ERRATA. (continued 5)

His food is not confined to boring larvæ; the large red ants, so common in the woods, I have found numerous in his stomach; and at other times, hard strong seeds enclosed in a scarlet pulpy skin. In March we sometimes find him filled with the white pulp and oval seeds of the sour-sop. He is said to feed on the beautiful cherries (Cordia collococca) which in brilliant bunches are ripe at the same season; and I have seen him engaged in picking off the pretty crimson berries, that hang like clusters of miniature grapes from the fiddlewood (Cytharaxylon). Sometimes he extracts the pulp of the orange, having cut a hole through the rind; and mangoes he eats in the autumn. He does damage to the sugar-cane, by chiselling away the woody exterior, and sucking out the juice, and gets shot for this feat, by the owners.

I have never seen the nest, but I have seen the bird go in and out of a round hole, far up the stipe of a dead cocoa-nut palm, where doubtless it was nesting.

Fam.—CUCULIDÆ.—(The Cuckoos.)

RAINBIRD.[80]

Saurothera vetula.

Cuculus vetula, Linn.—Pl. Enl. 772.

Saurothera vetula, Vieill.—Gal. Ois. 38.

Interesting to myself, as being the first bird that I obtained in Jamaica, I mention the fact, because the mode in which I procured it is illustrative of one of its most remarkable characteristics. A day or two after my arrival, I was taking a ramble with a little lad, who was delighted to be my pioneer and assistant; we had climbed a hill which was clothed with large timber, so densely matted with lianes and briers as to be almost impenetrable. We had, however, got into the thickest of it, when a large and handsome bird with a long tail, beautifully barred with black and white, appeared on a low shrub within a few feet of us, watching our motions with much apparent interest. My little friend informed me that it was a Rainbird, but that it had received also the title of Tom Fool, from its silly habit of gratifying its curiosity, instead of securing its safety. Without wasting many words, however, the youth picked up a “rock-stone,” as pebbles are called in Jamaica, and delivered the missile with so skilful an aim, that the bird dropped to the ground, and became the first-fruits of an ornithological collection.

I have often seen the bird since, and always with the same manners, jumping from twig to twig, or climbing with facility up the slender stems of the young trees, gazing at the intruder; and if driven away, flying only a few yards, and again peeping as before. It is little seen except where the woods are high, but is widely scattered on mountain as well as lowland.

The wings are remarkably short and hollow, like those of the Gallinaceæ, the bird displaying the unusual phenomenon of a length greater than the expanse. Conformably to this, the bird is seldom seen to fly except from tree to tree; more usually leaping in a hurried manner along the branches, or proceeding up the perpendicular bole by short jumps. When it does fly, it glides nearly in a straight line, without flapping the wings. It often sits on a branch in a remarkable posture, the head lower than the feet, and the long tail hanging nearly perpendicularly downward. When sitting it now and then utters a loud and harsh cackle, unvarying in note, but increasing in the rapidity of its emission; and sometimes this sound is produced during its short flights. All the time of this effusion, the beak is held widely opened. It may be imitated in some degree, by repeating the syllables, ticky ticky ticky, for about a minute, as rapidly as they can be uttered. It is frequently seen on the ground in morasses and woods, when it proceeds by a succession of bounds, the long tail held somewhat high, the head low: the tail is jerked forward by the impulse at each pause of motion; and the whole action is like that of the Crotophaga.

When held, it is fierce, trying with widely opened beak to bite, and uttering angry screams; the tail expanded. A male, which had been knocked down with a stone, but not much hurt, on being put into a cage, was outrageous when one’s hand was placed near the wires, dashing from side to side, now and then snapping at the hand, and snarling all the while, exactly in the tone of an angry puppy.

It is extremely retentive of life; sometimes when a wounded one has come into my possession, I have been distressed at the vain efforts that I have made to deprive it of life, without absolute destruction of the specimen. The craw is large and protuberant, below the sternum, and is usually much distended. I have found in various individuals large caterpillars, locusts, phasmata, spiders, phryni, a whole mouse, lizards, &c. Robinson found in one a large Green Anolis, eight inches long, coiled up in a spiral manner, the head being in the centre. He says it bruises the heads of lizards, and then swallows them head foremost, and the stomach being of a roundish form, he conjectures that the lizard must necessarily be coiled in this manner. Mr. Hill had one alive for several weeks; it seized cockroaches and other insects, when put into its box, and ate fresh meat, if chopped small.

I know nothing of the nest, except what the following note may afford. A young friend informs me that he once observed a Rainbird carrying “trash” into the hollow or fork of the divergent limbs of a logwood tree. Some little while after, passing that way, he observed a nest-like accumulation of similar substances, but as it was beyond reach, he took a long stick to poke it out. In doing so, he pushed out an egg, which was about as long as that of the Tinkling, but not so broad: its colour white with many spots, but he had no distinct recollection of what hue they were.

“When pairing,” observes Mr. Hill, “the male bird attracts the female by gracefully displaying his plumage. His long graduated tail, which insensibly blends tints of drab-grey with black, and terminates with a border of white, is then seen expanded. The short rufous wings are spread out, and the whole plumage, from the sage-grey, hair-like, downy web of the back, to the soft, dull yellow under feathers, are in motion, as the bird endeavours by playful dalliance to win his mate’s attention.”

HUNTER.[81] Old Man.—Rainbird.

Piaya pluvialis.

Cuculus pluvialis, Gm.—Sloane. pl. 258.

Piaya pluvialis, Lesson.

The appellation of Rainbird is indiscriminately applied to both this and the preceding, as is, in a less degree, that of Old Man. I use a term by which I have heard it distinguished, in St. Elizabeth’s, perhaps derived from the perseverance with which it “hunts” (i. e. searches) for its prey.

The manners of this fine bird greatly resemble those of its relative, and its prey is also similar. It is a bird of large size and imposing aspect, and its puffed plumage and long barred tail give it an appearance of even greater magnitude than it possesses. Its voice is sometimes a cackling repetition of one sound, increasing in rapidity until the separate notes are undistinguishable. At other times it is a hoarse croaking. The craw projects below the sternum, and the skin of that part of the abdomen is destitute of feathers and even of down.

The obesity of this bird is often extraordinary; I have seen the fat lying over the bowels, between the stomach and the vent, three-fourths of an inch thick. When alive, it has a strong musky odour, like that of the John-crow.

“In the changes of our mountain roads,” remarks Mr. Hill, “from deep masses of shadowy forest, with prodigious trees overgrown with moss, and climbing shrubs and lianes, to luxuriant and park-like pastures, flowery hedgerows and shrubby thickets,—two sounds, remarkable and different from each other, prevail. The one is the tapping of the Woodpecker, broken in its measured monotony by an occasional scream; and the other the rattle of the Rainbird, varied by a cry at intervals like the caw of the Crow tribe. The deep forest is the haunt of the Woodpecker,—the open thickets the resort of the Rainbird. The insects which form the food of the one, are those that subsist out of the sun-light, and perforate the alburnum of trees, or live beneath the bark; those that are the prey of the other, are the tribes that find their sustenance on the surface of vegetation, exist in the shade, and only resort to the open air to shift from place to place.”

YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO.[82] May-bird.

Coccyzus Americanus.

Cuculus Americanus, Linn.—Aud. pl. 2.

Cuculus Carolinensis, Wils.

Coccyzus Americanus, Vieill.

Erythrophrys Americanus, Sw.

All our Cuckoos but the present are permanent residents; this is but a summer visitor. Nor is it at any time very common, a few only taking up their abode with us, while their brethren continue their vernal migration from the southern to the northern continent. In the “Notes of a Year,” before quoted, Mr. Hill has the following observations on this species. “The visit of the May-bird is one of the precursors of the spring rains in this island. The hazy atmosphere which precedes the showers of the vernal season, has already dimmed the usual lustre of the sky; the winds have ceased; the heat has begun to be irritably oppressive; the air to assume a steamy denseness, hot and heavy; the butterflies have left the parched and blighted pastures to congregate wherever they can find any kind of moisture, and the insects to attract the Nightjars to the lowlands, when the stuttering voice of this Yellow-billed Cuckoo is heard among the prognostics of the coming rain.

“The May-bird, unlike the other Cuckoos with us, that never migrate, prefers straggling trees by the wayside to hedgerow thickets. With the first rain that falls, the hedge-trees, cleared of their dust, have begun to put forth fresh foliage, and to form those closer bowers favourable to the shy and solitary habits of this bird. It is [comparatively] long-winged, and its swift arrowy flight might be mistaken for that of some of the wild-pigeons. It ranges excursively, and flies horizontally with a noiseless speed, dropping on the topmost stems of trees, or descending into the middlemost branches. When alighting, it betrays its presence by a sound like the drawling cuck-cuck-cuck of a sauntering barn-door fowl.”

One which was slightly wounded, on being put into a cage with some Pea-doves, began to attack them by munching out their feathers. It was therefore placed by itself, when it sat moody and motionless; attempting occasionally, however, to seize cockroaches which were put in to it, and biting spitefully at the hand when approached.

In skinning this bird, an operation very difficult from the tenderness of the skin, my attention was called to a number of Entozoa, which were writhing about on the surface of the sclerotica of the eyes, within the orbit. They were very active, about half an inch long, and as thick as a horse-hair. Under a lens, they appeared whitish, pellucid, cylindrical, but tapered at each end; the intestinal canal distinctly visible, much corrugated and in motion. There were traces of transverse wrinkles. Sam informed me that he had observed them once before in the eyes of the same species.

BLACK-EARED CUCKOO.[83]

Coccyzus seniculus.

Cuculus seniculus, Linn.—Aud. pl. 169.

Erythrophrys seniculis, Sw.

The tawny underparts, contrasted with the sober grey of the upper, glossed like shot-silk, and the long tail beautifully barred with black and white, render the subject before us one of the handsomest of this genus of Cuckoos. It is a dull, and, so to speak, a stupid bird; we not unfrequently see it suddenly fly out from the woods, and crossing the road rest on a branch at a short distance, where it sits little disturbed by the proximity of passengers: or jumps to another twig near, and thence to another. I have never heard it utter a sound. It lives on soft insects, large spiders, &c., which are stationary, and which it seeks by thus peeping among the trees, and for the capture of which long flights would be unnecessary.

I know nothing of its domestic economy; but in January I have found eggs in the ovary, as large as dust-shot.

The shortness of the intestinal canal, and its freedom from convolutions is remarkable, and struck me forcibly by comparison with that of a White-winged Dove, which I happened to dissect on the same day with this. The length of the intestine in the granivorous bird was forty-one inches, that in the insectivorous, ten.

SAVANNA BLACKBIRD.[84]

Crotophaga Ani.—Linn.

Pl. Enl. 102.

In all open places, but particularly savannas and pastures which are occupied by cattle or horses, these birds are seen all day long, and all the year round. They are perhaps the most common of the birds of Jamaica. Familiar and impudent, though very wary, they permit a considerable acquaintance with their manners, while an approach within a limited distance, in a moment sets the whole flock upon the wing, with a singular cry, which the negroes please to express by the words, going-awa-a-ay, but which may be as well described, according to the fancy of the hearer, as How-d’ye? or Anī. The appearance of the bird in its gliding flights is unusual; the body is slender, the head large, and the beak enormous; and as in flying it assumes a perfectly straight form, with the long tail in the same line, without flapping the wings, it takes the aspect, on a side view, rather of a fish than of a bird. The centre of the upper mandible is hollow, and the surrounding part is composed of cells of very thin bone, as is the lower mandible. It thus bears a great resemblance to the beaks of the Toucans and Hornbills. The belly is thin and lank, and the bird, even though fat, has always the appearance of meagreness: the shabbiness of the downy feathers that clothe the belly and the long tibiæ, adds to this effect. In these particulars, as well as in general aspect and manners, the Blackbird displays a strong affinity to the Cuckoos and Toucans; indeed, if I may judge from a living Rhamphastos carinatus which was some time in my possession, it seems nearer to the latter than to the former.

The food of our Blackbird, though consisting mainly of insects, is not confined to them. We usually find the stomach distended with caterpillars, moths, grasshoppers, beetles, and other insects, to such a degree that we wonder how the mass could have been forced in. But I have found these contents mixed up with, and stained by the berries of the snake-withe; and in July I have found the stomach crammed with the berries of the fiddle-wood, (Cytharaxylon,) which had stained the whole inner surface of a bright crimson. Flocks of these birds were at that time feeding on the glowing clusters profusely ripe upon the trees. Stationary insects are the staple food; to obtain which, they hop about grassy places, and are often seen to jump, or to run eagerly at their prey; on which occasions the long tail, continuing the given motion after the body has stopped, is thrown forward in an odd manner, sometimes nearly turning the bird head over heels. It is probably to protect the eyes from the stalks of weeds and blades of grass in these headlong leaps, that the projecting brows are furnished with a row of short but very stiff overhanging bristles; but what purpose was served by the high and thin knife-blade of a beak, I was ignorant, till informed by Mr. Hill, who observes that it “enables the bird to open out the soft earth, and seek for its insect food; it also facilitates its access to the vermin imbedded in the long close hair of animals. I am assured,” he adds, “that if a patch of cows’ dung be examined after Crotophagas have been searching for the larvæ of insects, it will be found furrowed as if a miniature plough had passed through it.”

The form of this organ has given occasion, in Hayti, where also it is common, to the appellation of “bout de tabac,” that is “bowl of tobacco pipe;” it is also called there Judeo.

The name Crotophaga, (tick-eater,) is no misnomer, as has been, without foundation, asserted by some who never saw the living bird. Almost every one in Jamaica is aware that the Savanna Blackbird, as well as the Grakle, feeds on the parasites of cattle. I made particular inquiries about this soon after my arrival, and was assured of the fact by persons who had witnessed it multitudes of times, and who could not “mistake” the Blackbird for the Grakle, their whole form, voice, and motions, being different.

Afterwards, however, I had repeated opportunities of personal observation on this point. One day I noticed a cow lying down, around which were four or five Blackbirds, hopping on and off her back, and eagerly picking the insects from her body; which service seemed in no wise unpleasing to her. I have also seen them leaping up on cows when grazing; and, on another occasion, jumping to and from a horse’s back; and my lad Sam has repeatedly observed them clinging to a cow’s tail, and picking insects from it, as far down as the terminal tuft. Had cattle been pastured near where I resided, I should doubtless have had many more ocular demonstrations: but the evidence is amply sufficient. In some of these cases, the occurrence was close to me, so that there was no possibility of deception, especially as, being aware of the conflicting statement, I looked with the more interest to satisfy myself.

But stationary insects are not the only prey of the Crotophaga; in December, I have seen little groups of them engaged in the evenings, leaping up from the pasture about a yard into the air, doubtless after flying insects, which they seemed to catch. One day in March as I sat at dinner, my attention was arrested by what seemed to be a green bird chased by several Crotophagas, near the top of a lofty tree at some distance, I presently saw that it was a very large lepidopterous insect; it flew over the woods about a quarter of a mile before I lost sight of it, when it appeared to alight on the top of a tree. The birds did not pursue the chase far. I have seen one with a dragon-fly in its beak, which it had just caught, but it may have been while resting. At another time I saw that a Blackbird had actually made prey of one of our little nimble lizards (Anolis). These circumstances show, that like the Toucans, the Ani is to some extent omnivorous.

Though its usual mode of progression on the ground is by hopping, or rather bounding, the feet being lifted together, the Blackbird is seen occasionally to run in a headlong manner for a short distance, moving the feet alternately. He is fond of sitting in the morning sun on a low tree with the wings expanded; remaining there perfectly still for a considerable time. In the heat of the day, in July and August, many may be seen in the lowland plains, sitting on the fences and logwood hedges with the beaks wide open, as if gasping for air; they then forget their usual loquacity and wariness. Often two or three will sit in the centre of a thick bush, overhung with a matted drapery of convolvolus, whence they utter their singular cry in a calling tone, as if they were playing at hide-and-seek, and requiring their fellows to come and find them.

The statement that the Blackbird builds in company, forming an immense nest of basket-work by the united labours of the flock, is universally maintained by the inhabitants of the colony. It is said to be usually on a high tree, where many parents bring forth and educate a common family. Mr. Hill, whose statements in Jamaican Ornithology are worthy of unlimited confidence, observes: “Some half-a-dozen of them together build but one nest, which is large and capacious enough for them to resort to in common, and to rear their young ones together. They are extremely attentive to the business of incubation, and never quit the nest, while sitting, without covering the eggs with leaves, to preserve them at an equal temperature.” The only instance in which I ever met with a nest, while it is not conclusive, is rather in favour of this opinion than the opposite. In July I found a Blackbirds’ nest in a Bastard Cedar (Guazuma); it was a rather large mass of interwoven twigs lined with leaves. Eight eggs were in the nest, and the shells of many more were also in it, and scattered beneath the tree. The eggs were about as large as a pullet’s, very regularly oval, of a greenish blue, but covered with a coating of white chalky substance, which was much scratched and eroded on them all, and which was displaced with little force. On being broken, the interior was peculiar; the glaire was less tenacious than usual, but more jelly-like, yet at the same time thinner in consistence; but what surprised me was, that in each egg this glaire filled at least three-fourths of the whole space, while the yolk, flattened in form, not larger in diameter than a coat-button-mould, and about twice as thick, was adhering to one side and end. It was pale, and resembled in appearance that of a hen’s egg, when just turned by boiling. I examined several, and found all alike.

I close this account with some pleasing notes of the species by Mr. Hill. “Though the Savanna Blackbird is classed among the scansorial or climbing tribe of birds, and has the yoke-formed foot,—like another class of the Cuckoo tribe among us, of which we have four or five different kinds,—it is generally a downward, not an upward climber. It enters a tree by alighting on the extremity of some main branch, and gains the centre of the foliage by creeping along the stem, and searching for its insect food. Unlike, however, our Cuckoos, which are solitary-feeding birds, it does not range from stem to stem, and search the tree through. The Blackbirds, moving in flocks of half-dozens, tens, and twelves, seldom penetrate far among the leaves. They glance along the branches rapidly, and silently quit the tree they have visited, by dropping one by one on some inviting spot on the green sward under them, or start away suddenly, the whole possé together, to some near-by thicket, to which one among them generally leads with that peculiar shrill and screaming cry that distinguishes them from every other bird of the field.

“These Savanna Blackbirds are favourites with me. Other winged wanderers have their season, but these are the tenants of the field all the year round. Their life is in the sunshine. Wherever there are open lands in tillage or pasture, with intermingled trees and shrubs, there these social birds frequent:—always familiar and seemingly fearless, but never omitting to set their sentinel watchmen to sound their cry when any one obtrudes nearer upon them than to a certain space within their social haunts.

“After a passing fall of rain, one of our sudden mid-day thunder showers for instance, when the full burst of sunshine, bright and fierce, breaks again on the freshened landscape;—the first bird seen creeping out from the thicket to dry his wings, and regain the fields, is the Savanna Blackbird. The Mocking-bird, ready as he is with his song, to gladden the landscape once more, is seldom before the shrill Blackbird, in breaking the hush that succeeds the overpast shower. Que-yuch, que-yuch, que-yuch is heard from some embowered clump not far off, and a little stream of Blackbirds, with their long tails and short gliding wings outstretched in flight, are seen straggling away to some spot, where insect-life is stirring, in the fresh, damp, and exuberant earth. The sun is levelling its slant beam along the plains, and the sea-breeze is breathing fresh and fragrant with a sense of reviving moisture from the afternoon showers, que-yuch, que-yuch, que-yuch is heard again, hastily and anxiously repeated; and the little birds are seen scrambling into the hedge-rows, and the Blackbirds are pushing from the outer limbs of the solitary thicket, from whence they sounded their cry of alarm, to gain the inward covert of the leaves. A hawk with silent stealth is skimming along the bordering woodland, gliding occasionally downward to the lesser bushes in the Savanna. The tocsin of the Blackbird, however, has warned the whole field, and not a voice is heard, and not a wing is stirring.

“In the hot and sultry days when the dews have ceased to fall, and all vegetation is parched and languid, the Blackbirds are seen wending their way at an early hour of the afternoon to the riverside, trooping in little parties. They have found some spot where an uprooted tree has grounded in the shallow stream. Here they are perched, some tail upward, drinking from the gliding waters below, some silent and drooping, some pluming themselves, and some in the sands that have shoaled about the embedded trunk of the tree, washing in the little half-inch depths of water. They will continue here till sunset, when they will start off laggingly, the signal being first given by some one of the flock, who has announced, that it is time to seek their coverts for the night, with the still peculiar cry of que-yuch.”

I am inclined to attach very little importance to the wrinkles on the beak as indicating specific difference: these, as well as the form and size of the organ, varying considerably in individuals from the same locality; the result, I have no doubt, of age.

Order.—GYRANTES. (Circlers.)

Fam.—COLUMBADÆ. (The pigeons.)

RING-TAIL PIGEON.[85]

Columba Caribbea.

Columba Caribbea, Linn.—Temm. Pig. pl. 10.

Columba lamprauchen, Wagl.

Of all our Doves, none is so exclusively arboreal as this. The Bald-pate, the Blue Pigeon, and the Ring-tail are essentially tree-doves, but I have seen the first feeding on the ground, and the second is often seen running; but all who are acquainted with this bird’s haunts and habits concur in affirming that he is never seen to put his feet upon the earth. Though it is probable that he must occasionally procure gravel, to aid in the comminution of his hard food, and that, when the resources of the wild-pines are exhausted in the long droughts, he must descend to drink at the mountain ponds, or gully springs, it seems that he cautiously selects his occasion, when unwitnessed by human eyes. And yet it is said not to be a shy bird, nor, at certain times, difficult to obtain by those who have made themselves acquainted with its habits. It inhabits the most recluse and dense mountain forests, where few are able to follow it, but the negro fowlers. The penetration of steep mountain-woods, abounding in prickly bushes, and tangled, beyond all description, by twining and pendent lianes, many of which are formidably spinous, where there is nothing like a pathway, and the ground is strewn with enormous masses of honey-combed limestone, over whose sharp points the hunter must often climb at the risk of his neck,—or with a loose rubble that slips from beneath the feet, and causes continual falls, is an enterprise that demands no small degree of courage, temper, and perseverance. The naked feet of the negroes catch hold of the rocky projections, almost like the hind hands of the monkey, and they can proceed with rapid and noiseless step; while the shoes of the white man, in his slow and painful progress, betray, by the displacing of stones, and the crackling of twigs, his approach to the wary bird, while yet far away. The musquitoes also, that, thirsting for blood, and swarming in such situations, dance around his face with their maddening hum, and soon inflame head, hand, and foot with their pungent stings, make a tyro long to be out again, almost before he has lost sight of the open sky of the clearing. But it is the presence of these most annoying insects, which affords an opportunity of obtaining the highly prized Ring-tail. This bird appears to suffer more from their stings than others; or else its superior sagacity has taught it a resource of which others are ignorant, or unwilling to avail themselves. It is aware that these little insect-pests cannot abide smoke, and wherever the blue clouds curl gracefully through the tall trees from the woodman’s fire, the Ring-tail is said to resort thither, if within the neighbourhood, and solace itself with a temporary suspension of insect assaults. But, alas! it is only to expose itself to a more fatal peril, for the negro sportsmen have marked the habit, and fail not to take advantage of it. Whenever they have noticed the birds feeding on the berries of any particular tree, they take an early opportunity of kindling a fire beneath it, near which they conceal themselves, so as to watch the tree. The birds begin to arrive, and are shot down by the fowler one after another; the repeated flashes and reports, and the falls of their companions, driving the survivors away for a few moments only from the attractive spot, to which they again and again return till the gunner’s ambition is satisfied. They are frequently brought to Kingston, Savanna-le-Mar, and the other towns, and are eagerly purchased for the table; though, as the distance which they are carried usually prevents their arrival on the day they are killed, they are almost invariably deplumed and drawn, and the inside strongly peppered before they are sent to market. Hence specimens for the naturalist, are to be obtained only by a special expedition. Of the three superlative delicacies of which the natives of Jamaica boast, the Ringtail holds the undisputed pre-eminence. The others are the Fresh-water Mullet, and the Black Land-crab. Dr. Chamberlaine (Comp. to Jam. Alm. 1840) mentions this bird as “the most luscious dainty of his class, or of any other. I am acquainted,” he further observes, “with no bird that the sportsman pursues, that can be compared to the Ring-tail Pigeon, for the richness, the delicacy, and the tenderness of his flesh. He is, during the months of September, October, and November, a mass of luscious fat, and his plump and well-enveloped flesh acquires for him a superiority over that of all his tribe.” It is a common thing, at the period of their high condition, for birds shot from a tall tree to burst asunder with the fall.

The Ring-tail is stated invariably to perch near the middle of a tree, usually in the fork of the principal limbs; where, when seated, it will remain quietly looking down at the fowler, perhaps within a few yards of his head. The centre of those trees which are clothed with a dense tangled mass of withes or creepers, is preferred; and it is asserted that on no occasion is this bird to be seen perched on an exterior twig or branch. The Blue Pigeon sometimes manifests the same predilection; but with him it is only when the gusty “norths,” rocking the flexible branches, would make his seat on them uncomfortable if not insecure.

The Ring-tail will sometimes leave his solitudes, and come down to eat the berries of missletoe, growing on sour-sop and other trees. A friend has seen four thus engaged on a tree in the house-yard. It eats the seed of the yam also in the provision ground.

When the vernal rains have copiously descended, the “negro-yam” sends out plentifully its young and tender shoots: the tips of these, with the unopened leaves and buds, are particularly agreeable to this exquisite bird, and it may often be shot at that season in the grounds of the mountain slopes. It is, however, then in poor condition.

By an Act of the Colonial Legislature, 10 Ann. xvi. 3, wild pigeons were forbidden to be killed in the parishes of St. Catherine or St. John’s, or on any island or kay, in the months of May, June, and July, under a penalty of forty shillings, or slaves to have thirty-nine lashes. Since the abolition of slavery, this, as well as many other laws, of similarly oppressive character, has been repealed.

Robinson found in one, the hard perforated seeds of the small palmetto-thatch. He mentions also, that in the autumn they owe their fatness to feeding on the fruit of the trumpet-tree, wild-raspberries, and wild star-apples. “It is remarkable,” he observes, “that the thighs [tibiæ?] are twice the length of the legs [tarsi?].”

The unwonted absence of the seasonal rains in the spring of 1846, rendered my efforts to obtain specimens of this fine bird fruitless, though I sent experienced persons many times to their usual haunts. I am therefore compelled to give a description from Dr. Robinson’s MSS. The preceding accounts, also, are the results, not of personal observation, but of careful and minute and repeated inquiries. Mr. Hill writes me that it has been abundant on the Highgate mountains since my departure.

Temminck asserts that the Ring-tail seems to be spread over the whole Antilles and Bahamas, but is not aware that it exists on the continent. Mauge found it at Porto Rico, where it is said to associate in flocks of many hundreds. (!)

BLUE PIGEON.[86]

Columba rufina.

Columba rufina, Temm. Pig. 24.

Columba Cayanensis, Bonn.

The Blue Pigeon is found both on the mountains and in the lowlands. On the former it seems less to affect the deep forest, than such woods as skirt cultivated ground. When the purple berries of the phytolacca are ripe, about the end of the year, these pigeons flock in considerable numbers to feed at dawn and at evening. About the same time they are numerous in the lowlands, for I have found them plentiful in the large morass that extends along the shore from Crabpond to Parker’s Bay. They were flying about in pairs, for the most part, among the black mangrove trees, on whose seeds they were probably feeding. But I found in the stomachs of those which I shot, the white blossoms of a species of missletoe which is abundant there, and in one the bean-like seeds of, as I believe, the madjo-bitter (Picramnia). Early in February I visited the mangrove woods of Mount Edgecumbe morass, to seek these birds. They were rather numerous, but alighted only on the summits of the tallest trees. Finding that they were very shy, I seated myself and remained quietly watching. Thus I obtained several successive shots, as they appeared to come round to the spot periodically, perhaps once in half-an-hour. Two or three were in company, and as they flew from tree-top to tree-top, their movements were announced by a guttural jug, jug, and by the loud rushing of their powerful wings. Frequently one would chase another round the trees, playfully, which I conjectured to be a symptom of pairing.

The common note of the Blue Pigeon resembles somewhat the barking of a cur; bow-wow—wōw, the last syllable protracted and falling. It is much like the Sary-coat-blue of the Bald-pate, but the short second syllable is wanting.

For delicacy and flavour of flesh this species scarcely yields to its congener, and is but a little less in request. It is dark in hue, but exquisitely delicious, tender, juicy, and free from bitterness.

It is an arboreal bird, but not quite so exclusively as the Ring-tail. Like the Bald-pate, he is often shot, by forestalling him at his feeding tree, before day-break. In form he agrees with the bird just named; his legs and feet are stout and strong; his head and neck small and slender; the plumage of his nape forms a sort of ridge. M. Temminck, probably having never seen the bird alive, and not being aware of the very singular peculiarity of the iris mentioned in the note, has given his figure red eyes. The two colours impart a very unusual character to the physiognomy of the species; it is constant, not accidental.

About the end of April, I was informed of a Blue Pigeon’s nest on a lofty limb of an inaccessible cotton tree. It was a more substantial structure than those of its congeners, being made of dried grass, or similar material, as well as twigs. A Bald-pate had a nest on a contiguous tree, and the neighbouring birds were continually squabbling. I have never seen the eggs.

The Blue Pigeon is said to inhabit not only all the great islands of the West Indies, but also Guiana.

BALD-PATE.[87] (White-crowned Pigeon. Bon.)

Columba leucocephala, Linn.

Aud. pl. 177.

This fine dove is common in almost all situations, but chiefly affects the groves of pimento, which generally adorn the mountain pens. The sweet aromatic berries afford him abundant and delicious food during the pimento season; the umbrageous trees afford him a concealment suited to his shy and suspicious character; and on them his mate prefers to build her rude platform-nest, and rear her tender progeny. Wary exceedingly, the Bald-pate, from his seat among the topmost twigs, discerns the gunner, himself unseen, and intimates his vicinity only by the rushing of his strong wings, as he shoots off to some distant part of the grove. In the breeding season, however, when alarmed from the nesting tree, he does not fly far, and soon returns; so that the sportsman, by concealing himself, and watching the bird’s return, may bring him down. When the pimento is out of season, he seeks other food; the berries of the sweetwood, the larger ones of the breadnut, and burn-wood, of the bastard cedar, and the fig, and the little ruddy clusters of the fiddle-wood, attract him. He feeds early in the morning, and late in the afternoon: large numbers resort to a single tree, (though not strictly gregarious,) and when this is observed, the sportsman, by going thither before dawn, and lying in wait, may shoot them one by one, as they arrive. In September and October they are in fine condition, often exceedingly fat and juicy, and of exquisite flavour. In March the clammy-cherry displays its showy scarlet racemes, to which the Bald-pates flock. The Hopping Dick, Woodpecker, and Guinea-fowl, feed also upon it. In April, Sam tells me he has seen as many as thirty, almost covering a tree, feeding on berries which he believes were those of the bully-tree. Late in the year they resort to the saline morasses, to feed on the seeds of the black-mangrove, which I have repeatedly found in the craw; I have even seen one descend to the ground beneath a mangrove, doubtless in search of the fallen seeds. In general, however, the Bald-pate is an arboreal pigeon, his visits to the earth being very rare. He often feeds at a distance from home; so that it is a common thing to observe, just before nightfall, straggling parties of two or three, or individuals, rushing along with arrowy swiftness in a straight line to some distant wood.

The Bald-pate is a noble bird; plump, yet of a graceful form; the iridescent scale-like feathers of his neck, with their black borders, are very striking: he is staid and sedate in manners, when sitting, and there is something of supercilious sternness in his countenance, which, combined with his snow-white head, always reminds me, strange as the comparison may appear, of the grand Bald-Eagle. His coo is Sary̆-coat-blūe, uttered with much energy, the second syllable short and suddenly elevated, the last a little protracted and descending.

Incubation takes place chiefly in the months of June and July. In Bluefields morass many nests are found on the tallest black-mangroves, and are much robbed by the negro youths, who rear the young for sale: the native pigeons being, more than any other birds, kept in cages by the Creoles. The nest is merely a very slight platform of dry twigs, rudely attached, on which two eggs are laid. They are of delicate whiteness, in form very regularly oval, and in dimensions 1½ inch by 1¹⁄₁₀. I never heard of its breeding on rocks.

I add a few particulars of some which I kept from early age. I shot a young one on the 2nd of September, breaking the tarsus; and about a week afterwards another was brought me which may have been rather older. The former appeared not to have finally left the nest. Both were exceedingly ugly; long-necked, thin-bodied, the head not well rounded, the fleshy part of the beak prominent, and its base unfeathered. The whole plumage was blackish ash-coloured, each feather slightly tipped with paler, and the feathers of the head terminating in little curled grey filaments, which added to the uncouth appearance of the birds. In a week or two I perceived these filaments were gradually disappearing, and about the beginning of October the small feathers began to clothe the base of the beak: these feathers were greyish-white, and at the same time the grey hue was beginning to spread up the forehead, I believe by the dropping of the black feathers, and their immediate replacement by the white ones. About this time also the general plumage began to assume the blue hue of the adult, in patches; and on the 12th of October, I first observed the beautiful iridescent feathers of the neck, but as yet only on one side. These notes refer to the elder; the other was about two weeks more backward. On the 16th, I first heard it coo; for some time it had now and then uttered a single note, but on this day it gave the whole Sary̆-coat-blūe, but short, and in a low tone; and that only once. By the end of November the white had spread over the whole crown as in the adult, but was not yet so pure or so smooth. A third, which I purchased in November, though a young one of the season, having been reared from the nest, was much more mature both in plumage and size. By the end of that month the crown of this one was perfectly in the adult plumage, the neck feathers complete on both sides, the body plump and smooth. This individual, when first put into the cage, was very cross, pecking at all the others, including some Pea-doves, whenever they came near him, and even stretching himself down from his perch to reach them as they walked under him. One or two of the Pea-doves suffered particularly, for he munched out their feathers by mouthfuls, laying bare a large portion of their backs. He soon became more reconciled, but never associated with them, never descending from his perch all day, except to feed or drink. The other Bald-pates walked about a good deal with the Pea-doves, and were rather playful. Any new object they would examine and lay hold of. Their cage, a capacious packing-box, was lined with paper; somehow or other, a bit of it was torn up; the Bald-pates were continually pulling at this, and were not content till they had stripped off a large space. A hole in the gauze front had been darned with thread; they would take the loose ends in their beaks and tug at them. Sometimes they would seize a stick or twig, and drag it about the cage. A White-belly, taken in a springe, and put with them, would not eat the Indian corn, with which they were fed, and was supplied with orange-pips: the Bald-pate would run up to the White-belly when feeding, and playfully endeavour to snatch the pips from him as he picked them up; when, however, he succeeded in getting possession of one, he immediately dropped it: it was only the fun he wanted. If I inserted my finger through the gauze, he would seize it with his beak, and, as it were, chew it, and tug at it in various directions, turning, and sometimes quite inverting, his head. He would always take a grain of corn from my hand, even if he did not eat it.

Towards the end of the year, all of my Bald-pates used to coo frequently, and, what is strange, often in the night. When wakeful from sickness, I have heard it from the adjoining room at intervals, four or five times during the night: especially on those nights in January, when the furious norths blow with so much violence; the bird probably awakened or made uncomfortable by the cold and howling gusts that penetrate every room, as if they would “blow the house out of the windows.” On each occasion the whole set of syllables was repeated twice or thrice in quick succession, preceded by a low note, and then the former silence was maintained. The imitation of their coo, which may be very accurately effected, always attracted attention from the birds, manifested by their eyes turned towards the sound, and their necks stretched out.

WHITEWING DOVE.[88] (Lapwing.)

Turtur leucopterus.

Columba leucoptera, Linn.—Edw. 76.

Zenaida leucoptera, G. R. Gray.

This is a Turtle of much elegance. Its general aspect resembles that of the Pea-dove, but its colour is less warm, and its figure less plump. The singular white band on the wing is at any distance a sufficient distinctive mark. It is the only gregarious Dove we have; for the small companies of the Ground Dove can hardly entitle it to be so called: the Whitewing, however, associates in flocks of twenty or thirty, which, when removing, fly in a body, as do tame Pigeons. In the early months of the year, when the physic-nut (Jatropha curcas) is ripening, and oranges come in, the Whitewing becomes plentiful in open pastures, and the low woods in the neighbourhood of habitations; the seeds of these fruits, and the castor-oil nut, forming the principal part of their food. At this time they are very easily shot, as they walk about on the ground. They are also taken very readily in springes, and in traps called calambans, baited with orange seeds. Sometimes when the foot is caught in the springe, the bird will remain very quietly; at others it struggles much, so as almost to be deplumed: cats often find them, and leave little but feathers to the owner. Occasionally the bird is caught by the neck, and I have been told of an instance, in which a Whitewing taken thus, flying with impetuosity on the alarm, cut its head absolutely off with the string, the body falling one way and the head another. From the ease with which they are procured, they are a good deal eaten, though seldom fat, and rather subject to be bitter.

When the rains fall, we see the Whitewings but seldom; they betake themselves to the deep woods and impenetrable morasses, when their presence is indicated by their loud stammering coo. The full coo consists of more notes than that of any other of our Doves; rendered into negro-English, it runs thus: “Since poor Gilpin die, cow-head spoil,” the last note protracted and falling meaningly. This, however, is not uttered, as far as my experience goes, when coming out into “the open” to feed. Two which I had with other Doves, caged, were usually silent; but in Mr. Hill’s larger collection, the Whitewings were most pertinaciously vociferous. All the day long, the four-fold coo, “two bits for two” or “what’s that to you?” loud and vehement, saluted our ears. Sometimes it was replaced by a sort of chorus, more musical, “toora-loora, toora-loora.” The other Doves cooed occasionally, but the Whitewings incessantly.

The food of this Pigeon, when retired from view, I am not acquainted with; it is probably the seeds and berries which supply its congeners. The seed of the sour-sop is perhaps agreeable to it, for one of my lads once caught a Whitewing by bird-lime set for Blue Quits at a ripe sour-sop. Farinaceous and pulpy berries are found in the woods at all seasons, so that the Pigeons and other frugivorous birds have not only abundance but variety. Its nest is not very often met with. I am informed that it occasionally builds in a pimento; Robinson says that it builds also in the orange, and sea-side grape, in May, a very slight and narrow platform of rude twigs, and lays two eggs, of a pale drab hue.

The general form, the shortness of the tarsus, the length of the tail, and its manners, associate this species rather with the arboreal than the terrestrial Doves. It, however, approaches the latter. Those which I kept in a cage, habitually rested on the highest perches, while the Pea-doves generally rested on the floor.

The Whitewing is swift and strong on the wing; but its flight is not accompanied with that peculiar whistling, produced by the wings of the Pea-dove.

PEA-DOVE.[89] (Zenaida Pigeon.—Bon.)

Zenaida amabilis.

Columba Zenaida, Bonap.—Aud. pl. 162.

Zenaida amabilis, Ibid.

The open pastures, or the grassy glades of pimento pens, are the favourite haunts of this pretty Dove, where it walks on the ground singly or in pairs. In such open situations, it can discover, and mark the motions of an intruder, and long before he is within gun-range it is upon the wing. Few birds are more difficult of approach, unless the intervention of a wall or a thick bush permit a concealed access. Its flight is rapid and forcible, and performed with a peculiar whistling of the wings, by which it is at once recognised, though unseen.

The Pea-dove is frequently seen in the middle of dusty high-roads, but whether they resort thither for the purpose of dusting, or to procure gravel, I cannot say, as they usually fly as soon as seen. When the rains have ceased, the increasing drought renders these, as it does many other birds, more familiar; and they may be seen lingering on the borders of streams and ponds. Indeed they seem, of all our Doves, to haunt most the vicinity of water; particularly those dreary swamps or morasses which are environed by tall woods of mangrove. In the winter months, when the pastures are burnt up with drought, we may hear all day long their plaintive cooing, proceeding from these sombre groves, though it is not much heard in any other situation. The coo consists of five deliberate notes, loud but mournful, “Sary-coat-true-blue,” all in the same tone, save the second, which is short and elevated. It resembles the note of the Carolina Dove.

The Pea-dove subsists on various fruits and seeds: pimento-berries, orange-pips, sop-seeds, castor-oil nuts, physic-nuts, maize, and the smaller seeds of pasture weeds are some of his resources. His flesh is white and juicy, and when in good condition is in general estimation. His form is plump, and his plumage beautifully smooth; though its colours are sober, they are chaste and pleasing; and the aspect of his countenance, with his dark liquid eye, is remarkably engaging.

I kept several of these birds in a cage for nearly a year, but they were too timid to be interesting in confinement. They could not bear any approach to them, without fluttering violently. They were very restless, walking rapidly about the cage-floor all day long, invariably walking over each other, rather than deviating from their course. Only one or two habitually perched. The Pea-dove has the habit of jerking the head by quickly shortening, and then lengthening the neck, immediately and invariably followed by a flirt upward of the tail; this action my captives were perpetually performing at intervals of a few seconds, when not walking. They slept on the floor of the cage, but were extremely wakeful. I have many times crept silently into the room at various hours of the night, taking off my shoes and moving with extreme caution, but always found them wide-awake; perhaps sensible of the light of the candle, even when the eyes were closed. My servant, however, found them asleep very early one morning, when they awoke with a start: the head was not behind the wing.

They were jealous of other birds, and, notwithstanding their gentle physiognomy, irritable and pugnacious. A Cashew bird that was a fellow-prisoner, they would strike at with the wing, and even if I myself suddenly approached, the wing was raised in defence. They were spiteful towards an unoffending Kildeer Plover, pecking at him so violently as to pull the feathers from his side, and make him cry out. I fed them with maize.

I have now in my possession a Pea-dove, shot by Sam in December, the lower mandible of which is distorted by the point being turned on one side, so that the mandibles cross as in the Cross-bill. The tips, however, could be brought into contact. It was shabby in plumage, and in very poor condition, the cause of which was obvious, for, open the plumage of the under parts wherever I would, the body was swarming with lice (Nirmus); and a large proportion of the body feathers were crowded with nits to such a degree, that on one feather which I placed under a lens I counted upwards of 170; and there were other feathers more crowded than this. I judged it to be a moderate estimate, that on this unfortunate bird there were not less than 500 lice, and 10,000 nits. On one of the thighs, where they were very thick, there was an ulcer. In addition to this, two large bird flies (Ornithomyia) flew from the plumage, while I was examining it.

The nest is, as usual, a loose platform of twigs interlaced, with scarcely any hollow, and no leaves; it is often built in an orange, or a pimento, and contains two eggs of a drab hue. Near the end of March we started a Pea-dove from the centre of a lofty Ebby palm (Elais) in Mount Edgecumbe; it immediately alighted on the ground just before my lad, and began to tumble about in a grotesque manner, affecting inability to fly. Sam was not to be caught, however; but calling my attention to the circumstance, we began to peer among the fronds of the tree, where we presently discerned the projecting ends of the twigs that constituted her nest, the centre of her fears and anxieties. It was inaccessible, however, when discovered.

GROUND DOVE.[90]

Chamæpelia passerina.

Columba passerina, Linn.—Aud. pl. 182.

Chamæpelia passerina, Sw.

Though it would be scarcely proper to term this little bird gregarious, it is certainly social, being rarely seen alone. In pairs or small companies of three or four, it frequents pastures, on the short turf of which it runs with considerable speed; and is rather loath to take wing, often allowing a person to approach within a few yards. If one fly, however, all fly; but seldom go far; alighting either on the ground again, or on some neighbouring tree of small elevation. As it runs along, the tail is usually erected, which gives it the aspect of a miniature fowl.

I have found the craw full of small seeds of grasses; they also eat the seeds of the Jatropha and of the castor-oil plant, and particularly those of the gamboge-thistle, (Argemone,) so common in pastures. They are fond of picking about the beds of shallots and escalions, for minute seeds exposed in the newly-turned earth. They are, therefore, readily taken in springes made of horse-hair; they are more commonly caught by the neck than by the feet, and not seldom, as I am assured, is the neck quite cut off; though I presume the springe in such cases must be of stronger material.

The Ground-dove is numerous all the year round. In March, I observed it particularly abundant on the banks of the Rio Cobre, especially on a flat gravelly bed, partially surrounded by the bending stream near Spanish Town. The boys of the neighbourhood took advantage of the thirsty birds’ resort to the water, by strewing about the spot the seeds of the cockspur, (Pisonia aculeata); a burr so adhesive, that if one touch but a feather, it is immovable; a very little struggling entangles other feathers, and the bird is utterly helpless. So firmly tenacious is the hold, that even when the bird is in the hand the seed can be removed only by plucking away each feather it has touched. Many are caught by this singular artifice.

It is very easily deprived of life. I have known one fly into a room, and, striking its head against the ceiling, fall down and die in an instant.

From April to June the low woods resound with the coo of this little Dove. Sometimes it resembles the word meho? in an interrogative tone, loud, querulous, and pertinacious in iteration. At others it is like children calling whoop. It is not at all plaintive in its character.

There is a singular projection on the outline of the inner web of the fourth primary, in this genus, and more slightly on that of the fifth. The object of this peculiarity it is not easy to conjecture.

Dr. Robinson, having weighed one, records the weight as one ounce sixteen grains, troy. He mentions also, what I have not seen, that “the irides consist of, first, one ring of yellow, then one of black, a narrower of black, and another of yellow, broader.” (MSS. ii. 97.) Wilson’s description appears to me to have been taken from a preserved skin.

WHITEBELLY.[91]

Peristera Jamaicensis.

Columba Jamaicensis, Linn.

Columba rufaxilla, Rich. et Bern.

Columba frontalis, Temm. Pig. 10.

This lovely Pigeon is chiefly confined to the upland districts; where its loud and plaintive cooing makes the woods resound. The negroes delight to ascribe imaginary words to the voices of birds, and indeed for the cooings of many of the pigeons, this requires no great stretch of imagination. The beautiful Whitebelly complains all day, in the sunshine as well as the storm, “Rain-come-wet-me-through!” each syllable uttered with a sobbing separateness, and the last prolonged with such a melancholy fall, as if the poor bird were in the extremity of suffering. But it is the note of health, of joy, of love; the utterance of exuberant animal happiness; a portion of that universal song wherewith “every thing that hath breath may praise the Lord.” The plumage, as usual in this family, is very soft and smooth, the expression of the countenance most engagingly meek and gentle. And it is a gentle bird: I have taken one into my hand, when just caught in a springe, full grown and in its native wildness; and it has nestled comfortably down, and permitted its pretty head and neck to be stroked, without an effort to escape, without a flutter of its wings.

This is one of those species which habitually live on the ground: in unfrequented woods, as well those which are open, as those which are choked with underwood, the Whitebelly walks about singly or in pairs picking up various seeds. About Content, a densely wooded mountain side, it is very numerous in June and July, feeding on sop-seeds, and many are taken in springes. The physic-nut forms a large portion of its food; as well as orange-pips; and fragments of the large seeds of the mango, chewed by hogs. Its flesh is generally esteemed; it is white, juicy, and well-flavoured, without being liable to bitterness.

As it walks to and fro, it frequently flirts the head and tail, but not so markedly as the Pea-dove. If flushed, it betakes itself to a low tree not far off, whence, if unmolested, it is soon down again. Often when seen in the woods, it runs a few yards, and then rises to fly, but as if trusting less to its powers of flight than to those of running, alights again immediately, and runs swiftly off among the bushes. It has no regular roosting-place, often spending the night on a stone, or a log, or a low bush that happens to be near the spot where it was feeding at nightfall. This is not the case with the other Doves.

The aspect and air of the Whitebelly are unlike those of its kindred. Its round head, the prevalence of light hues, and its height upon the legs, contribute to this peculiarity. Essentially a ground-pigeon, its length of tarsus enables it to run with ease and celerity; perhaps more rapidly than any other of the family.

Unlike the tree-doves, the Whitebelly usually builds in rather a low situation; often a logwood, a favourite tree with this, and the Whitewing. If in the large woods, one of moderate height is chosen. The nest consists of a few loose sticks, with some leaves in the centre; the eggs are white.

MOUNTAIN WITCH.[92]

Geotrygon sylvatica, Mihi.

No description can give an adequate notion of the lustrous radiance of this most lovely bird; though it has not yet found a place in our Ornithologies. I presume it to be the “Columba silvatica major nigro-cærulescens,” of Browne’s Jamaica, p. 468, but he has given no description; his “Mountain Witch, Mountain Partridge, or Mountain Dove,” is doubtless the bird described in the following article. Mr. Selby, in his beautiful volume on the Pigeons, in the Nat. Lib., named, without characterising, the genus Geophilus, which, while he applied it with confidence to Carunculatus and Nicobaricus, he assigned doubtingly to the larger ground doves of Cuba and Jamaica. But these species have no generic identity; nor if they had, could this name be adopted, as it had been previously used for a genus of Myriapoda.

This magnificent bird inhabits the most retired mountains, and the deepest woody glades there; places difficult of approach and rarely traversed. In the dense and lofty forest that clothes the brow of Bluefields Peak, it is very numerous, usually seen singly or in pairs, walking on the ground; the freedom of the forest there from underwood allowing it to exercise its fleetness of foot to advantage. If alarmed, it generally seeks to escape by running, its bulk and shortness of wing rendering its flight burdensome and ineffective. Its coo consists of two loud notes, the first short and sharp, the second protracted and descending with a mournful cadence. At a distance its first note is inaudible; and the second, reiterated at measured intervals, sounds like the groaning of a dying man. These moans, heard in the most recluse and solemn glens, while the bird is rarely seen, have probably given it the name of Mountain Witch.

About a score yards from the high road, just opposite Bluefields gate, is a house lately occupied, but now deserted; the space between it and the road is now overgrown with young trees sprung up with the luxuriance of tropical vegetation, and is already a wilderness. Among the bushes, the castor-oil plant and the physic-nut are numerous; and under these in the dry season, the Whitewings assemble in search of seeds. One day in November, Sam had gone thither to set a springe, when he was surprised by the sight of a Mountain Witch on the ground almost close to him. He had, the moment before, discharged his gun, and it shows the fearlessness of this beautiful bird, that it had not flown at the report. Immediately on the discovery, the lad drew back to re-load, but before he could accomplish this, the bird began to run, and was presently lost among the bushes. On several successive days it was seen at the same spot, invariably on the ground; generally it allowed a very close approach, running when the lad advanced, but stopping to gaze if he stopped. As it stood it was observed to jerk the tail in the manner of the Pea-dove. At length Sam shot it. It was a young bird, rather smaller in size and less iridescent than the adult. Its craw was full of castor-oil nuts, and contained also a little snail. This is the only instance, I ever heard of, in which this species came down to the lowlands: it was seen chiefly in the evening, and its object so far from its mountain home, was probably the search after water, the weather being very dry.

The relation which the development of the power of flight or of walking, bears to the colour of the flesh, is well shown by a comparison of this species with the Bald-pate or Blue Pigeon. The flesh of the tree dove is dark red; that of the Mountain Witch is whiter than a chicken’s: the former the more juicy, the latter tender, but dry; both are delicious in flavour.

Various seeds and nuts I have found in the gizzards of many that I have examined, some hard and stony; others farinaceous, and comminuted. The seed of the lance-wood is said to afford it food.

The Mountain Witch is generally spoken of as rare, in the island; but I suspect the remoteness and difficulty of access of its recluse solitudes, have contributed to this opinion. Robinson gives Clarendon as one of its localities: he says it is the most beautiful pigeon in Jamaica. I should be inclined to say “the most beautiful bird,” if we except the Long-tailed Humming-bird.

I had been assured by intelligent men, very familiar with these birds, that the Mountain Witch lays in March, in the angle of the roots of a tree, on the ground; that the young leave the nest about a week after they are hatched, and are led about by the mother, who scratches for them in the manner of a fowl. Some have declared that they have been eye-witnesses of this; persons who have never heard that this pigeon has any systematic affinity to the Gallinaceæ. I made many inquiries and found the statement very general, almost universal. A female shot in March had an egg in the oviduct, shelled and perfectly ready for exclusion; it was of a dull reddish-white, unspotted; and measured 1¼ inch by ⁷⁄₈.

Of many which were procured for me in May, nearly every one was of the male sex; and they were shot from trees; on inquiry into this anomaly, I was told that during incubation the male invariably lodges in a neighbouring tree; a singular deviation from its ordinary habits.

There is no appreciable difference between the sexes, except that the male has the vent, under tail-coverts, and thighs of a deeper chestnut, and empurpled. The red of the quills is also brighter.

PARTRIDGE DOVE.[93] Mountain Partridge.

Geotrygon montana.

Columba montana, Linn.

Columba Martinica, Temm. Pig. 5, 6.

? Peristera cuprea, Wagl.

I am convinced that our Partridge dove is the montana of Linnæus, and not his Martinica; the Martinica of Temminck, and not his montana; the Pigeon roux de Cayenne of Buffon, and not his P. de la Martinique; and that it is not the montana of Audubon;—provided the descriptions and figures of these naturalists faithfully represent their originals.

This bird, the female of which is the least beautiful of all our Doves, is generally scattered. It affects a well-wooded country, and is found in such woods as are more choked with bushes than such as the Whitebelly prefers; though they often dwell together. It is essentially a ground-pigeon, walking in couples or singly, seeking for seeds or gravel on the earth. It is often seen beneath a pimento picking up the fallen berries; the physic-nut also and other oily seeds afford it sustenance. Sam once observed a pair of these Doves eating the large seed of a mango, that had been crushed. With seeds, I have occasionally found small slugs, a species of Vaginulus, common in damp places, in its gizzard. Often when riding through the Cotta-wood, a dense and tangled coppice near Content, I have been startled by the loud whirring of one of these birds, and at the same instant its short, thick-set form has shot across on rapid wing, conspicuous for a moment from its bright rufous plumage, but instantly lost in the surrounding bushes. When on the ground it is wary and difficult of approach; but if it takes a tree, it seems less fearful, and will allow the aim of the sportsman. It is in the dry season, and particularly during the parching norths that prevail at intervals from November to March, that the Partridge, as well as one or two other species of Dove, is numerous in the lowland woods. In the summer it is much less frequently seen and then only in the deep woods.

In some districts it is very abundant, though Dr. Chamberlaine intimates that it has become scarce in the neighbourhood of Kingston. He mentions, as localities in which it may still be found, “the pastures beneath the Ferry-hills, and other cool and retired retreats in the parishes of St. Catherine’s, St. John’s, St. Ann’s, &c.” To these I can add from my own observation, that it is common about Auld Ayr and Shrewsbury woods, and abundant at Content, the Cotta-wood, and Vinegar Hill, in St. Elizabeth’s and Westmoreland. In the last named locality, a lad caught twenty or more, in springes, during two or three days, in February. It is readily kept in a cage with other Doves, and fed with maize.

In the Short Cut of Paradise, where the sweet-wood abounds, the Partridge is also numerous; in March and April when these berries are ripe, their stomachs are filled with them. Here at the same season, their cooing resounds, which is simply a very sad moan, usually uttered on the ground; but on one occasion we heard it from the limb of a cotton tree at Cave, on which the bird sitting, with its head drawn in, was shot in the very act. But at a little distance, the voice is not distinguishable from the moan of the Mountain Witch.

A notion prevails that the dark coloured bird is the male, and the rufous one the female; but I have proved the contrary, by repeated dissections.

One day in June, I went down with a young friend into a wooded valley at Content, to look at a Partridge’s nest. As we crept cautiously towards the spot, the male bird flew from it. I was surprised at its rudeness; it was nothing but half-a-dozen decayed leaves laid one on another, and on two or three dry twigs, but from the sitting of the birds it had acquired a slight hollowness, about as much as that of a skimmer. It was placed on the top, (slightly sunk among the leaves) of a small bush, not more than three feet high, whose glossy foliage and small white blossoms reminded me of a myrtle. There were two young, recently hatched; callow and peculiarly helpless, their eyes closed, their bills large and misshapen,—they bore little resemblance to birds.

On another occasion, I saw the male shot while sitting; the nest was then placed on a slender bush, about five feet from the ground. There were but two eggs, of a very pale buff colour; sometimes, however, they are considerably darker.

When seen alive, or recently killed, the affinity of the Partridge-dove to the Mountain Witch is very apparent; the stout form, the colour of the feet, of the beak, and of the eyelids, and particularly the conical form of the head, and a tendency to the projecting hood-like plumage of the occiput, help to indicate its true place. It has little resemblance to either a Zenaida or a Peristera. The flesh is very white; like that of its congener.

The woodsmen speak of a Blue Partridge, and a Red-necked Dove; the former is figured by Robinson, and is no doubt a ground pigeon. The Spanish Partridge (Starnænas cyanocephala) is not considered as indigenous in Jamaica, though it is frequently imported thither from Cuba. It may, however, yet be found in the precipitous woods of the north side; Albin, Brisson, Buffon, and Temminck, attribute it positively to our island.

Order.—GALLINÆ. (Poultry.)

Fam.—PHASIANIDÆ. (The Pheasants.)

GUINEA-FOWL.[94]

Numida meleagris.—Linn.

In a country whose genial climate so closely resembled its own, and which abounded with dense and tangled thickets, the well-known wandering propensities of the Guinea-fowl would no doubt cause it to become wild very soon after its introduction. It was abundant in Jamaica as a wild bird, 150 years ago, for Falconer mentions it among the wild game, in his amusing “Adventures.” I shall confine myself to a few notes of its present habits, which are in all probability those of its original condition.

The Guinea-fowl makes itself too familiar to the settlers by its depredations in the provision-grounds. In the cooler months of the year, they come in numerous coveys from the woods, and scattering themselves in the grounds at early dawn, scratch up the yams and cocoes. A large hole is dug by their vigorous feet in very short time, and the tubers exposed, which are then pecked away, so as to be almost destroyed, and quite spoiled. A little later, when the planting season begins, they do still greater damage, by digging up and devouring the seed-yams, and cocoe-heads, thus frustrating the hopes of the husbandman in the bud. “The corn is no sooner put into the ground than it is scratched out; and the peas are not only dug up by them, but shelled in the pod.” (Dr. Cham.) The sweet potato, however, as I am informed, escapes their ravages, being invariably rejected by them. To protect the growing provisions, some of the negro peasants have recourse to scarecrows, and others endeavour to capture the birds by a common rat-gin set in their way. It must, however, be quite concealed, or it may as well be at home; it is therefore sunk in the ground, and lightly covered with earth and leaves. A springe is useless, unless the cord be blackened and discoloured so as to resemble the dry trailing stem of some creeper, for they are birds of extreme caution and suspicion. It is hence extremely difficult to shoot them, their fears being readily alarmed, and their fleetness soon carrying them beyond the reach of pursuit. But the aid of a dog, even a common cur, greatly diminishes the difficulty. Pursuit by an animal whose speed exceeds their own, seems to paralyze them; they instantly betake themselves to a tree, whence they may be shot down with facility, as their whole senses appear to be concentrated upon one object, the barking cur beneath, regarding whom with attent eyes, and outstretched neck, they dare not quit their position of defence. Flight cannot be protracted by them, nor is it trusted to as a means of escape, save to the extent of gaining the elevation of a tree: the body is too heavy, the wings too short and hollow, and the sternal apparatus too weak, for flight to be any other than a painful and laborious performance.

The Guinea-fowl is sometimes caught by the following stratagem; a small quantity of corn is steeped for a night in proof rum, and is then placed in a shallow vessel, with a little fresh rum, and the water expressed from a bitter cassava, grated; this is deposited within an inclosed ground, to which the depredators resort. A small quantity of the grated cassava is then strewn over it, and it is left. The fowls eat the medicated food eagerly, and are soon found reeling about intoxicated, unable to escape, and content with thrusting the head into a corner. Frequently a large part of the flock are found dead, from this cause.

Though savoury, and in high request for the table, the Guinea-fowl sometimes acquires an insufferably rank odour, from feeding on the fetid Petiveria alliacea; and is then uneatable.

The eggs are deposited in the midst of a dense tussock of grass, to the amount of a dozen or more. It is said that occasionally the number is greatly higher; and that they are laid stratum super stratum, with leaves between. If this is true, probably more than one hen participates in the maternity. The wild bird’s egg measures 1⁷⁄₁₀ by 1⁴⁄₁₀ inch; and weighs 6 dr., 1 sc., 2 gr.—(Rob. MSS.)

Fam.—TETRAONIDÆ. (The Grouse.)

QUAIL.[95]

Ortyx Virginiana.

Tetrao Virginianus, Linn.—Aud. pl. 76.

Ortyx Virginiana, Steph.

This beautiful game-bird, a native of North America, was introduced into Jamaica about a hundred years ago, where it was very soon naturalized, and became abundant. It is found in almost all situations, where there is cover; and from its peculiar manners, its loud call, and the sapidity of its flesh, is familiar to all.

It is scarcely seen but in coveys of a dozen or more, which run among the grass, and, if alarmed, lie so close, as to be unseen till a person is at the spot; when suddenly they rise from beneath his feet, and fly on rapid wing, and with loud whirr, to a short distance; then descending, run so swiftly as to defy pursuit. If, however, on springing a covey of Quail, we remain perfectly still, and keep a watchful eye on the spot whence they arose, we may chance to see one or two still squatting among the grass; for often some remain after their companions have departed.

Various kinds of pulse, and graminaceous seeds afford it food; in winter it lives largely on the small spotted peas of the lesser fee-fee, (Clitoria Virginiana.)

Robinson describes the egg:—“the colour, white; length 1¼, breadth ¹⁵⁄₁₆ inch. Nineteen were found in one nest.”—(MSS. iii. 159.) He afterwards says, “A nest has been known to contain no less than thirty.”

Before I dismiss the Gallinaceous birds, I may mention an interesting fact, of which Mr. Hill informed me; that the Turkey is, as far as European knowledge is concerned, indigenous to the greater Antilles, having been found by the Spanish discoverers, already domesticated by the Indians; and that the European domestic breed is descended from West Indian, and not from North American parentage. This would perhaps tend to confirm, what has been suspected, that the domestic Turkey is specifically distinct from the wild Turkey of North America.

Order.—GRALLÆ. (Waders.)

Fam.—CHARADRIADÆ. (The Plovers.)

SHORT-BILLED PLOVER.[96]

Ægialites melodus.

Charadrius hiaticula, Wils.—Aud. pl. 220.

Charadrius melodus, Ord.

I have nothing to add to Wilson’s memoir of this little bird. About the beginning of November, they arrive in Jamaica from the north; after which they may be seen running swiftly on the mud of morasses, and on the sea-beach, in company with Sand-pipers. They feed on small mollusca, worms, &c.

KILDEER PLOVER.[97] Tilderee.—Tell-tale.

Ægialites vociferus.

Charadrius vociferus, Linn.—Aud. pl. 225.

Ægialites vociferus, Boie.

It is in the large open pastures of the lowlands that the Tell-tale dwells. The traveller, as he passes along, is startled by the sudden rise of a dozen or twenty of these birds, almost from under his feet, before unseen, but now manifesting their presence by the shrillest cries, as they wheel swiftly round in a large circle, alighting near the spot whence they arose. In winter great numbers flock to the stony plains, which flying in a dense body afford a fair mark to the sportsman, by whom their flesh is esteemed. The majority of these birds seem to be merely winter visitants, but a few certainly do remain with us through the summer. Robinson says, they lay their eggs among the stones near the rivulets.

One which was shot and wounded in the wing I introduced to the doves, in a large packing-case, the front of which was removed, and replaced by gauze. Immediately on being put in, it began vigorously charging at the gauze, as if it had no idea of any impediment there, running backward a little way, and then dashing at it; and this without an instant’s intermission, now and then leaping up, and uttering its wild cry. For a few minutes its impetuous motions seemed to stupify all the doves, who gazed in astonishment; but presently a young Bald-pate, who occupied one of the front corners, a very cross and surly fellow, began to peck and beat the little Plover, driving him about the cage without mercy. I had been struck at the first entry of the bird with its remarkable height, owing to the length of the tarsi, and the upright, bold attitude in which it stood. At length to escape the persecutions of the Bald-pate, it suddenly squatted down in one of the back corners, bringing the tarsi flat on the ground, and the tibiæ on them, so that I was now struck with its flatness and closeness to the ground; and I saw how it is that we so often hear their cry very near, when we can see no trace of them, and often suddenly lose sight of them when watching them running. I feel assured that this squatting is the bird’s natural resource for concealment; for on being alarmed suddenly, its first impulse is to bend partially the heel, bringing the body nearer the ground; if the danger appear to increase, it brings the tarsi flat, the tibiæ still being inclined; the body seems now in contact with the ground; but a greater terror brings it still lower, so that it really appears as if half sunk in the earth; and now no advance of the danger affects it, if there be no opening to run; it lies quite passive; its resource is exhausted.

My captive lay thus unmoved for a while, though the restless Pea-doves, in running from side to side, walked over it, trampling it under foot at every turn. When it did get up, however, and came to the front, it was again instantly assaulted by the Bald-pate, who struck it with his wing, and seized its beak with his own, and pinched it. Pitying it under these inflictions, I took it out, and allowed it to run about the room. Its actions now became quite entertaining; it ran backward and forward with surprising fleetness, but, not being used to the smoothness of board, though the floor was not at all polished, and wanting the support of the back-toe, its speed was continually causing it to slip, the feet sliding forward, so as to bring the bird down upon its tail. Now and then it would stop, and make repeated efforts to jump over the skirting-board, which being black, and the wall white, I suppose it mistook the latter for empty space. While doing this, it ever and anon emitted its loud pipe with startling shrillness. Having run into a corner, it allowed me to take it up in my hand without fluttering. When it stood, it jerked its head up and down. It was exceedingly active, when not lying close for concealment; it was not still a moment; besides the flirting of the head and tail, a tremulous motion pervaded the body, so that it seemed to be shivering. When about to take a single step, this was manifested in an odd manner; the foot touching the ground three or four times before it was put down. When it had become more at home, it devoured earthworms greedily, and would pick minute shells and entomostraca from a saucer of water, in which was a root of water-cress. In the cage it delighted to stand in its water-saucer, but when loose, the saucer being placed in one corner, it would run rapidly in and out, now and then stopping to pick at the contents.

My own acquaintance with the Grallatorial and Natatorial visitants of Jamaica is but slight. On the authority of Mr. Hill, I add to the Charadriadæ above mentioned, the Ring Plover (Ægialites semipalmatus), the Golden Plover (Charadrius Virginiacus), the Squatting Plover (Squatarola Helvetica), and the Turnstone (Strepsilas interpres).

Fam.—ARDEADÆ. (The Herons.)

COMMON GAULIN.[98]

Egretta nivea.—Mihi.

It was on the 1st of August, the anniversary of freedom to the slave, that I first met with this beautiful bird. By a singular coincidence, Sam had been just describing it to me, as a bird not yet obtained, when, scarcely five minutes after, on going into the yard, he instantly came running in, saying, “Here is a Gaulin, Sir!” I snatched up my gun and ran out, and saw the snow-white bird sitting on a castor-oil tree, just over the brook. I crept softly towards it, but there being no concealment, it took alarm, and flew before I could approach, and I lost it among the woods. I determined, however, to seek it, and bade my lad follow me. We had noted the direction which it had taken, and pursued it towards a bend of the river. Before we had gone a hundred yards through the bush, Sam sung out; and there was the bird wheeling round in the air close to us, and in a moment it alighted on the topmost twig of a low tree. I fired, nervous with expectation, and the next instant the lovely bird was at my feet, with unruffled plumage, and but a single drop of blood oozing through the neck.

Some weeks after I saw another directing its flagging flight over the pasture; it rose gradually as it proceeded, till, when over the river, it began to wheel in large circles at a considerable height. After perhaps half-a-dozen gyrations, it flew off in nearly a straight line for a quarter of a mile or more; then circled in like manner; and again pursued the same course until I lost it from sight.

The Gaulins, or Egrets, are usually shy and vigilant birds, but not invariably. One day in May, as I was riding past Cave, my attention was called to one of this species, which was fishing in the shallows off the rivulet’s mouth, whither it had resorted for several days past. Its tameness was remarkable; for negro women were washing within a few yards, and it permitted me to ride towards it, and to approach almost close, without being alarmed, merely walking slowly away; till at last, when I was within three or four yards, it slowly rose to flight, but alighted not half a stone’s cast distant. I was pleased to watch it a while, observing the spotless whiteness of its plumage, and the gracefulness of its form and motions, as it arched its beautiful neck with the elegance of a swan.

In some situations this is not a scarce bird. Passing along by railway from Kingston to Spanish Town, I have observed in June, the white forms of many Gaulins studding the verdant meadows called the Ferry marshes, taking their morning meal in the shallows, and by the borders of Fresh River. Six or eight were within the space of a hundred yards, all feeding, yet not associating.

On a moringa-tree near the house at Robin’s River, the young friend, to whom I am indebted for several notes, used to see the nest of a White Gaulin, consisting of sticks and twigs, and about as large as a washing-basin; but being in an enclosure, he could not examine it. He used often, in passing, to see the bird sitting in it, and looking fearlessly at the passengers; for it is close to the high-road. He described its beautiful appearance, as it sat in its unspotted purity, with its long neck gracefully bent into sigmoid curves, as it gazed hither and thither.

This bird is closely allied to the following species, from which it is distinguished by the colour of the beak, lores, and feet, and by the ashy tips of the quills.

BLACK-LEGGED GAULIN.[99] Snowy Heron.—Wils.

Egretta candidissima.

Ardea candidissima, Gmel.—Aud. pl. 242.

Egretta candidissima, Bonap.

This is much more rare than the preceding species; but two specimens having fallen under my observation, both of which occurred in the middle of the winter. It is probably a migrant from the continent; the preceding, however, is a permanent resident with us.

From the rarity of its occurrence, I can add nothing to Wilson’s account of this species; except that in the stomach of one I found twenty-nine small silvery fishes, a species of Smaris.

BLUE GAULIN.[100] Blue Crane, or Heron.—Wils.

Egretta cœrulea.

Ardea cœrulea, Linn.—Aud. pl. 307.

Ardea cœrulescens, Lath.

Egretta cœrulea, Bonap.

The slender contour of this bird, its arching purple neck, its filamentous crown-plumes, and the long pointed scapulars arching down over its back, combine with its graceful motions and delicate hue, to give this bird an aspect of peculiar elegance. Less suspicious than most of its tribe, it will frequently allow the beholder to stand and admire it, without alarm, as it stands in some shallow stream, or secluded pool, intent on its occupation, while the glassy surface gives back its beautiful form, unbroken. Its motions are deliberate and slow while watching for prey; yet its seizure of prey is sudden, and as quick as the lightning-flash. It feeds principally on small crabs and prawns; which I have always found changed in appearance, by the process of digestion; the shell reddened and the flesh coagulated, as if by boiling. In one I have found a number of minute eel-like fishes, about an inch and a quarter long, probably the fry of a muræna; in another, insects. It is usually found excessively fat.

A specimen, shot from a tree, fell into rather deep water; and though one foot was disabled, it struck out vigorously with the other, and swam in an upright posture, with the head drawn back (not struggling,) several yards, before it was seized.

It is not common enough for me to determine whether it is migratory or not; I have obtained specimens on the 16th of September and on the 9th of April, and through the intervening winter.

RED-NECKED GAULIN.[101]

Egretta ruficollis.—Mihi.

I first met with this undescribed species in a little excursion up the beautiful Burnt Savanna River, on the 25th of November. The immense morass through which it flows, looking like a sea of rushes, relieved here and there by clumps of the tall and slender palmetto, affords shelter and sustenance to immense numbers of aquatic birds, in common with Black River, of which this is a main branch. Of this species of Gaulin, which is not remarkable for beauty, the only specimen, besides, that I met with, was shot by Sam, at Bluefields Creek, on the 7th of May. Both individuals had been feeding on a small species of Gobius, called mud-fish.

Though birds which feed exclusively on animal matters are ordinarily marked by the shortness of the intestinal canal, the tribe before us forms a remarkable exception to this rule; while the body of this bird was less than four inches in length, the intestine measured seventy-two inches. The neck is more than usually long in this species.

It is doubtless a permanent resident in the Island.

GREEN BITTERN.[102] Crab-catcher.

Herodias virescens.

Ardea virescens, Linn.—Aud. pl. 333.

Herodias virescens, Bonap.

This richly-coloured species is found wherever there is running water; and most abundantly, where in the plains the sluggish streams expand into broad reedy pools, or spongy marshes. Though perfectly solitary in its habits, one may frequently see in such situations a dozen within a quarter of a mile; and as we walk on, another and another long neck is suddenly reared above the grass, to gaze at the intruder and estimate the danger. Usually they are too wary to allow of a near approach; but this varies according to the locality; for while, in lonely places, as Paradise marshes, one may easily get within shot, in such streams as Bluefields and Robin’s River, where persons are continually passing, an approach within a long distance instantly puts the watchful bird upon the wing. In the former case it alights again immediately, but in the latter it does not stay its flight, until it gains the shelter of the woods, or a distant part of the stream. But in the morning, as soon as its appetite has been sated, its stomach gorged with prey, it often rests on some dry tree in the vicinity, whence it is less willing to fly, and may often be approached and shot with ease.

Near where the Sweet River roars and boils beneath the bridge, on the road from Bluefields to Savanna le Mar, there runs along by the side of the road, a narrow stream with grassy banks. As I was riding by, one day in July, I observed one of these Bitterns on the bank. It was not sufficiently alarmed to take flight as I passed, and I therefore drew up under the shade of a cocoa-nut palm on the other side to watch it. A few minutes it remained in suspicious stillness, eyeing me askant. At length with much deliberation it walked towards the edge, where it stood, intently watching the grass and short reeds that fringed the side. Presently it picked something from a stalk of grass, which it swallowed; it then waded slowly into the stream till the water reached above the tarsus, and there stood gazing motionless, except that now and then it suddenly altered the direction of its glance. A quick stroke of its powerful beak brought up something of considerable size, with which it walked ashore; it dropped its prey on the grass, and began to pick from it. Wishing to know what it was, I drove the bird away, but it was cunning enough to pick up its booty and carry it off, so that I was none the wiser. It was probably a root of some aquatic plant. The Bittern, however, soon returned, and taking its former place, resumed the occupation of picking insects from the grass, that grew in the stream. As it walked hither and thither, the beautiful chestnut neck was alternately thrown forward and bridled up, with a pretty affectation, and the short tail was depressed and agitated with a rapid perpendicular vibration. I would have observed it longer, but a rude group of negroes passing, it flew away over the adjacent logwood bushes.

The flight of all the Herons is flagging and laborious: I have been amused to see a Humming-bird chasing a Heron; the minuteness and arrowy swiftness of the one contrasting strangely with the expanse of wing and unwieldy motion of the other. The little aggressor appears to restrain his powers in order to annoy his adversary, dodging around him and pecking at him like one of the small frigates of Drake or Frobisher peppering one of the unwieldy galleons of the ill-fated Armada. Now and then, however, I have noticed this and other species of Heron intermit this laborious motion, and sail swiftly and gracefully on balanced wings, particularly when inclining their flight towards the earth.

When wounded, so as to be unable to fly, the Green Bittern seeks to escape by running, which it does swiftly, the neck projected horizontally, uttering a low cluck at intervals. Its ordinary call, often uttered from the morasses and mangrove swamps, is a loud scream, harsh and guttural.

In each specimen that I dissected, the stomach was enormous, occupying the whole length and breadth of the body; it usually is found distended with the larvæ of libelluladæ and dyticidæ, and with freshwater prawns. The latter lie in the stomach always in the same way; viz. doubled up, the head and tail pointing forwards, the only way in which they could be swallowed with safety.

In all the Ardeadæ that I have examined, there are on the breast two masses of filamentous down, commonly of a pale buff hue, lying just over the furcula; beneath which, attached to the inner surface of the skin, are two flat glandular bodies of singular appearance. A similar tuft and structure are found just above the tail. With their object I am quite unacquainted.