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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
Bu.uetin 167
LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN BIRDS OF PREY
ORDER FALCONIFORMES (Parr 1)
BY. ARTHUR CLEVELAND BENT
Taunton, Massachusetts
UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE WASHINGTON : 1937
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, Washington: DMG = cr mreni= se 3 =) ons Price 70 cents
ADVERTISEMENT
The scientific publications of the National Museum include two series, known, respectively, as Proceedings and Bulletin.
The Proceedings series, begun in 1878, is intended primarily as a medium for the publication of original papers, based on the collec- tions of the National Museum, that set forth newly acquired facts in biology, anthropology, and geology, with descriptions of new forms and revisions of limited groups. Copies of each paper, in pamphlet form, are distributed as published to lbraries and scien- tific organizations and to specialists and others interested in the different subjects. The dates at which these separate papers are published are recorded in the table of contents of each of the volumes.
The series of Bulletins, the first of which was issued in 1875, con- tains separate publications comprising monographs of large zoologi- cal groups and other general systematic treatises (occasionally in several volumes), faunal works, reports of expeditions, catalogs of type specimens, special collections, and other material of similar nature. The majority of the volumes are octavo in size, but a quarto size has been adopted in a few instances in which large plates were regarded as indispensable. In the Bulletin series appear volumes under the heading Contributions from the United States National Herbarium, in octavo form, published by the National Museum since 1902, which contain papers relating to the botanical collections of the Museum.
The present work forms No. \€7 of the Bulletin series.
ALEXANDER WETMORE, Assistant Secretary, Smithsonian Institution.
Wasuineton, D. C., March 12, 1937.
II
CONTENTS
Page
NPTEROUUCLIOI seen 2 ee Bee Se oe ke es a VII Order Faleoniformessts <6 erento fepspel a cet gay Phe ne hoe ety ga lt sek 1 Hamily (Cathartidac: American vultures____..-.--..~..--.-... 43hic.- 1 Gymnogyps californianus: California condor____-__--------------- 1 Habits =<. <2. lepe net tee bl yaa hee shin lit. iu clie secuagat ont 1 Distribublo nea ee ee ee a ae ee ee ee ee ee nha Cathartes aura septentrionalis: Turkey vulture_-_._____------------ 12 AFT To TGS eee ee eae lee ee ne) Re ee i ee ft es ED 12 Distribution. 25-4 Jee ttee do tone elo cap elies sescotiiash 25 Coragyps atratus atratus: Black vulture.__...._._.._-.-.----------- 28 Habits. 225 eh at herentlipaechae saae!T cape sent waplaawil inet 28 Distrib wtlonss. een es ea a ie ee 43 Family Accipitriidae: Kites, hawks, and allies.__._______..__---------- 44 Elanoides forficatus forficatus: Swallow-tailed kite_....._.-_------ 44 Pa its teen See Oe eh oe Soe See i eS ES hy Bo epic gay ig PEE 44 Distributionet: a+ 52 idee tee eet. eertgagonge aude acti seed 51 Elanus leucurus majusculus: North American white-tailed kite_-_-- 54 PAE DG eae oe ee ee cee es ome aed lar ee hE 2 54 Distribution... 2... eee alpen ee tenga a 62 Ictinia misisippiensis: Mississippi kite............__.-.---ss2b1-- * 63 RAIDS eee oe ee ee es ee Poe 63 Distribution ~ _sferes!t tapes Ngee Ee cect ect elo eunntay aly lent 69 Rostrhamus sociabilis plumbeus: Everglade kite__.._____-__------ 70 esther ase Se oye dS es a 2 aan pele EE 70 Distribution... 2... 2 2 deat, fetid hte asus dgordock oe Circusshudsenius: Marsh hawk. = 222-52 25.2.23-...s:sde—- 78 FET SR TAs ese ee re eae 2 en bop PET 78 Distribution_-______- bqelvelt esedive goigpedtp ouiiple 92 Accipiter velox velox: Sharp-shinned hawk_______---------------- 95 aise 2 aes ea a he ut kl Se deh ben peek ey 95 Distribution: 25. == bs adugs_ pastel eens piaigels j.ieg® 109 Accipiter cooper: Cooper's hawk... 2.---..--:.-.<....etelsi-- 112 BETES eee eo ec A Ti Be ee Need eh We 112 Distributioneed feesies$ ens een boss th osteeadat 2 ates sack 123 Astur atricapillus atricapillus: Eastern goshawk__________--__------ 125 PA DIGgS Ss ee ee ne ee 2 pea 125 Distribution..2- =... 5.2. el feres sup sincnell tte ya cet: 138 Astur atricapillus striatulus: Western goshawk___________--_------ 139 aoitg 2 oe oe es a 2 aretha ag T pcb OE 139 Parabuteo unicinctus harrisi: Harris’s hawk______---------------- 142 DEMERS es ee a ge el eR oe 142 Distributions. 4525.42 ee a ee eS gee te Sele. 146 Buteo borealis borealis: Eastern red-tailed hawk_________-_------- 147 Te ae eee ees rie eee re Rp ae el OTE e 147 Distriputiones <n Se eo he oa oa et epee elt 162
IV BULLETIN
167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
Family Accipitriidae—Continued.
Buteo borealis krideri: Krider’s hawk
Buteo lineatus lineatus: Northern red-shouldered hawk_-_-_________-
Habits___--
Buteo lineatus el Habits=—2
egans:- Red-belliedvhaw k= nats. et ae eee
Buteo lineatus extimus: Insular red-shouldered hawk____-____-____-
Eigbitsesss=
Buteo lineatus texanus: Texas red-shouldered hawk_____-__-_____-_-
Habits.
we -------- - - - - ee Qo - - - ee - - - - -
Buteoralbonotatus:-Zone-taileduhsawikes <= = ae eee
Distribution
Buteo albicaudatus hypospodius: Sennett’s white-tailed hawk-_-____- abr. Piel. Ae. IOWA cect eet ass ae nL
Buteo swainsoni: Hiabitss =o
Buteo brachyuru Habits__._- Distribution
Swainson’s hawks] 555- 2-5 eee
SHS MOTE tent Col hn yyy ce a
Urubitinga anthracina anthracina: Mexican black hawk_----_------
Eisibitsa=sae
Aquila chrysaéto Habits...
8 canadensis!=Goldeneagles Suu. 20 2u UL Se 22
Page 165 165 167 167 174 174 178 178 180 180 196 199
281 284 284 292 293 293 313 315 315 320
CONTENTS Vi
Family Accipitriidae—Continued. Page Haliaeetus leucocephalus leucocephalus: Southern bald eagle__-_-~__-_ 321
Fee ES eer es Rees apy ee mera eA A aes hn ice 321 Distributions -s.224 =e ae ee ae eo ee oe Boe ae 332 Haliaeetus leucocephalus alascanus: Northern bald eagle_______-_--_- 333
a bidet ere eiyn “ais. api cade deh 8 pat oy PUK Ue a pes es Sp EO heen 8 MOLT 333 Thallasoaetus pelagicus: Steller’s sea eagle_.___-_---------------- 349 abit see ope ern ee ewe eres Le LA ae eeu eee 349 Distribution san See a eye sees a a ie wy Nes eye eects 351
Pandion haliaétus carolinensis: American osprey ---_- rR tee Aas Wee 352
Valo iise eva Sf Sy neh ore its Aeaeh tee, Eee” AP, 352 Distributions: as See eee eee a Ne ee Se ee 375 Hiteraturercited eet. prame wo ass ae ee Se eee le ee 381 lincdlexaterae ered af ari aie Moor sae sie tee ee eee 399
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INTRODUCTION
This is the tenth in a series of bulletins of the United States National Museum on the life histories of North American birds. Previous numbers have been issued as follows:
107. Life Histories of North American Diving Birds, August 1, 1919.
113. Life Histories of North American Gulls and Terns, August 27, 1921.
121. Life Histories of North American Petrels and Pelicans and their Allies, October 19, 1922.
126. Life Histories of North American Wild Fowl (part), May 25, 1923.
180. Life Histories of North American Wild Fowl (part), June 27, 1925.
135. Life Histories of North American Marsh Birds, March 11, 1927.
142. Life Histories of North American Shore Birds (pt. 1), December 31, 1927.
146. Life Histories of North American Shore Birds (pt. 2), March 24, 1929.
162. Life Histories of North American Gallinaceous Birds, May 25, 1932.
The same general plan has been followed, as explained in previous bulletins, and the same sources of information have been utilized. The nomenclature of the new Check-List of the American Ornitholo- gists’ Union has been followed, but it has seemed best to continue in the same order of arrangement of families and species as given in the old (1910) check-list.
An attempt has been made to give as full a life history as possible of the best-known subspecies and to avoid duplication by writing briefly of the others and giving only the characters of the subspecies, its range, and any habits peculiar to it. In many cases certain habits, probably common to the species as a whole, have been recorded for only one subspecies; such habits are mentioned under the subspecies on which the observations were made. The distribution gives the range of the species as a whole, with only rough outlines of the ranges of the subspecies, which cannot be accurately defined in many cases.
The egg dates are the condensed results of a mass of records taken from the data in a large number of the best ege collections in the country, as well as from contributed field notes and from a few pub- lished sources. They indicate the dates on which eggs have been actually found in various parts of the country, showing the earliest and latest dates and the limits between which half the dates fall, the height of the season.
The plumages are described only in enough detail to enable the reader to trace the sequence of molts and plumages from birth to maturity and to recognize the birds in the different stages and at the different seasons. No attempt has been made to describe fully the adult plumages; this has been done very well in the many manuals now available. The names of colors, when in quotation marks, are taken from Ridgway’s Color Standards and Color Nomencla-
vi
VIII BULLETIN 167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
ture (1912), and the terms used to describe the shapes of eggs are taken from his Nomenclature of Colors (1886). The boldface type in the measurements of eggs indicates the four extremes of the measurements.
Many of those who contributed material for previous bulletins have continued to cooperate. Receipt of material from over 365 contrio- utors has been acknowledged previously. In addition to these, our thanks are due to the following new contributors: Klauss Abegg, R. G. Bee, Henry Beston, J. C. Braly, J. F. Brenckle, J. V. Coevering, A. A. Cross, C. T. Dalgety, F. R. Decker, H. C. Denslow, J. B. Dixon, W.S. Duncan, C. L. Field, F. H. Fowler, A. F. Ganier, H. K. Gloyd, W. A. Goelitz, W. C. Hanna, H. L. Harllee, Eric Hearle, H. G. Heggeness, John Helton, Jr., F. H. Holmes, J. C. Howell, R. H. Imler, L. B. Kalter, Curtis Kingsbury, W. 5. Long, E. D. Lumley, V. L. Marsh, J. H. McNeile, Lotta T. Melcher, D. V. Messer, James Moffitt, J. A. Moore, T. E. Musselman, Margaret M. Nice, W. H. Nicholson, W. P. Owen, Theed Pearse, Mrs. H. R. Peasley, J. S. Rowley, C. D. Scott, A. R. Sharp, Jr., L. O. Shelley, C. F. Smith, I’. R. Smith, G. D. Sprot, Lawrence Stevens, Paul Thompson, R. W. Tufts, C. E. Underdown, H. S. Vaughn, L. H. Walkinshaw, and R. 8. Woods.
Through the courtesy of the Bureau of Biological Survey, the services of Frederick C. Lincoln were again obtained to compile the distribution paragraphs. With the matchless reference files of the Biological Survey at his disposal, his many hours of careful work have produced results far more satisfactory than could have been attained by the author, who claims no credit and assumes no respon- sibility for this part of the work.
Dr. Charles W. Townsend and Dr. Winsor M. Tyler rendered valuable assistance in reading and indexing, for this group, the greater part of the periodicals relating to North American birds, which saved the author many hours of tedious work and for which his thanks are due. Dr. Townsend also contributed the entire life histories of two species, Dr. Tyler one, and the Rev. F. C. R. Jourdain one.
Thanks are due to the late Owen Durfee for many hours of careful work in collecting and arranging a great mass of data on egg dates, and to I’. Seymour Hersey for figuring egg measurements.
The manuscript for this volume was completed in May 1936. Con- tributions received since then will be acknowledged later. Only information of great importance could be added. ‘The reader is reminded again that this is a cooperative work; if he fails to find in these volumes anything that he knows about the birds, he can blame himself for not having sent the information to
Tue Avrnor.
LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN BIRDS OF, PREY:
ORDER FALCONIFORMES (Part 1)
By ArtHur CLEVELAND BENT Taunton, Massachusetts
Order FALCONIFORMES Family CATHARTIDAE: American Vultures
GYMNOGYPS CALIFORNIANUS (Shaw) CALIFORNIA CONDOR
HABITS
Far from the haunts of man, in the wilder portions of southern California, among the most rugged and rocky gorges and canyons of the less frequented mountain ranges, this magnificent vulture, the largest and grandest of its tribe, still survives. Here in the remote fastnesses of the untamed wilderness it still finds comparative free- dom from the dangers of advancing civilization and may long con- tinue to exist. To see one of these great birds in the solitude of its native haunts gives a thrill well worth the time and effort required. Few have enjoyed the experience, and many are not equal to the task. Only once have I had the opportunity, on March 17, 1929, when the Peyton brothers guided us to the home of the condors in the moun- tains of Ventura County. It was a long hard climb up a steep, brush-covered slope to the top of a ridge and then a long walk down a wooded mountain trail to the head of a deep rocky canyon. From the trail we could look across the canyon to the rocky summits of the mountains, the home of the condors, where we were delighted to see four of the great birds soaring above the summits or sitting on the rocks. Once two of them sailed over us, near enough for us to see their yellow heads and the conspicuous white patches in their wings. As the trail dipped down into the canyon we found our- selves in the bed of a rocky mountain stream, where we separated to visit three former nesting sites of the condors. My party scram- bled down the rough bed of the stream and then up a very steep,
i
er BULLETIN 167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
rocky slope, climbing over the rocks and clawing our way over or around cliffs, for an hour and a half, until we reached a huge, irregular boulder perched on the shoulder of the mountain, near the top. Under this boulder, in more or less remote cavities, were three old nesting sites of the California condor, one of which was quite open and visible from the outside. L. G. Peyton said that the con- dors had not nested under this rock for several years, but the nests smelled and looked as if they had been occupied more recently. I brought home three large black feathers as trophies. (PI. 2.)
The California condor has never enjoyed a wide distribution, being confined mainly to the hot interior valleys and mountains of Cali- fornia, west of the Sierra Nevada. It formerly ranged north to the Columbia River and even Vancouver Island, as a straggler; its range also extended south into northern Lower California. With the spread of civilization in California its numbers have been steadily reduced and its range gradually restricted to the few remote locali- ties where it is still found. Several of the earlier writers on Cali- fornia birds noted the alarming decrease and predicted its early extinction. I doubt if it was ever an abundant species, as compared with the other vultures, although “Dr. Canfield informed Dr. Cooper that he has seen as many as one hundred and fifty of these birds at one time and place in the vicinity of antelopes he had killed” (Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway). William R. Flint wrote to Major Bendire (1892): “The largest number I have ever seen at one time during late years was in the summer of 1884, when I saw fourteen together.” Major Bendire himself had seen “from six to fifteen on several occa- sions” in Inyo County. Mrs. Bailey (1902) says that “in 1894 Mr. Stephens actually encountered a flock of twenty-six of these mag- nificent birds.” I was told of 17 being seen at one time recently in Ventura County. The birds seem to be holding their own in certain restricted localities and might survive permanently if rigidly pro- tected and if poisoning were stopped.
Nesting—¥or most of our information on the home life of the condor we are indebted to William L. Finley (1906), who found a nest in the mountains of southern California on March 10, 1906; by making many subsequent visits to it, he gave us a very interesting life history study of this species. He describes the nest as follows: “We climbed to the rock above and found it was a huge bowlder set well into the mountain. Against this was leaning a big stone slab about ten feet high. This left a space about two by six feet and open at each end. This cave was lined with leaves and fine rock and in the middle was one big egg. We thought it was not far from hatching by its glossy surface and the tenacity with which the mother stayed on her nest.”
CALIFORNIA CONDOR 3
The condor is no nest builder but lays its single egg on the bare coil, gravel, or rocky floor of some more or less inaccessible cave or crevice in a cliff, or under rocks or boulders on the side of a mountain canyon. Sometimes the crevice is barely large enough to admit the bird and at other times it is quite open. H. R. Taylor (1895) tells of a nest in a large open cave “about 20 feet wide, 30 feet high, and 16 feet deep” in a cliff 120 feet high on the south side of a mountain. “The nest was on the bare stone. In front was a slight ridge of decomposed stone, which had been raked up by the bird to keep the egg from rolling cut, while on the other side was the bare rock.” Bendire (1892) mentions, apparently on hear- say evidence, “the eggs having been laid in the hollow of a tall old robles oak, in a steep barranca, near the summit of one of the highest peaks.” Again he says that “it is possible that at times they make use of the abandoned nests of the Golden Eagles.” Both of these statements seem doubtful and need confirmation.
A nest found in San Luis Obispo County is thus described by W. L. Dawson (1923) :
The aperture of the nesting cave was midway of the face of a sloping stretch of sandstone, not too steep, perhaps, for inspection without the aid of a rope, but too steep for comfortable work. The entrance was just twelve inches high in the clear and nineteen inches wide; but the struggles of the emerging birds had broken out fragments of the thin wall on each side, so that three inches of this total width was plainly “artificial.” This opening gave access to a lens-shaped cavity some six feet in horizontal depth by ten in length and two or two and a half feet high in the clear. The floor was of fine dry sand several inches in depth, and upon this at the remotest distance a baby Condor hissed and roared.
There are three California condors confined in a large flying cage in the National Zoological Park in Washington. They were received, as birds of the year, in 1901 and 1903. Two of them are supposed to be a mated pair. When about 12 years old one of these birds laid an egg on the bare floor of a large wooden shelter, and she has continued to lay an egg nearly every year since. But the eggs have never hatched, even when placed in an incubator.
Eggs—The California condor lays only one egg in a season; and apparently it does not lay every year; hence it reproduces very slowly. The egg is quite elongated, varying in shape from elliptical-ovate to elongate-ovate. The shell is finely granulated and without gloss when fresh; after it has been incubated for some time it becomes smoother and glossier. Some specimens have small pimples or wartlike excrescences on the surface. The color is plain greenish white, bluish white, or dull white. The measurements of 46 eggs average 110.2 by 66.7 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 120 by 68, 110.5 by 71, 102.4 by 67.4, and 103.6 by 62.9 millimeters.
4 BULLETIN 167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
Young.—The period of incubation is said to be from 29 to 31 days. Whether both sexes incubate does not seem to be known.
Mr. Finley (1906) was fortunate enough to begin his study of the young bird at the very beginning, for on his second visit the condor chick had only recently hatched. He writes:
When we climbed over where we could look between the rocks and see into the cave, the old bird was on. I went closer and could see her bald head of orange color, and the great black bird still sat on the nest. I climbed up within four feet of her and whistled and yelled till she rose on her feet. She looked so big that I shrank back at the thought of her pitching in to defend her young, for when she rose, I glanced in and saw a youngster not larger than the egg [see pl. 3]. His head was bald like his mother’s, but baldness did not signify age in this case, altho his head was fleshy-pink in color. He was weak for he could hardly kick, and he seemed to raise his head with difficulty as he cried out in a wheezing, hissing note. Beside him lay the end of the egg from which he had emerged not many hours before. He was not yet dry. He was not even well clothed, for behind his little wings, the flesh was bare and his belly was bare, while the rest of his coat was down of pure white.
At first the mother arose and her neck feathers ruffled up in anger. Then as her baby began to squirm, she put her head down and covered him partly with her bare neck.
Being unable to scare the old bird from the nest and wishing to photograph the young one, Mr. Finley gently removed the young bird. The little fellow became so chilled during this process that its mother would not accept it. Mr. Finley revived it with the heat from his own body and returned it to the nest again. “For an instant she paid no attention to him, but just then he began to stir and wriggle. Her eyes changed from their vacant stare; she sud- denly seemed to recognize her nestling, and putting her bill down she drew him gently near, crouching down at the same time and finally drawing him under her breast.”
When Mr. Finley (1908) made his third trip to the nest, on April 11, 1906, the young condor was 19 or 20 days old. He says:
When we climbed around to the nest, we found the condor nestling had grown from the size of the egg, or from about a double handful, till he filled my hat. The down on his body had changed color from a pure white to a light gray. Instead of the flesh color on his head and neck, it had changed to a dull yellow. He sat with his shoulders humped and his head hung as if in the last stage of dejection. The minute he saw me, he began crying in a note most peculiar for a bird, for it sounded exactly like the hoarse tooting of a small tin horn. However, he only used this note a few times; then he began hissing. He showed his resentment by drawing in his breath and letting it escape as if thru his nose. His feet were short and stubby, the feet of a scavenger. What a deterioration from the eagle! The claws were like those of a chicken rather than a bird of prey. The head, the bill and even the look in the eye were very different from the savage expression of the eagle even in his babyhood.
CALIFORNIA CONDOR 5
On April 25, they found the old bird sound asleep in the nest, brooding the nestling; after she left the youngster showed fight.
The young condor was growing steadily, for he was now thirty-five days old and as large as a good-sized chicken [see pl. 3]. His whole body was covered with dark gray down with the outer edgings of lighter gray. When I put down my elbow, he lunged forward and struck it such a hard blow with his bill that it would have drawn blood had he hit my bare hand. The minute I appeared, his neck puffed out with wind and his whole crop filled till it felt just like a rubber ball. He seemed to use his crop as a supply tank for air, which he blew out slowly thru his nose to express his anger. He sat with his head down and mouth open. The front part of his tongue was round and it folded over from each side and met in a little crease down the front. About an inch back, it looked as if it were partly cut in two, for it was narrower and flatter. Such a breath as that youngster had! I could not describe it, and I tried to forget it as soon as possible.
That evening we watched the old condor to see if she would go back to the nest. But at six o’clock she settled down on her perch with her head drawn in, and went to sleep. The young condor had to sleep alone.
Of the later development of the young condor Mr. Finley (1908) says: “The young condor was now fifty-four days old, but he was still clothed in gray down [see pl. 4]. It was over two months before the first black feathers began to show on his wings, and they developed very slowly; for by the first week in July when we had expected to complete our series, the young bird was not half feathered out, altho he was three months and a half old and weighed over fifteen pounds.”
By July 6 the young condor was about two-thirds grown and was transported to Mr. Finley’s home in Oregon. He was fed twice a day with about a pound of raw meat and given plenty of water. He showed a decided preference for fresh beef and would reject anything else, unless forced by hunger; he especially disliked any , stale or tainted meat. He made a most interesting pet and was very tame, affectionate, and playful. By the middle of August he “was well fledged except that his breast was still covered with gray down. By another month this was replaced by brown feathers. With wings extended, he measured over eight feet. He weighed twenty and a half pounds and was forty-six inches in length. The wing feathers were strong, but they could not yet support his heavy body, for as yet he could fly but a few yards.” (PI. 4.)
On September 29, 1906, General, as he was named, went to New York to take up permanent quarters in the New York Zoological Park. His former master was not forgotten, however, for Mr. Finley (1910) writes:
During the month of December, 1906, while I was in New York, I went out to see General and was allowed to enter the cage with him. The minute I got near enough, he began nibbling my buttons and putting his head under my arm.
6 BULLETIN 167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
I did not see the young condor again until December 6, 1908, when I was in New York. I again entered his cage and found him as friendly and affec- tionate as ever. He nibbled the buttons on my coat and wanted to be petted. I was very much surprised to find that he showed no signs of bright color about his head, as it was covered with short gray down. He had been in good health, but at the age of almost three years he had not acquired the bright coloring of his parents. It is interesting to note that the head of a newly- hatcht condor, as well as that of the old bird, is perfectly bald; yet the head of the immature condor for the first few years is covered with a thick coat of furry down.
Plumages.—The foregoing quotations from Mr. Finley’s articles tell us all we know about the development of plumages in the young condor, white down at first, followed by gray down, the first plum- age appearing during the fourth month.
Even at three years of age the condor’s head was still covered with gray down, showing none of the bright colors of the adult. Mr. Finley (1908) describes the colors of the adult as follows:
Their bills were of dark horn color and the red skin of the head extended down covering the bill about half way. The feet were of similar color, but on each knee was a patch of red. There was a brighter patch of red on the breast of each bird, which could occasionally be seen when they were preening and when they spread their breast feathers. Both had light-colored wing- bars and the primaries were well worn. The skin on the throat hung loose and the lower mandible fitted in close under the upper, giving the bird a peculiar expression. The chin was orange and below this on the neck was a strip of greenish-yellow merging into brighter orange on the sides and back of the neck. The top and front of the head were bright red, but between the eyes was a small patch of black feathers, and these extended down in front of the eye till they faded into the orange red of the neck. The pupil of the eye was black, but the iris was deep red and conspicuous. The top of the head was wrinkled as if with age. The ruff, or long shiny black feathers about the neck, was often ruffled up, giving the bird a savage appearance. Behind the ruff on the back the feathers were edged with dark brown.
I have not seen enough material to work out the molts of adults, but, as the parents referred to above were in worn plumage in July and as Mr. Finley (1908) saw a third bird with feathers missing from wings and tail, a complete molt probably occurs late in sum- mer. Experience with the birds in the National Zoological Park suggests that even in a wild state the young birds require a long time to reach the breeding age. Young birds show little or no white in the under wing coverts.
Food.—Mr. Finley’s young condor was a very clean feeder, reject- ing any meat that was not fresh or the bodies of dead game birds and mammals. When the flesh of squirrels or birds was mixed with fresh beef, he would always pick out the beef and leave the other things. But the California condor is a vulture and naturally has food habits similar to those of other vultures, though it probably
CALIFORNIA CONDOR ib
prefers to feed on a freshly killed animal. Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway (1905) have covered the subject very well, as follows:
Often when hunting in the Tejon Valley, if unsuccessful, they would be several hours without seeing one of this species; but as soon as they succeeded in bringing down any large game, these birds would be seen rising above the horizon before the body had grown cold, and slowly sweeping towards them, intent upon their share of the game. In the absence of the hunter, unless well protected, these marauders will be sure to drag out from its concealment the slain animal, even though carefully covered with branches. Dr. Heermann states that he has known them to drag out and devour a deer within an hour. This vulture possesses immense muscular power. Dr. Heermann has known four of them to drag the body of a young grizzly bear, that weighed over a hundred pounds, the distance of two hundred yards. Dr. Cooper states that it visits the Columbia River in autumn, when its shores are lined with great numbers of dead salmon, on which, in company with other birds and various animals, it feasts for a couple of months.
Behavior —The flight of the California condor is a superb exhibi- tion of graceful ease and grandeur as it floats steadily along on its great wings, a powerful and skillful master of the air. On account of its great size its flight seems slow, but it really travels very fast; a mere speck in the distant sky rapidly develops into a great black bird, sweeping overhead with seven or eight strokes of its white-lined wings, curved upward at the tips, followed by prolonged periods of graceful sailing, until, all too soon, it disappears in the distance. From its perch on a tree or rock the bird launches itself with a few great flaps into a glorious sailing flight; but when rising from the ground it must run, hop, and flap along for 50 or 60 feet before taking the air, much like the take-off of an airplane. Then it soars in wide circles, mounting higher and higher on the ascending cur- rents of warm air, until it is almost lost to sight in the ethereal blue. Illustrating its mastery of the air, Mr. Dawson (1923) relates the following incident, as witnessed by Claude C. L. Brown:
Just because the sails of this bird are so accurately trimmed for the utiliza- tion of light breezes, the craft itself is unable to make headway against a strong wind. Not even by flapping can the Condor negotiate a breeze above a certain intensity. What the bird does in such an emergency is best told by Brown, who was once present on a quite critical occasion. * * * Presently he deseried four Condors approaching from the far northeast, but before they came up a smart breeze sprang up from the southwest, and presently it whistled over the peaks with increasing fury. The birds were baffled on the very last mile of their approach. They tacked back and forth, down wind, or struggled valiantly in the teeth of the gale, only to be Swept away again and again. The cold sea breeze had it in for them, and though it was only mid- afternoon, it began to look to the observer like a case of sleeping out that night. But off to the southeastward some twenty or thirty miles, the Carisso plains lay baking in the sun. The focal point of this great oven was sending up a huge column of heated air, as evidenced by clouds slowly revolving at the height of a mile or so above the plain. What followed can best be given in Mr.
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Brown’s own words: “Presently one of the Condors gave up the fight, sailed a mile or so to the eastward, and, after circling to gain elevation, made away in a bee-line for the southeast. In a short time the other three went through the same manoeuver and followed after their companion. I now brought my telescope into action and I never took the glass off the birds although they became mere specks in the sky. The Condors did not swerve from their course until they entered the spiral cloud. Upon striking that ascending column of air they rose rapidly, apparently without effort, as a balloon might rise, being now and again lost to view in the fleecy folds of ascending vapor, until within an incredibly short space of time they emerged above the clouds, into a higher region of absolute clearness, say three miles above the earth. Here they must have found themselves well above and quite free from the lower currents of air which had plagued them, for now they sailed straight to the westward, descended and—glided triumphantly homeward on the wings of their ancient enemy, the southwest gale!
“IT do not think that more than thirty minutes had elapsed from the time the Condors gave up the fight till they were safely at roost in their rookery; yet these birds must have traveled somewhere from fifty to seventy miles to accomplish their purpose, and the whole performance took place without the flap of a wing.”
Audubon (1840) quotes J. K. Townsend as saying: “In walking they resemble a Turkey, strutting over the ground with great dig- nity; but this dignity is occasionally lost sight of, especially when two are striving to reach a dead fish, which has just been cast on the shore; the stately walk then degenerates into a clumsy sort of hopping canter, which is any thing but graceful.”
California condors are generally considered to be very shy birds; most observers have been unable to approach them near enough for an effective shot with a gun or even a rifle; but there are exceptions to the rule. W. R. Flint in 1884, was able to approach to within 30 yards of a flock of 14, according to Bendire (1892) ; and Dr. Cooper (1890) walked right up to an apparently healthy adult bird and could have killed it with a hammer. Mr. Finley (1908) won the confidence of the pair of condors that he studied, as is amply illus- trated in the marvelous series of pictures he and Mr. Bohlman took within a few feet of them. These birds were very gentle and affectionate with each other and with their offspring. Mr. Finley (1908) writes:
While ascending the steep slope to the nest, a large bowlder was accidentally loosened and narrowly missed taking the camera man along as it dropped into the canyon with a loud report. The next moment, the old condor, aroused from her nest, flapped to her perch in the dead tree directly over our heads. We watched and waited, hoping she would return to the nest. But after about fifteen minutes, she raised her wings, hooked her bill about the stump, parrot fashion, and climbed to a higher perch. We crawled on up behind a cover of rocks to get a picture. While fixing the camera, I looked up and the old male was just alighting beside his mate on the dead tree. We crouched down to watch. If the birds saw us, they paid no attention to our presence. The mother edged along the limb and put her head under his neck. Then she
CALIFORNIA CONDOR 9
nosed him as if asking to be fed, but he responded rather coldly by moving away and she followed. This crowded him out where the limb was too small, and he jumped across back of her. He seemed to get more friendly and the two sat there side by side, nibbling and caressing each other.
He says also that “they were almost devoid of fear, for several times they stood within five or six feet of us in perfect unconcern.” But they were not so friendly to a third condor that twice appeared on the scene; once the old male condor gave chase and eventually drove the intruder away.
Mr. Finley’s condors were very clean about their nest, and the young captive bird seemed to be very fond of clear running water. A. M. Shields (1895) says: “The California Condor is a much cleaner bird than is generally accredited, as one of its favorite habits is to assemble on the bank of some secluded mountain pool and spend hours at a time in bathing and standing around the margin of the clear, cold water. Hunters on coming upon a far removed body of water in localities frequented by the birds, often find numbers of immense feathers around the edge of the stream, discarded by the birds during some of their fresh-water baths.”
Carroll Dewilton Scott contributes the following notes:
As in the case of most birds and animals with sirong individualities, condors appear to be fond of play. In the wild state this most often takes the form of swooping down at another condor. The other bird never seems to resent it and parries the pretended stroke with a deft turn of the body. After swoop- ing at each other several times both birds will presently be sailing about in intersecting circles. One day while I was watching a pair about their nesting eave, both birds lit on neighboring rocks. After a few minutes one of them swung toward the other, and both navigated for a quarter of a mile, first one, then the other, making the dashes. At length they turned and calmly glided back to their respective lookouts. On another occasion, in winter, I was watching a group from a mountain ridge. Presently three immature condors came gliding overhead, their wings partly bowed, making a rushing sound like a stormwind through pine trees. As indicated by their future movements they were not going anywhere in particular. They were just playing. One of them evidently was surprised to see me, for he tried to turn so suddenly that he almost turned a somersault. But he recovered his balance and sailed back over me, then bowed his wings again and shot away in pursuit of his com- panions. In captivity, condors are fond of toying with bones, ribbons, or pieces of paper, no doubt to relieve the tedium of imprisonment. One day a friend of mine and I played for half an hour with a condor at the San Diego Zoo. His kittenish antics were laughable as he thrust his head along the sand or stuck his beak through the wire meshes of his cage coaxing us to give him attention.
Field marks.—The immense size of the California condor, larger than even the golden eagle, and the white under wing coverts are the most conspicuous characters. Its wings measure 9 or 10 feet in extent, and when the bird is soaring the tips of the primaries are
curved upward and slightly forward. If near enough the brightly 83561—37——2
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colored head may be seen. Young birds have darker under wing coverts and dusky heads and necks.
E’nemies.—The condor has no enemies of consequence except man; and man has gone a long way toward the extermination of this grand species. It seems to be a common trait in human nature to want to kill any large creature, and in the early days when these birds were unsophisticated many were wantonly killed. Poisoned carcasses set out to destroy predatory animals killed a great many of them. Many condors were killed for their quills, which were useful for carrying gold dust. In the early days it was easy to kill them with a rifle or even with a shotgun loaded with buckshot. Sometimes, when gorged with food, they could be lassoed or even killed with some missile thrown at them. Mr. Shields (1895) says:
Among the latter contrivances for their destruction, one of the most fre- quently employed was “penning.” This consisted of four-sided portable pens about six feet square and five in height. These were placed in convenient localities with the carcass of.a sheep or goat temptingly displayed within; the voracious bird would soon spy the tempting morsel, and settle down for a feast, but when he came to rise it was different, as the small diameter of the pen absolutely prevented the full stretching of his wings, and, being unable to make the upright leap of four or five feet, he was a secure prisoner and an easy prey to the herder and his club, when making the rounds of his traps. It was strange that this bird, so conspicuously wary at the present time, should in those days have manifested so little of that quality, as certain it is that the traps would constantly claim their victims practically as long as the birds heid out.
There is a modern menace in the high-tension power lines, on which many large birds are electrocuted by making a contact across the wires when they spread their wings. As I have not seen such casual- ties mentioned, perhaps the condors have not learned to alight on such dangerous perches. Public sentiment now seems to favor the condor, and, as it is protected by law, we hope it will long continue to survive in the wilder portions of California, as one of the many glories of the Golden State.
Carroll Dewilton Scott has sent me the following interesting notes on the condor-killing ceremony practiced in primitive times by the southern California Indians, as one of several mourning festivals:
Three birds were used as convenience dictated, the bald and golden eagles and the California condor. One idea back of the ceremony was that the spirits of the dead, especially the spirits of children, could mount to the Indian’s heaven on the wings of great fliers like the eagle and the condor. Another was that the bird was a messenger from the living to the dead. Though an authentic and picturesque incident in the life history of the condor, there is no evidence that it played the least part in the destruction of condors that took place mainly between 1875 and 1895, when Americans were rapidly settling the State.
The essential part of the ceremony was as follows: The Indians gathered around a campfire in the evening. Groups of 10 or 20 Indians, under leaders
CALIFORNIA CONDOR 11
skilled in singing ancient songs and executing dances relating to the mythology of the ceremony, would perform. The dancing and singing continued until 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning. About this time the bird was brought in and danced with around the fire and passed from one performer to another. Finally the chief would seize the bird, now nearly dead with rough handling and suffocation. It was supposed to be killed by magic, without the shedding of blood, but was practically put to death by twisting its backbone or by pressure on its heart. It was then skinned, the feathers being saved for future dancing skirts, and the body placed in a hole within the circle of performance. Old women then gathered about the place of interment, threw seeds and food on the carcass, asked enig- matic questions of the dead bird, and indulged in weeping and lamentations. After the usual exchange of presents, wearing apparel and food, the party dispersed.
I examined two condor-feather dancing skirts that contained 48 and 70 plumes, respectively. The plumes were fastened at the quill end to cord belts made of twisted strands of milkweed fibers. The primaries were placed at ends of the belt, the secondaries and tail feathers in the middle. One of the skirts was made from a condor that was shot at the reservation in 1926.
Winter—Mr. Scott has this to say about the concentration of con- dors in winter:
After the condor chick is half a year old and able to perch about the ancestral cave, the condors of a region congregate in companies as do the turkey vultures. The buzzards go south or gather along the California coast in “roosts”, but the condors are nonmigratory. In earlier times, however, they were accustomed, no doubt, to move over wide areas. Pioneers testify that in the sixties and seventies within their chosen range flocks of condors were fully as large as those of buzzards. Where food was plentiful they often gathered in enormous numbers. One such concentration was witnessed by Hector Angel, of Mesa Grande. In March 1886, just after the buzzards had returned, a late snow killed 3,000 lambs on the famous Warner Ranch. Angel rode for a mile through acres of turkey vultures and condors. “There may have been 1,000 condors and 5,000 buzzards for all I can tell”, he declared.
Nowadays it is rare for an individual condor to leave the protection of the Santa Barbara National Forest at any season. But the remnant gather as of old for social or feeding purposes. I had the good fortune to witness the activities of a band of 15 on the ranch of Eugene Percy, 8 miles northeast of Fillmore, on January 17, 1936. There were several dead cattle on the ranch and condors were in the sky all day. Twice the company of 15 sailed overhead. They glided and spiraled and shot through the air like rockets. They wheeled about old carcasses, sometimes alighting in trees or on the ground. In the evening they went to roost in groups of two to five in dead trees on the mountainsides, where it was possible to ride a horse around a tree without making them take wing. Only three days before, my host had counted 30 in the sky at once and had surprised a flock of 12 at the carcass of a dead calf.
DISTRIBUTION
Range.—Western and Southern United States and northern Lower California. Nonmigratory.
The California condor is now greatly reduced in numbers and is confined to the south-central coast ranges of California from Monte-
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rey, Bear Valley, and San Benito south to the Cuyamaca Mountains, Santiago Canyon, and Ventura County.
Its former range extended north to northern Oregon (mouth of the Columbia River and Multnomah). East to Nevada (cave remains near Las Vegas) and New Mexico (cave remains in Rocky Arroyo, northwest of Carlsbad). In the south the range extended into northern Lower California (San Fernando, Colorado Delta, Laguna Mountains, and San Pedro Martir Mountains).
Casual records—¥leming (1924) records a specimen from Fort Vancouver, Wash., in the spring of 1827. In British Columbia, Fannin (fide Kermode, 1904) reported seeing two at Burrard Inlet in September 1880, while Rhoads (1893) states that condors were reported on Lulu Island as late as “three or four years ago.”
This species undoubtedly was more widely distributed in geologic times, as Wetmore (1931) has identified condor bones in Pleistocene deposits of fossils from the Seminole area, near St. Petersburg, Fla. Abundant remains of California condors also have been obtained from the Pleistocene asphalt beds of Rancho La Brea, Los Angeles, Calif.
Egg dates——California: 88 records, February 17 to May 28; 19 records, March 23 to April 25.
CATHARTES AURA SEPTENTRIONALIS Wied TURKEY VULTURE
HABITS CONTRIBUTED BY WINSOR MARRETT TYLER
When we travel southward along the Atlantic Seaboard, soon after we cross the invisible line that separates the Transition Zone from the Upper Austral (the map shows us to be in the State of New Jersey), we begin to see from time to time dark spots high up in the sky. They seem stationary at first sight; then, as we watch, we see that they are moving, swinging often in wide circles, and when one of them comes near, we see it is a great dark bird sailing through the air. We have entered the domain of the turkey vulture, the chief avian scavenger of the United States; a big bird with long broad wings, with a keen sense of sight and of smell and, utilitarian as well as aesthetic, a plumage that does not show the dirt, and a naked head and neck like the bare arms of a butcher; a bird of prey, one of the Raptores, but one that does not inflict death, but searches and watches and waits until it comes upon the dead. Then the feast begins.
Spring.—Toward the northern limit of the bird’s breeding range an increase in its numbers is noted at the approach of spring. Thus
TURKEY VULTURE 13
Thomas H. Jackson (1903), writing of southeastern Pennsylvania, says, “Early in April, with the advent of settled weather, they be- come quite numerous, and at once show an attachment for the old nesting sites, to which they seem to return for many years.”
Louis B. Kalter reports (MS.) a flock of 30, apparently migrants, going westward over Yellow Springs, Ohio, on March 20, 1933, at 4.30 p.m. Dr. O. L. Inman reported to him that “during part of the time they were in sight, they seemed to hold rather a loose formation, when most of them would be going in the same general direction. Then they would break and wheel about for a short time, only to reform their loose formation.”
Dr. F. M. Chapman (1933) made observations at Barro Colorado Island that point to an extensive northbound migration of vultures late in February and March. Large numbers of the birds, several hundred together on one occasion, passed over the island, following the course adopted by kingbirds and barn swallows on their route northward (at this point southwest). He says: “Usually they sailed straight ahead without stopping but at times they circled, though still drifting southward.”
One day they flew over the island at a height of 4,000 to 5,000 feet, and on another day, in the morning, Dr. Chapman found a number of vultures collected in trees. “These”, he says, “were ap- parently migrating birds which had roosted over night on the island and, becalmed, were waiting for enough wind to resume their flight.”
Wherever these birds were bound—a question impossible to an- swer definitely—Dr. Chapman’s observations indicate that the turkey vulture is, to a certain extent, highly migratory and that many individuals, gathered in flocks of considerable size, make a very long journey between their winter quarters and their breeding grounds.
Nesting—In any region, no matter how widely it may range, there is a limited number of places in which a bird as large as a turkey vulture can hide its nest. The vulture is a big bird; it must have room for its nest somewhere either inaccessible to predatory animals or where they cannot easily reach its eggs or young. There is the added danger that the odor of the food may proclaim the whereabouts of the nest after the eggs are hatched and the young birds have to be fed.
Many situations meet these requirements in some degree, notably on precipitous cliffs, of access only through the air, or in caves or hollow stumps, or in the midst of dense shrubbery where a narrow entrance limits the attack by enemies to one direction. In such locations the vulture lays its eggs on the ground, or on the bare stone of a cliff, or on the rotten chips in a hollow log with little or no attempt to make a nest.
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The literature contains descriptions of many nest sites of the vul- ture. The following citations show a variety of ways in which the bird has solved the problem of protecting its nest. The nest site is almost always on or near the ground, but in one case Isaac E. Hess (1910) found a nest “twenty feet up in a dead stump, and [another] six feet below the surface of the ground in the hollow of a rotten stump.” Manley B. Townsend (1914) notes another tree nest. He says: “At the very top [of a gigantic elm tree] there was the hollow, dead shell of the main trunk, and, in this, upon the bare decayed wood, two eggs as large as Turkey eggs.” Wil- liam Lloyd (1887) speaks of the birds in western Texas as “breeding in caves, but frequently on the bare edge of a bluff”, and in Texas also James J. Carroll (1900) mentions them as “selecting brush- heaps, clumps of chaparral, caves in arroya banks, and hollow trees.” Dr. T. Gilbert Pearson (1919) says: “I have found the eggs of these birds on a level with the ground in the hollow snag of an old tree, the entrance to which was at the top, 14 feet above.”
In the two following quotations water plays the part of the ancient moat in defending the vulture’s castle. In a letter to Mr. Bent, W. A. and George M. Smith describe a nest in Orleans County, N. Y. They write: “The nest we found was located in an old decayed hollow log which had fallen from its stump many years ago, and lay rotting amid a luxuriant growth of ferns and other swamp plants. There was nearly one foot of water all around, but the two eggs were placed on a bed of dry leaves and decayed wood.” (See pl. 6.)
Russell M. Kempton (1927) describes a similar nest in detail thus:
The nest is in a live soft maple tree, whose trunk slants on a sixty degree angle east by north and has a southern exposure; inside dimensions of the cavity are diameter twenty-eight inches; height, forty-two inches and its bot- tom is about forty inches from the ground. The top of the cavity is closed by dry decayed wood. The surrounding ground is swampy and during wet seasons water stands thirty inches deep around the base of the tree.
The nest is unlined, and the eggs were deposited on clean broken up punk * * ¥*, It was always clean (also the ground around the tree), from the time the eggs were laid until the nestlings left the nest. No offensive odors were noted during the five years of observation, (except when the nestlings would regurgitate for me).
Continuing, Kempton shows the vulture’s simple method of mak- ing her nest with materials near at hand.
The parent birds arrived March 18, and used the same nest to roost in during the cold wet spring. On several occasions during daylight in April, I found them in the nest standing with heads together, and they did not fly when I approached within ten feet of the tree. Visiting the nest on April 28, I watched them preparing the nest, by pulling at the dry rotten wood on the side walls of the cavity with their beaks. When a large piece came loose
TURKEY VULTURE 15
the female would hold it down with one foot and tear it into small bits, which she spread about on the floor, where the eggs were to be deposited. The interested male bird, was a hindrance in nest making, and every now and then the female placed her head under his breast and pushed him out of the way. Once he tumbled out of the tree. However, undaunted, he clambered back keeping his head down, so that his mate could not repeat her attack.
Mr. Kempton observed that “both birds alternately covered the eggs during incubation.”
Paul G. Howes (1926), in an account of a vulture’s nest in a cave in the State of New York, says: “Another point of interest to me was that there was absolutely no odor about the nest.” At this time the nest contained eggs, but on a later visit he remarks: “A very offensive odor emanated from the rocky shelter now for the first time, and as we approached very quietly, the old bird bounded clumsily to the rear of the cave. * * * The young one had hatched safely, had had its first taste of carrion, as its vile odor attested.”
Thomas H. Jackson (1903) reports an unusual nest site. He says: “I found a pair that had taken possession of an abandoned pig-sty in the woods, which furnished them an admirable place to set up housekeeping. Unfortunately, the smooth board floor had allowed one of their two eggs to roll away, and only one was hatched. Here they were safe from the attack of foxes, raccoons or other night prowlers.”
A. L. Pickens (1927), reporting some “out-of-the-ordinary” records, includes the following on the turkey vultures.
On May 1, 1927, I was at the home of Mr. Hlihu Wigington in Anderson County, S. C., and he took me to an old and neglected barn in a wood near his home to see a nest of this bird. I found the eggs, two in number, on the refuse of the stable floor, close up in a corner. About ten feet away a domestic hen was brooding on her nest in a pile of forage, the two being separated, however, by a low partition. The vulture could gain access to its nest through a small window in the stable, or through a door at some greater
distance. Mr. Wigington told me that this was the third year this place had been used by the Vulture for a breeding spot.
Of the time of nesting Bendire (1892) speaks as follows: “In most of the Southern States nidification begins usually about the latter part of March, occasionally even in February; in the Middle States generally about the last week in April or the beginning of May, and in the more northern portions of its range it may be protracted till June, according to the season.”
Charles E. Doe writes to us of a set of eggs he took from an old caracara’s nest, 20 feet up in a lone palmetto on a Florida prairie.
E£ggs.—[AvtHor’s Nore: The turkey vulture lays almost inva- riably two eggs, occasionally only one and very rarely three. I have a photograph (pl. 7) of a nest containing four, but they were in
16 BULLETIN 167, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
pairs a short distance apart and were probably the product of two females. The eggs are usually elliptical-ovate or elongate-ovate in shape, but a few are ovate and rarely one is cylindrical-ovate. The shell is smooth or very finely granulated, with little or no gloss. The ground color is dull white or creamy white. The eggs are prettily marked and sometimes nearly covered with spots, blotches, and splashes of bright browns. Generally they are boldly and ir- regularly blotched and spotted, sometimes sparingly or finely spotted, with dark browns, such as “chestnut”, “liver brown”, or “chocolate” and more rarely with “russet” or “cinnamon-brown”; they are often washed with one of the above browns and many have underlying spots in shades of “Quaker drab.” Very rarely one is nearly or quite immaculate. The measurements of 52 eggs average 71.3 by 48.6 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes meas- ure 83.5 by 50, 76 by 53, 62.5 by 50.5 and 71.3 by 43.7 millimeters. ]
Young—When the nature of the vulture’s food is considered, it seems almost inevitable that the young birds, in their earlier days, be fed by the process of regurgitation. Thus, one of the first as- sociations that the nestlings learn is that of the odor of decompos- ing animal matter with appetite and good digestion.
A. G. Lawrence, writing from Winnipeg, Manitoba, to Mr. Bent, describes the process, which he watched from a blind on the side of a cliff. “Both young rushed toward the female parent with wide- spread wings. The first to reach her thrust its bill well into the parent’s gullet, the old bird stretching out low over the rock to facilitate the exchange of regurgitated food. The feeding process was carried on so vigorously that it resembled a tussle, both birds swaying their heads up and down and from side to side and balancing themselves by raising their wings.”
As these young birds “were fully grown, but unable to fly”, this method of feeding may continue through the major portion of their protracted life as nestlings. Lawrence continues: “The young spent much of their time sunning themselves on the rocks outside the nesting cavity. They continually exercised their wings, spreading them out to their full extent whenever the sun shone and closing them when a cloud cut off its rays. They stood with backs to the sun, and their wings immediately responded to its warmth.”
Thomas H. Jackson (1903) estimates the period of incubation as “very close to thirty days, possibly a day more or less” and “the period between hatching and flight eight or nine weeks.” In the case of a nest under the observation of C. J. Pennock (MS.), these periods were somewhat longer; the incubation lasted about 41 days, and at the end of 74 days the young birds “had not been away from the near proximity of the site and had not flown at all.”
TURKEY VULTURE 17
Dr. Pearson (1919) says: “From eight to ten weeks are passed in and about the nest before the young are able to fly.” Jackson (1903) continues:
Young Turkey Vultures at a very early age display more intelligence than the young of any other raptores with which I am familiar. Their eyes are open from the first, and in less than a week they move about in their home, hiss vigorously, and show considerable alertness, but do not seem to have any fear at that age. At two weeks they show a great increase in size and weight, but otherwise have changed but little in appearance. They now resent being disturbed and snap at the intruder, and as they get older become quite pug- nacious, rushing at one with extended wings, uttering continually their loud hissing sound, which comes the nearest to any vocal performance I have ever heard from these birds. Their beaks are quite sharp and capable of injuring an unprotected hand.
On being approached they retire to the farthest corner of their den and there disgorge the contents of the stomach or crop.
H. Justin Roddy (1888), speaking of the nestlings as pets, says:
The young birds kept in captivity drank water freely from any vessel as a fowl drinks, but were fonder of drinking from some vessel, as a bottle, with a narrow opening partially inverted, that the liquid might flow out. This must be because it is similar to the opened bill of the parents.
They are very fond of thrusting the bill into the opening formed by the par- tially closed hand. I inferred from this fact the manner of feeding before I had an opportunity of observing it.
They are very fond of being caressed, or at least handled, especially so while feeding. In a few days after being placed in captivity they become fond of being handled, and soon follow persons about like dogs. They express pleasure by a low hiss; displeasure by a more forcible hiss.
Leon L. Gardner (1930), in a study of the body temperature of nestlings, states that “A young Turkey Buzzard early in its develop- ment attained the temperature normal to the species * * *. At one week of age it was 102.5 and at two weeks of age it had risen to and above the normal for the species. Thereafter there was a remarkable constancy of temperature at about 103.6 except when influenced by other factors [struggling]. The Buzzard therefore apparently stabilizes its temperature long before the appearance of feathers and while the general development of the body is still immature.”
Plumages.—[Avtruor’s Note: The young vulture is clad in a coat of long, cottony, white down, covering the whole body; a thinner coat of shorter white down extends onto the crown.
W. Bryant Tyrrell has sent us some elaborate notes based on his studies of a brood of young turkey vultures, from soon after hatch- ing up to the flight time, and has contributed an interesting series
of photographs illustrating the development of the juvenal plumage (pls. 8 and 9).
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The nest contained eggs on April 15 and April 30, and the young were hatched but still very small and helpless when the nest was next visited, on May 21; they were probably not over three or four days old; they were unable to hold up their heads and were com- pletely covered with white down, except on the black face. On June 4, the young were still covered with down, except that the primary quills were beginning to show, the sheaths protruding about three-quarters of an inch and tipped with down; they were now about 17 days old and about three times as large as they were on May 21. When about 37 days old, on June 24, the young were still covered with down, but “the primaries and secondaries and their coverts were about 4 inches long, and the tail feathers were about 3 inches long.” On July 4, when about 47 days old, “the birds were about two-thirds grown. The wing feathers were well developed, though still growing, and the tail feathers 314 inches long. The rest of the body was still covered with down, which came off easily.” When about 60 days old, on July 17, the wings appeared to be quite fully developed, the back was well feathered, and the plumage was coming in on the sides of the breast, but the neck and the remainder of the under parts were still downy. Mr. Tyrrell made his last visit to the nest on July 25, when the young birds were about 68 days old. “Both were well feathered, with down only about the breast and belly, and, in one, some still clinging to some of the feathers of the neck, looking like a ruffled collar.”
Apparently the juvenal plumage is not fully assumed, or the flight stage reached, until the young vulture is well over 10 weeks old.
The juvenal plumage is much like that of the adult, but with lighter edgings on the feathers of the mantle; the plumage is said to be darker when fresh, but it fades out to dull brown, “Verona brown” to “warm sepia.” The naked skin of the head and neck is blackish or livid brown, not red as in the adult; and the neck and crown of the head are scantily covered with short, dark brown, hairy down. This plumage is worn through the first winter. The annual molt of both young birds and adults begins late in winter or early in spring and continues gradually through the summer and early fall, the wings and tail being molted in September and October. The new body plumage, which appears first on the breast, neck, and back, is glossy, bluish black at first, but fades out later to dull, dark brown. |
Food.—The inability of the vulture to kill its prey has forced it to play the part of a scavenger, and the struggle for existence has driven it further. Where the bird is abundant, it cannot, like other Raptores, select its victim; it has to accept what chance presents.
TURKEY VULTURE 19
When death comes to any animal, its body becomes food for the vultures. As soon as the animal can no longer move, the meal is ready, and if a vulture finds a dead body, although it be warm from the life just flown, the bird begins at once to feed. But a large animal—a horse or a cow—cannot be finished, even by a company of voracious vultures, while the body is fresh. Putrefaction works fast and overtakes the birds, and the end of the meal becomes far ad- vanced in decomposition. Also it often happens, owing to the posi- tion of the body, or because it is submerged, or because the hide is too tough for the vulture’s beak to tear, that little or none of it is accessible to the birds. Then the vultures gather about the carcass, in large numbers if it be a big one, and wait patiently near at hand until time and decay, making it soft and ripe, shall fit it to their needs. Then they descend and strip it to the bone.
Thus evolution has led the vulture in its search for food away from the other Raptores and has compelled it to develop feeding habits that it shares with few companions among birds and mammals.
The vulture shows apparently little preference in its choice of food. It is a useful bird in the Southern States, where it disposes of the dead animals about the farms, and, as Dr. Pearson (1919) says, “in many a southern city the Vultures constitute a most effective street-cleaning department, and the garbage piles on the city’s dump- heaps are swept and purified by them. When the rancher of the West dresses cattle for home consumption or the market, his dusky friends in feathers gladly save him the trouble of burying the offal.”
Wright and Harper (1913), writing of the Okefinokee Swamp, re- mark that “it is astonishing how soon the buzzards appear over a spot where an alligator has been shot, and how quickly they trans- form its carcass into a bare skeleton.”
Florence A. Merriam (1896) reports from California that “Mr. W. W. Merriam watched two of the buzzards eating skunks. They began by pulling the skin from the head and ate till they came to the scent gland, which they left on the ground.”
Snakes appear to be a favorite food. Ivan R. Tomkins, in a letter to Mr. Bent, says: “I flushed two turkey buzzards from a clump of willows. On looking into the bushes to see what they were discuss- ing, I found the partly eaten remains of a cottonmouth moccasin that had been dead some time. The head had dried instead of decom- posing, and I picked it up with a forceps, and was able positively to identify it. The buzzards had eaten the meat off the back bone rather than swallowing the snake whole, as I would have expected.”
R. M. Kempton (1927) says “a reptile was evidently a choice relish, because one dead snake will call fifty vultures, more or less, to the vicinity of its demise.”
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Dr. Pearson (1919) writes: “To a limited extent, our southern Vultures feed on living animals. Newly-born pigs are killed by them, and, in some of the bird-colonies, * * * young Herons and Ibises are often eaten.” W. E. D. Scott (1892) corroborates this statement. He says that the vulture in Jamaica “is certainly not a carrion eater from choice, fresh meat being eagerly taken whenever an opportunity offers, and when sore pressed young and weakly chickens, etc., are taken up.”
The birds have been known to feed on grasshoppers, and they readily eat fish. Dr. Alexander Wetmore (1920) mentions that in New Mexico “they clambered over the piles of Potamogeton and algae cast up last year and left on the shore, picking at it experi- mentally, pulling off the surface and digging into the interior with their bills as they would into carrion.”
James Green (1927) reports a remarkable observation of finding a flock of 62 vultures, hard pressed for food, feeding on pumpkins. He says: “A few had been touched by frost, making them soft, and these had been all but pecked to shreds. But there were the marks of the buzzard’s powerful beaks on the sides of the big yellow pumpkins that otherwise were sound as a dollar.”
The young pigs left dead on the road by automobiles in the South- ern States afford opportunities to observe the dissecting habits of the vulture. A bird sails along, doubles back, alights, and, fold- ing its great wings, slowly approaches the pig. With head high and tail held well above the ground, it sidles about, wary and watchful lest the pig move, it seems; then reassured, it steps upon the body and, with a deft hook of its beak, extracts the eyeball and swallows it.
The vulture next nips through the skin and by tearing or pulling it back lays bare the muscles beneath. Three times I have seen vul- tures make their first incision over the upper part of the shoulder blade and pick out and devour the supraspinatus muscle before they touched any other part of the body, except the eye.
The vulture at its meal moves deliberately, but, like a skilled workman, surely. It is watchful of intrusion and will not tolerate the approach of other vultures while eating as small an animal as a young pig. It turns upon any vulture that comes near, but more with a remonstrance than a threat. Indeed, as we watch, we see that a solemn but strict etiquette governs the bird at its meal.
Mr. Bent once surprised a party of turkey vultures that were feeding on a lot of dead tadpoles that had become stranded by the drying up of a small pool in Florida. He has also often seen them feeding on the main highways there, where snakes, turtles, small birds, or small mammals have been killed by passing automo-
TURKEY VULTURE Di
biles, or where fish have been thrown away by fishermen. Often, when disturbed by an approaching automobile, the vulture will pick up some such small object in its bill and fly away with it.
Behavior—On the ground the vulture is an awkward bird, hop- ping clumsily, sometimes with a hitch sideways; it has a gawky walk. To get into the air it leans forward, stumbles onward with a few steps or hops, gives a push with its legs, and, with a visible effort, flops its wings, until at last it is under way and sails off.
In the air the vulture wins our admiration. Its great wings, long and broad, hold the bird aloft like a kite. Adjusting its wings to the wind, it progresses for miles with never a wing beat, or rises very high in the air, nearly out of sight from the ground. In soar- ing, the vulture raises its wings to a slight angle above the line of the back, making a shallow V in the sky, and often the wind pushes upward the separated tips of the primary feathers. As it moves along it sways a little from side to side, not rolling like a ship at sea, but teetering, balancing like a tight-rope walker, but slower. When the bird sweeps past us just above the treetops, we see the flight as a steady rush through the air; we see the head turn as the bird studies the ground.
Usually we see the turkey buzzards flying alone at no great height, but sometimes they collect in the sky, dozens together, and wheel about. The habit of gathering into flocks is much less marked than that of the black vulture, and they do not go in packs during the day as the latter birds do.
M. P. Skinner, writing to Mr. Bent of the buzzards’ habits, says of their roosting: “At night they gather in a roost, usually located on high trees in a low or swampy area in the depths of the forests. At other times I have seen single buzzards in pines comparatively near the ground as well as on the very tops.”
Ludlow Griscom tells me that the vulture is a late riser, seldom being seen on the wing until an hour after sunrise. The ground mists, which often obscure the southern lowlands early in the morn- ing, probably delay the vulture’s search for food until long after the time when most birds are stirring.
Mr. Tyrrell, in his notes, thus describes a flock of turkey vultures going to roost:
Today (February 22, 1982) at about 4.30, we were seated beneath a large white oak, whose upper limbs were white with excreta, while on the sombre floor of the forest beneath there was a whitish ring of the same material. As we sat there, the great birds would sail noiselessly over, sometimes their small, naked, red heads gleamed in the last rays of the sun, their dark, silver-lined wings moving only to catch movements of the air currents, as they glided by.
Some, after alighting, would shake themselves until every feather was ruffled, giving them a most unkempt appearance. Others would alight on a branch
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where one or more were already roosting, and the impact of the landing bird would throw them off their balance and result in many awkward and ludicrous balancing movements. Often they would sit and preen, and some were always watching the movements of the neighborhood, cocking their heads first on one side and then on the other to see each newcomer. A few seemed to be resting, cblivious of what was going on. There were 71 in three trees at 5 p. m.,, 113 at 5.25, and 147 at 5.55.
While brooding small young, the turkey vulture sticks to the nest tenaciously, appearing very tame or stupid, allowing itself to be handled or even feigning death. Mr. Tyrrell got close enough to one “to grab her, and lifted her off the young, she not showing any resist- ance. As I lifted her, she disgorged a mass of half-digested, decayed flesh that was plenty odorous. I held her over the nest by her wings, and every time we let her go, she would put her head under the log with only her back showing. We thought she must be sick or wounded, for she acted so queerly, always with her head hanging and not showing the least inclination to get away. It was suggested that we put her on top of the log and possibly get a picture of her, so we did; but no sooner had she touched the log than off she flew, soon to be joined by her mate.”
Speaking of their relation to other birds, Skinner notes that “small birds had no fear of the buzzards and vultures flying over, although they quickly took alarm if a hawk appeared. Buzzards often swept over within a hundred feet of doves, meadowlarks * * * and many others without alarming them in the least.”
Since the days of Audubon naturalists have speculated on whether the vulture finds its food by sight or by scent. They have sought to find the answer by experiments on the bird and have published the results of many of these. After going carefully over the litera- ture on this fascinating subject—too large a field to do more than summarize here—a reader cannot feel convinced that the problem has been definitely solved, even now. ‘The evidence shows him that the vulture has keen eyesight and that it has an acute sense of smell. The reader finds running through the controversy, however, a great deal of contradiction and refutation; no one article stands out as indisputable proof on either side to the exclusion of the other side, and many experiments present to the vulture problems that it would never meet under natural conditions,
Experiments in which food is concealed in boxes, covered by canvas, or wrapped up in paper parcels make trial only of the bird’s ingenuity; they do not call for the employment of the faculties with which nature has equipped the bird to use in finding its food. On the other hand, the experiment of exposing to the vulture’s view the stuffed skin of an animal arranged to simulate a carcass does call into play the food associations of the bird. However, when the
TURKEY VULTURE 93
bird is not lured to the bait, it may be either because its nostrils do not inform it of the presence of food or because its eyes do inform it of the deception. Another difficulty in interpreting the vulture’s behavior arises from its habit of reconnoitering before it begins a meal.
The vulture does not have to move quickly to catch its prey; it has only to find out where it is, and to make sure that the body is ready to be eaten—that it will not move. There is never need to hurry, so the bird reconnoiters, examining from a distance with a deliberation that allows time for the use of all its senses. Therefore, experiments conducted on birds in the field, presumably in possession of all their senses, do not suffice to show whether the bird is seeking its food by one sense or another, or by a combination of senses, but merely test the bird’s general intelligence.
P. J. Darlington, Jr. (19380) has made, from the viewpoint of an entomologist, some very interesting and novel observations on this subject, noting “a possible factor in the bird’s behavior which seems to have been overlooked.” Here is his story:
The first incident took place at the Harvard Tropical Laboratory on the Soledad sugar estate near Cienfuegos, Cuba. In November, 1926, some dead fish were put out near Harvard House to attract beetles, but were stolen by Turkey Buzzards the first day. The bait had been hidden under fairly large stones, and since it was placed beside a garden where people were frequently moving about, there is no reason to suppose that the birds were attracted by my actions. They may, indeed, have smelled the fish, but it seems just as likely that they saw the insects which collected and which would have given the set away to any intelligent human being. Near Santa Marta, Colombia, in 1928, the same sort of thing happened, for when dead iguanas were put out they were invariably discovered by Vultures, even when the baiting was done in scrubby woods. The most rational explanation in this case seemed to be that the birds had heard the carrion-drawn flies.
The literature to date leaves the reader with the belief that the vulture is a bird not very intelligent from the human standpoint, but alert and keen to detect the presence of food by every sense at its command. The problem is discussed further herein under the black vulture.
Voice—For the most part, the vulture is a silent bird. Dr. Pearson (1919) says: “Over the coveted carcass they flop and hiss and even fight in a bloodless sort of way. Aside from this hissing and an occasional low grunt, the birds appear to be voiceless.” The grunt he speaks of is a raucous growl or snarl, suggesting a note of some of the larger herons.
Field marks —The turkey buzzard and the black vulture, large, dark-colored birds with a soaring flight, resemble each other some- what in the air. The buzzard, however, is dingy brown; its tail is rounded at the tip and, carried nearly closed, projects beyond
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the wings in flight, whereas the vulture is black with a square-tipped tail, which fits snugly between the wings. The posterior. half of the buzzard’s wing, seen from below, is gray, the color extending to the end of the wing. The vulture’s wing is black with a gray tip, and the bird flaps its wings much more frequently than the buzzard does. At close range the buzzard’s head and neck are seen to be dull red. These parts in the vulture are black.
Coues (1874) brings out the difference in the shape of the wings when he says of the buzzard that “the fore-border of the wing is bent at a salient angle, and there is a corresponding reéntrance in its hind outline”, and of the vulture that “the front edge of the wing is almost straight, and the back border sweeps around in a regular curve to meet it at an obtuse point, where the ends of the quills are neither spread apart nor bent upward.”
The bald eagle, a much larger, sturdier bird than the buzzard, is at once distinguished by its more conspicuous head, proportionally longer secondaries, and powerful, driving wingbeats.
The California condor, compared to the buzzard, is a giant.
Enemies—W. KE. D. Scott (1892) reports that in Jamaica the vulture is “said to have decreased greatly in numbers in the past few years, being preyed upon, like all other ground, and many low tree builders, by the mongoose.”
The nestlings are subject to attack from predatory animals, but the adults have few enemies.
It was feared at one time that the vulture should be held respon- sible for the spreading of hog cholera, but the bird has been cleared recently of the suspicion. Howell (1932), quoting from the 26th Annual Report of the State Board of Health of Florida, 1914, says that “the virus of hog cholera is digested in the intestinal tract of buzzards and the droppings of buzzards fed on the flesh of hogs dead from cholera do not produce cholera when mixed in the feed of hogs.”
Game.—The turkey vulture plays a negligible role as a game bird. although G. B. Benners (1887) reports that in Texas the Negroes eat the young birds.
Frank L. Burns (1906) recounts that when a number of birds, among which was a vulture, were presented to an Italian workman, “the vulture, being the largest, was naturally considered the prize, so it was cleaned, and stuffed with plenty of garlic, and the entire household proceeded to make a meal of it; with the result that all were made deathly sick.”
Winter.—Winter, with its frost and snow, drives the bird from the northern part of its summer range, for, as Thomas H. Jackson (1903) says, “to obtain food here [Pennsylvania] in zero weather, with deep snow covering everything, would seem for them an impossibility.”
TURKEY VULTURE 25 DISTRIBUTION
Range.—The Western Hemisphere from Patagonia north to south- ern Canada.
Breeding range.—The turkey vulture breeds north to northwestern Washington (Bellingham Bay) ; southern British Columbia (Okana- gan); central Alberta (Lake Astotin); Saskatchewan ( Muscow and Indian Head); Manitoba (Duck Mountain); Minnesota (Elk River and Lanesboro); southern Michigan (Three Rivers and Ann Arbor) ; southern Ontario (probably Harrow, Kerrwood, and Cold- stream); and New York (near Canandaigua Lake and Westchester County). East to New York (Westchester County); New Jersey (Spring Lake and Newfield) ; Maryland (Easton and Cambridge) ; Virginia (Hog Island and Hampton); North Carolina (Fort Macon); South Carolina (Summerville and Sea Islands); Georgia (Savannah and Blackbeard Island) ; Florida (Gainesville, Micanopy, Seven Oaks, Passage Key, and Miami); Bahama Islands (Abaco, Little Abaco, and Andros Island) ; Puerto Rico (Guanica) ; Guiana (Georgetown and Cayenne); Brazil (Para, Parahyba, Goyanna, Rio de Janeiro, and Santa Catharina); Uruguay (probably Montevideo and probably Santa Elena) ; Argentina (Rio Negro) ; and the Falk- land Islands. South to the Falkland Islands and southern Chile (Straits of Magellan and Tierra del Fuego). West to Chile (Tierra del Fuego, Chiloe Island, probably near Santiago, Corral, Temuco, Copiapo, and Iquique) ; Peru (Arequipa, Talara, and Callao) ; Ecua- dor (Jambeli Island, Las Pinas, Babahoyo, Gualaquiza, and La Plata) ; Colombia (Santa Elena and Ocana) ; Costa Rica (La Palma, San Jose, and Miravalles) ; Nicaragua (San Juan del Sur); Guate- mala (Duenas) ; Oaxaca (Tehuantepec) ; Colima (Colima) ; Nayarit (Tres Marias Island); Lower California (San Jose del Cabo, Vic- toria Mountains, Santa Margarita Island, Magdalena Bay, Cerros Island, and San Martin Island); California (San Diego, Escondido, Fullerton, Whittier, Big Creek, Mount Hamilton, San Francisco, and probably Eureka) ; Oregon (Newport and Portland) ; and Washing- ton (Camas, Kalama, Steilacoom, Tacoma, Everett, and Bellingham Bay).
The range as outlined is for the entire species, which has been separated into several subspecies. The North American form, (@. a. septentrionalis, extends south only to northern Mexico and Lower California.
Winter range.—During mild winters some turkey vultures may be found over a large part of the breeding range. Mostly, however, they retire southward. The following appears to represent the northern limits of their normal range at this season: California
83561—37-——3
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(Marin County, Vaca Valley, Gridley, and Chico) ; southern Arizona (Fort Whipple, Salt River Bird Reservation, Catalina Mountains, and 'Tombstone) ; rarely southern New Mexico (Fort Fillmore, Fort Thorn, Rio Grande Bird Reservation, Cooney, and Carlsbad) ; rarely Kansas (Manhattan, Winfield, and Ellis); rarely Missouri (Jones- burg, Cardwell, and Warrensburg); southern Illinois (Anna and Mount Carmel); Indiana (Bicknell, Worthington, Greenville, and Bloomington) ; Ohio (Sidney, Wooster, and Hillsboro); Pennsyl- vania (Parkesburg, Carlisle, Lenape, Lititz, Concordville, and Dar- ling); and New Jersey (Princeton, Moorestown, and Trenton).
Migration.—In parts of the country, particularly the Atlantic and Pacific coastal regions, the migrations of the turkey vulture are frequently unnoticed, as in large areas the species is present in more or less numbers throughout the year. The southward movement in autumn is usually more conspicuous, and in the vicinity of Washing- ton, D. C., flocks of 30 or more may be regularly seen in October and November as they circle steadily toward the south.
Spring migration—Karly dates on which the turkey vulture has been observed to arrive in spring are: New Jersey—Vineland, Feb- ruary 2; Camden, February 8; New Providence, February 15; Hack- ettstown, February 22; Morristown, March 2; and Princeton, March 6. Pennsylvania—Berwyn, February 2; Jeffersonville, February 12; and Lionville, February 22. Ohio—Columbus, February 1; Hills- boro, February 11; New Richmond, February 21; New Paris, Feb- ruary 22; and Circleville, March 1. Michigan—Three Rivers, February 17; Ann Arbor, March 20; Brant, March 22; Petersburg, March 25; and Sault Ste. Marie, April 5. Ontario—Harrow, April J1; Point Pelee, April 23; and London, April 26. Indiana—Bick- nell, February 2; Bloomington, February 6; Brookville, February 9; and Rushville, February 10. Illinois—Carlinville, February 3; Odin, February 8; Martinsville, February 15; Hillsboro, February 20; and Rantoul, March 7. Wisconsin—St. Croix Falls, March 29; Klroy, March 31; Jefferson, April 4; and Viroqua, April 6. Iowa— Keokuk, February 7; Iowa City, February 28; La Porte City, March 7; and Hillsboro, March 9. Minnesota—Fosston, March 22; Wilder, March 25; Dassel, March 27; White Earth, April 1; and Minneapo- lis, April 8. Nebraska—Omega, February 12; Belvidere, March 7; and Falls City, March 381. South Dakota—Custer, March 27; Springfield, April 4; and Huron, April 9. North Dakota—Lari- more, April 4; and Tepee Buttes, April 10. Manitoba—Treesbank, March 30; Margaret, April 9; and Aweme, April 10. Saskatche- wan—Eastend, March 29; Indian Head, April 28; and Qu’Appelle, May 4. Colorado—Mesa County, March 18; Pueblo, March 28; Lay, April 9; Loveland, April 10; and Grand Junction, April 20. Wvyo- ming—Fort Sanders, May 13. Idaho—Rathdrum, March 13; Me-
TURKEY VULTURE V7.
ridian, March 23, and Grangeville, April 5. Montana—Corvallis, March 4; Billings, April 4; and Terry, April 10. Alberta—Mun- dare, April 24. Nevada—Carson City, April 2; and Nixon, April 10. Oregon—Mercer, March 4; Monmouth, March 7; Rickreall, March 10; Klamath Lake, March 19; and Corvallis, March 21. Washington—Camas, March 14; Seattle, March 25; and Ta- coma, March 29. British Columbia—Courtenay, March 24 (once on February 24, 1920) ; Chilliwack, April 4; Okanagan Landing, April 10; and Osoyoos Lake, April 11.
Fall migration—Late dates of departure in the autumn are: British Columbia—Okanagan Landing, September 28. Oregon— Newport, September 28; Klamath Lake, October 4; and Camp Harney, November 27. Alberta—Red Deer River, September 22; and Islay, October 3. Montana—Anaconda, November 1; and Ra- valli County, November 29. Idaho—City of Rocks, October 3. Wy- oming—Sundance, October 19. Colorado—Yuma, September 14; Littleton, September 20; Mesa County, September 27; and Lyons, October 2. Manitoba—Margaret, September 20; Treesbank, October 13; and Aweme, November 2. North Dakota—Harrisburg, Septem- ber 38. South Dakota—Douglas County, September 8; Harrison, September 17; and Forestburg, November 6. Nebraska—Lincoln, October 7; Arago, October 10; and Badger, October 24. Minne- sota—St. Vincent, September 27; Lake Andrews, October 8; and Minneapolis, October 12. Wisconsin—Lake Koshkonong, November 2. Lowa—Keokuk, October 29; Sioux City, November 7; and Grin- nell, November 23. Ontario—Point Pelee, October 26. Michigan— Ann Arbor, October 18; Hillsdale, October 23; Manchester, October 26; and Schoolcraft, November 13. Ohio—Campbellstown, Novem- ber 10; Bowling Green, November 12; Scio, November 24; and Columbus, November 27. Indiana—Greensburg, November 12; Bicknell, November 25; Lyons, November 27; and Richmond, Decem- ber 4. Iilimois—Johnsonville, November 13; Odin, November 23; Port Byron, November 27; and Rantoul, November 31. Pennsyl- vania—Doylestown, November 4; Columbia, November 4; Jefferson- ville, November 24; and Berwyn, December 1. New Jersey—New Brunswick, November 3; Princeton, November 12; Morristown, No- vember 12; and Hackettstown, November 14.
Casual records—The turkey vulture has a penchant for extensive wandering and so has been frequently recorded outside (usually north) of its normal summer and winter ranges. There are many records for the New England States (cf. Forbush, 1927). Among others the following may be cited as examples: One seen near Hatley, Quebec, July 31, 1917; New Brunswick, several records, one of which is for a bird taken about January 10, 1884, at Nequac, Miramichi Bay; one was killed at Renews, Newfoundland, in 1905; one was re-
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corded from Calhoun County, Mich., on December 22, 1929; in Ontario one was taken at Moose Factory in June 1898, one was seen at Ojibway, May 15, 1925, one was taken at Scarborough, No- vember 17, 1908, and another was taken at Warsaw in the summer of 1895; one was killed at Dawson Bay, Manitoba, on September 15, 1913; a specimen was obtained at Camrose, Alberta, in January 1911; one was recorded from Comox, Vancouver Island, British Columbia, February 24, 1920; and one was killed in Bermuda in 1853.
Egq dates—Colorado, Oregon, and British Columbia to Sas- katchewan: 115 records, March 14 to June 25; 57 records, April 4 to 238.
Ohio, Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas: 24 records, April 16 to June 13; 12 records, April 26 to May 19.
New York to Georgia: 118 records, April 3 to June 2; 59 records, April 15 to May 5.
Oklahoma and Texas to Florida: 59 records, February 25 to June 3; 29 records, March 31 to May 1.
CORAGYPS ATRATUS ATRATUS (Bechstein) - BLACK VULTURE
HABITS
CONTRIBUTED BY CHARLES WENDELL TOWNSEND
If one could forget the unsavory feeding habits of the black vulture and remember only the pleasing attributes of its flight, one would place this bird among the most distinguished and interesting of avian friends. As a feature of the landscape in its flight and soarings on high—and after all this is the feature most evident— the black vulture appeals to our aesthetic feelings, while the mental effort needed in distinguishing it from the turkey vulture and from larger hawks and eagles adds greatly to its interest. It is a bird well worth seeing and watching.
Spring.—As the black vulture is a resident throughout its breed- ing range except in the extreme northern parts, a marked spring migration does not occur. It seems to be fond of the neighborhood of the sea and generally outnumbers the turkey vulture in these regions, while it is outnumbered by the latter farther inland. As a straggler or wanderer it has been recorded as far north as Quebec and New Brunswick, while its breeding range extends north only as far as Maryland and Virginia.
Courtship—Aretas A. Saunders (1906) thus describes the court- ship of this vulture, which “took place on the ground in the shade of a small lime tree”: “In a circle in front of the female were three
BLACK VULTURE 29
admirers, who, with their wings partly spread, were rapidly duck- ing their heads to her like well-trained servants. She paid little attention, and soon turned her back on them. They persisted in their attentions till she finally got disgusted and flew away, with her suitors in close pursuit.”
Audubon (1840) gives a more graphic account as follows:
At the commencement of the love season, which is about the beginning of February, the gesticulations and parade of the males are extremely ludicrous. They first strut somewhat in the manner of the Turkey Cock, then open their wings, and, as they approach the female, lower their head, its wrinkled skin becoming loosened, so as entirely to cover the bill, and emit a puffing sound, which is by no means musical. When these actions have been repeated five or six times, and the conjugal compact sealed, the “happy pair” fly off and remain together until their young come abroad.
Simmons (1925) describes the courtship of the black vulture as observed in Texas:
During February and to the middle of March, the love-flight or courtship flight of the two birds may often be seen at the breeding grounds, lasting from two to ten minutes, in rapid, prolonged, wide-spreading circles. In the air over a thickly-populated nesting area, such aS a honey-combed cliff or canyon wall in the hills, as many as 25 or 50 pairs may be seen going through these nuptial ceremonies during early March, presenting a slowly-moving, gyrating maelstrom, circling and sailing in close spirals, one of a pair con- tinually following the other; out of this maelstrom a female occasionally drops, the male a few feet behind, and then a chase ensues, dropping, darting, wheeling with incredible speed, wing tips of one touching the wing tips of the other in the twists and turns of the play. A male performing before a female perched high on a dead tree overlooking the chasm often circles high in front of her, half folds his wings and dives straight for the earth, his wings shrilling and whistling until he zooms upward again to resume his circling.
C. J. Pennock writes: “What I take for a mating-time flight I have noted frequently in February and early March [in Wakulla County, Fla.], namely two birds in rapid flight in close company through the tree tops and open country, sometimes lasting three to five minutes.”
Wayne (1910) says of South Carolina: “The birds mate in Febru- ary, and when engaged in this pleasure utter a hissing sound which can be heard at a distance of several hundred yards.”
S. A. Grimes sends us the following account:
I was returning home from a short trip to Baldwin Bay and noticed two vultures in a tall dead cypress in a swamp about 300 yards off the highway.
This aroused my curiosity, and I turned into a road that put me within 100 yards of the birds. Without getting out of the car, I focused my glasses on the birds and presently saw one hop over to the branch on which the other was perched. This bird, which was undoubtedly the male, alighted with his
wings outstretched above his back and, holding them in this position, sidled up so close to the other that she was forced to back away on the limb. Losing
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her balance, she flopped to another branch and was followed by the male, who continued to hold his wings above his back in such a manner that the tips almost touched. The two birds “necked” a little, and the female pecked feebly at her mate’s head and breast when he pressed her too hard out on the branch.
This performance was repeated four times, and each time I looked for copulation to take place, but the female was not agreeable. The male finally folded his wings and perched quietly beside his mate. They remained thus for about 15 minutes, each occasionally pecking gently at the other; and once I noticed that they grasped each other’s bill, as doves are wont to do. I could plainly see, too, that the birds parted their mandibles repeatedly, as if making some sound, but none was audible at my distance. The birds suddenly sprang into the air and flapped away, after I had watched them 25 minutes. This was on January 31.
Nesting.—The heading of this section is in a literal sense incorrect, for no nest is made by the black vulture, and the eggs are laid without this preparation. As bits of stick and weed stalks as well as dead leaves strew the ground in many places, the eggs may be deposited on these, but only incidentally, for these are not collected to form even the semblance of a nest, and there is no hollowing out of the ground as a receptacle for the eggs. Wayne (1910) called attention to an aesthetic habit of the bird that may have been peculiar to his region in South Carolina and that does not appear to have been noticed by other observers. He says: “It is a peculiar habit of this bird, which I have found to be almost constant, to have pearl, bone, and china buttons, as well as pieces of glass and figured china, around and under the eggs.”
As there is no nest to hold the eggs, these cannot be placed on branches of trees but must necessarily rest on the firm foundation of the ground or at the bottom of hollow stumps, sometimes as much as 8 feet above the level of the ground.
Hollow stumps, access to which is only from the top, are commonly chosen for nesting by the black vulture. In some instances there may be an opening at the ground by which the bird may enter and leave. When the stump is 6 or 8 feet high and the nest is at ground level, the entrance and exit of the bird from this chimneylike structure must require the use of both the wings and feet, when the bird scrambles up and out. I was told by an ornithologist that once when a boy he climbed down for the eggs into one of these nesting sites, and was unable to get out until a companion came to his rescue. Edward J. Court (1924) reports a nesting “in a large white oak stump in a cavity about two feet below the level of the ground.”
C. J. Pennock describes the nesting two years in succession of a black vulture “in a large decayed hollow tree, the entrance five feet above ground * * * the eggs being placed on a level with the outside ground * * *, Inevery instance when the nest was visited,
BLACK VULTURE ol
the brooding bird became alarmed at our approach, and we could hear her flapping to scramble up and escape at the elevated entrance.”
J. J. Carroll, of Houston, Tex., says ina letter that he has seen many nestings in standing trees hollow at the base; “sometimes the eggs were at a level not far below the entrance, but I have known the eggs to be placed on the ground in the hollow, with the entrance six or eight feet up. Usually these entrance holes are not higher than that from the ground, but I have seen them as high as fifteen feet.” A hollow in a standing tree sufficiently large even if at a considerable height above the ground might be used by this bird, and I was able to find one such record. Charles R. Stockard (1904) found the eggs of the black vulture “about sixty feet up in a huge poplar tree which stood in a cotton field that had been cleared for five years. In the crotch of this tree there was a large hollow running down about three feet and slightly sheltered above by the inclination of one of the limbs that formed the crotch. The eggs were deposited on the floor of this hollow. This was the only nest of this species that was observed more than a few feet from the ground. It is probable that the birds occupied this tree while it stood in the woods and when the land was cleared in 1897 the tree, being a large one, was deadened and left standing and the birds continued to use it as a nesting site.” This is, of course, a very exceptional case. A still more unusual site is recorded by O. E. Baynard (1910), who in Florida found a black vulture incubating its eggs in a Ward’s heron’s nest in a cypress tree some 90 feet above the ground. As he collected the eggs, there is no doubt about the identity.
Where hollow stumps and standing trees occur, they seem to be fav- orite nesting sites for this bird, but elsewhere the eggs are laid on the ground, often in dense thickets of palmetto, yucca, tall sawgrass, or small trees, although sometimes exposed to the full light of day in the open. The shade of a partly fallen tree trunk is another favorite site, as well as the shade of a rock or under boulders, and, especially in limestone country where caves abound, the eggs are often laid in a shallow cave on a cliff side.
In its nesting habits the black vulture is often gregarious, as shown in the following description by Walter Hoxie (1886) of the nesting on Buzzard Island, 3 miles from Beaufort, S. C., where a dozen or more pairs nested yearly:
There is never the slightest attempt at forming a nest, or even excayating a hollow. The eggs are laid far in under the intertwining stems of the yucca, and in the semi-shadows are quite hard to be seen. The parent birds, however, have a habit of always following the same path in leaving and approaching their precious charge, and after a little experience I learned to distinguish these
traces so well that I seldom failed to follow them up and secure the coveted specimens. This track is seldom, if ever, straight. It winds under and around
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the armed stems, and, the difference in bulk between a man and a Buzzard being considerable, the pointed leaves find a good many of a fellow’s weak points before he reaches his prize * * *.
Quite rarely I have found eggs on the other parts of the island, and once or twice in completely exposed situations, with not even an attempt to get under the protection of an overhanging bush. Possibly these belonged to young birds which had still much to learn in regard to ways of housekeeping.
Charles R. Stockard (1904) says: “The black vulture was found depositing her eggs in more widely different situations than any other bird observed. The favorite site was a large hollow log, or a tree having a huge hollow base with an opening only a few feet up, so that the female might be able to jump out of the nest.” He notes the following nestings of this bird: “One pair for three sea- sons nested in a large hollow sycamore log that lay across a small stream and served as a ‘foot log’ for a little-used path in a swampy wood. At least. three people a day must have walked over the log as the vulture sat calmly on her eggs.” In another case “a set of two eggs was found lying on the bare ground under a large tree that had been uprooted and had fallen so that its trunk made an angle of about fifteen degrees to the earth. The eggs were placed below this trunk, which was four and a half feet above them, and thus slanting sun rays could have fallen upon the spot but for the heavy foliage of the wood.” Two sets of eggs were found on the ground in a dense cane thicket. Another set was found in a cave in a steep clay bank bordering a creek. The entrance of the cave was 7 feet wide, it was 214 feet high, and ran back 6 feet. The eggs lay in the back of the cave.
James A. Lyon, Jr. (1893), writing of the limestone bluffs on the Cumberland River in Tennessee says: “The most of these bluffs have ‘caves’ or holes running back into them only two or three feet deep, others deeper. It is in these ‘caves’ that the black vulture usually deposits its eggs, though sometimes they are found under an over- hanging ledge of rock. As a general rule they do not go far into the bluff, but lay near the entrance to the hole.”
Eggs.—[AvutuHor’s nore: The black vulture lays normally two eggs, occasionally only one and very rarely three. They vary in shape from ovate to elliptical-ovate or elongate-ovate, very rarely fusiform. The shell is smooth but not glossy. They can usually be distinguished from turkey-vulture eggs by being somewhat larger, having a peculiar ground color, and being much less heavily marked. The usual ground color is pale gray-green, sometimes pale bluish white or dull white and rarely creamy white. There are usually a few large blotches or spots, mostly near the large end or in a ring around it; some eggs are more evenly spotted and some are nearly immaculate. The markings are mostly in dark browns,
BLACK VULTURE 33
“chestnut”, “liver brown”, or “chocolate”, but sometimes in lighter browns, “russet” or “tawny”, with occasionally a few “Quaker drab” spots. One very pretty egg is heavily blotched with “pale purple drab”, with a few spots of “bay”; another is heavily blotched and finely spotted with “burnt sienna”; but such eggs are exceptional. The measurements of 51 eggs average 75.6 by 50.9 millimeters; the eges showing the four extremes measure 90.5 by 55.9, 75 by 56, 66.5 by 51, and 67.3 by 47 millimeters. ]
Young.—The incubation period is variously stated to be anywhere from 28 to 39 days; and both parents assist in the incubation. Bay- nard (1909) watching 21 nests found the incubation was usually 28 to 29 days, in one case 30 days. Edward S. Thomas (1928) reports it as about 89 days in one case. The young, helpless at first, may stray a little from the nest on the ground at a comparatively early age, but, according to Baynard (1913), they are about 14 weeks old before they are able to fly. Simmons (1925) quotes H. J. Kofahl’s statement that the young remain at the nesting site for about 60 days. Howard Lacey (1911) says “the young feign death when disturbed.”
The Rev. James J. Murray, of Lexington, Va., gives the following interesting account of an experience with young birds on the summit of House Mountain in Virginia, an elevation of about 3,000 feet:
The nest cavity was under a pile of huge boulders. The cave had an open- ing above large enough for a man to crawl into, and tunnels from two sides at the ground level * * *. One of the parent birds flew out of the upper opening aS we approached. There were two young birds, one somewhat larger than the other. They appeared to be three or four weeks old and to weigh about three pounds. They had no feathers and were covered with a thick down of cream buff color, almost reddish above. As we went into the hole they began to vomit large pieces of meat, almost choking in the effort, and continued to do so at intervals as long as we were there. They constantly made a loud blowing noise through slightly opened mouths. It was not a hiss but more like the noise of a bellows. At every effort to get them out into the open they scrambled back into the darkness, jamming themselves under the overhanging rocks and burying their heads in the cracks. When we finally pulled them out to the end of the tunnel in a vain effort to get a good picture in the dim light, they fought each other fiercely and pecked at our hands.
Edward 8. Thomas (1928) describes the feeding of the young as follows:
The adult bird lowers its bill to the young, which immediately inserts its beak between the opened mandibles of the adult. The adult, with or without a perceptible gulping movement, regurgitates the food, which is eaten by the young with a nibbling movement of its mandibles. We were certain that at times the adult extruded broth-like drops of liquid which the young secured from the scarcely opened mandibles of the old bird. At other times the young birds obtained the food from the middle part of the adult’s beak, but the
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preferred source of supply, without question, was far up in the corner of the old one’s mouth, where the young birds thrust their bills whenever they were
able to do so. The adults fed either from a standing position, or while brooding the young.
The day was cold and the old birds brooded almost continually. The young were fed repeatedly. Between the hours of 6:03 a. m. and 5:48 p. m., there were 17 distinct feeding periods, some of which continued over an interval of seven minutes or more.
The young were very matter-of-fact about taking their food, and at no time showed the eagerness which characterizes the young of most birds. This perhaps may be accounted for by the fact that the young were kept gorged with food continually, the distended stomachs being plainly visible from the blind. On this occasion, the young apparently were fed liquid food only, the liquid being described by Geist as having a milky appearance. On several occasions, solid food, having the appearance of flesh or connective tissue, was regurgitated, which the young attempted to seize, but on each occasion the parent re-swallowed the material.
Plumages.—| AvuTHor’s Nore: The young black vulture is warmly covered, except on the head, with long, thick, heavy down of a rich buffy color. Mr. Thomas (1928) says:
At 17 days the pin-feathers of the wing begin to show. At 89 days, the young were almost full-grown, but the wing quills were only five inches in length, and the tail feathers of the larger of the two birds, two inches. At this age, there were no other feathers. On June 12, when the young were about 52 days old, the scapulars, tertials and practically all of the wing coverts were feathered, and quills were appearing on the breast. A week later, the upper parts were practically covered, although there was still a great deal of down showing, but while feathers were appearing on the breast and underparts, they were concealed by the down. On June 26, at 66 days, one of the young was able to fly up to the top of the box blind. By July 4, they had left the cave, having a period of from 67 to 74 days in the nest.
Immature birds during their first year are much like adults, but the plumage is duller black and less glossy, and the naked skin of the neck and head is partially concealed by a scanty growth of short, black, hairy down. I have been unable to trace subsequent molts. | .
Food.—The principal food of the black vulture gives it its common name of carrion crow, for carrion is the chief article of its diet. This food is to be found in the sewers and dump heaps and about butchers’ shops in southern cities, as well as in the fields and forests where animals have come to untimely ends. The methods used in searching for and disposing of this food will be described farther onunder “Behavior.” As scavengers, especially in cities where these functions are not attended to by man, the black vulture is considered a valuable servant. Black vultures will also eat fresh meat, and butchers must watch their stalls carefully when these birds are about.
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J. D. Figgins (1923) found that black vultures in the neighbor- hood of Bird Island, La., were very destructive in some of the heron rookeries and stated that “it is a frequent occurrence to ob- serve a vulture with a struggling young heron dangling from its beak * * *,. In regions where cattle raising has replaced the cultivation of rice, the Black Vulture is credited with considerable damage to the herds by tearing the eyes from calves at the time of birth and instances are cited of a like treatment accorded cows while in a weakened condition. I personally saw one of these tear the tail from a small pig, and was informed that the practice was of too common occurrence to excite comment.” O. EK. Baynard (1909) reported that these birds were very destructive to young pigs and lambs in Florida, and he has known them to take young chickens. Young herons are frequently devoured. Audubon (1840) says of his experience with the bird in Florida: “I observed them many times devouring young cormorants and herons in the nest.”
The United States Biological Survey recommends local control where “through their predatory habits and concentrated numbers, both turkey buzzards and black vultures have become a menace to new-born pigs, calves, lambs, and kids” (Redington, 1932).
Although it is common knowledge that black vultures eagerly de- vour fresh meat at butchers’ stalls, C. J. Maynard (1896) says of this vulture that they “are more emphatically carrion feeders than the latter described species [turkey vulture] and will seldom eat fresh meat but prefer to wait until decomposition has set in before beginning their feast. Thus I have frequently seen the Turkey Buzzards gather around the freshly skinned carcass of an alligator, and eagerly devour the flesh, while the Black-heads would wait until it had lain for a day or two in the broiling sun before they would attack it; then, when the odor from the decaying mass became insufferable to human nostrils, they would eat to re- pletion. * * * They not only eat decomposed meat but feed upon animal excrement and various kinds of offal.”
Behavior.—When a carcass of an animal is discovered, black vul- tures gather at the feast, which in many cases they must share and fight for, not only among themselves, but with turkey vultures and sometimes with eagles and dogs. Alexander Wilson’s (1832) classic description of one of these feasts on a dead horse near Charleston, S. C., is well worth quoting:
The ground, for a hundred yards around it, was black with carrion crows; many sat on the tops of sheds, fences, and houses within sight; sixty or eighty on the opposite side of a small run. I counted at one time two hundred and thirty-seven, but I believe there were more, besides several in the air over my
head, and at a distance. I ventured cautiously within thirty yards of the carcass, where three or four ‘dogs and twenty or thirty vultures, were busy
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tearing and devouring. Seeing them take no notice, I ventured nearer, till I was within ten yards, and sat down on the bank. Still they paid little atten- tion to me. The dogs being sometimes accidentally flapped with the wings of the vultures, would growl and snap at them, which would occasion them to spring up for a moment, but they immediately gathered in again. I remarked the vultures frequently attack each other, fighting with their claws or heels, striking like a cock, with open wings, and fixing their claws in each other’s head. The females, and, I believe, the males likewise, made a hissing sound, with open mouth, exactly resembling that produced by thrusting a red hot poker into water; and frequently a snuffling, like a dog clearing his nostrils, as I suppose they were theirs. On observing that they did not heed me, I stole so Close that my feet were within one yard of the horse’s legs, and again sat down. ‘They all slid aloof a few feet; but, seeing me quiet, they soon re- turned as before. As they were often disturbed by the dogs, I ordered the latter home: my voice gave no alarm to the vultures. As soon as the dogs de- parted, the vultures crowded in such numbers, that I counted at one time thirty-seven on and around the carcass, with several within; so that scarcely an inch of it was visible. Sometimes one would come out with a large piece of the entrails, which in a moment was surrounded by several others, who tore it in fragments, and it soon disappeared. They kept up the hissing occasionally. Some of them having their whole legs and head covered with blood, presented a most savage aspect. Still as the dogs advanced, I would order them away, which seemed to gratify the vultures; and one would pursue another to within a foot or two of the spot where I was sitting. Sometimes I observed them stretching their necks along the ground, as if to press the food downwards.
The black vultures are often obliged to share their feasts with turkey vultures, and, according to Golsan and Holt (1914), they al- ways get the better of the latter in a quarrel. On the other hand, according to Audubon (1840), “should eagles make their appearance at such a juncture, the Carrion Crows retire, and patiently wait until their betters are satisfied, but: they pay little regard to the dogs.” In tearing off choice morsels from the carcass with their bills the vultures brace their feet firmly on the ground and flap violently with their wings to aid them in pulling away.
Their movements on the ground are not graceful. Aretas A. Saunders (1906) graphically describes them as follows: “When the vulture is taking his time about getting around, he moves with a very solemn, sedate walk, carefully placing one foot in front of the cther. When he is in a hurry, however, he slightly spreads his wings and indulges in what looks like hopping but is really a very one-sided run. At first sight he seems to put both feet on the ground at once, but in reality he puts down the left foot first and takes his long step with the right foot.”
In the air, on the other hand, the black vulture is much more at his ease, but he is far inferior in flight to the turkey vulture, owing to his shorter wings and tail and to his greater weight. While the turkey vulture sails in majestic circles on motionless wings, borne up by the air currents, the black vulture on the same up-currents is
BLACK VULTURE 37
obliged to flap his wings from time to time. If the up-currents are strong, his need for flapping is reduced, but he never equals the grace of the turkey vulture. I once compared the flight of the two birds on a calm warm day in Georgia, as they were soaring over a sparse pine forest. They were both about 60 yards above my head as I reclined on the ground and about 40 yards over the forest. The turkey vulture soared in small circles, neither rising nor falling and without once flapping its wings, which with the tail were merely adjusted from time to time to the air currents. The black vulture, on the other hand, flapped its wings quickly at frequent intervals. The contrast was very marked. After a while they both sailed off. Whether they were inspecting me as possible carrion I do not know. On another occasion, when lying outstretched on a sandy Florida beach, I was startled by the shadow of a vulture passing over me and at once sat up. I have been told that this is a habit of vultures to determine whether a body is alive or dead. That they fly near for this purpose is not improbable but one cannot believe that they are able to plan to have their shadow fall on the body.
When a black vulture flying and circling at a great height becomes aware of a carcass lying far below it, the bird at first circles down but soon drops with great swiftness, with legs hanging and, at times, wings flapping furiously. Such actions of descent from a height immediately attract the attention of other vultures on the ground or roosting in trees and they at once follow up the clue. One such action, even a mistaken one, can quickly collect a flock of vultures.
The question that has been much discussed then arises, as to how these birds find the carrion. It is evident that sight is of great importance, and the way in which vultures turn their heads in flight suggests that they are all the time on the lookout for their food. As carrion is so evident to our own sense of smell, even from a great distance, it is natural for us to suppose that these birds also are guided by the sense of smell, especially when trees or bushes partly conceal the carrion. In fact, this belief in the use of the smelling powers has always been a popular one, but since the experi- ments of Audubon and Bachman (1835) it has generally been accepted that sight alone guides the birds to their food. These experiments, made chiefly on the black vulture, are summarized briefly as follows:
(1) A carcass securely hid in a brier and cane brake was not detected by the birds, although the odor was very marked and attracted dogs.
(2) Carrion on ground covered by a frame of brushwood 12 inches above it was not detected by vultures who passed over it during the 25 days of the experiment.
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(3) Fresh meat, placed on canvas covering carrion, was devoured by vultures standing on the canvas, but they did not detect the carrion,
(4) A blinded black vulture did not notice carrion placed within an inch of its nostrils.
A few observers since Audubon occasionally have tested the sense of smell in black vultures, but their findings are generally not con- clusive, are not free from the possibility of error, and are often con- tradictory. Thus, C. J. Pennock writes to me that in Florida he placed “the offal from a large green turtle on the ground 15 or 20 yards within a grove of closely growing pine trees, averaging perhaps 50 feet in height and with tops thickly interlocked but with no side limbs for 30 feet up. At 8:15 a. m. the meal was ready; at 9 o’clock a single black vulture was atop the fence nearby; at 9:40 there were 40 birds, all black vultures sitting on the ground, perched in trees or regaling themselves. No vultures were in sight when the table was spread, and it was thought the repast could not be seen by a flying bird at the nearest open side of the grove, but of this there is a possible doubt.”
Dr. Frank M. Chapman (1929) at Barro Colorado Island has made the latest and most careful experiments. Most of them were on the turkey buzzard, and he says that “some of my results leave no room for doubt that the turkey buzzard has a highly developed sense of smell. From others, exactly the opposite conclusion may be drawn.” On one occasion two black vultures perched on a tree about 125 feet to leeward of a small house where carrion was concealed. These were the first black vultures he had seen alight on the island.
There is one source of error that so far as I know has not been considered in these experiments and may account for some of the contradictory results. This was brought out by Darlington (1930), who in collecting beetles by the use of carrion bait in tropical regions also attracted vultures, and was led to the following con- clusions:
Soon after the death of an animal, except in unusual cases or during cold weather, the body attracts numbers of flies and beetles, some of which may continue to circle about it for several hours or days. ‘The resulting congregation of insects is noisy and conspicuous, and of a sort which does not occur except about decaying material, so that it may be considered more or less characteristic of the latter. Since Vultures can undoubtedly see and per- haps hear such insect swarms at a distance, they have probably learned to recognize their significance, just as we recognize the significance of gatherings of the Cathartidae.
Aretas A. Saunders (1906) found that the lives of black vultures on a rubber plantation in Nicaragua followed a regular routine, in- fluenced only by hatching and the character of the weather. Early
BLACK VULTURE 39
in the morning they sat on, fence posts or walked about the planta- tion in search of bits of food. At noon in fine weather they circled high in the air, coming down toward evening for another walk. At sunset they flew one after another to fence posts, thence to the top of a large tree, where they waited until all were congregated. All at once they flew to another tree and thence to another, until they found one to suit their fancy. They seldom slept in the same tree two nights in succession, though they always commenced operations from the same tree. Saunders continues:
Butchering day, which occurs at irregular intervals, is the important day in the life of the Vulture. As soon as the men go down to the potrero to drive up the cattle, they know what is coming. They gather together on the fence- posts and shed-roofs, watching the movements of the men with an air of ex- pectancy. Sometimes they wait for three or four hours before the butchering is finished and the remains thrown out to them. Then there is an instantaneous scramble. Each Vulture takes hold with his beak and begins to pull and hiss and flap until the piece he holds breaks off, when it is swallowed as quickly as possible and a fresh hold taken. At this rate the whole feast is consumed in an hour or two, when the Vultures go back to the fence-posts and sit in silence for the remainder of the day.
Black vultures are very social in their habits and often resort to regular roosts. One such I visited at Buzzard Isle, Lake Iamonia, in northern Florida. ‘The roost was in big live oaks, mostly dead, and at about 11 o’clock in the morning contained some 200 black vultures and half a dozen turkey vultures. The birds did not leave when I walked beneath them on a ground devoid of vegetation and covered with their droppings and many bones. The odor was strong of a chicken yard, but not of carrion. Toward sunset I saw from a dis- tance a number of flocks of about 20 vultures each, sailing and flapping high up toward the roost. On another occasion on the Ver- milion River, La., I passed at sunset about a hundred of these black creatures sitting on the limbs of moss-draped cypresses, many more in a nearby field and six or eight on the roof of a deserted house. A short distance away several were perched on the floating body of a dead cow. It was a mournful sight.
Audubon (1840) describes a visit by John Bachman and himself to a roost of black vultures that attended to the offal of Charleston, S. C. This roost was in a swampy wood of about two acres, across the Ashley River, two miles from the city. ‘When nearly under the trees on which the birds were roosted, we found the ground destitute of vegetation, and covered with ordure and feathers, mixed with the broken branches of the trees. The stench was horrible. The trees were completely covered with birds, from the trunk to the very tips of the branches.” They estimated the number of vultures at several thousands.
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Simmons (1925) states: “Just before daybreak, when a reddish glow begins to show in the eastern sky, black vultures begin to leave their roosts in the mountainous country, passing over in a continuous long string by ones and twos, or as many as half a dozen at a time, moving eastward towards the slaughter pens or to spread out over the open country and begin their tireless vigil for carcasses.” ‘They return just after sunset.
B. J. Blincoe (1922) observed an unusual flight of these birds in March in Nelson County, Ky., where the black vulture is gen- erally scarce at this season. The flock of 92 individuals “presented a beautiful appearance as the birds soared in a spiral column, each bird taking, intermittently, a few short wing strokes. At times the whole flock in a long train coursed across country on set wings in an orderly manner suggesting the movement of a flock of water fowl, but not a bird moved a wing until they again maneuvered into a spiral column.” There was not a single turkey vulture among them.
J. J. Murray (1928), at Lexington, Va., found about 60 vultures at a slaughter pen, and at least 40 of them, he says, were black vul- tures. “As we disturbed them, they began walking in single file in a long procession up a steep hillside for 200 or 300 yards, and then near the top took flight.” In a letter he says: “This procession was not in order to reach a high place from which to take off, for many of them had jumped to the ground from the top of the slaughter house as the procession started.” To rise from the ground in calm weather it is sometimes necessary for the black vulture to hop or run along for 20 or 30 feet, beating its wings violently until it is able to take off.
In cold weather these vultures often sit around chimney pots and on chimneys to obtain some of the warmth. In wet weather they present a most dejected appearance, with wings drawn in close to the body and with back and tail in an almost vertical position. They have a habit of spreading their wings and tail to dry and air when the sun is shining. When alarmed or caught they eject the contents of their stomachs with great quickness and power.
In southern regions it is unnecessary to bury a dead animal to prevent long pollution of the air, as in the North; the farmer merely drags the carcass to a secluded spot and the vultures soon strip off and consume the flesh and entrails. Around butchers’ stalls and in cities where offal is thrown into the street, the birds are semidomesti- cated and walk around almost underfoot. Owing to these habits of the black vultures in consuming carrion and offal of all sorts, the danger of their spreading disease by pathogenic bacteria dropped directly from the vultures’ feet and plumage, or by their dejecta, has
BLACK VULTURE 41
been given serious consideration. If, for example, anthrax may be spread in this way from the carcass of a horse dead of that disease, it may be better economy to burn or bury the body than to leave it to the vultures.
Dr. Casey A. Wood (1922) relates an experience with black vul- tures in Georgetown, British Guiana, where until 1921 large num- bers of them frequented the city, especially in the region of the slaughterhouses, and were to be seen daily perched on the roofs of the houses. The prejudice among the inhabitants in their favor as scavengers was strong, but it was found that the birds polluted the drinking water, which was largely supplied by roof drainage. It was proved that serious pollution of the drinking water was brought about by the birds’ habit of bringing filth to the roofs and also by the pathogenic bacteria in their feces. Analysis of the cistern water of houses protected by wires stretched above the ridge pole to pre- vent roosting showed it to be free from pathogenic bacteria, while cisterns filled from unprotected roofs, especially those known to be patronized by black vultures, were often shown to be infected by morbific germs. Since 1921 the black vultures have been nearly banished from the city by shooting and systematic frightening away.
Herbert W. Brandt communicates the following about the turkey and black vultures in Kleberg County, Tex., where both are abundant: “It is claimed by Mr. Kleberg that they spread the deadly anthrax to the cattle, and also other cow diseases. He trapped 3,500 buzzards on the Laureles Ranch alone during the winter of 1918-19. The trap is simply a wire-enclosed yard with some loud- smelling carcasses of cows, hogs, etc., as bait and an entrance that closes behind the bird and keeps it in. A Mexican then enters the trap with a club and kills the birds and burns the bodies.”
In a publication of the Biological Survey (Redington, 1932), it is stated that “the Biological Survey has discouraged the general destruction of turkey buzzards and black vultures. These birds have been accused of being important carriers of livestock diseases, but skilled investigators have shown that the virus of charbon, or anthrax, is destroyed in passing through the digestive tract of the turkey buzzard. There also are on record similar data regarding the virus of hog cholera. Experimental work of the Bureau of Animal Industry has indicated that the transmission of hog cholera on the feet or feathers of birds is by no means so likely to occur as is generally supposed.”
Votce.—The black vulture is a very silent bird. Hissing, grunting, and blowing compose its entire vocabulary, and these sounds are rarely to be heard except when the birds are feeding or fighting. Aretas A. Saunders (1906) describes its voice as consisting of “a
83561—37——4
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hiss and low eguff, guff, guff, like a dog barking in the distance.” Pennock describes a cry as sounding like watt or waugh. The blowing sound resembles that made by bellows. Donald J. Nichol- son (1928b) says that the young hiss at an intruder and utter a blowing note very similar to that of a rattlesnake. Edward S. Thomas (1928) writes:
The birds were heard to give a variety of notes. Adults and young, when cornered or annoyed, give a rasping, hissing snarl, also described as a “snore”, and “half-way between a wheeze and a squeel.” The young give this fre- quently in the presence of the parents. The young also frequently make a sound which, when they were very young, was described as “Phuh!” or “Whuh!” Later this note became in the older birds, “Woof!” or “Wooft!’ This note apparently denotes suspicion, and may be the counterpart of a grunt- ing sound which the adults frequently emit. In addition, I heard the adult give a low, croaking “Coo,” very much like a one-syllabled coo of the domestic pigeon.
Field marks.—-When this bird is seen at close range, alighted on the ground or on a tree, it is unmistakable. Its black head and neck bare of feathers proclaim it to be a black vulture, although it must be remembered that the head of the immature turkey vulture is also dark and not red as in the adult. The other characteristics of the black vulture are best seen in flight. Here its short, nearly square- ended tail, as contrasted with the longer rounded tail of the turkey vulture, is evident. The feet may sometimes be seen against the tail as they reach nearly to the end and even project a little, but it is more difficult to see them in the turkey vulture. The wings seen from above and below both show a light-colored space at the outer end of the primaries, while in the turkey vulture all the primaries and secondaries are light colored, giving the effect of a light posterior border to the wings. While the wings of the turkey vulture are held up at an angle in soaring, those of the black species are as a rule more nearly horizontal, and the ends of the primaries are more distinct and spread out like fingers. The heavier, clumsier flight of the black vulture, with frequent flappings of the wings, easily dis- tinguishes the two birds, although in very favorable airs the black vulture may soar nearly as well as the turkey vulture.
Enemies.—The black vulture is fortunate in having few if any enemies. Eagles and wolves may chase it away from a carcass, and ospreys may wrathfully pursue it if it appropriates a fish from the osprey’s nest. Even man treats it with consideration in return for its services in cleaning up carrion and offal, although in time most southern cities may adopt the more sanitary but more expensive methods needed in northern cities in order to escape the defilements of these scavenger birds. In some regions, as has already been men- tioned under “Food”, it may be necessary for man to control these birds when they kill young domestic animals.
BLACK VULTURE 43
While smaller birds take alarm quickly at the sight of a hawk, they are not disturbed by the presence of these vultures. M. P. Skin- ner thus writes of a black vulture in a roost among the sandhills of North Carolina: “They never bothered small birds—wood ducks, blackbirds, meadowlarks and myrtle warblers among others—who seemed to know this and to be able to recognize the vulture readily. They showed no alarm at the vultures sailing over them, although quick to dive out of sight when even a small hawk appeared.”
DISTRIBUTION
Range.—The Southeastern United States, Central and South America; casual in the West Indies, the Northern and Western States, and southeastern Canada. Not regularly migratory.
The normal range of the black vulture extends north to south- eastern Kansas (Chetopa); Missouri (Ozark Mountains and the vicinity of St. Louis) ; southern Illinois (Anna and Mount Carmel) ; Indiana (Annapolis and Brookville); Ohio (Hocking County) ; eastern Kentucky (Lexington); and eastern Virginia (opposite Plummers Island, Md.). East to Virginia (opposite Plummers Island, Md., probably Newport News, and Suffolk) ; North Carolina (Raleigh and probably Fort Macon); South Carolina (Oakley Depot) ; Georgia (Savannah, Blackbeard Island, McIntosh, and St. Marys); Florida (Gainesville, Orange Lake, Fruitland Park, Titusville, Kissimmee Prairie, Big Cypress Swamp, and Royal Palm Park) ; southeastern Mexico (Chichen-Itza, Yucatan, and the terri- tory of Quintana Roo); British Guiana (Georgetown); French Guiana (Cayenne); eastern Brazil (Counani River, Para, Capim River, Cantagallo, Rio de Janeiro, and Taquara) ; Paraguay (Puerto Pinasco, Concepcion, and Asuncion) ; and Argentina (Formosa, Las Palmas, Resistencia, Santa Fe, Buenos Aires, and Rio Negro). South to Argentina (Rio Negro, Cordoba, Mendoza, and Tunuyan) ; and Chile (Ancud). West to Chile (Ancud, Valdivia, Concepcion, Santiago, Valparaiso, and Coquimbo) ; Peru (Ica and Callao) ; Ecua- dor (Babahoyo, Riobamba, and Quito); Colombia (Honda and Antioquia) ; Panama (Ancon and Culebra) ; Costa Rica (La Palma, San Jose, Juan Vinas, and Miravalles); Nicaragua (Escondido River) ; Guatemala; Tepic (Acaponeta River) ; Sinaloa (Mazatlan) ; Sonora (Guaymas and Tonichi) ; western Texas (San Angelo, Fort Worth, Decatur, and Gainesville) ; Oklahoma (Caddo, Limestone Gap, and Tulsa) ; and southeastern Kansas (Chetopa).
The range as above outlined is for the entire species, the typical race, (. a. atratus, occupying the northern regions south to Mexico and Central America, while the South American bird is known as Coragyps a. foetens.
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Casual records.—The black vulture has a penchant for extensive wandering, which many times takes it far north of its regular range. At such times it has been recorded north to Colorado (one taken on October 8 or 9, 1921, near Boulder) ; Nebraska (one taken on Wolf Creek sometime prior to 1905) ; Michigan (three seen near Tecumseh, October 4, 1924) ; New York (one seen at West Seneca in June 1884; one at Medina on May 28, 1892; one taken on Plum Island, May 19 or 20, 1896; and one shot near Pulteney, July 11, 1909) ; Connecticut (one seen at Bolton reservoir, October 10, 1879, and one shot at East Lyme on July 6, 1901) ; Massachusetts (several records, among them being one on November 16, 1889, at Essex; one on July 2, 1890, at Plymouth; one on October 5, 1902, at Taunton; one shot Sep- tember 15, 1905, at Waltham; one taken on May 12, 1916, at Pigeon Cove; and one seen on November 2, 1924, at Ipswich) ; New Hamp- shire (one shot at Randolph, April 17, 1926; one seen at East West- moreland, May 9, 1933; and one seen about May 1, 1926, at White- field) ; Vermont (one taken July 11, 1884, near Montpelier, and one shot at Pawlet, July 7, 1912); Maine (nine records, the more recent being one captured alive near Dover, on August 20, 1901; one shot at Lubec, August 26, 1904; one shot on September 25, 1907, at Whitefield; one taken on July 6, 1909, at Monhegan Island; and one seen on July 11, 1915, at Scarboro) ; Quebec (one taken on Octo- ber 28, 1897, at Beauport) ; New Brunswick (one about August 1879 at Campobello Island, and one seen August 9, 1924, at Grand Manan) ; and Nova Scotia (one taken January 12, 1896, at Pugwash).
Several were seen during May 1890 in the Tonto Basin, Ariz., and about a dozen were observed a few miles south of Tucson on May 7, 1922. No specimen is recorded for Cuba, but Danforth (1928) records four seen late in June or early in July 1926, near El Cobre. The species has been said to occur in Jamaica (Sclater, 1910), while in the Lesser Antilles it has been reported from Grenada (Clark, 1905) and Trinidad, where it is said to be common (Chap- man, 1894). It is probable, however, that the black vultures of Trinidad are the South American race.
Egg dates—Texas to Florida and North Carolina: 198 records, January 20 to July 7; 99 records, March 12 to April 17.
Family ACCIPITRIIDAE: Kites, Hawks, and Allies ELANOIDES FORFICATUS FORFICATUS (Linnaeus) SWALLOW-TAILED KITE HABITS This elegant bird seems to have largely withdrawn from its for-
mer wide range in North America and is now confined, in this coun- try, mainly, if not wholly, to Florida and perhaps the other Gulf
SWALLOW-TAILED KITE 45
States. I have never seen it anywhere but in southern Florida, where it is still fairly common. Here we may look for its arrival early in March; Harold H. Bailey’s (1925) earliest date is March 3; but Charles J. Pennock tells me that he has seen it at St. Marks as early as February 28. Audubon (1840) says: “In the States of Louisiana and Mississippi, where these birds are abundant, they ar- rive in large companies, in the beginning of April, and are heard uttering a sharp plaintive note. At this period I generally re- marked that they came from the westward, and have counted up- wards of a hundred in the space of an hour, passing over me in a direct easterly course.”
I first made my acquaintance with this beautiful species in the Cape Sable region of extreme southern Florida. While crossing the narrow strip of prairie between Flamingo and Alligator Lake, we saw seven of these lovely birds sailing about over the prairie, soaring in circles high overhead, or scaling along close to the ground, like glorified swallows. They seemed to be quartering the ground systematically in the search for prey, for, as they circled, they gradu- ally moved along over new ground. It was a joy to watch their graceful movements and a pity to disturb them, but my companion, the late Louis A. Fuertes, and I both wanted specimens. We con- cealed ourselves in the long grass and had not long to wait before we had two of the birds down on the ground and five others hov- ering over them, after the manner of terns, uttering their weak squealing or whistling notes. We shot no more; they were too beau- tiful; and we were rapt in admiration of their graceful lines, the purity of their contrasting colors, and the beautiful grapelike bloom on their backs and wings, which so soon disappears in museum specimens. I shall never forget the loving reverence with which the noted bird artist admired his specimen, as he began at once to sketch its charms.
Courtship.—tI have never seen what I was sure was a courtship performance, but apparently this consists of spectacular aerial evolu- tions. Major Bendire (1892) quotes J. W. Preston as follows:
Of all aérial performances I have ever witnessed, the mating of the Swallow- tailed Kite excels. Ever charming and elegant, they outdo themselves at this season. In the spring of 1886 they chose as their mating ground an open space over the mouth of an ice-cold brook that made its way out from a dark tangled larch swamp. From my boat on the lake I had an excellent view of them. All the afternoon seven of these matchless objects sported, chasing each other here and there, far and near, sailing along in easy curves, floating, falling, and rising, then darting with meteor-like swiftness, commingling and separating with an abandon and airy ease that is difficult to imagine.
Col. N. S. Goss (1891) says: “I once saw a pair of these birds in the act of copulation. They were sitting on a small, horizontal limb,
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close together and facing each other, when, quick as a flash, the female turned or backed under the limb, the male meeting her from the top.”
Nesting.—Much has been written about the nesting habits of the swallow-tailed kite in various parts of the country. In Florida its favorite nesting sites are in the tall, slender, Cuban pines near cypress swamps. The nests are seldom found very far from the cypresses and are sometimes placed in the tops of these trees. The kites are quite dependent on the long Spanish moss for nest building, and H. H. Bailey told me that recent hurricanes in extreme south- ern Florida have destroyed so much of this moss that the kites have largely moved away from certain sections. Dr. W. L. Ralph, who had considerable experience with these kites in Florida, sent the fol- lowing notes to Major Bendire (1892): “They usually commence laying about the middle of April, and I have found them sitting on their nests from that time until the 1st of June, the latter being the latest date I have ever remained in Florida. Most of them have their eggs laid by the middle of May. * * * Asnearly as I could judge, about three-fourths of the nests of this species found by me were about the same distance above the ground, 1. e., they were 90 feet, and the remainder from a little above that height to 125 or 130 feet.”
He describes a typical nest as follows:
It was situated 90 feet above the ground in, or rather on, the top of a very slender pine tree growing on the edge of a cypress swamp. The trunk of this tree at a height of 5 feet above the ground was not more than 15 inches in diameter, and at the place where my climber stood, as he took the eggs, it was less than 3 inches, while the limbs he stood on were only about an inch thick. The nest was composed of large twigs thickly covered with Spanish moss (Tillandsia usneoides) and long moss (Usnea barbata), lined with the same materials, with the addition of a few feathers from the birds. It measured 20 inches in length, 15 inches in width, and 12 inches in depth on the outside, and 6 inches in diameter by 4 inches deep on the inside. * * *
The Swallow-tailed Kite has a peculiar way of leaving its nest, for instead of flying directly from one side, as other birds do, it nearly always rises straight up for a short distance first, as if it were pushed up with a spring, and, when about to alight on its nest, it will poise itself a short distance above its eggs and then gradually lower itself down on to them. When they are thus poised above their nests there is scarcely a perceptible movement of their wings, and they often lower themselves so gradually that one can hardly tell when they have reached their eggs.
Bendire (1892) quotes J. W. Preston as follows:
* %* * Nesting materials (twigs and moss) are carried by the female in her talons, the male following close, and going on the nest to arrange them. Days, and sometimes even weeks, are required to suitably complete the struc- ture. During this time they work in the morning and fly over the lakes and
SWALLOW-TAILED KITE 47
woods in the afternoon. The nest is usually built on the foundation of an old one of a previous year. The female does not alight to secure nesting materials, but snatches them while in full flight. Once, while standing in a larch swamp, a Kite dashed by me and took up a small twig, heavily draped with usnea, and proudly soared out over the woods with it.
Colonel Goss (1891) watched a pair building a nest in the top of a large hickory tree, and says: “When either came to the nest alone with a stick, it would place it hurriedly upon the nest, but when both met at the nest they would at once commence fussing about, pulling at the sticks and trying to arrange the material, first one getting upon the nest and then the other, turning around as if trying to fit a place for the bodies. I think at one time they must have worked at least ten minutes trying to weave in or place in a satisfactory manner a stripping from the inner bark of the cotton- wood. As builders they are not a success.”
In Texas these kites sometimes nest in tall pines, but oftener in the tops of the largest and loftiest deciduous trees, such as cotton- woods, elms, sycamores, pin oaks, cypresses, or pecans, along the banks of streams or in the river bottoms. The nests are often 100 to 150 feet above the ground, seldom less than 60, and placed among the slender topmost branches, concealed in the thick foliage; oc- casionally a nest is placed far out on a horizontal limb.
G. B. Benners (1889) mentions a nest that was over 200 feet from the ground in a giant cottonwood. He describes another nest as follows:
It is about one foot wide by two feet long, and four inches deep (or high), perfectly flat on top, with just the least depression in the middle to hold the eggs. Composed of a harsh green moss with a little Spanish moss among it, and with a mass of small twigs mixed in among the moss. These twigs must have the moss growing on them, for I saw several Kites carrying twigs with moss hanging from them, during our trip. The nest is just a platform, and what keeps the eggs from rolling out during the high wind, when the bird is not on, I cannot see. All the other nests we saw were of the same description, with the exception of one, which was composed wholly of Spanish moss. As the trees were all covered with this moss it was very hard indeed to see the nests.
J. W. Preston (1886) records the nesting of this kite in the wilder- ness of Becker County, Minn., and says of the locality : “Somewhere back from the shores of one of these lakes, where the rich flat land had sent up a heavy growth of basswood, elm and balsam, and the higher ground was covered with poplar, sugar tree and birch, a pair of Swallow-tailed Kites (Hlanoides forficatus) had chosen a nesting place.” The nest was finally found, after much watching, in the extreme top of a tall white birch, “whose greatest diameter was less than twelve inches, with scarcely a dozen branches, and
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these close to the nest, which was borne fifty feet upwards, and swayed by the slightest breeze.” He says of the nest:
The nest consisted of small, dead larch branches, thickly interwoven with a long, fine moss, or lichen, found in great abundance on the larch everywhere in that region. This substance also formed a soft lining to the deep, well- shaped structure. In the nest were over two hundred separate pieces, which had been carried, one at a time, from a marsh a mile distant. It therefore required the travelling of four hundred miles to do the work; and there were certainly as many pieces strewn upon the ground as appeared in the nest. The birds also made long circuits while about the nest and at the swamp, where the material was gathered, so that no less than eight hundred miles must have been traversed while constructing the nest.
The swallow-tailed kite seems to have disappeared entirely from the northern portions of its breeding range during recent years. Dr. Thomas S. Roberts (1919) says: “The seemingly almost com- plete disappearance of this beautiful and once frequent bird is difficult to understand.”
All observers seem to agree that the swallow-tailed kite is a very bold and aggressive bird in the defense of its nest. In many cases the birds have attacked the climber, diving at him repeatedly, dashing through the branches above him, and threatening to strike him, all of which is quite disconcerting while he is clinging to the slender, swaying treetop. Evidently the collector of a set of eggs earns his prize.
Eggs.—The swallow-tailed kite lays usually two eggs, sometimes three; four eggs have been reported and may occasionally occur, but the larger numbers reported were doubtless errors. They are rounded-ovate or nearly oval in shape; the shell is smooth and not glossy. The ground color is white or creamy white. They are usually boldly and irregularly, sometimes heavily, blotched or spoited, the markings often concentrated at one end; sometimes they are more evenly spotted and rarely finely or sparingly marked with fine dots. The usual colors of the markings are dark browns, “bone brown” to “liver brown”; but they often are brighter browns, “chestnut” or “Kaiser brown”, or “ochraceous-tawny.”
Occasionally a few small shell markings of light lavender are seen. The measurements of 50 eggs average 46.7 by 37.4 millimeters; the eges showing the four extremes measure 50 by 39, 49.3 by 39.5, and 41.9 by 34.5 millimeters.
Young.—The incubation period for this species does not seem to be definitely known, but for other kites it is said to be from 21 to 24 days. Both parents share the duties of incubation and care of the young. Beyond the fact that they are very devoted and will fiercely defend their offspring, very little seems to be known about their home life.
SWALLOW-TAILED KITE 49
Plumages.—I have seen but two rather large nestlings of the swal- low-tailed kite. The smaller one, largely downy, was covered with short, thick, white down, faintly tinged with yellowish, and glossy black feathers were sprouting in the wings and tail. In the larger bird the back was well covered with black feathers, narrowly edged with white; “cinnamon-buff” or buffy-white feathers were appearing on the breast, belly, crown, and hind neck.
I have not seen a fully grown young bird in fresh juvenal plumage, but older birds in summer have lost the white edgings on the mantle and the buff colors on the under parts, probably by wear and fading; but August birds still have the dusky shaft streaks on the crown and breast, which gradually fade and probably disappear at the fall molt; in this plumage the mantle is browner than in adults, with greenish rather than purplish reflections, and the grapelike bloom is lacking; the wing and tail feathers and the primary coverts are narrowly tipped with white.
I have been unable to find any molt of the flight feathers in August birds (5 examined) and infer that this molt is accomplished after the birds leave for the south.
Food.—The food of the swallow-tailed kite consists mainly of small reptiles, amphibians, and insects. Dr. A. K. Fisher (1893) says that “it never molests small mammals and birds”; and some other observers agree with him. But George Finlay Simmons (1925) includes in its food “field mice, young Western Mockingbirds and Texas Painted Buntings which it takes on the wing from nests in mesquite growth.” On the whole its food habits are neither bene- ficial nor particularly harmful. Its food includes small snakes, for which it is often called “snake hawk”, lizards, frogs, and tree toads. It feeds very largely on grasshoppers, locusts, crickets, cicadas, beetles of various kinds, bees, wasp grubs, dragonflies, cotton worms, and various other insects. Practically all its food is procured on the wing and eaten while flying. Audubon (1840) says:
They dive in rapid succession amongst the branches, glancing along the trunks, and seizing in their course the insects and small lizards of which they are in quest. Their motions are astonishingly rapid, and the deep curves which they describe, their sudden doublings and crossings, and the extreme ease with which they seem to cleave the air, excite the admiration of him who views them while thus employed in searching for food. * * * In calm and warm weather, they soar to an immense height, pursuing the large insects called Musquito Hawks, and performing the most singular evolutions that can be conceived, using their tail with an elegance of motion peculiar to themselves. Their principal food, however, is large grasshoppers, grass-caterpillars, small snakes, lizards, and frogs. They sweep close over the fields, sometimes seem- ing to alight for a moment to secure a snake, and holding it fast by the neck, carry it off, and devour it in the air. * * *
The Fork-tailed Hawks are also very fond of frequenting the creeks, which, in that country, are much encumbered with drifted logs and accumulations
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of sand, in order to pick up some of the numerous water-snakes which lie basking in the sun. At other times, they dash along the trunks of trees, and snap off the pupae of the locust, or that insect itself. Although when on wing they move with a grace and ease which it is impossible to describe, yet on the ground they are scarcely able to walk.
Baird, Brewer, and Ridgway (1905) write:
One was noticed as it was hunting after grasshoppers. It went over the ground as carefully as a well-trained pointer, every now and then stopping to pick up a grasshopper, the feet and bill seeming to touch the insect simul- taneously. They were very fond of wasp grubs, and would carry a nest to a high perch, hold it in one claw, and sit there picking out the grubs. * * *
Mr. R. Owen, while travelling from Coban to San Geronimo, in Guatemala, among the mountains, came suddenly upon a large flock of two or three hun- dred of these Hawks, which were pursuing and preying upon a swarm of bees. At times they passed within four or five yards of him. Every now and then the neck was observed to be bent slowly and gracefully, bringing the head quite under the body. At the same time the foot, with the talons con- tracted as if grasping some object, would be brought forward to meet the beak. The beak was then seen to open and to close again, and then the head was again raised and the foot thrown back. This movement was repeatedly observed, and it was quite clear to him that the birds were preying upon the bees.
Behavior.—The flight of the condor or the eagle may be grand, majestic, but the flight of the swallow-tailed kite is beautiful in the extreme, unsurpassed in grace and elegance. Coues (1874), in his usual matchless style, describes it as follows:
Marked among its kind by no ordinary beauty of form and brilliancy of color, the Kite courses through the air with a grace and buoyancy it would be vain to rival. By a stroke of the thin-bladed wings and a lashing of the cleft tail, its flight is swayed to this or that side in a moment, or instantly arrested. Now it swoops with incredible swiftness, seizes without a pause, and bears its struggling captive aloft, feeding from its talons as it flies; now it mounts in airy circles till it is a speck in the blue ether and disappears. All its actions, in wantonness or in severity of the chase, display the dash of the athletic bird, which, if lacking the brute strength and brutal ferocity of some, becomes their peer in prowess—like the trained gymnast, whose tight-strung thews, supple joints, and swelling muscles, under marvellous control, enable him to execute feats that to the more massive or not so well conditioned frame would be impossible. One cannot watch the flight of the Kite without com- paring it with the thorough-bred racer.
Holt and Sutton (1926) write: “That this kite is playful, or mis- chievous, was obvious. Once a pelican flew slowly along under a soaring kite. The kite swooped down at the pelican and nagged the big clumsy creature for half a mile, crying loudly the while in a high voice, kit-ki-ki, Again, when a Barred Owl was flushed from a thicket, two kites slashed furiously down at the owl, crying loudly, and clearly intent on driving the creature away.”
Donald J. Nicholson (1928a) relates the following:
On several occasions I had the privilege of witnessing at close range the bird taking a bath and a cooling drink from a deep pool hidden in a big
SWALLOW-TAILED KITE 51
cypress swamp. I was sitting under the shade of an oak, eating my lunch, when I saw a Kite come sailing around over the lake, finally coming down lower and lower. Satisfying itself that no harm was near, it swooped down to the surface and merely brushed its belly in the water for several yards, as if wishing to cool off; it was probably a setting bird. It then rose, circled about, and again swooped down, this time trailing its entire underparts and long tail in the water, taking a drink by dipping its bill in the lake. This was repeated six or eight more times with variations; sometimes merely trailing its body and tail feathers and not drinking, or doing both at the same time. After about ten minutes, the bird circled high, shook itself, folding its wings as it did so, dropped several feet, and then sailed from sight.
Voice—I recorded the cries of distress or anxiety over fallen companions as weak, squealing, or whistling notes. Bendire (1892) says: “Their call notes are a shrill keen ‘e-e-e,’ or ‘we-we-we,’ uttered in a high key, which is very piercing and may be heard at a great distance.” When several are flying together they have been heard to give soft twittering notes. Mr. Nicholson refers to their notes as “shrill, sweet cries, sounding like peat, peat, peat.”
Field marks.—The white head, neck, and underparts, the black wings and back, and the long, forked, black tail are unmistakable. But, above all, the graceful, swallowlike flight makes the bird rec- ognizable as far as it can be seen. It need never be mistaken for any- thing else.
Fall.—Most observers record the swallow-tailed kite as a summer resident in the United States, departing in August or September for its winter home in Central or South America. It often occurs in large flocks while migrating. There are, however, some late fall and winter records for even the northern portion of its former range. D. H. Talbot (1882) saw a flock of 50 or more near Bismarck, N. Dak., on November 17, 1881. And Dr. Elliott Coues (1878) was informed by Dr. C. E. McChesney of the presence of this kite at Fort Sisseton, Dakota, during nearly the whole of the previous winter.
DISTRIBUTION
feange-—The United States east of the Rocky Mountains, south to Argentina. Casual in the Northern States and in southern Canada; accidental in Great Britain. Now practically extirpated from the northern part of its range.
Breeding range.—The breeding range of the swallow-tailed kite has extended north to probably formerly Nebraska (Doss and London) ; formerly Minnesota (Lake Minnetonka); formerly Wis- consin (Fort Atkinson and Racine) ; probably formerly Ohio (Port- age and Stark Counties) ; and North Carolina (Lake Ellis). East to North Carolina (Lake Ellis); South Carolina (Chester and Charleston); Georgia (Marshallville and probably St. Marys) ; Florida (Palatka, San Mateo, Orlando, Lake Gentry, St. Johns
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Prairie, probably Lake Worth, and Miami); probably Cuba (Habana, Bahia, and Cienega Oriental de Zapata); probably occasionally the Lesser Antilles (St. Bartholomew and Trinidad) ; British Guiana (Waini River, Georgetown, and Aremu River) ; Brazil (Para, Capim River, Bahia, Cantagallo, and Pirahy); and Argentina (Territory of Misiones and Buenos Aires). South to Argentina (Buenos Aires) and southern Bolivia (Chiquitos). West to Bolivia (Chiquitos); Peru (Chamicuros and Huallaga River); Ecuador (Santo Domingo de los Colorados and Bucay) ; Colombia (Nechi, Bucaramanga, and Cali); Costa Rica (San Jose and Naranjo) ; Nicaragua (Escondido River and Chontales) ; Guate- mala (Coban) ; Jalapa; Nuevo Leon (Saltillo) ; Texas (San Antonio, Austin, Waco, formerly Decatur, and Gainesville); Oklahoma (Caddo) ; Kansas (Neosho Falls, Topeka, and probably Manhat- tan) ; and probably formerly Nebraska (Doss).
The range as above outlined is for the entire species. The South American form has been separated as Hlanoides f. yetapa, but the area of demarcation or intergradation between the two races, though believed to be in Costa Rica, is at present imperfectly known.
Winter range.—During the winter season the swallow-tailed kite withdraws almost entirely from the United States, although a few are reported to winter in southern Florida (Harney River). The distance that the northern form goes southward at this season is not yet known, but a specimen from Bucay, Ecuador, taken in De- cember, is referable to this race.
Coues (1878) quoted a report to him that some were seen almost all the winter of 1877-78 at Fort Sisseton, Dakota.
Spring migration—Early dates of arrival are: Florida—Titus- ville, March 1; Pensacola, March 8; St. Marks, March 11; and Royal Palm Hammock, March 13. Georgia—Cumberland, April 4. South Carolina—Mount Pleasant, March 19. Mississippi—Biloxi, March 18. Louisiana—New Orleans, March 23; and Holden, April 5. Mis- souri—Bolton, April 10; and Warrensburg, April 15. Texas— Nunnsville, February 1; Giddings, February 13; Corpus Christi, March 12; and Gainesville, March 21. Oklahoma—Caddo, April 1. Kansas—Richmond, April 15; and Neosho Falls, April 27. Nebraska—Vesta, April 3.
Fall migration.—Late dates of fall departure are: lowa—Grinnell, September 16; and Hillsboro, September 24. Missouri—Courtney, September 4; and St. Louis, September 15. Texas—Corpus Christi, September 1; and Tivoli, September 2. Mississippi—Bay St. Louis, September 7.
Casual records—The swallow-tailed kite has been recorded out- side of its normal range on numerous occasions. Among these are the following: Virginia, one at Aylett, on August 31, 1895; Maryland,
SWALLOW-TAILED KITE ao
- one taken at Ellicott City, on August 7, 1879, and one taken in ' Montgomery County, August 3, 1895; District of Columbia, one
seen at the Virginia end of the Aqueduct Bridge, on April 11, 1897 (Bartsch); Pennsylvania, one taken near Philadelphia, April 4, 1791, and another in 1857, one captured at Olney in the spring of 1888, and one taken at Jerseytown, August 8, 1894; New Jersey, one taken about 1872 at Chatham (Herrick) and one seen at Morris- town, September 18, 1887; New York, one at Raynor South in 1837, one about 1845 on the south shore of Long Island, one shot at Pittstown, on July 17, 1886, one seen at Stephentown on April 10, 1895, and another recorded on August 22, 1900, from Piermont; Connecticut, one seen July 2, 1877, at Lyme, another noted near Portland during the summer of 1861, while a third was recorded from Saybrook on June 16, 1889; Massachusetts, one taken at West Newbury about September 25, 1882, one seen near Northampton in 1880, while sometime prior to 1870 one was seen at Whately; Ver- mont, one seen at Waitsfield on April 26, 1913; New Hampshire, one recorded from Franklin in 1875; Ontario, one seen at Port Sydney on July 15, 1897, and Macoun (1903) records one seen at Ottawa prior to 1881, while Fleming (1907) records one from London “said to have been taken [there] many years ago”; Michigan, one taken near Detroit in the summer of 1881, one killed at Saline, on September 15, 1880, two obtained at Petersburg, on June 19, 1882, one taken at Ann Arbor on October 4, 1924, and another the same day near Ypsilanti; South Dakota, one shot several years ago near Vermillion, according to S. S. Visher (letter, 1912); North Dakota, in addition to the winter record of Coues, about 50 were reported near Jamestown between November i4 and 17, 1881 (Tal- bot, 1882); Manitoba, Seton (1908) reports that two were taken near Winnipeg in 1889 and 1892; Saskatchewan, while the species has been reported from this province, Mitchell (1924) considers the records as doubtful; New Mexico, one reported from the Capitan Mountains on July 10, 1903, one taken at Carlsbad about 1907, while a third was obtained at Cantonment Burgwyn about August 5, 1859; and Colorado, one shot in August 1877 in Manitou Park.
Swallow-tailed kites have been on a few occasions recorded from Great Britain as follows: One in 1772 at Balachulish, Argyllshire; one on September 6, 1805, at Shawgill, Cumberland; one in the summer of 1833 at Farnham, Surrey; one shot in June 1853 on the Mersey River; and probably another taken in April 1853 at Eskdale, Cumberland (Dalgleish, 1880).
Egg dates.—Texas to Florida: 81 records, March 10 to May 18; 41 records, April 7 to 26.
Towa: June 3.
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ELANUS LEUCURUS MAJUSCULUS Bangs and Penard NORTH AMERICAN WHITE-TAILED KITE
HABITS
The above name was applied to the North American bird by Bangs and Penard (1920) to distinguish it from the smaller South American race, to which the name Jewcwrus was originally applied. The northern bird is larger, with longer wing and tail and relatively wider tail feathers. They say of the two ranges: “The small south- ern form ranges from Argentina and Chile, northward to Vene- zuela; the large northern form from California, Texas, Oklahoma, South Carolina, and Florida, southward through Mexico to British Honduras and Guatemala. There is thus a wide area in southern Central America and northern South America between the ranges of the two forms as outlined above, where the species apparently does not occur at all.”
This gentle and attractive bird seems to have become exceedingly rare, or to have been entirely extirpated, in the eastern portions of its North American range. During my six seasons, or parts of seasons, spent in various portions of Florida I have never seen this kite; once a special trip was made to a section where our guide said they had recently nested, but no sign of them was found. Donald J. Nicholson tells me that he has not seen one there since 1910. We could not find it in southern Texas, and I have no recent records of it there. In certain sections of California it seems to be holding its own, though exceedingly local in its distribution, and nowhere universally abundant. J doubt if it ever was very abundant, al- though Cooper (1870) referred to it as “quite abundant in the middle districts of California, remaining in large numbers during winter among the extensive tule marshes of the Sacramento and other valleys”, and Belding (1890) considered it “still a common resident” about these marshes “in the centre of the State.” But Belding quotes Dr. B. W. Evermann, as calling it “a rare resident” in Ventura County, as early as 1886; and he quotes W. E. Bryant as saying that “it is still a very rare resident” in Alameda County. It seemed to be the general opinion, at that time, that the white-tailed kite was a disappearing species. As a result, it has since been rigidly protected by law and exempted from collecting permits.
Now comes more recent light on the subject, which is more en- couraging. Dr. Gayle B. Pickwell (1930) has published the results of his exhaustive study of the literature and his field work in the Santa Clara Valley. Referring to past and present conditions in that region, he says:
NORTH AMERICAN WHITE-TAILED KITE 55
In spite of the fact that Taylor, in 1889, wrote of the Kite, “I venture to assert that there are not more than four pairs this year breeding within a radius of seven miles of that city [San Jose]”, today, forty-one years later, there are still that many or more. * * *
Let us estimate that an average of four pairs of Kites (too high an esti- mate for some, too low, perhaps, for others) frequents each. We have then sixteen pairs of Kites in this entire valley. Twenty pairs, forty birds, I feel convinced, account for every Kite from Gilroy to the Bay and from Mount Hamilton to the summit of the Santa Cruz Mountains. * * *
The Kite was certainly more numerous in San Joaquin and Sacramento coun- ties forty to sixty years ago than it is now. In other regions where it was present, especially in marsh districts, undoubtedly it has been seriously re- duced in numbers. The condition in hill sections inhabited by it can be but guessed at. Here it probably has suffered least. * * *
This Kite is probably a dying species, never within historical times having predominated as such raptorial birds as the Desert Sparrow Hawk or Red- tailed Hawk for instance.
Since the above was written Dr. Pickwell (1932) has published a “requiem” for the kites in this valley; whereas he estimated that there were possibly 16 to 20 of these kites in the Santa Clara Valley in 1928, he now says: “This day (October 30, 1931) there cannot be more than two or three, and all too possibly none.” We hope that this is a mere local condition.
His observations on the home life of these kites were made in the foothills of the Mount Hamilton Range in Santa Clara County:
The Slatore ranch lies in the foothills whose summits are grass-covered with wild oats and bromes, with scattered valley oaks and live oaks, and here and there a cluster of California coffee berry (Rhammnus californica) and gnarled Sambucus. Rocky outcrops, where more moisture may be trapped, have curious copses of scrubby growths of toyon, holly-leaved cherry, sages and sage brush; and the gullies lined with buckeye, California laurel, and poison oak run down to Silver Creek where the laurels and willows predominate. But the hills are mostly smooth as velvet, golden velvet most of the year, and green oaks are scattered over the velvet, like buttons on a buxom vest. In three buttons on this velvet vest were occupied nests of the White-tailed Kite. [See pl. 18.]
That such a habitat is not an unusual Kite home is shown by the fact that all the Kites of Santa Clara Valley today are, excepting one or two pairs, restricted to the lower foothills of the Mount Hamilton Range and Santa Cruz Mountains, on either side of the north end of the Valley. The exception is of not more than two pairs that occur to the north of San Jose between that city and the Alviso salt marshes. These frequent the cottonwoods and eucalyp- tus trees of the Coyote Creek and, not infrequently, are seen hunting over the treeless marshes at the foot of the Bay in common with Marsh Hawks, native there, and Turkey Vultures and Red-tailed Hawks from the hills.
Bendire (1892) says of their haunts: “Their usual resorts during the breeding season are the banks of streams or the fresh water marshes, especially if a few scattered live oaks or willow groves are close by, and their favorite nesting sites are the tops of live oaks,
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although other trees are also made use of whose foliage securely con- ceals the nest during incubation.”
The impression I gained from men I talked with in California and from my own limited experience there was that this kite shows a decided preference for the vicinity of water, fresh-water marshes and streams; in such places it finds its food readily available all through the year, and it probably does not wander far away even in winter. According to Audubon (1840) it was found in similar haunts in Texas and Florida.
Nesting—The white-tailed kite nests in a variety of situations. Usually the nesting pairs are widely separated, but sometimes sey- eral pairs may be located near each other in favorable situations. Two of the nests studied by Dr. Pickwell (1930) were in “valley oaks (Quercus lobata), and the third a coast live oak (Quercus agrifolia). The three formed an oblique or scalene triangle on the rolling hills with the longest side 320 yards and the others 200 and 175 yards re- spectively. To anyone conversant with the wide spacing of most raptorial birds this juxtaposition of the Kite nest territories seems unusual—indeed, so much in contrast with their near-relatives, semi- communal.” The data, which he compiled from the literature cited, show that 11 nests were in live oaks, 3 or more in unspecified oaks, 2 or more in sycamores, and 1 in a maple. The heights from the ground varied from 18 to 50 feet; another that he measured was 59 feet. The nests were made of sticks and twigs of oaks in most cases, one being made of willow twigs. They were lined with grasses, dry stubble, barley straw, weed. stems, rootlets, or Spanish moss. Some were described as flat, flimsy structures, and others were large, well- made, substantial, and deeply hollowed. Of five references that de- scribe nesting sites, “two describe foothills (with oaks), two stream banks (or marshes with live oaks and willow groves nearby), and one a willow swamp.”
Dr. B. W. Evermann wrote to Major Bendire that his first nest “was near the end of one of the topmost limbs of a cottonwood.” Chester Barlow (1897), for one season at least, indulged in the bad practice of robbing the kites of their second sets. He found that they required about three weeks, or from 19 to 23 days, to lay a second set after the first set had been taken. These birds will almost always make a second attempt to raise a brood, in which they should not be discouraged, for whether they will make a third attempt or not is an open question.
I can add a little from my limited personal experience with the nesting habits of the white-tailed kite, as two of the three nests I saw were in situations different from any mentioned above. I was told that there were about six pairs of these kites nesting on an island in the Suisun Bay marshes. On April 15, 1929, my informant,
NORTH AMERICAN WHITE-TAILED KITE 57
James Moffitt, took me there to investigate it. It was a low flat island a mile or more square, mostly covered with long, thick grass, quite marshy in places, but largely dry. It was partially surrounded by a canal, which we navigated in a power boat. Extending along the banks of this canal in a curving line was a row of tall eucalyptus trees over a mile long. It was in these trees that the kites were nesting. As we approached we saw a kite sitting in the top of a dead tree, so we landed; and, after a short search, we saw what looked like a nest about 40 feet up in the thick top of a eucalyptus. After we had rapped the tree several times the kite flew off. It was a very uncomfortable tree to climb, but I managed to reach the nest, which was firmly lodged in the topmost crotch. I was surprised to find in it four small young, recently hatched. The nest was well made of small fine twigs, deeply hollowed, and profusely lined with dry grass; it was rather bulky and filled the crotch quite deeply. It had probably been used in previous years, as these kites have often been known to repair and use their old nests. Wishing to find a nest more conveniently located for photography, we spent considerable time hunting through the long row of eucalyptus trees; but, although we located at least three other pairs of kites, we could not find another nest. Although well hidden from below, the nests are open from above and give the birds a good lookout; the birds prob- ably left the nests as they saw us coming.
Another nest was shown to me by M. C. Badger on April 27, 1929. It was located in an extensive tract of small willows and cottonwoods, mixed with a dense tangle of underbrush and vines, growing over many dead or fallen trees and branches, all of which covered a broad sandy plain along a river in Ventura County. The nest was not over 15 feet from the ground, yet well hidden in a thick mass of tangled vines in the top of a small dead willow. It was a well-made nest of coarse sticks and fine twigs, deeply hollowed and lined, in the bottom of the hollow only, with strips of inner bark. It measured 21 inches over all, and the inner cavity was about 7 inches in diameter; it held three eggs. One of the birds was seen in the vicinity, but it did not come near the nest. As the eggs were warm, she had probably slipped off when she heard us coming through the thick brush. Another nest (pl. 17) that he showed me was about 30 feet up in the topmost twigs of a small willow in the middle of another extensive tract of willows, cotton- woods, and thick underbrush.
Eggs.—The eggs of the white-tailed kite are among the most beautiful and richly colored of any of the hawks’ eggs; consequently they are greatly in demand among oologists. The set usually con- sists of four or five eggs, sometimes only three, and I have one record
83561—37——5
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of six eggs. In shape they vary from ovate to oval, and the shell is smooth but not glossy. The white, or creamy-white, ground color is usually largely, and often wholly, concealed by the profuse mark- ings of rich browns, large blotches of dark “bone brown” or “liver brown”, over washes or splashes of brighter browns, such as “burnt sienna”, “amber brown”, “hazel”, “tawny”, or “ochraceous-tawny” ; some eggs are finely spotted with the darker browns over the lighter washes, or more rarely over the whitish ground color; in some eggs the heaviest markings are concentrated at one end and very rarely the rest of the egg or the entire egg is mainly white; the splashes and blotches have a longitudinal trend. The measurements of 50 eggs average 42.5 by 32.8 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 45.3 by 33.8, 42.4 by 35.6 and 38.1 by 30 millimeters.
¥oung.—Dr. Pickwell’s (1930) evidence “indicates that the incuba- tion period is not less than 30 days. Young are in the nest about 30 days.” Probably both sexes incubate; the sexes are so much alike that this is difficult to determine unless the act of nest relief is seen; such an observation does not seem to have been made. But both parents are known to share in the care of the young and sometimes an exceptionally aggressive pair will swoop down at the intruder. Chester Barlow (1895) relates the following:
After leaving the female flew over and around me a few times and was presently joined by the male, both flying near and uttering a raspy, clacking note which I had never heard before. This no doubt was giving vent to their anger. Now and then the short, sharp whistle characteristic of the bird was uttered. Soon the female flew to an oak a short distance away and the male took up the battle in earnest. Soaring away perhaps 100 yards he came swiftly toward me almost on a level with my head until within about ten feet when he would switch upwards. Then he would soar up and swoop down at lightning speed, always changing his course before reaching me. The rush of his wings was plainly audible. Again he was joined by the female but after a few attacks both flew to near-by trees where they remained till I had departed.
The young, according to Dr. Pickwell (1930), show the usual reactions, common to all raptorial birds, when too closely approached. “At first approach the young Kite spreads wide the wings and backs off with mouth agape, emitting a rasping note. If the tormentor per- sists, the bird thrusts its feet forward with a resultant dropping back upon the tail. The third and last stage is to drop completely on the back and to present the most impressive weapons a Kite has, the talons.”
Plumages—The smallest young, such as I found in the nest, are sparsely covered with short, dull-white down, tinged with “pinkish buff” on the crown and dorsal tracts, At a later downy stage Dr. Pickwell (1930) found the young bird clothed in “heavy bluish down.” <A nearly full-grown juvenal is a beautiful bird; the fore-
NORTH AMERICAN WHITE-TAILED KITE 59
head is white and the crown mostly “cinnamon”, heavily streaked with dusky; the back and scapulars are “hair brown” to “drab-gray”, broadly edged with “cinnamon”, or white and “cinnamon”; the tail is “pale to pallid mouse gray”, with a darker subterminal band and white tips; the lesser and median wing coverts are brownish black, the latter tipped with white; the remiges are “lght to pale mouse gray”, mostly white-tipped, the primaries darker near the tips; the under parts are white, heavily suffused with “cinnamon” on the breast and less so on the belly; the lores are dusky. Dr. Pickwell (1930) adds: “Toes and tarsus, yellow; beak and claws, black; eyelids, blue; iris, brown.”
This plumage is worn but a short time, and the bright colors soon disappear by wear and fading. A postjuvenal molt begins in July and continues through the fall; it involves all the contour plumage and the lesser and median wing coverts. Some November birds have nearly completed the molt but are still largely brown on the back. A January bird shows the last of this molt and is renewing the scapulars and tail feathers. Except for the wing quills, which are probably not shed until later, the young bird is practically adult by spring.
Adults apparently have a prolonged molt late in summer and in fall; a December bird has not yet completed the molt of the wings and tail but is otherwise in fresh plumage. I have seen South Amer- ican birds molting their flight feathers in July and October, their winter and spring.
Food.—The food of this kite includes field mice, wood rats, pocket gophers, ground squirrels, shrews, small birds, small snakes, lizards, frogs, grasshoppers, crickets, beetles, and other insects. Probably very few birds and few of the larger mammals are taken, but mainly the smaller vertebrates and the insects named. It is evidently a highly beneficial species. Dr. Loye Miller (1926) noted, from the examination of a well-filled stomach—
* * * that both its appetite and its table manners are far from dainty. Remains of four meadow mice (Microtus) and an entire shrew (Sorex ornatus) were identified in the contents of stomach and crop. The shrew was absolutely entire. The largest mouse had been torn apart in the lower thoracic region and the hinder portion bolted entire with skin and fur in place. Two mouse heads had been swallowed hair and all. The fore quarters of the mice seemed to have been stripped of skin, but great masses of skin and fur had been swallowed after stripping them off. Viscera and small bones indicated that most of both mice had been eaten, and there is no reason to believe that any
part had been discarded. Well cleaned bones from two other Microtus skulls were still retained in the stomach.
Dr, Pickwell (1930) writes:
The Kite hunts, not by soaring and searching from a lofty position as do Buteos, nor by the low harrier method of the Marsh Hawk, but by a rather
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erratic scouting from a position intermediate between these two. When prey is seen the bird “stands” with wings quiet if the air is moving sufficiently to permit it to “kite”, as its name would intimate its habit to be, or beats the Wings slowly from an angle well above the back. During such a stand it drops its legs. If it stoops it makes no falcon drop of lightning speed with wings drawn into a thin wedge along the sides of the body, but keeps them up in a V angle above and slips down with legs hanging and at a speed one would never guess was more than fast enough to catch a snail. But that they do catch prey, some of it very agile, there is no doubt. And that this method is used to catch it there is no doubt either, for they have been observed to do so.
Laurence G. Peyton (1915) says: “One morning, while working near the nest, my brother saw one of the Kites returning from the direction of the river with something in its claws. While still some distance from the nest it began calling and was quickly joined by the other bird. The first bird remained hovering in the air like a Sparrow Hawk, while the other darted up underneath it, took the food from its claws and returned to the nest while the other sailed away.”
Behavior—The flight of the white-tailed kite is light, airy, and graceful; often it is a pretty fluttering flight with quick wing beats, or a stationary hovering flight like a sparrow hawk; and at times it is quite swift. I noticed that when the bird is soaring or scaling there is a bend in the wing, as in the osprey. Dr. Pickwell (1930) describes it as “with wings slightly raised and down-curving at the tips.” Also he says: “The leg-dangling habit of the Kites is one of their most conspicuous oddities. On the nesting territory the pro- testing birds flew here and there nearly constantly, uttering their cries, beating the air slowly with short strokes, the wings held up at a sharp angle above the back, the legs dangling from a point about the center of the body.”
W. H. Hudson (1920) says of the South American form:
Its wing-power is indeed marvellous. It delights to soar, like the Martins, during a high wind, and will spend hours in this sport, rising and falling alternately, and at times, seeming to abandon itself to the fury of the gale, is blown away like thistle-down, until, suddenly recovering itself, it shoots back to its original position. Where there are tall Lombardy poplar-trees these birds amuse themselves by perching on the topmost slender twigs, balancing themselves with outspread wings, each bird on a separate tree, until the tree-tops are swept by the wind from under them, when they often remain poised almost motionless in the air until the twigs return to their feet.
Although ordinarily gentle birds, these kites are often very pugna- cious toward certain large birds, crows and hawks, that invade their territory. Several observers have seen them persistently drive away crows and the various Buteos. Dr. Pickwell (1930) writes:
In fact many of our records of Kites have come about because our attention has been drawn first to a large hurried Buteo in the distance and glasses
NORTH AMERICAN WHITE-TAILED KITE 61
showed there not only Buteo but Kites above swooping down, one, then the other (Kites are nearly always in pairs), in huge parabolas reaching a hundred feet or more above the harried giant. Down one comes with a rush and swings up again. Immediately after, the other one drops, then up, and so around and around they alternate until the distance and blue swallows up Buteo and tormentors. This game is played the year around, in the breeding season and out. Perhaps, as with the excitement that small birds display over the discovery of an owl, there may be a meaning in the Kites’ pugnacity. It may well be that the contents of the Kite nest, in the very top of its oak, concealed from below but completely exposed from above, are a temptation to these big hawks the Kites so persistently annoy. If so, then there is something of significance in the fact that Turkey Vultures, though they have always been, in the Kite territory, more numerous than all other large birds, are never molested.
Voice.—Dr. Pickwell (1930) also gives the best description of this bird’s notes, as follows:
The notes are several in number and no one word or term describes them all. The most frequently uttered is a spasmodic short whistle: kéé€p, ké€p, ké€p. At a distance it sounds like chip, chip, chip, or kip, kip, kip, kip, or even more chicken-like, chéép, chéép, chéép. This is the note that is given as the birds beat slowly here and there with legs dangling, and it expresses the mildest solicitude. Undoubtedly Dawson (1923) means this note with his “clewk”. The next is more highly pitched and longer, a “plaintive whistle” in truth. It may be transcribed as kréék or kréé-€ék. It may be as repeatedly and rapidly uttered as the former and expresses greater solicitude. The last and most solicitous, uttered usually only when an intruder is climbing the tree to a nest, is a prolonged kéé-rdék or kéé-rék. This note comes at the end of a series of kéé€p notes. Its terminus is lower and almost guttural, reminding me much of the whang of a focal-plane shutter. The notes of the young are two. They have a mild, high-pitched kréé-éék like the adults, and when at the height of their intimidation display they have a harsh scream uttered with the mouth enormously agape. This reminds one much of the rasping scream of the Barn Owl.
Field marks—The most striking field mark of this kite is its whiteness; in the distance it seems to be wholly white; it might easily be mistaken for a white domestic pigeon, except for its peculiar flight. But it can be recognized by its flight, described above, as far as its outline can be seen. If near enough its black shoulders and, at times, its dangling legs are diagnostic. As seen from below, it appears wholly white with a dark crescent at the bend of the wing and gray at the extreme tip; its tail is decidedly rounded.
E’'nemies.—Milton S. Ray has sent me some extensive notes on his experiences with these kites in several of the central counties of Cali- fornia, from the late nineties up to 1932. He says that jays, magples, or crows will sometimes puncture or destroy the eggs in an incomplete set. Once he saw a raccoon leaving a nest, and the eggs, which it had contained previously, had entirely vanished. He men- tions a very loosely built nest, “so frail and open that one of the four eggs partially fell through the nest.” Another nest “was so com-
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pactly built that it held water” and, after a storm, the eggs were “almost submerged”; the nest was subsequently deserted.
He agrees with other observers as to the recent disappearance of these kites, saying: “Occasional birds were recorded in the last decade but at the present writing (1932) the birds seem to have dis- appeared from almost every point simultaneously.” As to the cause of its decline, he says:
This Kite is peculiarly friendly and unsuspicious and therefore exceptionally easy to shoot. This is particularly true during the nesting period. Through a mistaken belief that the bird preys on quail, ducks, and other game birds the kites have been widely shot by hunters, gamekeepers, and ranchers. The “hunts” of gun clubs instituted by the various cartridge companies to extermi- nate owls, hawks, jays, and crows (these hunts are a curse of the present generation) have been largely responsible for the extermination of these beautiful birds. In a number of cases I have actually been able to prevent the birds being shot. In some instances I have found that the rather close resemblances this kite bears to the smaller gulls, as Bonaparte’s and the kitti- wake, has also prevented it from being killed.
DISTRIBUTION
Range.——TVhe Southern United States south to central South America; accidental in central and northern States. Not considered migratory and now apparently almost extinct in North America.
Although the white-tailed kite is a transcontinental species, its range (in the United States) is more or less discontinuous, there being great areas from which it is practically or entirely unknown. The range extends north to central California (Geyserville, St. Helena, and Stockton); Oklahoma (Fort Arbuckle); and Florida (near Lake Kissimmee). East to Florida (near Lake Kissimmee and Fort Myers) ; eastern British Guiana (Demerara River) ; east- ern Brazil (Porto Real, Bahia, and Itarare) ; and eastern Argentina (Concepcion, Baradero, and Buenos Aires). South to Argentina (Buenos Aires); and Chile (Arauco). West to Chile (Arauco and Santiago); northwestern Argentina (Tucuman); northern Brazil (Forte de San Joaquim) ; western British Guiana (Mount Roraima) ; Lower California (San Carlos and Cape Colnett) ; and California (Alamitos, Saticoy, Santa Barbara, Hollister, San Jose, Santa Clara, Lake Merced, Nicasio, and Geyserville).
The range as outlined is for the entire species, but the United States form, #. 1. majusculus, is not known south of Lower Cali- fornia.
Casual records——Audubon recorded the white-tailed kite as breed- ing on the Santee River, 8. C., but Wayne (1910) believes this to be an error. A specimen was recorded from Marthas Vineyard, Mass., on May 30, 1910; one was shot near Kenner, La., on October
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11, 1890; Ridgway reported a pair seen at Mount Carmel, Il., during the summer of 1863 or 1864; one was said to have been taken near Ann Arbor, Mich., in September 1878, and one in Livingston County on April 21, 1879 (Barrows, 1912); while it also has been reported from northern California, as a specimen was obtained about August 6, 1924, at Miranda, and there is also a record from Red Bluff (C. H. Townsend, 1887).
Egg dates—California to Texas: 120 records, February 12 to June 21; 60 records, April 2 to 29,
ICTINIA MISISIPPIENSIS (Wilson) MISSISSIPPI KITE
HABITS
As I have never seen this kite in life, I shall have to rely wholly on the observations of others. It is a bird of the Lower Austral Zone, being seen chiefly in the Southern States from South Caro- lina and northern Florida to Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas. Walter Colvin writes to me that he found this kite quite common in Barber County, Kans. “A bend of the Medicine Lodge River, where the timber consisted of elm, cottonwood, walnut, white locust, black locust, redwood, mulberry, boxelder, and cedar, which grew in parklike fashion, seemed to be a favorable location. Here more than a dozen kites were seen in the air at once.”
Although rather widely distributed within the region outlined above, it seems to be localized in breeding communities, rather thickly populated, and to be entirely absent from apparently similar inter- vening territory. It also seems to gather in very large numbers, at other times, on particularly favorable feeding grounds.
Spring—The Mississippi kite is a summer resident in the United States, arriving from the south in March or April. Dr. Frank M. Chapman (1891) witnessed a heavy migration near Corpus Christi, Tex., of which he writes: “This species was first observed April 24, when nine individuals were seen flying northward. The following day we crossed a great flight of these birds. They could be seen to the limit of vision both to the north and south, and about twenty- five were in sight at one time. They flew northward at varying heights; some were within gunshot, while others were so far above the earth that they looked no larger than swallows.”
Audubon (1840), in his usual flowery style, describes the coming of spring in southern Louisiana, where he says that this kite arrives “about the middle of April, in small parties of five or six, and con- fines itself to the borders of deep woods, or to those near plantations, not far from the shores of rivers, lakes, or bayous. It never moves
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into the interior of the country, and in this respect resembles Falco furcatus. Plantations lately cleared, and yet covered with tall dying girted trees, placed near a creek or bayou, seem to suit it best.”
G. W. Stevens tells me that it arrives in northern Oklahoma from May 1 to 15. And Charles J. Pennock gives me his earliest date for northern Florida as March 1. He says that during the spring this kite frequents “the neighborhood of the more dense, low hammocks, while later in the season it might be found in the vicinity of the rivers and ponds.”
Nesting —Although the Mississippi kite often builds its nest in the top of some tall tree, Mr. Colvin has sent me some notes on sev- eral nests that he found in the valley of the Medicine River, Kans., which were at rather low elevations. He refers to one nest that “was 50 feet up in the outer branches of a cottonwood”; but the others, ten or more, found on two or more days spent in the kite country, were in low elms or walnut trees. The timber in which the kites were nesting on May 31 and June 7, 1931, “was made up largely of elm, walnut, chinaberry, and elder. Most of the trees were stunted by the wind and storms and most of the elms were blighted.” One nest in an elm was “situated on a limb about 12 feet from the ground, small and compactly built of sticks of trees, 6 to 8 inches in length. The usual sticks were one-fourth to three-eighths of an inch in diameter and broken clean at both ends. The nest was lined with green walnut leaves” (pl. 22). Another nest was “in the upper branches of a small walnut tree some 18 feet from the ground.” ‘Two other nests mentioned were on horizontal limbs of dwarf elms, 14 and 18 feet up, one of these measured 10 inches in diameter and 8 inches in height; it had ‘ta small quantity of dried plants in the center” and was lined with green walnut leaves.
Mr. Stevens tells me that in northern Oklahoma it nests in scat- tering trees, 12 to 40 feet up, usually in the Jarger forks but some- times in the smaller forks and occasionally on horizontal limbs. Iilms are most commonly chosen, but also black jack oaks and occasionally cottonwoods, hackberries, and soapberries. He says the nests are always lined with green leaves, often with twigs attached; these may come from the nesting tree or another, commonly the sumac (hus glabra).
Albert F. Ganier has sent me excellent photographs of three nests taken near Vicksburg, Miss. (pl. 21). One of these was 80 feet up in a sweetgum tree, “located at the crest of a ridge in a wooded pasture”; it was a well-built nest, containing much Spanish moss; it had been used the previous year and was occupied the following year. Another nest was 60 feet up in a red oak on a ridge in thin woods; this was the “only nest of 18 examined that was built in an
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oak; they usually select the sweetgum because of its dense foliage and the tall erect form of the tree.”
In his excellent article (1902) on this kite he describes the nest- building activities as follows:
On looking up I was surprised to find them soaring high in the air, apparently with nothing more upon their mind than to satisfy their appetites. Suddenly, however, one of them remained stationary for a second, then with half-closed wings came swift as an arrow down through the trees and reappeared above my head with an oak twig in his talons; wheeling, he sailed swiftly upward to a crotch in a gum tree, which showed a bunch of sticks, the beginning of a nest. Only for a moment did he remain; then, dropping over one side of the nest, he sailed upward and rejoined his mate.
For over an hour and a half I lay there and watched them slowly con- structing their nest; both birds worked, darting in among the trees as on the first occasion, and reappearing with either a twig or spray of green leaves. At last, as the midday hour began to cast short shadows, one of the birds perched on the edge of the nest, while its mate lit on the topmost branch of a cottonwood tree some two hundred yards away.
He says that the nests are very difficult to see as the birds “show a great preference for the tip-top branches of gum and cottonwood trees whose dense foliage is almost impenetrable to the eye.” One big cottonwood tree that he felled and measured was over 21% feet in diameter and 131 feet high; the nest in it had been 119 feet above the ground.
Another nest that he examined was “composed of sticks and twigs with a thick lining of locust, gum, thorn and other green leaves”; it measured “25 inches from tip to tip of the longest twigs, while the width of the nest proper was 14 inches, the area covered with green leaves being 6 inches square. The nest as usual was almost flat on top.”
In certain parts of Texas this kite nests in mesquite trees at such extremely low elevations as 4, 5, or 6 feet above the ground, making small nests lined with mesquite leaves. In Louisiana, according to George EK, Beyer (Bendire, 1892), “the nests are placed in the tops of loblolly pines (Pinus taeda) or white oaks (Quercus alba), at a height of from 50 to 60 feet. Pine woods are the favorite localities.”
The highest nests of which I can find any record are reported by Arthur T. Wayne (1910) in South Carolina; one was 111 feet and another 135 feet from the ground in the tops of gigantic short-leaf pines. He says that a pair nested within a mile of his house for ten years and for five years used the same nest. Other observers have noted that these kites often use the same nest for several years in succession. They also often return to their own nest after a lapse of a few years and sometimes appropriate an old crow’s nest. The great variation in the height of the nest indicates that the kites select their nesting site where they can find the best food supply regardless
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of timber conditions, and then build their nest in the highest tree available. If their nest is robbed they will lay a second set, either in the old nest or a new one, about two weeks later.
Eggs.—The Mississippi kite lays only one or two eggs, rarely three, with some variation in different parts of its range. Mr. Ganier tells me that in Mississippi he has found two eggs or two young in only two out of some 13 or more cases; all the other nests contained only one egg or young. Mr. Stevens, referring to Okla- homa, says in his notes, “one occasionally, two usually, and three very rarely”; in some 500 nests examined during seven years, he has found only three sets of three. Of 40 nests under observation by Dr. George M. Sutton, 38 held two eggs and two held one egg each. Most of the sets in collections consist of two eggs, but there are very few sets of three. The eggs vary in shape from ovate to rounded- ovate or nearly oval. The shell is smooth but without gloss when fresh. The color is white or pale bluish white. They are normally unmarked and are often more or less nest stained, and some may appear to be faintly spotted, but such markings are, I believe, wholly adventitious; true pigment markings must be exceedingly rare. The measurements of 50 eggs average 41.3 by 34 millimeters; the eggs showing the four extremes measure 45.7 by 35.2, 44.5 by 36.5, 37.7 by 33.8, and 41 by 31.2 millimeters.
Young.—Dr. George M. Sutton writes to me that “the period of incubation is 81 or 82 days. An egg laid on May 18 hatched June 18. * * * Jn an attitude of repose the young bird rests on the outer part of its feet only. The cry is a thin, feeble squeal, a hair- thin sound.” Both sexes assist in incubation and in the care of the young. Mr. Ganier (1902) writes:
The nest could plainly be seen from several points and I soon made out the form of a young bird on the edge of it, looking out among the trees and occasionally spreading its wings as though impatient to be free.
While still looking, a shadow glided through the trees and an old bird lit on the edge of the nest with something in her beak; slowly the young bird turned around to receive its food and then assumed its old position. The parent bird lingered but a minute, then glided away as silently as she had come.
I sat on a log and watched them for an hour, the parent birds taking turns at feeding the young one, whose restless wings seemed to trouble him much more than his appetite.
Plumages.—l\ have seen no very small young of this kite, but Dr. Sutton describes it for me as follows: “The natal down is pure white, with a small faint spot of buffy brown on the nape and a wash of the same pale brown over the back and upper surface of the wings. The area in front of and about the eyes is dull gray, the marking occupy- ing almost precisely the same position as the black facial marking of the adult. Bill dull blue-gray. Cere dull brownish orange.
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Corners of mouth light orange. Feet pale, clear yellow-orange, with eray claws. Eyes dull gray-brown, with bluish pupils. Eyelids dull gray.” The juvenal plumage appears first on the scapulars, then on the wings and tail, and then on the back and the sides of the breast; the last of the down is seen on the head and belly.
In fresh Juvenal plumage the head is white, streaked with black; the back and wing coverts are sooty black, almost clear black, with narrow edgings of “russet” or buffy white; the scapulars are broadly banded with white; the greater wing coverts, all the rectrices, and all the remiges are jet black, tipped with white, most broadly on the tertials and scapulars and most narrowly on the tail; the under wing coverts are “pale ochraceous-buft” spotted with rusty brown; the tail feathers are deeply notched or barred with white on the inner webs; the under parts are from “cinnamon-bufl” to buffy white, heavily spotted with browns, the breast feathers being centrally “hazel” surrounded by blackish brown and broadly edged with “cinnamon-buff.”
This plumage, with considerable fading of the browns and buffs, is worn only through the summer and fall. During the first winter and spring progress is made toward maturity by a gradual molt of the contour plumage; but considerable white still shows on the under parts owing to basally white breast feathers, the white increasing on the belly and under tail coverts. One-year-old birds in May, July, and August still retain the juvenal wings and tail and show the last of the first winter plumage on the under parts. Apparently the adult plumage is assumed at this first postnuptial molt, which is com- plete and much prolonged; I believe that the wings and tail are not molted until after the birds go south. Mr. Stevens has seen birds breeding in this immature plumage. Adults probably have a similar, prolonged, annual molt.
Food.—Mr. Stevens says in his notes that these kites feed on the wing, snatching locusts from plants and seizing cicadas in flight. A flock of from 3 to 20 will sail about a person, a horseman, or a team, traveling through grassy flats and bushy places, and seize the cicadas as they are scared up. The insect is grasped in the claws and eaten in the air. Usually only the abdomen of the cicada is eaten and the remainder is dropped; the wings and legs of locusts are often picked off and the remainder swallowed. He has found the remains of toads, mice, and young rabbits in the nests with young.
Audubon (1840) graphically describes its feeding as follows:
He glances towards the earth with his fiery eye; sweeps along, now with the gentle breeze, now against it; seizes here and there the high-flying giddy bug, and allays his hunger without fatigue to wing or talon. Suddenly he sples some creeping thing, that changes, like the cameleon from vivid green
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to dull brown, to escape his notice. It is the red-throated panting lizard that has made its way to the highest branch of a tree in quest of food. Casting upwards a sidelong look of fear, it remains motionless, so well does it know the prowess of the bird of prey; but its caution is vain; it has been perceived, its fate is sealed, and the next moment it is swept away.
All writers seem to agree that the Mississippi kite feeds almost exclusively on the larger insects, such as cicadas, locusts, grass- hoppers, crickets, katydids, dragonflies, and large beetles, but small snakes, lizards, and frogs are sometimes taken. Birds apparently are never molested, and small birds show no fear of it.
Behavior—Audubon (1840) writes:
Its flight is graceful, vigorous, protracted, and often extended to a great height, the Fork-tailed Hawk being the only species that can compete with it. At times it floats in the air as if motionless, or sails in broad regular circles, when, suddenly closing its wings, it slides along to some distance, and renews its curves. Now it sweeps in deep and long undulations, with the swiftness of an arrow, passing almost within touching distance of a branch on which it has observed a small lizard, or an insect it