diff options
Diffstat (limited to '27902-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 27902-h/27902-h.htm | 7559 |
1 files changed, 7559 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/27902-h/27902-h.htm b/27902-h/27902-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..749a002 --- /dev/null +++ b/27902-h/27902-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7559 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Bird-lover In The West, by Olive Thorne Miller. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h5,h6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + h3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* centered and coloured */ + } + h4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + ul {list-style-type: none} /* no bullets on lists */ + ul.nest {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em; text-indent: -1.5em;} /* spacing for nested list */ + li {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em;} /* spacing for list */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} /* small caps, smaller font size */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .tdr {text-align: right;} /* right align cell */ + .tdc {text-align: center;} /* center align cell */ + .tdl {text-align: left;} /* left align cell */ + .tr {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */ + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers */ + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 90%;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right; font-size: 90%;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-top; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.pn { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers in poems */ + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bird-Lover in the West, by +Olive Thorne Miller and Harriet Mann Miller + +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: A Bird-Lover in the West + +Author: Olive Thorne Miller + Harriet Mann Miller + +Release Date: January 27, 2009 [EBook #27902] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hope, Barbara Kosker, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h1> A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST</h1> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4> BY</h4> + +<h2> OLIVE THORNE MILLER</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h5>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> + HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY<br /> + The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> + 1900</h5> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<h5>Copyright, 1894,<br /> +By H. M. MILLER.<br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved.</i></h5> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h5><i>The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.</i><br /> +Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.</h5> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<h2>INTRODUCTORY.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The studies in this volume were all made, as the title indicates, in the +West; part of them in Colorado (1891), in Utah (1893), and the remainder +(1892) in what I have called "The Middle Country," being Southern Ohio, +and West only relatively to New England and New York, where most of my +studies have been made.</p> + +<p>Several chapters have appeared in the "Atlantic Monthly" and other +magazines, and in the "Independent" and "Harper's Bazar," while others +are now for the first time published.</p> + + +<p class="right">OLIVE THORNE MILLER.</p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="4">IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" width="8%"> </td> + <td class="tdl" width="5%"> </td> + <td class="tdl" width="79%"> </td> + <td class="tdr" width="8%"><span style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#I">I.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Camping in Colorado</span></td> + <td class="tdr">3</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#II">II.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">In the Cottonwoods</span></td> + <td class="tdr">17</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Western wood-pewee. <i>Contopus richardsonii.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Western house wren. <i>Troglodytes aëdon aztecus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Towhee. <i>Pipilo erythrophthalmus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#III">III.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">An Uproar of Song</span></td> + <td class="tdr">32</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Western meadow-lark. <i>Sturnella magna neglecta.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Horned lark. <i>Otocoris alpestris leucolæma.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Yellow warbler. <i>Dendroica æstiva.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Western wood-pewee. <i>Contopus richardsonii.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Humming-bird. <i> Trochilus colubris.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Long-tailed chat. <i>Icteria virens longicauda.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Tragedy of a Nest</span></td> + <td class="tdr">42</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Long-tailed chat. <i>Icteria virens longicauda.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#V">V.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Feast of Flowers</span></td> + <td class="tdr">52</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Cinderella among Flowers</span></td> + <td class="tdr">60</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Cliff-Dwellers in the Cañon</span></td> + <td class="tdr">70</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Cañon wren. <i>Catherpes mexicanus conspersus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">American dipper. <i>Cinclus mexicanus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="4"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="4">IN THE MIDDLE COUNTRY.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">At Four O'Clock in the Morning</span></td> + <td class="tdr">95</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Purple grackle. <i>Quiscalus quiscula.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Mourning dove. <i>Zenaidura macroura.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Red-headed woodpecker. <i>Melanerpes erythrocephalus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Blue jay. <i>Cyanocitta cristata.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Cardinal grosbeak. <i>Cardinalis cardinalis.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">American robin. <i>Merula migratoria.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Golden-wing woodpecker. <i>Colaptes auratus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">House sparrow. <i>Passer domesticus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Little Redbirds</span></td> + <td class="tdr">113</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Cardinal grosbeak. <i>Cardinalis cardinalis.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">House sparrow. <i>Passer domesticus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#X">X.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Cardinal's Nest</span></td> + <td class="tdr">119</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Cardinal grosbeak. <i>Cardinalis cardinalis.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Bobolink. <i>Dolichonyx oryzivorus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Meadow-lark. <i>Sturnella magna.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Little Boy Blue</span></td> + <td class="tdr">126</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Blue jay. <i>Cyanocitta cristata.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Story of the Nestlings</span></td> + <td class="tdr">136</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Blue jay. <i>Cyanocitta cristata.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Blue Jay Manners</span></td> + <td class="tdr">144</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Blue jay. <i>Cyanocitta cristata.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Great Carolinian</span></td> + <td class="tdr">154</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Great Carolina wren. <i>Thryothorus ludovicianus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Yellow-billed cuckoo. <i>Coccyzus americanus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Crested flycathcer. <i>Myiarchus crinitus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Wrenlings Appear</span></td> + <td class="tdr">172</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></td> + <td class="tdl">Great Carolina wren. <i>Thryothorus ludovicianus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Apple-tree Nest</span></td> + <td class="tdr">183</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Orchard oriole. <i>Icterus spurius.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Cedar-tree Little Folk</span></td> + <td class="tdr">194</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Mourning dove. <i>Zenaidura macroura.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="4"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" colspan="4">BESIDE THE GREAT SALT LAKE.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">In a Pasture</span></td> + <td class="tdr">207</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Louisiana tanager <i>Piranga ludoviciana.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Green-tailed towhee. <i>Pipilo chlorurus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Magppie. <i>Pica pica hudsonica.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">The Secret of the Wild Rose Path</span></td> + <td class="tdr">231</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Long-tailed chat. <i>Icteria virens longicauda.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Western robin. <i>Merula migratoria propinqua.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Black-headed grosbeak. <i>Habia melanocephala.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 0.5em;"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">On the Lawn</span></td> + <td class="tdr">259</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Lazuli-painted finch. <i>Passerina amœna.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">Broad-tailed humming-bird. <i>Trochilus platycercus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap"> </span></td> + <td class="tdl">House sparrow. <i>Passer domesticus.</i></td> + <td class="tdr"> </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> +<a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a><br /> +<h2>IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Trust me, 't is something to be cast</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Face to face with one's self at last,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">To be taken out of the fuss and strife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">The endless clatter of plate and knife,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">The bore of books, and the bores of the street,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">From the singular mess we agree to call Life.</span></p><br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">And to be set down on one's own two feet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">So nigh to the great warm heart of God,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">You almost seem to feel it beat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Down from the sunshine and up from the sod;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">To be compelled, as it were, to notice</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">All the beautiful changes and chances</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Through which the landscape flits and glances,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And to see how the face of common day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Is written all over with tender histories.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">James Russell Lowell.</span></p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST.</h2> +<br /> +<br /><a name="I" id="I"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /> +<br /> +<h2>I.</h2> + +<h2>CAMPING IN COLORADO.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>This chronicle of happy summer days with the birds and the flowers, at +the foot of the Rocky Mountains, begins in the month of May, in the year +eighteen hundred and ninety-two.</p> + +<p>As my train rolled quietly out of Jersey City late at night, I uttered a +sigh of gratitude that I was really off; that at last I could rest. Up +to the final moment I had been hurried and worried, but the instant I +was alone, with my "section" to myself, I "took myself in hand," as is +my custom.</p> + +<p>At the risk of seeming to stray very far from my subject, I want at this +point to say something about rest, the greatly desired state that all +busy workers are seeking, with such varying success.</p> + +<p>A really re-creative recreation I sought for years, and</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"I've found some wisdom in my quest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.7em;">That's richly worth retailing,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>and that cannot be too often repeated, or too urgently insisted upon. +What is imperatively needed, the sole and simple secret of rest, is +this: To go to our blessed mother Nature, and to go with the whole +being, mind and heart as well as body. To deposit one's physical frame +in the most secret and sacred "garden of delights," and at the same time +allow the mind to be filled, and the thoughts to be occupied, with the +concerns of the world we live in year after year, is utterly useless; +for it is not the external, but the internal man that needs recreation; +it is not the body, but the spirit that demands refreshment and relief +from the wearing cares of our high-pressure lives. "It is of no use," +says a thoughtful writer, "to carry my body to the woods, unless I get +there myself."</p> + +<p>Let us consult the poets, our inspired teachers, on this subject. Says +Lowell,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"In June 't is good to lie beneath a tree</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">While the blithe season comforts every sense,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Steeps all the brain in rest, and heals the heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Brimming it o'er with sweetness unawares,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Fragrant and silent as that rosy snow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Wherewith the pitying apple-tree fills up</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">And tenderly lines some last-year's robin's nest."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And our wise Emerson, in his strong and wholesome, if sometimes rugged +way,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"Quit thy friends as the dead in doom,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">And build to them a final tomb.</span></p><br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Behind thee leave thy merchandise,</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Thy churches and thy charities.</span></p><br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Enough for thee the primal mind</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">That flows in streams—that breathes in wind."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Even the gentle Wordsworth, too; read his exquisite sonnet, beginning,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"The world is too much with us; late and soon,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>All recognize that it is a mental and spiritual change that is needed.</p> + +<p>With the earnest desire of suggesting to tired souls a practicable way +of resting, I will even give a bit of personal history; I will tell the +way in which I have learned to find recreation in nature.</p> + +<p>When I turn my back upon my home, I make a serious and determined effort +to leave behind me all cares and worries. As my train, on that beautiful +May evening, passed beyond the brick and stone walls, and sped into the +open country, and I found myself alone with night, I shook off, as well +as I was able, all my affairs, all my interests, all my +responsibilities, leaving them in that busy city behind me, where a few +burdens more or less would not matter to anybody. With my trunks +checked, and my face turned toward the far-off Rocky Mountains, I left +the whole work-a-day world behind me, departing—so far as possible—a +liberated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>soul, with no duties excepting to rejoice and to recruit. +This is not an easy thing to do; it is like tearing apart one's very +life; but it can be done by earnest endeavor, it has been done, and it +is a charm more potent than magic to bring restoration and recreation to +the brain and nerve-weary worker.</p> + +<p>To insure any measure of success I always go alone; one familiar face +would make the effort of no avail; and I seek a place where I am a +stranger, so that my ordinary life cannot be recalled to me. When I +reach my temporary home I forget, or at least ignore, my notions as to +what I shall eat or drink, or how I shall sleep. I take the goods the +gods provide, and adjust myself to them. Even these little things help +one out of his old ways of thought and life. To still further banish +home concerns, I mark upon my calendar one week before the day I shall +start for home, and sternly resolve that not until I reach that day will +I give one thought to my return, but will live as though I meant to stay +always. I take no work of any sort, and I banish books, excepting a few +poets and studies of nature.</p> + +<p>Such is the aim of my honest and earnest striving; that I do not quite +reach my goal is merely to say I am human. Letters from home and friends +will drag me back to old interests, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>and times will come, in sleepless +nights and unguarded moments, when the whole world of old burdens and +cares sweep in and overwhelm me. But I rouse my will, and resolutely, +with all my power, push them back, refuse to entertain them for a +moment.</p> + +<p>The result, even under these limitations, is eminently satisfactory. +Holding myself in this attitude of mind, I secure a change almost as +complete as if I stepped out of my body and left it resting, while I +refreshed myself at the fountain of life. A few weeks in the country +make me a new being; all my thoughts are turned into fresh channels; the +old ruts are smoothed over, if not obliterated; nerves on the strain all +the year have a chance to recreate themselves; old worries often weaken +and fade away.</p> + +<p>The morning after I left home that balmy evening in May dawned upon me +somewhere in western New York, and that beautiful day was passed in +speeding through the country, and steadily getting farther and farther +from work and care.</p> + +<p>And so I went on, day after day, night after night, till I entered +Kansas, which was new to me. By that time I had succeeded in banishing +to the farthest corner of my memory, behind closed and locked doors, all +the anxieties, all the perplexities and problems, all the concerns, in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>fact, of my home life. I was like a newly created soul, fresh and eager +to see and enjoy everything. I refused the morning papers; I wished to +forget the world of strife and crime, and to get so into harmony with +the trees and flowers, the brooks and the breezes, that I would realize +myself</p> + +<p class="cen"> +"Kith and kin to every wild-born thing that thrills and blows." +</p> + +<p>In one word, I wished as nearly as possible to walk abroad out of my +hindering body of clay.</p> + +<p>I looked out of the windows to see what the Cyclone State had to give +me. It offered flowers and singing birds, broad fields of growing grain, +and acres of rich black soil newly turned up to the sun. Everything was +fresh and perfect, as if just from the hands of its maker; it seemed the +paradise of the farmer.</p> + +<p>From the fertile fields and miles of flowers the train passed to bare, +blossomless earth; from rich soil to rocks; from Kansas to Colorado. +That part of the State which appeared in the morning looked like a vast +body of hardly dry mud, with nothing worth mentioning growing upon it. +Each little gutter had worn for itself a deep channel with precipitous +sides, and here and there a great section had sunken, as though there +was no solid foundation. Soon, however, the land showed inclination to +draw itself up into hills, tiny ones with sharp peaks, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>as though +preparing for mountains. Before long they retreated to a distance and +grew bigger, and at last, far off, appeared the mountains, overtopping +all one great white peak, the</p> + +<p class="cen"> +"Giver of gold, king of eternal hills." +</p> + +<p>A welcome awaited me in the summer home of a friend at Colorado Springs, +in the presence of the great Cheyenne Range, with the snow-cap of Pike's +Peak ever before me. Four delightful days I gave to friendship, and then +I sought and found a perfect nook for rest and study, in a cottonwood +grove on the banks of the Minnelowan (or Shining Water). This is a mad +Colorado stream which is formed by the junction of the North and South +Cheyenne Cañon brooks, and comes tumbling down from the Cheyenne, +rushing and roaring as if it had the business of the world on its +shoulders, and must do it man-fashion, with confusion and noise enough +to drown all other sounds.</p> + +<p>Imagine a pretty, one-story cottage, set down in a grove of +cottonwood-trees, with a gnarly oak and a tall pine here and there, to +give it character, and surrounded as a hen by her chickens, by tents, +six or eight in every conceivable position, and at every possible angle +except a right angle. Add to this picture the sweet voices of birds, and +the music of water rushing and hurrying over the stones; let your +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>glance take in on one side the grand outlines of Cheyenne Mountain,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Made doubly sacred by the poet's pen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">And poet's grave,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and on the other the rest of the range, overlooked by Pike's Peak, +fourteen thousand feet higher than the streets of New York. Do this, and +you will come as near to realizing Camp Harding as one can who is +hundreds of miles away and has never seen a Colorado camp.</p> + +<p>Do not think, however, that such camps are common, even in that land of +outdoors, where tents are open for business in the streets of the towns, +and where every householder sets up his own canvas in his yard, for the +invalids to sleep in, from June to November. The little settlement of +tents was an evolution, the gradual growth of the tent idea in the mind +of one comfort-loving woman. She went there seven or eight years before, +bought a grove under the shadow of Cheyenne, put up a tent, and passed +her first summer thus. The next year, and several years thereafter, she +gradually improved her transient abode in many ways that her womanly +taste suggested,—as a wooden floor, a high base-board, partitions of +muslin or cretonne, door and windows of wire gauze. The original +dwelling thus step by step grew to a framed and rough-plastered house, +with doors and windows <i>en règle</i>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>Grouped picturesquely around the house, however, were some of the most +unique abiding-places in Colorado. On the outside they were permanent +tents with wooden foundations; on the inside they were models of +comfort, with regular beds and furniture, rugs on the floor, gauzy +window curtains, drapery wardrobes, and even tiny stoves for cool +mornings and evenings. They combined the comforts of a house with the +open air and delightful freshness of a tent, where one might hear every +bird twitter, and see the dancing leaf shadows in the moonlight. Over +the front platform the canvas cover extended to form an awning, and a +wire-gauze door, in addition to one of wood, made them airy or snug as +the weather demanded.</p> + +<p>The restfulness craved by the weary worker was there to be had for both +soul and body, if one chose to take it. One might swing in a hammock all +day, and be happy watching "the clouds that cruise the sultry sky"—a +sky so blue one never tires of it; or beside the brook he might "lie +upon its banks, and dream himself away to some enchanted ground." Or he +might study the ever-changing aspect of the mountains,—their dreamy, +veiled appearance, with the morning sun full upon them; their deep +violet blueness in the evening, with the sun behind them, and the +mystery of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>moonlight, which "sets them far off in a world of their +own," as tender and unreal as mountains in a dream.</p> + +<p>He <i>might</i> do all these things, but he is far more likely to become +excited, and finally bewitched by guide-books, and photographs, and talk +all about him of this or that cañon, this or that pass, the Garden of +the Gods, Manitou, the Seven Sisters' Falls, the grave of "H. H.;" and +unless a fool or a philosopher, before he knows it to be in the full +swing of sight-seeing, and becoming learned in the ways of burros, the +"Ship of the Rockies," so indispensable, and so common that even the +babies take to them.</p> + +<p>This traveler will climb peaks, and drive over nerve-shaking roads, a +steep wall on one side and a frightful precipice on the other; he will +toil up hundreds of steps, and go quaking down into mines; he will look, +and admire, and tremble, till sentiment is worn to threads, purse +depleted, and body and mind alike a wreck. For this sort of a traveler +there is no rest in Colorado; there always remains another mountain to +thrill him, another cañon to rhapsodize over; to one who is greedy of +"sights," the tameness of Harlem, or the mud flats of Canarsie, will +afford more rest.</p> + +<p>For myself I can always bear to be near <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>sights without seeing them. I +believed what I heard—never were such grand mountains! never such +soul-stirring views! never such hairbreadth roads! I believed—and +stayed in my cottonwood grove content. I knew how it all looked; did I +not peer down into one cañon, holding my breath the while? and, with +slightly differing arrangement of rocks and pine-trees and brooks, are +not all cañons the same? Did I not gaze with awe at the "trail to the +grave of H. H.," and watch, without envy, the sight-seeing tourist +struggle with its difficulties? Could I not supply myself with +photographs, and guide-books, and poems, and "H. H.'s" glowing words, +and picture the whole scene? I could, I did, and to me Colorado was a +delightful place of rest, with mountain air that it was a luxury to +breathe (after the machinery adjusted itself to the altitude), with +glorious sunshine every morning, with unequaled nights of coolness, and +a new flower or two for every day of the month.</p> + +<p>If to "see Colorado" one must ascend every peak, toil through every +cañon, cast the eyes on every waterfall, shudder over each precipice, +wonder at each eccentric rock, drink from every spring, then I have not +seen America's Wonderland. But if to steep my spirit in the beauty of +its mountains so that they shall henceforth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>be a part of me; to inhale +its enchanting air till my body itself seemed to have wings; if to paint +in my memory its gorgeous procession of flowers, its broad mesa crowned +with the royal blossoms of the yucca, its cosy cottonwood groves, its +brooks rushing between banks of tangled greenery; if this is to "see +Colorado," then no one has ever seen it more thoroughly.</p> + +<p>The "symphony in yellow and red," which "H. H." calls this wonderland, +grows upon the sojourner in some mysterious way, till by the time he has +seen the waxing and waning of one moon he is an enthusiast. It is +charming alike to the sight-seer whose jaded faculties pine for new and +thrilling emotions, to the weary in brain and body who longs only for +peace and rest, and to the invalid whose every breath is a pain at home. +To the lover of flowers it is an exhaustless panorama of beauty and +fragrance, well worth crossing the continent to enjoy; to the mountain +lover it offers endless attractions.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more fascinating to the stranger in Colorado than the +formation of its cañons, not only the grand ones running up into the +heart of the mountains, but the lesser ones cutting into the high +table-land, or mesa, at the foot of the hills. The above mentioned +cottonwood grove, for example, with its dozen of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>dwellings and a +natural park of a good many acres above it, with tall pines that bear +the marks of age, is so curiously hidden that one may come almost upon +it without seeing it. It is reached from Colorado Springs by an electric +road which runs along the mesa south of the town. As the car nears the +end of the line, one begins to look around for the grove. Not a tree is +in sight; right and left as far as can be seen stretches the treeless +plain to the foot of the eternal hills; not even the top of a tall pine +thrusts itself above the dead level. Before you is Cheyenne—grim, +glorious, but impenetrable. The conductor stops. "This is your place," +he says. You see no place; you think he must be mistaken.</p> + +<p>"But where is Camp Harding?" you ask. He points to an obscure +path—"trail" he calls it—which seems to throw itself over an edge. You +approach that point, and there, to your wonder and your surprise, at +your feet nestles the loveliest of smiling cañon-like valleys, filled +with trees, aspen, oak, and pine, with here and there a tent or red roof +gleaming through the green, and a noisy brook hurrying on its way +downhill. By a steep scramble you reach the lower level, birds singing, +flowers tempting on every side, and the picturesque, narrow trail +leading you on, around the ledge of rock, over <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>the rustic bridge, till +you reach the back entrance of the camp. Before it, up the narrow +valley, winds a road, the carriage-way to the Cheyenne cañons.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="II" id="II"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<h2>IN THE COTTONWOODS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>A cottonwood grove is the nearest approach to our Eastern rural +districts to be found in Colorado, and a cotton storm, looking exactly +like a snowstorm, is a common sight in these groves. The white, fluffy +material grows in long bunches, loosely attached to stems, and the fibre +is very short. At the lightest breeze that stirs the branches, tiny bits +of it take to flight, and one tree will shed cotton for weeks. It clings +to one's garments; it gets into the houses, and sticks to the carpets, +often showing a trail of white footprints where a person has come in; it +clogs the wire-gauze screens till they keep out the air as well as the +flies; it fills the noses and the eyes of men and beasts. But its most +curious effect is on the plants and flowers, to which it adheres, being +a little gummy. Some flowers look as if they were encased in ice, and +others seem wrapped in the gauziest of veils, which, flimsy as it looks, +cannot be completely cleared from the leaves.</p> + +<p>It covers the ground like snow, and strangely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>enough it looks in June, +but it does not, like snow, melt, even under the warm summer sunshine. +It must be swept from garden and walks, and carted away. A heavy rain +clears the air and subdues it for a time, but the sun soon dries the +bunches still on the trees, and the cotton storm is again in full blast. +This annoyance lasts through June and a part of July, fully six weeks, +and then the stems themselves drop to, the ground, still holding enough +cotton to keep up the storm for days. After this, the first rainfall +ends the trouble for that season.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the cottonwoods, in beautiful Camp Harding, I spent the +June that followed the journey described in the last chapter,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"Dreaming sweet, idle dreams of having strayed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">To Arcady with all its golden lore."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The birds, of course, were my first concern. Ask of almost any resident +not an ornithologist if there are birds in Colorado, and he will shake +his head.</p> + +<p>"Not many, I think," he will probably say. "Camp birds and magpies. Oh +yes, and larks. I think that's about all."</p> + +<p>This opinion, oft repeated, did not settle the matter in my mind, for I +long ago discovered that none are so ignorant of the birds and flowers +of a neighborhood as most of the people who live among them. I sought +out my post, and I looked for myself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>There are birds in the State, plenty of them, but they are not on +exhibition like the mountains and their wonders. No driver knows the way +to their haunts, and no guide-book points them out. Even a bird student +may travel a day's journey, and not encounter so many as one shall see +in a small orchard in New England. He may rise with the dawn, and hear +nothing like the glorious morning chorus that stirs one in the Atlantic +States. He may search the trees and shrubberies for long June days, and +not find so many nests as will cluster about one cottage at home.</p> + +<p>Yet the birds are here, but they are shy, and they possess the true +Colorado spirit,—they are mountain-worshipers. As the time approaches +when each bird leaves society and retires for a season to the bosom of +its own family, many of the feathered residents of the State bethink +them of their inaccessible cañons. The saucy jay abandons the +settlements where he has been so familiar as to dispute with the dogs +for their food, and sets up his homestead in a tall pine-tree on a slope +which to look at is to grow dizzy; the magpie, boldest of birds, steals +away to some secure retreat; the meadow-lark makes her nest in the +monotonous mesa, where it is as well hidden as a bobolink's nest in a +New England meadow.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>The difficulties in the way of studying Colorado birds are several, +aside from their excessive suspicion of every human being. In the first +place, observations must be made before ten o'clock, for at that hour +every day a lively breeze, which often amounts to a gale, springs up, +and sets the cottonwood and aspen leaves in a flutter that hides the +movements of any bird. Then, all through the most interesting month of +June the cottonwood-trees are shedding their cotton, and to a person on +the watch for slight stirrings among the leaves the falling cotton is a +constant distraction. The butterflies, too, wandering about in their +aimless way, are all the time deceiving the bird student, and drawing +attention from the bird he is watching.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, one of the maddening pests of bird study at the East +is here almost unknown,—the mosquito. Until the third week in June I +saw but one. That one was in the habit of lying in wait for me when I +went to a piece of low, swampy ground overgrown with bushes. Think of +the opportunity this combination offers to the Eastern mosquito, and +consider my emotions when I found but a solitary individual, and even +that one disposed to coquette with me.</p> + +<p>I had hidden myself, and was keeping motionless, in order to see the +very shy owners of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>nest I had found, when the lonely mosquito came as +far as the rim of my shade hat, and hovered there, evidently meditating +an attack—a mosquito hesitating! I could not stir a hand, or even shake +my leafy twig; but it did not require such violent measures; a light +puff of breath this side or that was enough to discourage the gentle +creature, and in all the hours I sat there it never once came any +nearer. The race increased, however, and became rather troublesome on +the veranda after tea; but in the grove they were never annoying; I +rarely saw half a dozen. When I remember the tortures endured in the +dear old woods of the East, in spite of "lollicopop" and pennyroyal, and +other horrors with which I have tried to repel them, I could almost +decide to live and die in Colorado.</p> + +<p>The morning bird chorus in the cottonwood grove where I spent my June +was a great shock to me. If my tent had been pitched near the broad +plains in which the meadow-lark delights, I might have wakened to the +glorious song of this bird of the West. It is not a chorus, indeed, for +one rarely hears more than a single performer, but it is a solo that +fully makes up for want of numbers, and amply satisfies the lover of +bird music, so strong, so sweet, so moving are his notes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>But on my first morning in the grove, what was my dismay—I may almost +say despair—to find that the Western wood-pewee led the matins! Now, +this bird has a peculiar voice. It is loud, pervasive, and in quality of +tone not unlike our Eastern phœbe, lacking entirely the sweet +plaintiveness of our wood-pewee. A pewee chorus is a droll and dismal +affair. The poor things do their best, no doubt, and they cannot prevent +the pessimistic effect it has upon us. It is rhythmic, but not in the +least musical, and it has a weird power over the listener. This morning +hymn does not say, as does the robin's, that life is cheerful, that +another glorious day is dawning. It says, "Rest is over; another day of +toil is here; come to work." It is monotonous as a frog chorus, but +there is a merry thrill in the notes of the amphibian which are entirely +wanting in the song. If it were not for the light-hearted tremolo of the +chewink thrown in now and then, and the loud, cheery ditty of the summer +yellow-bird, who begins soon after the pewee, one would be almost +superstitious about so unnatural a greeting to the new day. The evening +call of the bird is different. He will sit far up on a dead twig of an +old pine-tree, and utter a series of four notes, something like "do, mi, +mi, do," repeating them without pausing till it is too dark to see him, +all the time <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>getting lower, sadder, more deliberate, till one feels +like running out and committing suicide or annihilating the bird of +ill-omen.</p> + +<p>I felt myself a stranger indeed when I reached this pleasant spot, and +found that even the birds were unfamiliar. No robin or bluebird greeted +me on my arrival; no cheerful song-sparrow tuned his little pipe for my +benefit; no phœbe shouted the beloved name from the peak of the barn. +Everything was strange. One accustomed to the birds of our Eastern +States can hardly conceive of the country without robins in plenty; but +in this unnatural corner of Uncle Sam's dominion I found but one pair.</p> + +<p>The most common song from morning till night was that of the summer +yellow-bird, or yellow warbler. It was not the delicate little strain we +are accustomed to hear from this bird, but a loud, clear carol, equal in +volume to the notes of our robin. These three birds, with the addition +of a vireo or two, were our main dependence for daily music, though we +were favored occasionally by others. Now the Arkansas goldfinch uttered +his sweet notes from the thick foliage of the cottonwood-trees; then the +charming aria of the catbird came softly from the tangle of rose and +other bushes; the black-headed grosbeak now and then saluted us from the +top of a pine-tree; and rarely, too rarely, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>alas! a passing meadow-lark +filled all the grove with his wonderful song.</p> + +<p>And there was the wren! He interested me from the first; for a wren is a +bird of individuality always, and his voice reminded me, in a feeble +way, of the witching notes of the winter wren, the</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"Brown wren from out whose swelling throat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Unstinted joys of music float."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>This bird was the house wren, the humblest member of his musical family; +but there was in his simple melody the wren quality, suggestive of the +thrilling performances of his more gifted relatives; and I found it and +him very pleasing.</p> + +<p>The chosen place for his vocal display was a pile of brush beside a +closed-up little cottage, and I suspected him of having designs upon +that two-roomed mansion for nesting purposes. After hopping all about +the loose sticks, delivering his bit of an aria a dozen times or more, +in a most rapturous way, he would suddenly dive into certain secret +passages among the dead branches, when he was instantly lost to sight. +Then, in a few seconds, a close watcher might sometimes see him pass +like a shadow, under the cottage, which stood up on corner posts, dart +out the farther side, and fly at once to the eaves.</p> + +<p>One day I was drawn from the house by a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>low and oft-repeated cry, like +"Hear, hear, hear!" It was emphatic and imperative, as if some +unfortunate little body had the business of the world on his shoulders, +and could not get it done to his mind. I carefully approached the +disturbed voice, and was surprised to find it belonged to the wren, who +was so disconcerted at sight of me, that I concluded this particular +sort of utterance must be for the benefit of his family alone. Later, +that kind of talk, his lord-and-master style as I supposed, was the most +common sound I heard from him, and not near the cottage and the brush +heap, but across the brook. I thought that perhaps I had displeased him +by too close surveillance, and he had set up housekeeping out of my +reach. Across the brook I could not go, for between "our side" and the +other raged a feud, which had culminated in torn-up bridges and barbed +wire protections.</p> + +<p>One day, however, I had a surprise. In studying another bird, I was led +around to the back of the still shut-up cottage, and there I found, very +unexpectedly, an exceedingly busy and silent wren. He did sing +occasionally while I watched him from afar, but in so low a tone that it +could not be heard a few steps away. Of course I understood this +unnatural circumspection, and on observing him cautiously, I saw that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>he made frequent visits to the eaves of the cottage, the very spot I +had hoped he would nest. Then I noted that he carried in food, and on +coming out he alighted on a dead bush, and sang under his breath. Here, +then, was the nest, and all his pretense of scolding across the brook +was but a blind! Wary little rogue! Who would ever suspect a house wren +of shyness?</p> + +<p>I had evidently done him injustice when I regarded the scolding as his +family manner, for here in his home he was quiet as a mouse, except when +his joy bubbled over in trills.</p> + +<p>To make sure of my conclusions I went close to the house, and then for +the first time (to know it) I saw his mate. She came with food in her +beak, and was greatly disturbed at sight of her uninvited guest. She +stood on a shrub near me fluttering her wings, and there her anxious +spouse joined her, and fluttered his in the same way, uttering at the +same time a low, single note of protest.</p> + +<p>On looking in through the window, I found that the cottage was a mere +shell, all open under the eaves, so that the birds could go in and out +anywhere. The nest was over the top of a window, and the owner thereof +ran along the beam beside it, in great dudgeon at my impertinent +staring. Had ever a pair of wrens quarters so ample,—a whole cottage to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>themselves? Henceforth, it was part of my daily rounds to peep in at +the window, though I am sorry to say it aroused the indignation of the +birds, and always brought them to the beam nearest me, to give me a +piece of their mind.</p> + +<p>Bird babies grow apace, and baby wrens have not many inches to achieve. +One day I came upon a scene of wild excitement: two wrenlings flying +madly about in the cottage, now plump against the window, then tumbling +breathless to the floor, and two anxious little parents, trying in vain +to show their headstrong offspring the way they should go, to the +openings under the eaves which led to the great out-of-doors. My face at +the window seemed to be the "last straw." A much-distressed bird came +boldly up to me behind the glass, saying by his manner—and who knows +but in words?—"How can you be so cruel as to disturb us? Don't you see +the trouble we are in?" He had no need of Anglo-Saxon (or even of +American-English!). I understood him at once; and though exceedingly +curious to see how they would do it, I had not the heart to insist. I +left them to manage their willful little folk in their own way.</p> + +<p>The next morning I was awakened by the jolliest wren music of the +season. Over and over the bird poured out his few notes, louder, madder, +more rapturously than I had supposed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>he could. He had guided his family +safely out of their imprisoning four walls, I was sure. And so I found +it when I went out. Not a wren to be seen about the house, but soft +little "churs" coming from here and there among the shrubbery, and every +few minutes a loud, happy song proclaimed that wren troubles were over +for the summer. Far in among the tangle of bushes and vines, I came upon +him, as gay as he had been of yore:—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"Pausing and peering, with sidling head,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">As saucily questioning all I said;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">While the ox-eye danced on its slender stem,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">And all glad Nature rejoiced with them."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The chewink is a curious exchange for the robin. When I noticed the +absence of the red-breast, whom—like the poor—we have always with us +(at the East), I was pleased, in spite of my fondness for him, because, +as every one must allow, he is sometimes officious in his attentions, +and not at all reticent in expressing his opinions. I did miss his voice +in the morning chorus,—the one who lived in the grove was not much of a +singer,—but I was glad to know the chewink, who was almost a stranger. +His peculiar trilling song was heard from morning till night; he came +familiarly about the camp, eating from the dog's dish, and foraging for +crumbs at the kitchen door. Next to the wood-pewee, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>he was the most +friendly of our feathered neighbors.</p> + +<p>He might be seen at any time, hopping about on the ground, one moment +picking up a morsel of food, and the next throwing up his head and +bursting into song:—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"But not for you his little singing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Soul of fire its flame is flinging,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Sings he for himself alone,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">as was evident from the unconscious manner in which he uttered his notes +between two mouthfuls, never mounting a twig or making a "performance" +of his music. I have watched one an hour at a time, going about in his +jerky fashion, tearing up the ground and searching therein, exactly +after the manner of a scratching hen. This, by the way, was a droll +operation, done with both feet together, a jump forward and a jerk back +of the whole body, so rapidly one could hardly follow the motion, but +throwing up a shower of dirt every time. He had neither the grace nor +the dignity of our domestic biddy.</p> + +<p>Matter of fact as this fussy little personage was on the ground, taking +in his breakfast and giving out his song, he was a different bird when +he got above it. Alighting on the wren's brush heap, for instance, he +would bristle up, raising the feathers on head and neck, his red <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>eyes +glowing eagerly, his tail a little spread and standing up at a sharp +angle, prepared for instant fight or flight, whichever seemed desirable.</p> + +<p>I was amused to hear the husky cry with which this bird expresses most +of his emotions,—about as nearly a "mew," to my ears, as the catbird +executes. Whether frolicking with a comrade among the bushes, reproving +a too inquisitive bird student, or warning the neighborhood against some +monster like a stray kitten, this one cry seemed to answer for all his +needs, and, excepting the song, was the only sound I heard him utter.</p> + +<p>Familiar as the chewink might be about our quarters, his own home was +well hidden, on the rising ground leading up to the mesa,—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"An unkempt zone,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Where vines and weeds and scrub oaks intertwine,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">which no one bigger than a bird could penetrate. Whenever I appeared in +that neighborhood, I was watched and followed by anxious and disturbed +chewinks; but I never found a nest, though, judging from the conduct of +the residents, I was frequently "very warm" (as the children say).</p> + +<p>About the time the purple aster began to unclose its fringed lids, and +the mariposa lily to unfold its delicate cups on the lower +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>mesa,—nearly the middle of July,—full-grown chewink babies, in brown +coats and streaked vests, made their appearance in the grove, and after +that the whole world might search the scrub oaks and not a bird would +say him nay.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 19.0em;">"All is silent now</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Save bell-note from some wandering cow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Or rippling lark-song far away."</span><br /> +</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="III" id="III"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<h2>AN UPROAR OF SONG.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The bird music of Colorado, though not so abundant as one could wish, is +singularly rich in quality, and remarkable for its volume. At the +threshold of the State the traveler is struck by this peculiarity. As +the train thunders by, the Western meadow-lark mounts a telegraph pole +and pours out such a peal of melody that it is distinctly heard above +the uproar of the iron wheels.</p> + +<p>This bird is preëminently the bird of the mesa, or high table-land of +the region, and only to hear his rare song is well worth a journey to +that distant wonderland. Not of his music could Lucy Larcom say, as she +so happily does of our bird of the meadow,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Sounds the meadow-lark's refrain</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.0em;">Just as sad and clear."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Nor could his sonorous song be characterized by Clinton Scollard's +exquisite verse,—</p> + +<p class="cen"> +"From whispering winds your plaintive notes were drawn." +</p> + +<p>For the brilliant solo of Colorado's bird is not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>in the least like the +charming minor chant of our Eastern lark. So powerful that it is heard +at great distances in the clear air, it is still not in the slightest +degree strained or harsh, but is sweet and rich, whether it be close at +one's side in the silence, or shouted from the housetop in the tumult of +a busy street. It has, moreover, the same tender winsomeness that charms +us in our own lark song; something that fills the sympathetic listener +with delight, that satisfies his whole being; a siren strain that he +longs to listen to forever. The whole breadth and grandeur of the great +West is in this song, its freedom, its wildness, the height of its +mountains, the sweep of its rivers, the beauty of its flowers,—all in +the wonderful performance. Even after months of absence, the bare memory +of the song of the mesa will move its lover to an almost painful +yearning. Of him, indeed, Shelley might truthfully say,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Better than all measures</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Of delightful sound,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Better than all treasures</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">That in books are found,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Thy skill to poet were,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Thou scorner of the ground."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Nor is the variety of the lark song less noteworthy than its quality. +That each bird has a large <i>répertoire</i> I cannot assert, for my +opportunities for study have been too limited; but it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>is affirmed by +those who know him better, that he has, and I fully believe it.</p> + +<p>One thing is certainly true of nearly if not quite all of our native +birds, that no two sing exactly alike, and the close observer soon +learns to distinguish between the robins and the song-sparrows of a +neighborhood, by their notes alone. The Western lark seems even more +than others to individualize his utterances, so that constant surprises +reward the discriminating listener. During two months' bird-study in +that delightful cañon-hidden grove at the foot of Cheyenne Mountain, one +particular bird song was for weeks an unsolved mystery. The strain +consisted of three notes in loud, ringing tones, which syllabled +themselves very plainly in my ear as "Whip-for-her."</p> + +<p>This unseemly, and most emphatic, demand came always from a distance, +and apparently from the top of some tall tree, and it proved to be most +tantalizing; for although the first note invariably brought me out, +opera-glass in hand, I was never able to come any nearer to a sight of +the unknown than the sway of a twig he had just left.</p> + +<p>One morning, however, before I was up, the puzzling songster visited the +little grove under my windows, and I heard his whole song, of which it +now appeared the three notes were merely the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>conclusion. The +performance was eccentric. It began with a soft warble, apparently for +his sole entertainment, then suddenly, as if overwhelmed by memory of +wrongs received or of punishment deserved, he interrupted his tender +melody with a loud, incisive "Whip-for-her!" in a totally different +manner. His nearness, however, solved the mystery; the ring of the +meadow-lark was in his tones, and I knew him at once. I had not +suspected his identity, for the Western bird does not take much trouble +to keep out of sight, and, moreover, his song is rarely less than six or +eight notes in length.</p> + +<p>Another unique singer of the highlands is the horned lark. One morning +in June a lively carriage party passing along the mountain side, on a +road so bare and bleak that it seemed nothing could live there, was +startled by a small gray bird, who suddenly dashed out of the sand +beside the wheels, ran across the path, and flew to a fence on the other +side. Undisturbed, perhaps even stimulated, by the clatter of two horses +and a rattling mountain wagon, undaunted by the laughing and talking +load, the little creature at once burst into song, so loud as to be +heard above the noisy procession, and so sweet that it silenced every +tongue.</p> + +<p>"How exquisite! What is it?" we asked each other, at the end of the +little aria.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>"It's the gray sand bird," answered the native driver.</p> + +<p>"Otherwise the horned lark," added the young naturalist, from his +broncho behind the carriage.</p> + +<p>Let not his name mislead: this pretty fellow, in soft, gray-tinted +plumage, is not deformed by "horns;" it is only two little tufts of +feathers, which give a certain piquant, wide-awake expression to his +head, that have fastened upon him a title so incongruous. The nest of +the desert-lover is a slight depression in the barren earth, nothing +more; and the eggs harmonize with their surroundings in color. The whole +is concealed by its very openness, and as hard to find, as the +bobolink's cradle in the trackless grass of the meadow.</p> + +<p>Most persistent of all the singers of the grove beside the house was the +yellow warbler, a dainty bit of featherhood the size of one's thumb. On +the Atlantic coast his simple ditty is tender, and so low that it must +be listened for; but in that land of "skies so blue they flash," he +sings it at the top of his voice, louder than the robin song as we know +it, and easily heard above the roar of the wind and the brawling of the +brook he haunts.</p> + +<p>Before me at this moment is the nest of one of these little sprites, +which I watched till the last <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>dumpy infant had taken flight, and then +secured with the branchlet it was built upon. It was in a young oak, not +more than twelve feet from the ground, occupying a perpendicular fork, +where it was concealed and shaded by no less than sixteen twigs, +standing upright, and loaded with leaves. The graceful cup itself, to +judge by its looks, might be made of white floss silk,—I have no +curiosity to know the actual material,—and is cushioned inside with +downy fibres from the cottonwood-tree. It is dainty enough for a fairy's +cradle.</p> + +<p>The wood-pewee, in dress and manners nearly resembling his Eastern +brother,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"The pewee of the loneliest woods,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Sole singer in the solitudes,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">has a strange and decidedly original utterance. While much louder and +more continuous, it lacks the sweetness of our bird's notes; indeed, it +resembles in quality of tone the voice of our phœbe, or his beautiful +relative, the great-crested flycatcher. The Westerner has a great deal +to say for himself. On alighting, he announces the fact by a single +note, which is a habit also of our phœbe; he sings the sun up in the +morning, and he sings it down in the evening, and he would be a +delightful neighbor if only his voice were pleasing. But there is little +charm in the music, for it is in truth a dismal chant, with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>air and +cheerfulness of a funeral dirge—a pessimistic performance that inspires +the listener with a desire to choke him then and there.</p> + +<p>This bird's nest, as well as his song, is unlike that of our wood-pewee. +Instead of a delicate, lichen-covered saucer set lightly upon a +horizontal crotch of a dead branch,—our bird's chosen home,—it is a +deeper cup, fastened tightly upon a large living branch, and, at least +in a cottonwood grove, decorated on the outside with the fluffy cotton +from the trees.</p> + +<p>Even the humming-bird, who contents himself in this part of the world +with a modest hum, heard but a short distance away, at the foot of the +Rocky Mountains may almost be called a noisy bird. The first one I +noticed dashed out of a thickly leaved tree with loud, angry cries, +swooped down toward me, and flew back and forth over my head, scolding +with a hum which, considering his size, might almost be called a roar. I +could not believe my ears until my eyes confirmed their testimony. The +sound was not made by the wings, but was plainly a cry strong and harsh +in an extraordinary degree.</p> + +<p>The Western ruby-throat has other singularities which differentiate him +from his Eastern brother. It is very droll to see one of his family take +part in the clamors of a bird mob, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>perching like his bigger fellows, +and adding his excited cries to the notes of catbird and robin, chewink +and yellow-bird. Attracted one morning by a great bird outcry in a dense +young oak grove across the road, I left my seat under the cottonwoods +and strolled over toward it. It was plain that some tragedy was in the +air, for the winged world was in a panic. Two robins, the only pair in +the neighborhood, uttered their cry of distress from the top of the +tallest tree; a catbird hopped from branch to branch, flirting his tail +and mewing in agitation; a chewink or two near the ground jerked +themselves about uneasily, adding their strange, husky call to the +hubbub; and above the din rose the shrill voice of a humming-bird. Every +individual had his eyes fixed upon the ground, where it was evident that +some monster must be lurking. I expected a big snake at the very least, +and, putting the lower branches aside, I, too, peered into the +semi-twilight of the grove.</p> + +<p>No snake was there; but my eyes fell upon an anxious little gray face, +obviously much disturbed to find itself the centre of so much attention. +As I appeared, this bugaboo, who had caused all the excitement, +recognized me as a friend and ran toward me, crying piteously. It was a +very small lost kitten!</p> + +<p>I took up the stray little beastie, and a silence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>fell upon the +assembly in the trees, which began to scatter, each one departing upon +his own business in a moment. But the humming-bird refused to be so +easily pacified; he was bound to see the end of the affair, and he +followed me out of the grove, still vigorously speaking his mind about +the enemy in fur. I suspected that the little creature had wandered away +from the house on the hill above, and I went up to see. The hummer +accompanied me every step of the way, sometimes flying over my head, and +again alighting for a minute on a branch under which I passed. Not until +he saw me deliver pussy into the hands of her own family, and return to +my usual seat in the grove, did he release me from surveillance and take +his leave.</p> + +<p>The yellow-breasted chat, the long-tailed variety belonging to the West, +delivers his strange medley of "chacks" and whistles, and rattles and +other indescribable cries, in a voice that is loud and distinct, as well +as sweet and rich. He is a bird of humor, too, with a mocking spirit not +common in his race. One day, while sitting motionless in a hidden nook, +trying to spy upon the domestic affairs of this elusive individual, I +was startled by the so-called "laugh" of a robin, which was instantly +repeated by a chat, unseen, but quite near. The robin, apparently +surprised or interested, called again, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>was a second time mocked. +Then he lost his temper, and began a serious reproof to the levity of +his neighbor, which ended in a good round scolding, as the saucy chat +continued to repeat his taunting laugh. This went on till the red-breast +flew away in high dudgeon.</p> + +<p>Why our little brothers in feathers are so much more boisterous than +elsewhere,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Up in the parks and the mesas wide,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Under the blue of the bluest sky,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">has not, so far as I know, been discovered.</p> + +<p>Whether it be the result of habitual opposition to the strong winds +which, during the season of song, sweep over the plains every day, or +whether the exhilaration of the mountain air be the cause—who can +tell?</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="IV" id="IV"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IV.</h2> + +<h2>THE TRAGEDY OF A NEST.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Near to the Camp, a little closer to beautiful Cheyenne Mountain, lay a +small park. It was a continuation of the grove, through which the brook +came roaring and tumbling down from the cañons above, and, being several +miles from the town, it had never become a popular resort. A few winding +paths, and a rude bench here and there, were the only signs of man's +interference with its native wildness; it was practically abandoned to +the birds—and me.</p> + +<p>The birds had full possession when I appeared on the scene, and though I +did my best to be unobtrusive, my presence was not so welcome as I could +have wished. Every morning when I came slowly and quietly up the little +path from the gate, bird-notes suddenly ceased; the grosbeak, pouring +out his soul from the top of a pine-tree, dived down the other side; the +towhee, picking up his breakfast on the ground, scuttled behind the +bushes and disappeared; the humming-bird, interrupted in her morning +"affairs," flew off over my head, scolding <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>vigorously; only the +vireo—serene as always—went on warbling and eating, undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Then I made haste to seek out an obscure spot, where I could sit and +wait in silence, to see who might unwittingly show himself.</p> + +<p>I was never lonely, and never tired; for if—as sometimes happened—no +flit of wing came near to interest me, there before me was beautiful +Cheyenne, with its changing face never twice alike, and its undying +associations with its poet and lover, whose lonely grave makes it +forever sacred to those who loved her. There, too, was the wonderful sky +of Colorado, so blue it looked almost violet, and near at hand the +"Singing Water," whose stirring music was always inspiring.</p> + +<p>One morning I was startled from my reverie by a sudden cry, so loud and +clear that I turned quickly to see what manner of bird had uttered it. +The voice was peculiar and entirely new to me. First came a scolding +note like that of an oriole, then the "chack" of a blackbird, and next a +sweet, clear whistle, one following the other rapidly and vehemently, as +if the performer intended to display all his accomplishments in a +breath. Cheyenne vanished like "the magic mountain of a dream," blue +skies were forgotten, the babbling brook unheard, every sense was +instantly alert to see that extraordinary bird,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"Like a poet hidden,</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Singing songs unbidden."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But he did not appear. Not a leaf rustled, not a twig bent, though the +strange medley kept on for fifteen minutes, then ceased as abruptly as +it had begun, and not a whisper more could be heard. The whole thing +seemed uncanny. Was it a bird at all, or a mere "wandering voice"? It +seemed to come from a piece of rather swampy ground, overgrown with +clumps of willow and low shrubs; but what bird of earthly mould could +come and go, and make no sign that a close student of bird ways could +detect? Did he creep on the ground? Did he vanish into thin air?</p> + +<p>Hours went by. I could not go, and my leafy nook was "struck through +with slanted shafts of afternoon" before I reluctantly gave up that I +should not see my enchanter that day, and slowly left the grove, the +mystery unexplained.</p> + +<p>Very early the next morning I was saluted by the same loud, clear calls +near the house. Had then the Invisible followed me home? I sprang up and +hurried to the always open window. The voice was very near; but I could +not see its author, though I was hidden behind blinds.</p> + +<p>This time the bird—if bird it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>were—indulged in a fuller <i>répertoire</i>. +I seized pencil and paper, and noted down phonetically the different +notes as they were uttered. This is the record: "Rat-t-t-t-t" (very +rapid); "quit! quit! quit!" (a little slower); "wh-eu! wh-eu!" (still +more deliberately); "chack! chack! chack!" (quite slow); "cr[=e], +cr[=e], cr[=e], cr[=e]" (fast); "hu-way! hu-way!" (very sweet). There +was a still more musical clause that I cannot put into syllables, then a +rattle exactly like castanets, and lastly a sort of "Kr-r-r! kr-r-r!" in +the tone of a great-crested flycatcher. While this will not express to +one who has not heard it the marvelous charm of it all, it will at least +indicate the variety.</p> + +<p>Hardly waiting to dispose of breakfast, I betook myself to my "woodland +enchanted," resolved to stay till I saw that bird.</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"All day in the bushes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">The woodland was haunted."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The voice was soon on hand, and once more I was treated to the +incomparable recitative.</p> + +<p>This day, too, my patience was rewarded; the mystery was solved; I saw +the Unknown! While my eyes were fixed upon a certain bush before me, the +singer incautiously ventured too near the top of a twig, and I saw him +plainly, standing almost upright, and vehemently chanting his fantasia, +opening his mouth very wide <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>with every call. I knew him at once, the +rogue! from having read of him; he was the yellow-breasted chat. It was +well, indeed, that I happened to be looking at that very spot, and that +I was quick in my observation; for in a moment he saw the blunder he had +made, and slipped back down the stem, too late for his secret—I had him +down in black and white.</p> + +<p>From that time the little park was never lonely, nor did I spend much +time dreaming over Cheyenne. The moment I appeared in the morning my +lively host began his vocal gymnastics, while I sat spellbound, +bewitched by the magic of his notes. In spite of being absorbed in +listening to him, I retained my faculties sufficiently to reflect that +the chat had probably other employment than entertaining me, and that +doubtless his object was to distract my attention from looking about me, +or to reproach me for intruding upon his private domain. In either case +there was, of course,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"A nest unseen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.0em;">Somewhere among the million stalks;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and, delightful as I found the unseen bird, his nest was a treasure I +was even more anxious to see.</p> + +<p>Not to disturb him more than necessary, I spent part of an evening +studying up the nesting habits of the chat,—the long-tailed, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>yellow-breasted, as I found him to be,—and the next morning made a +thorough search through the swamp, looking into every bush and examining +every thicket. An hour or two of this hard work satisfied me for the +day, and I went home warm and tired, followed to the very door by the +mocking voice, triumphing, as it seemed, in my failure.</p> + +<p>The next day, however, fortune smiled upon me; I came upon a nest, not +far above the ground, among the stems of a clump of shrubs, which +exactly answered the description of the one I sought. Careful not to lay +a finger on it, I slightly parted the branches above, and looked in upon +three pinkish-white eggs, small in size and dainty as tinted pearls. +Happy day, I thought, and the forerunner of happy to-morrows when I +should watch</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"The green nest full of pleasant shade</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Wherein three speckled eggs were laid,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and see and delight in the family life centring about it.</p> + +<p>To study a bird so shy required extraordinary precautions; I therefore +sought, and found, a post of observation a long way off, where I could +look through a natural vista among the shrubs, and with my glass bring +the bush and its precious contents into view. For greater seclusion in +my retreat, so that I should be as little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>conspicuous as possible, I +drew down a branch of the low tree over my seat, and fastened it with a +fine string to a stout weed below. Then I thought I had a perfect +screen; I devoutly hoped the birds would not notice me.</p> + +<p>Vain delusion! and labor as vain! Doubtless two pairs of anxious eyes +watched from some neighboring bush all my careful preparations, and then +and there two despairing hearts bade farewell to their lovely little +home, abandoned it and its treasures to the spy and the destroyer, which +in their eyes I seemed to be.</p> + +<p>This conclusion was forced upon me by the experiences of the next few +days. The birds absolutely would not approach the nest while I was in +the park. The first morning I sat motionless for nearly two hours, and +not a feather showed itself near that bush; it was plainly "tabooed." +During the next day the chat called from this side and that, moving +about in his wonderful way, without disturbing a twig, rustling a leaf, +or flitting a wing—as silently, indeed, as if he were a spirit +unclothed.</p> + +<p>While waiting for him to show himself, making myself as nearly a part of +nature about me as a mortal is gifted to do, I congratulated myself upon +the one good look I had secured, for, with all my efforts and all my +watching, I saw him but twice more all summer. The enigma <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>of that +remarkable voice would have been maddening indeed, if I could not have +known to whom it belonged.</p> + +<p>After several days of untiring observation I had but two glimpses to +record. On one occasion a chat alighted on the top sprig of the fateful +shrub, as if going to the nest, but almost on the instant vanished. The +same day, a little later, one of these birds flitted into my view, +without a sound. So perfectly silent were his movements that I should +not have seen him if he had not come directly before my eyes. He, or +she, for the pair are alike, alighted in a low bush and scrambled about +as if in search of insects, climbing, not hopping. He stayed but a few +seconds and departed like a shadow, as he had come.</p> + +<p>On the tenth day after my discovery of the nest with its trio of eggs I +went out as usual, for I could not abandon hope. In passing the nest I +glanced in and saw one egg; I could never see but one as I went by, but, +not liking to go too near, I presumed that the other two were there, as +I had always found them, and slipped quietly into my usual place.</p> + +<p>In a few moments the chat shouted a call so near that it fairly startled +me. From that he went on to make his ordinary protest, but, as happened +nearly every time, I was not able to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>see him. I saw +something—something that took my breath away. A shadowy form creeping +stealthily through the shrubs five or six feet from me. It glided across +the opening in front, and in a moment went to the bush I was watching. +In silence, but with evident excitement, it moved about, approached the +nest, and in a few seconds flew quickly across the path in plain sight, +holding in its mouth something white which was large for its beak. I was +reminded of an English sparrow carrying a piece of bread as big as his +head, a sight familiar to every one. In a minute or two the same bird, +or his twin, came to the nest again and disappeared on the other side.</p> + +<p>When I left my place to go home, I looked with misgivings into the nest +on which I had built so many hopes. Lo! it was empty!</p> + +<p>Now I identified that stealthy visitor absolutely, but I shall never +name him. I have never heard him accused of nest-robbing, and I shall +not make the charge; for I am convinced that the chat had deserted the +nest, and that this abstracter of eggs knew it, and simply took the good +things the gods threw in his way—as would the best of us.</p> + +<p>After that unfortunate ending the chat disappeared from the little park; +but a week later I came upon him, or his voice, in a private and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>rarely +visited pasture down the road, where many clumps of small trees and much +low growth offered desirable nesting-places. He made his usual protest, +and feeling that I had been the cause of the tragedy of the first nest, +though I had grieved over it as much as the owners could, the least I +could do, to show my regret, was to take myself and my curiosity out of +his neighborhood. So I retired at once, and left the whole broad pasture +to the incorrigible chat family, who, I hope, succeeded at last in +enriching the world by half a dozen more of their bewitching kind.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="V" id="V"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>V.</h2> + +<h2>A FEAST OF FLOWERS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">When first the crocus thrusts its point of gold</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Up through the still snow-drifted garden mould,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">And folded green things in dim woods unclose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Into my veins and makes me kith and kin</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">To every wild-born thing that thrills and blows.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 19.5em;"><span class="smcap">T. B. Aldrich.</span></p> + + +<p>My feast of flowers began before I entered Colorado. For half the +breadth of Kansas the banks of the railroad were heavenly blue with +clustered blossoms of the spiderwort. I remember clumps of this flower +in my grandmother's old-fashioned garden, but my wildest dreams never +pictured miles of it, so profuse that, looking backward from the train, +the track looked like threads of steel in a broad ribbon of blue.</p> + +<p>Through the same State, also, the Western meadow-larks kept us company, +and I shall never again think of "bleeding Kansas," but of smiling +Kansas, the home of the bluest of blossoms and the sweetest of singers. +The latter half of the way through the smiling State was golden with +yellow daisies in equal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>abundance, and beside them many other flowers. +Beginning at noon, I counted twenty-seven varieties, so near the track +that I could distinguish them as we rushed past.</p> + +<p>The Santa Fé road enters Colorado in a peculiarly desolate region. +Flowers and birds appear to have stayed behind in Kansas, and no green +thing shows its head, excepting one dismal-looking bush, which serves +only to accentuate the poverty of the soil. As we go on, the mud is +replaced by sand and stones, from gravel up to big bowlders, and flowers +begin to struggle up through the unpromising ground.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more surprising than the amazing profusion of wild-flowers +which this apparently ungenial soil produces. Of a certainty, if +Colorado is not the paradise of wild-flowers, it is incomparably richer +in them than any State east of the Mississippi River and north of "Mason +and Dixon's Line." To begin with, there is a marvelous variety. Since I +have taken note of them, from about the 10th of June till nearly the +same date in July, I have found in my daily walk of not more than a mile +or two, each time from one to seven new kinds. A few days I have found +seven, many times I have brought home four, and never has a day passed +without at least one I had not seen before. That will average, at a low +estimate, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>about a hundred varieties of flowers in a month, and all +within a radius of four miles. What neighborhood can produce a record +equal to this?</p> + +<p>Then, again, the blossoms themselves are so abundant. Hardly a root +contents itself with a single flower. The moccasin-plant is the only one +I have noticed as yet. One root will usually send up from one to a dozen +stems, fairly loaded with buds—like the yucca—which open a few every +day, and thus keep in bloom for weeks. Or if there is but one stem, it +will be packed with buds from the ground to the tip, with new ones to +come out for every blossom that falls.</p> + +<p>One in the vase on my stand at this moment is of this sort. It is a stem +that sometimes attains a height of four or five feet. I think it +lengthens as long as it is blossoming, and, to look at its preparations, +that must be all summer. Every two or three inches of the stout stem is +a whorl of leaves and buds and blossoms. Except the number of buds, it +is all in fours. Opposite each other, making a cross, are four leaves, +like a carnation leaf at first, but broadening and lengthening till it +is two inches at the base and eight or ten long. Rising out of the axil +of each leaf are buds, of graduated size and development up to the open +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>blossom. That one stem, therefore, is prepared to open fresh flowers +every day for a long time.</p> + +<p>The plant is exquisitely beautiful, for the whole thing, from the stem +to the flower petals, is of a delicate, light pea-green. The blossom +opens like a star, with four stamens and four petals. The description +sounds mathematical, but the plant is graceful—a veritable symphony in +green.</p> + +<p>A truly royal bouquet stands on my table—three spikes of yucca flowers +in a tall vase, the middle one three feet high, bearing fifty blossoms +and buds, of large size and a pink color; on its right, one a little +less in size, with long creamy cups fully open; and on the left another, +set with round greenish balls, not so open as cups. They are distinctly +different, but each seems more exquisite than the other, and their +fragrance fills the room. In fact it is so overpowering that when at +night I close the door opening into the grove, I shut the vase and its +contents outside.</p> + +<p>This grand flower is the glory of the mesa or table-land at the foot of +this range of the Rocky Mountains—the Cheyenne Range. Where no +grass—that we name grass—will grow, where trees die for want of water, +these noble spikes of flowers dot the bare plains in profusion.</p> + +<p>It is the rich possessor of three names. To <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>the flower-lover it is the +yucca; to the cultivator, or whosoever meddles with its leaves, it is +the Spanish-bayonet; to the utilitarian, who values a thing only as it +is of use to him, it is the soap-weed—ignoble name, referring to +certain qualities pertaining to its roots. When we remember that this +flower is not the careful product of the garden, but of spontaneous +growth in the most barren and hopeless-looking plains, we may well +regard it as a type of Colorado's luxuriance in these loveliest of +nature's gifts.</p> + +<p>Of a surly disposition is the blossom of a cactus—the "prickly-pear," +as we call it in Eastern gardens, where we cultivate it for its oddity, +I suppose. When the sojourner in this land of flowers sees, opening on +all sides of this inhospitable-looking plant, rich cream-colored cups, +the size of a Jacqueminot bud, and of a rare, satiny sheen, she cannot +resist the desire to fill a low dish with them for her table.</p> + +<p>Woe to her if she attempts to gather them "by hand"! Properly warned, +she will take a knife, sever the flower from the pear (there is no stem +to speak of), pick it up by the tip of a petal, carry it home in a paper +or handkerchief, and dump it gently into water—happy if she does not +feel a dozen intolerable prickles here and there, and have to extract, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>with help of magnifying-glass and tweezers, as many needle-like barbs +rankling in her flesh. She may as well have spared herself the trouble. +The flowers possess the uncompromising nature of the stock from which +they sprung; they will speedily shut themselves up like buds again—I +almost believe they close with a snap—and obstinately refuse to display +their satin draperies to delight the eyes of their abductors. This +unlovely spirit is not common among Colorado flowers; most of them go on +blooming in the vase day after day.</p> + +<p>Remarkable are the places in which the flowers are found. Not only are +they seen in crevices all the way up the straight side of rocks, where +one would hardly think a seed could lodge, but beside the roads, between +the horses' tracks, and on the edge of gutters in the streets of a city. +One can walk down any street in Colorado Springs and gather a bouquet, +lovely and fragrant, choice enough to adorn any one's table. I once +counted twelve varieties in crossing one vacant corner lot on the +principal street.</p> + +<p>One of the richest wild gardens I know is a bare, open spot in a +cottonwood grove, part of it tunneled by ants, which run over it by +millions, and the rest a jumble of bowlders and wild rosebushes, +impossible to describe. In this spot, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>unshaded from the burning sun, +flourish flowers innumerable. Rosebushes, towering far above one's head, +loaded with bloom; shrubs of several kinds, equally burdened by delicate +white or pink blossoms; the ground covered with foot-high pentstemons, +blue and lavender, in which the buds fairly get in each other's way; and +a curious plant—primrose, I believe—which opens every morning, a few +inches from the ground, a large white blossom like the magnolia, turns +it deep pink, and closes it before night; several kinds of yellow +flowers; wild geraniums, with a look of home in their daintily penciled +petals; above all, the wonderful golden columbine. I despair of +picturing this grand flower to eyes accustomed to the insignificant +columbine of the East. The blossom is three times the size of its +Eastern namesake, growing in clumps sometimes three feet across, with +thirty or forty stems of flowers standing two and a half feet high. In +hue it is a delicate straw color, sometimes all one tint, sometimes with +outside petals of snowy white, and rarely with those outsiders of +lavender. It is a red-letter day when the flower-lover comes upon a +clump of the lavender-leaved columbine. Far up in the mountains is found +still another variety of this beautiful flower, with outside petals of a +rich blue. This, I believe, is the State flower of Colorado.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>I am surprised at the small number of flowers here with which I am +familiar. I think there are not more than half a dozen in all this +extraordinary "procession of flowers" that I ever saw before. In +consequence, every day promises discoveries, every walk is exciting as +an excursion into unknown lands, each new find is a fresh treasure.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VI" id="VI"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VI.</h2> + +<h2>A CINDERELLA AMONG FLOWERS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Like torches lit for carnival,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">The fiery lilies straight and tall</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Burn where the deepest shadow is;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Still dance the columbines cliff-hung,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And like a broidered veil outflung</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">The many-blossomed clematis.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">Susan Coolidge.</span></p> + +<p>A rough, scraggy plant, with unattractive, dark-green foliage and a +profusion of buds standing out at all angles, is, in July, almost the +only growing thing to be seen on the barren-looking mesa around Colorado +Springs. Anything more unpromising can hardly be imagined; the coarsest +thistle is a beauty beside it; the common burdock has a grace of growth +far beyond it; the meanest weed shows a color which puts it to shame. +Yet if the curious traveler pass that way again, late in the afternoon, +he shall find that "Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of +these." He will see the bush transfigured; its angular form hidden under +a mass of many pointed stars of snowy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>whiteness, with clusters of pale +gold stamens. Then will stand revealed the "superb mentzelia," a true +Cinderella, fit only for ignominious uses in the morning, but a suitable +bride for the fairy prince in the evening.</p> + +<p>To look at the wide-stretching table-lands, where, during its season, +this fairy-story transformation takes place daily, so burned by the sun, +and swept by the wind, that no cultivated plant will flourish on it, one +would never suspect that it is the scene of a brilliant "procession of +flowers" from spring to fall. "There is always something going on +outdoors worth seeing," says Charles Dudley Warner, and of no part of +the world is this more true than of these apparently desolate plains at +the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Rich is the reward of the daily +stroller, not only in the inspiration of its pure, bracing air, the +songs of its meadow-larks, and the glory of its grand mountain view, but +in its charming flower show.</p> + +<p>This begins with the anemone, modest and shy like our own, but three +times as big, and well protected from the sharp May breezes by a soft, +fluffy silk wrap. Then some day in early June the walker shall note +groups of long, sword-shaped leaves, rising in clusters here and there +from the ground. He may not handle them with impunity, for they are +strong and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>sharp-edged, and somewhat later the beauty they are set to +guard is revealed. A stem or two, heavy and loaded with hard green +balls, pushes itself up among them day by day, till some morning he +stands spellbound before the full-blown bells of the yucca, cream-tinted +or pink, and fragrant as the breath of summer.</p> + +<p>Before the Nature-lover is tired of feasting his eyes upon that stately +flower, shall begin to unfold the crumpled draperies of the great +Mexican poppy, dotting the hillsides and the mesa with white, as far as +the eye can reach. Meanwhile, the earth itself shall suddenly turn to +pink, and a close look disclose a tiny, low-growing blossom, sweet as +the morning, with the glow of the sunrise in its face; a little bunch of +crazy-looking stamens, and tiny snips of petals standing out at all +angles, and of all shades on one stem, from white to deep red; the whole +no bigger than a gauzy-winged fly, and shaped not unlike one, with a +delicious odor that scents the air.</p> + +<p>Next day—or next week—wandering over the pathless barrens, the +observer may come upon a group of cream-colored satin flowers, wide open +to the sun, innocent looking and most tempting to gather. But the great +fleshy leaves from which they spring give warning; they belong to the +cactus family, and are well armed to protect their treasures from the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>vagrant hand. The walker—if he be wise—will content himself with +looking, nor seek a nearer acquaintance.</p> + +<p>While these royal beauties are adorning the highlands, others, perhaps +even more lovely, are blooming in the cañons, under the trees, and +beside the noisy brooks. First, there is a "riot of roses"—the only +expression that adequately suggests the profusion of these beautiful +flowers. They grow in enormous bushes, far above one's head, in +impenetrable thickets, extending for yards each way.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"Rose hedges</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Abloom to the edges."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Every country road is walled in by them; every brookside is glorified by +their rich masses of color; and no rocky wall is so bare but here and +there a tiny shoot finds root, and open its rosy bloom. All these +bushes, from the low-growing sort that holds its mottled and shaded +petals three inches above the ground, to that whose top one cannot +reach, are simply loaded with blossoms of all shades, from nearly white +to deepest rose-color, filling the air with perfume.</p> + +<p>The first time one comes upon this lavish display, he—or more probably +she—picks a spray from the first bush; she cannot resist the next +variety, and before she knows it her arms <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>are full, with temptations as +strong as ever before her. She may at last, like "H. H.," take home her +roses by the carriage load, or, overwhelmed by their numbers, leave them +all on their stems, and enjoy them in mass.</p> + +<p>Shyly hiding under the taller shrubs beside the running water, the +experienced seeker will find the gilia, one of the gems of Colorado's +bouquet. This plant consists of one slender stem two feet or more tall, +swayed by every breeze, and set for several inches of its length with +daintiest blossoms,—</p> + +<p class="cen">"Like threaded rubies on its stem."</p> + +<p>They are like fairy trumpets, in many shades, from snow white to deep +rose, and brilliant scarlet, with great variety of delicate marking +visible only under a glass. The stem is so sticky that the flowers must +be arranged as they are gathered; for they cling to each other more +closely than the fabled "brother," and an attempt to separate them will +result in torn flowers.</p> + +<p>Anything more exquisite than a vase of gilias alone is rarely seen. The +buds are as lovely as the blossoms; new ones open every day, and even +the faded ones are not unsightly; their petals are simply turned +backward a little. One minute every morning spent in snipping off +blossoms that are past their prime insures the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>happy possessor a +bouquet that is a joy forever, even in memory; lovely and fresh, in +ever-changing combinations of color and form.</p> + +<p>Some day shall be made memorable to the enthusiast by the discovery of a +flower which should be named for "H. H.,"—the one which looked so +charming from the moving train that her winning tongue brought the iron +horse to a pause while it was gathered, "root and branch," for her +delectation. Finding the gorgeous spike of golden blossoms without a +common name, she called it—most happily—the golden prince's feather. +It is to be presumed that it has an unwieldy scientific cognomen in the +botanies; but I heard of no common one, except that given by the poet.</p> + +<p>While this royal flower is still in bloom, may be found the mariposa, or +butterfly lily, small and low on the burning mesa, but more generous in +size, and richer of hue, in the shaded cañons.</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"Like a bubble borne in air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Floats the shy Mariposa's bell,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>says Susan Coolidge in her beautiful tribute to her beloved friend and +poet. The three petals of this exquisite flower form a graceful cup of +differing degrees of violet hue, some being nearly white, with the color +massed in a rich, deep-toned crescent, low down at the heart of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>each +petal, while others are glowing in the most regal purple.</p> + +<p>All these weeks, too, have been blossoming dozens, yes, hundreds of +others; every nook and corner is full; every walk brings surprises. Some +of our most familiar friends are wanting. One is not surprised that the +most common wayside flower of that golden region is the yellow daisy, or +sunflower it is called; but she remembers fondly our fields of white +daisies, and clumps of gay little buttercups, and she longs for +cheery-faced dandelions beside her path. A few of the latter she may +find, much larger and more showy than ours; but these—it is said in +Colorado Springs—are all from seed imported by an exile for health's +sake, who pined for the flowers of home.</p> + +<p>Several peculiarities of Colorado flowers are noteworthy. Some have +gummy or sticky stems, like the gilia, already mentioned, and others +again are "clinging," by means of a certain roughness of stem and leaf. +The mentzelia is of this nature; half a dozen stalks can with difficulty +be separated; and they seem even to attract any light substance, like +fringe or lace, holding so closely to it that they must be torn apart.</p> + +<p>Many of the prettiest flowers are, like our milkweed, nourished by a +milky juice, and when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>severed from the parent stem, not only weep thick +white tears, which stain the hands and the garments, but utterly refuse +to subsist on water, and begin at once to droop. Is it the vitality in +the air which forces even the plants to eccentricities? Or can it be +that they have not yet been subdued into uniformity like ours? Are they +unconventional—nearer to wild Nature? So queries an unscientific lover +of them all.</p> + +<p>This slight sketch of a few flowers gives hardly a hint of the richness +of Colorado's flora. No words can paint the profusion and the beauty. I +have not here even mentioned some of the most notable: the great golden +columbine, the State flower, to which our modest blossom is an +insignificant weed;</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"The fairy lilies, straight and tall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Like torches lit for carnival;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>the primrose, opening at evening a disk three or four inches across, +loaded with richest perfume, and changed to odorless pink before +morning; exquisite vetches, with bloom like our sweet pea, and of more +than fifty varieties; harebells in great clumps, and castilleias which +dot the State with scarlet; rosy cyclamens "on long, lithe stems that +soar;" and mertensias, whose delicate bells, blue as a baby's eyes, turn +day by day to pink; the cleome, which covers Denver with a purple veil; +the whole family of pentstemons, and hundreds of others.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>An artist in Colorado Springs, who has given her heart, almost her life, +to fixing in imperishable color the floral wealth about her, has painted +over three hundred varieties of Colorado wild-flowers, and her list is +still incomplete.</p> + +<p>It is not pleasant to mar this record of beauty, but one thing must be +mentioned. The luxuriance of the flowers is already greatly diminished +by the unscrupulousness of the tourists who swarm in the flower season, +especially, I am sorry to say, women. Not content with filling their +hands with flowers, they fill their arms and even their carriage, if +they have one. Moreover, the hold of the plant on the light, sandy soil +is very slight; and the careless gatherer, not provided with knife or +scissors, will almost invariably pull the root with the flower, thus +totally annihilating that plant. When one witnesses such greediness, and +remembers that these vandals are in general on the wing, and cannot stay +to enjoy what they have rifled, but will leave it all to be thrown out +by hotel servants the next morning, he cannot wonder at the indignation +of the residents toward the traveler, nor that "No admittance" notices +are put up, and big dogs kept, and that "tourist" is a name synonymous +with "plunderer," and bitterly hated by the people.</p> + +<p>I have seen a party of ladies—to judge by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>their looks—with arms so +full of the golden columbine that it seemed they could not hold another +flower, whose traveling dress and equipments showed them to be mere +transient passers through, who could not possibly make use of so many. +Half a dozen blossoms would have given as much pleasure as half a +hundred, and be much more easily cared for, besides leaving a few for +their successors to enjoy. The result is, of course, plain to see: a few +more years of plunder, and Colorado will be left bare, and lose half her +charm.</p> + +<p>One beautiful place near Colorado Springs, Glen Eyrie, belonging to +General Palmer, was generously left open for every one to enjoy by +driving through; but, incredible as it seems, his hospitality was so +abused, his lovely grounds rifled, not only of wild-flowers, but even of +cultivated flowers and plants, that he was forced at last to put up +notices that the public was allowed to "drive through <i>without +dismounting</i>."</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VII" id="VII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VII.</h2> + +<h2>CLIFF-DWELLERS IN THE CAÑON.</h2> +<br /> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 21.5em;">Glad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">With light as with a garment it is clad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">Each dawn, before the tardy plains have won</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">One ray; and often after day has long been done</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">For us, the light doth cling reluctant, sad to leave its brow.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 23.5em;"><span class="smcap">H. H.</span></p> + +<p>The happiest day of my summer in the Rocky Mountains was passed in the +heart of a mountain consecrated by the songs and the grave of its lover, +"H. H.,"—beautiful Cheyenne, the grandest and the most graceful of its +range.</p> + +<p>Camp Harding, my home for the season, in its charming situation, has +already been described. The fortunate dwellers in this "happy valley" +were blessed with two delectable walks, "down the road" and "up the +road." Down the road presented an enchanting procession of flowers, +which changed from day to day as the season advanced; to-day the scarlet +castilleia, or painter's-brush, flaming out of the coarse grasses; +to-morrow the sand lily, lifting its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>dainty face above the bare sand; +next week the harebell, in great clumps, nodding across the field, and +next month the mariposa or butterfly lily, just peeping from behind the +brush,—with dozens of others to keep them company. As one went on, the +fields grew broader, the walls of the mesa lowered and drew apart, till +the cañon was lost in the wide, open country.</p> + +<p>This was the favorite evening walk, with all the camp dogs in +attendance,—the nimble greyhound, the age-stiffened and sedate spaniel, +the saucy, ill-bred bull-terrier, and the naïve baby pug. The loitering +walk usually ended at the red farmhouse a mile away, and the walkers +returned to the camp in the gloaming, loaded with flowers, saturated +with the delicious mountain air, and filled with a peace that passeth +words.</p> + +<p>Up the road led into the mountain, under thick-crowding trees, between +frowning rocks, ever growing higher and drawing nearer together, till +the carriage road became a burro track, and then a footpath; now this +side the boisterous brook, then crossing by a log or two to the other +side, and ending in the heart of Cheyenne in a <i>cul-de-sac</i>, whose high +perpendicular sides could be scaled only by flights of steps built +against the rocks. From high up the mountain, into this immense rocky +basin, came <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>the brook Shining Water, in seven tremendous leaps, each +more lovely than the last, and reached at bottom a deep stone bowl, +which flung it out in a shower of spray forbidding near approach, and +keeping the rocks forever wet.</p> + +<p>The morning walk was up the road, in the grateful shade of the trees, +between the cool rocks, beside the impetuous brook. This last was an +ever fresh source of interest and pleasure, for nothing differs more +widely from an Eastern brook than its Western namesake. The terms we +apply to our mountain rivulets do not at all describe a body of water on +its way down a Rocky Mountain valley. It does not murmur,—it roars and +brawls; it cannot ripple,—it rages and foams about the bowlders that +lie in its path. The name of a Colorado mountain stream, the Roaring +Fork, exactly characterizes it.</p> + +<p>One warm morning in June, a small party from the camp set out for a walk +up the road. By easy stages, resting here and there on convenient rocks, +beguiled at every step by something more beautiful just ahead, they +penetrated to the end of the cañon. Of that party I was one, and it was +my first visit. I was alternately in raptures over the richness of +color, the glowing red sandstone against the violet-blue sky, and +thrilled by the grandeur <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>of places which looked as if the whole +mountain had been violently rent asunder.</p> + +<p>But no emotion whatever, no beauty, no sublimity even, can make me +insensible to a bird note. Just at the entrance to the Pillars of +Hercules, two towering walls of perpendicular rock that approach each +other almost threateningly, as if they would close up and crush between +them the rash mortal who dared to penetrate farther,—in that impressive +spot, while I lingered, half yielding to a mysterious hesitation about +entering the strange portal, a bird song fell upon my ear. It was a +plaintive warble, that sounded far away up the stern cliff above my +head. It seemed impossible that a bird could find a foothold, or be in +any way attracted by those bare walls, yet I turned my eyes, and later +my glass that way.</p> + +<p>At first nothing was to be seen save, part way up the height, an +exquisite bit of nature. In a niche that might have been scooped out by +a mighty hand, where scarcely a ray of sunlight could penetrate, and no +human touch could make or mar, were growing, and blooming luxuriantly, a +golden columbine, Colorado's pride and glory, a rosy star-shaped blossom +unknown to me, and a cluster of</p> + +<p class="cen">"Proud cyclamens on long, lithe stems that soar."</p> + +<p>When I could withdraw my eyes from this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>dainty wind-sown garden, I +sought the singer, who proved to be a small brown bird with a +conspicuous white throat, flitting about on the face of the rock, +apparently quite at home, and constantly repeating his few notes. His +song was tender and bewitching in its effect, though it was really +simple in construction, being merely nine notes, the first uttered +twice, and the remaining eight in descending chromatic scale.</p> + +<p>Now and then the tiny songster disappeared in what looked like a slight +crack in the wall, but instantly reappeared, and resumed his siren +strains. Spellbound I stood, looking and listening; but alas! the hour +was late, the way was long, and others were waiting; I needs must tear +myself away. "To-morrow I will come again," I said, as I turned back. +"To-morrow I shall be here alone, and spend the whole day with the cañon +wren."</p> + +<p>Then we retraced our steps of the morning, lingering among the pleasant +groves of cottonwood, oak, and aspen; pausing to admire the cactus +display of gorgeous yellow, with petals widespread, yet so wedded to +their wildness that they resented the touch of a human hand, resisting +their ravisher with needle-like barbs, and then sullenly drawing +together their satin petals and refusing to open them more; past <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>great +thickets of wild roses, higher than our heads and fragrant as the +morning; beside close-growing bushes, where hid the</p> + +<p class="cen">"Golden cradle of the moccasin flower,"</p> + +<p class="noin">and the too clever yellow-breasted chat had mocked and defied me; and so +home to the camp.</p> + +<p>At an early hour the next morning, the carriage of my hostess set me +down at the entrance of Cheyenne Cañon proper, with the impedimenta +necessary for a day's isolation from civilization. I passed through the +gate,—for even this grand work of nature is claimed as private +property; but, happily, through good sense or indifference, +"improvements" have not been attempted, and one forgets the gate and the +gate-keeper as soon as they are passed.</p> + +<p>Entering at that unnatural hour, and alone, leaving the last human being +behind,—staring in astonishment, by the way, at my unprecedented +proceeding,—I began to realize, as I walked up the narrow path, that +the whole grand cañon, winding perhaps a mile into the heart of this +most beautiful of the Rocky Mountains, was mine alone for three hours. +Indeed, when the time arrived for tourists to appear, so little did I +concern myself with them that they might have been a procession of +spectres passing by; so, in effect, the cañon was my solitary possession +for nine blissful hours.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>The delights of that perfect day cannot be put into words. Strolling up +the path, filled with an inexpressible sense of ownership and seclusion +from all the world, I first paused in the neighborhood of the small +cliff-dweller whose music had charmed me, and suggested the enchanting +idea of spending a day with him in his retreat. I seated myself opposite +the forbidding wall where the bird had hovered, apparently so much at +home. All was silent; no singer to be heard, no wren to be seen. The +sun, which turned the tops of the Pillars to gold as I entered, crept +down inch by inch till it beat upon my head and clothed the rock in a +red glory. Still no bird appeared. High above the top of the rocks, in +the clear thin air of the mountain, a flock of swallows wheeled and +sported, uttering an unfamiliar two-note call; butterflies fluttered +irresolute, looking frivolous enough in the presence of the eternal +hills; gauzy-winged dragonflies zigzagged to and fro, their intense blue +gleaming in the sun. The hour for visitors drew near, and my precious +solitude was fast slipping away.</p> + +<p>Slowly then I walked up the cañon, looking for my singer. Humming-birds +were hovering before the bare rock as before a flower, perhaps sipping +the water-drops that here and there trickled down, and large hawks, like +mere specks <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>against the blue, were soaring, but no wren could I see. At +last I reached the end, with its waterfall fountain. Close within this +ceaseless sprinkle, on a narrow ledge that was never dry, was placed—I +had almost said grew—a bird's nest; whose, it were needless to ask. One +American bird, and one only, chooses perpetual dampness for his +environment,—the American dipper, or water ouzel.</p> + +<p>Here I paused to muse over the spray-soaked cradle on the rock. In this +strange place had lived a bird so eccentric that he prefers not only to +nest under a continuous shower, through which he must constantly pass, +but to spend most of his life in, not on the water. Shall we call him a +fool or a philosopher? Is the water a protection, and from what? Has +"damp, moist unpleasantness" no terrors for his fine feathers? Where now +were the nestlings whose lullaby had been the music of the falling +waters? Down that sheer rock, perhaps into the water at its foot, had +been the first flight of the ouzel baby. Why had I come too late to see +him?</p> + +<p>But the hours were passing, while I had not seen, and, what was worse, +had not heard my first charmer, the cañon wren. Leaving these perplexing +conundrums unsolved, I turned slowly back down the walk, to resume my +search. Perhaps fifty feet from the ouzel nest, as I lingered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>to admire +the picturesque rapids in the brook, a slight movement drew my attention +to a little projection on a stone, not six feet from me, where a small +chipmunk sat pertly up, holding in his two hands, and eagerly +nibbling—was it, could it be a strawberry in this rocky place?</p> + +<p>Of course I stopped instantly to look at this pretty sight. I judged him +to be a youngster, partly because of his evident fearlessness of his +hereditary enemy, a human being; more on account of the saucy way in +which he returned my stare; and most, perhaps, from the appearance of +absorbing delight, in which there was a suggestion of the unexpected, +with which he discussed that sweet morsel. Closely I watched him as he +turned the treasure round and round in his deft little paws, and at last +dropped the rifled hull. Would he go for another, and where? In an +instant, with a parting glance at me, to make sure that I had not moved, +he scrambled down his rocky throne, and bounded in great leaps over the +path to a crumpled paper, which I saw at once was one of the bags with +which tourists sow the earth. But its presence there did not rouse in my +furry friend the indignation it excited in me. To him it was a +treasure-trove, for into it he disappeared without a moment's +hesitation; and almost before I had jumped to the conclusion that it +contained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>the remains of somebody's luncheon, he reappeared, holding in +his mouth another strawberry, bounded over the ground to his former +seat, and proceeded to dispose of that one, also. The scene was so +charming and his pleasure so genuine that I forgave the careless +traveler on the spot, and only wished I had a kodak to secure a +permanent picture of this unique strawberry festival.</p> + +<p>As I loitered along, gazing idly at the brook, ever listening and +longing for the wren song, I was suddenly struck motionless by a loud, +shrill, and peculiar cry. It was plainly a bird voice, and it seemed to +come almost from the stream itself. It ceased in a moment, and then +followed a burst of song, liquid as the singing of the brook, and +enchantingly sweet, though very low. I was astounded. Who could sing +like that up in this narrow mountain gorge, where I supposed the cañon +wren was king?</p> + +<p>At the point where I stood, a straggling shrub, the only one for rods, +hung over the brink. I silently sank to a seat behind it, lest I disturb +the singer, and remained without movement. The baffling carol went on +for some seconds, and for the only time in my life I wished I could put +a spell upon brook-babble, that I might the better hear.</p> + +<p>Cautiously I raised my glass to my eyes, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>examined the rocks across +the water, probably eight feet from me. Then arose again that strange +cry, and at the same instant my eye fell upon a tiny ledge, level with +the water, and perhaps six inches long, on which stood a small +fellow-creature in great excitement. He was engaged in what I should +call "curtsying"; that is, bending his leg joint, and dropping his plump +little body for a second, then bobbing up to his fullest height, +repeating the performance constantly,—looking eagerly out over the +water the while, evidently expecting somebody. This was undoubtedly the +bird's manner of begging for food,—a very pretty and well-bred way, +too, vastly superior to the impetuous calls and demands of some young +birds. The movement was "dipping," of course, and he was the dipper, or +ouzel baby, that had been cradled in that fountain-dashed nest by the +fall. He was not long out of it, either; for though fully dressed in his +modest slate-color, with white feet, and white edgings to many of his +feathers, he had hardly a vestige of a tail. He was a winsome baby, for +all that.</p> + +<p>While I studied the points of the stranger, breathless lest he should +disappear before my eyes, he suddenly burst out with the strange call I +had heard. It was clearly a cry of joy, of welcome, for out of the +water, up on to the ledge <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>beside him, scrambled at that moment a +grown-up ouzel. He gave one poke into the wide-open mouth of the infant, +then slipped back into the water, dropped down a foot or more, climbed +out upon another little shelf in the rock, and in a moment the song +arose. I watched the singer closely. The notes were so low and so +mingled with the roar of the brook that even then I should not have been +certain he was uttering them if I had not seen his throat and mouth +distinctly. The song was really exquisite, and as much in harmony with +the melody of the stream as the voice of the English sparrow is with the +city sounds among which he dwells, and the plaintive refrain of the +meadow-lark with the low-lying, silent fields where he spends his days.</p> + +<p>But little cared baby ouzel for music, however ravishing. What to his +mind was far more important was food,—in short, worms. His pretty +begging continued, and the daring notion of attempting a perilous +journey over the foot of water that separated him from his papa plainly +entered his head. He hurried back and forth on the brink with growing +agitation, and was seemingly about to plunge in, when the singer again +entered the water, brought up another morsel, and then stood on the +ledge beside the eager youngling, "dipping" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>occasionally himself, and +showing every time he winked—as did the little one, also—snowy-white +eyelids, in strange contrast to the dark slate-colored plumage.</p> + +<p>This aesthetic manner of discharging family duties, alternating food for +the body with rapture of the soul, continued for some time, probably +until the young bird had as much as was good for him; and then supplies +were cut off by the peremptory disappearance of the purveyor, who +plunged with the brook over the edge of a rock, and was seen no more.</p> + +<p>A little later a grown bird appeared, that I supposed at first was the +returning papa, but a few moments' observation convinced me that it was +the mother; partly because no song accompanied the work, but more +because of the entirely different manners of the new-comer. Filling the +crop of that importunate offspring of hers was, with this Quaker-dressed +dame, a serious business that left no time for rest or recreation. Two +charmed hours I sat absorbed, watching the most wonderful evolutions one +could believe possible to a creature in feathers.</p> + +<p>At the point where this little drama was enacted, the brook rushed over +a line of pebbles stretching from bank to bank, lying at all angles and +of all sizes, from six to ten inches in diameter. Then it ran five or +six feet quietly, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>around smooth rocks here and there above the water, +and ended by plunging over a mass of bowlders to a lower level. The bird +began by mounting one of those slippery rounded stones, and thrusting +her head under water up to her shoulders. Holding it there a few +seconds, apparently looking for something, she then jumped in where the +turmoil was maddest, picked an object from the bottom, and, returning to +the ledge, gave it to baby.</p> + +<p>The next moment, before I had recovered from my astonishment at this +feat of the ouzel, she ran directly up the falls (which, though not +high, were exceedingly lively), being half the time entirely under +water, and exactly as much at her ease as if no water were there; though +how she could stand in the rapid current, not to speak of walking +straight up against it, I could not understand.</p> + +<p>Often she threw herself into the stream, and let it carry her down, like +a duck, a foot or two, while she looked intently on the bottom, then +simply walked up out of it on to a stone. I could see that her plumage +was not in the least wet; a drop or two often rested on her back when +she came out, but it rolled off in a moment. She never even shook +herself. The food she brought to that eager youngling every few minutes +looked like minute worms, doubtless some insect larvæ.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>Several times this hard-working mother plunged into the brook where it +was shallow, ran or walked down it, half under water, and stopped on the +very brink of the lower fall, where one would think she could not even +stand, much less turn back and run up stream, which she did freely. This +looked to me almost as difficult as for a man to stand on the brink of +Niagara, with the water roaring and tumbling around him. Now and then +the bird ran or flew up, against the current, and entirely under water, +so that I could see her only as a dark-colored moving object, and then +came out all fresh and dry beside the baby, with a mouthful of food. I +should hardly dare to tell this, for fear of raising doubts of my +accuracy, if the same thing had not been seen and reported by others +before me. Her crowning action was to stand with one foot on each of two +stones in the middle and most uproarious part of the little fall, lean +far over, and deliberately pick something from a third stone.</p> + +<p>All this was no show performance, even no frolic, on the part of the +ouzel,—it was simply her every-day manner of providing for the needs of +that infant; and when she considered the duty discharged for the time, +she took her departure, very probably going at once to the care of a +second youngster who awaited her coming in some other niche in the +rocks.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>Finding himself alone again, and no more dainties coming his way, the +young dipper turned for entertainment to the swift-running streamlet. He +went down to the edge, stepping easily, never hopping; but when the +shallow edge of the water ran over his pretty white toes, he hastily +scampered back, as if afraid to venture farther. The clever little rogue +was only coquetting, however, for when he did at last plunge in he +showed himself very much at home. He easily crossed a turbulent bit of +the brook, and when he was carried down a little he scrambled without +trouble up on a stone. All the time, too, he was peering about after +food; and in fact it was plain that his begging was a mere pretense,—he +was perfectly well able to look out for himself. Through the whole of +these scenes not one of the birds, old or young, had paid the slightest +attention to me, though I was not ten feet from them.</p> + +<p>During the time I had been so absorbed in my delightful study of +domestic life in the ouzel family, the other interesting resident of the +cañon—the elusive cañon wren—had been forgotten. Now, as I noticed +that the day was waning, I thought of him again, and, tearing myself +away from the enticing picture, leaving the pretty baby to his own +amusements, I returned to the famous Pillars, and planted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>myself before +my rock, resolved to stay there till the bird appeared.</p> + +<p>No note came to encourage me, but, gazing steadily upward, after a time +I noticed something that looked like a fly running along the wall. +Bringing my glass to my eyes, I found that it was a bird, and one of the +white-throated family I so longed to see. She—for her silence and her +ways proclaimed her sex—was running about where appeared to be nothing +but perpendicular rock, flirting her tail after the manner of her race, +as happy and as unconcerned as if several thousand feet of sheer cliff +did not stretch between her and the brook at its foot. Her movements +were jerky and wren-like, and every few minutes she flitted into a tiny +crevice that seemed, from my point of view, hardly large enough to admit +even her minute form. She was dressed like the sweet singer of +yesterday, and the door she entered so familiarly was the same I had +seen him interested in. I guessed that she was his mate.</p> + +<p>The bird seemed to be gathering from the rock something which she +constantly carried into the hole. Possibly there were nestlings in that +snug and inaccessible home. To discover if my conjectures were true, I +redoubled my vigilance, though it was neck-breaking work, for so narrow +was the cañon at that point that I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>could not get far enough away for a +more level view.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the bustling little wren flew to the top of the wall, about +twenty feet above her front door, as it looked to me (it may have been +ten times that). Over the edge she instantly disappeared, but in a few +minutes returned to her occupation on the rock. Upon the earth beneath +her sky parlor she seemed never to turn her eyes, and I began to fear +that I should get no nearer view of the shy cliff-dweller.</p> + +<p>Finally, however, the caprice seized the tantalizing creature of +descending to the level of mortals, and the brook. Suddenly, while I +looked, she flung herself off her perch, and +fell—down—down—down—disappearing at last behind a clump of weeds at +the bottom. Was she killed? Had she been shot by some noiseless air-gun? +What had become of the tiny wren? I sprang to my feet, and hurried as +near as the intervening stream would allow, when lo! there she was, +lively and fussy as ever, running about at the foot of the cliff, +searching, searching all the time, ever and anon jumping up and pulling +from the rock something that clung to it.</p> + +<p>When the industrious bird had filled her beak with material that stuck +out on both sides, which I concluded to be some kind of rock moss, she +started back. Not up the face of that blank <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>wall, loaded as she was, +but by a strange path that she knew well, up which I watched her wending +her way to her proper level. This was a cleft between two solid bodies +of rock, where, it would seem, the two walls, in settling together for +their lifelong union, had broken and crumbled, and formed between them a +sort of crack, filled with unattached bowlders, with crevices and +passages, sometimes perpendicular, sometimes horizontal. Around and +through these was a zigzag road to the top, evidently as familiar to +that atom of a bird as Broadway is to some of her fellow-creatures, and +more easily traversed, for she had it all to herself.</p> + +<p>The wren flew about three feet to the first step of her upward passage, +then ran and clambered nearly all the rest of the way, darting behind +jutting rocks and coming out the other side, occasionally flying a foot +or two; now pausing as if for an observation, jerking her tail upright +and letting it drop back, wren-fashion, then starting afresh, and so +going on till she reached the level of her nest, when she flew across +the (apparent) forty or fifty feet, directly into the crevice. In a +minute she came out, and without an instant's pause flung herself down +again.</p> + +<p>I watched this curious process very closely. The wren seemed to close +her wings; certainly she did not use them, nor were they in the least +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>spread that I could detect. She came to the ground as if she were a +stone, as quickly and as directly as a stone would have fallen; but just +before touching the ground she spread her wings, and alighted lightly on +her feet. Then she fell to her labor of collecting what I suppose was +nesting material, and in a few minutes started up again by the +roundabout road to the top. Two hours or more, with gradually stiffening +neck, I spent with the wren, while she worked constantly and silently, +and not once during all that time did the singer appear.</p> + +<p>What the scattering parties of tourists, who from time to time passed +me, thought of a silent personage sitting in the cañon alone, staring +intently up at a blank wall of rock, I did not inquire. Perhaps that she +was a verse-writer seeking inspiration; more likely, however, a harmless +lunatic musing over her own fancies.</p> + +<p>I know well what I thought of them, from the glimpses that came to me as +I sat there; some climbing over the sharp-edged rocks, in tight boots, +delicate kid gloves, and immaculate traveling costumes, and panting for +breath in the seven thousand feet altitude; others uncomfortably seated +on the backs of the scraggy little burros, one of whom was so interested +in my proceedings that he walked directly up and thrust his long, +inquiring ears into my very face, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>spite of the resistance of his rider, +forcing me to rise and decline closer acquaintance. One of the +melancholy procession was loaded with a heavy camera, another equipped +with a butterfly net; this one bent under the weight of a big basket of +luncheon, and that one was burdened with satchels and wraps and +umbrellas. All were laboriously trying to enjoy themselves, but not one +lingered to look at the wonder and the beauty of the surroundings. I +pitied them, one and all, feeling obliged, as no doubt they did, to "see +the sights;" tramping the lovely cañon to-day, glancing neither to right +nor left; whirling through the Garden of the Gods to-morrow; painfully +climbing the next day the burro track to the Grave, the sacred point +where</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Upon the wind-blown mountain spot</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Chosen and loved as best by her,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Watched over by near sun and star,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Encompassed by wide skies, she sleeps."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Alas that one cannot quote with truth the remaining lines!</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"And not one jarring murmur creeps</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Up from the plain her rest to mar."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>For now, at the end of the toilsome passage, that place which should be +sacred to loving memories and tender thoughts, is desecrated by placards +and picnickers, defaced by advertisements, strewn with the +wrapping-paper, tin cans, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>and bottles with which the modern +globe-trotter marks his path through the beautiful and sacred scenes in +nature.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>In this uncomfortable way the majority of summer tourists spend day +after day, and week after week; going home tired out, with no new idea +gained, but happy to be able to say they have been here and there, +beheld this cañon, dined on that mountain, drank champagne in such a +pass, and struggled for breath on top of "the Peak." Their eyes may +indeed have passed over these scenes, but they have not <i>seen</i> one +thing.</p> + +<p>Far wiser is he (and more especially she) who seeks out a corner obscure +enough to escape the eyes of the "procession," settles himself in it, +and spends fruitful and delightful days alone with nature; never hasting +nor rushing; seeing and studying the wonders at hand, but avoiding +"parties" and "excursions;" valuing more a thorough knowledge of one +cañon than a glimpse of fifty; caring more to appreciate the beauties of +one mountain than to scramble over a whole range; getting into such +perfect harmony with nature that it is as if he had come into possession +of a new life; and from such an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>experience returning to his home +refreshed and invigorated in mind and body.</p> + +<p>Such were my reflections as the sun went down, and I felt, as I passed +out through the gate, that I ought to double my entrance fee, so much +had my life been enriched by that perfect day alone in Cheyenne Cañon.</p> + +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Since the above was written, I am glad to learn that, +because of this vandalism, the remains of "H. H." have been removed to +the cemetery at Colorado Springs.</p></div> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IN THE MIDDLE COUNTRY.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.0em;">For all the woods are shrill with stress of song,</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 11.0em;">Where soft wings flutter down to new-built nests,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.0em;">And turbulent sweet sounds are heard day long,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.0em;">As of innumerable marriage feasts.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">Charles Lotin Hildreth.</span></p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + +<h2>AT FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Four o'clock in the morning is the magical hour of the day. I do not +offer this sentiment as original, nor have I the slightest hope of +converting any one to my opinion; I merely state the fact.</p> + +<p>For years I had known it perfectly well; and fortified by my knowledge, +and bristling with good resolutions, I went out every June determined to +rise at that unnatural hour. Nothing is easier than to get up at four +o'clock—the night before; but when morning comes, the point of view is +changed, and all the arguments that arise in the mind are on the other +side; sleep is the one thing desirable. The case appeared hopeless. +Appeals from Philip drunk (with sleep) to Philip sober did not seem to +avail; for whatever the latter decreed, the former would surely disobey.</p> + +<p>But last June I found my spur; last summer I learned to get up with +eagerness, and stay up with delight. This was effected by means of an +alarm, set by the evening's wakefulness, that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>had no mercy on the +morning's sleepiness. The secret is—a present interest. What may be +going on somewhere out of sight and hearing in the world is a matter of +perfect indifference; what is heard and seen at the moment is an +argument that no one can resist.</p> + +<p>I got my hint by the accident of some shelled corn being left on the +ground before my window, and so attracting a four o'clock party, +consisting of blackbirds, blue jays, and doves. I noticed the corn, but +did not think of the pleasure it would give me, until the next morning, +when I was awakened about four o'clock by loud and excited talk in +blackbird tones, and hurried to the window, to find that I had half the +birds of the neighborhood before me.</p> + +<p>Most in number, and most noisy, were the common blackbirds, who just at +that time were feeding their young in a grove of evergreens back of the +house, where they had set up their nurseries in a crowd, as is their +custom. It is impossible to take this bird seriously, he is so +irresistibly ludicrous. His manners always suggest to me the peculiar +drollery of the negro; one of the old-fashioned sort, as we read of him, +and I promised myself some amusement from the study of him at short +range; I was not disappointed.</p> + +<p>My greeting as I took my seat at the open <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>window, unfortunately without +blinds to screen me, was most comical. A big pompous fellow turned his +wicked-looking white eye upon me, drew himself into a queer humped-up +position, with all his feathers on end, and apparently by a strong +effort <i>squeezed</i> out a husky and squeaky, yet loud cry of two notes, +which sounded exactly like "Squee-gee!"</p> + +<p>I was so astounded that I laughed in his face; at which he repeated it +with added emphasis, then turned his back on me, as unworthy of notice +away up in my window, and gave his undivided attention to a specially +large grain of corn which had been unearthed by a meek-looking neighbor, +and appropriated by him, in the most lordly manner. His bearing at the +moment was superb and stately in a degree of which only a bird who walks +is capable; one cannot be dignified who is obliged to hop.</p> + +<p>I thought his greeting was a personal one to show contempt—which it did +emphatically—to the human race in general, and to me in particular, but +I found later that it was the ordinary blackbird way of being offensive; +it was equivalent to "Get out!" or "Shut up!" or some other of the curt +and rude expressions in use by bigger folk than blackbirds.</p> + +<p>If a bird alighted too near one of these arrogant fellows on the ground, +he was met with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>same expletive, and if he was about the same size +he "talked back." The number and variety of utterances at their command +was astonishing; I was always being surprised with a new one. Now a +blackbird would fly across the lawn, making a noise exactly like a boy's +tin trumpet, and repeating it as long as he was within hearing, +regarding it, seemingly, as an exceptionally great feat. Again one would +seize a kernel of corn, burst out with a convulsive cry, as if he were +choking to death, and fly off with his prize, in imminent danger of his +life, as I could not but feel.</p> + +<p>The second morning a youngster came with his papa to the feast, and he +was droller, if possible, than his elders. He followed his parent +around, with head lowered and mouth wide open, fairly bawling in a loud +yet husky tone.</p> + +<p>The young blackbird does not appear in the glossy suit of his parents. +His coat is rusty in hue, and his eye is dark, as is proper in youth. He +is not at all backward in speaking his mind, and his sole desire at this +period of his life being food, he demands it with an energy and +persistence that usually insures success.</p> + +<p>In making close acquaintance with them, one cannot help longing to +prescribe to the whole blackbird family something to clear their +bronchial tubes; every tone is husky, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>student involuntarily +clears his own throat as he listens.</p> + +<p>I was surprised to find the blackbirds so beautiful. When the sun was +near setting, and struck across the grass its level rays, they were +really exquisite; their heads a brilliant metallic blue, and all back of +that rich bronze or purple, all over as glossy as satin. The little +dames are somewhat smaller, and a shade less finely dressed than their +bumptious mates; but that does not make them meek—far from it! and they +are not behind their partners in eccentric freaks. Sometimes one would +apparently attempt a joke by starting to fly, and passing so near the +head of one of the dignitaries on the ground that he would involuntarily +start and "duck" ingloriously. On one occasion a pair were working +peaceably together at the corn, when she flirted a bit of dirt so that +it flew toward him. He dashed furiously at her. She gave one hop which +took her about a foot away, and then it appeared that she coveted a +kernel of corn that was near him when the offense was given, for she +instantly jumped back and pounced upon it as if she expected to be +annihilated. He ran after her and drove her off, but she kept her prize.</p> + +<p>Eating one of those hard grains was no joke to anybody without teeth, +and it was a serious <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>affair to one of the blackbirds. He took it into +his beak, dropped both head and tail, and gave his mind to the cracking +of the sweet morsel. At this time he particularly disliked to be +disturbed, and the only time I saw one rude to a youngster was when +struggling with this difficulty. While feeding the nestlings, they broke +the kernels into bits, picked up all the pieces, filling the beak the +whole length, and then flew off with them.</p> + +<p>But they were not always allowed to keep the whole kernel. They were +generally attended while on the ground by a little party of thieves, +ready and waiting to snatch any morsel that was dropped. These were, of +course, the English sparrows. They could not break corn, but they liked +it for all that, so they used their wits to secure it, and of sharpness +these street birds have no lack. The moment a blackbird alighted on the +grass, a sparrow or two came down beside him, and lingered around, +watching eagerly. Whenever a crumb dropped, one rushed in and snatched +it, and instantly flew from the wrath to come.</p> + +<p>The sparrows had not been at this long before some of the wise +blackbirds saw through it, and resented it with proper spirit. One of +them would turn savagely after the sparrow who followed him, and the +knowing rascal <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>always took his departure. It was amusing to see a +blackbird working seriously on a grain, all his faculties absorbed in +the solemn question whether he should succeed in cracking his nut, while +two or three feathered pilferers stood as near as they dared, anxiously +waiting till the great work should be accomplished, the hard shell +should yield, and some bits should fall.</p> + +<p>About five days after the feast was spread, the young came out in force, +often two of them following one adult about on the grass, running after +him so closely that he could hardly get a chance to break up the kernel; +indeed, he often had to fly to a tree to prepare the mouthfuls for them. +The young blackbird has not the slightest repose of manner; nor, for +that matter, has the old one either. The grown-ups treated the young +well, almost always; they never "squee-gee'd" at them, never touched +them in any way, notwithstanding they were so insistent in begging that +they would chase an adult bird across the grass, calling madly all the +time, and fairly force him to fly away to get rid of them.</p> + +<p>Once two young ones got possession of the only spot where corn was left, +and so tormented their elders who came that they had to dash in and +snatch a kernel when they wanted one. One of the old ones danced around +these two babies in a little circle a foot in diameter, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>infants +turning as he moved, and ever presenting open beaks to him. It was one +of the funniest exhibitions I ever saw. After going around half a dozen +times, the baffled blackbird flew away without a taste.</p> + +<p>When the two had driven every one else off the ground by their +importunities, one of them plucked up spirit to try managing the corn +for himself. Like a little man he stopped bawling, and began exercising +his strength on the sweet grain. Upon this his neighbor, instead of +following his example, began to beg of him! fluttering his wings, +putting up his beak, and almost pulling the corn out of the mouth of the +poor little fellow struggling with his first kernel!</p> + +<p>Sometimes a young one drove his parent all over a tree with his +supplications. Higher and higher would go the persecuted, with his +tormentor scrambling, and half flying after, till the elder absolutely +flew away, much put out.</p> + +<p>Long before this time the corn had been used up. But I could not bear to +lose my morning entertainment, for all these things took place between +four and six <span class="smcap">A. M.</span>—so I made a trip to the village, and bought +a bag of the much desired dainty, some handfuls of which I scattered +every night after birds were abed, ready for the sunrise show. +Blackbirds were not the only guests at the feast; there were the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>doves,—mourning, or wood-doves,—who dropped to the grass, serene as a +summer morning, walking around in their small red boots, with mincing +steps and fussy little bows. Blue jays, too, came in plenty, selected +each his grain and flew away with it. Robins, seeing all the excitement, +came over from their regular hunting-ground, but never finding anything +so attractive as worms, they soon left.</p> + +<p>The corn feast wound up with a droll excitement. One day a child from +the house took her doll out in the grass to play, set it up against a +tree trunk, and left it there. It had long light hair which stood out +around the head, and it did look rather uncanny, but it was amusing to +see the consternation it caused. Blue jays came to trees near by, and +talked in low tones to each other; then one after another swooped down +toward it; then they all squawked at it, and finding this of no avail, +they left in a body.</p> + +<p>The robins approached cautiously, two of them, calling constantly, "he! +he! he!" One was determined not to be afraid, and came nearer and +nearer, till within about a foot of the strange object and behind it, +when suddenly he started as though shot, jumped back, and both flew in a +panic.</p> + +<p>Soon after this a red-headed woodpecker alighted on the trunk of the +elm, preparatory <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>to helping himself to a grain of corn. The moment his +eyes fell upon madam of the fluffy hair, he burst out with a loud, rapid +woodpecker "chitter," gradually growing higher in key and louder in +tone. The blue jay flew down from the nest across the yard, and another +came from behind the house; both perched near and stared at him, and +then began to talk in low tones. A robin came hastily over and gazed at +the usually silent red-head, and apparently it was to all as strange a +performance as it was to me, or possibly they recognized that it was a +cry of warning against danger.</p> + +<p>After he had us all aroused, the bird suddenly fell to silence, and +resumed his ordinary manner, but he did not go after corn. I suppose the +harangue was addressed to the doll.</p> + +<p>That was the last scene in the first act of the corn feast, for the +blackbirds had become so numerous and so noisy that they made morning +hideous to the whole household, and I stopped the supplies for several +days, till these birds ceased to expect anything, and so came no more, +and then I spread a fresh breakfast-table for more interesting guests, +whose manners and customs I studied for weeks.</p> + +<p>I was invariably startled wide awake on these mornings by a bird note, +and sprang up, to see at one glance that</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Day had awakened all things that be,</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">The lark and the thrush, and the swallow free,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and that my party was already assembled; one or two cardinals—or +redbirds, as they are often called—on the grass, with the usual +attendance of English sparrows, and the red-headed woodpecker in the +elm, surveying the lawn, and considering which of the trespassers he +should fall upon. It was the work of one minute to get into my wraps and +seat myself, with opera glass, at the wide-open window.</p> + +<p>My first discovery made, however, during the blackbird reign, was that +four o'clock is the most lovely part of the day. All the dust of human +affairs having settled during the hours of sleep, the air is fresh and +sweet, as if just made; and generally, just before sunrise, the foliage +is at perfect rest,—the repose of night still lingering, the world of +nature as well as of men still sleeping.</p> + +<p>The first thing one naturally looks for, as birds begin to waken, is a +morning chorus of song. True bird-lovers, indeed, long for it with a +longing that cannot be told. But alas, every year the chorus is +withdrawing more and more to the woods, every year it is harder to find +a place where English sparrows are not in possession; and it is one of +the most grievous sins of that bird that he spoils the song, even when +he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>does not succeed in driving out the singer. A running accompaniment +of harsh and interminable squawks overpowers the music of meadow-lark +and robin, and the glorious song of the thrush is fairly murdered by it. +One could almost forgive the sparrow his other crimes, if he would only +lie abed in the morning; if he would occasionally listen, and not +forever break the peace of the opening day with his vulgar brawling. But +the subject of English sparrows is maddening to a lover of native birds; +let us not defile the magic hour by considering it.</p> + +<p>The most obvious resident of the neighborhood, at four o'clock in the +morning, was always the golden-winged woodpecker, or flicker. Though he +scorned the breakfast I offered, having no vegetarian proclivities, he +did not refuse me his presence. I found him a character, and an amusing +study, and I never saw his tribe so numerous and so much at home.</p> + +<p>Though largest in size of my four o'clock birds, and most fully +represented (always excepting the English sparrows), the golden-wing was +not in command. The autocrat of the hour, the reigning power, was quite +a different personage, although belonging to the woodpecker family. It +was a red-headed woodpecker who assumed to own the lawn and be master of +the feast. This individual was marked by a defect <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>in plumage, and had +been a regular caller since the morning of my arrival. During the +blackbird supremacy over the corn supply he had been hardly more than a +spectator, coming to the trunk of the elm and surveying the assembly of +blue jays, doves, blackbirds, and sparrows with interest, as one looks +down upon a herd with whom he has nothing in common. But when those +birds departed, and the visitors were of a different character, mostly +cardinals, with an occasional blue jay, he at once took the place he +felt belonged to him—that of dictator.</p> + +<p>The Virginia cardinal, a genuine F. F. V., and a regular attendant at my +corn breakfast, was a subject of special study with me; indeed, it was +largely on his account that I had set up my tent in that part of the +world. I had all my life known him as a tenant of cages, and it struck +me at first as very odd to see him flying about freely, like other wild +birds. No one, it seemed to me, ever looked so out of place as this +fellow of elegant manners, aristocratic crest, and brilliant dress, +hopping about on the ground with his exaggerated little hops, tail held +stiffly up out of harm's way, and uttering sharp "tsips." One could not +help the feeling that he was altogether too fine for this common +work-a-day existence; that he was intended for show; and that a gilded +cage was his proper <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>abiding-place, with a retinue of human servants to +minister to his comfort. Yet he was modest and unassuming, and appeared +really to enjoy his life of hard work; varying his struggles with a +kernel of hard corn on the ground, where his color shone out like a +flower against the green, with a rest on a spruce-tree, where</p> + +<p class="cen">"Like a living jewel he sits and sings;"</p> + +<p>and when he had finished his frugal meal, departing, if nothing hurried +him, with a graceful, loitering flight, in which each wing-beat seemed +to carry him but a few inches forward, and leave his body poised, an +infinitesimal second for another beat. With much noise of fluttering +wings he would start for some point, but appear not to care much whether +he got there. He was never in haste unless there was something to hurry +him, in which he differed greatly from some of the fidgety, restless +personages I have known among the feathered folk.</p> + +<p>The woodpecker's way of making himself disagreeable to this +distinguished guest, was to keep watch from his tree (an elm overlooking +the supply of corn) till he came to eat, and then fly down, aiming for +exactly the spot occupied by the bird on the ground. No one, however +brave, could help "getting out from under," when he saw this tricolored +whirlwind descending upon him. The cardinal always jumped <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>aside, then +drew himself up, crest erect, tail held at an angle of forty-five +degrees, and faced the woodpecker, calm, but prepared to stand up for +his right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of his breakfast. Sometimes +they had a little set-to, with beaks not more than three inches apart, +the woodpecker making feints of rushing upon his <i>vis-à-vis</i>, and the +cardinal jumping up ready to clinch, if a fight became necessary. It +never went quite so far as that, though they glared at each other, and +the cardinal uttered a little whispered "ha!" every time he sprang up.</p> + +<p>The Virginian's deliberate manner of eating made peace important to him. +He took a grain of hard corn in his mouth, lengthwise; then working his +sharp-edged beak, he soon succeeded in cutting the shell of the kernel +through its whole length. From this he went on turning it with his +tongue, and still cutting with his beak, till the whole shell rolled out +of the side of his mouth in one long piece, completely cleared from its +savory contents.</p> + +<p>The red-head, on the contrary, took his grain of corn to a branch, or +sometimes to the trunk of a tree, where he sought a suitable crevice in +the bark or in a crotch, placed his kernel, hammered it well in till +firm and safe, and then proceeded to pick off pieces and eat them +daintily, one by one. Sometimes he left a kernel <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>there, and I saw how +firmly it was wedged in, when the English sparrow discovered his store, +fell upon it, and dug it out. It was a good deal of work for a +strong-billed, persistent sparrow to dislodge a grain thus placed. But +of course he never gave up till he could carry it off, probably because +he saw that some one valued it; for since he was unable to crack a grain +that was whole, it must have been useless to him. Sometimes the +woodpecker wedged the kernel into a crevice in the bark of the trunk, +then broke it up, and packed the pieces away in other niches; and I have +seen an English sparrow go carefully over the trunk, picking out and +eating these tidbits. That, or something else, has taught sparrows to +climb tree trunks, which they do, in the neighborhood I speak of, with +as much ease as a woodpecker. I have repeatedly seen them go the whole +length of a tall elm trunk; proceeding by little hops, aided by the +wings, and using the tail for support almost as handily as a woodpecker +himself.</p> + +<p>The red-head's assumption of being monarch of all he surveyed did not +end with the breakfast-table; he seemed to consider himself guardian and +protector of the whole place. One evening I was drawn far down on the +lawn by a peculiar cry of his. It began with a singular performance +which I have already described, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>a loud, rapid "chit-it-it-it-it," +increasing in volume and rising in pitch, as though he were working +himself up to some deed of desperation. In a few minutes, however, he +appeared to get his feelings under control, and dropped to a single-note +cry, often repeated. It differed widely from his loud call, "wok! wok! +wok!" still more from the husky tones of his conversation with others of +his kind; neither was it like the war-cries with which he intimated to +another bird that he was not invited to breakfast. I thought there must +be trouble brewing, especially as mingled with it was an occasional +excited "pe-auk!" of a flicker. When I reached the spot, I found a +curious party, consisting of two doves and three flickers, assembled on +one small tree, with the woodpecker on an upper branch, as though +addressing his remarks to them.</p> + +<p>As I drew near the scene of the excitement, the doves flew, and then the +golden-wings; but the red-head held his ground, though he stopped his +cries when he saw help coming. In vain I looked about for the cause of +the row; everything was serene. It was a beautiful quiet evening, and +not a child, nor a dog, nor anything in sight to make trouble. The tree +stood quite by itself, in the midst of grass that knew not the clatter +of the lawn-mower.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>I stood still and waited; and I had my reward, for after a few minutes' +silence I saw a pair of ears, and then a head, cautiously lifted above +the grass, about fifteen feet from the tree. The mystery was solved; it +was a cat, whom all birds know as a creature who will bear watching when +prowling around the haunts of bird families. I am fond of pussy, but I +deprecate her taste for game, as I do that of some other hunters, wiser +if not better than she. I invited her to leave this place, where she +plainly was unwelcome, by an emphatic "scat!" and a stick tossed her +way. She instantly dropped into the grass and was lost to view; and as +the woodpecker, whose eyes were sharper and his position better than +mine, said no more, I concluded she had taken the hint and departed.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="IX" id="IX"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>IX.</h2> + +<h2>THE LITTLE REDBIRDS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>When the little redbirds began to visit the lawn there were exciting +times. At first they ventured only to the trees overlooking it; and the +gayly dressed father who had them in charge reminded me of nothing so +much as a fussy young mother. He was alert to the tips of his toes, and +excited, as if the whole world was thirsting for the life of those +frowzy-headed youngsters in the maple. His manner intimated that nobody +ever had birdlings before; indeed, that there never had been, or could +be, just such a production as that young family behind the leaves. While +they were there, he flirted his tail, jerked himself around, crest +standing sharply up, and in every way showed his sense of importance and +responsibility.</p> + +<p>As for the young ones, after they had been hopping about the branches a +week or so, and papa had grown less madly anxious if one looked at them, +they appeared bright and spirited, dressed in the subdued and tasteful +hues of their mother, with pert little crests and dark <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>beaks. They were +not allowed on the grass, and they waited patiently on the tree while +their provider shelled a kernel and took it up to them. The cardinal +baby I found to be a self-respecting individual, who generally waits in +patience his parents' pleasure, though he is not too often fed. He is +not bumptious nor self-assertive, like many others; he rarely teases, +and is altogether a well-mannered and proper young person. After a +while, as the youngsters learned strength and speed on the wing, they +came to the table with the grown-ups, and then I saw there were three +spruce young redbirds, all under the care of their gorgeous papa.</p> + +<p>No sooner did they appear on the ground than trouble began with the +English-sparrow tribe. The grievance of these birds was that they could +not manage the tough kernels. They were just as hungry as anybody, and +just as well-disposed toward corn, but they had not sufficient strength +of beak to break it. They did not, however, go without corn, for all +that. Their game was the not uncommon one of availing themselves of the +labor of others; they invited themselves to everybody's breakfast-table, +though, to be sure, they had to watch their chances in order to secure a +morsel, and escape the wrath of the owner thereof.</p> + +<p>The cardinal was at first a specially easy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>victim to this plot. He took +the whole matter most solemnly, and was so absorbed in the work, that if +a bit dropped, in the process of separating it from the shell, as often +happened, he did not concern himself about it till he had finished what +he had in his mouth, and then he turned one great eye on the ground, for +the fragments which had long before been snatched by sparrows and gone +down sparrow throats. The surprise and the solemn stare with which he +"could hardly believe his eyes" were exceedingly droll. After a while he +saw through their little game, and took to watching, and when a sparrow +appeared too much interested in his operations, he made a feint of going +for him, which warned the gamin that he would better look out for +himself.</p> + +<p>It did not take these sharp fellows long to discover that the young +redbird was the easier prey, and soon every youngster on the ground was +attended by a sparrow or two, ready to seize upon any fragment that +fell. The parent's way of feeding was to shell a kernel and then give it +to one of the little ones, who broke it up and ate it. From waiting for +fallen bits, the sparrows, never being repulsed, grew bolder, and +finally went so far as actually to snatch the corn out of the young +cardinals' beaks. Again and again did I see this performance: a sparrow +grab and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>run (or fly), leaving the baby astonished and dazed, looking +as if he did not know exactly what had happened, but sure he was in some +way bereaved.</p> + +<p>One day, while the cardinal family were eating on the grass, the mother +of the brood came to a tree near by. At once her gallant spouse flew up +there and offered her the mouthful he had just prepared, then returned +to his duties. She was rarely seen on the lawn, and I judged that she +was sitting again.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, when the youngsters were alone on the ground, I heard a +little snatch of song, two or three notes, a musical word or two of very +sweet quality. The woodpecker, autocrat though he assumed to be, did not +at first interfere with the young birds; but as they became more and +more independent and grown up, he began to consider them fair game, and +to come down on them with a rush that scattered them; not far, however; +they were brave little fellows.</p> + +<p>At last, after four weeks of close attention, the cardinal made up his +mind that his young folk were babies no longer, and that they were able +to feed themselves. I was interested to see his manner of intimating to +his young hopefuls that they had reached their majority. When one begged +of him, in his gentle way, the parent turned suddenly and gave him a +slight push. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>The urchin understood, and moved a little farther off; but +perhaps the next time he asked he would be fed. They learned the lesson, +however, and in less than two days from the first hint they became +almost entirely independent.</p> + +<p>One morning the whole family happened to meet at table. The mother came +first, and then the three young ones, all of whom were trying their best +to feed themselves. At last came their "natural provider;" and one of +the juveniles, who found the grains almost unmanageable, could not help +begging of him. He gently but firmly drove the pleader away, as if he +said, "My son, you are big enough to feed yourself." The little one +turned, but did not go; he stood with his back toward his parent, and +wings still fluttering. Then papa flew to a low branch of the +spruce-tree, and instantly the infant followed him, still begging with +quivering wings. Suddenly the elder turned, and I expected to see him +annihilate that beggar, but, to my surprise, he fed him! He could not +hold out against him! He had been playing the stern parent, but could +not keep it up. It was a very pretty and very human-looking performance.</p> + +<p>A day or two after the family had learned to take care of themselves, +the original pair, the parents of the pretty brood, came and went +together to the field, while the younglings <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>appeared sometimes in a +little flock, and sometimes one alone; and from that time they were to +be rated as grown-up and educated cardinals. A brighter or prettier trio +I have not seen. I am almost positive there was but one family of +cardinals on the place; and if I am right, those youngsters had been +four weeks out of the nest before they took charge of their own food +supply. From what I have seen in the case of other young birds, I have +no doubt that is the fact.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="X" id="X"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>X.</h2> + +<h2>THE CARDINAL'S NEST.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>While I had been studying four o'clock manners, grave and gay, other +things had happened. Most delightful, perhaps, was my acquaintance with +a cardinal family at home. From the first I had looked for a nest, and +had suffered two or three disappointments. One pair flaunted their +intentions by appearing on a tree before my window, "tsipping" with all +their might; she with her beak full of hay from the lawn below; he, +eager and devoted, assisting by his presence. The important and +consequential manner of a bird with building material in mouth is +amusing. She has no doubt that what she is about to do is the very most +momentous fact in the "Sublime Now" (as some college youth has it). Of +course I dropped everything and tried to follow the pair, at a distance +great enough not to disturb them, yet to keep in sight at least the +direction they took, for they are shy birds, and do not like to be spied +upon. But I could not have gauged my distance properly; for, though I +thought I knew the exact cedar-tree she had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>chosen, I found, to my +dismay and regret afterward, that no sign of a nest was there, or +thereabout.</p> + +<p>Another pair went farther, and held out even more delusive hopes; they +actually built a nest in a neighbor's yard, the family in the house +maintaining an appearance of the utmost indifference, so as not to alarm +the birds till they were committed to that nest. For so little does +madam regard the labor of building, and so fickle is she in her fancies, +that she thinks nothing of preparing at least two nests before she +settles on one. The nest was made on a big branch of cedar, perhaps +seven feet from the ground,—a rough affair, as this bird always makes. +In it she even placed an egg, and then, for some undiscovered reason, it +was abandoned, and they took their domestic joys and sorrows elsewhere.</p> + +<p>But now, at last, word came to me of an occupied nest to be seen at a +certain house, and I started at once for it. It was up a shady country +lane, with a meadow-lark field on one side, and a bobolink meadow on the +other. The lark mounted the fence, and delivered his strange sputtering +cry,—the first I had ever heard from him (or her, for I believe this is +the female's utterance). But the dear little bobolink soared around my +head, and let fall his happy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>trills; then suddenly, as Lowell +delightfully pictures him,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">"Remembering duty, in mid-quaver stops,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">Just ere he sweeps o'er rapture's tremulous brink,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">And 'twixt the winrows most demurely drops,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">A decorous bird of business, who provides</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">For his brown mate and fledglings six besides,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">And looks from right to left, a farmer mid his crops."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Nothing less attractive than a cardinal family could draw me away from +these rival allurements, but I went on.</p> + +<p>The cardinal's bower was the prettiest of the summer, built in a +climbing rose which ran riot over a trellis beside a kitchen door. The +vine was loaded with buds just beginning to unfold their green wraps to +flood the place with beauty and fragrance, and the nest was so carefully +tucked away behind the leaves that it could not be seen from the front. +Whether from confidence in the two or three residents of the cottage, or +because the house was alone so many hours of the day,—the occupants +being students, and absent most of the time,—the birds had taken no +account of a window which opened almost behind them. From that window +one could look into, and touch, if he desired, the little family. But no +one who lived there did desire (though I wish to record that one was a +boy of twelve or fourteen, who had been taught respect for the lives +even of birds), and these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>birds became so accustomed to their human +observers that they paid no attention to them.</p> + +<p>The female cardinal is so dainty in looks and manner, so delicate in all +her ways, that one naturally expects her to build at least a neat and +comely nest, and I was surprised to see a rough-looking affair, similar +to the one already mentioned. This might be, in her case, because it was +the third nest she had built that summer. One had been used for the +first brood. The second had been seized and appropriated to their own +use by another pair of birds. (As this was told me, and I cannot vouch +for it, I shall not name the alleged thief.) This, the third, was made +of twigs and fibres of bark,—or what looked like that,—and was +strongly stayed to the rose stems, the largest of which was not bigger +than my little finger, and most of them much smaller.</p> + +<p>On my second visit I was invited into the kitchen to see the family in +the rosebush. It appeared that this was "coming-off" day, and one little +cardinal had already taken his fate in his hands when I arrived, soon +after breakfast. He had progressed on the journey of life about one +foot; and a mere dot of a fellow he looked beside his parents, with a +downy fuzz on his head, which surrounded it like a halo, and no sign of +a crest. The three nestlings still at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>home were very restless, +crowding, and almost pushing each other out. They could well spare their +elder brother, for before he left he had walked all over them at his +pleasure; and how he could help it in those close quarters I do not see.</p> + +<p>While I looked on, papa came with provisions. At one time the food +consisted of green worms about twice as large as a common knitting +needle. Three or four of them he held crosswise of his beak, and gave +one to each nestling. The next course was a big white grub, which he did +not divide, but gave to one, who had considerable difficulty in +swallowing it.</p> + +<p>I said the birds did not notice the family, but they very quickly +recognized me as a stranger. They stood and glared at me in the cardinal +way, and uttered some sharp remonstrance; but business was pressing, and +I was unobtrusive, so they concluded to ignore me.</p> + +<p>The advent of the first redbird baby seemed to give much pleasure, for +the head of the family sang a good deal in the intervals of feeding; and +both of the pair appeared very happy over it, often alighting beside the +wanderer, evidently to encourage him, for they did not always feed. The +youngster, after an hour, perhaps, flew about ten feet to a peach-tree, +where he struggled violently, and nearly fell before he secured <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>a hold +on a twig. Both parents flew to his assistance, but he did not fall, and +soon after he flew to a grape trellis, and, with a little clambering, to +a stem of the vine, where he seemed pleased to stay,—perhaps because +this overlooked the garden whence came all his food.</p> + +<p>I stayed two or three hours with the little family, and then left them; +and when I appeared the next morning all were gone from the nest. I +heard the gentle cries of young redbirds all around, but did not try to +look them up, both because I did not want to worry the parents, and +because I had already made acquaintance with young cardinals in my four +o'clock studies.</p> + +<p>The place this discerning pair of birds had selected in which to +establish themselves was one of the most charming nooks in the vicinity. +Kept free from English sparrows (by persistently destroying their +nests), and having but a small and quiet family, it was the delight of +cardinals and catbirds. Without taking pains to look for them, one might +see the nests of two catbirds, two wood doves, a robin or two, and +others; and there were beside, thickets, the delight of many birds, and +a row of spruces so close that a whole flock might have nested there in +security. In that spot "the quaintly discontinuous lays" of the catbird +were in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>perfection; one song especially was the best I ever heard, +being louder and more clear than catbirds usually sing.</p> + +<p>As I turned to leave the grounds, the relieved parent, who had not +relished my interest in his little folk, mounted a branch, and,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Like a pomegranate flower</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">In the dark foliage of the cedar-tree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Shone out and sang for me."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>And thus I left him.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XI" id="XI"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XI.</h2> + +<h2>LITTLE BOY BLUE.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="cen">"The crested blue jay flitting swift."</p> + + +<p>To know the little boy blue in his domestic life had been my desire for +years. In vain did I search far and wide for a nest, till it began to +look almost as if the bird intentionally avoided me. I went to New +England, and blue jays disappeared as if by magic; I turned my steps to +the Rocky Mountains, and the whole tribe betook itself to the +inaccessible hills. In despair I abandoned the search, and set up my +tent in the middle country, without a thought of the bonny blue bird. +One June morning I seated myself by my window, which looked out upon a +goodly stretch of lawn dotted with trees of many kinds, and behold the +long-desired object right before my eyes!</p> + +<p>The blue jay himself pointed it out to me; unconsciously, however, for +he did not notice me in my distant window. From the ground, where I was +looking at him, he flew directly to a pine-tree about thirty feet high, +and there, near the top, sat his mate on her nest. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>leaned over her +tenderly; she fluttered her wings and opened her mouth, and he dropped +into it the tidbit he had brought. Then she stepped to a branch on one +side, and he proceeded to attend to the wants of the young family, too +small as yet to appear above the edge.</p> + +<p>The pine-tree, which from this moment became of absorbing interest, was +so far from my window that the birds never thought of me as an observer, +and yet so near that with my glass I could see them perfectly. It was +also exactly before a thick-foliaged maple, that formed a background +against which I could watch the life of the nest, wherever the sunlight +fell, and whatever the condition of the sky; so happily was placed my +blue jay household.</p> + +<p>I observed at once that the jay was very gallant and attentive to his +spouse. The first mouthful was for her, even when babies grew clamorous, +and she took her share of the work of feeding. Nor did he omit this +little politeness when they went to the nest together, both presumably +with food for the nestlings. She was a devoted mother, brooding her +bantlings for hours every day, till they were so big that it was hard to +crowd them back into the cradle; and he was an equally faithful father, +working from four o'clock in the morning till after dusk, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>a good deal +of the time feeding the whole family. I acquired a new respect for +<i>Cyanocitta cristata</i>.</p> + +<p>I had not watched the blue jays long before I was struck with the +peculiar character of the feathered world about me, the strange absence +of small birds. The neighbors were blackbirds (purple grackles), +Carolina doves, golden-winged and red-headed woodpeckers, robins and +cardinal grosbeaks, and of course English sparrows,—all large birds, +able to hold their own by force of arms, as it were, except the +foreigner, who maintained his position by impudence and union, a mob +being his weapon of offense and defense. Beside him no small bird lived +in the vicinity. No vireo hung there her dainty cup, while her mate +preached his interminable sermons from the trees about; no phœbe +shouted his woes to an unsympathizing world; no sweet-voiced goldfinch +poured out his joyous soul; not a song-sparrow tuned his little lay +within our borders. Unseen of men, but no doubt sharply defined to +clearer senses than ours, was a line barring them out.</p> + +<p>Who was responsible for this state of things? Could it be the one pair +of jays in the pine, or the colony of blackbirds the other side of the +house? Should we characterize it as a blue jay neighborhood or a +blackbird neighborhood? The place was well policed, certainly; robins +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>and blue jays united in that work, though their relations with each +other bore the character of an armed neutrality, always ready for a few +hot words and a little bluster, but never really coming to blows. We +never had the pleasure of seeing a stranger among us. We might hear him +approaching, nearer and nearer, till, just as the eager listener fancied +he might alight in sight, there would burst upon the air the screech of +a jay or the war-cry of a robin, accompanied by the precipitate flight +of the whole clan, and away would go the stranger in a most sensational +manner, followed by outcries and clamor enough to drive off an army of +feathered brigands. This neighborhood, if the accounts of his character +are to be credited, should be the congenial home of the +kingbird,—tyrant flycatcher he is named; but as a matter of fact, not +only were the smaller flycatchers conspicuous by their absence, but the +king himself was never seen, and the flying tribes of the insect world, +so far as dull-eyed mortals could see, grew and flourished.</p> + +<p>Close scrutiny of every movement of wings, however, revealed one thing, +namely, that any small bird who appeared within our precincts was +instantly, without hesitation, and equally without unusual noise or +special publicity, driven out by the English sparrow; and I became +convinced that he, and he alone, was responsible for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>the presence of +none but large birds, who could defy him.</p> + +<p>One of the prettiest sights about the pine-tree homestead was the way +the jay went up to it. He never imitated the easy style of his mate, who +simply flew to a branch below the three that held her treasure, and +hopped up the last step. Not he; not so would his knightly soul mount to +the castle of his sweetheart and his babies. He alighted much lower, +often at the foot of the tree, and passed jauntily up the winding way +that led to them, hopping from branch to branch, pausing on each, and +circling the trunk as he went; now showing his trim violet-blue coat, +now his demure Quaker-drab vest and black necklace; and so he ascended +his spiral stair.</p> + +<p>There is nothing demure about the blue jay, let me hasten to say, except +his vest; there is no pretension about him. He does not go around with +the meek manners of the dove, and then let his angry passions rise, in +spite of his reputation, as does that "meek and gentle" fellow-creature +on occasion. The blue jay takes his life with the utmost seriousness, +however it may strike a looker-on. While his helpmeet is on the nest, it +is, according to the blue jay code, his duty, as well as it is plainly +his pleasure, to provide her with food, which consequently he does; +later, it is his province not only to feed, but to protect <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>the family, +which also he accomplishes with much noise and bluster. Before the young +are out comes his hardest task, keeping the secret of the nest, which +obliges him to control his naturally boisterous tendencies; but even in +this he is successful, as I saw in the case of a bird whose mate was +sitting in an apple-tree close beside a house. There, he was the soul of +discretion, and so subdued in manner that one might be in the vicinity +all day and never suspect the presence of either. All the comings and +goings took place in silence, over the top of the tree, and I have +watched the nest an hour at a time without being able to see a sign of +its occupancy, except the one thing a sitting bird cannot hide, the +tail. And, by the way, how providential—from the bird student's point +of view—that birds have tails! They can, it is true, be narrowed to the +width of one feather and laid against a convenient twig, but they cannot +be wholly suppressed, nor drawn down out of sight into the nest with the +rest of the body.</p> + +<p>When the young blue jays begin to speak for themselves, and their +vigilant protector feels that the precious secret can no longer be kept, +then he arouses the neighborhood with the announcement that here is a +nest he is bound to protect with his life; that he is engaged in +performing his most solemn duty, and will not be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>disturbed. His air is +that so familiar in bigger folk, of daring the whole world to "knock a +chip off his shoulder," and he goes about with an appearance of +important business on hand very droll to see.</p> + +<p>The bearing of the mother of the pine-tree brood was somewhat different +from that of her mate, and by their manners only could the pair be +distinguished. Whatever may be Nature's reason for dressing the sexes +unlike each other in the feathered world,—which I will leave for the +wise heads to settle,—it is certainly an immense advantage to the +looker-on in birddom. When a pair are facsimiles of each other, as are +the jays, it requires the closest observation to tell them apart; +indeed, unless there is some defect in plumage, which is not uncommon, +it is necessary to penetrate their personal characteristics, to become +familiar with their idiosyncrasies of habit and manner. In the pine-tree +family, the mother had neither the presence of mind nor the bluster of +the partner of her joys. When I came too near the nest tree, she greeted +me with a plaintive cry, a sort of "craw! craw!" at the same time +"jouncing" herself violently, thus protesting against my intrusion; +while he saluted me with squawks that made the welkin ring. Neither of +them paid any attention to me, so long as I remained upon a stationary +bench not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>far from their tree; they were used to seeing people in that +place, and did not mind them. It was the unexpected that they resented. +Having established our habits, birds in general insist that we shall +govern ourselves by them, and not depart from our accustomed orbit.</p> + +<p>On near acquaintance, I found the jay possessed of a vocabulary more +copious than that of any other bird I know, though the flicker does not +lack variety of expression. When some aspiring scientist is ready to +study the language of birds, I advise him to experiment with the blue +jay. He is exceedingly voluble, always ready to talk, and not in the +least backward in exhibiting his accomplishments. The low-toned, +plaintive sounding conversation of the jays with each other, not only +beside the nest, but when flying together or apart, or in brief +interviews in the lilac bush, pleased me especially, because it was +exactly the same prattle that a pet blue jay was accustomed to address +to me; and it confirmed what I had always believed from his manner, that +it was his most loving and intimate expression, the tone in which he +addresses his best beloved.</p> + +<p>Beside the well-known squawk, which Thoreau aptly calls "the brazen +trump of the impatient jay," the shouts and calls and war-cries of the +bird can hardly be numbered, and I have no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>doubt each has its definite +meaning. More rarely may be heard a clear and musical two-note cry, +sounding like "ke-lo! ke-lo!" This seems to be something special in the +jay language, for not only is it peculiar and quite unlike every other +utterance, but I never saw the bird when he delivered it, and I was long +in tracing it home to him. Aside from the cries of war and victory, jays +have a great variety of notes of distress; they can put more anguish and +despair into their tones than any other living creature of my +acquaintance. Some, indeed, are so moving that the sympathetic hearer is +sure that, at the very least, the mother's offspring are being murdered +before her eyes; and on rushing out, prepared to risk his life in their +defense, he finds, perhaps, that a child has strayed near the tree, or +something equally dreadful has occurred. Jays have no idea of relative +values; they could not make more ado over a heart-breaking calamity than +they do over a slight annoyance. Some of their cries, notably that of +the jay baby, sound like the wail of a human infant. As to one curious +utterance in the jay <i>répertoire</i>, I could not quite make up my mind +whether it was a real call to arms, or intended as a joke on the +neighborhood. When a bird, without visible provocation, suddenly burst +out with this loud two-note call, instantly every feathered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>individual +was on the alert,—sprang to arms, as it were. Blue jays joined in, +robins hurried to the tops of the tallest trees and added their excited +notes, with jerking wings and tail, and at the second or third +repetition the whole party precipitated itself as one bird—upon what? +Nothing that I could discover.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XII" id="XII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XII.</h2> + +<h2>STORY OF THE NESTLINGS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>While I was studying the manners and customs of the bird in blue, babies +were growing up in the pine-tree nest. Five days after I began to +observe, I saw little heads above the edge. On the sixth day they began, +as mothers say, to "take notice," stirring about in a lively way, +clambering up into sight, and fluttering their draperies over the edge. +Now came busy and hungry times in the jay family; the mother added her +forces, and both parents worked industriously from morning till night.</p> + +<p>On the seventh day I was up early, as usual, and, also as usual, my +first act was to admire the view from my window. I fancied it was the +most beautiful in the early morning, when the sun, behind the rampart of +locust and other trees, threw the yard into deep shade, painting a +thousand shadow pictures on the grass; but at still noon, when every +perfect tree stood on its own shadow, openings looked dark and +mysterious, and a bird was lost in the depths, then I was sure it was +never so lovely; again at night, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>when wrapped in darkness, and all +silent except the subdued whisper of the pine, with its</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"Sound of the Sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">O mournful tree,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">In thy boughs forever clinging,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I knew it could not be surpassed. I was up early, as I said, when the +dove was cooing to his mate in the distance, and before human noises had +begun, and then I heard the baby cry from the pine-tree,—a whispered +jay squawk, constantly repeated.</p> + +<p>On this day the first nestling mounted the edge of his high nursery, and +fluttered his wings when food approached. Every night after that it grew +more and more difficult to settle the household in bed, for everybody +wanted to be on top; and no sooner would one arrange himself to his mind +than some "under one," not relishing his crushed position, would +struggle out, step over his brothers and sisters, and take his place on +top, and then the whole thing would have to be done over. I think that +mamma had often to put a peremptory end to these difficulties by sitting +down on them, for frequently it was a very turbulent-looking nest when +she calmly placed herself upon it.</p> + +<p>Often, in those days, I wished I could put myself on a level with that +little castle in the air, and look into it, filled to the brim with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>beauty as I knew it was. But I had not long to wait, for speedily it +became too full, and ran over into the outside world. On the eighth day +one ambitious youngster stepped upon the branch beside the nest and +shook himself out, and on the ninth came the plunge into the wide, wide +world. While I was at breakfast he made his first effort, and on my +return I saw him on a branch about a foot below the nest, the last step +on papa's winding stair. Here he beat his wings and plumed himself +vigorously, rejoicing, no doubt, in his freedom and in plenty of room. +Again and again he nearly lost his balance, in his violent attempts to +dress his beautiful plumage, and remove the last remnant of nest +mussiness. But he did not fall, and at last he began to look about him. +One cannot but wonder what he thought when he</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"First opened wondering eyes and found</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">A world of green leaves all around,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">looking down upon us from his high perch, complete to the little black +necklace, and lacking only length of tail of being as big as his +parents.</p> + +<p>After half an hour of restless putting to rights, the little jay sat +down patiently to wait for whatever might come to him. The wind got up +and shook him well, but he rocked safely on his airy seat. Then some one +approached. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>leaned over with mouth open, and across the yard I heard +his coaxing voice. But alas! though he was on the very threshold, the +food-bearer omitted that step, and passed him by. Then the little one +looked up wistfully, apparently conscious of being at a disadvantage. +Did he regret the nest privileges he had abandoned? Should he retrace +his steps and be a nestling? That the thought passed through his head +was indicated by his movements. He raised himself on his legs, turned +his face to his old home, and started up, even stepped one small twig +nearer. But perish the thought! he would not go back! He settled himself +again on his seat.</p> + +<p>All things come in time to him who can wait, and the next provision +stopped at the little wanderer. His father alighted beside him and fed +him two mouthfuls. Thus fortified, his ambition was roused, and his +desire to see more, to do more. He began to jump about on his perch, +facing first this way, then that; he crept to the outer end of the +branch he was on, and was lost to view behind a thick clump of pine +needles. In a few minutes he returned, considered other branches near, +and, after some study, did really go to the nearest one. Then, step by +step, very deliberately, he mounted the winding stair of his father, +using, however, every little twig that the elder had vaulted over at a +bound. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>Finally he reached the branch opposite his birthplace, only the +tree-trunk between. The trunk was small, home was invitingly near, he +was tired; the temptation was too great, and in a minute he was cuddled +down with his brothers, having been on a journey of an hour. In the +nest, all this time, there had been a hurry and skurry of dressing, as +though the house were to be vacated, and no one wished to be late. After +a rest and probably a nap, the ambitious young jay took a longer trip: +he flew to the next tree, and, I believe, returned no more.</p> + +<p>The next day was spent by all the nestlings in hopping about the three +branches on which their home was built, making beautiful pictures of +themselves every moment; but whenever the bringer of supplies drew near, +each little one hastened to scramble back to the nest, to be ready for +his share. The last day in the old home had now arrived. One by one the +birdlings flew to the maple, and turned their backs on their native tree +forever; and that night the "mournful tree" was entirely deserted.</p> + +<p>The exit was not accomplished without its excitement. After tea, as I +was congratulating myself that they were all safely out in the world, +without accident, suddenly there arose a terrible outcry, robin and blue +jay voices in chorus. I looked over to the scene of the fray, and saw a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>young jay on the ground, and the parents frantic with anxiety. +Naturally, my first impulse was to go to their aid, and I started; but I +was saluted with a volley of squawks that warned me not to interfere. I +retired meekly, leaving the birds to deal with the difficulty as they +best could, while from afar I watched the little fellow as he scrambled +around in the grass. He tried to fly, but could not rise more than two +feet. Both the elders were with him, but seemed unable to help him, and +night was coming on. I resolved, finally, to "take my life in my hands," +brave those unreasoning parents, and place the infant out of the way of +cats and boys.</p> + +<p>As I reached the doorstep I saw that the youngster had begun to climb +the trunk of a locust-tree. I stood in amazement and saw that baby climb +six feet straight up the trunk. He did it by flying a few inches, +clinging to the bark and resting, then flying a few inches more. I +watched, breathless, till he got nearly to the lowest branch, when alas! +his strength or his courage gave out, and he fell back to the ground. +But he pulled himself together, and after a few minutes more of +struggling through the grass he came to the trunk of the maple next his +native pine. Up this he went in the same way, till he reached a branch, +where I saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>him sitting with all the dignity of a young jay (old jays +have no dignity). While he was wrestling with fate and his life was in +the balance, the parents had kept near him and perfectly silent, unless +some one came near, when they filled the air with squawks, and appeared +so savage that I honestly believe they would have attacked any one who +had tried to lend a hand.</p> + +<p>But still the little blue-coat had not learned sufficient modesty of +endeavor, for the next morning he found himself again in the grass. He +tried climbing, but unfortunately selected a tree with branches higher +than he could hold out to reach; so he fell back to the ground. Then +came the inexorable demands of breakfast, with which no one who has been +up since four o'clock will decline to comply. On my return, the +straggler was mounted on a post that held a tennis net, three or four +feet from the ground. One of the old birds was on the rope close by him, +and there I left them. Once more I saw him fall, but I concluded that +since he had learned to climb, and the parents would not accept my +assistance any way, he must take care of himself. I suppose he was the +youngest of the brood, who could not help imitating his elders, but was +not strong enough to do as they did. On the following day he was able to +keep his place, and he came to the ground no more.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>From that day I saw, and, what was more evident, heard the jay babies +constantly, though they wandered far from the place of their birth. +Their voices waxed stronger day by day; from morning to night they +called vigorously; and very lovely they looked as they sat on the +branches in their brand-new fluffy suits, with their tails a little +spread, and showing the snowy borderings beautifully. Twenty-two days +after they bade farewell to the old home before my window they were +still crying for food, still following their hard-working parents, and, +though flying with great ease, never coming to the ground (that I could +see), and apparently having not the smallest notion of looking out for +themselves.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XIII.</h2> + +<h2>BLUE JAY MANNERS.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>Early in my acquaintance with the jay family, wishing to induce the +birds of the vicinity to show themselves, I procured a quantity of +shelled corn, and scattered a few handfuls under my window every night. +This gave me opportunity to note, among other things, the jay's way of +conducting himself on the ground, and his table manners. To eat a kernel +of dry corn, he flew with it to a small branch, placed it between his +feet (the latter of course being close together), and, holding it thus, +drew back his head and delivered a blow with that pickaxe beak of his +that would have broken a toe if he had missed by the shadow of an inch +the grain for which it was intended. I was always nervous when I saw him +do it, for I expected an accident, but none ever happened that I know +of. When the babies grew clamorous all over the place, the jay used to +fill his beak with the whole kernels. Eight were his limit, and those +kept the mouth open, with one sticking out at the tip. Thus loaded he +flew off, but was back <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>in two minutes for another supply. The +red-headed woodpecker, who claimed to own the corn-field, seemed to +think this a little grasping, and protested against such a wholesale +performance; but the overworked jay simply jumped to one side when he +came at him, and went right on picking up corn. When he had time to +spare from his arduous duties, he sometimes indulged his passion for +burying things by carrying a grain off on the lawn with an air of most +important business, and driving it into the ground, hammering it well +down out of sight.</p> + +<p>The blue jay's manner of getting over the ground was peculiar, and +especially his way of leaving it. He proceeded by high hops, bounding up +from each like a rubber ball; and when ready to fly he hopped farther +and bounded higher each time, till it seemed as if he were too high to +return, and so took to his wings. That is exactly the way it looked to +an observer; for there is a lightness, an airiness of bearing about this +apparently heavy bird impossible to describe, but familiar to those who +have watched him.</p> + +<p>Some time after the blue jay family had taken to roaming about the +grounds, I had a pleasing little interview with one of them in the +raspberry patch. This was a favorite resort of the neighboring birds, +where I often betook myself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>to see who came to the feast. This morning +I was sitting quietly under a spruce-tree, when three blue jays came +flying toward me with noise and outcries, evidently in excitement over +something. The one leading the party had in his beak a white object, +like a piece of bread, and was uttering low, complaining cries as he +flew; he passed on, and the second followed him; but the third seemed +struck by my appearance, and probably felt it his duty to inquire into +my business, for he alighted on a tree before me, not ten feet from +where I sat. He began in the regular way, by greeting me with a squawk; +for, like some of his bigger (and wiser?) fellow-creatures, he assumed +that a stranger must be a suspicious personage, and an unusual position +must mean mischief. I was very comfortable, and I thought I would see if +I could not fool him into thinking me a scarecrow, companion to those +adorning the "patch" at that moment. I sat motionless, not using my +glass, but looking him squarely in the eyes. This seemed to impress him; +he ceased squawking, and hopped a twig nearer, stopped, turned one +calmly observant eye on me, then quickly changed to the other, as if to +see if the first had not deceived him. Still I did not move, and he was +plainly puzzled to make me out. He came nearer and nearer, and I moved +only my eyes to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>keep them on his. All this time he did not utter a +sound, but studied me as closely, and to all appearances as carefully, +as ever I had studied him. Obviously he was in doubt what manner of +creature it was, so like the human race, yet so unaccountably quiet. He +tried to be unconcerned, while still not releasing me from strict +surveillance; he dressed his feathers a little, uttering a soft whisper +to himself, as if he said, "Well, I never!" then looked me over again +more carefully than before. This pantomime went on for half an hour or +more; and no one who had looked for that length of time into the eyes of +a blue jay could doubt his intelligence, or that he had his thoughts and +his well-defined opinions, that he had studied his observer very much as +she had studied him, and that she had not fooled him in the least.</p> + +<p>The little boy blue is one of the birds suffering under a bad name whom +I have wished to know better, to see if perchance something might be +done to clear up his reputation a bit. I am not able to say that he +never steals the eggs of other birds, though during nearly a month of +hard work, when, if ever, a few eggs would have been a welcome addition +to his resources, and sparrows were sitting in scores on the place, I +did not see or hear anything of the sort. I have heard of his destroying +the nest, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>presumably eating the eggs or young of the English +sparrow, but the hundred or two who raised their broods and squawked +from morning to night in the immediate vicinity of the pine-tree +household never intimated that they were disturbed, and never showed +hostility to their neighbors in blue. Moreover, there is undoubtedly +something to be said on the jay's side. Even if he does indulge in these +little eccentricities, what is he but a "collector"? And though he does +not claim to be working "in the interest of science," which bigger +collectors invariably do, he is working in the interest of life, and +life is more than science. Even a blue jay's life is to him as precious +as ours to us, and who shall say that it is not as useful as many of +ours in the great plan?</p> + +<p>The only indications of hostilities that I observed in four weeks' close +study, at the most aggressive time of bird life, nesting-time, I shall +relate exactly as I saw them, and the record will be found a very modest +one. In this case, certainly, the jay was no more offensive than the +meekest bird that has a nest to defend, and far less belligerent than +robins and many others. On one occasion a strange blue jay flew up to +the nest in the pine. I could not discover that he had any evil +intention, except just to see what was going on, but one of the pair +flew at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>him with loud cries, which I heard for some time after the two +had disappeared in the distance, and when our bird returned, he perched +on an evergreen, bowing and "jouncing" violently, his manner plainly +defying the enemy to "try it again." At another time I observed a savage +fight, or what looked like it, between two jays. I happened not to see +the beginning, for I was particularly struck that morning with the +behavior of a bouquet of nasturtiums which stood in a vase on my table. +I never was fond of these flowers, and I noticed then for the first time +how very self-willed and obstinate they were. No matter how nicely they +were arranged, it would not be an hour before the whole bunch was in +disorder, every blossom turning the way it preferred, and no two looking +in the same direction. I thought, when I first observed this, that I +must be mistaken, and I took them out and rearranged them as I +considered best; but the result was always the same, and I began to feel +that they knew altogether too much for their station in the vegetable +world. I was trying to see if I could discover any method in their +movements, when I was startled by a flashing vision of blue down under +the locusts, and, on looking closely, saw two jays flying up like +quarrelsome cocks,—only not together, but alternately, so that one was +in the air all the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>time. They flew three feet high, at least, all their +feathers on end, and looking more like shapeless masses of blue feathers +than like birds. They did not pause or rest till one seemed to get the +other down. I could not see from my window well enough to be positive, +but both were in the grass together, and only one in sight, who stood +perfectly quiet. He appeared to be holding the other down, for +occasionally there would be a stir below, and renewed vigilance on the +part of the one I could see. Several minutes passed. I became very +uneasy. Was he killing him? I could stand it no longer, so I ran down. +But my coming was a diversion, and both flew. When I reached the place, +one had disappeared, and the other was hopping around the tree in great +excitement, holding in his beak a fluffy white feather about the size of +a jay's breast feather. I did not see the act, and I cannot absolutely +declare it, but I have no doubt that he pulled that feather from the +breast of his foe as he held him down; how many more with it I could not +tell, for I did not think of looking until it was too late.</p> + +<p>Again one day, somewhat later, when blue jay and catbird babies were +rather numerous, I saw a blue jay dive into a lilac bush much frequented +by catbirds, young and old together. Instantly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>there arose a great cry +of distress, as though some one were hurt, and a rustling of leaves, +proclaiming that a chase, if not a fight, was in progress. I hurried +downstairs, and as I appeared the jay flew, with two catbirds after him, +still crying in a way I had never heard before. I expected nothing less +than to find a young catbird injured, but I found nothing. Whether the +blue jay really had touched one, or it was a mere false alarm on the +part of the very excitable catbirds, I could not tell. This is the only +thing I have seen in the jay that might have been an interference with +another bird's rights; and the catbirds made such a row when I came near +their babies that I strongly suspect the only guilt of the jay was +alighting in the lilac they had made their headquarters.</p> + +<p>The little boy blue in the apple-tree, already spoken of, did not get +his family off with so little adventure as his pine-tree neighbor. The +youngling of this nest came to the ground and stayed there. The people +of the house returned him to the tree several times, but every time he +fell again. Three or four days he wandered about the neighborhood, the +parents rousing the country with their uproar, and terrorizing the +household cat to such a point of meekness that no sooner did a jay begin +to squawk than he ran to the door and begged to come in. At last, out of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>mercy, the family took the little fellow into the house, when they saw +that he was not quite right in some way. One side seemed to be nearly +useless; one foot did not hold on; one wing was weak; and his breathing +seemed to be one-sided. The family, seeing that he could not take care +of himself, decided to adopt him. He took kindly to human care and human +food, and before the end of a week had made himself very much at home. +He knew his food provider, and the moment she entered the room he rose +on his weak little legs, fluttered his wings violently, and presented a +gaping mouth with the jay baby cry issuing therefrom. Nothing was ever +more droll than this sight. He was an intelligent youngster, knew what +he wanted, and when he had had enough. He would eat bread up to a +certain point, but after that he demanded cake or a berry, and his +favorite food was an egg. He was exceedingly curious about all his +surroundings, examined everything with great care, and delighted to look +out of the window. He selected his own sleeping-place,—the upper one of +a set of bookshelves,—and refused to change; and he watched the +movements of a wounded woodcock as he ran around the floor with as much +interest as did the people. Under human care he grew rapidly stronger, +learned to fly more readily and to use his weak side; and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>every day he +was allowed to fly about in the trees for hours. Once or twice, when +left out, he returned to the house for food and care; but at last came a +day when he returned no more. No doubt he was taken in charge again by +his parents, who, it was probable, had not left the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>After July came in, and baby blue jays could hardly be distinguished +from their parents, my studies took me away from the place nearly all +day, and I lost sight of the family whose acquaintance had made my June +so delightful.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XIV.</h2> + +<h2>THE GREAT CAROLINIAN.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>All through June of that summer I studied the birds in the spacious +inclosure around my "Inn of Rest." But as that month drew near its end,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"The happy birds that change their sky</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">To build and brood, that live their lives</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">From land to land,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">almost disappeared. Blue jay babies wandered far off, where I could hear +them it is true, but where—owing to the despair into which my +appearance threw the whole jay family—I rarely saw them; orchard and +Baltimore orioles had learned to fly, and carried their ceaseless cries +far beyond my hearing; catbirds and cardinals, doves and golden-wings, +all had raised their broods and betaken themselves wherever their fancy +or food drew them, certainly without the bounds of my daily walks. It +was evident that I must seek fresh fields, or remove my quarters to a +more northerly region, where the sun is less ardent and the birds less +in haste with their nesting.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>Accordingly I sought a companion who should also be a guide, and turned +my steps to the only promising place in the vicinity, a deep ravine, +through which ran a little stream that was called a river, and dignified +with a river's name, yet rippled and babbled, and conducted itself +precisely like a brook.</p> + +<p>The Glen, as it was called, was a unique possession for a common +work-a-day village in the midst of a good farming country. Long ago +would its stately trees have been destroyed, its streamlet set to +turning wheels, and Nature forced to express herself on those many +acres, in corn and potatoes, instead of her own graceful and varied +selection of greenery; or, mayhap, its underbrush cut out, its slopes +sodded, its springs buried in pipes and put to use, and the whole +"improved" into dull insipidity,—all this, but for the will of one man +who held the title to the grounds, and rated it so highly, that, though +willing to sell, no one could come up to his terms. Happy delusion! that +blessed the whole neighborhood with an enchanting bit of nature +untouched by art. Long may he live to keep the deeds in his possession, +and the grounds in their own wild beauty.</p> + +<p>The place was surrounded by bristling barbed fences, and trespassers +were pointedly warned off, so when one had paid for the privilege, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>entered the grounds, he was supposed to be safe from intrusion, except +of others who had also bought the right. The part easily accessible to +hotel and railroad station was the scene of constant picnics, for which +the State is famous, but that portion which lay near my place of study +was usually left to the lonely kingfisher—and the cows. There the shy +wood dwellers set up their households, and many familiar upland birds +came with their fledglings; that was the land of promise for +bird-lovers, and there one of them decided to study.</p> + +<p>We began with the most virtuous resolves. We would come at five o'clock +in the morning; we would catch the birds at their breakfast. We did; it +was a lovely morning after a heavy rain, on which we set out to explore +the ravine for birds. The storm in passing had taken the breeze with it, +and not a twig had stirred since. Every leaf and grass blade was loaded +with rain-drops. Walking in the grass was like wading in a stream; to +touch a bush was to evoke a shower. But though our shoes were wet +through, and our garments well sprinkled, before we reached the barbed +fence, over or under or through or around which we must pass to our +goal, we would not be discouraged; we went on.</p> + +<p>As to the fence, let me, in passing, give my fellow drapery-bearers a +hint. Carry a light <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>shawl, or even a yard of muslin, to lay across the +wire you can step over (thus covering the mischievous barbs), while a +good friend holds up with strong hand the next wire, and you slip +through. Thus you may pass this cruel device of man without accident.</p> + +<p>Having circumvented the fence, the next task was to descend the steep +sides of the ravine. The difficulty was, not to get down, for that could +be done almost anywhere, but to go right side up; to land on the feet +and not on the head was the test of sure-footedness and climbing +ability. We conquered that obstacle, cautiously creeping down rocky +steps, and over slippery soil, steadying ourselves by bushes, clasping +small tree-trunks, scrambling over big ones that lay prone upon the +ground, and thus we safely reached the level of the stream. Then we +passed along more easily, stooping under low trees, crossing the beds of +tiny brooks, encircling clumps of shrubbery (and catching the night's +cobwebs on our faces), till we reached a fallen tree-trunk that seemed +made for resting. There we seated ourselves, to breathe, and to see who +lived in the place.</p> + +<p>One of the residents proclaimed himself at once,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">"To left and right</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">The cuckoo told his name to all the hills,"—</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>and in a moment we saw him, busy with his breakfast. His manner of +hunting was interesting; he stood perfectly still on a branch, his beak +pointed upward, but his head so turned that one eye looked downward. +When something attracted him, he almost fell off his perch, seized the +morsel as he passed, alighted on a lower branch, and at once began +looking around again. There was no frivolity, no flitting about like a +little bird; his conduct was grave and dignified, and he was absolutely +silent, except when at rare intervals he mounted a branch and uttered +his call, or song, if one might so call it. He managed his long tail +with grace and expression, holding it a little spread as he moved about, +thus showing the white tips and "corners."</p> + +<p>While we were absorbed in cuckoo affairs the sun peeped over the trees, +and the place was transfigured. Everything, as I said, was charged with +water, and looking against the sun, some drops hanging from the tip of a +leaf glowed red as rubies, others shone out blue as sapphires, while +here and there one scintillated with many colors like a diamond, now +flashing red, and now yellow or blue.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 17.5em;">"The humblest weed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Wore its own coronal, and gayly bold</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Waved jeweled sceptre."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>In that spot we sat an hour, and saw many birds, with whom it was +evidently a favorite hunting-ground. But no one seemed to live there; +every one appeared to be passing through; and realizing as we did, that +it was late in the season, our search for nests in use was rather +half-hearted anyway. As our breakfast-time drew near we decided to go +home, having found nothing we cared to study. Just as we were taking +leave of the spot I heard, nearly at my back, a gentle scolding cry, and +glancing around, my eyes fell upon two small birds running down the +trunk of a walnut sapling. A few inches above the ground one of the pair +disappeared, and the other, still scolding, flew away. I hastened to the +spot—and there I found my great Carolinian.</p> + +<p>The nest was made in a natural cavity in the side of a stump six or +eight inches in diameter and a foot high. It seemed to be of moss, +completely roofed over, and stooping nearer its level I saw the bird, +looking flattened as if she had been crushed, but returning my gaze, +bravely resolved to live or die with her brood. I noted her color, and +the peculiar irregular line over her eye, and then I left her, though I +did not know who she was. Nothing would have been easier than to put my +hand over her door and catch her, but nothing would have induced me <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>to +do so—if I never knew her name. Time enough for formal introductions +later in our acquaintance, I thought, and if it happened that we never +met again, what did I care how she was named in the books?</p> + +<p>I did not at first even suspect her identity, for who would expect to +find the great Carolina wren a personage of less than six inches! even +though he were somewhat familiar with the vagaries of name-givers, who +call one bird after the cat, whom he in no way resembles, and another +after the bull, to whom the likeness is, if possible, still less. What +was certain was that the nest belonged to wrens, and was admirably +placed for study; and what I instantly resolved was to improve my +acquaintance with the owners thereof.</p> + +<p>The little opening in the woods, which became the Wren's Court, when +their rank was discovered, was a most attractive place, shaded enough to +be pleasant, while yet leaving a goodly stretch of blue sky in sight, +bounded on one side by immense forest trees—walnut, butternut, oak, and +others—which looked as if they had stood there for generations; on the +other side, the babbling stream, up and down which the kingfisher flew +and clattered all day. One way out led to the thicket where a +wood-thrush was sitting in a low tree, and the other, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>by the Path +Difficult, up to the world above. The seat, across the court from the +nest, had plainly been arranged by some kind fate on purpose for us. It +was the trunk of a tree, which in falling failed to quite reach the +ground, and so had bleached and dried, and it was shaded and screened +from observation by vigorous saplings which had sprung up about it. The +whole was indeed an ideal nook, well worthy to be named after its +distinguished residents.</p> + +<p>Thoreau was right in his assertion that one may see all the birds of a +neighborhood by simply waiting patiently in one place, and into that +charming spot came "sooner or later" every bird I had seen in my +wanderings up and down the ravine. There sang the scarlet tanager every +morning through July, gleaming among the leaves of the tallest trees, +his olive-clad spouse nowhere to be seen, presumably occupied with +domestic affairs. There the Acadian flycatcher pursued his calling, +fluttering his wings and uttering a sweet little murmur when he +alighted. Into that retired corner came the cries of flicker and blue +jay from the high ground beyond. On the edge sang the indigo-bird and +the wood-pewee, and cardinal and wood-thrush song formed the chorus to +all the varied notes that we heard.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>Upon our entrance the next morning, my first glance at the nest was one +of dismay—the material seemed to be pulled out a little. Had it been +robbed! had some vagabond squirrel thrust lawless paws into the little +home! I looked closely; no, there sat, or rather there lay the little +mother. But she did not relish this second call. She flew, fluttering +and trailing on the ground, as if hurt, hoping, of course, to attract us +away from her nest. Seeing that of no avail, however, which she quickly +did, she retreated to a low branch, threw back her head, and uttered a +soft "chur-r-r," again and again repeated, doubtless to her mate. But +that personage did not make his appearance, and we examined the nest. +There were five eggs, white, very thickly and evenly specked with fine +dots of dark color. An end of one that stuck up was plain white, perhaps +the others were the same; we did not inquire too closely, for what did +we care for eggs, except as the cradles of the future birds?</p> + +<p>Very soon we retired to our seat across the court and became quiet, to +wait for what might come. Suddenly, with almost startling effect,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">"A bird broke forth and sung</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">And trilled and quavered and shook his throat."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>It was a new voice to us, loud and clear, and the song, consisting of +three clauses, sounded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>like "Whit-e-ar! Whit-e-ar! Whit-e-ar!" then a +pause, and the same repeated, and so on indefinitely. It came nearer and +still nearer, and in a moment we saw the bird, a tiny creature, +red-brown on the back, light below—the image of the little sitter in +the stump, as we remarked with delight; we hoped he was her mate. He did +not seem inclined to go to the nest, but stayed on a twig of a dead +branch which hung from a large tree near by.</p> + +<p>While the stranger was pouring out his rhapsody, head thrown back, tail +hanging straight down, and wings slightly drooped, I noticed a movement +by the nest, and fixed my eyes upon that. The little dame had stolen out +of her place, and now began the ascent of the sapling which started out +one side of her small stump. Up the trunk she went with perfect ease, +running a few steps, and then pausing a moment before she took the next +half-dozen. She did not go bobbing up like a woodpecker, nor did she +steady herself with her tail, like that frequenter of tree-trunks; she +simply ran up that almost perpendicular stick as a fly runs up the wall. +Meanwhile her mate, if that he were, kept up his ringing song, till she +reached the top of the sapling, perhaps seven or eight feet high, and +flew over near him. In an instant the song ceased, and the next moment +two small <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>birds flew over our heads, and we heard chatting and +churring, and then silence.</p> + +<p>Without this hint from the wren we should rarely have seen her leave the +nest; we should naturally have watched for wings, and none might come or +go, while she was using her feet instead. She returned in the same way; +flying to the top, or part way up her sapling, she ran down to her nest +as glibly as she had run up. The walnut-trunk was the ladder which led +to the outside world. This pretty little scene was many times repeated, +in the days that we spent before the castle of our Carolinians; the male +announcing himself afar with songs, and approaching gradually, while his +mate listened to the notes that had wooed her, and now again coaxed her +away from her sitting, for a short outing with him. Sometimes, though +rarely, she came out without this inducement, but during her sitting +days she usually went only upon his invitation.</p> + +<p>Before many days we had fully identified the pair. The song had puzzled +me at first, for though extraordinary in volume for a bird of his size, +and possessing that indefinable wren quality, that abandon and +unexpectedness, as if it were that instant inspired, it had yet few +notes, and I missed the exquisite tremolo that makes the song of the +winter-wren so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>bewitching. But I "studied him up," and learned that his +finest and most characteristic song is uttered in the spring only. After +nesting has begun, he gives merely these musical calls, which, though +delightful, do not compare—say the books—with his ante-nuptial +performance. I was too late for that, but I was glad and thankful for +these.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the wren varied his songs as the days went on. There were from +two to five notes in a clause, never more, and commonly but three. This +clause he repeated again and again during the whole of one visit; but +the next time he came he had a new one, which likewise he kept to while +he stayed. Again, when, some days later, he took part in feeding, he +frequently changed the song as he left the nest. Struck by the variety +he gave to his few notes, after some days I began to take them down in +syllables as they expressed themselves to my ear, for they were sharp +and distinct. Of course, these syllables resemble his sound about as a +dried flower resembles the living blossom, but they serve the same +purpose, to reproduce them in memory. In that way I recorded in three +days eighteen different arrangements of his notes. Doubtless there were +many more; indeed, he seemed to delight in inventing new combinations, +and his taste evidently agreed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>with mine, for when he succeeded in +evolving a particularly charming one, he did not easily change it. One +that specially pleased me I put down as "Shame-ber-ee!" and this was his +favorite, too, for after the day he began it, he sang it oftener than +any other. It had a peculiarly joyous ring, the second note being a +third below the first, and the third fully an octave higher than the +second. I believe he had just then struck upon it, his enjoyment of it +was so plain to see.</p> + +<p>The Wren's Court was a distracting spot to study one pair of small +birds. So many others came about, and always, it seemed, in some crisis +in wren affairs, when I dared not take my eyes from my glass, lest I +lose the sequence of events. There appeared sometimes to be a thousand +whispering, squealing, and smacking titmice in the trees over my head, +and a whole regiment of great-crested flycatchers and others on one +side. I was glad I was familiar with all the flicker noises, or I should +have been driven wild at these moments, so many, so various, and so +peculiar were their utterances; likewise thankful that I knew the row +made by the jay on the bank above was not a sign of dire distress, but +simply the tragic manner of the family.</p> + +<p>Again, when the wind blew, it was impossible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>to see the little folk +that chattered and whispered and "dee-dee'd" overhead, and though we +were absolutely certain a party of tufted tits and chickadees and black +and white creepers, who always seemed to travel in company, were +frolicking about, we could not distinguish them from the dancing and +fluttering leaves.</p> + +<p>When the day was favorable, and the wren had gone his way, foraging in +silence over the low ground at our back, and an old stump that stood +there, and the sitter had settled herself in her nest for another half +hour, we could look about at whoever happened to be there. Thus I made +further acquaintance with the great-crested flycatcher. Hitherto I had +known these birds only as they travel through a neighborhood not their +own, appearing on the tops of trees, and crying out in martial tones for +the inhabitants to bring on their fighters, a challenge to all whom it +may concern. It was a revelation, then, to see them quietly at home like +other birds, setting up claims to a tree, driving strangers away from +it, and spending their time about its foot, seeking food near the +ground, and indulging in frolics or fights, whichever they might be, +with squealing cries and a rushing flight around their tree. In the +latter part of our study, the great-crest babies were out, noisy little +fellows, who insisted on being fed as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>peremptorily as their elders +demand their rights and privileges.</p> + +<p>To make the place still more maddening for study, the birds seemed to +sweep through the woods in waves. For a long time not a peep would be +heard, not a feather would stir; then all at once</p> + +<p class="cen">"The air would throb with wings,"</p> + +<p>and birds would pour in from all sides, half a dozen at a time, making +us want to look six ways at once, and rendering it impossible to confine +ourselves to one. Then, after half an hour of this superabundance, one +by one would slip out, and by the time we began to realize it, we were +alone again.</p> + +<p>We had watched the wren for nine days when there came an interruption. +It happened thus: A little farther up the glen we had another study, a +wood-thrush nest in a low tree, and every day, either coming or going, +we were accustomed to spend an hour watching that. Our place of +observation was a hidden nook in a pile of rocks, where we were entirely +concealed by thick trees, through which, by a judicious thinning out of +twigs and leaves, we had made peepholes, for the thrush mamma would not +tolerate us in her sight. To reach our seats and not alarm the +suspicious little dame, we always entered from the back, slowly and +cautiously <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>climbed the rocks by a rude path which already existed, and +slipped in under cover of our leafy screen.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the tenth day we entered the ravine from the upper +end, and made our first call upon the thrush. We had been seated in +silence for ten or fifteen minutes, and I was beginning to get uneasy +because no bird came to the nest, when a diversion occurred that drove +thrush affairs out of our minds. We heard footsteps! It must be +remembered that we were alone in this solitary place, far from a house, +and naturally we listened eagerly. The steps drew nearer, and then we +heard loud breathing. We exchanged glances of relief—it was a cow! But +while we were congratulating ourselves began a crashing of branches, a +fiercer breathing, a rush, and a low bellow!</p> + +<p>This was no meek cow! we turned pale,—at any rate we felt pale,—but we +tried to encourage each other by suggesting in hurried whispers that he +surely would not see us. Alas! the next instant he broke through the +bushes, and to our horror started at once up our path to the rocks; in a +moment he would be upon us! We rose hastily, prepared to sell our lives +dearly, when, as suddenly as he had come, he turned and rushed back. +Whether the sight of us was too much for his philosophy, or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>whether he +had gone for reinforcements, we did not inquire. We instantly lost our +interest in birds and birds' nests; we gathered up our belongings and +fled, not stopping to breathe till we had put the barbiest of barbed +wire fences between us and the foe.</p> + +<p>Once outside, however, we paused to consider: To give up our study was +not to be thought of; to go every day in fear and dread was equally +intolerable. I wrote to the authorities of whom I had purchased the +right to enter the place. They promptly denied the existence of any such +animal on the premises. I replied to the effect that "seeing is +believing," but they reaffirmed their former statement, assuring me that +there were none but harmless cows in the glen. I did not want to waste +time in an unprofitable correspondence, and I did want to see the wrens, +and at last a bright thought came,—I would hire an escort, a country +boy used to cattle, and warranted not afraid of them. I inquired into +the question of day's wages, I looked about among the college students +who were working their way to an education, and I found an ideal +protector,—an intelligent and very agreeable young man, brought up on a +farm, and just graduated, who was studying up mathematics preparatory to +school-teaching in the fall. The bargain was soon made, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>next +morning we started again for the glen, our guardian armed with his +geometry and a big club. Three days, however, had been occupied in +perfecting this arrangement, and I approached the spot with anxiety; +indeed, I am always concerned till I see the whole family I am watching, +after only a night's interval, and know they have survived the many +perils which constantly threaten bird-life, both night and day.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XV" id="XV"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XV.</h2> + +<h2>THE WRENLINGS APPEAR.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The moment we entered the court I saw there was news. My eyes being +attracted by a little commotion on a dogwood-tree, I saw a saucy tufted +titmouse chasing with cries one of the wrens who had food in its beak. +With most birds this proclaims the arrival of the young family as +plainly as if a banner had been hung on the castle walls. Whether the +tit was after the food, or trying to drive the wren off his own ground, +we could not tell, nor did we much care; the important fact was that +babies were out in the walnut-tree cottage. The food bearer went to the +nest, and in a moment came up the ladder, so joyous and full of song +that he could not wait to get off his own tree, but burst into a +triumphant ringing "Whit-e-ar!" that must have told his news to all the +world—who had ears to hear.</p> + +<p>The mother did not at once give up her brooding, nor did I wonder when I +peeped into the nest while she was off with her spouse, and saw what +appeared to be five big mouths with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>small bag of skin attached to +each. Nothing else could be seen. She sat an hour at a time, and then +her mate would come and call her off for a rest and a change, while he +skipped down the ladder and fed the bairns. His way in this matter, as +in everything else, was characteristic. He never went to the nest till +he had called her off by his song. It was not till several days later, +when she had given up brooding, that I ever saw the pair meet at the +nest, and then it seemed to be accidental, and one of them always left +immediately.</p> + +<p>During the first few days the young parents came and went as of old, by +way of the ladder, and I learned to know them apart by their way of +mounting that airy flight of steps. He was more pert in manner, held his +head and tail more jauntily, though he rarely pointed his tail to the +sky, as do some of the wren family. He went lightly up in a dancing +style which she entirely lacked, sometimes jumping to a small shoot that +grew up quite near the walnut, and running up that as easily as he did +the tree. Her ascent was of a business character; she was on duty, head +and tail level with her body, no airs whatever. He was so full of +happiness in these early days that frequently he could not take time to +go to the top, but, having reached a height of two or three feet, he +flew, and at once burst into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>rapturous song, even sang while flying +over to the next tree. From this time they almost abandoned the ladder +they had been so fond of, and flew directly to the nest from the ground, +where they got all their food. This change was not because they were +hard worked; I never saw birds who took family cares more easily. At the +expiration of three days the mother brooded no more, and indeed it would +have troubled her to find a place for herself, the nest was so full.</p> + +<p>Every morning on entering the court I called at the nest, and always +found five yellow beaks turned to the front. On the third day the heads +were covered with slate-colored down; on the fourth, wing-feathers began +to show among the heads, but the body was still perfectly bare; on the +fifth, the eyes opened on the green world about them,—they were then +certainly five days old, and may have been seven; owing to our +unfortunate absence at the critical time I cannot be sure. On the +seventh day the red-brown of the back began to show, and the white of +the breast made itself visible, while the heads began to look feathery +instead of fuzzy. Even then, however, they took no notice when I put my +finger on them.</p> + +<p>Long before this time the manner of the parents had changed. In the +first place, they were more busy; foraging industriously on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>ground, +coming within ten or fifteen feet of us, without appearing to see us at +all. In fact they had, after the first day, paid no attention to us, for +we never had disturbed them, never went to the nest till sure that both +were away, and kept still and quiet in our somewhat distant seat.</p> + +<p>About this time they began to show more anxiety in their manner. The +first exhibition was on the fourth day since we knew the young were +hatched (and let me say that I <i>believe</i> they were just out of the shell +the morning that we found the father feeding). On this fourth day the +singer perched near the nest-tree, three or four feet from the ground, +and began a very loud wren "dear-r-r-r! dear-r-r-r! dear-r-r-r!" +constantly repeated. He jerked himself about with great apparent +excitement, looking always on the ground as if he saw an enemy there. We +thought it might be a cat we had seen prowling about, but on examination +no cat was there. Gradually his tone grew lower and lower, and he calmed +down so far as a wren can calm, though he did not cease his cries. I did +not know he could be still so long, but I learned more about wren +possibilities in that line somewhat later.</p> + +<p>During this performance his mate came with food in her beak, and +evidently saw nothing alarming, for she went to the nest with it. Still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>he stood gazing on the ground. Sometimes he flew down and returned at +once, then began moving off, a little at a time, still crying, exactly +as though he were following some one who went slowly. The call, when +low, was very sweet and tender; very mournful too, and we got much +wrought up over it, wishing—as bird students so often do—that we could +do something to help. He was roused at last by the intrusion of a bird +into his domain, and his discomfiture of this foe seemed to dispel his +unhappy state of mind, for he at once broke out in joyous song, to our +great relief. That was not the last exhibition of the wren's +idiosyncrasy; he repeated it day after day, and finally he went so far +as to interpolate low "dear-r-r's" into his sweetest songs. Perhaps that +was his conception of his duty as protector to the family; if so, he was +certainly faithful in doing it. It was ludicrously like the attitude of +some people under similar circumstances.</p> + +<p>While the young father was manifesting his anxiety in this way, the +mother showed hers in another; she took to watching, hardly leaving the +place at all. When she had her babies well fed for the moment, she went +up the trunk a little, in a loitering way that I had never seen her +indulge in before,—and a loitering wren is a curiosity. It was plain +that she simply wished <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>to pass away the time. She stepped from the +trunk upon a twig on one side, stayed a little while, then passed to one +on the other side, lingered a few moments, and so she went on. When she +arrived at the height of two feet she perched on a small dead twig, and +remained a long time—certainly twenty minutes—absolutely motionless. +It was hard to see her, and if I had not watched her progress from the +first, I should not have suspected her presence. A leaf would hide her, +even the crossing of two twigs was ample screen, and when she was still +it was hopeless to look for her. The only way we were able to keep track +of either of the pair was by their incessant motions.</p> + +<p>The Great Carolinian had a peculiar custom which showed that his coming +with song was a ceremony he would not dispense with. He would often +start off singing, gradually withdraw till fifty or seventy-five feet +away, singing at every pause, and then, if one watched him closely, he +might see him stop, drop to the ground, and hunt about in silence. When +he was ready to come again, he would fly quietly a little way off, and +then begin his singing and approaching, as if he had been a mile away. +He never sang when on the ground after food, but so soon as he finished +eating, he flew to a perch at least two feet high, generally between six +and ten, and sometimes as high as twenty feet, and sang.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>After a day or two of the wren's singular uneasiness, we discovered at +least one object of his concern. It was a chipmunk, whom we had often +noticed perched on the highest point of the little ledge of rocks near +the nest. He seemed to be attending strictly to his own affairs, but +after a good deal of "dear-r-r"-ing, the wren flew furiously at him, +almost, if not quite, hitting him, and doing it again and again. The +little beast did not relish this treatment and ran off, the bird +following and repeating the assault. This was undoubtedly the foe that +he had been troubled about all the time.</p> + +<p>On the tenth or eleventh day of their lives (as I believe) I examined +the babies in the nest a little more closely than before. I even touched +them with my finger on head and beak. They looked sleepily at me, but +did not resent it. If the mother were somewhat bigger, I should suspect +her of giving them "soothing syrup," for they had exactly the appearance +of being drugged. They were not overfed; I never saw youngsters so much +let alone. The parents had nothing like the work of the robin, oriole, +or blue jay. They came two or three times, and then left for half an +hour or more, yet the younglings were never impatient for food.</p> + +<p>The morning that the young wrens had reached the age of twelve days +(that we knew <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>of) was the 22d of July, and the weather was intensely +warm. On the 21st we had watched all day to see them go, sure that they +were perfectly well able. Obviously it is the policy of this family to +prepare for a life of extraordinary activity by an infancy of unusual +stillness. Never were youngsters so perfectly indifferent to all the +world. In storm or sunshine, in daylight or darkness, they lay there +motionless, caring only for food, and even that showed itself only by +the fact that all mouths were toward the front. The under one of the +pile seemed entirely contented to be at the bottom, and the top ones not +to exult in their position; in fact, so far as any show of interest in +life was concerned, they might have been a nestful of wooden babies.</p> + +<p>On this morning, as we dragged ourselves wearily over the hot road to +the ravine, we resolved that no handful of wrenlings should force us +over that road again. Go off this day they should, if—as my comrade +remarked—"we had to raise them by hand." My first call was at the nest, +indifferent whether parents were there or not, for I had become +desperate. There they lay, lazily blinking at me, and filling the nest +overfull. The singer came rushing down a branch, bristled up, +blustering, and calling "Dear-r-r-r!" at me, and I hoped he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>would be +induced to hurry up his very leisurely brood.</p> + +<p>We took our usual seats and waited. Both parents remained near the +homestead, and little singing was indulged in; this morning there was +serious business on hand, as any one could see. We were desirous of +seeing the first sign of movement, so we resolved to cut away the last +few leaves that hid the entrance to the nest. We had not done it before, +partly not to annoy the birds, and partly not to have them too easily +discovered by prowlers.</p> + +<p>Miss R—— went to the stump, and cut away half a dozen leaves and twigs +directly before their door. The young ones looked at her, but did not +move. Then, as I had asked her to do, she pointed a parasol directly at +the spot, so that I, in my distant seat, might locate the nest exactly. +This seemed to be the last straw that the birdlings could endure; two of +them flew off. One went five or six feet away, the other to the ground +close by. Then she came away, and we waited again. In a moment two more +ventured out and alighted on twigs near the nest. Then the mother came +home, and acted as surprised as though she had never expected to have +them depart. She went from a twig beside the tree to the nest, and back, +about a dozen times, as if she really could not believe her eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>Anxious to see everything that went on, we moved our seats nearer, but +this so disconcerted the pair that we did not stay long. It was long +enough to hear the wren baby-cry, a low insect-like noise, and to see +something that surprised and no less disgusted me, namely, every one of +those babies hurry back to the tree, climb the trunk, and scramble back +into the nest!—the whole exit to be begun again! It could not be their +dislike of the "cold, cold world," for a cold world would be a luxury +that morning.</p> + +<p>Of any one who would go back into that crowded nest, with the +thermometer on the rampage as it was then, I had my opinion, and I began +to think I didn't care much about wrens anyway; we stayed, however, as a +matter of habit, and I suppose they all had a nap after their tremendous +exertion. But they manifestly got an idea into their heads at last, a +taste of life. After a proper amount of consideration, one of the +nestlings took courage to move again, and went so far as a twig that +grew beside the door, looked around on the world from that post for a +while, then hopped to another, and so on till he encircled the home +stump. But when he came again in sight of that delectable nest, he could +not resist it, and again he added himself to the pile of birds within. +This youth was apparently as well feathered as his parents, and, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>except +in length of tail, looked exactly like them; many a bird baby starts +bravely out in life not half so well prepared for it as this little +wren.</p> + +<p>After nearly three hours of waiting, we made up our minds that these +young folk must be out some time during the day, unless they had decided +to take up permanent quarters in that hole in the stump, and what was +more to the point, that the weather was too warm to await their very +deliberate movements. So we left them, to get off the best way they +could without us, or to stay there all their lives, if they so desired.</p> + +<p>The nest, which at first was exceedingly picturesque—and I had resolved +to bring it away, with the stump that held it—was now so demolished +that I no longer coveted it. The last and sweetest song of the wren, +"Shame-ber-ee!" rang out joyously as we turned our faces to the north, +and bade a long farewell to the Great Carolinians.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XVI.</h2> + +<h2>THE APPLE-TREE NEST.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">All day long in the elm, on their swaying perches swinging,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">New-fledged orioles utter their restless, querulous notes.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">Harriet Prescott Spofford.</span></p> + +<p>The little folk let out the secret, as little folk often do, and after +they had called attention to it, I was surprised that I had not myself +seen the pretty hammock swinging high up in the apple boughs.</p> + +<p>It was, however, in a part of the grounds I did not often visit, partly +because the trees close by, which formed a belt across the back of the +place, grew so near together that not a breath of air could penetrate, +and it was intolerable in the hot June days, and partly because my +appearance there always created a panic. So seldom did a human being +visit that neglected spot, that the birds did not look for guests, and a +general stampede followed the approach of one.</p> + +<p>On the eventful day of my happy discovery I was returning from my daily +call upon a blue jay who had set up her home in an apple-tree <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>in a +neighbor's yard. The moment I entered the grounds I noticed a great +outcry. It was loud; it was incessant; and it was of many voices. +Following the sound, I started across the unmown field,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Through the bending grasses,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Tall and lushy green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">All alive with tiny things,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Stirring feet and whirring wings</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Just an instant seen,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and soon came in sight of the nest near the topmost twig of an old +apple-tree.</p> + +<p>It was about noon of a bright, sunny day, and I could see only that the +nest was straw-color, apparently run over with little ones, and both the +parents were industriously feeding. The cries suggested the persistence +of young orioles, but it was not a Baltimore's swinging cradle, and the +old birds were so shy, coming from behind the leaves, every one of which +turned itself into a reflector for the sunlight, that I could not +identify them.</p> + +<p>Later in the day I paid them another visit, and finding a better post of +observation under the shade of a sweet-briar bush, I saw at once they +were orchard orioles, and that the young ones were climbing to the edge +of the nest; I had nearly been too late!</p> + +<p>Four o'clock was the unearthly hour at which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>I rose next morning to +pursue my acquaintance with the little family in the apple-tree, fearful +lest they should get the start of me. The youngsters were calling +vociferously, and both parents were very busy attending to their wants +and trying to stop their mouths, when I planted my seat before their +castle in the air, and proceeded to inquire into their manners and +customs. My call was, as usual, not received with favor. The mother, +after administering the mouthful she had brought, alighted on a twig +beside the nest and gave me a "piece of her mind." I admitted my bad +manners, but I could not tear myself away. The anxious papa, very +gorgeous in his chestnut and black suit, scenting danger to the little +brood in the presence of the bird-student with her glass, at once +abandoned the business of feeding, and devoted himself to the protection +of his family,—which indeed was his plain duty. His way of doing this +was to take his position on the tallest tree in the vicinity, and fill +the serene morning air with his cry of distress, a two-note utterance, +with a pathetic inflection which could not fail to arouse the sympathy +of all who heard it. It was not excited or angry, but it proclaimed that +here was distress and danger, and it had the effect of making me ashamed +of annoying him. But I hardened my heart, as I often have to do in my +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>study, and kept my seat. Occasionally he returned to the lower part of +his own tree, to see if the monster had been scared or shamed away, but +finding me stationary, he returned to his post and resumed his mournful +cry.</p> + +<p>At length the happy thought came to me that I might select a position a +little less conspicuous, yet still within sight, so I moved my seat +farther off, away back under a low-branched apple-tree, where a redbird +came around with sharp "tsip's" to ascertain my business, and a catbird +behind the briar-bush entertained me with delicious song. The oriole +accepted my retirement as a compromise, and returned to his domestic +duties, coming, as was natural and easiest, on my side of the tree. His +habit was to cling to the side of the nest, showing his black and +red-gold against it, while his mate alighted on the edge, and was seen a +little above it. After feeding, both perched on neighboring twigs and +looked about for a moment before the next food-hunting trip. I thought +the father of the family exhibited an air of resignation, as if he +concluded that, since the babies made so much noise, there was no use in +trying longer to preserve the secret.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, both our orioles need a good stock of patience as +well as of resignation, for the infants of both are unceasing in their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>cries, and fertile in inventing variations in manner and inflection, +that would deceive those most familiar with them. Two or three times in +the weeks that followed, I rushed out of the house to find some very +distressed bird, who, I was sure, from the cries, must be impaled alive +on a butcher-bird's meat-hook, or undergoing torture at the hands—or +beak of somebody. It was rather dangerous going out at that time (just +at dusk), for it was the chosen hour for young men and maidens, of whom +there were several, to wander about under the trees. Often, before I +gave up going out at that hour, my glass, turned to follow a flitting +wing, would bring before my startled gaze a pair of sentimental young +persons, who doubtless thought I was spying upon them. My only safety +was in directing my glass into the trees, where nothing but wings could +be sentimental, and if a bird flitted below the level of branches, to +consider him lost. On following up the cry, I always found a young +oriole and a hard-worked father feeding him. The voice did not even +suggest an oriole to me, until I had been deceived two or three times +and understood it.</p> + +<p>The young ones of the orchard oriole's nest lived up to the traditions +of the family by being inveterate cry-babies, and making so much noise +they could be heard far around. Sometimes <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>their mother addressed them +in a similar tone to their own, but the father resigned himself to the +inevitable, and fed with dogged perseverance.</p> + +<p>The apple-tree nest looked in the morning sun of a bright flax color, +and two of the young were mounted on the edge, dressing their yellow +satin breasts, and gleaming in the sunshine like gold.</p> + +<p>A Baltimore oriole, passing over, seemed to be attracted by a familiar +quality of sound, for he came down, alighted about a foot from the nest, +and looked with interest upon the charming family scene. The protector +of the pretty brood was near, but he kept his seat, and made no +objections to the friendly call. Indeed, he flew away while the guest +was still there, and having satisfied his curiosity, the Baltimore also +departed upon his own business.</p> + +<p>When the sun appeared over the tree-tops, he came armed with all his +terrors. The breeze dwindled and died; the very leaves hung lifeless on +the trees, and though, knowing that</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Somewhere the wind is blowing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Though here where I gasp and sigh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Not a breath of air is stirring,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Not a cloud in the burning sky,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">the memory might comfort me, it did not in the slightest degree make me +comfortable—I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>wilted, and retired before it. How the birds could +endure it and carry on their work, I could not understand.</p> + +<p>At noon I ventured out over the burning grass. The first youngster had +left the nest, and was shouting from a tree perhaps twenty feet beyond +the native apple. The others were fluttering on the edge, crying as +usual. As is the customary domestic arrangement with many birds, the +moment the first one flew, the father stopped coming to the nest, and +devoted himself to the straggler, which was a little hard on the mother +that hot day, for she had four to feed.</p> + +<p>While I looked on, the second infant mustered up courage to start on the +journey of life. A tall twig led from the nest straight up into the air, +and this was the ladder he mounted. Step by step he climbed one +leaf-stem after another, with several pauses to cry and to eat, and at +last reached the topmost point, where he turned his face to the west, +and took his first survey of the kingdoms of the earth. A brother +nestling was close behind him, and the pretty pair, seeing no more steps +above them, rested a while from their labors. In the mean time the first +young oriole had gone farther into the trees, and papa with him.</p> + +<p>The little dame worked without ceasing, though it must have been an +anxious time, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>nestlings all stirring abroad. I noticed that she +fed oftenest the birdlings who were out, whether to strengthen them for +further effort, or to offer an inducement to those in the nest to come +up higher where food was to be had, she did not tell. I observed, also, +that when she came home she did not, as before, alight on the level of +the little ones, but above them. Perhaps this was to coax them upward; +at any rate, it had that effect: they stretched up and mounted the next +stem above, and so they kept on ascending. About three o'clock I was +again obliged to surrender to the power of the sun, and retire for a +season to a place he could not enter, the house.</p> + +<p>Some hours passed before I made my next call, and I found that oriole +matters had not rested, if I had; the two nestlings had taken flight to +the tree the first one had chosen, and three were on the top twig above +the nest, which latter swung empty and deserted. Mamma was feeding the +three in her own tree, while papa attended as usual to the outsiders, +and found leisure to drop in a song now and then.</p> + +<p>While I watched, number three took his life in his hands (as it were) +and launched out upon the air. He reached a tree not so far away as his +brothers had chosen, and his mother sought him out and fed him there. +But he did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>not seem to be satisfied with his achievement, or possibly +he found the position rather lonely; at any rate, the next use of his +wings was to return to his native apple, to the lower part. During this +visit, the mother of the little brood, seeing, I suppose, her labors +growing lighter, indulged herself and delighted me with a scrap of song, +very sweet, as the song of the female oriole always is.</p> + +<p>It was with forebodings that I approached the tree the next morning, +foreboding speedily confirmed—the whole family was gone! Either I had +not stayed late enough or I had not got up early enough to see the +flitting; that song, then, meant something—it was my good-by.</p> + +<p>Indeed it turned out to be my farewell, as I thought, for the whole +tribe seemed to have vanished. Usually it is not difficult to hunt up a +little bird family in its wanderings, during the month following its +leaving the nest, but this one I could neither see nor hear, and I was +very sure those oriole babies had not so soon outgrown their crying; +they must have been struck dumb or left the place.</p> + +<p>Nearly three weeks later I was wandering about in what was called the +glen, half a mile or more from where the apple-tree babies had first +seen the light. It was a wild spot, a ravine, through which ran a +stream, where many <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>wood-birds sang and nested. On approaching a +linden-tree loaded with blossoms, and humming with swarms of bees, I was +saluted with a burst of loud song, interspersed with scolding. No one +but an orchard oriole could so mix things, and sure enough! there he +was, scrambling over the flowers. Something he found to his taste, +whether the blossoms or the insects, I could not decide. On waiting a +little, I heard the young oriole cry, much subdued since nesting days, +and the tender "ye-ep" of the parent. The whole family was evidently +there together, and I was very glad to see them once more.</p> + +<p>The nest, which I had brought down, was a beautiful structure, made, I +think, of very fine excelsior of a bright straw-color. It was suspended +in an upright fork of four twigs, and lashed securely to three of them, +while a few lines were passed around the fourth. Though it was in a +fork, it did not rest on it, but was suspended three inches above it, a +genuine hanging nest. It was three inches deep and wide, but drawn in +about the top to a width of not more than two inches, with a bit of +cotton and two small feathers for bedding. How five babies could grow up +in that little cup is a problem. The material was woven closely +together, and in addition stitched through and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>through, up and down, to +make a firm structure. Around and against it hung still six apples, +defrauded of their manifest destiny, and remaining the size of +hickory-nuts. Three twigs that ran up were cut off, but the fourth was +left, the tallest, the one sustaining the burden of the nest, and upon +which the young birds, one after another, had mounted to take their +first flight.</p> + +<p>This pretty hammock, in its setting of leaves and apples, still swinging +from the apple boughs, I brought home as a souvenir of a charming bird +study.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XVII.</h2> + +<h2>CEDAR-TREE LITTLE FOLK.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">'T is there that the wild dove has her nest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">And whenever the branches stir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">She presses closer the eggs to her breast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">And her mate looks down on her.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 17.5em;"><span class="smcap">Clare Beatrice Coffey.</span></p> + + +<p>One of the voices that helped to make my June musical, and one more +constantly heard than any other, was that of the</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Mourning dove who grieves and grieves,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And lost! lost! lost! still seems to say,"</span></p> + +<p class="noin">as the poet has it.</p> + +<p>Now, while I dearly love the poets, and always long to enrich my plain +prose with gems from their verse, it is sometimes a little embarrassing, +because one is obliged to disagree with them. If they would only look a +little into the ways of birds, and not assert, in language so musical +that one can hardly resist it, that</p> + +<p class="cen">"The birds come back to last year's nests,"</p> + +<p class="noin">when rarely was a self-respecting bird known to shirk the labor of +building anew for every family; or sing, with Sill,</p> + +<p class="cen">"He has lost his last year's love, I know,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p class="noin">when he did not know any such thing; and add,</p> + +<p class="cen">"A thrush forgets in a year,"</p> + +<p class="noin">which I call a libel on one of our most intelligent birds; or cry, with +another singer,</p> + +<p class="cen">"O voiceless swallow,"</p> + +<p class="noin">when not one of the whole tribe is defrauded of a voice, and at least +one is an exquisite singer; or accuse the nightingale of the superfluous +idiocy of holding his (though they always say her) breast to a thorn as +he sings, as if he were so foolish as to imitate some forms of human +self-torture,—if they would only be a little more sure of their facts, +what a comfort it would be to those who love both poets and birds!</p> + +<p>No bird in our country is more persistently misrepresented by our sweet +singers than the Carolina or wood dove—mourning dove, as he is +popularly called; and in this case they are not to be blamed, for prose +writers, even natural history writers, are quite as bad.</p> + +<p>"His song consists," says one, "of four notes: the first seems to be +uttered with an inspiration of the breath, as if the afflicted creature +were just recovering its voice from the last convulsive sob of distress, +and followed by three long, deep, and mournful moanings, that no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>person +of sensibility can listen to without sympathy." "The solemn voice of +sorrow," another writer calls it. All this is mere sentimentality, pure +imagination; and if the writers could sit, as I have, under the tree +when the bird was singing, they would change their opinion, though they +would thereby lose a pretty and attractive sentiment for their verse. I +believe there is</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"No beast or bird in earth or sky,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Whose voice doth not with gladness thrill,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">though it may not so express itself to our senses. Certainly the coo of +the dove is anything but sad when heard very near. It has a rich, +far-off sound, expressing deep serenity, and a happiness beyond words.</p> + +<p>First in the morning, and last at night, all through June, came to me +the song of the dove. As early as four o'clock his notes began, and +then, if I got up to look out on the lawn, where I had spread breakfast +for him and other feathered friends, I would see him walking about with +dainty steps on his pretty red toes, looking the pink of propriety in +his Quaker garb, his satin vest smooth as if it had been ironed down, +and quite worthy his reputed character for meekness and gentleness.</p> + +<p>But I wanted to see the dove far from the "madding crowd" of blackbirds, +blue jays, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>red-heads, who, as well as himself, took corn for +breakfast, and I set out to look him up. At first the whole family +seemed to consist of the young, just flying about, sometimes accompanied +by their mother. Apparently the fathers of the race were all off in the +cooing business.</p> + +<p>So early as the second of June I came upon my first pair of young doves, +two charming little creatures, sitting placidly side by side. Grave, +indeed, and very much grown-up looked these drab-coated little folk, +silent and motionless, returning my gaze with an innocent openness that, +it seemed to me, must disarm their most bitter enemy. When I came upon +such a pair, as I frequently did, on the low branch of an apple-tree or +a limb of their native cedar, I stopped instantly to look at them. Not +an eyelid of the youngsters would move; if a head were turned as they +heard me coming, it would remain at precisely that angle as long as I +had patience to stay. They were invariably sitting down with the +appearance of being prepared to stay all day, and almost always side by +side, though looking in different directions, and one was always larger +than the other. A lovely and picturesque group they never failed to +make, and as for any show of hunger or impatience, one could hardly +imagine they ever felt either. In every way they were a violent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>contrast to all their neighbors, the boisterous blue jays, lively +catbirds, blustering robins, and vulgar-mannered blackbirds.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I chanced upon a mother sitting by her youngling, and although +when I found her alone she always flew, beside her little charge she was +dignified and calm in bearing, and looked at me with fearless eyes, +relying, as it appeared, upon absolute stillness, and the resemblance of +her color to the branches, to escape observation; a ruse which must +generally be successful.</p> + +<p>The nest, the remains of which I often saw on the tree where I found an +infant, was the merest apology, hardly more than a platform, just enough +to hold the pair of eggs which they are said always to contain. Indeed, +no baby but a serene dove, with the repose of thirty generations behind +it, could stay in it till his wings grew. As it is, he must be forced to +perch, whether ready or not, for the structure cannot hold together +long. The wonder is that the eggs do not roll out before they are +hatched.</p> + +<p>Several things made the bird an interesting subject for study; his +reputation for meekness, his alleged silence,—except at wooing +time,—and the halo of melancholy with which the poets have invested +him. I resolved to make acquaintance with my gentle neighbor, and I +sought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>and found a favorite retreat of the silent family. This was a +grove away down in the southeast corner of the grounds, little visited +by people, and beloved by birds of several kinds. Till June was half +over, the high grass, that I could not bear to trample, prevented +exploration in that direction, but as soon as it was cut I made a trip +to the little grove, and found it a sort of doves' headquarters, and +there, in many hours of daily study, I learned to know him a little, and +respect him a good deal.</p> + +<p>It was a delightful spot the doves had chosen to live in, and so +frequented by birds that whichever way I turned my face, in two minutes +I wished I had turned it the other, or that I had eyes in the back of my +head. With reason, too, for the residents skipped around behind me, and +all the interesting things went on at my back. I could hear the flit of +wings, low, mysterious sounds, whispering, gentle complaints and +hushings, but if I turned—lo! the scene shifted, and the drama of life +was still enacted out of my sight. Yet I managed, in spite of this +difficulty, to learn several things I did not know before.</p> + +<p>No one attends to his own business more strictly than the dove. On the +ground, where he came for corn, he seemed to see no other bird, and paid +not the slightest heed to me in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>my window, but went about his own +affairs in the most matter-of-fact way. Yet I cannot agree with the +common opinion, which has made his name a synonym for all that is meek +and gentle. He has a will of his own, and a "mild but firm" way of +securing it. Sometimes, when all were busy at the corn, one of my +Quaker-clad guests would take a notion, for what reason I could not +discover, that some other dove must not stay, and he would drive him (or +her) off. He was not rude or blustering, like the robin, nor did he make +offensive remarks, after the manner of a blackbird; he simply signified +his intention of having his neighbor go, and go he did, <i>nolens volens</i>.</p> + +<p>It was droll to see how this "meek and gentle" fellow met blackbird +impudence. If one of the sable gentry came down too near a dove, the +latter gave a little hop and rustled his feathers, but did not move one +step away. For some occult reason the blackbird seemed to respect this +mild protest, and did not interfere again.</p> + +<p>Would one suspect so solemn a personage of joking? yet what else could +this little scene mean? A blackbird was on the ground eating, when a +dove flew down and hovered over him as though about to alight upon him. +It evidently impressed the blackbird exactly as it did me, for he +scrambled out from under, very hastily. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>But the dove had no intention +of the sort; he came calmly down on one side.</p> + +<p>The first dove baby who accompanied its parent to the ground to be fed +was the model of propriety one would expect from the demure infant +already mentioned. He stood crouching to the ground in silence, +fluttering his wings a little, but making no sound, either of begging, +or when fed. A blackbird came to investigate this youngster, so +different from his importunate offspring, upon which both doves flew.</p> + +<p>There is a unique quality claimed for the dove: that with the exception +of the well-known coo in nesting time he is absolutely silent, and that +the noise which accompanies his flight is the result of a peculiar +formation of the wing that causes a whistle. Of this I had strong +doubts. I could not believe that a bird who has so much to say for +himself during wooing and nesting time could be utterly silent the rest +of the year; nor, indeed, do I believe that any living creature, so +highly organized as the feathered tribes, can be entirely without +expression.</p> + +<p>I thought I would experiment a little, and one day, observing that a +young dove spent most of his time alone on a certain cedar-tree, where a +badly used-up nest showed that he had probably been hatched, or feeding +on the ground near it, I resolved to see if I could draw him out. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>I +passed him six times a day, going and coming from my meals, and I always +stopped to look at him—a scrutiny which he bore unmoved, in dove +fashion. So one morning, when I stood three feet from him, I began a +very low whistle to him. He was at once interested, and after about +three calls he answered me, very low, it is true, but still +unmistakably. Though he replied, however, it appeared to make him +uneasy, for while he had been in the habit of submitting to my staring +without being in any way disconcerted, he now began to fidget about. He +stood up, changed his place, flew to a higher branch, and in a few +moments to the next tree; all the time, however, answering my calls.</p> + +<p>I was greatly interested in my new acquaintance, and the next day I +renewed my advances. As before, he answered, looking bright and eager, +as I had never seen one of his kind look, and after three or four +replies he became uneasy, as on the previous day, and in a moment he +flew. But I was surprised and startled by his starting straight for me. +I thought he would certainly alight on me, and such, I firmly believe, +was his inclination, but he apparently did not quite dare trust me, so +he passed over by a very few inches, and perched on the tree I was +under. Then—still replying to me—he flew to the ground not six feet +from me, and step by step, slowly moved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>away perhaps fifteen feet, when +he turned and flew back to his own tree beside me. I was pleased to +notice that the voice of this talkative dovekin was of the same quality +as the "whistling" said to be of the wings, when a dove flies.</p> + +<p>The last interview I had with the dear baby, I found him sitting with +his back toward me, but the instant I whistled he turned around to face +me, and seated himself again. He replied to me, and fluttered his wings +slightly, yet he soon became restless, as usual. He did not fly, +however, and he answered louder than he had done previously, but I found +that my call must be just right to elicit a response. I might whistle +all day and he would pay no attention, till I uttered a two-note call, +the second note a third above the first and the two slurred together. I +was delighted to find that even a dove, and a baby at that, could "talk +back." He was unique in other ways; for example, in being content to +pass his days in, and around, his own tree. I do not believe he had ever +been farther than a small group of cedars, ten feet from his own. I +always found him there, though he could fly perfectly well. This +interview was, I regret to say, the last; the next morning my little +friend was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps mamma thought he was getting too +friendly with one of a race capable of eating a baby dove.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>After this episode in my dove acquaintance, I was more than ever +interested in getting at the mode of expression in the family, and I +listened on every occasion. One day two doves alighted over my head when +I was sitting perfectly still, and I distinctly heard very low talk, +like that of my lost baby; there was, in addition, a note or two like +the coo, but exceedingly low. I could not have heard a sound ten feet +from the tree, nor if I had been stirring myself. I observed also that a +dove can fly in perfect silence; and, moreover, that the whistle of the +wings sometimes continues after the bird has become still. I heard the +regular coo—the whole four-note performance—both in a whisper and in +the ordinary tone, and the latter, though right over my head, sounded a +mile away. At the end of my month's study I was convinced that the dove +is far from being a silent bird; on the contrary, he is quite a talker, +with the "low, sweet voice" so much desired in other quarters. And +further, that the whistling is not produced wholly (if at all) by the +wings, and it is a gross injustice to assert that he is not capable of +expressing himself at all times and seasons.</p> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>BESIDE THE GREAT SALT LAKE.</h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Up!—If thou knew'st who calls</span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">To twilight parks of beach and pine</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">High o'er the river intervals,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Above the plowman's highest line,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Over the owner's farthest walls!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Up! where the airy citadel</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">O'erlooks the surging landscape's swell!</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 20.5em;"><span class="smcap">Emerson.</span></p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XVIII.</h2> + +<h2>IN A PASTURE.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The word "pasture," as used on the shore of the Great Salt Lake, conveys +no true idea to one whose associations with that word have been formed +in States east of the Rocky Mountains. Imagine an extensive inclosure on +the side of a mountain, with its barren-looking soil strewn with rocks +of all sizes, from a pebble to a bowlder, cut across by an irrigating +ditch or a mountain brook, dotted here and there by sage bushes, and +patches of oak-brush, and wild roses, and one has a picture of a Salt +Lake pasture. Closely examined, it has other peculiarities. There is no +half way in its growths, no shading off, so to speak, as elsewhere; not +an isolated shrub, not a solitary tree, flourishes in the strange soil, +but trees and shrubs crowd together as if for protection, and the clump, +of whatever size or shape, ends abruptly, with the desert coming up to +its very edge. Yet the soil, though it seems to be the driest and most +unpromising of baked gray mud, needs nothing more than a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>little water, +to clothe itself luxuriantly; the course of a brook or even an +irrigating ditch, if permanent, is marked by a thick and varied border +of greenery. What the poor creatures who wandered over those dreary +wastes could find to eat was a problem to be solved only by close +observation of their ways.</p> + +<p>"H. H." said some years ago that the magnificent yucca, the glory of the +Colorado mesas, was being exterminated by wandering cows, who ate the +buds as soon as they appeared. The cattle of Utah—or their owners—have +a like crime to answer for; not only do they constantly feed upon +rose-buds and leaves, notwithstanding the thorns, but they regale +themselves upon nearly every flower-plant that shows its head; lupines +were the chosen dainty of my friend's horse. The animals become expert +at getting this unnatural food; it is curious to watch the deftness with +which a cow will go through a currant or gooseberry bush, thrusting her +head far down among the branches, and carefully picking off the tender +leaves, while leaving the stems untouched, and the matter-of-course way +in which she will bend over and pull down a tall sapling, to despoil it +of its foliage.</p> + +<p>In a pasture such as I have described, on the western slope of one of +the Rocky Mountains, desolate and forbidding though it looked, many +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>hours of last summer's May and June "went their way," if not</p> + +<p class="cen">"As softly as sweet dreams go down the night,"</p> + +<p class="noin">certainly with interest and pleasure to two bird-students whose ways I +have sometimes chronicled.</p> + +<p>Most conspicuous, as we toiled upward toward our breezy pasture, was a +bird whose chosen station was a fence—a wire fence at that. He was a +tanager; not our brilliant beauty in scarlet and black, but one far more +gorgeous and eccentric in costume, having, with the black wings and tail +of our bird, a breast of shining yellow and a cap of crimson. His +occupation on the sweet May mornings that he lingered with us, on his +way up the mountains for the summer, was the familiar one of getting his +living, and to that he gave his mind without reserve. Not once did he +turn curious eyes upon us as we sauntered by or rested awhile to watch +him. Eagerly his pretty head turned this way and that, but not for us; +it was for the winged creatures of the air he looked, and when one that +pleased his fancy fluttered by he dashed out and secured it, returning +to a post or the fence just as absorbed and just as eager for the next +one. Every time he alighted it was a few feet farther down the fence, +and thus he worked his way out of our sight, without seeming aware of +our existence.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>This was not stupidity on the part of the crimson-head, nor was it +foolhardiness; it was simply trust in his guardian, for he had one,—one +who watched every movement of ours with close attention, whose vigilance +was never relaxed, and who appeared, when we saw her, to be above the +need of food. A plain personage she was, clad in modest, dull +yellow,—the female tanager. She was probably his mate; at any rate, she +gradually followed him down the fence, keeping fifteen or twenty feet +behind him, all the time with an eye on us, ready to give warning of the +slightest aggressive movement on our part. It would be interesting to +know how my lord behaves up in those sky-parlors where their summer +homes are made. No doubt he is as tender and devoted as most of his race +(all his race, I would say, if Mr. Torrey had not shaken our faith in +the ruby-throat), and I have no doubt that the little red-heads in the +nest will be well looked after and fed by their fly-catching papa.</p> + +<p>Far different from the cool unconcern of the crimson-headed tanager were +the manners of another red-headed dweller on the mountain. The +green-tailed towhee he is called in the books, though the red of his +head is much more conspicuous than the green of his tail. In this bird +the high-bred repose of his neighbor was replaced by the most fussy +restlessness. When <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>we surprised him on the lowest wire of the fence, he +was terribly disconcerted, not to say thrown into a panic. He usually +stood a moment, holding his long tail up in the air, flirted his wings, +turned his body this way and that in great excitement, then hopped to +the nearest bowlder, slipped down behind it, and ran off through the +sage bushes like a mouse. More than this we were never able to see, and +where he lived and how his spouse looked we do not know to this day.</p> + +<p>Most interesting of the birds that we saw on our daily way to the +pasture were the gulls; great, beautiful, snowy creatures, who looked +strangely out of place so far away from the seashore. Stranger, too, +than their change of residence was their change of manners from the +wild, unapproachable sea-birds, soaring and diving, and apparently +spending their lives on wings such as the poet sings,—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"When I had wings, my brother,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Such wings were mine as thine;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">and of whose lives he further says,—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"What place man may, we claim it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">But thine,—whose thought may name it?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Free birds live higher than freemen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">And gladlier ye than we."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>From this high place in our thoughts, from this realm of poetry and +mystery, to come down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>almost to the tameness of the barnyard fowl is a +marvelous transformation, and one is tempted to believe the solemn +announcement of the Salt Lake prophet, that the Lord sent them to his +chosen people.</p> + +<p>The occasion of this alleged special favor to the Latter Day Saints was +the advent, about twenty years ago, of clouds of grasshoppers, before +which the crops of the Western States and Territories were destroyed as +by fire. It was then, in their hour of greatest need, when the food upon +which depended a whole people was threatened, that these beautiful +winged messengers appeared. In large flocks they came, from no one knows +where, and settled, like so many sparrows, all over the land, devouring +almost without ceasing the hosts of the foe. The crops were saved, and +all Deseret rejoiced. Was it any wonder that a people trained to regard +the head of their church as the direct representative of the Highest +should believe these to be really birds of God, and should accordingly +cherish them? Well would it be for themselves if other Christian peoples +were equally believing, and protected and cherished other winged +messengers, sent just as truly to protect their crops.</p> + +<p>The shrewd man who wielded the destinies of his people beside the Salt +Lake secured the future usefulness of what they considered the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>miraculous visitation by fixing a penalty of five dollars upon the head +of every gull in the Territory. And now, the birds having found +congenial nesting-places on solitary islands in the lake, their +descendants are so fearless and so tame that they habitually follow the +plow like a flock of chickens, rising from almost under the feet of the +indifferent horses and settling down at once in the furrow behind, +seeking out and eating greedily all the worms and grubs and larvæ and +mice and moles that the plow has disturbed in its passage. The Mormon +cultivator has sense enough to appreciate such service, and no man or +boy dreams of lifting a finger against his best friend.</p> + +<p>Extraordinary indeed was this sight to eyes accustomed to seeing every +bird who attempts to render like service shot and snared and swept from +the face of the earth. Our hearts warmed toward the "Sons of Zion," and +our respect for their intelligence increased, as we hurried down to the +field to see this latter-day wonder.</p> + +<p>Whether the birds distinguished between "saints" and sinners, or whether +their confidence extended only to plow-boys, they would not let us come +near them. But our glasses brought them close, and we had a very good +study of them, finding exceeding interest in their ways: their quaint +faces as they flew toward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>us; their dignified walk; their expression of +disapproval, lifting the wings high above the back till they met; their +queer and constant cries in the tone of a child who whines; and, above +all, their use of the wonderful wings,—"half wing, half wave," Mrs. +Spofford calls them.</p> + +<p>To rise from the earth upon these beautiful great arms, seemed to be not +so easy as it looks. Some of the graceful birds lifted them, and ran a +little before leaving the ground, and all of them left both legs +hanging, and both feet jerking awkwardly at every wing-beat, for a few +moments on starting, before they carefully drew each flesh-colored foot +up into its feather pillow,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"And gray and silver up the dome</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">Of gray and silver skies went sailing,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">in ever-widening circles, without moving a feather that we could +perceive. It was charming to see how nicely they folded down their +splendid wings on alighting, stretching each one out, and apparently +straightening every feather before laying it into its place.</p> + +<p>Several hours this interesting flock accompanied the horses and man +around the field, taking possession of each furrow as it was laid open, +and chattering and eating as fast as they could; and the question +occurred to me, if a field that is thoroughly gleaned over every spring +furnishes so great a supply of creatures hurtful to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>vegetation, what +must be the state of grounds which are carefully protected from such +gleaning, on which no bird is allowed to forage?</p> + +<p>As noon approached, the hour when "birds their wise siesta take," +although the plow did not cease its monotonous round, the birds retired +in a body to the still untouched middle of the field, and settled +themselves for their "nooning," dusting themselves—their snowy +plumes!—like hens on an ash heap, sitting about in knots like parties +of ducks, preening and shaking themselves out, or going at once to +sleep, according to their several tastes. Half an hour's rest sufficed +for the more active spirits, and then they treated us, their patient +observers, to an aërial exhibition. A large number, perhaps three +quarters of the flock, rose in a body and began a spiral flight. Higher +and higher they went, in wider and wider circles, till, against the +white clouds, they looked like a swarm of midges, and against the blue +the eye could not distinguish them. Then from out of the sky dropped one +after another, leaving the soaring flock looking wonderfully ethereal +and gauzy in the clear air, with the sun above him, almost like a spirit +bird gliding motionless through the ether till he alighted at last +quietly beside his fellows on the ground. In another half hour they were +all behind the plow again, hard at work.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>When we had looked our fill, we straightway sought out and questioned +some of the wise men among the "peculiar people." This is what we +learned: that when plowing is over the birds retire to their home, an +island in the lake, where, being eminently social birds, their nests are +built in a community. Their beneficent service to mankind does not end +with the plowing season, for when that is over they turn their attention +to the fish that are brought into the lake by the fresh-water streams, +at once strangled by its excess of salt, and their bodies washed up on +the shore. What would become of the human residents if that animal +deposit were left for the fierce sun to dispose of, may perhaps be +imagined. The gull should, indeed, be a sacred bird in Utah.</p> + +<p>What drew us first to the pasture—which we came to at last—was our +search for a magpie's nest. The home of this knowing fellow is the Rocky +Mountain region, and, naturally, he was the first bird we thought of +looking for. There would be no difficulty in finding nests, we thought, +for we came upon magpies everywhere in our walks. Now one alighted on a +fence-post a few yards ahead of us, earnestly regarding our approach, +tilting upward his long, expressive tail, the black of his plumage +shining with brilliant blue reflections, and the white fairly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>dazzling +the eyes. Again we caught glimpses of two or three of the beautiful +birds walking about on the ground, holding their precious tails well up +from the earth, and gleaning industriously the insect life of the horse +pasture. At one moment we were saluted from the top of a tall tree, or +shrieked at by one passing over our heads, looking like an immense +dragonfly against the sky. Magpie voices were heard from morning till +night; strange, loud calls of "mag! mag!" were ever in our ears. "Oh, +yes," we had said, "we must surely go out some morning and find a nest."</p> + +<p>First we inquired. Everybody knew where they built, in oak-brush or in +apple-trees, but not a boy in that village knew where there was a nest. +Oh, no, not one! A man confessed to the guilty secret, and, directed by +him, we took a long walk through the village with its queer little +houses, many of them having the two front doors which tell the tale of +Mormondom within; up the long sidewalk, with a beautiful bounding +mountain brook running down the gutter, as if it were a tame irrigating +ditch, to a big gate in a "combination fence." What this latter might be +we had wondered, but relied upon knowing it when we saw it,—and we did: +it was a fence of laths held together by wires woven between them, and +we recognized the fitness of the name <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>instantly. Then on through the +big gate, down a long lane where we ran the gauntlet of the family cows; +over or under bars, where awaited us a tribe of colts with their anxious +mammas; and at last to the tree and the nest. There our guide met us and +climbed up to explore. Alas! the nest robber had anticipated us.</p> + +<p>Slowly we took our way home, resolved to ask no more help, but to seek +for ourselves, for the nest that is <i>known</i> is the nest that is robbed. +So the next morning, armed with camp-chairs and alpenstocks, +drinking-cups and notebooks, we started up the mountain, where we could +at least find solitude, and the fresh air of the hills. We climbed till +we were tired, and then, as was our custom, sat down to rest and +breathe, and see who lived in that part of the world. Without thought of +the height we had reached, we turned our backs to the mountain, rising +bare and steep before us, and behold! the outlook struck us dumb.</p> + +<p>There at our feet lay the village, smothered in orchards and +shade-trees, the locusts, just then huge bouquets of graceful bloom and +delicious odor, buzzing with hundreds of bees and humming-birds; beyond +was a stretch of cultivated fields in various shades of green and brown; +and then the lake,—beautiful and wonderful Salt Lake,—glowing with +exquisite colors, now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>hyacinth blue, changing in places to tender green +or golden brown, again sparkling like a vast bed of diamonds. In the +foreground lay Antelope Island, in hues of purple and bronze, with its +chain of hills and graceful sky-line; and resting on the horizon beyond +were the peaks of the grand Oquirrhs, capped with snow. Well might we +forget our quest while gazing on this impressive scene, trying to fix +its various features in our memories, to be an eternal possession.</p> + +<p>We were recalled to the business in hand by the sudden appearance on the +top of a tree below us of one of the birds we sought. The branch bent +and swayed as the heavy fellow settled upon it, and in a moment a +comrade came, calling vigorously, and alighted on a neighboring branch. +A few minutes they remained, with flirting tails, conversing in +garrulous tones, then together they rose on broad wings, and passed +away—away over the fields, almost out of sight, before they dropped +into a patch of oak-brush. After them appeared others, and we sat there +a long time, hoping to see at least one that had its home within our +reach. But every bird that passed over turned its face to the mountains; +some seemed to head for the dim Oquirrhs across the lake, while others +disappeared over the top of the Wasatch behind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>us; not one paused in +our neighborhood, excepting long enough to look at us, and express its +opinion in loud and not very polite tones.</p> + +<p>It was then and there that we noticed our pasture; the entrance was +beside us. Shall we go in? was always the question before an inclosure. +We looked over the wall. It was plainly the abode of horses, meek +work-a-day beings, who certainly would not resent our intrusion. +Oak-brush was there in plenty, and that is the chosen home of the +magpie. We hesitated; we started for the gate. It was held in place by a +rope elaborately and securely tied in many knots; but we had learned +something about the gates of this "promised land,"—that between the +posts and the stone wall may usually be found space enough to slip +through without disturbing the fastenings.</p> + +<p>In that country no one goes through a gate who can possibly go around +it, and well is it indeed for the stranger and the wayfarer in "Zion" +that such is the custom, for the idiosyncrasies of gates were endless; +they agreed only in never fitting their place and never opening +properly. If the gate was in one piece, it sagged so that it must be +lifted; or it had lost one hinge, and fell over on the rash individual +who loosened the fastenings; or it was about falling to pieces, and must +be handled like a piece of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>choice bric-a-brac. If it had a latch, it +was rusty or did not fit; and if it had not, it was fastened, either by +a board slipped in to act as a bar and never known to be of proper size, +or in some occult way which would require the skill of "the lady from +Philadelphia" to undo. If it was of the fashion that opens in the +middle, each individual gate had its particular "kink," which must be +learned by the uninitiated before he—or, what is worse, she—could +pass. Many were held together by a hoop or link of iron, dropped over +the two end posts; but whether the gate must be pulled out or pushed in, +and at exactly what angle it would consent to receive the link, was to +be found out only by experience.</p> + +<p>But not all gates were so simple even as this: the ingenuity with which +a variety of fastenings,—all to avoid the natural and obvious one of a +hook and staple,—had been evolved in the rural mind was fairly +startling. The energy and thought that had been bestowed upon this +little matter of avoiding a gate-hook would have built a bridge across +Salt Lake, or tunneled the Uintas for an irrigating ditch.</p> + +<p>Happily, we too had learned to "slip through," and we passed the gate +with its rope puzzle, and the six or eight horses who pointed inquiring +ears toward their unwonted visitors, and hastened to get under cover +before the birds, if any lived there, should come home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>The oak-brush, which we then approached, is a curious and interesting +form of vegetation. It is a mass of oak-trees, all of the same age, +growing as close as they can stand, with branches down to the ground. It +looks as if each patch had sprung from a great fall of acorns from one +tree, or perhaps were shoots from the roots of a perished tree. The +clumps are more or less irregularly round, set down in a barren piece of +ground, or among the sage bushes. At a distance, on the side of a +mountain, they resemble patches of moss of varying shape. When two or +three feet high, one is a thick, solid mat; when it reaches an altitude +of six to eight feet, it is an impenetrable thicket; except, that is, +when it happens to be in a pasture. Horses and cattle find such scanty +pickings in the fields, that they nibble every green thing, even oak +leaves, and so they clear the brush as high as they can reach. When +therefore it is fifteen feet high, there is a thick roof the animals are +not able to reach, and one may look through a patch to the light beyond. +The stems and lower branches, though kept bare of leaves, are so close +together and so intertwined and tangled, that forcing one's way through +it is an impossibility. But the horses have made and kept open paths in +every direction, and this turns it into a delightful grove, a cool +retreat, which others appreciate as well as the makers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>Selecting a favorable-looking clump of oak-brush, we attempted to get in +without using the open horse paths, where we should be in plain sight. +Melancholy was the result; hats pulled off, hair disheveled, garments +torn, feet tripped, and wounds and scratches innumerable. Several +minutes of hard work and stubborn endurance enabled us to penetrate not +more than half a dozen feet, when we managed, in some sort of fashion, +to sit down, on opposite sides of the grove. Then, relying upon our +"protective coloring" (not evolved, but carefully selected in the +shops), we subsided into silence, hoping not to be observed when the +birds came home, for there was the nest before us.</p> + +<p>A wise and canny builder is Madam Mag, for though her home must be large +to accommodate her size, and conspicuous because of the shallowness of +the foliage above her, it is, in a way, a fortress, to despoil which the +marauder must encounter a weapon not to be despised,—a stout beak, +animated and impelled by indignant motherhood. The structure was made of +sticks, and enormous in size; a half-bushel measure would hardly hold +it. It was covered, as if to protect her, and it had two openings under +the cover, toward either of which she could turn her face. It looked +like a big, coarsely woven basket resting in a crotch up under the +leaves, with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>nearly close cover supported by a small branch above. +The sitting bird could draw herself down out of sight, or she could +defend herself and her brood, at either entrance.</p> + +<p>In my retreat, I had noted all these points before any sign of life +appeared in the brush. Then there came a low cry of "mag! mag!" and the +bird entered near the ground. She alighted on a dead branch, which swung +back and forth, while she kept her balance with her beautiful tail. She +did not appear to look around; apparently she had no suspicions and did +not notice us, sitting motionless and breathless in our respective +places. Her head was turned to the nest, and by easy stages and with +many pauses, she made her way to it. I could not see that she had a +companion, for I dared not stir so much as a finger; but while she moved +about near the nest there came to the eager listeners on the ground low +and tender utterances in the sweetest of voices,—whether one or two I +know not,—and at last a song, a true melody, of a yearning, thrilling +quality that few song-birds, if any, can excel. I was astounded! Who +would suspect the harsh-voiced, screaming magpie of such notes! I am +certain that the bird or birds had no suspicion of listeners to the home +talk and song, for after we were discovered, we heard nothing of the +sort.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>This little episode ended, madam slipped into her nest, and all became +silent, she in her place and I in mine. If this state of things could +only remain; if she would only accept me as a tree-trunk or a misshapen +bowlder, and pay no attention to me, what a beautiful study I should +have! Half an hour, perhaps more, passed without a sound, and then the +silence was broken by magpie calls from without. The sitting bird left +the nest and flew out of the grove, quite near the ground; I heard much +talk and chatter in low tones outside, and they flew. I slipped out as +quickly as possible, wishing indeed that I had wings as she had, and +went home, encouraged to think I should really be able to study the +magpie.</p> + +<p>But I did not know my bird. The next day, before I knew she was about, +she discovered me, though it was plain that she hoped I had not +discovered her. Instantly she became silent and wary, coming to her nest +over the top of the trees, so quietly that I should not have known it +except for her shadow on the leaves. No talk or song now fell upon my +ear; calls outside were few and subdued. Everything was different from +the natural unconsciousness of the previous day; the birds were on +guard, and henceforth I should be under surveillance.</p> + +<p>From this moment I lost my pleasure in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>study, for I feel little +interest in the actions of a bird under the constraint of an unwelcome +presence, or in the shadow of constant fear and dread. What I care to +see is the natural life, the free, unstudied ways of birds who do not +notice or are not disturbed by spectators. Nor have I any pleasure in +going about the country staring into every tree, and poking into every +bush, thrusting irreverent hands into the mysteries of other lives, and +rudely tearing away the veils that others have drawn around their +private affairs. That they are only birds does not signify to me; for me +they are fellow-creatures; they have rights, which I am bound to +respect.</p> + +<p>I prefer to make myself so little obvious, or so apparently harmless to +a bird, that she will herself show me her nest, or at least the leafy +screen behind which it is hidden. Then, if I take advantage of her +absence to spy upon her treasures, it is as a friend only,—a friend who +respects her desire for seclusion, who never lays profane hands upon +them, and who shares the secret only with one equally reverent and +loving. Naturally I do not find so many nests as do the vandals to whom +nothing is sacred, but I enjoy what I do find, in a way it hath not +entered into their hearts to conceive.</p> + +<p>In spite of my disinclination, we made one more call upon the magpie +family, and this time <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>we had a reception. This bird is intelligent and +by no means a slave to habit; because he has behaved in a certain way +once, there is no law, avian or divine, that compels him to repeat that +conduct on the next occasion. Nor is it safe to generalize about him, or +any other bird for that matter. One cannot say, "The magpie does thus +and so," because each individual magpie has his own way of doing, and +circumstances alter cases, with birds as well as with people.</p> + +<p>On this occasion we placed ourselves boldly, though very quietly, in the +paths that run through the oak-brush. We had abandoned all attempt at +concealment; we could hope only for tolerance. The birds readily +understood; they appreciated that they were seen and watched, and their +manners changed accordingly. The first one of the black-and-white gentry +who entered the grove discovered my comrade, and announced the presence +of the enemy by a loud cry, in what somebody has aptly called a +"frontier tone of voice." Instantly another appeared and added his +remarks; then another, and still another, till within five minutes there +were ten or twelve excited magpies, shouting at the top of their voices, +and hopping and flying about her head, coming ever nearer and nearer, as +if they meditated a personal attack. I did not really fear it, but I +kept close watch, while <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>remaining motionless, in the hope that they +would not notice me. Vain hope! nothing could escape those sharp eyes +when once the bird was aroused. After they had said what they chose to +my friend, who received the taunts and abuse of the infuriated mob in +meek silence, lifting not her voice to reply, they turned the stream of +their eloquence upon me.</p> + +<p>I was equally passive, for indeed I felt that they had a grievance. We +have no right to expect birds to tell one human being from another, so +long as we, with all our boasted intelligence, cannot tell one crow or +one magpie from another; and all the week they had suffered persecution +at the hands of the village boys. Young magpies, nestlings, were in +nearly every house, and the birds had endured pillage, and doubtless +some of them death. I did not blame the grieved parents for the +reception they gave us; from their point of view we belonged to the +enemy.</p> + +<p>After the storm had swept by, and while we sat there waiting to see if +the birds would return, one of the horses of the pasture made his +appearance on the side where I sat, now eating the top of a rosebush, +now snipping off a flower plant that had succeeded in getting two leaves +above the ground, but at every step coming nearer me. It was plain that +he contemplated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>retiring to this shady grove, and, not so observing as +the magpies, did not see that it was already occupied. When he was not +more than ten feet away, I snatched off my sun hat and waved it before +him, not wishing to make a noise. He stopped instantly, stared wildly +for a moment, as if he had never seen such an apparition, then wheeled +with a snort, flung out his heels in disrespect, and galloped off down +the field.</p> + +<p>The incident was insignificant, but the result was curious. So long as +we stayed in that bit of brush, not a horse attempted to enter, though +they all browsed around outside. They avoided it as if it were haunted, +or, as my comrade said, "filled with beckoning forms." Nor was that all; +I have reason to think they never again entered that particular patch of +brush, for, some weeks after we had abandoned the study of magpies and +the pasture altogether, we found the spot transformed, as if by the wand +of enchantment. From the burned-up desert outside we stepped at once +into a miniature paradise, to our surprise, almost our consternation. +Excepting the footpaths through it, it bore no appearance of having ever +been a thoroughfare. Around the foot of every tree had grown up clumps +of ferns or brakes, a yard high, luxuriant, graceful, and exquisite in +form and color; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>and peeping out from under them were flowers, dainty +wildings we had not before seen there. A bit of the tropics or a gem out +of fairyland it looked to our sun and sand weary eyes. Outside were the +burning sun of June, a withering hot wind, and yellow and dead +vegetation; within was cool greenness and a mere rustle of leaves +whispering of the gale. It was the loveliest bit of greenery we saw on +the shores of the Great Salt Lake. It was marvelous; it was almost +uncanny.</p> + +<p>Our daily trips to the pasture had ceased, and other birds and other +nests had occupied our thoughts for a week or two, when we resolved to +pay a last visit to our old haunts, to see if we could learn anything of +the magpies. We went through the pasture, led by the voices of the birds +away over to the farther side, and there, across another fenced pasture, +we heard them plainly, calling and chattering and making much noise, but +in different tones from any we had heard before. Evidently a magpie +nursery had been established over there. We fancied we could distinguish +maternal reproof and loving baby talk, beside the weaker voices of the +young, and we went home rejoicing to believe, that in spite of nest +robbers, and the fright we had given them, some young magpies were +growing up to enliven the world another summer.</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XIX.</h2> + +<h2>THE SECRET OF THE WILD ROSE PATH.</h2> +<br /> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"Shall I call thee Bird,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">Or but a wandering Voice?"</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Wordsworth's lines are addressed to the cuckoo of the Old World, a bird +of unenviable reputation, notorious for imposing his most sacred duties +upon others; naturally, therefore, one who would not court observation, +and whose ways would be somewhat mysterious. But the American +representative of the family is a bird of different manners. Unlike his +namesake across the water, our cuckoo never—or so rarely as practically +to be never—shirks the labor of nest-building and raising a family. He +has no reason to skulk, and though always a shy bird, he is no more so +than several others, and in no sense is he a mystery.</p> + +<p>There is, however, one American bird for whom Wordsworth's verse might +have been written; one whose chief aim seems to be, reversing our +grandmothers' rule for little people, to be heard, and not seen. To be +seen is, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>this peculiar fellow, a misfortune, an accident, which he +avoids with great care, while his voice rings out loud and clear above +all others in the shrubbery. I refer to the yellow-breasted chat +(<i>Icteria virens</i>), whose summer home is the warmer temperate regions of +our country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast, and whose +unbirdlike utterances prepare one to believe the stories told of his +eccentric actions; this, for example, by Dr. Abbott:—</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Aloft in the sunny air he springs;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">To his timid mate he calls;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">With dangling legs and fluttering wings</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">On the tangled smilax falls;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">He mutters, he shrieks—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">A hopeless cry;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">You think that he seeks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">In peace to die,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">But pity him not; 't is the ghostly chat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">An imp if there is one, be sure of that."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>I first knew the chat—if one may be said to know a creature so shy—in +a spot I have elsewhere described, a deserted park at the foot of +Cheyenne Mountain. I became familiar with his various calls and cries +(one can hardly call them songs); I secured one or two fleeting glimpses +of his graceful form; I sought and discovered the nest, which thereupon +my Lady Chat promptly abandoned, though I had not laid a finger upon it; +and last of all, I had the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>sorrow and shame of knowing that my +curiosity had driven the pair from the neighborhood. This was the +Western form of <i>Icteria</i>, differing from the Eastern only in a greater +length of tail, which several of our Rocky Mountain birds affect, for +the purpose, apparently, of puzzling the ornithologist.</p> + +<p>Two years after my unsuccessful attempt to cultivate friendly relations +with "the ghostly chat," the middle of May found me on the shore of the +Great Salt Lake, where I settled myself at the foot of the Wasatch +Mountains, at that point bare, gray, and unattractive, showing miles of +loose bowlders and great patches of sage-bush. In the monotonous +stretches of this shrub, each plant of which looks exactly like every +other, dwelt many shy birds, as well hidden as bobolinks in the meadow +grass, or meadow-larks in the alfalfa.</p> + +<p>But on this mountain side no friendly cover existed from which I could +spy out bird secrets. Whatever my position, and wherever I placed +myself, I was as conspicuous as a tower in the middle of a plain; again, +no shadow of protection was there from the too-ardent sun of Utah, which +drew the vitality from my frame as it did the color from my gown; worse +than these, the everywhere present rocks were the chosen haunts of the +one enemy of a peaceful bird lover, the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>rattlesnake, and I hesitated to +pursue the bird, because I invariably forgot to watch and listen for the +reptile. Bird study under these conditions was impossible, but the place +presented a phase of nature unfamiliar to me, and for a time so +fascinating that every morning my steps turned of themselves "up the +stony pathway to the hills."</p> + +<p>The companion of my walks, a fellow bird-student, was more than +fascinated; she was enraptured. The odorous bush had associations for +her; she reveled in it; she inhaled its fragrance as a delicious +perfume; she filled her pockets with it; she lay for hours at a time on +the ground, where she could bask in the sunshine, and see nothing but +the gray leaves around her and the blue sky above.</p> + +<p>I can hardly tell what was the fascination for me. It was certainly not +the view of the mountains, though mountains are beyond words in my +affections. The truth is, the Rocky Mountains, many of them, need a +certain distance to make them either picturesque or dignified. The range +then daily before our eyes, the Wasatch, was, to dwellers at its feet, +bleak, monotonous, and hopelessly prosaic. The lowest foothills, being +near, hid the taller peaks, as a penny before the eye will hide a whole +landscape.</p> + +<p>Let me not, however, be unjust to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>mountains I love. There is a +range which satisfies my soul, and will rest in my memory forever, a +beautiful picture, or rather a whole gallery of pictures. I can shut my +eyes and see it at this moment, as I have seen it a thousand times. In +the early morning, when the level sun shines on its face, it is like one +continuous mountain reaching across the whole western horizon; it has a +broken and beautiful sky line; Pike's Peak looms up toward the middle, +and lovely Cheyenne ends it in graceful slope on the south; lights and +shadows play over it; its colors change with the changing sky or +atmosphere,—sometimes blue as the heavens, sometimes misty as a dream; +it is wonderfully beautiful then. But wait till the sun gets higher; +look again at noon, or a little later. Behold the whole range has sprung +into life, separated into individuals; gorges are cut where none had +appeared; chasms come to light; cañons and all sorts of divisions are +seen; foothills move forward to their proper places, and taller peaks +turn at angles to each other; shapes and colors that one never suspected +come out in the picture: the transformation is marvelous. But the sun +moves on, the magical moment passes, each mountain slips back into line, +and behold, you see again the morning's picture.</p> + +<p>Indulge me one moment, while I try to show <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>you the last picture +impressed upon my memory as the train bore me, unwilling, away. It was +cloudy, a storm was coming up, and the whole range was in deep shadow, +when suddenly through some rift in the clouds a burst of sunshine fell +upon the "beloved mountain" Cheyenne, and upon it alone. In a moment it +was a smiling picture,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 23.5em;">"Glad</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">With light as with a garment it was clad;"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">all its inequalities, its divisions, its irregularities emphasized, its +greens turned greener, its reds made more glowing,—an unequaled gem for +a parting gift.</p> + +<p>To come back to Utah. One morning, on our way up to the heights, as we +were passing a clump of oak-brush, a bird cry rang out. The voice was +loud and clear, and the notes were of a peculiar character: first a +"chack" two or three times repeated, then subdued barks like those of a +distressed puppy, followed by hoarse "mews" and other sounds suggesting +almost any creature rather than one in feathers. But with delight I +recognized the chat; my enthusiasm instantly revived. I unfolded my camp +chair, placed myself against a stone wall on the opposite side of the +road, and became silent and motionless as the wall itself.</p> + +<p>My comrade, on the contrary, as was her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>custom, proceeded with equal +promptness to follow the bird up, to hunt him out. She slipped between +the barbed wires which, quite unnecessarily, one would suppose, defended +the bleak pasture from outside encroachment, and passed out of sight +down an obscure path that led into the brush where the bird was hidden. +Though our ways differ, or rather, perhaps, <i>because</i> our ways differ, +we are able to study in company. Certainly this circumstance proved +available in circumventing the wily chat, and that happened which had +happened before: in fleeing from one who made herself obvious to him, he +presented himself, an unsuspecting victim, to another who sat like a +statue against the wall. To avoid his pursuer, the bird slipped through +the thick foliage of the low oaks, and took his place on the outside, in +full view of me, but looking through the branches at the movements +within so intently that he never turned his eyes toward me. This gave me +an opportunity to study his manners that is rare indeed, for a chat off +his guard is something inconceivable.</p> + +<p>He shouted out his whole <i>répertoire</i> (or so it seemed) with great +vehemence, now "peeping" like a bird in the nest, then "chacking" like a +blackbird, mewing as neatly as pussy herself, and varying these calls by +the rattling of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>castanets and other indescribable sounds. His perch was +half way down the bush; his trim olive-drab back and shining golden +breast were in their spring glory, and he stood nearly upright as he +sang, every moment stretching up to look for the invader behind the +leaves. The instant she appeared outside, he vanished within, and I +folded my chair and passed on. His disturber had not caught a glimpse of +him.</p> + +<p>My next interview with a chat took place a day or two later. Between the +cottage which was our temporary home and the next one was a narrow +garden bordered by thick hedges, raspberry bushes down each side, and a +mass of flowering shrubs next the street. From my seat within the house, +a little back from the open window, I was startled by the voice of a +chat close at hand. Looking cautiously out, I saw him in the garden, +foraging about under cover of the bushes, near the ground, and there for +some time I watched him. He had not the slightest repose of manner; the +most ill-bred tramp in the English sparrow family was in that respect +his superior, and the most nervous and excitable of wrens could not +outdo him in posturing, jerking himself up, flirting his tail, and +hopping from twig to twig. When musically inclined, he perched on the +inner side of the bushes against the front fence, a foot or two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>above +the ground, and within three feet of any one who might pass, but +perfectly hidden.</p> + +<p>The performance of the chat was exceedingly droll; first a whistle, +clear as an oriole note, followed by chacks that would deceive a +red-wing himself, and then, oddest of all, the laugh of a feeble old +man, a weak sort of "yah! yah! yah!" If I had not seen him in the act, I +could not have believed the sound came from a bird's throat. He +concluded with a low, almost whispered "chur-r-r," a sort of private +chuckle over his unique exhibition. After a few minutes' singing he +returned to his foraging on the ground, or over the lowest twigs of the +bushes, all the time bubbling over with low joyous notes, his graceful +head thrown up, and his beautiful golden throat swelling with the happy +song. The listener and looker behind the screen was charmed to absolute +quiet, and the bird so utterly unsuspicious of observers that he was +perfectly natural and at his ease, hopping quickly from place to place, +and apparently snatching his repast between notes.</p> + +<p>The chat's secret of invisibility was thus plainly revealed. It is not +in his protective coloring, for though his back is modest of hue, his +breast is conspicuously showy; nor is it in his size, for he is almost +as large as an oriole; it is in his manners. The bird I was watching +never <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>approached the top of a shrub, but invariably perched a foot or +more below it, and his movements, though quick, were silence itself. No +rustle of leaves proclaimed his presence; indeed, he seemed to avoid +leaves, using the outside twigs near the main stalk or trunk, where they +are usually quite bare, and no flit of wing or tail gave warning of his +change of position. There was a seemingly natural wariness and +cautiousness in every movement and attitude, that I never saw equaled in +feathers.</p> + +<p>Then, too, the clever fellow was so constantly on his guard and so alert +that the least stir attracted his attention. Though inside the house, as +I said, not near the window, and further veiled by screens, I had to +remain as nearly motionless as possible, and use my glass with utmost +caution. The smallest movement sent him into the bushes like a shot,—or +rather, like a shadow, for the passage was always noiseless. Suspicion +once aroused, the bird simply disappeared. One could not say of him, as +of others, that he flew, for whether he used his wings, or melted away, +or sank into the earth, it would be hard to tell. All I can be positive +about is, that whereas one moment he was there, the next he was gone.</p> + +<p>After this exhibition of the character of the chat, his constant +watchfulness, his distrust, his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>love of mystery, it may appear strange +that I should try again to study him at home, to find his nest and see +his family. But there is something so bewitching in his individuality, +that, though I may be always baffled, I shall never be discouraged. +Somewhat later, when it was evident that his spouse had arrived and +domestic life had begun, and I became accustomed to hearing a chat in a +certain place every day as I passed, I resolved to make one more effort +to win his confidence, or, if not that, at least his tolerance.</p> + +<p>The chat medley for which I was always listening came invariably from +one spot on my pathway up the mountain. It was the lower end of a large +horse pasture, and near the entrance stood a small brick house, in which +no doubt dwelt the owner, or care-taker, of the animals. The wide gate, +in a common fashion of that country, opened in the middle, and was +fastened by a link of iron which dropped over the two centre posts. The +rattle of the iron as I touched it, on the morning I resolved to go in, +brought to the door a woman. She was rather young, with hair cut close +to her head, and wore a dark cotton gown, which was short and scant of +skirt, and covered with a "checked apron." She was evidently at work, +and was probably the mistress, since few in that "working-bee" village +kept maids.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>I made my request to go into the pasture to look at the birds.</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly," she said, with a courtesy that I have found everywhere +in Utah, though with a slow surprise growing in her face. "Come right +in."</p> + +<p>I closed and fastened the gate, and started on past her. Three feet +beyond the doorsteps I was brought to a standstill: the ground as far as +I could see was water-soaked; it was like a saturated sponge. Utah is +dominated by Irrigation; she is a slave to her water supply. One going +there from the land of rains has much to learn of the possibilities and +the inconveniences of water. I was always stumbling upon it in new +combinations and unaccustomed places, and I never could get used to its +vagaries. Books written in the interest of the Territory indulge in +rhapsodies over the fact that every man is his own rain-maker; and I +admit that the arrangement has its advantages—to the cultivator. But +judging from the standpoint of an outsider, I should say that man is not +an improvement upon the original providence which distributes the staff +of life to plants elsewhere, spreading the vital fluid over the whole +land, so evenly that every grass blade gets its due share; and as all +parts are wet at once, so all are dry at the same time, and the surplus, +if there be any, runs in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>well-appointed ways, with delight to both eye +and ear. All this is changed when the office of Jupiter Pluvius devolves +upon man; different indeed are his methods. A man turns a stream loose +in a field or pasture, and it wanders whither it will over the ground. +The grass hides it, and the walker, bird-student or botanist, steps +splash into it without the slightest warning. This is always unpleasant, +and is sometimes disastrous, as when one attempts to cross the edge of a +field of some close-growing crop, and instantly sinks to the top of the +shoes in the soft mud.</p> + +<p>On the morning spoken of, I stopped before the barrier, considering how +I should pass it, when the woman showed me a narrow passage between the +house and the stone wall, through which I could reach the higher ground +at the back. I took this path, and in a moment was in the grove of young +oaks which made her out-of-doors kitchen and yard. A fire was burning +merrily in the stove, which stood under a tree; frying-pans and +baking-tins, dippers and dishcloths, hung on the outer wall of her +little house, and the whole had a camping-out air that was captivating, +and possible only in a rainless land. I longed to linger and study this +open-air housekeeping; if that woman had only been a bird!</p> + +<p>But I passed on through the oak-grove back yard, following a path the +horses had made, till <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>I reached an open place where I could overlook +the lower land, filled with clumps of willows with their feet in the +water, and rosebushes</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"O'erburdened with their weight of flowers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And drooping 'neath their own sweet scent."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>A bird was singing as I took my seat, a grosbeak,—perhaps the one who +had entertained me in the field below, while I had waited hour after +hour, for his calm-eyed mate to point out her nest. He sang there from +the top of a tall tree, and she busied herself in the low bushes, but up +to that time they had kept their secret well. He was a beautiful bird, +in black and orange-brown and gold,—the black-headed grosbeak; and his +song, besides being very pleasing, was interesting because it seemed +hard to get out. It was as if he had conceived a brilliant and beautiful +strain, and found himself unable to execute it. But if he felt the +incompleteness of his performance as I did, he did not let it put an end +to his endeavor. I sat there listening, and he came nearer, even to a +low tree over my head; and as I had a glimpse or two of his mate in a +tangle of willow and roses far out in the wet land, I concluded he was +singing to her, and not to me. Now that he was so near, I heard more +than I had before, certain low, sweet notes, plainly not intended for +the public ear. This undertone song ended always in "sweet! sweet! +sweet!" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>usually followed by a trill, and was far more effective than +his state performances. Sometimes, after the "sweet" repeated half a +dozen times, each note lower than the preceding one, he ended with a +sort of purr of contentment.</p> + +<p>I became so absorbed in listening that I had almost forgotten the object +of my search, but I was suddenly recalled by a loud voice at one side, +and the lively genius of the place was on hand in his usual rôle. +Indeed, he rather surpassed himself in mocking and taunting cries that +morning, either because he wished, as my host, to entertain me, or, what +was more probable, to reproach me for disturbing the serenity of his +life. Whatever might have been his motive, he delighted me, as always, +by the spirit and vigor with which he poured out his chacks and whistles +and rattles and calls. Then I tried to locate him by following up the +sound, picking my way through the bushes, and among the straggling arms +of the irrigating stream. After some experiments, I discovered that he +was most concerned when I came near an impenetrable tangle that skirted +the lower end of the lot. I say "near:" it was near "as the crow flies," +but for one without wings it may have been half a mile; for between me +and that spot was a great gulf fixed, the rallying point of the most +erratic of wandering streamlets, and so given over to its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>vagaries that +no bird-gazer, however enthusiastic, and indifferent to wet feet and +draggled garments, dared attempt to pass. There I was forced to pause, +while the bird flung out his notes as if in defiance, wilder, louder, +and more vehement than ever.</p> + +<p>In that thicket, I said to myself, as I took my way home, behind that +tangle, if I can manage to reach it, I shall find the home of the chat. +The situation was discouraging, but I was not to be discouraged; to +reach that stronghold I was resolved, if I had to dam up the irrigator, +build a bridge, or fill up the quagmire.</p> + +<p>No such heroic treatment of the difficulty was demanded; my problem was +very simply solved. As I entered the gate the next morning, my eyes fell +upon an obscure footpath leading away from the house and the watery way +beyond it, down through overhanging wild roses, and under the great +tangle in which the chat had hidden. It looked mysterious, not to say +forbidding, and, from the low drooping of the foliage above, it was +plainly a horse path, not a human way. But it was undoubtedly the key to +the secrets of the tangle, and I turned into it without hesitation. +Stooping under the branches hanging low with their fragrant burden, and +stopping every moment to loosen the hold of some hindering thorn, I +followed in the footsteps of my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>four-footed pioneers till I reached the +lower end of the marsh that had kept me from entering on the upper side. +On its edge I placed my chair and seated myself.</p> + +<p>It was an ideal retreat; within call if help were needed, yet a solitude +it was plain no human being, in that land where (according to the +Prophet) every man, woman, and child is a working bee, ever invaded;</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"A leafy nook</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">Where wind never entered, nor branch ever shook,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">known only to my equine friends and to me. I exulted in it! No +discoverer of a new land, no stumbler upon a gold mine, was ever more +exhilarated over his find than I over my solitary wild rose path.</p> + +<p>The tangle was composed of a varied growth. There seemed to have been +originally a straggling row of low trees, chokecherry, peach, and +willow, which had been surrounded, overwhelmed, and almost buried by a +rich growth of shoots from their own roots, bound and cemented together +by the luxuriant wild rose of the West, which grows profusely everywhere +it can get a foothold, stealing up around and between the branches, till +it overtops and fairly smothers in blossoms a fair-sized oak or other +tree. Besides these were great ferns, or brakes, three or four feet +high, which filled up the edges <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>of the thicket, making it absolutely +impervious to the eye, as well as to the foot of any straggler. Except +in the obscure passages the horses kept open, no person could penetrate +my jungle.</p> + +<p>I had hardly placed myself, and I had not noted half of these details, +when it became evident that my presence disturbed somebody. A chat cried +out excitedly, "chack! chack! whe-e-w!" whereupon there followed an +angry squawk, so loud and so near that it startled me. I turned quickly, +and saw madam herself, all ruffled as if from the nest. She was plainly +as much startled as I was, but she scorned to flee. She perked up her +tail till she looked like an exaggerated wren; she humped her shoulders; +she turned this way and that, showing in every movement her anger at my +intrusion; above all, she repeated at short intervals that squawk, like +an enraged hen. Hearing a rustle of wings on the other side, I turned my +eyes an instant, and when I looked again she had gone! She would not run +while I looked at her, but she had the true chat instinct of keeping out +of sight.</p> + +<p>She did not desert her grove, however. The canopy over my head, the roof +to my retreat, was of green leaves, translucent, almost transparent. The +sun was the sun of Utah; it cast strong shadows, and not a bird could +move without my seeing it. I could see that she remained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>on guard, +hopping and flying silently from one point of view to another, no doubt +keeping close watch of me all the time.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the chat himself had not for a moment ceased calling. For some +time his voice would sound quite near; then it would draw off, growing +more and more distant, as if he were tired of watching one who did +absolutely nothing. But he never got far away before madam recalled him, +sometimes by the squawk alone, sometimes preceding it by a single clear +whistle, exactly in his own tone. At once, as if this were a +signal,—which doubtless it was,—his cries redoubled in energy, and +seemed to come nearer again.</p> + +<p>Above the restless demonstrations of the chats I could hear the clear, +sweet song of the Western meadow-lark in the next field. Well indeed +might his song be serene; the minstrel of the meadow knew perfectly well +that his nest and nestlings were as safely hidden in the middle of the +growing lucern as if in another planet; while the chat, on the contrary, +was plainly conscious of the ease with which his homestead might be +discovered. A ruthless destroyer, a nest-robbing boy, would have had the +whole thing in his pocket days ago. Even I, if I had not preferred to +have the owners show it to me: if I had not made excuses to myself, of +the marsh, of bushes too low to go under; if I had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>not hated to take it +by force, to frighten the little folk I wished to make friends +with,—even I might have seen the nest long before that morning. Thus I +meditated as, after waiting an hour or two, I started for home.</p> + +<p>Outside the gate I met my fellow-student, and we went on together. Our +way lay beside an old orchard that we had often noticed in our walks. +The trees were not far apart, and so overgrown that they formed a deep +shade, like a heavy forest, which was most attractive when everything +outside was baking in the June sun. It was nearly noon when we reached +the gate, and looking into a place</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"So curtained with trunks and boughs</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">That in hours when the ringdove coos to his spouse</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">The sun to its heart scarce a way could win,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">we could not resist its inviting coolness; we went in.</p> + +<p>As soon as we were quiet, we noticed that there were more robins than we +had heretofore seen in one neighborhood in that part of the world; for +our familiar bird is by no means plentiful in the Rocky Mountain +countries, where grassy lawns are rare, and his chosen food is not +forthcoming. The old apple-trees seemed to be a favorite nesting-place, +and before we had been there five minutes we saw that there were at +least two nests within fifty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>feet of us, and a grosbeak singing his +love song, so near that we had hopes of finding his home, also, in this +secluded nook.</p> + +<p>The alighting of a bird low down on the trunk of a tree, perhaps twenty +feet away, called the attention of my friend to a neighbor we had not +counted upon, a large snake, with, as we noted with horror, the color +and markings of the dreaded rattler. He had, as it seemed, started to +climb one of the leaning trunks, and when he had reached a point where +the trunk divided into two parts, his head about two feet up, and the +lower part of his body still on the ground, had stopped, and now rested +thus, motionless as the tree itself. It may be that it was the sudden +presence of his hereditary enemy that held him apparently spellbound, or +it is possible that this position served his own purposes better than +any other. Our first impulse was to leave his lordship in undisputed +possession of his shady retreat; but the second thought, which held us, +was to see what sort of reception the robins would give him. There was a +nest full of young on a neighboring tree, and it was the mother who had +come down to interview the foe. Would she call her mate? Would the +neighbors come to the rescue? Should we see a fight, such as we had read +of? We decided to wait for the result.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>Strange to say, however, this little mother did not call for help. Not +one of the loud, disturbed cries with which robins greet an innocent +bird-student or a passing sparrow hawk was heard from her; though her +kinsfolk sprinkled the orchard, she uttered not a sound. For a moment +she seemed dazed; she stood motionless, staring at the invader as if +uncertain whether he were alive. Then she appeared to be interested; she +came a little nearer, still gazing into the face of her enemy, whose +erect head and glittering eyes were turned toward her. We could not see +that he made the slightest movement, while she hopped nearer and nearer; +sometimes on one division of the trunk, and sometimes on the other, but +always, with every hop, coming a little nearer. She did not act +frightened nor at all anxious; she simply seemed interested, and +inclined to close investigation. Was she fascinated? Were the old +stories of snake power over birds true? Our interest was most intense; +we did not take our eyes from her; nothing could have dragged us away +then.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the bird flew to the ground, and, so quickly that we did not +see the movement, the head of the snake was turned over toward her, +proving that it was the bird, and not us, he was watching. Still she +kept drawing nearer till she was not more than a foot from him, when our +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>sympathy with the unfortunate creature, who apparently was unable to +tear herself away, overcame our scientific curiosity. "Poor thing, +she'll be killed! Let us drive her away!" we cried. We picked up small +stones which we threw toward her; we threatened her with sticks; we +"shooed" at her with demonstrations that would have quickly driven away +a robin in possession of its senses. Not a step farther off did she +move; she hopped one side to avoid our missiles, but instantly fluttered +back to her doom. Meanwhile her mate appeared upon the scene, hovering +anxiously about in the trees overhead, but not coming near the snake.</p> + +<p>By this time we had lost all interest in the question whether a snake +can charm a bird to its destruction; we thought only of saving the +little life in such danger. We looked around for help; my friend ran +across the street to a house, hurriedly secured the help of a man with a +heavy stick, and in two minutes the snake lay dead on the ground.</p> + +<p>The bird, at once relieved, flew hastily to her nest, showing no signs +of mental aberration, or any other effect of the strain she had been +under. The snake was what the man called a "bull snake," and so closely +resembled the rattler in color and markings that, although its +exterminator had killed many of the more famous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>reptiles, he could not +tell, until it was stretched out in death, which of the two it was. This +tragedy spoiled the old orchard for me, and never again did I enter its +gates.</p> + +<p>Down the wild rose path I took my way the next morning. Silently and +quickly I gained my seat of yesterday, hoping to surprise the chat +family. No doubt my hope was vain; noiseless, indeed, and deft of +movement must be the human being who could come upon this alert bird +unawares. He greeted me with a new note, a single clear call, like "ho!" +Then he proceeded to study me, coming cautiously nearer and nearer, as I +could see out of the corner of my eye, while pretending to be closely +occupied with my notebook. His loud notes had ceased, but it is not in +chat nature to be utterly silent; many low sounds dropped from his beak +as he approached. Sometimes it was a squawk, a gentle imitation of that +which rang through the air from the mouth of his spouse; again it was a +hoarse sort of mewing, followed by various indescribable sounds in the +same undertone; and then he would suddenly take himself in hand, and be +perfectly silent for half a minute.</p> + +<p>After a little, madam took up the matter, uttering her angry squawk, and +breaking upon my silence almost like a pistol shot. At once I forgot her +mate, and though he retired to a little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>distance and resumed his +brilliant musical performance, I did not turn my head at his +beguilements. She was the business partner of the firm whose movements I +wished to follow. She must, sooner or later, go to her nest, while he +might deceive me for days. Indeed, I strongly suspected him of that very +thing, and whenever he became bolder in approaching, or louder and more +vociferous of tongue, I was convinced that it was to cover her +operations. I redoubled my vigilance in watching for her, keeping my +eyes open for any slight stirring of a twig, tremble of a leaf, or quick +shadow near the ground that should point her out as she skulked to her +nest. I had already observed that whenever she uttered her squawks he +instantly burst into energetic shouts and calls. I believed it a +concerted action, with the intent of drawing my attention from her +movements.</p> + +<p>On this day the disturbed little mother herself interviewed me. First +she came silently under the green canopy, in plain sight, stood a moment +before me, jerking up her beautiful long tail and letting it drop slowly +back, and posing her mobile body in different positions; then suddenly +flying close past me, she alighted on one side, and stared at me for +half a dozen seconds. Then, evidently, she resolved to take me in hand. +She assumed the rôle of deceiver, with all the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>wariness of her family; +her object being, as I suppose, carefully to point out where her nest +was <i>not</i>. She circled about me, taking no pains to avoid my gaze. Now +she squawked on the right; then she acted "the anxious mother" on the +left; this time it was from the clump of rosebushes in front that she +rose hurriedly, as if that was her home; again it was from over my head, +in the chokecherry-tree, that she bustled off, as if she had been +"caught in the act." It was a brilliant, a wonderful performance, a +thousand times more effective than trailing or any of the similar +devices by which an uneasy bird mother draws attention from her brood. +It was so well done that at each separate manœuvre I could hardly be +convinced by my own eyes that the particular spot indicated did not +conceal the little homestead I was seeking. Several times I rose +triumphant, feeling sure that "now indeed I <i>do</i> know where it is," and +proceeded at once to the bush she had pointed out with so much simulated +reluctance, parted the branches, and looked in, only to find myself +deceived again. Her acting was marvelous. With just the properly +anxious, uneasy manner, she would steal behind a clump of leaves into +some retired spot admirably adapted for a chat's nest, and after a +moment sneak out at the other side, and fly away near the ground, +exactly as all <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>bird-students have seen bird mothers do a thousand +times.</p> + +<p>After this performance a silence fell upon the tangle and the solitary +nook in which I sat,—and I meditated. It was the last day of my stay. +Should I set up a search for that nest which I was sure was within +reach? I could go over the whole in half an hour, examine every shrub +and low tree and inch of ground in it, and doubtless I should find it. +No; I do not care for a nest thus forced. The distress of parents, the +panic of nestlings, give me no pleasure. I know how a chat's nest looks. +I have seen one with its pinky-pearl eggs; why should I care to see +another? I know how young birds look; I have seen dozens of them this +very summer. Far better that I never lay eyes upon the nest than to do +it at such cost.</p> + +<p>As I reached this conclusion, into the midst of my silence came the +steady tramp of a horse. I knew the wild rose path was a favorite +retreat from the sun, and it was very hot. The path was narrow; if a +horse came in upon me, he could not turn round and retreat, nor was +there room for him to pass me. Realizing all this in an instant, I +snatched up my belongings, and hurried to get out before he should get +in.</p> + +<p>When I emerged, the chat set up his loudest and most triumphant shouts. +"Again we have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>fooled you," he seemed to say; "again we have thrown +your poor human acuteness off the scent! We shall manage to bring up our +babies in safety, in spite of you!"</p> + +<p>So indeed they might, even if I had seen them; but this, alas, I could +not make him understand. So he treated me—his best friend—exactly as +he treated the nest-robber and the bird-shooter.</p> + +<p>I shall never know whether that nest contained eggs or young birds; or +whether perchance there was no nest at all, and I had been deceived from +the first by the most artful and beguiling of birds. And through all +this I had never once squarely seen the chat I had been following.</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Even yet thou art to me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">No bird, but, an invisible thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">A voice, a mystery."</span><br /> +</p> +<br /> +<br /><a name="XX" id="XX"></a> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>XX.</h2> + +<h2>ON THE LAWN.</h2> +<br /> + +<p>The first thing that strikes an Eastern bird-student in the Rocky +Mountain region, as I have already said, is the absence of the birds he +is familiar with. Instead of the chipping sparrow everywhere, one sees +the lazuli-painted finch, or the Rocky Mountain bluebird; in place of +the American robin's song, most common of sounds in country +neighborhoods on the Atlantic side of the continent, is heard the silver +bell of the towhee bunting, sometimes called marsh robin, or the harsh +"chack" of Brewer's blackbird; the music that opens sleepy eyes at +daybreak is not a chorus of robins and song-sparrows, but the ringing +notes of the chewink, the clear-cut song of the Western meadow-lark, or +the labored utterance of the black-headed grosbeak; it is not by the +melancholy refrain of the whippoorwill or the heavenly hymns of thrushes +that the approach of night is heralded, but by the cheery trill of the +house wren or the dismal wail of the Western wood-pewee.</p> + +<p>Most of all does the bird-lover miss the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>thrushes from the feathered +orchestra. Some of them may dwell in that part of the world,—the books +affirm it, and I cannot deny it,—but this I know: one whose eye is +untiring, and whose ear is open night and day to bird-notes, may spend +May, June, July, yes, and even August, in the haunts of Rocky Mountain +birds, and not once see or hear either of our choice singing thrushes.</p> + +<p>However the student may miss the birds he knows at home, he must rejoice +in the absence of one,—the English sparrow. When one sees the charming +purple finch and summer yellow-bird, nesting and singing in the streets +of Denver, and the bewitching Arkansas goldfinch and the beautiful +Western bluebird perfectly at home in Colorado Springs, he is reminded +of what might be in the Eastern cities, if only the human race had not +interfered with Nature's distribution of her feathered families. In +Utah, indeed, we meet again the foreigner, for in that unfortunate +Territory the man, wise in his own conceit, was found to introduce him, +and Salt Lake, the city of their pride and glory, is as completely +infested by the feathered tramp as New York itself. Happy is Colorado +that great deserts form her borders, and that chains of mountains +separate her from her neighbors; for, since the sparrow is as fond of +the city as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Dr. Johnson, it may be hoped that neither he, nor his +children, nor his grandchildren, will ever cross the barriers.</p> + +<p>In Utah, as everywhere, the English sparrows are sharp-witted rogues, +and they have discovered and taken possession of the most comfortable +place for bird quarters to be found, for protection from the terrible +heat of summer, and the wind and snow of winter; it is between the roof +and the stone or adobe walls of the houses. Wherever the inequalities of +the stones or the shrinkage of the wood has left an opening, and made +penetration possible, there an English sparrow has established a +permanent abode.</p> + +<p>The first bird I noticed in the quiet Mormon village where I settled +myself to study was a little beauty in blue. I knew him instantly, for I +had met him before in Colorado. He was dining luxuriously on the +feathery seeds of a dandelion when I discovered him, and at no great +distance was his olive-clad mate, similarly engaged. They were +conversing cheerfully in low tones, and in a few minutes I suppose he +called her attention to the superior quality of his dandelion; for she +came to his side, and he at once flew to a neighboring bush and burst +into song. It was a pretty little ditty, or rather a musical rattle on +one note, resembling the song of the indigo bird, his near relative.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>The lazuli-painted finch should be called the blue-headed finch, for the +exquisite blueness of his whole head, including throat, breast, and +shoulders, as if he had been dipped so far into blue dye, is his +distinguishing feature. The bluebird wears heaven's color; so does the +jay, and likewise the indigo bird; but not one can boast the lovely and +indescribable shade, with its silvery reflections, that adorns the +lazuli. Across the breast, under the blue, is a broad band of chestnut, +like the breast color of our bluebird, and back of that is white, while +the wings and tail are dark. Altogether, he is charming to look upon. +Who would not prefer him about the yard to the squawking house sparrow, +or even the squabbling chippy?</p> + +<p>My catching the pair at dinner was not an accident; I soon found out +that they lived there, and had settled upon a row of tall raspberry +bushes that separated the garden from the lawn for their summer home. +Madam was already at work collecting her building materials, and very +soon the fragile walls of her pretty nest were formed in an upright +crotch of the raspberries, about a foot below the top.</p> + +<p>Naturally, I was greatly interested in the fairy house building, and +often inspected the work while the little dame was out of sight. One +day, however, as I was about to part the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>branches to look in, I heard +an anxious "phit," and glanced up to see the owner alight on the lowest +limb of a peach-tree near by. Of course I turned away at once, +pretending that I was just passing, and had no suspicion of her precious +secret in the raspberries, and hoping that she would not mind. But she +did mind, very seriously; she continued to stand on that branch with an +aggrieved air, as if life were no longer worth living, now that her home +was perhaps discovered. Without uttering a sound or moving a muscle, so +far as I could see, she remained for half an hour before she accepted my +taking a distant seat and turning my attention to dragonflies as an +apology, and ventured to visit her nest again. After that I made very +sure that she was engaged elsewhere before I paid my daily call.</p> + +<p>The dragonflies, by the way, were well worth looking at; indeed, they +divided my interest with the birds. So many and such variety I never +noticed elsewhere, and they acted exactly like fly-catching birds, +staying an hour at a time on one perch, from which every now and then +they sallied out, sweeping the air and returning to the perch they had +left. Sometimes I saw four or five of them at once, resting on different +dead twigs in the yard the other side of the lawn, and I have even seen +one knock <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>a fellow-dragonfly off a favorite perch and take it himself.</p> + +<p>They were very beautiful, too: some with wings of transparent white or +light amber barred off by wide patches of rich dark brown or black; +others, again, smaller, and all over blue as the lazuli's head; and a +third of brilliant silver, which sparkled as it flew, as if covered with +spangles. One alighted there with wings which seemed to be covered with +a close and intricate design in the most brilliant gold thread. I went +almost near enough to put my hand on him, and I never saw a more +gorgeous creature; beside his beautiful wings his back was of old gold, +coming down in scallops over the black and dark blue under part.</p> + +<p>In due time four lovely blue eggs filled the nest of the lazuli, and +about the middle of June madam began to sit, and I had to be more +careful than ever in timing my visits.</p> + +<p>Some birds approach their nest in a loitering, aimless sort of way, as +if they had no particular business, in that quarter, and, if they see +any cause for alarm, depart with an indifferent air that reveals nothing +of their secret. Not thus the ingenuous lazuli. She showed her anxiety +every moment; coming in the most businesslike way, and proclaiming her +errand to the most careless observer, till I thought every boy on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>the +street would know where her eggs were to be found. She had a very pretty +way of going to the nest; indeed, all her manners were winning. She +always alighted on the peach-tree branch, looked about on all sides, +especially at me in my seat on the piazza, flirted her tail, uttered an +anxious "phit," and then jumped off the limb and dived under the bushes +near the ground. It is to be presumed that she ascended to her nest +behind the leaves by hopping from twig to twig, though this I could +never manage to see.</p> + +<p>And what of her gay little spouse all this time? Did he spend his days +cheering her with music, as all the fathers of feathered families are +fabled to do? Indeed he did not, and until I watched very closely, and +saw him going about over the poplars in silence, I thought he had left +the neighborhood. Once in the day he had a good singing time, about five +o'clock in the morning, two hours before the sun rose over the +mountains. If one happened to be awake then, he would hear the most +rapturous song, delivered at the top of his voice, and continuing for a +long time. But as it grew lighter, and the human world began to stir, he +became quiet again, and, if he sang at all, he went so far from home +that I did not hear him.</p> + +<p>But the wise little blue-head had not deserted; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>he was merely cautious. +Every time that the little sitter went off for food she met him +somewhere, and he came back with her. Occasionally he took a peep at the +treasures himself, but he never entered by her roundabout way. He always +flew directly in from above.</p> + +<p>Ten days passed away in this quiet manner, my attention divided between +the birds, the dragonflies, and the clacking grasshopper, who went +jerking himself about with a noise like a subdued lawn-mower, giving one +the impression that his machinery was out of order.</p> + +<p>The tenth day of sitting we had a south wind. That does not seem very +terrible, but a south wind on the shore of the Great Salt Lake is +something to be dreaded.</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"A wind that is dizzy with whirling play,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">A dozen winds that have lost their way."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>It starts up suddenly, and comes with such force as to snap off the +leaves of trees, and even the tender twigs of shrubs. As it waxes +powerful it bends great trees, and tries the strength of roofs and +chimneys. From the first breath it rolls up tremendous clouds of dust, +that come and come, and never cease, long after it seems as if every +particle in that rainless land must have been driven by. It is in the +"Great Basin," and the south wind is the broom that sweeps it clean. Not +only dust does the south <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>wind bring, but heat, terrible and +suffocating, like that of a fiery furnace. Before it the human and the +vegetable worlds shrink and wither, and birds and beasts are little +seen.</p> + +<p>Such a day was the birthday in the little nest in the raspberries, and +on my usual morning call I found four featherless birdlings, with beaks +already yawning for food. Every morning, of course, I looked at the +babies, but it was not till the eighth day of their life that I found +their eyes open. Before this they opened their mouths when I jarred the +nest in parting the branches, thus showing they were not asleep, but did +not open their eyes, and I was forced to conclude that they were not yet +unclosed.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the daily visit was made under difficulties, and I was +unpleasantly surprised when I stepped upon the grass of the little lawn +that I was obliged to cross. The grass looked as usual; the evening +before we had been sitting upon it. But all night a stream had been +silently spreading itself upon it, and my hasty step was into water two +or three inches deep, which swished up in a small fountain and filled a +low shoe in an instant.</p> + +<p>This is one of the idiosyncrasies of irrigation, which it seemed I +should never get accustomed to, and several times I was obliged to turn +back for overshoes before I could pay my usual call. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>A lawn asoak is a +curious sight, and always reminds me of Lanier's verses,</p> + +<p class="noin"> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"A thousand rivulets run</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">'Twixt the roots of the soil; the blades of the marsh grass stir;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">... and the currents cease to run,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">And the sea and the marsh are one."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The morning the lazulis were ten days old, before I came out of the +house, that happened which so often puts an end to a study of bird +life,—the nest was torn out of place and destroyed, and the little +family had disappeared. The particulars will never be known. Whether a +nest-robbing boy or a hungry cat was the transgressor, and whether the +nestlings were carried off or eaten, or had happily escaped, who can +tell? I could only judge by the conduct of the birds themselves, and as +they did not appear disturbed, and continued to carry food, it is to be +presumed that part, if not all, of the brood was saved from the wreck of +their home.</p> + +<p>Happily, to console me in my sorrow for this catastrophe, the lazuli was +not the only bird to be seen on the lawn, though his was the only nest. +I had for some time been greatly interested in the daily visits of a +humming-bird, a little dame in green and white, who had taken possession +of a honeysuckle vine beside the door, claiming the whole as her own, +and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>driving away, with squeaky but fierce cries, any other of her race +who ventured to sip from the coral cups so profusely offered.</p> + +<p>The season for humming-birds opened with the locust blossoms next door, +which were for days a mass of blooms and buzzings, of birds and bees. +But when the fragrant flowers began to fall and the ground was white +with them, one bird settled herself on our honeysuckle, and there took +her daily meals for a month. Being not six feet from where I sat for +hours every day, I had the first good opportunity of my life to learn +the ways of one of these queer little creatures in feathers.</p> + +<p>After long searching and much overhauling of the books, I made her out +to be the female broad-tailed humming-bird, who is somewhat larger than +the familiar ruby-throat of the East. Her mate, if she had one, never +came to the vine; but whether she drove him away and discouraged him, or +whether he had an independent source of supply, I never knew. She was +the only one whose acquaintance I made, and in a month's watching I came +to know her pretty well.</p> + +<p>In one way she differed strikingly from any humming-bird I have seen: +she alighted, and rested frequently and for long periods. Droll enough +it looked to see such an atom, such a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>mere pinch of feathers, conduct +herself after the fashion of a big bird; to see her wipe that +needle-like beak, and dress those infinitesimal feathers, combing out +her head plumage with her minute black claws, running the same useful +appendages through her long, gauzy-looking wings, and carefully removing +the yellow pollen of the honeysuckle blooms which stuck to her face and +throat. Her favorite perch was a tiny dead twig on the lowest branch of +a poplar-tree, near the honeysuckle. There she spent a long time each +day, sitting usually, though sometimes she stood on her little wiry +legs.</p> + +<p>But though my humming friend might sit down, there was no repose about +her; she was continually in motion. Her head turned from side to side, +as regularly, and apparently as mechanically, as an elephant weaves his +great head and trunk. Sometimes she turned her attention to me, and +leaned far over, with her large, dark eyes fixed upon me with interest +or curiosity. But never was there the least fear in her bearing; she +evidently considered herself mistress of the place, and reproved me if I +made the slightest movement, or spoke too much to a neighbor. If she +happened to be engaged among her honey-pots when a movement was made, +she instantly jerked herself back a foot or more from the vine, and +stood upon nothing, as it were, motionless, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>except the wings, while she +looked into the cause of the disturbance, and often expressed her +disapproval of our behavior in squeaky cries.</p> + +<p>The toilet of this lilliputian in feathers, performed on her chosen twig +as it often was, interested me greatly. As carefully as though she were +a foot or two, instead of an inch or two long, did she clean and put in +order every plume on her little body, and the work of polishing her beak +was the great performance of the day. This member was plainly her pride +and her joy; every part of it, down to the very tip, was scraped and +rubbed by her claws, with the leg thrown over the wing, exactly as big +birds do. It was astonishing to see what she could do with her leg. I +have even seen her pause in mid-air and thrust one over her vibrating +wing to scratch her head.</p> + +<p>Then when the pretty creature was all in beautiful order, her +emerald-green back and white breast immaculate, when she had shaken +herself out, and darted out and drawn back many times her long +bristle-like tongue, she would sometimes hover along before the tips of +the fence-stakes, which were like laths, held an inch apart by +wires,—collecting, I suppose, the tiny spiders which were to be found +there. She always returned to the honeysuckle, however, to finish her +repast, opening and closing her tail <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>as one flirts a fan, while the +breeze made by her wings agitated the leaves for two feet around her. +Should a blossom just ready to fall come off on her beak like a coral +case, as it sometimes did, she was indignant indeed; she jerked herself +back and flung it off with an air that was comical to see.</p> + +<p>When the hot wind blew, the little creature seemed to feel the +discomfort that bigger ones did: she sat with open beak as though +panting for breath; she flew around with legs hanging, and even alighted +on a convenient leaf or cluster of flowers, while she rifled a blossom, +standing with sturdy little legs far apart, while stretching up to reach +the bloom she desired.</p> + +<p>Two statements of the books were not true in the case of this bird: she +did not sit on a twig upright like an owl or a hawk, but held her body +exactly as does a robin or sparrow; and she did fly backward and +sideways, as well as forward.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of June my tiny visitor began to make longer intervals +between her calls, and when she did appear she was always in too great +haste to stop; she passed rapidly over half a dozen blossoms, and then +flitted away. Past were the days of loitering about on poplar twigs or +preening herself on the peach-tree. It was plain that she had set up a +home for herself, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>and the mussy state of her once nicely kept breast +feathers told the tale,—she had a nest somewhere. Vainly, however, did +I try to track her home: she either took her way like an arrow across +the garden to a row of very tall locusts, where a hundred humming-birds' +nests might have been hidden, or turned the other way over a neighbor's +field to a cluster of thickly grown apple-trees, equally impossible to +search. If she had always gone one way I might have tried to follow, but +to look for her infinitesimal nest at opposite poles of the earth was +too discouraging, even if the weather had been cool enough for such +exertion.</p> + +<p>When at last I could endure the wind and the dust and the heat no +longer, and stood one morning on the porch, waiting for the most +deliberate of drivers with his carriage to drive me to the station, that +I might leave Utah altogether, the humming-bird appeared on the scene, +took a sip or two out of her red cups, flirted her feathers saucily in +my very face, then darted over the top of the cottage and disappeared; +and that was the very last glimpse I had of the little dame in green.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<hr /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +<br /> +<h2>INDEX.</h2> + + + +<ul><li> Acadian flycatcher, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> + +<li> Arkansas goldfinch, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> + +<li> At four o'clock in the morning, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> + + +<li> Barbed wire fence, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> + +<li> Behind the tangle, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> + +<li> Birds: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> and poets, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> + <li> a strange song, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> + <li> different ways, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>.</li> + <li> hard to study, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>.</li> + <li> in Colorado, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> + <li> in Colorado Springs, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> + <li> in Denver, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> + <li> in the "Wrens' Court," <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> + <li> leave nesting place, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> + <li> morning chorus, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.</li> + <li> music in Colorado, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> + <li> not on exhibition, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>.</li> + <li> not sing alike, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + <li> panic among, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.</li> + <li> unfamiliar, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> + <li> Utah, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Black-headed grosbeak, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> song of, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Blue jay, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> and doll, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> + <li> and red-headed woodpecker, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> + <li> apple-tree nest, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> + <li> a struggle, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> + <li> attentive to mate, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> + <li> bad name, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li> + <li> devoted mother, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>.</li> + <li> eating, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li> + <li> getting over the ground, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> + <li> home deserted, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> + <li> interview with, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li> + <li> joke or war-cry? <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li> + <li> my search for nest, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> + <li> no pretense, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>.</li> + <li> pine-tree nest, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> + <li> vocabulary, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>.</li> + <li> when babies are noisy, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>.</li> + <li> with a stranger, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></li> + <li> with catbirds, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Blue jay, the young: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> accident to, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> + <li> beauty of, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> + <li> climber, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> + <li> first outing, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li> + <li> imperfect, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> + <li> intelligence in house, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> + <li> on edge of nest, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> + <li> returned to parents, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Bobolink song, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + +<li> Burro an investigator, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Camp Harding, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> + +<li> Camping in Colorado, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> + +<li> Cañon wren, the, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Cardinal grosbeak, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> abandoning the nest, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + <li> as a father, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>.</li> + <li> confidence in people, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> + <li> delight of parents, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> + <li> eating corn, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> + <li> importance of the builder, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> + <li> kindness to young, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> + <li> on grass, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> + <li> politeness to mate, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + <li> reception of woodpecker, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> + <li> rose trellis nest, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> + <li> speeding the parting guest, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>.</li> + <li> victim of English sparrow, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Cardinal, the young, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> characteristics, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>.</li> + <li> first baby out, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>.</li> + <li> food of, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> + <li> song of, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + <li> training, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> + <li> with sparrows, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Carolina wren, the great: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> babies appear, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> + <li> ceremony of approaching, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> + <li> father disturbed, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> + <li> first sight of, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></li> + <li> fighting a chipmunk, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> + <li> hard to see, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>.</li> + <li> interruption to study, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> + <li> mother anxious, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> + <li> trailing, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> + <li> "Wrens' Court," <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Carolina wren, the young: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> cries of, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> + <li> delay in taking flight, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li> + <li> development of, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> + <li> first sallies, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Catbird song, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> + +<li> Cat on lawn, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>.</li> + +<li> Cedar-tree little folk, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> + +<li> Charming nook, a, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> + +<li> Chat, long-tailed, yellow-breasted, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> alertness of, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> + <li> bewitching, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li> + <li> comes in sight, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>.</li> + <li> eccentric, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>.</li> + <li> egg stolen, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> + <li> farewell, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li> + <li> first sight of, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> + <li> hard to study, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>.</li> + <li> haunts of, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>.</li> + <li> home of, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>.</li> + <li> humor, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> + <li> on hand, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>.</li> + <li> saucy, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li> + <li> secret of invisibility, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> + <li> studies me, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>,</li> + <li> triumphant, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li> + <li> voice, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Chat, the madam: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> interviews me, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>.</li> + <li> keeps her mate up to duty, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>.</li> + <li> squawks, <a href="#Page_254">254</a>.</li> + <li> wonderful acting, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Chewink, or towhee bunting: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> babies, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> + <li> green-tailed towhee, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</li> + <li> husky cry, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Cheyenne Cañon, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> solitary possession of, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Cheyenne Mountain, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> + +<li> Chipmunk, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> + +<li> Cinderella among the flowers, a, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> + +<li> Cliff-dwellers in the cañon, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li> + +<li> Colorado, a restful way to see, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> the wonderland, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Cotton storm, a, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li> Cottonwoods, in the, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>.</li> + +<li> Cuckoo, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Doll as a bogy, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> + +<li> Dragonflies in Utah, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> English or house sparrow: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> as a climber, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> + <li> autocrat, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + <li> in Utah, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>.</li> + <li> robbing blackbirds, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> + <li> robbing red-headed woodpecker, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Feast of flowers, the, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> + +<li> Flicker a character, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> + +<li> Flowers: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> abundance of bloom, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li> + <li> anemone, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.</li> + <li> cactus, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> + <li> castilleia, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> cleome, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> columbine, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> cyclamen, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> extermination by cattle, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> + <li> extermination by tourists, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> + <li> geranium, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> + <li> gilia, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li> + <li> golden prince's feather, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> + <li> gummy and clinging stems, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + <li> harebells, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> in a niche, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> + <li> in Kansas, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> + <li> mariposa lily, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.</li> + <li> mentzelia, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> + <li> mertensia, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> Mexican poppy, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> + <li> milky juice, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + <li> moccasin plant, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> + <li> nasturtium, self-willed, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> + <li> ox-eye daisy, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + <li> painter of, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> + <li> paradise of, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> + <li> pentstemon, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> + <li> pink stranger, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> + <li> primrose, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> roses, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> + <li> spiderwort, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> + <li> symphony in green, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>.</li> + <li> varieties, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> + <li> vetches, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li> wild garden, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> + <li> wild mignonette, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> + <li> yellow daisies, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> + <li> yucca, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Gates, idiosyncrasies of, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>.</li> + +<li> Getting up in the morning, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>.</li> + +<li> Glen, a beautiful, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> frightened out of, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Grasshopper, a clacking, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li> Grave of "H. H.," <a href="#Page_90">90</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></li> + +<li> Great-crested flycatcher, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> + +<li> Gull, the herring, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> following the plow, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> + <li> flight, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.</li> + <li> nesting, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> + <li> nooning, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>.</li> + <li> penalty for killing, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> + <li> sent to the "Chosen People," <a href="#Page_212">212</a>.</li> + <li> value of, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Horned lark: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> horns, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Horse, a scared, and result, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> drive me away, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> House wren, the Western, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> babies, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> + <li> disturbed, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> + <li> strange cry, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Humming-bird: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> collecting spiders, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li> + <li> different from the Eastern, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + <li> dislike of heat, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li> + <li> in cañon, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> + <li> last glimpse, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_269">269</a>.</li> + <li> nesting, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>.</li> + <li> noisy, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + <li> precious beak, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li> + <li> scolding, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + <li> surveillance, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>.</li> + <li> the broad-tailed, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> + <li> toilet of, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Ideal retreat, an, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>.</li> + +<li> In a pasture, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> + +<li> In the Middle Country, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li> + +<li> In the Rocky Mountains, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li> + +<li> Irrigation vagaries, <a href="#Page_242">242</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Kansas, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> + +<li> Kitchen, an al fresco, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>.</li> + +<li> Kitten, a lost, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Lazuli-painted finch, <a href="#Page_261">261</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> anxiety of mother, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.</li> + <li> babies, <a href="#Page_267">267</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>.</li> + <li> nest destroyed, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Magpie: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> discover us, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></li> + <li> nursery, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>.</li> + <li> reception to us, <a href="#Page_227">227</a>.</li> + <li> search for nest, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Meadow-lark, the Western, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> cry, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Morning tramp, a, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> + +<li> Mosquito, absence of, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> a lonely, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Mourning dove, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> headquarters, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> + <li> joke of, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> + <li> silence of, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> + <li> talk, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> + <li> wing whistle, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> + <li> young, interview with, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> + <li> young, manners of, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Oak-brush, the, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>.</li> + +<li> On the lawn, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>.</li> + +<li> Orchard, an old, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> + +<li> Orchard oriole: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> a later view, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> + <li> anxiety of parents, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> + <li> baby cries, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> + <li> babies' first flight, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> + <li> call from a Baltimore, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>.</li> + <li> called by nestlings, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> + <li> song of female, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> + <li> song of male, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Park, a deserted, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + +<li> Pewee, Western wood, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> + <li> voice, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Purple grackle, the, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> discouraging them, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> + <li> eating, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> + <li> greeting to me, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> + <li> husky tones, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> + <li> humor, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> + <li> no repose of manner, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> + <li> plumage, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> + <li> robbed by sparrows, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</li> + <li> strange utterances, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>.</li> + <li> treatment of young, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> + <li> young, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> + <li> young, persistence of, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Red-headed woodpecker: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> autocrat, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> + <li> eating corn, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> + <li> protecting the place, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></li> + <li> treatment of cardinal grosbeak, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> + <li> treatment of doll, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Rest, to find, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> + +<li> Robin, absence of, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> and corn, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> + <li> and doll, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>.</li> + <li> not plentiful, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> + <li> reception of snake, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Rocky Mountains: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> a pasture on, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> + <li> Cheyenne range, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.</li> + <li> Wasatch range, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> + </ul> +<br /> +</li> + + +<li> Sage-bush, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>.</li> + +<li> Sage the delight of my friend, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>.</li> + +<li> Salt Lake, view of, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>.</li> + +<li> Secret of the Wild Rose Path, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>.</li> + +<li> Seven Sisters' Falls, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> + +<li> Sight-seeing travelers, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>.</li> + +<li> South wind, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>.</li> + +<li> Strange character of feathered world, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> + +<li> Strangers not allowed, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + +<li> Study of birds, my way, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>.</li> + +<li> Study of birds, two ways, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Tents to live in, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></li> + +<li> Thrushes absent, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>.</li> + +<li> Tourist, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>.</li> + +<li> Tourist, the unscrupulous, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> + +<li> Towhee (see Chewink).</li> + +<li> Tragedy of a nest, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Uproar of song, an, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Vagaries of name-givers, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> + +<li> View, a beautiful, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Walks from the camp, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>. + <ul class="nest"> + <li> the evening, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>.</li> + <li> the morning, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> + <li> up to the cañon, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Water ouzel, or American dipper: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> baby, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> + <li> cry, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> + <li> "dipping," <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> + <li> feats in the water, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> + <li> manners, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> + <li> the mother, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> + +<li> Wood-thrush nest, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.<br /><br /></li> + + +<li> Yellow warbler: + <ul class="nest"> + <li> nest, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> + <li> song, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>.</li> + </ul> +</li> +</ul> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Transcriber's Note</p> +<br /> + +Typographical errors corrected in the text:<br /> +<br /> +Page 72 standstone changed to sandstone<br /> +Page 153 Word "to" added before "one side"<br /> +Page 250 cooes changed to coos<br /> +Page 277 " added to "Wrens' Court,<br /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bird-Lover in the West, by +Olive Thorne Miller and Harriet Mann Miller + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST *** + +***** This file should be named 27902-h.htm or 27902-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/0/27902/ + +Produced by Stephen Hope, Barbara Kosker, Joseph Cooper +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |