268 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



TApril 30, 1885. 



smaller species of beetles, more especially upon members of 

 tbe family Stapliylinida>, of the smaller kinds of -which I have 

 found the crop stuffed full. Larvae of dipterous insects are 

 alsofed upon, and insects of other orders. In spring, before 

 the insects have emerged in any numbers, seeds found on the 

 ground are eaten by this species. Spiders form no inconsid- 

 erable part of the winter -wren's fare, as in fact is the case 

 with all of the wrens which I have studied. The house and 

 winter wren both feed largely on small caterpillars, princi- 

 pally of the family Geometridm. 



The long-billed and shortbilled wrens feed on flying insects, 

 which they catch with great perseverance and cunning ; but 

 their food also consists of larva2 of insects of the various 

 orders. The longbill gives great preference to the small 

 larva? and nymphaa of the order Jfcuraptera, and procures 

 them by dipping his bill just beneath the water, when they 

 are coming to the surface to emerge or are swimming in the 

 murky pools. 



The following dimensions are taken from specimens of 

 Michigan wrens in my collection : 



Name. 



Troglodytes 



aedon _ . 



Anorthura trog- 



lod.hy emalts.. 

 Telmatodytes 



palus>ris 



Cisto.horusstel- 



laris, . . . 



4 n 



3.91 



4.33 



i as 



3,19 



1.97 



U72 



^ 



6. 

 5. 



fl 41 

 B 18 



_ < 



> -1 5 -1 



: cr - 2 



H 2.2 



1.73 6. 



1.98 



30. Anthvs hidovkianus (G-m.) Licht. — American titlark. 



A common spring and fall migrant; rather irregular in its 

 appearance both spring and autumn. The birds always ap- 

 pear in flocks, generally of from twenty to thirty. A small 

 flock of Ave to ten is occasionally seen, and I have seen hun- 

 dreds in a flock. The species usually appears in late April 

 and remains with us for a week or more. About the middle 

 of September the flocks reappear, and a great many are seen 

 within the next four weeks. I have observed them in num- 

 bers as late as Oct. 33. The birds, although gregarious, kf ep 

 well apart both iu flying and when feeding, and it is a diffi- 

 cult matter to secure more than one at a shot, according to 

 my experience. 



The species is recorded from the northern peninsula, and 

 is known throughout the State by collectors generally. It 

 was known here in 1S89, and is embraced in all catalogues 

 of any importance. The titlark with us has no song, and a 

 single chiip is the only call note I have heard. It is occa- 

 sionally repeated, so that it sounds somewhat like a short 

 chatter, but does not approach to a song. The birds are 

 quite similar in many respects to the horned lark (E. alpes- 

 iris), both in manner of flight, peculiarity of perching on 

 fences, and feeding in the highways. 



J. B. Steere, in a catalogue entitled "Migration of Michigan 

 Birds," 1880, embraces this species as a summer resident, and 

 says it breeds. He, however, places an interrogation point 

 after the "breeds," showing the uncertainty of the informa- 

 tion on which he founded' the note. The species may re- 

 main in the extreme northern part of the State during sum- 

 mer, but it is to be doubted. 



Those specimens examined by me contained seeds only in 

 their crops, but during the summer months I have no doubt 

 but that the species feeds largely on insects. As will be 

 observed in the sketch of thisbird, as with others, I have 

 only given a short history, from the fact that the bird does 

 not nest with us, while iu cases of our summer residents I 

 have devoted more space. 



THE WOODCOCK'S SONG. 



TTJST at twilight one evening last week, while passing 

 tl through Briggs avenue, on my way from the station at 

 Williamsbridge to my home at East Chester, a clear sharp 

 sound broke upon the evening air, resembling, as nearly as I 

 can describe it, the word "pake." It brought me to a halt on 

 the instant. More than forty years ago I first heard this 

 sound, and my grandfather, a keen old sportsman, taught 

 me its meaning; it was the love call of the male woodcock. 

 Several times the call was repeated, and then came that 

 swift whistling of wings, which has so often in the cover 

 sent my gun flying to my shoulder. A dark object, outlined 

 for an Instant against the fading light still lingering in the 

 western sky, disappeared in the deepening gloom. Then high 

 up in the air began the song of the bird, soft low notes at 

 first, gradually increasing in volume as he rose in the air 

 apparently in circles, until with a louder, wilder burst of 

 melody the song abruptly ceased and he darted silently to 

 the ground very near the spot from which he arose and then 

 rang out the sharp "pake" described above. 



I had been told when a boy that this cry, which can be 

 heard a quarter of a mile or more under favorable circum- 

 stances, was always preceded by a low, guttural sound re- 

 sembling the words "coo, ah," which could be heard but a 

 few feet. "Wishing to assure myself of the fact— if fact_ it 

 was — I waited until he rose again, which he did after an in- 

 terval of two or three minutes, when I gained a position 

 nearer the spot from which he arose ; then keeping perfectly 

 quiet a moment after the song had ceased in the air, I saw 

 him come to the ground swiftly but silently. I was still 

 twenty-five or thirty yards from him and uuable to hear the 

 sound for which I was listening. Keeping my position until 

 he had uttered the louder cry several times, he again went 

 up in the air, when I moved forward, and lying at full 

 length upon the ground awaited his return. 1 knew he 

 would re-alight within a second after the song ceased in the 

 air, but he came down behind me, and so silently, that the 

 first intimation I had of his presence was hearing the gut- 

 tural sound I have mentioned, fifteen or twenty feet from 

 me. After this had been repeated several times the louder 

 cry was heard. Listening until the two sounds had been re- 

 peated several times, I made a slight movement and he flew 

 away at once and 1 heard him no more. 



Gifted writers have immortalized both in prose and verse 

 the songs of the nightingale, the skylark and many other 

 feathered songsters, but to me the love song of the wood- 

 cock surpasses them all. It brings to mind with pleasure 

 thoughts of those with whom I have for years as the open- 

 ing seasons came round, hunted this most splendid of all 

 gamebirds.and with whom, God willing, I trust to have many 

 pleasant seasons again. It brings to mind with sadness 

 thoughts of other friends who have "joined the great major- 

 ity" and will never again press the trigger or traverse with 



me the covers. It assures me, too, that although the early 

 extinction of this noble bird has been of late often prophe- 

 sied, that here almost within the shadow of the great metrop- 

 olis, when the proper season arrives, my favorite covers on 

 which I first commenced to shoot, more than thirty years 

 ago, and which have never failed me, will not be entirely 

 deserted. 



To sucb of the New York city sportsmen as only know 

 the woodcock as an eagerly sought and much- prized addi- 

 tion to his bag in the field, and who may perhaps never 

 have heard them in the breeding season, I would say: Take 

 a train at Forty second street for Wiliiamsbridge, arriving 

 there about sundown. Stroll leisurely across tbe Bronx 

 and by Jerome post-office into Briggs avenue. A little over 

 half a mile will take him to a spot"fbrmerly known to lovers 

 of woodcock shooting as the " Fishhawk." Here let him 

 sit down, and when the stars begin to come out he will hear 

 on any pleasant evening during the breeding season all I 

 have described. He can return to the city in time to hear 

 some fashionable footlight favorite trill her sweetest lay, 

 but if he is a true devoted follower of Nimrod he will hear 

 nothing that will please him as well as the love song of that 

 russet denizen of the bosky dell, Philohela minor. 



J. H. D. 



East Chester, N. Y. 



ZOOLOGICAL NOMENCLATURE. 



THE committee of the American Ornithologists' Union 

 which has charge of the classification and nomencla- 

 ture of North American birds has practically completed its 

 labors, and handed in its final report to the Council, by 

 whose authority they are empowered to print the results of 

 their work at the earliest time possible. The report includes 

 the completed new code of nomenclature, with special ref- 

 erence to ornithology, but equally applicable to zoology at 

 large. This is believed to be a positive advance upon pre- 

 vious codes, such as that of the British Association of 1865. 

 The report includes also the new check list of North Amer- 

 ican birds, embodying the views of the committee, reached 

 after most patient and painstaking investigation, carried on 

 ever since the founding of the Union. This work has been 

 eagerly looked for, and will prove a boon to all who are 

 interested in American ornithology, if it shall succeed in fix- 

 ing at last the names of all our birds, which have been of 

 late yeaxs so unsettled. 



It is hoped and believed that the volume will be ready 

 before the meeting of the Union next autumn. 



THE CRANE'S BACK. 



AN interesting circumstance occurred near this place last 

 season, corroborating the belief noted some time ago 

 by Dr. J. C. Merrill iu Forest and Stream that the sand- 

 hill crane {Grus canadensis) carries birds upon its back 

 during their migrations. 



On Eraser Biver, at a place called Port Hammond, a sta- 

 tion on the Canadian Pacific Railway, cranes have been in 

 the habit of resorting to the railroad track to obtain a supply 

 of gravel during the period of incubation. In this part of 

 the world these birds make their nests in boggy or low lands, 

 and a marsh of this description opposite and across the 

 river from Port Hammond affords numbers of cranes an 

 opportunity for then breeding necessities. Their nests are 

 made upon the ground, while those of the heron tribe (often 

 improperly called cranes) are built in high trees, and the lat- 

 ter, at this particular season of the year, live in communities 

 improperly called "craneries." 



One morning, a gentleman living at that place surprised a 

 party of three cranes picking up the gravel on the railway 

 grade. There were two old and one young one. The olu 

 ones immediately took wing and flew away. The young 

 one, being unable to flj r , was soon captured and placed in a 

 box. It was so young that it had developed no feathers, 

 was wholly covered with down, and was in height about 

 that of a common hen. The parent birds returned in a short 

 time, and by their cries showed their distress, as is usual in 

 like cases of other birds. The young one fed greedily upon 

 berries which were furnished it, nor was it deserted by the 

 old ones, who lingered about the place until its death, which 

 took place in a few days, whether from an improper diet or 

 pining away, could not be determined. 



Fraser River at this point is over half a mile wide, and the 

 proof of their nest being upon the other side was this, that in 

 coming to Port Hammond, or going therefrom, they always 

 crossed the river presumably to visit the remaining young 

 one that may fairly be supposed to have been at home on the 

 morning spoken of. 



The fact of the young bird not being able to fly, coupled 

 with the fact that 'it could not walk across the river, may, I 

 think, be taken as conclusive of its having been carried 

 across by one of its parents. J. C. Hughes. 



New Westminstee, British Columbia, April 6, 1885. 



Drumming op the Ruffed Grouse.— A good deal has 

 been written on this subject, and many opinions expressed 

 as to how the noise is made. Three cock birds were brought 

 to me to skin this spring, by parties who had shot them 

 almost in the act of drumming. On removing the skin, I 

 noticed a thin membrane extending from the under jaw to 

 the end of the breast bone. This was partly filled with air, 

 and is evidently capable of being distended like a bladder. 

 Now I think the bird fills this bag with air and strikes it 

 with the ends of his wings, forcing the air through his open 

 mouth, there by producing the drumming noise. This may 

 be a well-known fact to many, but perhaps it is new to some. 

 Who else has noticed itv — Saugwxllah (Horse Cove, N. O, 

 April 21). 



A SeAu in Lake Michigan Waters.— On April 23, Mr. 

 John Quimby killed a large seal about one-fourth of a mile 

 from Poplar Point in Green Bay. Mr. Quimby was engaged 

 in fishing with gill nets through the ice, when he saw the 

 seal come up out of a hole in the ice. He stunned it by a 

 blow on the head with a club, dragged it out on the ice with 

 a gaff hook and killed it. Green Bay is adjacent to Lake 

 Michigan, and it seems queer that a .seal should be found 

 here, so far from salt water. The only outlet to salt water is 

 by way of Lake Michigan, Huron, St. Clair River, Lake St. 

 Clair, Detroit River, Lake Erie, Welland Canal (or Niagara 

 River) into Lake Ontario, thence River St. Lawrence to the 

 Gulf. Perhaps some of your readers can throw light upon 

 the matter, but all must admit that the seal was a long way 

 from his native element.— S. E. B. (Menominee, Mich., 

 April 28. 



font* B%8 **ld 



A RAINY DAY. 



ONE day while Jim and Frank and I were out shooting 

 partridges and were having royal sport, one of my 

 servants came to us bringing a telegram for Jim calling him 

 home on important business. 



On the following morning, therefore, very much to our 

 sorrow, we parted with this most companionable friend, who 

 took the early train for his distant home, Carrying with him 

 four dozen birds, which, let us hope, did not in any wise 

 detract from the joy his loved oues experienced on his return 

 to his home. Frank and I did not do much shooting- that 

 day, but we planned a hunt for the one following, between 

 Deep and Woody creeks, in a section where there had not 

 been any shooting for nearly twelve months, and where I 

 knew partridges could be found in great abundance. 



Next morning, although the sky was overcast with dark, 

 watery-looking clouds, we determined to make the venture. 

 I had two horses saddled, one for Frank and one for myself, 

 and tying a game bag behind my saddle, we called Frank's 

 Laverack and my two Irish reds, and after a brisk ride of 

 four miles reached our destination. But alas! our cup of 

 joy seemed about to be dashed to earth, for just as we en- 

 tered the first field, the rain began to descend with a steady 

 patter, patter, which plainly told us we might expect a rainy 

 day. But we had crossed the Rubicon, and after holding a 

 council of war, we determined that ' 'we had come fur to 

 shoot, and were gwine fur to do it." The dogs, shivering 

 with cold and wet, were crowing very impatient, and at the 

 given signal they weut off like a rocket, Frank's to the left 

 and my two to the right. The dogs had nearly crossed the 

 first field, and were turning down a small stream, when both 

 Irish reds made game, and by the time I had called Frank's 

 attention to them, both were on point, one with head and 

 tail erect and eyes glaring, the other with head slightly low- 

 ered, tail slightly elevated and one forefoot up. The Laver- 

 ack came up with a quick gallop, and perciiviug the other 

 dogs on a point, or catching scent of the game, he too pointed, 

 planting himself firmly, with his body parallel with the 

 others, his head turned 'to the right side, his whole body stiff 

 and staunch, more as if he had grown up out of the earth 

 tban as if he was standing upon it. What a picture that 

 was. Surely such an one as only a true sportsman and lover 

 of nature can rightly appreciate. 



Frank and I dismounted, and having secured our horses 

 commenced to advance; but greatly to our annoyance, that 

 bevy of birds, about forty, as nearly as we could estimate, 

 flushed so wild that neither of us got a shot on the rise. 

 Why they should have flushed so wild is yet a mystery to 

 me, for it was still raining steadily, and it is a fact well 

 known to sportsmen that on rainy days Bob White is usually 

 tamer than at any other time. This bevy 7 made a long flight 

 over and across some good cover, and we marked them down 

 in some pine timber. We followed quickly after them, and 

 on entering the timber one of the Irish reds made a beautiful 

 point. I called to Frank that he might have an opportunity 

 of drawing the first blood; but when the bird was flushed, it 

 proved to be but a single one, and that one went up over the 

 tops of such a thicket of young pines that Frank did not, 

 perhaps could not, shoot. The dogs then hunted the ground 

 closely for two or three acres without finding any more 

 birds. Finally we came to a deep dry r ravine, running 

 through the timber, and Frank went up on one side and I 

 on the other. Suddenly, without any warning, a hen bird 

 flushed from right, under my feet, and as she was crossing an 

 opening in the pines I fired, and as 1 saw a great cloud of 

 feathers floating down, I sent the dogs to retrieve it, which 

 one of them did. We had proceeded" but a few rods higher 

 up the ravine, when Frank's Laverack went down to the 

 bottom of it, and as he turned up the ravine, he suddenly 

 pointed on a scent so strong that he seemed to tremble in 

 every nerve and fiber of his body, while his eyes fairly glis- 

 tened with excitement. 



Frank and I chose the best positions we could, on our 

 respective sides, and then Frank made his Laverack flush. 

 Three birds arose, two going out on Frank's side, one of 

 which he killed, and wounded the other. The third one 

 came out on my side, ond for anght I know to the contrary, 

 still lives. The reports of our guns caused the rest of the 

 bevy to get up, and for a few seconds the whirr of their 

 wings made such a noise that birds seemed to be flying to 

 the right of us, to the left of us, before us, behind us, every- 

 where. We marked them down as best we could, and 

 having seen six or eight go out of the timber into some sedge 

 grass and short brush, we followed this course. 



We had proceeded perhaps a couple of hundred yards, 

 -when one of the Irish reds pointed, and having called Frank 

 to me, I put the bird up intending to give him the shot, but 

 contrary to our expectations, it wheeled to the right, on my 

 side, so that Frank called to me to shoot it, which I did. A 

 little further on the dogs again made game, but for some 

 time were unable to locate it; finally one of the Irish reds 

 turned back some twenty yards, and came to a point in a 

 gully, or washout, overgrown with tall sedge grass and some 

 low thin brush. Frank chose the right side andl took the 

 left, and when we made the dogs flush, five got up. Frank 

 killed one, his other shell missing fire. I brought down one 

 with each barrel, and when the dogs retrieved mine, 1 

 noticed, even before I took it into my band, that one of them 

 was very much larger than our Virginia partridges are ordin- 

 arily. This caused me to examine it more criiically,a,nd 1 found 

 what I had never seen before, veritably a red partridge, not a 

 cardinal red like our cardinal grosbeak, commonly called red 

 bird, but of a color on the back more nearly resembling the 

 rich bronze of the wild turkey, with black throat and neck, 

 and the breast, instead of being speckled with black and 

 white— as the male bird of this species is usually— the color 

 was that which might be produced by a mixture of red clay 

 and pokeberries, with feel and legs as black as a blackbirds, 

 and small warts or corns on both feet and I think on every 

 toe This bird was evidently an old patriarch, but whether 

 he was the same that Noah had in the Ark to preserve the 

 species this deponent saith not. 



Frank and 1 had some splendid sport after this bevy, bag- 

 ging ten or eleven of them. We then returned to our horses, 

 and started off again, but had not proceeded far when all 

 three dogs came to a point. We dismounted again, and 

 when we advanced the birds began to rise, but this time 

 within range. Frank brought down two, one with each 

 barrel, as handsomely as any man could have done, and 1 

 made what you may call a pot shot, or anything else you 

 please but 1 fired only one barrel, and that where the birds 

 seemed thickest, and lulled three. I am certain that was the 



