Part 11

I observed that when the young birds struck at me the movement was accompanied by a widening or bowing out of the sides of the lower mandible, and it is doubtless the same muscular effort which turns the pouch of the diving Pelican into a scoop net, as it were, with an elliptical ring.^{105}

By sunrise most of the fishers appeared to have departed, and at this time, whether because of the absence of so many of the adults or because it was their breakfast hour, a swarm of Fish Crows came from the mainland, apparently from both sides of the river, seeking what they might devour in the way of eggs or young Pelicans, and departing after several hours’ feasting.

About eight o’clock the fishers began to appear, coming, as they went, in dignified lines, which broke up as they reached the island, each bird going to its young. Then the outcry began, and the ensuing two hours were the noisiest of the day.

Pelicans are so well able to supply the wants of their families that, unlike smaller birds who bring to their ever-hungry broods only a mouthful at a time, they are not forced to feed their young at short intervals throughout the day, but the morning meal concluded, they do not again have to provide for their nestlings until afternoon. Immediately after breakfast, therefore, the parent birds went out into the bay to bathe, and the flapping of their wings as they dashed the water over themselves could be heard at a great distance. The bath concluded, the birds gathered in rows on the sand bars jutting out from the island, to vigorously preen their feathers, and doze in the sun; and then, at irregular intervals, bird after bird, prompted apparently purely by a love of exercise, or tempted by a possible resulting exhilaration, mounted slowly into the air until they had attained a great height, when, spreading their wings, they sailed majestically about on broad circles for hours at a time. I was at first inclined to connect this habit with the season of courtship, but observing several birds of the year, who had but recently learned to fly, join their elders, I came to the conclusion that the habit had no sexual significance, and was indulged in solely because the birds enjoyed it.

In the afternoon the fishing parties again started out, and after the resulting catch had been delivered to the clamoring young, the Pelican’s day’s work was concluded, and he betook himself to his favorite roost for the night. At dark a few Cormorants returned to the branches of a dead tree, a single Frigate, after carefully and repeatedly reconnoitering the situation, decided to take lodgings on a neighboring stub, and a Pelican Island day was ended.

Whether, as in the case of the Terns and Gannets previously mentioned, the Pelicans all return to their island on a certain day I can not say. Probably, however, the short duration of their migratory journey, and the fact that they come from both the north and the south, prevents them from joining many other birds _en route_. However, apparently most of the birds are warned at nearly the same time by a physiological change that the season has come for them to return to their nesting grounds. This is evidently in January, since in March a large number of the young on the island were found almost ready to fly, while some, as has been said, were already on the wing. There was, it is true, a great variation in the development of the young found, and indeed the birds were still laying, but I believe that the parents of these later broods had been robbed of their eggs by tourists.

A careful count yielded a total of 845 nests, which had evidently been built during the season, but only 251 of them were occupied. Most of the vacant nests were on the ground, and had been deserted by their tenants, who were now running about the island.

The 251 occupied nests contained eggs or young, as follows:

55 nests with 1 egg each; 63 „ „ 2 eggs „ 23 „ „ 3 „ „ 63 „ „ 1 young each; 46 „ „ 2 „ „ 1 nest „ 3 „ „

Incubation was found to be well advanced in eggs which were alone in their nest, showing either that one egg sometimes composes the set, or that the other eggs of the set had been destroyed. The fact that one nest was found with three young while twenty-three were found each containing three eggs, would indicate a high mortality among the young birds; and, indeed, no less than 94 dead young were counted. Most of these, however, were birds which were old enough to leave the nest, and death was doubtless due to the thoughtlessness of tourist visitors, who chase the young about until they fall from exhaustion, or are driven too far to find their way home.

Estimating the number of young birds which had left the 594 deserted nests at 891—which would be an average of one and a half birds to the nest—and adding two parent birds to each nest, we have 2,581 birds on wing and on foot. But this number is to be increased by the 152 young that were still in their nests, making the probable total population of Pelican Island 2,736. This calculation, however, does not take into account the eggs, from which almost hourly came new inhabitants of the island; and it is with these eggs, or rather with the nest in which they are placed, that we may begin a brief outline of the young Pelican’s development.

The Pelican, although a low type of bird, is altricial, the young, unlike the offspring of Gulls, Ducks, or Snipe, being hatched in a helpless condition. The nest, therefore, is not only an incubator where with heat from the parent bird the eggs are hatched, but it is a cradle for the young. Consequently, Pelicans’ nests are unusually complicated structures as compared with the dwellings of other birds equally low in the evolutionary scale.

There was a very interesting and constant relation between the character of the nest and its site, ground nests being composed largely or entirely of long grasses, while those nests which were placed in the trees were made of sticks and were lined with grasses, the nest proper being erected on a platform of larger sticks laid from crotch to crotch in the bushes in such a manner as to form a broad, firm foundation, though, structurally, it was not a part of the nest, which could be lifted without removing the platform.

[Illustration: 106. Newly hatched Pelicans. Ground nest.]

The difference between the nests of straw^{106} and those of sticks^{107} were so marked that it seems probable their makers regularly selected sites on the ground or in the trees respectively. Or, assuming that the same individuals might build a stick nest in the bushes one year and a straw nest on the ground the next, we have an unusual variation in the character of the nest of the same species. In the case of the Fish Hawks of Plumb Island the birds evinced an appreciation of the protection afforded them by the owner of the island by often placing their nests on the ground. Photographs of these nests, however, made by Dr. C. S. Allen, show that the birds employed as much material when nesting on the ground as when nesting in trees, the eggs on the ground being surrounded by a useless mass of large sticks. Certain of the birds, therefore, in response to new conditions, had chosen new nesting sites, but had not as yet made corresponding changes in the character of their nests.

When the nest is completed, as we have seen, from one to three eggs are laid. The period of incubation is probably about four weeks, and a careful listener may detect the presence of a hatching egg by the choking bark which the young Pelican begins to utter as soon as he has made an opening in the shell which holds him. When he has finally freed himself and appears in the world, he is about as unattractive a bit of bird life as can well be conceived.^{106} His dark, purple skin is perfectly naked, he is blind, and when he is deprived of shade provided by the brooding parent, he twists restlessly about in the nest, uttering the same choking bark with which he first greeted the light.

Even at this early age he displays one of the strong characteristics of the immature Pelican—a pugnacious disposition. Almost before his eyes are open he bites at his nest mates for apparently no other reason than that they come within reach of his bill. Soon his eyes open and within a few days a wonderful change begins to take place in his appearance.^{107} Little bunches of white down sprout all over his body, and, growing rapidly, transform the ugly, purple-black nestling into a snowy creature clad in softest down.

[Illustration: 107. Young Pelican in tree nest, showing first appearance of white down.]

At the same time he has been growing much stronger; he is able to sit up,^{108} his fighting abilities have greatly increased, and his voice, after passing through a rasping _k-r-r-r-ing_ stage, has become a high, piercing cry very closely resembling the scream of a child in extreme pain. Young Pelicans uttering this call chiefly made up the chorus one could hear all day and at intervals during the night on Pelican Island.

Pelicans of the same nest never seem to recover from the mutual enmity with which they begin life. Quarreling is the normal condition of affairs among the children of a Pelican family, and as they always scream loudest when fighting, one cause for the continuous uproar is evident. Another is the question of food, and just at this point I may pause a moment to describe the manner in which the young Pelicans are fed.

[Illustration: 108. Young Pelican, downy stage.]

So far as I know, Pelicans live wholly on fish, and the difference between the fare of a young Pelican and that of its parent is in the size of its finny food. I have seen fish twelve inches long in the throat of an old Pelican, while the pouch of a very young bird contained several fishes less than an inch in length.

It is plain to be seen, therefore, that when an old Pelican goes fishing for his family he must keep constantly in mind the size of his offspring and bring home little fish for little birds, larger fish for larger ones.

Immediately after the parent returns from its fishing expedition, the young cluster about it and the outcry begins. But the old one takes it very patiently, sitting quite still until ready to open its creel, as it were. Then he takes a stand if possible a little above the young, drops his lower bill with its pouch, when at once the young thrust in their heads to secure their morning’s catch. On one occasion I saw three half-grown Pelicans with their heads and necks entirely out of sight in the parent’s pouch, and all were prodding about so vigorously that one would have thought it would be damaged past mending.

Having been fed, one might suppose that for a time peace would reign in the Pelican household; but, after emptying their parent’s pouch, the young immediately begin to squabble over the contents of their own. Here is real cause for war, and they grasp each other by the bill and twist and turn like athletes in a test of strength, seldom, however, with serious results.

[Illustration: 109. Young Pelican, wing quills appearing.]

Returning to our sketch of the young Pelican’s growth: shortly after the acquisition of the white down, the wing feathers begin to grow. As yet the sprouting feathers are useless, but with them come strength and courage to leave the nest and to clamber about in search of the foes who perhaps have been mocking him for days, from their nest on an adjoining limb. In spite of his broadly webbed toes, he manages to climb about in the bushes with more or less ease;^{109} but in this climbing he is greatly aided by his bill. Indeed, if it were not for the safety hook made by the bill, head, and neck, many a young Pelican would have a premature tumble. As it is, this hook is often the only thing that saves him if he chances to lose his footing; catching by the bill and neck he hangs for a moment, and then, like a gymnast, hauls himself up by the aid of his toes.

[Illustration: 110. Young Pelicans, stage preceding flight.]

If the young Pelican’s home is on the ground, at this age he waddles about playing by himself or fighting all comers. He dabbles in the shallow water, filling his pouch with mud and water, bits of sticks, shells, and weeds; then dropping the point of his bill downward so that the mud and water ooze out, he carefully examines the remainder, piece by piece, as if to see whether it is palatable. Even when alone he sometimes loses his temper. I saw one evidently much annoyed by the appearance of a displaced feather in his wing, and in a vain effort to catch it he whirled about like a kitten chasing its own tail.

But the fast-growing wing plumes soon seem to be a source of inspiration, rather than of annoyance. The young Pelicans feel a new and strange power coming to them, and they stand in the nest and aimlessly wave their now nearly grown wings, until some day an impulse prompts them to spring into the air.^{110} The immediate result is a humiliating tumble, for Pelicans, unlike smaller birds, must learn to fly. Once on the ground he has a safer place to practice, and with a hop, skip, and a flap, he makes brave efforts to mount skyward. Finally he succeeds, and the awkward nestling becomes a creature of power and grace, sailing away on broad pinions to join its elders.

With this wonderful gift of flight comes a complete change in the Pelican’s character and behavior. From a noisy, quarrelsome fledgeling, whose days were passed in screaming and squabbling, he is transformed into a dignified, patriarchal-like bird so absolutely voiceless that I have never heard a wild Pelican utter a sound, nor do I know of any one who has; while in disposition he has become so peaceful that under the strongest provocation he shows no desire to protest.

Just what has influenced him—who can say? It is one of Nature’s mysteries. But let us hope that the same charm may be exerted on every noisy, quarrelsome creature.

INDEX

Audubon, J. J., 155.

Auk, Razorbilled, on Bird Rock, 167, 169; tameness of, 170; nesting of, 176; young of, 176. The, 154.

Bayberries, 26.

Bird-Lore, 9.

Bird photography, definition of, 1; scientific value of, 1, 34; charm of, 3, 39; outfit for, 6; methods of, 26.

Bird Rock, 130, 150, 152.

Birds, adult, photographing, 33. Young, photographing, 32; return of, to nesting ground, 192.

Bittern, American, 29, 70. Least, haunts of, 62; mode of progression of, 62; notes of, 63, 72; nest of, 65; protective mimicry of, 67; courage of, 68; eggs of, destroyed by Marsh Wren, 72; intelligence of, 75; eating eggs, 75.

Blackbird, Red-winged, 26, 69, 70, 94, 194.

Blinds, 23.

Bobolink, 95, 100, 194.

Bonaventure Island, 130, 138, 139, 141.

Bourque, Captain Peter, 164.

Brewster, William, 63, 103, 133, 160.

Bryant, Dr. Henry, 159.

Bryon Island, 152, 162.

Bulb, 21, 22.

Canadian Government, 189.

Cartier, Jacques, 154.

Cape Breton, 152.

Catbird, 37.

Cat-tails, 90.

Camera, uses of, 1–4; kinds of, 6. Hand, 8; Kearton’s, 7; long-focus, 7; reflecting, 8; twin-lens, 8; snap-shot, 8; dummy, 35; triumph of, 171.

Cameras used in Gulf of St. Lawrence, 133.

Cannon, 160.

Chickadee, tameness of, 47; in Central Park, 48; photographing, 49; alighting on hand, 51; nesting of, 52; habits of, when nesting, 53–55; young of, 57–61.

Chuck-will’s-widow, 146.

Civilization, effects of, on wild life, 128.

Clamp, ball-and-socket, 22, 24, 29.

Cliff photography, 25.

Climbers, 24.

Codfishing, 136.

Cormorants, Double-crested, 132.

Corncrake, 146.

Cornel, 142.

Crane, 85.

Crow, 65.

Dalhousie, 146.

Dark-cloth, 24.

Deer, 25.

Dogwood, 26.

Enlargements, photographic, 7, 12, 13.

Finch, Pine, 137.

Finders, 8.

Flash-light, 25.

Flicker, 14.

Food, photographing, 26.

Galapagos, 129.

Gallinule, Florida, 63, 69–71.

Gannets, on Bonaventure, 139, 143–145; destruction of, by Cartier, 154; described by Audubon, 157; killed for bait, 158; number of, 159; decrease of, 160; on Bird Bock, 171, 181–183; photographing, 187; fearlessness of, 187; manner of feeding, 187.

Grand Entry, 147.

Grebe, Pied-billed, 69, 70.

Gregory, J. U., 163.

Grosse Isle, 147.

Guillemots, 149.

Gulf of St. Lawrence, Bird Rocks of, 128, 129.

Gull, Black-backed, 147. Herring, on Percé Rock, 134; feeding in fields, 136; nesting on cliffs, 137; note of, 137.

Hackensack marshes, value of, 89; beauty of, 89; geological history of, 89; flowers of, 90, 92; animal life of, 93.

Haunts, photographing, 26.

Hawk, Marsh, 29–31, 92.

Hen, Heath, 109. Moor, 70. Water, 70.

Heron, Great Blue, killing of, 85; wildness of, 86; rookeries of, 86; nests of, 87. Night, rookery of, 76; call of, 77; protection of, 77; nests of, 78; food of, 78; limy deposits of, killing vegetation, 78; young of, 79; death of young of, 81; feeding by parents, 81; fall from nest, 81.

Home photography, 40.

Howe, R. II, Jr., 123.

Iconoscope, 8.

Inaccessible Island, 129.

Iris, 142.

Islands, preserving influences of, 108, 128.

Jay, Blue, 42.

Junco, 42, 137.

Kearton brothers, 7, 23, 25.

Kerguelen Island, 129.

Kittiwake, on Percé Rock, 133; calling, 172; on Bird Rock, 177; nests and young of, 177; number of, on Bird Rock, 183.

Lantern slides, 7.

Laysan Island, 129.

Lens, the, 10. Tests, 14–19.

Little Bird Rock, 153.

Loon, 70.

Lucas, F. A., 154.

Mackay, George II, 123, 192.

Magdalen Islands, 130, 146.

Marsh Birds, notes of, 70. Mallow, 92, 93. Mystery of, 70.

Maryland Yellow-throat, 29, 38.

Massachusetts: Boston, 42; Cambridge, 63; Martha’s Vineyard, 109; Muskeget, 109; Penikese, 108, 122–127; Weepeckets, 109; Wood’s Holl, 109.

Maynard, C. J., 160.

McKinlay, James, 146.

Migration, 27; speculations on origin of, 191–195.

Mirror, 24.

Mount St. Anne, 137.

Murre, Brünnich’s, 169; number of, on Bird Rock, 183. Common, 169; number of, on Bird Rock, 183. Ringed, 174. Eggs and young of, destroyed, 160, 161; on Bryon, 162; on Bird Rock, 167; tameness of, 170; eggs of, 174, 175; young of, 175; number of, on Bird Rock, 182.

Nests and Eggs, photographing, 28.

New Jersey: Englewood, 52; Hackensack Marshes, 89.

New York: Central Park, 48; Cayuga County, 65, 69, 86; Great Gull Island, 108; Long Island, 107.

Nuthatch, 42.

Oölogists, 65.

Owl, use of, in photographing birds, 37. Barred, 46. Screech, photographing, 44; calls of, 44, 45; food of, 45; manner of feeding of, 45; young of, 45. Short-eared, 49.

Pelican, Brown, 146; returning to Pelican Island, 192, 195; persecution of, 195, 196; daily habits of, 197–199, 202; pugnacity and calls of young of, 198, 190; flight of, 200; manner of fishing of, 201; pouch of, 201; number of, on Pelican Island, 204, 205; nesting of, 205–207; development and habits of young of, 207–213; feeding of, 210; voicelessness of adult of, 213. Island, 191–214.

Pennsylvania: Presque Isle, 64.

Percé, isolation of, 130; charm of, 135. Rock, 130; size of, 132; birds of, 132, 133, 135.

Petrel, Leach’s, on Bird Rock, 179; nesting of, 180; young of, 181; call of, 185; habits of, at night, 185.

Pictou, 146.

Plates, photographic, 22.

Puffins, on Bryon, 162; on Bird Rock, 169, 170; nesting, 177; ferocity of, 178; appearance of, 179; number of, on Bird Rock, 182.

Raven, 137.

Rail, Clapper, 70. Sora, 95, 100.

Razorbills, on Bird Rock, 167, 169; tameness of, 170; nesting of, 176; young of, 176; number of, on Bird Rock, 183.

Red Cedar, 26.

Reedbird, 26, 95.

Robin, 22, 191.

Rowley, John, 9.

Sable Island, 191.

Screen for nest photography, 31.

Seasons, photographing, 27.

Shelbourne, W. E., 149, 173.

Shiras, G. A., 25.

Shutter, curtain, 9; focal-plane, 9, 20; iris, 19; unicum, 15, 20.

Snow, photographing after, 41.

Sparrow, Fox, 149. House, photographing, 40, 43; notes of, 41; intelligence of, 40, 43. Ipswich, 191. Savanna, 137. Swamp, 95, 100. White-throated, 137, 142.

Swallow, Bank, 96. Barn, 96. Eave, 96. Rough-winged, 96. Tree, nesting site of, 29; range of, 96; in Hackensack marshes, 96; roosting habits of, 96; evening and morning flights of, 97–101; bathing in trees, 101; exhibiting procreative and nesting habits prematurely, 103; migration of, 104.

Tabor, E. G., 65.

Taker, Captain Hubbard, 151, 163, 186, 189.

Telephoto, 12, 17.

Tern, Arctic, 111. Common, 109; nesting of, 110, 112; action of colony of, 111; notes of, 111, 117; bravery of, 111; young of, 112–114, 118, 122, 125; returning to nest, 115; photographing, 116, 117; hearing of, 120; on sheep, 123. Roseate, on Weepeckets, 109, 110; note of, 111; on Penikese, 123.

Terns, uses of, 106; grace and beauty of, 106; destruction of, 107; on islands, 108; protection of, 108, 127.

Thrush, Wood, 39.

Towhee, 38.

Tree trunk, artificial, 23, 36.

Tripod, 22, 28.

Tubing, 22.

Twin-flower, 142.

Vireo, Red-eyed, 39. White-eyed, 39. Yellow-throated, 39.

Virginia: Cobb’s Island, 107.

Warbler, Blue-winged, 38. Chestnut-sided, 38.

Wild cherry, 26.

Wild rice, 92, 94.

Winter, feeding birds in, 42.

Woodcock, 26.

Woodpecker, Downy, 42.

Wren, Long-billed Marsh, 69, 72, 94.

THE END

------------------------------------------------------------------------

By FRANK M. CHAPMAN.

=Bird Studies with a Camera. With Introductory Chapters on the Outfit and Methods of the Bird Photographer.= By FRANK M. CHAPMAN, Assistant Curator of Vertebrate Zoölogy in the American Museum of Natural History; Author of “Handbook of Birds of Eastern North America” and “Bird-Life.” Illustrated with over 100 Photographs from Nature by the Author. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75.

Bird students and photographers will find that this book possesses for them a unique interest and value. It contains fascinating accounts of the habits of some of our common birds and descriptions of the largest bird colonies existing in eastern North America; while its author’s phenomenal success in photographing birds in Nature not only lends to the illustrations the charm of realism, but makes the book a record of surprising achievements with the camera. The book is practical as well as descriptive, and in the opening chapters the questions of camera, lens, plates, blinds, decoys, and other pertinent matters are fully discussed, making the work an admirable guide for the camera hunter.

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