The Audubon Reader (19 page)

Although the Least Bittern is not unfrequently started in salt marshes, it gives a decided preference to the borders of ponds, lakes or bayous of fresh water, and it is in secluded situations of this kind that it usually forms its
nest. This is sometimes placed on the ground amid the rankest grasses, but more frequently it is attached to the stems several inches above it. It is flat, composed of dried or rotten weeds and in shape resembles that of the
Louisiana Heron, although this latter employs nothing but sticks. The
eggs are three or four, seldom more, of a dull yellowish green, without spots, an inch and a quarter in length, almost equal at both ends.

When the
young are yet quite small their heads are covered with large tufts of reddish down, their bill is very short and they sit on
their rump with their legs extended on each side before their body in the manner of young
Herons. If disturbed when about two weeks old they leave the nest and scramble through the grass with celerity, clinging to the blades with their sharp claws whenever this is necessary. At a later period they seem to await the coming of their parents with impatience; and if no noise is made you may hear them calling continually in a low croaking
voice for half an hour at a time. As soon as they are able to fly they not unfrequently alight on the branches of trees to escape from their various enemies, such as
minxes and
water snakes, the latter of which destroy a good number of them.

In two instances I found the
nests of the Least Bittern about three feet above the ground in a thick cluster of smilax and other briary plants. In the first, two nests were placed in the same bush within a few yards of each other. In the other instance there was only one nest of this bird but several of the
Boat-tailed Grackle and one of the
Green Heron, the occupants of all of which seemed to be on friendly terms. When startled from the nest the old birds emit a few notes resembling the syllable
qua
, alight a few yards off and watch all your movements. If you go towards them you may sometimes take the female with the hand but rarely the male, who generally flies off or makes his way through the woods. Its ordinary cry, however, is a rough croak resembling that of the
Great Blue Heron but much weaker.

The
flight of this bird is apparently weak by day, for then it seldom removes to a greater distance than a hundred yards at a time and this, too, only when frightened in a moderate degree, for if much alarmed it falls again among the grass in the manner of the Rail; but in the dusk of the evening and morning I have seen it passing steadily along at the height of fifty yards or more with the neck retracted and the legs stretched out behind in the manner of the larger Herons. On such occasions it uttered at short intervals its peculiar cry and continued its flight until out of sight. Several individuals were together and I imagined them to be proceeding in search of breeding grounds or on a migratory expedition. When disturbed by day they fly with extended neck and dangling legs and are easily shot, as their course is generally direct and their flight slow. When walking it shoots its head forward at every step
as if about to thrust its bill into some substance; and if you attempt to lay hold of it when disabled it is apt to inflict a painful wound.

The
food of this bird consists of snails, slugs, tadpoles or young frogs and water lizards. In several instances, however, I have found small shrews and field mice in their stomach. Although more nocturnal than diurnal, it moves a good deal about by day in search of food. About noon, being doubtless much fatigued, they are not unfrequently observed standing erect on one foot and so soundly asleep as to be easily knocked down or even caught by the hand if cautiously approached. This very remarkable habit of both our species of Bittern has brought upon them the charge of extreme
stupidity
, whence the name of
Butor
[i.e., lout] given to them by the Creoles of Louisiana. Whether or not this term be appropriate to the case I leave for you to determine; but my opinion is that the animal truly deserving to be called stupid yet remains to be discovered, and that the quality designated by that epithet occurs nowhere else than among the individuals of that species which so thoughtlessly applies the opprobrium.

[The Least Bittern,
Ixobrychus exilis
, appears in Plate 210 of
The Birds of America
.]

Doubtless, kind reader, you will say while looking at the seven figures of Parakeets represented in the plate that I spared not my labor. I never do, so anxious am I to promote your pleasure.

These birds are represented feeding on the plant commonly named the
cocklebur
. It is found much too plentifully in every state west of the Alleghenies and in still greater profusion as you advance towards the Southern districts. It grows in every field where the soil is good. The low alluvial lands along the Ohio and Mississippi are all supplied with it. Its growth is so measured that it ripens after the crops of grain are usually secured, and in some rich old fields it grows so exceedingly close that to make one’s way through the patches of it at this late period is no pleasant task. The burs stick so thickly to the clothes as to prevent a person from walking with any kind of ease. The wool of sheep is also much injured by them; the tails and manes of horses are converted into such tangled masses that the hair has to be cut close off, by which the natural beauty of these valuable animals is impaired. To this day no useful property has been discovered in the cocklebur, although in time it may prove as valuable either in medicine or chemistry as many other plants that had long been considered of no importance.

Well, reader, you have before you one of these plants, on the seeds of which the parrot feeds. It alights upon it, plucks the bur from the stem with its bill, takes it from the latter with one foot in which it turns it over until the joint is properly placed to meet the attacks of the bill, when it bursts it open, takes out the fruit and allows the shell to drop. In this manner a flock of these birds, having discovered a field ever so well filled with these plants, will
eat or pluck off all their seeds, returning to the place day after day until hardly any are left. The plant might thus be extirpated, but it so happens that it is reproduced from the ground, being perennial, and our farmers have too much to do in securing their crops to attend to the pulling up the cockleburs by the roots, the only effectual way of getting rid of them.

The Parrot does not satisfy himself with cockleburs but eats or destroys almost every kind of fruit indiscriminately, and on this account is always an unwelcome visitor to the planter, the farmer or the gardener. The stacks of grain put up in the field are resorted to by flocks of these birds, which frequently cover them so entirely that they present to the eye the same effect as if a brilliantly colored carpet had been thrown over them. They cling around the whole stack, pull out the straws and destroy twice as much of the grain as would suffice to satisfy their hunger. They assail the pear and apple trees when the fruit is yet very small and far from being ripe, and this merely for the sake of the seeds. As on the stalks of corn, they alight on the apple trees of our orchards or the pear trees in the gardens in great numbers; and as if through mere mischief, pluck off the fruits, open them up to the core and, disappointed at the sight of the seeds, which are yet soft and of a milky consistence, drop the apple or pear and pluck another, passing from branch to branch until the trees which were before so promising are left completely stripped like the ship waterlogged and abandoned by its crew, floating on the yet agitated waves after the tempest has ceased. They visit the mulberries, pecan-nuts, grapes and even the seeds of the dogwood before they are ripe and on all commit similar depredations. The maize alone never attracts their notice.

Do not imagine, reader, that all these outrages are borne without severe retaliation on the part of the planters. So far from this, the Parakeets are destroyed in great numbers, for whilst busily engaged in plucking off the fruits or tearing the grain from the stacks, the husbandman approaches them with perfect ease and commits great slaughter among them. All the survivors rise, shriek, fly round about for a few minutes and again alight on the very place of most imminent danger. The gun is kept at work; eight or ten or even twenty are killed at every discharge. The living birds, as if conscious of the death of their companions, sweep over their bodies screaming as
loud as ever but still return to the stack to be shot at, until so few remain alive that the farmer does not consider it worth his while to spend more of his ammunition. I have seen several hundreds destroyed in this manner in the course of a few hours and have procured a basketful of these birds at a few shots in order to make choice of good specimens for drawing the figures by which this species is represented in the plate now under your consideration.

The
flight of the Parakeet is rapid, straight and continued through the forests or over fields and rivers, and is accompanied by inclinations of the body which enable the observer to see alternately their upper and under parts. They deviate from a direct course only when impediments occur such as the trunks of trees or houses, in which case they glance aside in a very graceful manner, merely as much as may be necessary. A general cry is kept up by the party, and it is seldom that one of these birds is on wing for ever so short a space without uttering its cry. On reaching a spot which affords a supply of food, instead of alighting at once as many other birds do, the Parakeets take a good survey of the neighborhood, passing over it in circles of great extent first above the trees and then gradually lowering until they almost touch the ground, when suddenly reascending they all settle on the tree that bears the fruit of which they are in quest or on one close to the field in which they expect to regale themselves.

They are quite at ease on trees or any kind of plant, moving sidewise, climbing or hanging in every imaginable posture, assisting themselves very dexterously in all their motions with their bills. They usually alight extremely close together. I have seen branches of trees as completely covered by them as they could possibly be. If approached before they begin their plundering they appear shy and distrustful, and often at a single cry from one of them the whole take wing and probably may not return to the same place that day. Should a person shoot at them as they go and wound an individual, its cries are sufficient to bring back the whole flock, when the sportsman may kill as many as he pleases. If the bird falls dead they make a short round and then fly off.

On the ground these birds walk slowly and awkwardly as if their tail incommoded them. They do not even attempt to run off when approached by the sportsman, should he come upon them
unawares; but when he is seen at a distance they lose no time in trying to hide or in scrambling up the trunk of the nearest tree, in doing which they are greatly aided by their bill.

Their
roosting place is in hollow trees and the holes excavated by the larger species of
Woodpeckers as far as these can be filled by them. At dusk a flock of Parakeets may be seen alighting against the trunk of a large sycamore or any other tree when a considerable excavation exists within it. Immediately below the entrance the birds all cling to the bark and crawl into the hole to pass the night. When such a hole does not prove sufficient to hold the whole flock, those around the entrance hook themselves on by their claws and the tip of the upper mandible and look as if hanging by the bill. I have frequently seen them in such positions by means of a [spy]glass and am satisfied that the bill is not the only support used in such cases.

When wounded and laid hold of the Parakeet opens its bill, turns its head to seize and bite and, if it succeed, is capable of inflicting a severe wound. It is easily tamed by being frequently immersed in water and eats as soon as it is placed in confinement. Nature seems to have implanted in these birds a propensity to destroy, in consequence of which they cut to atoms pieces of wood, books and, in short, everything that comes in their way. They are incapable of articulating words, however much care and attention may be bestowed upon their education; and their screams are so disagreeable as to render them at best very indifferent companions. The woods are the habitation best fitted for them, and there the richness of their plumage, their beautiful mode of flight and even their screams, afford welcome intimation that our darkest forests and most sequestered swamps are not destitute of charms.

They are fond of sand in a surprising degree and on that account are frequently seen to alight in flocks along the gravelly banks about the creeks and rivers or in the ravines of old fields in the plantations, when they scratch with bill and claws, flutter and roll themselves in the sand and pick up and swallow a certain quantity of it. For the same purpose they also enter the holes dug by our
Kingfisher. They are fond of saline earth for which they visit the different licks interspersed in our woods.

Our Parakeets are very rapidly diminishing in number; and in
some districts where twenty-five years ago they were plentiful scarcely any are now to be seen. At that period they could be procured as far up the tributary waters of the Ohio as the
Great Kenhawa, the
Scioto, the heads of the Miami, the mouth of the Manimee at its junction with
Lake Erie, on the
Illinois River and sometimes as far northeast as
Lake Ontario and along the eastern districts as far as the boundary line between Virginia and Maryland. At the present day very few are to be found higher than Cincinnati, nor is it until you reach the mouth of the Ohio that Parakeets are met with in considerable numbers. I should think that along the Mississippi there is not now half the number that existed fifteen years ago.