120 



ORNITHOLOGIST 



[Yol. 14-No. 8 



The American Bittern, Botaurus len- 

 tiginosus (Montag). 



This bird of many names is well known to 

 all collectors in the state. It is to be doubted 

 if anyone interested in ornithology within 

 our borders is unacquainted with this un- 

 couth species, unless he lives in a high and 

 dry locality. There are some quarters where 

 the Thunder Pumper, Indian Hen, Plum Pud- 

 den, Stake Driver or Bog Trotter is not to be 

 found on account of the nature of the surface 

 of the land. There are many square miles of 

 pine land wheie they are never seen, but this 

 depends more on the lack of marshy tracts 

 than on the presence of standing pine, as 

 is plaiidy proven by the appearance of these 

 singular birds in small swamp holes in the 

 vast forests of pines found in our state. 



The Indian Hen arrives certain seasons be- 

 fore the middle of March, but as a rule is not 

 found before late in March or early April, 

 and is occasionally not seen before April 

 10th. 



The nesting does not engage the Plum Pud- 

 den's attention until late in April, although 

 the singular vocal expressions of tender re- 

 gard uttered by the male for his future part- 

 ner's edification are heard much earlier. These 

 notes are as remarkable for singularity as are the 

 peculiarities of movements made by the song- 

 ster, if I may so term him, while uttering the 

 odd noises. The notes are of three kinds, 

 two loud soiinding series of sounds, and one 

 low, guttural utterance, seldom heard unless 

 one is near the bird at the time of its issu- 

 ance. It has been the writer's privilege to 

 hear these low, guttural sounds but twice, 

 and the circumstances were such as to indi- 

 cate that they were the regular call notes. 

 The love song is singular in the extreme, and 

 when once heard is never to be forgotten. 

 It is performed and uttered, for the move- 

 ments in uttering the noises are as singular 

 as the notes, invariably when the bird is 

 standing in the marsh. The sounds so nearly re- 

 semble the words plum pudden that the bird 

 has received this name. These syllables are 

 i-epeated from four to eight times, generally 

 six or seven times. The accent is on pud^ the 

 final syllable den being less distinct than the 

 other. The sounds coming from the marsh 

 are mysterious, and seem almost unearthly. 

 Not like the notes of any other bird of Michi- 

 gan, they are easily learned, and once heard 

 ai'e never to be forgotton. The otlier name 



of Stake Driver is also earned for its peculiar, 

 well defined notes, ka whack, ka whack, uttered 

 like the others in a most methodical and appar- 

 ently strained manner. The bird, I believe 

 only the male, when uttering either of its pe- 

 culiar songs has a most remarkable series of 

 movements to go through, which are ludicrous 

 in the extreme to the observer, though seri- 

 ously, and I doubt not pompously, performed 

 by botauru.s in his efforts at propitiating his 

 loved one, or later, in acknowledging his suc- 

 cess as a benedictine boss of the marsh. 



As one is walking through the long dead 

 marsh grass near the edge of the lake the pe- 

 culiar sounds are heard apparently issuing 

 from beneath one's feet, and the stroller stops 

 and tries to locate the noise. The chances are 

 against discovery of the exact spot, but if the 

 bird is seen the pecidiar movements are 

 watched with interest. Either of the songs 

 are emitted with the same apparent diffi- 

 culty. 



The bird, stopping his wading about in 

 search of food and drawing himself up in 

 a bunch, begins a weird cry by stretching out 

 his neck in wave-like motions much remind- 

 ing the observer of the contortions gone 

 through with by a barn-yard fowl in its 

 efforts to swallow a Tid-bit too large for its 

 gullet. 



The nest of this species, of which I have 

 never foinid but one, is placed on an eleva- 

 tion in the marsh, and is generally surroimded 

 by water. It is composed of dry grass and 

 rushes, and is generally damp and soggy. 

 The eggs, four in number, are of a bright cof- 

 fee color, and of the size of a bantam's, or a 

 little larger. The young are at first covered 

 with down, and are most remarkable looking 

 creatures, with big heads and a coating of 

 yellowish or buff, flutty down. 



To me the Bittern's peculiar cry is most 

 pleasing, and heard as it usually is, out on 

 the marsh and in lonely haunts, the notes are 

 doubly pleasing from their weird associations. 

 I remember well the lines of Scott in his in- 

 imitable Lady of the Lake, where he refers to 

 this uncanny bird, 



"Well rest thee ; for the hittern's cry 

 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 



It may be that the agreeable study of this 

 pleasing poem when a child gave rise to 

 lasting associations and memories. I have 

 learned since that the Bittern of Scotland is, 

 however, entirely difterent from our appar- 

 ently stupid Indian Hen, but this cannot al- 

 ter my memorizing by rhyme, or change 



