|
American
Bittern
Botaurus lentiginosus
[Published
in 1927: Smithsonian Institution United States National Museum
Bulletin 135: 72-84]
Though nowhere especially abundant, the American bittern is
widely and generally distributed over nearly all of the North
American continent and adjacent islands, wherever it can find the
secluded bogs and swamps, in which it leads a rather solitary
existence. It is less gregarious and more retiring in its habits
than the other herons, hence less conspicuous and not so well
known, even in localities where it is really common. Doctor Coues
(1874) has well described its character, as follows:
No doubt he enjoys life after his own fashion, but his
notions of happiness are peculiar. He prefers solitude, and leads
the eccentric life of a recluse, "forgetting the world, and
by the world forgot." To see him at his ordinary occupation,
one might fancy him shouldering some heavy responsibility,
oppressed with a secret, or laboring in the solution of a problem
of vital consequence. He stands motionless, with his head drawn in
upon his shoulders, and half-closed eyes, in profound meditation,
or steps about in a devious way, with an absent-minded air; for
greater seclusion, he will even hide in a thick brush clump for
hours together. Startled in his retreat whilst his thinking cap is
on, he seems dazed, like one suddenly aroused from a deep sleep;
but as soon as he collects his wits, remembering unpleasantly that
the outside world exists, he shows common sense enough to beat a
hasty retreat from a scene of altogether too much action for him.
In spite of its peculiarities this recluse of the marshes has
proved to be an interesting and an attractive object of study for
many observers, perhaps on account of difficulties to be overcome
in making only a slight acquaintance with it. There is a certain
fascination in searching out and studying the home secrets of
these shy denizens of the swamps. On a warm spring evening, when
the waters are teeming with new life and the trees and shrubberies
are enlivened by the migrating host of small birds, one loves to
linger on its border and listen to the voices of the marsh. Many
and varied are the sounds one hears at such a time. The air is
full of twittering swallows, coursing back and forth in search of
their evening meal; the spirited, resonant trill of the swamp
sparrow is heard in the long, tufted grass of the open spaces; the
loud gurgling songs of the long-billed marsh wrens come from the
cat-tail flags, where an occasional glimpse may be had of the
lively little birds; from way off in the marsh the clucking,
clattering voice of the Virginia rail alternates with the
whinnying cry of the sora, only a few feet away. But above them
all in intensity and volume are the loud, guttural pumping notes
of the bittern, the weird, wild love notes of the "thunder
pumper" or "stake driver."
Courtship.--The nuptial display
of the American bittern, a remarkable and striking performance,
has been well described by Mr. William Brewster (1911); I quote
from his excellent paper on the subject as follows:
At morning and evening I have heard them pumping or have
seen them flying to and fro, or standing erect with heads and
necks stretched up on the watch for danger, but previous to to-day
(Apr. 17), I have paid little attention to them. Two, which I saw
this morning, however, presented such a strange appearance and
acted in so remarkable a manner that I watched them for half an
hour or more with absorbing interest. When I first noticed them
they were on the farther margin of a little lagoon where
red-winged blackbirds breed, moving past it eastward almost as if
not quite as fast as a man habitually walks, one following
directly behind the other at a distance of 15 or 20 yards. Thus,
they advanced, not only rapidly, but also very evenly, with a
smooth, continuous, gliding motion which reminded me of that of
certain gallinaceous birds and was distinctly unheronlike.
Occasionally they would stop and stand erect for a moment, but
when walking they invariably maintained a crouching attitude, with
the back strongly arched, the belly almost touching the ground,
the neck so shortened that the lowered head and bill seemed to
project only a few inches beyond the breast. In general shape and
carriage, as well as in gait, they resembled pheasants or grouse
much more than herons. But the strangest thing of all was that
both birds showed extensive patches of what seemed to be pure
white on their backs, between the shoulders. This made them highly
conspicuous and led me to conclude at first that they must be
something quite new to me and probably because of their attitudes
and swift gliding movements pheasants of some species with which I
was unfamiliar. Thus far I had been forced to view them with
unassisted eyesight, but when I had reached the cabin and they the
edge of our boat canal directly opposite it, I got my opera glass
and by its aid quickly convinced myself that despite their unusual
behavior and the white on their backs they could be nothing else
than bitterns.
The white first appears at or very near the shoulders of the
folded wings and then expands, sometimes rather quickly (never
abruptly, however) but oftener very slowly until, spreading
simultaneously from both sides, it forms two ruffs apparently
almost if not quite equal in length and breadth to the hands of a
large man but in shape more nearly resembling the wings of a
grouse or quail held with the tips pointing sometimes nearly
straight upward, sometimes more or less backward, also. As they
rise above the shoulders these ruffs spread toward each other at
right angles to the long axis of the bird's body until, at their
bases, they nearly meet in the center of the back. Sometimes they
are held thus without apparent change of area or position for many
minutes at a time, during which the bird may move about over a
considerable space or perhaps merely stand or crouch in the same
place. We frequently saw them fully displayed when the bitterns
were "pumping" but not then more conspicuously, or in
any different way, than at other times. When the bird was moving
straight toward us with his body carried low and his ruffs fully
expanded he looked like a big, white rooster having only the head
and breast dark colored, the breast often looking nearly black.
For in this aspect and at the distance at which we viewed him
(perhaps 200 yards) the broad ruffs, rising above and reaching
well out on both sides of the back and shoulders, completely
masked everything at their rear while the head and the shortened
neck, being carried so low that they were seen only against the
breast, added little or nothing to the visible area of dark
plumage. When he was moving away from us in the same crouching
attitude the ruffs looked exactly like two white wings--nearly as
broad as those of a domestic pigeon but less long--attached to
either side of the back just above the shoulders. When we had a
side view of him the outline of the ruffs was completely lost and
there seemed to be a band of white as broad as one's hand,
extending between the shoulders quite across the back. Thus
whichever way he moved or faced the white was always shown, most
conspicuously, however, when he turned toward us.
I was now joined by Miss E. R. Simmons, Miss Alice Eastwood
(the California botanist), and my assistant, R. A. Gilbert, all of
whom became at once deeply interested in the birds which had
stopped and were standing erect by the canal about 20 yards apart.
Suddenly both rose and flew straight at one another, meeting in
the air at a height of 4 or 5 feet above the marsh. It was
difficult to make out just what happened immediately after this
but we all thought that the birds came together with the full
momentum of rapid flight and then, clinching in some way,
apparently with both feet and bills, rose 6 or 8 feet higher,
mounting straight upward and whirling around and around, finally
descending nearly to the ground. Just before reaching it they
separated and sailed (not flapped) off to their former respective
stations. After resting there a few minutes the mutual attack was
renewed in precisely the same manner as at first only somewhat
less vigorously. It was not repeated after this. Although a most
spirited tilt (especially on the first occasion), by antagonists
armed with formidable weapons (the daggerlike bills), we could not
see that any harm resulted from it to either bird. When we crossed
the river in a boat some 15 minutes later both bitterns were still
standing near the canal. Up to this time both had shown white
continuously but it disappeared as we were approaching them. One
took flight when we were in the middle of the river. We got within
20 yards of the other before it moved, and then it merely walked
off the marsh.
Nesting.--Strangely enough neither
Wilsor nor Audubon ever saw a bittern's nest. But much has been
published on it since and nesting bitterns have been favorite
subjects for photographers. It has often been said that the nest
is hard to find, but I have never experienced any great difficulty
in finding those for which I have looked; I have even found as
many as five in one day.
In Massachusetts the favorite nesting site seems to be in an
extensive and rather dense cat-tail marsh, where the nest is at
least partially concealed among the tall dead flags (Typha
latifolia) of the previous year's growth. While incubation is
progressing the new growth of green flags is going on, so that by
the time the young are hatched the concealment is complete. The
nest consists of a practically flat platform of dead flags, a foot
or more in diameter and raised only a few inches above the
surrounding water or mud. The color of the eggs matches that of
the flags almost exactly. Sometimes the flags are arched together
over the nest, but more often it is open above. The nests are
sometimes placed in other kinds of swamps or floating bogs, where
whatever nesting material is most easily available is used;
sometimes the eggs are laid on what is practically bare ground. I
once saw a nest at least 50 yards from a wet meadow; it was found
by mowing a grassy slope; the nest was concealed in the long
grass, but was on absolutely dry land, on which hay was regularly
cut.
In the sloughs and meadows near Crane Lake, Sasketchewan, we
found the American bittern nesting among the cat-tail flags and
among the bulrushes (Scirpus lacustris). It was here that I
found the five nests in one day, referred to above, all of which
were in one slough less than a quarter of a mile square. This is
at variance with the statement I have seen in print that only one
pair of bitterns nests in a marsh. The nests were the usual
platforms of dead flags or bulrushes, to match their surroundings;
the measurements of the nests varied from 12 by 14 to 14 by 16
inches; they were built up 6 or 7 inches above the water, which
was from 1 foot to 18 inches deep. One of these bitterns sat on
her nest contentedly while my companion, Herbert K. Job,
photographed her at short range. We also found a bittern's nest
here on the open meadow, near the slough, where the grass was
rather short and the ground nearly dry.
Dr. P. L. Hatch (1892) says that in Minnesota the nests
"consist of small sticks, coarse grass, with more or less
leaves of sedge brush and are placed directly on the ground in the
most inaccessible bog marshes and slough. Preferably a tuft of
willowy sedge is chosen that gives the nest a slight elevation,
yet not uniformly so, for I find them not infrequently placed
between the bogs in the marshes that are devoid of all kinds of
brush. A rank bunch of grass that springs up in these places will
most naturally be the place to look for them first, however."
R. C. Harlow writes to me that he has found the American
bittern "nesting regularly on the salt marshes of the coast
from Cape May to Ocean County," New Jersey. William B.
Crispin of Salem, New Jersey, wrote me: "The only set I have
taken contained three eggs built in a dry meadow amongst tall,
blue, bent grass, with little or no nest material except a few dry
grass stalks."
Several observers have noted that the bitterns usually make
paths leading to and from their nests, using one as an entrance
and one as an exit; and they say that the bird never flies
directly from or to its nest, but runs out and flies from the end
of one path in leaving and alights at the end of the other path
and walks to the nest in returning. Ira N. Gabrielson (1914) had
an opportunity to watch a bittern making one of these paths which
he describes as follows:
The paths were marked by a broken and trampled line of
vegetation and ended in a small platform. Our boat was placed
directly across the path for leaving, and we had an opportunity to
watch the building of a new one. On the first visit she walked off
through the wild rice to the east of the nest, grasping the
upright stalks with her feet and climbing from one to another. Her
weight broke numbers of them and made the beginning of the trail.
After going about 25 feet, she commenced to break other stalks
down and lay them in a pile. Some were already in the water and
she soon had a platform capable of sustaining her weight. The
reeds were seized in the beak and broken with a quick sidewise
jerk of the head. When the platform was finished, she stepped upon
it and stood there for a time before she flew away.
Eggs.--The American bittern lays from
three to seven eggs; the set usually consists of four or five, but
six eggs are often laid. The eggs are quite distinctive and are
easily recognized. The shape varies from oval to elliptical ovate.
The shell is smooth with a slight gloss. The color varies from
"Isabella color" or "buffy brown" to
"ecru olive" or "deep olive buff."
The measurements of 43 eggs average 48.6 by 36.6 millimeters;
the eggs showing the four extremes measure 54.2 by 38.6,
45.5 by 36, 48 by 33.5 millimeters.
Young.--The period of incubation
is about 28 days and the young birds remain in the nest for about
two weeks. Mr. Gabrielson (1914) has made some very interesting
observations on the behavior of young bitterns and their feeding
habits, from which I quote as follows:
During the absence of the parents, however prolonged, no
outcry was ever made by the young bitterns unless one of us went
out of the blind and tried to touch one of them. When we did this
they backed away from us, uttering a curious hissing sound and
pecking viciously at our fingers. It was interesting to note the
change in their actions after the parent left the nest. For
perhaps 10 minutes they remained in the position assumed after
feeding, as described above. At the end of that time they
commenced to raise their heads and look around. For the next hour
they sat contentedly on the shady side of the nest, occasionally
dipping the tip of the beak into the water but never drinking
anything. In the next half hour they began to grow uneasy and to
keep watch for the parent. Every blackbird that flew above the
nest caused each head to rise to its full height and silently
watch his flight across their horizon. At times they seized each
others' beaks in the same manner as the parent's was held. At
other times they seized the reed stems crosswise and pulled
vigorously on them, sometimes working the mandibles as if chewing.
This continued until the return of the parent, when all would
assemble on one side of the nest and watch her approach through
the reeds. No sanitary measures were noted, and the nest became a
rather unpleasant smelling place before our work was finished. At
9:55 .am. I heard the flapping of heavy wings and the female
settled down into the rushes about 20 feet from the nest. She
consumed 10 minutes in covering that distance advancing a few
steps and then remaining motionless for a time. When only 4 or 5
feet away, she stopped for five minutes, remaining, as far as I
could see, absolutely motionless, and then, apparently satisfied,
stepped up to the nest. She progressed by grasping the upright
stems of the aquatic plants and when she stopped to listen looked
as though she were on stilts. As soon as she reached the nest, the
young commenced jumping at her beak, continuing this until one
succeeded in seizing it in his beak at right angles to the base. A
series of indescribable contortions followed, the head of the
female being thrown jerkily in all directions and the muscles of
the neck working convulsively. Finally her head and neck were
placed flat on the nest for several seconds and then slowly raised
again. As it came up the food came slowly up the throat into the
mouth. As the food passed along the beak, the open beak of the
young bird followed its course along until it slid into its mouth
and was quickly swallowed. The young one then released his hold
and the parent stood with the muscles of the neck twitching and
jerking. The remaining young kept jumping at the beak until one
secured a hold on it, when the process was repeated. By 10:30 all
five of the brood had been fed. Each one after receiving the food
staggered across the nest and lay down with the head and neck flat
on the weeds and remained in this position for some time before
showing any signs of life again.
He says further:
An observation made in 1910 may be of some interest in this
connection. While a piece of wild hay was being cut a nest of this
species was uncovered and four of the five young were killed
before the team could be stopped. A small patch of hay was left
standing about the nest and the young one placed in it. At this
time he was fully feathered out but was unable to fly. The next
day the parent was noted flying into the patch of hay without
anything in her beak. After she left I walked over and approached
the young one, who immediately started to run. Seeing that he
could not escape, he stopped and disgorged the contents of his
stomach. An examination showed one garter snake about sixteen
inches long, a meadow mouse and three crayfish, all partially
digested. The observation seemed to prove that at this age the
young were still being fed by regurgitation.
The following observation by Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1905) is
of interest:
On June 26, 1904, while looking for sharp-tailed sparrows in
a salt marsh reached only by the high spring and fall tides, I
started a bittern that flew off with a complaining and frequently
repeated quacking croak. Soon after I became conscious that a
series of four stakes, projecting above the grass, was in reality
the motionless necks and bills of four young bitterns. My
companion noticed them too, but thought they were the remains of a
shooting blind. The early age at which this protective habit was
assumed is interesting, for the birds were entirely unable to fly,
being only about two-thirds grown, and their scanty juvenal
feathers were tipped with the fluffy natal down. When closely
approached they abandoned this method of deception, snapped their
bills loudly in anger, erected the feathers of their necks, spread
their feeble pin-feather wings, and sprang defiantly at us,
emitting a faint hissing snarl. One that I handled to examine
closely, spat up great mouthfuls of small fish. The manner in
which they attempted to escape was interesting. Crouching low,
with necks drawn in and level with the back, they walked
rapidly through the short grass, and we found one drawn up in a
small bunch at the foot of the camera stand. Both the motionless
and the crouching postures are the familiar protective methods
used by the adults.
Plumages.--The young bittern,
when first hatched, is covered on the head, back and rump with
long fluffy, light buff down, "tawny olive" or
"clay color"; the down on the under parts is more scanty
and grayer or more whitish in color; the eyes are yellow, the bill
flesh color and the feet and legs flesh color tinged with
greenish.
The juvenal plumage appears at an early age, a week or 10 days,
showing first on the back, scapulars and neck. By the time that
the young bird is half grown it is practically fully fledged,
except that the under parts are largely downy and a few shreds of
down remain on the head. The juvenal plumage is much like that of
the fall adult, but the crown is darker, the whole plumage is
brighter colored and the back neck-ruffs are entirely lacking. The
crown is dark "chestnut brown," variegated with dark
"seal brown"; the back is "ochraceous tawny,"
tinged with "russet," sprinkled and barred with dusty
markings; the buff in the wing-coverts is "yellow ochre"
or "buckthorn brown." These bright colors soon fade and
before the end of October the black neck-ruffs have appeared so
that the young bird assumes, during the first winter, a plumage
which is practically adult.
At the first postnuptial molt, the following summer and fall,
the young bird becomes fully adult. This and all subsequent
postnuptial molts are complete. There is little seasonal change in
adult plumages; the spring plumage is grayer above and paler
below, less buffy than the fall plumage; this change is probably
due to wear and fading.
Food.--The American bittern enjoys a
varied diet and a large appetite, but it is no vegetarian; it will
feed freely, even gluttonously, on almost any kind of animal that
it can find in the marshes and meadows that it frequents or about
the edges of shallow, muddy ponds. Its favorite food seems to be
frogs or small fish, which it catches by skillfully spearing them
with its sharp beak, as it stands in wait for them or stealthily
stalks them with its slow and cautious tread. It also eats meadow
mice, lizards, small snakes and eels, crayfish, various mollusks,
dragon flies, grasshoppers, and other insects. Fish and other
small creatures are gulped down whole, but the larger vertebrates
and crustaceans are more or less crushed and broken before they
are swallowed. Mr. Gabrielson (1914) describes its feeding habits
as follows:
The bittern soon came flying from the direction of the nest
and dropped into the grass a short distance from me and
immediately became stationary. The frogs, which were as thick here
as on the other shore, soon forgot her presence and began to swim
about or climb over the bogs. When one came within reach, out shot
the long neck and beak and seized him. He was hammered against a
bog a few times and swallowed. After securing a number in this
fashion she stepped up onto a bog and went to sleep. After a short
rest she flew a little way down the shore and went to hunting
again. After her hunt and rest this time she flew heavily across
the swamp toward the nest.
Behavior.--When disturbed at its
reveries under the cover of its swampy retreat, the bittern
surprises the intruder by a sudden but awkward spring into the
air; with wings flopping loosely and feet dangling, it utters a
croak of disgust, discharges a splash of excrement, and then
gathers itself for a steady flight to a place of safety. When well
under way its flight is firm and even, somewhat like that of the
other herons, but stronger and with quicker beats of its smaller
wings. Its flight is so slow that it is easily hit and easily
killed even with small shot; when wounded it assumes a threatening
attitude of defense and is able to inflict considerable damage
with its sharp beak, which it drives with unerring aim and with
considerable force.
The bittern is not an active bird. It spends most of its time
standing under cover of vegetation, watching and waiting for its
prey, or walking slowly about in its marsh retreat, raising each
foot slowly and replacing it carefully; its movements are stealthy
and noiseless, sometimes imperceptibly slow, so as not to alarm
the timid creatures which it hunts. When standing in the open or
when it thinks it is observed, it stands in its favorite pose,
with its bill pointed upward and with its body so contracted that
its resemblance to an old stake is very striking; the stripes on
its neck, throat, and breast blend so well with the vertical
lights and shadows of the reeds and flags, that it is almost
invisible. Professor Walter B. Barrows (1913) has noted an
interesting refinement of this concealing action, which he has
described as follows:
The bird, an adult bittern, was in the characteristic erect
and rigid attitude already described and so near us that its
yellow iris was distinctly visible. Then, as we stood admiring the
bird and his sublime confidence in his invisibility, a light
breeze ruffled the surface of the previously calm water and set
the cat-tail flags rustling nodding as it passed. Instantly the
bittern began to sway gently from side to side with an undulating
motion which was most pronounced in the neck but was participated
in by the body and even the legs. So obvious was the motion that
it was impossible to overlook it, yet when the breeze subsided and
the flags became motionless the bird stood as rigid as before and
left us wondering whether after all our eyes might not have
deceived us. It occurred to me that the flickering shadows from
the swaying flags might have created the illusion and that the
rippling water with its broken reflections possibly made it more
complete; but another gentle breeze gave us an opportunity to
repeat the observation with both these contingencies in mind and
there was no escape from the conclusion that the motion of the
bittern was actual, not due to shadows or reflections, or even to
the disturbance of the plumage by the wind itself. The bird stood
with its back to the wind and its face toward us. We were within a
dozen yards of it now and could see distinctly every mark of its
rich, brown, black, and buff plumage, and yet if our eyes were
turned away for an instant it was with difficulty that we could
pick up the image again, so perfectly did it blend with the
surrounding flags and so accurate was the imitation of their
waving motion. This was repeated again and again, and when after
10 or 15 minutes we went back to our work the bird was still
standing near the same spot and in the same rigid position.
although by almost imperceptible steps it had moved a yard or more
from its original station.
The most characteristic performance of the
bittern, for which it is best known and from which some of its
names have been derived, is one in which it is more often heard
than seen, its remarkable "thunder-pumping" performance.
It is more frequently and more constantly heard in the spring, as
part of the nuptial performance, but it may be heard at any time
during the summer and rarely in the fall. It is only within
comparatively recent years that the mystery of this disembodied
voice of the marshes has been thoroughly cleared up by actual
observations; many erroneous theories had previously been
advanced, as to how the sound was produced. Anyone who has ever
skinned a male bittern in the spring, might have noticed that the
skin of the neck and chest becomes much thickened and reinforced
with muscular and gelatinous tissues, so that it can form a
bellows for producing the loud, booming sounds. These notes have
been likened to the sound made by an old wooden pump action and to
the sound made by driving a stake into soft ground; the fancied
similarity of the bittern's notes of two such different sounds is
not so much due to different interpretations by observers, as to
the fact that there are two quite distinct renderings of the
notes, by different birds or by the same bird under different
circumstances. Mr. Bradford Torrey (1889) has published some
valuable notes on this subject, from which I quote, as follows:
First the bird opens his bill quickly and shuts it with a
click; then he does the same thing again, with a louder click; and
after from three to five such snappings of the beak, he gives
forth the familiar trisyllabic pumping notes, repeated from three
to eight times. With the preliminary motions of the bill the
breast is seen to be distending; the dilation increases until the
pumping is well under way, and as far as we could make out, does
not subside in the least until the pumping is quite over. It
seemed to both of us that the bird was swallowing air--gulping it
down--and with it distending his crop; and he appeared not to be
able to produce the resonant pumping notes until this was
accomplished. It should be remarked, however, that the gulps
themselves, after the first one or two at least, gave rise to
fainter sounds of much the same sort. The entire performance, but
especially the pumping itself, is attended with violent convulsive
movements, the head and neck being thrown upward and then forward,
like the night heron's when it emits its 'quow,' only with much
greater violence. The snap of the bill, in particular, is
emphasized by a vigorous jerk of the head. The vocal result, as I
say, is in three syllables; of these the first is the longest,
and, as it were, a little divided from the others, while the third
is almost like an echo of the second. The middle syllable is very
strongly accented. The second musician, as good luck would have
it, was a stakedriver. The imitation was as remarkable in this
case as in the other, and the difference between the two
performances was manifest instantly to both Mr. Faxon and myself.
The middle syllable of the second bird was a veritable whack upon
the head of the stake. I have no difficulty whatever crediting Mr.
Samuel's statement that, on hearing it for the first time, he
supposed a woodsman to be in the neighborhood, and discovered his
error only after tolling through swamp and morass for half a mile.
On this one point at least, it is easy to see why authors have
disagreed. The fault has not been with the ears of the auditors,
but with the notes of the different birds. During the hour or more
we sat upon the railway we had abundant opportunity to compare
impressions; and, among other things, we debated how the notes to
which we were listening could be best represented in writing.
Neither of us hit upon anything satisfactory. Since then, however,
Mr. Faxon has learned that the people of Wayland have a name for
the bird (whether it is in use elsewhere I cannot say) which is
most felicitously onomato-poetic; namely, "plum-pudd'n'."
I can imagine nothing better. Give both vowels the sound of
"u" in "full"; dwell a little upon the
"plum"; put a strong accent upon the first syllable of
"pudd'n"; especially keep the lips nearly closed
throughout; and you have as good a representation of the bittern's
notes, I think, as can well be put into letters.
William Brewster (1902) writes:
Standing in an open part of the meadow, usually half
concealed by the surrounding grasses, he first makes a succession
of low clicking or gulping sounds accompanied by quick opening and
shutting of the bill and then, with abrupt contortions of the head
and neck unpleasantly suggestive of those of a person afflicted by
nausea, belches forth in deep guttural tones, and with tremendous
emphasis, a "pump-er-lunk" repeated from two or three to
six or seven times in quick succession and suggesting the sound of
an old-fashioned wooden pump. All three syllables may be usually
heard up to a distance of about 400 yards, beyond which the middle
one is lost and the remaining two sound like the words
"pump-up" or "plum-pudd'n" while at distances
greater than a half mile the terminal syllable alone is audible,
and closely resembles the sound produced by an ax stroke on the
head of a wooden stake, giving the bird its familiar appellation
of "stake driver." At the height of the breeding season
the bittern indulges in this extraordinary performance at all
hours of the day, especially when the weather is cloudy, and he
may also be heard occasionally in the middle of the darkest
nights, but his favorite time for exercising his ponderous voice
is just before sunrise and immediately after sunset. Besides the
snapping or gulping and the pumping notes the bittern also utters,
usually while flying, a nasal 'haink' and a croaking
'ok-ok-ok-ok.'
Winter.--The bittern migrates, as
it lives, in seclusion, nor is it much more in evidence in its
winter home in the southern States and the West Indies, where its
habits are similar to those of the summer and fall. It is said to
be only of casual occurrence in Bermuda, but Capt. Saville G. Reid
(1884) says:
A regular visitor in the autumn, and occasionally in March,
frequenting the sedgy patches on the edge of the mangrove swamps.
To show how plentifully they arrive in certain years, I may
mention (though a cold shudder passes through me as I do so) that
no less than 13 were shot by one officer, who shall be nameless,
in the autumn of 1875.
Dr. Charles W. Townsend (1920) has found the bittern in
Massachusetts in winter; he writes:
In the severe winter of 1917-18, on December 16, I flushed a
bittern from the salt marsh near my house at Ipswich. It flew
several hundred yards and alighted in a clump of tall grasses
where I found it and again flushed it. There was snow on the
ground and the temperature that morning was 2 o
Fahrenheit.
American Bittern*
Botaurus lentiginosus
*Original Source: Bent,
Arthur Cleveland. 1927. Smithsonian Institution United
States National Museum Bulletin 135: 72-84. United States
Government Printing Office
Return
to FAMILIAR BIRDS Home Page
Return to
beginning of document
|
