312 BULLETIN 121, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM. 



Audubon (1840) gives the following graphic account of its fishing 

 prowess : 



Yonder, over the waves, leaps the brilliant dolphin, as he pursues the flying- 

 fishes, which he expects to seize the monjent they drop Into the water. The 

 frigate-bird, who has marked them, closes his wings, dives toward them, and 

 now ascending, holds one of the tiny things across his bill. Already fifty 

 yards above the sea, he spies a porpoise in full chase, launches toward the 

 spot, and in passing seizes the mullet that had escaped from its dreaded foe; 

 but now, having obtained a fish too large for his gullet, he rises, munching it 

 all the while, as if bound for the skies. Three or four of his own tribe have 

 watched him and observed his success. They shoot toward him on broadly 

 extended pinions, rise in wide circles, smoothly, yet as swiftly as himself. 

 They are now all at the same height, and each as it overtakes him, lashes him 

 with its wings, and tugs at his prey. See ! one has fairly robbed him, but 

 before he can secure the contested fish it drops. One of the other birds has 

 caught it, but he is pursued by all. From bill to bill, and through the air, 

 rapidly falls the fish, until it drops quite dead on the Avaters, and sinks into 

 the deep. Whatever disappointment the hungry birds feel, they seem to deserve 

 it all. 



Behavior. — The flight of the man-o'-war-bircl is an inspiration; 

 the admiring observer is spellbound with wonder as he beholds it 

 and longs for the eloquence to describe it; but words are powerless 

 to convey the impression that it creates. It is the most marvelous 

 and most perfect flying machine that has ever been produced, with 

 7 or 8 feet of alar expanse, supporting a 4-pound body, steered by a 

 long scissor-like tail. It is not to be wondered at that such an aero- 

 plane can float indefinitely in the lightest breeze. I shall never 

 forget an exhibition I once saw among the Florida keys. We had 

 anchored for the night near a small mangrove key, a famous roost- 

 ing place for this species, and saw that it was black with hundreds 

 of the birds sitting on the low trees. As we rowed toward it they 

 all arose into the air and hung over it in a dense cloud, as thick as a 

 swarm of insects. Gradually they spread out, floating without the 

 slightest effort on motionless wings, separating into three great 

 flocks and then into five flocks. By counting and carefully esti- 

 mating the flocks, we concluded that there were between 1,000 and 

 1,200 birds in all. For over an hour we watched them as they 

 floated out over us in a leisurely, dignified manner and slowly drifted 

 away. At times they seemed to be almost stationary and never 

 once did we detect a flap of the long, half-flexed wings, though it 

 was almost calm. Like painted birds upon a painted sky they faded 

 into the shadows of the night. 



The active flight of the frigate-bird and its control of its powers 

 is fully as wonderful as its passive sailings. While floating high 

 in the air, almost out of sight, its keen eye detects some morsel of 

 food in the water below it; with wings half closed it shoots down- 

 ward like a meteor, and so accurately does it gauge its speed and 



