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Plate XV. – LOPHORTYX CALIFORNICA, Bonaparte. – The Valley Quail of California

The Valley Quail – so called in contradistinction to the Plumed or Mountain Quail, which inhabits hills and highlands – has an exceedingly limited range. It abounds in all the valleys of California and Oregon, both inland and maritime, but never in the forest-depths, nor on the mountain-tops, nor in the interior basin where there is a dearth of water and vegetation. In the spring of 1857 these birds were introduced into Washington Territory, on the grassy plains near Puget Sound, where they soon established themselves.

According to Dr. Cones, who has paid special attention to the distribution of our birds, the present species ranges from the Columbia River to Cape St. Lucas. In California it is chiefly restricted to the country west of the Sierra Nevada, which, with the Great Colorado Desert, is said to constitute an apparently impassable barrier between it and Gambel's Partridge – a very near relative. Up the mountains a higher elevation than three or four thousand feet is never known to be attained, the region beyond being occupied by the Mountain Quail.

Prairies and grain-fields, and thickets along the borders of streams, are noted places of resort. Coveys of from a dozen to a hundred or more individuals may be seen in such places, during the non-breeding season, busily employed in gleaning, or in some sort of diversion. Although comparatively tame, and permitting a very near approach, yet when disturbed, they betake themselves to the bushes or trees. When to the latter, they squat so closely along the branches, as to escape the keen sight of pursuers. It will not lie to a dog, as our Eastern species is wont to do, but runs until driven to seek safety in flight.

Throughout California these birds are often domesticated, and made to consort with the common barnyard fowl. A similar practice might be tried in the East with happy results. That it would succeed, there can be no reasonable doubt. A few years ago, an attempt was made to introduce them into Long Island, which was only partially successful. But the demands of New York epicures soon led to their extermination.

The season of flocking being over, which continues from the first of September until about the middle of May, as nearly as we can ascertain, the coveys break up into pairs, and mating is about to commence. This important event is heralded by certain peculiar cries which the male-birds emit while sitting upon a stump or prostrate log in the midst of the surrounding verdure. These notes are very strange, and may be likened to the harsh and disagreeable tones of some of the Woodpeckers. "They may be aptly represented," says Dr. Newberry, "by the syllables kûck-kuck-kûck-kâ, the first three notes being rapidly repeated, the last prolonged with a falling inflection."

Language can hardly describe the actions of the males during these times. While some may be seen strutting along some fallen log, or gesticulating overhead on the motionless tree-branches, others, less lofty in their aspirations, move with dignified demeanor in and out the bushes, untrammeled by interlacing grasses. All, however, seem animated by one common impulse – the admiration and favor of birds less beautiful, perhaps, but more modest, than themselves.

It is a charming sight, and one ever to be remembered, to watch these enamored birds as they press their several suits. The stately tread, erect but comely carriage, waving plumes, quivering wings, and flashing eyes, bespeak the proud consciousness of superior worth and vigor. The beautiful bird glances defiantly about him, and challenges loudly for a rival. Again, he throws down the gauntlet, but none appears to take it up. He may now retire; his rights are proven.

But hid away in leafy bower, a gentler being watches his movements, admires his bearing, and fascinated by the courage she sees displayed, hopes that the next movement may bring him to her side, but dreading lest it may. At length their eyes meet, she trembles and attempts to fly, but cannot. Another look; he reads the secret of her heart, and with one loud, exultant cry, flies straight to her, curtsies low, and with wing half-spread above her, whispers softly in her ear the story of his love. She listens, but draws away. He pleads once more. She stands irresolute. Again he makes the attempt. This time with all the eloquence of his being. He conquers, and what a joy is his!

The trial over, the prize secured, the delighted lover, proud of his bride, showers upon her the rich fruitage of his love, guards her with jealous care, and seeks by every means in his power to add to her comfort and happiness. A few days thus spent, and the wedded couple, conscious of the sense of responsibility which attaches to them, cast about for a suitable spot for a home. They search through the tall, rank herbage, among piles of driftwood that lie scattered about, under fallen cacti, or in the shadow of jasmine bushes, and at length make up their minds. Where none of these are to be found, they do not hesitate to take to an open field. Little more is needed than to fix upon a spot, for the nest is far from an elaborate affair, being aught else than a collection of loose, dry grasses arranged without much care. In many instances, even these articles are dispensed with. The Plate represents the ordinary style of nest, containing a set of thirteen eggs drawn to the natural size. On the left of the picture may be seen the male, which differs from the female in his more brilliant and vivid colors, both being placed in the background.

Having finished her simple domicile, or rather having chosen a spot, for laying – for in the generality of cases no nest whatever is made – the female deposits day after day the eggs which are to constitute her complement. These are said to be from twelve to sixteen in number. When not pressed to lay, she rambles about with her lord, in close company, until compelled to take the nest. She now abandons all recreation, becomes sober and maternal, and sets about her duty in earnest. But she is not forgotten because she cannot enter into his idle amusements. Mounted upon some bush or log which projects above the nest, he stands watch, or solaces her weary moments with his best music. This ditty, though far from being harmonious, is presumably satisfactory to the one concerned. The time spent in incubation lasts for two weeks or more, until feeble cries are heard from the nest. The mother-bird now dries and cuddles the queer little beings, and the happy parents soon lead them off in quest of food. When the young are disturbed by human foes, the male-bird utters a sharp pit, resembling the common note of the Cardinal Grosbeak, which is doubtless the signal for flight.

The eggs of this Quail differ somewhat in size, and also in ornamentation. The ground-color is usually a creamy-white. The markings sometimes occur in the form of freckles, at other times in large scattered spots, and frequently in the form of confluent blotches. Their colors pass from a uniform shading of olivaceous-drab, through a rusty-drab, into a chestnut-brown. All the specimens that we have seen are sharply defined at one extremity and rounded at the other. In a set of fourteen eggs before us, the largest measures 1.32 by 1.00 inches; the smallest 1.13 in length and .97 in breadth. The average size is 1.23 by .98 inches. From the number of eggs sometimes found in a nest, it becomes a question whether birds, severely pressed, may not sometimes lay in nests not their own. We have no positive information that this does happen, but observation renders it highly probable that such is the case with the Virginia Quail, and, also, with some other birds. But however this may be, it is tolerably certain that broods of young sometimes coalesce after hatching. It has even been inferred that several females belong to one male, and with their varying broods run together.

Plate XVI. – REGULUS SATRAPA, Licht. – Golden-crowned Kinglet

The Golden-crowned Kinglet, or Wren, ranges over nearly the entire continent of North America, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and northward from Texas and New Mexico to Sitka on the west, where it seems to replace the Ruby-crown. On our eastern seaboard it doubtless attains as high a latitude. Audubon claims to having found it nesting in Newfoundland, and Baedecker, in Labrador, but recent travelers have certainly not encountered its presence during the breeding-period in those parts, since they have left no record of such occurrence.

In the United States, until recently, it was generally supposed to be a migrant; arriving pretty punctually in October, just as autumn is merging into winter, and remaining till May. But the past five or six years have let in new light upon its history, and shown, what had already been surmised, that it would be found to breed in the coniferous forests, and mountainous regions toward our northern border.

Our knowledge of the species is limited, and is mainly restricted to its habits during its long stay with us from October to May. Every one who has left the shadow of home, and strayed out into the fields and woods, or along the margins of ice-bound streams and ponds, must have had his attention directed to its cries as it flitted from tree to tree in search of food. At such times, the sexes remain apart, or but occasionally come together. Although shunning, rather than courting each other's society, their casual meeting is not the harbinger of contention, but is either tacitly acknowledged, or passed by unnoticed. While there seems to be an indisposition to mingle, yet evidence is not wanting to show that society of some kind is not wholly disagreeable. Either sex manifests, or seems to manifest, some regard for the Black-capped Titmouse. Wherever you discover the one, you are pretty sure to find the other. This occurrence does not appear to be accidental, but rather to be dictated by a desire for company, or by actual necessity.

Although evincing a decided partiality for Nature in her wildness, on warm, sunshiny days in mid-winter our little friend may frequently be seen climbing about our trees after the fashion of a Creeper, or standing beside our doors in anxious expectation of receiving his share of crumbs from the table. He is now the very impersonation of fearlessness, and conducts himself with all the familiarity of a long-tried friend.

But as spring returns, a peculiar cry greets the ear, louder and more frequent than usual. Tsi-tsi-tsi comes from wood and glen, from stream and hollow. Once heard, these syllables can never be forgotten, for they are uttered in a running, pleasing rhythm, and with a gently-rising intonation, and seem indicative of joy and satisfaction. But as the season for departure arrives, these sounds give place to others of a more agreeable character. Even in the heart of winter this music may be heard. Perhaps some precious reminiscence of the past has arisen in the memory to evoke this flood of song.

Full of expectancy and unrest, about the middle of May – often earlier, seldom later – the little Golden-crown wings its flight to other scenes. Of the exact time, we know nothing. It does not stop to bid us an affectionate adieu, but is gone before we are hardly aware of the blank which it has left. Its return is as unheralded and mysterious. To-day we admire its graceful actions, sprightly ditty and beautiful plumage. To-morrow we search the old haunts, feeling almost confident that it must be lurking somewhere about, but to be doomed to disappointment. Occasionally our patience is rewarded by finding a couple of individuals, who have either lost their reckoning, or have made up their minds to spend the summer at home. But the most of their fellows still follow the path which their ancestors have so long trodden.

While some follow the stretch of country between our two great western mountain systems, and breed in Washington Territory and the country to the northward, others forsake their winter-quarters, and travel in a northeasterly direction to the shores of Newfoundland and Labrador. A few, however, lag behind and find suitable summer resorts in the pine forests and Thuja swamps of New Hampshire and Maine. When our mountain regions and dense forests are better known, we hazard the opinion that many will be found to breed nearer home than we are aware. Paired individuals have often been met with along the hills of the Wissahickon, in Pennsylvania, during the breeding-season, which evidently had nests, but diligent search failed to reveal the fact.

Before the discovery of the nest of this species, the presumption was that it built a pensile nest, not unlike the European congener, and that it laid small eggs faintly sprinkled with buff-colored dots on a white background, but differing little in size from those of the common Humming-bird. It was also inferred that two broods were annually raised, from the fact that so much time was spent in its summer abode, and also because full-fledged young were found by Mr. Nuttall in May, on the Columbia, and in August, by Mr. Audubon, in Labrador.

According to Mr. J. K. Lord, who discovered this species to be very common in Vancouver's Island, and also along the entire boundary-line of Washington Territory and British Columbia, where it sometimes reaches an elevation of six thousand feet, it constructs a pensile nest, which it suspends from the extreme end of a pine-branch; and that it lays from five to seven eggs. The materials of the nest, and the color and dimensions of the eggs, were never described.

The world remained in ignorance of these matters until the summer of 1875, when Mr. H. D. Minot discovered, on the sixteenth day of July, a nest of this species. It was built in a forest of the White Mountains, which consisted chiefly of white birches and evergreens. The nest was securely fastened to the twigs of a spreading hemlock-bough, was globular in shape, and placed about four feet above the ground. The outside was composed of hanging moss and bits of dead leaves; the inside was chiefly lined with feathers. There can be no doubt as to the authenticity of this nest, as Mr. Minot observed the parents in the act of carrying food to their young, and was enabled to track them to their homes.

But the structure from which the drawing was made – found near Bangor, Maine – was presented to Mr. Harry Merrill, in the summer of 1876. It was placed about six feet from the ground in a mass of thick growth so peculiar to many of our fir trees, and is chiefly composed of moss on the outside, with a few small fragments of chips, and is lined with hair and feathers, the latter principally. The external diameter is four and a half inches, and depth outside nearly three inches. The opening is at the top, and measures about one and three-fourths inches across, and two in depth. Although the birds that built this nest were not seen by Mr. Merrill, yet by the pretty sure evidence of exclusion, they cannot belong to any other species than the one under consideration.

Of their habits while with young, our knowledge is small. It is evident, however, from what Mr. Minot says, that both parents supply their nestlings with food. Incubation is doubtless performed by them both, the female assuming the bulk of the labor. Unlike many species, these birds do not pass the breeding-season in silence, but keep up, with occasional intermissions, an animated twittering.

The eggs possibly range from six to ten in number. To the eye they appear of a cream-white color, apparently covered with minute spots. Under the microscope, the ground-color is white, with shell marks of purplish-slate, and a few obscure spots of a deep buff, rather superficial, to which their dirty tinge is probably due. The largest egg measures .52 of an inch in length, and .40 in width; the smallest,47 by .30 inches. The average dimensions of the ten eggs are .50 by .41 inches.

Plate XVII. – UTAMANIA TORDA, (Linn.), Leach. – Razor-billed Auk

The Razor-billed Auc, owing to its boreal residence, is not so well known as many other marine species which breed nearer home. Like its few intimate cousins, it is chiefly restricted to Arctic regions, only coming southward when pressed by severe weather.

Though apparently the best known of its family, yet many of the details of its habits are lacking to render its biography anything like complete. Of its area of distribution we are tolerably well-informed. In the north-eastern portions of North America, particularly along the sea-borders of Labrador and Newfoundland, it is quite plentiful, and thence occasionally strays along the coast-lines of New England and the Middle States during the winter. These birds, however, are not confined to this continent, but are identical with the bird of the northern regions of the Old World.

According to Mr. Cory, who has studied them in their haunts, they are remarkably abundant and prolific on some of the Magdalen Islands, Bird Rock and Byron Island especially, where the young birds were observed in their downy robes of black and white.

Visiting the United States only in small numbers during the inclemency of winter, its predilection for the northern homes of its fathers – when the mild breath of spring in its upward march from the South has tempered with mercy the reign of old Boreas in his rocky, ice-bound fastnesses – induces it to take its departure, and wend its longing flight thither.

There is not the slightest evidence, so far as our investigations have extended, to show that any attempts have ever been made to nest along the shores of this country. The fact that the species breeds on the islands in the Bay of Fundy, would seem to warrant the belief that they may yet be found to visit the coast of Maine for this purpose. There seems to be no good reason why they should not do so, as the maritime parts of this State are apparently as well adapted for nesting as the islands just mentioned.

Be this as it may, cool northern localities seem to be more advantageous, and there, along with the Guillemots as their neighbors, the subject of our sketch establishes his home and rears his little family.

In boreal regions where the amatory forces are not called into action as early as in more southern climes, by reason of the greater degrees of cold which prevail, the acquirement of food seems to exercise such a controlling influence over bird-nature, that all other duties are held under temporary restraint. Consequently, matrimonial relations are not entered into as early as in warmer latitudes. This essential business is delayed, and is only warmed into activity when the sun has reached the northern limits of its course.

About the beginning of June, there occurs a lull in foraging transactions, and the sexes become suddenly aware of the object of their creation. Mating is at once entered into, but with what appearance of show, we are unable to say.

Having attended to this duty, without further ado, they seek themselves out a spot in which to lay their egg or eggs. For this purpose a horizontal cavern or some exposed locality is generally chosen. But when they deposit their eggs along with the Guillemots, which they are occasionally disposed to do, they drop them in situations from which the water can escape without offering any material injury thereto.

In deep fissures, many birds lie together, and place their eggs upon small beds of pebbles or broken stones, which are raised a couple of inches or more, so that the water may readily pass beneath them. Here the eggs are scattered at distances of three or four inches from each other, and are incubated, as in the case of the Ducks, by the birds sitting flat upon them. Whereas, upon an exposed rock, each bird stands almost upright on its egg.

There yet remains a very strange fact concerning this Auk, which needs to be noted. It pertains to the number of eggs which is to constitute a nest-full. When nesting occurs in secluded situations, where security against tidal currents, and divers accidents, is to be gained, in the majority of instances, two eggs are found under a single female. In exposed situations, on the other hand, it is a rare occurrence to find more than one egg as a complement.

The above statements, which are substantially those of Audubon, have been repeatedly verified by other observers, some of whom are among the writer's most reliable correspondents. At first we were disposed to question their accuracy. We could not see what advantages a sequestered situation had over one that was open and exposed, so as to lead the birds to double their number in the former case. Our only way out of the difficulty then, was by supposing the two eggs to be laid by different birds, in close proximity to each other. For want of the necessary room to accommodate the two females, it became the duty of one or the other to assume the responsibility of them. Owing to the great difficulty of distinguishing the eggs of this species from those of the Murre or Foolish Guillemot, which most oologists have experienced, and which Audubon does not seem to have encountered, it occurred to us that as the Auks are prone to drop their eggs alongside of those of the Guillemots, maybe the two eggs were those of distinct species, and not the product of the one under consideration.

Without further mincing of matters, there does not seem to be any valid reason for doubting the authenticity of Audubon's statements. But as a true student of Nature, it is our duty to receive the facts, confirmed as they have been by subsequent observations, and seek an explanation thereof which will be both rational and philosophic.

In exposed situations, the eggs are subject to certain perils, such as exposures to storms and violent gusts of wind, which more retired places would guard against. The Auks have doubtless learned this as a lesson of experience. Perhaps, necessity only compels them to occupy such sites, when there is a scarcity of deep fissures and horizontal caverns, by reason of a superabundance of mated individuals. If one egg could be better protected and covered than two, which the nearly erect attitude of the bird would seem to warrant us in believing, some females would certainly not be slow in perceiving the advantages to be acquired. The experiment being tried by birds of unusual sagacity, and with happy results, in course of time all the others would be led to the practice of depositing a single egg. Furthermore, the laying of one egg, in case of breakage, would not be as severely felt as in cases where more than one constituted the complement. The habit of laying one egg in exposed situations, would doubtless be continued for a while at least, should the species so accustomed, ever be called upon to nest in places protected by the rocky munitions of Nature. And, on the other hand, birds habituated to nesting in sheltered situations, would for a while continue to deposit two eggs for a setting.

The eggs being laid, the female soon commences to incubate. This seems to be the exclusive labor of the sex. The fact that she plucks the feathers from her abdomen, forming one or two bare spots (according to the number which is to compose her complement) with a ridge of feathers between them, though circumstantial in character, is the only kind of evidence that we have to offer in support of our assertion. Of the precise time required for hatching, we have no knowledge. From the size of the egg, and the thickness of its shell, we reason from analogy that it cannot be less than twenty-four days. The female is not a constant sitter during the daytime, the heated pebbles on clear, sunshiny days supplying the necessary warmth during her absence. When the weather is cloudy, and even during the cool nights, she remains on the nest, the male, as a faithful husband, doubtless answering her calls for food, or keeping her company.

That these birds manifest true affection for each other cannot be denied. They may have a different way of showing it from what we are accustomed to see among our small land-birds, but we cannot speak with positiveness. But this much is undisputed, when one is killed, its mate does not desert it, but paddles around it, as if seeking the cause of its stillness. At such times, so absorbed does it become, whether from grief or wonder we cannot say, that it can easily be approached and knocked over with an oar.

The food of the Razor-bills consists of small fishes, roe, shrimps, various marine animals, and floating garbage, which they procure by diving and swimming, or pick up among the rocks which they frequent. The young doubtless subsist upon the same materials, which they receive from their parents, in small pieces, during their earliest life. But after they have passed the downy stage, and are thrown, in a measure, upon their own resources, they imitate the example of their parents.

So much like the eggs of the Foolish Guillemot or Murre, already mentioned, are those of this species, that it is impossible to discern a characteristic so peculiar and persistent as to enable us to distinguish them apart. The ground-color is generally a pure-white; but specimens are often met with which are cream-colored, and others, again, which are tinted with green. The spots and blotches are irregularly distributed, but chiefly about the middle and the larger end. Some are small and nearly round, others large and irregular. In color they show different shades of black and brown. In addition to these markings, there are others scattered over the egg, of an obscure-purple hue, which have the appearance of being beneath the outside of the shell. The eggs vary in shape; occasionally they are pyriform and ovoidal, and, at other times, decidedly ovate.

Their length is 3.19 inches, and breadth 2.13. In the Plate, the egg is figured the natural size, and placed upon the summit of a small pile of stones at the entrance to a cavern along a rocky seashore. The birds are reduced and put in the background, the idea being to show their form, as well as the arrangement of their plumage.