Part 6

This Owl does not seem to affect the deep forests, although it haunts shady places in the vicinity of estates and open grounds, doubtless because in such places its prey abounds. Among these groves it is sometimes seen flitting on soft and silent wing during the day, when it does not usually cry. About the middle of October, passing through the extensive and beautiful Pen, called Mount Edgecumbe, where the smooth-barked pimento trees grow from the grassy sward, as in a park, my attention was called to a large space walled in, which my negro lad, Sam, told me was a “Spanish hole.” Curiosity led me to examine it. On getting over the wall, which was only a fence of dry stones, to protect the cattle from falling in, I found myself in an area of about eighty feet in diameter, in the centre of which yawned a vast pit nearly circular in form, about forty feet wide, and as many in depth. The edge overhung in every part, consisting of sharp limestone rock, so that there seemed at first no means of getting down. Some trees, however, were growing from the bottom, a few being of large size, and all of great height and smoothness, almost wholly of one kind, the bread-nut (Brosimum alicastrum). On carefully searching round, we found a slender tree growing so close to the edge as to afford a ready means of sliding down by, but so smooth that Sam was very reluctant to essay it, doubting his power to climb up again. It was with a hope of finding it the resort of owls or bats, that I had determined to examine it, and while we were discussing the possibility of reascending, a large White Owl suddenly flew up, and after flitting round once or twice, sailed away towards the woods. While I was peering into the remote corners, I discerned on a huge flat rock beneath the cavernous sides, what seemed a young bird, snow-white, and of large size, together with several eggs. This made me more urgent on my lad, and after much persuasion, and the promise to procure ropes, and assistance without delay, in case of need, he at length sprang off, and slid down the tree. By means of a long and tough smilax, which I afterwards used to measure the depth, I passed down to him in succession the gun and the basket; and he proceeded to explore the dungeon. It was evidently formed by nature; for from the overhanging sides depended stalactites of various sizes and forms, in points and festoons, some of the smallest of which he broke off; they were of a rough dead-white surface, but the fracture displayed shining crystals. In one corner were two or three holes of less than a foot in diameter, into one of which he thrust a stick several yards long; it met no bottom, and on being let go, instantly slid out of sight. In another corner lay some immense masses of stone, so large, as to leave a comparatively small space beneath the rocky roof. On one of these lay the object of the enterprise. The lad having clambered up the rocks, was saluted on his approach by a loud hissing from one of the ugliest creatures he had ever beheld; so that he hesitated to touch it. I encouraged him, however; for from the top I could witness all that took place; and he at length opened the basket, and with a stick tumbled the young bird in. Not the least vestige of a nest, nor of any apology for one, was there; but the bird had reposed on a broad mass of half-digested hair, mingled profusely with the bones of rats and birds; half of a rat lay there, freshly killed, the fore parts being devoured. At a little distance from the bird lay, on the same mass, three eggs, in no wise to be distinguished from those of a hen, in form, size, or colour, save that they were scarcely equal to the average size of hen’s eggs. I may add that, on emptying them afterwards, I found them to contain only a fluid apparently homogeneous, glairy, but turbid, like very thin paste. They were not collected for sitting, neither being within six inches of another. No sooner had Sam descended, than the old Owl again appeared; but, after flying round the mouth of the pit, and settling for an instant on one of the trees, she flew off again; and though, when we had secured the young and eggs, we waited long in expectation of her return, she came no more while we remained. Having passed up the things by the brier, the lad shinned up the tree without much difficulty, and we proceeded home with our young charge. On taking him out, I found him a strange figure indeed: the head long, and sparingly clothed with down; the curved beak, with its flesh-coloured cere; the immense orbits of the eyes marked by a white ring of small down, and the top and back of the head, and all the body besides, thickly clothed with white down of exquisite softness, strongly reminding me of a hair-dresser’s powder-puff. The tips of the wings displayed the budding quills, but they bore the singular appearance of flesh-coloured tubes, crowned with a divergent tuft of down. The hinder parts were, as usual in young birds, large and protuberant, and there was not a vestige of a tail as yet. The feet and legs were well developed, and the bird sometimes stood up on them, but more usually rested on the whole sole, in an upright, but most grotesque attitude. The clothing down was of the purest white, except that in a few parts, as the back of the head and neck, the shoulders, and the elbow of the wing, it was slightly tinged with a delicate buff, hardly discernible. He was a very cross fellow, biting spitefully at everything presented to him, and sometimes at the boards around him, without any provocation; but the beak, though sharp and hooked, was not moved by sufficient muscular power to hurt the hand. He was almost constantly hissing; particularly, but not only, when approached, giving out a sound, that for character, and really almost for volume, may be likened to that produced by the rushing forth of steam from the waste-pipe of an engine. While I was bringing him home, he discharged from the stomach a hard and very dry pellet, an inch in diameter, and about three in length, composed of rats’ hair and bones, showing that he was habitually fed with prey as taken, perhaps simply divided, and not with half-digested matter from the stomach of the mother. I found, however, that though it would bite at any object, it had no notion of eating; a bit of flesh seized in the beak being invariably dropped in a second or two. I therefore crammed it, giving it portions of the bodies of small birds and lizards, forcing them into its throat; an operation the less difficult, as the gullet is enormous. The portions remained in the fauces for a few moments, and were then swallowed. When standing up, or sitting, gazing with apparent curiosity at any person near, it was perpetually swaying deliberately from side to side; sometimes it lost its balance and fell over. The irides were black, but the pupils pale blue. It lay down to sleep, resting the side of its head on the floor.

In the course of a few days it began to seize food when presented to it, which it swallowed eagerly; and I was astonished to see how large morsels it would swallow, such as the undivided body of a large Noctilio, which it could hardly receive into its mouth. The coloured feathers now began to protrude from the lengthening quill-tubes, and I perceived that the tuft of down was slightly attached to the point of the feather, and was deciduous; or rather, that it consisted of very fine and loosely barbed prolongations of the ordinary beards of the vane, very closely resembling in texture the barbs of an ostrich-plume. When it became a little stronger, so that it could support itself a moment on one foot, it began to manifest a singular habit in eating. Almost invariably, henceforth, as soon as it had snatched a piece of flesh, which it did ravenously, it chewed it a moment with the tips of the mandibles; this had the effect of pressing out the morsel on each side so that it protruded. One foot was then brought up under the chin, and thrown forward with a clutching motion, two toes being on each side the beak; this was awkwardly performed, being repeated several times before the morsel was grasped; and the bird often stumbled about on the other foot, or nearly fell over. When the foot had clutched the flesh, it was held in the toes, until the beak could seize it in a more favourable position for swallowing. Then, by repeated tossings of the head, the morsel was thrown, as it were, little by little into the fauces. All the while it was eating, even when the throat seemed quite closed by the descending food, the whistling hiss was maintained with incessant pertinacity. Indeed, this sound, harsh and deafening as it was, scarcely ever ceased, except when the bird was sleeping. It was exceedingly vigilant; the smallest sound, even a light foot-fall, would arouse it, and awaken this most unmusical noise. It was more than usually loud when the bird was hungry, and doubly so at the moment when food was presented to it, as, in its ravenous eagerness to seize, it frequently missed from its hurried motion. Sometimes, when its belly was full, it substituted a quivering whistle, in a very high key, emitted, I believe, through the nostrils. The fæces were very fluid, and resembled a thin solution of lime; they left a chalky deposit, pulverulent: and were not at all fœtid. It seemed to have no desire for drinking. On the 1st of November it died, having been in my care about a fortnight.

Soon after this, my lad Sam being again near the Spanish-hole, looked in, and discerned the old Owl sitting on the same spot, and on the 12th, I again visited it. On peeping cautiously over the wall, I discerned her on the rock, and fired; but merely wounding her, she retreated into one of the cavities, so that Sam, on descending, could not find her. There were four eggs, which were placed close together, but in no nest. Another Owl, doubtless the mate, flew at the report of the gun from somewhere near the margin, opposite to the female’s side: but though we made considerable noise in entering the area, and in talking, the boy in descending discovered him perched still near the margin of the cavern. At length, however, he flew off. As the sitting bird had concealed herself, and could not be found, I determined to leave the eggs untouched, presuming she would soon return to them. In the course of half-an-hour I returned, and had the satisfaction of seeing her again on the eggs: I fired, and this time not vainly. In her fall she crushed one of the eggs, which had evidently been in contact with the skin of her abdomen, that part being wholly denuded of feathers. The remaining eggs were advanced towards hatching in very different degrees, and one was found on dissection in the oviduct of the bird, completely shelled, and ready for deposition. The yolk of this was small in quantity, and of a pale yellow tint. Other eggs in the ovary were from the size of large shot downward.

About the middle of October, my notice was drawn to some Owls, which were said to make nightly visits to a certain tree in a provision ground at Belmont. I visited the spot the next evening, after sunset; it was a large cotton-tree, with a spur more than usually immense and uncouth. The rounded top of this spur was the scene of the Owls’ gambols: as I approached, I heard them uttering the same harsh sound, half hiss, half scream, that had characterized the young one. As it was nearly dark, their white forms were indistinct, and before I could get within range, they, whose senses were now vigilant and acute, perceived me, and flew to a neighbouring tree, whence they presently removed to a distance. On the following evening I took care to be on the watch soon after sunset: presently I heard the well-known cry kep, kep; and the bird, arriving on noiseless wing, took up its station on one of the lofty limbs of the cotton tree. It called in this manner for a minute or two, when the other came flying from another direction, uttering the same sound, and likewise alighted on a limb not far from the former. As it was growing dark, and I was anxious to procure specimens, I fired at one, and brought it down with the wing wounded. It retreated into one of the dark recesses of the spurs, and fought bravely before I could get hold of it, snapping the beak, and trying to bite. When brought to the house, its attitudes and motions were exactly the same as those of the young above described: it would stand for hours on the same spot, gazing intently with its large liquid eyes, at any one before it: swaying slowly from side to side, with the head depressed and protruded, as if to get a better view of the object of its attention. If approached, it opened and snapped the beak; but if pressed, it fell backward on the tail, presenting both feet to clutch: which it did with effect.

Mr. Hill mentions to me a third species of Owl, small in size, and of a brown hue, but I know not any of its generic or specific characters.

+Order.+—PASSERES. (Perchers.) +Fam.+—CAPRIMULGIDÆ.—(The Nightjars.)

NIGHT-HAWK.

(Piramidig.—Musquito-hawk.)

Chordeiles Virginianus.

Caprimulgus Americanus, +Wils.+—Aud. pl. 147. Caprimulgus Popetue, +Vieill.+ Chordeiles Virginianus, +Bon.+

Length 8¹⁄₂ inches, expanse 20, tail 4, flexure 7¹⁄₁₀, rictus ¹¹⁄₁₂, tarsus ⁷⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁷⁄₁₀.

These birds are doubtless migratory, for we see nothing of them from September to April. They probably winter with the Grey Petchary and the Red-eyed Vireo, in Central America, as they appear with those species about the beginning of April. We can scarcely fail to recognise the period of their arrival; for their manners and voice are so singular, that they force themselves upon our attention. About an hour before the sun sets, we hear a loud, abrupt, and rapid repetition of four or five syllables in the air above our heads, resembling the sounds, piramidig, or gi’ me a bit, or perhaps still more, witta-wittawit. On looking up we see some two or three birds, exceedingly like swallows in figure and flight, but considerably larger, with a conspicuous white spot on each wing. They winnow, however, rather more than swallows, and more frequently depress one or the other side; and the body and tail behind the wings is rather longer. Their general appearance, their sudden quick doublings, their rushing, careering flight, and their long, narrow, arcuated wings, are so like those of swallows, that after being familiar with them, I have often been unable to determine at the first glance, whether a particular bird were a caprimulgus or a swallow. Like them the Piramidig is pursuing flying insects; and though the prey, from its great height, and probably its minute size, is invisible from the earth, we may very often observe that it is captured, by a sudden arresting of the career, and by the swift zigzag dodgings, or almost stationary flutterings, that ensue. I do not think the prey is ordinarily larger than minute diptera, hymenoptera, and coleoptera; for I have not been able to detect anything flying where these birds were hawking, even when their flight was sufficiently low to allow of insects as large as a bee being distinctly seen. “Mosquito hawk,” is one of the appellations familiarly given to the bird, and doubtless not without ground. I am confirmed in this supposition, by the fact that swallows, whose prey is known to be minute, are usually hawking in the same region of the air, and in company with the Piramidigs. By the term “company,” however, I must not be understood as implying anything like association, which does not seem to exist even between these birds themselves; they are usually solitary, except inasmuch as several, hawking over the same circumscribed region, must often come into close proximity; but this seems, in general, neither sought nor avoided; each swoops on its own course, regardless of his momentary neighbour. Yet the tender passion sets aside even the most recluse solitariness in any animal; and to this I attribute it that now and then I have seen one Piramidig following another in close and pertinacious pursuit, ever and anon uttering its singular cry, and evidently desiring to come into contact with, but not to strike or hurt its coy companion. I would not assert from hence that the nuptials of this species are performed upon the wing, because the premises are too slight to decide so important a fact; but it is known that it is so with the European Swift, a bird whose manners greatly resemble those of our Night-hawk.

It is when the afternoon rains of the season have descended plentifully, that these birds are most numerous, and most vociferous; and they continue to fly till the twilight is beginning to fade into darkness. After this, they appear for the most part to retire, and the strange and startling voices, that before were sounding all around and above us, are rarely heard by the most attentive listening. A lad informed me that when out fishing during the night, not far from the shore, the canoe is often surrounded by bats, which make a great noise. But my assistant, Sam, who heard the statement, assured me that these were not bats, but Piramidigs, (with some bats, however, in the company), and that these birds, when the moon is at or near the full, continue on the wing through the night. On dark rainy days, such as we get sometimes in May, I have seen and heard two or three abroad even in the middle of the day, careering just as at nightfall.

I may be permitted here to record a tribute of affection to this faithful servant, Samuel Campbell, whose name may often appear in this work. A negro lad of about eighteen, with only the rudiments of education, he soon approved himself a most useful assistant by his faithfulness, his tact in learning, and then his skill in practising, the art of preparing natural subjects, his patience in pursuing animals, his powers of observation of facts, and the truthfulness with which he reported them, as well as by the accuracy of his memory with respect to species. Often and often, when a thing has appeared to me new, I have appealed to Sam, who on a moment’s examination would reply, “No, we took this in such a place, or on such a day,” and I invariably found on my return home that his memory was correct. I never knew him in the slightest degree attempt to embellish a fact, or report more than he had actually seen. He remained with me all the time I was in the island, and was of great service to me. Many of the subjects of this work were obtained by him, when I was not myself with him, and some which I believe to be unique.

Early in the morning, before the grey dawn has peeped over the mountain, I have heard over the pastures of Pinnock Shafton, great numbers of these birds evidently flying low, and hawking to and fro. Their cries were uttered in rapid succession, and resounded from all parts of the air, though it was too dark to distinguish even such as were apparently in near proximity. Now and again, the hollow booming sound, like blowing into the bung-hole of a barrel, produced at the moment of perpendicular descent, as described by Wilson, fell on my ear.

The articulations or syllables, if I may so say, which make up the note, are usually four, but sometimes five, or six, uttered as rapidly as they can be pronounced, and all in the same tone. The Chuck-will’s-widow and the Whip-poor-will of the northern continent derive these names from a rapid emission of certain sounds not very dissimilar to those of the bird under consideration. The cry is uttered at considerable intervals, but without anything like a regular recurrence or periodicity.

Whither the Piramidig retires after its twilight evolutions are performed, or where it dwells by day, I have little evidence. The first individual that fell into my hands, however, was under the following circumstances. One day in the beginning of September, about noon, being with the lads shooting in Crab-pond morass, Sam called my attention to an object on the horizontal bough of a mangrove-tree, which he could not at all make out. I looked long at it, also, in various aspects, and at length concluded that it was a sluggish reptile. It was lying lengthwise on the limb, close down, the head also being laid close on the branch, the eyes wide open, and thus it remained immovable, though three of us were talking and pointing towards it, and walking to and fro under it, within a few yards. The form, in this singular posture, presented not the least likeness to that of a bird. At length I fired at it, and it fell, a veritable Night-hawk! The reason of its seeking safety by lying close, rather than by flight, was probably the imperfection of its sight in the glare of day, from the enormous size of its pupils: but the artifice showed a considerable degree of cunning.

An intelligent person has stated to me that early in the morning, where a perpendicular face of rock about twenty feet high rises from the hilly pastures of Mount Edgecumbe, he has seen these birds leave what seemed to be nests, built in the manner of some swallows, on the side of the rock, near the top. But I strongly suspect he is mistaken in the identity of the bird. One day, at the end of July, as I and Sam were following Baldpate Pigeons on some very stony pasture at Pinnock Shafton, much shaded with pimento and cedar-trees, we roused a bird of this family, and, I think, of this species, which started from the ground near our feet, and fluttered in an odd manner, inviting our attention. I was aware of her object and began to search carefully among the loose stones for a young bird, or an egg, but could discover neither, though I have no doubt either the one or the other was not far off. I have been told that it habitually chooses for its place of laying, the centre of a spot where a heap has been burned off in clearing new ground; perhaps on account of its dryness.

In some “Notes of a Year,” published in the Companion to the Jamaica Almanack, Mr. Hill had used the term, “triangular,” in connexion with the flight of this bird. In reply to a question of mine, on the subject, he thus writes: “I send you a diagram of the flittings about of the Goatsucker. It illustrates my allusion to the triangular flight of the bird. This peculiar cutting of triangles struck my attention, when I was watching the morning flight of some three or four Goatsuckers, just at day-dawn, while I strolled through the pastures of a pen in St. Andrew’s, where I was visiting. The morning twilight had spread a clear glassy gloom over the whole cloudless expanse around and above me; and as no direct ray shone on the woods and fields, which lay silent and sombre beneath,—the flitting birds were seen distinctly, like dark moving spots against the grey sky. I was struck with the sudden shifts by triangles which they were seen to make. They never moved very far from one to another direction, but darted backward and forward over a space of some five hundred yards, preserving a pretty constant horizontal traverse, over some trees in a near pasture, whose honeyed fragrance on the morning air told that they were in blossom. Occasionally only, they rose and sank so as suddenly to change their elevation above the clumps of foliage. Yarrell observes that Goatsuckers are remarkable for beating over very circumscribed spaces; but I have not found any one who notices their cutting in and out by triangular shifts. It is not so perceptible in the obscurity of the evening, but in the perspicuousness of day-dawn it is plainly visible; and I made a note of it, and dotted in the angular appearance at the time.”

In some parts of Jamaica this bird bears the appellation, most absurdly misapplied, of “Turtle-dove:” it is occasionally shot for the table, being usually fat and plump. It is a very beautiful bird. The stomach, protuberant below the sternum, is a large globular sac; the other viscera are small. Of one which I dissected, shot in its evening career, the stomach was stuffed with an amazing number of insects, almost (if not quite) wholly consisting of small beetles of the genus Bostrichus: there were probably not fewer than two hundred of these beetles, all of one species, about a quarter of an inch long.

The primaries, which are long and narrow, have a peculiar downy surface, like the nap of cloth, extending down the inner vanes, and covering the outer two-thirds of their breadth; this is visible only on the upper surface. It does not exist in our Nyctibius.

There is in my possession, presented to me by Mr. Hill with many other interesting objects, an egg of much beauty, which, when brought to him, was reported to be that of a Caprimulgus. It certainly belongs to this family, but not, as I think, to this species, judging from Wilson’s description. Its dimensions are 1²⁄₁₀ inch, by ⁸⁄₁₀, of a very regular oval, polished, and delicately and minutely marbled with white, pale blue grey, and faint olive.

POTOO.

Nyctibius Jamaicensis.

Caprimulgus Jamaicensis, +Gmel.+ Nyctibius Jamaicensis, +Vieill.+ Nyctibius pectoralis, +Gould+, Ic. Av.

Length 16 inches, expanse 33¹⁄₂, tail 7³⁄₄, flexure 11¹⁄₄, rictus 2¹⁄₂, breadth of beak at base measured within 2²⁄₁₀, tarsus ³⁄₁₀, middle toe 1³⁄₁₀.

Irides hazel, orange-coloured, or brilliant straw-yellow; feet whitish, scurfy; beak black. Interior of mouth violet, passing into flesh-colour. Plumage mottled with black, brown, grey, and white; the white prevailing on the tertiaries, tertiary-coverts, and scapulars, the black upon the primaries and their coverts; the tail-feathers barred transversely with black on a grey ground, which is so mottled as to bear a striking resemblance to the soft pencilling of many Sphingidæ; tail broad, very slightly rounded. The feathers of the head lax, and fur-like. Inner surface of the wings black, spotted with white. A streak of black runs on each side the throat, nearly parallel with and close to the gape; a bay tint prevails on the breast; and some of the feathers there have broad terminal spots of black, which are arranged in somewhat of a crescent-form, having irregular spots above it. Under parts pale grey unmottled. Every feather of the whole plumage is marked with a black stripe down the centre. Tongue sagittiform, wide at the horns, slender towards the tip, fleshy; reverted barbs along the edges. The volume of brain excessively small. Intestine 10¹⁄₂ inches; two cæca 1¹⁄₂ in. long, dilated at the ends.

Both the Whip-poor-will and the Chuck-will’s-widow have been assigned to Jamaica; neither of these vociferous and unmistakable birds, however, have fallen under my observation there. It is not improbable that the present bird has been mistaken by careless observers for the Chuck-will’s-widow, though comparatively a silent species.