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T H E BLUE GROSBEAK.
FllINGILLA CCERULEA, BoNAP.
P L A T E C X X I I . M A L E , F E M A L E , and Y O U N O .
WHILE the Cardinal Grosbeak enlivens the neighbourhood of our
southern cities and villages, and frequents the lawn of the planter's habitation,
the present species, shy and bashful, retires to the borders of the
almost stagnant waters used as reservoirs for the purpose of irrigating the
rice plantations. There, where the alligator, basking sluggishly on the
miry pool, bellows forth its fearful cries, or in silence watches the timid
deer, as it approaches to immerse its body in order to free it from the attacks
of myriads of tormenting insects; where the watchful Heron stands
erect, silent, and ready to strike its slippery prey, or leisurely and gracefully
steps along the muddy margins; where baneful miasmata fill the
sultry air, now imbued with a virus almost sufficient to prostrate all other
beings save those whose nature enables them to remain in those damps;—
there you meet with the Ccerulean Grosbeak, timidly skipping from bush
to bush, or over and amid the luxuriant rice, watchful even of the movements
of the slave employed in cultivating the fertile soil. If the place
is silent, and the weather calm, this cautious bird gradually ascends some
high tree, from the top of which it pours forth its melting melodies, the
female sitting the while on her eggs in her grassy nest, in some low sheltered
bush hard by. Her mate now and then relieves her from her task,
provides her with food while she sits, and again lulls her to repose by his
song. One brood and again another are hatched, reared, and led forth to
find for themselves the food so abundantly spread around them. Humbly
and inconspicuously clad as the young birds are, most of them escape the
talon of the watchful Hawk, or the fire of the mischief-loving gunner.
The parents soon join them, and no sooner is their favourite rice gathered,
than the whole fly off, and gradually wend their way to warmer climes.
Although this sweet songster spends the spring and summer in our
Southern States, it must be considered as a rather scarce bird there. It
seldom enters deep woods, but prefers such low grounds as I have described
above, or the large and level abandoned fields covered with rank
grasses and patches of low bushes. It arrives in the lower parts of Lou-
B L U E GROSBEAK. 141
isiana about the middle of March, the males appearing eight or ten days
before the females, in small parties of five or six, when their common callnote,
a single chuck, is frequently uttered to attract the females. They
proceed through Alabama, Georgia, and the Carolinas, in all which districts
they breed. Beyond this, however, few are to be met with. I
never observed this species on the Mississippi farther up than the neighbourhood
of Natchez ; nor is it ever seen in Kentucky, or in any other
part of the western country. Along the Atlantic coast, it is rarely found
beyond the State of New Jersey.
It is remarkable that, although this bird seldom places its nest more
than a few feet from the ground, it is fond of ascending to the tops of the
tallest detached trees, to sing, during the spring and summer, rarely performing
that pleasant duty among the low bushes which it usually inhabits.
One or two pairs of these birds generally take possession of a field, for
the purpose of breeding, making choice of one little frequented by other
birds. There, in the most secluded part, the Blue Grosbeak builds its
nest, placing it in the upright fork of some small slender bush, or attaching
it to the tall blades of a tuft of rank grass. It is composed of fine
dried grasses, which are more carefully arranged towards the interior, and
is lined with a few delicate fibrous roots, dried moss, or horse-hair. There
are seldom more than four eggs, but two broods are raised in the season.
When the first broods leave their parents, the young birds assemble in
small flocks composed of a few families, and resort mostly to the rice
fields, feeding on the grain when yet in its milky state, and until it is gathered.
The parents join them with their second brood, and shortly after,
or about the first days of September, they all depart southward.
In the summer of 1829, I accidentally met with a nest of these birds
in the State of New Jersey, a few miles only from Philadelphia. I was
attracted towards it by the cries of the birds, both of which were perched
on a tall hickory tree, standing on a piece of barren ground, near a swamp
well known on account of the visits it receives during the Woodcock season.
I looked for the nest for some time in vain. The parents left the
tree, flew about as if much alarmed and distressed, and at last alighted
on the ground not far from me. Following them gradually, I saw them
go up to one of their young, and on reaching the place, saw the nest in a
low bush of the dogwood. In it were two young ones, dead, and covered
with large insects. Presently I heard the chirp of a fourth, which I found