170 BULLETIN 142, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



Spring. — The northward migration must start from Argentina 

 in February, for it reaches Texas and Louisiana early in March, and 

 I have seen it in Florida as early as March 14. On the other hand 

 it has been taken at Mendoza, Argentina, as late as March 26. The 

 main flight passes through the United States during March and 

 April, but I have seen it in Texas as late as May 17. During May 

 the migration is at its height in Canada and before the end of that 

 month it reaches its summer home. William Rowan tells me that 

 it is always very abundant in Alberta during May and that the 

 males come alone at first, then mixed flocks, and finally only females. 

 H. B. Conover writes to me that " these sandpipers seemed to arrive 

 at Point Dall (Alaska) all at once. Up to May 20 none had been 

 seen, but on the 21st they were found to be common all over the 

 tundra. Immediately on arrival the males started their booming 

 courtship." John Murdoch (1885) says that, at Point Barrow: 



They arrive about the end of May or early in June, and frequent the small 

 ponds and marshy portions of the tundra along the shore, sometimes asso- 

 ciated with other small waders, especially with the buff-breasted sandpipers 

 on the high banks of Nunava. Early in the season they are frequently in 

 large-sized flocks feeding together around and in the Eskimo village at Cape 

 Smythe, but later become thoroughly scattered all over the tundra. 



Courtship. — The wonderful and curious courtship of the pectoral 

 sandpiper has been well described by several writers. Dr. E. W. Nel- 

 son's (1887) pleasing and graphic account of it is well worth quoting 

 in full ; he writes : 



The night of May 24 I lay wrapped in my blanket, and from the raised flap 

 of the tent looked out over as dreary a cloud-covered landscape as can be 

 imagined. The silence was unbroken save by the tinkle and clinking of the 

 disintegrating ice in the river, and at intervals by the wild notes of some rest- 

 less loon, which arose in a hoarse reverberating cry and died away in a strange 

 gurgling sound. As my eyelids began to droop and the scene to become indis- 

 tinct, suddenly a low, hollow, booming note struck my ear and sent my thoughts 

 back to a spring morning in northern Illinois, and to the loud vibrating tones 

 of the prairie chickens. Again the sound arose nearer and more distinct, and 

 with an effort I brought myself back to the reality of my position and, resting 

 upon one elbow, listened. A few seconds passed and again arose the note ; 

 a moment later and, gun in hand, I stood outside the tent. The open flat 

 extended away on all sides, with apparently not a living creature near. Once 

 again the note was repeated close by, and a glance revealed its author. Stand- 

 ing in the thin grasses 10 or 15 yards from me, with its throat inflated until it 

 was as large as the rest of the bird, was a male A. maculata. The succeeding 

 days afforded opportunity to observe the bird as it uttered its singular notes 

 under a variety of situations and at various hours of the day or during the 

 light Arctic night. The note is deep, hollow, and resonant, but at the same 

 time liquid and musical, and may be represented by a repetition of the syllables 

 too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-u, too-^u. Before the bird utters 

 these notes it fills its esophagus with air to such an extent that the breast and 

 throat is inflated to twice or more its natural size, and the great air sac thus 

 formed gives the peculiar resonant quality to the note. The skin of the throat 



