The Audubon Reader (24 page)

The usual
flight of this bird more resembles that of the
Hirundo
urbica
of Linneus or that of the
Hirundo fulva
of Vieillot than the flight of any other species of Swallow; and although graceful and easy, cannot be compared in swiftness with that of the Barn Swallow. Yet the Martin is fully able to distance any bird not of its own genus. They are very expert at
bathing and
drinking while on the wing when over a large lake or river, giving a sudden motion to the hind part of the body as it comes into contact with the water, thus dipping themselves in it and then rising and shaking their body like a water spaniel to throw off the water. When intending to drink they sail close over the water with both wings greatly raised and forming a very acute angle with each other. In this position they lower the head, dipping their bill several times in quick succession and swallowing at each time a little water.

They alight with comparative ease on different trees, particularly willows, making frequent movements of the wings and tail as they shift their place in looking for leaves to convey to their
nests. They also frequently alight on the ground where notwithstanding the shortness of their legs they move with some ease, pick up a goldsmith or other insect and walk to the edges of puddles to drink, opening their wings, which they also do when on trees, feeling as if not perfectly comfortable.

These birds are extremely
courageous, persevering and tenacious of what they consider their right. They exhibit strong antipathies against cats, dogs and such other quadrupeds as are likely to prove dangerous to them. They attack and chase indiscriminately every species of Hawk, Crow or Vulture and on this account are much patronized by the husbandman. They frequently follow and tease an Eaglet until he is out of sight of the Martin’s box; and to give you an idea of their tenacity when they have made choice of a place in which to rear their young I shall relate to you the following occurrences.

I had a large and commodious house built and fixed on a pole for the reception of Martins in an enclosure near my house, where for some years several pairs had reared their young. One winter I also put up several small boxes with a view to invite Bluebirds to build nests in them. The Martins arrived in the spring and imagining these smaller apartments more agreeable than their own
mansion took possession of them after forcing the lovely Bluebirds from their abode. I witnessed the different conflicts and observed that one of the Bluebirds was possessed of as much courage as his antagonist, for it was only in consequence of the more powerful blows of the Martin that he gave up his house in which a nest was nearly finished, and he continued on all occasions to annoy the usurper as much as lay in his power. The Martin shewed his head at the entrance and merely retorted with accents of exultation and insult. I thought fit to interfere, mounted the tree on the trunk of which the Bluebird’s box was fastened, caught the Martin and clipped his tail with scissors in the hope that such mortifying punishment might prove effectual in inducing him to remove to his own tenement. No such thing; for no sooner had I launched him into the air than he at once rushed back to the box. I again caught him and clipped the tip of each wing in such a manner that he still could fly sufficiently well to procure food and once more set him at liberty. The desired effect, however, was not produced and as I saw the pertinacious Martin keep the box in spite of all my wishes that he should give it up, I seized him in anger and disposed of him in such a way that he never returned to the neighborhood.

At the house of a friend of mine in
Louisiana some Martins took possession of sundry holes in the cornices and there reared their young for several years, until the insects which they introduced to the house induced the owner to think of a reform. Carpenters were employed to clean the place and close up the apertures by which the birds entered the cornice. This was soon done. The Martins seemed in despair; they brought twigs and other materials and began to form nests wherever a hole could be found in any part of the building; but were so chased off that after repeated attempts, the season being in the meantime advanced, they were forced away and betook themselves to some Woodpeckers’ holes on the dead trees about the plantation. The next spring a house was built for them. The erection of such houses is a general practice, the Purple Martin being considered as a privileged pilgrim and the harbinger of spring.

The note of the Martin is not melodious but is nevertheless very pleasing. The twitterings of the male while courting the female are
more interesting. Its notes are among the first that are heard in the morning and are welcome to the sense of everybody. The industrious farmer rises from his bed as he hears them. They are soon after mingled with those of many other birds and the husbandman, certain of a fine day, renews his peaceful labors with an elated heart. The still more independent
Indian is also fond of the Martin’s company. He frequently hangs up a calabash on some twig near his camp, and in this cradle the bird keeps watch and sallies forth to drive off the vulture that might otherwise commit depredations on the deerskins or pieces of venison exposed to the air to be dried. The humbled
slave of the Southern states takes more pains to accommodate this favorite bird. The calabash is neatly scooped out and attached to the flexible top of a cane brought from the swamp, where that plant usually grows, and placed close to his hut. It is, alas! to him a mere memento of the freedom which he once enjoyed; and at the sound of the horn which calls him to his labor, as he bids farewell to the Martin, he cannot help thinking how happy he should be were he permitted to gambol and enjoy himself day after day with as much liberty as that bird. Almost every country tavern has a Martin box on the upper part of its signboard; and I have observed that the handsomer the box, the better does the inn generally prove to be.

All our cities are furnished with houses for the reception of these birds; and it is seldom that even lads bent upon mischief disturb the favored Martin. He sweeps along the streets, here and there seizing a fly, hangs to the eaves of the houses or peeps into them as he poises himself in the air in front of the windows or mounts high above the city soaring into the clear sky, plays with the string of the child’s kite, snapping at it as he swiftly passes with unerring precision or suddenly sweeps along the roofs, chasing off grimalkin, who is probably prowling in quest of his young.

In the Middle states the
nest of the Martin is built or that of the preceding year repaired and augmented eight or ten days after its arrival on about the 20th of April. It is composed of dry sticks, willow twigs, grasses, leaves, green and dry, feathers and whatever rags he meets with. The
eggs, which are pure white, are from four to six. Many pairs resort to the same box to breed and the little fraternity appear to live in perfect harmony. They rear two broods
in a season. The first comes forth in the end of May, the second about the middle of July. In Louisiana they sometimes have three broods. The male takes part of the labor of incubation and is extremely attentive to his mate. He is seen twittering on the box and frequently flying past the hole. His notes are at this time emphatical and prolonged, low and less musical than even his common
pews
. Their
food consists entirely of insects, among which are large beetles. They seldom seize the honeybee.

The circumstance of their leaving the United States so early in autumn, has inclined me to think that they must go farther from them than any of our migratory land birds …

[The Purple Martin,
Progne subis
, appears in Plate 22 of
The Birds of America
.]

Should you, kind reader, find it convenient or agreeable to visit the noble forests existing in the lower parts of the State of
Louisiana about the middle of October, when nature, on the eve of preparing for approaching night, permits useful dews to fall and rest on every plant with the view of reviving its leaves, its fruits or its lingering blossoms ere the return of morn; when every night insect rises on buzzing wings from the ground and the firefly, amidst thousands of other species, appears as if purposely to guide their motions through the somber atmosphere; at the moment when numerous reptiles and quadrupeds commence their nocturnal prowlings and the fair moon, empress of the night, rises peacefully on the distant horizon, shooting her silvery rays over the heavens and the earth and, like a watchful guardian, moving slowly and majestically along; when the husbandman, just returned to his home after the labors of the day, is receiving the cheering gratulations of his family and the wholesome repast is about to be spread out for master and servants alike—it is at this moment, kind reader, that were you as I have said to visit that happy country, your ear would suddenly be struck by the discordant screams of the Barred Owl. Its
whah, whah, whah, whah-aa
is uttered loudly and in so strange and ludicrous a manner that I should not be surprised were you, kind reader, when you and I meet, to compare these sounds to the affected bursts of laughter which you may have heard from some of the fashionable members of our own species.

How often, when snugly settled under the boughs of my temporary encampment and preparing to roast a venison steak or the body of a squirrel on a wooden spit, have I been saluted with the exulting bursts of this nightly disturber of the peace that, had it not been for him, would have prevailed around me as well as in my lonely retreat! How often have I seen this nocturnal marauder alight within a few yards of me, exposing his whole body to the glare of my fire, and eye me in such a curious manner that had it been reasonable to do so, I would gladly have invited him to walk in and join me in my repast that I might have enjoyed the pleasure of forming a better acquaintance with him. The liveliness of his motions joined to their oddness have often made me think that
his society would be at least as agreeable as that of many of the buffoons we meet with in the world. But as such opportunities of forming acquaintance have not existed, be content, kind reader, with the imperfect information which I can give you of the habits of this Sancho Panza of our woods.

Such persons as conclude when looking upon owls in the glare of day that they are as they then appear, extremely dull, are greatly mistaken. Were they to state, like Buffon, that
Woodpeckers are miserable beings, they would be talking as incorrectly; and to one who might have lived long in the woods they would seem to have lived only in their libraries.

The Barred Owl is found in all those parts of the United States which I have visited and is a constant resident. In
Louisiana it seems to be more abundant than in any other state. It is almost impossible to travel eight or ten miles in any of the retired woods there without seeing several of them even in broad day; and at the approach of night their cries are heard proceeding from every part of the forest around the plantations. Should the weather be lowering and indicative of the approach of rain, their cries are so multiplied during the day and especially in the evening, and they respond to each other in tones so strange, that one might imagine some extraordinary fate about to take place among them. On approaching one of them, its gesticulations are seen to be of a very extraordinary nature. The position of the bird, which is generally erect, is immediately changed. It lowers its head and inclines its body to watch the motions of the person beneath, throws forward the lateral feathers of its head, which thus has the appearance of being surrounded by a broad ruff, looks towards him as if half blind and moves its head to and fro in so extraordinary a manner as almost to induce a person to fancy that part dislocated from the body. It follows all the motions of the intruder with its eyes; and should it suspect any treacherous intentions flies off to a short distance, alighting with its back to the person and immediately turning about with a single jump to recommence its scrutiny. In this manner the Barred Owl may be followed to a considerable distance if not shot at, for to halloo after it does not seem to frighten it much. But if shot at and missed, it removes to a considerable distance, after which its
whah-whah-whah
is uttered with
considerable pomposity. This owl will answer the imitation of its own sounds and is frequently decoyed by this means.

The
flight of the Barred Owl is smooth, light, noiseless and capable of being greatly protracted. I have seen them take their departure from a detached grove in a prairie and pursue a direct course towards the skirts of the main forest, distant more than two miles, in broad daylight. I have thus followed them with the eye until they were lost in the distance and have reason to suppose that they continued their flight until they reached the woods. Once, whilst descending the Ohio not far from the well-known
Cave-in-Rock
, about two hours before sunset in the month of November, I saw a Barred Owl teased by several crows and chased from the tree in which it was. On leaving the tree it gradually rose in the air in the manner of a Hawk and at length attained so great a height that our party lost
sight of it. It acted, I thought, as if it had lost itself, now and then describing small circles and flapping its wings quickly, then flying in zigzag lines. This being so uncommon an occurrence, I noted it down at the time. I felt anxious to see the bird return towards the earth, but it did not make its appearance again. So very lightly do they fly that I have frequently discovered one passing over me and only a few yards distant by first seeing its shadow on the ground during clear moonlit nights when not the faintest rustling of its wings could be heard.

Their power of sight during the day seems to be rather of an equivocal character, as I once saw one alight on the back of a cow, which it left so suddenly afterwards when the cow moved as to prove to me that it had mistaken the object on which it had perched for something else. At other times I have observed that the approach of the grey squirrel intimidated them if one of these animals accidentally jumped on a branch close to them, although the Owl destroys a number of them during the twilight. It is for this reason, kind reader, that I have represented the Barred Owl gazing in amazement at one of the squirrels placed only a few inches from him.