British Columbia, Courtenay, May 23.

Fall migration.—Early dates of fall arrival are: British Columbia, Courtenay, June 27; Washington, Lake Ozette, July 12, and Destruction Island, July 15; Oregon, Newport, July 10; California, Alameda, July 7, Los Angeles, July 12, and Farallon Islands, July 16; Lower California, Los Coronados Islands, August 7, and Santa Rosalia, August 15; Peru, Chimbote, August 2; Ontario, Point Pelee, July 24; Ohio, Lake County, July 14; Massachusetts, Muskeget Island, July 12, Monomoy Island, July 14, Marthas Vineyard, July 16, and Boston, July 18; Rhode Island, Block Island, July 10, and South Auburn, July 23; Connecticut, Milford, July 20, and North Haven, July 26; New York, Rockaway, July 10, East Hampton, July 11, and Orient, July 11; New Jersey, Tuckerton Bay, July 2, Long Beach, July 9, and Cape May, July 15; Pennsylvania, Erie, August 1; Bermuda, August 14; Virginia, Chincoteague, August 1; North Carolina, Pea and Bodie Islands, July 22; South Carolina, Charleston, July 19; Georgia, Savannah, July 27; Alabama, Dauphin Island, July 27; Florida, Bradenton, July 31, and Tarpon Springs, August 3; and West Indies, Barbuda, August 12.

Late dates of fall departure are: Alaska, Craig, September 24, and St. Lazaria Island, September 30; Mackenzie, Great Bear Lake, September 30; British Columbia, Courtenay, October 5; Washington, Clallam Bay, October 9, and Point Chehalis, October 19; Ontario, Brighton, September 1; Quebec, Montreal, September 9; Nova Scotia, Wolfville, September 13; Maine, Northeast Harbor, September 5; Portland, September 9, and Dover, October 12; Massachusetts, Monomoy Island, September 28, Harvard, October 2, and Dennis, October 27; Rhode Island, Sakonnet Point, September 25, Rock Island, September 28, and Newport, October 2; Connecticut, New Haven, September 19, and North Haven, September 20; New York, Montauk Light Station, September 28, and Orient Point, September 30; New Jersey, Sandy Hook, September 13; and Virginia, Wallops Island, September 23, and Hog Island, November 10.

Casual records.—The Hudsonian curlew is of hardly more than accidental occurrence in the interior but has been noted on a few occasions. In addition to notes given under migration, mention may be made of the following records: Colorado, a specimen at Colorado Springs on September 23, 1900; New Mexico, a specimen at Fort Thorn in the spring of 1854; Texas, Brownsville, several records in spring between March 31 and May 24; Nebraska, Lincoln, October 8, 1898; Wisconsin, Milwaukee, September 9, 1903, and Cedar Grove, September 23, 1922; Iowa, Crystal Lake, Hancock County, May 25, 1895; Michigan, St. Clair Flats, May 25, 1902, Saginaw City, fall of 1896, and Forestville, April 23, 1906; and Indiana, Calumet Heights, August 3, 1902. Reports exist for other interior States but usually without satisfactory evidence.

Both Macoun and Hagerup list it as occurring in Newfoundland, but without any presentation of the evidence. In Porto Rico, Gundlach reported collecting it at Punta Arenas, and also refers to a specimen in a collection at San Juan, Stahl secured two others which were preserved in his collection, F. A. Potts obtained one May 21, 1921, near Las Mareas, and observed others from July 31 to September 24, 1921, near Central Aguirre. According to Reinhardt (1861), it has been taken on four occasions in Greenland (Godthaab, Julianehaab, Fiskenaesset, and Jacobshavn). A specimen was recorded in 1854 by Kjärbölling from Iceland and one was taken near Seville, Spain, May 3, 1872.

Egg dates.—Alaska and Mackenzie: 11 records, May 31 to July 10; 6 records, June 14 to July 1.

NUMENIUS BOREALIS (J. R. Forster)

ESKIMO CURLEW

HABITS

The story of the Eskimo curlew is just one more pitiful tale of the slaughter of the innocents. It is a sad fact that the countless swarms of this fine bird and the passenger pigeon, which once swept across our land on migrations, are gone forever, sacrificed to the insatiable greed of man. “The Eskimo Curlew and its Disappearance,” by Prof. Myron H. Swenk (1915), tells the story; it is well worth reading, but space will permit only a few quotations from it. Edward H. Forbush (1912 and 1925) also gives a very good account of the tragedy. In some of the following paragraphs the reader will find many references to its former abundance and the extent of the slaughter which exterminated it. So we shall consider here only the period of its rapid decline and some of the causes which produced it.

Professor Swenk (1915) says of its disappearance in the West:

In Texas the Eskimo curlew came in immense flocks on the prairies from 1856 to 1875, after which year the large flocks disappeared. Small flocks were seen in 1886 and 1890. The last records of the species for Texas were 1902 and 1905, one and three individuals, respectively. The species were first definitely recorded for Kansas from Russell County in 1874. In that State these curlews were abundant as late as 1878, but in 1879 their numbers were much reduced and the birds decreased rapidly. There were still a few in the Kansas markets in the early nineties. The last record is for 1902. Eastwardly in the interior the birds were always uncommon and disappeared early. The last Michigan record is in 1883. The last Ohio record is in 1878. The last Wisconsin records are April 27, 1899, and September 10, 1912, the latter specimen a male taken at Fox Lake, Dodge County, Wis. The last Indiana record is, with some doubt, April 19, 1890.

The last records of collected birds for Nebraska were made in the spring of 1911 and of 1915. On March 22, 1911, while Mr. Fred Geiger was shooting ducks near Waco, York County, two of these birds came flying by within gun range, and both were shot by him. The birds were identified by an old-time hunter, and were then brought to Lincoln, and mounted by Mr. August Eiche, in whose collection they are at present. Although no Eskimo curlews were noted in 1914, a single bird was killed about 10 miles due south of Norfolk, Nebr., on the morning of April 17, 1915. The bird was alone when taken. It came into the possession of Mr. Hoagland, who had it mounted by Allabaugh, a taxidermist of Omaha, in whose shop I saw it in May.

But this was not the last word from Nebraska, for 11 years later Professor Swenk (1926) published the following encouraging note of a sight record:

In further substantiation of the undoubtable fact that the Eskimo curlew is not yet extinct, I am now able to cite a positive instance of its occurrence in Nebraska during the present spring. On the morning of April 8, 1926, Mr. A. M. Brooking, of Hastings, an ornithologist and taxidermist who is very familiar with this species through having spent much effort in assembling several specimens of it for his extensive collection, while driving from the village of Inland to Hastings along what is known as the “north road,” saw a flock of eight birds alight in a newly plowed field about 4 miles east of Hastings. He drove his car up close to the birds, and when within 40 yards of them was able to his astonishment to positively identify them as unquestionably Eskimo curlews. Mr. Brooking knows the species so well, and saw the birds so clearly, that in my opinion this sight record can be accepted without hesitation.

On the Labrador coast Eskimo curlews diminished rapidly in numbers between 1870 and 1880. Hon. F. C. Berteau, a government official in Labrador, in some notes published by W. J. Carroll (1910) says:

Up to 1889 dough-birds or Eskimo curlew were very numerous in Labrador from late in August to the end of September. They frequented the southern part of the coast only, never appearing north of Indian Harbor at the northern entrance to Hamilton Inlet. During the first 4 or 5 of the 10 years during which I was collector of customs on Labrador, they were very numerous, indeed, flying from the hills to the shore and vice versa in flocks numbering from fifty to two or three hundred. During the last years of my collectorship they gradually diminished in numbers, until in 1890 or thereabouts they entirely disappeared, and save for a few seen on one or two occasions have never returned to the coast.

The Hudson’s Bay Co. people at Cartwright annually put up large numbers of hermetically sealed tins for the use of the company’s officials in London and Montreal. I have seen as many as 2,000 birds hung up in their store as the result of one day’s shooting by some 25 or 30 guns. A fairly accurate idea of the plentifulness of these birds will be obtained from an account of my own experience. During the season I used to leave the cruiser at 6 a. m. and return at 9 for breakfast. I do not remember ever getting less than 30 to 40 brace during the two hours or so that I was shooting.

Dr. Henry B. Bigelow (1902), who visited the northeast coast of Labrador in 1900, heard of only about a dozen which were seen on the coast that fall, of which he saw five. Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1913) reported that seven were “shot and one other seen on the beach at West Bay, north of Cartwright, in August and September, 1912. The skins of five were saved, and sent to Cambridge, where they were seen and identified by Mr. William Brewster.”

Excessive shooting of this curlew on its migrations and in its winter home in South America was doubtless one of the chief causes of its destruction. Ernest Gibson (1920) saw “some 20 or 30 * * * in the vicinity of Linconia,” near Buenos Aires, on February 13, 1899; and a small flock was reported in the same locality on April 8, 1901. He evidently has seen none since then. Mr. Forbush (1925) has recently given us the latest news from Argentina in a letter from Dr. Roberto Dabbene, in which he writes that five or six were seen in the Province of Buenos Aires on February 7, 1924; one of these was captured and another solitary individual was taken at the same place on January 11, 1925; both of these specimens are in the Museo National de Historia Natural, at Buenos Aires. These and the other recent records may indicate that there are a few Eskimo curlews still living; but the species is reduced to such a low ebb that it is doomed to speedy extinction, if not already gone.

One need not look far to find the cause which led to its destruction. On its breeding grounds in the far north it was undisturbed by man. And I can not believe that it was overtaken by any great catastrophe at sea which could annihilate it; it was strong of wing and could escape from or avoid severe storms; it could, like all shore birds, swim if necessary; and its migration period was so extended that no one storm could wipe it out. Several other species of shore birds make similar, long ocean flights without apparent disaster. There is no evidence of disease or failure of food supply. No, there was only one cause, slaughter by human beings, slaughter in Labrador and New England in summer and fall, slaughter in South America in winter and slaughter, worst of all, from Texas to Canada in the spring. The gentle birds ran the gauntlet all along the line and no one lifted a finger to protect them until it was too late. They were so gentle, so confiding, so full of sympathy for their fallen companions, that in closely packed ranks they fell, easy victims of the carnage.

Spring.—It was as a migrant only that we knew the Eskimo curlew. As to how it reached the United States from southern South America we know very little; but it probably followed the same route taken by its companion the golden plover. It arrived in Texas early in March and migrated northward through the prairie regions, mainly west of the Mississippi River, through central Canada and the Mackenzie region to the barren grounds on the Arctic coast. It was rare in spring east of this narrow belt, and practically unknown west of it. The flight through the United States was mainly accomplished during April and through Canada in May, arriving on its breeding grounds before the end of May.

Professor Swenk (1915) writes:

As to the abundance of these birds in Nebraska during the early years of its statehood the observations of Prof. Lawrence Bruner, who distinctly remembers the flights which occurred in the vicinity of Omaha during the years 1866–1868, when he was a boy 10 or 12 years old, are indicative. The birds would arrive about the time the later willows began to bloom (latter April), being present in force for a week or 10 days only, for by the time all of the wild plum blossoms had fallen (middle May) the birds were gone. Usually the heaviest flights occurred coincident with the beginning of corn-planting time, and enormous flocks of these birds would settle on the newly plowed fields and on the dry burnt-off prairies, where they searched industriously for insects. These flocks reminded the settlers of the flights of passenger pigeons and the curlews were given the name of “prairie pigeons.” They contained thousands of individuals and would often form dense masses of birds extending for a quarter to a half mile in length and a hundred yards or more in width. When the flock would alight the birds would cover 40 or 50 acres of ground.

Dr. E. W. Nelson (1887) called this “the most abundant curlew in northern Alaska, especially along the coasts of Bering Sea and Kotzebue Sound.” At Saint Michael a number were seen passing north on May 12, 1878. He says that they were “always more numerous than hudsonicus, and sometimes flocks of 150 or more” were seen. But Dr. Joseph Grinnell (1900) looked for it in vain about Kotzebue Sound.

Nesting.—For all that we know about the nesting habits of the Eskimo curlew, we are indebted to Roderick MacFarlane, who found this species breeding abundantly on the barren grounds east of Fort Anderson and up to the Arctic coast. He collected some 30 sets of eggs there between 1862 and 1866. He says in his notes that “this curlew never, in this quarter at least, breeds in wooded tracts, the barren grounds proper being the real habitat of the species during the season of nidification.” It is “very difficult to find the nests” as the birds “get off long before our approach, while the eggs nearly resemble the grass in color.” Some birds were seen to leave the nests. The nests are described as mere hollows in the ground, “lined with a few decayed leaves” and sometimes having “a thin sprinkling of hay.” The birds “generally ascend in the air in a straight line after getting off the nest.”

Eggs.—The normal set was evidently four eggs, but MacFarlane sent home several sets of three. The eggs are rather pointed ovate in shape and have very little gloss. Many eggs closely resemble certain types of Franklin gull’s eggs. The ground colors vary from browns to olives, the latter predominating. The olive colors run from “buffy olive” or “citrine drab” to “olive buff,” and the brown colors from “light brownish olive” to “buckthorn brown.” Some eggs are boldly marked with heavy blotches, which are sometimes confluent about the larger end; more often they are irregularly spotted and blotched; and some eggs are sparingly marked. The markings are in dark browns, “bister,” “bone brown,” “buffy brown,” and blackish brown, with underlying spots and blotches of various shades of “brownish drab.” The measurements of 36 eggs average 51.3 by 35.5 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 54.5 by 36, 52 by 39.5, 47.5 by 36, and 51 by 33 millimeters.