# The Zoologist/4th series, vol 4 (1900)/Issue 708/Land Birds at Sea, Vaughan

Published in The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 4, issue 708 (June, 1900), p. 256–261
LAND BIRDS AT SEA.
By Lieut. Robert E. Vaughan, R.N.
The published notes in the 'Zoologist' under the above heading by Surgeon K. Hurlestone Jones, R.N. (ante, p. 51), and Mr. Malcolm Burr (ante, p. 144) greatly interested me, and have caused me to read up my own note-book and write a few words on the subject, more especially as I can add some fresh species to the list.
Dr. Hurlestone Jones mentions having recognized eleven species, while Mr. Burr makes mention of six. My list of land birds contains fourteen species, of which six have appeared in the two previous lists, and bring the total number under observation up to twenty-three.
My observations are of a recent date, extending from Sept. 10th to Oct. 16th, 1899, whilst travelling between Aden and Plymouth, and during the season of autumnal migration.
I happened to be returning to England from Australia in H.M.S. 'Royalist,' a small vessel, barque-rigged, and consequently supplied with numerous spars and ropes, which would form ample and convenient resting-places for any chance avian visitors, or passengers, as I may call some of them, seeing that a few remained on board for about a couple of days.
We left Sydney, Australia, on July 7th, and on the 8th, at sunset, a Noddy Tern (Anous stolidus) settled on one of the boats' davits and went to sleep, where I succeeded in capturing it. This is somewhat of a digression, but is worth recording. The Noddy is essentially a pelagic bird, which, being the case, I think makes its occurrence on board all the more noticeable, as it could have slept on the water in comfort, as the weather was fine. In fact, this is the first time during some years afloat that I have seen any sea bird settle on a vessel at sea, though when at anchor it is not unusual for some of the Laridæ to settle for a while.
​No other bird visited us till after we had left Aden, on Sept. 10th, and were entering the Red Sea on the 12th, when a Hoopoe (Upupa epops) arrived during the night, and was discovered at sunrise. The efforts of a sailor in trying to catch it frightened the bird away, and it failed to return.
Next day, Sept. 13th, a Golden Oriole (Oriolus galbula, female) arrived and settled on top of the awning. This time the sailor did catch it by the tail, which was all the bird left behind in the hands of the astonished tar, and O. galbula flew away southwards, steering a most ungainly and awkward course. No sooner had she gone than a Collared Turtle-Dove (Turtur risorius) arrived and settled on the jibboom, where it stayed till the afternoon, when it also flew off towards some land which was in sight.
The next afternoon, while I was on watch, a Greenfinch (Ligurinus chloris), flying across the Red Sea from east to west, flew in at one of our gunports, across the deck, and out through the opposite port, and was soon lost sight of. I consider this a most odd and unnecessary proceeding, and the bird acted as if it was being pursued by a Hawk, although no such bird was in sight.
Daybreak next morning revealed two Turtle-Doves (Turtur communis), which had, I suppose, been attracted during the night by our lights, and about 9 a.m. they were joined by three more, the whole party remaining with us for the day and sleeping at night, two in the maintop and three on the topsail yard. Next morning, Saturday, the 16th, three of our friends the Turtle-Doves had disappeared, and the remaining two stayed with us all that day, and did not leave till the following forenoon, when the weather, which had been a flat calm, changed, and a fresh breeze sprung up.
Although these two Turtle-Doves (presuming they were the same, an assumption that seems allowable) had been with us over fifty-six hours, they had nothing in the way of food. It causes one to wonder what are a bird's fasting capacities, especially on migration. I tried to tempt them with peas, &c, spread out on the awning, but they refused to come down from aloft.
This afternoon I noticed, through a telescope, a flock of between forty and fifty birds, which I believed to be Greenfinches (L. chloris); but they were rather brightly coloured, and may ​have been the African variety of this bird (or the Ligurinus aurantiiventris of the followers of Dr. Cabanis). They were flying in the same direction as the Finch previously mentioned, very low, only about two feet above the water. This was the only flock of any species I saw during the five weeks I was observing land birds.
Later in the afternoon a Quail (Coturnix communis) flew on board and settled on the nettings (or bulwarks, as they are called by landsmen). A marine tried to catch it, but it rose, and flying round the ship settled again in the same place. Then another attempt was made, with the same result; and seven times did this bird settle on its originally selected spot, only to be stalked by various members of the crew, who tried to catch it with their caps, &c. After trying an eighth time to settle, it changed its mind and eventually flew away. I don't know why the bird should have persistently chosen to settle on the same spot each time and meet with the same welcome, considering the ship was over two hundred feet long and there were many more comfortable and secluded spots where it would have been out of sight of everyone.
On getting into the Gulf of Suez next day at about 4 p.m., we were visited by three representatives of the family Hirundinidæ, and Her Majesty's Government that night provided well-aired lodgings, free, for three Swallows (Hirundo rustica), one House-Martin (Chelidon urbica), and three Sand-Martins (Cotile riparia). One of the latter and one of the former were caught and brought to me. The Swallow, when released, began to twitter; and I may say of all the birds I saw during our passage home this was the only one that uttered a note of any sort. The silence of our bird visitors (although they were not representatives of our most garrulous British species) was most apparent, and I cannot understand why it was they should all have been mute.
At the entrance to the Canal we were met by an Egyptian Vulture (Neophron percnopterus), who escorted and saw us safely into the Bitter Lake, although he did not perch on board. After he left, a Willow Wren (Phylloscopus trochilus) flew on board. A most restless little bird it was, flying all over the ship and creeping about the ropes, where, finding nothing in the way of insect life or refreshment, it left us at Ismailia.
​We did not receive another visitor till three days out from Port Said, on 23rd September, when a Wheatear (Saxicola œnanthe) came to tea and slept the night. Next morning another had arrived, and a little later a Redstart (Ruticilla phœnicurus) put in an appearance. The Wheatears left in the afternoon for the south-east, and the Redstart made itself quite at home on one of the guns. It so happened that a sailor was turning out his "bag" (which is a nautical receptacle for clothes), and the ship during her twelve years in Australia had collected a very fine breed of Cockroaches. As the sailor was shaking out a jumper a Cockroach was jerked out on to the deck in front of the Redstart, who pounced down and greedily devoured it. That started half the crew Cockroach-catching, in which I joined myself, and there never was a pampered bird so banqueted before. I gave it eleven, and it was fed till dark; the capacity of its stomach was truly remarkable.
During the night our ship's terrier caught a small bird, which I believe was a Whitethroat from an examination of the chewed remains in the morning.
On sighting Malta, our friendly Redstart left us and flew away, not towards the land, but in a southerly direction towards the African coast; so I imagine the Redstart did not perch on board us for the sole purpose of resting, but had lost its way, and on its seeing Malta it recognised a landmark in the route southwards, and proceeded on its migratory course. The weather was fine all the way from Suez.
I never sighted another land bird till we were forty miles off the Land's End, when, in a strong north-easterly gale on Oct. 15th, a Song Thrush (Turdus musicus) flew on board. I never saw a more slovenly untidy bird, but as it was the first to welcome me home after an absence of five years from England, I forgave it its slatternly appearance. It didn't stay long, and, after trying vainly to fly to windward, turned tail, and was blown away on a course which would have eventually landed it in South America. Earlier in the morning I had seen a Duck (sp. inc.) very high up and flying very fast towards Ushant; but I can hardly include this in the list, as I failed to recognise the species. That completes my list of birds, and H.M.S. 'Royalist' arrived next day at Falmouth.
​On reviewing the three lists I find the Turtle Dove (T. communis) appears in all three, and as I have observed it on a previous occasion, it seems to be quite a common visitor, and one feels inclined to wonder if it is gifted with insufficient powers of flight to cope with the great strain put on the species at this period of the year.
The same remark certainly cannot apply to the Hirundinidæ, yet they appear on my list and Dr. Hurlestone Jones's, and I can remember in 1893 catching three Swallows (H. rustica) in April when serving as a middy in H.M.S. 'Calypso.' Unfortunately I did not keep a note-book in those days, but we were somewhere between the Land's End and the south of the Irish coast. By the way, the Wheatear appears on all three of our lists.
Why do birds settle on ships—that is the question? One reason undoubtedly is the attraction of lights at night, especially the powerful white light which all steam vessels carry. For example:—One night, when off the Australian coast, a Red-tailed Tropic bird (Phaëthon rubricauda, Bodd) flew up against the mast this light was on, and, having stunned itself, fell on to the deck, where I picked it up, and skinned it. Its two long tail feathers were fortunately undamaged.
During autumn a vessel steering north in the Red Sea, where most of the birds on my list were observed, would meet, and attract, birds flying in a southerly direction. Several birds I have mentioned arrived and perched during the night.
But what about the daytime? In some cases, notably that of the Turtle-Doves, land was in sight all day, yet they did not leave us. The Red Sea is no great distance across at its widest part, and is well provided with littoral islands, offering many resting-places where the birds would be free from molestation. The only really weary wayfarer was the Quail, which appeared completely fatigued, and only rose at the last moment to avert capture.
In the Suez Canal, for example, the Willow Wren must have visited us out of pure curiosity, as it left a green and favourable-looking locality to perch on board.
The silence of birds on board I have already touched on, also the question of hunger.
​As some of your readers are afloat, I appeal to them to make use of the ample opportunities that occur, principally in spring and autumn, for studying land birds that come on board. Some annotated observations on them re the two above-mentioned points would, I am sure, be of interest.
The majority of vessels in the navy now having merely pole masts and nothing in the way of rigging, but plenty in the way of funnels and ventilators, fail to offer the perching attractions that a masted vessel does.
When one starts discussing birds, the subject is so interesting that it can be spun out to an indefinite length, and the points in their economy that are after all only slightly known are many. I only hope that in writing these few notes and observations I have not wearied the patience of the reader.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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