800 
BULLETIN OF THE UNITED STATES FISH COMMISSION. 
the island. Near the habitations there was a pair which probably had a nest in the vicinity. One of 
these used to come up to the house after nightfall and walk about like a barnyard fowl. Mr. Schlern- 
mer said it was searching for millers. 
The stomach of a male collected near the pond was gorged with small flies resembling the com- 
mon housefly. Although these ducks can fly perfectly well they ordinarily did not take wing until 
approached within a few rods, and then never went far. They much prefer to walk, and we used to 
see them strolling about in pairs, or even threes. In this way they pick up their food as they go' along. 
We never saw any teal near the ocean, and it is probable they never swim in salt water. 
We were fortunate enough to discover one nest within a couple of rods of the pond, placed under 
a thick chenopodium bush. Six eggs of the palest green rested in a shallow bowl, formed of long dry 
juncus stems. The hollow was a little over 5 inches in diameter. As I wished, if possible, to secure 
a picture of the female, I photographed the eggs and left them till the following morning. When I 
returned to the nest, however, three of the eggs had hatched, one young was half out, another egg 
picked, and only the sixth remained whole. In shape the egg is a blunt ovate and measures 55 by 38 
millimeters. Two days later (May 21) Mr. Snyder saw three old birds with broods, one of which 
took to the pond. I also saw a young one swimming about, the mother being hidden somewhere in 
the tangle of grasses. (Figs. 47, 48.) 
The Laysan teal is, of all the birds on the island, the one most likely to be exterminated when the 
present favorable regime comes to an end. There are probably less than a hundred of this species 
now living. I shall not presume to say what keeps their numbers so in check, but it may be Fregata 
ciquila. Cats running wild over the island would soon finish them, and the mongoose would do the 
same. 
RALLM, 
Porzanula palmeri. Laysan Rail. 
Porzanula palmeri Frowhawk, Annals and Mag. Nat. Hist., ix, 1892, p. 247. 
The Laysan rail is a wide-awake, inquisitive little creature, with an insatiable thirst for first-hand 
knowledge. It is one of the most naive, unsophisticated, and wholly unsuspicious birds in the whole 
avian catalogue. At times it is confiding and familiar in deportment, yet at others holds aloof with some 
show of reserve. It will occasionally hide behind a bunch of grass, as if afraid, and then suddenly 
come forth with entire change of demeanor and examine the intruder with critical eye. One can never 
tell just how he will be received by the next rail. Often they scurry away, as if pursued by a bete noir, 
but an insect will stop them in their mad career, and, having partaken of the interruption, they seem 
to forget their former fright and walk about stretching their necks in a highly inquisitive manner. It 
is evident that they are incapable of pursuing a train of thought for more than an instant. Their ideas 
seem to flash by in kaleidoscopic succession and within a minute they make as many false starts as a 
healthy monkey. One can scarcely imagine more amusing and foolish little birds than these. 
The rails are everywhere on Laysan in great numbers. Nearly every bunch of grass seemed to 
harbor a pair. They probably have no enemies of any importance, and the only check to their 
increase is space and food supply. A man-o’-war bird may pick one up now and then, but 1 did not 
observe this. Yet the rails like to slink about in the shade of grass tussocks, or bushes, much in the 
same way that a chipmuck seeks the shadow of a log in preference to crossing a bright, sunny spa.ce. 
This trait suggested the idea that they might have winged enemies. However, if business calls, the 
crakes exhibit no reluctance to come out into the sunlight, especially after food, and perhaps it is the 
hot sun that causes them to retire to cooler byways. 
The best time to observe the rail is during the morning or evening hours. Even at noon there 
are a great many abroad and they are only comparatively less abundant. They spend the greater part 
of their time creeping mouse-like in and out of nooks and crannies, as if trying to satisfy their genius 
for exploration. Old petrel burrows fallen in, low-bending bushes, and grass tufts are searched with 
care and precision in this unending quest. As they walk their heads are thrust forward from side to 
side, the very acme of inquisitive interest. If I stretched out on the ground with my head under a 
bush, and viewed the landscape from the rail’s point of view, in a very short time one would appear 
and fix its bright red eyes on me, as if doubtful of the propriety of pursuing acquaintance. They used 
sometimes to come up and peer at my shoes, with one foot poised in air like a barnyard fowl. 
