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 PIGEON-HAWK.[4]

Falco columbarius.
Falco columbarius, Linn.—Wils.
Falco temerarius, Aud. pl. 75.

[4] Length 12 inches, expanse 25, tail 4⁴⁄₁₀, flexure 7⁴⁄₁₀, rictus ⁸⁄₁₀,
tarsus 1⁶⁄₁₀, middle toe 1, claw ½, closed wings 1½ inch short of the tip
of the tail.

Though of small size, this bird is not lacking in spirit and courage,
often striking at prey nearly as large as itself. It hovers about the
savannas, frequently flying very near the grass or bushes, but it
seems to have favourite resorts. In the guinea-grass piece of Mount
Edgecumbe, which stretches along the sea-shore from Belmont to
Crab-pond, there are several hoary cotton-trees, (Ceiba eriodendron)
of giant size, around which I have rarely failed to see more than one
of these little Hawks. From one to another of these they sail on
graceful wing, usually alighting on a prominent branch, near the
summit. One which I shot from such a station, manifested no alarm
at being aimed at, but peeped down as if its curiosity were excited.
The smaller pigeons form the principal prey of this species; but
sometimes it appears to be unequal to the conquest of its quarry. My
lad observed a Hawk, one day, chasing a Pea-dove, which at length
took refuge in a low bush, but was followed by the Hawk; the
shaking of the bush showed that a struggle was going on, which
seems to have terminated in favour of the gentle Dove, for presently
both emerged, the Dove flew off, and the Hawk alighted on a tree
close by; this same individual, being shot and wounded, fought
bravely with both beak and feet, drawing blood from the hands of its
slayer.
The Anis are acquainted with his prowess, and indicate their fear
by loud cries of warning to their fellows, huddling away to the
nearest bush. The Petchary and Loggerhead Tyrants are often
pursued by him, but often escape; for it is remarkable, that if his
swoop is ineffectual, he does not repeat it, but flies off. I have seen
one descend upon a flock of Tinkling Grakles, causing the whole
body to curve downward in their flight, and alight on a neighbouring
tree. But it is said to feed, in lack of better prey, upon beetles and
dragonflies.
This species, which is a summer visitant of the United States, is a
permanent resident in Jamaica; but I know nothing of its nest.

In addition to the Falconidæ already mentioned, the following

species have occurred in Jamaica to the observation of Mr. Hill:—
The Eagle-hawk (Morphnus urubitinga.—Cuv.)
The Fish Hawk (Pandion Carolinensis.—Bon.)
The Fork-tailed Kite (Nauclerus furcatus.—Vig.)

Fam.—STRIGIDÆ. (The Owls.)

DUSKY EARED-OWL.[5]

Ephialtes grammicus.—Mihi.
[5] Length 14 inches, expanse 31, tail 4⁶⁄₁₀, flexure 9¼, rictus 1⁴⁄₁₀,
tarsus 2, middle toe 1¹⁄₁₀, claw ⁷⁄₁₀.
Irides hazel; pupils very large, blue; beak pale blue-grey; feet dull lead
colour; claws horny grey; cere blackish-grey. General plumage above
dusky brown, becoming on the head and under parts, umber: each
feather marked with a medial band of blackish hue, and several
undulated transverse bars of the same. Egrets of about ten feathers,
forming conical horns about 1 inch high, giving the countenance a great
resemblance to that of a cat. Facial feathers unwebbed, pale umber;
those of inner angle of eye, setaceous, black; operculum edged with
black; scaly, sub-aural feathers pale fawn-colour, with arrowy centres of
black; the outermost rows also mottled with black at the tip; these
feathers meet under the chin in a ruff. Feathers of back, rump, tail,
scapulars, and wing-coverts, minutely pencilled with blackish; shoulders
deepening into almost black; primary greater coverts very dark. Quills
 and tail pale brown, with broad transverse bars, and minute pencillings of
black, confused on the tertials. Wings short, rounded, hollow; third,
fourth, fifth, sixth quills subequal. Breast bright umber, with transverse
wavy mottlings, and a dash of dark brown down each feather. Belly,
thighs, and vent, plain fawn-colour; the feathers downy, filamentous.
Under wing-coverts yellowish-brown, a little mottled, the greater broadly
tipped with black. Quills beneath, basal half pale-yellowish, apical half
nearly as above. Whole tarsus feathered.
Intestinal canal 17 inches long; 2 cœca, distant 2 inches from the
cloaca, 2½ inches long, slender at their base, dilating into sacs, thin, and
full of dark liquid.

I have not been able to find any published description of this well-
marked Owl. In the MSS. of Dr. Robinson,[6] however, there is a very
elaborate description of the species, drawn up from an adult male,
but agreeing with mine, which is from a female; save that he applies
the term cinnamon, to the parts which I designate as umber. Three
individuals, all females, have at separate times come into my hands,
two of which were immature, as manifested by the downiness of the
plumage. One of these was brought me on the 31st of March by a
man who obtained it on Bluefields Mountain. He was engaged in
felling a tree, in which the bird was; being disturbed it flew to
another at a short distance, when it was struck down with a stick.
The time was about noon. The person informed me that he had seen
the bird there before, in company with another, which he supposed
to be its mate. The stomach of this specimen, a large muscular sac,
was filled with an immense quantity of slender bones, which
appeared to be those of Anoles, as I discovered by the iguaniform
teeth of at least five sets of jaws, of various sizes. They were
enveloped in a quantity of fetid, black fluid. There were also the
remains of beetles, and of orthopterous insects.
[6] Dr. Anthony Robinson, a surgeon practising in Jamaica about the
middle of the last century, accumulated a very large mass of valuable
information on the Zoology and Botany of the island, which is contained
in five folio MS. volumes, in the possession of the Jamaica Society at
Kingston. The specific descriptions, admeasurements, and details of
colouring are executed with an elaborate accuracy worthy of a period of
science far advanced of that in which he lived. Accompanying the MSS.
 are several volumes of carefully executed drawings, mostly coloured. To
these volumes I have been indebted, as the reader will find, for many
valuable notes, which I thus acknowledge with gratitude.

Of another, the adult from which my description was taken, struck

down while sitting on a mango tree at Tait-Shafton, on the morning
of April 6th,—the stomach was stuffed with the hair and bones of a
portion of a rat, and the legs of a large spider; a Lycosa, as I believe
—certainly a ground spider. Most of the eggs in the ovary were
minute, though some were as large as mustard-seed; by which I
gathered that the period of incubation was yet distant, though the
spring was so far advanced.
The third I had the advantage of seeing alive: one whose
downiness indicated youth, was brought me on the 24th of the same
month. Its imbecility by day was shewn by the mode of its capture.
It was in a small tree on Bluefields Mountain, when a boy, by
shaking the tree, caused it to fall to the ground, where it lay
helpless. It was cross all the time I had it, snapping the beak loudly,
and striking out as endeavouring to seize the hand; uttering now
and then a shrill wail, most plaintive to hear. The globular head, and
round full eyes, over which the nictitating membrane was constantly
being drawn, gave the living bird an odd appearance. On dissecting
it I found in the stomach remains of mice and elytra of small beetles.
From these instances we can pretty well infer the food of the
present species to consist largely of shelled insects, as well as lizards
and small mammalia. For a while I knew not what to make of a
statement of Robinson’s, that in his male he found “nothing but
some particles of maize;” as also that in another, with “the remains
of scarabs,” there was “some guinea-corn, and maize.” But I am
informed that this Owl is known to enter dove-cotes, and devour the
young pigeons; the grain, therefore, in these specimens was
probably in the stomachs of their prey, and remained in the Owls
after the prey had been dissolved, because the stomach of a
rapacious bird refuses to digest vegetable food. It would probably
have been cast up, if the birds had survived.
 I know not whether this is the species that Mr. Hill means when he
says, in “Notes of a Year,” published in the Companion to the
Jamaica Almanack, for 1840,—“After sunset [in evenings in August]
the Brown Owl, seated on the dead limb of a tree in some savanna,
makes little circuits of about thirty feet diameter, and returns to
perch again. I should judge that it is darting at Coleopterous insects,
occasional fire-flies being seen wandering at about ten or a dozen
feet above the highest elevation at which the Owls are flying.”
The flesh of this species is soft and flabby in texture, and pale in
colour.

SCREECH OWL.[7]

Strix pratincola.
Strix flammea, Wilson.
Strix pratincola, Bonap.
Strix Americana, Aud. pl. 171.

[7] Length 17 inches, expanse 46, tail 5¾, flexure 13½, rictus 2, tarsus
3¼, middle toe 1³⁄₈, claw 1.

Though Wilson has introduced this bird into his American

Ornithology, and described it apparently from native specimens, his
very meagre notes of its manners are those of its European
representative, the bird being very rare in the United States. In
Jamaica it is not at all uncommon, though little seen by day. I have
been accustomed to see one nearly every evening, emerge from
some lofty woods on a hill just above Bluefields, soon after sunset,
and fly heavily over the pasture and house, uttering a querulous cry,
kep, kep, kep, in a sharp tone, without intermission. Sometimes it
was followed by another, and both would betake themselves to a
large cotton-tree at the border of the opposite woods, where they
would alight on the topmost boughs, and after sitting quiet awhile,
resume their flight and their cry together. At other times, one or two
are heard, and dimly seen by the light of the moon, slowly flying
over the pasture in a large circle. Its motion is noiseless in itself, but
almost always accompanied by this monotonous cry; it usually flies
high, but remarkably slowly. I had been informed that it sometimes
screams shrilly when flying, but this I had not heard, until I had
been familiar with the bird in this way, for more than a year. But one
night as I lay awake at Content, in St. Elizabeth’s, I heard a harsh
screech twice repeated, which I at once suspected to be the voice of
the White Owl, and presently this was confirmed by the kep, kep, of
one which was evidently flying round the house, and continued for
some time within hearing. And one evening, about three months
afterwards, just as the west horizon had faded from its glowing gold
to a dull ruddy hue, I heard a Screech Owl flying from the hill as
usual over the pasture; when it was overhead, but at a height of
perhaps three hundred feet, it suddenly intermitted the kep, kep, by
a loud scream; then kep, kep again, and soon another scream, and
by and by another, as it slowly flew along.
This Owl does not seem to affect the deep forests, although it
haunts shady places in the vicinity of estates and open grounds,
doubtless because in such places its prey abounds. Among these
groves it is sometimes seen flitting on soft and silent wing during the
day, when it does not usually cry. About the middle of October,
passing through the extensive and beautiful Pen, called Mount
Edgecumbe, where the smooth-barked pimento trees grow from the
grassy sward, as in a park, my attention was called to a large space
walled in, which my negro lad, Sam, told me was a “Spanish hole.”
Curiosity led me to examine it. On getting over the wall, which was
only a fence of dry stones, to protect the cattle from falling in, I
found myself in an area of about eighty feet in diameter, in the
centre of which yawned a vast pit nearly circular in form, about forty
feet wide, and as many in depth. The edge overhung in every part,
consisting of sharp limestone rock, so that there seemed at first no
means of getting down. Some trees, however, were growing from
the bottom, a few being of large size, and all of great height and
smoothness, almost wholly of one kind, the bread-nut (Brosimum
alicastrum). On carefully searching round, we found a slender tree
growing so close to the edge as to afford a ready means of sliding
down by, but so smooth that Sam was very reluctant to essay it,
doubting his power to climb up again. It was with a hope of finding
it the resort of owls or bats, that I had determined to examine it,
and while we were discussing the possibility of reascending, a large
White Owl suddenly flew up, and after flitting round once or twice,
sailed away towards the woods. While I was peering into the remote
corners, I discerned on a huge flat rock beneath the cavernous
sides, what seemed a young bird, snow-white, and of large size,
together with several eggs. This made me more urgent on my lad,
and after much persuasion, and the promise to procure ropes, and
assistance without delay, in case of need, he at length sprang off,
and slid down the tree. By means of a long and tough smilax, which
I afterwards used to measure the depth, I passed down to him in
succession the gun and the basket; and he proceeded to explore the
dungeon. It was evidently formed by nature; for from the
overhanging sides depended stalactites of various sizes and forms, in
points and festoons, some of the smallest of which he broke off;
they were of a rough dead-white surface, but the fracture displayed
shining crystals. In one corner were two or three holes of less than a
foot in diameter, into one of which he thrust a stick several yards
long; it met no bottom, and on being let go, instantly slid out of
sight. In another corner lay some immense masses of stone, so
large, as to leave a comparatively small space beneath the rocky
roof. On one of these lay the object of the enterprise. The lad having
clambered up the rocks, was saluted on his approach by a loud
hissing from one of the ugliest creatures he had ever beheld; so that
he hesitated to touch it. I encouraged him, however; for from the
top I could witness all that took place; and he at length opened the
basket, and with a stick tumbled the young bird in. Not the least
vestige of a nest, nor of any apology for one, was there; but the bird
had reposed on a broad mass of half-digested hair, mingled
profusely with the bones of rats and birds; half of a rat lay there,
freshly killed, the fore parts being devoured. At a little distance from
the bird lay, on the same mass, three eggs, in no wise to be
distinguished from those of a hen, in form, size, or colour, save that
they were scarcely equal to the average size of hen’s eggs. I may
add that, on emptying them afterwards, I found them to contain
only a fluid apparently homogeneous, glairy, but turbid, like very thin
paste. They were not collected for sitting, neither being within six
inches of another. No sooner had Sam descended, than the old Owl
again appeared; but, after flying round the mouth of the pit, and
settling for an instant on one of the trees, she flew off again; and
though, when we had secured the young and eggs, we waited long
in expectation of her return, she came no more while we remained.
Having passed up the things by the brier, the lad shinned up the tree
without much difficulty, and we proceeded home with our young
charge. On taking him out, I found him a strange figure indeed: the
head long, and sparingly clothed with down; the curved beak, with
its flesh-coloured cere; the immense orbits of the eyes marked by a
white ring of small down, and the top and back of the head, and all
the body besides, thickly clothed with white down of exquisite
softness, strongly reminding me of a hair-dresser’s powder-puff. The
tips of the wings displayed the budding quills, but they bore the
singular appearance of flesh-coloured tubes, crowned with a
divergent tuft of down. The hinder parts were, as usual in young
birds, large and protuberant, and there was not a vestige of a tail as
yet. The feet and legs were well developed, and the bird sometimes
stood up on them, but more usually rested on the whole sole, in an
upright, but most grotesque attitude. The clothing down was of the
purest white, except that in a few parts, as the back of the head and
neck, the shoulders, and the elbow of the wing, it was slightly tinged
with a delicate buff, hardly discernible. He was a very cross fellow,
biting spitefully at everything presented to him, and sometimes at
the boards around him, without any provocation; but the beak,
though sharp and hooked, was not moved by sufficient muscular
power to hurt the hand. He was almost constantly hissing;
particularly, but not only, when approached, giving out a sound, that
for character, and really almost for volume, may be likened to that
produced by the rushing forth of steam from the waste-pipe of an
engine. While I was bringing him home, he discharged from the
stomach a hard and very dry pellet, an inch in diameter, and about
three in length, composed of rats’ hair and bones, showing that he
was habitually fed with prey as taken, perhaps simply divided, and
not with half-digested matter from the stomach of the mother. I
found, however, that though it would bite at any object, it had no
notion of eating; a bit of flesh seized in the beak being invariably
dropped in a second or two. I therefore crammed it, giving it
portions of the bodies of small birds and lizards, forcing them into its
throat; an operation the less difficult, as the gullet is enormous. The
portions remained in the fauces for a few moments, and were then
swallowed. When standing up, or sitting, gazing with apparent
curiosity at any person near, it was perpetually swaying deliberately
from side to side; sometimes it lost its balance and fell over. The
irides were black, but the pupils pale blue. It lay down to sleep,
resting the side of its head on the floor.
In the course of a few days it began to seize food when presented
to it, which it swallowed eagerly; and I was astonished to see how
large morsels it would swallow, such as the undivided body of a
large Noctilio, which it could hardly receive into its mouth. The
coloured feathers now began to protrude from the lengthening quill-
tubes, and I perceived that the tuft of down was slightly attached to
the point of the feather, and was deciduous; or rather, that it
consisted of very fine and loosely barbed prolongations of the
ordinary beards of the vane, very closely resembling in texture the
barbs of an ostrich-plume. When it became a little stronger, so that it
could support itself a moment on one foot, it began to manifest a
singular habit in eating. Almost invariably, henceforth, as soon as it
had snatched a piece of flesh, which it did ravenously, it chewed it a
moment with the tips of the mandibles; this had the effect of
pressing out the morsel on each side so that it protruded. One foot
was then brought up under the chin, and thrown forward with a
clutching motion, two toes being on each side the beak; this was
awkwardly performed, being repeated several times before the
morsel was grasped; and the bird often stumbled about on the other
foot, or nearly fell over. When the foot had clutched the flesh, it was
held in the toes, until the beak could seize it in a more favourable
position for swallowing. Then, by repeated tossings of the head, the
morsel was thrown, as it were, little by little into the fauces. All the
while it was eating, even when the throat seemed quite closed by
the descending food, the whistling hiss was maintained with
incessant pertinacity. Indeed, this sound, harsh and deafening as it
was, scarcely ever ceased, except when the bird was sleeping. It
was exceedingly vigilant; the smallest sound, even a light foot-fall,
would arouse it, and awaken this most unmusical noise. It was more
than usually loud when the bird was hungry, and doubly so at the
moment when food was presented to it, as, in its ravenous
eagerness to seize, it frequently missed from its hurried motion.
Sometimes, when its belly was full, it substituted a quivering whistle,
in a very high key, emitted, I believe, through the nostrils. The
fæces were very fluid, and resembled a thin solution of lime; they
left a chalky deposit, pulverulent: and were not at all fœtid. It
seemed to have no desire for drinking. On the 1st of November it
died, having been in my care about a fortnight.
Soon after this, my lad Sam being again near the Spanish-hole,
looked in, and discerned the old Owl sitting on the same spot, and
on the 12th, I again visited it. On peeping cautiously over the wall, I
discerned her on the rock, and fired; but merely wounding her, she
retreated into one of the cavities, so that Sam, on descending, could
not find her. There were four eggs, which were placed close
together, but in no nest. Another Owl, doubtless the mate, flew at
the report of the gun from somewhere near the margin, opposite to
the female’s side: but though we made considerable noise in
entering the area, and in talking, the boy in descending discovered
him perched still near the margin of the cavern. At length, however,
he flew off. As the sitting bird had concealed herself, and could not
be found, I determined to leave the eggs untouched, presuming she
would soon return to them. In the course of half-an-hour I returned,
and had the satisfaction of seeing her again on the eggs: I fired, and
this time not vainly. In her fall she crushed one of the eggs, which
had evidently been in contact with the skin of her abdomen, that
part being wholly denuded of feathers. The remaining eggs were
advanced towards hatching in very different degrees, and one was
found on dissection in the oviduct of the bird, completely shelled,
and ready for deposition. The yolk of this was small in quantity, and
of a pale yellow tint. Other eggs in the ovary were from the size of
large shot downward.
About the middle of October, my notice was drawn to some Owls,
which were said to make nightly visits to a certain tree in a provision
ground at Belmont. I visited the spot the next evening, after sunset;
it was a large cotton-tree, with a spur more than usually immense
and uncouth. The rounded top of this spur was the scene of the
Owls’ gambols: as I approached, I heard them uttering the same
harsh sound, half hiss, half scream, that had characterized the
young one. As it was nearly dark, their white forms were indistinct,
and before I could get within range, they, whose senses were now
vigilant and acute, perceived me, and flew to a neighbouring tree,
whence they presently removed to a distance. On the following
evening I took care to be on the watch soon after sunset: presently I
heard the well-known cry kep, kep; and the bird, arriving on
noiseless wing, took up its station on one of the lofty limbs of the
cotton tree. It called in this manner for a minute or two, when the
other came flying from another direction, uttering the same sound,
and likewise alighted on a limb not far from the former. As it was
growing dark, and I was anxious to procure specimens, I fired at
one, and brought it down with the wing wounded. It retreated into
one of the dark recesses of the spurs, and fought bravely before I
could get hold of it, snapping the beak, and trying to bite. When
brought to the house, its attitudes and motions were exactly the
same as those of the young above described: it would stand for
hours on the same spot, gazing intently with its large liquid eyes, at
any one before it: swaying slowly from side to side, with the head
depressed and protruded, as if to get a better view of the object of
its attention. If approached, it opened and snapped the beak; but if
pressed, it fell backward on the tail, presenting both feet to clutch:
which it did with effect.
 Mr. Hill mentions to me a third species of Owl, small in size, and of
a brown hue, but I know not any of its generic or specific characters.

Order.—PASSERES. (Perchers.)
Fam.—CAPRIMULGIDÆ.—(The Nightjars.)
NIGHT-HAWK.[8]

(Piramidig.—Musquito-hawk.)

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

[8] Length 8½ inches, expanse 20, tail 4, flexure 7¹⁄₁₀, rictus ¹¹⁄₁₂,
tarsus ⁷⁄₁₀, middle toe ⁷⁄₁₀.

These birds are doubtless migratory, for we see nothing of them

from September to April. They probably winter with the Grey
Petchary and the Red-eyed Vireo, in Central America, as they appear
with those species about the beginning of April. We can scarcely fail
to recognise the period of their arrival; for their manners and voice
are so singular, that they force themselves upon our attention. About
an hour before the sun sets, we hear a loud, abrupt, and rapid
repetition of four or five syllables in the air above our heads,
resembling the sounds, piramidig, or gi’ me a bit, or perhaps still
more, witta-wittawit. On looking up we see some two or three birds,
exceedingly like swallows in figure and flight, but considerably larger,
with a conspicuous white spot on each wing. They winnow, however,
rather more than swallows, and more frequently depress one or the
other side; and the body and tail behind the wings is rather longer.
Their general appearance, their sudden quick doublings, their
rushing, careering flight, and their long, narrow, arcuated wings, are
so like those of swallows, that after being familiar with them, I have
often been unable to determine at the first glance, whether a
particular bird were a caprimulgus or a swallow. Like them the
Piramidig is pursuing flying insects; and though the prey, from its
great height, and probably its minute size, is invisible from the earth,
we may very often observe that it is captured, by a sudden arresting
of the career, and by the swift zigzag dodgings, or almost stationary
flutterings, that ensue. I do not think the prey is ordinarily larger
than minute diptera, hymenoptera, and coleoptera; for I have not
been able to detect anything flying where these birds were hawking,
even when their flight was sufficiently low to allow of insects as
large as a bee being distinctly seen. “Mosquito hawk,” is one of the
appellations familiarly given to the bird, and doubtless not without
ground. I am confirmed in this supposition, by the fact that
swallows, whose prey is known to be minute, are usually hawking in
the same region of the air, and in company with the Piramidigs. By
the term “company,” however, I must not be understood as implying
anything like association, which does not seem to exist even
between these birds themselves; they are usually solitary, except
inasmuch as several, hawking over the same circumscribed region,
must often come into close proximity; but this seems, in general,
neither sought nor avoided; each swoops on its own course,
regardless of his momentary neighbour. Yet the tender passion sets
aside even the most recluse solitariness in any animal; and to this I
attribute it that now and then I have seen one Piramidig following
another in close and pertinacious pursuit, ever and anon uttering its
singular cry, and evidently desiring to come into contact with, but
not to strike or hurt its coy companion. I would not assert from
hence that the nuptials of this species are performed upon the wing,
because the premises are too slight to decide so important a fact;
but it is known that it is so with the European Swift, a bird whose
manners greatly resemble those of our Night-hawk.
It is when the afternoon rains of the season have descended
plentifully, that these birds are most numerous, and most vociferous;
and they continue to fly till the twilight is beginning to fade into
darkness. After this, they appear for the most part to retire, and the
strange and startling voices, that before were sounding all around
and above us, are rarely heard by the most attentive listening. A lad
informed me that when out fishing during the night, not far from the
shore, the canoe is often surrounded by bats, which make a great
noise. But my assistant, Sam, who heard the statement, assured me
that these were not bats, but Piramidigs, (with some bats, however,
in the company), and that these birds, when the moon is at or near
the full, continue on the wing through the night.[9] On dark rainy
days, such as we get sometimes in May, I have seen and heard two
or three abroad even in the middle of the day, careering just as at
nightfall.
[9] I may be permitted here to record a tribute of affection to this faithful
servant, Samuel Campbell, whose name may often appear in this work. A
negro lad of about eighteen, with only the rudiments of education, he
soon approved himself a most useful assistant by his faithfulness, his tact
in learning, and then his skill in practising, the art of preparing natural
subjects, his patience in pursuing animals, his powers of observation of
facts, and the truthfulness with which he reported them, as well as by
the accuracy of his memory with respect to species. Often and often,
when a thing has appeared to me new, I have appealed to Sam, who on
a moment’s examination would reply, “No, we took this in such a place,
or on such a day,” and I invariably found on my return home that his
memory was correct. I never knew him in the slightest degree attempt to
embellish a fact, or report more than he had actually seen. He remained
with me all the time I was in the island, and was of great service to me.
Many of the subjects of this work were obtained by him, when I was not
myself with him, and some which I believe to be unique.

Early in the morning, before the grey dawn has peeped over the
mountain, I have heard over the pastures of Pinnock Shafton, great
numbers of these birds evidently flying low, and hawking to and fro.
Their cries were uttered in rapid succession, and resounded from all
parts of the air, though it was too dark to distinguish even such as
were apparently in near proximity. Now and again, the hollow
booming sound, like blowing into the bung-hole of a barrel,
produced at the moment of perpendicular descent, as described by
Wilson, fell on my ear.
The articulations or syllables, if I may so say, which make up the
note, are usually four, but sometimes five, or six, uttered as rapidly
as they can be pronounced, and all in the same tone. The Chuck-
will’s-widow and the Whip-poor-will of the northern continent derive
these names from a rapid emission of certain sounds not very
dissimilar to those of the bird under consideration. The cry is uttered
at considerable intervals, but without anything like a regular
recurrence or periodicity.
Whither the Piramidig retires after its twilight evolutions are
performed, or where it dwells by day, I have little evidence. The first
individual that fell into my hands, however, was under the following
circumstances. One day in the beginning of September, about noon,
being with the lads shooting in Crab-pond morass, Sam called my
attention to an object on the horizontal bough of a mangrove-tree,
which he could not at all make out. I looked long at it, also, in
various aspects, and at length concluded that it was a sluggish
reptile. It was lying lengthwise on the limb, close down, the head
also being laid close on the branch, the eyes wide open, and thus it
remained immovable, though three of us were talking and pointing
towards it, and walking to and fro under it, within a few yards. The
form, in this singular posture, presented not the least likeness to
that of a bird. At length I fired at it, and it fell, a veritable Night-
hawk! The reason of its seeking safety by lying close, rather than by
flight, was probably the imperfection of its sight in the glare of day,
from the enormous size of its pupils: but the artifice showed a
considerable degree of cunning.
An intelligent person has stated to me that early in the morning,
where a perpendicular face of rock about twenty feet high rises from
the hilly pastures of Mount Edgecumbe, he has seen these birds
leave what seemed to be nests, built in the manner of some
swallows, on the side of the rock, near the top. But I strongly
suspect he is mistaken in the identity of the bird. One day, at the
end of July, as I and Sam were following Baldpate Pigeons on some
very stony pasture at Pinnock Shafton, much shaded with pimento
and cedar-trees, we roused a bird of this family, and, I think, of this
species, which started from the ground near our feet, and fluttered
in an odd manner, inviting our attention. I was aware of her object
and began to search carefully among the loose stones for a young
bird, or an egg, but could discover neither, though I have no doubt
either the one or the other was not far off. I have been told that it
habitually chooses for its place of laying, the centre of a spot where
a heap has been burned off in clearing new ground; perhaps on
account of its dryness.
In some “Notes of a Year,” published in the Companion to the
Jamaica Almanack, Mr. Hill had used the term, “triangular,” in
connexion with the flight of this bird. In reply to a question of mine,
on the subject, he thus writes: “I send you a diagram of the flittings
about of the Goatsucker. It illustrates my allusion to the triangular
flight of the bird. This peculiar cutting of triangles struck my
attention, when I was watching the morning flight of some three or
four Goatsuckers, just at day-dawn, while I strolled through the
pastures of a pen in St. Andrew’s, where I was visiting. The morning
twilight had spread a clear glassy gloom over the whole cloudless
expanse around and above me; and as no direct ray shone on the
woods and fields, which lay silent and sombre beneath,—the flitting
birds were seen distinctly, like dark moving spots against the grey
sky. I was struck with the sudden shifts by triangles which they were
seen to make. They never moved very far from one to another
direction, but darted backward and forward over a space of some
five hundred yards, preserving a pretty constant horizontal traverse,
over some trees in a near pasture, whose honeyed fragrance on the
morning air told that they were in blossom. Occasionally only, they
rose and sank so as suddenly to change their elevation above the
clumps of foliage. Yarrell observes that Goatsuckers are remarkable
for beating over very circumscribed spaces; but I have not found any
one who notices their cutting in and out by triangular shifts. It is not
so perceptible in the obscurity of the evening, but in the
perspicuousness of day-dawn it is plainly visible; and I made a note
of it, and dotted in the angular appearance at the time.”
In some parts of Jamaica this bird bears the appellation, most
absurdly misapplied, of “Turtle-dove:” it is occasionally shot for the
table, being usually fat and plump. It is a very beautiful bird. The
stomach, protuberant below the sternum, is a large globular sac; the
other viscera are small. Of one which I dissected, shot in its evening
career, the stomach was stuffed with an amazing number of insects,
almost (if not quite) wholly consisting of small beetles of the genus
Bostrichus: there were probably not fewer than two hundred of
these beetles, all of one species, about a quarter of an inch long.
The primaries, which are long and narrow, have a peculiar downy
surface, like the nap of cloth, extending down the inner vanes, and
covering the outer two-thirds of their breadth; this is visible only on
the upper surface. It does not exist in our Nyctibius.
There is in my possession, presented to me by Mr. Hill with many
other interesting objects, an egg of much beauty, which, when
brought to him, was reported to be that of a Caprimulgus. It
certainly belongs to this family, but not, as I think, to this species,
judging from Wilson’s description. Its dimensions are 1²⁄₁₀ inch, by
⁸⁄₁₀, of a very regular oval, polished, and delicately and minutely
marbled with white, pale blue grey, and faint olive.

POTOO.[10]

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

[10] Length 16 inches, expanse 33½, tail 7¾, flexure 11¼, rictus 2½,
breadth of beak at base measured within 2²⁄₁₀, tarsus ³⁄₁₀, middle toe
1³⁄₁₀.
Irides hazel, orange-coloured, or brilliant straw-yellow; feet whitish,
scurfy; beak black. Interior of mouth violet, passing into flesh-colour.
Plumage mottled with black, brown, grey, and white; the white prevailing
on the tertiaries, tertiary-coverts, and scapulars, the black upon the
primaries and their coverts; the tail-feathers barred transversely with
black on a grey ground, which is so mottled as to bear a striking
 resemblance to the soft pencilling of many Sphingidæ; tail broad, very
slightly rounded. The feathers of the head lax, and fur-like. Inner surface
of the wings black, spotted with white. A streak of black runs on each
side the throat, nearly parallel with and close to the gape; a bay tint
prevails on the breast; and some of the feathers there have broad
terminal spots of black, which are arranged in somewhat of a crescent-
form, having irregular spots above it. Under parts pale grey unmottled.
Every feather of the whole plumage is marked with a black stripe down
the centre. Tongue sagittiform, wide at the horns, slender towards the
tip, fleshy; reverted barbs along the edges. The volume of brain
excessively small. Intestine 10½ inches; two cæca 1½ in. long, dilated at
the ends.

Both the Whip-poor-will and the Chuck-will’s-widow have been

assigned to Jamaica; neither of these vociferous and unmistakable
birds, however, have fallen under my observation there. It is not
improbable that the present bird has been mistaken by careless
observers for the Chuck-will’s-widow, though comparatively a silent
species.
The Potoo is not unfrequently seen in the evening, taking its
station soon after sunset on some dead tree or fence-post, or
floating by on noiseless wing, like an owl, which the common people
suppose it to be. Its plumage has the soft puffy, unwebbed character
which marks that of the owls, and which prevents the impact of its
wings upon the air from being audible, notwithstanding the power
and length of those organs. Now and then it is seen by day; but it is
half concealed in the bushy foliage of some thick tree, which it can
with difficulty be induced to quit, distrustful of its powers by day. As
it sits in the fading twilight it ever and anon utters a loud and hoarse
ho-hoo, and sometimes the same syllables are heard, in a much
lower tone, as if proceeding from the depth of the throat.
The first specimen that fell under my observation was shot in
October. On several evenings in succession a large bird had been
observed sitting on a particular post near Bluefields Tavern, where it
remained undisturbed by passers looking at it, though it was not half
a stone’s cast from the road-side. At length Sam shot at it, and blew
out many feathers, but it flew slowly off to the woods; uttering, the
instant after it was shot, a low croaking. The next evening he
watched again, and about sunset the bird returned to the same post,
when he secured it. It is interesting to observe the similarity in habit
to the Flycatchers in selecting a prominent station, and returning
again and again to it, even after such annoyance. It was one out of
many posts of a rail-fence, yet the bird uniformly chose the same.
Another was given me a few weeks afterwards, which had been
struck down with a stone, as it was sitting on a tree in the yard
around a negro’s house. It had been in the habit of stationing itself
there every evening, and its cries, which were described to me as
resembling the mewing of a cat in pain, were so plaintive, that they
seem to have acted on the good woman’s superstition, who begged
her husband to kill it. I incline to think, however, that the voice here
mentioned was not that of the Potoo, but of an Eared Owl which
may have been near it, but in the darkness unobserved. This
specimen lived a day or two in the house, after it was knocked
down, and when it died it was brought to me. I found its stomach, a
muscular gizzard, distended with large beetles, (Megasoma titanus,)
disjointed. That of the former contained two specimens of a black
Phanæus.
Another, a male, shot in the day time, in February, had the
stomach hard stuffed with fragments of insects, which, on being
dispersed in water, I found to consist wholly of beetles, among which
limbs of lamellicorns were conspicuous, probably Phanæus. In this
case the stomach was more membranous; the œsophagus very wide
and substantial as in the Owls, but there was no dilatation or
proventriculus.
About the same time a living and uninjured specimen was given
me, taken in a wooded morass. This I kept some days. It would sit
anywhere that it was placed, across the finger, or across a stick;
never lengthwise, though I repeatedly tried it so. Its position in
sitting was quite perpendicular, (that is, from head to tail,) the
plumage a little puffed out, the head drawn in, the eyes usually shut.
When pushed, however, it lengthened the neck to retain its balance,
and opened its eyes, which being so large, and the irides of a
brilliant yellow, combined with the wide gape to give it a most
singular physiognomy. Usually it seemed absolutely blind by day, for
when the eyes were wide open, the approach of any object within a
line of the pupil, and the moving of it to and fro, produced, in
general, not the slightest effect. Once or twice, however, I observed
that when the pupil was greatly dilated, as it always was when the
lids were first unclosed, the sudden motion of my hand towards the
eye, caused the pupil to contract with singular rapidity to less than
one fourth of its former dimensions. Afterwards by candle-light, I
observed the extraordinary rapidity and extent of this contractility
more fully. When the candle was little more than a yard distant, the
pupil was dilated to about ³⁄₄ths of an inch diameter, occupying the
whole visible area of the eye, the iris being reduced to an
imperceptible line; on bringing the candle close to the pupil, it
contracted to a diameter of two lines, and that completely within the
period required to convey the candle by the most rapid action of my
hand practicable.
As night approached I expected that it would become animated;
but it did not stir, nor shew any sign of vivacity, though I watched it
till it was quite dark. Several times in the evening I went into the
room, up to ten o’clock, but it was where I had left it. About three in
the morning I had occasion to go in again with a candle; the Potoo
had not altered his position, and when the day came, there he was
unmoved, nor do I believe he had stirred during the whole night.
Thus he remained during the next day; I put his beak into water,
and let fall drops upon it, but he refused to drink: I then caught
beetles (Tenebrionidæ) and cockroaches, but he took no notice of
them; and though I repeatedly opened his beak and put the insects
into his broad and slimy mouth, they were instantly jerked out by an
impatient toss of his head. Towards this evening, however, he began
to glower about, and once or twice suddenly flew out into the midst
of the room, and then fluttered either to the ground, or to some
resting place. Many little Tineæ were flitting around my dried bird-
skins, and I conjectured that he might be capturing these, especially
as when at rest his eye would now and then seem to catch sight of
some object, and glance quickly along, as if following its course. The
statement of Cuvier, that “the proportions of the Nyctibius
completely disqualify it from rising from a level surface,” I saw
disproved; for notwithstanding the shortness of the tarsi, (and it is,
indeed, extreme,) my bird repeatedly alighted on, and rose from, the
floor, without effort. When resting on the floor, the wings were
usually spread; when perching, they about reached the tip of the
tail. If I may judge of the habits of the Potoo from what little I have
observed of it when at liberty, and from the manners of my captive
specimen, I presume that, notwithstanding the powerful wings, it
flies but little; but that sitting on some post of observation, it
watches there till some crepuscular beetle wings by, on which it
sallies out, and having captured it with its cavernous and viscid
mouth, returns immediately to its station. Mr. Swainson appears to
consider that the stiff bristles, with which many Caprimulgidæ are
armed, have a manifest relation to the size and power of their prey,
beetles and large moths, while these appendages are not needed in
the swallows, their prey consisting of “little soft insects.” (Class.
Birds.) But here is a species, whose prey is the hardest and most
rigid beetles, of large size, and often set with formidable horns,—
which has no true rictal bristles at all!
Finding that my Potoo would not eat, and feeling reluctant to
starve it, I killed it for preparation. In depriving it of life, I first
endeavoured to strangle it by pressure on the trachea, but I found
that with all the strength of my fingers, I could not compress it so as
to prevent the admission of air sufficient for respiration. I was
obliged, therefore, to apply one or two smart blows on the head with
a stick. While giving it these death-blows, much against my feelings,
it uttered, on being taken up by the wings, a short, harsh croaking.
With this exception, it was absolutely silent all the time I had it;
never resenting any molestation, save that when irritated by the
repeated presentation of any object, as the corner of a handkerchief,
it would suddenly open its immense mouth, apparently for
intimidation; yet it made no attempt to seize anything. The stomach,
notwithstanding three or four days’ fast, was crammed with
fragments of beetles, among which were the horns of a large
Dynastes, that I had not met with. I may mention that the sclerotic
ring of the eye consists of distinct plates (see Pen. Cyc. xvi. 225,)
thirteen in number, varying in dimensions, and not perfectly regular
in form.
I afterwards kept a living Potoo for ten days; but its manners were
exactly the same as above, pertinaciously refusing to eat. Mr. Hill,
however, had one which greedily ate large cockroaches that were
thrown to it.
It is remarkable that among a people whose most striking feature
is the great development of the mouth, the Potoo has become a
proverb of ugliness. The “most unkindest cut of all” that a negro can
inflict upon another, on the score of personal plainness, is “Ugh! you
ugly, like one Potoo!”
I have seen that which serves this bird for a nest: it is simply a
round, flat mat, about five inches wide, and little more than one
thick, composed of the fibrous plant called Old man’s beard
(Tillandsia usneoides). It was found on the ground on a spot whence
the Potoo had just risen: it is in the possession of Mr. Hill, to whom I
am indebted for the following interesting observations.
“White’s conjecture of the purpose to which the serrated toe of
the Nightjar is applied, namely, the better holding of the prey which
it takes with its foot while flying, would have been more than
rendered highly probable by an inspection of the foot of the
Nyctibius. The inner front toe and the back toe are spread out by the
great extension of the enveloping flesh of the phalanges, to such a
breadth as to give the foot the character and form of a hand; while
the movement of these prehensile organs is so adjusted that the
back toe and the three front toes, pressed flat against one another,
can enclose anything as effectually as the palms of the hands. The
[claw of the] middle toe, which is serrated in the Caprimulgus, is
simply dilated in the Nyctibius, a peculiarity also of the swallows.
Whatever deficiency of prehension this may give it, when compared
to the power of the serrated nail of the Caprimulgus, is amply
compensated for in the Nyctibius, by the palm-like character of the
foot, by the extraordinary expansion of the toes, and by the quantity
of membrane connecting them together. All this would be a mere
waste of power if it did not perform some function like that which
White assigned to the foot of the Nightjar.
“The feathers of the head, but especially those around the dilated
gape, are of a peculiar structure. The covering of this part appears
at first sight a mixture of hair and feathers, but upon close
inspection, it is found to be composed of a loosely woven plumage,
in which the shaft of each feather is prolonged into a pliant filament
of great length. It is this texture which gives the character of
intermingled hairs to the feathers around the mouth. This tendency
in the shafts and in some of the webs also to terminate in filaments
is very prevalent in the plumage of the Nyctibius, each of the
feathers of the tail having this sort of termination.”
The Potoo is a permanent inhabitant of Jamaica; it is common in
the lowlands of the south side, and probably is generally distributed
in the island: it is found also in Brazil, for I am quite satisfied that
Mr. Gould’s N. Pectoralis is not specifically distinct from ours.

WHITE-HEADED POTOO.[11]

Nyctibius pallidus.—Mihi.
[11] Length 11 inches, expanse 22, rictus 1⁵⁄₈, beak from feathers to tip
⁵⁄₈, flexure 6, tail 3¾.
“The nostrils prominent, tubulated, and covered with a membrane;
from the nostrils runs a deep groove or furrow towards the tip. The beak
was bent like the end of an Owl’s, and when closed was longer than the
under mandible; the latter was of a subulated form, shorter and bending
in a contrary direction to the upper one: it was broader than the upper;
its margins were inverted, and received the upper one exactly, when
closed. There were no bristles on the angle of the mouth. The tibiæ
[tarsi?] or shank-bones are shortened into a heel, so that the measure of
what is usually called the leg, from the bend of the knee to the first joint
 of the middle toe is only ²⁄₈ of an inch. The length of that part which
ought to be called the leg, [tibia?] is 1½ inch, and the bone of the thigh
1 inch. Toes four, three before, one behind; covered with ash-coloured
scales, very flat beneath, and all connected by narrow membrane. Claws
brown, strong, gently curved and compressed; middle claw thinned to an
edge on the inner side, but not serrate. Tail of ten feathers, equal, broad,
rounded, barred with blackish and grey, and these bars again marked
with less black bars. Wing quills coloured chiefly like the tail, but deeper;
secondaries edged with clay-colour; winglet and long coverts immediately
beneath it, black, with a few whitish bars; greater coverts black, edged
with clay-colour; the next row of coverts whitish, with black shafts; the
next row black, making a large triangular black spot in the expanded
wing. Eyes very large, irides bright yellow. Head, neck, and throat white,
with black shafts; above each eye some black and white streaked
feathers in an erect position, forming two small roundish rings. On the
breast, clay-coloured feathers with black shafts, and black spots. Sides,
belly, and vent, white with black shafts. A line of black feathers down the
middle of the back; rump ashy, with narrow black shafts. On shoulders a
mixture of ash and clay-colour, with black shafts. Plumage very loose.
Weight 3 oz. 7 sc.”

The description below I have quoted (somewhat abridged) from

Robinson’s MSS., who has given an elaborately coloured figure of the
species in his drawings. I have never met with it, but I think Mr. Hill
has; for he has assured me of the existence of two true Nyctibii in
Jamaica, besides the common Potoo; and two Caprimulgi, besides
the Piramidig. I knew not exactly which species are alluded to in the
following extract from a letter of Andrew Gregory Johnston, Esq., of
Portland parish, a mountain region, to Mr. Hill. “We have two birds
called Patoo; one white, the other brown. The first resembles the
Scritch-Owl of Europe; the last is smaller; it is dark brown, and
makes a noise by night, (and occasionally by day) half guttural, half
pectoral or ventral, sounding the monosyllable wow, at short
intervals. I have seen a brown Patoo taken by a negro boy in mid-
day from a branch of a mango tree, with a noose fastened to a short
stick. It was young, but a flier. Its mother came to look for it, and we
caught her, and kept her some days. When liberated she would not
move off many yards from the house, but was seen daily for a few
weeks. When a prisoner it would eat cockroaches thrown down to it,
and if handled was cruel and spiteful, otherwise quiet and apparently
very gentle. There are plenty of them here. I listen to their sulky
wow, often in the watches of the night.”
Perhaps the present species may be “the small wood Owle” of
Sloane, ii. 296.

Fam.—HIRUNDINIDÆ.—(The Swallows.)
RINGED GOWRIE.[12]

Acanthylis collaris?
? Cypselus collaris, Pr. Max.—Temm. Pl. col. 195.

[12] “Length 8½ inches, expanse 20, wings reaching 2¼ beyond the tail,
tail 3, rictus ⁶⁄₈, beak from feathered part to tip ³⁄₈, tarsus ⁶⁄₈, middle
toe ½, claw ³⁄₈, inner toe equal to the middle one.
“Irides deep hazel [“blacker than the pupil,” Mr. Johnston;] beak black,
polished, a little hooked; nostrils large, oval: eyes large, deep sunk in the
head, with remarkably large eyebrows; toes three before and one behind,
covered as well as the tarsi with blackish purple scales; claws black,
polished, hooked, and compressed; tibia feathered to the tarsus. Head,
throat, wings, tail, and belly brown; the back and tail more inclining
towards black, as also the long quill-feathers. The breast partly white,
which was continued round the neck, like a ring: the head large, like that
of Edwards’s Whip-poor-will. Fore part of the eyebrows tipt with white.”

“As this bird seldom alights, it is furnished with two

supernumerary bones, which are placed on the superior and exterior
part of the leg; the skin that covers them is of an obscure flesh-
colour; they are of an oblong ovated form, one fourth of an inch
long; and as the bird hangs upon a wall, rock, &c., by his claws,
these bones are pressed close to it, and the leg thereby secured
from harm.
“The tail consisted of ten feathers, which, when expanded, formed
a large segment of a circle, somewhat pointed at their ends; the
innermost ones broadest. It is remarkable in this bird, that the tail-
feathers have naked shafts after the manner of the woodpeckers,
and adapted to the same use; for the shafts, being remarkably
strong and elastic, even to their points, help to support the birds in
their pendent situation, till they get fast hold by their claws, if there
is any to be got: if not, they can, by means of their tail, fling
themselves back, and recover their wings quickly, which might be
difficult for them to do were the shafts of the tail less strong. The
points are not only naked but sharp.
“Mr. Long had this bird alive. I set it upon the floor; it crept along
with its legs bent, leaning upon the aforesaid bones, but was not
able to raise itself upon its feet; its legs were not so thick as those of
our great English Swift. It was remarkably broad-shouldered,
measuring two inches from pinion to pinion; its head was one inch
broad between the eyes. It resembled the Caprimulgus of Edwards
in the form of its beak and body, as also in the largeness of its eyes.
Its feathers were all glossy.
“When the tail is half-spread it forms a straight line at the end;
when more, a curve like a fan. When by any accident this bird falls
to the ground, it creeps or scrambles to some rock or shrub, where
bending its tail and expanding its wings, it elevates its body, and at
the same time throwing its legs forward, catches hold of the rock,
&c., with its claws, and climbing up to a proper height, throws itself
back and recovers its wings.
“This bird was brought to me March 5th, 1759; it had fallen from a
tree by some accident, and was taken up by a negro, before it could
recover.”
The above notes in some degree arranged, and slightly abridged, I
quote from Robinson’s valuable MSS., who was evidently much
interested in the bird he has so minutely described. That interest I
myself felt in no small degree, on reading his notes, as there appear
manifest indications of an intermediate link between the diurnal and
nocturnal Fissirostres. It was therefore with very much pleasure that
I saw on the 4th of last April, what I believe to have been the
present species. At Content, in St. Elizabeth, as evening approached,
after a little rain, swallows of three species were careering around
the mountain: the White bellied Swallow and the Palm Swift were
numerous, and among them was a very large black species, with a
white collar, rather less numerous, prodigiously rapid in flight. I
vainly endeavoured to shoot it. A fortnight afterwards, about half an
hour before sunset, after rain, the Piramidigs which first appeared
were presently joined by the great collared Swift, which careered
with them in numbers. Again, about 11 o’clock in the forenoon, in
May, three of these birds swept overhead, heavy rain already falling
on the mountain, and beginning to reach the spot where I was. My
lad Sam, one day about noon, observed as many as a dozen passing
in a flock, in straight and rapid course, when black clouds, already
gathered round the mountain brow, threatened rain, which however
passed away to leeward. A few days after, a little earlier in the day,
and in exactly similar weather, or rather amidst the first large drops
of a heavy rainstorm, he saw three flying so low as nearly to skim
the ground; two pursuing in mazy course a third, from which
proceeded, now and then, a singular vibratory sound, which Sam
imitated by the word “churr.” This singular sound, which again
reminds one of the Goatsuckers, was also uttered by two, which,
about the same season and hour, and in similar weather, were
careering swiftly over Bluefields towards the mountain peaks.
Having mentioned the occurrence of this bird to my notice, in a
letter to Mr. Hill, he favoured me with the following interesting
account of his own acquaintance with the species. “* * * The month
was March, the early part of March, when the bleak northerly winds
of February had exhausted and blighted all vegetation, and the
lower range of the St. Andrews mountains, with their steep and
angular declivities walling in the plains, were looking as seared as if
a simoom had blasted them. The pastures below were destitute of
herbage, but the adjacent cane-fields were sufficiently green to
relieve the arid aspect of the mountains, and give the air of
cultivation to the plain. Myself and the friend with whom I travelled
had waited in Kingston till an afternoon shower had fallen. The sun
was just setting when we had got within the last mile of our journey.
We had completely headed the extremity of the Long mountain, and
were quite within the plain, encircled, as it there seems, by hills and
uplands. The air was pleasant and fresh;—the earth sent up its
reeking odour, musky and strong;—the road was splashy, and here
and there stood puddles in the grassless savannas. Lighted by the
level sunbeams the whole landscape was brilliant, and the masses of
recent rain-clouds that were up-rolled, but gathered low on the
mountains before us, were luminously golden and crimson. The
deep, desert bed of the Hope river was right in our view. Here, all of
a sudden, we found ourselves coursing our way through a hundred
of the White-collared Martin, and they seemed to spread all over this
corner of the plain in similar numbers. The extraordinary size of the
birds, the easy but rapid glide of their flight, just over the cane-fields
and savannas, not at a greater height than just above our horse,
when they crossed and re-crossed the road, sweeping so near to us
as to tempt us to strike at them with the chaise-whip, were very
remarkable incidents in a first acquaintance with them. I was able to
see the whole character of their form and colouring, ‘great black
Martins, with a white collar,’ as your letter delineates them. They
continued quartering over the fields, till the sunlight had left the
plains, or was only reflected by the mountains and their piles of
roseate clouds. The rain had brought all insect-life to the moist
surface of the earth, and these birds were following their
congregated swarms to the wet savannas. They sometimes stooped
to the puddles, and shot past with a twitter that very much
reminded one of the summer play of their smaller sized congeners.
“I have seen the same bird twice or thrice since, but in threes or
fours only, and, always, only near rocky and unfrequented hills.
Another friend, who drew my attention to them in consequence of
their numbers after rains, in his neighbourhood, lived among large
open savannas and salt-ponds, near the low range of rocky and
sterile mountains, which our maps call the Healthshire hills. He told
me he had traced them to the caverns in those mountains, in which
he felt assured they nestled in hundreds. This is the nearest to any
precise information, I ever could get of their haunts and habitations.”
I am not alone in thinking these birds difficult to shoot; a
gentleman who resides near Kingston, having observed them at his
residence one evening, the last spring, and kindly wishing to supply
me with a specimen, though an expert shot, fired five times
unsuccessfully at them. Yet I am not without hope of obtaining
specimens, particularly through the politeness of Mr. A. G. Johnston
of Portland. In answer to some observations of Mr. Hill’s, this
gentleman writes, “The ring-necked Swallow abounds here, and flies
all day, just as the other Swift does. Flocks of a hundred or two of
each, wheel and scream about us before a shower. I have a
specimen before me, which I stuffed sixteen years ago, pretty
perfect yet, but I propose to shoot you some fresh birds. I find no
difficulty in bringing them down, but I never saw one alight or perch
anywhere.”
It is with doubt that I identify this bird with the “White-necked
Martin” of Temminck, found by the Prince de Nieuwied in his voyage
to Brazil. He states it to be very common in the environs of Rio
Janeiro, and in all the districts of that province, where “it is found
among rocks.” Perhaps it is Hirundo 3, of Browne.
When the above was just going to press, I received from Mr. Hill
information that a specimen of this bird had been obtained by Mr.
Johnston. A careful drawing of the left foot accompanied it, with the
following note. “The legs are curiously constructed: the tarsus
cannot extend further than here represented, [viz. forming an angle
with the tibia, of 28°] nor can it be straightened, so that it
corresponds with the tail feathers, and keeps the bird in an upright
position against vertical rocks and trees.” Mr. J. ascertained that from
this formation, the bird cannot stand erect on the ground, nor can it
apparently walk; and he has been told that cattle-boys and
fishermen in Portland both say that they have taken young ones of
this species clinging to the vertical honey-comb rocks, against whose
base the sea dashes. As the specimen thus procured is kindly
destined for me, I hope to speak still more definitely, if it arrive in
time, in an appendix. Perhaps it may form a new genus.
Mr. Johnston’s little boys, familiar with Peter Wilkins’s story, have
been accustomed to call these birds Gowries; because of the rushing
noise they make with their wings; a noise that is heard even when
they sweep by, far overhead. I have adopted this appellation.

PALM SWIFT.[13]

Tachornis phœnicobia.—Mihi.
[13] Tachornis. Generic Character.—Bill very short, depressed, gape very
wide, the sides suddenly compressed at the tip, which is curved; the
margins inflected: nostrils, large, longitudinal, placed in a membranous
groove, the margins destitute of feathers. Wings very long and narrow;
first quill tapered to a point: second longest. Tail slightly forked, a little
emarginated. Tarsi rather longer than middle toe, feathered. Toes all
directed forwards, compressed, short, thick, and strong, with compressed
claws. Sternum immarginate, but with three foramina, one through the
ridge, and one on each side.
Length 4²⁄₁₀ inches, expanse 9⁴⁄₁₀, flexure 4, reach of wings beyond
the tail ⁹⁄₁₀, tail, outer feathers 1⁷⁄₁₀, uropygials 1³⁄₁₀, rictus ⁵⁄₁₀, beak
³⁄₂₀, tarsus ¼, middle toe rather less than ¼.
Irides dark hazel; beak black; feet purplish flesh-colour; claws horn-
colour; inside of mouth, flesh-colour, tinged in parts with bluish. Head
smoke brown, paling on the sides; back, wings, tail-coverts, and tail,
sooty-black, unglossed, or with slight greenish reflections on the tail.
Across the rump a broad band of pure white, the black descending into it
from the back, in form of a point; sometimes dividing it. Chin and throat
silky white, the feathers brown at the base; sides smoky-black, meeting
in a narrow, ill-defined line across the breast; medial belly white. Thighs,
under tail-coverts, and inner surface of wings smoky-black.

This delicately-formed little Swift, conspicuous even in flight, from

the broad belt of white across the black body, is a very common
species in Jamaica, where it resides all the year. Over the grass-
pieces and savannas of the lowlands, the marshy flats at the