part ii

. p. 286.

RUSTY GRAKLE, GRACULA FERRUGINEA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. iii. p. 41. pl. 21. fig. 3. Male.

RUSTY BLACKBIRD, QUISCALUS FERRUGINEUS, _Nuttall_, Manual, p. 199.

Adult Male. Plate CLVII. Fig. 1.

Bill of moderate length, straight, tapering, compressed from the base; upper mandible prolonged on the forehead, forming an acute angle there, a little declinate at the tip, the dorsal outline slightly convex, the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected; lower mandible nearly straight in its dorsal outline, convex on the sides, the edges sharp and inflected; gap-line deflected at the base. Nostrils basal, oval, half closed above by a membrane. Head of ordinary size, neck rather short, body rather slender. Feet of moderate length, strong; tarsus compressed, with a few long scutella anteriorly, sharp behind; toes compressed, the lateral nearly equal, the outer united as far as the second joint to the middle, which is much longer, hind-toe not much stouter than the inner; claws rather long, arched, compressed, very acute.

Plumage soft, blended, glossy. Wings rather long, second quill longest, first and fourth equal. Tail rather long, slightly rounded, of twelve broad feathers.

Bill and feet black. Iris pale yellow. The general colour is deep black, with greenish and bluish reflections.

Length 9¼ inches, extent of wings 14¼; bill along the back ¾, along the edge 11/12; tarsus 1¼.

Adult Female. Plate CLVII. Fig. 2.

Bill, iris, and feet as in the male. The general colour is brownish-black; the sides of the head over the eyes, and a broad band beneath it light yellowish-brown, the feathers of the lower parts more or less margined with brownish.

Length 8-11/12 inches, extent of wings 13½.

Young bird fully fledged. Plate CLVII. Fig. 3, 3.

Bill and feet brownish-black. Iris pale yellow. Head and neck light brown, the rest of the upper parts brownish-black, edged with light reddish-brown, the rump tinged with grey. A band over the eye, and the fore part and sides of the neck and breast pale yellowish-brown, sides tinged with brown, under tail-coverts dusky.

THE BLACK HAW.

PRUNUS NIGRA, _Pursh_, Flor. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 331. —ICOSANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._ ROSACEÆ, _Juss._

Leaves deciduous, ovate, acuminate, unequally serrate, smooth on both sides; umbels sessile, solitary, few-flowered.

This species of Prunus, which is tolerably abundant in Louisiana, the only State in which I have observed it, grows along the borders of the forest, and often attains a height of thirty or more feet. Its leaves fall at a very early period, but its fruits, which are pleasant to the taste, remain until after the first frosts, or until devoured by birds, opossums, squirrels, or racoons.

THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW, OR AMERICAN SWIFT.

_CYPSELUS PELASGIUS_, TEMM.

PLATE CLVIII. MALE, FEMALE, AND NEST.

Since our country has furnished thousands of convenient places for this Swallow to breed in, free from storms, snakes, or quadrupeds, it has abandoned, with a judgment worthy of remark, its former abodes in the hollows of trees, and taken possession of the chimneys, which emit no smoke in the summer season. For this reason, no doubt, it has obtained the name by which it is generally known. I well remember the time when, in Lower Kentucky, Indiana, and Illinois, many resorted to excavated branches and trunks, for the purpose of breeding; nay, so strong is the influence of original habit, that not a few still betake themselves to such places, not only to roost, but also to breed, especially in those wild portions of our country that can scarcely be said to be inhabited. In such instances, they appear to be as nice in the choice of a tree, as they generally are in our cities in the choice of a chimney, wherein to roost, before they leave us. Sycamores of gigantic growth, and having a mere shell of bark and wood to support them, seem to suit them best, and wherever I have met with one of those patriarchs of the forest rendered habitable by decay, there I have found the Swallows breeding in spring and summer, and afterwards roosting until the time of their departure. I had a tree of this kind cut down, which contained about thirty of their nests in its trunk, and one in each of the hollow branches.

The nest, whether placed in a tree or chimney, consists of small dry twigs, which are procured by the birds in a singular manner. While on wing, the Chimney Swallows are seen in great numbers whirling round the tops of some decayed or dead tree, as if in pursuit of their insect prey. Their movements at this time are extremely rapid; they throw their body suddenly against the twig, grapple it with their feet, and by an instantaneous jerk, snap it off short, and proceed with it to the place intended for the nest. The Frigate Pelican sometimes employs the same method for a similar purpose, carrying away the stick in its bill, in place of holding it with its feet.

The Swallow fixes the first sticks on the wood, the rock, or the chimney wall, by means of its saliva, arranging them in a semicircular form, crossing and interweaving them, so as to extend the framework outwards. The whole is afterwards glued together with saliva, which is spread around it for an inch or more, to fasten it securely. When the nest is in a chimney, it is generally placed on the east side, and is from five to eight feet from the entrance; but in the hollow of a tree, where only they breed in communities, it is placed high or low according to convenience. The fabric, which is very frail, now and then gives way, either under the pressure of the parents and young, or during sudden bursts of heavy rain, when the whole is dashed to the ground. The eggs are from four to six, and of a pure white colour. Two broods are raised in the season.

The flight of this species is performed somewhat in the manner of the European Swift, but in a more hurried although continued style, and generally by repeated flappings, unless when courtship is going on, on which occasion it is frequently seen sailing with its wings fixed as it were, both sexes as they glide through the air issuing a shrill rattling twitter, and the female receiving the caresses of the male. At other times it is seen ranging far and wide at a considerable elevation over the forests and cities; again, in wet weather, it flies close over the ground; and anon it skims the water, to drink and bathe. When about to descend into a hollow tree or a chimney, its flight, always rapid, is suddenly interrupted as if by magic, for down it goes in an instant, whirling in a peculiar manner, and whirring with its wings, so as to produce a sound in the chimney like the rumbling of very distant thunder. They never alight on trees or on the ground. If one is caught and placed on the latter, it can only move in a very awkward fashion. I believe that the old birds sometimes fly at night, and have reason to think that the young are fed at such times, as I have heard the whirring sound of the former, and the acknowledging cries of the latter, during calm and clear nights.

When the young accidentally fall, which sometimes happens, although the nest should remain, they scramble up again, by means of their sharp claws, lifting one foot after another, in the manner of young Wood Ducks, and supporting themselves with their tail. Some days before the young are able to fly, they scramble up the walls to near the mouth of the chimney, where they are fed. Any observer may discover this, as he sees the parents passing close over them, without entering the funnel. The same occurrence takes place when they are bred in a tree.

In the cities, these birds make choice of a particular chimney for their roosting place, where, early in spring, before they have begun building, both sexes resort in multitudes, from an hour or more before sunset, until long after dark. Before entering the aperture, they fly round and over it many times, but finally go in one at a time, until hurried by the lateness of the hour, several drop in together. They cling to the wall with their claws, supporting themselves also by their sharp tail, until the dawn, when, with a roaring sound, the whole pass out almost at once. Whilst at St Francisville in Louisiana, I took the trouble of counting how many entered one chimney before dark. I sat at a window not far from the spot, and reckoned upwards of a thousand, having missed a considerable number. The place at that time contained about a hundred houses, and no doubt existed in my mind that the greater number of these birds were on their way southward, and had merely stopped there for the night.

Immediately after my arrival at Louisville, in the State of Kentucky, I became acquainted with the hospitable and amiable Major WILLIAM CROGHAN and his family. While talking one day about birds, he asked me if I had seen the trees in which the Swallows were supposed to spend the winter, but which they only entered, he said, for the purpose of roosting. Answering in the affirmative, I was informed that on my way back to town, there was a tree remarkable on account of the immense numbers that resorted to it, and the place in which it stood was described to me. I found it to be a sycamore, nearly destitute of branches, sixty or seventy feet high, between seven and eight feet in diameter at the base, and about five for the distance of forty feet up, where the stump of a broken hollowed branch, about two feet in diameter, made out from the main stem. This was the place at which the Swallows entered. On closely examining the tree, I found it hard, but hollow to near the roots. It was now about four o'clock after noon, in the month of July. Swallows were flying over Jeffersonville, Louisville, and the woods around, but there were none near the tree. I proceeded home, and shortly after returned on foot. The sun was going down behind the Silver Hills; the evening was beautiful; thousands of Swallows were flying closely above me, and three or four at a time were pitching into the hole, like bees hurrying into their hive. I remained, my head leaning on the tree, listening to the roaring noise made within by the birds as they settled and arranged themselves, until it was quite dark, when I left the place, although I was convinced that many more had to enter. I did not pretend to count them, for the number was too great, and the birds rushed to the entrance so thick as to baffle the attempt. I had scarcely returned to Louisville, when a violent thunder-storm passed suddenly over the town, and its appearance made me think that the hurry of the Swallows to enter the tree was caused by their anxiety to avoid it. I thought of the Swallows almost the whole night, so anxious had I become to ascertain their number, before the time of their departure should arrive.

Next morning I rose early enough to reach the place long before the least appearance of daylight, and placed my head against the tree. All was silent within. I remained in that posture probably twenty minutes, when suddenly I thought the great tree was giving way, and coming down upon me. Instinctively I sprung from it, but when I looked up to it again, what was my astonishment to see it standing as firm as ever. The Swallows were now pouring out in a black continued stream. I ran back to my post, and listened in amazement to the noise within, which I could compare to nothing else than the sound of a large wheel revolving under a powerful stream. It was yet dusky, so that I could hardly see the hour on my watch, but I estimated the time which they took in getting out at more than thirty minutes. After their departure, no noise was heard within, and they dispersed in every direction with the quickness of thought.

I immediately formed the project of examining the interior of the tree, which, as my kind friend, Major CROGHAN, had told me, proved the most remarkable I had ever met with. This I did, in company with a hunting associate. We went provided with a strong line and a rope, the first of which we, after several trials, succeeded in throwing across the broken branch. Fastening the rope to the line we drew it up, and pulled it over until it reached the ground again. Provided with the longest cane we could find, I mounted the tree by the rope, without accident, and at length seated myself at ease on the broken branch; but my labour was fruitless, for I could see nothing through the hole, and the cane, which was about fifteen feet long, touched nothing on the sides of the tree within that could give any information. I came down fatigued and disappointed.

The next day I hired a man, who cut a hole at the base of the tree. The shell was only eight or nine inches thick, and the axe soon brought the inside to view, disclosing a matted mass of exuviæ, with rotten feathers reduced to a kind of mould, in which, however, I could perceive fragments of insects and quills. I had a passage cleared, or rather bored through this mass, for nearly six feet. This operation took up a good deal of time, and knowing by experience that if the birds should notice the hole below, they would abandon the tree, I had it carefully closed. The Swallows came as usual that night, and I did not disturb them for several days. At last, provided with a dark lantern, I went with my companion about nine in the evening, determined to have a full view of the interior of the tree. The hole was opened with caution. I scrambled up the sides of the mass of exuviæ, and my friend followed. All was perfectly silent. Slowly and gradually I brought the light of the lantern to bear on the sides of the hole above us, when we saw the Swallows clinging side by side, covering the whole surface of the excavation. In no instance did I see one above another. Satisfied with the sight, I closed the lantern. We then caught and killed with as much care as possible more than a hundred, stowing them away in our pockets and bosoms, and slid down into the open air. We observed that, while on this visit, not a bird had dropped its dung upon us. Closing the entrance, we marched towards Louisville perfectly elated. On examining the birds which we had procured, a hundred and fifteen in number, we found only six females. Eighty-seven were adult males; of the remaining twenty-two the sex could not be ascertained, and I had no doubt that they were young of that year's first brood, the flesh and quill-feathers being tender and soft.

Let us now make a rough calculation of the number that clung to the tree. The space beginning at the pile of feathers and moulded exuviæ, and ending at the entrance of the hole above, might be fully 25 feet in height, with a breadth of 15 feet, supposing the tree to be 5 feet in diameter at an average. There would thus be 375 feet square of surface. Each square foot, allowing a bird to cover a space of 3 inches by 1½, which is more than enough, judging from the manner in which they were packed, would contain 32 birds. The number of Swallows, therefore, that roosted in this single tree was 9000.

I watched the motions of the Swallows, and when the young birds that had been reared in the chimneys of Louisville, Jeffersonville, and the houses of the neighbourhood, or the trees suited for the purpose, had left their native recesses, I visited the tree on the 2d day of August. I concluded that the numbers resorting to it had not increased; but I found many more females and young than males, among upwards of fifty, which were caught and opened. Day after day I watched the tree. On the 13th of August, not more than two or three hundred came there to roost. On the 18th of the same month, not one did I see near it, and only a few scattered individuals were passing, as if moving southward. In September I entered the tree at night, but not a bird was in it. Once more I went to it in February, when the weather was very cold; and perfectly satisfied that all these Swallows had left our country, I finally closed the entrance, and left off visiting it.

May arrived, bringing with its vernal warmth the wanderers of the air, and I saw their number daily augmenting, as they resorted to the tree to roost. About the beginning of June, I took it in my head to close the aperture above, with a bundle of straw, which with a string I could draw off whenever I might chuse. The result was curious enough; the birds as usual came to the tree towards night; they assembled, passed and repassed, with apparent discomfort, until I perceived many flying off to a great distance, on which I removed the straw, when many entered the hole, and continued to do so until I could no longer see them from the ground.

I left Louisville, having removed my residence to Henderson, and did not see the tree until five years after, when I still found the Swallows resorting to it. The pieces of wood with which I had closed the entrance had rotted, or had been carried off, and the hole was again completely filled with exuviæ and mould. During a severe storm, their ancient tenement at length gave way, and came to the ground.

General WILLIAM CLARK assured me that he saw this species on the whole of his route to the Pacific, and there can be no doubt that in those wilds it still breeds in trees or rocky caverns.

Its food consists entirely of insects, the pellets composed of the indigestible parts of which it disgorges. It is, furnished with glands which supply the unctuous matter with which it fastens its nest.

This species does not appear to extend its migrations farther east than the British provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. It is unknown in Newfoundland and Labrador; nor was it until the 29th of May that I saw some at Eastport in Maine, where a few breed.

HIRUNDO PELASGIA, _Linn._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 345.—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 581.

CYPSELUS PELASGIUS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 63.

CHIMNEY SWALLOW, HIRUNDO PELASGIA, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith, vol. v. p. 48. pl. 39. fig. 1.—_Nuttall_, Manual, p. 609.

Adult Male. Plate CLVIII. Fig. 1.

Bill extremely short, very broad at the base, with a very wide rictus, compressed towards the tip; upper mandible bent towards the end, the sides convex, the sharp edges inflected and having an indistinct sinus near the tip; lower mandible nearly straight; gap line slightly arched. Nostrils basal, approximate, oblong. Head large and depressed, neck short, body slender. Feet extremely short and weak; tarsus rounded, destitute of scutella; toes extremely short, the three anterior nearly equal, each with only two joints, hind toe puny, with a much smaller claw; claws strong, shortish, compressed, arched, very acute.

Plumage short, compact, rather blended, slightly glossed; wings extremely elongated, falciform, quills narrow with excessively strong shafts, the first longest. Tail of ten feathers, very short, slightly rounded, the shaft of extraordinary strength, and projecting beyond the webs in the form of a stiff prickle.

Bill black. Iris black. Feet dusky, with black claws. The general colour is brownish-black, lighter on the rump, and with slight greenish reflections on the head and back; the throat greyish-white, gradually shaded into the greyish-brown colour of the under parts, which have a peculiar grey and greenish lustre; the space from the eye to the bill black; a greyish-white line over the eye.

Length 4¾ inches, extent of wings 12; bill along the back 2/12, along the edge 7/12; tarsus 5/12.

Adult Female. Plate CLVIII. Fig. 2.

The Female is similar to the male.

Two views of the nest are also given in the plate.

THE CARDINAL GROSBEAK.

_FRINGILLA CARDINALIS_, BONAP.

PLATE CLIX. MALE AND FEMALE.

In richness of plumage, elegance of motion, and strength of song, this species surpasses all its kindred in the United States. It is known by the names of Red Bird, Virginia Nightingale, Cardinal Bird, and that at the head of the present article. It is very abundant in all our Southern States, as well as in the peninsula of the Floridas. In the western country a great number are found as far up on the Ohio as the city of Cincinnati, and they extend to considerable distances into Indiana, Illinois and Missouri. They are found in the maritime districts of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, where they breed, and where a few remain the whole year; some are also seen in the State of New York, and now and then a straggler proceeds into Massachusetts; but farther eastward this species has never been observed.

This fine songster relishes the interior of the forest, and the heart of the deepest cane-brakes or retired swamps, as well as the neighbourhood of cities. It is constantly found in our fields, orchards and gardens; nay, it often enters the very streets of our southern towns and villages to breed; and it is rare that one goes into a planter's yard without observing the Red Bird skipping about the trees or on the turf beneath them. Go where it may, it is always welcome, and every where a favourite, so rich is its song, and so brilliant its plumage.

The Cardinal Bird breeds in the Floridas. In the beginning of March I found them already paired in that country, and on the 8th of February near General HERNANDEZ'S. In the neighbourhood of Charleston, as well as in Louisiana, they are nearly a month later, and much the same lapse of time takes place again before they form a nest in the State of New Jersey or in that of Kentucky.

The nest is placed, apparently without much consideration, in some low briar, bush, or tree, often near the fence, the middle of a field, or the interior of a thicket, not far from a cooling stream, to which they are fond of resorting, for the purpose of drinking and bathing. Sometimes you find it placed close to the planter's house or in his garden, a few yards from that of the Mocking Bird or the Thrasher. It is composed of dry leaves and twigs, together with a large proportion of dry grass and slips of grape-vines, and is finished within with bent-grass, wrought in a circular form. The eggs are from four to six, of a dull white colour, marked all over with touches of olive-brown.

In the Southern Districts they now and then raise three broods in the season, but in the Middle States seldom more than one. The young on leaving the nest, frequently follow their parents on the ground for several days, after which they disperse and seek for food apart. During the pairing season, the males are so pugnacious, that although they breed near birds of other species, they never allow one of their own to nestle in their vicinity. One male may be seen following another from bush to bush, emitting a shrill note of anger, and diving towards the fugitive antagonist whenever an opportunity offers, until the latter has escaped quite beyond his jurisdiction, when the conqueror, elated, returns to his grounds, ascends his favourite tree, and pours out his song in full exultation.

Those which migrate to the eastward begin to move about the commencement of March, usually in the company of the Towhe Bunting and other Sparrows, hopping and passing from bush to bush during the whole day, announcing to the traveller and husbandman the approach of a more genial season, and resting at night in the secluded swamps. The males precede the females about ten days.

Towards autumn they frequently ascend to the tops of tall trees in search of grapes and berries, being as fond of succulent or pulpy fruits as they are of the seeds of corn and grasses. On the least appearance of danger they at once glide into the interior of the nearest thickets. During the summer heats they frequently resort to sandy roads to dust themselves, carelessly suffering people to approach them until within a few yards, when they only remove to the nearest bushes, until the intruders pass.

They are easily raised when taken from the nest, and breed when kept in aviaries. My friend Dr SAMUEL WILSON of Charleston, has had them breeding with him, having placed straw-baskets for the purpose, in which the female deposited her eggs, without improving the nest any more than by placing in it a few grass blades, perhaps pilfered from some of her neighbours. The purity of its colouring is soon lost when it is kept in confinement, where it is gentle, easily fed on corn or hemp-seed, and it sings when placed in a cage for several months in the year.

During winter the Cardinal Grosbeak frequently shews itself in the farm-yard, among Turtle-Doves, Jays, Mocking-Birds, and various species of Sparrows, picking up its food from the store daily supplied to the poultry. It now and then seeks refuge at night in the lee of some hay-stack, or throws itself with many other birds among the thickest branches of the nearest evergreen tree.

The flight of this species is strong and rapid, although seldom continued to any great distance. It is performed by glidings and jerks of the tail. When the bird is alighted it also frequently juts its tail with grace. Like all birds of the genus it hops, but does not walk.

Its song is at first loud and clear, resembling the finest sounds produced by the flageolet, and gradually descends into more marked and continued cadences, until it dies away in the air around. During the love-season the song is emitted with increased emphasis by this proud musician, who, as if aware of his powers, swells his throat, spreads his rosy tail, droops his wings, and leans alternately to the right and left, as if on the eve of expiring with delight at the delicious sounds of his own voice. Again and again are those melodies repeated, the bird resting only at intervals to breathe. They may be heard from long before the sun gilds the eastern horizon, to the period when the blazing orb pours down its noonday floods of heat and light, driving the birds to the coverts to seek repose for a while. Nature again invigorated, the musician recommences his song, when, as if he had never strained his throat before, he makes the whole neighbourhood resound, nor ceases until the shades of evening close around him. Day after day the song of the Red Bird beguiles the weariness of his mate as she assiduously warms her eggs; and at times she also assists with the modesty of her gentler sex. Few individuals of our own race refuse their homage of admiration to the sweet songster. How pleasing is it, when, by a clouded sky, the woods are rendered so dark, that were it not for an occasional glimpse of clearer light falling between the trees, you might imagine night at hand, while you are yet far distant from your home—how pleasing to have your ear suddenly saluted by the well known notes of this favourite bird, assuring you of peace around, and of the full hour that still remains for you to pursue your walk in security! How often have I enjoyed this pleasure, and how often, in due humbleness of hope, do I trust that I may enjoy it again!

I have represented a pair of these beautiful birds on a branch of the Wild Olive.

FRINGILLA CARDINALIS, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 113.

CARDINAL GROSBEAK, LOXIA CARDINALIS, _Wils._ Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. p. 38. pl. 2. fig. 1. Male; fig. 2. Female.—_Nuttall_, Manual, p. 519.

Adult Male. Plate CLIX. Fig. 1.

Bill short, very robust, conical, acute, deeper than broad at the base; upper mandible with its dorsal outline a little convex, the sides rounded, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip slightly declinate; lower mandible broader than the upper, with its dorsal line straight, the back broad, the sides rounded, the edges inflected; the gap-line deflected at the base. Nostrils basal, roundish, concealed by the feathers. Head large, neck short, body robust. Legs of moderate length, rather strong; tarsus compressed, anteriorly covered with a few scutella, posteriorly sharp; toes scutellate above, free, the lateral ones nearly equal; claws slender, arched, compressed, acute, that of the hind toe considerably larger.

Plumage soft and blended, slightly glossed. Wings of moderate length, broad, much rounded, the fourth quill longest; primaries rather broad, rounded, from the second to the sixth slightly cut out on the outer web, secondaries rather narrow and rounded. Tail long, straight, rounded. Feathers of the crown long, pointed, and erectile.

Bill of a tint approaching to coral-red. Iris dark hazel. Feet pale umber. The whole upper parts of a deep dusky-red, excepting the head which is vermillion. The anterior part of the forehead, the lores, and the upper anterior part of the neck, black. The under parts are vermillion, which is brightest anteriorly. Inner webs of the quills light brown, their shafts and those of the tail-feathers blackish-brown.

Length 8¼ inches, extent of wings 11½; bill along the back 7/12, along the edge ¾; tarsus 1½/12.

Adult Female. Plate CLIX. Fig. 2.

The female has a crest as well as the male, which it resembles in the texture of its plumage, but the tail is proportionally shorter. The general colour of the upper parts is dull greyish-brown slightly tinged with olive; the longer crest-feathers are streaked with dull red, the wings, coverts, and outer edges of the quills, are of the same tint; the edge of the wings and the lower coverts are pale vermillion, and the inner edges of the quills are of the same tint, but paler. The parts surrounding the base of the bill, which are black in the male, are blackish-grey, and the lower parts in general are pale greyish-brown.

Length 7½ inches.

THE WILD ALMOND.

PRUNUS CAROLINIANA, _Willd._ Sp. Pl. vol. ii. p. 987. _Pursh_, Fl. Amer. Sept. vol. i. p. 330.—ICOSANDRIA MONOGYNIA, _Linn._ ROSACEÆ, _Juss._

Flowers in racemes; leaves evergreen, oblong-lanceolate, mucronate, serrate, without glands at the base. The Wild Almond is altogether a southern tree. Its height now and then is as much as twenty-five feet, the stem in that case being a foot or more in diameter. The usual rounded form of its top, and the persistence of its foliage, together with its white flowers, and dark coloured fruits, render it a very agreeable object. Many are planted around the plantation grounds or the gardens of our southern cities, on account of their beautiful appearance. The fruits are greedily devoured by many species of birds, but are unpalatable to man. I have not observed it to the east of Virginia, nor farther west than the town of Memphis on the Mississippi. The wood is seldom applied to any useful purpose.

THE CAROLINA TITMOUSE.

_PARUS CAROLINENSIS._

PLATE CLX. MALE AND FEMALE.

It was not until some time after my drawing of this small southern species of Titmouse had been engraved and distributed among my patrons, that I discovered the difference as to size and habits between it and the one which inhabits the Middle and Northern States, and which has been so well described by WILSON, NUTTALL and SWAINSON. Indeed, I never was struck with the difference of size until I reached Eastport in the State of Maine, early in May 1833, when one morning my friend Lieutenant GREEN of the United States army entered my room and shewed me a Titmouse which he had just procured. The large size of his bird, compared with those met with in the south, instantly struck me.

On my return from Labrador, I immediately proceeded to Charleston in South Carolina, with a view of once more visiting the western portions of the Floridas and the whole coast of the Gulf of Mexico. In the course of conversation with my friend, the Reverend JOHN BACHMAN, I mentioned my ideas on the subject of Titmice, when he immediately told me that he had for some time been of the same mind. We both went to the woods, and procured some specimens. I wrote to several persons of my acquaintance in Massachusetts, Maine, and Maryland, and before a month had elapsed, I received an abundant supply of the Northern species, preserved in spirits, from my friend JOHN BETHUNE of Boston, Lieutenant GREEN, and Colonel THEODORE ANDERSON of Baltimore. We examined and compared many individuals of both species, and satisfied ourselves that they were indeed specifically distinct.

The new species, the Carolina Titmouse, is a constant inhabitant of the Southern States, in which I have traced it from the lower parts of Louisiana through the Floridas as far as the borders of the Roanoke River, which separates North Carolina from Virginia, when it altogether disappeared. In these countries it is found only in the immediate vicinity of ponds and deep marshy and moist swamps, rarely during winter in greater numbers than one pair together, and frequently singly. The parent birds separate from the young probably soon after the latter are able to provide for themselves. The other species moves in flocks during the whole winter, frequenting the orchards, the gardens, or the hedges and trees along the roads, entering the villages, and coming to the woodpiles of the farmers. The southern species is never met with in such places at any time of the year, and is at all seasons a shyer bird, and more difficult to be obtained. Its notes are also less sonorous, and less frequent, than those of the Titmouse found in the Middle and Northern Districts.

My friend JOHN BACHMAN is of opinion that the smaller species particularly retires from South Carolina during winter, in consequence of the small number met with there at that season. On referring to my journals, written in the Floridas, in the winter of 1831-32, I find that they are mentioned as being much more abundant than in the Carolinas, and as breeding in the swamps as early as the middle of February.

The Carolina Titmouse breeds in the holes abandoned by the Brown-headed Nuthatch; but I have not yet examined either its eggs or its nest, having at first carelessly supposed the bird to be identical with the northern species, as my predecessors had done.

My drawing of the Carolina Titmouse was made not far from New Orleans late in 1820. I have named it so, partly because it occurs in Carolina, and partly because I was desirous of manifesting my gratitude towards the citizens of that State, who by their hospitality and polite attention have so much contributed to my comfort and happiness, whenever it has been my good fortune to be among them.

PARUS CAROLINENSIS.

Adult Male. Plate CLX. Fig. 1.

Bill very short, straight, strong, compressed, rather obtuse; both mandibles with the dorsal outline slightly convex, the sides convex, the edges sharp. Nostrils basal, roundish, concealed by the recumbent feathers. Head large, neck short, body rather robust. Feet of ordinary length, rather robust; tarsus compressed, anteriorly scutellate; toes large, the three anterior united as far as the second joint, the hind one much stronger; claws rather large, compressed, arched, acute.

Plumage blended, tufty; feathers of the head glossy. Wings of moderate length, the third and fourth quills longest and equal, fifth little shorter, second longer than sixth, first and seventh about equal. Tail long, slender, slightly incurved, rounded, of twelve narrow, rounded feathers.

Bill black. Iris dark brown. Feet bluish-grey. The whole upper part of the head and the hind neck pure black, as is a large patch on the throat and fore neck. Between these patches of black, there is a band of greyish-white, from the base of the bill down the side of the neck, becoming broader and greyer behind. Back and wing-coverts ash-grey, tinged with brown. Quills brown, margined with greyish-blue, as is the tail, which is more tinged with grey. Lower parts greyish-white tinged with brown, the sides more deeply tinted.

Length 4¼ inches, extent of wings 6; bill along the ridge 3/12, along the edge 5/12; tarsus 6½/12.

Adult Female. Plate CLX. Fig. 2.

The female is similar to the male, but somewhat fainter in its tints.

This species is closely allied to the _Parus palustris_ of Europe, which, however, has the black of the head tinged with brown, and that of the throat not nearly so extensive or decided, and has the lower parts still more tinged with yellowish-brown. It is also closely allied to the _Parus atricapillus_ of WILSON, of which a description is subjoined.

THE BLACK-CAP TITMOUSE.

_PARUS ATRICAPILLUS_, _Wils._

Proportions and plumage as in _Parus carolinensis_.

Bill brownish-black. Iris dark brown. Feet bluish-grey. The whole upper part of the head and the hind neck pure black, as is a large patch on the throat and fore neck. Between these patches of black is a band of white, from the base of the bill down the sides of the neck, becoming broader behind and encroaching on the back, which, with the wing-coverts, is ash-grey tinged with brown. Quills brown, margined with bluish-white, the secondary quills so broadly margined as to leave a conspicuous white dash on the wing; tail of the same colour, similarly edged. Lower parts brownish-white.

Length 5½ inches, extent of wings 8; bill along the ridge 5/12, along the edge 7½/12; tarsus 7/12.

The two species are almost precisely similar in most respects; but _Parus carolinensis_ is much smaller than _P. atricapillus_, the former being 4½ inches long, while the latter is 5½, a great difference in birds of so small a size. The differences in the other parts are proportional. The grey of the back is purer in the smaller species, and the white of the neck more so in the larger, in which also the white edgings of the wings are very conspicuous.

THE SUPPLE JACK.

The Supple Jack is a species of Smilax extremely abundant in all the swampy portions of the Southern States. Its slender stem entwines the trunk and branches of even the tallest trees, and, with its delicate branches, is extremely tough and pliant, one of half an inch in diameter being strong enough to suspend a body having a weight of several hundred pounds. It is frequently used instead of a cord to hang clothes upon to dry. The festoons which it forms are graceful and pleasing to the eye.

THE FLORIDA KEYS.

I left you abruptly, perhaps uncivilly, reader, at the dawn of day, on Sandy Island, which lies just six miles from the extreme point of South Florida. I did so because I was amazed at the appearance of things around me, which in fact looked so different then from what they seemed at night, that it took some minutes' reflection to account for the change. When we laid ourselves down in the sand to sleep, the waters almost bathed our feet; when we opened our eyes in the morning, they were at an immense distance. Our boat lay on her side, looking not unlike a whale reposing on a mud-bank. The birds in myriads were probing their exposed pasture-ground. There great flocks of Ibises fed apart from equally large collections of Godwits, and thousands of Herons gracefully paced along, ever and anon thrusting their javelin bills into the body of some unfortunate fish confined in a small pool of water. Of Fish-Crows I could not estimate the number, but from the havoc they made among the crabs, I conjecture that these animals must have been scarce by the time of next ebb. Frigate Pelicans chased the Jager, which himself had just robbed a poor Gull of its prize, and all the Gallinules ran with spread wings from the mud-banks to the thickets of the island, so timorous had they become when they perceived us.

Surrounded as we were by so many objects that allured us, not one could we yet attain, so dangerous would it have been to venture on the mud; and our pilot having assured us that nothing could be lost by waiting, spoke of our eating, and on this hint told us that he would take us to a part of the island where "our breakfast would be abundant although uncooked." Off we went, some of the sailors carrying baskets, others large tin pans and wooden vessels, such as they use for eating their meals in. Entering a thicket of about an acre in extent, we found on every bush several nests of the Ibis, each containing three large and beautiful eggs, and all hands fell to gathering. The birds gave way to us, and ere long we had a heap of eggs that promised delicious food. Nor did we stand long in expectation, for, kindling a fire, we soon prepared, in one way or other, enough to satisfy the cravings of our hungry maws. Breakfast ended, the pilot looking at the gorgeous sunrise, said, "Gentlemen, prepare yourselves for fun, the tide is acoming."

Over these enormous mud-flats, a foot or two of water is quite sufficient to drive all the birds ashore, even the tallest Heron or Flamingo, and the tide seems to flow at once over the whole expanse. Each of us provided with a gun, posted himself behind a bush, and no sooner had the water forced the winged creatures to approach the shore, than the work of destruction commenced. When it at length ceased, the collected mass of birds of different kinds looked not unlike a small haycock. Who could not with a little industry have helped himself to a few of their skins? Why, reader, surely no one as fond of these things as I am. Every one assisted in this, and even the sailors themselves tried their hand at the work.

Our pilot, good man, told us he was no hand at such occupations, and would go after something else. So taking Long Tom and his fishing-tackle, he marched off quietly along the shores. About an hour afterwards we saw him returning, when he looked quite exhausted, and on our inquiring the cause said, "There is a dew-fish yonder and a few balacoudas, but I am not able to bring them, or even to haul them here; please send the sailors after them." The fishes were accordingly brought, and as I had never seen a dew-fish, I examined it closely, and took an outline of its form, which some days hence you may perhaps see. It exceeded a hundred pounds in weight, and afforded excellent eating. The balacouda is also a good fish, but at times a dangerous one, for, according to the pilot, on more than one occasion "some of these gentry" had followed him when waist-deep in the water, in pursuit of a more valuable prize, until in self-defence he had to spear them, fearing that "the gentlemen" might at one dart cut off his legs, or some other nice bit, with which he was unwilling to part.

Having filled our cask from a fine well long since dug in the sand of Cape Sable, either by Seminole Indians or pirates, no matter which, we left Sandy Isle about full tide, and proceeded homewards, giving a call here and there at different keys, with the view of procuring rare birds, and also their nests and eggs. We had twenty miles to go "as the birds fly," but the tortuosity of the channels rendered our course fully a third longer. The sun was descending fast, when a black cloud suddenly obscured the majestic orb. Our sails swelled by a breeze, that was scarcely felt by us, and the pilot, requesting us to sit on the weather gunwale, told us that we were "going to get it." One sail was hauled in and secured, and the other was reefed although the wind had not increased. A low murmuring noise was heard, and across the cloud that now rolled along in tumultuous masses, shot vivid flashes of lightning. Our experienced guide steered directly across a flat towards the nearest land. The sailors passed their quids from one cheek to the other, and our pilot having covered himself with his oil-jacket, we followed his example. "Blow, sweet breeze," cried he at the tiller, and "we'll reach land before the blast overtakes us, for, gentlemen, it is a furious cloud yon."

A furious cloud indeed was the one which now, like an eagle on outstretched wings, approached so swiftly, that one might have deemed it in haste to destroy us. We were not more than a cable's length from the shore, when, with imperative voice, the pilot calmly said to us, "Sit quite still, Gentlemen, for I should not like to lose you overboard just now; the boat can't upset, my word for that, if you will but sit still—here we have it!"

Reader, persons who have never witnessed a hurricane, such as not unfrequently desolates the sultry climates of the south, can scarcely form an idea of their terrific grandeur. One would think that, not content with laying waste all on land, it must needs sweep the waters of the shallows quite dry, to quench its thirst. No respite for an instant does it afford to the objects within the reach of its furious current. Like the scythe of the destroying angel, it cuts every thing by the roots, as it were with the careless ease of the experienced mower. Each of its revolving sweeps collects a heap that might be likened to the full sheaf which the husbandman flings by his side. On it goes with a wildness and fury that are indescribable; and when at last its frightful blasts have ceased, Nature, weeping and disconsolate, is left bereaved of her beauteous offspring. In some instances, even a full century is required, before, with all her powerful energies, she can repair her loss. The planter has not only lost his mansion, his crops, and his flocks, but he has to clear his lands anew, covered and entangled as they are with the trunks and branches of trees that are every where strewn. The bark overtaken by the storm, is cast on the lee-shore, and if any are left to witness the fatal results, they are the "wreckers" alone, who, with inward delight, gaze upon the melancholy spectacle.

Our light bark shivered like a leaf the instant the blast reached her sides. We thought she had gone over; but the next instant she was on the shore. And now in contemplation of the sublime and awful storm, I gazed around me. The waters drifted like snow; the tough mangroves hid their tops amid their roots, and the loud roaring of the waves driven among them blended with the howl of the tempest. It was not rain that fell; the masses of water flew in a horizontal direction, and where a part of my body was exposed, I felt as if a smart blow had been given me on it. But enough!—in half an hour it was over. The pure blue sky once more embellished the heavens, and although it was now quite night, we considered our situation a good one.

The crew and some of the party spent the night in the boat. The pilot, myself, and one of my assistants took to the heart of the mangroves, and having found high land, we made a fire as well as we could, spread a tarpauling, and fixing our insect bars over us, soon forgot in sleep the horrors that had surrounded us.

Next day, the Marion proceeded on her cruize, and in a few more days, having anchored in another safe harbour, we visited other Keys, of which I will, with your leave, give you a short account.

The Deputy-Collector of Indian Isle gave me the use of his pilot for a few weeks, and I was the more gratified by this, that besides knowing him to be a good man and a perfect sailor, I was now convinced that he possessed a great knowledge of the habits of birds, and could without loss of time lead me to their haunts. We were a hundred miles or so farther to the south. Gay May like a playful babe gambolled on the bosom of his mother nature, and every thing was replete with life and joy. The pilot had spoken to me of some birds, which I was very desirous of obtaining. One morning, therefore, we went in two boats to some distant isle, where they were said to breed. Our difficulties in reaching that Key might to some seem more imaginary than real, were I faithfully to describe them. Suffice it for me to tell you that after hauling our boats and pushing them with our hands, for upwards of nine miles, over the flats, we at last reached the deep channel that usually surrounds each of the mangrove islands. We were much exhausted by the labour and excessive heat, but we were now floating on deep water, and by resting a short while under the shade of some mangroves, we were soon refreshed by the breeze that gently blew from the Gulf. We further repaired our strength by taking some food; and I may as well tell you here, that during all the time I spent in that portion of the Floridas, my party restricted themselves to fish and soaked biscuit, while our only and constant beverage was water and mollasses. I found that in these warm latitudes, exposed as we constantly were to alternate heat and moisture, ardent spirits and more substantial food would prove dangerous to us. The officers, and those persons who from time to time kindly accompanied us, adopted the same regimen, and not an individual of us had ever to complain of so much as a headache.

But we were under the mangroves—at a great distance on one of the flats, the Heron which I have named _Ardea occidentalis_ was seen moving majestically in great numbers. The tide rose and drove them away, and as they came towards us, to alight and rest for a time on the tallest trees, we shot as many as I wished. I also took under my charge several of their young alive.

At another time we visited the "Mule Keys." There the prospect was in many respects dismal in the extreme. As I followed their shores, I saw bales of cotton floating in all the coves, while spars of every description lay on the beach, and far off on the reefs I could see the last remains of a lost ship, her dismantled hulk. Several schooners were around her; they were wreckers. I turned me from the sight with a heavy heart. Indeed, as I slowly proceeded, I dreaded to meet the floating or cast ashore bodies of some of the unfortunate crew. Our visit to the Mule Keys was in no way profitable, for besides meeting with but a few birds in two or three instances, I was, whilst swimming in the deep channel of a mangrove isle, much nearer a large shark than I wish ever to be again.

"The service" requiring all the attention, prudence and activity of Captain DAY and his gallant officers, another cruize took place, of which you will find some account in the sequel; and while I rest a little on the deck of the Lady of the Green Mantle, let me offer my humble thanks to the Being who has allowed me the pleasure of thus relating to you, kind reader, a small part of my adventures.

THE CARACARA EAGLE.

_POLYBORUS VULGARIS_, VIEILL.

PLATE CLXI. ADULT.

I was not aware of the existence of the Caracara or Brazilian Eagle in the United States, until my visit to the Floridas in the winter of 1831. On the 24th November of that year, in the course of an excursion near the town of St Augustine, I observed a bird flying at a great elevation, and almost over my head. Convinced that it was unknown to me, and bent on obtaining it, I followed it nearly a mile, when I saw it sail towards the earth, making for a place where a group of Vultures were engaged in devouring a dead horse. Walking up to the horse, I observed the new bird alighted on it, and helping itself freely to the savoury meat beneath its feet; but it evinced a degree of shyness far greater than that of its associates, the Turkey Buzzards and Carrion Crows. I moved circuitously, until I came to a deep ditch, along which I crawled, and went as near to the bird as I possibly could; but finding the distance much too great for a sure shot, I got up suddenly, when the whole of the birds took to flight. The eagle, as if desirous of forming acquaintance with me, took a round and passed over me. I shot, but to my great mortification missed it. However it alighted a few hundred yards off, in an open savanna, on which I laid myself flat on the ground, and crawled towards it, pushing my gun before me, amid burs and mud-holes, until I reached the distance of about seventy-five yards from it, when I stopped to observe its attitudes. The bird did not notice me; he stood on a lump of flesh, tearing it to pieces, in the manner of a Vulture, until he had nearly swallowed the whole. Being now less occupied, he spied me, erected the feathers of his neck, and, starting up, flew away, carrying the remainder of his prey _in his talons_. I shot a second time, and probably touched him; for he dropped his burden, and made off in a direct course across the St Sebastian River, with alternate sailings and flappings, somewhat in the manner of a Vulture, but more gracefully. He never uttered a cry, and I followed him wistfully with my eyes until he was quite out of sight.

The following day the bird returned, and was again among the Vultures, but at some distance from the carcass, the birds having been kept off by the dogs. I approached by the ditch, saw it very well, and watched its movements, until it arose, when once more I shot, but without effect. It sailed off in large circles, gliding in a very elegant manner, and now and then diving downwards and rising again.

Two days elapsed before it returned. Being apprised by a friend of this desired event, instead of going after it myself, I dispatched my assistant, who returned with it in little more than half an hour. I immediately began my drawing of it. The weather was sultry, the thermometer being at 89°; and, to my surprise, the vivid tints of the plumage were fading much faster than I had ever seen them in like circumstances, insomuch that Dr BELL of Dublin, who saw it when fresh, and also when I was finishing the drawing twenty-four hours after, said he could scarcely believe it to be the same bird. How often have I thought of the changes which I have seen effected in the colours of the bill, legs, eyes, and even the plumage of birds, when looking on imitations which I was aware were taken from stuffed specimens, and which I well knew could not be accurate! The _skin_, when the bird was quite recent, was of a bright yellow. The bird was extremely lousy. Its stomach contained the remains of a bullfrog, numerous hard-shelled worms, and a quantity of horse and deer-hair. The _skin_ was saved with great difficulty, and its plumage had entirely lost its original lightness of colouring. The deep red of the fleshy parts of the head had assumed a purplish livid hue, and the spoil scarcely resembled the coat of the living Eagle.

I made a double drawing of this individual, for the purpose of shewing all its feathers, which I hope will be found to be accurately represented.

Since the period when I obtained the specimen above mentioned, I have seen several others, in which no remarkable differences were observed between the sexes, or in the general colouring. My friend Dr BENJAMIN STROBEL, of Charleston, South Carolina, who has resided on the west coast of Florida, procured several individuals for the Reverend JOHN BACHMAN, and informed me that the species undoubtedly breeds in that part of the country, but I have never seen its nest. It has never been seen on any of the Keys along the eastern coast of that peninsula; and I am not aware that it has been observed any where to the eastward of the Capes of Florida.

The most remarkable difference with respect to habits, between these birds and the American Vultures, is the power which they possess of carrying their prey in their talons. They often walk about, and in the water, in search of food, and now and then will seize on a frog or a very young alligator with their claws, and drag it to the shore. Like the Vultures, they frequently spread their wings towards the sun, or in the breeze, and their mode of walking also resembles that of the Turkey Buzzard.

POLYBORUS VULGARIS, _Vieillot_, Galerie des Ois. pl. vii.

FALCO BRASILIENSIS, _Gmel._ Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 262.—_Lath._ Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p. 21.

CARACARA, _Raii_, Synops. p. 17.—CARACARA ORDINAIRE, _Cuv._ Regne Animal, vol. i. p. 328.

BRAZILIAN KITE, _Lath._ Synops. vol. i. p. 63.

Adult Male. Plate CLXI. Two figures.

Bill rather long, very deep, much compressed, cerate for one-half of its length; upper mandible with the dorsal outline nearly straight, but declinate for half its length, curved in the remaining part, the ridge narrow, the sides flat and sloping, the sharp edges slightly undulated, the tip declinate, trigonal; lower mandible with the sides nearly erect, the back rounded, the tip narrow, and obliquely rounded. Nostrils oblong, oblique, in the fore and upper parts of the cere. Head of moderate size, flattened; neck rather short, body rather slender. Feet rather long and slender; tarsus rounded, covered all round with hexagonal scales, the anterior much larger, and the five lower broad and transverse; toes of moderate size, scutellate above, the inner scaly at the base; the outer is connected with the middle-toe, at the base by a web, as is the inner, although its web is smaller; lateral toes equal, middle one considerably longer, hind-toe shortest, and not proportionally stronger; claws long, arched, roundish, tapering to a point.

Plumage compact, slightly glossed. Upper eye-lid with short strong bristles; space before the eye, cheeks, throat, and cere of both mandibles, bare, having merely a few scattered bristly feathers. Feathers of the head, neck, and breast narrow; of the back broad and rounded; outer tibial feathers elongated, but shorter than in most Hawks. Wings long, reaching to within two inches of the tip of the tail; primaries tapering, secondaries broad and rounded, with an acumen; the fourth quill longest, third scarcely shorter, first and seventh about equal; almost all the primaries are more or less sinuate on their inner webs, and the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth on their outer. Tail long, rounded, of twelve broadish, rounded feathers. There is a large bare space on the breast, as in the Turkey Buzzard.

Bill pale blue, yellow on the edges, cere carmine. Iris dark-brown. Feet yellow; claws black. Upper part of the head umber-brown, streaked with brownish-black. Feathers of hind-neck and fore part of the back light brownish-yellow, mottled with dark brown towards the end. Back and wings dark brown, edged with umber. Primaries and some of the secondaries barred with broad bands of white, excepting towards the end. Tail coverts dull-white, slightly barred with dusky. Tail greyish-white, with sixteen narrow bars, and a broad terminal band of blackish-brown, the tips lighter. Fore part and sides of the neck light brownish-yellow; the fore part of the breast marked like that of the back, the yellow colour extending over the lateral part of the neck; the hind part, abdomen, sides, and tibia dark brown; the lower tail-coverts yellowish-white. Interior of mouth and skin of the whole body bright yellow.

Length 23½ inches, extent of wings 4 feet; bill along the ridge 2¼, the cere being 1, along the edge 2¼; tarsus 3¼, middle-toe and claw 3¾.

THE ZENAIDA DOVE.

_COLUMBA ZENAIDA_, BONAP.

PLATE CLXII. MALE AND FEMALE.

The impressions made on the mind in youth, are frequently stronger than those at a more advanced period of life, and are generally retained. My Father often told me, that when yet a child, my first attempt at drawing was from a preserved specimen of a dove, and many times repeated to me that birds of this kind are usually remarkable for the gentleness of their disposition, and that the manner in which they prove their mutual affection, and feed their offspring, was undoubtedly intended in part to teach other beings a lesson of connubial and parental attachment. Be this as it may, hypothesis or not, I have always been especially fond of doves. The timidity and anxiety which they all manifest, on being disturbed during incubation, and the continuance of their mutual attachment for years, are distinguishing traits in their character. Who can approach a sitting dove, hear its notes of remonstrance, or feel the feeble strokes of its wings, without being sensible that he is committing a wrong act?

The cooing of the Zenaida Dove is so peculiar, that one who hears it for the first time naturally stops to ask, "What bird is that?" A man who was once a pirate assured me that several times, while at certain wells dug in the burning shelly sands of a well known Key, which must here be nameless, the soft and melancholy cry of the doves awoke in his breast feelings which had long slumbered, melted his heart to repentance, and caused him to linger at the spot in a state of mind which he only who compares the wretchedness of guilt within him with the happiness of former innocence, can truly feel. He said he never left the place without increased fears of futurity, associated as he was, although I believe by force, with a band of the most desperate villains that ever annoyed the navigation of the Florida coasts. So deeply moved was he by the notes of any bird, and especially by those of a dove, the only soothing sounds he ever heard during his life of horrors, that through these plaintive notes, and them alone, he was induced to escape from his vessel, abandon his turbulent companions, and return to a family deploring his absence. After paying a parting visit to those wells, and listening once more to the cooings of the Zenaida Dove, he poured out his soul in supplications for mercy, and once more became what one has said to be "the noblest work of God," an honest man. His escape was effected amidst difficulties and dangers, but no danger seemed to him to be compared with the danger of one living in the violation of human and divine laws, and now he lives in peace in the midst of his friends.

The Zenaida Dove is a transient visitor of the Keys of East Florida. Some of the fishermen think that it may be met with there at all seasons, but my observations induce me to assert the contrary. It appears in the islands near Indian Key about the 15th of April, continues to increase in numbers until the month of October, and then returns to the West India Islands, whence it originally came. They begin to lay their eggs about the first of May. The males reach the Keys on which they breed before the females, and are heard cooing as they ramble about in search of mates, more than a week before the latter make their appearance. In autumn, however, when they take their departure, males, females, and young set out in small parties together.

The flight of this bird resembles that of the little Ground Dove more than any other. It very seldom flies higher than the tops of the mangroves, or to any considerable distance at a time, after it has made choice of an island to breed on. Indeed, this species may be called a Ground Dove too; for, although it alights on trees with ease, and walks well on branches, it spends the greater portion of its time on the ground, walking and running in search of food with lightness and celerity, carrying its tail higher than even the Ground Dove, and invariably roosting there. The motions of its wings, although firm, produce none of the whistling sound, so distinctly heard in the flight of the Carolina Dove; nor does the male sail over the female while she is sitting on her eggs, as is the habit of that species. When crossing the sea, or going from one Key to another, they fly near the surface of the water; and, when unexpectedly startled from the ground, they remove to a short distance, and alight amongst the thickest grasses or in the heart of the low bushes. So gentle are they in general, that I have approached some so near that I could have touched them with my gun, while they stood intently gazing on me, as if I were an object not at all to be dreaded.

Those Keys which have their interior covered with grass and low shrubs, and are girt by a hedge of mangroves, or other trees of inferior height, are selected by them for breeding; and as there are but few of this description, their places of resort are well known, and are called Pigeon or "_Dove Keys_." It would be useless to search for them elsewhere. They are by no means so abundant as the White-headed Pigeons, which place their nest on any kind of tree, even on those whose roots are constantly submersed. Groups of such trees occur of considerable extent, and are called "Wet Keys."

The Zenaida Dove always places her nest on the ground, sometimes artlessly at the foot of a low bush, and so exposed that it is easily discovered by any one searching for it. Sometimes, however, it uses great discrimination, placing it between two or more tufts of grass, the tops of which it manages to bend over, so as completely to conceal it. The sand is slightly scooped out, and the nest is composed of slender dried blades of grass, matted in a circular form, and imbedded amid dry leaves and twigs. The fabric is more compact than the nest of any other pigeon with which I am acquainted, it being sufficiently solid to enable a person to carry the eggs or young in it with security. The eggs are two, pure white, and translucent. When sitting on them, or when her young are still small, this bird rarely removes from them, unless an attempt be made to catch her, which she however evades with great dexterity. On several occasions of this kind, I have thought that the next moment would render me the possessor of one of these doves alive. Her beautiful eye was steadily bent on mine, in which she must have discovered my intention, her body was gently made to retire sidewise to the farther edge of her nest, as my hand drew nearer to her, and just as I thought I had hold of her, off she glided with the quickness of thought, taking to wing at once. She would then alight within a few yards of me, and watch my motions with so much sorrow, that her wings drooped, and her whole frame trembled as if suffering from intense cold. Who could stand such a scene of despair? I left the mother to her eggs or offspring.

On one occasion, however, I found two young birds of this species about half grown, which I carried off, and afterwards took to Charleston, in South Carolina, and presented to my worthy friend the Rev. JOHN BACHMAN. When I robbed this nest, no parent bird was near. The little ones uttered the usual lisping notes of the tribe at this age, and as I put their bills in my mouth, I discovered that they might be easily raised. They were afterwards fed from the mouth with Indian corn meal, which they received with avidity, until placed under the care of a pair of common tame pigeons, which at once fostered them.

The cooing of this species so much resembles that of the Carolina Dove, that, were it not rather soft, and heard in a part of the world where the latter is never seen, you might easily take it for the notes of that bird. Morning is the time chosen by the Zenaida Dove to repeat her tender tales of love, which she does while perched on the low large branch of some tree, but never from the ground. Heard in the wildest solitudes of the Keys, these notes never fail to remind one that he is in the presence and under the protection of the Almighty Creator.

During mid-day, when the heat is almost insufferable in the central parts of the Keys resorted to by these birds, they are concealed and mute. The silence of such a place at noon is extremely awful. Not a breath of air is felt, nor an insect seen, and the scorching rays of the sun force every animated being to seek for shelter and repose.

From what I have said of the habits of the Zenaida Dove, you may easily conceive how difficult a task it is to procure one. I have had full experience of the difficulty, and entire satisfaction in surmounting it, for in less than an hour, with the assistance of Captain DAY, I shot nineteen individuals, the internal and external examination of which enabled me to understand something of their structure.

The flesh is excellent, and they are generally very fat. They feed on grass seeds, the leaves of aromatic plants, and various kinds of berries, not excepting those of a tree which is extremely poisonous,—so much so, that if the juice of it touch the skin of a man, it destroys it like aqua-fortis. Yet these berries do not injure the health of the birds, although they render their flesh bitter and unpalatable for a time. For this reason, the fishermen and wreckers are in the habit of examining the crops of the doves previous to cooking them. This, however, only takes place about the time of their departure from the Keys, in the beginning of October. They add particles of shell or gravel to their food.

From my own observations, and the report of others, I am inclined to believe that they raise only two broods each season. The young, when yet unfledged, are of a deep leaden or purplish-grey colour, the bill and legs black, nor is it until the return of spring that they attain their full plumage. The male is larger than the female, and richer in the colouring of its plumage. Their feathers fall off at the slightest touch, and like all other pigeons, when about to die, they quiver their wings with great force.

The branch on which I have represented these birds, belonged to a low shrub abundant in the Keys where they are found. The flower has a musty scent, and is of short duration.

This species resorts to certain wells, which are said to have been dug by pirates, at a remote period. There the Zenaida Doves and other birds are sure to be seen morning and evening. The loose sand thrown up about these wells suits them well to dust in, and clean their apparel.

COLUMBA ZENAIDA, _Ch. Bonaparte_, Synops. of Birds of the United States, p. 119, and Amer. Ornith. vol. ii. pl. 15. fig. 2. —_Nuttall_, Manual,