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diff --git a/38233-h/38233-h.htm b/38233-h/38233-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f4f495 --- /dev/null +++ b/38233-h/38233-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7607 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + +<head> +<meta content="text/html;charset=ISO-8859-1" http-equiv="Content-Type"> +<title> +Birds Every Child Should Know; by Neltje Blanchan +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +h1 {font-size: 160%; text-align:center;} + +h2 {font-size: 120%; text-align:center;} + +i { font-weight: bold; } + +pre { font-family: Serif; } + +.cite { margin-left: 5%; } + +.cite2 { margin-left: 10%; } + +.footnote { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +.center { text-align: center; } + +.right { text-align: right; } + +.image { text-align: center; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Birds Every Child Should Know, by Neltje Blanchan + +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: Birds Every Child Should Know + +Author: Neltje Blanchan + +Release Date: December 6, 2011 [EBook #38233] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW *** + + + + +Produced by Don Kostuch + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="cite"> +[Transcriber's notes] +<br><br> + This is derived from a copy on the Internet Archive:<br> + http://www.archive.org/details/birdsthateverych00doub +<br><br> + Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly + braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred + in the original book. +<br><br> + Obvious spelling errors have been corrected but "inventive" and + inconsistent spelling is left unchanged. +<br><br> + Thanks to Kathy Danek for introducing me to this book. +<br><br> +[End Transcriber's notes] +</p> +{cover} +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/cover.jpg" border=1> +</p> + +<h1>BIRDS<br> +Every Child Should Know +<br><br> +by Neltje Blanchan</h1> + +{i} + +<h1>BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW</h1> +<br> + +<a name="ii">{ii}</a> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/front.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Red-Eyed Vireo. +</p> + +{iii} + +<h1>BIRDS THAT EVERY +CHILD SHOULD KNOW +<br><br> +BY +<br><br> +NELTJE BLANCHAN</h1> +<br> +<p> +Author of +</p> +<p class="indent"> + "Bird Neighbours,"<br> + "Birds that Hunt and Are Hunted,"<br> + "Nature's Garden," and<br> + "How to Attract the Birds." +</p> +<p> +SIXTY-THREE PAGES OF +PHOTOGRAPHS FROM LIFE +<br><br> + + +NEW YORK<br> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br> +PUBLISHERS +</p> +{iv} + +<p> +Copyright, 1907, by <br> +Doubleday, Page & Company +<br><br> + + +<i> All rights reserved, +including that of translation into foreign languages, including the +Scandinavian.</i> +</p> +{v} + +<h1>PREFACE</h1> +<p> +If all his lessons were as joyful as learning to know the birds in the +fields and woods, there would be no +</p> +<p class="cite"> + "...whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell + And shining morning face creeping like Snaile + Unwillingly to schoole." +</p> +<p> +Long before his nine o'clock headache appears, lessons have begun. +Nature herself is the teacher who rouses him from his bed with an +outburst of song under the window and sets his sleepy brain to +wondering whether it was a robin's clear, ringing call that startled +him from his dreams, or the chipping sparrow's wiry tremulo, or the +gushing little wren's tripping cadenza. Interest in the birds trains +the ear quite unconsciously. A keen, intelligent listener is rare, +even among grown-ups, but a child who is becoming acquainted with the +birds about him hears every sound and puzzles out its meaning with a +cleverness that amazes those with ears who hear not. He responds to +the first alarm note from the nesting blue birds in the orchard and +dashes out of the house to chase away a prowling cat. He knows from +{vi} afar the distress caws of a company of crows and away he goes to +be sure that their persecutor is a hawk. A faint tattoo in the woods +sends him climbing up a tall straight tree with the confident +expectation of finding a woodpecker's nest within the hole in its +side. +</p> +<p> +While training his ears, Nature is also training every muscle in his +body, sending him on long tramps across the fields in pursuit of a new +bird to be identified, making him run and jump fences and wade brooks +and climb trees with the zest that produces an appetite like a +saw-mill's and deep sleep at the close of a happy day. +</p> +<p> +When President Roosevelt was a boy he was far from strong, and his +anxious father and mother naturally encouraged every interest that he +showed in out-of-door pleasures. Among these, perhaps the keenest that +he had was in birds. He knew the haunts of every species within a wide +radius of his home and made a large collection of eggs and skins that +he presented to the Smithsonian Museum when he could no longer endure +the evidences of his "youthful indiscretion," as he termed the +collector's mania. But those bird hunts that had kept him happily +employed in the open air all day long, helped to make him the strong, +manly man he is, whose wonderful physical endurance is not the least +factor of his greatness. No one abhors the killing of birds and the +{vii} robbing of nests more than he; few men, not specialists, know so +much about bird life. +</p> +<p> +Nature, the best teacher of us all, trains the child's eyes through +study of the birds to quickness and precision, which are the first +requisites for all intelligent observation in every field of +knowledge. I know boys who can name a flock of ducks when they are +mere specks twinkling in their rapid rush across the autumn sky; and +girls who instantly recognise a goldfinch by its waving flight above +the garden. The white band across the end of the kingbird's tail leads +to his identification the minute some sharp young eyes perceive it. At +a considerable distance, a little girl I know distinguished a +white-eyed from a red-eyed vireo, not by the colour of the iris of +either bird's eye, but by the yellowish white bars on the white-eyed +vireo's wings which she had noticed at a glance. Another girl named +the yellow-billed cuckoo, almost hidden among the shrubbery, by the +white thumb-nail spots on the quills of his outspread tail where it +protruded for a second from a mass of leaves. A little urchin from the +New York City slums was the first to point out to his teacher, who had +lived twenty years on a farm, the faint reddish streaks on the breast +of a yellow warbler in Central Park. Many there are who have eyes and +see not. +</p> +<p> +What does the study of birds do for the {viii} imagination, that high +power possessed by humans alone, that lifts them upward step by step +into new realms of discovery and joy? If the thought of a tiny +hummingbird, a mere atom in the universe, migrating from New England +to Central America will not stimulate a child's imagination, then all +the tales of fairies and giants and beautiful princesses and wicked +witches will not cause his sluggish fancy to roam. Poetry and music, +too, would fail to stir it out of the deadly commonplace. +</p> +<p> +Interest in bird life exercises the sympathies. The child reflects +something of the joy of the oriole whose ecstasy of song from the elm +on the lawn tells the whereabouts of a dangling "cup of felt" with its +deeply hidden treasures. He takes to heart the tragedy of a robin's +mud-plastered nest in the apple tree that was washed apart by a storm, +and experiences something akin to remorse when he takes a mother bird +from the jaws of his pet cat. He listens for the return of the +bluebirds to the starch-box home he made for them on top of the grape +arbour and is strangely excited and happy that bleak day in March when +they re-appear. It is nature sympathy, the growth of the heart, not +nature study, the training of the brain, that does most for us. +</p> +<p class="cite"> + Neltje Blanchan.<br> + <i>Mill Neck</i>, 1906. +</p> + +{ix} + +<h1>CONTENTS</h1> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" width="100%"> +<tbody> +<tr><td><br></td><td>CHAPTER </td><td> PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td>I. </td><td>Our Robin Goodfellow and His Relations </td><td><a href="#3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Robin, Bluebird, Wood Thrush, Wilson's Thrush.</td></tr> +<tr><td>II. </td><td>Some Neighbourly Acrobats </td><td> <a href="#17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Chickadee, Nuthatches, Titmouse, Kinglets.</td></tr> +<tr><td>III.</td><td> A Group of Lively Singers </td><td> <a href="#31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Mockingbird, Catbird, Brown Thrasher, Wrens.</td></tr> +<tr><td>IV. </td><td>The Warblers </td><td> <a href="#51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Yellow Warbler, Black and White Creeping Warbler, +Ovenbird, Maryland Yellow-throat, Yellow-breasted Chat.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>V. </td><td>Another Strictly American Family </td><td> <a href="#67">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> The Vireos.</td></tr> +<tr><td>VI.</td><td> Birds Not of a Feather </td><td> <a href="#77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Butcherbirds, Cedar Waxwing, Tanagers.</td></tr> +<tr><td>VII. </td><td>The Swallows </td><td> <a href="#91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Purple Martin, Barn Swallow, Cliff Swallow, Tree Swallow, +Bank Swallow.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>VIII. </td><td>The Sparrow Tribe </td><td> <a href="#105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Purple Finch, English Sparrow, Goldfinch, Vesper Sparrow, +White-crowned Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, Tree Sparrow, +Chippy, Field Sparrow, Junco, Song Sparrow, Swamp Sparrow, +Fox Sparrow, Towhee, Cardinal, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, +Indigo Bunting, Snowflake.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{x}</td></tr> +<tr><td>IX. </td><td>The Ill-assorted Blackbird Family </td><td> <a href="#135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Bobolink, Cowbird, Red-wing, Meadowlark, Orioles, +Blackbirds.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>X. </td><td>Rascals We Must Admire </td><td> <a href="#151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Crow, Blue Jay and Canada Jay.</td></tr> +<tr><td>XI. </td><td>The Flycatchers </td><td> <a href="#159">159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Kingbird, Crested Flycatcher, Phoebe, Pewee, Least Flycatcher.</td></tr> +<tr><td>XII.</td><td> Some Queer Relations </td><td> <a href="#173">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Nighthawk, Whip-poor-will, Chimney Swift, Hummingbird.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>XIII. </td><td>Non-union Carpenters </td><td> <a href="#187">187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Our Five Common Woodpeckers.</td></tr> +<tr><td>XIV.</td><td> Cuckoo and Kingfisher </td><td> <a href="#203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>XV. </td><td>Day and Night Allies of the Farmer </td><td> <a href="#211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td>Buzzards, Hawks, and Owls.</td></tr> +<tr><td>XVI. </td><td>Whistler and Drummer </td><td> <a href="#233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Bob-white and Ruffed Grouse.</td></tr> +<tr><td>XVII. </td><td>Birds of the Shore and Marshes </td><td> <a href="#245">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td> +<td> Snipe, Sandpiper, Plover, Rails and Coots, Bitterns and +Herons.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>XVIII.</td><td> The Fastest Flyers </td><td> <a href="#265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> Gulls, Ducks, and Geese.</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td>Index </td><td> <a href="#275">275</a></td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +{xi} +<br><br> +[Transcriber's note: Scroll down for even pages and scroll up for odd pages.] +<br><br> +<h1>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h1> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="6" width="100%"> +<tbody> +<tr><td>Red-eyed Vireo. </td><td><a href="#ii">Frontispiece</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td><td> FACING PAGE</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>It is Only When he is a Baby that you Could Guess our +Robin is Really a Thrush. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td> +<td> <a href="#8">8</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Young Bluebirds Taking their First Walk. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>)</td><td> <a href="#9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Baby Wood Thrushes—Notice the Family Resemblance Between +them and the Baby Robins and Bluebirds. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td>A Wood Thrush Startled by the Click of the Camera. (<i>A. R. +Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Chickadee at her Front Door. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#22">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Nuthatches Learning their First Lesson in Balancing +on a Horizontal Bar. (<i>W. E. Carlin</i>) </td><td> <a href="#23">23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Noisy Contents of a Soap Box: a Family of House Wrens. +(<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Marsh Wren's Round Cradle Swung Among the Rushes. (<i>A. +R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{xii}</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Like "Brer Rabbit" the Catbird is Usually "Bred en Bawn in +a Brier Patch." (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#34">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Another Tragedy of the Nests: What Villain Ate the +Catbird's Eggs? (<i>Verne Morton</i>) </td><td> <a href="#35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"Mamma!" Young Mockingbird Calling for Breakfast. (<i>A. R. +Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>All is Well with this Yellow Warbler's Nest. (<i>G. C. +Embody</i>) </td><td> <a href="#51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Dinner for One: A Black-and-white Warbler Feeding her +Baby. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Oven-bird who Calls "Teacher, Teacher, TEACHER, +TEACHER, TEACHER!" (<i>William P. Hopkins</i>) </td><td> <a href="#58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Oven-bird in her Cleverly Hidden Nest—Some of the Leaves +and Sticks Have Been Pulled Away From the Front to Secure +her picture. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Oven-birds on Day of Leaving Nest. (<i>A.R. Dugmore</i>)</td><td> <a href="#59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Red-eyed Vireo Baby in his Cradle. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#76">76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Out of It. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#76">76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Home of the Loggerhead Shrike with Plenty of Convenient +Hooks for this Butcher Bird to Hang Meat On. (<i>R. H. Beehe</i>)</td> +<td> <a href="#77">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Cedar Waxwing. (<i>W. P. Hopkins</i>) </td><td> <a href="#84">84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{xiii}</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>The Gorgeous Scarlet Tanager, who Sang in this Tree, Was +Killed by a Sling Shot. The Nest Was Deserted by his +Terrified Mate. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#85">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Barn Swallows Cradled Under the Rafters. (<i>A. R. +Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#96">96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Baby Barn Swallows Learning to Walk a Plank. (<i>A. R. +Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Most Cheerful of Bird Neighbours: Song Sparrows. (<i>A. +R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#116">116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Baby Chippy and its Two Big Rose-breasted Grosbeak +Cousins. </td><td> <a href="#116">116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Chipping Sparrow Family: One Baby Satisfied, the Next +Nearly So, the Third Still Hungry. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#117">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Cardinal. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#134">134</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>That Dusky Rascal the Cowbird. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#135">135</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Gorgeous Baltimore Oriole. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#146">146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>How do you Suppose these Young Baltimore Orioles Ever +Packed themselves into this Nest? (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#147">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Orchard Orioles. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#150">150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"There Were Three Crows Sat on a Tree." (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>)</td><td> <a href="#151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Blue Jay on her Nest. (<i>R. H. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#158">158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{xiv}</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Five Little Teasers Get No Dinner from Mamma Blue Jay. +(<i>Craig S. Thomas</i>) </td><td> <a href="#159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Not Afraid of the Camera: Baby Blue Jays Out for their +First Airing. (<i>Craig S. Thomas</i>) </td> +<td> <a href="#159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Dashing Great Crested Flycatcher. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#162">162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Baby Kingbirds in an Apple Tree. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#163">163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Four Crested Flycatchers, who Need to Have their Hair +Brushed. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Time for these Young Phoebes to Leave the Nest. (<i>A. R. +Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Phoebes on a Bridge Trestle. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Least Flycatchers in a Rose Bush </td><td> <a href="#176">176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Nighthawk Resting in the Sunlight. (<i>John Boyd</i>) </td><td> <a href="#177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Chimney Swift at Rest. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>)</td><td><a href="#180">180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Hummingbird Pumping Food into her Babies' Crops. (<i>Julian +Burroughs</i>) </td><td> <a href="#181">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Twin Ruby-throats. (<i>Julian Burroughs</i>) </td><td> <a href="#181">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Our Little Friend Downy. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>)</td><td> <a href="#192">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Red-headed Woodpecker. (<i>C. W. Beehe</i>)</td><td> <a href="#193">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Sapsucker. (<i>G. C. Embody</i>)</td><td><a href="#198">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Baby Flickers Just Out of their Hole. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>)</td><td> <a href="#199">199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{xv}</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>The Flicker. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#206">206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Two Baby Cuckoos on the Rickety Bundle of Sticks that by +Courtesy we Call a Nest. (<i>Verne Morton</i>) </td><td> <a href="#207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Waiting for Mamma and Fish. (<i>A. W. Anthony</i>) </td><td> <a href="#210">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Young Belted Kingfisher on his Favourite Snag. (<i>A. W. +Anthony</i>) </td><td> <a href="#210">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Kingfisher on the Look-out for a Dinner. (<i>A. W. Anthony</i>)</td> +<td> <a href="#211">211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Turkey Buzzard: One of Nature's Best Housecleaners. (<i>C. +W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#226">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Beautiful Little Sparrow Hawk. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#227">227</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Father and Mother Barn Owls. (<i>Silas A. Lottridge</i>) </td><td> <a href="#232">232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Heavenly Twins: Young Barn Owls. (<i>Silas A. Lottridge</i>) </td> +<td> <a href="#233">233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Little Screech Owl in the Sunlight Where Only a +Photographer Could Find him. (<i>C. W. Beehe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#236">236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Mrs. White on her Nest while Bob Whistles to her from the +Wild Strawberry Patch. (<i>A. R. Dugmore</i>) </td><td> <a href="#237">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Little Girl's Rare Pet. (<i>C. F. Hodge</i>) </td><td> <a href="#242">242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Drummer Drumming. (<i>C. F. Hodge</i>) </td><td> <a href="#243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>A Flock of Friendly Sandpipers and Turnstones in Wading. +(<i>Herbert K. Job</i>) </td><td> <a href="#258">258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td>{xvi}</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>One Little Sandpiper. (<i>R. H. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Coot. (<i>C. W. Beebe</i>) </td><td> <a href="#259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Little Green Heron, the Smallest and Most Abundant +Member of his Tribe. (<i>W. P. Hopkins</i>) </td><td> <a href="#260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Half-grown Little Green Herons on Dress Parade. (<i>John M. +Schreck</i>) </td><td> <a href="#261">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Black-crowned Night Heron Rising from a Morass. (<i>Alfred J. +Might</i>) </td><td> <a href="#268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Canada Geese. (<i>Geo. D. Bartlett</i>) </td><td> <a href="#269">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Feather-lined Nest of a Wild Duck </td><td> <a href="#272">272</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Sea Gulls in the Wake of a Garbage Scow Cleansing New York +Harbour of Floating Refuse. </td><td> <a href="#273">273</a></td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + +<a name="3">{3}</a> + +<h1>CHAPTER I +<br><br> +OUR ROBIN GOODFELLOW AND HIS RELATIONS:</h1> +<p class="cite"> +American Robin<br> +Bluebird<br> +Wood Thrush<br> +Wilson's Thrush<br> +</p> +<a name="4">{4}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="5">{5}</a> +<br><br> +<h2>THE AMERICAN ROBIN +<br><br> +<i>Called also: Red-breasted Thrush; Migratory Thrush; Robin Redbreast</i></h2> + +<p> +It is only when he is a baby that you could guess our robin is really +a thrush, for then the dark speckles on his plump little +yellowish-white breast are prominent thrush-like markings, which +gradually fade, however, as he grows old enough to put on a brick-red +vest like his father's. +</p> +<p> +The European Cock Robin—a bird as familiar to you as our own, no +doubt, because it was he who was killed by the Sparrow with the bow +and arrow, you well remember, and it was he who covered the poor Babes +in the Wood with leaves—is much smaller than our robin, even smaller +than a sparrow, and he is not a thrush at all. But this hero of the +story books has a red breast, and the English colonists, who settled +this country, named our big, cheerful, lusty bird neighbour a robin, +simply because his red breast reminded them of the wee little bird at +home that they had loved when they were children. +</p> +<p> +When our American robin comes out of the <a name="6">{6}</a> turquoise blue egg that +his devoted mother has warmed into life, he usually finds three or +four baby brothers and sisters huddled within the grassy cradle. In +April, both parents worked hard to prepare this home for them. Having +brought coarse grasses, roots, and a few leaves or weed stalks for the +foundation, and pellets of mud in their bills for the inner walls +(which they cleverly managed to smooth into a bowl shape without a +mason's trowel), and fine grasses for the lining of the nest, they +saddled it on to the limb of an old apple tree. Robins prefer +low-branching orchard or shade trees near our homes to the tall, +straight shafts of the forest. Some have the courage to build among +the vines or under the shelter of our piazzas. I know a pair of robins +that reared a brood in a little clipped bay tree in a tub next to a +front door, where people passed in and out continually. Doubtless very +many birds would be glad of the shelter of our comfortable homes for +theirs if they could only trust us. Is it not a shame that they +cannot? Robins, especially, need a roof over their heads. When they +foolishly saddle their nest on to an exposed limb of a tree, the first +heavy rain is likely to soften the mud walls, and wash apart the +heavy, bulky structure, when +</p> +<p class="cite"> + "Down tumble babies and cradle and all." +</p> +<a name="7">{7}</a> +<p> +It is wiser of them to fit the nest into the supporting crotch of a +tree, as many do, and wisest to choose the top of a piazza pillar, +where boys and girls and cats cannot climb to molest them, nor storms +dissolve their mud-walled nursery. There are far too many tragedies of +the nests after every heavy spring rain. +</p> +<p> +Suppose your appetite were so large that you were compelled to eat +more than your weight of food every day, and suppose you had three or +four brothers and sisters, just your own size, and just as ravenously +hungry. These are the conditions in every normal robin family, so you +can easily imagine how hard the father and mother birds must work to +keep their fledglings' crops filled. No wonder robins like to live +near our homes where the enriched land contains many fat grubs, and +the smooth lawns, that they run across so lightly, make hunting for +earth worms comparatively easy. It is estimated that about fourteen +feet of worms (if placed end to end) are drawn out of the ground daily +by a pair of robins with a nestful of babies to feed. When one of the +parents alights near its home, every child must have seen the little +heads, with wide-stretched, yellow bills, pop up suddenly like +Jacks-in-the-box. How rudely the greedy babies push and jostle one +another to get the most dinner, and how noisily they clamour for it! +Earth worms are the staff of <a name="8">{8}</a> life to them just as bread is to +children, but robins destroy vast quantities of other worms and +insects more injurious to the farmers' crops, so that the strawberries +and cherries they take in June should not be grudged them. +</p> +<p> +A man of science, who devoted many hours of study to learn the great +variety of sounds made by common barnyard chickens in expressing their +entire range of feeling, from the egg shell to the axe, could +entertain an audience delightfully for an evening by imitating them. +Similar study applied to robins would reveal as surprisingly rich +results, but probably less funny. No bird that we have has so varied a +repertoire as Robin Goodfellow, and I do not believe that any boy or +girl alive could recognise him by every one of his calls and songs. +His softly warbled salute to the sunrise differs from his lovely +even-song just as widely as the rapturous melody of his courting days +differs from the more subdued, tranquil love song to his brooding +mate. Indignation, suspicion, fright, interrogation, peace of mind, +hate, caution to take flight—these and a host of other thoughts, are +expressed through his flexible voice. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i8.jpg" border=1> +<br> +"It is only when he is a baby that you could guess our robin is really +a thrush." +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i9.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young bluebirds taking their first walk. +</p> +<a name="9">{9}</a> +<p> +Toward the end of June, you may see robins flying in flocks after +sun-down. Old males and young birds of the first brood scatter +themselves over the country by day to pick up the best living they +can, but at night they collect in large numbers at some favourite +roosting place. Oftentimes the weary mother birds are now raising +second broods. We like to believe that the fathers return from the +roosts at sun-up to help supply those insatiable babies with worms +throughout the long day. +</p> +<p> +After family cares are over for the year, robins moult, and then they +hide, mope, and keep silent for awhile. But in September, in a suit of +new feathers, they are feeling vigorous and cheerful again; and, +gathering in friendly flocks, they roam about the woodland borders to +feed on the dogwood, choke cherries, juniper berries, and other small +fruits. You see they change their diet with the season. By dropping +the undigested berry seeds far and wide, they plant great numbers of +trees and shrubs as they travel. Birds help to make the earth +beautiful. With them every day is Arbour Day. +</p> +<p> +It is a very dreary time when the last robin leaves us, and an +exceptionally cold winter when a few stragglers from the south-bound +flocks do not remain in some sheltered, sunny, woodland hollow. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE BLUEBIRD</h2> + +<p> +Is there any sign of spring quite so welcome as the glint of the first +bluebird unless it is his <a name="10">{10}</a> softly whistled song? Before the farmer +begins to plough the wet earth, often while the snow is still on the +ground, this hardy little minstrel is making himself very much at home +in our orchards and gardens while waiting for a mate to arrive from +the South. +</p> +<p> +Now is the time to have ready on top of the grape arbour, or under the +eaves of the barn, or nailed up in the apple tree, or set up on poles, +the little one-roomed houses that bluebirds are only too happy to +occupy. More enjoyable neighbours it would be hard to find. Sparrows +will fight for the boxes, it is true, but if there are plenty to let, +and the sparrows are persistently driven off, the bluebirds, which are +a little larger though far less bold, quickly take possession. Birds +that come earliest in the season and feed on insects, before they have +time to multiply, are of far greater value in the field, orchard, and +garden than birds that delay their return until warm weather has +brought forth countless swarms of insects far beyond the control of +either bird or man. Many birds would be of even greater service than +they are if they received just a little encouragement to make their +homes nearer ours. They could save many more millions of dollars' +worth of crops for the farmers than they do if they were properly +protected while rearing their ever-hungry families. As two or even +three broods <a name="11">{11}</a> of bluebirds may be raised in a box each spring, and +as insects are their most approved baby food, you see how much it is +to our interest to set up nurseries for them near our homes. +</p> +<p> +But when people are not thoughtful enough to provide them before the +first of March, the bluebirds hunt for a cavity in a fence rail, or a +hole in some old tree, preferably in the orchard, shortly after their +arrival, and proceed to line it with grass. From three to six pale +blue eggs are laid. At first the babies are blind, helpless, and +almost naked. Then they grow a suit of dark feathers with speckled, +thrush-like vests similar to their cousin's, the baby robin's; and it +is not until they are able to fly that the lovely deep blue shade +gradually appears on their grayish upper parts. Then their throat, +breast, and sides turn rusty red. While creatures are helpless, a prey +for any enemy to pounce upon, Nature does not dress them +conspicuously, you may be sure. Adult birds, that are able to look out +for themselves, may be very gaily dressed, but their children must +wear sombre clothes until they grow strong and wise. +</p> +<p> +Young bluebirds are far less wild and noisy than robins, but their +very sharp little claws discourage handling. These pointed hooks on +the ends of their toes help them to climb out of the tree hollow, that +is their natural home, into the big world that their presence makes so +cheerful. +</p> +<a name="12">{12}</a> +<p> +As you might expect of creatures so heavenly in colour, the +disposition of bluebirds is particularly angelic. Gentleness and +amiability are expressed in their soft, musical voice. <i>Tru-al-ly, +tru-al-ly</i>, they sweetly assert when we can scarcely believe that +spring is here; and <i>tur-wee, tur-wee</i> they softly call in autumn when +they go roaming through the country side in flocks of azure, or whirl +through Southern woods to feed on the waxy berries of the mistletoe. +</p> + +<h2>THE WOOD THRUSH +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Song Thrush; Wood Robin; Bell Bird</i></h2> + +<p> +Much more shy and reserved than the social, democratic robin is his +cousin the wood thrush, whom, perhaps, you more frequently hear than +see. Not that he is a recluse, like the hermit thrush, who hides his +nest and lifts up his heavenly voice in deep, cool, forest solitudes; +nor is he even so shy as Wilson's thrush, who prefers to live in low, +wet, densely overgrown Northern woods. The wood thrush, as his name +implies, certainly likes the woodland, but very often he chooses to +stay close to our country and suburban homes or within city parks with +a more than half-hearted determination to be friendly. +</p> + +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i12.jpg" border=1> +<br> +BABY WOOD THRUSHES<br> +Notice the family resemblance between them and the baby robins and +bluebirds. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i13.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A wood thrush startled by the click of the camera. +</p> + +<a name="13">{13}</a> + +<p> +He is about two inches shorter than the robin. Above, his feathers are +a rich cinnamon brown, brightest on his head and shoulders and shading +into olive brown on his tail. His white throat and breast and sides +are heavily marked with heart-shaped marks of very dark brown. He has +a white eye ring. +</p> +<p> +<i> "Here am I"</i> come his three clear, bell-like notes of +self-introduction. The quality of his music is delicious, rich, +penetrative, pure and vibrating like notes struck upon a harp. If you +don't already know this most neighbourly of the thrushes—as he is +also the largest and brightest and most heavily spotted of them all—you +will presently become acquainted with one of the finest songsters +in America. Wait until evening when he sings at his best. +<i> Nolee-a-e-o-lee-nolee-aeolee-lee!</i> peals his song from the trees. +Love alone inspires his finest strains; but even in July, when bird +music is quite inferior to that of May and June, he is still in good +voice. A song so exquisite proves that the thrush comes near to being +a bird angel, very high in the scale of development, and far, far +beyond such low creatures as ducks and chickens. +</p> +<p> +<i> Pit-pit-pit</i> you may hear sharply, excitedly jerked out of some +bird's throat, and you wonder if a note so disagreeable can really +come from the wonderful songster on the branch above your head. By +sharply striking two small stones <a name="14">{14}</a> together you can closely +imitate this alarm call. Whom can he be scolding so severely? It is +yourself, of course, for without knowing it you have come nearer to +his low nest in the beech tree than he thinks quite safe. While +sitting, the mother bird is, however, quite tame. A photographer I +know placed his camera within four feet of a nest, changed the plates, +and clicked the shutter three times for as many pictures without +disturbing the gentle sitter who merely winked her eye at each chick. +</p> +<p> +Wood thrushes seem to delight in weaving bits of paper or rags into +their deep cradles which otherwise resemble the robins.' A nest in the +shrubbery near a bird-lover's home in New Jersey had many bits of +newspaper attached to its outer walls, but the most conspicuous strip +in front advertised in large letters "A House to be Let or Sold." The +original builders happily took the next lease, and another lot of +nervous, fidgety baby tenants came out of four light greenish-blue +eggs; but, as usual, they moved away to the woods, after ten days, to +join the choir invisible. +</p> +<br> +<h2>WILSON'S THRUSH</h2> +<p> +The veery, as the Wilson's thrush is called in New England, is far +more common there than <a name="15">{15}</a> the wood thrush, whose range is more +southerly. During its spring and fall migrations only is it at all +common about the elms and maples that men have planted. Take a good +look at its tawny coat and lightly spotted cream buff breast before it +goes away to hide. Like Kipling's "cat that walked by himself," the +veery prefers the "wild, wet woods," and there its ringing, weird, +whistling monotone, that is so melodious without being a melody, seems +to come from you can't guess where. The singer keeps hidden in the +dense, dark undergrowth. It is as if two voices, an alto and a +soprano, were singing at the same time: <i>Whee-you, whee-you</i>:—the +familiar notes might come from a scythe being sharpened on a +whetstone, were the sound less musical than it is. The bird is too +wise to sing very near its well-hidden nest, which is placed either +directly on the damp ground or not far above it, and usually near +water. Throughout its life the veery seems to show a distrust of us +that, try as we may, few have ever overcome. +</p> +<p> +If you have thought that the thrush-like, cinnamon brown, +speckle-breasted bird, with a long twitching tail like a catbird's, +and a song as fine as a catbird's best, would be mentioned among the +robin's relations, you must guess again, for he is the brown thrasher, +not a thrush at all. You will find him in the Group of Lively Singers. +</p> +<a name="16">{16}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="17">{17}</a> +<br> + +<h1>CHAPTER II +<br><br> +SOME NEIGHBOURLY ACROBATS</h1> + +<p class="cite"> + Chickadee<br> + Tufted Titmouse<br> + White-breasted Nuthatch<br> + Red-breasted Nuthatch<br> + Ruby-crowned Kinglet<br> + Golden-crowned Kinglet +</p> + +<a name="18">{18}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="19">{19}</a> + +<h2>THE CHICKADEE +<br><br> +<i>Called also: Black-capped Titmouse</i></h2> + +<p> +Bitterly cold and dreary though the day may be, that "little scrap of +valour," the chickadee, keeps his spirits high until ours cannot but +be cheered by the oft-repeated, clear, tinkling silvery notes that +spell his name. <i>Chicka-dee-dee: chicka-dee-dee:</i> he introduces +himself. How easy it would be for every child to know the birds if all +would but sing out their names so clearly! Oh, don't you wish they +would? +<p class="cite"> + "Piped a tiny voice near by<br> + Gay and polite—a cheerful cry—<br> + <i>Chick-chickadeedee!</i> Saucy note<br> + Out of sound heart and merry throat.<br> + As if it said, 'Good day, good Sir!<br> + Fine afternoon, old passenger!<br> + Happy to meet you in these places<br> + Where January brings few faces.'" +</p> +<p> +No bird, except the wren, is more cheerful than the chickadee, and his +cheerfulness, fortunately, is just as "catching" as measels. None will +respond more promptly to your whistle in imitation of his three very +high, clear call notes, and come nearer and nearer to make quite sure +you <a name="20">{20}</a> are only a harmless mimic. He is very inquisitive. Although +not a bird may be in sight when you first whistle his call, nine +chances out of ten there will be a faint echo from some far distant +throat before very long; and by repeating the notes at short intervals +you will have, probably, not one but several echoes from as many +different chickadees whose curiosity to see you soon gets the better +of their appetites and brings them flying, by easy stages, to the tree +above your head. Where there is one chickadee there are apt to be more +in the neighbourhood; for these sociable, active, cheerful little +black-capped fellows in gray like to hunt for their living in loose +scattered flocks throughout the fall and winter. When they come near +enough, notice the pale rusty wash on the sides of their under parts +which are more truly dirty white than gray. Chickadees are wonderfully +tame: except the chipping sparrow, perhaps the tamest birds that we +have. Patient people, who know how to whistle up these friendly +sprites, can sometimes draw them close enough to touch, and an elect +few, who have the special gift of winning a wild bird's confidence, +can induce the chickadee to alight upon their hands. +</p> +<p> +Blessed with a thick coat of fat under his soft, fluffy gray feathers, +a hardy constitution and a sunny disposition, what terrors has the +winter for him? When the thermometer goes down, <a name="21">{21}</a> his spirits seem +to go up the higher. Dangling like a circus acrobat on the cone of +some tall pine tree; standing on an outstretched twig, then turning +over and hanging with his black-capped head downward from the high +trapeze; carefully inspecting the rough bark on the twigs for a fat +grub or a nest of insect eggs, he is constantly hunting for food and +singing grace between bites. His <i>day, day, day</i>, sung softly over and +over again, seems to be his equivalent for "Give us this day our daily +bread." +</p> +<p> +How delightfully he and his busy friends, who are always within call, +punctuate the snow-muffled, mid-winter silence with their ringing +calls of good cheer! The orchards where chickadees, titmice, +nuthatches, and kinglets have dined all winter, will contain few +worm-eaten apples next season. Here is a puzzle for your arithmetic +class: If one chickadee eats four hundred and forty-four eggs of the +apple tree moth on Monday, three hundred and thirty-three eggs of the +canker worm on Tuesday, and seven hundred and seventy-seven +miscellaneous grubs, larvae, and insect eggs on Wednesday and +Thursday, how long will it take a flock of twenty-two chickadees to +rid an orchard of every-unspeakable pest? One very wise and thrifty +fruit grower I know attracts to his trees all the winter birds from +far and near, by keeping on several shelves nailed up in his orchard, +<a name="22">{22}</a> bits of suet, cheap raisins, raw peanuts chopped fine, cracked +hickory nuts and rinds of pork. The free lunch counters are freely +patronised. There is scarcely an hour in the day, no matter how cold, +when some hungry feathered neighbour may not be seen helping himself +to the heating, fattening food he needs to keep his blood warm. +</p> +<p> +At the approach of warm weather, chickadees retreat from public gaze +to become temporary recluses in damp, deep woods or woodland swamps +where insects are most plentiful. For a few months they give up their +friendly flocking ways and live in pairs. Long journeys they do not +undertake from the North when it is time to nest; but Southern birds +move northward in the spring. Happily the chickadee may find a +woodpecker's vacant hole in some hollow tree; worse luck if a new +excavation must be made in a decayed birch—the favourite nursery. +Wool from the sheep pasture, felt from fern fronds, bits of bark, +moss, hair, and the fur of "little beasts of field and wood"—anything +soft that may be picked up goes to line the hollow cradle in the +tree-trunk. How the crowded chickadee babies must swelter in their bed +of fur and feathers tucked inside a close, stuffy hole! Is it not +strange that such hardy parents should coddle their children so? +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i22.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The chickadee at her front door. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i23.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young nuthatches learning their first lesson in balancing on a +horizontal bar. +</p> + +<a name="23">{23}</a> + +<h2>TUFTED TITMOUSE +<br><br> +<i>Called also: Peto Bird; Crested Tomtit; Crested Titmouse</i> +</h2> +<p> +Don't expect to meet the tufted titmouse if you live very far north of +Washington. He is common only in the South and West. +</p> +<p> +This pert and lively cousin of the lovable little chickadee is not +quite so friendly and far more noisy. <i>Peto-peto-peto</i> comes his loud, +clear whistle from the woods and clearings where he and his large +family are roving restlessly about all through the autumn and winter. +A famous musician became insane because he heard one note ringing +constantly in his overwrought brain. If you ever hear a troupe of +titmice whistling <i>Peto</i> over and over again for hours at a time, you +will pity poor Schumann and fear a similar fate for the birds. But +they seem to delight in the two tiresome notes, uttered sometimes in +one key, sometimes in another. Another call—<i>day-day-day</i>—reminds +you of the chickadee's, only the tufted titmouse's voice is louder and +a little hoarse, as it well might be from such constant use. +</p> +<p> +Few birds that we see about our homes wear a top knot on their heads. +The big cardinal has a handsome red one, the larger blue jay's is +bluish gray, the cedar waxwing's is a Quaker <a name="24">{24}</a> drab; but the little +titmouse, who is the size of an English sparrow, may be named at once +by the gray pointed crest that makes him look so pert and jaunty. When +he hangs head downward from the trapeze on the oak tree, this little +gray acrobat's peaked cap seems to be falling off; whereas the black +skull cap on the smaller chickadee fits close to his head no matter +how much he turns over the bar and dangles. +</p> +<p> +Neither one of these cousins is a carpenter like the woodpecker. The +titmouse has a short, stout bill without a chisel on it, which is why +it cannot chip out a hole for a nest in a tree trunk or old stump +unless the wood is much decayed. You see why these birds are so +pleased to find a deserted woodpecker's hole. Not alone are they saved +the trouble of making one, but a deep tunnel in a tree-trunk means +security for their babies against hawks, crows, jays, and other foes, +as well as against wind and rain. +</p> +<p> +When you find a flock of either chickadees or titmice, you may be sure +it is made up chiefly, if not entirely, of the birds of one or two +broods of the same parents. Their families are usually large and the +members devoted to one another. Titmice nest in April so that you +cannot tell the brothers and sisters from the father and mother when +the troupe of acrobats leave the woods in <a name="25">{25}</a> early autumn and +whistle lustily about your home. +</p> +<br> +<h2>WHITE-BREASTED NUTHATCH +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Tree Mouse; Devil Downhead.</i> +</h2> +<p> +When it comes to acrobatic performances in the trees, neither the +chickadee nor the titmouse can rival their relatives, the little +bluish gray nuthatches. Indeed, any circus might be glad to secure +their expert services. Hanging fearlessly from the topmost branches of +the tallest pine, running along the under side of horizontal limbs as +comfortably as along the top of them, or descending the trunk head +foremost, these wonderful little gymnasts keep their nerves as cool as +the thermometer in January. From the way they travel over any part of +the tree they wish, from top and tip to the bottom of it, no wonder +they are sometimes called Tree Mice. Only the fly that walks across +the ceiling, however, can compete with them in clinging to the under +side of boughs. +</p> +<p> +Why don't they fall off? If you ever have a chance, examine their +claws. These, you will see, are very much curved and have sharp little +hooks that catch in any crack or rough place in the bark and easily +support the bird's weight. As a general rule the chickadee keeps to +the <a name="26">{26}</a> end of the twigs and the smaller branches; the tufted +titmouse rids the larger boughs of insects, eggs, and worms hidden in +the scaly bark; but the nuthatches can climb to more inaccessible +places. With the help of the hooks on their toes it does not matter to +them whether they run upward, downward, or sidewise; and they can +stretch their bodies away from their feet at some very queer angles. +Their long bills penetrate into deep holes in the thick bark of the +tree trunks and older limbs and bring forth from their hiding places +insects that would escape almost every other bird except the brown +creeper and the woodpecker. Of course, when you see any feathered +acrobat performing in the trees, you know he is working hard to pick +up a dinner, not exercising merely for fun. The most familiar +nuthatch, in the eastern United States, is the one with the white +breast; but in the Northern States and Canada there is another common +winter neighbour, a smaller compactly feathered, bluish gray gymnast +with a pale rusty breast, a conspicuous black line running apparently +through his eye from the base of his bill to the nape of his neck, and +heavy white eyebrows. This is the hardy little red-breasted nuthatch. +His voice is pitched rather high and his drawling notes seem to come +from a lazy bird instead of one of the most vigorous and spry little +creatures in the wood. The <a name="27">{27}</a> nasal <i>ank-ank</i> of his white-breasted +cousin is uttered, too, without expression, as if the bird were +compelled to make a sound once in a while against his will. Both of +these cousins have similar habits. Both are a trifle smaller than the +English sparrow. In summer they merely hide away in the woods to nest, +for they are not migrants. It is only when nesting duties are over in +the autumn that they become neighbourly. +</p> +<p> +Who gave them their queer name? A hatchet would be a rather clumsy +tool for us to use in opening a nut, but these birds have a +convenient, ever-ready one in their long, stout, sharply pointed bills +with which they hack apart the small thin-shelled nuts like beech nuts +and hazel nuts, chinquapins and chestnuts, kernels of corn and +sunflower seeds. These they wedge into cracks in the bark just big +enough to hold them. During the summer and early autumn when insects +are plentiful, the nuthatches eat little else; and then they thriftily +store away the other items on their bill of fare, squirrel fashion, so +that when frost kills the insects, they may vary their diet of insect +eggs and grubs with nuts and the larger grain. Flying to the spot +where a nut has been securely wedged, perhaps weeks before, the bird +scores and hacks and pecks it open with his sharp little hatchet, +whose hard blows may be heard far away. +</p> +<a name="28">{28}</a> +<p> +Although this tool is a great help to the nuthatches in making their +nests, they appear to be quite as ready to accept a deserted +woodpecker's hole as the chickadee with a smaller bill. A natural +cavity will answer, or, if they must, they will make one in some +forest tree. The red-breasted nuthatches have a curious habit of +smearing the entrance to the hole with fir-balsam or pitch. Why do you +suppose they do it? Perhaps they think this will discourage egg +suckers, like snakes, mice, or squirrels; but, in effect, the sticky +gum often pulls the feathers from their own breasts as they go in and +out attending to the wants of their family. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET</h2> + +<p> +Count that a red-letter day on your calendar when first you see either +this tiny, dainty sprite, or his next of kin, the golden-crowned +kinglet, fluttering, twinkling about the evergreens. In republican +America we don't often have the chance to meet two crowned heads. +Energetic as wrens, restless as warblers, and as perpetually looking +for insect food, the kinglets flit with a sudden, jerking motion from +twig to twig among the trees and bushes, now on the lawn, now in the +orchard and presently in the hedgerow down the lane. They have a +pretty <a name="29">{29}</a> trick of lifting and flitting their wings every little +while. The bluebird and pine grosbeak have it too, but their much +larger, trembling wings seem far less nervous. +</p> +<p> +Happily the kinglets are not at all shy; no bird is that is hatched +out so far north that it never sees a human being until it travels +southward to spend the winter. Alas! It is the birds that know us too +well that are often the most afraid. When the leaves are turning +crimson and russet and gold in the autumn, keep a sharp look out for +the plump little grayish, olive green birds that are even smaller than +wrens, and not very much larger than hummingbirds. Although members of +quite a different family—the kinglets are exclusive—they condescend +to join the nuthatches and chickadees in the orchard to help clean the +farmer's fruit trees or pick up a morsel at the free lunch counter in +zero weather. Love or war is necessary to make the king show us his +crown. But vanity or anger is sufficient excuse for lifting the dark +feathers that nearly conceal the beauty spot on the top of his head +when the midget's mind is at ease. If you approach very near—and he +will allow you to almost touch him—you may see the little patch of +brilliant red feathers, it is true, but you will probably get an +unexpected, chattering scolding from the little king as he flies away. +</p> +<a name="30">{30}</a> +<p> +In the spring his love song is as surprisingly strong in proportion to +his size as the wren's. It seems impossible for such a volume of +mellow flute-like melody to pour from a throat so tiny. Before we have +a chance to hear it again the singer is off with his tiny queen to +nest in some spruce tree beyond the Canadian border. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i30.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The noisy contents of a soap box: a family of house wrens. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i31.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The marsh wren's round cradle swung among the rushes. +</p> + +<a name="31">{31}</a> + + +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER III +<br><br> +A GROUP OF LIVELY SINGERS</h1> + +<p class="cite"> + House Wren<br> + Carolina Wren<br> + Marsh Wren<br> + Brown Thrasher<br> + Catbird<br> + Mockingbird +</p> + +<a name="32">{32}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="33">{33}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE HOUSE WREN</h2> +<p> +If you want some jolly little neighbours for the summer, invite the +wrens to live near you year after year by putting up small, one-family +box-houses under the eaves of the barn, the cow-shed, or the +chicken-house, on the grape arbour or in the orchard. Beware of a pair +of nesting wrens in a box nailed against a piazza post: they beat any +alarm clock for arousing the family at sunrise. +</p> +<p> +Save the starch boxes, cover them with strips of bark, or give them +two coats of paint to match the building they are to be nailed on. Cut +a hole that you have marked on one end of each box by drawing a lead +pencil around a silver quarter of a dollar. A larger hole would mean +that English sparrows, who push themselves everywhere where not +invited, would probably take possession of each house as fast as you +nailed it up. Of course the little one-roomed cottages should have a +number of small holes bored on the sides near the top to give the +wrens plenty of fresh air. Have the boxes in place not later than the +first of April—then watch. Would it not be a pity for any would-be +tenants to pass by your home because they could <a name="34">{34}</a> not find a house +to let? Wrens really prefer boxes to the holes in stumps and trees +they used to occupy before there were any white people with thoughtful +children on this continent. But the little tots have been known to +build in tin cans, coat pockets, old shoes, mittens, hats, glass jars, +and even inside a human skull that a medical student hung out in the +sun to bleach! +</p> +<p> +When you are sound asleep some April morning, a tiny brown bird, just +returned from a long visit south of the Carolinas, will probably +alight on the perch in front of one of your boxes, peep in the +doorhole, enter—although his pert little cocked-up-tail has to be +lowered to let him through—look about with approval, go out, spring +to the roof and pour out of his wee throat a gushing torrent of music. +The song seems to bubble up faster than he can sing. "Foive notes to +wanst" was an Irishman's description of it. After the wren's happy +discovery of a place to live, his song will go off in a series of +musical explosions all day long, now from the roof, now from the +clothesposts, the fence, the barn, or the wood-pile. There never was a +more tireless, spirited, brilliant singer. From the intensity of his +feelings, he sometimes droops that expressive little tail of his, +which is usually so erect and saucy. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i34.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Like "Brer Rabbit" the catbird is usually "bred and bawn in a brier patch." +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i35.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Another tragedy of the nests: what villain ate the catbird's eggs? +</p> + +<a name="35">{35}</a> + +<p> +With characteristic energy, he frequently begins to carry twigs into +the house before he finds a mate. The day little Jenny Wren appears on +the scene, how he does sing! Dashing off for more twigs, but stopping +to sing to her every other minute, he helps furnish the cottage +quickly, but, of course, he overdoes—he carries in more twigs and hay +and feathers than the little house can hold, then pulls half of them +out again. Jenny gathers too, for she is a bustling housewife and +arranges matters with neatness and despatch. Neither vermin nor dirt +will she tolerate within her well-kept home. Everything she does to +suit herself pleases her ardent little lover. He applauds her with +song; he flies about after her with a nervous desire to protect; he +seems beside himself with happiness. Let any one pass too near his +best beloved, and he begins to chatter excitedly: +<i> "Chit-chit-chit-chit"</i> as much as to say, "Oh, do go away; go +quickly! Can't you see how nervous and fidgety you make me?" +</p> +<p> +If you fancy that Jenny Wren, who is patiently sitting on the little +pinkish chocolate spotted eggs in the centre of her feather bed, is a +demure, angelic creature, you have never seen her attack the sparrow, +nearly twice her size, that dares put his impudent head inside her +door. Oh, how she flies at him! How she chatters and scolds! What a +plucky little shrew she is, after all! Her piercing, chattering, <a name="36">{36}</a> +scolding notes are fairly hissed into his ears until he is thankful +enough to escape. +</p> +<br> +<p class="center"> + THE LITTLE BROWN WREN<br> + From "Boy's Book of Rhyme," by Clinton Scollard +</p> +<p class="cite"> + There's a little brown wren that has built in our tree,<br> + And she's scarcely as big as a big bumble-bee;<br> + She has hollowed a house in the heart of a limb,<br> + And made the walls tidy and made the floors trim<br> + With the down of the crow's foot, with tow, and with straw<br> + The cosiest dwelling that ever you saw.<br> +<br><br> + This little brown wren has the brightest of eyes<br> + And a foot of a very diminutive size.<br> + Her tail is as trig as the sail of a ship.<br> + She's demure, though she walks with a hop and a skip;<br> + And her voice—but a flute were more fit than a pen<br> + To tell of the voice of the little brown wren. +<br><br> + One morning Sir Sparrow came sauntering by<br> + And cast on the wren's house an envious eye;<br> + With a strut of bravado and toss of his head,<br> + "I'll put in my claim here," the bold fellow said;<br> + So straightway he mounted on impudent wing,<br> + And entered the door without pausing to ring. +<br><br> + An instant—and swiftly that feathery knight<br> + All towsled and tumbled, in terror took flight,<br> + While there by the door on her favourite perch,<br> + As neat as a lady just starting for church.<br> + With this song on her lips, "He will not call again<br> + Unless he is asked," sat the little brown wren. +</p> +<br> +<p> +If the bluebirds had her courage and hot, quick temper, they would +never let the sparrows drive them away from their boxes. Unfortunately +a hole large enough to admit a <a name="37">{37}</a> bluebird will easily admit those +grasping monopolists; but Jenny Wren is safe, if she did but know it, +in her house with its tiny front door. It is amusing to see a sparrow +try to work his shoulders through the small hole of an empty wren +house, pushing and kicking madly, but all in vain. +</p> +<p> +What rent do the wrens pay for their little houses? No man is clever +enough to estimate the vast numbers of insects on your place that they +destroy. They eat nothing else, which is the chief reason why they are +so lively and excitable. Unable to soar after flying insects because +of their short, round wings, they keep, as a rule, rather close to the +ground which their finely barred brown feathers so closely match. +Whether hunting for grubs in the wood-pile, scrambling over the brush +heap after spiders, searching among the trees to provide a dinner for +their large families, or creeping, like little feathered mice, in +queer nooks and crannies among the outbuildings on the farm, they are +always busy in your interest which is also theirs. It certainly pays, +in every sense, to encourage wrens. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE CAROLINA WREN</h2> +<p> +The house wrens have a tiny cousin, a mite of a bird, called the +winter wren, that is so shy <a name="38">{38}</a> and retiring you will probably never +become well acquainted with it. It delights in mossy, rocky woods near +running water. But a larger chestnut brown cousin, the Carolina wren, +with a prominent white eyebrow, a bird which is quite common in the +Middle and Southern States, sometimes nests in outbuildings and in all +sorts of places about the farm. However, he too really prefers the +forest undergrowths near water, fallen logs, half decayed stumps, and +mossy rocks where insects lurk but cannot hide from his sharp, peering +eyes. Now here, now there, appearing and disappearing, never at rest, +even his expressive tail being in constant motion, he seems more +nervously active than Jenny Wren's fidgety husband. +</p> +<p> +Some people call him the mocking wren, but I think he never +deliberately tries to imitate other birds. Why should he? It is true +that his loud-ringing, three-syllabled whistle, <i>"Tea-ket-tle, +Tea-ket-tle, Tea-ket-tle"</i> suggests the crested titmouse's <i>"peto"</i> of +two syllables, but in quality only; and some have thought that his +whistled notes are difficult to distinguish from the one-syllabled, +but oft-repeated, long-drawn <i>quoit</i> of the cardinal. These three +birds are frequently to be heard in the same neighbourhood and you may +easily compare their voices; but if you listen carefully, I think you +will not accuse the wren of trying to mock either of the <a name="39">{39}</a> others. +In addition to his ringing, whistled notes, he can make other sounds +peculiarly his own: trills and quavers, scolding <i>cacks</i>, rattling +<i> kringggs</i>, something like the tree toad's, besides the joyful, +lyrical melody that has given him his reputation as a musician. Even +these do not complete his repertoire. To deliver his famous song, he +chooses a conspicuous position in the top of some bush or low tree; +then, with head uplifted and tail drooping—a favourite posture of all +these lively singers—he makes us very glad indeed that we heard him. +Happily he sings almost as many months in the year as the most +cheerful bird we have, the song sparrow. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE MARSH WREN</h2> +<p> +Hidden among the tall grasses and reeds along the creeks and rivers, +lives the long-billed marsh wren, a nervous, active little creature +that you know at a glance. With tail cocked up and even tilted forward +toward her head in the extreme of wren fashion, or suddenly jerked +downward to help keep her balance, she sways with the grass as it +blows in the wind—a dainty little sprite. With no desire to make your +acquaintance, she flies with a short, jerky motion (because of her +short wings) a few rods away, <a name="40">{40}</a> then drops into the grasses which +engulf her as surely as if she had dropped into the sea. You may +search in vain to find her now. Like the rails, she has her paths and +runways among the tall sedges and cat-tails, where not even a boy in +rubber boots may safely follow. +</p> +<p> +But she does not live alone. Withdraw, sit down quietly for awhile and +wait for the excitement of your visit to subside; for every member of +the wren colony, peering sharply at you through the grasses, was +watching you long before you saw the first wren. Presently you hear a +rippling, bubbling song from one of her neighbours; then another and +another and still another from among the cat-tails which, you now +suspect, conceal many musicians. The song goes off like a small +explosion of melody whose force often carries the tiny singer up into +the air. One explosion follows another, and between them there is much +wren talk—a scolding chatter that is as great a relief to the birds' +nervous energy as the exhaust from its safety valve is to a steam +engine. The rising of a red-winged blackbird from his home in the +sedges, the rattle of the kingfisher on his way up the creek, or the +leisurely flapping of a bittern over the marshes is enough to start +the chattering chorus. +</p> +<p> +Why are the birds so excited? This is their nesting season, May, and +really they are too <a name="41">{41}</a> busy to be bothered by visitors. Most birds +are content to make one nest a year but not these, who, in their +excess of wren energy, keep on building nest after nest in the +vicinity of the one preferred for their chocolate brown eggs. Bending +down the tips of the rushes they somehow manage to weave them, with +the weeds and grasses they bring, into a bulky ball suspended between +the rushes and firmly attached to them. In one side of this green +grassy globe they leave an entrance through which to carry the finer +grasses for the lining and the down from last season's bursted +cat-tails. When a nest is finished, its entrance is often cleverly +concealed. If there are several feet of water below the high and dry +cradle, so much the better, think the wrens—fewer enemies can get at +them; but they do sometimes build in meadows that are merely damp. In +such meadows the short-billed marsh wren, a slightly smaller sprite, +prefers to live. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE BROWN THRASHER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Brown Thrush; Long Thrush; +Ground Thrush; Red Thrush; French Mocking-bird; Mavis.</i> +</h2> +<p> +People who are not very well acquainted with the birds about them +usually mistake the <a name="42">{42}</a> long-tailed brown thrasher for a thrush +because he has a rusty back and a speckled white breast, which they +seem to think is an exclusive thrush characteristic, which it +certainly is not. The oven-bird and several members of the sparrow +tribe, among other birds, have speckled and streaked breasts, too. The +brown thrasher is considerably larger than a thrush and his habits are +quite different. Watch him nervously twitch his long tail, or work it +up and down like one end of a see-saw, or suddenly jerk it up erect +while he sits at attention in the thicket, then droop it when, after +mounting to a conspicuous perch, he lifts his head to sing, and you +will probably "guess right the very first time" that he is a near +relative of the wrens, not a thrush at all. As a little sailor-boy +once said to me, "He carries his tell-tail on the stern." +</p> +<p> +Like his cousin, the catbird, the brown thrasher likes to live in +bushy thickets overgrown with vines. Here, running over the ground +among the fallen leaves, he picks up with his long slender bill, +worms, May beetles and scores of other kinds of insects that, but for +him, would soon find their way to the garden, orchard, and fields. Yet +few farmers ever thank him. Because they don't often see him picking +up the insects in their cultivated land, they wrongly conclude that he +does them no benefit, only mischief, <a name="43">{43}</a> because, occasionally, he +does eat a little fruit. It seems to be a dreadful sin for a fellow in +feathers to help himself to a strawberry or a cherry or a little grain +now and then, although, having eaten quantities of insects that, but +for him, would have destroyed them, who has earned a better right to a +share of the profits? +</p> +<p> +Do you think the brown thrasher looks any more like a cuckoo than he +does like a thrush? Simply because he is nearly as long as the dull +brownish cuckoo and has a brown back, though of quite a different +tawny shade, some boys and girls say it is difficult to tell the two +birds apart. The cuckoo glides through the air as easily as if he were +floating down stream, whereas the thrasher's flight, like the wren's, +is tilting, uneven, flapping, and often jerky. If you make good use of +your sharp eyes, you will be able to tell many birds by their flight +alone, long before you can see the colour of their feathers. The +passive cuckoo has no speckles on his light breast, and the +yellow-billed cuckoo, at least, has white thumb-nail spots on his +well-behaved tail, which he never thrashes, twitches, and balances as +the active, suspicious thrasher does his. Moreover the cuckoo's notes +sound like a tree-toad's rattle, while the thrasher's song—a merry +peal of music—entrances every listener. He seems rather proud of it, +to tell the truth, for although at <a name="44">{44}</a> other times he may keep +himself concealed among the shrubbery, when about to sing, he chooses +a conspicuous perch as if to attract attention to his truly brilliant +performance. +</p> +<p> +The thrasher has been called a ground "thrush" because it so often +chooses to place its nest at the roots of tall weeds in an open field; +but a low bush frequently suits it quite as well. Its bulky nest is +not a very choice piece of architecture. Twigs, leaves, vine tendrils, +and bits of bark form its walls, and the speckled, greenish blue eggs +within are usually laid upon a lining of fine black rootlets. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE CATBIRD</h2> +<p> +Slim, lithe, elegant, dainty, the catbird, as he runs lightly over the +lawn or hunts among the shrubbery, appears to be a fine gentleman +among his kind—a sort of Beau Brummel in smooth, gray feathers who +has preened and prinked until his toilet is quite faultless. You would +not be surprised to hear that he slept on rose petals and manicured +his claws. He is among the first to discover the bathing dish or +drinking pan that you have set up in your garden, for he is not too +squeamish, in spite of his fine appearance, to drink from his bath. +With well-poised, black-capped head erect, and <a name="45">{45}</a> tail up too, wren +fashion, he stands at attention on the rim of the dish, alert, +listening, tense—the neatest, trimmest figure in birddom. +</p> +<p> +After he has flown off to the nearest thicket, what a change suddenly +comes over him! Can it be the same bird? With puffed out, ruffled +feathers, hanging head, and drooping tail, he now suggests a fat, +tousled schoolboy, just tumbled out of bed. Was ever a bird more +contradictory? One minute, from the depths of the bushy undergrowth +where he loves to hide, he delights you with the sweetest of songs, +not loud like the brown thrasher's, but similar; only it is more +exquisitely finished, and rippling. <i>"Prut! Prut! coquillicot!"</i> he +begins. <i>"Really, really, coquillicot! Hey, coquillicot! Hey, +victory!"</i> his inimitable song goes on like a rollicking recitative. +The next minute you would gladly stop your ears when he utters the +disagreeable cat-call that has given him his name. <i>"Zeay, +Zeay"</i>—whines the petulant cry. Now you see him on the ground calmly +looking for grasshoppers, or daintily helping himself to a morsel from +the dog's plate at the kitchen door. Suddenly, with a jerk and a jump, +he has sprung into the air to seize a passing moth. There is always +the pleasure of variety and the unexpected about the catbird. +</p> +<p> +He is very intelligent and friendly, like his cousin, the mockingbird. +One catbird that <a name="46">{46}</a> comes to visit me at least ten times every day, +can scarcely wait for the milk to be poured into the dog's bowl before +he has flown to the brim for the first drink. Once, in his eagerness, +he alighted on the pitcher in my hand. He has a pretty trick of flying +to the sun dial as if he wished to learn the time of day. From this +point of vantage, he will sail off suddenly, like a flycatcher, to +seize an insect on the wing. He has a keen appetite for so many pests +of the garden and orchard—moths, grasshoppers, beetles, caterpillars, +spiders, flies and other insects—that his friendship, you see, is +well worth cultivating. Five catbirds, whose diet was carefully +watched by scientific men in Washington, ate thirty grasshoppers each +for one meal. +</p> +<p> +Yet how many people ignorantly abuse the catbird! Because he has the +good taste to like strawberries and cherries as well as we do, is he +to be condemned on that account? If he kills insects for us every +waking hour from April to October, don't you think he is entitled to a +little fruit in June? The ox that treadeth out the corn is not to be +muzzled, so that he cannot have a taste of it, you remember. A good +way to protect our strawberry patches and cherry trees from catbirds, +mockingbirds, and robins, is to provide fruit that they like much +better—the red mulberry. Nothing attracts so many birds to a place. +A mulberry tree in the chicken <a name="47">{47}</a> yard provides a very popular +restaurant, not only for the song birds among the branches, but for +the scratchers on the ground floor. +</p> +<p> +Like the yellow-breasted chat, the catbird likes to hide its nest in a +tangle of cat brier along the roadside undergrowth and in bushy, +woodland thickets. Last winter, when that vicious vine had lost every +leaf, I counted in it eighteen catbird nests within a quarter of a +mile along a country lane. Long before the first snowstorm, the +inmates of those nests were enjoying summer weather again from the +Gulf States to Panama. If one nest should be disturbed in May or June, +when the birds are raising their families, all the catbird neighbours +join in the outcry of mews and cat-calls. Should a disaster happen to +the parents, the orphans will receive food and care from some devoted +foster-mother until they are able to fly. You see catbirds are +something far better than intelligent, musical dandies. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE MOCKINGBIRD</h2> +<p> +What child is there who does not know the mockingbird, caged or free? +In the North you very rarely see one now-a-days behind prison bars, +for, happily, several enlightened states have made laws to punish +people who keep our wild birds in cages or offer them for sale, dead +or <a name="48">{48}</a> alive. When all the states make and enforce similar laws, +there will be an end to the barbaric slaughter of many birds for no +more worthy end than the trimming of hats for thoughtless girls and +women. Birds of bright plumage have suffered most, of course, but the +mocking-birds' nests have been robbed for so many generations to +furnish caged fledglings for both American and European bird dealers, +that shot guns could have done no work more deadly. Where the people +are too ignorant to understand what mockingbirds are doing for them +every day in the year by eating insects in their gardens, fields, +parks, and public squares, they are shot in great numbers for the sole +offence of helping themselves to a small fraction of the very fruit +they have helped to preserve. Even the birds ought to have a "square +deal" in free America: don't you think so? +</p> +<p> +Although not afflicted with "the fatal gift of beauty," at least not +the gaudy kind, like the cardinal's and scarlet tanager's, the +mocking-bird's wonderful voice has brought upon him an equal quantity +of troubles. Keenly intelligent though he is, he does not know enough +to mope and refuse to sing in a cage, but whiles away the tedious +hours of his captivity by all manner of amusing and delightful sounds. +Indeed it has been found that the household pet is apt to be a better +mocker than the wild bird—a <a name="49">{49}</a> most unfortunate discovery. Not only +does he imitate the notes of birds about him, but he invents all +manner of quips and vocal jugglery. +</p> +<p> +His love song is entrancing. "Oft in the stilly night," when the +moonlight sheds a silvery radiance about every sleeping creature, the +mockingbird sings to his mate such delicious music as only the +European nightingale can rival. Perhaps the stillness of the hour, the +beauty and fragrance of the place where the singer is hidden among the +orange blossoms or magnolia, increase the magic of his almost +pathetically sweet voice; but surely there is no lovelier sound in +nature on this side of the sea. Our poet Lanier declared that this +"heavenly bird" will be hailed as "Brother" by Beethoven and Keats +when he enters the choir invisible in the spirit world. +</p> +<p> +Ever alert, on the <i>qui vive</i>, the mockingbird can no more suppress +the music within him, night or day, than he can keep his nervous, +high-strung body at rest. From his restlessness alone you might know +he is the cousin of the catbird and brown thrasher and is closely +related to the wrens. Flitting from perch to perch (fluttering is one +of his chief amusements even in a cage), taking short flights from +tree to tree, and so displaying the white signals on his wings and +tail, hopping lightly, swiftly, gracefully over the ground, bounding +into the air, <a name="50">{50}</a> or the next minute shooting his ashy gray body far +across the garden and leaving a wake of music behind as he flies, he +seems to be perpetually in motion. If you live in the South you can +encourage no more delightful neighbour than this star performer in the +group of lively singers. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i51.jpg" border=1> +<br> +"MAMMA!"<br> +Young mockingbird calling for breakfast +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i52a.jpg" border=1> +<br> + All is well with this yellow warbler's nest +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i52b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Dinner for one: a black-and-white warbler feeding her baby +</p> +<br> +<a name="51">{51}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="52">{52}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER IV +<br><br> +THE WARBLERS</h1> + +<p class="cite"> + Yellow Warbler<br> + Black and White Creeping Warbler<br> + Oven-bird<br> + Maryland Yellow-throat<br> + Yellow-breasted Chat<br> + Redstart +</p> +<a name="53">{53}</a> +<p> +<h2>YELLOW WARBLER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Summer Yellowbird; Wild Canary.</i> +</h2> +<p> +Rather than live where the skies are gray and the air is cold, this +adventurous little warbler will travel two thousand miles or more to +follow the sun. A trip from Panama to Canada and back again within +five months does not appall him. By living in perpetual sunshine his +feathers seemed to have absorbed some of it, so that he looks like a +stray sunbeam playing among the shrubbery on the lawn, the trees in +the orchard, the bushes in the roadside thicket, the willows and +alders beside the stream. He is shorter than the English sparrow by an +inch. Although you may not get close enough to see that his yellow +breast is finely streaked with reddish brown, you may know by these +marks that he is not what you at first suspected he was—somebody's +pet canary escaped from a cage. It is not he but the goldfinch—the +yellow bird with the black wings—who sings like a canary. Happily he +is so neighbourly that every child may easily become acquainted with +this most common member of the large warbler family. +</p> +<a name="54">{54}</a> +<p> +I don't believe there is anybody living who could name at sight every +one of the seventy warblers that visit the United States. Some are +very gaily coloured and exquisitely marked, as birds coming to us from +the tropics have a right to be. Some are quietly clad; some, like the +redstart, are dressed quite differently from their mates and young; +others, like the yellow warbler, are so nearly alike that you could +see no difference between the male and female from the distance of a +few feet. Some live in the tops of evergreens and other tall trees; +others, like the Maryland yellow-throat, which seems to prefer low +trees and shrubbery, are rarely seen over twelve feet from the ground. +A few, like the oven-bird, haunt the undergrowth in the woods or live +most of the time on the earth. With three or four exceptions all the +warblers dwell in woodlands, and it is only during the spring and +autumn migrations that we have an opportunity to become acquainted +with them; when they come about the orchard and shrubbery for a few +days' rest and refreshment during their travels. Fortunately the +cheerful little yellow warbler stays around our homes all summer long. +Did you ever know a family so puzzling and contradictory as the +Warblers? +</p> +<p> +The great majority of these fascinating and exasperating relatives are +nervous, restless little sprites, constantly flitting from branch to +<a name="55">{55}</a> branch and from twig to twig in a never-ending search for small +insects. As well try to catch a weasel asleep as a warbler at rest. +People who live in the tropics, even for a little while, soon become +lazy. Not so the warblers, whose energy, like a steam engine's, seems +to be increased by heat. Of course they do not undertake long journeys +merely for pleasure, as wealthy human tourists do. They must migrate +to find food; and as insects are most plentiful in warm weather, you +see why these atoms of animation keep in perpetual motion. They are +among the last migrants to come north in the spring and among the +first to leave in the autumn because insects don't hatch out in cool +weather, and the birds must always be sure of plenty to eat. +Travelling as they do, chiefly by night, they are killed in numbers +against the lighthouses and electric light towers which especially +fascinate these poor little victims. +</p> +<p> +Who first misled us by calling these birds warblers? The truth is +there is not one really fine singer, like a thrush, in the whole +family. The yellow-breasted chat has remarkable vocal ability, but he +is not a real musician like the mockingbird, who also likes to have +fun with his voice. The warblers, as a rule, have weak, squeaky, or +wiry songs and lisping <i>tseep</i> call notes, neither of which ought to +be called a warble. The yellow warbler sings as acceptably <a name="56">{56}</a> as +most of his kin. Seven times he rapidly repeats +<i> "Sweet—sweet—sweet—sweet—sweet—sweeter—sweeter"</i> to his +sweetheart, but this happy little lovemaker's incessant song is apt to +become almost tiresome to everybody except his mate. +</p> +<p> +What a clever little creature she is! More than any other bird she +suffers from the persecutions of that dusky rascal, the cowbird. In +May, with much help from her mate, she builds an exquisite little +cradle of silvery plant fibre, usually shreds of milkweed stalk, +grass, leaves, and caterpillars' silk, neatly lined with hair, +feathers, and the downy felt of fern fronds. The cradle is sometimes +placed in the crotch of an elder bush, sometimes in a willow tree; +preferably near water where insects are abundant, but often in a +terminal branch of some orchard tree. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely is it finished before the skulking cowbird watches her chance +to lay an egg in it that she may not be bothered with the care of her +own baby. She knows that the yellow warbler is a gentle, amiable, +devoted mother, who will probably work herself to death, if necessary, +rather than let the big baby cowbird starve. But she sometimes makes a +great mistake in her individual. Not all yellow warblers will permit +the outrage. They prefer to weave a new bottom to their nest, over the +<a name="57">{57}</a> cowbird's egg, although they may seal up their own speckled +treasures with it. Suppose the wicked cowbird comes back and lays +still another egg in the two-storied nest: what then? The little +Spartan yellow bird has been known to weave still another layer of +covering rather than hatch out an unwelcome, greedy interloper to +crowd and starve her own precious babies. Two and even three-storied +nests are to be found by bright-eyed boys and girls. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BLACK AND WHITE CREEPING WARBLER</h2> +<p> +You may possibly mistake this little warbler for a downy woodpecker +when first you see him creeping rapidly over the bark of trees, or +hanging from the under side of the branches. But when he flits +restlessly from twig to twig and from tree to tree without taking time +to examine spots thoroughly; especially when he calls a few thin wiry +notes—<i>zee-zee-zee-zee</i>—you may know he is no woodpecker, but a +warbler. Woodpeckers have thick set, high shouldered bodies which they +flatten against the tree trunks; the males wear red in their caps, and +all have larger, stouter bills than the warbler's. Moreover, no +woodpecker is so small as this streaked and speckled little creature +who is usually too intent <a name="58">{58}</a> on feeding to utter a single <i>zee</i>. You +could not possibly confuse him with the diligent, placid brown creeper +or with the slate-blue nuthatch which also creeps along the branches +on the under or upper side. Some children I know call this black and +white warbler the little zebra bird. Would that all warblers were so +easily identified! +</p> +<br> +<h2>OVEN-BIRD +<br><br> +<i> Called also: The Teacher; Golden-crowned Thrush; The Accentor.</i> +</h2> +<p> +"Teacher—<i>Teacher</i>—TEACHER—TEACHER—<i>TEACHER!</i>" resounds a +penetrating, accented voice from the woods. Who calls? Not an +impatient scholar, as you might suppose, but a shy little thrush-like +warbler who has no use whatever for any human being, especially at the +nesting season in May and June, when he calls most loudly and +frequently. Beginning quite softly, he gradually increases the +intensity of each pair of notes in a crescendo that seems to come from +a point much nearer than it really does. Once heard it is never +forgotten, and you can always be sure of naming at least one bird by +his voice alone. However, his really exquisite love song—a clear, +ringing, vivacious melody, uttered while the singer is fluttering, +hovering, high among the tree-tops—is rarely heard, or if heard is +not recognised as the teacher's aerial serenade. He is a warbler, let +it be recorded, who really can sing, and beautifully, however rarely. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i58.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The ovenbird who calls<br> +"Teacher, <i>Teacher</i>, TEACHER, TEACHER, <i>TEACHER!</i>" +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i59a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Ovenbird in her cleverly hidden nest. Some of the leaves and sticks +have been pulled away from the front to secure her picture. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i59b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young ovenbirds on day of leaving nest. +</p> +<br> + +<a name="59">{59}</a> + +<p> +Why is he called the oven-bird? A little girl I know was offered five +dollars by her father if she could find the bird's nest in the high +dry woods near her home. ''Teacher!'' was the commonest sound that +came from them. It rang in her ears all day, so of course she thought +it would be "too easy" to earn the money. Every afternoon, when school +was out, she tramped through the woods hour after hour, poking about +among the dead leaves, the snapping twigs, the velvety moss, the +fallen logs, the young spring growth of the little plants and +creepers, always keeping her eyes on the ground where she knew the +nest would be found. Day after day she continued the search. Every +time she saw a little hump of dead leaves or twigs and grasses her +heart bounded with hope, but on closer examination she found no nest +at all. Finally, one day when she was becoming discouraged, she spied +in the path a little brownish olive bird, about the size of an English +sparrow, but with a speckled, thrush-like breast and a dull orange +V-shaped patch, bordered by black lines, on the top of his head. He +was walking about on the ground, nodding his head as if <a name="60">{60}</a> marking +time, not hopping, sparrow-fashion; and he took very dainty, pretty +steps that suggested a French dancing master. Occasionally he would +scratch the path for insects, like a tiny chicken. Although she had +never seen the teacher, and had expected that the loud voice came from +a much larger bird, she felt sure that this must be he, so she sat +down on a log and watched and waited. Presently she saw him tug at a +fine black hair-like root that lay across the path, and, snapping it +off, quickly fly away, away—oh, where did he go with it? She ran +stumbling after him through the undergrowth to a little clearing. +There another bird, just like him, whom she instantly guessed was his +mate, flew straight toward her, dropped to the ground, ran about +distractedly, dragging one wing as if it were broken, and uttering +sharp, piteous notes of alarm. The little girl didn't like to distress +the birds, of course, but how could she resist the temptation to find +their nest? So on she tramped around and around in an ever widening +circle, the excited birds still hovering near and sharply scolding +her. You may be sure she was quite as excited as they. +</p> +<p> +At last, a little dome-shaped mound of grasses, half hidden among the +dry brown oak leaves and wild geranium, gladdened her eyes. Running +around to the opposite side she knelt down on the grass, peeped under +the arched roof <a name="61">{61}</a> and into the nest, which was shaped like an +old-fashioned Dutch oven. Was ever a sight so welcome? She almost +screamed with joy. Through the opening on one side, that was about +three inches high, she could see the lining of fine black rootlets, +just like the one she had watched the bird snap off and carry away. +Then she flew home, as if she too had wings, and, calling breathlessly +"Oh Father! Father! I've found it!" burst into the house. A week +before even one white speckled egg had been laid in the oven-bird's +nest, there was a golden half eagle in a happy little girl's palm. A +fortnight later a man with a camera took a picture of the patient +mother-bird, whose pretty striped head you see peeping out from under +the dome. +</p> +<br> +<h2>MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Black-masked Ground Warbler</i> +</h2> +<p> +This gay little warbler looks as if he were dressed for a masquerade +ball with a gray-edged black mask over his face and the sides of his +throat, a brownish green coat and a bright yellow vest. He is smaller +than a sparrow. How sharply the inquisitive fellow peers at you +through his mask whenever you pass the damp thicket, bordering the +marshy land, where he <a name="62">{62}</a> likes best to live! And how quickly he hops +from twig to twig and flies from one clump of bushes to another clump, +in restless, warbler fashion, as he leads you a dance in pursuit! Not +for a second does he stop watching you. +</p> +<p> +If you come too close, a sharp <i>pit-pit</i> or <i>chock</i> is snapped out by +the excited bird, whose familiar, oft-repeated, sprightly, waltzing +triplet has been too freely translated, he thinks, into, <i>Fol-low-me, +fol-low-me, fol-low-me</i>. Pursuit is the last thing he really desires, +and of course he issues no such invitation. What he actually says +almost always sounds to me like <i>Witchee-tee, witch-ee-tee, +witch-ee-tee</i>. You will surely hear him if you listen in his marshy +retreats. He sings almost all summer. Except when nesting he comes +into the garden, picks minute insects out of the blossoming shrubbery, +hops about on the ground, visits the raspberry tangle, and hides among +the bushes along the roadside. Only the yellow warbler, of all his +numerous tribe, is disposed to be more neighbourly. In spite of his +local name, he is to be found in winter from Georgia to Labrador and +Manitoba westward to the Plains. You see he is something of a +traveller. +</p> +<p> +The little bird who bewitches him, and to whom he sings the witch's +song, wears no black mask, so it is not easy to name her if her mate +is not about. Her plumage is duller than his and <a name="63">{63}</a> the sides of her +plump little body, which are yellowish brown, shade into grayish white +underneath. Sometimes you may catch her carrying weeds, strips of +bark, broad grasses, tendrils, reeds, and leaves for the outside of +her deep cradle, and finer grasses for its lining, to a spot on the +ground where plants and low bushes help conceal it. She does not build +so beautiful a nest as the yellow warbler, but like her she, too, poor +thing, sometimes suffers from the sneaking visits of the cowbird. +Unhappily, she is not so clever as her cousin, for she meekly consents +to hatch out the cowbird's egg and let the big, greedy interloper +crowd and worry and starve her own brood. Why does the cowardly +cowbird always choose a victim smaller than herself? +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE YELLOW-BREASTED CHAT</h2> +<p> +"Now he barks like a puppy, then quacks like a duck, then rattles like +a kingfisher, then squalls like a fox, then caws like a crow, then +mews like a cat—<i>C-r-r-r-r-r-whrr</i>—that's +it—<i>Chee-quack, cluck, yit-yit-yit-now</i>—hit +it—<i>tr-r-r-r-wheu-caw-caw-cut, cut-tea-boy-who, who-mew, +mew</i>," writes John Burroughs of this rollicking polyglot, the chat; +but not even that close student of nature could set down on <a name="64">{64}</a> paper +all the multitude of queer sounds with which the bird amuses himself. +He might be mistaken for a dozen different birds and animals in as +many minutes. +</p> +<p> +Such a secretive roysterer is he that you may rarely see him, however +often you may hear his voice when he is hidden beyond sight in partial +clearings or the bushy, briery, thickety openings in the woods. As he +seems to delight in keeping pursuers off by a natural fence of barbed +wire, the cat brier, wild blackberry, raspberry, and rose bushes are +among his favourite plants. But if you will sit down quietly near his +home, your patience will probably be rewarded by the sight of this +largest of the warblers, with olive green upper parts, a conspicuous +white line running from his bill around his eye and another along his +throat, and a bright yellow breast shading to grayish white +underneath. He is over an inch longer than the English sparrow. His +wife looks just like him. +</p> +<p> +The zany at the circus can go through no more clownish tricks than the +chat. See him, a mere bunch of feathers, dance and balance in the air, +now fluttering, now falling as if he had been shot, or turning aerial +somersaults, now rising and trailing his legs behind him like a stork, +now dropping out of sight in the thickest part of the thicket. The +instant he spies you, <i>Chut-Chut</i>, he scolds from the briars. Shy, +<a name="65">{65}</a> eccentric, absurd, but inspired with a "fine frenzy," which is a +passionate love for his mate and their nest, all his queer notes and +equally queer stunts centre about his home. On moonlight nights, +Punchinello entertains himself and Columbine with a series of +inimitable performances which have earned him the title of yellow +mockingbird. He can throw his voice so that it seems to come from +quite a different direction, as you may sometime have heard a +human ventriloquist do. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE REDSTART</h2> +<p> +When this exquisite little warbler flashes his brilliant salmon flame +and black feathers among the trees, darting hither and thither, +fluttering, spinning about in the air after insects caught chiefly on +the wing, you will surely agree that he is the most beautiful as well +as the most lively bird in the woods. The colour scheme of his clothes +suggests the Baltimore oriole's, only the flaming feathers on the +sides of his body, wings, and tail are a pinker shade of flame, and +the black ones which cover his back, throat, and upper breast, are +more glossy, with bluish reflections. Underneath he is white, tinged +with salmon. But you could not possibly mistake this lovely little +sprite for the oriole, he is so much smaller—about an inch <a name="66">{66}</a> +shorter than the sparrow. His cousin, the Blackburnian warbler, a much +rarer bird, with a colour scheme of black, white, and beautiful rich +orange, not salmon flame, can be named instantly by the large amount +of white in his tail feathers. There are so few brilliantly coloured +birds that find their way to us from the tropics, that it should not +take any boy or girl longer to learn them than it does to learn the +first multiplication table. In Cuba the redstart is known as "El +Candelita"—the little candle flame that flashes in the deep, dark, +tropical forest. +</p> +<p> +Who would believe that this small firebrand, half glowing, half +charred, whirling about through the trees, as if blown by the wind, is +a cousin of the sombre oven-bird that walks so daintily and leisurely +over the ground? The redstart keeps perpetually in motion that he may +seize gnats and other gauzy winged mouthfuls in mid-air—not as the +flycatchers do, by waiting on a fence rail or limb of a tree for a +dinner to fly past, then dashing out and seizing it, but by flitting +about constantly in search of insect prey. The bristles at the base of +his bill prevent many an insect from getting past it. He rests on the +trees only long enough to snatch a morsel, then away he goes again. No +wonder the Spaniards call all the gaily coloured, tropical wood +warblers "Mariposas"—butterflies. +</p> +<br> +<a name="67">{67}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER V +<br><br> +THE VIREOS: +<br><br> +ANOTHER STRICTLY AMERICAN FAMILY</h1> +<br> +<p class="cite"> + Red-Eyed Vireo<br> + White-Eyed Vireo<br> + Yellow-Throated Vireo<br> + Warbling Vireo +</p> +<br> +<a name="68">{68}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="69">{69}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE VIREOS</h2> +<p> +You know that if the birds should suddenly perish, there wouldn't be a +leaf, a blade of grass, or any green thing left upon the earth within +a few years—it would be uninhabitable. +</p> +<p> +When Dame Nature, the most thorough of housekeepers, gave to the birds +the task of restraining insects within bounds so that man and beast +could live, she gave the care of foliage to the vireos. It is true +that most of the warblers, and a few other birds too, hunt for their +food among the leaves, but with nothing like the vireo's painstaking +care and thoroughness. The nervous, restless warblers flit from twig +to twig without half exploring the foliage; whereas the deliberate, +methodical vireos search leisurely above and below it, cocking their +little heads so as to look up at the under side of the leaf above them +and to peck off the destroyers hidden there—bugs of many kinds and +countless little worms, caterpillars, weevils, inchworms, May beetles, +and leaf-eating beetles. Singing as they go, no birds more +successfully combine work and play. +</p> +<p> +Because they spend their lives among the foliage, the vireos are +protectively coloured; with <a name="70">{70}</a> soft grayish or olive green on their +backs, wings, and tail, whitish or yellow below. Some people call them +greenlets. They are all a little smaller than sparrows. More +inconspicuous birds it would be hard to find or more abundant, +although so commonly overlooked except by people on the look-out for +them. Where the new growth of foliage at the ends of the branches is +young and tender, many insects prefer to lay their eggs that their +babies may have the most dainty fare as soon as they are hatched. They +do not reckon upon the vireos' visits. +</p> +<p> +Toward the end of April or the first of May, these tireless gleaners +return to us from Central and South America where they have spent the +winter, which of course you know, is no winter on the other side of +the equator, but a continuation of summer for them. Competition for +food being more fierce in the tropics than it is here, millions of +birds besides the warblers and vireos travel from beyond the Isthmus +of Panama to the United States and back again every year in order that +they may live in perpetual summer with an abundance of food. If any +child thinks that birds are mere creatures of pleasure, who sing to +pass the time away, he doesn't begin to understand how hard they must +work for a living. They cannot limit their labours to an eight-hour +day. However, they keep cheerful through at least sixteen busy hours. +</p> +<a name="71">{71}</a> +<p> +<h2>THE RED-EYED VIREO</h2> +<p> +Almost everywhere in the Eastern United States and Canada, the +red-eyed vireo is the most common member of his family. The only +individual touch to his costume that helps to distinguish him is a +gray cap edged with a black line which runs parallel to his +conspicuous white eyebrow. He wears a dull olive coat and a white +vest. But listen to the Preacher! You have no need to meet him face to +face in order to know him: <i>"You see it—you know it—do you hear +me?—do you believe it?"</i> he propounds incessantly through the long +summer days, even after most other birds are silent. You cannot +mistake his voice. With a rising inflection at the end of each short, +jerky sentence, he asks a question very distinctly and sweetly, then +pauses an instant as if waiting for a reply—an unusually courteous +orator. His monotonous monologue, repeated over and over again, comes +to us from the elms and maples in the village street, the orchard and +woodland, where he keeps steadily and deliberately at work. Some boys +say they can whittle better if they whistle. Vireos seem to hunt more +thoroughly if they sing. +</p> +<p> +Like the rest of his kin, the red-eyed vireo is quite tame. A little +girl I know actually stroked the pretty head of a mother bird as she +sat brooding in her exquisite nest, and a week later <a name="72">{72}</a> carried one +of the young birds all around the garden on a rake handle. +</p> +<p> +Vireos are remarkably fine builders—among the very best. Although +their nests are not so deep as the Baltimore orioles', the shape and +weave are similar. The red-eye usually prefers to swing her cradle +from a small crotch in an oak or apple tree or sapling, and securely +lace it through the rim on to the forked twigs. Nests vary in +appearance, but you will notice that these weavers show a preference +for dried grass as a foundation into which are wrought bits of bark, +lichen, wasps' nest "paper," spider web, plant down, and curly vine +tendrils. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE WHITE-EYED VIREO</h2> +<p> +It is not often that you can get close enough to any bird to see the +white of his eyes, but the brighter olive green of this vivacious +little white-eyed vireo's upper parts, his white breast, faintly +washed with yellow on the sides, and the two yellowish white bars on +his wings help you to recognise him at a distance. Imagine my surprise +to meet him in Bermuda, over six hundred miles out at sea from the +Carolina coast, where he, too, was taking a winter vacation! In those +beautiful islands, where our familiar catbirds and cardinals also +abound, <a name="73">{73}</a> the white-eyed vireo is the most common bird to be seen. +His sweet, vigorous, irregular interrogation may be heard all day. But +there he is known by quite a different name—"Chick of the Village." +It was a pleasant shock to hear, <i>"Now, who are you, eh?"</i> piquantly +sung out at me, a stranger in the islands, by this old acquaintance in +a hibiscus bush within a few steps of the pier where the steamer +landed. +</p> +<p> +In the United States where he nests, his manners are less sociable; in +fact they are rather pert, even churlish at times, and never very +friendly. Here he loves to hide in such low, briery, bushy tangles as +the chat and catbird choose. By no stretch of the imagination would +his chic Bermuda name fit him here, for he has little to do with +villages and he resents your advances toward more intimate +acquaintance with harsh, cackling scoldings, half to himself, half to +you, until you, in turn, resent his impertinence and leave him alone— +just what the independent little fellow wanted. He has a strong, +decided character, you perceive. +</p> +<p> +His precious nest, so jealously guarded, is a deeper cup than that of +his cousin with the red eye, deeper than that of any of the other +vireos, and it usually contains three favourite materials in addition +to those generally chosen by them: they are bits of wood usually +stolen from some woodpecker's hole, shreds of paper, <a name="74">{74}</a> and yards +and yards of fine caterpillar silk, by which the nest is hung from its +slender fork in the thicket. It also contains, not infrequently, alas! +a cowbird's most unwelcome egg. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE YELLOW-THROATED VIREO</h2> +<p> +In a family not conspicuous for its fine feathers, this is certainly +the beauty. The clear lemon yellow worn at its throat spreads over its +vest; its coat is a richer and more yellowish green than the other +vireos wear, and its two white wing-bars are as conspicuous as the +white-eyed vireo's. Moreover its mellow and rich voice, like a +contralto's, is raised to a higher pitch at the end of a sweetly sung +triplet. <i>"See me; I'm here; where are you?"</i> the singer inquires over +and over again from the trees in the woodland, or perhaps in the +village when nesting duties are not engrossing. Don't mistake it for +the chat simply because its throat is yellow. +</p> +<p> +As this is the beauty of the family, so is it also the best nest +builder. +<p> +<br> +<h2>THE WARBLING VIREO</h2> +<p> +High up in the top of elms and maples that line village streets where +the red-eyed vireo loves <a name="75">{75}</a> to hunt, even among the trees of so busy +a thoroughfare as Boston Common, an almost continuous warble in the +early summer indicates that some unseen singer is hidden there; but +even if you get a glimpse of the warbling vireo you could not tell him +from his red-eyed cousin at that height. Modestly dressed, without +even a white eye-brow or wing-bars to relieve his plain dusty olive +and whitish clothes, he is the least impressive member of his +retiring, inconspicuous family. He asks you no questions in jerky, +colloquial triplets of song, so you may know by his voice at least +that he is not the red-eyed vireo. Some self-conscious birds, like the +song sparrow, mount to a conspicuous perch before they begin to sing, +as if they had to deliver a distinct number on a programme before a +waiting audience. Not so with this industrious little gleaner to whom +singing and dining seem to be a part of the same performance—one and +inseparable. He sings as he goes, snatching a bit of insect food +between warbles. +</p> +<p> +Although towns do not affright him, he really prefers wooded +border-land and clearings, especially where birch trees abound, when +it is time to rear a family. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i76a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A red-eyed vireo baby in his cradle +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i76b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Out of it +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i77.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Home of the loggerhead shrike, with plenty of convenient hooks for +this butcher bird to hang meat on. +</p> +<br> +<a name="76">{76}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER VI +<br><br> +BIRDS NOT OF A FEATHER</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Two Butcher-birds<br> + Cedar Waxwing<br> + Scarlet Tanager +</p> +<br> +<a name="77">{77}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="78">{78}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="79">{79}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE BUTCHER-BIRDS OR SHRIKES</h2> +<p> +Is it not curious that among our so-called song birds there should be +two, about the size of robins, the loggerhead and the northern shrike, +with the hawk-like habit of killing little birds and mice, and the +squirrel's and blue jay's trick of storing what they cannot eat? They +are butchers, with the thrifty custom of hanging up their meat, which +only improves in flavour and tenderness after a day or two of curing. +Then, even if storms should drive their little prey to shelter and +snow should cover the fields, they need not worry nor starve seeing an +abundance in their larder provided for the proverbial rainy day. +</p> +<p> +In the Southern and Middle States, where the smaller loggerhead shrike +is most common, some children say he looks like a mockingbird; but the +feathers on his back are surely quite a different gray, a light-bluish +ash, and pearly on his under parts, with white in his black wings and +tail which is conspicuous as he flies. His powerful head, which is +large for his size, has a heavy black line running from the end of his +mouth across his cheek, and his strong bill has a hook on the end +which is useful in tearing the <a name="80">{80}</a> flesh from his victim's bones. He +really looks like nothing but just what he is—a butcher-bird. See +him, quiet and preoccupied, perched on a telegraph pole on the lookout +for a dinner! A kingbird, or other flycatcher which chooses similar +perches, would sail off suddenly into the air if a winged insect hove +in sight, snap it up, make an aerial loop in its flight and return to +its old place. Not so the solitary, sanguinary shrike. When his +wonderfully keen eyes detect a grasshopper, a cricket, a big beetle, a +lizard, a little mouse, or a sparrow at a distance in a field, he +drops like an eagle upon the victim, seizes it with his strong beak, +and flies with steady flapping strokes of the wings, close along the +ground, straight to the nearest honey locust or spiny thorn; then +rises with a sudden upward turn into the tree to impale his prey. +Hawks, who use the same method of procuring food, have very strong +feet; their talons are of great help in holding and killing their +victims; but the shrikes, which have rather weak, sparrow-like feet, +for perching only, are really compelled in many cases to make use of +stout thorns or sharp twigs to help them quiet the struggles of their +victims. Weather-vanes, lightning rods, bare branches, or the +outermost or top branches of tall trees, high poles, and telegraph +wires, which afford a fine bird's eye-view of the surrounding hunting +ground, are favourite points <a name="81">{81}</a> of vantage for both shrikes. When it +is time to husk the corn, every farmer's boy must have seen a shrike +sitting on a fence-rail or hovering in the air ready to seize the +little meadow mice that escape from the shocks. +</p> +<p> +It is sad to record that sometimes shrikes also sneak upon their prey. +When they resort to this mean method of securing a dinner they leave +the high perches and secrete themselves in clumps of bushes in the +open field. Luring little birds within striking distance by imitating +their call notes, they pounce upon a terror-stricken sparrow before +you could say "Jack Robinson." Shrikes seem to be the only creatures +that really rejoice in the rapid increase of English sparrows. In +summer they prefer large insects, especially grasshoppers, but in +winter when they can get none, they must have the fresh meat of birds +or mice. At any season they deserve the fullest protection for the +service they do the farmer. Shrikes kill only that they themselves may +live, and not for the sake of slaughter, which is a so-called sport +reserved for man alone, who in any case, should be the last creature +to condemn them. +</p> +<p> +The loggerhead's call-notes are harsh, creaking, and unpleasant, but +at the approach of the nesting season he proves that he really can +sing, although not half as well as his cousin, the northern shrike, +who astonishes us with a fine <a name="82">{82}</a> song some morning in early spring. +Before we become familiar with it, however, the wandering minstrel is +off to the far north to nest within the arctic circle. It is only in +winter that the northern shrike visits the United States, travelling +as far south as Virginia and Kansas between October and April. He is +larger than the loggerhead, being a little over ten inches long, a +goodlooking winter visitor in a gray suit with black and white +trimmings on his wings and tail and wavy bars on his breast. Bradford +Torrey used to visit a vireo that would drink water from a teaspoon +which he held out to her while she sat brooding on her nest. I know a +lady who fed bits of raw meat to a wounded shrike from the tines of a +fork, the best substitute for a thorn she could find, because he found +it awkward to eat from a dish. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE CEDAR WAXWING +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Cedarbird; Cherry-bird; Bonnet bird, Silk-tail.</i> +</h2> +<p> +So few birds wear their head feathers crested that it is a simple +matter to name them by their top-knots alone, even if you did not see +the gray plumage of the little tufted titmouse, the dusky hue of the +crested flycatcher, the blue <a name="83">{83}</a> of the jay and the kingfisher, the +red of the cardinal, and the richly shaded grayish-brown of the cedar +waxwing, which is, perhaps, the most familiar of them all. His neat +and well-groomed plumage is fine and very silky, almost dove-like in +colouring, and although there are no gaudy features about it, few of +our birds are so exquisitely dressed. The pointed crest, which rises +and falls to express every passing emotion, and the velvety black +chin, forehead, and line running apparently through the eye, give +distinction to the head. The tail has a narrow yellow band across its +end, and on the wings are the small red spots like sealing wax that +are responsible for the bird's queer name. The waxwing is larger than +a sparrow and smaller than a robin. +</p> +<p> +But it is difficult to think of a single bird when one usually sees a +flock. Sociable to a degree, the waxwings rove about a neighbourhood +in scattered companies, large and small, to feed on the cedar or +juniper berries, choke-cherries, dog-wood and woodbine berries, elder, +haw, and other small wild fruits on which they feed very greedily; +then move on to some other place where their favourite fruit abounds. +Happily, they care very little about our cultivated fruit and rarely +touch it. A good way to invite many kinds of birds to visit one's +neighbourhood is to plant plenty of <a name="84">{84}</a> berry-bearing trees and +shrubs. The birds themselves plant most of the wild ones, by dropping +the undigested berry seeds far and wide. How could the seeds of many +species be distributed over thousands of miles of land without their +help? It will surprise you to count the number of trees about your +home that have been planted, quite unconsciously, by birds many years +before you were born. Cedarbirds are responsible for no small part of +the beauty of the lanes and hedgerows throughout their wide range from +sea to sea and from Canada to Mexico and Central America. Nature, you +see, makes her creatures work for her, whether they know they are +helping her plans or not. +</p> +<p> +When a flock of cedarbirds enters your neighbourhood, there is no +noisy warning of their coming. Gentle, refined in manners, courteous +to one another, almost silent visitors, they will sit for hours nearly +motionless in a tree while digesting a recent feast. An occasional +bird may shift his position, then, politely settling himself again +without disturbing the rest of the company, remain quiet as before. +Lisping, <i>Twee-twee-zee</i> call notes, like a hushed whispered whistle, +are the only sounds the visitors make. How different from a roving +flock of screaming, boisterous blue jays! +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i84.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The cedar waxwing +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i85.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The gorgeous scarlet tanager who sang in this tree was killed by a +sling-shot. The nest was deserted by his terrified mate. +</p> +<br> +<a name="85">{85}</a> +<p> +When rising to take wing, the squad still keeps together, flying +evenly and swiftly in close ranks on a level with the tree-tops along +a straight course; or, wheeling suddenly, the birds dive downward into +a promising, leafy, restaurant. Enormous numbers of insects are +consumed by a flock. The elm-beetle, which destroys the beauty, if not +the life, of some of our finest shade trees, would be exterminated if +there were cedarbirds enough. One flock within a week rid a New +England village of this pest that had eaten the leaves on the double +row of elms which had been the glory of its broad main street for over +a hundred years. When you see these birds in an orchard, look for +better apples there next year. Canker-worms are a <i>bon bouche</i> to +them; so are grubs and caterpillars, especially cutworms. +</p> +<p> +Sometime after all the other birds, except the tardy little goldfinch, +have nested, the waxwings give up the flocking habit and live in +pairs. Toward the end of June, when many birds are rearing the second +brood, you may see a couple begin to carry grass, shreds of bark, +twine, fine roots, catkins, moss or rags—any or all of these building +materials—to some tree, usually a fruit tree or a cedar; and then, if +you watch carefully, you will find what is not always the case with +humans—the birds' manners at home are even better than when moving in +society abroad. The devoted male brings dainties to his brooding mate +and helps her feed <a name="86">{86}</a> their family. Moreover, cedarbirds are very +good to feathered orphans. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE SCARLET TANAGER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Black-winged Redbird</i> +</h2> +<p> +People who are now living can remember when scarlet tanagers were as +common as robins. Where are they now? You see a redbird at the north +so rarely that a thrill of excitement is felt when a flash of scarlet +among the tree-tops makes the day a red-letter one on your bird +calendar. Alas! He has, what has certainly proved to be, the fatal +gift of beauty. A scarlet coat with black wings and tail, worn by a +bird larger than a sparrow, makes a shining mark among the foliage for +the shot gun and sling shot. Thousands of tanagers have been +slaughtered to be worn on the unthinking heads of vain girls and +women. Many are killed every year, during the spring and autumn +migrations, by flying against the great lighthouses along our coasts, +the birds' highway of travel. Tanagers, who are only summer visitors +from the tropics, are peculiarly susceptible to cold; a sudden change +in the weather, a drop in the thermometer some time in May just after +they have come here from a warmer <a name="87">{87}</a> climate and are still +especially sensitive, will kill off great numbers in the north woods +and in Canada. They really should postpone their journey a little +while until the weather becomes settled and there are fewer fogs on +the coast. +</p> +<p> +The male tanager, in his wedding garment, is sometimes mistaken for a +cardinal by people who only half see any object they look at. Bird +study sharpens the sight wonderfully, and teaches boys and girls the +importance of accurate observation. The cardinal, a larger bird, is +almost as large as a robin; he is a rich, deep red all over, and not a +scarlet shade. Moreover he wears a pointed crest by which you may +always know him, while the tanager, whose head is smooth, may be +certainly named by his black wings and tail. After the nesting season, +the tanager begins to moult and then he is a queer looking object +indeed in his motley coat. Only little patches and streaks of scarlet +remain here and there among the olive green feathers that gradually +replace the red ones until, in winter, he becomes completely +transformed into an olive bird with black wings, looking like his +immature sons. How tiresome to have to change his feathers again +toward spring before he can hope to woo and win a mate! +</p> +<p> +The exacting little lady bird, who demands such fine feathers, is +herself quietly clad in light olive green with a more yellowish tinge +on her <a name="88">{88}</a> lighter breast that she may be in perfect colour harmony +with the leaves she lives and nests among. If she, too, wore scarlet, +I fear the tanager tribe would have disappeared years ago. Happily her +protective colouring, which betrays no nest secrets, has saved the +species. Is it not strange that birds, who spend the rest of their +lives among the tree-tops, hunting among the foliage for insects and +small fruit, should nest so low? Sometimes they place their cradle on +a limb only six feet from the ground. It is a rather shabby, poorly +made affair which very lively tanager youngster might easily tumble +apart. <i>"Chip—churr"</i> calls the gorgeous father from the tree top, +and a reassuring reply that all is well with the nest floats up to him +from his mate. He does not often risk its safety by showing himself +near the nest, securely hidden by the foliage below. If, toward the +end of May, you hear him singing his real song, which is somewhat like +an oriole's mellow, cheery carol, you may be sure he is planning to +spend the summer in your neighbourhood. Not many miles from New York +there is a house built on the top of a hill, whose sides are covered +with oak and chestnut woods, where one may be sure to see tanagers +among the tree tops from any window at any hour of any day from May to +October. Several nests in those woods are saddled on to the horizontal +<a name="89">{89}</a> limbs of the white oak. Not many people are blessed with such +beautiful, interesting neighbours. +</p> +<p> +In the Southern States, one of the most familiar birds in the orange +groves, orchards, and woods of pine and oak, is the summer tanager, +another smooth-headed redbird, but without a black feather on him. He +is fire red all over. Of the three hundred and fifty species of +tanagers in the tropics, only two think it worth while to visit the +Eastern United States and one of these frequently suffers because he +starts too early. Suppose all should suddenly decide to come north +some spring and spend the summer with us! Our woods would be filled +with some of the most brilliant and gorgeous birds in the world. Don't +you wish all the members of the family were as adventurous as the +scarlet tanager? +</p> +<a name="90">{90}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER VII +<br><br> +THE SWALLOWS</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Purple Martin<br> + Barn Swallow<br> + Cliff Swallow<br> + Bank Swallow<br> + Tree Swallow +</p> +<br> +<a name="91">{91}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="92">{92}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="93">{93}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE SWALLOWS</h2> +<p> +If you were a bird, could you think of any way of earning a living +more delightful than sailing about in the air all day, playing +cross-tag on the wing with your companions, skimming low across the +meadows, ponds and marshes, or rising high above them and darting +hither and thither wherever you pleased, without knowing what it means +to feel tired? Swallows are as much in their element when in the air +as fish are in water; but don't imagine they are there simply for fun. +Their long, blade-like wings, which cut the air with such easy, but +powerful strokes, propel them enormous distances before they have +collected enough mosquitoes, gnats and other little gauzy-winged +insects to supply such great energy and satisfy their hunger. With +mouth widely gaping, leaving an opening in the front of their broad +heads that stretches from ear to ear, they get a tremendous draught +down their little throats, but they gather in a dinner piece-meal just +as the chimney swift, whip-poor-will and night-hawk do. Viscid saliva +in the bird's mouth glues the little victims as fast as if they were +caught on sticky fly-paper; then, when <a name="94">{94}</a> enough have been trapped +to make a pellet, the swallow swallows them in a ball, although one +swallow does not make a dinner, any more than one swallow makes a +summer. +</p> +<p> +These sociable birds delight to live in companies, even during the +nesting season when most feathered couples, however glad to flock at +other times, prefer to be alone. As soon as the young birds can take +wing, one family party unites with another, one colony with another, +until often enormous numbers assemble in the marshes in August and +September. You see them strung like beads along the telegraph wires, +perched on the fences, circling over the meadows and ponds, zigzagging +across the sky. Millions of swallows have been noted in some of these +autumnal flocks. Usually they go to sleep among the reeds and grasses +in a favourite marsh where the bands return year after year; but some +prefer trees. Comparatively little perching is done except at night, +for swallows' feet are very small and weak. +</p> +<p> +At sunrise, the birds scatter in small bands to pick up on the wing +the long continued meal, which lasts till late in the afternoon. Those +who have gone too far abroad and must travel back to the roost after +sundown shoot across the sky with incredible swiftness lest darkness +overtake them. Relying upon their speed of flight to carry them beyond +the reach of <a name="95">{95}</a> enemies, they migrate boldly by daylight instead of +at night as the timid little vireos and warblers do. During every day +the swallows are with us they must consume billions and trillions of +blood-sucking insects that would pester other animals beside +ourselves. Think of the mosquito bites alone that they prevent! Every +one of us is greatly in their debt. +</p> +<p> +Male and female swallows are dressed so nearly alike that you can +scarcely tell one from the other. Both twitter merrily but neither +really sings. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE PURPLE MARTIN</h2> +<p> +There is a picturesque old inn beside a post road in New Jersey with a +five-storied martin house set up on a pole above its quaint swinging +sign. For over thirty years a record was kept on the pole showing the +dates of the coming and going of the martins in April and September, +which did not vary by more than two or three days during all that +time. The inn-keeper locked up in his safe every night the registers +on which were entered the arrivals and departures of his human guests, +but he valued far more the record of his bird visitors which +interested everybody who stopped at his inn. +</p> +<a name="96">{96}</a> +<p> +One day, while he was away, a man who was painting a fence for him +thought he would surprise him by freshening up the old, weather-beaten +pole. Alas! He painted over every precious mark. You may be sure the +surprise recoiled upon him like a boomerang when the wrathful +inn-keeper returned. However, the martins continue to come back to +their old home year after year and rear their broods on little heaps +of leaves in every room in the house, which is the cheerful fact of +the story. +</p> +<p> +These glossy, blue-black iridescent swallows, grayish white +underneath, the largest of their graceful tribe, have always been +great favourites. Even the Indians in the Southern States used to hang +gourds for them to nest in about their camps—a practice continued by +the Negroes around their cabins to this day. Strangely enough these +birds which nested and slept in hollow trees before the coming of the +white men, were among the first to take advantage of his presence. +Now, in the Eastern United States, at least, the pampered darlings of +luxury positively refuse to live where people do not put up houses for +their comfort. In the sparsely settled West, however, they still +condescend to live in trees, but only when they must, like the +chimney-swifts, who, by the way are no relation. Plenty of people +persist in calling them chimney swallows, which is precisely what they +are not. Not even the little house wren has adapted itself so quickly +to civilised men's homes, as the swift and purple martin. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i96.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young barn swallows cradled under the rafters. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i97.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Baby barn swallows learning to walk a plank. +</p> +<br> +<a name="97">{97}</a> +<br> +<p> +Intelligent people, who are only just beginning to realise what birds +do for us and how very much more they might be induced to do, are +putting up boxes for the martins, not only near their own houses, that +the birds may rid the air of mosquitoes, but in their gardens and +orchards that incalculable numbers of injurious pests in the winged +stage may be destroyed. When martins return to us in spring from +Central and South America, where they have passed the winter, insects +are just beginning to fly, and if they can be captured then, before +they have a chance to lay their eggs, you see how much trouble and +money are saved for the farmers by their tireless allies, the +swallows. Unfortunately, purple martins are not so common at the North +as they were before the coming of those saucy little immigrants, the +English sparrows, who take possession, by fair means or by foul, of +every house that they can find. In the South, where the martins are +still very numerous, a peach grower I know has set up in his orchard +rows of poles, with a house on each, either for them or for bluebirds. +He says these bird partners are of inestimable value in keeping his +fruit trees free from insects. +</p> +<a name="98">{98}</a> +<p> +The curculio, one of the worst enemies every fruit grower has to +fight, destroying as it does millions of dollars worth of crops every +year, is practically unknown in that Georgia planter's orchard. Some +day farmers all over the United States will wake up and copy his good +idea. +</p> +<p> +A colony of martins circling about a house give it a delightful +home-like air. Their very soft, sweet conversation with one another as +they fly, sounds like rippling, musical laughter. +</p> +<br> + +<h2>THE BARN SWALLOW</h2> +<p> +Do you know where there is an old-fashioned, weather-worn barn, with +its hospitable doors standing open, where you could not find at least +one pair of barn swallows at home beneath its roof? These birds, you +will notice, prefer dilapidated old farm buildings, whose doors are +off their hinges, and whose loose shingles or broken clapboards offer +plenty of entrances and exits. If you like to play around a barn as +well as every child I know, you must be already acquainted with the +exquisite, dark steel-blue swallows with glistening reddish buff +breasts, and deeply forked tails, that dart and glide in and out of +the openings, merrily twittering as they fly. While you tumble about +in the <a name="99">{99}</a> hay among the rafters the swallows go and come, so that, +quite unconsciously, you will associate them with happy hours as long +as you live. +</p> +<p> +High up on some beam, too high for the children to reach, let us hope, +a pair of barn swallows will plaster their mud cradle. Did you ever +see them gathering pellets of wet soil in their bills at some roadside +puddle? It is, perhaps, the only time you can ever catch them with +their feet on the earth. Each mud pill must be carried to the barn and +fastened on to the rafter. Countless trips are made to the puddle +before a sufficient number of pellets are worked into the deep mud +walls of the ample nursery. Usually grass is mixed with the mud, but +some swallows make their bricks without straw. A lining of fine hay +and plenty of feathers from the chicken yard seem to be essential for +their comfort, which is a pity, because almost always chicken feathers +are infested with lice, and lice kill more young birds than we like to +think about. When there is a nestful of fledglings to feed, sticky +little pellets of insects, caught on the wing, are carried to them by +both parents from daylight to dusk. Do notice how tirelessly they +work! +</p> +<p> +In a family famous for graceful, rapid flight, the barn swallow easily +excels all his relations. The deep fork in his tail enables him to +steer <a name="100">{100}</a> himself with those marvellously quick, erratic turns, +which make his course through the air resemble forked lightning. But +with what exquisite grace he can also glide and skim across the water, +fields and meadows without an apparent movement of the wing! His +flight seems the very poetry of motion. The ease of it accounts for +the very wide distribution of barn swallows from southern Brazil in +winter to Greenland and Alaska in summer. What a journey to take twice +a year! +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE EAVE OR CLIFF SWALLOW</h2> +<p> +More than any other bird family, the swallows are becoming +increasingly dependent for shelter upon man, at least when they are +nesting; and as this is the season when they are most valuable to him +because of the enormous numbers of insects they prevent from +multiplying, let us hope that familiarity with us will never breed +contempt and cause them to return to their old, uncivilised building +sites. In the sparsely settled West, the cliff swallow still fastens +its queer, gourd-shaped, mud nest against projecting rocks, but in the +East it is so quick to take advantage of the eaves of the barns and +other out-buildings, that its old name does not apply, and we know it +here only as an eave swallow. +</p> +<a name="101">{101}</a> +<p> +The barn swallow, as we have seen, chooses to nest upon the rafters +inside the barn, but the eave swallow is content to stay outside under +the shelter of a projecting roof. In such a place you find not one, +but several or many mud tenements plastered in a row against the wall, +for eave swallows are always remarkably sociable, even at the nesting +season. A photograph of a colony I have seen shows one hundred and +fifteen nests nearly all of which touch one another. +</p> +<p> +Although so often noticed circling about barns, you may know by the +rusty patch on the lower part of his steel-blue back, the +crescent-shaped white mark on his forehead, and the notched, not +deeply forked tail, that the eave swallow is not the barn swallow, +which it otherwise resembles. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE BANK SWALLOW +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Sand Martin; Sand Swallow</i> +</h2> +<p> +Perhaps you have seen a sand bank somewhere, probably near a river or +pond, where the side of the bank was filled with holes as if a small +cannon had been trained against it as a target. In and out of the +holes fly the smallest of the swallows, with no lovely metallic blue +or glistening buff in their dull <a name="102">{102}</a> plumage, which is plain +brownish gray above, white underneath, with a grayish band across the +breast. Only their cousin, the rough-winged swallow, whose breast is +brownish gray, is so plainly dressed. +</p> +<p> +The giggling twitter of the bank swallows as they wheel and dart +through the air above you, proves that they are never too busy hunting +for a dinner to speak a cheerful word to their friends. Year after +year a colony will return to a favourite bank, whose face has been +honey-combed with such care. Think of the labour and patience required +for so small a bird to dig a tunnel two feet deep, more or less! Some +nests have been placed as far as four feet from the entrance. You are +not surprised at the big kingfisher, who also tunnels a hole in a bank +for his family, because his long, strong bill makes digging +comparatively easy; but for the small-billed, weak-footed swallow, the +work must be difficult indeed. What a pity they cannot hire moles to +make the tunnels with their strong, flat, spade-like feet. No wonder +the birds become attached to the tunnels that have cost so much +labour. When there are no longer any baby swallows on the heaps of +twigs, grass and feathers at the end of them, the birds use them as +resting places by day as well as by night until it is time to gather +in vast flocks and speed away to the tropics. +</p> +<a name="103">{103}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE TREE SWALLOW +<br><br> +<i> Called also: White-breasted Swallow</i> +</h2> +<p> +Probably this is the most abundant swallow that we have; certainly +countless numbers assemble every year in the Long Island and Jersey +marshes, perch on the telegraph wires and skim, with much circling, +above the meadows and streams in a perfect ecstasy of flight. At a +little distance the bird appears to be black above and white below, +but as he suddenly wheels past, you see that his coat is a lustrous +dark steel green. Immature birds are brownish gray. All have white +breasts. +</p> +<p> +As the tree swallows are the only members of their family who spend +the winter in the Southeastern United States, they can easily arrive +at the North some time before their relatives from the tropics +overtake them. And they are the last to leave. Myriads remain in the +vicinity of New York until the middle of October. There is plenty of +time to rear two broods, which accounts for the great size of the +flocks. By the Fourth of July the young of the first broods are off +hunting for little gauzy-winged insects over the low lands; and about +a month later the parents join their flock, bringing with them more +youngsters than you could count. They sleep every night in the +marshes, clinging to the reeds. +</p> +<a name="104">{104}</a> +<p> +Like the cliff swallow, the tree swallow is fast losing the right to +its name. It takes so kindly to the boxes we set up for martins, +bluebirds and wrens that, where sparrows do not interfere, it now +prefers them to the hollow trees, which once were its only shelter. +But some tree swallows still cling to old-fashioned ways and at least +rest in hollow trees and stumps, even if they do not nest in them. +Some day they may become as dependent upon us as the martins and, like +them, refuse to nest where boxes are not provided. +</p> +<a name="105">{105}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER VIII +<br><br> +THE SPARROW TRIBE</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Song Sparrow<br> + Swamp Sparrow<br> + Field Sparrow<br> + Vesper Sparrow<br> + English Sparrow<br> + Chipping Sparrow<br> + Tree Sparrow<br> + White-throated Sparrow<br> + Fox Sparrow<br> + Junco<br> + Snowflake<br> + Goldfinch<br> + Purple Finch<br> + Indigo Bunting<br> + Towhee<br> + Rose-breasted Grosbeak<br> + Cardinal Grosbeak<br> +</p> +<a name="106">{106}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="107">{107}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE SPARROW TRIBE</h2> +<p> +Like the poor, the sparrows are always with us. There is not a day in +the year when you cannot find at least one member of the great tribe +which comprises one-seventh of all our birds—by far the largest North +American family. What is the secret of their triumphant numbers? +</p> +<p> +Many members of the hardy, prolific clan, wearing dull brown and +gray-streaked feathers, in perfect colour harmony with the grassy, +bushy places or dusty roadsides where they live, are usually +overlooked by enemies in search of a dinner. Undoubtedly their +protective colouring has much to do with their increase. They are +small birds mostly, not one so large as a robin. +</p> +<p> +Sparrows being seed eaters chiefly, although none of the tribe +refuses insect meat in season, and all give it to their nestlings, +there is never a time when they cannot find food, even at the frozen +North where some weedy stalks project above the snow. They are not +fastidious. Fussy birds, like fussy people, have a hard time in this +world; but the whole sparrow tribe, with few exceptions, make the best +of things as they <a name="108">{108}</a> find them and readily adapt themselves to +whatever conditions they meet. How wonderfully that saucy little +gamin, the English sparrow, has adjusted himself to this new land! +</p> +<p> +Members of the more aristocratic finch and grosbeak branches of the +family, however, who wear brighter clothes, pay the penalty by +decreasing numbers as our boasted civilisation surrounds them. Gay +feathers afford a shining mark. Naturally grosbeaks prefer to live +among protective trees. They are delightful singers, and so, indeed, +are some of their plain little sparrow cousins. +</p> +<p> +All the members of the family have strong, conical bills well suited +to crush seeds, and gizzards, like a chicken's, to grind them fine. +These little grist-mills within the birds' bodies extract all the +nourishment there is from the seed. The sparrow tribe, you will +notice, do immense service by destroying the seeds of weeds, which, +but for them, would quickly overrun the farmer's fields and choke his +crops. Because these hardy gleaners can pick up a living almost +anywhere, they do not need to make very long journeys every spring and +autumn. Their migrations are comparatively short when undertaken at +all. As a rule their flight is laboured, slow, and rather heavy—just +the opposite from the wonderfully swift and graceful flight of the +swallows. +</p> +<a name="109">{109}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE SONG SPARROW</h2> +<p> +This is most children's favourite bird: is it yours? Although by no +means the belle of the family, the song sparrow is beloved throughout +its vast range if for no other reason than because it is irrepressibly +cheerful. Good spirits are contagious: every one feels better for +having a neighbour always in a good humour. Most birds mope when it +rains, or when they shed their feathers, or when the weather is cold +and dreary, or when something doesn't please them, and cultivate their +voices only when they fall in love in the happy spring-time. But you +may hear the hardy, healthful song sparrow's "merry cheer" almost +every month in the year, in fair weather or in foul, in the middle of +the night and in broad daylight, when a little mate is to be wooed +with light-hearted vivacity, when two, three, or even four broods +severely tax the singer's energy through the summer, when clothes must +be changed in August and when the cold of approaching winter drives +every other singer from the choir. The most familiar song—for this +tuneful sparrow has at least six similar but slightly different +melodies in his repertoire—begins with a full round note three times +repeated, then dashes off into a sweet, short, lively, intricate +strain that almost trips itself in its hasty utterance. Few people +<a name="110">{110}</a> whistle well enough to imitate it. Few birds can rival the +musical ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +Artlessly self-confident, not at all bashful, the song sparrow mounts +to a conspicuous perch when he sings, rather than let his efforts be +muffled by foliage. Don't mistake him for an English sparrow; notice +his distinguishing marks: the fine dark streaks on his light breast +tend to form a larger blotch in the centre. You see him singing on the +extended branch of some low tree, on the topmost twig of a bush, on a +fence, or a piazza railing from which he dives downward into the +grass, or flies straight along into the bushes, his tail working like +a pump handle as if to help his flight. Very rarely he flies upward. +Diving into a bush is one of his specialties. He best likes to live in +regions near water. +</p> +<p> +The song sparrows that come almost every day in the year among many +other birds to my piazza roof for waste canary seed and such +delicacies, show refreshing spirit in driving off the English sparrows +who, let it be recorded, can get not a morsel until the song sparrows +are abundantly satisfied. One of the latter is quite able to keep off +half a dozen of his English cousins. How does he do it? Not by his +superior size, for the measurements of both birds show that they are +about the same length although the song sparrow's slightly longer and +<a name="111">{111}</a> more graceful tail makes him appear a trifle larger. Certainly +not by any rowdy, bold assaults, which are the English bird's +specialty. But by simply assuming superiority and expressing it only +by running in a threatening attitude toward each English sparrow who +dares to alight on the roof, does he bluff him into flying away again! +There is never a fight, not even an ill-mannered scolding, just quiet +monopoly for a few minutes, then a joyous outburst of song. After that +the English sparrows may take the songster's leavings. +</p> +<br> +<h2>SWAMP SPARROW</h2> +<p> +Where rails thread their way among the rushes, and red-winged +blackbirds, marsh wrens, and Maryland yellow-throats like to live, +there listen for the <i>tweet-tweet-tweet</i> of the swamp sparrow. It is a +sweet but rather monotonous little song that he repeats over and over +again to the mate who is busy about her grassy nest in a tussock not +far away, but well hidden among the rank swamp growth. +</p> +<p> +Some children say it is difficult to tell the plain gray-breasted +swamp sparrow from the larger song sparrow with the streaked breast; +but I am sure their eyes are not so sharp as yours. +</p> +<a name="112">{112}</a> +<br> +<h2>FIELD SPARROW</h2> +<p> +While the neighbourly song sparrow and the swamp sparrow delight to be +near water, the field sparrow chooses to live in dry uplands where +stunted bushes and cedars cover the hills and overgrown old fields, +and towhees and brown thrashers keep him company. He is not fond of +human society, however, and usually flies away with wavering, +uncertain flight from bush to bush rather than submit to a close +scrutiny of his bright chestnut brown back and crown, flesh-coloured +bill, gray eyebrow, grayish throat, buffy breast and light feet. +Because his tail is a trifle longer than the chippy's he is slightly +larger than the smallest of our sparrows. Unless you notice that his +bill is not black and his head not marked with black and gray streaks +like the chippy's, you might easily mistake him for his sociable, +confiding little cousin who comes hopping to the door. +</p> +<p> +How differently he sings! Listen for him some evening after sunset +when his simple vesper hymn, clear, plaintive, sweet, rings from the +bush where he perches especially for the performance. Scarcely any two +field sparrows sing precisely alike. Most of them, however, begin with +three clear, smooth, leisurely whistles—<i>cher-wee, cher-wee, +cher-wee</i>—then hurry through the other notes—<i>cheo, +cheo-dee-dee-eee, e, e</i>—which run rapidly into a trill before they +die away. <a name="113">{113}</a> Others reverse the time and diminish the measures +toward the close. However sung, the song, which makes the uplands +tuneful all day and every day from April to August, does not vary its +quality, which is as fine as the vesper sparrow's. +</p> +<p> +Hatched in a bush, and almost never seen apart from one, this humble +little bird might well be called the bush sparrow. +</p> +<br> +<h2>VESPER SPARROW</h2> +<p> +To name this little dingy sparrow that haunts the open fields and +dusty roadsides, you must notice the white feather on each side of his +tail as he spreads it and flies before you to alight upon a fence. +Like the song sparrow, this cousin has some fine dark streaks on his +throat and breast. If you get near enough you will notice that his +wing coverts, which are a bright chestnut brown, make the rest of his +sparrow plumage look particularly pale and dull. Some people call him +the bay-winged bunting; others, the grass finch, because he nests, +like the meadow-lark and many other foolish birds, on the ground where +mice, snakes, mowing machines and cats often make sad havoc of his +young family. +</p> +<a name="114">{114}</a> +<p> +The field sparrow, as we have seen, prefers neglected old fields +overgrown with bushes, but the vesper sparrow chooses more broad, +open, breezy, grassy country. When busy picking up insects and seed on +the ground, he takes no time for singing, but keeps steadily at work, +unlike the vireos that sing between bites. With him music is a +momentous matter to which he is quite willing to devote half an hour +at a time. He usually mounts to a fence rail or a tree before +beginning the repetitions of his lovely, serene vesper which is most +likely to be heard about sunset, or at sunrise, if you are not a +sleepy-head. Like the rose-breasted grosbeak, he has the delightful +habit of singing through the early hours of the summer night. +</p> +<br> +<h2>ENGLISH SPARROW</h2> +<p> +Is there a boy or girl in America who does not already know this +saucy, keen-witted little gamin who thrives where other birds would +starve; who insists upon thrusting himself where he is not wanted, not +only in other bird's houses, but about the cornices, pillars, and +shutters of our own, where his noise and dirt drive good housekeepers +frantic; who, without any weapons but his boldness and impudence to +fight with, fears neither man nor beast, and who <a name="115">{115}</a> multiplies as +fast as the rabbit, so that he is rapidly inheriting the earth? Even +children who have never been out of the slums know at least this one +bird, this ever-present nuisance, for he chirps and chatters as +cheerfully in the reeking gutters as in the prettiest gardens; he hops +with equal calm about the horse's feet and trolley cars in crowded +city thoroughfares, as he does about flowery fields and quiet country +lanes; he will pick at the overflow from garbage pails on the sidewalk +in front of teeming tenements and manure on the city pavements with +quite as much relish as he will eat the fresh clean seed spilled by a +canary, or cake-crumbs from my lady's hand. Intense cold he endures +with cheerful fortitude and as intense mid-summer heat without losing +his astonishing vitality. Is it any wonder that a bird so readily +adaptable to all sorts of conditions should thrive like a weed and +beat his way around the world? +</p> +<p> +Now that he has gained such headway in this country his extermination +is practically impossible, since a single pair of sparrows might have +275,716,983,698 descendants in ten years! It is foolish to talk of +ridding the land of these vermin of birddom. The conditions that kept +them in check at home are lacking in this great land of freedom and so +we Americans must pay the penalty for ignorantly tampering with +nature. +</p> +<a name="116">{116}</a> +<p> +Sparrows were first imported into Brooklyn in 1851 to rid the shade +trees of inch worms. This feat they accomplished there and in New York +with neatness and despatch. Every one fed, petted, and coddled them +then. It was not until many years later that their true character came +to be thoroughly understood. Then it was found by scientific men in +Washington, after the fairest trial any culprits ever received, that +not all the insects and weed seeds they destroy compensate for the +damage they do in the farmer's grain fields, to say nothing of their +harassing and dispossessing other birds more desirable. But they kill +no birds, so we may hope that, in the course of time, our native +songsters may pluck up courage to claim their rights and hold their +own, learning from the sparrows the important lesson of adaptability. +</p> +<br> +<h2>CHIPPING SPARROW +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Chippy; Door-step Sparrow; Hair Sparrow.</i> +</h2> +<p> +This summer a pair of the sociable, friendly little chippies—the +smallest members of their clan—decided that they would build in a +little boxwood tree on the verandah of our house next to the front +door through which members of the family passed every hour of the day. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i116a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The most cheerful of bird neighbors: song sparrows. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i116b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A baby chippy and its two big rose-breasted grosbeak cousins. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i117.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A chipping sparrow family: one baby satisfied, the next nearly so, the +third still hungry. +</p> + +<a name="117">{117}</a> +<p> +While we sat within a few feet of the tree, both birds would carry +into it fine twigs and grasses for the foundation of the nest and, +later, long horse hairs which they coiled around and around to form a +lining. Where did they get so many hairs? A few might have been +switched out of the horses' tails in the stable yard or dropped on the +road, but what amazingly bright eyes the birds must have to find them, +and how curious that chippies alone, of all the feathered tribe, +should always insist upon using them to line their cradles! +</p> +<p> +From the back of a settle, the round of a rocking chair, or the gnomon +of the sun-dial near the verandah, the little chippy would trill his +wiry tremulo, like the locust's hot weather warning, while his mate +brooded over five tiny greenish-blue eggs in the boxwood tree. Before +even the robin was awake, earlier than dawn, he would start the +morning chorus with the simple little trill that answers for a song to +express every emotion throughout the long day. Both he and his mate +use a chip call note in talking to each other. +</p> +<p> +When she was tired brooding, of which she did far more than her share, +he would relieve her while she went in search of food. Very often he +would carry to the nest a cabbage worm for her or some other +refreshing delicacy. The screen door might bang beside her while she +sat <a name="118">{118}</a> close upon her treasures without causing her to do more than +flutter an eyelid. Every member of the family parted the twigs of +boxwood that enclosed the nest to look upon her pretty little +reddish-brown head with a gray stripe over the eye and a dark-brown +line running apparently through it. All of us gently stroked her from +time to time. She would occasionally leave the nest for only a minute +or two to pick up the crumbs, chickweed, and canary seed scattered for +her about the verandah floor, and showed not the slightest fear when +we went on with our regular occupations. We were the breathlessly +excited ones, while she hopped calmly about our feet. The chippy is +wonderfully tame—perhaps the tamest bird that we have. +</p> +<p> +You may be sure there was joy in the household when the nest in the +boxwood contained baby chippies one morning—not a trace of eggshells +which had been carried away early. Insects were the only approved +baby-food and we were greatly astonished to see what large ones were +thrust down the tiny, gaping throats every few minutes. Instead of +flying straight to the nest, both parents would frequently stop to +rest or get proper direction on the back or the arm of a chair where +some one was sitting. In eight days the babies began to explore the +verandah. Then they left us suddenly without <a name="119">{119}</a> a "good-bye." No +guests whom we ever had beneath our roof left a more aching void than +that chipping sparrow family. How we hope they will find their way +back to the boxwood tree from the Gulf States next April! +</p> +<br> +<h2>TREE SPARROW +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Winter Chippy</i> +</h2> +<p> +When the friendly little chippy leaves us in autumn, this similar but +larger sparrow cousin comes into the United States from the North, and +some people say they cannot tell the two birds apart or the field +sparrow from either of them. The tree sparrow, which, unlike the +chippy, has no black on his forehead, wears an indistinct black spot +on the centre of his breast where the chippy is plain gray, and the +field sparrow is buffy. The tree sparrow has a parti-coloured bill, +the upper-half black, the lower yellow with a black tip, while the +chippy has an entirely black bill, and the field sparrow a +flesh-coloured or pale-red one. Only the tree sparrow, which is larger +than either of the others, although only as large as a full grown +English sparrow, spends the winter in the Northern United States, and +by that time his confusing relatives are too far south for comparison. +It is in spring and autumn that their <a name="120">{120}</a> ranges over-lap and there +is any possibility of confusion. +</p> +<p> +When the slate-coloured juncos come from their nesting grounds far +over the Canadian border, look also for flocks of tree sparrows in +fields and door yards, where crab grass, amaranth and fox tail grass, +among other pestiferous weeds, are most abundant. I do not know how +Professor Beal of the Department of Agriculture, arrived at his +conclusions, but he estimates that in a single state—Iowa—the tree +sparrows alone destroy eight hundred and seventy-five tons of noxious +weed seeds every winter. Then how incalculably great must be our debt +to the entire sparrow tribe! +</p> +<p> +Tree sparrows welcome other winter birds to their friendly flocks that +glean a comfortable living from the weed stalks protruding from the +snow. Their cheerful, soft, jingling notes have been likened by Mr. +Chapman to "sparkling frost crystals turned to music." +</p> +<br> +<h2>WHITE-THROATED SPARROW +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Peabody-bird; Canada Sparrow</i> +</h2> +<p> +"What's in a name?" Our English cousins over the border are quite sure +they hear this sparrow sing the praises of <i>Swee-e-et Can-a-da, +Can-a-da, Can-a-da-ah,</i> while the <a name="121">{121}</a> New Englanders think the bird +distinctly says, <i>I-I-Pea-body, Pea-bod-y, Pea-bod-y-I,</i> extolling the +name of one of their first families. You may amuse yourself by fitting +whatever words you like to the well-marked metre of the clear, +high-pitched, plaintive, sweet song of twelve notes. Learn to imitate +it and you will be able to whistle up any white-throat within reach of +your voice in the Adirondacks, the White Mountains, or the deep, cool +woods of Maine, throughout the summer, although the majority of these +hardy sparrows nest on the northern side of the Canadian border. Our +hot weather they cannot abide. When there is a keen breath of frost in +the air and the hedgerows and thickets in the United States are taking +on glorious autumnal tints, listen for the white-throated migrants +conversing with sharp <i>chink</i> call-notes that sound like the ring of a +marble-cutter's chisel. +</p> +<p> +During the autumn and spring migrations, when these birds are likely +to give us the semi-annual pleasure of coming closer about our homes, +with other members of their sociable tribe, you will see that the +white-throat is a slightly larger and more distinguished bird than the +English sparrow, and that he wears a white patch above his plain, gray +breast. Except the white-crowned sparrow, who wears a black and +white-striped soldier cap on his head, <a name="122">{122}</a> and who sometimes travels +in migrating flocks with his cousins, the white-throated sparrow is +the handsomest member of his plain tribe. +</p> +<br> +<h2>FOX SPARROW</h2> +<p> +Do you imagine because he is called the fox sparrow that this bird has +four legs, or that he wears a brush instead of feathers for a tail, or +that he makes sly visits to the chicken yard after dark? When you see +his rusty, reddish-brown coat you guess that the foxy colour of it is +alone responsible for his name. His light breast is heavily streaked +and spotted with brown, somewhat like a thrush's, and as he is the +largest and reddest of the sparrows, it is not at all difficult to +identify him. +</p> +<p> +In the autumn, when the juncos come into the United States from +Canada, small flocks of their fox sparrow cousins, that have spent the +summer from the St. Lawrence region and Manitoba northward to Alaska, +may also be expected. They are often seen in the junco's company among +the damp thickets and weeds, along the roadsides and in stalky fields +bounded by woodland. The fox sparrow loves to scratch among the dead +leaves for insects trying to hide there, quite as well as if he were a +chicken or a towhee or an oven-bird who kick up the <a name="123">{123}</a> leaves and +earth rubbish after his vigorous manner. +</p> +<p> +From Virginia southward, the people know the fox sparrow only as a +winter resident. Before he leaves them in the spring, he begins to +practise the clear, rich, ringing song, which fairly startles one with +pleasure the first time it is heard. +</p> +<br> +<h2>JUNCO +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Slate-coloured Snow-bird</i> +</h2> +<p> +When the skies are leaden and the first flurries of snow warn us that +winter is near, flocks of juncos, that reflect the leaden skies on +their backs, and the grayish-white snow on their breasts, come from +the North to spend the winter. A few enter New England as early as +September, but by Thanksgiving increased numbers are foraging for +their dinner among the roadside thickets, in the furrows of ploughed +fields, on the ground near evergreens, about the barn-yard and even at +the dog's plate beyond the kitchen door. +</p> +<p> +Notice how abruptly the slate gray colour of the junco's mantle ends +in a straight line across his light breast, and how, when he flies +away, the white feathers on either side of his tail serve as signals +to his friends to follow. Such signals <a name="124">{124}</a> are especially useful +when birds are migrating; without them, many stragglers from the +flocks might get lost. Juncos, who are extremely sociable birds, +except when nesting, need help in keeping together. A crisp, frosty +<i> 'tsip</i> call note signifies alarm and away flies the flock. They are +quiet, unassuming visitors, modest in manner and in dress; but how we +should miss them from the winter landscape! +</p> +<br> +<h2>SNOWFLAKE</h2> +<p> +In the northern United States and Canada, it is the snowflake or snow +bunting, a sparrowy little bird with a great deal of white among its +rusty brown feathers that is the familiar winter visitor. Instead of +hopping, like most of its tribe, it walks over the frozen fields and +rarely perches higher than a bush or fence rail, for it comes very +near being a ground bird. Delighting in icy blasts and snow storms, +flocks of these irrepressibly cheerful little foragers fatten on a +seed diet picked up where other birds would starve. +</p> +<br> +<h2>AMERICAN GOLDFINCH +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Black-winged Yellow-bird; Thistle Bird; Lettuce Bird; +Wild Canary.</i> +</h2> +<p> +Have you a garden gay with marigolds, sunflowers, coreopsis, zinnias, +cornflowers, and <a name="125">{125}</a> gaillardias? If so, every goldfinch in your +neighbourhood knows it and hastens there to feed on the seeds of these +plants as fast as they form, so that you need expect to save none for +next spring's planting. Don't you prefer the birds when flower seeds +cost only five cents a packet? Clinging to the slender, swaying stems, +the goldfinches themselves look so like yellow flowers that you do not +suspect how many are feasting in the garden until they are startled +into flight. Then away they go, bounding along through the air, now +rising, now falling, in long aerial waves peculiar to them alone. You +can always tell a goldfinch by its wavy course through the air. Often +it accents the rise of each wave as it flies by a ripple of sweet, +twittering notes. The yellow warbler is sometimes called a wild canary +because he looks like a canary; the goldfinch has the same misleading +name applied to him because he sings like one. +</p> +<p> +But goldfinches by no means depend upon our gardens for their daily +fare. Wild lettuce, mullein, dandelion, ragweed and thistles are +special favourites. Many weed stalks suddenly blossom forth into black +and gold when a flock of finches alight for a feast in the summer +fields, or, browned by winter frost, bend beneath the weight of the +birds when they cling to them protruding through the snow. +</p> +<a name="126">{126}</a> +<p> +Usually not until July, when the early thistles furnish plenty of +fluff for nest lining, do pairs of goldfinches withdraw from flocks to +begin the serious business of raising a family. A compact, cozy, +cup-like structure of fine grass, vegetable fibre, and moss, is placed +in the crotch of a bush or tree, or sometimes in a tall, branching +thistle plant. Except the cedar wax wings, the goldfinches are the +latest nesters of all our birds. As their love-making is prolonged +through the entire summer, so is the deliciously sweet, tender, +canary-like song of the male. <i>Dear, dear, dearie,</i> you may hear him +sing to his dearest all day long. +</p> +<p> +In summer, throughout his long courtship, he wears a bright, +lemon-yellow wedding suit with black cap, wings, and tail, while his +sweetheart is dressed in a duller green or olive yellow. After the +August moult, he emerges a dingy olive-brown, sparrowy bird, in +perfect colour harmony with the wintry fields. +</p> +<br> +<h2>PURPLE FINCH +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Linnet</i> +</h2> +<p> +It would seem as if the people who named most of our birds and wild +flowers must have been colour-blind. Old rose is more nearly the +colour of this finch who looks like a brown <a name="127">{127}</a> sparrow that had +been dipped into a bath of raspberry juice and left out in the sun to +fade. But only the mature males wear this colour, which is deepest on +their head, rump, and breast. Their sons are decidedly sparrowy until +the second year and their wives look so much like the song sparrows +that you must notice their heavy, rounded bills and forked tails to +make sure they are not their cousins. A purple finch that had been +caged two years gradually turned yellow, which none of his kin in the +wild state has ever been known to do. Why? No ornithologist is wise +enough to tell us, for the colour of birds is still imperfectly +understood. +</p> +<p> +Like the goldfinches, these finches wander about in flocks. You see +them in the hemlock and spruce trees feeding on the buds at the tips +of the branches, in the orchard pecking at the blossoms on the fruit +trees, in the wheat fields with the goldfinches destroying the larvae +of the midge, or by the roadsides cracking the seeds of weeds that are +too hard to open for birds less stout of bill. When it is time to +nest, these finches prefer evergreen trees to all others, although +orchards sometimes attract them. +</p> +<p> +A sudden outbreak of spirited, warbled song in March opens the purple +finch's musical season, which is almost as long as the song sparrow's. +Subdued nearly to a humming in October, it is still a delightful +reminder of the <a name="128">{128}</a> finest voice possessed by any bird in the great +sparrow tribe. But it is when the singer is in love that the song +reaches its highest ecstasy. Then he springs into the air just as the +yellow-breasted chat, the oven-bird, and woodcock do when they go +a-wooing, and sings excitedly while mounting fifteen or twenty feet +above his mate until he drops exhausted at her side. +</p> +<br> +<h2>INDIGO BUNTING +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Indigo-bird.</i> +</h2> +<p> +Every child knows the bluebird, possibly the kingfisher and the blue +jay, too, but there is only one other bird with blue feathers, the +little indigo bunting, who is no larger than your pet canary, that you +are ever likely to meet unless you live in the Southwest where the +blue grosbeak might be your neighbour. If, by chance, you should see a +little lady indigo-bird you would probably say contemptuously: +"Another tiresome sparrow," and go on your way, not noticing the faint +glint of blue in her wings and tail. Otherwise her puzzling plumage is +decidedly sparrowy, although unstreaked. So is that of her immature +sons. But her husband will be instantly recognised because he is the +only very small bird who wears a suit of deep, rich blue with +verdigris-green reflections <a name="129">{129}</a> about the head—bluer than the +summer sky which pales where his little figure is outlined against it. +</p> +<p> +Mounting by erratic, short flights from the weedy places and bushy +tangles he hunts among to the branches of a convenient tree, singing +as he goes higher and higher, he remains for a time on a conspicuous +perch and rapidly and repeatedly sings. When almost every other bird +is moulting and moping, he warbles with the same fervour and timbre. +Possibly because he has the concert stage almost to himself in August, +he gets the credit of being a better performer than he really is. Only +the pewee and the red-eyed vireo, whom neither midday nor midsummer +heat can silence, share the stage with him then. +</p> +<br> +<h2>TOWHEE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Chewink; Ground Robin; Joree</i> +</h2> +<p> +From their hunting-ground in the blackberry tangle and bushes that +border a neighbouring wood, a family of chewinks sally forth boldly to +my piazza floor to pick up seed from the canary's cage, hemp, cracked +corn, sunflower seed, split pease, and wheat scattered about for their +especial benefit. One fellow grew bold enough to peck open a paper +bag. It is a daily happening to see at least one of the family close +<a name="130">{130}</a> to the door; or even on the window-sill. The song, the English, +the chipping, the field, and the white-throated sparrows—any one or +all of these cousins—usually hop about with the chewinks most +amicably and with no greater ease of manner; but the larger chewink +hops more energetically and precisely than any of them, like a +mechanical toy. +</p> +<p> +Heretofore I had thought of this large, vigorous bunting as a rather +shy or at least self-sufficient bird with no desire to be neighbourly. +His readiness to be friends when sure of the genuineness of the +invitation, was a delightful surprise. From late April until late +October my softly-whistled <i>towhee</i> has rarely failed to bring a +response from some pensioner, either in the woodland thicket or among +the rhododendrons next to the piazza where the seeds have been +scattered by the wind. <i>Chewink</i>, or <i>towhee</i> comes the brisk call +from wherever the busy bunting is foraging. The chickadee, +whippoorwill, phoebe and pewee also tell you their names, but this +bird announces himself by two names, so you need make no mistake. +</p> +<p> +Because he was hatched in a ground nest and loves to scratch about on +the ground for insects, making the dead leaves and earth rubbish fly +like any barnyard fowl, the towhee it often called the ground robin. +He is a little smaller than robin-redbreast. Looked down upon from +<a name="131">{131}</a> above he appears to be almost a black bird, for his upper parts, +throat and breast are very dark where his mate is brownish; but +underneath both are grayish white with patches of rusty red on their +sides, the colour resembling a robin's breast when its red has +somewhat faded toward the end of summer. The white feathers on the +towhee's short, rounded wings and on the sides of his tail are +conspicuous signals, as he flies jerkily to the nearest cover. You +could not expect a bird with such small wings to be a graceful flyer. +</p> +<p> +Rarely does he leave the ground except to sing his love-song. Then, +mounting no higher than a bush or low branch, he entrances his +sweetheart, if not the human critic, with a song to which Ernest +Thompson Seton supplies the well-fitted words: <i>Chuck-burr, pill-a +will-a-will-a.</i> +</p> +<br> +<h2>RED-BREASTED GROSBEAK</h2> +<p> +Among birds, as among humans, it is the father who lends his name to +the family, however difficult it may be to know the mother and +children by it. Who that had not studied the books would recognise +Mrs. Scarlet Tanager by her name? or Mrs. Purple Finch? or Mrs. Indigo +Bunting? or Mrs. Rose-breasted Grosbeak? <a name="132">{132}</a> The latter lady has not +a rose-coloured feather on her. She is a streaked, brown bird, +resembling an overgrown sparrow, with a thick, exaggerated finch bill +and a conspicuous, white eyebrow. When her husband wears his winter +clothes in the tropics, his feathers are said to be similar to hers, +so that even his name, then, does not fit. But when he returns to the +United States in May he is, in very truth, a rose-breasted grosbeak. +His back is as black as a chewink's; underneath he is grayish white, +and a patch of lovely, brilliant, rose colour on his breast, with wing +linings of the same shade, make him a splendidly handsome fellow. +Perhaps before you get a glimpse of the feathers that are his best +means of introduction, you may hear a thin <i>eek</i> call-note from some +tree-top, or better still, listen to the sweet, pure, mellow, joyously +warbled song, now loud and clear, now softly tender, that puts him in +the first rank of our songsters. +</p> +<p> +Few birds so conspicuously dressed risk the safety of their nests +either by singing or by being seen near it, but this gentle cavalier +not only carries food to his brooding mate but actually takes his turn +at sitting upon the pale-greenish, blue-speckled eggs. As a lover, +husband, and father he is irreproachable. +</p> +<p> +A friend who reared four orphan grosbeaks says that they left the nest +when about eleven <a name="133">{133}</a> days old. They were very tame, even +affectionate toward him, hopping over his shoulders, head, knees, and +hands without the least fear, and eating from his fingers. When only +ten weeks old the little boy grosbeaks began to warble. On being +released to pick up their own living in the garden, these pets repaid +their foster-father by eating quantities of potato-bugs, among other +pests. Some people call this grosbeak the potato-bug bird. +</p> +<br> +<h2>CARDINAL GROSBEAK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Crested Redbird: Virginia Nightingale.</i> +</h2> +<p> +It was on a cold January day in Central Park, New York, that I first +met a cardinal and was warmed by the sight. Then I supposed that he +must have escaped from a cage, for he is uncommon north of Washington. +With tail and crest erect, he was hopping about rather clumsily on the +ground near the bear's cage, and picking up bits of broken peanuts +that had missed their mark. Presently a dove-coloured bird, lightly +washed with dull red, joined him and I guessed by her crest that she +must be his mate. Therefore both birds were permanent residents in the +park and not escaped pets. Although they look as if they belonged +<a name="134">{134}</a> in the tropics, cardinals never migrate as the rose-breasted +grosbeak and so many of our fair-weather feathered friends do. That is +because they can live upon the weed seeds and the buds of trees and +bushes in winter as comfortably as upon insects in summer. It pays not +to be too particular. +</p> +<p> +In the Southern States every child knows the common cardinal and could +tell you that he is a little smaller than a robin (not half so +graceful), that he is red all over, except a small black area around +his red bill, and that he wears his head-feathers crested like the +blue jay and the titmouse. In a Bermuda garden, a shelf restaurant +nailed up in a cedar tree attracted cardinals about it every hour of +the day. If you can think of a prettier sight than that dark +evergreen, with the brilliant red birds hopping about in its branches +and the sparkling sapphire sea dashing over gray coral rocks in the +background, do ask some artist to paint it! +</p> +<p> +Few lady birds sing—an accomplishment usually given to their lover's +only, to help woo them. But the female cardinal is a charming singer +with a softer voice than her mate's—most becoming to one of her +sex—and an individual song quite different from his loud, clear +whistle. +<br> +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i135.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Cardinal. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i136.jpg" border=1> +<br> +That dusky rascal, the cowbird. +</p> +<a name="135">{135}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER IX +<br><br> +THE ILL-ASSORTED BLACKBIRD FAMILY</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Bobolink<br> + Cowbird<br> + Red-winged Blackbird<br> + Rusty Blackbird<br> + Meadowlark<br> + Orchard Oriole<br> + Baltimore Oriole<br> + Purple and Bronzed Grackles<br> +</p> +<br> +<a name="136">{136}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="137">{137}</a> +<br> +<h2>BOBOLINK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Reedbird; Ricebird; Ortolan; Maybird</i> +</h2> +<p> +Such a rollicking, jolly singer is the bobolink! On a May morning, +when buttercups spangle the fresh grasses in the meadows, he rises +from their midst into the air with the merriest frolic of a song you +ever heard. Loud, clear, strong, full of queer kinks and twists that +could not possibly be written down in our musical scale, the rippling, +reckless music seems to keep his wings in motion as well as his +throat; for when it suddenly bursts forth, up he shoots into the air +like a skylark, and paddles himself along with just the tips of his +wings while it is the "mad music" that seemingly propels him:—then he +drops with his song into the grass again. Frequently he pours out his +hilarious melody while swaying on the slender stems of the grasses, +propped by the stiff, pointed feathers of his tail. A score or more of +bobolinks rising in some open meadow all day long, are worth +travelling miles to hear. +</p> +<p> +If you were to see the mate of one of these merry minstrels apart from +him, you might easily mistake her for another of those tiresome <a name="138">{138}</a> +sparrows. A brown, streaked bird, with some buff and a few white +feathers, she shades into the colours of the ground as well as they +and covers her loose heap of twigs, leaves and grasses in the hay +field so harmoniously that few people ever find it or the clever +sitter. +</p> +<p> +As early as the Fourth of July, bobolinks begin to desert the choir, +being the first birds to leave us. Travelling southward by easy +stages, they feed on the wild rice in the marshes until, late in +August, enormous flocks reach the cultivated rice fields of South +Carolina and Georgia. +</p> +<p> +On the way, a great transformation has gradually taken place in the +male bobolink's dress. At the North he wore a black, buff and white +wedding garment, with the unique distinction of being lighter above +than below; but this he has exchanged, feather by feather, for a +striped, brown, sparrowy winter suit like his mate's and children's, +only with a little more buff about it. +</p> +<p> +In this inconspicuous dress the reedbirds, or ricebirds, as bobolinks +are usually called south of Mason and Dixon's line, descend in hordes +upon the rice plantations when the grain is in the milk, and do +several millions of dollars' worth of damage to the crop every year, +sad, sad to tell. Of course, the birds are snared, shot, poisoned. In +southern markets half <a name="139">{139}</a> a dozen of them on a skewer may be bought, +plucked and ready for the oven, for fifty cents or less. Isn't this a +tragic fate to overtake our joyous songsters? Birds that have the +misfortune to like anything planted by man, pay a terribly heavy +penalty. +</p> +<p> +Such bobolinks as escape death, leave this country by way of Florida +and continue their four thousand mile journey to southern Brazil, +where they spend the winter; yet, nothing daunted by the tragedies in +the rice fields, they dare return to us by the same route in May. By +this time the males have made another complete change of feather to go +a-courting. Most birds are content to moult once a year, just after +nursery duties have ended; some, it is true, put on a partially new +suit in the following spring, retaining only their old wing and tail +feathers; but a very few, the bobolink, goldfinch, and scarlet tanager +among them, undergo as complete a change as Harlequin. +</p> +<br> +<h2>COWBIRD</h2> +<p> +This contemptible bird every child should know if for no better reason +than to despise it. You will see it alone or in small flocks walking +about the pastures after the cattle; or, in the <a name="140">{140}</a> West, boldly +perching upon their backs to feed upon the insect parasites—a +pleasant visitor for the cows. So far, so good. +</p> +<p> +The male is a shining, greenish-black bird, smaller than a robin, with +a coffee-brown head and neck. His morals are awful, for he makes +violent love to any brownish-gray cowbird he fancies but mates with +none. What should be his song is a squeaking <i>kluck tse-e-e</i>, squeezed +out with difficulty, or a gurgle, like water being poured from a +bottle. When he goes a-wooing, he behaves ridiculously, parading with +spread wings and tail and acting as if he were violently nauseated in +the presence of the lady. Fancy a cousin of the musical bobolink +behaving so! +</p> +<p> +And nothing good can be said for the female cowbird. Shirking as she +does every motherly duty, she sneaks about the woods and thickets, +slyly watching her chance to lay an egg in the cradle of some other +bird, since she never makes a nest of her own. Thus she scatters her +prospective family throughout the neighbourhood. The yellow warbler, +who is a famous sufferer from her visits, sometimes outwits her, as we +have seen; but other warblers, less clever, the vireos, some sparrows, +and, more rarely, woodpeckers, flycatchers, orioles, thrushes and +wrens, seem to accept the unwelcome gift without a protest. If you +were a bird so imposed upon, wouldn't <a name="141">{141}</a> you peck holes in that +egg, or roll it out of your nest, or build another cradle rather than +hatch a big, greedy interloper that would smother and starve your own +babies? Probably every cowbird you see has sacrificed the lives of at +least part of a brood of valuable, insectivorous songsters. Without +the least spark of gratitude in its cold heart, a young cowbird +grafter forsakes its over-kind foster parents as soon as it can pick +up its living and remains henceforth among its own kin—of whom only +cows could think well. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Swamp Blackbird</i> +</h2> +<p> +When you are looking for the first pussy willows in the frozen +marshes, or listening to the peeping of young frogs some day in early +spring, you will, no doubt, become acquainted with this handsome +blackbird, with red and orange epaulettes on his shoulders, who has +just returned, from the South. <i>''Ke, kong-ker-ee,''</i> he flutes from +the willows and alders about the reedy meadows where he and his +bachelor friends flock together and make them ring "with social cheer +and jubilee." A little later, flocks of dingy, brown, streaked birds, +<a name="142">{142}</a> travelling northward, pause to rest in the marshes. Wholesale +courting takes place shortly after and every red-wing in a black +uniform chooses one of the plain, streaked, matter-of-fact birds for +his mate. The remainder continue their unmaidenly journey in search of +husbands, whom they find waiting in cheerful readiness in almost any +marsh. By the first of May all have settled down to home life. +</p> +<p> +Then how constant are the rich, liquid, sweet <i>o-ka-lee</i> notes of the +red-wing! Ever in foolish fear for the safety of his nest, he +advertises its whereabouts in musical headlines from the top of the +nearest tree, or circles around it on fluttering wings above the +sedges, or <i>chucks</i> at any trespasser near it until one might easily +torture him by going straight to its site. +</p> +<p> +But how short-lived is this excessive devotion to his family! In July, +the restless young birds flock with the mothers, but the now +indifferent fathers keep apart by themselves. Strange conduct for such +fussy, solicitous birds! They congregate in large numbers where the +wild rice is ripening and make short excursions to the farmers' +fields, where they destroy some grain, it is true, but so little as +compared with the quantity of injurious insects and weed seed, that +the debt is largely in the red-wings' favour. +</p> +<a name="143">{143}</a> +<br> +<h2>RUSTY BLACKBIRD +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Thrush Blackbird</i> +</h2> +<p> +This cousin of the red-wing, whom it resembles in size, flight and +notes, is a common migrant in the United States. Nesting is done +farther north. In spring, the rusty blackbirds come from the South in +pairs, already mated, whereas the red-wings and grackles travel then +in flocks. At that time the males are a uniform glossy, bluish-black, +and their mates a slate gray, darker above than below; but after the +summer moult, when they gather in small companies, both are decidedly +rusty. You might mistake them for grackles in the spring, but never +for male red-wings then with their bright epaulettes. Notice the rusty +blackbird's pale yellow eye. +</p> +<br> +<h2>MEADOWLARK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Old-field Lark; Meadow Starling</i> +</h2> +<p> +Every farmer's boy knows his father's friend, the meadowlark, the +brownish, mottled bird, larger than a robin, with a lovely yellow +breast and black crescent on it, that keeps well hidden in the grass +of the meadows or grain fields. Of course he knows, too, that it is +not really a lark, but a starling. When the shy bird takes wing, note +the white feathers on the <a name="144">{144}</a> sides of its tail to be sure it is not +the big, brownish flicker, who wears a patch of white feathers on its +lower back, conspicuous as it flies. The meadowlark has the impolite +habit of turning its back upon one as if it thought its yellow breast +too beautiful for human eyes to gaze at. It flaps and sails through +the air much like bob-white. But flying is not its specialty. It is, +however, a strong-legged, active walker, and rarely rises from the +ground unless an intruder gets very near, when away it flies, with a +nasal, sputtered alarm note, to alight upon a fence rail or other low +perch. +</p> +<p> +The tender, sweet, plaintive, flute-like whistle, +<i> Spring-o'-the-year</i>, is a deliberate song usually given from some +favourite platform—a stump, a rock, a fence or a mound, to which the +bird goes for his musical performance only. He sings on and on +delightfully, not always the same song, for he has several in his +repertoire, and charms all listeners, although he cares to please none +but his mate, that looks just like him. +</p> +<p> +She keeps well concealed among the grasses where her grassy nest is +almost impossible to find, especially if it be partly arched over at +the top. No farmer who realises what an enormous number of +grasshoppers, not to mention other destructive insects, meadowlarks +destroy, is foolish enough to let his <a name="145">{145}</a> mowing-machine pass over +their nests if he can but locate them. By the time the hay is ready +for cutting in June, the active meadowlark babies are usually running +about through grassy run-ways, but eggs of the second brood too +frequently, alas! meet a tragic end. +</p> +<br> +<h2>ORCHARD ORIOLE</h2> +<p> +Fortunately many other birds besides this oriole prefer to live in +orchards; otherwise think how many worm-eaten apples there would be! +He usually has the kingbird for company, and, strange to say, keeps on +friendly terms with that rather exclusive fellow; also the robin, the +bluebird, the cedar waxwing and several other feathered neighbours who +show a preference for fruit trees when it is time to nest. You may +know the orchard oriole's cradle by its excellent weaving. It is not a +deep, swinging pouch, like the Baltimore oriole's, but a well-rounded +cup, more like a vireo's, formed of grasses of nearly even length and +width, cut green and woven with far more skill and precision than a +basket made by a boy or a girl is apt to be. Look for it near the end +of a limb, ten to twenty feet up. It is by no means easily seen when +the green, grassy cup matches the colour of the leaves. +</p> +<p> +The mother oriole is so harmoniously dressed <a name="146">{146}</a> in grayish olive +green, more yellowish underneath, that you may scarcely notice her as +she glides among the trees; but her mate is more conspicuous, however +quietly dressed in black and reddish chestnut—even somberly dressed +as compared with his flashy orange and black cousin, the Baltimore +oriole. Nevertheless, it takes him two, or possibly three years to +attain his fine clothes. By that time his song is rich, sweet and +strong. +</p> +<p> +Do orioles generally take special delight in the music of a piano? An +orchard oriole who used to come close to our house to feed on the +basket worms dangling from a tamarix bush, returned long after the +last worm had been eaten whenever someone touched the keys. And I have +known more than one Baltimore oriole to fly about the house, joyously +singing, as if attracted and excited by the music in-doors. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BALTIMORE ORIOLE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Firebird; Golden Robin; Hang-nest; +Golden Oriole</i> +</h2> +<p> +A flash of flame among the tender young spring foliage; a rich, high, +whistled song from the blossoming cherry trees, and every child knows +that the sociable Baltimore oriole has just returned from Central +America. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i147.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The gorgeous Baltimore oriole. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i148.jpg" border=1> +<br> +How do you suppose these young Baltimore orioles ever packed +themselves into so small a nest? +</p> +<br> +<a name="147">{147}</a> +<p> +Brilliant orange and black feathers like his could no more be +concealed than the fiery little redstart's; and as if they alone were +not enough to advertise his welcome presence in the neighbourhood, he +keeps up a rich, ringing, insistent whistle that you can quickly learn +to imitate. You have often started all the roosters in your +neighbourhood to crowing, no doubt; even so you can "whistle up" the +mystified orioles, who are always disposed to live near our homes. +Although the Baltimore oriole has a Southern name, he is really more +common at the North, whereas the orchard oriole is more at home south +of New England. +</p> +<p> +Lady Baltimore, who wears a yellowish-olive dress with dusky wings and +tail, has the reputation of being one of the finest nest builders in +the world. To the end of a branch of some tall shade tree, preferably +an elm or willow, although almost any large tree on a lawn or roadside +may suit her, she carries grasses, plant fibre, string, or bits of +cloth. These she weaves and felts into a perfect bag six or seven +inches deep and lines it with finer grasses, hair and wool—a safe, +cozy, swinging cradle for her babies. +</p> +<p> +But, as you may imagine, those babies have a rather hard time when +they try to climb out of it into the world. Many a one tumbles to the +ground, unable to hold on to the tip of a <a name="148">{148}</a> swaying twig, and not +being strong enough to fly. Then what a tremendous fuss the parents +make! They cannot carry the youngster up into the tree; they are in +deadly fear of cats; they are too worried and excited to leave him +alone; but the plucky little fellow usually hops toward the tree and +with the help of his sharp claws on the rough bark, flutters his way +up to the first limb. People who have brought up broods of orphan +orioles say that they are unusually lively, interesting pets. The +little girl orioles will attempt, instinctively, to weave worsted, +string, grass, or whatever is given them to play with, for of course +they never took a lesson in weaving from their expert mother. +</p> +<br> +<h2>THE PURPLE AND THE BRONZED GRACKLES +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Crow Blackbirds</i> +</h2> +<p> +You probably know either one of our two crow blackbirds, similar in +size and habits, one with purplish, iridescent plumage, the commonest +grackle east of the Alleghenies and south of Massachusetts, and the +bronzed grackle, with brassy tints in his black plumage, who overruns +the Western country and from Massachusetts northward. <a name="149">{149}</a> Both have +uncanny, yellow eyes that make you suspect they may be witches in +disguise. Their mates are a trifle smaller and duller. +</p> +<p> +When the trees are still leafless in earliest spring and the ground is +brown and cold, flocks of blackbirds dot the bare trees or take +shelter from March winds among their favourite evergreens, or walk +solemnly about on the earth like small crows, feeding on fat white +grubs and beetles in a business-like way. They are singularly joyless +birds. A croaking, wheezy whistle, like the sound of a cart wheel that +needs axle-grease, expresses whatever pleasure they may have in life. +</p> +<p> +Always sociable, living in flocks the entire year through, it is in +autumn only that they band together in enormous numbers, and in the +West especially, do serious havoc in the cornfields. However, they do +incalculable good as insect destroyers, so the farmers must forgive +the "maize thieves." +</p> +<b>…</b> +<p> +Was ever a family so ill-assorted as the blackbird and oriole clan? +What traits are common to every member of it? Not one, that I know. +Some of the family, as you have seen, are gorgeously clad, like the +Baltimore oriole; some quite plainly, like the cowbird; and although +black seems to be a prevalent colour in the <a name="150">{150}</a> plumage, the +meadowlark, for example, is a brown bird with only a black crescent on +its breast. Most of the males are dressed quite differently from their +mates, although the female grackles are merely duller. Some of these +birds sing exquisitely; others wheeze or croak a few unmusical notes. +Some live in huge flocks; some live in couples. Some, like the +bobolinks, travel to the tropics and beyond every winter; others, like +the meadowlark, can endure the intense cold of the North. Part of the +family feed upon the ground, but the oriole branch live in the trees. +Devotion to mates and children characterise most of the family, but we +cannot overlook the cowbird that neither mates nor takes the slightest +care of its offspring. The cowbird builds no nest, while its cousin, +the Baltimore oriole, is a famous weaver. The bobolink is a +rollicking, jolly fellow; the grackle is solemn, even morose. What a +queer family! +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i151.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young orchard orioles +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i152.jpg" border=1> +<br> +"There were three crows sat on a tree" +</p> +<br> +<a name="151">{151}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER X +<br><br> +RASCALS WE MUST ADMIRE</h1> +<p class="cite"> + American Crow<br> + Blue Jay<br> + Canada Jay +</p> +<br> +<a name="152">{152}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="153">{153}</a> +<br> +<h2>AMERICAN CROW</h2> +<p> +Two close relatives there are which, like the poor, are always with +us—the crow and the blue jay. Both are mischievous rascals, +extraordinarily clever, with the most highly developed brains that any +of our birds possess. Some men of science believe that, because of +their brain power, they rightly belong at the head of the bird class +where the thrushes now stand; but who wishes to see a family of +songless rogues awarded the highest honours of the class <i>Aves?</i> +</p> +<p> +No bird is so well known to "every child," so admired by artists, so +hated by farmers, as the crow, who flaps his leisurely way above the +cornfields with a <i>caw</i> for friend and foe alike, not caring the least +for anyone's opinion of him, good or bad. Perhaps he knows his own +true worth better than the average farmer, who has persecuted him with +bounty laws, shotgun, and poison for generations. The crow keeps no +account of the immense numbers of grubs and larvae he picks up as he +walks after the plough every spring, nor does the farmer, who +nevertheless counts the corn stolen as fast as it is planted, and as +fast as it ripens, <a name="154">{154}</a> you may be very sure, and puts a price on the +robber's head. Yet he knows that corn, dipped in tar before it is put +in the ground, will be left alone to sprout. But who is clever enough +to keep the crows out of the field in autumn? +</p> +<p> +How humiliated would humans feel if they realised what these knowing +birds must think of us when we set up in our cornfields the +absurd-looking scares they so calmly ignore! Some crows I know ate +every kernel off every ear around the scare-crow in a neighbour's +field, but touched no stalk very far from it, as much as to say: "We +take your dare along with your corn, Mr. Silly. If the ox that +treadeth out his corn is entitled to his share of it, ought not we, +who saved it from grasshoppers, cutworms, May beetles and other pests, +be sharers in the profits?" Granted; but what about eating the +farmer's young chickens and turkeys as well as the eggs and babies of +little song birds? At times, it must be admitted, the crow's heart is +certainly as dark as his feathers; he is as black as he is painted, +but happily such cannibalism is apt to be rare. Strange that a bird so +tenderly devoted to his own fledglings, should be so heartless to +others'! +</p> +<p> +Toward the end of winter, you may see a pair of crows carrying sticks +and trash to the top of some tall tree in the leafless woods, <a name="155">{155}</a> +and there, in this bulky cradle, almost as bulky as a squirrel's nest, +they raise their family. Young crows may be easily tamed and they make +interesting, but very mischievous pets. It is only when crows are +nesting that they give up their social, flocking habit. +</p> +<p> +In winter, if the fields be lean, large picturesque flocks may be seen +at dawn streaking across the sky to distant beaches where they feed on +worms, refuse and small shellfish. More than one crow has been +watched, rising in the air with a clam or a mussel in his claws, +dropping it on a rock, then falling after it, as soon as the shell is +smashed, to feast upon its contents. The fish crow, a distinct +species, never found far inland, although not necessarily seen near +water, may be distinguished from our common crow by its hoarser <i>car</i>. +In some cases it joins its cousins on the beaches. With punctual +regularity at sundown, the flocks straggle back inland to go to sleep, +sometimes thousands of crows together in a single roost. Many birds +have more regular meal hours and bed-time than some children seem to +care for. Because crows eat almost anything they can find, and pick up +a good living where other birds, more finical or less clever, would +starve, they rarely need to migrate; but they are great rovers. There +is not a day in the year when you could not find a crow. +</p> +<a name="156">{156}</a> +<br> +<h2>BLUE JAY</h2> +<p> +This vivacious, dashing fellow, harsh-voiced and noisy, cannot be +overlooked; for when a brightly coloured bird, about a foot long, +roves about your neighbourhood with a troop of screaming relatives, +everybody knows it. In summer he keeps quiet, but throws off all +restraint in autumn. Hear him hammering at an acorn some frosty +morning! How vigorous his motions, how alert and independent! His +beautiful military blue, black and white feathers, and crested head, +give him distinction. +</p> +<p> +He is certainly handsome. But is his beauty only skin deep? Does it +cover, in reality, a multitude of sins? Shocking stories of murder in +the song bird's nest have branded the blue jay with quite as bad a +name as the crow's. The brains of fledglings, it has been said, are +his favourite tid-bits. But happily scientists, who have turned the +searchlight on his deeds, find that his sins have been very greatly +exaggerated. Remains of young birds were found in only two out of +nearly three hundred blue jays' stomachs analysed. Birds' eggs are +more apt to be sucked by both jays and squirrels than are the +nestlings to be eaten. Do you ever enjoy an egg for breakfast? Fruit, +grain, thin-shelled nuts, and the larger seeds of trees <a name="157">{157}</a> and +shrubs, gathered for the most part in Nature's open store-room, not in +man's, are what the jay chiefly delights in; and these he hides away, +squirrel-fashion, to provide for the rainy day. More than half of all +his food in summer consists of insects, so you see he is then quite as +useful as his cousin, the crow. +</p> +<p> +Jays are fearful teasers. How they love to chase about some poor, +blinking, bewildered owl, in the daylight! <i>Jay-jay-jay</i>, you may hear +them scream through the woods. They mimic the hawk's cry for no better +reason, perhaps, than that they may laugh at the panic into which +timid little birds are thrown at the terrifying sound. A pet jay I +knew could whistle up the stupid house-dog, who was fooled again and +again. This same jay used to carry all its beech nuts to a piazza +roof, wedge them between the shingles, and open them there with ease. +An interesting array of hair pins, matches, buttons, a thimble and a +silver spoon were raked out of his favourite cache under the eaves. +</p> +<br> +<h2>CANADA JAY +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Whiskey Jack; Moose-bird; Meat-bird</i> +</h2> +<p> +Anyone who has camped in the northern United States and over the +Canadian border knows that the crow and blue jay have a rogue for +<a name="158">{158}</a> a cousin in this sleek, bold thief, the Canada jay. He is a +fluffy, big, gray bird, without a crest, with a white throat and +forehead and black patch at the back of his neck. This rascal will +walk alone or with his gang into your tent, steal your candles, +matches, venison, and collar-buttons before your eyes, or help himself +to the fish bait while he perches on your canoe, or laugh at you with +an impudent <i>ca-ca-ca</i> from the mountain ash tree where he and his +friends are feasting on the berries; then glide to the ground to slyly +pick a trap set for mink or marten. Fortunate the trapper who, on his +return, does not find either bait gone, or game damaged. +</p> +<p> +Fearless, amazingly hardy (having been hatched in zero weather), +mischievous and clever to a maddening degree, this jay, like his +cousins, compels admiration, although we know all three to be rogues. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i158.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Blue jay on her nest. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i159a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Five little teasers get no dinner from Mamma blue jay. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i159b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Not afraid of the camera: baby blue jay out for their first airing. +</p> + +<a name="159">{159}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XI +<br><br> +THE FLYCATCHERS</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Kingbird<br> + Crested Flycatcher<br> + Phoebe<br> + Pewee<br> + Least Flycatcher +</p> +<br> +<a name="160">{160}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="161">{161}</a> +<br> +<h2>THE FLYCATCHERS</h2> +<p> +When you see a dusky bird, smaller than a robin, lighter gray +underneath than on its sooty-brown back, with a well-rounded, erect +head, set on a short, thick neck, you may safely guess it is one of +the flycatchers—another strictly American family. If the bird has a +white band across the end of its tail it is probably the fearless +kingbird. If the feathers on top of its head look as if they had been +brushed the wrong way into a pointed crest; moreover, if some chestnut +colour shows in its tail when spread, and its pearly gray breast +shades into yellow underneath, you are looking at the noisy "wild +Irishman" of birddom, the crested flycatcher. Confiding Phoebe wears +the plainest of dull clothes with a still darker, dusky crown cap, and +a line of white on her outer tail feathers. She and the plaintive wood +pewee, who has two indistinct whitish bars across her extra-long +wings, are scarcely larger than an English sparrow; while the least +flycatcher, who calls himself <i>Chebec</i>, is, as you may suppose, the +smallest member of the tribe to leave the tropics and spend the summer +with us. Male and female members of this <a name="162">{162}</a> family wear similar +clothes, fortunately for "every child" who tries to identify them. +</p> +<p> +You can tell a flycatcher at sight by the way he collects his dinner. +Perhaps he will be sitting quietly on the limb of a tree or on a fence +as if dreaming, when suddenly off he dashes into the air, clicks his +broad bill sharply over a winged insect, flutters an instant, then +wheels about and returns to his favourite perch to wait for the next +course to fly by. He may describe fifty such loops in mid-air and make +as many fatal snap-shots before his hunger is satisfied. A swallow or +a swift would keep constantly on the wing; a vireo would hunt +leisurely among the foliage; a warbler would restlessly flit about the +tree hunting for its dinner among the leaves; but the dignified, +dexterous flycatcher, like a hawk, waits patiently on his lookout for +a dinner to fly toward him. "All things come to him who waits," he +firmly believes. +</p> +<p> +None of the family is musically gifted, but all make a more or less +pleasing noise. Flycatchers are solitary, sedentary birds, never being +found in flocks; but when mated, they are devoted home lovers. +</p> +<p> +We are apt to think of tropical birds as very gaily feathered, but +certainly many that come from warmer climes to spend the summer with +us are less conspicuous than Quakers. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i162.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The dashing, great crested flycatcher. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i163.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Baby kingbirds in an apple tree. +</p> +<br> +<a name="163">{163}</a> +<br> +<h2>KINGBIRD +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Bee Martin</i> +</h2> +<p> +In spite of his scientific name, which has branded him the tyrant of +tyrants, the kingbird is by no means a bully. See him high in air in +hot pursuit of that big, black, villainous crow, who dared try to rob +his nest, darting about the rascal's head and pecking at his eyes +until he is glad to leave the neighbourhood! There seems to be an +eternal feud between them. Even the marauding hawk, that strikes +terror to every other feathered breast, will be driven off by the +plucky little kingbird. But surely a courageous home defender is no +tyrant. A kingbird doesn't like the scolding catbird for a neighbour, +or the teasing blue jay, or the meddlesome English sparrow, but he +simply gives them a wide berth. He is no Don Quixote ready to fight +from mere bravado. <i>Tyrannus tyrannus</i> is a libel. +</p> +<p> +For years he has been called the bee martin and some scientific men in +Washington determined to learn if that name, also, is deserved. So +they collected over two hundred kingbirds from different parts of the +country, examined their stomachs and found bees—mostly drones—in +only fourteen. The bird is too keen sighted and clever to snap up +knowingly a bee with a <a name="164">{164}</a> sting attached, you may be sure; but +occasionally he makes a mistake when, don't you believe, he is more +sorry for it than the beekeeper? He destroys so many robber flies—a +pest of the hives—that the intelligent apiarist, who keeps bees in +his orchard to fertilise the blossoms, always likes to see a pair of +kingbirds nesting in one of his fruit trees. The gardener welcomes the +bird that eats rose chafers; the farmer approves of him because he +catches the gadfly that torments his horses and cattle, as well as the +grasshoppers, katydids and crickets that would destroy his field crops +if left unchecked. +</p> +<p> +From a favourite lookout on a tall mullein stalk, a kingbird neighbour +of mine would detect an insect over one hundred and seventy feet away, +where no human eye could see it, dash off, snap it safely within his +bill, flutter uncertainly an instant, then return to his perch ready +to "loop the loop" again any moment. The curved clasp at the tip of +his bill and the stiff hairs at the base helped hold every insect his +prisoner. While waiting for food to fly into sight the watcher did a +good deal of calling. His harsh, chattering note, <i>ching, ching</i>, +which penetrated to a surprising distance, did not express alarm, but +rather the exultant joy of victory. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i165.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Four crested flycatchers who need to have their hair brushed. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i166a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Time for these young phoebes to leave the nest. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i166b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young phoebes on a bridge trestle. +</p> +<br> +<a name="165">{165}</a> +<p> +He and his mate were certainly frantic with fear, however, when I +climbed into their apple tree one June morning, determined to have a +peep at the five creamy-white eggs, speckled with brown and pale +lilac, that had just been laid in the nest in a crotch near the end of +a stout limb. Whirling and dashing about my head, the pair made me +lose my balance, and I tumbled ten feet or more to the ground. As the +intruder fell, they might well have exclaimed—perhaps they did—<i>"Sic +semper tyrannis!"</i> +</p> +<br> +<h2>CRESTED FLYCATCHER</h2> +<p> +Far more tyrannical than the kingbird is this "wild Irishman," as John +Burroughs calls the large flycatcher with the tousled head and harsh, +uncanny voice, who prowls around the woods and orchards startling most +feathered friends and foes with a loud, piercing exclamation that +sounds like <i>What!</i> Unlike good children, he is more often heard than +seen. +</p> +<p> +That the solitary, unpopular bird takes a mischievous delight in +scaring its enemies, you may know when I tell you that it likes better +than any other lining for its nest, a cast snake skin. Is it any +wonder that the baby flycatchers' hair stands on end? If the +great-crest cannot find the skin of a snake to coil <a name="166">{166}</a> around her +eggs, or to hang out of the nest, she may use onion skins, or oiled +paper, or even fish scales; for what was once a protective custom, +sometimes becomes degraded into a cheap imitation of the imitation in +the furnishing of her house. Into an abandoned woodpeckers' hole or a +bluebirds' cavity after the babies of these early nesters have flown, +or into some unappropriated hollow in a tree, this flycatcher carries +enough grasses, weeds and feathers to keep her nestlings cozy during +those rare days of June beloved by Lowell, but which Dr. Holmes +observed are often so rare they are raw. +</p> +<br> +<h2>PHOEBE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Bridge Pewee; Dusky Flycatcher; +Water Pewee</i> +</h2> +<p> +The first of its family to come North, as well as the last to leave us +for the winter, the phoebe appears toward the end of March to snap up +the first insects warmed into life by the spring sunshine. Grackles in +the evergreens, red-wings in the swampy meadows, bluebirds in the +orchard may assure us that summer is on the way; but the homely, +confiding phoebe, who comes close about our houses and barns, brings +the good news home to us every hour. +</p> +<a name="167">{167}</a> +<p> +<i> Pewit—phoebe, pewit—phoebe</i>, he calls continually. As he perches on +the peak of a building or other point of vantage, notice how +vigorously he wags his tail when he calls, and turns his head this way +and that, to keep an eye in all directions lest a bite should fly by +him unawares. +</p> +<p> +Presently a mate comes from somewhere south of the Carolinas where she +has passed the winter; for phoebes are more hardy than the rest of the +family and do not travel all the way to the tropics. With unfailing +accuracy she finds the region where she built her nest the previous +season or where she herself was hatched. This instinct of returned +direction is marvellous, is it not? Sometimes it is hard enough for us +humans to find the way home when not ten miles away. Did you ever get +lost? Birds almost never do. +</p> +<p> +Phoebes like a covering over their heads to protect their nests from +spring rains, so you will see a domesticated couple going about the +place like a pair of wrens, investigating niches under the piazza +roof, beams in an empty barn loft and projections under bridges and +trestles. By the middle of April a neat nest of moss and lichen, +plastered together with mud and lined with long hair or wool, if sheep +are near, is made in the vicinity of their home of the year before. +<a name="168">{168}</a> The nursery is exquisitely fashioned—one of the best pieces of +bird architecture you are likely to find. +</p> +<p> +Some over-thrifty housekeepers, nevertheless, tear down nests from +their piazzas, because the poor little phoebes are so afflicted with +lice that they are considered objectionable neighbours. Many wild +birds, like chickens, have their life-blood drawn by these minute +pests. But a thorough dusting of the phoebe's nest with Persian powder +would bring relief to the tormented birds, save their babies, perhaps, +from death and keep the piazza free from vermin. No birds enjoy a bath +in your fountain or water pan more than these tormented ones. +</p> +<p> +From purely selfish motives it pays to cultivate neighbours ever on +the lookout for flies, wasps, May beetles, click beetles, elm +destroyers and the moth of the cutworm. The first nest is usually so +infested that the phoebes either tear it down in July, and build a new +one on its site, or else make the second nest at a little distance +from the first. The parents of two broods of from four to six +ravenously hungry, insectivorous young, with an instinctive desire to +return to their old home year after year, should surely meet no +discouragement from thinking farmers' wives. +</p> +<p> +Shouldn't you think that baby phoebes, reared in nests under railroad +bridges, would <a name="169">{169}</a> be fearfully frightened whenever a train +thundered overhead? +</p> +<br> +<h2>WOOD PEWEE</h2> +<p> +When you have been wandering through the summer woods did you ever, +like Trowbridge, sit down +</p> +<p class="cite"> + "Beside the brook, irresolute,<br> + And watch a little bird in suit<br> + Of sombre olive, soft and brown,<br> + Perched in the maple branches, mute?<br> + With greenish gold its vest was fringed,<br> + Its tiny cap was ebon-tinged,<br> + With ivory pale its wings were barred,<br> + And its dark eyes were tender starred.<br> + 'Dear bird,' I said, 'what is thy name?'<br> + And thrice the mournful answer came.<br> + So faint and far, and yet so near—<br> + 'Pewee! pe-wee! peer!'" +</p> +<p> +Doubtless this demure, gentle little cousin of the noisy, aggressive, +crested flycatcher has no secret sorrow preying at its heart, but the +tender pathos of its long-drawn notes would seem to indicate that it +is rather melancholy. And it sings (in spite of the books which teach +us that the flycatchers are "songless, perching birds") from the time +of its arrival from Central America in May until only the tireless +indigo bunting and the red-eyed vireo are left in the choir in August. +</p> +<p> +But how suddenly its melancholy languor <a name="170">{170}</a> departs the instant an +insect flies within sight! With a cheerful, sudden sally in mid-air, +it snaps up the luscious bite, for it can be quite as active as any of +the family. While not so ready to be neighbourly as the phoebe, the +pewee condescends to visit our orchards and shade trees. +</p> +<p> +When nesting time comes, it looks for a partly decayed, lichen-covered +branch, and on to this saddles a compact, exquisite cradle of fine +grass, moss and shreds of bark, binding bits of lichen with spiders' +web to the outside until the sharpest of eyes are needed to tell the +stuccoed nest from the limb it rests on. Only the tiny hummingbird, +who also uses lichen as a protective and decorative device, conceals +her nest so successfully. +</p> +<br> +<h2>LEAST FLYCATCHER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Chebec</i> +</h2> +<p> +It is not until he calls out his name, <i>Chebec! Chebec!</i> in clear and +business-like tones from some tree-top that you could identify this +fluffy flycatcher, scarcely more than five inches long, whose dusky +coat and light vest offer no helpful markings. Not a single gay +feather relieves his sombre suit. Isn't this a queer, Quakerly taste +for a bird that spends half his life <a name="171">{171}</a> in the tropics among +gorgeously feathered friends? Even the plain vireos, as a family, wear +finer clothes than the dusky flycatchers. You may know that the chebec +is not one of those deliberate searchers of foliage by his sudden, +murderous sallies in mid-air. +</p> +<p> +Abundant from Pennsylvania to Quebec, the least flycatchers are too +inconspicuous to be much noticed. They haunt apple orchards chiefly at +nesting time, fortunately for the crop, and at no season secrete +themselves in shady woods as pewees do. A little chebec neighbour of +mine used to dart through the spray from the hose that played on the +lawn late every every afternoon during a drought, and sit on the +tennis net to preen his wet feathers; but he nearly put out my eyes in +his excitement and anger when I presumed on so much friendliness to +peep into his nest. +</p> +<br> +<a name="172">{172}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="173">{173}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XII +<br><br> +SOME QUEER RELATIONS</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Whip-poor-will<br> + Nighthawk<br> + Chimney Swift<br> + Ruby-throated Hummingbird +</p> +<br> +<a name="174">{174}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="175">{175}</a> +<br> +<h2>WHIP-POOR-WILL</h2> +<p> +A queer, shadowy bird, that sleeps all day in the dense wood and flies +about through open country after dark as softly as an owl, would be +difficult for any child to know were it not for the weird, snappy +triplets of notes that tell his name. Every one knows him far better +by sound than by sight. <i>Whip-poor-will (chuck) whip-poor-will (chuck) +whip-poor-will (chuck)</i> he calls rapidly for about two hours, just +after sunset or before sunrise from some low place, fluttering his +wings at each announcement of his name. But you must be near him to +hear the <i>chuck</i> at the end of each vigorous triplet; most listeners +don't know it is there. +</p> +<p> +You might be very close indeed without seeing the plump bird, about +the size of a robin, who has flattened himself lengthwise against a +lichen-covered branch until you cannot tell bird from bark. Or he may +be on a rock or an old, mossy log, where he rests serene in the +knowledge that his mottled, dull dark-brown, gray, buff, black and +white feathers blend perfectly with his resting place. He must choose +a spot broad enough to support his <a name="176">{176}</a> whole body, for, like his +cousin, the nighthawk, and his more distant relatives, the hummingbird +and the swift, his feet are too small and weak for much perching. You +never see him standing erect on a twig with his toes clasped around +it, but always squatting when at rest. +</p> +<p> +A narrow white band across his throat makes his depressed head look as +if it had been separated from his body—a queer effect that may remind +you of the Cheshire Cat in "Alice in Wonderland." The whip-poor-will's +three outer tail feathers have white ends which help to distinguish +him from the nighthawk. He has a funny little short beak, but his +large mouth stretches from ear to ear, and when he flies low above the +fields after sunset, this trap is kept open, like the swift's and the +swallow's, to catch any night-flying insects—mosquitoes, June bugs, +gnats, katydids and little moths—that cross his path. Long, +stiffened bristles at the ends of his mouth prevent the escape of a +victim past the gaping trap. On the wing the bird is exceedingly swift +and graceful. Some children mistake him for a bat or a nighthawk. +</p> +<p> +Relying upon the protective covering of her soft plumage, the mother +whip-poor-will builds no nest, but lays a pair of mottled eggs +directly on the ground in the dark woods where a carpet of dead leaves +and decayed wood makes concealment perfect. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i176.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Least flycatchers in a rose bush. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i177.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Nighthawk resting in the sunlight. +</p> +<br> +<a name="177">{177}</a> +<p> +Not even the ovenbird contrives that a peep at her eggs shall be so +difficult for us. It is next to impossible to find them. Unlike the +wicked cowbird, who builds no nest because she has no maternal +instinct, the whip-poor-will, who is a devoted mother, makes none +because none is needed. Once I happened upon two fuzzy, dark, +yellowish-gray, baby whip-poor-wills (mostly mouths) in a hollow of a +decayed, lichen-covered log, which was their "comfy" cradle; but the +frantic mother, who flopped and tumbled about on the ground around +them, whining like a puppy, sent me running away from sheer pity. +</p> +<p> +In the Southern States a somewhat larger whip-poor-will, but with the +same habits, is known as chuck-will's-widow. +</p> +<br> +<h2>NIGHTHAWK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Bull-bat; Night-jar; Mosquito-hawk</i> +</h2> +<p> +Did you ever hear a rushing, whirring, booming sound as though wind +were blowing across the bung-hole of an empty barrel? The nighthawk, +who makes it, is such a high flyer, that in the dusk of the late +afternoon or early evening, when he delights to sail abroad to get his +dinner, you cannot always see him; but as <a name="178">{178}</a> he coasts down from +the sky—not on a sled, but on his half-closed wings—with tremendous +speed, the rush of air through his stiff, long wing feathers makes an +uncanny, aeolian music that silly, superstitious people have declared +is a bad omen. You might think he would dash out his brains in such a +headlong dive through the air, but before he hits the earth, a sudden +turn saves him and off he goes unharmed, skimming above the ground and +catching insects after the whip-poor-will's manner. He lacks the +helpful bristles at the ends of his fly-trap. Don't imagine, because +of his name, that he flies about only at night. He is not so nocturnal +in his habits as the whip-poor-will. Toward the end of summer, +especially, he may be seen coursing over the open country at almost +any hour of the day. Once in a while, as he hunts, he calls <i>peent</i>—a +sharp cry that reminds you of the meadowlark's nasal call-note. +Presently, mounting upward higher and higher, at the leisurely rate of +a boy dragging his sled up hill, he seems to reach the very clouds, +when down he coasts again, faster than a boy's flexible flyer. Listen +for the booming noise of this coaster! Evidently he enjoys the sport +as much as any boy or girl, for he repeats his sky-coasting very often +without having to wait for a snow-storm. Indeed, when winter comes, he +is enjoying another summer in South <a name="179">{179}</a> America. Life without +insects would be impossible for him. +</p> +<p> +When he is coursing low above the fields, with quick, erratic, +bat-like turns, notice the white spots, almost forming a bar across +his wings, for they will help you to distinguish him from the +whip-poor-will, who carries his white signals on the outer feathers of +his tail. Both of these cousins wear the same colours, only they put +them on differently, the whip-poor-will having his chiefly mottled, +the nighthawk his chiefly barred. The latter wears a broader white +band across his throat. His mate substitutes buff for his white +decorations. +</p> +<p> +Like the mother whip-poor-will, she makes no nest but places her two +speckled treasures in some sunny spot, either on the bare ground, on a +rock, or even on the flat roof of a house. Since electric lights +attract so many insects to the streets of towns and villages, the +enterprising nighthawk often forsakes the country to rear her children +where they may enjoy the benefits of modern improvements. +</p> +<p> +Both the nighthawk and the whip-poor-will belong to the goatsucker +family. Did you ever hear a more ridiculous name? Eighty-five innocent +birds of this tribe, found in most parts of the world, have to bear it +because some careless observer may have seen one of their number +flying among a herd of goats in Europe to catch <a name="180">{180}</a> the insects on +them, just as cowbirds follow our cattle; and he imagined the bird was +actually drinking the goat's milk! +</p> +<br> +<h2>CHIMNEY SWIFT</h2> +<p> +There are some children, and grown-ups, too, who persist in calling +this bird the chimney swallow, although it is not even remotely +related to the swallow family, and its life history, as well as its +anatomy, are quite different from a swallow's, as you shall see. +</p> +<p> +Down within some unused chimney, the modern babies of this +soot-coloured, dark, grayish-brown bird first open their eyes. +Old-fashioned swifts still nest in hollow trees or caves, but chimneys +are so much more abundant and convenient, that up-to-date birds prefer +them. Without stopping in their flight, the parent swifts snap off +with their beaks or feet, little twigs at the ends of dead branches, +and these they carry, one by one, into a chimney, gluing them against +the side until they have finished an almost flat, shelf-like, lattice +cradle. Where do they get their glue? Only during the nesting season +do certain glands in their mouths flow a brownish fluid that quickly +gums and hardens when exposed to the air. After nursery duties have +ended, the gland shrinks from disuse. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i180.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A chimney swift at rest. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i181a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Hummingbird pumping food into her babies' crops. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i181b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Twin rubythroats. +</p> +<br> +<a name="181">{181}</a> +<p> +When the basket cradle has been stuck against a chimney-side, it looks +as if it were covered with a thin coat of isinglass. On this lattice +from four to six white eggs are laid. A friend, who innocently started +a fire in his library one cold, rainy mid-summer evening, was startled +and shocked when a nest and eggs suddenly fell on the hearth. He had +no idea birds were nesting in his chimney. The rush of their wings he +had thought was the wind. Of course the fire melted the glue, when +down fell the cradle. Happily there were no "babies and all" to tumble +into the flames. +</p> +<p> +When the baby swifts are old enough to climb out of the lattice, they +still cling near it for about a fortnight waiting for their wings to +grow strong, before they try to leave the chimney. Apparently they +hang themselves up to go to sleep. Shouldn't you think they would fall +on the hearth down stairs? Doubtless they would but for their short, +thin, stiff-pointed tail feathers which help to prop them up where +they cling to the rough bricks and mortar of the chimney lining. +Woodpeckers also prop themselves with their tail feathers, but against +tree trunks. Not until swifts are a month old do the lazy little +fellows climb out of their deep, dark cavern into the boundless sky, +which is their true home. No birds are more tireless, rapid flyers +than they. Their <a name="182">{182}</a> small feet, weak from disuse, could scarcely +hold them on a perch. +</p> +<p> +One day last July I picked up on the ground a young swift I thought +had dropped from exhaustion in its first flight. As swifts had been +nesting in one of the chimneys, I carried the young bird in my hand +into the house, up stairs, out through an attic window onto the roof, +climbed along the ridgepole in terror for my life, clinging by only +one free hand to the peak of the roof, and at last reached the swift's +chimney. Laying the sooty youngster on the stone chimney-cap I had +crawled cautiously backward only a few feet, when lo! my charge +suddenly bounded off into the air like a veteran to join a flock of +companions playing cross-tag. As it wheeled and darted above the +house, evidently quite as much at ease in the air as any of the merry, +twittering company, don't you believe it started the laugh on me? But +what had brought so able a young flyer to earth? My wounded vanity +tempts me to believe that it had really dropped from fatigue and, once +on the ground, was unable to rise again, whereas it was comparatively +easy to launch itself from the chimney-top. +</p> +<p> +With mouths agape from ear to ear, the swifts draw in an insect dinner +piecemeal, as they course through the air, just as the whip-poor-will, +nighthawk and swallows do. <a name="183">{183}</a> Fortunate the house where a colony +elect to live, for they rid the air of myriads of gnats and +mosquitoes, as they fly about overhead, silhouetted against the sky. +Early in the morning and late in the afternoon are their hours for +exercise. You will think, perhaps, that they look more like bats than +birds. Watch their rapid wing-beats very closely and see if you can +settle the mooted question as to whether they use both wings at once, +or first one wing and then the other in alternate strokes. After you +have noticed their peculiar, throbbing flight, you will never again +confuse them with the graceful, gliding swallows. Although the swift +is actually shorter than a sparrow, its spread wings measure over a +foot across from tip to tip. No wonder it can fly every waking moment +without feeling tired, and journey from Labrador to Central America +for a winter holiday. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD</h2> +<p> +What child does not know the hummingbird, the jewelled midget that +flashes through the garden, poises before a flower as if suspended in +the air by magic, thrusts a needle-like bill into one cup of nectar +after another, then whirs off out of sight in a trice? It is the +smallest <a name="184">{184}</a> bird we have. Suppose a fairy wished to pluck one for +her dinner, as we should pluck a chicken; how large, do you think, +would be the actual body of a hummingbird, without its feathers? Not +much, if any, larger than a big bumble-bee, I venture to guess. Yet +this atom of animation travels from Panama to Quebec or beyond, and +back again every year of its brief life, that it may live where +flowers, and the minute insects that infest them, will furnish drink +and meat the year around. So small a speck of a traveller cannot be +seen in the sky by an enemy with the sharpest of eyes. Space quickly +swallows it. A second after it has left your garden it will be out of +sight. This mite of a migrant has plenty of stay-at-home relatives in +the tropics—exquisite creatures they are—but the ruby-throat is the +only hummingbird bold enough to venture into the eastern United States +and Canada. +</p> +<p> +What tempts him so far north? You know that certain flowers depend +upon certain insect friends to carry their pollen from blossom to +blossom that they may set fertile seed; but did you know that certain +other flowers depend upon the hummingbird? Only his tongue, that may +be run out beyond his long, slender bill and turned around curves, +could reach the drops of nectar in the tips of the wild columbine's +five inverted horns of plenty. The <a name="185">{185}</a> Monarda or bee-balm, too, +hides a sweet sip in each of its red tubes for his special benefit. So +does the coral honeysuckle. There are a few other flowers that cater +to him, especially, by wearing his favourite colour, by hiding nectar +so deep that only his long tongue can drain it, and by opening in +orderly succession so that he shall fare well throughout the summer, +not have a feast one month and a famine the next. In addition to these +flowers in Nature's garden that minister to his needs, many that have +been brought from the ends of the earth to our garden plots please him +no less. The canna, nasturtium, phlox, trumpet-flower, salvia, and a +host of others, delight his eye and his palate. Don't you think it is +worth while to plant his favourites in your garden if only for the joy +of seeing him about? He is wonderfully neighbourly, coming to the +flower-beds or window-boxes with undaunted familiarity in the presence +of the family. A hummingbird that lived in my garden sipped from a +sprig of honeysuckle that I held in my hand. But the bird is not +always so amiable by any means. A fierce duelist, he will lunge his +rapier-like bill at another hummer with deadly thrusts. A battle of +the midgets in mid-air is a sorry sight. You may know a male by the +brilliant metallic-red feathers on his throat. His mate lacks these, +but her brilliancy has another <a name="186">{186}</a> outlet, for she is one of the +most expert nest-builders in the world. An exquisitely dainty little +cup of plant down, felted into a compact cradle and stuccoed with bits +of lichen bound on by spider-web, can scarcely be told from a knot on +the limb to which it is fastened. Two eggs, not larger than beans, in +time give place to two downy hummers about the size of honey-bees. +Perhaps you have seen pigeons pump food down the throats of their +squabs? In this same way are baby hummingbirds fed. After about three +weeks in the nest, the young are ready to fly; but they rest on +perches the first month of their independence more than at any time +afterward. No weak-footed relative of the swift could live long off +the wing. It is goodbye to summer when the last hummingbird forsakes +our frost-nipped, northern gardens for happier hunting grounds far +away. +</p> +<a name="187">{187}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XIII +<br><br> +NON-UNION CARPENTERS</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Downy Woodpecker<br> + Hairy Woodpecker<br> + Yellow-bellied Sapsucker<br> + Red-headed Woodpecker<br> + Flicker +</p> +<br> +<a name="188">{188}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="189">{189}</a> +<br> +<h2>OUR FIVE COMMON WOODPECKERS</h2> +<p> +If, as you walk through some old orchard or along the borders of a +woodland tangle, you see a high-shouldered, stocky bird clinging fast +to the side of a tree "as if he had been thrown at it and stuck," you +may be very sure he is a woodpecker. Four of our five common, +non-union carpenters wear striking black and white suits, patched or +striped, the males with red on their heads, their wives with less of +this jaunty touch of colour perhaps, or none, but wearing otherwise +similar clothes. Only the dainty little black and white creeping +warbler could possibly be confused with the smallest of these sturdy, +matter-of-fact artisans, although, as you know, chickadees, titmice, +nuthatches and kinglets also haunt the bark of trees; but the largest +of these is smaller than downy, the smallest of the woodpeckers. One +of the carpenters, the big flicker, an original fellow, is dressed in +soft browns, yellow, white and black, with the characteristic red +patch across the back of his neck. +</p> +<p> +It is easy to tell a woodpecker at sight or even beyond it, when you +see or hear him hammering for a dinner, or drumming a love song, <a name="190">{190}</a> +or chiseling out a home in some partly decayed tree. How cheerfully +his vigorous taps resound! Hammer, chisel, pick, drill, and drum—all +these instruments in one stout bill—and a flexible barbed spear for a +tongue that may be run out far beyond his bill, like the +hummingbird's, make the woodpecker the best-equipped workman in the +woods. All the other birds that pick insect eggs, grubs, beetles and +spiders from the bark could go all over a tree and feast, but the +woodpecker might follow them and still find plenty left, borers +especially, hidden so deep that only his sticky, barbed tongue could +drag them out. +</p> +<p> +As you see his body flattened against the tree's side perhaps you +wonder why he doesn't fall off. Do you remember why the swifts, that +sleep against the inside walls of our chimneys, do not fall down to +the hearths below? Like them and the bobolink, the woodpeckers prop +themselves by their outspread, stiffened tails. Moreover, they have +their toes arranged in a curious way—two in front and two behind, so +that they can hold on to a section of bark very much as an iceman +holds a piece of ice between his tongs. Smooth bark conceals no larvae +nor does it offer a foothold, which is why you are likely to see +woodpeckers only on the trunks or the larger limbs of trees where old, +scaly bark grows. +</p> +<a name="191">{191}</a> +<br> +<h2>DOWNY WOODPECKER</h2> +<p> +A hardy little friend is the downy woodpecker who, like the chickadee, +stays by us the year around. Probably no other two birds are so useful +in our orchards as these, that keep up a tireless search for the +insect robbers of our fruit. Wintry weather can be scarcely too severe +for either, for both wear a warm coat of fat under their skins and +both have the comfort of a snug retreat when bitter blasts blow. +</p> +<p> +Friend downy is too good a carpenter, you may be sure, to neglect +making a cozy cavity for himself in autumn, just as the hairy +woodpecker does. The chickadee, titmouse, nuthatch, bluebird, wren, +tree swallow, sparrow hawk, crested flycatcher and owls, are not the +only birds that are thankful to occupy his snug quarters in some old +tree after he has moved out in the spring to the new nursery that his +mate and he make for their family. He knows the advantage of a +southern exposure for his hollow home and chisels his winter quarters +deep enough to escape a draught. Here he lives in single +blessedness—or selfishness?—with no thought now for the comfort of +his mate, who, happily, is quite as good a carpenter as he, and as +able to care for herself. She may make a winter home or keep the +nursery. +</p> +<a name="192">{192}</a> +<p> +Very early in the spring you will hear the downy, like the other +woodpeckers, beating a rolling tattoo on some resonant limb, and if +you can creep close enough you will see his head hammering so fast +that there is only a blur above his shoulders. This drumming is his +love song. The grouse is even a more wonderful performer, for he drums +without a drum, which no woodpecker can do. The woodpecker drums not +only to win a mate, however, but to tell where a tree is decayed and +likely to be an easy spot to chisel, and also to startle borers +beneath the bark, that he may know just where to tunnel for them, when +they move with a faint noise, which his sharp ears instantly detect. +</p> +<p> +This master workman, who is scarcely larger than an English sparrow, +occasionally pauses in his hammering long enough to utter a short, +sharp <i>peek, peek</i>, often continued into a rattling cry that ends as +abruptly as it began. You may know him from his larger and +louder-voiced cousin, the hairy woodpecker, not only by this call +note, but by the markings of the outer tail feathers, which, in the +downy, are white barred with black; and in the hairy, are white +without the black bars. Both birds are much striped and barred with +black and white. +</p> +<p> +When the weather grows cold, hang a bone with a little meat on it, +cooked or raw, or a lump of suet in some tree beyond the reach of +cats; then watch for the downy woodpecker's and the chickadee's visits +to your free-lunch counter. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i192.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Our little friend downy. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i193.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The red-headed woodpecker. +</p> +<br> +<a name="193">{193}</a> +<br> +<h2>HAIRY WOODPECKER</h2> +<p> +Light woods, with plenty of old trees in them, suit this busy +carpenter better than orchards or trees close to our homes, for he is +more shy than his sociable little cousin, downy, whom he as closely +resembles in feathers as in habits. He is three inches longer, +however, yet smaller than a robin. In spite of his name, he is covered +with black and white feathers, not hairs. He has a hairy stripe only +down the middle of his broadly striped back. +</p> +<p> +After he and his mate have decided to go to housekeeping, they select +a tree—a hollow-hearted or partly decayed one is preferred—and begin +the hard work of cutting out a deep cavity. Try to draw freehand a +circle by making a series of dots, as the woodpecker outlines his +round front door, and see, if you please, whether you can make so +perfect a ring. Downy's entrance need be only an inch and a half +across; the hairy's must be a little larger, and the flicker requires +a hole about four inches in diameter to admit his big body. Both mates +work in turn at the nest hole. How the chips fly! Braced in position +by stiff tail feathers and <a name="194">{194}</a> clinging by his stout toes, the +woodpecker keeps hammering and chiseling at his home more hours every +day than a labour union would allow. Two inches of digging with his +strong combination tool means a hard day's work. The hole usually runs +straight in for a few inches, then curves downward into a pear-shaped +chamber large enough for a comfortable nursery. A week or ten days may +be spent by a couple in making it. The chips by which this good +workman is known are left on the nursery floor, for woodpeckers do not +pamper their babies with fine grasses, feathers or fur cradle linings, +as the chickadee and some other birds do. A well-regulated +woodpecker's nest contains five glossy-white eggs. +</p> +<p> +Sheltered from the rain, wind and sun, hidden from almost every enemy +except the red squirrel, woodpecker babies lie secure in their dark, +warm nursery, with no excitement except the visits of their parents +with a fat grub. Then how quickly they scramble up the walls toward +the light and dinner! +</p> +<br> +<h2>YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER</h2> +<p> +This woodpecker I am sorry to introduce to you as the black sheep of +his family, with scarcely a friend to speak a good word for him. <a name="195">{195}</a> +Murder is committed on his immensely useful relatives, who have the +misfortune to look ever so little like him, simply because ignorant +people's minds are firmly fixed in the belief that every woodpecker is +a sapsucker, therefore a tree-killer, which only this miscreant is, +and very rarely. The rest of the family who drill holes in a tree +harmlessly, even beneficially, do so because they are probing for +insects. The sapsucker alone drills rings or belts of holes for the +sake of getting at the soft inner bark and drinking the sap that +trickles from it. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Eckstorm, who has made a careful study of the woodpeckers in a +charming little book that every child should read, tells of a certain +sapsucker that came silently and early in the autumn mornings to feed +on a favourite mountain ash tree near her dining-room window. In time +this rascal killed the tree. "Early in the day he showed considerable +activity," writes Mrs. Eckstorm, "flitting from limb to limb and +sinking a few holes, three or four in a row, usually above the +previous upper girdle of the limbs he selected to work upon. After he +had tapped several limbs, he would sit patiently waiting for the sap +to flow, lapping it up quickly when the drop was large enough. At +first he would be nervous, taking alarm at noises and wheeling away on +his broad wings till his fright was over, when he would steal quietly +back to his <a name="196">{196}</a> sapholes. When not alarmed, his only movement was +from one row of holes to another, and he tended them with considerable +regularity. As the day wore on he became less excitable, and clung +cloddishly to his tree trunk with ever increasing torpidity, until +finally he hung motionless as if intoxicated, tippling in sap, a +disheveled, smutty, silent bird, stupefied with drink, with none of +that brilliancy of plumage and light-hearted gaiety which made him the +noisiest and most conspicuous bird of our April woods." +</p> +<p> +But it must be admitted that very rarely does the sapsucker girdle a +tree with holes enough to sap away its life. He may have an orgie of +intemperance once in awhile, but much should be forgiven a bird as +dexterous as a flycatcher in taking insects on the wing and with a +hearty appetite for pests. Wild fruit and soft-shelled nuts he likes +too. He never bores a tree to get insects as his cousins do, for only +when a nest must be chiseled out is he a wood <i>pecker</i> in the strict +sense. +</p> +<p> +You may know this erring one by the pale, sulphur-yellow tinge on his +white under parts, the white patch above the tail on his mottled black +and white back, his spotted wings with conspicuous white coverts, the +broad black patch on his breast extending to the corners of his mouth +in a chin strap, and the lines of crimson <a name="197">{197}</a> on forehead, crown, +chin and throat. He is smaller than a robin by two inches, yet larger +than the English sparrow, who shares with him a vast amount of public +condemnation. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RED-HEADED WOODPECKER</h2> +<p> +A pair of red-headed woodpeckers I know, who made their home in an old +tree next to the station yard at Atlanta, where locomotives clanged, +puffed, whistled and shrieked all day long, evidently enjoyed the +noise, for the male liked nothing better than to add to it by tapping +on one of the glass non-conductors around which a telegraph wire ran. +When first I saw the handsome, tri-coloured fellow he was almost +enveloped in a cloud of smoke escaping from a puffing locomotive on +the track next the telegraph pole, yet he tapped away unconcerned and +as merrily as you would play a two-step on the piano. When the vapour +blew away, his glossy bluish black and white feathers, laid on in big +patches, were almost as conspicuous as his red head, throat and upper +breast. His mate is red-headed, too. +</p> +<p> +All the woodpeckers have musical tastes. A flicker comes to my +verandah to tap a galvanised rain gutter, for no other reason than the +excellent one that he enjoys the sound. Tin <a name="198">{198}</a> roofs everywhere are +popular tapping places. Certain dry, dead, seasoned limbs of hardwood +trees resound better than others and a woodpecker in love is sure to +find out the best one in the spring when he beats a rolling tattoo in +the hope of charming his best beloved. He has no need to sing, which +is why he doesn't. +</p> +<p> +Fence posts are the red-head's favourite resting places. From these he +will make sudden sallies in mid-air, like a fly-catcher, after a +passing insect; then return to his post. +</p> +<p> +You remember that the blue jay has the thrifty habit of storing nuts +for the proverbial rainy day, and that the shrike hangs up his meat to +cure on a thorn tree like a butcher. Red-headed woodpeckers, who are +especially fond of beechnuts, acorns and grasshoppers, hide them away, +squirrel fashion, in tree cavities, in fence holes, crevices in old +barns, between shingles on the roof, behind bulging boards, in the +ends of railroad ties, in all sorts of queer places, to feast upon +them in winter when the land is lean. Who knows whether other +woodpeckers have hoarding places? The sapsucker, the hairy and the +downy woodpeckers also like beechnuts; the flicker prefers acorns; but +do they store them for winter use? The red-head's thrifty habit was +only recently discovered: has it been only recently acquired? +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i198.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The sapsucker. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i199.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Baby flickers just out of their hole. +</p> +<br> +<a name="199">{199}</a> +<p> +It must be simpler to store the summer's surplus than to travel to a +land of plenty when winter comes. Heretofore this red-headed cousin +has been reckoned a migratory member of the home-loving woodpecker +clan, but only where he could not find plenty of beechnuts to keep him +through the winter. +</p> +<br> +<h2>FLICKER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: High-hole; Clape; Golden-winged +Woodpecker; Yellow-hammer; Yucker.</i> +</h2> +<p> +Why should the flicker discard family traditions and wear clothes so +different from those of his relations? His upper parts are dusty +brown, narrowly barred with black, and the large white patch on his +lower back, so conspicuous as he flies from you, is one of the best +marks of identification on his big handsome body. His head is gray +with a black streak below the eye, and a scarlet band across the nape +of the neck, while the upper side of the wing feathers is black +relieved by golden shafts. Underneath, the wings are a lovely golden +yellow, seen only when the bird flies toward you. His breast, which is +a pale, pinkish brown, is divided from the throat by a black crescent, +smaller than the meadowlark's, and below this half-moon of jet there +are many black spots. <a name="200">{200}</a> He is quite a little larger than a robin, +the largest and the commonest of our five non-union carpenters. +</p> +<p> +See him feeding on the ground instead of on the striped and mottled +tree trunks, where his black and white striped relatives are usually +found, and you will realise that he wears brown clothes, finely +barred, because they harmonise so perfectly with the brown earth. What +does he find on the ground that keeps him there so much of the time? +Look at the spot he has just flown from and you will doubtless find +ants. These are chiefly his diet. Three thousand of them, for a single +meal, he has been known to lick out of a hill with his long, round, +extensile, sticky tongue. Evidently this lusty fellow needs no tonic. +His tail, which is less rounded than his cousins', proves that he has +little need to prop himself against tree trunks to pick out a dinner; +and his curved bill, which is more of a pickaxe than a hammer, drill, +or chisel, is little used as a carpenter's tool except when a nest is +to be dug out of soft, decayed wood. Although he can beat a rolling +tattoo in the spring, he has a variety of call notes for use the year +through. Did you ever see the funny fellow spread his tail and dance +when he goes courting? Flickers condescend to use old holes deserted +by their relatives who possess better tools. You must have noticed +<a name="201">{201}</a> all through these bird biographies that the structure and +colouring of every bird are adapted to its kind of life, each member +of the same family varying according to its habits. The kind of food a +bird eats and its method of getting it, of course, bring about most, +if not all, of the variations from the family type. Each is fitted for +its own life, "even as you and I." +</p> +<p> +Like your pet pigeon, the hummingbird, and several other birds, parent +flickers pump partly digested food from their own stomachs into those +of their hungry babies. Imagine how many trips would have to be taken +to a nest if ants were carried there one by one! How can the birds be +sure they will not thrust their bills through the eyes of their blind, +naked and helpless babies in so dark a hole? It must be very difficult +to find the mouths and be sure none is neglected. Like the little pig +you all know about, I suspect there is always at least one little +flicker in the dark tree-hollow that "gets none" each trip. +</p> +<br> +<a name="202">{202}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="203">{203}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XIV +<br><br> +CUCKOO AND KINGFISHER</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Yellow-billed Cuckoo<br> + Black-billed Cuckoo<br> + Belted Kingfisher +</p> +<br> +<a name="204">{204}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="205">{205}</a> +<br> +<h2>YELLOW-BILLED CUCKOO +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Rain Crow</i> +</h2> +<p> +Do you own a cuckoo clock with a little bird inside that flies out of +a door every hour and tells you the time? Except when it is time to go +to school or to bed you are doubtless amused to hear him hiccough +cuckoo, cuckoo, the mechanical notes that tell his name. Cuckoo clocks +were first made in Europe where the common species of cuckoo calls in +this way, but don't imagine its American cousins do. Our yellow-billed +cuckoo's unmusical, guttural notes sound something like a tree toad's +rattle, <i>kuk-kuk, kuk-kuk, kuk-kuk, kr-r-r-uck, kr-r-r-uck, +kr-r-r-uck, kr-r-ruck, cow, cow, cow, cow!</i> This is his complete +"song," but usually one hears only a portion of it. The black-billed +cuckoo's voice is softer, and its cow notes run together, otherwise +their "songs" are alike. Both of our common cuckoos are slim, graceful +birds about twelve inches long—longer than a robin. They are solitary +creatures and glide silently among the foliage of trees and shrubbery, +rarely giving you a good look at their satiny, grayish-brown backs and +dull-white <a name="206">{206}</a> breasts. You may know the yellow-billed cuckoo by the +yellow lower-half of his long, curved bill, his cinnamon-brown wings +and the conspicuous white thumb-nail spots on his dark tail feathers. +If you were to dip your thumb in white paint, then pinch these outer +quills, you would leave similar marks. +</p> +<p> +Most birds will not touch the hairy, fuzzy caterpillars—very +disagreeable mouthfuls, one would think. But happily cuckoos enjoy +them as well as the smooth, slippery kind. "I guess they like the +custard inside," said a little boy I know who had stepped on a fat +caterpillar on the path. "Cuckoos might well be called caterpillar +birds," wrote Florence Merriam Bailey, "for they are so given to a +diet of the hairy caterpillars that the walls of their stomachs are +actually permeated with the hairs, and a section of stomach looks like +the smoothly brushed top of a gentleman's beaver hat." When you see +the webs that the tent caterpillar stretches across the ends of the +branches of fruit and nut trees toward the end of summer, or early +autumn, watch for the cuckoo's visits. Orioles, also, tear open the +webs to get at the wiggling morsels inside, but they leave dead and +mutilated remains behind them, showing that their appetite for web +worms is less keen than that of the cuckoos, who eat them up clean. +Fortunately the caterpillar of the terribly destructive gypsy moth is +another favourite dainty. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i206.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The flicker. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i207.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Two baby cuckoos on the rickety bundle of sticks that by +courtesy we call a nest. +</p> +<br> +<a name="207">{207}</a> +<p> +Perhaps you have heard that the cuckoo, like the naughty cowbird, +builds no nest and lays its eggs in other birds' cradles? This is true +only of the European cuckoo. Its American cousin makes a poor apology +for a nest, it is true, merely a loose bundle or platform of sticks, +as flimsily put together as a dove's nest. The greenish-blue eggs or +the naked babies must certainly fall through, one would think. Still +it is all the cuckoos' own, and they are proud of it. But so sensitive +and fearful are they when a human visitor inspects their nursery that +they will usually desert it, never to return, if you touch it, so +beware of peeping! +</p> +<p> +When the skinny cuckoo babies are a few days old, blue pin-feathers +begin to appear, and presently their bodies are stuck full of fine, +sharply pointed quills like a well-stocked pin cushion. Porcupine +babies you might think them now. But presto! every pin-feather +suddenly fluffs out the day before the youngsters leave the nest, and +they are clothed in a suit of soft feathers like their parents. In a +few months young cuckoos, hatched as far north as New England and +Canada or even Labrador, are strong enough to fly to Central or South +America to spend the winter. +</p> +<a name="208">{208}</a> +<h2>BELTED KINGFISHER +<br><br> +<i> Called also: The Halcyon</i> +</h2> +<p> +This Izaak Walton of birddom, whom you may see perched as erect as a +fish hawk on a snag in the lake, creek or river, or on a dead limb +projecting over the water, on the lookout for minnows, chub, red fins, +samlets or any other small fry that swims past, is as expert as any +fisherman you are ever likely to know. Sharp eyes are necessary to see +a little fish where sunbeams dance on the ripples and the refracted +light plays queer tricks with one's vision. Once a victim is sighted, +how swiftly the lone fisherman dives through the air and water after +it, and how accurately he strikes its death-blow behind the gills! If +the fish be large and lusty it may be necessary to carry it to the +snag and give it a few sharp knocks with his long powerful bill to end +its struggles. These are soon over, but the kingfisher's have only +begun. See him gag and writhe as he swallows his dinner, head first, +and then, regretting his haste, brings it up again to try a wider +avenue down his throat! Somebody shot a kingfisher which had tried to +swallow so large a fish that the tail was sticking out of his mouth, +while its head was safely stored below in the bird's stomach. After +the meat digests, <a name="209">{209}</a> the indigestible skin, bones, and scales of +the fish are thrown up without the least nausea. +</p> +<p> +A certain part of a favourite lake or stream this fisherman patrols +with a sense of ownership and rarely leaves it. Alone, but +self-satisfied, he clatters up and down his beat as a policeman, going +his rounds, might sound his rattle from time to time. The +rattle-headed bird knows every pool where minnows play, every +projection along the bank where a fish might hide, and is ever on the +alert, not only to catch a dinner, but to escape from the sight of the +child who intrudes on his domain and wants to "know" him. You cannot +mistake this big, chunky bird, fully a foot long, with grayish-blue +upper parts, the long, strong wings and short, square tail dotted in +broken bars of white, and with a heavy, bluish band across his white +breast. His mate and children wear rusty bands instead of blue. The +crested feathers on top of his big, powerful head reach backward to +the nape like an Indian chief's feather bonnet, and give him +distinction. Under his thick, oily plumage, as waterproof as a duck's, +he wears a suit of down under-clothing. +</p> +<p> +No doubt you have heard that all birds are descended from reptile +ancestors; that feathers are but modified scales, and that a bird's +song is but the glorified hiss of the serpent. Then <a name="210">{210}</a> the +kingfisher and the bank swallow retain at least one ancient custom of +their ancestors, for they still place their eggs in the ground. The +lone fisherman chooses a mate early in the spring and, with her help, +he tunnels a hole in a bank next a good fishing ground. A minnow pool +furnishes the most-approved baby food. Perhaps the mates will work two +or three weeks before they have tunnelled far enough to suit them and +made a spacious nursery at the end of the long hall. Usually from five +to eight white eggs are laid about six feet from the entrance on a +bundle of grass, or perhaps on a heap of ejected fish bones and +refuse. While his queen broods, the devoted kingfisher brings her the +best of his catch. At first their babies are as bare and skinny as +their cuckoo relatives. When the father or mother bird flies up stream +with a fish for them, giving a rattling call instead of ringing a +dinner bell, all the hungry youngsters rush forward to the mouth of +the tunnel; but only one can be satisfied each trip. Then all run +backward through the inclined tunnel, like reversible steam engines, +and keep tightly huddled together until the next exciting rattle is +heard. Both parents are always on guard to drive off mink, rats and +water snakes that are the terrors of their nursery. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i210a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Waiting for mamma and fish. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i210b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Young belted kingfisher on his favourite snag. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i211.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Kingfisher on the look-out for a dinner. +</p> +<br> +<a name="211">{211}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XV +<br><br> +DAY AND NIGHT ALLIES OF THE FARMER</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Turkey Vulture<br> + Red-shouldered Hawk<br> + Red-tailed Hawk<br> + Cooper's Hawk<br> + Bald Eagle<br> + American Sparrow Hawk<br> + American Osprey<br> + American Barn Owl<br> + Short-eared Owl<br> + Long-eared Owl<br> + Barred Owl<br> + Screech Owl<br> +</p> +<br> +<a name="212">{212}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="213">{213}</a> +<br> +<h2>TURKEY VULTURE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Turkey Buzzard</i> +</h2> +<p> +Every child south of Mason and Dixon's line knows this big buzzard +that sails serenely with its companions in great circles, floating +high overhead, now rising, now falling, with scarcely a movement of +its wide-spread wings. In the air, it expresses the very poetry of +motion. No other bird is more graceful and buoyant. One could spend +hours watching its fascinating flight. But surely its earthly habits +express the very prose of existence; for it may be seen in the company +of other dusky scavengers, walking about in the roads of the smaller +towns and villages, picking up refuse; or, in the fields, feeding on +some dead animal. Relying upon its good offices, the careless farmer +lets his dead pig or horse or chicken lie where it dropped, knowing +that buzzards will speedily settle on it and pick its bones clean. Our +soldiers in the war with Spain say that the final touch of horror on +the Cuban battlefields was when the buzzards, that were wheeling +overhead, suddenly dropped where their wounded or dead comrades fell. +</p> +<a name="214">{214}</a> +<p> +Because it is so helpful in ridding the earth of decaying matter, the +law and the Southern people, white and coloured, protect the vulture. +Its usefulness is more easily seen and understood than that of many +smaller birds of greater value which, alas! are a target for every +gunner. Consequently, it is perhaps the commonest bird in the South, +and tame enough for the merest tyro in bird lore to learn that it is +about two and a half feet long, with a wing spread of fully six feet; +that its head and neck are bare and red like a turkey's, and that its +body is covered with dusky feathers edged with brown—an ungainly, +unlovely creature out of its element, the air. Another sable +scavenger, the black vulture or carrion crow, of similar habits, but +with a more southerly range, is common in the Gulf States. +</p> +<p> +Because it feeds on carrion that not even a goat grudges it, and is +too lazy and cowardly to pick a quarrel, the buzzard has no enemies. +Although classed among birds of prey, it does not frighten the +smallest chick in the poultry yard when it flops down beside it. With +beak and claws capable of gashing painful wounds, it never uses them +for defence, but resorts to the disgusting trick of throwing up the +contents of its stomach over any creature that comes too near. When a +colony of the ever-sociable buzzards are nesting, you may be very sure +<a name="215">{215}</a> no one cares to make a close study of their young. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RED-SHOULDERED HAWK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Hen Hawk; Chicken Hawk; Winter Hawk</i> +</h2> +<p> +Let any one say "Hawk" to the average farmer and he looks for his gun. +For many years it was supposed that every member of the hawk family +was a villain and fair game, but the white searchlight of science +shows us that most of the tribe are the farmers' allies, which, with +the owls, share the task of keeping in check the mice, moles, gophers, +snakes, and the larger insect pests. Nature keeps her vast domain +patrolled by these vigilant watchers by day and by night. Guns may +well be turned on those blood-thirsty fiends in feathers. Cooper's +hawk, the sharp-shinned hawk, and the goshawk, that not only eat our +poultry, but every song bird they can catch: the law of the survival +of the fittest might well be enforced with lead in their case. But do +let us protect our friends, the more heavily built and slow-flying +hawks with the red tails and red shoulders, among other allies in our +ceaseless war against farm vermin! +</p> +<p> +In the court of last appeal to which all our <a name="216">{216}</a> hawks are +brought—I mean those scientific men in the Department of Agriculture, +Washington, who examine the contents of birds' stomachs to learn just +what food is taken in different parts of the country and at different +seasons of the year—the two so-called "hen hawks" were proved to be +rare offenders, and great helpers. Two hundred and twenty stomachs of +red-shouldered hawks were examined by Dr. Fisher, and only three +contained remains of poultry, while one hundred and two contained +mice; ninety-two, insects; forty, moles and other small mammals; +fifty-nine, frogs and snakes, and so on. The percentage of poultry +eaten is so small that it might be reduced to nothing if the farmers +would keep their chickens in yards instead of letting them roam to +pick up a living in the fields, where the temptation to snatch up one +must be overwhelming to a hungry hawk. Fortunately these two +beneficent "hen hawks," are still common, in spite of our ignorant +persecution of them for two hundred years or more. +</p> +<p> +Toward the end of summer, especially in September, when nursery duties +have ended for the year and the hawks are care free, you may see them +sailing in wide spirals, delighting in the cooler stratum of air high +overhead. Balancing on wide, outstretched wings, floating serenely +with no apparent effort, they enjoy <a name="217">{217}</a> the slow merry-go-round at a +height that would make any child dizzy. Sometimes they rise out of +sight. <i>Kee you, kee you</i>, they scream as they sail. Does the teasing +blue jay imitate the call for the fun of frightening little birds? +</p> +<p> +But the red-shouldered hawk is not on pleasure bent much of the time. +Perching is its specialty, and on an outstretched limb, or other point +of vantage, it sits erect and dignified, its far-seeing eyes alone in +motion trying to sight its quarry—a mouse creeping through the +meadow, a mole leaving its tunnel, a chipmunk running along a stone +wall, a frog leaping into the swamp, a gopher or young rabbit frisking +around the edges of the wood—when, spying one, "like a thunderbolt it +falls." +</p> +<p> +If you could ever creep close enough to a red-shouldered hawk, which +is not likely, you would see that it is a powerful bird, about a foot +and a half long, dark brown above, the feathers edged with rusty, with +bright chestnut patches on the shoulders. The wings and dark tail are +barred with white, so are the rusty-buff under parts, and the light +throat has dark streaks. Female hawks are larger than the males, just +as the squaws in some Indian tribes are larger than the braves. It is +said that hawks remain mated for life; so do eagles and owls, for in +their family life, at least, the birds of prey are remarkably devoted, +gentle and loving. +</p> +<a name="218">{218}</a> +<br> + +<h2>RED-TAILED HAWK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Hen Hawk; Chicken Hawk; Red Hawk</i> +</h2> +<p> +This larger relative of the red-shouldered hawk (the female red-tail +measures nearly two feet in length) shares with it the hatred of all +but the most enlightened farmers. Before condemning either of these +useful allies, everyone should read the report of Dr. Fisher, +published by the Government, and to be had for the asking. This expert +judge tells of a pair of red-tailed hawks that reared their young for +two successive seasons in a birch tree in some swampy woods, about +fifty rods from a poultry farm, where they might have helped +themselves to eight hundred chickens and half as many ducks; yet they +were never known to touch one. Occasionally, in winter especially, +when other food is scarce, a red-tail will steal a chicken—probably +a maimed or sickly one that cannot get out of the way—or drop on a +bob-white; but ninety per cent, of its food consists of injurious +mammals and insects. +</p> +<p> +Both of these slandered "hen hawks" prefer to live in low, wet, wooded +places with open meadows for hunting grounds near by. +</p> +<a name="219">{219}</a> +<br> +<h2>COOPER'S HAWK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Chicken Hawk; Big Blue Darter</i> +</h2> +<p> +Here is no ally of the farmer, but his foe, the most bold of all his +robbers, a blood-thirsty villain that lives by plundering poultry +yards, and tearing the warm flesh from the breasts of game and song +birds, one of the few members of his generally useful tribe that +deserves the punishment ignorantly meted out to his innocent +relatives. Unhappily, it is perhaps the most common hawk in the +greater part of the United States, and therefore does more harm than +all the others. It is mentioned in this chapter that concerns the +farmers' allies, only because every child should know foe from friend. +</p> +<p> +The female Cooper's hawk is about nineteen inches long and her mate a +finger-length smaller, but not nearly so small as the little blue +darter, the sharp-shinned hawk, only about a foot in length, but which +it very closely resembles in plumage and villainy. Both species have +slaty-gray upper parts with deep bars across their wings and ashy-gray +tails. The latter differ in outline, however. Cooper's hawk having a +rounded tail with whitish tip, and the sharp-shinned hawk a square +tail. In maturity Cooper's hawk wears a blackish crown. Both species +have white throats with dark streaks <a name="220">{220}</a> +and the rest of their under parts are much barred with buff +and white. +</p> +<p> +Instead of spending their time perching on lookouts, as the red-tailed +and red-shouldered hawks do, these two reprobates dash after their +victims on the wing, chasing them across open stretches where such +swift, dexterous, dodging flyers are sure to overtake them. Or they +will flash out of a clear sky like feathered lightning and boldly +strike a chicken, though it be pecking corn near a farmer's feet. +These two marauders, and the big slate-coloured goshawk, also called +the blue hen hawk or partridge hawk, stab their cruel talons though +the vitals of more valuable poultry, song and game birds, than any +child would care to read about. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BALD EAGLE</h2> +<p> +Every American boy and girl knows our national bird, which is the +farmer's ally, however, only when it appears on the money in his +pocket. Without an eagle on that, you must know it would be of little +use to him. +</p> +<p> +Truth to tell, this majestic emblem of our republic (borrowed from +imperial Rome) that spreads itself gloriously over our coins, flag +poles, public buildings and government documents, is, in real life, +not the bravest of the brave, nor the most intelligent, nor the +noblest, <a name="221">{221}</a> nor the most enterprising of birds, as one fain would +believe. On the contrary, it often uses its wonderful eyesight to +detect a bird more skilful than itself in the act of catching a fish, +and then puts forth its superb strength to rob the successful fisher +of his prey. The osprey is a frequent sufferer, although some of the +water fowl, that patiently course over the waves hour after hour, in +search of a dinner, may be robbed of it by the overpowering pirate. +Dead fish cast up on the beach are not rejected. When fish fail, +coots, ducks, geese and gulls—the fastest of flyers—are likely to +be snatched up, plucked clean of their feathers, and torn apart by the +great bird that drops suddenly upon them from the clouds like Jove's +thunderbolt. Rarely small animals are seized, but there is probably no +well-authenticated case of an eagle carrying off a child. +</p> +<p> +It is in their family life that hawks and eagles, however cruel at +other times, show some truly lovable traits. Once mated, they know +neither divorce nor family quarrels all their lives. Home is the +dearest spot on earth to them. They become passionately attached to +the great bundle of trash that is at once their nest and their abode. +A tall pine tree, near water, or the rocky ledge of some steep cliff, +is the favourite site for an eagle eyrie. Here the devoted mates will +carry an immense quantity of <a name="222">{222}</a> sticks, sod, cornstalks, pine +twigs, weeds, bones, and other coarse rubbish, until, after annual +repairs for several seasons, the broad, flat nest may grow to be +almost as high as it is wide and look something like a New York +sky-scraper. Both parents sit on the eggs in turn and devote +themselves with zeal to feeding the eaglets. These spoiled children +remain in the nest several months without attempting to fly, expecting +to be waited upon even after they are actually larger than the old +birds. The castings of skins, bones, hair, scales, etc., in the +vicinity of a hawk's or eagle's nest, will indicate, almost as well as +Dr. Fisher's analysis, what food the babies had in their stomachs to +make them grow so big. Immature birds are almost black all over. Not +until they are three years old do the feathers on their heads and +necks turn white, giving them the effect of being bald. Any eagle seen +in the eastern United States is sure to be of this species. +</p> +<p> +In the West and throughout Asia and Africa lives the golden eagle, of +which Tennyson wrote the lines that apply equally well to our Eastern +"bird of freedom": +</p> +<p class="cite"> + "He clasps the crag with crooked hands;<br> + Close to the sun in lonely lands,<br> + Ringed with the azure world he stands.<br> + The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:<br> + He watches from his mountain walls.<br> + And, like a thunderbolt, he falls." +</p> +<a name="223">{223}</a> + +<h2>AMERICAN SPARROW HAWK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Killy Hawk; Rusty-crowned Falcon; +Mouse Hawk.</i> +</h2> +<p> +Just such an extended branch as a shrike or a kingbird would use as a +lookout while searching the landscape o'er for something to eat, the +little sparrow hawk chooses for the same purpose. He is not much +larger than either of these birds, scarcely longer than a robin. +Because he is a hawk, with the family possession of eyes that are both +telescope and microscope, he can detect a mouse, sparrow, garter +snake, spider or grasshopper, farther away than seems to us possible. +</p> +<p> +Every farmer's boy knows this beautiful little rusty-red hawk, with +slaty-blue cap and wings, and creamy-buff spotted sides, if not by +sight then by sound, as it calls <i>kill-ee, kill-ee kill-ee</i>, across +the fields. It does not soar and revolve in a merry-go-round on high +like its cousins, but flies swiftly and gracefully, keeping near +enough to the ground to see everything that creeps or hops through the +grass. Dropping suddenly, like a stone, upon its victim (usually a +grasshopper) it seizes it in its small, sharp, fatal talons and bears +it away to a favourite perch, there to enjoy it at leisure. +</p> +<a name="224">{224}</a> +<p> +This is the hawk that is so glad to find a deserted woodpecker's hole +for its nest. How many other birds gratefully accept those skilful +carpenters' vacant tenements! +</p> +<br> +<h2>AMERICAN OSPREY +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Fish Hawk</i></h2> +<p> +A pair of these beautiful big hawks, that had nested year after year +in the top of a tall pine tree on the Manasquan River, New Jersey, +were great pets in that region. An old fisherman of Barnegat Bay told +me that when he was hauling in his seine one day, he saw the male +osprey strike the water with a splash, struggle an instant with a +great fish that had been following his net, and disappear below the +waves, never to rise again. The bird more than met his match that +time. The fish was far larger than he expected, so powerful that it +easily dragged him under, once his talons were imbedded in the fish's +flesh. For the rest of the summer the widowed osprey always stayed +about when the fisherman hauled his net on the beach, and bore away to +her nest the worthless fish he left in it for her special benefit. But +after rearing her family—a prolonged process for all the hawks, +eagles, and owls—she never returned to the <a name="225">{225}</a> neighbourhood. +Perhaps old associations were too painful; perhaps she was shot on her +way South that winter; or perhaps she took another mate with more +sense and less greed, who preferred to reside elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +As you may imagine, fish hawks always live near water. In summer they +frequent the inlets along the Atlantic coast, but over inland lakes +and rivers also, many fly back and forth. You may know by their larger +size—they are almost two feet long—and by their slow flight that +they are not the winter gulls. Their dusky backs and white under parts +harmonise well with the marine picture, North or South. Their plumage +contains more white than that of any other hawk. No matter how foggy +the day or how quietly the diving osprey may splash to catch his fish +dinner, any bald-headed eagle in the vicinity is sure to detect him in +the act of seizing it, and then to relieve him of it instantly. +</p> +<br> +<h2>OWLS</h2> +<p> +Like many children I know, owls begin to be especially lively toward +night, only they make no noise as they fly about. Very soft, fluffy +plumage muffles their flight so that they can drop upon a meadow mouse +creeping through the grass in the stilly night before this wee, <a name="226">{226}</a> +timorous beastie suspects there is a foe abroad. As owls live upon +mice, mostly, it is important they should be helped to catch them with +some device that beats our traps. If mice should change their +nocturnal habits, the owl's whole scheme of existence would be upset, +and the hawks would get the quarry that they now enjoy: mice, rats, +moles, bats, frogs and the larger insects. You see the farmer has +invaluable day and night allies in these birds of prey which take +turns in protecting his fields from rodents, one patrol working while +the other sleeps. On the whole, owls are the more valuable to him. +They usually continue their good work all through the winter after the +hawks have gone South. Can you think of any other birds that work for +him at night? +</p> +<p> +Not only can owls fluff out their loose, mottled plumage, but they can +draw it in so close as to change their shape and size in an instant, +so that they look like quite different birds, or rather not like birds +at all, but stumps of trees. Altering their outlines, changing their +shape and size at will, is one of these queer birds' peculiarities. +Their eyes, set in the centre of feathered discs, do not revolve in +their sockets, but are so fixed that they look only straight ahead, +which is why an owl must turn his head every time he wishes to glance +to the right or left. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i226.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Turkey buzzard: one of Nature's house cleaners. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i227.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The beautiful little sparrow hawk. +</p> +<br> +<a name="227">{227}</a> +<p> +Another peculiarity is the owls' method of eating. Bolting entire all +the food they catch, head first, they digest only the nutritious +portions of it. Then, bowing their heads and shaking them very hard, +they eject the bones, claws, skin, hair and fur in matted pellets, +without the least distress. Some children I know, who swallow their +food in a hurry—cherry stones, grape skins, apple cores and all—need +a similar, merciful digestive apparatus. +</p> +<p> +Like the hawks, owls are devoted, life-long mates. The females are +larger than the males. Some like to live in dense evergreens that hide +them from teasing blue jays and other foes by day; some, like the barn +owl, prefer towers, church steeples or the tops of barns and other +buildings; some hide in hollow trees or deserted woodpeckers' holes, +but all naturally prefer to take their long, daily naps where the +sunlight does not penetrate. They live in their homes more hours than +woodpeckers or any other birds. No doubt we pass by many sleeping owls +without suspecting their presence. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BARN OWL +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Monkey-faced Owl</i></h2> +<p> +This is the shy, odd-looking, gray and white mottled owl with the +triangular face and slim <a name="228">{228}</a> body, about a foot and a half long, +that comes out of its hole at evening with a wild scream, startling +timid and superstitious people into the belief that it is uncanny. The +American counterpart of "wise Minerva's only fowl," its large +eye-discs and solemn blink certainly make it look like a fit companion +for the goddess of wisdom. +</p> +<p> +A tame barn owl, owned by a gentleman in Philadelphia, would sit on +his shoulder for hours at a time. It felt offended if its master would +not play with it. The only way the man could gain time for himself +during the bird's waking hours, was to feed it well and leave a +stuffed bird for it to play with when he went out of the room, just as +Jimmy Brown left a doll with his baby sister when he went out to play; +only the man could not tack the owl's petticoats to the floor. +</p> +<p> +A pair of barn owls lived for many years in the tower of the +Smithsonian Institution, Washington. Dr. Fisher found the skulls of +four hundred and fifty-four small mammals in the pellets cast about +their home. Another pair lived in a tower and on the best of terms +with some tame pigeons. Happily the owls had no taste for squab, but +the debris of several thousand mice and rats about their curious +dwelling proved that their appetite needed no coaxing with such a +delicacy. +</p> +<a name="229">{229}</a> +<br> +<h2>SHORT-EARED OWL +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Marsh Owl; Meadow Owl</i></h2> +<p> +This owl, and its long-eared cousin, wear the tufts of feathers in +their ears that resemble harmless horns. Unlike its relatives, the +short-eared owl does some hunting by daylight, especially in cloudy +weather, and like the marsh hawk it prefers to live in grassy, marshy +places frequented by meadow mice. On the other hand, the long-eared +owl respects family traditions, and goes about only after dark. "It +usually spends the day in some evergreen woods, thick willow copse or +alder swamp, although rarely it may be found in open places," says Dr. +Fisher. "The bird is not wild and will allow itself to be closely +approached. When conscious that its presence is recognised, it sits +upright, draws the feathers close to its body, and erects the +ear-tufts, resembling in appearance a piece of weather-beaten bark +more than a bird." The long and the short of it is, that few people, +except professional bird students, know very much about these or any +other owls, for few find them by day or forsake their couches when +they are abroad. We may take Dr. Johnson's advice and "give our days +and nights to the study of Addison," but few of us give even a part of +our days and less of our nights to the study of the birds about us. +</p> +<a name="230">{230}</a> +<br> +<h2>BARRED OWL +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Hoot Owl</i></h2> +<p> +If "a good child should be seen and not heard" what can be said for +this owl? Its deep-toned <i>whoo-whoo-who-whoo-to-whoo-ah</i>, like the +wail of some lost soul asking the way, is the only indication you are +likely to have that a hoot owl lives in your neighbourhood. You can +imitate its voice and deliberately "hoot it up." Few people who know +its voice will ever see its smooth, round, bland, almost human face. +</p> +<p> +"As useless as a last year's nest" can have no meaning to a pair of +these large hardy owls that go about toward the end of winter looking +for a deserted woodpecker's nest or a hawk's, crow's, or squirrel's +bulky cradle in some tree top. Ever after they hold it as their own. +</p> +<p> +Farmers shoot the owl that occasionally takes one of their broilers or +a game bird, not knowing that the remainder of its diet really leaves +them in its debt. +</p> +<br> +<h2>SCREECH OWLS</h2> +<p> +A boy I know had a pair of little screech owls invite themselves to +live in a box he had nailed <a name="231">{231}</a> up for bluebirds in his father's +orchard. Although they had full liberty, in time they became tame +pets, even pampered darlings, with a willing slave to trap mice for +them in the corn crib and hay loft. At first mice were plentiful +enough, and every day after school the boy would empty the traps, +climb the apple tree and feed the owls. But presently the mice learned +the danger that may lurk behind an innocent looking lump of cheese. +One foolish, hungry mouse now and then was all the boy could catch. +This he would carry by the tail to his sleeping pets, arouse them by +dangling it against their heads, at which, while half asleep, they +would click their beaks like castanets. When both were wide awake he +would allow one of them to bolt the mouse while he still held on +firmly to the tail. Then, jerking the mouse back out of the owl's +throat, he would allow the other owl to really swallow it. When next +he caught a mouse, the operation was reversed: the owl that had been +satisfied before now gulped the mouse first, only to have it jerked +away and fed to its mate. In this way, strange to say, the boy kept on +friendly terms with the pair for several weeks, when he discovered +that they liked bits of raw beef quite as well as mice. After that he +carried his queer pets to the house and kept them in his room all +winter. Early in the spring they <a name="232">{232}</a> returned to the bird house and +raised a family of funny, fluffy, plump little owlets. +</p> +<p> +This boy discovered for himself the screech owls' strange +characteristic of changing their colour without changing their +feathers, as moulting song birds change theirs. They have a rusty, +reddish-brown phase and a mottled-gray phase. So far as is known, +these changes of colour are not dependent upon age, sex, or season. No +one understands what causes them or what they mean. Sometimes the same +family will contain birds with plumage that is rusty-brown or gray or +intermediate. But you may always know a screech owl by its small size +(it is only about as long as a robin) and by the ear tufts that make +it look wide-awake and very wise. +</p> +<p> +By day it keeps well hidden in some deserted woodpecker's hole or a +hollow in some old orchard tree, which is its favourite residence; but +some mischievous little birds, with sharper eyes than ours, often +discover its hiding place, wake it up, and chase it, blinking and +bewildered, all about the farm. By night, when its tormentors are +asleep, this little owl goes forth for its supper, and then we hear +its weird, sweet, shivering, tremulous cry. Because it lives near our +homes and is, perhaps, the commonest of the owls all over our country, +every child can know it by sound, if not by sight. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i232.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Father and mother barn owls. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i233.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The heavenly twins: young barn owls. +</p> +<br> +<a name="233">{233}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XVI +<br><br> +MOURNER, WHISTLER, AND DRUMMER</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Mourning Dove<br> + Bob-White<br> + Ruffed Grouse +</p> +<br> +<a name="234">{234}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="235">{235}</a> +<br> +<h2>MOURNING DOVE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Carolina Dove</i></h2> +<p> +Do not waste any sympathy on this incessant love-maker that slowly +sings <i>coo-o-o, ah-coo-o-o-ooo-o-o-ooo-o-o</i>, in a sweetly sad voice. +Really he is no more melancholy than the plaintive pewee but, on the +contrary, is so happy in his love that his devotion has passed into a +proverb. Nevertheless, the song he sings to his "turtle dove" sounds +more like a dirge than a rapture. While she lives, there is no more +contented bird in the woods. +</p> +<p> +Dove lovers are quite self-sufficient. Their larger cousins, the wild +pigeons, that once were so abundant, depended on friends for much of +their happiness and lived in enormous flocks. Now only a few pairs +survive in this land of liberty to refute the adage "In union there is +strength." Because millions of pigeons slept in favourite roosts many +miles in extent, they were all too easily netted, and it did not take +greedy men long to turn the last flock into cash. Happily, doves +preserved their race by scattering in couples over a wide area—from +<a name="236">{236}</a> Panama, in winter, as far north as Ontario in warm weather. Not +until nursery duties, which begin early in the spring, are over, late +in summer, do they give up their shy, unsocial habits to enjoy the +company of a few friends. When they rise on whistling wings from +tree-bordered fields, where they have been feeding on seeds and grain, +not a gun is fired: no one cares to eat them. +</p> +<p> +Only the cuckoo of our common birds builds so flimsy a nest as the +dove's adored darling. I am sorry to tell you she is a slack, +incompetent housekeeper, but evidently her lover is blind to every +fault. What must the expert phoebe think of such a poorly made, untidy +cradle, or that bustling, energetic housewife, Jenny Wren, or the +tiniest of clever architects, the hummingbird? It is a wonder that the +dove's two white eggs do not fall through the rickety, rimless, +unlined lattice. How scarred and bruised the naked bodies of the twins +must be by the sticks! Like pigeons, hummingbirds, flickers, and some +other feathered parents, doves feed their fledglings by pumping partly +digested food—"pigeon's milk"—from their own crops into theirs. +</p> +<p> +When they leave the open woodlands to take a dust bath in the road, or +to walk about and collect gravel for their interior grinding machines, +or to get a drink of water before going to sleep, you may have a good +look at them. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i236.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A little screech owl in the sunlight where only a photographer +could find him. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i237.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Mrs. White on her nest while Bob whistles to her from +the wild-strawberry patch. +</p> +<br> +<a name="237">{237}</a> +<p> +As they walk, they bob their heads in a funny manner of their own. +They are bluish, fawn-coloured birds about a foot long. The male has +some exquisite metallic colours on his neck, otherwise he resembles +his best beloved. Both wear black crescent patches on their cheeks. +All the feathers on their long, pointed tails, except the two largest +central ones, have a narrow, black band across the end and are tipped +with white. The breast feathers shade from pinkish fawn to pale buff +below. Beautiful birds these, in spite of their quiet, Quaker clothes. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BOB-WHITE +<br><br> +<i> Called Also: "Quail-on-Toast"; Partridge</i></h2> +<p> +What a cheerful contrast is Bob White's clear, staccato whistle to the +drawing coo of the amorous dove! Character is often expressed in a +bird's voice as well as in ours. From their voices alone you might +guess that the dove and the quail are no relation. They do not belong +even to the same order, bob-white being a scratching bird and having +the ruffed grouse and barnyard chicken for his kin. Pheasants and +turkeys are distantly related. In the South people call him a +partridge; in <a name="238">{238}</a> New England it is the ruffed grouse that is known +by that name; therefore, to save confusion, why not always give +bob-white the name by which he calls himself? The chickadee, phoebe, +peewee, towhee, whip-poor-will and bobolink, who tell their names less +plainly than he, save every child who tries to know them much trouble. +Don't you wish every bird would introduce himself? +</p> +<p> +The boy who +</p> +<pre> + "Drives home the cows from the pasture, + Up through the long, shady lane, + Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat fields, + That are yellow with ripening grain," +</pre> +<p> +probably "whistles up" those bob-whites on his way home as you would +start up the roosters in the barnyard by imitating their crow. <i>Bob +White! Ah, Bob White!</i> rings from some plump little feathered gallant +on the outskirts of almost any farm during the long nesting season. +</p> +<p> +A slight depression in some dry, grassy field or a hole at the foot of +an old stump or weed-hedged wall will be lined with leaves and grasses +by both mates in May to receive from ten to eighteen brilliant white +eggs that are packed in, pointed end downwards, to economise space. If +an egg were removed, it would be difficult indeed to re-arrange the +clutch with such economy. Would it not be cruel to touch a <a name="239">{239}</a> nest +which the outraged owners would at once desert? +</p> +<p> +Just as baby chickens follow the mother about, so downy bob-whites run +after both their parents and learn which seeds, grain, insects and +berries they may safely eat. Man, with his gun and dog and mowing +machines, is their worst enemy, of course; then comes the sly fox and +sneaking weasel that spring upon them from ambush, and the hawk that +drops upon them like a thunderbolt. Birds have enemies above, below, +and on every side. Is it any wonder that they are timid and shy? A +note of alarm from Mamma White summons the chicks, half-running, +half-flying, to huddle close to her or to take shelter beneath her +short wings. Their little grouse cousins find protection in a more +original way. When the mother is busy sitting on a second or third +clutch of eggs, it is Bob himself, a pattern of all the domestic +virtues, who takes full charge of the family. When the last chicks are +ready to join their older brothers and sisters, the bevy may contain +three or four dozen birds, all devotedly attached to one another. At +bed time they squat in a circle on the ground, tails toward the centre +of the ring, heads pointing outward to detect an enemy coming from any +direction. As if their vigilance were not enough, Bob usually remains +outside the ring to act as <a name="240">{240}</a> sentinel. At the sign of danger the +bunch of birds will rise with loud whirring of the wings, as suddenly +as a bomb might burst. +</p> +<p> +From November onward, every gun in the country will be trained against +them. There is sufficient reason for poor people, who rarely have any +really good food, or enough to eat, shooting game birds in season; but +who has any patience with the pampered epicures for whose order +"quail-on-toast" are cooked by the hundred thousand at city clubs, +restaurants, and private tables, already over-supplied? No chef could +ever tempt me to eat this friendly little song bird that stays about +the farm with his family through the coldest winter to pick up the +buckwheat, cheap raisins, and sweepings from the hay loft that keep +him as neighbourly as a robin. Every farmer who does not post his +place, and who allows this useful ally in his eternal war against +weeds and insect pests to be shot, impoverishes himself more than he +is aware. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RUFFED GROUSE +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Partridge</i></h2> +<p> +Bob-white and ruffed grouse are the fife and drum corps of the woods. +That some birds are wonderful musicians everybody knows. <a name="241">{241}</a> No +other orchestra contains a member who can drum without a drum. Even +that famous drummer, the woodpecker, needs a dead, dry, resonant, +hardwood limb to tap on before he can produce his best effects. How +does the grouse beat his deep, muffled, thump, thump, thumping, +rolling tattoo? Some scientists have staked their reputation on the +claim that they have seen him drum by rapidly striking his wings +against the sides of his body; but other later-day scientists, who +contend that he beats only the air when his wings vibrate so fast that +the sight cannot quite follow them, are undoubtedly right. +</p> +<p> +On a fallen log, a stump, a rail fence or a wall, that may have been +used as a drumming stand for many years, the male grouse will strut +with a jerking, dandified gait, puff out his feathers, ruff his neck +frills, raise and spread his fan-shaped tail like a turkey cock, blow +out his cheeks and neck, then suddenly halt and begin to beat his +wings. After a few slow, measured thumps, the stiff, strong wings whir +faster and faster, until there is only a blur where they vibrate. This +is the grouse's love song that summons a mate to their trysting place. +It serves also as a challenge to a rival. Blood and feathers may soon +be strewn around the ground, for in the spring grouse will fight as +fiercely as game-cocks. Sportsmen in the autumn woods <a name="242">{242}</a> often hear +grouse drumming at the old stand, merely from excess of vigour and not +because they take the slightest interest then in a mate. After the +mating season is over, they have less chivalry than barnyard roosters. +</p> +<p> +Shy, wary birds of wooded, hilly country, grouse are rarely thought of +as possible pets, but the gentle little girl in the picture won the +heart of a drummer and subdued his wildness, as you see. Some people +are trying to domesticate grouse in wire-enclosed poultry yards. +</p> +<p> +Sometimes when, like "the cat that walked by himself" you wander "in +the wild wet woods," perhaps you will be suddenly startled by the loud +whirring roar of a big brown grouse that suddenly hurls itself from +the ground near your feet. If it were shot from the mouth of a cannon +it could surprise you no less. Then it sails away, dodging the trees +and disappears. Gunners have "educated" the intelligent bird into +being, perhaps, the most wily, difficult game in the woods. +</p> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i242.jpg" border=1> +<br> + A little girl's rare pet: ruffed grouse. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i243.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The drummer drumming. +</p> +<br> +<p> +Like the meadowlark, flicker, sparrows and other birds that spend much +time on the ground, the bob-white and ruffed grouse wear brown +feathers, streaked and barred, to harmonise perfectly with their +surroundings. "To find a hen grouse with young is a memorable +experience," says Frank M. Chapman. "While the parent is giving us a +lesson in mother love and bird intelligence, her downy chicks are +teaching us facts in protective colouration and heredity. <a name="243">{243}</a> How +the old one limps and flutters! She can barely drag herself along the +ground. But while we are watching her, what has become of the ten or a +dozen little yellow balls we had almost stepped on? Not a feather do +we see, until, poking about in the leaves, we find one little chap +hiding here and another squatting there, all perfectly still, and so +like the leaves in colour as to be nearly invisible." +</p> +<br> +<a name="244">{244}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="245">{245}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XVII +<br><br> +BIRDS OF THE SHORE AND MARSHES</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Killdeer<br> + Semipalmated Or Ring-Necked Plover<br> + Least Sandpiper<br> + Spotted Sandpiper<br> + Woodcock<br> + Clapper Rail<br> + Sora Rail<br> + Great Blue Heron<br> + Little Green Heron<br> + Black-Crowned Night Heron<br> + American Bittern<br> +</p> +<br> +<a name="246">{246}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="247">{247}</a> +<br> +<h2>KILLDEER</h2> +<p> +If you don't know the little killdeer plover, it is surely not his +fault, for he is a noisy sentinel, always ready, night or day, to tell +you his name. <i>Killdee, killdee</i>, he calls with his high voice when +alarmed—and he is usually beset by fears, real or imaginary—but when +at peace, his voice is sweet and low. Much persecution from gunners +has made the naturally gentle birds of the shore and marshes rather +shy and wild. Most plovers nest in the Arctic regions, where man and +his wicked ways are unknown. When the young birds reach our land of +liberty and receive a welcome of hot shot, the survivors learn their +first lesson in shyness. Some killdeer, however, are hatched in the +United States. No sportsman worthy the name would waste shot on a bird +not larger than a robin; one, moreover, with musky flesh; yet I have +seen scores of killdeer strung over the backs of gunners in tide-water +Virginia. Their larger cousins, the black-breasted, the piping, the +golden and Wilson's plovers, who travel from the tundras of the far +North to South America and back again every year, have now become rare +because too much cooked <a name="248">{248}</a> along their long route. You can usually +tell a flock of plovers in flight by the crescent shape of the rapidly +moving mass. +</p> +<p> +With a busy company of friends, the killdeer haunts broad tracts of +grassy land, near water-uplands or lowlands, or marshy meadows beside +the sea. Scattered over a chosen feeding ground, the plovers run about +nimbly, nervously, looking for trouble as well as food. Because worms, +which are their favourite supper, come out of the ground at nightfall, +the birds are especially active then. Grasshoppers, crickets, and +other insects content them during the day. +</p> +<br> +<h2>SEMIPALMATED PLOVER</h2> +<p> +The killdeer, which is our commonest plover, has a little cousin +scarcely larger than an English sparrow that is a miniature of +himself, except that the semipalmated (half-webbed) or ring-necked +plover has only one dark band across the upper part of his white +breast, while the killdeer wears two black rings. This dainty little +beach bird has brownish-gray upper parts so like the colour of wet +sand, that, as he runs along over it, just in advance of the frothing +ripples, he is in perfect harmony with his surroundings. Relying upon +that fact for <a name="249">{249}</a> protection, he will squat behind a tuft of beach +grass if you pass too near rather than risk flight. +</p> +<p> +When the tide is out, you may see the tiny forms of these common +ring-necks mingled with the ever-friendly little sandpipers on the +exposed sand bars and wide beaches where all keep up a constant hunt +for bits of shell fish, fish eggs and sand worms. +</p> +<p> +General Greely found them nesting in Grinnell Land in July, the males +doing most of the incubating as is customary in the plover family, +whose females certainly have advanced ideas. Downy little chicks run +about as soon after leaving the egg as they are dry. In August the +advance guard of southbound flocks begin to arrive in the United +States <i>en route</i> for Brazil—quite a journey in the world to test the +fledgling's wings. +</p> +<br> +<h2>LEAST SANDPIPER</h2> +<br> +<pre> + Across the narrow beach we flit, + One little sandpiper and I; + And fast I gather, bit by bit, + The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. + The wild waves reach their hands for it, + The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, + As up and down the beach we flit,— + One little sandpiper and I. + + Above our heads the sullen clouds + Scud black and swift across the sky; + Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds + Stand out the white light-houses high. + Almost as far as eye can reach + I see the close-reefed vessels fly, + As fast we flit along the beach,— + One little sandpiper and I. + + I watch him as he skims along + Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; + He starts not at my fitful song, + Or flash of fluttering drapery. + He has no thought of any wrong; + He scans me with a fearless eye. + Stanch friends are we, well-tried and strong. + The little sandpiper and I. + + Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night + When the loosed storm breaks furiously? + My driftwood fire will burn so bright! + To what warm shelter canst thou fly? + I do not fear for thee, though wroth + The tempest rushes through the sky: + For are we not God's children both. + Thou, little sandpiper, and I? +</pre> +<br> +<a name="250">{250}</a> +<p> +Almost every child I know is more familiar with Celia Thaxter's poem +about the little sandpiper than with the bird itself. But if you have +the good fortune to be at the seashore in the late summer, when flocks +of the friendly mites come to visit us from the Arctic regions on +their way south, you can scarcely fail to become acquainted with the +companion of Mrs. Thaxter's lonely walks along the beach at the Isles +of Shoals where her father kept the lighthouse. +</p> +<a name="251">{251}</a> +<p> +The least sandpipers, peeps, ox-eyes or stints, as they are variously +called, are only about the size of sparrows—too small for any +self-respecting gunner to bag, therefore they are still abundant. +Their light, dingy-brown and gray, finely speckled backs are about the +colour of the mottled sand they run over so nimbly, and their breasts +are as white as the froth of the waves that almost never touch them. +Beach birds become marvellously quick in reckoning the fraction of a +second when they must run from under the combing wave about to break +over their little heads. Plovers rely on their fleet feet to escape a +wetting. Least sandpipers usually fly upward and onward if a deluge +threatens; but they have a cousin, the semipalmated (half-webbed) +sandpiper that swims well when the unexpected water suddenly lifts it +off its feet. +</p> +<p> +These busy, cheerful, sprightly little peepers are always ready to +welcome to their flocks other birds—ring-necked plovers, turnstones, +snipe and phalaropes. If by no other sign, you may distinguish +sandpipers by their constant call, <i>peep-peep</i>. +</p> +<br> +<h2>SPOTTED SANDPIPER</h2> +<p> +Do you know the spotted sandpiper, teeter, tilt-up, teeter-tail, +teeter-snipe, or tip-up, <a name="252">{252}</a> whichever you may choose to call it? As +if it had not yet decided whether to be a beach bird or a woodland +dweller, a wader or a perching songster, it is equally at home along +the seashore or on wooded uplands, wherever ditches, pools, streams, +creeks, swamps, and wet meadows furnish its favourite foods. It stays +with us through the long summer. Did you ever see it go through any of +the queer motions that have earned for it so many names? Jerking up +first its head, then its tail, it walks with a funny, bobbing, +tipping, see-saw gait, as if it were self-conscious and conceited. +Still another popular name was given from its sharp call <i>peet-weet, +peet-weet</i>, rapidly repeated, and usually uttered as the bird flies in +graceful curves over the water or inland fields. +</p> +<br> +<h2>WOODCOCK +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Blind, Wall-eyed, Mud, Bigheaded, +Wood, and Whistling Snipe; Bog-sucker; Bogbird; Timber Doodle.</i></h2> +<p> +Whenever you see little groups of clean-cut holes dotted over the +earth in low, wet ground, you may know that either the woodcock or +Wilson's snipe has been there probing for worms. Not even the +woodpecker's combination tool <a name="253">{253}</a> is more wonderfully adapted to its +work than the bill of these snipe, which is a long, straight boring +instrument, its upper half fitted with a flexible tip for hooking the +worm out of its hole as you would lift a string out of a jar on your +hooked finger. Down goes the bill into the mud, sunk to the nostrils; +then the upper tip feels around for its slippery victim. You need +scarcely hope to see the probing performance because earth-worms, like +mice, come out of their holes after dark, which is why snipe are most +active then. +</p> +<p> +A little boy once asked me this conundrum of his own making: "What is +the difference between Martin Luther and a woodcock?" Just a few +differences suggested themselves, but I did not guess right the very +first time; can you? "One didn't like a Diet of Worms and the other +does," was the small boy's answer. +</p> +<p> +After the ground freezes hard in the northern United States and +Canada, the woodcock is compelled to go south to Virginia. But by the +time the skunk cabbage and bright-green, fluted leaves of hellebore +are pushing through the bogs and wet woodlands in earliest spring, +back he comes again. An odd-looking, thick-necked, chunky fellow he +is, less than a foot in length, his long, straight, stout bill +sticking far out from his triangular head; his eyes placed so far back +in the upper corners that he must <a name="254">{254}</a> be able to see behind him +quite as well as he can look ahead; the streaks and bars of his +mottled russet-brown, gray and buff and black upper parts being so +laid on that he is in perfect harmony with the russet leaves, earth +and underbrush of his woodland home. When his mate is sitting on her +nest, the mimicry of her surroundings is so perfect it is well-nigh +impossible to find her. +</p> +<p> +Sportsmen pursue both the woodcock and Wilson's snipe relentlessly, +but happily they are no easy targets. Rising on short, stiff, +whistling wings they fly in a zig-zag, erratic flight, and quickly +drop to cover again, continually breaking the scent for a pursuing +dog. +</p> +<br> +<h2>RAILS</h2> +<p> +Rails are such shy, skulking hiders among the tall marsh grasses that +"every child" need never hope to know them all; but a few members of +the family that are both abundant and noisy, may be readily recognised +by their voices alone. +</p> +<p> +All rails prefer to escape from an intruder through the sedges in +well-worn runways rather than trust their short, rounded wings to bear +them beyond danger; and for forcing their way through grassy jungles, +their narrow-breasted, <a name="255">{255}</a> wedge-shaped bodies are perfectly +adapted. Compressed almost to a point in front, but broad and blunt +behind where their queer little short-pointed tails stand up, the +rails' small figures thread their way in and out of the mazes over the +oozy ground with wonderful rapidity. +</p> +<p> +"As thin as a rail" means much to the cook who plucks one. It offers +even a smaller bite than a robin to the epicure. When a gunner routs a +rail it reluctantly rises a few feet above the grasses, flies with +much fluttering, trailing its legs after it, but quickly sinks in the +sedges again. Except in game bags, you rarely see a rail's varied +brown and gray back or its barred breast. The bill is longer than the +head. The long, widespread, flat toes help the owner to tread a dinner +out of the mud as well as to swim across an inlet; and the short hind +toes enable him to cling when he runs up the rushes to reach the +tassels of grain at the top. No doubt you once played with some +mechanical toy that made a noise something like the peculiar, rolling +cackle of the clapper rail. This "marsh hen," which is common in the +salt meadows along our coast from Long Island southward, continually +betrays itself by its voice; otherwise you might never suspect its +presence unless you are in the habit of pushing a punt up a creek to +get acquainted with the <a name="256">{256}</a> interesting shy creatures that dwell in +what Thoreau called "Nature's sanctuary." +</p> +<p> +The clapper's cousin, the sora, or Carolina rail, so well known to +gunners, alas! if not to "every child," delights to live wherever wild +rice grows along inland lakes and rivers or along the coast. Its +sweetly whistled spring song <i>ker-wee, ker-wee</i>, and "rolling whinny" +give place in autumn to the <i>'kuk, kuk, 'k-'k'k-'kuk</i> imitated by +alleged sportsmen in search of a mere trifle of flesh that they fill +with shot. As Mrs. Wright says of the bobolinks (neighbours of the +soras in the rice fields) so may it be written of them; they only +serve "to lengthen some weary dinner where a collection of animal and +vegetable bric-a-brac takes the place of satisfactory nourishment." +</p> +<br> +<h2>GREAT BLUE HERON</h2> +<p> +Standing motionless as the sphinx, with his neck drawn in until his +crested head rests between his angular shoulders, the big, +long-legged, bluish-gray heron depends upon his stillness and +protective colouring to escape the notice of his prey, and of his +human foes (for he has no others). In spite of his size—and he stands +four feet high without stockings—it takes the sharpest eyes to detect +him as he waits in <a name="257">{257}</a> some shallow pool among the sedges along the +creek or river side, silently, solemnly, hour after hour, for a little +fish, frog, lizard, snake, or some large insect to come within +striking distance. With a sudden stroke of his long, strong, sharp +bill, he either snaps up his victim, or runs it through. A fish will +be tossed in the air before being swallowed, head downward, that the +fins may not scratch his very long, slender throat. When you are +eating ice cream, don't you wish your throat were as long as this +heron's? +</p> +<p> +A gunner, who wantonly shoots at any living target, will usually try +to excuse himself for striking down this stately, picturesque bird +into a useless mass of flesh and feathers, by saying that herons help +themselves to too many fish. (He forgets about all the mice and +reptiles they destroy.) But perhaps birds, as well as men, are +entitled to a fair share of the good things of the Creator. Some +people would prefer the sight of this majestic bird to the small, +worthless fish he eats. What do you think about protecting him by law? +Any one may shoot him now. The broad side of a barn would be about as +good a test of a marksman's skill. +</p> +<p> +The evil that birds do surely lives after them; the good they do for +us is far too little appreciated. Almost the last snowy heron and +<a name="258">{258}</a> the last egret of Southern swamps have yielded their bodies to +the knife of the plume hunter, who cuts out the exquisite decorations +these birds wear during the nesting season. Inasmuch as all the heron +babies depend upon their parents through an unusually long, helpless +infancy, the little orphans are left to die by starvation. For what +end is the slaughter of the innocents? Merely that the unthinking +heads of vain women may be decked out with aigrettes! Don't blame the +poor hunters too much when the plumes are worth their weight in gold. +</p> +<br> +<h2>LITTLE GREEN HERON +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Poke; Chuckle-head</i></h2> +<p> +This most abundant member of his tropical tribe that spends the summer +with us, is a shy, solitary bird of the swamps where you would lose +your rubber boots in the quagmire if you attempted to know him too +intimately. But you may catch a glimpse of him as he wades about the +edge of a pond or creek with slow, calculated steps, looking for his +supper. All herons become more active toward evening because their +prey does. By day, this heron, like his big, blue cousin, might be +mistaken for a stump or snag among the sedges and bushes by the +waterside, so dark and still is he. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i258.jpg" border=1> +<br> +A flock of friendly sandpipers and turnstones in wading. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i259a.jpg" border=1> +<br> +One little sandpiper. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i259b.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The coot. +</p> +<br> +<a name="259">{259}</a> +<p> +Herons are accused of the tropical vice of laziness; but surely a bird +that travels from northern Canada to the tropics and back again every +year to earn its living, as the little green heron does, is not +altogether lazy. Startle him, and he springs into the air with a loud +squawk, flapping his broad wings and trailing his greenish-yellow legs +behind him, like the storks you see painted on Japanese fans. +</p> +<p> +He and his mate have long, dark-green crests on their odd-shaped, +receding heads and some lengthened, pointed feathers between the +shoulders of their green or grayish-green hunched backs. Their figures +are rather queer. The reddish-chestnut colour on their necks fades +into the brownish-ash of their under parts, divided by a line of dark +spots on the white throat that widen on the breast. Although the +little green heron is the smallest member of this tribe of large birds +that we see in the Northern States and Canada, it is about a foot and +a half long, larger than any bird, except one of its own cousins, that +you are likely to see in its marshy haunts. +</p> +<p> +Unlike many of their kind a pair of these herons prefer to build their +rickety nests apart by themselves rather in one of those large, +sociable, noisy and noisome colonies which we <a name="260">{260}</a> associate with the +heron tribe. Flocking is sometimes a fatal habit. +</p> +<br> +<h2>BLACK-CROWNED NIGHT HERON +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Quawk; Qua Bird</i></h2> +<p> +When the night herons return to us from the South in April, they go +straight to the home of their ancestors, to which they are devotedly +attached—rickety, ramshackle heronries, mere bundles of sticks in the +tops of trees in some swamp—and begin at once to repair them. The +cuckoo's and the dove's nests are fine pieces of architecture compared +with a heron's. Is it not a wonder that the helpless heron babies do +not tumble through the loose twigs? When they are old enough to climb +around their latticed nursery, they still make no attempt to leave it, +and several more weeks must pass before they attempt to fly. If there +is an ancient heronry in your neighbourhood, as there is in mine, +don't attempt to visit the untidy, ill-smelling place on a hot day. +One would like to spray the entire colony with a deodoriser. +</p> +<p> +Thanks to the night heron's habits that keep him concealed by day when +gunners are abroad, a few large heronries still exist within an hour's +ride of New York, in spite of much persecution. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i260.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The little green heron: the smallest and most abundant member of his +tribe. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i261.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Half-grown little green herons on dress parade. +</p> +<br> +<a name="261">{261}</a> +<p> +Unlike the solitary little green cousin, the black-crowned heron +delights in company, and a hundred noisy pairs may choose to nest in +some favourite spot. How they squawk over their petty quarrels! Wilson +likened the noise to that of "two or three hundred Indians choking one +another." +</p> +<p> +Only when they have young fledglings to feed do these herons hunt for +food in broad daylight. But as the light fades they become +increasingly active and noisy; even after it is pitch dark, when the +fishermen go eeling, you may hear them <i>quawking</i> continually as they +fly up and down the creek. Big, pearly-gray birds (they stand fully +two feet high) with black-crowned heads, from which their long, +narrow, white wedding feathers fall over the black top of the back, +the night herons so harmonise with the twilight as to seem a part of +it. +<br> +<br> +<h2>AMERICAN BITTERN +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Stake-driver; Poke; Freckled Heron; Booming Bittern; +Indian Hen.</i></h2> +<p> +Even if you have never seen this shy hermit of large swamps and marshy +meadows you must know him by his remarkable "barbaric yawp." Not a +muscle does this brown and blackish and <a name="262">{262}</a> buff freckled fellow +move as he stands waiting for prey to come within striking distance of +what appears to be a dead stump. Sometimes he stands with his head +drawn in until it rests on his back; or, he may hold his head erect +and pointed upward when he looks like a sharp snag. While he meditates +pleasantly on the flavour of a coming dinner, he suddenly snaps and +gulps, filling his lungs with air, then loudly bellows forth the most +unmusical bird cry you are ever likely to hear. You may recognise it +across the marsh half a mile away or more. A nauseated child would go +through no more convulsive gestures than this happy hermit makes every +time he lifts up his voice to call, <i>pump-er-lunk, pump-er-hmk, +pump-er-lunk</i>. Still another noise has earned him one of his many +popular names because it sounds like a stake being driven into the +mud. +</p> +<p> +A booming bittern I know sits hour after hour, almost every day in +summer, year after year, on a dark, decaying pile of an old dock in +the creek. Our canoe glides over the water so silently it rarely +disturbs him. The timid bird relies on his protective colouring to +conceal him in so exposed a place and profits by his fearlessness in +broad daylight next to an excellent feeding ground. At low tide he +walks about sedately on the muddy flats treading out a dinner. +Kingfishers rattle up and down the <a name="263">{263}</a> creek, cackling rails hide in +the sedges behind it, red-winged blackbirds flute above the phalanxes +of rushes on its banks: but the bittern makes more noise, especially +toward evening, than all the other inhabitants of the swampy meadows +except the frogs, whose voices he forever silences when he can. Frogs, +legs and all, are his favourite delicacy. +</p> +<br> +<a name="264">{264}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="265">{265}</a> +<br> +<h1>CHAPTER XVIII +<br><br> +THE FASTEST FLYERS</h1> +<p class="cite"> + Canada Goose<br> + Wild Ducks<br> + Herring Gull +</p> +<br> +<a name="266">{266}</a> +<br><br> +<a name="267">{267}</a> +<br> +<h2>CANADA GOOSE</h2> +<p> +Of the millions of migrants that stream across the sky every spring +and autumn, none attract so much attention as the wild geese. How +their mellow <i>honk, honk</i> thrills one when the birds pass like ships +in the night! Such big, strong, rapid flyers have little to fear in +travelling by daylight too, but gunners have taught them the wisdom of +keeping up so high that they look like mere specks. It must be a very +dull child without imagination, who is not stirred by the flight of +birds that are launched on a journey of at least two thousand miles. +Don't you wish you were as familiar with the map as these migrants +must be? Usually geese travel in a wedge-shaped flock, headed by some +old, experienced leader; but sometimes, with their long necks +outstretched, they follow one another in Indian file and shoot across +the clouds as straight as an arrow. +</p> +<p> +Geese spend much more time on land than ducks do. If you will study +the habits of the common barnyard goose you will learn many of the +ways of its wild relations that nest too far north to be watched by +"every child." Canada geese that have been wounded by <a name="268">{268}</a> sportsmen +in the fall, can be kept on a farm perfectly contented all winter; but +when the honking flocks return from the south in March or April, they +rarely resist "the call of the wild," and away they go toward their +kin and freedom. +</p> +<br> +<h2>WILD DUCKS</h2> +<p> +Birds that spend their summers for the most part north of the United +States and travel past us faster than the fastest automobile racer or +locomotive—and an hundred miles an hour is not an uncommon speed for +ducks to fly—need have little to fear, you might suppose. But so +mercilessly are they hunted whenever they stop to rest, that few birds +are more timid. +</p> +<p> +River and pond ducks, that have the most delicious flavour because +they feed on wild rice, celery and other dainty fare, frequent +sluggish streams and shallow ponds. There they tip up their bodies in +a funny way to probe about the muddy bottoms, their heads stuck down +under water, their tails and flat, webbed feet in the air directly +above them, just as you have seen barnyard ducks stand on their heads. +They like to dabble along the shores, too, and draw out roots, worms, +seeds and tiny shellfish imbedded in the banks. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i268.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Black-crowned night heron rising from a morass. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i269.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Canada geese. +</p> +<br> +<a name="269">{269}</a> +<p> +Of course they get a good deal of mud in their mouths, but fortunately +their broad, flat bills have strainers on the sides, and merely by +shutting them tight, the mud and water are forced out of the gutters. +After nightfall they seem especially active and noisy. +</p> +<p> +In every slough where mallards, blue- and green-winged teal, widgeons, +black duck and pintails settle down to rest in autumn, gunners wait +concealed in the sedges. Decoying the sociable birds by means of +painted wooden images of ducks floating on the water near the blind, +they commence the slaughter at daybreak. But ducks are of all targets +the most difficult, perhaps, for the tyro to hit. On the slightest +alarm they bound from the water on whistling wings and are off at a +speed that only the most expert shot overtakes. No self-respecting +sportsman would touch the little wood duck—the most beautiful member +of its family group. It is as choicely coloured and marked as the +Chinese mandarin duck, and a possible possession for every one who has +a country place with woods and water on it. Unlike its relatives, the +wood duck nests in hollow trees and carries its babies to the water in +its mouth as a cat carries its kittens. +</p> +<p> +The large group of sea and bay ducks, contains the canvas-back, +red-head and other vegetarian ducks, dear to the sportsman and +epicure. These birds may, perhaps, be familiar <a name="270">{270}</a> to "every child" +as they hang by the necks in butcher-shop windows, but rarely in life. +Enormous flocks once descended upon the Chesapeake Bay region. To +Virginia and Maryland, therefore, hastened all the gunners in the East +until the canvas-back, at least, is even more rare in the sportsman's +paradise than it is on the gourmand's plate. Every kind of duck is now +served up as canvas-back. Some sea ducks, however, which are fish +eaters, have flesh too tough, rank, and oily for the table. They dive +for their food, often to a great depth, pursuing and catching fish +under water like the saw-billed mergansers or shelldrakes which form a +distinct group. The surf scoters, or black coots, so abundant off the +Atlantic coast in winter, dive constantly to feed on mussels, clams or +scallops. Naturally such athletic birds are very tough. +</p> +<p> +With the exception of the wood duck, all ducks nest on the ground. +Twigs, leaves and grasses form the rude cradle for the eggs, and, as a +final touch of devotion, the mother bird plucks feathers from her own +soft breast for the eggs to lie in. When there is any work to be done +the selfish, dandified drakes go off by themselves, leaving the entire +care of raising the family to their mates. Then they moult and +sometimes lose so many feathers they are unable to fly. But by the +time the ducklings are <a name="271">{271}</a> well grown and strong of wing, the drake +joins the family, one flock joins another, and the ducks begin their +long journey southward. But very few children, even in Canada, can +ever hope to know them in their inaccessible swampy homes. +</p> +<br> +<h2>HERRING GULL +<br><br> +<i> Called also: Winter Gull</i></h2> +<p> +"Every child" who has crossed the ocean or even a New York ferry in +winter, knows the big, pearly-gray and white gulls that come from +northern nesting grounds in November, just before the ice locks their +larder, to spend the winter about our open waterways. On the great +lakes and the larger rivers and harbours along our coast, you may see +the scattered flocks sailing about serenely on broad, strong wings, +gliding and skimming and darting with a poetry of motion few birds can +equal. There are at least three things one never tires of watching: +the blaze of a wood fire, the breaking of waves on a beach, and the +flight of a flock of gulls. +</p> +<p> +Not many years ago gulls became alarmingly scarce. Why? Because silly +girls and women, to follow fashion, trimmed their hats with gull's +wings until hundreds of thousands of these <a name="272">{272}</a> birds and their +exquisite little cousins, the terns or sea-swallows, had been +slaughtered. Then some people said the massacre must stop and happily +the law now says so too. Paid keepers patrol some of the islands where +gulls and terns nest, which is the reason why you may see ashy-brown +young gulls in almost every flock. When they mature, a deep-pearl +mantle covers their backs and wings, and their breasts, heads and +tails become snowy white. Their colouring now suggests fogs and +white-capped waves. Why protect birds that are not fit for food and +that kill no mice nor insects in the farmer's fields? is often asked. +A wise man once said "the beautiful is as useful as the useful," but +the picturesque gulls are not preserved merely to enliven marine +pictures and to please the eye of travellers. They fill the valuable +office of scavengers of the sea. Lobsters and crabs, among many other +creatures under the ocean, gulls, terns and petrels, among many +creatures over it, do for the water what the turkey buzzard does for +the land—rid it of enormous quantities of refuse. When one watches +hundreds of gulls following the garbage scows out of New York harbour, +or sailing in the wake of an ocean liner a thousand miles or more away +from land, to pick up the refuse thrown overboard from the ship's +kitchen, one realises the excellence of Dame Nature's housecleaning. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i272.jpg" border=1> +<br> +The feather-lined nest of a wild duck. +</p> +<br> +<p class="image"> +<img alt="" src="images/i273.jpg" border=1> +<br> +Sea gulls in the wake of a garbage scow cleansing New York harbour of +floating refuse. +</p> +<br> +<a name="273">{273}</a> +<p> +Gulls are greedy creatures. No sooner will one member of a flock swoop +down upon a morsel of food, than a horde of hungry companions, in hot +pursuit, chase after him to try to frighten him into dropping his +dinner. With a harsh, laughing cry, <i>akak, kak, akak, kak, kak,</i> they +wheel and float about a feeding ground for hours at a time. +</p> +<p> +And they fly incredibly far and fast. A flock that has followed an +ocean greyhound all day will settle down to sleep at night "bedded" on +the rolling water like ducks while "rocked in the cradle of the deep." +After a rest that may last till dawn, they rise refreshed, fly in the +direction of the vanished steamer and actually overtake it with +apparent ease in time to pick up the scraps from the breakfast table. +Reliable sailors say the same birds follow a ship from our shores all +the way across the Atlantic. +</p> +<a name="275">{275}</a> +<br> +<h1>INDEX</h1> +<br> +<pre> +Accenter, <a href="#58">58</a>. + +Bellbird, <a href="#12">12</a>. +Bittern, <a href="#40">40</a>, <a href="#263">263</a>. + American, <a href="#261">261</a>. + Booming, <a href="#261">261</a>, <a href="#262">262</a>. +Blackbird, <a href="#149">149</a>. + Crow, <a href="#148">148</a>. + Red-winged, <a href="#40">40</a>, <a href="#111">111</a>, <a href="#141">141</a>, <a href="#142">142</a>, <a href="#143">143</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>, <a href="#263">263</a>. + Rusty, <a href="#143">143</a>. + Swamp, <a href="#141">141</a>. + Thrush, <a href="#143">143</a>. +Bluebird, iii, vi, <a href="#9">9</a>, <a href="#10">10</a>, <a href="#11">11</a>, <a href="#12">12</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#36">36</a>, <a href="#97">97</a>, <a href="#104">104</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#231">231</a>. +Blue Jay, <a href="#23">23</a>, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#79">79</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#84">84</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#134">134</a>, <a href="#153">153</a>, <a href="#156">156</a>, <a href="#157">157</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>, <a href="#217">217</a>, + <a href="#227">227</a>, <a href="#232">232</a>. +Bobolink, <a href="#137">137</a>, <a href="#138">138</a>, <a href="#139">139</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#150">150</a>, <a href="#190">190</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>, <a href="#256">256</a>. +Bob-white, <a href="#144">144</a>, <a href="#218">218</a>, <a href="#237">237</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>, <a href="#239">239</a>, <a href="#240">240</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>. +Bog-bird, <a href="#252">252</a>. +Bog-sucker, <a href="#252">252</a>. +Bonnet-bird, <a href="#82">82</a>. +Bull-bat, <a href="#177">177</a>. +Bunting, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Bay-winged, <a href="#113">113</a>. + Indigo, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>, <a href="#169">169</a>. + Snow, <a href="#124">124</a>. +Butcherbird, <a href="#79">79</a>, <a href="#80">80</a>. +Buzzard, <a href="#214">214</a>. + Turkey, <a href="#213">213</a>, <a href="#272">272</a>. + +Canary, <a href="#115">115</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>. + Wild, <a href="#53">53</a>, <a href="#124">124</a>, <a href="#125">125</a>. +Canvas-back, <a href="#270">270</a>. +Cardinal, <a href="#23">23</a>, <a href="#38">38</a>, <a href="#48">48</a>, <a href="#72">72</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#87">87</a>, <a href="#133">133</a>, <a href="#134">134</a>. +Catbird, <a href="#15">15</a>, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#44">44</a>, <a href="#45">45</a>, <a href="#46">46</a>, <a href="#47">47</a>, <a href="#49">49</a>. <a href="#72">72</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>. +Cedarbird, <a href="#82">82</a>, <a href="#84">84</a>, <a href="#85">85</a>, <a href="#86">86</a>. +Chat, Yellow-breasted, <a href="#47">47</a>, <a href="#55">55</a>, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#64">64</a>, <a href="#74">74</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>. +Chebec, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#170">170</a>, <a href="#171">171</a>. +Cherry-bird, <a href="#82">82</a>. +Chewink, <a href="#129">129</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#132">132</a>. +Chickadee, <a href="#19">19</a>, <a href="#20">20</a>, <a href="#21">21</a>, <a href="#22">22</a>, <a href="#23">23</a>, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#25">25</a>, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#193">193</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>. +Chimneyswift, <a href="#180">180</a>. +Chippy, <a href="#116">116</a>, <a href="#117">117</a>, <a href="#118">118</a>. + Winter, <a href="#119">119</a>. +Chuckle-head, <a href="#258">258</a>. +Chuck-will's-widow, <a href="#177">177</a>. +Clape, <a href="#199">199</a>. +Coot, <a href="#221">221</a>. + Black, <a href="#270">270</a>. +Cowbird, <a href="#56">56</a>, <a href="#57">57</a>, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#74">74</a>, <a href="#139">139</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#141">141</a>, <a href="#149">149</a>, <a href="#150">150</a>, <a href="#177">177</a>, <a href="#180">180</a>, <a href="#207">207</a>. +Creeper, Brown, <a href="#26">26</a>, <a href="#58">58</a>. +Crow, iv, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#149">149</a>. + American, <a href="#153">153</a>, <a href="#154">154</a>, <a href="#155">155</a>, <a href="#156">156</a>, <a href="#157">157</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>, <a href="#230">230</a>. + Carrion, <a href="#214">214</a>. + Rain, <a href="#205">205</a>. +Cuckoo, <a href="#207">207</a>, <a href="#210">210</a>, <a href="#236">236</a>, <a href="#260">260</a>. + Black-billed, <a href="#205">205</a>. + Yellow-billed, v, <a href="#43">43</a>, <a href="#205">205</a>, <a href="#206">206</a>. + +Darter, Big Blue, <a href="#219">219</a>. + Little Blue, <a href="#219">219</a>. +Devil Downhead, <a href="#25">25</a>. +Dove, <a href="#236">236</a>, <a href="#237">237</a>, <a href="#260">260</a>. + Carolina, <a href="#235">235</a>. + Mourning, <a href="#235">235</a>. +Duck, v, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#221">221</a>, <a href="#271">271</a>, <a href="#273">273</a>. + Black, <a href="#269">269</a>. + Canvas-back, <a href="#269">269</a>. + Chinese mandarin, <a href="#269">269</a>. + Red-headed, <a href="#269">269</a>. + Wild, <a href="#268">268</a>. + Wood, <a href="#269">269</a>, <a href="#270">270</a>. + +Eagle, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#221">221</a>, <a href="#222">222</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>. + Bald, <a href="#220">220</a>, <a href="#225">225</a>. + Golden, <a href="#222">222</a>. + +Falcon, Rusty-crowned, <a href="#223">223</a>. +Finch, <a href="#108">108</a>. + Grass, <a href="#113">113</a>. + Purple, <a href="#126">126</a>, <a href="#127">127</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>. +Firebird, <a href="#146">146</a>, <a href="#193">193</a>. +Flicker, <a href="#144">144</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#193">193</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>, <a href="#199">199</a>, <a href="#200">200</a>, <a href="#201">201</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>, +Flycatcher, <a href="#46">46</a>, <a href="#66">66</a>, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#162">162</a>, <a href="#196">196</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>. + Crested, <a href="#82">82</a>, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#165">165</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>, <a href="#169">169</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>. + Dusky, <a href="#166">166</a>, <a href="#170">170</a>. + Least, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#170">170</a>, <a href="#171">171</a>. + +Goatsucker, <a href="#179">179</a>. +Goldfinch, v, <a href="#53">53</a>, <a href="#85">85</a>. + American, <a href="#124">124</a>, <a href="#125">125</a>, <a href="#126">126</a>, <a href="#127">127</a>, <a href="#139">139</a>. +Goose, <a href="#221">221</a>. + Canada, <a href="#267">267</a>. +Goshawk, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#220">220</a>, +Grackle, <a href="#143">143</a>, <a href="#150">150</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>. + Bronzed, <a href="#148">148</a>. + Purple, <a href="#148">148</a>. +Grosbeak, <a href="#108">108</a>. + Blue, <a href="#128">128</a>. + Cardinal, <a href="#133">133</a>. + Pine, <a href="#29">29</a>. + Red-breasted, <a href="#131">131</a>. + Rose-breasted, <a href="#114">114</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>, <a href="#132">132</a>, <a href="#133">133</a>. <a href="#134">134</a>. +Grouse, <a href="#192">192</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>, <a href="#241">241</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>. + Ruffed, <a href="#237">237</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>, <a href="#240">240</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>. +Gull, <a href="#221">221</a>, <a href="#225">225</a>, <a href="#272">272</a>, <a href="#273">273</a>. + Herring, <a href="#271">271</a>. + Winter, <a href="#271">271</a>. + +Halcyon, <a href="#208">208</a>. +Hang-nest, <a href="#146">146</a>. +Hawk, iv, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#162">162</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>, <a href="#221">221</a>, <a href="#222">222</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>, <a href="#226">226</a>, <a href="#227">227</a>, <a href="#230">230</a>, <a href="#239">239</a>. + American Sparrow, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#223">223</a>. + Chicken, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#218">218</a>, <a href="#219">219</a>. + Cooper's, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#219">219</a>. + Fish, <a href="#208">208</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>, <a href="#225">225</a>. + Hen, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#216">216</a>, <a href="#218">218</a>. + Killy, <a href="#223">223</a>. + Marsh, <a href="#229">229</a>. + Mosquito, <a href="#177">177</a>. + Mouse, <a href="#223">223</a>. + Partridge, <a href="#220">220</a>. + Red, <a href="#218">218</a>. + Red-shouldered, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#216">216</a>, <a href="#217">217</a>, <a href="#218">218</a>, <a href="#220">220</a>. + Red-tailed, <a href="#218">218</a>, <a href="#220">220</a>. + Sharp-shinned, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#219">219</a>. + Winter, <a href="#215">215</a>. +Hen-hawk, Blue, <a href="#220">220</a>. +Hen, Indian, <a href="#261">261</a>. + Marsh, <a href="#255">255</a>. + Heron, <a href="#257">257</a>, <a href="#258">258</a>, <a href="#259">259</a>, <a href="#261">261</a>. + Black-crowned Night, <a href="#260">260</a>, <a href="#261">261</a>, + Freckled, <a href="#261">261</a>. + Great Blue, <a href="#256">256</a>. + Little Green, <a href="#258">258</a>, <a href="#259">259</a>. +High-hole, <a href="#199">199</a>. +Hummingbird, vi, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#170">170</a>, <a href="#176">176</a>, <a href="#190">190</a>, <a href="#201">201</a>, <a href="#236">236</a>. + Ruby-throated, <a href="#183">183</a>, <a href="#184">184</a>, <a href="#185">185</a>, <a href="#186">186</a>. + +Indigo-bird, <a href="#128">128</a>. + +Jay, Canada, <a href="#157">157</a>, <a href="#158">158</a>. +Jenny Wren, <a href="#236">236</a>. +Joree, <a href="#129">129</a>. +Junco, <a href="#120">120</a>, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#123">123</a>, <a href="#124">124</a>. + +Kingbird, v, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>, <a href="#164">164</a>, <a href="#165">165</a>, <a href="#223">223</a>. +Kingfisher, <a href="#40">40</a>, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#102">102</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#210">210</a>, <a href="#262">262</a>. + Belted, <a href="#208">208</a>. +Kinglet, <a href="#21">21</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>. + Golden-crowned, <a href="#28">28</a>. + Ruby-crowned, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>. + +Lark, Old-field, <a href="#143">143</a>. +Lettuce-bird, <a href="#124">124</a>. +Linnet, <a href="#126">126</a>. +Logger-head, <a href="#79">79</a>, <a href="#81">81</a>, <a href="#82">82</a>. + +Mallard, <a href="#269">269</a>. +Martin, <a href="#104">104</a>. + Bee, <a href="#163">163</a>. + Purple, <a href="#95">95</a>, <a href="#96">96</a>, <a href="#97">97</a>, <a href="#98">98</a>. + Sand, <a href="#101">101</a>. +Mavis, <a href="#41">41</a>, +Maybird, <a href="#137">137</a>. +Meadowlark, <a href="#113">113</a>, <a href="#143">143</a>, <a href="#144">144</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#150">150</a>, <a href="#178">178</a>, <a href="#199">199</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>. +Meatbird, <a href="#157">157</a>, +Merganser, <a href="#270">270</a>. +Mockingbird, <a href="#45">45</a>, <a href="#46">46</a>, <a href="#47">47</a>, <a href="#48">48</a>, <a href="#49">49</a>, <a href="#55">55</a>, <a href="#79">79</a>. + French, <a href="#41">41</a>. + Yellow, <a href="#65">65</a>. +Moose-bird, <a href="#157">157</a>. + +Nighthawk, <a href="#93">93</a>, <a href="#176">176</a>, <a href="#177">177</a>, <a href="#179">179</a>, <a href="#182">182</a>. +Nightingale, <a href="#49">49</a>. + Virginia, <a href="#133">133</a>. +Nightjar, <a href="#177">177</a>. +Nuthatch, <a href="#21">21</a>, <a href="#26">26</a>, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#58">58</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>. + Red-breasted, <a href="#26">26</a>, <a href="#28">28</a>. + White-breasted, <a href="#25">25</a>, <a href="#27">27</a>. + +Oriole, vi, <a href="#88">88</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#148">148</a>, <a href="#206">206</a>. + Baltimore, <a href="#65">65</a>, <a href="#72">72</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#146">146</a>, <a href="#147">147</a>, <a href="#149">149</a>, <a href="#150">150</a>. + Golden, <a href="#146">146</a>. + Orchard, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#146">146</a>, <a href="#147">147</a>. +Ortolan, <a href="#137">137</a>. +Osprey, <a href="#221">221</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>, <a href="#225">225</a>. +Oven-bird, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#54">54</a>, <a href="#58">58</a>, <a href="#59">59</a>, <a href="#61">61</a>, <a href="#66">66</a>, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#177">177</a>. +Owl, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#215">215</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>, <a href="#225">225</a>, <a href="#226">226</a>, <a href="#227">227</a>, <a href="#231">231</a>. + Barn, <a href="#227">227</a>, <a href="#228">228</a>. + Barred, <a href="#230">230</a>. + Hoot, <a href="#230">230</a>. + Long-eared, <a href="#229">229</a>. + Marsh, <a href="#229">229</a>. + Meadow, <a href="#229">229</a>. + Monkey-faced, <a href="#227">227</a>. + Screech, <a href="#230">230</a>, <a href="#232">232</a>. + Short-eared, <a href="#229">229</a>. +Ox-eye, <a href="#251">251</a>. + +Partridge, <a href="#237">237</a>, <a href="#240">240</a>. +Peabody-bird, <a href="#120">120</a>. +Peep, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Peto-bird, <a href="#23">23</a>. +Petrel, <a href="#272">272</a>. +Pewee, <a href="#129">129</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#235">235</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>. + Bridge, <a href="#166">166</a>. + Water, <a href="#166">166</a>. + Wood, <a href="#161">161</a>,<a href="#169">169</a>,<a href="#170">170</a>,<a href="#171">171</a>. +Phalarope, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Pheasant, <a href="#237">237</a>. +Phoebe, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>, <a href="#167">167</a>, <a href="#168">168</a>, <a href="#170">170</a>, <a href="#236">236</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>. +Pigeon, <a href="#201">201</a>, <a href="#236">236</a>. + Wild, <a href="#235">235</a>. +Pintail, <a href="#269">269</a>. +Plover, <a href="#251">251</a>. + Black-breasted, <a href="#247">247</a>. + Golden, <a href="#247">247</a>. + Killdeer, <a href="#247">247</a>, <a href="#248">248</a>. + Piping, <a href="#247">247</a>. + Ring-necked, <a href="#248">248</a>, <a href="#249">249</a>, <a href="#251">251</a>. + Semipalmated, <a href="#248">248</a>. + Wilson's, <a href="#247">247</a>. +Poke, <a href="#258">258</a>, <a href="#261">261</a>. + +Quail, <a href="#237">237</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>, <a href="#240">240</a>. +Qua-bird, <a href="#260">260</a>. +Quawk, <a href="#260">260</a>. + +Rail, <a href="#40">40</a>, <a href="#111">111</a>, <a href="#254">254</a>, <a href="#255">255</a>, <a href="#262">262</a>. + Carolina, <a href="#256">256</a>. +Red-bird, Black-winged, <a href="#86">86</a>. + Crested, <a href="#133">133</a>. +Redstart, <a href="#65">65</a>, <a href="#66">66</a>, <a href="#147">147</a>. +Reedbird, <a href="#137">137</a>, <a href="#138">138</a>. +Ricebird, <a href="#137">137</a>, <a href="#138">138</a>. +Robin, iii, vi, <a href="#5">5</a>, <a href="#6">6</a>, <a href="#7">7</a>, <a href="#8">8</a>, <a href="#9">9</a>, <a href="#11">11</a>, <a href="#12">12</a>, <a href="#13">13</a>, <a href="#15">15</a>, <a href="#46">46</a>, <a href="#79">79</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#86">86</a>, <a href="#87">87</a>, + <a href="#107">107</a>, <a href="#117">117</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>, <a href="#134">134</a>, <a href="#143">143</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#175">175</a>, <a href="#197">197</a>, <a href="#200">200</a>, <a href="#205">205</a>, <a href="#223">223</a>, <a href="#232">232</a>, <a href="#247">247</a>, <a href="#255">255</a>. + Golden, <a href="#146">146</a>. + Ground, <a href="#129">129</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Redbreast, <a href="#5">5</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Wood, <a href="#12">12</a>. + +Sandpiper, <a href="#249">249</a>, <a href="#250">250</a>. + Least, <a href="#249">249</a>, <a href="#251">251</a>. + Semipalmated, <a href="#251">251</a>. + Spotted, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Sapsucker, <a href="#195">195</a>, <a href="#196">196</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>. + Yellow-bellied, <a href="#194">194</a>. +Scoter, Surf, <a href="#270">270</a>. +Sea-swallow, <a href="#272">272</a>. +Shelldrakes, <a href="#270">270</a>. +Shrike, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#81">81</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>, <a href="#223">223</a>. + Northern, <a href="#79">79</a>, <a href="#81">81</a>, <a href="#82">82</a>. +Silk-tail, <a href="#82">82</a>. +Skylark, <a href="#137">137</a>. +Snipe, <a href="#251">251</a>, <a href="#253">253</a>. + Big-headed, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Blind, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Mud, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Wall-eyed, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Whistling, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Wilson's, <a href="#252">252</a>, <a href="#254">254</a>. + Wood, <a href="#252">252</a>. +Snow-bird, Slate-coloured, <a href="#123">123</a>. +Snowflake, <a href="#124">124</a>. +Sora, <a href="#256">256</a>. +Sparrow, <a href="#5">5</a>, <a href="#10">10</a>, <a href="#35">35</a>, <a href="#36">36</a>, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#61">61</a>, <a href="#66">66</a>, <a href="#70">70</a>, <a href="#80">80</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#86">86</a>, + <a href="#104">104</a>, <a href="#107">107</a>, <a href="#127">127</a>, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#132">132</a>, <a href="#138">138</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#183">183</a>, <a href="#242">242</a>, <a href="#251">251</a>. + Canada, <a href="#120">120</a>. + Chipping, iii, <a href="#20">20</a>, <a href="#112">112</a>, <a href="#116">116</a>, <a href="#117">117</a>, <a href="#119">119</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Door-step, <a href="#116">116</a>. + English, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#27">27</a>, <a href="#33">33</a>, <a href="#53">53</a>, <a href="#59">59</a>, <a href="#64">64</a>, <a href="#81">81</a>, <a href="#97">97</a>, <a href="#108">108</a>, <a href="#110">110</a>,<a href="#111">111</a>, <a href="#114">114</a>, <a href="#115">115</a>, + <a href="#116">116</a>, <a href="#119">119</a>, <a href="#121">121</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#161">161</a>, <a href="#163">163</a>, <a href="#192">192</a>, <a href="#197">197</a>, <a href="#248">248</a>. + Field, <a href="#112">112</a>, <a href="#114">114</a>, <a href="#119">119</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Fox, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#123">123</a>. + Hair, <a href="#116">116</a>. + Song, <a href="#39">39</a>, <a href="#109">109</a>, <a href="#110">110</a>,<a href="#111">111</a>, <a href="#112">112</a>, <a href="#113">113</a>, <a href="#127">127</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. + Swamp, <a href="#111">111</a>, <a href="#112">112</a>. + Tree, <a href="#119">119</a>, <a href="#120">120</a>. + Vesper, <a href="#113">113</a>, <a href="#114">114</a>. + White-crowned, <a href="#121">121</a>. + White-throated, <a href="#120">120</a>, <a href="#121">121</a>, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>. +Stake-driver, <a href="#261">261</a>. +Starling, Meadow, <a href="#143">143</a>. +Stint, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Swallow, <a href="#93">93</a>, <a href="#94">94</a>, <a href="#95">95</a>, <a href="#96">96</a>, <a href="#97">97</a>, <a href="#108">108</a>, <a href="#176">176</a>, <a href="#182">182</a>, <a href="#183">183</a>. + Bank, <a href="#101">101</a>, <a href="#102">102</a>, <a href="#210">210</a>. + Barn, <a href="#98">98</a>, <a href="#99">99</a>, <a href="#100">100</a>, <a href="#101">101</a>. + Chimney, <a href="#180">180</a>. + Eave or Cliff, <a href="#100">100</a>, <a href="#101">101</a>, <a href="#104">104</a>. + Rough-winged, <a href="#102">102</a>. + Sand, <a href="#101">101</a>, + Tree, <a href="#103">103</a>, <a href="#104">104</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>. + White-breasted, <a href="#103">103</a>. +Swift, <a href="#97">97</a>, <a href="#176">176</a>, <a href="#180">180</a>, <a href="#181">181</a>, <a href="#182">182</a>, <a href="#183">183</a>. + Chimney, <a href="#93">93</a>, <a href="#96">96</a>, <a href="#190">190</a>. + +Tanager, Scarlet, <a href="#48">48</a>, <a href="#86">86</a>, <a href="#87">87</a>, <a href="#88">88</a>, <a href="#89">89</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>, <a href="#139">139</a>. + Summer, <a href="#89">89</a>. +Teacher, <a href="#58">58</a>, <a href="#59">59</a>, <a href="#60">60</a>. +Teal, Blue-winged, <a href="#269">269</a>. + Green-winged, <a href="#269">269</a>. +Teeter, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Teeter-snipe, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Teeter-tail, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Tern, <a href="#272">272</a>. +Thistlebird, <a href="#124">124</a>. +Thrasher, Brown, <a href="#15">15</a>, <a href="#41">41</a>, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#43">43</a>, <a href="#44">44</a>, <a href="#45">45</a>, <a href="#49">49</a>, <a href="#112">112</a>. +Thrush, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#43">43</a>, <a href="#55">55</a>, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#153">153</a>. + Brown, <a href="#41">41</a>. + Golden-crowned, <a href="#58">58</a>. + Ground, <a href="#41">41</a>, <a href="#44">44</a>. + Hermit, <a href="#12">12</a>. + Long, <a href="#41">41</a>. + Migratory, <a href="#5">5</a>. + Red, <a href="#41">41</a>. + Red-breasted, <a href="#5">5</a>. + Song, <a href="#12">12</a>. + Wilson's, <a href="#12">12</a>, <a href="#14">14</a>. + Wood, <a href="#12">12</a>, <a href="#13">13</a>, <a href="#14">14</a>, <a href="#15">15</a>. +Tilt-up, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Timber Doodle, <a href="#252">252</a>. +Tip-up, <a href="#251">251</a>. +Titmouse, <a href="#21">21</a>, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#25">25</a>, <a href="#134">134</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>. + Black-capped, <a href="#19">19</a>. + Crested, <a href="#23">23</a>, <a href="#38">38</a>. + Tufted, <a href="#23">23</a>, <a href="#26">26</a>, <a href="#82">82</a>. +Tomtit, Crested, <a href="#23">23</a>. +Towhee, <a href="#112">112</a>, <a href="#122">122</a>, <a href="#129">129</a>, <a href="#130">130</a>, <a href="#131">131</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>. +Tree Mouse, <a href="#25">25</a>. +Turkey, <a href="#214">214</a>. +Turnstone, <a href="#251">251</a>. + +Veery, <a href="#14">14</a>, <a href="#15">15</a>. +Vireo, <a href="#69">69</a>, <a href="#70">70</a>, <a href="#82">82</a>, <a href="#95">95</a>, <a href="#114">114</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>, <a href="#162">162</a>, <a href="#171">171</a>. + Red-eyed, v, <a href="#71">71</a>, <a href="#72">72</a>, <a href="#74">74</a>, <a href="#75">75</a>, <a href="#129">129</a>, <a href="#169">169</a>. + Warbling, <a href="#74">74</a>, <a href="#75">75</a>. + White-eyed, v, <a href="#72">72</a>, <a href="#73">73</a>, <a href="#74">74</a>. + Yellow-throated, <a href="#74">74</a>. +Vulture, <a href="#214">214</a>. + Black, <a href="#214">214</a>. + Turkey, <a href="#213">213</a>. + +Warbler, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#54">54</a>, <a href="#55">55</a>, <a href="#59">59</a>, <a href="#64">64</a>, <a href="#65">65</a>, <a href="#66">66</a>, <a href="#69">69</a>, <a href="#70">70</a>, <a href="#95">95</a>, <a href="#162">162</a>. + Black and White Creeping, <a href="#57">57</a>, <a href="#58">58</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>. + Blackburnian, <a href="#66">66</a>. + Black-masked, Ground, <a href="#61">61</a>. + Yellow, v, <a href="#53">53</a>, <a href="#54">54</a>, <a href="#55">55</a>, <a href="#56">56</a>, <a href="#57">57</a>, <a href="#62">62</a>, <a href="#63">63</a>, <a href="#125">125</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>. +Waxwing, <a href="#23">23</a>. + Cedar, <a href="#82">82</a>, <a href="#83">83</a>, <a href="#85">85</a>, <a href="#126">126</a>, <a href="#145">145</a>. +Whip-poor-will, <a href="#93">93</a>, <a href="#175">175</a>, <a href="#176">176</a>, <a href="#177">177</a>, <a href="#178">178</a>, <a href="#179">179</a>, <a href="#182">182</a>, <a href="#238">238</a>. +Whiskey Jack, <a href="#157">157</a>. +Widgeon, <a href="#269">269</a>. +Wren, iii, <a href="#19">19</a>, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#29">29</a>, <a href="#30">30</a>, <a href="#34">34</a>, <a href="#35">35</a>, <a href="#36">36</a>, <a href="#37">37</a>, <a href="#42">42</a>, <a href="#43">43</a>, <a href="#45">45</a>, <a href="#49">49</a>, <a href="#104">104</a>, <a href="#167">167</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>. + Carolina, <a href="#37">37</a>, <a href="#38">38</a>. + House, <a href="#33">33</a>, <a href="#97">97</a>. + Marsh, <a href="#39">39</a>, <a href="#40">40</a>, <a href="#41">41</a>, <a href="#111">111</a>. + Winter, <a href="#37">37</a>. +Woodcock, <a href="#128">128</a>, <a href="#252">252</a>, <a href="#253">253</a>, <a href="#254">254</a>. +Woodpecker, iv, <a href="#22">22</a>, <a href="#24">24</a>, <a href="#26">26</a>, <a href="#28">28</a>, <a href="#57">57</a>, <a href="#73">73</a>, <a href="#140">140</a>, <a href="#166">166</a>, + <a href="#181">181</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#190">190</a>, <a href="#192">192</a>, <a href="#194">194</a>, <a href="#195">195</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>, <a href="#224">224</a>, <a href="#227">227</a>, <a href="#230">230</a>, <a href="#232">232</a>, <a href="#241">241</a>, <a href="#252">252</a>. + Downy, <a href="#57">57</a>, <a href="#189">189</a>, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#192">192</a>, <a href="#193">193</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>. + Golden-winged, <a href="#199">199</a>. + Hairy, <a href="#191">191</a>, <a href="#192">192</a>, <a href="#193">193</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>. + Red-headed, <a href="#197">197</a>, <a href="#198">198</a>, <a href="#199">199</a>. + +Yellow-bird, Black-winged, <a href="#124">124</a>. + Summer, <a href="#53">53</a>. +Yellowhammer, <a href="#199">199</a>. +Yellow-throat, Maryland, <a href="#54">54</a>, <a href="#61">61</a>, <a href="#111">111</a>. +Yucker, <a href="#199">199</a>. +</pre> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Birds Every Child Should Know, by Neltje Blanchan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW *** + +***** This file should be named 38233-h.htm or 38233-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/2/3/38233/ + 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