144 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 18, 1888. 



THE FOOD OF RAPACIOUS BIRDS. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



It is to be feared that we shall get too much ahead in 

 the matter of creating sympathy and protection fo cer- 

 tain birds of well-merited ill repute. This matter is once 

 more (as frequently heretofore) called to my attention by 

 an article in your issue of March 1, under the above cap- 

 tion. I beg leave to note an exception on the part of the 

 commonwealth vs. Accipiter velox. It is to be legiti- 

 mately inferred from Mr. Swift's showing that this des- 

 perate villain should be protected by law. Judged by the 

 contents of his stomach duly catalogued with all the 

 precision of scientific record, he preys upon small birds 

 and an occasional mouse, and is entitled to be under the 

 special protection of law as a specialist in the destruction 

 of that public nuisance the English sparrow. Knowing 

 what I know of the sharp-shinned hawk, I infer that in 

 the vicinity of Ehnira, New York, he feeds on sparrows 

 and mice on account of the scarcity of nobler game. 

 Where the Virginia partridge abounds it is a fact with- 

 in my personal knowledge and experience that this hawk 

 is ex trem el y destructive of this bird. I give as an in- 

 stance of the deadly ferocity of its swoop, an occurrence 

 I once witnessed. My brother and rnvself were shooting 

 partridges when a covey was pointed by one of the dogs 

 in a heavy bunch of tall ragweed, the other dog backing 

 at close quarters. We had advanced to within twenty 

 yards of the covey and were taking position for the shot, 

 when we were startled by a rustling noise within a few 

 feet of our heads, and hi an instant the birds flushed 

 With loud screams as a hawk plunged headlong into the 

 bunch of weeds from which they darted forth in all 

 directions. Instantly my brother, directing his first barrel 

 at the hawk, killed it, and also killed a bird with his 

 second barrel, while I directed my fire at the birds. On 

 recovering the birds, the dog also retrieved the hawk and 

 brought it in with a dead partridge in each claw. The 

 claw had entered one of the bird's throat and passed out 

 the top of its skull, through the brain; the other bird was 

 simply throttled, the foot being clenched in deadly grasp 

 around its throat. I have no idea that the hawk could 

 have taken wing with a full grown partride in each foot, 

 but this whole affair exhibits the destructiveness and 

 power and great audacity of this hawk, well named 

 ■velox, for I believe the arrowy speed of its deadly swoop 

 is unequalled by any other hawk. I have often seen this 

 hawk snatch poultry almost out of the lap of the shouting 

 hen-granny in our Southern farmyards, and only last 

 winter I knew of one of them pursuing a hen into the 

 stable, and into the very stable where a man was groom- 

 ing a horse. I take exception therefore to the sharp- 

 skinned hawk being taken under the special protection of 

 the law, in consideration of the Elmira bill of fare for 

 rapaces — a bill of fare, which does not vary in any im- 

 portant or constant relation to the variation of the species, 

 and which probably represents the raptorial food supply 

 of that vicinity much more accurately than it does the 

 general habits of the species. 



If any of your readers who are practical field sports- 

 men have any regard for my opinions, I suggest it to 

 them, that they take knowledge of a group of hawks 

 which (like Cain) any man finding them shall slay, viz., 

 Cooper's hawk, the slate-colored hawk, the rough-legged 

 hawk and, above all, the shai-p-shinned hawk. I repeat 

 it, that it is within my knowledge and experience that 

 this group is especially and very destructive of our finest 

 and most valued game birds, and our most beautiful in- 

 sectivorous and sweetest song birds. I join in Mr. Swift's 

 malediction of the fox and the great homed owl, but they 

 are scarcely worse than the weasel and skunk, which 

 both destroy. Of the abundance and destructiveness of 

 this last, few persons I suspect entertain any adequate 

 conception. As illustrating this point, I knew a case in 

 which a gentleman, having lost many poultry, put out 

 poisoned birds to kill the foxes which he accused of the 

 theft; when he went to take up his baits in the morning 

 he found no fox, but did find ten dead skunks. 



M. G. Ellzey, M.D. 

 [We do not quite understand our correspondent's classi- 

 fication. Does he place Cooper's, the sharp-sliin and the 

 rough-leg in the same group ?] 



THE HERMIT THRUSH. 



NO one of ornithological tastes can afford to be with- 

 out a fair knowledge of the thrushes. At the pres- 

 ent stage of classification, they are the climax of bird- 

 life. Whatever degree of importance may or may not 

 attach to their peculiar points of structure, or however 

 much any one may admire brilliancy of plumage, in other 

 species, in song, that most charming of all phases of bird 

 life, the thrashes silence all others. One may prefer the 

 varied range of the song of the wood thrush, singing as if 

 he were in a profound and delightful reverie; another 

 may prefer the marvellous tones of the Wilson, as he 

 throws the forest into a sweet vibration of melody by his 

 rather monotonous notes; and another still may prefer 

 the sacred song of the hermit; but all must admit, that no 

 other music of any three birds of the same family, can 

 equal that of this trio. They are also harmless birds, 

 adhering almost entirely to the forest, and so never dis- 

 turbing the products of the husbandman. Moreover, 

 they no doubt do much to aid in the preservation of our 

 grand forests. With all their high endowments, they 

 are of very humble habits. The ground, or at best the 

 lower story of the woods, is the range of their abode; nor 

 is there any evidence that the thrushes ever feel the need 

 of fine clothes. Last but not least, their gentle, retiring- 

 ways win upon us. 



To those who reside in the Middle or Southern States, 

 no one of this family seems more shy and mysterious 

 than the hermit. He is far too boreal in his habits to 

 spend the summer with us, and he generally goes 

 south of us to spend the winter. His vernal migrations 

 are in advance of roost birds, and so he steals a march on 

 us; and his return in autumn is generally too late to find 

 us in the woods. Thus persons generally fail to make 

 the acquaintance of this most boreal of Ids race. Only 

 recently have we learned how far north this bird may 

 spend the winter, and how much cold he can brave. In 

 and around the District of Columbia, the hermit may be 

 found in sheltered places of the forest and around 

 springs, at any time in winter; and in at least one 



instance, the bird has been seen near the Potomac when 

 the thermometer was a number of degrees below zero. I 

 think, however, that it can scarcely be called common at 

 this season of the year. 



To see the nest of this species, built on the ground and 

 set off with its fine clutch of greenish-blue eggs, one must 

 generally go as far north as Maine or northern New 

 York; and the same is true as to the locality of his song. 

 Much to my surprise, however, I have heard the hermit 

 sing as far south as Montgomery county, Maryland. One 

 cold wet morning, the sixth of April, I heard it deliver a 

 weak song barely intelligible; and again the 26th of 

 October, I heard a similar song. No one unacquainted 

 with this musical performance could have identified 

 it; but to one who knows the movement of the melody, 

 the peculiar modulation could not be mistaken. 



One of the most charming items to a naturalist visiting 

 northern New England or the Maritime Provinces in 

 spring is the song of the hermit thrush (Turdus palassi). 

 I reached Paradise, in the Anapolis Valley, Nova Scotia, 

 during the night, and early the next morning climbed 

 the South Mountain to listen to the birds. It was the 

 beautiful morning of the second of June, 1883. As I 

 passed through a swampy tract of alders, on nearing the 

 foot of the mountain, I was greeted with the divine song 

 of the hermit. It had been familiar to me in the days of 

 childhood, and I had often recalled the unutterably 

 sacred feelings it used to awaken; but never during the 

 many years of my ornothological studies had I heard it, 

 though I was quite familiar with the bird in its migra- 

 tions. Stimulated by anticipation and with a vague 

 conception formed from the descriptions of authors and 

 the analogous songs of other thrushes I was prepared for 

 the happiest impression. It was a moment never to be 

 forgotten. The song begins with a note like the vowel 

 O, passing through several intervals of the musical scale 

 in a smooth upward slide and in a tone of indescribable 

 melodiousness, and continues in a shake which gradually 

 softens into silence, thus giving a most pleasing diminu- 

 endo. Put into syllables it is well represented by Mr. 

 Burroughs's phrase, "O-o-o-o, holy-holy-holy-holy" and I 

 sometimes thought I heard it say, "O-o-o-o, seraph-seraph- 

 seraph-seraph." Again I could discover no suggestion of 

 articulate language, but only that soul-language of pure 

 melody which speads dh-ectly to the heart without the 

 ruder incumbrance of speech. With short pauses this di- 

 minuendo is repeated any number of times, but always on 

 a different key and witha different modulation. Now it is 

 on the main chords, now on the intermediates, and now on 

 the most delicately chosen and inspiring chromatics. 

 When pitched high, the shake is through shorter inter- 

 vals and in a weaker tone. The lower toned modulations 

 are always the sweetest. Sometimes the tones are so 

 soft as to sound far away, though the bird is quite near; 

 and again the notes are very penetrating and may be 

 heard from quite a distance, especially when aided by the 

 echoes of tall dense forests. The tone of the melody is 

 neither of flute, nor of hautboy, nor vox-hurnana, but 

 something of inimitable sweetness, and is never heard 

 away from the fragrant arcades of the forest. "Spiritual 

 serenity, or a refined^poetic, religious devotion, is indeed 

 the sentiment of the song. He whose troubled spirit 

 cannot be soothed or comforted, or whose religious feel- 

 ings cannot be awakened by this song in twilight, must 

 lack the full sense of hearing or that inner sense of the 

 soul which catches nature's most significant voices." (''Our 

 Birds in Their Haunts," pp. 491, 492. J. H. Langille, 



THE PRONG-HORN ANTELOPE. 



BY H. W. SHUFELDT, C.M.Z.S. 



IF the reader will refer back to my article upon The 

 Peccary, where the JJ. S. National Museum "List" 

 for the Order Ungulata is given, it will be seen that a 

 separate family, the Antilooapridje, has been created 

 to contain our Prong-horn Antelope. It is the only rep- 

 resentative of this family, and consequently as Antiloca- 

 pra americana it stands alone in its glory, nor is it at all 

 likely that any species will be discovered hereafter to 

 keep him company. Through the able investigations of 

 Canfield, Bartlett, and more especially the very com- 

 plete ones of Caton, it is now a well-known fact that the 

 antelope periodically sheds its horns, and that these appen- 

 dages are in due time by an epidermal growth reproduced 

 again. But this process as here performed is a very dif- 

 ferent one from what we find to be the case in the true 

 Certnckc, for in Antilocapra the horns when shed are 

 semi-hollow, having overgrown for their basal moieties 

 a bony core found on the frontal region of the skull over 

 each eye. The study of the growth and shedding of 

 these horns is a wonderfully interesting chapter in an- 

 atomy and physiology and should not be missed on any 

 account by those engaged in such subjects. True ante- 

 lope are not known to shed then- horns, and this char- 

 acter alone would, in classification, place our Prong- 

 horn dh-ectly between the Cervidce and the hollow-horned 

 raminants. 



Furthermore, this animal, as we well know, has an 

 anterior projecting prong on each horn, which is never 

 the case in true antelope, and it. likewise agrees with the 

 hollow-horned ruminant's, as the cattle, in possessing a 

 gall-bladder, and in lacking the lachrymal sinus in front 

 of each eye. As in the deer tribe, our female antelope 

 possesses four functional mammae, Capra having but 

 two. Antilocapra again, lacks the rudimentary hoottets, 

 to the side and near of its cloven hoofs proper; nor has it 

 the cervine tarsal and metatarsal glands, though eleven 

 other small glandular structures are located in the integu- 

 ments upon different parts of its body, the one on the 

 middle of the back making the odd one. Exceedingly 

 curious in character is the coat of our antelope, each 

 hair being hollow, pointed, and fragile, that is, when 

 once bent, it nearly breaks, and owing to its non-elasticity 

 will not resume its straightness again. A close coat of 

 fine white fur is found next the skin in this animal, and 

 Caton has noticed that whenever it "is excited in play, 

 by fright or by rage, the hair of the white patch on the 

 rump rises up and assumes a more or less curved radial 

 position, from a central point on each side of the verte- 

 brae, as we sometimes see too radial points on the human 

 head-" I would add to this that the antelope also erects 

 the hah- this way when in great pain, as I have observed 

 in animals of this species that I have wounded, and ap- 

 proached to kill. This erect and bristling bouquet of 

 snow-white hair when thus displayed upon the round 

 rump of this creature, is truly a beautiful sight, and once 

 seen not likely to be forgotten. 



The eyes at Antilocapra are very large, intensely black *J 

 wiping, soft and expressive, and full of fire when the| 

 animal is irritated. Yet our antelope has but poor vision, 

 and depends, so far as its senses are concerned, very* 

 largely upon its smell and hearing to avoid its enemies^ 

 Female antelopes of this species also develop a short 

 pair of horns, ranging from one to two inches long, and 

 as one difference in the kids of this animal, we may 

 detect the rudimentary horns of the male at birth but not 

 those of the female. As a rule the female bears a pair of 

 kids at a birth, but may have only one; all of those Iil 

 have discovered leading young have always had twoJ 

 Dr. Eothrock, several years ago, secured a very youngj 

 deformed kid of this species, it having two heads joined 

 back of the orbits. The prepared skull from this specM 

 men used to be in the Museum of the Surgeon General's 1 

 office of the Army, at Washington. 



From my own studies and observation, and from myfl 

 reading the works of others upon Antilocapra, I woidd I 

 say, so far as his classification goes, based upon the sum- j 

 mation of his structure as we now understand it, that II 

 take him to be more nearly related to certain antelopes--'! 

 than to any of the other ruminants, with a dash of theJ 

 caprine, cervine and cavicornine elements still clinging 

 to his organization, and with a strength of prominence 

 exactly in proportion to the order in which I have named 

 them; more of the goat than of the deer, more of the deer 

 than of the Bos, and a great deal more of the antelope \ 

 than all three of these put together. 



Prong-bucks shun the forest, but occur from small j 

 bands to thousands on the rolling prairies from the 

 tropics to the 54° north latitude, west of the Missouri River, 

 They probably never passed east of the Mississippi ; they 

 always have been a plain lover, as are their nearest kin. 'j 

 Several years ago I was hunting antelope some five ojM 

 six miles north of Fort Fetterman in Wyoming. It waifj 

 in early October, and my success during the day had been 

 wretched, for I had been tantalized with the sight of a | 

 great many antelope, but had shot never a one. On my* 

 return, being mounted on an excellent hunting horse, X§ 

 came to the top of a low rolling hill, when upon look- 

 ing down in the shallow valley beyond it, there lay nine 4 

 antelope upon the ground, and all within two hundred! 

 yards. At the sight of me they jumped up together, and 

 you may imagine my surprise when I saw that the largest 

 buck, a full-grown and splendid specimen, had a jet black \ 

 head and shoulders, while the coloration of the hair of J 

 the rest of his body was normal. My brain actually 

 reeled with excitement, for I would risk almost anything ' 

 to obtain such a prize. They were rested, while myself I 

 and horse were nearly tired out with the day's ride, so It 

 hardly knew what to do, especially as they soon began toJ 

 walk off at a rapid pace. Having succeeded often in aj 

 charge under such circumstances, I resolved to try it, and 

 at once plunged the spm-s into the flanks of my wear^fl 

 horse; and the spurt we made surprised the antelope, and ] 

 diminished the distance between us in a trice by a hunJl 

 dred yards. Here I rapidly dismounted with rifle in ! 

 hand, and let my horse go. Meanwhile my game took J 

 start and actually flew up the side of a low, long and nar- J 

 row hill, some one hunched and fifty yards beyond me, and i 

 instead of passing over its crest, tore along at a steam :j 

 engine rate down the middle path of its summit. The I 

 old black-headed buck was in the lead, and the other i 

 eight followed in single file. I had a heavy rifle, made if 

 especially by the Government for officers of the Army,J| 

 caliber .45, and with it I drew a fine sight on the object I 

 of all my desires, who was going at such a pace that one* 

 could not keep his legs individualized by sight; then 13 

 held fully three yards directly ahead of him, and pulled,B 

 Imagine my disappointment when I saw a noble doe t] 

 directly in his wake, plunge one side, and roll dowmW 

 stone dead, with the bullet through her heart. Dis* 

 mounted as I was, and completely leg-weary, my last™ 

 chance was gone, and from that day to this, I have neveilj 

 seen or even heard of such a specimen, and indeed, sM 

 melanocomous condition as that was in the antelope must I 

 be one of the rarest of freaks. 



Never have I seen better ground to hunt the antelopoH 

 on, though, than the Laramie Plains, where, on one oc-fi 

 casion, over ten years ago, I slept out under a singiSI 

 blanket with a companion hunter, with the view of "giv-JI 

 ing them a brush" next day. It froze hard during then 

 night, and in the morning when the fight was still a deejjM 

 gray, I sat up to rub my poor joints, and to bring mjj 

 nearly congealed circulation into play again. The light 

 was just sufficient to allow me to see three white and 

 slowly moving objects not more than fifty yards from the 

 foot of my bed. At this sight I naturally warmed up, (< 

 and commenced rubbing my eyes instead of my stiffened* 

 joints. They were antelope; and quietly reaching out for 

 my loaded rifle, I, in exactly the same instant of timevl 

 knocked down an old buck, and caused my snoring com^B 

 panion to jump clean out from under the blanket, withj 

 an alarm, which he said prevented him from hitting a 

 single antelope during the day's hunt which followed. I] 

 It is not often one can "sit up in bed" and shoot an anteS 

 lope at peep of day. Before evening I had seven down, 

 all "single stalks," which most people 1 think will con- 1 

 sider a good bag. 



The cutaneous glands of the Prong-horn, which I have* 

 already alluded to in a foregoing paragraph, are found 

 both in buck and doe, and at all seasons are responsible for 

 the indescribable and pungent odor which surrounds theseM 

 animals. What the exact use of such an organ may be IM 

 am at present unable to state, but am inclined to think « 

 that the chief use of the glands is to protect the animals 

 from swarms of troublesome insects, as gnats, mosquitoeiB 

 and flies. Its short tail is useless for any such purpose, IB 

 and these pests on the plains are truly frightful sometimes, 

 and yet I have to see an antelope ever annoyed with them^S 

 while I have seen horses driven nearly distracted. 



Where the skin is exposed on an antelope it is of a ■ 

 jetty black color, while where the hair grows it is of a 

 bright flesh tint. For the most part the coloration of an 

 adult specimen of this species is of a tawny ochre shade,™ 

 being darker along the back and lighter on the sides. 

 The animal is also handsomely set off with certain whitaj 

 areas, and black facings, distributed as 1 have drawn 

 them in my figures illustrating this paper. Horns andfl 

 hoofs are both coal black, although the apices of thcM 

 former are often shaded off with a paler tint. Kids whenjM 

 first born never show the maculation so characteristic Wfl 

 the fawns of the true Cervidte, but are essentially coloreofl 

 like their parents, although of much paler shades wherefl 

 the tawny tints prevail. 

 Prong-horns in then- feeding seem to confine themselye^B 



