The Yellow-Billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus ameHcanus) 



By T. Gilbert Pearson 



Length: 12^ inches. 



Range : Eastern and central United States from southern Canada to north- 

 ern Florida and Louisiana. 



One cloudy autumn afternoon while strolling along a woodland path I heard 

 a weird mournful voice plaintively calling for many minutes. The sound 

 seemed to come from a cluster of trees across the glen nearby. After a little 

 time I came up to the sorrowing creature and found it seated on the drooping 

 bough of an old gnarled oak. It Avas a Yellow-billed Cuckoo. 



Some of our birds had already departed for their winter visit to the tropics, 

 but the Cuckoo still tarried in the haunts of its summer home. It seemed to feel 

 the solitude of the autumn forest, and although its voice is seldom heard at this 

 time of year, it was now chanting its plaintive cry as if its heart was breaking 

 at the thought that summer was over. It was sitting crosswise on the limb and 

 was motionless except for a slight upward impulse of the body each time it called. 



As it did not see me at first, there was good opportunity to notice its appear- 

 ance. It was about the size of a Robin, but was more slender; its long tail was 

 over half the entire length of the bird. Its legs were short, and its small feet 

 grasped the limb on which it sat, with two toes extending outward in front and 

 two behind. The bird's back and wings were olive brown, and its underparts 

 were dull whitish. The outer tail feathers were black with white tips. Its bill, 

 which appeared to be nearly an inch long, was black above and yellow beneath. 



Soon the bird detected the presence of an intruder. For a few moments it 

 eyed me, as the Cuckoo will often do, in a dazed kind of way, all the time slowly 

 raising and lowering its long tail, then swiftly it flew and vanished through the 

 foliage. It could not have gone very far. for as I continued along the path, from 

 the distance there came to my ears the faint murmuring "cow, cow, cow" of the 

 sad, mysterious bird. 



The Cuckoo always leads a mournful, secluded life. If we chance to see 

 it at any time while it is with us, from May to October, it will most probably be 

 observed silently slipping from the cover of one tree or thicket to that of another, 

 generally alone, and frequently uttering the harsh guttural note from which it 

 has long since acquired the name "Rain Crow." I never have understood why 

 it should be called a Crow, however. Certainly it does not resemble the Crows 

 in our country either in voice, appearance or manner of life. 



The Cuckoo is often heard calling on cloudy days, or just before rains, and 

 for this reason it is usually accredited with the power of foretelling the coming 

 shower. It cannot sing; but it has some notes peculiarly its own which, once 

 heard, are not easily forgotten. "Tut-tut, tut-tut," it seems to say "cl-uck — cl-uck, 

 cow, cow, cow." 



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