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ss BIRDS OF LAKESIDE AND -PRAIRIE. By Edward B. Clark. This book contains field
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mi, i THE FAIRIES THAT RUN THE WORLD AND HOW THEY DO IT. By Ernest Vincent
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i
BIRDS AND NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY,
THE CAT-BIRD.
The tufted gold of the sassafras,
And the gold of the spicewood-bush,
Bewilder the ways of the forest pass,
And brighten the underbrush:
The white-starred drifts of the wild-plum tree,
And the haw with its pearly plumes,
And the red-bud, misted rosily,
Dazzle the woodland glooms.
And I hear the song of the cat-bird wake
[the boughs o’ the gnarled wild-crab,
Or there where the snows of the dogwood shake,
That the silvery sunbeams stab:
And it seems to me that a magic lies
In the crystal sweet of its notes,
That a myriad blossoms open their eyes
As. its strain above them floats.
i*see the bluebell’s blue unclose,
And the trillium’s stainless white;
The bird-foot violet’s purple and rose,
And the celandine like a light:
And I see the eyes of the bluet wink,
And the heads of the whitehearts nod;
And the baby mouths of the woodland-pink
And the sorrel salute the sod.
And this, me seems, does the cat-bird say,
As the blossoms crowd i’ the sun:—
“Up, up! and out! oh, out and away!
Up, up! and out, each one!
Sweethearts! sweethearts! oh, sweet, sweet, sweet!
Come listen and hark to me!
The Spring, the Spring, with her fragrant feet,
Is passing this way! Oh, hark to the beat
Of her bee-like heart! Oh, sweet, sweet, sweet!
Come! open your eyes and see!
See, see, see!” MapiIson CawEIN.
49
THE HERMIT THRUSH.
(Turdus aonalaschke pallasit.)
Among the perching birds, no family
is better known or more thought of than
that of the thrushes. With their bright
colors, sprightly manners and cheerful
song they are among the most welcome
of the avian harbingers of spring. One
of the most interesting species of this
family is the Hermit Thrush. Its song
is wonderfully sweet and seems to hold
one in a strange fascination. Reverend
J. H. Langille, in his charming little vol-
ume, “Our Birds in Their Haunts,” thus
describes the effect of the song of the
Hermit Thrush upon him:
“The song begins with a note not un-
like the vowel O, passing through sev-
eral intervals of the musical scale in a
smooth, upward slide, and in a tone of
indescribable melodiousness, and contin-
ues in a shake which gradually softens
into silence, thus giving a most pleasing
diminuendo. Put into syllables it is well
represented by Mr. Burrough’s phrase,
‘O-o0-0-0, holy-holy-holy holy’; and I
sometimes thought I heard it say, O-o-o-
o, seraph, seraph, seraph, seraph. Again
I could discover no suggestion of articu-
late language, but only that soul-lan-
guage of pure melody, which speaks di-
rectly to the heart without the ruder in-
cumbrance of speech. With short paus-
es, this dinunuendo is repeated any num-
ber of times, but always on a different
key and with a different modulation.
Now it is on the main chords, now on
the intermediates, and now on the most
delicately chosen and inspiring chromat-
ics. When pitched high, the shake is
through a shorter interval, and in a
weaker tone. The lower-toned modula-
tions are always the sweetest. Some-
times the tones are so soft as to sound
far away, though the bird is quite near;
and again the notes are very penetrating,
and may be heard for quite a distance,
especially when aided by the enchanting
echoes of tall, dense forests. The tone
of the melody is neither of flute, nor
50
hautboy nor vox-humana, but something
of inimitable sweetness, and never heard
away from the fragrant arcades of the
forest. ‘Spiritual serenity,’ or a refined,
poetic, religious devotion, is indeed the
sentiment of the song. He whose trou-
bled spirit cannot be soothed or comfort-
ed, or whose religious feelings cannot be
awakened by this song, in twilight, must
lack the full sense of hearing, or that
inner sense of the soul which catches
nature’s most significant voices.”
Like the other members of the thrush
family the Hermit Thrush may be seen
during its migration on the ground
searching for food. When disturbed
it flies into a nearby tree and perches
on a limb not far from the ground
where it quietly and fearlessly eyes
the intruder.. Ji * not ‘motestegen
will again fly to the ground and
continue its search for food, running
about with a quick, graceful motion not
unlike that of the robin. The favorite
haunts of this Thrush are in the open
woodlands, near the banks of streams
and among the bushes which afford a
ready and a safe retreat.
The food of the Hermit Thrush con-
sists of ants, beetles, caterpillars and
grasshoppers. In. Bulletin Number 3, of
the Illinois State Laboratory of Natural
History, Professor S. A. Forbes records
the following data: Eighty-four per
cent of the food is insects, four per cent
spiders and twelve per cent thousand-
legs. The insect food was made up as
follows: Ants, fifteen per cent; butter-
flies and caterpillars, nineteen per cent;
beetles, thirty per cent; hemiptera or
bugs, eight per cent; grasshoppers, eight
per cent. From these data it will be seen
that the Hermit Thrush is a very valua-
ble bird and should be rigorously protect-
ed by farmers and agriculturists.
The Hermit Thrush winters in the
South and arrives in the latitude of Chi-
cago about the first week in April, and in
HERMIT ERO SEe COPYRIGHT 1900, BY A. W. MUMFORD, CH!CAGO
(Turdus aonalaschkae paliassi)
3 Life-size.
New England about the middle of April.
It pursues its migration leisurely and
does not arrive in its nesting region until
about the middle of May. A few nest in
the northern part of the United States,
but the great majority choose their nest-
ing site in the forests of Northern Maine
and northward into Canada, in which lo-
calities only can its song be heard.
The Hermit Thrush builds its nest on
or near the ground, in a secluded spot.
It is large and made of leaves, grasses,
mosses and pieces of bark, and is lined
with finer pieces of the same material.
Unlike the wood thrush it uses no mud
in the construction of its nest. Writers
seem to differ° somewhat in describing
the location of the nest, some stating that
it is built in very low scrubby trees or
bushes, quite near the ground, while oth-
ers state that it is sunken into the ground
among the plants or ferns of the forest.
It is probable that the nesting site varies
im different localities. Four eggs’ are
laid, of a pale, greenish-blue color, which
measure three-fifths by nine-tenths of an
inch.
From its retiring habits the Hermit
Whetish is mere rarely seen than “the
other members of the thrush family, as
the wood thrush and Wilson’s thrush,
and for this reason it has received its
name of “Hermit.” It is known under
a variety of names, the more noteworthy
being Ground Swamp Robin, Swamp
noee. Grouud Gleaner, “Tree Topper
and Seed Sower. It may be easily dis-
tinguished by its bright reddish or tawny
tail, it being the only thrush with the tail
brighter than the back.
The Hermit Thrush starts on its
southward migration late in September
and spends the winter in the Southern
part, of the? United. States, and. as’ far
north as Pennsylvania and Illinois. The
range includes the Eastern part of the
United States, from the Gulf Coast to
the mouth of the St. Lawrence River and
Manitoba. To the west and north, as far
as the Arctic circle, the Hermit Thrush
is represented by several varieties, the
dwarf hermit thrush being found on the
Pacific Coast-and the Audubon’s hermit
thrush in the Rocky Mountain region.
These varieties breed far to the north
and winter in Mexico and Central Amer-
ica.
CoLLINs THURBER.
THE HERMIT THRUSH.
The glory of the sunset sky
Fades into violet and gray
As from the wooded copse near by
A voice in music floats away.
It soars on wings of rapturous flight ;
It trills with undertones of pain;
It languishes to reach the light,
Then mounts again.
It tells of all things fair to see,
Till wrong and sorrow seem in vain;
It breaths of all I long to be,
It whispers of immortal gain;
So silence falls, as fades the light
And deeper grows the purple shade,
While on the altar of the night
My heart is laid.
53
= fh pige With: LINN.
AN AUNT JANE STORY.
CURIOUS PLANTS.—PART I.
“Oh, girls, come, here: ) called “unt
Jane, from over the garden fence, foule
children who were playing tennis on the
lawn. ‘‘Do come here and see what a
perfect treasure my friend has sent me.’
“Pretty soon, Auntie; we are almost
through the game,” was the response.
A few moments later, both girls and
boys were gathered in the grapevine ar-
bor, around a flower-pot which contained
the remarkable gift.
“It is Drosera, or Sundew,
Aunt Jane. “I have been wanting to see
a specimen of it ever since I learned it
was so famous that its biography has
been written, a poem composed in its
honor, and its picture taken by various
artists.”
“Just sit down here in this garden-
chair, Aunt Jane; we will all get into
the hammocks and will keep ever so still
while you tell us all about ‘Sundew,’ and
any other curious flower of your
acquaintance,” coaxed Alice, in her most
persuasive tone, as she arranged the
cushion, and drew Aunt Jane toward the
chair.
“Children, I won’t deceive you. I will
confess at once that this wonderful new
acquaintance of mine is very wicked.”
“Wicked! Aunt Jane; will it poison
your?”
“Oh, noy-iteavon t Hurt” me, Or vou,
either, but it has its victims neverthe-
less, and has acquired its fame in conse-
quence of its moral obliquity.”
a can it have done! The red-
dish-leaved, odd-looking plant, does not
seem to have a very villainous expres-
sion,’ said Alice, as she took another
survey of Drosera.
“Look closely,”
the round, flat leaves;
with red elands, and these
mouths are carnivorous.”
said Aunt Jane,
they are covered
‘red-lipped’
explained
-insect it holds fast and uses.
Ant |
54
“T thought animals were carnivorous,
not flowers,” said John. “Who ever
heard of flowers eating flesh? They have
no teeth.”
“No; but the leaf of the Drosera se-
cretes a glutinous substance, like honey,
which attracts insects. When a leaf is
touched, a tendril around the edge of it
closes it up securely, and the helpless maz
tim becomes food for the plant.”
“The poet was quite right, then, in
saying the leaf has ‘mouths,’ ” observed
Alice.
“Yes, poets are often happy in their
choice of terms, which are descriptive of_
natural objects.”
“Do tell us why Drosera is called
‘Sundew’?” Edith inquired.
“Because the clear fluid it exudes glit-
ters like dewdrops. Naturalists have es-
timated that each leaf of Drosera aver-
ages two hundred drops of this secretion.
It is a curious fact that ‘Sundew’ will let
go any other substance, such a strip or
a stone, when it closes upon it; but an
As John-
nie seems to have some doubts upon the
subject of carnivorous plants, I must tell
him about ‘Venus’ Fly Trap.’ ”
“Do,” cried John; “you make flowers
almost as interesting as wolves.”
“Hear that boy comparing flowers and
wolves!” cried Bird. “I should think he
would know better.” .
“Well, now, why shouldn’t I? Aunt
Jane says that they ‘eat things up,’ and
so do wolves. ‘There is one point of re-
semblance, at least.”
“You would never imagine,” contin-
ued Aunt Jane, “such a gay, innocent-
looking flower as ‘Venus’ Fly Trap,’
could ever be so cruel as to lure innocent
flies by her beauty, and then shut her
trap-door upon them and leisurely pro-
ceed to digest the little prisoners. Bot-
lite.
anists say that the digestion of this plant
is so good that it can easily demolish sev-
eral flies. The side-saddle flower, also
called ‘Pitcher Plant,’ and ‘Huntsman’s
Cup,’ is another deceptive flower, for,
along the wing of the pitcher, is a hon-
ey-baited pathway to the mouth, up
which the little insect is lured to its fate.
Bladderwort is provided with bladders,
which have little doors opening inward.
Aquatic insects bend in the free edge of
this door and enter. The door closes at
once and, to them, forever.
“Birthwort is not so cruel. She does
not condemn her prisoners to death;
neither does she imprison them for
She has a cornucopia-like flower,
the long tube of which is covered with
downward-pointing hairs. Insects can
go down the flowers, but the return is
impossible, until the hairs are dried up,
upon which the little captives make their
escape.”
“Aunt Jane, you talk about flowers as
though they were people,’ said Howard.
“T wonder if you can’t find a few giants
-among them, in addition to the blood-
thirsty villains you have been describ-.
ing.”
pGertainly,” she responded. -“I recall
one now. It is said to be one yard in
diameter, and sometimes weighs fifteen
pounds. It has a cup which holds six
quarts of water.”
“What is its moral character?” John
inquired. “Is it a slayer of the innocents,
also?” |
“Yes, but indirectly. It is the most
disagreeable of flowers. I have never
seen one myself, but it is described as
resembling raw beefsteak. It has a car-
rion-like smell, which attracts flies, and
they lay their eggs upon it, completely
deceived as to its real nature. Of course,
when the eggs hatch, the grubs die for.
lack of food. This very unpoetical flower
is called ‘Raffesia arnoldi.’ ”’
“The horrid old thing!” cried Madge.
“T dont want one of them in my gar-
den.” |
“Some of our sweetest flowers are
fatal to animal life. It is thought that
the Oleander kills insects, by the nar-
cotic effect of its odor.”
‘‘What other curious flowers are there
besides sanguinary ones?” Howard
asked.
“The horned milk-weed kills insects
by accidental detention, and not from any
malicious purpose. If an insect happens
to get its claw into the pollen sack be-
fore the pollen is ripe enough for dis-
tribution, the sack will not open to re-
lease it, and the poor little prisoner dies.
But some plants, [ am happy to say, are
humanitarian, or, should I say, ‘insecta-
rian’? enough to protect insects from
danger by ejecting the pollen on the ap-
proach of one of them, and then at once
closing the entrance, and refusing it ad-
mittance. The benevolent flower, ‘Mar-
tha,’ of the tropics, is said to be thus
careful of insect welfare. There is alsoa
flower, in Java, with ‘rooms to let’ for the
accommodation of insects. It is the “Dis-
cidia raffesia, and grows upon trees,
without touching the ground. The flow-
ers are fine, urn-shaped jars, and make
capital lodgings for the ants, who seem
delighted with such elegant tenement
houses. 3
““Grass-of Parnassus’ is another de-
ceptive flower. At the base of its snowy
petals, are little threads, which end in
balls which look like drops of honey.
Flies try to extract honey from them, and
thus get covered with pollen, which they
carry to other flowers. In the wonderful
family of Orchids, there is a very
naughty flower. It has a flap-cover to a
cup, and this cup is filled with an intoxi-
cating fluid, which makes the unfortu-
nate insect drunk.”
“How glad I am that you have men-
tioned Orchids,” said Edith. “I want to
know about them, for I was reading the
other day, that some of them look like
human faces, and others like insects and
animals. Please tell us if you have ever
seen one yourself.”
“T am happy to say,’ Aunt Jane re-
sponded, “that I have seen one of the
most remarkable specimens of the royal
family of plants. Ina park in San Fran-
cisco, I first saw “The Flower of the
Holy Ghost.’ It was in full bloom, and
represented a creamy white dove, nes-
tled in a cup-shaped corolla. The wings
of the dove were expanded, the head
and body perfect in shape, the eyes yel-
low, the tail fan-shaped, the bill slightly
curved. It seemed as if it might be liv-
ing, so perfect was its form.”
“You should have put this ‘flower-
bird’ on your, list. of .curious «birds; 2
think, although it is a very curious
flower,” said Howard. “But why do you
call ‘Orchids’ the royal family?”
“Because they are so distinguished, so
costly and aristocratic. Even the leaves
of some varieties are more beautiful than
flowers, being bronzed and velvety in
texture, and spangled as with gold dust,
while the seeds are marvellous in num-
ber and beauty. Darwin estimated that
the common Orchid produces nearly
200,000 seeds as fine as mahogany saw-
dust.
A glossy, silky tissue forms the ©
outer envelope of the tiny, egg-shaped
seed in which the embryo lies like a
grain of gold.
“Many difficulties attend ‘Orchid hunt-
ing.’ Sometimes lives are sacrificed in
attempts to secure fine specimens. In
tropical climates, the Orchids are often
found growing upon the branches of very
tall trees, which must either be climbed,
or cut down, or a lasso used in order to
secure the flowers.”
“T mean to study botany, so when I
travel I can be an ‘Orchid-hunter, ”
cried John, enthusiastically. “I shall not
mind the dreadful climate, and I’m pretty
good at tree-climbing already.”
“Bring me a few Orchids,” (sama
Madge. “I would prefer them to. the
dreadful carnivorous flowers, if they are
haughty aristocrats.”
BELLE Paxson’ DRURY,
THE RESCUE OF A SPARROW,
One afternoon my attention was at-
tracted to the front gallery by a wild
medley of sparrow voices, and wonder-
ing what could cause such excitement in
bird life, I went out to inspect.
There I found our house cat standing
very serenely switching her tail while
over her, back and forth, darted two lit-
tle sparrows. ‘The little birds were in a
desperate mood and their hysterical
chirps indicated the wildest apprehension.
They took no notice of my approach, and
their cries translated from bird language
clearly expressed the following:
“How. dare you.come here?’
away from here!” ‘“‘You’ve no business
here.” “We dont avant worn Jen Dott
you understand ?”
But Mistress Pussy had no mind to
obey the bird’s orders, and I myself feel-
ing a keen sympathy for the little birds,
called the cat into the house. Believing
that the birds must have a nest, I made
an examination, but found none.
“Get
A short time afterward I heard the
same cries of distress- from the sparrows,
and went out again to investigate more
thoroughly. The cat was on the ground
this time and the birds were battling
with increased vim. Again I looked into
the bushes and was just about to pick
up the cat when she sprang into a thick
china bush and jumped down with a
tiny birdling in her mouth. ;
“Let us save our darling from this
cruel fate,’ came in agonized cries from
the parent birds, and lending a hand to
their frantic efforts, I succeeded in fore-
ing the cat to drop the tiny creature just
as she was going underneath the house.
I could feel the rapid beats of its heart,
but it had not been injured by Tabby’s
teeth. As soon as the parent birds saw
their birdling in my hands they flew
away. I thought it best to put the little
thing up in a tree where it would await
its parents’ return, and soon afterwards
I saw the happy family on a high branch,
NINA KING.
Srswene gg fees:
THE SONG SPARROW.
(Melospiza fasciata.)
In one of his most beautiful bits of
verse, “The All-Kind Mother,” James
Whitcomb Riley speaks of nature as
Kindly to the weed as to
Lily, lorn and teared with dew,
and although this remarkable impar-
tiality between the lily we admire and
the weed we despise is quite difficult
for us to understand just now, the
poet assures us if we wait patiently
we shall
See the lily get
Its divinest blossom, yet
Shall the wild weed bloom no less
With the song-bird’s gleefulness.
In reading this over one feels al-
most certain that it was the Song
Sparrow the poet had in mind; for it
is the picture of this bird rather than
that of any other that is called up by
the verses, and the touch fits it so
exactly. No
And surely no bird is more worthy
the attention of the singer of sweetly
common things, than the Song Spar-
row is, for more than any of the birds
famous in song and story. More than
skylark or swallow, more than robin
or bluebird or cuckoo or thrush or
any other of the feathered host that
have figured in literature, this modest
singer is fit to stand as one of -the
types of homelike thoughts and ways.
_ It is perhaps because of this very fit-
ness, of his quiet dress and demeanor
that he has been so wholly overlooked
by the men who make literature. Al-
though the common people have been
hearing him gladly ever since he was
known.
_ In appearance, he is a commonplace
sort of bird, not catching the glance
at a distance as the tanager or gaudy
jay may do, but rather hiding beneath
his sober feathers. Really he is rather
dressed for concealment than display,
and can so perfectly blend his stripes
with the leaves of grass and spaces
between that he is easily overlooked.
He is, however, a neat, trimly built
bird, considerably more slender than
the English sparrow, and with his slen-
~derness accentuated with a long, rath-
of last-year’s grass.
59
few sharp, scolding notes.
er narrow tail. He can be distin-
guished from most of the other spar-
rows by the dark brown streaks or
blotches on his breast, and he looks at
a distance like a child who has spilt
some berry juice on his bib.
Wherever there is an old brush-pile
surrounded by weeds, or a bit of tan-
gled thicket in the open, or a neglected
edge of ditch or margin of river or
lake, the Song Sparrow is pretty sure
to be found. If the place is well shel- °
tered, and the winter not exceptionally
severe, he is likely to be found there
almost any day of the year, and he
greets the inquisitive intruder with a
It is in
such places, especially-along the edges
of ditches, that the nest is built, a neat,
closely built symmetrical structure,
usually placed on the ground and
overarched with the long brown blades
If one passes too
close to the nest, a streak of bird from
where it is hidden, to the grass a little
distance away, directs him where to
look.. Here, if the home has been
completely furnished at the time of
discovery, will be found five small
finely speckled eggs, the spots brown
on.a pinkish ground.
As to the bird’s song, there is con-
siderable variation in the arrangement
of the parts. It consists of several
calls and a series of clear melodious
whistles, lasting for a minute or two,
and often repeated. It is a quiet, un-
obtrusive strain much like the bird
itself; not likely to be noticed until
you are near the bird, or have learned
to recognize the song and have your
ears. set -to catch it.:: It* is “not. a re-
markable vocal performance, but is
full of domesticity and sweetness. It
is by no means the first bird-song you
are likely to become acquainted with.
The operatic performances of the
-brown thrasher, the ringing call of
the wood-thrush, or the strong-voiced
cheery song of the robin from the tree-
top, are likely to attract the attention
mtich ‘sooner. It is as if the Song
Sparrow had in mind one, not very
far away in mind, and sang directly
to one set of ears. While these other
gay troubadours, conscious of a large
audience of susceptible shes scattered
about here and there, amid the leafy
coverts within the compass of his
voice, puts forth the lures of his most
finished song to woo them one or all.
But the most attractive feature of
the Song Sparrow’s strain is its wear-
ing quality; as something befitting the
bird’s constant nature. The bird has
two full tides of song: one in spring,
and another, not so pronounced, in
autumn; but besides this, you may
hear him singing almost every time of
the year, even in the coldest days of
winter, if the weather is bright, the
song of this brave bird can be heard
coming from among the tangled weeds.
“Up to the level of each day’s most
quiet need,” is after all a high level,
harder to reach and keep than many a
jutting peak of special occasion, but
not so conspicuous in the eyes of the
world. And this is the level that the
Song Sparrow has reached and kept.
He does not lavishly spend. all his
music in an extravagant rapturous
courtship, and then forget that he ever
knew how to sing, as many bipeds
both feathered and otherwise, are so
likely to do, and the -bobolink’s short-
lived rapture, and the Spanish sere-
nade business seem to have little at-
traction for him. Just as people have
always associated the dove and olive
branch with the thought of peace, one
who knows them both can _ hardly
help associating the Song Sparrow
and the little speedwell, which puts
out its shy blossoms the year round
in sheltered nooks, as the emblem of
constancy. Both remind us i> one
of the bravest and gentlest of singers,
who ‘sang clear and unwavering
through sullen and gloomy days,
through days of dust and shadows. .
As for the Sparrow, he seems to
have the distinct mission of making
waste places glad. Hardly a patch of
rank weeds, hardly an old brush pile
or neglected edge of ditch or over-
grown fence-row but resounds with his
cheerful music, and here without ask-
ing for a day of vacation he toils for
the farmer the whole year around at
one of the finest miracles. of alchemy,
transmuting noxious weed-seeds into
song.
Every one who. has seen it, of
course, remembers that picture, so
wonderfully fitting and so finely sym-
bolical, in Vedder’s illustrations of the
Rubaiyat, the bird with uplifted head
and voice singing from the top of the
skull. And although the artist was not
thinking of any real bird or real skull,
‘any more than we when we look at it,
60
but simply of the symbols for which
they stand; although the thing the
picture brings is simply an illuminated
and concentrated glimpse of the things
signified, and the bird pictured there is
too subtle to be caged in our zoolo-
gies, I feel sure if we could only man-
age to get it there, and manage to
run it down with our analytical key,
our search would end up with a de-
scription of Melospiza_ fasciata, the
Song Sparrow.
H. WALTON CLARK..
WHERE THE WRENS BUILT.
I think I must tell you about our Wren’s
nest. It was something more than a
dozen years ago when my husband had
an office down town, with sheds and out-
buildings adjoining, and sold farm ma-
chinery. The little Wren I have in mind
chose the hollow center of a ball of binder
twine for her home, and having partially
filled it with numerous odds and ends
dear to her heart, proceeded to lay her
tiny eggs and sit upon them.
Now this particular ball of binder
twine was situated in the twine box of
a sample binder, which was set up ready
for work in a shed fronting the street.
Here day after day my husband was
called upon to show off the various good
points of the machine to would-be pur-
chasers. Not being in the field, and there
being therefore no grain to cut and bind,
the ball of twine was not molested, but
other parts of the machine were raised
and lowered and otherwise moved about
with an amount of noise quite terrifying
to the wee sitter upon the nest.
Sometimes she so far mastered her
fear as to quietly sit through the ordeal,
the motion of her shining eyes alone re-
vealing her temerity, but usually she
found this too much for the state of her
nerves, and flew off the nest, fluttering
about with her faithful little mate who
was always on hand to reassure her, and
whose angry chirps mingled with hers as
she scolded my poor husband for his per-
sistent interference with her maternal
duties, in a way quite heartrending to
hear.
Just before harvest when the little
birds were hatched and nearly ready to
fly, the binder was sold. There was no
alternative as it was the last of the kind
and the purchaser would take no other.
My husband, whose sympathies had been
with the little mother from the first,
though she, poor dear, could not
be persuaded to think so, felt very
much disturbed over the affair and
hoped against hope that the little
ones would fly away before time for the
machine to be removed, but they were
still snugly tucked down in their unique
bed when the eventful day arrived. Care-
fully opening the door of the twine box
he lifted the ball and placed it tenderly
in a secure place within sight of the in-
dignant parents, who were flying wildly
about, uttering the most plaintive, if also
the most angry, of bird cries.
The little family, in no wise injured
by the move, continued to reside in the
ball of twine until the birdlings—there
were seven of them—were strong enough
to leave it for “the great, wide, beau-
tiful, wonderful world.” To the day
of their final departure, however, the
mother Wren never forgave my husband
for his part in the transaction. She
seemed ill at ease the moment he ap-
peared and invariably scolded him with-
out intermission whenever he was in
sight, which returns for his friendship
and oversight he found rather amusing
than otherwise, since his conscience was
clear and, despite her indignant protest,
the, birds throve happily all the while.
GAZELLE STEVENS SHARP.
THE HERON’S NEST.
The Heron builds her nest in the tall pine,
That rises high, a watch-tower in the land,—
The while her mate, by stream or crystal pool,
Stands, mute and listening, warder of the strand.
61
——PpnA: Ff; Mosey.
THE YELLOW-BILLED piste
( Coccyzus americanus. ) 2
Of the Yellow-billed Cuckoo Mr.
Dawson has written as follows: “Most
birds prefer to face the enemy, so to keep
his every movement well in eye, but
Cuckoo presents his back, a cold gray
affair, from behind which he peers now
and then, turning his neck and giving
you one eye in a lofty, well-bred way. I
recall no other bird whose gaze is so
-calm, so direct, so fearless, yet withal,
so decorus.” The Cuckoos are watchful
but they do not neglect their work, which
apparently is to eat caterpillars. This
they will do in your presence, but dis-
turb them by a too positive action, and
they wil! silently and rapidly leave the
locality. These birds are very useful to
the farmer and fruit-grower. They will
frequent orchards and are very fond of
tent caterpillars which they destroy in
large numbers. Mr. F. E. L: Beal ex-
amined the contents of twenty-one stom-
achs of these Cuckoos which were col-
lected from May to October, inclusive.
He says: “The contents consisted of
355 caterpillars, 18 beetles, 23 grasshop-
pers, 31 sawflies, 14 bugs, 6 flies and 12
spiders. As in the case of the black-
billed cuckoo, most of the caterpillars
belonged to the hairy species and many
of them were of large size. One stom-
ach contained 12 American tent cater-
pillars; another 217 fall webworms.”
Many of the caterpillars upon which
they feed are very destructive to foliage.
The Cuckoos are very active and
graceful birds when darting through the
foliage or hopping along the branches of
trees in their search for insects. When
in repose, however, they do not appear
intelligent but rather stupid. They are
somewhat dove-like in appearance and
perhaps for this reason they are known
as Rain Doves or Wood Pigeons. As
they seem to be more noisy at the time
of meteorological changes they are also
called Rain Crows. They have arboreal
habits, and are seldom seen on the
ground. ‘Their flight is noiseless, swift,
and graceful but rarely protracted. They
prefer dense thickets bordering bodies of
62
water, the shrubbery at the sides of
country roads and bordering forests, and
orchards infested with caterpillars.
They are fairly common birds in many
localities, but inclined to be shy and re-
tiring, and were it not for their very
characteristic call notes they would be
known by few people outside of the cir-
cle of bird students. Their call notes
are quite varied. One of these notes has
the sound of the syllables noo-coo-coo-
coo, and another sounding like cow-cow-
cow or kow-kow-kow, has given these
birds the name Cow-cow. These calls
are usually several times repeated.
Major Bendire speaks of other calls, one
of which resembles the syllables of ough,
ough ough slowly and softly uttered. Of
other calls, he says: “Some remind me
Ot the kloop- kloop of the bittern; occa-
sionally a note something like the kiuh-
kiuh-kiuh of the flicker is also uttered;
a low, sharp tou-wity- whit and hweet
hwee is also heard during the nesting
season.’
While the Cuckoos cannot be consid-
ered social birds quite a number are
sometimes seen in the same tree during
the mating season.
Tie breeding range of the Yellow-
billed Cuckoo is coextensive with its
geographical distribution in the United
States and Southern Canada. Its range
extends through temperate North Amer-
ica east of the Great Plains, and in win-
ter it passes southward to Costa Rica
and the West Indies. There are few if
any birds which are poorer nest build-
ers. The nests are shallow platforms
constructed with sticks, twigs, rootlets
and strips of bark, among which and on
the top of the platform there may be
found dry leaves, bits of mosses, catkins
of various trees, tufts of grasses, and
even pieces of cloth. These platform
nests are sometimes not as wide as the
parent bird is long. The depression in
the center of the nest is so slight that
the eggs are not easily retained even in
a moderate wind, unless one of the birds
is sitting on them. The nests are so care-
ee potas,
iE
ON ag Ss 2 Stirprise, “I
67
sembling in taste that of licorice, and
it is a very soothing drink for those
afflicted with a cough.”
The sweet, low murmur ceased and
Mabel heard nothing but the con-
tinual-hum of the bees and noticed the
great number of birds, darting hither
and thither.
“IT suppose,” she thought, “those
nectar-laden blossoms attract insects,
too, and they in turn attract birds.
What’s that?” she sat erect, as she
noticed a bird whose exhausted pin-
ions seemed scarcely able to carry it
and who uttered a shrill note, as if in
distress. Closer and closer it came,
and, looking beyond it, Mabel dis-
covered the large body of a hawk.
Quickly she started to her feet and
with keen anxiety in her face, she saw
the tiny songster seek the refuge of
tie leider “lree. . Presto! the whole
army of birds had disappeared. The
hawk circled near, then spreading its
strong wings sailed upward into the
blue arch, until it looked like a tiny
black speck.
4 lami” so etd the poor little
bird is safe! How good of you, Lin-
den iicet nis. wii sone
thought and he put it into words:
poet
“There a linden tree stood bright’ning
All adown its silver rind;
For as some trees draw the lightning,
So this tree, unto my mind,
Drew to earth the blesséd sunshine
From the sky where it was shrined!
“There is a big basswood tree be-
side the river and its beautiful trunk
Mises Oh, sit? mist “be vseventy sect
high ” Mabel caught her breath
and paused for fear that she had over-
estimated its height.
“No doubt,” came reassuringly from
the treess) some ofthe White, Bass-
woods reach the height of nearly one
hundred and thirty feet, but the usual
height is about seventy feet. They
ure the tallest members of our family.”
“Well, this tree,’ continued Mabel,
“has the most beautiful leaves, they
are so wide and broad, almost the size
of a small plate; I’ve often watched
them drifting down the river in the
fall; but now when the wind stirs
them and they flutter on their long,
slender stems, the silvery whiteness
of the underside contrasts so prettily
68
with the dark green of the upper.”
Mabel ceased, and as she gazed at
the sky, which could be seen between
the fluttering leaves, she heard what
seemed to-be the voice -of thew iaees
in tones clear, distinct and proud.
“You have heard of Linnzeus, the
‘Father of Botany’ ?”
~ Yes, | have; there.is a S@cicmaam
yonder city named for him.”
“That is..only one of satya
was a Swedish naturalist, but his re-
searches in botany were much wider.
Perhaps it will interest you to know
that his name was derived from a
member of my family.”
“Is that so?” 7
“It.is, indeed. ~The tather eiglem.
neus belonged to a race of peasants
who had Christian names only; when
he, by his own efforts, raised him-
self to the dignity of parson of his
native village, he followed the Swedish
custom of adopting a surname. Now
it happened that a Linden Tree grew
near his humble home, of which, also
a botanist, he was very fond, so he
chose the name Linné, which is
Swedish for Linden. His son Carl was
a very precocious child, and at the
early age of four, asked his father
many questions in botany; the father,
Nils Linné, would refuse to answer
if he had forgotten what had been pre-
viously explained. When in after
years Carl became Professor of Bot-
any at the University of Upsala, the
name was Latinized into Linnzus, as
we know it today. The King of Spain
became much interested in Linnaeus,
and conferred upon him the patent of
nobility as Count von Linné, or Count
of the Linden Tree, and made him a
munificent offer if he would reside in
Spain. Linnzus, however, refused,
saying that his country deserved all
he had to give.”
“There was loyalty,” said Mabel, ad-
miringly, but no answer came from
the Tree. Bees and insects buzzed
about, birds twittered in the branches,
but listen as intently as she would, no
sound that she could construe into
words, so rising, she slowly wended
her way homeward.
EVELYN SINGER.
f
i
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reer ene Seen ete teeta NNN ESN YR RI ONY
RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD.
85 (Trochilus colubris).
About Life-size.
COPYRIGHT 1900, BY A, W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO
THE RUBY-THROATED HUMMINGBIRD.
(Trochtlus colubris.)
Voyager on golden air,
Type of all that’s fleet and fair,
Incarnate gem,
Live diadem,
Bird-beam of the summer day,—
Regarding the Ruby-throated Hum-
mingbird, Mr. Wilson has said: “Na-
ture, in every department of her work,
seems to delight in variety, and the pres- ©
ent subject of our history is almost as
singular for its minuteness, beauty, want
of song, and manner of feeding, as the
mockingbird is for unrivalled excellence
of notes, and plainness of plumage.”
One of the most interesting facts regard-
ing these, the tiniest and most exquisite
of our birds, is that they are the only
ones of a large family (for there are
about five hundred known species of
Hummingbirds) which pass through the
United States east of the Mississippi
River, and finally on to the Fur Coun-
tries and Labrador. They may be seen
as far westward as the Great Plains, and
they winter to some extent in the south-
ern portions of Florida, but the majority
pass to the West Indies and through
eastern Mexico into Central America.
_Of the many species of the Humming-
bird family only seventeen have been ob-
served within the borders of the United
States, and of these only seven species
really belong to our country, for they
are the only ones whose breeding ranges
lie chiefly or entirely within our limits.
The other ten species are only visitors
within our borders.
The names of few birds are found
more extensively in literature. The se-
date naturalists as well as the poets and
others have been inspired to write elo-
quently regarding these little birds. Buf-
fon, Audubon, Wilson, John Gould,
71
Whither on your sunny way?
—JoHN VANCE CHENEY,
“To A HuMMING-BIRD.”
Coues, Ridgway and many other orni-
thologists have glowingly expressed
their admiration of the beauty and in-
teresting habits of the Hummingbirds.
Audubon speaks of the Hummingbird as
a “elittering fragment of the rainbow,”
and says: “Who, on seeing this lovely
creature moving on humming winglets
through the air, suspended as if by magic
in it, flitting from one flower to another,
with motions as graceful as they are
light and airy, pursuing its course and
es new delights wherever it is seen
=. * wold not pause, admire, and
turn his mind with reverence toward the
Almighty Creator, the wonders of whose
hand we at every step discover, and of
whose sublime conception we everywhere
observe the manipulations in his admira-
ble system of creation.” Beautiful are
the lines of Ednah Proctor Clarke:
Dancer of air,
Flashing thy flight across the noontide hour,
To pierce and pass ere it is full aware
Each wondering flower!
* * *
The grave thrush sings
His love-call, and the nightingale’s romance
Throbs through the twilight; thou hast but
thy wings,
Thy sun-thrilled dance.
Yet doth love’s glow
Burn in the ruby of thy restless throat,
Guiding thy’ voiceless ecstacy to know
The richest note.
Oh brooding thrush!
Now for thy joy the emptied air doth long;
Thine is the nested silence, and the hush
That needs no song.
It seems strange that so beautiful a
bird should have no song. The voice of
the Ruby-throat is confined to a chirp or
squeak expressive of surprise, excite-
ment or anger, and also fine chirping
notes uttered when seeking a mate. Mr.
Chapman says: “The Ruby-throat needs
no song. Its beauty gives it distinction,
and its wings make music.” Our little
Hummers are inquisitive and fearless
birds. When standing near a trumpet-
creeper, watching the little bird, it hov-
ered directly over and in front of my face
looking me straight in the eye for sev-
eral seconds. Both parents valiantly de-
fend their nest and its contents, and it is
said that should the female be killed, the
male will take her place in the care of
the young. | :
While there seems to be no question
that the Ruby-throats are exceedingly
fond of the sap of the sugar maple and >
other trees, and of the nectar secreted in
the flowers of the honeysuckle, lilac, be-
gonia, horse chestnut and many other
plants, it is also evident that they require
and like insect food. They are attracted
to certain species of thistles, the flowers
of which contain many minute insects
but do not furnish nectar to the birds.
It is the belief of many careful students
of bird-life that these little birds obtain
their nourishment chiefly from the large
number of minute insects and spiders
which they eat. One investigator found °
sixteen small spiders in the throat of a
young Hummingbird which was only
about two days old. It is also known
that they feed to some extent on the
small plant-lice which are so annoying. .
The Ruby-throats then are not only
beautiful ornaments of nature but they
are also of some economic value.
HUMMINGBIRDS.
The characteristics of this class of birds
are, a Slender, weak bill, in some species
curved, in others straight; the nostrils
are minute; the tongue is very long and
is formed of two conjoined cylindrical
tubes; the legs are weak, the toes are
placed three forward and one back; the
tail contains ten feathers.
The Hummingbirds are the most di-
minutive of all the feathered tribes. They
are natives of the warmer parts of Amer-
ica, and of the West India islands; they
bear a great resemblance to each other
in manners. Their name is derived from
the constant humming noise they make
with their wings. They construct ele-
gant nests, in the shape of hemispheres,
in which they lay two small white eggs.
It is said that the young ones are some-
times attacked and devoured by spiders.
A simple way in which to capture these
birds is by blowing water upon them
from a tube, or shooting them with sand.
Although they are small in size, they
are extremely bold’ and pugnacious.
Their colors are too brilliant to be de-
scribed by any pen.
The length of our Ruby-throated Hum-
mingbird is about three and one-fourth
inches, of which its bill occupies three-
fourths of an inch. The male is of a
green-gold color on the upper part with |
a changeable copper gloss and the under
parts are gray. The throat and forepart
of the neck are of a ruby color, in some
lights as bright as fire. When viewed
sideways the feathers appear mixed with
gold and beneath they are of a dark gar-
net color. The two middle feathers of
the tail are similar in color to the upper
plumage and the rest are brown. The
female, instead of the ruby throat, has
only a few obscure brown spots and all
the outer tail-feathers, which in the male
are plain, are in the female tipped with
72
white.
This beautiful little creature is as ad-
mirable for its vast swiftness in the air,
and its manner of feeding, as for the
elegancy and brilliancy of its colors. It
flies so swiftly that the eye cannot follow
its course, and the motions of its wings
are so rapid as to be imperceptible to the
closest observer. Lightning is scarcely
more transient in its flight, nor its glare
more bright than its colors.
The most violent passions at times an-
imate these small creatures. They often
have dreadful contests when they believe
that any other bird, even if it is one of
their own kind, is trespassing on. what
they consider their own domain. They
are fearless of mankind and in feeding
will allow persons to come very near to
them but on too near an approach they
dart away with wonderful swiftness.
“A friend of mine informs me,” says
Dr. Latham, “that he kept these birds
alive for months by placing artificial
flowers with the bell of the flower. fas-
tened to a tobacco-pipe and painted a
proper color; he then placed them in a
natural position in the cage where the
little creatures were confined; the bot-
tom of the tubes were filled with a mix-
ture composed of brown sugar and wa-
ter, as often as emptied; he had in this
way the pleasure of seeing them perform
every action, for they soon became fa-
miliar, and, though close under the eye,
took their nourishment in the same man-
ner as when ranging at large in the open
gir.”
I watched a Hummingbird one day
nearly three hours trying to locate its
nest which I thought was somewhere
near at hand. Finally it entered a rose
bush near where I was standing; care-
fully I parted the branches and there was
the nest, but just as I located it, they, for
both the birds were present, made an
attack on me, attempting to strike me
in the eyes, they came and went in al-
most incredible swiftness, and I was
glad to retreat. As soon as I was away
from the bush they returned to their
home to protect it from further invasion.
The tongue of a Hummingbird is
formed much like that of a woodpecker,
being curled around the head, under the
skin, and thus capable of being darted
to a considerable distance. Like many
other little creatures, the assurance and
impudence of the Hummingbird is re-
markable. It is easily tamed, and for
that very reason it has been known to
domesticate itself in an hour’s time after
capture, and even when released it has
returned again to partake of the dain-
ties which it had tasted during its cap-
tivity.
’
GEORGE W: MiAcNINCH.
MIDSUMMER.
Hushed are the songs of birds,
And wearily the patient herds
Of dun-road Jerseys, seek the shade a-field
Or slake their thirst amid the oozy shallows
By shrinkage of the pasture stream revealed.
Deserted, brown and dusty lie the fallows;
While, outlined on the hills against the sky,
Flocks of white sheep, close-shorn, in silence lie.
-
73
—Mrs. Cora A. Matson DOLSON.
THE HOUSE WREN.
(Troglodytes aédon.)
The russet Wren glides in among the vines,
And adds another strand unto its nest,
Then, on the neighboring trellis, pours its song.
The poor man’s cottage is its favorite haunt;
And he is poor indeed, who to his roof
Can welcome not the yearly visitor,
To cheer his decor with music!
—TuHomAs BuCcHANAN READ, “THe New PASTORAL,”
All birds are beautiful, and in one
way or another attract our attention and
interest us.
of the smaller birds which seem to be
almost a part of our own lives and seem
to be members of our households. Such
a bird is the House Wren. It is one of
the best known of bird species in those
rural districts which are enlivened by its
presence. It will seek a home in villages
and cities, and does not hesitate to build
its nest in close proximity to our dwell-
ings. It was once my pleasure to ob-
serve a very striking illustration of the
attachment that man will acquire for
these familiar and cheerful little Wrens.
Sitting on the porch of a summer resort
hotel and noticing the Wrens visiting the
globe of a large illuminating lamp sus-
pended from the roof of the porch, I
asked the proprietor if the Wrens nested
there. This practical man of the world
said “Yes,” and that he never lighted the
lamp as he could not bear to disturb this
happy bird home. He did: not realize
that in protecting these sprightly and act-
ive birds, because of his love for them, he
was also favoring himself for the House
Wrens are extremely destructive to insect
life, which constitutes nearly all, if not
the whole, of their food. They should
be protected and encouraged to breed
wherever they will, for they rear large
families and not infrequently two in a
season. ‘The number of eggs laid varies
from six to nine. Mr. Robert Ridgway
in his “Ornithology of Illinois” quotes
the observations of Colonel S. T. Walker,
of Milton, Florida, who found that forty-
seven days elapsed between the begin-
There are, however, certain
74
ning of the building of one nest and the
time when the young left it. In this in-
stance, the last egg was laid the third
of May and the young left the nest on
the first day of June.
The House Wrens are very active, and
their familiarity and fearlessness are re-
markable. One of their marked charac-
teristics is persistency, and pairs have
been known to rebuild a nest several
times in a site that suited their fancy,
though destroyed each time by human
hands. Mr. Silloway says: “A pair of
Wrens once laid claim to an empty shot
sack hanging under a porch of a farm
house, and refused to be dispossessed,
even after their work had been thrown
out twice by the farmer’s wife. They
finally reared a brood in the third nest
made in this odd site.” House Wrens be-
come attached to a nesting site once se-
lected and return to it year after year.
They are irritably disposed, not only
against individuals of their own kind,
but also toward other familiar birds, such
as the martins and bluebirds, which they
will sometimes assail and drive from
their homes and then take possession of
the site for their own habitation. This
habit has made the Wrens disliked by
many people, especially in the East, but
it should not be so, for the difficulty may
be overcome by providing bird-houses
enough for the three species. The
Wrens are fully as useful as are the mar-
tins and bluebirds, but in a different field.
Mr. F. HB. King says: ~The? sigeaae
the bluebird, its. method of obtaining
food, and its haunts, fit it best for work
in the open fields, where it should be
> ——
FROM COL. F. M. WOQ@DRUFF HOUSE WREN. COPYRIGHT
86 (Troglodytes aedon).
About Life-size.
1900, BY A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO
{
especially encouraged; the House Wren
is especially fitted to do work among the
shrubbery of orchards, gardens and
yards, and these, particularly, should be
the foci of its labors.” Such places, too,
are the choice of the Wrens, and if given
places to nest in such localities they will
be quite sure to occupy them. 3
Slt is quite dificult to enumerate all
the kinds of sites that are acceptable to
the Wrens for homes. The more com-
mon sites are hollows in orchard trees,
bird-boxes, holes and crevices or any
protected places about buildings, holes
in posts, and fence rails, and, in fact, any
nook ‘the entrance of which will admit
them. They have been known to nest in
discarded tin cans, in an old teapot, be-
tween the window sash and the blinds,
and in many other peculiar places. No
matter where the nesting site is located,
it is bravely defended against all bird in-
truders.
While the geographical range of the
House Wrens is quite large, extending
over eastern North America from Man-
itoba and Southern Ontario southward
and west to Illinois and Louisiana, they
are somewhat local in their distribution,
for in the selection of haunts they are
astonishingly particular. They are resi-
dent throughout the year from about the
latitude of South Carolina southward.
In addition to its scolding notes, the
House Wren has a beautiful song. It is
a “merry little roundelay—a forcible,
voluble gush of hurried’ contentment,”
and it is at its best during the time of
courtship and while he is preparing a
home for his mate. The male is too
busy, too full of life to sing long at a
time, but he keeps up a constant chatter-
ing as he moves from place to place. Mr.
Chapman has well described his vocal
efforts. He says: “The song of the
House Wren is delivered with charac-
teristic energy—a sudden outpouring of
music which completely dominates the
singer, who with raised head and droop-
ing tail trembles with the violence of his
effort.” Reverend Herbert Langille is
very enthusiastic in his description of the
song. He says: “Of all the songs of
birds within the range of our acquaint-
ance, there is no melody more gushing,
more sparkling, more full of the very
soul of vital energy than the warbling,
twittering performance of this most act-
ive and industrious little creature. If
the syllables have not that measured ca-
dence, nor the tones, that heart-searching
vibration, which moves one to melan-
choly, or to joy, to prayer or to praise, it
touches the nerves with a startling im-
pulse, like the gust of the summer wind
shaking the leaves, the patter of rain on
the roof, or the streaming of sunshine
through a rift of the clouds.” Mrs. Olive
Thorne Miller listened to the song of the
House Wren and wrote: “Never did a
personage of his inches pour out such a
flood of rapture. It was luxury to he
and listen to the gushing, liquid melody
that floated into the window at my head.”
After the mating is over and the bird-
bride of the happy Wren in installed in
their home, he still sings, but his song is
more subdued and not so vivacious.
IMMORTELLE.
Unto the last the world’s best hearts will sing
Of sun and star in boundless sky, and rose, beneath;
These songs will live for aye, and doubtless bring
Full fund of happiness to Life; to Death, Love’s wreath.
77
—C. LEon BRUMBAUGH.
HUMMINGBIRD HOMES.
It has been my privilege to be more or
less intimately acquainted with three
hummingbird families. With the first I
was so timid, fearing to disturb the
dainty owners of the home, that I only.
ventured a peep at long intervals and
contented myself with securing the nest
after the family had departed.
The second was built some twenty feet
above ground on the limb of a large syca-
more tree, a knot of which it closely re-
sembled, with one huge leaf above it to
protect it from the weather, and I could
only observe it through an opera glass.
The third, it was my good fortune to
discover some eight feet from the ground
on the branch of an apple tree, the nest
being formed of vegetable down stuck to-
gether with spider webs and covered with
lichens until it seemed a part of the ap-
ple limb. When discovered, it contained
two tiny eggs which resembled the small
beans used for baking, except that they
were translucent and ethereal looking, as
if a touch would break them. Two days
after the discovery, the eggs hatched,
and there lay the two smallest birdlings
[ had ever seen. -Such miniature un
opened eyes! Such tiny, funny, gaping
bills! Such thread-like necks!
The hummingbird is the most easily
tamed of any of our wild birds, and the
tiny host and hostess of this dainty home
seemed rather to enjoy the daily inspec-
tion of their establishment. Flying to a
spruce tree twenty feet from the nest
they would preen their feathers and
calmly watch me while I, standing upon
a chair, would note the change from day:
to day in the little occupant of the nest.
Usually but once a day was allowed for
inspection. Then, the whole family as-
sembled, each would mount the chair and
enjoy the cunning sight with appreciative
exclamations of “oh!”: and “ah!” and
“how cunning” and “how he grows,”
then the nest was left to itself for twenty-
four hours. Only now and then when
callers came-was this rule broken.
In each of the three families of hum-
mingbirds I have known well, one of the
tiny fledglings died a few days after
hatching. One might think this was due
to human interference had it not been
the case in the nest far out of reach. In
this case, the dead bird was discovered
on the ground beneath the nest. In the
other cases it was removed on the point
of a penknife as the parent birds did not
push the body out at once. |
The parent birds did one thing that I
could never understand. I observed it
through the opera glass in the nest far
above ground, and again in the apple
tree nest near at hand. The parent birds
would often stand upon the fledglings
and execute a sort of dance with wings
extended. They appeared to trample
upon the young with their feet as if to
massage them. So vigorous did this
treatment appear to be that I was fear-
ful lest they kill the little ones, and pos-
sibly this would account for the death of
one of the young from each nest I have
observed. One naturalist mentions hav-
ing seen this same sight, but gives no
explanation of it.
Having the nest all to himselt seemed
to agree well with the baby bird in the
apple tree. He grew amazingly fast and
the most wonderfully small green feath-
ers appeared on his little buff body, and
when he saw me looking at him he gave
forth the most diminutive of birdling
squeaks, and was altogether the most
fascinating and charming of creatures.
But the great world demands its due of
hummingbirds as of men. In that tiny
breast moved desire for larger life and
broader fields, and the tiny wings grew
responsive.
One perfect day I watched the little
fellow all day, as the new-found joy of
life moved within him. He would sit
upon the edge of the nest while his par-
ents encouraged him to try his wings,
then his courage would fail him and he
would settle back, demanding more honey
or another spider before he ventured
forth again. The camera was brought
and several pictures were taken, but to
my great disappointment none of them
turned out well. Once, alarmed at the
nearness of the camera, the little fellow
assayed to fly but fell to the ground in a
fluttering heap of distress. I carefully
picked him up. O, such a wee, dainty,
trembling little object! Tenderly placing
him in the nest I held my hand over him
until he seemed to be asleep, and he re-
mained quiet for some time. But as the
afternoon waned, his ambition and
strength seemed to increase. He now
sat on the edge of the nest all of the
time and he fluttered his wings more
vigorously.
young birds almost invariably leave their
I did not then know that:
nests towards night, or I would have
gone without eating, so desirous was | of
seeing that first real attempt at flight.
But when six o’clock came and the shad-
ows of the tall cliffs shut off the light
from the western sky, it seemed to me no
right-minded parents would allow their
offspring to venture forth into the great
world, and I left my dear protégé perched
upon the edge of his tiny mansion, his
little bead-like eyes looking at me intel-
ligently, his little untried wings a-tremble
with their new-found life. I ate my meal
as quickly as I could, but alas for me!—
in those few moments the great instant
had come. When I returned the lovely
nest was empty; no hummingbirds were
to be seen. Infinite space had claimed my
tiny companion; he had gone to fill his
place in nature’s great plan and I could
only claim as my own the empty nest
and pray for him a continuation of love
and protecting care.
EpitH WIutuis LINN.
THE WILD GOOSE.
I hear the voices call me and I go,
Nor question of the way, nor why, nor where;
The tides of seasons bear me to and fro;
I am content as forth with them I fare.
Against the wind I press my trailing wings;
I breast the drive of rain, the stab of sleet,
And through the day and night my harsh cry rings
Over the woodland waste, and city street.
I journey far from mighty inland seas
To lakes and ponds, that lie in softer zone,
; And in the warmth of Spring’s inflowing breeze,
And in her vagrant storms, content I own.
—THOMAS JEFFERSON MARLIN.
A BOY’S OBSERVATIONS OF A HUMMINGBIRD.
On my way to school one morning, I
ran across a Hummingbird’s nest, which
looked so much like a dried leaf that I
came near passing it by. The nest was
about an inch and a half across and it
nearly matched the light gray eucalyp-
tus leaf on which it was made, both in
color and shape. A closer examination
showed two pure white, oval eggs anda
very cross little Hummingbird, who was
very much provoked to have me intrude
upon her nest. ;
About two weeks later, on coming
near the nest, I saw a tiny, black-skinned
baby Hummingbird in the nest alongside
of the.ego that had not) hatched: ~The
egg never did hatch, so the mother
threw it out to make room for her young |
one, who was growing fast. The fol-
lowing days were busy ones for the little
mother who had to work hard to get
enough for her growing youngster, who
made such rapid growth that at the end
of three weeks he was nearly as large as
his mother. Some people near @by
hitched some cows under the trees; and
one afternoon I found the young bird
near its demolished nest. I brought it
home and put it in an empty canary’s
nest, which it did not like. After some
severe criticism of its new home it at
last settled down and went to sleep. The
following morning I heard it making a
noise for its breakfast; I mixed some
sugar and water together in a spoon and
gave it from a-straw. ater itedas
from a medicine dropper, which it took
to as quickly as a duck does to water.
As it grew older, it began to take short
flights; and my mother, fearing that a
cat would get it, had a cage constructed
for its confinement. A few days after-
ward we placed it on some nasturtiums,
because we thought a Hummingbird that
stayed around there would take care of
ies
It stayed a few hours and then dis-
appeared.
HARLAN TRASK.
JENNY WREN AND THE SPARROWS.
The Wren’s box was under the eaves
at the corner of the house. The entrance
to this tiny, cozy cottage was through a
door, the exact size of a 25-cent piece.
This diameter allowed the Wren to enter
her home with perfect ease, while the
Sparrows could do no-more than peep
within. The door had no entrance step
nor porch, but the roof of the well-curb,
close by, served for this purpose.
The Sparrows decided to keep the
Wren from feeding her family. In con-
sequence, a regiment would line up on
the roof of the house ready for battle.
The anxious mother, returning with her
dainty worm morsel, was sorely dis-
tressed. Her cry brought me to the res-
cue. Flirting my apron at the Sparrow
80
intruders I completely routed them—
“for the time being.”
The Wren was quick to learn her re-
lief party. She would alight on the roof
of the well-curb, just opposite the
“army,” drop her bit of food and sing a
sweet, trilling song, to let me know of
her return and need of help. (When the
enemy was absent she failed to call me.)
After the birdlets were fed the lit-
tle mother would pour forth a seeming
extra song of thankfulness.
This performance was repeated until
the Wren’s family was able to go into
the busy world of workers. The Spar-
rows never ceased to bother; the Wren
never ceased to work and sing.
HAarRMONIA TATE.
THE PHOEBE.
(Sayornis phebe.)
Phebe!
is all it has to say
In plaintive cadence o’er and o'er,
Like children that have lost their way,
And know their names, but nothing more.
The homely and confiding Phcebes
are, perhaps, more generally esteemec
than any other birds. They are favor-
ites with all who have made their ac-
quaintance, and are always welcome at
the North when they return in the spring
from their winter home. The farmer
realizes that their presence is a blessing
and, being careful not to molest them,
the Pheebes’ confiding nature leads them
to seldom build their nests at any great
distance from human habitations in set-
tled districts. While their favorite nest-
ing sites are under bridges, cliffs of rock
and earth, in caves, and under protecting
rock shelves in quarries, they are almost,
if not quite, as well satisfied with suitable
places in barns or sheds and the porches
of houses. They have also been known
to nest in tin cans, and Mr. Dawson
speaks of a pair which nested in an old
coffee pot which was hanging on a nail
in a deserted cabin. The economic value
of the Phcebes is so well known that
they are seldom disturbed and their ten-
dency to nest near homes is constantly
encouraged.
Mes Chapman has well said: “There
is something familiar, trustful, and
homelike in the Phoebe’s ways which has
won him an undisputed place in our af-
fections. With an assurance born of
many welcomes he returns each year to
his perch on the bridge-rail, barnyard
gate, or piazza, and contentedly sings his
humble monotonous pewit-phebe, pewit-
phebe—a hopelessly tuneless perform-
ance, but who that has heard it in early
spring when the ‘pussy willow’ seems al-
most to purr with soft blossoms, will not
affirm that Phoebe touches chords dumb
to more ambitious songsters.” The
are never cruel.
can
83
—James Russet, LoweEL., “PHBE.”
Pheebe’s reputation is hardly equalled by
any other birds. It is loved not for its
song nor for the splendor of its plumage,
but because its life so well fits the say-
ing “handsome is that handsome does.”
The Pheoebes are insect catchers par ex-
cellence. They are devoted parents and
As a rule they exhibit
amiable disposition toward other
birds, often nesting in close proximity
to some of them, but a pair will not al-
low others of their own kind to occupy a
nest close to their own. Some one has
said the ‘‘Phoebes are almost faultless.’’
A large portion of the United States
is favored with the presence of the Phee-
bes. Their range covers eastern North
America, west to eastern Colorado and
western Texas, and from the British
provinces southward to eastern Mexico
and Cuba. They breed from South Car-
olina northward and they winter from
the South Atlantic and Gulf States
southward. The Phcebes begin their
northward migration very early in the
season, and in the North they may well
be called heralds of spring, for they be-
gin to appear quite frequently very early
in March, when their welcome voices are
heard in their old haunts. They are the
first of the fly-catcher family to leave
their winter home, where there is such
an abundance of insect life. Can it be
possible that their deep love of home and
of a brood of care demanding young
hastens their departure toward their
summer home, where it is too early for
insects to be very abundant. They are
also the earliest of the fly-catchers to
breed and two or even three broods are
often raised in a season. The female per-
forms nearly all the work of incubation,
which lasts about twelve days. She is
a close sitter and seldom leaves the nest.
Her mate remains in the vicinity and
faithfully watches for intruders. The
young are fed only on insect food, of
which they consume an _ exceedingly
large amount each day. The parents
must work very hard to obtain such a
quantity of food. The nests vary both
in form and in the manner of construc-
tion. The form depends upon the kind
of support to which it is attached. When
attached to the face of the support it is
semi-circular, but if placed on a flat sup-
Port 1t is scircular.) Phe wnest, 1s ay eniek
walled cup or cup-like bracket construct-
ed largely with moss and mud and lined
with plant-down, mosses, fine grasses
and horse-hairs. The same pair of Phoe-
bes are believed to return to the same
place year after year and if they do not
always avail themselves of the same nest-
ing site they select one which is near by.
Regarding the economic value of the
Phoebes Mr. Beal says: “An examina-
tion of eighty stomachs showed that over
ninety-three per cent of the year’s food
consists of insects and spiders, while
wild fruits constitute the remainder. The
insects belong chiefly to noxious species.”
As two broods, each numbering from
four to six young, are generally raised
each season, it is quite evident that a sin-
gle pair must materially reduce the num-
ber of insects in the vicinity of their
nest.
SPIDER COURTSHIP.
Courting among spiders is decidedly
a dangerous occupation, for, sad to say,
in the spider world the female is more
fierce and depraved than the male. She
is larger, also, and the gentleman spider
who goes to woo his lady, braves much
more than a mere refusal or a possible
unconventional exit from the house at
the hands or feet of an irate parent. In
fact, he carries his life in his hands, so
to speak, for Miss Spider invariably
tries toveat ber rejected, suitor, Nor as
acceptance a guarantee of continued
safety, for the capricious lady has an
original and effective solution of the
divorce problem. When she grows tired
of her husband she simply makes a
meal of him.
Those who have watched a spider
courtship must agree that the spectacle
is an interesting one. When she sees
her humble admirer approaching, my
lady takes up her position in the center
of her web. The gentleman advances
quite rapidly at first, but slows consid-
erably as he gets nearer, and prepares
to beat a hasty retreat should the lady
of his affection attack him. When with-
in about four inches of the web center
he begins to show off his dancing. He
84
goes through some wonderful balancing
feats, which his dear one watches with
apparent interest, often changing her
position, as though to gain a better
view. If she seems satisfied the would-
be husband moves toward her, in a se-
ries of semi-circles. If she should re-
sent his approach she will make a dash
at him, and he will run for his life. She
may follow him, and in that case he
needs to be lively. But generally she
contents herself with a pretense of pur-
suit, and he returns to try his luck once
more. He edges up very closely this
time, though still with caution. He be-
gins his dance again and she joins in,
and soon both are whirling as fast as
they can go.
The gentleman, after a few seconds re-
treats somewhat, but the lady, now thor-
oughly worked up, begins to consider
his good points. If the result of her
meditation is acceptance, they embrace,
if not, the gentleman soon becomes
aware of the state of her feelings, and,
again, is obliged to run, this time, at top
speed. After this, there is no return,
and no gentleman, in fact, should the
lady succeed in catching him.
LovuIsE JAMISON.
THE-PRICKLY PEAR.
(Opuntia vulgaris.)
The useful is not always. beautiful,
and there is sometimes in plants a com-
bination of utility and harmfulness. A
common variety of the North American
Prickly Pear which may be classed in
this category belongs to one of the most
prominent species of cacti, and is found
in various parts of our country. It at-
tains its greatest growth in Western
Texas and in certain parts of Mexico,
matting vast stretches of land, and woe
to the traveler who finds it necessary to
wind his way through these thorny
beds.
The plant is irregular in form, having
somewhat the appearance of green
plates ellipitical in shape, jointed one
upon the other, and both sides covered
with long greenish thorns. It varies in
height, sometimes growing as high as
six feet. If is one of the few ‘varieties
of the cactus useful as food, and the in-
experienced will be puzzled to think
how this thorny plant can be acceptable
as an article of food for either man or
beast.
In cattle regions it is gathered and
stacked in huge piles, and a familiar
sight during the fall and winter months
is a fire in which the plants are held for
a moment, thereby burning off the
thorns and leaving the fleshy cake a
most nutritious and enjoyable diet for
cattle. This work has been facilitated
in some localities by a machine which
is used to burn the thorns on the plants
as they stand.
The plant contains a liquid which
doubles its value wherever a scarcity of
water exists. The shepherd guides his
flock to the prickly pear grounds, sever-
ing the plants with his machette and the
sheep eagerly nibble the soft fleshy
portion.
In certain parts of Southwestern
Texas there are extensive tracts of the
prickly pear of such large size and thick-
ness of growth as to be impenetrable to
man, but which are the home of the
deer and other wild animals.
When flowering, the prickly pear pre-
sents a most beautiful spectacle, being
covered with clusters of brilliant red or
yellow flowers with many petals. The
bunches of bright red pears, cone-like
in form, look very tempting to lovers
of wild fruits, but ’tis with a sense of
disappointment that the uninitiated dis-
cover that a fruit so inviting to the eye
should not be more luscious in flavor.
The fleshy portion of this plant has a
healing effect, and is now used in the
medical world.
Nina KING.
THE BUTTERFLY.
A tiny egg on a milkweed’s leaf,
In the warm arid mellow sun;
A belted worm on the selfsame leaf,
With its cocoon just begun;
A gilded bag of a china hue,
Like a gem of unknown name;
A mystic change, and a_ Butterfly,
Soars forth on its wings of flame.
—JAc LOWELL.
THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET. :
(Regulus calendula.)
The Ruby-crowned Kinglet, “that nat-
ty little dandy,” is only known in the
larger portion of the United States dur-
ing its migrations, for it breeds further
north, aside from the Rocky Mountains,
the Sierra Nevadas and, it is said, to
some extent in the mountains of Arizona.
Its range covers North America from
the Arctic coast southward, and it win-
ters in the southern United States and
southward to Guatemala. During their
spring migrations these Kinglets may be
seen among the blossom-decked fruit
trees, closely examining the blossoms,
partly opened buds and unfolding leaves
for insects, which form their food. Dur-
ing the fall migrations they are less con-
spicuous. They frequent woods, or-
chards and shrubbery and are often mis-
taken for wood warblers as they flit from
point to point among the foliage.’ Their
food also resembles that of these war-
blers, but in their method of climbing
about the branches, while searching for
more feet above the ground. Their nests
are somewhat globular in form and usu-
ally semi-pensile. They are constructed
with moss and fine strips of fibrous bark
which are carefully interwoven and lined
with feathers. Sometimes large families
are raised, for the number of eggs varies
from five to ten. The Kinglets are cour-
ageous during the nesting season and do
not hesitate to attack birds much larger ©
than themselves. In his “Birds of
Alaska,” Mr. E. W. Nelson relates an
incident observed by Dr. Dall. A pair
of Kinglets “‘which appeared about to
commence a nest in a small clump of
bushes tore to pieces a half-finished nest
of the rusty-headed blackbird, and upon
the return of the female blackbird the
pair of pigmies attacked and drove her
away. This was repeated several times,
and when Dr. Dall left Nulato the quar-
-rel was still unsettled.”
insects, they are more like the chicka- .
dees. They are much more tame and
lively than are the warblers, and they
frequently move their wings in a nervous
manner. They also utter a scolding note
which, with their nervous motions and —
activity, make them seem quite wren-like. ©
In fact, they are sometimes called Ruby-
crowned Wrens. These dainty and di-
minutive birds are very useful to man-
kind. They not only search for their
food of minute insects, their larve and
eggs, on the foliage and twigs at the
top of trees, but also search the twigs of
branches lower down and on shrubbery.
It is said that they have one very notice-
able habit; they are thorough and if not
disturbed seldom leave the twig upon
which they have lighted until they have
cleared it of insect life.
During the nesting season the King-
lets frequent the coniferous forests, in
the trees of which their nests are built
at an elevation of from six to fifty or
86
Often the first indication of the pres-
ence of the Ruby-crowned Kinglets are
their somewhat garrulous and grating
call-notes. These notes sometimes precede
its marvellously beautiful and powerful
song. This song is noted for its soft-
ness, sweetness, and its brightness and
vigor of expression. Mr. Ridgway has
described the song as “an inexpressibly
delicate and musical warble, astonish-
ingly protracted at times, and most beau-
tifully varied by softly rising and falling
cadences, and the most tender whistlings
imagiriable.” It hardly seems possible
that such a loud and powerful a song
could emanate from the throat of so
small a bird. Dr. Coues has said: “The
sound-producing organ is not larger than
a pinhead, and the muscles that move it
are almost microscopic shreds of flesh,
yet its song may be heard two hundred’
yards.” The song must be heard, for it
defies description and any syllabic ren-
dering of the notes is unsatisfactory.
One of the best descriptions of this ex-
quisite song is that of Mr. Chapman. It
a gers
Hiss Zz * tae 4
RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET. COPYRIGHT 1900, BY A. W
(Regulus calendula).
About Life-size.
_ was the first time that he had heard the
Kinglet sing. He says: “The bird was
in the tree tops in the most impassable
bit of woods near my house. The longer
and more eagerly I followed the unseen
singer the greater the mystery became.
It seemed impossible that a bird which |
supposed was at least as large as a blue-
bird could escape observation in the
partly leaved trees. The song was mel-
low and flute-like, and loud enough to
be heard several hundred yards; an in-
tricate warble past imitation or descrip-
tion, and rendered so admirably that I
never hear it now without feeling an im-
pulse to applaud. The bird is so small,
the song so rich and full, that one is re-
minded of a chorister with the voice of
an adult soprano. To extend the com-
parison, one watches this gifted but un-
conscious musician flitting about the
trees with somewhat the feeling that one
observes the choir-boy doffing his sur-
plice and joining his comrades for a
game of tag.”
The Ruby-crowned Kinglet has been
called a “dainty monarch.” Dr. Henry
Van Dyke calls him “Little King,” and
in his poem, “The Kinglet,” says:
“Never king by right divine
Ruled a richer realm than mine!
What are lands and golden crowns,
Armies, fortresses and towns,
Jewels, scepters, robes and rings,
What are these to song and wings?
Everywhere that I can fly
There I own the earth and sky;
Everywhere that I can sing
There I’m happy as a king.
A WESTERN MEADOWLARK,
The Meadowlark to which my story
relates was reared in a beautiful, hair
lined cradle sunk below the level of the
unbroken sod and overshadowed by a
thick tuft of long coarse grass, upon the
far stretching prairie.
He shared the nest with four other
fledglings who filled it to overflowing,
while their growing appetites demanded
the almost constant attention of their
devoted parents who foraged far and
wide, catching insects which flaunted
their bright wings among the prairie
grasses, or delving deep in the cultivated
soil and drawing forth the corpulent
grubs.
Despite the attention their offspring
demanded, they failed not to break the
prairie’s stillness with the clear and varied
notes of their wonderous song, so far
surpassing that of their eastern relatives.
The male seemed to delight in frequent-
ing the roadside and trustful of the
chance passerby, he would perch upon a
weed or nodding grass stalk and sing his
song of hope and cheer until the human
listener approached so near as plainly to
distinguish the swelling of his yellow
89
throat; or if discovered upon the ground
he would often half spread his wings,
stoop lower and throwing backward his
beautiful head pour forth a soft sweet
trill of gurgling notes before soaring far
across the flower bedecked plain.
The summer was well advanced when
their young were large enough to assume
the responsibilities of providing for them-
selves, for when the first nest had long
been completed and the young were daily
expected, a fire swept across the prairie,
and their nest, with many others in its
path, disappeared as if by magic. Only the
charred shells lay upon the naked ground
while the saddened owners sought a new
site and prepared for the rearing of an-
other family.
The. day was intensely warm when the
young Meadowlarks started forth upon
their first hunting expedition alone and
unaided. At noonday the birds had
hushed their songs and_ with © slightly
extended wings and panting breasts
seemed to join the drooping flowers and
grain, fast ripening before its time, in
their silent appeal for rain. At. last it
came, but with it came. the dreaded hail
and all living things sought shelter while
the grain bent before the wind and was
beaten as by a mighty flail, and large
white. stones bounded high in exalta-
tion above the ruin they had wrought.
My hero lay beneath a large gray stone
and escaped uninjured but when the
storm was spent, shaking his dampened
feathers, he started forth. All unheed-
ing him, a hawk passed by dragging a
broken wing; a maimed grouse fluttered
along the ground, and his beautiful
mother lay with her storm-beaten breast
turned to the pitiless sky, while across
the ice-strewn prairie came the sad note
of her lonely mate.
He passed the remainder of the sum-
mer and autumn without farther adven-
ture save when, the water supply hav-
ing failed in the ravine he frequented,
he visited a barn yard to slack his thirst
and venturing too far over the brim of
the watering tank, he fell in and was
found there by the farmer’s daughter, an
apparently lifeless form.- After warm-
ing him by the kitchen fire, rubbing his
damp plumage, and blowing into his
unresisting throat, her efforts were re-
warded and he showed signs of return-
ing life; but before his unsteady limbs
would bear him, the instinct of self-
preservation asserted itself and he began
pecking viciously at the hands that had
saved his life, showing that the mouth
held open for the exit of the sweetest
song may be used for sterner things.
The prairie grasses were brown and
dry and the first snowflakes had fallen
before he joined others of his tribe on
the long migration southward. I know
not of his adventures in his sunny win-
ter home but before the snow had left
the northern slopes and slight ravines,
before the swelling buds had unfurled
their tender leaflets to the breeze, his
joyous song was once more heard upon
the prairie and each human listener
gladly welcomed the sweet harbinger of
spring.
In due time, he and his newly chosen
mate began the structure of their dwell-
ing and his heart seemed overflowing
with joy as in the cool early morning, the
genial warmth of noontide, or in the
soft hush of evening he called to her
whose responsive notes seemed the faint,
sweet echo of his song.
But, alas, that man should so often
change the purest domestic joys of his
feathered friends to keenest sorrow!
One evening while singing on a stake
by the roadside, all trustful of the human
pedestrian approaching him, a shot rang
out; the song was stilled and the min-
strel’s life-blood stained the springtime
grasses while through the still evening
air sounded the single mournful note of
his mate, repeated again and again in
accents of dispair, one of the saddest
notes that Nature ever knows.
HATTIE WASHBURN.
A BIRD IN THE HAND. -
While visiting a primary schoolroom
near Chicago, my attention was called to
a frightened hummingbird, incessantly
beating its dainty head against the ceil-
ing of the room. For over an hour, with-
out a moment’s pause, the poor creature
strove in its agony of fear to find an
exit through the hard plaster, which
must have seemed like a sky of hereto-
fore unknown resistance
While the pupils were being dismissed,
the tiny bird dashed down behind a large
90
framed picture, which offered a semi-
shady retreat. It could have found no .
spot on which to cling, for when the
frame was lifted the bird fell to the
blackboard ledge, where I caught it in
my hands. Its head fell to one side from
either fright or other exhaustion, and it:
seemed to be dying. “Get some syrup,”
I called to my friend. There was none
to be had. “Then get some sugar and
water as quickly as possible,” and as:
these were at hand they were made ready
for the little patient. I thrust the bird’s
bill into the spoonful of diluted sweet-
ness and was glad to see the beak open
and a small quantity of the water dis-
appeared. In a short time the muscles
of the fairy frame began to gain
strength and soon the wings pressed
strongly against the palm of my hand,
as I tried to prevent its escape. A little
child, who had remained with us, be-
seeched me to let her take the feathered
guest, and with her promise to not let it
fly away until we had examined it more
carefully, | parted with my treasure.
Together we went into the next room,
where the pupils were yet studying from
books, and there our little visitor readily
partook of more refreshment from the
cup of sugared water. Hardly one of the
many children had ever before been so
near a living specimen of this fairly com- ©
mon species of American birds and not
one, including the teachers, had ever seen
one quietly drinking. |
“Is its bill a tube? Does it suck the
syrup through its tongue? Does it ever
eat anything but honey? Can it sing
something beside that squeak? These
and many other questions showed the
intense interest of the little unfeathered
bipeds about me, and for awhile it was
difficult to find an opportunity to give
answer. Perhaps you may make a sim-
ilar capture during the year and not be
ready for such a catechism and a repeti-
tion of some hummingbird truths may be
of interest here.
The probe-like bill is not a tube, but it
is used as a protection and guide for the
long tongue, which moves so rapidly
that one can hardly discover its motion.
These birds do eat insects which haunt
the funnels of the trumpet flower, the
petunia blossoms, and other long-necked
repositories of plant nectar; and here
would be a chance to discourse upon the
difference between the bee-made honey
wrought from the plant supply and its
original form when in the flower. The
bird does not absorb its liquid food after
the manner of the boy with a lemonade
straw, but drinks it, drop by drop, by
means of its long tongue. Its hard bill,
beside serving as a means of defense
more powerful than the awe-inspiring
hat pin of the school girl, also aids it in
91
securing’ a change of diet in the shape
of tiny spiders which often infest plants,
and other insects which are desired
neither by the flower nor the gardener
or farmer. It thus pays for its sweet
repast of nectar and for its protection;
for who has ever heard of the destruc-
tion of these morsels of bird-life in our
part of the country.
It needed only a glance to tell that
this little wanderer from the world out-
side was either a female ruby-throat or
a male less than one year old. Does
some one ask “How did you know?”
The method of determining is extreme-
ly simple, for there is only one species
east of the Rocky Mountains and Colo-
rado, and that is Trochilus colubris, or
the ruby-throated hummingbird, and it
is found from Labrador to Uruguay, ac-
cording to season. In the Northland
they are with us from May to October ;
the remaining months they spend in
travel and search of health in other
lands.
Both sexes are wonderfully attractive
in the irridescent coloring, but to the
mature master belongs the blood-red
ruby at his throat, which gives him his
name. | |
Beyond the barrier of the Rockies one
will. discover many other varieties. of
these dervishes of the air, who, if they
do not actually whirl, at least make as
many motfons as the most deyout of
whirligig devotees.
Many persons have declared that they
have seen one species hovering over clo-
ver blossoms in the dusk of twilight or
in the evening hours. But the youngest
and the least expert of true, close observ-
ers will soon discover that this strange
nectar-seeker is a moth and not a bird.
As to actual protection of the ruby-
throat by written law I cannot say, but
unwritten ruling is in his favor here.
Beyond Mexico’s northern boundary -and
southward throughout the South Amer-
‘ican countries, which are his habitat dur-
ing his migration, he suffers violence
from the bird-hunters who supply the
wants of the milliners of all lands which
ate civilized enough to have their women
wear hats. There has been a time when
a wreath of murdered ruby-throats about
the crown of an Easter creation of rib-
bons and silken flowers was considered
the acme of fashion and for which the
devout attendant at Easter service would
pay a sum sufficient to support a mission-
ary for months. If that sum had been
called a fine for the destruction of inno-
cent, happy life the milliner’s attempt at
artistic arrangement of colors would have
received its true name of barbarity. But
the word “Fine!” was used only in com-
mendation. Thanks to the united efforts
of the Audubon Societies and other bird-
lovers, bird sacrifice is becoming poor
taste as it grows unfashionable.
A few years since a, friend of mine
had her dining-room window nearly cov-
ered by a trumpet-creeper. In the shade
of this plant, among the flowers they
seem to love best, a pair of ruby-throats
came one May day and made their nest,
and so close to the window was it built
that all their house-planning and house-
keeping could be closely and easily ob-
served. The male would often rest upon
a twig among the thick green leaves, and
im@aesgitcakine “vyorcertellweitier ot las
love for his mate or of his day’s labor.
The tiny eggs hatched under the care of
the house-people, for they saw to it that
no cat or other beast of prey, two-legged
or four-legged, molested these tiniest
treasures of bird land. The nestlings,
small as honey bees at first, grew rapidly
from the effect of the nourishment thrust
down their infinitessimal throats by the
beaks of their parents. They became
nearly full-fledged air sailors in a few
short weeks; then, all flew away together
and the house beautiful on the inside of
the window panes has nothing but lov-
ing words when any of its members
speak of the home beautiful outside.
For reasons very apparent to those
who have ever made friends with any
family of our little brothers of the air,
hummingbirds, mounted life-like upon
swaying wires, amid laces and bewitch-
ing blossoms, have seemed as a sacrilege
to them and to their friends, who to-
gether watched the unfolding of that un-
written idyl among the summer leaves.
Mary CATHERINE JUDD.
AUGUST.
I know ’tis August, for the milkweed flower
Hangs heavy-headed on its stately stem.
Soon shall the pale, curved pods, shed silver floss
To broider Autumn’s robe with shining hem.
I know ’tis August, for the fields of rye
‘No longer wave in shining billowy ranks;
But have, like armies, pitched their tawny tents,
And streams have shrunken, ’neath their willow’d banks,
The harvest fly, with sudden stinging sound,
Rings his triangle in the drowsy trees.
He bids us note wan Summer drifting by,
Her robe scarce stirring in the languid breeze.
Subdued bird-music hints of southern flight;
At night the katydids begin to call
And deep-toned crickets chant of shortening days
With coming frosts, and glories of the fall.
—BELLE A. HITCHCOCK.
THE MOURNING DOVE.
(Zenaidura macroura.)
The breeding and the geographical
ranges, both being practically the same,
are extensive, covering temperate North
America from the southern portion of
Canada and British Columbia, southward
ward to Panama and the West Indies.
‘The majority of these birds winter south
of the more northern states, but some
have been known to remain through this
season as far north as Ontario. The coo-
ing of this Dove, which is one of the
‘most mournful sounds in nature, is also
one of the characteristic voices of spring.
The sadness of its notes, however, do not
indicate a mournful nature, for they are
not notes of grief, but, rather, they indi-
cate attachment for their mates.
The Mourning Dove, also called Tur-
tle Dove and Carolina Dove or Pigeon,
is to my mind a bird of exemplary
habits. It is rarely quarrelsome and
easily adapts itself to its favorite locality,
placing its nest wherever it seems most
convenient. The nests of these birds
may be built in trees, bushes, on stumps
and logs, on cliffs and on the ground,
especially in treeless regions. Occa-
sionally they will utilize the old nests of
other birds, and I know of one instance
where a pair nested in a cavity of a tree.
It is my experience that the Mourning
Doves are rarely seen during the nesting
season in greater numbers than two in
an area of one or two acres. This trait
may account, to some extent at least, for
the fact that they are abundant and have
not been exterminated as is nearly the
case with its relative, the passenger
pigeon. I am informed that these Doves
sometimes nest in colonies consisting of
a few pairs. In one instance, it is said,
the nests were found in a small group of
pine trees. The nests are simply frail
platforms made of sticks, twigs and
roots when built in trees, but if placed
on a large limb or a stump a mere rim
of twigs, sufficient to retain the eggs, is
constructed. On the ground a _ few
95
straws and twigs are all that is usually
used. These Doves rear two and some-
times three broods in a season.
After the breeding season both the
young and the old Doves collect in flocks
and resort to grain fields and berry
patches. Eating plentifully of various
grains, the seeds of weeds, small acorns
and other nuts, berries, worms and in-
sects, they become fat and their flesh be-
comes delicate and makes a food that is
appreciated by hunters. At this time, it
is a favorite pastime.of gunners to station
themselves in the fields and bag the birds,
their swift and straight flight offering a
great temptation to the sportsmen.
An interesting note regarding the
Mourning Doves in the arid regions of
the Southwest is given by Major Charles
Bendire in his “Life Histories of North
anetican, Eitds:.) He says: “In the
more arid regions of the West, especially
in southern Arizona, I have often no-
ticed this Dove a long way from water,
but as they are exceedingly strong and
rapid flyers, distance is but a trifling
matter to them. They usually visit their
regular watering places in the morning,
and in the evening just before sundown,
and, where water holes or springs are
scarce, they can be seen coming from all
directions in search of such localities,
usually in pairs or little parties of from
four to six. At this time, if closely
watched, they are a sure guide to water.
Old mountaineers are well aware of this
fact, and, if not familiar with the coun-
try they shape their course after the line
of travel of these Doves, which is al-
ways a direct and straight route to the
objective point.”
In the southern portion of the range
of the Mourning Doves, their mating sea-
son begins early in March, and fresh
eges have been found toward the last of
that month, and Major Bendire says that
he has taken them in Arizona as late as
the fourteenth of September and might,
~
probably, have found them still later had
he looked for them. In northern [lli-
nois I have found them nesting from the
last of April to the first of August. The
eggs of these birds vary considerably
from a true oval and are usually a glossy
white, though some have a rather rough
surface.
The Mourning Doves show a strong
attachment for their mates throughout
the season. Both parents exhibit a true
ie
-
love for their young and give them much
attention even after they have left the
nest, and it is said that the mother bird
will brood fully fledged young, though
she always sits crosswise of them. The
love notes of these Doves are familiar
to those who are acquainted with the
birds. While they are low and rather
mournful in sound they may be heard at
some distance. It seems impossible to
give a satisfactory syllabic description.
FRANK Moriey WoobRUuFF.
THE RUSSET-BACKED THRUSH.
(GRAY’S HARBOR, WASHINGTON.)
O wandering thrush! the homeland is the best;
The salmon berry blooms for thee, its guest,
And songs are in the air, ended thy quest.
The forests’ thine, their fragrances so sweet,
Afar the line where sky and mountain meet,
Thy message lends the charm to make complete.
After the long and difficult ascent
To heights where vision sweeps the friamnene
What infinite repose thy voice hath lent!
Like to the fir tree’s fragrances that stay
In rich suggestions through the long sweet day,
The echoes tell that thou hast passed that way.
O song that lures me where the fir trees grow
Or down into the “tide flats” far below,
Still constant where the shadowed rivers flow!
Tenderest at morning, half subdued, it seems
Only the ending of the gladdest dreams,
The gentle wave beat of melodious streams.
Triumphant when the sun sinks low behind
The dark hill-forests, and the searching wind
Is gone with day, and night is still and kind.
’*Tis then it rings in notes so sweet, so clear,
The very angels well might pause to hear
And, listening long, leave heaven to draw near.
And when the twilight fades, the long day done
Between the silences thy song rings on,
The voices of the night are thine alone.
Aye, when the darkness comes, silence unstirred
Save by thy son, O little flute-voiced bird,
A truer harmony was never heard!
—Netty Hart WoopwortH.
96
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The beautiful is as useful as the useful—Victor Hugo.
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SAME EN RE Carat wernt tz hey tab or eee: Boke le Tana ae
- ALEAP (John McGovern) [Poem] . : : . ae. Paéfonal MUP ez
‘} THE GQLDFINCH (H. Walton Clark) [Illustrated] . ees
££ THE BERCH (Evelyn Singer) : ‘ ; ; 101
“/ THE CHIMNEY SWIFT [Illustrated] ; ; é ‘ : 107
* SWEET LITTLE FLOWERS (George W. Phillips, Jr.) [Poem]. 108
A MINING PROPOSITION (Ruth Marshall) 7 5 ; : 109
THE HORNED LARK ([lllustrated] : - i : ; x 110
BIRDS OF LYNN GROVE (Isaac FE. Hess) . 3 3 : 5 ¢
THE YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER (Collins Thurber) [Iilustrated] . 119
THE OPTIMISTIC GOLDENROD (Belle A. Hitcacock) [Poem] P : 121
THE WARBLING VIREO [Illustrated] : a ; : ; 2 122
THE WARBLING VIREO (Lulu Whedon Mitchell) [Poem] : : ; 126
CURIOUS PLANTS.—Part II. (Belle Paxson Drury) 4 : fae ‘ 126
THE WOOD PEWEE [Illustrated] ; : é P ie se 131
WHAT THE APPLE SAID (Louise Jamison) ; : 3 : ; 132
THE SNOWFLAKE (frank Morley Woodruff) [Illustrated] . i i 134
THE SANDERLING (Eliza Woodworth) [Poem] . 3 ; ke i 137
_—A BLACK BASS HATCHERY (Elizabeth Miles Derrickson) : ; ; 138
A SONNET (Mrs. M. A. MAITLAND) . : 5 rs : : F 139
MR. BLUE JAY—A NUTCRACKER (Harmonia Tate) - : ‘ 2 140
OCTOBER (Clara Kendrick Blaisdell) (Poem] : fi : ; i 140
THE STATE—COLORED JUNCO [Illustrated] ; ‘ : : . 143
ONE DAY (George H. Maitland) [Poem] : ‘ Z
Epited BY WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPH
Seat Be AE 28 ey Mi ie ge cate ge consent arate se bs te oo ates 8
73
:
‘
Pa er eel
aa Sout iA Hea te #
BIRDS AND NATU
Monthly, except J uly and August
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A ERAP.
From out the topmost bulb—a budding sentry—
A leaflet spread its green against the blue;
The songsters heralded its earthly entry
And it was christened in the morning’s dew.
All through the summer, on an oak that towered,
A stately captain of his lordly kind,
It fanned the birdlings in their nest embowered,
Or from their housing turned the churlish wind.
Then autumn chanting came, in vestments sober,
Bearing the cup of dissolution’s lees;
Forth in the majesty of hazed October,
A withered leaf was hearsed upon the breeze.
—Joun McGovern, “John McGovern’s Poems.”
97
THE GOLDFINCH.
— (Spinus tristis.)
Let almost any country boy tell over
the birds he knows by name, and one
of the first names to be mentioned oe
be “wild canary” or’ pele bird” a
he calls it.
There are several reasons why the
Goldfinch is one of the best known of
our native birds. The far-seen yellow,
gleaming like sunshine, contrasting
with the unillumined blackness of cap
and wings, distinguishes him from
every other bird, so there is no getting
him mixed up with his various rela-
tives or with some other fellow that
looks like him. The sight of one of
these birds perched on the rim of a
thistle chalice, busily pecking seed and
launching fleet after fleet_of airy -para-
chutes upon the dreamy autumn haze,
mingling a cheery call now and then,
is one of the most familiar and idyllic
of country scenes, and full of signifi-
cance too, as to the usefulness of the
bird.
The call, also, is one of the items
that helps make the bird well known,
for it is quite characteristic of him, and
he is never silent for a long time. It
is not a call that particularly attracts
the attention or makes any startling
break in the silence; it is not even a
clear whistle nor in any way a chal-
lenge to the attention nor a sustained
song, though he can sing when he tries.
It is rather a cheery, conversational
voice, that one learns to recognize just
as he does that of a friend.
Again, the Goldfinch is one of the
comparatively few birds that even the
amateur can distinguish by its flight.
One does not need to wait until it
alights to tell what it is. Its flight,
unlike that of any other of our birds,
is a series of undulations. It is like
some fairy boat bounding over waves
of air. As he approaches the top of
each crest, he utters a musical, cheery
teé-de-dee, so that you can actually
identify him in flight with your eyes
shut, or looking the other way.
Perhaps another thing that helps not
a little in the recognition of this bird
Cage:
98
dipping in gentle undulations.
is the fact that he reminds one some-
what of a canary, and there are few
circumstances more helpful toward see-
ing things than to have them in the
mind’s eye to begin with. Most of
the boys are of the opinion that the
bird is a-real canary that has erences
escaped, or not yet been captured, and
it is this bird, perhaps more than any
other that his wishes associate with a
not because it is more beautiful
or a sweeter songster, so far as he
knows, but because it is one of the
most familiar birds in this relation.
Most boys are of the opinion that:
the bird leaves us in winter; that is
because he changes his colors so com-
pletely in autumn that his best friends
recognize him only by his ways— his
voice and flight. He is now more
sparrow-like, with two white wing-
bars. Now he associates more with
others of his own kind and they fre-
quently gather in large flocks, and seek
out weedy places in neglected fields,
where they take care of the seeds.
When frightened, the flock arose to-
gether into the air, each one rising and
It is
as graceful as the aerial dances of
midges on a summer’s day; only there
is a forward motion, and as they weave
their way through the air, it occurs
to one that if they had only kept their
summer raiment, what a splendid cloth
of gold they would weave.
They are among the earliest birds we
hear in spring. Two birds alight on
the same or neighboring trees and
begin tee-heeing each other. In their
language it is perhaps only a friendly
conversation, but in human language
that “‘tee-hee” with which they salute
each other is one of the most guying
and derisive sounds on earth and it
would be difficult to imagine two chil-
dren bandying that sound back and
forth without serious results. Perhaps
if he had been known _ better: when
fables were in vogue some gentle Aesop
would point out to quarrelsome children
how this angelic bird keeps his temper
_
GOLDFINCH Copyrighted 1900, by
(Spi G5) A. W. Mumford, Chicago,
pinus tristis.
92 7-8 Life-Size.
ER ON Gr OTe ee EE 8 Ee ee oes eee
unruffled under the most exasperating
circumstances.
One of the most inconspicuous things
about him, a thing that many of his
acquaintances do not suspect him of,
is a most delightful song. It is a quiet
affair, surprisingly well sustained and
varied, and full of sweetness and
melody. It can occasionally be heard
in spring after the leaves have come
out well, but is most frequently heard
later, in July or August, after most
other birds have ceased singing. The
singer is almost always hidden in a
dense leafy covert, but one can recog-
nize the singer by familiar calls that
slip now and then into the song. It is
hard to decide after one has heard it
all, whether his song is a symphony of
his notes, or his notes are fragments
of his song.
This pretty bird is found throughout
temperate North America, from south-
ern Labrador, Manitoba and _ British
Columbia south, in winter, to the north-
ern boundary of Lower California. It
breeds southward to the middle districts
of the United States,' and it winters
mainly within. the United States. The
nest is a beautiful little structure of vege-
table fiber and is lined with vegetable
cotton or thistle down, and it is placed
at various heights in trees or bushes.
The eggs are pale bluish white and are
unspotted. H. WALTON CLARKE.
AMONG THE TREES.
THE BIRCH.
“How beautiful the country looks!”
thought Mabel, as perched on a grassy
knoll high up on the hillside, she looked
down into the valley beneath. “What
a variety of shades there are! Those
fields of wheat look just ready for the
reaper, and when the wind stirs them
they look like great billows of gold on
a mighty ocean. There, the oat fields
are swaying in the breeze; their blue-
green color contrasts so prettily with
the wheat. How beautiful the country
is! and what a pretty tree that is yon-
der! Its silvery-white bark shows so
plainly through the foliage how pecu-
jar it is! its limbs show so _ dis-
tinctly and it stands so straight and
erect on this slanting hillside. The
young branches with their small, light
green leaves droop like the weeping
willow. Let me think, what kind of a
tree is it. I believe I have it now.
‘Nor Birch, although its slender tress
Be beautifully fair,
As graceful in its loveliness
As maidens flowing hair.’ ”
These words she quoted, as she came
within its shadow and reached up, care-
fully drawing a long, graceful, trail-
ing twig near her and gently fin-
gered it.
“You are right, I am a Birch,” came
in low, musical notes to her ear.
“And your voice is as low and sweet
as your foliage is light and airy. You
are a singularly graceful tree and the
shade which you cast on the ground
reminds me of the walnut for I can see
the flickering lights and shadows when
the wind stirs your leaves. You are
like the walnut in another respect, for
Picaniesee *thetfnll: ‘outline tof. ..your
branches through your foliage.”
“In those respects I am like the wal-
nut, but unlike it in this, there is not
in my foliage the glint of gold which
101
you so admire in that tree.”
“Tell me about yourself, your family,
will you, Birch?”
“If you wish; perhaps you know that
we, like certain other trees, are of an
ancient family, for we date as far back
as the tertiary rocks. There are nine
branches of our family of which one,
the Canoe Birch, should belong to the
Indian alone, for it was so interwoven
with his life as to be of it a part. It
furnished him not only with snowshoes
and sledges but also with canoes and
paddles, with which in summer he
could glide down the mighty streams,
shoot the foaming rapids, or steering
out into the placid waters of the inland
seas, wander from island to island, fish-
ing or hunting; or when intent on war
its frail bark would bear him swiftly and
safely to his enemy. Or again, when
the streams were frozen over and the
lakes were sheets of ice, when the
ground was covered with snow and the
winds of winter were howling, he would
bind on his snowshoes, or harnessing
his dogs to his sled, be off like the
wind. =
“Nor was this all; when building his
wigwam, he would take strips of its
bark to thatch it, and thus protect him-
self and his family from the rough
storms of winter, and in summer’s heat,
its sap gave him a cooling drink, or
boiling it down, he had a syrup for his
corn bread. Is it any wonder that I
say the Canoe Birch should belong to
the Indian alone? Alas! the Indian no
longer roams the forests as he did of
old.”
“T suppose the Canoe Birch is the
one so closely connected with Hlia-
watha?”
“The very same; there was a man,
the poet Longfellow, who rightly un-
derstood our inner life. He does not
have Hiawatha ruthlessly destroy, or
mercilessly take but has him ask, for
does he not say ‘Give me.’ All through
that wonderful poem founded on the
legends of the North American Indian
it is not ‘I will take,’ but ‘Give me.’
Notice. |
‘Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree!
Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree!
Growing by the rushing river,
Tall and stately in the valley!
I a light canoe will build me,
Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
That shall float upon the river,
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily!’”
“And the tree with all its branches
Rustled in the breeze of morning,
Saying, with a sigh of patience,
‘Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!’ ”
finished Mabel.
“You know it then
“Yes; Hiawatha is one of my fav-
orite poems. Longfellow so described
the beauties of nature in telling those
Indian legends as to make it very fas-
cinating.”
“If I had hands I would clap them
for Longfellow, since I have not I will
rustle my many leaves.”
“Oh what a pretty picture you make;
but tell me some more.”
“About the Paper
3)
Birch, another
member of our family? Pliny and Plu-
tarch agree that famous books were
written on its bark fully seven hun-
dred years before Christ.
“Another member, the Hop Horn-
beam has wood so strong that it excels
in strength all other woods of the for-
est and to it has been given the wild-
wood name of Leverwood. This tree
bears its fruit in hop-like clusters and
each seed is enveloped in an inflated
bag. Being pale green in color they
contrast well with the dark leaves of
the tree which is a low-growing one,
generally standing in the dense shadow
of some larger tree.
“There is also the Yellow = Birem
whose beautiful, golden bark has
a silver sheen and the shreds when
separated curl about it, for all Birches
peel horizontally, like the ribbon deco-
rations of some fantastic lady. I sup-
pose we are the gypsies among trees,
for our apparel is always thread-bare
and ragged.” ;
“IT have often noticed bark peeled
like that on trees, but did not at first
know what it was; but tell me Birch
Tree, the bark is the most useful por-
tion of you is it not?” |
“T rather think it is, especially in
the far north, for you should know that
we grow farther within the Arctic Circle
than any other trees, even the firs. Our
inner bark is often bruied and mixed
with food to which it is a valuable ad-
dition, owing to the abundance of starch
which it contains.
“We are the only tree of Lapland
and we grow so small that it is said
six full-grown trees can be put in a
man’s overcoat pocket.”
“Pretty small trees,’ laughed Mabel,
“and I should say of little use on that
account.” |
“Not, so; they. use every Ditonous
there. Our bark is used in the manu-
facture of mats, cords, baskets and
waterproof boats and shoes. You won-
der how so small a tree can do sa
much! Well a strip of bark furnishes
an incredible number of thin sheets.
“They also use it as does the Indian,
in roofing their homes to protect them-
selves from snow and wind; strips are
twisted into torches and burn well,
102
owing to the oil which they contain.
Thus you see we light the hut which
we have helped to make. There also
our inner bark is used as food, but it is
eround into flour and then made into
bread.”
“The Laplander must indeed be proud
of you!”
“Tt is but a small journey from there
to down-trodden Finland where you
will see that the people virtually live on
wood; but there it is the shavings of
our wood with which they thatch their
roofs. The women of Finland use us
as brooms.”
_ “As brooms, how very strange! Pray
tell me how.”
“The simplest thing in the world.
A bundle of fresh green leaves are tied
together and with this she sweeps her
floors; it is the best kind of a broom
too, for it does not raise the dust only
to let it settle again, but the natural
dampness licks it up. The broom is
then burnt and next day another is
used. The Finnish woman is very par-
ticular about sweeping, for be it known
she sweeps her entire house every day.”
The Tree ceased, and Mabel sat
looking up at its beautiful foliage.
How she loved to be out among the
trees! She loved the wild freedom of
the woods and often said to herself
that there surely must be some Indian
in her. She could think of no more
delightful an outing than roaming
through woods or listlessly floating
down the river in her canoe.
“From Finland to Russia is but a
step,’ seemed to come from the Tree.
“You have heard of Russian leather?”
“Yes indeed; I own a pocket-book
Gf oe.- it Mas “a pleasant-.thouch a
peculiar smell.”’ -~
“That odor is due to an oil which
is distilled from our leaves and young
branches, and is used in the manufac-
ture of Russian leather. Perhaps you
have heard of its ptarmigan, that white
bird of the north?”
“Yes, and often longed to see it. The
poor thing!. Why does it not migrate
like other birds ”
“T’m sure I do not know unless it is
that it is so well provided with food
where it is.”
“Food, I should think its food would
be all covered over with the deep
snows!”
“Not so, for the bird feeds chiefly on
the seeds of the birch.”
“What are your seeds like?”
“Like the pussy willows. In some
parts of the world country lore tells us
that evil spirits seek and greedily de-
vour the seeds of the Sweet Birch.”
“How pretty the pussy willows are!
I love to rub them against my cheék.
Then too, the sight of them is always
so gladdening, for it speaks of the joy-
ous spring-time when all nature is
awakening from her long sleep. Have
you no legends in connection with your
family, Birch Tree?”
“No; but I can tell you an odd freak
of nature in connection with us, which
has only recently been discovered. It
seems that a quantity of Canadian
Birch timber was purchased for a cer-
tain chair factory. Now in the center
of one of these pieces, which was thirty-
six inches in thickness, there was found
a young birch tree two and a half
inches in diameter. Fortunately the
saw had not severed it, and it is to be
preserved.” |
“How did it get there?”
“Well, as it enjoyed an independent
existence, it is supposed that years ago
a seed fell into the hollow part of the
old tree and developed into a sapling
which forced its way up through the
trunk of the parent. This hollow was
completely filled for the distance of
several yards.”
bat 1s. edd:”
“Another strange story almost equal
to a legend, comes from the head
waters of the Stewart River in the
frozen north. At the first outbreak of
the Klondyke excitement, a, widower,
the father of two daughters, went north
from Spokane, Washington, to seek
his fortune in the gold fields. He lost
his life in a snowslide which occurred
as he was trying to cross one of the
passes. Now the brother of his dead
wife was also in the north, but he spent
toilsome years in prospecting and min-
ing; in company with a friend, he had
just begun to work some promising
claims when he was taken ill. They
103
were camping in the snow, and feel-
ing no doubt that the end was near, he
wished to send his beloved nieces a
message and to bequeath to them the
wealth which he had acquired. Search
was made for paper but none was to be
found, so by the light of a taper, prob-
ably made from the portion of the bark
of a birch tree, he wrote his will on a
piece of birch bark. Then Death seized
him for his own, and he was buried in
the snow.”
“How sad it is,’ said Mabel, as she
watched the scene beneath her. Far off
she could see men at work in the hay
fields, and mellowed by distance the
whirr of the mower was borne to her
ears. Brilliant hued butterflies were
flitting about like animated blossoms,
and the joyous notes of an oriole
sounded near. She looked about for
him, and espied his gorgeous form
swinging on a drooping limb of a
maple, as he sang to his more sober
colored mate on the nest. A light wind
stirred the trees, but gaily he sang on
his airy perch; the same breeze played
with the graceful, drooping twigs above
her and the rustling of the thin and
dainty leaves took form:
“The grand old oak grows slowly, it
takes its time and does’ its work well;
we grow quickly, for our life is short.
Our wood is often converted-into shoe
pegs and also into furniture which
passes for mahogany; but our bark is
lasting. We grow on windy hillsides
and on breezy tops, where often a
great storm blows one of our number
down. If allowed to lie, the heartwood
decays, but the bark remains intact, like
a huge pipe whole and sound.
“In the peat bogs of Lancashire and
Cheshire, England, pieces of birch bark
have been dug up which must have
lain there for thousands of years. The
wood has long since become a portion
of the peat, but the white bark was
sound and tough and bright as ever.
“Along the rocky shores of some of
your northern lakes, you would see
strange sights, and so would any one
who loved Nature and sought for her,
shall I say hidden, secrets? No; for
they are plain enough to those who
look.”
pei Birch
understand your meaning,
104
Tree. Many take a glance and pass
on without a thought; others again, see
so much in a glance because they love
Nature and all her marvellous ways.
Some see trees and know that they
have life because they grow, others be-
lieve that they have feeling.”
“There you have it! Which one of
your great writers said: ‘A bird alight-
ing on a small branch sends a thrill
through the whole tree,’ and again: ‘I
believe that every little rose has its own
sorrows and joys’?”
The tree was silent as though mus-
ing on the different phases of human
character. Mabel waited for a while
and then asked:
“Have you forgotten what you were
going to tell me about the rocky shores
of those lakes?”
“Oh, said the Birch Tree as it roused
from its reverie, “well, a birch seed
will perhaps be carried by the wind or
dropped by a bird in a fissure of a
rock. It, sprouts, there iss sufficient
moisture for the tesder roots and it
grows quickly; the roots become
stronger, and sometimes split the rock
open in their search for deep earth and
food. Or again, the slended roots wan-
der over the surface of the rock unti.
they reach the earth, and the tree grows
tall and straight to the height of sixty
feet or more, with the roots still encirc-
ling the rock.”
“There are indeed strange things in
Nature’s world,” said Mabel.
“Yes, if one has but the seeing eye to
search them out; you, for instance, have
enjoyed life more thoroughly since you
have carried about with you the ‘ears
of imagination.’ ”’
“Tndeed I have,” said Mabel, and then
she fell into a train of thought. How
many wonderful things she had learned
of late! What new zest was imparted
to her life! Long and earnestly she
waited for the Birch Tree to speak but
although it rustled its dainty leaves and
the long tendrils swayed gracefully in
the wind, no sweet, low words like the
voice of the Tree reached her ears.
Still she remained, for the breezy hill-
side was a delight to her, and the
scene beneath her was a pleasant one
indeed. EvELYN SINGER.
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Copyrighted 1900, by
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THE CHIMNEY SWIFT.
(Chetura pelagica.)
The range of these well-known birds
is quite extensive for it includes North
America east of the Great Plains, from
the Fur Countries southward. They
breed from Florida and Texas north-
ward and seemingly winter ‘south of
the United States. They are very com-
monly called Chimney Swallows and
while there is a general resemblance
between them and the swallows they
are much more closely related to the
Whippoorwills and Hummingbirds and
are now classed between these two
groups. The Swifts are remarkably
gregarious excepting during the nest-
ing season.
gregated in such large flocks as to
quite darken areas underneath them.
This social habit also extends to their
period of rest for they are known to
roost together in certain large hollow
trees and even in large chimneys which
have become popular with them as
lodging places. Audubon and Wilson,
as well as more recent writers on the
habits of birds, record instances where
_very large numbers of these birds have
resorted to large hollow trees which
served them as a roosting place from
which they would issue at the break
of day with such a rush as to create
a loud noise. Mr. Langille, in -his
book “Our Birds in Their Haunts,”
speaks of one very interesting instance
which came under his observation. It
was an-.enormous brick chimney be-
longing to a large stone building which
- was. once used as a distillery. Around
the top of this towering chimney he
_ saw “an immense cloud of many hun-
dred, perhaps, thousands, of Chimney
Swifts.” As he saw them, they were
“whirling and gyrating in swift evolu-
tions, the whole body moving in the
same direction like a feathered whirl-
pool, their wings beating with aston-
ishing rapidity, and the volume of their
sharp twitter being almost deafening.”
The black cloud while still whirling
became more dense as it neared the
They are frequently con-
chimney-top and every few minutes
a section of the great host dropped
into it. Mr. Langille watched them
until the greater number had thus dis-
appeared. He says that this was a
common scene about the old distillery
and that it may have occurred from
the time of the arrival of these birds
in the spring to the time of their de-
parture in the fall. As he thought the
chimney might be the breeding place
of the Swifts, he watched the inside
from an opening which gave a full
view of the whole interior but did not
at any time detect a nest. He believed
that the chimney was simply a grand
place of rendezvous. As it was no-
ticeable that the number which fre-
quented the chimney was reduced dur-
ing the time of nidification, it seemed
probable that it was then used as a
general resort for the males. Mr.
Ridgeway in his “Ornithology of Illi-
nois”’ sites an instance of where a
sycamore tree which was hollow its
entire length was used as a lodging
place by the Swifts. The birds com-
menced to assemble around the top of
this tree about half past seven in the
evening until three or four thousand
had arrived, when they rapidly disap-
peared beneath the foliage. It was
said that the tree had been thus used
by the Swifts for mine successive
years. In the morning, the birds left
(ieiterestine|. place at sunrise. The
tree was deserted at the appearance
of frost in the fall.
The family of Swift’s is cosmopolitan
in range, but east of the Rocky Moun-
tains, like its nearest relatives, the
family of hummingbirds, it is repre-
sented by but one species, the Chimney
Swift. Before the advent of man and
his habitations and factories with their
chimneys, the Swifts nested altogether
in hollow trees, selecting, as a rule,
those with a large hollow trunk which
had an opening at the top like a
chimney. At the present time, the
Swifts usually nest in chimneys, a fact
which well illustrates how readily birds
will change their habits when the con-
ditions presented are more favorable.
In the chimney they are free from the
enemies which annoy them when they
are nesting in trees. In the unsettled
and wilder portions of the country,
they ar2 still known to nest in hollow
trees. The nests are bracketlike struc-
tures (f twigs which are fastened to-
gether and to the supporting wall by
an adhesive secretion of the birds’ sali-
vary glands. These glands become
much smaller after the breeding season
is completed. The cement-like secre-
tion hardens into a very firm substance
which not only securely holds the twigs
together but also, as firmly attaches the
mest pLO_ its ‘Support. 1t 1s Msaid vthat
in separating the nests from the sides
of chimneys, sometimes the bricks will
break before the cement will yield.
Few birds bear a more appropriate
common name than the one we illus-
trate. The word Chimney is appro-
priate because of their nesting and
roosting habits, and anyone who has
observed their flight will agree that the
word Swift is a most satisfactory name.
So rapid and powerful is the flight at
times, that it is not surpassed if even
equalled by any other birds. It is said
that the Swifts may fly a thousand
miles in a single full day. They rest
only in their lodging places, to which
places they do not seem anxious to
retire even when darkness approaches.
While resting, they do not perch but
cling with their claws to the walls
and are partly supported by their tails.
While the Swifts sometimes fly quite
late at night, they are really crepuscu-
lar rather than nocturnal in their habits.
In dull and cloudy weather they may
hunt their insect prey, which is al-
ways captured while flying, throughout
the whole day. During brighter days,
however, they chiefly hunt during the
early morning and late in the after-
noon. It is true that “few sights in
the bird-world are more familiar than
the bow-and-arrow-like forms of these
rapidly flying birds silhoueted against
the sky.”
SWEET LITTLE FLOWER. |
Sweet little flower! so fair, so frail,
How cans’t thou bear the ruthless gale?
Surely some power must bid it spare
So sweet a flower, so frail, so fair.
The earth is happier for thee,
‘ And yet what chance if any see!
The air is sweeter for thy breath,
But who will know or heed thv death?
If thou wert human, little flower,
Thou’d pine and perish in an hout,
Instead of blooming, day by day,
Contented by the lonely way.
O heart of mine, though full with pain,
What reason hast thou to complain?
When thou wouldst murmur at thy lot,
Remember the Forget-me-not.
—GeorGE W. PHILLIPS, JR.
A MINING PROPOSITION.
Breakfast was late one hot morning
last August. So we walked out on the
porch to possess our souls in patience
as best we could. There was no need
of hurry after all. At the end of the
porch was a luxuriant growth of wild
clematis. We idly sauntered up to it
and picked off a leaf, which we were
just about to throw away when our at-
tention was taken by some queer mark-
ings upon it. What was the matter
with it? In fact, what was the matter
with most of the leaves on the vine?
Brownish serpentine lines were on all
of them, each beginning in a small,
round spot which curved out, widening
as they progressed. Some were short,
some were Several inches long. What
could they be? Not marks on the leaf,
but something inside; we could see a
tiny tunnel, with a thin roof over its
length. We seated ourselves on the
steps and went to work to solve the
mystery, with a pin for a dissecting in-
strument. No lens was at hand, but
perhaps sharp eyes would do. We
started with a big tunnel. Sure enough,
the roof was the delicate upper epi-
dermis of the leaf; something had dug
out the green parenchyma cells leaving
the lower epidermis intact for the floor
of the excavation. It must be some-
thing very tiny indeed to find room to
the miner, the tiniest little white grub
or caterpillar snugly curled up, and al-
most too small to be seen with the
naked eye.
Now it was all clear, going back the
other way, the ever narrowing tunnel
ended, or rather began, in a little round
spot. It was a case of circumstantial
evidence. Some mother insect had laid
a speck of an egg in the leaf under the
epidermis. The larva emerged and
ate the food at hand, the green cells.
When this was gone, it ate on forward
work between the upper and lower
edges of a leaf. We would follow up
the tunnel and find the miniature work-
ee. ihe chase grew exciting, as the
clumsy pin tore away slowly the deli-
cate tissue of the roof. Finally the en-
larged end was reached and there was
109
in a winding line, till now, its appetite
appeased, it was ready to turn into a
pupa. To confirm our suspicions of the
parentage of this little miner, we now
noticed the presence of several minute
moths flying here and there over the
leaves as if looking for places to deposit
more eggs which should hatch into
more miners and make more blotches
on our clematis vine.
It was a long time after breakfast
was finally eaten that we found out the
family history of the leaf miners. There
are many of them, so say the insect
books, and each species mines a dif-
ferent kind of a leaf. Some mines are
long and narrow, and these are called
the linear. Some are narrow at the be-
ginning and enlarge rapidly and curve,
and so they get the name of trumpet
mines. Those which we investigated
are the serpentine. Some leaf miners
are flies, some are beetles, but most of
them, like ours, are tiny moths, the pig-
mies of their race, to whom a leaf of-
fers an ample field for operations.
RutH MARSHALL.
THE HORNED LARK.
( Otocoris alpestris.)
It is quite disappoining that the
beautiful Horned Lark, or Shore Lark
as it is frequently called, should only
be known in the United States during
the winter season, when it is songless
and its time is spent only in the practi-
cal work of obtaining food. On the
western continent it breeds only in
northeastern British America as_ far
west as Hudson Bay, and southward
through Newfoundland and Labrador.
It also breeds in Greenland and North-
ern Europe. Its fall journeys extend
its range as far westward as Manitoba
and southward into the United States
as iat as~ Illinois,, Ohio “and yon the
Atlantic coast to North Carolina. The
Horned Larks come to their winter
home in flocks varying from a dozen
or so.to a very large number. Upon
the Atlantic coast they appear in Oc-
tober or November but the larger
flocks soon break up into srmalier
groups, each of which settles in some
locality where’ there seems fo bea
sufficient food supply. Gere tiey
usually remain until they have exhaust-
ed the supply of food and are obliged
to ‘seck a new field) Whey -~ iced an
large numbers upon the flats left bare
by the retreating tide. In the interior
of the country they frequent — large,
flat and open tracts and are seldom
seen in wooded localities.
The Horned Larks are in reality al-
ways terrestrial, seldom aspiring to a
perch higher than the top of an ordi-
nary fence. They walk and run with
perfect ease upon the ground or upon
the snow. When disturbed they do
not fly, as a rule, except when forced
to do so in order to escape and then
they fly high and utter a sharp whis-
tled note.
In their summer home, the Horned
Larks are said to sing a charming song
which is uttered while the bird soars.
110
Mr. Audubon says: “The male soars
into the air, sings with cheerfulness
over the resort of his mate, and roosts
beside her and his nest on the ground,
having at this season a very remark-
able appearance in the development of
the black and horn-like egrets.” Mr.
Langille gives an interesting account
of the male’s song habits. “Hearing
its song, now quite familiar to me, I
strolled warily through the open field,
hoping to find its nest. But whence
came the song? It was as puzzling as
the voice of a ventriloquist. Now it
seemed on the right, and now on the
left, and now in some other direction.
Presently I caught the way of the
sound, and lo! its author was soaring
high in the air, moving in short curves
up,.up, singing for a few moments as
it sailed with expanded wings before
each flitting curve upward, till it be-
Came a mere speck in the Zzenitnaae
finally I could scarcely tell whether I
saw it or not. But I still heard the
song, one that never can be mistaken,
so unlike is it to that of any other
bird.” Finally the bird started to de-
scend and Mr. Langille says: “Down,
down it comes, meteor-like, with wings
almost closed, until one fears it will
dash out its life on the earth. But
no, it alights in safety, and steps along
with all its wonted stateliness.”
The nests of the Horned Larks are
built in a depression in the surface of
the ground which is copiously lined
with fine grasses, moss and feathers.
Sometimes the nesting is begun while
the snow is still upon the ground near
the chosen nesting site. Instances
have also been reported in which after
the eggs had been laid, snow had fallen
to such an extent that the. faithful
sitting bird was nearly or quite cov-
ered.
From col. F. M. Woodruff. HORNED LARK. Copyrighted 1900, by
(Otocoris alpestris.) A.W. Mumford, Chicago.
94 4-5 Life-size.
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wig
BIRDS OF LYNN GROVE.
Upon an elevation conspicuous for a
radius of twenty miles and known as
one of the highest points in Illinois,
stands Lynn Grove,—one of Nature’s
beauty spots. A hundred acres’of heavy
natural timber so entirely foreign to its
immediate surroundings of black roll-
ing prairie land, is an unusual sight.
Indeed we who dwell near this beautiful
grove feel that Nature in a most lavish
mood overstepped her natural laws in
the creation of this jewel of the prair-
ies.
It stands alone in its majesty, having
neither forest nor stream connection
with the neighboring timber-belts which
stretch away in long blue lines, five
miles distant on either side. We find
no streams of water gurgling and mur-
muring through its forest aisles and
looking upon so noble a gathering of
giant trees we wonder at its conception.
Great sycamores and _ shell-barks
abound along the streams of the neigh-
boring forests but both are absent here.
In their places are lofty honey-locusts
lifting their heads to dizzy heights ;—
great, spreading walnuts grown to the
size of oak trees, while the oaks them-
selves, not to be outdone by inferiors,
have reached magnificent proportions.
An outer wall of thorn-trees, wild crabs
and plum thickets surrounds
sides. The humbler growths of sap-
lings, with heavy masses of paw-paw
and wild gooseberry form an ideal un-
three
daring proved his undoing.
dergrowth. At every suggestion of an _
open spot a lynn (or bass-wood) has
sprung toward the sun, and the great
_ number of these trees present has given
the grove its name.
High, and distinctly outlined against
the horizon, Lynn Grove is a veritable
bird magnet, a mighty gathering place
for the hosts of feathered creatures
journeying southward in the autumn
and returning in the spring. Pierced
geographically by the fortieth parallel,
the grove nestles between two bird
zones. Latitude forty is the northern
limit of many southern species as well
as the southern border line of many
stragglers from the north. Hence we
113
may reasonably expect (and are often
rewarded with) opportunities in forming
new acquaintances in the bird world.
Occasionally we are surprised with un-
looked for visitors, for Kites have sailed
and Bald Eagles have screamed over
her mass of inviting tree tops. But
who would expect to meet that noble
specimen, the Golden Eagle, in an in-
land grove of Illinois? Yet a fine seven-
foot “Aquilla” left his home among the
Rock Mountain crags to spend three
happy weeks feeding upon the rabbits
of Lynn Grove. It is to be regretted
that such a life was taken, but his mag-
netic presence excited Nimrodic ambi-
tions among the farmer boys and his
During
May and early June the grove is liter-
ally alive with Warblers and an early
morning visit in time for the awakening
of the chorus, will prove a never-to-be-
forgotten one. Twenty species of this
attractive family have been observed
here on a single day in May. During
August, Robins in armies of thousands,
Grackles in hordes, and Red-Wings
with innumerable kindred spirits, gather
and spend several weeks feeding upon
the berries, before their departure for
the south.
Living in close proximity for several
years and being permitted through the
kindness of the owners to enter and ex-
plore at will, I have spent many happy
and profitable hours taking bird census
in Lynn Grove. My visits have usually
begun in early spring, for while much
is yet to be learned about the winter
habits. of the birds, our actual winter
residents form so small a list, that the
uncertainty of meeting them on mid-
winter days, tends to lessen rather than
encourage the enthusiasm attending
later visits. Winter lingers long with
us in central Illinois and so powerful
is her grip that when the first week of
March has arrived we see no visible
sign of her departure. The clouds are
of the same gray hue and the bleak
winds moan in the same key that sad-
dened the February days and lengthén-
ed that shortest month of the year into
a seemingly interminable period. Usual-
ly, however, about the second week in
March a miracle is performed. One
morning the sun rises in a cloudless
sky, a gentle clinging breeze creeps in
from the south and we hear soft whis-
pers of promises in the air. Even the
dead snow on the southern slopes
seems to awaken into life and with a
last flash and sparkle, disappears.
Something, invisible but intoxicating,
lays hold upon us and we are restless.
From past experiences, we know that all
nature is responding to the voice of
spring and we are seized with an irre-
sistible longing to hasten to the grove
and tell it to the birds. Before we reach
the woods, however, we find the secret
is out. The birds already know it and
have been for days preparing to cele-
brate this very morning. High in the
air, from some quarter in heaven, it
seems, comes softly floating down the
first Bluebird notes of the season.
Surely these little birds with the blue
sky on their backs, are blessed with in-
tuitive power, for are they not here and
does this not prove that a day and a
night’s journey away, they had heard
the whisperings of spring?
Entering the woods we find the
Crows wild with delight, and would you
believe it?-—there is almost melody in
their caws to-day. High overhead a
Red-tailed Hawk is lazily drifting and
I shortly find his mate reconstructing
their last summer’s home. Here again
we see evidence of several days’ antict-
pation of spring’s arrival. How do they
know? Does Nature in her loving min-
istrations speak to these, her wilder
children, in quite another language?
How humiliating to feel that we, of the
genus “homo”—heirs of a superior in-
telligence, are tardiest of all God’s crea-
tures in interpeting Nature’s various
tongues.
The fine March morning brings out
the entire feathered population of the
grove with the exception of the three
resident owls. The Great Horned,
Little Screech and Long-eared repre-
sentatives of this family are not attracted
by the sunshine and remain in hiding
in the dark corners and hollow trees.
They are among the few birds that are
little affected with changes in weather
conditions.
From every quarter of the timber
comes the rolling taps of the Downy
and Hairy Woodpeckers. These vigor-
ous little fellows have found their favor-
ite sounding boards and each key of
the scale is represented, with all the
sharps and flats. Interspersed with the
rolls, we hear the loud “chinks” of the
excited [Hairy Woodpeckers and the
same notes of lesser volume, from his
miniature cousin, the Downy.
Running up and down the main
trunks of the trees we see numbers of
White-breasted and Red-bellied Nut-
hatches—the little upside-down birds.
The former is a constant resident with
us and is perhaps even now looking for
a suitable site in which to rear his in-
teresting family of eight or nine chil-
dren. The latter, however, is not sat-
isfied to stay with us and within a few
weeks will be well on his way toward
his northern summer home in Canada.
Following the Nuthatches in their
search for insects in the bark, are the
Brown Creepers. These tiny little birds
have a peculiar habit which distinguish-
es them from other species at a dis-
tance. Ascending the trunk of a tree
in a spiral climb, they usually leave
it after reaching the first limb. A short
flight then brings them to the bottom
of the next tree, which is mounted in
the same manner, each tree in turn
being ascended round and round, in a
114
way suggestive of an inclined plane.
The long, curved bill of this bird enables
it to reach the inner crevices of the bark
and obtain the insect food passed over
by the larger birds. The notes of the
Creeper are so like those of the little
Kinglets, that they are with difficulty
distinguished. The spring love-song of
the Kinglet, however, is a superior pro-
duction; in fact, one of the richest of all
bird melodies. Only snatches of it are
heard here, just enough to prove the
little performer worthy of the praises
bestowed upon it by its fervent admir-
ers from the north. Both of these
diminutive birds spend the summer
months in the pine woods of the north-
ern states and Canada.
With the Woodpeckers, Nuthatches
and Creepers performing their several
parts, the trees are fairly well stripped
of insect life, the outer branches only
being neglected. Here we find that
little favorite, the Black-capped Chicka-
dee, lively and acrobatic; now grasping
the tip of the outermost twig; now
hanging head downward, in his zeal in
fulfilling the mission Nature has assign-
ed to him. The Chickadees are content
to remain with us and although the
grove is near the southern limits of the
Black-cap’s range, several pairs may be
found here most any day during the
year.
The Chickadee is an excavator and
hews out the cavities for his nests
like the Woodpeckers. His bill, how-
ever, is not so hard as those of his
larger friends and he must needs find a
softer wood in which to ply his chisel.
For this reason you will find the dead
stumps of the wild plum trees to be his
favorite nesting sites. The cavities are
hewn out with marvelous neatness, the
entrance being as true a circle as could
be made by man with tools. Much
taste is exhibited in the selection of
nesting material, only the very softest
fur, hair and feathers being used.
When the nest is completed, the little
owners become almost fearless of man
and this sociability has endeared them
to bird lovers to such an extent, that
they are easily the favorites with the
majority of observers. One of my
Chickadee experiences will never be
forgotten and the memory of it is
sufficient to draw me to their haunts,
each succeeding spring, in pleasant
gmicipation..,/.1 . had..found»: one. - of
their homes in a plum stump, and
to determine how far the nesting
had advanced, I inserted a finger in
the entrance. Immediately I felt .a
succession of vigorous pecks, and upon
withdrawing my hand, Mrs. Chicka-
dee appeared. DBristling with anger
at being disturbed, she alighted upon
my wrist. With ruffled feathers she
slowly walked up my forearm, turning
her head to view me with either eye.
After giving me an unmistakeable scold-
ing, she seemed satisfied with my hum-
bled appearance and my promises to be
good, and carefully smoothing her
feathers, she saluted me with “chicka-
little friend, and their spirited “day,
day, day’s,” recall the fact that a month
later will find them busily engaged with
home duties.
Two other birds are Beye to swell
the March chorus and both are whist-
lers. The louder of the two musicians
is a Cardinal, and we look with pleasure
for a flash of his bright crimson coat.
We shortly see him (and to his best ad-
vantage) scratching in a snow bank,
and here Nature presents to us, her
strongest and most vivid color con-
trast.
The other whistler, (perhaps the more
pleasing because of the softer tones) is
a Tufted Titmouse, and his ‘‘purley”
“purley” “purley” is heard from every
direction. When you find him (for he
is a sort of ventriloquist and hard to
place), you will be surprised at having
to credit so plain a bird with such sweet
liquid notes as you hear falling from his
day, day, day,” and hopped back to her
duty to the hidden treasures.
This troop of Chickadees enlivening
the March woods reminds me of my
115
throat. Two more birds end our March
day’s list; the Blue Jay and the Blue-
bird. Both are conspicuous in the sky’s
brightest shade of blue, but how differ-
ent are their natures. . The- former’s
notes are loud and ringing, with defi-
ance and a challenge in each cry. The
latter’s song is soft and mournful, with
a seeming sob in every note. The Jay,
though admired for beauty of form and
feather, is despised and shunned by
man and bird because of his cruel
nature; while the Bluebird, with gentle-
ness exhibited in every movement, is
beloved by all.
The winter residents of the grove
number about twenty-five species. Of
these, fourteen stay throughout - the
summer season and are therefore the
only true residents. The great spring
migration brings a procession of forty-
three species which spend the summer
months in the grove, rearing their fami-
lies. These we list as “summer resi-
dents.”
Stragglers are arriving all through
the month of April and not until late
in May does the last traveler return.
By the 25th of May, we may safely
conclude that all non-residents have
departed northward and any bird seen
after that date is almost sure to spend
the summer with us.
On the first warm morning of April
we will doubtless be able to record a
number of interesting home comers.
Sweeping the skies in graceful evolu-
tions, the great silent Turkey Vultures
are showing unmistakeable delight at
being home again. Three giant trees
with huge cavities are awaiting their
tenants. They are typical “Buzzard”
residences and at least one is occupied
every season. A month later a visit to
one of these homes will reveal the
mother Vultures silently covering two
great, handsome eggs, the most beau-
tifully marked of all bird’s eggs.
Upon all sides we hear a constant
rattling of the dead leaves covering the
ground and investigation shows the
presence of an army of Towhees.
These shy, but conspicuously feathered
birds have just arrived and are rapidly
turning over the leaves of their new
feeding grounds. His lively musical
“chewink” regularly dashed between
scratches, has a pleasing tinkle to ears
listening and longing for early spring
melodies.
The Red-bellied and Red-headed
Woodpeckers, with the Flickers, arrive
in unison, augmenting the Hairy and
Downy forces already here. Such ‘an
army of woodchoppers soon set the
chips a-flying, while the woods ring
with the combination of noise-making
efforts. The Hairy nests in April; the
Downy, Red-bellied and Flicker in
May; while the Red-head, for reasons
known only to himself waits until June
to begin housekeeping..
Already we hear the loud emphatic
notes of the Great Crested Flycatcher,
one of the most interesting of our birds.
If he is not king of the woods, it is not
because he has not proclaimed himself
as such. His self-satisfied demeanor
and proud bearing would seem to indi-
cate his natural right to the honor, and
yet we do not know what he has done
to merit the title’: He is aneeecentric
fellow and through a peculiar inherited
trait he. has puzzled the ornithologists
for ages. He exhibits an odd mania for
adorning the walls of his tree-cavity
home with cast off snake skins,—a bar-
baric taste which seems to be regulated
only by the source of supply.
We do not visit the grove again until
116
May, and lo! it is as though touched by
a magic wand. The trees are heavily
dressed in that eye-restful green, the
ground richly carpeted with “Blue-eyed
Marys” and Violets and the delightful
perfume of May apple blossoms per-
vades the air. Bees are humming and
birds are wildly singing. The eye is
delighted, the ear is ravished, the heart
is enraptured and held.
At regular intervals a series of “Aeol-
ian’? notes thrumb to the breeze; it is
the perfect melody of the Wood Thrush.
We hear the wildly happy carols of the
Rose-breasted Grosbeak, intermixed
with the “chip” “churs” of the Scarlet
Tanagers. The garrulous caws of the
Crows are softened by the sonorous
“quanks” of the Nuthatch. The hoarse
croaks of the ponderous Great Blue
Herons at work on their nests in the
tops of the honey locust trees, seem -to
filla natural place in the woodland con-
cert. Startlingly close to my elbow, I
hear the Red-eyed Vireo with his never
ending questions, “did you see me,”
“prove it,” “who saw me?” In his sad
and mournful strain the Wood Pewee
answers, “Wee-o.”
The quick, nervous calls of the
Crested Flycatcher, the excited cack-
ling of the Cooper’s Hawk, the screams
of the Red-tail, the squawks of the
Night Heron and the resonant chal-
lenge of the querulous Jay, have their
parts in the woodland chorus. The
simple, earnest whistle of the Bob
White, the hurried warblings of the
House Wren, the soft mourning of the
Dove, the happy care-free ditties of the -
Indigo Bunting and Yellow-throat, and
the sweet chatter of the Goldfinch are
so soothing in effect that I am content
to sit and listen to the wonderful med-
ley. The first days of May in the woods
surpass all others in the year, for it is
Nature’s season of thanksgiving, when
birds and bees and flowers and trees
give praise and honor and glory to the
Creator.
Evening’s shadows are stealing upon
me and I am loth to leave, for well do
I know that a full cycle of months must
roll around before the glories of this
season shall be repeated.
Isaac E. Hess.
z
From col. F, M. Woodruff.
95
YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER,
(Sphyrapicus varius.)
3-5 Life-size.
Pe
:
Pie \
Ex
at
A cont 4 WK
Copyrighted 1900, by
A. W. Muinford, Chicago.
THE YELLOW-BELLIED SAPSUCKER.
(Sphyrapicus varius.)
The Woodpecker family is of great
interest not only for the variety of
brilliant and striking colors which mark
many of the species but also for its
unusual structual peculiarities, the
heavy, chisel-like bill, the sharply-
clawed feet with two toes pointing be-
hind and two ahead, the stout tail-
feathers used to help support the body
against the tree trunk, and lastly its
peculiar sharp bristle-barbed tongue.
This combination of odd characters has
produced a very curious and interesting
group of birds.
Of the twenty-five species of wood-
peckers which inhabit the United States,
one of the most interesting is the Yel-
low-bellied Woodpecker or Sapsucker.
It is a conspicuous bird, easily known
by its bright red head and throat, and
black and white streaks on the sides of
the head and the greenish-yellow color
of the ‘breast and under parts. It is
not as active as most of the other
woodpeckers, being apparently of a
sluggish nature. Indeed, so slow is
this bird to fly when approached that
one may almost put their hand upon it
before it will take flight. Like its rel-
atives, it has the habit of always be-
ing on the opposite side of the tree
trunk.
The Yellow-bellied Sapsucker is the
most migratory of the woodpeckers,
wintering from [Illinois and Pennsyl-
vania southward and breeding from this
section northward. Its range includes
the whole of Eastern and Northern
North America from Costa Rica and
the West Indies to Texas, Nova Scotia,
Kansas, North Dakota, Manitoba, On-
tario, Great Slave Lake, and British
Columbia; it is accidental in Green-
land. In the latitude of northern [lli-
nois the birds arrive about the first of
April on their northern migration, and
in the New England States about two
weeks later.
- completed.
119
Liké that of other woodpeckers, the
nest is made.in the hole of a tree from
eight to fifty feet from the ground.
The hole is excavated by the bird to
a depth of some twenty inches. Un-
like the perching birds this Woodpecker
does not line its nest with soft mate-
rials but lays its eggs onabed of chips
left from cutting its hole. The eggs
are five to seven in number, glossy
white, and measure about seven-tenths
by nine-tenths of an inch. The eggs
are laid one each day until the set is
Both parents assist in the
important function of incubation. The
young are fed wholly upon insects, the
sap-eating habit being acquired after
they have learned to fly. During the
time the young are in the nest the
old birds become as adept at catching
insects on the wing as flycatchers, and
it is a very curious, and sometimes a
ludicrous sight, to observe these un-
gainly birds perform their aerial gym-
nastics in their efforts to catch these
insects.
Of all the woodpeckers, the Yellow-
beilied Sapsucker is practically the
only one which is harmful to the agri-
culturist, and this is true only in cer-
tain localities. The bird is insectivor-
ous like its fellows, but adds to its
misect “dict the sap of trees as well
as the inner bark or cambium. Its
method is to drill a hole in the tree
and allow the sap to flow. This is
repeated over and over again until a
tree is fairly girdled with these punc-
tures. Not only are fruit trees thus
girdled but also shade trees, such as
birch, maple, oak and ash. This bird
has been observed at work of late in
Lincoln Park, Chicago, some of the
maple trees having the sap running
from the punctures like water.
In bulletin number seven of the Di-
vision of Ornithology and Mammalogy
of the United States Department of
Agriculture, Min: EF Eye. Beales aol
lowing Dr. Merriam, makes the fol-
lowing interesting reference to the sap-
sucking habits of this Woodpecker.
“They really do considerable mischief
by drilling holes in the bark of apple,
thorn-apple, and mountain ash trees in
such a way as to form girdles of
punctures, sometimes two feet or more
in breadth (up and down), about the
tronks and (branches A. 5 Sa a ae
holes, which are sometimes merely sin-
gle punctures, and sometimes squarish
spaces (multiple punctures) nearly half
an inch across are placed so near to-
gether that not infrequently they cover
more of the tree than the remaining.
bark.
bark is sometimes removed from the
girdled portions, and the balance often
dries up and comes off. Therefore it
is not surprising that trees which have
been extensively girdled generally die
and mountain ash are much more prone
to do so than either apple or thorn-
apple trees, due, very likely, to their
more slender stems. The motive which
induces this species to operate thus upon
young and healthy trees is, I think, but
partly understood. It is unquestion-
ably true that they feed, to a certain
extent both upon the inner bark’ and
the fresh sap from these trees, but that
the procurement of these two elements.
of sustenance, gratifying as they
doubtless are, is their chief aim in
making the punctures I am inclined to
dispute. As the sap exudes from the
newly made punctures, thousands of
flies, yellow-jackets, and other insects
congregate about the place, till the hum
of their wings suggests a swarm of
bees. If now, the tree be watched, the
Woodpecker will soon be seen to return
and alight over the part of the girdle
which he has most recently punctured.
Here he remains, with motionless body,
and feasts upon the choicest species
from the host of insects within easy
reach. In making each girdle they work
around the trunk, and from below up-
wards, but they may begin a new girdle
below an old one. They make but few
holes each day, and after completing
two or three remain over the spot for
some little time, and as the clear fresh
Hence, more than half of the.
120
sap exudes and trickles down the bark
they place their bill against the de-
pendent drop and suck it in with evi-
dent relish—a habit which has doubt-
less given rise to the more appropriate
than elegant term Sapsucker, by which
they are commonly known in some
parts of the country. I have several
times watched this performance at a
distance of less than ten feet, and all
the details of the process were dis-
tinctly seen, the bird looking at me,
meanwhile, “out of the corner of his
eye. When his thirst 1s) ‘samshed
he silently disappears, and as silently
returns again, after a few hours, to
feast upon the insects that have been
attracted to the spot by the escaping
sap. This bird, then, by a few strokes
of its bill, is enabled to secure both
food (animal and vegetable) and drink
in abundance for an entire day; and a
single tree, favorably situated, may suf-
fice for a whole season.”
Mr. Beal states that the insect food
of this Woodpecker is made up of ants,
wasps, beetles, flies, bugs, grasshop-
pers, crickets, and mayflies; a few
spiders are also eaten. Of these in-
sects, thirty-six per cent consisted of
ants, five per cent of beetles and six
per cent was made up of bugs, wasps,
caterpillars, crickets and mayflies. This
constituted a large per cent of the diet.
Of the spiders the ‘daddy-longlegs’
made up by far the largest percentage.
Among the fruit and other vegetable
food are dogwood berries, black alder-
berries, Virginia creeper berries, wild
black cherries, blackberries or raspber-
ries, poison ivy seeds, mullin seeds and
juniper berries. From the above food
list it will be seen that this Woodpecker
is not entirely injurious, but does really
destroy some noxious insects.
The tongue of the Sapsucker is very
curious. Unlike its relatives in the
woodpecker family it is not barbed nor
is it as long or as extensible. It is
comparatively short and thick and the
tip and sides of the end are provided
with fine, strong hairs. These are sup-
posed to aid in guiding the flow of sap
into the mouth. The tongue is not used
as a dart, as in many other woodpeck-
ers, the bill alone being used to pick
up insects, aS in most insectivorous
birds.
The note of this Woodpecker is said
to resemble the low mew of a cat, and
it is most often heard in the spring.
This is in great contrast with the loud
rattle-like cry of its relative the red-
headed woodpecker. In the Pacific coast
region the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker is
replaced by the red-naped sapsucker,
which has similar tree-girdling habits.
Another common western form is the
red-breasted sapsucker, which is common
in Oregon and California.
CoLLINs THURBER.
THE OPTIMISTIC GOLDENROD.
“The splendid glow of my yellow hair
Is faded now,” said the Goldenrod,
“To fluffy greyness so soft and fair,
And I am still thankful that from the sod
I sprang a stately, dominant weed
To cheer the land when late Summer comes ;
My sunny warning the birds all heed
And seek the south ere the winter’s drums
| Are beating a sleety reveille.
I do not mind that my hair is grey,
I have been beautiful in my day—
Gold-haired or silver, my heart is gay,”
Said the cheerful Goldenrod.
“Pansies and roses and lilies rare,
Gorgeous poppies in ruffled silk, |
Mystic moonflowers, white as milk—
All have shone in their beauty fair,
Filled with enchantment the days and nights,
, Flowery pageant of sweet delights.
- Then I, unloosing my hair of gold,
On hill and roadside my glory shed,
And light so cheering it plainly told
Never are beautiful things all dead.
“Tf you are thinking I look forlorn,
Faded, forsaken, of beauty shorn—
Don’t you feel sorry.
I shall be born
Again, some misladen August morn,”
Said the cheerful Goidenrod.
—pEERE Ay LITCHoock:
‘THE WARBLING VIREO.
(Vireo gilvus.)
Sweet little prattler, whom the morning sun
Found singing, and the livelong summer day
Keeps warbling still:
here have I dreamed away
Two bright and happy hours, that passed like one,
Lulled by thy silvery converse, just begun
And never ended.
—ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN, “To THE WARBLING VIREO.”
Of the vireos Mr. Silloway has
well said that they, “like the various
members of the flycatcher group, are
frequently confused by the general
observer, and hence they are not so
well known as their charming manners
and pleasing characteristics merit.” The
Warbling Vireo is not only a beautiful
and interesting bird but it is also a
most useful one. It should be better
known than it is, for its economic
value cannot be overestimated. It -is
exceedingly industrious in its search
after its insect food and is most per-
sistent and painstaking in its exam-
ination of the leaves and branches of
trees in search of the insect foes of
the foliage. In the Northern part of
its range it begins its work early in
the season, soon after the buds have
opened and before the fruit-trees of
our orchards have burst into blossom.
Its valuable work is continued until
about the time in the fall when the
foliage loses its value as a provider of
insect food. Its most useful service,
however, is its habit of examining the
young buds and branches for the larve
which are so destructive to these ten-
der growths. Fortunately the range of
this little bird is an extensive one. It
covers North America from the Fur
Countries to Oaxaca, Mexico, and it
breeds quite throughout its range. It
winters in the southern portion of the
United States and southward.
There are few birds whose song is
more expressive and, to many persons,
sweeter than that of the Warbling
Vireo. Its song is a rather prolonged
and continuous warble which has been
described by Mr. Chapman as _ posses-
sing a “singular alto undertone.” It
is a firm, rich and beautifully undulat-
ing melody. This Vireo does not need
to perch as it sings but, rather, de-
livers its touching notes while flitting
about in the foliage of trees in search
of its food. It is at such times that
its notes seem the sweetest. It sings
from early dawn until evening, and
during the heat of noontime, when
nearly all of our bird songsters are
silent. Excepting perhaps a short pe-
riod in July, its happy nature leads
it to sing from the time of its spring
arrival in the North until it departs
for its winter home in the South about
the first of October. Dr. Brewer has
spoken of the Warbling Vireo in the
following words: “This Vireo, more
than any other of its genus, if not ex-
clusively, is to a large extent a resident
of villages, towns, and even cities.
It is by far the sweetest singer that
ventures within their crowded streets
and public squares, and the melody of
its song is exquisitely soft and beauti-
ful. It is chiefly to be found among
the tall trees, in the vicinity of dwel-
lings, where it seems to delight to
stay, and from their highest tops to
suspend its pensile nest. It is espe-
cially abundant among the elms on
Boston Common, where at almost any
hour of the day, from early in the
month of May until long after sum-
mer has gone, may be heard the pro-
longed notes of this, one of the sweet-
est and most constant of our singers.”
Dr. Brewer also speaks of its melody
as being flute-like. Its song is perhaps
the best means of noting its presence,
for it is more often heard than seen as
it spends most of its time among the
upper branches of the trees where it
°
. oO
ae |
=)
Lo laTs
D O
=o
‘to 5
ne
ae
ae
OF
WARBLING VIREO.
(Vireo gilvus.)
Life-size
From col. F. M. Woodruff.
96
is hidden from view by the foliage.
Then, too, it does not attract attention
for its dress is not at all conspicuous.
Though trees are its habitat, it is only
very rarely seen in our deeper forests.
The pensile nests of the Warbling
Vireos are generally constructed in
tall trees where they are suspended
from forked twigs near the extremities
of the branches. While they are usual-
ly built at an elevation of from thirty
to fifty feet above the ground, they
are not infrequently located much
lower. The eminent ornithologist Au-
dubon has given us a most interesting
account of the building of a nest by
a pair of these Vireos. It was con-
structed in a poplar tree, near his win-
dow, in Camden, New Jersey. He
says: “One morning I observed both
of them at work: They had already
attached some slender blades of grass
to the knots of the branch and the
bark of the trunk, and had given them
a circular disposition. They continued
working downward and outward until
the structure exhibited the form of
their delicate tenement. Before the
end of the second day, bits of hornet’s
nests and particles of-corn husks had
been attached to it by pushing them
between the rows of grass, and fixing
them with. silky substances. On the
third day the birds were absent. * *
* On the fourth morning, however,
their notes attracted my attention be-
fore I arose; and I had the pleasure
of finding them at their labors. The
materials which they now used con-
sisted chiefly of extremely
grasses, which the birds worked in a
circular form, within the frame which
they had previously made. The little
creatures were absent nearly an hour
at a time, and returned together, bring-
ing the grass, which I concluded they
are pretty ,and cozv
slender
125
found at a considerabl. distance.” That
the Vireos are particular about the
materials they use in the construction
of their nests is well illustrated by
the fact that Mr. Audubon followed
the birds and was slowly led out of the
village to a meadow where they ob-
tained the dried grass they had se-
lected from a hay stack. “Two other
days were consumed in traveling for
the same kind of grass. On the sev-
enth, I saw only the female at work,
using wood and horsehair: the eighth
was almost entirely spent by both in
smoothing the inside. They would en-
ter the nest, sit in it, turn around, and~
press the lining.” During the following
five days one egg was laid each day.
The nests of these Vireos though
they resembic those of the other spe-
cies of the genus are nevertheless more
carefully and compactly built. They
sirtictures: and
usually so placed that they are pro-
tected by a leafy canopy from. storms
and the sun. They are not easily seen
or preached’ © by their: enemies.» The
Warbling Vireos are excellent parents
and both the male and female cheer-
fully assist in the duties of incubation.
The male possesses such a happy dis-
position that it is said to even sing,
at times, while sitting upon -the eggs.
They show no fear while defending
their home and young, and after their
young have appeared, their sharp,
scolding notes seem to replace for
awhile their happy warbling notes. In
fact they are so watchful of their
homes and so anxious regarding their
young that they scemingly, scold when
there is no apparent reason for their
harsh notes of anrer. After the male
is relieved of family cares his sweet
song is again heard and the scolding
notes disappear.
THE WARBLING VIREO. |
Through saffron tints of twilight,
Moves the young moon, remote.
Ah, listen!
Wandering, sweet—
The Vireo’s tender note.
All that was dear in yesteryear,
Or dreamed, or won, or missed,
The Vireo flutes at eventide—
When Memory’s keeping tryst.
The summer flowers are fading,
Dead leaves bestrew the ground.
Entranced past smile or tear,
My face lifts to the sound.
All that was dear in yesteryear,
Or dreamed, or won, or missed,
Wakes in that melting melody,
When Memory’s keeping tryst!
—Lutu WHEDON MITCHELL.
AN AUNT JANE STORY.
CURIOUS PLANTS.—PART II.
“Besides these royal Orchids, what
other queer things are there in the his-
tory of flowers?” inquired Alice.
“Luminous flowers are interesting to
ine,’ was the reply.
“You know some flowers have the
habit of emitting sparks or flashes dur-
ing twilight.”
“No, I have never heard of such
thing. Where do they grow?”
“Right here in this garden—the nas-
turtium, the sunflower, the yellow lily,
the tube rose, are all ‘fire-plants,’ throw-
ing off, under certain atmospheric con-
ditions, electric flashes.”
“Fire-plants,” repeated Howard, a lit-
tle doubtfully. “Now, auntie, we are
often in the garden and we have never
seen these floral fire-works, not even on
the Fourth of July!”
“That is not at all strange, Howard;
very few people are patient, careful ob-
servers; but we must accept the testi-
mony of scientific men, who give their
time to the study of nature. I very
much doubt if ever you have listened to
the mysterious, little vibrating sound
a
{
which the Evening Primrose makes when
126
she unfurls her yellow tent.”
“The Primrose makes a noise?” ex-
claimed all the children in astonishment.
“Can flowers really be heard, Aunt
Jane?” Howard inquired, with a sur-
prised look.
“Ves, the Aloe, or Century Plant,
whose fifty-foot flower-stalk grows six
inches in a day, can really be heard
srowing. If you wish to test the mat-
ter go into a growing cornfield on a very
still night, and you can yourself hear the
ticking sound of the bursting sheath, as
the young blades grow, or, to-night,
listen while I water the artillery plant,
and see if the noise it makes warrants the
correctness of its name. Of course you
must not expect a report as loud as a
cannon would make.”
“Oh, no; I'll be satisfied if I hear the
slightest sound.”
“Another curious feature of the Aloe
is this, that you can snap off the point
of one of its leaves, and have a needle,
and a thread clings to it, which may be
peeled off a yard long.”
“That’s the flower that does not bloom
for a hundred years,” cried Bird. “I
always thought I would not have such a
shy bloomer, but, Madge, wouldn’t it be
nice to get one for the sake of having
thread and needles in the garden, all
ready for making dolls’ dresses?”
“But, my dear, you are mistaken,”
continued Aunt Jane, ‘‘about the Century
Plant blooming once in a hundred years.
Don’t you remember that your Uncle
Casamir said, when he was in Algeria,
he saw Aloes of all sizes and ages in full
bloom ?”’
“See here!” cried John; “by Aunt
Jane’s showing, flowers eat, flowers give
light, flowers make a noise; I want to
know what other wonders they per-
form?”
“They dance and travel,” Aunt Jane
replied. “They predict the weather, and
tell the time of day; they nod and sleep,
and climb, and act as a compass, and —
some are so bad they steal their liv-
ing.”
“To tell us what flower is so gay and
lively as to dance?”
“The ‘Dancing Orchid.’ To be sure,
he is a genuine little acrobat, and is said
to perform the most amusing feats of agil-
ity. His antics have given him a world-
wide reputation. Animated oats make
curious movements when laid upon the
ground. The leaflets of some kinds of
oxalis sink down vertically at night, per-
haps to sleep, and other flowers, as the
Sensitive Plant, and the ‘Ox-hoof’ of
Brazil, open and shut their leaves. The
‘Ox-hoof’ is a very good time-piece, as
at daybreak the leaves are spread out
horizontally, but gradually double up as
the sun advances, then as the sun de-
scends the leaves gradually open, and at
sunset are again spread out level.”
“T know which flower tells the time of
day. Here is a bed full of them, and
they are all saying ‘Four o’clock’ now,”
cried Birdie. :
“Which flower is a barometer?” John
inquired. d
“The clover is the farmer’s barometer.
It is thought to close its leaflets if rain
is coming. The pimpernel also foretells
a storm. The lotus lolls on the water till
a storm approaches, when it hides in
safety beneath the waves.”
“Tell us about the Traveler. What
flower goes journeying, and what are his
adventures ?” Howard asked.
“The ‘Rose of Jericho’ has its branches
folded up in a bell, but, it is said, moist-
ure causes them to spread out. The wind
gives it a gentle lift, and frees it from
the loose sand, and away it goes on and
on to a great distance. Some species of
Algee come up out of the sea, and dry
off upon the beach, when the wind car-
ries them over the land, and the children
hunt for them under the name of ‘meteor
paper, for they now look like coarse,
brown paper. The Dandelion is, you
know, a great traveler. He is a sort of
balloonist, and navigates the air with his
little white ship.”
“T had a speech about him at school
one day,” cried Madge. “The best verse
in it was this:
ia3
‘A perfect sphere of daintiest white,
As soft as air, as still as night,
Leaving the earthly damps of ours
To seek, perhaps, the heaven of flowers.’”’
“I know very well,” said Howard,
“that the compass plant points north and
south, but I’d like to know the reason it
does so?”
“In reply to your query, I can only
tell you what I have read upon the sub-
ject, as I have never tried to investigate
it myself. It seems that the secret of the
compass plant lies in the fact that the
number of stomata is equal on both sides
of the leaf, equally exposed to the morn-
ing and afternoon sun, assumes a posi-
tion of equilibrium between the two
forces, by turning one side toward the
morning, the other side to the evening
sun, thus throwing the breadth in a north
and south direction.’ ”
“T think,” said John, ‘that the com-
pass plant is quite friendly to a fellow;
for once when I had been out fishing I
got lost, and went round and round in
a circle, till I noticed a compass plant,
and it gave me a hint which way to go.”
“Aunt Jane, don’t you think you have
been a little severe on the carnivorous
flowers?” said Edith. “Is it any worse
for them to eat insects than it is for us
to kill chickens? Now, I know that
some plants are said to sleep, and I’ve
seen them nod, and of course many of
them can climb; my Cobea scandens has
ever so many grappling hooks to hold it
up, but are you quite sure that any plant
steals its living?”
“Certainly I am. Have you not often
seen parasites? Some Orchids belong to
this class of thieves. You have often
noticed the Dodder, or ‘love-thread;’
I’ve seen you trying your fortune with
it by throwing it backward over your
head. If the Dodder caught upon a
bush and lived, the sign was that he
loved you; but, if it fell m the dust, or
died upon the bush, then alas, he pre-
ferred another to you.”
“How does Aunt Jane find out every-
thing?” whispered Bird to Madge. “I
don’t know, but she does,’ was the low
response.
“The Dodder has no leaves, because
it needs none, as it does not prepare its
food, but it takes it from another plant.
The Mistletoe is something of a parasite
also, though it retains its leaves, and—”
“I do wish you would tell us what is
the most interesting flower you know of,”
interrupted Birdie.
“Lhat will be lard to-do: et me
think. Perhaps I may as well say the
‘Christmas Snow Flower.’
“Snow flower!” De the aah
dren; “where in the world does a snow
flower grow?”
“It grows upon the drear, snow-cov-
ered peaks of the Siberian Mountains,
and only blooms at Christmas time. ‘The
flower is said to last but a day and night,
and then melts away with the snowy
128
flakes. This flower would do very “all
for a poem—a far better subject than the
Gtulel Wrosetd. ~
“Tell us what the poets say about flow-
rs,” begged Alice. “I know the Violet
was Shakespeare’s favorite, and the
Daisy was loved by Chaucer.” “No,
no,’ objected the boys, “tell us some
fables about flowers. You can get in a
story if you will.”
“If there were time we might con-
sider the romance which clings to the
Thistle, and become acquainted with the
curious history of the ‘Broom Plant,’ the
‘Shamrock,’ and other flowers used as
‘national or historic emblems.”
“Do tell us about the ‘Broom Plant.’ ”
cried Edith, “for I always thought
Plantagenet came from broom—a com-
mon, old sweeping broom—and often
wondered why a dynasty of sovereigns
would take such a name; I never thought |
that ‘broom’ meant a flower.”
Every one laughed at Edith’s mistake,
and Aunt Jane said: “As regards the
fables of the flowers the boys ask for, I
wonder if you know how curiously the
Forget-me-not received its name, and
how the blood of—
‘Ajax tinged the Hyacinths’?”
“No; tell us; tell us,” clamored all
voices.
“There! I hear the tea-bell ringing.
We must leave the ‘Curious Fables of
the Flowers’ until some other time.”
BELLE Paxson DrRurRY.
5
ee
From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences. WOOD PEWEE. Copyrighted 1900, by
(Contopus virens.) A. W. Mumford, Chics
97 3-5 Life-size
THE WOOD PEWEE.
(Contopus virens.)
“Dear bird,” I said, “What is thy name?”
And thrice the mournful answer came,
So faint and far, and yet so near,—
“Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer
1”?
For so I found my forest bird,—
The pewee of the loneliest woods,
Sole singer in these solitudes,
Which never robin’s whistle stirred,
Where never bluebird’s plume intrudes.
While the Wood Pewees seem to
prefer the solitude of our deeper for-
ests they will, at times frequent and
even nest in orchards which contain
large. spreading trees. Occasionally
they may be seen searching for their —
insect-food among the shade trees of
villages and the trees of the larger
city parks. Large and ample trees are
a necessary part of the environment
of these birds, for they belong to one
of the few species which are shade-lov-
ing. The Pewees are not well-known
for their plain plumage and undemon-
strative ways do not readily attract
the attention of others than the careful
observers of bird-life. Their plaintive
and pensive notes, which are a most
characteristic sound, are usually the
first indication of their presence in
one’s vicinity. It is a familiar voice
to those who frequent the woods of
the Pewees’ range. Pee-a-wee, pee-a-
wee is the sweet but monotonous song
which is in perfect harmony with the
quiet solitude of their forest home.
They seek solitude and they do not
seem to care to associate with birds
of either their own or other species.
However, their sad notes are not de-
pressing and the Pewees seem to be of
a most happy disposition. They sing
all day long, from the appearance of
dawn often until late in the evening.
Often his quiet, sweet-toned voice may
be heard in the stillness of midnight,
apparently humming a greeting to his
mate upon the nest. Even during the
summer heat of noontime its voice is
131
—J. T. Trowsrince, “THE PEWwEE.”
heard, and “the clear sympathetic notes
of the retiring songster come from the
green canopy overhead, in perfect har-
mony with the peace and stillness of
the hour.” The words of Mr. Chap-
man well express the views of all who
have studied the Pewee from the
standpoint of a lover of the harmony
in Nature. “His pensive, gentle ways
are voiced by his sad, sweet call: The
notes are as musical and restful, as
much a part of Nature’s hymn, as the
soft humming of a brook.”
The range of the Wood Pewees ex-
tends east of the Great Plains, from
southern Canada southward. They nest
from Florida, northward to the limits
of their range, and at the approach
of cold weather they migrate south-
ward through eastern Mexico and
Honduras to Ecuador.
Their nests are beautiful and com-
pact structures of which the floors are
thin arid the sides are quite thick and
not very high. Mr. Dawson speaks of
the Pewee’s nest as “One of the most
sightly and romantic structures which
an ingenious Nature has evolved.” Dr.
Brewer speaks of it as “extremely
beautiful, rivaling even the artistic
nests of the hummingbird.” Mr. Robert
Ridgway has called it “one of the
most elegant examples of bird archi-
tecture.” The nests are always built
upon a horizontal branch upon which
they are usually saddled, though some-
times they are placed in a fork. They
are frequently built at a considerable
distance from the trunk of the tree
and at a height of from eight: to tity
feet above the ground. Ane. ests,
though shallow, are cup-shaped and
form a, @ilite “perfect |seament. of a
sphere. Fine dried grasses, rootlets,
mosses, linchens and fine strips of bark
fibers are used in the construction. The
exposed sides of the walls are beauti-
fully coated with mosses and_ lichens
which are fastened by spider’s webs.
The birds usually select branches, eith-
er dead or living, which are lichen
or moss covered. The nests resemble
knots, or protuberances upon the
limbs which are covered with lichens
and are thus hard to find unless the
a
birds are seen to approach them. After
the completion of the nesting season
the Pewees are less solitary in their
habits and often several may be ob
served in the same portion of the
woods, busily catching their insect-food.
The Wood Pewees, like all the other
members of the Flycatcher family, are
experts in the catching of insects, for
even those which are exceedingly mi-
nute do not escape them. Their power
of sight is most perfect as they read-
ily perceive insect forms when the light
of day has nearly departed or in the
very gloomy light of our deeper woods.
WHAT THE APPLE SAID.
Elsie was lying in the hammock
under the big apple tree, watching the
yellow pippin just above her, when sud-
denly the Pippin began to talk. This
was a strange thing for an apple to do,
but there seemed to be no mistake
about it.
ole ahe saute:
quite plainly.
(Eat vou! srepeated: Elsie:
wish to be eaten really?’
“Of course I do. Don’t you suppose
my babies ever want to get out? You
were ready enough to eat us last sum-
mer, when we were green.”
“T only ate two of you, and I had a
dreadful pain afterwards.”
“IT am glad you had,’ answered the
Apple. “You deserved it. I suppose
that sounds unkind,” it went on, in a
milder tone, as Elsie showed her dis-
pleasure, ‘but some people try one’s
temper so. Those apples had packed
their babies away, as carefully as pos-
sible, and you spoiled all their work by
letting their babies out too soon. They
asked you not to eat them, too.”
“Asked me not to eat them!” repeat-
ed the astonished Elsie. “‘Why they
never said a word: You are the first
apple I ever heard talk, and I don’t
know what you mean by an apple’s
babies either.”
“T mean their seeds, Goosey.
Please eat me,” it said
“Do you
Of
course the apples did not ask you in
words, but they did taste as sour as
they could, and they puckered up your
mouth. That plainly meant they were
too green to eat.- Then as that didnot
stop you, they had to give you pain,
so you wouldn’t eat more another time.
How are apple babies to grow up, and
do their work if you treat them that
way?”
“Do apples work?” asked Elsie.
“Certainly. Everything in the world
has some work to do, or it would not
be here. Some people are blind to the
wonderful things happening around
them. The whole earth is a beautiful
fairy tale if you only knew how to read
it. Perhaps I’d better tell you my story.
That may teach you something.”
“Oh, please do,” begged Elsie.
is unusual I know.”
“On the contrary, it is quite like
any other apple’s,” the Pippin an-
swered. “All of us were flowers once,
you know.”
“Really?” asked Elsie, “but I remem-
ber now,” she added with a _ bright
smile. “This tree was just covered
with blossoms last May, and they
smelled so sweet. Do you mean that
one of them really turned into you?”
“That is just about what happened,”
answered the Apple, with a proud air.
“Now, I don’t believe you ever exam-
“it
ined an apple blossom closely, so I will
tell you about one. To begin, we have
five pretty leaves which are sometimes
white and sometimes pink, and a num-
ber of little, pin-like things, with tiny
knobs on top, covered with yellow dust.
Also, we have five other pin-like things
. without any dust on them, and these
last are joined together below and set
in a green cup, whose top is cut into
five pieces, rolled back like leaves. Just
look carefully at an apple blossom next
May and see if this is not so. The wise
men have names for all these parts, and
some day you may study all about them
and then you will know that I am tell-
ing you a true story. Well, it happened
one day that a bee paid me a visit.”
ome dear!” said Elsie. “Were you
afraid?”
“Afraid,” was the scornful answer.
“Certainly not. Didn’t I wear my pretty
dress and store my precious. drop of
honey, just to attract that bee? You
see, she had been making calls on other
blossoms and was covered with their
yellow dust and it was this yellow dust
I needed for the little pin-like things,
without dust, which I mentioned a
minute ago.”
“But I don’t understand,” Elsie an-
swered. “Why couldn’t you use your
own dust?”
“Oh, that’s Mother Nature’s secret
and I have not time to explain it now.
I had to have the dust from another
blossom, and only the bee could bring
it to me! I paid my good friend with
honey, and also gave some of my own
dust in exchange for what I received,
so it was no robbery you see. If you
ever have a chance, watch a bee as he
visits an apple blossom. It will be
worth your while, I promise you.”
wit may be,’ “aeteed Elsie, “but I
133
beginning to think a little.
can’t see much sense in it now.”
“You will when you are older and
wiser,’ the Apple answered.
-miter the) bees visit, I no longer
needed my pretty dress, and it gradual-
ly dropped away. Then a great change
came over me. You remember the cup
I spoke of awhile ago? Well, in that
cup were a number of little green
things, like tiny eggs, and the life in
the dust went down to them and they
too became full of life and began to
grow. Of course, the cup had to grow
also. It became larger and juicier un-
til——”
“Oh! I know what happened,” inter-
rupted Elsie, clapping her hands. “It
grew into you, and the tiny green
things are your seeds; babies, I mean;
only they must be brown now.”
Jtistit, aereed the Apple. You, are
All sum-
mer I have taken good care of my
babies, but now they are quite grown
up, and it is time for them to be out
and about their work. You see, they
must make the new trees, which will
bear apples long after these trees are
Soca. Dear me, ow tired. |-am, I
fear this talk has been too much for
me:
“T should think,’ began Elsie—then
she stopped, for something had touched
her quite sharply.
She started up with a little cry and
began to rub her eyes.
The big Pippin had Sle and lay
beside her in the hammock.
“Why, I must have been dreaming,”
she said, “but what a wonderful dream
it was. Ill tell mama all about it; and
after this ] mean to keep my eyes open
and look out for the wonderful things
that the Apple said were happening all
the time.” LouIsE JAMISON.
THE SNOWFLAKE.
(Plectrophenax nivalis. )
Then ’mid snowdrifts white,
Though the trees are bare,
Comes the Snowbird, bold
In the Winter’s cold,
Quick and round and bright,
Light he steps across snow,
Cares he not for winds that blow,
Though the sifting snow be drifting
Through the air.
The Snowflakes, or Snow Buntings
as they are frequently named, are the
well known white birds of winter which
frequent the northern tier of the United
States. They are also irregular visit-
ants, during the colder weather, as far
south as southern Illinois, Indiana and
Ohio. Occasionally they even pass as
—Dora Reap Goopate, “THE SNOWBIRD.”
our sympathy, for they always seem
cheerful and happy and apparently find
enough to eat, as they become very fat.
Thoreau speaks of the Snowflakes as
“true spirits of the snowstorm.” Mr.
Ernest E. Thompson has said: “In
_ mid-winter, in the far north, when the
far southward as Georgia and Kansas, -
and they are said to be abundant some
seasons in the western interior, as far
' south as Colorado. The general geo-
graphical range of the species\may be
given as the entire northern parts of
the northern hemisphere, but the birds
breed only in the Arctic regions. If
they can only obtain a sufficient quan-
tity of food they care but little for icy
blasts. On the snow covered prairies,
nothing can brighten a cold and dreary
winter’s day like a flock of these dainty
birds as they circle and wheel around
looking for a favorable spot on which
to alight, finally dropping in a mass
for all the world like snow flakes in a
whirl of wind. At all times, when they
are with us, their soft white plumage
and amiable disposition appeal to us
and we look forward to visits from
the Snowflakes with a great deal of
pleasure.
Snowflakes never perch on trees and
while it is truly a bird of the ground
it will frequently perch on a fence or
a house. Their food is chiefly, 1f not
exclusively, wild seeds and grain which
they gather in stubbles and barnyards.
They frequent the latter places when
the fields are covered with snow. Dur-
ing the winter months they do not need
134
thermometer showed thirty degrees be-
low zero, and the chill blizzard was
blowing on the plains, I have seen
this brave little bird gleefully chasing
his fellows, and pouring out as he
flew, his sweet, voluble song with as
much spirit as ever skylark has in the
sunniest days of June.” During the
nesting season the Snowflakes are said
to utter an agreeable song, but as they
choose to nest only in the dreary and
desolate areas of the Arctic regions it
has been the pleasure of but few to
listen to them. While we who reside
only in the region of their more south-
ern winter home cannot listen to its
song, we may often hear them utter
cheerful twittering notes which are very
inspiring during the uninviting days
of winter.
In the government report on the
Cruise of the Steamer Corwin in the
Arctic Ocean, Mr. E. W. Nelson gives
an interesting account of the summer
home of the Snowflakes. It is as fol-
lows: “In the north, the range and
abundance of this species in summer is
to a great extent complimentary to
that of the lapland longspur. Along
the rugged parts of the coast, on rocky
and barren islands and desolate shores
of the Arctic Ocean, wherever explor-
ers have gone, they have found these
‘otto tae
he dnd tet ey RF er Sasetattaltaite “ ED POEL RS TP PRIEI AAMT: aD a PY POE EE RAM PRA REIS PRU EEE PIP UT
From col. F. M. Woodruff. i 4 ‘ SNOWFLAKE. Copyrighted 1900, by
=. Se ee, le ae ee ee ee. =
birds before them. The desolate hill-
tops of Saint Lawrence Island, the
bare weather-worn sides of the moun-
tains surrounding Plover Bay and East
Cape, Siberia; the rocky wind-swept
islands in Bering Strait, as well as the
lonely shores of Herald and Wrangel
Islands, and the shingle-strewn beaches
along the north coast of Asia and
Alaska all appear to be chosen as the
favorite summer homes of this bird.
When we landed at any of these places
we were certain to be greeted by the
clear, sharp note of the Snow Bunting,
which would be seen running busily
about searching for food or wheeling
about from place to place, its sharply
contrasted black and white (summer)
plumage quickly attracting the eye and
usually the first sign of “life. On the
mountain sides at Plover Bay its mel-
low note was heard on June 26, utter-
ing the long, clear, and rather hard
song, full of a wild and exhilarating
melody fitted to the surroundings. This
song consists of four or five clear
whistling notes, shorter than the song
of the longspur, and uttered from a
rocky point or the top of some jutting
ledge. At Saint Lawrence Island, on
June 24, we found them common and
nesting, and some _ native children
showed us a nest about one hundred
yards back of their huts. This nest
contained one egg, which was obtained,
with the female. After the latter was
shot the male kept flying about our
heads, or from rock to rock close by,
and continually uttered a loud p-cher,
p-cher, p-cher, in such a plaintive tone
that I was glad when we were out of
earshot. As long as we remained in
the vicinity the bird followed us from
place to place, hovering about, not
taking the slightest notice of his rifled
nest after the female was shot. He
showed by his actions that he was
fully aware of our having his mate in
our possession. I do not remember
ever having seen a bird show such
affectionate solicitude for his mate as
was exhibited on this occasion.”
FRANK Mortey WoopRUuFF.
THE SANDERLING.
The Sanderling goes to the wave-worn beach,
And feeds, when the surf to the sea outpours;
Swiftly he runs on the oozy reach
And swims on the swell, when it coastward pours.
For the shell-fish, laid by the surf on the sands,
Is his simple fare from the sea; and he seeks
A covert for rest, in the reedy lands, '
Through the nights of our charming summer weeks.
But where does he roam in our winter-time?
Perchance by the Gulf, and its sedgy leas;
Or slow, where the bayou winds, with the ea
Of the mocking-bird, in the cypress trees.
O, the Sanderling’s lot seems a pleasant one,
When I wait by my fire, through a dreary storm:
He follows the breath of the brine with the sun,
And his year is all summer, and kind and warm.
137
—Er1izA WooDWorRTH.
A BLACK BASS HATCHERY.
Near Lake Waramaug, Connecticut,
well known as a resort for fishermen
and “summer boarders,” is situated one
of the first successful hatcheries for
small mouth black bass in this country.
Over fifty years ago the lake was
stocked with bass, which for a long time
grew remarkably in size and number.
It was their rapid decrease within the
last few years, and consequent injury
to the fishing, which suggested the idea
of ».a. ‘aatcherys it; was-ctpe. £0 etme
patience .and intelligence of a local en-
thusiast in the fish line, and the money
and enterprise of a prominent New
York art dealer, that the idea has been
carried out and made a success.
During the winter of 1902 a site was
chosen, about an eighth of a mile below
the lake. Upon studying the subject, it
was found that every attempt to raise‘
small mouth black bass, including one
carried on at great expense by the
United States government, had ended
in failure; consequently it was left to
the two men to seek out their own path,
in spite of discouragement.
The planning and superintending of
the work was leit to the local fisher-
man, while the art dealer showed his
interest by patiently signing the numer-
ous and necessary checks. -
During the following summer the
work was carried on. Three adjacent
ponds, separated by stone walls, were
built similar to other hatcheries; the
lower one, about eight feet deep, was
for the old fish, while there were two
long, narrow and shallower ones, side by
side, for nurseries. Seventeen hundred
feet of piping brought water from the
lake. ..In the fall, one of the ponds
being completed, twenty-nine large, live
black bass, caught in various neighbor-
ing lakes, were set up in housekeeping,
with a supply of minnows and frogs to
stock their larder; then the pond froze
over and they were left to their own
devices, lying dormant during the win-
ter.
Early the next season, work upon the
ponds was resumed, with the result that
138
they were finished May goth, just in time
for the first bass babies.
In a wild state, the male bass pre-
to two feet. He sweeps all the sand
away with his tail, over a space about
three feet in circumference, making a
circular-nest with the larger pebbles in
. pares the nest, choosing a gravelly bot- ©
tom, at a depth of from eighteen inches.
the centre, the smaller gravel on the ~
outside. Upon these stones the eggs
are laid. Acting upon advice received.
from the Michigan hatchery, the man-
ager prepared nests similar to the nat-
ural ones, and placed over them boxes
with screen doors which could be closed
when necessary to prevent the escape
of the little fish. Incredulous onlookers
laughed at the idea that the mother
bass would swim into a box to lay her
eggs, but in every case she took to them
kindly. .
It is the father bass, also, who takes
charge of the eggs, fanning the water
gently with his fins to keep it circu-
lating, and prevent the deposit of sedi-
ment. It is interesting to watch him,
posted at the opening of the box, sally-
ing forth now and then to drive away
intruders, no other fish being allowed
within a yard of the nest. Even the
mother is driven away.
The eggs hatch in four or five days,
in water from 64° to 70°. When the
temperature falls below 60° the eggs
are usually killed, when the father im-
mediately leaves the nest. When first
hatched the tiny fish are nearly color-
less, and are provided with yolk sacs
which contain enough food for a fort-
night.
gaining form and color as the yolk sac
_is absorbed. Soon the little fish begin to
wiggle up to the surface, their mouths
open in search of food.
The father remains on guard nearly |
three weeks altogether, scarcely eating
during the time. Just before the school
rises, the screens are closed, and the
babies transferred to the nurseries. In
a natural state the father would guard
them a few days longer, until they
—e
They grow rapidly for. awhile, |
learned to recognize their enemies, and
_ became more active in caring for them-
selves.
As soon as the young fish were re-
moved, the old ones began to prepare
the nests again for a second supply.
There were eight boxes, and four de-
posits of eggs in each, the third install-
ment being lost during a cold storm.
There are about ten thousand eggs in
every deposit. As preparations had
not been made for such an immense
family, only the comparatively small
number of sixteen thousand infants
could be accommodated in the nurser-
ies. The remainder were kept for a
time in tanks, and as soon as possible
placed in the lake to look out for them-
selves, where many of them may have
been destroyed by their own relatives,
the bass family being inveterate canni-
bals. Even parents, at a later stage,
devour the children they once guarded.
Wiki sG=Much care: -.
After the fry are deposited in the nur-
sery, they still continue to be a source
of anxiety. During a severe storm the
manager watched all night in the cold
and wet lest the muddy water coming
through the screen destroy, or overflow
and carry away the little bass.
Feeding the babies was another prob-’
lem. Their food consists of minute
Crustacea, which are not supplied in
sufficient quantities by the running
water, and must be collected and sup-
plied to them every day.
The young fish thrived, and had at-
tained a growth, in the fall, of from
three to five inches. Two thousand of
the sixteen originally placed in the nur-
series were lost; this is supposed to be
a “survival of the fittest” due to canni-
balism induced by scarcity of food.
During the summer, the hatchery as
a novelty, attracted many visitors, en-
quiring, amused or sceptical. Thou-
sands of tiny bass could be seen, and
the manager kindly answered questions
and explained methods.. One large
bass, named “Uncle Tom” because he
was taken from Mt. Tom lake, was
identified by the manager, and became
a general object of interest, especially
to the children, who delighted to feed
him. -
The second summer of its existence,
the hatchery received financial assist-
ance from the state, which was also to
benefit to the extent of half the fish
raised. A number of large bass have
been added, and it is hoped this season
may be even more successful than the
last.
ELIZABETH MILES DERRICKSON.
A SONNET.
It is not meet to sorrow when from earth
The mellow fruits are borne in Autumn’s haze;
They had the showers of the April days,
The quickening glances of the month of mirth,
H’en ere the pregnant buds had given them birth;
_ They drank the glory of the summer noon,
And when Night told her beads at the full moon
And blessing fell, they waxed in weight and worth.
But when the tender shoots are wrenched away
From the dear parent stem before they know
The gladdening sunbeams or the gracious dew,
Or felt the stir of nestlings, or the play
Of wings and whispering winds amid their leaves,
O’r Hope’s defeat the spirit rightly grieves.
139
—Mrs. M. A. MAITLAND.
MR. BLUE JAY--A NUTCRACKER.
My grape arbor had been remodeled,
but the workmen were not careful to re-
move old nails. At a corner of the cen-
tral arching one large-headed nail pro-
jected probably two inches from the
board-work.
From the kitchen my attention was
arrested by a gentle but firm hammer-
ing. Of course I thought first of the
woodpecker, and wishing to secure some
of the chips he throws away for my
coming school nature study, I hur-
ried out to hunt the carpenter.
Seating myself in the shady arbor I
was soon listening to the return of the
tapping noise. Finally looking up for
my visitor, | received" ‘direct: on! =my
cheek a hazel-nut hull or shell. Sur-
prised interest caused ‘me to move to
better vantage ground. My friend was
a beautiful Blue Jay. The bird stood
firmly, and holding the nut in his bill
would throw back his head, carefully
striking the nut on the nail-head.
This pounding was repeated until the
shell was opened. The dear bird seem-
ingly ate the meat with an “I’ve-earned-
i relish:
Following his movements I discov-
ered his store of nuts on a kitchen roof
about two blocks distant. Each day
Mr. Blue Jay, in his true-blue suit,
would return to the arbor and prepare
his meal. |
I said nothing to the owner of the
hazel-nuts, for I did not consider the
bird a thief—do you?
HARMONIA TATE.
OCTOBER.
Gray and crimson, green and yellow
And golden brown,
Leaves of every form and color,
Tumbling down.
Skies are deepening into azure,
Charming blue—
Purest air makes life a pleasure,
Tis living true.
Birds their evening songs are trilling,
Chirping low;
Seeds from out their pods are spilling,
Flowers will grow.
Scurrying low,
Clouds are flying in the distance,
Light and shadow show resistance,
’Tis sunset glow.
While we stand and gaze and listen
To Nature’s voice,
For very joy our tears will glisten
And we rejoice.
Because the earth so shines with beauty
On every hand,
We hasten home to love and duty,
A happy band.
140
—CrarA KENpRICK BLAISDELL.
oy
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Kialla 6c vaca Maen saan Se ee ina
From col. F. M. Woodruff. SLATE-COLORED JUNCO. Copyrighted 1900, by
( Junco hyemalis.) A. W. Mumford, Chicago,
{
99 Life-size.
THE SLATE-COLORED JUNCO.
( Junco hyemalis.)
The Juncos or Snowbirds as they
are commonly called ,are hardy and
abundant birds. However, during the
breeding season they are found only
from the northern border of the United
States northward, and in the higher
altitudes of the mountain ranges of the
Eastern States southward to Virginia.
Their geographical range covers North
America chiefly east of the Rocky
Mountains, and they winter southward
to the Gulf States. About the first of
October, or soon thereafter, these birds
begin their southern migration south-
ward, not because of the cold, but
rather because of hunger for from that
time on through the winter it becomes
almost impossible for them to obtain
food in the far North. In the more
temperate portions of the northern
United States, it becomes a winter
resident, for the snow is not so deep
but that the weeds stand above it and
the birds can gather the seeds. In such
localities the usually shy Juncos fre-
quently become quite tame during the
severer weather and time of deep snows
which prevent them from obtaining
food at the borders of the forests,
where they seek it among the shrubby
thickets and fallen leaves. They then
visit the weeds of roadsides and seek
food also in the vicinity of farm-
houses. They. will even visit the kitchen
door, with the chickadees and _ spar-
rows, and feed upon the crumbs and
scraps which may be found there. Flor-
ence A. Merriam has said: ‘When the
snow begins to fly you will look out
some gray morning to find a flock of
small, plump, slate-colored birds hop-
ping about the dooryard, picking up
what they can find, or sitting in the
bushes with an air of contentment that
is pleasant to see.’ When we see the
Juncos over a field of snow, the som-
ber color of the plumage of the upper-
sides and the white of the undersides
of the birds, reminds us of the words
of Mr. Parkhurst “Leaden skies above;
snow below” so well do they match
their winter environment. |
If we desire a better acquaintance
with these gentle and interesting visi-
tants to our door-yards during the
bleak winter months, we must visit
them in their summer homes in the
far North, even as far as the “barren
grounds” of the Arctic regions.. The
Juncos leave their winter home about
the time that our own summer birds,
such as the bluebirds and robins, begin
to appear. Regarding the time of its
‘appearance in the far North,-Mr. E.
W. Nelson says: “It reaches Fort Re-
liance, on the Upper Yukon, by April
30, and I have found it at the Yukon
mouth by the 11th of May. At Nulato,
Alaska, it was found common by Dall,
who records its arrival on the first of
June. In the Hudson Bay Territory,
Kennicott found it breeding abundantly
to latitude 65° North, and it is known
to arrive on the Mackenzie River by
the 20th of April. While I was camp-
ing at the Yukon mouth, the last of
May, 1879, it was a common bird,
and at Kotlik it was found numerous
about the trading post, searching the
143
ground close to the doorstep for food.”
Mr. Nelson also says that one of his
collectors brought him a nest from
Nulato, which was obtained the first
Gi june. reeo, -1t- was built on. the
ground and contained five eggs. One
authority states that the Juncos begin
nesting in Ontario “the first week in
May, and nests with eggs are found as
ites ase Auciust:” Dr. . Brewer~ says:
“About Calais and in all the islands
of the Bay of Fundy, and throughout
New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, I
found this by far the most common
and familiar species, especially at Pic-
tou, where it abounded in the gardens,
in repeated instances coming within the
out-buildings to build its nests.” He
also says that at Pictou they were usu-
ally called Bluebirds by the common
people.
The nests of the Juncos are built in
. a variety of places though they are
usually built on the ground, under the
protection of undergrowth or concealed
injutts of grass, ‘The nesis) may aise
be placed in fallen tree-tops, among the
roots of fallen trees, under logs, in
crevices in banks, or even in bushes.
They also, though not commonly, nest
in buildings. Dr. Brewer speaks of
one instance when several Juncos nest-
ed in a woodshed connected with a
dwelling in Pictou, Nova Scotia. These
nests were within reach of the hand
and in a place where people were pas-
sing and repassing throughout the day.
The nests of the Juncos are usually
built of dry grasses, moss and rootlets
and well lined with fine grasses, fine
mosses and long animal hairs. Some-
times strips of fibrous bark, straw and
horsehair are used in the construction
of the walls,and nests have been found,
the walls of which were made en-
tirely of animal hairs, and the lining,
of mosses and hair.
In addition to their call-notes, the
Juncos have a very pretty song which
is only occasionally heard before the
birds leave us for their nesting places
in the far North. Mr. Nuttall speaks
of the song as consisting of “a few
sweet, clear, and tender notes, almost
similar to the touching warble of the
European robin redbreast.’” Another
observer speaks of it as “a simple thrill,
and a faint, whispered warble, usually
much broken, but not without sweet-
ness.” Florence A. Merriam calls the
Juncos “Little gray-robed monks and
nuns,’ and also says: “The ’tsip ot
the Junco is unmistakable and more
often heard than his song, but he has
both a trill and a low, sweet song as
unpretentious and cheery as the friend-
ly bird himself.”
ONE DAY.
As fell the leaves, one day, one day,
A crimson palace fashioned I;
My leafy ridges on the grass
Were walls wherein a king might pass,
My rooftree was the autumn sky,
One day, one day.
As fell the rain, one day, one day,
My sodden walls it stained, it stained;
Out of the north the cold wind crept,
My palace halls were weather-swept,
A yellow scar alone remained,
One day, one day.
As burst the buds, one day, one day,
I heard the happy bluebird sing; )
Out of the south a zephyr stole,
I sought my wound, I found it whole:
There is for every heart a spring,
Some far-off day.
—GeorcGE H, MAITLAND.
The beautiful is as useful as the useful.— Victor Hugo.
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CONTENTS .°
Page is
NATURE’S FRIENDSHIP (Bessie Andrews Dana) [Poem] - - . 145, | rat {
THE VERMILION FLYCATCHER [Illustration] : - - - - 116 ion ay: 3
THE ASH (Evelyn Singer) - - < - = - . - : 149 4
LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE AIR (Edith Hope Kinney) [Poor] - - 152 ; 3
THE AMERICAN WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE (Tllustration] - - - 155 f
THE PRICKLY-ARMORED CLASS (Mary M. Stratner) - - - - 156 pe
THE BELTED PIPING PLOVER (Frank Morley Woodruff} [Eiicstreticn] > - 158 : i
- BIRD NOTES FROM THE CUMBERLANDS (James S. Cemptor) - - 161 a F
THE CERULEAN WARBLER (Collins Thurber) [Illustration] - - = 167 Page +!
MUFF (Augusta Kling) - - - - - - - : - - 168 FF
THE WILD TURKEY (GH. Walton Clark) [lilustration] - : - - 170 af a8
CURIOUS STONES (Belle Paxson Drury). - - - - = - - 174 if
AN INTERRUPTED SERMON (Ethel Whittier Boyrton) [Pcem] - - 176 ty
THE TURNSTONE [Tllustration] - - “ - * = : - 179 2
THE CAMP ROBBER (Charles S.Mocdy) - - - - - + 489 f
THE EUROPEAN KINGFISHER [Illustration] - : - > - - 182 it
IN THE WOOD (George H. Maitland) [Poem] . = - - - - 185 iy
WHERE THE SUMMER WENT (Cora A. Matson Dolson) [Poem] - - - 186 1
A VISIT TO A RED-TAILED HAWK’S NEST (Walter E. Burnham) - 5 186 it
THE YELLOW-BILLED TROPIC BIRD [illustration] - - - - - 19) :
NATURE NOTES (Bertie M. Phillips) - - - : - > > 192
INDIAN SUMMER (Lulu Whedon Mitchell) [Poem] = 192
EDITED BY WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPH
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BIRDS AND NATURE
Monthly, except July and August
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—BeEssi—E ANDREWS DANA.
145 i
THE VERMILION FLYCATCHER.
(Pyrocephalus rubinenus mexicanus.)
The range of the beautiful Vermilion
Flycatcher is a very limited one, extend-
ing from Guatemala northward through
Mexico and Lower California, southern
Texas, southwestern New Mexico,
southern and central Arizona, and
southern California, to southwestern
Utah and possibly southern Nevada.
Its breeding range is very nearly the
same as its distribution in the United
States, but it is not known to nest in
southern California. While it has been
reported from several localities within
the United States, Major Bendire con-
sidered that its center of abundance
within our borders must be in southern
Arizona. In his records of the Birds of
Arizona; Mir “W. Ee Scott says On
the foot-hills of the Catalina Mountains
it is a common migrant, many breeding
at the lower altitudes, and a few rang-
ing up to and breeding at an altitude of
forty-five hundred feet, which seems to
be about the limit of the vertical range.”
He also found this species to be quite
common as a summer resident about
Tucson and Florence in Arizona, and a
few individuals remain through the
winter.
Major Bendire gives the following
description of the nest of the Vermilion
Flycatcher: “The nest is a rather frail,
shallow and flimsy affair, and is always
saddled on a horizontal fork, well out
from the trunk of the tree, as is that of
the wood pewee. The foundation is com-
posed of a thin layer of twigs from two
to three inches in length; the sides are
constructed of small weed tops, a spe-
cies of Evasx, plant fibers, empty co-
coons, spider webs, plant down, etc.
The whole is rather loosely held to-
gether. The inner lining consists most
frequently of feathers, sometimes of a
little wool, cattle hair, fur, or plant
down.” While some nests have the rims
ornamented with lichens he found that
this was rather unusual. The nests are
built in various species of trees and
shrubs at elevations varying from six to
fifty feet above the ground. The more
common trees selected by the birds are
mesquite, oaks, cottonwoods, acacias,
and occasionally willows. In Texas, Dr.
J. C. Merrill found it nesting in retama
or horse bean trees or shrubs at a height
of not more than six feet above the
ground. The forests and shrubbery bor-
dering water courses are the favorite
grounds of these flycatchers. While
they are, perhaps, more commonly seen
in the more level country, they may be
146
found following the canyons in the
mountain side up to an altitude of nearly
five thousand feet.
The handsome males of this species
have, during the mating season, some
very interesting habits. One of these is
that of poising in the air, some twenty or
more feet above the ground, when they
flutter their wings, and elevating the
feathers of the body and tail, they re-
peatedly utter sharp, loud but somewhat
twittering notes and snap their mandi-
bles together as if in the act of catching
insects. Their food of insects is usually
caught while on the wing, but they will
also, at times, pick up insects while
standing on the ground. The male as-
sists his mate in the incubation of the
eggs, which lasts through a period of
about twelve days. Major Bendire be-
lieved that two broods were occasionally
raised in a season. He says: “On June
6 I found a nest of the Vermilion Fly-
catcher in a small grove of cottonwood
trees, with no other shrubbery nearer
than six hundred yards; it was placed
on a horizontal fork of one of these
trees, about twenty feet from the
ground, and contained three fresh eggs;
close by, the male was feeding a full-
grown young bird; no other pair ap-
peared to occupy this grove, and it
seemed very probable that it belonged to
these birds. The fact that I also found
fresh eggs as late as July 16 further
strengthens this supposition.”
SALAAM MAMAS ANN) nnnonNA oor
From col. Geo. F. Breninger.
109
VERMILLION FLYCATCHER.
(Pyrocephalus rubineus mexicanus.)
3-5 Life-size.
NUMA CoC
Copyrighted 1900, by
A. W. Mumford, Chicago.
CHiN Pella Lana iith is hen at LAUR,
MATTER MN Ateeereladn UB Shui
CULL EVN A SAA
We
a
WOT AN TR ORLA AAANN UAT
AMONG THE TREES.
THE ASH.
In one portion of the large lawn,
grew a fine specimen of an Ash tree;
its wide canopy offering a refreshing
shade on those hot days:in mid-July
when to breathe seemed an _ effort.
Rustic chairs stood beneath its shelter ;
there, too, swung a hammock whose
strong and graceful meshes supported
in indolent ease the forms of those who
took advantage of its unspoken invita-
tion to rest.
On one of those glorious days in
golden October when the crickets chirp
all day, when the orioles with their bril-
liant plumage; when the bluebirds, who >
carry a portion of the heavens on their
backs, have flown to the far, sweet south
and only a few belated robins remind us
of the days when our woods and lawns
were filled with the music of the feath-
ered choiristers—on one of those days
so filled with Nature’s wonderful
beauty, Mabel sought the shade of the
Ash tree and reclining lazily in the
hammock, looked up into its broad can-
opy.. Ihe chirp of the crickets fell
soothingly on her ears.
“How delightful it is! I do love to
hear the crickets; all summer I listen
and wait for them, although I know
their coming is a true sign of waning
summer. Here is another sign of de-
parting summer in this beautiful Ash,
for its long, feathery foliage, so much
like the walnut in the shape of its leaves,
is already showing a lilac tint; soon it
will be a great head of purple as it was
last year.”
A light breeze was blowing and dead
leaves were scurrying about as if in play.
The Ash bent its branches and swayed
gracefully, while a sound like the gentle
wash of the waves on the beach seemed
to take the form of words:
“Ts it my turn, fair maid, to tell you
the history of our family?”
“I would love to hear it if it is not
too prosaic; I feel in rather a languid
mood to-day.”
149
“It’s the weather. That’s the way
October affects the majority of people;
they seem to have a desire to go off to
some woods and saunter about, listening
to the rustle of the dead leaves beneath
their feet, or to watch the leaves slowly
falling, one by one, as they idly sit and
dream. Well, one might as well enjoy
these lovely days. Nature is but rest-
ing, soon she will be blustering and
storming, and Man will be wrapping up
in warm clothing or sitting comfortably
beside the glowing hearth.”
“Oh, do not talk of those days, let
us enjoy the present! What about your
family history? Is it dull?”
“By no means. Our history is the
most fanciful of all trees. We can date
our days back to the tertiary period as
some other trees, and can also lay just
claim of having lived within the Arctic
Circle, yet we can make a boast which
no other tree can, for curious myths
and traditions among many nations
gravely ascribe the descent of the hu-
man race from an Ash tree.”
“That is indeed strange; I’m sure I
would like to hear that legend.”
“The most remarkable of all these
legends belongs to the Norse and is
called the ‘Tree of the Universe.’ In
the legend, the tree springs from the
earth and its trunk rises to the sky; its
wide-spreading branches overshadow
the earth and support the heavens. This
mighty tree is sustained and nourished
by three roots only, which perform their
part well, and you will not wonder when
you learn from whence they derive their
nourishment. The first root extends
into Asgard, the home of the gods; be-
neath it continually bubbles a fountain
with whose waters the tree is sprinkled.
By its side is a magnificent hall where
dwell three maidens—Urd, the past;
Verdandi, the present; Skuld, the fu-
ture—the Scandinavian Fates who direct
and sway the destinies of men.
“The second root enters Jotunheim,
the abode of giants, and by its side is
Mirmir’s spring, within whose spark-
ling depths wit and knowledge lie
hidden.
“The third root strikes deep into Nifl-
heim, the region of darkness and cold;
the spring here feeds the serpent Nith-
hoges — Darkness — which perpetually
enaws at the root.
‘The leaves of the’ tree drop honey;
upon the uppermost branches sits an
eagle who observes all that goes on in
the world, while a squirrel, Ratatoskr,
-runs*‘up and down along the trunk and
branches, bearing messages between the
eagle and the serpent, stirring up strife
between them—a busybody you will say,
there are many such in the world. Four
stags, which are the four winds, run
back and forth among the branches and
bite the buds.
“Such stair maid: as* the taarastic
legend of the “Tree of the Universe,
for which there is neither explanation
nor interpretation. Some other nations
carry this legend on, telling us that after
the creation of the universe, the gods
created the first man, Aske, out of an
Ash’ tree: «
“That is indeed odd; it is just like a
Fainy, tale?
“Our history is nothing if not fanci-
ful; the ancients delighted to honor us.”
“Oh, do tell me some more, Ash
ree”
“T would wish first to tell you a few
facts about our family. I will not de-
tain you long.”
“Tofwailly listen, Ash’ tee, for surely
you deserve my attention in return for
the beautiful legend which you have told
mele
“TI only wish to tell you that we are
members of the Olive family, which con-
sists of forty branches; twelve of which
are American, but only six are widely
known. These are the red, white, black,
blue and green Ash, and the fringe tree.
Our leaves, as you notice, are compound
like those of the walnut, but of a deeper
green. Notice that young ash yonder;
is it not beautiful with its slender, gray-
ish trunk and the easy, graceful sweep
of its branches ?”’
“Tt is indeed, but it does not give the
same shade which you do.”
150
“It is young yet.”
“What about the other legends?
Have you forgotten?” .
“Not I; they are a part of my exist-
ence. I was thinking of two very old
traditions, whose origin is lost in the
mists of antiquity; one of them was old
in the time of Pliny and is to the effect
that no serpent willingly rests under the
shade of an Ash Tree nor glides beneath
its branches. Pliny states it asvavaace
that if a serpent were placed near a fire
and both surrounded by ashen twigs, the
serpent would sooner run into the fire
than pass over the pieces of ash.”
“Owing to that fact, I should think
your shade would be much sought after
by timid persons.”
“Tf not afraid of lightning, for the
other legend refers to the susceptibility
of the ash to lightning.”
“Just the reverse of the Beach.”
“Exactly; our wood is singularly
light, strong and elastic. Achilles
fought with an ashen spear ; Cupid made
his arrows of the ash. Prehistoric man,
when he wished a desirable weapon,
found it in an ashen club; our North
American Indian who knew so well the
value of all the trees of the forest, used
the wood of the ash for his bow and
ofttimes for his paddle. The pioneers
of this country found it especially use-
ful for the making of farm implements
and machinery, while one variety, the
Black Ash—because of its readiness to
separate into its annual layers—is much
used for splint basket work. Then, too,
Ash wood takes a high polish, and for
that reason is much in demand in the
manufacture of furniture.”
“While walking in the city the other
day, I saw a very strangely shaped tree,
which I was told was an Ash. It did
not grow upright, but its branches were
twisted and turned downwards. Is it a
member of your family?”
“It is; nearly two hundred years ago,
an old Ash Tree was found in a field in
Cambridgeshire, England, which, in-
stead of turning up its tips, let them
sweep the ground, thus forming under
its luxuriant branches a beautiful sum-
mer tent. Grafts were taken from this
tree and planted and all the weeping
ashes that now grow on the lawns are
its great-grandchildren. Only a little
training is necessary, then part the
branches on one side, and there is a
anique summer-house with a central pil-
lar and a soft green curtain all around.”
“Oh, how delightful that would be!”
“Folk-lore tells among other legends,
that we have the power to ward off pes-
tilence and disease. Now this is indeed
true, but not through any supernatural
charm which we possess, it is simply
through drainage. We are great feed-
ers; our roots strike deep and take up
quantities of water, by this means
swamps are drained and useless land is
made to bring forth grain.”
“You are something like the larch in
‘that respect,’ said Mabel, as she looked
off towards the hills where could be seen
fields of corn in shock, great piles of
yellow pumpkins, which spoke of
Thanksgiving Day, and men _ busily
stripping the orchard trees of their bur-
dens. Nearer at hand, she could see
golden quinces and clusters of purple
grapes. All spoke of a bountiful har-
vest from the Great Giver.
“In England, at one time,” the soft,
musical whisperings seemed to say, “‘it
was believed that we possessed a super-
natural charm, and there still exist Ash
Trees which bear a long scar, the mark
of a wound received in early days.
These trees, when young, were split
open and a puny, suffering baby was
passed three times, by its father, on one
side, to its mother on the other, through
this gap in the tree. Then while the
mother tenderly bore the little sufferer
home, cradled in her arms, the father
quickly plastered the tree with mud and
deftly bandaged the wound that it might
heal, for on this hung the baby’s recov-
ery; if the gap remained open the baby
would die.”
“How strange a superstition!”
“Yes; but it harmed nothing. Here
is another: When.a horse or a cow had
pains in its legs it was thought that a
gentle, harmless little animal with a long
nose, called a shrew-mouse, had run
over it. The cure was to cut a hole in
the trunk of an Ash, in which was
placed a live shrew-mouse, and the hole
plugged up. The Ash was then called
a Shrew-Ash, and the suffering animal
was cured by the touch of its branches.”
“What became of the poor mouse?”
“You can imagine what became of it
in that place; bereft of light, air, food
and drink. They have no such supersti-
tion about us in France, nevertheless, no
one cares to have an Ash Tree in his
grounds.”
“How is that?”
“Because of the existence of a little,
golden-green beetle, called the blister-
fly, which lives upon our leaves. It has
a sickening smell and devours our
leaves, when it dies; its body then falls
to powder and is blown about by the
wind, falling on the faces and entering
the lungs of passers-by, causing inflam-
mation. The bodies of these insects are
often used by medical men in making
blisters.”
Mabel lay in the hammock listening
to the notes of the Ash and the chirp of
the crickets, while she pondered on the
many wonderful things in this beautiful
world of ours; the leaves swayed gently,
and she fancied she heard the Ash Tree
say :
“An Ash key once fell into a decayed
willow where it took root; it soon fin-
ished the food to be found in the old
trunk, for the Ash is a great feeder, and
it reached below into the earth; it then
throve so well that it burst the willow
open; the root thus exposed to the air
soon became transformed into a strong
trunk.”
“That is rather a curious incident; I
think though that I care more for your
legends. To my mind they are more
fascinating than any other tree legends
which I have heard.”
“T am pleased that you like them. I
have one more to tell you as you lie
dreaming there, then my story is done.
This legend states that the earth is flat
and in the middle rises Yggdrasil—on
Ash Tree—its great canopy covers the
whole world and under its shade the
gods hold their councils. It, like the
‘Tree of the Universe,’ has three roots,
one in heaven, one in the land of the
frost-giants, and one in the under world.
At each root is situated a sacred foun-
tain of wisdom and knowledge, with
which three maidens water the tree,
whose abundant foliage drops dew of
honey upon the world. Under this won- dead, the fire-god will come forth and
derful tree is hidden the horn of doom, burn up the world, when there shall rise
and when this sounds the great Ash will anew world, a better world, with a new
crack and bend, the sea will give up its Ash Tree in the center.
EVELYN SINGER.
LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE AIR.
~ Gone—
A voice, from the anthem of dawn!
So golden a voice and so gay,
So blithe o’er the birth of the day!
Ah! who would be fain to adorn
Herself—by thus wronging the morn?
Lost—
A wing, that, unclipped, should have crossed
The sky, in free joyance of flight,
To soar in the blue out of sight!
Amid all the trophies of earth—
To make, in the Heavens, such dearth!
Stilled—
A throbbing heart, spring would have thrilled,
Though slight, with what ecstasy strong,
Of mating and nesting and song!
Yet she of the warm human heart,
Hath herein borne unwitting part!
Slain !
No softlier word doth remain—
A bird of too glowing a crest—
Too brilliant a bloom on its breast!
Alas! doth she dream what is done,
In wake of her will, “neath the sun? |
—EpitH Hore KINNEY.
TL “WUGL b2tstaddod ASOOD CALNOYA ALIN AY NV OlLANY ‘FRB dP My Med lO? Hors
ER a
THE AMERICAN WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE.
(Anser albtfrons gambelz. )
The American White-fronted Goose
has an extensive range which includes
North America, though it is rare on the
Atlantic coast. In the interior and on
the Pacific slope it is common, excepting
during the nesting season, for it breeds
only in the Far North. This species
winters in the United States, southward
to Mexico and Cuba. As a winter resi-
dent it is much more abundant on the
Great Plains and westward to the Pa-
cific coast. In the Mississippi Valley
and eastward, it is more common as a
migrant, and in most localities of this
region it is rare in winter.
it appears in its fall migrations during
October or early in November, and in
the spring it returns during March and
April. In those localities where it only
appears as a migrant, its peculiar and
rapidly repeated notes Wah, wah, wah,
wah, wah, may well remind one of the
words of Celia Thaxter in her poem
“Wild Geese”:
Hark, what a-clamor goes winging through
the sky! :
Look, children! Listen to the sound so wild
. and high!
Like a peal of broken bells,—Kling, kling,
kling,—
Far and high the wild geese cry, “Spring! it
1s spring!”
‘
The loud, harsh and quite trumpet-
like notes of this Goose have given to it
the name Laughing Goose. But it also
bears many other names. As-it shows
a special liking for low prairies, it is fre-
quently called the Prairie Brant or
Goose. Because of the coloration of its
plumage it is often called Gray Brant,
Speckled Brant or Goose and Yellow-.
legged Goose. It bears several other
popular names, but the ones already
mentioned are those more commonly
used. During their migrations, they
often fly so high that they appear as
mere dots agains the clouds or sky.
They, however, spend most of their time
upon the land, for it is there that they
155
In Illinois:
obtain their food. When flying in large
flocks this interesting species, like the
Canada goose and the snow goose, with
which it is frequently associated, flies in
a wedge-shaped company led by one
whose ringing call notes are constantly
uttered. The flight of these birds is
beautiful, but appears to be much less
rapid than it really is because of their
large size and the height at which they
are moving. The -flesh of the White-
fronted Goose is very highly esteemed,
and by many epicures it is considered
much more delicious than the flesh of
any of the other geese.
The geese are vegetarians and much
more terrestrial than are the ducks, for
they frequent the land in order to feed
upon tender herbage. The White-front-
ed Goose during its migrations and in
its winter home, frequents prairies and
fields where it feeds upon the tender
blades of grass and to some extent, at
least, upon the green blades of winter
wheat. It will also glean the scattered
grains of corn in corn-fields. In Cali-
fornia, where it is very abundant in win-
ter, it is said to be very destructive to
the growing wheat crop and that, in
some localities, the farmers employ men
to kill them or drive them from the
fields. When obtainable, berries of vari-
ous kinds and buds of shrubs are staple
articles of food. When these Geese ar-
rive upon their breeding grounds in the
early spring, the lakes are still frozen
and the ground is more or less covered
with snow. At this time the heath ber-
ries of the preceding year form their
principle food.
Mr. E. W. Nelson has given an excel-
lect account of their breeding habits in
Alaska where they nest very abundant-
ly. There, the White-fronted Geese be-
gin to arrive the latter part of April if
the season is early, but usually early in
May. “As the season advances they be-
come more numerous and noisy. Their
loud call notes and the cries of the males
are heard everywhere.” He found, how-
ever, that the mating season ends quick-
ly and at the mouth of the Yukon River
he saw their eggs on the twenty-seventh
of May. Regarding their nesting habits,
Mr. Nelson says: “These Geese choose
for a nesting site the grassy border of a
small lakelet, a knoll grown over with
moss and grass, or even a flat, sparingly
covered with grass. Along the Yukon
Dall found them breeding gregariously,
depositing their eggs in a _ hollow
scooped out in the sand. At the Yukon
mouth and Saint Michaels they were
found breeding in scattered pairs over
the flat country. Every one of the nests
examined by me in these places had a
slight lining of grass or moss, gathered
by the parent, and upon this the first
egg was laid; as the complement of eggs
is approached the female always plucks
down and feathers from her breast until
the eggs rest in a soft warm bed, when
incubation commences.” Regarding the
care of the young Mr. Nelson says:
“The young are pretty little objects, and
are guarded with the greatest care by
the parents, the male and female joining
in conducting their young from place to
place and in defending them from dan-
ger. * * *. Wery frequently @umnaes
my visits to the haunts of these birds the
parents were seen leading their young
away through the grass, all crouching
and trying to make themselves as incon-
Spicuous as possible.” He also states
that all through the month of September
both the old and young gather in larger
flocks, and “as the sharp frosts toward
the end of September warn them of ap-
proaching winter, commence moving
south. The marshes resound with their
cries, and after some days of chattering,
flying back and forth, and a general
bustle, they suddenly start off in consid-
erable flocks.” Very soon thereafter we
begin to hear their cries, and see them
in the United States.
THE PRICKLY-ARMOURED CLASS.
Man has been very inventive and
skilled in contriving coats-of-mail, iron-
clads, plated armours and other para-
phernalia of defense against his ene-
mies; but Nature, itself, has kindly fur-
nished to many of the lower animals
the coat-of-mail and spiked armours
necessary for their protection.
The armadillo, the lobster, the tor-
toise, and many sorts of beetles and
other animal creatures have jointed ar-
mour plates almost exactly on the same
plan as those of the medizval knights.
The hedgehog (the porcupine) the
globe-fish, the prickly crab, the spiny
caterpillar, the prickly horned-lizard,
and others wear spiked defenses which
are ready at a moment’s notice.
Most of these varities of the animal
kingdom have spines subject to mus-
cular action, so that, though lying close
to their bodies n iturally, “the y may, at
will, be raised for defense instantly; but
in the vegetable kingdom, where there
are like defenses also, there are no mus-
156
cular movements, so the spikes, thorns,
etcetera, are fixed, and on the defensive
always. The nettle, the spiny cactuses
(the vegetable hedgehog), the colletia,
the gorse, the thistle; the Spanien
bayonette and many other spiked plants
all must be approached with guarded
stratagem. There is no catching them
asleep.
Among the animals, the hedgehog is
one of the most characteristic of the
spiny sort. He is a squat, ugly little
creature. He is cunningly inquisitive,
and appears quite comic, but he is
really very sedate, takes himself seri-
ously and is royally independent. He
has no tail worth mentioning. Accord-
ing to an old darky’s version, “Natur
done mah’ked him by cutting him tail
right smoove, smack off.” He is of a
dirty white color which merges, more
or less, into a dirty black. He has a
small head and sharp nose of the ant-
eater sort. His eyes are little,, beady,
black ones. He allows no familiar
liberties. If we meet him in the road,
instantly his head disappears, and we
see but a round ball apparently stuck
full of long needles, with every point
straight towards us. There is no chance
of playfully slapping him on the back
and» giving him an “Hello, old boy.”
He will not utter a sound, or even nod,
nor will he give us one inch of the right
of way. There he stays fixed, and all
we can do is to walk around him and
leave the unsociable fellow to himself.
Wa doses, he is, as yet, an unsolved
problem. One moment, on first sight,
he is a subject to be tackled for battle
oie tere sort, but the mext he is a
mysterious and painful one, to be left
-- severely alone forever after.
The hedgehog strolls along in a
@ont care when |’ get there manner;
plainly, his short, bandy legs were not
built for racing. If he happens to be
on the top of a hill he rolls himself
up in a ball and lets go. Arrived down
at the foot, he unrolls himself and pro-
ceeds on his way as though this were
the’ usual method of getting at the bot-
romn sor taimes, Elis habits of life are
nocturnal. He lives in a hole in the
hedge, or burrows himself in a heap
of leaves, and sleeps the day away in
owl-like seclusion; but when night
comes, he is up and doing. He is an
insectivore. Hard-shelled beetles is his
favorite diet; but, like the human tramp,
he knows how to adapt himself to cir-
cumstances and be thankful for almost
aiy sor of a° “hand out.” Im wititer,
when hand outs are altogether too few,
he elevates his spines and rolls himself,
over and over, in leaves until he has
stuck himself all about with a thick
“blanket; then he goes to sleep until
spring opens again. He is a queer
looking object at most any time, but
when he wakes up and ambles forth
from his winter’s nap, with his blanket
sticking in tatters all about him, he is
decidedly funny.
Like the opossum, the hedgehog is
a savory dish for some palates. But
it’s catching before eating. One way
is to push a shovel under him and throw
him in a pond and drown him. Then,
157
with the shovel, place him in a fire
until his hide, along with his pristles
can be peeled off with pincers.
The globe-fish—the sea-hedgehog—
has also the gift of being able to change
itself from the elongated shape, natural
whilst swimming, to a ball of bristling
prickles when danger threatens. It
rises instantly to the top of the water,
inflates itself with air, distending itself
into the shape of a globe. The skin
thus tightly stretched, the spines stand
defiantly out in every direction, form-
ing a radial ball as does its terrestial
analogue, the hedgehog. . When thus
distended, the fish becomes top heavy,
and turns topsy-turvy, floating on its
back at the will of wind and waves.
When all danger is past, it expels the
air from its mouth in little gurgles,
until it again subsides into its normal
swimming state. Few enemies would
dare attack a globe-fish when put thus
on the defensive, but it has been said
that live globe-fish have been found
inside the stomachs of large sharks—
it has even been said that globe-fish
have eaten their way out of sharks, but
we ica (these are ‘but . questionable
stories.
The prickly lizard, which lives in the
dry deserts of Asia and Australia, is
“selk immocent and harmless, but is,
nevertheless, a formidable looking crea-
ture with sharp spears all over its back,
and barbed hooks, or horns, on its nose.
Then there is an insignificent looking
caterpillar which seems but intent on
nibbling a few juicy leaves—the woolly-
bear caterpillar. Dare to touch him,
and instantly myriads of tiny, and
poisonous darts prick your skin, and
you will suffer for hours because of
having taken a liberty with the innocent
(?) creature.
There are a great many varieties of
animal and vegetable “‘sticklers”’; and
of each a volume could be written; but
the lesson we may learn, briefly, is that,
if we search the histories of the science
of warfare we will find that the so-called
great geniuses have, in their inventions,
gone to mother Nature for practical
hints and ideas.
Mary M. STRATNER.
THE BELTED PIPING PLOVER.
(4gialitis meloda circumcincta.)
The range of the greater number of
the Belted Piping Plovers is the Missis-
sippi Valley, though they are occasion-
ally seen as far to the eastward as the
Atlantic coast. Their breeding range
extends from Northern Illinois and Ne-
braska northward to Lake Winnipeg
and “eastward to the Magdalen and
Sable Islands.” Mr. Dawson records
the finding of their nests in Ohio on the
shore of Lake Erie in June, 1903. They
winter chiefly south of the United
States. The family of plovers (Chara-
drudae) contains one hundred species
which, during the breeding season, are
quite well distributed throughout the
world. While their habits in a general
way resemble those of the snipes, they
do not feed in the same manner. Their
food is obtained from the surface as
their bills are short and stout and not
fitted for probing. Probably for this
reason they do not frequent shallow
pohds and the wet margins of streams,
as do the snipes, but rather they inhabit
meadows and sandy areas. They run
swiftly and in a most graceful manner
over the ground. But eight of the spe-
cies belonging to the family are found
in North America.
The Belted Piping Plovers are also
called Ringed Piping Plovers and White
Ring-necks and are so popular with
hunters and collectors that they have
been driven from some localities. My
own observations of their habits have
been made on the shores of Lake Mich-
igan in the vicinity of Chicago where
they have at times been quite common,
and I have found that their habits are
similar in other localities. At the pres-
ent time, there are twelve or fifteen pairs
nesting in an isolated small area of this
region, and I believe that they return
each season and if the site is not found
by unscrupulous collectors that they
may eventually become abundant. In
1876 Mr. E. W. Nelson found them to
be common summer residents along the
158
shore of Lake Michtgan in northeastern
Illinois. He also found them breeding
as early as the last of the month of
April. My observations would indicate —
that they are now breeding at a much
later date, for I have never found them
nesting before the first of June, and I
have seen both eggs and young from
June to the first of August.
I have noticed that in the vicinity of
the southern end of Lake Michigan the
Belted Piping Plovers arrive in strag-
eling pairs from the last of April until.
about the middle of May. Seemingly
they have already mated and unlike the
other beach birds which mingle indis-
criminately, they seek such seclusions as
the narrow beaches afford. Fortunate-
ly the light color of their plumage pro-
tects them as there is not a strong con-
trast between it and the light-colored
sand. Their soft notes also do not read-
ily attract attention.
Their nests are only a shallow depres-
sion in the sand and their four eggs are
so colored and speckled as to well imi-
tate the sand in which ‘they testa
the locality of which I have spoken, the
nests are placed well back from the
water and in the fine sand between the
dunes and the shore. The young birds
when able to leave the nest are bright
and very interesting little chaps, and
their parents are affectionate and faith-
ful in caring for them. The nest is usu-
ally surrounded by a few small bones
and light-colored pebbles.
Mr. Dawson has given the following
description, in his “Birds of Ohio,” of a
male which entertained his mate with a
flight song. “He would circle round
and round with quivering wings, de-
scending curves a hundred feet or so in
diameter, and whistling the while a pro-
longed soft note with a rising inflec-
tion.” The nest of this pair was after-
wards located by Mr. Dawson and his
colleagues.
FRANK Morrtey WoopruFF.
From col. F. M. Woodruff.
4.005) San enna menneeminnyatienhenaeeinannn minnie tent
SOURS TN VETER IN RT AT) ECR PIO oe RE HER MEN ETT THEMEN TIN AINE AF MTN TTT RIRTMEI ROL UN MIT
BELTED PIPING PLOVER.
Coron Tre nenennen
mr
TOTTRATRR REE TERNCRH CO
eet hea ioe
Eyre
Copyrighted 1900, by
BIRD NOTES FROM
NOVEMBER.
I like the woods in early winter. The
wind slaps one in the face and boxes his
ears with the energy born of long so-
journ in the Far North; there are rust-
ling leaves as in “the good old summer
time,’ but they are underfoot, not over-
head; the trees stand out, each in his
own individuality, instead of losing
themselves in the forest.
Summer buries the senses under an
THE CUMBERLANDS.,
avalanche of sensations, colors, sounds, |
odors; winter makes one hunt for them,
and he feels all the better for his effort
when his search is crowned with success.
The lone oak that has kept its leaves in
spite of frost and wind can be studied
better now that his competitors for at-
tention have lost theirs. The bit of
blackberry vine with its green and red
leaves. peeping up through the first
snowfall is all the prettier for his dainty
background; the wild rose with red seed
vessels still adhering waves its slender
arms in the wind, secure in the belief
that there are no rivals to be feared at
this season of the year.
The birds, too, are not so confusing
as in the warmer months. Ii one has
passed the first stage of the ornitho-
logical infection ; if the itch for numbers
has given way to the steady glow of en-
thusiasm and one has come to study the
birds themselves; the reduction in the
number of species will prove only a
tonic. The coming of the cold tests the
ornithologists, sifting out the sheep from
the goats with unerring accuracy; it de-
cides definitely whether one’s enthusi-
asm is the real article or is a by-product
of spring fever, so to speak.
In 1903 winter settled down over the
continent much earlier than usual.
Even in the Cumberland region of East-
ern Kentucky where the ground seldom
freezes hard enough to support one’s
weight till after Christmas, winter, real
winter came soon after the middle of
1Al
November. Beginning with November
14, for five consecutive weeks I gave
one forenoon out of seven to the study
of a certain little valley and its life. It
was a very ordinary valley as valleys
go in that part of the Appalachians, and
I assure you that they .are numerous
enough to suit the most exacting
throughout the foothills of the Cumber-
lands; a creek, Red River the natives
call it, formed the center of attraction;
on both banks growing almost down to
the water’s edge was an almost impene-
trable tangle of river birch, alders, wil-
low and cottonwood. On both sides of
this narrow strip of bottom land rose
the hills forest clad to their summits,
thickets of haw and crabapple scattered
here and there among the larger growth, °
oaks, maples, beeches, chestnuts and
poplars.
Toward this little valley I set my face
that morning in mid-November. In the
weed patches near the stream juncos,
the “snow bird” of. a large portion of
our country were very plentiful. The
havoc that they were working in the
weed patch prophesied an easy: time for
the farmer next year in his struggle
with the weeds; if they work like this
for any length of time there won’t be
enough seeds left to propagate the spe-
cies. Here and there on the border of
the bottom lands.are clumps of smilax
still green and smiling if the frosts have
been hard and frequent. Distance lends
enchantment to the view; this particu-
lar variety of smilax, sometimes called
horse-nettle, is armed with strong thorns
that scratch and tear the shoes of all
who venture into their midst.
Leaving the lowlands I climbed the
hill opposite, not stopping till I came to
a terrace half way to the summit. This
shelf is covered with a fine persimmon
grove; already the elements and the
wild creatures have done their work
among the little amber globes, but here
is one that has plenty for me. Two or
three of the everpresent rocks hurled up
among the translucent spheres bring
down a grateful shower, soft-hitting,
sweet smelling. The ecstacy of the first
attack over, I pick up a generous hand-
ful of the fruit and seat myself on a pro-
jecting ledge of sandstone to enjoy my
treasures at leisure.
Fastidious epicures of a certain school
hold this mellow honeyed fruit in con-
tempt, asserting that it is too sweet for
persons of refined tastes, etc.
0) doubE ib is, ~prime) favorite Lorerne
‘possum and the pickanniny, but must
we eschew it because’ it is common or
because it is popular with marsupial or
African? If we acknowledge any such
precedent in what way can we establish
the thorough-going aristocracy of our
taste for chicken and watermelon, simi-
larly beloved?
The debate was running strong in
favor of the Diospyrus when an incident
occurred that changed entirely the cur-
rent of my thoughts, a flock of wax-
Plebeian,
- wings came suddenly upon the scene and-
settled in the top of my tree. The way
they tackle the persimmons would make
a dyspeptic green from envy; my own
appetite is satisfied and I don’t care; I
can lean back upon the hillside and
watch the onslaught. Dapper little fel-
lows they are with coats of gray and
brown so harmoniously combined that
one wishes milliners and dressmakers
would sometimes take a lesson from Na-
ture in color combinations. How the
unthinkable berries and impossible roses
would disappear from our streets and
homes! They flutter in and out a mo-
ment, then with a beady chirrup they
are gone over the hill; perhaps their
next stopping place for lunch will be
among the red cedars on the other side
of the Cumberlands.
November twenty-first found me
again headed for the little valley. The
previous night had been quite cold; ice
had formed clear across the stream: ex-
cept in a few places where the current
was very swift. Birds, however, are
more numerous than a week ago;
juncos are plentiful in the weeds of the
creek bed, the eye can scarcely rest any-
where without falling on drab and
white. The day is bright and sunshiny,
one song sparrow warms up enough to
sing us a few strains, a sample of what
he can do or rather hint of what he
might do if he reaily tried. Any music
at this season of the year is very accept-
able if it does lack some essential ele-
ment. I don’t know what term a musi-
cian would use, but I know that the real
lack in the music now is motive; there
can be no results without a cause, no
accomplishment without a motive; a
mate and a nest in the haw tree would
make all the difference in the world with
his music.
The song sparrow is not the only rep-
resentative of his tribe out this morning;
his brother of the fields is here skirmish-
ing about the worm fence, and a flock of
goldfinches in their winter garb fly over
my head uttering their plaintive “May-
be’ to make sure I would recognize
them, I suppose. They don’t need to do
that, the airy curved flight is all the evi-
dence one needs. A pair of cheewinks
are making the leaves fly in a thicket of
young birches; while I am watching
them a cardinal jumps out of the mys-
terious recesses of the tangle and flies
away up the valley; before long I hear
him or his brother whistling merrily;
winter suits him well enough.
Seventeen species in all for one fore-
noon’s jaunt, a fair record for this sea-
son of the year. Besides those I have
named I saw the Carolina wren, crow,
' Chickadee, tufted titmouse, downy
woodpecker, white-breasted nuthatch,
bluebird, red-breasted |= woodpecker,
162
robin, horned lark, and last but not by
any means least, the red-breasted nut-
hatch. ‘This is the first time I have ever
seen this bird; there is no mistaking
nuthatch motions for those of any other
genus; they are strictly sui generis. His
name is almost description enough to
any one who is familiar with his white-
breasted brother.
November 28. There is snow on the
eround to-day, not enough to interfere
with walking but plenty to show every
mouse, bird or squirrel track. The weed
patches that have been so full of busy
visitors on the occasion of my last two
visits are nearly deserted; a lone junco
flies out and away at my approach.
Farther up on the slope of the hill I find
them in plenty running in and out of the
blackberries ; no doubt they find it easier
work to hunt a breakfast under the
briars than to go to the trouble of dig-
ging the seeds out from under the snow.
Inthe tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipi-
fera) cardinals, nuthatches, and the two
species of titmice are holding high carn-
ival among the seeds which still adhere.
The cardinal seems a little awkward at
the business, but after a while he gets
what he is after, a true Yankee if he
does wear a coat of flaming red. The
nuthatch and the titmice are each quite
particular to follow one method of ex-
traction; the former hammers his seed
-into a crevice and proceeds to enjoy its
goodness at his leisure, while the titmice
clamp their booty down to a convenient
limb with one foot and split the cover
off with their sharp beaks. They say
that a man’s table manners when he is
off his guard fix his place in the scale of
culture and refinement. I wonder if
birds should be judged by similar stand-
ards, and if so which is the more polite,
to eat with one’s fork.or to hold one’s
beefsteak down with one hand while we
eat? rok yy
DECEMBER.
One week later. This week has been
very cold for Eastern Kentucky; the
snow that fell ten days ago is still on
the ground everywhere except on the
south slopes where the sun has had a
good whack at it. The woods seem
strangely silent as I turn toward the old
stamping ground along the creek; some-
where off in the distance ly hear the
hammering of a woodpecker, a downy,
most likely. Yes, hammering is the
word, not drumming or roll or call, for
‘he is engaged in the very prosaic busi-
ness of digging out grubs from a stub,
not.telling his chosen how much he loves
her. ;
It is no trouble to-day to find a good
place. to «cross the stream; the ice is
thick and supports one almost any-
where. In the weed patch that fur-
nished so many short orders for Mr.
Junco and his family I find a colony of
tree sparrows. They fly in and out of
the rag-weeds, stopping now and then
to pick out a good plump seed; I whis-
163
tle, one chap heeds and sits bolt upright
on the top of a weed; the sooty black
spot on the breast, the label of the spe-
cies, shows plainly now. Tree Sparrow
is a very good looking bird; his back is
a fine demonstration of the harmony and
the beauty that lies in simple greys and
browns tastefully placed; moreover, his
color scheme is modest and inconspicu-
ous, well suited to an industrious fellow
who has to. work for his living, rain or
shine,
The junco has but the shadow of a
title to the name “snow bird” compared
with Spizella monticola, he enjoys life
far better on the suriny side of a Missis-
sipp1 brake than in any nook of a hedge
or weed patch north of the Ohio, while
the tree sparrow seems to rejoice at the
coming of the “beautiful,’ and is so
sorry to see it go that he leaves with it.
Let us keep the title for the one who has
earned it and call the other simply by
his name “junco.”
Under a tulip tree I found the snow
literally covered with the hulls of the
rifled seeds; it was quite evident that
black cap and tufted titmouse had been
here for breakfast. In a second tulip
hard by I found the two and heard them
call: Black cap’s call rings clear and
sharp, “Chickadee, dee, dee”; his cousin
lisps a little, for he says, “Thickadee,
dee, dee.” They are an interesting pair,
indeed, I know that these Kentucky
woods would be lonely enough at this
season without the cheer of their voices
ant: presence. 9)"
There is vim and snap in the air to
day; it stirs the blood and makes one
want to do things; there is always a
good view from the top of the mountain
so up I go, if the snow does yield and
slip under my feet, till it seems that I
have climbed three such hills by the time
I reach the top. As far as the eye can
see there is one succession of ridges, ris-
ing here and there to the dignity of
ranges but constantly falling back into
common every-day hills. There is
scarcely a vestige of snow on the south
slopes, but the north ones have appar-
ently lost not an iota of the snowfall so
far this season.
As I stand on the ridge and fill my
lungs with this tonic air there is a rustle
of wings in the trees behind me, and
flash of blue, and our old friend the blue
jay is in sight. In the lowlands of the
Far South as well as of the North the
noisy blue-coat is a common winter resi-
dent, but in these foothills of the Cum-
berlands he is very uncommon at any
season of the year; in May and June
you will find a dozen yellow-breasted
chats to one blue jay. Just why.this is
true I do not know, for these magnifi-
cent forests of the Southern Appalachi-
ans furnish what to my eye are the best
of nesting places and opportunities for
unlimited plunder; no doubt there is
something lacking in these uplands,
some subtle charm of atmosphere or
flavor of the favorite food that will ac-
count tor his rarity in these parts. 3
One week later I made the fifth trip
over the course. The snow was getting
soft and beginning to disappear in the
sheltered spots under the combined in-
fluences of the sun and the warm south
wind. The rag-weed patch beyond the
creek is full of birds, juncos and tree
sparrows, harvesting the last of the
crop; up on the hillside where the tulip
trees are plentiful the titmice are mak-
ing merry; while from the slope beyond
comes the nasal “Yank, yank” of the
white-breasted nuthatch.
A downy calls, and somewhere in the
forest a red-bellied woodpecker speaks
his piece. The air is not so bracing as
a week ago, but the hill is soon climbed
and from a seat on a prostrate chestnut
I absorb the scene. The hills seem a
little barer than they did then, for the
soft mantle is being gently withdrawn
and all their ruggedness laid bare. A
loud cackle in the clearing before me
164
puts every nerve on the alert; I have
heard that voice before, but where? O,
yes, it was down in the Mississippi bot-
toms. A second cackle, he is evidently
just over the slope in the area of girdled
trees. After>.a tine, 1 seems: acmemp
long time, the bird flies across the open
in front of me, marking time with
strong wing. strokes in his undulating
woodpecker flight. He is large, as large
as a crow, it must be, it is the pileated.
A view of this bird is as good as a
feast, but after a while I turn from the
red and black beauty in the deadening
before me and retrace my steps. Here
are a group of sparrows jumping about
in the dim interior of a button bush
swamp, six “trees” and one ‘“white
throat.” No doubt the latter is only a
stray, lost from his herd and waiting
here among strangers: for something to
turn up..
With all their snow and ice the winter
forests have their attractions, none the
less alluring because they must be
sought out clad in overcoat and mittens.
It is the more serious side of bird life
that one sees at this time of the year;
there are no teasing antics, no playful
races, none of the ornamental graces
and the side-lights of the mating season.
When spring comes these hills and val-
leys will be alive with warblers, vireos,
tanagers and the other brilliantly col-
ored birds of the Upper Mississippi Val-
ley region, but none of them with all his
beauty of plumage and sprightliness of
manner can quite enlist our sympathies
or gain otir respect as do these sturdy
fellows that brave the rigors and perils
of the winter.
JAMES S. COMPTON.
Spe ae
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From col, F, M. Woodruff, CERULEAN WARBLER. Copyrighted 1900, by
(Dendroica caerulea.) A. W. Mumford, Chicago.
106 7-8 Life-size,
THE CERULEAN WARBLER.
(Dendroica carulea.)
Of the many diminutive feathered
songsters that spend the summer months
fi. tie. northern’ patt of the United
States, the Cerulean or Blue Warbler is
one of the most beautiful and striking.
The male is resplendent in his azure-
blue back and pure white breast, his
sides streaked with bluish black and his
wings with two white bars. The female,
like all of the warblers is less conspicu-
- ous, as becomes the one which is to per-
form the important duty of incubating |
the tiny eggs. Her coat is more or less
subdued to a greenish gloss and the
white becomes yellowish.
The Cerulean Warbler enjoys a wide
range, being found from Bolivia north
to New York, Ontario and Minnesota,
and west to Nebraska. The breeding
range is from West Virginia, Tennessee
and Missouri, northward. Curiously
enough it is very rare east of the Alle-
ghany mountains.
The nest is a neat little affair, saddled
on the horizontal limb of a tree from
twenty to fifty feet from the ground. It
is composed of the shreds of treebark
and vines, together with grass and veg-
etable fibre. Lichens may also be used
to ornament the outside. The inside is
lined with grass and fine shreds of bark.
The eggs are four to five in number,
three-fifths by half an inch in size. The
color is greenish, or bluish white spotted
with reddish brown and lilac. Some
eggs are creamy in color. The spots are
nearer the larger end.
The Cerulean Warbler is a sumimer
resident in the northern part of the
United States. It appears to be rare in
some localities and common in others.
In the southern part of Indiana and
Illinois it is one of the most common of
the warblers during the migrating and
resident period. Its arrival in this re-
gion may be looked for the latter part
of April, after which date it rapidly
spreads over the northern part of its
range.
The courtship of this species is inter-
esting and is thus described by Mr. E.
W. Butler in his Birds of Indiana: “The
males precede the females by from one
or two days to a week, and always out-
number them greatly. At once, upon
the arrival of the females, the season of
courtship begins. J have observed them
mating as early as April twenty-six, and
by the first week in May their time is
largely occupied in choosing a mate.
All does not go smoothly, however, for
frequently more than one of the beaux
has a very decided fancy for a particular
belle. There is a meeting between the
rivals, and frequently the battle is long
and severe. So engrossed do they be-
come at times that they fall, fighting, to
the earth, unheeding everything about
them. At this time the male is using his
utmost effort to sing his sweetest songs.
When he first came, his song was, z¢e-
zee-zee-e-e, the last syllable, sometimes
the third, sometimes the fourth, trilled.
It was not loud and shrill, but distinct,
carrying to a considerable distance. It
reminds me some of the songs of the
Helminthophilas, approaching nearest
to that of H. chrysoptera (golden-
winged warbler), and bears some re-
semblance to that of the Cape May
warbler. The song, however, changed.
In eight to twelve days it was tweet-
tweet-twet-twee-ee, ending with a trill-
ing or twanging effect on a rising scale.
At times, a part or the whole of the first
song is added to this more pleasing ef-
fort. Within twelve to fourteen days
after arrival, the differences have all
been settled, all are happily married, the
honeymoon has begun, and the most
thrifty pairs are housebuilding. The
Cerulean Warblers are, typically, birds
of the tree tops. Save when crouching
in some sheltered valley, to escape a raw
167
wind, I have seldom found them else-
where than among the limbs of the tall
maples, hickories and elms. There they
spend their time, obtain their living from
the many insects that infest the foliage,
flowers and bark, and build their nests.
The nests I have found were usually
forty to sixty feet high, on top of a hori-
zontal limb. The male evidently ex-
hausted his strength in his efforts to
overcome rivals and to show his atten-
tions to, his favorite. He now 1S not
able to assist in building the nest. His
wife does that, and he sings while she
works.”
This Warbler, with its seventy odd
relatives of the warbler family, is a great
destroyer of noxious insects. These tiny
birds, many of them of inconspicuous
colors, are. splendid insect destroyers
and they should be rigidly protected.
Especially should the collection of their
eggs be strictly prohibited, except for’
strictly scientific purposes and even the
number used for this purpose should be
limited. If the insect hordes are to be
kept within safe bounds for the agri-
culturist, the small, insect-eating birds,
such as the warblers, must be protected.
CoLLINS ‘THURBER.
MUFF.
Not a piece of fur stuffed with wool
and lined with silk, but one of the most
interesting little black terrier dogs that
you could ever see, OT his carly lite
little is known, as when we made _ his
acquaintance he was a tramp. :
One morning my friend noticed
that. "part of the, -breakiast “or her
little niece Helen, who, with her
brother and sister, was spending some
time with her, was disappearing into
Helen’s lap, and that the other children
were trying to appear very unconscious
of the fact. My friend wisely decided to
keep still, and watch the outcome of
the manceuvre.
When breakiast was finished, Helen
quickly disappeared by way of the kitch-
en door, and was promptly followed by
her brother’ and. sister: Atter’ a shart
time their aunt thought she would try
to discover the cause of their unusual
actions, and upon going into the wash
house, adjoining the kitchen, she found
all three upon their knees watching a
hungry little black dog eat his break-
fast.
Instinctively Helen’s affectionate arms
twined around the little fellow, and
looking up with her pleading eyes she
said, “Oh Auntie, please let me keep
him; I found him under the boardwalk,
and he was so cold and hungry that I
168
brought him in here and saved part of
my breakfast for-him. Please let me
keep him.” Wheréupon the little fel-
low, as if conscious of having found a
friend, stuck his nose into Helen’s face,
and kissed her with his‘ little red
tongue. This made all the children
laugh, and was all that was needed to
win their aunt’s approval, provided his
previous owners could not be found.
By common consent, he was looked
upon as Helen’s especial property, as
she had first discovered him, and now
it devolved upon her to find a name
for him. When he cuddled down in
her lap, she said; “Oh, he is so warm
and soft and smooth, just like auntie’s
muff, that I am going to call him Muff,”
and thus he was known from that day
forward.
As no trace of his former home could
be found, the children soon looked upon
him as their very own, and took great
delight in the unusual intelligence of
their little playmate, as he was an apt
pupil in learning all the little tricks they
wished to teach him. When with eager
eyes he looked into Helen’s face, she
would say, “O Muff, I know if you
could talk you would say many inter-
esting things, and I know you would
say that you love me.” With this, he
would bound into her lap, put his little
ff.
paw upon her shoulder, and his strug-
gling efforts to bestow his dog kisses
would end in a romp.
But these happy months were soon
over, and the children returned to their
own home, leaving little Muff behind
them, with many regrets.
By this time, however, he had found
a warm friend in their aunt, and in his
loneliness after the children had gone,
he gave all the affection of his warm
little heart to her. When he saw her
attired for the street, he would bound
to his feet, wag his tail, and by his
eagcr looks ask permission to go with
her, a favor very frequently granted;
but it was not always convenient to
have a little dog along, and never at
church or prayer meeting.
It was not lorg before he learned the
meaning of “No, Muff, you cannot go.”
Although these words chased all the joy
from his expressive eyes and tail, they
seldom failed to be effective. After
many months had passed by, it was
noticed that at church time on Sunday,
and at the hour for the weekly prayer
meeting, Muff never asked to go along.
When attention was-called to this, the
question arose, “How does Muff know
that it is church or prayer meeting
time?” It was at last concluded that
the bright little creature had noticed
that when the bells rang he was always
refused permission, so now had lost all
desire to go on those occasions.
As the years went by, his affection
for his mistress was often very touching.
If she was absent for any length of
time, he would hunt for her all over the
house, and when he failed to find her,
he would go to his cushion and lie .
down with a sigh that seemed entirely
human; and at one time I was sure I
detected tears in his eyes, which he
wiped away with his little paw. But oh, |
the joy of the homecoming. It seemed
sometimes as if his little heart would
burst, and for a long time afterwards,
every movement of his mistress was
jealously watched.
Usually he was very obedient, and a
tone of reproof was all that was neces-
sary to correct any transgression, but
on one occasion his desire for luxurious
connere for the mastery. “Fis own
169
bed was a soft cushion on the floor of
the library, but one day it» was dis-
covered from hairs left behind, that he,
when alone, had taken possession of a
large plush chair in the parlor. He was
taken to this and severely reproved,
and seemed very much ashamed, but a
few days later the same thing happened;
then for the first time in his life he was
whipped with a little switch. Fora long
time no traces of disobedience were
found; but one afternoon I was the in-
terested observer of a severe struggle
between his desire and his conscience,
and I am sorry to say he would have
yielded to the temptation if he had not
been prevented.
While he was asleep, I had taken
a seat behind the drapery of a large
bay window in the parlor, and was ab-
sorbed in my book, when suddenly I
heard. the pat, “pat- of little feet, and
on quietly looking through an opening,
I saw Muff standing before that chair
gazing longingly into its soft depths;
then he turned sadly away, and I re-
joiced, but he had taken only a few
steps wien, he returned. This he re-
peated several times, till my heart fairly
ached for the little hero, but, I am sorry
to say, at last he was just ready to
spring up, when I suddenly exclaimed,
“OQ Muff!” Then he turned, and with
head down and tail drooping slowly
walked to his cushion in the adjoining
room. I followed, and when I gently
put my hand upon his little head, he
looked up, saying as plainly as a dog
could, “Ill never, never, do it again,”
and I think he never did. When I said,
“Poor little doggie,” he put his delicate
little head in my lap, and looked so
much as if he wanted to talk that I was
full of sympathy for his speechless pain.
It was not long after this that the
end of his life came through a sad acci-
dent, notwithstanding the fact that he
had always been afraid of the cars, he
attempted to cross before a moving
train, and was caught by the cruel
wheels. .
So human did he seem that I cannot
but hope that even for little doggies
there is another life, free from pain and
accident.
AUGUSTA KLING.
THE WILD TURKEY. |
(Meleagris gallopavo.)
One of the most vivid recollections of
my boyhood is of the time when a flock
of eleven Wild Turkeys, perhaps the
last flock to be seen in that region, came
into a wood near our house. I remem-
ber the clear call of the birds, and
strained my ears day after day to hear
it again. We boys built a rail pen and
covered it over and dug a trench under
it, and scattered corn about, after the
pattern of a picture we had seen in a
book on traps but the Turkeys never
came.
In both general form and habits the
Wild Turkey is so similar to the well-
known domesticated turkey that a de-
tailed description of the bird would be
tedious; indeed, the domestic turkey
often goes half-wild and spends much
time running through woodlands, steal-
ing its nest and acting in every way like
the Wild Turkey.
It must be borne in mind, however,
that the turkey of domestication is dif-
ferent in origin from our Wild Turkey.
To get the precise relationship between
the two clearly in mind it will be both
helpful and interesting to consider
briefly the history of the tame turkey.
The early explorers of this country
found the turkey already in domestica-
tion among the Indians of Mexico. This
was a different species from our north-
ern Turkey, being paler in color, smaller
in size and very likely less hardy. Some
of these birds were taken to Europe,
where, under the supposition that they
came from Turkey they were called
turkey-cocks, a name later shortened to
its present form. Thus the name of this
bird, and “Indian” serve to remind us
yet of a bad geography-lesson our an-
cestors had long ago. ‘This bit of his-
tory may help explain the statement of
one writer who states that “the turkey
presents the remarkable case of an ani-
mal which has decreased in size, bril-
liancy of color and flavor through the
process of domestication.”
The early settlers of New England
found there our native Wild Turkey, a
larger, more brilliant bird than the bird
we know, and one of the largest and
finest game birds of the world. Using
the word “game” in the sense of it fur-
nishing sport, of putting the hunter to
the test of all his strategy and skill, it
could hardly be called a “game-bird”
then—possibly, however, no animal. has
ever deserved this term until man has
educated them and made them wary and
cunning. It seems to have been a rather
tame business getting them at first, and
even after they had learned the attitude
of man toward them and the range of a
gun, they could be trapped by flocks in
the manner described in the beginning
of this article; as the Turkeys, after
entering the pen and eating the corn
would keep looking upward for some
opening above their heads and never dis-
cover the trench by which they had en-
tered.
Another favorite way of getting a
turkey dinner was by using a turkey call,
which consisted of a sort of a hollow
tube (preferably the hollow wing bone
of another turkey). The hunter con-
cealed himself, and by placing one end
of the tube in the hollow of the loosely
clasped hands and sucking on the other
end, made a noise much like that of a
Turkey. If the scheme succeeded, some
‘old gobbler soon answered, and ap-
170
proached the supposed turkey. I re-
member reading an entertaining account
of a famous turkey-hunter who, having
found where a magnificent gobbler
ranged, started forth with his turkey
call. He hid behind a log and called,
soon an answer came clear and certain
from across the woods. ‘The hunter
crept from ambush to ambush, calling
from time to time. The gobbler also
ON ck sachs cncaLehin ceed
el a ee ee ee
came, his call sounding nearer and
nearer. At last it was well within range
and the hunter cautiously peered from
behind his covert, all a tremble with ex-
citement, his eyes dancing with ex-
pectancy. He gazed into the expectant
face of another famous turkey-hunter,
peeking from behind a log. Now, no
doubt, one of his most cheerful memories
is of the joke he had on the other fellow.
As has been said, the habits of the
Wild Turkey are almost identical with
those of the domestic turkey. The birds
go about in flocks, sometimes in open
places, sometimes in deeper forests,
feeding on mast and insects. One male
is usually found in company with sev-
eral females. In the spring the females
steal away and make their nests, where
they lay from ten to fourteen eggs.
They keep the nests hidden from the
male who, if he finds them, will proceed
to break up house-keeping at once.
It was practical, unimaginative Ben
Franklin, I believe, who proposed the
Turkey instead of the eagle as the na-
tional emblem, and gave a number of
very practical reasons therefor. Indeed,
there is a sense in which he is a national
bird, as he is the principal factor in the
one great feast that is distinctly an
American institution, and a feast which
means more to us perhaps than any other
day of the year, as it means home-com-
ing, and the gathering of separated fam-
ilies together around the old home table.
But I think we all have reason to re-
joice that Franklin’s excellent reasons
were not listened to, for take him all in
all, outside the enthusiasm of the hunter
when the bird has come within range or
the expectancy with which the epicure
looks forward to a savory dish, there is
hardly a bird on earth that can waken
less enthusiasm. If you want a good
half-hour’s amusement, sit down and
fancy the Wild Turkey as an emblem of
the republic. You will discover the
foundation for a rousing comedy. Think
of his picture on our coins, and the bills
we occasionally see. Imagine the car-
toons our European friends would make.
Think of the things our and other poets
have said of the eagle.
touched poets and authors,
173
Tennyson’s magnificent
He clasps the crag with hooked hands
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
and Drake’s
Then from her mansion in the sun
She called her eagle-bearer down,
and the hundreds of other references
you can call to mind, and try to substi-
tute “Turkey” instead.
Indeed, outside of the question of eat-
ing, and considering questions of char-
acter, there are few birds we view with
such lack of affection. Other game birds
appeal to us. The whistle of the quail
makes for home and summer-time and
feelings that lie near the hearts of men,
and the farmer actually loves them for
their cunning, bunty forms. He has
and Riley
speaks of him when he “whistles his
name in high delight,’ and one of the
most delicate touches in Irving is a bit
of description where the quail calls from
the empty stubble-field. The drumming
of the pheasant from the wood quickens
the pulse and starts the marching of the
long, long thoughts of youth. Even
among our barnyard fowl bold chanti-
cleer has had noble fame from time im-
memorial.
But the Turkey, with his brutal, dis-
reputably red face, his inordinate self-
esteem and constant strut, his flying into
a passion at the sight of a red rag, or
even a guying call, annul every feeling
of admiration that his brilliant colors
and stately form might awaken, and
even to those who are not gourmands he
looks never so handsome as when nicely
browned and hot and smoking, he
emerges from the oven where he has
received a richly deserved roasting.
While the Wild Turkey was formerly
found as far north as Maine, Ontario
and North Dakota, its range is now
practically limited to the region from
Pennsylvania southward to the Gulf of
Mexico and westward to the Great
Plains. It nests upon the ground at the
base of a bush or tree. The female only
cares for the young and, in fact, is de-
serted by the male as soon as she de-
parts to sit upon the eggs in her hidden
nest. H. WALTON CLARK.
AN AUNT JANE STORY.
| CURIOUS STONES.
“Aunt Jane, do come up into the
attic and see what a collection of stones
we have made,” said Bird one day when
it was too rainy for the children at
Woodland to be off on one of their fre-
quent rambles.
“Do, do,” John added, “for we have
designs on you for a talk about historic
stones. Our collection is of common,
every-day stones and pebbles, that one
can pick up almost anywhere, but we
want to know something about famous
stones, and we are sure you will tell us.
Now won't you?”
“John, you forget,” cried Howard,
“that we have a few stones by no means
common. ‘There is Edith’s Agate from
Agate Island in Lake Superior, which is
as large as a hen’s egg and a beauty, too,
and then there is Alice’s curious gray
stone with a face on it in white that
looks like a cameo of some old Greek
philosopher.”
There was a merry scramble up the
attic stairs, a dilapidated rocker was of-
fered Aunt Jane, and after she had duly
examined and commented on the geo-
logical collection she said:
“Children, when John Herschel was a
boy he asked his father, William, what
was the oldest of all things. The great
astronomer is said to have picked up a
stone and replied, “Here, my child, is
doubtless the oldest thing that I cer-
tainly know.’ The commonest rock has
a history of its own, full of interest, es-
pecially to one well versed in geology.
But there are other stones, around which
cling legendary and historic associa-
tions.”
“Are there any of these here in our
own country?” Alice inquired.
“Yes, in the memorial room in Lin-
¢oln’s monument at Springfield, Illinois,
there is a stone some two and a half feet
wide by three feet long, from the wall of
Servius Tullius, sent to Lincoln from
Rome in 1865. It bears this inscription:
To Abraham Lincoln, President for the
second time of the American Republic,
citizens of Rome present this stone from
‘the wall of Servius Tullius, by which
the memory of each of these brave as-
serters of liberty may be associated,
A. D. 1865. No doubt this gift from
Rome will long be preserved by the
American people as has the stone known
-as Jacob’s Pillar or the Stone of Des-
174
tiny by the English.”
“That stone given to Lincoln is one
we may all easily see,” cried Edith. “TI
am so glad; I mean to read all about
Servius Tullius and see if he was any-
thing like as great as our own Lincoln,
if he was a Roman.”
“Tell us about the Stone of Destiny,”
cried John, “1 like. the sound ‘ormdaar
word, destiny!” .
“It is a dark-colored stone, streaked
with red and is only some twenty-six
inches long, sixteen inches wide and
eleven inches thick, with surface de-
faced and scratched. Its legendary his-
tory is that it was preserved in the tem-
ple, taken to Egypt by Jeremiah, carried
thence to Ireland by a princess, taken
next to Iona and thence to Scotland at
Scone... Here for four. hundredgmaaa
fifty years, it remained, and Scottish
Kings were crowned upon it. Then it
was carried to England by Edward' L.,
and for five hundred years England’s
Kings have been crowned upon it, as it
is under the coronation chair in West-
minster,”
“Is there any writing on it?” Madge
asked.
“Yes, the inscription seems prophetic
as Queen Victoria is descended from
James of Scotland. It is this:
‘Where e’er is found this sacred stone
The Scottish race shall reign.’
Another stone of curious history is the
‘Moabite Stone,’ portions of which are
preserved in the Louvre.”
“How is it inscribed?” Howard asked
eagerly.
“Tt contains the oldest alphabetical
writing now known. It gives an ac-
count of a revolt of King Moab against
Jehoram, King of Israel, 890’ B. C.”
“People who go to Paris can see the
old curiosity,’ said John. “I wish I
could.”
“Much younger is the famous Rosetta
Stone, set up in 195 B. C. and discov-
ered in 1799. It proved a valuable key
to the interpretation of hieroglyphics.”
“That long word fairly takes my
breath away,” exclaimed Madge, “but
you need not stop to define it, my Sun-
day school teacher did that the other
day and I haven’t quite forgotten it
yet.”
“Then there is,” Aunt Jane continued,
“a stone called the “Sunday Stone,’ be-
cause it is a calendar of Sundays and
holidays.”
“And how did that happen, I'd like to
know,’ said John. |
“Tn this way. It is composed of car-
Hopare .Ot. lime. When the miners
worked in the colliery drain, from which
it was taken the water left a deposit col-
ored by coal dust; when not at work the
water ran clear and left a white deposit.
In time the black and white layers made
a stone of considerable thickness with a
black streak for day, a white one for
night, and a broad white one for Sun-
day, hence it has its name the ‘Sunday
Spore:
“Which is the largest stone you know
OL, Auntie?’
“The largest artificial stone in the
world is the one used as the base of the
Bartholdi’s Statue of Liberty in’ New
York harbor. It is made of broken trap
rock, sand and cement.”
“Were not the pyramids built of stone
of considerable size?’ Howard queried.
“Yes, it is estimated that one of the
largest weighs eighty-eight tons, yet the
stones of the pyramid are laid without
mortar and so close that a pen knife
cannot be inserted between them.
“Those visitors to earth from un-
known space, the aerolites, are often of
great size. One in Stockholm is said to
weigh twenty-five tons. In Washington
at the Smithsonian Institute there is one
from Mexico which weighs 1,400
pounds. Such stones are largely com-
posed of iron.
&
175
“The Astrologist’s Stone, or Devil’s
Looking Glass, used in Queen Eliza-
beth’s time to unveil the future, was
simply a polished piece of coal; but in
the British Museum may be seen a rock-
crystal once supposed to have a spirit
imprisoned in it.”
“T have seen a rock-crystal beautiful
enough for the home of some spirit,”
cried Edith. “Oh, I think rocks are
wonderful!”
“It is said that in Gothland stones are
found which are covered with a red pig-
ment that upon being rubbed turns yel-
low and diffuses the smell of violets,
hence such stones are called ‘Violet
Stones.’ Perfume is certainly an unex-
pecced” attribute wot: a rock, but, .1t,. 1s
doubtless due to the presence of an ex-
traneous substance in the pigment.
“There are so many curious stones in
Nature’s museum, stones sculptured by
the ages into rare forms, or dyed in
lovely colors, or filled with strange fossil
remains, that to make a living study of
them so as to become in a manner in
‘league with the stones of the field’ is a
most desirable pastime for you young
folks.”’
“Please tell us a little bit about Plym-
outh Rock?” pleaded Madge. “It is
an historic rock we all like to know
about.”
“Certainly,” she smilingly responded ;
“T do like you to feel interested in Plym-
outh Rock. I expected when I saw it
to find a great ledge of rock right on
the edge of the water, but what I really
saw was a large smooth looking rock
with a stone canopy over it and an iron
fence around it. My coachman said
that in 1774 an attempt was made to
raise the rock from its original bed, to
prevent it from being covered by the
falling in of the wharf about it. The
piece under the canopy was broken. off.
It was removed to the town, and during
the war a liberty-pole was erected upon
Mie
“How did they drag it so far?” Birdie
inquired.
“With horses, of course,” John re-
sponded. “You can move anything
with horses.”
“No, they used oxen. I do not think
they actually needed so many, but twenty
yoke of oxen were hitched on and a big
procession followed the stone. That
was a Fourth of July worth seeing!”
“When was the stone taken back to its
original site?’ Alice asked.
“Not, many ~ years ‘ago. “The ‘Plym-
outh Association feared it might be de-
stroyed in some way, and so it was
brought back and enclosed with a strong
iron fence and the canopy erected’ over
ut,
“Dear me,” sighed Alice, “how sorry
I am to know that no cold waves dash
over Plymouth Rock.”
“You wouldn’t expect water to stay in
the same place for hundreds of years to
accommodate you, and what if the rock
has traveled about a little, that doesn’t
hurt it one bit. Can’t you just imagine
Mary Chilton or John Alden stepping
on tue rece: For my part, I rriimie at
was Mary Chilton that landed first. It’s
just like a girl to want to and a boy to
let Her ado ate”
“Bravo!” said Aunt Jane. “I’m glad
your sense of chivalry helps you decide
the much-argued question. You know
the descendents of both Mary Chilton
and John Alden claim the honor. But
sit still a while, children, dear, and let
us try to picture the landing in our
minds. The bleak December day, the
barren rocks, the somber leafless trees,
the cold, biting winds, and an earnest,
but cold and worn, boat load of people
seeking new homes, thankful that they
had escaped the dangers of the- ocean,
courageous to meet the rough experi-
ences that were sure to come. Never
before did a nation spring from such a
disheartening beginning, and from such
God-like patience and faith of a little
handful of men and women.
BELLE Paxson Drury.
AN INTERRUPTED SERMON.
(Written on hearing a yellow-bird sing during a church service.)
e .
Twittering, fluttering, lilting on high,
Dipping and tipping wee head with each measure,
Preening and cooing and crooning near by.
Yellow-bird! Whence comes such rapturous pleasure?
What does he know of the Preacher’s oration,
Flooding through archway and stained glass ajar,
Swinging and flinging and bringing elation,
Isn’t he spreading bird-gospel afar?
Spilling and thrilling and trilling his carol,
Shaking soft feathers of olive and gold,
Where gray boughs and green leaves set off such apparel,
Hid in the elm-tree so stately and old.
Warble and treble and ripple, sweet singer !
Love is the theme which such anthems inspire.
Our Father keeps watch o’er the tiny joy-bringer,
Surely He cares for His small feathered choir.
—ETHEL WHITTIER BOYNTON.
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THE TURNSTONE.
(Arenaria interpres. )
Mr. Herbert K.
a sojourn by the
ened for me by
. Job has said: “Many
sea has been bright-
the presence of the
shore-birds. They are Nature’s con-
tribution toward filling a vacuum.
Every other sort of locality—forest,
pasture, prairie, "mountain, swamp and
ocean—has its peculiar birds, and so
has, therefore, the shore.” Among
these birds of the shore none are more
interesting or handsome than the Turn-
stones. While they are nearly cosmo-
politan in their distribution, they fre-
quent only the marine beaches and, in
the interior of America, the shores of
the Great Lakes and the larger rivers.
For this reason they are not known to
a large number of those who are inter-
ested in birds. Jf one desires to study
the Turnstones, a visit to the seacoast
during their migrations is desirable.
There they are not uncommon at the
time of their northward journey in May,
and also during their southward trip in
the fall. In such a locality, they may
often be seen feeding along the outer
beaches, either in small flocks of their
own kind or associated with other shore-
birds such as the semipalmated and
Wilson’s plovers, the plover-like sand-
piper, or sanderling, and the semipalmat-
ed ‘Sandpiper, or “peep as it 1s often
called. Not infrequently they may be
seen feeding singly, or in groups of
three or four. Their migrations take
them as far southward as Patagonia. It
is evident that they are birds of strong
and rapid flight, for they travel from
Patagonia northward to the Arctic re-
gions where they nest.
When in an-assemblage of other birds
with which they are liable to associate,
the Turnstones are easily distinguished
when feeding, by their larger size; by
the black of the neck and sides of the
breast, and the variegated reddish
brown color of the back. They may
also be easily known when in flight by
a peculiar display of white. Not only
is the plumage of the under surface of
their bodies white, but also that of the
linings of the wings. Their legs have
an orange red color.
The Turnstones seem almost bur-
dened with common names. Because of
the variegated coloring of their backs
they are called Calico Backs and Check-
ered Snipes, and their red legs have
given them the name of Red-legged
Plover, as in some of their character-
istics they resemble the plovers. Un-
like nearly all the other beach birds
whose plain and soft colors harmonize
so well with the sand that they are quite
inconspicuous except when in motion,
the Turnstones’ strikingly colored plu-
mage makes them always conspicuous.
Possibly it is a knowledge of this un-
fortunate condition that makes them shy
and inclined to be wild. They are very
fond of the eggs of the horsefoot or
king crab and are often called Horsefoot
Snipes. Brant Bird and Chicken Plover
are also common names of these birds.
The name Turnstone, however, is a par-
ticularly appropriate designation, for it
perfectly describes one of their most
marked habits. Upon the beaches where
they feed, they actively search for the
small marine creatures by turning over
stones, pebbles, shells, masses of sea-
weed, clods of earth and pieces of rub-
bish. Ordinarily, the bill only is used
to turn over lighter substances. The
bill is inserted under the object and the
179
head given a quick jerk. Sometimes
the head and the breast are used to assist
in pushing over some of the heavier ob-
jects. At times the birds will try’ to
overturn a stone or clod which is larger
and much heavier than themselves, and
sometimes they fail after trying a num-
ber of times. They seldom leave a feed-
ing ground until they have patiently ex-
amined every possible source of food,
which consists of the small marine crea-
tures such as worms, insects, crustacea
and the eggs of the horsefoot crab.
- The Turnstones breed only in Arctic
regions and nest upon the ground, lay-
ing their eggs in mere depressions in the
sand or gravel of sea-beaches. The
nest is a poor affair as the depression
in the sand is only very slightly lined.
THE CAMP ROBBER.
No doubt all of you have heard of
a bird called: the “Camp Redber ya
think that very few of you have seen
him, however. He is a bird that lives
far away from any human habitation,
up in the high mountains. He does
not seem to like the society of people
one-half so much as he does that of
the wild creatures. He’s a very inter-
esting bird to watch, and as I know you
are interested in birds, | am going to
tell you some things that I have ob-
served about him. Whenever I say
“nm” <1 anean "her? ase well, dor 14s;
very seldom that you see one without
the other. They always travel in pairs.
I always selected a nice place to make
the camp for the night when we were
traveling in the mountains, and the very
first thing that I would see after dis-
mounting from my horse was one or
both of these birds sitting upon the
lowest limb of a fir tree watching the
process of making camp. If, perhaps,
there was only one, by some process of
communication, that one telegraphed to -
its mate and in a very few minutes there
were two, sedately observing the ar-
-rangement of the camp. I opine that
they are more concerned about the dis-
position of the larder than anything
else. They always sat upon the near-
est limb of a tree that they may find,
and looked like a pair of gray friars
with ‘white cowls, as they silently
watched. After everything is made se-
cure, one may see them mounting the
tree, which they do by successive hops,
from one limb to another, higher and
higher, until they have reached the top-
trost bough. No person ever saw a
180
“Camp Robber” take his flight from
anything but the highest branch that
he could reach. Once there, he takes
one last look at the camp as though not:
to forget where it is, and then sails
away. There! now that bird has gone
and you will never see him again. Well!
don’t worry about that bird. He knows
his business just a little better than
any other bird of my acquaintance. In
less than one hour he is back to stay.
That is, he will stay until he gets some-
thing to eat, and that something tastes
a great ‘deal’ better af he cam srealeee
Meat is what he most desires but if
there is anything edible that he will not
accept (proided he can steal it), then
I have overlooked that article in my
camp kit.
Some people tell you that a bird can't
smell. I wouldn’t say that they can, but
this fact is well known to me, that one
of these birds will appear on the scene
within five minutes after you start to
cook a meal on the camp fire. He can
either smell or else has some sixth sense
that we poor mortals are deficient in.
No matter how long one camps at the
same spot the birds will be there in
constant attendance. The last thing at
night that you see is the gray forms; the
first thing that greets your vision at
daybreak is the same uniform of gray
sitting upon the same limb in the same
watchful attitude. They are always
ready to dart down and purloin any
morsel that may be overlooked for the
moment. Lay a bit of meat down and
turn your back and in an instant it is
gone. An amusing trick is to pin a bit
of meat to a stump with a stout nail
and secretly watch the birds attempt to
steal it. The look of chagrin upon their
faces when they find themselves unable
to fly away with the coveted bit is very
amusing. They always attempt to take
everything by stealth. Silently they slip
out to the end of a limb and when you
are not watching they dart down and
nab the morsel, flitting back to their
perch and looking as innocent as pos-
sible.
The “lumber jacks” have a great deal
of sport at the expense of these
feathered robbers during the winter
season in the logging camps. There
are always several of them about such
camps, where they pick up a very good
living from the scraps and waste from
the cook table. Failing in this, they
will eat the tallow from the team har-
ness. This has caused them to. be
called “Tallow Birds” by the woodsmen.
The trick that I spoke of seems to be a
little cruel, but as the bird is seldom
injured by it I must tell it to you. A
nice litle bit of meat is selected from
the loggers’ lunch pail and tied to the
end otva ~skid.? A “skid” is quite a
heavy pole some sixteen feet in length
and is used for rolling the logs upon
the rollway. The “skid” is then lain
across a convenient log so that it nearly
balances. The trap is now set for the
unsuspecting bird. A workman hides
behind a nearby rollway with a heavy
ax or maul in his hand. Soon the
“Camp Robber” espies the meat and
alights upon the end of the “skid.” No
sooner does he begin picking at the meat
and trying to carry it away than the
man with the ax strikes the other end
of the “skid” a powerful blow. Of
course the end upon which the bird is
sitting flies up and the bird himself is
tossed several yards into the air. This
process is repeated as often as there are
birds about, or until the ‘‘boss” calls to
the men “all out,” which means that
the men must resume work, the noon-
ing hour being spent.
It is said that these birds are always
found about the haunts of the moose,
and some have called them “‘Moose
Birds”. 1 wery much, doubt. if . this
be true, though I cannot say that it is
false. I am inclined to think that dur-
ing severe winters they may frequent
the “yards” of moose or other animals,
but that they follow after any particu-
lar band of animals, is subject to a
great deal of question in my mind.
I never could understand why the
bird was sometimes called “Whiskey
Jack.” There certainly never was a
more sedate bird and one as little given
to garrulity. His whole demeanor is
one of the greatest reserve. You would
suppose that he was expecting to attend
his own funeral the very next minute.
Then why call him “Whiskey Jack?”
Major Charles Bendire suggested that
it might be a corruption of the Indian
name for the bird. You had better look
up that Indian name and see if you can
see any similarity. I can.
It is a pretty difficult matter to find
the nest of this bird. I have looked for
them several times but only once did I
meet with success. I don’t know that you
would call it a success, either, unless
you call seeing a whole row of “Camp
Robbers” sitting on a limb with the old
ones at the head, success. I was riding
along a mountain trail with my eye out
for anything in the bird line when I saw
one of these birds. He was flying
through the timber leisurely, seemingly
without any particular object in life ex-
cept to kill time. Now, I have learned
enough about birds to know that when
they appear to be the least interested,
right then is when they have something
of grave importance on their minds. I
kept close watch on our friend in gray
until I saw him alight in the top of an
immense fir and gradually begin to hop
downward, limb at atime. By keeping
him in view I was permitted to see the
whole family at home—that is, near
home. The young ones had left the
nest—there were five—and were sun-
ning themselves not far from it. The
nest itself was situated near to the
_ trunk of the large fir and seemed to be
181
built entirely of moss. I continued on
my way, leaving the family watching me
until I was far out of sight.
CHARLES S. Moopy.
THE EUROPEAN KINGFISHER.
(Alcedo tspida.)
The English or European Kingfisher
was mentioned by the writers of very
early ages and is a notable element in
both classical and medieval mythology.
In medieval legends it was believed to |
have been at one time a plain bird of a
uniform gray color, but that when lib- .
erated from Noah’s Ark it flew toward
the sun and, as a result, the plumage of
its upper side changed to the color of
the sky above; its lower plumage was
scorched by the heat of the setting sun
and assumed the color which it has at
the present time. The dried bodies of
Kingfishers were also believed to pos-
sess a power which would create thun-
derbolts, and also that their bodies
would protect woolen goods from the
ravages of moths if laid with them. One
of the most interesting of these early
superstitions was, that if a Kingfisher’s
body was hung from the ceiling of a
room by a thread, in such a manner that
it would swing freely, its bill would al-
ways point in the direction from which
the wind blew. Pliny,'\in his Natural
History, relates an interesting supersti-
tion: “It is*for this that: the haleyon
(Kingfisher) is more especially re-
markable; the seas, and all those who
sail upon their surface, well know the
days of ‘tichbatton, ).% © Fo Te See
thing of very rare occurrence to see a
halcyon, and then it is only about the
time of the setting of the Vergiliz (the
seven stars, Pleiades), and the summer
and winter solstices; when one is some-
times to be seen to hover about a ship,
and then immediately disappear. They
hatch their young at the time of the
winter solstice, from which circum-
stance those days are known as the
‘halcyon days’: during this period the
sea is calm and navigable, the Sicilian
sea in particular.” Ovid tells us of how
Alcyone threw herself into the sea, be-
cause of grief for her husband, and was
changed into a Kingfisher, and how her
182
father Aeolus, the wind-god, caused all
gales to be hushed and the sea calmed in
order that their nest (her husband was
also changed into a Kingfisher) might
float uninjured on the waves. This
period of time was known as the Hal-
cyon Days. There are many other in-
teresting legends and superstitions re-
garding the Kingfishers.
The English, perhaps more properly
the European Kingfisher, is one of the
most beautiful of the birds of Europe.
They are solitary birds and quite local
in their habits. While not abundant in
any locality, they frequent every coun-
try of Europe, and also the northern por-
tion of Africa and the southwestern por-
tion of Asia. Their flight is rapid and,
as Robert Mudie has said, “There are
few sights in quiet nature more novel
and pleasing, or that one wishes more
to have repeated than the first glance
one gets of a Kingfisher, darting along
some reach of a clear but placid stream,
which glides between soft banks fringed
with reeds and bushes.” Frequently, as
they fly over the water, they will stop
their direct flight and, hovering over a
spot for a few moments, will suddenly
dart downward into the water and re-
turn with a fish, or possibly an insect
which may have been floating on the
surface of the water. They also watch
for their prey while perched upon the
boughs of trees, or other objects which
overhang the water. Upon the sea-
coasts, it is said, they will feed upon
small crabs. - Because of the freezing of
the streams in the northern portion of
their range, as winter approaches, the
Kingfisher must necessarily migrate
southward. As they dive for their food
and must see the fish first, they frequent
only those streams which are not turbu-
lent. Neither do they fish when the wind
roughens the surface or mud colors the
water. They must have “halcyon days”
when the waters are quiet and they can
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108
see their prey of fish. It is undoubtedly
this habit which gave rise to the super-
stitions of the ancient observers of
which we have already spoken.
These Kingfishers nest very early in
the year. The nest is at the end of a
tunnel which may or may not be bored
by them in a bank, and opens toward a
stream. The tunnel slopes upward and
may be straight or crooked as the birds
will frequently bore around an obstruc-
tion. While the nests are nearly always
built in the banks of a stream or other
body of water, they have been found at
some distance from water. One ob-
server records the finding of a nest
which was tunneled under the roots of a
fallen tree in woods bordering the river
Thames and fully a quarter of a mile
from its banks. The number of eggs
laid are usually six or eight and may lie
upon the floor of the chamber or upon
a mass of fish bones. These bones
which form the indigestible portion of
the fishes eaten by the birds are thrown
up in pellets by them. The young re-
main for a considerable time in the nest
and, in fact, it is said, tntil-they are
ready for the practice required in the
preparation for perfect flight for, on ac-
count of the usual position of the nests
in banks, they could not begin to obtain
their own food except by flying. Pliny,
as well as Ovid, believed that the nests
of the Kingfishers were built in a form
which would permit them to float upon
the water. Pliny says: “They make
their nest during the seven days before
the winter solstice, and sit the same
number of days after. Their nests are
truly wonderful; they are of the shape
of a ball slightly elongated, have a very
narrow mouth, and bear a strong re-
semblance to a large sponge. It is im-
possible to cut them asunder with iron,
and they are only to be broken with a
strong blow, upon which they separate,
just like foam of the sea when dried
up.” Cuvier has said that the objects
called by Pliny the nests of the King-
fishers were merely a low form of ani-
mal life which is similar in its form to a
nest. This belief that the Kingfishers
nested on the water led to the name
“Halcyon Days.” ‘These were the seven
days preceding and the seven days fol-
lowing the shortest day of the year and
were so called “from a superstition that
calm weather always prevailed at this
time, which was the brooding-time of
the Halcyon or Kingfisher. The nest
was supposed to float on the sea; hence
the bird was regarded as the harbinger
and symbol of calm weather, security
and peace.” The name Halcyon Days
is used, at the present time, to designate
any period of tranquility. Bret Harte
has written:
Thou bring’st me back the halcyon days
Of grateful rest, the week of leisure.
IN THE WOOD.
Here, in the solemn stillness of the wood,
Long ages past, some dying heart beat slow,
Some dusky watcher saw the shadows grow,
And cried her kinsmen to avenge the blood.
We hold us nobler than the men who stood,
Relentless, grim, with ready shaft and bow,
Waiting the watchful coming of the foe;
To fight—to die who might, to win who could.
In some far forest of eternity
Dwell those brave spirits ; and where once they trod
The blood of birds cries ever up to God,
And man stalks by, that all the world may see
The thirst for blood, the mad desire to kill,
‘The naked lust for life, unconquered still.
—GEORGE H. MAITLAND.
WHERE THE SUMMER WENT.
Did she not come a-down this way?
Would I could trace her steps to-day.
I saw the floating of her hair,
And now she seems not anywhere.
Her brow was wreathed with cardinal flower,
Her arms were heaped with goldenrod ;
And now for her the crimson tears
Are dripping in the woodbine bower,
Are dripping downward to the sod.
Oh!
Is she hiding now her face
Front me, tor) puta litle spacer
Or gone, where other summers went,
To rest through centuries content,
Within the Biding- Bec of God?
== Wee: CORA A. MATSON Dotson.
A VISIT TO A RED-TAILED HAWK’S NEST.
High up in a towering hemlock which
stood one-third of its length above the
other trees of the forest, a pair of red-
tailed hawks had built their nest. Year
after year it grew, as the birds returned
and repaired it; and year after year it
was the home of a happy family. High
above the cares and troubles of the
world; unmolested, save by the sun and
shadows, it cradled its restless brood
in summer, sheltered the squirrels in
autumn and rocked the little owls in
winter. Deep in its roomy crevices
many a brown nut was hidden by deft
little paws, and over the openings
spiders spun their webs, like sentinels
to guard the stores within.
One of those sunny mornings, just
as the crows were nesting and the leaf-
buds bursting in the sunlight of early
spring, I happened to be near this tree,
glass in hand, watching the newly-
arrived warblers and the growing insect
life about me. Little spiders were hang-
ing their first webs in the sun, newly
matured flies sported on crisp new
wings, and the black ants in a dead tree
nearby kept dropping down little bits
186
of decayed wood. Chipmonks raced
and chattered on the dry leaves and
gazed curiously from vantage points on
stumps and rocks. The crows called
and cawed from the spicy pine tops
back of me, and the broody call of the
female on her nest seemed to take in,
from the air and sunlight, a sound
of dreamy softness. Everything was
peaceful and happy.
All. of ‘A sudden ‘the loud,” gic
scream of a hawk came from overhead.
It sent the warblers helter-skelter and
the chipmonks to their holes. Soon it
was repeated, and, from way off in the
distance, an answer came floating back
as though born of the wind. A swift-
moving shadow shot past and I saw
a hawk alight in the tall hemlock, and
soon another came and settled in the
same tree. I listened and waited. It
seemed as though the sunlight would
betray me, or the soft breeze of spring-
time would carry tidings of my presence
to that lone treetop, and its tenants
would be gone. But no; for soon I
heard the loud voice of the male bird
calling and crooning a love song, so
wild, and weird, and fantastic that it
seemed as though the winds and wilder-
ness had lent their voices to it and
made it like themselves. For fully an
hour I listened to it without seeing
much, when the birds both left and I
ventured out. Great was my satisfac-
tion when I saw the nest, and for the
next few days I watched it closely.
Though I tried to keep out of sight as
much as possible, the hawks, in some
mysterious way, seemed always to be
aware of my presence and they never
let me see them in or very near the
nest. When ten days had passed and I
still saw signs of the birds, I determined
to climb the tree and get, if possible, a
picture of the nest and eggs. And
ment mere let me,add, my, troubles
began. The tree was three feet and a
half through at the ground and the
branches were few for some distance
up: Besides this, my camera and a
pocket full of plate holders did not help
me any.
Though I approached the tree with
the utmost caution, the mother bird
heard me and slipped quietly off the
nest and went away before I was hardly
in sight. After much trouble with the
camera, I reached the live limbs above
the lower dead ones, and from there
the way was easier. When I was within
twenty feet of the nest a crow, one of
that noisy crowd that was nesting in
the pines nearby, saw me and began
to caw with all its might. Soon it was
joined by another and another until the
air and wood seemed alive with crows;
indeed, I began to think that the crows
had some claim on the nest above me
after ‘all, and that the hawks were
deceiving me. Even now, I cannot
understand why the crows were so in-
terested,—it surely was not because the
hawk is a particular friend of the crows,
for he takes delight in tormenting him
whenever he can. But as I neared the
nest the crows began to disappear and
soon there was not one in sight.
The ‘size of the nest. surprised me;
indeed, I could not get around it on one
side only—the side on which the trunk
of the tree stood. Some of the sticks
in it were fully a yard long and of a
weight that seemed incredible. Almost
half a cart load of sticks and leaves
187
were gathered there, and it was well for
the owners that the limbs which sup-
ported it were strong, else the whole
would long ago have fallen to the |
ground. You may be sure that I was
eager to look over its rim and see what
was’ in it, for I had always longed to
see a real wild hawk’s nest. And I saw
one this time, surely. Two large, dirty
white eggs rested there on its nearly
flat top, as peacefully as though their
mother had been a domestic fowl, and
not a wild hunter of the wilderness.
The sun played upon them and danced
with the shadows over the nest, and
naught was in sight to show that this
was the home of a warrior, a hunter
whose very existence was earned by
killing. Little bits of white down from
the birds’ breasts clung to the twigs of
the) mest sand. to . the . surroundine
branches, like flakes of snow in winter.
The bark on some of the larger limbs
near the nest bore little scratches and
furrows, as fine as those from the en-
graver’s point, which were made by the
birds’ talons in alighting.
I was about to take a picture, which
was no easy task so high above the
ground, when a scream from the tree-
tops nearby told me that one of the
hawks had returned; I wondered if it
meant ill or good for me. Soon I heard
another scream, far away and faint in
the distance... looked “up atid far
above me in the silent ether, a black
speck appeared, which rapidly grew
larger and I knew that the mate was
returning. Dropping down like a
comet out of the sky, the large bird
alighted with a thud on a large oak
limb, not forty feet from my head.
Writhing and twisting in its heavy yel-
low talons was a black and yellow snake
three, feet and a half long. The bird
was entirely unaware of my presence,
for it quietly began to smooth the
glossy feathers of its broad back with
its bill; all the time, however, keeping
an iron grip on its feebly struggling
prey. For fully a minute I watched
it in the greatest admiration and delight
and then I moved,—ever so slightly,—
and the spell was broken. Those rest-
less yellow eves, trained to catch the
slightest motion, met mine so quickly
that they startled me, and the whole
appearance of the bird changed like a
flash. The snake dropped unnoticed to
the ground, where, though its spine was
broken, it squirmed as though alive.
The bird crouched low on its perch, as
a cat does before it springs; its glossy
coat ruffled and its yellow eyes glaring
defiance. It flew directly toward my
head and brought its wings together
just above me with a snap that. made
me dodge. Several times it wheeled
.and snapped above me, so quickly that
i could “net turn. “my head) rapidly
enough to follow its movements. The
last time it bumped into a bough almost
touching my shoulder, and its black-
tipped yellow talons came much too
near my face for comfort. Then for a
while it circled madly about, now and
then swooping down toward me but
never coming very near. Soon it was
joined by its mate, which had been in
the dense treetops nearby all the while,
and gradually they circled off into the
clear blue sky, farther and farther away
until their voices died in the distance.
And as they circled away, sick at heart
though they must have been, no majesty
was lacking in those broad, even
sweeps, and one would never surmise
that they left, for aught they knew, all
hope behind.
When they were gone I ascended the
tree somewhat above the nest and took
some pictures. When about to expose
the last plate, and when I was just
steadying the camera for the picture, a
crow’s shadow skimmed past like a
shot and I instinctively dodged it,
thinking, in the short time I had to
think, that the hawks had returned.
My hand involuntarily pressed the bulb,
upon which it was already tightening,
and the result was a photo of just half
of the nest, so nearly half, indeed, that
it shows but one egg, and the eggs were
touching each other, too.
When my plates were all exposed, |
hung the camera up and began to look
about me. It seemed as though I were
in another world, high up in the wavy,
leafy treetops. All was peace and quiet.
Far away, like a dim picture, the distant
river and meadows basked in the soft
sunlight, and here and there in the
deepest hollows, patches of snow were
visible. In the wood below I could
were quiet and loving at home.
188
hear every sound with a distinctiveness
that surprised me, and I understood, as
I listened, how the hawks with their
more acute senses of hearing, had so
soon become aware of my presence at
all times. A warbler calling in the
thicket below, or a chipmonk scamper-
ing over the dry leaves could be heard
with the greatest clearness, and as I
heard them I realized their disadvan-
tage when stalked by an enemy from
on high.
The breeze swayed the lofty tree
gently and imparted to it a dreamy,
restful motion, and I surmise that the
quiet joy of bursting spring set’ me to
thinking. Here beside me was the
home of a bandit, a highwayman whose
very appearance lent terror, and yet
it was peaceful and happy. Whatever
the owners’ lives were abroad, they
How-
ever merciless and cruel the hawks
were when hunting, they had a home
that for quietness and beauty all of us
might envy. The sun and wind played
on it as quietly as they ever would on
the yellow-throat’s nest in the thicket
below, yet in one it caressed a family of
marauders; in the other, the type of
gentleness. And so it seems that one’s
home, like his life, is what he makes it.
The same love that lived in the yellow-
throat’s breast and nursed her wee eggs
into life, soothed the fiery spirit and
cruel nature of these unquiet warriors
and made their home an ideal of devo-
tion and happiness.
Before descending the tree, I dropped
a weighted line to the ground to ascer-
tain how high it was. It was just sixty-
five feet to where the eggs rested, and
the camera was, of course, considerably
above this. I intended to return to the
nest after the eggs were hatched and
get a picture of the young birds, but
business, that interrupter of pleasures,
hindered me and I was obliged to leave
home before I had another opportunity
of visiting the nest. I suppose it still
rests there in that massive hemlock as
peacefully as it did when [I left it, that
morning when the crows were nesting
in the pines, and the warblers calling in
the thicket below, all the day long.
WALTER E. BURNHAM.
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From col, F. M. Woodruff.
107
YELLOW-BILLED TROPIC BIRD.
(Phaeteon flavirostris.)
1-4 life-size.
A.
Copyrighted 1900, by
W. Mumford, Chicago,
3
E
4
:
THE YELLOW-BILLED TROPIC BIRD.
(Phaethon flavirostris.)
The interesting and beautiful Yellow-
billed Tropic Birds frequent the sea
coasts of tropical regions, and to some
extent the coasts of subtropical regions.
In America, their range includes the
tropical coasts, the West Indies, the
Bahamas and the Bermudas. They are
occasionally seen on the coasts of Flor-
ida and have been reported as an acci-
dental visitant in western New York
and in Nova Scotia. These birds are
called Boatswains by sailors, and they
often follow in the wake of vessels sail-
ing in tropical seas, for many miles. Be-
cause of their tendency to follow the
path of the sun, Linnzus gave them the
fanciful generic name Phaethon, de-
rived from a Greek word meaning to
shine, and in mythology the word was
the name of the son of Helios (the
Sun) “who insisted on driving his
father’s chariot, and by unskilful driv-
ing set heaven and earth on fire.”
There are three well-marked species of
the Tropic Birds. They are the only
representatives of the family Phaethon-
tidae of the order of Totipalmate Swim-
mers (birds having the toes fully
webbed). In general, their habits are
similar to those of the terns. One of
their most striking characteristics is the
191
very long middle tail-feathers which, as
Mr. Chapman has said, “add greatly to
the grace and beauty of their appear-
ance when on the wing.” ‘They are cap-
able of long and extended flights, fre-
quently flying many miles from land and
they seem to be attratced by ships, upon
the mast-heads of which they will some-
times alight.
They nest in holes of high cliffs and
sometimes, as related by Mr. Oliver
Davie, in hollow trees and on the flat
surface of rocks. They breed in com-
panies and nest in large numbers in the
limestone cliffs of the Bermudas. They
are also said to breed extensively in the
islands of the Pacific Ocean.
The red-beaked tropic bird is more
southern in its range than the yellow-
billed species and is more widely dis-
tributed, as its range includes the trop-
ical portions of the Atlantic, the Pacific
and the Indian Oceans. It is only an
accidental visitant on the eastern coast
of North America, having been reported
only from the coast of Newfoundland.
The three species of tropic birds are
shore rather than sea birds, though they
fly for long distances across the open
sea.
NATURE NOTES. |
During the first days of last October
I gathered from my celery three cater-
pillars of the Asterias Butterfly. I put
them into a box covered with netting
and fed them a few days upon celery
leaves. They grew finally but did not
moult. I had some twigs in the box
and one morning I found one had spun
its cocoon and was hanging fast from
one of the twigs. The other two soon
followed and the box was set away to
await the springtime. In April the
box was put in among some plants in
a sunny window. April 2oth a flutter-
ing was heard in the box and a perfect
butterfly was found clinging to the net.
We mounted it after it was dry and
awaited further developments. May 2d
we noticed one of the remaining co-
coons had a small opening on top and
just behind what you would suppose
was the head of the insect. A fierce
looking head would dart out occasion-
ally and fall to nibbling the edges of
the aperture. For a few minutes, less
than ten, our attention was drawn away
from the box and when we looked again
an ichneumon fly was drying its gauzy
wings and making its toilet in the most
approved fly-fashion. So this had been
an unwelcome guest of one of the co-
coons, devouring its host in its zest for
its own growth and development. That
followed the way of butterfly number
one and was mounted in the same box.
The next morning as we stood watch-
ing the last cocoon, one of us remarked,
“I wish that one would come out and
so complete the story.’ In less than
ten minutes a bedraggled insect was
slowly crawling along the net. Both
pairs of wings were tightly rolled up and
most unlike a butterfly did it look.
It was an interesting sight to see
those wings slowly unroll themselves as
they dried out gradually. Little by
little the butterfly gained strength to
complete her toilet and soon a beautiful
Asterias was flitting about its cage. A
larger, finer specimen I never saw than
this. Mounted with its companion and
its uncanny guest, the ichneumon fly,
the three await the touch of the camera
to perpetuate the likeness of these
caterpillars whose story I have told
above. BertTiE M. PHILLIPS.
INDIAN SUMMER.
We deemed the Summer’s exquisite volume closed
And sighed, regretful, in the sharper air.
In royal robes the hills, broad-breasted, dozed;
The milkweed’s fairy fleet sailed everywhere.
Beneath the fervid blandishment of noon
The clasped leaves turn back.
Once more we trace
June’s radiant and gold-enmargined rune,
Then, smiling still, the frosty night-winds face.
—Lutu WHEDON MITCHELL.
—s ih * Fon s
The beautiful is as useful as the useful.—Victor Hugo.
RFS SOS TNT SRY Me aye
HN QONIZGNS COXOXOS GHG ENN
WASSIESS 39) + SASSI EME SSIASS a yy:
veel
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\
EDITED BY WILLIAM KERR HIGLEY
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY
oe
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oe ;
MY i
Be CONTENTS L
3B TO A BIRD (Jones Very) [Poem] - > . : - : : 9
ss 3 THE ALLEN’S HUMMINGBIRD [Illustration . - - - . 194
Le WINTER FEASTS (Lucie A. Peabody) E , : : : - 197
my THE BLACK GROUSE [Illustration] - - . - . - . 201 :
S BIRD SONG (Belle Paxson Drury) - - - - : = 202 vs
asd THE ENGLISH SPARROW [illustration]. - - - : . : 204 ’
Ye THE FEATHERED AUTOCRAT (Andrew James Miller) - - - 207 it
ah THE HOLLY (EvelynSinger) - - : ; . - : : i,
is THE AMERICAN FLAMINGO (Collins Thurber) [Illustration] - - 213 4
A “GO TO THE ANT, THOU SLUGGARD,” BUT NOT TO THE SQUIRREL ,
of: (Lee McCrae) - - - - : - : * - - 215 yw
as THE CHARMED SNOWSTORM (Willis Edwin Hurd) [Poem] - - 215 Ls
the THE RING-NECKED PHEASANT [Illustration] - aS - i 216 ij
8 WE WERE SEVEN '(Mrs. M. A. Maitland) [Poem] . - - - 219 .
THE WALNUT (Evelyn Singer) - - - . . - - : 220 (%
SING! BOBOLINK, SING! (Dr. A.C. Ferguson) [Poem] - - - 222.
THE BRONZED GRACKLE (H. Walton Clark) [Illustration] : - 225
4 THE PIGEON FAMILY (Amy Taylor 2 . - : - - 226
i THE BLACKBIRDS’ BREAKFAST (Mary Noland) [Poem] -— - : - 227
F THE VERDIN [Illustration] - - . - - - > : 228
a4) A WINTER RAMBLE (Charles FP. Fudge) - : - > - - 231 ;
us THE BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER (Nelly Hart Woodworth) [Poem] 232 43
rag THE GREEN-WINGED TEAL (Frank Morley Woodruff) [Illustration] . 235
ig THE FURIES’ DAY (Bessie Andrews Dana) [Poem] - - . ° 236 »-
4 INDEX : - : : > . - : ° : - - 237 a!
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he _ ‘TRERMS AND CONDITIONS OF PUBLIGATIOR «te
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BIRDS AND NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
TO A BIRD.
Thou singest alone on the bare wintry bough,
As if Spring, with its leaves, were around thee now;
And its voice, that was heard in the laughing rill,
And the breeze, as it whispered o’er meadow and hill,
Still fell on thine ear, as it murmured along
To join the sweet tide of thine own gushing song.
; Sing on, though its sweetness was lost on the blast,
And the storm has not heeded thy song as it passed ;
Yet its music awoke, in a heart that was near, |
A thought, whose remembrance will ever prove dear ;
Though the brook may be frozen, though silent its voice,
And the gales through the meadows no longer rejoice,
Still [ felt, as my ear caught the glad note of glee,
That my heart in life’s winter might carol like thee.
—Jones Very, “THE WINTER Birp.”
193
THE ALLEN’S HUMMINGBIRD.
( Selasphorus allent.)
The Allen’s Hummingbirds occupy a
very limited and narrow range lying in
the Pacific coast regions from the south-
ern portion of British Columbia south-
wards through the states of Washing-
ton, Oregon and California, into Mex-
ico. They have also been reported from
southern Arizona where at an altitude
of forty-five hundred feet, Mr. W. E. D.
Scott obtained an adult-(mate im the
Santa Catalina Mountains. When flying
this Hummingbird very closely re-
sembles the rufous species (Selasphorus
rufus) which frequents the same terri-
tory, and there is no doubt that the
bird of our illustration is frequently
mistaken for it. Allen’s is also called
the Green-backed Hummingbird. Its
breeding range is undoubtedly co-ex-
tensive with its distribution in the
United States. It has been reported a
common summer resident at Gray’s
Harbor, Washington, where it seemed
to be just as common as the rufus spe-
cies.
This beautiful Hummingbird was first
discovered by Mr. Charles A. Allen, at
WNicasio, California, and he was later
honored in the naming of the spécies.
In a letter written by Mr. Allen to Ma-
jor Bendire, and quoted by him in his
“Life Histories of North American
Birds,’ Mr. Allen relates his observa-
tions of the habits of these birds at
Nicasio, where they arrive about the
middle of February and commence
nesting soon after. He says: “The
earliest date on which I found one (a
nest) was February 27, 1879; this was
then about half finished, when a heavy
storm set in which lasted about five days
‘and I did not visit the locality again un-
til March 8, when the nest was com-
pleted and contained two fresh eggs. I
have taken their nests as late as July 3.
and am well convinced that two broods
are raised in a season, at least by all of
the earlier breeding birds. ‘They select
all sorts of situations and various kinds
of trees and bushes to nest in. I have
found their nests as low as ten inches
and again as high as ninety feet from
the ground.”
194
All observers of the habits of Allen’s
Hummingbirds agree that their courage
is remarkable, and is, perhaps, more
marked than that exhibited by any other
of the smaller birds. They are also ex-
tremely pugnacious. Mr. Allen says:
“T once saw two of these little warriors
start after a western red-tailed hawk,
and they attacked it so. vigorously that
the hawk was glad to get out of their
way. But these little scamps were even
then not satisfied, but helped him long
after he had decided to go. Each male
seems to claim a particular range, which
he occupies for feeding and breeding
purposes, and every other bird seen by
him encroaching on his preserve is at
once so determinedly set upon and
harassed that he is only too glad to beat
a hasty retreat. During their quarrels
these birds keep up an incessant, sharp
chirping and a harsh, rasping, buzzing
with their wings, which sounds very
different from the low, soft humming
they make with these while feeding. Ev-
ery action and motion at such times in-
dicates that they are as mad as can be.”
At such times other birds must get out
of their way. The males often noisily
quarrel among themselves, and while
the females are much more quiet, they,
too, quarrel when two or more meet
while feeding on the same bush. The
misunderstanding ends only when all
but one have departed. “During the
nesting and breeding season the male
frequently shoots straight up into the
air and nearly out of sight, only to turn
suddenly and rush headlong down until
within a few feet of the ground. The
wings, during the downward rushes,
cut the air and cause a sharp, whistling
screech, as they descend with frightful
velocity.” Mr. Allen believed that if
they should strike any obstacle in their
FROM COL. F. M. WOODRUFF
113
ALLEN’S HUMMINGBIRD.
(Selasphorus alleni),
Life-size,
ees ON ne eae
— |
COPYRIGHT 1900, BY A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO
downward course they would be in-
stantly killed.
The nests of these Hummingbirds are
beautiful and compact structures built
on either trees or bushes. The walls of
the nests are constructed with tree
mosses and fragments of lichens which
are thoroughly fastened together by the
use of spiders’ webs. The nests are lined
with soft vegetable down. As is the
case with all the Hummingbirds whose
nesting habits are known, the Allen’s
Hummingbird lays but two white eggs.
WINTER FEASTS.
“Down from the roofs in gusts are hurled
The eddying drifts to the waste below;
And still is the banner of storm unfurled,
Till all the drowned and desolate world
Lies dumb and white in a trance of snow.”
The winter season of 1904 was cold
and sharp and in this locality many
times the thermometer went below zero
even to fifteen and twenty. The snow
was deep also, for storm followed storm
and the sleighing was continuous from
Christmas to the middle of March.
After New Years, the zero mornings
were more frequent and the snow deep-
er and we called it a very old-fashioned
winter. Three or four robins had been
seen two days before Christmas, but we
hoped they had journeyed south before
the big snow of January the ninth,
which filled the country roads so full
that they had to be “broken out’ as the
saying is, done by a team with six
horses.
On January the eleventh, | heard two
chickadees in the apple tree and threw
-out some crumbs, and one sharp-eyed lit-
tle fellow soon spied them, flew down
and seized one and carried it off. They
came all winter, half a dozen of them,
and would call for crumbs and then. dart
down to secure one, even while I stood
in sight. A small bone was hung by a
long string to a small branch and it was
highly amusing to see a chickadee cling
to the under side of it with his tiny
claws and swing round and _ round.
Yet he got a bite and quite frequent
bites as well as exercise. Such a tiny
gymnast and a friendly cheerful com-
panion is he all the year round.
The juncos were more shy, and
many times I wanted to say while a big-
ger bird was away with his crumb,
197
—Mrs. EtizapetH Akers ALLEN.
“Quick, now, get it before -he comes
back.” But it would hesitate and by
the time its mind was made up and it
had advanced to the desired bit, the
larger bird was back and poor snow
bird had to depart. Few juncos seem to
winter near my home in Massachusetts
but in spring flocks are seen as they are
preparing to go North and they cover
the back garden, picking up weed seeds.
The downy woodpecker also came to
the feast, a solitary one, and he chased
the chickadees from the clothes post
where a piece of suet was tied, and had
his share. It seemed natural to him to
be clinging to something as he ate, but
later in the winter I saw him pecking at
a bone lying in the middle of a big yard,
a most exposed spot; and one day when
driven by the pangs of hunger he was
even taking oatmeal mush spread on a
a piece of wood and laid on the snow:
I thought the trees around must be dry
and stripped of grubs or he would not
have come to such a low table. He isa
beauty always to my eyes, and seems to
be content with his own company.
A tree sparrow came more than once
but always alone. Did he live all win-
ter so, or was he left at one side when
his relatives found a better winter home
than cold Essex County? But I was de-
lighted to see him, and unseen behind
my window, observed all his fine points
and dainty way of feeding.
The guests who wore the handsomest
dress and gave me most entertainment
were the blue jays. I had never seen
them so near the house before, but one
cold January day a big fellow lighted
in the peach tree only twelve feet from
the kitchen window where I stood, an
hour at a time, watching my visitors.
He looked about a bit to investigate and
then seized Georte. We Phillipsy Iris. gtr ee oc eee 108
teense eer iSO y Diyas Susi roniam aps cate AEN Persie. aos BI ESO PE 6
ey esiener. Mhegmernuiiroit:) ci UiMSEGAn COU.) 10% wa. d cextiw s hae GS Oe SO oo eed ES 146
Pease, SOc IGE OCII = LAG IUOMellr sta, stents. meee ie Od ok dare cs ee ie been Meee |
Goldenrod, The Optimistic. (Poem) Belle A. Hitchcock..... PES Secret s ON ae oe eee I2I
image. the, (illustration) b.. Waltom Clark? 700.9. Wages hele) bias edad Wlsloe oie es 98
fae oe American Whie-imonted: ChiIMStraLlOnl (2. goo. oe tr ce Sb yee es one ee cee ss 155
Cams nde Maid (Poem) 4 homes leficrson Manhinis:. {tet latoe basi. ~. Paierdwies Sadak bee 79
foaekic. hue brongzed.. (illustration) ~H Walton Clark 0. c2 oy cues oe wee teed and baee 225
Grouse, Ehe Black. (Tlhustration,):).:02..:.. 2. .«.,. Sek te Haw be ttle one MobhtnG rac ots ve ee Wake UE sy 201
eniscn Gea mie, (EMUStRatiOM) t2%s4 o's cemycye ie: Soha ke winds aed cole om oe ere met ee 44
Puen doen hee ied, se MLOSETALION .)...< je crhia Wa na etlls alsine eiajeuienele eo ss Sed dene C8 Ls cles 14
few Ss Nest, A. Visit tora Red-tailed... Walter, Eo Burnham . aoc. sca cc ee dee nee eo 186
Heron, The Black-crowned Night. (Illustration) Frank Morley Woodruff............... II
Pence esicn thc. Gorm). hla theo MOSIoy ks 'scsatecen ses keine Minch ws ete e sce eats Geet s orn 61
ees rere TUE Vis ere EON ety Sy ODN eg ones a eat o MN cic hg IO 2 ie a oan aible 8g Slsleld F Sum Se wale eae 208
RiimmMinoined an oy sO bsefvations ar a. Harlan Trask. .2: 0.22508. 5 6 es ye be bee eee 80
Pee TAMMR HM ad Cl ORAS et wks EET, WN TRIS GE ATITN fs: coe oco,.c0 sacs Boe sic a= Eisie eases. or wv ojaepe ds cee ae pees 78
Hummingbird, The Ruby-throated. (Illustration)................ EE ies saa St 75
Emeriean ice Abe eG SS.” WC PIMISUPALION cn gs.'s ce de ee oda able ape o0e ek moe seon eons vie win dee wn we ae 194
mee eEpeLSe. CET WWen WEECIN TATE oi ohaygepre cic er cieeya)s wie fS phe no ashe e a cime naw Qaiesee awe ns 72
Rane eerenlG. aC Opn pate ECON. lati Dalle. er ese aie ek pela « cicdk, ele ieiaive Gels ccusceccaceecves 77
ae luce Narentenei es ellarmonia Pate tious. 2h bake bel eW ok eee eee ee wee 140
jeaee Wine: State-cotmreds o4fiiisthatiOM): \ 42:2 cccdlewos ds. wales LRM Sos so ace ek cee ace cen 143
meena yr erat) CIN RINE, «os ie) .(os sw SARS Rae Ie oa eb Te AU 6 LES Se ee eS we cay aie oe 31
euetSaer vb Ne ere ieatia sms ECATION ).. 6... oo on tamed ge clase. pun biepie lle» vce ave tes op Se en 182
Kaneiet, Lhe Kuby-crowned. -(iMustration) ..... 0.5.8 ..008. ec. ee Pah ose So a 86
eee Erie (MASEPSIGaR pr! oS .. .. sss sew hele cies ee emacs cw op ecseleece sme yo 2c ee ai 110
ie eet ee SMI Ue OMI WNC COMER Mea: ws. 2 vis pects ew oc evan ce ceccovesccess Cast wate 97
Linden Tree, The. Evelyn Singer ................. Ree i Ae mee Me a ace 2 a een 65
a
AL. 4 |
Meadowlark, A ‘Western: Hattie’ Washburn co. acoso en eee Le y - 2 ee
Midsummer. (Poem), Mrs. Cora A. Matsom:Dolsem 9?!to5,... 22... fas) eee 7a
Mining Proposition, A=) “kurh Marshall) ois so ara eee pls a 2 210 lee viene So ee 109
Mockingbird, The: .- (illustration |.) 24>. pm ee ae ae ee a ces toy» Bele oot 2
Mockingbird, The. (Poem),-Eulu W Wedom iiteleliy, ai ees a) Oe ee ee a9
Muff (The Story of a: Deg), (Atensta: Kime. ..< 2% 30s spe ee ee ee 168
Nature Neétes: “Bertie We Phillips)? hc eens ae tee ene MeL LAP ae Pei peeE tae es a 192
Nature’s Friendship. (Sonnet) Bessie Andrews Dana..................... [Ae 145
October. (Poem) Clara Kendrick Blaisdell....... 1S Noes aro ob Ghee di dt é Septal eae 140
Oriole, The Baltimore. (Illustration)............ va aa: ve sapelianate ch ah apepeiia Bl onate LAR ol ae oe eh 26
Orioles’ Did, What the.“ Jobm Gould y: 022. 2e ita alee ehas. 9.0) ne eet ee ee 36
Owl) The Snowy...’ (Iillustration,.<......%..Gsse Eye BAWs G, dighe Hsia his eo, pen ges ak ee 35
Pear, Phe Prickly, 2; Nima 41mg 55 (bo Scr ae tacks uae eee nc ca ee 85
Pepper ‘T'ree;, The California,’- Alice; Ms Dowde :. 25.5055 Siete ie. cee ee 24
Pewee, ‘The Wood: (Illustration nc) 5.382 eed Oey tc ke ke ee 13k
Pheasant; The Ring-necked. | (Illustration):.....0..-2.5 20. OT a Ase 216
Phliebe,;‘The.«: (lustratioms 0s eo 08 Le es LE ie ote Re EL 2, UO a 83
Pigeon Pamily,:‘The. Amy Taylor..on. 5 ae Oe ee ee ee 226
Plants;Curious,: ‘Belle Paxson: Driny 2 204.5552. wo ee te ee 54, 126
Plover, The Belted Piping. (Illustration) Frank Morley Woodruff ..... .:.....:....... 158
Prickly-armoured:Class;; The.) Mary «M; Strattier.26. 20> Sees. 21s, oe. eee 156
Rose, Lhe Wild) (Poem) Edward Bamford: Heaton \2o.- ee a eee Say 48
Sanderiime,” Lhe: s(Poem): Eliza Woedworthy sy .2 57 a somes a eae eae ee i37
Sapsucker, The Yellow-bellied. (Illustration) Collins Thurber.............:.....22...,. 11g
Sea-cucumbers, Odd. Ellen Robertson Miller.....:......... ha eter dake Ma os, ita ae 12
Sermon, An Interrupted. (Poem) Ethel Whittier Boynton........... CT RE me: 176
Shrike, The Loggerhead. ' (Mhistration)). Collins Thurber: -:.4.- aah enoeel eee 23
Snowflake, The. (Illustration) Frank Morley Woodruff........... hokesteiMiichs ois Bee Re eee 134
Snowstorm, The Charmed. (Poem) Willis ea Fur: », cig co cascgt 18 6) ooh te aad aoe 215
Soanet, "A, Mrs: Me Ay Maitland! a8: fy occa: . oo ee ae ee en 139
Sparrow, Whe Poglsh.~ (Eiustration)) <2... asin 2 (sere en ads). ee Le ee 204
Sparrow, Lhe Rescue ofa... Nina ime ane awl etcetera 56
Spatrow, Lhe Song.” (Mlnstration) “H,-Waltom Clark .iic.achtkacy. . 2 59
Spactrows, Jennie’ Wren aad the.) Harmonia Tate... oi... 1.1.02) Woke ook eee) 80
Sider Courtship.) Louise Jamison. . court on ol) oa i ELE Ss. ee ee et
stones, Curious... Belle Paxson Drury) io ence ners ey i ade nat pay rr
Summer, Indian. (Poem) Lulu Whedon Mitchell......... Wisihigte Ai. ees oe 192
Summer Went, Where the. (Poem) Mrs. Cora A. Matson Dolson ............ ... ...¢. 186
pavilt,, Phe: Chimney.. “(lllmstration) 7.0/2 is, Aes feed ames hols, ont 107
Tanager, he: Scarict...; (INustration). ae ae ee eee ee Rta Ee os a as TR i Poa
Tanager, The Story of Bobbs the... Ellas. Mosby 23. . Ae SUA eee a 41
Teal, The Green-winged. (Illustration) Frank Morley Woodruff....................... 235
Thrush, A True Story as Told-by a Little Wood, M. RBs Chases? 2) /) 4.22500.) eee 31
Thrush, The Hermit,. (iWustration): ‘Collins Thurber... .)/2223 sy eee 50
Thrush, The Hermit, (Poem): Maiti Willis iain ie Nucielg cane auld cowed antennae 53
Thrush, The Russet-backed. (Poem) » Nelly Hart Woodworth.......2.... cccccccuccecce 96
Tropic Bird; “Che Vetlow-billed:: “(ClMlistratiom |i. -.s way wers.c mie oeiak canton ponies © gents «6 5 a IgI
Turkey, The Wild. \CUllustration): -H.-Waltom Clark |. tics... «chica ccal cata eke 170
Tirnstone,The.: (Tlmstration)}: ir ieee os cade tk cco oe p nee ane hein, cece ao te 179
Veery,. The. (Poem) “Charles WashburmaNichols) Wty bamborrs
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