Part 29

The Eskimo curlew was a bird of such food habits that it is a distinct loss to our agriculture that it should have disappeared. During the invasion of the Rocky Mountain grasshopper (Melanoplus spretus) it did splendid work in the destruction of grasshoppers and their eggs. Mr. Wheeler states that in the latter seventies these birds would congregate on pieces of land which had not been plowed and where the grasshopper eggs were laid, reach down into the soil with their long bills, and drag out the egg capsules, which they would then devour with their contents of eggs or young hoppers until the land had been cleared of the pests. A specimen examined by Aughey in 1874 had 31 grasshoppers in its stomach, together with a large number of small berries of some kind. The bird in its migrations often alighted on plowed ground to feed on the white grubs and cutworms turned up by the plow, or in meadow lands, probably feeding on ants in the latter situation. Richardson records finding them feeding on large ants at Fort Franklin in late May, 1849. The curlews were rarely seen near water, but were upland birds almost exclusively during the spring migration over the Great Plains region.

Doctor Coues (1874) describes its food on the Labrador coast, as follows:

Their food consists almost entirely of the crowberry (Empetrum nigrum), which grows on all the hillsides in astonishing profusion. It is also called the “bearberry” and “curlew berry.” It is a small berry, of a deep purple color, almost black, growing upon a procumbent, running kind of heath, the foliage of which has a peculiar moss-like appearance. This is their principal and favorite food and the whole intestine, the vent, the legs, the bill, throat, and even the plumage, are more or less stained with the deep purple juice. They are also very fond of a species of small snail that adheres to the rock in immense quantities, to procure which they frequent the land-washes at low tide. Food being so abundant, and so easily obtained, they become excessively fat. In this condition they are most delicious eating, being tender, juicy, and finely flavored; but, as might be expected, they prove a very difficult job for the taxidermist.

Behavior.--Lucien M. Turner gives, in his Ungava notes, a vivid description of a large flock of Eskimo curlews, which I quote, as follows:

I saw none until the morning of the 4th of September, 1884, as we were passing out from the mouth of the Koksoak River. Here an immense flock of several hundred individuals were making their way to the south. They flew in that peculiar manner which distinguishes the curlews from all other birds in flight, a sort of wedge shape, the sides of which were constantly swaying back and forth like a cloud of smoke wafted by the lightest zephyr. The aerial evolutions of the curlews when migrating are, perhaps, one of the most wonderful in the flight of birds. Long, dangling lines, either perpendicular or horizontal, the lower parts of which whirl, rise, or twist spirally, while the apex of the flock is seemingly at rest. At other times the leader plunges downward successively followed by the remainder in most graceful undulations, becoming a dense mass then separating into a thin sheet spread wide; again reforming into such a variety of positions that no description would suffice.

Mr. Mackay (1892c) says:

Of those I have observed in New England during a series of years I may say that most of their habits closely resemble those of the golden plover. In migration they fly in much the same manner, with extended and broadside and triangular lines and clusters similar to those of ducks and geese at such times. They usually fly low after landing, sweeping slowly over the ground, apparently looking it over, generally standing motionless for quite a little while after alighting, which, owing to their general color approximating so closely to the withered grass, renders it difficult at times to perceive them. I have had a flock of 50 or 60 alight within 30 yards of me, and have been unable to make out more than two or three birds. If disturbed they will frequently alight again at no great distance, if not previously harassed, and under the same conditions they can be approached at all times, for they are either very tame or very shy. They seek out and are found in the same localities selected by the golden plover with which they generally associate if any are in the vicinity, there always being a strong friendship between them. They are not so active as the plover; on the ground they appear less inclined to move about, especially after landing and during rainy weather when I have at times noticed them standing on the ground quite close together, every bird headed to the wind, with heads and necks drawn down and resting on their backs, with the rain running off their tails. At such times they could be approached on foot to within half a gunshot, showing little fear.

Doctor Coues (1874) writes:

The curlews associate in flocks of every size, from three to as many thousand, but they generally fly in so loose and straggling a manner that it is rare to kill more than half a dozen at a shot. When they wheel, however, in any of their many beautiful evolutions, they close together in a more compact body, and offer a more favorable opportunity to the gunner. Their flight is firm, direct, very swift, when necessary much protracted, and is performed with regular, rapid beats. They never sail, except when about to alight, when the wings are much incurved downward, in the manner of most waders. As their feet touch the ground, their long, pointed wings are raised over the back, until the tips almost touch, and then deliberately folded, much in the manner of the solitary sandpiper (Rhyacophilus solitarius).

Voice.--Professor Swenk (1915) describes the notes as follows:

The Eskimo curlew had several notes. During flight they uttered a fluttering tr-tr-tr note, which was given by many individuals at once, and described by Coues as a “low conversational chatter” and by Mackay as “a soft, melodious whistle, ‘bee, bee.’” Mr. W. A. Elwood describes this note as “a short, low whistle” continually repeated by many of the birds simultaneously while in flight. Mr. A. J. Leach recalls the notes as resembling quite closely the note of the bluebird when in flight, only perhaps shorter and more of a twittering whistle, and, as it was given by a large number, perhaps all, of the flock as they took wing and while flying, it was difficult to catch the individual note. This note was constantly uttered while the birds were flying and was often audible before the birds could be seen. Before alighting, as they descended and sailed, they gave a soft whistle, somewhat like the note of the upland plover, according to Professor Bruner, while as they walked over the ground when feeding they uttered a chirruping whistle, as if calling to each other.

Fall.--The adult birds must have started off their breeding grounds early in July for the first arrivals reached the coast of Labrador by the end of that month. Their course at first was east-southeast, or perhaps nearly due east, across Hudson Bay to the Labrador Peninsula, where they lingered for a week or two to feast and fatten on the abundant harvest of berries. Turner saw them as far north as the mouth of the Koksoak River, and says in his notes:

From the 10th to the 20th of August immense flocks of these birds appear on the level tracts from Davis’ Inlet to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, each day adding to their number until the ground seems alive with them. They feed on the ripening berries of Empetrum and Vaccinium, becoming wonderfully fat in a few days. By the 8th of September it is asserted that none remain.

Audubon (1840) writes:

On the 29th of July, 1833, during a thick fog, the Esquimaux curlews made their first appearance in Labrador, near the harbor of Bras d’Or. They evidently came from the north, and arrived in such dense flocks as to remind me of the passenger pigeons. The weather was extremely cold as well as foggy. For more than a week we had been looking for them, as was every fisherman in the harbor, these birds being considered there, as indeed they are, great delicacies. The birds at length came, flock after flock, passed close round our vessel, and directed their course toward the sterile mountainous tracts in the neighborhood; and as soon as the sun’s rays had dispersed the fogs that hung over the land, our whole party went off in search of them.

I was not long in discovering that their stay on this coast was occasioned solely by the density of the mists and the heavy gales that already gave intimation of the approaching close of the summer; for whenever the weather cleared up a little, thousands of them set off and steered in a straight course across the broad Gulf of St. Lawrence. On the contrary, when the wind was high, and the fogs thick, they flew swiftly and low over the rocky surface of the country, as if bewildered. Wherever there was a spot that seemed likely to afford a supply of food, there the curlews abounded, and were easily approached. By the 12th of August, however, they had all left the country.

The eastward flight reached as far as Newfoundland, where they were fairly numerous along the eastern and southeastern shores. There was also a migration, probably down the west coast of Hudson Bay, which reached the Atlantic coast through Ontario and the Great Lakes region. But the main flight was through Labrador, across the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Nova Scotia and then due south across the ocean to the Lesser Antilles and South America; their course in South America is not well known, but it was probably across eastern Brazil, to Uruguay, Argentina, and Patagonia, where they arrived in September.

In fair weather the 2,000-mile trip across the ocean was probably made in one continuous flight, though I believe that these birds were able to alight on and rise from the water if necessary. But if bad weather, severe southeasterly storms, thick fogs, or heavy rains occurred during their passage, they were forced to land, sometimes in enormous numbers on the coast of New England, less often on the shores farther south, or on the Bermudas; if severe westerly gales occurred they were sometimes driven far out to sea or even across the Atlantic to the British Isles. Our flights in Massachusetts could be looked for during the latter half of August and through September. On Cape Cod they used to frequent much the same localities as the golden plover, old fields and pastures, often several miles from the shore, and the drier portions of the salt marshes, where they found an abundance of grasshoppers, crickets, and other insects; on Monomoy they were often found on the low sand hills which were largely covered with gray mosses or lichens. Mr. Mackay (1892c) writes:

Those which do visit us almost invariably land with their boon companions, the American golden plover, of whose flocks I have frequently noticed they were the leaders, and I can scarcely call to mind, as I write, an instance where any number of Eskimo curlew have landed without there being more or less golden plover present at the same time. Those birds which may come can not, if they would, remain any longer than is absolutely necessary, for they are so harassed immediately after landing that the moment there occurs a change in the weather favorable for migration they at once depart. They appear to leave the coast at Long Island, N. Y., and strike farther out to sea, and then are not seen on the Atlantic coast for another year.

Game.--The gunner’s name for the Eskimo curlew was “dough-bird,” not “doe-bird,” for it was so fat when it reached us in the fall that its breast would often burst open when it fell to the ground, and the thick layer of fat was so soft that it felt like a ball of dough. It is no wonder that it was so popular as a game bird, for it must have made a delicious morsel for the table. It was so tame and unsuspicious and it flew in such dense flocks that it was easily killed in large numbers. On the Labrador coasts and in Newfoundland the inhabitants killed all they could and preserved them for winter use, according to Mr. Berteau (Carroll, 1910), “by parboiling them and packing them in tins and jars and covering them with melted butter or lard.” Coues (1874) tells of shooting them in Labrador, as follows:

Although the curlews were in such vast numbers, I did not find them so tame as might be expected and as I had been led to suppose by previous representations. I was never able to walk openly within shooting distance of a flock, though I was told it was often done. The most successful method of obtaining them is to take such a position as they will probably fly over in passing from one feeding ground to another. They may then be shot with ease, as they rarely fly high at such times. The pertinacity with which they cling to certain feeding grounds, even when much molested, I saw strikingly illustrated on one occasion. The tide was rising and about to flood a muddy flat, of perhaps an acre in extent, where their favorite snails were in great quantities. Although six or eight gunners were stationed upon the spot, and kept up a continual round of firing upon the poor birds, they continued to fly distractedly about over our heads, notwithstanding the numbers that every moment fell. They seemed in terror lest they should lose their accustomed fare of snails that day. On another occasion, when the birds had been so harassed for several hours as to deprive them of all opportunity of feeding, great numbers of them retired to a very small island, or rather a large pile of rocks, a few hundred yards from the shore, covered with seaweed and, of course, with snails. Flock after flock alighted on it, till it was completely covered with the birds, which there, in perfect safety, obtained their morning meal.

I can remember hearing my father tell of the great shooting they used to have on “the plains” at Cohasset when I was a small boy, about 1870. As he has now gone to the happy hunting grounds I can not give the exact figures, but he saw a wagon loaded full of “dough birds” shot on the plains in one day.

The greatest killings were made on the western plains during the spring migration, which Professor Swenk (1915) describes as follows:

During such flights the slaughter of these poor birds was appalling and almost unbelievable. Hunters would drive out from Omaha and shoot the birds without mercy until they had literally slaughtered a wagonload of them, the wagons being actually filled, and often with the sideboards on at that. Sometimes when the flight was unusually heavy and the hunters were well supplied with ammunition their wagons were too quickly and easily filled, so whole loads of the birds would be dumped on the prairie, their bodies forming piles as large as a couple of tons of coal, where they would be allowed to rot while the hunters proceeded to refill their wagons with fresh victims, and thus further gratify their lust of killing. The compact flocks and tameness of the birds made this slaughter possible, and at each shot usually dozens of the birds would fall. In one specific instance a single shot from an old muzzle-loading shotgun into a flock of these curlews as they veered by the hunter brought down 28 birds at once, while for the next half mile every now and then a fatally wounded bird would drop to the ground dead. So dense were the flocks when the birds were turning in their flight that one could scarcely throw a brick or missile into it without striking a bird.

In hunting these curlew the field glass was used by the hunters to follow their flights. The fields where they were prone to gather were patroled many times during the day and carefully scanned with the glass to discover the flocks on the ground. When the birds came in they would be up quite high, perhaps from 200 or 300 yards to a quarter of a mile, and in preparing to alight they would turn and wheel, towering in the air while they whistled softly, would hover a while, and then all drop and come down, flying along over the ground for a short distance before alighting. The birds would always alight all at once and very close together, and if the day were warm they would sit down very close together on the ground, forming bunches, when they could be readily discovered with the field glass and approached close enough to get a shot.

There was no difficulty in getting quite close to the sitting birds, perhaps within 25 or 35 yards, and when at about this distance the hunters would wait for them to arise on their feet, which was the signal for the first volley of shots. The startled birds would rise and circle about the field a few times, affording ample opportunity for further murderous discharge of the guns, and sometimes would realight on the same field, when the attack would be repeated. Mr. Wheeler has killed as many as 37 birds with a pump gun at one rise. They weighed just about 1 pound each when they were fat. Sometimes the bunch would be seen with the glass alighting in a field 2 or 3 miles away, when the hunters would at once drive to that field with a horse and buggy as rapidly as they could, relocate the birds, get out, and resume the fusillade and slaughter. On rainy days the birds would fly restlessly from one field to another, moving about in this way most of the day and seeming unusually plentiful because of being so much in the air.

Winter.--There is little known about the winter habits of the Eskimo curlew except that it formerly associated with the golden plover, the upland plover, and the buff-breasted sandpiper on the pampas of Argentina and Patagonia, where it is now but a memory of the past.

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