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+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bird Stories from Burroughs, by John Burroughs
+ </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bird Stories from Burroughs, by John Burroughs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Bird Stories from Burroughs
+ Sketches of Bird Life Taken from the Works of John Burroughs
+
+Author: John Burroughs
+
+Illustrator: Louis Agassiz Fuertes
+
+Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #26046]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRD STORIES FROM BURROUGHS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Peter Vachuska, Chuck Greif, Stephen Blundell
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 364px;"><a name="i1" id="i1"></a>
+<img src="images/001.jpg" width="364" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+GOLDFINCH (page <a href="#Page_125">125</a>)</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h1>BIRD STORIES<br />
+FROM BURROUGHS</h1>
+
+<div class="p1"><big>SKETCHES OF BIRD LIFE<br />
+TAKEN FROM THE WORKS OF</big></div>
+
+<h2>JOHN BURROUGHS</h2>
+
+<div class="p2"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS<br />
+BY LOUIS AGASSIZ FUERTES</i></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 91px;">
+<img src="images/002.png" width="91" height="125" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="p3"><small>BOSTON&nbsp;&nbsp;NEW YORK&nbsp;&nbsp;CHICAGO</small><br />
+HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br />
+<small><b>The Riverside Press Cambridge</b></small></div>
+
+<hr />
+<div class="center"><small>COPYRIGHT, 1871, 1875, 1876, 1877, 1879, 1881, 1886, 1894, 1899, 1903, 1904,<br />
+1905, 1906, 1907, 1908, 1909, BY JOHN BURROUGHS<br /><br />
+COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</small></div>
+
+<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
+Hyphenation has been standardised. Minor typographical errors have
+been corrected without note.</div>
+
+<hr />
+<h2>PUBLISHERS' NOTE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">John Burroughs's</span> first book, "Wake-Robin,"
+contained a chapter entitled "The Invitation."
+It was an invitation to the study of
+birds. He has reiterated it, implicitly if not explicitly,
+in most of the books he has published
+since then, and many of his readers have joyfully
+accepted it. Indeed, such an invitation
+from Mr. Burroughs is the best possible introduction
+to the birds of our Northeastern States,
+and it is likewise an introduction to some very
+good reading. To convey this invitation to a
+wider circle of young readers the most interesting
+bird stories in Mr. Burroughs's books have
+been gathered into a single volume. A chapter
+is given to each species of bird, and the chapters
+are arranged in a sort of chronological order,
+according to the time of the bird's arrival in the
+spring, the nesting time, or the season when for
+some other reason the species is particularly conspicuous.
+In taking the stories out of their original
+setting a few slight verbal alterations have
+been necessary here and there, but these have
+been made either by Mr. Burroughs himself or
+with his approval.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="td1">The Bluebird</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Bluebird (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Robin</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Flicker</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Ph&#339;be</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Coming of Ph&#339;be (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Cowbird</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Chipping Sparrow</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Chewink</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Brown Thrasher</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The House Wren</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Song Sparrow</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Chimney Swift</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Oven-Bird</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Catbird</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Bobolink</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Bobolink (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Wood Thrush</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Baltimore Oriole</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Whip-poor-will</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Black-throated Blue Warbler: A Search for<br />
+<span class="sp2">a Rare Nest</span></td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Marsh Hawk: A Marsh Hawk's Nest, a Young<br />
+<span class="sp2">Hawk, and a Visit to a Quail on her Nest</span></td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_106">106</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Winter Wren</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Cedar-Bird</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Goldfinch</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Hen-Hawk</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Ruffed Grouse, or Partridge</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Partridge (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Crow</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Crow (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Northern Shrike</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Screech Owl</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Chickadee</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">The Downy Woodpecker</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">The Downy Woodpecker (<span class="sp1">poem</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Index</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td class="td1">Goldfinch (<span class="sp1">in color</span>). (page 125)</td><td class="td2"><i><a href="#i1">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">A Pair of Bluebirds</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Flicker (<span class="sp1">in color</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Chewink, Male and Female (<span class="sp1">in color</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Wood Thrush</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Baltimore Oriole, Male and Female</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Whip-poor-will</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Downy Woodpecker (<span class="sp1">in color</span>)</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<h1>BIRD STORIES FROM BURROUGHS</h1>
+
+<h2>THE BLUEBIRD</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is sure to be a bright March morning when
+you first hear the bluebird's note; and it is as
+if the milder influences up above had found a
+voice and let a word fall upon your ear, so tender
+is it and so prophetic, a hope tinged with a
+regret.</p>
+
+<p>There never was a happier or more devoted
+husband than the male bluebird. He is the
+gay champion and escort of the female at all
+times, and while she is sitting he feeds her regularly.
+It is very pretty to watch them building
+their nest. The male is very active in hunting
+out a place and exploring the boxes and cavities,
+but seems to have no choice in the matter and is
+anxious only to please and encourage his mate,
+who has the practical turn and knows what will
+do and what will not. After she has suited herself
+he applauds her immensely, and away the two
+go in quest of material for the nest, the male
+acting as guard and flying above and in advance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+of the female. She brings all the material and
+does all the work of building, he looking on and
+encouraging her with gesture and song. He acts
+also as inspector of her work, but I fear is a very
+partial one. She enters the nest with her bit of
+dry grass or straw, and, having adjusted it to
+her notion, withdraws and waits near by while he
+goes in and looks it over. On coming out he exclaims
+very plainly, "Excellent! excellent!" and
+away the two go again for more material.</p>
+
+<p>I was much amused one summer day in seeing
+a bluebird feeding her young one in the shaded
+street of a large town. She had captured a cicada
+or harvest-fly, and, after bruising it awhile on
+the ground, flew with it to a tree and placed it
+in the beak of the young bird. It was a large
+morsel, and the mother seemed to have doubts
+of her chick's ability to dispose of it, for she stood
+near and watched its efforts with great solicitude.
+The young bird struggled valiantly with the cicada,
+but made no headway in swallowing it,
+when the mother took it from him and flew to
+the sidewalk, and proceeded to break and bruise
+it more thoroughly. Then she again placed it in
+his beak, and seemed to say, "There, try it now,"
+and sympathized so thoroughly with his efforts
+that she repeated many of his motions and contortions.
+But the great fly was unyielding, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
+indeed, seemed ridiculously disproportioned to
+the beak that held it. The young bird fluttered
+and fluttered, and screamed, "I'm stuck, I'm
+stuck!" till the anxious parent again seized the
+morsel and carried it to an iron railing, where
+she came down upon it for the space of a minute
+with all the force and momentum her beak could
+command. Then she offered it to her young a
+third time, but with the same result as before,
+except that this time the bird dropped it; but
+she reached the ground as soon as the cicada did,
+and taking it in her beak flew a little distance to
+a high board fence, where she sat motionless for
+some moments. While pondering the problem
+how that fly should be broken, the male bluebird
+approached her, and said very plainly, and
+I thought rather curtly, "Give me that bug,"
+but she quickly resented his interference and
+flew farther away, where she sat apparently quite
+discouraged when I last saw her.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>One day in early May, Ted and I made an expedition
+to the Shattega, a still, dark, deep stream
+that loiters silently through the woods not far
+from my cabin. As we paddled along, we were
+on the alert for any bit of wild life of bird or
+beast that might turn up.</p>
+
+<p>There were so many abandoned woodpecker<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+chambers in the small dead trees as we went along
+that I determined to secure the section of a tree
+containing a good one to take home and put up
+for the bluebirds. "Why don't the bluebirds occupy
+them here?" inquired Ted. "Oh," I replied,
+"bluebirds do not come so far into the
+woods as this. They prefer nesting-places in the
+open, and near human habitations." After carefully
+scrutinizing several of the trees, we at last
+saw one that seemed to fill the bill. It was a
+small dead tree-trunk seven or eight inches in
+diameter, that leaned out over the water, and from
+which the top had been broken. The hole, round
+and firm, was ten or twelve feet above us. After
+considerable effort I succeeded in breaking the
+stub off near the ground, and brought it down
+into the boat. "Just the thing," I said; "surely
+the bluebirds will prefer this to an artificial box."
+But, lo and behold, it already had bluebirds in
+it! We had not heard a sound or seen a feather
+till the trunk was in our hands, when, on peering
+into the cavity, we discovered two young bluebirds
+about half grown. This was a predicament
+indeed!</p>
+
+<p>Well, the only thing we could do was to stand
+the tree-trunk up again as well as we could, and
+as near as we could to where it had stood before.
+This was no easy thing. But after a time we had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+it fairly well replaced, one end standing in the
+mud of the shallow water and the other resting
+against a tree. This left the hole to the nest
+about ten feet below and to one side of its former
+position. Just then we heard the voice of one of
+the parent birds, and we quickly paddled to the
+other side of the stream, fifty feet away, to watch
+her proceedings, saying to each other, "Too
+bad! too bad!" The mother bird had a large
+beetle in her beak. She alighted upon a limb a
+few feet above the former site of her nest, looked
+down upon us, uttered a note or two, and then
+dropped down confidently to the point in the
+vacant air where the entrance to her nest had
+been but a few moments before. Here she hovered
+on the wing a second or two, looking for
+something that was not there, and then returned
+to the perch she had just left, apparently not a
+little disturbed. She hammered the beetle rather
+excitedly upon the limb a few times, as if it were
+in some way at fault, then dropped down to try
+for her nest again. Only vacant air there! She
+hovers and hovers, her blue wings flickering in
+the checkered light; surely that precious hole
+<i>must</i> be there; but no, again she is baffled, and
+again she returns to her perch, and mauls the
+poor beetle till it must be reduced to a pulp.
+Then she makes a third attempt, then a fourth,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+and a fifth, and a sixth, till she becomes very much
+excited. "What could have happened? am I
+dreaming? has that beetle hoodooed me?" she
+seems to say, and in her dismay she lets the bug
+drop, and looks bewilderedly about her. Then she
+flies away through the woods, calling. "Going
+for her mate," I said to Ted. "She is in deep
+trouble, and she wants sympathy and help."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes we heard her mate answer,
+and presently the two birds came hurrying to the
+spot, both with loaded beaks. They perched
+upon the familiar limb above the site of the nest,
+and the mate seemed to say, "My dear, what
+has happened to you? I can find that nest."
+And he dived down, and brought up in the empty
+air just as the mother had done. How he winnowed
+it with his eager wings! how he seemed
+to bear on to that blank space! His mate sat regarding
+him intently, confident, I think, that he
+would find the clew. But he did not. Baffled and
+excited, he returned to the perch beside her.
+Then she tried again, then he rushed down once
+more, then they both assaulted the place, but it
+would not give up its secret. They talked, they encouraged
+each other, and they kept up the search,
+now one, now the other, now both together.
+Sometimes they dropped down to within a few
+feet of the entrance to the nest, and we thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+they would surely find it. No, their minds and
+eyes were intent only upon that square foot of
+space where the nest had been. Soon they withdrew
+to a large limb many feet higher up, and
+seemed to say to themselves, "Well, it is not
+there, but it must be here somewhere; let us
+look about." A few minutes elapsed, when we saw
+the mother bird spring from her perch and go
+straight as an arrow to the nest. Her maternal eye
+had proved the quicker. She had found her young.
+Something like reason and common sense had
+come to her rescue; she had taken time to look
+about, and behold! there was that precious doorway.
+She thrust her head into it, then sent back a
+call to her mate, then went farther in, then withdrew.
+"Yes, it is true, they are here, they are
+here!" Then she went in again, gave them the
+food in her beak, and then gave place to her
+mate, who, after similar demonstrations of joy,
+also gave them his morsel.</p>
+
+<p>Ted and I breathed freer. A burden had been
+taken from our minds and hearts, and we went
+cheerfully on our way. We had learned something,
+too; we had learned that when in the deep
+woods you think of bluebirds, bluebirds may be
+nearer you than you think.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>One mid-April morning two pairs of bluebirds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+were in very active and at times violent courtship
+about my grounds. I could not quite understand
+the meaning of all the fuss and flutter.
+Both birds of each pair were very demonstrative,
+but the female in each case the more so. She
+followed the male everywhere, lifting and twinkling
+her wings, and apparently seeking to win
+him by both word and gesture. If she was not
+telling him by that cheery, animated, confiding,
+softly endearing speech of hers, which she poured
+out incessantly, how much she loved him, what
+was she saying? She was constantly filled with
+a desire to perch upon the precise spot where he
+was sitting, and if he had not moved away I
+think she would have alighted upon his back.
+Now and then, when she flitted away from him,
+he followed her with like gestures and tones and
+demonstrations of affection, but never with quite
+the same ardor. The two pairs kept near each
+other, about the house, the bird-boxes, the trees,
+the posts and vines in the vineyard, filling the
+ear with their soft, insistent warbles, and the eye
+with their twinkling azure wings.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 337px;">
+<img src="images/003.jpg" width="337" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+BLUEBIRD<br />
+Upper, male; lower, female</div>
+
+<p>Was it this constant presence of rivals on both
+sides that so stimulated them and kept them up
+to such a pitch of courtship? Finally, after I
+had watched them over an hour, the birds began
+to come into collision. As they met in the vineyard,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+the two males clinched and fell to the
+ground, lying there for a moment with wings
+sprawled out, like birds brought down by a gun.
+Then they separated, and each returned to his
+mate, warbling and twinkling his wings. Very
+soon the females clinched and fell to the ground
+and fought savagely, rolling over and over each
+other, clawing and tweaking and locking beaks
+and hanging on like bull terriers. They did this
+repeatedly; once one of the males dashed in and
+separated them, by giving one of the females a
+sharp tweak and blow. Then the males were at
+it again, their blue plumage mixing with the
+green grass and ruffled by the ruddy soil. What
+a soft, feathery, ineffectual battle it seemed in
+both cases!&mdash;no sound, no blood, no flying feathers,
+just a sudden mixing up and general disarray
+of blue wings and tails and ruddy breasts, there
+on the ground; assault but no visible wounds;
+thrust of beak and grip of claw, but no feather
+loosened and but little ruffling; long holding of
+one down by the other, but no cry of pain or
+fury. It was the kind of battle that one likes to
+witness. The birds usually locked beaks, and
+held their grip half a minute at a time. One of
+the females would always alight by the struggling
+males and lift her wings and utter her soft
+notes, but what she said&mdash;whether she was encouraging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+one of the blue coats or berating the
+other, or imploring them both to desist, or egging
+them on&mdash;I could not tell. So far as I could
+understand her speech, it was the same that she
+had been uttering to her mate all the time.</p>
+
+<p>When my bluebirds dashed at each other with
+beak and claw, their preliminary utterances had
+to my ears anything but a hostile sound. Indeed,
+for the bluebird to make a harsh, discordant
+sound seems out of the question. Once, when
+the two males lay upon the ground with outspread
+wings and locked beaks, a robin flew
+down by them and for a moment gazed intently
+at the blue splash upon the grass, and then went
+his way.</p>
+
+<p>As the birds drifted about the grounds, first
+the males, then the females rolling on the grass
+or in the dust in fierce combat, and between
+times the members of each pair assuring each
+other of undying interest and attachment, I followed
+them, apparently quite unnoticed by them.
+Sometimes they would lie more than a minute
+upon the ground, each trying to keep his own or
+to break the other's hold. They seemed so oblivious
+of everything about them that I wondered
+if they might not at such times fall an easy prey
+to cats and hawks. Let me put their watchfulness
+to the test, I said. So, as the two males<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+clinched again and fell to the ground, I cautiously
+approached them, hat in hand. When ten feet
+away and unregarded, I made a sudden dash and
+covered them with my hat. The struggle continued
+for a few seconds under there, then all
+was still. Sudden darkness had fallen upon the
+field of battle. What did they think had happened?
+Presently their heads and wings began
+to brush the inside of my hat. Then all was still
+again. Then I spoke to them, called to them, exulted
+over them, but they betrayed no excitement
+or alarm. Occasionally a head or a body
+came in gentle contact with the top or the sides
+of my hat.</p>
+
+<p>But the two females were evidently agitated
+by the sudden disappearance of their contending
+lovers, and began uttering their mournful alarm-note.
+After a minute or two I lifted one side of
+my hat and out darted one of the birds; then I
+lifted the hat from the other. One of the females
+then rushed, apparently with notes of joy and
+congratulation, to one of the males, who gave
+her a spiteful tweak and blow. Then the other
+came and he served her the same. He was evidently
+a little bewildered, and not certain what
+had happened or who was responsible for it.
+Did he think the two females were in some way
+to blame? But he was soon reconciled to one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+them again, as was the other male with the other,
+yet the two couples did not separate till the males
+had come into collision once more. Presently, however,
+they drifted apart, and each pair was soon
+holding an animated conversation punctuated by
+those pretty wing gestures, about the two bird-boxes.</p>
+
+<p>These scenes of love and rivalry had lasted
+nearly all the forenoon, and matters between the
+birds apparently remained as they were before&mdash;the
+members of each pair quite satisfied with
+each other. One pair occupied one of the bird-boxes
+in the vineyard and reared two broods
+there during the season, but the other pair drifted
+away and took up their abode somewhere else.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE BLUEBIRD</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A wistful</span> note from out the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Pure, pure, pure," in plaintive tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if the wand'rer were alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hardly knew to sing or cry.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now a flash of eager wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flitting, twinkling by the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And pleadings sweet and am'rous call,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, now I know his heart doth sing!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O bluebird, welcome back again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy azure coat and ruddy vest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are hues that April loveth best,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm skies above the furrowed plain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The farm boy hears thy tender voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And visions come of crystal days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With sugar-camps in maple ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scenes that make his heart rejoice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lucid smoke drifts on the breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The steaming pans are mantling white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And thy blue wing's a joyous sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the brown and leafless trees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Now loosened currents glance and run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And buckets shine on sturdy boles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The forest folk peep from their holes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And work is play from sun to sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The downy beats his sounding limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The nuthatch pipes his nasal call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Robin perched on tree-top tall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heavenward lifts his evening hymn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now go and bring thy homesick bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Persuade her here is just the place<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To build a home and found a race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Downy's cell, my lodge beside.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE ROBIN</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Not</span> long after the bluebird comes the robin.
+In large numbers they scour the fields and groves.
+You hear their piping in the meadow, in the pasture,
+on the hillside. Walk in the woods, and the
+dry leaves rustle with the whir of their wings,
+the air is vocal with their cheery call. In excess
+of joy and vivacity, they run, leap, scream, chase
+each other through the air, diving and sweeping
+among the trees with perilous rapidity.</p>
+
+<p>In that free, fascinating, half-work-and-half-play
+pursuit,&mdash;sugar-making,&mdash;a pursuit which
+still lingers in many parts of New York, as in
+New England,&mdash;the robin is one's constant companion.
+When the day is sunny and the ground
+bare, you meet him at all points and hear him at
+all hours. At sunset, on the tops of the tall
+maples, with look heavenward, and in a spirit of
+utter abandonment, he carols his simple strain.
+And sitting thus amid the stark, silent trees,
+above the wet, cold earth, with the chill of winter
+still in the air, there is no fitter or sweeter songster
+in the whole round year. It is in keeping
+with the scene and the occasion. How round and
+genuine the notes are, and how eagerly our ears<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+drink them in! The first utterance, and the spell
+of winter is thoroughly broken, and the remembrance
+of it afar off.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most graceful of warriors is the
+robin. I know few prettier sights than two males
+challenging and curveting about each other upon
+the grass in early spring. Their attentions to each
+other are so courteous and restrained. In alternate
+curves and graceful sallies, they pursue and
+circumvent each other. First one hops a few feet,
+then the other, each one standing erect in true
+military style while his fellow passes him and describes
+the segment of an ellipse about him, both
+uttering the while a fine complacent warble in a
+high but suppressed key. Are they lovers or enemies?
+the beholder wonders, until they make
+a spring and are beak to beak in the twinkling
+of an eye, and perhaps mount a few feet into
+the air, but rarely actually deliver blows upon
+each other. Every thrust is parried, every movement
+met. They follow each other with dignified
+composure about the fields or lawn, into trees and
+upon the ground, with plumage slightly spread,
+breasts glowing, their lisping, shrill war-song just
+audible. It forms on the whole the most civil and
+high-bred tilt to be witnessed during the season.</p>
+
+<p>In the latter half of April, we pass through
+what I call the "robin racket,"&mdash;trains of three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+or four birds rushing pell-mell over the lawn and
+fetching up in a tree or bush, or occasionally
+upon the ground, all piping and screaming at
+the top of their voices, but whether in mirth or
+anger it is hard to tell. The nucleus of the train
+is a female. One cannot see that the males in
+pursuit of her are rivals; it seems rather as if they
+had united to hustle her out of the place. But
+somehow the matches are no doubt made and
+sealed during these mad rushes. Maybe the female
+shouts out to her suitors, "Who touches
+me first wins," and away she scurries like an
+arrow. The males shout out, "Agreed!" and
+away they go in pursuit, each trying to outdo the
+other. The game is a brief one. Before one can
+get the clew to it, the party has dispersed.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>The first year of my cabin life a pair of robins
+attempted to build a nest upon the round timber
+that forms the plate under my porch roof. But
+it was a poor place to build in. It took nearly a
+week's time and caused the birds a great waste
+of labor to find this out. The coarse material
+they brought for the foundation would not bed
+well upon the rounded surface of the timber, and
+every vagrant breeze that came along swept it
+off. My porch was kept littered with twigs and
+weed-stalks for days, till finally the birds abandoned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+the undertaking. The next season a wiser or
+more experienced pair made the attempt again, and
+succeeded. They placed the nest against the rafter
+where it joins the plate; they used mud from
+the start to level up with and to hold the first
+twigs and straws, and had soon completed a firm,
+shapely structure. When the young were about
+ready to fly, it was interesting to note that there
+was apparently an older and a younger, as in most
+families. One bird was more advanced than any
+of the others. Had the parent birds intentionally
+stimulated it with extra quantities of food, so as
+to be able to launch their offspring into the
+world one at a time? At any rate, one of the birds
+was ready to leave the nest a day and a half before
+any of the others. I happened to be looking
+at it when the first impulse to get outside the
+nest seemed to seize it. Its parents were encouraging
+it with calls and assurances from some
+rocks a few yards away. It answered their calls
+in vigorous, strident tones. Then it climbed over
+the edge of the nest upon the plate, took a few
+steps forward, then a few more, till it was a yard
+from the nest and near the end of the timber,
+and could look off into free space. Its parents
+apparently shouted, "Come on!" But its courage
+was not quite equal to the leap; it looked
+around, and, seeing how far it was from home,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+scampered back to the nest, and climbed into it
+like a frightened child. It had made its first journey
+into the world, but the home tie had brought it
+quickly back. A few hours afterward it journeyed
+to the end of the plate again, and then turned
+and rushed back. The third time its heart was
+braver, its wings stronger, and, leaping into the
+air with a shout, it flew easily to some rocks a
+dozen or more yards away. Each of the young
+in succession, at intervals of nearly a day, left
+the nest in this manner. There would be the first
+journey of a few feet along the plate, the first
+sudden panic at being so far from home, the
+rush back, a second and perhaps a third attempt,
+and then the irrevocable leap into the air, and a
+clamorous flight to a near-by bush or rock.
+Young birds never go back when they have once
+taken flight. The first free flap of the wings
+severs forever the ties that bind them to home.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>I recently observed a robin boring for grubs
+in a country dooryard. It is a common enough
+sight to witness one seize an angle-worm and
+drag it from its burrow in the turf, but I am not
+sure that I ever before saw one drill for grubs
+and bring the big white morsel to the surface.
+The robin I am speaking of had a nest of young
+in a maple near by, and she worked the neighborhood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+very industriously for food. She would
+run along over the short grass after the manner
+of robins, stopping every few feet, her form stiff
+and erect. Now and then she would suddenly
+bend her head toward the ground and bring eye
+or ear for a moment to bear intently upon it.
+Then she would spring to boring the turf vigorously
+with her bill, changing her attitude at each
+stroke, alert and watchful, throwing up the grass
+roots and little jets of soil, stabbing deeper and
+deeper, growing every moment more and more
+excited, till finally a fat grub was seized and
+brought forth. Time after time, during several
+days, I saw her mine for grubs in this way and
+drag them forth. How did she know where to
+drill? The insect was in every case an inch below
+the surface. Did she hear it gnawing the
+roots of the grasses, or did she see a movement
+in the turf beneath which the grub was at work?
+I know not. I only know that she struck her
+game unerringly each time. Only twice did I
+see her make a few thrusts and then desist, as if
+she had been for the moment deceived.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE FLICKER</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Another</span> April comer, who arrives shortly after
+Robin Redbreast, with whom he associates both
+at this season and in the autumn, is the golden-winged
+woodpecker, <i>alias</i> "high-hole," <i>alias</i>
+"flicker," <i>alias</i> "yarup," <i>alias</i> "yellow-hammer."
+He is an old favorite of my boyhood, and
+his note to me means very much. He announces
+his arrival by a long, loud call, repeated from the
+dry branch of some tree, or a stake in the fence,&mdash;a
+thoroughly melodious April sound. I think
+how Solomon finished that beautiful description
+of spring, "and the voice of the turtle is heard
+in our land," and see that a description of spring
+in this farming country, to be equally characteristic,
+should culminate in like manner,&mdash;"and the
+call of the high-hole comes up from the wood."
+It is a loud, strong, sonorous call, and does not
+seem to imply an answer, but rather to subserve
+some purpose of love or music. It is "Yarup's"
+proclamation of peace and good-will to all.</p>
+
+<p>I recall an ancient maple standing sentry to a
+large sugar-bush, that, year after year, afforded
+protection to a brood of yellow-hammers in its
+decayed heart. A week or two before the nesting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+seemed actually to have begun, three or four
+of these birds might be seen, on almost any
+bright morning, gamboling and courting amid
+its decayed branches. Sometimes you would hear
+only a gentle persuasive cooing, or a quiet confidential
+chattering; then that long, loud call,
+taken up by first one, then another, as they sat
+about upon the naked limbs; anon, a sort of
+wild, rollicking laughter, intermingled with various
+cries, yelps, and squeals, as if some incident
+had excited their mirth and ridicule. Whether
+this social hilarity and boisterousness is in celebration
+of the pairing or mating ceremony, or
+whether it is only a sort of annual "house-warming"
+common among high-holes on resuming
+their summer quarters, is a question upon which
+I reserve my judgment.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 358px;">
+<img src="images/004.jpg" width="358" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+FLICKER</div>
+
+<p>Unlike most of his kinsmen, the golden-wing
+prefers the fields and the borders of the forest
+to the deeper seclusion of the woods, and hence,
+contrary to the habit of his tribe, obtains most
+of his subsistence from the ground, probing it
+for ants and crickets. He is not quite satisfied
+with being a woodpecker. He courts the society
+of the robin and the finches, abandons the trees
+for the meadow, and feeds eagerly upon berries
+and grain. What may be the final upshot of this
+course of living is a question worthy the attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+of Darwin. Will his taking to the ground
+and his pedestrian feats result in lengthening his
+legs, his feeding upon berries and grains subdue
+his tints and soften his voice, and his associating
+with Robin put a song into his heart?</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>In the cavity of an apple-tree, much nearer the
+house than they usually build, a pair of high-holes
+took up their abode. A knot-hole which led
+to the decayed interior was enlarged, the live
+wood being cut away as clean as a squirrel would
+have done it. The inside preparations I could
+not witness, but day after day, as I passed near,
+I heard the bird hammering away, evidently beating
+down obstructions and shaping and enlarging
+the cavity. The chips were not brought out, but
+were used rather to floor the interior. The woodpeckers
+are not nest-builders, but rather nest-carvers.</p>
+
+<p>The time seemed very short before the voices
+of the young were heard in the heart of the old
+tree,&mdash;at first feebly, but waxing stronger day
+by day until they could be heard many rods distant.
+When I put my hand upon the trunk of
+the tree, they would set up an eager, expectant
+chattering; but if I climbed up it toward the
+opening, they soon detected the unusual sound
+and would hush quickly, only now and then uttering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+a warning note. Long before they were fully
+fledged they clambered up to the orifice to receive
+their food. As but one could stand in the
+opening at a time, there was a good deal of elbowing
+and struggling for this position. It was a
+very desirable one aside from the advantages it
+had when food was served; it looked out upon
+the great, shining world, into which the young
+birds seemed never tired of gazing. The fresh
+air must have been a consideration also, for the
+interior of a high-hole's dwelling is not sweet.
+When the parent birds came with food, the young
+one in the opening did not get it all, but after
+he had received a portion, either on his own motion
+or on a hint from the old one, he would give
+place to the one behind him. Still, one bird evidently
+outstripped his fellows, and in the race of
+life was two or three days in advance of them.
+His voice was loudest and his head oftenest at
+the window. But I noticed that, when he had
+kept the position too long, the others evidently
+made it uncomfortable in his rear, and, after
+"fidgeting" about awhile, he would be compelled
+to "back down." But retaliation was then
+easy, and I fear his mates spent few easy moments
+at that lookout. They would close their
+eyes and slide back into the cavity as if the world
+had suddenly lost all its charms for them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This bird was, of course, the first to leave the
+nest. For two days before that event he kept his
+position in the opening most of the time and sent
+forth his strong voice incessantly. The old ones
+abstained from feeding him almost entirely, no
+doubt to encourage his exit. As I stood looking
+at him one afternoon and noting his progress, he
+suddenly reached a resolution,&mdash;seconded, I have
+no doubt, from the rear,&mdash;and launched forth
+upon his untried wings. They served him well,
+and carried him about fifty yards up-hill the first
+heat. The second day after, the next in size and
+spirit left in the same manner; then another, till
+only one remained. The parent birds ceased their
+visits to him, and for one day he called and
+called till our ears were tired of the sound. His
+was the faintest heart of all. Then he had none
+to encourage him from behind. He left the nest
+and clung to the outer bole of the tree, and yelped
+and piped for an hour longer; then he committed
+himself to his wings and went his way like the
+rest.</p>
+
+<p>The matchmaking of the high-holes, which
+often comes under my observation, is in marked
+contrast to that of the robins and the bluebirds.
+There does not appear to be any anger or any
+blows. The male or two males will alight on a
+limb in front of the female, and go through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+with a series of bowings and scrapings that are
+truly comical. He spreads his tail, he puffs
+out his breast, he throws back his head and
+then bends his body to the right and to the
+left, uttering all the while a curious musical
+hiccough. The female confronts him unmoved,
+but whether her attitude is critical or defensive,
+I cannot tell. Presently she flies away, followed
+by her suitor or suitors, and the little
+comedy is enacted on another stump or tree.
+Among all the woodpeckers the drum plays an
+important part in the matchmaking. The male
+takes up his stand on a dry, resonant limb, or
+on the ridgeboard of a building, and beats the
+loudest call he is capable of. A favorite drum of
+the high-holes about me is a hollow wooden tube,
+a section of a pump, which stands as a bird-box
+upon my summer-house. It is a good instrument;
+its tone is sharp and clear. A high-hole alights
+upon it, and sends forth a rattle that can be
+heard a long way off. Then he lifts up his head
+and utters that long April call, <i>Wick, wick, wick,
+wick</i>. Then he drums again. If the female does
+not find him, it is not because he does not make
+noise enough. But his sounds are all welcome to
+the ear. They are simple and primitive, and voice
+well a certain sentiment of the April days. As I
+write these lines I hear through the half-open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+door his call come up from a distant field. Then
+I hear the steady hammering of one that has been
+for three days trying to penetrate the weather
+boarding of the big icehouse by the river, and
+to reach the sawdust filling for a nesting-place.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE PH&#338;BE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Another</span> April bird whose memory I fondly
+cherish is the ph&#339;be-bird, the pioneer of the flycatchers.
+In the inland farming districts, I used
+to notice him, on some bright morning about
+Easter Day, proclaiming his arrival, with much
+variety of motion and attitude, from the peak of
+the barn or hay-shed. As yet, you may have
+heard only the plaintive, homesick note of the
+bluebird, or the faint trill of the song sparrow;
+and the ph&#339;be's clear, vivacious assurance of his
+veritable bodily presence among us again is welcomed
+by all ears. At agreeable intervals in his
+lay he describes a circle or an ellipse in the air,
+ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I
+suspect, as an artistic flourish, thrown in to make
+up in some way for the deficiency of his musical
+performance. If plainness of dress indicates
+powers of song, as it usually does, the ph&#339;be
+ought to be unrivaled in musical ability, for
+surely that ashen-gray suit is the superlative of
+plainness; and that form, likewise, would hardly
+pass for a "perfect figure" of a bird. The seasonableness
+of his coming, however, and his civil,
+neighborly ways, shall make up for all deficiencies
+in song and plumage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The ph&#339;be-bird is a wise architect and perhaps
+enjoys as great an immunity from danger, both
+in its person and its nest, as any other bird. Its
+modest ashen-gray suit is the color of the rocks
+where it builds, and the moss of which it makes
+such free use gives to its nest the look of a natural
+growth or accretion. But when it comes into
+the barn or under the shed to build, as it so
+frequently does, the moss is rather out of place.
+Doubtless in time the bird will take the hint, and
+when she builds in such places will leave the moss
+out. I noted but two nests the summer I am
+speaking of: one in a barn failed of issue, on
+account of the rats, I suspect, though the little
+owl may have been the depredator; the other, in
+the woods, sent forth three young. This latter
+nest was most charmingly and ingeniously placed.
+I discovered it while in quest of pond-lilies, in a
+long, deep, level stretch of water in the woods.
+A large tree had blown over at the edge of the
+water, and its dense mass of upturned roots, with
+the black, peaty soil filling the interstices, was
+like the fragment of a wall several feet high, rising
+from the edge of the languid current. In a
+niche in this earthy wall, and visible and accessible
+only from the water, a ph&#339;be had built her
+nest and reared her brood. I paddled my boat up
+and came alongside prepared to take the family<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+aboard. The young, nearly ready to fly, were
+quite undisturbed by my presence, having probably
+been assured that no danger need be apprehended
+from that side. It was not a likely
+place for minks, or they would not have been so
+secure.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>THE COMING OF PH&#338;BE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> buckets shine 'gainst maple trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And drop by drop the sap doth flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When days are warm, but still nights freeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And deep in woods lie drifts of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When cattle low and fret in stall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then morning brings the ph&#339;be's call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">"Ph&#339;be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ph&#339;be, ph&#339;be," a cheery note,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While cackling hens make such a rout.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When snowbanks run, and hills are bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And early bees hum round the hive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When woodchucks creep from out their lair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Right glad to find themselves alive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When sheep go nibbling through the fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Ph&#339;be oft her name reveals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">"Ph&#339;be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ph&#339;be, ph&#339;be," a plaintive cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While jack-snipes call in morning sky.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When wild ducks quack in creek and pond<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bluebirds perch on mullein-stalks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When spring has burst her icy bond<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in brown fields the sleek crow walks,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">When chipmunks court in roadside walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Ph&#339;be from the ridgeboard calls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">"Ph&#339;be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ph&#339;be, ph&#339;be," and lifts her cap,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While smoking Dick doth boil the sap.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE COWBIRD</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> cow blackbird is a noticeable songster in
+April, though it takes a back seat a little later.
+It utters a peculiarly liquid April sound. Indeed,
+one would think its crop was full of water, its
+notes so bubble up and regurgitate, and are delivered
+with such an apparent stomachic contraction.
+This bird is the only feathered polygamist
+we have. The females are greatly in excess of
+the males, and the latter are usually attended by
+three or four of the former. As soon as the
+other birds begin to build, they are on the <i>qui
+vive</i>, prowling about like gypsies, not to steal
+the young of others, but to steal their eggs into
+other birds' nests, and so shirk the labor and responsibility
+of hatching and rearing their own
+young.</p>
+
+<p>The cowbird's tactics are probably to watch
+the movements of the parent bird. She may often
+be seen searching anxiously through the trees or
+bushes for a suitable nest, yet she may still oftener
+be seen perched upon some good point of
+observation watching the birds as they come and
+go about her. There is no doubt that, in many
+cases, the cowbird makes room for her own illegitimate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+egg in the nest by removing one of the
+bird's own. I found a sparrow's nest with two
+sparrow's eggs and one cowbird's egg, and another
+egg lying a foot or so below it on the
+ground. I replaced the ejected egg, and the
+next day found it again removed, and another
+cowbird's egg in its place. I put it back the second
+time, when it was again ejected, or destroyed,
+for I failed to find it anywhere. Very alert and
+sensitive birds, like the warblers, often bury the
+strange egg beneath a second nest built on top
+of the old. A lady living in the suburbs of an
+Eastern city heard cries of distress one morning
+from a pair of house wrens that had a nest in a
+honeysuckle on her front porch. On looking out
+of the window, she beheld this little comedy,&mdash;comedy
+from her point of view, but no doubt
+grim tragedy from the point of view of the
+wrens: a cowbird with a wren's egg in its beak
+running rapidly along the walk, with the outraged
+wrens forming a procession behind it,
+screaming, scolding, and gesticulating as only
+these voluble little birds can. The cowbird had
+probably been surprised in the act of violating
+the nest, and the wrens were giving her a piece
+of their minds.</p>
+
+<p>Every cowbird is reared at the expense of two
+or more song-birds. For every one of these dusky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+little pedestrians there amid the grazing cattle
+there are two or more sparrows, or vireos, or
+warblers, the less. It is a big price to pay,&mdash;two
+larks for a bunting,&mdash;two sovereigns for a
+shilling; but Nature does not hesitate occasionally
+to contradict herself in just this way. The
+young of the cowbird is disproportionately large
+and aggressive, one might say hoggish. When
+disturbed, it will clasp the nest and scream and
+snap its beak threateningly. One was hatched out
+in a song sparrow's nest which was under my observation,
+and would soon have overridden and
+overborne the young sparrow which came out of
+the shell a few hours later, had I not interfered
+from time to time and lent the young sparrow a
+helping hand. Every day I would visit the nest
+and take the sparrow out from under the potbellied
+interloper, and place it on top, so that
+presently it was able to hold its own against its
+enemy. Both birds became fledged and left the
+nest about the same time. Whether the race was
+an even one after that, I know not.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CHIPPING SPARROW</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the true flycatcher catches a fly, it is
+quick business. There is no strife, no pursuit,&mdash;one
+fell swoop, and the matter is ended. Now
+note that yonder little sparrow is less skilled. It is
+the chippy, and he finds his subsistence properly
+in various seeds and the larv&aelig; of insects,
+though he occasionally has higher aspirations,
+and seeks to emulate the pewee, commencing and
+ending his career as a flycatcher by an awkward
+chase after a beetle or "miller." He is hunting
+around in the grass now, I suspect, with the desire
+to indulge this favorite whim. There!&mdash;the
+opportunity is afforded him. Away goes a little
+cream-colored meadow-moth in the most tortuous
+course he is capable of, and away goes Chippy
+in pursuit. The contest is quite comical, though
+I dare say it is serious enough to the moth. The
+chase continues for a few yards, when there is a
+sudden rushing to cover in the grass,&mdash;then a
+taking to wing again, when the search has become
+too close, and the moth has recovered his
+wind. Chippy chirps angrily, and is determined
+not to be beaten. Keeping, with the slightest
+effort, upon the heels of the fugitive, he is ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+on the point of halting to snap him up, but
+never quite does it; and so, between disappointment
+and expectation, is soon disgusted, and
+returns to pursue his more legitimate means of
+subsistence.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>Last summer I made this record in my notebook:
+"A nest of young robins in the maple in
+front of the house being fed by a chipping sparrow.
+The little sparrow is very attentive; seems
+decidedly fond of her adopted babies. The old
+robins resent her services, and hustle her out of
+the tree whenever they find her near the nest.
+(It was this hurried departure of Chippy from
+the tree that first attracted my attention.) She
+watches her chances, and comes with food in
+their absence. The young birds are about ready
+to fly, and when the chippy feeds them her head
+fairly disappears in their capacious mouths. She
+jerks it back as if she were afraid of being swallowed.
+Then she lingers near them on the edge of
+the nest, and seems to admire them. When she sees
+the old robin coming, she spreads her wings in an
+attitude of defense, and then flies away. I wonder
+if she has had the experience of rearing a
+cow-bunting?" (A day later.) "The robins are
+out of the nest, and the little sparrow continues
+to feed them. She approaches them rather timidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+and hesitatingly, as if she feared they might
+swallow her, then thrusts her titbit quickly into
+the distended mouth and jerks back."</p>
+
+<p>Whether the chippy had lost her own brood,
+whether she was an unmated bird, or whether
+the case was simply the overflowing of the maternal
+instinct, it would be interesting to know.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CHEWINK</h2>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 368px;">
+<img src="images/005.jpg" width="368" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+CHEWINK<br />
+Upper, male; lower, female</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> chewink is a shy bird, but not stealthy.
+It is very inquisitive, and sets up a great scratching
+among the leaves, apparently to attract your
+attention. The male is perhaps the most conspicuously
+marked of all the ground-birds except
+the bobolink, being black above, bay on the
+sides, and white beneath. The bay is in compliment
+to the leaves he is forever scratching among,&mdash;they
+have rustled against his breast and sides
+so long that these parts have taken their color;
+but whence come the white and the black? The
+bird seems to be aware that his color betrays him,
+for there are few birds in the woods so careful
+about keeping themselves screened from view.
+When in song, its favorite perch is the top of
+some high bush near to cover. On being disturbed
+at such times, it pitches down into the
+brush and is instantly lost to view.</p>
+
+<p>This is the bird that Thomas Jefferson wrote
+to Wilson about, greatly exciting the latter's curiosity.
+Wilson was just then upon the threshold
+of his career as an ornithologist, and had
+made a drawing of the Canada jay which he sent
+to the President. It was a new bird, and in reply<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+Jefferson called his attention to a "curious
+bird" which was everywhere to be heard, but
+scarcely ever to be seen. He had for twenty
+years interested the young sportsmen of his
+neighborhood to shoot one for him, but without
+success. "It is in all the forests, from spring to
+fall," he says in his letter, "and never but on
+the tops of the tallest trees, from which it perpetually
+serenades us with some of the sweetest
+notes, and as clear as those of the nightingale. I
+have followed it for miles, without ever but once
+getting a good view of it. It is of the size and
+make of the mockingbird, lightly thrush-colored
+on the back, and a grayish-white on the breast
+and belly. Mr. Randolph, my son-in-law, was in
+possession of one which had been shot by a
+neighbor," etc. Randolph pronounced it a flycatcher,
+which was a good way wide of the mark.
+Jefferson must have seen only the female, after
+all his tramp, from his description of the color;
+but he was doubtless following his own great
+thoughts more than the bird, else he would have
+had an earlier view. The bird was not a new one,
+but was well known then as the ground-robin.
+The President put Wilson on the wrong scent
+by his erroneous description, and it was a long
+time before the latter got at the truth of the
+case. But Jefferson's letter is a good sample of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+those which specialists often receive from intelligent
+persons who have seen or heard something
+in their line very curious or entirely new, and
+who set the man of science agog by a description
+of the supposed novelty,&mdash;a description that
+generally fits the facts of the case about as well
+as your coat fits the chair-back. Strange and curious
+things in the air, and in the water, and in
+the earth beneath, are seen every day except by
+those who are looking for them, namely, the
+naturalists. When Wilson or Audubon gets his
+eye on the unknown bird, the illusion vanishes,
+and your phenomenon turns out to be one of the
+commonplaces of the fields or woods.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE BROWN THRASHER</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Our</span> long-tailed thrush, or thrasher, delights
+in a high branch of some solitary tree, whence it
+will pour out its rich and intricate warble for an
+hour together. This bird is the great American
+chipper. There is no other bird that I know of
+that can chip with such emphasis and military
+decision as this yellow-eyed songster. It is like
+the click of a giant gunlock. Why is the thrasher
+so stealthy? It always seems to be going about
+on tip-toe. I never knew it to steal anything, and
+yet it skulks and hides like a fugitive from justice.
+One never sees it flying aloft in the air and
+traversing the world openly, like most birds,
+but it darts along fences and through bushes as
+if pursued by a guilty conscience. Only when
+the musical fit is upon it does it come up into
+full view, and invite the world to hear and behold.</p>
+
+<p>Years pass without my finding a brown thrasher's
+nest; it is not a nest you are likely to stumble
+upon in your walk; it is hidden as a miser hides
+his gold, and watched as jealously. The male
+pours out his rich and triumphant song from the
+tallest tree he can find, and fairly challenges you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+come and look for his treasures in his vicinity. But
+you will not find them if you go. The nest is somewhere
+on the outer circle of his song; he is never
+so imprudent as to take up his stand very near it.
+The artists who draw those cozy little pictures of
+a brooding mother bird, with the male perched but
+a yard away in full song, do not copy from nature.
+The thrasher's nest I found was thirty or
+forty rods from the point where the male was
+wont to indulge in his brilliant recitative. It was
+in an open field under a low ground-juniper. My
+dog disturbed the sitting bird as I was passing
+near. The nest could be seen only by lifting up
+and parting away the branches. All the arts of
+concealment had been carefully studied. It was
+the last place you would think of looking in, and,
+if you did look, nothing was visible but the dense
+green circle of the low-spreading juniper. When
+you approached, the bird would keep her place
+till you had begun to stir the branches, when
+she would start out, and, just skimming the
+ground, make a bright brown line to the near
+fence and bushes. I confidently expected that
+this nest would escape molestation, but it did not.
+Its discovery by myself and dog probably opened
+the door for ill luck, as one day, not long afterward,
+when I peeped in upon it, it was empty. The
+proud song of the male had ceased from his accustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+tree, and the pair were seen no more
+in that vicinity.</p>
+
+<p>After a pair of nesting birds have been broken
+up once or twice during the season, they become
+almost desperate, and will make great efforts to
+outwit their enemies. A pair of brown thrashers
+built their nest in a pasture-field under a low,
+scrubby apple-tree which the cattle had browsed
+down till it spread a thick, wide mass of thorny
+twigs only a few inches above the ground. Some
+blackberry briers had also grown there, so that the
+screen was perfect. My dog first started the bird,
+as I was passing near. By stooping low and peering
+intently, I could make out the nest and eggs.
+Two or three times a week, as I passed by, I
+would pause to see how the nest was prospering.
+The mother bird would keep her place, her yellow
+eyes never blinking. One morning, as I looked
+into her tent, I found the nest empty. Some
+night-prowler, probably a skunk or a fox, or
+maybe a black snake or a red squirrel by day,
+had plundered it. It would seem as if it was too
+well screened; it was in such a spot as any depredator
+would be apt to explore. "Surely," he
+would say, "this is a likely place for a nest."
+The birds then moved over the hill a hundred
+rods or more, much nearer the house, and in some
+rather open bushes tried again. But again they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+came to grief. Then, after some delay, the mother
+bird made a bold stroke. She seemed to
+reason with herself thus: "Since I have fared so
+disastrously in seeking seclusion for my nest, I
+will now adopt the opposite tactics, and come
+out fairly in the open. What hides me hides my
+enemies: let us try greater publicity." So she
+came out and built her nest by a few small shoots
+that grew beside the path that divides the two
+vineyards, and where we passed to and fro many
+times daily. I discovered her by chance early in
+the morning as I proceeded to my work. She
+started up at my feet and flitted quickly along
+above the ploughed ground, almost as red as the
+soil. I admired her audacity. Surely no prowler
+by night or day would suspect a nest in this open
+and exposed place. There was no cover by which
+they could approach, and no concealment anywhere.
+The nest was a hasty affair, as if the
+birds' patience at nest-building had been about
+exhausted. Presently an egg appeared, and then
+the next day another, and on the fourth day a
+third. No doubt the bird would have succeeded
+this time had not man interfered. In cultivating
+the vineyards the horse and cultivator had to
+pass over this very spot. Upon this the bird had
+not calculated. I determined to assist her. I
+called my man, and told him there was one spot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+in that vineyard, no bigger than his hand, where
+the horse's foot must not be allowed to fall, nor
+tooth of cultivator to touch. Then I showed him
+the nest, and charged him to avoid it. Probably
+if I had kept the secret to myself, and let the
+bird run her own risk, the nest would have escaped.
+But the result was that the man, in elaborately
+trying to avoid the nest, overdid the
+matter; the horse plunged, and set his foot
+squarely upon it. Such a little spot, the chances
+were few that the horse's foot would fall exactly
+there; and yet it did, and the birds' hopes were
+again dashed. The pair then disappeared from
+my vicinity, and I saw them no more.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE HOUSE WREN</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">A few</span> years ago I put up a little bird-house
+in the back end of my garden for the accommodation
+of the wrens, and every season a pair have
+taken up their abode there. One spring a pair of
+bluebirds looked into the tenement and lingered
+about several days, leading me to hope that they
+would conclude to occupy it. But they finally
+went away, and later in the season the wrens appeared,
+and, after a little coquetting, were regularly
+installed in their old quarters, and were as
+happy as only wrens can be.</p>
+
+<p>One of our younger poets, Myron Benton, saw
+a little bird</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="i0">"Ruffled with whirlwind of his ecstasies,"<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noin">which must have been the wren, as I know of no
+other bird that so throbs and palpitates with music
+as this little vagabond. And the pair I speak
+of seemed exceptionally happy, and the male had
+a small tornado of song in his crop that kept
+him "ruffled" every moment in the day. But before
+their honeymoon was over the bluebirds returned.
+I knew something was wrong before I was
+up in the morning. Instead of that voluble and
+gushing song outside the window, I heard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+wrens scolding and crying at a fearful rate, and
+on going out saw the bluebirds in possession of
+the box. The poor wrens were in despair; they
+wrung their hands and tore their hair, after the
+wren fashion, but chiefly did they rattle out their
+disgust and wrath at the intruders. I have no
+doubt that, if it could have been interpreted, it
+would have been proven the rankest and most
+voluble billingsgate ever uttered. For the wren
+is saucy, and he has a tongue in his head that
+can outwag any other tongue known to me.</p>
+
+<p>The bluebirds said nothing, but the male kept
+an eye on Mr. Wren, and, when he came too
+near, gave chase, driving him to cover under the
+fence, or under a rubbish-heap or other object,
+where the wren would scold and rattle away,
+while his pursuer sat on the fence or the pea-brush
+waiting for him to reappear.</p>
+
+<p>Days passed, and the usurpers prospered and
+the outcasts were wretched; but the latter lingered
+about, watching and abusing their enemies, and
+hoping, no doubt, that things would take a turn,
+as they presently did. The outraged wrens were
+fully avenged. The mother bluebird had laid her
+full complement of eggs and was beginning to
+set, when one day, as her mate was perched above
+her on the barn, along came a boy with one of
+those wicked elastic slings and cut him down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+with a pebble. There he lay like a bit of sky
+fallen upon the grass. The widowed bird seemed
+to understand what had happened, and without
+much ado disappeared next day in quest of another
+mate.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time the wrens were beside themselves
+with delight; they fairly screamed with joy.
+If the male was before "ruffled with whirlwind
+of his ecstasies," he was now in danger of being
+rent asunder. He inflated his throat and caroled
+as wren never caroled before. And the female,
+too, how she cackled and darted about! How
+busy they both were! Rushing into the nest,
+they hustled those eggs out in less than a minute,
+wren time. They carried in new material,
+and by the third day were fairly installed again
+in their old quarters; but on the third day, so
+rapidly are these little dramas played, the female
+bluebird reappeared with another mate. Ah! how
+the wren stock went down then! What dismay
+and despair filled again those little breasts! It
+was pitiful. They did not scold as before, but
+after a day or two withdrew from the garden,
+dumb with grief, and gave up the struggle.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>The chatter of a second brood of nearly fledged
+wrens is heard now (August 20) in an oriole's
+nest suspended from the branch of an apple-tree<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+near where I write. Earlier in the season the
+parent birds made long and determined attempts
+to establish themselves in a cavity that had been
+occupied by a pair of bluebirds. The original
+proprietor of the place was the downy woodpecker.
+He had excavated it the autumn before,
+and had passed the winter there, often to my
+certain knowledge lying abed till nine o'clock in
+the morning. In the spring he went elsewhere,
+probably with a female, to begin the season in
+new quarters. The bluebirds early took possession,
+and in June their first brood had flown.
+The wrens had been hanging around, evidently
+with an eye on the place (such little comedies
+may be witnessed anywhere), and now very naturally
+thought it was their turn. A day or two
+after the young bluebirds had flown, I noticed
+some fine, dry grass clinging to the entrance to
+the cavity; a circumstance which I understood
+a few moments later, when the wren rushed by
+me into the cover of a small Norway spruce,
+hotly pursued by the male bluebird. It was a
+brown streak and a blue streak pretty close together.
+The wrens had gone to housecleaning,
+and the bluebird had returned to find his bed
+and bedding being pitched out of doors, and
+had thereupon given the wrens to understand in
+the most emphatic manner that he had no intention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+of vacating the premises so early in the season.
+Day after day, for more than two weeks, the
+male bluebird had to clear his premises of these
+intruders. It occupied much of his time and not
+a little of mine, as I sat with a book in a summer-house
+near by, laughing at his pretty fury and
+spiteful onset. On two occasions the wren rushed
+under the chair in which I sat, and a streak of
+blue lightning almost flashed in my very face.
+One day, just as I had passed the tree in which
+the cavity was located, I heard the wren scream
+desperately; turning, I saw the little vagabond
+fall into the grass with the wrathful bluebird
+fairly upon him; the latter had returned just in
+time to catch him, and was evidently bent on
+punishing him well. But in the squabble in the
+grass the wren escaped and took refuge in the
+friendly evergreen. The bluebird paused for a
+moment with outstretched wings looking for the
+fugitive, then flew away. A score of times during
+the month of June did I see the wren taxing
+every energy to get away from the bluebird. He
+would dart into the stone wall, under the floor of
+the summer-house, into the weeds,&mdash;anywhere
+to hide his diminished head. The bluebird, with
+his bright coat, looked like an officer in uniform
+in pursuit of some wicked, rusty little street
+gamin. Generally the favorite house of refuge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+of the wrens was the little spruce, into which
+their pursuer made no attempt to follow them.
+The female would sit concealed amid the branches,
+chattering in a scolding, fretful way, while the
+male with his eye upon his tormentor would
+perch on the topmost shoot and sing. Why he
+sang at such times, whether in triumph and derision,
+or to keep his courage up and reassure his
+mate, I could not make out. When his song was
+suddenly cut short, and I glanced to see him dart
+down into the spruce, my eye usually caught a
+twinkle of blue wings hovering near. The wrens
+finally gave up the fight, and their enemies reared
+their second brood in peace.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SONG SPARROW</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first song sparrow's nest I observed in the
+spring of 1881 was in a field under a fragment of
+a board, the board being raised from the ground
+a couple of inches by two poles. It had its full
+complement of eggs, and probably sent forth a
+brood of young birds, though as to this I cannot
+speak positively, as I neglected to observe it further.
+It was well sheltered and concealed, and was
+not easily come at by any of its natural enemies,
+save snakes and weasels. But concealment often
+avails little. In May, a song sparrow, which had
+evidently met with disaster earlier in the season,
+built its nest in a thick mass of woodbine against
+the side of my house, about fifteen feet from the
+ground. Perhaps it took the hint from its cousin
+the English sparrow. The nest was admirably
+placed, protected from the storms by the overhanging
+eaves and from all eyes by the thick
+screen of leaves. Only by patiently watching the
+suspicious bird, as she lingered near with food in
+her beak, did I discover its whereabouts. That
+brood is safe, I thought, beyond doubt. But it
+was not: the nest was pillaged one night, either
+by an owl, or else by a rat that had climbed into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+the vine, seeking an entrance to the house. The
+mother bird, after reflecting upon her ill luck
+about a week, seemed to resolve to try a different
+system of tactics, and to throw all appearances
+of concealment aside. She built a nest a
+few yards from the house, beside the drive, upon
+a smooth piece of greensward. There was not a
+weed or a shrub or anything whatever to conceal
+it or mark its site. The structure was completed,
+and incubation had begun, before I discovered
+what was going on. "Well, well," I said, looking
+down upon the bird almost at my feet, "this is going
+to the other extreme indeed; now the cats
+will have you." The desperate little bird sat there
+day after day, looking like a brown leaf pressed
+down in the short green grass. As the weather
+grew hot, her position became very trying. It
+was no longer a question of keeping the eggs
+warm, but of keeping them from roasting. The
+sun had no mercy on her, and she fairly panted
+in the middle of the day. In such an emergency
+the male robin has been known to perch above
+the sitting female and shade her with his outstretched
+wings. But in this case there was no
+perch for the male bird, had he been disposed to
+make a sunshade of himself. I thought to lend a
+hand in this direction myself, and so stuck a leafy
+twig beside the nest. This was probably an unwise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+interference: it guided disaster to the spot;
+the nest was broken up, and the mother bird was
+probably caught, as I never saw her afterward.</p>
+
+<p>One day a tragedy was enacted a few yards
+from where I was sitting with a book: two song
+sparrows were trying to defend their nest against
+a black snake. The curious, interrogating note
+of a chicken who had suddenly come upon the
+scene in his walk first caused me to look up from
+my reading. There were the sparrows, with
+wings raised in a way peculiarly expressive of
+horror and dismay, rushing about a low clump
+of grass and bushes. Then, looking more closely,
+I saw the glistening form of the black snake, and
+the quick movement of his head as he tried to
+seize the birds. The sparrows darted about and
+through the grass and weeds, trying to beat the
+snake off. Their tails and wings were spread, and,
+panting with the heat and the desperate struggle,
+they presented a most singular spectacle. They
+uttered no cry, not a sound escaped them; they
+were plainly speechless with horror and dismay.
+Not once did they drop their wings, and the
+peculiar expression of those uplifted palms, as
+it were, I shall never forget. It occurred to me
+that perhaps here was a case of attempted bird-charming
+on the part of the snake, so I looked
+on from behind the fence. The birds charged the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+snake and harassed him from every side, but were
+evidently under no spell save that of courage in
+defending their nest. Every moment or two I
+could see the head and neck of the serpent make
+a sweep at the birds, when the one struck at would
+fall back, and the other would renew the assault
+from the rear. There appeared to be little danger
+that the snake could strike and hold one of
+the birds, though I trembled for them, they were
+so bold and approached so near to the snake's
+head. Time and again he sprang at them, but
+without success. How the poor things panted, and
+held up their wings appealingly! Then the snake
+glided off to the near fence, barely escaping the
+stone which I hurled at him. I found the nest
+rifled and deranged; whether it had contained
+eggs or young, I know not. The male sparrow
+had cheered me many a day with his song,
+and I blamed myself for not having rushed
+at once to the rescue, when the arch enemy
+was upon him. There is probably little truth in
+the popular notion that snakes charm birds. The
+black snake is the most subtle, alert, and devilish
+of our snakes, and I have never seen him have
+any but young, helpless birds in his mouth.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>If one has always built one's nest upon the
+ground, and if one comes of a race of ground-builders,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+it is a risky experiment to build in a
+tree. The conditions are vastly different. One of
+my near neighbors, a little song sparrow, learned
+this lesson the past season. She grew ambitious;
+she departed from the traditions of her race, and
+placed her nest in a tree. Such a pretty spot she
+chose, too,&mdash;the pendent cradle formed by the interlaced
+sprays of two parallel branches of a Norway
+spruce. These branches shoot out almost horizontally;
+indeed, the lower ones become quite so
+in spring, and the side shoots with which they are
+clothed droop down, forming the slopes of miniature
+ridges; where the slopes of two branches
+join, a little valley is formed, which often looks
+more stable than it really is. My sparrow selected
+one of these little valleys about six feet from the
+ground, and quite near the walls of the house.
+"Here," she thought, "I will build my nest, and
+pass the heat of June in a miniature Norway.
+This tree is the fir-clad mountain, and this little
+vale on its side I select for my own." She carried
+up a great quantity of coarse grass and straws
+for the foundation, just as she would have done
+upon the ground. On the top of this mass there
+gradually came into shape the delicate structure
+of her nest, compacting and refining till its delicate
+carpet of hairs and threads was reached. So
+sly as the little bird was about it, too,&mdash;every moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+on her guard lest you discover her secret!
+Five eggs were laid, and incubation was far advanced,
+when the storms and winds came. The
+cradle indeed did rock. The boughs did not break,
+but they swayed and separated as you would part
+your two interlocked hands. The ground of the
+little valley fairly gave way, the nest tilted over
+till its contents fell into the chasm. It was like
+an earthquake that destroys a hamlet.</p>
+
+<p>No born tree-builder would have placed its
+nest in such a situation. Birds that build at the
+end of the branch, like the oriole, tie the nest
+fast; others, like the robin, build against the
+main trunk; still others build securely in the
+fork. The sparrow, in her ignorance, rested her
+house upon the spray of two branches, and when
+the tempest came, the branches parted company
+and the nest was engulfed.</p>
+
+<p>A little bob-tailed song sparrow built her nest
+in a pile of dry brush very near the kitchen door
+of a farmhouse on the skirts of the northern
+Catskills, where I was passing the summer. It was
+late in July, and she had doubtless reared one
+brood in the earlier season. Her toilet was decidedly
+the worse for wear. I noted her day after
+day, very busy about the fence and quince bushes
+between the house and milk house, with her beak
+full of coarse straw and hay. To a casual observer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+she seemed flitting about aimlessly, carrying
+straws from place to place just to amuse herself.
+When I came to watch her closely to learn the
+place of her nest, she seemed to suspect my intention,
+and made many little feints and movements
+calculated to put me off my track. But
+I would not be misled, and presently had her
+secret. The male did not assist her at all, but
+sang much of the time in an apple-tree or upon
+the fence, on the other side of the house.</p>
+
+<p>The song sparrow nearly always builds upon
+the ground, but my little neighbor laid the foundations
+of her domicile a foot or more above the
+soil. And what a mass of straws and twigs she
+did collect together! How coarse and careless
+and aimless at first,&mdash;a mere lot of rubbish
+dropped upon the tangle of dry limbs; but
+presently how it began to refine and come into
+shape in the centre! till there was the most exquisite
+hair-lined cup set about by a chaos of
+coarse straws and branches. What a process of
+evolution! The completed nest was foreshadowed
+by the first stiff straw; but how far off is yet
+that dainty casket with its complement of speckled
+eggs! The nest was so placed that it had for
+canopy a large, broad, drooping leaf of yellow
+dock. This formed a perfect shield against both
+sun and rain, while it served to conceal it from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+any curious eyes from above,&mdash;from the cat,
+for instance, prowling along the top of the wall.
+Before the eggs had hatched, the docken leaf
+wilted and dried and fell down upon the nest.
+But the mother bird managed to insinuate herself
+beneath it, and went on with her brooding
+all the same.</p>
+
+<p>Then I arranged an artificial cover of leaves
+and branches, which shielded her charge till
+they had flown away. A mere trifle was this
+little bob-tailed bird with her arts and her secrets,
+and the male with his song, and yet the
+pair gave a touch of something to those days and
+to that place which I would not willingly have
+missed.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CHIMNEY SWIFT</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day a swarm of honey-bees went into my
+chimney, and I mounted the stack to see into
+which flue they had gone. As I craned my neck
+above the sooty vent, with the bees humming
+about my ears, the first thing my eye rested upon
+in the black interior was a pair of long white
+pearls upon a little shelf of twigs, the nest of the
+chimney swallow, or swift,&mdash;honey, soot, and
+birds' eggs closely associated. The bees, though
+in an unused flue, soon found the gas of anthracite
+that hovered about the top of the chimney
+too much for them, and they left. But the swifts
+are not repelled by smoke. They seem to have
+entirely abandoned their former nesting-places
+in hollow trees and stumps, and to frequent only
+chimneys. A tireless bird, never perching, all
+day upon the wing, and probably capable of flying
+one thousand miles in twenty-four hours,
+they do not even stop to gather materials for
+their nests, but snap off the small dry twigs
+from the tree-tops as they fly by. Confine one of
+these swifts to a room and it does not perch, but
+after flying till it becomes bewildered and exhausted,
+it clings to the side of the wall till it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+dies. Once, on returning to my room after several
+days' absence, I found one in which life seemed
+nearly extinct; its feet grasped my finger as I
+removed it from the wall, but its eyes closed, and
+it seemed about on the point of joining its companion,
+which lay dead upon the floor. Tossing it
+into the air, however, seemed to awaken its wonderful
+powers of flight, and away it went straight
+toward the clouds. On the wing the chimney
+swift looks like an athlete stripped for the race.
+There is the least appearance of quill and plumage
+of any of our birds, and, with all its speed
+and marvelous evolutions, the effect of its flight
+is stiff and wiry. There appears to be but one
+joint in the wing, and that next the body. This
+peculiar inflexible motion of the wings, as if they
+were little sickles of sheet iron, seems to be
+owing to the length and development of the primary
+quills and the smallness of the secondary.
+The wing appears to hinge only at the wrist.
+The barn swallow lines its rude masonry with
+feathers, but the swift begins life on bare twigs,
+glued together by a glue of home manufacture
+as adhesive as Spaulding's.</p>
+
+<p>The big chimney of my cabin "Slabsides" of
+course attracted the chimney swifts, and as it was
+not used in summer, two pairs built their nests
+in it, and we had the muffled thunder of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+wings at all hours of the day and night. One
+night, when one of the broods was nearly fledged,
+the nest that held them fell down into the fireplace.
+Such a din of screeching and chattering
+as they instantly set up! Neither my dog nor I
+could sleep. They yelled in chorus, stopping at
+the end of every half-minute as if upon signal.
+Now they were all screeching at the top of their
+voices, then a sudden, dead silence ensued. Then
+the din began again, to terminate at the instant
+as before. If they had been long practicing together,
+they could not have succeeded better. I
+never before heard the cry of birds so accurately
+timed. After a while I got up and put them
+back up the chimney, and stopped up the throat
+of the flue with newspapers. The next day one
+of the parent birds, in bringing food to them,
+came down the chimney with such force that it
+passed through the papers and brought up in
+the fireplace. On capturing it I saw that its
+throat was distended with food as a chipmunk's
+cheek with corn, or a boy's pocket with chestnuts.
+I opened its mandibles, when it ejected a
+wad of insects as large as a bean. Most of them
+were much macerated, but there were two house-flies
+yet alive and but little the worse for their
+close confinement. They stretched themselves and
+walked about upon my hand, enjoying a breath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+of fresh air once more. It was nearly two hours
+before the swift again ventured into the chimney
+with food.</p>
+
+<p>These birds do not perch, nor alight upon
+buildings or the ground. They are apparently upon
+the wing all day. They outride the storms. I
+have in my mind a cheering picture of three of
+them I saw facing a heavy thunder-shower one
+afternoon. The wind was blowing a gale, the
+clouds were rolling in black, portentous billows
+out of the west, the peals of thunder were shaking
+the heavens, and the big drops were just beginning
+to come down, when, on looking up, I saw
+three swifts high in air, working their way slowly,
+straight into the teeth of the storm. They were
+not hurried or disturbed; they held themselves
+firmly and steadily; indeed, they were fairly at
+anchor in the air till the rage of the elements
+should have subsided. I do not know that any
+other of our land birds outride the storms in this
+way.</p>
+
+<p>In the choice of nesting-material the swift
+shows no change of habit. She still snips off the
+small dry twigs from the tree-tops and glues them
+together, and to the side of the chimney, with
+her own glue. The soot is a new obstacle in her
+way, that she does not yet seem to have learned
+to overcome, as the rains often loosen it and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+cause her nest to fall to the bottom. She has a
+pretty way of trying to frighten you off when
+your head suddenly darkens the opening above
+her. At such times she leaves the nest and clings
+to the side of the chimney near it. Then, slowly
+raising her wings, she suddenly springs out from
+the wall and back again, making as loud a drumming
+with them in the passage as she is capable of.
+If this does not frighten you away, she repeats it
+three or four times. If your face still hovers
+above her, she remains quiet and watches you.</p>
+
+<p>What a creature of the air this bird is, never
+touching the ground, so far as I know, and never
+tasting earthly food! The swallow does perch
+now and then and descend to the ground for
+nesting-material, but not so the swift. The twigs
+for her nest she gathers on the wing, sweeping
+along like children on a "merry-go-round" who
+try to seize a ring, or to do some other feat, as
+they pass a given point. If the swift misses the
+twig, or it fails to yield to her the first time, she
+tries again and again, each time making a wider
+circuit, as if to tame and train her steed a little
+and bring him up more squarely to the mark next
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Though the swift is a stiff flyer and apparently
+without joints in her wings, yet the air of
+frolic and of superabundance of wing-power is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+more marked with her than with any other of our
+birds. Her feeding and twig-gathering seem like
+asides in a life of endless play. Several times both
+in spring and fall I have seen swifts gather in
+immense numbers toward nightfall, to take refuge
+in large unused chimney-stacks. On such occasions
+they seem to be coming together for some
+aerial festival or grand celebration; and, as if
+bent upon a final effort to work off a part of
+their superabundant wing-power before settling
+down for the night, they circle and circle high
+above the chimney-top, a great cloud of them,
+drifting this way and that, all in high spirits and
+chippering as they fly. Their numbers constantly
+increase as other members of the clan come dashing
+in from all points of the compass. Swifts
+seem to materialize out of empty air on all sides
+of the chippering, whirling ring, as an hour or
+more this assembling of the clan and this flight
+festival go on. The birds must gather in from
+whole counties, or from half a State. They have
+been on the wing all day, and yet now they seem
+as tireless as the wind, and as if unable to curb
+their powers.</p>
+
+<p>One fall they gathered in this way and took
+refuge for the night in a large chimney-stack in
+a city near me, and kept this course up for more
+than a month and a half. Several times I went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+to town to witness the spectacle, and a spectacle
+it was: ten thousand swifts, I should think, filling
+the air above a whole square like a whirling
+swarm of huge black bees, but saluting the
+ear with a multitudinous chippering, instead of a
+humming. People gathered upon the sidewalks
+to see them. It was a rare circus performance,
+free to all. After a great many feints and playful
+approaches, the whirling ring of birds would
+suddenly grow denser above the chimney; then
+a stream of them, as if drawn down by some
+power of suction, would pour into the opening.
+For only a few seconds would this downward
+rush continue; then, as if the spirit of frolic had
+again got the upper hand of them, the ring would
+rise, and the chippering and circling go on. In a
+minute or two the same man&#339;uvre would be repeated,
+the chimney, as it were, taking its swallows
+at intervals to prevent choking. It usually
+took a half-hour or more for the birds all to disappear
+down its capacious throat. There was always
+an air of timidity and irresolution about
+their approach to the chimney, just as there always
+is about their approach to the dead tree-top
+from which they procure their twigs for nest-building.
+Often did I see birds hesitate above the
+opening and then pass on, apparently as though
+they had not struck it at just the right angle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+On one occasion a solitary bird was left flying,
+and it took three or four trials either to make up
+its mind or to catch the trick of the descent. On
+dark or threatening or stormy days the birds
+would begin to assemble by mid-afternoon, and
+by four or five o'clock were all in their lodgings.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE OVEN-BIRD</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> loiterer about the woods knows this
+pretty, speckled-breasted, olive-backed little bird,
+which walks along over the dry leaves a few yards
+from him, moving its head as it walks, like a
+miniature domestic fowl. Most birds are very
+stiff-necked, like the robin, and as they run or
+hop upon the ground, carry the head as if it were
+riveted to the body. Not so the oven-bird, or the
+other birds that walk, as the cow-bunting, or the
+quail, or the crow. They move the head forward
+with the movement of the feet. The sharp, reiterated,
+almost screeching song of the oven-bird, as
+it perches on a limb a few feet from the ground,
+like the words "preacher, preacher, preacher,"
+or "teacher, teacher, teacher," uttered louder and
+louder, and repeated six or seven times, is also
+familiar to most ears; but its wild, ringing, rapturous
+burst of song in the air high above the
+tree-tops is not so well known. From a very prosy,
+tiresome, unmelodious singer, it is suddenly transformed
+for a brief moment into a lyric poet of
+great power. It is a great surprise. The bird undergoes
+a complete transformation. Ordinarily it
+is a very quiet, demure sort of bird. It walks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+about over the leaves, moving its head like a
+little hen; then perches on a limb a few feet from
+the ground and sends forth its shrill, rather prosy,
+unmusical chant. Surely it is an ordinary, commonplace
+bird. But wait till the inspiration of
+its flight-song is upon it. What a change! Up
+it goes through the branches of the trees, leaping
+from limb to limb, faster and faster, till it shoots
+from the tree-tops fifty or more feet into the air
+above them, and bursts into an ecstasy of song,
+rapid, ringing, lyrical; no more like its habitual
+performance than a match is like a rocket; brief
+but thrilling; emphatic but musical. Having
+reached its climax of flight and song, the bird
+closes its wings and drops nearly perpendicularly
+downward like the skylark. If its song were more
+prolonged, it would rival the song of that famous
+bird. The bird does this many times a day
+during early June, but oftenest at twilight.</p>
+
+<p>About the first of June there is a nest in the
+woods, upon the ground, with four creamy-white
+eggs in it, spotted with brown or lilac, chiefly
+about the larger ends, that always gives the
+walker who is so lucky as to find it a thrill of
+pleasure. It is like a ground sparrow's nest with
+a roof or canopy to it. The little brown or olive
+backed bird starts away from your feet and runs
+swiftly and almost silently over the dry leaves,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+and then turns her speckled breast to see if you
+are following. She walks very prettily, by far the
+prettiest pedestrian in the woods. But if she
+thinks you have discovered her secret, she feigns
+lameness and disability of both leg and wing, to
+decoy you into the pursuit of her. This is the
+oven-bird. The last nest of this bird I found was
+while in quest of the pink cypripedium. We suddenly
+spied a couple of the flowers a few steps
+from the path along which we were walking, and
+had stooped to admire them, when out sprang
+the bird from beside them, doubtless thinking
+she was the subject of observation instead of
+the rose-purple flowers that swung but a foot
+or two above her. But we never should have
+seen her had she kept her place. She had found
+a rent in the matted carpet of dry leaves and pine
+needles that covered the ground, and into this
+had insinuated her nest, the leaves and needles
+forming a canopy above it, sloping to the south
+and west, the source of the more frequent summer
+rains.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CATBIRD</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> requires an effort for me to speak of the
+singing catbird as he; all the ways and tones of
+the bird seem so distinctly feminine. But it is,
+of course, only the male that sings. At times
+I hardly know whether I am more pleased or
+annoyed with him. Perhaps he is a little too
+common, and his part in the general chorus a little
+too conspicuous. If you are listening for the
+note of another bird, he is sure to be prompted
+to the most loud and protracted singing, drowning
+all other sounds; if you sit quietly down to
+observe a favorite or study a new-comer, his curiosity
+knows no bounds, and you are scanned and
+ridiculed from every point of observation. Yet I
+would not miss him; I would only subordinate
+him a little, make him less conspicuous.</p>
+
+<p>He is the parodist of the woods, and there is
+ever a mischievous, bantering, half-ironical undertone
+in his lay, as if he were conscious of mimicking
+and disconcerting some envied songster.
+Ambitious of song, practicing and rehearsing in
+private, he yet seems the least sincere and genuine
+of the sylvan minstrels, as if he had taken up
+music only to be in the fashion, or not to be outdone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+by the robins and thrushes. In other words,
+he seems to sing from some outward motive, and
+not from inward joyousness. He is a good versifier,
+but not a great poet. Vigorous, rapid, copious,
+not without fine touches, but destitute of
+any high, serene melody, his performance, like
+that of Thoreau's squirrel, always implies a spectator.</p>
+
+<p>There is a certain air and polish about his
+strain, however, like that in the vivacious conversation
+of a well-bred lady of the world, that
+commands respect. His parental instinct, also, is
+very strong, and that simple structure of dead
+twigs and dry grass is the centre of much anxious
+solicitude. Not long since, while strolling
+through the woods, my attention was attracted
+to a small densely-grown swamp, hedged in with
+eglantine, brambles, and the everlasting smilax,
+from which proceeded loud cries of distress and
+alarm, indicating that some terrible calamity was
+threatening my sombre-colored minstrel. On effecting
+an entrance, which, however, was not accomplished
+till I had doffed coat and hat, so as
+to diminish the surface exposed to the thorns and
+brambles, and, looking around me from a square
+yard of terra firma, I found myself the spectator
+of a loathsome yet fascinating scene. Three or
+four yards from me was the nest, beneath which,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+in long festoons, rested a huge black snake; a
+bird two-thirds grown was slowly disappearing
+between his expanded jaws. As he seemed unconscious
+of my presence, I quietly observed the proceedings.
+By slow degrees he compassed the bird
+about with his elastic mouth; his head flattened,
+his neck writhed and swelled, and two or three
+undulatory movements of his glistening body finished
+the work. Then he cautiously raised himself
+up, his tongue flaming from his mouth the
+while, curved over the nest, and, with wavy, subtle
+motions, explored the interior. I can conceive
+of nothing more overpoweringly terrible to an
+unsuspecting family of birds than the sudden appearance
+above their domicile of the head and
+neck of this arch-enemy. It is enough to petrify
+the blood in their veins. Not finding the object
+of his search, he came streaming down from the
+nest to a lower limb, and commenced extending
+his researches in other directions, sliding stealthily
+through the branches, bent on capturing one
+of the parent birds. That a legless, wingless
+creature should move with such ease and rapidity
+where only birds and squirrels are considered at
+home, lifting himself up, letting himself down,
+running out on the yielding boughs, and traversing
+with marvelous celerity the whole length and
+breadth of the thicket, was truly surprising. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+thinks of the great myth of the Tempter and the
+"cause of all our woe," and wonders if the Arch
+Enemy is not now playing off some of his pranks
+before him. Whether we call it snake or devil
+matters little. I could but admire his terrible
+beauty, however; his black, shining folds, his
+easy, gliding movement, head erect, eyes glistening,
+tongue playing like subtle flame, and the invisible
+means of his almost winged locomotion.</p>
+
+<p>The parent birds, in the mean while, kept
+up the most agonizing cry, at times fluttering
+furiously about their pursuer, and actually laying
+hold of his tail with their beaks and claws. On
+being thus attacked, the snake would suddenly
+double upon himself and follow his own body
+back, thus executing a strategic movement that
+at first seemed almost to paralyze his victim and
+place her within his grasp. Not quite, however.
+Before his jaws could close upon the coveted prize
+the bird would tear herself away, and, apparently
+faint and sobbing, retire to a higher branch. His
+reputed powers of fascination availed him little,
+though it is possible that a frailer and less combative
+bird might have been held by the fatal
+spell. Presently, as he came gliding down the
+slender body of a leaning alder, his attention was
+attracted by a slight movement of my arm; eyeing
+me an instant, with that crouching, utterly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+motionless gaze which I believe only snakes and
+devils can assume, he turned quickly&mdash;a feat
+which necessitated something like crawling over
+his own body&mdash;and glided off through the
+branches, evidently recognizing in me a representative
+of the ancient parties he once so cunningly
+ruined. A few moments later, as he lay
+carelessly disposed in the top of a rank alder, trying
+to look as much like a crooked branch as his
+supple, shining form would admit, the old vengeance
+overtook him. I exercised my prerogative,
+and a well-directed missile, in the shape of a stone,
+brought him looping and writhing to the ground.
+After I had completed his downfall and quiet had
+been partly restored, a half-fledged member of
+the bereaved household came out from his hiding-place,
+and, jumping upon a decayed branch,
+chirped vigorously, no doubt in celebration of the
+victory.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE BOBOLINK</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> bobolink has a secure place in literature,
+having been laureated by no less a poet than
+Bryant, and invested with a lasting human charm
+in the sunny page of Irving, and is the only one
+of our songsters, I believe, that the mockingbird
+cannot parody or imitate. He affords the most
+marked example of exuberant pride, and a glad,
+rollicking, holiday spirit, that can be seen among
+our birds. Every note expresses complacency and
+glee. He is a beau of the first pattern, and, unlike
+any other bird of my acquaintance, pushes
+his gallantry to the point of wheeling gayly into
+the train of every female that comes along, even
+after the season of courtship is over and the
+matches are all settled; and when she leads him
+on too wild a chase, he turns lightly about and
+breaks out with a song that is precisely analogous
+to a burst of gay and self-satisfied laughter, as
+much as to say, "<i>Ha! ha! ha! I must have my
+fun, Miss Silverthimble, thimble, thimble, if I
+break every heart in the meadow, see, see, see!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>At the approach of the breeding-season the
+bobolink undergoes a complete change; his form
+changes, his color changes, his flight changes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+From mottled brown or brindle he becomes black
+and white, earning, in some localities, the shocking
+name of "skunk bird"; his small, compact
+form becomes broad and conspicuous, and his
+ordinary flight is laid aside for a mincing, affected
+gait, in which he seems to use only the very tips
+of his wings. It is very noticeable what a contrast
+he presents to his mate at this season, not
+only in color but in manners, she being as shy
+and retiring as he is forward and hilarious. Indeed,
+she seems disagreeably serious and indisposed
+to any fun or jollity, scurrying away at
+his approach, and apparently annoyed at every
+endearing word and look. It is surprising that
+all this parade of plumage and tinkling of cymbals
+should be gone through with and persisted
+in to please a creature so coldly indifferent as she
+really seems to be.</p>
+
+<p>I know of no other song-bird that expresses
+so much self-consciousness and vanity, and comes
+so near being an ornithological coxcomb. The
+redbird, the yellowbird, the indigo-bird, the oriole,
+the cardinal grosbeak, and others, all birds of
+brilliant plumage and musical ability, seem quite
+unconscious of self, and neither by tone nor act
+challenge the admiration of the beholder.</p>
+
+<p>If I were a bird, in building my nest I should
+follow the example of the bobolink, placing it in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+the midst of a broad meadow, where there was
+no spear of grass, or flower, or growth unlike
+another to mark its site. I judge that the bobolink
+escapes the dangers to which nesting birds
+are liable as few or no other birds do. Unless the
+mowers come along at an earlier date than she
+has anticipated, that is, before July 1, or a skunk
+goes nosing through the grass, which is unusual,
+she is as safe as bird well can be in
+the great open of nature. She selects the most
+monotonous and uniform place she can find
+amid the daisies or the timothy and clover, and
+places her simple structure upon the ground in
+the midst of it. There is no concealment,
+except as the great conceals the little, as the
+desert conceals the pebble, as the myriad conceals
+the unit. You may find the nest once, if your
+course chances to lead you across it, and your
+eye is quick enough to note the silent brown
+bird as she darts swiftly away; but step three
+paces in the wrong direction, and your search
+will probably be fruitless. My friend and I found
+a nest by accident one day, and then lost it again
+one minute afterward. I moved away a few yards
+to be sure of the mother bird, charging my friend
+not to stir from his tracks. When I returned, he
+had moved two paces, he said (he had really
+moved four), and we spent a half-hour stooping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+over the daisies and the buttercups, looking for
+the lost clew. We grew desperate, and fairly felt
+the ground over with our hands, but without
+avail. I marked the spot with a bush, and came
+the next day, and, with the bush as a centre,
+moved about it in slowly increasing circles, covering,
+I thought, nearly every inch of ground with
+my feet, and laying hold of it with all the visual
+power I could command, till my patience was exhausted,
+and I gave up, baffled. I began to doubt
+the ability of the parent birds themselves to find
+it, and so secreted myself and watched. After
+much delay, the male bird appeared with food in
+his beak, and, satisfying himself that the coast
+was clear, dropped into the grass which I had
+trodden down in my search. Fastening my eye
+upon a particular meadow-lily, I walked straight
+to the spot, bent down, and gazed long and intently
+into the grass. Finally my eye separated
+the nest and its young from its surroundings.
+My foot had barely missed them in my search,
+but by how much they had escaped my eye I
+could not tell. Probably not by distance at all,
+but simply by unrecognition. They were virtually
+invisible. The dark gray and yellowish-brown
+dry grass and stubble of the meadow-bottom were
+exactly copied in the color of the half-fledged
+young. More than that, they hugged the nest so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+closely and formed such a compact mass, that
+though there were five of them, they preserved
+the unit of expression,&mdash;no single head or form
+was defined; they were one, and that one was
+without shape or color, and not separable, except
+by closest scrutiny, from the one of the meadow-bottom.
+That nest prospered, as bobolinks' nests
+doubtless generally do; for, notwithstanding the
+enormous slaughter of the birds by Southern
+sportsmen during their fall migrations, the bobolink
+appears to hold its own, and its music does
+not diminish in our Northern meadows.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE BOBOLINK</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Daisies</span>, clover, buttercup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Redtop, trefoil, meadowsweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ecstatic pinions, soaring up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then gliding down to grassy seat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sunshine, laughter, mad desires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">May day, June day, lucid skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All reckless moods that love inspires&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The gladdest bird that sings and flies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Meadows, orchards, bending sprays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rushes, lilies, billowy wheat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Song and frolic fill his days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A feathered rondeau all complete.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pink bloom, gold bloom, fleabane white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dewdrop, raindrop, cooling shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bubbling throat and hovering flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And jocund heart as e'er was made.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WOOD THRUSH</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wood thrush is the handsomest species of
+the thrush family. In grace and elegance of
+manner he has no equal. Such a gentle, high-bred
+air, and such inimitable ease and composure
+in his flight and movement! He is a poet in very
+word and deed. His carriage is music to the eye.
+His performance of the commonest act, as catching
+a beetle, or picking a worm from the mud,
+pleases like a stroke of wit or eloquence. Was
+he a prince in the olden time, and do the regal
+grace and mien still adhere to him in his transformation?
+What a finely proportioned form!
+How plain, yet rich, his color,&mdash;the bright russet
+of his back, the clear white of his breast,
+with the distinct heart-shaped spots! It may be
+objected to Robin that he is noisy and demonstrative;
+he hurries away or rises to a branch
+with an angry note, and flirts his wings in ill-bred
+suspicion. The thrasher, or red thrush, sneaks
+and skulks like a culprit, hiding in the densest
+alders; the catbird is a coquette and a flirt, as
+well as a sort of female Paul Pry; and the chewink
+shows his inhospitality by espying your
+movements like a detective. The wood thrush<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+has none of these underbred traits. He regards
+me unsuspiciously, or avoids me with a noble reserve&mdash;or,
+if I am quiet and incurious, graciously
+hops toward me, as if to pay his respects,
+or to make my acquaintance. I have passed under
+his nest within a few feet of his mate and brood,
+when he sat near by on a branch eying me
+sharply, but without opening his beak; but the
+moment I raised my hand toward his defenseless
+household his anger and indignation were beautiful
+to behold.</p>
+
+<p>What a noble pride he has! Late one October,
+after his mates and companions had long since
+gone South, I noticed one for several successive
+days in the dense part of this next-door wood,
+flitting noiselessly about, very grave and silent,
+as if doing penance for some violation of the code
+of honor. By many gentle, indirect approaches, I
+perceived that part of his tail-feathers were undeveloped.
+The sylvan prince could not think of
+returning to court in this plight, and so, amid
+the falling leaves and cold rains of autumn, was
+patiently biding his time.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 379px;">
+<img src="images/006.jpg" width="379" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+WOOD THRUSH</div>
+
+<p>It is a curious habit the wood thrush has of
+starting its nest with a fragment of newspaper or
+other paper. Except in remote woods, I think it
+nearly always puts a piece of paper in the foundation
+of its nest. Last spring I chanced to be sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+near a tree in which a wood thrush had concluded
+to build. She came with a piece of paper nearly
+as large as my hand, placed it upon the branch,
+stood upon it a moment, and then flew down to the
+ground. A little puff of wind caused the paper
+to leave the branch a moment afterward. The
+thrush watched it eddy slowly down to the
+ground, when she seized it and carried it back.
+She placed it in position as before, stood upon it
+again for a moment, and then flew away. Again
+the paper left the branch, and sailed away slowly
+to the ground. The bird seized it again, jerking
+it about rather spitefully, I thought; she turned
+it round two or three times, then labored back
+to the branch with it, upon which she shifted it
+about as if to hit upon some position in which it
+would lie more securely. This time she sat down
+upon it for a moment, and then went away,
+doubtless with the thought in her head that she
+would bring something to hold it down. The
+perverse paper followed her in a few seconds.
+She seized it again, and hustled it about more
+than before. As she rose with it toward the nest,
+it in some way impeded her flight, and she was
+compelled to return to the ground with it. But
+she kept her temper remarkably well. She turned
+the paper over and took it up in her beak several
+times before she was satisfied with her hold, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+then carried it back to the branch, where, however,
+it would not stay. I saw her make six trials
+of it, when I was called away. I think she finally
+abandoned the restless fragment, probably a scrap
+that held some "breezy" piece of writing, for
+later in the season I examined the nest and found
+no paper in it.</p>
+
+<p>How completely the life of a bird revolves
+about its nest, its home! In the case of the wood
+thrush, its life and joy seem to mount higher and
+higher as the nest prospers. The male becomes a
+fountain of melody; his happiness waxes day by
+day; he makes little triumphal tours about the
+neighborhood, and pours out his pride and gladness
+in the ears of all. How sweet, how well-bred,
+is his demonstration! But let any accident befall
+that precious nest, and what a sudden silence
+falls upon him! Last summer a pair of wood
+thrushes built their nest within a few rods of
+my house, and when the enterprise was fairly
+launched and the mother bird was sitting upon
+her four blue eggs, the male was in the height
+of his song. How he poured forth his rich melody,
+never in the immediate vicinity of the nest,
+but always within easy hearing distance! Every
+morning, as promptly as the morning came, between
+five and six, he would sing for half an
+hour from the top of a locust-tree that shaded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+my roof. I came to expect him as much as I expected
+my breakfast, and I was not disappointed
+till one morning I seemed to miss something.
+What was it? Oh, the thrush had not sung this
+morning. Something is the matter; and, recollecting
+that yesterday I had seen a red squirrel
+in the trees not far from the nest, I at once inferred
+that the nest had been harried. Going to
+the spot, I found my fears were well grounded;
+every egg was gone. The joy of the thrush was
+laid low. No more songs from the tree-top, and
+no more songs from any point, till nearly a week
+had elapsed, when I heard him again under the
+hill, where the pair had started a new nest, cautiously
+tuning up, and apparently with his recent
+bitter experience still weighing upon him.</p>
+
+<p>There is no nest-builder that suffers more
+from crows and squirrels and other enemies than
+the wood thrush. It builds as openly and unsuspiciously
+as if it thought all the world as honest
+as itself. Its favorite place is the fork of a
+sapling, eight or ten feet from the ground, where
+it falls an easy prey to every nest-robber that
+comes prowling through the woods and groves.
+It is not a bird that skulks and hides, like the
+catbird, the brown thrasher, the chat, or the chewink,
+and its nest is not concealed with the same
+art as theirs. Our thrushes are all frank, open-mannered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+birds; but the veery and the hermit
+build on the ground, where they may at least escape
+the crows, owls, and jays, and stand a good
+chance of being overlooked by the red squirrel
+and weasel also; while the robin seeks the protection
+of dwellings and outbuildings. For years
+I have not known the nest of a wood thrush to
+succeed. During the season referred to I observed
+but two, both apparently a second attempt,
+as the season was well advanced, and both failures.
+In one case, the nest was placed in a branch
+that an apple-tree, standing near a dwelling, held
+out over the highway. The structure was barely
+ten feet above the middle of the road, and would
+just escape a passing load of hay. It was made
+conspicuous by the use of a large fragment of
+newspaper in its foundation,&mdash;an unsafe material
+to build upon in most cases. Whatever else
+the press may guard, this particular newspaper
+did not guard this nest from harm. It saw the
+egg and probably the chick, but not the fledgeling.
+A murderous deed was committed above
+the public highway, but whether in the open day
+or under cover of darkness I have no means of
+knowing. The frisky red squirrel was doubtless
+the culprit. The other nest was in a maple sapling,
+within a few yards of the little rustic summer-house
+already referred to. The first attempt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+of the season, I suspect, had failed in a more secluded
+place under the hill; so the pair had come
+up nearer the house for protection. The male
+sang in the trees near by for several days before
+I chanced to see the nest. The very morning, I
+think, it was finished, I saw a red squirrel exploring
+a tree but a few yards away; he probably
+knew what the singing meant as well as I
+did. I did not see the inside of the nest, for it
+was almost instantly deserted, the female having
+probably laid a single egg, which the squirrel
+had devoured.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, while seated upon my porch, I
+had convincing proof that musical or song contests
+do take place among the birds. Two wood
+thrushes who had nests near by sat on the top
+of a dead tree and pitted themselves against each
+other in song for over half an hour, contending
+like champions in a game, and certainly affording
+the rarest treat in wood-thrush melody I had
+ever had. They sang and sang with unwearied
+spirit and persistence, now and then changing
+position or facing in another direction, but keeping
+within a few feet of each other. The rivalry
+became so obvious and was so interesting that I
+finally made it a point not to take my eyes from
+the singers. The twilight deepened till their
+forms began to grow dim; then one of the birds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+could stand the strain no longer, the limit of fair
+competition had been reached, and seeming to
+say, "I will silence you, anyhow," it made a
+spiteful dive at its rival, and in hot pursuit the
+two disappeared in the bushes beneath the tree.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> nest of nests, the ideal nest, is unquestionably
+that of the Baltimore oriole. It is the
+only perfectly pensile nest we have. The nest of
+the orchard oriole is indeed mainly so, but this
+bird generally builds lower and shallower, more
+after the manner of the vireos.</p>
+
+<p>The Baltimore oriole loves to attach its nest to
+the swaying branches of the tallest elms, making
+no attempt at concealment, but satisfied if the
+position be high and the branch pendent. This
+nest would seem to cost more time and skill
+than any other bird structure. A peculiar flax-like
+material seems to be always sought after and
+always found. The nest when completed assumes
+the form of a large, suspended gourd. The walls
+are thin but firm, and proof against the most
+driving rain. The mouth is hemmed or over-handed
+with strings or horsehair, and the sides
+are usually sewed through and through with the
+same.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/007.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+BALTIMORE ORIOLE<br />
+Upper, male; lower, female</div>
+
+<p>Not particular as to the matter of secrecy, the
+bird is not particular as to material, so that it
+be of the nature of strings or threads. A lady
+friend once told me that, while she was working<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+by an open window, one of these birds approached
+while her back was turned, and, seizing a skein
+of some kind of thread or yarn, made off with
+it to its half-finished nest. But the perverse yarn
+caught fast in the branches, and, in the bird's
+efforts to extricate it, got hopelessly tangled.
+She tugged away at it all day, but was finally
+obliged to content herself with a few detached
+portions. The fluttering strings were an eyesore
+to her ever after, and, passing and repassing,
+she would give them a spiteful jerk, as much
+as to say, "There is that confounded yarn that
+gave me so much trouble."</p>
+
+<p>One day in Kentucky I saw an oriole weave
+into her nest unusual material. As we sat upon
+the lawn in front of the cottage, we had noticed
+the bird just beginning her structure, suspending
+it from a long, low branch of the Kentucky
+coffee-tree that grew but a few feet away. I suggested
+to my host that if he would take some
+brilliant yarn and scatter it about upon the
+shrubbery, the fence, and the walks, the bird
+would probably avail herself of it, and weave a
+novel nest. I had heard of its being done, but
+had never tried it myself. The suggestion was
+at once acted upon, and in a few moments a handful
+of zephyr yarn, crimson, orange, green, yellow,
+and blue, was distributed about the grounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+As we sat at dinner a few moments later, I saw
+the eager bird flying up toward her nest with
+one of these brilliant yarns streaming behind
+her. They had caught her eye at once, and she
+fell to work upon them with a will; not a bit
+daunted by their brilliant color, she soon had a
+crimson spot there amid the green leaves. She
+afforded us rare amusement all the afternoon and
+the next morning. How she seemed to congratulate
+herself over her rare find! How vigorously
+she knotted those strings to her branch and
+gathered the ends in and sewed them through
+and through the structure, jerking them spitefully
+like a housewife burdened with many cares!
+How savagely she would fly at her neighbor, an
+oriole that had a nest just over the fence a few
+yards away, when she invaded her territory! The
+male looked on approvingly, but did not offer to
+lend a hand. There is something in the manner
+of the female on such occasions, something so
+decisive and emphatic, that one entirely approves
+of the course of the male in not meddling or offering
+any suggestions. It is the wife's enterprise,
+and she evidently knows her own mind so well
+that the husband keeps aloof, or plays the part
+of an approving spectator.</p>
+
+<p>The woolen yarn was ill-suited to the Kentucky
+climate. This fact the bird seemed to appreciate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+for she used it only in the upper part
+of her nest, in attaching it to the branch and in
+binding and compacting the rim, making the
+sides and bottom of hemp, leaving it thin and
+airy, much more so than are the same nests with
+us. No other bird would, perhaps, have used
+such brilliant material; their instincts of concealment
+would have revolted, but the oriole
+aims more to make its nest inaccessible than to
+hide it. Its position and depth insure its safety.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WHIP-POOR-WILL</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day in May, walking in the woods, I
+came upon the nest of a whip-poor-will, or rather its
+eggs, for it builds no nest,&mdash;two elliptical whitish
+spotted eggs lying upon the dry leaves. My foot
+was within a yard of the mother bird before she
+flew. I wondered what a sharp eye would detect
+curious or characteristic in the ways of the bird,
+so I came to the place many times and had a
+look. It was always a task to separate the bird
+from her surroundings, though I stood within a
+few feet of her, and knew exactly where to look.
+One had to bear on with his eye, as it were, and
+refuse to be baffled. The sticks and leaves, and
+bits of black or dark-brown bark, were all exactly
+copied in the bird's plumage. And then she
+did sit so close, and simulate so well a shapeless,
+decaying piece of wood or bark! Twice I brought
+a companion, and, guiding his eye to the spot,
+noted how difficult it was for him to make out
+there, in full view upon the dry leaves, any semblance
+to a bird. When the bird returned after
+being disturbed, she would alight within a few
+inches of her eggs, and then, after a moment's
+pause, hobble awkwardly upon them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 359px;">
+<img src="images/008.jpg" width="359" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+WHIP-POOR-WILL</div>
+
+<p>After the young had appeared, all the wit of
+the bird came into play. I was on hand the next
+day, I think. The mother bird sprang up when
+I was within a pace of her, and in doing so
+fanned the leaves with her wings till they sprang
+up, too; as the leaves started the young started,
+and as they were of the same color, to tell which
+was the leaf and which the bird was a trying task
+to any eye. I came the next day, when the same
+tactics were repeated. Once a leaf fell upon one
+of the young birds and nearly hid it. The young
+are covered with a reddish down, like a young
+partridge, and soon follow their mother about.
+When disturbed, they gave but one leap, then
+settled down, perfectly motionless and stupid,
+with eyes closed. The parent bird, on these occasions,
+made frantic efforts to decoy me away
+from her young. She would fly a few paces and
+fall upon her breast, and a spasm, like that of
+death, would run through her tremulous outstretched
+wings and prostrate body. She kept a
+sharp eye out the mean while to see if the ruse
+took, and, if it did not, she was quickly cured,
+and, moving about to some other point, tried to
+draw my attention as before. When followed
+she always alighted upon the ground, dropping
+down in a sudden, peculiar way. The second or
+third day both old and young had disappeared.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The whip-poor-will walks as awkwardly as a
+swallow, which is as awkward as a man in a bag,
+and yet she manages to lead her young about
+the woods. The latter, I think, move by leaps
+and sudden spurts, their protective coloring shielding
+them most effectively.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>As the shadows deepen and the stars begin to
+come out, the whip-poor-will suddenly strikes up.
+What a rude intrusion upon the serenity and harmony
+of the hour! A cry without music, insistent,
+reiterated, loud, penetrating, and yet the ear
+welcomes it; the night and the solitude are so
+vast that they can stand it; and when, an hour
+later, as the night enters into full possession, the
+bird comes and serenades me under my window
+or upon my doorstep, my heart warms toward it.
+Its cry is a love-call, and there is something of
+the ardor and persistence of love in it, and when
+the female responds, and comes and hovers near,
+there is an interchange of subdued, caressing
+tones between the two birds that it is a delight
+to hear. During my first summer in my cabin
+one bird used to strike up every night from a
+high ledge of rocks in front of my door. At just
+such a moment in the twilight he would begin,
+the first to break the stillness. Then the others
+would follow, till the solitude was vocal with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+their calls. They are rarely heard later than ten
+o'clock. Then at daybreak they take up the
+tale again, whipping poor Will till one pities
+him. One April morning between three and four
+o'clock, hearing one strike up near my window,
+I began counting its calls. My neighbor had told
+me he had heard one call over two hundred times
+without a break, which seemed to me a big story.
+But I have a much bigger one to tell. This bird
+actually laid upon the back of poor Will one
+thousand and eighty-eight blows, with only a
+barely perceptible pause here and there, as if to
+catch its breath. Then it stopped about half
+a minute and began again, uttering this time
+three hundred and ninety calls, when it paused,
+flew a little farther away, took up the tale once
+more, and continued till I fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>By day the whip-poor-will apparently sits motionless
+upon the ground. A few times in my
+walks through the woods I have started one up
+from almost under my feet. On such occasions
+the bird's movements suggest those of a bat; its
+wings make no noise, and it wavers about in
+an uncertain manner, and quickly drops to the
+ground again. One June day we flushed an old
+one with her two young, but there was no indecision
+or hesitation in the manner of the mother
+bird this time. The young were more than half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+fledged, and they scampered away a few yards
+and suddenly squatted upon the ground, where
+their assimilative coloring rendered them almost
+invisible. Then the anxious parent put forth all
+her arts to absorb our attention and lure us away
+from her offspring. She flitted before us from
+side to side, with spread wings and tail, now falling
+upon the ground, where she would remain a
+moment as if quite disabled, then perching upon
+an old stump or low branch with drooping, quivering
+wings, and imploring us by every gesture
+to take her and spare her young. My companion
+had his camera with him, but the bird would not
+remain long enough in one position for him to
+get her picture.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE BLACK-THROATED BLUE WARBLER<br />
+<small>A SEARCH FOR A RARE NEST</small></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> set out in hopes of finding a rare nest,&mdash;the
+nest of the black-throated blue-backed
+warbler, which, it seemed, with one or two others,
+was still wanting to make the history of our
+warblers complete. The woods were extensive,
+and full of deep, dark tangles, and looking for
+any particular nest seemed about as hopeless a
+task as searching for a needle in a haystack, as
+the old saying is. Where to begin, and how?
+But the principle is the same as in looking for a
+hen's nest,&mdash;first find your bird, then watch its
+movements.</p>
+
+<p>The bird is in these woods, for I have seen
+him scores of times, but whether he builds high or
+low, on the ground or in the trees, is all unknown
+to me. That is his song now,&mdash;"twe-twea-twe-e-e-a,"
+with a peculiar summer languor and plaintiveness,
+and issuing from the lower branches
+and growths. Presently we&mdash;for I have been
+joined by a companion&mdash;discover the bird, a
+male, insecting in the top of a newly fallen hemlock.
+The black, white, and blue of his uniform<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+are seen at a glance. His movements are quite
+slow compared with some of the warblers. If he
+will only betray the locality of that little domicile
+where his plainly clad mate is evidently sitting,
+it is all we will ask of him. But this he seems
+in no wise disposed to do. Here and there, and
+up and down, we follow him, often losing him,
+and as often refinding him by his song; but the
+clew to his nest, how shall we get it? Does he
+never go home to see how things are getting on,
+or to see if his presence is not needed, or to take
+madam a morsel of food? No doubt he keeps
+within earshot, and a cry of distress or alarm from
+the mother bird would bring him to the spot in
+an instant. Would that some evil fate would
+make her cry, then! Presently he encounters a
+rival. His feeding-ground infringes upon that of
+another, and the two birds regard each other
+threateningly. This is a good sign, for their
+nests are evidently near.</p>
+
+<p>Their battle-cry is a low, peculiar chirp, not
+very fierce, but bantering and confident. They
+quickly come to blows, but it is a very fantastic
+battle, and, as it would seem, indulged in more
+to satisfy their sense of honor than to hurt each
+other, for neither party gets the better of the
+other, and they separate a few paces and sing, and
+squeak, and challenge each other in a very happy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+frame of mind. The gauntlet is no sooner thrown
+down than it is again taken up by one or the
+other, and in the course of fifteen or twenty
+minutes they have three or four encounters, separating
+a little, then provoked to return again
+like two cocks, till finally they withdraw beyond
+hearing of each other,&mdash;both, no doubt, claiming
+the victory. But the secret of the nest is
+still kept. Once I think I have it. I catch a
+glimpse of a bird which looks like the female, and
+near by, in a small hemlock about eight feet from
+the ground, my eye detects a nest. But as I come
+up under it, I can see daylight through it, and
+that it is empty,&mdash;evidently only partly finished,
+not lined or padded yet. Now if the bird will
+only return and claim it, the point will be gained.
+But we wait and watch in vain. The architect
+has knocked off to-day, and we must come again,
+or continue our search.</p>
+
+<p>Despairing of finding either of the nests of
+the two males, we pushed on through the woods
+to try our luck elsewhere. Before long, just as
+we were about to plunge down a hill into a dense,
+swampy part of the woods, we discovered a pair
+of the birds we were in quest of. They had food
+in their beaks, and, as we paused, showed great
+signs of alarm, indicating that the nest was in
+the immediate vicinity. This was enough. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+would pause here and find this nest, anyhow. To
+make a sure thing of it, we determined to watch
+the parent birds till we had wrung from them
+their secret. So we doggedly crouched down and
+watched them, and they watched us. It was diamond
+cut diamond. But as we felt constrained
+in our movements, desiring, if possible, to keep
+so quiet that the birds would, after a while, see
+in us only two harmless stumps or prostrate logs,
+we had much the worst of it. The mosquitoes
+were quite taken with our quiet, and knew us
+from logs and stumps in a moment. Neither were
+the birds deceived, not even when we tried the
+Indian's tactics, and plumed ourselves with green
+branches. Ah, the suspicious creatures, how they
+watched us with the food in their beaks, abstaining
+for one whole hour from ministering to that
+precious charge which otherwise would have been
+visited every few moments! Quite near us they
+would come at times, between us and the nest,
+eying us so sharply. Then they would move off,
+and apparently try to forget our presence. Was it
+to deceive us, or to persuade himself and his mate
+that there was no serious cause for alarm, that the
+male would now and then strike up in full song
+and move off to some distance through the trees?
+But the mother bird did not allow herself to lose
+sight of us at all, and both birds, after carrying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+the food in their beaks a long time, would swallow
+it themselves. Then they would obtain another
+morsel and apparently approach very near
+the nest, when their caution or prudence would
+come to their aid, and they would swallow the
+food and hasten away. I thought the young
+birds would cry out, but not a syllable from them.
+Yet this was, no doubt, what kept the parent
+birds away from the nest. The clamor the young
+would have set up on the approach of the old
+with food would have exposed everything.</p>
+
+<p>After a time I felt sure I knew within a few
+feet where the nest was concealed. Indeed, I
+thought I knew the identical bush. Then the
+birds approached each other again and grew very
+confidential about another locality some rods below.
+This puzzled us, and, seeing the whole
+afternoon might be spent in this manner and
+the mystery unsolved, we determined to change
+our tactics and institute a thorough search of the
+locality. This procedure soon brought things to a
+crisis, for, as my companion clambered over a log
+by a little hemlock, a few yards from where we had
+been sitting, with a cry of alarm out sprang the
+young birds from their nest in the hemlock, and,
+scampering and fluttering over the leaves, disappeared
+in different directions. Instantly the parent
+birds were on the scene in an agony of alarm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+Their distress was pitiful. They threw themselves
+on the ground at our very feet, and fluttered, and
+cried, and trailed themselves before us, to draw us
+away from the place, or distract our attention
+from the helpless young. I shall not forget the
+male bird, how bright he looked, how sharp the
+contrast as he trailed his painted plumage there
+on the dry leaves. Apparently he was seriously disabled.
+He would start up as if exerting every muscle
+to fly away, but no use; down he would come,
+with a helpless, fluttering motion, before he had
+gone two yards, and apparently you had only to go
+and pick him up. But before you could pick him
+up, he had recovered somewhat and flown a little
+farther; and thus, if you were tempted to follow
+him, you would soon find yourself some distance
+from the scene of the nest, and both old and young
+well out of your reach. The female bird was not
+less solicitous, and practiced the same arts upon us
+to decoy us away, but her dull plumage rendered
+her less noticeable. The male was clad in holiday
+attire, but his mate in an every-day working-garb.</p>
+
+<p>The nest was built in the fork of a little hemlock,
+about fifteen inches from the ground, and
+was a thick, firm structure, composed of the finer
+material of the woods, with a lining of very delicate
+roots or rootlets. There were four young
+birds and one addled egg.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE MARSH HAWK<br />
+<small>A MARSH HAWK'S NEST, A YOUNG HAWK, AND A VISIT TO A QUAIL ON HER NEST</small></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Most</span> country boys, I fancy, know the marsh
+hawk. It is he you see flying low over the fields,
+beating about bushes and marshes and dipping
+over the fences, with his attention directed to
+the ground beneath him. He is a cat on wings.
+He keeps so low that the birds and mice do not
+see him till he is fairly upon them. The hen-hawk
+swoops down upon the meadow-mouse from his
+position high in air, or from the top of a dead
+tree; but the marsh hawk stalks him and comes
+suddenly upon him from over the fence, or from
+behind a low bush or tuft of grass. He is nearly
+as large as the hen-hawk, but has a much longer
+tail. When I was a boy I used to call him the
+long-tailed hawk. The male is of a bluish slate-color;
+the female reddish-brown, like the hen-hawk,
+with a white rump.</p>
+
+<p>Unlike the other hawks, they nest on the
+ground in low, thick marshy places. For several
+seasons a pair have nested in a bushy marsh a
+few miles back of me, near the house of a farmer
+friend of mine, who has a keen eye for the wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+life about him. Two years ago he found the
+nest, but when I got over to see it the next week,
+it had been robbed, probably by some boys in the
+neighborhood. The past season, in April or May,
+by watching the mother bird, he found the nest
+again. It was in a marshy place, several acres in
+extent, in the bottom of a valley, and thickly
+grown with hardback, prickly ash, smilax, and
+other low thorny bushes. My friend took me to
+the brink of a low hill, and pointed out to me
+in the marsh below us, as nearly as he could,
+just where the nest was located. Then we crossed
+the pasture, entered upon the marsh, and made
+our way cautiously toward it. The wild, thorny
+growths, waist-high, had to be carefully dealt
+with. As we neared the spot, I used my eyes the
+best I could, but I did not see the hawk till she
+sprang into the air not ten yards away from us.
+She went screaming upward, and was soon sailing
+in a circle far above us. There, on a coarse
+matting of twigs and weeds, lay five snow-white
+eggs, a little more than half as large as hens'
+eggs. My companion said the male hawk would
+probably soon appear and join the female, but
+he did not. She kept drifting away to the east,
+and was soon gone from our sight.</p>
+
+<p>We presently withdrew and secreted ourselves
+behind the stone wall, in hopes of seeing the mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+hawk return. She appeared in the distance,
+but seemed to know she was being watched, and
+kept away.</p>
+
+<p>About ten days later we made another visit to
+the nest. An adventurous young Chicago lady
+also wanted to see a hawk's nest, and so accompanied
+us. This time three of the eggs were
+hatched, and as the mother hawk sprang up,
+either by accident or intentionally she threw
+two of the young hawks some feet from the nest.
+She rose up and screamed angrily. Then, turning
+toward us, she came like an arrow straight at
+the young lady, a bright plume in whose hat
+probably drew her fire. The damsel gathered up
+her skirts about her and beat a hasty retreat.
+Hawks were not so pretty as she thought they
+were. A large hawk launched at one's face from
+high in the air is calculated to make one a little
+nervous. It is such a fearful incline down which
+the bird comes, and she is aiming exactly toward
+your eye. When within about thirty feet of you,
+she turns upward with a rushing sound, and,
+mounting higher, falls toward you again. She is
+only firing blank cartridges, as it were; but it
+usually has the desired effect, and beats the
+enemy off.</p>
+
+<p>After we had inspected the young hawks, a
+neighbor of my friend offered to conduct us to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+quail's nest. Anything in the shape of a nest is
+always welcome, it is such a mystery, such a centre
+of interest and affection, and, if upon the
+ground, is usually something so dainty and exquisite
+amid the natural wreckage and confusion.
+A ground nest seems so exposed, too, that it always
+gives a little thrill of pleasurable surprise
+to see the group of frail eggs resting there behind
+so slight a barrier. I will walk a long distance
+any day just to see a song sparrow's nest
+amid the stubble or under a tuft of grass. It is
+a jewel in a rosette of jewels, with a frill of
+weeds or turf. A quail's nest I had never seen,
+and to be shown one within the hunting-ground
+of this murderous hawk would be a double pleasure.
+Such a quiet, secluded, grass-grown highway
+as we moved along was itself a rare treat.
+Sequestered was the word that the little valley
+suggested, and peace the feeling the road evoked.
+The farmer, whose fields lay about us, half grown
+with weeds and bushes, evidently did not make
+stir or noise enough to disturb anything. Beside
+this rustic highway, bounded by old mossy
+stone walls, and within a stone's throw of the
+farmer's barn, the quail had made her nest. It
+was just under the edge of a prostrate thorn-bush.</p>
+
+<p>"The nest is right there," said the farmer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+pausing within ten feet of it, and pointing to the
+spot with his stick.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment or two we could make out the
+mottled brown plumage of the sitting bird. Then
+we approached her cautiously till we bent above
+her.</p>
+
+<p>She never moved a feather.</p>
+
+<p>Then I put my cane down in the brush behind
+her. We wanted to see the eggs, yet did
+not want rudely to disturb the sitting hen.</p>
+
+<p>She would not move.</p>
+
+<p>Then I put down my hand within a few inches
+of her; still she kept her place. Should we have
+to lift her off bodily?</p>
+
+<p>Then the young lady put down her hand, probably
+the prettiest and the whitest hand the quail
+had ever seen. At least it started her, and off
+she sprang, uncovering such a crowded nest of
+eggs as I had never before beheld. Twenty-one
+of them! a ring or disk of white like a china tea-saucer.
+You could not help saying, How pretty!
+How cunning! like baby hens' eggs, as if the bird
+were playing at sitting, as children play at housekeeping.</p>
+
+<p>If I had known how crowded her nest was, I
+should not have dared disturb her, for fear she
+would break some of them. But not an egg suffered
+harm by her sudden flight. And no harm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+came to the nest afterward. Every egg hatched,
+I was told, and the little chicks, hardly bigger
+than bumblebees, were led away by the mother
+into the fields.</p>
+
+<p>In about a week I paid another visit to the
+hawk's nest. The eggs were all hatched, and the
+mother bird was hovering near. I shall never
+forget the curious expression of those young
+hawks sitting there on the ground. The expression
+was not one of youth, but of extreme age.
+Such an ancient, infirm look as they had,&mdash;the
+sharp, dark, and shrunken look about the face
+and eyes, and their feeble, tottering motions!
+They sat upon their elbows and the hind part of
+their bodies, and their pale, withered legs and
+feet extended before them in the most helpless
+fashion. Their angular bodies were covered with
+a pale yellowish down, like that of a chicken;
+their heads had a plucked, seedy appearance;
+and their long, strong, naked wings hung down
+by their sides till they touched the ground:
+power and ferocity in the first rude draught,
+shorn of everything but its sinister ugliness. Another
+curious thing was the gradation of the
+young in size; they tapered down regularly from
+the first to the fifth, as if there had been, as probably
+there was, an interval of a day or two between
+the hatchings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The two older ones showed some signs of fear
+on our approach, and one of them threw himself
+upon his back, and put up his impotent legs, and
+glared at us with open beak. The two smaller
+ones regarded us not at all. Neither of the parent
+birds appeared during our stay.</p>
+
+<p>When I visited the nest again, eight or ten
+days later, the birds were much grown, but of as
+marked a difference in size as before, and with
+the same look of extreme old age,&mdash;old age in
+men of the aquiline type, nose and chin coming
+together, and eyes large and sunken. They now
+glared upon us with a wild, savage look, and
+opened their beaks threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>The next week, when my friend visited the
+nest, the larger of the hawks fought him savagely.
+But one of the brood, probably the last
+to hatch, had made but little growth. It appeared
+to be on the point of starvation. The mother
+hawk (for the male seemed to have disappeared)
+had perhaps found her family too large for her,
+and was deliberately allowing one of the number
+to perish; or did the larger and stronger young
+devour all the food before the weaker member
+could obtain any? Probably this was the case.</p>
+
+<p>Arthur brought the feeble nestling away, and
+the same day my little boy got it and brought it
+home, wrapped in a woolen rag. It was clearly a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+starved bantling. It cried feebly but would not
+lift up its head.</p>
+
+<p>We first poured some warm milk down its
+throat, which soon revived it, so that it would
+swallow small bits of flesh. In a day or two we
+had it eating ravenously, and its growth became
+noticeable. Its voice had the sharp whistling
+character of that of its parents, and was stilled
+only when the bird was asleep. We made a pen
+for it, about a yard square, in one end of the study,
+covering the floor with several thicknesses of
+newspapers; and here, upon a bit of brown woolen
+blanket for a nest, the hawk waxed strong day by
+day. An uglier-looking pet, tested by all the rules
+we usually apply to such things, would have been
+hard to find. There he would sit upon his elbows,
+his helpless feet out in front of him, his great featherless
+wings touching the floor, and shrilly cry
+for more food. For a time we gave him water daily
+from a stylograph-pen filler, but the water he
+evidently did not need or relish. Fresh meat, and
+plenty of it, was his demand. And we soon discovered
+that he liked game, such as mice, squirrels,
+birds, much better than butcher's meat.</p>
+
+<p>Then began a lively campaign on the part of
+my little boy against all the vermin and small
+game in the neighborhood, to keep the hawk supplied.
+He trapped and he hunted, he enlisted his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+mates in his service, he even robbed the cats to
+feed the hawk. His usefulness as a boy of all
+work was seriously impaired. "Where is J&mdash;&mdash;?"
+"Gone after a squirrel for his hawk." And
+often the day would be half gone before his hunt
+was successful. The premises were very soon
+cleared of mice, and the vicinity of chipmunks and
+squirrels. Farther and farther he was compelled
+to hunt the surrounding farms and woods to keep
+up with the demands of the hawk. By the time
+the hawk was ready to fly, it had consumed
+twenty-one chipmunks, fourteen red squirrels,
+sixteen mice, and twelve English sparrows, besides
+a great deal of butcher's meat.</p>
+
+<p>His plumage very soon began to show itself,
+crowding off tufts of the down. The quills on his
+great wings sprouted and grew apace. What a
+ragged, uncanny appearance he presented! but
+his look of extreme age gradually became modified.
+What a lover of the sunlight he was! We
+would put him out upon the grass in the full blaze
+of the morning sun, and he would spread his wings
+and bask in it with the most intense enjoyment.
+In the nest the young must be exposed to the
+full power of the midday sun during our first
+heated terms in June and July, the thermometer
+often going up to ninety-three or ninety-five degrees,
+so that sunshine seemed to be a need of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+his nature. He liked the rain equally well, and
+when put out in a shower would sit down and
+take it as if every drop did him good.</p>
+
+<p>His legs developed nearly as slowly as his
+wings. He could not stand steadily upon them
+till about ten days before he was ready to fly.
+The talons were limp and feeble. When we came
+with food, he would hobble along toward us like
+the worst kind of a cripple, drooping and moving
+his wings, and treading upon his legs from
+the foot back to the elbow, the foot remaining
+closed and useless. Like a baby learning to stand,
+he made many trials before he succeeded. He
+would rise up on his trembling legs only to fall
+back again.</p>
+
+<p>One day, in the summer-house, I saw him for
+the first time stand for a moment squarely upon
+his legs with the feet fully spread beneath them.
+He looked about him as if the world suddenly
+wore a new aspect.</p>
+
+<p>His plumage now grew quite rapidly. One red
+squirrel a day, chopped fine with an axe, was
+his ration. He began to hold his game with his
+foot while he tore it. The study was full of
+his shed down. His dark-brown mottled plumage
+began to grow beautiful. The wings drooped a
+little, but gradually he got control of them, and
+held them in place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was now the 20th of July, and the hawk
+was about five weeks old. In a day or two he was
+walking or jumping about the grounds. He chose
+a position under the edge of a Norway spruce,
+where he would sit for hours dozing, or looking
+out upon the landscape. When we brought him
+game, he would advance to meet us with wings
+slightly lifted, and uttering a shrill cry. Toss him
+a mouse or sparrow, and he would seize it with
+one foot and hop off to his cover, where he
+would bend above it, spread his plumage, look
+this way and that, uttering all the time the most
+exultant and satisfied chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>About this time he began to practice striking
+with his talons, as an Indian boy might begin
+practicing with his bow and arrow. He would
+strike at a dry leaf in the grass, or at a fallen
+apple, or at some imaginary object. He was learning
+the use of his weapons. His wings also,&mdash;he
+seemed to feel them sprouting from his
+shoulders. He would lift them straight up and
+hold them expanded, and they would seem to
+quiver with excitement. Every hour in the day
+he would do this. The pressure was beginning to
+centre there. Then he would strike playfully at
+a leaf or a bit of wood, and keep his wings
+lifted.</p>
+
+<p>The next step was to spring into the air and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+beat his wings. He seemed now to be thinking
+entirely of his wings. They itched to be put to
+use.</p>
+
+<p>A day or two later he would leap and fly several
+feet. A pile of brush ten or twelve feet below
+the bank was easily reached. Here he would
+perch in true hawk fashion, to the bewilderment
+and scandal of all the robins and catbirds in the
+vicinity. Here he would dart his eye in all directions,
+turning his head over and glancing up into
+the sky.</p>
+
+<p>He was now a lovely creature, fully fledged,
+and as tame as a kitten. But he was not a bit like a
+kitten in one respect,&mdash;he could not bear to have
+you stroke or even touch his plumage. He had a
+horror of your hand, as if it would hopelessly defile
+him. But he would perch upon it, and allow you
+to carry him about. If a dog or cat appeared, he
+was ready to give battle instantly. He rushed
+up to a little dog one day, and struck him with
+his foot savagely. He was afraid of strangers,
+and of any unusual object.</p>
+
+<p>The last week in July he began to fly quite
+freely, and it was necessary to clip one of his
+wings. As the clipping embraced only the ends
+of his primaries, he soon overcame the difficulty,
+and, by carrying his broad, long tail more on that
+side, flew with considerable ease. He made longer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+and longer excursions into the surrounding fields
+and vineyards, and did not always return. On such
+occasions we would go to find him and fetch him
+back.</p>
+
+<p>Late one rainy afternoon he flew away into the
+vineyard, and when, an hour later, I went after
+him, he could not be found, and we never saw him
+again. We hoped hunger would soon drive him
+back, but we have had no clew to him from that
+day to this.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE WINTER WREN</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">An</span> old hemlock wood at the head waters of
+the Delaware is a chosen haunt of the winter
+wren. His voice fills these dim aisles, as if aided
+by some marvelous sounding-board. Indeed, his
+song is very strong for so small a bird, and unites
+in a remarkable degree brilliancy and plaintiveness.
+I think of a tremulous, vibrating tongue
+of silver. You may know it is the song of a wren
+from its gushing, lyrical character; but you must
+needs look sharp to see the little minstrel, especially
+while in the act of singing. He is nearly the
+color of the ground and the leaves; he never
+ascends the tall trees, but keeps low, flitting
+from stump to stump and from root to root, dodging
+in and out of his hiding-places, and watching
+all intruders with a suspicious eye. He has a very
+pert, almost comical look. His tail stands more
+than perpendicular: it points straight toward his
+head. He is the least ostentatious singer I know
+of. He does not strike an attitude, and lift up
+his head in preparation, and, as it were, clear his
+throat; but sits there on a log and pours out his
+music, looking straight before him, or even down
+at the ground. As a songster, he has but few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+superiors. I do not hear him after the first week
+in July.</p>
+
+<p>The winter wren is so called because he sometimes
+braves our northern winters, but it is rarely
+that one sees him at this season. I think I have seen
+him only two or three times in winter in my life.
+The event of one long walk, recently, in February,
+was seeing one of these birds. As I followed a
+byroad, beside a little creek in the edge of a wood,
+my eye caught a glimpse of a small brown bird
+darting under a stone bridge. I thought to myself
+no bird but a wren would take refuge under
+so small a bridge as that. I stepped down upon
+it and expected to see the bird dart out at the
+upper end. As it did not appear, I scrutinized
+the bank of the little run, covered with logs and
+brush, a few rods farther up.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I saw the wren curtsying and gesticulating
+beneath an old log. As I approached
+he disappeared beneath some loose stones in the
+bank, then came out again and took another peep
+at me, then fidgeted about for a moment and disappeared
+again, running in and out of the holes
+and recesses and beneath the rubbish like a mouse
+or a chipmunk. The winter wren may always be
+known by these squatting, bobbing-out-and-in
+habits.</p>
+
+<p>As I sought a still closer view of him, he flitted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+stealthily a few yards up the run and disappeared
+beneath a small plank bridge near a
+house.</p>
+
+<p>I wondered what he could feed upon at such
+a time. There was a light skim of snow upon the
+ground, and the weather was cold. The wren, so
+far as I know, is entirely an insect-feeder, and
+where can he find insects in midwinter in our
+climate? Probably by searching under bridges,
+under brush-heaps, in holes and cavities in banks
+where the sun falls warm. In such places he may
+find dormant spiders and flies and other hibernating
+insects or their larv&aelig;. We have a tiny,
+mosquito-like creature that comes forth in March
+or in midwinter, as soon as the temperature is a
+little above freezing. One may see them performing
+their fantastic air-dances when the air is
+so chilly that one buttons his overcoat about him
+in his walk. They are darker than the mosquito,&mdash;a
+sort of dark water-color,&mdash;and are very
+frail to the touch. Maybe the wren knows the
+hiding-place of these insects.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CEDAR-BIRD</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">How</span> alert and vigilant the birds are, even when
+absorbed in building their nests! In an open
+space in the woods I see a pair of cedar-birds
+collecting moss from the top of a dead tree. Following
+the direction in which they fly, I soon
+discover the nest placed in the fork of a small
+soft maple, which stands amid a thick growth of
+wild cherry-trees and young beeches. Carefully
+concealing myself beneath it, without any fear
+that the workmen will hit me with a chip or let
+fall a tool, I await the return of the busy pair.
+Presently I hear the well-known note, and the
+female sweeps down and settles unsuspectingly
+into the half-finished structure. Hardly have her
+wings rested before her eye has penetrated my
+screen, and with a hurried movement of alarm
+she darts away. In a moment the male, with a
+tuft of wool in his beak (for there is a sheep pasture
+near), joins her, and the two reconnoitre
+the premises from the surrounding bushes. With
+their beaks still loaded, they flit round with a
+frightened look, and refuse to approach the
+nest till I have moved off and lain down behind
+a log. Then one of them ventures to alight upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+the nest, but, still suspecting all is not right,
+quickly darts away again. Then they both together
+come, and after much peeping and spying
+about, and apparently much anxious consultation,
+cautiously proceed to work. In less than
+half an hour it would seem that wool enough
+has been brought to supply the whole family,
+real and prospective, with socks, if needles and
+fingers could be found fine enough to knit it up.
+In less than a week the female has begun to deposit
+her eggs,&mdash;four of them in as many days,&mdash;white
+tinged with purple, with black spots on
+the larger end. After two weeks of incubation
+the young are out.</p>
+
+<p>Excepting the American goldfinch, this bird
+builds later in the season than any other, its
+nest, in our northern climate, seldom being undertaken
+till July. As with the goldfinch, the
+reason is, probably, that suitable food for the
+young cannot be had at an earlier period.</p>
+
+<p>I knew a pair of cedar-birds, one season, to
+build in an apple-tree, the branches of which
+rubbed against the house. For a day or two before
+the first straw was laid, I noticed the pair
+carefully exploring every branch of the tree, the
+female taking the lead, the male following her
+with an anxious note and look. It was evident
+that the wife was to have her choice this time;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+and, like one who thoroughly knew her mind, she
+was proceeding to take it. Finally the site was
+chosen upon a high branch, extending over one
+low wing of the house. Mutual congratulations
+and caresses followed, when both birds flew away
+in quest of building-material. That most freely
+used is a sort of cotton-bearing plant which grows
+in old worn-out fields. The nest is large for the
+size of the bird, and very soft. It is in every respect
+a first-class domicile.</p>
+
+<p>The cedar-bird is the most silent bird we have.
+Our neutral-tinted birds, like him, as a rule are
+our finest songsters; but he has no song or call,
+uttering only a fine bead-like note on taking
+flight. This note is the cedar-berry rendered back
+in sound. When the ox-heart cherries, which he
+has only recently become acquainted with, have
+had time to enlarge his pipe and warm his heart,
+I shall expect more music from him. But in lieu
+of music, what a pretty compensation are those
+minute, almost artificial-like, plumes of orange
+and vermilion that tip the ends of his wing quills!
+Nature could not give him these and a song too.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE GOLDFINCH</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">About</span> the most noticeable bird of August in
+New York and New England is the yellowbird,
+or goldfinch. This is one of the last birds to nest,
+seldom hatching its eggs till late in July. It seems
+as if a particular kind of food were required to
+rear its brood, which cannot be had at an earlier
+date. The seed of the common thistle is apparently
+its mainstay. There is no prettier sight at
+this season than a troop of young goldfinches,
+led by their parents, going from thistle to thistle
+along the roadside and pulling the ripe heads to
+pieces for the seed. The plaintive call of the
+young is one of the characteristic August sounds.
+Their nests are frequently destroyed, or the eggs
+thrown from them, by the terrific July thunder-showers.
+Last season a pair had a nest on the
+slender branch of a maple in front of the door
+of the house where I was staying. The eggs
+were being deposited, and the happy pair had a
+loving conversation about them many times each
+day, when one afternoon a very violent storm
+arose which made the branches of the trees stream
+out like wildly disheveled hair, quite turning over
+those on the windward side, and emptying the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+pretty nest of its eggs. In such cases the birds
+build anew,&mdash;a delay that may bring the incubation
+into August.</p>
+
+<p>It is a deep, snug, compact nest, with no loose
+ends hanging, placed in the fork of a small limb
+of an apple-tree, a peach-tree, or an ornamental
+shade-tree. The eggs are faint bluish-white.</p>
+
+<p>While the female is sitting, the male feeds her
+regularly. She calls to him on his approach, or
+when she hears his voice passing by, in the most
+affectionate, feminine, childlike tones, the only
+case I know where the sitting bird makes any
+sound while in the act of incubation. When a
+rival male invades the tree, or approaches too
+near, the male whose nest it holds pursues and
+reasons or expostulates with him in the same
+bright, amicable, confiding tones. Indeed, most
+birds make use of their sweetest notes in war.
+The song of love is the song of battle too. The
+male yellowbirds flit about from point to point,
+apparently assuring each other of the highest
+sentiments of esteem and consideration, at the
+same time that one intimates to the other that
+he is carrying his joke a little too far. It has the
+effect of saying with mild and good-humored surprise,
+"Why, my dear sir, this is my territory;
+you surely do not mean to trespass; permit me
+to salute you, and to escort you over the line."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+Yet the intruder does not always take the hint.
+Occasionally the couple have a brief sparring-match
+in the air, and mount up and up, beak to
+beak, to a considerable height, but rarely do they
+actually come to blows.</p>
+
+<p>The yellowbird becomes active and conspicuous
+after the other birds have nearly all withdrawn
+from the stage and become silent, their
+broods reared and flown. August is his month,
+his festive season. It is his turn now. The thistles
+are ripening their seeds, and his nest is undisturbed
+by jay-bird or crow. He is the first bird
+I hear in the morning, circling and swinging
+through the air in that peculiar undulating flight,
+and calling out on the downward curve of each
+stroke, "Here we go, here we go!" Every hour
+in the day he indulges in his circling, billowy
+flight. It is a part of his musical performance.
+His course at such times is a deeply undulating
+line, like the long, gentle roll of the summer sea,
+the distance from crest to crest or from valley to
+valley being probably thirty feet; this distance
+is made with but one brief beating of the wings
+on the downward curve. As he quickly opens
+them, they give him a strong upward impulse,
+and he describes the long arc with them closely
+folded. Thus, falling and recovering, rising and
+sinking like dolphins in the sea, he courses through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+the summer air. In marked contrast to this feat
+is his manner of flying when he indulges in a
+brief outburst of song on the wing. Now he flies
+level, with broad expanded wings nearly as round
+and as concave as two shells, which beat the
+air slowly. The song is the chief matter now,
+and the wings are used only to keep him afloat
+while delivering it. In the other case, the flight
+is the main concern, and the voice merely punctuates
+it.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>Among our familiar birds the matchmaking
+of none other is quite so pretty as that of the
+goldfinch. The goldfinches stay with us in loose
+flocks and clad in a dull-olive suit throughout
+the winter. In May the males begin to put on
+their bright summer plumage. This is the result
+of a kind of superficial moulting. Their feathers
+are not shed, but their dusky covering or overalls
+are cast off. When the process is only partly
+completed, the bird has a smutty, unpresentable
+appearance. But we seldom see them at such
+times. They seem to retire from society. When
+the change is complete, and the males have got
+their bright uniforms of yellow and black, the
+courting begins. All the goldfinches of a neighborhood
+collect together and hold a sort of musical
+festival. To the number of many dozens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+they may be seen in some large tree, all singing
+and calling in the most joyous and vivacious manner.
+The males sing, and the females chirp and
+call. Whether there is actual competition on a
+trial of musical abilities of the males before the
+females or not, I do not know. The best of feeling
+seems to pervade the company; there is no
+sign of quarreling or fighting; "all goes merry
+as a marriage bell," and the matches seem actually
+to be made during these musical picnics.
+Before May is passed the birds are seen in
+couples, and in June housekeeping usually begins.
+This I call the ideal of love-making among
+birds, and is in striking contrast to the squabbles
+and jealousies of most of our songsters.</p>
+
+<p>I have known the goldfinches to keep up this
+musical and love-making festival through three
+consecutive days of a cold northeast rainstorm.
+Bedraggled, but ardent and happy, the birds were
+not to be dispersed by wind or weather.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE HEN-HAWK<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">August</span> is the month of the high-sailing hawks.
+The hen-hawk is the most noticeable. He likes
+the haze and calm of these long, warm days. He
+is a bird of leisure, and seems always at his ease.
+How beautiful and majestic are his movements!
+So self-poised and easy, such an entire absence
+of haste, such a magnificent amplitude of circles
+and spirals, such a haughty, imperial grace, and,
+occasionally, such daring aerial evolutions!</p>
+
+<p>With slow, leisurely movement, rarely vibrating
+his pinions, he mounts and mounts in an ascending
+spiral till he appears a mere speck against
+the summer sky; then, if the mood seizes him,
+with wings half closed, like a bent bow, he will
+cleave the air almost perpendicularly, as if intent
+on dashing himself to pieces against the earth;
+but on nearing the ground he suddenly mounts
+again on broad, expanded wing, as if rebounding
+upon the air, and sails leisurely away. It is the
+sublimest feat of the season. One holds his breath
+till he sees him rise again.</p>
+
+<p>If inclined to a more gradual and less precipitous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+descent, he fixes his eye on some distant
+point in the earth beneath him, and thither bends
+his course. He is still almost meteoric in his speed
+and boldness. You see his path down the heavens,
+straight as a line; if near, you hear the rush
+of his wings; his shadow hurtles across the fields,
+and in an instant you see him quietly perched
+upon some low tree or decayed stub in a swamp
+or meadow, with reminiscences of frogs and mice
+stirring in his maw.</p>
+
+<p>When the south wind blows, it is a study to
+see three or four of these air-kings at the head
+of the valley far up toward the mountain, balancing
+and oscillating upon the strong current;
+now quite stationary, except for a slight tremulous
+motion like the poise of a rope-dancer, then rising
+and falling in long undulations, and seeming
+to resign themselves passively to the wind;
+or, again, sailing high and level far above the
+mountain's peak, no bluster and haste, but, as
+stated, occasionally a terrible earnestness and
+speed. Fire at one as he sails overhead, and, unless
+wounded badly, he will not change his course
+or gait.</p>
+
+<p>The calmness and dignity of this hawk, when
+attacked by crows or the kingbird, are well worthy
+of him. He seldom deigns to notice his noisy
+and furious antagonists, but deliberately wheels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+about in that aerial spiral, and mounts and mounts
+till his pursuers grow dizzy and return to earth
+again. It is quite original, this mode of getting
+rid of an unworthy opponent,&mdash;rising to heights
+where the braggart is dazed and bewildered and
+loses his reckoning! I am not sure but it is worthy
+of imitation.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The red-tailed and red-shouldered hawks are both called
+hen-hawks.</p></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE RUFFED GROUSE, OR PARTRIDGE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Whir! whir! whir!</span> and a brood of half-grown
+partridges start up like an explosion, a few paces
+from me, and, scattering, disappear into the bushes
+on all sides. Let me sit down here behind the
+screen of ferns and briers, and hear this wild
+hen of the woods call together her brood. At
+what an early age the partridge flies! Nature
+seems to concentrate her energies on the wing,
+making the safety of the bird a point to be
+looked after first; and while the body is covered
+with down, and no signs of feathers are visible
+there, the wing-quills sprout and unfold, and in
+an incredibly short time the young make fair
+headway in flying.</p>
+
+<p>Hark! there arises over there in the brush a
+soft, persuasive cooing, a sound so subtle and
+wild and unobtrusive that it requires the most
+alert and watchful ear to hear it. How gentle
+and solicitous and full of yearning love! It is
+the voice of the mother hen. Presently a faint
+timid "Yeap!" which almost eludes the ear, is
+heard in various directions,&mdash;the young responding.
+As no danger seems near, the cooing of the
+parent bird is soon a very audible clucking call,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+and the young move cautiously in that direction.
+Let me step never so carefully from my hiding-place,
+and all sounds instantly cease, and I
+search in vain for either parent or young.</p>
+
+<p>The partridge is one of our native and most
+characteristic birds. The woods seem good to be
+in where I find him. He gives a habitable air to
+the forest, and one feels as if the rightful occupant
+were really at home. The woods where I
+do not find him seem to want something, as if
+suffering from some neglect of Nature. And
+then he is such a splendid success, so hardy and
+vigorous. I think he enjoys the cold and the
+snow. His wings seem to rustle with more fervency
+in midwinter. If the snow falls very fast,
+and promises a heavy storm, he will complacently
+sit down and allow himself to be snowed under.
+When you approach him at such times, he suddenly
+bursts out of the snow at your feet, scattering
+the flakes in all directions, and goes
+humming away through the woods like a bomb-shell,&mdash;a
+picture of native spirit and success.</p>
+
+<p>His drum is one of the most welcome and
+beautiful sounds of spring. Scarcely have the
+trees expanded their buds, when, in the still April
+mornings, or toward nightfall, you hear the hum
+of his devoted wings. He selects, not, as you
+would predict, a dry and resinous log, but a decayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+and crumbling one, seeming to give the
+preference to old oak-logs that are partly blended
+with the soil. If a log to his taste cannot be
+found, he sets up his altar on a rock, which becomes
+resonant beneath his fervent blows. Who
+has seen the partridge drum? It is the next
+thing to catching a weasel asleep, though by
+much caution and tact it may be done. He does
+not hug the log, but stands very erect, expands
+his ruff, gives two introductory blows, pauses
+half a second, and then resumes, striking faster
+and faster till the sound becomes a continuous,
+unbroken whir, the whole lasting less than half
+a minute. The tips of his wings barely brush the
+log, so that the sound is produced rather by the
+force of the blows upon the air and upon his
+own body as in flying. One log will be used for
+many years, though not by the same drummer.
+It seems to be a sort of temple and held in great
+respect. The bird always approaches on foot,
+and leaves it in the same quiet manner, unless
+rudely disturbed. He is very cunning, though his
+wit is not profound. It is difficult to approach
+him by stealth; you will try many times before
+succeeding; but seem to pass by him in a great
+hurry, making all the noise possible, and with
+plumage furled he stands as immovable as a knot,
+allowing you a good view.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The sharp-rayed track of the partridge adds
+another figure to the fantastic embroidery upon
+the winter snow. Her course is a clear, strong
+line, sometimes quite wayward, but generally very
+direct, steering for the densest, most impenetrable
+places,&mdash;leading you over logs and through
+brush, alert and expectant, till, suddenly, she
+bursts up a few yards from you, and goes humming
+through the trees,&mdash;the complete triumph
+of endurance and vigor. Hardy native bird, may
+your tracks never be fewer, or your visits to the
+birch-tree less frequent!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE PARTRIDGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 17em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">List</span> the booming from afar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Soft as hum of roving bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vague as when on distant bar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fall the cataracts of the sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet again, a sound astray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was it the humming of the mill?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was it cannon leagues away?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or dynamite beyond the hill?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'T is the grouse with kindled soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wistful of his mate and nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounding forth his vernal roll<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On his love-enkindled breast.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">List his fervid morning drum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">List his summons soft and deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calling Spice-bush till she come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Waking Bloodroot from her sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! ruffled drummer, let thy wing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beat a march the days will heed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake and spur the tardy spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till minstrel voices jocund ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And spring is spring in very deed.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CROW</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> crow may not have the sweet voice which
+the fox in his flattery attributed to him, but he
+has a good, strong, native speech nevertheless.
+How much character there is in it! How much
+thrift and independence! Of course his plumage
+is firm, his color decided, his wit quick. He understands
+you at once and tells you so; so does
+the hawk by his scornful, defiant <i>whir-r-r-r-r</i>.
+Hardy, happy outlaws, the crows, how I love
+them! Alert, social, republican, always able to
+look out for himself, not afraid of the cold and
+the snow, fishing when flesh is scarce, and stealing
+when other resources fail, the crow is a
+character I would not willingly miss from the
+landscape. I love to see his track in the snow or
+the mud, and his graceful pedestrianism about
+the brown fields.</p>
+
+<p>He is no interloper, but has the air and manner
+of being thoroughly at home, and in rightful
+possession of the land. He is no sentimentalist
+like some of the plaining, disconsolate song-birds,
+but apparently is always in good health
+and good spirits. No matter who is sick, or dejected,
+or unsatisfied, or what the weather is, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+what the price of corn, the crow is well and finds
+life sweet. He is the dusky embodiment of
+worldly wisdom and prudence. Then he is one
+of Nature's self-appointed constables and greatly
+magnifies his office. He would fain arrest every
+hawk or owl or grimalkin that ventures abroad.
+I have known a posse of them to beset the fox
+and cry "Thief!" till Reynard hid himself for
+shame. Do I say the fox flattered the crow when
+he told him he had a sweet voice? Yet one of
+the most musical sounds in nature proceeds from
+the crow. All the crow tribe, from the blue jay
+up, are capable of certain low ventriloquial notes
+that have peculiar cadence and charm. I often
+hear the crow indulging in his in winter, and am
+reminded of the sound of the dulcimer. The bird
+stretches up and exerts himself like a cock in the
+act of crowing, and gives forth a peculiarly clear,
+vitreous sound that is sure to arrest and reward
+your attention. This is, no doubt, the song the
+fox begged to be favored with, as in delivering
+it the crow must inevitably let drop the piece of
+meat.</p>
+
+<p>The crow has fine manners. He always has
+the walk and air of a lord of the soil. One morning
+I put out some fresh meat upon the snow
+near my study window. Presently a crow came
+and carried it off, and alighted with it upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+ground in the vineyard. While he was eating it,
+another crow came, and, alighting a few yards
+away, slowly walked up to within a few feet of
+this fellow and stopped. I expected to see a
+struggle over the food, as would have been the
+case with domestic fowls or animals. Nothing of
+the kind. The feeding crow stopped eating, regarded
+the other for a moment, made a gesture
+or two, and flew away. Then the second crow
+went up to the food, and proceeded to take his
+share. Presently the first crow came back, when
+each seized a portion of the food and flew away
+with it. Their mutual respect and good-will
+seemed perfect. Whether it really was so in our
+human sense, or whether it was simply an illustration
+of the instinct of mutual support which
+seems to prevail among gregarious birds, I know
+not. Birds that are solitary in their habits, like
+hawks or woodpeckers, behave quite differently
+toward each other in the presence of their food.</p>
+
+<p>The crow will quickly discover anything that
+looks like a trap or snare set to catch him, but it
+takes him a long time to see through the simplest
+contrivance. As I have above stated, I sometimes
+place meat on the snow in front of my study
+window to attract him. On one occasion, after a
+couple of crows had come to expect something
+there daily, I suspended a piece of meat by a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+string from a branch of the tree just over the
+spot where I usually placed the food. A crow
+soon discovered it, and came into the tree to
+see what it meant. His suspicions were aroused.
+There was some design in that suspended meat,
+evidently. It was a trap to catch him. He surveyed
+it from every near branch. He peeked and
+pried, and was bent on penetrating the mystery.
+He flew to the ground, and walked about and
+surveyed it from all sides. Then he took a long
+walk down about the vineyard as if in hope of
+hitting upon some clew. Then he came to the
+tree again, and tried first one eye, then the other,
+upon it; then to the ground beneath; then he
+went away and came back; then his fellow came,
+and they both squinted and investigated, and
+then disappeared. Chickadees and woodpeckers
+would alight upon the meat and peck it swinging
+in the wind, but the crows were fearful. Does
+this show reflection? Perhaps it does, but I look
+upon it rather as that instinct of fear and cunning
+so characteristic of the crow. Two days
+passed thus: every morning the crows came and
+surveyed the suspended meat from all points in
+the tree, and then went away. The third day I
+placed a large bone on the snow beneath the suspended
+morsel. Presently one of the crows appeared
+in the tree, and bent his eye upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+tempting bone. "The mystery deepens," he
+seemed to say to himself. But after half an hour's
+investigation, and after approaching several times
+within a few feet of the food upon the ground,
+he seemed to conclude there was no connection
+between it and the piece hanging by the string.
+So he finally walked up to it and fell to pecking
+it, flickering his wings all the time, as a sign of
+his watchfulness. He also turned up his eye,
+momentarily, to the piece in the air above, as if
+it might be some disguised sword of Damocles
+ready to fall upon him. Soon his mate came and
+alighted on a low branch of the tree. The feeding
+crow regarded him a moment, and then flew
+up to his side, as if to give him a turn at the
+meat. But he refused to run the risk. He evidently
+looked upon the whole thing as a delusion
+and a snare, and presently went away, and his
+mate followed him. Then I placed the bone in
+one of the main forks of the tree, but the crows
+kept at a safe distance from it. Then I put it
+back to the ground, but they grew more and
+more suspicious; some evil intent in it all, they
+thought. Finally a dog carried off the bone, and
+the crows ceased to visit the tree.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>From my boyhood I have seen the yearly meeting
+of the crows in September or October, on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+high grassy hill or a wooded ridge. Apparently,
+all the crows from a large area assemble at these
+times; you may see them coming, singly or in
+loose bands, from all directions to the rendezvous,
+till there are hundreds of them together. They
+make black an acre or two of ground. At intervals
+they all rise in the air, and wheel about, all
+cawing at once. Then to the ground again, or to
+the tree-tops, as the case may be; then, rising
+again, they send forth the voice of the multitude.
+What does it all mean? I notice that this rally
+is always preliminary to their going into winter
+quarters. It would be interesting to know just
+the nature of the communication that takes place
+between them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE CROW</h3>
+
+<h4>I</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">My</span> friend and neighbor through the year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Self-appointed overseer<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of my crops of fruit and grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of my woods and furrowed plain,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Claim thy tithings right and left,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall never call it theft.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nature wisely made the law,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I fail to find a flaw<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In thy title to the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all it holds of any worth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I like thy self-complacent air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I like thy ways so free from care,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy landlord stroll about my fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quickly noting what each yields;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy courtly mien and bearing bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if thy claim were bought with gold;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy floating shape against the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When days are calm and clouds are high;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy thrifty flight ere rise of sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy homing clans when day is done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hues protective are not thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sleek thy coat each quill doth shine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Diamond black to end of toe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy counterpoint the crystal snow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>II</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never plaintive nor appealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite at home when thou art stealing,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Always groomed to tip of feather,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calm and trim in every weather,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Morn till night my woods policing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every sound thy watch increasing.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hawk and owl in tree-top hiding<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feel the shame of thy deriding.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Naught escapes thy observation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None but dread thy accusation.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<h4>III</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hunters, prowlers, woodland lovers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vainly seek the leafy covers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Noisy, scheming, and predacious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With demeanor almost gracious,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dowered with leisure, void of hurry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Void of fuss and void of worry,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Friendly bandit, Robin Hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Judge and jury of the wood,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or Captain Kidd of sable quill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hiding treasures in the hill,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nature made thee for each season,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave thee wit for ample reason,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good crow wit that's always burnished<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the coat her care has furnished.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May thy numbers ne'er diminish!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll befriend thee till life's finish.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May I never cease to meet thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May I never have to eat thee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And mayest thou never have to fare so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou playest the part of scarecrow!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE NORTHERN SHRIKE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Usually</span> the character of a bird of prey is well
+defined; there is no mistaking him. His claws,
+his beak, his head, his wings, in fact his whole
+build, point to the fact that he subsists upon live
+creatures; he is armed to catch them and to slay
+them. Every bird knows a hawk and knows him
+from the start, and is on the lookout for him.
+The hawk takes life, but he does it to maintain
+his own, and it is a public and universally known
+fact. Nature has sent him abroad in that character,
+and has advised all creatures of it. Not so
+with the shrike; here she has concealed the character
+of a murderer under a form as innocent as
+that of the robin. Feet, wings, tail, color, head,
+and general form and size are all those of a song-bird,&mdash;very
+much like that master songster, the
+mockingbird,&mdash;yet this bird is a regular Bluebeard
+among its kind. Its only characteristic
+feature is its beak, the upper mandible having two
+sharp processes and a sharp hooked point. It usually
+impales its victim upon a thorn, or thrusts it
+in the fork of a limb. For the most part, however,
+its food seems to consist of insects,&mdash;spiders,
+grasshoppers, beetles, etc. It is the assassin of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+the small birds, whom it often destroys in pure
+wantonness, or merely to sup on their brains, as
+the Gaucho slaughters a wild cow or bull for its
+tongue. It is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Apparently
+its victims are unacquainted with its true
+character and allow it to approach them, when
+the fatal blow is given. I saw an illustration of
+this the other day. A large number of goldfinches
+in their fall plumage, together with snowbirds
+and sparrows, were feeding and chattering
+in some low bushes back of the barn. I had
+paused by the fence and was peeping through at
+them, hoping to get a glimpse of that rare sparrow,
+the white-crowned. Presently I heard a rustling
+among the dry leaves as if some larger bird
+were also among them. Then I heard one of the
+goldfinches cry out as if in distress, when the
+whole flock of them started up in alarm, and,
+circling around, settled in the tops of the larger
+trees. I continued my scrutiny of the bushes,
+when I saw a large bird, with some object in its
+beak, hopping along on a low branch near the
+ground. It disappeared from my sight for a few
+moments, then came up through the undergrowth
+into the top of a young maple where some of the
+finches had alighted, and I beheld the shrike.
+The little birds avoided him and flew about the
+tree, their pursuer following them with the motions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+of his head and body as if he would fain
+arrest them by his murderous gaze. The birds did
+not utter the cry or make the demonstration of
+alarm they usually do on the appearance of a
+hawk, but chirruped and called and flew about
+in a half wondering, half bewildered manner. As
+they flew farther along the line of trees the
+shrike followed them as if bent on further captures.
+I then made my way around to see what the
+shrike had caught, and what he had done with
+his prey. As I approached the bushes I saw the
+shrike hastening back. I read his intentions at
+once. Seeing my movements, he had returned
+for his game. But I was too quick for him, and
+he got up out of the brush and flew away from
+the locality. On some twigs in the thickest part
+of the bushes I found his victim,&mdash;a goldfinch.
+It was not impaled upon a thorn, but was carefully
+disposed upon some horizontal twigs,&mdash;laid
+upon the shelf, so to speak. It was as warm
+as in life, and its plumage was unruffled. On examining
+it I found a large bruise or break in the
+skin on the back of the neck, at the base of the
+skull. Here the bandit had no doubt gripped the
+bird with his strong beak. The shrike's bloodthirstiness
+was seen in the fact that he did not
+stop to devour his prey, but went in quest of
+more, as if opening a market of goldfinches. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+thicket was his shambles, and if not interrupted,
+he might have had a fine display of titbits in a
+short time.</p>
+
+<p>The shrike is called a butcher from his habit
+of sticking his meat upon hooks and points;
+further than that, he is a butcher because he devours
+but a trifle of what he slays.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SCREECH OWL</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">At</span> one point in the grayest, most shaggy part
+of the woods, I come suddenly upon a brood of
+screech owls, full grown, sitting together upon a
+dry, moss-draped limb, but a few feet from the
+ground. I pause within four or five yards of them
+and am looking about me, when my eye lights
+upon these gray, motionless figures. They sit
+perfectly upright, some with their backs and
+some with their breasts toward me, but every
+head turned squarely in my direction. Their eyes
+are closed to a mere black line; through this
+crack they are watching me, evidently thinking
+themselves unobserved. The spectacle is weird
+and grotesque, and suggests something impish
+and uncanny. It is a new effect, the night side
+of the woods by daylight. After observing them
+a moment I take a single step toward them, when,
+quick as thought, their eyes fly wide open, their
+attitude is changed, they bend, some this way,
+some that, and, instinct with life and motion,
+stare wildly around them. Another step, and
+they all take flight but one, which stoops low on
+the branch, and with the look of a frightened
+cat regards me for a few seconds over its shoulder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+They fly swiftly and softly, and disperse through
+the trees.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>A winter neighbor of mine, in whom I am interested,
+and who perhaps lends me his support
+after his kind, is a little red owl, whose retreat
+is in the heart of an old apple-tree just over the
+fence. Where he keeps himself in spring and
+summer, I do not know, but late every fall, and
+at intervals all winter, his hiding-place is discovered
+by the jays and nuthatches, and proclaimed
+from the tree-tops for the space of half
+an hour or so, with all the powers of voice they
+can command. Four times during one winter
+they called me out to behold this little ogre feigning
+sleep in his den, sometimes in one apple-tree,
+sometimes in another. Whenever I heard their
+cries, I knew my neighbor was being berated.
+The birds would take turns at looking in upon
+him, and uttering their alarm-notes. Every jay
+within hearing would come to the spot, and at
+once approach the hole in the trunk or limb, and
+with a kind of breathless eagerness and excitement
+take a peep at the owl, and then join the
+outcry. When I approached they would hastily
+take a final look, and then withdraw and regard
+my movements intently. After accustoming my
+eye to the faint light of the cavity for a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+moments, I could usually make out the owl at the
+bottom feigning sleep. Feigning, I say, because
+this is what he really did, as I first discovered
+one day when I cut into his retreat with the axe.
+The loud blows and the falling chips did not
+disturb him at all. When I reached in a stick
+and pulled him over on his side, leaving one of
+his wings spread out, he made no attempt to recover
+himself, but lay among the chips and fragments
+of decayed wood, like a part of themselves.
+Indeed, it took a sharp eye to distinguish him.
+Not till I had pulled him forth by one wing,
+rather rudely, did he abandon his trick of simulated
+sleep or death. Then, like a detected pickpocket,
+he was suddenly transformed into another
+creature. His eyes flew wide open, his talons
+clutched my finger, his ears were depressed, and
+every motion and look said, "Hands off, at your
+peril." Finding this game did not work, he soon
+began to "play possum" again. I put a cover
+over my study wood-box and kept him captive
+for a week. Look in upon him at any time, night
+or day, and he was apparently wrapped in the
+profoundest slumber; but the live mice which I
+put into his box from time to time found his
+sleep was easily broken; there would be a sudden
+rustle in the box, a faint squeak, and then silence.
+After a week of captivity I gave him his freedom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+in the full sunshine; no trouble for him to see
+which way and where to go.</p>
+
+<p>Just at dusk in the winter nights, I often
+hear his soft <i>bur-r-r-r</i>, very pleasing and bell-like.
+What a furtive, woody sound it is in the winter
+stillness, so unlike the harsh scream of the hawk!
+But all the ways of the owl are ways of softness
+and duskiness. His wings are shod with silence,
+his plumage is edged with down.</p>
+
+<p>Another owl neighbor of mine, with whom I
+pass the time of day more frequently than with
+the last, lives farther away. I pass his castle
+every night on my way to the post-office, and in
+winter, if the hour is late enough, am pretty
+sure to see him standing in his doorway, surveying
+the passers-by and the landscape through
+narrow slits in his eyes. For four successive
+winters now have I observed him. As the twilight
+begins to deepen, he rises up out of his cavity
+in the apple-tree, scarcely faster than the moon
+rises from behind the hill, and sits in the opening,
+completely framed by its outlines of gray
+bark and dead wood, and by his protective coloring
+virtually invisible to every eye that does
+not know he is there. Probably my own is
+the only eye that has ever penetrated his secret,
+and mine never would have done so had I not
+chanced on one occasion to see him leave his retreat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+and make a raid upon a shrike that was
+impaling a shrew-mouse upon a thorn in a neighboring
+tree, and which I was watching. I was
+first advised of the owl's presence by seeing him
+approaching swiftly on silent, level wing. The
+shrike did not see him till the owl was almost
+within the branches. He then dropped his game,
+and darted back into the thick cover, uttering a
+loud, discordant squawk, as one would say, "Scat!
+scat! scat!" The owl alighted, and was, perhaps,
+looking about him for the shrike's impaled game,
+when I drew near. On seeing me, he reversed
+his movement precipitately, flew straight back to
+the old tree, and alighted in the entrance to the
+cavity. As I approached, he did not so much
+seem to move as to diminish in size, like an object
+dwindling in the distance; he depressed his plumage,
+and, with his eye fixed upon me, began
+slowly to back and sidle into his retreat till he
+faded from my sight. The shrike wiped his beak
+upon the branches, cast an eye down at me and
+at his lost mouse, and then flew away.</p>
+
+<p>A few nights afterward, as I passed that way,
+I saw the little owl again sitting in his doorway,
+waiting for the twilight to deepen, and undisturbed
+by the passers-by; but when I paused to
+observe him, he saw that he was discovered, and
+he slunk back into his den as on the former occasion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+Ever since, while going that way, I have
+been on the lookout for him. Dozens of teams
+and foot-passengers pass him late in the day,
+but he regards them not, nor they him. When I
+come along and pause to salute him, he opens
+his eyes a little wider, and, appearing to recognize
+me, quickly shrinks and fades into the background
+of his door in a very weird and curious
+manner. When he is not at his outlook, or
+when he is, it requires the best powers of the
+eye to decide the point, as the empty cavity itself
+is almost an exact image of him. If the
+whole thing had been carefully studied, it could
+not have answered its purpose better. The owl
+stands quite perpendicular, presenting a front of
+light mottled gray; the eyes are closed to a
+mere slit, the ear-feathers depressed, the beak
+buried in the plumage, and the whole attitude is
+one of silent, motionless waiting and observation.
+If a mouse should be seen crossing the highway,
+or scudding over any exposed part of the snowy
+surface in the twilight, the owl would doubtless
+swoop down upon it. I think the owl has learned
+to distinguish me from the rest of the passers-by;
+at least, when I stop before him, and he sees
+himself observed, he backs down into his den, as
+I have said, in a very amusing manner.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CHICKADEE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> chickadees we have always with us. They
+are like the evergreens among trees and plants.
+Winter has no terrors for them. They are properly
+wood-birds, but the groves and orchards
+know them also. Did they come near my cabin
+for better protection, or did they chance to find
+a little cavity in a tree there that suited them?
+Branch-builders and ground-builders are easily
+accommodated, but the chickadee must find
+a cavity, and a small one at that. The woodpeckers
+make a cavity when a suitable trunk or
+branch is found, but the chickadee, with its
+small, sharp beak, rarely does so; it usually
+smooths and deepens one already formed. This
+a pair did a few yards from my cabin. The opening
+was into the heart of a little sassafras, about
+four feet from the ground. Day after day the
+birds took turns in deepening and enlarging the
+cavity: a soft, gentle hammering for a few moments
+in the heart of the little tree, and then the
+appearance of the worker at the opening, with
+the chips in his, or her, beak. They changed off
+every little while, one working while the other
+gathered food. Absolute equality of the sexes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+both in plumage and in duties, seems to prevail
+among these birds, as among a few other species.
+During the preparations for housekeeping the
+birds were hourly seen and heard, but as soon as
+the first egg was laid, all this was changed.
+They suddenly became very shy and quiet. Had
+it not been for the new egg that was added each
+day, one would have concluded that they had
+abandoned the place. There was a precious secret
+now that must be well kept. After incubation
+began, it was only by watching that I could
+get a glimpse of one of the birds as it came
+quickly to feed or to relieve the other.</p>
+
+<p>One day a lot of Vassar girls came to visit me,
+and I led them out to the little sassafras to see
+the chickadee's nest. The sitting bird kept her
+place as head after head, with its nodding plumes
+and millinery, appeared above the opening to
+her chamber, and a pair of inquisitive eyes peered
+down upon her. But I saw that she was getting
+ready to play her little trick to frighten them
+away. Presently I heard a faint explosion at the
+bottom of the cavity, when the peeping girl
+jerked her head quickly back, with the exclamation,
+"Why, it spit at me!" The trick of the
+bird on such occasions is apparently to draw in
+its breath till its form perceptibly swells, and
+then give forth a quick, explosive sound like an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+escaping jet of steam. One involuntarily closes
+his eyes and jerks back his head. The girls, to
+their great amusement, provoked the bird into
+this pretty outburst of her impatience two or
+three times. But as the ruse failed of its effect,
+the bird did not keep it up, but let the laughing
+faces gaze till they were satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>I was much interested in seeing a brood of
+chickadees, reared on my premises, venture upon
+their first flight. Their heads had been seen at
+the door of their dwelling&mdash;a cavity in the limb
+of a pear-tree&mdash;at intervals for two or three
+days. Evidently they liked the looks of the great
+outside world; and one evening, just before sundown,
+one of them came forth. His first flight
+was of several yards, to a locust, where he alighted
+upon an inner branch, and after some chirping
+and calling proceeded to arrange his plumage
+and compose himself for the night. I watched
+him till it was nearly dark. He did not appear
+at all afraid there alone in the tree, but put his
+head under his wing and settled down for the
+night as if it were just what he had always
+been doing. There was a heavy shower a few
+hours later, but in the morning he was there upon
+his perch in good spirits.</p>
+
+<p>I happened to be passing in the morning
+when another one came out. He hopped out upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+a limb, shook himself, and chirped and called
+loudly. After some moments an idea seemed
+to strike him. His attitude changed, his form
+straightened up, and a thrill of excitement seemed
+to run through him. I knew what it all meant;
+something had whispered to the bird, "Fly!"
+With a spring and a cry he was in the air, and
+made good headway to a near hemlock. Others
+left in a similar manner during that day and the
+next, till all were out.</p>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE DOWNY WOODPECKER</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> bird that seems to consider he has the best
+right to my hospitality is the downy woodpecker,
+my favorite neighbor among the winter birds.
+His retreat is but a few paces from my own, in
+the decayed limb of an apple-tree, which he excavated
+several autumns ago. I say "he" because
+the red plume on the top of his head proclaims
+the sex. It seems not to be generally known
+to our writers upon ornithology that certain of our
+woodpeckers&mdash;probably all the winter residents&mdash;each
+fall excavate a limb or the trunk of a
+tree in which to pass the winter, and that the cavity
+is abandoned in the spring, probably for a
+new one in which nidification takes place.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 328px;">
+<img src="images/009.jpg" width="328" height="500" alt="" title="" />
+DOWNY WOODPECKER</div>
+
+<p>The particular woodpecker to which I refer
+drilled his first hole in my apple-tree one fall
+four or five years ago. This he occupied till the
+following spring, when he abandoned it. The
+next fall he began a hole in an adjoining limb,
+later than before, and when it was about half completed
+a female took possession of his old quarters.
+I am sorry to say that this seemed to enrage
+the male very much, and he persecuted the poor
+bird whenever she appeared upon the scene. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+would fly at her spitefully and drive her off.
+One chilly November morning, as I passed under
+the tree, I heard the hammer of the little
+architect in his cavity, and at the same time saw
+the persecuted female sitting at the entrance of
+the other hole as if she would fain come out.
+She was actually shivering, probably from both
+fear and cold. I understood the situation at a
+glance; the bird was afraid to come forth and
+brave the anger of the male. Not till I had
+rapped smartly upon the limb with my stick did
+she come out and attempt to escape; but she had
+not gone ten feet from the tree before the male
+was in hot pursuit, and in a few moments had
+driven her back to the same tree, where she tried
+to avoid him among the branches. There is probably
+no gallantry among the birds except at the
+mating season. I have frequently seen the male
+woodpecker drive the female away from the bone
+upon the tree. When she hopped around to the
+other end and timidly nibbled it, he would presently
+dart spitefully at her. She would then
+take up her position in his rear and wait till he
+had finished his meal. The position of the female
+among the birds is very much the same as that
+of women among savage tribes. Most of the
+drudgery of life falls upon her, and the leavings
+of the males are often her lot.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>My bird is a genuine little savage, doubtless,
+but I value him as a neighbor. It is a satisfaction
+during the cold or stormy winter nights to know
+he is warm and cozy there in his retreat. When
+the day is bad and unfit to be abroad in, he is
+there too. When I wish to know if he is at home,
+I go and rap upon his tree, and, if he is not too
+lazy or indifferent, after some delay he shows
+his head in his round doorway about ten feet
+above, and looks down inquiringly upon me&mdash;sometimes
+latterly I think half resentfully, as
+much as to say, "I would thank you not to disturb
+me so often." After sundown, he will not
+put his head out any more when I call, but
+as I step away I can get a glimpse of him inside
+looking cold and reserved. He is a late riser,
+especially if it is a cold or disagreeable morning,
+in this respect being like the barn fowls; it is
+sometimes near nine o'clock before I see him
+leave his tree. On the other hand, he comes home
+early, being in, if the day is unpleasant, by four
+<span class="smcapl">P.M.</span> He lives all alone; in this respect I do not
+commend his example. Where his mate is, I
+should like to know.</p>
+
+<p>I have discovered several other woodpeckers
+in adjoining orchards, each of which has a like
+home, and leads a like solitary life. One of them
+has excavated a dry limb within easy reach of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+my hand, doing the work also in September. But
+the choice of tree was not a good one; the limb
+was too much decayed, and the workman had
+made the cavity too large; a chip had come out,
+making a hole in the outer wall. Then he went
+a few inches down the limb and began again,
+and excavated a large, commodious chamber, but
+had again come too near the surface; scarcely
+more than the bark protected him in one place,
+and the limb was very much weakened. Then he
+made another attempt still farther down the
+limb, and drilled in an inch or two, but seemed
+to change his mind; the work stopped, and I
+concluded the bird had wisely abandoned the
+tree. Passing there one cold, rainy November
+day, I thrust in my two fingers and was surprised
+to feel something soft and warm: as I drew
+away my hand the bird came out, apparently no
+more surprised than I was. It had decided, then,
+to make its home in the old limb; a decision it
+had occasion to regret, for not long after, on a
+stormy night, the branch gave way and fell to
+the ground:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And down will come baby and cradle and all."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Another trait our woodpeckers have that endears
+them to me is their habit of drumming in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+the spring. They are songless birds, and yet all
+are musicians; they make the dry limbs eloquent
+of the coming change. Did you think that loud,
+sonorous hammering which proceeded from the
+orchard or from the near woods on that still
+March or April morning was only some bird getting
+its breakfast? It is Downy, but he is not rapping
+at the door of a grub; he is rapping at the
+door of spring, and the dry limb thrills beneath
+the ardor of his blows.</p>
+
+<p>A few seasons ago, a downy woodpecker, probably
+the individual one who is now my winter
+neighbor, began to drum early in March in a
+partly decayed apple-tree that stands in the edge
+of a narrow strip of woodland near me. When
+the morning was still and mild I would often
+hear him through my window before I was up, or
+by half-past six o'clock, and he would keep it up
+pretty briskly till nine or ten o'clock, in this respect
+resembling the grouse, which do most of
+their drumming in the forenoon. His drum was
+the stub of a dry limb about the size of one's
+wrist. The heart was decayed and gone, but the
+outer shell was hard and resonant. The bird
+would keep his position there for an hour at a
+time. Between his drummings he would preen
+his plumage and listen as if for the response of
+the female, or for the drum of some rival. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+swiftly his head would go when he was delivering
+his blows upon the limb! His beak wore the surface
+perceptibly. When he wished to change the
+key, which was quite often, he would shift his
+position an inch or two to a knot which gave
+out a higher, shriller note. When I climbed up
+to examine his drum, he was much disturbed. I
+did not know he was in the vicinity, but it seems
+he saw me from a near tree, and came in haste to
+the neighboring branches, and with spread plumage
+and a sharp note demanded plainly enough
+what my business was with his drum. I was invading
+his privacy, desecrating his shrine, and the
+bird was much put out. After some weeks the
+female appeared; he had literally drummed up a
+mate; his urgent and oft-repeated advertisement
+was answered. Still the drumming did not cease,
+but was quite as fervent as before. If a mate could
+be won by drumming, she could be kept and entertained
+by more drumming; courtship should
+not end with marriage. If the bird felt musical
+before, of course he felt much more so now.
+Besides that, the gentle deities needed propitiating
+in behalf of the nest and young as well as in
+behalf of the mate. After a time a second female
+came, when there was war between the two. I did
+not see them come to blows, but I saw one female
+pursuing the other about the place, and giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+her no rest for several days. She was evidently
+trying to run her out of the neighborhood.
+Now and then, she, too, would drum
+briefly, as if sending a triumphant message to her
+mate.</p>
+
+<p>The woodpeckers do not each have a particular
+dry limb to which they resort at all times to
+drum, like the one I have described. The woods
+are full of suitable branches, and they drum more
+or less here and there as they are in quest of
+food; yet I am convinced each one has its favorite
+spot, like the grouse, to which it resorts
+especially in the morning. The sugar-maker in
+the maple woods may notice that this sound proceeds
+from the same tree or trees about his camp
+with great regularity. A woodpecker in my vicinity
+has drummed for two seasons on a telegraph-pole,
+and he makes the wires and glass insulators
+ring. Another drums on a thin board
+on the end of a long grape-arbor, and on still
+mornings can be heard a long distance.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb1" />
+
+<p>I watch these woodpeckers daily to see if I
+can solve the mystery as to how they hop up and
+down the trunks and branches without falling
+away from them when they let go their hold.
+They come down a limb or trunk backward by a
+series of little hops, moving both feet together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+If the limb is at an angle to the tree and they
+are on the under side of it, they do not fall away
+from it to get a new hold an inch or half-inch
+farther down. They are held to it as steel to a
+magnet. Both tail and head are involved in the
+feat. At the instant of making the hop the head
+is thrown in and the tail thrown out, but the
+exact mechanics of it I cannot penetrate. Philosophers
+do not yet know how a backward-falling
+cat turns in the air, but turn she does.
+It may be that the woodpecker never quite relaxes
+his hold, though to my eye he appears to
+do so.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+<h3>THE DOWNY WOODPECKER</h3>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width: 16em;"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Downy</span> came and dwelt with me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Taught me hermit lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drilled his cell in oaken tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Near my cabin door.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Architect of his own home<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the forest dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Carving its inverted dome<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a dozy limb.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Carved it deep and shaped it true<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With his little bill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took no thought about the view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whether dale or hill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shook the chips upon the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Careless who might see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! his hatchet's muffled sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hewing in the tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Round his door as compass-mark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">True and smooth his wall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just a shadow on the bark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Points you to his hall.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Downy leads a hermit life<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All the winter through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free his days from jar and strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And his cares are few.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Waking up the frozen woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shaking down the snows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many trees of many moods<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Echo to his blows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the storms of winter rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Be it night or day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I know my little page<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sleeps the time away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Downy's stores are in the trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Egg and ant and grub;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Juicy tidbits, rich as cheese,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hid in stump and stub.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rat-tat-tat his chisel goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cutting out his prey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every boring insect knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When he comes its way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Always rapping at their doors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Never welcome he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All his kind, they vote, are bores,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whom they dread to see.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Why does Downy live alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In his snug retreat?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has he found that near the bone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is the sweetest meat?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Birdie craved another fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When the spring had come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Advertised him for a mate<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On his dry-limb drum.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Drummed her up and drew her near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the April morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till she owned him for her dear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In his state forlorn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now he shirks all family cares,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This I must confess;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite absorbed in self affairs<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the season's stress.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are neighbors well agreed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of a common lot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace and love our only creed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In this charm&egrave;d spot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+<h2>INDEX</h2>
+
+<ul><li>Blackbird, cow. See <a href="#Cowbird">Cowbird</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bluebird, arrival in spring, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>;<ul>
+<li>nest-building, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>;</li>
+<li>young and cicada, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li>
+<li>a bewildered pair, <a href="#Page_3">3-7</a>;</li>
+<li>love and rivalry, <a href="#Page_7">7-12</a>;</li>
+<li>war with house wrens, <a href="#Page_47">47-52</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><i>Bluebird, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bobolink, courtship, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;<ul>
+<li>concealment of nest, <a href="#Page_78">78-81</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><i>Bobolink, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bob-white. See <a href="#Quail">Quail</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Butcher-bird. See <a href="#Shrike">Shrike, northern</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Catbird, song of, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;<ul>
+<li>and black snake, <a href="#Page_73">73-76</a>;</li>
+<li>a coquette, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Cedar-bird, nest-building, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;<ul>
+<li>notes of, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><a name="Chewink" id="Chewink"></a>Chewink, markings of, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;<ul>
+<li>Thomas Jefferson writes to Alexander Wilson about, <a href="#Page_39">39-41</a>;</li>
+<li>inhospitality of, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Chickadee, nesting of, <a href="#Page_157">157-160</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chippy. See <a href="#Sparrow_chipping">Sparrow, chipping</a>.</li>
+
+<li><i>Coming of Ph&#339;be, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li>
+
+<li><a name="Cowbird" id="Cowbird"></a>Cowbird, notes of, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;<ul>
+<li>parasitic habits of, <a href="#Page_33">33-35</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Crow, character of, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;<ul>
+<li>manners of, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</li>
+<li>wariness of, <a href="#Page_140">140-142</a>;</li>
+<li>yearly meeting, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><i>Crow, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li><i>Downy Woodpecker, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li><a name="Flicker" id="Flicker"></a>Flicker, call of, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>;<ul>
+<li>courtship, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li>
+<li>not satisfied with being a woodpecker, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</li>
+<li>excavating a nest, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>;</li>
+<li>young, <a href="#Page_23">23-25</a>;</li>
+<li>drumming, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li><a name="Goldfinch" id="Goldfinch"></a>Goldfinch, nesting, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;<ul>
+<li>notes of, <a href="#Page_126">126-128</a>;</li>
+<li>flight of, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li>
+<li>musical festivals, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Grouse, ruffed, <a href="#Page_133">133-136</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Hawk, marsh, habits of, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>;<ul>
+<li>nest of, <a href="#Page_106">106-108</a>;</li>
+<li>young, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>;</li>
+<li>a pet young one, <a href="#Page_112">112-117</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Hawk, red-shouldered. See <a href="#Hen-hawk">Hen-hawk</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hawk, red-tailed. See <a href="#Hen-hawk">Hen-hawk</a>.</li>
+
+<li><a name="Hen-hawk" id="Hen-hawk"></a>Hen-hawk, flight of, <a href="#Page_130">130-132</a>.</li>
+
+<li>High-hole. See <a href="#Flicker">Flicker</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Jefferson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Oriole, Baltimore, nests of, <a href="#Page_91">91-94</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Oven-bird, walk of, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;<ul>
+<li>the two songs of, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li>
+<li>nest of, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Owl, screech, a brood, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>;<ul>
+<li>two owl neighbors, <a href="#Page_152">152-156</a>;</li>
+<li>a captive, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>;</li>
+<li>note of, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>;</li>
+<li>disappearing in his hole, <a href="#Page_154">154-156</a>.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Partridge, <a href="#Page_133">133-136</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></li>
+
+<li><i>Partridge, The</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ph&#339;be, arrival in spring, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;<ul>
+<li>nests of, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><i>Ph&#339;be, The Coming of</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li><a name="Quail" id="Quail"></a>Quail, on nest, <a href="#Page_109">109-111</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Robin, arrival in spring, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;<ul>
+<li>a graceful warrior, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li>
+<li>the "robin racket," <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li>
+<li>nest and young, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;</li>
+<li>boring for grubs, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li><a name="Shrike" id="Shrike"></a>Shrike, northern, <a href="#Page_147">147-150</a>;<ul>
+<li>raided by a screech owl, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Snake, black, and song sparrows, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;<ul>
+<li>and catbirds, <a href="#Page_73">73-76</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><a name="Sparrow_chipping" id="Sparrow_chipping"></a>Sparrow, chipping, trying to catch a miller, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;<ul>
+<li>feeding young robins, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Sparrow, song, unsuccessful nestings, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;<ul>
+<li>and a black snake, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li>
+<li>a risky experiment, <a href="#Page_56">56-58</a>;</li>
+<li>a bob-tailed song sparrow's nest, <a href="#Page_58">58-60</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Swallow, chimney. See <a href="#Swift">Swift, chimney</a>.</li>
+
+<li><a name="Swift" id="Swift"></a>Swift, chimney, nest of, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;<ul>
+<li>flight of, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>;</li>
+<li>young, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>;</li>
+<li>outriding the storms, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>;</li>
+<li>habits of, <a href="#Page_64">64-66</a>;</li>
+<li>great gatherings and aerial evolutions of, <a href="#Page_66">66-68</a>.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Thrasher, brown, stealthiness of, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;<ul>
+<li>nests of, <a href="#Page_42">42-46</a>;</li>
+<li>skulking, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Thrush, wood, grace and elegance of, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;<ul>
+<li>newspaper in nests, <a href="#Page_84">84-86</a>;</li>
+<li>the song and the nests, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li>
+<li>unsuccessful nestings, <a href="#Page_87">87-89</a>;</li>
+<li>song contests, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Towhee. See <a href="#Chewink">Chewink</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Warbler, black-throated blue, a successful search for the nest of, <a href="#Page_100">100-105</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Whip-poor-will, eggs of, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;<ul>
+<li>assimilative coloration of, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li>
+<li>young, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li>
+<li>gait of, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li>
+<li>song of, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>;</li>
+<li>an old bird with her young, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Wilson, Alexander, <a href="#Page_39">39-41</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Woodpecker, downy, a winter neighbor, <a href="#Page_161">161-164</a>;<ul>
+<li>drumming, <a href="#Page_164">164-167</a>;</li>
+<li>the mystery of his hopping up and down the trunks and branches, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li><i>Woodpecker, The Downy</i>, poem, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Woodpecker, golden-winged. See <a href="#Flicker">Flicker</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wren, house, song of, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;<ul>
+<li>war with bluebirds, <a href="#Page_47">47-52</a>.</li></ul></li>
+
+<li>Wren, winter, in his summer home, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;<ul>
+<li>in winter, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li></ul></li>
+</ul>
+
+<ul><li>Yarup. See <a href="#Flicker">Flicker</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Yellowbird. See <a href="#Goldfinch">Goldfinch</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Bird Stories from Burroughs, by John Burroughs
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+</pre>
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+</body>
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