THE BIRDS OF THE BERMUDAS.
By Lieut. Reid, R.E., F.Z.S.[1]
Ortyx virginianus, Virginian Partridge or Quail.—This bird, known to us on this side of the Atlantic as a comparatively recent introduction, under the name of Virginian "Colin," is the gamebird of Bermuda; but whether it originally found its way there from the American continent without the agency of man is doubtful. It is not mentioned by the old historians. It is certain, however, that, though common some h years previous to 1840, it became extinct in the islands from that year till 1858 or 1859, when, thanks to the enterprise of Mr. Richard Darrell, an importation took place from the United States. Several pairs were turned out, and these, increasing rapidly, soon spread over the islands to such an extent that the species may now once more be considered common. The manners and customs of this handsome bird are too well known for me to venture on details. From my notes, however, I extract the following, which may prove of interest. It is extremely prolific. Mr. Samuel Harvey told me of a nest near his garden containing eighteen eggs, every one of which hatched off; there are seldom less than twelve eggs in a nest; they sit in the cedar trees on wet days, and during the mid- day heat, roosting there at night. When once flushed they are very hard to put up a second time, even with good dogs, being able, according to popular superstition, to conceal their scent at will; they run rapidly, and squat closely in the thick sage-bush, the strong smell of which is calculated to puzzle a dog. Their call-note is triple, "hoo-woo-wooit," the "hoo" indistinct and audible for a short distance only. I don't think "Bob-White," the familiar American name, fairly represents the call; it is too sharp and well-defined. These birds are fond of the ripe berries of the sage and cedar; the latter give the flesh a decidedly unpleasant aromatic flavour. They also eat the sweet potatoes in small pieces. Great numbers of the young are destroyed by the swarm of cats which infest the islands. An old "coloured" lady once accosted a gallant officer of the 53rd Regiment, who was beating some likely ground near her cottage, and asked him what he was looking for. "Partridges!" cried she, with a sneer on her sable features, "I don't want a gun to get them. Why! my cat brings me in one every
- ↑ Concluded from p. 424.
