HE saa) DRDS apaoae e: Ag : YA —————— a — —- \\ . = aT \ Y ff ss BESS | tIK \ = . Sarat a ; ~ 1 “ \) = = b.| | eS SEU sz - = SSS - AV TTT as Y, 0 $ JONATHAN -DWIGHT Jr e * . : a » - 3 ie “ e : > ; . 7 Ne peg * , - . ot 7 a w 4 ° m4 bd . ca - i. ] ‘ * 2 ee : 4 ‘ : - ., q it + p : « wit ‘ Ls oy + - * — Gs . . da ‘ ee | . he ‘ , * ‘ ; *% 7 > 4 am 2 ; P Dy re =. “ ib tis yy yo vir ey, Gan : ath abv ey wat Wer as THE BLESSED BIRDS OR HIGHWAYS anp BYWAYS > By ELDRIDGE sEUGENEFISH. PUBLISHED BY OTTO ULBRIiGCH 395 Main St., BuFFAto, N. Y. CopyRIGHT, 1890. BY Hebe) hiss PRESS OF BAKER, Jones & Co., Burrato, N. Y. woo, COW TEN TS: SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS - - A Day’s OUTING IN SEARCH OF THE ARBUTUS - VENTRILOQUIAL AND IMITATIVE POWER OF BIRDS WRENS - - - - - - TREES AND TREES - - - - INTELLIGENCE IN BIRDS~ - - - - A Day IN AN OLD ORCHARD AUTUMN VISITORS - = ef a 5 Nestinc Hapits or Birps - MapLE SuGAR MAKING - - - > DANGER OF AN EARLY EXTINCTION OF SONG BIRDS A SEARCH FOR A WHIPPOORWILL’S NEST - A SumMMER DRIVE IN THE LAKE COUNTRY - ORNITHOLOGICAL NOMENCLATURE - - = 109 125 141 151 161 178 189 201 247 ‘ge » any 1 pee ge ae gist nn ae art oe PREFACE: Some of the following papers originally appeared in the ‘Buffalo Sunday Courier,’ ‘Buf- falo Commercial,’ Bulletin of the ‘Society of Natural Sciences, and Chicago ‘ Humane Jour- nal.’ They were apparently so well received that I have been persuaded to revise and republish them, in connection with others of more general interest, in book form. What I have written of the birds in this little volume has been ‘a labor of love” Human companionship excepted, these blessed creatures have ministered to my happiness in a greater degree than any other class of objects. About home they have ever been a solace and a delight. When I have been among human strangers I have found the birds old acquaintances and inti- mate friends, always giving so much, and exacting so little in return. The continued persecution vi PREFACE. which they have received from the cruel and unthinking has been the great sorrow of my life. Although in a humble way, ‘in season,’ and perhaps, sometimes, ‘out of season,’ I have worked and pleaded for a better and wiser treat- ment of them, yet I shall ever remain their erateful debtor. If I have written anything that shall make them better known and better loved—anything that shall cause a woman to hesitate before allowing any part of one to disfiguré her gar- ment—anything that will prevent the present lavish waste of life by the collector of specimens— anything that will check the wholesale destruc- tion of nests by the thoughtless egg collector— I shall feel repaid for the labor bestowed. SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE Bie. “« The interest the birds excite is of all grades, from that which looks upon them as items of millinery, up to that of makers of ornithological systems, who ransack the world for specimens, and who have no ddubt that the chief end of a bird ts to be named and catalogued. Somewhere between the two extremes comes the person whose interest in the birds is personal and friendly, who has little taste for shooting and an aversion for dissecting, who delights in the living creatures themselves, and counts a bird in the bush worth two in the hand ; not rating birds merely as bodies, but as souls. z “Others will discover in the birds of which I write many things that I miss, and perhaps will miss some things which I have treated as patent or even conspicuous. | It remains for each to testify what he has seen, and at the end to confess that a soul, even the soul of a bird, ts, after all, a mystery.” BRADFORD TORREY’S ‘ BIRDS IN THE BUSH.’ SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. Marcu 27.—Among the fair gifts which the bright days of spring will bestow upon us, none are looked forward to with livelier anticipation of pleasure than the coming of the birds. If there is a tender spot in the heart, it will leap with a thrill of joy as the first musical note of the robin or bluebird falls on the ear, an invocation from awakening nature. It is the return of dear friends from long and perilous journeys. The only flaw in our enjoyment of them is the thought that only a fraction of those which left us last summer and autumn will return. Like the soldiers of an harassed army, many fell on field and highway on their southern journey ; others were destroyed for food in the land to which they had gone to escape the cold of our winters, while still a larger number were killed and are being killed on their homeward journey. Each year these annual migrations are beset with increased perils. The country over which they pass offers fewer secure feeding places. Forests have been cut down; swamps have been drained; the freedmen who often watch for this small game are becoming more generally provided with fire-arms ; additional lighthouses have been erected along the coasts. These latter are sources of peculiar danger to 10 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. the birds, as most of them fly during the nights ; and if these are dark, the lighthouses always attract great numbers, which perish by dashing against them. Some mornings hundreds have been picked up under one of these false beacons to the birds. The city lights also allure thousands on dark and stormy nights. Many of these strike against the high buildings or against the net-work of wires, now so generally distributed. But the greatest danger, and the one for which all sensible and humane people must blush, is the bloody gauntlet these beautiful and innocent creatures have to pass, of the thousands of heartless, greedy gunners who are on the watch for their coming, and who kill countless scores of them which stop for rest or food or by stress of weather. The danger is all the greater, as the spring migrations mostly occur before the leaves are thick enough to screen from sight, and the birds are in bright plumage, the more attractive and tempting to the most destructive classes, the collectors of specimens and the gatherers of bird skins for decorative and millinery purposes. Between these two classes of outlaws, assisted by the army of worthless tramps who kill for the fun of killing, the innocent birds are subjected to persecutions unknown to other living creatures. The last few years have been those of great peril and destruction to them, and they are disappearing surely sand more rapidly than the shy wild flowers over whose loss the true botanist is so justly troubled. When we realize the large number of men and boys whose sole occupation is killing them, and when we see the hun- SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. Tha dreds and thousands of their lifeless bodies in shops, on hats and fans, in private cases and in museums, knowing too that for every one preserved many more are wasted and thrown away, we only wonder that any remain. We may truly say of these, as was said of old of other things, ‘‘ Except these days be shortened, none shall be saved.” To those who truly love the birds and who make pleasant companionship with them, a yearly chronicling of their first arrival in the spring is an agreeable recrea- tion. The observing naturalist knows pretty well when to expect the different species, although the weather may hasten or retard for a few days the arrival of some _ of the earlier migrants. A few of the hardier species remain in this latitude the year round. Among these are the snow-buntings, snow-birds, woodpeckers, nut- hatches and titmice. The buntings and snow-birds feed mostly from seeds of the tall weeds which stand above the snow, while the others live on larve and insects’ eggs, hidden in the bark of shrubs and trees, so that all weather is alike to them excepting when the trees are covered with a coating of ice. Many a day during the past winter, when the thermometer was near zero, and sometimes even below, the little black-capped titmouse (Parus attricapillus), cheerful and sprightly, lisped out his chick-a-de-dee as he searched the limbs of the maple trees for food. Occasionally on milder mornings, his sweet, plaintive whistle, much resembling that of the white-throated sparrow, was a grateful surprise, as this whistle is his usual love-song, oftener heard at mating 12 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. time. He has still another song, not put down in the books, which it has occasionally been my good fortune to hear, a dainty little warble, clear and liquid as a rip- pling brook. Of the migratory birds proper, the shore larks (Otocoris alpestris) are probably the first ones here from the south. In moderate winters one may see them in the city suburbs or outlying fields in February. They often bring out the first brood in the latter part of March, or early in April. Last year near the park homestead a nest was found with four eggs, which were hatched the first week in April. I have seen the young birds running about as nimble as little partridges sev- eral seasons as early as this. The late snows often cover the bird while she is sitting on the nest, and it is a mys- tery how she keeps herself and eggs from freezing. These larks are so silent and retiring in manner that their presence is less likely to be observed than that of some of the later comers. In habit they are real ground birds, but, unlike most such, they walk or run, but do not hop. When closely pressed they take wing, uttering a soft “cheep,” rise rapidly to some height, and then suddenly drop down again near the place of starting. They seldom alight on a tree or green bush, but often perch on a rail or fence-stake by the roadside, where, if undisturbed, they will sit silent for a long time. While on the wing they often indulge in a low, monotonous warble, but their real song, which is sprightly and musical, is generally given from the ground, or from a perch on a stone in the open field. SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 13 They may easily be recognized by the strong mark- ings, particularly about the head, a black crescent under the eye and a peculiar tuft of lengthened feathers on each ear resembling horns—from which one of their common names, “horned larks.” The color of the back is a pale brown, the under parts being white, with a darker shading towards the upper breast, where it is met by a crescent of black. The throat and chin are yellow, and the tail black, with the outer edges tipped with white. Of our three well-known favorites, the robin, bluebird and song sparrow, it is a question which we will see first, as 1t is sometimes one and sometimes another. In favorable localities, individual robins make their appear- ance in the advance, but the two other species generally arrive in force a little the earlier. On his first arrival the robin, in most cases, has only a call or a scold, and the bluebird only a gentle twitter; but the song spar- row comes with his sweet song in his throat ready to break out in clearest cadence almost as soon as he alights. The first mellow call of the robin, like that of the high hole, is as sweet as a song, and one of the most pleasing sounds of spring. When he has been here a day or two he will more than make amends for his first silence, and all through the sprmg and summer, early and late, he will fill the land with more rich melody than any other living being. He is a companionable bird, seeking the haunts of civilization, and may oftener be heard in orchards, lawns and along shady highways than in ee forests. 14 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. March 9th, this year, blue birds were flying northward over the city at intervals during the morning. They had undoubtedly been on the wing all night, as it was pleasant and moonlight. They were just visible to the eye, and only uttured their plaintive “chee-ry,” but it was the first real voice of spring, and sent a thrill of pleasure through the heart of the listener, quickening the pulses like some tender pathos in a poem. The fol- lowing day, March 10th, robins were seen in different parts of the city, and song sparrows in considerable numbers were in the park and at Forest Lawn; these were in full song, and not troubled, like their weather- wise human friends, about the wintry weather still in store for them. In turning over my note-book I read “March 9 and 10, 1877, robins, song sparrows, blue birds and purple grackle here in great numbers.” Only one year since have they come as early. Last year it was March 18th, and the year before a week later. They often arrive just before or soon after the spring equinox. The date of the arrival of those that come later when the weather is settled can be predicted with greater accuracy. Arrit 3.—Closely following the robins, sometimes accompanying them, are the purple grackles (Quzscalus quiscula). ‘Their cousins, the redwings (Agelais pheni- ceus), come a little later. Both are harbingers of spring, bright spots of life and color in the naked land- scape. On some bright, crisp morning in March we generally first see the grackle, where, from his high perch near the top of a tree, in a song, half gurgle, half SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 15 warble, he greets a companion sure to be near. The grackles choose an elevated position from which to sing, but in feeding they are less ambitious; and walk about leisurely on the ground searching for grubs and worms and other earth insects. In the fields they often follow, at a safe distance, the plow, eagerly devouring the fat, wriggling morsels brought to light by the upturned furrow. They are, to quite an extent, city birds, haunt- ing lawns where are evergreens, and often nesting in these if the trees are large and dense. Forest Lawn is one of their favorite resorts, and hundreds of them remain here during the season. Every summer they nest in the evergreens of the old part of the cemetery, and a few pairs in the clumps of pines near the clear lake. When one of these nests is disturbed a dozen birds will frequently become noisy and threatening, making common cause against the intruder. They may well be watchful and unite forces, as they are not fav- orites of the smaller birds, which they often rob of eggs and young. One is sorry to even speak of any birds in other than commendatory terms, and if feasting on the delicious green corn of the farmers at the beginning of the fall migrations was their only fault, far would it be from me to expose their short-coming; but robbing nests and killing innocent birds are grievous faults, and the perpetrators, be they men, boys or birds, ought not to be shielded from proper punishment. The grackles are very handsome, with trim figures and rich suits of black and purple, emerald and bronze. These colors are changeable, in different lights, often showing an 16 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. iridescence as rich and brilliant as that of the wood duck or the wild pigeon. The redwing, or American starling, is smaller than the grackle or crow blackbird, and although less brill- iant, has stronger markings. The male is black, with the exception of the shoulders, which are bright scar- let, with buff and orange edgings. These epaulets are conspicuous, and give him a jaunty, military appear- ance well in keeping with his character. On his first arrival his habits are much like those of the grackle. He likes a perch on an upper twig or limb, where he will cluck and call, gurgle and whistle, as the mood overtakes him. One seldom hears a pleasanter musicale than was given one morning in Rumsey park by these bright-colored minstrels. It was just after sunrise. A robin began with his sweet old story of “Cherries, ” a grackle from an ever- green interrupted with “Forme? Are they for me?” Then some redwings from a neighboring willow chimed in, “Oh! what glee we shall see.’ One thought of Emerson’s “ May Day:” cherries, to be ripe in June; Why chidest thou the tardy spring? The blackbirds make the maples ring With social cheer and jubilee: The redwing flutes his ok-a-lee. The redwings often stop several days in or about the city in the localities favored with tall trees, but on the arrival of the females, which is frequently two or three weeks later, they are off to low meadows, marshes or swamps, in which to nest, probably influenced by the ~ SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 17 food supply more readily obtained in these places. With the exception of the cow-bunting, the blackbirds are all companionable, and later gregarious, gathering in large flocks, seemingly organized and under the direction of chosen leaders. Those bright little gems, the golden- crowned wrens (/egulus satrapa), began to arrive about the middle of March. They first made their presence known by a slight chirping as they hopped about the branches of the low trees in quest of food. They have stout little feet with sharp claws, and can cling to the trunk of a tree or on the under side of a limb much in the manner of the chicadees and creepers. They are the smallest of our song birds, genteel in figure, rich in color, with gentle and confiding manners. They are more frequently called “kinglets,’ and they answer well to the name “little kings,” among the birds. They are courageous and hardy little creatures, braving cold and snows and long journeys. They seem to have little fear of man, and will allow one to stand within a few feet of them without showing any sign of apprehension. Their limited acquaintance doubtless accounts for this too often misplaced confidence. A few days ago I was standing under an old oak, watching the graceful movements of three or four of these beautiful creatures as they chirped and twittered while searching the bark and twigs for food. To attract their attention I commenced in low tones to talk to them. Suddenly one began to descend, hop- ping from one limb to another, and finally alighted on my head. It was only for an instant, however; as his 18 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. feet touched the hat it startled him, and with a quick chirp he flew to another tree. I could not again coax him within reach, although he watched me curiously for some time. Most of them pass the winter months in the south- ern forests, and the summer in the northern woods away from the haunts of men; though some of them pass the summer in Central and Western New York. Ornithologists do not credit them with breeding as far south as this, but I have little doubt that they nest in the woods at Portage, Idlewood and Angola, as I have found them here in pairs, and in full song, from April till the middle of July. The golden-crowned wren is olive green above, darker between the wings; the outer webs of the wings and tail feathers are bright green ; the under parts of the body a grayish white; the wings marked with black, with two white bars across them. There is a patch of bright orange on the crown, mar- gined with yellow and black. This bright crown spot the bird can obscure by a movement of the yellow feathers surrounding it, so that it sometimes appears to flash like the sparkle of the firefly. The female and young have only the yellow in the place of the bright crest of the adult male. Their stay is often prolonged several days in the city and open country. During this | time they have only a soft twitter or chirp, much like that of the little chippy, only shorter and lighter. Their fine songs are reserved for their summer home in the deep woods. This song is a sweet, vibrating whistle, and can be heard at a great distance. Burroughs calls SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 19 it the “needle song,” it is so finely drawn. Its wild, sylvan melody, like that of the winter wren, hallows the woods, investing their shadowy recesses with an additional charm. The high wind that partially wrecked Music Hall one night last October played mischief -with these kinglets, which in great numbers were making their southern journey. They were compelled to alight; some were dashed to the ground, and others flew against windows where lights were left burning; some of these were taken in and cared for till morning. The following day the shade trees were alive with these bright little strangers, which immediately made themselves at home. It was pleasant to watch them as they busied them- selves searching the tree for larve and insects’ eggs. When they found an infected limb they did not leave until it was entirely cleared. The English sparrows watched them inquisitively, following them about, not knowing whether to regard them as visitors or intruders. They were so tame and unsuspecting that many were killed with sticks and stones by gangs of bad boys in different parts of the city, who went from tree to tree in pursuit until dispersed by policemen. The past week has been one of extreme hardship to the venturesome birds. The drenching rain froze as it fell, coating everything with ice, thus cutting off the natural supply of food. This was followed by a fall of snow and severe cold. The robins have been silent and dumpish. Many of the blue birds perished, and others have disap- peared. Even with those hardy little wrens the problem _ 20 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. of existence has been a close one, but the presence of so many of them shows that they have satisfactorily solved it. Aprit 10.—The ruby-crowned wrens (/eegulus calen- dula) ave a little tardier in coming than their cousins, the golden-crowned. In habit, size, color and markings — they bear a close resemblance. The distinguishing physical feature is the redder patch on the crown of the former, which is often obscured by the loose feathers surrounding it. This patch is bright red instead of orange. The songs of the two species are very differ- ent. That of the ruby-crowned is a broken warble, while the golden-crowned is a slender whistle; both are on high keys and far-reaching. The former sing dur- ing their transient stay; the latter not till their arrival at their summer home in the woods. I know of but one other so small bird, and that is the winter wren, whose notes are so resonant and far-sounding as those of the ruby-crowned. To hear his song is a favor well worthy of chronicling. I shall not soon forget my glad surprise on first hearing it to know it. I was standing under one of the large larches in Forest Lawn when I heard sharp, vibratory call notes, much resembling those of the oriole, immediately followed by a warble of wonderful power, as clear, rich and ringing as that of the purple finch. My first thought was that it was the purple finch. And so very near! Looking up I saw the little Orpheus in feathers, his bright crown glowing in the sunlight; his throat swelling as the SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. rfl sweet notes welled out in wild rhythm, while his whole body vibrated in ecstasy at his own music. Instead of appearing disturbed at my presence, he seemed to understand that he was giving pleasure, for he poured out song after song, all the time coming down on the limbs, nearer and nearer, until I could have reached him with my hand. On leaving I only regretted my inability in some measure to reward the gifted minstrel for the rare entertainment he had given, making, as it did, the world brighter and better. The Hudsonian sparrow (/Junco hiemalis) arrived here several days ago. Although few in number, they are conspicuous by their rich color and peculiar markings. The back is a dark slate, almost blue black, while the lower part of the body, and also the bill, are nearly white. The lateral quills in the tail are white, and show in fight much like those of the grass finch. They gen- erally make their appearance in the morning, coming in small flocks during the night. They choose ravines, thick copses, hedges, or other sheltered places, during this weather, but those that do not go farther north for the summer will soon separate in pairs to begin nest building. Until recently these sparrows have not been credited with remaining through the summer in any considerable numbers as far south as this, but I have found their nests in several different counties in Central and Western New York, though generally in cooler, damper regions. Here they often raise two broods in a season, sometimes three. Their nests are placed on the ground ,and are always models in form and finish, 92, HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. and lined with fine hair or other soft material. These nests much resemble those of the oven bird, except the artificial covering, but they are always.so placed in tus- socks, or on the side of knolls or banks, as to make a natural shelter that will completely hide from view the sitting birds. They have somehow learned that their . conspicuous color makes this precaution necessary, while the neutral or ground-colored sparrows nearly all nest in open places, their resemblance to the surroundings proving their natural safeguard. The common song of the junco is merely a succession of clear, tinkling notes like the rhythmic clinking of pieces of silver. I have also occasionally heard it indulge in a low warble, always pleasing, because unex- pected. The Hudsonian sparrow has almost as many local names as the “flicker.” Among them are “slate sparrow,” from its color; “black chippy,” from its chirping notes so similar to those of the chipping bird; and “snow bird,” from its occasional appearance in company with the snow-bunting in midwinter. The latter part of March small flocks of cedar birds (Ampelis cedrorum) put in a brief appearance. They were evidently on a tour of inspection, “spying out the land,” as they soon returned south to await milder days and a better supply of food before settling for the sum- mer. ‘They are readily recognized by the tuft of crown feathers or “top-not;” and also by the little scarlet beads upon the wing feathers, resembling bits of red sealing wax. They are hardly classed among the sing- ing birds, but their presence adds a charm to the sur- SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 23 :_ roundings. Elegant in form and graceful in motion, with a plumage of soft, rich groundwork delicately tinted with brighter hues, these birds well harmonize with the fruits and flowers with which they are so often associated, for, although usually insectivorous, they eat more or less of ripe cherries, and also petals of blossoms, especially those of the red maple and hawthorn. They call attention to their presence by a faint lisping note unlike that of any other bird. They also indulge in a little warble so low as seldom to be noticed, except by the attentive ear. These pretty creatures are very gen- tle and affectionate among themselves, going about in little flocks and caressing and feeding one another like the turtle doves. If one of a pair is caught the other will allow itself to be taken also, rather than leave its imprisoned mate. These birds were formerly plentiful and very tame, but, to a great extent, they have shared the fate of so many others of bright plumage. The present general discussion of this subject must necessarily eventuate in wiser dealings with these friends and better protection of them. Sensible women are quite generally discarding these unbecoming deco- rations. A change in public sentiment is apparent. A conversation I recently overheard between two little girls on the subject was a hopeful sign and worth noting. A sweet-faced little nine-year-old girl, seeing one of these ornaments on the hat of her companion, asked her why she wore it. ‘“O! it is so pretty,” she answered; “but,” said the first, “would it not be much prettier alive, in a tree where it could sing?” 24. HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. Apri 17.—Langille says: “Not many hours earlier or later than April 7th we hear the vesper sparrow (Poocetes gramineus), and almost at the same hour they are here in great numbers; and throughout our latitude the fields and pastures are everywhere enlivened by their appearance.” My experience is that April weather has much to do in determining the day of the arrival of this species, as well as of many others. This year none of them were here before the 11th, and then only in limited numbers. Some years you may not hear one in this vicinity before April 20th, while in other seasons the latter part of March may bring them. A record in my note-book for fifteen years gives the middle of April as the average date. As remarked in a former paper, the weather has much to do in hastening or delaying the arrival of the earlier migrants, just as it has on the opening of the first wild flowers. But early or late in coming, the presence in any considerable numbers of these delightful birds brings glad tidings and a promise, not often broken, of real spring weather. They are not like the song sparrows, cheerful amid snow and sleet, singing with the weather at zero, but delight rather in the genial days of spring and summer. In other char- acteristics these two bear a close resemblance. They are about the same size and shape, and much the same general color. The vespers are a little lighter gray, less rufus on the back, and not so strongly marked. They have the distinguishing feature of two or three white lateral tail quills, which show plainly when they fly. They are less city.birds in summer than the melo- SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 25 dia, but are more plentiful in grassy fields and along country highways, where they are particularly musical on warm, cloudy days and just at dusk. The songs of the melodia and gramineus differ in continuity and time; in other respects their similarity makes it diffi- cult for many persons to distinguish the one from the other. The theme of the song sparrow is broken, and consists of from three to five bars or strains; that of the vesper is continuous, the notes beginning slowly, but rapidly accelerating in time until near the close, when the song diminishes in volume, the last notes becoming almost inaudible. The vesper sparrows are classed among the ecstatic singers, as they pour out the notes in the same fervent manner as do the veeries and quavering, or field sparrows. They are gregarious and sociable even during the nesting season, several pairs generally living in the same immediate neighborhood. At twilight their concerts are a delightful feature of coun- try life. One will sing his sweet, though somewhat plaintive song, then another will take up the strain, and perhaps another and another, until half a dozen or more will be engaged in this vesper service, making almost a continuous strain of melody. These sparrows, unlike most of the family, usually nest in open places, making a catefully constructed nest on the ground in a little excavation without any cover or shelter. Perhaps this is a cunning ruse to deceive the little animals that go about nights probing around every tussock and hillock in quest of eggs and young birds. We know this clever bird, when scared from the nest, will run 26 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. very rapidly a few steps, and then fall and flutter along as though wounded until she has drawn the intruder from the nest, when she will suddenly arise and fly to a safe retreat, uttering as she goes a complaining note much like that of the song sparrow. I have found a few of these nests in brush heaps, and also in low, thick bushes. This sparrow is perhaps oftener known by the name of grass finch or bay-winged bunting. April 14th I heard both the white-throated sparrows (Zonotrichia albicollis) and the white-crowned (Zono- trichia leucophrys). It was a surprise, as these spar- rows are seldom seen in this neighborhood before the latter part of this month. During the spring and fall migrations these beautiful species are abundant. In spring they remain several days, singing very sweetly in the sunny mornings. In their breeding haunts farther north, they are said to sing in all kinds of weather, but I have never heard them sing here except- ing on the pleasantest days. Their songs are simple but very pleasing. That of the white-throated consists of six or seven clearly whistled notes, in quality resem- bling those of the chicadee, but there are more of them and of greater variety. The song of the white-crowned is peculiar. It begins with a clear, though subdued whistle, and ends with three or four detached, bell-like notes, unique but very delightful. If in sight these sparrows are easily identi- fied by their conspicuous markings. The leucophrys has a white crown with black lines, the white meeting at the nape of the neck, and the black at the base of the SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. OT upper mandible. The albicollis has a black crown with white lateral lines, the black meeting at the back of the head, and the white in front. Both have white bars across the wings. The albicollis has also a pure white throat, with yellow on the edge of the wings, and also bright yellow lines from the bill to the eye. The other is without this brilliant yellow. These sparrows are often found in company, both in the spring and fall migrations. Apri 24.—Not another sound in nature is so clear and joyous, so full of cheer and hearty greeting, as that of the highhole or golden-winged woodpecker (Colaptes auratus). The call isa musical “ha! ha! ha!” full of laughter and good fellowship, a most friendly spring greeting, in keeping with the pleasant April days in which one will first hear it. These few hearty notes are something like the resonant call notes which we first hear from the robin, and if not singing, these utterances are as sweet as a song, and should entitle the bird to be classed with the oscines. A few days later, when the preparations for housekeeping begin, these birds have a more subdued laughter, just as joyous per- haps, but less loud and boisterous. Sometimes two or three couples of them will play “ hide and seek ” around the branches or trunks of the trees, and say “ yarrup, wake up; yarrup, wake up,” with a rapidity not easily transcribed, indulging at the same time in much other small talk understood only by themselves. Many times I have lain under the trees watching their playful 28 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. - maneuvers and listening to the delightful pleasantries, feeling that man is not the only animal endowed with conversational powers. Not long since I spent half a forenoon watching the interesting performance of one of these most royal of birds on the chapel by Scajaquada Creek. He was on the iron-covered chimney, and hammering away on the sheet iron. He would stop a minute and listen for a response, then call loudly in his clear, mellow voice, and hammer away again on his fine sounding board. He knew he had “a good thing,” and he kept posses- sion of it most the forenoon. When I approached too near he would get behind the chimney and “ wake up, wake up” to let me know he was not asleep. Some- times these “ golden wings” will find an old tin pan in a pasture to hammer upon. We have few more useful, interesting and beautiful birds than these, which, although classed with the woodpeckers, have few of the characteristics of that family. They associate principally with the robins, and pass less time in the trees than on the ground, where they obtain most of their food, which to a large extent consists of ants and their eggs. Although nat- urally tame and confiding, they are very sagacious, and have learned to put themselves on the opposite side of the trunk or branches of the trees when menaced with the guns of sportsmen. The highholes are about a foot in length, with a plumage rich and brilliant. The back and upper sides of their wings are a dark umber trans- versely streaked with black. The under parts of the SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 29 body are white and pale yellow, with black, heart- shaped spots. A broad collar of jet black separates the throat and breast, while a crimson crescent ornaments the back of the head, and reaches to the eye. The under sides of the wings and tail and also all the quill shafts are a bright golden yellow. For nesting places they generally select a dry stub or the decayed top of a live tree, chisel out a circular hole a few inches horizontally, and then work downward a foot or more, excavating a cavity large enough at the bottom to contain the brood of five or six young birds; six is the usual number. The nest is placed from five to fifty feet from the ground, according to convenience. I have seen them in stumps and also in the boles of apple trees within reach of the hand. I remember a large beech that stood just on the edge of my father’s woods. The tree had limbs nearly all the way up its trunk. A few feet from the top was dead, and in this decayed part, just under the node of a broken limb, and at least fifty feet from the ground, a pair of high- holes excavated a nest which they used for four consec- utive years. I say the same pair, for I easily recognized both of the birds, and used to watch with much interest for their annual return. Probably every day during the four years from the time the first egg was deposited till the young birds flew away, I climbed to’ the nest to examine the state of affairs and see how the family was getting along. The old birds, shy at first, became accustomed to my daily visits, and soon showed very little concern about my presence, and both would 30 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. come and feed the young while I was standing on a limb but a few feet below them. The two alternated in excavating the place for the nest, and both assisted in clearing it out each spring. All chips and refuse were carried away, that they might not betray the neighborhood of the nest. The male often brought food to his mate, although he took his place on the nest when she was away. ‘The whole family, old and young, remained in the neighborhood and in company, and at the fall migration went south together. The fourth summer, just before the young birds were able to fly, a boy in the neighborhood shot one of the old ones, and the other continued the care of the brood. The tree was never again occupied as a nesting place. I have long been satisfied that several species of our song birds not only mated for the season, but for life. Such was certainly the case with this pair. Dr. C. C. Abbott, in a late charming book, “ Waste Land Wanderings,” devotes several pages to this interesting subject, being convinced from long and careful observa- tion that many birds remain mated as long as both live. Another interesting summer resident in this region is the Savanna sparrow (Passerculus Savanna). They make their appearance in this latitude about the middle of April and remain until October. These sparrows are not so plentiful nor so generally distributed as the song or vesper sparrows, but, like certain plants, they seem to have their favorite localities to which they are much attached. There are whole townships in which SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 31 you may not find one, while other neighborhoods abound with them. They seem to prefer stretches of level country, especially newly seeded meadows. They are plentiful on Buffalo Plains and at the Driving Park, and one frequently hears them along Chapin and Bid- well Parkways. The song is something like that of the song sparrow, and may easily be mistaken for a poor effort of this species. The time and divisions of the strains are similar, but the quality of the tone 1s entirely different, the notes of the one being clear and liquid, while those of the other are thin, stridulous and insect like. If you mistake it for that of the song sparrow it will prove disappointing, and you will think it a young bird, or one having a cold. Many people call all the sparrows “ground birds,” just as they call all the little wood flowers “ violets.” This term would be appropriate for the Savanna, for it is pre-eminently a ground bird, as it feeds and nests on the ground, and remains most of the time in the grass. It seldom alights on a tree, never, as far as I have observed, amid the green foliage, but sings on the ground or from its low perch on the fence, or on a stone heap. While driving along Bidwell Parkway one day last week I had an excellent opportunity of comparing the songs of several species of sparrows, as the vespers, Hudson- ians, Savannas and song sparrows were singing and in hearing at the same time. The gramineus, four or five in number, in the elms by the roadside, were the more conspicuous, each one in turn taking a solo as another finished. Two or three melodias sang the interlude, a2 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. while the Savannas, like tinkling cymbals, and the Hudsonians, the triangles, made the accompaniment. May 1.—The purple finches, or American linnets (Carpodacus purpureus), are somewhat irregular in their spring migrations. A few usually put in an appear- ance early in March, but most of them come several weeks later. Before the leaves start, or the early trees blossom, they are just as irregular in their habits of singing. There are few birds endowed with greater musical capabilities than the linnets; yet, like other eminent artists, their singing is often variable and capri- cious. There is something very queer and interesting’ about their varied musical performances. Hidden in the leafy branches of the trees by the roadside, or near dwellings, their low warbles are as sweet and peaceful as those of the warbling vireos, which they much resemble; but, perched conspicuously on the topmost twig of a tree, they indulge in a much more ambitious carol, louder and of several bars. The two songs are so entirely different in theme and execution that one not well acquainted with their songs might easily believe them to emanate from birds of different species. Sometimes one will chant the song for an hour without moving from his perch. On the wing, and especially at mating time, these birds have a still finer song, more brilliant, vehement and rapturous. I remember one of these remarkable performances, and at its best. I heard the two or three call notes of the finches, and immediately two birds flew from a tree near which I was standing, SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 35 ~ both in fullsong. Their flight was at first downward and very rapid, but when within a few feet of the earth they began to ascend, first one above, then the other, up, up, as We may suppose the skylarks mount, all the time singing so loud and with such vehement fervor that the whole field seemed filled with melody. It was a trial of flight as well as of song; of speed and physi- cal endurance as well as of musical capabilities. The cause was soon manifest. A female sat demurely in the tree from which the others flew, evidently the prize for which so glorious a contest was carried on. When the two rivals came again in sight she joined them, and the three flew to another part of the field. The result to me was unknown, but the contest of flight and of song— how much better weapons than pistols or slander or gold! I am satisfied that in singing these different themes the birds have a particular object in view, for birds as well as men are actuated by motive. Those mentioned first, the quiet warblings, are not to attract attention, but for the singer’s own gratification. The second, one judges from the conspicuous position of the birds, are given to attract others of the family, probably in most cases the females, while the songs uttered on the wing are generally the contests of rivals. The male purple finch in full plumage is very attract- ive in appearance, having much crimson on the head, shoulders and throat, and considerable paler red on dif- ferent parts of the body. Burroughs says: “It looks as though it had been dipped in cokeberry juice,” but the color is too light for that and not uniformly enough 34. HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS. distributed. The amount. of red and the shades of it differ greatly in different individuals, but in none is it purple, as the name would indicate. Stearns says this name was erroneously applied from the faulty coloring of some early plates, but it would seem that one ought never to name a bird without knowing personally at least its physical characteristics. The young males, the first year, and sometimes the second, lack the bright markings, and are plainly clad, like the females. If not singing they may easily be mistaken for sparrows, which they considerably resemble both in color and manner of flight. The linnets are quite irregularly distributed, being _ plentiful in some neighborhoods, when there are few or none in others adjoining. Evergreens and certain fruit trees very likely have something to do with this unequal distribution, as they are partial to spruce, balsam and pine for nesting and hiding places, while the pear, cherry and hawthorn provide both vegetable and insect food. The linnets are fond of the pistils and stamens ‘of the elms; and they undoubtedly eat some of the buds and flower organs of the fruit trees, thereby incurring the enmity of many farmers, who wage an extermi- nating war upon them. If the truth could be known it would be found that they never thin out the flowers sufficiently to cause the loss of any considerable quan- tity of fruit, and that for every quart destroyed they make it possible for ten times that number of bushels to grow. So little do we appreciate the services of our friends! Last summer I visited a fruit grower whose SPRING ARRIVAL OF THE BIRDS. 3D boys were shooting the warbling vireos, supposing them to be purple finches from the resemblance of their sing- ing. I trust my explanations saved the remaining vireos, and to some extent lessened in the boys’ estima- tion the imaginary offenses of the finches. The arrival of the vivacious American gold finches is welcomed by all who lke bright color and cheerful voices. Though loaded down with scientific names, the latest, (Spinus tristes), they remain the same sunny optimists, accepting life as a boon and not a burden. Their cheerfulness is contagious and their presence seems to light up the surroundings like the sunshine. They are gems in color and proportion. Their motions are peculiarly graceful, and whether in their undulatory billowy flight, or hanging head downward from the feathery top of a pasture thistle, every movement is the very “ poetry of motion.” The other day while walking in the edge of a woods in search of the hepatica, I suddenly became conscious that a whirlwind of bright feathers and happy voices was over my head in the branches of a spreading maple. The tree had suddenly become alive with a chattering, musical foliage, more brilliant than the colored leaves that dropped from it last autumn. It was like the “talking oaks of Dodona.”’