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eBiRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS
By FLORENCE A. MERRIAM
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BY
FLORENCE A. MERRIAM
Che Rwersioe
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
Che Viverside Press. Cambridge
1898
Copyright, 1889,
By FLORENCE A. MERRIAM.
All rights reserved.
nian Inseiz ‘upp
JUL 22 1933
Were 5OT
Nationa Musev
The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
PREFACE.
Like Snug the joiner, in Midsummer Night’s
Dream, I would explain to the ladies at the out-
set that this little book is no real lion, and that
they have nothing to fear. It is not an ornitho-
logical treatise. It has not even the lion’s roar
of technical terms and descriptions to warn them
of raging dulness, but is “a very gentle beast.
and of a good conscience.”
It was my good fortune when in college to be
able to study the perplexities of nearly forty
young observers, and this book is virtually the
result of what I learned of their wants and the
best ways to supply them. Equipped with opera-
glasses, we worked together in the woods and
fields, and books were rarely consulted ; but when
I was asked “ How are we to know the birds at
home, where we have no one to help us?” I saw
their need of books. But what could they use ?
Few of those who want to know the birds have
time or inclination to become ornithologists, or
Vi PREFACE.
even to master the vocabulary of ornithology
which would enable them to use the expensive
Keys and Manuals for identifying birds. This,
then, is what I have tried to do: To furnish
hints that will enable not only young observers
but also laymen to know the common birds they
see about them.
Hints, I offer; nothing more. Many birds I
leave unmentioned, because they have never
chanced to come before my opera-glass; and
often my own local experiences! are given in-
stead of generalizations, because habits vary
greatly in different sections, as in the case of the
catbird, who shuns all habitations in Louisiana
while he is a familiar village gossip in the north
and east, and I would hold to my boast of a
“ood conscience.” I tell the truth about what
I have seen through my own Voigtlander und
Sohn, —a most excellent make of glass, by the
way,-—and leave earnest observers to see and
learn more for themselves.
Nevertheless, it is not merely those who can go
1 My notes were made either at Northampton, Massachusetts,
or Locust Grove, New York. The latter place is in the Black
River Valley, on the western border of the Adirondacks, and
may always be understood, not only when the word “ here ”’ is
used, but in all cases where no locality is specified.
PREFACE. Vil
to see for themselves I would tell of my walks ;
it is above all the careworn indoor workers to
whom I would bring a breath of the woods, pic-
tures of sunlit fields, and a hint of the simple,
childlike gladness, the peace and comfort that is
offered us every day by these blessed winged mes-
sengers of nature.
Many of the articles herein contained were
published in the Audubon Magazine in 1886.
These have been revised and largely rewritten.
The others now appear for the first time. The
illustrations are from Baird, Brewer and Ridg-
way’s History of North American Birds. For
permission to use them I am indebted to Mr.
Ridgway.
Locust GrovE, New York, January, 1888.
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HINTS TO OBSERVERS.
WHEN you begin to study the birds in the fields and
woods, to guard against scaring the wary, you should make
yourself as much as possible a part of the landscape. Most
birds are not afraid of man as a figure, but as an aggres-
sive object.
The observance of a few simple rules will help you to be
unobtrusive.
First. Avoid light or bright-colored clothing. A dull-col-
ored jacket and an old leaf-colored hat that you can pull
over the eyes or push back from the face as the light re-
quires, will do excellent service if you do not wish a com-
plete suit.
Second. Walk slowly and noiselessly. Among the erisp
rattling leaves of the woods, a bit of moss or an old log
will often deaden your step at the critical moment.
Third. Avoid all quick, jerky motions. How many
birds I have scared away by raising my glass too suddenly!
Fourth. Avoid all talking, or speak only in an undertone
—a most obnoxious but important rule to young observers.
Fifth. Tf the bird was singing, but stops on your ap-
proach, stand still a moment and encourage him by answer-
ing his call. If he gets interested he will often let you
ereep up within opera-glass distance. Some of the most
eharming snatches of friendly talk will come at such times.
Sixth. Make a practice of stopping often and standing
perfectly still. In that way you hear voices that would be
lost if you were walking, and the birds come to the spot
x HINTS TO OBSERVERS.
without noticing you when they would fly away in advance
if they were to see or hear you coming toward them.
Seventh. Conceal yourself by leaning against a tree, or
pulling a branch down in front of you. The best way of
all is toselect a good place and sit there quietly for several
hours, to see what will come. Then you get at the home
life of the birds, not merely seeing them when they are on
their guard. A low stump in a raspberry patch and a log
in an alder swamp prove most profitable seats.
In going to look for birds it is important to consider the
time of day, and the weather. Birds usually follow the
sun. In spring and fall you will find them in the fields
and orchards early in the morning, but when the sun has
warmed the south side of the woods they go there ; and in
the afternoon they follow it across to the north side. Dur-
ing heavy winds and storms you are most likely to find
birds well under cover of the woods, no matter at what
time of day; and then, often on the side opposite that
from which the wind comes.
For careful observation in general, three rules may be
given.
1. In clear weather be sure to get between the sun and
your bird. In the wrong light a scarlet tanager or a blue-
bird will look as black as a crow.
2. Gaze. Let your eyes rest on the trees before you,
and if a leaf stirs, or a twig sways, you will soon discover
your bird. At a little distance, it is well to gaze through
your glass.
3. Beware of the besetting sin of observers. Never
jump at conclusions. Prove all your conjectures.
CONTENTS.
a Sead
. The Robin
- The Crow .
. The Bluebird
. The Chimney Swift ; Chimney Swallow”
. Catbird :
. Keel-Tailed enna boase Blickbind: Buea
Grackle .
. Bobolink; Reed- Bird; Rick. Bird
. Ruffed Grouse; Partridge
. Ruby-Throated Humming-Bird : “
. Meadow-Lark . . .
. Black-Capped Ghivkadoe’ PiiGhodee.
. Cuckoo; Rain Crow . :
. Yellow Hammer; Flicker :
. Baltimore Oriole ; Fire-Bird; Golden Robin: di
Nest
. Barn Swallow
. Belted Kingfisher
. Chip-Bird or Chippy; Hair- Bird; Gipine Spar
row; Social Sparrow .
XVIII. Song Sparrow
XIX. Blue Jay
XX. Yellow-Bird ; Ree Goldfinch ; Thistle- Bird
XXI. Phebe
XXII. King-Bird ; Bee Mert : :
XXIII. Wood Pewee. : : : -
XXIV. Least Flycatcher . : é -
XXV. Red-Winged Blackbird
. Hairy Woodpecker : A ° .
X11
XXVII.
XXVIII.
XXIX.
XXX.
XXXI.
XXXII.
XXXII.
XXXIV.
XXXYV.
XXXVI.
XXXVII.
XXX VIII.
XXXIX.
XL.
XLI.
XLII.
XLII.
XLIV.
XLV.
XLVI.
XLVII.
BSh VAL.
XLIX.
L.
LI.
LIT.
LIT.
LIV.
LY.
LVI
Lyi
LVIII.
LIX.
LX.
LXI.
CONTENTS.
Downy Woodpecker 99
White-Bellied Nuthatch; Devil- Done Head ~, 100
Cowbird 105
White-Throated sue 109
Cedar-Bird ; Waxwing 112
Chewink; Towhee . ib
Indigo-Bird 119
Purple Finch 122
Red-Eyed Vireo . 124
Yellow-Throated Vireo 129
Warbling Vireo . 131
Oven-Bird ; Gaideneeered Tieask) 182
Juneo; Slate-Colored Snowbird . 138
Kinglets . 140
Snow Bunting ; Saavik - 144
Scarlet Tanager 146
Brown Thrasher . 150
Rose-Breasted Grosbeak . 153
Whippoorwill : : 155
Winter Wren . ; ; : 155
Red-Headed Woodpesker 159
Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker 160
Great-Crested Flycatcher 163
Bank Swallow; Sand Martin . 165
Cave Swallow; Cliff Swallow 166
Crossbills 166
Night-Hawk; Bull eae 169
Grass Finch; Vesper ies : Bane Winged
Bunting : : Til
Tree Sparrow ; : 172
White-Crowned Same ; : : 2 AS
Field Sparrow; Bush Sparrow 174
Fox Sparrow . 175
Brown Creeper . : ; : : : 176
WARBLERS.
Summer Yellow-Bird; Golden Warbler; Yel-
low Warbler. : : ; 179
Redstart 180
CONTENTS. xiii
LXII. Black and White Creeping Warbler : . 184
LXIII. Blackburnian Warbler; Hemlock Warbler;
Orange-Throated Warbler é C : 186
LXIV. Black-Throated Blue Warbler . ; 2. 18h
LXV. Yellow Rumped Warbler; Myrtle Warbler 189
LXVI. Chestnut-Sided Warbler . 4 : : e 190
UXVII. Maryland Yellow-Throat; Black Masked
Ground Warbler : 3 : . : 191
LXVIII. Thrushes. : og
LXIX. Wilson’s Thrush ; Veer ; Tony Thrush . 198
LXX. Hermit Thrush - : - . 202
APPENDIX.
Pigeon-Holes for the Perching Birds mentioned in this
book . P : 2 : ; 206
General Family Chine of Bir ds Treated : - 208
Arbitrary Classifications of Birds Described . . 5 211
Books for Reference . ; : : : ; ; . 220
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BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
WE are so in the habit of focusing our spy-
glasses on our human neighbors that it seems an
easy matter to label them and their affairs, but
when it comes to birds, — alas! not only are there
legions of kinds, but, to our bewildered fancy,
they look and sing and act exactly alike. Yet
though our task seems hopeless at the outset, be-
fore we recognize the conjurer a new world of in-
terest and beauty has opened before us.
The best way is the simplest. Begin with the
commonest birds, and train your ears and eyes by
pigeon-holing every bird you see and every song
you hear. Classify roughly at first, — the finer
distinctions will easily be made later. Suppose,
for instance, you are in the fields on a spring
morning. Standing still a moment, you hear
what sounds like a confusion of songs. You think
you can never tell one from another, but by listen-
ing carefully you at once notice a difference. Some
are true songs, with a definite melody, — and tune,
if one may use that word, — like the song of several
of the sparrows, with three high notes and a run
2 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
down the scale. Others are only monotonous
trills, always the same two notes, varying only in
length and intensity, such as that of the chipping
bird, who makes one’s ears fairly ache as he sits
in the sun and trills to himself, like a complacent
prima donna. Then there is always plenty of gos-
siping going on, chippering and chattering that
does not rise to the dignity of song, though it adds
to the general jumble of sounds; but this should
be ignored at first, and only the loud songs lis-
tened for. When the trill and the elaborate song
are once contrasted, other distinctions are easily
made. The ear then catches the quality of songs.
On the right the plaintive note of the meadow-
lark is heard, while out of the grass at the left
comes the rollicking song of the bobolink.
Having begun sorting sounds, you naturally
eroup sights, and so find yourself parceling out
the birds by size and color. As the robin is a
well-known bird, he serves as a convenient unit
of measure —an ornithological foot. If you call
anything from a humming-bird to a robin small,
and from a robin to a crow large, you have a
practical division line, of use in getting your
bearings. And the moment you give heed to col-
ors, the birds will no longer look alike. To sim-
plify matters, the bluebird, the oriole with his
orange and black coat, the scarlet tanager with
his flaming plumage, and all the other bright birds
can be classed together; while the sparrows, fly-
BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS. 3
catchers, thrushes, and vireos may be thought of
as the dull birds.
When the crudest part of the work is done, and
your eye and ear naturally seize differences of size,
color, and sound, the interesting part begins. You
soon learn to associate the birds with fixed local-
ities, and once knowing their favorite haunts,
quickly find other clues to their ways of life.
By going among the birds, watching them
closely, comparing them carefully, and writing
down, while in the field, all the characteristics of
every new bird seen, — its locality, size, color, de-
tails of marking, song, food, flight, eggs, nest,
and habits, — you will come easily and naturally
to know the birds that are living about you. The
first law of field work is exact observation, but
not only are you more likely to observe accurately
if what you see is put in black and white, but
you will find it much easier to identify the birds
from your notes than from memory.
With these hints in mind, go to look for your
friends. Carry a pocket note-book, and above all,
take an opera or field glass with you. Its rapid
adjustment may be troublesome at first, but it
should be the “inseparable article” of a careful
observer. If you begin work in spring, don’t
start out before seven o’clock, because the confu-
sion of the matins is discouraging — there is too
much to see and hear. But go as soon as possi-
ble after breakfast, for the birds grow quiet and
4 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
fly to the woods for their nooning earlier and
earlier as the weather gets warmer.
You will not have to go far to find your first
bird.
1
THE ROBIN.
NExtT to the crow, the robin is probably our best
known bird ; but as a few of his city friends have
never had the good fortune to meet him, and as he
is to be our “ unit of measure,” it behooves us to
consider him well. He is, as every one knows, a
domestic bird, with a marked bias for society.
Everything about him bespeaks the self-respecting
American citizen. He thinks it no liberty to dine
in your front yard, or build his house in a crotch of
your piazza, with the help of the string you have
inadvertently left within reach. Accordingly, he
fares well, and keeps fat on cherries and straw-
berries if the supply of fish-worms runs low. Mr.
Robin has one nervous mannerism — he jerks his
tail briskly when excited. But he is not always
looking for food as the woodpeckers appear to be,
nor flitting about with nervous restlessness like the
warblers, and has, on the whole, a calm, dignified
air. With time to meditate when he chooses, like
other sturdy, well-fed people, his reflections usually
take a cheerful turn; and when he lapses into a
poetical mood, as he often does at sunrise and
THE ROBIN. 5
sunset, sitting on a branch in the softened light
and whispering a little song to himself, his senti-
ment is the wholesome every-day sort, with none
of the sadness or longing of his cousins, the
thrushes, but full of contented appreciation of the
beautiful world he lives in.
Unlike some of his human friends, his content
does not check his activity. He is full of buoyant
life. He may always be heard piping up above
the rest of the daybreak chorus, and I have seen
him sit on top of a stub in a storm when it seemed
as if the harder it rained the louder and more ju-
bilantly he sang. He has plenty of pluck and
industry, too, for every season he dutifully accepts
the burden of seeing three or four broods of bird
children through all the dangers of cats, hawks,
6 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
and first flights; keeping successive nestfuls of
gaping mouths supplied with worms all the sum-
mer through.
His red breast is a myth and belongs to his
English namesake ; and it must be owned that
his is a homely reddish brown that looks red only
when the sunlight falls on it. Huis wife’s breast
is even less red than his — in fact, she looks as if
the rain had washed off most of her color. But,
perhaps, had they been beautiful they would have
been vain, and then, alas for the robins we know
and love now. When the children make their
debut, they are more strikingly homely than their
parents ; possibly because we have known the old
birds until, like some of our dearest friends, their
plainness has become beautiful to us. In any case,
the eminently speckled young gentlemen that come
out with their new tight-fitting suits and awkward
ways do not meet their father’s share of favor.
Perhaps the nest they come from accounts for
their lack of polish. It is compact and strong,
built to last, and to keep out the rain; but with
no thought of beauty. In building their houses
the robins do not follow our plan, but begin with
the frame and work in. When the twigs and
weed stems are securely placed they put on the
plaster —a thick layer of mud that the bird
moulds with her breast till it is as hard and
smooth as a plaster cast. And inside of all, for
cleanliness and comfort, they lay a soft lining of
THE ROBIN. 7
dried grass. This is the typical nest, but of course,
there are marked variations from it. Usually it
is firmly fixed in the crotch of a branch or close
to the body of the tree where its weight can be
supported.
But who does not know instances of oddly
placed nests outside of trees? The “ American
Naturalist” records one “on the top of a long
pole, which stood without support in an open barn-
yard,” and Audubon notes one within a few feet
of a blacksmith’s anvil. A number of interesting
sites have come within my notice. Among them
are: the top of a blind; an eave trough; a shingle
that projected over the inner edge of an open shed;
and, most singular of all, one inside a milk-house,
set precariously on the rim of a barrel that lay on
its side, just above the heads of the men who not
only appeared both night and morning with alarm-
ingly big milk pails, but made din enough in ply-
ing a rattling creaky pump handle to have sent
any ordinary bird bolting through the window.
Robins usually nest comparatively high, though
Audubon tells of a nest found on a bare rock on
the ground, and this summer I found one in the
crotch of a small tree only two and a half feet
from the earth. It was near a hen yard, so per-
haps Madam Robin was following the fashion by
laying her eggs near the ground. In any case,
she was on visiting terms with the hen-roost, for,
singularly enough, there were feathers plastered
8 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
about the adobe wall, though none inside. Per-
haps the weather was too warm for a feather bed!
—or was this frivolous lady bird thinking so
much of fashion and adornment she could spare
no time on homely comfort ?
Longfellow says :
‘‘'There are no birds in last year’s nest,’’
but on a brace in an old cow shed I know of, there
is a robin’s nest that has been used for several
years. A layer of new material has been added
to the old structure each time, so that it is now
eight inches high and bids fair soon to rival the
fourteen story flat houses of New York. A re-
markable case is given in the “ Naturalist” of a
robin that had no “ bump of locality,” and distri-
buted its building material impartially over nearly
thirty feet of the outer cornice of a house.
You may look for robins almost anywhere, but
they usually prefer dry open land, or the edge of
woodland, being averse to the secluded life of
their relatives, the thrushes, who build in the for-
est. Those I find in the edge of the woods are
much shyer than those living about the house,
probably from the same reason that robins and
others of our most friendly Eastern birds are wild
and suspicious in the uninhabited districts of the
West — or, who will say there are no recluses
among birds as well as men ?
The flight and song of the robin are character-
istic. The flight is rapid, clear cut, and straight.
THE ROBIN. 9
Unlike many birds, he moves as if he were going
somewhere. His voice is a strong clear treble,
loud and cheerful, but he is not a musician, and
has no one set song. His commonest call has two
parts, each of three notes run together ; the first
with a rising, the last with a falling inflection,
like, tril-la-ree, tril-la-rah ; tril-la-ree, tril-la-rah.
But he has a number of calls, and you must be
familiar with the peculiar treble quality of his
note to avoid confusing it with others.
Tn the fall, Lowell says,
‘¢ The sobered robin hunger-silent now,
Seeks cedar-berries blue, his autumn cheer,”’
and this “ sobered”’ suggests a question. Why is
it that as soon as robins form flocks, they become
shy? Is it because they are more often shot at
when migrating in large numbers; or because, as
Mr. William Hubbeil Fisher suggests, they have
left their homes, and so have lost confidence in
the surroundings and people ?
In some localities they live on cedar-berries in
the fall, but here they are well -satisfied with
mountain ash berries, wild cherries, and ungath-
ered crab apples. Speaking of their food, what a
pity that anglers cannot contract with them for a
supply of bait! Woe betide the fish-worm that
stirs the grass on the lawn within their hearing!
How wise they look as they cock their heads on
one side and stand, erect and motionless, peering
down on the ground. And what a surprise it
10 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
must be to the poor worm when they suddenly tip
forward, give a few rapid hops, and diving into
the grass drag him out of his retreat. Though
they run from a chicken, robins will chase chip-
munks and fight with red squirrels in defense of
their nests or young.
II.
THE CROW.
THE despised crow is one of our most interest-
ing birds. His call is like the smell of the brown
furrows in spring — life is more sound and whole-
some for it. Though the crow has no song, what
a variety of notes and tones he can boast! In
vocabulary, he is a very Shakespeare among birds.
Listening to a family of Frenchmen, though you
do not know a word of French, you easily guess
the temper and drift of their talk, and so it is in
listening to crows — tone, inflection, gesture, all
betray their secrets. One morning last October
I caught, in this way, a spicy chapter in crow fam-
ily discipline.
I was standing in a meadow of rich aftermath
lying between a stony pasture and a small piece
of woods, when a young crow fiew over my head,
cawing softly to himself. He flew straight west
toward the pasture for several seconds, and then,
as if an idea had come to him, turned his head
Dg RE PTO a
THE CROW. 11
and neck around in the intelligent crow fashion,
circled back to the woods, lit, and cawed vocifer-
ously to three other crows till they came over
across the pasture.
After making them all circle over my head, per-
haps merely as a blind, he took them back to his
perch where he wanted them to go beechnutting
— or something else. Whatever it was, they evi-
dently scorned his childishness, for they flew back
to their tree across the field as fast as they had
come. This put him in a pet, and he would not
budge, but sat there sputtering like a spoiled
child. To everything he said, whether in a com-
plaining or teasing tone, the same gruff paternal
caw came back from the pasture. “Come along!”
it seemed to say. To this the refractory son would
respond, “I won’t.” They kept it up for several
minutes, but at last paternal authority conquered,
and the big boy, making a wide detour, flew slowly
and reluctantly back to his family. He lit ona
low branch under them, and when the father gave
a gruff “1 should think it was time you came,” he
defiantly shook his tail and cleaned his bill. After
a few moments he condescended to make a low
half sullen, half subdued remark, but when the
family all started off again he sat and scolded
some time before he would follow them, and I
suspect he compromised matters then only because
he did not want to be left behind.
The “intelligence of the crow” has become a
12 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
platitude, but when we hear of his cracking clams
by dropping them on a fence, coming to roost with
the hens in cold weather, and — in the ease of a
tame crow —opening a door by lighting on the
latch, his originality is a surprise. A family near
here had much merriment over the gambols of a
pet crow named Jim. Whenever he saw the gar-
dener passing to and fro between the house and
garden, he would fly down from the trees, light on
his hat, and ride back and forth. He liked to
pick the bright blossoms, particularly pansies and
scarlet geraniums, and would not only steal bright
colored worsteds and ribbons, but tear all the yel-
low covers from any novels he came across. When
any one went to the vegetable garden he showed
the most commendable eagerness to help with the
work, being anxious to pick whatever was wanted
—from raspberries and currants to the little cu-
cumbers gathered for pickling.
The sight of the big black puppy waddling
along wagging high in air a long black tail in-
congruously finished off with a tipping of white
hairs was too much for Jim’s sobriety. Down he
would dive, give a nip at the hairs, and be gravely
seated on a branch just out of reach by the time
Bruno had turned to snap at him. Let the puppy
move on a step, and down the mischief would come
again, and so the two would play — sometimes for
more than half an hour at atime. Then again,
the joke would take a more practical turn, for, in-
THE CROW. 13
stead of flying overhead when Bruno looked back,
Jim would steal the bone the puppy had been
gnawing.
The crow was happy as long as any one would
play with him, and never tired of flying low over
the ground with a string dangling from his bill for
the children to run after. Another favorite play
was to hold on to a string or small stick with his
bill while some one lifted him up by it, as a baby
is tossed by its arms. He would even hold on and
let you “ swing him around your head.” He was
never daunted, and when the toddling two-year.
old would get too rough in her play and strike at
him with her stick, he would either catch the hem
of her pinafore and hold on till she ran away, or
would try scaring her, rushing at her — his big
black wings spread out and his bill wide open.
One day his pluck was thoroughly tested.
Hearing loud caws of distress coming from the
lawn, the gardener rushed across and found Jim
lying on his back, his claw tightly gripping the
end of one of the wings of a large hawk, that,
surprised and terrified by this turn of the tables
was struggling frantically to get away. Jim held
him as tight as a vise, and only loosened his grasp
to give his enemy into the gardener’s hands. After
letting go he submitted to the victor’s reward, let-
ting his wounds be examined and his bravery ex-
tolled while he was carried about — wearing a
most consciously heroic air, it must be confessed
— for due celebration of the victory.
14 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
1B EB
THE BLUEBIRD.
As you stroll through the meadows on a May
morning, drinking in the spring air and sunshine,
and delighting in the color of the dandelions and
the big bunches of blue violets that dot the grass,
a bird call comes quavering overhead that seems
the voice of all country loveliness. Simple, sweet,
and fresh as the spirit of the meadows, with a
tinge of forest richness in the plaintive tru-al-ly
that marks the rhythm of our bluebird’s undulat-
ing flight, wherever the song is heard, from city
street or bird-box, it must bring pictures of flower-
ing fields, blue skies, and the freedom of the
wandering summer winds.
Look at the bluebird now as he goes over your
head — note the cinnamon of his breast; and as
he flies down and turns quickly to light on the
fence post, see the cobalt-blue that flashes from
his back. These colors are the poet’s signs that
the bird’s sponsors are the “ earth and sky.” And
the little creature has a wavering way of lifting
its wings when perching, as if hesitating between
earth and sky, that may well carry out the poet’s
hint of his wild ethereal spirit.
Notice the bluebird’s place in literature. The
robin, with his cheerful soprano call, serves as the
emblem of domestic peace and homely cheer; but
THE BLUEBIRD. 15
the bluebird, with his plaintive contralto warble,
stirs the imagination, and is used as the poetic
symbol of spring. The temper of the bluebird
makes him a fit subject for the poet’s encomiums.
Mr. Burroughs goes so far as to say that “the
expression of his indignation is nearly as musical
as his song.”
Lowell speaks of the bluebird as
‘* shifting his light load of song
From post to post along the cheerless fence.”’
But although he is as restless and preoccupied
here as elsewhere, lifting his wings tremulously as
if in reality “shifting his load of song,” and long-
ing to fly away, the bluebird sometimes comes
down to the prose of life even here and actually
hides his nest in the hole of a fence rail. When
this is not his fancy he fits up an old woodpecker’s
hole in a post, stub, or tree; or, if more social in
his habits, builds in knot-holes in the sides of
barns, or in bird-boxes arranged for his use. At
Northampton I was shown a nest in an old stub
by the side of the road, so shallow that the father
and mother birds fed their young from the out-
side, clinging to the sides of the hole and reaching
in to drop the food into the open mouths below.
Although the bluebird has such a model temper,
it has not always a clear idea of the laws of meum
and tuum, as was shown by a nest found directly
on top of a poor swallow’s nest where there lay
four fresh eggs! The nest is usually lined with
16 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
dry grasses and similar materials. The eggs,
from four to seven in number, are generally plain
pale greenish blue, but occasionally white.
Sitting on a fence at a little distance the young
birds look almost black, but as they fly off you
catch a tinge of blue on their wings and tails.
Their mother is more like her husband, but, as
with most lady birds, her tints are subdued —
doubtless the result of “adaptation,” as bright
colors on the back of the brooding mother would
attract danger.
We have two reasons for gratitude to the blue-
bird. It comes home early in the spring, and is
among the last to leave in the fall, its sweet note
trembling on the air when the “ bare branches of
the trees are rattling in the wind.”
IV.
CHIMNEY SWIFT; CHIMNEY “SWALLOW.”
WartcH a chimney swift as he comes near you,
rowing through the air first with one wing and
then the other, or else cruising along with sails
set. Look at him carefully and you will see that
he is not a swallow, although he often goes by
that name. He looks much more like a bat. His
outlines are so clear cut and angular that he could
be reduced, roughly, to two triangles, their com-
mon base cutting his body vertically in halves.
ae
CHIMNEY SWIFT. 17
His tail is, of itself, an acute-angled triangle ter-
IMinating merely in bristles; and his wings look
as if made of skin stretched on a frame, bat
fashion, instead of being of feathers.
He twitters in a sharp chippering way as he
flutters through the air and picks up flies, saying,
as Mr. Burroughs puts it, “ chippy-chippy-chirio,
not a man in Dario can catch a chippy-chippy-
chirio.” And you are inclined to believe the
boast — such zigzag darting, such circling and
running! The men of Dario would need seven
league wings to keep up with him, and then, after
a lightning race, when just ready to throw their
pinch of salt, with a sudden wheel the chippy-
chirio would dart down a chimney and disappear
from sight.
And what a noise these swifts do make in the
chimneys! If you ever had a room beside one of
their lodging-houses you can testify to their “ noc-
turnal habits during the nesting season.” Such
chattering and jabbering, such rushing in and
scrambling out! If you only could get your spy-
glass inside the chimney! Their curious little
nests are glued against the sides like tiny wall
pockets; and there the swifts roost, or rather
hang, clinging to the wall, side by side, like little
sooty bats. Audubon says that before the young
birds are strong enough to fly they clamber up
to the mouths of the chimneys as the pitifully tri-
umphant chimney-sweeps used to come up for a
18 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
breath and wave their brooms in the air at their
escape from the dangers below. Though never
venturing near us the swifts come to live inside
our houses. Like the robin they are citizens, but
what a contrast !
Their feet are weak from disuse, and it is be-
lieved that they never light anywhere except in a
chimney or in a hollow tree, where they sometimes
go at night and in bad weather. They gather the
twigs they glue together for their nests while on
the wing, and their ingenuity in doing it shows
how averse they are to lighting. Audubon says:
“The chimney swallows are seen in great numbers
whirling around the tops of some decayed or dead
tree, as if in pursuit of their insect prey. Their
movements at this time are exceedingly rapid;
they throw their body suddenly against the twig,
grapple it with their feet, and by an instantaneous
jerk snap it off short, and proceed with it to the
place intended for the nest.”
WV:
CATBIRD.
Hiaeu trees have an unsocial aspect, and so, as —
Lowell says, “The catbird croons in the lilac-
bush,” in the alders, in a prickly ash copse, a bar-
berry-bush, or by the side of the garden. In
Northampton one of his favorite haunts is an old
CATBIRD. 19
orchard that slopes down to the edge of Mill
River. Here he is welcomed every year by his
college girl friends; and in the open seclusion of
an apple-tree proceeds to build his nest and raise
his little family, singing through it all with keen
enjoyment of the warm sunshine and his own com-
pany.
To the tyro the catbird is at once the most in-
teresting and most exasperating of birds. Like
some people, he seems to give up his time to the
pleasure of hearing himself talk. A first cousin
of the mocking-bird — whom he resembles in per-
son much more than in voice — perhaps the re-
lationship accounts for his overweening confidence
in his vocal powers. As a matter of fact his jerky
utterance is so harsh that it has been aptly termed
asthmatic.
The catbird is unmistakably a Bohemian. He
is exquisitely formed, and has a beautiful slate-
gray coat, set off by his black head and tail. By
nature he is peculiarly graceful, and when he
chooses can pass for the most polished of the
Philistine aristocracy. But he cares nothing for
all this. With lazy self-indulgence he sits by the
hour with relaxed muscles, and listlessly drooping
wings and tail. If he were a man you feel con-
fident that he would sit in shirt sleeves at home
and go on the street without a collar.
And his occupation? His cousin is an artist,
but he —is he a wag as well as a caricaturist, or
20 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
is he in sober earnest when he tries to mimic the
inimitable Wilson’s thrush? If a wag he is a
success, for he deceives the unguarded into believ-
ing him a robin, a cat, and — “a bird new to
science!” How he must chuckle over the enthu-
siasm which hails his various notes and the bewil-
derment and chagrin that come to the diligent
observer who finally catches a glimpse of the gar-
rulous mimic !
The catbird builds his nest as he does every-
thing else. The loose mass of coarse twigs patched
up with pieces of newspaper or anything he hap-
pens to fancy, looks as if it would hardly bear his
weight. He lines it, however, with fine bits of
brown and black roots, and when the beautiful
dark green eggs are laid in it, you feel sure that
such an artistic looking bird must enjoy the con-
trasting colors.
Mi
KEEL-TAILED BLACKBIRD; CROW BLACKBIRD;
BRONZED GRACKLE.
LowWELL gives this bird the first place in the
calendar. He says : —
“Fust come the blackbirds clatt’rin’ in tall trees,
And settlin’ things in windy Congresses, —
Queer politicians, though, for Ill be skinned
If all on ’em don’t head against the wind.’’
In spite of all that may be brought up in Grand
CROW BLACKBIRD. 21
Jury against these “queer politicians,’ who is
there that could not confess to a thrill of pleasure
when they appear about the house “ clatt’rin’ in
tall trees”?
As Mr. Burroughs has it: “The air is filled
with cracking, splintering, spurting, semi-musical
sounds, which are like pepper and salt to the ear.”
There is a delicious reality to their notes. We
feel now that spring is not a myth of the poets,
after all, but that she has sent this black advance
guard as a promise of wild flowers and May-day.
Black, did I say? Nothing could be more mis-
leading. Mr. Ridgway describes the body of the
purple grackle as “ brassy olive or bronze,” his
neck as “ steel-blue, violet, purple, or brassy
ereen,’ and his wings and tail as “ purplish or
violet-purplish.” He is one of the most brilliant
of our bird beauties. Watch him as he ambles
over the branches, and when the sunlight strikes
him you will wonder who could have been so blind
as to dub him blackbird. Call him, rather, the
black opal !
He is a bird of many accomplishments. To
begin with, he does not condescend to hop, like
ordinary birds, but imitates the crow in his stately
walk ; then he has a steering apparatus that the
small boy might well study in coasting time. He
ean turn his tail into a rudder. Watch him as
he flies. While he is going straight ahead you
do not notice anything unusual, but as soon as he
22 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
turns or wants to alight you see his tail change
from the horizontal to the vertical— into a rud-
der. He is called keel-tailed on account of it.
Moreover, he can pick beechnuts, catch cray-
fish without getting nipped, and fish for minnows
alongside of any ten-year-old. Last October I
found him beech-nutting, but he made hard work
of it. I suspect the cold snap — for there was
snow on the ground — had stiffened his toes so
that he was more awkward than usual. Poor fel-
low, I felt sorry for him, it entailed such danger-
ous gymnastics! But it was amusing to see him
walk over the branches, stretch his neck to the
point of dislocation, and then make such a deter-
mined dive after the nut that he nearly lost his
balance, and could only save himself by a desper-
ate jerk of the tail. Even when he picked out a
nut he had to put it under his claw and drill
through the shell, pick-axe style, before he could
get a morsel to eat. He evidently thought it
rather serious sport, and flew down for some shriv-
eled crab-apples as a second course. But an army
of robins had possession of the apple-tree and
two of them were detailed to drive him off, so he
had to finish his breakfast up in the cold beech
top.
A long list of nesting sites might be given, in-
cluding martin-houses, poplars, evergreens, holes
in stubs, the sides of fish hawk’s nests, and
church spires where the blackbirds’ “clatt’rin’”’ is
CROW BLACKBIRD. 23
drowned by the tolling bells. Instances of their
quarrels with robins and other birds would fill a
volume, but the most interesting feud of which
I have heard was enacted in the garden of the
keen observer and botanist, Mrs. Helen M. Bagg,
and its progress was watched by her unnoticed,
as she looked out upon the participants from
among the flowering shrubs and vines that sur-
round her cottage. I quote her racy descrip-
tion : —
“ Karly one May two robins, with many mani-
festations of happiness, set up house-keeping in a
tree near the south end of my house. .@.48
KINGBIRD ; BEE MARTIN.
THE kingbird is noticeably smaller than the
robin, but is larger and more compactly built than
most of the flycatchers. The sobriety of his plain
blackish coat and white vest are relieved by a
colored patch that may sometimes be espied under
84 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
his crest, and also by a white tip to his tail, which,
when spread in flight, has the effect of a white
crescent. He has a peculiar flight, holding his
head up and using his wings in a labored way as
it he were swimming. When looking for his din-
ner he often flutters obliquely into the air, display-
ing his shining white breast and fan-shaped tail
to the best advantage.
All the disagreeable qualities of the flycatchers
seem to centre in this bird. His note is a harsh,
scolding twitter. His crown proclaims him king,
not by right, but by might, — such a bickering
pugilist, such a domineering autocrat he is. The
crow’s life becomes a plague when this tormentor
gives chase ; and the smaller birds find themselves
driven at the point of the bill from the fences they
had considered public highways.
But whatever may be the exact limit of his
quarrelsomeness it stops short at home; old king-
birds are certainly tender guardians of their
young. I once watched a pair in search of food.
They flew down to the haycocks in the meadow
near the orchard, sat there reconnoitring for a
moment, and then jumped into the grass to snap
up the insect they had discovered. lying back
to the young they flirted their wings and tails as
they dropped the morsel into the gaping red
throats, and in an instant were off again for a
hunt in the air, or in another tree. And so they
kept hard at work, looking everywhere till the
WOOD PEWEE. 85
voracious appetites of their infants were satisfied.
DeKay says of the kingbird’s diet: “ He feeds
on berries and seeds, beetles, canker-worms, and
insects of every description. By this, and by his
inveterate hostility to rapacious birds, he more
than compensates for the few domestic bees with
which he varies his repast.” To this DeKay adds
the interesting statement: “ Like the hawks and
owls, he ejects from his mouth, in the shape of
large pellets, all the indigestible parts of insects
and berries.”
XXII.
WOOD PEWEE.
IN size, coloring, and habit you will hardly dis-
tinguish the wood pewee from the pheebe, al-
though the former is somewhat smaller. These
two birds stand apart from all the others we have
had. The chimney swift and barn swallow also
live on insects, but measure the difference in their
methods of hunting. The swift zigzags through
the air, picking up his dinner as he goes; the
swallow skims the rivers, and circles over the
meadows and through the sky, without so much
as an ungraceful turn of the wing to suggest that
he is dining. But the phcebe and the wood pe-
wee lie in wait for their victims. They cunningly
assume indifference until the unwary gauzy-wing
floats within range, then spring on it, snap it up,
and fall back to wait for another unfortunate.
86 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
And when not hunting, how silent and motion-
less they sit, the phoebe on the ridgepole of a
barn, the wood pewee on a twig in the flickering
sunlight and shade of the green woods ; neither
of them uttering more than an occasional note,
and scarcely stirring unless to look over their
shoulders.
Though the phcebe and wood pewee look so
much alike, in reality they are as much at odds
as a farmer and a poet. Unlike the nest of the
phoebe, the wood pewee’s is essentially woodsy
and distinctive. It is an exquisite little structure,
saddled on to a lichen-covered limb. Made of fine
roots and delicate stems of grass and seed pods,
it is covered with bits of lichen or moss glued on
with saliva, so that like the humming-bird’s nest it
seems to bea knob on the branch. It is a shallow
little nest, and the four richly crowned creamy
egos, though tiny enough in themselves, leave
little room for the body of the brooding mother.
In temper the phebe is so prosaic that we nat-
urally connect it with the beams of barns and
cow sheds ; while the wood pewee, associated with
the cool depths of the forest, is fitted to mspire
poets, and to stir the deepest chords of human
nature with its plaintive, far-reaching voice.
It has moods for all of ours. Its faint, lisping
io
pe-ee
ii a i i
LEAST FLYCATCHER. 87
suggests all the happiness of domestic love and
peace. At one moment its minor
ror
come to me
with the liquidity of a‘ U” of sound d 4
is fraught with all the pathos and yearning of a
desolated human heart. At another, its tender,
motherly el
alae
dear-ie dear-ie dear
with which it lulls its little ones, is as soothing
to the perplexed and burdened soul as the soft
breathing of the wind through the pine needles,
or the caressing ripple of the sunset-gilded waves
of a mountain lake.
AE,
LEAST FLYCATCHER.
Ir you have been in the country, or even in
one of our smaller towns during the spring and
summer, you may have noticed the reiteration of
an abrupt call of two notes — che-beck! che-beck!
coming from the apple-trees and undergrowth. If
you have traced it you have discovered a small
gray bird, in coat and habit a miniature of the
pheebe and wood pewee, jerking not only his tail
but his whole body with his emphatic call.
This small bird seems a piquant satire on the
88 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
days of tournament and joust, when knights
started out with leveled lances to give battle to
every one they met. He is a fearless little war-
rior, snapping his bill ominously as he charges,
full tilt, at his enemy.
Last summer on passing a thicket I heard this
snapping, together with loud calls of che-beck’,
and stopped to see what was happening. There,
in a low willow, I found a family of young sun-
ning themselves while their mother brought them
their dinner. It seemed a most peaceable scene,
but a picket fence ran along just back of the wil-
low, and I soon discovered that this was the tilt
yard. Whenever a song sparrow or pewee hap-
pened to light there and stretch its wings fora
sun bath, the fierce little mother would suddenly
appear, dart at the unoffending bird, and fairly
throw him off the fence with her abrupt onset.
After unseating her enemy she would fly off as
fast as she had come, career about in the air till
she had snapped up a fly or miller, dart back,
thrust it into one of the open mouths with a jab
that threatened to decapitate the little one, and
seemed to mean, “ There, take it quick if you ’ve
got to have it,” and with a flirt of the tail and
wings, before I had time for a second look, would
be off in hot pursuit of another insect.
I wanted to see if she would be afraid of me,
and so crept up by the fence, almost under the
baby birds. Two of them sat there side by side,
le
RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD. 89
in the most affectionate manner, nestling down on
the branch with their soft white feathers fluffed
out prettily. They did not mind me, and closed
their eyes as if the warm sunlight made them
sleepy. All of a sudden their mother flew up to
one of them with a fly, but was so startled on see-
ing me that instead of giving it to him she sprang
up on top of his head and was off like a flash,
~ almost tumbling him off the branch, and leaving
him very much scared and bewildered. As soon
as her nerves recovered from the shock she came
back again and went on with her work as if I had
not been there. The father seemed to be as rest-
less and pugnacious as the mother, and, if appear-
ances were to be trusted, was quarreling with his
neighbors in a tree near by, while his wife guarded
the picket and fed her young.
XXYV.
RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD.
THE large flocks of blackbirds seen coming
north in the spring are confusing at first, but by
careful observation you will soon be able to dis-
criminate between them. Sometimes the crow
blackbird and the red-wing fly together, but they
more commonly go in separate flocks. At a dis-
tance, the flight of the two is perhaps the most
distinctive feature — the “ keel-tail” steering ap-
90 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
paratus of the crow blackbird marking him any-
where. Then, though they both belong in the
same pigeon-hole, the keel-tailed is a half larger,
and the red-wing a trifle smaller than the robin.
Known more familiarly, the red-wing lacks the
noisy obtrusiveness of his awkward cousin, and
usually prefers the field to the dooryard.
Though as I write the roads are being broken
through the drifted snow by plough and kettle, as
I turn over the crumpled leaves of the small note-
book I have carried on so many tramps, the first
faint, penciled notes I find on the red-wing take
me back into May, and, in fancy, we are again
starting down the hill to the swampy meadows
where
‘* The red-wing flutes his o-ka-lee.’’
Did you ever see a meadow full of cowslips ?
Here is the true field of the cloth of gold. It
looks as if father Sun had crumbled up sunbeams
and seattered the bits over the meadow! As you
sink into the soft wet ground, every few steps
bring you to a luxuriant clump of the tender
ereen plants lit up by flower cups of glistening
gold. Each bunch seems more beautiful than the
last, and, like a child, I would carry the whole
field full of flowers home in my arms! This sun-
garden is the red-wing’s playground. As we stroll
along, he flies over our heads calling out o-ka-lee,
and then, with outstretched wings, soars slowly
down to the ground, where he sits and wags his
tail as fast as a catbird.
LLL —— CO
RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD. 91
As Thoreau says, his red wing marks him as
effectually as a soldier’s epaulets. This scarlet
shoulder cap is so striking against the bird’s black
coat that the careless observer does not notice its
border of brownish yellow, even when it shades
into white, as it does in some of the western
species. With Madam Blackbird the contrast is
not so great, for she is not as pure black as her
husband, having brownish streaks that, even at a
distance, give her a duller look; and then her
epaulets are more salmon than scarlet. Still the
effect is pleasing, and it is only a matter of taste
if we do not admire her as much as her spouse.
I was unable to go to the meadows during the
nesting season, and the next notes I find in my
book were taken in the middle of June. Then
the young were hidden in the grass, and the old
birds followed us from spot to spot, screaming
loudly as they circled near us, or hovered low over
our heads. Perhaps their cries were to warn
their children, for, although there were three of
us, and we examined carefully all the places where
they showed the most concern, we succeeded in
scaring up only one rusty-coated youngster.
Two weeks later, in the warm days of July,
the red-wing’s seemed to have left the meadows for
the trees that skirted the alder swamp, and fam-
ilies of old and young were sitting with their
cousin grackles in the willows and on the rail
fence, while some flew up as I walked through an
92 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
opening in the swamp where the cat-tails stood
guard, and the long-banded rushes soughed like
wind in a forest.
XXXVI.
HAIRY WOODPECKER.
THE habits of the woodpecker family are more
distinctive, perhaps, than those of any group of
the birds we have been considering, and the most
superficial observer cannot fail to recognize its
members.
Woodpeckers — the very name proclaims them
unique. The robin drags his fish-worm from its
hiding place in the sod, and carols his happiness
to every sunrise and sunset; the sparrow eats
crumbs in the dooryard and builds his nest in a
sweetbriar ; the thrushes turn over the brown
leaves for food and chant their matins among the
moss and ferns of the shadowy forest; the gold-
finch balances himself on the pink thistle or yel-
low mullein top, while he makes them “ pay toll”
for his visit, and then saunters through the air in
the abandonment of blue skies and sunshine ; the
red-wing flutes his o-ka-lee over cat-tails and cow-
slips; the bobolink, forgetting everything else,
rollicks amid buttereups and daisies; but the
woodpecker finds his larder under the hard bark
of the trees, and, oblivious to sunrise and sunset,
HAIRY WOODPECKER. 93
flowering marsh and laughing meadow, clings
close to the side of a stub, as if the very sun him-
self moved around a tree trunk!
But who knows how much these grave mono-
maniacs have discovered that lies a sealed book
to all the world besides? Why should we scorn
them ? They are philosophers! They have the se-
cret of happiness. Any bird could be joyous with
plenty of blue sky and sunshine, and the poets,
from Chaucer to Wordsworth, have relaxed their
brows at the sight of a daisy; but what does the
happy goldfinch know of the wonders of tree
trunks, and what poet could find inspiration in a
dead stub on a bleak November day ? Jack Frost
sends both thrush and goldfinch flying south, and
94 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
the poets shut their study doors in his face, draw-
ing their arm-chairs up to the hearth while they
ral at November. But the wise woodpecker
clings to the side of a tree and fluffing his feathers
about his toes makes the woods reverberate with
his cheery song, — for it is a song, and bears an
important part In nature’s orchestra. Its rhyth-
mical rat tap, tap, tap, tap, not only beats time
for the chickadees and nuthatches, but is a reveille
that sets all the brave winter blood tingling in our
velns.
There the hardy drummer stands beating on
the wood with all the enjoyment of a drum major.
How handsome he looks with the scarlet cap on
the back of his head, and what a fine show the
white central stripe makes against the glossy
black of his back !
Who can say how much he has learned from
the wood spirits? What does he care for rain or
blinding storm? He can never lose his way. No
woodsman need tell him how the hemlock branches
tip, or how to use a lichen compass.
Do you say the birds are gone, the leaves have
fallen, the bare branches rattle, rains have black-
ened the tree trunks? What does he care? All
this makes him rejoice! The merry chickadee
hears his shrill call above the moaning of the
wind and the rattling of the branches, for our
alchemist is turning to his lichen workshop.
The sealed book whose pictures are seen only
HAIRY WOODPECKER. 95
by children and wood fairies opens at his touch.
The black unshaded tree trunks turn into en-
chanted lichen palaces, rich with green and gold
of every tint. The “pert fairies and the dapper
elves ” have left their magic circles in the grass,
and trip lightly around the soft green velvet moss
mounds so well suited for the throne of their
queen. Here they find the tiny moss spears Lowell
christened, ‘“ Arthurian lances,” and quickly arm
themselves for deeds of fairy valor. Here, too, are
dainty silver goblets from which they can quaff
the crystal globes that drop one by one from the
dark moss high on the trees after rain. And
there — what wonders in fern tracery, silver fili-
gree and coral for the fairy Guinevere!
But hark! the children are coming — and off
the grave magician flies to watch their play from
behind a neighboring tree trunk. There they
come, straight to his workshop, and laugh in glee
at the white chips he has scattered on the ground.
They are in league with the fairies, too, and
cast magic spells over all they see. First they spy
the upturned roots of a fallen tree. It is a moun-
tain! And up they clamber, to overlook their
little world. And that pool left by the fall rains.
Ha! It isalake! And away they go, to cross
it bravely on a bridge of quaking moss.
As they pass under the shadow of a giant hem-
lock and pick up the cones for playthings, they
catch sight of the pile of dark red sawdust at the
96 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
foot of the tree and stand open-mouthed while the
oldest child tells of a long ant procession she saw
there when each tiny worker came to the door to
drop its borings from its jaws. How big their
eyes get at the story! If the woodpecker could
only give his cousin the yellow hammer’s tragic
sequel to it! -
But soon they have found a new delight. A
stem of basswood seeds whirls through the air to
their feet. They all scramble for it. What a
pity they have no string! The last stem they
found was a kite and a spinning air-top for a day’s
play. But this — never mind — there it goes up
in the air dancing and whirling like a gay young
fairy treading the mazes with the wind.
“‘ Just see this piece of moss! How pretty!”
And so they go through the woods, till the brown
beech leaves shake with their laughter, and the
gray squirrels look out of their oriel tree trunk
windows to see who goes by, and the absorbed
magician — who can tell how much fun he steals
from his lofty observation post to make him con-
tent with his stub !
Why should he fly south when every day brings
him some secret of the woods, or some scene like
this that his philosopher’s stone can turn to happi-
ness ? Let us proclaim him the sage of the birds?
If he could speak! The children would gather
about him for tales of the woodsprites ; the stu-
dent of trees would learn facts and figures enough
HAIRY WOODPECKER. 97
to store a book; and the mechanic! Just watch
the dexterous bird as he works !
A master of his trade, he has various methods.
One day in September he flew past me with a
loud scream, and when I came up to him was
hard at excavating. His claws were fast in the
bark on the edge of the hole, and he seemed to be
half clinging to it, half lying against it. His stiff
tail quills helped to brace him against the tree,
and he drilled straight down, making the bark fly
with his rapid strokes. When the hole did not
clear itself with his blows, he would give a quick
scrape with his bill and drill away again. Sud-
denly he stopped, picked up something, and flew
up on a branch with it. He had found what he
was after. And what a relish it proved! I could
almost see him holding it on his tongue.
Another day in November he had to work
harder for his breakfast, and perhaps it was for-
tunate. The night before there had been a sharp
snowstorm from the north, so that in passing
through the woods all the trees and undergrowth
on the south of me were pure white, while on the
opposite side the gray trees with all their confu-
sion of branches, twigs, and noble trunks stood out
in bold relief. The snow that had fallen made it
rather cold standing still, and I would have been
glad to do part of Mr. Hairy’s work myself. But
he needed no help. He marched up the side of
the stub, tapping as he went, and when his bill
98 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
gave back the sound for which he had been listen-
ing, he began work without ado. This bark must
have been harder or thicker than the other, for
instead of boring straight through, he loosened it
by drilling, first from one side and then from the
other. When he could not get it off in this way,
he went above, and below, to try to start it, so
that, before he found his worm he had stripped
off pieces of bark several inches long and fully
two across. He was so much engrossed that I
came to the very foot of the stub without disturb-
ing him.
Indeed, woodpeckers are not at all shy here
but work as unconcernedly by the side of the
house as anywhere else. Once I was attracted by
the cries of a hairy, and creeping up discovered a
mother feeding her half-grown baby. She flew
off when she saw me, probably warning’ the little
fellow to keep still, for he stayed where she left
him for five or ten minutes as if pinioned to the
branch, crouching close, and hardly daring to stir
even his head. Then, as she did not come back,
and he saw no reason to be afraid of me, he flew
off independently to another limb, and marched
up the side arching his neck and bowing his head
as much as to say, “ Just see how well I walk!”
DOWNY WOODPECKER. 99
XXVITI.
DOWNY WOODPECKER.
THE downy looks so much like the hairy that it
would be easy to confound them if it were not for
the difference in size. The downy is fully two
inches shorter than the hairy. As you see him
on a tree at a distance, the white stripe on his
back is bounded by black, or as Thoreau expresses
it, ‘his cassock is open behind, showing his white
robe.” Above this stripe is a large check of black
and white, and below on a line with the tips of
his wings seems to be a fine black and white
check, while, if he is an adult male, a scarlet
patch on the back of his head sets off his black
and white dress.
Seen only a rod away, as I see him through the
window in winter, clinging to a tree, and picking
at the suet hung out for him, the white central
stripe of his back is marked off above by a black
line which goes across to meet the black of his
shoulders. From the middle of this and at right
angle to it, another black line goes straight up
towards his head, so carrying on the line of the
white stripe, and forming the dividing line of the
two white blocks. This, again, meets the point
of a black V, so broad as to be almost a straight
line. On this V lies the red patch of the back
of his head. Over his eye is a white line that ex-
100 BIRDS THROUGH AN OPERA-GLASS.
tends back to meet the red patch. What ata
distance looked like fine checking at the base of
his wings proves to be white lining across the
black.
The downy comes about us here with the same
familiarity as the hairy, and it was only a few
weeks ago that the cook brought me one she
found imprisoned between the sashes of her win-
dow. He was scared, poor little fellow, and wrig-
gled excitedly, trying to force my hand open.
When I had taken a look at his pretty brown
eyes I carried him to the front door, and off he
flew to the nearest tree where he began pecking
at the bark as if nothing had happened.
DOVER
WHITE-BELLIED NUTHATCH ; DEVIL-DOWN HEAD.
CROSSBILLS, snow buntings, blue jays, pine
finches, pine grosbeaks, goldfinches, and some-
times other birds visit us here at irregular inter-
vals during the winter, but there are four little
friends that never desert us, no matter how long
the winter lasts. They form a novel quartette,
for the chickadee whistles the air, the nuthatch
sings his meagre alto through his nose, and the
two woodpeckers —the hairy and downy — beat
their drums as if determined to drown the other
parts. But they are a merry band, with all their
I
WHITE-BELLIED NUTHATCH. 101
oddities, and wander about giving concerts wher-
ever they go, till the woods are alive again, and
we forget that we have ever missed the summer
birds.
When the drums get too much absorbed in
their tree trunks, the alto and air go serenading
by themselves, and who knows what gossip they
indulge in about the grave magicians’ day dreams,
or how gayly they swear to stand by each other
and never be put down by these drums! They
are old chums, and work together as happily as
Mr. and Mrs. Spratt, the chickadee whistling his
merry chick-a-dee-dee, dee, dee as he clings to a
twig in the tree top, and the nuthatch answering
back with-a jolly little yank, yank, yank, as he
hangs, head down, on the side of a tree trunk.
What a comic figure he makes there !
Trying to get a view of you, he throws his head
back and stretches himself away from the tree till
you wonder he does not fall off. His black cap
and slate-blue coat are almost hidden, he raises
his white throat and breast up so high.
“ Devil-down-head ” he is called from this habit
of walking down the trees, since instead of walk-
ing straight down backwards, as the woodpeck-
ers do, he prefers to obey the old adage and
“follow his nose.” .
n XIGNUddV
207
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208 APPENDIX.
GENERAL FAMILY CHARACTERISTICS OF BIRDS
TREATED.
CUCKOOS.
Long slender birds whose breasts are whitish and backs
brown, with a faint bronze lustre. Bill, long and curved.
Call, loud and prolonged. Song, wanting. Habits, eccen-
tric —strange silent birds, living in undergrowth or low
trees.
KINGFISHERS.
Large top-heavy birds with long crests, slate-blue backs,
and white breasts. Bill, very large and strong for holding
fish, Flight, rapid and prolonged. Song, a loud hurried
trill. Fishermen by occupation, they live about rivers and
lakes, excavating nests in the banks.
WOODPECKERS.
Plumage, largely black and white. Bill, strong and long
for drilling through bark and wood. Flight, noisy, flicker-
ing. Call, loud and shrill. Song, wanting, except as they
drum on trees, ete. Habits, phlegmatic, most of time spent
clinging, erect, to sides of tree trunks. (Exception, yellow
hammer : plumage, brownish, instead of black and white ;
song, a loud full trill ; habits, more like ground woodpeck-
ers ; haunts ant-hills, fields, and fence-posts, etc.)
GOATSUCKERS.
Mottled brownish and grayish birds, with tiny bills and
enormous mouths for catching insects on the wing. Nest,
wanting — eggs laid on bare ground or leaves.
SWIFTS.
Sooty or blackish birds that live on the wing, never
lighting except in chimneys, towers, or hollow trees where
APPENDIX. 209
they roost and nest. Bills small, mouths large, as in the
goatsuckers.
HUMMING-BIRDS.
Diminutive birds whose plumage shows brilliant metallic
lustre. Bills, slender and elongated for reaching insects
and nectar at bottom of flower tubes. Flight, rapid, darting.
FLYCATCHERS.
' Dull, gray birds with big heads and shoulders. Males
and females similar in plumage. Bills, hooked at end.
Songless or with short song (wood pewee, three notes),
Habits, hunt by lying in wait for insects and then spring-
ing at them with nervous spasmodic movements. (Excep-
tion, kingbird.) Largely silent and motionless when not
watching for food.
CROWS AND JAYS.
Large conspicuous birds, with strong bill and claws.
Songless but clamorous. Active and boisterous — espe-
cially the blue jay.
BLACKBIRDS AND ORIOLES.
Plumage, striking, black prominent. (Exception, meadow-
lark.) Females generally duller, and in some cases smaller
than males. Bills and claws, strong ; bills, long and conical.
(Exceptions, bobolink and cowbird, whose bills are short
and conical.)
SPARROWS AND FINCHES.
Fine songsters. Bills, short, stout, cone-shaped, for crack-
ing seeds.
Sparrows. — Comparatively small, dull-plumaged birds,
with striped backs ; much the color of the ground and
bushes on which they live — males and females similar.
Finches. — Bright-plumaged birds, females duller than
males.
210 APPENDIX.
TANAGERS.
Shy, brilliantly-colored birds, with dull-plumaged wives.
They build low, but hunt for worms and sing their loud
swinging song mostly in the cover of tree tops.
SWALLOWS.
Small-billed, big-mouthed insect eaters. Not songless,
yet without musical power. When not flying they often
perch on telegraph wires and the ridge-poles of barns.
WAXWINGS.
Elegant, delicately-tinted birds. Usually silent and re-
tiring. They practise among themselves amazing courtesy
and gentleness.
VIREOS.
Small olive-green or gray-backed, white-breasted birds ;
much the color of the lights and leaf tints they live among.
Bills, long and slender for holding worms. Songs, loud and
continuous, from their tree-top covers. Nests pensile and
delicate.
WARBLERS.
Plumage, mostly variegated and brilliant. Females gen-
erally duller than males. Song, in many cases only a trill.
Food, insects. Habits, nervous, restless.
WRENS AND THRASHERS.
Small and large birds that sing their brilliant songs se-
cure in the protection of their inconspicuous brown or gray
dress and the dense thickets or forest undergrowth they
frequent. As they spend little time in flight their wings
are short, but the long tails of the thrashers are of great use
in helping them along from bush to bush.
CREEPERS.
Small obscure brown birds that spend their time creep-
APPENDIX. Jit
ing up and down tree trunks, from which they get their liv-
ing and in which they nest. Bill long, slender and curved.
Tails stiff and bristly for bracing them as they work —like
the woodpeckers’.
NUTHATCHES AND TITS.
Small tree birds usually found together in flocks except
when breeding.
Nuthatches. — Slate-blue-backed birds that walk sedately
up and down tree trunks, and run along branches upside
down, like flies.
Chickadees. — Fluffy grayish birds that flit among tree
tops.
KINGLETS.
Small fluffy greenish birds that flit about the leaves of
shrubbery and trees after insects. Songs remarkable.
THRUSHES
Brown-backed, white-breasted birds, size of robin, or
smaller. Bills, long and slender, fitted for worm diet.
Habits, phlegmatic ; pensive birds, fond of sitting motion-
less. Finest of American songsters.
ARBITRARY CLASSIFICATIONS OF BIRDS DE-
SCRIBED.
I. Brrps FOUND IN CERTAIN LOCALITIES.
1. About or near houses. — Robin, chipping sparrow, song
sparrow, junco, chimney swift, crow blackbird, warbling vi-
reo, yellow-bellied woodpecker, tree sparrow, brown creeper,
oriole, pheebe, purple finch, chickadee, catbird, red-eyed vi-
reo, nuthatch, humming-bird, barn swallow.
2. In gardens and orchards. — Catbird, bluebird, wax-
wing, cuckoo, oriole, kingbird, kinglets, humming-bird,
warbling vireo, yellow-throated vireo, yellow-bellied wood-
212 APPENDIX.
pecker, purple finch, goldfinch, summer yellow-bird, war-
blers, cowbird, least flycatcher, yellow hammer.
3. In fields and meadows. — Meadow-lark, cowbird, night-
hawk, crow, bank swallow, barn swallow, cliff swallow, ves-
per sparrow, field sparrow, bobolink, red-winged blackbird,
snowflake, song sparrow.
4. In bushes and clearings. — White-throated sparrow,
song sparrow, chipping sparrow, tree sparrow, field spar-
row, white-crowned sparrow, junco, Maryland yellow-throat,
kinglets, chewink, brown thrasher, rose-breasted grosbeak,
eatbird, robin, purple finch, goldfinch, winter wren.
5. By streams and rivers. — Phebe, waxwing, bank swal-
low, kingfisher, yellow warbler, red-winged blackbird, Mary-
land yellow-throat, whippoorwill, barn swallow, bank swal-
low, cliff swallow.
6. In woods. —Thrushes, wood pewee, oven-bird, black
and white creeper, woodpeckers, junco, nuthatch, grouse,
great-crested flycatcher, chewink, whippoorwill, tree spar-
row, fox sparrow, brown creeper, scarlet tanager, chickadee,
Blackburnian warbler, crossbills, vireos, redstart, black-
throated blue warbler, yellow-rumped warbler, winter wren.
7. Edge of woods. — Rose-breasted grosbeak, cowbird,
redstart, wood pewee, woodpeckers, kingbird, cuckoo, oven-
bird, bluebird, humming-bird, chickadee, chewink, great-
erested flycatcher, brown thrasher, yellow-bellied wood-
pecker, tree sparrow, white-throated sparrow, white-crowned
sparrow, fox sparrow, brown creeper, thrasher, vireos, ori-
ole, purple finch, junco, warblers, yellow hammer, winter
wren.
8. Roadside fences. — Bluebird, flicker, kingbird, red-
headed woodpecker, goldfinch, white - crowned sparrow,
field sparrow, vesper sparrow, song sparrow, white-throated
sparrow.
9. Thickets. — White-throated sparrow, song sparrow,
Maryland yellow-throat, chickadee, junco, chewink, brown
thrasher, white-crowned sparrow, field sparrow, catbird,
APPENDIX. 213
Wilson’s thrush, warblers (in migration), winter wren (in
migration), chestnut-sided warbler.
10. Pine woods. — Warblers, kinglets, chickadee, brown
thrasher, whippoorwill, white-crowned sparrow, crossbills,
purple finch, nuthatch, woodpeckers.
II. SrzE COMPARED WITH THE Rosin.
SMALLER THAN THE ROBIN.
1. Less than half as large. — Kinglets, chipping sparrow,
goldfinch, chickadee, nuthatch, warblers, winter wren, least
flycatcher, humming - bird, tree sparrow, field sparrow,
brown creeper, yellow-throated vireo, warbling vireo.
2. About half as large. — Swift, red-eyed vireo, oven-bird,
erossbills, wood pewee, purple finch, song sparrow, junco,
indigo-bird.
3. More than half as large. — Phebe, bluebird, waxwing,
downy woodpecker, barn swallow, bank swallow, cliff swal-
low, vesper sparrow, white-crowned sparrow, fox sparrow,
white-throated sparrow, bobolink, oriole, scarlet tanager,
snow bunting.
ABOUT THE SAME SIZE AS THE ROBIN.
Rose-breasted grosbeak, cowbird, red-headed woodpecker,
hairy woodpecker, yellow- bellied woodpecker, chewink,
great-crested flycatcher, red - winged blackbird, catbird,
thrushes, kingbird.
LARGER THAN THE ROBIN.
Yellow hammer, kingfisher, crow, grouse, brown thrasher,
whippoorwill, meadow-lark, cuckoo, night-hawk, keel-tailed
blackbird, blue jay.
214 APPENDIX.
III. Coors.
COLORS STRIKING OR BRIGHT.
1. Blue backs. — Blue jay, bluebird (azure blue), nut-
hatch (slate-blue), kingfisher (slate-blue), indigo-bird, black-
throated blue warbler, barn swallow (steel-blue).
2. Chestnut or red breasts. — Bluebird, robin, crossbills
(male), scarlet tanager (male), chewink.
3. Yellow or orange throats. — Blackburnian warbler, Ma-
ryland yellow-throat, summer yellow-bird, yellow-throated
vireo.
4. Yellow or orange breasts. — Yellow - throated vireo,
summer yellow-bird, goldfinch, oriole, meadow-lark, Black-
burnian warbler, Maryland yellow-throat.
5. Red patch on top or back of head in males. — Ruby-
crowned kinglet, woodpeckers, kingbird.
6. Red heads (entire head and neck red or madder pink). —
Red-headed woodpecker, purple finch (old males), crossbills
(males).
7. Birds wholly or largely black (males). — Crow, black-
birds, cowbird, redstart (salmon patches on breast, wings,
and tail), bobolink (whitish patches on nape of neck and
back), rose - breasted grosbeak (carmine patch on breast,
belly white), chewink (white breast, brown sides), oriole
(orange below).
COLORS DULL OR PLAIN.
1. Upper parts olive-green. — Breast unspotted: Kinglets
(patch of red or yellow in crown), vireos (top of head un-
marked), tanager (female), crossbills (females). Breast
spotted : Oven-bird (crown patch orange-brown bordered
with black).
2. Upper parts olive-gray. — Cuckoos (tail very long, bill
curved), great-crested flycatcher.
3. Upper parts dusky grayish-olive. — Phebe (length about
APPENDIX. 215
seven inches), wood pewee (length about six inches), least
flycatcher (length about five inches).
4. Upper parts brown. — a. Back without markings of any
kind: Indigo-bird (female), brown thrasher (breast spotted,
tail very long), Wilson’s thrush (breast spotted, tail short),
hermit thrush (breast spotted, tail short and red), winter
wren (back barred).
6. Back more or less streaked: Meadow-lark (below yel-
low with black collar), female rose-breasted grosbeak (rose
of male replaced by saffron yellow), bobolink (female and
male in winter, buffish-yellow below), purple finch (female),
brown creeper, grouse.
Sparrows: c. Breast unspotted in adult: Chipping
(crown brick red), white-throated (yellow snot in front of
eye), white-crowned (crown-cap of five lines), field sparrow
(rusty look).
d. Breast spotted or streaked : Song (no white on tail),
tree (breast with spot in centre, cap reddish).
5. General color chiefly black and white. —a. In large
patches or areas: Snowflake, bank swallow, rose-breasted
grosbeak (male), redstart (male), chewink (brown sides),
red-headed woodpecker (head and neck red).
b. In stripes. Black and white creeper.
c. In spots (above, white below): Hairy woodpecker,
downy woodpecker.
6. Yellow band across end of tail. —Waxwing (high crest).
7. White band across end of tail. — Kingbird (low crest).
8. Crown and throat black (size small). — Chickadee (back
dull ash-gray).
9. General color sooty. — Chimney swift.
10. General color slate. —Catbird, junco (belly and outer
tail feathers white).
BRILLIANT MALES CHANGING TO DULL COLORS OF FE-
MALES IN AUTUMN.
Bobolink (becomes almost sparrowy in appearance), gold-
216 APPENDIX.
finch (becomes flaxen-brown above and brownish-yellow be-
low), scarlet tanager (becomes greenish-yellow), yellow-
rumped warbler (becomes brownish).
BIRDS SHOWING WHITE ON TAIL FEATHERS IN FLIGHT.
Meadow-lark, vesper sparrow, junco, chewink (white tri-
angles on corners of tail), rose-breasted grosbeak, several
warblers, kingbird (white crescent bordering tail).
IV. Sones.
SINGERS.
1. Particularly plaintive. — Bluebird, white-throated spar-
row, hermit thrush, meadow-lark, wood pewee.
2. Especially happy. — Bobolink, song sparrow, goldfinch,
indigo-bird, chickadee.
3. Short songs. — Robin, chickadee, bluebird, Maryland
yellow-throat, meadow-lark, great-crested flycatcher, whip-
poorwill, white-crowned sparrow.
4. Long songs, with definite beginning, middle and end. —
Hermit thrush, indigo-bird, thrasher, chewink, song, field,
tree, fox, white-crowned, and white-throated sparrows.
5. Long songs, without definite beginning, middle, and end.
— Purple finch, catbird, goldfinch, warbling vireo.
6. Long loud songs. — Oriole, scarlet tanager, oven-bird,
rose - breasted grosbeak, chewink, winter wren, brown
thrasher.
TRILLERS.
(Saying tee-ka-tee-ka-tee-ka, or words to that effect.)
Low. — Redstart, summer yellow-bird, black and white
creeper, junco, chippy, brown creeper, swift (saying chippy-
chippy-chirio), nuthatch.
Loud. — Yellow hammer (if-if-if-i/-if-if-if ), kingfisher
(alarm), oven-bird (saying teacher).
APPENDIX. 217
VY. PECULIARITIES OF FLIGHT.
Conspicuously tail-steering : Keel-tailed blackbird.
Undulated flight: Goldfinch, woodpeckers, snowbird, blue-
bird.
Circling flight : Swallows and night-hawks.
Labored flight : Bobolink, meadow-lark, sparrows.
Fluttering flight : Chimney swift.
Particularly direct flight : Robin, crow, keel-tailed black-
bird, kingfisher, oriole, blue jay.
VI. Brrps with HABIT OF SONG-FLIGHT.
Cowbird, bobolink, oven-bird, bluebird, kingbird, swift,
woodpecker, red-shouldered blackbird, indigo- bird, song
sparrow, Maryland yellow-throat, meadow-lark, kingfisher,
euckoo, goldfinch, night-hawk, purple finch.
VII. MARKED HAasits.
1. Phlegmatic, meditative, fond of sitting quietly. — Wax-
wing, robin, thrushes, white-throated sparrow, meadow-lark,
wood pewee, woodpeckers, swallows, kingfisher.
2. Restless, constantly flitting about. — Winter wren, king-
lets, chickadee, warblers.
3. Loquacious. — Catbird, purple finch, crow blackbird,
blue jay, red-eyed vireo, warbling vireo, oven-bird, swift,
chippy, bobolink.
VIII. Brrps THAT WALK INSTEAD OF Hopping.
Keel-tailed blackbird, red-winged blackbird, crow, par-
tridge, cowbird, oven-bird, meadow-lark.
218 APPENDIX.
IX. SHAPE OF BILL ADAPTED TO Foon.
1. Short and stout, for cracking seeds. — Grosbeak, cross-
bills (crossed for getting out spruce and pine seeds), purple
finch, indigo-bird, junco, snow bunting, bobolink, sparrows,
chewink.
2. Long and slender for holding worms. —Thrushes, war-
blers, orioles, kinglets, brown creeper.
3. Hooked at end to hold insects. — Vireos, flycatchers.
4. Long and heavy for drilling holes in trees. — Wood-
peckers.
5. Slender and delicate for reaching insects at bottom of
Jlower tubes. — Humming-bird.
6. Large and long for holding jish. — Kingfisher.
X. WHERE CERTAIN Birps NEst.
1. On the ground. — Meadow-lark (meadows and fields),
white - throated sparrow, partridge, snow bunting, night-
hawk, bobolink, junco, oven-bird, song sparrow, hermit
thrush, Maryland yellow-throat, black and white creeper,
chewink, whippoorwill, vesper sparrow.
2. In holes. —a. Holes in trees and stubs: Woodpeck-
ers, nuthatch, chickadee, bluebird, great-crested flycatcher.
b. Holes in river and other banks: Kingfisher, bank
swallow.
3. In orchards. — Kingbird, goldfinch, waxwing, summer
yellow-bird, chipping sparrow, catbird, robin, blue jay, red-
start, cuckoo, least flycatcher.
4. About houses, sheds, and barns. — Robin, pheebe, eave
swallow, chimney swift, bluebird (in knot- holes in out-
houses or in bird boxes), chipping sparrow.
5. In bushes. — Cuckoo, chipping sparrow, ecatbird, rose-
breasted grosbeak, red-eyed vireo, Wilson’s thrush, red-
winged blackbird, song sparrow, yellow warbler, indigo
bunting, brown thrasher.
APPENDIX. 219
6. In low trees. — Tanager, chestnut-sided warbler, yellow
warbler, redstart, red-eyed vireo, purple finch, kingbird,
humming-bird, least flycatcher.
7. In high trees. — Robin, oriole (especially in elms),
crow, crow blackbird, purple finch, vireos, wood pewee,
Blackburnian warbler, crossbills, humming-bird.
8. In other birds’ nests. — Cowbird, cuckoo (rarely).
9. In crevices of logs or stumps. — Winter wren.
10. Under bark on trees. — Brown creeper.
XI. Brrps THAT ARE SEEN IN FLOCKS WHEN NOT NEST-
ING.
Cedar-bird, night-hawk, bobolink, white-throated sparrow,
junco, chickadee (small parties), nuthatch (small parties),
blue jay (small parties), red-headed woodpecker, crossbill,
purple finch, bluebird, goldfinch, kinglet, warblers, snowbird,
blackbird, chimney swift, crow, swallows, vesper sparrow,
tree sparrow, grouse.
BOOKS FOR REFERENCE.
A. 0. U. Check-List of North American Birds, 1895, $2.00 ;
abridged edition, 25 cents. L.S. Foster, New York.
Audubon, John James. Birds of America ; Ornithological
. Biography. (Both out of print.)
Baird, S. F., T. M. Brewer, and R. Ridgway. A History
of North American Birds. 5 vols. Little, Brown &
Co., Boston. $48.00.
Bendire, Chas. E. Life Histories of North American Birds.
2 vols. Smithsonian Institution, Washington. $15.00.
Chapman, Frank M. Uandbook of Birds of Eastern North
America. D. Appleton & Co., New York. $3.00;
pocket edition, $3.50. Bird-Life. D. Appleton & Co.,
New York. $1.75. With colored plates, 35.00.
Coues, Elliott. Key to North American Birds. Dana Estes
& Co., Boston. $7.50.
Elliot, Daniel G. The Gallinaceous Game Birds of North
America. Francis P..Harper, New York. $2.50.
Merriam, Florence A. Birds of Village and Field. Hough-
ton, Mifflin & Co., Boston. $2.00.
Minot, H. D. The Land-Birds and Game-Birds of New
England. Second edition, edited by William Brewster.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston. $3.50.
Nehrling, Henry. Our Native Birds of Song and Beauty.
2 vols. George Brumder, Milwaukee. Unbound,
$16.00 ; bound, $18.00-$22.00.
Nuttall, Thomas. A Manual of the Ornithology of the
United States and Canada. (Out of print.) A Popu-
lar Handbook of the Ornithology of Eastern North
America, being a new edition of the Manual of Orni-
thology revised and annotated by Montague Chamber-
lain. 2-vols. Little, Brown & Co., Boston. $7.50.
222 APPENDIX.
Ridgway, Robert. A Manual of North American Birds. J.
B. Lippincott Co., Philadelphia. $7.50.
Wilson, Alexander. American Ornithology. (Out of print.)
Wright, Mabel Osgood. Birderaft. The Maemillan Co.,
New York. $2.50.
Wright, Mabel Osgood, and Elliott Coues. Citizen Bird.
The Maemillan Co., New York. $1.50.
PERIODIC ALS.
Auk, The. A Quarterly Journal of Ornithology. Published
for the American Ornithologists’ Union by L. S. Foster,
New York. $3.00 per annum.
Osprey, The. An Illustrated Monthly Magazine of Orni-
thology. The Osprey Company, New York. $1.00
per annum.
BOOKS CONTAINING ORNITHOLOGICAL
ESSAYS AND SKETCHES.
Bolles, Frank. Land of the Lingering Snow ; At the North
of Beareamp Water; From Blomidon to Smoky.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston. $1.25 each.
Burroughs, John. Wake-Robin ; Winter Sunshine ; Birds
and Poets ; Locusts and Wild Honey ; Pepacton ; Fresh
Fields ; Signs and Seasons ; Riverby. Houghton,
Mifflin & Co., Boston. $1.25 each.
Miller, Olive Thorne. Bird Ways ; In Nesting Time ; Little
Brothers of the Air; A Bird-Lover in the West ; Upon
the Tree-tops. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston.
$1.25 each.
Robinson, Rowland E. In New England Fields and Woods.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston. $1.25.
Torrey, Bradford. Birds inthe Bush ; A Rambler’s Lease ;
The Foot-Path Way ; A Florida Sketch-Book ; Spring
Notes from Tennessee; A World of Green Hills.
Houghton, Miffiin & Co., Boston. $1.25 each.
INDEX.
—oe—
AMERICAN goldfinch, 76-80.
Arbitrary classification of birds de-
scribed, 211-219.
Baltimore oriole, 52-54.
Bank swallow, 165, 166.
Barn swallow, 55-57.
Bay-winged bunting, 171, 172.
Bee martin, 83-85.
Belted kingfisher, 57-60.
Bill, shape of, adapted to food, 218.
Blackbird, bronzed, 20-27.
crow, 20-27, 107.
keel-tailed, 20-27.
red-winged, 89-92, 107.
Blackbirds and orioles, general char-
acteristics, 209.
Blackburnian warbler, 186, 187.
Black-capped chickadee, 42-45.
Black-masked ground warbler, 191-
193
Black-throated blue warbler, 187,
188.
Black and white creeping warbler,
184, 185.
Bluebird, 14-16.
Blue jay, 69-75.
Bobolink, 27-32, 107.
Bronzed grackle, 20-27.
Brown creeper, 176, 177.
Brown thrasher, 150-153.
Bull-bat, 169-171.
Bunting, bay-winged, 171, 172.
snow, 144, 145.
Bush sparrow, 174, 175.
Catbird, 18-20.
Cedar-bird, 112-115.
Chestnut-sided warbler, 190, 191.
Chewink, 115-119.
Chickadee, black-capped, 42-45.
Chimney swallow, 16-18.
swift, 16-18.
Chip-bird, 60-66.
Chipping sparrow, 60-66.
Chippy, 60-66.
Classification, by colors, 214-216.
|
Classification by localities, 211-213.
by marked habits, 217.
by nesting habits, 218, 219.
by peculiarities of flight, 217.
by shape of bill, 218.
by size, 213.
by song, 216.
Cliff swallow, 166.
Colors, classification by, 214-216.
Cowbird, 105-108.
Creeper, brown, 176, 177.
Creepers, general characteristics, 210,
211.
Crossbills, 166-169.
Crow, 10-13.
rain, 46, 47.
blackbird, 20-27, 107, 108.
Crows and jays, general characteris-
tics, 209.
Cuckoo, 46, 47.
Cuckoos, general characteristics, 208.
Devil down-head, 100-105.
Downy woodpecker, 99, 100.
Eave swallow, 166.
Field sparrow, 174, 175.
Finch, grass, 171, 172.
purple, 122, 123.
Finches, general characteristics, 209.
Fire-bird, 52-54.
Flicker, 48-51.
Flight, peculiarities of, 217.
Flycatcher, great-crested, 163-165.
kingbird, 83-85.
least, 87-89.
Flycatchers, general characteristics,
209.
Fox sparrow, 175, 176.
Goatsuckers, general characteristics,
208.
Golden-crowned thrush, 132-138.
Golden robin, 52-54.
Golden warbler, 179, 180.
Goldfinch, American, 76-80.
224
Grackle, bronzed, 20-27.
Grass finch, 171, 172.
Great-crested flycatcher, 163-165.
Grosbeak, rose-breasted, 153, 154.
Grouse, ruffed, 32-35.
Hair-bird, 60-66.
Hairy woodpecker, 92-98.
Hangnest, 52-54.
Hemlock warbler, 186, 187.
Hermit thrush, 202-205.
Humming-bird, ruby-throated, 36-40.
Humming-birds, general characteris-
tics, 209.
Indigo-bird, 119-122.
Jay, blue, 69-75.
Jays, general characteristics, 209.
Junco, 138-140.
Keel-tailed blackbird, 20-27.
Kingbird, 83-85.
Kingfisher, belted, 57-60.
Kingfishers, general characteristics,
208.
Kinglets, 140-144.
general characteristics, 211.
Lark, meadow, 40-42.
Least flycatcher, 87-89.
Localities, classification by, 211.
Marked habits, 217.
Martin, bee, 83-85.
sand, 165, 166.
Maryland yellow-throat, 191-1$3.
Meadow-lark, 40-42, 107, 108.
Myrtle warbler, 189, 190.
Nesting habits, classification by, 218,
219.
Night-hawk, 169-171.
Nuthatch, white-bellied, 100-105.
Nuthatches, general characteristics,
211.
Orange-throated warbler, 186, 187.
Oriole, 52-54, 107, 108.
Orioles, general characteristics, 209.
Oven-bird, 132-138.
Partridge, 32-35.
Peculiarities of flight, 217.
Pewee, wood, 85-87.
Pheebe, 80-83.
Pigeon-holes for perching birds, 206,
207.
Purple finch, 122, 123.
Rain crow, 46, 47.
Red-eyed vireo, 124-129.
INDEX.
| Red-headed woodpecker, 159, 160.
Redstart, 180-184.
Red-winged blackbird, 89-92, 107,
| 108.
Reed-bird, 27-32.
Rice-bird, 27-32.
Robin, 4-10.
golden, 52-54.
Rose-breasted grosbeak, 153, 154.
Ruby-throated humming-bird, 36-40.
| Ruffed grouse, 32-35.
Sand martin, 165, 166.
Sapsucker, yellow-bellied, 160-163.
Scarlet tanager, 146-150.
Shape of bill adapted to food, 218.
Size compared with the robin, 213.
| Slate-colored snowbird, 138-140.
Snowbird, #late-colored, 138-140.
| Snow bunting, 144, 145.
Snowflake, 144, 145.
| Social sparrow, 60-66.
| Songs, classification by, 216.
| Song flight, 217.
| Song sparrow, 66-68.
Sparrow, bay-winged, 171, 172.
bush, 174, 175.
chipping, 60-66.
field, 174, 175.
fox, 175, 176.
junco, 138-140.
social, 60-66.
song, 66-68.
tree, 172, 173.
vesper, 171, 172.
white-crowned, 173, 174.
white-throated, 109-111.
Sparrows, general characteristics,
209.
Summer yellow-bird, 179, 180.
| Swallow, bank, 165, 166.
barn, 55-57.
chimney, 16-18.
cliff, 166.
eave, 166.
Swallows, general
210
a
characteristics,
Swift, chimney, 16-18.
; Swifts, general characteristics, 208,
209.
Tanager, scarlet, 146-150.
Tanagers, general characteristics,
210
Tawny thrush, 198-202.
Thistle-bird, 76-80.
| Thrasher, brown, 150-153.
Thrashers, general characteristics,
210.
Thrush, golden-crowned, 132-138.
hermit, 202-205.
tawny, 198-202.
os
INDEX. 995
Thrush, veery, 198-202.
Wilson’s, 198-202.
Thrushes, general characteristics,
193-197, 211.
means of distinguishing, 197.
Titmouse, 42-45.
Tits, general characteristics, 211.
Towhee, 115-119.
Tree sparrow, 172, 173.
Veery, 198-202.
Vesper sparrow, 171, 172.
Vireo, red-eyed, 124-129.
warbling, 131, 132.
- yellow-throated, 129, 130.
Vireos, general characteristics, 210.
Warblers, blackburnian, 186, 187.
black-masked ground, 191-193.
black-throated blue, 187, 188.
SS and white creeping, 184,
185.
chestnut-sided, 190, 191.
golden, 179, 180.
hemlock, 186, 187.
Maryland yellow-throat, 191-
193.
myrtle, 189, 190.
orange-throated, 186, 187.
redstart, 180-184.
summer, 179, 180.
yellow, 179, 180.
Warblers, yellow-rumped, 189, 190.
general characteristics, 178,
179, 210.
where to look for, 179.
Warbling vireo, 131, 152.
Waxwing, 112-115.
Waxwings, general characteristics,
210.
Whippoorwill, 155.
White-bellied nuthatch, 100-105.
White-crowned sparrow, 173, 174.
White-throated sparrow, 109-111.
Wilson’s thrush, 198-202.
Winter wren, 155-159.
Woodpecker, downy, 99, 100.
hairy, 92-98.
red-headed, 159, 160.
yellow-bellied, 160-163.
Woodpeckers, general characteristics,
208.
| Wood pewee, 85-87.
Wren, winter, 155-159.
| Wrens, general characteristics, 210.
Yellow-bellied sapsucker, 160-163.
Yellow-bird, 76-80.
summer, 179, 180.
Yellow hammer, 48-51.
Yellow-rumped warbler, 189, 190.
Yellow-throated vireo, 129, 130.
Yellow warbler, 179, 180.
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