Part 35

During courtship the male spends considerable time on the wing, speeding about like a racer; and amid the constant din of wild-fowl notes his cheery whistle to lee, to lee, is one of the pleasant sounds that greet the ear. But once the female is incubating her lord becomes as serious and silent as his sober black waistcoat, so that by early June it seemed as if every plover had left the country. He carries on his courtship regardless of weather, now mounting high, the next moment skimming low, with beautiful and bewildering grace, his wild whistling call meanwhile rising above the din of the storm. The advance guard of migrants of this plover arrived from the south in a “nor’wester” on May 7, passing like phantom voyagers, and the next instant were lost in mid-air in the swirling snow.

Nesting.--Mr. Brandt has sent me the following notes on the nesting habits of the black-bellied plover in the Hooper Bay region of Alaska:

We found this jauntily attired plover the most common nesting species of the larger shore birds, frequenting the upland rolling tundra, where it preferred the ridges. It often chose for a nesting site the edge of one of the more prominent bluffs which formed the margin of the valleys, from which location the sitting bird could view the entire surrounding country. On these barren areas, where even the close-cropped moss struggles for existence, the vegetation is mottled with black and white, and as a consequence the eggs, in spite of their exposed situation, are very difficult to find. One must almost touch them to be sure that they are there, so completely do they harmonize with their background. This protective coloration is so perfect that in one case a bird deserted its nest and the eggs remained unprotected for three days, during which time jaegers, which were continuously hunting overhead and about, were, even with their sharp eyes, not able to distinguish them.

The nest is prepared by the female by scratching out in the moss a circular depression some 6 inches in diameter and about 1½ inches deep and lining it with a few white sprigs of reindeer moss. Here she lays her four large beautiful eggs, each set showing marked variation in size, shape, and markings. These eggs are distinctive, having a considerably lighter background than those of the golden plover, while the black markings are not so numerous and are more evenly distributed.

They do not nest in proximity to one another, as of the 40 or more nests observed no two were closer together than a quarter of a mile. The female is anything but a close sitter and departs from the eminence on which the nest is situated long before the intruder arrives. If the eggs are fresh, often neither bird exhibits any interest while a person is at the nest and they do not even make their appearance as long as he remains in their vicinity. As the hatching point approaches, however, the birds become more solicitous, protesting vigorously; the male develops into a militant sentry and rushes out to meet the intruder, repeatedly whistling lee-ah in a scolding tone, but staying well out of gun range. He is very combative and drives away any jaeger or large gull that infringes on his area. The female often leaves her eggs to join in the attack, and even the swift-flying long-tailed jaeger can not avoid their onslaughts but beats a hasty retreat. I have seen a male plover strike a jaeger so hard that it reeled unsteadily in mid-air, but the coward made no effort to retaliate.

Roderick MacFarlane’s notes contain the records of seven nests found in the vicinity of Franklin Bay, Mackenzie. The nests were all found between July 4 and 10, in 1864 and 1865. The first was on an island in the bay and was “composed of a few withered grasses, placed in a hole or depression on the side, or face, of a very gentle eminence.” At least two other nests were on islands. The female was snared on one nest, but was devoured by a snowy owl, which also ate the four eggs.

The nesting habits of the grey plover, as this species is called by Europeans, are apparently similar to those of our bird. Henry J. Pearson (1896), who found seven nests on Kolguev, describes them thus:

The positions of the nests were interesting; only two were on the lower ground near the Gobista; one was a mile both from the sea and the river; all the others--also several old nests--were on the tundra not far from the edge of the bluffs which form the margin of the river basin. Grey plovers seem to prefer this position, which gives them good posts of observation and allows them to take their young easily into the marshes below to feed. We found a ready way of locating the nest of this bird was to watch a pair of Richardson’s skua hunting over the tundra, for as soon as they approached the nest of the plovers, both the latter rose into the air and drove the skuas away. We never observed these birds breeding near each other, each pair appearing to take possession of about a mile of country. All the nests were slight depressions in the peat, lined with a little lichen.

If the black-bellied plover breeds in Greenland it must be very rare there, for Dr. W. Elmer Ekblaw tells me that he saw it only twice during the four years that he spent there. A flock that he saw on Sutherland Island, south of Etah, on August 17, 1914, was made up of old and young birds and the latter may have been reared there.

Eggs.--Mr. Brandt has described the eggs so much better than I can that I prefer to quote from his notes, as follows:

Of the more than 40 nests that we examined of the black-bellied plover each held four eggs when its complement was completed. Owing to the proportionate thickness compared with its length the shape of the egg is ovate pyriform inclining to subpyriform. The shell is strong, finely granular, and on every egg I have seen the lustre is uniformly dull. The ground color and markings vary so much that hardly any two sets are the same. This ground color appears to follow three different shades, which are pinkish, greenish, or brownish. These types are often quite pronounced when the eggs are fresh, but the delicate tints fade with age. The pink type ranges from “pale ochraceous salmon” to “light buff”; the green type is “pale glass green”; while the brown variety is often as dark as “cinnamon drab.” The eggs are never densely spotted and are always most heavily marked about the large end, but the very tip of this end is usually bare of spots, so that, if viewed upon the long axis, a wreath of spots is observed. These spots are usually medium in size and are distinct, although in a few unusual examples the spots become confluent at the large end. The primary markings are irregularly circular and never elongated, while upon the unusual egg these jet ornaments are of thumb-nail size. In rare instances the markings assume the form of short penlike scratches which mark the surface at various angles in the same manner as is occasionally found on the eggs of other members of the Charadriidae. The spots are uniformly “blackish brown” to black, but, where the pigment is spread more thinly, “deep brownish drab” or “dusky drab” tones may be noted, while here and there “hazel” to “liver brown” may be observed where the pigment is extremely thin. The underlying spots are never numerous but always present and are more prominent on some specimens than on others. They vary in tone from “pale mouse gray” to “deep violet gray,” dependent upon the ground color, while one specimen with small primary spots is conspicuously beautified with “chicory blue.” A series of these noble eggs is a study in black and whitish, and while the individual egg is conspicuous, yet, when resting on their mottled birthplace, it is evident that nature has most happily endowed them with protective coloration.

The measurements of 174 eggs average 52.2 by 36.5 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure =58= by 38, 55.5 by =38.2=, =47.5= by 34.7 and 51.9 by =34= millimeters. The measurements of eggs from different localities do not throw much light on the relationship of the proposed subspecies; 120 eggs from Hooper Bay average 52.4 by 36.7, 14 eggs from Franklin Bay average 52 by 36, and 40 eggs from European localities average 51.6 by 35.9 millimeters.

Young.--Several observers have proven that both sexes share in the incubation. Mr. Brandt says in his notes:

The first downy young appeared on June 21 after an incubation lasting 23 days, and they were just as inconspicuous and distinctive as were the eggs whence they emerged. At that time both parents were fearless in their defense, employing all the wing-dragging and distress maneuvers known to ground-nesting birds. This was exhibited even by the male, which is rather unusual. The downy young are variegated, sulphur-yellow and black above, and harmonize well with the abundant yellowish moss of the tundra. They conceal themselves by lying with head down and with their legs drawn under their bodies and are thus very difficult to detect.

Plumages.--In natal down the young black-bellied plover resembles the young golden plover, except that the band around the neck and the under parts are purer white. The forehead, crown, and sides of the head are variegated with black, white, and bright yellows, varying from “lemon chrome” to “baryta yellow”; the back, rump, wings, and thighs are mottled with black and the above shades of yellow; the nape, a broad band around the neck and the entire under parts are pure white; the cheeks below the eyes are white bordered below by a black stripe extending from the bill to the auriculars.

In fresh juvenal plumage, as seen on the breeding grounds, the forehead and lores are mainly white; the crown and all the upper parts of the body are sepia, the feathers broadly tipped or notched with yellow, varying from “light cadmium yellow” to “light orange yellow,” the spots being largest and brightest on the rump; the chin is white, but the rest of the under parts are buffy gray and pale buff, the feathers of the throat, breast, and flanks with median dusky streaks and faint dusky tips; the greater wing coverts are more narrowly edged, but more conspicuously notched than in the adult. Young birds are in juvenal plumage during migration, but the yellows have mostly faded to creamy white or white, though the rump spots are often quite yellow. A partial postjuvenal molt takes place late in the fall and in winter, involving much of the body plumage, but generally not the rump and back. Generally the molt is finished by December, but often not until January; by this time the light edgings and notches have worn away, giving the bird a very dark appearance. The first winter plumage is much like the adult winter, but it can be distinguished by the creamy or golden tips and notches of the juvenal wing coverts, by the faded yellow spots on the rump and by some old, worn scapulars and tertials.

Young birds have an incomplete and very variable first prenuptial molt, at which the sexes begin to differentiate. Young males acquire more of the adult nuptial plumage than young females; sometimes the breasts become almost wholly clear black; but in the upper parts there is generally only a sprinkling of new, adult, broadly white-tipped feathers, most of the first winter plumage being retained, with some old, worn scapulars, tertials, and tails. Young females show much less black on the breast and much more winter plumage on the back. Young birds apparently renew the primaries in February and March and the first postnuptial molt, the following summer and fall, produces the adult winter plumage.

Adults have a partial prenuptial molt between February and May, involving the body plumage, usually the tail, some of the wing coverts and tertials, but not all the scapulars, back and rump feathers. The complete postnuptial molt, begins with the acquisition of white feathers in the under body plumage in August and the body molt lasts through September, while the birds are migrating. The wings are molted later, from September to December. In winter plumage the black breast is entirely replaced by dull white, more or less marked or shaded with pale, ashy brown; and the upper parts are dull, ashy brown, the feathers tipped with white and subterminally shaded with blackish brown. No trace of the nuptial body plumage is left and adults and young look very much alike.

Food.--The main feeding grounds of the black-bellied plover along the coasts are on the broad, tidal, sand flats, and mud flats; there are many such flats about Chatham and other places on Cape Cod, where the receding tide leaves many square miles of flat mud or sand, dotted with little islands of tall marsh grass. These are favorite resorts for plover, where they may be seen away off on the edge of the water, perhaps a mile from the shore, feeding on marine worms, small mollusks, crustaceans, and marine insects. As the advancing tide drives them in onto the marshes or sand dunes, they find other food; Mr. Mackay (1892) says that “they feed also on the larvae of one of the cutworms (Noctuidae) which they obtain on the marshes. They also eat the large whitish maritime grasshopper (Oedipoda maritima).”

In the interior they feed, around the shores of the larger lakes and on open flats, on various forms of aquatic life. They also resort to some extent to meadows and upland pastures, where the grass is short, and to plowed fields; here they do some good by devouring grasshoppers, locusts, cutworms, grubs, beetles, and earthworms. They also eat some seeds and berries. Mr. Forbush (1912) says that Prof. Samuel Aughey found the stomachs of two of these birds “crammed with the destructive Rocky Mountain locust.”

Grinnell, Bryant, and Storer (1918) mention a bird taken in California which had in its stomach “14 small snails, 1 small bivalve mollusk, and parts of 2 or more small crabs.” I once watched a bird in Florida, which fed for some time on the broken remains of a dead crab.

Behavior.--Mr. Brandt, in his notes, pays the following tribute to the power of flight of this fine bird:

Only those who have met the lordly black-bellied plover on his native heath can appreciate how he seems to rule with a martial air the domains under his control. Powerful of wing stroke, trim of form as a grayhound, and erect of carriage, this, the largest of our common plovers, is the athlete of the wild birds of the North. Neatly vestured in his silvery white and ebony black, he is the fleetest racer of the air among a field of highly developed specialists. To consider him swifter than the graceful long-tailed jaeger or the far-ranging golden plover is indeed a startling claim, but my judgment is that the black-bellied plover can pass through the air faster than any other feathered creature in the North. At some time in the future it will be of great interest for some enterprising ornithologist to test out in his racing aeroplane the various flying speeds of the northern birds. It is my prediction that the shore birds will be found to lead the field there, and that the big black-bellied plover will surpass them all. The Pacific godwit is a wonderful air master, darting here and there with but the slightest effort, yet our plover seems to have only one gear, and that high speed. This may be best appreciated during the gales that are of such frequent occurrence in that storm-swept land. The bird can quarter, or fly into the teeth of the wind, with such power as almost to disregard it.

The above picture is not overdrawn, for this plover is one of our strongest fliers. Migrating flocks fly high in great bunches or massed formations, after the manner of many ducks. When flying short distances or when coming in over the flats they fly low and are often strung out in lines. Their flight seems to me to be steadier or more duck-like than that of the smaller shore birds. The powerful, pointed wings move very swiftly; Doctor Oberholser and I once made a number of accurate counts of the wing beats of this and several other species in normal flight; eight counts for this plover averaged 240 beats a minute, or 4 beats a second; the slowest was 225 and the fastest 250.

The black-bellied plover is wont to stand erect, with head held high, in an attitude of dignified yet alert repose; it can be recognized by its bold outline almost as far as it can be seen, away out on the shimmering sands. It is a wary sentinel for all of its smaller companions and it is utterly useless to attempt to approach it in an open situation. It runs swiftly along at the water’s edge, stopping frequently to look about or striking quickly at some morsel of food. Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1905) says that they throw “the feet well out in front as they run. Their usual stride is 3 or 4 inches, but I have several times measured tracks that were 6 inches apart.” It is interesting to watch them bathing; they squat down in shallow water and spend much time in splashing, fluttering the wings, and dipping their heads; then comes the drying process, shaking the water out of the body plumage, flapping wings and wagging tails, followed by a long period of careful preening. Francis H. Allen writes to me of another method of bathing, as follows:

At one time they took to bathing, one after another, and one pretty little performance was to fly up about a foot and come splashing down into the water with much fluttering of wings. One started this play, and another and another took it up till half a dozen or more had gone through it. They also hopped on one foot in the water, as shore birds so often do on the beach, and, in this, one set the fashion and others followed it. This hopping altogether seems to be quite common play with various species.

Like most shore birds, they can swim quite easily, as the following note from Francis M. Weston will show:

On March 27 I was watching a small flock of black-bellied plovers feeding on a sand bar at low tide. One of the birds was separated from the others by a deep pool about 6 feet wide, and, in order to join them, entered the water and swam across the pool. While in the water, it reminded me very much of a diminutive gull--it floated high in the “stern” with the forward part of the body low in the water. The transit of the pool was made so quickly that there was no time for a detailed study of the bird’s motions. Thinking that the plover was wounded and had had to swim through lack of ability to fly, I approached the flock, when all took wing and flew to another bar several hundred yards distant. An examination of the pool showed that it was more than a foot deep--far too deep for a bird of that size to wade.