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 op 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 im- 
mediate, 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 
