Fish-Hawk
Fish-Crow
Ring Plover
Least Snipe
A sort of superstition is entertained in regard to the fish hawk. It has been considered a fortunate incident to have a nest, and a pair of these birds, on one's farm. They have, therefore, been generally respected; and neither the axe nor the gun has been lifted against them. Their nest continues from year to year. The same couple, or another, as the case may be, occupies it, season after season. Repairs are duly made, or, when demolished by storms, it is industriously rebuilt.
Fish Crow
Their voice first attracted my notice, being very different from that of the common crow, more hoarse and guttural, uttered as if something stuck in their throat, and varied into several modulations as they flew along. Their manner of flying was also unlike the others, as they frequently sailed about, without flapping the wings, something in the manner of the raven; and I soon perceived that their food, and their mode of procuring it, were also both different: their favourite haunts being about the banks of the river, along which they usually sailed, dexterously snatching up, with their claws, dead fish, or other garbage, that floated on the surface.
Ringed Plover
The voice of these little birds, as they move along the sand, is soft and musical, consisting of a single plaintive note occasionally repeated. As you approach near their nests, they seem to court your attention, and, the moment they think you observe them, they spread out their wings and tail, dragging themselves along, and imitating the squeaking of young birds; if you turn from them, they immediately resume their proper posture, until they have again caught your eye, when they display the same attempts at deception as before.
