316 WHITE-HEADED DOVE. 



skimming along the surface of the waters, flying with great rapidity, much 

 in the manner of the common house species, but not near each other like the 

 Passenger Pigeon. On nearing the land, they rose to the height of about a 

 hundred yards, surveyed the country in large circles, then with less velocity 

 gradually descended, and alighted in the thickest parts of the mangroves and 

 other low trees. None of them could be easily seen in those dark retreats, 

 and we were obliged to force them out, in order to shoot them, which we 

 did at this time on the wing. 



In creeping among the bushes to obtain a view of them whilst alighted, I 

 observed that the more I advanced, the more they retired from me. This 

 they did by alighting on the ground from the trees, among which they could 

 not well make way on wing, although they could get on with much ease 

 below, running off and hiding at every convenient spot that occurred. These 

 manoeuvres lasted only a few days, after which I could see them perched on 

 the tops of the trees, giving a preference perhaps to dry branches, but not a 

 marked one, as some other species are wont to do. 



They are at all times extremely shy and wary, more so in fact than any 

 species with which I am acquainted. The sight of a man is to them insup- 

 portable, perhaps on account of the continued war waged against them, their 

 flesh being juicy, well flavoured, and generally tender, even in old birds. 

 Never could I get near one of them so long as it observed me. Indeed, the 

 moment they perceive a man, off they go, starting swiftly with a few smart 

 raps of the wings, and realighting in a close covert for awhile, or frequently 

 flying to another key, from which they are sure to return to that left by 

 them, should you pursue them. It is thus a most toilsome task to procure 

 specimens of these birds. 



Their shyness is but partially given up even during their love season, or 

 while sitting on their eggs, for the moment they see you they get off slyly 

 from the nest, walk on the branches for some distance, and take to wing 

 without any noise, flying low along the edge of the mangroves, into which 

 they throw themselves as soon as a place of safety offers itself, seldom on 

 such occasions flying off to other keys. Their return to the nest is not 

 immediate, the heat of these latitudes not requiring the same care in incuba- 

 tion as the comparative cold of more northern regions. I have waited their 

 return sometimes as much as half an hour, without success. 



By the first of May, the young squabs are nearly able to fly, and it is at 

 this period that the greatest havoc is made among them. The fishermen and 

 the wreckers visit the keys principally resorted to by this species, rifle all 

 the nests they can find, and sometimes also shoot the old birds. 



The key on which I first saw this bird, lies about twenty-five miles south 

 of Indian Key, and is named Bahia-honda Duck Key. The farther south 



