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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

‘LOLI ‘paziunbic
| ‘HH sipg ‘YounyD snd ‘ig

EE VY
— Birp-
~ PARISHIONERS.

ST. PAULZS: PARISH,
a ue Sel idicd. 4NoY

1897,

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‘‘ The sparrow hath found her an house, and
the swallow a nest, where she may lay her
young; even thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my
King and my God.’’—Psalm 84: 3.

L. C. Childs & Son,
Printers, Lithographers and Binders,
Utica, N. Y. :

Copyright 1896
By Rev. $. B. Wicks.

TO OLD ST. PAUL’S CHURCH, PARIS HILL, VEN-
ERABLE WITH YEARS, AND HOLY WITH Sa-
CRED MEMORIES, THIS LITTLE BOOKLET
IS DEDICATED, AS A TOKEN OF THE
AUTHOR'S AFFECTION FOR THE
CHURCH OF HIS BOYHOOD,

AND OF SO MANY
OF HIS RIPER
YEARS.

—J. B. Wicks.

eer

a

Stn la iA Ne eAAD S

a T IS one thing to be an ornithologist, and

"ei, another to be a companion and lover

ee Se} «=f birds. Probably my friend, the Pas-
tor on Paris Hill, does not so much concern himself
with the scientific structure, anatomy or nomencla-
ture of his subject, in the Genus and Species, with or-
ganization or classification, whatever his knowledge
of those matters may be, as with the living, fiying,
singing creature in the air, or the grass, or the nest,
Or om the tree; the bush, or the barn: He deals,
that is, with his parishioners in the forest and field,
as he does with his parishioners in the church; he
takes them, watches them, studies them, alive. In
each of the congregations he finds songs and song-
sters; who shall say he does not find worshippers?
If he preaches to the winged things, he does only
what the great Saint Francis of Assisi did, and doubt-
less does it as well. He has been familiar with both
audiences from his babyhood, and who can wonder
that mutual confidence and sympathy have grown up

between them?

6 : PREFACE.

Apart from the charm, the instruction and the in- |
genuity of this book itself, those who read it—and
they should be many—may learn from it how much
more the world of nature about us has to give us
than most of us are apt to take or seek, what stores
of satisfying knowledge and rich delight le close at
hand, and how true it is that what we really see day
by day depends less on the objects and scenes before
our eyes than on the eyes themselves and the minds
and hearts that use them.

| F. D. HUNTINGTON.

syracuse, Nov. 29, 1896.

THE COMING OF THE BIRDS.

SARIS HILL, with all its disadvantages,

|| is Scriptural in its location, having its
commanding place where it can not be
hieee= Some .of- the early settlers: we
know, found their way to this range of hills and took
up their claims here because it was hill country.
High as the snow may pile, it never buries the hill
out of sight, and never in its passing floods the roads

and farms, or carries away the bridges that span the
rivulets which run among the hills. The winter of
1895-6, like its predecessors, has been prolific in wind
and cold, and, unlike some of them, has flung the
snow far and wide, even shaping it into huge drifts
that from a little distance can easily be mistaken for
the sand dunes of the seashore. Several months of
this piling and shaping easily gives the snow hills not
only place but character. Inour little village during
the past winter the architect and builder of the white
drifts has been the west wind. The other breezes
have simply played a little here and there, but with

= MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

no perceptible influence. From the west towards the
east the palaces of glistening crystal have risen slowly
until they seem a part of the hamlet itself.

Out into the park, from the open space south of
Graham’s store, is the drift easily first among the’
many. Below it, onthe same side of the village, are
its fellows, like the outlying bastions of some great
fort, leading one to think that the wind shapes all its
creations after some well-considered design.. The
curious feature, however, 1s the fact that each drift
folds itself about house and church as though its
mission was to keep and defend. The Congrega-
tional session room is buttressed far up above the
door, and to seek its cozy aisles is to press through
the narrow, if not straight, way. It may be fancy,
but to me there is the Frost-King, ruling in the
realm of snow and ice, sending out his frost and cold,
blowing with his great winds and building his houses
that glisten in the sunlight, like the fabled creations
of the Arabian Nights. All of it tothe devout soul is
redolent with the sentiment of the old hymn:
“Bless ye the Lord! Praise Him and magnify Him
forever!”

But the day of the snow passes, and the spring
time is given place. Our first day of real freedom
came the 30th of March. Inthe early morning the
sky was lighted by a few flashes of electricity, and a

“a

THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. 9

little later the first birds told the story we had all
been waiting so long to hear. Theclear note of the
robin welcomed the rising sun. No other birds ap-
peared, but it was all the same to robin.
He went on cheerily, doing his best. What
a brusque fellow he is! How the spring air,
or something else, seems to thrill every nerve
in robin’s body with new, stirring life! It may be
he has some idea of the work that lies before him
and prepares for it in a few days of wild, rollicking
fun. Several of them have looked in upon me to-
day. They all come with a whirring rush, ringing
out their sharp note and jerking their little bodies
as though life was all to be lived in a moment. If
there were only some way of interviewing the dap-
per fellows what stories of adventure they would un-
fold! Iremember seeing a company of these birds
spending the winter in the far southwest. They had
laid aside all the domestic quietness which marks
their summer demeanor at the north, and roamed
about as happy as a company of school boys out for
a long vacation. Inthe entire year robin devotes
but two or three months to housekeeping. During
that time he is a changed being. Just the day it is
all settled how and where to begin thesummer work,
the free-lance character disappears and the pair,
newly mated, take up the sober duties of life. All

LO MY BIRD. PARTSHIOCNERS.

the birds are of one kin in this, and so seem not
very far removed from their brethren of nature hu-
man.

Just a day later than the robins, the meadow-
larks and bluebirds appeared, and on the next day
the sparrows came trooping in. Some of the details
of this annual migration of the birds we know, but
the hidden part is vastly larger than the part re-
vealed. They go from us—myriads of them—and
almost all we know of it 1s the void they leave be-
hind. They come again, as they are now coming,
and we hardly know more of their coming than that
they have come. ‘The night closes in upon us clear,
with the snow rapidly melting—not a bird in sight
or sound. The morning dawns, and the dwellers of
an entire county are saluted with the matins of
legions of the feathered songsters. There is reason
for believing that the great host is marshalled with
some regard for order. ‘They come with the effi-
ciency and precision of a well-ordered army. Appa-
rently they occupy several degrees of latitude at one
stroke, and when once they have taken possession,
in some way, they seem quite oblivious to everything
but just the cheer of living. For days they go to
and fro, seemingly the freest among the free; but
all the time the spirit of business is inciting them.
The free movement, the rapid flight, and the stirring

ms

THE COMING OF THE BIRDS. oe

notes, are strains of the nuptial song that eventu-
ally domiciles an unnumbered host of merry house-
keepers in all our groves and fields. How little of
this great hive of song and work, of cheeriest, sweet-
est life we ever see. All the year, from the earliest
spring time to the coming of the snow in the fall,
this wealth of bird-life is in our very midst. It is
the open book of our wide hills and vales, and it is
the purpose of the writer of this article, from time to
time, to turn the pages of this book that all may see
and enjoy with him the story of the freest, merriest
dwellers of our favored land.

THE PARIS BERKSHIRE.

Il.

Snow and cold have given quite a chill to our
April air. The birds have made a note of the fact
and apparently fitted their song to the changed con-
ditions. ‘The soberer notes, however, have the ring
of spring life in them, and to the ear that is really
open to Mother Nature’s sounds, are full of the rich-
est music. One of our winter denizens —and sum-
mer denizens too—never seems to make any differ-
ence in the song he sings; that is, it always appears
to have about the same amount of cheer in it. Per-
haps that is a part of the reason why one of our
most prominent localities has been named after this
bird of black—“ Crow Hill.” By the way, I learn
from articles published, that this same Crow Hill is
to become the summer home of some of our Utica
friends. The writer has known the locality from
boyhood and can testify to its attractions. Fora
summer home it can not be excelled. The view in
any direction to the north and west, is simply mag-
nificent. The strange thing about it is that it has
not been sought as a summer resort long ere this.

a

THE PARTS BEKRKSHIRE, 13

It is the northern spur of the range of hills which
extend to the southward and culminate in Tassel.
Hill, near Waterville, the highest point in southern
Oneida. A mile to the southeast of Crow Hillis a
prominent point known as Smith Hill. In part, it
overlooks the former, and fairly rivals it in its wide
sweep of vision. It commands the same broad ex-
panse of the Mohawk valley and of the western hills,
with a more extensive view of the high country be-
yond Sauquoit. Itis a well wooded summit, with
some fine springs along its western slope. Chad-.
wicks, on the D., L. & W., lies almost under its east-
ern side, two miles away. Still farther to the south
is a hill somewhat lower, that has long been noted
for its extremely fine view. Captain John Wicks,
one of Paris’ pioneers, found this spot to his hking
and for many years made it justly celebrated for his
courtly sailor hospitality. Southward from this point,
along both slopes of the range, the outlook varies as
the hills bend outward into the valley or shrink away
into the heart of the range.

Just at the foot of Tassel Hill, a few hundred yards
from the Paris station, Mr. Russell H. Wicks, of
Utica, has hissummer cottage. Itstands in a maple
grove looking toward the sunrise. Its view among
the hills of the range cannot be surpassed. Not far
away in the years, the writer fancies, the electrics will

14 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

spin along this elevated plateau, and cottages will be
dropped here and there over the entire slope. The
Massachusetts’ cities have utilized their surroundings
in this way, notably Pittsfield, Springfield and Wor-
cester, and have found by experience that it is
the most satisfactory and inexpensive way ofsecuring
a summer outing. Of course the lake scenery andits
pastime of boating and fishing are wanting in this
Paris-Berkshire ; but onthe other hand the little ones —
may ramble and play far and near, and the fond
mothers have no concern regarding their entire safety
from all peril of cliff or of pond. The summer
breezes of the Paris hills are famous for their invigor-
ating healthfulness, and the streams that find their
way down the sloping sides sparkle in the sunlight__
the best “ free silver coinage ” the writer knows. |
Cradled on the very summit of the range, east of
Paris village a little distanee, lies a marshy tract cov-
ered more or less densely with pine, fir and cedar
growth. Undoubtedly in some eon far away a beauti-
ful sheet of water, like the crescent moon, reached out
and clasped the village site in its sparkling embrace.
Prof. Root, of Hamilton college,—the first bearing
that honored name in those classic halls—explored
all the recesses of the hill swamp. It was an experi-
ence of the writer’s boyhood to accompany the pro-
fessor on several expeditions, and to have often

a

THE PARTS BERKSAIRE. 15

heard him say that “there was no place in the wide
range of his knowledge that grew such a great variety
of plants as the Paris swamp.” In its deeper re-
cesses is found the white cyprepedium, the moccasin
flower or lady-slipper of the country side. I think he
told me he found this flower nowhere else in this part
of the state. The writer has never seen it in any
other locality. Last summer our closest researches
only revealed two or threespecimens. Several other
flowers of the orchid family are found here, also the
pitcher plant, and just at the edge of the hard land
mee tanian Pipe.” The-bird lifé is varied, as_it is
in all this region. The one song of the Hermit
Thrush, however, is the unrivaled melody of these
leafy aisles. Mr. Burroughs is surely interpreting
nature rightly when he says: “The song of the
Hermit Thrush is the spiritual song among the birds.”
The old Moyer road intersects the swamp on its
southern border, or rather finds its way through where
a narrow neck of hard land extends nearly across the
marsh. ‘Tradition says that a division of General
Sullivan’s army passed over this point, and that some
of the logs with which he bridged the low ground are
yet sound and intact, forming the foundation of the
road bed. Before the whites came the road was the
Indian trail from the Mohawk below Utica, directly
through to Oneida lake.

16 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

Farther over on the eastern slope, north of what
is now known as the Frederick Simmons’ farm, there
is a wide sweep of hillside mostly wooded, that
reaches to the vicinity of Smith’s Hill above noted.
This extensive tract is seamed with deep ravines
which open down into the Sauquoit valley, each the
home of an old time trout brook. The writer well —
remembers when the virgin-forest covered all this
region with atimber growth that betokens the richest
of soils, as well as the favorite home of the wild birds
and animals. ‘The animalshave mostly disappeared,
but the birds still find their way to this favored spot,
in great numbers. The spring carpet is so spangled
with wild flowers that it seems the reflection of the
brilliant plumage of the songsters flashing through
the trees. Here a little later we shall ae
thrushes, warblers, indigo birds, rose breasted gross-
beaks and many others. In this connection it is
curious how the birds seem to arrange for their
summer campaign. Feathered neighborliness is with
rule and without rule. In the open fields, the
species keep to their appointed places and I judge
this plan obtains in the woods. Ifa family of robins
nest in my yard there may be several nests of other
species, but no more robins on that acre. Part of
the reason for this undoubtedly is the fact that
families of different species use different food. ‘The

THE PARIS BERKSHIRE, 17

same pasture presents the variety and the birds
know how to take advantage of it. Birds of long
flight, like the wild pigeon, can easily nest together
and seek their food over an entire state. All birds
nest at the when and where of a plentiful supply of
food for their young. This time would seem to be
the bright summer tide, in every case; but there
are birds which build their nests and rear their
young In midwinter. | |

One of the family of finches which some times
pays us a visit, nests in the northern forests in the
-winter. It finds the food for its young nicely stored
in the great trees, and never fails of having a large
supply. On the morning of Aprilo, the grackle
and song-sparrow made their first bow in my yard,
and seemed so perfectly at home that I could hardly
realize that six months had passed since our last in-
terview. Mr. Grackle threw down the gauntlet to
Mr. Robin, and was met half way, just as they sa-
luted each other a year ago. The story of the
battle and the outcome will find its place in another

paper.

SWAMP LIFE.

a

A bright, sunny morning full of April cheer, easily
led my steps to the large wood and swamp just east —
of Paris Hill. A sharp frost the previous night had
macadamized the deep snow that lay like a carpet
over the entire ground, and I found no difficulty in
threading the leafy aisles with ease and comfort. The
early comers among the birds find this thicket of
evergreen to their liking. Just at the door of the
wood, the slope down from the village was alive
with robins. As far as I could trace the bare sur-
face skirting the swamp-side, the birds were flying,
running, and uttering their sharp call as though all
their welfare hung upon the moments then passing.
There were hundreds of them, and nearly all that I
saw were male birds. Perhaps part of the activity
under my eye was the offspring of the joy that dwelis
in all hearts in the spring time, and part the ebb and
flow of the tide of life that in a few days would dot
all the land withhappy robin homes. Seated on the
old worm fence that I had known from boyhood, I
tried for a little time to catch the import of robin’s

" SWAMP LIFE. 19

call. If I understood it at all there was a sharp,
quick word of wild joy and another of alarm that
varied slightly from the former. Then a rattling fire
of sounds that seemed at times a challenge to bat—
tle, or a call to competition in a short, rapid flight.
On the topmost bough of the tree near by one was
pouring forth the notes of a full song, which curious.
ly enough is interpreted in various ways, sometimes
termed the rain song and again the greeting of the
morning, or the salutation to the mate. At this
particular time I fancied that a little of the music
was in honor of the guest, all uninvited, but appre—
ciated. Suddenly, as though all were animated by
one spirit, the entire flock, with voices high pitched,
scurried away to a bold point beyond the southern
trend of the swamp. On from my fence seat, the
way was over the high snow-banks that the west wind
had sifted among the cedars Hard and _ firm, the
path in any direction was almost in the tops of
the trees. Descending toward the heart of the denser
growth, [ left the drifts behind, and found the carpet
of white almost a yard in thickness over the entire
surface. Here there was a hearty hand shake ex-
tended to me by the chickadees and wood-peckers.
The former are always ready with their greeting. Al-
most always—winter and summer alike—a little bevy
of half a dozen, more or less, will meet me at the

20 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

very door of the wood, and, though my stroll be long
or short, they keep within sound and are the very
last of the forest dwellers to say good-bye.

What busy fellows they are, scarcely ever still for
amoment. I have a notion that they are adepts in
mingling play and work. Just at the far border of
the swamp I discovered the home of a pair of chicka-
dees. A little above my reach they had bored into
a convenient tree, and were ready for the summer
house-keeping. The woodpeckers and chickadees
stay with us through the winter. ‘Their storehouse
of food is very nicely arranged for them. I opened
the door of one in an open reach of the swamp and
found it well stocked, though its supply had been
drawn upon extensively. Curious how Mother Na-
ture cares for her children. Here was a tamarack
that in its dead and half decayed state was occupied
by a large number of insects. Snugly folded away
beneath the bark and in the wood, they waited the
touch of the summer breezes to spring into a new
and richer life. The birds had gone up and down the
slender boll of the tree, and only here and there had
a dweller escaped them. Whether there isany chance
here for the survival of the fittest among the insects, ©
I have no means of telling.

A little farther on I came upon the winter road of
the lumberman, and the opening here and there told

a

SWAMP LIFE. 21

of many a fine tree missing. I know the wants of
man demand the trees, and that they must -be sup-
plied, but I do not enjoy the disfiguring of the fa-
miliar wood-haunts, and I fancy my friends, the birds
and animals, do not like it. In one of the little clear-
ings the crows were holding a council—a _ political
convention it may have been for aught I know. At
all events it was a wordy time in crow farlance.
«‘ All at once,’ seemed to be the rule governing the
speakers, and “Loud and long” was another rule
equally prominent. So intent were they concerning
their special business, that contrary to the usual way,
I was almost in the open space before they knew of
my approach. The instant, however, of the discovery
every crow was in motion with voice and wings. Not
one stayed upon the “ order of his going,” and I scon
had the hall of the woods left entirely to my use.
One of the trees that had been cut away was asso-
ciated with an experience of mine some years ago. I
had discovered a hawk’s nest snugly located in the
thickest part of the tree, and a short acquaintance
with the old birds uncovered peculiarities of charac-
ter well worth noting. I was sitting- near the nest one
day watching the family so busy with home duties
that I received not so muchas a gleam of notice.
The mother bird was feeding and caressing the young
ones, and for an hour or more the male bird had not

Be MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

been in sight. A little company of crows were for-
aging in an open pasture on the old Moshier hillside.
I heard them calling to each other, and soon the —
heavy flapping of wings announced their presence at
the very door of our hawk’s humble abode. One
sable fellow carelessly blundered right into the nest.
He had hardly touched it, however, when the male >
bird, with a sharp cry, darted forth from his hidden
lookout, and at the first stroke tumbled the fright-
ened crow fairly to the ground. ‘The second stroke
followed the first so quickly that the poor crow had
time only to trundle away into the bushes, harrassed
at every turn by the angry hawk. ‘The hurried
movement and awkward cries of the thoroughly
frightened crow formed a most ludicrous scene, and
I fancied that the crow spectators rather enjoyed
their fellow’s discomfiture. |
Finding my way along the wood road I came to
the open side of the swamp, all nicely screened from
the cool wind and flooded with the morning sun-
shine. ‘The song sparrows had gathered here in
great numbers. Every bush held one or more, and,
of course, every bush was bubbling over with music.
Occasionally I caught the plaintive note of the wood-
pewee, but the concert was almost entirely sparrows’
own. I could detect three or four kinds, but the
field or vesper sparrow predominated. Among the

a

SAME ELLE 23

notes of the open fields vesper has the honor of
shaping the first and best. Like all other music,
however, it is at its best when in its home place.
- In an old hillside pasture, just as the day closes, one
gets the vesper song, clear, full, and at its sweetest
strain. Sometimes a dozen singers will vie together
as though it were their large duty to welcome the
advent of darkness. I have heard the song when
the darkness was too dense to discover the singer.

Vesper is identified by the place he makes his
home, as readily as by his song. After the season
is fairly open he is found almost entirely in the fields.
Another index to his species is the two white lateral
tail feathers conspicuously displayed as he flies di-
rectly from one. The nest is usually tucked away
in some convenient bank or a cavity hollowed in a
rich meadow sward. ‘The coarser grass serves for
the framework, but the lining is of finer threads
which the birds weave into shape with skill and dis-
patch. I know of no sound more quietly domestic
than the sweet song of the vesper sparrow, just as
the summer day is softly folded into night. One
can easily fancy it the tender soul greeting of the
spirit of the day, sung to the merry nymphs that
sport and joy in the gloaming.

WOODPECKERS.

Tey,

There is reason for believing that the birds are
unusually numerous this season. Several kinds have
shown their numbers largely beyond any year that
I now remember. It may be that the supply of food
is larger. More food, more birds. The earth worms
in lawn and garden are most abundant and some
kinds of insects’ eggs, I notice, are plentiful. Robins,
sparrows, larks and woodpeckers feast on the worms
and insects, and are the kinds which swarm in our
fields and groves. The common bluebird hardly
seems represented. JI have seen only one pair this
spring. ‘The meadow larks are on duty in large
numbers. They come into the trees of my yard
and wind out their long, plaintive notes almost every
day. ‘This bird is an active, interesting fellow. His
favorite position is the top of some tall tree standing
out alone in the field. Frequently, as he runs be-
fore me in the grass, I discover a likeness to the
quail. His nest is hardly more than a slight hollow
in the ground, made habitable by a meager lining of
grass and leaves. Their flight is heavy, though

“x

WOODPECKERS. 25.

sometimes swift, and as they flutter down to the
ground one is reminded of the bobolink. The male
and female are quite similar in appearance, being
mottled with brown and fawn color upon the head,
back and wings, while the chin and breast are a
_ bright yellow, the throat being crossed with a broad
crescent shaped band of velvety black.

Of the woodpecker species, I have seen more of
the yellow hammer than I have in many seasons be-
fore. This bird, though essentially of the wood-
pecker family, differs from them in finding part of its
food on the ground. His list of localnames isa long one.
Besides the one named above he 1s called * flicker,”
“ yucker,” “ highhole,” “ wood robin” and “ yellow
winged woodpecker.” Years ago I found the nest
of this bird only in the large forest trees. Latterly
I notice he enjoys the fields more. Inthe long rows
of maples on the Waterville road he is quite at home.
He is not so particular as some of the other mem-
bers of his family about boring into the decayed
limbs of the trees for his nesting place. With his
strong bill he easily shapes his house in the hard oak
or maple hmb, and once domiciled, is secure from
most of his enemies. I know of no other bird that
seems to enjoy the spring time with a richer relish
than the yellow hammer. His peculiar but not un-
pleasant call rings out over the fields and through the

26 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

woods like a bugle note. A part of his cheerier
pastime is found far up on the great limbs of a tall
tree, in what appears to be a genuine bird game of
hide and seek. It is surprising with what celerity
he will dart up and down and around the tree. He
has the advantage of the squirrel in the aid of his
strong wings and sharp claws which adapt themselves
readily to every change of position.

One can easily determine the bird, not only by his
call, but by his bright yellow color, also by the wavy
motion of flight, and the large white spot displayed
conspicuously on his back as he_ passes rapidly
through the air.

Another member of the woodpecker family—the
red-headed variety—seems to be disappearing.
Formerly they were quite plentiful, numerous speci-
mens being seen each season. This bird is justly
celebrated for its brilliant plumage. The head and
upper part of the neck are of a deep crimson, set off
below by pure white, and above by a glossy steel
blue. His natural foodis insects, but he dearly loves
different kinds of fruit, and is not at all averse to a
feast of tender green corn In my boyhood the oid
farm had its row of cherry trees extending along the
roadside well down to the great wood. Redhead
levied tribute on the fruit, and almost all the first
ripening were marketed by him. How easily and

=

WOODPECKERS. 27

gracefully he would curve his way from the great
maples, and what an insatiable appetife for.the lus-
cious red cherries he brought with him! A little
later we watched the members of the family as they
took their first lessons in flying. Many atumble and
_ curve not laid down in the experience of the older
birds marked the first efforts of the young learners.
Very soon, however, they were adepts in the science,
and, we noticed, were almost certain to make the first
long flight to the old farm cherry trees.

Of the smaller varieties of this species we havethe
yellow breasted woodpecker and the downy wood-
pecker, or sap-sucker, as he is sometimes called.
The yellow breasted is the larger, and like the red-
head, seems to be disappearing in this’ section.
Downy, while not as active as the larger kinds, is a
favorite with most bird lovers. He rarely indulges in
a long flight, and apparently takes little or no notice
of visitors. It is an interesting scene in forest life to
note the work done by this little fellowin the passing
hour. A whirr of wings and he flashes by from some high
point that he has reached on a neighboring tree, and
alighting near the foot of a tall trunk, begins his
search for the eggs and insects hidden there. Round
and round he goes, looking into every cranny and
crevice, working slowly up towards the top of the
tree. Sometimes he hangs head downward under a

28 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

limb and ever and anon utters his peculiar note,
which among all that I hear from the birds seems the
richest in real contentment. I have known one a
full hour in feeding over the pasture of a large tree.
Sap-sucker, in his quiet way and cherry, patient note,
is the bird of the forest. Dressed in his suit of gray, .
he harmonizes well with the color of the great tree
trunks, and some way the single note of his homely
song sounds like the breathing of the trees when the
- wind is playing through them on a quiet summer day.
The larger member of the woodpecker family is found
in the south and west. Heis known as the ivory-bill
and is truly a noble bird. His favorite resort 1s the
tall pines and cypress of the vast swamps of the
southwest. Wilson says: ‘‘Wherever he frequents
he leaves numerous monuments of his industry be-
hind him. We there see enormous pine trees with
cart loads of bark lying around their roots, and chips
of the trunk itself, in such quantities as to suggest
the idea that halfa dozen-ax men had been at work
there for the whole morning.” I have seen the bird
in his native haunts. and remarked the power with
which he did his work. I never saw the nest, but am
told that it is usually in a large cypress or cotton-
wood tree. The plumage ofthis birdis mostly black,
with slight shadings of blue. The head is surmounted
by a crest of long flowing plumes, those falling over

a

WOCDPECKE RS. 29

the forehead of ajetty black, while those of the hinder
part are a brilliant crimson. The Indians made use
of the brighter feathers for some of their decorations,
and the smooth ivory-bill enters into the mysteries of
the medicine man’s incantations. Like his northern
brethren, ivory-bill has no gleam of the instinct of
migration in his nature. With the entire family food
is plentiful, winter and summer alike, so they simply
eat, drink and are merry, after the fashion of birds,
which, like the “laws of the Medes and Persians,” is
a fashion that alters not as the years come and go.

HAWKS.

v-

Occasionally we have the beautiful sight of a large
number of hawks sailing high in the air, apparently
taking a spring pastime. This morning while at
work in my garden, I heard the peculiar cry of the
hen-hawk repeated many times. It came down
from far above me, and I soon located the place.
Directly over my head, perhaps a mile high, several
great birds were circling slowly through the air in
broad sweeps, moving from right to left, steadily
passing toward the west. It certainly was the morn-
ing play of the birds, and never, at any other time
of the day quite so striking and beautiful. The sun
- had not yet risen to me, but from the hawks, as they
turned gracefully and without apparent motion of
the wings, there was the flash of gold as from the
surface of a great shield. I watched them several
minutes before the sun was lifted into sight from
where I stood. I never watch this movement of
our great soaring birds without seeing new wonders
init. Itis only the largest of our birds that can
indulge in the recreation. ‘Their large, but won-

HAWKS. 31

derfully muscular and strong bodies are given the
expanse of wing that when spread in the upper air
seems to support the bird without any apparent ef-
fort on his part. I have watched closely with a

glass for many minutes at a time, and never detected
the least sign of a vertical movement of the wings.
The flight of the birds—of any of them—is always a
profound mystery to me, but this soaring of the
hawks is mystery of mystery. Some think that at
that high elevation there is a strong wind blowing
steadily so that the bird has only to set in position
and keep there the broad expanse of wing, and sail
the ocean of air as the ship sails the ocean of water.

I have a fancy that this only half reveals the se-
cret of the art, but the hidden portion I can not
uncover. In fact, I enjoy the scene of the flight all
the more for having the details largely veiled. But
be that as it may, the soaring of the great birds far
up in the blue dome is a vision of beauty. Each
describes the arc of his own circle, but to the be-
holder they seem to intersect and cross each other
in bewildering succession. Very likely the birds
are quite a distance apart, though to one standing
below them, they appear to be on the same plane.
Now and then the coterie I was watching would
indulge in a series of aerial evolutions that would
throw all the ordinary movements to the winds. By

32 MY BIRD PA RISHIONERS.

just a single motion, the bird would leave the cir-
cling sweep, and dart, with incredible celerity, down
through the great blue fields of air, until it seemed
impossible for any ordinary strength to stay the
flight. Aslight movement of wing or body, however,
would change the direction into a broad curve up-
ward until nearly all the original height would be
gained, which a few strokes of the great wings would
complete, and the bird take his place with his fel-
lows, cleaving the air quietly again as though noth-
ing unusual had happened. Sometimes two or more
of the hawks would make these side movements to-
gether. Then the play would wax furious, and only
the largest space would suffice for such marvelous
sweeps of the great birds. For an hour or more
they sailed and gamboled in my sight, then slowly
faded from view far over toward College Hill. Iam
told that there are days in the fall of the year when
the hawks assemble in such numbers that they are
termed “ hawk days.”’ It 1s a new feature in the
country side which I have not personally observed.

The hawk is the freebooter of the birds. Like Ish-
mael among his fellows, his hand is against every
man and every man’s hand against him. There are
many varieties of this bird ranging in size from the
little sparrow-hawk to the large hen-hawk. Of the
larger size I do not observe as many as formerly,

Nini: nigel anaes nding ee ee ee ee eee

HAWKS. 33

though the smaller seem as numerous as ever. In
the southwest, on the plains, I noticed several vari-
eties not known in the east. One with the plumage
nearly white was a handsome bird of the size of our

large pigeon-hawk. The family on the great prairies
conform nicely to the conditions, tucking their nests
away in the crevices of the sides of the great canons
which everywhere seam those vast plains. The nests_
of our species are placed in trees, and appear at a lit-
tle distance like large bunches of fine sticks thrown
together without much regard for order. Of neces-
sity, there can be but little neatness in such a house,
fed as the young are, with all kinds of small birds and ~
animals.

The most active of the family that harbors with
us is the pigeon-hawk. He bears several names,
perhaps a confounding of varieties in the catalogue,
such as American-hawk, sharp-skinned hawk, long-
tailed hawk and others. He is easily distinguished;
however, by his rapid flight, and by the unusual
length of the tail. The movement of this bird on the
wing is like the rapid flight of the arrow. I have seen
him secure birds of most of the smaller species in
fair open flight. Frequently I have known him to
pay a visit to the old farm, coming into the yard with
the rush peculiar to his movements. Instantly all
was commotion. The barnyard fowls betook them-

34 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

selves to the sheds and secure places, but the poor
doves fared harder. Sometimes before they could
hide safely or secure protection in flight, one would
fall into the talons of the bold depredator. It is not
often, however, that the hawk will take the great
risk of an attack on the farmyard. His hunting
grounds usually are in safer places. It isa lesson in
cunning and skill which the bird illustrates as he
hunts in the open field. 1 have seen him hanging
over a meadow searching with keen eye every inch of
the grassy surface. Suddenly he would drop as the
stone falls, and, striking the ground witha sharp thud,
would arise almost instantly with some luckless
mouse securely trapped in his strong talons.

There is in country places much prejudice still ex-
isting against the entire family of hawks. Doubiless
it is quite natural, as the birds of this species do
feast now and then on the best chickens the farmer
can furnish, and otherwise present traits of character
which are not pleasant to contemplate, still they fill
a place in the economy of Mother Nature's large
household, which is of vast benefit to the tiller of the
soil. A very large portion of the food of the hawk
consists of vermin of all kinds, so that it may be truly
said of him that he is an important scavenger of the
fields which can not be spared. We can well afford
to spread his table occasionally with choicer viands

LC TTAWES. 35

than he is accustomed to have. Perhaps we can
term such treatment a just return for many services
which he unconsciously renders to the lords of crea-
tion ; and would it not be a nice influence to throw
around our boys, teaching them the blessed reciproc-
ity of good for good, even to the action which seems
a return of good for that which lifts its head and
looks like evil ? ©

BOBOLINK.

ie 2

Bobolink saluted us first on the morning of the
4th of May. The old rule of the country-side,
“that bobolink appears with the first dandelion ” has
proven faulty this year. The dandelion had been in
blossom more than a week when the bird gave notice
that he was on summer duty again. I had been on
the watch for him each morning, and more than once
fancied the rollicking notes of his song were tumb-
ling all around me. Watching for the singer, how-
ever, did not empty the coming entirely of the ele-
ment of surprise, nor detract in the slightest degree
from the ripple and rush of this “ anthem of the
meadows.” Formerly, as now, this bird seemed to
study the effect of his advent. Working in my gar-
den, with many a moment given to watching that
splendid vision of “ the new heavens and new earth,”
-bobolink comes like a spirit of the morning and my
first salutation is the glad song poured down upon me
from the leafy coverts of the nearest tree top.

This year and last he found his place in the wav-
ing branches of a tall birch and the first note of his

BOBOLINK. 37

song—that liquid, smooth flowing note—stopped all
work and there was no renewal of the toil until the
singer had responded to at least three encores. Each
species of our spring and summer birds seems to
_ represent some part or phase of nature. The bobo-
link belengs to the meadows. His song is spangled
like the meadows. It ripples and waves and tumbles
as the grass does in the summer breeze. And the
bird seems to have gotten all this imbedded in his
very flight. Song and flight appear to be of one
mind and heart. Most of our birds sing when
perched in some fine place, and have hardly more
than a single note to dispense when on the wing,
but bobolink is the same free, joyous singer whether
sitting or flying. I am utterly at a loss to know how
the rush of merry notes finds place in that trim little
black throat. I have known many attempts made to
_ put the song in the black and white of the musical
scale, but I have never heard voice or instrument
that could render it as the bird does. It is a melody
of most pleasing sounds which simply defies descrip-
tion. Tome it is the heari of the meadows enriched
with sunshine and balmy air—the lush grass and per-
fume of flowers, the dews and rains and the very
essence of the melody of the other field birds.
Bobolink has made some progress in civilization.

He has his Florida where he spends his winters, and
4

38 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

the gentlemen of the tribe change the color if not
the fashion of their dress twice during the year. For
at least six weeks after the spring arrival the male
bird pours out his unrivaled notes, then suddenly
drops his hilarity and becomes the soberest of house-
keepers. When caring for the young the parent
birds utter almost precisely the same note, and so far
as I have observed, share equally in the home duties.
About the last of August the old and young birds
gather in great flocks—all now of the same color—
and after a few days of merry sporting in the hedge-
rows and fields, take up their journey toward the
winter home. It is largely a mystery this journeying.
When it begins, by what route it is prosecuted, whether
by long or by short stages, who knows? I havea notion
that a portion of the flight is so high in the air that the
naked eye can not reach the travelers, and also that
the clear moonlight nights are pressed into service
in forwarding the journey, but whether by night or
by day, by easy or by lony stages, they come in large
numbers to the first stopping place among the great
reed marshes of Pennsylvania.

Here they frolic and feast until they attain to
double the size of the bird we know in the northern
meadows. ‘Thousands aretrapped and shot, and the
flesh is considered the great delicacy of the season.
From here they complete the journey, and we find

BOBOLIN EK. 39

them a little later snugly domiciled in the rice fields
of the far south. No one would imagine that our
singer was hidden under the brown coat of one of
these rice gormandizers, but there he is and except
the common chirp of his species, makes no sound.
All winter long he feasts and plays right in the very
heart of the sunny south, and never opens his mouth
to utter the semblance of one of his bubbling notes.
Just why a new coat should loosen his tongue in song
IT can not tell—in fact I do not believe it does. What
an old farmer friend of mine—dead and gone now
—called the “glorious bursting forth of our spring-
time’’ seems to set the songs free. Then of course
there is mixed with this the influence of that nuptial
chant which is the “light on our land and sea” in
the glad springtime.

Bobolink has a heart, and he uses it, too, and
when he falls to loving he falls to singing, like many
a swain of other name and nature. But even with
all the influences counted that we can reach, I
can not understand why for ten or eleven months of
the year he should be silent, only trilling his glad
song a meager six weeks out of the fifty-two. His
favorite resort is some meadow hillside sloping to
the east, flanked by anold apple orchard. A bough
of the apple tree, or some large stone out in the
field, is the resting spot from which he tells of the

40 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

joy that thrills him. The nest, like that of the other
ground birds, is securely lodged in some slight cavity
of the meadow surface. He shows some skill and
taste in construction, though these are evidently sec-
ondary in bobolink’s idea of architecture. |

The young don the sober winter attire of the
parent birds, and make no change until the follow-
ing spring brings them to their northern homes.
Years ago an uncle of mine, of scientific turn of mind,
conceived the idea that the bobolink not only
changed the color of his plumage, but also the fibre

of his character. His theory was that our snow |

buntings were bobolinks masquerading under their
white waistcoats during the winter months, easily
turning back to the old brown and black when the
springtime came. He captured some of the bunt-
ings and kept them through the year, and while his
knowledge was increased by his experience, one of
his pet theories was entirely dissipated. Irving, in
his celebrated article telling bobolink’s qualities,
good and bad, writes that in his freedom and glad-
ness of song, he was the envy of every school boy
for miles around. Surely our author might have
written that the merry singer moved to envy a much
wider field of hearts. Certainly admiration and de-
light follow him, wherever he goes, when he is really
at his best.

ee

BOBOLINK, : 41

His welcome has not even a gleam of anything
narrow and selfish init. He sings all there is of
him into his song. He makes it a voice cheerily in-
terpreting the great meadow nature of our hills and
vales. He makes it all laugh and sing, and we
laugh and sing with him.

THE SWALLOW.

WIT.

The different species of summer birds, with the
exception of one or two kinds are all present in their
northern haunts, (May 18th). The cuckoo and the wax-
wing, and possibly some of the wood birds, have not
yet arrived. ‘The swallow family is in its place, and
active, as it always is. We have three species of
the true swallows,—the barn, cliff and eave swallows.
The bird usually termed the chimney swallow does
not belong to the swallow family, but is closely
allied to the swift or night-hawk species. Songless
as this large family is, still they are by no means
unattractive. They are given the almost faultless
grace of flight. Their place of beauty is on the
wing, and it is only at rare intervals that they are
found at rest during the day time. The barn swal-
low fastens his nest in some convenient place high
up among the rafters of the old barn. He skillfully
commands the mud of the roadway, dried grass, and
the tiny feathers of the farm yard, and with many a
deft swallow touch, shapes them all into a bird-house
of no little strength and beauty. The old time

=

THE SWALLOW. 43

barns were made with the swallow hole cut in the end
high up near the point of the roof. In and out of
these openings the birds would dart the livelong day,
‘and not seldom wouldthe boy, hot and dusty, tramp-
Ing hay in the great mows, envy the swallow’s glad,
free life. The song of this bird is hardly more than
a gentle twitter, uttered usually, when sitting at rest.
Most of the swallow’s flight is sobered with work,
though now and then I think it is lifted into pas-
time. Anyone who has seen a little company of
these birds on a bright summer evening taking their
daily bath, will understand what I mean. Just at
the corner of the wood which covers Smith Hill all
down its southern slope, is cradled a iitle pond.
One of the delights of my boyhood was the swim.
ming parties which gathered here on the warm sum-
mer evenings. Often I would precede the boys .an
hour or more, and from a cozy nook of the wood
side, watch the swallows as they came in troops of
a dozen or more to their daily ablutions. With
what grace they would curve down from the hills
on either side, and sweep along the surface of the
water! Now and then the wings would dip like oars,
and anon the body would drop below the surface for
an instant, and then emerge, scattering the water in
pearly drops far and wide. Over and over the bath
would be repeated, and the birds would hie away to

AA MY: BIRD PARISHIONERS.

the great barn, their little bodies glistening lke
blades of grass polished with the morning dew.

The eave swallow differs from the barn swallow in
many ways. They are easily distinguished by the
whiter breasts and by the shorter and squarer tail.
Years ago this branch of the family was largely rep-
resented here. Some of the large barns were
thronged by hundreds of the birds. At Harvey
Head’s they found a nesting place to their lhking.
All along under the eaves of the barn, the nests were
crowded like so many ant hills, thrust into place ©
with an opening left just at the top. When the
nests were building the birds came and went in a
stream that flowed without ceasing all day long.
The craft of the mason was called into vogue, and
the house firmly, if not handsomely built. When
completed, and the mothers’ “at home ” fully estab-
lished, it was quite a social scene. The callers, I
expect, were the happy husbands of the many wives,
and though the coming and going were unbroken ©
all the day, there seemed to be no confusion or lack
of bird courtesy anywhere. It was a happy family,
and the farmer above named found happiness in the
birds’ happiness. He _ provided a shelf nicely
adapted to the birds’ wants, and they repaid him a
hundred fold in clearing the farm of troublesome
insects. I am told that these swallows have dis-

THE SWALLOW. 45

appeared from their former haunts, and one asks the
question, ‘“‘ Where have they gone?” The farmer
ought to ask it and press it to an answer pretty
strongly. If the why of absence can be reached
and removed, it surely ought to be done. My own
opinion is that it is one of those movements of birds
brought about by a variety of causes, for some of
which man is to blame, that will be removed eventu-
ally, and the birds find their way to the old homes
again.

The cliff swallow seems to differ but little from
the eave swallow. Naturalists, I believe, class them
as one family ; still 1t seems to me there Is a distinc-
tion. The nests of the cliff swallow are formed in a
cliff or bank of sand. A hole is bored horizontally
for several inches, then widened to sufficient size for
the nest. It forms a very safe retreat from the birds’
many enemies, though the wash of the bank some-
times brings destruction upon the entire village.

The chimney swallow, or swift, more correctly
named, is a bird that ought to be familiar to all. It
is almost the single bird family that comes into our
houses to make its home. ‘The chimney is its favor-
ite nesting place, though the old hollow tree, open at
the top, will serve its purpose. Its nest is a rude
structure fastened to the side of the chimney by some
glutinous substance which the bird manufactures for

46 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

the purpose. ‘The architecture of the nest can well
be rude, as it is built where it isseldom seen, though
why it should not be stronger is a problem that my
boyish thought frequently sought to solve. Every
year the nests of the swallows were hung in the
chimney of the old farm house, and almost every year~
some of them would come down with all the precious
freight of young birds nearly grown. The subdued
twitter behind the old kitchen fireboard would be our
first notice of the disaster. Removing the board
would show us the young family winking and blinking
in the soot and ashes, and vainly endeavoring to
clamber up the smooth back of the fireplace. A lit-
tle help from the children would tide over the diffi-
culties of starting, and we would soon have the satis-
faction of seeing them far up the chimney side,
where they would meet the old birds and set up for
the remaining chimney days a rude sort of houseless
housekeeping that finally brought them all to the free,
glad life of the upper air. This bird has no equal in
the realm of flight. For swiftness, grace and beauty
it is all unrivaled. How it can pass and repass, de-
scribe its broad curves, rise far away into the open
blue, or drop and skim along the meadow surface all
day long on its rapid flight, how this can be with that
little body and wings, is to me the profoundest of
mysteries. Without any question his daily flight is

THE SWALLOW. 47

hundreds of miles, and when he takes his last evening
pastime before descending into the old chimney he
seems in freshness ‘to bring back immaculate the
manners ofthe morn.”” Sometime in the last of August
the swallows leave us and betake themselves to the
far away tropics for their winter outing. No doubt
storms and other vicissitudes greatly deplete their
numbers, but each spring enough find their way back
to gladden our summer time with the wondrous

erace and beauty of their marvelous flight.

WOOD NOTES.

Viti,

Our wood birds are now well domiciled in their
northern haunts, (May 28). They evidence excellent
judgment in selecting their summer homes. The hill,
sloping nicely to the east, is their favorite resort. I
have a half notion that they not only like the warmer
eastern exposure, but have some taste in selecting
the broad, open outlook. All along the range of
our “ Paris Berkshire,” where it dips toward the beau-
tiful Sauquoit valley, the wood birds find their ideal
home. The old Butler farm two miles east of Sau-
quoit village, seems to furnish all the conditions of
a bird paradise. Sixty acres and more of the west-
ern portion of the farm were cleared a few years ago.
Part of this tract was allowed to grow up again with
a rich variety of forest trees, and part was gradually
brought into use as a large side hill pasture. The
pasture is dotted here and there with clumps of
young trees reaching back to the wooded tract, the
whole forming a broad surface about equally divided
between the higher shelf or plateau, and the slope
reaching down to the valley below. The view from

ms

WOOD NOTES. 49

any part of this section is extremely fine, embracing
the wide expanse of the Sauquoit valley, from the
gateway near New Hartford, far up to the bend of
the hills, where the creek comes tumbling down from
the Summit Springs. The writer asks his readers to
take a stroll with him through this great park and
note some of its feathered denizens which flash and
love and sing in its truly beautiful bowers. My fa-
vorite approachis along the high ground on the back
part of the old Wicks farm. From thence is a sharp
descent of a hundred feet and more, to the western
gate of the large grove. At my last visit the saluta-
tion at the gate was that gem of bird melody, the
song of the thrush. It came in that peculiar, fasci-
nating trill that once heard is never forgotten, and
as surely can not be described. Init is the heart
of the sylvan aisles, all shaped and toned as one
would wish the wood to sing to him. Again and
again the song was repeated, all of it hushed, how-
ever, as I climbed down from the old fence and
threaded my way slowly among the trees.

What a sly fellow the thrush is! I just caught
sight of this one’s slender form as he rapidly slid
away into the deeper recesses of the wood. A little
later I shall find him with his mate, well set up in
housekeeping, and, of course, not quite so shy.
Here at the edge of the pasture I catch the song of

5

50 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

a bird which savors not a little of the open fields.
The little tree in the open glade is the stage from
which the singer pours forth his rich melody.
Perched on the very top of the tree, he sings away
into the blue air above him as though his very life
depended on the song being done quickly, and well
done too. Itis the little bluefinch or sparrow—
sometimes called the indigo bird. The plumage is
a rich indigo blue throughout, and, like the song,
flashes in the sunlight as though it came out of the
deep blue of the far away sky. ‘The nest, no doubt,
was somewhere near, but I was too busy watching
the many wood dwellers to look it up then’ AsI
came down to the rude fence near the old wood
road, a bird glided by me that I quickly recognized
as the rose-breasted grosbeak. A little rain was
falling, but with some indication of breaking away,
and I knew that the advent of the sun again would
loosen all the birds’ tongues in song. The flash of
the sunlight was the signal, and the song I was wait-
ing for came almost instantly, with a dozen others.

I moved down to the edge of the pasture and
there in the full light of the sun the bird sat, pouring
forth a song that was rich with the witchery of bird
music. On the white breast flashed the spot of crim-
son which gives the bird its name, and it almost
seemed as though its fellows did reverence to the

WOOD NOTES. — aE

singer, both on account of its beauty and its song.
It is only occasionally that I discover this bird, and
the day that reveals him is one marked with red let-
ters inmy calendar. A little farther on down on the
border of the great ravine which seams the pasture
and grove deeply on the northern side, I saw-a bright
flash of red among the great trees that here have not
been cut away. It was that beauty of our forest
glades, the scarlet tannager. Formerly the tannager
was common to all our groves; now I find him but
rarely. I think myself fortunate if I discover a single
specimen during the season. With his wings and
tail of jetty black, and body clothed in the most
brilliant and glowing scarlet, the tannager stands all
unrivaled for beauty of plumage among our many.
birds. He builds a shapely nest, but of such slight
materials that the light may easily be seen through
it. One would hardly imagine the female in her
sober coat of pale green to belong to the same fam-
ily. What she lacks in beauty, however, is made up
in affection for her young. Hardly any other of our
forest birds equal the tannager in care for the nest-
lings. Several of our naturalists speak of this char-
acteristic as remarkable.

While watching the tannager I heard at the edge
of the clearing the pecuhar chirp of a bird that seems
the busy fellow of all the wood songsters. I walked

oe MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

quietly to a point near some low bushes and soon
discovered the object of my search, the little Ameri-
can redstart. Among the large family of wood.
warblers, I should place the redstart first in point of
activity and not excelled in beauty of plumage. I
find them altogether too busy to pay much attention
to me, so in watching them I can often draw so near
as almost to touch them. I discovered this pair had
their nest in a low bushy tree, evidently just the be-
ginning of housekeeping. . The male bird had but
few home duties to look after, so he showed me how
the redstart works and plays. He would push his
way up among the thick branches, searching almost
every twig and leaf for insects, until at some favor-
able opening he would turn a somersault into the
air, which I thought was play, until I heard the little
billsnap and discovered that the side excursion was
a business foray into the midst of a bevy of flies.
The very work of such a birdis done with a zest that
seems to be nothing but play. |

The trophies of the chase in redstart’s realm must
be many hundreds every day. The beauty of this
bird’s markings distinguishes him in the warbler
family—the deep black which is the predominating
color, contrasting finely with the streaks and bands
of orange and vermillion on the sides, wings, and tail.
Going down into the deep ravine I picked my way

.
a

WOOD NOTES. - 53

carefuly along the picturesque bank of a little brook
that tumbies down from the pasture above. Here
was less of bird life, but a Javish profusion of plants
and flowers. I saw signs that the raccoon was at
‘home in this secluded spot, and under the roots of
an upturned tree was the well chosen home of the
red fox. Long ago the fish disappeared from the
brook, and some of the larger trees lie moldering in
the damp, almost sunless, retreats of the steep hill-
side. But someway there was a luxury of enjoy-
ment, Jying on the mossy bank of the murmuring
stream, and looking away through the green leafy
avenues up to the broad ocean of blue that seemed
so far off from the bottom of the ravine. Some chim-
ney swallows and two or three crows passed leisurely
over the roadway of the upper air, but seemed almost
wierd-like in the blue haze of distance. Why not a
little touch of “ Distance lends enchantment to the
view ?”

ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS.

LX

June rst, sittmg on my porch just as the sun was
sinking lowin the western sky, the evening song of a
great variety of birds was borne to my ear. It came from
all sides, and I was curious to know how many species
of the feathered songsters were represented in the
large choir. In the yard near by I readily detected
the following varieties: Robin, bluebird, grackle,
kingbird, large and small flycatcher, wren, yellow
warbler, vireo, small tree sparrow, vesper sparrow,
purple crown sparrow, yellow bird, bobolink, lark,
cuckoo, oriole, chimney and barn swallow, and farther
away, from the swamp side, .came the harsh notes of
the jay and crow—more than twenty varieties in all.
It was just the hour when the farmer, wearied with
the heat and burden of the long day, was taking the
comfort of the easy chair. What music, 1 thought,
is given to rest and cheer inthis concert of the birds.
The ear may not be trained to catch the secret of its
power, and it may be there is no conscious recogni-
tion of the influence, but there it is, filling the evening
quiet with what seems like the soft low notes of the

ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. so

parting day. Every soulis better for the song, and
all nature, animate and inanimate, is enriched by it.
As the song was dying away with the coming of the
darkness, the lawn directly at my doorwas the scene
of one of those bird contests that, I suppose, occur
much oftener than we know.

Just at the cemetery gate, a few hundred yards be-
low the rectory, in a dense evergreen, is the nesting
place of a pair of blackbirds. They set up first as
housekeepers on the rectory lawn, and the very be-
ginning of their enterprise was the signal for war. A
pair of enterprising robins had preémpted a claim in
that spot, and near by, on the church lot, another
family of robins was snugly domiciled, while a little
farther down near the school house, still another pair ~
had theirhome. I think blackbird could have made
fair headway against a single pair of his enemies, but
when they joined forces and brought in the yeoman
of three distinct settlements there was nothing left for
him to do only to abandon his half built house and
take up anew claim. This he did with much pro-
testing, and many a return for a_ short, free, spirited
battle. I noticed in their battles that the forte of
each party was the surprise. Blackbird would steal
quietly along the line of trees at the roadside, and if
he found robin napping, which was rarely the case,
would fly full tilt against him, strike him sharply with

56 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

his long dirk-like bill, then hie away with many a
chuckle. This game was played until robin adopted
the plan of summoning his neighbors with a- few
quick, sharp notes, and the whole trio of families
would cross the border and fairly hunt their enemy
down. Victories among the birds are “on the side
of the heaviest cannon.” I noticed that the feud be-
tween these families grew as the young birds got
large enough to need constant care. Some way,
then, all the “ Old Adam ” in the parent birds waked
up and waxed hot and furious. The blackbird got
his nestlings ready for fght a little sooner than the
robin. Like all young birds just out of the nest, they
went blundering around from place to place until
finally, after an unusually long flight, one of the
young grackle dropped upon my lawn hardly ten feet
from the door. One of the old birds came with it,
and the advent of these two innocent looking bipeds
was the signal for a conflict, or, rather, succession of
conflicts, that lasted until darkness dropped its cur-
tain and shut the eyes of the warriors.

The two robins tenting just at the house corner,
began the fray. They gave their peculiar war cry,
and followed it with front, side, and rear attacks
that were fairly bewildering. It looked like a minia-
ture case of the “ Balaklava cannon,” in the cele-

brated ride of the six hundred. But the strategy of |

——=

_— Pee ES Oe > OEE

P Seauiene
ee

we

ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. aa

Captain Blackbird was without a flaw. He piloted
his little dusky charge across the lawn with- marvel-
ous skill, and before he was aware of it, found him-
selfin the domain of the church robins. Like a
fresh relay, they took the place of the first pair, and
in much the same manner, escorted the intruders to
the door of the school house yard. There the pair
that were “lord of all they surveyed” from the low
cornice of the old school house, came quickly into
the contest. Their drum-beat was like the others,
and the blows they struck much thesame. Steadily,
however, blackbird held on his way, and as the night
fell, came out of the trying ordeal safe and sound,
and I said: ‘Why not this a genuine ‘ Anabasis.’
Xenophon and his ten thousand getting surely on
and out of the enemy’s country.” The next morn-
ing the village school mistress discovered the “ rank
and file” of this masterly retreat snugly ensconced in
the deep grass at the roadside, none the worse, ap-
parently, for the trying experience of the evening
before. In one form or another this battle will be
repeated in birddom all the season through ; and the
observer can not very well avoid propounding the
query: ‘ Whyisthis? Why should these dwellers
in our groves and fields live in a state of war ?”’
Surely there is room and food enough for them all.
There is nothing to be gained by it that I can see,

8 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

only that it puts each bird on the keenest and most
vigorous kind of duty, and the conflicts call into
requisition every faculty of the warriors, and of
course, make the combatants stronger, if not better.
Among our song birds proper I have noticed that
the contest is usually between birds of nearly the
same size. ‘The large and small do not quarrel very
much, except in cases where the birds of prey enter
into the contest. I surmise that the fiercer fights
like this between the blackbird and robin are incited
largely from the fact that one of the parties works
direct injury to the other, either upon the eggs or
the young. I have noticed the blackbird lurking
about robin’s house, and I am pretty sure his errand
boded no good to the nestlings of redbreast’s home.
My neighbor, who is a close observer, avers that he
has seen the marauder sucking and destroying the
eggs. He does not hesitate to speak some sharp
words through his breech loader, all of them in-
tended to make blackbird a better creature, as Sheri-
dan’s Indians were transformed. I find myself,
however, loth to interfere in any of the battles which
the birds set in motion.

My hesitancy is partly due to the fact that 1 know
so little about the cause of the quarrel that it is not
at all easy to tell which party is really entitled to
my assistance, and partly to the other fact that my

ROBINS AND BLACKBIRDS. 59

best offices, when freely proffered, as a rule, only
seem to make matters worse. :

Just as I reached this point, an old army comrade
dropped in to spend the day with me. His home
is snugly tucked away atthe foot ofthe Clayville hills,
-and he knows the birds and loves them. We found
time to talk them over, sitting under the wide
spreading apple tree of the open yard. The battle
of blackbird and robin was the subject, when lo!
the chuckle of the black fellow was just at our side.
A moment later we discovered that his business
was of a very practical character. In the evergreen
near by, the foundation of his house was laid, and I
suppose a few days more will see it completed.
Clearly enough, the story I have been telling will be
repeated ; that is, if robin sets up housekeeping near
by, which he is very likely to do. If in the passage
at arms there should be any new tactics worthy of
record, I will try and save it in some future article of
this chronicle of our feathered friends.

ORIOLES.
X.

Some years a single pair of orioles nest in the
large trees near the rectory. This year three fam-
ies of these birds are housekeeping within a radius
of two or three hundred yards. In the early morn-
ing frequently the citizens of this realm hold a public
meeting in my yard. I have no means of knowing
just how they notify the different members of the .
council, but I have a notion that one or two of Mas-
ter Oriole’s clear notes would reach every member
without much difficulty. At any rate the summons
goes out and the birds hear and heed. It may be
that questions of vast moment in birdland are dis-
cussed at these gatherings. I can not interpret the
speeches word for word, but the spirit of the meeting
speaks for itself. As the members all talk at once
it is evidently a go-as-you-please convention. But,
all levity aside, this morning talk of the orioles is
one of the bright things in the rectory yard and is
well worth a 4 o’clock waking to hear. The oriole
is perhaps the most attractive in appearance of all
our field and orchard birds. His suit of bright yel-

ORIOLES. 61

low, tastefully ornamented with glossy black, be-
comes his slender form well, and the rich notes of his
song, like one of the bird’s names, are golden.

I know of no other bird of his size that excels him
in activity. The large apple tree in my yard is a
favorite hunting ground for oriole. I frequently take
a convenient seat and watch the operation. Per-
haps the morning hunt has the most of the zest of
sport init. The male bird is the sportsman—the
female I have never seen on duty in this way—and
the skill displayed is perfect after its kind. The
twigs and limbs are all traversed and re-traversed. If
a bug or a fly is overlooked it seems purely an acci-
dent. The fly-catchers proper will dart into the air
quite a distance in securing their prey, but oriole
reaches his with but very little use of the wings. The
movement by which he traps the fly seems very sim-
ilar to the plan of the common garden toad. As I
see it, he appears to impale the insect with the sharp
point of the tongue. There is a quick motion of
the head and from the open bill a flash of bright
red, and the game disappears in the blaze as though
consumed on the instant. All my interviewing has
not yet quite determined just how it is done. A
little later in the season, however, I find this bird
busy in a work which has no hidden stroke. When

the tent caterpillar or apple tree worm has folded
6

62 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

himself away in his little cocoon house and doubt-
less feels perfectly safe, oriole improves the op-
portunity to make him useful in a manner not laid
down in the natural experience of caterpillars. I
-have seen the search of the bird go on for hour
after hour all along the fence and underneath the
clapboards of the house and in the old abandoned
nests on the trees, so that each day he must destroy
a great number of the worms. I think from my ob-
servation that this forms the principal food of the
young of the oriole. One other bird—the little tree
sparrow—lI notice, shares in this feast, and the two
together, I judge, are the principal means of keep-
ing in check this pest of the apple tree.

The nest of the oriole is admirably constructed,
especially that of the species known as the Baltimore
oriole. I am told that in the south he hangs it on
the north side of the tree, but in the north it is usu-
ally swung from some pendent limb on thesouth side,
where for a part of the day at least the sun can fill it
with warmth and light. It is woven with rare skill,
allsorts of strings and bits of bark being used in the
construction. I have seen it suspended from the
long swinging branch of the elm or maple, the mother
bird sitting in perfect safety as the wind rocks and
sways her half-aerial cradle. Frequently this bird
will nest close to the house where busy men and

ORIOLES. 63

women go in and out day after day, and neverdream
that tenants at will are snugly fixed at their very doors.
Sitting with a friend at the step of the house door, a
slight sound called my attention to the swing-
ing branch almost brushing the house directly over

my head. A single glance revealed the pouch-like
nest half concealed by a bunch of leaves that in a
heavy wind would almost touch the house. The
young apparently were half grown, and the happy
householders were busy feeding four hungry fledglings
that seemed never to have enough. I have a half
notion that the nest of this bird, swaying in the
slightest breeze, is a sort of preparatory school where-
in the baby orioles are given some lessons in flight
which forwards them wonderfully in that grace of mo-
tion.

The orchard oriole is the single other branch of
this family that favors us with its visits. The name
is derived from the fact that it generally nests in the
apple orchard, and finds most of its food in that pas-
ture. It differs from its Baltimore cousin in wearing
a dress sobered almost to a reddish brown, and in the
construction of its nest. Thenest of this bird hangs
like the vireos, from some convenient fork of the
smaller limbs, and while it is strong and firmly built,
it has but little of the tasty appearance of the other
species. The orioles are not only general favorites

64 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

on account of their brilliant plumage, but widely wel-
comed as singers of no mean order. Oriole’s song,
however, is celebrated rather for the sweetness of the
notes than for any particular prolonged melody, like
the song sparrow or the bobolink. Asit comes tous
first with the apple blossoms, it seems to interpret in
some way the pink and white of these gems of the
orchard. The two or three notes slide into each
other almost imperceptibly as the shades of color
blend on the petals of the flowers, and though re-
peated many times during the day, never tire the
listeners, in fact, are only restful as the senses find
joy over and over in the beauty and fragrance of the
orchard flowers.

A little episode of genuine bird scolding, closely
associated with oriole, has been one of the daily
scenes witnessed in my yard. Alittle fly-catcher had
brought his mate, and together they had put their
cabin in a safe fork of the apple tree, and so far as I
could see, were quite happy in their domestic bliss.
I noticed nothing unusual in the birdlife of the yard
until the advent of the orioles. ‘Themoment they ap-
peared was the signal, not for war, for there was no
fighting—but for an outburst from my family of fly-
catchers of the most vigorous kind of bird scolding:
The noisy jargon was poured out with great vigor,
and as oriole paid no attention to it, I concluded that

ORIOLES. 6.

either he did not understand it, orit being entirely un-
called for on the part of the small neighbor, was best
mended by being unnoticed.

I have never seen the oriole in any way trench-
ing on the rights of his smaller neighbor, yet he
never appears in the rectory yard without fly-catcher
and his wee bit of a wife, filling the air with a storm
of the hottest kind of bird protests. Oriole, as I
have said, pays no attention to it, so I half surmise
that it is a sort of pastime for him, and perhaps fly-
catcher finds some fun in berating his big brother
where there is not the least bit of danger of any sharp
return stroke. Now and then, as in the above, I
find the birds human enough so that I make a note
of it, and wonder whether it is one of the many rifts
in the cloud which, for the time being, hides a fel-
lowship that lies along the wide relation of all life.

THE HUMMING BIRD.
XI.

The largest family among the birds is the one of
the smallest individual members. The humming
bird is so small and of such delicate structure, that
one hardly feels hike classing it among the birds at
all, The flight is almost literally a flash through the
air. How that little body can be propelled at such
marvelous speed is one of the profound problems of
bird motion. The most rapid of our railroad trains
can not equal this little creature as it darts away
through the gardens and fields. The ordinary flight,
I believe, is rated atnearly a hundred miles an hour.
The strokes of the tiny wings defy all following with
the eve, and the humming sound emitted gives the
bird its name. | |

This bird’s method of taking its food sets at defi-
ance all rules of quiet, easy feasting. He takes all
his meals on the wing. Just how he balances him-
self so nicely on those vibrating levers, and touches
the right spot in the flower with his long slender bill,
is a secret that I can not uncover. As I see it,
however, it is done with dispatch and apparent ease.

~

THE HUMMING BIRD, 67

Surely, it is the feast delicate among all the wide
tables spread for our feathered friends. The wonder
is how the little body holds so many sips. Two va-
rieties visit and nest with us, though I think the little
ruby-throat is gradually becoming our single repre-
sentative of this great family. Naturalists tell us
that this order of birds includes over 400 varieties.
They are widely distributed, but essentially deni-
zens of the tropics.

I am told that on some of the mountains in Cen-
tral America, ten or twelve different kinds have
been discovered, all of them nesting there, and mak-
ing that one place their home. It is a curious fact
that of this largest family of birds so few have been
moved by the instinct of migration. Throughout
the entire United States I believe only seven varie-
ties have been found, and these only as summer
visitors, even in the far sunny south.” Belonging, as
this bird does, to the tropics, he puts on the bril-
liant attire that is characteristic of that favored re-
gion. Our own tiny visitor—the ruby-throat—
though one of the least conspicuous of the entire
family, has some touches of brilliant color. He
seems to reflect the brightness of the flowers among
which he passes most of his active life. I have no-
ticed in my garden that ruby-throat comes in almost
entirely by the same door. I hear the whirr of

68 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

wings, and [ know just where to look for the visitor.
His flight is down from the old church, as though
right out of the morning sun just peeping over the
roof. Very likely his nest is in the orchard on the
eastern side of the village, and he sets a good ex-
ample in this first movement of the day churchward.
At any rate that is the way he comes, and the going
is always a flash out over the old schoolhouse away
to the pine grove beyond. Some writers tell.us that
part of the food of the humming bird is the minute
insects that the bird readily sees and secures, though
they are almost too small for the human eye to detect.
I have never been sure, from my observation, that
this is true. I hear the snap of the tiny bill, but that
it means the trapping of the fly.is not so certain.
Sipping the nectar of the flowers, why shouldn't the
happy fellow bring his bill together as the boy
smacks his lips over the sweets that relish with the
keenest delight ? Some way it seems to me more in
keeping with this bird’s size and character, that it
should live on the rich juices of the flowers. A
blossom of the blossoms, part of the “ house beauti-
ful,” so its every word out of the mouth of God, the
very fragrance of life. Ofall this great family it is
written “practically songless.” Occasionally one
hears from them a sound that is the faint imitation
of bird-song, just a thin, prolonged, single note.

«x

THE HUMMING BIRD, < 69
The nest is a gem of bird architecture. I have
seen but one, and that long years ago.

My brother and I, taking the daily frolic in the
orchard on the old farm, came upon the little house,
hardly larger than an acorn cup. It was fastened to
the limb of the tree, and in color was so like the
limb that it was only by accident that we discovered
it. It.was marked by great delicacy of structure, and
held two tiny white eggs not much larger than our
smallest peas. Curiosity satisfied, we left*the pair
to the orchard quiet. A day or two later, however,
some enemy invaded ruby’s home, and we lost our
opportunity fora more extended acquaintance with
this most interesting bird.

The humming bird is a great lover of freedom.
The wild, free life of the fields and gardens is the
home to his perfect liking. Ido not know of a single
instance where he has lived more than a few
weeks in confinement. Occasionally it is well to put
the prison bars about some of our feathered friends.
Interesting facts are uncovered in this way, but at
best it does not give information of the richest char-
acter. The bird in confinement is only the shadow
of a bird. The limitations forced upon him chill his
spirit and cramp all his movements. Under such
conditions he can not be himself, for all is second-
hand. Some way his entire life is ever saying to

70 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

man, ‘“ Hands off if you would know me at my best.”
To me no other kingdom of earth’s many kingdoms
of life offers more of the gladness that is active, un-
trammeled, free; but it must be in and out of its
own. In brief, it must be on the wing—its “to and
fro,” like the wind which bloweth where it listeth. To
know the bird is to know him at home, in the house
not built with hands, and who shall say that the far
off towers thereof are not lifted ‘“eternal.in the
heavens ?” |

THE. OWE.

Per.

Perhaps among all our birds there is none less
known than the owl. Spending his waking time
while almost all othercreatures sleep, he 1s not easily
seen and studied. I fancy most of us think his life
must be shaded even to a deep settled melancholy.
Surely his work, and pastime, too, for that matter, are
all done away from the light of day, but that his deeds
are evil does not by any means follow. He has his
place in the economy of nature, and fills it with the
same fidelity that belongs to his fellows. Formerly,
I think, these birds of the night were much more
plentiful than now. It does not appear that their
food has grown less, but rather that theirhomes have
disappeared. Fifty years ago the great forest trees
were standing, and his owlship had his choice of
homes among many that were ail desirable. Now
the trees are gone, and ‘with them the homes. A
member of the ow! family stands as a connecting link
with the hawk family. It is known as the hawk-owl,
and is found in the northern regions of both con-
tinents. It has the body and general form of the

72 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

hawk, but the radiating feathers around the eyes and
bill, as well as the form of the legs and feet, at once
distinguish it as an owl. It hunts its prey by day,
and is noted for its boldness, sometimes taking the
game from the hunter after it is shot.

While the greater number of the owls proper are
nocturnal in their habits, there are twvo or three kinds
that are active on the wing in broad daylight. Ofthe
smaller varieties of this class the burrowing owl of
the plains is perhaps the best known. ‘They are
found principally in the prairie dog towns of the west.
They nest and breed in some abandoned burrow of
the dogs, and seem to be on good terms with their
neighbors. I have seen them sitting like statues on
the little mound of earth, at the house door. Occa-
sionally a dog would dart at them, sending them
screaming into the air; but in a few moments they
would settle down again to the old musing attitude,
I never saw them searching for food, but conclude
that they found it in the almost innumerable insects
that swarm in those treeless regions. One day owl,
notably conspicuous, is the great white or snowy owl
of the Arctic regions. Its’ nesting place and home,
- largely, is far north in the Hudson Bay country. Its
plumage in the winter is of a beautiful snowy white-
ness, sometimes marked, especially in the summer
season, with spots of brown. Frequently in the

D THE OWL. 73

coldest winter weather these birds will wander down

into the United States, extending their journeys

sometimes as far south as Kentucky. Audubon
gives an account of one which he saw near Louis-
ville, Kentucky, engaged in the rather unusual occu-

F pation of catching fish. It is the only instance with-

in my knowledge of anyone observing the owl thus
occupied, and I find myself wondering whether the
great naturalist was not nodding a little.

Thirty years ago the snowy owl was quite a com-
mon visitor in Central New York. Now it is seldom
seen. In my boyhood days a family, residing on the
hill south of the village, were aroused early on a cold
morning in January, by an unusual noise behind the
board which shut out the great fireplace in the old
kitchen. The chimney flue, cautiously opened, re—
vealed an arctic owl of the largest size. After a
stout battle he was captured and consigned to a
wooden cage. He proved a prize indeed, and
seemed to enjoy confinement so long as his larder
was wellsupplied. After a time, however, he ceased
to be a novelty, and his captor, tiring of his company,
opened the cage door and allowed him to depart
upon his long flight northward. The other owls of
this vicinity are the great-horned, the long-eared,
the short-eared, and the little screech owl. The

latter is the most abundant species, and there is
i

74 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

scarcely any section of the eastern or middle states
where it is not found. Almost all are familiar with
its melancholy notes. Most of our country boys, at
one time or another, have been interviewed by this
diminutive fellow. One half conjectures that a part
of the wierd hooting is bird laughter following the
flight of the thoroughly frightened boy. It does
seem like the uncanny voice of the night, and I
should doubt the saneness of the boy who was not
alarmed by it. It is now many years since I have
seen a specimen of the larger species. The last
time I saw the great horned owl was back in the
forties. My brother and I were dropping the plas-
ter for the corn planting near the old swamp woods,
at the southern gate of the farm All the morning,
from where the hemlocks were thickest, there came
a succession of sounds that told us of some sort of
bird convention. At first it was almost exclusively
the crows that did the talking. Gradually, however,
this changed, and the bluejays took the floor.
While they did not rival the crow in loudness, they
excelled him in the sharp biting stroke. Finally,
after an hour or more of the noise, we climbed over
the old worm fence and worked our way carefully
down to the swamp side. Without disturbing the
disputants, we soon discovered the bone of conten-
tion and also just what the several parties had to

THE OWL. 70

say about it. In the thick part of the old hemlock
sat a great horned owl. Evidently he had been be-
lated about his home getting the evening before, and
some sharp-eyed crow had discovered the poor wan-
derer and called his fellows to add a little more dis-

comfort to his helpless plight. They had their fun,

and then the jays came in for their share. I re-
member it was a most ludicrous scene. On every
side of the owl the jays were perched, and every one.
of the dozen or more was ringing out his sharpest
cry. The object ofall the outcry sat winking and
blinking in the light as though he was utterly bewil-
dered by the babel of sounds. On the part of the
jays the entire scene appeared to be a venture of
pure teasing, though had the owl been a smaller
bird, I doubt not he would have been much more
roughly used, for the jay, as some one has said, is
the “pirate among the birds.”

The food of the owl consists very largely of the
smaller animals, especially of those that are nocturnal
in their habits. Sometimes the larger species visit
farmyards and levy tribute on the plump chickens
that roost in the old apple tree at the house door.
From the fact, however, that the large owls are rarely
found free from the strong odor of the skunk, we
know that this animal forms a large part of their food.
Night for their work, and pastime, with food odorous

76 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

as the above named, makes up a bird life that is al-
most entirely devoid of the glad things usually found
in that kingdom.

-

THE CROW.

XIII.

There is one bird of size, color andemphatic voice
fiat like “the poor,”
Everybody knows the crow, and knows, too, that his

we have with us always.

place is a large one among our feathered friends.
The simple fact that he continues with us is strong
evidence of the “survival of the fittest.” In all the
early history of this section the crow was suffered
simply as anuisance. He had norights that anyone
in any way felt bound in the slightest degree to re-
spect. The fiat went forth from every farmer and
mgnier + ceath to the crow.” It had.the effect to
render this black fellow the brightest, keenest, most
wary of all our birds. Much has been written of his
shrewdness, and more of his watchful skill whereby
he outwits all his enemies, and still I fancy the half
has not yet been told. Inrecent years a change has
come over our rural districts, and our friend of the
somber dress has profited by it. Men, especially
farmers, have slowly learned that the crow is not an
enemy, but a stout and most serviceable friend. He
does some harm in the corn fields, and in other par-

78 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

ticulars is not altogether free from actions that com-
plicate his character among our rural citizens, but on
the other hand, he is of great service to the farmer.
No other bird is so destructive to grubs and different
kinds of the large insect pests as the crow.

Where the grasshoppers assemble he finds his
richest pasture, and there is no limit to his appetite
for snakes, toads and frogs. As by instinct, he dis—
covers the animal that has fallen dead by the way-
side. I have seen the crow almost instantly find its
way to the single dead animal and in a brief space
of time twenty of his fellows would be teasting with
him. I could not discern any particular signal, and
yet I suppose one was given, or the news transmitted
in some other way. Ihave seen the same thing oc-
cur with the turkey buzzards of the Southwest. On
the great open plains the body of a dead animal
could be exposed but a few minutes before the buz-
zards would begin to assemble in large numbers.
Not a bird in sight at flrst, then a single black speck
in the far away blue, and then another, quickly grow-
ing into a long line of great birds all hastening to
the feast. It may be an instinct that guides, or it
may be the sharp sight of a watchful sentinel pen-
etrating far beyond what we know of human vision.
As a scavenger the crow is most useful. He hasa
fondness for the eggs and young of other birds, which

THE CROW. 70

he indulges with the utmost freedom. His size and
strength enable him to attack and rob with impun-
ity, though occasionally he meets with his match.
The kingbird or giant flycatcher, does not hesitate
to oppose him to the face, and is almost sure to dis-
comfit him. I have seen the kingbird pursue the
crow with such vigor as to alight on his back and ap-
parently drive his sharp bill deep into the flesh of the
bold marauder.

Some of the habits of the crow are quite peculiar.
His shyness is proverbial, also his extreme watchful-
ness, but that this solemn fellow is possessed of what |
appears to be a keen sense of humor is not so gen-
erally known. They have, I think, their playgrounds
where they take genuine crow pastime. I have no-
ticed that the broad hillside just west of Cassville on
the old Thomas farm, is one of their favorite resorts.
In the hundreds of times that I have passed there I
do not now recalla single occasion, either in winter
or summer, when a larger or smaller flock of crows
was not present, and almost always engaged in what
looked like play. Of course, they know the best
places for the pastime which suits their facetious
moods, but inasmuch as they make such extensive
use of the hillside, I think we may safely say their
principal recreation is coasting. That certainly is
what it looks like to me. The great black fellows

80 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

will come into sight, lumbering heavily along over
the crest of the hill, but the moment they drop into
the down grade, they glide easily to the hill foot,
where with a broad curve they sweep around by a
gentle ascent to the upland again. They have the
advantage of the boys, for their hill, winter and sum-
mer alike, is always in order, and they seem to have
a little of the sport every day. Some of their pecu-
liarities are seen only where the young are taken
from the nest and thoroughly domesticated. They
are easily tamed and for a time, at least, are inter-
esting pets.

A friend favored us with a fine specimen last sum-
mer which rejoiced in the name of Croker. He
quickly put away all the sly crow nature, and be-
came as contented and familiar as the house cat.
His capacity for mischief seemed almost unlimited.
The old shingles on the barn he pulled out and scat-
tered about the yard. He sampled freely the first
ripe berries and apples. He bored clean holes in the
squashes and pumpkins, and his particular delight
was to appropriate to himself all the brightest blos-
soms of the flower garden. Frequently jn the morn-
ing he would come into the garden where I was at
work, and after standing about for a while, first on
one foot and then on the other, eyeing curiously all
my motions, he would sidle along to some shrub, or

THE CROW. Sr

hill of corn, and after saluting it crow fashion, would
circle about it, dancing and chuckling as I have seen
the Indians do at some of their festivities. He
seemed to enjoy the fun of a surprise. He would
come slyly from a convenient perch and drop upon
the shoulders of a person suddenly, and in proportion
to the alarm his advent occasioned would be his ap-
parent enjoyment of it all. "On Sundays he made
due effort to attend church; in fact, he was so per-
sistent that we were obliged to shut him up securely
until the service was over. He resented these forced
imprisonments, and never failed to express by his
manner what he thought of such tyranny, ashe walked
slowly out of his cell. He seemed quite delighted
when he learned his pranks were not appreciated,
and we soon found that his most assiduous atten-
tions were given where he appeared to know they
were not wanted. He finally distributed his friend-
ship so widely that he became a sort of village nuis-
ance; and we felt obliged to return him to his farm-
home. There he flourished for a time, but eventually
indulged in so much mischief that he was turned over
to the executioner, and so ignominiously ended _ his
career.

As a nest builder the crow is not of highrank. In
some convenient tree he piles together a mass of
sticks, shaped for his purpose. The lining of the

82 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

nest is hardly more than a thin veneering of finer
sticks. The eggs are usually four in number, andthe
growing young are as noisy and hungry a set as can
be found in the whole range of birddom. Formerly
in the fall of the year this bird gathered in flocks of
vast numbers. They scattered during the day time
to feed, returning to the roosting place at night. I
have seen them just before sundown pouring into
the wood on the old Addington farm in a continuous
stream until acres of trees were filled with them.
For an hour or more there was a babel of sound that
filled the entire country side, then with the subdued
chuckle in which the crow indulges, they settled into
a quiet, more or less fitful, until with the first ray of
morning hight they streamed out to the day’s work
and play. Later on the great flocks dissolved into
companies of three or four, which were scattered far
and wide for the somewhat meager feasting of the
long winter. Perhaps the most picturesque appear-
ance the crow makes is when he forms a feature in
the winter landscape. He contrasts well with the
whiteness of the snow, and some way the tones of
his voice are always more or less chilly. If they
smack at’ all. of the poetic it 1s Of ine areme kind,
which has its place and power where the snow and
cold reign supreme.

THE ENGLISH SPARROW.

XIV.

The bird Ishmael. according toa more or less popu-
lar notion, is the English sparrow. Like the colored
brother from Africa, he landed on our shores without
any choice of his own. Once here, however, he
proceeded to multiply in, if not to replenish the
earth. As long as he remained a “hewer of wood
and drawer of water,” he was thought nice, wise and
useful. He fell into line early as a new recruit,
answered readily to roll call, and was regarded as
steadily and surely moving: on to allthe immunities of
American citizenship. But like all the foreigners
who had preceded him, once in possession of his
footing on the new shore, he immediately asserted
his rights and marshalled alihis battalions to defend
incr. He became a true: American.- The spirit of
freedom took possession of him. If any ship sailed
into his port ladened with the “tea of contraband,”
he tumbled it overboard without any particular cere-
mony, and I never heard that he put on another
bird’s warpaint in doing it. If a sister common-
wealth massed its troops, over came sparrow forces

84 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

and drove him out, it was done by hard fighting, and
so far as I have observed, there is enough human
nature in the English sparrow to impel him to battle
his way in again to the full possession of his own, if
the slightest chance occur favorable to his purpose. —
I ke this bird because there is so much real push
in him. Transported to a distant land without his
consent being asked, he doesn't spend a moment’s
time lamenting the matter. He never whines nor
mopes. He asks no favorsof anybody. He takes
matters just as he finds them. He goes to work,
builds his house, marries, sets up housekeeping,
provides for his own, and keeps on, day after day,
enjoying that poor, weak, shaky song of his, just as
rapturously, for anything I can see, as Bobolink, the
Jenny Lind of our meadows, trills his matchless
melody.

How true it is that the core of the song hes a
great deal deeper than the execution which simply
awakens our admiration. The strong, true,right heart
never knows any discord, and I fancy our homely
sparrow must be the possessor of a pretty good heart,
or he never could get on so contentedly for even one
hour with that “breaking forth” of his to which it
hardly seems possible to apply the appellation of
“joyful noise.” The virtue of contentment under
adverse circumstances surely 1s here.

THE ENGLISH SPARROW. 85

Expatriation, voice and raiment never in the
slightest degree artistic, never much more than ‘the
against every man,” but with this a certain kind of
self-assertion that rises often to the dignity of real
courage, and a sort of dogged persistence that,
Grant-like, never knows defeat,—why is not this
sparrow the typical Teuton of the bird races—the
victory-winning fellow because he attends to the win-
ning of the victory, and to that alone? But let us
turn to what the sparrow is in real every day life as
he passes in review under our own observation.
Most of the birds give us a part of their lives
only, but the sparrow the round year, with all
his hopes and fears and loves. ‘The merit of indus-
try is surely his. He is a worker that needeth not
to be ashamed. I have watched a pair at their nest
building when it seemed a task without any release.
No other bird of its size brings together such a quan-
tity of material. He piles it up day after day, and,
seemingly, when the nest is done he goes on piling it
up. Almost any place that is large enough will do
tor sparrows home. He will beara good dealof ad-
versity in the way of opposition to his house building.
I have seen the nest removed when half built several
times, and the bird keep right on rebuilding in the
same place without any appearance of irritation.

Sometimes the only way to stop the work is by clos-
8

86 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

ing up the place altogether. I think them true Ice-
landers in love of home. We have no other pird that
builds to stay like the English sparrow.

I conclude that the rising generation rarely ever
thinks of emigration as a relief to their over-crowded
towns—in fact, they have no over-crowded towns.
There is room and to spare on all their best streets,
and all are best. But industry and love of home shine
brightest where they have the golden setting ‘of high
courage. Our bird, so far as I can learn, like Bis-
marck’s Germans, “fears nothing but God.” I do
not think he is as quarrelsome as some allege. I
have seen several contests that could be truly termed
civil war, but I have never seen very much fighting
between sparrow and our native birds. When he is
ranging a little beyond his own hearthstone most
birds have the ability and the disposition to drive
him back, but I have never known the battle joined
at his own door without sparrow standing strong for
all his rights. I like him because as a true English-
man he stands up for his rights.

In defense of his home he is quite ready to die
long before the enemy reaches the last ditch. That
sucha spirit should at times develop many an Ish.
mael, I am quite prepared to believe, though it has
not been in my way to detect one. There is another
characteristic of this bird which is still a matter of

a

THE ENGLISH SPARROW, 87

dispute. His value as a worker in orchards and

_ gardens is widely. questioned.- I have never seen

him aiding in any manner to enlarge the gardener’s
hope, but in the trees I have noticed him on duty
manytimes. Just what insect he eats I do not know ;
but through my glass I have watched the bird as he
moved along the upper side of a large limb, turning
over the loose pieces of bark and securing either
the insect or its eggs in large numbers. I have never
discovered any harm to plant or shrub or tree
wrought by these little fellows. One other trait of
character not often noted endears this bird to me—
a keen sense of humor.

Au. Great commotion in the tree near my study
window one bright morning attracted my attention.
A dozen sparrows were tumbling about the branches,
shouting and chattering as though absorbed in some
kind of a bird game. Suddenly they gathered in a
little knot in the thickest part of the tree and, peer-
ing in each other’s faces, seemed to say, ‘“ What
mext’ AS though a. signal -had been given, the
bird on the highest twig reached down and, seizing
the one below by the feathers of the head, swung
him from the perch back and forth for nearly a
minute, then dropped him to a long tumble through
the branches as a boy would have bumped his way
along, until, clear of the tree, he caught the air with

88 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

his wings and flew merrily away. All this time the
other birds stood on tiptoe with extended wings,
keeping time apparently to the movement of the
bird suspended in the air. If it were not an in-
stance illustrating sparrow’s love of a practical joke,
then Ido not know where to class it. Finally, this
sparrow is the only one of our smaller village birds
that habitually braves the rigor of our northern win-
ters. He stays right on and for aught I can see, is
the same contented fellow when the mercury is at
zero as on the balmiest summer day. Why has he
not really won his spurs in a most vigorous fashion
here on our western shores? And why can not we,
by a rule that we honor in every other direction, ex-
tend a cordial welcome to the bird that combines so
many good qualities and possesses so little that we
ever think is objectionable in the human brother ?

THE PARTRIDGE.
XV.

In the deeper glades of the old cedar swamp we
find some of the most interesting of our feathered.
friends. Perhaps the shyest of all our birds dwells
here. He belongs to the large grouse family, and
is easily a prince among his fellows. He is com-
monly designated by the name of partridge, which 1s
oft-times somewhat confusing, as the common quail
is also given the same local name. The range of
this bird is of wide extent. He is equally at home
in Southern New York and in the farnorthern region
of the Hudson Bay country. To know him intt-
mately requires no little skill and patience. One
might pass a long lifetime in close proximity to
partridge s home, and see but very little ofhim. The
old farm where I spent all my early years was deeply
fringed on its western border by a dense cedar
swamp. It covered many acres of ground, and was
the favorite resort of all the boys for miles around.
In those leafy isles I first learned of the partridge
and his many interesting habits of life. How he
would flash out of the swamp sometimes, and come

90 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

swiftly to the old farm house, once dashing against
the roof and falling dead at the very dooostep.
Several times we found the bird sitting solemnly in
the old barn, apparently wondering as much as we
how he came there. |
Again and again we tried the experiment of trans-
ferring the eggs to the brooding care of a motherly
hen, and always with the same result of the young
partridges scampering away into the grass the mo-
ment they were hatched. On his native heather,
however, the partridge is a proud and merry citizen.
I have watched him many times, and I know of no
bird that seems to make more of life. I recall a
little group that I came upon in an old lumber road
just at the swamp side. It was early morning
and the birds were evidently out for an hour or two
of merry-making. From the vantage ground of a
thicket of cedar I could see them clearly without
my presence being in the least suspected. They ran
rapidly down the road for a little distance, then with
a brisk flutter of the wings, retraced their steps. Cu-
riously they would peer into the thickets on either
side, and at times almost seem to dance over the
mossy carpet, keeping step together. Suddenly one
of the birds scurried away to a large half buried log,
and I saw for the first, and only time in my life, that
peculiar action knownas the “drumming of the

THE PARTRIDGE. g1

partridge.” Standing high on his feet, the bird
passed rapidly along the log, striking his wings to-
gether in front of the body, giving out a low muffled
sound not unlike distant thunder.

Some one has called it the “song of the part-
ridge.” Evidently it has to do with the merry mak-
ing of the bird, and possibly may be of more serious
significance. As it occurs only in the spring of the
year, I am quite sure there is a nuptial strain in it.
But at this particular time it seemed to be pure fun
making, at least so it appeared to me. At another
time I was sitting quietly among the tamaracks,
watching a pair of hawks at their nest building,
when my attention was attracted by a slight rustle
among the leaves. Glancing in the direction of the
sound, I was-given a fine view of a large partridge
passing quietly on a tour of inspection. He had
discovered me, and evidently was curious to know
what sort of new being had dropped into the old
swamp. Very slowly he passed me in review, de-
scribing nearly an entire circle in the effort; then, ap-
parently quite satisfied, he walked deliberately away
to his family, which I could hear at their morning
Guties*2, little further on among the trees..-1 am
sure that if this shyest of birds was given immunity
from the hunter, he would become much more fa-
miliar, and we should find him a most entertaining

g2 MY BIRD PARTSHIONERS.

‘companion. The nest is usually snugly tucked away
in some half concealed place, though I have discov-
ered it in the open glade where there was little or
no cover. The young birds seem to hatch, as it
were, at the same time, and all leave the nest im-
mediately. The little fellows are wonderfully strong
and active. They grow rapidly and are soon able
to use their wings and fly short distances.

One of the most interesting scenes in swamp life
is a family of these birds busy with the cares and
play of partridge life. If nothing disturbs the house-
keeper during the nesting days the group of children
is a large one, frequently numbering fifteen and even
more. On one of my journeys of swamp inspection
I came upon a large family of these birds, the young
not large enough to fly. Instantly there was a great
commotion. The old birds flew into my face and
about my head, and when the young ones had hidden
nicely the mother bird went fluttering along the
ground in a lame shambling fashion, as though she had
been badly hurt and was hardly able to make her es-
cape. Knowing it to be a ruse, I followed a little
distance, then returned to the place where the young
birds were hidden. ‘The thick carpet of leaves and
moss made an ideal hiding place.

A spot ten feet square held the birds, but I could
not see one of them. I set my dog to the task of

THE PARTRIDGE, 93

finding the little fellows. He quickly located each
one, and I soon had fifteen housed safely in the old
straw hat that served forthe coop admirably. I was
strongly tempted to take them home with me, but the
stirring appeals of the parent birds quickly settled the
case. I turned the hat over, and like a flash the fif-
teen disappeared in the leaves and moss. ‘Ten min-
utes later I saw from a distance the happy reunion of
parents and children, and the trooping away into the
deeper recesses of the swamp.

Partridge has many enemies. ‘The sportsman seeks _
him as the prince of game birds. Skunks and some
of the larger birds find the eggs to their liking, while
the sly fox gathers many a bird into his somewhat
meager larder. Wet, cool weather reduces the num-
ber of the young chicks rapidly, while a winter of
deep snow and severe cold will starve many of the
older birds. At his best, however, the partridge is
essentially the bird of the swamp. His sober mot-
tled attire harmonizes well with the shadowy glades
he makes his home, while the song he beats out with
his wings, muffled and solemn, seems to come from
moss-covered depths that can only find voice in the
deep under-tones of sound. ‘That his flight should

be quite so swift is a little out of keeping with his
place, but it may be a partial compensation for a life
that is passed almost wholly in the shadowy reaches
of the swamp or the denser thickets of the upland.

THE WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW.

VA

One of the merriest dwellers in the rectory yard is
the wren. A pair of them moved in about the middle of
May, and I have noticed that their active life has
been very accurately bounded by their wakeful mo-
ments. Usually. I can discover the nest without much
difficulty, but this year I have not been keen enough
to detect it. I rather enjoy being outwitted by a bird.
There is a spice of comfort in it that does not appear
when one is left a little in the rear by his fellow man.
This pair of wrens have pastured very pleasantly in
my domain, and I have interviewed them almost
every day, but as yet have not crossed the thresh-
hold of the house where they live.

But what matter really? The head of this small
family has sung to me daily. With his busy help-
meet he has taught me many a lesson in the most
cheery kind of work-life, and socially I have no fault
to find with any of the bird’s ways. Among all the
great hosts of my tenants-at-will I rank the wren
very high. What a bright-eyed, active, generous lit-
tle fellow he is! -With the same breath he sings and

WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 95

works and plays. He never seems to be out of
work, and, I am sure, sings right out of the gladness
of his merry little heart. It is quite a problem with
me when I am watching the smaller birds how the
insects manage to continue in existence at all. My
pair of wrens must secure thousands every day, and
a dozen other kinds of birds rival them in their work.
But I have no great concern about the matter.
Mother Nature takes care of her own, and while she
has mouths to feed, she will see toit that ‘“ seed time
and harvest” alternate without any great irregular-
iy it F were to find the- nest Iam pretty sure
there would be no new thing discovered. Outin the
old orchard back of the hotel I fancy the house is
built. Someone of the many crevices in the old trees
holds it securely, and such feasting as goes on there
is only rivaled by some other bird household. A few
days more and the wrens’ housekeeping will be over
for this season. The family will separate, and for ten
months or more will roam wild and free. But when
another spring-time comes, some part of the family
willcome again to the old hearthstone, and so the
simple housekeeping may be repeated, perhaps for
generations.

There are three species of wrens that come to us.
The house-wren that we are all familiar with,
the great Carolina wren that frequents the water

96 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

courses, and the winter wren, which makes its visits
in the winter. I am told that west of the Mississippi
there are several kinds that differ insome particulars
from our eastern species, but wherever they are
there the best of bird domestic life is found. The
song of the wren is easily recognized, and I know of
no other bird that puts more of the home strain into
its melody. I have fancied at times that its cheery
movement was the best expression of the fireside life
that we have among the birds. It is closely akin to
the “cricket on the hearth” music, and finds its way
surely to the heart that is open to the sacred influ-
enceofhome. Another of the dwellers in the rectory
yard is in some respects an ideal bird. He comes
early and sings with a sweetness all his own. This
year I was sitting under the spreading branches of
my one large apple tree, about the middle of May,
when a familiar chirp attracted my attention. Not
ten feet from me, hanging head downward and peer-
ing into my face curiously, was my bird, just arrived
from the sunny skies of the far south. I had no
means of determining whether he belonged to the
family which stopped with me last year. He cer-
tainly appeared perfectly at home, and was dressed
precisely as the man of the house was last season.
Through an opening in the leafy screen above, the
sun flashed down upon him, and when the reflection

EE ee a een

~

WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW, 97

reached me it brought the purple hue that told the
name of the bird, the “purple crowned sparrow.”
Of course I answered his greeting, and assured him
the freedom of the rectory city. With some bipeds
I have now and then had such a burst of confidence
betrayed, but with the birds,never. They know how
to be perfectly at home on my domain, and never
take other liberties than such as I am_ quite
sure. they have a right to take. Even while I gave
the greeting, the wife of my guest came briskly
in, and I was soon on good terms with both the new-
comers. The woman of this household was very
soberly attired, and, I noticed, wore her suit of
brown without any appearance of dissatisfaction.
The birds have among their many gifts some that in-
struct the preacher. ‘They are preachers, and I am
never more at home than when I get the sermon of
their preaching So far as I have discovered, the
sermon sticks to the text, and the text to the ser-
mon. All the sermons of my bird parishioners read
and sound like that of St. Paul, that “women adorn
themselves in modest apparel.” At all events, that
is the instruction of the every day pulpit of life among
this great host, and while the men wear the ‘ out-
ward adorning,” it is their teaching that they walk
among their fellows as though they had it not.
From both parties, however, the one parable after
9

98 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

all, that the gifts are talents to be used rightly, else
no going forward into the fullness of life.

Pardon the digression, kind reader. Purple
crowned and his modest wife knew nothing of it,
and so perhaps will go on, all the better preachers.
They stayed long enough with me, however, to illus-
trate some of the very best of bird activity. ‘They
are workmen in the great vineyard that ‘“ needeth
not to be ashamed.” Occasionally the head'‘of this
‘little household would open some of the simple
strains of his quiet melody, and I fancied that the
apple blossoms had “ ears tohear.” Does the effort
of the singer heighten the color of the raimert he
wears ?

Some way, among the birds the song seems to be
closely allied to the beauty which flashes in the bril-
liant hues of the singers’ attire. The purple crowned
sparrow lifts his head, opens wide his little throat, and
as the notes ripple forth, the neck and back glow in
the changing purple hues as though some _ invisible
Raphael was drawing his most brilliant lines. Now
and then it seemed as though the bird knew that the
song and the beauty were the proclamation from his
housetop, and that it was his right to be it, in the
honest pride of the bird’s heart. But surely he had
too much good bird sense to let any such matter do
him much harm. Almost ever day he tells out the

FS © TE ES RS en, a en, SN tari ha

~

WREN AND PURPLE CROWNED SPARROW. 99

gladness of his heart in song, and when I am listen-
ing, seems a little overconscious of the effort.

The nest was hung in one of the smaller trees of
the old cemetery, a snug little house lined with spar-
row like neatness, and a home of quiet bird life that
I found myself watching with increasing interest until

- the little family moved into the wider house that

scarcely knows the boundary wall. While I write
I notice the tenth nest building by robin hands on
the rectory grounds, double the number IJ have ever

_known in one season before.

THE KILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK AND SNIPE.
Gg

Forty years ago a bird was common in all our
pastures which I scarcely meet at allnow. Its local
name is mirrored in the single note which it utters
rapidly when disturbed. Every school boy knows
the kildeer, and something of its habits. Its haunts
are the swampy ground of the open reaches extend-
ing along the low places of the pastures or meadows.
Some way it seems the most restless of our many
birds. At the least alarm it rushes away into the
upper alr, winging its rapid course with no’ per-
ceptible effort. Where other birds deem a short
flight all sufficient, the kildeer passes high into the
air and hardly pauses until out of sight. Its trim
body seems to balance perfectly on its broad, strong
wings, and I remember, as a boy, I used to enter-
tain the idea that the bird’s incessant cry of kildeer
helped it on its way. In maturer years the notion
grew into almost a certainty, for I never saw the
flight without the stimulus of the cry. I know of no
other small bird whose flight seems so much a mere
gliding through the air. As I see it, there is only at

os

Mal RICR, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. qart

wide intervals any movement of the wings, and then
it appears like a stroke that is hardly needed. If I
should write all my thought, I should say that the
great bird pasture of the air opened its arms to this
bird and bore it onward and upward as a part of its
very self. How this bird ever is satisfied to make
its house on the ground and take up patiently the
housekeeper’s duties, is one of the problems of bird
life. a

But it is not much of a house, so I suppose the
duties are not very exacting. A little depression
somewhere between the tufts of grass is all there is
of the nest. It contains usually four cream white
eggs. The nestlings, like young partridges, run
nimbly into the grass as soon as hatched. Their
raiment is a soft fluffy down and to the eye they ap-
pear at a little distance like a puffball of creamy
hue that has just sprung up out of the earth. The
parent birds are unremitting in their care and in a
short time graduate the little fellows as first-class
navigators of the birds’ ocean home. _ |

Another familiar bird closely allied to the kildeer
is the sand piper, or, as it is sometimes termed, the
tip-up. In early Junethis bird appears, having made
the long journey from its far winter home in the
tropics. Almost every little pond throughout our
entire state is allowed at least one family of these

foe MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

busy fellows, while the streams are peopled at every
turn with some member of the great host. I know
of no other bird that is so nearly an illustration of
‘perpetual motion” as this little sand piper. He
is never still in his wakeful moments. I have watched
him for many minutes at a time and never saw him
for an instant without the little piping note, and with
each emission of sound there came the up and down
movement of the body which gives him his local
name of tip-up. One of my most vivid recollections
of the spring lot on the old farm is closely associated
with piper’s curious ways. His children were the
wonder of our boyhood days. Many a time the
cows came home a little late, and the boy when
questioned of the tardiness, confessed that the lost
time was given to an interview with the little pipers,
which seemed to call to him out of the sweetflag, a
step or two down the sluggish stream from the old
spring pond. The nest, like that of kildeer’s, is built
apparently without trying and is of no use particularly
after the young are hatched. I have a notion that
some of the animals which make their home along
the water courses secure a majority of the water
birds’ young. ‘The activity of the mink places him
first as a thoroughly equipped hunter, and of course
he gets the lion’s share. |
Another bird which frequents the low places of the

Pe

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s

IILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. 103

fields and swamps is the woodcock. It has a high
reputation among sportsmen as a game bird, and
epicures regard its flesh as one of the richest deli-
cacies of the table’ If its quiet be undisturbed it
will pass the day at rest. At the first signal of twt-
light, however, it begins its noctural rambles. Its
foraging is peculiar. I have seen the soft mould
punctured with holes, every inch examined closely
and made to yield its quota to the bird’s support.
With the deepening of the darkness I have often
heard the bird winging his way to the upland, where
he could search the corn fields perhaps all the night
through. ‘The flight is rapid and at times accompan-
ied by a whistling sound which seems to have a lit-
tle touch of song in it.

I have never seen the nest, but from the habits of
the bird I should conclude that in simpiicity it rivaled
those previously noted in this paper. The snipe, as

I know hin, is closely related to the woodcock. He

gives us a little of his time in the spring and autumn,
but finds his nesting place in the far north. The
hunters enjoy his visits and usually manage to levy
large tribute on his more or less crowded ranks.
With the woodcock and the pipers he flies away to
the far south for his winter home. All the birds
named in this paper are practically songless. They
have their sinzle notes varying in length and loud.

104 MY BIRD. PARISHIONERS.

ness, but no consecutive song like the field sparrow
or the bobolink. They are also attired in the sober-
est raiment that the birds wear. There is no per-
ceptible difference in the plumage of the sexes. I
wonder a little why these citizens of the marshes are
denied these cheery things. Some of their fellows,
like the marsh sparrow, sing with rare melody, but I
do not now recall a single species dwelling in the
damp reaches of our fields, that wears in any degree
the raiment of brilliant colors. Two or three reasons
are easily uncovered why this 1s wise. Essentially
these are all birds of the ground. They nest there,
find their food there, and rarely alight anywhere else.
Bright colored plumage would increase largely the
danger from their many enemies, while the attractive
song might be a new peril in the same way. It may
be that in their own vernacular they sing and know
the song. Carlyle says: “The deepest thing in
man is song.” Why not the bird made like that, at
home, to his own ever a song P

But however it may be, touching the singer ana his
song, our birds of the marshes have one accomplish-
ment that puts them quite first among their fellows.
They might well bear all of the deprivation men-
tioned to be the accomplished runners they are.
Over the wet sand, hard and firm, they pass with fly-
ing feet. I have seen the young of both the kildeer

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TPES reg, ve
¥ _ :

x

KILDEER, PIPER, WOODCOCK, SNIPE. 105

(

and the piper dart through the tall grass so quickly

that one could hardly detect more than a little ball

inrapid motion. Frequently the sand bars of our
smaller streams seem to be a sort of bird stadium,

_ and diminutive pipers the runners, the great trees

and smaller shrubs-the audience of solemn mien and
judgment, never warped by the least taint of favor-

itism.

THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO.

XVITI.

One species of our native birds has entirely disap-
peared from New York. In the far west I believe
there are a few left, but in a short time they too, will
yield to the will of the sportsman, and the wild or
passenger pigeon become a thing of the past. The
last that I saw was a small flock in the wilds of Okla-
homa. Fifteen years have passed since then, and I
apprehend the bird is not now found east of the
Rocky Mountains. ‘Theannual flights of these birds
4o years ago were the events of the year. The
spring flight began usually in April, and for a week
or more the great flocks passed in almost unbroken
succession. In the autumn, after the young birds
had attained full size, the second flight of the season
occurred. The autumn flight was almost always the
larger, and continued for a greater length of time.
In 1840 J remeinber the fall movement was unusually
large. At timesthe sun was sensibly darkened by
the immense flocks. It became quite a problem
with the farmers how to protect their wheat fields
from the depredations of the birds. The writer well

a

THE WILD PIGEON AND CUCKOO. ro?
remembers being placed as a mere boy in one part
of the field, while the grain was gathered at another
point, and even then large numbers of the pigeons
would swoop down and appropriate much more than

their share. All the o!d fowling pieces and muskets

in the country were brought into requisition without
sensibly lessening the numbers, while thousands were
netted and killed in other ways. Soon after the first
frosts the birds slowly disappeared, and, curiously
enough, still kept their close fellowship. Some-
where at the west or southwest they established, as
by common consent, their winter home.

Here immense numbers would assemble and spend
the nights, scattering during the day time far and
wide in search of food. I believe one of the last
pigeon roosts of any size was in the southern part of
Indian Territory. Here in the evening the birds
would assemble daily, crowding in on the branches
of the great trees until they broke under the weight
in every direction. The hunters gathered from ali
parts of the country, and the daily slaughter was
many thousands. The wild flesh eating animals
came thronging to the feast, and the wonder was
that a bird remained to tell the tale. A few years,
however, of this wholesale destruction practically ex-
terminated the species.

Their nesting was a counterpart to the roosting.

108 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

A tract of forest trees would be so densely occupied
that every available spot would hold a nest. Fre-
quently the trees would break and fall under the
strain, until when the nesting season was over, acres
of forest would be almost utterly ruined. These
places of assembly were long distances from the feed-
ing grounds of the birds—sometimes a hundred miles
and more. The wild pigeon’s marvelous power of
flight enabled it to range in a single day the territory
of one of our largest states. Hence their gregarious
habits did not in the least interfere with the supply
of food. The nest of the pigeon 1s a rude structure
of sticks and grass that hardly deserves the name of
nest. Usually the young are two in number, and
grow so rapidly that they are soon ready for the life
on the wing. This bird has no song, but utters a
number of low notes, some of which are sounds that
seem to be almost the soft breathing of the great
trees. One can but regret that a birdof so many at-
tractive qualities should entirely disappear from our
midst. JI see no way, however, by which he could
have been preserved.

As the country was settled and improved the wild
pigeon in the very nature of the case would disap-
pear. The compensation largely is in the multiply-
ing of the song birds, and with such an exchange we
may well rest content.

|

s

Tait, WILD! PIGEON AND CUCKOO. 109

Another of our birds which frequently reminds me
of the wild pigeon is the common cuckoo. As he
flies directly from one and alights, the movement is
almost an exact counterpart of that of the pigeon.
We have several varieties of the cuckoo, but the yel-
low-billed species isthe mostcommon. The English
cuckoo has a clouded reputation from the fact that it
deposits its eggs in the nests of other birds, and
leaves to them the task of rearing its young. Our
bird has been charged with the same practice, and
doubtless is not entirely clear of the charge. Ihave
no personal knowledge of any instance of suchimpo-
sition, but several of our naturalists aver that it does
occur.

Early this season the cuckoos appeared in the
rectory yard, and I soon knew, by the daily visits,
that two families were domiciled somewhere near.
Ten days later one pair disappeared, so I knew that
their home was broken up. The other pair contin-
ued, anda little later the low chuckles from beyond
the church told me that the young family was on
the wing. For a few days they interviewed me fre-
quently, then went out into the wider world for the
long vacation. Later in the fall they may look in
upon me for a few days as they pass to their winter
home. ‘The cuckoo comes to us late in the spring,

and usually leaves for the south early in the fall.
IO

TIO MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

Perhaps it is true of him that he comes the latest
and goes the earliest of all our birds. His song, if
such it can be termed, never seems at the best only
on the hottest of the summer days. It 1s essentially
tropical in sound, and seems not only to break out,
but to be broken with heat. Its nest is usually
given a place in some thicket a few feet from
the ground, and the bird’s passage to and fro
through the branches is a cheery lesson in graceful
gliding motion. ‘To some the abrupt notes of the
cuckoo seem sobered with melancholy. To them
his advent is not hailed with delight, and the nest-
ing near the house portends more or less misfortune.

Like some of the other birds, he is credited with
the gift of foresight. His rain song is well known in
all the country side, and I am disposed to think is
regarded with more favor than that of any other bird.
I cannot detect any difference in the notes he utters
just previous to a shower, and the ordinary song in
the clearest day. Very likely all there is of the fore-
sight is the quickening of life in the atmospheric
changes which precede the approaching storm.

I notice the cuckoo is not a favorite with the
other birds. For some reason they seem to cherish
a pronounced antipathy to this sleek summer visitor,
so I infer, without ever having seen the act, that the
cuckoo is guilty of the charge of robbing his fellow

iti:

API 0 a PER

a

tHe WILD): PIGEON AND CUCKOO, jo) gk

pirds’ nests. That he does it with the best in-
tentions I have no doubt, but that would not by any
means save him from the hearty dislike of the ones
thus summarily deprived of their own. His work
among the worms and insects is a redeeming quality
which accords him a worthy place among the farm-
ers’ best friends.

THE FLYCATCHER.

XIX.

I do not now recall a season when the kingbirds, or
giant fiycatchers, have been so plentiful as they are
this year. They have nested in nearly every orchard
and little grove of the parish. The young are now
out of the nest, and I meet them in large numbers
everywhere, in field and at the roadside. Iam quite
sure the kingbird rears his family without much dis-
turbance. I know of no bird that ventures to as-
sault the kingbird’s stronghold, and surely there is
no member of the feathered family that this: little
fellow fears in the least. He stands guard over his
household, and any other bird designedly, or care-
lessly approaching it, is met far out from the thresh-
old with the most vigorous kind of opposition. ' I
think he delights in an opponent of large size. He
seeins to learn very quickly that the smaller and
more active party in the contest has the advantage.
At any rate he moves to the attack on the larger
bird with a certain enthusiasm that does not appear
when the antagonist is of lesser size. So far as I
know, with a single exception, there is no bird of

~

LAE FEL VCATCHER., 113

the air that really battles with any heart against the
kingbird. He is king in his realm. ;

That such a condition should yield many tyrants
is a foregone conclusion. I think I have seen at-
tacks made by this bird that had no basis, only de-
light in the exercise of power. Last week I was
witness to a scene of this character. A little bevy
of crows had dropped down into an old pasture and
were busy feasting upon the swarming grasshoppers,
when a kingbird from a neighboring orchard discov-
ered the happy flock. He sallied out immediately
and apparently without the least provocation, gave
battle single handed, to the entire flock of crows.
At the first note of the enemy’s bugle, the crows, in
their slow, measured way, lumbered off to the neigh-
boring wood. There was not the least sign of any
defense, but the retreat was not rapid enough to
save the black fellows from heavy strokes. With
that peculiarly sharp, ringing note, the kingbird
flashed above the crows and dropping upon them,
gave blow after blow, only desisting when the wood
was reached. The whole scene had its ludicrous
side, and one could hardly yield much sympathy to
the retreating crows, when perhaps a little courage.
on their part would have repelled the diminutive an-
tagonist. He attacks the hawks in the same bold
manner and, I am told, does not hesitate to assault

114 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS,

the eagle if the king of birds encroaches on flycatch-
ers’s domain. Some one has written that the purple
martin, a bird about the kingbird’s size, often gets
the best of him and that the battle is frequently
joined between them and fought so fiercely that it
ends in the death of one of the combatants.

The nest of the bird is snugly made and lined
with no little skill. The number of children varies,
but usually four are hatched and reared. Flies of
all kinds form the principal diet of our bird, but he
is not at all averse to a change in the daily routine.
At times he has a pronounced relish for the honey
bee and frequently needs some sharp lessons to pre-
vent serious loss to the bee keeper. Some kinds of
fruit are also found on his table, but his principal
work is done among the flies, so that he may be al-
ways ranked as one of the farmers’ best friends. The
extent of the country over which he roams is very
large, reaching from Texas to Canada, and, it is
said, as far west as the Rocky Mountains. |

His cousins among our feathered friends are
numerous. The great crested flycatcher, the wood-
pewee, the phcebe bird and the little flycatcher are.
the principal ones. Of these the most familar is the
phoebe bird. Almost every farmhouse has its pair
of phcebes. Its single note, sounding like the word
phoebe, rapidly spoken, gives the bird its local name,

0 EE <_<
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a

THE FT VOATCHER. Las

while its quiet domestic tastes endear it to all lovers
of home. One peculiarity of the phoebe bird 1s that
it returns to the same nesting place year after year.
At the old farm house in the years agone, a nest
was built in the woodshed just over the door, where
the many members of the family passed to and fro
daily. For ten years and more the nest was built
annually, and the young birds reared. Probably
some nestling of this family returned in the later
years, and the habit .was only changed by the re-
moval of the nesting place.

The little flycatcher that appears in our yards and
orchards, has some of the prominent traits of his
kindred. He nests annually near the house, and is
quite satisfied to use for the purpose of house-build-
ing almost any kind of materials. A family of these
birds domiciled in my apple tree, and I never saw a
busier household Flycatching went on daily until
the young birds were hatched, and then it seemed
as though it went on night and day. Sitting in my
study I could hear the snapping of the bills, and I
had my relish for the feast with the birds, for each
fly was freebooter in my vineyard. The wood-pewee
of this family is to me the sad singer of all our birds.
His pensive note is the minor strain of the forest,
and when he is at his summer resort it can be heard
at almost all hours of the day. |

116 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

_ All the members of the flycatching family dress in
the somberest brown, and in general form have
little of the beauty of other birds. Little or no
song is vouchsafed them. Still they have their com-
pensation in certain traits of character that distin-
guish them among their many fellows. With valor
flawless, they illustrate the type of bird character
which provokes to the good work of high courage.
Some one has said that he knows “* that the Bible is
inspired because it inspires him.” I think we all
know that kingbird, and the members of his kind, are
stout-hearted, because they make us stout-hearted
Their song is the music of the valorous deed and
that always is the rich melody of the gods. With
the advancing season I note the changes in the habits
of my large bird parish. To-day, the 6th of August,
the swallows and the bobolinks are gathered in large
flocks, preparatory to theirlony journey to the winter
_playground. Nearly all the birds are now bidding
adieu to the settled home life, and while they drop
some things that have endeared them to us in many
ways, they take up and illustrate some new traits
that impart an added interest to our study. They
are now free lances in the wide realm of birddom,
and with a new gladness tell the story of God's reve-
lations among that legion of creatures, one of which
does not fall to the ground without his knowledge.

MIGRATION AND SONG.
XX:

In our closing article, it remains to gather some
of the straws that seem to have scattered by the way
Quite a number of our birds are yet so much on the
wing that we have only given them very slight notice
in passing. They will keep, however, until we have.
opportunity to serve them on some other occasion.
Bird nature 1s peculiar as well as perfect, after its
kind. It conforms strictly to the old gospel maxim,
“Take no thought for the morrow.” It is with
birds now as ever, no laying by in store, no reaping
and gathering into barns, but the feeding in the
great store-house of nature—the Heavenly Father’s
open hand. Ido not know of one of our native
birds that hoards a store of food. ‘They all feast
and enjoy, and as a rule sit at a well-spread table.
The birds’ means of rapid movement enables him to
levy tribute on a wide extent of country. Most of
them may easily, if they choose to do so, dine in a
different state every day of the year, while several
species may take each meal hundreds of miles apart.
The bird of the widest range is not easily discov-

118 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

ered. Probably some member of the great water-
fowl family stands first in this particular. Many of
them undoubtedly reach the pole in their northern
fight and push far down into the tropics for their
winter outing. Of the smaller birds, the swallow
reaches a wide range. But perhaps it belongs to
the diminutive members of the kingdom to cover
the larger territory. The little humming bird,
1. think; “visits: every. “part: of 7 the Seomgment

where there is the least development of summer life.
The moment blossoms appear anywhere in the frozen
north, this child of the tropics flashes in and is per-
fectly at home. If he so elects, he may take the
“wings of the morning” and remain in the utter-
most parts of the north, at eventide hieing again to
his morning haunts, just simply refreshed in all the
multitude of his labors. For the form material, this
little tellow illustrates almost the practical annihila-
tion of space. In the bird’s feasting, he levies trib-
ute on the food of the world. The sweets of the
flowers, the insects of the air, the innumerable eggs
of the insects, the seeds of all the plants, are ever at
his command. Such a thing as dearth of food is not
a part of the birds usual experience. One of the
marvelous provisions for this great familyis found at
the glacier’s side. The Arctic summer comes in as
it were in a day. The plants spring the flowers

~

MIGRATION AND SONG. 11g

bloom, insect life is abundant. Mosquitoes swarm
everywhere. All the larger animals betake them-
selves to the mountains, but the birds’ paradise is
ready for its glad occupants. Several of our smaller
insect eating birds take possession of this ideal home
immediately. For themselves, and for their young,
food is most abundant, while immunity is secured
from many enemies through the very agency which
supplies the food. One of our most beautiful spar-
rows (the white throated) is found in this happy
company. In another direction, also, this storehouse
of the north ministers to the wants of the feathered
kingdom. The young of the mosquito spend their
first days of life in the water. During the short Arc-
tic summer they literally swarm in the bays and
ponds, even with the water very cold from the fast
melting snow and ice. Millions of fish here find
their food, which in turn furnish food to the innumer-
able water fowl that throng this entire region during
the nesting season. In our own favored state the
place of the birds in the economy of nature is being
slowly recognized. The old notion that some are
helpful and some pernicious is largely a thing of the
past. Now we know that each species has its place,
and plays its own important part in the affairs of time.
Public sentiment has so far crystalized in the right
direction that nearly all our birds are now protected

wae MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

by law, and the time is not far distant when we shall
include the few, so far outlawed. When all are thus
protected and the law generally honored, we shall
know many of our birds better than we now do, and
I am sure the character of a few of the species will
change largely for the better. In our papers we have
written little of the song with which they greet the
opening day. Thecounterpart of the early greeting
comes again in the evening, but not soclearand full as
-in the morning. Fresh from the night’s sleepand rest,
the bird is at his best, and there seems to be at this
houra sort of generous competition which adds great
zest to the occasion. The matins of the birds open
when the first ray of light streaks the eastern sky. I
have a notion that some of the kinds sleep with at
least one eye open. In our latitude the robin is the
pioneer. ‘The waking and the song seem to be one
with him. The first note is a clear ringing cheer to
the morning. It wakes all the sleeping echoes of
the groves and meadows. It is followed quickly by
another note, but ere a half dozen are sounded, the
birds of the district are all awake. Each sings his
own song, and each is at his best. ‘The music flows
from its thousand rills into a wide river of melody.
The discord of the concert is a part we would not
lose. There are no discords in nature. Her songs
may break upon human ears in a medley of sounds

MIGRATION AND SONG. | £2,

that seem at times a mere jangle of chords; but to
him who hears aright there is only the harmony born
of the skies in it all. I have sat with listening ear
waiting for the morning song of the birds. From
the great hill nearly a mile away, I have heard the
faint notes of the hymn as the hill received the first
faint gleams of the coming day. Down the hillside
to the glades of the swamp the song rippled, a thou-
sand voices vieing together, and there the thrushes
and jays, and blackcaps, and warblers joined in the
refrain, until the verge of the marsh would pass iton
up the acclivity to the rectory door, born anew every
step in the sweetness and joy of vesper, lark, and
bobolink. Someway it would seem to linger for a
moment with the one waiting for it, and then flow
away westward, enriched at every turn with new
voices, but ever the same glad hymn of praise.
What else is it so much as the processional which
precedes and heralds the day, its winged choristers
wonderfully suggestive of that other choir which in
its “holy, holy, holy,” ceases not night nor day.
And so it is the morning song of the birds begins,
continues and knows no end. Every moment some-
where it is waning and waxing, too. What we get
in its coming and going, somebody gets somewhere
at each successive moment of time. “Old Eng-
land’s drum beat’’ goes with it, but it is only here

122 MY BIRD PARISHIONERS.

and there on the line of longitude that the reveille of
Britain is sounded. That of the birds outruns the
lines of nations, fills allthe lines and flows round
and round the earth, its one great anthem of cease-
less praise. Ah, I can but write in closing what
visions of the new day are here! What broad

glimpses of the “ city four square,” its streets of gold,

its tearless eyes, its unvexed harmony, its everlast-
ing peace! The winged creatures of God sing and
give praise with the best member they have. To
walk in the midst of it with open heart, is to catch
the spirit that glows in the poet’s words:

‘*’Those ancient teachers never dumb,
In nature’s unhoused Lyceum.”’

inhi

INDEX.

The Coming of the Birds,

The Paris Berkshire,

Swamp Life,

Woodpeckers,

Hawks,

Bobolink,

The Swallow,

Wood Notes,

Robins and Blackbirds,

Orioles,

The Humming Bird,

The Owl,

The Crow,

The English Sar ow.

The Partridge,

The Wren and Purple Gites ise
The Kildeer, Piper, Woodcock and Snipe,
The Wild Pigeon and Cuckoo,

The Flycatcher,

Migration and Song,

100
106
Li?
117

Rr eet Se er ee ew

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

ONAN

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