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Visual Experience
OXFORD PHILOSOPHICAL MONOGRAPHS
Editorial Committee
WILLIAM CHILD R. S. CRISP A. W. MOORE

STEPHEN MULHALL CHRISTOPHER G. TIMPSON
OTHER TITLES IN THIS SERIES INCLUDE
Discrimination and Disrespect

Benjamin Eidelson
Knowing Better:
Virtue, Deliberation, and Normative Ethics
Daniel Star
Potentiality and Possibility: A Dispositional
Account of Metaphysical Modality
Barbara Vetter
Moral Reason
Julia Markovits
Category Mistakes
Ofra Magidor
The Critical Imagination
James Grant
From Morality to Metaphysics: The Theistic Implications of our Ethical
Commitments
Angus Ritchie
Aquinas on Friendship
Daniel Schwartz
The Brute Within: Appetitive Desire in Plato and Aristotle
Hendrik Lorenz
Visual Experience
A Semantic Approach
Wylie Breckenridge
1
3
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For Tim
Contents
Acknowledgements ix
1. The Project 1
2. A Simple Character 16
3. Ways of Looking 36
4. The Mechanism 49
5. Syntactic Details 70
6. Implicit Domain Restriction 76
7. Concepts and Discrimination 86
8. Other ‘Look’ Sentences 97
9. Other Characters 115
10. The Many Property Problem 125
11. Explaining Phenomena 138
References 157
Index 163
Acknowledgements
This book is the culmination of work that I first started in my B.Phil.

and D.Phil. theses at Oxford, many years ago. Timothy Williamson
was my supervisor. I wanted a topic that would be difficult but
worthwhile, and Tim suggested the semantics of ‘look’ sentences.
I went with it. It certainly has been difficult; I hope that it has been
worthwhile. I owe a great deal of thanks to Tim. He had the wisdom
to let me think things through by myself, and make mistakes, but then
expect and help me to do better. He was confident that I could do
things well, and that kept me going through some tough times. The
book is dedicated to him.
My D.Phil. thesis was also partly supervised by Stephen Pulman,
in the Faculty of Linguistics. Stephen was very patient and generous
with his time, and I learned a lot about formal semantics from him.
I spent countless hours thrashing out ideas with my fellow graduate
students, in particular with Richard Price, Sarah Moss, Ofra Magidor,
Stephen Kearns, Nico Silins, Anders Nes, and Susanna Schellenberg.
The thesis was examined by John Hawthorne and Bill Brewer. They
encouraged me to develop it into a book; without that encouragement
I never would have.
After Oxford I worked on the book during a Mellon Postdoctoral
Fellowship at Cornell. The philosophy department was a great place
to discuss ideas; I benefited, in particular, from discussions with
David Liebesman, Nico Silins, Stephen Kearns, Christy Mag Uidhir,
and Susanna Siegel (when she came to visit). I spent a lot of time
hanging out with the linguists at Cornell, especially Mats Rooth, Dorit
Abusch, and Sally McConnell-Ginet. They expanded my then very
limited understanding of how language works.
The bulk of the book was written after I left Cornell and took up a
position at Charles Sturt University. We have a small but very lively
group of philosophers at CSU, and the university largely leaves us
x ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
alone to explore ideas, free from pressure. Daniel Cohen and Morgan
Luck have been my chief sounding boards for several years. Having to
explain the semantics of ‘look’ sentences to these two non-specialists,
and then defend my theory against their insistent and insightful
criticisms, has made the book much better. Elsewhere in Australia,
David Chalmers has been very supportive of my work, arranging
for me to speak at several conferences, and I’ve had many helpful
conversations with Michaelis Michael.
Peter Momtchiloff has been an extremely patient editor—the book
is many years overdue, but he never gave up on me.
Finally, thanks to my parents, Marj and Col. They support every-
thing that I do, without question, and without limit.
1
The Project
1.1. Visual Experiences and their Characters

This book is about visual experience. Visual experience is a common
phenomenon and one that is very familiar to us. When you look at
the patch below you have a visual experience of the patch—the patch
looks some way to you; there is something that the patch is like for
you visually. If you close your eyes then you stop having a visual
experience of the patch—there is no way that the patch looks to you;
there is nothing that the patch is like for you visually (you might even
stop having a visual experience altogether).
In particular, I am interested in the ‘what it is like’ of a visual

experience, typically called its phenomenal character, or just its char-
acter for short. To get a better idea of what I am talking about,
compare your visual experience of the patch above with your visual
experiences of the patches below:
Your visual experience of the top patch has exactly the same character
as your visual experience of the left-most bottom patch, but a differ-
ent character from your visual experiences of the other three bottom
patches. We might describe the differences this way: the character of
 THE PROJECT
your visual experience of the top patch differs from the character
of your visual experience of the second bottom patch with respect to
colour (I will assume that shades of grey are colours); it differs from
the character of your visual experience of the third bottom patch with
respect to shape; and it differs from the character of your visual
experience of the fourth bottom patch with respect to both colour
and shape. As well as these differences there are also some similarities.
We might describe the similarities this way: the character of your
visual experience of the top patch is the same as the character of
your visual experience of the second bottom patch with respect to
shape, and it is the same as the character of your visual experience of
the third bottom patch with respect to colour.
I should emphasize two things. First, I am interested in visual experi-
ence (i.e. things looking some way to us), which may not be the same
thing as visual perception (i.e. our seeing things). Although the two
typically co-occur, there are reasons to think that they are distinct—
that visually experiencing is distinct from visually perceiving. One
reason is the possibility of blind sight: cases in which a person does not
have a visual experience but sees (Weiskrantz (1986)). Another reason is
the possibility of hallucination: cases in which a person has a visual
experience but does not see. If there are cases of blind sight or hallucin-
ation, or at least if there can be such cases, then visually experiencing
is distinct from seeing. Perhaps there can’t be such cases, and visually
experiencing is identical to seeing. But I will allow that they are distinct.
Second, I will only consider visual experience in this book. Other
kinds of experience (tactile, olfactory, etc.) are also interesting, and
I suspect that much of what I have to say about visual experience
applies to those as well. But I will not consider them in this book.
1.2. My Aim
I am interested in the character of a visual experience: what kind of
thing is it? What is involved in having a visual experience with a
certain character? For definiteness I will focus on answering the
following question, for any character c:
THE PROJECT 
What is it to have a visual experience with character c?

This is a difficult question to answer. To get a feel for why, consider
the character of your visual experience of the patch below. Let’s call
the patch ‘p’.
It might initially seem that the character of your visual experience of

p is an intrinsic property of p. Evidence for this comes from the fact
that when you try to attend more closely to the character of your
experience you end up attending more closely to p itself (this phe-
nomenon is sometimes called the transparency of experience—more
about this in Chapter 11). Moreover, compare your visual experience
of p with your visual experience of the patch below; call this patch ‘p0 ’.
Your experience of p and your experience of p0 have different char-
acters, and that difference seems to be a difference in the patches
themselves—they seem to differ intrinsically.
But there are reasons to think that the character of your visual experi-
ence of p is not an intrinsic property of p. One reason is that different
visual experiences of p might have different characters, even though
p itself is intrinsically the same in all respects across the experiences.
Imagine changing your lighting conditions in such a way that your
visual experience of p has a different character, in fact the same
character as your visual experience of p0 . Then there is a change in
the character of your visual experience of p with no intrinsic change
to p itself—just a change in the lighting conditions. So the character of
your visual experience of p cannot be an intrinsic property of p.
Actually, the reasoning in the previous paragraph makes an
assumption that not everyone would accept, at least not without
more careful thought—that the character of these two visual
 THE PROJECT
experiences of p either is an intrinsic property of p in both experi-

ences or is an intrinsic property of p in neither (I’m thinking of
disjunctivists—see Hinton (1967a, 1967b, 1973), Snowdon (1980),
McDowell (1982, 1987, 1994), and Martin (2002, 2003)). If this
assumption is false then it could be that the character of one of
these two experiences of p is an intrinsic property of p, while the
character of the other experience of p is not an intrinsic property of p,
which allows that the two experiences can differ in character even
though there is no intrinsic difference in p. But then we still have at
least one of the two visual experiences of p with a character that is not
an intrinsic property of p, and so we still have the question of what
the character is in this case. Let’s suppose that it is the character of
your original visual experience of p that is not an intrinsic property
of p (nothing depends on this—we could equally well suppose that it
is the other).
So the character of your visual experience of p is not an intrinsic
property of p. Perhaps it is an intrinsic property of the light rays that
are striking your eyes?
There are reasons to think that this is not right either. Suppose that
someone other than you is looking at p under the same lighting
conditions as you, so that the light rays that are striking her eyes
are intrinsically the same as the light rays that are striking your eyes
(I mean: the light rays are qualitatively identical, not numerically
identical). And suppose that she has a vision condition, one such
that her visual experience of p has a character that is different from
your visual experience of p (suppose that she is colour blind). Now
there is a difference between the characters of your visual experiences
with no intrinsic difference between the light rays that are striking
your eyes. So in at least one of the two cases the character of the visual
experience is not an intrinsic property of the light rays that are
striking the experiencer’s eyes. Let’s suppose that it is the character
of your visual experience of p (again, nothing depends on this).
At this point I will identify three main kinds of theory, which
I will call sense-datum theories, adverbial theories, and representa-
tional theories.
THE PROJECT 
According to sense-datum theories, the character of your visual

experience of p is an intrinsic property of a certain mental thing of
yours, traditionally called a sense-datum. Your visual experience
of p involves a sense-datum of yours that has a certain intrinsic
property—this property is the character of your visual experience
of p. The colour-blind person’s visual experience of p involves a
sense-datum of hers that has a different intrinsic property—this
property is the character of her visual experience of p. This allows
that your visual experiences can have different characters even
though there is no intrinsic difference between either p or the light
rays that are striking your eyes. Different sense-datum theories say
different things about the nature of your sense-datum and its con-
nection (if any) with p. According to some theories the sense-datum
is mind-dependent; according to others it is mind-independent.
According to some theories p is an external object, one that you
experience by being related to your sense-datum (a position some-
times called indirect realism); according to others p is an external
object, but one that you do not experience at all. According to some
theories p is not an external object at all—it is merely a complex of
sense-data (a position sometimes called phenomenalism). (For more
about sense-datum theories see Moore (1903, 1922), Russell (1912),
Broad (1923, 1925), Price (1932), Ayer (1956), Jackson (1977),
O’Shaughnessy (1980, 2003), Casullo (1987), Lowe (1992), Robinson
(1994), Foster (2000), and Garcia-Carpintero (2001).)
According to adverbial theories, the character of your visual experi-
ence of p is a way (or manner) in which your visual experience of p is
occurring. (They are called ‘adverbial’ theories because we typically talk
about ways of occurring using adverbs such as ‘clumsily’ or ‘proudly’.)
Your visual experience of p is occurring in a certain way—this is the
character of your visual experience of p. The colour-blind person’s
visual experience of p is occurring in a different way—this is the
character of her visual experience of p. It is hoped that ways of occurring
are such that your visual experiences can occur in different ways (and
thus have different characters) even if there is no intrinsic difference
between either p or the light rays that are striking your eyes. (For more
 THE PROJECT
about adverbial theories see Ducasse (1942), Chisholm (1957, pp. 115–25,
1976, pp. 46–52), Aune (1967a, pp. 129–33 & 147–8, 1967b), Cornman
(1971, pp. 178 & 185–90), Sellars (1963, pp. 215–74, 1968, pp. 9–28 &
167–8, 1975), Tye (1975, 1984, 1989), and Jackson (1977).)
According to representational theories, your visual experience of
p has representational content (it represents the world to be a certain
way), and the character of your visual experience of p is somehow
connected with this content. There are at least two ways of spelling
out the connection. According to the first way of spelling it out, the
character of your visual experience of p is part of the content of your
experience—it is a property that your experience represents, a prop-
erty that is represented by your experience. Your visual experience
of p represents a certain property (e.g. the property of being light
grey)—this represented property is the character of your visual
experience of p. The colour-blind person’s experience of p represents
a different property (e.g. the property of being dark grey)—this
represented property is the character of her visual experience of p.
It is hoped that your visual experiences can represent different
properties (and thus have different characters) even if there is no
intrinsic difference between either p or the light rays that are
striking your eyes. According to the second way of spelling out the
connection, the character of your visual experience of p is a property
of your visual experience that does the representing—a property that
has representational content. Your visual experience of p has a certain
property that represents a certain thing (e.g. the property of being
light grey)—this representing property is the character of your visual
experience of p. The colour-blind person’s experience of p has a
different property that represents a certain thing (e.g. the property
of being dark grey)—this representing property is the character of her
visual experience of p. It is hoped that your visual experiences can
have different representational properties (and thus have different
characters) even if there is no intrinsic difference between either p or
the light rays that are striking your eyes. (For more about represen-
tational theories see Anscombe (1965), Armstrong (1968), Dretske
(1969, 1995), Peacocke (1983, 1993), Pitcher (1970), Harman (1990),
Tye (1992, 1995, 2000), Lycan (1996), and Byrne (2001).)
THE PROJECT 
I have just described (very briefly) three of the main kinds of theory
that have been developed to answer the question of what it is for a
visual experience to have a certain character. I will not at the outset
try to defend a particular one of these theories, nor try to defend
any other particular theory. Rather, I will adopt a certain approach
to answering the question and see where it leads. (It leads to an
adverbial theory.)
Note that my characterization of these three kinds of theory does
not make them mutually exclusive. It allows, for example, that an
adverbial theory can also be a representational theory. Suppose a theory
says that the character of your visual experience of p is a way in which
your visual experience is occurring. Then it is an adverbial theory.
But suppose this way of occurring is a representational property, and
that for your visual experience to occur in this way is for it to have this
representational property. Then the theory is also a representational
theory. My approach leads to an adverbial theory (it gets that far fairly
quickly, by the end of Chapter 2). Is it also a representational theory?
I think not. I explain why at the end of Chapter 11.
1.3. My Approach
My aim in this book is to answer the following question, for any
character c:
What is it to have a visual experience with character c?
To answer this question I will take what I call a semantic approach.
The idea is this: we can better understand what it is for you to have a
visual experience with character c by better understanding what we
mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’.
How could this help? Because of the following fact: what it is for
you to have a visual experience with character c is for whatever it is
that we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’ to be
the case. This is why we can better understand what it is for you to
have a visual experience with character c by better understanding
what we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’.
 THE PROJECT
Suppose that by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’ we

mean so-and-so; then for you to have a visual experience with
character c is for so-and-so to be the case, because that is what we
mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’. Suppose we
mean that you stand in a certain relation, R, to a certain particular, b;
then for you to have a visual experience with character c is for you
to stand in R to b, because what we mean by ‘you have a visual
experience with character c’ is that you stand in R to b.
A certain misunderstanding might make this idea seem more
controversial than it is. The claim is about what it is for you to have
a visual experience with character c—it is not about whether or not
you actually do have a visual experience with character c. From the
fact that by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’ we mean
so-and-so it follows that for you to have a visual experience with
character c is for so-and-so to be the case; it does not follow that
so-and-so actually is the case. It would follow with an extra premise:
that ‘you have a visual experience with character c’ is true, but without
this extra premise it does not follow. There is a tighter connection
between what we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with char-
acter c’ and what it is for you to have a visual experience with
character c, than there is between what we mean by ‘you have a
visual experience with character c’ and whether or not you have
a visual experience with character c.
You might grant that this approach can help in principle but be
sceptical about whether it can help in practice. I think that it can help
in practice, and I hope that this book shows that. But I’ll say a few
things here to give some initial support for the idea.
Start by considering the following question: what is it for l’herbe
être verte? I do not know what it is for l’herbe être verte. My problem
is that I do not understand what people mean by ‘l’herbe être verte’.
Actually, I do understand it somewhat—I recognize that it is a French
expression, and I know that ‘verte’ in French means green. So
I understand that what it is for l’herbe être verte’ has something to
do with the colour green. I can better understand what it is for l’herbe
être verte by better understanding what people mean by ‘l’herbe
THE PROJECT 
être verte’. I’m told that by ‘l’herbe être verte’ people mean ‘grass to
be green’. So, for l’herbe être verte is for grass to be green. Now
I better understand what it is for l’herbe être verte (it is for grass to
be green), and I came to better understand it by better understanding
what people mean by ‘l’herbe être verte’.
This example might seem irrelevant, because it involves an expres-
sion that I do not understand. But I do understand ‘you have a visual
experience with character c’ (as my competent use of it so far in this
chapter shows), so how can I better understand what it is for you to
have a visual experience with character c by better understanding
what we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’,
given that I already understand what we mean by it?
My response is this: although I might judge myself to understand
what we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’, and
although I might be a competent user of the sentence, I might not
fully understand it, or my understanding of it might not be fully
explicit, in which case there is some clarification to be done.
Here is an example. For a long time I have taken myself to
understand what we mean by ‘John kissed Mary’, and I have been a
competent user of the sentence. But it was not until I read Donald
Davidson’s ‘On the Logical Form of Action Sentences’ that I realized
that we use this sentence to quantify over events (we use the sentence
to mean that there is an event which is a kissing and is in the past and
is by John and is of Mary). Perhaps I didn’t understand this before
reading Davidson, or perhaps I did but only implicitly. Either way,
I did not understand it explicitly, but after reading Davidson I did.
Perhaps, in the same way, there are things about what we mean by
‘you have a visual experience with character c’ that I do not yet
understand, at least not explicitly.
Here is another example. I am a competent user of ‘The average
Australian family has 2.2 children’, and until recently I have taken
myself to understand what we mean by it. But now, having thought
about it, I’m not sure that I fully understand what we mean by it, at
least not fully explicitly. There are, for example, two things that we
might mean by this sentence, and I’m not sure which one of these two
 THE PROJECT
things we actually mean. First, we might mean that the average number
of children in Australian families is 2.2 (and the sentence that we
use is just another way of saying this). Second, we might mean that
a certain thing, the average Australian family, has 2.2 children (pre-
sumably if we mean this then we hope to communicate something
that is true by expressing something that is, strictly speaking, false).
I’m not sure which of these two things it is that we mean. I’m not even
sure whether these are distinct meanings. On the face of it they are—
the latter is committed to there being a thing that has 2.2 children (i.e.
the sentence is true only if there is this thing), whereas the former is
not. But that’s just on the face of it. There is room here to better
understand, at least more explicitly, what we mean by ‘The average
Australian family has 2.2 children’. Perhaps, in the same way, there is
room to better understand, at least more explicitly, what we mean by
‘you have a visual experience with character c’.
Suppose that we do not fully understand, at least not explicitly,
what we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’.
How can we get a fuller or more explicit understanding?
One technique that I use in this book is to appeal to compositionality.
What we mean by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’
is composed from what we mean by the constituents of the sen-
tence (so I will assume). That fact by itself might not be much help.
But suppose there is a constituent of the sentence that we use with
exactly the same meaning in other sentences. And suppose that
we have a reasonably full and explicit understanding of what we
mean by the constituent in those sentences. Then this might give
us a fuller or more explicit understanding of what we mean by the
constituent in ‘you have a visual experience with character c’, and thus
a fuller or more explicit understanding of what we mean by the
sentence itself.
One problem with this is that there aren’t really any such constitu-
ents of ‘you have a visual experience with character c’—the language
employed here is quite technical, and if we do use any of the con-
stituents in other sentences then our understanding of them there
is no better than our understanding of them in this sentence.
THE PROJECT 
Fortunately, there are other ways of saying that you have a visual
experience with character c, ways that employ more everyday lan-
guage. Consider again the patch in Section 1.1. Here is another way of
saying that you have a visual experience of the patch with character c:
the patch looks grey to you (I take there to be a reading of this
sentence on which we are saying the same thing; I’ll say more about
this in Chapter 2). Given this, we can better understand what it is for
you to have a visual experience of the patch with character c by better
understanding what we mean by ‘the patch looks grey to you’.
Now we can make some progress. Consider the constituent ‘grey’.
There is evidence that what we mean by ‘grey’ in ‘The patch looks
grey to you’ is the very same thing that we mean by ‘grey’ in ‘The
patch is grey’ (I give the details in Chapter 2). We have a good explicit
understanding of what we mean by ‘grey’ in the ‘The patch is grey’—
we mean the property of being grey. So by ‘grey’ in the former we also
mean the property of being grey. So what we mean by ‘The patch
looks grey to you’ has something to do with the property of being
grey. So what it is for the patch to look grey to you has something to
do with the property of being grey, and so what it is for you to have a
visual experience of the patch with character c has something to do
with the property of being grey. There is also evidence that we use
‘grey’ in ‘The patch looks grey to you’ to mean a way, and that the way
that we mean is not the property of being grey (again, I give the details
in Chapter 2). So what we mean by ‘grey’ in ‘The patch looks grey to
you’ is a way that is not the property of being grey but is somehow
connected with the property of being grey. Moreover, what we mean
by ‘The patch looks grey to you’ has something to do with this way, so
what it is for the patch to look grey to you has something to do with
this way, and so what it is for you to have a visual experience of the
patch with character c has something to do with this way. Continuing
in this manner we can get a better (explicit) understanding of what we
mean by ‘The patch looks grey to you’, and thus of what it is for the
patch to look grey to you, and thus of what it is for you to have a
visual experience of the patch with this character (I give the details
in Chapters 2 to 7).
 THE PROJECT
There are other ways of saying that you have a visual experience of
the patch with character c, using sentences other than ‘look’ sentences:
What is it for you to visually experience the patch as grey?
What is it for you to have a visual experience of the patch as of grey?
What is it for you to see the patch as grey?
We might be able to better understand what it is for you to have a
visual experience of the patch with character c by better understand-
ing what we mean by any of these sentences instead. But I will focus
on ‘look’ sentences, for three main reasons. First, we can use ‘look’
sentences to describe a very wide variety of visual experiences (in fact,
I don’t know of any visual experience that we cannot use a ‘look’
sentence to describe). Second, ‘look’ sentences are a part of natural,
commonly used, non-philosophical language, so it is likely that we
have a reasonably good implicit understanding of what we mean by
them, an understanding that we might be able to make explicit. Third,
the ‘look’ sentences that we use to talk about visual experience have
constituents that we use with the very same meaning in sentences that
we use to talk about other phenomena, and whose meaning in those
sentences we have a reasonably good explicit understanding of.
1.4. Terminology
I will be clarifying, for various sentences s, what we mean by sentence
s. By ‘what we mean by sentence s’ I mean what we, as a community
of speakers, generally mean by s. Sometimes what an individual
speaker means by a sentence might be different from what the
community as a whole means by that sentence (perhaps because she
misunderstands the sentence, or perhaps because she understands
it but intends to use it in a different way). But I take it that there
are general facts about what we mean by a sentence, and these are
the facts in which I am interested.
I take it that a sentence means whatever we generally use it to
mean: if it is true that we generally use s to mean m, then it is thereby
true that s itself means m (I will not argue for this here). So my
THE PROJECT 
interest in what we mean by a sentence is equally an interest in what

the sentence itself means. What I will be doing, then, can be stated in
either of the following two ways: clarifying what we mean by various
sentences, or clarifying what various sentences mean. I will use this
terminology interchangeably.
Similar comments apply to any sub-sentential constituents of a
sentence. As part of clarifying what we mean by a sentence I will be
clarifying what we mean by its constituents. By ‘what we mean by its
constituents’ I mean what we generally mean by those constituents.
I take it that there are general facts about what we mean by those
constituents, and that a constituent c of a sentence s means whatever
we generally use c in s to mean: if it is true that we generally use c in s to
mean m, then it is thereby true that c in s itself means m. So my interest
in what we mean by the constituents of a sentence is equally an interest
in what those constituents themselves mean in that sentence.
I will be talking about what a speaker S means by a sentence s on
an occasion of use. There are at least two things to which I might be
referring here, so I need to clarify which it is. Suppose that I use the
sentence ‘Water is wet’ to assert that water is wet. What did I mean by
the sentence ‘Water is wet’? On one understanding of ‘what I meant’,
I meant that water is wet but not that H20 is wet—the mode of
presentation matters. On another understanding I meant that water
is wet and also that H20 is wet—the mode of presentation does not
matter, as long as the truth conditions are the same. It is in this
second way that I intend to be understood. Did I mean that H20 is wet
and 1 + 1 = 2? No, even though these have the same truth conditions.
Having the same truth conditions is necessary but not sufficient for
meaning the same thing. Many people working in the philosophy of
language would prefer to talk about ‘the proposition that the speaker
semantically expresses on that occasion’, or ‘the content of s relative
to that context’, or ‘what S asserts by uttering s on that occasion’, or
‘the truth conditions intuitively conveyed by the utterance’, or one of
various other alternatives. I find these ways of talking much less clear,
so much so that I can only understand this way of talking by
translating it into talk about what S means by s.
 THE PROJECT
Some might be concerned that there are other things that I might
mean by the sentence. What if I say that water is wet in order to get you
to pass me some water? That is, in order to implicate (in the Gricean
sense) that you should pass me some water. Some will want to say that
I meant that you should pass me some water. If that is some other thing
that counts as something that I meant by the sentence then I should
clarify: it is not what I am referring to. But I’m not sure that it is
something that I meant by the sentence. I agree that this is something
that I meant when I assertively uttered ‘Water is wet’, but not that it is
something that I meant by the sentence. Rather, it is something that
I meant by uttering the sentence (or by saying what I did), and the
sentence and my uttering of the sentence are distinct things (one is a
sentence, one is an act). It is not by ‘Water is wet’ that I meant that you
should pass me some water—it was by saying that water is wet that
I meant that you should pass me some water. If in response to my
uttering ‘Water is wet’ you ask me what I meant by that, seeking to
clarify what I was implicating, then you are not using ‘that’ to refer to the
sentence that I uttered, but to my act of uttering it.
Again, similar comments apply to sub-sentential constituents of
a sentence. I shall be talking about what a speaker S means by a
constituent c of a sentence s on an occasion of use. In more popular
terminology, I mean the content of c relative to that context: when
S assertively utters the sentence s she expresses a proposition, and
by uttering c she expresses a constituent of that proposition—this is
the content of c relative to the context. Again, I find it clearer to talk
about what the speaker means by c on this occasion, and this is the
terminology that I shall use throughout. If need be, everything that
I say can be translated into the more popular (but, in my opinion,
often more confusing) technical language.
1.5. The Plan for the Book

As I have said, my aim in this book is to answer the following
question, for any character c: what is it to have a visual experience
with character c?
THE PROJECT 
I start (Chapters 2 to 8) by trying to answer this question for a very

simple character—the colour character of your visual experience of
the patch p. I call this character ‘c1’. What is it to have a visual
experience with character c1? I consider the following slightly differ-
ent question first: what is it for you to have a visual experience of the
patch with character c1? And I ask this question using the following
‘look’ sentence: what is it for the patch to look grey to you? I then try
to better understand what we mean by ‘The patch looks grey to you’,
thereby better understanding what it is for the patch to look grey to
you, thereby better understanding what it is for you to have a visual
experience of the patch with character c1.
I argue that by ‘The patch looks grey to you’ we mean that you have
a visual experience that is occurring in a certain way. So this is what it
is for you to have a visual experience of the patch with character c1.
Generalizing from this I conclude that to have a visual experience
with character c1 is to have a visual experience that is occurring in a
certain way. I thus arrive at an answer to my main question for one
particular character.
Perhaps this result is enough to conclude that for any character c,
to have a visual experience with character c is to have a visual
experience that is occurring in a certain way. But it would be nice
to check. So, I consider some other characters and apply the same
techniques (Chapter 9). In each case I arrive at the same result: that to
have a visual experience with a certain character is to have a visual
experience that is occurring in a certain way. I thus get an answer to
my main question.
I end up with an adverbial theory of visual experience. I finish
(Chapters 10 and 11) by considering some traditional challenges for
adverbial theories, and consider the extent to which the theory that
I develop can meet those challenges. And I consider some phenom-
ena that a theory of visual experience ought to be able to explain, and
consider the extent to which the theory that I develop can explain
those phenomena.
Scattered throughout are some discussions of various metaphysical
and linguistic questions that arise along the way.
2
A Simple Character
My aim in this book is to answer the following question, for any

character c: what is it to have a visual experience with character c?
Although I would like an answer to this question for any character c,
I will start by trying to answer it for one particularly simple character.
I consider this character for Chapters 1–8. I consider other characters
in Chapter 9.
2.1. A Starting Character

I will start by trying to answer this question for the following simple
character—the character of your visual experience of the patch below:
Actually, even this character is more complicated than I would like to

start with. It is more complicated because you can see the edges of the
patch, which means that your visual experience of the patch has what
we might call a ‘shape character’, in addition to what we might call a
‘colour character’. I want to focus on just the colour character of your
visual experience of the patch. To clarify what I am referring to here,
imagine making the patch bigger, so big that you cannot see its edges
or anything other than the patch—all that you can see is what we
might call ‘an expanse of grey’. You are now having a visual experi-
ence of the patch which has just the character that I would like to start
with. I will refer to this as ‘the colour character of your visual
experience of the patch’. It will be convenient to have a shorter
term for this character, so I will also call it ‘c1’.
A SIMPLE CHARACTER 
To help you get a fix on which character c1 is, your visual experience

of each of the patches below also has character c1 (it has a different
shape and size character, but the same colour character):
In contrast, your visual experience of each patch below does not have
character c1 (it has the same shape and size character, but a different
colour character).
Having isolated this very simple character, c1, the question that I want
to answer is this:
What is it to have a visual experience with character c1?
It will help to simplify in one more way, by considering a particular

visual experience that has this character, and by asking what it is to
have this particular experience with this character. So let’s consider
your visual experience of the patch, and ask the following question:
What is it for you to have a visual experience of the patch with

character c1?
Once we have an answer to this question we’ll be able to generalize it

to an answer to the more general question of what it is to have a visual
experience with character c1.
2.2. Choosing a ‘Look’ Sentence

My approach is to find a ‘look’ sentence that we might use to say that
you have a visual experience of the patch with character c1, and
then try to better understand what we mean by this ‘look’ sentence.
 A SIMPLE CHARACTER
There are various ‘look’ sentences that we might use, but here is a very
natural one, and the one that I will use:
The patch looks grey to you
I take it that there is a reading of this sentence on which we mean that

you have a visual experience of the patch with character c1. I will refer
to this as the intended reading of the sentence. Perhaps there are other
readings of the sentence as well. I will not take a stand on this. What
matters to me is that it has a reading on which we mean that you have
a visual experience of the patch with character c1, and this is the
reading with which I intend it to be understood.
Actually, ‘grey’ is not quite the right colour word to use, because it
is not specific enough. Each patch below is such that the patch looks
grey to you, even though in some cases your visual experience of the
patch does not have character c1:
Strictly speaking, then, the right sentence to use is not ‘The patch
looks grey to you’ but ‘The patch looks greyn to you’, where ‘greyn’ is a
term for exactly the right shade of grey (i.e. the most specific colour
term t such that ‘The patch looks t to you’ is true). But that would
make things a bit more tedious. So I’ll pretend that ‘grey’ picks out
exactly the right shade of grey.
Some readers might be concerned that there is no reading of ‘The
patch looks grey to you’ on which we mean just that you have a visual
experience of the patch with character c1—on all readings we also
mean that you have a certain conceptual capacity (e.g. that you have
the concept of being grey) or a certain discriminatory capacity (e.g.
that you can visually discriminate grey things from non-grey things).
I will argue against this idea in Chapter 7. For now, I will set this
concern aside.
So, I will take the question of what it is for you to have a visual
experience of the patch with character c1 to be the question of what
it is for the patch to look grey to you, because what we mean by
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this little warrior, at times rises to a great height, and indeed now and
then is scarcely discernible from the ground.
I found a nest of this Hawk in a hole of the well-known “Rock-in-
cave” on the Ohio River, in the early part of the spring of 1819. It was
simply constructed, having been formed of a few sticks and some
grasses carelessly interwoven, and placed about two feet from the
entrance of the hole. I had the good fortune to secure the female
bird, while she was sitting on her eggs, which were nearly hatched,
and it was from that individual that I made the figure in the plate. The
eggs, four in number, were almost equally rounded at both ends,
though somewhat elongated, and their ground colour was white, with
a livid tinge, scarcely discernible however amid the numerous
markings and blotches of reddish-chocolate with which they were
irregularly covered. The second opportunity which I had of seeing a
nest of this species occurred not far from Louisville in Kentucky,
when I accidentally observed one of these hawks dive into the hollow
prong of a broken branch of a sycamore overhanging the waters of
the Ohio. Here the eggs were five in number, and deposited on the
mouldering fragments of the decayed wood. The third and last
opportunity happened when I was on my way from Henderson to St
Genevieve on horseback. I saw a pair of these birds forming a nest
in the forks of a low oak, in a grove in the centre of the prairie which I
was then crossing. The young in the nest I have never seen.
This interesting species usually resorts to the fissures of rocks for
the purpose of there passing the hours of repose, and generally in
places by no means easy of access, such as precipitous declivities
overhanging some turbulent stream. It is often not until the darkness
has so much gained on the daylight as to render objects difficult to
be distinguished, that it betakes itself to its place of rest, and then I
have only been assured of its arrival by the few cries which it utters
on such occasions. The earliness of its departure has often much
puzzled me, for with all my anxiety to witness it, I have never
succeeded in doing so, although on two or three occasions I have
watched the spot more than half an hour before dawn, and remained
patiently waiting until long after the sun had risen, when I clambered
to the hole, and always found it empty.
The food of this Hawk consists chiefly of birds of various sizes, from
the smallest of our warblers to the Passenger Pigeon or young
chickens, the latter appearing to afford a special temptation to it, as
has been above related. I am also aware that it feeds occasionally
on small reptiles and insects, and I shot the male represented in the
plate, on wing, whilst it held in its claws the small Shrew also
represented. It is extremely expert at seizing some of our smaller
snakes and lizards, and not unfrequently snatches up a frog while
basking in the sun.
The difference of size observed between the males and females, as
well as between individuals of the same sex, is very remarkable; and
no doubt it was on account of this very great disparity that Wilson
described specimens of both sexes as two distinct species. Its notes
are short, shrill, and repeated in a hurried manner, when the bird is
wounded and brought to the ground. It often emits cries of this kind
while falling, but suddenly becomes silent when it comes to the
earth, and then makes off swiftly, with long and light leaps, keeping
silent until approached. Although a small bird, it possesses
considerable muscular power, and its extremely sharp claws are apt
to inflict severe pain, should a person lay hold of it incautiously.
Falco fuscus, and dubius, Gmel. and Lath.

Slate-coloured Hawk, Falco Pennsylvanicus, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vi.
p. 13, pl. 46, fig. 1. Adult Male.
Sharp-shinned Hawk, Falco velox, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. vi. p. 116, pl.
45, fig. 1. Young Female.
Falco velox, Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis of Birds of United States, p. 29.
Falco fuscus, Ch. Bonaparte, Ibid. Append. p. 433.
Accipiter Pennsylvanicus, Slate-coloured Hawk, Richards. and Swains.
Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 44.
American Brown or Slate-coloured Hawk, Nuttall, Manual, vol. ii. p. 87.
Adult Male. Plate CCCLXXIV. Fig. 1.

Bill short, with the dorsal line of the upper mandible curved from the
base, so as to form nearly the fourth of a circle, the sides sloping
rapidly and convex toward the end, the edges sharp anteriorly, with a
broad tooth-like process or prominent festoon about the middle, the
tip very acute and decurvate; the cere rather short, its margin
forming a convex curve before the nostrils, which are oblique,
oblongo-ovate, broader behind; the lower mandible with the angle
broad and short, the dorsal line convex, the back broad at the base,
the sides convex, the edges inflected, the tip obliquely truncate,
rounded, with a very faint sinus behind.
Head of moderate size, broad, rather flattened above; neck very
short; body very slender, remarkably attenuated behind. Legs long
and very slender; tarsus rather long, extremely slender, compressed,
anteriorly covered with fifteen scutella disposed in a longitudinal
plate, of which the inner sharp edge projects considerably, whence
the name of “Sharp-shinned” given to this species, the sides with
hexagonal scales, the hind part with numerous scutella. Toes
slender, the third and fourth connected at the base by a web,
extending beyond the second joint of the latter, and curving forward
as far as that of the former; first and second toes strongest and
about equal; third extremely elongated, fourth very slender;
tuberculate and papillate beneath, there being a long fleshy tubercle
on the last joint of each toe, and one on the next joint of the two
outer. Claws very long, arched, gradually attenuated to a fine point.
Plumage full, soft, blended, somewhat distinct on the upper parts.
Wings of moderate length, reaching beyond the middle of the tail; the
fourth quill longest, the fifth scarcely shorter, the third intermediate
between the fifth and seventh, the second a little longer than the
seventh, the first generally shorter than the outer secondary; the first
five quills cut out on the outer, the first four more deeply on the inner
edge. The tail is long, even, of twelve rather broad, rounded
feathers.
The bill is light blue at the base, bluish-black at the end; the cere and
eyelids yellowish-green; the iris bright reddish-orange; the tarsi and
toes yellow; the claws black, pale bluish at the base. The general
colour of the plumage on the upper parts is deep greyish-blue, or
dark slate-blue, the shafts darker; the feathers on the occiput are
white at the base, that colour appearing more or less as they are
raised; and on each of the scapulars are two large white patches,
which, however, are not seen until the feathers are raised. The outer
primaries are tinged with brown; all the quills are marked on the
inner web with dusky bands, between which the inner margins are
white toward the base. The tail has four broad bands of blackish-
brown, and is tipped with greyish-white. The cheeks are yellowish-
red, and the forehead is tinged with the same colour. The throat is
reddish-white; the lower parts are transversely and rather broadly
barred with light red and white, there being from three to five bars or
double spots of the latter colour on each feather, those on the sides
with the inner web entirely red; part of abdomen and lower tail-
coverts white; feathers of the legs barred like the breast; lower wing-
coverts yellowish-white, barred and spotted with dusky.
Length to end of tail 11 1/4 inches; to end of wings 8 3/4; to end of
claws 11 1/4; extent of wings 20 1/2; wing from flexure 6 10/12; tail
5 10/12; bill along the ridge 8/12, along the edge of lower mandible
8/ ;
12 tarsus 1 11/12; hind toe 5 3/4/12, its claw, 6/12; middle toe 1 2/12, its
claw 4 1/2/12. Weight 3 1/2 oz.
Adult Female. Plate CCCLXXIV. Fig. 2.
The female, which greatly exceeds the male in size is generally
greyish-brown tinged with blue on the upper parts, in very old
individuals bluish-grey or dark bluish-grey, more or less tinged with
brown. The bill, cere, iris, feet, and claws are as in the male, and the
markings on the plumage are similar on the upper parts; the lower
are generally of a lighter tint, but otherwise nearly the same.
Length to end of tail 14 inches; extent of wings 26; wing from flexure
8 2/12; tail 6 8/12; bill along the ridge 10/12; tarsus 2 1/12; hind toe
7 1/2/ , its claw 7
1/2
/12; middle toe 1 11/12, its claw 6/12. Weight of an
12
individual 7 1/2 oz., of another 8 1/4.
Young birds of either sex, when fully fledged, have the upper parts
generally hair-brown, on the back darker; the feathers on the head
and hind neck margined with light red; those of the rest of the upper
parts also terminally edged with brownish-red; the feathers of the
hind head and neck are white at the base, but to less extent, and the
scapulars are also spotted with the same. The lower parts are white
or yellowish-white, the throat longitudinally streaked, the rest banded
with dark brown, the feathers of the sides spotted, those of the legs
light reddish, obscurely marked with darker along the middle; the
lower tail-coverts white. The female has the markings on the lower
parts much narrower at this age.
A male bird preserved in spirits presents the following characters:—
The roof of the mouth is flat, with two longitudinal ridges; the
posterior aperture of the nares oblong, with a linear anterior slit,
papillate on the edges. The tongue is 5 twelfths long, narrow,
concave above, slightly emarginate. The œsophagus, a b c d e, is 3
inches 3 twelfths long; its diameter at the upper part 5 twelfths; it
enlarges on the neck to a capacious crop, c d, 1 inch in diameter.
The proventriculus, e, has a complete belt of small oblong glandules.
The stomach, f g, is large, roundish, membranous, without distinct
muscles, 1 inch 3 twelfths long, and 1 inch broad. The intestine, g h i
l, is 14 3/4 inches long, its greatest diameter 2 twelfths. The rectum, j
l, is 1 inch 9 twelfths long; its diameter at the anterior part 3 twelfths;
the cœca, j, are exceedingly small, forming two scarcely observable
sacs, about half a twelfth in depth. The trachea is 2 1/12 inches long,
its rings unossified, 78 in number; the bronchi long and slender, of
about 18 half rings. The contents of the crop and stomach were
portions of two small birds.
On comparing several specimens, male and female, of this Sharp-
shinned Hawk, with others of the European Sparrow Hawk, the
proportions are found to be similar, as are the colours of the upper
parts; but the American birds, especially the males, are much
smaller; and the transverse bands on the lower parts of the Sharp-
shinned Hawk are redder and broader than those of the Sparrow
Hawk. The number of dark bands on the tail is the same in both,
namely four on the middle feathers, and six on the lateral. The tail is
not always precisely even, being in both European and American
birds often slightly rounded, the lateral feather being sometimes a
quarter of an inch shorter than the longest.
A species most intimately allied to the Sharp-shinned Hawk presents
the same form and colours, but differs somewhat in its proportions,
and is much larger. The bill is much higher at the base, its upper
outline slopes from the commencement, and the festoon on its edge
is less prominent. The tarsi and toes are proportionally stronger, the
edge on the former not nearly so prominent. The first quill is a little
longer than the first secondary, the fifth quill (not the fourth) is
longest; and the tail is rounded, the lateral feather in a female being
eight-twelfths of an inch shorter than the longest. The dimensions of
a female of this species, shot by myself in South Carolina, are as
follows:—
Length to end of tail 16 1/2 inches; wing from flexure 10; tail 7 10/12;
bill along the ridge 1; tarsus 2 7/12; hind toe 10/12, its claw 1; middle
toe 1 8/12, its claw 7 1/2/12.
It is very probable that this is the Accipiter Mexicanus of Mr
Swainson, whose brief account of a female of that species, in the
Fauna Boreali-Americana, agrees sufficiently with it. There are,
however, some errors in his critical observations, at p. 44. Thus, he
states that Wilson’s figure of the Slate-coloured Hawk, Accipiter
Pennsylvanicus, is perfectly characteristic, in having the tail quite
even at the end; but that Temminck’s Autour a bec sinueux is
doubtful, the tail being represented as distinctly rounded. Now, in
fact, the tail of our Sharp-shinned Hawk is when perfect a little
rounded, but often when worn quite even or square. Both the figures
in Plate CCCLXXIV represent it as a little rounded, and such it is in
five specimens out of eight, four of these being females, and one a
male; while the three specimens in which the tail may be said to be
quite even are males. Again, he states that “the anterior scales on
the tarsus of A. Pennsylvanicus are entire, being apparently formed
externally of one entire piece; whereas in Mexicanus, the transverse
divisions are distinctly visible.” The latter part of the sentence is
certainly correct, in so far as may be judged from a single very fine
specimen; but the scales are equally distinct in all the younger
individuals of the A. Pennsylvanicus, although in one, an old male,
the distinctions between the greater number are obliterated, so that
they resemble a single plate. There is nothing very remarkable in
this, however, for the like happens to other Hawks; it having been
long ago remarked with regard to the Sparrow Hawk of Europe,
Accipiter Nisus, that “in some individuals, the anterior oblique
scutella, as well as the hexagonal scales of the sides, are so
indistinct, that all traces of them disappear when the parts become
dry.”
Accipiter Nisus, A. velox, and A. Mexicanus, which are most closely
allied, insomuch that it is extremely difficult to distinguish them from
each other, may be characterized as follows:—
A. Mexicanus is largest; has the fifth quill longest, the first primary
much longer than the last, the tail distinctly rounded, the tarsi stouter,
and with fifteen scales; the upper parts deep slate-blue; the lower
banded with light red and white.
A. velox is smallest, has the fourth quill longest, the first primary
much shorter than the last, the tail even, the tarsi extremely slender,
with fifteen scales; the colours exactly as in Mexicanus.
A. Nisus is intermediate in size, never so small as velox, but
sometimes as large as Mexicanus, with the fourth quill longest, the
first and last primary about equal, the tail very slightly rounded or
even, the tarsi very slender, with eighteen scales, the upper parts
deep slate-blue, the lower narrowly banded with light red in the male,
and dusky in the female.
This species was described by Wilson under the name of Sharp-
shinned Hawk, Falco velox, and figured in Pl. XLV, a young female
only being represented, although a description is given of a young
male also. He afterwards figured an adult male (Pl. XLVI), and
described it under the name of Slate-coloured Hawk, Falco
Pennsylvanicus, considering it as a distinct species. It appears,
however, that it had previously been described under several names.
Thus Falco fuscus of Miller and Gmelin, and the American Brown
Hawk of Latham, seem to be the same bird in the young state. Falco
dubius of Gmelin and Latham, the Dubious Falcon of the latter and
of Pennant are also synonymous. The Dusky Falcon of Pennant
and Latham, Falco obscurus of the latter and of Gmelin, may also
belong to the same species. If we consider priority of name as of
paramount importance, then, in so far as can be shewn, the species
ought to be named the “American Brown Hawk, Falco fuscus;” or,
according to the newer nomenclature, Astur or Accipiter fuscus. The
names of “Sharp-shinned,” “Slate-coloured,” and “velox” are not
more distinctive; and Pennsylvanicus is out of the question, having
been applied to another species.
LESSER REDPOLL.
Fringilla Linaria, Linn.

PLATE CCCLXXV. Male and Female.
When I was in Labrador, my young companions and my son one day

(the 27th of July 1833) procured eight individuals of this species, of
different sexes and ages. Next morning I went to the place where
they had been shot, and found a good number remaining. The first
observation I made had reference to their notes, which, instead of
resembling those of the Goldfinch, as alleged by an American writer,
are very similar to those of the Siskin, and are frequently uttered
both when the birds are alighted and while they are on wing. They
were in small parties of seven or eight, apparently formed by the
members of the same family, and although several of these groups
were around me, they did not intermingle until fired at, when they all
simultaneously rose on wing, mixed together, and after performing
several short evolutions returned to the same bushes, separated into
families, and resumed their occupations. When alighted they were
quite unsuspecting, and so heedless as to allow a close approach,
scarcely regarding my presence, but clinging to the branches,
dexterously picking out the seeds of the alder-cones, and
occasionally coming to the ground after some which had dropped.
Few birds exhibit a more affectionate disposition than the Little
Redpoll, and it was pleasing to see several on a twig feeding each
other by passing a seed from bill to bill, one individual sometimes
receiving food from his two neighbours at the same time.
Occasionally, however, they shewed considerable pugnacity, and
one would drive off its companion, inflicting some smart blows upon
it with its bill, and uttering a low querulous chatter.
In other portions of the same country, I saw flocks composed of
twenty or more individuals flying loosely at a moderate height, in the
undulatory manner of the American Goldfinch and Siskin, without,
however, making the deep sweeps of the former; suddenly alighting,
and at once beginning to search with great expertness between the
stems and leaves, picking at the embryo buds while perched over
them, like Jays and Titmice.
So hardy is this species, that, according to Dr Richardson, it is a
“permanent resident in the Fur Countries, where it may be seen in
the coldest weather, on the banks of lakes and rivers, hopping
among the reeds and carices, or clinging to their stalks. Although
numerous throughout the year, even in the most northern districts, a
partial migration takes place, as large flocks visit Pennsylvania for a
month or two in severe winters.” The migrations alluded to are of
rare occurrence in that State, however, as well as in that of New
York. I never saw one of these birds to the westward of the
Alleghanies, and none were observed by Dr Townsend or Mr
Nuttall on the Columbia River. They are abundant every cold
winter in the northern parts of Massachusetts and Maine, as well as
in all the British Provinces.
The food of this species consists of buds, seeds of various grasses,
berries, and the small leaves of bushes and trees. I have
represented a male and a female on a plant which grows abundantly
in the localities in which I found it in Labrador.
The many young birds which I examined in the month of August, had
the head entirely grey. The feathers of that part, and those on the
breast and rump, were of the same colour nearly to the base, which
is bluish-grey; and I suspect that they do not acquire any redness
until the approach of spring. The old birds were moulting at the
period mentioned, and from their appearance I concluded that all
their red feathers are reassumed each spring. The eggs, from four to
six in number, measure five-eighths in length, rather more than half
an inch in diameter, and are pale bluish-green sparingly dotted with
reddish-brown toward the larger end.
Fringilla linaria, Linn. Syst. Nat. vol. i. p. 322.—Lath. Ind. Ornith. vol. i. p.
458.—Ch. Bonaparte, Synopsis. p. 112.
Lesser Redpoll, Fringilla linaria, Wils. Amer. Ornith. vol. iv. p. 42, pl. 30,
fig. 4. Male.
Linaria minor, Lesser Redpoll, Fauna Bor.-Amer. vol. ii. p. 267.
Lesser Redpoll, Nuttall, Manual, vol. i. 512.
Adult Male in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 1.

Bill short, strong, conical, compressed toward the end, extremely
acute; upper mandible with the dorsal line straight, the ridge narrow,
the sides convex, the edges sharp and overlapping, without notch,
the tip acuminate; lower mandible with the angle short and
semicircular, the dorsal line straight, the ridge broadish at the base,
the sides convex, the edges sharp and inflected, the tip acute.
Nostrils basal, roundish, covered by stiffish reversed feathers.
Head of moderate size, roundish; neck short; body moderate, Feet of
moderate length, slender; tarsus compressed, anteriorly covered
with a few scutella of which the upper are blended, posteriorly with
two longitudinal plates meeting at a very acute angle; toes slender,
the first with its claw as long as the third with its claw; the lateral toes
equal. Claws large, moderately arched, much compressed, acute.
Plumage soft, rather blended, with very little gloss, unless on the red
parts. Wings of ordinary length, the first three quills almost equal, but
the second longest. Tail rather long, forked.
Bill yellowish, the upper mandible dusky on the ridge; iris brown; feet
blackish brown. A band edging the forehead, the loral space, and the
throat, brownish-black; the reversed feathers on the base of the bill
yellowish; the crown of the head crimson; the hind part of the head,
the neck, the fore part of the back, and the scapulars yellowish-
brown, longitudinally streaked with blackish-brown, the feathers on
the hind part of the back margined with whitish, and tipped with
carmine; the wings and tail dusky, with yellowish-brown edges, and
two transverse bands of the same on the tips of the first row of small
coverts and the secondary coverts. The sides of the neck, its fore
part, the breast, and flanks, rich carmine; the middle of the breast,
the abdomen, and the lower tail-coverts white, tinged with rose
colour; the sides longitudinally streaked with dusky.
Length to end of tail 5; to end of wings 4; extent of wings 8 3/4; wing
from flexure 3 2/12; tail 2 1/2; bill along the ridge 4 1/2 twelfths, along
1/2
the edge of lower mandible 5 1/2 twelfths; tarsus 7/12; first toe 2 /12,
its claw, 4 1/2/12; middle toe 4 1/2/12, its claw 3/12.
Adult Female in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 2.

The female, which is somewhat less, has the black of the forehead
and throat more brown, with less red on the head, and little or none
on the rump, or on the lower parts, which are white, the breast and
flanks longitudinally streaked with dusky.
TRUMPETER SWAN.
Cygnus Buccinator, Richardson.

PLATE CCCLXXVI. Young in Winter.
The history of the American Swans has been but very slightly traced.
Few records of the habits of these majestic, elegant, and useful birds
exist, on which much reliance can be placed; their geographical
range still remains an unsolved problem; one species has been
mistaken for another, and this by ornithologists who are said to be of
the first order. The Cygnus Bewickii of Great Britain has been given
as a North American Swan in place of Cygnus Americanus (well
described by Dr Sharpless of Philadelphia) in the Fauna Boreali-
Americana; and the latter bird has been taken for the Whistling
Swan, C. musicus of Bechstein, by the Prince of Musignano, who
says in his Synopsis, p. 379, No. 321, that it is “very numerous in
winter in Chesapeake Bay.” It is possible that we may have more
than two species of Swan within the limits of North America, but I am
at present acquainted with only that which forms the subject of this
article, and the Cygnus Americanus of Sharpless.
In a note contained in the Journals of Lewis and Clark, written in
the course of the expedition of these daring travellers across the
Rocky Mountains, it is stated that “the Swans are of two kinds, the
large and small. The large Swan is the same with the one common
in the Atlantic States. The small differs from the large only in size
and note; it is about one-fourth less, and its note is entirely different.
These birds were first found below the great narrows of the
Columbia, near the Chilluckittequaw nation. They are very abundant
in this neighbourhood, and remained with the party all winter, and in
number they exceed those of the larger species in the proportion of
five to one.” These observations are partly correct and partly
erroneous. In fact, the smaller species of the two, which is the C.
Americanus of Sharpless, is the only one abundant in the middle
districts of our Atlantic coast, while the larger Swan, the subject of
this article, is rarely if ever seen to the eastward of the mouths of the
Mississippi. A perfect specimen of the small Swan mentioned by
Lewis and Clark has been transmitted to me from the Columbia
River by Dr Townsend, and I find it to correspond in every respect
with the C. Americanus of Sharpless. Dr Townsend corroborates
the observations of the two eminent travellers by stating, that the
latter species is much more numerous than the large C. Buccinator.
The Trumpeter Swans make their appearance on the lower portions
of the waters of the Ohio about the end of October. They throw
themselves at once into the larger ponds or lakes at no great
distance from the river, giving a marked preference to those which
are closely surrounded by dense and tall cane-brakes, and there
remain until the water is closed by ice, when they are forced to
proceed southward. During mild winters I have seen Swans of this
species in the ponds about Henderson until the beginning of March,
but only a few individuals, which may have staid there to recover
from their wounds. When the cold became intense, most of those
which visited the Ohio would remove to the Mississippi, and proceed
down that stream as the severity of the weather increased, or return
if it diminished; for it has appeared to me, that neither very intense
cold nor great heat suit them so well as a medium temperature. I
have traced the winter migrations of this species as far southward as
the Texas, where it is abundant at times, and where I saw a pair of
young ones in captivity, and quite domesticated, that had been
procured in the winter of 1836. They were about two years old, and
pure white, although of much smaller size than even the younger
one represented in the plate before you, having perhaps been
stinted in food, or having suffered from their wounds, as both had
been shot. The sound of their well-known notes reminded me of the
days of my youth, when I was half-yearly in the company of birds of
this species.
At New Orleans, where I made the drawing of the young bird here
given, the Trumpeters are frequently exposed for sale in the markets,
being procured on the ponds of the interior, and on the great lakes
leading to the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. This species is unknown
to my friend, the Rev. John Bachman, who, during a residence of
twenty years in South Carolina, never saw or heard of one there;
whereas in hard winters the Cygnus Americanus is not uncommon,
although it does not often proceed further southward than that State.
The waters of the Arkansas and its tributaries are annually supplied
with Trumpeter Swans, and the largest individual which I have
examined was shot on a lake near the junction of that river with the
Mississippi. It measured nearly ten feet in alar extent, and weighed
above thirty-eight pounds. The quills, which I used in drawing the
feet and claws of many small birds, were so hard, and yet so elastic,
that the best steel-pen of the present day might have blushed, if it
could, to be compared with them.
Whilst encamped in the Tawapatee Bottom, when on a fur-trading
voyage, our keel-boat was hauled close under the eastern shore of
the Mississippi, and our valuables, for I then had a partner in trade,
were all disembarked. The party consisted of twelve or fourteen
French Canadians, all of whom were pretty good hunters; and as
game was in those days extremely abundant, the supply of Deer,
Bear, Racoons, and Opossums, far exceeded our demands. Wild
Turkeys, Grous, and Pigeons, might have been seen hanging all
around; and the ice-bound lakes afforded an ample supply of
excellent fish, which was procured by striking a strong blow with an
axe on the ice immediately above the confined animal, and
afterwards extricating it by cutting a hole with the same instrument.
The great stream was itself so firmly frozen that we were daily in the
habit of crossing it from shore to shore. No sooner did the gloom of
night become discernible through the grey twilight, than the loud-
sounding notes of hundreds of Trumpeters would burst on the ear;
and as I gazed over the ice-bound river, flocks after flocks would be
seen coming from afar and in various directions, and alighting about
the middle of the stream opposite to our encampment. After pluming
themselves awhile they would quietly drop their bodies on the ice,
and through the dim light I yet could observe the graceful curve of
their necks, as they gently turned them backwards, to allow their
heads to repose upon the softest and warmest of pillows. Just a dot
of black as it were could be observed on the snowy mass, and that
dot was about half an inch of the base of the upper mandible, thus
exposed, as I think, to enable the bird to breathe with ease. Not a
single individual could I ever observe among them to act as a
sentinel, and I have since doubted whether their acute sense of
hearing was not sufficient to enable them to detect the approach of
their enemies. The day quite closed by darkness, no more could be
seen until the next dawn; but as often as the howlings of the
numerous wolves that prowled through the surrounding woods were
heard, the clanging cries of the Swans would fill the air. If the
morning proved fair, the whole flocks would rise on their feet, trim
their plumage, and as they started with wings extended, as if, racing
in rivalry, the pattering of their feet would come on the ear like the
noise of great muffled drums, accompanied by the loud and clear
sounds of their voice. On running fifty yards or so to windward, they
would all be on wing. If the weather was thick, drizzly, and cold, or if
there were indications of a fall of snow, they would remain on the ice,
walking, standing, or lying down, until symptoms of better weather
became apparent, when they would all start off. One morning of this
latter kind, our men formed a plot against the Swans, and having
separated into two parties, one above, the other below them on the
ice, they walked slowly, on a signal being given from the camp,
toward the unsuspecting birds. Until the boatmen had arrived within
a hundred and fifty yards of them, the Swans remained as they were,
having become, as it would appear, acquainted with us, in
consequence of our frequently crossing the ice; but then they all rose
on their feet, stretched their necks, shook their heads, and
manifested strong symptoms of apprehension. The gunners
meanwhile advanced, and one of the guns going off by accident, the
Swans were thrown into confusion, and scampering off in various
directions took to wing, some flying up, some down the stream,
others making directly toward the shores. The muskets now blazed,
and about a dozen were felled, some crippled, others quite dead.
That evening they alighted about a mile above the camp, and we
never went after them again. I have been at the killing of several of
these Swans, and I can assure you that unless you have a good gun
well loaded with large buck-shot, you may shoot at them without
much effect, for they are strong and tough birds.
To form a perfect conception of the beauty and elegance of these
Swans, you must observe them when they are not aware of your
proximity, and as they glide over the waters of some secluded inland
pond. On such occasions, the neck, which at other times is held
stiffly upright, moves in graceful curves, now bent forward, now
inclined backwards over the body. Now with an extended scooping
movement the head becomes immersed for a moment, and with a
sudden effort a flood of water is thrown over the back and wings,
when it is seen rolling off in sparkling globules, like so many large
pearls. The bird then shakes its wings, beats the water, and as if
giddy with delight shoots away, gliding over and beneath the surface
of the liquid element with surprising agility and grace. Imagine,
Reader, that a flock of fifty Swans are thus sporting before you, as
they have more than once been in my sight, and you will feel, as I
have felt, more happy and void of care than I can describe.
When swimming unmolested the Swan shews the body buoyed up;
but when apprehensive of danger, it sinks considerably lower. If
resting and basking in the sunshine, it draws one foot expanded
curiously towards the back, and in that posture remains often for half
an hour at a time. When making off swiftly, the tarsal joint, or knee as
it is called, is seen about an inch above the water, which now in
wavelets passes over the lower part of the neck and along the sides
of the body, as it undulates on the planks of a vessel gliding with a
gentle breeze. Unless during the courting season, or while passing
by its mate, I never saw a swan with the wings raised and expanded,
as it is alleged they do, to profit by the breeze that may blow to assist
their progress; and yet I have pursued some in canoes to a
considerable distance, and that without overtaking them, or even
obliging them to take to wing. You, Reader, as well as all the world,
have seen Swans labouring away on foot, and therefore I will not
trouble you with a description of their mode of walking, especially as
it is not much to be admired.
The flight of the Trumpeter Swan is firm, at times greatly elevated
and sustained. It passes through the air by regular beats, in the
same manner as Geese, the neck stretched to its full length, as are
the feet, which project beyond the tail. When passing low, I have
frequently thought that I heard a rustling sound from the motion of
the feathers of their wings. If bound to a distant place, they form
themselves in angular lines, and probably the leader of the flock is
one of the oldest of the males; but of this I am not at all sure, as I
have seen at the head of a line a grey bird, which must have been a
young one of that year.
This Swan feeds principally by partially immersing the body and
extending the neck under water, in the manner of fresh-water Ducks
and some species of Geese, when the feet are often seen working in
the air, as if to aid in preserving the balance. Often however it resorts
to the land, and then picks at the herbage, not sidewise, as Geese
do, but more in the manner of Ducks and poultry. Its food consists of
roots of different vegetables, leaves, seeds, various aquatic insects,
land snails, small reptiles and quadrupeds. The flesh of a cygnet is
pretty good eating, but that of an old bird is dry and tough.
I kept a male alive upwards of two years, while I was residing at
Henderson in Kentucky. It had been slightly wounded in the tip of the
wing, and was caught after a long pursuit in a pond from which it
could not escape. Its size, weight, and strength rendered the task of
carrying it nearly two miles by no means easy; but as I knew that it
would please my wife and my then very young children, I
persevered. Cutting off the tip of the wounded wing, I turned it loose
in the garden. Although at first extremely shy, it gradually became
accustomed to the servants, who fed it abundantly, and at length
proved so gentle as to come to my wife’s call, to receive bread from
her hand. “Trumpeter,” us we named our bird, in accordance with the
general practice of those who were in the habit of shooting this
species, now assumed a character which until then had been
unexpected, and laying aside his timidity became so bold at times as
to give chase to my favourite Wild Turkey Cock, my dogs, children,
and servants. Whenever the gates of our yard happened to be
opened, he would at once make for the Ohio, and it was not without
difficulty that he was driven home again. On one occasion, he was
absent a whole night, and I thought he had fairly left us; but
intimation came of his having travelled to a pond not far distant.
Accompanied by my miller and six or seven of my servants, I betook
myself to the pond, and there saw our Swan swimming buoyantly
about as if in defiance of us all. It was not without a great deal of
trouble that we at length succeeded in driving it ashore. Pet birds,
good Reader, no matter of what species they are, seldom pass their
lives in accordance with the wishes of their possessors; in the course

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Visual Experience: A Semantic

Approach 1st Edition Wylie

OXFORD PHILOSOPHICAL MONOGRAPHS

WILLIAM CHILD R. S. CRISP A. W. MOORE

OTHER TITLES IN THIS SERIES INCLUDE

Discrimination and Disrespect

This book is the culmination of work that I ﬁrst started in my B.Phil.

1.1. Visual Experiences and their Characters

In particular, I am interested in the ‘what it is like’ of a visual

What is it to have a visual experience with character c?

It might initially seem that the character of your visual experience of

experiences of p either is an intrinsic property of p in both experi-

According to sense-datum theories, the character of your visual

Suppose that by ‘you have a visual experience with character c’ we

interest in what we mean by a sentence is equally an interest in what

1.5. The Plan for the Book

I start (Chapters 2 to 8) by trying to answer this question for a very

My aim in this book is to answer the following question, for any

2.1. A Starting Character

Actually, even this character is more complicated than I would like to

To help you get a ﬁx on which character c1 is, your visual experience

What is it to have a visual experience with character c1?

It will help to simplify in one more way, by considering a particular

What is it for you to have a visual experience of the patch with

Once we have an answer to this question we’ll be able to generalize it

2.2. Choosing a ‘Look’ Sentence

The patch looks grey to you

I take it that there is a reading of this sentence on which we mean that

Falco fuscus, and dubius, Gmel. and Lath.

Adult Male. Plate CCCLXXIV. Fig. 1.

individual 7 1/2 oz., of another 8 1/4.

Fringilla Linaria, Linn.

When I was in Labrador, my young companions and my son one day

Adult Male in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 1.

Adult Female in Summer. Plate CCCLXXV. Fig. 2.

Cygnus Buccinator, Richardson.

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