Nests and Eggs of Birds of The United States

A remarkable peculiarity of this species whilst feeding deserves a passing notice in this connection. We allude to its habit of opening and closing the wings, and of expanding the feathers of the tail. Whether these movements are done for show or not, we are unable to say. They cannot be considered as designed solely for attracting the sexes to each other, which would doubtless be the correct interpretation if they were practised only during the season of mating. But as they are to be noticed throughout the entire stay of these birds, and always while engaged in feeding, it seems to us that they are expressive of delight and satisfaction. The capture of an insect evokes them, and from being habitual, it is no more than natural to suppose that the sight of a loved one – the partner of former joys and sorrows – would produce feelings akin, but stronger, and lead to similar manifestations. Unlike what is customary among birds, the female Redstart rivals the male in powers of song.

Never gregarious, for three weeks and more from the time of arrival the sexes lead solitary lives, and spend the time in feeding. At first their foraging is confined to high, open woods, but as the days flit by, they become more friendly and visit orchards and lawns, or glean among the trees that line our roads and lanes. They now become quite tame, and may be approached with comparative ease. In the procurement of food they are as often found upon the upper branches of trees as upon the lower, and do not deem themselves too proud to come down to lower growths, or betake themselves to the ground. As the males are the first to show themselves, it is to be presumed that they are the earliest to migrate. They seem to be several days in advance of the females. But perhaps the latter are more modest and retired, and do not emerge from their sylvan quarters as soon as their lords, which would account for their apparent delay. But whether or not they arrive together, it is evident that they pay little regard to each other for a fortnight, and only care for selfish gratification.

This condition of things continues until the last of May or the beginning of June, when the males seek out their partners, and prepare for the work which has called them through many a weary league of country. From the time of mutual recognition until the construction of the nest, affairs progress with wonderful rapidity. The selection of a building-spot, as also does the labor of building, depends upon the female. She is rather whimsical, and, above all, hard to please. The male occasionally assists, but things often go wrong, and rather than provoke a tempest, he takes a position where he can inspect the work as it progresses under the critical eye, and by the skilful manipulations of his steady, industrious and persevering housewife. While for these long, weary days she is thus occupied with the structure, her partner sweetens the ennui of her life by an agreeable ditty and words of endearment. As if to show his appreciation of her exertions, he now and then rewards her with one of his choicest captures.

Dense woods with plenty of underbrush are generally chosen when nesting. Occasionally, through some freak of the builders, the domicile is placed contiguous to human habitations. Almost any small tree or bush answers for its support. A crotch receives the fabric and renders it secure from violent storms of wind. Upon first examination it seems to be the counterpart of the home of the Summer Yellow-Bird, but this impression is soon abandoned when a comparison is instituted. A typical structure before us, which was built upon a forked branch of the wild plum, at a height of ten feet from the ground, is composed of the fibres of the wild flax, with a few spiders' webs, on the outside, and is lined with a profusion of horse-hairs. In diameter it measures two and three-fourths inches, and three in height. The width of the cavity is two inches, and the depth one and five-eighths. The whole affair is beautifully hemispherical, and neatly and compactly woven.

In the construction of the nest there is visible a marked uniformity in character, although the materials vary with the localities. Shreds of savin-bark, bits of wool, strips of bark, thistle-down, bits of paper, and other fragments are sometimes utilized in the periphery, while vegetable fibres, pine leaves, dry grasses and wool of plants are made to do good service in adding a warm and comfortable lining. From what we read it seems that the Redstart does not always build directly upon a branch, but is occasionally prone to make use of the nest of some other species as a foundation. A case is cited by Dr. Breaver where the Redstarts had placed their nest upon a Blue-eyed Warbler's, which had either been deserted, or from which the rightful owners had been expelled. The base of this fabric was composed of brownish wool plucked from fern leaves, with a commingling of herbaceous stems and leaves. Within this wonderfully unique structure was placed an entirely distinct nest, firmly and elaborately interwoven of pine needles, stems of grasses and long, slender ribands of bark.

Oviposition is closely attendant upon nest-completion, and proceeds at the rate of one egg daily, until the entire set is laid. Incubation immediately follows, and is the exclusive duty of the female for eleven days. While this is going on, the male bird busies himself with the food-matters? and is a very thoughtful and attentive provider. When not employed in this business, he shows his regard and solicitude by remaining at home. In times of danger he never shirks his responsibility, but comes boldly to the front, and by his clamors and menacing gestures endeavors to frighten the intruder away. Bold and courageous he will often dart with wide-open jaws into the face of the person who dares to disturb his nest or mate. So strongly attached to her nest, on the other hand, is the ladybird, that she will permit a near approach thereto before abandoning it. In times of assault she is less demonstrative, and when her nest is despoiled before her eyes, expresses but a moderate show of distress. But while the paternal head of the household can be so deeply concerned for the welfare of his family, and the preservation of his home, it is a noteworthy fact that even while bewailing her misfortunes in the most agonizing manner possible, the mother-bird is often known to stop in the midst of her lamentations to seize a passing insect.

The young are objects of the ten derest solicitude, both parents laboring with unremitting zeal in providing them with plenty of suitable nourishment. Young caterpillars and the larvæ of various other insects which the parents often procure at great distances, are fed to them when quite young, but later on they are subsisted upon plant lice, small spiders and mature diptera and ants. Late in the season both young and old devour great quantities of cedar berries, and the seeds of the commoner grasses. When twelve days old the young leave the nest for the first time, but are not prepared to quit entirely until a week older. They now in company with their parents repair to moist rather than dry thickets, because of the greater abundance of insects to be found in such places, and here they remain until the last of September, when they retire south to winter in Guatemala, and other parts of Central America, as well as in the West Indies and Peru.

About the time of departure, the young male resembles in plumage the mother, but differs in having the upper tail-coverts and tail a deep black color, instead of having the former olive and the latter dusky. In addition the dorsal region is more greenish-olive, and the abdomen and crissum of a purer white. He is slow in acquiring the perfect adult plumage, and does not attain to it until his third year. At or about this time his predominant color is black. This is variegated by the white abdomen and under tail-coverts, and by a central band on the breast of the same color, and still further by the bases of all the quills (excepting the inner and outer proximal halves of all the tail-feathers but the middle,) a patch on each side of the breast, and the axillary region, being of an orange-red hue, which shades to a vermilion on the breast. The female has the black replaced by olive-green above, and brownish-white below. Yellow takes the place of orange, and ash that of black upon the head. There is also a grayish-white line and ring around the eye. Their length is five and a quarter inches, wing two and a half, and tail two and nine-twentieths.

The eggs of the Redstart are four in number, and bear some resemblance to those of the common Blue-eyed Yellow Warbler. Their groundcolor is a grayish-white, and this is quite thickly sprinkled all over, but more especially about the larger extremity, with shades of brown and black. They vary in length from .54 to .67 of an inch, and in breadth from .44 to .53. Specimens from widely separated localities, when compared with others from the Middle Atlantic States, show the same amount of variation in size and general appearance. In Eastern Pennsylvania the species is single-brooded, and the same may be said of other sections of the country which the birds frequent.

Plate XXXIII. – SCOPS ASIO, (Linn.) Bonaparte. – Mottled Owl

Throughout the temperate regions of North America few species among our nocturnal birds of prey have a wider distribution. In New England, and the Middle, Southern and Western sections of our country, it is more or less common, but on the Pacific as far north as Sitka, it gives place to a different and well-marked variety, one whose habits are not materially dissimilar to our Eastern form. McIlwraith gives it as a resident in portions of Canada, near Hamilton and around Montreal, but further north, if it appears at all, it is notably scarce. In the Arctic regions it is evidently unknown, if the failures on the part of Richardson and others to mention it in their travels afford any basis of judgment. Towards the extreme limits of its range there is reason to believe that it prevails in smaller numbers than elsewhere. In Pennsylvania and New Jersey, where its habits have been especially studied by the author, it is our most abundant species.

It courts rather than shuns human society. In some rural districts this familiarity is more manifest than in others, particularly where unduly harassed by boys and equally offensive birds. The immense good which these Owls accomplish in the destruction of vermin should command for them proper respect, but the most cruel persecutions are the only reward which they receive. The evil which some of their less scrupulous and larger brethren commit, reflects upon them, and they, through ignorance and superstition, are made the scape-goats for a multiplicity of sins. But fortunately there are localities where they are held in high estimation by persons of sense and education, and amply recompensed. Here they become remarkably unsuspicious, nesting and roosting in hollow trees, and even venturing into barns and out-buildings to spend the night.

More eminently nocturnal than any of its kind, it does not emerge from its darksome quarters until the day has expired, and gloomy night has assumed the rod of empire. In the uncertain twilight a few individuals, pressed by hunger, may often be seen abroad, but it is not until every trace of day has been obliterated that we find the majority on the wing, in noiseless pursuit of game. When aroused during the daytime its movements are somewhat dubious, and it acts very much like a child who has been awakened from a sound sleep in the midst of a brilliantly-lighted room. In cloudy weather less difficulty is experienced, and its actions are freer. Young birds seem to be better adapted to sunlight than their parents. May it not be that the constant habit of sleeping during the day, consequent upon a night's carousal, has so weakened the visual organs as to render them ill-fitted for day-toil? Animals, accustomed to diurnal occupations, suffer considerable inconvenience for a while when compelled to work at night. A return to day-labor is attended, though perhaps in a less degree, by the same discomfort. The irides undoubtedly habituate themselves to a reversal of habit. It is a notorious fact that the young of the Great-horned Owl can endure the intense light of the sun almost equally with the Eagle, although being mainly nocturnal in habits. It is brought about by the voluntary, rather than the automatic, movements of the iris. This fact associated with the already mentioned circumstance in the history of the present species, strongly favors the hypothesis that all our Owls can in time adapt themselves to a change of habit pari passu with visual modification, as instanced in the case of the Day Owl.

Appetitive gratification is the sole engrossing thought of these birds outside of the mating season. While they devote much of their time veering through the atmosphere in quest of insects which contribute largely to their diet, still they do not deem themselves too aerial to descend to the earth at times when some purpose is to be subserved. They are fond of low meadows, and even premises adjoining barns, barracks, etc., where they make terrible onslaughts upon the small quadrupeds which infest such places. Sailing above the tall grasses, the smallest creature is readily descried, and almost in the twinkling of an eye is captured and borne away in the vice-like bill, or firm grasp of the more powerful claws. When pressed for food they often conceal themselves behind tufts of grasses, and await the appearance of their quarry, or even visit our smaller birds upon their perches.

The nightly rampage of the Mottled Owl is always heralded by a peculiar plaintive cry which strongly resembles the whinings of young puppies. It alternates from high to low, and is occasionally varied by deep guttural trills. From dusk until the clock has ushered in the wee hours of the morning the ear of night is startled by these lugubrious utterances. By some they are supposed to be intended as a summons from the female to her partner, and vice versa. As they are chiefly heard while in pursuit of prey, it is more than probable that they are designed to startle small birds from their coverts, and thus insure their easy capture. The representation of the notes may be quite accurately expressed by wha-a-a-a-a.

Life without variety soon becomes monotonous, and in the case of the human animal often leads to unpleasant results. With birds the dreary autumnal and wintry days, which are spent in sleep and in contriving means for obtaining a subsistence, are no longer a source of enjoyable pleasure when spring returns, and we discover when the proper time arrives that everywhere there exists a feeling to throw off the shackles of such an existence, and to take on newer relationships. This varies with the character of the weather. During favorable seasons the time is earlier, but when the advancing steps of milder days are retarded by frosts and snows, there is sometimes a delay of a fortnight. Not so with the Mottled Owls. The period of mating with them usually begins quite early, on or about the fifteenth of March in extreme southern latitudes, but as late as the tenth of April in cooler northern sections. In the Middle Atlantic States the time varies from the twentieth of March to about the fifth of the succeeding month. It is then that the sexes manifest more than the usual affection for each other. Their courtship is brief, and business is entered into without the display of any of those amusing antics which pre-eminently mark the smaller oscines. The males, according to our experience, seem to select the same partners on each recurrence of the breeding-time, where not debarred by various fortuitous circumstances. As a proof of this position, we might instance a case. In the vicinity of Philadelphia a pair of birds once laid claim to a particular tree on the premises of a kind-hearted gentleman, who would not suffer them to be disturbed. The breeding-season being over, the female retained possession of the cavity which she had used while rearing her young, and the male sought shelter in the same clump of trees, but in a different hollow. As these were the only birds in that locality, and were observed to occupy the same spot for two successive years, there can be no reason to dispute the above question. By the law of analogy, we presume that others do likewise.

Pairing having been solemnized, the sexes now set to work to re-furnish their domicile. In the case of young birds some time is spent in looking up a suitable hollow of requisite capacity. When preference is shown for an orchard, the apple-tree is selected, especially if it is in close proximity to a farmyard. In other situations, almost any of the species of oaks is made to do good service. The hole generally chosen is one which had been previously wrought by the Golden-shafted Woodpecker at considerable pains. Where this does not exist, a decayed stump is rendered available. The cavity is placed at varying heights, which seem dependent upon the character of the neighborhood. In wooded regions nests are placed at elevations of forty feet and upwards, while in localities contiguous to human habitations, a greater height than ten feet is scarcely reached, and some are never placed more than five or six feet from the ground. The lining of the cavity consists of a few dry leaves and grasses, with an upper stratum of feathers. These are mostly placed in the bottom, and do not extend for any great distance along the peripheral walls. In some instances the materials constituting their bed are thrown promiscuously into the hollow.

Having provided herself with comfortable quarters, the female commences to deposit her eggs, one a day, until the number is reached which is to constitute her charge. Incubation at once ensues, and continues for fifteen days. This is chiefly the labor of the female, although the male sometimes relieves her when she is in quest of food. When with eggs or young the approach of an enemy is greeted with a sort of hissing sound, and the protrusion of the hand into the nest meets with a sharp reception. If surprised in the daytime, these birds are such stupid, sleepy creatures that your approach is scarcely noticed. A sort of vacant stare, with occasional rapid blinkings, save when partially aroused to consciousness by a sudden thrust with the finger, is the only recognition which they give. But when disturbed with such rudeness they open wide the eyes in a staring manner, throw back the head, and utter a loud hiss of indignation or disgust, which is quickly followed by the elevation and protrusion of the claws of the right foot. All this is of momentary duration, and is quickly succeeded by the same stolid indifference as manifested before.

The young are vigorous feeders, and tax the time and energies of the parents to the utmost in the procurement of suitable nourishment. All night long the latter are constantly on the go, both birds being frequently absent together upon this important mission. Small quadrupeds, birds, lizards and insects are a few of the articles which contribute to their fare. At first these are torn into pieces by the parents, and fed to them, but as they increase in age, the entire animal is deposited in the burrow. Mr. Nuttall cites a case where a full supply of Bluebirds, Blackbirds, and Sparrows was thrown into the nest – a striking illustration of the provident habits of the parents. When five weeks old the young leave the nest and receive their rations while clinging to the tree-branches. A fortnight later they are able to hunt for themselves, but at the dawn of morning suspend operations and quietly retire to their homes. In the course of events they are obliged to forsake the family-roof, and to seek quarters in hollow trees, the gloomy recesses of dense forests, or the dark corners of out-buildings. The characteristic plumages of the young, which they attain in about four months from the time of hatching, vary, and are entirely independent of age, sex; or season, being purely individual. There can be no doubt about this statement, since in the same nest there may often be observed both gray and red young ones, while their progenitors may either be both red or both gray, the male red and the female gray, or the reverse. The peculiar notes of the adults are assumed at the same time. But the claws have scarcely acquired their normal development until nearly two months more have been added to their age. In the drawing the rufescent and normal plumages of the adults are so well delineated that no description seems necessary. Specimens from different localities show marked variations in dimensions, but those from which the drawings were made, have a length of nine and a half inches, with wing six and seven-tenths, and tail three and one-half. Young of the normal dress have the secondaries, primary and tail as in the adult, but the latter more mottled, and the bands confused. The rest of the plumage is grayish-white, and marked with numerous transverse dusky-brown bars. The eyebrows and lines are a dull white, with scarce a variegation, and the facial circle obsolete. In the other plumage the wings and tail are as in the adult birds. Upon the head and body the markings are as in the young gray bird, but the white bars are more reddish, and the darker ones a more decided brown.

The eggs of this species are from five to six in number, almost spherical, and of a pure white color. Specimens from different localities offer marked variations in size. Those from Florida are smaller than more northern specimens, and measure 1.31 by 1.15 inches. Xew England eggs average 1.49 by 1.31, and others from Pennsylvania and New Jersey 1.35 inches in length, and 1.18 in width. On comparison with some from Michigan and Iowa we can find but slight differences.

Plate XXXIV. – RALLUS VIRGINIANUS, Linn. – Virginia Rail

Of its delightful winter quarters in the South, and the tropical climes of Guatemala and Cuba with their strange and varied forms of life, this handsome little species takes its adieu when the climate in our northern States warrants such a procedure, and spreads itself across the continent to and slightly beyond our northernmost borders. With the first slight frosts of November it takes its departure, to renew our acquaintance again when the delicate-footed May has returned to beautify the earth. These autumnal migrations are often performed during calm, clear nights, when their cries can be distinctly heard overhead. Persons, while "bobbing" for eels at night, have often been startled from their contemplations by the alighting of Rails in the water close-by, and the din produced as they paddle their way into the adjoining weeds. Their departure is seemingly more sudden than their advent, their appearance in diverse latitudes happening at regular intervals. From their feebleness of wing, it might be conjectured that flight is slow and labored, but experience teaches that it is accomplished with comparative ease and freedom, even in the face of a very strong wind. But these birds are best seen in the exercise of their cursorial powers, which the perfect development of their legs and feet, and the compressed, attenuated shape of the body are admirably adapted to promote. Even the bill, with its sharpened outline, which is wisely formed to cut the opposing air, lends its aid in facilitating advancement.

Along the borders of salt marshes, but generally in fresh-water, it may be fouud upon its arrival. In such places it is a busy gleaner, feeding less upon vegetable, but more upon animal, diet than any of its illustrious congeners. Its bill of fare consists of worms, the larvae of insects, and small shell-fish, which it extracts from the mud, a feat which it most successfully and adroitly accomplishes by means of its great length of bill. This strong partiality to animal diet tends to render its flesh less savory than that of the Carolina Rail whose food is principally the nutritious seeds of various kinds of grasses. In the dexterity with which it conceals itself among the reeds and sedges of its favorite haunts when hunted, and its seeming aversion to flight, it is the exact counterpart of the latter species. In fact there are few traits of character which are not common to them both. When distance intervenes between the observer and either species, it requires considerable judgment to make the necessary discrimination. A little experience, however, soon enables the working naturalist to do so without much difficulty.