A naturalist's rambles about home

Contents

PAGE

A Word at the Start, in lieu of a Preface .... 5

Chap. I. — Our Mammals in General 17 II. — Glimpses of Wild-Cats 22

III. — Wicked Weasels 27

IV. — Our Common Mink 33

Y.— The Skunk 3S

YL— The Otter . 46

VII. — The Flying-Squirrel 51

VIII.— The Chipmunk 58

IX.— Wild Mice 64

X. — Musk-Rats and Squirrels as Weather-Prophets . .73 XI. — Does the Opossum play " 'Possum " ? . . . .84

XII. — Our Birds in General 93

XIII. — The Migration of Inland Bird3 97

XIV. — A Short Study of Birds' Nests 124

XV.— The Songs of Birds 136

XVI. — Chats and Wrens: a Summer's Study .... 145

XVII. — The Carolina Wren: a Year of its Life . . .153

XVIII. — Do Swallows hibernate ? . . . . . . .159

XIX. — A Secluded Corner 183

XX. — Three Beeches 191

XXI. — Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks 198

XXII.— Early Morning 201

XXIIL— A Walk in Winter 209

XXIV. — Feeding Habits of Kingfishers . . . . .214

XXV.— The Saw-Whet and other Owls . . . .218

XXVI. — Notes on our Herons 226

XXVII.— Notes on the Wood-Duck . 237

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

XXVIII. — A Southerly Rain 242

XXIX. — Short Studies of Turtles 250

XXX. — Uz Gaunt's Talk about Turtles 276

XXXI. — Short Studies of Snakes 2S2

XXXII. — Uz Gaunt's Snake-Story 307

XXXIII. — Short Studies of Batrachians 312

XXXIY. — Brief Notes on Fishes 351

XXXV. — Brief Notes on Fishes (continued) . . . .372 XXXVI. — Brief Notes on Fishes (concluded) . . . .402

XXXVII. — Traces of Voices in Fishes 433

Index 481

IN LIEU OP A PREFACE.

When I happen out for a stroll, the difficulty that besets me is not what to seek — for to ramble without an object is an abomination — but what to choose of the endless variety of objects worthy of attention. I do not like to determine this after I have started, but prefer saying to myself, " I will watch the birds to-day," or, " I will hunt up the meadow-mice." To do this, at once gives an additional interest to a contemplated ramble ; and, in all my experience, I have never yet failed to find some trace, at least, of that object to observe which I took the walk.

Avoid the highways when you take a walk. Even if well shaded, they are abandoned now to the pestiferous English sparrows ; and if you are really intent on a good tramp of a few miles, do not turn aside for a stretch of swamp. If you have any fear of wet feet, be properly shod before starting. It too often happens that the sights best worth seeing come to you when in a bit of wet meadow. The swamp-sparrows, that are such sweet songsters ; the marsh-wrens and the king-rails and soras will not come to the dry ground at the edge of the meadow and sing and show themselves for your benefit. If you want to enjoy them, you must go to their haunts ; and once there, if you are really fond of birds, you will never regret it. There are neglected, tangled, briery nooks in every neighborhood that will repay frequent visits. There some of the best bird-music is to be heard. In an old field I know of, too barren to be worth cultivating, and unpleasantly strong with the odors of Jamestown weed, there is every summer a whole colony of Carolina wrens, and their songs are not excelled by any of our birds, except certain thrushes and the rose-breasted grosbeak. In this same field, too, I am sure of finding scores of garter-snakes, and the pretty creatures add a charm to the place. Finally, nowhere else are there so many gorgeously- colored dragon-flies as about this same neglected, weed - grown field. By very many, walks are thought to be enjoyable only in what is commonly called pleasant weather. What constitutes a pleasant day, as distinguished from an unpleasant one, is not very clear. If I have seen something new, that day is pleasant, however the thermometer registers or the winds blow. Surely, too, after a month of sunny days, a steady, pouring rain is delicious, not to look at merely, but to be about in it. It is charm enough to tempt one out to see how the birds and mice and squirrels, and the snakes, frogs, and insects pass their time when it rains. The cunning you will see displayed by them will compensate for the soaking you may get.

If the weather be cold, walk fast and see fast, and, if you have well-trained eyes, no feeling of cold will annoy you ; unless, indeed, you are needlessly bundled up, and do nothing but wonder where the thermometer ranges. A good rule for one who walks in winter is, to forget that there are such things as thermometers, and never to

A WORD AT THE START. ?

look at one when leaving the door-step. Perhaps it is snowing. Well, the very creatures that the observant walker loves to see can not more readily dodge the snow-storm than he can ; and is it not a sufficient incentive to learn what the birds and mammals are about when snowed up, to warrant a ramble over snow-clad fields and in the leafless woods ? Who that has seen a cardinal grosbeak in the full glory of his crimson dress, perched upon a bare twig, with nothing but untrodden snow for a background, and heard his cheery whistle come ringing through the crisp air, can ever forget it ? Such a sight is not to be witnessed from your sitting-room windows. No, no, there is reason for rambling at all times, with perhaps one exception. In the noon of midsummer days it is proper to remain in-doors to rest, to keep cool, if happily you can. Nature herself, just then, is taking a nap.

A word, now, as to where my home is, for I have never rambled elsewhere. I will not attempt a description ; for why, indeed, should I expose its nakedness ? It came to me not through purchase, but by the accident of birth. Just two centuries ago, a lad came from Nottingham, England, to what was then a mere ghost of a village, but is now the present city of Philadelphia. By chance he came into " the Jerseys," and, when of age, chose, as a site for the home he purposed building, a tract on Crosswicks Creek, a navigable stream that enters the Delaware River at Bordentown. By trade a wheelwright, but by choice a farmer, he throve well, and added hundreds of acres to his original purchase ; and now, two centuries later, I find myself anchored within sight of where my respected ancestor dwelt. Tes, and writing these lines at a curious old desk that belonged to his thrifty son, who bought other lands, built boats, and died early of grief, because the breaking out of the Revolution spoiled his plans. The predecessors of my ancestors, as possessors of the soil, merit a moment's attention. These dusky-skinned natives were greatly attached to the neighborhood, and the abundance of their handiwork in stone still testifies to their prolonged occupancy of the country. Not only are there hundreds of their relics on every acre, but there is also a fragmentary tradition that, not far from my door-yard, Oconio-coco-coco-cadgi-cadgi-cadonko had his wigwam ; and not far off, under an enormous whiteoak, fought single-handed with the fiercest of cougars, long the terror of the neighborhood, and slew him with a flint knife. Oeonio's grave is supposed to be quite near, but I have never sought to disturb his bones, much as I would like to have them, nor have I even looked for a wonderful stone pipe that was buried with him. Perhaps it is all true. I accept it as such, because it is pleasant to recall the story, as told me nearly forty years ago. I have often tried to determine, in various ways, how long these Indians roamed along this terrace and over these fields and meadows, but have not as yet reached a satisfactory conclusion. That they were here for a long time can not be questioned, and even now, so long after their departure, the traces of their former presence lends a charm to our quiet rambles ; for, whenever we happen upon bare ground, the chances are that we shall see an arrow - head, and what a wealth of pleasing fancies even a single arrowhead may bring up! How many possible occurrences may be connected with this bit of chipped jasper ! So it is, indeed, the country over; and often an unsuspected mine of pleasure is lying exposed to the gaze of those who, walking abroad, see nothing and learn nothing.

Relic-hunting, properly conducted, is an art, and had better be treated as such. It is too laborious for quiet rambling— as the eyes must always be fixed on the ground.

Here, to-day, much as in the olden time, are the broad stretches of meadow that, skirting the Delaware, are my constant delight and the scenes of my happiest days out-of-doors. Back from the river, more than half a mile, and parallel to it, is the elevated plateau that extends eastward and seaward. From the one to the other there is no sloping, intervening stretch of land, other than the meadows. To pass from the uplands to the lowlands you must trip down a steep descent of eighty feet. Steep as it is, it is well wooded, and is the " hill-side " of which I shall say much hereafter. It is a jolly place for those given to quiet rambles. There the earliest spring flowers are to be found, and to gather the earliest bloom of the year is surely worth an effort. There, too, tarry the forerunners of the flight of summer songsters that gladden the hearts of all who hear their melody, for no subsequent songs are so charming as the first notes of the pioneer thrush, red-wing, or oriole.

My house stands on the very edge of this terrace, and is so placed that from my windows I can see the meadows below and the river beyond. A substantial structure it is, and it answered my great-grandfathers' modest wants though it does not suit me ; still I am compensated for what it lacks, in the oaks, beeches, and locusts that surround it, as it is under them that I live. So much, then, as to the place where I live. Evidently there is not a single romantic feature in the neighborhood. The first Europeans who settled here were Quakers, and the plain-

10 A WORD AT TEE START.

n ess of the surroundings doubtless had its influence in deciding their choice. So strict were they, as their meeting records show, that probably they would have covered up any natural beauty that might have had a tendency to foster a poetical sentiment among their people ; just as they desired their blooming maidens, if their color was too bright, to dust their cheeks with flour before attending meeting. It proved to be a " concern " upon the minds of the elders lest the aforesaid rosy cheeks should distract the attention of the young men who sat on benches so placed that they could look upon the fair faces of these maidens. Even in such prosaic times the young men thought a pretty girl was more to be desired that a drowsy sermon, and their seniors chided them for so thinking. The descendants of these Quakers, happily less strict, still assemble in the old meeting-house.

But long years ago a gifted man, Archibald, nephew of William Bartram, the naturalist and traveler, thought otherwise of this neighborhood and the young maidens of his day. Of these meadows and the wooded bluff he sang:

" Sweet Nottingham ! thy charms I prize, Where yonder hills abruptly rise, Which gird thy valleys green ; At dawn, at noon, at close of day, Along these heights I love to stray And gaze upon the scene."

This, and much more, he found to say about the spot during his many visits, just eighty years ago — found it to say, too, in spite of living in Bartram's garden on the Schuylkill, where there was so much to attract a poet and naturalist. The matter, perhaps, is explicable from the fact that a maiden was even more attractive than the

A WORE AT TEE START H

neighborhood, and a suspicion crosses my mind that, childlike, he "made believe" to have discovered the beauty of the locality, hoping it would please the darkeyed damsel. In this he succeeded. She was pleased, and all would have gone well, had he not, so soon after, passed away. From about this time these meadows and the bluff attracted many naturalists of repute, then living in Philadelphia. Conrad the elder, botanist and mineralogist ; Conrad the geologist, his son ; and Rafinesque, Say, Le Seure, Bonaparte, Wilson, and others, all rambled about here. Indeed, the names of some, cut by themselves, are still to be deciphered on one of the old beeches that guards a famous spring, where they were wont to halt at noon-time.

An instructive, pleasant, leisurely stroll is not unprofitable, even if the more striking objects of natural history are absent. It is a sad error to suppose that the most familiar of our birds, to say nothing of other forms of life, both vegetable and animal, can ever be so familiar that nothing further can be learned by observing them. There is a percentage of probability so large that we may detect something quite new to us in the habits even of the little social chipping sparrow, that it is unwise even for the experienced ornithologist to pass them by unheeded. If it is early summer, you may happen to find its nest. Of course, you know it is always lined with hair. Well, look at the nest you have found, nevertheless, if you can without disturbing it, and perhaps you may find a different material used. I did once, and once only, and it was a more pleasant discovery than many I have since made. As I continued my walk that same day, I pondered long on the subject of variation in nest-building, and found half a dozen other nests of birds before I returned. One was a delicate, pensile structure,

12 A WORD AT TEE START.

apparently too fragile to hold safely the three little eggs it contained ; yet with them was an egg of the Cowpen bird, larger than the three others together.

If a walk is taken for mental as well as bodily exercise, it is most unwise to ignore familiar objects, or refuse to ramble because there i§ nothing to see. When once the impression of nothing to see gains possession of a person, he is in a bad way, as he is deprived of one great source of pleasure, and must acquire his knowledge at second hand or not at all. Not that I think little of a book-knowledge of Nature, for I read many books with delight ; but the best book is that which sends us out-of-doors, in search of information, rather than to the library.

Walks may be taken alone or in company ; but if you go with a companion, be sure he is thoroughly sympathetic, or the ramble will be in vain. The best company are those that live closest to Nature, and he is wise who is friendly with the old trappers and fishermen who still linger in every village. If the rambler is young, and learning Nature's A, B, C's, an opportunity to question an old trapper is something to be prized. More can be learned of them, by judicious questions, than by reference to a cyclopaedia. Aspiring, then, to be an accomplished rambler, to know how to stroll profitably, be not less on the lookout for those whose business is with Nature than for those lower forms of intelligence we call, collectively, animal life. A chance conversation discovered to me one companion of many of my walks. When a mere boy, Uz &J, Gaunt lived in this neighborhood, having a little cottage adjoining my grandfather's woods ; and he, above all others, gave me ray first lesson in practical zoology.

A WORD AT TEE START. 13

When I first met him he was about seventy years old, and ten years later he appeared no older. Had he not been bent and disabled, finally, from severe rheumatic attacks, I doubt if any one could have guessed his age. His hair remained dark and thick, his forehead showed few wrinkles, his eye was as bright and piercing, at the last, as when, a score of years ago, he would point out the green head of a mallard in the tall grass and bid me shoot. Often I would fire on faith, not able to detect anything but the waving grass wherein he saw a cunning mallard hiding.

TJz was the happy owner of a few acres, most of which were not arable. The five acres that immediately surrounded his house were shut in from the world by a swampy tract that remained undisturbed. Tempting offers were made for the valuable timber that grew upon it, but Uz had enough to meet his wants, and turned a deaf ear to all who suggested his parting with the trees. " They were my only companions when a child," he once remarked to me, " and I could not part with them now. I'm not chicken-hearted, that I know of, but to sell those trees would be like selling my own flesh and blood. They are a part of my life now, and my sister and I make out to live on the little patches of cleared land about the house. No, so long as I live I want the trees to keep me company."

" Then it is from the fact that you played all day under these trees that you became a naturalist," I suggested at the time.

" Yes, you hit it there. Of course, I went a bit to school, and father had two or three books which I read in a little, but my learnin' came from outdoors. Why, the birds seemed to know me after a while, and I gained their good-will by lettin' 'em alone.

My eyes would be on 'em all day, but I kept my hands off."

" But you carried a gun after a while," I remarked.

" Yes, but not for some time. Father made me work some, and when I did go gunnin' it was at proper times, and I didn't shoot birds in spring just to count their tail-feathers." This was a quiet dig at me, for Uz had but little patience with ornithology as I had attempted to study it. The minutiae of color and anatomical structure he gave the go-by, but knew the habits of birds as I never expect to.

In later years Uz left to his sister the care both of his house and little farm, and was ever on the alert, with gun in hand, to secure what game might be at hand. The number of rabbits he killed every autumn I dare not mention ; and, in the proper season, woodcock, quails, and ducks daily rewarded his rambles about their haunts. As a duck-shooter he had no equal in the neighborhood, and it was in this sport that he most delighted. For twenty years, during wilich I knew him well and saw him often, his sole occupation was that of a hunter and trapper, and, happily, he combined with these all the essential requirements of a practical naturalist.

To him I feel that I am indebted in great part for my liking for the great world of out-of-doors, and for a total indifference to the artificial, pent-up life of the city. He it was who taught me how to stroll leisurely about when I felt so disposed, and to see a wealth of wonder everywhere I went. It is proper, therefore, that I should here give him the credit that is his due ; and, in so doing, point out to others the desirability of seeking out in their respective neighborhoods other Uz Gaunts, and profiting by their acquaintance. There are few villages that do not contain some one who is better informed than his

A WORD AT TEE START. 15

fellows as to the natural history of the neighborhood ; and it is possible that what you fail to discover during your rambles will be learned by applying to the practical Uz Gaunt of your neighborhood. Such was my experience, and, in advising my readers to adopt a similar coarse, I can only hope that they may be so fortunate as to meet with one whose love of Nature was as sincere as was that of my old friend and teacher; and, that they can the better realize what manner of man he was, I have ventured to add " specimen days " spent with him, and record some of his observations in his own words.

As a result of many years of rambling about home, I have seen most if not all of the animals that are now to be found here ; and, whenever I saw any of them under circumstances that were of peculiar interest, I made a note of it. At various times, and in various publications, as " Hardwicke's Science Gossip " and " Nature " (London), " The American Naturalist " (Philadelphia), " Science " (Cambridge), and " The Popular Science Monthly " (New York), some of these field-notes have already appeared. The willingness, on the part of the publishers of these various serials, to have me reproduce them in their present form, is here gratefully acknowledged.

Rather than mar the pages with innumerable brackets, inclosing the scientific names of the animals I have had occasion to mention, I have added a complete list of the mammals, birds, reptiles, batrachians, and fishes of Mercer County, New Jersey. The common or local names I have used in the body of the work are here repeated, with the name now adopted by the systematists. This list will prove, I hope, of some value to those interested in the subject of the geographical distribution of our animals ; and will, at least, prevent any difficulty in properly identifying any animal to which I have referred under its common or local name.

If these " notes/' the gatherings of many years, shall serve to amuse or instruct my young readers, or those of maturer years, if any such there be, then I shall be quite satisfied with having preserved that which is here given to the public.

Prospect Hill, Trenton, New Jersey, March 1, I884.

EAMBLES ABOUT HOME.

CHAPTER I. OUR MAMMALS m GENERAL

The marked changes that have taken place in the surface of our country since its settlement, more than two centuries ago, have naturally had their effect upon the fauna. This is realized most readily when we compare our present meager list of mammals with the goodly array of "mightie beestes" that once roamed through our primeval forests. Even earlier — in the Indian or prehistoric times — faunal changes occurred, of even greater magnitude than any that have since taken place, for, partly through climatic change, but more through incessant persecution, the moose, reindeer, and bison had disappeared from !N"ew Jersey, and the mastodon had become extinct, long before the arrival of the whites.

The bear, elk, deer, wolf, cougar, and beaver still remained in vast numbers, however; and, although the Indians were essentially a hunting people, and depended largely upon the product of the chase, yet the many animals that were once common here might have held their own, had not the occupation of the country by the Swedes, and the consequent introduction of fire-arms and destruction of the forests, brought about results that were most disastrous to the larger mammals/ It was this latter cause, perhaps, more than all else, that affected the larger animals of New Jersey, within historic times ; for, as their haunts were invaded by the settler, they were driven first to the remote mountain, forest-clad swamps, and then westward, as was the Indian; and the presence ever afterward of the European prevented, in great measure, their return even to those localities where a new forest-growth replaced the old. Notwithstanding all these adverse conditions, the bear and deer still linger within our boundaries, while the wolf has only been exterminated within fifty years, and the elk and beaver almost as recently. That all the animals mentioned were once common here is proved by the presence of their bones in the shell-heaps or kitchen-middens of the Indians, and also by the accounts of the early travelers and settlers. Especially are we indebted to Peter Kalm, the Swedish naturalist, for many most interesting details of the fauna of the country as it was a century and a half ago ; and it is most instructive to compare his account of the habits of the mammals, that were then found here, with our own experience of the fauna that still remains among us. For instance, writing of New Jersey, in 1748, he says:

" Bears are very numerous higher up in the country, and do much mischief. Mr. Bartram told me that when a bear catches a cow, he kills her in the following manner : he bites a hole into the hide, and blows with all his power into it, till the animal swells excessively and dies " ; and again : " They have two varieties of wolves here, which, however, seem to be of the same species. . . . All the old Swedes related that during their childhood, and still more at the arrival of their fathers, there were excessive

OUR MAMMALS IN GENERAL. 19

numbers of wolves in the country, and that their howling and yelping might be heard all night. They likewise frequently tore in pieces sheep, hogs, and other young and small cattle." But a few years afterward they seemed suddenly to decrease in numbers, for in the year mentioned Kalm tells us that "they are now seldom seen, and it is very rarely that they commit any disorders. This is attributed to the greater cultivation of the country, and to their being killed in great numbers. But further up the country (i. e., up the Delaware Yalley), where it is not yet so much inhabited, they are still very abundant."

Some of our smaller mammals, on the other hand, appear to have been benefited by the change from a wild to a cultivated country, as, for instance, the squirrels, of which Kalm says : " The several sorts of squirrels among the quadrupeds have spread : for these . . . live chiefly upon maize, or at least they are most greedy of it."

Speaking of one other well-known mammal, now no longer found in New Jersey, the same author writes : "Beavers were formerly abundant in New Sweden" (.New Jersey), " as all the old Swedes here told me. At that time they saw one bank after another raised in the rivers by beavers. But after the Europeans came over in great numbers and cultivated the country better, the beavers have been partly killed and partly extirpated, and partly removed higher into the country, where the people are not so numerous. Therefore there is but a single place in Pennsylvania where beavers are to be met with ; their chief food is the bark of the beaver-tree, or Magnolia glauca, which they prefer to any other."

Deprived of so many of these most interesting animals, it would seem as if the limited areas of woodland still remaining were destitute of any features of mammalian life worthy our attention. This would be true, if the most interesting problems in biology could be solved only by the study of the habits of the larger animals ; but if we have not the cougar, we have the lynx; if not the elk, we have the deer ; and if not the beaver, there remains the musk-rat ; and it is to the study of the habits of such smaller creatures as have withstood the encroachment of man that our attention will be directed, and not to the past, when a larger, fiercer, and more attractive fauna dwelt within our borders.

In studying the habits of the few mammals that remain in New Jersey, it would, indeed, be interesting to determine to what extent their habits may have changed, since their environment has been so greatly altered by the destruction of forests, the drainage of swamps, and the cultivation of so large a portion of their former domain. I have already mentioned these changes, among others even more patent, as having aided in the extermination of most of our larger mammals ; and it remains now to inquire how far the smaller ones that are left have retained their old habits, and whether they have acquired any that are new. As their altered surroundings must surely have increased the severity of that struggle for existence that greets every creature born into the world, it becomes an interesting inquiry whether the same causes have likewise increased their cunning and quickened their wits. When we come to consider certain phases of bird-life, we will find that man's presence has changed some of their habits to a marked degree, and the same might reasonably be expected in the case of our mammals. I confess, however, that I have been able to find but few indications of such changes, and the accounts of the habits of the raccoon, musk-rat, and mink, as detailed by Kalm, seem to be as applicable to these