|
Common Snipe
Gallinago gallinago [Wilson
Snipe]
[Published
in 1927: Smithsonian Institution United States National Museum
Bulletin 142 (Part 1): 81-98]
The above species, with its several varieties, enjoys a
world-wide distribution and is universally well known. The
American subspecies is widely distributed from coast to coast and
occurs more or less commonly, at one season or another, in nearly
every part of North America. It was formerly exceedingly abundant,
but its numbers have been sadly depleted during the past 50 years
by excessive shooting. Alexander Wilson first called attention to
the characters, size, and number of tail feathers, which
distinguished our bird from the European. But they are so much
alike that it seems best to regard them as subspecies, rather than
as distinct species.
Spring.--The snipe is an early
migrant, leaving its winter quarters just below the frost line,
just as soon as the northern frost goes out of the ground, about
as early as the woodcock. When the warm spring rains have softened
the meadows, when the hylas have thawed out and are peeping in the
pond holes, when the cheerful okalee of the redwings is
heard in the marshes and when the herring are running up the
streams to spawn, then we need not look in vain for the coming of
the snipe. Low, moist meadow lands, or wet pastures frequented by
cattle, are favorite haunts, where their splashings and borings
are frequently seen among the cow tracks. They are also found in
high bushy, wet pastures, or in the vicinity of spring-fed brooks
among scattered clumps of willows, huckleberries or alders.
Courtship.--On the wings of the
south wind comes the first wisp of snipe, the will-o-the-wisp of
the marshes, here today and gone tomorrow, coming and going under
the cover of darkness. All through the spring migration and all
through the nesting season we may hear the weird winnowing sound
of the snipe's courtship flight, a tremulous humming sound, loud
and penetrating, audible at a long distance. One is both thrilled
and puzzled when he hears it for the first time, for it seems like
a disembodied sound, the sighing of some wandering spirit, until
the author is discovered, a mere speck, sweeping across the sky.
The sound resembles the noise made by a duck's wings in rapid
flight, a rapidly pulsating series of notes, who, who, who,
who, who, who, who, who, increasing and then decreasing
again in intensity. It has been termed the "bleating" of
the snipe, but this does not seem to describe it so well as
"winnowing." J. R. Whitaker, with whom I hunted snipe in
Newfoundland, told me that both sexes indulge in this performance
and George M. Sutton (1923) suggested the possibility of it.
Dr. Joseph Grinnell (1900) gives the best account of this
courtship flight, as follows:
I was in a broad grassy swale, studded here and there with
scrub spruces and bordered by taller timber, when my attention was
attracted by a curious far-off song which puzzled me for some
time. Finally I descried the producer, a Wilson's snipe, so far
overhead as to be scarcely discernible against the clear sky. It
was flying slowly in a broad circle with a diameter of perhaps 600
yards, so that the direction of the sound was ever shifting, thus
confusing me until I caught sight of its author. This lofty flight
was not continuously on the same level, but consisted of a series
of lengthy undulations or swoops. At the end of each swoop the
bird would mount up to its former level. The drop at the beginning
of the downward dive was with partly closed, quivering wings, but
the succeeding rise was accomplished by a succession of rapid wing
beats. The peculiar resonant song was a rolling series of
syllables uttered during the downward swoop, and just before this
drop merged into the following rise a rumbling and whirring sound
became audible, accompanying the latter part of the song and
finishing it. This curious song flight was kept up for 15 minutes,
ending with a downward dash. But before the bird reached the
ground and was yet some 20 yards above it there was apparently a
complete collapse. The bird dropped as if shot for several feet,
but abruptly recovered itself to fly a short distance farther and
repeat this new maneuver. By a succession of these collapses,
falls, recoveries, and short flights the acrobatically inclined
bird finally reached the ground, alighting in the grass near me.
All of the early American writers, and many others since then,
supposed that the winnowing sound was made by the bird's wings,
although many European observers long ago argued that it was made
by the two pairs of outer tail feathers, which are widely spread
and held downward at right angles to the axis of the body during
the downward swoops and vibrate as the air rushes through them. W.
L. Dawson (1923) says that--
the body of the sound is produced by the impact of the air
upon the sharp lateral feathers of the tail, held stiffly, while
the pulsations of sound are produced by the wings. At least it is
certain that the pulsations of sound are synchronous with the wing
beats. The sound begins gradually, as while the tail is expanding,
and closes with a smooth diminuendo as the tail is closing and
while the wings are sailing.
N. S. Goss (1891) gives a different account of the courtship,
as follows:
In courtship, the male struts with drooping wings and
widespread tail around his mate, in a most captivating manner,
often at such times rising spirallike with quickly beating wings
high in air, dropping back in a wavy graceful circle, uttering at
the same time his jarring cackling love note, which, with the
vibration of the wings upon the air, makes a rather pleasing
sound.
Mr. Sutton (1923) noted some peculiar flight performances,
which may be connected with the courtship; he says:
On April 29 two birds were repeatedly flushed together; not
always the same two individuals necessarily, I presume, and not
certainly of opposite sex. But these birds often sailed gracefully
over the cattails, in wide sweeping undulations, with wings set in
a manner suggesting chimney swifts, a type of flight totally
different from any previously observed. The same stunt was many
times observed in the male bird of the pair whose nest was
located. In fact this type of display, if it were display, was so
common that the usual twitching, erratic flight was only rarely
seen. I have wondered if this may not have been a pair of birds,
possibly recently mated, though not actually nesting there.
On May 3, in a portion of the swamp near town, a new antic
was observed. A snipe, subsequently determined as a male, sprang
up close at hand, and after a few energetic, direct wing beats,
put his wings high above his body and, describing a graceful arc,
dropped toward the ground, his legs trailing, only to rise again
to repeat the performance. Never during this exhibition did he
actually touch the ground with his feet, so far as I could see,
but it gave that impression. He was clearly excited, and I now
know that such antics are a certain indication of nesting
activity. At such times the male gave forth several short notes
which may accurately be termed "bleats." Occasionally
the bird, after performing this novel antic would drop to the
grass some distance away, and then fly up after a time,
considerably nearer me, making it evident that he was attempting
to lure me away. Then again, after trying these antics for a time,
he would suddenly mount to the sky, and there would follow a
season of the weird wind music--always delightful.
Aretas A. Saunders, in his notes, says that--
After the eggs are laid the female often answers this sound
with a long call 'okee okee okee' repeated 8 or 10 times and
resembling the 'buckwheat' call of the guinea hen. I believe the
female is sitting on the eggs when she calls this way, for I have
found the nest by location the position of the sound at night and
returning in the morning. The nest is usually in about the center
of the male's circle of flight.
Nesting.--As with the woodcock, my
personal experience with the nesting of the Wilson snipe has been
limited to one nest, found in the Magdalen Islands on June 18,
1904. The nest was found by watching the bird go to it in the East
Point marshes. It was on dry ground in a little clump of grass,
under some low and rather open bayberry bushes, on the edge of a
boggy arm of the marsh, which extended up into the woods; it was
built up about 2 inches above the ground and was made of short,
dead straws and dead bayberry leaves; it measured 6 inches in
outside and 3 inches in inside diameter. The four eggs which it
contained blended perfectly with their surroundings and although
in plain sight, they were not easily seen. P. B. Philipp (1925),
who has found many snipe's nests in the Magdalen Islands, where he
says the species is increasing, writes:
The nesting begins in the last 10 days of May, and is a
simple affair. Usually wet marshy ground is selected, preferably
with low brush and grass with lumps or tussocks rising above the
bog water. The nest is a shallow hollow made in the grass or moss
of one of these lumps, lined with broken bits of dead grass and
sometimes with dead leaves.
William L. Kells (1906) gives a graphic account of finding a
nest of the Wilson snipe in southern Ontario, as follows:
On the 17th of May, 1905, as I was passing through a patch
of low ground overgrown with second growth willows, a rather
large-sized bird flushed from a spot a few feet from where I had
jumped over a neck of water. I did not see the exact place from
which the bird had flown, but the fluttering sound of her wing
caught my ear, and looking ahead I saw the creature, who with
outspread tail and wings, was fluttering on the damp earth, and
with her long bill down in the mud, was giving vent to a series of
squeaking sounds. I knew at once that this bird had flushed from a
nest, and that the object of her actions was to draw my attention
from something that she was very desirous to conceal; but a little
research revealed a nest containing four beautiful eggs. A clump
of willows a little elevated stood about 6 feet from the pool over
which the bird had flown, and midway between the water and the
willows, which overhung it, the nest was placed. This was simply a
slight depression made by the bird in the moss and dry grass, and
except from its concealed situation and being a little more
expanded, there was no particular distinction between it and those
of the more familiar killdeer plover and spotted sandpiper, though
the lining was probably of a warmer texture, being of fine dry
grass, while the eggs, as in the case of all the ground nesting
waders, were arranged with the small ends inward.
A Colorado nest is thus described by Robert B. Rockwell (1912):
This nest was located on (and above) the surface of slightly
damp ground at the edge of a good-sized area of very soft, boggy
land formed by the seepage under the dyke of the Big Barr Lake. It
was built in the center of a tussock of grass about 8 inches in
length and was a very neat, well-shaped and cupped nest composed
entirely of fine dry grass. In construction it was far superior to
any shore bird's nest I have ever seen, being so compactly and
strongly put together that it was possible to remove it from the
nesting site without injury. In general appearance the nest itself
is not unlike certain sparrows' nests.
A nest photographed for me by F. Seymour Hersey, near the mouth
of the Yukon River, Alaska, was in a very wet spot on the border
of a marsh; it was a deep hollow prettily arched over with dry
grasses at the base of a small willow bush.
The Wilson snipe is often a close sitter and sometimes will not
leave the nest until nearly trodden upon. W. J. Brown (1912) tells
of a case where he stroked the bird on the back and had to lift
her off the nest to photograph the eggs.
Mr. Sutton (1923) has published a full and very interesting
account of the breeding habits of the Wilson snipe in Crawford
County, Pennsylvania, where he found several nests in a large, wet
swamp among cat-tails and grasses; of the first nest he says:
The nest was beautifully situated in the center of a clump
of dried fern stalks--a clump similar to hundreds of just such
little islands near at hand but certainly admirably suited to such
a nesting site, for the eggs were almost completely surrounded at
the short distance of 4 inches by a paling of dead fern stalks.
The eggs were about 9 inches above water at this time, although
the water's depth changed constantly with every rainfall, and five
days later the outer rim of the nest was only 2 inches above water
level. Another was built upon a bit of decayed, sunken log and was
composed entirely of grass stems rather carefully laid together.
The eggs were but a few inches above the surface of the water, and
although grass stems connected the nesting site with other
vegetation the nest was virtually on an island surrounded by water
18 inches deep.
And of still another he says:
This nest was the only snipe nest I have seen which had any
real protection from above. The nest was so placed under a dead
willow branch and some leaning cat-tail stalks that it was really
difficult to see it. The grasses composing the nest had been
placed with care and were somewhat woven about the cat-tail stalks
and other grasses standing near.
Eggs.--Four eggs is the normal number
laid by the snipe; rarely five eggs are laid. They are about ovate
pyriform in shape and slightly glossy. The ground colors vary from
"buckthorn brown" or "Isabella color" in the
darkest types to "deep olive buff" or "dark olive
buff" in the lighter types, which are much commoner. As a
rule the eggs are boldly spotted and blotched, chiefly about the
larger end; but often they are spotted more or less evenly over
the entire surface. The markings are dark shades of brown,
"burnt umber," "bister," or "bone
brown." Often there are splashes or scrawls of brownish
black, or black at the larger end. "Snuff brown," "vinaceous
drab," or "brownish drab" under spots or blotches
often occur.
The measurements of 57 eggs average 38.6 by 28.1 millimeters;
the eggs showing the four extremes measure 42.4 by 29.5, 36.1
by 29.9, and 37.5 by 25.5 millimeters.
Young--The period of incubation is
from 18 to 20 days, and it is shared by both sexes. Mr. Philipp
(1925) says that three birds taken from the nest were all males.
The young leave the nest soon after they are hatched, and wander
about in the long grass, where their concealing coloration makes
them very hard to find. One day, while watching snipe with J. R.
Whitaker on a large marsh near the mouth of Sandy River in
Newfoundland, I saw a snipe several times go down into the grass
at a certain place. Thinking to find a nest there I made a careful
search, and finally found one small downy young; but not another
one could I find in a long hunt. This moist meadow full of grassy
hummocks is a great breeding place for snipe. Here we frequently
saw snipe sitting in trees, bushes, or on telegraph poles,
uttering their loud kep kep kep notes of protest. On the
girders of a steel bridge that spans the river at this point Mr.
Whitaker has seen as many as five snipe perched at one time.
Mr. Sutton (1923) describes the behavior of an anxious mother
as follows:
The mother's antics so claimed my attention that I did not
keep close enough watch of the young, and eventually was unable to
find them. I hesitated to tramp about much at the time for fear of
stepping upon them. The mother bird grunted and clucked
incessantly and fell upon her side uttering weird cries, and
beating her wings pitiably. At times she would dart into the air
and circle about in great haste, very close to me and alight in
the tall grass, whence she would run gracefully away until she was
again plainly in view. As she ran about her head was held rather
stiffly, and it seemed that moving it from side to side much
caused her inconvenience. In fact once or twice a definite
impression was given that she was carrying something in her mouth,
her head was held at such a strained angle.
Plumages.--The young snipe in its
dark and richly-colored natal down is one of the handsomest of the
young waders. The upper parts, including the crown, back, wings,
and thighs, are variegated or marbled with velvety black,
"bay," "chestnut," and "amber
brown"; the down is mainly black at the base and
brown-tipped; the entire upper parts are spotted with small round
white spots at the tips of some of the down filaments, producing a
beautiful effect of color contrasts and a surprisingly protective
coloration. The head is distinctively marked with a white spot on
the forehead, a black crescent above it and a black triangle below
it, partially concealed by brown tips; there is a distinct black
loral stripe, extending faintly beyond the eye, and a less
distinct black malar strip; between these two is a conspicuous,
large, white cheek patch. The chin and upper throat are
"light ochraceous buff"; below this on the lower throat
is a large sooty-black area, partially concealed by brown tips,
these "tawny" brown tips predominating on the breast and
flanks, and shading off to "pale pinkish cinnamon" on
the belly.
The juvenal plumage appears first on the back and scapulars,
then on the breast and wing coverts. A bird in my collection about
half grown has the above parts well feathered and the remiges
one-third grown; but the head and rump are still downy and the
rectrices have not yet started. The juvenal plumage is like the
adult, except that the buff edgings of the feathers on the sides
of the back and the scapulars, forming the stripes, are narrower
and paler, sometimes almost white on the outer webs. The body
feathers and some of the scapulars and tertials are molted during
the fall, making the young bird almost indistinguishable from the
adult.
Both young birds and adults have a partial prenuptial molt in
the late winter and early spring, involving the contour feathers,
wing coverts, tertials, and the tail. Adults have a complete molt
between July and October. The spring and fall plumages are alike
except that the fresh fall plumage is somewhat more richly
colored.
Food.--The feeding habits of the
Wilson snipe are much like those of the woodcock, except that it
often feeds in much wetter places and is somewhat less nocturnal.
Benjamin T. Gault (1902) discovered by observation that snipe
occasionally resort to open mud flats, unmindful of the cover of
darkness and that they feed at all hours of the day. He describes
their method of feeding as follows:
The snipe seemed to select as special feeding grounds the
water line just bordering the flats, where the mud was soft and
into which they delighted in sinking their bills to the fullest
depth. And in withdrawing them they never elevated their necks in
true sandpiper style. On the contrary they kept their heads well
"chucked down," so to speak, and in moving about from
place to place, which they seldom did, however, continue to hold
them in the same fashion.
In some respect their probing methods resembled the rooting
of swine--a simple, up and down forward movement, and if
remembered rightly, without lateral twists or side thrusts of any
kind, and at times exposing fully one-half of the bill.
Whether the Wilson snipe actually do resort to the so-called
"suction" method of procuring their food is a question
still undetermined in my mind. The glasses however brought out the
important information that the probing or feeling movements of the
bill were accompanied every now and then with a guttural or
swallowing motion of the throat, which at times developed into a
decided gulp, as though large morsels of some kind were being
taken down, and this without the removal of the bill from the
muck.
Henry W. Henshaw (1875) describes an entirely different method
of feeding; he says:
In migrating, however, especially in Arizona and New Mexico,
did it depend wholly upon its usual methods of obtaining
sustenance, it would fare badly, since, in some sections, there is
a total lack of meadow and marsh, and then it may be seen in broad
midday running along the sandy borders of the streams, and picking
up from among the pebbles and debris any tidbits in the shape of
insects it can find. It retains, however, even under these adverse
conditions, its habit of squatting, and, when approached closely,
I have seen it lower its body close to the ground, shrink as it
were into as little space as possible, and so remain till I was
within a few feet, when it would get up with its well known 'scaip,
scaip,' and, following the turns and sinuosities of the streams,
endeavor to find some little covered nook into which it could drop
out of sight.
Mr. M. P. Skinner watched a snipe feeding on the muddy shore of
a pond in the Yellowstone Valley; he says in his notes:
He was about 6 inches from shore and at each stroke his bill
went in up to his eyes. The strokes were rapid like those of a
woodpecker. He covered a space perhaps 4 inches wide and 15 feet
long in an hour, getting something every half dozen strokes or so.
He was very busy there for two hours at least.
Earthworms probably constitute the principle food of the Wilson
snipe, but it also eats cutworms, wireworms, leaches,
grasshoppers, locusts, beetles, mosquitoes, other insects and
their larvae, and some seeds of marsh plants.
Behavior.--Snipe are notorious
for their erratic flight and they often, probably usually, do
dodge and zigzag when they first flush in alarm, but not always; I
have seen them fly away as steadily as any other shore bird. Snipe
usually lie closely crouched on the ground trusting to their
excellent protective coloration, and do not flush until nearly
trodden upon; so that in their hurry to get away their flight is
erratic. When well under way their flight is steady and swift with
the occasional turnings common to all shore birds. When first
flushed they generally fly low, but when flying from one part of
the marsh to another, or when migrating, they fly very high. When
alighting they pitch down suddenly from a great height and then
flutter down slowly into the grass or drop straight down with
wings elevated and bill pointing upwards. They are less gregarious
than other waders; they usually flush singly, but often within a
few yards of each other if plentiful. They are seldom seen in
flocks. John T. Nichols tells me in his notes of a flock of seven
which he saw on Long Island:
They were flying high from the east to west, the regular
southward land for shore birds, and bunched up like dowitchers or
yellowlegs as they circled over the marsh, then slanted down
obliquely (as these other birds would have done) to alight on a
piece of dead stubble. By the time I reached them they had
scattered somewhat; four (scattered) and three (bunched) flushed
from this spot in close succession, and went off into the
southwest. The migration of the snipe may be mostly by night; it
certainly flies to some extent along the coast by day.
And Harry S. Swarth (1922) says:
While the usual manner of occurrence was for a single bird
to be flushed or perhaps two or three within a few square yards,
there were times when snipe were noted in small flocks, almost
like sandpipers in their actions. Groups of 10 or 12 individuals
were seen circling about through the air in close formation and
wheeling or turning in perfect unison. At such times almost the
only thing to betray the identity of the birds was the call note
uttered at frequent intervals. At no time, however, did birds
flushed from the ground depart in flock formation.
On the ground the snipe moves about deliberately with bill
pointing downwards. If alarmed it squats for concealment before
jumping into flight when hard pressed; the longitudinal strips on
its back and head so closely resemble prostrate stems of dead
grass that the bird is difficult to distinguish. Mr. Skinner
"saw one alight and run rapidly along the ground for 20 feet,
erect with head high, like a running bob white." C. J.
Pennock watched one standing on a bare mud flat with "a
continued up and down rhythmic movement of the entire body."
E. H. Forbush (1925) writes:
The snipe can swim and dive and uses both wings and feet
under water in its efforts to escape. Mr. Will H. Parsons writes
that he shot one that fell into a little clear streamlet where
later he found it dead, under water, grasping a rootlet in its
bill. Later, on the Scioto River, as he relates, he shot another
which fell into the river, and, turning, swam back toward the
shore. On seeing him approach it dived, and he saw it grasp a weed
with its bill. Wading in he secured the bird "stone
dead."
Voice.--Eliminating the winnowing
flight notes, which are unquestionably instrumental, the Wilson
snipe has a variety of vocal notes. The one most often heard is
the familiar scaipe note, a note of alarm and warning,
given as the bird rises in hurried flight. This note has been
variously expressed in writing, perhaps best by the word
"escape," which the snipe often does, unless the
sportsman is smart enough to say "no you don't," and
prove it. On the breeding grounds we frequently hear its loud
notes of protest, uttered while it is flying about or perched on
some tree or post; these are in the form of a loud clear whistle
like wheat wheat wheat wheat or more subdued in tone like whuck
whuck whuck whuck; they are always rapidly uttered and usually
consist of four or five notes. E. W. Nelson (1887) refers to a
similar note heard on the breeding grounds as "yak yak yak
yak in quick, energetic, explosive syllables. At the time when
the bird is uttering its note, it flies along within a short
distance of the ground with a peculiar jerky movement of the body
and wings as every note is uttered."
Mr. Nichols says in his notes:
When a bird gets up almost from underfoot, the 'scape' is at
times replaced by a series of short, hurried notes of similar
character. It is interesting to find in the Wilson's snipe this
imperfect differentiation of a note uttered at the moment of
taking wing from the one uttered when in or approaching full
flight--as it is a condition slightly different from the calls of
other more social shore birds which trust comparatively little to
concealment, take wing while danger is still at a distance with
hurried minor notes, so soft as to readily escape notice, and have
each a loud diagnostic flight call of much service in their
identification.
The 'scape' of the snipe has sufficient resemblance to the
woodcock's 'peent,' which forms a part of the nuptial performance
of that species, to leave little doubt that the two are homologous
(that is, of the same derivation), if we assume the snipe and
woodcock to be related. It is, however, more analogous (that is,
of corresponding place or purpose) with the wing twitter of the
woodcock. Its harsh quality is in keeping with the voices of
unrelated denisons of marsh and swamp, herons, rails, frogs, etc.,
and the discords of close-by bog sounds continually in its ears.
The quality of the snipe's call contrasts sharply with the
peculiarly clear, mellow whistle of the black-breasted plover, for
instance, and the ringing calls of species of similar habit, with
carrying power over the open distances of their haunts. The
connecting series of limicoline voices, through the reedy calls of
such marsh-loving birds as the pectoral sandpiper, leaves little
doubt that there is a correlation between habit and quality of
voice.
In some notes from Alaska, he writes:
July 17, on the slope of a low, gentle tundra hill a little
way back from the shore, ahead of me a snipe fluttered up a short
distance, then down; up, then down; accompanying this performance
with 'chup chup chup chup chew chew chew chew chew.' It
alighted in a comparatively open space with a couple of small bog
holes of water, surrounded with a circle of scrub willows, and
here I presently flushed it again. It rose with a 'chape' note,
more muffled and reedy than the ordinary Wilson snipe 'scape,'
and, curving downward, rose higher, attaining considerable
elevation in the distance, as I followed it with my glass. It now
began to zigzag up and down, maintaining approximately its
position in the sky to leeward. Meanwhile I heard an unfamiliar
more or less whistled 'peep-er-weep' once or twice, and an
intermittent winnowing sound, 'wish wish wish wish wish,' etc.
Being uncertain as to whether these sounds came from the distant
snipe, or from some other bird closer at hand in the air, I took
my glasses off the former to look about me, and as I feared I
should do, lost track of it in the sky. Presently the winnowing
ceased and I began to hear a continuous harsh 'cuta-cuta-cuta-cuta'
from over the brow of the hill, which turned out to be a snipe,
presumably the same one which had returned, standing on top of the
only stake thereabouts.
Field marks.--The Wilson snipe
should be easily recognized by its long bill, its erratic flight,
its conspicuous stripes, and the rufous near the end of its tail.
The harsh scaipe note is diagnostic. It might be confused
with the dowitcher, but the flight, notes, and usual haunts of the
latter are different. I have often thought that the pectoral
sandpiper resembles the snipe, as it rises from the grass, but it
lacks the long bill, and is not so conspicuously striped on the
back.
Fall.--The fall migration of snipe is
dependent on the weather, the first early frosts are apt to start
them along; when the brilliant red leaves of the swamp maples add
their touch of color to the marshes, and when the vegetation in
the meadows begins to take on the rich hues of autumn, then we may
look for the coming of the snipe. They are by no means confined to
fresh-water marshes at this season. I have occasionally flushed a
Wilson snipe on the salt marshes of Cape Cod, and have frequently
found them on the dry grassy shores of islands in inland ponds.
Wells W. Cooke (1914) says:
They seem reluctant to return south in fall, even though
they can have no appreciation of the constant persecution which
awaits them during the six months' sojourn in their winter home. A
few migrants appear in the northern part of the United States in
early September, and moving slowly southward, reach the southern
part of the Gulf States shortly after the middle of October. Soon
the main body of the birds follows, and all normally keep south of
the line of frozen ground. Yet every winter some laggards remain
much farther north, feeding about springs or streams. A few can
usually be found on Cape Cod, Mass., while in the Rocky Mountains,
near Sweetwater Lake, Colorado, the presence of warm springs has
enabled snipe to remain throughout an entire winter, though the
air temperature fell to 30 o F.
below zero.
Mr. Brewster (1906) writes:
During exceptionally wet autumns snipe occasionally resort
in large numbers to the highly cultivated truck farms of Arlington
and Belmont. An interesting instance of this happened in
September, 1875, when a flight, larger than any that I have known
to occur in the Cambridge region before or since, settled in some
water-soaked fields and covered with crops of corn, potatoes,
cabbages, etc., on the Hittinger farm, Belmont. Learning of the
presence of these birds about a week after their arrival, I
visited the place early the next morning, but all save 10 or a
dozen of them had departed, owing, no doubt, to the fact that
there had been a hard frost during the preceding night. The
borings and other signs which they had left convinced me, however,
that the statement made to me at the time by Mr. Jacob Hittinger,
to the effect that he had started 'four or five hundred snipe'
there only the day before, was probably not an exaggeration of the
truth.
Game.--The Wilson snipe, improperly
called "jack snipe," but more properly called
"English snipe," is one of our most popular game birds.
Probably more snipe have been killed by sportsmen than any other
game bird. it ranks ahead of all other shore birds and upland game
birds except, possibly, the woodcock, ruffed grouse, and quail.
When the startling cry of the snipe arouses the sportsman to
instant action he realizes that he is up against a real gamey
proposition. He must be a good shot indeed to make a creditable
score against such quick erratic flyers. A tramp over the open
meadows, brown, red, and golden in their autumn livery, with one
or two good dogs quartering the ground in plain sight and with an
occasional shot at a swiftly flying bird, is one of the delights
of a crisp autumn day. The birds will lie closely on a calm day,
but on a windy, blustering day they are restless and wild. It is
well to hunt down wind as the birds usually rise against the wind
and will fly towards and then quartering away from the shooter.
When two men hunt along a narrow marsh, the man on the windward
side will get most of the shooting. Snipe are usually shot on wet
meadows or marshes, but that they are often found in other places
is shown by the following quotations from Dwight W. Huntington
(1903):
Audubon says the snipe is never found in the woods, but
Forester mentions finding it in wild, windy weather early in the
season in the skirts of some moist woodlands under sheltered lee
sides of young plantations, among willow, alder, and brier brakes,
and, in short, wherever there is good, soft, springy feeding
ground perfectly sheltered and protected from the wind by trees
and shrubbery.
Abbott says: "During the autumn I have found them along
neglected meadow ditches overhung by large willow trees, and again
hidden in the reeds along the banks of creeks. I have shot them
repeatedly in wet woodland meadows. I have often found snipe in
bushy tracts and among the swamp willows, but I have never seen
them in the forest, and believe they so rarely resort to the woods
that it would not be worth while to seek them there."
Snipe must have been exceedingly abundant 50 or 60 years ago,
as the oft-quoted achievements of James J. Pringle (1899) will
illustrate. He was not a market hunter but a gentleman (?)
sportsman, who shot for the fun of it and gave the birds away to
his friends. His excuses for excessive slaughter and his apologies
for not killing more are interesting; he writes:
The birds being such great migrants, and only in the country
for a short time, I had no mercy on them and killed all I could,
for a snipe once missed might never be seen again.
I shot with only one gun at a time; had no loader, but
loaded my gun myself; had I shot with two guns and had a loader I
would, of course, have killed a great many more birds, but in
those days and in those parts it was impossible to get a man that
could be trusted to load.
During the 20 years from 1867 to 1887 he shot, on his favorite
hunting grounds in Louisiana, 69,087 snipe and a total of 71,859
of all game birds; but his shooting fell off during the next 10
years for he increased his grand total of snipe to only 78,602 and
of all game birds to only 82,101! His best day, undoubtedly a
world's record, was December 11, 1877, when he shot in six hours
366 snipe and 8 other birds. On his best seven consecutive
shooting days, alternate days in December, 1877, he killed 1,943
snipe and 25 other birds. During the winter of 1874-75 he killed
6,615 snipe. Captain Bogardus, the famous trap shot, killed, with
the help of a friend, 340 snipe on one day in Illinois, and seldom
got less than 150 on good days. With such excessive shooting all
through the fall, winter, and spring, is it to be wondered at that
the snipe have decreased in numbers?
Winter.--As mentioned above snipe
spend the winters in small numbers as far north as they can find
unfrozen marshes and spring holes, but their main winter resorts
are in the southern States, the West Indies, and northern South
America. They were formerly enormously abundant in the marshes and
savannas of Florida and other Gulf States, where they are still
common in winter. C. J. Pennock tells me that they are still
abundant all winter about St. Marks, Florida, his earliest and
latest dates being September 12 and May 10. Arthur T. Wayne (1910)
says that, in South Carolina, the snipe "are most abundant
during the months of February and March, and at that time
multitudes frequent the rice plantations, provided the water is
not too deep over the land." J. H. Bowles (1918) says that in
Washington "cold weather does not seem to bother them much.
On January 1, 1916, when all freshwater marshes were frozen over,
large numbers of them gathered on the Tacoma Flats." Mr.
Skinner writes to me that in Yellowstone Park they are found in
winter along creeks and rivers kept open by warm springs and on
ground overflowed by warm water from the hot springs.
Aiken and Warren (1914) tell of the winter habits of the Wilson
snipe, in El Paso County, Colorado, as follows:
Fountain Creek rarely freezes over entirely below its exit
from the mountains, and along its banks there are many places
where water that runs through the sand comes to the surface and
forms springy holes and marshy meadows which are warmer than
surface water. These become the winter feeding grounds for the
snipe and one or a pair often content themselves with a very small
area of muck. But at times of severe cold many of the smaller
holes freeze and then the snipe concentrate at places where a
larger flow of water keeps the holes open. On January 15, 1908,
with 6 inches of snow on the ground and below zero weather Aiken
visited a small beaver pond on the Skinner ranch 6 miles south of
Colorado Springs. A bit of marsh above the pond and a short
stretch of ooze along the outlet below remained open, and in this
small area of one-fourth of an acre were 25 to 30 snipe. Some
years ago a snipe was found running upon the ice when everything
in the vicinity was frozen solid. A few snipe winter along banks
of streams in the mountains.
That snipe know enough to protect themselves from the storms
may be illustrated by narrating here one of Aiken's experiences in
Utah about 20 years ago. He was beating a snipe marsh near one
edge of which extended a narrow arroyo or gully in which were some
trees and bushes. The weather had been fair until without warning
a heavy snow storm set in. At once snipe began to rise wildly from
different parts of the marsh and one after another directed their
flight toward the same point in the arroyo and dove between its
banks. Upon investigation 8 or 10 snipe were found together in a
little cave in the side of the arroyo that was partly hidden by
bushes so that they were well protected from any storm. We
conclude this was not the first time the snipe had resorted to
this friendly shelter since they knew so well where to go.
Common Snipe*
Gallinago gallinago
[Wilson Snipe]
*Original Source: Bent,
Arthur Cleveland. 1927. Smithsonian Institution United
States National Museum Bulletin 142 (Part 1): 81-98. United States
Government Printing Office
Return
to FAMILIAR BIRDS Home Page
Return to
beginning of document
|
